Other World
Unraveled again. All foiled plan dissolved in the other world. Their prosperous world I see in dimensions beyond my sex son ate, flexible spending account. A two world eclipse. I see the future, I see the past? And my trap is in right now as a cage. Believe me or not, here I am between you like a cord clamped but not severed. Like a genetic code saved just for a match. But the bipolar match brought fear. Two teams against one another, dark and light...although both fighting for the truth in existence. A genetic match up so perfect to save all humanity...that the demonic system employed all forces to resist this union. It was called to an international level.
Who would have thought in this little town would be the mates that turn everything around? He unlocked her hidden codes that foretold to the future. No one has understood and he fears her, because he knows not his own power. So it's all ABC's and some sort of countdown beginning and repeating since the bible. I've been afraid I have been Bloody Mary for centuries, but I am not, I am Snow White. All that happened was a delusional darkness, a trance over me since age 15.
So for the past 20 years humans have been in a boot camp ages 15 - 35 to find and erase two genomes that breed sickness. Much like Hitler's experiments on people, we have been experimenting with drugs, tattoos and the medical field. Some are sent to school for books, some are sent for looks, and some sent for cents. Common spiritual bonds are placed between one male and one female, so that they will know from birth who the other one is, but it may take a lifetime to fully come together.
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Grand Avenue
While I am writing this story this fake city all around me with its signs and wonders…the stomping grounds of all the crossovers. It is much like a monopoly board the way it goes around each block, and the sights and sounds of little casinos, and play “beaches” “Palagio” meaning palace and I assimilate that to Boardwalk. That’s Grand Avenue. It is summer time and the hoots and hollers of the Dairy Queens and the Burger Kings are so amuck tonight I can feel the exclusion of me here in this haunted house. Watch them knock over in hand signals and true identity nods…and the freshmen reek of Strawberry Fields Forever from the Boones’ Farm they are the realtors for the First Interstate building’s Stud Aunt Low Ann for give Nehus program. Well, it’s nothing but a Monday night a buzzin around here and the diesel trucks just remind me I once knew my soul.
In memories gone I was Eve and he was Adam and we grew a garden. The garden was somewhere Passed Go…real little. We jumped the tracks on Montana Ave, somehow landed at Chef. I mean Cook, but I call it Chef for security purposes. There was always these competitive dreams from my team mate and sock her play her. Like one day sweet stuff, I will not go directly to YCDF or the courthouse, you will see you on Broadway in your nice dress and whistle real loud. And say yeah that’s my girl…she looks like Connecticut and brings the rain like Maine…she knows how to City Brew coffee instead of jive Off the Leaf. She is no Kentucky in Red, but very beautiful in green…she drives the Rolls Dice and I am the dog…the terrier, yup yup. Doghouse for sure.
The Rimrocks is the park place, you know where people go to neck out. Back to the flipping signs. It’s been going on since the beginning of time these signs between males and feemales. You want to play to pray and you got to pay the price. Oh I will know my right sign and my left when the moment comes, and I won’t be awkard or touch my nose…because that is a dead giveaway! You want to roll the dice and land on what? A shack. A fukn shack?
Alright night night!
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Miranda Writes
You see where I went wrong to go right, was with an unforgiving heart. When I made my life about my needs, or what someone could do for me, I became disabled in my own capacity to love and accept others as they were. And there are living ghosts that haunt me along the way.
Some say laughter is the best cure. While others might think it painful to laugh at such a situation. Like learning to count, and being so happy that you have learned! Like saying I really have done my best this time, Like saying I miss you and I mean it. Like it came from miles away...like someone saying I completely understand you!!! AND then in shock, well so do I!
Wanting so badly to rewrite the script but knowing I wasn't the only writer for that scene...I wasn't the only peacemaker, or lover for that matter. Just that I had love in my heart was enough to know it was beating, and real, and there could be consequences for every action. AND an action is just in a moment. Just something real and articulate, and maybe just a symbol, that all hope is not lost. That I could change the ending of any sentence to suit whom I was writing to and why. To believe I have advocates, knowledge, and can simply breathe, well that would be the surefire way to evacuate and extinguish a very fire set ablaze in my own kitchen. Well right!
And trust. AND trust that even if I did not know who I was on my own, or on this side or that side of the fence, that someday there would be a calling...and I may know the answer already, and I may not. I may have to take my time, and settle for less than expected, or more for that matter...or just anything inspiring a true song.
