Julie Fitzpatrick

bio:  I'm a first grade teacher, a pool player, a gardener, a mother of two daughters, a wife, a dog owner, a cat owner, an avid reader, an environmentalist, a fighter for human rights, a philosopher, a quilter, a concerned citizen, and am a grandmother twice over. I am not a cook, a good housekeeper, a drama queen, or a slave to fashion. I was born in Madison and have lived here almost all my life. I get up and stay up late, given the opportunity, and do my best each day to make the world around me a better place for all living things.

*a place where peace begins

Turning point: take a breath,
Love or war, life or death,
Faith or fear, sing or shout,
Give or take, now let it out.

Turning point: stop and think,
Seek or hide, swim or sink,
Grow or die, stand or run,
Tilt your head back, feel the sun.

Turning point: take your time,
Measure every step sublime,
Higher plane, learn your way,
Growing knowledge day by day.

Turning point: look within,
Rest here from the wordly din,
Let peace and love illuminate
Your heart and mind to guide your fate.

© 2007 Julie Fitzpatrick

• • • • •

Not Today

Alcohol diminishes the quality of your life.
It takes your share of happiness and cuts it like a knife.
It undermines relationships as it becomes your wife.
Alcohol plays havoc with the quality of your life.

That cold, glass bottle is not my friend.
It's bound to kill me in the end.
I'm not perfect, but I'm OK.
I don't need alcohol today.

Alcohol relinquishes your judgment to a drink.
It masquerades as freedom inability to think.
Mistakes the size of Texas can be made in a blink.
Alcohol relinquishes your judgment down the sink.

That cold, glass bottle is filled with doom.
It's the elephant in the room.
I'm not perfect, but I'm OK.
I don't need alcohol today.

Alcohol exacerbates your load of daily woe.
It adds a splitting headache to the places you must go.
The troubles you're avoiding are still lined up in a row.
Alcohol's the frosting on your cake of daily woe.

That cold, glass bottle has done me wrong.
It's still tempting, but I'll be strong.
I'm not perfect, but I'm OK.
I don't need alcohol today.

Alcohol incorporates itself into your soul.
It gobbles your self-confidence and leaves a gaping hole.
Regret and disillusionment creep in to fill the role.
Alcohol invites itself to vandalize your soul.

That cold, glass bottle is gonna lose.
I can beat it, if I choose.
I'm not perfect, but I'm OK.
I don't need alcohol today.

Alcohol pretends to be the cure-all you desire.
But it's like treating fever by pouring on more fire.
The more you drink, the more you want, right up 'til you expire.
Alcohol will never be the cure-all you desire.

That cold, glass bottle is in my past.
The last one I drank, WAS my last.
I'm not perfect, but I'm OK.
I don't need alcohol today.

© 2007
Julie Fitzpatrick

• • • • •

Phyllis Norris

Phyllis Norris, you killed my momma,
Killed my momma with your cigarettes.
Phyllis Norris, you're killing my daughter,
Killing my daughter with no regrets.

Phyllis Norris, I watch the TV,
Watch you squirming, late at night.
Phyllis Norris, you say you're sorry,
You sorry liar! That just ain't right!

Phyllis Norris, if you were sorry
You'd stop the killing that you do.
You'd take the nicotine out slowly,
'Til people could quit if they wanted to.

Phyllis Norris, you soulless butcher,
I hope your billions have served you well,
'Cause, Phyllis Norris, they won't protect you,
When you sizzle and fry in the bowels of, well...

Phyllis Norris, your days are numbered,
The suited jackals have you on the run.
They'll pick your bones of every penny,
Now that's what I call serious fun.

Phyllis Norris, I miss my momma,
I wish my momma was still around.
Phyllis Norris, I'll forgive you,
When your company's six feet underground.

©2001 Julie Fitzpatrick

• • • • •

The Tower

Your life is a tower
You build a special way,
Only twenty-four bricks
Can be added each day.

Four walls has your tower,
Each must be strong,
For if one is weak,
The others can't last long.

The first wall is the spirit,
Strengthen it each day,
Think about what's right and wrong,
Meditate or pray.

The second wall is the body,
To move you around,
Exercise and eat right,
To keep the body sound.

The third wall is the social self,
And love is the key,
With family and friends,
We build society.

The last wall is the mind,
With which we think and know,
Work in school and read a lot,
To help your mind grow.

All walls built together,
Can reach to the sky,
To build your hopes and dreams,
And never let them die.

Don't waste your bricks,
Wisely use each one,
Take joy from each hour,
Building towers is fun!

© 2000 Julie Fitzpatrick

• • • • •


Running with our eyes closed,
Screaming through the night,
Afraid to hear the music,
Afraid to see the light,
Following our leaders,
The puppets on TV,
Soothing us like children,
Taking care that we don’t see.

Worldwide web, telephones,
Freedom of the press,
Promise us connection,
Deliver less and less.
They promise us the good life,
Give us cigarettes instead,
With years of litigation,
As we’re piling up the dead.

They tease at our emotions,
Using sex to sell us beer,
Then wonder why we’re violent
When it’s perfectly clear.
They undermine our teachers
Making sure books go unread,
Then for moral guidance
Give us Beavis and Butthead.

Beanie Babes and sports cars,
Perfume and lingerie,
We’re taught to crave our worldly fix,
To need it every day.
We do not recognize
Our terrible addiction,
We just buy more and more
To appease our great affliction.

But deep down is the knowledge
We can never erase,
The horrifying secret
We just can’t seem to face:
That all this stuff we’re buying
Is bought with our own blood,
A raging crimson river
Spent on useless crud.

We know that we are lied to
By the dark vampires of greed.
Our freedom and our future
Are the stuff on which they feed.
We buy our fashion statements
With each hungry child,
Pay for brand new toys
With our eagles in the wild.

We build our great big houses
With our children’s trees,
Furnish them with symptoms
Of our decadent disease.
Caught in the hysteria
We think we must have more,
Don’t dare see the truth
Because we’re scared to the core –

Scared there’ll be a reckoning
For all we’ve left undone,
A final retribution
For our foolish quest for fun.
We cannot face a future
With every good thing lost.
We’ve tried to buy nirvana
At a terrible cost.

So we’re running with our eyes closed,
Screaming through the night,
Screaming through the darkness,
Running from the fight,
Running like the hounds of Hell
Are nipping at our heels,
Running like the gods of Wrath
Are chomping at our wheels...

And they are.

© 2000 Julie Fitzpatrick

• • • • •


A paradigm’s a blueprint
To help you build your tower,
To show you where you’re going,
To give your life power.
The power’s in your principles,
Rules that you create.
They help you make decisions,
Determine your fate.
Your blueprint’s always changing,
You revise it every day,
So every blueprint’s different,
We each see things our own way.
But principles are timeless,
And they’re true the world around,
Like diamonds in the rough
Just waiting to be found.
You add them to your blueprint
As you learn them one by one.
They make your tower stronger,
And you’ll have a lot more fun.
Principles aren’t secret,
They’re mostly common sense,
But you must learn their value
Through your own experience.
Here are some principles
Just to show the way.
See if you can use them
In your tower every day:
‘Always tell the truth,’
‘Never cheat or steal,’
‘Be kind to every living thing,’
‘Respect how others feel.’

© 1998 Julie Fitzpatrick