Rewinding myself…
Leaving my disarray behind me I journey forward to find a new color for my kaleidoscope of thoughts.
Unpacking my old feelings to see what will fit with my new thoughts.
Evacuating simple for more complex.
I take my backward glances to the imminent.
Like the Cheshire cat…I disappear…again. But just like Alice, if you are constant I will reappear again.
My focus changes like the wind, as it gently guides me forward.
Losing pieces of me used to be so painful…I gently remove the deep fingers of fear.
Cascading into oblivion I seek his essence in others.
Heroes come and heroes go…
My roots stay with me to expel inside my now.
He has become my constant… he journeys through without to much commitment, without any consequence. Is that what I needed all along?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
this is today...
Adam, Where are you?
As I reread the pages of my past I wonder how we ever got to be where we are today… on or own.
God said to Adam, Where are you?
I try to answer the question for ourselves…”where are we?”
We are smack dab in the middle of today.
Not yesterday and not tomorrow.
Today.
Today we are healthy…more healthy then we have any right to be.
Today we choose to do the right thing.
Today we strive to be better then before.
Today we have a deep understanding of who we are and who we were called to be.
Today we are not angry that life has crapped on us. Today we use that said crap and turned it into real beauty and share it with the world around us.
Today we make no excuses.
Today we do not whine about fairness, and justification.
Today we march forward and ignore the pleas of the lazy, those that refuse to wear or seek the truth inside pain.
Today we dance.
Today we see the world in a way that we pray you never have to see from our perspective.
Today we love abundantly and exclusively those that have been betrayed by their circumstances.
Today we love.
Today we choose to laugh at the terror that tries to replace refuge.
Today we silently smile at those that wonder why we continue to go our own way.
Today we are disciples.
Today we have utter knowledge of truths we would never have chosen for ourselves…but desire to live it anyway…in spite of them.
Today we do not naively see the world through religiosity or uninformed listening to random truths.
We seek the answers for ourselves from authentic study and seeking of the reasons given to us from He who knows all the circumstances.
It has been quite a journey. We began our authentic study four years ago…it began in a quiet park doing specific studies, and trying to fit the truths into our personal existence. T hat has grown into a personal study of all truths from beginning to end.
From “Adam where are you?” to a deeper search for truths as they chose to slay us in the middle of our search.
I have read where we have come from…
Utter despair…true anguish…to silently picking up our cross and bearing the burden of unknowing judgments. We have come to a time of…such a time as this.
People that I know and trust have come to me and said, “I hope my child is like yours one day.” I keep hearing that, and I know that it is not lip service. I know because I want to be like them myself. I know they have been through fire and been through rain. And what they see is the end result of ugliness that has no boundaries. They became disciples of a God that is the only thing that can make sense to them in a world that continues to confuse them. Keeping it real in a façade of religiosity. We are shunned by the righteous, ignored by the good, and judged by the sanctimonious.
Meanwhile, The real deal hurting clamor to find the truth we easily share. The broken and bruised seek to touch the realness of who we are. They, the broken, instinctively know what they cannot know…but they do anyway. The hurting seek the absolute truth we can give…love. To authentically give yourself until you have nothing of yourself to give…begins the beautiful tapestry of giving them Jesus. The real deal Jesus…not the super shiny I love you , you love me kind of religious smiling to your face and ripping out your soul kind of beginner Christian.
I am no longer angry. I know that they just do not know.
I am so glad the religious Christians shunned us…we would never be where we could do the most good. We seek the truly troubled, and offer hope. We live inside authentic belief, despite unspeakable horrors…we could never have be both, church Christians and authentic disciples.
As I reread the pages of my past I wonder how we ever got to be where we are today… on or own.
God said to Adam, Where are you?
I try to answer the question for ourselves…”where are we?”
We are smack dab in the middle of today.
Not yesterday and not tomorrow.
Today.
Today we are healthy…more healthy then we have any right to be.
Today we choose to do the right thing.
Today we strive to be better then before.
Today we have a deep understanding of who we are and who we were called to be.
Today we are not angry that life has crapped on us. Today we use that said crap and turned it into real beauty and share it with the world around us.
Today we make no excuses.
Today we do not whine about fairness, and justification.
Today we march forward and ignore the pleas of the lazy, those that refuse to wear or seek the truth inside pain.
Today we dance.
Today we see the world in a way that we pray you never have to see from our perspective.
Today we love abundantly and exclusively those that have been betrayed by their circumstances.
Today we love.
Today we choose to laugh at the terror that tries to replace refuge.
Today we silently smile at those that wonder why we continue to go our own way.
Today we are disciples.
Today we have utter knowledge of truths we would never have chosen for ourselves…but desire to live it anyway…in spite of them.
Today we do not naively see the world through religiosity or uninformed listening to random truths.
We seek the answers for ourselves from authentic study and seeking of the reasons given to us from He who knows all the circumstances.
It has been quite a journey. We began our authentic study four years ago…it began in a quiet park doing specific studies, and trying to fit the truths into our personal existence. T hat has grown into a personal study of all truths from beginning to end.
From “Adam where are you?” to a deeper search for truths as they chose to slay us in the middle of our search.
I have read where we have come from…
Utter despair…true anguish…to silently picking up our cross and bearing the burden of unknowing judgments. We have come to a time of…such a time as this.
People that I know and trust have come to me and said, “I hope my child is like yours one day.” I keep hearing that, and I know that it is not lip service. I know because I want to be like them myself. I know they have been through fire and been through rain. And what they see is the end result of ugliness that has no boundaries. They became disciples of a God that is the only thing that can make sense to them in a world that continues to confuse them. Keeping it real in a façade of religiosity. We are shunned by the righteous, ignored by the good, and judged by the sanctimonious.
Meanwhile, The real deal hurting clamor to find the truth we easily share. The broken and bruised seek to touch the realness of who we are. They, the broken, instinctively know what they cannot know…but they do anyway. The hurting seek the absolute truth we can give…love. To authentically give yourself until you have nothing of yourself to give…begins the beautiful tapestry of giving them Jesus. The real deal Jesus…not the super shiny I love you , you love me kind of religious smiling to your face and ripping out your soul kind of beginner Christian.
I am no longer angry. I know that they just do not know.
I am so glad the religious Christians shunned us…we would never be where we could do the most good. We seek the truly troubled, and offer hope. We live inside authentic belief, despite unspeakable horrors…we could never have be both, church Christians and authentic disciples.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
today
Perpetual motion.
Cyclical ponderings.
Ideologies of truth.
Wanton desires.
Aerobic nuances.
Brandishing love against the hate everywhere.
It is my weapon of choice.
The armor of truth. And the sword of rightousness.
Do I feel it every second…
Psht no fucking way.
My only hope is in the middle of my humanness I leak truth and love…and utter peace and safety.
The story inside my head wants…no, begs to be said…
It follows me to sleep and gently wakes me in the morning.
Collecting the tapestry’s of my mind to swallow the normalcy, I strive toward the goal…
Finding the wholeness of the story beckons me when I sit silently.
Cyclical ponderings.
Ideologies of truth.
Wanton desires.
Aerobic nuances.
Brandishing love against the hate everywhere.
It is my weapon of choice.
The armor of truth. And the sword of rightousness.
Do I feel it every second…
Psht no fucking way.
My only hope is in the middle of my humanness I leak truth and love…and utter peace and safety.
The story inside my head wants…no, begs to be said…
It follows me to sleep and gently wakes me in the morning.
Collecting the tapestry’s of my mind to swallow the normalcy, I strive toward the goal…
Finding the wholeness of the story beckons me when I sit silently.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
……
I have cut this out of a very large blog...I think in total it was about 24 pages...this is the point I finally got to...after ripping everyones heart open to get to my own pain.
…………………….Our destiny of finding the beauty in negative spaces…
Where we came from to where we are today…
I have a story inside, but I am still afraid… and tired…
More water, I need more water… I think I am in love with water… seriously, I think I need a nightly IV of fluids…
Ahhh clarity of thoughts….
…water is sublime…
Page 7 and I am still trying diligently not to write what will hurt me…make me look bad… condemn me to the outer circle of hell, ahhh Dante…you really do suck…
Now that I have verbally shattered everyone else…I can rip my heart open…again.
Mending myself as I purge the haunting stupidity of my mistakes…
Guilt sucks…even if you don't look at it ..it lingers and festers and boils over until…
I am not a good mother.
I am selfish, I am weak, I am stubborn, I am arrogant, I think I am always right.
Trepidation is folly…
I was thinking about "G's" Grandma … Then my miraculously untamed mind went to …me, of course…me ,mememememe… (you kind of have to sing that, It's a Railey thang.)
…I almost strangled my child on her own guilt and remorse as I tried to refrain from seeing mine…
I thought about Judy… I thought about the time frame of knowing her… I thought about the circle of hell we lived through, my little village and I… watch and wait, watch and wait…
There are two stories that helped me see my frantic madness. (Don't let the normalcy befriend you ..I was completely mad.)
I refused to believe that I could not have the child back that had been lost to me… Steven Kings, Pet cemetery story made perfect sense to me…(If you don't get this part read the book ,but don't watch the movie, cuz you still won't get the allegory through the movie.)
You must truly see how deeply entrenched I was in the complete restoration of my child. Selfishly…I was completely prepared to tear her fragile, delicate heart open to see if she was still there. And She was just as completely ready to let me…I am her mother after all…mother knows best…I am such a bitch!
As I ripped and shredded all the crap from her while she lay perpetually bleeding inside the pain and trauma of my pulling and tugging at her soul…
She's ok…
She's ok…
She's ok…
Her twin remembers…running to get a bowl for her to throw up in as we lay on the floor curled into one another… feeling the trauma all over again…shaking with the velocity of the suffering… medicated and still, so scared…the only way through… is through …right???? again, I'm such a bitch.
Just when her sore would begin to scab over…I picked and picked at it until it bled freely again…relinquishing any of the old to make a fresh new one…only to be picked at again…complete restoration… a word I didn't know yet, but the concept was there. The jackals of hell sat perched next to us, as I washed her non- tear stained face with the fresh washcloth that Fate always had ready…the jackals laughed and told me I was killing her ...she would never be the same…she was damaged…forever broken, doomed to never truly feel anything…
Two stories collide inside my mind as they were told to me…
I had wrapped my baby up in her death shroud.. .her death clothes like Lazarus, believing that I would have her back, snarling and biting at anyone that told me I couldn't…Forcing everyone to do just as I directed…
…. Cocooned and safe inside our misery we clung to each other… all three of us…
…I sat cross legged on the floor of my bedroom looking through the box of pictures… I realized our life was distinctly cut into two separate lines. Before the rape of my children and after. I even had the pictures marked in that way. Metaphorically, One box of 'before' and one box 'after'…unknowingly…until the Spirit of God came and smacked me around a bit…
I sat and looked at the picture of a smiling carefree baby that I clung to...the four year old I craved to hold and smile at…
…and I went away… I lost myself…I caved inside my misery… I suddenly became less… I closed my eyes and saw… an alter… way past a field of green, green grass. I see the alter now… it was made of rocks. shaped from huge rocks to form the alter…I heard a thought inside my head… 'Can you lay her down? Can you put her on this rock and remove her death shroud? Can you put her there and walk away. Remove her clinging fingers from your flesh and walk away? Give her to me…GIVE HER TO ME. Even if it means her death…can you let me have her? Take me to where you lay down your faith and then remove her death clothes, even if she dies… Even if she dies, can you give her to me…'
… suddenly I came back to myself and I felt her real physical presence next to me. She sat with me cross legged on the floor of my bedroom, and held a picture of herself in one hand from the 'before' box, and in her other hand she had a mirror…She wanted to show me…She was practicing …"Is this how I used to smile mommy," and she pasted her little face with the same smile in the picture of before ,yet her smile didn't reach her eyes, still she tried it again and again as I watched I horror… I watched my eight year old try to become four again…right in front of me…she put a mask on for me… for me…for me… so I wouldn't be sad… sickened, and disgusted… I watched her in silence as my heart broke open and poured the pain and tears I had tried so hard to keep in check…
"….give her to me…now!"
…time would not go backwards for me no matter how hard I prayed…
…yet, I couldn't let go…
I closed my eyes and went… To the place…that place …there was no reprieve there either… I saw the alter, I looked down and saw that I held her and she was covered in white cloths. I held her close to me and I began to shred from her the small pieces of cloths…she frantically tried to stop my tearing and pulling… I refused to look her in the eyes…I couldn't, it hurt way to much…she trusted me. I tore the covering I had given her to exist in,
…The apathetic covering of waiting for the miracle of time going backwards for Mary…
I felt my tears in the natural world rain from me… I tore at the cloths as she tried to stop me, I could feel her fear, her disbelief…she had just been trying to please me… then I pushed her up to the slabs of granite… she turned to cling to me…she was naked, uncovered, unclothed…Confusion was the only emotion on her face… I tore her free from me and pushed her onto the cold grey slab…
…death would be better then this… We could no longer exist inside this apathy…
… I would see her again…
….I didn't understand what was happening, or how it could happen…
…just that time was short and I better hurry…
I pushed her from me… My spirit screaming for help…because I was literally drowning in my own tears…
…choking, I turned and walked away as I heard her pleas for me to get her…come and get her… mommy, come back…
…As I opened my eyes again in the physical world around me, she was gone…frantic delirium coursed through me as I stood to find her…
…didn't mean it…
…Didn't mean it…
She lay on the couch, her face and head wet with moisture…she was wet… but never with tears… she was asleep…
…Each time after, I had to give her to Him… it hurt less and less…
Again and again I had to metaphorically push her to Him… I couldn't mend her…He was the only hope we had of any appeasement.
…So I made her cry…
…I had to make her mad…
She was deficient to any genuine feelings…
…she had become quite good at mockery…
…Fake, Fake, Fake… not authentic, suppressed emotions to appear normal…
Anger was the easiest to discover inside her blank walls…
I had to make her angry, and hurt… I had to make her feel something…anything… If she couldn't feel she would never heal, or mend…She would be broken and damaged forever… I would not have that… she would be doomed to manufactured feelings…fake…
Naming emotions did not work. Showing her emotions did not work…blank words on a page… while other mothers showed their five year old the alphabet cards. I was showing mine pictures of emotions on peoples faces. To be real… to feel again…
…I pushed her away again and again… 'not me, I can't save you.' I would whisper wretchedly… I pushed her away… back to Him… It hurt so bad…and I was frozen inside my fear.
…back to Him again and again…
…slowly she began to appear…
………………………………...........Ok, ok…I'll be real, tearing the scab from myself is not as painful, but still very scary…This is how it really went down… no more bull----. This is how I ripped her soul open… disgracefully. This is me, no restraints, undignified and callous, purging to get to the truth at any cost…are you sure you want to know me? Of course you don't! the picturesque leaves are falling outside but, it sounds like hail. Yet, the beauty inside the fall is breathtaking… like that, baby. Just like that.
I sat on the couch. She blankly sat across from me staring at me as she always did… I prayed as I always did…I could recognize the urgency in the feelings around me… She stared at me and I talked to God inside my head…
…and the jackals laughed, 'now she is out there on her own…your not there, no one is there…'
……conflicting thoughts collided……..
…make her feel…something, anything… pick an emotion… my bones ached with constant fatigue…I felt so heavy, my body was beginning to match my soul…So large and bloated with the emptiness around me…
…so tired…
So very tired…
… I began the rant…I didn't feel the words, I contrived them like she did. I mocked the emotion to hurt her…to make her feel… it felt horrible, detestable, acid in my mouth…
…She looked at me suddenly with a new light in her eyes…"mommy, don't say that…" her little girl voice begged me to stop, but I saw the light and felt hope even as I felt complete loathing for the way into her darkened soul…I hated the way my spirit felt as I purged into her soul, hatefully … But I saw the light in her eyes, then the tears came…TEARS! Real honest tears…I ripped her soul open and saw her inner recesses. She was not gone! …just hidden.
…"baby, do you know what that is your feeling right now…" She looked at me as big authentic tears sprung from her eyes…"hate" …she replied… It was the easiest emotion to find.
