PTSD

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Caroline Gates

What has become of my unshed tears

Do they remain within, fossilized and mute?

I claw futilely at my wrists wishing that I could

Pluck them free as if a quill or a splinter

Yet they remain ripping holes in all my dreams

*

There is loneliness in futility

In the relentless casting of soiled dress

I’ve been too long a daughter

What emergency now remains

That I should be obliged to exit?

I can assure myself of a pulse

And yet life still does not carry on

For I have not been trained in life

Only in the alternate, survival 

*

I also wrote a poem at Curious Scribbles today and another group of short poems I was going to post but then I wrote this and decided to go with this

Caramel

surreal-photography-kylli-sparre-10

Kylli Sparre

My eyes ride deeper

Into their sockets

An exodus from the mundane?

Or an inclination toward delirium?

My brain transposes in crayon

I’ve never once visited

The Prime Material Plane

They say it’s inhabited

By the shells of my ancestors

*

Is it okay to remain “not quite”?

Not quite there

Not quite human

Not quite right

Not quite good enough

*

I peel the caramelized edges

From your smile

There are moments

When life is indigestibly sweet

And moments when every fruit proffered

Is naught but seeds and rind.

In defeat there is always the chance

For existential growth

If a bottom

Than a sky, silver-lined

*

I’ve a complicated relationship with society

When I was young and in school

My teachers complimented my wisdom

People often ask me how to live

(I’ve given a lot of unusable advice)

How the the hell should I know?

Technically I’m crazy

*

The Prime Material Plane is the one we live in

I don’t find it strange that people confide in me but that they seek my counsel is rather strange considering 😛 I think it goes to show we all have influence.

Swan

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Ray Caesar

I am the slick void

Of an unsought retreat

My lips form a horizon

The red litmus

Of a fractured sun stalling

Clouds bate with honey

And hold in tempest

*

I speak of the spirit only

For my flesh

Is mystically detached

My roots prey

In black water

Unseen and unsound

*

Truth lies adjacent

To humiliation

As soon as I stand upright

The ground splits beneath

Am I strong enough to face

Perpetual uncertainty?

*

There are too many pauses

In my composition

Quantum physics has made

Everything possible

And simultaneously indefinite

Today I am a hunchback

Tomorrow I’ll be a swan

Hope is always grandiose

*

Anyone who read yesterday’s post at Curious Flowers is aware that I have been diagnosed with PNES most likely related to some form of dissociative disorder. I still have to be evaluated for a dissociative disorder but it seems quite likely. I just received a response from my mom which was very sweet. A quote from her email “I look at you and see what I would like to be” I don’t think she means the PNES part of course.

Post-It 2

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Cramped conversations

Penned onto neon squares

Missives of domesticity 

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Yes there is another poem on my blog called Post-It. I wrote this one some time ago but I couldn’t remember if I’d shared it (a quick search suggests I haven’t). After the massive heavy posts I’ve been publishing I figured we could all use a breather haha Don’t bother counting it isn’t a haiku though it reads that way. I decided to discuss my trip to the Neurologist over at Curious Flowers

Are you afraid of the dark?

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One of the most frequent questions and perhaps the major complaint I receive on my blog regards the dark subject matter. Though I have addressed this topic on various occasions I thought I’d write a post that prowess-willing I can add as a page to my blog so that when the question arises again I will be prepared.

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First I want to preface by saying that I believe man is essentially good (albeit confused). I am the type of person who sees beauty in others even when they cannot find it within themselves. I am the type of person who, after some grumbling, looks for the lessons in my day to day challenges.

*

Some time ago my 6 year old daughter started lying. I was concerned. I asked myself the usual questions. Have I exaggerated in the recounting of events? Have I kept my promises? Has there been any disparity between my words and actions? I believe children are mirrors so it was only natural that I should reflect on my own behavior before evaluating hers. I was concerned that her lying might escalate, concerned that it might lead to additional behavior problems. My experience with children is limited and thus I lack reference. While a lack of reference helps me to view her as an individual and encourages conversation it can also be a little unnerving flying by the seat of my pants all the time. I did some research on the lying situation and found that children in her age group lie frequently. I had already deduced that it could be a plea for attention/recognition. I’d also figured out that it was part of a natural rebellious urge essential to her developing a sense of autonomy. I learned that it is also a sign that she is developing the ability to distinguish between right and wrong. Generally we think of lying as a negative trait and a sign of moral deficiency but as I learned it is developmentally relevant. Lying can be innocent and it can also be a skill essential for survival. Though I don’t condone lying generally speaking we can all think of instances when we’ve used lies to protect other people (even at the expense of making ourselves look villainous).

*

Growing up in an abusive household much of my life was a secret. Like many abused children I blamed myself for the actions of my caretakers. I grew to hate myself on a very fundamental level. As I got older I saw my negative traits as a sign of evil. I feared that I would become my father. So I set very strict rules on my conduct, rules that were fanatically perfectionistic and impossible to follow. I emulated other girls hoping to circumvent my tainted DNA. I actively repressed all that I viewed as “bad” and did my best to manufacture health and wellness. In high school I realized that by repressing my perceived flaws that I was diminishing my self-awareness without self-awareness I would repeat the cycle of abuse. If I did not become my father I would surely end up surrounded by abusers. I came to the conclusion that the only way I was going to heal was to drag my wounded heart into the light.

*

In the 9th grade I began studying Buddhism and I learned that the only way to change was through self-acceptance. I knew that I couldn’t achieve self-acceptance by looking only at those traits that I found inoffensive. I knew that I had to look at every aspect of my nature and at human nature as a whole. I knew that I could no longer allow fear to silence and dictate my life. I also learned that nothing is black and white. Up until that point I had been extremely judgmental of myself and others. I learned that compassion is forged through suffering. I learned that gratitude is forged through adversity. Challenging oneself is essential to growth. Failure is essential to success. Sadness allows us to experience genuine happiness. Perfection is an illusion. I learned that you can’t trust other people without developing first an honest and open relationship with yourself. I learned that so-called flaws are essential to authenticity and beauty. I learned fear leads to violence. I learned that denial leads to injustice. I learned that abuse thrives under conditions of repression and secrecy. I learned that wherever you are in life is where you begin, you don’t become good after you’ve gone to Heaven (personally I believe in reincarnation this is just an analogy?).

*

In a quest for happiness many people attempt to control and tailor their environments. In Pema’s Chödrön’s book Comfortable with Uncertainty she talks about how monks create an artificial environment so that they can more easily manufacture a sense of peace. Rather than move up the mountain and away from the temptations one must move down the mountain and face life head on. Only by facing reality can we achieve any real meaningful sense of peace and happiness. That said I am not suggesting that you deliberately put yourself in harms way or that you remain in dangerous or abusive situations quite the contrary. I also realize that retreat is also essential to our well-being and that sometimes we do need to surround ourselves with uplifting and positive energy. What I am saying is that getting to know yourself is a lifelong process. What I am saying is that one cannot live a full life from inside of a cocoon. What I am saying is that many of the problems facing society are a result of voluntary blindness. For me balance comes from following your heart and trusting in the Tao. 

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Through my writing I tackle issues that challenge me. I look at human nature and on occasion I explore aspects of the human psyche that make others (myself included) recoil. I do my best to avoid acting, I try to present myself without a shiny veneer. Many of my poems contain an underlying sense of hope. Many of my poems are deeply introspective and thus hit upon sensitive topics. When I write I look at the areas where I am stuck. I look at my fears, at my demons, at my weaknesses, at my misunderstandings. Though I may come off as a negative person I am not in truth. My life, though at times challenging (thankfully!), is good. I have a beautiful daughter, a loving husband, a dream in my heart, I am not wanting for food (okay I do love food so I am always wanting but it is available), possession-wise I have a few books on my wish list but nothing else besides. Yes I have Epilepsy, no we don’t yet have a permanent residence, yes I have some mental health issues but I can look at my life and see the good. So much of what I’ve wanted I’ve done. I am now in the unsettling stage of expansion where I am attempting, quite inelegantly, to let my barriers down that I might invite the world in and assume more responsibility. Gratitude is something I practice every single day. 

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It is not completely inaccurate to call me an Anarchist because I believe dissension is necessary and I have a lot of issues with the government and healthcare system that I won’t go into now. Rather than turn a blind eye to suffering and injustice we’ve got to speak out and fight. My pen is my weapon of choice. As you can surely deduce from my current life situation I am in a good place. I am not surrounding myself with darkness and negativity. I am not seeking out misery and drama. I am pursuing life and life embodies a variety of emotional experiences.

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I like reading/listening/watching things that make me think, that stir me to my very core, to me that is art. I’ve been told that my poetry exposes the reader. I try to write in such a way as to encourage personal inquiry and interpretation. I do write in a very invasive manner, I am a very intense individual. I do have positive, uplifting, philosophical pieces on my blog (at least I think so) and they are understandably more popular. I even write love poems of the warm and fuzzy variety. I realize that the content of my blog is abstract and often emotionally charged and thus it does not suit everyone’s taste or mood. This is who I am and how I write and when visiting my blog I ask only that you come as you are. I have been told that I am disconcertingly honest. I’ve started to see the “human” in myself I suppose and the humanity within us all. I figure if I can own being human it might in some small measure help others to accept themselves. Am I eccentric? You better believe it and I am fine with that.

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On another note I will be out of town today meeting with my Neurologist. It may be that Tuesday will be a reblog day (as you know I write my posts the day before so I can reflect on them before publishing). I will try to convince Sam to post a little note if for some reason I should be held up in the hospital. I do have some health issues at the moment though I think it very unlikely they would keep me. I wrote a short poem for Curious Flowers haha

Prompt 45 Festering Jealousy

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By: Sammy Slabbinck

Jealousy isn’t an emotion we like to discuss much less acknowledge but most of us have experienced it. We’ve been subjected to the jealousy of others and we’ve experienced the painful insecurities that engender it.

I don’t have siblings of my own but I was a little competitive with my closest cousins for some siblings rivalry can take a very dramatic/tragic turn. I had a friend who felt so inferior to her older sister that it destroyed her from the inside.

