Just a Girl Lost 2

Just a girl lost~ Here I share bits & pieces of me, in poetry, prose, music & posts from writers who inspire me.


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Dog Days are Done by Florence and the Machine

#1.  This is a GREAT SONG!!!  It’s by Florence and the Machine.  I heard it while driving. 

That’s the only way I hear ‘new’ music nowadays

#2.  Weird, when I was a teenager,

I used to be the one who found stuff before anyone else, well,  a few elses.

It’s hard ‘growing up’.  Meaning, I can’t sit and listen to music all day.

It’s hard growing up, meaning,

I’m not really grown up, just in a different dimension.

Make sense?

THIS SONG kinda sums it up.

As I was listening to it I was thinking,

Damn them, for being so happy, not fair.

I wonder what it feels like?

And then I thought, what if I could make myself

and those around me happy?

I thought, what if I could decide to be happy?

and make this song come true?

What a dream, a beautiful, wonderful, perfect dream of HAPPY!!!

I hope you love it as much as I do.

@justagirllost

 

 

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The Blue Dream

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I promised I would write my dreams,

since I’m not inspired right now to write anything

about Love or Life or Living.

I have been dreaming lately and that is a rarity.

I mean that i am ‘remembering’ my dreams.

I know that we all dream, blah, blah, blah.

I just lately have had some memorable dreams

as in BRIGH COLORS

and STRANGE SITUATIONS.

In this dream, I’ll call it ‘The Blue Dream’, I am in a HUGE, MASSIVE, meandering house.

This huge house is apparently being ‘given’ to me and my children.

(my children’s ages vary and morph as the dream progresses)

In the process of moving in, the former tenants have left a LOT OF STUFF, weird stuff and the former tenants (picture The Brady Bunch times 10) the Brady Bunch are ‘helping’ me clean-up.

As they help me clean up they are also finding things they had forgotten and are happily taking them home.

This house is HUGE and one room has a red puppet theater and a white baby bed and lots of baby toys just lying around.

It’s night and the room is bluish in hue with lights dancing off the walls.

There are people pulling wallpaper off, sawing, hammering, nailing, taking paneling off, putting things in bags.

We move on into the kitchen.  The kitchen is a jumble of carpentry, hardware, sawdust, no table or anything, just a weird metallic, greenish, harsh, undone, uninviting mess.

There’s white stuff everywhere.

Like, that white stuff on walls and ceilings, crumbly and powdery white.

There’s drawers lying on the floor filled with CRAP.

You know, that junk drawer you just throw little pieces of crap into.  There are drawers scattered and tossed and filled with utensils and forks, knives, spoons, corn-cob holders, different colored rubber bands, tacks, tacks, tacks, little nails and all the little things you need to stick things to the wall.  BORING.

I march/slither/slide upstairs, downstairs, all around, seeing rooms with bunk beds, seeing into bathrooms with clothes hanging everywhere and toothbrushes, toothpaste, pictures, children’s paintings, all sorts of things just everywhere.  Stuff left behind, not worthy of keeping, but the Brady’s were realizing that there was some pretty cool stuff they’d left behind and so as I’m seeing into these rooms, I’m seeing the Brady’s picking up, sorting thru, laughing about, holding onto all this stuff they had forgotten about.  They’re finding treasure as I’m tearing down to move in and it’s a chaotic mess.  NOISE and MESS and NOISE and ripping and tearing and running thru the house.

I turn and step into an elevator.  It’s a brown elevator.  Wood with scratches in it.  I step in hesitantly, I know I’m going down, I know I have to get in, but also I decide in this dream that I am NOT going to be stuck in this elevator.  (I am SO CLAUSTROPHOBIC. As a child I wasn’t in the least, but as an adult, I am)

Suddenly, I come to a STOP.  I’m at a dead end.  No where to go forward. I step out of the elevator and am a bit relived because my lucid dreaming worked!