Frantically I took back all the unbearable words and fell at her feet in a heap… I explained to her that we had just felt her first emotion since the dismantling of her mind and soul. (Some four years earlier. While your child was learning to ride a bike, mine was learning how to feel real emotions again. so you'll excuse me if I can't live in your random world of 'he likes me better then you.. No, he likes me better…STOP! …I please God; not man.) I told her, It feels bad now… but don't let go of it yet…ride it … don't let go…
… medication would be needed and upped at each new emotion we uncovered.(muah! to all the doctors involved and doing exactly what I directed as I needed it and never questioning the pathway back.) we would have to search and find, and bring the feelings back to us…with excruciating lethargy… We were on a journey to find my Lyric and she was well buried.
….finding the beauty in negative spaces…
The path back felt like an eternity, but I see now that it was less then a year. Not even a real year…just a school year… ha, those people at our old school NEVER want to see me again…They thought it would be a great idea to move to another district …yeah, don't fuck with a momma bear. She can smell fear and she will blissfully rip your throat out if you come after her cub… (Really, and not just with words either, I was utterly prepared to battle anyone who stepped in my way.) A wounded cub is not to be messed with.
…purging yesterday to conquer tomorrow…
The battle is bloody and strewn with ugly debris. The bodies you leave laying in waste while you journey on cannot be calculated or respected as you force your way to the other side of authentic belief. It's like I have told my girls and my nieces before them…
…beauty is never painless…
…Pretend is fun, but it's not real…
…Fake is a sad charade…
…Truth is vital and analytical …
…fallacy is a nocturnal obsession…
… deliberate excuses are dangerous…
…fighting defiantly to get to a place where you can rest, as you reflect on the importance of the journey is paramount or you will find yourself without passion, or flavor… salt with no flavor… I implore you to Find a safe place to rest your head… the journey is great; even as the suffering is vast.
************************DISCLAIMER**********************************
Purging and posting the essence of the existence I cruise around in is eminent to the whys I dream about when I am not dreaming of Him, the Holy one. He is the way… the truth…and the life… the same yesterday…today… and forever…truly! I am busy examining the whys, as I careen, headfirst and laughingly into the past of the life I tried to leave behind. Have no fear as I hold you up to the microscope of who you are, I am also diligently peering into the abyss of who I am. I love me even though I am a bitch…I can, because He loves me even when I am un-lovable. I also give you the same consideration. Whispered promises of tomorrow can only make sense if you analyze and dissect the past. Or maybe I am completely insane by now and I am really an old lady reliving my past as I want to see it… no, no I think I would make myself look better if that were the case.
Anyway, we journey through from the things that hurt, my girls and I, and we are busy praying for those that made a difference in our life. There are so many. So don't be a hater…Experiences are stepping stones and we have been sent to do greater things then you can even imagine. I want to be afraid…but He won't let me. I want to stop ,but He won't let go…I owe Him my soul, so I give it to Him as I beseech you to remove the tentacles of the past from my spirit and let us bloom. I can't be who I was…I can only be who I am…today. Pure of heart, full of grace, blissfully happy uncovering Him and understanding the love He pours forth to me continuously. What a God!
************my postings will continue……I have purged all the hate and reserved only the love, so I will diligently march forward into the journey He put before us. Forever resting in the scriptures Luke 6;22-23,27-35 and 2 Corinthians 4;8-10.
Peace and Love,
Mary the great
I have cut this out of a very large blog...I think in total it was about 24 pages...this is the point I finally got to...after ripping everyones heart open to get to my own pain.
…………………….Our destiny of finding the beauty in negative spaces…
Where we came from to where we are today…
I have a story inside, but I am still afraid… and tired…
More water, I need more water… I think I am in love with water… seriously, I think I need a nightly IV of fluids…
Ahhh clarity of thoughts….
…water is sublime…
Page 7 and I am still trying diligently not to write what will hurt me…make me look bad… condemn me to the outer circle of hell, ahhh Dante…you really do suck…
Now that I have verbally shattered everyone else…I can rip my heart open…again.
Mending myself as I purge the haunting stupidity of my mistakes…
Guilt sucks…even if you don't look at it ..it lingers and festers and boils over until…
I am not a good mother.
I am selfish, I am weak, I am stubborn, I am arrogant, I think I am always right.
Trepidation is folly…
I was thinking about "G's" Grandma … Then my miraculously untamed mind went to …me, of course…me ,mememememe… (you kind of have to sing that, It's a Railey thang.)
…I almost strangled my child on her own guilt and remorse as I tried to refrain from seeing mine…
I thought about Judy… I thought about the time frame of knowing her… I thought about the circle of hell we lived through, my little village and I… watch and wait, watch and wait…
There are two stories that helped me see my frantic madness. (Don't let the normalcy befriend you ..I was completely mad.)
I refused to believe that I could not have the child back that had been lost to me… Steven Kings, Pet cemetery story made perfect sense to me…(If you don't get this part read the book ,but don't watch the movie, cuz you still won't get the allegory through the movie.)
You must truly see how deeply entrenched I was in the complete restoration of my child. Selfishly…I was completely prepared to tear her fragile, delicate heart open to see if she was still there. And She was just as completely ready to let me…I am her mother after all…mother knows best…I am such a bitch!
As I ripped and shredded all the crap from her while she lay perpetually bleeding inside the pain and trauma of my pulling and tugging at her soul…
She's ok…
She's ok…
She's ok…
Her twin remembers…running to get a bowl for her to throw up in as we lay on the floor curled into one another… feeling the trauma all over again…shaking with the velocity of the suffering… medicated and still, so scared…the only way through… is through …right???? again, I'm such a bitch.
Just when her sore would begin to scab over…I picked and picked at it until it bled freely again…relinquishing any of the old to make a fresh new one…only to be picked at again…complete restoration… a word I didn't know yet, but the concept was there. The jackals of hell sat perched next to us, as I washed her non- tear stained face with the fresh washcloth that Fate always had ready…the jackals laughed and told me I was killing her ...she would never be the same…she was damaged…forever broken, doomed to never truly feel anything…
Two stories collide inside my mind as they were told to me…
I had wrapped my baby up in her death shroud.. .her death clothes like Lazarus, believing that I would have her back, snarling and biting at anyone that told me I couldn't…Forcing everyone to do just as I directed…
…. Cocooned and safe inside our misery we clung to each other… all three of us…
…I sat cross legged on the floor of my bedroom looking through the box of pictures… I realized our life was distinctly cut into two separate lines. Before the rape of my children and after. I even had the pictures marked in that way. Metaphorically, One box of 'before' and one box 'after'…unknowingly…until the Spirit of God came and smacked me around a bit…
I sat and looked at the picture of a smiling carefree baby that I clung to...the four year old I craved to hold and smile at…
…and I went away… I lost myself…I caved inside my misery… I suddenly became less… I closed my eyes and saw… an alter… way past a field of green, green grass. I see the alter now… it was made of rocks. shaped from huge rocks to form the alter…I heard a thought inside my head… 'Can you lay her down? Can you put her on this rock and remove her death shroud? Can you put her there and walk away. Remove her clinging fingers from your flesh and walk away? Give her to me…GIVE HER TO ME. Even if it means her death…can you let me have her? Take me to where you lay down your faith and then remove her death clothes, even if she dies… Even if she dies, can you give her to me…'
… suddenly I came back to myself and I felt her real physical presence next to me. She sat with me cross legged on the floor of my bedroom, and held a picture of herself in one hand from the 'before' box, and in her other hand she had a mirror…She wanted to show me…She was practicing …"Is this how I used to smile mommy," and she pasted her little face with the same smile in the picture of before ,yet her smile didn't reach her eyes, still she tried it again and again as I watched I horror… I watched my eight year old try to become four again…right in front of me…she put a mask on for me… for me…for me… so I wouldn't be sad… sickened, and disgusted… I watched her in silence as my heart broke open and poured the pain and tears I had tried so hard to keep in check…
"….give her to me…now!"
…time would not go backwards for me no matter how hard I prayed…
…yet, I couldn't let go…
I closed my eyes and went… To the place…that place …there was no reprieve there either… I saw the alter, I looked down and saw that I held her and she was covered in white cloths. I held her close to me and I began to shred from her the small pieces of cloths…she frantically tried to stop my tearing and pulling… I refused to look her in the eyes…I couldn't, it hurt way to much…she trusted me. I tore the covering I had given her to exist in,
…The apathetic covering of waiting for the miracle of time going backwards for Mary…
I felt my tears in the natural world rain from me… I tore at the cloths as she tried to stop me, I could feel her fear, her disbelief…she had just been trying to please me… then I pushed her up to the slabs of granite… she turned to cling to me…she was naked, uncovered, unclothed…Confusion was the only emotion on her face… I tore her free from me and pushed her onto the cold grey slab…
…death would be better then this… We could no longer exist inside this apathy…
… I would see her again…
….I didn't understand what was happening, or how it could happen…
…just that time was short and I better hurry…
I pushed her from me… My spirit screaming for help…because I was literally drowning in my own tears…
…choking, I turned and walked away as I heard her pleas for me to get her…come and get her… mommy, come back…
…As I opened my eyes again in the physical world around me, she was gone…frantic delirium coursed through me as I stood to find her…
…didn't mean it…
…Didn't mean it…
She lay on the couch, her face and head wet with moisture…she was wet… but never with tears… she was asleep…
…Each time after, I had to give her to Him… it hurt less and less…
Again and again I had to metaphorically push her to Him… I couldn't mend her…He was the only hope we had of any appeasement.
…So I made her cry…
…I had to make her mad…
She was deficient to any genuine feelings…
…she had become quite good at mockery…
…Fake, Fake, Fake… not authentic, suppressed emotions to appear normal…
Anger was the easiest to discover inside her blank walls…
I had to make her angry, and hurt… I had to make her feel something…anything… If she couldn't feel she would never heal, or mend…She would be broken and damaged forever… I would not have that… she would be doomed to manufactured feelings…fake…
Naming emotions did not work. Showing her emotions did not work…blank words on a page… while other mothers showed their five year old the alphabet cards. I was showing mine pictures of emotions on peoples faces. To be real… to feel again…
…I pushed her away again and again… 'not me, I can't save you.' I would whisper wretchedly… I pushed her away… back to Him… It hurt so bad…and I was frozen inside my fear.
…back to Him again and again…
…slowly she began to appear…
………………………………...........Ok, ok…I'll be real, tearing the scab from myself is not as painful, but still very scary…This is how it really went down… no more bull----. This is how I ripped her soul open… disgracefully. This is me, no restraints, undignified and callous, purging to get to the truth at any cost…are you sure you want to know me? Of course you don't! the picturesque leaves are falling outside but, it sounds like hail. Yet, the beauty inside the fall is breathtaking… like that, baby. Just like that.
I sat on the couch. She blankly sat across from me staring at me as she always did… I prayed as I always did…I could recognize the urgency in the feelings around me… She stared at me and I talked to God inside my head…
…and the jackals laughed, 'now she is out there on her own…your not there, no one is there…'
……conflicting thoughts collided……..
…make her feel…something, anything… pick an emotion… my bones ached with constant fatigue…I felt so heavy, my body was beginning to match my soul…So large and bloated with the emptiness around me…
…so tired…
So very tired…
… I began the rant…I didn't feel the words, I contrived them like she did. I mocked the emotion to hurt her…to make her feel… it felt horrible, detestable, acid in my mouth…
…She looked at me suddenly with a new light in her eyes…"mommy, don't say that…" her little girl voice begged me to stop, but I saw the light and felt hope even as I felt complete loathing for the way into her darkened soul…I hated the way my spirit felt as I purged into her soul, hatefully … But I saw the light in her eyes, then the tears came…TEARS! Real honest tears…I ripped her soul open and saw her inner recesses. She was not gone! …just hidden.
…"baby, do you know what that is your feeling right now…" She looked at me as big authentic tears sprung from her eyes…"hate" …she replied… It was the easiest emotion to find.
Frantically I took back all the unbearable words and fell at her feet in a heap… I explained to her that we had just felt her first emotion since the dismantling of her mind and soul. (Some four years earlier. While your child was learning to ride a bike, mine was learning how to feel real emotions again. so you'll excuse me if I can't live in your random world of 'he likes me better then you.. No, he likes me better…STOP! …I please God; not man.) I told her, It feels bad now… but don't let go of it yet…ride it … don't let go…
… medication would be needed and upped at each new emotion we uncovered.(muah! to all the doctors involved and doing exactly what I directed as I needed it and never questioning the pathway back.) we would have to search and find, and bring the feelings back to us…with excruciating lethargy… We were on a journey to find my Lyric and she was well buried.
….finding the beauty in negative spaces…
The path back felt like an eternity, but I see now that it was less then a year. Not even a real year…just a school year… ha, those people at our old school NEVER want to see me again…They thought it would be a great idea to move to another district …yeah, don't fuck with a momma bear. She can smell fear and she will blissfully rip your throat out if you come after her cub… (Really, and not just with words either, I was utterly prepared to battle anyone who stepped in my way.) A wounded cub is not to be messed with.
…purging yesterday to conquer tomorrow…
The battle is bloody and strewn with ugly debris. The bodies you leave laying in waste while you journey on cannot be calculated or respected as you force your way to the other side of authentic belief. It's like I have told my girls and my nieces before them…
…beauty is never painless…
…Pretend is fun, but it's not real…
…Fake is a sad charade…
…Truth is vital and analytical …
…fallacy is a nocturnal obsession…
… deliberate excuses are dangerous…
…fighting defiantly to get to a place where you can rest, as you reflect on the importance of the journey is paramount or you will find yourself without passion, or flavor… salt with no flavor… I implore you to Find a safe place to rest your head… the journey is great; even as the suffering is vast.
************************DISCLAIMER**********************************
Purging and posting the essence of the existence I cruise around in is eminent to the whys I dream about when I am not dreaming of Him, the Holy one. He is the way… the truth…and the life… the same yesterday…today… and forever…truly! I am busy examining the whys, as I careen, headfirst and laughingly into the past of the life I tried to leave behind. Have no fear as I hold you up to the microscope of who you are, I am also diligently peering into the abyss of who I am. I love me even though I am a bitch…I can, because He loves me even when I am un-lovable. I also give you the same consideration. Whispered promises of tomorrow can only make sense if you analyze and dissect the past. Or maybe I am completely insane by now and I am really an old lady reliving my past as I want to see it… no, no I think I would make myself look better if that were the case.
Anyway, we journey through from the things that hurt, my girls and I, and we are busy praying for those that made a difference in our life. There are so many. So don't be a hater…Experiences are stepping stones and we have been sent to do greater things then you can even imagine. I want to be afraid…but He won't let me. I want to stop ,but He won't let go…I owe Him my soul, so I give it to Him as I beseech you to remove the tentacles of the past from my spirit and let us bloom. I can't be who I was…I can only be who I am…today. Pure of heart, full of grace, blissfully happy uncovering Him and understanding the love He pours forth to me continuously. What a God!
************my postings will continue……I have purged all the hate and reserved only the love, so I will diligently march forward into the journey He put before us. Forever resting in the scriptures Luke 6;22-23,27-35 and 2 Corinthians 4;8-10.
Peace and Love,
Mary the great
Man I am a manic mess sometimes...re-reading my rapid fire thoughts confuse me now...It seems I had a lot to say and such a short time get there before I went in another direction. How anyone could read me and not see the fractured thoughts...idk...still there is good stuff in the middle of my madness I think...so I will repost this one as well.
take a deep breath, it’s a long one this time!
Back to the way back, baby…
Reflection of the truth I stumbled around a while back. Time has no effect on me, because it just runs away from me so quickly. My peeps remember with laughter how my clock is set to one time and one time only…I ,uh don't change the time during time change because it messes with my head…I lose myself…I must know what time it REALLY is…so they all call it 'Mary time'… but you just gotta add or subtract the real time or whatever…whatever that means. My clock doesn't change.
Yah, my new boss has only just met me ,but he already knows me better then most people… he told me the other day, 'why is it when I talk to you, I feel like I am chasing my own tail!' teehee… I am not sure if I am offended by that or not…hmmm. Funny thought though, I do know that!
Anyway, that was not why I started writing today. I saw a picture yesterday. It was a picture of the girls. It was taken on a day that haunts us when we sleep. Fate had found it and asked if we could throw it away…burn it…or tear it up? I wouldn't let her, because… They were so small, so young… strange how one picture in time can take you back to a place in your head…negating all the history and truth that pulled you out of the pit of nasty that in one instant tried to kick the breath outa ya the first time around. It's like in a movie, all you get to see is the tunnel vision…like everything zooms into that one instant. And the feelings you had in that one instant crashes into your now, overpowering the peace you tentatively hang onto. 'Breathe', the voice in my head shouts…'breathe…your not there , it's not happening now, your out… breathe, deep breaths.'
