|Mijn liefde, mijn leven is woorden en familie. Twitter: @MandiBen IG: roodbennett My life is words.|
An Evaluation of Life
Some are blessed by the birth they received. Others will be working till they are five and sixty.
You want to evaluate life; you have it good enough if you can have a smartphone and write your *feelings* in app. Those that face deportation, title 1
schools, a demented man who sits in the seat that better men and heroes have given their own to better this world.
To Amerika and the annoying orange; Amerika has not been great since the Constitution began. Slavery. Jim Crowe laws as Amerika burned from Vietnam to Civil Rights. More African-Amerikaans are killed in violence than the rest of the world shakes our head. You can not do without your guns but to lose a child to...
SATIRE FOR THE TIME OF YEAR
this is nothing but a sarcastic poem of a situation. with that deep love and respect~ Rood
I am the evil all men fear! I am that shrew that shares the devil's ear!!! Quake little heartless bitches, never seen me like those of magnanimous witches, simple to set boundaries like ditches...
DO NOT PISS OFF A WICCAN!!!
1 Jaar and Remember
You remember the moments that helped to shape you, mold you, and give you guidance ten years later. That is the job of mum and papa; but we feel lost when their passed...the pijn will lessen but the images still vivid when you were little to hold their hand. Mum en Jayson were all I had. It's about a jaar and hate wells like a geyser for the drunk en myself. She deserved better than what this dochter gave her. I can only swear that what she wanted for mij in the end; it's true Mum... because of you.
Shades of the Past
As it is sun rises, sleep for those across a vast sea. I should know; I have been back and forth.
I can see them and sometimes they see me; sometimes they speak. It is more than reliving a memory; it can be the horror of a death or the feelings of giving birth. Most often they just don't know.
Moving along life just as normalised as can be; you run into the strangest of mysteries. How can a long dead love appear so clear in a photo on social media. What is worse you feel a tug at a rope that had been cut by Fates' bitches when the car hit the oak.
It is not magicks or Wicca; it feels a cruel joke. I know he moved on as I told him not to hold on. Neither of us knew o...
What is asking going to hurt? Silence on that end; the jukebox broken this end. What is just a simple expression?
For me words are what I weave into tapestries that many can see and perceive.
Knowing some how, some way there is a dopplganger and its ok.
My life was lived for a short while and you could not see what you and mij, had made together. Like so often with our story, the Black Angel claimed it's bounty.
Now that tree I gave her thee.
The time I spent in my life in your presence; innocent sublime.
I have never seen you here, so I know you went to where bliss was near.
Those words written as if uttered,
My chest constricts
But for so many a different reason.
I am as some one ...
Do I drown or drag myself to shore. Knowing and feeling the dregs of; I have been here before. Enthusiasm en hope ripped by a more powerful source.
Learned to not deal with several upheavals. Gave the pijn away and have been planning my future. Words are powerful things.
I let myself drown.
I do have a wish. Silly it would seem but I would hope for an artifact that would allow us to put back the last and wrecked things back before they had become ruined by our own ignorance or the very stupidest; not right now, I'll bellen in an hour. Allow perspective of "what has gone wrong”. Give us ways to cope within love and families too. Give us the tools to manage the management known to the opposite genders these management units; mostly they fail.
This amazing artifact can exist in us now. We have to push ourselves further and further than we have ever gone before; familie is the core of every culture; its beating heart is the health of humanity. Hope is not lost yet. Fam...
Queen Anne's Revenge
Crickets chirping and when they stop you know. Hot and beyond humid but this was home. Between here and the Old World they say; born into a royal court can only end a few ways. Thanks to God history says, I was miscarried. I can never forgive Jonathan nor Arthur.
"Adelide Boleyne!" A voice hisses in the dark.
"Oh you carried this blood and you run. Well my father was full. He begged to save my mother; but it will be Lizzy." I taunted my victim, grandfather.
"There is so much more in the Boleyn ways." The pathetic creature he had become; I curled my lip.
"Strength in familie always grandfather. Familie is power and you are denied yours! This is for Mummy and Geor...
There is part of my heart and part of my soul...
it has been sought and it has been found...
so very long it was gone as it had been stole
that numb is thawing as I can feel some bliss
the manner of past has been cold
for now there must be bold
to capture something of remiss...
given to me is happenstance
but also a second chance.
Privacy was not a concept that my parents thought we children definitely didn't deserve. We we're given journals with their intents to read and "understand"they said later. After I figured out my parents were reading my diary; there is that scene near the end in Mean Girls, where Regina George has copied the burn book. For me? That was my diary in seventh grade. I kept my journal/diary in my locker to keep it away from my parents. My locker was not the only one broken into but mine was the only one with juicy details of these locker owner. Needless to say; I made it through the year because we moved to Louisiana in the middle of high school career. That was difficult but nob...
I am so angry, I don't know where to start. We live in Western Europe yet because mij children are immigrants (more so my oudest). The abysmal reaction this parent receives is one of what your problem or the big deal.
The big deal here is the immigrants cannot screw up; which I agree with. There are a ton of witnesses back up his story of protecting a young Mongolian woman from her harrassing.
When is it ok to beat or abuse! When those are completely different from you. Let's beat and destroy those who choose to protect a who cannot react. The laws are strict for us who immigrate and follow the law. Beat down
I try to have the courage to not feel beat, but it is very difficult to handle this.
