Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Curious control
I don't want to be this owned
born into this beast
freedom's finely written on a lease
the Mayor's loyalty concedes
to the police and DMV
the D Motherfucking V

scandal of sadness
No such Jefferson gladness
sure you can be free
if you pay a tax for your deceased

as the dream moon waxes
they'll vote for nine more taxes
refusal to comply
they'll burn the stick in your eye
and lock you angrily away
ground of convenience and more red tape
lines the silver of a hypocrite state

"probable cause"
they'll pass 90 more lame laws
while liberty runs lost
axis of Antichrist it regulates
doesn't matter how you vote or what say
just come with bribes to pay

off to the war
love is seldom and rarely sworn
harder still to learn
peace is graded on a curve

if you try to wage a fight
know that you will have the right
the right to stay silent
blindfold & ban on self-evident light

they built a land mine on it
and if you rebels in grit
try to change this hell and shit
they'll raise your sentence to twelve

2 more years the calendar runs out
no more bad money left to count
equality fades away
meanwhile the Fed's play cards with CIA
the rivers fill with toxic waste
God can see the trace
and Michael has the ace

the pot steams short and stout
drag it to the olive mount
bring down the carnal house
it just feeds on fear & doubt

All the bells have stopped ringing
but the children still are singing
Where are the Saviors now?
Where are the Saviors now?

(c) 2010 Jessica Robbins

Monday, December 13, 2010

tucked away in this chamber of clarity
I wear my drippy emotions deep and despairingly
I’ve stopped crying for now
but the sickle windy weather is fairing
the faint frozen soul in me
the candle is in here
it hasn’t gone out yet I see

the men come quickly
everywhere it seems
they’re waiting to objectify
more of me
they honor only their disease
project these fucking sensuous motives onto me
I don’t want sex, not in a way mortals do
I made love in a dream once
it felt more like love than use

I want such love to experience
to constantly create the spiritual ecstasy
it's more of a thought than an act
I crave healthy thinking in every cell
to know how such love feels beyond the dreamy fairytale

Fulfillment, it doesn’t dissipate after the sun rises
sometimes I delight in indulging his altering guises
young once, older the next
he's even come in an age when he was unwed
as I did suggest
it’s proven one way to know more
to be loved, cared for, and adored
by one man, at least when he chooses to see
the most sensitively remote and pure side of me

Do I know who he is at all?
Do I falter too frequently in disbelief?
if it’s truly Jesus, so mote it be

all those who know not the trinity
bide their actions by impulsive brink
laughed at sad cat calls, ignored the pervert winks
And when I tried to oblige and make it work
I tolerated abuse
and heard every petty excuse you can think
and I’ll tell you now
excuses won’t make a wedding ring

celibacy, my will
to have and hold
abstaining from skin
no more, no more men can come in

I hear their thoughts
the way they react to my form
the come not for the basin of life

they lay with countless women
who are obviously not their wives
and then they wonder why
they’re souls are still so unsatisfied
Godless fools

you can’t fill yourself with material and sex
and expect it to fix what’s wrong
another broken, loveless marriage
keeps playing that tired, ill fated Disney song
broken record

(c) Jessica Robbins

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Unraveling despair
the heartbreak fills the air
your love slaughters me
caring gore to spare

yet little is spared it seems
for it’s taking over all of my dreams
invader yeah like a razor
to a clean wrist
spill out the bloodstream

stitch my burns up again
while I’m waiting
drink a few more cups of flaming sin
the fire fills the seed
and hopelessness was made for me
just like you and I

were made to dream

a heart of grain
drawn in the sand
the tender times
I held your happy hand
rolling over close to me
begging for releasing
If I could
I'd dream without ceasing
no ceasing

I took a drink and you held on
I took some pills and you threw up
I closed my eyes and counted to ten
and you were there beside me
still waiting once again
I took an oath in secret to you
that I’d always understand
no matter what stupid shit you do
but what the fuck more do you want from me?
you and I both know they’re more than dreams
they’re more than dreams

the emotion swept me away
I fear I'm far more lovable in that place
taken with teal eyes
tidy little grace
a broken, lonely baby face

now you’re gone
and I’m searching this empty waste
wasted time and a private parking space
the oil stains on the driveway
collect runny, more saturated by the day
longing not to
wash his oil away

It’s satisfying, thrilling juicy things
the way the memories feed me
day in and slowly out
out in his starry meadow
the way truth seldom drips
over his embellished lips
words to run as love runs about

I can’t muster a hunger
I feel tempted by nothing
little tanglible registers here
I overcame the world my dear
all I have to do now is get out
do you have such ears to hear?
hear and go knowingly
beyond each and every dream
I go
go on knowing

(c) 2010 Jessica Robbins

Thursday, October 21, 2010

That’s not how it goes.
Your version paints no such enticing rose
And less emotion, the dreariness to sow

No one dotes on being wrong
but your truth is cold and impotent
woe unto you defiled foe

Karma of consequence. You know?
No, you wouldn’t know, would you?
I suppose you’d like to

Know how I saw him squirm
in a squirmy way he’s never squirmed for those who elude
so wonder away
weak minded fabrication ensues

the curiosity cripples you so
asphyxiation to the overcut throat
all of your meritless glory went to feed his gloat

spawned by impaired sages
that’s why you revisit these aggrieved pages
come lurking to the mermaid's show
these spells summon you like my dear unfavorable ghost

life demote
I’ll leap from the trusty tank that keeps me captive
(discreetly I like the glass so close)
you'll edge off as I fail and scream
portray a distraught and hapless dream
give way, idle musings the flesh born want to know

But I didn’t come to grant a fraction of disposable dignity
I'll tie no such sin to thee
And you’ll never know how far he really went with me
Cause I’m just visiting
They tagged me over 4 years ago
a spy to do God’s gentle listening
rightly sow...aye justice is slow
although sometimes gentleness and justice is like a nail
A displaced wren on a crow’s watch rail
watching the lingering meteor show

My mornings are like a honey hive
but the bees bustle far more organized and alive
Unless living means a life of torrential cries
another noon nap, my resolve divides

I can’t take anyone else’s seriousness seriously
for they are only serious about themselves
frequencies of fret
percussion of a material wishing well
future of a self-imprisoned hell
the mecca I carry
in this story only my eyes can tell

the archangels haven’t fallen
they visit me though
drape me in sheer veils of hope
asking, imposing
vital questions worthy of Mary’s knowing
have you gotten enough praise and acceptance yet?
How’s the satisfaction in your concealment?
did it cover the cost of your debt?
You better get enough money to forget
the times Jesus got your feet wet

it appears mine never dry
with each cross I meet next
puddle of your love
baby of rainy death

(c) Jessica Robbins
Sometimes when I look again
I see the submersed beauty in me
barely under the surface of ecstasy
a timid guide, a skeptical arrow
shooting a delicate serene glow
that light, the glare
the gaze I frequent
when the teasing dies about my hair
when there's little left to be sought
on the outside
it's the inner beauty I stole

(c) Jessica

Sunday, October 17, 2010

At singing practice

Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Not quite done with this one, but wow I'm having fun with the series.
Posted by Picasa

Friday, October 1, 2010

Friday, September 24, 2010

I can’t take the sound of my daughter’s cries
the wails that tell me she knows
her mother is dead on the inside
tired of this sleepless ride
so vacant and sore
nowhere left to go, nowhere of worth
I barely survived giving her birth
fragile mind, fickle and forlorn
for sudden death, I still thirst
I’m unfulfilled, my face is underscored
I’m always hungry and scratching on poor
the people of God still come to my door
but they don’t have any sympathy
for an unwed whore

I had a lover, but he doesn’t visit me anymore
I’m beside reason, there’s no motivation left
I’d give anything to just go home and forget
how I am with him in my sleep
how he laughs and plays with me
God comfort me while I grieve
for a helpless love
I’ll never see

yes, yes I pray to forget
there’s only a few shadows of him left
he was everything I hadn’t become yet
I could feel how much he cared
every time our minds met
always got lost in poetic finesse
distance couldn't keep us
or make our souls less
and now knowing I’ll never feel his caress
all I can do
is pray to forget

(c)2010 Jessica Robbins

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

instinctual bliss
departed, Scarlett's lost in the mist
i saw the grim reaper grimace
engaged like schooling fish
find my heaven
in a deathly dream tryst
groaning louder and shapeless
I might as well be nameless
it’s all complicated but basic

you were a chance I couldn’t resist
who’d have known I’d be your only weakness
the devil may care
his snakes may hiss
armed and charmed with
blunt pitch fork and a naughty list
never thought it’d come to this
I turn blue and rattle before I admit

your love is my dying wish
a final request before I exit
if it’s meant to be, well God will insist
pull back the sky of stubbornness
we'll waste our lives if we resist
be angry, make thunder fists
somewhere steal a heavenly kiss
even though you lied
your love is
my dying wish

I can barely look in my own eyes
broken reflection still haunts me inside
stirring sensation and loss of pride
I know you heard me all the times when I cried
I empty my pockets one last time
fortune cookie crumb and a dirty dime
my heart is numb yeah
I’m far from fine

not enough goodness to be
all these crippling bitter deeds
I stumbled again
too many tickets to read
before my mind is dry
before my wrist finally bleeds
I’ll be confined
and swallowing seeds
searching and finding
a spark of holiness in me
there’s no meaning to time
when I love you infinitely
your dreams always make me believe

your love is my dying wish
a final request before I exit
if it’s meant to be, well God will insist
pull back the sky of stubbornness
we'll waste our lives if we resist
be angry, make thunder fists
somewhere steal a heavenly kiss
even though you lied
your love is
my dying wish

you said you don’t hate me
but that doesn’t leave much love for me
while you were playing roundabout games
and chasing glory with fabricated fame
death was aiming convincingly, she fucking came
and now the memory is tainted and strained
wake up cold, still go against the grain
but instead of your hand
all I’m holding
is this cup of pain

your love is my dying wish
a final request before I exit
if it’s meant to be, well God will insist
pull back the sky of stubbornness
we'll waste our lives if we resist
be angry, make thunder fists
somewhere steal a heavenly kiss
even though you lied
your love is
my dying wish

there's no greater sorrow
than a dream that doesn’t come true
and baby, we’ve had one or two
well I tried to make do
but our prayers are wasted and unused
how could you say all that shit that served only you?
now I’ll suffer and get further confused
as the ball always rests with you
I think we both know
there’s too much history to undo
but till the end
my dying wish will always be you

(c) Jessica Robbins

Friday, September 3, 2010

Posted by Picasa

Most recent photo from the "just stop crying and love yourself" art series lol.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

I daydream about the urgency of his touch
Are the emotions within, without
too much, too much?
He's come to me so many times
Like a black butterfly to a jasmine vine
challenging, empowering the spring scent
batting his blue trimmed wings on my flower
White, white sweetness washed and devoured
I know not a slice of his sincerity anymore
He may be addicted to feeding
on me, his secret red red power
He escapes and seeks me out hour by latex hour
He whispers to me that I won his care
Like care is some kind of kiss from a frog
How these creatures leap when we stop looking
Halloween, Halloween, smell the candy cooking!
Impossibility, lost the ring oh the ring
I saw the wedding ring fall off
maybe that means I'll finally be where I belong
With him
Magnified by our stature, long legs, and songs
Compelling me to play along
but dreams won't right his wrongs

The duality is like our own gospel
passages of praise only he and I understand
Like Jesus forgiving the stealing man
He goes on stealing still
with only one finger on one hand

(c) 2010 Jessica Robbins
I remember the very first psychic dream I ever had. It's almost like the memory of a first kiss. Something you imagine or anticipate, the event nearly seems impossible until you arrive there in the dark, witnessing it with your own lips, your own inner eye. I remember now when it all started happening. It was right around my 18th birthday. For over a year, I’d had a somewhat steady boyfriend, Ben. In hindsight, I suppose I didn’t love him in a raw passionate, uncontrollably ferocious, thoroughly loving kind of way, but I did care about him dearly and affectionately. His confidence is what I remember the most about him, he had a balanced confidence that I lacked. Perhaps that's why I was drawn to him. He used to call me his "little girl." They all call me that, I don't know why, like I'm some kind of fucking childish house pet. I'm not so little and I'm not so girlish. I don't shop like a girl, I don't know that I even have sex like a typical girl, I'm not overly committed to my feminine side. I'm just a lean, mean, spirit machine. Well, maybe I'm not so mean.

So in the midst of my senior year in high school, I went away on a ski trip to Sugar Mountain with my family to celebrate my birthday, leaving my boyfriend alone for only a matter of days. While I was on my vacation, far up in the forest in the sky, the dream came to me. I saw Ben having sex with his ex girlfriend. It was all too clear and unobstructed. I remember it so perfectly and wholly because it’s the kind of dream you don’t want to be true. Yet there he was, romping around with another woman in plain lucid view.
I woke up in partial shock and shook my head, “Ben would never do that.” I assured myself. But the images of the dream refused to abandon my memory, they ate away at me, forcing me to ask questions and doubt the foundation of my relationship with Ben.

I enjoyed the ski trip, I remember praying and connecting to God in a way I never had before. Snowy retreats will do that to a person. Everything was going so smoothly, I felt refreshed and ready to start the rest of my life and grow into the woman heaven meant me to be. But the dream of Ben's betrayal continued to gnaw at me. As soon as I returned home, I immediately phoned Ben. The conversation got off to a very wobbly and unsettling start. He asked polite questions about my family and the ski trip, but the energy on the receiver was far less than optimistic and glad. In his odd silence, I mentioned the dream.
“Ben I had this bizarre dream, I saw you sleeping with your ex girlfriend, I mean you had sex with her in the dream.” I began steadily. “Did you see Mandy while I was away?”
“What? Mandy? No.” He stuttered and fell quiet again. He took a heavy breath and then said, “But Jessi I’m coming over to your house, I have to talk to you.”

Within 20 minutes Ben was there. I was so happy to see him. My happiness was fleetingly short lived. I tossed my arms around him and tried to hug him, but he gently pushed me away and buried his caveman like head in his hands.
“I can’t do this, I have to tell you.” His eyes began to well up. “I didn’t sleep with Mandy, but I did sleep with another girl while you were away, your dream was right Jessi, I cheated on you. I didn’t do it to hurt you, but I have to man up about it and tell you directly now. I thought about not telling you, but I feel so guilty, you're a good girl, you did not deserve for me to cheat on you.”

I gasped and felt waves of horror and disappointment bash my insides. My future with him began to crumble. I didn’t want to be angry at all. There was no anger, there was only compassion. I tried to set it right and without taking a breath, I forgave him instantly, right then, I forgave him and told him we could work it out. He shook his head and told me he was leaving me for the other girl. I knew what the other girl was doing, the psychic, "all knowing" ability had begun to function while I was awake too. I knew the every detail of what had gone down.

Ben was bragging to the other girl about me. He was telling her what a beautiful, wonderful, and sweet girlfriend I was. He was always saying things like that to people and bragging about me. That’s one of the reasons I loved our relationship. The other girl saw it as a challenge. She did not give a fuck about Ben, she just looked at him as some kind of conquest, she was only drawn to him because he was mine and unavailable. So they both got further drunk at the party they had met at and then she took advantage of the fact I was out of town and he was there alone. If I’d had been in town, I would have been at that party with him. She was just using him to give herself an ego shot, she wanted to prove to herself that she was pretty enough to steal someone else’s boyfriend away. She wanted Ben to talk about her the way he’d just rambled on about me.

The better woman floundering within me wanted to tell him everything and demand he grow some sense and see straight, look at the bigger and more logical picture here. At least try to see through the tempting lust she had gotten him stoned on. I didn’t though. I let him cry on my shoulder and soon he told me he had to go. I didn’t try to resist or plead with him after that. Moments later, we said a peaceful goodbye and he walked out the door and then I was alone with the accuracy of the dream. It seemed so harmless; the tiny, telling dream. But after years of dreaming the truth, after so many insights that originated in my head and then snowballed into uncut life before my eyes, I can see how a single dream about a disloyal boyfriend would set the tone for the rest of my life.

Ben went on to get the girl pregnant. He married her soon after. As I had predicted, she was just trying to validate herself and did not care a lick about him for the right reasons. After the baby was born, she cheated on Ben. They were divorced within a year. Afterwards, Ben tracked me down, apologized all over again and admitted that he'd made a huge mistake and he still loved me. By then, it was too late, I had moved on.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Posted by Picasa

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Swirling Thoughts of Tempest Transgression

This temple is an unrecoverable abyss of despair. I have reached a place where there is little enchantment with life. Cunning death, the only untouched fruit, would taste like nine sweet apples to my tongue.

No one knows I am here and my child is the only soul who would notice my untimely departure. Would she cry into her pillow or would she mourn me little and be more complete without my incompleteness in her life?

I altered myself in such a way that I lent the complete illusion of fluid logic to the scattered beast that is my fucked up existence. It's purposeless. My accomplishments are ripped away like my very soul is obsolete and untraceable.

I walk normally, I drive by all the stupid rules, but as an entity I am unruly and eternally on a course of death. In him my dreams are all repressed. He has a way with his lies. I kept my mouth mostly shut and sewed my funeral dress.
How much longer will God keep me here? I am a maid to misery. No friendships to speak of to thee, although I try to be as friendly as I can possibly be...
To every passing soul, they all toss a waning wave, say a quick hello and then blaze waywardly into the mirage of time with more important places to go. Am I not a place? What nerveless little of a location do I know? To me I am home, these doors will never close.

How can all of these people just congregate and converse like everything is fine? They're all frauds. People you see everyday, people you think are humble are arrogant in secret. People you think are kind, say the most hateful, unflattering things behind your back. As children we are enthusiastically introduced and thrust into this society, as if it's some spectacular place to be or grandiose rite of passage to discover sex and drunkenness. It's not. It's a sentence to be owned by urge and thirst alone. Then we are expected to give what little money we have to a system that is utterly broken and angularly parasitic and uphold some kind of fucking suave tea party in the process, making small talk all the while just to fill the emptiness within us. It's all just a a giant cross, even these personal relationships that are not personal. No. People become more impersonal and self-centered by the day, they are but thorns and nails. It's an opportunity not to thrive and find some kind of harmony or deliverance, no. We are granted a chance to be born and executed in this way, to be examples of what power does to rebels who speak with God's audacity, we are undermined by all of the people we seek to spare and free, we are captive to these terms of instability and incompetence. Liberty has come and gone and shall breathe again only when you are dead.
The jumbled ambient disaster ensues
lack of desire, lack of love
and a dangerous abundance of peculiar youth
has made me a scrawny recluse
the isolation of each day
more knots on the noose
uncounted chores, mounting unwritten dream lore
wicked fire tellers implore
strokes of fickle fate
they never stay, they never stay
they test me & try me
a little red sports car that reads
"please drive but don't dare buy me"
like I'm a fucking food sample plate
after they ate and had their way
their spirits sway, make excuses
ignore my protests and dismay
and levitate, levitate away
withdraw from unity
the collective price I pay
a beekeeper with many stings
but no honey to taste

consistency I cry for you
the jewel that is emotional dependence
a mine of common ground
yet I feel stoic and just
measuring the distance of sound
wails sounding any hint of order
is disrupted by a glance and gone

all that remains
a bruised reflection in a lily pond
and remnants of a fragile cloth
a painting that will never dry
like the fleeting generosity in his wet eyes

honesty demands my trust
I trust I gave it a fair try
but I trust more
that he was just another swine
rooting in me like a trough
the blond yarn that was his hair
mislead me to assume his soul
was just as soft
It was not

I suppose I never truly loved him
he was just another man to wear
but pettiness is hardly fashionable
and so he was worn out
like an old pair of tennis shoes
sooner the soles were bare
far from impressive and laughable
there were sharper tools to spare
but i don't visit any shed now
God let me avoid
childish stagnation and shots of slurry
it provokes the mother of all worry
and my concern was proven vain
my despair falls with disdain
for he was hardly a companion
after he left in the mornings
I found far greater comfort
in the illusions of Layne
even if he was a mere ethereal splendor
somehow he was an ally and soul defender
but at the end, the thought of any man
is just a life ender
every union is nothing of unity
none of them understand me
they stamp returned to sender on my heart
and from all grace, i soon shall depart
for if you think I'm right it isn't so
not the cloak of motherhood or the promise of dreams
can make a shattered lifetime of displacement
appear well, healthy, or whole
No, no. no
We all know I'm a shameless pretender
and so the last morsels of care
are becoming stale and cold
and common sense is colder
a frozen fairytale
elves are more loved by Claus
and i'm nothing more
than the embodiment of the lost cause
forgotten, cast aside, in these flames I smolder
wondering if I shall ever find my way
when I get a little older

(c) 2010 Jessica Robbins

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Loving the Enemy

I had a dream in which I saw my worldly father, I saw him inside a man the world might make my enemy.
The last time prior, many dream pools ago, I saw my genetic father in dreamland around Christmas. Dad gave me a gift. I opened the box to discover a purple shirt. Purple often means healing, and the shade also made me think of the purple cloth on the cross around Easter. Yet in the dream I calmly set the purple shirt aside, looked dad in the eye and said, "You are my real present."

When I awoke I knew I still loved my father, in spite of the fact he abandoned me and currently has no involvement in Aurora's life, and in spite of the fact his ongoing preoccupation with money and worldly things ever drive him to falter in loveless dishonesty and insincerity--- I love him still. The irony is that dad thought by being cold and snobby I would learn how to make my way in the world. He was wrong. His actions made me resent the world and in coming to my disgust for this hardened, regulated place, I found the softness of Jesus through dreams and visions and love not of the world. Now I feel infinite gratitude for my father's careless thoughtlessness, for in observation of his earthly selfishness, I was better capable to understand the unrivaled freedom of divine selflessness. But beyond this and far past the tediousness of confining domestic lines, I know with abounding faith and clarity that the dream was additionally expressing another critical lesson; the patient, healing love of the heavenly Father is the greatest gift of all.

I contemplated much of this after this most recent appearance of dear dad early this morning, and in peace I came to see the message of today was simple. The goodness of the Father resides even in thine enemies, it lingers in those who have stumbled constantly and wronged and betrayed and slandered you or anyone else. Recently I have felt this man in the dream has been allowing others around him to point at the tiny splinters in the eyes of others while ignoring the enormous $44,000 beam in their own eyes. It makes me upset and frustrated. Frustrated mostly because the intended lessons keep being neglected and downplayed for the sake of "survival," (which here is just another word for greed) rather than seeing that sincere service is the only true way. If you neither love nor serve your enemies but only love and serve your lies and your own "survival," what then reward do you have?

I love the man in the dream. I love him very much. I love him because we see the same dreams and I love him because he knows not what he does by lying and denying the very dreams Gos has offered us. But I hate his lies, I hate the system that makes him feel he must lie and I hate the dreamless carnal, jealous based perception that has muzzled him from talking about his own dreams. Lies are the source of corruption and lies breed torment and confusion. As much as I loathe the lies and the greed that drives him to lie, I truly love him and his soul. Just as my father had to leave so I could fathom heavenly acceptance, so too I suppose my dream friend had to deceive all of those people so both he and I could truly understand.
Which leads me to this most important verse.
‎"Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is heaven." -Jesus in Matthew 5:44

Jesus goes on the imply that in this you shall find true perfection. Mere survival is not perfection, service in washing the feet of the people who step on you is the only way to ascend to ultimate perfection. Love is repairing, it is how God mends the broken wings and the broken lying minds and mouths of His children. At it's pure essence, love is always perfect. Don't wait to use the good oil of perfection on your enemies, don't wait to wash their feet with your last bar of soap, and don't wait to give them your last dream.

I'm also including Dr. King's interpretation of this verse.

"Discover the element of good in your enemy. And as you seek to hate him, find the center of goodness and place your attention there and you will take a new attitude.

Another way that you love your enemy is this: When the opportunity presents itself for you to defeat your enemy, that is the time which you must not do it. There will come a time, in many instances, when the person who hates you most, the person who has misused you most, the person who has gossiped about you most, the person who has spread false rumors about you most, there will come a time when you will have an opportunity to defeat that person. It might be in terms of a recommendation for a job; it might be in terms of helping that person to make some move in life. That's the time you must do it. That is the meaning of love. In the final analysis, love is not this sentimental something that we talk about. It's not merely an emotional something. Love is creative, understanding goodwill for all men. It is the refusal to defeat any individual. When you rise to the level of love, of its great beauty and power, you seek only to defeat evil systems. Individuals who happen to be caught up in that system, you love, but you seek to defeat the system."

"Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, "Love your enemies." It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. That's why Jesus says, "Love your enemies." Because if you hate your enemies, you have no way to redeem and to transform your enemies. But if you love your enemies, you will discover that at the very root of love is the power of redemption. You just keep loving people and keep loving them, even though they're mistreating you. Here's the person who is a neighbor, and this person is doing something wrong to you and all of that. Just keep being friendly to that person. Keep loving them. Don't do anything to embarrass them. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with bitterness because they're mad because you love them like that. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they'll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There's something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies."

-Martin Luther King

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Excerpts from Seth Speaks by Jane Roberts

"Suffice it here to say that we have strong emotional experience, although it differs in a large measure from your own. It is far less limited and far more expansive in that we are also aware and responsive to the emotional "climate" as a whole. We are much freer to feel and experience, because we are not so afraid of being swept away by feeling.
Our identities do not feel threatened, for example, by the strong emotions of another. We are able to travel through emotions in a way that is not now natural to you, and to translate them into other facets of creativity than those with which you are familiar. We do not feel the need to conceal emotions, for we know it is basically impossible and undesirable. Within your system they can appear troublesome because you have not yet learned how to use them. We are only now learning their full potential, and the powers of creativity with which they are connected."

"Each reader is a portion of his or her own entity, and is developing toward the same kind of existence that I know. In childhood and in the dream state, each personality is aware to some extent of the true freedom that belongs to its own inner consciousness. These abilities of which I speak, therefore, are inherent characteristics of consciousness as a whole and of each personality."

"Our environment therefore is composed of exquisite imbalances, where change is allowed full play. Your own time structure misleads you into your ideas of the relative permanency of physical matter, and you close your eyes to the constant alterations within it. Your physical senses confine you as best they can to the perception of a highly formalized reality. Only through the use of the intuitions and in sleep and dream states, as a rule, can you perceive the joyfully changing nature of your own, and any, consciousness."

"Now, many of these freedoms are quite natural to you in the dream state, and you form dream environments often to exercise such potentials.You can learn to change your physical environment, therefore, by learning to change and manipulate your dream environment. You can also suggest specific dreams in which a desired change is seen, and under certain conditions these will then appear in your physical reality. Now often you do this without realizing it."

"The problems vary according to the system in which my pupil has his or her existence. In your system, for example, and in connection with the woman through whom I now write this book, initial contact on my part was made long before our sessions began.
The personality was never consciously aware of the initial meeting. She simply experienced sudden new thoughts, and since she is a poet, these appeared as poetic inspirations. At one time some years ago, at a writers' conference, she became involved in circumstances that could have led to her psychic development before she was ready. The psychological climate at that time, of those involved, initiated the conditions, and without realizing what she was about our friend [Jane] went into a trance.
I had known of her psychic gifts since her childhood, but the insights necessary were channeled through the poetry until the personality attained the necessary background that was needed in this particular case. In the affair just mentioned, therefore, I was informed and saw to it that the episode ended and was not pursued.
It was hardly an accidental performance, however. Quite without knowing it, the personality decided to try its wings, figuratively speaking. As a part of my work, therefore, I have been coaching the young woman in one way or another since her childhood - and all of this as a preliminary to the serious work that began with our sessions."
"When I enter your system, I intrude into three-dimensional reality, and you must interpret what happens in the light of your own root assumptions. Now whether or not you realize it, each of you intrudes into other systems of reality in your dream states without the full participation of your normally conscious self. In subjective experience you leave behind physical existence and act, at times, with strong purpose and creative
validity within dreams that you forget the instant you awaken.
When you think of the purpose of your existence, you think in terms of daily waking life, but you also work at your purpose in these other dream dimensions, and you are then in communication with other portions of your own entity, at work at endeavors quite as valid as those you are about in waking life.
When I contact your reality, therefore, it is as if I were entering one of your dreams."
"There is communication between these other realities and your own in your dream states, and a constant interaction between both systems. If there is any point where your own consciousness seems to elude you or escape you, or if there is any point where your consciousness seems to end, then these are the points where you have yourselves set up psychological and psychic barriers, and these are precisely those areas that you should explore. Otherwise you feel as if your consciousness is enclosed within your skull, immobile and constricted, and every lost thought or forgotten memory at least symbolically seems like a small death. And such is not the case."

Saturday, July 10, 2010

I found this CD when I was cleaning a few weeks ago and played the hell out of it again to reconnect with my inner child of the ‘90s.

Look into the hearts of those that apparently are successful in material things, and unless such successes are founded in the spirit of justice, mercy, love and long-suffering and brotherly kindness, they must fade and fall away. Yet if they are builded in those things that are the fruits of the spirit, they will grow and blossom as the Rose of Sharon. -Edgar Cayce Reading 531-3

Those who have come to the attitude of seeking physical gratification find that this is plain hell itself. -Edgar Cayce Reading 5250-1

Heaven? Where? Within the hearts, the minds, the place where Truth is made
manifest! Wherever Truth is made manifest, It gives place to that which is heaven-- those that seek and love truth. But it's a mighty hell for those that seek gratification of their own selves! -Edgar Cayce Reading 262-87

This is why one mustn't mistake thinking of heaven or hell as actual places or locations, neither up nor down per say, but these each are more as dreams in the regard that they can be as wonderfully loving and happy... or nightmarish and dark a state of mind as you would make and create within yourself! People who have been afflicted by or battled any kind of addiciton will likely tell you that it is very much like trying to conquer and climb out of an awful personal hell. Drinking, excessive or causal sex or what have you, these are quick means of satisfying impulsive urges and destructive desires within self. If you constantly desire alcohol and do not have the self-control to resist it, you will become a drunk. But if you replace the desire and the habit with even exercise...you could very well become an Olympian. Replace it with nothing but good music and you could become a gifted musician. Replace it with the Spirit of Truth and you will became a channel for truth.

In this respect, any recovering addict must also be very careful and wary when entering relationships after getting sober. I know several people who have overcome some kind of addiction, only to hastily replace it with bad marriages or some kind of abusive relationship. They traded a love of alcohol for a love of the ongoing power struggles that tend to occur between men and women. Most people in recovery are vulnerable, they are afraid of making decisions for themselves or being in control of their own lives because for so long, the risky decisions and choices they made to get drunk or high-- hurt and damaged themselves. They are afraid of their own freedom because they abused it to alter themselves with sedatives or stimulants. So when they meet someone after being cured of their addiction, they replace it with lust for that person to distract or redirect the cravings and simply allow that person to dictate everything in their lives so they don't revert back to their old habits of coping.

To fulfill that purpose for which an entity, a being has manifested in matter is the greater service that can possibly be rendered.
Is the oak lord over the vine? Is the dollar weed beset before the tomato? Are the grassy roots ashamed of their flowers beside the rose?
All of the forces and details in nature are fulfilling rather their purposes to which their Maker, their Creator has called and assigned them into being...reflecting--as each soul, as each man and each should do in their particular sphere--THEIR concept of their maker!! -Edgar Cayce Reading 1391-1

To break this down, the reading is essentially saying that even those who do not believe in God, even terrorists and murderers who are more like weeds among the roses, they too have a natural purpose and a role to carry out. Different religions are much like different fruits. One may taste sweeter than the other, some may appear oddly shaped on the outside, but each has different nourishing qualities within that are mostly admirable and helpful, if only for the zestful spirit of fellowship and veins of truth they offer. One fruit is not better than or above any other, but you have to eat something should you hope to survive and grow and flourish. And just as fruits can rot, surely there are religions or people who claim to be religious individuals who in fact suffer from various forms of rot or disturbing infestation of unclean parasites and unhealthy desires. But not all of these are a fair or appropriate representation of the entire crop.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

So, since I know you can't live without hearing the sound of my singing voice, I made this for you. I finally got my hands on a damn microphone, but the recording device on the laptop is crap, so sorry it sounds like I'm singing underwater. Sometimes my neighbors come out of their houses to listen to me. A girl I went to school with has since gone on to become a professional opera singer and I remember as children, we used to try and out sing each other on the playground. I bet I could still out sing her though. xoxo
“You cannot see a spirit sign for your eyes are full of carnal self.” And then Jesus speaks of people who had approached him and asked him to fly in order to prove himself the Christ, or to give them material things to purchase their devotion. Some of them said “If you give me this many coins, then I will believe” and Jesus said, “Faith is not something you can buy with coins and faith is not something you can sell for gold. You offer to exchange your faith for signs or riches.”

Spirit signs more often come through dreaming for this is when the soul is still and seeks the hidden path of light. I've heard many times that dreams always reflect yourself, but here again, speak for yourself, for my dreams do not merely contain self matter. If you are full of self, your dreams are much more likely to be self-involved also.
After I embraced my dream self as the real me, the dreams expanded beyond the realm of pettiness and anxiety. While many of the petty souls are awake, they seek personal satisfaction and material and worldly recognition, they seek validation to their ridiculous addictive habits and fruitless ways of life, they even seek others to laugh with them as they condemn others. They seek other people to share their obsessions with. But reception in the spirit is not found in vulgar fulfillment, nor even the appearance of friendship with people who promote the liars and servants of ego and self. It certainly cannot be found on the silver screens or magazine covers of the earth. These are the pages of flesh, these are the harbors where temptation comes to port to restock, and while you are flipping through the pages of flesh, the torch of the spirit is ablaze elsewhere for it cannot burn in your while you are fueling the carnal fires of arrogance and deception.
Some of them say to love life, but for many of them, the life they love is death and if they love this death and glorify that of the seven unclean spirits which brings death, they cannot have true life. I washed their feet, I shared the words of the Savior with them, I confessed all of my shortcomings and sins, I offered to help them cast out the demons, and they rejected me and denied me anyway and instead cast me out of their castle. So shook my foot dust off in the corners of their lands and dreams and walked away with Jesus. He and I accept such excommunication to try to make it on our own rather than endure the status quo or submit to their blind conditions.

I saw a window washer on the outside of a building in the mountains. He washed not the windows for others to see out, nor did he wash so that the light may stream through clearer glass, but he washed the windows so he could spy in on the nudity of the bride as she dressed for her wedding. I ran to the window to speak with him, but startled him so and he slipped and lost his grip on the ledge. He tumbled from the mountains and down to the snow below. I did not laugh at his stumble, but quickly ran down the stairs and into the street to assist him and dust him off and clean his wounds and then invited him inside. Once he was among the bridal party, he became distracted by appliances and fidgeted with other sources of energy rather than seeking the electricity he had within. He became fixated on an outlet, a manmade plastic contraption, and I spoke unto him, “Be not concerned with plugging into the world, but plug into the spiritual union of the bride and groom for what the bride and groom are, you are inside and in inner union is oneness in the Lord.”

“And what I do all men can do.” -Jesus

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Monday, July 5, 2010

I needed to do SOMETHING with my hair, but I wanted to keep it long, so I cut it to look like this...
Posted by Picasa

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Candid Random

Posted by Picasa

Posted by Picasa

Posted by Picasa

Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Aurora Borealis
Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

unwanted by the world
but cradled by a cove of ceaseless care
the faith I find in Gabriel’s lair
as I fall asleep
I think in him, of his black hair
then I come to knowing
our minds as a magnetized pair
and once again he’s there, he’s there
in blameless humility
we meet in this place
of lucid stillness and civility
in his eyes I see blue flares of chivalry
the last traces of a fairytale nobility
black are his clothes
he always tells me he's old
but he's an ageless, rare mold
I could smell the smooth leather on his soul
I know not my the colors of my own
or what shade God made such grace
but I’m sure his reluctant presence
always illuminates my face
like a shiny red balloon

Monday, May 31, 2010

I woke up, in a jungle tree
Heard a trail of faint screams
He ignored the lunacy
His focus fell graciously
Upon the better woman in me
He looked down, all deliciously
Threw a dandelion smile on me
His thoughts were bold
But he eyed my soul so innocently
Like a harmless, gentle stream
Trickling, he was restless in-between
Awake and sleep
and he knows, I like to dream
The mecca where
His thoughts become deeds

We were love bird fish
flying ever amiss
Circling infinity, our happiness was made
mirror of each other's bliss
In a moment, a simple exchange
Right beside me, was a hissy snake
The temptation stenciled on his face
No, no baby don't hesitate
If we wait, it will be too late
The branches of fate
were twisted like braids
held me in a boa daze
I was lost in his aqua kitty gaze
The only wrong mistake
is ever leaving this place
I wanted him to squeeze me
And cradle me raw
But now I’m just thankful for all I saw

Jessica Robbins (c) 2010

Sunday, May 30, 2010

I feel like a child sometimes
still fresh and helpless
struggling to find play time
and stay selfless
the world is pouring with the selfish
mercy me, sucking down flesh
they probably won’t get this
and I can't explain why
I feel like his night time mistress

our dreams have no laws or lines
I see other lives running on a redeye
he was there, it was so divine
but now and then, he lies
I tried to love him but he said
“no, little girl, it’s fine
don't you know, what yours is only mine
that's how my greed rolls
if you love me just leave me alone
can’t you see girl?
It's a one man show
And I'm owned by
a messed up money home
My wife’s bitching down my throat
and I’m using you as a scapegoat
I’m high on self-glory and gloat
and I don’t give a fuck
if you and the baby go broke
so if you love me, let me know
and just leave me alone
God knows I’m flying on ego
and I have to let you go
if you love me, if you love me
just fuck off and leave me alone.”

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Snakes made of white
Mermaids in the sky
swimming in an ocean of light
blessings hidden in the night
cosmic matrix of urgency
warfare too plenty

silence is a system of energy
silence, the source of sanity
in the silence
I am always listening
To Jeshua
his voice kinetically suspending thoughts of me
Aquarian twins enraptured in the trinity
of peace

it was a happily ever now kind of Halloween
by the second day
he wanted to marry me
I saw a sign
the sword is in the queen
peddle here my darling
I'll surely wear your wedding ring

christened by John in a holy dream
when I awoke, I heard the song of destiny
Jesus, Jesus the playful psychic tease

Jessica Robbins (c) 2010

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Posted by Picasa

This one seems all Mary/ Da Vinci esque to me for some reason...

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The light is eclipsed by excessive decadence
and I know not where the honesty
of undying affection went
amnesty of men
harboring nostalgia of the dead
yearning for the precipitated end
the end of racing disgust in my head
a place of disaster and impending sin
my identity has betrayed an unfit friend
seaside, a suicide swim
his fucking voice pulled me in again
all of the other boats were the wrong size
he made me promise after eating ores of his lies
that I’d keep steering straight
in heaven’s eyes
ha, the fuck right
it was too little
too fucking late
that fire had long died

By scarlett sunrise,
the last of the lame sense in me
had cried and formed a pasty, dry disguise
I don’t know how my smile fools
so many fools
there is no fucking happiness in here
joy puked and smeared
restless in horrid company
company of the unkind
most of the blind
don’t even know they are blind
is there such purpose to heal?
my ghosts, their moans, echo more real
in a heaven not of me
for I am hell
I know not why the truth rings like Satan’s bell
maybe redemption is the final surprise
for negativity is surely unfurl and unwise
and so few know true compromise
but somewhere beyond the maze of the magi moon
covered in the misery of demon dreaded skies
our love is still alive
and well

Jessica Robbins (c) 2010

Thursday, April 15, 2010

some grow up in grace
and some just grow down and cold
chopped up in bitterness and cuckold old
only soaring to die, forsaking all He foretold
while the others of light
sleep in scripture
and steadily, readily abide
in God, in Christ
in the duality of glass eyes
rolling back the truth inside

I had such a role of reprise
a lover
a bowl of porridge just the right size
everything tasted fine
until I spooked him out
with my shy green eyes
I nuzzled his dreams and kissed him twice
but commitment is a rare creature
that likes to hide

i sought the shoulder of the throne
and cried
as the air in my chest rose and held tight
like a baby holding a finger
I held the flower of life
I traced the memory until no more hopes could linger
we were just a film of smoke
curling further away, angel sheer
i ate the ashes
made angels in the saw dust
and prayed like praying was a career
the earth had changed
it shook and sneered
but the tides of tomorrow
swept me away just the same
oh how the mermaids veer

the thick opposition in his eyes
was like a blood stain
no sign of fading
until it’s too late
a haven where forgiveness is laced
in dull perceptions and restrictions
sheering death, an untimely restriction

after his vainglorious mind was gone
I rediscovered a willingness to live
a reason to go on
in the works of service I was dying to give
an ascension was happening
few could pretend

I meditated on the simplicity
nature had served me simply
the cardinals chirping lithely
just after the clock struck three
the multitude of blessings
abound in the most obscure breeze
the jasmine vapors of spring
opened like soar eyes
white light came and went
the sweltering summers in Florida's hellish decent
the state of sunshine and flowers
was becoming a state of lent

i gave up my needs
and deeper admired the sweetness
in each leaf on the old oak tree
the one I had to cut down before its time
after the tree cutters left that day
I went out in a fog of nostalgia
and counted every last sappy line
the leaves had collected like clumps of dust in my yard
the limbs were lifeless but hadn’t fallen very far
like me
a living soul in a lifeless tree

