I watched in grim disbelief the greatest of dreamers be cast into a snake pit &succumb victim of venom hiss & become a numb prisoner to the dreamless ___________________________ People are born to be free to escape the past to defy to lead to be strong to divinely intervene to rebel to go against their captors ___________________________ Drifting in and out of sleep still fighting to climb the staircase of dreams _________________________________ (c) 2013 Jessica Robbins

I remember what I was like as a pure and wholesome child before I ever knew what it meant to like boys. I was always relatively smart, teacher's pet, the first child in the classroom with her hand raised with the correct answer every time. I was more friendly with the teachers than with most of the other students and I preferred it that way, it made me feel more grown up. I always thought the other children were too childish somehow and not as evolved or devoted to the learning process as me. The more mentally challenged boys used to sit around me, not because they liked me or thought I was cute, but to cheat off of my papers on tests and writing assignments. The first boy I ever really noticed was this kid in the eighth grade. He was much taller than the other kids, he was like a Viking, he had raven black hair and blue eyes and skin fairer than arctic tundra. I was seated directly across from him in history everyday and I would just stare stupidly at his eyes and his jet black hair for the entire hour of fourth period History class. He captivated me in a way I didn't understand...he looked familiar to me the first time I ever saw him...a recognition that arouses you in the most secretive part of your soul. I had never kissed a boy at that point...I'd barely even spoken to one...I was shy...I still am...I still barely associate with men and don't think I am cut out to be around them much of the time as I am accustomed to men taking love or emotional feeding and then leaving and vanishing...never saying... never waking...just the leaving and abandoning and making excuses or dishing out a lie to spare my feelings. Not then...I hadn't had the trust raped out of me at that point...I was virginal...I was fourteen...I never rushed into boys or kissing...but I remeber staring pathetically at that kid with the mysteriously blue eyes and angular fair features for hours praying he might notice I exist and at least raise his eyebrow at me in approval. We rode the same bus home. He used to sit across from me on the bus. Sometimes he would throw crumbled up pieces of paper at my head and then rapidly fold his arms and start looking up and whistling, moving his eyes to and fro across the top of the bus, pretending he'd hadn't done it. I smiled inside but pretended to be irritated with him. I don't know if he ever liked me so much as he just liked to antagonize me because there was no other girl within the radius to annoy...he used to talk about one of my blond friends all the time...he would ask me about her and her interests or if we were hanging out on the weekends on the bus rides home...the rides became longer and more unpleasant whenever he would persist with the line of interrogation... which upset me because I thought he was just trying to make a good impression on me because he liked her and I suppose he favored blonds in spite of my peculiar shade of strawberry hair and I was merely some kind of haplessly awkward, clumsy, leftover displaced redheaded clown with bad skin to him that he simply liked to tease and taunt on the bus because he knew I liked him and it made him feel powerful to mess with my feelings but never be with me for real or hold me or be close to me or care enough to stay around after the bus ride home from school was over.

I went to visit my grandmother's grave on a cold fall crisp day. There was no one left for me to talk to. She always had a way of understanding, of coddling my pain, of making me happy effortlessly. When I was with her I felt the world was safe as she only strived to make me feel loved and devoted herself to serving my family. My Grandfather always used to call her, "Honey," so before long, all of her grandkids would affectionately refer to her as, "Grandma Honey." She was a sweet woman, just the same, so full of grace, so demonstrative of faith. She had an abundance of love and resourcefulness and determination to exhibit life in a way I don't know if I have ever been able to express entirely to another living soul. She was married to my grandfather for 53 years...they were giddy and flirtatious and affectionate and considerate and uplifting and eternally in the kind of love that makes you wish you knew it for your own or could put it in a bottle and sell to drink and taste, just to experience the rich lasting flavor. I stood by her grave all alone as the wind batted at my face and tossed my hair behind me. None of the flowers on any of the graves appeared to be real, they were all silk and collecting dirt and debris from being unattended and neglected for so long. I tried to picture my grandmother's face as I'd seen it in dreams after she'd passed...so fine and inviting and full of truthfulness and that knowing grin, confident she always had. I wondered how my grandfather had made it so many nights without the pureness of her gentle love. She was untouched by desires of the world...she never asked for much....she never wanted to travel with my grandfather...she liked to stay at home tending to her garden and cook and sew and read all day. The times she would write, she wrote only love stories about her love for my grandfather, some of which were not truly matured and adequately compelling until she was composing them at his hospital bed when he was 79 years old and in the midst of open heart surgery. She jotted down every recollection she had of their life together, as well as kept track of his condition and progress as they slowly upgraded his condition and stabilized him. I've never seen a more loyal human being. They were never harsh on each other...I never heard or saw them ever speak an unkind word to one another...I don't think an unkind word ever went out of my grandmother's mouth and my grandfather has gotten onto me several times for using foul language just for saying "hell." He would edit my poems for me and change any curse words to "heck" or "shoot" or "dang it." I don't feel like writing anymore...I don't feel like living anymore...I just want to go home and be done here and be back with my grandmother. I'm tired of people who don't know me prying into my life and attacking me and putting words in my mouth and trying to pass the love and poetry in my heart off as their own. I don't know how the person who sees my dreams could ever stay with a terrible excuse for a human being like that after he wakes up from our love... I do not know anymore, I don't want to stick around to wonder any longer.... I am tired, I am fed up, I am done being patient with it. There is a difference between being a healthy person who writes and creates your own work and then being a very sick person who tries to pass other people's love poems off as their own just to keep their broken joke of a loveless marriage going and some people do not know the difference.

