Archive for the Poems Category

The Wrong Reflection

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, How to Heal, My Childhood, Poems, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 15, 2013 by Aya

If people aren’t like you

What are they like?

If  I’m not like you

What am I like?

people can  see me

Can’t they?

I should ask them

“What am I like?”

I need to hear flatteries

Saying nothing about me is just as bad as

Shame triggering poisonous attacks

makes me try harder

to be lovable

Like other people

My reflection’s off

I was trapped in the mirror

The fire of my awareness

Melted the hard walls

allowing me to see

Different directions

Into a maze

The journey is a labyrinth

my psycho experience

my somatic experience

No longer frozen in a reflection

I feel ablazed with sensations.

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

I want to be lost

Posted in Poems, Rants, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on January 7, 2013 by Aya
I want to be lost
I’ve used that as a shield
never before have I looked up to you
and not have to feel sherds of self protection
I don’t want to be hardened
I don’t want that part of my life to be real
I’ve tried to knock myself out
The parts of me that could never fight you
Because I couldn’t understand what was happening
I don’t understand what to do with the sensation
that has to fight
I’m afraid I’m gonna die
So i’ve been trying not to  live

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

Self-Hate Embrace

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, My Childhood, Poems, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on September 28, 2012 by Aya

Why should I trust you again

I had to love you

Silent wars on you

Couldn’t Breathe without you

Hard to sleep, nightmares about you

How did it feel

Getting your ass handed to you

The Door slammed in your face

At 18 pregnant with me

The memory is in the fibers of matrix

I could probably feel it for you, for us

Everything you said and did I was connected to you

All your snacks attached to me

Coconut Cakes, pickles

Sadness and shame

God she wasn’t on my side

Couldn’t you see it

She wouldn’t let me grow

She wouldn’t let me go

I had to drink the stuff that she is made up of

Poisonous vile acidity hatred

Cut for miles in a molten river down my spine

Some other people swim in my Nile

And we dance together

It’s a side of them

That only I see

I am the Hated ONE

It’s ok to hate me

I don’t understand why come

As fabulous as I am

God made me beautiful, as you can see

I am the the epitome of creativty

My hips are perfectly round

My skin like melt

My heart so soft

My eyes the depth

I like to move

I love to shake

I sing better than the birds

Your heart will melt

I am a mixture of the joy and the pain

I accept them both

I accept my self hatred as part of my growth.

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

Wasteland Love

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, Poems, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2012 by Aya
Come join me in my wasteland
I promise I have a cure
I lure you into my fakeland
No Faceland
empty promiseland
subract and minus and
Void
plus you
There are things you will find
I do it to myself
Questionings, Doubt, can’t feel and don’t move
Scouring and Burning
The sensations devouring
I didn’t mean to
Now that I know
My path is mine to plow
Wasteland, It’s mine to devour
All the horror
All the wandering
The Doubts and Questionings
I have other eras inside this lifetime
I used to spend time with Leon
It was like air back then
Air doesn’t stand still
How do I keep up with the wind
I peak back at us
That ease
Walking down the dirt road
I stand still in my storm
I see three abandoned dogs
Counting the cost in the prairie
Should one, they leave and come with me
Or stay, stay together has a family
What was I thinking?
They will find their own way
They have a family on the farm
They will find their way
Leaving them behind I change but at a slow pace.
 
© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

Am I Dead?

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, My Childhood, Poems, Rants, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2012 by Aya
My dreams never came true
Am I dead?
My biggest shame.
My biggest melt down in life.
I have never come back from
Something in me has given up
For all time
I suppressed this
The thought
'I minus well be a stripper'
because I felt that becoming an object of a man's sexual desire
Would be the only way for me to have any form of affection or be desired
Wanted, Liked, looked at as an object of love and affection
Instead of an object of hatred and disgust
Yes I was an object of hatred and disgust
My mother couldn't help but roll her eyes at me every chance she got
I thought that it was all my fault
I thought that I couldn't do anything right or worthy of a happy reaction
My mother couldn't help but to put down my life and way of being
And I mean couldn't help
I mean I understand that she did the best that she could
I bow my head in compassion
But I am in knots
I can barely live
I can barely move
And I can't seem to make myself function to make my dreams come true
Am I dead?
I didn't want to be specified or tied down by you
Defined by your personal restrictions
How come I can't figure it out as I go along
Oh well, we've already been through this
I really am done with that part
Subservient
Cut me like a tree
I'm nubbed 
Shaking
In Pain
REtarded and 
Inflamed
Frozen and 
Trapped
Demented, tormented
By Bigger and Older People 
Immature
I wanted so much for them to be
Mature 
To give me advice
To be the one I called on
To encourage me when I fail
To catch me when I fall
They all want me to just accept them for who they are
What does that mean?
I will only know when.