(C) 2010 Jessica Robbins

Thursday, April 8, 2010

An age of innocence seemed to pass in matter of a few hours. I went to sleep around 9:30. Daniel woke me up in pitchy blackness with his barbaric drunk dialing around 2 am. Without any cues from me, Daniel began addressing my motherhood again, pouring out heartfelt thoughts and feelings rather impressively.
“I do understand that you’re a mom, I just want you to know. It’s not a bad thing. You have a right to be happy too, you don’t have to be afraid of dating me. I want this to be fun for us.”
“It’s hard raising her by myself and all I need is a tiny window of time to unwind and feel like a grown woman. I just don’t want men to keep abandoning me because Aurora is my first priority. It’s actually nice when you’re here and I have someone to help me take my mind off of being a mother. That’s not who I am all the time and I feel so comfortable and happy and alive when I’m with you Daniel.” I murmured in confession.
“I know, I feel the same Jess. I promise I’ll spend more time with you in the sunlight. I just wasn’t sure what to make of everything. I haven’t had sex like that in years…I mean when you kept rolling over and asking to do it again, I couldn't believe it...the way we are together....it's just wild.”
"It's kind of electric." I agreed.
He kept talking as though he wanted us to merge into something meaningful. I was stunned and gladdened by everything he said. I just prayed he meant it and wasn’t rambling on drunk again and merely saying what I wanted to hear. I felt in my gut that he was finally being upfront with me. He’d only been away from me for about 14 hours, but as the conversation progressed, he began appealing to come back. At first I was reluctant to agree, but in spite of my sleepiness, I knew I was anxious to see him again too, especially after he’d opened up to me like that. I wanted everything to keep going as playfully and tenderly as it had been. I finally felt like I was on the same page with a guy I was over the moon about and there was no subjective reason to postpone the fast track we seemed to be taking.
I told Daniel to slow down and drive safely and then hung up with him and prayed. Blindly I stumbled out of bed and switched on a tiny lamp. Daniel had estimated that he would be over in a matter of 15 minutes. I quickly put on some nice lingerie and planned to surprise him at the front door, all done up in black lace and high heels. I was so excited that I had every intention of yanking him in and hauling him upstairs and giving him a really slow lap dance. I rarely have a man in the house, I never get the opportunity to make sexy gestures for guys anymore, so I was totally stoked.
45 minutes strained and stroked the clock and still no sign of Daniel. I made my way back up stairs and slipped into a white robe and reached for the cell phone. I dialed him and it rang and rang forever and then went to voicemail. I felt like something was wrong so I left a message.
“Daniel this is Jessica. I’m concerned. You told me you were going to be here in 15 minutes and that was over 45 minutes ago. If you decided not to come by or if you made other plans, it’s completely fine, I understand. Just please call me as soon as you get this so I know that you’re alright, you sounded pretty wasted when we were talking, I just want to make sure you’re ok.”
I hung up, waited 10 minutes and then called back again. Still no answer. I didn’t want to panic; I wanted to keep my head as clear as possible so I could piece together the psychic information streaming in. I closed my eyes and saw a vision of Daniel standing near a tree with a police officer. I could see the red and blue lights swirling around.
Well, at least he’s alive, I can see him. I thought. I tuned in as close as God would let me and I heard the police officer talking to Daniel. I could not make out any distinct words, I just heard the officer asking him a bunch of questions. I got panicked for Daniel, but kept my wits. I lain back in bed, guarded yogic breaths and prayed. Somehow I managed to fall asleep by 4 am. The dreams stayed away.
At 5:55 am, the phone rang me awake.
“Hello??” I said, worried.
“Jessica, it’s me. I’m so sorry I didn’t come by, I got into a really bad accident I think my car is totaled.” Daniel’s voice was puffy and congested, like he’d been crying for 3 hours straight.
“Daniel no!” I cried. The wind was knocked out of me, I felt awful for him. I felt somehow responsible because I didn’t yell at him beforehand and I knew he was driving drunk. “Are you ok? Are you hurt physically?” My voice quivered.
“I’m a little banged up, but I’ll be ok, I don’t have any major injuries.” He sniffed. I knew he had his left hand placed on his forehead. His eyes were probably swollen and redder than radishes.
I had a horrible feeling that I was supposed to be the instant voice of reason. The gravest of possibilities began bum rushing my mind and I didn’t try to censor my thoughts. I eased in calmly. “Daniel, please just listen to me, really listen to what I am saying. I didn’t want to interfere with your life, but I knew something like this was coming. I tried to talk to you before you left, when we were sitting here talking about these types of events in life, I was trying to warn you about what the angels had said to me. Do you remember what I said about the pine in the dream? Do you remember me saying something about the pine wood?”
“Yes.” He said slowly.
“You ran into a pine tree, didn’t you?”
I heard him gasp but he didn’t say anything. It had to be a pine tree. The dreams are never wrong.
“Look, I know you think my dream journal is just a bunch of crappy theories and I’ll be the first to admit that the dreaming is not an exact science, but I know what I’m doing and I know what I’m talking about. I don’t alarm people or yammer on about these dreams for my own health. I see everything in distortion before it takes place, that’s why I was trying to talk to you about this yesterday, I knew something was about to happen. I couldn’t see the entire scheme of accident. I only had a few clues to work with and I was trying to convey the urgency to you. I just didn’t want to freak you out or make you afraid to go out and live life. I wanted to let you be free to make your own mistakes. Bluntly, I didn’t know how far into your business I was supposed to go, but I…I don’t want it to seem like I’m lecturing you now, but perhaps you need the lecture…”
“No, I can tell you are trying to be helpful, I mean you’re defiantly being compassionate about it.” He paused. “And you’re right. I slammed into a pine tree.” He choked out.
“Daniel, I have been where you are and I wish someone had said to me what I am saying to you now. There are always going to be people out in bars getting drunk, there are always going to be people younger and more beautiful parading around at clubs, falling under the spells of glamour and liquor. But after you go home, after the bars close and the girls are out of sight, you are totally stuck with yourself and your vices. If I drink anymore, I usually drink at home, that way I'm not risking my life or anyone else's by being carelessly hammered. You are the only one who can make the decision to walk away from the accident that is social drinking. You are the only one who can save yourself. I cannot save you if you do not want to be saved and I cannot make these life-altering choices for you. You know I wanted to stop this, but your free will is the trigger.” I said crossly.
“I know. You’re absolutely right. I should have thought about this before, I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe how fast it all happened.” He moaned stuffily. It didn't happen fast at all. I was the bystander who had watched and known of all the tiny details leading up to this disaster. I became livid.
“I told you to just come back here and hang out with me, I tried to tell you to skip the damn bars and the beers, but you didn’t listen to me and you mocked the dream that tried to save you. I don’t know what you are trying to do. Are you trying to prove something? Is this just about you having freedom and showing me how it is? Showing me where my place is at the end of your nightly check list? I mean, were you out trying to pick up a better looking girl? Do you call me only after you failed in trying to leave with strangers from the bar? You'll have to forgive the third degree. I am just trying to understand where your fucking head is because you’re a danger to yourself and now to society, so you sure proved your point! I don’t know if you went out and got drunk because you like me and you wanted to dilute your feelings because it freaks you out, or what, but I really tried to level with you and tried to convince you to not go out binge drinking again. If you’d have listened to me when it counted and spent quailty time with me rather than going out and pigging out on liquor and eye candy, then we would not be having this discussion and your car would not be wrecked.” I shook my head as if he could see me. I wanted to shake him. Fire was rippling through my blood.
“I still can’t believe I am alive, if you could see my car, you would think I should be dead.” He said solemnly, intentionally avoiding answering some of my questions.
“I am so sorry this happened, but you need to take some responsibility. You made a series of bad and dangerous choices and I really hope you learned the lesson here. Drinking and driving always leads to disaster, you may side step it and luck out here and there, but the odds are against you. My friend Eric died when he was like 23 because he drove drunk. The last time I saw Eric, I was six and a half months pregnant. We were standing on the corner of first street right by the Ocean club. I saw him and I almost ran away because I didn’t want Eric to know I was pregnant. But I changed my mind. I knew it would be lousy if I pretended not to see him just because I had gotten knocked up. So I sucked in my tummy and I walked over to Eric and gave him a huge hug. We stood there talking for about five minutes. Less than two weeks later, Eric was gone. Since then, I have gone over that one night in my head at least 500 times. Do you think I want the same thing to happen to you?”
“No.” He said meekly. More sniffles.
“You are so blessed and so lucky that your ass didn’t die tonight and you’re lucky you didn’t kill another person on the road because you made a really shitty choice to get plastered and then drive. You have no idea how many times I have prayed for you and held my breath as you were on your way over, just worrying about the possibility of this very thing. Why I think the only reason you are in one piece is because I started praying as soon as I got off the phone with you and I asked archangel Michael to put a bubble of light around your car. You are so fortunate the angels were with you and protected you. The car can be replaced, but you are so precious and so irreplaceable. You are a loveable, wonderful, and extraordinary man and it hurts me that you are doing this to yourself, it hurts me because I really care about you and I know you’re a beautiful human being and I know you can do better than this.”
Daniel whimpered a few times and tried to muffle his sobs. I couldn’t cry with him. I was still too far embedded in shock to be having this discussion at all. I’d known for a while it was coming. Only difference was now Daniel was actually listening to me and absorbing everything I had to say. He never listened to me before, he had always just waited for me to stop talking so he could make a joke or recite more comical movie lines. He wasn’t laughing now. Maybe God was cracking up. The dream angels and I were certainly having some kind of righteous, ‘I told you so’ moment. It was foreign to be speaking to Daniel without the sound of his laughter following each sentence. I’d never heard him be serious before, it was kind of refreshing to know this side of him existed under the phony laugh factory persona. I guessed then and there that the seriousness would last maybe two weeks and then he’d be right back to the exact same antics and irresponsible driving. I really hope I’m wrong. I don’t have to be right, but I know my dreams are always right and truthful because they come from God. Maybe Daniel will listen the next time I come to him with a dream. One day, maybe the world will listen.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Sleep, my old fickle lover, found her way back to me and cradled me so. But then she was gone again just as swiftly as she’d touched my eye. I had no one to wake up to except the angels. The house was dark and cold and eerie in the late March night. The dream I’d just returned from seemed pointless to remember and I told the vision so by turning my nose up at the open journal resting on my nightstand. My mind was still fixated on the dream of Daniel. Not really on Daniel himself per say, but I was fascinated by the way I related to Daniel’s angels, the way they seemed to be reaching out me. Probably because they knew I would listen to them better than Daniel does. I like his angels better than I like him.
I got up and clumsily wandered to the bathroom in the dark, came back and looked blurry eyed at the digital clock. It was 2:44 AM. I expelled a perturbed sigh and collapsed back into the purple sheets. I tossed and squirmed for about twenty minutes, unable to fall back into the arms of slumber. Then the phone rang out through the blackness. Daniel.
“Hello.” My voice was clear and alert.
“What’s your last name?” Daniel’s voice sprang into my sleepy ear. He sounded more controlled, but still just as drunk as ever.
“You called me at 3 am to ask me my last name? Are you insane? Why do you want to know my last name?” I wondered in huffy protest. “Usually people only ask me my last name when they’re trying to stalk me.”
Daniel laughed nervously, then the gears in his head slowed and he decided to change the subject. “I know it’s 3 am, it’s late, but I’m coming home from Riverside and wanted to see if I could stop by.” He began trying to sweet talk me. He teetered to sound more grown up, like he was intentionally trying to deepen the sound of his voice. I was so excruciatingly tired that I paid it little thought.
I groaned and then unloaded. “You are lucky I was awake, otherwise I’d be blessing you out right now. What is it with you? What is your impolite fucking deal? Can you only hang out with me when you’re drunk? Am I your ugly last resort or something? How many other girls did you call before you called me?” I interrogated firmly. All reasonable questions.
“I didn’t call any other girls before I called you.” He lied. I knew he was lying. The bars had closed over an hour ago. What was he doing for an hour before he decided to grace me with the neon rave ring? I’m not stupid. I’ve played the same game with other people that Daniel was playing with me. I always lost. Either a good man or a good friend or a good something, I always lost by lying and rudely skating on other people’s kindness and hospitality. My heart began to pound faster, more heated in fury than in narcoleptic love.
“I’m sorry I’m always drunk when I come by.” He stammered. “I promise we can have some kind of intelligent conversation this time. I wouldn’t want you to think of retaliating because I only talk to you when I’m drunk.” He muttered sarcastically out of the good side of his intoxicated mouth.
“Why would you say something like that to me?” I asked briskly. He had totally raided my blog, that filthy, scandalous worm had infiltrated it somehow. It probably got to him that I read him so well, as unorthodox a man as he was, I still read him like he was a schoolyard sign for illiterate children. It wantonly flustered him that there wasn’t any kind of mysterious quality for him to hide behind when it came to me. He was irreverently transparent. His beguiling attraction to me was heighted to all new kinetic levels because I had him figured out.
But I still humored him. “Daniel, you don’t have to try to impress me or falsify a front of being some kind of philosophical conversationalist if that isn’t who you are. I want you to feel like you can be yourself around me; that’s the most important thing, I want to know who you really are.” I cooed sincerely. Then my tone stiffened abruptly. “I just hope who you are is not this drunk, lost little boy who creeps into my house in the middle of the night to get a fast flesh fix just because you feel sorry for yourself and need attention.”
I didn’t want to hurt him, his feelings or his heart. I only wanted to be straightforward and hopefully bring out a better side of him. I wanted to coax out the Daniel who’d been playing with me in the dreams. I was smitten with that version of Daniel, the more well-mannered and evolved grown up hiding behind his profane pan complex. This Daniel, the slippery when drunk Daniel--was robbing himself of his own divine potential. I empathized with this boy regardless. I knew exactly what he was going through. I was all too accustomed to the noxious lifestyle Daniel was living and I certainly didn’t envy his precarious footsteps. He was a walking landmine. I wanted to take him in whenever he’d let me, just so I could try to get through to him somehow, so I could diffuse him before he expired or crossed any more wrong wires. Archangel Michael had enlisted me to do just that. Problem was, much of what I had to say came from the contents of the dreams, and/or from conversations between the angels and I. Men who are born and bred in inescapable realism scoff at the legitimacy of my abilities and refuse to take the matter seriously until it’s too late.
“I can see myself marrying a writer.” I heard Daniel think over my asphyxiating thoughts.
“What?” I squeaked.
“I didn’t say anything.” He claimed rapidly on the other end of the line.
“You need to be careful what you think; about me or otherwise.” I warned. “I find out one way or another.” I paused and waited. I heard his teeth clamp and the sneaky lines on his milky forehead vanish. “And while I’m at it, do you not like it that I’m a redhead? Are you opposed to the idea of spending time with a redhead? Is that why you just use me like a redheaded slut when you’re trashed? Do you only come over here at night because the darkness hides the vividness of my red hair? Is my colorful soul too much for you to handle??” I tried to steady the anger sweltering on my tongue. I could tell Daniel’s face was grimacing on the other end of the line. Bursts of heavenly wind beat at my cheeks. Archangel Michael was swatting at me, trying to make me stop being a bitch. He failed.
“Do you not want me to stop by?” Daniel tried to alter the line of questioning.
“That’s not what I said. And you didn’t answer me.” I snapped, irritated. “If you don’t like it that I’m a redhead, then don’t linger about in my house and pretend to care about me and then walk out of here and berate me based on my looks. You’re just another demon of man to neglect the essence of all that I am. I bet you have no idea what I even mean by that because you’re calling me at 3am with one sad idea raging through your loose pants anyway.” I paused to breathe. My nostrils fanned out. “Take it up with God if you hate redheads.” I ordered. “I’m sure God loves redheads just as much as he loves ignorant idiots like you.” I closed my eyes and prayed to hear the receiver of Daniel’s cell slam shut so I could go back to sleep.
“I don’t have an issue with it.” He replied shortly. I knew he was making sewage faces and taunting me.
“You are so full of shit.” I snarled and squinted green eyes like a cat staring into the sun. “Are you sure? Because I sure the fuck don’t want to contaminate all of your perfect blondness with my gross gingerly untouchable disease.”
“So I can come over?” His voice curled like smoke with no room to float. I pictured him speeding in his silver car, making his way over the hump of the very same bridge I’d been cruising on when I’d realized I’d forgotten to give him my phone number. The agony of that mistake had further and further healed with each virile word he spoke, with each time I got to see his face again. I relented. Not to him, but to the angels.
“If you’re not here in 20 minutes, I’m locking the door and going back to sleep.” I said stubbornly.