Uh, That's not the point either…
The point is… taking responsibility in my history. Remember random and purpose…yah, I wasn't insane when I wrote that...not quite… just chasing my own tail, man. (I have always understood the Cheshire cat in Alice in wonderland.) Random…random things causing chaos in spite of your purpose or maybe because of your purpose. I am not going to go back to read what I wrote…I hate to do that… my old writing is like smoke…or dominoes. I build upon them until I can get to the other side…right or wrong...I don't care… it's who I am …no apology's…please don't make me go back and dissect what I said once…It's degrading and demoralizing for me. I'm already way past it, baby…are you tripping over my thoughts of yesterday, oh well, wait until you hear what I think today! Psht… mortals, teehee …just kidding! Tina, if your reading this: I can feel your eyes rolling.
I like to read Lord Byron, right...he said one time when asked, why does he write , he said I don't want you to become me, or even like me, I want you to take my thoughts and find your own way there, or around them… if ya can…or not…your call. Ok yah, I paraphrased, but there it is. Ya know build your own history and if my thought made you think about something…then I am done. I feel liberated...again, no apology's. Chasing your own tail, right. If you don't like it then stop reading it…right, just because it's there and handed to you. you don't have to take a hit off it…right? Just say no…right? I can, and have said , no for over 11 years now, no thanks ,man I got a better high then you can find in this world!!!!
I digressed again, dancing around the pain in the telling of the truth.
It was my fault. I was the adult and I left my girls in the care of others, innocently.
We all have choices, right? Random will slap you silly… sometimes. But the truth inside random is that there can be a purpose to it, if ya let it. But first you must take the responsibility of your actions, however innocent, however simple it seems...people will sometimes get hurt... Even when you mean no one any harm. Your innocently trying to do what you think is best for everyone and someone gets hurt.. Random.
Take responsibility for it so you can move forward.
It's like this…
I didn't mean for someone to hurt my children. It was never even a thought in my head… innocently I took my girls to a free babysitter. Something terrible happened. I didn't cause it. I didn't ask for it. I didn't invite it. I didn't even fathom the possibility. But wham! Random came and brought its friend chaos and raped our collective souls.
Crying, no,no… screaming out to Him…. my love, the maker of my soul. I raged why… "Ripples…ripples from the pebble thrown into the pond." You throw two pebbles in, no matter how far apart their thrown, the ripples will eventually run into one another causing an effect, right? I could sit back and scream , I didn't mean for that to happen, but it wouldn't change their history, it would only cause them more pain? Denial is a real bitch. Just because I didn't mean for something to happen it didn't take away the trauma of the random happening. I had to take my part in their history, my bad choice, my decision, my pebble. I had to say my sorry… Our councilor argued… hell everyone argued…and we stayed in our own circle of hell, until I looked my daughter in her angry eyes and told her my sorry for my wrong choice. I meant no harm …BUT, my pebble caused a current that could not be taken away no matter what we did...it would remain…no matter how hard we prayed ,no matter how hard we tried to ignore it...it was there. No do-overs. History is complete in the instant you breath. You can't take back some things…you can't pretend it isn't there. What's done is done. Call it what it is. Take responsibility for it. Name it, tame it, but you can't control it…it is what it is. Cogs in the wheels right? We don't mean to hurt other people …we just do by mere randomness. Our intent must matter, yes , but responsibility of our misguided intent must be analyzed first.
Meaning no harm, but causing a ripple in the pond of our existence is our personal responsibility to learn from … or , comprehensively… to give into. Releasing yourself into the random, allows the purpose to emerge beautifully. Take a breath and allow the beauty of your ripples...it's like taking your hands off the death grip of yesterday to get to the promise of today. Ahhhhh. that's it, man. It's when I took my hands off my version of reality, and what everyone else was telling me, and let Jesus show me the promise He had for me… I saw the truth. Undoing me to find Him…oh, oh, oh that's it , man…teehee, I love living inside my head… or, ya know… you can just have another drink, smoke another joint, live inside your own pride, live inside your self created destiny, deny your responsibility in the chaos around you...ya know… whatever…Or take the truth and bring it very close to your face and kiss it seductively even when there is unbearable pain.. There is beauty in the truth however painful it is. When you come out from the dismal belief in a half truth you can find the inner working of the cogs and wheels and not be scared…
….if your scared…go to church… ha, ha, ha …sorry! inside joke…some of my readers will get that and if you don't get it … don't get offended … it wasn't meant for you, baby. Ahem, your not my only reader. Remember, I belong to heaven. I know who defines me! I know who I am…do you?
The end of my tail is simple, yet unyielding…I'm not gonna stop writing…it's who I am, who I have always been, who He created me to be. The Written word creates intimacy, between the writer and the reader...it always has…it always will. If you don't get that...I don't know why your even reading me! I read blogs all the time and I comment the writers…all the time. Intimacy is important for me, it propels me to new levels. I take full responsibility for the intimacy I relate and try to propel forward, but as a reader, you must take responsibility for your own passionate responses. Knowing the writer should not deviate the feelings of intimacy, or incur the wrath of the emotions that are provoked by the written word. That would be your bad… or your childish rejection of a innocent thought that got deep into your soul, in spite of yourself. Ya know, show you who you fear you have become. Muah!…always…muah!
Reminds me of the time I drove my friend through a group of protestors at an abortion clinic…they didn't know what was going around our heads.,…they didn't know as we drove away from them that she was still pregnant, because instead of me telling her and controlling her destiny and becoming her god I let Jesus do what He came to do. I let God be God, because I have complete faith in His abilities…and I know I am only human and mortal. I don't want to screw anything up He is trying to do and I know His ways are so way better then mine…yah, her baby is now almost one and everyone still wants to fight about it…
Mystical, really …holding a baby that you fought for; without saying a word…living and breathing His beauty, His love, His glory…not mine, not me… I'm a speck in the dust… but authentic beauty releases me to the truth of His love...and she now is one of us...whoop, whoop… who would have thought a thought like that… a nice complete family reaching out for the kingdom of heaven, maybe not from your history…not the way anyone thought they would get there…but getting there anyway…in spite of the obstacles. I took me out, I left me behind… I let my dramatic, and fervent prayers be answered and now we have one family more for His glory! Not mine…not me, man. Being a disciple to His people as He would if He were with them, instead of us; mere mortals trying to control the outcomes before us. If I have learned anything from my history it is that my way is not always His way…I don't get it when I am in the middle of the chaos or trauma that I feel around me…but I have utter faith that He will bring it to an end and I will have complete understanding if I take my death grip off of it and let Him lead me. It was a hard lesson for me, as I am such a control freak, and I know what should happen to make my picture perfect life complete. I mean I absolutely know what I want to happen to make everyone happy… but I can't make everyone happy.(I sooooo wanted to tell her exactly what to do…I mean I am older and wiser and…of course killing is wrong….but it wasn't about me, was it? ..I wasn't even a trespasser into her mind…I had to be a blank slate . He had to be there in my place.) Telling her what to do is not my job. My job is to love, indiscriminately…unquestionably…and absolutely. Bring the love ,baby…the rest will follow…let yourself go and become crazy in love…gotta ,gotta have it…I'm a love a love addict!!!
"Live vivaciously, love deeply, and pray fervently.
Remember to give with simplicity and serve with humility.
Still, observe that meekness does not necessitate weakness.
Therefore, when challenged by obstacles, fight with tenacity."
T.D. Jakes
Oh yeah! Nothing in the world more attractive than a man on his knees at the alter of Christ…oh yeah…It's a big world and I have seen many things lately …I glimpsed a piece of heaven last Sunday… I felt the pull of authentic belief as a young man , with not one thing left to him… let his face crumple into a mask of absolute remorse and fear. He stumbled to the alter of my God and lay at the feet of the only hope he could feel as his world collapsed into the oblivion he thought he had control of. The utter pain and humility and total disregard of anything else in this world receding from his tentative grasp on this world left him clutching and grasping at a Deity I intimately know and love. I was humbled…unreservedly humbled by the love of Gods grace and love…
humbling yourself to the will of Jesus Christ is a beauty that equates to nothing else. I've been roaming for awhile now. Roaming inside the confines of where He directs me to visit. Picking up pieces of life and discarding the negative as I go and seek His face, My Being a watcher into the service of other Disciples… watching those around me reach out to a Deity, that they know is the only thing that can save them when they are down to that last breath…ahhhhhh...That's my peeps, man… gotta, gotta have it. Love addict….That's where I want to live, and praise and love…A disciple… a revolutionist… absolutely, and utterly alive in a second of time. Breathing deeply the love that is offered, however tentatively and fearfully. Offering it anyway… There is ,I think authentic beauty in the stunning fear of the Deity that created me. Or ,ya know…I could be wrong…just a thought I am currently chasing. Wanna run with me????
take a deep breath, it’s a long one this time!
Back to the way back, baby…
Reflection of the truth I stumbled around a while back. Time has no effect on me, because it just runs away from me so quickly. My peeps remember with laughter how my clock is set to one time and one time only…I ,uh don't change the time during time change because it messes with my head…I lose myself…I must know what time it REALLY is…so they all call it 'Mary time'… but you just gotta add or subtract the real time or whatever…whatever that means. My clock doesn't change.
Yah, my new boss has only just met me ,but he already knows me better then most people… he told me the other day, 'why is it when I talk to you, I feel like I am chasing my own tail!' teehee… I am not sure if I am offended by that or not…hmmm. Funny thought though, I do know that!
Anyway, that was not why I started writing today. I saw a picture yesterday. It was a picture of the girls. It was taken on a day that haunts us when we sleep. Fate had found it and asked if we could throw it away…burn it…or tear it up? I wouldn't let her, because… They were so small, so young… strange how one picture in time can take you back to a place in your head…negating all the history and truth that pulled you out of the pit of nasty that in one instant tried to kick the breath outa ya the first time around. It's like in a movie, all you get to see is the tunnel vision…like everything zooms into that one instant. And the feelings you had in that one instant crashes into your now, overpowering the peace you tentatively hang onto. 'Breathe', the voice in my head shouts…'breathe…your not there , it's not happening now, your out… breathe, deep breaths.'
Uh, That's not the point either…
The point is… taking responsibility in my history. Remember random and purpose…yah, I wasn't insane when I wrote that...not quite… just chasing my own tail, man. (I have always understood the Cheshire cat in Alice in wonderland.) Random…random things causing chaos in spite of your purpose or maybe because of your purpose. I am not going to go back to read what I wrote…I hate to do that… my old writing is like smoke…or dominoes. I build upon them until I can get to the other side…right or wrong...I don't care… it's who I am …no apology's…please don't make me go back and dissect what I said once…It's degrading and demoralizing for me. I'm already way past it, baby…are you tripping over my thoughts of yesterday, oh well, wait until you hear what I think today! Psht… mortals, teehee …just kidding! Tina, if your reading this: I can feel your eyes rolling.
I like to read Lord Byron, right...he said one time when asked, why does he write , he said I don't want you to become me, or even like me, I want you to take my thoughts and find your own way there, or around them… if ya can…or not…your call. Ok yah, I paraphrased, but there it is. Ya know build your own history and if my thought made you think about something…then I am done. I feel liberated...again, no apology's. Chasing your own tail, right. If you don't like it then stop reading it…right, just because it's there and handed to you. you don't have to take a hit off it…right? Just say no…right? I can, and have said , no for over 11 years now, no thanks ,man I got a better high then you can find in this world!!!!
I digressed again, dancing around the pain in the telling of the truth.
It was my fault. I was the adult and I left my girls in the care of others, innocently.
We all have choices, right? Random will slap you silly… sometimes. But the truth inside random is that there can be a purpose to it, if ya let it. But first you must take the responsibility of your actions, however innocent, however simple it seems...people will sometimes get hurt... Even when you mean no one any harm. Your innocently trying to do what you think is best for everyone and someone gets hurt.. Random.
Take responsibility for it so you can move forward.
It's like this…
I didn't mean for someone to hurt my children. It was never even a thought in my head… innocently I took my girls to a free babysitter. Something terrible happened. I didn't cause it. I didn't ask for it. I didn't invite it. I didn't even fathom the possibility. But wham! Random came and brought its friend chaos and raped our collective souls.
Crying, no,no… screaming out to Him…. my love, the maker of my soul. I raged why… "Ripples…ripples from the pebble thrown into the pond." You throw two pebbles in, no matter how far apart their thrown, the ripples will eventually run into one another causing an effect, right? I could sit back and scream , I didn't mean for that to happen, but it wouldn't change their history, it would only cause them more pain? Denial is a real bitch. Just because I didn't mean for something to happen it didn't take away the trauma of the random happening. I had to take my part in their history, my bad choice, my decision, my pebble. I had to say my sorry… Our councilor argued… hell everyone argued…and we stayed in our own circle of hell, until I looked my daughter in her angry eyes and told her my sorry for my wrong choice. I meant no harm …BUT, my pebble caused a current that could not be taken away no matter what we did...it would remain…no matter how hard we prayed ,no matter how hard we tried to ignore it...it was there. No do-overs. History is complete in the instant you breath. You can't take back some things…you can't pretend it isn't there. What's done is done. Call it what it is. Take responsibility for it. Name it, tame it, but you can't control it…it is what it is. Cogs in the wheels right? We don't mean to hurt other people …we just do by mere randomness. Our intent must matter, yes , but responsibility of our misguided intent must be analyzed first.
Meaning no harm, but causing a ripple in the pond of our existence is our personal responsibility to learn from … or , comprehensively… to give into. Releasing yourself into the random, allows the purpose to emerge beautifully. Take a breath and allow the beauty of your ripples...it's like taking your hands off the death grip of yesterday to get to the promise of today. Ahhhhh. that's it, man. It's when I took my hands off my version of reality, and what everyone else was telling me, and let Jesus show me the promise He had for me… I saw the truth. Undoing me to find Him…oh, oh, oh that's it , man…teehee, I love living inside my head… or, ya know… you can just have another drink, smoke another joint, live inside your own pride, live inside your self created destiny, deny your responsibility in the chaos around you...ya know… whatever…Or take the truth and bring it very close to your face and kiss it seductively even when there is unbearable pain.. There is beauty in the truth however painful it is. When you come out from the dismal belief in a half truth you can find the inner working of the cogs and wheels and not be scared…
….if your scared…go to church… ha, ha, ha …sorry! inside joke…some of my readers will get that and if you don't get it … don't get offended … it wasn't meant for you, baby. Ahem, your not my only reader. Remember, I belong to heaven. I know who defines me! I know who I am…do you?
The end of my tail is simple, yet unyielding…I'm not gonna stop writing…it's who I am, who I have always been, who He created me to be. The Written word creates intimacy, between the writer and the reader...it always has…it always will. If you don't get that...I don't know why your even reading me! I read blogs all the time and I comment the writers…all the time. Intimacy is important for me, it propels me to new levels. I take full responsibility for the intimacy I relate and try to propel forward, but as a reader, you must take responsibility for your own passionate responses. Knowing the writer should not deviate the feelings of intimacy, or incur the wrath of the emotions that are provoked by the written word. That would be your bad… or your childish rejection of a innocent thought that got deep into your soul, in spite of yourself. Ya know, show you who you fear you have become. Muah!…always…muah!
Reminds me of the time I drove my friend through a group of protestors at an abortion clinic…they didn't know what was going around our heads.,…they didn't know as we drove away from them that she was still pregnant, because instead of me telling her and controlling her destiny and becoming her god I let Jesus do what He came to do. I let God be God, because I have complete faith in His abilities…and I know I am only human and mortal. I don't want to screw anything up He is trying to do and I know His ways are so way better then mine…yah, her baby is now almost one and everyone still wants to fight about it…
Mystical, really …holding a baby that you fought for; without saying a word…living and breathing His beauty, His love, His glory…not mine, not me… I'm a speck in the dust… but authentic beauty releases me to the truth of His love...and she now is one of us...whoop, whoop… who would have thought a thought like that… a nice complete family reaching out for the kingdom of heaven, maybe not from your history…not the way anyone thought they would get there…but getting there anyway…in spite of the obstacles. I took me out, I left me behind… I let my dramatic, and fervent prayers be answered and now we have one family more for His glory! Not mine…not me, man. Being a disciple to His people as He would if He were with them, instead of us; mere mortals trying to control the outcomes before us. If I have learned anything from my history it is that my way is not always His way…I don't get it when I am in the middle of the chaos or trauma that I feel around me…but I have utter faith that He will bring it to an end and I will have complete understanding if I take my death grip off of it and let Him lead me. It was a hard lesson for me, as I am such a control freak, and I know what should happen to make my picture perfect life complete. I mean I absolutely know what I want to happen to make everyone happy… but I can't make everyone happy.(I sooooo wanted to tell her exactly what to do…I mean I am older and wiser and…of course killing is wrong….but it wasn't about me, was it? ..I wasn't even a trespasser into her mind…I had to be a blank slate . He had to be there in my place.) Telling her what to do is not my job. My job is to love, indiscriminately…unquestionably…and absolutely. Bring the love ,baby…the rest will follow…let yourself go and become crazy in love…gotta ,gotta have it…I'm a love a love addict!!!
