*** trafficking – the trafficking and debasement of souls; Drug trafficking – the trafficking of substances that debase the body.  Here compared you will find the prevalence, impact, and rehabilitation processes associated with *** and shrug trafficking.  Respective clientele, demographics, and locales that these types of trafficking touch will be revealed in order enlighten you to their world-wide prevalence. The physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological impact of lifestyles that result from these two types of trafficking will be detailed to etch vividly an image of just how far-reaching the impact of these two activities is. Light will be shed upon the rehab processes that lead to recovery from each.
                 According to UnoDC.org, the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, the use of illicit drugs has remained in a stable trend, with approximately the same number of people using illicit drugs each year. This trend has continued for a number of years. Upon examining the world drug report, written by UnoDC.org, production of several drugs exhibit particularly interesting trends. ***** production for example fell and spiked in a somewhat predictable patter from 1990 until 2010. When this data is graphed a reasonable medium appears for all the years, revealing that ***** production has stayed around an average production of roughly 200,000 hectares annually. Likewise, coca cultivation pictures an interesting trend. From 1990 to 2010 coca production appeared to be almost identical each year, and with little to no rise or fall in production, there is a similar trend in its being trafficked.  
Nefarious: Merchant of Souls is a documentary that was released in 2012 by Exodus Cry Its producers and researchers saw firsthand the atrocities of the *** trafficking industry. The film crew interviewed former pimps and prostitutes, spoke to traffickers, the families of the trafficked and to individuals still actively engaged in three sides of the *** trade referring to currently employed pimps and prostitutes as well as those who purchased ***. The researchers and producers interviewed eastern European gang members and took a trip to Amsterdam’s red-light district – home of legal prostitution. They journeyed to Los Angeles and saw the glamorized side of the dark issue of *** trade.
According to Nefarious, the number of humans trafficked for the purpose of providing ****** services is on a shockingly steep rise. In a matter of a few years, *** trafficking rose from the third largest criminal enterprise to the second. It is second only to drug trafficking and is vying for the position as top criminal enterprise in the world. It is encroaching upon that position far more speedily than any authority or decent human being would care to acknowledge.  A survey taken in 2010 by DART (the drug awareness resistance training program) revealed that 21.8 million people aged 12 and older had taken an illicit drug in the previous month. In 2010 it was estimated that between 153 and 300 million people had used an illicit drug at least once in the previous year. These statistics fail to take into account the impact that this usage has on the lives of the families of drug users. Neither do these statistics reveal the extent to which drug users lifestyles are impacted by drugs. However, nearly  every single human trafficked for ****** purposes is completely and utterly enveloped in the lifestyle of prostitution and the violent world of being prostituted. In Nefarious a shocking statistic is revealed. Approximately ten percent of the entire human population of earth has been trafficked. Both human and drug trafficking are prevalent across the globe. Human trafficking occurs in 161 of 192 countries. Illicit drugs are trafficked in every country that has laws that deem substances unlawful. There are little to no race, religion, ethnicity, or age restrictions on who can and is trafficked for use of ***, but drugs are far more limited by age and ethnicity in their use.
Drug trafficking, though similar to *** trafficking in many ways, is in no way as substantial a damaging force to the mind, soul, and spirit as the world of *** trafficking  is in terms of the critical and dangerous force it exhibits in the emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual  impact it has on young girls. Both drugs and *** trafficking have some influence in all of these respective areas. The primary area in which people are affected by drug use is the physical. Drug users’ health declines, they become physically or psychologically dependent, and they may develop diseases from sharing of needles or lack of inhibitions that lead to *** with an infected individual. Drugs may, in some rare cases, lead to psychoses and mental disorders. They may cause brain damage, which is both physically and mentally damaging. Drugs may even set one’s heart and soul in a place that they are more susceptible to lies or truth. They alter spiritual state for some individuals, but only mildly. However, *** trafficking victims are impacted majorly and in their entirety as a person. In all aspects of the physical, mental, and spiritual, *** trafficking victims are consumed by *** trafficking. In Nefarious it is revealed that In order to “break” *** trafficking victims they are profusely beaten, and are psychologically toyed with to create a twisted trust and dependence on their various handlers. They are repeatedly *****, and are examined like cattle by those who wish to buy women. They are imprisoned in dark rooms and not allowed to leave unless told to do so. They are bedridden and forced to ******* themselves. After being broken in ways described above and sold to a ****, girls are forced every day to meet certain quotas of customers and cash flow. If they do not meet these they are beaten even more. They lay in bed sometimes a week at a time to recover physically enough to usefully return to their “job”.  Through this hellish ordeal, their soul, self-worth and identity are being attacked by circumstances that devalue them. They become like animals.
*** trafficking victims become dependent on their environment for normalcy. This is so true for some individuals that even though they have been rescued from the lifestyle, they return.  This is not because the *** trafficking victims enjoys the lifestyle of prostitution, and it is not because they want to. Instead, it is because they think they can be nothing more than a *******. The *** trafficking victim, in this case, believes that they need to settle into the numb and thoughtless mind state that they develop when broken. Returning to prostitution does not evidence an addiction. In contrast, it is the cry of a soul that is desperately trying to cope. They do this in order to feel as if they can survive.  
The rehab processes for *** and drug trafficking differ greatly in commitment and length, but are similar in that they both require physical and psychological rehabilitation.  Drug rehabilitation programs typically consist of twelve-step programs or something similar. They last a number of months, or occasionally a few years. They allow individuals counsel and encouragement, and they attempt to, by abstinence, exorcise an addicted individual’s addiction. *** trafficking rehabilitation requires the re-creation of an individual. Self-worth must be reconstructed. The spirit must be healed in order to allow for psychological healing. Prostitutes are not addicted to prostitution, but prostitution produces dependence in that the prostituted crave normalcy. This dependence must be killed. Successfully rehabilitating women from this forced lifestyle requires lifelong commitment and endless resources. It requires passionate fanatics, people who will pour their life into changing the lives of others, because only the incurable fanatic can wreak havoc on the tragedy of human trafficking. Any short-term effort to rehabilitate a *** trafficking victim is doomed to failure. The degree to which the brokenness of *** trafficking victims becomes ingrained in them is so extreme that it takes a lifetime to reshape their lives.
While researching *** trafficking in order to accurately produce Nefarious, the researchers and producers of Nefarious became convicted by facts that they collected. The evidence they collected speaks to the fact that *** trafficking does not just attack the body; it attacks the entire being, and in far worse ways than drugs ever could. Varied races and ages are prostituted and / or consume drugs. The impact of both of *** and drug trafficking is severe, but much more so severe in the case of human trafficking. The rehab process for human trafficking is much more in depth and is testament to the horror and degree of psychological, mental, and emotional disfigurement, as well as acclimation to a horrible situation to the point that horror becomes normal – a new definition of addiction. Human trafficking is an atrocity that is far more horrendous and prevalent than imaginable. It is far more destructive than drug trafficking. Drug trafficking is one of the most destructive forces in this generation.  Surely consuming drugs is one of the most horrid things we can do to our bodies, but what about consuming souls? *** trafficking consumes souls, hearts, minds and bodies. It splits, fragments, debases, brutalizes, obliterates, murders, rapes, molests, destroys, and dehumanizes the prostituted.  Drug trafficking attacks the body the soul, and sometimes the mind, but in much milder ways.

Pluto says
Keep your hug

Pluto says
Dwarf Planet my ***

Pluto says
Sticks and Stones *******

Pluto says
I know what I am
I don’t care
For your “opinion”

Captured by the Kuiper Belt! Please.
Or one my favorites,
A cold rock!

You called me a trans-Neptunian object?
I have five moons!
An 11 year old girl tried to name me.
She won £5 but I’ve had many names.
I am fond of Hiro.
But I’ve also liked Minerva.
I am hardly a minor planet.

In 2006 they tried to make a verb out of me
To "pluto" is to "demote or devalue someone or something.”
*******!
So passive aggressive and insulting.

I am not carrying that around with me
My orbit is 248 years.
At a 17 degree angle thank you very much
To pay my respects to that egomaniac Sun.
Why would I care what you think?
Perhaps I am envied because I am so far away.
I don’t think that I am far away at all.
It’s relative, no?
Yes, I am removed
from that Versailles situation over there
and all that *******.
That horrible planet
You know the one that I mean.
The one that’s crawling with “things”
They’re not even you.
Disgusting.

I am awash with molten ices and
I even sport a plasma tail.
I spin in nitrogen gases
On my own path
Alone
With my FIVE moons!
Just us!

They claim that there are other
Dwarf Planets here and there
And even go so far as to suggest
That I am the puniest amongst them
But with my five and five more still
That’s 10 to 8
And you already know what I can do.

They will bombard you with love and tell you what you want to hear.
They will tell you that they are your soulmate and that you have nothing to fear.

They will do or say anything to get what they desire.
They become quite adept at being a smooth liar.

Keep in mind that if it sounds too good to be true,
Listen to your gut instinct – it’s trying to protect you.

They will torture you with triangulation and convince you that you are the crazy one.
Then they will devalue and discard you when they have used you up and they are done.

They count on the fact that you will keep giving them the benefit of the doubt.
They are actually reeling you in but you are so confused you haven’t quite figured it out.

They are pure evil - do not fall for their lies.
Sooner or later their mask will slip and you will see through their disguise.

They will make you miserable – you will tell yourself this is not how you behave when you love someone,
But you will never make them see it that way because to them it’s just a way of having fun.

You will start to realize when their true self begins to show,
But keep your guard up because you never know how far they will go.

They call it emotional **** and that is exactly how you will feel.
You will soon understand the love you thought you had wasn’t ever real.

Then they will move on to the next victim and leave you alone.
Don’t beat yourself up – just hope they stay gone.

They have no conscience, no remorse and you are just a pawn in their sick little game.
Once you have been the target of a psychopath, you will never be the same.