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

What Blue Ivy Will Never Have to Feel aka Trauma Vortex

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, My Childhood, Poems, Rants, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on August 4, 2012 by Aya
8 legs in the air frantically frailling
Somebody abandoned the infant
Like she was a roach, a turtle, or a centipede that always screams like that anyway
Bombastic squeals that no one ever hears
Only what’s behind my obvious poker face reveals, the
Fire in the bottom of my back
Rage and under – attack
Girl ain’t nobody hurting you
What the hell is wrong with you then?
Un-loving invalidation hypnotizing trauma spin
Full on tank and machine gun invasion
Crashing into the foundation where I sleep
The mirror is repetitive begging before my mom again
Can I stay with you
Can I be with you
Will you take me in
Oh, we aren’t really that close of friends
The vortex that always pulls me into
those beliefs,
those feelings
A whirlpool of energy
Swirling furious energy
I just have to be alone
Be Alone
Within IT – not me
Re-experiencing
unpleasant sensations
Letting go by embracing
Malnourishment
I never had
Never will
Somehow going to hell
Heals
© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

Ghost

Posted in Poems, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on August 2, 2012 by Aya
What is this Ghost that haunts, taunts, and paralyzes
Subtle
Powerful
Threatening
A glance
No presence
Presence in only a certain way
For the rest of your life
It never leaves you
Just like a mother shouldn’t
Off Balance
Not Well Enough
No place in the World Ghost
Vacancy where self – assured – ness
This Ghost is so smooth
You question you not It
This Ghost is sneaky
Only you see THAT side of It
The Ghost overtakes to you
Your Power and knowledge is the Ghost enemy
Some children see it and some don’t
Clouding up my days
Chaining my doors closed at Night
Terrified to really exist
The more I exist the more of the Ghost I have to face
Too Ilusory
Exorcise
© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

Rag Doll

Posted in Poems, Rants, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2011 by Aya
I am tired of being your rag doll.
I have spread myself far and wide for people who I could never say no to
I have been a rag doll for many men
A slave willingly offering my feminine sexuality
Offering the opening of myself to be engulfed for nothing by nothing
Its because of you mother, my natural predator, I was born to my enemy
Having to grow up and learn that’s its nothing personal
I’ve healed and learned that there is nothing behind all your antics
Your monstrous face
Your intimidating eyes
Your screeching, your yelling, hands on your hips, flailing, and straight up temper tantrums that have haunted me my whole life
Its wrong for me to get angry but permissible for you
Its wrong for me to have wants, needs, and desires but I fulfill yours
As a teen – ager I was obviously worn out
Tired from fighting with you, pleading with you, crying to you, trying to understand you, trying to get you to understand what I needed
For those outburst of self – expression I was shot down, slapped down, and shut up, told I didn’t have a place, a voice, and shouldn’t bother at all to live
Then you had no more use for me, you used me, and started telling my younger siblings that I was crazy
I could barely move
My frontal lobe is worn out because all I had left for me was in fantasy
There is no hope for me and you but there is hope for me
I’ll tell you a little secret that I think you already knew
I held on to myself on the inside and that part you could not control
I face you now again and again, the tears stream out of my eyes
I will make it and be all that I ever thought I could be
I don’t know if I will ever give birth but I will so
Laterally
The rag doll that you once used and toyed with and chewed, and squeezed and scatched
Knows that to become real, you need real love, and I have got plenty of that
I let myself know what my values are and I’m able to appropriately act
I let my body give me signs and post for I am valuable in fact
Emotional violence is very real and it created a scared cowering child
That turned into a scared and cowering adult but I am can healing now
Its hard to see the truth but I’m glad I’ve done it more than not
I will spend  my life as a vigilent adult
And you . . . well you will probaly still be scouring around like a vulture
Looking for your next prey because you can’t birth anymore children
What a wonderful idea for a predator like you
To make energy meals out the children that need and depend on you
And how wonderfully convenient for you to hide behind
The mask you made
Because all the laws are for adults
In the bible the children get laid
Out on floor for the lashings they deserve for being disobedient to the adults
Who apparently know it all
How can a child be disobedient?
In the constitution it says that all men are due rights under the natural laws of God but I guess that doesn’t apply to little people
Children are just the pets of adults
If it wasn’t for what’s acceptable to society and the image that everyone saw
You would easily take the next step after you were finished with your crimes and make sign that said,
“For Sale, Rag Dolls.”
You would sell your children off
Because to you they are not children at all
And this is where my understanding ends and perhaps you can take over and fill in because I will never understand that kind of indifference
No never, not at all.
This link leads to a link from a journal entry I wrote and a picture drew about how I feel in my relationship with my mother.
https://thescienceofhealingambientabuse.wordpress.com/?attachment_id=46
© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved