I can’t worry too much now – I ordered groceries late last night and forgot they were delivered between 6 and 8 am. I also managed to cancel a few Amazon orders I’d made at the time for some skorts in size small (distress tolerance) before they shipped. My therapist at the psych ward would get how important that is, especially since I have so many skorts in a size medium im working my way back to. Amazon skorts from have gotten me through this Agoraphobic, crazy, and anorexic phase of losing myself because 1) they brought me joy, 2) I’m ready to rediscover forgotten items in my wardrobe, and 3) on my worst days, clothes were my form of art. Clothes are a form of choice and self-expression, so CLOTHES ARE ART!
P.S. This is my first hit at a REAL POEM post-psych ward. I know it’s rough, but it was a dream and I got it out. So YAY ME!!
PPS. (I’m an eternal PS’er) This photo is courtesy of Niranjan Photographs in India, where they make the fanciest art out of clothes!
I’m over my need to know anything. You are free to love, free to hide, and free to be. Freed from my timing for rescue and miracles, Free of my need for self-crucifixion, I myself am finally free of moral injuries. So I’m the One who’s Truly Free And greatly blessed am I indeed
LOVER OF THE COLLECTIVE & PERSONAL “HE” & “SHE”: HUMANITY
Broken. OK With It. Sparkle Most Radiantly When Blended and/or Paired. Individually Stronger Than Originally Thought. Capable of Incredibly Courageous Acts. Passion. Compassion. Welcome Home! Welcome Back! I’ve Missed You So Much! Dream Architects. Lifelong Learners of Both and Each. Seek Wholeness in Self. Seek Greatest Potential in Relationship. Great Times. Mediocre Times. Tough Times. Life-Threatening Times. Devotion, Dedication, and Commitment in All Times. Don’t Take Pain Out On Others. If Pain Taken Out On Others, Sincerely Apologize for Any Pain Inflicted. Put Both Loves First. Sacrifice One for the Other to Become a Best Both & Each. Capable of True Love. SOLE Home of True Love. Is LOVE.
P.S. Convicted by my own damn poem! I NEVER post my poems on Facebook, but my poem compelled me. It’s why Poetry makes me a Better Lover of He & She❣️
He works behind the scenes, Designing worlds of Magic For his Precious Girl, He sees the Princess in the Whirl Winds her down to calm again. His shoulder comforts at days’ end Into nights where long He longs to love-express Be seen and loved for his Best Self. He’s loved all day, it might not show There’s just One Place he calls his Home.
Though her beauty is unparalleled, She doesn’t see herself. More heart-on-sleeve Than ice queen, More You-ist Than opportunist, Unlike others but Cares about others. She’s extraordinary, With a kind arm and A soft word. She’s superior, A cut above the others, She opens up to others. She has a mango smell And an intoxicating scent Which compel Towards her eyes, Deep liquid sighs. She shines too bright, She’s filled with Light, She spills it out, She gifts, it spouts, Transparency She gives for free. She’s beauty-blind, She’s very kind, She’s Femininity.
PSA: A MOVING SNAPSHOT OF THE STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 ♨️♨️♨️
It’s not for the faint of heart, So before you even begin to CONTEMPLATE to start the post, I’ll pre-advise you QUIT while still time; That’s the most WARNING I’ll provide.
I mean: I know it’s a Sunday, But this Public Service Announcement Comes at a high cost to ME, So if you can’t withhold YOUR judgment Or your morals to make the space SO I can release the Advice alien-ating out of MY HEART onto MY PAGE, Please keep your eyes on Yours and Yours.
Not that any of respectful YOU Has EVER even tried, But in 2022, Virtual and Reality are mixed, And I’ve got a Religious Persecution Complex After a lifetime of abuse.
It all boils down to facts As simple as this and that I need be LISTENED TO!! So “Grow up, You Old Idiot! You’re as apparently as old as me, So why can’t you see That my telling YOU Is an effort to relieve ME!? I know ALL these pleas fall on deaf ears” Pleads ‘Feels-Too-Muted’ Me.
For the record, I didn’t even know there COULD be more than two viewers To a “Private Story!” Maybe in your fantastical stories, Laden with Rote Artificiality, But not in mine, and at least for now, NEVER in me!
At a very young age (around aged 3), I developed an “insecure attachment style.”
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself. Then the pattern repeated itself.
10,000, 000 hours of therapy and “self-help practices” later,
The pattern is repeating itself.
The only difference is I’m aware The pattern is repeating itself.
It’s a GREAT START, though! It makes me feel more “sane and secure” when I’m aware History is trying to repeat itself.
The patterns color my history, but my awareness of them shows ME how strong I’ve been the entire time.
I’m not shooting for “happily ever after,” but rather “hopefully-awareful-and-content.”
Songs and Poems are practically the same. Except for the music, Which, frankly, sets Music apart. But they both tell a story, And they both require the same degree of literary agility.
However, Poetry is making Poetry, and Song is making Poetry WHILE making Music, So a song requires far more mental juggling to write than a poem. But to Poem’s credit, it has to LOOK good While Song only has to SOUND good. Not only am I NOT Musically talented, But keeping up appearances has become too exhausting over the last year.
So I write poems instead of catchy lyrics. Carrots and peas, peas and carrots, Please don’t get carrot away by my pun, At the time it made poetic sense. But for now I’ll just sum:
Poemwriters and Songwriters Only want the same thing. They want Someone who sings When reading the words they’ve written. The only tragedy is Missed Opportunity: With MY word collection and YOUR incredible musical talent, We could’ve made beautiful music together.
Five minutes of Observation Of Life Today, While simply being conscious, Makes me want to bury my consciousness deep within my subconsciousness, Elevate it, Or alter its state. Given The World Today, I must distract or even Intoxicate to be conscious For at least part of the day. Surely THAT’s okay, Given the state of Today?‘