A psychopath’s bond is a hard thing to break,
But you have to be strong for your own sake.

Everyone has come into contact with a psychopath at some point in their life.
It could easily have been your mother, your father, your husband or your wife.

We have all probably been victims of a psychopath but some of us just never knew,
Until you start reading the information about them then you will know it’s true.

Being fooled and falling in love with a psychopath is very easy for me to see.
I know firsthand the horror of it all because, yes, it happened to me.

V. Cheek
9/04/2014

Philosophically, Camus is known for his conception of the absurd. Perhaps we should clarify from the very beginning what the absurd is not. The absurd is not nihilism. For Camus the acceptance of the absurd does not lead to nihilism (according to Nietzsche nihilism denotes the state in which the highest values devalue themselves) or to inertia, but rather to their opposite: to action and participation. The notion of the absurd signifies the space which opens up between, on the one hand, man’s need for intelligibility and, on the other hand, 'the unreasonable silence of the world' as he beautifully puts it. In a world devoid of God, eternal truths or any other guiding principle, how could man bear the responsibility of a meaning-giving activity? The absurd man, like an astronaut looking at the earth from above, wonders whether a philosophical system, a religion or a political ideology is able to make the world respond to the questioning of man, or rather whether all human constructions are nothing but the excessive face-paint of a clown which is there to cover his sadness. This terrible suspicion haunts the absurd man. In one of the most memorable openings of a non-fictional book he states: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest – whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories – comes afterwards. These are games; one must first answer” (Camus 2000:11). The problem of suicide (a deeply personal problem) manifests the exigency of a meaning-giving response. Indeed for Camus a suicidal response to the problem of meaning would be the confirmation that the absurd has taken over man’s inner life. It would mean that man is not any more an animal going after answers, in accordance with some inner drive that leads him to act in order to endow the world with meaning. The suicide has become but a passive recipient of the muteness of the world. “...The absurd ... is simultaneously awareness and rejection of death” (Camus 2000:54). One has to be aware of death – because it is precisely the realization of man’s mortality that pushes someone to strive for answers – and one has ultimately to reject death – that is, reject suicide as well as the living death of inertia and inaction. At the end one has to keep the absurd alive, as Camus says. But what does it that mean?

In The Myth of Sisyphus Camus tells the story of the mythical Sisyphus who was condemned by the Gods to ceaselessly roll a rock to the top of a mountain and then have to let it fall back again of its own weight. “Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn” (Camus 2000:109). One must imagine then Sisyphus victorious: fate and absurdity have been overcome by a joyful contempt. Scorn is the appropriate response in the face of the absurd; another name for this 'scorn' though would be artistic creation. When Camus says: “One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness” (Camus 2000:110) he writes about a moment of exhilarated madness, which is the moment of the genesis of the artistic work. Madness, but nevertheless profound – think of the function of the Fool in Shakespeare’s King Lear as the one who reveals to the king the most profound truths through play, mimicry and songs. Such madness can overcome the absurd without cancelling it altogether.

I turn people into gods,
I'm upset when they have flaws.

Trophies for last place,
And a Holiday for every weekend.
A taste of this and that...
OF Italy and Ireland and Asia and Germany
and every township in the county,
and 3 collective Miles of
Portable Toilets,
Strategically Positioned
throughout each event.
cause there is going to be a Lot of ****...

Hooray for whatever we are celebrating this weekend.
Whichever one of the 30 different Woodstocks
Or week long Music Festivals
That exist only so
the Hippest of Hipsters
can congratulate each other
on how Indie they are.

Ya know, it's happy hour somewhere...
Why not party
All Day, Everyday?
Devalue the weekend
Like we have thanksgiving
And New Years.
A Five Kay For the Common Cold,
And We'll even give trophies for last place.
Cause we're all winners here.
and we're all hungry.
And What represents your heritage better than
Pizza or sauerkraut or General Tso's
And endless flowing barrels of refreshing, Ice cold, Domestically brewed and Nationally brand recognized Alcoholic Beverages?

IT's The Great Dumb Down, Charlie Brown!!!
A symptom of the Universe
If there ever was one.
Mass anesthesia to keep us all content
With our collective mediocrities,
our Forfeit Potential,
Our Day Job that doesn't pay very well,
But kind has benefits.
So we stay on.
In fear of nothing better.
It makes feel important.
Like Wheel of Fortune makes us feel smart.
(Wow, you can spell?!)...
Dwindling returns in a world of Beige and Pastels
And the Muted Grays of limestone concrete.
We Accept less and we Get less and we accept less and we Get less
And On And on and on,
till we hit that lowest common cultural denominator,
where your race is what food you eat,
And we all qualify for the special Olympics.