"Live vivaciously, love deeply, and pray fervently.
Remember to give with simplicity and serve with humility.
Still, observe that meekness does not necessitate weakness.
Therefore, when challenged by obstacles, fight with tenacity."
T.D. Jakes
Oh yeah! Nothing in the world more attractive than a man on his knees at the alter of Christ…oh yeah…It's a big world and I have seen many things lately …I glimpsed a piece of heaven last Sunday… I felt the pull of authentic belief as a young man , with not one thing left to him… let his face crumple into a mask of absolute remorse and fear. He stumbled to the alter of my God and lay at the feet of the only hope he could feel as his world collapsed into the oblivion he thought he had control of. The utter pain and humility and total disregard of anything else in this world receding from his tentative grasp on this world left him clutching and grasping at a Deity I intimately know and love. I was humbled…unreservedly humbled by the love of Gods grace and love…
humbling yourself to the will of Jesus Christ is a beauty that equates to nothing else. I've been roaming for awhile now. Roaming inside the confines of where He directs me to visit. Picking up pieces of life and discarding the negative as I go and seek His face, My Being a watcher into the service of other Disciples… watching those around me reach out to a Deity, that they know is the only thing that can save them when they are down to that last breath…ahhhhhh...That's my peeps, man… gotta, gotta have it. Love addict….That's where I want to live, and praise and love…A disciple… a revolutionist… absolutely, and utterly alive in a second of time. Breathing deeply the love that is offered, however tentatively and fearfully. Offering it anyway… There is ,I think authentic beauty in the stunning fear of the Deity that created me. Or ,ya know…I could be wrong…just a thought I am currently chasing. Wanna run with me????
another disclaimer...I wrote this one year out from a five year court trial. Is a little scattered,but ya thats how I write...sometimes.
ha! I found it!!
Ok. Let me be up front with you…k? I am completely and irreversibly lost in my postings. I have written so many things…I am like…lost. I don’t know if I have let you in on all my secrets or not…hmmm.
I want to talk about a conversation I had today, but I don’t know if I have written about it…or if I wrote about it and didn’t post it…cuz that happens a lot…Aggggg, I hate how disorganized I am…
Ok…what ever…I write to much , I talk to much, I think to much, I smoke to much, I am way to much!!!!! My boobs are to big for my shirt, I should wear my hair different, I should wear clothes that fit me and not hang off me…I should say yes to the guys that ask me out, I have way to many personalities… AHEM!!! can you tell I had lunch with my mother today???? OMG I pick at my daughters all the time too…I suck…. I will be better, I will be better, I will be better… psht, I’m getting ready to yell at them right now. Sometimes I have to silent scream in my head…. We went to the grocery store today…I know, I know its my fault, why do I ask them what they want if I am going to argue and get mad when they don’t pick what I want….Man I am annoying… Why would I ever think three distinct personalities could co exist and want the same things.
A guy I work with looks at me all the time and innocently provides the answers to all my conundrums… psht! what is it with men always having a good answer to the processing of my thoughts… and then telling me how I should do things instead of the way I do them… I’m not living in the thoughts. right girls...I’m processing the stupidity of my annoying emotions. I won’t stay in the processing I will get to the other side and be o….k…. I may start out here and go there and then back over here and say some really terrible things in between…but uh, yeah I don’t live there...I will get to the end and then be ok and done with the thought…Don’t tell me how to fix it… Or don’t go and tell everyone what I thought for that instant of confusion, on my way to get to the other side of the truth… just listen and smile…be a friend, and tell me something that makes you crazy too. And don’t think I live in all the processing thoughts that got me to the end of it...because I will look at you with genuinely innocent eyes, not understanding why your looking at me that way. Uh, I have already, with the help of true friends , that don’t distribute my private in a moment of anger or pain or rage or confusing processing thoughts, reached the other side of my thought and found a truth waiting for me…I’m not existing in the confusion, pain, disbelief, or anger anymore…uh, what’s wrong with you??? Why are you mad??? Being a girl sucks! King Solomen said, “ I have been all over and found few righteous men…and no righteous women“… yah! I know, I wanted to argue…but ,uh, well I do agree. Girls are mean, yet soft and sweet and full of grace… teehee, come on I am the mother of two little girls…I get the whole drama thang! Processing thoughts is a part of who we are… I tell the girls just be careful who you process with. Friends keep secret thoughts secrets…bitches share the parts that will make them look good even to the detriment of others ,sure it might cripple the person they are telling the secrets too, but what do they care…as long as they look good, they don’t care how it makes anyone else feel …right? Yep! Some girls are bitches. Ok,ok all girls are bitches, its what you do with the bitchiness that counts. Do you keep it to yourself or share with the world you live in??? I got told last night I am a big bitch, or wait that I was being a big bitch…I didn’t argue. I love being with real people that can call it like it is and call me out on my bitchiness… so refreshing, oh so tasty! I looked him dead in the eyes and told him he was being a dick. And then we walked away from each other… and then went back together again…because who else is going to tell us the truth about ourselves when we are busy lying to our collective souls. I don’t need another fake, non-real person reinforcing the lies I try to live in to keep me in the same level of existence I have surrounded myself with. Give me validity or give me death, man.
Ok, ok I was talking about dinner with my parents, with no wine in sight either… A sober conversation about crap I don’t want to talk about. I am in hell!!! They choose a topic that they always go to…no matter where we are. They are still processing… and their confusion makes my heart ache.
Realizing now I was not alone in my battle for justice, I merely felt all alone. I only felt like I was fighting the whole freaking world. I was being watched, and analyzed and quoted and … I was not alone. I don’t know, it really felt like I was alone. Hmmm, now that all the dust has settled and everyone has come to the conclusion that I really am not what a select few say that I am….because I have no history of their perception of me… and they sat in the courtroom and watched the lunacy unfold as the hilarity of the drama was exaggerated to the extreme…
….truths were told, now they can be told without overstretched emotions… which is to say, they are not as scared of me now…as they once were when I was in constant pain, and unbelievable terror. I don’t swing out the first thing that moves now… I am not filled with passionate hate and mistrust of everyone…yeah, I feel the love of my master ,now…so truths were told.
…. I listened intently as they spoke of their still constant hate and rage and…I couldn’t feel any of it. Humph, what a trip…nothing…no pain, no remorse, not apathy either…just, just, just… hmmm, ‘yah the persps are sad, and God hates the sin ,but doesn’t hate the sinner and they too could be forgiven‘…and still nothing, no pain, no rage, no utter sickness. Where the hell did Mary go????
…… I took people on a journey I didn’t want to go on…but we all went anyway…pebbles in a pond.
My niece, well my niece by marriage was 19 and just married when the horror show began…
…………..so young, and trusting… She is one of my favorite people in the whole world… soul mates…I’ve known her my whole life. We met when she was 17., I think I was thirty. … and then the unthinkable happened…how do you process that when your so young and childless. She used to leave me notes and lyrics to songs on my door…I don’t think anyone could look me in the eyes. Raw, absolute pain is hard to look at for very long and I tried to make everyone see mine., vividly. She encouraged me when I thought I might drown in my anguish. She brought me Jesus’ words, and scriptures. She made me get up and walk again, after I had already wrapped my burial clothes around me and my children. She helped me find me again, had she known me before??? Muah! Brittany! Love, love, love!!!!
…my horror show had a cast of many players… Each one had a part to play in my melodrama. Each one tried to shine a light into my dark world that I tried to keep everyone out of.
many important characters…
My sister, who had to come and play an actual on camera role. Her role got bigger and bigger as the days progressed. She never even tried out, she was just thrown in at the last minute. Always reliable, always willing to do her part… always willing to get a little dirty , and like me , laugh at you for laughing at her. That is my sister who I miss. 20 whole miles away. I wish everyone could see you as I see you Kim.
Her daughter played an extremely, extremely, extremely important role. Did I say extremely? She was my rock...and she married and had her first child in the middle of it… and many other incidents and traumas. My rock...yeah she was my rock… never wavering, always believing, always understanding…and if you knew what a b--- she was…humph , really though , I aint gonna lie…my rock. Sometimes you need a b--- in your life...I think… Samantha I hope one day you see, and know who you are…you are my rock, and you probably thought I was the strong one…Although it was your strength that kept me going!
………My friends…oh my many friends… how sick they had to have been to hear my drama…one more time, yet if I didn’t give updates they called to see what was happening… not for excitements sake, as I had a lot of those too. But real run for the tissue friends who called everyone you hated a s.o.b and explained very vividly how they should die. I fear naming them, but you know who you are…
….even small parts were important to me…I think about all the little things my village did for us.
……..Important men in my childrens life, I know I’ve blogged those before…
it was like we had our own little cheering section…
..funny, how I didn’t feel it when I was in it…I only felt the exceptionally few who called me names.
…I remember one women, she had heard I was a bitch from the perpetrators, she walked up to me to be introduced to me by my niece, she said she wanted to meet the biggest bitch in Blackwell… looking her dead in the eyes, I said flippantly, “don’t f--- my children , and we should get along peachy.“ (insert a big f---ing smile) I know, I know I lose control of my mouth all the time.
Forethought, Mary…forethought ..
I still suck at that…I never think before I act, or speak. Is that why people are afraid to talk to me?…truth flies out of my mouth, kind of regurgitating up on them their secret fears and facades??? Oh, Well I must suck, then.
People remind me tentatively, of our tortured history…and look at me surprised as I no longer feel the pain or the hate or the rage…anything other then love…hmmm, I have seen the perps. I look at them with real sadness, how black they must feel inside… how lost they must be… how ugly they look… lost, sad, lonely, and tortured… God told me a long time ago… they will always be that, but you, Mary…you will be great… you will be fine…you will find your way free from the pain…So , ahem…as Abram before me…I proclaimed His words and spoke myself into that existence…Mary the great…and I feel great… words, man…words have power…Overwhelmed with love … I have found myself very addicted… I could never go back to anything less then where He is… at the detriment to whatever doesn’t line up to His words, His love, His peace…I don’t have time for the drama...I ,uh …already reached my quota. I feel peachy, baby…oh so tasty.
….I look around at the people I made come with me on my journey and I feel like I have left them behind…I tried to take them with me…I realize that we are all keepers of our own souls…I know this truth… but at the same time I don’t want them to feel the pain as deeply as I once did. I recognize that pain and it feels horrendous, demanding and ugly.
I tried through my blogs to bring them with me to the end of who I was… to be who I am… to propel the truth to who we all are…so they too could reach the end of themselves without my apparently damaging trauma and turmoil creating misplaced faith to find the truth inside authentic love. I am still trying to undue the thing I had become… Lincoln park, man… If you went on my ride to other side of faith and you got lost…I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you…I was just busy pulling the mask from my face and finding the truth hidden beneath. Life really is beautiful, really it is. Thank you Nikki!
ha! I found it!!
Ok. Let me be up front with you…k? I am completely and irreversibly lost in my postings. I have written so many things…I am like…lost. I don’t know if I have let you in on all my secrets or not…hmmm.
I want to talk about a conversation I had today, but I don’t know if I have written about it…or if I wrote about it and didn’t post it…cuz that happens a lot…Aggggg, I hate how disorganized I am…
Ok…what ever…I write to much , I talk to much, I think to much, I smoke to much, I am way to much!!!!! My boobs are to big for my shirt, I should wear my hair different, I should wear clothes that fit me and not hang off me…I should say yes to the guys that ask me out, I have way to many personalities… AHEM!!! can you tell I had lunch with my mother today???? OMG I pick at my daughters all the time too…I suck…. I will be better, I will be better, I will be better… psht, I’m getting ready to yell at them right now. Sometimes I have to silent scream in my head…. We went to the grocery store today…I know, I know its my fault, why do I ask them what they want if I am going to argue and get mad when they don’t pick what I want….Man I am annoying… Why would I ever think three distinct personalities could co exist and want the same things.
A guy I work with looks at me all the time and innocently provides the answers to all my conundrums… psht! what is it with men always having a good answer to the processing of my thoughts… and then telling me how I should do things instead of the way I do them… I’m not living in the thoughts. right girls...I’m processing the stupidity of my annoying emotions. I won’t stay in the processing I will get to the other side and be o….k…. I may start out here and go there and then back over here and say some really terrible things in between…but uh, yeah I don’t live there...I will get to the end and then be ok and done with the thought…Don’t tell me how to fix it… Or don’t go and tell everyone what I thought for that instant of confusion, on my way to get to the other side of the truth… just listen and smile…be a friend, and tell me something that makes you crazy too. And don’t think I live in all the processing thoughts that got me to the end of it...because I will look at you with genuinely innocent eyes, not understanding why your looking at me that way. Uh, I have already, with the help of true friends , that don’t distribute my private in a moment of anger or pain or rage or confusing processing thoughts, reached the other side of my thought and found a truth waiting for me…I’m not existing in the confusion, pain, disbelief, or anger anymore…uh, what’s wrong with you??? Why are you mad??? Being a girl sucks! King Solomen said, “ I have been all over and found few righteous men…and no righteous women“… yah! I know, I wanted to argue…but ,uh, well I do agree. Girls are mean, yet soft and sweet and full of grace… teehee, come on I am the mother of two little girls…I get the whole drama thang! Processing thoughts is a part of who we are… I tell the girls just be careful who you process with. Friends keep secret thoughts secrets…bitches share the parts that will make them look good even to the detriment of others ,sure it might cripple the person they are telling the secrets too, but what do they care…as long as they look good, they don’t care how it makes anyone else feel …right? Yep! Some girls are bitches. Ok,ok all girls are bitches, its what you do with the bitchiness that counts. Do you keep it to yourself or share with the world you live in??? I got told last night I am a big bitch, or wait that I was being a big bitch…I didn’t argue. I love being with real people that can call it like it is and call me out on my bitchiness… so refreshing, oh so tasty! I looked him dead in the eyes and told him he was being a dick. And then we walked away from each other… and then went back together again…because who else is going to tell us the truth about ourselves when we are busy lying to our collective souls. I don’t need another fake, non-real person reinforcing the lies I try to live in to keep me in the same level of existence I have surrounded myself with. Give me validity or give me death, man.
Ok, ok I was talking about dinner with my parents, with no wine in sight either… A sober conversation about crap I don’t want to talk about. I am in hell!!! They choose a topic that they always go to…no matter where we are. They are still processing… and their confusion makes my heart ache.
Realizing now I was not alone in my battle for justice, I merely felt all alone. I only felt like I was fighting the whole freaking world. I was being watched, and analyzed and quoted and … I was not alone. I don’t know, it really felt like I was alone. Hmmm, now that all the dust has settled and everyone has come to the conclusion that I really am not what a select few say that I am….because I have no history of their perception of me… and they sat in the courtroom and watched the lunacy unfold as the hilarity of the drama was exaggerated to the extreme…
….truths were told, now they can be told without overstretched emotions… which is to say, they are not as scared of me now…as they once were when I was in constant pain, and unbelievable terror. I don’t swing out the first thing that moves now… I am not filled with passionate hate and mistrust of everyone…yeah, I feel the love of my master ,now…so truths were told.
…. I listened intently as they spoke of their still constant hate and rage and…I couldn’t feel any of it. Humph, what a trip…nothing…no pain, no remorse, not apathy either…just, just, just… hmmm, ‘yah the persps are sad, and God hates the sin ,but doesn’t hate the sinner and they too could be forgiven‘…and still nothing, no pain, no rage, no utter sickness. Where the hell did Mary go????
…… I took people on a journey I didn’t want to go on…but we all went anyway…pebbles in a pond.
