Read…it will change you..Hatreds Whore 1, 2 and 3~

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~Hatreds Whore~

The subtle trapping of the flesh
Does eat the soul alive…
The folly of words that spin the web
Leaving strife and lies.
The subtle desensitizing of the mind
Eating way at the cells misfiring
Does the spirit still dwell even against its contrary morals?
Against the angst and frailty of justice?
And doth contempt churn within,
As disconcerting as before the subtle lies of hatreds whore?

~Hatreds Whore Part~2~

You crazy fool you think you have yet again advanced your position in this life?
Coddled entitlement chokes you and leads you ignorantly through the trenches you walk daily… Believing your own demented truths!
And does your existence prove to be so profitable?
Does your opinion truly count?
Or does thy soul eat away
The core of your spirit that
Dances idly alone through clouded dreams pass the Laws of men  smothered by society’s brew eats the meat and flesh of your bones, your life and lies doth slowly chew, and spew…… You out… Spit forth
Leftovers are all  you are fool, and to think you  never knew !
And does thy soul magnify and convey the torment ?
Or do you smile, all the while eating lies up like a child?

~Epilogue to Hatreds Whore~

The Will of youth is fading
Hinged between realm’s of grey, black, white…..wrong, right smeared dripping, bleeding into each other~
Not yet divided by age ……definitely, to young to be old, to old to be young.
Seemingly timeless, don’t we wish to believe~

Thy will was strong, Ah Thy youth vigorous! Consuming, Passionate……..Yet time upon earth has broken the will of your youth, tainted, choked the spirit of your present condition once shared Devine connection….. Suffocating in a conformist fashion…Pre-made a template duplicated…. Scorned…even Hated~

Strange strengths unknown alive yet Lacking discipline~Ominous thoughts scatter about
Eating around the skirted Subjects best left secret, leaving no clue~

Unmastered skill yielding strength
imparting ability to carry forth much more intense tasks yet to be finished with flawless execution, instead drained by surrounding energies pertaining to tasks, trying times, ever smudging smearing lines~

Visions inspired by God… That great cosmic master have wiped the slate of prophecy clean~
Over exposure to environment wiped the mind void …..trying to distinguish which voice……… which vision was God, or Demons now lurking in corners, and shadows awaiting moments of weakness to torment thoughts, your soul.
Mute Divinity the Holy Spirit once directing every step, every action of times long lost…… Lost long before this present condition, this meager existence.

Doth this evil that exist supersede the once enveloping presence man thought God to be?
Those philosophical longings… Greater questions lingering, longing for answers……
Has exposure edified the presence of human thought upon God, as deceitful, longing to have control?

Does thought of a Godless world Condemn us swiftly without Regarded thought?
Without belief in tact?
Skeptics … Dare we be?
Ah we must! Indeed.

It’s down to science to fact…..Facts often proven failures later due to fallacy, policy, ignorance believing that the mysteries of the unseen, angels, demons the Supreme One are false?
Indeed subjective.
Your Experience prevails or does it Lack?

Has doubt allowed hate to negate….contradicting lies, sealing history’s fate? Squeezing the life out, draining needs of things considered holy, Devine, to seemingly cease?
Or does it thrive within you alive?

Hatred you whore, you demonic thief… Reeking havoc destruction and grief, yet easily graceful, alluring, enticing to beseech, even more so to easily reach~

Insidious belief difference divides
opposes thought……,action with deceit, malice, subtle thief….. whore, that hate, Trying to cloud human fate….
Venomous rage, collected, captured shackled in a cage
Scorned trifling rage
Hate… You whore
Ever present searching for more~
Hating today as much as yesterday maybe a little more….
Thus my name is Hatreds Whore~

Not For Reproduction~

~Dark Bipolar Suicide Thoughts~NJM~

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Suicide is what happens when the pain and hell you feel each day on earth overshadows the fear of a Hell in the after life or a meager existence if reincarnated.

And so the ocean welcomed her with open arms and swept her away from the hell on earth she lived. She whispered a Prayer that her father accepts his child as any father would whose child endured to much pain.