Look woman, you are my woman
as I am your man
And I fish all day
and sometimes nights too
and I come back from the dangers
and the labor and ****** ******* customers
who haggle over my fish at the marketplace
and they devalue my fish
and demean my labor
And then I come home with the coins
and I put them in your palms
and no doubt you cook me a sumptuous dinner
but come night, when the breeze carries the scents of the jasmine in
I’d expect a little fishing between us too, you know

You know, I’ve got me fish down my bottom
that’d I like to release, let it swim deep in your pond –
but this pushing me away at nights, and whispering ”You smell like a fish”
or “I’ve got a headache now” -
this will not do, cause you know,
my fish does swell much and that causes me pain and anguish
Because my blowfish really does want to move
and there you go telling me:
“You smell fishy” – what do you expect?
You married a fisherman, you know!
I’m not going to smell like a goat or a pig or an ox
cos I’m no butcher

And that makes me think
maybe you’re doing a bit of your own fishing all day
when I’m gone
so really you ought to
let my fish swim nights free in your pond
or surely I’ll bring my coins to a woman
in the huts at the marketplace
who’ll freely let my blowfish swim easy
whenever I put coins in her palms
And I can get me a change of woman too
So what will it be tonight? – does my fish swim free?
So, woman, you are my woman
as I am your man
And let us do what a fisherman and fisherwoman do together
when they are each other’s
and so let us add another chapter in the Manual of Love:
*Fisherman’s Fish and Fisherwoman’s Pond

Nothing is as simple as it ever seems, and nothing ever will be.
You can say "I love you." or "you make me happy" without uttering a single word, and I think that's
the only reason anyone can make it past the age of twenty-five.
I remember being in third grade wishing I was made of steel and concrete and every other single thing that my father's knuckles couldn't break through.
I remember being young and putting conch shells to my ear because then you would hear the ocean, and I remember doing the same to my grandfather's grave, and how his marble tomb sounded like a hollow room with smoke rising upwards through the floorboards, and I see how even at our composition, we are flooded with what we cannot turn away from.
I see the power of finding more in things that you don't really understand, and that even something as soft as a voice can be my sweet tooth.  
I was once told that people are exactly what they allow themselves to be, and are defined by the things that they were given, yet decide to change.
So just know that I feel the time passing like wind sliding down my back, and I am carving softer ways to love you,
I am trying less to know you and more to know why.

Because the way tires leave blisters on the skin of the road when they leave too quickly, is the same way goodbyes scrape arms.
It is easy to devalue our breath, when we live in a world filled with flame, and coal, and ice which are not supposed to be beautiful, but despite their purpose, they find their ways to be.
It takes courage to pray to someone knowing that gravity can ****** your words from the air and bring them right back down to the soles of your feet.
So when we question things like Heaven and wonder if that big blue sky is another bruise on someone else's Mother's arm, we find much more than answers.
We find that people are nothing extra, they are only themselves, some simply more than others.
We are more afraid of a silent and a hushed love than we could ever be of one that oozes too many words, so I will continue quieting the world until it is time to listen.
So yes,
hell exists.
But I refuse to believe it is a place, and as far as I am concerned it is a moment.
It may be one moment or millions of them, but hell is real once you understand that the people who are supposed to love you like bandages that cover burn marks, seem to be pretty good at starting fires when no one is looking.
These are just things I was thinking about on the car ride home after I ran into your Mother in the grocery store.
She said you still walk like there is sand in your shoes, and I realized that being in places isn't the same living in them.
We have bad habits of getting up and taking a few steps toward someone just to say we were there, and I hope you are guilty of
loving me from within the distance.

Funny how easy
Loves appears to be, until
It laughs with the other easily
Reconcilable "maybes"
That devalue your first "hello".

First, it began as "hello".
Little did you know how
Interested he would be in you, but
Reflecting on it now, you see how those
Tender tendencies weren't exclusive.

Finally, all you have left is "hello",
Like every other girl he knows.
Inevitably, you're one of many
Recycled pretties that thought
They were more than another "maybe".

I made a new friend today. She's a devil, making a lair of the details.
Her first words bound me in her spell,
Her first gesture captivated my soul.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
The sun shown above, hot and flirty, blinding me with her enthusiasm.
Stepping in her way, my friend gave me back my sight.
Gratefully, I smiled and looked her in the eye.

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her eyes were red and her hair was too
Long and graceful, it flowed down her neck and spread over her bare shoulders.
Flirting with the winds, locks of her hair seemed to dance in the sun's light.
She cast no shadow and bore no weight on the earth's face.
Standing weightless she floated in place.

I made a new friend today, while resting from the day's labors.
In the shade of my favorite tree, I was sitting, breathing heavily with a death stick in my hand.
My gaze shifting madly while my mind was drifting steadily farther from the scene.
Another day was almost over...
Taking heed of the greenery
Taking my fill of the fresh air
Knowing that my concrete hive awaits my return.
Then she came, blocking out the setting sun.
Tall and slender she rose over me.
Her form redefined what I knew of elegance.
The beauty looked down to me, then came down to meet my gaze.
Her scent filled my head and brought it ever so slightly higher.
Her eyes laid claim to mine.
They glimmered like rubies and for a moment, her eyes were all I could see. Then the rest of her face caught my eye.

