Showing posts from May, 2018

In Your Honor

In a dynamic caused by overflow, we find the edge before the answer
Risking our identity for judgments, until trauma becomes the new cancer

Becoming naked in heart and mind, children not knowing of what to come
Horrible things done before them, endured only until found numb

Expecting someone to claim responsibility, a role we all must take
Knowing history does repeat itself, no matter how much we medicate

To soften and still the voices, the night has shown to fear
Overdosing to get rid of them, losing control, we try to steer

Disassociate, numb, void, disconnect - coping mechanisms, they say
Swallow, binge, cut, debt - vices with a higher cost to pay

Research turned to poison, freedom the cost of pride
Fill another prescription, natures version we must hide

Dependence the new denial, addiction a choice made
Exposure therapy shock the memories, before my life begins to fade

The truth having no profit, since meditation and prayer are free
Tolerating the discomfort, in sear…

Brush Strokes

If music matters... Maybe we would listen as intently as we do (or should be) a conversation with another person.  Rather than listening mindlessly, realize the lyrical outlet is just that.  If you love me as much as I do, what are you saying? 

Kendrick Lamar - Pray for Me
I fight the world, I fight you, I fight myself
I fight God, just tell me how many burdens left
I fight pain and hurricanes, today I wept
I'm tryna fight back tears, flood on my doorsteps
Life a livin' hell, puddles of blood in the streets
Shooters on top of the building, government aid ain't relief
Earthquake, the body drop, the ground breaks
The poor run with smoke lungs and Scarface
Who need a hero? (hero)
You need a hero, look in the mirror, there go your hero
Who on the front lines at ground zero? (hero)
My heart don't skip a beat, even when hard times bumps the needle
Mass destruction and mass corruption
The souls are sufferin' men
Clutchin' on deaf ears again, rapture is comin'


Good morning + God bless.

Morning for me, yes. 7am eastern time. Your location and time may disagree.

God for me, yes. The Messiah. Your culture and believes may disagree.

Time is not constant. Nor is faith tangible. But one thing will always remain the same, our bond as flesh and blood, human in nature, connected in soul.

I take this bond seriously. Ever since my mind was renewed. It's the price I pay, having another life to use. And I love every minute of it. This new job, my cost of living, has brought me to the most simple place of Joy, the happiest state of mind, and into the greatest love affair with myself.

Without further ado, I bring you "STAT 1". 

It’s a scary world to live in,
when you can’t control your thoughts.

You constantly search for happiness,
but the fears become your faults.

The daily urge for control,
to overcome the distortions in your head.

With the darkness come back the nightmares,
as you lay down in your bed.

From the subconscious come back t…

Proceed with caution.

Is this why “faith” can be intimidating? Because it makes us admit that life isn’t all about us? Ha!

What a selfless way to expect us to live and act by. How counter intuitive to everything we currently know and feel comfortable with. Otherwise, if we lived by faith, or simply in a way in which it wasn’t “all about us”, things would probably look a lot different.

We’d probably ask more questions, and too, seek more answers. 
And in turn we didn't, would this make us lazy or simply reveal that we really do not want (can't handle) the answers?

How is there still such vast separation between the black and white community, but racism doesn’t exist?

Why is the gap between rich and poor increasing, yet we are making America great again?

How is the lower class growing and upper class shrinking, yet the majority contribute 2/3 and the minority the rest?
How come medical marijuana, despite being from earth and all-natur…

Friends of

Let me start with this.

One time I had a really bad panic attack. The kind my therapist refers to as a "re-experience". I was brought to the E.R. because my friends couldn't figure out a way to calm me down and make me believe there weren't two men physically present holding my neck, with a gun to the back of my head. Nothing they said or did, brought me back to the room we were in.

As you read this you may be thinking, "that sounds like a scene in the movies when the soldiers home from war".

Well, I've never watched my life on film, but it may be an accurate picture.

My friends and I were out that night. Drinking as young single city girls do. And I was triggered. Triggers include sights, sounds, smells or thoughts that remind you of the traumatic event in some way. Damn, that's a lot of things for me when you put it that way.

Anyway, because the E.R. staff knew we had been out (obviously the group of white girls in nice clothes didn't give i…

In case of loss, please return to:

I wrote this in June 2015.
In case of loss, please return to:
To give some context as to why that matters, today, see timeline below.
Once read, that is, in combination of the two, you will either realize (like me) "holy, literal, "holy" shit, God is real". Or you might just see a timeline with multiple layers of irony, and hopefully, find the piece referenced above to be poetic.
But just remember, the antonym for "irony" is "logic".  "And experience is a better guide to this than deductive logic"

May 2018: Drove through my old neighborhood.