I don't know what love is left in the world for me.... Heaven has opened its arms completely.... summoning me by the sound of my own song..... to come home and hang my harp.... the only residence my soul belongs.... So what love left in this world is there for me? .... Nothing to cradle me, not even the adulterer of my dreams .......... They judge me by my past.... they judge me by my hair..... they compare me to other people ..... just because i am the red of a flare ..... they judge me and keep me from my own dreams.... severed and torn from seam to seam.... no, no ..... even my own dreams do not want or love me.... even my own dreams find something wrong with me .... my dreams of mutual knowingness and peace.... thought lust in adultery was worth more flattery.... than tiny, pathetic, unlovable meaningless me ..... what dream could this be to me?.... A dream of despair and emptiness ..... of being ignored, forgotten, and cast aside .... as i make way, I pray to die .... i will be alone, i will be comfortless .... i will reside by myself.... in green weepy mists..... for there is no promise of a future.... in an empty nighttime kiss .......................... -Jessica

My walk alone with God is coming to a close and now for a funeral decorated with a mourning rose before my time, beyond my time i was here before the same life in another happy score was it more than enough or was is satan calling my bluff i couldn't pull it together once the road became too rough and now satan is calling my bluff -Jessica

My ears are burning but my heart is always cold
I'm still young but I've traveled through his old
So many times I put my life on hold
waking and shaking
with visions of reciprocating
I've made mistakes
but there is no mistaking
his love is worth waiting for

I could go anywhere
If only I knew where to go
For a while, I thought he was my home
second chances may never come
after my volcano explodes

she wandered in here and stole my everything
the expressions I'd written
just to keep her fake ring
she can deny it
but my face will never hide it
and I'm sighing
as she's lying
while inside
the most beautiful love I've known is dying

-Jessica

"For whosoever believeth in Me shall not perish but have everlasting life." ~Jesus

Love is a constant lesson that can only be lived one day and one dream at a time...

Respect is a state of mind and a means of self-worth and the only respect you ever need is the respect from your God and your own lovable self. You never need anyone's respect to serve God to the best of your ability or however you feel called! If you know you are honest and in the right, march straight ahead with a happy heart and God shall surely shine His light on you. ____________________________________________________ Remember, having the respect of other humans is not your fuel or your final reward and it never will be. Attaining the respect of your peers is not a true source of satisfaction. That kind of fulfilment can only come from God's love, from loving others very deeply, and from the cycle of spiritual completetion. You are a part of the puzzle that is being constructed to make the picture of God's love--perfect. Don't let anyone stop your from drawing and expressing your portion of the art! ______________________________________________________ I am here to express something I saw in my dreams that no one else can express except for me. What are the things in your life that only you can express? Your expression is just as relevant, important, and essential as any well-known artist and if anyone tells you otherwise, keep them out of your inner circle. You are not going to get where God wants you to be if you listen to the destructive poison some people try to put into your ears. ____________________________________________________ I am the master of myself and it is not up to anyone else to decide for me how I master myself. The "respect" of this world is no gem or bauble and I do not worry myself mad in trying to win respect from anyone. I have learned this along the way-- the people who truly love you, are going to love and respect you-- unconditionally, no matter what you do or say! The people who have learned the lesson to love deeply because it covers and heals a multitude of sins-- will still love you, respectfully, regardless of what you have ever done or said! This is the foundation of God's love and to be under the law of this love means to learn from it.

