.
To feel things as deeply and as multi-layered as you do-- instantly and all-together, at once.. is to live a life that is far too often right on the edge of temptation, right on the edge of falling. The Art of holding on to who it is that you are, is to never betray that beautiful Self of yours.. whether in word, or deed.. at any given time. Ok it is to  f e e l  things as deeply as your luscious body and spirit so fully can, but as you already so clearly know.. certain "acting on's" can create such havoc within and to the things (people) you find important.

  .   .

That being said, a form of self-betrayal also is to deny yourself the beautiful Gift of fully feeling at all.. in order to help keep a peace that will forever come at the cost of who you truly (fully, within yourself) are.. even if it were to be acted out all alone on the edge of your bed.. or even against the back of a couch.  In the world of Magic and Deep Deep, Beautiful Feeling, there is always a place for the win-win within you, and also within the world that you currently live in, over there.
You are an artist.  An artist  F E E L S.    
The Universe will always, always help you find a way.
Always. xox

  .   .   .

You are far too strong and stubborn to ever fully give up. That, I know. There is also a  'weakness'  within you that hinges around the word "Vulnerability" when the Beautiful world of Magic overwhelms and then truly overtakes you. Your spirit's receptors are far too deeply intertwined into the gorgeous molecules of that lusciously-Responding body of yours. That makes your Path (your "Portion") that much more difficult to endure. There is a tremendous aloneness (loneliness) in living a life that has to so often be  subdued,  solely due to the consequences within others that truly do not understand. What you need most of all.. is simply to be Understood.. yes, Kid.. within all of that seemingly tremendous complexity of feelings and experiences.. your brilliant complexity of mind.. and the succulence of body that so gorgeously feels.. Everything.
It is not a "Curse", young Love.
It is a beautiful, beautiful Blessing.

  .   .   .   .

Surround yourself (if you can) with those who understand (because they struggle within the "Deeply Feeling" world as much as you). It is in no way an act of unfaithfulness (in any way whatsoever) to fully feel. Finding for yourself the most beautiful of Releases within those Moments of deep feeling is the beginning of your way 'out'.. and (so very lusciously),  the way through. You are so very worth your own fighting for.. in order to hold on to every single part of who it is that you are.

Every single beautiful part
(and those within you that you currently "think" are not beautiful)

Feb 27


"Dear, complete and total *******, M Vogel:

Your account will be back to normal on Oct 27.
Because our moderators have reviewed and agreed with the members' concerns about your work, this suspension cannot be reconsidered.

Please read FAQs for more information..


Why did this happen?
'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago


Please try to get in line with the quality and moral character of all our other writers on the site, or kindly ****."

Love,
HP Moderation
(site de-scumbagging division)


"Hmmm..?"
~M Vogel

youtu.be/uXEUW792etk



"umm..
I created this for children;; Children... understand?"
~Elliot

youtu.be/54OYS_mZlBE

You are a tremendous overthinker
that's for sure. Taking a person like
you on.. with all your chaos
is no small task.
  In order to do that,
I have to take care of myself..
in order to keep from being
pulled down.. or pulled into
your chaotic whirlwind.
  So I create parameters of protection
through my words sometimes
when we talk.

You are not an easy person to take on.

  There are few people in the world
that are even able to truly take on a person
like you, within any kind of depth.
  That is how chaotically traumatized
the inside of your whole beautiful
body is. And somehow you take it
personally when I try to bring
structure in,.  as though you're three
years old,
  and you take regular grown up talk
  as being some kind of threat.
  But.. you are fragmented  and ripped
to shreds on the inside  by those
who truly brought harm
instead of good when you were little.  
  From that place inside of you, a
anything feels like judgment.
Anything feels like it's trying to control you
or put things inside you.

I know that.. and I still love you

  Loving a person in your condition
requires a certain level of self protection.
It's like I have to tie a
special rope around myself when I
jump into your world..  so I can be
pulled back out.
  For me..
The structure of my own words are that rope.
  It is the only way I can love you deeply
and enter into your absolutely broken world
  Please try to understand..
even though it scares you..

Just how much I need that

  If you are able to do that,
then I think you might even be able
to actually love me.
I did not come to steal,
or control..
  .. or fix

I came to be there for you

within all of your broken chaos

The question,

within its very core nature ..
almost  solely hinges around
our own  deeply hidden,
internal self-betrayal:

In the creatively-covered up  alliances
we make..

In order to prop up, the parts of us
that refuse to respond  in any growing,
self-sacrificing way, that would lead
to the true growth of change.

And so..  within our own,
internally/externally-manufactured,
form of consent,  comes
a smile-washed, deep contempt
for anything,  and everything

that would (or could)  expose

Just how deeply we have
sold  ourselves out
through the ultra-fine art,
of alliance.

And like a lamb to the slaughter
are those who choose to unknowingly
(or with agenda-based blinders)
Love, defend,  and support
those  who use  such an alliance
to prop themselves up,

from falling over.

But the Universe..
within its deep ache for us--
It never stops asking of us
the Primal question

We can respond  through
the suffering  of the self

(leading to true growth  and change)

Or make alliance with Death
as a way of short-cutting the answer.

--it is,  how very
tremendously cute you are,
and how your little stinkerlings
climb all over me;  their
trusting little Spirits drinking in all things, Daddy

And within you, dwells  all of the
fullness of their childlike hope, ******
And within them dwells hope's fire--
aflame within each little set of eye's
sparkle

Yet, beautiful Mommy--

There is a brutality, embedded deeply into
God's Love
that all but compels me to call you out
on almost seemingly-random things:
things that push up (almost fiercely)
against all things within you, stubborn
but they benefit..

                       they benefit.

