Nekot's Tokens

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Nekot's Tokens

Post by nekot » Fri Mar 09, 2007 7:52 am

A Bio Snippet

Nekot stands for token backwards. Poetry gives a token view of someone's soul, and sometimes can be misinterpreted..sort of like backasswards. :wink:

I write because it is part of my wholeness. One day that may change, but until then I'll continue to lay ink to parchment.

With the exception of 'Lost and Found' and 'Snippets and Bits,' I have organized my pennings by date, most recent month and then into history. It is easy and provides me a type of journal....but mainly, it's easy.

I enjoy journaling, poetry, memoir, reading, music, jigsaw puzzles, art, Sudoku, bicycling, and communing with nature and animals.

I hope you are encouraged and inspired with your visit. Thank you for visiting. :hello:

Cheers and peace,

Shameless plugs:
Poetry Pages Poet Laureate
Poetry Pages Books
Poetry for Suzanne

Nekot's blogs:
parchment anthology: poetry
toss & ripple: memoir, scribblings
a bike and its girl: cycling
soulfeet: a journal past


Lost & Found
**Lost & Found**


Snippets and Bits

Journal Entry - I Guess I am a Dreamer
Journal Entry - Play: A Deep Subject
Journal Entry - Anxiety/Depression: one gal's perspective
Journey through Memoir (an index)
Spiritual Journey - Seeking: Life Along The Way
Wellness Journey - Beyond Survival: A Woman's Guide to Hope


Reality: 2010

december, 2010
vapor pressure

ocotober, 2010
~ random thoughts in october ~

september, 2010
flat screen

august, 2010
deja vu

may, 2010
Hiking Song
Backpacking Jingle

february, 2010


Reason&Rhyme: 2009

december, 2oo9
Blogging Doodles
Day's End

november, 2oo9
Maybe someday....
I talked to God today...

september, 2oo9
Ford Fairlane 500

july, 2oo9
Mile Post 168

june, 2oo9
Safe Place

march, 2oo9
Missed It

february, 2009
The Final Drum

january, 2009
Three Miles South of The Saddle
Now and Then


Hmmm...: 2008

december, 2oo8

november, 2oo8
An Eagle Soars

october, 2oo8
Pondering(a co-write with Sojourner)

september, 2oo8

august, 2oo8
Convalescing in the Recliner
Tribute for Acetabular

july, 2oo8
freedom is mine (acrostic)
Dirty Fingers

june, 2oo8

may, 2oo8

april, 2oo8
Be Gentle with the Tide
Random Thoughts One April Day:
In the Grander Scheme

march, 2oo8
Zephyr's Croon

february, 2oo8
Rhymes and Feet
Knock, Knock
Ledger's Balance
Cabooses, Cups, and Cobblestone

january, 2oo8
Fifth Floor
Give Me Walden
Tribe (acrostic)
living rhythms
Sixth Dimension
Emotional Rape


Emancipation: 2007

december, 2oo7
Bottom of the Slippery Slope
Child's View
My Soul Doth Smile
Seagull Tattoo

november, 2oo7
Elliptical Enchantment
Remnants in Cocoons

october, 2oo7
A Time to Every Purpose
The Mighty Mountain (Special thanks to Annie)

september, 2oo7
Datura Stramonium: To Dance with the Devil
If I Had Wings
The Cricket
Will There Be? (Inspired by Tom Talbott)
Treading Water
Rear-view Mirror

august, 2oo7
Procrastination phd
How Can I Not Believe? (Special thanks to Byron)
The Ride
Head-on Collision
Ground Zero
Metacarpal Vestment

july, 2oo7
Abandonment - Part II
Get Over It
Free Me From This Bitterness

june, 2oo7
The Great Archeologist
"Until Then"
Carousel Sphere
Praise (acrostic)

may, 2oo7
Lessons from Darkness
Leave Me Smiling
Abandonment - Part I
Dear John (The Real Thing) (To my husband)
For Me, For You
High Tide

april, 2oo7
Butterflies Will Dance
A Broom and A Tiara
One Piece of Trash
Hashed Ink
Perhaps It's Not Rebellion
Open Hands

march, 2oo7
each soul a gift
Soul Stew
If Only
In a Fishbowl
Bubble Trouble (Special thanks to Norm)
Approval No Longer the Master
A Bow and A Curtsy
significance beneath my sandal

february, 2oo7
Lolly Pop (add a verse)
Imprisoned Memories
Risen Corpses
A Whisper
Interview Clip
Let Me Try Pissed
This Day
Purge Me
Time Management

january, 2oo7
Inside the Cabinet Dark
Vitruvian Self Exposed
Feel Me
Senses (Inspired by Watchman Nee)


Emergence: 2004 - 2006

Of Leaves, Squirrels, Dogs, and Dances
PINHOLE VIEW: A TRILOGY Prose one of three: June 2005
PINHOLE VIEW: A TRILOGY Prose two of three: December 2005
PINHOLE VIEW: A TRILOGY Prose three of three: February 2006
Meadow Dance
Shattered Pieces
Of Paths and Surrender


Awakening: 1999 - 2003

Ode to Email
God's Healing Cover
Restless Sea


Suppressformity: 1982 - 1998

Our Dwelling Place
Turn on the Light
In Loving Memory: 1922 - 1996


Eureka: 1978 - 1981

The Light of Life
The Willing Heart
Never Doubt
My Life is a Gift
Last edited by nekot on Sat Aug 01, 2009 9:14 pm, edited 181 times in total.
~eloquently scattered~
nekot's tokens


User avatar
Poetry Piper
Posts: 1568
Joined: Tue Jan 09, 2007 10:11 pm
Location: North Carolina, USA

Post by nekot » Tue May 01, 2007 6:44 am

**Lost & Found**


in a kaleidoscope of
wandering through
ever changing
foggy night
in the crossroads
no white line
my pen
scribbling doodles
searching for words
to describe nothingness
my cane
abandoned to some corner
holding up two walls



my heart
in a kaleidoscope
of memories
once bound
in crystal tears
unfilled void
gaping for sustenance
abandoned to
the inkwell
the cookie jar
once filled with sweets
now emptied
left with only crumbs

Back to Index :arrow:


Reality: 2010

december, 2010

vapor pressure

My stomach gnarls as i read
smooth words drip
one letter at a time
from finger tips
tapping 'cross your key board

You write of wounds
your own and others
yet what of those
you've inflicted
amidst your so-called
justified tone

A hypocrite to hypocrites
one who offers healing
while exacting harms
without remorse
dismissing the inflictions
as inconsequential

Such can cause my blood to boil
perhaps burning away the chaff
of my own self-hatred
to which you at one time
offered solace

Your genius calls
and you are heeding
i'm sure some will profit
i pray it be not at the expense
of another wounded soul

12/16/10 ... ssure.html

Back to Index :arrow:


october, 2010

~ random thoughts in october ~

I am not quiet inside
There are hints of fear
Emotional bits letting me know

I am not in control

I know the feeling will pass
The hints will quiet
The bits will dissolve

I know the sun will rise

There are boils on my left thumb
They extend down my left wrist
They too will dissolve

Countless memories of hives

I dreamt last night
Of the big house with rooms not used
Of water leaks and mountain views

I dreamt of the auditorium

Five pianos and an organ
Furniture old and dusty
Crowded into every corner

We never did tour the bathrooms

My body ages and carries more weight
Exercise is no longer my lifestyle
Dramatic changes are on the horizon

Sometimes I miss Facebook

october 31, 2010 ... tober.html

Back to Index :arrow:

september, 2010


underneath my skin
just beneath the surface
an unreachable itch
vacillating, floating
trying to push through

to reveal, to disclose
to expose, to liberate

the tiny morsels
suppressed by authority
screaming for release
so as to not be buried

where 1000 splinters
morph into boards
solidified plywood
encasing my heart
as it silently pulses

september 10, 2010 ... mbalm.html

Back to Index :arrow:

flat screen

move outside this screen
the virtual tempter
flat, two dimensional

sight and touch
neither fully embracing
depth or harmony

length and height
click and space

causing the mind
to dive deeper
into non-presence

causing the body
to sit, immobile,
stationary in false-reality

causing emotions
to swirl, unable to break
bonds of addictions

move outside this screen
the virtual tempter
flat, two dimensional

september 12, 2010 ... rtual.html


august, 2010


Had a hard day today

A friendship died

And I'm very confused as to why or how

I endeavored to open the door

To talk, to understand

But the door was shut with my face in it

It hurt

Apparently I am responsible for the death

The friend told me

"You destroyed our friendship"

And I don't even know how I committed the murder

I never want to burden a friend

With the responsibility they need to defend me

I don't make a good defense barrier

Maybe that means I am a rotten friend

Maybe I can't be trusted

And now my heart wonders

Can it trust itself again

08/02/10 ... ggers.html

Back to Index :arrow:

deja vu

pen paralyzed
murdered muse

it were a dream

and I'd awake
to discover it

august 10, 2010 ... ja-vu.html

Back to Index :arrow:



Sweaty. Sticky.
Salty beads roll down my torso
Trekking poles aid my sinews
Sinews aged, one-half century

Ascent. Rocks.
I peer ahead
Daughter of my youth has stopped
Stopped to converse with two passers-by

Trudge. Halt.
I stand beside my offspring
Introduced to the travelers
Travelers of 10,000 miles, gathering 10,000 dreams

Unload. Chat.
The four of us
Loosen straps, unclick clips
Clips that hold the packs, packs upon our backs

Serendipity. Resonance.
Sharing details of our lives
Each keenly aware of significance
Significance of this wilderness crossing

Dreams. Boldness.
"What is your life's dream?"
"If you were 10 times bolder,
how would you change the world?"

Corridors. Doubt.
My mind freezes
Searching its corridors, unsure
Unsure of my life's dream

Video. Sound.
Of the 10,000, I am 241
Daughter is number 242
Number 242 recorded on the digital screen

Humbleness. Pride.
I listen as Number 242 responds
And it dawns upon me
It dawns upon me that I behold

Before my eyes and with my ears
My life's dream fulfilled
One of my own 10,000 dreams
One of my own 10,000 tears

10,000 tears of gratitude

august 19, 2010 ... ogeny.html

Back to Index :arrow:

may, 2010

Hiking Song

If rocks could sing
What would they say
Would they grow feet
Come out to play
Or would they stay
Under the ground
Watch us humans
Toil up and down

may 5, 2010 ... odles.html

Back to Index :arrow:


Heart, smiles
Peace, deep
Life, breathes
Satisfaction, sweet

John, back home
Sarah, with Yerba
Joshua, on ladders
Carol, in love

Earth, spins
Sun, warms
Ocean, rolls
Moon, smiles

All is well

may 7, 2010 ... odles.html

Back to Index :arrow:

Backpacking Jingle

Quads, hamstrings
Trekking poles and hip flexors.
Quads, hamstrings,
Trekking poles and hip flexors.
Quads, hamstrings,
Trekking poles and hip flexors.

That's how I make it 'cross the mountain.

Feet relax.
Ankles supple.
Long strides.
Ankles firm.

Quads, hamstrings
Trekking poles and hip flexors.

That's how I make it 'cross the mountain.

mid-may, 2010 ... odles.html

Back to Index :arrow:


february, 2010


Sitting upon cushioned chair
Tapping on the keyboard
Pausing to think, take a breath
Slurping on a smoothie

Leaning back on two wooden legs
Smiling, words drifting through
Rubbing hands so as to warm
Sighing, stretching, yawning

Almost time for bed
But first a toasted
English muffin with
Blueberry spread



Back to Index :arrow:


In and out

Some with laces
One goes on right foot
Other slips on left

Some with snaps
One covers right hand
Other protects left

Some with anchors
One pokes right lobe
Other pierces left

Some with stones
These band fingers
Those circle toes


02/28/2010 ... hment.html

Back to Index :arrow:


Reason&Rhyme: 2009

december, 2009

Blogging Doodles

I'm aware you read my scribbles;
at times it embarrasses me.

I think you think,
Why does she do it?

Put all these curves
and lines for folks to read?

I dunno, sometimes I wonder too;
tomorrow could be my last day.

Part of my remains would be
this stuff in cyber space,

until the net collapses
and the temporal is blipped.

So I'll just keep typing
'til I decide to quit.

tap, tap, tap
flip, flip, flip

december 7, 2009 ... odles.html

Back to Index :arrow:


Day's End

Today came.
Today went.

Reading. Writing. Speaking.
Singing. Hoping. Giving.
Receiving. Smiling. Laughing.
Working. Typing. Thinking.

Eyes now closing.
Feet tapping.

Pause. Pray.
Give thanks.

december 18, 2009 ... s-end.html

Back to Index :arrow:

november, 2009

Maybe someday....

I wish the world were kind
but it's not

I wish that money grew on trees
but it doesn't

I wish I could smell colors
but I can't

I wish I had gills to breath underwater
but I don't

I wish I were thinner
but I'm not

I wish humans treated one another better
but they don't

I'm still hoping though
and always will

november 6, 2009 ... meday.html

Back to Index :arrow:

I talked to God today...

I talked to God today
and asked if he was near

Breeze tickled my toes
but I couldn't see the breeze

Birds warbled among trees
but I didn't see the birds

Crickets chirped amidst ferns
but no crickets could be seen

Cars hummed on distant streets
but I did not see the cars

Stereo bass boomed from the road
but no speakers could I see

Golden leaves of autumn shone
but sun had moved beyond my sight

Lonely leaf drifted to earth
but gravity was invisible

I wanted to see a snake today
I like snakes in the wild

Autumn sun invites them
to bathe before they hibernate

I wondered to myself,
God, do you hibernate?

Then my telephone buzzed
a welcome friend I heard

Yet I could not see the lovely face
to whom the voice belonged

I talked to God today
and asked if He was near

november 08, 2009 ... akers.html

Back to Index :arrow:

september, 2009

Ford Fairlane 500

Another anniversary
I always have trouble
In the months of nine and ten
Yet I fair better these days

Today I grieve
I grieve that which is lost
It's okay to grieve
Part of being human

I wish I could hold you
In my dreams I do

I wish I could hold
The little one too
At times I do

You may not understand that
And that's okay by me

But I think somewhere deep down
You do. Understand.
And that's okay too.

I must go to work today
I hope not to cry too much
My job is special to me
Holding the works of others' hands

Hands. You always had magic in yours.
Even the way you tied knots
I remember that

You strapping luggage on the top of that car
The old car parked in Circle Drive
In front of Emporia Hall

I think it was called Emporia Hall

And that's okay
It's okay that I recall

It's okay to miss it
It's okay to embrace it

You did a great job, by the way
Securing that luggage

Thank you for continuing to love me

september 27, 2009 ... e-500.html

Back to Index :arrow:


I like autumn
and winter
and spring
and summer

and up
and down
and sideways
and especially curves
on mountain roads

with fog it's hard to
the yellow line
at night

those little reflectors
help a lot

little eyes coming
up from the hardened tar

tar eyes
that's what they are

other eyes
live in the forest
whose pupils
shine like

in the

in autumn
in winter
in spring
in summer

september 29, 2009 ... tions.html

Back to Index :arrow:

july, 2009

Mile Post 168

The Saddle
Evening view

To the east dips the valley
To the west rises Buffalo
Astride the mountain's back
High upon The Saddle

Blustery gusts
Wind swept
Open face
Arms upstretched
Hands wide
Breezes swaddle
Magical still

Bid farewell to day star
Greet hello to orb's reflection
To the west dips the sun
To the east rises moon

Another day
The Saddle

july 5, 2009 ... t-168.html

Back to Index :arrow:

june, 2009

Safe Place

Photo ~
dismembered, napalmed leg
Dream ~
dismembered, bloodied appendage

I have been dismembered

To re-member is to bring back together
It's o.k. to remember

I am not in physical danger
I am safe
My physical needs are met

I am not in emotional danger
I can call for support
JK, John, friends

Sometimes I hurt
From what I am not sure
Just deep, deep pain

It's o.k. to cry in this safe place

june 29, 2009 ... place.html

Back to Index :arrow:

march, 2009

Missed It

Seeking, peering
O'er your shoulder
If only you had rear eyes
Neck could get some rest


About face, looking future
Vistas wide
Neck relaxes, until
You strain too hard


Failures, losses
Successes, gains
Bygones, by and byes
The only guarantees


Time in a bottle
Memories in pictures
Dreams await in visions
This moment


March, 2oo9

Back to Index :arrow:

february, 2009

The Final Drum

Mother your life was rich
Your eighty-three years were full
Seldom was there a dull moment
You gave of your life and soul

Through bee stings, braces, cracked bones
We sewed our adolescent wild oats
You believed in us to the end
Until we could thrive on our own

Your commitment to family was strong
Your endurance in care unique
You taught others to see the good
During trial answers to seek

Your loved ones will dearly miss you
Your wit, your heart, your smile
We will recall the good times
And there will be tears for awhile

Your sense of humor sustained you
We reach beyond time to mourn
Our palates await the Great Banquet
To savor your green beans and creamed corn

We love you Flo Rae
Friend, Aunt, Mom, Grandma
May your rest with Albert
Companion, Uncle, Dad, Grandpa

And together dance
On moonlit shores
Until then....

Your children, your family, your friends

february 2, 2009 ... =123651927 ... 18&t=58701

Back to Index :arrow:


Oil can in aged hand
Caretaker slicks the gears
"They rust when they have sat awhile
Moistened by only tears."

"I'll get them working one at a time
Squeak and turn until they're smooth
Time, patience, no rush at all
They'll almost be like new."

We sit and watch his nimble hands
Abe and Nanna at my side
His confidence always near
His quiet way soothes our minds

february 25, 2009

Back to Index :arrow:

january, 2009

Three Miles South of The Saddle

O Wind of the hills
ambling through naked trees
take my cares
let them ride Your waves

dispense them into tiny worlds
so they know their smallness
in the vast expanse

transform them
narrow to wide
let them feel the rain
to become ice crystals
on display
creating every color of the bow
hope for eyes to see

O Wind!!
power that transcends essence of the matters

january 23, 2oo9

note: The Saddle is one of my favorite local Overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Back to Index :arrow:

Now and Then

What is it that you seek
Peering past, o'er your shoulder
If only you had rear eyes
Your neck would get some rest

Why not stop?

