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Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
There is little in this world that consistently causes our hearts more pain or which produces in us more need for forgiveness than rejection, especially from those whom it has cost us so much to love. It is universal anathema to the soul, and much of our lives can be unconsciously governed by the fear of it. So we find ourselves naturally asking, "Joy in the midst of rejection? Is that even possible?" Oh, yes! Not only possible but commanded of us who are believers in Christ. And not only commanded of us but ready to be gloriously bestowed on us like the most precious of pearls.

It's in the season of greatest rejection that we enter the season of greatest opportunity to discover the fullness of God's joy by discovering the fullness of His own heart. Walking in intimacy with Jesus through this searing pain may be one of the most priceless privileges of grace granted to us on this earth, for it opens up one of the widest doors for us to enter into the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, and there is no more obvious chance to die to ourselves and live for Christ than in that holy communion of suffering with Him.

It's there that we're most able to clearly see Him and best prepared to clearly reflect Him, and it's then that we're empowered to live our lives here on earth from the very throne room of heaven, seated in the resurrected presence of our Bridegroom, where the joy always runs full and over. So our deepest heartaches will turn to deepest joys when we embrace them for the sake of Christ, to gain Him and be found in Him, to know Him in intimate detail through excruciatingly sweet experience. We will discover that the Lord entrusts the most luscious of blessings and the rarest of secrets to the most desperate and thirsty of souls, and that He delights to place the loveliest of wings on the lowliest of worms.

The gifts of myrrh's sorrow which the Father pours into the vessels of our lives are poured first into the hands of His own Son and flow through His nail-pierced scars before they ever touch us. And as we choose to graciously receive them as such, we are filled up with Him and enabled to pour Him out into the lives of others, even those who continually scorn and despise us.

The gift (yes, gift) of rejection is the high privilege of being asked by our Commander to become His flag bearer, receiving the esteemed honor of marching beside Him at the center of the front line, into the heat of the battle and into the face of the "enemy" (the rejecter), armed with no gun and carrying only His banner of love over our head for all to see. It's a sacred invitation into a certain death for the sake of knowing His love more intimately and for the service of displaying it more gloriously.

And if tempted to refuse the privilege, let us remember these two things: this life is so much more freely, joyfully lived when we have finally learned to count ourselves dead to it and alive to Christ, and the flow of His agape love through us will only be as strong as what it costs us to demonstrate it. The greater the cost, the purer the love; the purer the love, the more we are made like Him; the more we are made like Him, the more attuned we will be to His own heart's breaking and to our own breaking of it.

Oh, that we might be purged of ever thinking again that our neglecting of His love does not matter to Him! May He cause our hearts to break and break until we see how much it does! May we know the world's rejection again and again until we are finally scoured clean of our own despicable tendency to reject Him in favor of all our worldly playthings! No lover has ever endured more rejection than our Lover at our own hands and by our own hearts. And no lover continues to love through rejection with the determination and desire, suffering and sacrifice, tenderness and tenacity of our own Bridegroom. Can we not endure whatever He has called us to suffer for Him? Can we not allow it to drive us more fervently to His heart?... Lord, capture us by Your mighty hand and consume us by Your mighty flame, and may we pant and pine only for You, for Your love sets us free to dance in the midst of the fire!

How humbling, mystifying and worship-evoking it is to realize that the One we have so grievously rejected is the same One Who so perfectly understands and longs to comfort our own heart's grief when we are rejected. And to not run to Him now for that fellowship of healing would be to reject Him all over again and to break His heart once more. What could hurt Him more than our stubborn resistance to share in both His sufferings and His comfort when there is so much joy and intimacy waiting to be had with Him? Whatever ache our own heart knows, however deep and scathing, it cannot compare to the ache of His own heart when we let anything pull us away from Him, for He is rightly EVERYTHING to us—Father, Husband, Lover, Best Friend, Brother, Confidante, Kindred Spirit, Counselor, Nurturer, Rescuer, Healer, Hero... Behind the pain of every rejection is a legitimate need or desire that He is waiting to fill in us, and we have to let Him get to it by dying to our fleshly ones.

Or do we suppose that we might ever find true and lasting joy apart from dying to ourselves and abiding in Him when He died so that we might fully live in the joy of that abiding? No, true joy will only follow abiding; abiding and dying walk hand in hand, and rejection throws open the door for all three. Man's rejection is central to God's wooing, for it shatters our false expectations of human love and stirs in our hearts the longing for a perfect one. So let us not shrink back fearfully from that which can do us such good and teach us to love as Christ has loved us. With renewed passion, let us ask Him to wrap every affection of our hearts more tightly around Him that every desire might be united with His own and that we might learn to love in a way that sets our lives and the world around us ablaze!

To be despised and rejected and, still, to love—that is the ultimate triumph of Christ in our hearts, for we are never more like Him, never more full of Him, never more surrendered to His heart and His work than when He pours out His love through us to those who will not love us back. When we can stand in the face of bitter, cutting words, contemptuous looks and shaming mockery and still love fiercely but with a gentle and quiet spirit, we will know without doubt that it is His Spirit moving gloriously through us... Lord Jesus, Who so willingly floods our hearts with Your most precious gift, Yourself (and You are Love!), teach us to ever know You more and to rely fully on the love You have for us and ARE for us in infinite supply. Teach us to feast on the abundance of that love, and let it flow freely out of us to the ones who would reject, scorn, mock and hate us, so that they too might one day taste and be consumed by Your perfect love which drives out all fear—Your infinite, immeasurable love which heals all wounds and fills all emptiness and gives meaning to all of our pain. You alone, O LORD, are able to truly and purely love through rejection, but You live gloriously in us, so unleash Your mighty waters through us. Your love is everything, for You are Everything!...

Our all-sufficient Bridegroom is able to work His agape love most perfectly in us when that love poured out to another is not ever reciprocated, for it forces us to finally let Him fill us with Himself alone and to rely completely on His love instead of on the love of another to meet our heart's deepest hunger. The need for His filling IS our deepest hunger, and so our soul comes most alive not when it is loved by our fellow man but when it receives and pours out Jesus' love to our fellow man, expecting nothing in return but more of Him. Thus His love is made complete in us whether they ever love us back or not, and the fear of their rejection is eventually driven out by His perfect and perfecting love.

Even if love is never returned...never even received...it is never in vain, for "love never fails." To love someone, though we mean nothing to them, may seem too cruel a burden for the heart to bear, but the only thing worse than not being loved is to not love, and so the greatest tragedy of love spurned or lost would be to stop loving. For to cease loving that which causes us pain would be to let the pain win, but for as long as we love, really love with Christ's own heart, no matter what else happens, we win.

Love without pain remains unproven and, therefore, is meaningless, but love through pain invokes nothing less than the miraculous and inspires even the incredulous. The purer one's love, the more pain it causes when it is rejected, but only continued love can redeem the pain of loving, and only a perfect Love can heal love's scalding wound; the more scalding the wound, the better primed it is to receive that perfect Love fully into it.

There is great romance to be found in unrequited love that keeps loving, though it is beyond any human emotion or fleshly capacity or mortal understanding. It is a most sacred mystery which cannot be grasped with the head or even the heart but only with the spirit, for it is a love whose connection to Christ remains unsevered. There is perhaps no intimacy to compare to it, for it drives us to Him like nothing else will. It is a love whose longing for the other gives us the greatest insight into God's own aching longing for us. Only when it has cost us everything to keep loving do we begin to understand the smallest fraction of the wildly extravagant love Christ has for us or of the brutally scandalous pain which it has cost Him, and it will leave us in utter awe of Him and in love with Him like we have never been before.

As our focus is turned more and more toward His love for us and toward all of our previous rejecting of it, we will come to clearly see that agape love and rejection have everything to do with the the hearts of the lover and the rejecter and nothing to do with what the beloved and the rejected have done or deserve. For obviously we have done nothing to deserve God's love and He has nothing to deserve our rejection, yet He never stops loving us and we keep rejecting Him in ways we can't even comprehend. No one has ever known more rejection than the only One Who is completely worthy of love. Every time we sin we reject Him in favor of something else, but still He loves us without fail and without end. He loves us because He is love and because He has chosen to set His love on us. We are absolutely and irrevocably loved and accepted in Christ Jesus, and nothing and no one can ever change or mar that love. Our identity is completely secure in Him simply because of Who He is and who He says we are to Him.