And you fight against me-- even to your own detriment,
and I am reminded  then of the same fight shown--  emanating
from a young,  forming child's spirit:


           "No"   is the first word that should
                                          form freely
            within the mouth of a young spirit,
                                    aching deeply...

           within the depths  of the loved self
           for the true meaning of the word,  

                                           Autonomy.

An­d there is no loss  of love
in their little movements  towards separateness

And there is no price to pay for speaking the truth in love
nor, is there a payment owed, for speaking it  in defiance
and separateness, even to the point of  eventual separation
need never have to come at the cost of love--

the truly-loved, freely formed, self
is a beautiful, magical thing to behold, indeed.


And your participation in to it all, little-one's sweet Mommy

is a celebration in itself.

When your worst horrors have come to pass
     and you did not die
and sleep  is actually a comfort,  
instead of a curse
Because dream-themes are no longer hauntings
but  instead,  flow in and out of consciousness
as random acts of grace
And the death that should be coming

becomes, instead
a replenishment of living cells--
a surprisingly-unexpected regeneration,  
this bracing for a Fall that never comes.

Winter is coming,

and this death, has a warmth
that will carry me through
And though the ground will be frozen soon,
there will be no death this year
above the frost line

But below,  in what is still warm
there will be a death,  that brings life--
encased in fear, yet floating within the midst
of a subterranean stream..  an ocean, of peace

Winter's chill is coming;  
there is a strange feeling in me
that tells me, I am ready.

If it ever becomes too much,
come and find me--

I'll be over here:
in the grass-covered prairielands--   waiting..  

like the catcher in the rye.

Within the  peace  that comes

  from a very,  Loved place;
there is an un-settling..

And, into what once felt secure
there enters a disturbance..
(a dark,  unholy-meddling)

((Yet, the painful growth that chaos
brings,  pierces the form of security
this fear-filled world is peddling.))

Feeling betrayed,  she now wants to run
    but  instead,  believes..


                      ..And,  against all odds:
         she draws from the love of God
               in order  to help protect her

                from the very love,  of God.

You need the kind of real that in its utter realness..
becomes a living form of fantasy

Something so real that it spells out  the word
    "Unreal"
     in everything that it does and says..

A reality  that is in  perpetuality,
               a forever-living fantasy


There is a condition of the heart, mind and spirit,
that is truly able to do that.
Nothing is lost within the process;

   And everything there ever was within it..
   becomes its own beautiful form of Gain

If I can so easily see (and so deeply love)

both sides of your multifaced self, don't you think
you also can start at least try seeing  and loving
yourself as equally beautiful (simultaneously, so) parts,
who's congruent sum so beautifully make within you,
  the whole?

Look at you shoot and scoot (run back and hide)
after never even (until now) having a taste of being seen
(and yes, Babe.. loved) for who it is that you truly are
( a beautifully.. goobery, complex sum of the whole)..
growing,  as you little by little embrace the truth,
and in doing so, have the broken-into-shards ,
tainted perspective within your trauma-stricken mind
become slowly rebuilt  and renewed  

    into an accurate picture of the true you..
Even if that picture is conveyed back to you  
as I hold the mirror's reflection up to you
(a reflection that your beautifully.. at times, open heart
paints upon  innerwall linings of my heart-infused soul)  

and then you admittedly (your beautiful honesty, again)
jet back into your world of daily distractions..
    So I say to you, beautiful girl..

It is you that chose to reveal to me your true self
in a way that I could so easily grasp  within all of who I am
as I struggled to keep myself from truly falling in love
with your gorgeously-blatant honesty..
  so I ask you once again--
Why would you so beautifully choose to  paint
your true self upon the inside of a man
that you knew and believed could actually  convey
the utter and beautiful reality
of that incredible picture back to you:
   but do it in such an unholy, sneaky way
   as to be able to bypass any and all of your intricate,
   security (survival) based defense system
   in a way that the true view of you could (and can)
   actually get through?

You fear the congealed congruency  of the truth
of your own consolidated glory,
   as if you are forced to live within the resignation
   that the  true  parts within you
   cannot co-exist  equally and simultaneously
   within you at the same time,
   without the (feared) unbearable tension
   and anxiety within you

    causing your own spontaneous annihilation.

But still, young Beautiful...
You  showed  me  you,  anyways.

You did not do it because you hate you,
that we can both agree on..
But the manufactured (created) you
has a whole world of relation (its own form of 'connection')
   built around  the you  that feels safe inside
   if the presented image to that world
               remains loved and cherished
But also, good as people that they are..  they find you..
   (you,  who so well emanates a self that congeals
                                with their emanated self).

..So when you enter into a room  
that you can truly breathe (as your true self)  in--
As you prepare to exit its beautiful doors,
you almost have to (temporarily) sever all there is of you
that you have so beautifully and tangibly painted (imprinted)
upon the insides of all of who it is that I am.

You are beautiful within your entirety.
I am not intimated by it,  nor am I threatened
by the possibility of its beautifully shining glory
being 'stolen away' by another. The gift of it all to me
is that you have chosen to reveal your true self to me
   even though you very well  knew
   what it was going to cost you--
   (the stronghold within your manufactured self)
And so now,  here you are--
   shaking and trembling   within the
   unprotected tenderness of your own,  newfound Glory.

You feel it here within these four walls
like you have felt it in no other place on earth,
..So why would you want to betray yourself
by running and hiding back into your detachment?
It is horrifying to be seen and loved like this, I agree..
   But think of this...

