New Gods Emerging (November 24, 2018)

November is

Almost over

Six days left.

People gearing up

For December holy days

Promising cheer and good will.

Trolling department stores

And internet sites

For the perfect gift.

Never mind

Next 6 months

They’re wage slaves

To credit card companies

And banks.

Paying for items

They can’t afford

Or need.

As if

Piety is measured

By monetary value

Of gifts given.

Moving one step closer

To eternal peace

Entitlement earned

By largesse spent.

Gifts abandoned

After novelty expires

Never touched

Again.

Having satisfied

Greed and lust

For another year.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: On October 31, 2018, I saw a local supermarket sell boxes of chocolates and chocolate novelty, normally reserved for Christmastime. It ticked me off that they haven’t even the children enjoy the one night of the year, which they be anyone or body, without ridicule. Wish there was a law, which states, when a store can start advertising for Christmas sales. Say, after November 27th or thereabouts.

Musings of A Rose Coloured Glasses Wearer (July 8, 2016)

Find myself

Asking this question

Too often

Lately.

Have we

As a species

Lost our sanity?

Given 

The horrific events

Of the past week

Globally.

In letting 

Our hatred

And ignorance

Guide our actions

Against each other.

Something

I know

All too well

From personal experience

As a trans-lesbian.

In living 

A lifetime

Of attacks.

On a physical

Emotional

And psychological 

level.

For being 

Different.

Will we

Ever grow up

And realize.

Those things

That make us

Different.

Are 

Our strengths

As a species.

Thus

Be celebrated

And encouraged

To flourish.

Regardless

Of personal feelings.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: As senseless acts of violence rocks, the Middle East and the United States, tears of sorrow are flowing, without end, down my face. Leaving me, to wonder, why bother, in my chronic fight, against depression and anxiety, as my sense of hopelessness, grows ever greater, on an hourly basis. As we kill each other, over ignorance and fear.

A Friday Afternoon (February 19, 2016)

www.braincoretherapy.com

Around me

The chaos of life

Bubbles forth

Like a babbling brook.

As I struggle

To stay connected

With myself.

Despite

My rising levels

Of anxiety

Reaching towards

A panic attack.

Leaving me

Feeling

Extremely vulnerable.

As people walk by

In the library.

In knowing

It's just my body

Extending

Its hyper-vigilance.

A by-product

Of an abuse past

I'm trying to

Overcome.

Fighting

This growing urge

To runaway

And hide

Inside my apartment.

To do so

Would be admitting

Once again

I have failed.

Refusing

To allow

Any tears of frustration

To grace my face.

As I beat back

The growing sense

Of being

A worthless failure.

Trying to control

My trembling hands

While

Typing this

Out.

In claiming

One small victory

At a steep price.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Have been diagnosed, as having living, with chronic depression, various anxiety disorders and PTSD, (I refuse to say, suffering, as I know, these conditions, will be, with me, for the rest of my life) as the result of a very abusive past, growing up, as a child, and later on, as an adult. As part of my healing process, I have taken Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT), at a local hospital, near my apartment. Never realizing, until afterwards, a lot of the stuff, I having doing, on my own, has been CBT techniques, to distract myself, in triggering situations, like the above poem. To analyze, what is causing this reaction, while, in the library.

The Jagged Wound (February 1, 2016)

www.williamtollefsonvalues.blogspot.ca

Don't understand

Why I'm being triggered

By these images

Right now.

When

I thought

These memories

Had been dealt

With.

In a safe

And constructive way.

And yet

Tears are streaming

As I find myself

Being transported back

To another place

And time.

Wanting to curl up

Into a foetal position

Hoping to disappear.

Even now

Two days later

Am still

Emotionally

Ripped wide open.

Wondering

How long

Will I need

For these emotional wounds

To scab over.

And for

The healing process

To complete itself

Once more.

This time

Completely.


Therisa © 2016




Author's note: On Saturday, January 30, 2016, while looking for images to use with another poem, about identity, I found myself, being triggered by these images. I know these images can't hurt me, but still, I had a very emotional response to them, leaving me, feeling like, a PTSD flashback had occurred. Even now, three days later, am still feeling the residue of that occurrence, as my soul, slowly recovers.