abusive relationships, emotional abuse, free form poetry, mental illness, narcissistic abuse, poetry, spoken word, spoken word poetry, women abuse

Blood Spatter

.

Break the bread

Roughly

With both fists

Digging in

Crumbs

Falling over your feet

Then spit the wine

straight out

of your mouth full of lies

Harshly enough that droplets

Slide down your hair

Like blood spatter

At a

crime scene

Red

Staining

Your teeth

After all

Isn’t that what

this relationship

Has really meant to you?

Or did you allegedly

Love me?

Consume the last

Bits of crumbs

Lick them from your

Exposed toes

Go ahead

You might as well

Those are the last

Remnants of what we had

There will be no more

Feasting for your hunger

You will always

Let the need drive you

And so you sink

As I expected

Slithering back into

The dark hole

That becomes you

 

 

healing poetry, mental illness, poetry, spoken word

Red Moon 🌘

🌖

Mystical mother moon

Flood me with your beautiful dreams

Of timeless memories from past and future

Intertwined and masterfully mixed

Into this one moment of silence bewitched

Gracing me with your empowerment

For I am more that my earthly story

And I am expansive beyond this narrative

That tries to hold me to its limitations

I am one with you and all of your dreams

Your wondrous ever changing color schemes

The surging passion that your magic brings

Envelope me in your hypnotic streams

Of arising consciousness

And new found dreams

🌙

 

 

mental illness, spoken word

Quiet the Clock – Spoken Word Poetry

The clock ticks on

tick tick

The hands

go round

round and round

The time elapses

tick tock

‘Till I feel drowned

That heartless clock

Tick tick

I turn away

tick tick

To make it stop

Stop. STOP!

I want to rest

And

what  I want

is…

for time to stop!

Just for an hour

Let me catch up

I need to rest…

I have  become

tick tick

Simply exhausted

tick tock

This linear time

tick tick

Torments my mind

tock tick

I want to change

tock tick

 I know it’s strange

tick tock tick tock tick tock

For god’s sake! , Enough already, with the tick tick tock tock

Tock tick tock tick NOW STOP!

SSHHHHH!

sshhhh!

shhh!

shh!

Quieter

Be very quiet

whisper

very

very

very

softly

s  o   f   t   l   y

Be very still

Untie your mind

Just turn away

Pretend you’re blind

Pretend you’re deaf

Become oblivious

and now…

you will find…

The clock has stopped

{finally)

I made it so

(I think I did)

It needed a “time out”

(time out)

to save my soul…

(my tortured soul)

Just let me rest…

I’m very tired

No tick , no tock

No tock , no tick

no tick tock tick tock tock tick tock tick

Universal silence

Universal bliss

Be very still

Shhh!

Don’t wake up

the clock

Don’t wake him up

I don’t want to hear

That NOISY CLOCK

#domestic abuse, #narcissism, #narcissistic personality disorder, abusive relationships, aftermath of narcissistic abuse, free form poetry, healing poetry, mental illness, poetry, PTSD from domestic abuse, PTSD from narcissistic abuse, spoken word

The Mimics

Creativity

Producing creative work

That is truly your own

Whether it be art or music

Poetry or fiction

A new yoga posture to share

Decorating a lampshade

Or painting an old chair

Imagination, creativity and discovery

Can counter the darkness

Of the Soul-less ones

Who can merely mimic others

Emulate emotions they do not feel

And injure others for their own gain

They are shadows walking the earth

Hollow except for darkness

and contempt for those

That have authentic minds and hearts

Your act of creating and self expression

Can counter the darkness

Of the soul-less ones

that walk the earth in pretense

Merely to mimic and exploit

To sadistically seduce

In order to drink the pure energies

Of the empaths and the artists

Wandering from one victim to the next

Wash, rinse, repeat

 

 

compassion, depression, empowerment, encouragement, free form poetry, friendships, Healing after abuse, healing from abuse, humanity, inspiration, inspirational, kindness, Kindness self esteem, life coaching, life coaching narcissistic abuse, mental health, mental illness, philosophy, quotes, relationships, self love, self-esteem, self-help, spiritual, spirituality, spoken word, spoken word poetry

What to Live For

Live for yourself. Create your reality. Listen to your inner voice. Nurture your inner child and your emotional wounds.