My niece, well my niece by marriage was 19 and just married when the horror show began…
…………..so young, and trusting… She is one of my favorite people in the whole world… soul mates…I’ve known her my whole life. We met when she was 17., I think I was thirty. … and then the unthinkable happened…how do you process that when your so young and childless. She used to leave me notes and lyrics to songs on my door…I don’t think anyone could look me in the eyes. Raw, absolute pain is hard to look at for very long and I tried to make everyone see mine., vividly. She encouraged me when I thought I might drown in my anguish. She brought me Jesus’ words, and scriptures. She made me get up and walk again, after I had already wrapped my burial clothes around me and my children. She helped me find me again, had she known me before??? Muah! Brittany! Love, love, love!!!!
…my horror show had a cast of many players… Each one had a part to play in my melodrama. Each one tried to shine a light into my dark world that I tried to keep everyone out of.
many important characters…
My sister, who had to come and play an actual on camera role. Her role got bigger and bigger as the days progressed. She never even tried out, she was just thrown in at the last minute. Always reliable, always willing to do her part… always willing to get a little dirty , and like me , laugh at you for laughing at her. That is my sister who I miss. 20 whole miles away. I wish everyone could see you as I see you Kim.
Her daughter played an extremely, extremely, extremely important role. Did I say extremely? She was my rock...and she married and had her first child in the middle of it… and many other incidents and traumas. My rock...yeah she was my rock… never wavering, always believing, always understanding…and if you knew what a b--- she was…humph , really though , I aint gonna lie…my rock. Sometimes you need a b--- in your life...I think… Samantha I hope one day you see, and know who you are…you are my rock, and you probably thought I was the strong one…Although it was your strength that kept me going!
………My friends…oh my many friends… how sick they had to have been to hear my drama…one more time, yet if I didn’t give updates they called to see what was happening… not for excitements sake, as I had a lot of those too. But real run for the tissue friends who called everyone you hated a s.o.b and explained very vividly how they should die. I fear naming them, but you know who you are…
….even small parts were important to me…I think about all the little things my village did for us.
……..Important men in my childrens life, I know I’ve blogged those before…
it was like we had our own little cheering section…
..funny, how I didn’t feel it when I was in it…I only felt the exceptionally few who called me names.
…I remember one women, she had heard I was a bitch from the perpetrators, she walked up to me to be introduced to me by my niece, she said she wanted to meet the biggest bitch in Blackwell… looking her dead in the eyes, I said flippantly, “don’t f--- my children , and we should get along peachy.“ (insert a big f---ing smile) I know, I know I lose control of my mouth all the time.
Forethought, Mary…forethought ..
I still suck at that…I never think before I act, or speak. Is that why people are afraid to talk to me?…truth flies out of my mouth, kind of regurgitating up on them their secret fears and facades??? Oh, Well I must suck, then.
People remind me tentatively, of our tortured history…and look at me surprised as I no longer feel the pain or the hate or the rage…anything other then love…hmmm, I have seen the perps. I look at them with real sadness, how black they must feel inside… how lost they must be… how ugly they look… lost, sad, lonely, and tortured… God told me a long time ago… they will always be that, but you, Mary…you will be great… you will be fine…you will find your way free from the pain…So , ahem…as Abram before me…I proclaimed His words and spoke myself into that existence…Mary the great…and I feel great… words, man…words have power…Overwhelmed with love … I have found myself very addicted… I could never go back to anything less then where He is… at the detriment to whatever doesn’t line up to His words, His love, His peace…I don’t have time for the drama...I ,uh …already reached my quota. I feel peachy, baby…oh so tasty.
….I look around at the people I made come with me on my journey and I feel like I have left them behind…I tried to take them with me…I realize that we are all keepers of our own souls…I know this truth… but at the same time I don’t want them to feel the pain as deeply as I once did. I recognize that pain and it feels horrendous, demanding and ugly.
I tried through my blogs to bring them with me to the end of who I was… to be who I am… to propel the truth to who we all are…so they too could reach the end of themselves without my apparently damaging trauma and turmoil creating misplaced faith to find the truth inside authentic love. I am still trying to undue the thing I had become… Lincoln park, man… If you went on my ride to other side of faith and you got lost…I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you…I was just busy pulling the mask from my face and finding the truth hidden beneath. Life really is beautiful, really it is. Thank you Nikki!
My beautiful mind summons me to come and play yet again…
I miss her…she beckons so gently at first…. It is easy to hide from her soft glances…
Intensity invades my play as I try to find the reason inside the lunacy I run from as I ignore her pleas…
The rolling waves of the seacoast I keep inside my mind threatens first then ravenously reasons for me to come back to play…inside the memory of what I have become.
Tearing my heart open I see the redness from the scars I run from as I pretend nothing matters when It all matters so much…so much…so much…
We become what we cannot control or overcome….
I need to be free from the tremors from the day before yesterday…I keep time with the tick tock from the clock that lives only in my head as I try to find the one I left behind….in my search for me…
Delirium seeks me as I search for the sorrow I can’t fit into anymore…
I lost me while I tore the colossal thoughts that used to fit me when I wore my sadness.
I feel the grey covering my eyes as I try to touch solid ground…
I can reach the sky ,but solid ground escapes my grasp.
Floating into the openness of the release I begged for …fear calibrates my thoughts as I try to find me…yet again….
Marrying the memory to the tomorrow is thoughtful and mundane all at once.
Your fear does not fear you.
Panic-stricken laughter is all you have left as they try to find the reason for your ability to soar.
Finding the answer inside your madness is a sublime chase that beacons you weather you want to play or hide.
Seeking the answer before understanding the riddle is heartbreaking and audacious.
Chasing the wind feels like satin against my naked body as I wait…
Finding the one I can worship leaves me tingly and anxious…
I loath the stares from the abyss as I try to find my way back to the one I can worship again.
They hold their breath as I transcend into the nothingness that they are; as they try to suffocate all there ever was.
I miss her…she beckons so gently at first…. It is easy to hide from her soft glances…
Intensity invades my play as I try to find the reason inside the lunacy I run from as I ignore her pleas…
The rolling waves of the seacoast I keep inside my mind threatens first then ravenously reasons for me to come back to play…inside the memory of what I have become.
Tearing my heart open I see the redness from the scars I run from as I pretend nothing matters when It all matters so much…so much…so much…
We become what we cannot control or overcome….
I need to be free from the tremors from the day before yesterday…I keep time with the tick tock from the clock that lives only in my head as I try to find the one I left behind….in my search for me…
Delirium seeks me as I search for the sorrow I can’t fit into anymore…
I lost me while I tore the colossal thoughts that used to fit me when I wore my sadness.
I feel the grey covering my eyes as I try to touch solid ground…
I can reach the sky ,but solid ground escapes my grasp.
Floating into the openness of the release I begged for …fear calibrates my thoughts as I try to find me…yet again….
Marrying the memory to the tomorrow is thoughtful and mundane all at once.
Your fear does not fear you.
Panic-stricken laughter is all you have left as they try to find the reason for your ability to soar.
Finding the answer inside your madness is a sublime chase that beacons you weather you want to play or hide.
Seeking the answer before understanding the riddle is heartbreaking and audacious.
Chasing the wind feels like satin against my naked body as I wait…
Finding the one I can worship leaves me tingly and anxious…
I loath the stares from the abyss as I try to find my way back to the one I can worship again.
They hold their breath as I transcend into the nothingness that they are; as they try to suffocate all there ever was.
ahem...and then she said this....
Seeing words erupt in front of my face as I try to taste the color of the disease they create.
Tripping across the sky to the bottom of the meadow that lives inside my head as I scream inside my perception of a truth.
Seeking the emptiness of the lies to hide from the fear I wrap myself up in when I try to find my slumber.
Laughing at the empty space in between then and now as I try to become real.
Sunshine erupts from the darkness as I try to steal tomorrow.
Subsiding nuances clamor to be the energy I need to breath.
Aching desires rescue me when I cant feel my heartbeat anymore.
Feeling the color to the hate that permeates inside the half truths that I reside in makes my skin quake at each breath I take.
You can’t be my every thought as I try to reach the sky ..on my own…on my own…on my own….
Pride fills my nostrils as I toss the truth from my heaving bosom to find the pain…to find the pain I misplaced yet again.
Pain in the form of ecstasy entices me to be free from the fear I labor to keep with me as I dream.
Pain looks like a kaleidoscope of colors as I close my eyes to this world and I take flight on my own…on my own…on my own.
Shearing stabs inside my flesh as I search for the face in my dreams…I search …I search …I search…
Releasing me to find the pain inside the sorrow of yesterday I try to find the surface from the pond of torment I keep my lover in…
Laughing at my torrid dance of hide and seek I shield my face from the penetrating glare of the intense stare from your eyes as I dream… my dream…on my own…on my own…on my own…
Reconciling yesterday to tomorrow leaves me shaking from the pain I cannot ignore…
Living inside lunacy is a twist of pristine colors that fall from my lips as I rapturously entangle my nature into the world I can touch.
Falling from the clouds I become one with the sky as I careen into the world that you live in…
Living inside my scream I try to be free from the guilt as I left Him without my dreams to find me…on my own...on my own…on my own.
Seeing words erupt in front of my face as I try to taste the color of the disease they create.
Tripping across the sky to the bottom of the meadow that lives inside my head as I scream inside my perception of a truth.
Seeking the emptiness of the lies to hide from the fear I wrap myself up in when I try to find my slumber.
Laughing at the empty space in between then and now as I try to become real.
Sunshine erupts from the darkness as I try to steal tomorrow.
Subsiding nuances clamor to be the energy I need to breath.
Aching desires rescue me when I cant feel my heartbeat anymore.
Feeling the color to the hate that permeates inside the half truths that I reside in makes my skin quake at each breath I take.
You can’t be my every thought as I try to reach the sky ..on my own…on my own…on my own….
Pride fills my nostrils as I toss the truth from my heaving bosom to find the pain…to find the pain I misplaced yet again.
Pain in the form of ecstasy entices me to be free from the fear I labor to keep with me as I dream.
Pain looks like a kaleidoscope of colors as I close my eyes to this world and I take flight on my own…on my own…on my own.
Shearing stabs inside my flesh as I search for the face in my dreams…I search …I search …I search…
Releasing me to find the pain inside the sorrow of yesterday I try to find the surface from the pond of torment I keep my lover in…
Laughing at my torrid dance of hide and seek I shield my face from the penetrating glare of the intense stare from your eyes as I dream… my dream…on my own…on my own…on my own…
Reconciling yesterday to tomorrow leaves me shaking from the pain I cannot ignore…
Living inside lunacy is a twist of pristine colors that fall from my lips as I rapturously entangle my nature into the world I can touch.
Falling from the clouds I become one with the sky as I careen into the world that you live in…
Living inside my scream I try to be free from the guilt as I left Him without my dreams to find me…on my own...on my own…on my own.
I'm placing the disclaimer in the beginning of this blog, because I think that you need to have a little clarity before you begin reading. I wrote this just after starting a job after intensive training to be a peer recovery support spec. Wonders of wonders...my past keeps throwing up at me and I keep dissecting my own and others behaver as I careen into the instant I find myself stuck in. I had just had my best friend move away...and I was lost in my past and my future colliding...without a friend.
posting all my crap again...
CONFRONTING MYSELF
Confronting my psychosis… I can say it and know it and love it…I wish everyone were as loving as I myself am to my abnormality.
Living with crazy my whole life has been a rollercoaster of normal to insane to normal to insane… and not just my own madness either.
Delusions are tangible if you create your own personal world and stay inside your mania, but there is real danger inside that thought. Breaking out of your own self prescribed delirium can give you perspective and normalcy, and so you must strive to embrace everyday reality to come back to yourself to look back on your thoughts and see them for what they are…crazy.
Crazy is fun….
I love projecting my thoughts to others until they believe that I believe them, completely and totally…then I say psht wtf…Did you believe my madness….igtg now and be real uh over here…k! But thanks for the feedback…I’m gonna come over here and write my thoughts in the form of a story and YOU my friend may be my main character.
Manic behavior can be so exhausting. I think knowing I am right in the middle of my own mania is pristine and overpowering. Or I could be completely fucking wrong.
Crazy thoughts…
Crazy patterns…
Living inside the mania that lives inside my head…
I’m ok…
I’m ok….
I’m ok…
Crazy …. psychiatric disorder….
Analytically I could talk about the nature of the tender mind of the insane… but where would the laughter be then?
Systematically I could diagnose those closest to me… but why uncover the madness if you don’t have to?
My ability to discover other peoples’ neurosis at every turn will only lead you to think I am artificially intelligent when I in truth I have been in traditional therapy so many times… I can recite the definitions to my own personal labels as easily as I change my appearances to fit the box they try to keep me in as I frantically write my thoughts down so that I can remember to have my dreams.
Intrigued yet???
I’m a fucking trip, right?
My beautiful mind erupts upon itself only every now and then now… Its easier to conceal the damage now that I understand my own insanity.
Please don’t misunderstand me and my reason for writing to you my inner most thoughts. I love being who I am…I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want to be ordinary. I would never pretend normalcy for the sake of appearing normal. The conundrum for me is … are you normal because you only have normal thoughts or ahem do you just keep your thoughts to yourself…because they are crazy… yah I don’t know…
I only really know that I embrace my mania, my deep thoughts….my insanity…but I maintain the ability to turn my thoughts onto your normal life and laugh my ass off at your uptight neurotic ways of doing things.
I met my first really sane person the other day. He probably doesn’t know he is sane. How could he, he was a beautiful , luscious plant in a field of dried up weeds…and all the weeds were telling him that he is a weed. Sure he doesn’t feel like a weed, he looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a weed, yet everyone around him tells him that he is a weed like them….he was no fucking weed!
He was a strong rock in the middle of my insane life that just keeps regurgitating itself up on me. When I got all wrapped up in my crazy he would look at me and say , “Mary, that’s crazy…. Where do you want to eat?” ahhhhhhh……… completely no judgment…just a mere observation…. I love him…. He just named my mania…and loved me anyway….sort of dismissing my insanity, as a consequence not focusing on it…and loving me anyway….
Until him, I had never met a normal person that I could stomach to be with and desire to be with… Maybe I was just so sick of the weeds that seems to continually surround me… he was like a deep intake of air that I needed to survive in the middle of the ocean I dream in. What will I ever do without him? Where will that next intake of air come from?
I guess I will journey on, although this time it will be more difficult. He never fit into any of my usual cast of characters. All that normalcy without the sardonic twist of superiority. Did I say he was sane? As in no neurosis, well none to striking as to point them out. Clever, clever man. Muah…I will miss you to much , already baby…
Being the worshiper instead of the worshiped is not what I thought it would be. Can’t it go both ways. All that insecurity wore me out. Worshiping and being worshiped at the same time would be great. I’m way to insecure to worship without being worshiped back to carry the concept all the way through. The whole yes…no…yes…no, thang… fuck I’m still tired, and confused… and sore, my fucking brain hurts! People around us are all wore out from watching the constant wrestling match. No one wants to hear his name anymore… we wore our audience out….sure it was fun for awhile, but I think they figured we would finally get it together… not just stop in the middle and say… uh , well … see ya, maybe… later… I guess…
…….I’m with you people...it seems now, like a terrible waste of my time.
Into the rabbit hole I fall again. Accept this time I have a net. I have spent the last ten years unraveling the insanity that was placed on me or injected into me by my mother. That is to say, which is my neurosis…is that mine or is it hers. Stronger and stronger I build my armor to withstand the truth I used to keep as a sword ,but now I use it as a whispered answer to the questions that encircles my mind when I am busy trying to live my life. Love the person ,but hate the disease …right? Someone taught me that. Muah, Gordan… I hope one day you will know how innately brilliant you are. Unraveling my short term past to uncover the reasons to my unparalleled experience to dream. I run headlong into the past that has been captured by those that think they can match my behavior to a word…a phrase...a diagnosis.
I debated a student of therapy today.
Ok, well… I debated her for two days.
Tradition states that this person came in and described these thoughts for thirty minutes so she must have this sticker placed on her chart. The diagnosis says that she will exhibit these symptoms. The therapist starts looking for the symptoms. Weather or not they are valid… she will seek them out, because it fits nicely inside her little hand held DSM.
The student and I sat across from one another sizing each other up. Each with our own veiled thoughts and scripted niceties that surrounded us as we first froze our own thought provoked words and painstakingly hurled them at one another. She believed that crazy is just plain old crazy…something to be dealt with and then discarded. I was profoundly afraid she would miss the true beauty inside the mania. She dismissed me as incomplete. I laughed at her attempt to be the hero.
