Thursday, December 18, 2008


I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn’t show.
I’m so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you’ll do – that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I’m afraid I might lose you.

I’d like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you’ll be patient and close your eyes,
I’ll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.

Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love Me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case somebody doesn’t understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.

-Written by Anonymous

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

This I believe..

by Robert A. Heinlein

Robert A. Heinlein wrote this item in 1952. His wife, Virginia Heinlein, chose to read it when she accepted NASA's Distinguished Public Service Medal on October 6, 1988, on the Grand Master's behalf (it was a posthumous award).

Mrs. Heinlein received a standing ovation.

"I am not going to talk about religious beliefs but about matters so obvious that it has gone out of style to mention them. I believe in my neighbors. I know their faults, and I know that their virtues far outweigh their faults. "Take Father Michael down our road a piece. I'm not of his creed, but I know that goodness and charity and lovingkindness shine in his daily actions. I believe in Father Mike. If I'm in trouble, I'll go to him."

"My next-door neighbor is a veterinary doctor. Doc will get out of bed after a hard day to help a stray cat. No fee--no prospect of a fee--I believe in Doc.

"I believe in my townspeople. You can know on any door in our town saying, 'I'm hungry,' and you will be fed. Our town is no exception. I've found the same ready charity everywhere. But for the one who says, 'To heck with you - I got mine,' there are a hundred, a thousand who will say, "Sure, pal, sit down."

"I know that despite all warnings against hitchhikers I can step up to the highway, thumb for a ride and in a few minutes a car or a truck will stop and someone will say, 'Climb in Mac - how far you going?'

"I believe in my fellow citizens. Our headlines are splashed with crime yet for every criminal there are 10,000 honest, decent, kindly men. If it were not so, no child would live to grow up. Business could not go on from day to day. Decency is not news. It is buried in the obituaries, but is a force stronger than crime. I believe in the patient gallentry of nurses and the tedious sacrifices of teachers. I believe in the unseen and unending fight against desperate odds that goes on quietly in almost every home in the land.

"I believe in the honest craft of workmen. Take a look around you. There never were enough bosses to check up on all that work. From Independence Hall to the Grand Coulee Dam, these things were built level and square by craftsmen who were honest in their bones.

"I believe that almost all politicians are honest. . .there are hundreds of politicians, low paid or not paid at all, doing their level best without thanks or glory to make our system work. If this were not true we would never have gotten past the 13 colonies.

"I believe in Rodger Young. You and I are free today because of endless unnamed heroes from Valley Forge to the Yalu River. I believe in -- I am proud to belong to -- the United States. Despite shortcomings from lynchings to bad faith in high places, our nation has had the most decent and kindly internal practices and foreign policies to be found anywhere in history.

"And finally, I believe in my whole race. Yellow, white, black, red, brown. In the honesty, courage, intelligence, durability, and goodness of the overwhelming majority of my brothers and sisters everywhere on this planet. I am proud to be a human being. I believe that we have come this far by the skin of our teeth. That we always make it just by the skin of our teeth, but that we will always make it. Survive. Endure. I believe that this hairless embryo with the aching, oversize brain case and the opposable thumb, this animal barely up from the apes will endure. Will endure longer than his home planet -- will spread out to the stars and beyond, carrying with him his honesty and his insatiable curiosity, his unlimited courage and his noble essential decency.

"This I believe with all my heart."

Friday, October 17, 2008

To my friend Reby..

You're always gorgeous. Except when you're beautiful. Because then you're lovely. But sometimes you're just ravishing. Though, on occasion, you're breathtaking.

But yeah, usually you just make my heart skip a beat and my breath pause.. because you're just that wonderful.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Just let go..

why can't I
please help me
I need to
show me how to
give me strength to
teach me when to
hold me when I
be patient until I
I think I'm ready to

just let go

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Nude Rant.. to a person

I'm sure the Egyptians in 1385 BC also had issues with teen pregnancy. Nefertiti and her young pharaoh considered nudism a MUST for spiritual and physical advancement. Oh wait, THEY MARRIED AS EARLY TEENS, and had thriving children. As did MOST of Egypt's hierarchy. But teens obviously have no ability to do things like raise children or govern nations and kingdoms.