A cul-de-sac in the hallway.  I’m standing in a hallway.  I look to my right and I see sitting on a wooden crate a blond girl, about 5 or 6, wearing yellow shorts and top.  She has pigtails and is just sitting quietly, solemnly on the crate in the cul-de-sac staring at me. Not moving, just staring at me.

I need the bathroom.

I turn suddenly and look straight ahead.  I’m looking in a mirror.  I’m in a bathroom.

I’m standing in a narrow, white enamel on the wall, white sink, light bulb hanging down with a pull string, bathroom.

I look in the mirror and I’m COMPLETELY BLUE.  I’m covered in blue.  Painted blue.  A cobalt blue.  My hair is a mess, all frizzy and sticking out and BLUE.  My skin is blue.  My gown is blue.  My feet are blue!  I look at the girl and feel confusion, I know I have to keep going.  I look down the hallway.

I hear people laughing and I know there is a party going on.

I turn and find some stairs.

I go down these dingy, dark stairs.  The whole house is falling apart/being redone.  It’s got a 70’s vibe. The party room.  Paneling, blue and green furniture, not too well lit.  It’s dim, like a dying sun yellow.

It’s a party and everyone is happy and laughing and talking, but the colors and smell and feeling all say dank, dark, slime, oppressive.

I step into the room and see everyone dressed in groovy polyester pantsuits and dresses, chunky shoes and puffy hair.  I see our neighbor from across the street.  Miss Bea.

She and her husband, Mr. Andy, were my second parents.  They had 4 kids, the youngest girl was a year younger than me and my best friend, my sister almost.  We spent everyday together. Our mom’s would drink coffee and talk and we would play.  We practically lived together. 

Miss Bea.

She looks beautiful.

She’s smiling and laughing, wearing a lovely dress and she’s young.

I’m surprised to see her there because she’s dead.

She tells me that she’s with her daughter.

Her first pregnancy was a miscarriage, they named her Susan, and I’d always felt a sadness from her when she thought about Susan.  I loved Miss Bea.  She was very quiet, tiny.  Didn’t drive a car.  Her husband drove her everywhere. 

Miss Bea, my sweet, mysterious, very kind, never raised her voice, LOVED romance novels, smoked like a chimney, my mom’s best friend, my second mom was telling me she was happy and with her daughter. 

I was uncomfortable the whole time, of course, I’m in disarray.  My hair is a mess and I’m covered in blue! I turned to look around …

I woke up.

That’s it.

That’s my Blue Dream.

 

*image, Death and the Mirror, James Christensen

@justagirllost2

 

 

 


2 Comments

When a Lifetime of Reality isn’t Real, then what…

I was perusing my drafts tonight, looking for some snarky poetry for a friend, and I came across this. 

I know I wrote this.  The strange thing is that I don’t remember writing it.  I usually remember everything I write because I only write when my emotions are all emotional.  I’m either up, up, up or low, low, low.  I’m not an inbetween writer.  I wrote the title, When a Lifetime of Reality isn’t Real, then what… 

So, as I’m reading this, I’m thinking, “What was I going thru?  dealing with?”  It must have been something epic because like I said, I only write when compelled to do so, as in COMPELLED.  hmmmmm… I’m seriously curious.  I don’t believe in split personalities, yet it feels like someone else wrote this. curiouser and curiouser

Lately, I haven’t felt much like writing.  I’ve been dreaming a lot though.  A LOT. 

Maybe I should just write my dreams when I’m uninspired.  Huh, LIGHT BULB MOMENT!!!  lol   

I will be doing that. I’ll start writing my dreams on here.  Starting tomorrow!

Until then, I’ll leave you with my mysterious missive from last March.

Peace and Love to you all, even the haters (as our Marvelous President Donald Trump likes to say)  😉

Niki

 

 

 

what am I supposed to feel?