I was a patient that she could not readily dismiss as crazy, because somehow…someway… I had become an equal… a part of the mental heath team. No longer could the good doctor stick some pills down my throat and tell me to stop dreaming. Ahem I was going to be listened to… What a fucking concept! The patient would be heard. Suddenly I found myself standing over the metaphoric couch they had made me lay down on for years. No longer in constraints I took concentrated breaths and silently watched the student try to dismiss the notion that real people had the right to their own recovery.
On this day… this day of orientation I sat at a table in a room I had known all to well. I had visited this room, this building, this place when I was deep inside my own personal disorientation. One by one the doctors that had treated me at various times in my delirium found their way to the table that I sat, and tried to avert their eyes as mine bore into theirs. When by chance they had to meet my gaze I could feel the fear and uncertainty they tried to hide from the snarling beast that sat in front of them. Was it their guilt at the past concept of re shaping the mind of the delirious? Did they wear their own trauma at their own ineptness? I effortlessly read the feelings they tried to hide from me or cover up in front of me.
In spite of their best efforts I had become me.
I had become me…without their medicine…without their words of utter emptiness thrown on me… without blame…without shame…without sneering contempt…
Just me.
I’m fine…I’m fine…I’m fine…right , friends.
I sat across from a man today.
I sat across from a man today on equal footing.
Well, kind of equal… as the great thinkers of today’s new metal health arena, they were now selling the paramount greatness of the magnificent concept of recovering crazies teaching other crazies how to survive in this fucked up world. It’s ok to laugh here at this point. Cuz it’s the funniest thing I have ever heard.
Condemnation aside for the moment. Reality will parade through the gaze of stupidity if your very, very patient.
So if I had remembered…today, I would have shown this man the scars I wear on my wrists. I forget that they are there. It was such a long time ago. I should have shown him my scars. He was there the day I was brought into the hospital. He was there as they uncovered my self inflicted wounds. He was there as I overheard his conversation on the telephone. He spoke not to me, as I was just the patient, he spoke to some voice on the other side of the telephone. He said my wounds were superficial. He dismissed my pain. In one sentence. In one word…superficial. The vast great intensity that I had felt as I cut my very own flesh to watch it bleed… to bleed the pain out of my soul.. To get rid of the pain in the only real way I knew how to do it as a eleven year old girl…he said to the no face voice on the phone, that it was a superficial wound. He dismissed my overwhelming pain in one word. Superficial.
Superficial…yet the scars remain. Some thirty years later the scars are still there. I didn’t die. Maybe he had a dinner later that evening. Maybe he was tired… maybe he had to rest for an up-coming training on adolescent suicide. I don’t know, maybe he was about to get dirty and the other voice was his wife telling him to hurry up. Ordinary, sane people getting freaky always makes me laugh and shudder at the same time. Utter silence as they proceed with caution. Afraid to let themselves go to become… oh never mind.
I got to wrap this up… for today anyway.
Life is so amusing to me.
The strangest part of today was that I was not angry…or in pain… or apathetic. I just passionately wanted to look him in the eyes. He had never looked me in the eyes in the hospital…or in his office later as he told me that, “didn’t I think I just wanted some attention, and that I had merely cut myself to get some attention?” I was a child so I agreed with him. He had all the power, and I had not one fucking clue as to why I had done it except that I hurt and I couldn’t feel that level of pain any more. It was to much to feel that intensely. Projected thoughts to bridle my intense feelings and harness me to reality…at any cost.
So, I left his office and bought my first quarter once of pot. I sold my Barbie dolls and bought a bag. Ahhhh, that was much better than cutting myself. Bandaging the gaping wound of our souls. I had found my Band-Aid.
…….so today, I sat across from a man that now recognizes his own weakness. Maybe I should have played crazy for him…he probably would have slept better tonight, huh? Instead, I played the part of me…as me. We are all keepers of our own souls, right?
That damn normalcy covering up my insanity will be the end of my own transparency…won’t it?
posting all my crap again...
CONFRONTING MYSELF
Confronting my psychosis… I can say it and know it and love it…I wish everyone were as loving as I myself am to my abnormality.
Living with crazy my whole life has been a rollercoaster of normal to insane to normal to insane… and not just my own madness either.
Delusions are tangible if you create your own personal world and stay inside your mania, but there is real danger inside that thought. Breaking out of your own self prescribed delirium can give you perspective and normalcy, and so you must strive to embrace everyday reality to come back to yourself to look back on your thoughts and see them for what they are…crazy.
Crazy is fun….
I love projecting my thoughts to others until they believe that I believe them, completely and totally…then I say psht wtf…Did you believe my madness….igtg now and be real uh over here…k! But thanks for the feedback…I’m gonna come over here and write my thoughts in the form of a story and YOU my friend may be my main character.
Manic behavior can be so exhausting. I think knowing I am right in the middle of my own mania is pristine and overpowering. Or I could be completely fucking wrong.
Crazy thoughts…
Crazy patterns…
Living inside the mania that lives inside my head…
I’m ok…
I’m ok….
I’m ok…
Crazy …. psychiatric disorder….
Analytically I could talk about the nature of the tender mind of the insane… but where would the laughter be then?
Systematically I could diagnose those closest to me… but why uncover the madness if you don’t have to?
My ability to discover other peoples’ neurosis at every turn will only lead you to think I am artificially intelligent when I in truth I have been in traditional therapy so many times… I can recite the definitions to my own personal labels as easily as I change my appearances to fit the box they try to keep me in as I frantically write my thoughts down so that I can remember to have my dreams.
Intrigued yet???
I’m a fucking trip, right?
My beautiful mind erupts upon itself only every now and then now… Its easier to conceal the damage now that I understand my own insanity.
Please don’t misunderstand me and my reason for writing to you my inner most thoughts. I love being who I am…I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want to be ordinary. I would never pretend normalcy for the sake of appearing normal. The conundrum for me is … are you normal because you only have normal thoughts or ahem do you just keep your thoughts to yourself…because they are crazy… yah I don’t know…
I only really know that I embrace my mania, my deep thoughts….my insanity…but I maintain the ability to turn my thoughts onto your normal life and laugh my ass off at your uptight neurotic ways of doing things.
I met my first really sane person the other day. He probably doesn’t know he is sane. How could he, he was a beautiful , luscious plant in a field of dried up weeds…and all the weeds were telling him that he is a weed. Sure he doesn’t feel like a weed, he looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a weed, yet everyone around him tells him that he is a weed like them….he was no fucking weed!
He was a strong rock in the middle of my insane life that just keeps regurgitating itself up on me. When I got all wrapped up in my crazy he would look at me and say , “Mary, that’s crazy…. Where do you want to eat?” ahhhhhhh……… completely no judgment…just a mere observation…. I love him…. He just named my mania…and loved me anyway….sort of dismissing my insanity, as a consequence not focusing on it…and loving me anyway….
Until him, I had never met a normal person that I could stomach to be with and desire to be with… Maybe I was just so sick of the weeds that seems to continually surround me… he was like a deep intake of air that I needed to survive in the middle of the ocean I dream in. What will I ever do without him? Where will that next intake of air come from?
I guess I will journey on, although this time it will be more difficult. He never fit into any of my usual cast of characters. All that normalcy without the sardonic twist of superiority. Did I say he was sane? As in no neurosis, well none to striking as to point them out. Clever, clever man. Muah…I will miss you to much , already baby…
Being the worshiper instead of the worshiped is not what I thought it would be. Can’t it go both ways. All that insecurity wore me out. Worshiping and being worshiped at the same time would be great. I’m way to insecure to worship without being worshiped back to carry the concept all the way through. The whole yes…no…yes…no, thang… fuck I’m still tired, and confused… and sore, my fucking brain hurts! People around us are all wore out from watching the constant wrestling match. No one wants to hear his name anymore… we wore our audience out….sure it was fun for awhile, but I think they figured we would finally get it together… not just stop in the middle and say… uh , well … see ya, maybe… later… I guess…
…….I’m with you people...it seems now, like a terrible waste of my time.
Into the rabbit hole I fall again. Accept this time I have a net. I have spent the last ten years unraveling the insanity that was placed on me or injected into me by my mother. That is to say, which is my neurosis…is that mine or is it hers. Stronger and stronger I build my armor to withstand the truth I used to keep as a sword ,but now I use it as a whispered answer to the questions that encircles my mind when I am busy trying to live my life. Love the person ,but hate the disease …right? Someone taught me that. Muah, Gordan… I hope one day you will know how innately brilliant you are. Unraveling my short term past to uncover the reasons to my unparalleled experience to dream. I run headlong into the past that has been captured by those that think they can match my behavior to a word…a phrase...a diagnosis.
I debated a student of therapy today.
Ok, well… I debated her for two days.
Tradition states that this person came in and described these thoughts for thirty minutes so she must have this sticker placed on her chart. The diagnosis says that she will exhibit these symptoms. The therapist starts looking for the symptoms. Weather or not they are valid… she will seek them out, because it fits nicely inside her little hand held DSM.
The student and I sat across from one another sizing each other up. Each with our own veiled thoughts and scripted niceties that surrounded us as we first froze our own thought provoked words and painstakingly hurled them at one another. She believed that crazy is just plain old crazy…something to be dealt with and then discarded. I was profoundly afraid she would miss the true beauty inside the mania. She dismissed me as incomplete. I laughed at her attempt to be the hero.
I was a patient that she could not readily dismiss as crazy, because somehow…someway… I had become an equal… a part of the mental heath team. No longer could the good doctor stick some pills down my throat and tell me to stop dreaming. Ahem I was going to be listened to… What a fucking concept! The patient would be heard. Suddenly I found myself standing over the metaphoric couch they had made me lay down on for years. No longer in constraints I took concentrated breaths and silently watched the student try to dismiss the notion that real people had the right to their own recovery.
On this day… this day of orientation I sat at a table in a room I had known all to well. I had visited this room, this building, this place when I was deep inside my own personal disorientation. One by one the doctors that had treated me at various times in my delirium found their way to the table that I sat, and tried to avert their eyes as mine bore into theirs. When by chance they had to meet my gaze I could feel the fear and uncertainty they tried to hide from the snarling beast that sat in front of them. Was it their guilt at the past concept of re shaping the mind of the delirious? Did they wear their own trauma at their own ineptness? I effortlessly read the feelings they tried to hide from me or cover up in front of me.
In spite of their best efforts I had become me.
I had become me…without their medicine…without their words of utter emptiness thrown on me… without blame…without shame…without sneering contempt…
Just me.
I’m fine…I’m fine…I’m fine…right , friends.
I sat across from a man today.
I sat across from a man today on equal footing.
Well, kind of equal… as the great thinkers of today’s new metal health arena, they were now selling the paramount greatness of the magnificent concept of recovering crazies teaching other crazies how to survive in this fucked up world. It’s ok to laugh here at this point. Cuz it’s the funniest thing I have ever heard.
Condemnation aside for the moment. Reality will parade through the gaze of stupidity if your very, very patient.
So if I had remembered…today, I would have shown this man the scars I wear on my wrists. I forget that they are there. It was such a long time ago. I should have shown him my scars. He was there the day I was brought into the hospital. He was there as they uncovered my self inflicted wounds. He was there as I overheard his conversation on the telephone. He spoke not to me, as I was just the patient, he spoke to some voice on the other side of the telephone. He said my wounds were superficial. He dismissed my pain. In one sentence. In one word…superficial. The vast great intensity that I had felt as I cut my very own flesh to watch it bleed… to bleed the pain out of my soul.. To get rid of the pain in the only real way I knew how to do it as a eleven year old girl…he said to the no face voice on the phone, that it was a superficial wound. He dismissed my overwhelming pain in one word. Superficial.
Superficial…yet the scars remain. Some thirty years later the scars are still there. I didn’t die. Maybe he had a dinner later that evening. Maybe he was tired… maybe he had to rest for an up-coming training on adolescent suicide. I don’t know, maybe he was about to get dirty and the other voice was his wife telling him to hurry up. Ordinary, sane people getting freaky always makes me laugh and shudder at the same time. Utter silence as they proceed with caution. Afraid to let themselves go to become… oh never mind.
I got to wrap this up… for today anyway.
Life is so amusing to me.
The strangest part of today was that I was not angry…or in pain… or apathetic. I just passionately wanted to look him in the eyes. He had never looked me in the eyes in the hospital…or in his office later as he told me that, “didn’t I think I just wanted some attention, and that I had merely cut myself to get some attention?” I was a child so I agreed with him. He had all the power, and I had not one fucking clue as to why I had done it except that I hurt and I couldn’t feel that level of pain any more. It was to much to feel that intensely. Projected thoughts to bridle my intense feelings and harness me to reality…at any cost.
So, I left his office and bought my first quarter once of pot. I sold my Barbie dolls and bought a bag. Ahhhh, that was much better than cutting myself. Bandaging the gaping wound of our souls. I had found my Band-Aid.
…….so today, I sat across from a man that now recognizes his own weakness. Maybe I should have played crazy for him…he probably would have slept better tonight, huh? Instead, I played the part of me…as me. We are all keepers of our own souls, right?
That damn normalcy covering up my insanity will be the end of my own transparency…won’t it?
not sure if I posted this yet.
Undoing the nothing I have become…..
You can’t un-due what has been done…
You can’t take back what has been encapsulated into time.
Parading thorough time as if time itself mattered is like gasping for the color of rapture so it can release you from it’s grip… they can’t know, they can’t know…they can’t know…
You live inside a secret…
You participate in the performance that makes you focus on your surroundings while always understanding that it is a matter of the nothing to the very outcome of who you were sent to become.
Audacious living inside speckled clarity …
Reflective nuances have their way with you as you try to pull the nonsense from your very soul…
Ribbons of secular responses invade the carnal revelation of the make believe you exist in.
Nothing inspired…nothing gained…nothing transcending…nothing …nothing…nothing….
The matter at hand becomes the weapon toward beat the sound of the heartbeat you feel rather then hear.
The laughter is silenced as you incorporate the needs to satisfy the ache.
Your heart hears what your mind is screaming…
Trying to become mundane is the exact opposite to trying to become impressive.
Neither fit exactly right…
Becoming who you are…
Nothingness beckons you as you pull the skin from your face while your soul screams for the release….
….your not sure if your nothingness will ravish you or love you.
Undoing the nothing I have become…..
You can’t un-due what has been done…
You can’t take back what has been encapsulated into time.
Parading thorough time as if time itself mattered is like gasping for the color of rapture so it can release you from it’s grip… they can’t know, they can’t know…they can’t know…
You live inside a secret…
You participate in the performance that makes you focus on your surroundings while always understanding that it is a matter of the nothing to the very outcome of who you were sent to become.
Audacious living inside speckled clarity …
Reflective nuances have their way with you as you try to pull the nonsense from your very soul…
Ribbons of secular responses invade the carnal revelation of the make believe you exist in.
Nothing inspired…nothing gained…nothing transcending…nothing …nothing…nothing….
The matter at hand becomes the weapon toward beat the sound of the heartbeat you feel rather then hear.
The laughter is silenced as you incorporate the needs to satisfy the ache.
Your heart hears what your mind is screaming…
Trying to become mundane is the exact opposite to trying to become impressive.
Neither fit exactly right…
Becoming who you are…
Nothingness beckons you as you pull the skin from your face while your soul screams for the release….
….your not sure if your nothingness will ravish you or love you.
I fear
I fear there's nothing inside...
standing agaist the dark purple night sky I reach out to something I cant touch…
Something I cant imagine...
where do I go…
Where did I go…
Im stuck inbetween where I was …and who I might be.
I am frozen in fear to make a move towards something I cant feel, yet I cant go back to where I came undone.
unraveling the truth to the nature of my personal beast I cringe in trepadation.
The cool wind falls over my shaking body as I try to peer into the window of who I am to be…
I feel the eyes of truth boring into my spirit as I try to cover my nakedness…
ashamed I try to make my nature unknown to the eyes around me…
helplessly I tremble inside my own demise as I cling to the empty covering of my past.
I shreik into the darkness that threatens to envelope me…
I cant get my lips to move…
the sound trys to erupt from my soul as I tear at my throat…
save me…save me…save me…
glamour falls to the bleeding earth as I stumble to more solid ground…
rumblings from an uncertain place makes my lips quiver with my truth…
I tear at the beauty that cascades from my bleeding soul as I try to find the me I once was…
I fear there's nothing inside...
standing agaist the dark purple night sky I reach out to something I cant touch…
Something I cant imagine...
where do I go…
Where did I go…
Im stuck inbetween where I was …and who I might be.