Greeks .. Kings, nobles, and notables of ALL types had themselves sculpted nude. These sculptures continued through several cultures, and were considered offerings to the gods and very magical. Greek clothing was MADE to be removed at the drop on a pin, literally. To dance, work, worship, etc.. garments were simply dropped and put aside. Both male and female athletes, students, artists, priests, etc. actively worked and thrived and lived in the nude.

Nude work was considered the highest form of art through the Renaissance, with the nude male body predominantly displayed, but closely followed by the female form. It was prevalent in both religious and non-religious iconography and art.

Decades ago, respectable magazines could openly exhibit naked native peoples which were not considered sexually stimulating. Today many movies, bowing to censorship, will happily exhibit a naked overweight or unattractive person, because this is considered funny or not stimulating. The intent of such biases demean the value of the human form and reveal an element of hypocrisy.

Nude photography has dated as far back as the early 1800s, and serves a variety of purposes, from medical and motion study to art to fully sexual imagery.

If you chose to not work in the ancient and highly practiced nude aspects of society, more power to you, but don't dismiss something as crass and trashy simple because you don't understand, respect, appreciate, or enjoy it.

I was born into this world with a naked mind, a naked heart, a naked soul, and a naked body. I have lived and worn and removed and donned the garments of many changes, occupations, lifestyles, experiences, hopes, dreams, loves, desires, pains, sufferings, and heartaches. I will continue to do so with all of my being, and enjoy and live for every moment of it. Continue your life in the shroud of hypocrisy and cynicism, insecure in your self, constantly burdened by the worries of how much of yourself you are exposing to the world, buried under the fear that the skin of your soul will shine grotesquely through the sheer garment of self-delusion you wear.

I was born into this world with a naked mind, a naked heart, a naked soul, and a naked body. I can only live my life the best I can, and pray I leave it the same way, ready and bare for whatever follows in the life after this.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

I ...

I am a soldier's daughter

I believe in fairytales

I bleed, I cry, I laugh, I smile

I dance barefoot in the rain

I hide inside my storybooks

I live my life in dreams

I am muse, art, artist

I am forever and will

be me

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Devil's Chant

A drum beats an unknown tune;
starlight dances across the moon.
A witch cackles, a banshee screams;
living nightmares, dying dreams.

Spiders crawl across the floor;
demons scratch upon the door.
Blood flows from the walls;
nightmares walk down the halls.

Evil whispers in your ear;
devils prey upon your fear.
Silver blade glides against your skin;
it's time to let the nightmares in.

Darkness drips into your soul;
fires will consume you whole.
Embrace the anger, do not fight;
join the nightmares, stalk the night.

Everything is just a lie;
the only escape is to die.
But if you do, you join the fright;
come with me, surrender the night.

Deny your fate, surrender your life;
hang from the rope, slice with the knife.
Watch the blood drip from your vein;
join with me, embrace the pain.

Natalie Gibson (c) 2003

Wasted Angel

I see in my mind, standing before me,
the figure of a beautiful women,
tall like an angel with wings spread
to shelter me beneath.
A blanket of lost love and forgotten hope
slowly drowning out the pain
as she whispers to me,
soft nothings to fall upon deaf ears.
Is this where it gets better,
where life turns around for my dying soul?
Her whispered promises open a broken heart,
new bright pain to an old wound.
I'm not ready for her whispered consolations,
for the lies of new love yet to be found.
Her defensive wings begin to smother,
warm embraces grow bitter and cold.
Stone seeps its way throughout my veins,
frost glistens on the boundaries of my iris.
She fades..
Her unheeded embrace pushed aside,
a brief existence which merits naught,
another wasted angel for my shattered heart.

Natalie Gibson © May 25, 2005

Monday, May 12, 2008

Don't Break the Ice

Don't break it. Leave it be.
Leave me frozen, leave me cold.