I let him inside shortly thereafter. The house didn’t rumble when he walked in this time. He was just over six feet tall, skinny, but composed in his body. His blond hair hung down neatly on his shoulders, but his face was just as grizzly, untidy, and as prickly ginger as it could be. He smelled crisp, like bottled cleanliness. He was more subdued than normal. His posture had taken a hit and his shoulders were slumped, presumably because I’d gotten to him and made him question his spine. Good. Someone needed to.
I felt like a dork walking around in jeans and a green tunic at 3:33 in the morning. I don’t know why I’d bothered to put street clothes on. I should have just stayed put in my obscenely loud fleece pajama pants. I usually love my hair, but now I felt like I was hideous to him and it made me want to scalp myself. Maybe he’d like me better if I dyed my hair blond. I suppose it’s more his problem than mine, I had always enjoyed being the only redhead in a room before; I really didn’t want to let one na├»ve little boy ruin that joy for me. I suspected him to be the tasteless type who’d still be cracking crude jokes at my funeral, right after I’d died from being a fair redhead with progressive skin cancer. “That ginger skank is probably doing the ginger jive in her ginger hell right now.” I’m sure I’ll hear his evil little laugh echoing all the way to hell.

I was cold to Daniel for as long as I could stand it, arms folded brazenly, little eye contact, and even less touching. My words were short and selective. The frostiness gave me some kind of stupid rush, being standoffish offered the comfort I did not want to try to find in his arms. I really didn’t trust him, no matter how much I wanted to make him feel loved. I wondered if he was only here because he had no other place to go or because he had something to prove. The somberness on his face told me that he didn’t know if I loved him or loathed him. He acted less like a savage lion and more like a frightful baby deer, a deer about to be shot by an irate ginger snap. He was even more adorable when he was vulnerable and I was profoundly unnerved by my ruddy attraction to him. I purposefully kept my face aimed away from him. I felt his eyes measuring me like blue teaspoons and I hated it. I suspected he only came back so I’d write about him again, so he’d have some sick way to see how women react to him and his strange, unpredictable behavior. So he could see himself through my eyes. Being exposed to the inside of my head probably bombarded him with emotions that he explored very infrequently or had tried to repress with beer and weed. Maybe the exposure would serve him well, if he used my misfortune and angelic tendencies to become happier, to reconcile his bad habits. I predicted he’d continue to use me in the process.
I was right. We had the angriest kind of sex you can fathom. His lips were softer and impetuously racy. He kissed me differently, like he wanted to be kissing me this time. Or he was kissing me with vengeance in his heart, just to confuse me further and lead me on, straight into my own loveless death. He was more mentally into sex, or so he let me believe. The fluidity of his thoughts got me off. The unison and mirror of our thoughts got me off harder. Afterwards when he smiled in the glow, I rediscovered a different form of joy, a joy that only comes from making another person happy. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave. I wasn’t in a hurry to kick him out. Once he finally started to collect himself to go, I asked him to snuggle with me for five more minutes. Blue flames began to soar through his eyes and he smirked at me real devilishly and then agreed. His smile was slyly victorious, but I didn’t care, I wanted to let him win. I knew winning would please him. I wanted him to be pleased with life. I wanted him to be pleased by a few moments of life with me.
There was something inside of me that didn’t want to let him leave at all. I reasoned it would be bad for both of us if we ever separated again. He sandwiched my petite body back into his arms and began to talk serenely. I like to listen to him talk. When his thoughts bound out of his mouth, it helps him sort out the unresolved ordeals he’s been trying to avoid coming to terms with. He probably said things to me that he hasn’t mumbled to himself when he’s alone in many vacuous years. He makes me think about the more damaged pieces of myself that I’d killed and buried years ago. Years ago when I was alone in self-destruction, before I ever knew the chemical fire in his eyes and the lost child in his soul. Before I knew the grace of letting go and the grace of giving in.