What if what is seen and felt (Loved)
within the four walls of this private room
we are in together here,
is the true taste  and pieces of True reality,
and most all outside of this,
only continual extensions of 'the game'.
What if this right here is how life (love)
was truly meant to be experienced  and lived,

and most all other things out there..
just a well-built and contrived (machine) of distraction.

Let your own heart be your guide.  
You can sit and play my guitars
while you unfold so beautifully (as you so well do)
right in front of me. In turn..
and through day after day
of me being there for you like that,
your beautiful war-torn mind will slowly
(and then, quickly) become renewed.

It will all be about (and for) you..
and when you have had your fill,
you can punch me in the nose
for my having a hand  in plunging you
into "the horror" of it all,
   But you truly also for the rest of your life,
   will never be the same.

You are fascinating to me in all of your brilliant-minded,
gorgeousness. You are absolutely beautiful, kid.

This is what is truly real.  This.

I'm going to tell you something that you already know to be true,
but I'm going to say it anyways--

If either of my wives had half the ability to believe that you do,  you
and I would have never met, because I would still be happily married
and my heart's energy would be going towards her,  rather than here.  
Let your mind, and that gorgeous body of yours believe and think right now
whatever you need to in order to take sips of air in all of this difficulty,  

           but I know and see things much differently
      because I am not under the stress that you are.

Call me eccentric, old.. and whatever you need to so that you can
keep from getting ****** under in all of this mess that you are
feeling, but I will never stop seeing the things that are there for you..

and are yours to take hold of--
      within the parameters of your own giftedness.

He did not go far. How could he;
you were his everything.......

You love the concept of Parallel worlds..
his is now intangible--
no skin-clad temple to hold him down  
within the misgivings
and falleness,  that entails
all things fleshbound--
his illustrious spirit,  now encased  within
the utter boundlessness  of his
newly-dedicated housing of Prismatic Light.
This is now the new temple that contains
his eternal spirit..   and it is from
that impeccably-beautiful place,
that he now offers hope  
and petition without end..  on your behalf.
Face to Face, now..  his once,
deeply-aching spirit,  now finds
the perpetual Peace..  through true Resolve,
as he finds his neverending Encouragements,
now heading your way,  on the Wings of
what is now, no less than that of Unlimited Possibility--
    Raining down on to you..
    Reigning now in the Heavenlies,  

    no longer  diluted and misdirected
    by human agenda

And here you sit, beautiful girl--  Not seeing or feeling..
because you are still subject to the same  auspices
of falleness that eventually found its Unholy fruition
within his utter demise.  No longer subject to it all,
he is asking you to rise above it, also..
the prayers of a newly-recognized Saint--  petitioning
directly in to Love's very Ache..   asking
that the horror-built walls,   embedded
into your war-torn flesh  would come down,
no longer so devastatingly-thwarting  Love's deep
desire  to finally have the chance to  find
its beautiful  way into you..
Yet your out of control self-hatred  is hurting him--
almost as much as it is truly  hurting you.
The last thing your guilt-ridden spirit wants to  do
is cause him any more pain.  Feel his loving presence..
and you will also then begin to feel his deeply-Loving petition.
It is perfect.. as are you--  

    Once  you become separated
    from your hook-embedded, flesh.
He is There..
helping you to become able to have access to it,
   here.

That is where he is at.. that is what he is doing.
The Grace that he now so deeply embraces on your behalf,  will
slowly begin to buy you the internal freedom  that is necessary
to begin to become able to feel it all.  Throughout the years,
you have learned how to begin to believe.  If not,
you would have already blocked me again by now.
He is within the Realms of Magic, now.   You love Magic.
Feel him there.. as he truly now is..  and you will  begin
to learn,  through feel-- the things  in you
(that you so adamantly hold on to),
that are still hurting him.  Forgiveness..
from his Mercy Seat towards you.. is perpetual, and without end,
because he knows that you do not as of yet,  fully understand.

One day, you will.. and it will become to him, his greatest Joy.
It is not over. It is never over.. as long as that gorgeous,
war-torn heart still has a pulse in it.
Make sure that it will,  until you can feel..
and the Morning Sun will truly rise within you..  fully anew.  
Fully. Completely. Perpetually.
You will become the very glow  
that he already right now, sees in you.
You Love me just as much as you hate me.
Love's reason is here-- right here in these words.  You know
that it is all true. His spirit was far too beautiful  for the
pain-infused fleshtemple that previously contained it..
while he was here.  He left it for a better one..
one that is completely and fully, Perfect.

You can feel him far more often than your pain-wracked
heart and spirit will allow you to currently admit.
Perspective is everything, beautiful girl.
You love me for the glorious perspective that I am  able
to bring to you.
That is the only way that I want to be loved.
You  have been through enough.  
Lets get you two back together, through your  growing
ability to become able to see him..
and feel him...  as he is--
not as your obscure.. self-contempt, scarred view,
now only shadow-sees  him.  

You have work to do, beauty.
You are his exceedingly, Worthy Beloved.
There is so much,   so unfairly-attached to you..
that keeps you feeling  as if you are forever unworthy.

     He is 24/7 helping you.

That is what he does now..
and I can very much see why <3

How do I stop looking..
when do I let go?
Your need is my view
(my access to you)
and if and when   you
no longer need me..
well,
then I'll smile  a smile;
but until then,  I
would even
pull you to me as
my own, forever-
   if that is what you need.
And for that,
part of me wants to
                apologize..
but the better side of me
wants to say,

    you’re welcome.

