~No one Could Hold A Candle to Me~Not even a Match to Light It~

Shit is its own vocabulary sir

Southern vernacular

Colloquial expression

Layden with

Insipid ideas

Treacherous deciet

Yet evermore

Longing for yet without

From great distance and in our heart something tells me we never part

I’m in you

As you are in me

Like the creole roots embedded in me I am as Southern as Southern can be

We try to part but you refuse to see

That no one could love you better than me

You tasted the sweet the bitter the brine deep inside you know you are mine

It takes your attention from me

This new idea

Person……

Fall pretense

Unoriginal bland

If you only could see

What you had in your hand

Blinded by your own lust and deceit

I’ll stand tall and unique

Out of my mouth doth angels speak

So you will see

They could never hold a candle to me, not even the match to light it with~

Can’t you see?

~Anguish~

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~

~Hell in Your Eye’s~

Walking, Waiting
Flying through the air

Hoping, Hating

Things that I can not bear

Did you think it’s cool to walk right up, To take my life and fuck it up

Well did you?

The Angel of what was me

I can no longer see

I see hell in your eyes

Even behind your disguise

Takin in by surprise

Touching you makes me feel so alive…….

Touching you makes me die inside

Oh I’ve slept so long without you

Alone with too much pain

Elements surround you

The Earth, Water, Fire, Air

You descend upon me without a care…..

Suppressed by your power

Your charming flair

In the witching hour

You curled around me

I was yours to devour

Now chains kept upon me

Seems I’ll never leave

Taking in by surprise

I see hell in your eyes

~NJM~Can You Feel What I Feel? Let’s make it part of the deal~

I awake to your thoughts of me causing a restless longing I no longer care to touch or feel. I awake to you wanting to hear me, but I stay silent. I awake and remember how I wanted your love once at any cost. Now I’ve counted the cost it’s of no value to me.

I awake I feel your loss, your longing , I know because I lost you the day you rejected me, just took your rejection and mental abuse awhile for it to sink in. It has. In the words of the late great Kurt Cobain If you truly want me then…… Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an known enemy…take your time, hurry up, the choice is yours but don’t be late!

~Please….Don’t Flatter yourself

Don’t flatter yourself Thinking I make every move for you~
Don’t flatter yourself if I ask you many questions, I’m inquisitive by nature~
Don’t flatter yourself thinking you’re the object of my desire~
Don’t flatter yourself by my fascination, a time in my life now gone~
Don’t flatter yourself thinking you could ever find anyone like me, I’m unique and to good for you~
Don’t flatter yourself you definitely are not one of a kind you’re cut from the common cloth The generic design~
Don’t flatter yourself and think your self unique trust its All been done before you’re cut from common cloth~
Don’t flatter yourself thinking you have advanced yourself in life you have not…. job promotions happen all the time~
Don’t flatter yourself you think the world owes you, a sense of entitlement you can’t seem to see just how big your ego can be~ bobble head….
Don’t flatter yourself anymore with regard to me, if you cross my mind I pray and get on with life. I let it be. You judged me was embarrassed by me~
Simply don’t flatter yourself I’m gone now let it be~
Don’t flatter yourself ~

Especially for me..~

~Glorious Victory~Stories Legends are Made of~

Thy kingdom beyond the clouds doth reign~

Shall thy defend this kingdom in vain

Wonderful glory of beauty beseech

Because thy own to far must reach

Horse hooves loudly roar

Upon this ground

Upon the sound

Upon thy mercy lay thy crown

Soldiers tarry and bravely fight

They battle deep into the night

There waits a queen whose faith is shaken~

Her lords crown may soon be taken

Doth people of common understand

That they toil upon stolen land

Beauty of thine yet more to seek

Across the crowds our eyes doth meet~

Horses hooves loudly roar

As knights from battle fight no more

Kingdom bound to feast and dance

Till yet again another chance

To defend thy kingdom

Thy people, thy crown

To defeat that beast come from the ground~

To hear that glorious, victorious sound

To place upon the king his crown

Then yet once more shall thy ascend

To fight this battle yet once again

Because this kingdom I defend!

Because this kingdom I defend!