About face, look forward
Vista wide
Neck relaxes

Until you strain to hard

Failure, losses
Successes, gains
Some past, others future
This moment
The only guarantee

Time in a bottle
Moments in pictures
Dreams await in visions
This moment
A time to sew

january 29, 2009


Hmmm....: 2008

december, 2008


An enigma
That's what they called her
I've heard it several times

Am I to follow the same fate

I'd rather die
Than to live out my days
On this ferris wheel

december 10, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:


resigned to fate
I sit on my rock
at the bottom
in this dry well

pit's mouth always in sight
light shines in
yet I am wearied
from climbing
and falling

fingernails caked with dirt
snide laughter
mocks my attempts
to escape this hole

if torrential rains pour
I'll drown down here
perhaps I could tread
hoping the waters
carry me up

december 17, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:

november, 2008

An Eagle Soars

Beauty more splendid than lily of the field
Bubbling like brook that sings
Strength of Appaloosa on the plain
Wisdom of redwood standing tall
Grace of eagle in flight

Your every heartbeat enlivened with hope
Every breath energized with life
Every cell performed its task valiantly
Some tore down
Others rebuilt
They battled the best they could
Served until the last breath

In Autumn light, red and golden hues,
A tree sheds its final leaf
Cloud lets go a snowflake
Icicle prisms dance your song
In Spring, the sweet aroma of new life
Will honor your every breath
The giant mammal will slap her mighty tail
On the ocean waters
Your laughter and awe to recall

Know you are honored
The ship in the harbor awaits
I hope one day we all shall sail
As far as our hearts desire

Thank you for being a friend
Thank you for sweet memories

November 25, 2008

Back to Index :arrow:


pressure from above
unseen, only felt
reality distorted
no exit route

narcotics, cold steel
moon upon the waters
voices in the head
cocktail mix for death

"hopeless failure
despicable soul
worthless carbon
self-indulgent fool"

blueprint emerges
with isolation as
the nexus
ingredients complete

yet, one thought
bars the doorway,
"fruit of my womb,
legacy worth life"

november 15, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:


The accuser once more tolls
A whipping to accrue
Abruptly interrupted
The guiltless child in view

You appear once again
So much larger than before
Your countenance now forward
Instead of toward the floor

"Are you gonna whip me now?"
You ask with candid face
My heart jumps to my throat,
"No, it only causes pain"

Uncomprehending stare,
Maybe now she understands!
I'm wearied from the beatings,
And the scars upon her hands

I inhale deep, catch my breath
Tears trickle down my cheek
You have no tears left to cry
For the freedom that you seek

Yes, you have been my scapegoat
And now it's time to cease
"Will you help me learn to trust
And with myself make peace?"

november 2, 2oo8 ... 24&t=58254

Back to Index :arrow:

~october, 2oo8~

(A co-write with Sojourner)

A ripple in the pond
lily pad afloat
I cast my care along
into the stagnant mote

Driven by a breeze
across the liquid mirror
the care makes haste away from me
with its stress and fear

Petal to petal, I dance
feather light and free
with each step a chance
voyage to fantasy

Pressing lightly into dream
reality's borders fade
unreal colours rise and gleam
all around enchanted glade

I leave the world behind
shake off its weight and pain
for I know that here I'll find
the will to smile again

october 16, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:



You stand, a far distance
tiny in the remote sphere
Small, unpretentious, homely
Barefoot child draped
in tattered frock

Alone, downcast
you dare not approach

All is quiet as I survey the scene

Can it be?
Are you the one,
the scapegoat?
What are the wages?

You quietly fade
never once looking up
Your countenance
forever branded
within me

I will not forget

october 31, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:

~september, 2oo8~


In upstate New York lives a man
Intelligent, witty, and kind
He gardens to harvest his land
While composing rhymes in his mind

That later spill onto the page
Keys clicking to and fro
Sometimes he must rearrange
To perfect the rhythm and flow

He likes tennis, biking, a smoke
Conversing with family and friends
I say he's a mighty fine bloke
With a heart where love never ends

If in your travels you meet him
Present him this rose from me
Thorns removed from the stem
I've gleaned much from his honesty :bow:

september 3, 2008 ... 18&t=57127

Back to Index :arrow:


(my attempt at a sonnet :mrgreen: )

They ridicule because he has no teeth
"What foolish man would ever stand for such
Never shall I mingle so far beneath
My compadres are nobler by far much"

They prate and grate, verbal self-righteous scoffs
Life continues, day by day; prattle ceased
Yet bane had spread much like a deadly cough
Unhidden scars condemned by the dis-eased

With song and hoe, toothless one tills his land
Harvest time, villagers procure his goods
The peacocks fill their bellies from his hand
While reprimanding with their oughts and shoulds

Scoffers die, one by one; slow gluttony
Toothless abides, sowing with harmony

september 19, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:

~august, 2oo8~

Convalescing in the Recliner

White walls
Sunlight through windows
An array of shadows
Each passing day

Breath, movement
Hands dare to speak
Replacing objects
High, low, front, back, side

Another day
Same white walls
Casting shadows
Of a different arrangement

Until, hands dare to speak again
Until, earth enters her next house
Life isn't stagnant
Nor her shadows

I fade into a world of dreams

August 20, 2008

Back to Index :arrow:


Tribute for Acetabular

You served well
You grew with me
Together we ran, we jumped, we danced
We made love

Every moment you were with me

Your pain then spoke
Sometimes I'd listen
Other times I'd push through
Cursing you beneath my breath

You heard every utterance

I'm sorry for my bitter words
Still, you continued to serve
The best you could
Still, you made your pain known

Now you are forever gone

In a matter of half-hours
Incision, folds, cuts, disengagement
It was time, you see
You lived with unforgiving pain

So did I

I think you'd be pleased
With your surrogate
Your peers and I have accepted it
Welcomed it, though it can never be you

It doesn't pulse with the life you had

Yet, it is becoming one with us
And we believe it will serve well
Valiantly, and hopefully
For our length of days

I honor you

I will not forget you
Thank you for your decades
Of life and service
I wonder....

Is there a hip heaven?

August 20, 2008

Back to Index :arrow:



Beauty more splendid than lily of the field
Bubbling like brook that sings
Strength of Appaloosa on the plain
Wisdom of redwood standing tall
Grace of eagle in flight

May your every heartbeat enliven with hope
Every breath energize with life
Every cell perform its task valiantly
Some that tear down
Others that rebuild
Harmonic choreography
For which they are uniquely designed

The bandit visitor to depart
Knowing this is not
Its time or place....
And never will be

I see you strolling the riverside, camera in hand
Basking in Autumn light, red and golden hues
I hear the crunch of snow beneath your boot
As you delight in prisms of icicles
The sweet aroma of spring with new life
Awakens your senses
Summer finds you on the sea,
Enthralled by her giant mammals
As their mighty tails slap the waters

If I could, I'd be with you now
Know you are in my heart
Day and night

August 30, 2008 ... 18&t=57114

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~july, 2oo8~


Dost thou think as I?
Dost thou feel as I?
Dost thou see as I?
Dost thou hear as I?

Aye, we see
through different eyes.

Yet the colors are the same.

july 12, 2oo8

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freedom is mine

for dreams imagined
each one significant
death of bitterness
my heart tenderly

i will embrace
stretch forth

moments to share
invitation to peace
now in time
every thought liberated

july 13, 2oo8

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what am i
supposed to believe?
what am i
supposed to do?

perhaps none of it is true
did i simply imagine?

Bare male physique
Sitting, towel wrapped
Far end of the room
Exposing secret parts

I pretend not to see
Look the other way
Yet I know he knows
I've freely given to others

it wasn't free, you know
i first gave my soul
to please, to satisfy
i craved to be loved

the first time~what was it like,
grotesque, pleasurable?

Time ticks
No recollection
Not even an echo
Memory swept

Events erased
Blank slates
Trauma's ash

Decades later, toxic tears
Grieving a death
Of unknown personage,
Only to discover

The death was my own

july 15, 2oo8

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Dirty Fingers

You point Your fingers
righteously at the sins
of the past of others.

Yet, what of
the repercussions
in my life
because You "willingly and willfully
sacrificed upon the altar of
Your idols?"

Perhaps You offered others
of which You are unaware?
That's the key, isn't it;
You were beguiled.
I guess that makes it justifiable,
for You.

I spoke;
my voice was dismissed.
Your spiritual prowess
took precedence.
Shortly thereafter,
my life spiraled.

And You have the
audacity to self proclaim
Your righteous acts,
condemning a man
who graciously shed tears
helping to redeem my own.
Nor am I the only one.

Does Your pureness and
holy assessments
allow no room for error?

Go fuck Yourself.
Then get Your own
god-damned abortion;
spend the next three decades
struggling for breath.

If there's a hell
I'll see You there,
and I shall laugh.

Bring Your oxygen.....

july 20, 2oo8

Blind Pig Forum: ... 67&t=56763

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~june, 2oo8~
(~a dry month~)

~may, 2oo8~


Endeavoring to continue
Pretending silence has no effect
I gently tap upon my heart
The only response, an echo

Indifference finally won
Emptied the chambers
Loneliness stole the decor
Bare walls absorbed the tears

[indent]Hollow acoustics of non-existence[/indent]

[indent]Passers-by exchange fair greetings[/indent]

may 23, 2oo8

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Falling through time
I tumble and float
With rhythm and rhyme
In a pink overcoat

The wind is a bluster
I drift through clouds
Of coconut custard
While thinking out loud

Alice met Hatter
After she fell
But what did it matter
By the end of the tale

What is the purpose
Of my little trip
No fuss, no muss
Light sail, loose grip

Ice crystals bright
Sparkle and glow
Prism-bent light
Creates a rainbow

Sliding down red
I slip into green
Making my bed
On rivers unseen

With lollipop dreams
And the moon on a stick
All this it seems
Is a fanciful trick

Now morning is met
I greet this fair day
And I shan't forget
Skyleidoscope Way

may 24, 2oo8 ... 15&t=56378

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~april, 2oo8~

Be Gentle with the Tide

At ease among the young ones
Their eyes display no pretense
Therein I find a rest
In their honesty of heart

Why do grown-ups find it hard
To say the words I'm sorry
Why is it viewed as weak
Why does it offend

Words have finite limits
Mere reflections of the deep
Ocean's depth is fathomless
The origin of our soul

Please be gentle
I promise you the same
If ever my tide is rough
I pray you, let me know

Before you set your sail

april 29, 2oo8

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Pelted with disapproval
Left to nothingness
Oft times it seems pointless
To define experience

Leave me in my silence
It deafens the pain
Numbs it, until
The effect wears off

Then erupts the primal scream
To be acknowledged
To be heard
To be noticed

I always thought it normal
It is for me........

april 29, 2oo8

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Random Thoughts One April Day:
In the Grander Scheme

I know I'm small;
you need not prove it

I'm well aware
of my blemishes
and companion, shame.

Yes, I can be silenced.
Self-proclaimed absolutes,
authority personified
triggers my retreat.

I desire a day
when all can be open,
bare nakedness of heart
honoring each individual.

Yes, I see the evil;
I'm not naive.
I require no verbal
reminders of the gaping need;
I am but one, with finite limits.

Is there time to look upward?

Hearken my prayer
if a Listener's there.
Ease my heart;
awaken it, as a flower
to the sun.
Open it to behold the good.

april, 2oo8

Back to Index :arrow:

~march, 2oo8~

Zephyr's Croon

As I stroll
Breezes blow
Whispering echoes
From long ago

A simpler life
Or so we're told
Eat, sleep, harvest
Times of old

Overload's toll
In this modern age
So much to do
Progress's gauge

Fulfillment's gap
Wider grows
With each new toy
To ease our woes

Breath doth sigh
One cannot miss
What has not been
Nor yet exists

Lucky the warbler
From twigs and grass
She twines her nest
As in ages past

Slow our pace
Heed her voice
Purl, weave, rest
A simpler choice

march 16, 2008

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march 20, 2008

Blind Pig Forum: ... 67&t=55658

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~february, 2oo8~


Heart of the lion
represents courage.
Who can defy his

Yet a small bullet aimed
just right, arrests the pulse
stops the

Instantaneous or slow
life is drained,
no more

Stuffed trophy head
high on the wall,
marksman treads upon the

Heart of the child
represents hope.
Yet one fatal aim,

february o3, 2oo8

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Rhymes and Feet

I cannot write this lyric true
It's hard for me to think
Within these confines, here I stew
I think this poem will stink

These rules by which it should abide
Stifle my flow of thought
Perhaps I lack a poet's stride
Bound by the should and ought

Next time I'll pick a challenge that
Is easier to write
Leave Dr. Seuss and tit for tat
To rhyming lines not trite

So if your eyes read this and scoff
Pay them no mind nor heed
I'll thus give you a wine carafe
You'll then like what you read

february 10, 2oo8 ... 15&t=54971

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Knock, Knock

I guess it's time
to lay my pen
down upon the table

I try to write
nothing is there
for I am not able

To rouse her up
to make her write
muse, nor truth, nor fable

february 10, 2oo8

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february 10, 2oo8

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Ledger's Balance

Time rushes through my life
like a river's untamed rapids.
I embrace a rock for anchor
but alas, I'm swept away.

Time trickles through my fingers
like water through a sieve.
I clinch and try to grasp it
with no effect upon the flow.

Time sits patiently waiting
like a father for an absent son.
I behold their yearned reunion,
and for a moment, glimpse eternity.

May our days spent by seconds
tip the ledger's balance
toward time that sits,
momentary glimpses of eternity.

february 12, 2oo8

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Cross-legged, at my keyboard
Fingers clicking to and fro
Mind adrift, trying to tame
The seizure in my thoughts

Sporadic timing, in and out,
This spasm in my head
A grip that binds and then lets go
Tight squeeze upon my brain

It comes and goes, this visitor
Each time asking for residence
A shake my head and answer, "No!"
But it will not oblige

Angered I shout, "Leave me alone!"
It laughs its heinous cry
"O.K." I say, "stay awhile"
I hang my head and sigh

"The kitchen will be my abode!"
It bellows its reply
I respond as to an unruly child
"No, that space is occupied"

"In the garage is where you sleep
I will not compromise
You may visit the kitchen once in awhile
But you shan't prepare the entree"

It smirks and huffs and stomps away
Mumbling fowl words
But it shit a dump before it left
I sigh and huff, clean up the mess

Will I ever tame this visitor of mine?
It strides right in and barfs its bile
Someday maybe, soon I hope,
It will get bored with me

february 12, 2oo8

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I've heard the line ten thousand times
Of musts and shoulds and oughts
To give my all, one hundred percent
In noble pursuit of excellence

My personal best on Monday
May be quite different than Friday
I live my days with flaws and glories
Each brings unchartered journeys

The day that matters most
Is the one abiding with me
This moment of time is all I have
There are no guarantees

I do my best on this given day
Yet, it may not appear as so
Shoulds and oughts have their place
As long as my dreams can grow

february 15, 2oo8

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Cabooses, Cups, and Cobblestone

My hope has waned of late
Like a distant tunnel shrinking
As I peer from the caboose

I see cups half empty
Where once they were half full
The stack of broken toys grows higher

What I knew as truth
The bedrock of my life, cracked
My foundation, now uneven cobblestone

The solidarity to which I clung
That which my all embraced
Mortar that held the structure's face, crumbled

Perhaps herein lies my strength
In tiny grains and handpicked stones
Building blocks for the master craftsman

february 19, 2oo8 ... 11&t=55098

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~january, 2oo8~

Fifth Floor

Soul searching walks
I observe, then sway
Peeking deep within
This matter they call gray

I have typed
And found the end
Neurons frayed, crazed axons
Tiny cellular madmen

january 3, 2008
(december challenge) ... 33#p402233

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Give Me Walden

(Translated: Leave me the fuck alone! :mrgreen:)

Paper piled high
Stuff, stuff, stuff
Lies about like trophies
It's not even my stuff

Dust-laden furniture
Brush my feet each night
Residue from hardwood floors
Porcelain stains await the brush

I'd like to burn it all!
Blow it up! Beam it up Scottie!
Just give me a fucking teepee
With no god-damned digital anything

The stupid to-do list
The nicely laid schedule
Displayed brilliantly in ink
But I suck at making it work!!

Damn broken record
Rehearsing it again
I'd like to hearse it all
To the god-damned graveyard

When will I ever fucking learn!!!!!!!

january 5, 2oo8

Blind Pig Forum: ... 67&t=54481

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It seems I trudge in circles
Through a forest dense
Occasional glimpses of a clearing
Disappear in survival
Which takes me down another
Path of desperation

Does it ever end?
Is there no ceasing to the toil?
Can one find respite other than through death?