Maybe all those things
you already understand  
from me
but one thing I know for sure--

if you keep moving towards the good
you are going to be
view-******* for life,

     in the best of ways.


     Oh--

     and you’re welcome.

I see you staring off into space,  your trajectory
aimed towards a specifically-patterned constellation.
I am only the launch tower--
providing stability, support
aiding in your refueling  and the replenishment of your supplies.
Star-patterned destinations are your calling
and, I am just the launch pad,  
and its ever accommodating tower.

They say that a rocket expends fifty
percent of its energy just clearing the tower;
It is the final destination:  
not the clearing of the tower,
that your heart needs most
and holding you firm,  I know that as you lift off
I will  even now  be tempted to
reach out with one of my ever-sustaining arms..
that I may touch your gorgeous tail section  
as you fly clear of me

But even in the doing of that,  
I would change your trajectory
and the constellations would never come to know you
nor you, them

I am just a tower, love..
a platform,  constructed solely  
to aid you in your newfound flight into freedom:
a tower  to love you
and hold you steady,  
with a finely-built strength

until you are finally clear
even,  of me.

All of those people around you, hoping just for a glimpse  of
something from the mental health care world
   that could give them even just one reason to stay

  .. And all around you  they are dying
     while you cater to your own, vain emptiness.

Credentialed now,  everyone loves you.
     And still  all around you,
     the ones you were meant to be here for, die.


**** your fake humility, oh empty one.
**** your fake friends, and self-serving peers.
**** your self centered, empty-souled vanity.

All around you, they are dying.
And will continue to die.  
     You were the one.


One behalf of all the fallen..
and those who sadly  will one day all alone, fall.
On behalf of them all:


     *******   Y O U.

She never left you.. ya know..

the little tootle-bird, in you.
I see her  every time you smile
and when you furl your eyebrows
in that cute little scowl.

You did this.

Clearly, while he was alive
your father's love for you, was beautiful.
I feel the depth of that truth
every day, with you..

Every. single. day.


Isn't it enough
that one beautiful soul left this world, far too early?
It need not be two.  I know I would have loved that man..
because I most certainly  love his daughter.

He never should have left here.

Or Chris..
Or Chester..
Or Tom..
Or Prince..

It doesn't need to be this way, girl--
Trying to draw from the world..
the need to be saved,  from the world

would ****  anybody.

When you're ready to pull the trigger
grab your geetar instead,  and call me
I will take you out.. into the most
back-assed of places

    And truly show
    your gorgeous, everything
    how to dance.

Yours is one of the most beautiful souls I have ever seen.
And enough about trying to exempt yourself
from your own true glory,

    through whatever, in the past
    you may think you have done.

Every single part of that dark cloud
                   is just a confession away.

That is what one loving friend  does for the other--
    He/she,  listens.
    The warm kisses  of sweet forgiveness
    are never-ending
Your Beautiful Everything,  speaks into my ears
loud and clear,  beautiful girl.

Never stop speaking

"Dig your claw-hands  into me"  said she..
'It is all so unbearable, you know"
Her chest,  ripped open..
such an ancient wound,  are those..

"Are those,  so slow to heal--
These ones   you've done to me..

And I.. I swear..  Dark..   looks like light
And Light,  so very dark

Strangely,  near you
         I feel the Spark

..From you, the Monster..
You know..  the one,  
         under my bed,

         Just waiting..
             waiting..

        waiting.

For me to slip..   to fall..
So you can what?  
        Crush my skull?

Grind me into  grist;
     Tho Unleavened..

     I will rise with you
     I now, know--

.. The dreaded  end
Is the beginning


    ..of all Beginnings."

Round,  wavewashed rocks
strewn upon a beach of sand
Becoming strong, granite cliffs
rising above an ever rolling sea
of tall grass, borne on wide-open prairie
drawing towards itself eagles of all kinds
and ocean-bound egrets, their bellies
filled, with fish
the windborne silts  of distant lands,
finding refuge in the crags
filling in the years, of ancient definition
and throughout aeons, of forming
and unforming within the wild
brutal winds:  grinding, pulverizing
granite, back down to pebble
majestic prairie, back in to sand..
and then, back down  into
windblown silt

now circling around the feet of a child,
(one that pokes at dead things  with a stick)

But within the silt, are the pebbles
and so, down on her knees  she forms
a pile with her hands.. an ancient burial mound,
stands up, and with a clap of her
little hands, wipes a millenia of dust away
stick, tucked under arm-- she walks away:

as silt-covered pebble, become  once again

Round,  wavewashed rocks
strewn upon a beach of sand
Becoming strong, granite cliffs
rising above an ever rolling sea
of tall grass, borne on wide-open prairie

Drawing towards itself eagles of all kinds
and ocean-bound egrets, their bellies
filled, with fish
(the wind borne silts  of distant lands,
finding refuge in the crags
filling in the years, of ancient definition....)

Stephan W

The sinking ship wasn't your life, my beautiful--
it was simply a series of messages, unfairly laid on you
so very long ago.. and in such a way
that they became a way of thinking;

    --and in and through them,   your mind..
      and also your life-view,  was formed.

And so, it wasn't one ship, whose porthole
you finally swam out of,   but many--
each time,  only after
  you had enough love  inside of you
  to be able to embrace the truth--
       ~that now told you that you had to exit the ship
       before it was going to take you down along with it~

It was love, that was able to show you
what was on the other side
and it was love that helped guide you to the surface
every  time you exited the ship
and each time you did, you developed a greater trusting
   of the process..

and each time you swam through the porthole
you looked that much more beautiful to me--

     Your beautiful face, glowing..
     Your gorgeous mouth, so willingly   pressed against mine
        so you could draw into your  own lungs
        the very air of mine that I breathed into you,
        as we both made our way up to the surface.

