The stalker 6-3-16

Trust me you will want to read this one entirely! Enjoy 🙂

A couple was over at our house couple nights ago and the topic of me locking all the locks all the time came up. If I am being real the reason I am always doing that, is because the longer I can keep the attacker out the longer I can plan my attack. Where do I start, what angle do I need to be, how high will I have to swing, will I need something solid, or will my knife throwing/jedi skills be enough to take on this MOFO. What if its more than one. How good are they with guns, do they even have guns. I don’t know why I think like this. I’m also that mother that doesn’t allow sleep overs for her children I guess I just don’t want to ever leave them vulnerable. I also do not let them play outside unless I am there or I can see them. And when I do allow them to play in our backyard, they have a timer on and they  know the escape route whichever way the stranger or some one they know comes in the yard, or through the house. I know I am insane. I shouldn’t be this crazy but you know what its something I stand strong on and will not budge. In saying that I would like to share with you guys something very personal to me and pretty much explains a lot of maybe why I am the way I am when it comes to this.

The italic font is the stalker obviously. Some people get confused though…..

The Stalker

A bright white glare stares back at me, as I reach across and pull back my curtains. The bitter cold slips through the cracks, while I watch the children build a snowmen. Across the way, a man daring and old, gives me a wave, dropping an envelope. Shakily I dress, shoes, hat, gloves last, I carry on over, to where he once stood.                After a tear shed, and my shivering stops, I recap, SAD and SHAKEN I, ghostly guided again, I can’t face the pain of remembering his grin,                                                                  Forced to a sofa, his crumbled letter in hand, my eyes swollen, my heart breaking once more, I read what he wrote me, his imaginary plan.

“- My darling I’ll be back to get you, we’ll ship to the shore, the one where my mother and father were born. We’ll go for walks, and have talks, you’ll see,  for you will always be so happy with me. No more tears for you, my dear, do you hear, we are at the end of our troubles, for this I swear. You are my lady, my flower, my power, that holds up my love at the top of your tower. Your innocence lighting the way, we were meant to be. Don’t hesitate darling, you know we are right, to go on with our lives, we can concur this fight. Come see me in the morning, by our pile of wood, I’ll be dress in black; I’ll be wearing a hood. Please respond to my letter, don’t ignore my pleas. For I can make our fantasy come true by Christmas Eve.”

At first he faced like the blank stares, the what are you doing here look? To risking his morals in breathless dares, and lowering his eyes on my left foot, Then over to my right, why suddenly breathing my air?

HIs interest changed so fast, it blew that spark, tumbling words whispering in my ear, “Cars out of gas, lets walk through the park, lets take a stroll on this day every year, this sold to us time, to rhyme with fear.”

My eyes so onto his game ,with fright they chased the glances for I need some direction.  A dead flame is awakened, overpowered by shadow, sucking out my air as the heat grows higher. My chains start to rattle, I can’t get loose, I’m kept, and tied to a predestined atmosphere, whatever is left, That which I hold most sacred in my heart, the half unsheltered, returns to the start. Where I was before I became ripped apart.

“You dared away my morals, you keeper of sin, my black horse whom love can’t be hidden within. Five days of thoughts I had connected with you, then nights of dreams of how to drop you the clue. Many years gone by, I felt the warmth on and off, hugs and kisses, your well place lips so soft. My inner beating hails high don’t stop- don’t move, this isn’t real life; you have nothing to prove. But now I take a stand, in hopes that you command, to have my hand and move to a foreign land. So we can explore all that there is, inside of us each, the side for many decades we’ve been told is weak. Let us enjoy all the pleasures and treasures we seek.”

That was the last letter before being consumed, lurking in the dark, he met his doom.     Hit from behind he fell to the ground, silence was his friend; no one heard a sound

Memories still come and go everyday, his presence a fog that will disappear I pray.                I was stuck in a hole waiting for hours, for someone to find me, un-deflowered. The flashes of red and blue, swarmed my side. Thank God we found her, is she still alive? Streaks of black circled around my eyes, that night my kidnapper mysteriously died. One day, I will be free, haunted no more, by the stalker who buried me on the shore.