~Regret~

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Ideological fanaticism The mirror holds the image so tight~

Unable to move out of ones sight~
Hourglass turns and sands starts to drain no longer can time contain~

Life sustain?
Reflections cracked and connection lost~

Guess no one decided to count the cost~
Detached and subdued, Drained, by the need~

All that they long for festers in greed~
How your heart full of art, Beautifully broken will bleed~

While I write these words, You read~in your mind It is I that plants the seeds~
Defining sounds consume all space~The shadows grow larger in this place~Yet disappearing without a trace ~
Grips that shackle the freedom once given~the strength of youth lost to time~Now live on your life walk the fine line~
We swallow their lies~Yet long for truth~
But all is lost, Especially our youth~
By the time you think you arrived~Your life event you barely survived~Often you wish that you just died~
All gone to another not each other~Surely push away forget together~
One day you look back and all that you see were words written …….Scribbles that rhyme but that’s ok fool yourself all is just fine~
Fine you say dear oh Darlin ~Lend me your ear~
When I speak these words, I invoke fear~
So run to your shadows~Hide away fast~
No matter what, I always last~
Rise as I watch you wither away, Longing to late now~How you wish I would stay~
Live now with your choice~Till your dying day~
Regret , remorse spinning the web~
Tears flow down your face onto your pillow then onto your bed~
When your alone you think of me~How we could have been, Let’s others see~
Yet you let me go again, You set me free~
Still you will come again and again~Just wait you’ll see~

~The Art of Being Sorry in 4 Simple Steps~

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The art of sorry in 4 easy steps…….

For the majority of us being sorry is something we often feel when we do something wrong. We often forget is that when we truly are sorry and we apologize to the other person with whom we done wrong too we open ourselves up for hurt.

Feeling regret or remorse or sorry is an emotion that humans feel after doing something against their lack of better judgment or against their values or morals…..basically in any circumstances that they should’ve acted differently in.

Previously I stated you open yourself up for hurt when you truly are sorry, you then proceed to tell the person with whom you have wronged that hey “I’m sorry truly sorry”

What happens when you are sorry 1. You say it and 2. Mean it and 3. Leave yourself open to the persons response there are no “but’s” or “Could’s” or “Should’s” or Would’s” 4. There is but one single statement” I am sorry” that is all that should come out of your mouth. Next you should prepare yourself to receive whatever the other person Has to say in response to your contriteness silently listening without excuses.

Lately it appears or so it seems that the majority of relationships that I engage in are all one sided. This makes for a lonely existence. Unfortunately however alone it may feel I am learning that it is necessary to limit those around you who continuously make excuses or are master manipulators at trying to always turn everything into their “reasons for” never truly being sorry , only wanting to explain why they did what they did… see that is not sorry, Or at least where I come from that’s not what I was taught.

So to recap…..don’t ever say that you were sorry unless it is the only three words that you were going to say to the person you wronged,there is no excuse for whatever you’re sorry for that’s why it’s called being sorry….So there it is 4 simple steps to the Art of truly being sorry.

Don’t play on my playground~

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Don’t play on my playground

The rusty parts might cut you

The hinges may come off

The railing is weak
Don’t play on my playground

They’ll think you a freak

You want to be here on this grey dingy playground no it can’t be

You’ll be on this playground that’s owned by me

It’s so easy to get hurt don’t you see

My playground although dented and corroded is made just for me

I’ve cared for it poorly

It’s not to late

To play safe on the merry go round

I’ll sit and watch and wait

No I’d rather the thrill of the rollar  coaster you know

There is fear in my eyes but it won’t show

No no

I’ve played on my play ground for so long the fear I had now has made me strong

It’s been far to long get off my playground off my merry go round as well

I have a few choice words I’ll keep to myself oh what the hell

There is no more us not now no story to tell

Get off my playground

It’s being renovated

So shiney and new

My playgrounds reserved only for few

That means my playground is not for you

Politics of Mental Illness~

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Let’s establish a platform for what I’m about to address. Politics is a good place. Below is a general description of what politics mean.

Politics=

Activities associated with the governance of a country or other area, especially the debate or conflict among individuals or parties having or hoping to achieve power.

I work with others, I stand with others, I promote with others, I believe with others, I fight with others, I dream with other of a day where I no longer must address issue’s such as what I am about to do in this post. Notice all I do with others, notice that I’m part of the collective of “others” like myself.

I try very diligently to educate and facilitate the changes needed to break mental health stigma. You know…. let’s move outside a little more, let’s be inclusive and break all stigma right? Wrong.