There is romantic jealousy sometimes based on actual events/behaviors sometimes completely irrational

Friends can experience jealousy and in adolescence competition over sexual and romantic interests is common.

Sometimes people idolize or obsess over a celebrity, authority, or popular person

Pageants and other types of competitions or sports are also something to consider

For this prompt feel free to write a fictional piece that way you can really exaggerate the experience

Prompt 44 Immobilizing Paronoia

caras-1Caras Ionut

This week’s prompt is immobilizing paranoia. Having Social Anxiety Disorder I am entirely too familiar with this state. It starts innocuously enough with me glamorizing an impending social event. I always imagine it going well with me having various opportunities to “impress” and/or “connect”. When my imagination takes a supernatural and/or heroic turn I try to ground myself with more realistic depictions. My rehearsals invariably take a negative turn where I envision vivid rejection scenarios. Hurt by the rejection I become angry. I haven’t even stepped foot outside my house and I am screaming and in tears. The person is obviously a monster who delights in torturing me! Why else would they invite me out only to reject and humiliate me?! It’s no wonder that after a few hours or days of this I become so terrified of the impending engagement that I cancel my plans altogether. This doesn’t just happen when meeting friends or potential friends. I get equally worked up at the prospect of meeting family and healthcare professionals. Even talking to my mom on Skype is an agonizing prospect as I imagine her asking questions I’d rather not answer (How much do you weigh? Is a question she seems to prioritize over How are you? Perhaps they are synonymous?). Though I am getting a little bit better at managing these self-defeating and offensive thoughts I still retain that sense of overwhelming anxiety (sometimes conversely I am socially engaging and confident but that is rare mode indeed haha). I associate this feeling with the fear of failure/rejection and I think most of can relate to that fear. I also think many of us have let a fear get the better of us. Substance abuse can also induce paranoia as can mental and physical illnesses. (8)

What’s in a name? (short story almost 500 words)

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Art By: Grosnus depiction of The Nameless One

Death comes daily but without banishment. The streets are overrun with cadavers. Man has achieved immortality but it is not the blessing vacuously conceived.

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Slayer of the Undead” “Scythe Wielder” “Mercenary of Charon” “Sweeper” Titles coined but not carried. The official name of my faction is “The Immaculate”. To join one must be alive and genetically unmodified. As the aforementioned names crudely indicate I am or at least I was a Reaper.

*

My faction refers to the Undead as “Deadseed” for their inability to reproduce viable offspring. Every child born of a Deadseed is born without sentience or the capacity for animation. Proof that their kind is not meant to exist. “Mods”  “Godseed” “Immortals” “Children of Methuselah” “Axolotl” names affectionately forged by the populace, the majority of which are genetically altered.

*

Even for the so-called Immortals a day will come when nothing savable remains of their minds. Lunatics prowl the streets feasting on offal, nameless, and abhorred. Crematoriums run nightly that bodies might be conveniently “lost”. To dispose of an Immortal one has to destroy the shell entirely. I fed the furnace with my riotousness, my grey robes reeked of soot and burnt flesh. To my faction I was a hero. To the government I was a silencer and unbeknownst to the denizens I was a truth-slayer. Most people believe the demented street-dwelling Zombies to be a different and inferior version of man. I disposed of the bodies, the government of all traceable record. Brain-washing is common practice, humanity remains largely ignorant of consequence.

*

In the beginning I killed only the deranged corpses festering in the alleys without name or consignment but that any Deadseed should exist was to me unthinkable. I began eliminating wives, husbands, brothers, sisters high-functioning members of society. I became a murderer and a messiah simultaneously. I was doing God’s work or so I believed. I drew the wrath of both the denizens and the government and drove my faction to fanaticism.

*

The day I died was the day I became a hypocrite. My body awakened of its own accord, I was not of pure blood and by my own standards no longer human. Had I truly been a messiah I would have marched my sentient carcass to the Crematorium but my brush with death had put the fear in me. I didn’t want to be erased so I hid and so I remain hiding my brethren beating down the walls of my heart. “Judas” “Blasphemer” “Abomination”. How is it that a corpse can know such pain? 

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I wrote you a short-story influenced by Planescape Torment which I’ve been playing. Written with extreme haste in the early morning so I apologize for any mistakes!

Birdsong

fantasy-love-imagesFree Wallpaper By: Selly1 of Deviantart

In the hollows of your joined palms I perch

A cage that closes neither on departure nor return

A cage bereft the imposition of an artificial sky.

Your reception lends courage to my singularity

Without you there exists no inclination to song,

No dreams worth the risk of sustained flight

You ignite the angel within my presumed beast

*

The next few days I will be quite busy birthday parties and of course the fast-approaching increasingly terrifying visit to the Neurologist. I will write but if I am not able to complete a poem to my satisfaction I will reblog one of my lesser viewed poems in the very early days of my blog. I will of course post the prompt on Sunday but if it takes me a little longer to respond please don’t worry I will get there =) I wrote an accompanying piece on Curious Flowers not a poem but a little discussion on love haha