Numb  Stunned  Shocked  Disbelieving

Disillusioned   Duped  Distraught

Anger  Rage in Dreams Betrayed  Pain holds sway, a dirge to play, fast fading, Faith torn stripped tattered sways fast against Mind, Flesh & Bone.   Pain, like a Hawk, Claws Sink Deep Beneath Bone & Flesh, Spellbound Screaming Mind Blown Feeling Bits & Pieces Flowing Fleeing Gently Bleeding every Poisonous Drop of Pain.

No more crying in the rain.  No more Fantasy Falling to the Pain

Washed Up Brain Dead  Soul  Fucked  Back Run

Unfind

Rewind  Ahead my Steps No Turning Back  Time’s  Destined Path to Find  Life  

Unbound Unblind to Truth  this Life Unblind I find  Heart  I See  I Know

I Breathe  I  Soar  Beyond the Veil   I See Black Sky I Know It’s Name

UnBlue Pilled   Eyes  Wide  Open   Black Pitch  Death Trap  Matrix

 

Hopeless   Betrayed  Played

Lost

Sickened  Saddened  Broken  Ashamed

Hollow Hurt

Afraid  Exposed  Alarmed  Haunted

Wide Awake  Wired  Electric  Chaotic  Alive

Murderous  Livid  Repulsed  Revulsion Burning  Hate

White Hot  Hate

….

I’m Blown away by the the ease with which we hop, skipped & goose stepped into a red, white, and blue Looking Glass of Hell on Earth.

I’m more like ‘a-ha’ , ok, this must be ‘IT’

‘IT’ is finally here, for me at least.  ‘IT’ has always been waiting for me to ‘See’

I do now, I finally see…

I felt ‘IT’ about 16 years ago?   It’s hard to remember exactly.

I just know I felt it one day.

Like a quiet sonic boom, deep in me.

I felt like everything was real, but temporary.

Like a way station, forever fated and planned, an in between purgatory of sorts.

That’s how it felt, a purgatory, not deprived of anything, just my pride and being able to call anything my own.

It was grey, miserable, yet I had my family, my children, all that mattered, except for my own identity or home.

The second time I felt it was about 13 years ago.  Chloe was a new baby.

I was standing in the middle of the kids and my room.  Just standing there in a funk.  Single mom, living at home, sharing a room and way, way off the mark of where I thought my life, our lives, would and should be.   Feeling angry, mad, disgusted, embarrassed, ashamed, guilty.  Like a great, big L O S E R.  A disappointment to myself, dependent on my family, resentful at the shame time, bratty.  Just a mess of poor me and A LOT of growing up to do.

I felt it, this feeling like I was in a waiting room.

I’ve always had a nagging, uneasy voice, a whisper deep within me, within my soul

It sounds crazy, but it’s been there for so long.  Telling me to wait, just wait.

God, sounds bizarre reading it, but I swear, the voice was there.

I ‘heard’ it telling me something was coming, in the far, far distant future,

but IT was coming and life would never be the same as anyone knew it.  I FELT it, it never went away.

I let it go.

I don’t obsess over things I can’t change.

I didn’t feel anything but a complete certainty, a truth inside me, a calm

and I just said, “Ok.” and moved on with my days.

Have you ever had that happen?

I don’t know what they would call it.  

I know many people believe in psychic abilities, mediums, esp, etc.   I don’t.

I’m Catholic and I was raised to never mess with any kinds of occult things.

 

I don’t even read my horoscope.

 

@justagirllost2

*photo mine

 


4 Comments

Be Ashamed of Being Ashamed of being an American 🇺🇸

The only thing that I am ashamed of are Americans who say they are ashamed of America, so that they can be ‘PC’ or fit in with the current fads of society.

Why succumb to the herd mentality?

How about you use your brain for good reasons, with reason and to reason?

How about you try that for once?

Brave men and woman DIED for YOU so that you can call yourself an American.

Never be ashamed of your country or what it stands for.

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instead…

Be ashamed

of those who trample on the Constitution

Be ashamed

of those who denigrate the great men & women who fought and fight for your freedoms & rights.

Be ashamed

that through your own ignorance & apathy you have allowed the corrupt, the evil, the despotic, the immoral to turn this country into a cesspool of inhumanity

Be ashamed

that you are so busy living your ‘perfect’ little lives

that you are blind to the Truth staring you in the eyes

Be ashamed

that you let your children be indoctrinated with Lies

that you call Free Speech, Hate Speech and Free Thought, Intolerance

Yes,

be ashamed of being ashamed

of being an American.

Shame on you…

~

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@justagirllost2


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In These Grey Days

A re post, but still very relevant. 

A family matter, an upheaval, a disruption, a tyranny

that’s been ongoing 2 years now

and

very soon the clouds will disappear, very, very soon.

I hope and pray all comes to the good and that finally

the weight will be lifted off of my and my family’s shoulders

and we’ll once again be able to breathe.

Niki

image (4)

In these grey days filled with tears and sadness

Fear, now my master

taunting me as I am kissed by Judas

Handed over to my accuser

Betrayer of her own, of ALL preyed upon

ruthless her kindness, relentless her cruelty

Shuffling papers = attack mode- ON

Going down her Hit List of Total Bullshit

all HIS LIES and her side show

Eye-rollin’ sarcasm when she gets called out as a Liar.

Rude and unprofessional with ZERO class

or decorum.

She sits there & LIES & DISTORTS

& MANIPULATES the TRUTH.

It’s beyond hypocrisy.  It is beyond injustice.

It is EVIL, pure & simple

and, the mask of being ‘Civilized’

is grafted down to her bone.  There is nothing

‘real’ left within her to be shown

Not an ounce of empathy, compassion or

humanity.

I feel like Daniel thrown to the Lions…

I sit there alone.  

Completely, utterly alone.

Watching her moods swing from snarky law bitch

to a soft-spoken,  jovial, chubby Aunt Bee

with really bad hair.

She has her shtick down pat.

Sharing  little stories and anecdotes

of bad guys ALWAYS getting caught

trying to beat the drug test.

Remember?

Remember that one woman…STAB …

she tested negative with the pee test, but

that hair test  was off the charts positive

she had SO much crack …

STICK… in her system!!!

(here it comes)… STABSTABSTAB

“See? don’t be a stupid crack whore

you clueless peasant”, her soulless eyes

tell you.

and

All I feel is sad.  So sad…

This wasn’t just a crack whore,

another notch on your scratching post!

This was a HUMAN BEING, a woman

who wasn’t born a criminal.

This is a daughter, a mother

Long ago her innocence lost, and now

her child’s is being lost…

broken home, broken heart, broken lives

So much suffering, generations

affected and it’s all laughed away

’cause

“People are stupid, useless, ignorant anyway.”

She loves to stick those pins

I feel so cold and sick, as if I’m going to 

crawl out of my skin.

I get it now.  Most of it.  Need more time

to process.  I’m far from ok.  I’m in a zone

of stress .  I need to get my composure back

I need to act oblivious.  I’m numb.

Frozen in this strange dread and confusion 

My thoughts, flatlined… dead.

Is this what hell feels like?

Her demented giggle never quite reaching

her squinty little eyes,

she’s watching me across the table.

“Eyes are the windows of the soul.”,

keeps running through my head.

Curiosity gets the best of me

I look straight up at her, not past her.

I SEE her.

I see a sad excuse for a human being.

I feel surprised, shocked actually,

at this slovenly mess across from me.

“How in the hell can that woman NOT have

a zillion issues? How OLD is she? She can’t be

that much older than me, 10-15 years? She looks

like a bag lady who just rolled out of bed.

Good Lord. Hasn’t she heard of Maybelline?

I bet she has about 5 cats already ’cause

they don’t know ‘Heil’ from ‘Here, kitty kitty'”

I  SEE her.