It's hard to ask for help when for so long, I wanted to be the help, to serve without rewards. I can live on my own, but I find it hard to get to the next level on my own. I can pray, all on my own, but I never want to dream alone or be without his love. I think about him every day, the expressions on his face, the ways he made me laugh. All of the times he's ever come back. I think about what it's like to have found a friend and learned to love him in such a way, that it didn't take a drop of material to facilitate. I cry every night I am awake without him. I struggle and suffer through the days and then weep myself to sleep so we can be together again in our dreams. Usually, he's still there waiting for me. I've tried to let it go, to not know, to numb myself, to blow my heart to hell, but I can't forget how much he means to me. We had a oneness of purpose somehow that didn't require any questions because when I am with him I always know and he's the only place I want to be. We didn't just finish each others sentences, we finished each others thoughts and visions. I know not what more completion I shall ever find in life. I came home and vowed to move on, but my heart is stubborn and my purpose is out of stagnant sorts if I can't fall asleep and hug him like that and let him know how much I care for him.

I fell through Gods hands and flew. Flew like only angels can. Yet, I am not an angel nor much of a man. I tried to teach him, but I don't think he wants to be taught. He looked at me like I was the crucifed Son of God. He doesn't believe with the conviction and trepidation that I do. But I made him change and grow even thoguh for the longest time, he refused to. He's a lone old crow that let his divinity go, while drawing nearer and nearer to people who do not give life, but extinguish it with tangible things and double edged restraints that can only be complied with while he is awake. I squeezed the heaven that I gave and let it die when my eyes found the light. No sooner did I unearth, a liberated internal church. A place where children gather and laugh and delight in crafts and games to help the time pass. Before the world eats them.

I ended my relationship with Adam last weekend. I feel relieved and vacant at the same time. Towards the end, he would come at me with this hostility and I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. He kept taking his stresses out on me and was constantly argumentative. He learned the hard way why it is better not to pick a fight with me. I remember early in the relationship, he turned around and blew up at me just for making a suggestion to put ice in the cooler before we loaded the boat. When he yelled at me like that, I knew that I would never be able to marry him. Sometimes I feel I am like a fragile butterfly that is only meant to live so long, just for people to admire fluttering in the distance, but never truly tame or capture.

I should go away. Somewhere to a place beyond appearances and feelings of displacement and yearn. A hammock where I can rest and be alone. Stretched limits of blackness, the unknown eyes of swirling stars. Just escape the earth bound storms. Reposed in formless form. And never to think on lust or exclusion or scorn. -Jessica I don't know why the format is not cooperating in here. I guess no one and nothing wants to cooperate anymore. I don't know what I am doing down here anymore, my life serves me better with stillness and sleep. I am severed from humanity and embraced by God and his people have forgotten how to love, and only taunt and mock.

I gave you fleeting looks. and went on the kinds of cringes and binges you despise. as you bent me over once or twice. consumed the liquor. that once poured your vibrant life. before you became the root of all hell. a torment I see and know inside. when your fickle cock starts to swell. like hurricane tides at sun rise. rolling in sounds of sex. squishy but ever serene. like we promised in the dream. that we won’t die to each other. Ever. let death for us be reluctant and shy for we meet again night, by baited night in heaven’s shifty eye. baby how was I to realize the apparition of your love, all mine was my sinister angel in disguise. how can the one who hurts and curdle spite be that same old gloomy ghost I see with oiling eyes? eyes of love, eyes of fate eyes bluer than a frosty lake. this is the man God sent to kiss my fate? this is the man I love so much to hate? then give me such duplicity over and over in one more night of our mistakes. he used to stand tall bore a peculiar bred gall in his marooned skull the hardened place bound by mossy walls but now he slouches like a lark and when he sees me, he bends me stark and lets his filmy white film fall on my holy wet arc The End. xoxox Love, Jessica Leigh (c)

"If the world hates you, know that it hated me before it hated you." -Jesus
John 15:18

"Dread not, neither be afraid of them. The Lord your God goes before you, He shall fight for you." -Deuteronomy 1:29

"Many shall be purified and made white and tested, but the wicked shall do wickedly; and none of the wicked shall understand, but the wise shall understand." -Daniel 12:10

"But if I do the works of my Father, though you believe me not, believe the works that you may know, and believe that the Father is in me, and I in Him." -Jesus John 10:38

"For I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of Him that sent me." -Jesus John 6:38

 

This is what a week of swimming does for me! One week! I just had a birthday, swam for over 2 hours as a present to myself, but despite another year on the calendar, I feel healthier and more youthful than ever! Off to get my run in before I have to pick up Aurora from school! xoxo

I got back into the pool and started swimming again. My first love- swimming. It's such a blessing to be able to approach it on my own terms at this stage of my life. The water is always there for me when I decide to come back to it and in the chlorinated water, I am free to blissfully tune out all of the other static and background noises of the world. Stillness doesn't evade me when my soul is submerged in water. I feel how much God loves me when I'm swimming.