Live for the connection of all living things and for the value of life and existence.

Live for loving others. Do random acts of kindness. Search out special people to share intimate relationships with.  Passion and sensuality are part of being human and part of spirituality.

Live to love animals and nature. Be kind and mindful. Treat living things with respect and care.

Live for your visions, hopes and dreams. Be creative, inventive and original.

Live to fight against evil and injustice. Be the advocate for those who have no voice.

Teach others to be sometimes still, and other times to roar like a lion.

 

gentlekindnesscoaching.com

 

#domestic abuse, #narcissistic personality disorder, abusive relationships, aftermath of narcissistic abuse, domestic abuse, Fiction, free form poetry, horror, mental illness, narcissist, narcissistic abuse, narcissistic parents, Narcissistic psychpath, Narcissists, poetry, red flags of a narcissist, red flags of abuse, spoken word, Traits of a psychopath

The Prison Woman and the Maiden

Walking past the black iron bars

Of the outdoor prison, in the square

Where people were taken for reasons unknown

And locked behind the black iron bars there

A maiden felt her wrist taken hold

by a prisoner dressed in back and gold

The inmate was pretty, but worse for wear

She wore withered flowers in her hair

The maiden had never been near this dark place

But she saw great compassion in the prisoner’s face

The worn woman held onto the young woman’s  hand tight

and pulled her in close under the evening star light 

The sky was filled with seas of silvery  stars

The maiden saw the prison woman had deep painful scars

“Take this and listen to me”

Said the woman so sweet,

“This small velvet bag contains rubies to keep”

The maiden drew close to the woman to hear

Then secrets she whispered into her young ear…

“If by one the rubies glare

Be alert for the monster’s stare

If by two or more they light

Avert  your gaze and take swift flight

If by 8 or 9 they should shine

There is no wasting time

Hide the gems and claim to be blind

The creature is already inside your mind

Only the stones of red can tell

When you are close to a creature of hell…”

She bade the maiden hide the gift in her dress

And run very fast without turning back

She said to keep running no matter the sounds

She might hear behind her….the creature was coming  ’round

“Now run and run fast

 Heed well  what I say

Those rubies of red will save your young life one day

Stay on your path and do not get distracted

By anyone along who calls you sweet names

Hold fast to the red gems and keep them quite safe

Their light of the truth will save you

from shame and disgrace”

So the maiden held fast to the gems she kept hidden

And ran like the prisoner woman had bidden

She wanted to turn and look back if she dared

But the prison woman had forbade her to peek

The monster was coming and the woman knew all too well

What would happen to her if she looked

His blue eyes would meet hers

And his trance would be strong

And the rubies would  light up in vain

This monster was a powerful one

And the maiden would fall

For his charm and the song 

he would sing just for her

The prisoner watched the young maiden go straight

Along the path and away from the gate

Stuck behind black iron bars

The woman looked up at the moon and the stars

She couldn’t get free, but her truth was outside

No bars could hold the rubies of red

The gems brought her hope

For the one she passed them to

Having fashioned them out of her blood

Over time and from terrible pain

The red stones lifted her name

Outside of the prison-master’s walls

Then the screaming began

But the maiden never turned

She knew she possessed the keys

in the form of the ruby stones

to shed light on the dark ones

In the small velvet bag that was hidden in her dress

And to turn and look at the creature

Would likely mean her death

If one gem would light, she would be very cautious

If two or more glimmered, she’d turn her back

If 8 or 9 burned bright, she would run through the night

Because those rubies of red were like red flags of light

 

 

 

 

 

free form poetry, mental illness, poem, poerty, spoken word

Time and Perception

Somewhere there are open seas

Waves more powerful than any man

Dolphins playing together

Never minding any schedule or

The time on the clock

Time is stopped …yet still moving

Relative to the perception of

The particular creature or living thing

Is it in the pressing forward,

that we live?

Or in the moment …that suspends itself…

Stopping all clocks…

and defying the rules,

that humans have designed

To try to contain, explain, manipulate,

rule over, control and wield time…

Like a sword or a crude tool

Is time less powerful than the ocean?

Can we contain the waves ?

Or make them stop undulating?

