Paler than the oceans opaline tears-

Ancestor of glacial ridges

and

Alabaster outcroppings.

These spun silken scales wrap
this curving- shaped-like-time
hipster figured

said creature.

'It be a Girl-
breast contra bow!'

Like a siren on the dusty horizon
or as mythical in the least.
Leering at such a feeble man-frame.

'As I am a Titanide of Gypsum Lunar Lull,
in all of Gaia's verdant nectar spin
round my eyes, mote thy knowledge-
for I am gift of Woman!
A girl, be unripened fruit.

A man who plucks the immature crop,
encounters unsavory aroma and
a juice-less harvest.'

I realized, how empty i feel.
no drama, no whining, no bullshit loathe
Since I quit my job seemingly ages ago... A void, the apathy. The things that bring me joy, light and excitement seem unattracted to me. Being in this hole, like a negative repelling force attached to me like a repulsive smell, destroying everything that i love.
feels like a grave.

All that equals me love, scares me, failing me... them.
I just want to find love, in my life.
I have so much to give, as the lord as my witness.
My outlets, inspirations are an endangered species.

I find myself questioning everything -insecurity to a thread inside me. This disgusting pathetic troll of a person that makes me grovel to step on, dividing me. Kick, rip, spit and finally pound its bloody ugliness of a smug chin into the feces it dwells.


Did I mention I am searching for a way out of me, mess?
__________________________________________


Times like these;
praying for in existence, my own ego shallow.
At the same glance
a
shady character
wanting nothing but peace.

Love, like the last autumn leaf.
the final breath of a tree.
To the bony alabaster choke,
Ms. Winter.
Nearing the demise of cold sights.
Quaking, remembering the vibrations
of that leaf
hitting the ice
shard ground.

hope so low.
Winds howl and cry.

Sweet lullaby's
like turpentine,
wash over
my mind.
What to say?
With All
Words Said.
Archaic are these-
shaheed
shaheed
shaheed we

posses a hand,
where i, a cloud,
a vesper,
a blade of greenery
and flooding river,
of sincerity.
Thorn Barren Rose
I do not know.
Under weather Souls.
never satiated joy.
Insatiated Joy.
Rhythms of
The Saddest Sound.
Like A Heavy Harmony
No Sympathizing Note
Could Replace
Our Tone.

flooding river,
of sincerity.
weathered Souls.
never satiated joy.
Insatiated Joy.

Waking in the morning,
watching the light strike the glass bottles in my window.

Diamond like shattered refraction,
Early rise, surprise, wiping the drug haze from my eyes.

The dreams I have are too vivid,
for even my conciousness.

Wondering about in a lost land, long forgotten,
Once the child in me thrived.

Doubt I could be tried for internal homocide.


That light flickering, looked so clean & bright,
wishing an angel to appear.

I didn't really care,
dreams are nightmares,
with hast, I ignorantly
watched the droplets of my coffee.

_______________________________________________

A friend graced me with her company yesterday. Told me about this dream she had of the world ending and the US being blown to bits.
I relate to which I experience the similar, painful, dreams.

And no one cared, that the state of these states is devistating.
More concerned with shopping and their credit cards, in a nut shell.

----------------------------------------------------------------

When she and I are together it is this amazing synergy, she and i have many likenesses.
We amplify eachother, and it is beautiful.

Both share the curse, of lostness in this world.
I believe she and I were meant to meet to save eachother.

Both higher beings,
I honestly believe after we cure the curse of being damned,
are clandestined to heal the world.

I hope.

Every sensation acts as a painful stimulation.
Everything sweeps over me.

If I were a computer; Run DLL Error: SVCHOST.

The configuration stumbles, and cannot detect drivers.

My own wiring is cold, struggling to interpret mixed signals.

Many stale moments wondering,
'what the [bad word removed] am I still here for?'


Too many times, too often, I too young to ponder.

'One day all will be unveiled.'

'Shut up.' Saying to the quasi Buddha in my broken head.

'You aren't Confucius or the freakin Dalia Lama!'

Maybe it just makes life easier to pretend I am.
Some, only born with limited ways of dealing and overcoming.

Maybe who I am to become is insignificant.

It frightens me more to not ever find opportunity
to change, empower, heal others and myself.

Days pass and doubt waves throughout,
as if it were to be a newly documented brain wave.
__________________________________

It is said that we only limit ourselves,
for no real purpose except the instinct of survival.
Take a chance, and it could be your last one.

I've never lived my life like this until recently.

Things not going how anticipated,
unexplainable bursts of angst or frustration,
heavy breathe and uncontrolled 'chicken little' psychoses.
---------------------------------------------------------
I no longer have many ties with friends and family that I had.
Being a person heavily reliant emotionally
through such influential people in my life,
takes a severe toll without a mentor or soft shoulder to lean on.

Getting lost in my own head,
loosing my footing on everything.
Motivation seems not to carry any definition.