With glorious victory till bitter end~

Not For Reproduction~

~Accounability Collector~

In bowels of deceit you were born

Silence prevails

As dynamics fluctuate

Blood runs through

Veins yet…. no heart

A strange life

Life not meant for here

Life force with out life

Without love

Abandoned me, it’s ‘s what you do~

My voice will haunt you because I loved you~

Out the window stare

Trees leaves glistening

Sunlight dances upon them

Love has forsaken me

But Angels prevail

Breathing and whispering

Weeping for my numb

Unresponsiveness

Trying to ignite my flame of life

To save me all the strife

To late

The flames falls….. falling over

The precipice….in my heart has a steep drop

Flames burn out as they fall downward into the body, the shell of who I was

I am no longer

My life half there

Half gone

Timing, Destiny

Can kiss my ass

I’ll chose when or if

I decide to leave or stay

Best get on knees

Best pray

Memories don’t dissipate

Scathing scars

Blood runs

Slowly seeping

Out

What have you done

You fool

Foolish games

Stop

Because! …love no more

John Keats” there is no happy love

More happy happy love”

Please…
Nazareth” Love hurts

Love scars

Love wounds and marks

Any heart not tough or strong enough

To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain

Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain

Love hurts”
You had the the truth in the lyrics

Music can express

Art can express

But you’ll never again have Enough to impress

What does it take?

What it takes you don’t have,or was it Me, I didn’t …..all so complicated you see~
The accountability collector called, said its time to pay your bill it’s long past due~

~Breaking Bad~One Hundred And One Days of Hell~Needs lots of Work on this for damn sure~

I have thought over and over about the events that provoked my most recent manic episode.

It began on July 28 of 2018. Let me begin by saying that often extreme Manic episodes take time to build up to a Crescendo so to speak, to hit its high….. to hit the apex of insanity. Stress always is the catalyst, I hadn’t seen my son in months although I share custody. I was being parentally alienated, I was in a stressful relationship and I had to many people around me with drama,like mental vampires that suck all your peace and solitude away from your mind.

As I write this I realize that this may be too much to write too soon after these events occurred, events that should never occurred yet unfortunately did.

But I want to be brave and I don’t want what happened to me to happen to others, that is why I write this blog is to educate and share my personal experiences in hope that someone else can learn and understand bipolar disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder better. Read the links below this Is where 2 inmates died in less than a year in this jail because they don’t care and do what they want when they want. Why? They don’t listen nor care , See that’s another thing they won’t give you your meds either. I take benzodiazepines, you are not to stop abruptly or you could go into seizure and die. I know this happened to me once while baker acted I almost died because they wouldn’t give me my usual dose of benzodiazepine. Here is the article this only shows part of the negligence at Lake County jail

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.wftv.com/amp/news/9-investigates/lake-county-sheriffs-office-investigates-armor-correctional-following-inmates-death/760398047 and here is another story https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.orlandosentinel.com/news/lake/os-ne-lake-county-jail-inmate-suicide-20190122-story,amp.html

I lost a lot this last episode I even lost myself for a while. I should’ve been baker acted but instead I was taken to jail for 101 days of hell.

I was also tasered in the heart while seated in my vehicle by an officer who knows and is well aware of my condition…..my disability which is bipolar disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder and yet he treated me and my disability without regard. This cop has baker acted me before. The police report is full of lies all my stuff was stolen there were about 20 responders…. too many …. shit got all fucked up, and a lot of my expensive things are gone….. stolen. I even lost my car.

I can’t go into detail right now after a lot of thought, I also have attorneys they probably wouldn’t want me talk about my experience while they are investigating case numbers of complaints I was brave enough to report to a nurse who helped me.

I held onto that piece of paper with a single case number and the name of the officer who put me into a room alone with him present while I was directed to write all of the things that happened to me.

I remembering asking him after hours of writing “is that all I get is a piece of paper with just a case number no dates no nothing but a number and your name?” Seriously?” Yep.

I was called the quiet one in jail. I didn’t talk much and I never cried. Couldn’t I shut down. I had no emotion left. Most likely all the trauma. Upon release on November 5th still no emotions. Honestly I only started crying after I watched all of the show “Breaking Bad” I completely could relate to Jesse’s character at the end, he drives away, and Walter white (aka Eisenberg) is on the lab floor dying as the cops are coming. That was the last episode…..I could feel for the first time watching it as it ended Jesse did the most amazing job of hitting that steering wheel so hard crying and screaming from all he endured, I felt it in…..that moment and it all bled through and finally after 5 and half months I cried…… so hard.

One day maybe I’ll tell more. Till then you can fill in blanks or not.

Perhaps I should have called this Breaking Bad…. 101 days of hell..or

“Finally I Cried, I’m beginning to feel again. . Now maybe I can learn to write again I’m learning to live again slowly. Thanks for reading. Breaking Bad definitely…….

I Have Altered much of my Work~

I added and edited a few pieces if you read them you will catch the difference~ enjoy~ oh not all just a few in the first possible post that appear somewhere between in the first 10 ~

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.