Doors – A Haiku.

They speak truth when they tell you:

“Closing will open.”…

…in regard to Life’s hallway.

Gone.

Would you be,
any fonder of me,
if I suddenly chose,
to start listening?

Would you decide,
to more deeply confide,
the darkness behind,
your odd eccentricities?

Shall I unbind,
this heart of mine,
lay it down on your table,
where the other parts lie?

I suppose you’d prefer,
if I acted just like her:
if I loved co-dependently,
full-time, live-in “fluffer”;

If I leaned on you, heavily,
with intentions only pure?
a dead weight weighing down,
the coat-tails in your future;

Would you choose to diffuse again?
if I checked my levels of estrogen,
had my words been better chosen,
would I have someday been forgiven?

What if, instead of,
this twisted notion of “love”,
I recognized one evening,
the ill fit of your glove;

and the day soon arrives,
with my wide open eyes,
seeing things the way that I,
should’ve seen them, by and by;

all you’ll find is my trust,
blindly choking on my dust,
as you see me get smaller,
in the distance between us.

Display.

Image from we<3it.

This is what happens,
or, moreover: what can;
when a woman is broken,
by the hands of a man;

these are the facets,
that the light reflects through;
our many faces of torture,
that somehow still smile on queue;

we sit on display in a window,
it’s all that we know how to be;
like a sideshow in a circus,
to glimpse tells a million stories.

A scale that is constantly sliding
from and to either of its ends;
A timepiece of nature’s abiding,
until it balances us out once again.

You’ve got the innocent, young, and the most naïve,
next to the masochist who can’t get up from her knees;
you’ll see the ancient and calm; the kamikaze love-bomb,
the wise, archetypal matriarch and the shivering fawn.

We are each so different, while exactly the same
our memories are connected by torturous pain;
we’ve accepted and together we stand once again,
against the demons that left us with scars in our skin.

Display.

Image from we<3it.

This is what happens.
Or, moreover: what can;
when a woman is broken,
by the hands of a man;

these are the facets
that the light reflects through;
our many faces of torture,
that somehow still smile on que;

we sit on display in a window
it’s all that we know how to be;
like a sideshow in a traveling circus,
to glimpse us tells a million stories.

It’s a scale that is constantly sliding
tipping from and to either end;
unsure of which side that our weight will land,
until it balances itself out once again.

You’ve got the face of the innocent, young and naïve
aside of the broken down masochist, who can’t get up from her knees;
you’ll see the ancient and calm – next to the kamikaze lovebomb,
we have every archetypical matriarch and fawn, here for you to see.

We are each so different, yet exactly the same
our memories are singed with torturous pain;
yet we’ve accepted that we are each as much to blame,
as the demons that left us with scars in our skin.

Feelin’ Good.

it is over

“Fish in the sea, you know how I feel…?

river running free, you know how I feel…?

blossom on the tree, you know how I feel….?

its a new dawn, its a new day –

it’s a new life for me…

and I’m feelin’ good.

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don’t ya know?…

Butterflies all havin’ fun, you know what I mean…?

Sleep in peace when day is done, that’s what I mean…

and this old world is a new world –

and a bold world for me…

and I’m feelin’ good.”

Postcards From Freedom! *A Population Study*

POPULATION:     Not Enough.

POPULATION:
Not Enough.

Safety Meeting.

96AYTZjDRB

YOU know who YOU are:
I am speaking to YOU – Little Soldier…

YOU have no choice now, besides to trudge through; you have made it to the clearing, now all we have to do is get you across without incident and you, my friend, will finally be FREE.
You might have to suck up a few difficult things to swallow, though…none of the things that you possess matter, when it comes down to your LIFE. None of your huge and vast collections of things from the thirteen long years in between now and the last time that you were FREE make a fucking difference anymore, I hate to say…I struggled so hard and stupidly, blindly – – – with this factor when all was said and done and I look back in honesty at myself and why I never had what it took to get FREE. I was accidentally, on total fluke of nature, FREED, as a result of the tragic ending that YOU can foresee all too easily for yourself. I know that YOU can.
You “admire me”…my “strength and courage” and “bravery”…
Then HEAR ME when I say to you that you have the chance right now to be someone even more admirable than I could ever be: YOU can FREE yourself without being almost killed (any more than you already have been, at least). YOU can be the one who WALKS HERSELF OUT, UNINJURED to safety, to a FREE place where others can admire and look up to you for inspiration. It will be tenfold of anything that you think I stand for in the world of FREEDOM that you’ll shine brighter and longer, with a beam that reaches further.
THIS is MY plea to YOU, soldier…
DO NOT ALLOW THE THINGS YOU OWN TO OWN YOU…
Not a single one of those things is a fair trade for your survival, you are loved and supported and understood and appreciated out in the FREE WORLD already…that’s ALL YOU NEED to get up on your feet on the other side. I hope this message reaches you in your most open and willing state of mind…I hope you will let go of everything and anything that you need to let go of in order to come out and be FREE soon.
WE LOVE YOU.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEELA, Wherever you are, I LOVE and CELEBRATE YOU.

Throwback Thursday. What good memories...

Throwback Thursday.
What good memories…

Today is Tee’s (Teela Hart) birthday, and all that I know for sure is that she is able to celebrate it – ALIVE and IN FREEDOM somewhere safe and away from her Monster.

Fuck, that makes my heart feel so warm and repairable…I know you aren’t back to blogging yet Tee, but I just had to send out a birthday wish into the Universe for you – because you are my sister, always. And I am so very fucking happy that you’ve ensured yourself this birthday. TEARS of JOY.

Postcards from Freedom #6 – From Persia, With Love.

With Love, Bitches!

With Love, Bitches!

Postcards from Freedom #5 – Mommy’s Little Maximus.

He'll NEVER turn out like YOU.

He’ll NEVER turn out like YOU.

This postcard is one of a two part series – Persia will be sending her own out soon. The importance behind this particular postcard should be obvious – Persia has ensured her son Max’s freedom as well as her own. He will never grow up to be like his scary father. Much love from Freedom!!!

Postcards from Freedom #2 – We Be In The Tropics, Fuckhead.

We Be in the Tropics, Fuckhead.

We Be in the Tropics, Fuckhead.