Tasha Geller ©copyright 2004


5/9/16 a pilots future

Imagine you go into this room. There is a bed in the middle of the room, sitting high with thick mattresses. The kind you fall into and embrace your peaceful reward with grace and the right amount ingenuity. As you look around the room you see a shadow dancing on the wall, the figurine twirling and circling and giggling with pure delight. A mist fills amongst the walls and across the ceiling. You get goose bumps and you catch your breath as the cold chill crawls up your back. The light goes out, its pitch dark. You can hear scratches cutting through the hardware floor, getting closer and closer to you.

Imagine me walking into this room. I make the room dim from beautifully arranged lights that I wrap around the bottom of the baseboards. It fills the room with just enough light to see a perfect expression. I walk over to the corner and light the fire, take all the blankets off the bed and lay them in front of the roar of the fireplace. The heat, smell, quietness it’s so blissful and familiar. You take your side and I will take mine, and we will cherish this moment of peace and silence. While we allow our minds to wonder and play around we relax to a stillness, and the corners of our mouths curve into smiles.

We can make the most of our dreams even when driven with fear always around us. Telling us we are going to fail. Telling us there are too many obstacles. Telling us we aren’t educated enough, afraid there is someone who is better than us. Getting passed over more than a few times for promotions. Not getting the job you wanted. The real answer to life is turning those obstacles into opportunities. Just like how I took a nightmare of a room, and made it a room we could be comfortable in.

I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this… There’s no better time to get started on those obstacles than there is right now. Take your current situation and pick out the top 3 most thankful things. Then take the top worse 3 things, and match is with one of your first 3 things. Figure out how 1 can help the other. Start there. See where you end up.


Til next time!

Tasha Geller Hollingshead





4-24-2016 Desires

Everyone has a desire, or several. It’s a constant battle for some people to turn and walk away from those deep dark hidden desires. I know I had struggled for years with this. I think I was 25 when I decided that if its so hard, it must be worth it right? Not every desire is going to be the same as yours… I’m going to let you in on what I struggled with. I wrote a very good description and put the words into a poem. I hope you enjoy.

Deathful Desires

Deranged thoughts creep through his uncentered mind,

The clocks, the hands, turning back in time.

The memories always forbidden, always withheld,

Locked and captured always in his shell.

Abstracts and images always a wonder,

Always persisting, trying to ponder.

The sparks flew, the wires they tangled,

The body that fled, the neck was strangled.

The energizing fire, the burning flame,

This mate of mine, these are his games.

His pleasures, his happiness, his ruthful stains,

The stairway to hell, all in for his pains.

The heat, the passion, the bilingual disguise,

For he’s part of my soul, but on the other side.

How can I get back, I’m trapped within,

Hidden in the darkness, drenched with sin.

Tasha Geller ©copyright 2005

4/18/2016 Am I fading?

Hi readers, I know its been a while since I checked in, my goal was to write at least once a week. I need to dedicate myself more to it. I will work on that. But I thought with it being my birthday I would say hi. Currently I am listening to Fade into me, by Mazzy Star. Such a great song, I can escape this tiresome world just hearing this song it knocks over a maze of dominoes that lingers this wonderful given time into the air. It fills my lungs, breathing comes easily. Sometimes I will play it over and over again, yes I know its silly. Does anyone else ever do that, play a song over and over? Why is it that song, what is the meaning behind it. Why are you so connected to it. For me, being almost Deaf sometimes I hear a song, and its not the lyrics I fall in love with. Then later when I look up the lyrics, its like  I knew that song and I were meant to change each other from the beginning. I can’t live without music, I think if I had to go through my life without music I’d die a little each day, until one day not too far away, my suffering would come to an end. It’s often my only way out. Some times there are days where I am running down this winding path, lost, scared, and afraid of tripping over my own feet as I tumble and make my way through all the limbs, bushes, and rocks. It’s like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. I finally run so far that just ahead I see a cliff. The crashing thunderous sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. Will I jump today, or will I sit there on the edge battle my cries and thoughts?

Heres another poem I thought I would share with you guys that I wrote when I was 23 years old. I was married to my first husband (34 yrs), and Danny was his best friend from college. I went over to his and his girlfriend Rheagans apartment. They had all these little blocks of words all over the refrigerator. I decided to write them a poem with the words on the fridge. This is what I came up with and I dedicated this poem to Danny and Rheagan.

