Sunday, August 30, 2009

Dressed For Supernatural Success or Every Cloud Has Satin Piping!

It seems the only time' I dress up' is for one more court appearance. My only date for often months or years ... at a once upon tumultuous time, was with one more Judge. Wonder what they really wear under those spanking - clean robes? Surely a fleeting glimpse of a smile and a happy heart-on!

Wearing my designer prison striped suit; I am reminded of how I kept my own personal rapist ( - Oct 04 ), whom had previously raped and murdered a 12 year young girl, incarcerated for 30 years. No wonder this model prisoner was on parole ( one year for every one of hers ... ) when he first began stalking me. I have spent more than half of my overly stimulating life, ensuring a very mixed-up male was kept safely, behind bars ... until he died, a mere 6 months past, in that very same, insanely surreal setting. A couple of weeks ago, I actually cried for Robert Hewdlar ( aka Bob Kneiss ) and one torturous mind that became his own private prison. He was forced to live within a tormented hell of his own mis-creating, for most  of his war-torn years. I got off easy!

Liberating oneself should be as simple as donning  our gay, gray and grief-stricken apparel. Not that easy. Stripping down ... buck-naked, to the extreme depth of our despairing soul, is more of what we must do to place ourselves back into our naturally serene state. Alas, again, I am over-dressed for the job a simpleton could fearlessly set forth to successfully do. A wise-man to truly frown upon a woman of such inner means, acting so unkindly unto herself: as to dress in a manner befitting royalty. For it is a peasant, whom in his/her genius, knoweth, that no cloth may replace a heart, utterly torn to shreds or a cup that no longer runneth over. A blind babe and and winged Angel; both privy to precious and pure stirrings of un-wordly beauty, are aware that it is what we don't ever have need to cover ourselves with or unbecomingly become, that makes us healed, happy and whole.

I love to celebrate the sanctity of life, in all it's lusciousness, by saying to whomever need not listen: " Don't I look like a rape victim to you?" Nor would the typical person, really be able to easily tell I had my son taken away a still terrorizing 5 years ago, to be re-united by unconscious courts and many a loveless lawyer, a hair-raising 8 months later. Never need you care to contend with, or count ...  the pimply, white bureacratic asses I kissed. Or, the puss oozing out of pimples, covered up by never lonely lies, a poor make-up job and bad lighting. I am a walking and talking poster girl for fresh and innocent fun. Yet, like a lightening bolt; I can always be trusted to pull out my charm and my 100% silk, pin-striped arm, and dazzle you with my smile and forthrightness. Although articulate and very well-spoken, it is my compassion, forgiveness and sense of divine duty to stand up for justice that make me whom I really and most passionately am.

My life is a poem. I pretty much leave the verses to craft themselves. The weaver of dreams. A lover of life. One blessed child. Sacred spirit to set free. A few of the beauties I admit to so brightly and never lightly be. Ready and perfectly poised, to participate with an innate sense of purpose and healthy self-preservation . I shall resort to shameless time-told tactics to get many a tiresome task accomplished. Relying on inner-stealth to blessedly guide me and my pin- stripes to handsomely hide me ... For only if they see the bright and beaming aura that tirelessly travels wherever I land or happen to be dropped ( like a K-bomb) - then only am I lost!

Love is mine to bestow. No one can ever take away my soaring soul. My heart may someday cease to beat. And, I shall still live forever ... For what I have left upon this shimmering planet is a loving legacy of all that I believe in and am inherently, part thereof. My 'claim to fame' be not of sexy bikini pictures and poster girl postcards (of which I am proud ) from hell's heaven. Ideals. Morals. Ethics. Boundless beauty from within. But my only sin is that I have had so much fun! Out of trash I have created treasure. Out of rags; purposeful pleasure. From rage to sage. One sick and demoralizing saga after another. Chased for an eternity by hyena's that would bite off their own poison tail, if only they were smart enough. Too much genius for mine own good. More goodness than an un-whole load of 'bad men' put together and heaped in an ungodly garbage pile. Piles of dirt to sweetly share ... What do I care? I am the conscious carrier, sender and holder of the almighty and infinite light.

For this reason, above and alone, I shall stay alive for one more Goddess-won fight !!!!

Supernaturally attired and never tired of the Truth, 

Katherine Marion

P. S.

These pretty pictures were captured outside Vancouver courthouse, by an adoring male, a mere 2+ to 3 years ago. After my darling son was delivered home, and the crazy one year contract, fearfully prescribed by MCFD, was finally and legally outlawed. Before my magical Mommy passed away and my shoulder froze for the following 2 years. Now, the ice is rapidly melting ... Who knows, I may even venture forth to find my stripes still stripp'n and tripp'n all over themselves. Especially with a hot pair of hellishly high heels to seemlessly match. Natch!