Therefore no amount nor depth of rejection by anyone changes anything about who we are in Christ or our worth to Him. We do not need any man's love or acceptance to validate our worth, for it has already been established in the heavenly realms by the only One Whose verdict carries any real and lasting weight. We are significant and precious and holy to God regardless of what anyone else thinks of us or says of us or does to us. What has their rejection got to do with us? Nothing, for we are His! We are chosen and we are beloved! And so we are freed from the fear of rejection when we see that it cannot define us or taint us in the sight of the only One Whose opinion or judgment matters. It's a glorious thing to finally care what no man thinks of us, only the Master, for then we begin to be free to love all men as He loves them and to pray with deepest sincerity, humility and fervor even for those who spitefully reject us.

And even for that one who has hurt us most deeply, who has crushed our heart and thrown us to the wind like chaff without so much as a glance back, we will pray, no longer with only a slight and distant hope that he would return to us but now with a passionate desire to see the prodigal return to the heart of the Father. We will pray, not with a focus on life with him but with a focus on life for him. We will pray for a total and glorious restoration of his life to Christ, even if we will never be there beside him to share in the fellowship and joy of his homecoming, even if we will never get to experience up close in this life the thrill of seeing the Lord make something beautiful yet of his ashes. And this may be the hardest and truest test of our love for him—this painful sacrifice of desiring his absolute best apart from us. It is a wrenching blow to our pride and to our will (not to mention our codependence), for we had so longed to play the Muse and to awaken that beauty in him. So we know we could never yearn or pray for this out of our own strength or wisdom; it is simply too painful to our flesh. We must be led into it and through every delicate step of it by our loving Redeemer, our Bridegroom, as if He were leading us out under a canopy of the starry host and into the most intricate and intimate of moonlit dances. And so we begin to pray and to dance...

But even wrapped in Jesus' arms we are clumsy, stumbling miserably over our own feet. The music is perplexingly unfamiliar and the steps wildly unpredictable, and our toes feel terribly pinched in these new shoes. Maybe this dance is just too hard for us. Maybe we are not yet ready. Maybe we should sit it out for now and try again later when our shoes are a little more broken in or when our heart is a little less broken apart. So we pull away...

But He tenderly beckons us back: Dear and beloved bride, broken-but-beautiful one whom I have made My own, do not push Me away now, not after I have brought you so far. I have many more secrets to share with you and so much more to show you of Myself. But you are not letting Me lead this dance, beloved. Why are you so rigid in My embrace? Why so worried over the next steps? Let go of everything and abandon yourself to My love. Enjoy Me...Follow Me...Lean into Me...Keep watching My face...Let Me move you however I desire us to go...Trust Me...Love Me. Shall we dance, then?

Yes, we shall and we do! As He draws us into Himself, into the prayer of His heart and the dance of His Spirit, and as we give ourself over completely to the impulse of His leading, the details of our words and the precision of our steps give way to the desire and passion of His will, and the pulsating of our heart swirls to the rhythm of His own. The further He pulls us into union with Himself, the more we find ourselves desiring this same intimacy-with-Him for the very one who has so badly hurt us, for we see how badly he himself is hurting without it. We realize now that his running away from us and toward another is just as much a reflection of his insatiable yet misunderstood craving for God as was all of our running toward our own idols (including him). Our soul aches for his redemption and his healing and for his lost sheep's heart to be brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light that shines from Jesus' face, that he might truly know the pleasure of knowing the One Whose pleasure he was created for.

Somehow, through this heightened and mysterious intimacy of prayer for him, we are now discovering a strange and new kind of intimacy with this very one whose intimacy had so often given us the slip, this one whom we had so long loved and lived with but failed to uncover at all, and the fresh wind of it drives us even deeper into the ache of God's own heart for him and for us. It is at the center of that ache that we are finally able to let go of the hurt and the man and leave the matter entirely in God's hands, understanding that the Shepherd's aching heart knows fully all whom He has chosen and will never stop dealing with or seeking after any of His own sheep. And so...


                        We release to Him with a heart of trust
                        This one whom we love and always must
                        We can let go the man and rest because
                        It's out of our hands and always was



But the dance, like the feast, goes on and on, and the more we dance and the more we feast, the more we heal. Our Bridegroom wounds us by His own providence but washes our wounds with His faithfulness and binds them up with His love. The wounds and their healing make us beautiful to Him. They teach us to know Him, to hunger for Him, to enjoy Him and to please Him. And they get us perfectly ready for that most glorious of dances and that most joyous of feasts which are still to come but, perhaps, much closer than we might dare to imagine. It is time to awaken, dear bride of Christ, and to break in our dancing shoes!
~~~


"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."
~ 1 John 4:16-19

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
~ Romans 5:2b-5

"As you come to Him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
~ 1 Peter 2:4-5

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
Surely He took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed."
~ Isaiah 53:3-5

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things... I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death..."
~ Philippians 3:7-8a,10

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
~ 2 Corinthians 1:5

"'Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets...But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.'"
~ Luke 6:21-23,27-28,36

"Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

"You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:11

"I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
~ Ephesians 3:16-21

~~~
kara lynn bird Jan 2013
chasing other people's dreams
like a star catcher with a net
she holds onto hope
while deceiving devastation
reaching out her hand
for the next victim of inspiration

baring scars upon her body
like battle wounds of lifetimes before
each cut from failure of another disappointment
leaving her exhausted, bruised and sore.

she's a rescuer-
a fixer upper
new siding on an old slab house
fresh paint on horribly marked walls
fresh breath in a room of stale air.

her heart beats at the ache of another
tears ravage her own cheeks
for the sake of someone else's heartbreak
she's a rescuer
a fixer upper
for another person she will always wake-
while waiting for someone to save her.
I'm having a pitty party for me, myself and I...it's an exclusive guest list.
With every passing second, minute, hour, day
my happiness keeps slipping away.
Further and further into a hole.
I fall deeper and deeper with nothing to hold.

A rope is thrown in hopes to save,
the falling girl, but there is no escape.
For she missed the rope, it was out of reach.
Yet this rescuer hasn't given up on me.

Why would you stay to help the helpless?
Why are you trying to find a bottom to this bottomless pit?
So many questions that will have no answer.
Who is this angel, my rescuer?

Why spend your time on someone like me?
What do you see that is so lovely?
What makes you think I'm a person worth saving?
My rescuer, this angel, she's my safe haven.

Maybe it's not me, maybe it's you.
This can just be something you do.
You like to help others, you have a good heart.
You help me because that's the type of person you are.

But what if I'm special and important to you.
Yes you help others, that is what you do.
But maybe you'd choose to help me over somebody else.
Maybe you really want to see me well.
While you may care about others, you also care about me.
Maybe you help cause you love me.

She is finally back with a longer rope this time.
I could surely reach it with a small climb.
But my mind is telling me I don't deserve this help.
That her time would be better spent on someone else.
I don't think it's true, it just can't be.
I didn't ask for help, it was offered to me.
Why would it be offered, if she didn't care?
There are enough nice people in this world to share.

So I jump up and reach for the rope.
And as I grab hold of it, I also grab hope.
Hope for a better life, a happier one.
I was losing this battle, but in the end I won.
I won with some help, and that is okay.
Because at the end of the day, I feel great.
And now that I'm safe and happy again,
I can go thank my new friend.
Who made me smile in the midst of my tears.
And helped me overcome some of my fears.
She literally turned my frown upside down.
She had the power to turn this poem around.

Not only did I gain a friend, but an important lesson too.
I hope if you are lonely this will help you.
Darkness is only there to help out the light.
After all, the brightest stars shine during the darkest night.
Yenson Jun 2022
The poor girl said
I so sorry, but I'm afraid they may turn against me, please understand

The near brownies said
please forgive, they will start picking on us if we don't go along and do as ordered

The Preachers says
we have to be as them, we are cultists and already marginalized, if we didn't they'll isolate us more and it helps our recruitment

The weak and insecure said
this is a no brainer mate
for once we get the opportunity to feel relevant and play the fool without the usual disapprovals

The reluctant ones say
we feel oppressed and bad but they are coercing us daily and we just don't have a choice

So their moral compass compromised, their free-will imprisoned
their integrity abused and disrespected, their brains washed, their dignity rubbished, their minds poisoned and internally they are stressed, uncomfortable and feel enslaved. They have been dehumanized because their Narcissistic masters decides so...