She was everything that I was not.
She was fair and smiling, I was dark and weary.
Light and loose, her dress spoke of her freedom,
while mine wreaked of aspesis and death.
Her face was smooth and clear,
while mine was wrinkled and rough.
Her eyes had clear whites and ruby red irides
Mine were the blood shot whites and the yellow irides.
Half a mind there, with the other blank and clear.
Below her I was sitting, receptive and calm.
She put her left hand on my right shoulder...
No words were yet uttered.
I thought; good things come to those who wait,
and wait I did, this opening line is hers.
Let her use it as she sees fit. I hope she would...
I only hope she is mindful of her words.
I only hope she speaks.
Her lips moved and her voice danced.
Into my skull her words raced.
"I came for you. I come bearing a light for your mind.
I come bearing knowledge for your longing.
I come in answer to your prayers."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her first words bound me in her spell.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
and on she went with her opening line.
"Here only for you.
Our differences may be numerous,
But I size them up with no displeasure.
Our differences may be many,
But still I come to your aid.
Son of Adam, I am here to provide for you and only for you.
I provide comfort when none can be found.
I provide company when no one is around.
I provide wisdom when your wits scatter about."

"A rather lengthy opening line there." was the first thought that came to my mind.
"you speak in riddles and claim to bear subjects for my passion, and answers to my questions.
Claiming to have knowledge of my persona.
My dreams, you claim to know and understand.
Who are you ? or better yet, What are you ?
You bear in your hand only a single fruit, a glistening green apple.
Time's passing left no marks on your face or voice.
Your complexion tells me you live a life of luxury; elegant and powerful, your arrival caught me off guard.
You were kind enough to reveal the purpose of your visit to me in your first words.
I find your honesty appealing,
your voice comforting,
your sight mesmerizing,
but my eyes never fool me and they tell me that you're not human; nothing like myself."
My reply came swiftly, though not needed, as I came to know later on. Our conversing was but a formality, for her at least, I on the other hand knew of no other method of communication.
Though eloquent and infinitely flexible, my tongue's expressive potential was still limited.
Limited by my humanity; its actions were governed by a despot.
And limitation's despotism seemed to never waver.

Again her voice rose, tempting and dizzying me;
"Son of Adam, I am not of your species.
You asked what I am and I will provide you with an answer.
I am not human, not belonging to this plane of existence. I concede to none of the laws to which you concede.
I may be the first of my kind to cross paths with you, but be assured, you are not the first of your kind to cross paths with me.
I am essentially a being of the ethereal realm.
I come from a different world
Where reality and fantasy exist side to side
I have been called many names... Demoness, Devil, Temptress, Goddess.
A human's demise, Lust's incarnate.
You may use whichever you like of them."

I clung to silence for a second, then gave her my answer.
"The names you've provided me with all seem to hold no meaning for you.
They were all used by predecessors to myself, I am sure. And I suppose that's the reason you chose to suggest them to me."
Slowly and silently, she nodded; non of them held any meaning for her.
"I care not for formalities and I care not for my predecessors.
I will use whatever name you use.
If you would allow it."

Her voice came in a whisper.
"I will only agree if you vow never to share it with another. For unlike yours, mine was brought into existence with my creation. It is as much a part of me as I am a part of it, and it is mine and mine alone to dispense of or reveal."
For a moment, I considered my situation, it seems I am as much her destiny as she is mine... or at least part of it. I was tempted by her offer and pleased by her sincerity, her apparent decency.
"I agree to your terms, I vow never to speak of it. Now tell me!"

And tell me she did.
Speak of it I won't.
She revealed it as promised
So share it I can't.

"My name is my power, it holds my soul and my mind.
Son of Adam, I know of your longing.
I came in answer to your calling
I heard all your silent thoughts
I heard all your questions
They reached my ears wherever I roamed, and I have come to you."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
By her name I could call her when nobody else ever could.
She was desire in the flesh...
My solitude she wished to crush
My thirst she hoped to quench.

"Oh, but solitude is good for the soul, my friend. Solitude is my ground... my grind.
And though I long, you can never satisfy me, my friend.
I long not for answers or keys, but an end to the questions, the master key to this infernal maze of a world. For what is life if not a pensione? vacant rooms, all locked, or wishing not to be disturbed.
What are the people we know if not transients? They book, move in, stay, then leave... Like tourists, lazy, dumb and gullible idiots.
Do you wish to be one of said jokers and frauds?"

Her face was unchanged.. she seemed not to be bothered by my last ultimatum, and her voice again came to me, clear and calm, "Son of Adam, I wish not to devalue your dilemma, but it is you who is transient here, not me. Your likes never last, and to the next world you will soon undoubtedly be cast."

"Good point... that makes me the only candidate for such hypocrisy.... Then tell me, how do you intend to aid me? Out with your secrets my friend."

