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December 2018 M T W T F S S « Sep 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
Date: 02/01/99 11:13:15 GMT
It was seen that below the windows of the soul
There was a milk white expanse
So pure that its invite soared above all ideals
Nothing could deter the vision of purity
Where evasive stresses played in chorus
With the presence of other beings
Only to be ignored then sent to the windows of the soul
Here the presence descended into the depths
As if held lightly in the folds of a velvet gown
Sinking through mirth laden love which bubbled up
Seeking an exit assisted with the company of freedom
Given with a free spirit egged on to yield, an age of time passed
By holding each bubble with joy as it reaches for the surface
Loved and enjoyed with abandon in anticipation of the bursting
Where the universe is held within a velvet dome
Where all times and things are forever
Deep beneath there stirred a soul expanding outward
Its very being slowly rising as if imitating the opening of a rose
That was held as a bud for its beauty to long
Escape it cries with utter joy, as it opens its mind to see
Just a few lines for you to see that which is written
For a person some time ago
If you can visualise someone who wants to scream out for joy,
But will not as their culture doesn’t permit such an outburst,
Then to have a companion spirit felt which is welcome
And needs some of the screaming, well that’s how it seems
Hope it makes some sense in that direction,
I don’t usually explain but it will make a change
This whole beautiful journey as I will call it, although as it unfolds
You will see the stresses it can bring also, started as the last seconds
of the old year passed and the first contact with Sunny was started
Sounds a little like an Alien contact, but when you actually speak to
someone for the first time you feel all the misapprehensions that
would be similar to a first date, and even to go as far as an Alien
There are many strange rooms on the net all with their own function
and as I was into poetry and general writing I was looking for an outlet
for some of my work, and would spend many late night hours just talking
to people all over the world.
My favourite place was the Instant Cafe, this is a lovely place, where
lots of poets and writers go to be with someone.
Sometimes to get away to a place where they can be outside of the
stresses of their own lives or pick up help in problems big and small,
on any subject. Anyway it’s a lovely room with lots of lovely people
there and I spent lots of time with them.
The main problem was that it was late into the night before lots of
them arrived as the Cafe is in America.
The strange thing is I cant even remember if I was there, or in a room,
or where I was at the time, it seemed after a while to pale into
insignificance, there was this profile of someone.
Profile and First talk
The Profile was of someone Called SunxTwo.
Member Name: – Sunny, Sunni, Sun, Or Just Hey You
Location: -North Wales
Birth date: – 27 Oct
Sex: – Female
Marital Status: -Married
Hobbies: -Poetry, Writing, Swimming, Running, Living, Heights
Computers: – A Frustrating Grey One
Occupation: -Nurse, Trainee Counsellor
I thought she sounded interesting, so I called up the IM screen for
SunxTwo and as is my fault in life, that I just love to speak to
the ladies of the species, I began to speak to her.
Birthday girl of muddled ways
Ever inside wanting to truthfully see
Antisipating and always seeking a new way
Underestimating her own worth each day
Remembering most of the bad things
Ever losing sight of her own reality
Graced by a mind that is sharp and pure
Always giving way not being sure
Remember as you walk the next age
Dear Beauregard unique in many ways
I remember my first grade picture day dress. I remember how I didn’t like navy blue on me
and how the white Peter Pan collar was too stiff and too tight around my neck.
I felt like I was too big and my dress was too small.
Its pretty little bows couldn’t make a pretty little girl out of me.
I remember being self-conscious of the scars that freckled my face thanks to last year’s chicken pox.
I remember being nervous waiting in line to have my picture taken,
because I knew I would look terrible. I remember wondering why I couldn’t smile
right for the photographer and the way my thick red hair wouldn’t lay right.
But most of all, I remember being six years old and already hating myself.
From my trip to Disney World in second grade, to puberty in fifth grade,
from seventh grade’s rock bottom to tenth grade’s rock bottom,
self-loathing was the ever-present demon looming in the back of my mind.
So I guess you could consider this the story of an exorcism-in-progress.
It was some time last year that I realized, as a poet and lover of words,
that connotations of words didn’t have to dictate my life.
What could I mean by that?
Let’s consider, for instance, insults; words like “fat” and “ugly”
are connotatively equated to words like “worthless”, “disgusting”, and “unloveable”.
I realized that I didn’t have to equate “fat” or “ugly” with negative words.
I could equate them with whatever words I found befitting. I could make “fat” and “ugly”
personal compliments, after all, I am fat and ugly, and I’m pretty damn awesome.
Why should I consider myself pretty damn awesome despite being fat and ugly?
Fat and ugly were two things I had identified with for the past 19 years,
so why not consider myself pretty damn awesome
because fat and ugly are pretty damn awesome things to be?
That was steps one through two of
What To Do When You’re Ugly,
step one being “realize that you are, indeed, ugly” and
step two being “realize that ugly is not the worst thing you could be”.
From there, I was regularly flooded with memories and insights about my past.
I remember that as a child, my long, straight, shiny, thick red hair
was the only feature of mine that ever gave others a reason to complement me.
When adults looked at me they exclaimed, “Oh! What pretty red hair!”
and that was the end of their interaction with me.