Anyone who remembers watching the Wizard of Oz as a child will probably remember how horrifying the Wicked Witch of the West’s flying monkeys were. These monkeys were sent by the witch to do her ***** work, and the phrase has since become synonymous with people who end up doing the ***** work of a narcissist.

Flying monkeys get caught up in a narcissist’s plan — often to damage the life of another person. The narcissist may use their flying monkeys as piggy in the middle, carrying information from party to party. The flying monkey may use gaslighting tactics, open aggression, and guilt-tripping in order to make another person feel bad and weak, whilst shoring up the narcissist. And they’re often involved in pleading the case of the narcissist. Narcissists love having flying monkey, as it makes them feel important and means they can appear to be above the people below them who are caught up in the messy parts of the drama.

Some of the reasons people become flying monkeys include:

Self-preservation and protection.
Forming an alliance with the person perceived as like us or our organisation is one reason people adopt this role. Telling tales, spreading misinformation, and using gaslighting techniques against anyone who dares to question the narcissist might just mean you get to keep your job and don’t find yourself on the receiving end of narcissistic rage.

Rescuing the narcissistic "victim."
If you tend to fall into a rescuing role, you may feel compelled to jump to the defence of the narcissist who blames everyone and everything for whatever is going wrong in their life. Sticking up for the narcissist meets your inbuilt need to feel valued and needed because of your rescuer role.

A loss of sense of self.
Some flying monkeys are so browbeaten by the narcissist that they have far less capacity than otherwise might be expected when it comes to knowing right from wrong. They may have experienced years of emotional abuse at the hands of the narcissist and have lost a sense of self and independent decision-making along the way.

Loving the drama.
Some flying monkeys really thrive on the drama. When you’re involved with a narcissist, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll be involved in a few dramas along the way. What can beat the adrenaline of being caught up in lies, secrecy, and deception?

Being a narcissist.
Flying monkeys often have strong narcissistic traits themselves, including a desire for attention, a lack of empathy, and a desire to bully and manipulate others. They may be involved in a work, or other situation in which they know that their best opportunity to fulfill their narcissistic desires comes from allying themselves with a more powerful narcissists.

Being used by a narcissist to take care of some of the least desirable aspects of their business is always going to place you in a compromised, stressful environment and you should ensure that you have the appropriate support in place when you choose to change your role.
Taylor Jan 2015
1. Make sure you are not dating him just because he is a sad boy. Make sure you are not dating him out of pity either. Date him because you like him, sadness and all.

#2. Do not expect yourself to be able to fix or save him. Be prepared to love him as he his. He may not ever become less of a sad boy. Make him smile when you can, keep him from being alone. But don't try to be his rescuer, or his savior. Help him keep it together when you can, and let him break on you when you can't. Do not try to change him.

#3. If he has physical scars, kiss them. Run your fingers across them. Tell him you love him and his scars. Not for them, not despite them. You love his scars because they are a part of him, and you love him as a whole.

#4. Do not feel guilty if you can't stay with him anymore. If it becomes too much, if you just fall out of love. If you just can't see yourself with him. Do not blame yourself, do not hate yourself. Just let him go as kindly and cleanly as possible.

#5. Do not hate him if he leaves you. Remember sometimes things end. Do not try to convince yourself that he needs you, do not hate the next girl he dates. Do not go to her and try to tell her how sad he is, how he will destroy her with his pain. Because we both know that isn't true, not really. And it isn't for you to decide.

#6. A warning. Relationships with sad boys rarely last, even if you think they will. He isn't your patient. You aren't his angel. This isn't a story book where you'll put him back together and he'll love you forever. If, by some miracle, you do manage to change him. If he becomes happy and "sad boy" becomes a thing of the past. Do not be surprised when he leaves you, because chances are, if he's truly changed, he will.
I'm creating a "tips" series.
Ra Mar 2013
You are
A rescuer but not an enabler
Grounding, mother
skilled, strong
ordered
soft, kind
beautiful
intense
You make me want to cry
K Balachandran Feb 2016
It's her, the woman of steely resolve,
who fills every lighted part
of my consciousness,so thankful, I am to her
The wife who never lets down
her man who faltered and fell,
love being the ***** in her armor
she is careful not to hurt there,
our eyes exchange texts, only
we could read and an instance

She was the one who found me out
lost from the neighborhood of her heart,
brought me back from the outback
from the jaws of the beasts of prey,
where i was stuck in a thorny thicket,
lost almost for ever bleeding,pale,
if only she didn't decide to conduct
a one woman adventure, a rescue mission
against all odds,with much *****,
and presence of mind, one rarely see
even in alpha males,who habitually
boast aloud,of having ***** to stand up
against any adversity and fight.
For me it was she who did it and all alone!

Young and callow,
a bird of infirm wings still,
alone i flew long distances
circled around,hallucinatory visions,
lost my way, eventually went down,
my love may have failed before,
but she happened ,in the moment of epiphany,
otherwise would I ask her , without a second thought
to be with me all through the journey of my life?
It would not have been,but her heart listened
to my voice wistfully spoke to it, as if becoming weak,
caught in a storm lashed over the thicket and
she came searching at the right time, rescuing me .

Gun fights and volcano eruptions we survive,
even thunder storms, mad dog attacks and cheats,
broken hearts and misfortunes of every kind too.
Never do I forget this dear face of courage,
the woman staying firmly behind me, a sturdy rock,
sticking to her faith on me and a prayer on her lips,
with the staunch belief that I'll come out a winner.
Lovingly dedicated to sweet Lady M, a fearless fighter
wife of a dear friend, in appreciation of her fighting his battle
with dark demons these days sticking with him, while he still continues his walk in the dark, towards the beckoning light..
aldo kraas Aug 2023
He's a rescuer
And he was
Rescuing the
People that
Was drowning
Also he gave
Then CPR
And nock on wood
They are fine now
Nick Strong Jun 2014
I deal in death, the reaper stated.
I am the debt collector,
The gatherer of souls.
I am the Grim

I deal in life, the god replied.
I am the light giver,
The soul rescuer.
I am god

In neither death nor life,
I deal, remarked Cupid.
I merely facilitate.
I neither give nor take,
I barter only in Love.
Take it or leave it.
I am Cupid.
Baylee Kaye Jan 2019
his love stretch’d down from heaven above
with my peace derived from his affection
once astray now brought to life
lost in an untamed sea, but
o, what joy - o, what joy
he found me
d.c.
lins Feb 2018
so
let’s talk,
old friend.

what is it
that you want to say
to little old me?

I’m not good enough?
you don’t trust me?
I’m not sure that’s my fault.

I admit there were
issues with our ship,
but I didn’t wreck it.

here we sit
old friend,
on this deserted island.

each searching for
something the other
just can’t provide.

I’m going to get up and run
to the arms of my
Strong Rescuer.

while you sit in the sand,
and continue to cry because
no one will save you.

I’m truly sorry
that things didn’t
go so well.

but here’s the thing,
I’m making my way
off this island.

you won’t come with me
so I’ll have to leave you behind,
but you have to at least try.

I’ll see you again sometime
in the future, once you have
let your feet lead you to the Rescuer.  

for now,
goodbye
old friend.
Sam Winter May 2013
T*hree seventy-five. At my current muscle weight, that’s the amount of force, in pounds, with which my fist smashes into my opponent’s face. Flesh molds against my knuckles, vessels rupture under the impact; I am that unstoppable object, that destruction you can only watch. I am that confused, hurt, angry child. I channel it through my arms, conduct it through my knuckles, watch it spark and jump from fist to cheekbone. This is the therapy I so wantonly crave, so needed. The only place I can vent the full wrath of my frustration upon the world; or…at least, a single member of it….

Jump back three days.

     *Why can’t I see you more?
I text her. Because I don’t want a relationship. She says. I don’t need a relationship. I just want to see more of you. I tell her. I’m afraid I’ll invest too much. She says. I don’t understand. Is that a bad thing? Seven years of friendship, two of off-on dates and rendezvous. How could you get more invested? What else can you spill after your hearts in a pool at my feet?
I drank a lot that night.

Jump back four days.