Life isn't supposed to be an easy race. One of my Edgar Cayce readings said, "Those who would gain the greater, suffer the more."

I don't dwell on the suffering. I might be too detached from it at times. Swimming releases me from my suffering by channeling everything that is perfected and balanced in me. It offers me an order, peace, and holistic solitude in a way which nothing else ever will. Adam may never understand why I had to quietly walk away and resume my life, but once I was back in the water where I belong, I felt only gratitude for the events that have all lead up to now.

Self-understanding is a gift that gives your soul wings. In the water, I understand that I am resilient and humble and determined and eternally vivacious and playful. The critically important detail of my life is that I have never given up. Any confrontation or trial, I have met with rectitude grace from my Jesus and I always manage to dust myself off and uncover a fuller, more adept version myself, mingling in the plight of destiny.

One of the earnest lessons I've learned thus far is that you must be careful with whom you share and entrust your dreams with. Your dreams are yours and that makes them sacred. The people I dearly love in my life, may never understand or relate to my dreams. Those who have tried to graze on my soul, have raised the dream topic with me as a way of creating false intimacy or condemning my expertise. I'm fiercely guarded against such intrusions at this state. I always say that if people do not wish to learn from you, they should peacefully depart from you and let you be. Jesus even, tried to shield himself from the naysayers who doubted and tried to derail Him from His work. If he heard their doubts or harsh feedback, he showed them the door and didn't allow them to witness the miracles he performed. I learn more from this example every single day.

When I was little, it was my mom's dream for me to go to the Olympics to compete in swimming. Granted, I love swimming, but swimming with so much pressure from parents and coaches became stressful and when anything in life becomes a source of stress, it steals the pleasure and enjoyment right out of it. I used to compete because it was fun, but when people began dying and I began drinking to dilute my depression, swimming was no longer fun and so I walked away from the sport.

When I didn't live up to my mom's dream for me, she branded me a failure and pretty much told me I would never amount to anything if I didn't swim. That was her dream for me. I wanted to make it to the Olympics, but I didn't want to sacrifice having a life outside of the pool and swimming was my only life for a long while, which bred a certain contempt for it. I did my best to nurture the Olympic dream for a while, most of my young life, until one day I grew up and realized-- That had never been a dream I planted in myself for myself, the fantasy of gold medals hanging around my neck and deals with Nike and Speedo--those were my Mom's dreams for me.

Don't let people project meaning into your dreams or send you chasing dreams that were never really yours. You are the only one who can define what the dreams mean to you and how to apply them to your life. The dreams are miracles you create and just like Jesus didn't let everyone watch him work the wonders, don't let people know the miracles of your divine dreams. I have a beautiful dream life that has offered me love and growth and challenges and a wealth of learning and I learned the hard way, why it's best not to reveal these personalized dreams to curious outsiders. Dream haters are real in the world. The do not want your dreams to become realities and they will say or do anything to stop you from manifesting your dreams. Don't share your dreams or give them away to people who are not equipped to receive or hear or cherish your dreams. Let them be between you and God if you have to, but you must safeguard against the dream haters who seek to deter the living dreamers from fulfilling the prophecy of the dreams.

if I asked you to leave
would you come protect me?
muster the capability
to fulfill my dreams
and be the only man for me

angel, all we need
is a little bit of mystery
and if you’d only ask
for a taste of simplicity
I would be your everything

I never thought
you would come to me
challenge me
baby readily
I know, I know
we were meant to be
be my everything

the highs and lows
are everlasting
in this chance we hold
I know, I know
you could be my everything

You revealed to me
the former grief
ever so deeply
dreaming away
in reprieve
the possibilities
the higher rings
you could be my everything

you could be the one
God sent to me
the man I was born to love
the angel of my dreams
I’d take away your hurt
remove the beams
eye to eye
I know, I know
you could be my everything

(c) Jessica Robbins