I envy those who find fulfillment
In mundane routines
Desperation's death
Its angst dissolved by gratitude
Diffused in the simplest of tasks

january 8, 2oo8 ... 24&t=54514

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I feel disconnected
from my heart.
It's not the first time
nor the last, I'm sure.
People appear so confident
while I tremble in my shoes
where no one can see my toes.
But I'll keep walking
with a steady pretense
so as not to trip and let them know.

january 14, 2008

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songs of the sea
whistle on the breeze
rush of the tide
laps the shore in rhythmic beat
cool foam dissipates
tide pulls back again

stories the ocean echoes
through ages o'er and o'er
wherein life commenced
mystery of the eons
abiding deep within
the belly of the sea

january 15, 2oo8

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To become
Rites of passage
Indigenous ceremonial advents
Birthed through time and culture
Emergence from virginity

january 12, 2oo8

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let me sit....
[indent]and think[/indent]
let me feel....
[indent]the sun[/indent]
let me watch...
[indent]the sunset[/indent]
let me touch....
[indent]the wind[/indent]
let me ....

january 12, 2oo8

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between my knees
i hold you
palms open
i stroke your skin

circular gestures

i tap

you respond
vibrational whisper

your reply
coaxes me
for more

i relax
more confident
tap again

around me
others echo
bass, tone, slap

eyes close
body sways
breath flows

hands beat
wrists pulse
feet tap

tempo quickens
euphonic tapestry
dulcet harmony

rhythms of the earth
colors of the rainbow
celestial crescendo

aural prisms beckon
voice of our origin
ancestral choir
together one

language of djembe

january 20, 2oo8

The Djembe

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Sixth Dimension

To stay connected
My quill must dance
Upon the weathered parchment
Fingers embrace the pen

What is this magic
What is this pull
Into dimensions felt, not seen

To time eternal
Memories that tarry

Some past, some future
Mortal, immortal
Concrete, ambiguous

Embrace me
Never let me go
Curves, lines, circles
Magic strokes upon the page

january 20, 2oo8

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Emotional Rape

"Did I hurt you?"
You innocently inquire

You fucking moron
You self-centered son of a bitch
Your arrogance inflates your ego
Your ego inflates your dick

You opened your soul
I opened mine
Then, you turned

Gazing at your back
I awaited
With tender expectation

Unbeknownsted to me
You prepared
Your mockery

About faced
Madness in your eyes
Delight in manipulation

I stood
Confused, perplexed
Mixed signals

You stood erect
Jerking off
With heinous laughter

Jism spewed, milky clear
My personal exhibitionist
I watched in disgust

Your words cut deep
"I'm here for you, sucker"
"Lick it up, you trusting soul"

Did you hurt me?
I won't grant you that power
I hurt because I chose to trust
A pompous ass like you

May all your days
Be bathed by masturbation

January 26, 2008

Blind Pig Forum: ... 67&t=54765

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A child cowers in the corner
Her spirit broken
Silenced by the noise
Of self-righteous disapproval
Unsolicited consultation

Words of pseudo-wisdom
To mold toward holy thought
Corrals the wild at heart
A fence unlocked only
By the self-appointed sage

january 27,2008

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What is this unquenchable thirst
this lust for information,
gluttonous intellectual desire
to satisfy my neoteric mind?

Why can I not find fulfillment
in simple tasks of wood and water?
Aye; hath too much learning
made me mad?

january 30, 2008

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Last edited by nekot on Tue Jun 15, 2010 4:23 pm, edited 318 times in total.
~eloquently scattered~
nekot's tokens


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Seafoam Poet
Posts: 267
Joined: Sat Mar 17, 2007 12:56 pm
Location: Arizona

Post by Graeme » Tue May 01, 2007 6:46 am

Nekot, I read your journey, and it was truly inspiring.
This above all to thine own self be true.


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Poetry Piper
Posts: 1568
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Location: North Carolina, USA

Post by nekot » Tue May 01, 2007 6:47 am

Snippets and Bits

Beyond Survival: A Woman's Guide to Hope

In the summer of 2005, one of my counselors asked if I would write my health story to be included in a book, Beyond Survival: A Woman's Guide to Hope. She asked a few of her clients this same request. She had specific topics she wanted covered...and thus the content of the following story, a rendition of what I submitted for the book.

The purpose of writing this is to encourage hope. I hope for someone that it fulfills its purpose. :bow:

A snippet of my journey to wellness, which is always in process:
At 46 years old I sat across from my counselor. She looked in my eyes and stated, "Carol, I want you to start thinking like a well person."

The statement stunned me. I felt nebulously lost within it having no concept of what her words meant. Over the next few days I rolled the statement over and over in my head and heart. The ensuing story is the journey discovering what it means to think like a well person.

I developed asthma at age 22 and was diagnosed with bipolar II disorder at age 41. I experienced an overdose of sorts, a 4-day nightmare with datura stramonium, at the age of 15 and an abortion at the age of 19. [I was possibly challenged with a bipolar disorder since my teens years, having a history of sexual activity at a young age, mood swings, and intense drug involvement. In 2006 the bipolar II diagnosis was questioned and again questioned in 2008 with evidence that perhaps the diagnosis is PTSD or C-PTSD. Regardless of the label, some of the same approaches help both diagnoses.]

I choose the 39th year of my life as the threshold for the following meandering, a snippet of my journey. It was in that year that I began to submerge myself in ink and page, writing my way toward wellness. Journaling changed my course from death to life, from despair to hope.

At 39 years old I was married with 2 children, ages 8 & 10. For the last 17 years I had suffered with severe asthma; numerous bouts of pneumonia; multiple sinus surgeries; environmental, chemical, food, and inhalant allergies; hives, welts, and various skin disorders; systemic candida; depression; mood swings; chronic fatigue; body aches; and a myriad of other symptoms that go with an over-responsive/depleted immune system. I had been pumped with intravenous drugs, swallowed or inhaled a host of pharmaceuticals (including 1000's of doses of steroids), been pricked with needles 100's (if not 1000's) of times for various reasons, and received a myriad of allergy antigens. Alongside with conventional treatments, I had utilized alternative therapies including homeopathy, oral & intravenous vitamin/mineral supplementation, strict dietary protocols, acupuncture, herbs, bodywork, and some psychological counseling.

Exhaustion and depression were constant companions. I was caught in a sticky, mucous-coated, stagnant, thickened, stringy web that felt like it grew in every tissue and cell beneath my skin. I felt trapped in my own body. I craved to breathe freely. I thirsted for fluid energy and to move without pain. I dreamed of running like a deer, graceful & free through the woods. I hungered for freedom.

I often felt like a complete failure as a mother and a person. Shame coursed through my veins. My suicide plan was foolproof, but I couldn't leave my children with the legacy that their mother had committed suicide. My children were my saving grace, my reason to keep drawing breath, to keep trying.

Life was not always dreary. Alternative treatments had become my mainstay for recovery, and I had stretches of improvement and hope. But the improvement came in incremental bits. Yet now my hope was depleted; it was time to quit hoping. I had clung to the belief that God's will for me was complete health. It was time to give up the dream that I could actually get well; death seemed the only alternative for release.

At that point I took my pen to paper and began to write. Emotions crystallized into words upon the page detailing the self loathing, the asthma attacks, the pain that racked my body, the exhaustion, the anger, the murky darkness of it all. I felt such deep, deep shame and self-hatred. Day after day I filled the pages; I held nothing back. I poured it all onto paper, including dreams and hopes. I wrote because I had to; I did not know what else to do. I never imagined that by putting pen to parchment my circumstances would begin to change, but they did in a most powerful way.

Within a few months of starting to journal I was hospitalized yet again (October, 1998) and connected with a doctor that discovered I was suffering with mercury toxicity, a typical cause for immune dysfunction. In January, 1999, I was again hospitalized and connected with a different doctor who confirmed the mercury toxicity. That same month I began an intense 2-year detox regimen which included oral chelation therapy, intravenous and oral vitamin and mineral therapy, hydrocolon therapy, low heat saunas, and coffee enemas. I continued to journal profusely and began again to re-educate myself on healing. I began to have hope. My doctors believed I could gain wellness. Unknown to me at that time, I suffered my last severe episode of asthma attacks.

After 6 months from this last asthma attack, I was able to start addressing more definitively other symptoms: fatigue, mood swings, hives that crawled on and under my skin. Aches and pains surfaced all over my body continually pushing symptoms to the surface, desperately crying to be released. Yet I was hopeful; the asthma was curbed. I had new treatments to try. Maybe my body could get well, if I could learn better how to listen to what it was trying to communicate to me, maybe I could allow it to heal itself. Maybe, just maybe....

The next regimen on my agenda was a treatment known as Enzyme Potentiated Desensitization (EPD), a complex treatment that approached the reprogramming of miscoded T helper cells. For 1-1/2 years, every 8 weeks, I would go into quarantine; receive a shot to penetrate the miscoded cells; and eat only venison, tapioca flour with water, and sweet potatoes. My health improved with EPD: a "sore spot" in my left lung that had been present since my last bout with pneumonia cleared; some skin conditions improved; my sense of smell was restored; allergic reactions and energy improved. Again I was hopeful. Then the FDA abruptly stopped the use of EPD in the United States. My sense of smell was stolen again and some allergy troubles resurfaced. But I remained hopeful that other doors would open for me.

I pulled out previous books I had read on healing and reviewed them. I was led to new books about healing and devoured them. During this time I was diagnosed with a herniated disc, confirmed with an MRI. A friend loaned me the book, Healing Back Pain by Dr. John Sarno. Within 6 weeks of applying what I had read, the back spasms were 80% better; after 5 months they were completely gone. This book prompted me to delve more deeply into the relationship between emotions and physical illness, the effect of the dance between the two.

In late 2000, I began weekly psychological counseling. How many of my illnesses/symptoms could be due to suppressed emotions? Was I honest enough to be able to open up and see what really lurked in my soul? This excavation was a gruesome task at times, but in the end was more than worth each labor pain.

Over the next 4 years I developed a support network/program which consisted of journaling, bibliotherapy, and relationships with a handful of people and professionals that I could call upon. This support network was vital for me. I grew in my ability to open up, to peek within and see the ugliness and the beauty. Of course I saw more ugliness than beauty. But I began to understand that even the ugliness was okay; I didn't have to fear it. My hope grew. My life was changing.

During these 4 years my symptoms became less intense and then plateaued. I lived managing mood swings; hives and sneezing attacks a few times a week; and a hormone dysfunction that would manifest in severe aches, depression, and cognitive impairment at least 5 days per month. To manage these symptoms I sought answers through conventional means (including medications for the depression), bodywork, nutrition, homeopathy, and energy medicine. I took about 50 pills a day in the form of supplements and continued with counseling and journaling. I began to think that this was as well as I could get.

In 2004 I was introduced to a nutritional product that had more life-changing effects on me. Within 9 months of consuming this product my hives completely disappeared. The mood swings and debilitating hormone dysfunction were probably 85% better. I was able to get off my daily psychiatric medications and the daily supplements. My energy was more stable. I went from being hit by an 18-wheeler at least 5 days a month, to being bumped by a unicycle a few days per month. I was beginning to taste freedom.

It was during this time when I began to taste freedom, that my counselor stated those unforgettable words , "Carol I want you to start thinking like a well person." My adult life had revolved around sickness; a science of charts and foods and medications and treatments. This new experience of wellness was scary. Oddly I found myself wanting to break down, but couldn't. I thought I would run free once liberated from the tyranny of entrapment. Yet, I was in new territory, unfamiliar, uncomfortable. What was I to do with myself now? It took me 6 to 8 months to become comfortable with being "well."

By the end of 2005 I was well enough to make some major religious/spiritual changes in my life. After 28 years of involvement, I chose to leave what had became for me an abusive religious organization. In hindsight, certain teachings and practices of this group contributed to and intensified the emotional entrapment with which I had been enslaved. Without the wellness I had been granted, I do not believe I could have made the break from that organization; it took much resolve and emotional energy that I didn't have prior to 2004.

Since divorcing that organization, personal relationships that were shunned from decades past have been renewed; crevices I had sealed are being exhumed; step by step hidden bubbles are surfacing and closet doors opening. Certain of these exposures have allowed my heart a resuscitation of sorts. I am coming face to face with neglect and abandonment issues, grief, and loss. I see with greater clarity underlying emotional causes that contribute(ed) to the illnesses. My relationship with my husband has been restored. Music and poetry are integral parts of my life and wholeness. I have been able to tap into my heart again.

What are my maintenance practices? Decent nutrition, exercise, play, prayer, reading, and laughter. When I experience physiological symptoms or tumultuous emotions I simply need to be aware, to listen, and to follow the path that soothes. At the top of my wellness list are journaling, writing poetry, and relationships - with myself, my environment, and people. Relationships. Relationships. Relationships. They are the fabric of life instilling hope and encouragement, even when times look dim and dark and when it seems the sun will not rise again.

What does it mean to think like a well person? It means I recognize that I am significant, worthy of love, fully human, and a vital member of the family of mankind; I am not an appliance that requires fixing. Rather, like all in this human family, I am a yearning individual with an innate need for love, acknowledgment, and to know my value.

note: The book Healing Back Pain (mentioned above) prompted me to dig deeper for a specific program to help guide me in uncovering emotional causes for physical symptoms. That search led me to this link: The originator, Dr. David Schechter, has a specifically designed journaling, reading, and education program that enabled me to better tap into emotional causes that had prompted certain physical symptoms, thus providing healing and relief in those areas.

Back to Index :arrow:


Of Psychological, Religious, and Cultic Abuse
(March, 2008)

It's no secret that I was involved for over 25 years with an organization that is typically considered a 'cult,' though I prefer the term 'abusive religious organization.'

I left that organization almost 2-1/2 years ago. I found the Pages a little over 1 year ago. Poetry Pages has been one of my best resources of 'therapy.' :bow:

There is lots of information/misinformation regarding 'cults.' I have found the links (which I update occasionally) posted at the end of my story helpful. Plus there are lots of links on the web.

Though my following story is long I hope it gives a glimpse of (1) some of the reasons folks join 'cults' or similar groups and (2) some consequences that authoritarian/elitist groups can have. The journey is always in process of course... :grin:

It is not my intention to attack The Way International or other religions/beliefs. With that said I post the following.


(The original version of the following was written in 2007 in response for an introduction request at an online forum regarding members' spiritual journeys thus far. In February/March, 2008, I felt a need for my own clarification and healing (hopefully) to expand it and fill in some detail; thus it has grown rather LONG. :mrgreen: I think one reason I decided to post this publicly is to help give some sort of meaning to it all, and perhaps someone might be helped along the way. :thumbsup: )

I continue to update the narrative. The most recent updated ... g-way.html.

Seeking: Life Along the Way

I wasn't raised with a specific church doctrine, but my family attended a Methodist Church and a Methodist camp meeting with some regularity in my younger years. From about age 8 years old and into my teen years I was fascinated with the supernatural reading books on UFOs, playing with Ouija boards, intrigued by witchcraft, and dabbling with astrology. I attended some sort of Baptist revival with a friend when I was maybe 10; I remember going up for the altar call. I recall seeing the movie about Nicky Cruise sometime in my preteen or teen years. Around 12 years old, I attended a Methodist confirmation but to my recollection never completed the requirements.

Around 13 years old, I read the four gospels and concluded that Jesus Christ was the biggest egomaniac that ever walked. However, I did like the poetic flow of the gospel of John. In the Old Testament I read about a vengeful God who annihilated people. Of the folks I talked with about the Bible, no one could explain to me apparent contradictions. I could argue most Bible believers into a corner, and for some reason I enjoyed it. Understandably I rejected the Bible as an ultimate authority but thought it contained some truth alongside other religions.

Also at 13 years of age I fell in love for the first time and gave my whole self, body and soul. I craved attention and touch, to be wanted, and to please. I was involved with 4 such all-encompassing relationships between the ages of 13 and 18. In the second of these relationships, I was a recipient of physical abuse. I ended that relationship after about one year which coincided with the final hitting session; that time I fought back. At the time, I did not reveal the physical abuse to anyone; I was embarrassed and didn't want people to think badly of him or me. He was a jock 4 years older than I; I was a cheerleader. I decided then to switch peer groups and became friends with the "freaks."

At 15 years of age I got heavily into marijuana and, shortly thereafter, psychedelic drugs. I began dating and became romantically involved with one of the main high school drug dealers; we were never in short supply of mind-altering substances. Being intrigued with the supernatural, I felt the trips on psychedelics connected me with the spiritual realm. During this experimental phase I overdosed on datura stramonium, a four-day sleepless nightmare filled with hellish hallucinations while strapped to a bed in ICU; my boyfriend was restrained with a straight jacket. (link: Datura Stramonium) Yet, even after the stramonium, I continued experimentation with various kinds of hallucinogens seeking spiritual oneness through LSD, windowpane, blotter acid, mescaline, MDA, and a few other drugs. As the months passed, I became more and more paranoid and withdrawn. The trips began to turn bad and the feeling of tripping lingered even without having dropped any acid. Needless to say I had many thoughts of insanity. My saving thought was, If I was insane I wouldn't know it. I quit drugs about 9 months after the stramonium incident.

At that point, in desperation for my sanity, I turned to Transcendental Meditation and got 100% involved volunteering at the TM Center, assisting with classes and initiations, and planning to attend the Maharishi University in Iowa. Within 8 months of starting TM I broke the relationship with my dealer boyfriend. He got busted within a couple months after our breakup.

After a little over 1 year into TM, I met (my next) boyfriend (5 years older than I) and moved in with him the summer before my senior year of high school. He was faithfully involved with a small Baptist Church; yet he smoked dope on an almost daily basis and we cohabitated "living in sin" for 10+ months. Because I wanted to please him I dropped my involvement with TM and decided I'd try to believe the Baptist doctrine which was difficult for me, especially the hellfire teachings. Almost every Sunday I found myself at the altar in tears of shame wondering if I was "saved." We had wedding plans for a few weeks after I graduated from high school, but I broke the engagement. I couldn't come to terms with belief in a God of damnation. I was also struggling with mood swings, depression, and feelings of low self-worth.

[Some may wonder about parental guidance through these years. I didn't have many boundaries while growing up, and apparently issues regarding abandonment/neglect became ingrained in my psyche. Mom spent extended time as an in-patient in the 1960's (and in later life) for manic depression. Dad was challenged with anger issues, possibly as a result from a brain injury due to a serious car wreck prior to starting the family. (I am the youngest of three children.) From my mid-elementary years and up I was a latch-key kid. Looking back, I of course see that those circumstances influenced choices that I made; emotional responses I felt/buried; and my seeking elsewhere to fill certain unmet physical, emotional, and familial needs. Yet there were also great times spent freely exploring nature and life. Like most of humanity, my parents were good people that went through some hard times handling life as best they could.]

Shortly after the split from my fiance I moved onto a farm with some hippie types who had moved to the North Carolina mountains from New York. I felt driven to find "the truth," to discover God, to find my way "back to the garden." I dabbled with TM (again), Ram Dass, yoga, and the Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ. I visited a cousin with the intent purpose to go to a WICCA meeting. He ended up having to work so I ended up spending the day with my aunt with whom I attended a Charismatic fellowship. At that meeting I heard speaking in tongues for the first time. That day I was led into tongues and began to see another side to the scriptures. Upon return to the farm I told all my yoga hippie friends that they didn't have to do all that meditation to be one with God; just believe on Jesus Christ and speak in tongues. I became engrossed in the scriptures, trying to understand and craving to comprehend the "breadth and length and depth and height," "to know the love of Christ," and to be "filled with all the fullness of God."