'I guess just for so long,
I fought, and fought, and had to fight for myself
and everything that I had, wanted, needed or stood for.
That I am so tired of trying, too lost to care.
Tired of resistance, failing, frustration,
stress, becoming upset or disappointed. '


Brings me to tears to think about how hard my life has been and I am only 22.

It isn't so much that the past hurts me
and over shadows the here and now.

The Phobic tendencies spread like disease throughout my body and mind, of trying so hard and failing.

Here I am, I just don't really know where, here is or could become.

A few weeks ago I walked on the street. People watching, and engaging in the normal activities of being alive.

I, always strolling with a shrugged smile, enjoying the brief whispers of a wind from the mountains and squinting from the sunshine.

I don't know, when I don't really ever thinking about too much, but this is a lie cause I am always thinking about something. I guess I was reminiscing over California still, it is an escaping thought from my current instability in myself.

I think about humans and being happy, at peace maybe a little prayer to the big One above or a mantra of delight to potentially possess through my pale alabaster finger tips.

Watching the colors of everyones cloths, colors + fabric = textured artistic divine. Maybe scowering the faces for a friendly smile or nod. It is easy to find enjoyment from others if you are me, every little bit helps even externally. An insight at the least?

It has been a number of weeks since I thought about this moment.

While pacing forward, though I were running to Mecca, a beautiful monk in Ruby and Golden Rod Robes with humble sandals walks past. A brief smile and a generous bow to me. Though he knew me for ages- knowing something about me I didn't already know, his look sent a message subconsciously I blurt out "Hello!" I meant to bow back, even fantasized about giving him a loving hug, but alas I censor myself.

In my own world that I create:

Mark said to me last night that he doesn't like my writing, and being the self-improving (neurotic) person that I am have lept into a search of the key that I have missed. Though, he said nothing to allude any particular assistance, "that is Mark".

I sit here asking myself; "Well, Jenelle, WHY do you write?"

"I don't know."

Irony, because this is something I swear to never say to myself because I always know. In a blind stance of justification. Maybe I write because I have nothing better to do with my time, so with my verbal incontinence, thoughts become language become my poetic splatter of a stain on my "e-paper".

"I don't care."

Stupid, really. Justification, is this what I perceive as my own "free will"? I don't have anything really to accomplish with my writing, maybe a verse or two that captures the moment to eternalize. I forget very easily things I feel, think or know.

Perpetually in a state of out-of-sync, those around me always in a whir wind of confusion from my second by second thoughts or who I am today.

So we are all a little schizophrenic. I am human, maybe crazy, but I bleed, even cut myself with a butter knife.

_____________________________________

Old ticks, that keep on ticking.

Self evolution; negating even mentioning it.

"Doctor Jenelle, what do you prescribe for this invalid today?"

"Justification."

Silly, still being that irresponsible person that you thought died years ago. A state of regression, I never could attain before.

"What is next?"

"I don't know."

What an odd world we live in.


Spending hours of quantum pennies, devoted to thought and faith, do I shed tears of neuroses and still feel naked. All eyelids backed, and frowns, I wish spared some light.

Lostness, seems to be the only consistent thing I share sympathy with nowadays. The comfortable uncomfort, of numb.

I live in a society that i need to be shaped to be a part of, I don't want this, I failed geometry.

As if living is an algebraic equation, and I supposed to = y to that x.

Maybe x should equal zero, so no predisposition, ignorance or ideal could make this circle a square.

The old band wagon of a thought would be:
"If you can't beat them join them."

What is with winning,
maybe in the end we all loose, maybe we find a treasure trove,
doesn't really matter in any light, dark,
or shaded gray.
My perceptions altered, and yet the irony of the void in my eyes to the love I love in everything.

A simple soul, in a rigid wave crashing in the many grains of sand on that shore.

Impending Fear, how erroneous the instinct.

This life,
these feelings we feel,
the ignorance that pass through us like the air we breath.

God never said to not forgot but to always remember.

I remember too much sometimes.

I write my pros and paint my visions,
but it never feels enough.

No, I am not empty,
but brimming,
overflowing with this love.

To give to everything.

I wont say everyone anymore, because we aren't a single one.

We are all.

I just wish and pray humans weren't so ignorant to deny THIS.
Days pass and I am that ray of light passing through the clouds,
mountains,
and sea.

We illude ourselves to believe THIS,
this shirt we wear,
the sidewalk to skip on-
is all we have.

Out of sight out of mind is a disgusting phrase we dare to tread upon.

Humanity everyday spits on the heart of what we have been gifted.

Manipulate Psalms and Sacred Verse for others own agenda, not for the grace of man and this earth.

I'd say it infuriates me, but really, it doesn't.

It pains me to the infinity of my empathy.

I am everything and nothing.

This nothingness frightens me
at times,
but I cannot
blind myself anymore,

and so I stay.

