Four Points

As a writer, it feels like an accomplishment when an evil man like Liam T. Yore is so threatened by your eloquence that he tries to have you put in jail for a poem. Yes, Liam succeeded in having a judge revoke my first amendment right to call his barbaric behavior "sexual assault." While I am still of the opinion that it was, because well, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a fucking duck.... I will change my language to confront what he did to me in different terms. Since he was my doctor at the time, I will call it patient abuse. Since he himself has blogged that mental health patients are "Just Crazy" and "are last on the list for a reason" (http://allbleedingstops.blogspot.com/2016/02/a-better-way-to-think-about-altered.html),

I am also going to call it a stigma-based bias-motivated hate crime. Furthermore, I am going to assert that I agree with the international criminal courts in referring to forced nudity as a form of torture (https://www.justsecurity.org/31325/forced-nudity-international-law-practice/), and given that ER best practices guidelines banned the practice in 2005, I am also going to call it willful ignorance and medical malpractice ( http://www.ndrn.org/images/Documents/Issues/Community_integration/NDRN_emergency_standards_all_together.pdf).

So, you win Liam. I won't call the action of forcibly removing my clothing and using my stigmatized disability as an excuse, a sexual assault. I will no longer call you a sexual predator. I will call you a bigot. Is that better? 

And now for another piece I call "Four Points". I wonder how long it will take little Liam to call the cops because he is such a coward that he can't handle a 90lb girl's poetry.

Four Points

These heavy chains were forged to contain me

blankets woven to keep me warm

walls that lock with doors to confine me

they'll call it "safety" while doing me harm

As commodities go, compassion's expensive

and people like me, we don't get to complain

expected to sink deeply into our station

they  just don't see us as real human beings

Tears fall and dry on our faces like rain-drops

but crying no longer brings any relief

they'll act like I'm making mountains of mole-hills

they're too numb inside to understand grief

Making my fears so much more real than ever

triggering memories of the abuse

once you know trauma, you'll know it forever

trying to stand up, but there's just no use

Stigma's a mountain-top I cannot summit

the other side's always where I want to be

but prejudice, it comes with my diagnosis

therapy never brought any relief

I think I struggle because the world's ugly

I have been bullied and beaten and shamed

I'm just reacting to all that I'm seeing 

calling out bigots to ruin their names

You feel the same things that I do but keep them

just under your breath so that no-one will hear

all I have done is adjusted my volume but

when I speak up they just react with fear

I'm not the person they've made me out to be

they treat us like we're all one and the same

like I should be judged on the actions of others

and categorized and dismissed as insane

Don't they realize that we're people with feelings

our bodies hurt just like everyone else

four-point restraints and disrobement by force

tortured and brutalized, libeled, defamed

When were they over-turned, our human rights

they were taken away and I wasn't aware

so now we must fight to remind cops and doctors

that reliving trauma should not be called "care." 

Nightmare Man (for Dr. Liam T. Yore)

Nightmare Man

Strong is the privilege
of your masculinity
you did what you did
and you did it to me
and from your vantage point
you have the right to disagree
about my right to have a say
in what is done to my body

and your status is above me
and you don't like the word no
I'm expected to submit
just nod my head, do what I'm told
but I just shrink inside recoiling
from the ugliness I see
in the eyes of my abuser
staring holes right into me

how dare you look upon me
like you're capable of knowing
who you perpetrate your crime against
as if all of me's showing
see there's no amount of naked
that could teach you what I know
no extent of violation that
I cannot use to grow

and I'm soaring far above you
it could be dissociation
or it could be that I know
you cannot kill my inspiration
not my passion, or my kindness,
not my child-like demeanor
yes, you're a nightmare man
but I'm a master lucid dreamer