I began reading and rereading Acts and the Pauline epistles, mainly Ephesians through Colossians. I drove over an hour one way to attend church services where I had been led into tongues. The message at this church was different from what I'd been exposed to at the Baptist Church. The theme was love, grace, mercy, and understanding; not to mention they had good music! I was full of questions and wanted to understand the Bible, to be able to reconcile at least a majority of the contradictions. I decided to attend college focusing on biblical studies and counseling. I also had an interest in service work with either VISTA or The Peace Corps.

I chose a college that had "spirit-filled" connections, Montreat Anderson near Black Mtn., NC, in the heart of Billy Graham country. During my few months at Montreat, I attended Montreat's Presbyterian Church services along with various flavors of Charismatic meetings in the local vicinity. However, the same insecurity and shame that I experienced in the Baptist Church again haunted me. I couldn't seem to find satisfactory answers to my questions nor a remedy for my shame.

I became friends with some students on campus who were considered to be spiritually mature. We met regularly for prayer meetings. Talk went on qualifying who was spiritual enough to be allowed at these assemblies. Looking back, these meetings mainly served to achieve an emotional high with some participants being slain in the spirit and speaking in tongues in an uncontrollable manner. During one of these sessions I had to leave because I felt like I was tripping; I felt paranoid and dirty. I don't think I went to any more prayer sessions after that one.

On one occasion Ruth Graham visited the campus. I attended a small gathering with about 20 young ladies and Mrs. Graham. We met in an informal living room setting, attired with a few upholstered chairs for seating and the rest of us on the floor. It was very comfortable. I asked Mrs. Graham questions regarding speaking in tongues and the holy spirit field. Her answer was that she simply didn't know the answers. I thought to myself, If Ruth Graham doesn't know, who does? Around this time is when I found The Way.

Friends from the prayer group at college warned me that The Way was a cult. I considered their words and read about The Way in some cult books. It appeared to me that those who claimed The Way was a cult, based that conclusion mainly on the fact that The Way did not believe in the traditional doctrine of the trinity. Until shortly after starting college I never realized that Christians believed that Jesus was God. At that time I was stunned that anyone would think such a thing, that a man could be God. Therefore the main thrust of The Way being a cult because it was non-trinitarian didn't concern me, much.

Fellowship meetings with The Way were tender and welcoming and didn't involve the frenzied spirit-filled confusion I was experiencing at some of the Charismatic gatherings. At Way fellowships I witnessed what I had read in sections of Acts and the Pauline epistles: all things common, decent and in order, fruit of the spirit, greeting with a holy kiss, etc. I enrolled and took The Way's Foundational/Intermediate class. For once I was getting answers to many of the questions that plagued me. I learned that I was righteous before God and that I had "sonship rights." I began to "retemorize" King James scriptures, repeating them over and over in my mind convincing my self of "the truth." I was finally learning God's will for my life. (link: The Way International)

In my college Old Testament History class I wrote an answer in response to an essay question on a test asking to compare Old Testament faith with New Testament faith. My essay was based on research from The Way. I received an A+ on that essay with a note from my professor, "Excellent research. I have questions about some of your findings." Having been warned The Way was a cult, I felt uncomfortable approaching the professor on the matter.

The same friends who warned me about The Way subjected me to a type of interrogation with an emphasis on the trinity. I was seated in a classroom. About five of them were standing with one at the chalkboard writing. Their examination included questions, authoritarian proclamations, and accusations regarding The Way and its "devilish doctrines." I recall a couple of them raising their voices at me, I think in an attempt to wake me from what they considered my delusion and to save me from the "cult." I felt attacked, cross-examined, and fearful.

Not long after that incident my college roommate exhibited mental illness and was found in the parking lot trying to pick up sparkling diamonds out of the pavement. She had also recently begun using the window instead of the door to exit and enter our college dorm room. The same friends who led the prayer group and who had interrogated me, blamed me for tainting my roommate and causing her to get "possessed with demons," all because I was attending a Way class and fellowships. I was the only student at Montreat involved with The Way.

These were the people warning me that The Way was a cult? I guess it takes one to know one. :wink: Jesting aside, I want to believe these friends' intentions were good. But their approach, for obvious reasons, sent me running in the other direction. I finished my first semester at Montreat and then dropped college to study and serve with The Way.

As my manner was, I got 100% involved with The Way. In January, 1978, at the age of 18, shortly after dropping out of college, I moved in with Way believers and got a job in the laundry department of a local hospital. In February, 1978, I met the president and founder of The Way whose charisma and fatherly demeanor left an indelible impression on my young heart and my desire to serve. He signed me up for the next wave of Word Over the World (WOW) Ambassadors to be commissioned in August, 1978. [WOW was The Way outreach program and involved a one-year commitment, the volunteer serving wherever assigned by The Way.]

Prior to that August commission I jumped on board and served with Summer Outreach from late May until the end of July. Somewhere between January, 1978, and July, 1978, I made the commitment to enter the Way's leadership training program, The Way Corps. Members of the Corps volunteered for a "lifetime commitment to Christian service" with The Way International. My August WOW commission began my apprentice year for the Way Corps; I served as a WOW Ambassador family coordinator.

All outreach programs with The Way were on a volunteer basis with participants supporting themselves financially while doing the work of the ministry; there was no monetary compensation from The Way. Volunteers were expected to continue to tithe from income received through their part-time secular jobs during their full-time service with The Way.

The Way Corps training program was not an outreach program, per se, though outreach and teaching were the final goals as part of the lifetime commitment to service. The training program consisted of one apprenticeship year, two years in-residence at Way "root locales," and one interim or practicum year. The in-residence years were work/study programs and were financed via funds solicited by the Way Corps trainee. Those who funded the trainee were called "spiritual partners" and agreed to a monthly or other non-tax deductible financial donation. The Way Corps trainee was to pray for and write to each spiritual partner each month during that in-residence year. A Way Corps trainee could be assigned to an outreach program during the apprentice and interim years or after graduation. The in-residence years included a two-week outreach exercise called Lightbearers and included hitchhiking requirements where trainees were to believe God to arrive at assigned destinations within given time periods and "witness" to those who gave them rides.

Through my Corps years I spent time at three of The Way's root locales in Kansas, Indiana, and Ohio. Though I spent over 4 years in Way Corps training I never graduated. I left the program, not once but twice, midstream in the training. Yet, to break one's Way Corps commitment was akin to a Judas betrayal. The ensuing shame from those betrayals clouded my (already skewed) self-image. I shined during my in-residence years and for the most part enjoyed them. The proving years (interim/practicum) were my death of confidence. The following paragraphs offer a glimpse of that storm.

The first time I abandoned my Way Corps commitment was during the third year of training, called the interim year. I was serving for a 2nd time as a WOW Ambassador, as a team coordinator. One fall day my mind was reeling, as it had done other times: How could I ever fulfill the Way Corps calling? I wasn't good enough; I didn't have the believing. I was a sorry excuse for Way Corps. I couldn't live up to the standards. My WOW team would do better without me. Maybe I shouldn't even be with The Way. Is this really what I wanted to be doing? I was too small spiritually. I short circuited. With my mind racing and fearful (of what I am not sure), I hitchhiked alone from Connecticut to North Carolina.

In the aftermath I was overcome with shame. I had let down my WOW team. I had let down the Way Corps. I had let down my spiritual partners. I had let down God. I had let down myself. Filled with remorse and confusion, I wrote letters of apology. In response I received a kind and encouraging letter from the president/founder of The Way. I communicated back and forth in writing over the following months with the Way Corps Director, who later became the second president. Within those months I felt it was my calling and responsibility to fulfill my Way Corps training and commitment.

Probably because I dropped my assignment in an AWOL fashion, I was denied the option of picking up where I had left off in Corps training and was required to start the program over. I had to wait about 9 months to begin the process anew. During that time I plummeted into self-destructive behavior with alcohol and secret promiscuity. Though I had been sexually active from an early age, I had never before engaged in promiscuity.

I have no doubt that this self-numbing behavior was a response to my deep shame and self-loathing which I continued to bury; part of which was a result from my broken Corps and WOW commitments, from an abortion I received during my first WOW year (a consequence resulting because of an indiscriminate assignment decision by top Way leadership), from the recent broken relationship with the father who was still in Way Corps training, and from endeavoring to live up to unrelenting standards of which I continually fell short. Yet throughout those months of illicit activities I lived with Way believers and helped run fellowships and classes, possibly as an endeavor to prove my worth to myself.

Following that 9 months I moved in with Way believers in another state and embarked upon my second attempt at The Way Corps. I gave up alcohol (for the most part) and put an end to the undisclosed promiscuity. But every fiber in my being was screaming in rebellion against starting the Corps process over. I interpreted this internal turmoil as temptation to not perform my duty of carrying out my calling before God. I expressed this in counsel with Way leadership who confirmed that it was my duty to "pay my vows" of my Corps pledge regardless of my internal misgivings. At that time I believed the scriptures taught to disobey leadership was to disobey God.

Within one month of determining that it was my obligation to fulfill that calling and standing against the temptation of my inner cry to not move forward with the commitment, I became physically ill. At age 22, for the first time in my life, I suffered with asthma and symptoms of an over-responsive immune system gone haywire. I had buried, and continued to bury, what I deemed as inappropriate emotions. Yet carry on I did with the same failing result as my first attempt with the Way Corps. (My adult years have been challenged with chronic illness; partly due to suppressed emotion.)

This time my broken commitment, again in AWOL fashion and during my third (interim) year while on staff at the Ohio Way Headquarters (HQ), was due to the same reasons as the first time with the added weight of the acquired chronic illnesses which had progressively worsened since their inception two years prior. On a fall day, my mind again reeling, I fell into the same short circuit. Surely this wasn't real; it was just a bad dream. It wasn't a bad dream; I had again failed my calling and my word.

In addition to my confusion and anxiety regarding my sold-out commitment, three months prior to my departure this second time, my father was in a head-on automobile collision leaving him to live his remaining thirteen years as a quadriplegic. Though his accident was not the reason I dropped (again) from The Way Corps, it was the reason I moved back home - to help care for him. It was now 1983; I was 24 years old. I was overcome with shame. I was physically and emotionally ill and drained. My integrity was compromised. At my core, I felt defective.

One of the Corps Coordinators (not the Director) announced to The Way Corps at HQ that I was not worth the cost of a dime for a phone call. However the local leadership in my hometown welcomed me with open arms. Shortly after arriving home, I wrote a letter of apology to the Corps Director who was also the new (second) president of The Way. He responded with encouragement and kindness (more about the second president follows). In spite of (or in part because of) my failures, I continued fellowshipping with The Way and serving locally where I could.

Why would I turn my back on my Corps commitment, not once but twice, when in my heart it was an epitome of betrayal? It has taken decades for me to unravel the causes, and still I am not sure of it all. Part of the reasons were due to emotional insecurity, low self image, lack of confidence, unrelenting standards, and fear of failure or perhaps success. Externally for the most part I appeared capable and confident; internally I simply felt an incredible urge to flee. I sought escape from an internal dissonance brought on by trying to run in shoes not designed to carry me, but that I believed were my duty to make fit. I think one reason I chose an AWOL approach was that if I counseled with someone and then disobeyed, in my confused perception, that was a more direct act of disobedience than if I just disappeared. Plus I felt any counsel would try to talk me into staying.

Thus my Corps years were over. Yet I paid consequences for decades, battling feelings of deep shame and reproach for breaking my commitment and never fulfilling my Way Corps calling.

To write an overview about the years from 1983 through 2005 would take a few more long narratives. Suffice it to say that in 1984, after about one year of moving back home, I married my current husband, John, who was involved with The Way on a local level. John provided a stable anchor for my life for which I am eternally grateful.

Through the following years we stayed busy meeting the challenges of me living with chronic illness, raising our children, and helping care for my dad. We stayed closely involved overseeing fellowships and serving with The Way on a local level; however, seldom did we approach Way leadership for specific personal counsel. For the most part we made our personal decisions and informed leadership if we deemed it appropriate. The Way as an organization became more controlling as the years progressed, step by step endeavoring (and most often succeeding) to meddle deeper and deeper into members' personal lives.

This widespread progressive micromanagement (especially regarding time, commitment/obedience to "the Ministry," personal finances, and shunning those who left) was due mainly to control tactics, abuses, and doctrines gradually instigated by the second president of The Way. He served in that position from 1982 until 2000 and was dismissed from his position after an out-of-court settlement regarding (in part) sexual harassment.

Followers were informed by admission from the second president that he had been involved in a "consensual affair" and thus had agreed to step down from his position as President. Within a year or so of the confession and dismissal, the second president quietly disappeared from The Way, out of sight to the faithful. Questions were not encouraged, which was the standard mode of operation when anyone departed; an uneasy hush with a pretense that nothing had happened and all was o.k.

My husband and I later learned that there were multiple sexual encounters, and the "affair" the president confessed to followers was not consensual. Also, from what I've read and been told by folks who were directly involved with top leadership, other top leaders were aware of/involved with the abuse of authority in regard to sex. (link: Lawsuits Against TWI and Allegations of Sexual Misconduct) Yet, the second president took the full brunt of the fall while some of these other leaders stayed or rose in their leadership positions. From my viewpoint top Way leadership used this opportunity to save their own faces as leaders in the eyes of the followers of The Way. As of 2006, Way followers I had spoken with blamed solely the second president (once highly respected and loved by followers) for The Way's upheaval/downfall. As of 2005, most followers were unaware of the other sexual abuse allegations regarding other top leaders or the founder (who died in 1985). Since 2000 Way leadership appears to have kept itself clean in regard to sexual abuses.

Like other followers, John and I had invested a lot of time, energy, and finances into The Way believing it taught and practiced God's rightly divided Word. We were unaware of the many sexual abuse allegations against The Way until a year or so before I left. We were aware of a few, but not the many. (link: regarding cover up: Why Didn't We Know About Leaders' Sexual Advances?) Until after I left, we were unaware of the number of abortions women in The Way had received. As mentioned previously I experienced an abortion while on the WOW Ambassador program in 1978, suppressing that experience and not dealing with it until 28 years later.

There were four major crossroads when John and I had to make the decision of whether to continue our loyalty to The Way or take up allegiance with a Way splinter group/fellowship. It never occurred to us that we had a third alternative: to walk away from all Way-related structure and/or doctrine. We believed Way doctrine to be the proper interpretation of the scriptures and the Bible to be the "revealed word and will of God." One of the determining factors in our decision to stay with The Way was our deeply held belief that it was the "true household of God;" to desert was to walk away from our heavenly father and his true family. Another factor was local leadership; for most of those years we had kind, approachable local leadership. At each crossroad we had to make a choice of who to trust. There were other factors as well.

In October, 2005, after 28 years of involvement and running fellowships at various levels for over 12 of those years, I exited The Way. But this time was not in AWOL fashion; while trembling I informed leadership via phone about my decision.

Their responses were that perhaps I needed to be going to more functions and that I wasn't giving enough, that I should have counseled with leadership before making my decision, that if I had sincerely prayed and contemplated regarding my decision I would have chosen to stay with The Way, that The Way had experienced some problems through the years not unlike the first-century church, that most followers who leave never return, and that I was welcome to come back at anytime. Their answers simply confirmed and reinforced my decision. Plus, at that point no one could convince me to continue; I no longer believed certain doctrines and my eyes began to open to the exclusivity that The Way propounds. My heart was a vast, empty hole; I felt like a shell of a person. I wanted to know who Carol was; I had lost her somewhere along the way.

Looking back, my cutting ties via an official exit had begun 8 years prior, if not more. It was a difficult decision riddled with internal chaos. In my mind, by choosing to leave I would be playing the Judas role 3 times and breaking a salt covenant (worthy of death according to Old Testament standards) I had taken at a previous Way Advanced Class. Through those last years I continued with The Way mainly for my family, not wanting to split us over being non-likeminded; because of my commitment, motivated partly by shame; and because I believed The Way to be the "household of God." I left The Way for my own integrity and for my family; the vast hole I felt was affecting us. Within 6 to 8 months after my decision, John and our children (at the time ages 15 and 18) cut allegiances from The Way.

Ex-followers'/followers' experiences can differ (sometimes widely) according to their local leadership and the years that person was/is involved. As noted earlier, The Way became progressively and more outwardly abusive over a period of time. The most obvious years for John and I were in the mid to latter 90's. However, around 1999, micromanaging and verbal abuse were relaxed. Within about one year of this loosened grip, the 2nd president was dismissed. Yes, the reigns were loosened; yet, the emotional, verbal, financial, and other abuses were never addressed. It was as if they never occurred. I don't think I'm alone when I say there was an air of hush making these events taboo to discuss. That continues to bother me, especially that I allowed myself to succumb to the muzzle. From 2000 onward The Way became stagnant. I have described my last few years with The Way as "a flat tortilla shell with no substance."

Since exiting I've cycled with a myriad of emotions including periods of bitterness and rage regarding hypocrisy and cover-up, a deep sense of overwhelming loss and grief for various reasons, identity issues, the feeling of being shattered, feelings of shame and self-blame regarding certain personal decisions and my blindness to manipulations. Yet, I'm thankful for my many good times in The Way; and there were many, filled with rich learning experiences, "God moments," regular exposure to some excellent teachings and teachers, and relationships with some wonderful people, one still being with my husband of over two decades.

For the most part I do not begrudge any inappropriate counsel I received; people were only doing as they had been taught. I take responsibility for my decisions; yet I do not want to be naive regarding manipulations/abuses that occurred. I am confused at times in regard to my godly experiences in The Way compared with the abuses and abuse allegations. These present a dichotomy which, at times, is difficult for me to reconcile.

I'm aware that my mixed emotional responses are not atypical. From discussing The Way with ex-members of other religious/authoritarian groups and from reading accounts from various books and articles and comparing these stories with those of The Way, I've learned that The Way was(is) not unique in its approach to group think, control tactics and doctrines, and emotional/religious/other abuses.

