The Salt From Tears

THE SALT IN TEARS

Tears are important, too.

When I travel down a deep dark tunnel into a fathomless black hole of despair, I rely on my tears to remind me
I’m still a soul,
sitting in a body,
feeling sad right now.

Tears anchor and tether me; both are equally salvationary.

The Tragic Life of a Leaf 🍃 🍁


The Tragic Life of a Leaf

You start out green and new, as a brand new shoot, nurtured by a Loving Mother Tree, and surrounded by lush, growing sibling leaves all
In relative, naive Harmony.
You mature and grow into The Most Beautiful Version of Yourself, peaking a little too early, given the length of your Life Cycle.

After you’ve served Your Purpose (you were never told what it was), your kindly mother turns on you;
Once she nurtured you, watered you, and warmed you by sunlight.
You were whole and thriving and complete.
Now, She cuts off these vital nutrients.
All of a sudden, you’re given no light, no food, no water.
And no answers about WHY.
Your sibling leaves are going through a similar situation,
So they are of very little use to you.
Frankly, they’re every bit as confused as you.
You slowly starve and dry up until you’re officially “desiccated.”
Then, the Mother Tree drops you.
The winds of change blow you onto a completely random path,
forcing you to intermingle with leaves you don’t even know,
Making one last splash as “fall foliage,”
Which you don’t even enjoy because you look so differently than you did in your prime , you barely recognize yourself anymore.

The next thing you know, you’re 5 miles down the road, in a Stranger’s yard (not even a nice one),
Being raked into giant piles and stuffed into suffocating black garbage bags,
Kicked to the curb to ferment a little while, and then
Carted off by some rather grubby-looking men to be burned and cremated.

By that point, you welcome it.

THE POETIC SOUL

THE POETIC SOUL: DO WE ALL HAVE ONE?

It amazes me how the human body speaks in Metaphor.

Body language experts pick out metaphorical micro gestures all the time.

We shrug our shoulders as if shrugging off weight,
We shake our heads NO when we’re audibly saying YES,
We smirk with Dupers Delight,
We release protracted sighs of exhaustion and frustration,
And some murderers even cover the corpses they leave behind (like trash) as if erasing their evil acts.

My conclusion to all this useless information?
Stated nonverbally:
We’re hard-wired for Poetry.

Not Much In Common: Am I Dead inside?

NOT MUCH IN COMMON

The people I have the least in common with are the ones who have no sense of their own mortality.

They always think there’s a better time and place for everything, never realizing they could be dead in an hour.

This realization, once realized, can’t NOT alter one’s entire perspective on life – as well as death.

Sometimes I over-correct with Karaoke, but that’s all it is: Overcorrecting.

Like buying a cheap goldfish
to repopulate the waters of Nagasaki.

Does that mean I’m a zombie?
If so, watch out… because I’ll eat you!
I’m highly opportunistic; as hardy and resourceful as a cockroach!

How do you think I’ve Survived this entire time?

About My Own Traumas: Regarding God

ABOUT GOD & PERSONAL TRAUMA

The Answers are Clear,
And All are found Here.

While I may not understand
I still believe in God You see,
For He’s the Sole & Only Man
Who still loves me as I am.

I appreciate your generosity,
Sympathy & Poetic Empathy,
But it’s taking more time for me
Because I lost Absolutely
All And Everything.

I hope you know I still believe,
But don’t expect To Receive
Much of hollow Anything
Since both hidden
Comfort and Relief
I’ve Found are somehow
Lost to me.

HER CONSUMING MISTAKE

My Softer Side has been spent,
Ejected and Torn from me;
Completely rent,
Ripped, empty, hollow, gone.

Once gladly I gushed on and on
And on and on.
Are my bursts and fits and starts
Of Joy missed by Some or Anyone?

Or am I The One who got it wrong
For far too Short
And Way too long?
The one who Sang the same old songs
Hesitantly; her voice not strong?