Don't let it crack, don't let it creak.
Tread lightly, for that is me you step upon, walk upon, skate upon
with blades of steel so you might glide by untouched.

Let me freeze, my blood is cold.

Let me go.

Friday, May 2, 2008

See my scars

See my scars?
They're there, I swear.
Criss-crossing my body, over arms, under thighs
lacing like spiderwebs over my hands
layer upon layer over my cheeks and eyes
small ones, fine ones
longer, thicker
caressing my stomach, my hips
gentle kisses and harsh screams
small tears, angry voices
some broken hearts and a few lost hopes
small hurts carefully plotted and planned
one here, two there, maybe one more next to these
hurt me, hate me, leave your mark
I'll carry your scar upon my heart
she hurt you, let me take the pain
he hit you, I'll make it go away
lost friends, lost homes, lost lost lost lost lost
it hurts to see sometimes
to look in a mirror and see these scars
twisted flesh, burnt and burning
ripped skin, careful cuts
marred surface, rippled with pain
everywhere, face, neck, shoulders, back
over my ribs, down my arms
so many scars, too many scars
can you see them? how can you not?
I see them. every day I see them.
They're there, I swear.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

I'm done..

I'm tired. I'm broke. I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm excited. I'm lonely. I'm happy. I'm confused.

To him:
I realize that I SUCK at dealing with people. I don't bite my tongue when I should, I don't lie when I'm supposed to, and I have this nasty habit of getting pissed off at people who promise me things and then don't follow through. I'm not a master of subtlety. We discussed it. We figured shit out. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.

To You:
If I'm behaving in a way you don't like, you have to TELL ME, or I don't know I'm not doing something right. I have this incredibly irritating ability to completely misread any signals that I may possibly be perceiving. You act like you like me, then tell me to wait, then tell me you don't. Cool. I can deal with it. I'm a big girl. I've moved on.

To one of you:
I saw the shots, I know I did a fucking AMAZING job, but for some reason I'm still waiting on photos you've been promising me for months. You shot her less then a month ago, but she's obviously much higher on your list of priorities.

To another of you:
I love you. I really do. You're awesome and amazing and everything I can only hope to do what you do. You're infinitely better at talking to people then I can ever hope to be. You're a wonderful person, and I'll always adore you. I know I'm a headache to talk to. Thank you for putting up with me.

To someone else:
I adore working with you. You get all my weird ideas, my kooky thoughts, and my half-baked plans. Thank you for being a friend and an amazing photographer. You make long trips worth the drive. I hope we never run out of things to create.

To another person:
I'm sorry. Apparently I fucked up and I wasn't aware of it til recently. I tried to talk to you about it, but I got shrugged off. But I am sorry. I don't want to lose a friend.. please forgive me. I suck, I'm an oblivious person, and I had no idea I was bothering you. I'm sorry.

To someone I haven't met yet:
You're sexy. You make me laugh. I smile when I think about you, and I can't wait to hang out with you. You're smart and funny, and you get me. Please be real.

To someone(s) I'm going to meet:
I can't wait.

I suck. I'm stupid. I am sorry to people I've upset. I'm happy for people I've cheered up. I love all of you, even if I'm not good at showing it.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Love, Anna

Dear Engel,

Please wear your thigh high boots and smoke a cigarette with me. I will wear my thigh high boots and give you all the Djarum Blacks you want.


Dear Anna,

I would love to knock boots with you in a hazy cloud of smoke on a bed in Nashville, or possibly Atlanta. Then you can pull off my boots and nibble my feet.

Dear Engel,

Will you wear red lipstick and let me back comb your hair?
Also, how do you feel about the Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees?


Dear Anna,

You may paint my lips and comb my hair. I shall have my toenails painted in bright metallic colors while I play with your foot as someone else removes your boots. I love all those musics, and we can play those and watch Spanish horror films.

Dear Engel,

Just one foot? sad
In that case, I'm requiring chocolate.