*I dedicate this poem to Dr. Liam T. Yore, the man who when trusted with my care, instead acted with an utterly perverse type of cruelty by using sexual humiliation to intimidate me after requesting ADA compliance for a serious allergy. I was not only physically harmed by this vicious assault on my body, privacy, humanity, and legal rights under the law; I was also so traumatized I have been terrified to seek medical attention when I have needed it since, which has compromised my health in serious ways. As of yet, Providence hospital has taken no meaningful action to discipline this twisted individual, or protect other women who are vulnerable to his attacks, which he justified because I was suffering from depression over a serious medical condition. Yes, I struggle with depression and anxiety. That does not entitle any man to rip my clothing off, even if he is a doctor. What he did to me was horrifying, unethical, and a violation of the law. I am a human being, and what he did was utterly inhumane. If Providence hospital continues to employ this monster, they are sending the message that some patients do not qualify for the Hippocratic Oath because they have the wrong kind of medical condition. I was his patient, and yet, he smiled as I sobbed and begged for mercy. He is also a man who enjoys violence, makes it his hobby, and blogged about how important it is for doctors to emotionally detach to make it easier to hurt their patients. This is a very sick man, who at the very least should be suspended without pay pending psychological evaluation for his discrimination against women, as well as people with depression, and for his obvious violent tendencies and aggressive behaviors. I can say this with certainty, regardless of whether or not Dr. Yore was ever prosecuted for sexual assault, you will never convince me that being held down and having my clothes ripped off wasn't just that.

Questions

Can I find acceptance for
the things that make me ill?
Can I just imagine that
these dreams I have are real?
Can I face injustice knowing
it may never change?
Can I learn to normalize
the things that I find strange?

Will I find a place in this world
full of broken hearts?
Will I end my suffering
and make a brand new start?
Will I make the best of
opportunities I'm given?
Will those who have hurt me find
that they have been forgiven?

Is there anything that I can say
I know for certain?
Is my puppet master hiding
behind a black curtain?
Is my will my own?
Am I controlled
by my own thoughts?
Is there anything I want
to be that I am not?

I have many questions
and I'm searching for the answers.
Doubt can rise and grow inside
like some rare form of cancer.
But it's in the asking that
we find all that we need.
Thinking that we'll ever know
is a foolish thought indeed. 
 

how it goes

underneath my skin
that's where everything
begins to feel so gray
no way to know
which way to go
from here so I'll just stay
inside this time
so I might find
some peace
inside my fragile mind
and look within
till I begin
to love
what I find there
it isn't fair
their cruelty
reflects upon
my self respect
it's cold and dark
inside my heart
sometimes I wish
for death
but then my breath
brings oxygen
to every limb
and my heart beats
again and then
my blood it flows
that's how it goes
everyone knows
that's how it goes
and goes and goes

we feel sorrow
and letting go
is easier said
than it's done
now I've begun
to rise up from
the ashes
and to spread
my wings
my favorite things
these words
are strings
that tie me to
my conciousness
so I confess
I let my stress
take over
when I should have
stopped
and given though
there is a lot
that I don't know
that's how it goes
and goes and goes
that's how it goes
and goes and goes

Prison Walls

the way the light is bent just right
it's shaped just like a coffin
you can chain my hands and feet
but you can't box my thoughts in
righteous indignation is
the crime that I will plead to
and systematic failures are
the veils that I must see through

your testament is ugliness
your hatred unbecoming
you are ignorant of all
the concepts that you're shunning
I am not your little bitch
I don't have to obey you
I am grateful to be free
from that which has enslaved you

prison walls can block the sun
but not the human spirit
they can preach and screech at you
but you don't have to hear it
I may be afraid sometimes
but that is not a weakness
I'll hold colors in my mind
to fight against this bleakness

popularity is not the thing I'm here to find
I just need some time to sort
some shit out in my mind
I will find resolve in being
who I've always been
there is no sword mightier
than this here little pen

this cell has a resonance
that makes my voice feel stronger
still I don't know that I can
take being here much longer
I will make my point
and lay myself down for my cause
for justice has nothing to do
with their misguided laws

 

Everything at Once

anger left unpurified
reborn into this form of mine
trying hard to leave it all behind

there's no self just particles
of karmic debt left to unfold
trying hard to just let it all go

maybe trying is the problem
I'm too focused on resolving
matters that effort can never change

I just need to sit and breathe
and find the faith to just believe
things will turn out how they're meant to be

then anger rises up again
I wish that I could be more zen
as my pulse races beneath my skin

sometimes I wish that I could cry
but when I do I want to die
pressured to just keep it all inside

