I have been,

and hearing you…
your every cent or two,
every jerking move,
and yet you prove…
to somehow be,
totally and completely,
shocked to find…
blackened faces,
fill up the spaces,
between the lines…
Hello, big guy!
I will be fair,
I won’t deny,
through my grandeur…
what did,

appear and seem,
to be,
a valiant try…

for your part,
at least
but, then again,

it’s still just,
without compromise,
and really shouldn’t be,
such a novel thing,
that I’m not listening,
after so much,
of the go and touch…
the itchy sting,

fucking redundancy…
see the burning,
behind my eyes,
see the hatred,

please just let me be.
As, so it goes that,
eyes like mine,
chiseled by,
the passing time…

are not destined to see.

Ancient Proverbs – 33: Integrity and Manipulation.

“The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words. “

~Philip K. Dick


“If you don’t give education to people, it is easy to manipulate them.”



“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

~Abraham Lincoln


“Integrity is telling myself the truth. And honesty is telling the truth to other people.”

~Spencer Johnson


I have been listening
and hearing you
your every cent or two
every jerking move
and yet you prove
to somehow be
totally and completely
shocked to find
blackened faces
fill up the spaces
between the lines
Hello, big guy
I will be fair
I won’t deny
through such grandeur
what did indeed
appear and seemed
a valiant try
for your part
at least
but, then,surprise…
It’s still just me
without compromise
and shouldn’t be
such a novel thing
that I’m no Lady
after so much
of the go and touch
fucking redundancy
see the burning
behind my eyes
please just let me be
so it goes that
eyes like mine
are not destined to see.


pressed ‘n pleated,
pre-disposed and superseded,
but poorly heeded,
over-psychiatrically treated,
pin-up prose,
cake-layer completed,
centrally distributed,
locally re-heated,
nearly spewed,
swallowed up,
oh fuck – regurgitated,
won’t sit well,
if stacked up to,
the tried and true,
another epic fail,
shoddily fabricated,
horizontally situated,
systematically nauseated,
linguistically and verbally inebriated,
an atrocity,
a featherless Crane,
singed into the brain,
of the Herring,
a forsaken queen,
been busy,
out bone-collecting,
well beyond her means,
never satiated,
by her plundering,
blindly placated,
by the obsolete,
of the broken-spirited,
broken down,
rotted through,
to an army paraded,
beneath the sole of my shoe.


There’s a familiar
to the feelings
that I feel now –
like a surprise
Tomahawk Salute;
shocking somehow,
though in truth,
in all truth –
I’ve recognized you,
for a while anyhow;
the surprise,
it turns out –
lands squarely on
the victimizing brood;
you can’t fade me,
there’s no slowing –
no stopping these feet,
your colors are showing –
think quickly:
do you jump –
do you shoot –
are you feeling
half as lucky as me?
So don’t hesitate,
do not stop to consider things –
now’s not the time
for sentimentality.

Ummmm, Maybe You’re Just a Self-Absorbed Bitch…

ANYONE who reads my stuff knows good and well that I’m not, and NEVER HAVE BEEN on the “Trigger Train”, and don’t apologize for my lack of the huge billboard at the front of each post that warns potential readers about “triggers” inside…so,shoot me. I’ve always felt like we’re all adults here – if you read something you feel uncomfortable about…gtfo…it really is that simple. It works in my case, also. SIMPLE.

But nothing can EVER just be simple, I guess…

Today, I have been bombarded with private reactions and responses surrounding the piece called ‘Over’ that I posted on my blog.

Wink Wink to my girls who would’ve, naturally, instantly feel the energies that I conveyed through this particular ink of mine (and did).


Domestic Violence is a topic that hits me right in the safe haven of “Home”; even so long since the last time I had any part of it. I know firsthand how very REAL it is, and how widespread and socially enabled it’s murderous and terroristic stronghold has remained, while our species makes such huge strides in every other area, it seems. Domestic Captivity, Bullying, Terroristic Behaviors, Financial & Psychological Manipulation techniques such as ‘Gaslighting’ are all different elements of Abuse that define my own traumatic experience as a Survivor of near-fatal violence

My intention behind this ink had been to make a written post along with it, in the spirit of the general message I was trying to express (I am not an artist, and I only create images as a means of therapeutic relief – so they often do not necessarily depict a real circumstance: they are 80% visually or verbally metaphoric. My inks are embedded with symbols and words that harbor meaning to me at the time that I made them; and some are as old as the gold where my lower-right bicuspid once was…pretty damned old).

It was late; and I was doing the “high speed wobbles” in front of my keyboard, and eventually knocked out – sitting up… once again. FML

Anyway – – – The second half of the ink’s message was the driving force behind any emphasis that I was meaning to put out there into the blogosphere, if any at all: Domestic Captivity is OVER for ME…but JUST me, and that’s NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

WTF did it take for my captivity to be “over, anyway? It’s not as if I literally just woke up morning, wrapped a blanket around my broken body, busted out of my chains, and walked slowly away – even stopping to look back, ponderously… come on!!! I am sorry that upset some of the people who read my blog or happened to see my artwork (of MYSELF, by the way: the blonde, boy hair gives it away every time!)…I was by no means rubbing my freedom and survival in anyone’s face, especially if they are still unable to claim this freedom from Domestic Abuse and Captivity…THAT IS NOT MY STYLE AT ALL. If that is what you perceived somehow, all I can do is tell you that perception is inaccurate and apologize for any confusion surrounding the intentions of, and/or meaning behind – the piece of artwork that I posted last night called “Over.”

In real-time, I’m not a talker – I’m a doer; I’m not going to go on and on about this topic but I will close this up by reminding anyone who happens to be reading this of something crucial to any type of understanding between the writer and reader:

I’m NOT here to hurt anyone or play fucked up sociopathic online Blogger head games; that said, I am also NOT here to gain approval or head nods from a single one of you – – – (admittedly though, the comradery that I have here with a handful of kindred spirits DOES carry a certain level of weight with me, but oddly not a single ONE of those people had any kind of issue with “Over.”)