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art ~ the process of surfaces

I find it interesting that one ‘item’, when dissected,

can form, something else.

The process of deconstruction doesn’t just pertain to

‘disassembling’ something.

When you dissect something,

the unfolding process, of other surfaces, happens.

Take this log for example.

On it’s own, and in it’s own right,

it is a beautiful, bold

piece of macrocarpa.

It’s outer edges are rough and raw,

curved and robust.

You can see that it was once a proud,

free standing tree.

When it is dissected, it still holds it’s pride

and power;

but its shows us it’s insides.

It’s ridges and ripples.

It’s lines and veins.

It’s rough beauty.

It gives us something to touch;

to run our fingers over.

To smell,

To ‘taste’ with our senses.

It’s life and it’s essence,

is laid bare.

And we can see where it has been;

What it holds.

Upon closer inspection, it’s power

and it’s might, is shared with us.

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artivism ~ for her, and me, and them

All my life, well 41 years of it anyway, I’ve had to defend myself. Unfortunately, the form of defense that I have employed has usually, also been to my detriment. In that, I have hidden, run, anesthetized, gone silent…held my breath…to maintain my survival.

And this is the aftermath and ongoing cruelty of infant or child sexual assault, for its victim. It’s no longer some pervert cunt whose trying to get into your tiny panties…its the continuous hiding from the possibility of impending assault. It’s Us; still trying to defend ourselves from those prying fingers.

But those fingers don’t exist in the here and now anymore. Just in the senses…in the dreams…in the reminders…in the head…in the heart…and they are more than enough to terrify an avid horror film buff.

And as I wake this morning, to the realization that I have been my own worst number 2 enemy…as number 1 is lost somewhere in the open world…I wonder; am I going to defend myself differently? What does that differently look like?

I think it would look like what I do for; have done for my kids. It would look scary and fierce. It would be quiet, but firm…unyielding. It would defend and die for the life of…the growth of…the success of. It wouldn’t take any shit and wouldn’t take No for an excuse or an answer.

So if that is my new truth…that I; the person who hid, survived but died inside every day…if I; am truly worth fighting for…then today must be the day that happens.

I have listened and remained silent to the uneducated and unlearned and uncompassionate taunts of “get over it all ready … stop using it as an excuse … that was years ago … you’re so unaffectionate … you’re not better, your worse … you need to forgive … you need to move on”. And my defense, or best defense, has been an argument. Has been a plea, really.

To listen, to understand…let me educate you so that you will understand. Let me beg, plead and cry so that you will understand. Let me share my horrors with you so that you will understand.

Not realizing, they don’t want to understand…they just want me to be different. Not such an unwelcome truth.

So, for her, and me…I’ll keep talking the unwelcome truth…the mundane horrors…not just to educate; but to defend my position; my truth; my battle; my scars; my reality; my healing; my moving on and growing up.

I’ll also speak for all of those that didn’t make it out of that little dark room with prying fingers and filthy deeds. ALL those little people who never got the chance to get out, grow up, get a job and a family. For all those little people, just like me…who grew into big people, and have rocked in the corner, for far to fucking long.

First Published on: Mar 2, 2016 @ 07:04 ❤

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these eyes

these eyes have seen

been

there and here.

crimson fog

orange hue.

glazed, yet glassy. moving

through the halls

down the stairs.

noting the darkness surrounds

everything.

the smoke in the air

the spoons on the stove

the oil dripping

from the caps.

no food in the darkness,

but bottles and bottles.

of tears

of piss

of losses

of pills

the haze it follows

her. me.

through the dark.

fuck 1

fuck 2

fuck 3

it makes no difference.

a woman once was.

her womb a sacred store house.

now.

slaughtered and wretched.

and she passes dem pipes

passed.

watching them inhale

exhale.

their lives.

but no high

no low.

just sweet balance.

tranquil balance.

tomorrow, she will shit not.

too constipated to care.

to heavy.

eventually wiping her ass

hole on yesterdays news.

and no food.

just drink.

no touch

just invasion.

but

sweet balance.

have these eyes

seen to many.

sorrows.

to readjust

in the light.

to remember.

is to smell.

to feel.

to weep.

memories

are held in

these eyes

.

***

First Published on: Jun 20, 2016 @ 00:07 ❤

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photography ~ night skies

How beautiful is she.

Always changing, is she.

Never the same,

although the same.

After each new day,

Comes each new sunset.

Her glorious colours

and shades,

Shimmer, shine

and glisten.

And as she goes to sleep

beneath the earth;

She leaves behind

footprints,

to remind us where shes

been.

And that she will return

apopo.

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please

Be patient, if you can
I don’t mean to be slow
I’m not trying to annoy
Or irritate your world
I just don’t always understand
As you do
Just as you didn’t understand
When you didn’t understand.
Please don’t hang up
Or take that tone,
You know that one
That presumes stupidity
Just as I didn’t do with you
When you were too small
To understand,
That you didn’t understand.
Because when you sigh,
When you roll your eyes,
When you chide and chastise,
When you berate and belittle –
You hurt my heart.
You hurt my head.
Your insensitivity
Makes me wonder
What on earth I actually taught you.
But most of all you forget
That you were once unable
And I enabled.
That once you didn’t understand
And I taught.
I’m not asking for any extra
Than I deserve.
Please
Be patient.
Or don’t speak to me at all.
That would be easier,
For now.

***

First Published on: Jun 11, 2016 @ 18:14 ❤

use yah .. initiative??

“I expected you to

Use Your Initiative”

he says …

as he’s

looking for his undies

his socks

the lid for the milk

his car keys

his eftpos card

his appointment card

his phone

the lawn mower

the rubbish bin

his drawers,

where all his clothing lives

…..

shall I go on?

***

First Published on: Jun 8, 2016 @ 09:53 lol

in-same in-sane

sane is a 9 to 5

a house in the burbs

.2 kiddies

marriage.

apparently.

sane is also

waiting politely

in a que, that has no end

its filling in paperwork

when your

heart is giving way

its choosing the chocolate

sprinkles

because everyone else

does.

so sane,

is same?

?

that

seems a tad

in-sane.

***

First Published on: Jun 5, 2016 @ 22:58 😉

that day

there comes a day

in everyones life

when rubber meets the road

when push comes to shove

when the ice is cracked

when the birds take flight

when the wind blows through your hair

when you let loose

fly free.

When your all

outta

quotes

and

memes

and

you

just

gotta

make

your

own

shit

up

!

***

First Published on: May 3, 2016 @ 10:07 😉

I

sideways motion ,
a drop and a descent
a scream,
and a movement
as I waited
impaired

to seek assist
-ance
you would think
is not to much
but as you
chortle
like a retarded
budgie
it would seem
you are more
impaired
than, I.

I does not care
of your busy
of your thursday
of your transport mode
I does not care
of your feline
your fellow ship
your a point
your busy
I, cares about I
not lame
ass wiping
cunty excuse s

day job
or night job
your job
is to provide
assist – ance

***

First Published on: Apr 29, 2016 @ 00:50 #medical&mentalhealth

transparen~cy

i’m beginning

to see

to understand

as i shed

the layers

that i once

was

that you still

see

me

as i was

and cannot

understand

anything else.

which means

you are looking

 at

what makes

you

comfortable

not at what

actually

is

***

First Published on: Apr 9, 2016 @ 14:20 ❤