     I’m coming out that way. What are you doing tonight? I always initiate…everything. Always the first question, the first proposal, the first, the first, the first. Am I that threatening? Going out with friends. Homework and going out is all this woman seems to do. Maybe one less night with friends, one more with me wouldn’t hurt? Cool. Celebrating a birthday with friends, we’ll be out and about. Maybe we should meet up? If I’m here, she’s got no reason to refuse me…right? I thought distance was our only problem. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I don’t want you to see me stupid drunk. What a stupid excuse. I actually want to see you stupid drunk. I will at some point if we keep things up.

     Long story short, a guy she sometimes ***** is going to be wherever it is they’re going, and she doesn’t want to have two guys she’s seeing in the same vicinity. What does that make me? I’m getting frustrated with all this confusion and sideways talking. My group incidentally ends up at the same place they are. I don’t even talk to her face-to-face. I’m such a sporting guy. She goes home...alone, to my relief. I get stupid drunk with friends. But never forget to message her back and act like everything’s cool.

Jump ahead a week.

     More conversations to clear up why I fill only one void in her life lead to more confusion. I’m frothing with it. It’ll be in my mouth soon. Wait…I taste it already.

     “Let’s drink and pick fights,” I say to a couple buds. Two hours out, we’re sloshed and trading licks in a back alley. The guy that had taunted and jostled me in the bar follows us out and picks a fight. Says I’m too drunk. Not worth it. I hide a smile, raise my arms, “Let’s see.”

     Shirts are off. Left hook to my ribs, I pivot an elbow, deflect with forearm. This leaves his side open. I duck his wild right-hand and drive a straight hit into his open spleen. He hits the alley wall. “Still want to take a drunk?” I taunt from my knee. He comes back, still sure of himself. I’ll show you what confidence does to us, my friend. He puts up a boxer’s guard and comes back, more cautious. Friends and enemies cheer and joan around me. I don’t hear a thing. There are thoughts. Dark, confused, smashed together, waiting to be dealt with. I focus on all of it. I focus on his face. I listen to the conversations that leave me more hurt and alone than they should. I lean into a false waltz stance, he doesn’t notice the feet. I notice his. He’s more drunk, on less, than I. Every time you breathe, I hope you think of me. The mass in my mind flows through my arms and legs. I charge and he punches straight where my head should go. I dodge right, grab his wrist, snap in and pull out, stringing him in an invisible flaying bed; my left elbow crosses his solar plexus, throwing him to the ground. Knees pin his arms. The hate, and anger, and confusion, and helplessness dissolve between fist and flesh, arc across the pain in my heart and the bruises and blood flowing freely from a fool....

Never entice a man with a need to portray his problems upon a heedless world.

     His friend steps in and plants a well-thought-out fist against my jaw. The one on the ground is down for the count. My friends don’t step in. They know me. I roll off him before his friend’***** can follow through. Now I have physical pain to channel, too. I grin and my assailant isn’t comforted. This is the release I need. This is my way out. This is what will help. *******, world. ******* girl. **** all of you for your games and your feelings and your mysteries. To hell with why you think you need to hide your heart. Wear it on your ******* sleeves. **** your dishonesty and your insincerity. **** your exes. May you all drowned in your lies and guilt and shame. **** you for assuming I’d ever judge any of you, for not taking my love at face-value, for thinking I had anywhere near the ulterior motives you all harbored. My left hand grabs his left elbow, simultaneously blocking a right jab and flipping his arm out of the way for the full force of my right arm into his ribs. A cacophony of bone and flesh giving way to my wrath meets my ears. He yelps. Never yelp when you’re trying to be strong for a friend. Keep your ****** lips closed, *******. He recovers only slightly before my right meets his face. My arc is perfect: the momentum of muscle as it curves the natural twist of a muscled arm, the darkness of my life gathering on knuckle-tips like obsidian gems glinting in the ***** hallway between worlds of vice and vindication, the cording muscle releasing the pent-up rage of a thousand lives gathered in one body.

     Connection shatters worlds. The horror of life bleeds across his broken window to the world. The reflection of my jeweled nirvana winks across his eyes. See the world I live in, failed rescuer. See the hopeless honor I hold in my *****. Sleep with the knowledge that even when you try, someone will always be there to flash the dark, jaded realities across your eyes…and bring you to my level.

     The other friends won’t budge ‘till I’ve stepped past. They part like the Red Sea for me. My ark is empty until I interact with the world tomorrow.

Brief peace is better than none.

-###-
katewinslet Dec 2015
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It is normally since you also are yet to got any expertise to say no. Getting the fear connected with reducing the other person'a appreciate. Once an individual answer what you see seeing that irresponsible actions, regardless of whether you let them know just by conversing right up this is, you become some sort of rescuer and invite his / her behavior to keep. Because codependents, we tend to grapple with needing finding look for for endorsement out of some others. Furthermore concern really being deserted or even invalidated, which is why you result in saving or perhaps enabling an additional. In our thoughts, the world thinks we'll be noticed rewarding together with a accomplishment since we've got made it simpler for one additional. It's possible that we could basically preventing battles and additionally problems damage would certainly arise after we would words all of our experiences. For an enabler, people are determined to defend the other person even if we will have to loss a little something with our personal lifespan. All of us you can easily "fix" what ever difficulty all the other ****** looks. We all normally realize it's another person which is the individual that preferences enable. As it pertains down to business, it is usually either which might be short of advice. Since we comprehend things are all how they seem to be on account of a lot of our helping and when we decide to research guide, where exactly do we turn? Very first, it is recommended to discover that merely over weight . the cause of the second peoples condition.

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Waiting4TheStop Feb 2015
Her voice is soft: "Sweetheart, come.
You look like you're in need of some company."
She takes my hand, stroking it gently with her thumb.

Slow steps, I walk in a disjointed pattern. Two, two, one, three.
She does not hurry me.
Around my waist snakes an arm.
With my sharp intake of breath, a note of alarm.
"Aww petal, it's okay. I mean you no harm."

"You're alright now, your fight is over."
She says taking my bloodied revolver.
Exchanging it for a torn and red stained four leaf clover.
(C) 2015
Joel Feb 2016
perscuter
victim /_\ rescuer

here's to ending this pyramid scheme:

the rescuer is:
jumping bean in trauma closet
the persecutor is:
a vampiric silence
the victim is:
numbness prostituting for warmth

and they shift ominously like phases of the moon
What's in a name?
Let me tell you a story,
Of how my life changed,
And how my name changed,
Every time it appeared on the newspaper.

Replaced by a pseudonym,
Something to do with courage,
I was namelessly admired, slandered, and debated over,
Media’s Exclusive Coverage!

The newspaper headline read in big block letters:
“14 YEAR OLD GIRL SAVES SIX KINDERGARTNERS”,
That made me smile.
Just maybe I thought we had come that extra mile.
But no for I noticed,
My name was changed,
And the Printing Department was not at fault.
That’s just how my country dealt with ****** assault.
I never asked them to hide my name,
They had presumed, of course, that I was ashamed,
Of saving lives. It took me a minute to remember,
I had called Jyoti Nirbhaya for years.

I wanted them to know who I was,
Hiding I thought was for criminals,
Until I realized that I WAS one when,
On returning from the hospital I saw,
Pain in my mother’s,
Anger in my father’s,
And disgust in my relatives’ eyes.
No idea why a part of me had come expecting pride.

In school my “friends” guiltily refrained from talking to me,
Neither were my teachers too happy to see,
That I had returned to the same school,
Bringing with me my painful story,
Which I had mistaken as one of glory.

And when I went to receive the “Bravery Award”,
Only the trophy didn’t read compensation award.
They looked at me with too kind eyes calling me a “hero”
Their smiles told me they meant violated.

As I received the award,
I saw they were trying really hard,
To not let it show,
That they wanted me to know,
The difference between:
Bullet marks on the chest to bite marks on the breast,
Blue around the eyes to blue around the thighs,
Scratches on the fists to cuts on the wrists,
Loud screams in the cold to muffled screams against the cold,
The red of the torn ligament to the red of the torn *****,
The difference between a soldier’s and a victim’s blood.

And suddenly I felt as if I was,
The rescued,
Not the rescuer,
The maimed,
Not the fighter,
The oppressed,
Not the rebel,
The hostage,
Not the warrior,
I thought myself to be.