If every nursery rhyme and song repeated to teach me, would I have sung in tune? Probably not. Probably in something like harmony. But it wouldn't have made me the odd one out, except in my own mind...because when I sing along to songs while doing the dishes in my own home, I sound pretty darn good. I don't want to be on a stage though. Just level headed in my own home, where my heart is happy and I find rest.
No one ever told me your voice wasn't beautiful. You had to learn to talk before you could write! And when I forgive myself I can forgive others. AND as deceptive to naivety, before it was a big silly grin. And I never did do so much writing as I did to catch up with myself.
Miles of it.
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Straight Tequilla Nightstand
I was born back wars ya see? On a straight tequila night. My crooked back and lies followed me near where everyone.
I looked out at the skyline and said to my therapist "what's a matter with these peoples’grammars?"
Talks of Tallahassee? Triumphant tube socks once again, lying around my night stand. One time even I was read a fortunate tale he done told me "here put this under your tongue and don't drink until it melts in your mouth. " but that was moons ago. And on the real black nights I didn't even cry.
"A lollipop? Are you for real little boy?" "So How many licks til you see the core then?"
And the "little cutie" done said "Until you know all there is about me, from you standing on your head on the balance beam, scoring points by spitting pumpkin seeds through little imaginary orange hoops, right in the places where the basketball players used to strive to recruit and rectify the last time they saw you was pretty."
And she thought. And she thought, and frickin thought for years, and she never said one word.
But in her head?
"Ya know it could be this work is over? I am mad at you now, you know?"
"I showed you the soul of an angle protracted at preciseLee the right lien gleam of a candlestick, south of arrow, you know more like a fukn weather vein, pointed true north to an Atlas with a Mark in the middle of it, pointed at our real home in Europe!!! Arrggghhh...and then you! YOU YOU YOU! So you steal my deck of cards, take all my aces and then try to play monopoly? On my very own board??? By heavens, you don't even play RISK Right!"
" And you won't pass go? C'mon you have the get out of jail free card, on your damn ship...now use it please. Anywhoos I tolds ya all I was born backwards....damn I am too old for this shit!!!"
"And damn this field is gorgeous like we used to be. Back in 93!"
When a sing song virgin thought she was dancing to her own beat and she missed the rhythm of your light beams coming from that large ugly truck you always hated, but I haven't lost that memory at all. The way you were leaning up, all posture perfect against that brick wall, like somehow it had been whipped into your core, to stand up straight! "Ima a bass add MF with attitude!
It wasn't Tallahassee where I saw you first it was on the back roads in Oh hi oh, it's you? And you pulled my stringy hair back from around my eyes and I was 12 and you asked me to please take off my glasses. And then something like magic I was older now.
But you teased me a bunch straight through the years and even though we swung from tire swings and jumped off of cliffs together, there was no saying or telling what would come after, but you left me be, didn't you?
And should I set the hay field on fire to show you, that I grew up right?
Nah it ain't our crop, and that aren't our Parole officers watching over us.
Simple summer night and my friend Katy did told me this time,
"Ah babe you’re too easy to figure out!" Well humph Katydid was right!!! So I said let me show you something weird...I been sucking on this here lollipop near 20 years!!!
And I was dreaming the whole time...who I was gonna be when I grew up and met you!
He said well ain't that sweet, I just woke up from a combine accident which left me in a coma all these years and well I promised myself if I ever forgot what you look like in glasses, I would take them off of you.
You are so silly boy...that was yesterday. And she laughed and giggled and push him off a very short brick wall, straight into some pig slop! And when he came too he was only 14...and up out the mud, he asked the little stringy haired girl to marry him, but only if she could shoot Wild Turkey, and dance in the moonshine, and that she should never take one tear drop for granted. And she said but I am only 12? The boy said "duck, now, hurry. listen" time takes time and you need to listen to me okay???" She ducked down low and the young man, hovered over here. His hair kind of swept over her face, a way she like but was certainly not used to thinking of the gawky kid that way. They listened and it was like something was flying right over their heads! Very loud and obnoxious screeching sound and then the sound of glass hit the solid ground with a smash!
She walks in the room like totally freaking out, it’s a whole knew crowd this time. She is 32. He sees her. She smiles. And she walks over and hands him, the keys to their mansion which was purchased from some cell mates.