Once Bright against Life’s Monochrome,
Now concealed, she Fades to Gray
And Color is the Distant World
Whose distance is so very long;

Far Enough to make its
Occasional Occupations
Available To Girls
On Lists
Pared to be spare,
Sparse, and dense,
Condensed, Abridged;
Basically “not long”.

First of all:
This is Wrong.
Secondly:
Who belongs
In Homes which house a Girl
Dropped by All and
On her Own?

Lastly, did she deserve her Drowning?
Her Public Downing?
Into Gutters, where
Parts of What She Used To Be
Cough and Sputter;
The Only Bursts of Life Her corpse,
Which rots itself of Flesh and Bone
To sound the News;
The Final Rattle Shaken
And Death the Victor in this Battle?

Her Precious Essence was Stolen, Taken
Forcefully, leaving Her Remains Undiscovered;
Essentially forsaken,
Left to Catch the Tears Alone
That signaled she was breaking.

No Saviors Saved,
All certain she was faking.
Her Flaws like fleas, All could see
Hopping, Jumping, Raking,
Dragging her against hot coals
For reasons of mistaking
SELF-Concern for Her-Concern:

THIS Mistake,
In the End,
Consumed HER for ITs making.

RECIPE FOR A POETIC SOUL


I. MUST BE

•Fully right-brain
•Fully left-brain
•Overly-Sensitive to Light
•Unafraid of the Dark

II. MUST POSSESS

1. A PAST Littered With:
•Mistakes
•Traumas
•Regrets
•Memories of Extasy

2. A PRESENT Marked By:
•Pervasive, Persistent Longing
•Innumerable Unmet Needs
•Building Frustration
•Mounting Tension
•Growing Childishness, and an
•Increasing Focus Inwards.

3. A FUTURE Colored by:
•Tides not Turning
•Limited Options
•Fear and Loathing Everywhere
•Faded Beauty, and
•An Inability to Dream Anymore

III: MUST HAVE

•Broad Vocabulary
•Limited Resources
•Hungry Heart
•Thirsty Soul

BAKE FOR AT LEAST 25 YEARS IN TEMPS AS HOT AS HELL (or 900 degrees, to be safe).

Why I Keep Doing It

MAKING SNARKY COMMENTS ON YOUTUBE ABOUT THE BIG DEFAMATION TRIAL

The only reason I keep making snarky comments on YouTube is because the case:

KEEPS GIVING ME SNARKY THOUGHTS!!

I didn’t Ask to Think them! I’ve made my Position on Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy perfectly clear.

In fact, if you knew HOW SNARKY these RELENTLESSLY SNARKY thoughts actually are,

You’d admire My Restraint.

Seeking Spiritual Enlightenment

I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m terribly Spiritually Provincial and Uncosmopolitan, since I was never Force-Exposed to anything other than Christianity. Please keep that in mind if you actually read this.

I’ve now spent thousands of years on this planet – most as Christian, many as Confused; all Conflicted. Guess which Me knows The Wholehearted Truth?

It’s Anyone’s Guess.

But here’s the thing I like about Jesus, at least the one born in Israel, Judah, or Palestine [it’s confusing!] approximately 2000 years ago:

You can’t argue he was a True Believer.

I don’t know about the other Big Dudes – Mohammed, The Buddha, Confucius, L. Ron Hubbard, and Mary Baker Eddy – but were any of them CRUCIFIED for Their Whacked-Out Beliefs At The Time? I’m pretty sure LRH and Mary Baker Eddy weren’t, though if HE had to see a psychiatrist and SHE had to see a doctor first, I can guarantee NEITHER was crucified!

At least in this lifetime. Oh damn, is this going to get me labeled a “Suppressive Person”? I don’t need the Public Excoriation at the moment. And I can’t afford to believe anything too expensive!

Anyway, I honestly don’t know about the other Big Religions, and I’d rather ask You than Siri. You know how literal she can be, and I don’t have the patience to word The Question in Sirian.

