I can be like a hound dog, occasionally distracted by attractive scents, sniffing successfully until something redirects me.
Abuse Is Not Just “Being Harsh”
Harsh, that's what my mother's generation called verbal abuse. Harshness. Harsh meant you could be spoken to however the adult wished.
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
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
An Open Letter From Cathy O’Brien
TRUTH EVOLUTION "My name is Cathy O'Brien. Mark Phillips and I are 25 year veteran US Government Whistleblowers on the subject of mind control and healing from it. Mind control is a sliding scale from the kind of robotic MK Ultra mind control I endured during the Reagan-Bush Administration to mass mind control social engineering … Continue reading An Open Letter From Cathy O’Brien
The Original One wavers, lazily sleeping, snacking and avoiding. Might I silence the fire, burning and buzzing in the spine? We run into the trails, avoiding the undergrowth of tree roots pushing their way through the ground. We grab at leafy branches. She’s an avalanche avoiding her own rubble. Sideways in the gradients lingering around … Continue reading Abstract Aberration
This Day Always Leaves Lumps In the Throats of Some
I am recalled to this video piece, Throat Lumps, linked below, from my poetry book, Dusted Shelves, that on days which celebrate the essence of love, my heart sits silently with the unloved; the child who has never felt a hug, the ones neglected and the humans dejected by lack of connection or touch. Don't … Continue reading This Day Always Leaves Lumps In the Throats of Some
A Letter To the Defense
I think you hate me because you can't break me.
She Did the Worst She Knew How
I said I wasn't going to think about you this weekend; that I would shut my eyes and turn off electronics, stay off the streets where men are selling flowers out of buckets, but here I am. I've been here days, weeks, just a mere ten minute drive away from your gravestone, the one I … Continue reading She Did the Worst She Knew How
What does my face Look like when I cry? Un-pretty, swollen Blood red eyes. I am five again, And he is bigger Than a mountain. I am vulnerably In blood shame. I am a little girl Naive and helpless, But I am not her Not anymore, So how do I Let her go? She is … Continue reading Blood Shame
Broken Until Spoken
This was not an easy photo for me to do this morning. I cried. It hurt to take. I was swept back to being a five year old child, mouth taped so often to train me to be silent, just like this, except it was white packing tape, so even more humiliating as I couldn't … Continue reading Broken Until Spoken
You must be logged in to post a comment.