No more too much.
Do not trust too much, do not hold much and do not hope too much. Because too much; you can do the same way, every day too much.
Trust is for those whose time is given to frivolousness.
Hope is for those who have not the drive to see a reality happen. The most difficult is the courage to practice "what I preach".
If everyone were busy doing what needed doing for themselves, familie, and community than this acts of forever human association would not happen. Who I am? Just a person who talks too much.
16 Too Long
Years flew by and tears drew channels from my eyes. All to give and nothing gained; so far from the early days. Perfect I was not. I know what tragedy I have wrought. I reacted in reaction to deaths and suffering; pulling away and pretending was your way of comforting. So often times I attempted to be seen as me and not what life had made of the. Rejected and left alone; alone I found solace in silence like stone. Every once in awhile a spark of hope would perhaps draw me forth; in the end you crushed with force. Why they do ask did you spend sixteen years in a life of brittle glass? Myself I can only ponder, I gave it all; my soul it seems still wanders. Whilst there was life...
Found by the fire, glowing with heat. Lying on the ground, like a bit of defeat. You lifted me up, into your arms. Tentatively brushed my skin, kept me from harm. So it was warm, that your heart lent. I took a breath. I heard your heart, beat in your chest; every beat, the time stood still. Your gentle skin, my hands could feel. I smelled your scent, So clean and pure. It made me feel all than more. I felt so high, These soft, so very full, mauve colored and demure. Fingers laced in black of mane; hissing and sighs as lips never kissing. It had to be with soul and like sweet liquor and gold.
I am sorry that I wrote. I am sorry that in words I spoke. I am sorry that jou hurts justify passive-aggressive diverts. I spoke mij mind and I am sorry this made anything think. Personen wij are behind our scars; jou are not alone.
Voor mij jou see; enough pijn has been my way. I don't verstan this word FRIEND in Engels context. Vriend en vrienden mean real at the end.
HET SPIJT MIJ no more.
Taken By Surprise
I woke up one day to find you'd taken me by surprise; that you'd built a home in the base of my heart and your laugh was an echo filling all the corners of my head. I woke up one day to find that things made sense; that you were where goodness began. My sense you made and your laugh echoes to this day; oh how surprise can take us to a blind side. Where does one go to pray when the echoes are hollow and only phantoms anyway? What happened to my home that was built within my own? Cracked and bleeding; how to salvage the unending agony? I have come to find this space in my mind is a mass, that swallows happiness. Your faith, your smile, and everything for awhile; I'd awoke ...
How I wish I could feel
the touch of heat from
just a moment's steal
as skin touches skin
and passion runs amok.
I would love to enjoy
a bit of past time
of my lover's crush
and our point to
hush as our need
brings about a crush
and silencing flush.
Only now do I deal
with this lack of
a traditional appeal
but the feeling does
grow and in haste
do I know...my heart
is torn as is shorn
from its mental store.
Weeping for innocence lost
the trust and need that
was destroyed at what cost?
There was no winning
only the ripping of the cleaved
the souls who should have hold.
Now only wounds seeping
their painful creeping
reminders to betrayals reaping.
De poort naar geluk is het omarmen van de pijn die je hebt geleden in het leven en draaien in kracht en bemoediging dat je alles kunt doen in uw toekomst. Het leven in het verleden betekent huidige leven in het lijden. Kies ik mijn brood te zijn in het nu en gelukkiger rondom.
English translation :
The gateway to happiness is embracing the pain you have suffered in life and turning it into strength and encouragement that you can do everything in your future. Life in the past does present life in suffering. I choose to do my living in the now and happier all around.
WHAT IS ME
Who I am to who I meet? Impressions are made by this skin we face. Who am I really? Is it this meat I wear to shroud my soul? Does this meat show a glimpse of inner toll?
What makes mij, mij. Is this hunk of flesh my legacy? Is the use of my body to give in to a pleasure fill act. For mij, pijn has turned most of love showing into an act!
It is not who or my past; but what really matters and MAKES MIJ. It is skin and meat with symmetry or is it my intellect and intent.
Ergens tussen al onze lacht, lange gesprekken, domme weinig gevechten en al onze moppen. Ik wil in je armen, waar je houd me vast en laat me nooit gaan. Toen ik keek in je ogen Ik heb niet zie alleen jij, zag ik mijn vandaag, mijn morgen, en mijn toekomst voor de rest van mijn leven. Tot de dood we scheiden.
Somewhere between all our laughs, long talks, stupid little fights and all our jokes. I want your arms, where you hold me and never let me go. When I looked into your eyes I did not see you alone, I saw my today, my tomorrow, and my future for the rest of my life. Till death we separate.
Thy Hart is Beaten
My heart is beating. Echoes in the cold streets. Where nightmares and darkness begin to meet. Crying in the rain. because if I do, no one can hear the pain. It will never be the same. And that's what's killing me.
If I could go back in time and change a couple of things. I honestly believe; I would not be here dreaming, of days that innocence was lost and was replaced by this jaded and oh so angered. What untold joys it would be not to live and wallow in thine failures and miseries. The idea of trust; which is so precious you see, I cannot abide it for all I've seen is faith in others and even thyself left to shudder. This body would not be weak, broken, and sick with illnesses that come from genetics and the others; random chance that eventually deprived basics such as giving life but now a chance to want a single little one in a new way. Alas it seems that all my dreams; be they of a typic...