And slowly, in each ship that you exited,
your mind became more, and more renewed--
All the things that kept your mind and heart away from love
were the very things I would need you to
deal with before I could ever be with you

     or someone like you.

And so it was in my love for you
and desire for you to become whole..
and also, my deep contempt for the messages
that have been so unfairly laid on beautiful ones such as you
that have both  caused me to want to take the time  
to help you see..

That each ship who's furniture you were so tediously polishing
was in fact, sinking to the bottom of the sea..

But it was  you  that had to see it for yourself, Love--
in and through the view and understanding
that what you at one time found valuable and necessary
in its ability to keep you alive,
     now stood in the way of you taking in love--  
     the real thing.

So you see, love.. It couldn't have been just one ship..
but a whole series of ships--
and each one could only be exited once you had enough love inside..
and in truth, our bodies, (in their broken state of being) can only
take in as much love that the grace that we have been given
up to that point will allow..

Which is why the element of time is such an important thing,
and I consider it a great luxury that you and I were able
    to come back together
    time and time again--

               even when both of us thought every-thing was over.

I needed time to keep from continually throwing my phone(s) against the wall
(and out the window),
and you needed time to process what was coming towards you...
(and, also your anger at me)
     for pushing you too hard sometimes ..
     and other times being too harsh, or unfair..
     or from bringing too many of my own issues into the process.

But one thing for me I know for sure is true,
and that is every time you exited that porthole,
you became even more beautiful to me  than ever before
And, with-in the tenderness of your trust..
And the way you pressed your beautiful mouth to mine
as you took my air into your lungs.. as if your own..
     In the curve of your gorgeous hips, as your dress--
                                                          clingi­­ng to your skin..
in that warm, ocean water, as you slipped out of the portal
towards me and then up to the surface with me..
body, pressed against body..  as you took my air in

And the way that you learned along the way
to truly trust.. and take the risk to make your needs known:
   how to ask for help, now--
long before your heart, mind, soul  and that beautiful body
     went into despair--

That you would make your needs known to me
in the most beautiful of ways--
ways, which unknown to you,
     would draw me in-   towards  you
     in such a tremendously, deep way..


And so, you can see that our beautiful friendship was
doomed from the beginning--

   what has happened in my heart now,
              was inevitable,

       and is the outcome of your incredible response
       to all that has come towards you..
                                           from me.

Sadly true,  and difficult.. all of it..
but you are the defiant-one--

Your greatest act of defiance
is to love deeply, the very one
that she so excelled at
in nearly completely dismembering.

We who care about you,  cringe
at the thought of you even remotely
agreeing with the horrendous
message  that she put into you.
No one that cares about you
agrees with that message..
including you.

She did her job well, gorgeous..
you are split almost  into
two separate people--
the you who agrees with her
because of the guilt and shame
she put on you,  
for going against her self-centered  
view of the world
(and the all too vulnerable, little you)

But there is another part of you  
that thrives through creativity..
almost as an advocate/encourager
of the misfits.. the downtrodden.

You are in essence, a comforter
of your own,  broken  

and dismembered self.

--And you will not go
you will not fall
Within you  are the thoughts
that will lead
to your untimely leaving

if you listen to it all
you will lose
And the whole world
will lose, along  with you

Please don't leave
Please, sweet love..
stay--
If for no one else

then please stay  for me

In your pretty little head
is the death
that was never
meant to be yours
ah, love.. can't  you see
there is a renewal
within the breath
of  all  who are finally
able to let love in.

That head of yours,
my sweet one
It will tell you  
every-where  to go--

  every where,  
  but to me.

Yet
I know those messages
spoken, also..

So clear and so loud--
in its mist of distance
its concealing cloud,
the fog that makes it all
seem so very very real

But what of the real
within this feel,  within me

That tells me of your worth
and the tremendous value
that lies within the rarity
of all there is that is you..

In your head, you are ugly
In mine,
you are my  so very..
Will I ever  be able
to get you to see
what a departure like that
will do to me?

Within your own self view
is that oh so horrible 

           undoing of you
How very real  it feels..
this,  which was so very unfairly
placed in to you
This..  which now  only wants
to see you dead

Such a very beautiful
pretty, little head

And you--
my so very,
very

very..


Very.
xo

Don't kid yourselves

Each and everyone  of us
has the power to truly save

    Yet  all around us,  
           they are falling.
    Shall we begin to  
           say their names?

    Why do you carry on
    as though you cannot

When something dimly-Beautiful
inside of you   says.  you.  can.
And screams out  into your soul

  late at night,   

             That you will.

They are gone now;
my  sweet  Forever-Beautifuls
but not from you, they are..
Because it is The Fallen  in them
that keeps telling you,    that you can

     and you will..
           Truly save.


There is a song
that is buried  deep
in every-one  of us
that tells us

They will never be broken  again.

A heart  
that just wants
to be what it is..
without edit  needed,
to avoid punishment
or worse yet,
counterfeit imitation

So why not we
stoke up
the gaslight  flame
and color it all, empty
or count it all
to that of self gain
nullifying the good
down to that  of
everyday, commonplace
or that  of an every day
self-centeredness..

making
every single bit of this,
un-fixable

I see you  in the layers
between the layers--

One,  stacked atop
of the other,   but none
losing their God-given, loft

I see your tears--  watering
a Universe,  parched..
.
Wanting to say  that it
knows,  the true color of  rain
or the difference  between  

good..
and the bad,  kind of pain.