And as odd as time travel may sound, I do believe this is a story as such and here we are back to the beginning.
"Did I miss something? You do know I am kind of an awkward girl??? Why are you all being so protective of me? Are you really sure I am okay?" My teeth are crooked, but can kick the highest on the squad. Right??? Are you sure this man really loves me? "Tell me what did I miss? I am always missing the point or something...like God made me that way for a reason. I am pretty sure I am missing part of my brain...???"
"Nah Mandy, all you missed was one bad night, one bad night, so Your dad just threw that bottle that was to kill ya, over your head, because we all love you and want you to be safe!
Happy Sweet Sixteen!!!
(And these two lived happily ever after. Yes I did get like my worst grade ever in college for Creative Writing...my teacher told me I lacked imagination and depth. YAHOO! to yoo hoo.
Tales from the farm lol...)
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Fourth Step Story
(excerpt from Fairytale of a Felony Stalker)
And I could complain and bitch about the injustice of what has happened, and how unfair it is these things happen to me, for the rest of my life, I could. So what good would that do? I think it’s best if I just accept that I go insane sometimes. And be glad it’s like every three to five years and not every day. And be thankful that I can take care of myself and my kids, even if I do need to be on disability right now. I have a home and a car and many many capabilities that a lot of mentally ill people do not have. Mainly because of the double edge sword which is me, is that no one believes how ill I can be. Maybe because I carry myself well, and I have always hidden it, I know how to hide hell, but If I go to heaven again there may be an issue! I am hoping though for a healing, and that heaven was the finish to my psychotic process, my spiritual emergence. At least the psychotic nightmares being gone gives me some hope. I believe there is something to be done with all of this business and I won’t sit around and wallow in embarrassment because, hey sometimes I go insane…what gives? And you can learn so much from the enlightenment of insanity!
My fourth step story is interesting. Susan listened to me, even though she knew I was nuts. It was 14 pages. She listened and then handed me a list of character defects. I did not get relief, even though I did the sixth and seventh step right after. For six days I psychotically processed my past. Everything made sense and it was painful. The rape, the drugs, the cycle of abuse. I thought of my father and how he Hester Prynn’ed my mother and me. Modern day Scarlett Letter, and I am Pearl. My mother with a screaming baby, 19 years old on a bus in Seattle, someone gave her a dollar for a pacifier, to shut that little girl up! Everybody wants to shut me up, I must have something to tell the world that’s important! Oh the shame of a single mother…and now look at the world and all the superhero single mothers. We are sick! Father Wounds. Let’s make a baby! Then let’s make six more and then fudge your secretary, and tell me you’re too good to know me! I hope I don’t sound bitter dad! All my dad’s daughters were happy cheerleaders, only the other three never got beat up by the world. They married their high school sweethearts and have two kids, and white picket fences, and not the Schitzo gene. Thank you for my daddy issues, and alcoholism, all betta now pappi! I got two kids too! So I got a welfare poverty curse from my dad. Started there, pushed and shoved to never be there…and right back there. So I didn’t get any relief after my fourth step, whatsoever. For those six days I was processing like a rapid computer, and not eating or sleeping. Nuts. So on sixth morning I am sitting on the porch all psycho, just happened to be wearing your t-shirt to bed…how ironic I wore your t-shirt to jail the first time…symbolic strength. My hair was all sorts of crazy…as was I. Two cops come from behind the house. I run in my house. Today is not a good day guys! I am hyperventilating. I fake faint and hit my head on the fridge. I can’t do this, I am crazy right now! They talked me down and said I couldn’t do that, and that they just needed to take me to talk to a judge. So I jumped up and said, “I just got to talk to a judge?” I can do that. I started playing with them, teasing them about which one was the good cop, and which one was the bad cop. Telling them I don’t know how to pick guys. I had them put a head band on me to fix my hair while I was cuffed. I started telling them about my love story and all that had happened…they laughed. So I got to jail and I thought it was like a maze that I had to make it through, and there would be everyone cheering for me at the end. That’s because in the sack lunch there was the commissary ad that said “Homecoming.” What a fudging trip! If I just endure this, my party is on the other side, and Adam would be there waiting for me! Yeah so not in reality in jail, that’s way unsafe! So