With excellent sight we are still blind to so much through the life of one individual I want to shed light
On my favorite subject womanhood if I fail at least maybe something worthwhile will have been said
Native Americans call her Cloud her home was near Nashville Tennessee not far from the home of the
Great Cherokee nation but my telling takes place in the nations and Texas the land of the Comanche’s
Quanah Parker was noted as one of the great leaders of his people half breed white mother Comanche
Father a great jumping off place extra sensory perception will be of great assistance because she is real
But much more capture a cloud on a window pane clear but foggy other worldly caught between earth
And heaven just as the clouds themselves her words of them were gentle messengers that float by in
Her Case it’s as the mist was able to create a mouth and speak it was soft assuring it was bathed in
Wonder she robed herself in a heavy coat and wide brimmed hat and almost disappeared but then she
Appeared in this more perfect revelatory scene that a gifted conjure would have to rise in his caldron
A trellised harbor bursting with lilac jasmine and Magnolia here moonlight would give its most magical
View she dressed in white Satin with a flowing train and a shoulder wrap of satin the measure of all
Woman is here on display yes there is the ordinary times of life but only woman can rise to this stature
Of beauty and charm I have worshiped at their altar for my whole life if not an expert a lengthy
Coinsure at least now for the negative on this gift of loveliness evil would move in treachery first in the
Garden and from that victory it would devalue a one can you believe this to be created to be loved
Cherished and adored what blessing belongs to all women but we know the deadly truth only our
Children are more misused than our women and this blessing was interrupted now a woman herself
Must strive to keep her footing or she too will be ****** into the evil workings and default herself from
Her true glory there is no greater sadness to see a beautiful created gift shorn of it true quality thrown
To the ground and trampled on that is what is so alluring about Cloud she is everything but still
Innocence flows from her she has a glow that comes from within that makes her translucent you could
Weep in her presence and she wouldn’t condemn or use it to her advantage no she would only lift
A gentle hand wipe away the tears it’s a pleasure to be in the presence of one herself waif like she
Creates in you a sense of well being mother is one of women’s name that doesn’t mean you’re left out if
You don’t have children it still your nature it’s the rapture men feel when they look on you but can’t
Explain what it is I must draw to a close emotions overtake instead of a cloud it is tears that make it hard
to Continue to all women my prayer is be real be strong and God Bless you

Clouded One

With excellent sight we are still blind to so much through the life of one individual I want to shed light
On my favorite subject womanhood if I fail at least maybe something worthwhile will have been said
Native Americans call her Cloud her home was near Nashville Tennessee not far from the home of the
Great Cherokee nation but my telling takes place in the nations and Texas the land of the Comanche’s
Quanah Parker was noted as one of the great leaders of his people half breed white mother Comanche
Father a great jumping off place extra sensory perception will be of great assistance because she is real
But much more capture a cloud on a window pane clear but foggy other worldly caught between earth
And heaven just as the clouds themselves her words of them were gentle messengers that float by in
Her Case it’s as the mist was able to create a mouth and speak it was soft assuring it was bathed in
Wonder she robed herself in a heavy coat and wide brimmed hat and almost disappeared but then she
Appeared in this more perfect revelatory scene that a gifted conjure would have to rise in his caldron
A trellised harbor bursting with lilac jasmine and Magnolia here moonlight would give its most magical
View she dressed in white Satin with a flowing train and a shoulder wrap of satin the measure of all
Woman is here on display yes there is the ordinary times of life but only woman can rise to this stature
Of beauty  and charm I have worshiped at their altar for my whole life if not an expert a lengthy
Coinsure at least now for the negative on this gift of loveliness evil would move in treachery first in the
Garden and from that victory it would devalue a one can you believe this to be created to be loved
Cherished and adored what blessing belongs to all women but we know the deadly truth only our
Children are more misused than our women and this blessing was interrupted now a woman herself
Must strive to keep her footing or she too will be ****** into the evil workings and default herself from
Her true glory there is no greater sadness to see a beautiful created gift shorn of it true quality thrown
To the ground and trampled on that is what is so alluring about Cloud she is everything but still
Innocence flows from her she has a glow that comes from within that makes her translucent you could
Weep in her presence and she wouldn’t condemn or use it to her advantage no she would only lift
A gentle hand wipe away the tears it’s a pleasure to be in the presence of one herself waif like she
Creates in you a sense of well being mother is one of women’s name that doesn’t mean you’re left out if
You don’t have children it still your nature it’s the rapture men feel when they look on you but can’t
Explain what it is I must draw to a close emotions overtake instead of a cloud it is tears that make it hard
to Continue to all women my prayer is be real be strong and God Bless you

It took me a decade of toil
years of experience and expertise
to learn that men are happy scoring
ecstatic when he bags and trashes
that short win he has not earned
Sometimes as women we steam
trimmed with seams of emotion
awaiting to open hearts unreserved
Yet he don’t want this vulnerability
he wants to be ignored and uncared for
denied and kept at the deepest ledge
for when you give yourself easily
he will devalue your inner-self
blocking and tantalising from afar
Men are still immature within
afraid of closeness,scared of love
afraid of the emotions,scared to trust
and when he chases,he is fast as a cheetah
preying closer and closer to his price
and when he lies, he sugar coats the facts
so that he creates an illusionary promise
Yet deep within he is like a baby
strained with automatic reflexes
unable to make an emotional dialogue
on how to make the woman really happy....

