
Popeye arms, but getting better

Popeye arms, but getting better
Maybe if I pretend I’m not breathing.
Maybe if I scream loud enough.
Maybe if I can get out of this room.
Maybe if I can get the clip away from him.
Maybe if I can tell him I need water.
Maybe if I can make it out the door.
Maybe I can make it to my friend’s house.
Maybe if I call the police they’ll protect me.
Maybe if I ducked fast enough I’d be okay.
Domestic violence isn’t funny. It doesn’t happen once. It terrorized me.
My things would come up missing only to be found burned in the back yard. I wasn’t allowed rest because of the mocking from outside my bedroom door that I had to put a lock on to keep him from raping me again. I couldn’t go to my friends without having to check in frequently to make sure I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate which I didn’t.
The first time he hit me was with both of his palms smacked into my shoulders pushing me backwards. I was so surprised that I didn’t respond. When he started going for the face, that was the most difficult. When he pulled the gun I’d gotten for personal protection, putting it to my head, I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want him to be the cause of my death. I chose to flee.
I read years later that he said he didn’t want a divorce. Then why would you beat on your wife? Why would you pull a gun on her? Why would you blame her for your shortcomings? I don’t regret leaving him. I only regret not doing so sooner.
If you’re in a domestic violence situation, or are uncertain whether or not your experiences are abuse, please contact Domestic Violence Hotline, or call 800-799-SAFE (7233). If you have been sexually assaulted, yes, even by your husband/partner/boyfriend/girlfriend, you can find help at R.A.I.N.N. (Rape And Incest National Network) by visiting their website at rainn.org or calling 800 656 HOPE (4673)
You are not alone. Help is out there. You will be okay.
To capture the eyes that adore me back
To experience the breath of your kisses
To envelope myself in your arms
To be in silence with the chorus of rising bellies
To caress the satin that calls my name
To press my urgency to your ear, confessing
To know, understand, you are my mythical being

The taste of your skin
is the richest flavor of sin
Let me drink in your dreams
Collapse at the seams
Let me dive into your spirit
Steadfast as your intimate
Abiding in your soul
your voice, whisper soft, and low
Let me read your skin like braille
breathing in you, then exhale
Give me your deepest release
Let me paint you, my masterpiece
in skies of orange and purple hue
Give to me the art of you
I missed your birthday a couple of years back.
I was locked up, sorry about that.
See I got to running with a rougher crowd
They drank too much and partied too loud.
I knew they were bad, but it was so much fun
I knew my world was about to come undone.
I left you with your Grandma Jones
She took you in and gave you a home.
I couldn’t destroy myself while keeping you
I mourned your loss, but got your name tattooed
on my forearm where I see it every day.
I missed you but I had to stay away.
I hope someday you might miss me as well
while I sit here 5-10 in a 4 by 6 cell
I’m sorry I missed your birthday a couple months back
But I was locked up, sorry about that.
This is an imagining of why someone might leave their child behind for the sake of self-destruction. This is not based on fact or any person I’ve known living or dead.
You turn my blood the color of my skin
I’m made of mud, like you, my kin
We breathe the air made from the trees
We drink the water from stormy seas
We laugh without ever being taught
We’ve all done things that we oughtn’t
I object to your hasty dismissal
which, my friend, is abysmal
I deprecate you right to your face
I am far from being your idea of disgrace
I am human, just like you
Deny it all you’d like, we both know it’s true.

Come down off the cross, stand your ground
There’s no more time for fucking around.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too
Roll up your sleeves, we’ve got work to do.
This world is starving for the love you have
Quit being the electronics slave
Reach out, connect, make a fool of yourself
Dust off your “Give a Damn” from the top shelf
Open your eyes to the world as it is
Get out! Get going! You’ve so much to give.
Don’t mind the naysayers, there’s always those,
just keep on trucking, follow your knows.
Share what you have that you don’t need
Don’t give in to the excess of greed
Bloom where you’re planted from the seed
that brought you forth for you to succeed.
Get down off the cross and get to work
Enough already, your duties, don’t shirk

Try as I might, I can’t keep from weeping
I wish upon wish, my traditions keeping
But from my heart, my tears are leaking
Your silence screams at my speaking
Oh, how I wish you’d trusted me more
Instead of looking for ways to score
From my chest, my heart you tore
But those are shadows of vanished lore
I love(d) you with every bit of my being
From our home you stole while fleeing
Every bit of our future fleeting
I wish, I wish that you were seeing
As these holidays warm others homes
I watch and miss you, feeling alone
My traditions are now gone to tome
May love find you someday, wherever you roam.