for two days I can’t sleep and kept psychotically processing the pain of my past and choices, and why and how it happened to me. I have never been in so much pain, and all the voices talking, were saying things to me. Calling me names. I feel the hard bed and it represents my first bed, which was my mother’s dresser drawer…there was a revelation in that about poverty cycles, which I remember from sociology class. I think I will write a book about that too. How I lived in jail the first two days I do not know. Plumb loca. At least I processed my fourth step by recognizing I don’t want to feel my own pain. I want to black out, knock me out, I said to the guard, give me something to sleep I can’t be hearing this shit! I asked a Mexican Lesbian to punch me in the face, because I couldn’t get pills or a shot…make it stop! And then, that is when I realized that I didn’t know how to feel my own pain, and that I never have. And then it all stopped. God relieved it. He gave me peace, he said that is your addiction…to not feel pain. That was always why I had been so sick. Never feel anyone touching me or hurting me…because I was too drunk and blacked out to feel it. Hence never feeling chemistry before you. And so I calmed down and rested…and stopped listening. And in that moment a wall was built between me in my past. A wall that separated me from it, and the pain. Then they put me with a chatty little meth head in another cell, and I was just fine again. Well still psychotic, and off, on what the hell to do in jail, but not so much that it was noticeable. I will never forget the power of my Fourth Step! And I decided what I have always had is MEN TELL ILLNESS. Chew on that for a minute. And surely I will have ideas for a book about the degradation of our society through the breakdown of the family unit. Welfare society where our men have lost their roles as providers and protectors, gender confusion is ramped, and crime, poverty and addiction are destroying America. MEN TELL ILLNESS. I believe it is genetic and demonic, and part of the devil’s plan. Thank God I got ran over and got fat when I was 20, I could have been an amazing porn star or stripper! Keep those ladies coming, boys need their entertainment! What a sick society we live in. Thank you God for my scars! Please come back GOD! I think it is going to happen soon. Beat that fourth step story, haha!!!
Pearl Harvest
Oh the tides...
ever so high!
And they swept me away and under,
and there is no coming back from where I have been.
There is no forgetting that dark see...
or the sun shining down on me!
To understand where I am going?
To not fear; alone?
And I believe My Captain Somewhere,
is somewhere out there waiting...
but then I don't know!
Am I so lost that I am forgotten?
Is my story a shell forgotten in the sand...
where the tides sweep.
Over and over, day in...
and day out.
And it’s a gentle rocking of a lullabye...
yet not soothing in agitation...
creates something?
That I yet believe My Pirate Somewhere,
believes in me?
Could it be a pearl, then???
And then it is the misty morning,
that bring my tears of sorrow.
Because I feel lost!!!
For what kind of fool have I been?
To believe in something so hollow?
A shell? A shell?
The drifter Pirate Somewhere is never going to Sea.
See he waits too long,
because of love for me?
It is only in a story,
and my ocean's tide is so high.
All the weight of the world banking on it.
Deep down a little girl's dream...
was of oceans she could swim in...without the Captain's chains.
And his chains are the pressure of the ocean, so strong these
arms,
bearing down on me.
And the wait is for beauty,
and the scratching lullabye of hours, days and years...
hums for something so unbelievably shiny...
and the wait,
and the weight,
and the pressure,
and the agitation,
and the tide,
and the hollow,
and the dream,
and the chains,
and the belief,
and the ever persistent scratch,
and the lullabye,
and the gentle...
and the strength...
And so you see...he makes LOVE to me at the bottom of the ocean.
SO HE KEEPS ME THERE IN A SHELL.
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Intimate Montage…
“Ourglass”
Time will tell.
What will I tell, when I am old and grey?
Wait, I am already grey...
Such a story!
Captivates me in the least.
This was our time, all my fantasy...
a hidden treasure in a predictable life.
Makes me feel like a princess,
trapped in a castle,
while the prince possessed lays a slumber.
Makes me feel so absolutely alive, as
though I had never lived before.
Makes me scream inside,
in a visceral way, truth know my heart beats.
Terrifying changes stare me down.
As in letting go,
Ending this story, which is all
I have known...all I want.
It’s all been mine and it has been,
a miracle beyond miracles to think
of nightmares gone...
and growth and hope,
and slaying my demons, though
they rest on you.
I have no understanding, this power.
This transference of fear,
Only that it just is, that away it all
went, with love for one.
Sworn against true love in chains,
I’ve seen it all in my dreams.