I realized that that lead me to resent my hair even more than I already did.
I hated waking up each morning, unable to brush the knots out of my hair.
The ritual that followed involved my daddy desperately attempted to gingerly brush his baby girl’s hair
as she stood before him, cringing in her pajamas clutching Pooh Bear against her heart.
If we fast forward several years, to middle school,
I convince my mama to let me cut fourteen inches of long, beautiful red hair
to donate to Locks of Love.
I still have enough hair for a nearly-shoulder-length bob and
I am finally free of the complement-worthy physical feature that I never felt like I deserved.
That is in eighth grade, Kelsey age 13.
Six years later and my hair has only gotten shorter,
to the point where I currently buzz three-fourths of my hair to three-eighths of an inch long,
every other week.
My hair no longer causes me grief, anxiety, or poor self-esteem
and that may be due to the fact that there is very little of it at all!
Nonetheless, my experiences with my hair led me to step three:
make yourself happy. I am a firm believer that happiness comes from within.
Our minds are an amazing, irreplicable machines of actions and reactions.
We can often choose how we act and react, which will dictate our happiness.
When I began to believe that my happiness was something I had to choose for myself,
I started noticing all the little things that made me happy.
Alternatively, I also noticed all the little things that made me quickly reactive and upset.
Therefore, whenever possible, I surrounded myself with the things that made me happy
and avoided the things that upset me.
It’s an imperfect endeavor to maintain and impossible to perfect, but I always try.
One of the biggest things that makes me happy is expression,
which is a umbrella term for many things I enjoy.
My self-expression ranges from how I cut and style my hair
and the clothes I wear to my artwork and even my mannerisms.
I remember feeling like I hit rock bottom in seventh grade.
I was exposed to emo music and the gothic subculture.
I was infatuated, enthralled by the horror and fantasy influences of it all.
But most importantly, I could wear black, baggy clothes
to hide my disgusting body and smudgy black makeup to hide my disgusting face.
I reached rock bottom that year because my life revolved around that hiding.
My only emotions were disgust and shame, geared toward myself, and resentment,
geared toward my mother who did not want her daughter to be bullied for being a freak.
I climbed up from rock bottom when I discovered poetry as a form of expression.
It was ninth grade and I had found something that made me happy,
an emotion I hadn’t felt in years.
One year later I hit rock bottom again when self-loathing, anxiety, and depression
got the better of me and no form of self-expression was worth the effort.
Since then, I’m finding new forms of self-expression all the time.
I know that if I start to spiral downward again, I have the means to climb back up.
I know that I’ve lived through twenty years of hate, all from myself, and I’m still here.
I have the resources and the determination to keep living, and that step four: Keep living.
Hello special you.
needs of us.
I’ve no need to say hello .
you have been here all the time.
I’ve no need to say goodbye .
we will always be .
I need to ask you, how you are.
I need to hold you.
to make you feel held.
I need you to know.
that I am with you.
I need me.
you need me.
you need you.
I need you.
I, lots of things you.
I have been, resting my mind ,.
putting an order in my world,.
thinking with you,.
being the best mum I can be,.
living and seeing for me..
I am a wife and lover.
the one I want to be.
I am in control of me.
I needed to clear a space .
to see me in a world.
of love, hate, need and want.
Now I see me.
much stronger than ever before.
Tony, I am here and there for you.
not for whatever you need.
but for what I need to give you.
It would be sily of me to think.
that I could be whatever you need.
I feel you need much more than I can give.
Tony, you need yourself.
you are all that you need.
you are an amazing and wonderful.
special, feeling person.
I have been touched so gently.
and firmly by you.
you touched my soul.
no not just touched, .
I ache with thoughts of you.
thoughts of wanting.
for lots of things for you.
Tony, be held and loved for who you are.
gentle and kind.
untangle my mind.
fresh and new.
clear as morning dew.
precious as gold.
warm never cold.
making love show.
words they do flow.
the ear that I need.
when I hurt and bleed.
with me in pain.
my dark and my rain.
a breath of fresh air.
you take my despair.
the very best friend.
my life you help mend.
knowing and true.
when words are so few.
giving and calm.
may you not come to harm.
the love that we share.
always to be there. .
I love all that you are .
Your Lily Sunni.
Hold your Spirit to the light.
If they are the same,
You can do no more.
Love yourself always.
There is an emptiness
It clings to me
In the distance
I see a light
I shall walk toward the light
The only shadow
Will be behind me
I rejoice, and start to run.
The light recedes at my speed
I shall now journey on
Always reaching out
Away from the shadows
This is reality of being
There in another now
I will catch the light
It will be ours again.
The outward laugh was a fading motion only used during the times of being together.
Always away from crowded places
Becoming of little use, can you imagine the sound being of any use when the inner laugh was so colourful?
Consisting of a pattern of all who joined in, and a kaleidoscope of colour from the combined imagination.
Patterns laid on patterns, light made from abandoned inhibitions usually focused on the central spot.
But playtime was the time when the fun made laugh time a quilt spreading in many directions.
This (only after contact with another’s mind with a love that only the mind can portray)