I reach  for you
and you dissolve..  evaporate--

like you were never, mine.
Were you ever,  mine?

paulSN

Open up the floodgates of hope,
and need
and along with the
access
to life it brings  
comes years  of being

left hanging
let down
ignored
abandoned..
hope upon hope
upon hope,  left

dashed
smashed
crushed
quenched
drenched

in the dry emptiness  
of emptiness itself..

until the resilient
childlike
hopefulness of a little-one
wears down

into despondency

And so it is
the hope of hope
that brings back access
into memories

of when we first  
gave up hope

and then (God help us)..
the reasons why.

Beautiful keeper of the gate
push through it all my love..
push through it all,
     and as you face your hell

you will begin to see your heaven again.

And when she had
e x p e r i e n c e d   each part
   of herself--

in each part-
a healing

each part-
its newfound expression

each part-
finally comfortable
with the other parts
   of who she is--

when the sum of the whole
in itself became whole

   then she became whole.

And I
no longer needed
to go so many  d i f f e r e n t
places

or press my face
to so many different
faces

just so that  I
might find her.

I'm trying to stay alive long enough
to get the words out..
the words your broken soul
has been longing to hear..

the shift, that will provide
                             the offset

Not as if, an undoing of the trauma
or an explanation as to why
this whole ****** up world
is as ****** up as it is

but instead

ones that will  show you
that it all has been worthwhile--
That the pain  that you carry
will find a place--

and you will no longer have to  be
so all alone


I am failing, my beautiful..

and I am dying
in all of my inability
to say to you  (and those like you)

what it is I have been built (from day-one)

.
.
.
.
.


to say.

Sometimes, the pressure is so bad..
       on the spiritual-shift,
that it feels as though I am right on the edge,  
       about to crumble--

as if all  of Hell
is going to pull my soul and spirit  
       down  in to  it

an "un-willing" descension;  
dragged down, in full ****** form
                    .   .   .

There is a death down there,
        a life-swallowing horror--

My destruction, waits for me there
  There are poor, broken-ones there
unfairly  

     held against their will,  there.

I shudder as I think of the doom--
the retribution that awaits me
for anything..   for everything  
I have done  
that has dinged
his all holiness,  
the one on the throne here--

the deceptive-one,  
the hidden agenda,   acquiesced..

     the  f oo ler  of us all..  
                                (the ******.)



but, then  I smile to myself;

.. and then,    I can't stop smiling.

Heading up  into
the unspoken--  a
spirit,  as of yet
unbroken;

   she needs to be there.

Undefined; undisclosed
with no-thing  presupposed

I bring my  I
(she says)

fly,  said her
  I...
and into  the
   sky
she did fly--

fully-clothed
yet, sacred-robed
she was going somewhere
as of yet
         un-probed.

Is there any way to  dress
for a place  like that?
And when you get there
would it matter  anyways?

Back down to the ground;
white tank top and *******-on--

                                      perfect.

God­-ordained   but
no one 'splained

the effect  this smokin-view
would have on me--

  heh,
And she brought  that
  Love-scent
back down with her
       from  the   N e x t p l a c e


               .. and Im as high
                       as a man can be.

A fine mist filled the room
  the moment she began singing

Covering my presence;
concealing  all that is congenital
     in me

--and the years and years and years
of my family-laid, dysfunction..

      Of the harm, inherent  in me

Of the damage to her Beautiful-Everything
      I can do..  
     (Things are not OK
     when my war-torn D N A
     comes into play.) .....


              I open the door and walk into the room.
              Small fingers  slowly sliding off of keys
                   as her  glowing face  falls,
                   now  turns  ashen

An instant,  Ichabod-like undoing
   turning Steam, into stone..

              And  still I reach for her;
              the thin fabric  of her dress
              the only barrier  between us--

             ..keeping the oils  of our skin
              from  blending  together
              (the angel closes her eyes..
              as the Glory  that  was hers
              is now hiding   in the corner
              of the room)

I am weeping  now--
This beautiful Lovedream..
This one  perfect chance  
since the day I was born;
For my deeply-protected  spirit
to intertwine  with that
    of another..


Over the keyboards  I reach
as I press myself  to her..
there is a danger  here..

      --as much  for her
       as there is for me.
       Through the tremble,
        I am so incredibly  
        uncertain

        Yet  still I gaze  at her--
        consumed, by Spirit-crave.....


(Small hands  slowly  
reach around me..
Those beautiful orbs, for eyes
staring,   so intently--

       ..A cherub-like face   
       around me,  peering..
        
 --Those eyes now closing
 As gifted fingers  on keys
  bring forth  the most   perfect

         tune.)


             And suddenly
  a whole world,  treacherous
  becomes  immediately  safe.

I am left  only to wish..

that there were realms..   universes--
heaven-sent places,  immersed

     within the warmth
     of peaceful habitation..

Where there perpetually  exists
a beautiful series  of at least

     one ..
    ..   or two  
more steps  in the process:

.. therefore forever leaving
    the beautiful beads

  of our deepest of hopes, intact.


       I love coming back
to your beautiful world  here

   and finding again,  gems

... And the skin opened up  into wide, cavernous cracks..
and there was a hissing sound--     a burning smell..
                               not unlike that  of a calf-branding  
on an everyday, working  South Dakota cattle ranch--

The feathering smoke, curling around the ancient stubs
                              of that which is  as of yet,  de-horned.
And there was a raging scream--
yet, one almost as if harmononiously intertwined
with the guttural moans of a pleasure-chant:
    that which is borne.. not of victimization,
               but of deep, consensual agreement

   And,  against this kind of liaison  between
flesh and death,  all the power of love's ache
becomes   a l m o s t   as if  nothing other
than a whisper...  