Friday, March 26, 2010

I was taking a dreamless nap around 5 pm on a Thursday afternoon. Suddenly my light sleep was interrupted by a slow creak coming from the front door. I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Aurora’s sprite voice traveled up the stairwell and filled my room with the energy of glee. Her friend Dina from across the street had returned with her. I listened closely to the girls and grinned, shifting under the sheets and contemplating the long hop out of bed to go make them some popcorn.
“I’m going to go check on my mom.” I heard Aurora say. My heart quivered at the delivery. An innocent six year old was talking about checking on me as if she knew I was dying, like I was a constant critical mess. I tried to protect her from my messiness, from all the gray clouds in my head. I guess the charade wasn’t faring as well as I’d thought. It wasn’t her fault. Partially it was just a downtrodden time, another time to regroup. The other tiny part of weight in my soul was that I was still all eaten up by what Daniel had said to me a week earlier.
The night he’d come over, Daniel confessed that he was basically terrified of my child. He was just being honest, but it made me so sad, destroyed even. I didn’t know how to put him at ease or alleviate his concern. I cried in the bathtub for three nights in a row because I felt so secluded in trying to raise this child and date these timid, fearful men at same time. I’m fooling myself if I act like I didn’t have a blast with Daniel. I did. I have never woken up laughing so hard before in my life. I just believe him to be an insensitive bed hopper and I get defensive when people treat my life condition and my motherhood like it’s something to fear, like it’s a negative, only to excuse their own addictions. I could write him off, the mother in me was pleading to never talk to him again. But I kept dreaming about him. I don’t fall madly in love with every man I dream about, but it makes me far more sensitive to them, more willing to climb unsteady limbs to chance the strength of the wind. The dreaming and my mommy hood are my only weaknesses. Most of the generic tards trying to pass for men don’t spend enough time with me to ever become a liability or even understand what’s important in the scheme of my life.
It’s such a raw and ravaged topic; single parenthood. I managed to conceal Aurora from Joshua for two whole months. Once he found out about her, once it was all out in the open--- he never came back. It shreds me still; it pulls the most fragile pieces of me utterly apart. I tried to talk to Daniel peacefully, as directly as possible, to prevent the exact same thing from happening. I was well reserved in opening up around him anyway. But I begged him to not let Aurora be the reason he avoided me altogether. It was probably a waste of air. Maybe he just didn’t really like me to begin with. Maybe he found too many soot stains on my body from all the other places men had burned me. Maybe I tasted like a leftover turkey to him. After all, I was just a chew toy and Aurora was just a convenient excuse to write me off as another pair of tits. It infuriated me, for Aurora’s and my sakes. I can’t even keep steady male friends anymore; I sacrificed most of them one at a time because they were all weird with my being a young mom.
Daniel was a lighthearted man, a man of bold humor with a pinch of sweetness. But the no-nonsense grown up in me, wanted to tell him to grow a pair and face me so I could knock the womanizing scamp right out of his deranged ego. It was only destined to destroy him. Being an irresponsible dick swinger could be seen as a far worse way of life than my way. There is nothing unsightly about being an independent mother with a child, making sacrifices to care for another. It’s not a negative arrangement by any standard of God. But men who are blind in one eye cannot see that Aurora saved and blessed my life, I simply would not be alive if I hadn’t conceived her. And those MILF hunting men wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to use me and fuck me and pour me out like bad milk if that child hadn’t been born. You’d think they’d stick around long thank her properly.
If I were still enjoying all of the MILF use and single serving consumption, it would be one thing, but it’s reached a point of sheer humiliation, a point of retaliatory contempt even. I would never venture so far as to take this out on a single man, oh the contrary, it’s the case by case basis that I am far too tolerant of. Only now I’m exceedingly leery of entangling happiness and laughter with types like Daniel. I tried to talk to him about all this one night when he was sober. I invited him to return and be mellow with me, to be sober with me. He did not want to give me the clear-minded time of day.

I remember when I was twelve years old, traveling up in Canada on a church mission trip. A few of the boys my age began to swoon over these blond Canadian girls. I made the mistake of expressing discontent, maybe it was teenage jealousy, who knows. Jealousy is something most reasonable people outgrow. I guess I hadn’t accomplished that feat back then. About those Canadian blond geese though, I recall posing the inquiry to the guys, “Why do you like them? You don’t even know them. We are leaving Canada tomorrow and you are never going to see those girls again in your life.” A mean, portly looking boy put me in my place real fast.
“What makes you think we’d like you over them, Jessi? What is there to like?” He started laughing as he scanned his dirt obstructed eyes down my lanky body and then slapped snobby high fives with the other boys. In what I interpreted as compulsory cruelty, they laughed at me for nearly five minutes. In the midst of a church trip, no less, a net that’s supposed to be free of this very type of exclusion and mockery. I looked down at my then very flat chest, cringed in my own awkward skin and became flushed with embarrassment. I wanted to piss myself away and crawl into my flat-chested grave and die. Before I died though, I wanted to swat the beam out of that fat kid’s eye.

Such corporeal downgrades have produced the very repeating question I’ve been confronted with throughout my life; “Why would anyone ever love you?” Um hello, I’m Mary. Does the phrase “love one another as He has loved thee” not mean anything on this slut, visual stimuli junkie of a planet? Moreover, the question should be, “Why not love perfect strangers and imperfect friends when you have the chance to do so? Would it be too nice or strenuous to bother befriending people who know the face of rejection well?”

As Aurora’s miniature feet slapped up the wooden stairs and entered my room, none of these venomous memories, male hang ups, or singular fringes mattered anymore. There she was---the one person who had loved me unquestionably her entire life; Aurora, the Princess of Angels. I sat up in bed and greeted my winged darling.
“Hi baby! Are you and Dina having fun?” I extended my arms and waited maternally for her to hug me.
“Yes Mommy, we are going to go into the backyard and play on the swings, I just wanted to let you know I was back from Dina’s house.” She wrapped her little arms around my ribcage and squeezed me. I kissed the top of her head and ran a few fingers through her long brown hair. She leaned up and gave me a quick smack of a kiss before spinning back around and dashing out the door. I didn’t have much time to breathe or thank God before the phone summoned me with a standard ring. I checked the caller ID. It was Daniel. Oh God, what does he want now? I thought he was done tasting this mermaid and went onto greener seas to sample the flavors of plainer fish.
“Hello.” I said, not even trying to disguise the tone of defeat in my voice.
“Don’t go anywhere I’ll find you!” He announced in a bad female imitated voice, trying to sound all like that psycho redheaded chick in Wedding Crashers. He had previously insinuated I was like her, I guess because I have red hair or because I was affectionate with him when he came around. I didn’t know if he was joking for the sake of making me laugh or trying to have a laugh at my expense.
“Oh God.” I moaned and rolled four circles with my eyes. “What is it Daniel?” I asked impatiently.
“I’m better than salt.” He bragged at warp speed.
“Huh?” I pretended to be unenlightened. What a nosy stalker.
“You heard me. I said I’m better than salt.” I sensed a tiny hint of injury in his voice, concealed by gallant pride.
Drawing from the psychic well, I splashed him with my retort. “Yeah if you’re better than salt, then I imagine I probably ‘like you better than you like me.’ Sound familiar jackass?” That arrogant, stringy blond headed douche had accused me of liking him more than he liked me, I heard him pompously running on in his dull attempt to fluff his blond hair into the next drunk fling to fruit town. He had telepathically attacked me to death saying that shit. Every split second he wasted thinking of me, he was all “She likes me more than I like her.” The fuck I do, guess again and reverse that you abominable horse head.
“I’m just teasing you Jess, lighten up. “ I could sense his face soften as he smiled in the mirror of his own conceit. “So when are you going to let me take you out to lunch Jess?” He continued.
“When you become blind to every other pair of tits walking around in the world and learn the meaning of forsaking all others.” He didn’t want to take me out. He was just toying with me again. Squish, squeak, squish.
“So next week is good? “ He chuckled like a goat.
“Next lifetime when you reincarnate as a blind man, maybe.” I cracked hotly. I uncrossed my eyebrows and tried to be serious with him. Not an easy thing to do with the Vince Vaughn wanna-be. “Listen, all joking aside, I’m glad you called.” I cleared my throat. “I had a dream about you.” I said in the voice of the psycho chick from Wedding Crashers.
Daniel roared into laughter. “Here we go again, you and those pretentious dreams.”
Watch it pal, the dreams are one of the most important pieces of my life’s work, don’t knock it till you try it. Guarding appreciation for what makes you happy and garners satisfaction isn’t merely a preventive way to survive; it’s just sensible and wise and rewarding. Daniel’s jerk syndrome is somewhat threatening to that ideal. I’m quite sure he’s winsomely determined to suck the respect out of my panties and drain the integrity out of my naked dreams and then leave the scene of the crime.
“The dreams are only pretentious when your icky face shows up.” I spat. I despised him for being closed minded and only regarding his own stupid interests, memorizing bad movie lines being one of his dumb hobbies. If I’d thought he’d actually read up on the mechanics of the dream state, I might care what he thinks. I don’t. I was just trying to help him, do him a soul favor by relaying the damn dream message. I have a “don’t shoot the messenger” type of gig with my abilities, but most people are too blockheaded and self-seeking to be receptive. Fortunately I don’t give up easy.
He started singing some bad rap song to try to throw me but I swiftly cut him off. “Just hear me out before you go all American Idol. I was dreaming and I saw you riding on a skateboard. You were right outside the cabin of a boat I was in. Seeing a skateboard in dream can mean one is attempting to dodge life’s burdens and ignore difficult issues. My guess is, funny man, that you use your fine potty humor to avoid the seriousness of everything.” The silence greeted me. I thanked the silence, tossed the image of Daniel’s sharp blue eyes out of my mind and continued. “The other thing, well…” I hesitated. I had seen us in bed together but I didn’t want to disclose that part of the dream. I quickly figured out a way to omit the minor detail.
“Errr…I saw us looking up at this beautiful pine ceiling and then one of the pine planks fell out, landing right between us. In the dream I said to you, ‘That must be a sign, I’m working on the wood floors, only my floors are oak and this is pine.’ We said ‘pine’ simultaneously. Pine in dreaming pertains to natural abilities and one’s bonded relationship to nature and naturally inherent talents.”
I was uneasy and dumbfounded by seeing such meaningful symbolism in Daniel’s dream presence. It made me feel way too close to his higher self, close in a way I knew I could never fully admit to him now--especially because in the dream, we were sprawled out in bed together when the pine had appeared. Bed means intimacy. I felt like the images and impressions signified how natural he and I are when we’re together. I wanted to eat that page out of my dream journal and never give it a second thought. I will be damned to a chauvinist's worst version hell if I ever like that clownish, blond nut job more than he likes me.