June 2015: 802 South Mole Street. Lived there. 
May 2018: I have just enough money to life.
I asked for money to help with my meter. It took 3 strangers and a food truck owner to get 4 quarters for a dollar.

June 2015: I had all the money and wasn’t alive.
I never had to pay a meter. And probably would have turned my face down to help too.

May 2018: Laid on the couch in center city with my shoe…

Wake Up Daughter

Why is our heavenly father so sad?
Do you not notice he cries showers on us day after day?

In this moment, I am fully present.
I am fully connected.
I cannot deny, that as I sit in the silence of meditation,
and hear the short-lived tears rolling down the cheeks of nature’s leaf’s,
He greets me.

Find comfort in my love, father.
I am with you.
You are not alone.

Like a friend in compassionate company,
feeling adequate enough to let the wall down.
To show their true pain.
As your daughter,
what is it you ask of me to console?

Connecting my heart to yours,
being that of nature and all that surrounds me.
What is it you have me feel for you,
as your blue skies are dense?

Confused in emotion.
All knowing, I hear you.
All knowing, I see you and I feel you.

To be consoling to all that is intangible,
what a high honor to be rewarded.

Anger in the strength of wind,
pushing and pulling trees as they try to resist.
Heaviness in the volume of rain,
pouring and drenching bodies as we try to escape.

Undeserving Diagnosis

When most people are diagnosed with a disease or disorder, they feel undeserving, as if unfairly punished.
When I was diagnosed with PTSD I felt undeserving, as if unworthy.
The only thing I knew about PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) was that it was a terrible brain injury many men and women who had come home from military deployments soon developed. Being a kid who was in high school during 9-11, I had seen plenty of this in my generation over the years. I even dated a Marine (god bless him) who dropped out of college, on baseball scholarship, joining immediately after the World Trade Center attacks happened in NYC. He served three tours, developing what I call, an addiction to battle and brotherhood. He would have re-enlisted again if they would’ve taken him but instead he ended up in and out of bars, overnight in jail cells, and awoken from sleep by nightmares of enemy attacks.
We met after his service, but I will never forget those nights. I will never forget the attempte…

Make America High Again

No, I am not referring to marijuana.

Although popular studies and research do seem to suggest this could be a potential revolution in the healthcare industry. One that would likely not favor the “system” but may help the people who make it up. And that just seems a little too altruistic of the industry if you ask me. Which may be part in why the US has stopped funding its medicinal research, but hey, that is not my topic of discussion (today).

We all know when someone says something like “get high” they are usually referring to recreational drug use like marijuana, cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, meth, etc. The illegal stimulants. The ones you don’t need a prescription to get filled but sure as hell don’t keep in the medicine cabinet. Different from the opposing class of drugs that, while too make you feel good, are offered by your doctor and covered (to some degree) by your insurance. The ones pharmaceutical companies make in labs and, while not cheap to develop, can be incredibly profitab…

Living in Satire. Dabing for Freedom.

I used to fight for people to take me seriously. Now, I look forward to surprising people into it.
My favorite thing about the way I look is that I can be easily stereotyped. And this for me makes life so entertaining. As if I am daily on my own live TV show where I am the producer, the actor, and the writer. The world is my petri dish and society is my lifelong sociology thesis project.
I used to try and fit in. Impress. Keep up. Be socially acceptable. Only speak and look within the confines of certain cultural parameters that I thought were acceptable by my family, friends, upbringing, career, social circles, values, and so forth. I never left the High School cafeteria.
Now, I constantly find myself in situations where I think (in the last minute) “crap, other people are in this world I’ve created for myself” and I have a Homer Simpson “Duh.” moment. I seriously stopped caring. Almost to the degree in which I need a Maria Filter System of checks and balances to make sure I don’…

Let's Get Uncomfortable

My favorite place to write is outside on my little balcony, coffee in mug, dog at side, sun as my company. The trees perfectly placed, leaving me feel close to nature. Hidden away from the world just feet away. Tucked away where no one notices me, yet an eyes-view from sight. 
I sat here last weekend, writing my so-called book. Compelled by thought. Inspired by wisdom beyond my own self-recognition. Overtaken by a peace that surpasses all understanding.
Two young children, maybe 6 years of age, both girls, play out in the lawn of the property. This to my delight, as it reminds me of my nieces and the lighthearted person they have helped me become. I continue to write until I become distracted by a male’s yelling voice. Normally something I have become good at blocking out after years of living in center city Philadelphia but not this time. The voice filled with profanity and intimidation. Now don’t get me wrong, I am a self-proclaimed pirate. Those who know me, know that curse words …