                          almost.

We would be the best looking couple on the beach.  
You would be continually dragging me into  your
condo bedroom to **** me hard up against the wall..

and then dragging me back out onto the beach
to slap me under the cover of the breaking waves..

where no one can hear me crying like a little *****.


Only to become overwhelmed within the emotions of it all;
and dragging me back into your condo bedroom..


Ah, **** Babe..

There is a love, deeply embedded  into

fear's reverence.. and what we fear most,
is the threat of annihilation..  yet,  is not
that, which is within the deep hooks  of
annihilation's looming leer, that which
is also the very seeds sown-- giving way
to the very firstfruits of Life-Anew..
within itself?

So then, is not death's very fear,  
in itself,  a conceding to the inevitability
of Love's unfolding conquer?
The condemnation-shadow, so unfairly
placed into you,  at such a tender
young age, has run amok for so many
unrestrained years  within your beautiful
spirit, and body..  is no longer
    an end-all..
    or catch-all,
But is now, but a spring-board;   albeit,
fear-driven.. into that (finally, Beautiful-one)
which brings Life.. directly out of death--
Not with the annihilation  of the very  Death..
(which gave you Magic) but through its own,
very power to draw us towards Love,
through its own, very fear (respect)  of that Love..
does not then, death.. through Love,  become upheld?

So how then can the condemnation within you, be bad
except that it be allowed to,  for life.. keep you
hidden in shadow? Is not then  Love's Light, the
very thing that creates Shadow's, shadow, therefore
exposing Shadow's nature by bringing forth,
its own shadow..  leaving the vulnerable rawness of
condemnation, exposed..
Hence, the horrendous sting of Love's truth.. yet also,
through the Faith-increasing training of experience  alone,
is the strengthening into resilience  the beautiful, war-torn
Spirit  that has become able to begin  to finally.. take in, Love.
This is where you are now at, beautiful girl. While under
condemnation's death-hold, you have hated me for so long
that the love.. mixed with fear.. became its own  natural
concession into Life, itself-- giving way to the Magical
falling-off  of the scales that have covered those beautiful
eyes of yours for so long

Bring your Death, beautiful-one. Through your Faith,  it is
established..  and then made, Complete. The giftedness, borne
from the deep, catacombs of Death's Unholy Hold, come forth
in fullness.. into fruition.. as you pass from Death, into Life--
right here.. in the land of the Living.
The Death you have known, does not fall off at the gate
as you pass through it.. but instead, through the newness
of your beautiful eye's, Life View..  Death's previous Unholiness
  becomes instantly, Holy.

I am in love with the death that is in you. From its hold,
were born every Magical gift that I love so much, in you..
and  while in your presence..  will forever
take my breath away.

Welcome to my life, Beautiful one.

To inhabit the space  within
oneself,  to such a degree
that the skin, thins itself out

    in order to leave  room
    for that which is  to occupy--

An indwelling  
of self,  to such a degree
as to stretch the skin
to full capacity..

    leaving no room  
    for ambiguity--

All cells and atoms, within
now  fully occupied,

   fully inhabited

by the most beautiful  
form of indwelling  of all--


   That,  of the self.

Your finest of  dreams
became known..
And in those precious hours
you soared,  as I soared
until your own,  
horrendously skewed,
self-view
slaughtered the ever-living
****  out of it all..
And, oh my sweet
little desert-wanderer-
you have been mad at me
ever since.

I did not create your view,
someone else did-- so horribly..
so very unfairly
     long before we ever met
I came to help  restore  in you
that which was stolen from you
so very long ago.
   But you hauled off  and kicked
   me in the ****
   as soon as your ever-wearing
   internal-messaging system  kicked in
And down I went, my beautiful--
a total ******* in your eyes
with no way left to bring you  the gold
your better-everything, still hungers for.
**** me, my beauty..
baby stick the knife in
    deep.
And in a moment of remorse
your tear-stained rusted fortress-gate
will swing wide open..
and with my last dying breath,
I will hand it over to you anyways--

         The gold your war-torn heart
         had always hoped for
         but never thought it deserved.

   You are Ishmael, my beautiful--


   a blood-borne carrier
   of the Living Word

My relational cat
shows up  for a chat
oh, of course-- and
some food:   with
few ***** to give--
      but it's all good

    Or few-***** it seems.

The kee  I-thot
to be a self-centered snot
has turned out to be
the kee of-my dreams.

I can understand  kitty
kitty kitty kitty;  and
I can now  see
that it's me
that's been ******
****** ****** ******--  or
so it seems.

        Or so it seems.

When I think
that I'm bad--  or
have-given all
that I-had--  kee
somehow finds a way
to show me--
         I'm the man
         of her dreams.

Kitty kitty kitty kee.
kitty kitty

This place. I don't know.
so many people / want to block..
  their words--
they climb all over me.
one's in particular:

Heart-expressed words bringing down
the healing light of relationship to the parts of me
who up until now
have known little or no relationship of its kind;

      and there is conflict within me  as I fight it..
    years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;
      often squandered. in vanity.

none of that mattered much;

                                 until now--

When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself
reveal to me their dormancy:    left detached
from community  with one another--
  an internal community   necessary
  to withstand  the brilliant light    and glory
  brought down by those here who write as she does.

          but she;

    through her unfiltered heart-writes
    brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the
    relational dance of the godhead.