Monday, August 24, 2009

Golden Is His Hair

My Song To Be Sung

Golden is his hair

Love in my tender name

Flawless skin set so fair

Plaited sun-lit mane

Light be his to bestow

Shining in mine very own

Little may he ever know

The path I have been shown

Boy of mine to adore

Sharing life as no other

Broken shell come to shore

Simply in this life: Mother

Feeling my heart expand

Opening up his bluest eyes

Holding my open hand

Promise of no more lies

Truth coming through me

One fine spring day

Soul kept pure and  free

Accepting gifts as only I may

Honor my duty to care for

See our way clearly 

Today and ever more

To cherish him dearly

Live each moment now

Facing challenges each day

Trust in our own Taoe

Following as  instincts play

 Goddess-sent power

Birthed to be set free

My brightest flower

Lovingly picked  by me

Katherine Marion 

Monday, August 24th, 2009
3:00 a.m.


Please, do follow ... post your positive appreciation and allow me to know how my happy heart touches your own. For all the sleep I lose over self-expression and sharing my feelings, this is the little gift I ask you to bequeath unto me and mine. For we are all one ... Bless you!


Enjoy the quick pics I snapped of US; captured this sumptuous Sunday evening. Kaelin wearing one of his freshly hand-painted designer shirts ( place your orders ... ) and reading his latest bestseller: "Enders Game". Simply the beginning ....


Saturday, August 15, 2009

I Miss My Mom

This early morn, I began to sob. Feeling all the pain of losing the Wonderful woman I loved most in this world. Remembering the real goodness tears can bring forth. Letting go of what I don't often enough allow myself enough time or space to feel. Now, I  am. Otherwise, how can a split wide-open soul, ever hope to happily heal!

A gentle man from Ireland commented on how moved he was when he watched me tending to my Mom. This is what started the long pent up tears ...  A 'complete stranger' viewing the beautiful heart-sent video of my Mommy and I. A moving pictorial of the amazing love shared between two special people. All I wished to do was to fully immortalize a myriad of magical moments that shall forever live on in the hearts of many. I succeeded.

I have met new friends on youtube, thanks to my heart and hand moving in unison, to upload a rare and informative video. Even though my youngest sister sent me hate mail and was banned from youtube, and my other sister's and most of my estranged family continue to condemn me for my supposedly thoughtless actions, I am pleased with myself. I am sharing the truth. This is all that has ever mattered to me.

To touch the heart of one more pure and precious person. Acknowledged by human kindness and validated by a heart that is as light as mine wishes to forever be. These gifts mean the wondrous world to me. For even though I live upon this precious planet, I continue to witness far too many atrocious indignities and have suffered multiple gross misfortune's of other's indecencies. And, yet, I keep on believing!

The only way I am able to keep my darling first love alive is by opening up ...

Thus, I am handing you one more key to your own personal happiness. Enjoy the movie ... 



Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Love Me or Hate Me ... I am Gonna Dance!

About 3 wondrous weeks ago, feeling safe within my sacred sexuality, I allowed a wee house gremlin to video an impromptu dance of the divine Diva that sweetly erupted from my sexy inner self.

The joy of revealing my warm and moist inner core. How can a 49 year young Woman who has been sent to hell ... only to return in better shape than whence she first came, not feel proud to lay luscious claim ....

If anyone knows the story of this bold and brazen body, it must be Me. When I am in sync with my own rhythm, I feel the best I should, could and can. Hearing the music of only mine ... I Am!

Movement allows us nothing to hold onto and nowhere to go, except inside ... where the beauty never lies and every conscious curve speaks the truth. A celebration of one more beautiful being!

I have danced on stage with Chris Issac. Upon the speakers at a New Years yacht concert of Doug and The Slugs. For 2 1/2 panty-free hours, after a Bachelor Of The Year Contest, at the Commodore Ballroom. Speak of freeing oneself ...

Bloodying my knuckles from gripping a metal cage, at an after hours dance party. Getting bounced from Richards for dancing dirty before it was in vogue. Gyrating table-side in Texas. Hired by one more casting director to cast the sexy dye.

It's as if I have been thrown into a corner and condemned. What can I do? Believe I am only imagining the pain? Let go of that precious and pure part of myself that wishes to merely break out, rather than be smothered in unhappy heresay? I'll just keep dancing!!!

"Free Your Mind" is my 13 year old son's favorite song. At the tender age of 6, he would play that magical mantra and simply dance. Now is the only time to do the sensational same. For one and all to truly remain forever sane, we gotta create our own gorgeous game.