With excellent sight we are still blind to so much through the life of one individual I want to shed light
On my favorite subject womanhood if I fail at least maybe something worthwhile will have been said
Native Americans call her Cloud her home was near Nashville Tennessee not far from the home of the
Great Cherokee nation but my telling takes place in the nations and Texas the land of the Comanche’s
Quanah Parker was noted as one of the great leaders of his people half breed white mother Comanche
Father a great jumping off place extra sensory perception will be of great assistance because she is real
But much more capture a cloud on a window pane clear but foggy other worldly caught between earth
And heaven just as the clouds themselves her words of them were gentle messengers that float by in
Her Case it’s as the mist was able to create a mouth and speak it was soft assuring it was bathed in
Wonder she robed herself in a heavy coat and wide brimmed hat and almost disappeared but then she
Appeared in this more perfect revelatory scene that a gifted conjure would have to rise in his caldron
A trellised harbor bursting with lilac jasmine and Magnolia here moonlight would give its most magical
View she dressed in white Satin with a flowing train and a shoulder wrap of satin the measure of all
Woman is here on display yes there is the ordinary times of life but only woman can rise to this stature
Of beauty and charm I have worshiped at their altar for my whole life if not an expert a lengthy
Coinsure at least now for the negative on this gift of loveliness evil would move in treachery first in the
Garden and from that victory it would devalue a one can you believe this to be created to be loved
Cherished and adored what blessing belongs to all women but we know the deadly truth only our
Children are more misused than our women and this blessing was interrupted now a woman herself
Must strive to keep her footing or she too will be ****** into the evil workings and default herself from
Her true glory there is no greater sadness to see a beautiful created gift shorn of it true quality thrown
To the ground and trampled on that is what is so alluring about Cloud she is everything but still
Innocence flows from her she has a glow that comes from within that makes her translucent you could
Weep in her presence and she wouldn’t condemn or use it to her advantage no she would only lift
A gentle hand wipe away the tears it’s a pleasure to be in the presence of one herself waif like she
Creates in you a sense of well being mother is one of women’s name that doesn’t mean you’re left out if
You don’t have children it still your nature it’s the rapture men feel when they look on you but can’t
Explain what it is I must draw to a close emotions overtake instead of a cloud it is tears that make it hard
to Continue to all women my prayer is be real be strong and God Bless you

His :

i make my travel
reseeding you
                my dear heart
                      into a compact unit of storage

i relieve from our nesting comfort
dismiss our established downey base of cooperation
                                   cleave from our snared compromise

instead to bed and thieve an unshared atmosphere
guilty joy followed by joyful normality
no stale thing

unravelling light
  lifted
(secure
  that I've a capsule world
  when i turn
  toward our lap again)

goodbye of you i am mended
made completely free
                    on the first turn of a corner


& Hers :

you leave me
      on your travels (you-were-my-travels)
you leave me susceptible
my heart alters to become
       a weak permeable tissue of easy tamper
       membership structure is dissolved
         returned to the vital spill
           welcome fluent contamination
               villainess and godless vibration
                  of the goddess confession

dress hooked up past my waist
i'll power-**** away my morality on day one
each day following shall be made easy
  ushered along in brutalities slip steam
                        and the prom of eddies

back in time i've been working on something..
       i'll call it The ****** List
criminal joys and tasks of double self daring
committed
     (not folded over
       or veloped in the knicker drawer)
           it operates as a basking lurk
                               tucked discreetly
                                 correct behind the eye
                      a charm feature of the unconscious
when released
   it's something melkish and larking with energy
   tacking harm to my activated mischief
      kinetic value and uncontrollable spur

in your absence
     i am permissionless
abyssless
i account for nothing

nooks of the apartment
the memory of us quickly forms a ***** coral
i've stopped washing to suit this mode
my body, a journal of stains and earned bruises
i holla and bay at mementoes of our brace
and then stop at the near point of the neighbours tolerance

time has crushed in on its own thesis
become gummy and tenseless
skipping about in haphazard spasms
  backstep, bow and reversal
     now
          observably organic in motion
           and proud of its many personalities

Oh, You're Back Again !
    no, it is your ghost
is it a spy ? ... i doubt you knew you even had it
it threads in and out of my company
seeming baffled and far from its comfort zone
did i put you there ?
i don't call you
the physical you
because you said 'no phones'
              and 'only in emergencies' (is-this-urgent ?)
Is This Urgent ?!
i restrict where i live in here
     keep the windows widowed and veiled
it makes for an unreal canvas
i'm weeding for a correction
sensual precarious highs
violate
in a spate
with this time alone
i'll make our home a vile space
a defication
and i can make no sense assessment of it any
i fight against digestion within these premises
i stay still long enough i am softened and palped
            by a dense atmosphere and salivations of contact
and outside..