Laying in this womb of existence,
a sailor drifting on a sea
or a grain of sand sifted in the Sahara.

I, having these visions of non-singularity, dissolves and divides my inner most being.

Understanding that desire is suffering, but why is desiring something better for the universe suffering.

Why do I suffer for this need to heal, help and resolve?

Suffering because, I feel this necessity is too grand, too big for me to accomplish, but WHY.

I don't understand; I am here to do something so profound, sacrificing my ego, is it such a struggle to go above and beyond THIS.

Yet, in ways I do understand.

I am so grateful for the gift of life and physical feeling,
and I buried in a torn heart.

My means and capabilities,
the tools are packed in preparation.

But the world isn't ready.
Or prepared for souls like me,
many are scared of this,
fear strong souls.

Maybe I fear me too, so why must there be division.

We are all on that same ship
floating in an endless sea of
creation,
existence,
knowledge,
and nothingness.

It is so difficult to express my feelings to others without misunderstandings.

I am not arrogant nor am I a "know it all".
In fact, I will be the first person in class to admit I am but an infant sitting under the tree of life.

I am not depressed or
in crisis,
in fact, I am so happy
and loving
-it hurts.

My tears cried for mercy and peace.

At the mercy of the cosmos, people, politics, and God.

All of us.

I'd be crazy not to follow how I really feel,
however,
I would bet you any amount of quantum change the words hypothetically that I'd say to any therapist would call my crazy,
and label me with some psycho babble insanity and lock me away.

They don't need to lock me away,
I do that enough to myself anyway.

I am tired of hiding my
black,
white
and gray.

Aleister Crowley discussed how to understand the true divine-
you must understand that the universe is not only that warm glowing white light

but an equal darkness.

Dark matter.
The space between our
atoms,
thoughts,
and toes.

Yet, Crowley forgot the grayness.
We are in,
between,
on,
above,
and below,
all.

I believe

I am seeing,
and accept this.

Everything seeps into me, and today I wept because of this.

Today, I painted. It was an amazing feeling making love to canvas with brilliant colors, combinations, compliments and textures.

"Let me, hmm, accent this edge of the mountain to give dimension and perspective." I mumbled various internal chatter, as if it were a life changing theorem I was writing for the Nobel Peace Prize.

The allgebra of my art.

The past few weeks have been very taxing on my emotions. How do you know how to do something if you have never been through it before? (rhetorical)

I feel every step in my walk, are my first steps upright. Wobbling, bruising, falling on my head, a helpless infant on hardwood floors.

For a long time, time was such a horizontal energy. The intensity of running about to "get shit done", and figured out the busy body me = voiding empty hearted me.

Can you believe I haven't painted a thoughtful piece in almost 5 years.

I have changed so much, for which I am grateful. I sarcastically say in my head, "of course the more I learn about who 'Jenelle' is, the more I want to understand, and jarring questions", rushed, interrogating my eros or id.

Moving back to this horizontal and vertical ideas. You don't walk vertical until you have strong feet.

It is a matter of survival, being horizontal, grasping to the earth.

------------------------------------------------------

Some food for thought:

"Every thought, feeling, perception, or memory you may have causes a modification, or ripple, in the mind. It distorts and colors the mental mirror. If you can restrain the mind from forming into modifications, there will be no distortion, and you will experience your true Self. - Swami Satchidananda"

I am torn when I read this. I ultimately feel that the ripples distort the refraction of the light, but ripples make waves, and waves are the physical reflection of the moon in so many ways. What is wrong with having a colored mirror?

I know, I know- Maya.

Honestly, the mirror is the equal inverse of you, reflections.

But all it is, is Glass.

So dawns upon us another year.

As fresh as a clean towel from the drier.

The intoxicating warmth like it melts the cold right off the skin.

Cracks the ice within.

And then...



You suck the temperature out of the very fibers of the cloths being.

And drop it on the floor...



.

Because it now, is no different from any other towel.

To posses something as sweet as a thought.
To own an emotion?
And be of grace?

I always focus on the details
and not about what I really feel.

Strap myself to the ground,

But as I get older,
all things become apparent

I do find meaning in the subtly.
I never knew before.

I ride on a wind
...from my breath
.................-and palpating heart.


.....................................A tear that's a feather.
..................................Torn into a river


-----A chasm to a canyon...

.......................A hint of laughter
_______________________________________shutters a smile.

________________Quakes the freedom>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I, fearing to fear.....
.
.
A low tone howl________________

strikes lightening in the soul.

......................////There I stand, in the valley below.
......................Chasing thoughts, finding real being

I just saw the video. Oh, my, this must been my favorite video now next to 33.

love and vande,

bella

I wish I were a fish.
No matter my color brilliance, rainbow design-
no disease or predator discriminates.

The only determining factors;
lay my size and defeating might.
But even with dimensional difference,
the larger fish is just a better dinner.