Come out, Come out, Where ever you are..?

on By 2 Comments

Come out, Come out, Where ever you are..? I lay here and think… Where are you really? Under a rock? Behind a tree? Out of orbit? Globe trotting planet Me..? I can see your lost. Written all over your face. My own body I quickly steady to readily embrace. A stare down in the mirror. Focus. Lose focus. No single tear around here. Sobbing. Snotty.  I stare down this lost scared little girl glare. Come back to me. Come back to me. I hear. Spirit broken. Then stolen long ago. Running around here empty. A ghost of a soul. Fear has run almost everyone out. Compassion holds strong. A personally composed love song. The inner workings of me strung ever so gently.. The avenue which God has blessed me with to carry me through. Oh what a quest. The smallest realizations that the physical body is simply my sacred nest. Complicated encoded in another language from a dialect like no other seen before. More advanced than hieroglyphics in stereo. I decoded in minutes time. Me I am my penance. We are in the matrix here and now. Just a matter of opening the right door. Narrow. UN·wide. Wrong way no more. Turn the knob. Just choose a door. Door number one. Door number two. Door number three. A googolplex of doors surrounds me. Fear freezes me. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Time waits for know one. Am I then someone? I open my eyes. Squinting. Everything so bright. Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I have committed murder in the third degree. My feelings of shame and loss of ego asks that you forgive me so I can move forward purely. Third or first it’s all the same. Cows slaughtered for my selfish fillets. Fear and pain they too feel. A pricey piece of veal. KILL KILL KILL. A deadly virus thought to be a needed program. Administrating the same result. Perpetuated murder. I reek of death. By conscious consumption. I understand pain. It’s taken over me tired with no energy fruit and vegetables. Nuts and beans. Vitamins and weed. Grown from the ground. Reacting to sound. My heartstrings tugged. No murder to take place. Heard it all a thousand times before. Dropping weight. Constant headaches. Discomfort confirms change. Change confirms growth = ↑up (= that much closer to GOD) So, many questions that no longer conform to the standard application carried by most. I upgraded my software, purchased my domain name and switched my host. I don’t want to live lost in my body forever. Haunted by my own ghost. I’m afraid to die in vain. I must open myself to change. Truly figure out a way to sustain for my remainder of time allotted to this short existence of time that shall determine my “true value and worthiness” on judgment day passed onto me for my choices while here in true purgatory every test perfectly placed and designed for etra•ordinary me by Divinity.

Conclusion: Mans best friend if I had to would I eat?

A: NO. Not ever.

Ron Artest – “Champions” (via PROLIFIK-ONE)

on By

Ron Artest is one funny guy. lol is all I can do.

Some of you may remember how off Ron Artest was with his flow. If you don't know what I mean, check out his Michael Jackson tribute after MJ's passing, pretty damn horrible

But Ron is back with something new. In celebration of his first NBA ring, he recorded a new track called "Champions" I can't lie, Ron came through correct with this song, it might not be the best song out there for an NBA st … Read More

via PROLIFIK-ONE

Broken system: They refer to as HELP: Psychatrist, Therapist, Psycologist, Counselor, Psychotherapist, Social Worker, Shrink.

on By 1 Comment

Therapy is crazy expensive! With no insurance (like most of us) and even with it’s an anxiety attack all on its own. Continuously checking your watch.. 20 minutes left… have not even told a fraction of your story. Irritated by this shrinks instant comfort in believing they have me so quickly figured out. Jotting notes, referencing their own families and life experiences with particular medications.. Looks of judgments conflict with confusion. Twenty more minutes deducted. Who’s really helping who? When I’m the one paying you..? Bills upon bills continue to weigh me —–down↓ I continue to listen.. Only eleven minutes left.. As I tear out a rubber check. You grab your all you know to do prescription pad… A blank stare. A scribble a scratch. I’ve been down this road before. My hours up. I’m shown the door. So… with all that. My life locked in a strangers concrete office… is not enough. All they got for me, Another bottle of pills that are the true killer of this disease. There the Dr. with the paper certificate on the wall for proof. Sixty minutes later and *POOF* my story shelved for reasons of financial strain. My heart must continue to find away to go on with this magnitude of  wretched pain. So keep your refills for all these pills. I got my own pharmacy. I can diagnose you for free. By just truly listening and my own personal life experiences. A worm hole into your pain intensely fills my veins with your infested DNA. Empathy brings us back. I’ll help you up. Won’t let you crack. God and compassion got your back. Your therapy’s within you. Trust me, Only you can complete you. I agree, “Ron Artest” makes the psychology thing look real good. Championships and happiness. Along way from the hood. Yes, I agree he’s done real good. However, his psychologist’s not going to break his bank. It’s more of a chit chat session. A meditation for what was at stake. A breather of sorts. An extra curricular activity.. something fit in on Thursdays at three… So, you see… know your position. I continue to preach. If your steady counting the minutes, clammy hands and anxiety that it’s almost time to go.. same night, pockets lighter and still having to do your usual pick yourself up off the floor, popping pills  on an empty stomach do to no food do to paying your therapist… with no help from your state insurance that ran out aka never exist-ed in the first place. So you wonder why your filled with rage..? On your way home from your session counting change to see if you can afford a gallon maybe two for your always empty tank. Your past due bills soon await you right behind your front door. Your once sanctuary now imprisonment from bill collectors, census workers, probation officers and nosy neighbors. Checking sofa cushions for any extra change, pockets from winter coats and book pages for that special rainy day. For today’s that day. In order to schedule that next Dr. visit need another hundred and fifty bucks. But then again if I can come up with half. They may be able to squeeze in a phone consultation!!! Oh oops that’s just as soon as they return from there much-needed vacation.

CONCLUSION: See about yourself. (UNLESS) Your Ron Artest and you can have a prearranged paid up weekly chat visit scheduled a year in advance. Still it does not really change… Sign here sign there, In and out and on with your day.

To answer the #1 question I have received the most.

on By

Q♥ Why did I start this blog?

A♥ This is a way for me to stay true to myself while confronting my situation•life head on with the support of the world and guidance from God. I will play this hand I’ve been dealt. I will not fold my hand. I am ALL IN. My prayer is that my most personal memoirs can in somehow someway warm your heart and bring a smile to your face today.

Highly flammable

on By 1 Comment

The air is thick. Awkwardness remains UNstable. Tension on the rise. Cry out of frustration. On overflow. Highly flammable. A little unsure of how I should play this hand or take an easier route. No bluff. Stone cold. Just fold all cards in hand. Rage settles from raw emotions. Exasperated from the dramatics. Self centered fanatics. Can’t believe I’m writing about this. Running on a quart tank. High octane. At any moment I could ignite. Tension like this would make anyone consider the option of taking flight. Away from the madness. Depression and sadness. Pent up feelings of how you truly feel. Passing on these feelings through random lines and mail. Chit Chat. You won’t believe what happened in the spat!?! I will not engage. I’m burnt the hell out. Take the childlike-ness to another room and by the way.. Keep my name out your mouth. This is all crazy. Entrusted loves. Information on lock-down. Strictly on a need to know basis.