What’s in a name?
Apparently, a lot.
The name of the girl who is a **** survivor is always changed and replaced by a pseudonymn in India.
Dánï Feb 2014
My name is a reflection of you,
The manner in which it's pronounced makes it all the more true.

My talk is a reflection of you,
The accent in which I speak in is all you- a sign of a sick tribute.

My walk is a reflection of you,
The way my left foot follows my right, and how my thighs are placed together- never bidding adieu.

My sleeping schedule is a reflection of you,
How I stay up in fear of you coming but not being seen by a rescuer- always out of view..

My thoughts are a reflection of you,
Paranoic and the over-analyzation of everything following through.

My mirror is a reflection of me,
Tainted, shattered, distorted- indefinitely.
-d.***
Keiya Tasire Jan 2019
Who am I?
Why am I here?
How do I grow?
Where do the words that I utter spring from?
How do my actions unfold to take flight?
What are the roots of my habits both desired and not desired?
When did my character become undesirably ripe?
As defined by Another?

Piously pompous extruding expectations
We both wagged the tail of judgment from our respective roles.
Each casting the wands of incantations, illusions, and lies!
One to change the controlling illusion
Another to maintain it's web and power.

It was handed down from the very first mothers
It was handed down from the very first fathers
It was set into motion from the very first breath of the very first lie.
It created the very first shadow of darkness that fell upon Truth.

Tainted, "It" fell from realms of Light, the realms of Love and Joy.
"It" tumbled and rolled down the family Tree
Branch by branch, twig by twig, and leaf by leaf
Deeper into the darkness, grief, sadness and pain.

We were taught to ignore the dragon of dysfunction
Lying among the branches of our human family tree.
As "It" grew and grew, and grew.
"It" matured and gave birth to expanding prodigies
Who fained deeds of compassion, fained loyalties,
Fained emotions, and fained love

To twist and to alter reality,
Aimed toward total power,  riches, and total control.
Using the swords of Expectations,
Judgments, half truths and lies, they waged war!
With their army of
Every wolf in sheep's clothing
Every entitled the fair-haired child
Every hero - rescuer
Every "I am the victim"
Every fearful guilt burdened peacemaker,
Every misunderstood black sheep,
And all the unaware lost lambs.
The cycle of dysfunction turns
As a companion within the wheel of time.
We are told to never speak of It and deny It's existence.
This is the power that feeds It as It expands.
And we find ourselves beyond the ability to contain "It."

One day our eyes open to awareness
We come face-to-face with "The Choice."
Do we go back to sleep? Or do we get up?
And if we stand up, what is next?
When we see our unveiled past, will we fear and hide?
Or arise as a seeking warrior of Light?
If we choose the Light will Love begin to arise from the darkness
Will Love transform "It" to find It's-self Immortal & Eternal?

Give me understanding of Love!! With Understanding I will seek!!
Standing between the windows of time past, present, and future
With the root of addictive desire, laid upon the alter
Banished! Gone!! Released!!

Will the Darkness  release "It" from the depths of grief, sadness and pain?
Without a word "It" became a He
And He draped the blanket of courage over His shoulders
with the Light of hope in His eyes.
Refusing to never give up
He dawned His Innate strengths
Refusing dire circumstances
Letting go of confusion, ignorance, vises, grief, blame, and all ill desire
He stepped straight and firmly into the Light which expands!
He stood with joy in the Light and looked back

As "It" became a She
And She draped the blanket of courage over Her shoulders
with the Light of hope in Her eyes
Refusing to never give up
She dawned Her Innate strengths
Refusing dire circumstances
Letting go of confusion, ignorance, vise, grief, blame, and all ill desire
She stepped straight and firmly into the Light which expands!

The Light embraced Her and embraced Him
They stood together seeking understanding
Their hearts opened
Each to sing their own song of joy, of love, of peace
Together in harmony
Dancing  in the Light as One.

So with courage, do my actions unfold to take flight!
With joyful Love the words uttered within my heart sprang!
How, I do grow!
I am fully here, awake!
I know who am I, really!
Because  in silence I sat upon the earth
As He sat upon the Earth
As She sat upon the Earth
Looking toward the heavens
She female and He male
Focused in silence, they taught me how to breathe.

Now throughout the generations of Time
We began to breathe as One
Together in Love, in Peace and in Unity.
Reaching and holding each other
Beyond and through the Wheel of Time.
The questions of our life stirs each of us to some kind of action. The actions we each choose are unique to our own personal life path. We each bring to our personal path ofseeking - our personal understanding about truth, our beliefs, acculturation, and family patterns. Of which culminate into our strengths and weaknesses.
By choosing understanding in the challenges of life, we are armed to step into a path of increased love, forgiveness, heightened spiritual growth, increased awareness and higher consciousness and love.
If we choose the path of ego defences we continue the dysfunction and the further weakening of our humanity, families, selves, hearts and spirits. This poem is about becoming aware of this process and the choice we each have.
the dead bird Feb 2016
depression
is not crippling sadness
as most think it is.
well, sometimes.
it is
apathy
most of the time

who cares?
no point.
everything *****.

I lost my job today
cried, a little
but I cry about everything.
mainly
apathetic
now I truly have no reason
to ever get out of bed
sure,
I'll look for another
way
to live
but this *****
leaves me with no motivation

no motivation
to apply to colleges,
even though I have
a 3.9 GPA
no motivation
to hang out with friends
even though I am
lonelier than ever

no motivation
to eat food
even though I am
starving

after
I left my now "old work"
I had the impulsive decision
to rescue a dog.
maybe
if I have another creature
to look after
love
feed
I will start
to care for myself, too.

the shelter
made my heart hurt
the kittens
weren't crying
just
sleeping
in their jail cells
uninterested
in life
or their possible new
friend
looking at their possible
rescuer
with disinterest
looking
through their cage
like me.

finnegan
was a terrier mix
a stray
he was whining
licked
my hand
when I reached to him
eight years old
missing
his right eye
life has trampled him
yet he is not hardened
I cried
with him

as I walked him
around the play area
he sniffed everything he could.
curious
investigating
not crying anymore
just happy to be free
from the hell in his cage
he
treated the workers
with affection
like he treated me
with affection

it took awhile
until he came close
and cried while I pat him
climbed in my lap
and cried
I know
buddy

walked him inside.
the woman,
at the counter
looked at me eagerly,
"so?!"
I looked away.
can't
do it
not
today
I'm sorry

him and I
are both looking
for affection
love
a way out of this mess.
but
I can't help him.
no job,
no sure way I can buy him food
buy me food.
I can't
buy a living creature
out of impulse.

he needed security
I cannot provide that
only warmth.

I need to be happy
he cannot provide that
only warmth.

goodbye,
cutie
puller of heartstrings
I promise
someone better than me
will take you away.
not today

lost myself
lost my passion
lost my lust
lost my job
lost
my
soul.
it is everywhere in my life it is unavoidable it is me
A peace permeates my heart
lights gleam in my eyes
when I feed the little birds
feel all darkness soon dies.

Disappear chunks of my woes
a smile breaks on my lips
as I hold them warm n close
my fingers kiss their beaks.

A bliss they give without price
that dissolve my aches n pains
when I look deep in their eyes
touch there a divine innocence.

In rough tides my solace
rescuer from life’s quicksand
they import me a happiness
while pecking from my joyous hand.
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
Girl
Can't be anything but
A girl
*** an ESP
Girl
Sensitive is weak
Girl
Rescued becomes rescuer
Girl
Dance for yourself
Girl
Water burns too
Girl
Came from his rib
Girl
He came from you
Girl
Bodies in quicksand
Girl
Stabbed your origins
Girl
Cheered for your tears
Girl
I told you so
Girl
When you went off alone
Girl
Perfume and death
Girl
While your wearing a ring
Girl
See the imprint it leaves
Girl
As you chisel it off
sarrahvxlxr Aug 2014
She lived a selcouth life,
far too warped to be believed about,
amid her favorite symphonies
and spellbinding verses that never end,
mad about gritting chains of twisted worlds
as she painted oeuvre of art locked up in her core.

