Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet.
Nighttime Haunts the Muscles
Tag: memories
It Starts Inside
We trauma survivors can have a little habit. Avoidance. I know. I’ve been there. For many years I burrowed myself into every other person and/or project that distracted my mind away from myself. I was so frightened by what I had to face in myself; the pain, the anger, the memories of a tortured childhood, … Continue reading It Starts Inside
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Healing Yourself Heals the World
I used to harbor a lot of hate toward my mother. Let me tell you something. Hate only hurts yourself and others. It is not a shield. It comes with no solutions. It is fueled by anger and should only be felt righteously; such as HATING child rapists. In my mind the only perspective I … Continue reading Healing Yourself Heals the World
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Skeletons Remain
Skeletons remain in the spaces beneath the pain. My brain becomes a seismograph of moving timelines and opportunities to rewind. I enter the dark caverns armed. This is no place for charm or niceties. This is a war to be fought by a single army. I am one with what was formed. I go quiet … Continue reading Skeletons Remain
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Redirection
I can be like a hound dog, occasionally distracted by attractive scents, sniffing successfully until something redirects me.
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Little House in the Big Woods
With no electricity or running water as a child, I read books until the candles wax was burned down.
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Underneath
Underneath the energy
Called skin I
Am weighted, a
Reinvented spawn of
Seeds processed through
Universal time.
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Motherless On Mother’s Day
by Vennie Kocsis I don't quite understand these constant holidays, dedicated to moms and dads and bunnies and love. I see them as marketing scams, a way to boost economy almost every month, by throwing in a Holiday. But hey, maybe I'm bitter. On these days I am reminded of my absent mother. See, not … Continue reading Motherless On Mother’s Day
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My Childhood Is a Graveyard of Ghosts
I wonder if my mother ever felt the rejection and pain of her children. Did she ever cry? I can't recall in this moment, ever seeing my mother cry. I wonder if she'd care that I love pictures of my family; to document moments of happy, because no one ever did that for me. I … Continue reading My Childhood Is a Graveyard of Ghosts
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The Current Tide
Tired Morose Flat This feels like An aftermath Of the rubble From a space shuttle I was never meant To depart from. Thinking of home I am a Universal vagabond With my heart strapped on; Ripped so many times There is no more lining For stitches, So I wrap it in twine Tie a knot … Continue reading The Current Tide
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Un-Acknowledged
What does it feel like To be a ghost shunned; A soul un-grieved, Un-missed and unforgiven? In the hovering bowels Of mysticism where the Cynics hang their hats, She waits to be Acknowledged. In these times there Is a satisfaction in this Inter-dimensional reaction; When spirit feels the wishing Just like we did When we … Continue reading Un-Acknowledged
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