I am frozen in fear to make a move towards something I cant feel, yet I cant go back to where I came undone.
unraveling the truth to the nature of my personal beast I cringe in trepadation.
The cool wind falls over my shaking body as I try to peer into the window of who I am to be…
I feel the eyes of truth boring into my spirit as I try to cover my nakedness…
ashamed I try to make my nature unknown to the eyes around me…
helplessly I tremble inside my own demise as I cling to the empty covering of my past.
I shreik into the darkness that threatens to envelope me…
I cant get my lips to move…
the sound trys to erupt from my soul as I tear at my throat…
save me…save me…save me…
glamour falls to the bleeding earth as I stumble to more solid ground…
rumblings from an uncertain place makes my lips quiver with my truth…
I tear at the beauty that cascades from my bleeding soul as I try to find the me I once was…
and another
living inside the tapestry that I alone created I feel ashamed.
existing on the outside of the world around me leaves me cold and unresponsive…
Finding my hoarse voice that once screamed prolifically at the mundane around me…
they look at me but they don’t see me…
pain is truth…pain is real…It makes me feel real in a world that has no control over me…
Pain without love is a broken sentence that should never have been spoken…
Words fall from my fingertips as my mind races to scream the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me…
rapture is a place I lost as I searched for…
what the fuck was I looking for?????
reality is a perception that only exists for the mundane…I cant live inside that reality…
It sufficates my laboring breaths as I beseech the night to release me from the cacoon of hate I wrapped myself in….
…I am nothing if not real inside the hate that trys to drown my voice from your ears.
Feeling the waves of color that surrounds your lips as they speak to me …
I fall into the colors as I rip my clothes from my quivering form…
My eyes…my eyes…my eyes try to tell you a story that my lips cannot declare…
shhhhhh, wait for the next wave of color…it will burst through the night like a wave from the ocean…crashing into the beach without remorse, without direction.
living inside the tapestry that I alone created I feel ashamed.
existing on the outside of the world around me leaves me cold and unresponsive…
Finding my hoarse voice that once screamed prolifically at the mundane around me…
they look at me but they don’t see me…
pain is truth…pain is real…It makes me feel real in a world that has no control over me…
Pain without love is a broken sentence that should never have been spoken…
Words fall from my fingertips as my mind races to scream the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me…
rapture is a place I lost as I searched for…
what the fuck was I looking for?????
reality is a perception that only exists for the mundane…I cant live inside that reality…
It sufficates my laboring breaths as I beseech the night to release me from the cacoon of hate I wrapped myself in….
…I am nothing if not real inside the hate that trys to drown my voice from your ears.
Feeling the waves of color that surrounds your lips as they speak to me …
I fall into the colors as I rip my clothes from my quivering form…
My eyes…my eyes…my eyes try to tell you a story that my lips cannot declare…
shhhhhh, wait for the next wave of color…it will burst through the night like a wave from the ocean…crashing into the beach without remorse, without direction.
...and another
thoughts are floating around me as I scramble to make them sit still long enough for me to put on this screen…
giggling nonsense becomes solid as I strike the keys with my gentle strokings…
ahhhh, rapturous gluttany reminds me that I like to breath…
I pull the confines of my mind from the visegrip of normalcy…
fuck normalcy…
boring….mundane…un-glittering…ugly…
I feel the butterfly kisses of something I cant see but I can clearly feel… it gently touches my face on either side…I feel the satisfaction in the touch…I look into the eyes of a thought that has no form….
I raise my arms over my head as I feel the glitering speckles dance from my loose grip… I feel my soul laugh as I dance to the sound that lives in my head…
thoughts are floating around me as I scramble to make them sit still long enough for me to put on this screen…
giggling nonsense becomes solid as I strike the keys with my gentle strokings…
ahhhh, rapturous gluttany reminds me that I like to breath…
I pull the confines of my mind from the visegrip of normalcy…
fuck normalcy…
boring….mundane…un-glittering…ugly…
I feel the butterfly kisses of something I cant see but I can clearly feel… it gently touches my face on either side…I feel the satisfaction in the touch…I look into the eyes of a thought that has no form….
I raise my arms over my head as I feel the glitering speckles dance from my loose grip… I feel my soul laugh as I dance to the sound that lives in my head…
ahhhh
rapture of tomarrow
Lounging inside the reality of yesterday I wait for my heartbeat to slow to the renasence of my breathing.
Tricking my mind to turn from empty to endless, I swallow my fear as I transcend the valley that keeps me from you.
laughing at the slithering voices that try to take my sovereignty… I scale the wall with bleeding fingertips to reach the place I had left off.
….never gone from your mind I blindly turn to find you once again.
I relinquish my own strength to find an endless supply, as my soul fills itself from the abyss that surrounds my spirit.
I mock the sounds that threaten to deceive me again.
continuing the work as I feel less of you is my cross I bear…I did it anyway…anyway…anyway…
broken,empty,powerless,weak,vapid,sinister,wicked…
I punched the walls around me as I felt my spirit soar to you…
flying into the face of love I lose my fear a level at a time as I fly higher and higher…
nothingness is a badge I strike those around me to keep…
blissfull nothingness dresses me in rapture.
Lounging inside the reality of yesterday I wait for my heartbeat to slow to the renasence of my breathing.
Tricking my mind to turn from empty to endless, I swallow my fear as I transcend the valley that keeps me from you.
laughing at the slithering voices that try to take my sovereignty… I scale the wall with bleeding fingertips to reach the place I had left off.
….never gone from your mind I blindly turn to find you once again.
I relinquish my own strength to find an endless supply, as my soul fills itself from the abyss that surrounds my spirit.
I mock the sounds that threaten to deceive me again.
continuing the work as I feel less of you is my cross I bear…I did it anyway…anyway…anyway…
broken,empty,powerless,weak,vapid,sinister,wicked…
I punched the walls around me as I felt my spirit soar to you…
flying into the face of love I lose my fear a level at a time as I fly higher and higher…
nothingness is a badge I strike those around me to keep…
blissfull nothingness dresses me in rapture.
nice!
mmmmmm
weightless whispers like carresses gingerly fall on my face…
I tear the bleeding façade from the mirror as I look deeper to see the beauty He has created.
tangerine giggles respond to the darkness with feirce solidarity.
relinquishing the day to fantastical knowledge …I breathlessly scan the rapturous words as my spirit quakes within my form.
my soul drinks in the knowledge so my spirit can travel to Him again…
He left the rest to find the one He could no longer feel…
worthiness pores from my image as I try to hide from the sadness.
glittering grace falls gently to my spirit as I become one again…spirit,soul and body.
scattered pieces are not allowed in the secret place…
Truth and love reassemble the jagged edges.
the improbable yet magestic pieces melt into astonishing beauty as I sleep through the tremors of hate.
Gasping His name as I sleep…unaware of the struggle…I cannot forget His name…power…power…power…
The battle rages around me as release my spirit to the high ground,as I am pummeled with hate and fear.
fragmented pieces of me are serene as the battle rages around me.
my spirit is hidden from me …as the battle rages…
love,love,love,love
words whispered over my from as I become one again….
a time such as this…the battle was won to continue the war…
bleeding, I pick up my armour to stand on legs ,now stronger and more sure…hidden for such a time as this…
my love never wavered…love bleeds into my spirit as I slept fitfully to awaken to the battle field I had been hidden from.
I stand strong and powerful….doubt and fear falls from my from like ribbons in the night wind.
fierce bravery becomes a wounded battle cry as I pick up my sword.
no longer blind to the pain, and hate I no longer tremble with apprehension as I regain the footsteps I looked at through the window of disbelief.
The third trumpet has sounded
weightless whispers like carresses gingerly fall on my face…
I tear the bleeding façade from the mirror as I look deeper to see the beauty He has created.
tangerine giggles respond to the darkness with feirce solidarity.
relinquishing the day to fantastical knowledge …I breathlessly scan the rapturous words as my spirit quakes within my form.
my soul drinks in the knowledge so my spirit can travel to Him again…
He left the rest to find the one He could no longer feel…
worthiness pores from my image as I try to hide from the sadness.
glittering grace falls gently to my spirit as I become one again…spirit,soul and body.
scattered pieces are not allowed in the secret place…
Truth and love reassemble the jagged edges.
the improbable yet magestic pieces melt into astonishing beauty as I sleep through the tremors of hate.
Gasping His name as I sleep…unaware of the struggle…I cannot forget His name…power…power…power…
The battle rages around me as release my spirit to the high ground,as I am pummeled with hate and fear.
fragmented pieces of me are serene as the battle rages around me.
my spirit is hidden from me …as the battle rages…
love,love,love,love
words whispered over my from as I become one again….
a time such as this…the battle was won to continue the war…
bleeding, I pick up my armour to stand on legs ,now stronger and more sure…hidden for such a time as this…
my love never wavered…love bleeds into my spirit as I slept fitfully to awaken to the battle field I had been hidden from.
I stand strong and powerful….doubt and fear falls from my from like ribbons in the night wind.
fierce bravery becomes a wounded battle cry as I pick up my sword.
no longer blind to the pain, and hate I no longer tremble with apprehension as I regain the footsteps I looked at through the window of disbelief.
The third trumpet has sounded
oh! I really like this one! not sure i understand it all yet,but...
ahhh, feels like home!
Glistening rapture illuminates the truth.
recognition of love..is un-earthreal.
tapping the thin veneer of the outer world is precarious .
danger waits for you if you do not draw your sword first.
battle fields are littered with the twisted minds of the captured.
reluctence is disobedience all dressed up.
bane attempts to overcome in invalid tempatures will overwhelm those that do not have their own weapons.
trinity is relevant to this world and others.
Father,Son and Spirit…
Body,soul and spirit…
unlimited reprecussion is culminated to this moment as I breath.
Laughter unbrideled is the circumference to the hidden.
Beauty is grace.
Grace is truth.
Grace is a sheild,Truth is a weapon.
fear is wasted,and bleeding…powerless.
Glistening rapture illuminates the truth.
recognition of love..is un-earthreal.
tapping the thin veneer of the outer world is precarious .
danger waits for you if you do not draw your sword first.
battle fields are littered with the twisted minds of the captured.
reluctence is disobedience all dressed up.
bane attempts to overcome in invalid tempatures will overwhelm those that do not have their own weapons.
trinity is relevant to this world and others.
Father,Son and Spirit…
Body,soul and spirit…
unlimited reprecussion is culminated to this moment as I breath.
Laughter unbrideled is the circumference to the hidden.
Beauty is grace.
Grace is truth.
Grace is a sheild,Truth is a weapon.
fear is wasted,and bleeding…powerless.
almost didnt post this one...seems menial,but...has some good lines.
negotiating with freedom...
Holy Spirit…
I was created to encourage the voice of The Holy Spirit.
After church one day I asked my 13 year old daughter, ‘who is the Holy spirit?’
She looked at me for ten seconds before she answered. “The Holy Spirit is the voice of God.”
I Smiled at her. ‘The Voice of God. How do you mean.’
“God is God…the almighty who created the heavens and earth. Jesus is Gods son. He is kinda like Gods personality. Like when Jesus was here on earth, he did and said what God would say because He is God.
“But who is the Holy Spirit?”
“Jesus is God on earth, then Jesus had to leave so The Holy Spirit could come…The Holy Spirit is like Gods voice in your head…He tells you things.”
I smiled at her , “ I love you Lyric.”
…”But what if something bad happens to you?…where was The Holy Spirit?”
Her brow wrinkled, “The Holy Spirit is invisible. But he talks…inside your mind…He tells you that your still o.k….that He still loves you and whatever happened to you only happened in this world, but not in heaven… like your spirit is still o.k.”
Sometimes I get kinda lost in the world. Sometimes all the nastiness that people do to each other confuses me and makes me so sad that I can’t think correctly. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the stuff that is around me at all times. Beyond myself is Him…but what does that mean? sometimes I cant breath. Then a cool breeze inside my mind circumvents my madness. I am to encourage the Holy Spirit in someone’s life…I may not understand(I usually don’t) but my job is not to discern or comprehend….my job is to open my mouth and let peace and unconditional love pour from my trembling lips as I look into the eyes of a silent, angry person(who wants nothing more then to rip my face off, because I am not angry or hateful as they try to challenge me to push them back so they can just…react and not have to take responsibility for their actions.) dang counseling lingo just seeps in…sorry.
To understand the angry eruptions…you have to look past the actions of the hateful. How can I teach to not be violent if I am violent. Speaking softly to ‘go in peace’ is hard to do when your heart is beating and your fingers curl into fists automatically. Taking a millisecond to take a breath and see the hatefully spitting person as a small child will take your anger away in a second though. Tearing down walls with benign hands is precarious at best. To feel the painful, tragic, loss underneath the barrage of hate spewed at you is the moment to find the place to whisper ‘go in peace’ instead of doing the natural, normal thing that you really want to do.
Holy Spirit…
I was created to encourage the voice of The Holy Spirit.
After church one day I asked my 13 year old daughter, ‘who is the Holy spirit?’
She looked at me for ten seconds before she answered. “The Holy Spirit is the voice of God.”
I Smiled at her. ‘The Voice of God. How do you mean.’
“God is God…the almighty who created the heavens and earth. Jesus is Gods son. He is kinda like Gods personality. Like when Jesus was here on earth, he did and said what God would say because He is God.
“But who is the Holy Spirit?”
“Jesus is God on earth, then Jesus had to leave so The Holy Spirit could come…The Holy Spirit is like Gods voice in your head…He tells you things.”
I smiled at her , “ I love you Lyric.”
…”But what if something bad happens to you?…where was The Holy Spirit?”
Her brow wrinkled, “The Holy Spirit is invisible. But he talks…inside your mind…He tells you that your still o.k….that He still loves you and whatever happened to you only happened in this world, but not in heaven… like your spirit is still o.k.”
Sometimes I get kinda lost in the world. Sometimes all the nastiness that people do to each other confuses me and makes me so sad that I can’t think correctly. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the stuff that is around me at all times. Beyond myself is Him…but what does that mean? sometimes I cant breath. Then a cool breeze inside my mind circumvents my madness. I am to encourage the Holy Spirit in someone’s life…I may not understand(I usually don’t) but my job is not to discern or comprehend….my job is to open my mouth and let peace and unconditional love pour from my trembling lips as I look into the eyes of a silent, angry person(who wants nothing more then to rip my face off, because I am not angry or hateful as they try to challenge me to push them back so they can just…react and not have to take responsibility for their actions.) dang counseling lingo just seeps in…sorry.
To understand the angry eruptions…you have to look past the actions of the hateful. How can I teach to not be violent if I am violent. Speaking softly to ‘go in peace’ is hard to do when your heart is beating and your fingers curl into fists automatically. Taking a millisecond to take a breath and see the hatefully spitting person as a small child will take your anger away in a second though. Tearing down walls with benign hands is precarious at best. To feel the painful, tragic, loss underneath the barrage of hate spewed at you is the moment to find the place to whisper ‘go in peace’ instead of doing the natural, normal thing that you really want to do.
hmm, this still makes me sad, for sadness sake.
truth and why...why and truth
I remember thinking the justice system was about justice. Such an innocent time in my life. I thought right was right and wrong was wrong. I thought truth mattered. Yes I did…I thought truth mattered.
Traveling the criminal court system is a abrupt lesson in human nature that I have found un-matched in any other forum.
Righteousness
Truth
Justice
Liberty
These are words that are thrown about in the general population that makes anyone in any aspect of the justice system laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
These same words only have credence if they are given any power…and uh, words have no power there…only money.
Truth is accosted and ridiculed.
Righteousness is smirked at; even in the best circumstances.
Justice is a word that is used to twist the validity from lies.
Liberty, well liberty is a sanctimonious thought given to any individual who can purchase it.
Those that know watch and listen to the blind faithful try to convince us that truth will prevail. I was once one of the blind. I flailed violently at those around me as I read their sad eyes when they looked at me. They didn’t laugh at my nativity…instead they were saddened by the knowledge that justice ceased to mean anything to anyone anymore. Not in the sense that the general population viewed it anyway.