"It is but a tragedy to take wing in your flight of fancy.
Let me guide you to the world that you loathed to see,"
a melodious affliction I told her
as I sighted the glisten in her face shattering into ruins.
"Darling, look at all the beautiful people,
look at the horrible things they utter.
Why are you terrified of the piercing gunshots?
How is the aftertaste of blood
surging through the avenue of misguided folks?
I hope you are enjoying the show.
Come, let me bare to you a whole lot more."

And she wept, screamed at my face,
threw me strings of her innocent voice,
she choked and it cleaved me up inside.

What have I become?
A murderer of this child's peace?
Or a rescuer from her naïve make-believes?
That Girl Oct 2012
Another ordinary day
Or so seems from the
Outside I portray
I'm so content on the outside
While my whole inside is
Dark and grey
My enemies reflect magnify
And measure my flaws
My friends are hurting from the pain that cancers cause
It's not just one
It's so many building up
It's time to fix all this
I've had enough

I try to take matters
Into my own hands
Refuse to listen to
Gods perfect plan
I try to perfect my self
Craving for escape
And when I cave in
It's not even worth the taste
The numbers don't match up
And this is getting tough
It's all these things inside me
All bottling up
I've got to fix this all
It's getting so rough

I peer into the eyes of uncertainty loss an hurt
I try to stay open
when others slam you out
I can see what your going through
I know what hurt is all about
I want to show who
Is helping me
But when I'm falling fast
What example can I be
Fix this please!

No one getting any sleep
Im losing fire inside of me
I need some oxygen
I need to breathe

You're losing hope again
The smiles are just pretend
You need a rescuer
You need to be set free
AM Snyder Feb 2016
No one ever taught me not to stick my hand in a fire, I just learned by common sense;
but here I am again, grasping for you and watching my hand blacken and burn.
Because every time you say that you don’t know what to say,
I want to call you a liar because you just spoke.  
But being speechless speaks louder than words and
the absence of sounds swallows me whole  
until your fire was all I saw and like a fool, I reached for it again.  
But as I did, in the darkness I couldn’t see that my paper heart
was starting to burn.

We all grew up too fast, pushing through pull ups and graduation robes as if they could be worn twice.
We learned that excuses and “I’m sorry”s could be said again,
but that didn’t undo the damage already done.
Now the angry redness of your ears matches the redness of my future and I can’t help but wonder how I could’ve messed this up so badly.
But then I remember that I have a PhD in impulsiveness, poor decision making, and panic attacks.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions,
so down I lay cobblestone after cobblestone until I reach the gates but I never enter.

Who needs hell when I have your fiery red hair and temperament
that develops into a burning rage that scorches my skin with silence, when I’d rather be slapped with sinful words that PG movies don’t allow. All I can say is that I tried, because that’s what we all do in this world; we try.  
Try our best, but fail anyways because success is for those who get lucky and this world is nothing but a game of chance with lottery tickets costing you more money than you will ever win, but we believe that there must be some essence of luck in our lives because we keep buying tickets.
She thought she was lucky.  She thought that in an oceanic timeline, surrounded by blue, that she had found a brown boat, brimmed with buoyancy and broken dreams that you shared.
She climbed into that boat, and side by side you sailed neither of you realizing that you were sinking.

That is the thing about the boats in which we sail, even when we assure ourselves that they will never fail.
In this world, we all have our own ships, but the trick is that these boats can only hold one passenger.
She had her own boat once.  She lost it, in maritime madness, one reason or another.  
When her boat was swallowed by the sea she started swimming, trying to keep moving. Sink or swim they say.
So as she swam, she spent all her energy and instead tried to tread and keeping her head above water was no longer a game that you played in summers spent at the shallow end of the pool.
It became a constant question of survival.
She must’ve been lucky, for your ship sailed by and
picked up the poor girl who then became a passenger of someone else’s vessel.
This boat was worn, and her captain had tried to patch the holes but as the two sailed, the ship began taking on water as they went.

When training to be a lifeguard, they teach you quite a few things.
Mouth to mouth resuscitation(which sadly is no longer actually mouth to mouth),  first aid, CPR, and how to pull a drowning victim from the water.
When people drown, our instincts kick in and we grab for  anything to keep ourselves above water and breathe.  
We don’t mean to hurt anyone else in the process but we just keep fighting for air.  
Sometimes the people push their rescuer under and even though we may try to hold them up, if we don’t breathe too we’ll drown!  
So what lifeguards are taught to do is if they are being pushed under
is to shove the victim off, swim away, and save ourselves.
Now some may say that sounds selfish and how can we do that when we’re supposed to be saving them, but we can only save them if we’re alive.  If we can breathe.

You told me dating me was like a breath of fresh air,
because when you were with her, you were held under for:
1, 2, 3, 4…10 seconds, 20 seconds, 30 seconds, 45, 83, 104, 255, 1013… 63,072,000 seconds - TWO YEARS.
So of course, I understood why you swam away.
Away from the girl who broke your boat because being drained of energy was something I used to do to others.  
I ****** the acid out of batteries and I walked on power lines, licked light bulbs, and suckled sockets because I too was once a drowning victim and but I hit the water was shocked by the electric energy that I had drained from him and it was hell.  
The hell that I had laid cobblestones too, the hell that one day I might see you in, because we’re all sinners here.  
We aren’t human if we don’t make mistakes, and ****’t I’ve made mine.

I fell from the ship and sank until I hit rock bottom, which was  somewhere right between a razor blade reef and pill popping plankton. It’s funny how solid rock bottom can feel beneath your feet, because we’ve been on our boats or in the water for so long;
but you can’t stay down there no matter how badly you want to
because your lungs are screaming for air so you push yourself up and struggle for the surface.
The Marianas Trench is the deepest point in the ocean, and I’m pretty sure that’s about where I landed.  
And I’m sure that if it wasn’t for a difference in timing, I would’ve seen her at the bottom too.
But that’s the split between me and her, because right now I’m back in my own boat and I’m breathing in fresh air but she’s gasping for a breath. She’s struggling to breathe but her lungs keep taking on water.

This doesn’t happen to just her and me, but there are hundreds of thousands of people out at sea.
Some decide to perform a self mutiny by mutilating their minds and jumping overboard and the truth is that not everyone makes it!
Some open their mouths underwater while screaming for help
but instead their shouts are choked out by the salty ocean that surrounds us all that we continuously mistake for our own tears.  
Some people are smarter. They wear life jackets, while the rest of us
use others as life rafts until we figure out how to rebuild our boats and I’m here to say that you can.
No, it’s not going to be easy. It’s never easy.  
Learning to swim wasn’t easy. When you first learned to swim you thought you would drown then, but you survived didn’t you?  
If Jack Sparrow sailed the sea, so can we.

So here I am, breathing in and I’m floating on,
trying to teach others that mending their ships is a pain but they have nothing to lose and so much more to gain.  
And there you are and if dating me is like breath of fresh air and you're fire, do I just continue to let you consume my oxygen until I choke on bitter words and stutter on sentences that I can’t spit out?
Sure my boat has holes in it and sometimes, the patches break;
but I have found that letting water in just isn’t for me so don’t plan on using wooden scraps of my boat to light your fire anytime soon because I know that even though this ocean seems vast and never-ending, we are all sailing somewhere.
Hopefully, we’ll get their soon.
Rachel Doty Nov 2014
Once upon a time
There was a girl who dared to dream
In the cold, air conditioned room of reality she sat
For hours on end
Suddenly, her rescuer appeared
Golden yarns of sunshine leaked through the windows,
Wrapping themselves around her,
Pulling her away
In the blink of an eye
She was no longer in the place of gloom
But in a magnificent garden
Where flowers of every kind, like her,
Dared to bloom
She tarried there
For hours, days, weeks
Sitting amongst the blossoms
Admiring them and befriending
The other children who would arrive from their own prisons
Each backstory unique,
Some grotesque, some disheartening
But that mattered not
For the children would wrap their fingers
Around each other's cold hands
And begin again
In this new, dreamlike place
Alexis J Meighan Aug 2013
Saturday morning cartoons in the late 80's

Beeeeeep
Beeeep
Beep!

Blankets get thrown
Quick yawn and a stretch
And I'm gone.

Run to the cabinet grab my rescuer's toothbrush and colgate.
Its the total complete toothpaste
Brushing frantically in the pantry and I grab the frosty flake
You know they're  Greeeeeeeat.

Get to the sink and rinse with a swift swish and a spit.