PS. I momentarily considered Jim Jones and David Koresh, but decided if you take Unwilling Sacrifices out with you, you don’t qualify for “True Believer” status.

Though I’m pretty sure it’s okay to release a few Thetans first.

(Image courtesy of @eliapelle)

BILE RISING

Thoughts of Sweetness make me feel Sick to My Stomach, Pained in My Heart, and Intolerably Dark today.

This combination is only Enhanced by the flood of Bile and Hatred currently Rising,

Resulting in these pesky digestion sounds I hear.

Though of course I haven’t eaten all day! I’m always forgetting to eat. My Empty Stomach makes it even Sicker.

Thank Goodness!

Rest Assured: I won’t be Happy until You’re Half as Miserable as I Am.

————————————————

Welcome to My Head once I perfected a “Thought-Stopping” Exercise I learned last year. I finally realized how/why I got Cancer twice by aged 45. And perhaps all that pain medicine was numbing more than physical pain?

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy 💩

It may be effective for some, but I think it’s a load of crap!

At least the way the FATHER of CBT [Albert Ellis, the old perv] describes it:

By changing what you CHOOSE to THINK, How You FEEL will naturally change in direct proportion. Think Happy Thoughts and You’ll Feel Happy!

See why I think it’s a load of bullshit?!

I don’t know about YOU, but I’ve never been IN CONTROL of what I think and feel!

In fact, I’d say the REVERSE is what THINKS and FEELS more like Truth, at least deep within MY heartmind!

TODAY! Again, 0 promises about ANYTHING >= 5 minutes from now.

Good thing I don’t have a Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy Appointment I have to run off to, because I’d definitely have to SKIP IT…

Straight into the Garbage Can!

Along with my all my other Discarded Old Lovers!

Where they belong❣️

P.S. I don’t intend to STOP documenting This Incipient Madness until I’ve fulfilled ANY and ALL claims of INSANITY‼️

So long as long as they’re submitted within the next 5 minutes. After that, all Whiffs of Craziness must depart; I don’t want them around if/when Sanity comes back.

PLUMB YOUR DEPTHS

When I plumb depths, they terrify.
I’ve glimpsed into the Hells I Hide.
Secrets lurk so Dark Inside,
Monsters, Pain, and Anguish, too;
The Empty Void Awaiting You

Won’t be avoided; Screams,
“Reflection!”,
Can’t escape a Soul’s Infection
Eating from Your Sharpest Place.
This Yawing, Grasping, Clutching Space
Demands Bestowal with a Name.
You call it “Evil”; That’s in Vain

Because you’re not that Bad!
Mistakes Aplenty Lives should have;
They reinforce a Search Within,
A Search, well-sought, yields Many Gifts.

Confrontation is the only Glue,
Beams the Shine and Lights the View
And makes the Search less scary, too.

(Thanks to DDP for the photo)

A TASTE OF IT

I may be smart but really dumb
At MY age to sign up to Run
And Chase You and other Sons-of-Guns
Who want to house me Under Thumb.

It’s time I find Myself a Clue,
And Get the Hell AWAY from You!

I’ll hold Myself both Tall and Free.
Newly Freed, I’m Free Indeed,
Bursting with the Fully Free
Freedom Only Found in Me.


(Thanks to @nicholasampson for the photo)

FRIENDS GET HARD TO MAKE!

One Lesson I have Learned with age?
Friends get Really Hard to Make!

Take Sacred Bonds for Granted?
You’ll cry Nights Alone and Stranded

With no Friend to Catch your Tears;
Friends get Scarce with Passing Years.

When you have a Dearth of Them,
[Boyfriends – a whole Earth of Them!]
Which Ties are the Preciousest?

Those who clearly, dearly, yearly, and most sincerely
Truly Want What’s Best for Us❣️

Thanks for the perfect photo, @hannahbusing).