Dear Anna,

I can only nibble one foot if the other is being slowly unfolded from it's thigh high encasement. I shall use profuse amounts of chocolate, and shall tenderly consume every drop while listening to the soundtracks from Italian spaghetti westerns.

Dear Engel,

C'est vrai...but I'm glad there's still chocolate! While you're licking all the chocolate from between my toes and off the balls of my feet, make sure you're holding your own toes steady; they're exceptionally long and delicate, which is perfect for a cigarette holder.


Dear Anna,

I will be sure to hold said cigarette very steady with my long graceful toes while caressing your heels with my tongue, and after all the chocolate and smoking is finished, we can fall asleep entwined with each other's feet with the original Dracula movie playing softly. We can lie there dreaming about mohawked and mullet hawked men. I love you, and goodnight my dearest.

Dear Engel,

You do know how to push my buttons. I'll leave Louder Than Bombs on repeat all night.



Tuesday, March 25, 2008


faces marching past me
long lines, walking faster
blurred eyes and silent lips
lifetimes of people
friends, non-friends, strangers
all trapped in my memory
a steel trap rusted closed
i remember you, i swear i do
i don't forget
every hello, every goodbye
certain smiles, sometimes tears
a laugh, smell
sighs, moans, soft hums
raincloud eyes, warm earth iris
soft lips and strong backs
a sound, a breathe
i do remember you
so many faces to remember
but each is not forgotten
names lost, hearts broken
faces that never leave
foot print on a paper
printed in my mind
forget me not
remember you always


Monday, March 24, 2008



standing here...just standing...
always been here, always waiting
silence screaming at me..
patience... always utter patience...
"i'll call", "we'll hang out soon", ...
patience tearing me apart
tears falling... you're crying softly...
dont cry.. please.. i'm here
i'm here.. just look at me...
hate me.. love me...
do anything.. just please..
look at me...
anger... you scream..
frustration.. helpless desperation..
tell me.. i'll listen..
you're lost.. wandering in the dark...
open your eyes, my hand is here..
take it... it's here...
always here.. always waiting..
utter patience breaking my heart
your tears.. your loneliness..
not alone... never alone..
just look at me.. i'm here..
always here..

Natalie Gibson (c) August 11, 2005

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


"We do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." -G.B. Shaw-

For the sake of everything in this world.. play.

It's fun, I promise
You'll love it

Peek-a-boo with the baby ahead of you in line
Silly Faces with the kid in the car you're driving past
Tic-Tac-Toe on a window in a diner
Even if you're eating alone

Smile for once when you're having a crappy day
Turn around and ask a stranger how they're doing and try actually listening to the answer
By some flowers at the grocery store and pass them out to random people
Offer hugs to anyone you don't know on the street

Easier said then done, right?
Try it
It only hurts a little
It won't hurt for long

Laugh at the bad jokes
Smile at the grumpy strangers
Wave at random kids
Hug the grungy old guy on the corner

Pull the quarter out of the bottom of your pocket and buy a gumball
Leave a funny note for your waitress
Tell a couple how lovely their baby is
Even if it looks like a wrinkled prune

Life sucks. We all know this. Shit happens. No getting around it.
You can bitch, moan, groan, whine, complain, argue, fight, frustrate, annoy
Still gonna suck.
So when it's sucking.. pop in a lollipop and keep on.

Playing isn't just for kids. Grownups just don't remember how to do it.

Watch old cartoons. Sing the stupid theme songs that you never really forgot.

It's okay.






Sunday, February 24, 2008

Who cares ...

*from a friend*

Who cares if a soldier dies...