Done with that, as I dig through the drawers for my plastic Punch Bowl.
Pour in the entire box of cereal and a half gallon of liquid gold

6:53am tap the power button on the remote control, stack all the pillows and blankets in the middle of the room, 5 min left till my favorite shows

7am and it begins, Spider-man and his amazing friends 7:30 and its the Wonder Twins
Commercial break for school house rock,
go take a ****
then switch my cereal to cookie crisp

8am silver hawks and the copper kid,
8:30 voltron black lion forms the head
While thunder cats at 9am battle Mumm-Ra the un-dead

930 pound puppies that was my thing
Bright eyes, violet, and cooler was the man
When 10am came that meant the shows were coming to an end.
That half-hour reserved for Prince Adam of Eternia better known as He-man

And the last of the shows came after 1030 to 11o'clock. Here came "the Little's" cuz the Little's don't stop.

The sunlight peaking through the blinds, 11 years old, cereal all gone spazzed on a sugar rush, Waiting to play with my cousins.
Grandma picks me up from uncle Gary then off to Dain and Tony for destruction, bike race, GI Joe and burgers from Rally's
Those were the days
The good ol days

-Alexis J. Meighan-
July 13 at 8:11pm ·
Manisha Uniyal Nov 2015
Invisible line of faith
balances the rocks of life
the sun and the moon
the day and the night

hopeful desires of the heart
and the guilty reasons of the mind
many a questions unanswered
line of karma, hard to find

Passive contentment
that everything is right
Or
the proactive approach
for the future bright

Dwindling thoughts
from extreme left to right
Rescuer brain
finds the middle path in sight


Manisha
Adam Childs Mar 2014
The sweet scarlet lady
Condemned by the collective
Piously cursed by all
As they revel in their
contemptuous scorn
As a cocktail of lust and hate
Is dealt to her by many
With a heart crushing arrogance
In this dark hidden world
The spite of the respectable
Is poured over her with a disregard
That burns like a molten lead
While on Saturday roses are pruned
And front doors are painted
She collects the angst
And disappointments of lost youth
Of the sleepy bitter soul
As she becomes a giant dustbin
For this world

What great resilience
What amazing strength
As her ****** center dissolves
All the unhappiness of this world
As she is a hidden angel
Defiled by the world she absorbs all
For she is painted with the projections
Of the worlds forbidden fruit
But she is the rose tinted lady
Dreaming of greater times
A coffee in st Peterburgs square
Oh what a brave dare
filling her sisters needs
With all these gracious deeds

Living in this thankless world
She is the rescuer of many men
Used and abused by
The emotionally inept
She remains centered
In a hidden dignity
Only known by her
As she gives and gives
Many faces made and portrayed
As she gives herself up
She becomes a plasticine
For the childish souls to play
As she lives in a surrender
That no monk would ever know
Her surrender so complete
she disappears into her center
A holiness the devils mock
And all the angels and Jesus flock
Her submission to nature carrying
A purity that says yes to life
In the back drop of this world
The Lord can only find a relief

If we find the surface of a ******* *****
It is only because we project
The dirt of our own soul
As we defile their outside with our inside
As they are truly hidden angels
Sent to clean this world
Geno Cattouse Jun 2013
Unrepentant with a hole in her soul
The brass faced liar has steely control
Nothing fazez her. no fib was too big or small. Man this girl was a smooth criminal and a really close acquaintance

She would give a polygraph the shakes
and it's our little secret. umm, Mom and dad know.
family secret.

I reversed engineered the brass faced liar
and all the tumblers clicked.

The truth to her is like Kryptonite to Superman.
I dropped a small stone down her throat one day and counted to ten
before it hit bottom with a far away clunk..

Faceof brass ,heart of stone.animal rescuer
Liar to the bone. Manipulates children poor self esteem
Brass faced liar isn't what she seems.

Out.  To impress now.finally starting to dress now
Drawing flys like rotten meat.

Wicked comes in all shapes and sizes
Turn back the covers,know what your surprize is ?.

A zombie in a guilded mask.
Long dead and putrid..a walking talking husk.

Lies pour out of her mouth like green blowflies
And crawl back in under her disguise.
To fester.
Brass face jester
R.I.P.
SøułSurvivør Apr 2017
I was once a castaway
Of an unforgiving sea
I made a castle in the sand
To ease the pain in me

I made the ramparts ten feet tall
The walls were four feet thick
I filled the moat with lots of sharks
I built it brick by brick

I walked the walls most every day
No rescuer about
But I did not want folks to come in
I wished to keep them out!

The sand was cast in hate you see
The mortar my foe's blood
I repaired the walls quite often 'coz
My inner tears would flood

Within the walls, a prisoner,
My anger was my meat
My only water my own tears
They washed about my feet

Finally the water rose,
From weeping, o'r my head
Their waves erroded at the walls
And the SEA was fed!

Whilst the walls were quickly shrinking
A tide, like floods, came in!
All the sharks went out to sea,
My destiny was grim!

I made a fine, tall castle, yes,
Of sand & shells & grout
To shelter me within? Oh no!
To keep my loved ones OUT!

And others unforgiven.
And the ones I hated.
And other prejudices, yes,
That went on unabated...

And so I found a Mighty Rock
Upon which I stood.
I finally found life's meaning, YES!
I finally understood!


Forgiveness? A DECISION.
To put pride on the shelf.
And freeing up your fellow man
You  become FREE YOURSELF.

Though for years, I drank my tears,
My thirst was never slaked.
And hatred's fused & melted sand

Does not a DIAMOND MAKE.



SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/3/2017
I've been writing a book about my Scientology experience. And in doing so I found I had a root of bitterness in me. Not only towards Scientologists, but toward a lot of people who have hurt me in my life. It cost me a great deal of mental anguish. I ended up making a decision to forgive again. Throughout my Christian walk I've had to do this. Forgiving others is not an option. In order to be forgiven by God, you must forgive other people. Think of all the ***** rotten stinking things you've done to others I thought to myself. They may not have forgiven you. But you still need to forgive them. And forgive yourself while you're at it! So I asked God again to give me the willingness to forgive. I made the decision to forgive. And I do forgive. Forgiving does not mean forgetting. You don't let people hurt you over and over again. All it means is that you are relinquishing them of the debt that they owe you. And you, in turn, are forgiven of the debts you owe as well.

Unforgiveness is like self-administered poison. It can cause all kinds of diseases. Cancer is caused by stress. Arthritis can be directly attributed to unforgiveness. One of my major problems physically is osteoarthritis. And there is a strong possibility that I may have cancer. I do not wish to have either of these things obviously. So the first medicine I'm going to take is spiritual....

That's why I call myself SOULSURVIVOR.

I'm writing and reading on the internet again, obviously. See you soon!
the dead bird Mar 2016
I am the
ugly sofa
on the side of the street,
frumpy
with
stuffing coming out
of my sides

forever damp
from the multiple times
it has rained
in the months
that I've been outside
waiting
for a potential
rescuer
to come
and give me a home

for them to sit on
lay on
have *** on

no
rescuer
to come
only
mold
mold
mold

some kids
decide it would be funny
to drag me
to their backyard

not the living room
I was thinking of
nope

not even
a roof
over my head
just
a place to sit
while they smoke ****
and laugh
and shoot squirrels
and drink beer
and ash their cigarettes on

oh well
what more
can a
moldy
frumpy
discarded
old couch
really hope for
anyways
it's 11:30 and i haven't written anything today
Jenish Sep 2020
Solo bird
Strayed in the
Ocean sky,
Prayed

Heaven sent
Vulture,
Appeared for rescue.
Maybe one day you could come
And all this dimness, disaster and darkness could vanish.
I don't know what it is but only my mind can cure it,
Except imagination isn't real
And that's why I need you to turn up
And steal
All the things wrong with me;
All the feelings I'm not supposed to feel;
The ones I don't know I feel,
And replace them with ones I used to hope I'll one day feel.