I am everything at once
I'm the universal dunce
in my corner staring at the world

the only certainty is death
but here and now I find my breath
eyes half open looking at it all

 

sleep

Sleep is the frustrated twin of death
but when you wake
you have to deal with life again
and that is hard to take
I guess that's why the mornings are
the times that I dread most
'cause being in this body has
nothing on being a ghost

when I was a child I said
a prayer before I slumbered
that god would come and take my soul
should I die while I am under
but in truth my trust in him
had already been shaken
and nightmares of his creepy hands
would force me to awaken

I will never lose myself
because in dreams I see
that all of my experience
paints my reality
and underneath my consciousness
a spectacle of lights
illuminates a syncopated
version of my life

Gratitude

I'm afraid to write about
the things I'm feeling anymore
to admit defeat is harder
than all that I've done before
my pen has been silent
not because the words won't come
I've fought them off by any means
just to avoid emotions

sometimes I get the feeling that
what I say no one hears 
and my voice isn't strong enough
to be worthy of human ears
so I watch tv and look for
anything to slow my thoughts
but no matter how I hide
the spinning wheel never stops

I dream about the kind of person
that I might have been
if only I had had support
from family and friends
but I've found that even when
I am feeling so alone
my stereo can soothe me with
words that came through microphones

I can feel so overwhelmed
from PTSD bullshit
it can be so hard for me
to let anyone else in
or change the idea  I have
that love is just too dangerous
usually it is because
I'm bad at knowing who to trust

I don't eat or sleep enough
I'm trying to feel worthy
and finally stop the bleeding from
the wounds from those who've hurt me
and I find strength in poetry
artfully set to the music
uniting body, mind and soul
as I sing and move to it

now I'm feeling gratitude
for all the pens and paper
expressing all of the attitudes
that my self can relate with
I know I can't avoid it now
so I sit down and write
for strangers who are struggling
with lonely thoughts.... awake all night

Common Ground

you don't know a thing about me
don't go 'round pretending that you do
I might want to know about you
if it weren't for your bad attitude
but I don't know a thing about you
'cause I never walked 'round in your shoes
and you don't know a thing about me
so don't go assuming that you do

just sit down and talk a while
maybe we could find
common ground and a friendly smile
I might just change your mind about me

you don't know a thing about
the places I have been or things I've seen
you don't know how I feel but
I guess that's no surprise 'cause you're not me
I couldn't begin to know what
life inside your skin consisted of
but like you I am worthy of compassion
respect, decency and love

so sit down and talk a while
maybe we could find
common ground and a friendly smile
I might just change your mind

May Come After

a poet's got to speak the truth
no matter what the cost
dropping words of wisdom
taking back the things we've lost
many of them dying young
because they bare the weight
of being driven to profess
what everyone's afraid to say

living by the word can mean
admitting when you're wrong
and digging way down deep to find
the rhythm of your song
and if you cannot trust yourself
you'd best be turning around
because lying to yourself
resonates within your sound

but don't be turning back
unless you're sure you've given up
maintain your own perspective
never let them shut you up
those who've gone before you
show you that it can be done
the supersonic power
that runs through us makes us strong

now I can't say what may come after
but here and now there's joy and laughter
the past is not a place to dwell
the future nothing but a wishing well
I'm a juju bee in the place to be
the ones I love bring out the good in me
I am exactly who I want to be
intergalactic planitary





(RIP MCA 5/4/12)

Bird Song

wild bird in captivity feels

 a certain anxiety when

all he wants is to be free

the way all birds were born to be

as he looks up to the sky he

can't help but fantasize that

maybe in his next born life

he'll have not only wings but flight

... and not feel the expectation

to subdue his aviation

his feathers in the wind

to end is to begin again

among the most amazing things

how quickly life can change

took a buckshot to the wing

and now he'll never soar again

other ravens come to him

he wishes he could leave with them

his broken heart is in distress

no lullaby can help him rest

but now the time's approaching

to leave behind his poaching

return to earth and then he

will be reborn again... repeat