Upon departure, I visited a few churches but nothing resonated. I dabbled with some ex-Way splinter groups, one of which was very helpful, but I was(am) hyper-sensitive to any sort of group think. I also got involved with an anti-Way online forum which provided needed support and connections at the time. However, after 1-1/2 years I quit participating with that forum due to its own cultic bent and some unpleasant experiences which were similar to certain abuses in The Way. In the summer of 2008 I sought professional counsel with a therapist who specializes in cult recovery.

I continue to consider various schools of thought regarding different beliefs, including atheism. I am coming to terms with the reality that I think I no longer believe that the scriptures as originally given are infallible; nor are they the inerrant "Word of God." If I decide to continue with certain Christian tenets, these will probably be along the lines with certain tenets of Christian Universalism. But my main focus at this point is to discover me and to find my voice, so to speak.

Of course I don't know where my journey will lead from here, yet I want to have a fervent hope that there is a loving creator and that one day all wrongs will be made right. I am willing to be wrong; yet I know that hope has served me well and enriched my life thus far.

********** ... 55&t=55346

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I Guess I am a Dreamer
Journal Entry

I'm a dreamer. That is what I do. Is it okay that I am a dreamer? Surely it is; some of my dreams will come true; some have come true. Perhaps I'll never accomplish the ideas and ideals I fantasize and imagine. Yet to conceive of them is a start. Probably the word is to perceive, for I may never conceive.

What if I dream my life away? Is that okay? What if all I do is dream and write about dreams? What if all I do is encourage hope? What if all I do is bring a laugh or a smile or a concept to someone's mind?

Perhaps I am not one to bring dreams to fruition. Perhaps I am simply a dreamer. Is there anything wrong with that?

It seems that if one dreams and ponders and thinks long enough about a dream, eventually that dreaming and pondering and thinking will catalyze movement from somewhere.

So...which is more important, dreaming or accomplishing?

I've heard some say that dreaming is wrong, that words without actions are frivolous. What is wrong with dreaming? I understand it can be frustrating to never realize a dream. But what if a dream is meant to be just that....a dream.

Freedom for slaves was once only a dream. But then enough began to dream about it. Dreams are a seed for vision.

There are dreamers. There are vision builders. There are actualizers. Does that mean dreamers are less important? Does that mean dreamers are undisciplined and lazy? Perhaps progress, competitiveness, obsessive ambition, accomplishment-driven personalities that rise to the "top"...perhaps these have painted dreamers as lazy and undisciplined.

We need all three: dreams, vision, actualization. I guess people who achieve their dreams have all three. But that doesn't make them more successful or better than the others that dream or visualize.

There is a place for dreamers. Some of the dreams will come true. Eventually a dream pondered time and time again....eventually yields movement toward the dream.....


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Anxiety/Depression: one gal's perspective
Journal Entry
August, 2004

Yesterday I was in tears with anxiety. I was on the edge of paranoia....All I could see were all the tasks to be accomplished and all the standards to keep....

My son asked this morning what it was like:
Son: "Mom, you were on the verge of paranoia."
Me: "I know."
Son: "When that happens, do you get afraid you will die?"
Me: "No. In fact, death sounds like a welcome friend when paranoid. It is more like a terrible dread of total destitution, that I will become or am a complete failure. It is paralyzing and takes deliberate effort on my part to move forward. But it is different from depression."

To describe the difference:

Depression is utter despair, despondency. Depression is an extremely heavy state. Depression is like a giant slug that is dying. Flexibility exists but cannot be accessed. It is like a big, thick piece of rubber that if only one had the strength and will and ability to bend the rubber, one would. Yet the strength is not there. There is weakness and a great, indescribable heaviness. Depression is a deep, dark hole.

Anxiety and paranoia are quite different from depression. They are like glass: straight, flat glass; a broad endless sheet of glass. There is no flexibility. There is fear; fear that if a wrong move is made the glass will crack and the world will fall apart. It is paralyzing.

With depression there seem to be no options.

With anxiety there are 1000's of options, but you might choose the wrong one and fatality will result. You can see but all the options seem at a far distance or overwhelmingly close...and there are 1000's of options.


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Play: A Deep Subject
Journal Entry

Learning to play again is foundational to experiencing the fullness of life.

What is play? Freedom. Freedom of expression. Freedom of movement. Freedom of thought. Swings and creeks. Daisies. Bracelets in the sun.

Play has no time boundaries. Play has no schedule. Play flows and ripples like a creek with various dips, turns, waterfalls, and rate of flow. Sometimes it flows quickly and then gently slows into a quiet, relaxing swimming hole. Continue down the creek and the flow picks up speed again. Play is not stagnant. Play is open to unlimited possibilities.

Play is a child's work, a child's occupation. It is a child's calling and vocation. Play develops neural circuitry within that child's system that is crucial to the mental, emotional, and physical health and wellness of that child. I believe in neurogenesis. I learn to play again, my system will respond with the genesis of youthful, exuberant, fresh, joyous, satisfied, stimulating, flexible, intuitive neural circuitry. is a deep subject.


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Last edited by nekot on Tue Feb 22, 2011 3:32 pm, edited 57 times in total.
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Post by nekot » Tue May 01, 2007 7:02 am

Graeme wrote:Nekot, I read your journey, and it was truly inspiring.
:crying: :crying:

Thank you Graeme; that means a lot to me.

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Post by OriOnpheOnix » Sat Sep 29, 2007 10:41 pm



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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by heinzs » Sun Oct 21, 2007 4:19 pm

html tags converted 10/21/07

I'm having some trouble with the June and July links. The coding looks right but the links back to the top aren't working for some reason... have to do some sherlock holmes work here.

An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by heinzs » Sun Oct 21, 2007 4:32 pm

ok... i found it. You'll have to take care of the "center" tags that are in the wrong places... lol.

An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by nekot » Sun Oct 21, 2007 5:04 pm


Thanks Heinz.

If I have trouble getting uncentered, I'll drop you a line (or a circle :wink:). Usually I have no problem getting uncentered. :lol:

~eloquently scattered~
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Post by nekot » Wed Oct 31, 2007 4:05 pm

OriOnpheOnix wrote::cool:

Thanks Orion.


~eloquently scattered~
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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by BeeJay » Mon Nov 26, 2007 8:53 am

A river of prose has joined poetry and meandered this day accross oceans onto our doorstep. A journey no doubt we must in some measure concede is bequethed by the stars. But in these lines there is tenacity and a growing self-belief in the future albeit in small doses. But what of the courage it took to look at ourself in the mirror and see more than what others see and one day allowing the multitude of humanity to be witness to the struggle we often didnt win! So much little one in one lifetime that the read leaves me poised to dare open a door within the deepest layers of myself.___BeeJay :hugs:
If the Universe was a little smaller , I may just be able to reach out to you. Copyright © 2009 Baru Gobira

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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by nekot » Wed Nov 28, 2007 7:10 pm

:crying: :angel: :grin:

Yes....thank you Baru. :bow:

How does one say thank you in India.
All I know is "namaste"...:bow:
~eloquently scattered~
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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by nekot » Tue Jan 08, 2008 11:16 am

Emancipation: 2007

~december, 2oo7~


My words are empty
All seem vain
Nothing is the only way
I can explain
The void I feel
The deathly silence
Beneath the scribblings
Upon my wearied heart

december 03, 2oo7


Back to Index :arrow:


Bottom of the Slippery Slope

I'm stuck in a muddle
A murky fucked puddle
Nothing to feel or to say
Please give me a paddle
So I can skidaddle
Row my stuck ass on its way

december 03, 2oo7


Back to Index :arrow:


Child's View

O child in me awaken and remember to recall
The joy of virgin witness, first time that I saw

Thrill to spy the ocean spray
Moon dictate the tide each day
Dig my toes in seashore surf
Drip sand castles along her turf
Watch the dolphin sail up high
The smile and sparkle in her eye

Heart's delight when snowflakes fall
Excitement to hear coyote's call
In wonderment watch the butterfly
Unfurl his wings in first flight
Hold tight a kite on a string
Feel the pull of wind unseen

Oh God I pray I never lose
Eyes to behold each day as new

december 09, 2oo7

Back to Index :arrow:


My Soul Doth Smile

Colors in the dew
teardrop of eternity
possess my soul

Stardust diffused
burst of nativity
reveal my beginning

Wind on the waves
rhythms crossing cultures
open my heart

Colors, stardust, wind
Teardrop, burst , rhythms
Possess, reveal, open

Engulf the spirals
that are me
fill the well

december 14, 2oo7 ... 11&t=54299

Back to Index :arrow:


Seagull Tattoo

someday I will soar the lofts
light as the butterfly
with strength of the eagle
upon the winds I shall rest


others shall peer
from their hidden crevices
some will join the flight
together we'll discover

silver linings in every cloud
mysteries hidden in each ice crystal
peace within the eye of the storm
treasures awaiting at rainbow's end

someday there will be harmony
won't there?

december 19, 2oo7 ... 11&t=54298

Back to Index :arrow:

~november, 2oo7~

Elliptical Enchantment

Stately magnolia
Regal, splendid, statuesque
Lush open flower
White cradling pink
Among green and mahogany

Beneath her eloquent boughs
Pillows of moss and clover
Scattered boulders among pine needles
Harshness of life's survival
Seeds awaiting birth

Gracefully she sways
Earthly rhythms serenade
Sweet fragrance envelops every sense
Bathed in warm breezes
Swaddled in elliptical enchantment

She stretches toward the heavens
To glimpse the soft horizon
Setting of the celestial sphere
Moonlit stars, nature's graffiti
Trundling the cusp of the Milky Way

I behold your form
[indent]~magnolia's blossom~[/indent]
I gaze into your eyes
[indent]~rivers of mahogany~[/indent]
I feather your flesh with fingertips
[indent]~more delicate than moss and clover~[/indent]
I drink in your fragrance
[indent]~intoxicating sweet breezes~[/indent]

Sensuous lyrical whispers
[indent]~rhythm rocks our souls~[/indent]
Luminous hypnotic aura
[indent]~immersed in celestial shadow~[/indent]
Enticing flower opens
[indent]~ripples of desire~[/indent]
Elliptical ecstasy
[indent]~horizon of nativity~[/indent]

Entwined in delicate symmetry
Cradled in the afterglow
Breath's survival, awaiting birth
Circle of life
Riding the cusp of the Milky Way

november 6, 2oo7
(november challenge)

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Remnants in Cocoons

You knock
I open, safety latch intact
[indent]peering through the one-inch gap[/indent]
Stunned to see you
My heart flutters
Momentary silence

You glance down
Then slowly look up
Your eyes moistened with
[indent]uncertainty, yet a sparkle of delight[/indent]
Your lips solemn
Upward curves dimple the corners
Momentary silence

I breathe
Unhook the latch
Not quite sure what to expect
Cautiously allowing entree
[indent]to the surface of my heart[/indent]
Momentary shuffles

Small talk at first
Polite lies
Keeping up appearances
Awkwardness pervades the atmosphere
The proverbial dance
[indent]around the elephant in the room[/indent]
Momentary two-step

"Look! An elephant!"
I stop the music
Magically the beast disappears
The dance ceases
[indent]the room now filled with us[/indent]
Momentary silence

I expose my soul, colors unfurl
Your guard drops and you follow suit
Emotions spin, memories unravel tidied lives
[indent]~bitter wrapped in sweet[/indent]
[indent]~gratitude entwined with remorse[/indent]
[indent]~hope woven with despair[/indent]
Momentary Truth

You exit
I collect the remnants strewn on the floor
Revealed truths now tucked away
Colors folded and retired
Door reclosed
[indent]safety latch resecured[/indent]
Momentary dreams

november 7, 2oo7 ... 14&t=54138

Back to Index :arrow:

~october, 2oo7~


Maybe my heart is polluted with mire
Maybe my hopes are false fantasies
Maybe my dreams are empty vapors

You smashed them, braying them with your heel
You taunted them, smearing them with labels
You mocked them, wagging them in my face

Displaying their idiocy before your eyes
Eyes that have beheld my naked soul

Another assault on my heart
Another assault regarding trust

Trust in my own heart
Ridiculed again
By the voice of authority

Perhaps it really doesn't matter anyway....

Children are dying every moment

october 6, 2007

Back to Index :arrow:


A Time to Every Purpose

I stare
At the horizontal lines
Flat, two-dimensional
Perfectly spaced
Gaping for ink stains
But the quill is dry
The inkwell, empty

Has the muse died?
Does she still call?

Dusty shovel props in the corner
Weeds overgrow the garden
The teen weeps behind closed doors
The aged reminisces in silence, alone

Lift the trowel
Weed the plot
Wipe the tears
Embrace the aged

An open hand
Can fill the inkwell
And satiate
The famished page

october 12, 2oo7

Back to Index :arrow:


The Mighty Mountain

Your words are wearisome
as they gyrate sanctimonium,
round and round they roll
like a steamroller
trying to level a mighty mountain.

The more you prate
the farther from you I flee,
to refresh my soul in the marrow
abiding deep within the forest
of the mighty mountain.

Why do you deface such beauty with dis-grace?
Why do you paint her spirit so petty?
Why do you trample her life-giving essence?
Why do you deem the mountain so small?

Your steam will run dry
and though it stripped a tiny morsel
laying bare a small hillside,
your levelled chafe will be erased
and the lush hillside will flourish again
upon the mighty mountain.

The wildwood will blossom,
its glorious grandeur and strength
displayed for those who have eyes to see,
shelter and sustanence reviving sojourners
upon the mighty mountain.

A bush-league major cannot raze
the pristine quintessence
that abides within,
that thrives upon,
that displays her glory,
with the mighty mountain.

october 21, 2oo7

Special thanks to Annie whose trust rests in the mightiest mountain. :bow:

Back to Index :arrow:

~september, 2oo7~

Datura Stramonium
To Dance with the Devil

Sun ablaze
August heat
Beads of sweat
Fleshly dew

Steady hike
Upon the trail
Through the pasture
Amid green meadows

Insects play
Crickets chirp
Butterflies dance
Innocent choreography

On purple flowers
Of feathery palms
Gracefully adorning
Poisonous pods

That incubate
Wicked seeds
In spiky armor
The Devil's weed

Once ingested
The netherworld
Displays its horrors
Ten-thousand fold

Fears take form
In ghastly fashion
Terror personified
Soul's violation

Gills to breathe
Housed with the mad
In aquatic sphere
Of cryptic lunacy

Open rape
Asylum incarceration
Flesh-eating roaches
Parasitic hallucinations

Upon return
To the light
Forever changed
Paranoia's blight

Harmless dance
Of butterflies
On nectar sweet
Of madness divine

september 8, 2oo7 ... 3102&start

Back to Index :arrow:


If I Had Wings

I yearn to enter
a world of fantasy
where I can fly
upon midnight dreams

to smell the colors
yet undiscovered
to taste the scents
of jasmine and rose

to hear the touch
of feathers light
to feel and hold
reflection's sight

to pirouette, to twirl
time out of mind
never getting dizzy
drinking in each spin

to swing so high
I touch the clouds
to hover as a hummingbird
never falling down

to float upon the breezes
bend and sway in the azure blue
to waltz across the rainbow
fully engulfed in every hue

fantasy's flight take my hand
to dance, to fly, in full glory
lead me to the enchanted land
aboriginal shores of life's true story

september 10, 2oo7 ... 3105&start

Back to Index :arrow:


The Cricket

A cricket sat upon
My golden glasses rim
He looked me in the eye
And I looked back at him

His eyes were big and round
One eyelid blinked a wink
I gazed at him and asked
"What is it that you think?"

He bobbed his head, stroked his legs
Playing a solemn tune
Then he answered wisely
Beneath the silver moon

"My life it may be short
Yet I work day and night
My melodies I play
With great purpose and delight

For those in wood and town
The two-legged creatures great
Reminding them that if I cease
They'll know it is too late."

He hopped right off my glasses
And sauntered to the trees
At night now when I hear him
I bow upon my knees

september 15, 2oo7 ... 149#393149

Back to Index :arrow:


Will There Be?

Every individual
that ever drew a breath
had someone who loved them.

No matter the committed crime,
no matter any grave atrocity,
no matter which unpardonable sin...
someone, somewhere
loved her, loved him.

As naive as it may be
as childish as it seems
my great hope is that
somehow, someway
even the heinous soul
shall one day be redeemed.

Will there be an hour
with every soul united
to a mother's love?

Will there be a time
with every soul united
to a father's hope?

Whether right or wrong,
I want to believe 'tis so.
For now I'll continue to dream;
for now I'll continue to hope.

september 16, 2oo7

Inspired by Tom Talbott ... 150#393150

Back to Index :arrow:


Treading Water

Marinated in muddy waters
No shore in clear sight
Body wearied, mind fatigued
Unending, incessant treading

Stir the water with dangling legs
Stroke the surface with rhythmic arms
No end to the constant movement
That keeps my head a bobbing

~maybe if I stop~

Quit churning up the silt
Let clear waters rise
Allow myself to float

~maybe if I stop~

Yield to the transparent current
Trust the buoyant ebb and flow
Allow myself to drift

~perhaps maybe, just maybe~

Peace will embrace
Trust will unfold
Message discovered
From clear streams of life
Ripples of cosmic oasis

september 21, 2oo7

Back to Index :arrow:



Have you ever rowed the Molasses River?
Felt it course through your veins?
Every function, every movement
Impeded by its flow


simple tasks

two-minute teeth brushing
...feels like ten...

ten-minute shower
...feels like thirty...

one has to talk oneself
through the next ought

But alas! Push on through!
Continue to paddle
One stroke at a time
However heavy be the sculling

Before we condemn our neighbor
Recall the Molasses River
We oar through viscid currents
Sadly we also stagnate
Cemented in crystallinity

september 30, 2007 ... 24&t=53500

Back to Index :arrow:


Rear-view Mirror

From time to time
I think of you....
my heart hurts
for what could have been.

But then again
it may not have been
the ideal that I imagine.

