Cold Pricklies and Warm Fuzzies

When I was a kid, I had this book about a kingdom

that was infected by “cold pricklies”

and saved by “warm fuzzies.”

I learned about how we can feel

and how others can catch it.

I loved that book, but my mother turned it against me.

You’re being a cold prickly, she’d say,

whenever I was in a bad mood.

I’d swallow the ice cubes whole and wait for them to melt

I knew deep down I was a warm fuzzy

there was lots of heat to melt whatever cold prickly

I’d been feeling

Always a way to melt away the infections

Always a way to get burned too

See I have a problem with self control

when the rage pony in my heart rears righteously

And friendship may be magic but anger is isolation

no matter how loud they hear you roar.

Especially then.

Unless it’s funny, cuz if you’re loud

plus you’re funny,

you’re practically a comic

and comics are strong;

They have observations

not feelings

Poets are soft, like melting ice cream

cold, but smooth,

not warm… but sweet

and falling for the sun

So, let’s try to talk this over

Let’s pour some coffee into it

Let’s eat a cookie

Let’s hug it out

A Winter Rose

A Winter Rose

…walking in Vancouver Rain.


Un-silencing the survivors.


It takes more than you bargained for
to find the right moment to ask.
It takes a lot of courage to win.
It takes a lot of faith to keep moving.

To find the right moment to ask,
when everything seems an illusion;
It takes a lot of faith to keep moving.
It takes a brave woman to believe.

When everything seems an illusion—
That the heart muscle knows how to lift.
It takes a brave woman to believe
that my feet know how to float.

If the heart muscle knows how to lift,
then his eyes are not lost in his questions.
If my feet know how to float,
will we walk the bent path to the sea?

It takes the strength of his kindness.
We need a lot of courage to win.
It needs the gentleness of my hands.
It takes more than we bargained for.

 © Sonya Littlejohn, 2012

The Big Distraction (aka. Stephen Harper)

Big Business is making sure that 100% of the assets filter directly to them, while everyone one else dies a slow death. Then the world becomes a plastic playground for them to frolic in until they run out of oxygen. Simple. No need to second guess or make complex. If you want to see something different, get to work in your communities, fighting apathy and ignorance and working together to make changes instead of waiting for all the people who DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL (eg. politicians, military and corporations) to do it for you.


Plant a garden in your backyard so you can feed yourself (and, at least in America, alter the laws that have said it is illegal for you to do so, via revolution, petition, what-have-you.)


Find out how and why Monsanto has destroyed small farming across Canada and the USA, and why you can’t get a really tasty strawberry grown locally.


Learn why Stephen Harper thinks Kyoto Accord is a waste of time or why he doesn’t care to learn the difference between India and North America, or why he voted that clean drinking water is not a universal human right.


Wake up to how he has brainwashed so many Canadians into believing that he is helping our national security and prosperity by building up and modernizing our military and our prisons, rather than our schools and our hospitals and family businesses.


Learn why people think Osama Bin Laden’s death is such a monumental achievement and how it really will not make a difference at all.


Love people, despite their apparent flaws…you are not perfect either.  Neither am I.






Most importantly, CARE about something non-monetary.


Look out for those in your community in whatever way you can.


People have little faith in each other because we all see one another looking out for self and not for anyone else and it divides, and creates a perfect landscape for the bulldozer types to plough through and destroy us.


With that in mind…Enjoy:

© Sonya Littlejohn, May, 2011

On “Knowing”

We go in with a knowing…

Faith that telling our barest bones

can lead to a structure

that will keep us safe, warm and loved.

Letting us be understood,.

Not even knowing about innerstanding…

Letting us become worthy shelter

for worthwhile love.

We quiet the fear of offering our hand.

The factors are counted:

  1. Before you, I was another person.  I am afraid to tell you that story, even though who I am now could not have existed without who I was, and you tell me you can love me; that you want my love.  I believe in you.
  2. My experience can bend yours over backwards, and yours can twist mine into something I never saw in it before.  We can learn from each other, if we accept one another.  I am willing.
  3. There are some things I have done that I wish I could have shared with you, but that opportunity has passed.  I grieve that, selfishly, because I want this to be new, though we both know there is nothing new under the sun.  We both know that we are just a logical conclusion, either a beginning or an ending or both, depending on what you believe about the cycles of time and their relevance.  To me, this is the first time I have ever known you, though I have met your spirit many times before. This is the golden moment of amazing grace, for now I see you clearly.

We reveal our weaknesses slowly,

Unravel our insecurities in a not enough, too soon

Too much, if ever

Not enough, never kind of way.

At the same time, we sit comfortably at each other’s tables

like old friends and lovers of past lives,

expecting things that are usually unexpected,

like we have the imprint of it

already in our souls.

We open ourselves

to phobias,

and maybe even their cures.

waiting on the other side of newly discovered doors…

Not knowing how best to prepare our lovers

for the trigger-bangs that might hit their foreheads,

dead centre before day breaks

if we let the spout flow too quickly

in the kitchen of our concept creations,

See, we are always afraid of the let go of no more,

The seconds and thirds we will crave

So anxious  for arrival that we will it to come faster,

Come hard,

Come screaming down the rails

a locomotive ablaze…

Rip the band-aid quickly.

For the price of a stronger sting, it ends faster.

Or rip it slowly.

Watch each hair pulled free,

each follicle rising angrily at betrayal.

Forgetting the new skin.

Focusing on the scar.

This is my fear of commitment talking,

And this is my desire to overcome,


We went in with a knowing.

We counted the factors,

Found ourselves still wanting one another,

Promised inner-standing,…

Gave faith.

Bringing life back to the centre, slowly…

Picking up pieces and disposing

of what we can,

so it doesn’t trip us on our way up

our spiral staircase.

© Sonya Littlejohn, 2011


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