Sitting with a tough, brilliant, prosecutor I listened as she told me , why she became a prosecutor. I swear I could hear the national anthem playing in the background. True to her prolific storytelling nature she spun a beautiful, elaborate, tear provoking speech about truth and justice. Suddenly she leaned in close to my tear stained face. “Fuck if I know why I do it! It’s all bullshit, Mary. Every part of it.”
There is to much pain.
Sometimes it’s to hard .
Sometimes all you have is tiny little pieces of justice.
Forget truth. That valiant word was extinguished when it became a money game and that was so long ago….
Bye bye miss American pie…
So the question remains why do we fight?
Darkness is substance and truth is light…
Its so easy, almost purposeful, to become overcome by the gooey substance of hate. Darkness is a substance…God is light… substance extinguishes light.
…………. I learned something the other day though…faith is a substance too!
Still, the question remains…Why?
Under insurmountable odds.
Through the filth.
Despite hate.
In opposition of the lies.
Why?
I must live for love.
I must believe that.
Love is NOT a noun…love is an action word.
I will look directly into the eyes of pain… I will offer my hand… I will believe…I will show the way to the other side of hate…I will offer light through the darkened substance of evil.
The truth is…the real battle is never fought in a court of law…for we do not fight against flesh and bone.
I remember thinking the justice system was about justice. Such an innocent time in my life. I thought right was right and wrong was wrong. I thought truth mattered. Yes I did…I thought truth mattered.
Traveling the criminal court system is a abrupt lesson in human nature that I have found un-matched in any other forum.
Righteousness
Truth
Justice
Liberty
These are words that are thrown about in the general population that makes anyone in any aspect of the justice system laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
These same words only have credence if they are given any power…and uh, words have no power there…only money.
Truth is accosted and ridiculed.
Righteousness is smirked at; even in the best circumstances.
Justice is a word that is used to twist the validity from lies.
Liberty, well liberty is a sanctimonious thought given to any individual who can purchase it.
Those that know watch and listen to the blind faithful try to convince us that truth will prevail. I was once one of the blind. I flailed violently at those around me as I read their sad eyes when they looked at me. They didn’t laugh at my nativity…instead they were saddened by the knowledge that justice ceased to mean anything to anyone anymore. Not in the sense that the general population viewed it anyway.
Sitting with a tough, brilliant, prosecutor I listened as she told me , why she became a prosecutor. I swear I could hear the national anthem playing in the background. True to her prolific storytelling nature she spun a beautiful, elaborate, tear provoking speech about truth and justice. Suddenly she leaned in close to my tear stained face. “Fuck if I know why I do it! It’s all bullshit, Mary. Every part of it.”
There is to much pain.
Sometimes it’s to hard .
Sometimes all you have is tiny little pieces of justice.
Forget truth. That valiant word was extinguished when it became a money game and that was so long ago….
Bye bye miss American pie…
So the question remains why do we fight?
Darkness is substance and truth is light…
Its so easy, almost purposeful, to become overcome by the gooey substance of hate. Darkness is a substance…God is light… substance extinguishes light.
…………. I learned something the other day though…faith is a substance too!
Still, the question remains…Why?
Under insurmountable odds.
Through the filth.
Despite hate.
In opposition of the lies.
Why?
I must live for love.
I must believe that.
Love is NOT a noun…love is an action word.
I will look directly into the eyes of pain… I will offer my hand… I will believe…I will show the way to the other side of hate…I will offer light through the darkened substance of evil.
The truth is…the real battle is never fought in a court of law…for we do not fight against flesh and bone.
mine and my friends truth in our daily work.
befriending truth
Stuck in the hiccup of pain…
Coaxing degradation from innocence…
Unwinding ribbons of hatred…
Recognizing agony casually, while trying to replace responses…
Survival is a tragedy…
Stuck in the hiccup of pain…
Taking the hand of a silhouette that cannot tolerate touch…
Transpiring against lunacy to negotiate with rage…
Living inside raw liquid emotions that must bubble to the surface without abatement…
Relinquishing history is a truce between the shadows that trip through the night…
Stuck in the hiccup of pain…
Coaxing degradation from innocence…
Unwinding ribbons of hatred…
Recognizing agony casually, while trying to replace responses…
Survival is a tragedy…
Stuck in the hiccup of pain…
Taking the hand of a silhouette that cannot tolerate touch…
Transpiring against lunacy to negotiate with rage…
Living inside raw liquid emotions that must bubble to the surface without abatement…
Relinquishing history is a truce between the shadows that trip through the night…
laughing at my past thoughts
no time to dawdle now...
Current mood:fabulous
I cant be perfect but I can be Holy…devoted to the service of God
Abraham was not a perfect man… but he was Holy.
Holy -
Hmmmm, devoted to the service of God…Wow…that is all that means…
I guess religion was wrong …again…
The enemy sure got his crap all tied up in how we are to live our lives…
I bet he laughs and laughs at us all day and night.
I’ve seen my share of weirdness…
I’ve seen people forsake their family in the name of helping the church…the building…the uhahem the cause.
I’ve seen people run themselves ragged trying to be perfect. The perfect example. The perfect mother. The perfect wife. The perfect…
And he laughs and laughs….cuz while you run around trying to be perfect those of us who effing know we are not perfect watch and think ,hmmm well I already know I suck so…why try…
And he laughs and laughs…
I guess that is my secret…and I don’t mind sharing it with whoever wants to hear it…cuz trust me I KNOW who I am… and if you ever think of putting me under a microscope I will merely smirk my way through your word vomit. I know I cannot achieve perfection or anything even close to it…but I can be Holy.
See how we mess everything up.
Holy is not white billowing gowns.
Holy is not serene faces surrounded by filth.
Holy is not living above the masses.
Psht, Holy is merely living for God…in every second of every day… or at least trying to.
I am not perfect…there are lots of things I have to refrain from doing. And some things I do not refrain from doing because, well because in MY life…in MY life…MYMYMYMYMY life those things help me serve God.
Maybe not yours…that’s cool…we all get there how we get there…but make no mistake I WILL BE THERE… so you will have to find a way to collect your word vomit on your way outa my face and find a different cloud to hang on….cuz I serve God…and that my friend makes me Holy.
Current mood:fabulous
I cant be perfect but I can be Holy…devoted to the service of God
Abraham was not a perfect man… but he was Holy.
Holy -
Hmmmm, devoted to the service of God…Wow…that is all that means…
I guess religion was wrong …again…
The enemy sure got his crap all tied up in how we are to live our lives…
I bet he laughs and laughs at us all day and night.
I’ve seen my share of weirdness…
I’ve seen people forsake their family in the name of helping the church…the building…the uhahem the cause.
I’ve seen people run themselves ragged trying to be perfect. The perfect example. The perfect mother. The perfect wife. The perfect…
And he laughs and laughs….cuz while you run around trying to be perfect those of us who effing know we are not perfect watch and think ,hmmm well I already know I suck so…why try…
And he laughs and laughs…
I guess that is my secret…and I don’t mind sharing it with whoever wants to hear it…cuz trust me I KNOW who I am… and if you ever think of putting me under a microscope I will merely smirk my way through your word vomit. I know I cannot achieve perfection or anything even close to it…but I can be Holy.
See how we mess everything up.
Holy is not white billowing gowns.
Holy is not serene faces surrounded by filth.
Holy is not living above the masses.
Psht, Holy is merely living for God…in every second of every day… or at least trying to.
I am not perfect…there are lots of things I have to refrain from doing. And some things I do not refrain from doing because, well because in MY life…in MY life…MYMYMYMYMY life those things help me serve God.
Maybe not yours…that’s cool…we all get there how we get there…but make no mistake I WILL BE THERE… so you will have to find a way to collect your word vomit on your way outa my face and find a different cloud to hang on….cuz I serve God…and that my friend makes me Holy.
ya ...I still like this one too!
visual nothingness...
Perception is the secret.
What I’ve learned living inside my scream…
I’ve learned that friendships matter…
I’ve learned that you don’t know how far you can crawl until your bloody knees get you there…
I’ve learned that not everyone who acts interested in your life is as captivated by the passion you use to live it….
I’ve learned that words freefall sometimes just because the pain is much to unfathomable…
I’ve learned that love really is the answer to every formable question…
I’ve learned that passion is water I wish to drink from everyday…everyday…everyday…
I’ve learned that when you think your being forgotten…someone is ALWAYS watching…
I’ve learned that truth supersedes EVERY lie…
I’ve learned that pain erupts change…
I’ve learned that we are stronger then we have any right to be…
I’ve learned that victim is a state of mind that can and should be controlled then destroyed…
I’ve learned that I can’t hold the hate inside my mind… because what controls my thoughts controls my mind…
I’ve learned that when you feel like your drowning inside your pain, others are growing strong to bring you outside of it…if you let them…
I’ve learned that beauty is NEVER painless…
I’ve learned that when you think no one cares…someone is always willing to lead the ovation in your honor…
So…Thank you to all my friends who watched and waited for us to come outside our pain and find the utter true exquisiteness of living our life beautifully in spite of the darkness that tried to envelope us…
Perception is the secret.
What I’ve learned living inside my scream…
I’ve learned that friendships matter…
I’ve learned that you don’t know how far you can crawl until your bloody knees get you there…
I’ve learned that not everyone who acts interested in your life is as captivated by the passion you use to live it….
I’ve learned that words freefall sometimes just because the pain is much to unfathomable…
I’ve learned that love really is the answer to every formable question…
I’ve learned that passion is water I wish to drink from everyday…everyday…everyday…
I’ve learned that when you think your being forgotten…someone is ALWAYS watching…
I’ve learned that truth supersedes EVERY lie…
I’ve learned that pain erupts change…
I’ve learned that we are stronger then we have any right to be…
I’ve learned that victim is a state of mind that can and should be controlled then destroyed…
I’ve learned that I can’t hold the hate inside my mind… because what controls my thoughts controls my mind…
I’ve learned that when you feel like your drowning inside your pain, others are growing strong to bring you outside of it…if you let them…
I’ve learned that beauty is NEVER painless…
I’ve learned that when you think no one cares…someone is always willing to lead the ovation in your honor…
So…Thank you to all my friends who watched and waited for us to come outside our pain and find the utter true exquisiteness of living our life beautifully in spite of the darkness that tried to envelope us…
and another...
The path is still unclear...
Ahhh, taking a breath when I would rather succumb to the nothingness that I think that I am…
Hearing the sound of the voices that tell me that I have done great and mighty things…
Circumventing the reality that threatened to vanish from my fingertips.
The battle was much easier when I knew what I was fighting for…
Living inside the hiccup of awesome is tiresome and menial.
Climbing higher to illustrate the beauty of magical kisses…all around me…all around me.
Nativity was my shield….now the knowing overtakes my senses as I try to breath my tortured breath outside of my trembling body.
Clarity is the storm of discomfort, as I try to stand on my righteous legs once again…
Blowing kisses to those around me exhausts me when I sleep…
Turning to the masses engulfs my senses…
I row out as He did…
I become myself as I tear the scars from my soul.
Living inside the dream…is not any better then living inside the scream…
Knowing the outcomes frightens me beyond measure…
Words of wonderment scatter as I try to become the moment in an instant.
Ripping the grip of failure from my shaking form overcomes my rasping breath…
I screamed into the night once …don’t you see what I’m doing?
Mimicry is the sound of rebirthing and is now the response to my tears…
Remember…remember…surrounds my hateful stare into nothing…
My scars quickly redouble as I busied myself with me….
Swallowing air as I try to find some fear to provoke me.
Ahhh, taking a breath when I would rather succumb to the nothingness that I think that I am…
Hearing the sound of the voices that tell me that I have done great and mighty things…
Circumventing the reality that threatened to vanish from my fingertips.
The battle was much easier when I knew what I was fighting for…
Living inside the hiccup of awesome is tiresome and menial.
Climbing higher to illustrate the beauty of magical kisses…all around me…all around me.
Nativity was my shield….now the knowing overtakes my senses as I try to breath my tortured breath outside of my trembling body.
Clarity is the storm of discomfort, as I try to stand on my righteous legs once again…
Blowing kisses to those around me exhausts me when I sleep…
Turning to the masses engulfs my senses…
I row out as He did…
I become myself as I tear the scars from my soul.
Living inside the dream…is not any better then living inside the scream…
Knowing the outcomes frightens me beyond measure…
Words of wonderment scatter as I try to become the moment in an instant.
Ripping the grip of failure from my shaking form overcomes my rasping breath…
I screamed into the night once …don’t you see what I’m doing?
Mimicry is the sound of rebirthing and is now the response to my tears…
Remember…remember…surrounds my hateful stare into nothing…
My scars quickly redouble as I busied myself with me….
Swallowing air as I try to find some fear to provoke me.
some older posts from a different blog...
Frantically tracing the confines of my mind…
I lead myself into the erupting darkness from the light I see everywhere.
Resting outside tranquility I resurrect the future from my past.
Echoing resonance is the sing song voice of recognition.
Lilting voices cascade outside the realm of my hiccup of absurdity.
Quieting the rapture of the disease of my mind is comical.
Finding the solitude of yesterday is a remnant of delicacy.
Wrapping my brain in bubble wrap I climb the walls of transparency again…
I lead myself into the erupting darkness from the light I see everywhere.
Resting outside tranquility I resurrect the future from my past.
Echoing resonance is the sing song voice of recognition.
Lilting voices cascade outside the realm of my hiccup of absurdity.
Quieting the rapture of the disease of my mind is comical.
Finding the solitude of yesterday is a remnant of delicacy.
Wrapping my brain in bubble wrap I climb the walls of transparency again…
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
need more aha moments
Remind me today what I knew yesterday…
Rapture the essence of my spirit so I can feel safe again…
Lead me to the waters edge…I’m so thirsty.
Laugh gently into my ear ,so I can remain humbled by your nature and not my own.
Take the fear that whispers my name as I swoon to the mighty structure of who you are.
Read to me the love story you once spoke into existence as I gently wept at your majesty.
Lighten my thoughts as I scan the future for tomorrow…
Ease my trepidation as I long to be more…do more…see more…change more…
Exist inside the window of my mind so I can wander to you when I feel so weak.
Remind me that I am your princess, as I beseech you to rescue me…
Cherish my exuberance as I learn to crawl back to you again and again and again…
Clarify my thoughts so I can dream of the bliss I once shared with you…
Reach into my spirit and remind me of my passion…
Rapture the essence of my spirit so I can feel safe again…
Lead me to the waters edge…I’m so thirsty.
Laugh gently into my ear ,so I can remain humbled by your nature and not my own.
Take the fear that whispers my name as I swoon to the mighty structure of who you are.
Read to me the love story you once spoke into existence as I gently wept at your majesty.
Lighten my thoughts as I scan the future for tomorrow…
Ease my trepidation as I long to be more…do more…see more…change more…
Exist inside the window of my mind so I can wander to you when I feel so weak.
Remind me that I am your princess, as I beseech you to rescue me…
Cherish my exuberance as I learn to crawl back to you again and again and again…
Clarify my thoughts so I can dream of the bliss I once shared with you…
Reach into my spirit and remind me of my passion…
Monday, April 4, 2011
:)
Talking to the sound inside the invisible conversation.
Walking to the beat of the hiccup of laughter.
Blinking to remove the hazy conviction of rapture.
Humming inside the reality of yesterday.
Loving furiously in spite of the consequences.
Love, love, love, love…
Nonsensical sounds tickle my ears as I peer into me.
Swallowing my smile as I choke on the corruption of this world.
Finding the prettiness of pain.
Big gulps of air expand my lungs as I spring toward the destiny I crave.
Feather tip tickles caress my spirit as I lay peaceful inside my mind of utter rest.
Glancing back to never…forever envelopes me as I shudder with delight.
Words cascade around my eyes…
I dreamily wait for them to plant themselves exactly where they long to live.
Happiness shelters my trepidation.
Walking to the beat of the hiccup of laughter.
Blinking to remove the hazy conviction of rapture.
Humming inside the reality of yesterday.
Loving furiously in spite of the consequences.
Love, love, love, love…
Nonsensical sounds tickle my ears as I peer into me.
Swallowing my smile as I choke on the corruption of this world.
Finding the prettiness of pain.
Big gulps of air expand my lungs as I spring toward the destiny I crave.
Feather tip tickles caress my spirit as I lay peaceful inside my mind of utter rest.
Glancing back to never…forever envelopes me as I shudder with delight.
Words cascade around my eyes…
I dreamily wait for them to plant themselves exactly where they long to live.
Happiness shelters my trepidation.
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