Eventually, will you be here?
If I think hard enough,
Pray all night long,
Sacrifice myself to God,
Would you finally come to me?
Stand right in front of me and be you,
Just as I see right now?
I don't think I can live outside of you,
Please won't you live in my life too?
Valerie Feb 2014
"Four - Breaking Even"
February 4th, 2014
Valerie Viele

I am a creation. I am a maiden. I am a creator. I am a crone.
I am dawn. I am noon. I am evening. I am midnight.
I am a girl. I am a temptress. I am a neither. I am a goddess.
I am a daughter. I am a *****. I am a mother. I am a lineage.
I am a sister. I am a best friend. I am a vague acquaintance. I am a messenger.
I am a child. I am a ******. I am a lover. I am a wife.
I am a princess. I am a beauty queen. I am a damsel in distress. I am a warrior.
I am a daisy. I am a snapdragon. I am a rose bud. I am a lilly.
I am a smile. I am a wink. I am a laugh. I am a snort.
I am a frown. I am a cold shoulder. I am a forgiver. I am a resolver.
I am a question. I am a questioner. I am a question mark. I am a answer.
I am a butterfly kiss. I am a bumble bee sting. I am a cicada hiss. I am a caterpillar tickle.
I am a cupcake. I am a box of chocolates. I am a glass of wine. I am a bowl of oatmeal.
I am a doll. I am a model. I am a celebrity. I am a infamous figure.
I am a game master. I am a rule-breaker.  I am a tyrant. I am a player.
I am a brat. I am a train-wreck. I am a witty retort. I am a knowing silence.
I am a ballerina. I am a dancer. I am a performer. I am a choregrapher.
I am a goodie two shoes. I am straight "A." I am a graduate. I am a mentor.
I am a tomboy. I am a mess. I am a fresh-pressed suit. I am a mumu.
I am a sneer. I am a red pair of lips. I am a pout. I am a broad grin.
I am a skinned knee. I am a bruised ego. I am a battered soul. I am a healed heart.
I am a piece of candy.  I am a piece of work. I am a master piece. I am a peace of mind.
I am a bubble gum "POP!" I am a whip-smart "CRACK!" I am a below the belt "BLOW!" I am a humble "WHISTLE!"
I am a kick. I am a slap. I am a hit and run. I am a sly trip.
I am a hug. I am a kiss. I am a ****. I am a cuddle.
I am a favorite. I am a nobody. I am a somebody. I am a everybody.
I am a challenge. I am a one-sided opinion. I am a worthy debate.  I am a open mind.
I am a bicycle. I am a fast car. I am a train. I am a stroll.
I am a pony tail. I am a bleach blonde. I am a practical bob. I am a braid.
I am a bracelet. I am a gold ring. I am a necklace. I am a bead.
I am a broken bone. I am a victim. I am a rescuer. I am a nurse.
I am a singer. I am a song. I am a composer. I am a listener.
I am a leader.  I am a runaway. I am a follower. I am a team.
I am a bubble bath.  I am a long shower. I am a quick rinse. I am a ocean dip.
I am a pond. I am a frozen lake. I am a waterfall. I am a river.
I am a castle. I am a tall tower. I am a skyscraper. I am a bridge.
I am a banshee. I am a blood-curdling scream. I am a yelp. I am a squeak.
I am a pretender. I am a liar. I am a deceiver. I am a revealer.
I am a sob. I am a woe-is-me. I am a wallow. I am a single tear.
I am a why? I am a why not? I am a no. I am a yes.
I am a sleep over. I am a house party. I am a coffee break. I am a tea time.
I am a today. I am a now. I am a tomorrow. I am a yesterday.


SSK<3
This poem can be read traditionally, right to left, top to bottom.
Or you can read it top to bottom, by each column separated by a period.  There are four columns.
Example:  I am a creation. I am dawn. I am a girl.
OR
I am a maiden. I am noon. I am a temptress. I am a *****.

You get it. :)
preservationman Nov 2015
While many slept and all nuzzled in their beds
There were others driving on the road
The winter mist all happened like this
The biggest snowstorm suddenly came
It was direct with precise aim
At first the snow came down light
Then with the added fog it became a blinding sight
What a holiday feel in the Christmas reel
As the snow got heavy it became a blanket of white
To all the kids it was a beautiful sight
School would definitely be closed
The Teachers would be happy also I suppose
Kids all played in the snow
Yet this was a day to make a snowman
Cars, trucks and buses all stuck in where they were
Buses not having any heat
Stranded with no food to eat
Everyone caught in defeat
Suddenly a dog driven sleigh added towards rescuer way
There were no words that anybody could say
Mighty as the snowstorm
It was a definitely a adventure being the norm
It was an icy chill
Everyone nuzzled together in warmth being still
Mind over matter
Oh yeah there was plenty of chatter
Like a miracle everyone made it through the snowstorm
A snowstorm that all started that night
It was one bright star that shined ever so bright
It once seemed snowstorm was going to cause a plight
But the snowstorm brought people together and no one was uptight
As another night approaches and I say good night.
wren Jun 2021
the forgotten child is nearing the end of their adolescence.
these thoughts have swam inside them for a decade
rumbling, roaring, ramming against their barricade
it was not me that was forgotten, but the naïve child inside me
i've spent a decade reserving my right to tell the awaited rescuer
that the child and i prefer to stay at our safe haven.

i am a body of 22, but a mind of 12
naïve 12 turned pitiful, pessimistic 14 turned people-pleaser 17
turned naive 18 turned pitiful, pessimistic 20 turned
please just come back, why did you never come back

i'll never stop wondering why i had to create my own safe haven
i've spent a decade reserving my right to turn away my wrongdoer
it's silly of me to think that you returning makes you a rescuer
nature versus nurture, a baby bird kicked from the comfy nest
a decade-long vacation from being a parent, abandoned until i grew
the forgotten child is nearing the end of their adolescence.
Kylie Hailstone Jun 2013
Self deceived, I squander marrow,
I masquerade the straight and narrow,
Seasons stretched, my essence hollows,
Desire, dreams and purpose follows.

My journey dulled by everyday,
Monotony, days veiled in grey,
Life's sombre ruin underway,
Significance, my yesterday.

Deceit defends; my bow and arrow,
Mentality in disarray,
Love recedes, eternal sorrow,
Vitality wearing away.

Before me you materialize,
Rescuer, hero undisguised,
Bore truth, bore love, to my surprise,
Abetted, found what underlies.

Imminent growth, restored, I ascend,
Weakness' welcomed, defenses end,
No longer wish to play pretend,
More pleased than I could comprehend.

Discovered where desire lies.
Forever impassioned, we transcend
Forsaw my future in your eyes,
My flame, my lover, my best friend.
Brittany Rosado Nov 2011
The brightest star up in the sky,
My head tilts back as I look up to my hero
The star light kissed my cheek, and glows against my bones
Sweet, Sarcastic, and serious – so solid with compassion
I can call upon him at any moment, and without any doubt,
He will be there if it’s a car crash, broken toe or a stupid boy who crashed my heart
Time never seems like an obstacle to be a super hero
Sweeter than a big butter cream flower on my birthday cake and selfless for his blood
I’m a princess of the king
He’s a soldier and was a hero in the god forsaken fight of life
Taught the best lessons by the most heartless teachers
One would think he’s granite cold
But none the less he’s hot coffee
Warming you through after the first gulp
Reaching out to every sense
Comforting and calming the tension
In your bubbling veins
My father is my rescuer
Peanut butter lover
A freshly crackled glow sticks in the dark
A fighter for love and life
He’s my daddy and my friend
I’m his little girl for life
JT-TJ Oct 2010
The death toll is still rising,
our pain has just begun.
A tragedy has happened,
in this city under the sun.

Airplanes that were hijacked,
and filled with human life.
Beaten and tortured along the way,
while some were killed with a knife.

Used for mass destruction,
the airplanes hit the wall.
Everyone was powerless,
as the Twin Towers began to fall.

A plume of dust and smoke,
both fill the city sky.
The towers crumbled downward,
and our country began to cry.

Survivors walk the streets,
wondering how this can be.
Dirt and smoke have covered them,
and there barely able to see.

Some are trapped inside this mess,
hoping to get out.
The rescuer's are working hard,
trying to hear them shout.

Another plane hits the Pentagon,
with a mighty blow it seems.
Here we sit in total shock,
and listen to the screams.

Now our country is in pain,
a war is on the way.
This world unites in tragedy,
on this hurtful day.
I know it's been many years since this has happened. And I don't mean to hurt people all over again... It's just that I remember watching this all happen on the news, and this poem was written shortly there after. I've been wanting to share it with people ever since, but I didn't know how....

— The End —