Perhaps I’m a bit more skeptical these days. Perhaps it’s cause I’ve invested my time effort that has compelled me to write this.

A question if I may, to provoke a thought process. Can you tell who suffers mental illness by looking at them? In some cases you can, but in 85% you can not.

The 15% are those hospitalized. Or have apparent visual aspects of said mental illness publicly.

I’m gonna ask another question. Why do we suffer, and further why do we suffer alone? Why do we have to go into full explanation of a disability at all? Seen or not seen?

Because it’s the politics of this subject, the debate, the fact that most anyone who is seemingly normal outside yet will act upon psychopathic behavior, killing, raping….these people fall under mentally ill, obviously they are missing a piece of something, and in most cases it’s the mind.

It’s because crimes that are related in violence and killings also relates to mental illness. There, there is the elephant it’s out the closet.

So now what do we do? There is only one thing to do, fight for the right of individuality of each other and our illness. Educate inform. But DO NOT let others generalize you in the umbrella of fear, fear and ignorance.

Further I want expound that bipolar and Schizophrenia are feared most by the public than other illness.

Depression is something that connects us all at one point in our lives, in fact, it’s the only mental illness I know that can cancel out. Meaning, when tragedy strikes we withdraw and get depressed however it may leave and never manifest again until another event that invokes depression. I say cancels out, because EVERYONE has been depressed or BLUE.

Not everyone has bipolar…… I think. Sometimes I question that. We are all dual. Double edged. ANYONE can be pushed to limits they may have never imagined, and incur a break from reality.

So the next time you look at someone next to you and you feel all comfy and normal as do they because what they perceive around them visually seems well, remember nothing is truly ever as it seems.

And to expound further, it’s never the ones you would have guessed.

However if only fear and ignorance was replaced by understanding and a willingness to help end stigma end, the politics of the subject at hand would cease.

Further I have witnessed that the ones you fear, are usually the ones who help in the end, and the one you think helps is still feeling superior in their mind, that there normal. Ha.

Can you define normal? Is it the majority? Sorry you will never understand the entire magnitude of normal. It’s just not normal to politically do so, and that my dear reader is the politics of mental illness.

~This Empty Space~

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I don’t feel you anymore This empty space you used to fill

To paint the picture in our mind

Those days long gone we search to find

Your image faded by years gone by

Your voiced muted

Your fragrance no longer lingers

Your thoughts no longer shared

Your laughter gone

I don’t feel you anymore

This empty space you used to fill

This empty space~

~Anguish~

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Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak thy face

Tear salted river flows down thy neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form thine heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ thine eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

Thy limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down thy face

Not for reproduction~

IMG_0415.PNG

Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak the face

Tear salted river flows down the neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form the heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ the eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

That limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down the face

Not for reproduction~

IMG_0415.PNG

Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak the face

Tear salted river flows down the neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form the heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ the eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

That limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down the face

Not for reproduction~

How can you respond to someone who is acting bipolar to help them get out of their episode? I don’t even know what to call episode. Basically where they are abusive, negative and angry all the time.

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First of all how do you even know for sure that it is bipolar?

Everyone has different realities and perceptions.

The anger well did you let this person down in any way?

See anger comes from being let down. I know. When someone wrongs me I get very angry. I can rip them to threads if need be.

So there is no answer to this question that would constitute a useful suggestion.

If you don’t know what to call it?

Because there is nothing to call perhaps you may need to talk with someone yourself about this troubling situation.

I can tell you therapy and a support system with friend helps a bunch.

But yeah…..if you feel this strongly and don’t know what to call it I advise you to get Therapy as well. Good luck God bless

~Trolling~

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Just because it’s on the net does not make it real, just because my words touch does not mean that I feel. Just because you have an account most likely the identity did you steal…. From another fool. Snap shot the photo, make your own name share a few post it’s the name of the game.Does not matter how you roll all the same it makes you a troll.
I know I’ve trolled a time or too… How bout you?
Are you sure it’s me you’re talking to?am I’m sure it’s you, there is no other way you see unless of course I skype you.
Hold up a photo with the date truly don’t mean shit. I can call a friend and have them put the date and time smile big and shoot me over a pic.
So next time you think you’re such a genius just try to remember this …….awe just forget my bladder is full I’m going take a piss.

Gone~