A bitter, hate-filled, unkempt, insecure,

vicious woman who is out to annihilate me.

She HATES women. She HATES me.

She has found the PERFECT client in HIM.

She’s a paid abuser.

Hired by the man who abused & is still abusing me.

She is beneath contempt.

I feel disdain, rage, & offense beyond belief.  

Seeing into eyes of a woman

who looks old

tired

Two dirty, cracked windows to

a soul like a rat grey, listless & fat

and a heart like a shriveled husk

dead, cold & black

I SEE her.

A desolate wad of dark energy

Nothing resembling happiness exudes from her.

She is a slave to pride & the intellect of man.

She is dead in spirit,

nothing but an animal, flesh & bone.

She is one of THEM

They are the Undead among us

Beady eyes always calculating

Greedy maws always salivating

Monsters created by shallow minds

The hunt is all they crave

To rise the ranks & win a worthless game

against the other locusts who feed

on the misery of society.

Power, Lust, Envy and Hate

Living for esteem from those they despise

To be worshiped & feared

To corrupt all that is good is their delight

To destroy Love, & make wrong right

Slimy things

Born again in primordial swamps

of corruption and poison

they breed the ancient disease

of fallen Eden

Desperate to be ‘seen’

Ego fuels their vapid lives

Slaves to base passions

the animals speak as civilizations die

They are the worst of humanity

I cannot bear to breathe the same air they breathe

I feel dirty, stained

I can’t wash off the foul stench

of Putrid decay they leave in their wake

I’m contaminated by filth

Drowning in a sea of hate

Caught in a trap

well-laid for years

by Him

Me, gullible, and naive

in my ignorance deceived

Now I see a darkness I’ve never known

Ugliness I thought I was privy to

Books I read, scars received, nothing prepared

me for these assaults on my sanity

Anger unreal, hate hidden, nothing revealed

until the fangs sink in, withdraw, smile, rip again

as if I’m just some plaything

a rag doll eviscerated invisibly

a puppet hanging by bloody strings of flesh

I am soul shocked

I am mind raped

stripped

flayed alive by demons

wearing suits of skin

Strangers paid to hate, not another

human, I am nothing but a

sad specimen below their pay grade

yet,

I refuse to die

My blessing and curse my belief in the Afterlife

so, I stay

In these so often colorless days & nights

filled with prayers and pleas & begging

to a celestial Being I now struggle to believe in

Nothing sates me

Nothing takes me away from

nothing but pain & panic

I am crushed on all sides

I am only living for one thing

My Children’s Lives and Sanity

the rest of me is in limbo

Lost in a fog of protecting those I love

Sleep sucks me into tormented dreams

I fight and claw myself awake

Slipping away is my faith,

yet

I hang on,

for some strange reason

without desire or contemplation,

I hang on

I feel a longing for a distant song

I reach across the abyss and grasp

I find you, I feel you

image (6)VSunCentury

 

You vibrate through me

your existence blankets me

your thoughts enfold me

in the warmth of knowing

I am never alone

You are the flame always burning

Calling out to me as my own draws

new life from you

My horizon, my sun

you always

no matter how foul my mood

your words surround, hold

comfort, enfold

Your soul shines

as I wander in mists of purgatory

Lost until I feel you again

You are a guiding star, always near

though I fall and falter

though I run in fear

Your light burns midnight alive

I smile in the storm

I smile past the pain,

if only for a little while,

I smile

Your words remind me

there is hope and beauty

there is love and magic

there is joy surrounding me

in every seeming tragedy

that I am blessed beyond belief

that I have strength from He who created me

that I have souls who depend upon and need me

that I am loved unconditionally

 

Your words spin webs of tranquility

as they engage my heart to beat again

Your inner strength unbinds me

and reminds me, ‘This too shall pass’

 