Had we met before this lifetime, I know
the plan would be no different.
Fear not destiny,
Fear not dreams,
for there we dance and laugh.
We are whole, and know not hate.
Wrapped up security blankets,
just babies.
Just new to that world.
Imagination, or real?
Fear of me, is from me.
My escape now, is to show me plain.
Not bold, nor colorful.
Quiet retreat to normalcy?
Time shall tell.
Hmmmmm...the sound of sand in the glass.
Not invested in love turned black,
for it destroys beauty,
with a kiss.
Hiss...hmmmmm...the sound of sand in the glass.
And it is an evil seed of hate in this world.
To divide strange hearts.
Pit them against, obliviously obvious,
tangled snake Hiss is...the sound of sand in the glass.
We took that bite...red blood beats...
Hmmmm...
The Apple doeth poison, Adam and Eve alike.
Hmmmmmm...
How much sand in the glass?
Eve is grey....hmmmmm...
Her shape hourglass, shivers asunder,
in time falling down, lagging behind.
Hurry there is no time.
Hiss. Kiss. Time. Fate.
Destiny...awake.
Ourglass...hmmmmmm?
Lace all over. Over you, over me...it’s all over. A shattered see through glass of tears, lay on the bedside table. It's been there, waiting...waiting and wanting. Tangled up in a web of mind's lies, pretend the best, waits. The setup is paramount, and there are candles lit. And slow and steady we set the room on fire. For all this was set up paramount to burn it to the ground. There is no way it would be average. Or dull. For I have enough passion to electrify the solar system...yes I mean the stars. I have imagined it, so what? Something he said about going to the ceiling? That never happened? True heartbeats in time with the memories and all my diverse-abilty, has an intricate way of expression. For lack of a better term absofrickenlutely amazing...
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Booked In Battle
So I’ve been writing book 2. Ya its pretty cool, but it draws me into the sketchitfindit frequency. And now I am half in, and half out and very confused. If I wasn’t in so much trouble in one world, maybe I could write the other in peace. I feel like I am supposed to write this book, but I have friends, stomping into my house to perform exercision on me...they weren’t giving up on their plan. I went along with it eventually...and yes I do believe in the power in Jesus name, but I don’t think I am possessed anymore, think I get attacked because there is something I am supposed to do for the Lord.
So I see in two realms...hmmmmmm. Feels like a movie...feels like I am definitely a psycho...oh well. That’s all I have been saying to the others, is yep...I hear you, but I don’t know what you want and there is nothing I can do until I figure it out, accept to trust God, that everything is going to happen as he wants it. And like the fate is not in my hands. I am I servant, merely a servant to God, and he can have all of me. And I try to psychologically and spiritually wrap up all my trust and hope that I put into Adam, and ask God to take that for Himself.
I am really tired of the nuthouse...no offense. I really wanted Jesus to come back last night, so that we could all just see the good side. I believe he will. I am one messed up person, just one...and it says in the bible that he would have died to save person, but he died for all. I think all includes every soul that has ever been.
I am sick of sickness, and my delusions see it all gone. We are whole and happy and one.
The first one to the last one, and all in between. I don’t know how to battle this except I must have legions of angels beside me, because I feel as though I speak a foreign language to this side. Tongues or not, I am received luke warm and critical. Half despised and mocked and no true acceptance.
See I am bipolock.
Half n Half, out.
All I know is yesterday,
was a tomorrow.
Psycho Stocker,
Trivial knowledge.
Cheered for once,
Then turn around,
Hated and feared.
No one understands...
but everybody does!
How confusing God!
Flip it like a pancake...
Seriously, again?
Attempt not,
Know I don't know.
Too much...you are too much!
Never mind, you're not enough.
Good frickin grief.
Just pull me to one side...
All ready?
Battle Alli gate doors,
Because I Am is fired up!
Switch to flip,
Now we are tried and true.
Open the floodgates
and stop rewinding
and repeating!
Knock out enemy center core.
Listen. Just Listen.
Pause.
Now fight more.
Heaven saves knot yesterday,
knot tomorrow,
But for Today.
Amen.