With all of our clocks, wristwatches,

calendars and planners

We have lost truth and importance

Priority, patience and resilience…

Compassion and empathy

Intimacy and detachment

There has been a delusion

Created by people we never met

And taught to our brains

Filed and coded into the subconscious

But it is wrong in important ways

The arrogance of man to define time

And attempt to rule over it

In such superficial ways

For time is not without us…

It is within and part of us…

Our reality is a perception

And perception is our reality

Each perception somewhat unique

yet the same

To separate and detach from this delusion…

Created by others who want to rule you

Control you, manipulate you

And own you…

Would be truly powerful…

Time is a perception

Beyond understanding and control

And yet…

Manipulated and controlled by your perception

 

 

 

 

mental illness, mindfulness, poetry, silence, spoken word

Only the Sound of the Wind

Silence

Finally

No people around

Peace to think 

Only the sounds

of the beautiful wind

It was probably making those noises before

Covered up by the all the noise

Everyone calling

Wanting something

Endless demands

Endless interruptions

There is a gentle peace in solitude

If only for an hour

Late in the night

Sometimes I think

Insomnia

is my way to have a few hours

of solitude 

and quiet

The incessant stream of hearing my name

Knowing that I will be interrupted

That the peace will be disturbed 

at any time

during the daylight hours

It wears on me

It makes my long for

The quiet of the night

Finally here

Alone

Solitude

Peace

Release

Reprieve

Silence

Except for the sounds

of the

Magical  Wind

anxiety, depression, insomnia, life, mental illness, poetry, spoken word

Insomnia Sucks – Humorous Insomnia Poem

Insomnia Sucks
I can’t count the ducks
They say to count sheep
It don’t put me to sleep

Imagery is great
But it keeps me up late

Now it’s 6:30
The dishes are dirty
I know I should wash them
But I want to squash them

If this made you smile
Then it was worthwhile

And I know that you know
And you know that I’m so
And that sounded brainless
The sheep are now nameless
My mind is so aimless

Too tired to write stanzas
About what a woman and man does

This poem gets worse
With each Passing Verse

Or maybe it’s clever
In some profound way
It might change your life
Or just make you say…

“You should go to sleep
You’re brain is not deep
You’re just overtired
And think you’re inspired
But thank you for trying
Your poem I’ll keep”

So now it is time
To count the damn sheep
And if I am able
I’ll fall fast asleep

And while I am sleeping
I’ll dream I’m awake
And when I am waking
I’ll wish I could sleep

The whole silly thing
It just goes round and round
But now I have you
And you know what I mean
When I say…

That I paint the sheep
Red, blue and green
Cause I can’t count them nightly
And sleep so politely

emotional abuse, life, mental abuse, mental health, poetry, spoken word

Scapegoat

Things the little girl was told by her parents…

You are too fat

You are too selfish

You are not trying

You are not good at that

You should think about others

By others I mean ME

By others I mean everyone in the family 

But not yourself

You should help your sisters

They are smarter than you

You have to work harder than they do

to do what they can do

Poor thing

No. you can not blame it on abuse

there is no abuse

abuse has nothing to do with your homework

or how well you do in school

You just are not as smart as your sisters

You should forgive your mother

You should go back and take more abuse

It is only mental

She can’t help it

It is not as bad as you say

You made that up

Why did you protect your face when I reached for the salt

I was not going to strike you

what do you mean you do not know you did that?

You clearly blocked your face

You did that to hurt my feelings

I am sure she never hit you

You are making that up

Tell me what is going on with you

You never share with me

You  never spend time with me

Why don’t you open up

What?

Why do you say things like that

Your life is not that bad

Why do you complain?

Now

Why have you stopped telling me what is going on with you?

Of course I will believe you

Just tell the truth

Not those exaggerated tales of woe

You are too quiet

You talk too much

You are getting fat again

The whole car will probably tip over

if you sit on that side of it

You know it causes damage to the car

for someone so fat to sit in it

oh you have lost weight

that is because I pointed it out to you

It is my accomplishment

I am so proud of myself

for you losing the weight

It could be more…but…

I guess it is the best that You can do…

So, what is going on with you?

You should go make up with your sister

She did not mean it

I am sure did not really hit you

You are exaggerating

You are the one that has to forgive

You did pretty good on that homework

For You….

We all know you are not as smart as the other children…

You have to apologize

Even though they hit you

You must have upset them

You have to keep going back

for more abuse

You are the scapegoat