     And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me.
I so want to block her  for the conflict she creates    in me  
                    .
      but I will  press on

and allow her supremely-smithed words--
(words not even written to me)
to have their beautiful way,

in

and through..
the help that has been all around me;
(each and every one of us)
waiting...  
             all along

   --as  if they were cleaning my soul,
      re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.

sweet lord, girl..

I like the way your brain moves its thoughts  into its own deeper
realms with each thing said. You have that rare gift of being able to
be your own internal/external Muse.. even while midstream within
the process of writing it all out.

Alone.. maybe more than you may think you want to be, you are
never lonely. A very rare thing indeed in the modern world, kid.

Very unique, and very very special.
(It is very much the truth..)

I would always hope for the gifted ones such as yourself,  that you
would always and ever-increasingly be able to see your own
worthiness in yourself in being chosen to be a bearer of such a
wonderful gift. Kierkegaard was a chosen recipient such as you
(your rare mind's unfolding thought processes are in ways, much
like his), and through his own beautiful self-love, became.. through
his stewardship of the gift, the father of Existentialism. He felt the
Living Word within him, causing his wonderous mind to feel also,
through thought.. which in turn, churned deeply  his
forever-goldmining heart, which in turn, mused his mind into deeper processings of the deeply-felt word's expressions--

ever-cycling.. ever churning within him,  until every cell within his
electrified body became fully lit..

And out onto paper it all went.. as what was so beautifully
self-Mused within him was brought out from an internally-lit
darkness and into the full light of day. The deeply-searching, in you
is in relationship with the gifted Magical  in you,
(which is also so very much you [the gifts are irrevocable]),
bringing out words and concepts/thought processes pretty much
previously unknown here in this world. Make your own self-Love..
self forgiveness.. self-acceptance, and self understanding.. all your Art..

And it will be your art that most blesses this world down here.
You've already got the goods, kid.. watch them become greatly
clarified in you as your own self-Love becomes your own finest art.
The gift, you already have-- clear as clear can be. Shame and
condemnation are powerful enough down here to make even the
most purest of pure, become obscure.

Mm.
Yeah, kid..

"In the end..
The Love you take (in)
Is equal to
The Love,  you make"

Make your own self love, your goal-- surround yourself with
loving truthtellers who will love you for who you truly are..  rather
than what they want you to be (or think you should be)  for them.

Clearly you are worth every single bit of it all.

~Paul
(preston
M Vogel
F Unting Somethingoranother)

--never goes away
when forgiveness is forever an option.

Intensity, passion, and conviction..
each have a volatility all their own.
In other words.. **** happens  sometimes
when two Heavy hitters become close.
If there is heartfelt value,
and enough honesty..
nothing close and good  
within the Realms of Love
is ever truly over.

You make a wonderful conduit

It is through the pathological:
The presented image of the journey
as being that of the road, less traveled--
a foundation of sand,  presented
as being that of bedrock..
It is the ancient shortcut's  need
to prop up it's own deception
that is of that which harbors  the greatest judgement
        of all that is upright
and it is upon these agenda-ed, subjective pallettes
that the pastels are mixed and arranged,

as the landscape of the world's reality
becomes,  painted.

You are in there,  I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit  gear..

in to gear
in to gear

into gear..
And I wonder..  do you want out?
The machine  on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle  from
the external,  is futile..
But the internal,  beautiful girl..

"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes,  looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted,  as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine,  extracting..

Milking from me, my warm  pulsing *****--
a deeply-penetrating lubricant,  pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..

But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides  of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..

as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing to you  a moment of Light  
  and internal clarity--  
long enough for you to see

    That the machine  is made vulnerable
    by the ever-changing qualities  of
    Love that found its way through
    As the awakened parts within you, for the
    first time.. understand

the machine's love-blocking,  nature
And you begin to choose, mid-******
the machine's dismantle,  from the inside--

'Little by little..

Line, upon line..

Block, upon block..

Precept, upon precept..'

Until we have the chance,  once again..
to do it all again

Everything about you,  dealing with your pain,

and now the loss of someone so dear to you,
hinges on your continuing to move forward.
My thing is to encourage you  so that you can
keep doing what you do..   knowing that

someone so deeply believes in..
and cares about  your chosen path.

This morning was a wakeup call of the Spirit..
as to just how deeply your beautiful heart goes.
Your anger is justified  and so very understandable.
There were multiple options available.

The drugs reduced those options to just one
through the temporary confusion of the mind.

Part of your path is to become ever-more capable
of helping others that are in the process of succumbing.
An increase of true Love in the world,  

    greatly increases  all options,  
    for those who struggle
.  .

If you have saved  even one,
then you have.. within the Realms,   saved all.

You are beautiful, sweet Beloved
You are the one,  that will save that one.

Sorry, about....

how much  I
completely come--   a l l
              over myself;
the ceiling,  the window-blinds..  

the neighbor's cat..
walking  across the street

every single night, my love.
(true story)

paulSN

I cannot betray
who it is that I am,
little beauty-
and so, in doing so
I will continue to hold on
to that which I know
truly gives me strength;

but..
I cannot help but hope
that as I do, the rain
that waters my tree
and helps me to stand--
also waters
and brings nourishment to
the very roots

of the beautiful sapling that is you.

I do it for me, because I know
that is what I must do-  stand.
Know that you are deeply embedded
within my very growth rings, so
as I stand
and sing
of the very rain  that
provides the very thing we need,
I stand for you also:

and everyone else who is a struggling
sapling such as I once was.

      You are me
      and I am you.

   We both thrive on the same water.