Yet still I hope
that our hearts embrace
and share once again
the passion still reflected
in the rear-view mirror.

september 30, 2007

Back to Index :arrow:

~august, 2oo7~

Procrastination phd

another month passed
tasks unheeded
in a heap
just like the month before
except now,
piled higher and deeper

august 3, 2oo7 ... 154#389154

Back to Index :arrow:



~ jerk ~
* retard *
~ idiot ~

broken record in my head
whisperings of defection
blotch on humanity
I am my own worst enemy

~ stupid ~
* fuck up *
~ moron ~

demon's finger
holds the stylus in the groove
gramophone of defeat
abrasions of self destruction

round and round
over and over
again and again
same damn growlings

at least they could expand their vocabulary

august 3, 2oo7 ... 162#389162

Back to Index :arrow:


How Can I Not Believe?

bowels of passion
once again
flooded with tears
sacrificial drops of praise
mixed with grief
infused with pain
yet cradled
with deep gratitude
flowing from
celestial breath

How can I not believe?

your invisible hand
gently guides
tending my soul
in spite of my foolish pride
may my heart
never grow hard
but remain open
to feel
to grieve
to rejoice

How can I not believe?

you said
that if I make my bed in the depths of Sheol
~you are there~

free me from doubt
free me from vainglory
allow me liberty
to dance
arms outstretched
fully exposed and unashamed
to sing
open face in your glory
despite my doubt
despite my fear

you said
that you will never leave me
~ with all that you have done for me ~

How can I not believe?

august 9, 2oo7

Special thanks to Byron ... 676#389676

Back to Index :arrow:


The Ride

My loins straddle the dapple gray
Her sinews 'neath my thighs
She shakes her head, impetuous fervor
Awaiting my signal to embark the ride

Forward I lean, her neck to embrace
She turns her face, crystal blue eye
Filled with excitement, it speaks to me
Nostrils flare, arousal is high

I read her, she reads me
I sit upright, we both breathe deep
Silver mane now in my palms
Anticipation's climax, heart's pulsing beat

Bodies' rhythms dance as equals
She detects the press from my knees
Tossing her head, she springs forward
Nothing but wind beneath her feet

Passionate fury, we move as one
Rainbow's edge, far side of the storm
Freedom once tasted, never forgotten
Upon my dapple gray unicorn

august 12, 2oo7

Back to Index :arrow:


Head-on Collision

I enter the giant building
Aseptic walls, sterile scent
White robes, green scrubs
Beeps and hydraulic hisses

I enter your glass-door encasement
On your back, more still than night
Able only to move your eyes
Staring at the white ceiling

Harrowing sight before me
Your body stretched like a hammock
Metal halo encircles your skull
Held tightly with stainless steel screws

Our eyes meet, tears spill over
Trickle of pain flows down your cheeks
62 years now behind you
Uncertain terror of what lie ahead

Never again in this life will you know
Thrill of the hike
Glory of the golf swing
Wind of the ski slope
Frigid chills in your toes
Warm touch to your thigh

To hold a hand
To stroke a cat
To tie a shoe
To lift a child
To button a button
To zip a zipper

Flip the steak
Carve the roast
Pinch Mom on her bottom
Dance a Glen Miller swing
Click the camera
Foreign to the life that awaits you

Only dead weight beneath your shoulders

C-4 sever
One split-second moment
Cataclysmic aftermath

august 19, 2oo7 ... 2793&start

Back to Index :arrow:


Ground Zero

I stand on the edge
Three-hundred foot cliff
Rays of the sun pierce my pupils
Daggers of distress take their victim
Tears run dry
Now I seek my rest
Numbness engulfs me
Only the updraft can rescue

I step onto the wind

august 20, 2oo7

Back to Index :arrow:



Left hand holds the book
Right hand flips the pages

Left hand aids the balance
Right hand steers the wheel

Left hand grasps the cuff
Right hand slides the zipper

Left hand forms the chords
Right hand strums the strings

Left hand supports
Right hand conducts

Left hand quietly rests
Right hand speaks with ink

My right hand
Is it the wiser?

It is the risk taker

august 22, 2oo7 ... 276#392276

Back to Index :arrow:


Metacarpal Vestment


wrinkled with time
touched 1000 palms
crossed cultural boundaries

knowledge, innovation
compassion, connection
wiping tears, venting rage

furrows of hidden secrets
timeless folded imprints
weathered with age


august 22, 2oo7 ... 658#390658

Back to Index :arrow:

~july, 2oo7~

Abandonment - Part II

Summer eve
Knotty pine walls
Hardwood floor
Oak cabinets
Antique hutch
Cherry table
Dining room
Embellished with rustic hues

Dishes clean
Two moons have passed
He has waited so patiently
Tis night when next we meet

I'm ready

I ask,
"How? How did you protect my heart?"

"I protected it from loneliness...."

"That makes no sense.
Abandonment is loneliness."

Heat meets cold
Electric air
Fervor in the skies

His eyes look down
then gently look up.
Furrowed brow
solemn smile.
I protected you from rage."

Thunder cracks
Lightening splits the heavens
Fury in the air
Rain like shotgun pellets
Heart in my throat

"If not for me,
would have engulfed you.
Your heart would have become as cold as ice,
repelling any who approached you.
Loneliness would have been your constant companion
feeding the rage.
I kept your heart tender."

Storm crescendos
Violent fury
Heart melts in surrender
Then the calm

Tears pour forth
I understand



His purpose now fulfilled
He is home ~ I am home
He is free ~ I am free
No longer a faceless shadow

july 1, 2007 ... 364#385364

Back to Index :arrow:


Get Over It

Another sleep-deprived night
thoughts of you,
wondering if I am even a spark
between your neurons.

Seems like if I were
you'd at least drop a line,
check in - you know - like you fucking cared.
You used to care to fuck.

You said it wasn't the same
as 27 years ago,
but it is.

You open my heart
spill your fucking guts
sweetest damn words I've ever heard.

Then you shut the fucking door
like you're just a-passing through
and I'm left wondering in nothingness.

Did I become distasteful
after this surgery on my heart?
Am I a leper...or worse yet, an unbeliever?

If I died tonight
you wouldn't give one god damn iota.
Why the fuck do I waste my time
thinking about you?

I think I move beyond it
and damn if it doesn't
rise to the top again.
How fucking long does this shit take?

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on...
Sorry if it makes you feel bad.
Ha! Get over it.

july 2, 2007

Blind Pig Forum: ... 467#385467

Back to Index :arrow:



of nonexistence

I despise it with a passion

of hypocrisy

I pray I never bow again

If left unchecked they breed a rage
to the blind audience

unchecked leads to

And the dazed, nescient crowd wonders

there's more than meets
the ear

july 3, 2007 ... 581#385581

Back to Index :arrow:



Upon my porch I sit
Wrapped in the morning melody
Birds, breezes, cicadas
Singing in perfect harmony

Weeping willow in full array
Swaying with the tune
Sunbeams dance upon her
Tiny lights, a multitude

Yet the oak leaves are not shimmering
Nor the elms, nor the figs
Only the weeping willow
Displays one thousand glitterings

Tears perhaps, is she crying?
Yet her display is not of gloom
Rather tiny sparkles glistening
Tears of God renewed

Splendor of hope
Upon the weeping willow

july 4, 2007 ... 723#385723

Back to Index :arrow:


Free Me From This Bitterness

Sin of lies revealed
Conscience eye left with choices
Denial - hidden reality
Justification - double standard
Exposure - surface truth
What to believe, what to discard
In this world run by lies

What rests beneath these fabrications?
Labyrinths of circumstance
Crossroads of life's decisions
Heartaches of trying to survive
In this world run by lies

The great judge inquires
Eyes filled with deep compassion
His voice resonant with virtue
"What is the plea?"
In this world run by lies

Heart engaged, I search my soul
Honestly I do not know
Some counts guilty
Some counts innocent
In this world run by lies

Poised with sobered kindness
Timbre rich with mercy
Gently smiling he replies
"I understand, I've walked the path"
In this world run by lies

His tender grace floods the soul
Cleansing streams cascade my cheeks
He carefully atones each stain-filled tear
Absorbing the bitterness in my heart
Boundless bowels of forgiveness
The only exit
In this world run by lies

july 19, 2oo7 ... 580#387580

Back to Index :arrow:

~june, 2oo7~

The Great Archeologist

A seed of pain
buried 'neath black earth
lying dormant until the rain
begins to feed the soil.

This seed might grow
its flower for all to view
bearing noxious fruit of vexation,
toxic juices unrestrained.

A seed of pain
buried deep in stony layers,
bearing no fruit readily seen
silently trapped, embedded in lithosphere.

Unearthed only by the Great Archeologist,
this seed excavated from its crusty berth.
Few there are who ever see
the painful spore exhumed, unearthed.

But for the few and for the one who apperceive
the imprisoned germ 'neath the soil,
a freedom found, an honor gained, gratitude offered....
the Great Archeologist's tender toil.

june 2, 2007 ... 123#382123

Back to Index :arrow:


"Until Then"

Pristine notes, words of praise
Age-old hymns bestow God's light
The dark-skinned man bellows deep
Sings with all his might

Causing my heart to swell

He sings of endurance
He sings of joy
He sings of pain in the temporal now
He sings of everlasting streets of gold

Causing my tears to roll

Well, is it true O God my Lord?
Will there someday be
This home of peace, of bliss, of joy
A place of forever harmony?

Causing my soul to cry fervently

Surely 'tis true that all shall see
Face to face and eye to eye
Surely 'tis true there'll be a time
All wrongs to be made right

Causing my spirit to yearn

Until that day, O God, I pray
Allow my heart to stay tender
My eyes to see beyond hostility
And never evil for evil to render

Your boundless love, God of Life,
Causing my breast to hope eternal

june 5, 2007 ... 260#382260

Back to Index :arrow:


Carousel Sphere

I dwelt among the trees today
From sunrise through the night
All the while senses keen
Songbirds, breezes, streaming light

Wildwood pageant stirs my soul
Mourning dove coos her tune
Sun sets below the horizon
Wind whistles 'neath the moon

Lilies close their petal doors
Fireflies light their mating dance
Dogs bay their warning calls
Shooting stars announce their final glance

I stand upon the mountain's edge
Across the valley sails a hum
Leaves roll their chant o'er the crests
My cheeks kissed by zephyr's strum

Night after night this story echoes
The same display as ages past
I stand in awe, majestic beauty
Ever so patient, spinning so fast

june 10, 2007 ... 887#382887

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I cannot find words to write
Disorientation in my mind
One side says yes and then says no.
I grasp for truth with substance

How can I believe me
How can I believe you
When the substance is but vapor?
After so many lies it's hard for the heart to trust

But trust I must
Or else my heart will crater
My life's substance will dissipate.
For without trust, what else can I hold onto

june 11, 2007 ... 070#383070

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Tears spill, salty rivulets.
Shoulders droop, wearied slopes.
Verve empty, droughty soil.
Sinews heavy, imploding sun.

lies, disappointment, rejection
doubt, ugliness, self hate

At times it feels I'll never crawl out
from rituals deeply chiseled.
One day I hope, next day I waiver,
resistance slippery as oil.

Dreams fade overtaken by ingrained futility.

God, help me see beyond the dismal now,
hide me in your bosom!
Heal the schism in my heart
forged by mores of deceit.

Help me trust again.

june 12, 2007 ... 079#383079

Back to Index :arrow:


Praise (acrostic)

Progeny arises from the womb
Resonance vibrates enlivening cells
Anima awakens the rhythmic heart
Identity one, yet not alone
Soul once unseen now draped with form
Embarks afresh this journey of life

june 15, 2007 ... 760#383760

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I've tried once over to pen this prose
of times and anniversaries,
events carved within me,
permanent forged memories.

I trip to make the words to rhyme
the cadence trickle true,
my heart a vat of jumbled thoughts
tangled chords of disharmony.

You appeared upon my pages
one year ago today,
changing my life, transporting me
into vaults presumed forever sealed.

And though the pain ran deep
like daggers in my heart,
as light that blinds when one has lived
a long time in the dark.

And though at first the prism hues
so bright were hard to bear,
I looked inside and found therein
a priceless buried treasure.

Time now passed and truth revealed
love in my soul no longer bound.
Scars remain, yet the wound has healed
My heart, once more, forever found.

kaleidoscope of memories
once bound in crystal tears
...never to be locked again...

june 22, 2007 ... 535#384535

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~may, 2oo7~

Lessons from Darkness

cold, windy, dark

Faint reflections of obscure light
struggle to reach the floor
through the forest trees.

silk, wool, down

Each weathered traveler
layered with coverings
for protection from the elements.

boots, gloves, hood

Each expiration my breath echoes
as I peer beyond my quilted cowl,
relieved by the sight of human forms.

Sheathed with weather proofing
hiding from the crystal-laden steel air,
our contours appear similar.

At least we have these openings
through which to look around,
assuring ourselves that we are not alone.

A clearing in the timbers.
To the east?
The same landscape.
To the west?
A denser, darker patch.

Some go east.
Others go west.

I need a change,
I choose west.
Besides, I've heard it's always darker
right before the dawn.

We enter the haunted thicket
frostbite in the air,
darkness swallows us.
Our bodies gather closer,
it feels safer that way.

Huddling we trudge.
The temperature amongst us rises,
some remove their hoods.
It's nice to see a human face again,
to hear another voice in place
of my echoed breath.

The warmth gives rise to hope.
Survival with grace

We struggle through the thick darkness,
no longer obscure human figures.
Forced to travel more closely,
it is clear our forms are uniquely shaped.
Each contour has its place along our sunless path.
Necessity with grace

Landscape changes,
darkness slowly fades to light,
images become lucid.

limpid, warm, inviting

Sun shines clearly
streaming lightly to the floor
though the scattered trees.

Layer by layer
we discard our protective garments.
Our outlines now in full array,
beauty to our eyes
deep appreciation
each mortal significant, distinct.

Survival, necessity, grace
Life, significance, purpose

Darkness to light

edit: may 5, 2007

may 3, 2007 ... 203#379203

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Leave Me Smiling

Some sing high
Some sing low
Some sing in between

Some move fast
Some move slow
Some move in the mean

Whatever your pitch
Whatever your tone
Whatever your rhythm or beat

Allow your voice
Express your own,
Then pass some over to me.

A smile and a wink you're sure to see.

:wink: :hello: :wink:

may 7, 2007

(And you thought this was gonna be about sex. :lol:) ... 588#379588

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Abandonment - Part I

Two dimensional
Straight arms
Collinear legs
A shadow

Its name?

I gaze
scared, yet compassionate.
It has abode here a long time
hiding in the dark.
No voice, yet always present.
It would have echoed before
had I noticed it.

I'm ready

It takes form
Three dimensional
No eyes or nose
Yet, a mouth
Curved arms
Shapely legs
Still a shadow

He enters the banquet
and takes his seat quietly
at the far end of the table,
across from me.
Once comfortable, he simply observes
with a gentle smile.

The others politely ask,
"Where are you from?"
"How long have you been here?"
"Would you like some beans?"

He lightly chuckles.
Feeling welcome
he settles in.
I study him.
Features appear.
Our eyes meet,
trust engendered.


I ask,
"What is your purpose?"

"Protection," he responds.
"I helped protect your heart."

Puzzled, I reply,

....He breathes....

"That is for later.
Right now it just feels good
to be noticed
to have entree
to banquet
to be acknowledged."

We sit quietly and comfortably,
the meal ends.

"Would you like help with the dishes?"
he smiles.

may 11, 2007 ... 855#379855

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Dear John
(The Real Thing)

You've tended my soul gently,
how can I repay
the goodness you infuse in me
the trust your heart conveys?

We've been through hell and back again
weathered tempestuous storms,
internal bruises, wrenching pains
through conflict courage forged.

You saw beyond my weaknesses
horizons I couldn't see
through buffets, trials, sicknesses,
endurance, forgiveness, mercy.

My heart forever devoted
with you I'll always stay,
love of my life, my soul
until our dying day.

And then throughout eternity
our lives continue to unfold,
with peace and perfect harmony
the stories yet untold.

may 17, 2007

I love you John.
With all my heart,
Carol ... 965#380965

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For Me, For You

I had, I had
a very good day

So much, so much
laughter and play

I do, I do
wish for you

The same, the same
your whole life through

And if, and if
when you are sad

I hope, I hope
it's not too bad

And soon, and soon
that smiles come through.

Laughter and play
Smiles and hope
For me, for me
For you, for you.

may 17, 2007

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High Tide

The ocean pulls debris
from across the sea
landing it upon the shore
lying before me.

Then the mighty waves
pull debris from me
carry it across the sea
to the shore of another's door.

O deep sea I pray
Take from me my heart's debris!
Engulf it within your belly's depths!
To fully feel your violent fury!

Energized by your abysmal currents
Engaged in your stream of life
Seize the bitterness, rage, and anger
Spawned from the womb of lies and strife.

If a cyclone it stirs to roar
Let her dance upon your expanse
Spewing her venom far from shore
So not to poison another's door.

Once the ravaged vortex ceases
Let it soak its wearied course
Purified with sun and salt
To inherit a new life force.

Yes, take from me my heart's debris!
Yet let it fulfill its passage
So when it beaches the opposite shore
Its toxic waste betides no more.

may 19, 2007 ... 752#380752

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Why is it that you vaunt yourself
yet do not see within
the fingers pointing backwards
as you pharisaically condemn?

It stirs in me a fury!
I cannot mute stand by
when in my heart I know full well
there's more than meets the eye!

I pray I dare not sink so low
and stoop to your estate,
using your sin to slander you
my heel your heart to grate.

But if I sink I pray to God
forgiveness for my sin,
redemption from this anger
that boils 'neath my skin.

may 19, 2007 ... 754#380754

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~april, 2oo7~


You call me.
tribal voice within
quieter than breath
awakening my essence

You coax me.
song i can't resist
luring me
with whistles on the wind

You envelop me.
beauty to behold
entwining melodies
embroidery within my soul

Is this the muse?
This tribal voice?
This heartfelt cry?
This whispering force?

With open face and open heart
I hear, I taste, I feel.
Vibrations of creation
No longer can lie still.

Humbly I acquiesce
Spirit's imprinted symphony.
Rhythmic ancestral echo
Tunes every cell in harmony.

