Just Because..

Because I can, that’s why.

Click the badge above for my shop “Tors-Ohs!”

In the meantime, it’s a fun collection of original handmade polyester clay/resin pendants of female torsos that I crafted. What fun it’s going to be birthing the rest of the clan throughout the year, hm?

The Most Beautiful Brooklyn Boy ever..

..grew up to write, and co-write, over a thousand songs. If you don’t think the name Doc Pomus rings a bell, before watching the documentary “AKA Doc Pomus”, I can almost guarantee your soul knows of him very well.
Millions of folk, from falling in love to seeking comfort in times of unbearable pain, have hummed, danced to and clung to the words of this eloquent soul.
Crippled with polio the entirety of his adulthood, this miracle of a songwriter has been, and will continue to be, walking right by our side…or blessing  us with the juice to take another step.
A small sampling of the magic from Jerome Solon Felder…AKA “Doc Pomus”.
In closing, a song intensely dear to me “There must be a Better World Somewhere”. May it find the young spirit struggling against the bull shank expectations of this world.
May he find comfort in knowing that he is not alone.

Not a skeleton, but a gift.

I really appreciate ‘mom or dad died and skeletons fell out of the closet’ tales.
“Bridges of Madison County” and ” Wednesday Letters” are examples where hearts were forced to make choices as difficult as they were shocking to be found. Both start off with adult children shocked over the unearthing of secrets while squaring away a dead parents belongings.
Better yet, today, I saw a true life documentary on that subject , not involving secret and lost lovers. Instead, it deals with the more complicated love-between child and parent. A grown child, the director, finds rare opportunity to better understand a remote father after his suicide . If it had not been for the letters/tapes left behind, remote is what the man would have remained , possibly forever.
What made this an extra intrigue was the father’s close relationship with music legend Johnny Cash.
“My Father and the Man in Black”.


Wondering About

Wondering About

It’s probably pretty much the same.
With the me of Then and There
thinking on the me of Now and Here .
Wondering if the pain is a gift from me of Then,
I’m wondering again.
Does savage sadness need enduring for the sake of me for Now?
If so, then how?


Then…😏…a sibling creation-although the subject matters are different. This one (pic) is an incomplete polymer project that ‘popped by’ hours before the poem.

Both creations very welcome company on a sleepless night.😊

Gorgeous Blind Date of an Album

How tall, dark and handsome this album is.

“Moods: You, the Night and the Music”-various artists style.


No kiddies or noise toys. No monotonous thunks  or lame and base innuendo.
Sophisticated jazz. Energetic. Smart. Lots of sly winks. And I mean plenty of sexy smirks teasing you to ease up and do “your thing”.
I could go on forever about this one, but mealtime’s better spent actually tasting the food.
Note: Regarding the song “Bloodstream”. If you have recently broken things off with a romantic partner, go lighten the heck up and then come back to give it a spin. It’s a gorgeous number which deserves you smiling, dancing next to a shaft of sunlight. It would seem a shame to spend it on memories of you both shopping for engagement rings in Sam’s Club. Or fantasies of you rushing back to one another for some slow motion kissing. Yeah..naw, enjoy this one fully.





artwork and poem by Ramsy






David Gahan

Every time I would lift my head, over the years..decades, and see this man perform-it was like hitting the light switch.

From top to bottom, then to now..what a gorgeously brilliant man this one turned out to be. In more ways than one.


Returning Little Girl

When you catch a long passed favorite song playing, it’s  like reuniting with a dear, old friend.
You’re all  smiles and admiration over how it hasn’t changed one bit. Memories flood back, strung between first and last notes, of who you once were. Just as you remember each lyric and quarter beat, a song remembers each of your fears and wishes from the  time you first met.
Here’s one of my old friends-weary after traveling from the eight track player in my father’s car , umpty years ago, to here.. with you.

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