The Velvet Fog
Broken is who and what I am. Every day I see the pieces of my armor falling to the floor. I am that tragic secret whispered among the thorns. An embalmed mannequin morphing into a rotting corpse. A piece of trash waiting for Sanitation to pick me up and deposit me on the refuse heap. The Reaper comes for his Harvest as the Char Man makes his daily delivery to Sanford & Son. Elizabeth I’ll see you soon.
When did the explosion happen? Who knows? Because I think it was really an implosion. Being a Nightmare waiting to be born. Somebody put a dent in my universe which I don’t know how to repair.
I am not mortar and stone. I am bubbling flesh bursting at the seams. In my dreams I’m someone else. Somebody else. An important person. A person with a mission, passion and purpose. Going up in the air ready to crash into the next mountain peak. Brought low. Brought back to earth. Reality.
Holding court in Mt. Morris Park armed with my Eastman Kodak Brownie there to see and be seen capturing every day Harlemites and Glorious Black Culture. Moving easily and seamless between the 20th and 21st Centuries as the First Time Traveling Female Flâneur. Racing forward in time for a day at Rockaway Playland with a same day trip to Coney Island. No boundaries. Nothing to hold me back. I’d Fly Free as as a Winged Spirit beyond dimensions laughing through eternity. A wiggle of the nose. A tug on the ear. Three 3 clicks of my red patent leather shoes and in milliseconds there I’d be on yet another Fabulous Adventure!! ❤ ❤
Sometimes when things Fall Apart people need to separate or be by themselves for a time. Sadly too many judge why a person stopped writing or whatever they were doing before. Since we never really know what’s going on in another persons life we need to support them in their decision. Burnout. Re-calibrate. Who knows how long the sabbatical need be?
Broken or Breaking Free??!!
Time to eliminate the unwanted commentary on Lives. People are too negative and just assume that they know what is right for somebody else without considering their situation. They settle into the Ass part of ASSume very well.
Isn’t the Truth so Extraordinarily Beautiful?? And I wear it so well!!
Mental and emotional pain is like being inflicted with mold or virus with every extending tentacles. It gets all tangled up within your DNA, your mind, your soul, your thoughts and it cannot be dispelled no matter what you do. It may go away for a while but like a reoccurring nightmare it returns usually with a vengeance. It becomes your destiny. Like that stalker that the police cannot apprehend.
Write Pain. Write Agony. Write Loss. As extensions of Oneself. My Consorts always waiting on me hand and foot. Swear like a Sail-lore in a Discount Junk store searching for merchandise buried under eons of Mummy dust.
Let’s stop trying to make everyone into Super Heroes. God is well able to speak to me or anyone else regarding the next steps in their lives.
So much judgement in the world and little or No understanding. Why are people such hypocrites? Let’s just shoot out the street lamps with bb guns and pour libation on dancing corpses loitering in the avenues.
Beware the Ides of March for it’s next victim may be you!! Your Brutus is just around the corner waiting. Waiting for your next steps. Don’t think that you can escape because you won’t. Life can take you in directions that you had no plans for.
One may fall asleep under the shade tree outbursts of vipers and snakes slithering through bushes and under the vegetation. Ribald. Psychological bullshit.
Let the talking donkey bring the professors salvation. Asses on two legs arrayed in bright robes. Dazzled by brilliance. Suckled on lies.
Keep in mind the Mole People. The homeless who live within the NYC subway system. They once were babies. They once had what we choose to call normal lives but now they must live underground hidden from the denizens of the day. Emerging only when necessity beckons. Not so much difference between you or the sewer people. The Rat Tribe is here to stay. Like a piece of unclaimed luggage going around in circles on the carousel.
Live your truth but don’t be critical of others truths for their are many truths within this multi-dimensional existence.
Your body can heal from bruises, bumps, cuts and breaks but your mind can never heal from emotional, physical or psychological abuse.
I am a rape survivor. I was raped when I was 19 but the abuse did not stop there. Throughout most of my adult life I have been the object of sexual harassment, domestic violence, bullying, workplace violence etc… For a long time I tried to cover up my wounds by going to church, reading my Bible, prayer, exercise, having productive hobbies such as photography, practicing Buddhist meditation, getting out into Nature, affirmations, playing Gospel, Inspirational and uplifting music, read books that are supposed to show you how you can get deliver from your thoughts, listening to progressive positive videos and podcasts, and so on. You name it I’ve tried it or am still using these strategies.
During the last 40 odd years I’ve been hospitalized repeatedly for Depression. I’ve been on all types of anti-depressants and psychosis drugs/pills to no avail. I spent two weeks on the psych ward as a prisoner at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn, NY. One of the worst hospitals in New York. I was forced to take medication that caused panic attacks, breaks with reality, hallucinations and everything else these drugs are supposed to fix. I saw things there that scared the hell out of me and frightened me so badly that I promised myself I would never return to the hell hole again. Just thinking about that place causes nightmares.
Believe me when I say that the cure is worse than the disease.
After being released from Dante’s Inferno I began to realize that I will never escape the effects of the trauma. I will always have flashbacks, nightmares, triggers, night terrors and fears that nobody except those who’ve gone through my experience can understand. I know I will never have a loving, caring relationship with a man because too much water has passed under the bridge and I rarely trust men. My history and my experiences are my reality no matter how many times I read or watch that book/movie called The Secret.
I still do all the things I stated in the early paragraph but now as I approach my sixth decade on this earth I realize that I cannot run away from me. I was looking for a fix or a cure that does not exist. I must accept my failures, flaws, and shortcomings because no matter what I do inside my mind I will remain the same.
However all is not lost as I know when I pass from Labor to Reward I will receive my healing in Heaven and my suffering will come to an end. Finally I will find peace.
One thing that I will do when I see Jesus is ask him why I had to go through all this pain and what I did to cause it. Was there something wrong with me. That is something for which I really want an answer.
So that is my response to today’s word prompt despite the fact that I know folks won’t like my words and will say that my feelings and emotions are not true or valid but deep inside I know that my truth is my reality no matter how much I try to change it. You can’t run from yourself.
You can learn a lot from Lydia...(It's a song, not a promise.)
Exposing Injustice, the Fight for Freedom Continues!
Inspiration . Fashion . Beauty . Food . Creativity
Sem pretensões... O único desejo é compartilhar com as pessoas o que escrevo.
Motivate. Elevate. Laugh. Live Positively...
Let's Get To The Point....Together!
Howling For Justice!
Romantic-Suspense & Thriller Writer. (London, UK)
three lives lived with authenticity, whimsy, oils-sense, and passion
Keep On Moving
Musings of a Progressive Realist in Wonderland
traditional haiku in the english language
Sriram Janak - Photography
Fun info on beauty, travel, living & looking better
I am the Afrikan Diaspora
Fit Body & Mind
Adventures in life from the Sunshine State to the Golden Gate