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Foreign Languages
It was like we were speaking foreign languages to each other. That's how something in me knew. Even when I wasn't crazy, he is telling other guys that I was crazy. Won't listen to a word I have to say, but I love you dude, what's your damage? A little too hard to get. Such a challenge and I wondered why so much? Why a hater on me? Something about it was adding up to mean something, because I wasn't giving up either, and that is totally not like me, and he doesn't give up at the same time! Like we are both badasses! haha! A driven purpose of some sort? I know he is a total sweetie, I guess with an asshole edge, but really any length to keep me away from him? That's blatantly spiritual and I can see that now. I didn't know all along or understand why I couldn't let go, but I do know that I am healed and that's a whopper, so there. Neener, neener to the weiner!
The reason is God lead me to it...I have never trusted God more with anything and there has been amazing results. It’s just too obvious. The first time I fall in love? I am a stalker? Something is a little off! And I did not know that Adam was effeminate until people told me! You know the long hair sensitive type? And I am like no???...Adam is the hottest MF in the world! Don't call him names! Don't make fun of him. And I thought its super cute his voice goes up an octave when he is excited! All of him was way sexy to me...guess he is just not used to my kind of drive, lol! And people made fun of me to great lengths as well! I bet you can just imagine 35 year old mother of two, trying to get her game on sideways, oh boy howdy! It's kind of hilarious actually, God is a comedian.
So that's quite obvious we were speaking foreign languages to each other. Good thing I have my spirit speak to interpret! I didn't know any of this, I just knew I was in love...and now it is all making sense. And first love is the best love let me tell you. Absolutely heavenly!!! No doubt about it this has been an interesting journey, and I am all woman, for that Adam dude. I guess that's what makes a good stalker is when you still get excited feelings in your tummy just from talking about it, WTF? Eeeeekkkk he makes me a loca chicana! Esta loca en la cabeza muy mal over this hombre! It’s just like the empires of the world are uniting! Or should I say the spiritual realm and the earth? Didn't ya know I was gifted? Keep ya coming back for more...this is gonna get real good people! Deliciously, spiritually good.
Dye-Delaney
"Never call me again." I distinctly remember the end of that conversation like it was yesterday. It was the Petersons? Delaney's? Or Pitts? But I was trying to get ahold of my children's paternal grandparents. You see my married last name is Dye, and it is the last name of my children, which was an adoptive name of my ex husband Justin. He doesn't know his father or that side of his family. His own mother died when he was 23, and she had been left at a church with her two brothers as a toddler. The adoption papers said the Delaney's were unable to care for Sally Jo, I think it was then that she became a Peterson. So my ex is pretty much alone in this world. He somehow was the inheritance to Step-adoptive grandparent’s estate, I have never met anyone related to him. His blood right last name goes back to Delaney.
I was born a Nehus. My mother's maiden name. My birth dad is a Clark and wants nothing to do with me. I looked him up when I was 18 and met him. He lied about not knowing about me, and ever since it has been a tenuous distant relationship. He has a large family. So does my mom. My mom married a McCann when I was six, I stayed a maiden Nehus. I have 9 younger siblings, 6 of which are estranged.
So my children who should have a huge family and cousins, know my moms side. I only know my mom's side and my step dad's and Justin knows no one! It’s so strange! And last night I had a dream about it. Dye-Delaney.
I can never get anything right in my dreams, it’s a continuous loop of me eventually doing something wrong no matter how hard I try. It is much like my psychosis. There is an estate sale at my grandparents McCann. What I want to buy is a bible and drawings of the Wizard of Oz from the 1930's done by my grandma. They are partially finished. On the drawing is names of births and marriages with years, much like you would put in a bible, but my bible I want to buy for three dollars is empty. There are four drawings of the Wizard of Oz clan and my name is written on the fourth, it just says Miranda 197-. That's it, not even my birthdate, just that I was to be born in the 70's. Suddenly people I know are swirling around the estate sale. They begin to ridicule me. They are morphing between the looks I grew up with in my grandparent’s church which was quite legalistic, into beautiful modern day looks. They all know their lineage. I walk in a room and see Justin and try to talk to him, but he too is ridiculing me. Justin typically smokes but he was not, and I was the only one smoking in this room. Then I am sitting in a chair and women start circling around me, quite close and they are all smoking and they look horrid. Just the typical looks of aged smokers and poverished. Smoking is always a big issue of guilt in my dreams and psychoses. These women were snapping judgements on me and blowing smoke on me...it left quite the impression. Then I remember seeing written on the Wizard of Oz drawings, Dye-Delaney a marriage. I wondered if I was somehow I was related to Justin. But the dream told me somehow whatever I had done in my life was wrong, like everything. That my children were heirs and I was excluded. This is how it is in my psychosis too. Everyone goes to heaven except for me.