Beckoning I surrender
With honor and a dance.
My heart glides in joyful unison
The triumphant shout of "YES!"

april 22, 2007

april 2, 2007

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Butterflies Will Dance

Thank you for your kindness,
thank you for your open heart.

Thank you for the gentle way
you allowed my soul
to grieve and rage,
to simply ride these waves.

Closure now allowed
hidden pain exposed
the closet put in order,
I'm finally letting go.

Here I close this casket
with my hands I fill the grave
cool dark soil in my palms,
grace has soothed the pain.

This plot of nourished soil
will feed the greenest growth
among daffodils and jonquils,
and a four-leaf clover show.

And butterflies will dance
betwixt the sprouts of life
reminding me of that which was,
and of the future bright.


april 2, 2007

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A Broom and A Tiara

Do not sweep the ugliness
Underneath the doormat,
Do not try to hide the shame
Filth that smears the heart.

Sit with it; embrace it
Therein will you find
An oddly pristine beauty
A purpose for its cry.

A cry to be acknowledged
Not to be ignored
With courage set to gravedom
Or swept to freedom's shore.

Beauty it is said
Is in the eye of the beholder
Within each battered pain
A crown awaiting honor.

april 7, 2007 ... 407#376407

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One Piece of Trash

I saw a piece of trash
on the ground today.
I could have walked right by
and let that litter lay.

I paused a moment, looked around,
as people quickly passed.
Reaching down I wondered,
why do we move so fast?

Maybe folks will notice
when the litter is a heap.
I hope we soon slow down
before it gets too deep.

april 11, 2007

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Hashed Ink

I want to write but hesitate
For time and time again
'Tis the same ole theme
Spills over from my pen.

april 15, 2007

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Your essence spoke
within my heart.
You told me it's okay
to weep,
to cry,
allow the time
to learn the imprint that you made

within my soul
upon my cells
closer than my kin.
I shed these tears
with grateful sorrow
for the man you could have been.

I think your name's appropriate,
Protector of mankind.

I hope it's true
what some say:
that I'll hold you
touch you
drink in your fragrance
on that future day.

I love you.

april 25, 2007

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Perhaps It's Not Rebellion

What is it I rebel against?

Bills screaming to be paid
deadlines taunting self importance,
tedious demands hold sway.

What is it I rebel against?

Straight lines, formal rows, set bells
sanctimonious-imposed order,
steamrolled perfectionistic hell.

What is it I rebel against?

At times I suffer angst
toward the conformity surrounding me,
molds constraining our humanity.

Each heart beats a rhythm
birthed uniquely for that one,
no dies cast identical
beneath our flaming sun.

'Tis individuality
that makes us humans whole.
I pray we never lose
the insubordinate soul.

What is it I rebel against?

Perhaps it's not rebellion;
no, not at all.
But life that summons up
the rebel-rousing call.

april 13/april 26, 2007

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Open Hands

At times I don't feel good enough
to approach certain folks of rank
who in my eyes seem holier
where my voice begins to shrink.

In their presence I am small
yet they have been kind to me
but seldom do they let me see
that side of them that's dirty.

I cannot hide my filthy side
it's part of who I am
through it I find redemption
the need to hold a hand.

Perhaps we would be holier
if we allowed with open face
our dirtied souls' exposures
and open hands that offer grace.

april 30, 2007

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~march, 2oo7~

each soul a gift

when i turn toward Love
doubt dissipates
when i turn toward Love
fear disintegrates

soul, diffuse
hands, reach forth
allow the gift

doubt, dissipate
fear, disintegrate
Love, liberate

waste not the gift

march 2, 2007 ... highlight=

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How did you arrive?
Wrestle through the night?

My heart, a dichotomy.
One day, yes
Next day, no
Do others know this too?
Surely I'm not alone.

How did you arrive?
Trust through the trial?

I hang my head
At times in shame
My soul will not let go.
Do others know this to?
Surely I'm not alone.

march 6, 2007 ... highlight=

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Soul Stew

Soul you're not at peace
Continually you're stirred
A variety of vittles
All topsy turvy churned.

These vittles boil and cool
O'er and o'er again
Why not let them simmer
Allow the flavors blend.

Soul be not discouraged
As the flavors brew
For tis spice and simmer
That make a tasty stew.

march 6, 2007 ... highlight=

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i curl
fetal, rejecting touch
detestable, ugly
i despise myself so much

body heavy
mind slow
words sparse
heart low

You stand
adult, with confident air
praiseworthy, bold
fading i disappear

insignificance engulfs me

i strain to uncurl
a child yearning to grow
awkward, small
my worth i'll never know

But stretch i must
reach forth
to touch
to feel
to learn
to trust


"body, lighten"
"mind, open"
"words, flow"
"heart, strengthen"

I stand erect
adult, clinging to courage
yet timid, pliable
hoping I make a difference.

march 09, 2007 ... 971#373971

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If Only

I thought I was through
the grief, the loss, the longing.
I guess it comes in stages
o'er and o'er again.

How many times must I cross this bridge?

I cannot seem to stop
this river's rise and swell.
A life its own, it spills over.
My soul once again overwhelmed
with sorrow, grief, tears of deep remorse.

I wish I had a dam
to somehow contain the swell.
But I don't
So I guess I'll let it spill.

march 10, 2007 ... highlight=

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In the Fishbowl

In a fishbowl
I bump the glass
trying to swim
beyond the transparent barrier.

To survive beyond
I need a new design,
different equipment
from my gill-oxygenated carrier.

My guppy eyes stare
wondering, pondering.
How would it feel
to breathe that air?

I shrug

Swimming back to my castle I play awhile
among the faux coral and seaweed.
I ascend upon sprinkled kelp to feed,
then settle again with a contented smile.


Back at the edge with my guppy-eyed stare.

In a fishbowl
trying to swim beyond
the transparent barrier.

march 12, 2007

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Bubble Trouble

I lived in a bubble
for a long time.
Sometimes I'd try
to poke through.

I'd push and push
Stretch that bubble
But then.....BOING

I'd bounce right back to the same place again.

Finally one day along came a pin
Pricked a hole in the bubble's skin.
Decompression pulled me out
Sadly, others were crushed within.

Then I'll be befuddled
when I find myself
stuck to another bubble.

Damn this bubble trouble!

Stuck to the outside
A force trying to pull me in,
I almost slip through
but then I remember
I'd been given a pin.


Some inside escape like I
Others are crushed within.
One thing for sure that I've determined
Ain't no way in hell I'm going back in.

March 12, 2007

Special thanks to Norm. :hello: ... highlight= ... highlight=

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Approval No Longer the Master

I despise these fucking standards
Decades fed with perfectionism
I wish I could simply erase
This god-damned approval addiction

Self blame a continual resident
Yet the guilt does not all lie with me
Perhaps it is the warped standards
Of a false-sterile society

I've grown to detest sterility
It breeds a disease in secrecy
'Tis a playground for deception
Murdering individuality

How can I grow beyond it
Without loosing a ravenous beast
Whose been chained and finally tastes freedom
With a lusting impulse to feast

Upon the cravings denied it
Starved of the sense to feel
To allow emancipation
Will its hunger therein be healed

Or this insatiable desire to feed
To express without repression
Will it slay that which it needs
And devour its yearned for companion

Nay, if allowed to follow its longing
The famine put out to pasture
This beast will patiently gentle
Approval no longer the master

march 14, 2007 / april 01, 2oo7 ... highlight=

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A Bow and A Curtsy

You bow
I curtsy
Eyes smile
Faces glow

Your palms
My palms
Tender touch
Entrancing calm

Strings strum
Woodwinds purr
Rhythms beat
Magical stir

You lead
I follow
Lost in flight
Symphonic light

Feet with wings
Together one
We spin and sway
Melody done

You bow
I curtsy


march 19, 2007 ... 895#375895

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Lies to protect
Within stir rage
Hypocritical roles
Upon life's stage

Words of deceit
In wisdom's guise
Murders the heart
Falsely blinds eyes

Tell me the truth
Straight to my face
Treat me with dignity
Naked with grace

Now or later
The price will be paid
Don't lie to protect
This masquerade

march 21, 2007 ... 418#374418

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I despise this heinous place
Pulled like steel to magnet
Into the self drama
From which I had escaped

A rope begins to bind
The expressions of my heart
I grimace and I writhe
Deny this bond its prize

Who controls this cord
Stealthily creeping in
Invisible yet strong
Strangling my passion

Invisible to the eye
I see it with my heart
I feel its grip within
Tightening the cinch

Deny this girth its access!
Cast it to the ground!
Hurl this bit and rein!
My heart will not be bound!

I know 'twill be back
Its tricks to try again
One more time I'll cast it
And make my soul my friend

march 26, 2007 ... highlight=

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significance beneath my sandal

one grain of rock
trampled under
crushed beneath
my sandal

no thought given
to its suffering
for it is
but gravel

yet this pebble
tossed on water
rippled pond
life aroused

one day trampled
no thought given
form concealed

another day
tossed to freedom
bobbing shapes
round and round

march 31, 2007

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~february, 2oo7~


Will you please hold my hand?
Will you please hold my heart?

I don't need fancy words.
Nor theological rhetoric.

I simply need to know
I matter.

february, 2007

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Lolly Pop
(add a verse)

february, 2007

Adult Forum: ... sc&start=0

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Imprisoned Memories

What is the opposite of love

What is the opposite of love

Is not the void a blanket
Silencing the pain
Silencing the dungeon
Where lie imprisoned memories

crying to be heard
crying for freedom
crying for burial

Unfetter these dungeon doors!
Throw off this blanket of reticence!
Allow the voices!

some to be heard
some to emancipation
some to gravedom
yet not without honor.

What is the opposite of love

february, 2007 ... highlight=

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Risen Corpses

Why God?
Why am I catapulted
back in time
now to feel the pain
of events long past?

I feel alone
like a child
or a sow wallowing in her mire.

no one to grieve with me

What am I to learn
from this dagger
digging, twisting
in my heart and gut?

I accept that You
exhumed these graves forgotten?

I wish the pain were not so deep.

I pray the grave where laid
these risen corpses
is not a bottomless pit.

february, 2007 ... highlight=

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Everyone originates from the womb.

Everyone is birthed.

Everyone grows.

Return to feed the soil
to start again
the womb.

Through it all
everyone needs true family.

february, 2007 ... highlight=

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A Whisper

I tremble, a leaf at autumn tide
before its final rustle on the tree.
What I have clung to for so long
is it possible I am wrong?

What can I trust?
Dare I ask, whom?

Soul, be still.
Quiet, calm the roar.

Spirit within
Spirit without
You have hearkened my cries before.
Amidst this tumult, what can I grasp?

transcendence in my soul
identity imprinted upon my every cell

Among the voices without
Among the voices within

A whisper

february, 2007 ... highlight=

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Interview Clip

I beheld your eyes today.
Twas but a reproduction.
Yet, your eyes.

I beheld your hands today.
Twas but a reproduction.
Yet, your hands.

Memories resurrected.
Twenty fives years since gone.
Eyes once penetrated my soul.
Hands once caressed my flesh.

My heart breaks all over again.

beholding your eyes
caressing your flesh
embracing souls
one more time, again.

My heart breaks all over again.
Bittersweet resurrection.

february, 2007 ... highlight=

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Let Me Try Pissed

Let me try pissed.

Decades pass.
You appear.
Exhume the graves.
Spill the truth.
Souls naked.


Casket closes.
Your plot gets tidy.
Nice tomb stone.
Manicured grass.

Fucking hurricane poured rain into my exposed grave.
No nice tomb stone.
No manicured plot.
Not even a casket.
Just a load of fucking mud and a 6-foot empty hole.

Yeah, I prayed for exposure.
But damn you to leave me here alone.
Take your fuckin' absolutes
and shove 'em up your ass.

february, 2007

Blind Pig Forum: ... highlight=

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This Day

So many thoughts in a morning
Tasks to accomplish this day
Angry thoughts from the day before
Damnable bills to pay

Aye, I've been here before.
My thoughts cry to You:

Allow my heart to not become hardened
Knead the sinews, pliable again
Gratitude arise, allowing flow
Energy light, soul aglow

Most important this day?
Extend a loving hand
Caress softly
Envelop another
Spread Your goodness across Your land

february, 2007

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Bitterness within
Fiery rage
Desire for revenge
Jealousy for nonchalance

Foreign to me
deep bitterness, rage,
revenge, jealousy.
I know not how to tame these beasts.

Why God?
Seize them from me!

Let me straddle a silver maned unicorn
with wings outstretched
galloping upon the wind
to an enchanted land where these beasts do not be.

My head, it burns.
My lungs, on fire.
Fumes within every sinew of my fiber.
Any moment, ignition.

Tears pour forth
imploring You to take this cup.
I do not understand.
Why does it hurt so deeply?!?

I shake my fists at You.
What is it You want from me?
Why does it burn so deeply?


February 26, 2007 ... highlight=

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Purge Me

If I write and write and write
Pour my soul upon the page
Will it per chance nullify the rage?
Do I fear to embrace?
Boiling lava in my soul.

Lava rises.
Spills o'er the mountain crest,
Destroys all life in its path.
Spews fury into the air.
Heavy gases of poison.

Gases dissipate
Lava cools
Feeds the soil
Mineral rich
New life birthed
A process
A purge

If I ride this river of rage
choose to not suppress
nor spew on those surrounding me.
Allow the river flow,
spill o'er the crest of my soul
its path upon the page,
dissipate then cool...

Will new life be birthed?

purge me

February 26, 2007 ... highlight=

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Time Management

....tick tock tick tock....
Who invented this damnable clock?!?

....tick tock tick tock....
Hatchet in hand, bash - Smash - CHOP!!!


Ahhhhh; that's better.

Time Management


february, 2007 ... highlight=

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Death - obvious
Not easy

Separation - complex
Not easy

Without openness - difficult

open - close
open - close

The cycle ends with closure.
Closure ends with sure.
Life is scant in sureties.

open - close
open - close


1st draft
February 28, 2007 ... highlight=

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~january, 2oo7~


Why are you hiding friend?
Why do you not respond?
Why do we humans hide?

Why not open ourselves
while we draw breath
to listen beyond and beneath words
to hear our hearts beat
to share the rhythm of our souls?

I yearn for a day
when we love one another
in spite of disagreements
in spite of misconceptions.

When with open face and open hearts
we can stand in one another's presence
unguarded, naked
without reservation.

When we see with enlightened hearts
what it is that lies deep within
compelling each of us to act as we do.

....Yes, I am a dreamer....

Hopefully the dreams have substance
and one day perhaps
we will be connected with a resonance
that extends beyond words
a magic that too often exists
only in our dreams.

I pray I never lose that dream
never quit believing
in the heart of another
my sister, my brother
wherein perhaps is planted
an eternity divine.

january, 2007 ... highlight=

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I need not hurry
to the next task.

Sit, wait
Ponder, ask

Heart, "How do you fare
in this moment?'

Cobwebs of the mind
be blown away by the Spirit wind!

Impress upon me
Imprint upon my heart
How great and intricate Thou art.

january 2007 ... highlight=

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Inside the Cabinet Dark

Have I become
a cold fact
upon your history shelf?

The sweetness once shared
now a stale morsel.
The love in the morning dew
now a dried blade of grass.

Am I simply another event
with no special place
in the locket of your heart?

Close the windows.
Draw the curtains.
Bar the doors.

Place me in the dark cabinet
among the retired collection
and simply close the cabinet door.



january 2007 ... highlight=

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Vitruvian Self Exposed

I stand
DaVinci's Vitruvian
Open palms
Arms outstretched.

The gods that be
Peel back my flesh
Expose my heart
Excavate my soul
Any hidden piece
Be it friend or foe.

The agony price?
I'm willing to pay.
Entrapped inside my Self?
No more!
Embrace the pain
And freedom craved.
Self, be free

january 2007 ... highlight=

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Feel Me

Turn off this static
that fills my mind.

Flee to the woods
this soul of mine.

Arms outstretched.
Face to the sun.

Fill my senses with wonderment!
Fill my lungs with life!
Fill my heart with freedom!

let me taste the prism hues
let me dance upon the rainbow
let me touch the sky

Fill me!
Feel me....

Let me know I am

january 2007 ... highlight=

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I feel entrapped
Wearied I am
Yet nothing I've done to be weary

Snap these invisible bonds!
Catapult self-righteous demands
to the farthest breadth.

I desire

But all I hear are these jumbling torrents
Venomous words run through my head
I cry to no avail
Emotional masochist that I am

This insanity within...
Do others know it too?

Let me run naked through the woods
Live among the wild beasts
O survival!!!
To live by instinct

I am too cush in my middle-class life
Bound by society's standards

Does it not make brute beasts of us all?

january 2007 ... highlight=

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Dare I enter?
Do I dare?

I tiptoe face forward
backward in time
to take a peek,
or a full view.


I stroll
into my past.
Labor to touch

A peek?
A full view,
yet only a part
of what I lost:

May I touch you?
Gentle I will be.
What I once knew?
Will you teach me?

May I embrace you?
Will you embrace me?
May I carry you
Forward with me?


I turn, I walk
into the now.
Abandon not
this presence of innocence,
the why
the how.

Dare I enter?
Do I dare?

january, 2007

Feel the fear and do it anyway. ... highlight=

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Mesmerizing sunset
Prism hues paint the sky
yellows, pinks, purples
Yet without sight
No mesmerizing.

Entrancing song
Melodious tunes fill the air
flutes, strings, rhythm beats
Yet without hearing
No entrancement.

Inviting jasmine
Fragrance impregnates the meadow
sensual, rustic, calming
Yet without smell
No invitation.

Enticing chocolate
Sweet morsels enliven the tongue
rich, amorous, satisfying
Yet without taste
No enticement.

Alluring physique
Tender touch electrifies fingertips
firm, supple, warm
Yet without touch
No allurement.