Take a man and put him alone,
Put him twelve thousand miles from home.
Empty his heart of all but blood,
Make him live in sand, in mud.
This is the life I have to live,
This the soul to God I give.
You have your parties and drink your beer,
While young men are dying over here.
Plant your signs on the White House lawn;
"Lets get out of Iraq".
Use your signs and have your fun,
Then refuse to use a gun.
There's nothing else for you to do,
Then I'm supposed to die for you?
There is one thing that you should know;
And that's where I think you should go!
I'm already here and it's too late.
I've traded all my love for all this hate.
I'll hate you till the day I die.
You made me hear my buddy cry.
I saw his leg and his blood shed,
Then I heard them say, "This one's dead".
It was a large price for him to pay,
To let you live another day.
He had the guts to fight and die,
To keep the freedom you live by.
By his dying, your life he buys,
But who cares if a Soldier dies!

Saturday, February 23, 2008


-something I found online-

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year-old again.

I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.

I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple, when all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes; but that didn't bother you because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair; that everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.

I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want to live simple again.

I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, kind words, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So, here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements.

I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause. . .

"Tag! You're it."

Tuesday, January 29, 2008


I've always been told I'm a bit odd, a little not right. I don't mind, I know I am. There has been much in my life that most would find strange. I've been places, seen things, and spoken to people around the world. One of those places changed my world, my life. I stood on the edge of a mountain and ran into one of life's magical moments, one of those once-in-a-lifetime memories that completely redefine who you are.

It was that moment just before dawn, when everything is silent, and you can still see the stars in the light of the sun. I must have been sitting there for only a few moments, but, oh, how slowly they passed by. I stood and stepped forward, and faced the greatest choice of my life. Should I...? Could I...? I inched forward slowly, until the very tips of my boots were on the edge. A few pebbles were pushed off the cliff, bouncing gaily to the rocks below. As my eyes followed the joyful little dance, my mind and heart raced. Could I...? Yes. But... Now. I took one last deep breath and raised my head to say farewell to the stars ... but there were no stars. As I had brought myself slowly to the edge, dawn had come. When my eyes reached the horizon, the dawn slowly bloomed in all her glory. The sky was painted in colors yet unknown, in swirls and splashes of beauty. I could see the mountains stretch before me endlessly, kissed at the edges by the sparking waves of the sea. Not now... No, not now. Not ever. I was filled with awe and found myself moving back, back from the edge, back to the world.

As I sat upon that mountain top, I found myself. This mountain, in all its unblemished innocence, had made me realize who I was, and where I belonged. I don't know if that mountain has changed much, though I doubt it. One day I will return to that mountain. See, I will say, I made it. I suspect in my own way, that mountain knew more then I did. I have never come closer to the edge then I was that one morning, when the world was so utterly still.

Even now, I visit that mountain everyday in my heart. I tell it my joys, my sorrows, my achievements, and my failures. And it listens. It may sound foolish to some, but others, they understand. That place, that mountain, gave em the world when all I sought was solitude. That mountain gave me the dawn, when I sought the night. But it's just a mountian, just a pile of rocks. No, not just a mountain, that mountain; I believe, I know, that mountain is not just a mountain. How? I just do. That mountain saved my life. I showed me the hope that is born in the dawn. It showed me that hope, though it may fade or die, can be reborn. It never truly dies, for while there is life, there is hope. So yes, maybe I am a little strange, a little off kilter. But hey, life spoke, and I listened.

it said, and LIVE.

To whom it may concern..

"From the cowardice that shrinks from new truth; from the laziness that is content with half-truths; from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth – oh God of Truth deliver us!"—Unknown

"When a well-packaged web of lies has been sold gradually to the masses over generations, the truth will seem utterly preposterous and its speaker a raving lunatic."-- Dresden James

City Memories

Sometimes I look towards the sky,
forgetting that it is blocked by towers of steel and glass.
I step out onto a vast plain of concrete,
imagining a field snow and ice.
I still yearn for the trees and streams of my childhood.
I dream of snow-filled winter nights,
of family gathered around a piano,
singing of times long lost.
But instead I am given slush-covered streets;
screeching tires and harsh angry voices filling the air.
I dream of blazing fires in the fireplace and cold stars above.
But all I have are trashcan embers and smog-filled air.
The sky above is gray with forgetfullness,
instead of the blue of laughter and memory.
But I said goodbye to that child's life for this wonderful city.