The Apartment

Winter bares an elaborate whisper

To the shadow of love watching

Through a true purple urge

Music visions like a void gone away

A sad dream but sweet eternity


18 years old when I wrote this one 1999

The Flower — written in 1999 I was 18 years old

Passion, visions, hallucinations cloud my thoughts of mortality,

Selfishness, lust, burns down my wall of rock hard solid faith.

Years of dedication and commitment come crashing on my head,

Killing me momentarily as our time spins and disappears.

One touch, one moment, one clarification once again unknown,

Cold and shaken, my body frozen, flooding my heart with guilt.

Resting my body next to this stranger, this lover of mine,

An evil cry, a tear held high, this flower left to die.

Tasha Geller ©copyright 1999

The long road ahead 3-26-2016

I must embrace my decision— from my diary entry march of 2010

I know there comes a time in everyones life where you sit back and think, “how did I end up here”. Then there are those times where you are left sitting with a can of beer in one hand and the other is pulling up your knee into a squat on a rock and you just stare out at the lake, thinking damn I could be happier. It’s been a while since I’ve had any moment where my make of progress is like a time stamp in that fork at the end of the road. Where a decision has to be made.

I am standing alone but with hundreds by my side. NO one truly understands me though.I drive people away just to keep from getting hurt, and I trust no one because I’m not to be trusted. Don’t underestimate me people. This girl, thats been stepped on by those who love or claim they love her, even during her entire childhood life. I’ve spent years learning how to defeat people that are like that. I’ve mastered the art of feeling out those that harp on being assholes but are dirty as soil deep in their souls.

I feel either completely stoned or overboard drunk right now. Sitting on my bed, all kinds of jacked up crap going on in my mind. I feel completely out of control, but I am ok with that. My words are jumpy but at least they are coming out. I can release a mother load of stress that I’ve been harboring for months perhaps even the last year. There are days I feel so angry that I want to fight someone that I really hate, then there are days I cry for even thinking of turning into that kind of person. Physical violence is something I am very scared of, don’t get me wrong I can whoop some butt if someone puts it in front of me as a threat to me or those I love. There are days where I just want to lay down and get more than an hour of rest, or go for a drive by myself. Then the guilt sits in and I think of my two beautiful children and then the want of freedom simply disappears.

There are days when I want to be single and not be in a relationship because its easier not to feel. It’s easier to not have to think of someone else’s feelings or giving so much of yourself to them. Will I ever get there, be one of those people that you see that are just so joyful and at peace. I have so many questions and wonder if my life will be long enough to seek out all the answers I long for. I’m not even sure how much time I have left, but I know there are things that I really want. When will I find my answers I so desperately seek?

Tasha Geller (Billie-Jean)


So many of us use our hearts as shields. We make them indestructible. I would like to think we all come into each others lives for a reason. So I try to be more open to people, therefore in the process I usually end up getting disappointed more often than most of you. A lot of people have let me down so much in the past that its hard to accept when I have someone who actually cares for me in my life. But life has blessed me, I guess you could say I got a lot of support in various means and with good people.

I won’t lie, I had an ok childhood. Not your average dream, but not your worse nightmare. I pretty much had to grow up pretty fast, and learn that I only had myself to depend on. I guess that is why so many people tell me I have an old soul. When you are forced to grow up and lose that innocence at an early age, you crave for freedom. I was made fun of by so many children growing up, that I had to figure out how I was going to make it out alive. I was so depressed, and very unhappy I needed to be heard. So I started writing. Mostly just poems and sometimes I would write about my day. Well I am going to share with you guys a poem I wrote when I was 14 years old.

The Final Wait

Tied into a knot of long awaited patience

Brings the time of wants and needs and taste

Twisted on a limb of thorns and heated passion

My lover thinks not of mercy or compassion

Wishing only the moment in time would last

Before the giving moments spent, turn a past

A slap intrudes a wall of proper expressions

A pleasure to be the vision of no exceptions

A line of resistance and uncontrolled capture

Blocked in a silver trimmed blackened picture

Now sitting upright, enclosed on a colorful circle

Smells of a sweet night surrounding me in Purple

Tasha Geller ©copyright 1995