Enlightening spirit
Quickening every cell
life, death, resurrection
Yet without faith
No enlightenment.

january, 2007

Inspired by Watchman Nee ... highlight=

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Last edited by nekot on Sun Dec 06, 2009 9:45 pm, edited 2 times in total.
~eloquently scattered~
nekot's tokens


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Re: Nekot's Tokens

Post by nekot » Sun Mar 22, 2009 9:49 pm

Emergence: 2004 - 2006

Of Leaves, Squirrels, Dogs, and Dances

Gazing out my kitchen window.
Change of seasons landed.
Nature again makes her mark.
She didn't ask my permission.
She didn't scatter her leaves orderly.
She allowed them to fall where they may.
With great purpose she allowed it.

The squirrel.
All that matters to him is the next nut...
the next squirrel to chase around the tree.

The dog.
All that matters to her is
the next two-legged creature that comes along
to caress and talk with her...
the next meal...
the next intruder.

The animals do not worry or engage in much ado.
Aye...I do think the animals
in many ways are wiser than man.

What is their secret?
Simplicity and instinct.

Oh humankind
Why have we allowed so much complexity, strife, unease?
Where have our instincts gone?
Who stole them?
Why did we allow it?

Perhaps if we jump off the "Jones" wheel
perhaps if we smile and touch again
perhaps if we quiet ourselves long enough to observe the animals,
even in the cities

Perhaps we can again arrive at simplicity
arrive at instinct
arise each day with thankfulness in our hearts
a skip in our step.

Perhaps then life in all its richness
and oneness can be enjoyed
And we can bask in all the goodness
with which we are surrounded.

Will you join me?
Here...take my hand;
Dance with me.
Show me your steps;
I'll show you mine.
Together we can make our lives, our families, our world
A little better place.

december, 2004 ... highlight=

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Prose one of three: June 2005

Prose one of three: June 2005

My heart, so heavy.
My heart, so empty.
My well of love, dry.

I look inside.
I look to God.
I look
but my heart remains hollow.

Where has my passion gone?
Where has my life been thrown?
Where can I find the way?

Father, daily within my heart I cry .
Daily I want to run away.
Daily I feel a desperation.

I know not where to turn.
I know not how to find answers.
My tears fall continually inside.

Will You hold my hand?
Will You manifest what I am to do?
Will You make it clear?

I ask timidly,
with doubt of my every move.

My heart, so very heavy.
My heart, so very sad.
My heart, so very empty.

My soul, flooded with tears...

june, 2005 ... highlight=

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Prose two of three: December 2005

My heart cried out to the forces that be.
"Where are you?
Can you hear me?
Do you exist?
Dare I believe?"

My heart craved yearning to find its place.
In this great big world among the human race.

"Where do I fit?
Where do I belong?
So many choices...
What if I'm wrong?"

I tried to fit
So many places
Among different groups
Diverse faces.

Times of elation, times of doubt
Times of exuberance, times of remorse.
"Where do I turn, where do I stake?
Upon what course?"

For awhile I settled for mediocrity,
But my soul suffered emptily.
I searched, pondered through many books
Philosophies, answers
in so many nooks.

Then I came back full circle
to Christ and my Father's Words.
I found myself humbled, small again.
Was I the wiser for wandering?
Aye? Nay?
Of the answer I am uncertain.

december, 2005 ... highlight=

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Prose three of three: February 2006

He lived His life an obedient one.
He loved and foresaw what was to come.
It was this love, this vision, this purpose
that spurred Him to do.
His life was the sacrifice for me, for you.

What am I to do, one so weak, so small?
How do I respond to this magnificent call?
He simply says
"Come. Rest. Relish.
In the work I have done."

"Take it. Accept it. I did it for You.
Embrace it. Hold it. For it is all true.
Take it to heart. Hide it within.
This is the reason I gave my all.
For you my child, my friend."

"Once you embrace it, please step aside.
Allow me entree to work within.
As you cast all your care upon me...
all the guilt....
all the shame.....
all the sickness...
all the pain...
I shall bequeath you, freedom crowned
within my love immeasurable."

"Step aside. Allow me access.
Trust I know what is best.
Then take the step...
of me working within."

"I will guide, transform your heart.
But my child, you first must start.
By simply accepting all I have done.
To make you righteous as God's daughter, God's son."

february, 2006 ... highlight=

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If we ever meet
along our journeys here
I will embrace you and behold your eyes
your heartbeat I'll take time to hear.

Tenderly I'll take your hand
together we will run,
and share with one another
treasures of the sun....

The woods, the hills
the ripple of the creek
wild ponies, rocks and dunes
dancing in the street....

Welcome breeze upon our faces
songs of birds and ocean waves
the majesty and beauty
of life in all its grace.

Though we have yet to meet
eye to eye and face to face
in my heart, an honored seat
for you my friend, awaits.

april 2006
edit january, 2008 ... highlight=

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Meadow Dance

What be these intruders menacing my life?
What is it that tries to steal my joy?
Why does my heart fill empty and sore?
Where is the fullness I knew?

Oh God!
I feel deserted, alone
My heart feells cold, a knife's blade in winter
My mind encased, steel bars of selfish pride
Wrestle I do with these torments inside

Shall I beat them? Kill them?
Let them prove which is right?
Perhaps I should view them from a distance aside?
Perhaps they should struggle until they all die?

What are their names
These damnable gates
Pride and resentment, anger and hate
Loneliness, selfishness, pity and fate

I put them all in a hard dirt corral
"Battle it out," I say with contempt
I sit and I watch with a scowl on my heart
But then, my eye's corner is caught with a start

I look to my right
What do I see
Lush meadow, gentle breezes
Beckoning me

In the meadow dancing lightly and free
Love, peace, gratitude, joy, ecstasy
But the scowl in my heart turns my eyes to the corral
"You don't deserve the meadow," whispers a growl

Then a fragrance so sweet arouses my senses
Warm gentle breeze relaxes my tenseness
My gaze is shifted, the meadow now filled
With flowers, butterflies, soil fresh tilled

Corral or meadow?
Which do I choose?
I breathe
I tiptoe
Barefoot, no shoes

I enter the meadow
Warm and inviting
Grass like down, flowers enticing
Fresh soil tilled, cool to my feet.

The noise of the fight begins to grow faint
I breathe in the fragrance
The scowl starts to shrink
It withers and melts with this meadow's fresh drink

Will I dance in this meadow with love, peace, and joy
Gratitude, ecstasy, butterflies, soft soil?
Surely I shall!
It's life to my feet!
Arms open wide with his holy beat!

Will you come join me
In this meadow so sweet?
Will you come join me
Dance with me please?

june 2006 ... highlight=

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in honor of Alex

I know you cannot hear me
for your heartbeat stopped long ago.
I chose to stop your heartbeat,
I chose to stop your growth.
I never allowed you
to know the breezes of the fields
to see the beauty of the sun or snow.
In my ignorance I chose these things.
Were they right or wrong?
Honestly, I do not know.

Yet my pain runs deep today.
~my heart, it hurts~
~my tears, pour forth~
~this grief, it is for you~
In it I honor the life you once were,
the individual you may have been.

I can see you in my heart's eye:
an infant with dark hair,
deep brown eyes,
soft, smooth olive skin.
And if you were here now my love
I would hold you at my heart,
I would stroke your raven locks,
I would gently kiss your forehead,
I would cradle you at my breast,
I would nourish you, love you,
your essence I'd caress.

Oh, God!
Please honor the grief I feel!

Thank you for forgiveness,
thank you that wounds do heal.
Thank you for life you have blessed me with,
in spite of my erring ways.
Thank you as I offer this grief
as a sacrifice of praise.

And now I set within this sacred place
amidst nature's beauty, freedom, grace
among the rocks
the sun
the snow
the ponies that run wild...

The memory and life
of this
my unborn child.


Since this writing, I named him Alex. ... 18&t=51225

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Shattered Pieces

I found myself startled
and stunned
as I awoke to the reality
of what lie surrounding me.
Shattered pieces of what I had arrogantly fabricated,
I thought were authentic and inerrantly stated.
With passing time and heart-wrenching agony
I endeavored to grasp the sobering verity,
this shattered vase, each fragment noteworthy.

I asked my soul,
Where do I start
to pick up the pieces?

The answer came,
One at a time.
Some trash; others, keep 'em.

Deliberately with focus, I timidly began:
God please guide my soul and my trembling grip,
allow me with courage to honor each scabrous slip.
Thank you for showing me all is not lost
that the next vase we sculpt is at a great cost,
that your fire will purify each pattern anew
a vessel wrought tenderly
recovering me, embracing you.

august, 2006 ... highlight=

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Of Paths and Surrender

God looks upon you with favor today.
He rejoices you are His child.
He tenderly reaches out
And clears a path for you.

You observe from a distance and ponder,
"Can I trust the path?
What if danger lurks?
What if it isn't what I expect?"

All the while God patiently awaits.
And you wait...
And you ponder...
And time ticks by.

Later you revisit the path.
It is barely visible for weeds have overgrown.
You turn and walk the other way...
Still pondering
And time ticks by.

You again revisit the once clear path.
Yet now the landscape has changed.
There is no path.
Where once lay the path
Now, a city.

You drop your head
For it is too late.
Your heart sinks
With regret and despair.

But with God all things are possible.

He looks upon you with favor.
He rejoices you are His child.
He tenderly reaches out
And clears a path for you.

You observe from a distance and ponder.
You approach for a closer view.
Your heart is quickened with a spark of hope,
"Maybe, just maybe....."
As you take the first step.

This time I will trust.
Even if there is danger.
Even if it isn't what I expect.

He looks upon me with favor.
He joys over me with singing.
He tenderly reaches out.
I will grasp His hand
And surrender to Him.

In thee O Lord will I put my trust.

november, 2006

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Awakening: 1999 - 2003

Ode to Email

Twas a middle-aged lady who lived in a house.
Her functions were many; she wasn't a souse.
She was secretary, cook, cab driver too,
activities planner, home maintenance guru.
Doctor, nurse, janitorial clerk,
counselor, teacher, overseer of work.
Just a few of the functions for which she stayed perk.

Then to add to her list, the computer pimple!
Pop ups and adds for wrinkles and dimples!
Upgrade! Upgrade! It makes your life simple!
But beware of viruses; you need that program too!
And identity theft; so your name is who?
Got too much spam? Pay more and it's through!

First there was junk mail to take up her time
and now more info to boggle the mind.
This middle-aged woman stepped back and breathed deep,
"It's time to make simple this communication heap."

She decided, yes, her email to keep
but now only checks it every two weeks.
So if her attention you immediately need
please call her by phone to get sooner heed.

1999 ... highlight=

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God's Healing Cover

My life was stormy,
yet I knew God's will was healing, wholeness, and vitality.
At times this was evident to my soul,
yet at times this vision was blurry.
In spite of my doubt God's hands upheld me;
His Word was my soothing guide.
With open face I would pour forth my soul;
any darkness I tried not to hide.

I would think of the man whom for forty years
believed until his wholeness was filled.
Or the woman who had the issue of blood
who didn't give up and her body was healed.
I would bring to mind the price Christ paid
to drive away my emotions of doubt.

I would go to the man on earth
whom I love above any other.
He would hold me, caress me, tenderly soothe
remind my of God's healing cover.

At times I would think,
"Well if I should die I will still proclaim
God's will is wholeness
I will hold my mind
Attribute no folly to His name."

I'm thankful for the healing I have received
I know I have a ways to go.
I trust I'll continue to believe
Knowing that is a key to receive
And reach out to others to inspire the same.

march, 2001

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Restless Sea

Sometimes my soul, a restless sea.
Thoughts bombard, torrential rain.
Emotions struggle, waves collide.
Internal storm, unseen on the external plane.

Within me I search for a haven of calm;
The place equipped with the compass,
The gauge disentangled with the storm,
Revealing the truth, the facts;
The instrument that guides my way.

I find it....the gauge to guide.
I rivet my focus upon it.
What are the facts?
What is the truth clearly stated?
What direction do I take to safety?

I collect the data and plot a course
To steer me safely through the storm.
I traverse the winds and torrential rain
By reading the truth upon the gauge.

My emotions do not guide me,
Nor the bombarding thoughts like rain.
Focused on the gauge I find my way.
Soon safety and calm replace the pain.

I log that success, the steps that were taken
To traverse the wind and the rain.
I will remember and not forget
The truth..the gauge..the course...the steps
To guide me to safety again.

september 2001 ... 745#373745

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Suppressformity: 1982 - 1998

Our Dwelling Place

Simply think of all God's goodness
All He has bestowed on you and me
To be alive in this day and time
To be a vital part of His great family.

A family so diversified
Yet in Him united as one
We cannot lose as we stand fast
In the love of Christ His son.

As I look at you, as I look at me,
I need only look upon that which God sees.
Sure I may miss the mark and so may you
But we have a choice of where to dwell.

We can dwell on the times the mark has been missed
We can dwell with our thoughts only inward
Or we can dwell on our seated position in Christ
With our thoughts focused in God's Word.

God has fully equipped us
To be to the praise of His glory
He has bestowed us with eternal life
With a home no earthly carpenter can build.

As we think of all God's goodness
There is no room to dwell
On the times the mark has been missed
Or the times we thought we failed.

july, 1987

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Turn on the Light

At times in life we may go astray
We may forget God's works, try another way
That perhaps looks good; yet we know it's not best.
Why waste God's time on anything less?

Jehosophat learned as he stood with His God.
Yes he veered the wrong way, but have not we all?
Yet he heeded God's heart and came back the the right.
We all have the same choice; choose we the dark or the light?

In the dark we can't see clearly, yet we can still see
But the path is obscured by the absence of light.
Without light on the path we may stumble or bruise
Yet there's a light within reach; which way will we choose?

Let us gird up our loins, cinch in our belts,
Take a deep breath of God's Word, stand for the truth.
Let us choose the Word's way, shine God's light on our path.

Let us run with the household choosing the best.
Let us make our allegiance to God's Word, nothing less.
Then we will see clearly and we will choose right.
Let us not choose the darkness; let us turn on the light.


Back to Index :arrow:


In Loving Memory: 1922- 1996

He was patient and kind, a man of his own;
who loved life to the fullest regardless of
what life sometimes dealt to him.

He loved the outdoors:
a hunter, a skier, a sailor, a golfer.
He enjoyed people
sharing his life the best he knew.
His will to live was strong.

Despite overwhelming odds he continued to strive to be his best.
We will miss him:
his smile, his laugh , his positive outlook on life, his quit wit.

Yet we well remember the joy he brought,
his example of patience and gratitude.
We will ever be thankful for the inspiration
he gave to continue to live life to the fullest;
to never give up.

february, 1996

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Eureka: 1978 - 1981

The Light of Life

Amidst darkness in my soul,
Light arises.
As the morning sun peeks over the horizon,
Thus God's light patiently and surely saturates my every cell.

Dwelling on darkness does not cast out darkness.
Ahijah the prophet he was blind,
yet he looked not upon his eyes.
He looked to God, the God of Truth.
For in Him only is the Light of Life.

Why sit I here until I die,
Waiting for time to heal my wounds?
Time doesn't heal..
Love holds the power that heals the heart,
the valleys of need,
the dark ravines
where no man wants to dwell.

I need not dwell there!
I need not wait for time to heal my wounds.
Love holds the balm to soothe the pain.
Light holds the answers that go beyond time,
that go beyond knowledge,
that go beyond anything man can devise.

Christ is Light and in Him is Life.
He is the Healer of broken dreams
To help mold them into realities.

Allow Christ the joy to show you your dream.
Allow Him to do that He adores...
To open His healing heart to you;
T open His Light so you too may see
The Light of Life
for you and for me.


Back to Index :arrow:


The Willing Heart

My entire soul vibrates with the Life of Christ within.
all encompassing
with every vibrant hue.

Like a precious Gem sparkling and glowing with Light's reflection,
I am the reflection of the Giver of Light,
the Giver of Life,
the Giver of Love.
Within every cell of my Being He fills.
Within every cell He is eager to teach me;
ever ready and waiting
for my Heart to be willing.

To Him the willing Heart is without price.
For within that Heart He is able to give
and from that Heart receive.
By His love He gave freedom of will
and the liberty to choose.
He doesn't force or coerce.
He encourages with a tender Embrace;
coaxes with a loving Hand.
He entreats patiently awaiting my decision.

What great joy must fill the Father's Heart
when mankind believes by the free choosing of his will.
What Love beyond lies within Him,
and thus within me.
I simply need to choose to believe.
For within me is the precious Gem
sparkling and glowing
with the Giver of Light's Reflection.


Back to Index :arrow:


Never Doubt

Sometimes our walk in life may not display our whole love for God.
But don't be quick to judge another; even greater not yourself.
Remember that God looks upon the heart; He understands our every doubt.
Yet, He is confident in us! Yes; you and me
Regardless of our old-man doubts.

God doesn't doubt;
He believes in us.
He has entrusted us with His most precious gem;
That is His Love, His Son, His Word,
His very Heart
So that we might hide Him in our hearts
And hold Him in our minds,
So that we might see ourselves as He sees us
with hearts as pure as His.

God so loved that He gave while we yet lived in sin.
Well has God quit giving now?!?
We need but reach deep within
And with all we've got reach out
Bury our hearts in His, entrust Him with our all.

God is our Strength, our Enablement.
He believes in you and me.
So don't be quick to judge another
And even greater not yourself.
But at times when this happens
Remember God and lean to nothing else.

Back to Index :arrow:


My Life is a Gift

How thankful I am for men who have stood
through trial, through doubt, through temptation and spite.
For because of these men I can stand here today
tnd declare the glory of my God.
Without these men I would not know that
my life is a gift to the Body of Christ.

I've been called and enabled to carry forth His Word
A task far greater than man can comprise,
A task so great that only God can provide
the energy and strength to carry on.
I shall stand 'til my death or the Return of my Lord.
My heart is committed to do that which is takes
to see God's Word over the world.

My life is a gift to the Body of Christ.
Because of men before me I know that I can.
I'm Corps. I'm called forever to stand.
My life is a gift to the Body of Christ.

What shall I say when tempted to doubt?
For with God I stand!
He has clothed me with His Righteousness;
with that I have the right to speak boldly.

To Him I give the whole burnt offering,
the living sacrifice.
My Lord, here I am.
My life is a gift to the Body of Christ.
I'm called. I'm Corps, forever to stand!
My life is a gift to the Body of Christ.

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~eloquently scattered~
nekot's tokens


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