Kick the needles ‘neath your feet
raise your arms, the moon to greet
Call the wolves. Call the owls.
Under dark, the hailing howls
Lay the stones from east to north
Deosil way to lay the fourth
“Honor AIR that breathes my life.
Passion’s FIRE burning bright.
Emotional WATERs flowing free
Grounding EARTH, cradle me.
SPIRIT high, SPIRIT low
Heed me now, hear me and know
I raise my heart to greet the night
In the sun I claim the light.
I call to you to hear my plea
Grant me peace and prosperity
Material goods for material needs
Spiritual power, banish greed
Service holy giv’n in your name
The WHEEL turns, offerings of change
Beloved! Beloved! Hear my cries!
Balance me within your eye
Love and justice, wisdom, peace,
Hear me now, so mote it be!

If God’s original intent was to be perfect love for creation, then does it not make sense that Love, in name, is vain? Because, it created itself to be adored; in fact it requires adoration and glorification. It means that without the nurturing, cherishing, and honor done to those loved, it kills the very thing it proclaims to protect.
This is particularly accurate in relationships. If one or both allows life, possessions, or other things to come in between two people whom love each other, that love can rapidly become resentment, frustration, and anger. But when time is spent to prioritize the bond shared between two people, love does, indeed, flourish. So in this sense, love is not above wanting or needing to be appreciated.
But then what of the flowers that know nothing else but to be beautiful? Or a worm that worships at the flower’s roots? Or the bees that tend to the needs of beauty without a thought to why they pollinate the face of roses, daisies, and daffodils as certainly as they do the dandelions? Are they proof of the love we are meant to experience? Or are they merely energy used to engage us in questions of our own worthiness to be loved?
However, the beauty we are gifted with all around us are all reminders of a darker fare. Everything is a reminder of our own mortality. We can witness the cycles, seasons, and lifespans of many things around us. They are all preparing for our return to our own place of death; our own return to the stars.
We are constantly reminded by these living/sentient beings that our time here ends. They remind us that, just as a frond pushes towards the sun to work in the symbiotic ancient growth of life and beauty, so will it return to the earth.
We see but do not accept. Even in our known mortality, we allow the people we love to fall away from us. We forget to nourish the very roots from which we have grown. We build fragile connections through various addictions or meaningless distractions. We find so many ways to keep from seeing the truth of our energies.
We can do the same towards those we love. We can “kill” them with our neglect. Assuming, as with life, they will always be there. Maybe we view those we love as possessions which drives a wedge deep into the love we’re born to be. We may also place undue expectations on our loved ones, demanding that they comply with our own ideal despite their own person. These acts tear us from love. Denying they are also mortal locks us into taking one another for granted. We ignore the facts laid out all around us as proof we will also die.
It is only when we understand that we are created, born, and exist to be divine love that we can embrace our innate holiness in service to one another. This is, in it’s pure state, a declaration of love of self. It affords us a view of our own energy bottled in a different package. By igniting our own holiness, we are taught that although we are unique, our own being becomes one with each encounter.
There are many reasons we may deny others the love we are destined to give. We may be teaching our divine self where we most need to heal. We may be rejecting the lesson we’re meant to learn. We may also reject others because the lesson has already been accomplished, has already been learned and processed.
Just as we may reject opportunities in accordance to how we feel we are, or more importantly, if we believe we are worthy of the gift presented. Even the poor of spirit wish, whether consciously or not, to be cherished, admired, even adored which lends heavily to the hypothesis that we are all divine; all forms of God of which we are, by the blessing of our birthright, born to Love.
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
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