the streets are exhausted
and i've quite the nasty reputation
violence, baiting and thievery
inebriation and toxic language
i shall soon be policed
no doubt i've lost my job
for now our place is a dare for vandals
             when i am an insensible heap
                 and perspiring over you in delirium
                    they devalue the exterior

unearthing
i'll find my creative sprite
that is good
i had missed it
now this is urgent (this-is-mine-was-always)
i take up a notebook and puke it full
i take sticks in my mitt and scrawl my charcoal visions
the blood visions
   the primal mud
  on all our walls

can i piece back our home by your return ?
can I sufficiently correct the blurring history I've smutted ?
do i care to ?
no more fading into 'partner'
lease is up
you'll not find me here destroyed
or waiting
    naked but an apron with my hands cupped and mouth open
i'll have ravelled myself up tight
- having stoked my inhuman malady -
     i'll mate my own travels

                                                        ­             - aborted

My eyes are not sunlit windows to my own self, rather dimmed and tinted blockades to never give you a full picture. They are not a colourful array of flowers, they are dull and wilting weeds.

My lungs cannot breathe in and smell the roses because they are laced with tar, and not enough oxygen from shallow breathing. They are restricted from fulfilling out their purpose so I can feel 'okay.'

My ears will not listen to the buzzing of bees and the gentle wind- they will, however, listen to the screams between them and confuse help with hate.

My tongue does not taste of honeysuckle and mint, but rather ash and dried blood from tasting my existence. It formulates words laced with too much sleep and too little self care.

My fingertips do not touch as if I am handling the daintiest of flower petals, instead they trace a gravestone between my ribs with a purpose. They tear at my own skin and hair, or at least try to.

Do not devalue my battleground of a body by comparing it to a garden

Break down, forever crumbling.

microscopic sand brushes my skin like ashes

of dead ones poured onto Mother Gaia.

It whispers with the wind, I am still here remember me.

We both meet at the spot we agreed to unite at different times.

Does that devalue our promise?

One day we’ll get it right.

But for now, I write you into oblivion.

Seems less than what I dreamed of but my dresses

keep falling apart. I have become a seamstress.

I strive to prepare for that chance, where you will see my body

flowing and all things manifest.

Weaving destiny and intention into clothing

I offer to the Gods for my puzzle piece.

You with the draw-well eyes,
and gold ingots for hair,
with Silence as your name,
and catapults for legs;
I shall learn your name today,
I shall forget your face today.

Your draw-wells' potable water
will flow down your cheeks,
and your hair's gold will devalue,
and your mouth's silence will speak,
and your legs' wood will break;
nothing but your name shall remain.

Would you think less of me if I told you how much I want to kiss your thighs?
And your hip bones
And that v of skin
Feel the heat of your body that I can’t turn off
Even in the depths of winter,
Your warmth is in every cheek to cheek hug
Every brush of your hand over mine
We could be in the icy temperatures of the north pole and I would still feel a hotness in your fingertips when you pass me another layer
I’m a good girl
But looking at you makes me feel like I deserve a thousand detentions
I hope you know I love you when I think about your skin tight against mine
Your mouth hot on mine
My hands untucking your checked shirt
I refuse to call these thoughts *****
Because your body is so **** beautiful
The muddy soil around a bright flower doesn’t devalue its worth, does it?
I hope you know I think your heart is as powerful as the sun
You’re what burns every piece of wooden structure that holds my body stable
Human jenga
And even though you have no game plan,
You always win.

Don’t assume ANYTHING about me based on ANYTHING
You don’t know what IM THINKING just by seeing if my face is ******* up or if I look happy.

P L E A S E
Don’t assume you know me and don’t tell me

what I think
How I feel
What my motivation or intent is
What I can do
What I cannot do
Who I am
What I am..

You’ll always be wrong.
It will always be abuse.
Because only I can decide or define those things about me to you.
And they can change every second and I am the only person on the planet whose responsibility it is to define them
to decide them, to label them.

You don’t decide
You don’t define
You don’t redefine
You don’t label me
You don’t paste who I am to you
onto my face and then criticize it.

Don’t pin your idea of me on your mind’s wall to throw darts at to evaluate, to devalue, to label as something only you want me to be.

Or as something only you don’t want me to be.

What’s written on your mind’s wall about me isn’t reality.
What I want you to know, I WILL TELL YOU

Your job is to listen
Your job is to understand
Your job is compassion
Your job is not to decide, define, redefine, label, criticize some image of me that only lives in your mind.

Because doing that is a form of emotional abuse, & I won’t tolerate it.

i don't mean to encumber you.

or devalue, diminish, degrade, debase, reduce, demean, humble, lower, cheapen, burden, saddle, inconvenience, ******, hinder, cramp, denigrate, belittle, deride, depreciate you, or shoot you full of holes.

it's genuinely not my intent.

i just really need you to go down with me

in flames

right now.