Empty. Purge. Lighten. Move beyond. Transform into blessed bliss. Sweat. Burn. Twist. Turn. Your personal freedom you will earn. Brighter be your light. Smaller is your fight. Clean your aura. Cleanse your soul. Dancing makes you wondrously whole!

Gotta go ...

Freeing my Wildest Child Within,



Please enjoy the dance I share. Show me you care by posting your positive commentary.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Out Of Fear And Into Love

Staying up into the not so wee hours, offers multiple benefits only an artist can truly appreciate. I hail from a family of shameless night-owl's whom read, write, and talk themselves into many a bottomless tea-cup. Some of my fondest memories surface from many a chat around my uncle Harvey's or Great Aunt Thelma's overflowing kitchen table. Whereas other's may be glued to a one dimensional T.V. screen or in the hungry arms of another, we were cracking up laughing over the latest fun and fodder. Stirring store - bought  honey and eating too much burnt toast with home-made jam. Ah, joy!

Since those seemingly innocent days of childhood, I discovered the male role model whom my other aunt wisely left, to be a 'lover' of children. Of course, no one wanted to believe me, then... Now everyone knows, since his own son 'did time' for doing dirty things' unto his own. Sadly, it took decades for most of one more dysfunctional family to admit what I nonchalantly spoke of as a young and ever so lightly touched teen. Even my sister C wanted to believe those touches were merely loving strokes and squeezes of familial affection. Oh, the lies most tell themselves. Only to inadvertently hurt the beloved children they were put on this hurting planet to love and protect. 

My Mother was my soul protector, Goddess-sent guide and a real, good o'l fashioned Woman. Unassuming and self - assured. Placed into a far from gentle world, she gifted  me with worthy praise and healthy encouragement.  Allowed my independence, I was allotted space to grow and glow. At the tender age of 13,  I informed my Mom of what my Uncle had recently failed to succeed at ... one late night, left alone with her trusted older brother, in the basement of our house. My beautiful Mommy went directly to the broken circle of dysfunction to share the awful news. She was told she would be sent away, again, if the sordid story went any further. A silent hush order was put into place, and my self-honored Queen was ostracized, condemned, and labelled for speaking the truth to keep her eldest daughter safe.What a lesson!

So I spent most of my adult life rebelling in a myriad of very entertaining and enterprising ways ( ). Expending my phenomenal energy to entertain virtual strangers and keep myself from crying tears too long unshed. Writing poetry and prose to share ( with online fans and foes, alike. Shedding dead layers of fear and despair to fight back with love and laughter and here and there, a tear. Regaining consciousness and re-framing. Letting go of fears and gaining new and deeper insight into the shining jewel I am discovering myself to truly be.

Interesting how life can teach us lessons.  A few years ago, I lost my 8 year old child for 8 months, to a gay foster family. Realizing that I have been the unwilling victim of a lifetime of gross deceit and indecencies, only betters me and mine. Now, I am stronger and more prepared for true inner success. Where many remain lost in a maddening miar of greed and jealousy, I hold onto my sacred sanity and sense of self-preservation. Secure in the abundant knowledge that the embittered are bitter to the crazed end, I touch upon merely the beginning of a new and luscious life. Playing host to my own personal joy and happiness reigns supreme. 

Thus, this is why I choose to openly speak of the taboo. Being held hostage by The Ministry Of Children And Families does not serve me or the sick and ill-informed  society that put this backward government in impure place. People must speak their voices. Volumes have already been written about oppression, suppression, and finally ... depression. We only lose ourselves when we wait for another flounderer to find and feed us lies and diseased dissension. Ultimately we become our own worst deception. Healing does not occur when we hungrily hold onto a hurtful yesterday. Today is our only time to court consciousness and become friends with what we once believed to be disaster. Becoming our own best friend merely means being kind to that blessed inner child who's been reaching out for eon's to be consoled, not compromised. 

I offer you my heart to hold. My hopes are set high and my spirit's even higher .... Hitting my personal jackpot and secure in the innate wisdom that no matter what becomes of me in this wounded world, I have set the record straight by stating my highest intentions and illustrating through bright and vibrant illustration, what it is to feel and be  the love and light we all so want, need, desire and deserve. Leaving myself open for any fantaisical flight of fancy I so choose. This is the  end of terror. Centered, steady and ready for the consciousness-raising community I so crave. These glorious gifts I offer in exchange for glistening waters within which still to swim and mountains yet to carefully climb.




Trust you will enjoy the lovely pic I captured ( ) of my Mom ( after they sent her 'away' ), my baby pic ( my proud Daddy's camera work ), "Kathy"( school photo) at 13, and Kaelin and I - during a government allotted home visit - 3 lonely years ago. See you in the sunset!