I woke up with a deep desire to get this post done. Someting about inheritance of a spiritual nature. I have also been wondering if I am going into psychosis. My dreams are strong with it. It's my birthday tomorrow and I was in the hospital on my birthday last year. Lineage and birthright always come up in psychoses. Something is up. I don't know what, but something.
Crocodile Tears
How odd those stupid tears?
They are not there anymore!
Peter, You've disappeared!
Dried up the Pacific we did!
The crocs must have ate you, and
You had them! You did!
You were holding all my tears!
Breaking and entering my heart!
Arrest my recovery then, stand
still in time, stand erect at attention,
because the Lost Boys can’t find you
Peter!!!
And be steal my bosom too...oh my!
I swoon, nay faint at the sound of an atom bomb!
Such a Big Deal it all is!
Tink, tink, a barely audible Adam bomb
...and my ears shoot up like Dumbo!
Flying through the air? WHAT?
Oh did you say Peter? Is he ok?
Is my Peter okay? OMG I hurt Peter,
I just want him to be ok!
Please someone tell me Peter is ok!
I am fukn freakin out that Peter is not ok!!!
Girly scream here...
So what’s the rumor now?
I broke in and hovered in the air you say?
Golly gee I am amazin!
Oh the stealth of knocking on one's heart!
And the skillz I possess, the ability to knock
on a door and have someone open it...
it’s like fukn magic for real!
Hey you Peter...yeah you, I put my tears in a bottle
just for you...and you took off with my tears!
And it was the best idea ever!
You saved my life, just in time.
Tears in the bottle? Who would have
thought? The best adventure of my life!
Are you held captive?
Crocs? Docs? Pro bait son's peril?
The fallen and dismissed son's of Sham?
Total shame...NOT!!!
Court ships? EZ Bake Ovens for the poor?
Pot and Pan's, Peter!
Total croc of shit Peter!!!
Ima up in hera sayin shit aint a'ight Peter!
Wendy with two fell on knees?
What about my Ed...you Kate's son?
Say what about Wendy's stud aunt loans?
I've been dis labled!
It wasn’t me, there is no proof!
I dare you to dust my Droid baby!
Feathers preferred, tink tink.
Fudge it anyway, here I am anyway,
on the plank with a triple axel swan dive!
I get a ten, with a smooth entrance into the pool, Peter!!!
Isn’t our gene pool miraculous???!!!
Anyway I cannot cry anymore.
So don’t cry for me in Argentina or Montana
I traded a bottle of vodka mixed with, what you had...Peter???
You mean I traded my drink for a dashing young man?
Is that you Peter? Tasty! Slurp, guzzle...gargle with you.
Rinse and repeat, Mary Go around,
this isn’t happening, ever!!!
Oh MY Gosh People! Just a sip, just a lil sip of 'em?
How the heck did I go insane from you, Peter?
I am sick of this double life,
Peter find your sword,
and get out of the crocs belly quick!
Thank you for holding onto my tears...
it was rejuvenating.
And then I look at my past, as if an ocean.
Tears kept inside of me, and all it ever was,
was just enough to fill a bottle.
My ocean is big and blue and beautiful...
what a world God made!
Love, Eve Rising
Total whack job revolutionary spiritual handmaiden, trapped in actress role, and doing a helluva job!
There's just too much to talk about Lost Boys...
too much. This is some psychosis writing, but i am in reality very normal for me lately I guess...doesn't everybody have an alter ego???
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pirate Fantasies
Be twiX ex bedazzled.
Twas a starry night, that night.
He leads me by fiery eyes that hinders that thunder.
There is no more yearning, and no less than before...
just the same steady call like our lighthouse.
Because there he was in that ship, and I waited atop the widows peak wailing.
Never had he felt so close than in that written poem.
Yes it was that particular starry night our eyes danced and the shutters of the house creaked with our seeming less notion, that we both begged for more, without saying one word.
I wrote. I wrote.
And the caress of the bow of the boat as it lulled, in lullabye of wanting no questions,
Just that heartbeat rhythm faster, and faster, row that boat.
The Siren she's called a red haired flame, and she is my twin with no name.
