personal musings unleashed.

Learned something new today. Moments. Happen.

I have loved but one man. For thirty years. This experience leaves me rather naive about men and love and how the world works. I have never smoked, taken drugs and my first taste of alcohol was to drown pain at 48. It is three years later and my penchant for rum, brandy and vodka is growing. One feels freer under a bottle’s influence of twisted words and greedy sex. And then he arrived. Hungrier than me. A stinger, a fighter, a god. And he took to my attention, selling wares of satisfaction, provided i comply.

Where am i in all of this? Living in a dream that strikes fear in my heart. A complying pisces who strikes the bait, knowing full well the line can be reeled in, one netted and unable to free herself from captivity!

No! Swim faster…nothing turns out right… miscommunication, ha! amongst writers? it happens and is happening… can you not see my heart… veiled by modesty…

can you not hear my desire… to be friends? ha! amongst writers… where ego takes over

and all sadness aside… my loneliness is welcome… simply wanted, needed, desired a muse…

and you needed, wanted, desired

more than i can, could, will give.

and i will act like i am not hurt but i am hurt. terribly!

pieces of me.

no lying converges
abandoned by family
he came along

willing, she loved
yielding, she wondered

anguish reaching years
his counsel tearing
desert hearts apart

tattered dress seams
left wholly unclean

brutally honest mind
history resists mending
living among rubble

April/May 2018

A short story I wrote – enjoy! (Reblog.)

‘’Have you ever heard of smiley face killers?’’ my friend asked.

‘’Smiley face killers?’’ I asked. ‘’College-aged men who end up dead in the water, with signs of torture? Is this where your journalistic investigations have taken you now, Alice?’’

A short story I wrote – enjoy!

— Read on existentialtableau.wordpress.com/2018/06/27/a-short-story-i-wrote-enjoy/

personal musings unleashed

who is responsible? for me… and there is no blame to lay… early the birds chirp. have you ever heard a grumpy bird? not me… and there is no shame today… all ready to plan my day… all these baby steps, these horrid thoughts shed…

(woah, guilt, back off, this is space to spread cheer… your not welcome here…)

my greatest joy to date are all the wonderful people i met at the homeless shelter… witness women struggle and that was the place all my depression and anxiety was shed… found spiritual friends, our souls, a union… our lives, a chorus sung, entwined around a root cause… all else is ignorant complaints surrounding insecurities… playing arrogant games, leveling up our status on the backs of others… who we rise to shout down… how do we think we are better to shine as a star rather than a fellow man? this me, has gleaned wisdom, to spread my cheer…

i no longer look outward but inward and there peace resides and all the world’s negativity slides… i become the stairs to climb and reach my hand down… help my sister find her contentment… buried beside her self… she cries… the bird dead… he shivers… quietly i revive each… not in revolution but in finding solutions and working towards a common goal… no angry bird survives. no angry person thrives…

you breed strife in anger… let the melody ring… freedom is a just cause… a mind at peace is priceless… so sisters join hands and the homeless find a home in my heart.

retreat.

this whispered touch
middle finger caress
splits open -borders
a wounded heart
to bleed love
and flow your way

dreamt you held
these broken bones
crushed dream -hoarder
i offered you
my orange creamsicle
spiked with fear

perched atop
you slink below
covered silk -corridor
i whisk away…
you needed more
rain to pour

chasing me into trouble
under the gun -again
and now i will never be free

personal musings unleashed

We really do not know each other, do we?

Years were spent cultivating all these hateful thoughts. Up until today, all that is wrong with life, seemed to be my fault. I easily accepted blame and never fought the day my mom banished me from their life. I was not the daughter she wanted and I constantly told myself it was my fault. I really believed awful things, that ruminated in my inner conversations. I tortured myself with thoughts of hangings, driving over bridges and splashing into rivers, jumping from a third floor apartment window while pregnant with my first daughter. Or recently, recklessly scraping a knife across my neck and wrists, aimlessly staring out the kitchen window above the sink, while I witnessed a small trickle of blood seep out. The drops slid down and pooled near the drain. Blue dreams turned red. Hot and bothered, I quickly fed myself more lies.  I truly believed I did not deserve life. Lies I recognize now. Lies taught to me. Lies I easily fall back into when I am not staying present in the day.

I am not looking to place blame. Oh, well I will blame myself for getting caught up in a web of lies. Lies that told me I am no good…

I  believed that I was no good for the longest time. Therapy has done wonders for my soul. My heart and head no longer bleed needlessly. Only when I forget who I am.  I have learned to fight back. I am not cut by my own hands or any one else’s for that matter. Not anymore.

During this personal awakening, I have ventured to places I should not have. I became too brave and traipsed where I did not see the wrongdoing on my part or the wrongdoing of another. I enticed it to go on longer than it should because of feeling alone. Sometimes I want to indulge myself more. Whisper sweet things to strangers. They do not mind. Neither do I. But I am hurting people, including myself. It just has this turn on not easily turned off. Then realize I am not truly alone.

I live in a self-enclosed loneliness because I am afraid of true love. I begged for love during childhood and I simply do not understand real love. When it showed up, I fought and fight against it. Trying to convince others I am no good. They should kill me too. Surely make it easier to die, than by my own hands. I even had a cop ready to take his gun from his holster. I pushed just enough. But really not enough. I retreated from the edge. The dryness I remember. The trying to swallow while the heat rose from my feet. What was I asking for? Was this fight really worth anyone causing harm to another?

All these words sprout from somewhere deep… some words remain shallow and swim close to the edge of my skin. Others are dying for air and I happily let them out. Luckily for me, the words mostly die the minute they hit the atmosphere. Nothing survives without oxygen and these thoughts greedily suck up all the oxygen my body consumes. Often I am left with little but carbon dioxide. I am not a plant. Not even a humble clover or Venus Flytrap, as some men like to portray me. I need oxygen. I need to breathe.

——–

I know what would have happened to me had my past plans come true. But do you? Or would you even care?

Heck! You do not know me. Why do I think you do? Or want to.

How much do we want to know about others? Or others to know of us? It is easy to write. Well, not always. I struggle and then I struggle again, with posting. But I do write. And I do post. It is all here to read. Until it is no longer.

I think and rethink myself over. Over and over I turn the bells in my head and they always ring twice and I still never hear them. Do you?

close.

rather distant
we no longer speak
God and i broke up

last night
silence spoke for me
tears to cleanse

the past futile
my arms too short
to reach wrongs

committed by closeness
pain hurts when joined
by love. peace and joy…

being. entwined.

All of life is not misery. It just feels of late, a cloud hovers. Suicide blaring red letters across the skies, as if to tempt the coward.

For me, WordPress was never about publishing a book. The issue of publishing a book are the words forever etched into time. I rebel against such a thought. I strive to be free of this world. Why would i lock up my soul to mere pages? My desire exists beyond the confines of any mind.

So WordPress becomes an outlet to release my crazy thoughts. A cathartic exercise. Skimming the surface, I fear going deeper. What lurks there most would tremble, be repulsed, or worse, not understand. I feel lonely enough with these thoughts, without comments overheard. To those who don’t believe hell exists, welcome.

My gift is to burn my poems. Send them as ash to the Creator, in hopes they bring fresh beginnings. This present life has enough sorrow without my permanently adding to the drear and desperation so many witness and feel. Second-hand emotions are lethal.

My prayer is future generations will be afforded a pleasant, happy life. Absent of mine.

All of life is not misery. This too shall recover. A new skin revealed, to dress the wounds. A phoenix rises on the horizon.