Happy Mother’s Day to my Mom Mary Louis Bourgeois~One of the greatest fortune tellers On the Bayous of Houma Louisiana~

My Mon was 78 years old right there in the photo, just saying~

Momma I called Dennis today, been 7 years since you passed away.

I was sick in my mind and was unable to help when you died.

Momma we had a very strained relationship I felt that you tried……. the best you knew how, oh how I wish you were here now.

The words I speak now are still hard to find.

After 7 years I asked Dennis, I never met face to face.

If he would render the ashes, if not where they were placed?

Momma he couldn’t you see.

He gave them to your companion who was 20 years younger , as you well knew his name is cecil. Here I got his picture today! He looks great see 

I searched Cecil down and what a surprise he did tell. By the way he is doing well.

He poured out your ashes onto your mothers grave.

It was to late for your ashes for me to save.

Momma I’m sorry I was sick in my mind, there were many around me who were very unkind. You warned me long ago but I didn’t take heed. Watch who you let in and what exactly they need. They will cling to you, your life force and will breed.

You mailed me a card voicing concern, it was mailed the day you died I finally learned.

Momma it is bittersweet to know the day you passed & went away that you mailed the card to me that very day.

Momma you already know I grieve differently than most.

I have delayed grief it takes many years to finally sink in.

Just like when Dad died ashes to wind, he died on my birthday as you already knew. He died 7 years before you.

Momma lately you haunt my dreams… I want you to know I don’t have a Stone where your ashes did go, so this is your headstone now this is your grave.

Momma you kept secrets to tell……

But I’m not sure if those secrets went to heaven or hell.

I’ll never know but I can presume you’re finally at rest you paid the price you passed the test.

I know your life was really hard it was far from the best.

How I wish things were different

How they could’ve been.

Momma receiving the card you sent on the day of your death,

It was delivered 3 days later

I opened the mail box took a deep breath.

Momma the last two years of your life we became close

I want you to know I miss you and Dad both.

You lived through Katrina I found  your sons as you asked, I never knew you had many children each one you left except me, I don’t know why,

And will never understand why it was me? Or why the others never came to see, except my sister Jackie

But time has a way to change what has past make it what’s best.

Momma I talked to Dennis to day

Twice before too, this is what he would say “Kismet” at first I didn’t know what he meant

Didn’t know how time moves,

How time is spent.

I know that will be the last time I’ll talk to him as he announced to me his Kismet is due.

Momma Dennis is now 71 years old.

He had a few stories that needed to be told.

His accent sounded so good so Cajun you see the blood so creole in you and in me.

Momma you instilled in me the Bible and quotes each day

At night on bent knee psalms 91 we would pray.

I still can recite it in its entirety today.

Momma you were known as the great fortune teller who lived on the bayou I saw what you did…….

How you always eventually knew.

People would come from cities around to see what was ahead of them to see what you found.

You used a plain deck of cards for you to see what would be.

The kings and the Queens and jokers Jumped out of the deck.

Taking inventory gave them the check read them the mail from the outer realm, touched by the unseen, you taught some to me, taught my unseen instincts only you could at first see.

Prophetic words spilled out of your mouth. You could summon the knowledge from North, West, East and south.

You never approved of any man I brought before you.

They were not good enough,

They weren’t good men.

“Not able “you’d say to give my daughter only truth long the way, to love me as needed, to protect me from harm, guess you knew that none existed so you never did tell how life could often be hell.

People clouded by lies shackled in death, confessing only in their last breath.

I’m so sorry momma I couldn’t get you in a casket into the ground.

But Jimi sang a song just for you how profound

“The wind cries Mary” all around.

https://g.co/kgs/pxdqgQ
I think of you when I hear that song, Jimi tapped into your life somehow in that unseen realm… I think it’s cool and truly old school.

How could he see the creole Mary how the wind would cry your name, how the words painted your life, your strife, your hope, the saddest thing to me was you had to learn to cope.

So Momma this is your headstone on the web of the world immortalized but your story not all told.

Momma I too now am getting old.

Your grandson is growing up to, I see so much of me in him like I see so much of you in me.

Funny how life works how it moves along somehow.

Momma I pray for your blessing as I move along on my quest

Momma inside me I know you’re at rest.
Love Nicole
Mary Louise Bourgeois

R.I.P.

7/12/1927 – 9/30/2010

In that photo she was 75… died at age 83.

~Sorry experiencing Technical Difficulties~

Excuse my blog for a few days it has a malfunction in the FIRE WALL! it’s fixed soon thank you~

~Restless Bipolar Thoughts~

Bipolar mind

Machinations

Eclectic mind

So random without order

Content unknown

Images flash

Strewn about thoughts

Racing fast,

Flooding my brain invading

Concepts to conceptualize

Twisting

There is no pause

No stillness

To much to contemplate

Subjects subjective

Bursting

Perception yet perceived

Intent

Only to be Crystallized

~No Reprieve~

There is no reprieve
No procrastination

No forgiveness

Not here
You pay

Everyday

No reprieve

No holding back

No return
There is no reprieve

No understanding

Ignorance

Lack of tolerance

Pain is the fuel

In devils delight

No reprieve

No sabitacal

No leave

What does one think

Drinking the poison

In the mind

So many like this

So many my kind

Keep in step

Forget the time

Remember…..
You pay

Every day

And beauty

And death

Have their way

Notes in Pockets~

Drama
Fear is collected

Like tiny notes unread in your pockets

Are you afraid to pull each one out and read it?