She rows back and forth in harmony with the waves...
She sings and sings, but pirate delays.
For two we were ocean and to destiny we slave.
And her wails atop the wailing widows peak,
Slide down into the boat.
She is rocking alone...the lullabye is caught in her throat.
It's sad to sing for so long she drinks...the salty water.
Tears.
Tears.
Tears.
For he is not gone. He is not dead to see.
He is alive and well, and written for this ecstasy.
He is one drop in the vein, and a rouche and roulette.
Everywhere I turn, no where.
Amazing this quest to find true north, for I wrote it so...
Moonlight millennial starry nights ago.
Potion made of loves' regret not forgotten.
Sifting sand barrel of rum.
Shifting weight left to right...
Run.
Run.
Run.
Moonlights Midnight
At Moonlight's Midnight
At Love She Fails.
Steigen Fur De Mond.
New House of Dye
Takes not the apple.
Aye for eye...
Tis midnight moonlight,
He does not fail.
She fell beyond,
the horizons keep coming...
Ships and the Knight,
never fair she well.
Lost to see, too blind
the stare, case to case.
A treasure chest full
of fate.
Poetry...lines of it, white.
Black on forever.
Neverland awaits...
Cookoo bird, but holding
by a stanza, word for word.
In a world gone gray...
line for line, white souloette,
she’s been doing time.
Steigen Fur de Mond.
Monday again, pales though
against the write on right.
Mond licht empfindlich nine.
Far out to see...
Simple yes, easy nine...
No more. Mond
Pales in comparison to what is
now known.
A thousand times better,
AT LOVE SHE SAILS.
Steigen fur de mond,
Captain.
Nehus Or New House was my maiden name...guess what I am German. Steigen Fur de Mond is "rise for the moon"...and I am thinking that saying in my poem is passionate and requesting, but not in a demanding way which would be to also say "bitta" which means do it right now or else...
Rising my character's last name is of the light, ebbing out the darkness. The moon's light comes in the Evening, and stays til the last hour...but as the hmmmmmm of time day in night out, the tick, the tock. The clock, black and white...neither predominant, but equals and without one there is no other. Yin Yang, balance. And so when I sleep, he is awake, and when I wake he is asleep...and in two worlds separate we keep. Rise for the Moon, Adam Raposa...
Empfindlich means thin skinned, nine means not.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Amore to Understand
A short poem I wrote in the hospital. I think it’s about before and after I met Adam.
She's shaping, shifting thin to dust, shrinking treasures in a chest robust.
Weeping willows sing the tune, Income, Outcome, Back to Noon...where she lay in a coughin, waiting for air.
Her bones withering frail, shall he find her barely two breathe.
Pecking at her eyes were the birds of despair, of the ships crew, saddled up ready to be fat on stew.
Her Captain knows she lays asleep, shaping, shifting, with every Wake.
When they hoist her high Once A More, she will be singing of love on Sandy's Shore.
Fresh and pink, her skin aglow, know forever more her heart to grow like a flower planted bye seeds God's hand's love, amore to understand.
Eve Rising
I know I am in control of the battle.
I am Eve Rising.
For the wages of sin is death...
yet I breathe.
Conquering demons, dreaming measures...and taking names.
Up to the house two by two.
Ghetto Warrior Princess.
Triple threat!
As it unfolds, the truth is revealed.
Masked in insecurity...the mundane life was over.
She stepped up...took the sword.
The sword was her tongue.
And she riddled them a saga, no one could deny.
The wages is pages,
and she set out to write it.
To write it.
An account, and her bills were past due.
Due in due time!
To each their magic own.
Unbridled she wept for a Dragon.
But she knew she had a job to do.
She set out to right it.
To right the wrongs of past mistakes.
And claim her rightful inheritance of fate.
Each step, Each action counted.
Measures and steps and ink.
And a prophecy of knowledge,
Insurmountable never ending task at hand.
Pages of passages through trials unnumbered.
The wrong became the right.
That path of the daunting...unlocked.
Never shielded by that sword.
Her words pierced through as a weapon...
and all it ever was, was a dream.
And she wrote and wrote...and in the night would scream!
At last, the secret would reveal...
she was not forsaken.
Measures and steps and ink.
Pounding brain.
Sword.
Pierce.
HEART.
Love.
Two.
Much.
I do believe.
I am Eve Rising.
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