I see you, I see into your heart

It’s a mystery, yet I know you

feel it too

I see your faith in me

I see that I need to rise to

truth and nobility existing

within and around me

I see myself

in a mirror untainted

I see myself in you

You see me through eyes of beauty

You accept me with impunity

I smile

I whisper your name

in thanks I praise your existence

in this world, in my world

 

I pray you feel my kisses I send

upon gentle winds, across infinity

my lips curved in a soft smile

in wordless joy for your gift to me

Your soul

your poetry

washes me new

I feel clean

I feel free

I feel redeemed

on these grey days touched by you

 

~

 *And though the darkness has deepened, the Light was and is unchanging and I refuse to let myself become consumed by evil souls.  God IS my salvation and He WILL protect my family.  My children’s well-being, happiness and safety are my priority.

I still find moments to breathe.  I still find moments to reflect and see the good God ALWAYS brings out of seemingly insurmountable obstacles and betrayals. 

Thank you all for reading me, truly and thank you for your posts

I always gain insight, inspiration and beauty from all I read and follow in this blogging community. 

Peace xo

©justagirllost2

*photos mine

 


18 Comments

I am a poet

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They say

that all poets

at some point in time

possess and express

in overabundance

one or two or three or four

of the traits listed below:

Moodiness

Instability

Insanity

Eccentricty

and are very

Selfish

Idealistic

Intense

Impulsive

Cynical

Morose

Emotional

and

LoveWithEveryFiberOfTheirBeingNoMatterTheConsequenceComeHellOrHighWater

and

if it’s true

you have these traits

and all poets have these traits

you might be a poet

Depending upon

the interpretation,

it’s not a bad thing

and

I might be a poet, too

though

I live in the same world as you

Poetry is my favorite addiction/meditation/recreation/Re-Creation

I adore exploring every beautiful place

in a poet’s universe

I am a poet,

but only in spirit

I’m not like you

You are one of the chosen few

Whose words speak to my heart’s most hidden parts

I cannot pen my adoration to the ones I adore

as elegantly as you do

So, I carry you with me

I invite you into my most secret place

beneath an ancient oak

whose massive branches hang like arms

forming a cradle covered by a canopy of leaves

It’s my secret room I want to share with you

I gently lay you down on a bed of of grass

next to me as I sit in the sacred silence

I open your pages

I read your poems

Your magic is who you are

You paint in colors

that never existed before

Yes, you are a poet

You often lie between the pages

of Sylvia Plath

and Rossetti

or Robert Frost,

as Bukowski

flutters in the wind,

waiting impatiently

for me to finish

I read your last word

I let you slip away into the pages of places

I can only see in the dreams you write for me

I wait to once again taste your poetry

for I am a poet too, in spirit

and

I’m in love

with every poet and poem

whose kindred words

have touched my shore

~

©justagirllost2


8 Comments

CHRISTY

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~

The past is always present ~ Immortality in ink

bleeds from the heart of Love

beyond the reach of time in ebbings and flowings

sweptaway keptaway sinking thinking

what if this is all there is
what if there is so much more?

the present

my words always true untainted by reason

as constant as the tides heavenly sun rising high

always true ~ as constant as the tides

no rhyme or reason ~ no longer my own

owned by the one who holds my heart

my every thought eternally bound to only you

Dance with the Angels, my beautiful Christy

You were an angel over all of us

You swept us ‘neath your wings

dusklightmemory

Always with love we’ll remember you,

Always your love will pull us thru

you’re forever in our hearts

and forever in our dreams

~

I miss you and I love you, my sweet Christy ❤

I pray that you are resting gently at peace

RIP ~ 05/13/2017  ~ Christina Gigliotti

~

There’s

so much i wanna say

about how she influenced and affected me and others

ripples on an ocean

she was like a star falling into a sea

touching so many

in ways we didn’t know we needed,

but

this is all I have for now…

prayers for her and her family

prayers for us all

amen

~

©justagirllost2