Will it invoke fear

Causing and provoking Drama to appear?

Self prophetic are we, believe in your fear, it will soon be your reality, or be healthy be strong let there be no fear I don’t collect notes in my pockets un opened, the drama each phrase written appears and it causes you to fear.

My oh my

The drama, negativity and fear.

I live strong. I live as I was called to, although it’s not always sufficient it provides me shelter

You may see me as foolish more like adventurous

Not a dull moment indeed

I am my fathers daughter a hybrid fragmented breed

I don’t carry little notes in my pockets unopened unread

I sure don’t need Your fear near me or my life or even my head

And I sure don’t leave little tiny notes in my pockets unread

Leaving unanswered questions in your head

And all is in your head yet, you still carry tiny notes all tangled and tied up in thread in your pockets unread.

~Coming Soon~

I haven’t written in awhile and soon I will be writing about why. It is called 101 days of Hell~ and in more contemplative thoughts I’m working on how one can achieve happiness alone….. Yes I said happy and alone in one sentence and it feels good~

~Tangled Emotion~NJM~

You Tangle my emotions

Tied them in a knot

Walked out my life leaving my heart to rot

As you slammed the door

I dropped to the floor

Getting stuck in the creases

Edges tathered torn

Grabbing for paper to write a letter….

But I am a typo

On written pages of life

With a message to convey

Not without perplexing one’s views

Part of the glitch

Some call me a bitch

Others a whore

Some say they need nothing more

I complete them

Impossible you see

If I can’t complete you

How the hell do I complete me

Tangled tied ripped upart, yet I’m still alive

Often I wonder is it chaos and tragedy on which I thrive

it’s all I know it’s how I survive go figure

~Preemptive~revised~

Preemptive I suppose

I leave first

You silver tongue devil

You had me almost

But all of my life I stood by

With hope learning to cope

No more

Preemptive I am

Strike you down

Out of my sight

Purged from my mind

You can come to look

You will not find

Preemptive in love

Just as in war

I am a missile

I reach out so far

I’ll tear down your defenses

I close in on you all around

Slash your heart first

Never again it’s now

A curse

Laid upon me long ago

A trust can be broken only so many times

Am I confused unable to see

I breed in you and you breed in me

And we also bleed too!

Your deceit

Is a pool of my blood around your feet

My blood, my scars

No one can never cross far over my lines

Drawn in a particular way

So when I am done

I have the say

Preemptive

I can’t even make it a month

Thinking of what could be us

I see to much fault

You are not what I thought

Characteristics you portray

Soon fade away

So I jump out

Leaving you quickly

I can’t conceive

Why you can’t perceive

That I am no longer shackled

By love or sex

Well I’d like to think

Mortal coil craves

I’m human

I have my days

I’m preemptive

You wonder how you let go the best

It’s not you

It’s not a test

So go on your way

Give it a rest

Wait what did I just say?

Preemptive dear Darlin dear

Now feel the fate as it draws near~

~Moods 101~A Must read, especially Bipolar sufferers~

Welcome to moods 101

Let’s hurry up, get this day done….

These stale corners of this life I live Days like these it’s hard to give… An inch, a mile,a simple smile. I lay in bed and mope awhile.
When emotions are sharp as a knife,And corners lose their curve,

It’s like a resounding screeching noise that sits on my last nerve.
These modes leave few to choose-The only way to try to win is instead to lose. Allowing the funk and muck to slosh all around, blocking out the environment and not allowing sound.
I will allow this feeling to slowly drain me dry, and somewhere in between each take I’ll stop to think and cry.
Then tomorrow like the miracle she always is, will unfold with moods anew… And all these crapy shitty moods will only be a few.

Does someone who is bipolar know that they’re wrong when they are verbally abusive and threatening during a manic phase?

Well, I’m speaking of my experience.
No and yes.

When manic, your sense of boundaries are skewed. The filter that most individuals use and have in place cease to exist.

In the manic phase, mania takes on many forms. Strong hostility, as well as a viscous tongue can arise if provoked even the slightest by someone who at one time or another failed me, these fails will indeed rise to the surface.

With that I’ve never been dishonest with my words but verbally abusive would fit. What I would say was often very true about what I felt about things they’ve done. But it was said very harshly, and with viscous intent. The message I conveyed was not false , but was said in such abrupt disregard that it would leave its scar.

Threatening. I only threatened when I was threatened. By that I mean because I’m bi polar, and may be within a confrontation , statements ” like you need to take your meds”or “no one will believe you cause you crazy ” will set me off, especially since those words are meant to make me feel less than, and with ignorance. Which at that point I will zone into all character flaws of the said individual I’m in conflict with and rip them to shreds, at which point I can leave them speechless.

In short I must be provoked in order to act in such ways. Granted I’m more sensitive when manic. So if the person is aware of my state. Then all could be avoided. It’s all in the care, in the handling.

Most of those whom I’ve done this too, had in most cases abandoned me when I may have needed them most. And when they needed me most I was there for them in their time of need.This is why I’ve burned a few bridges. But if they were unsupportive of me after my diagnosis then those bridges need not be crossed again.
These are my experiences , the only thing I felt bad for was how I said it. How I said it, and my intent behind it. But I was never sorry for speaking the truth.
Written 16 Dec, 2013. Asked to answer by Marcus Ford.