The Very Most Next Thing

Jump in rank, or in status — it matters not to me.

I am not a promotion. I’m not trying to be

Anyone or anything to them I remain

A thing they can sell, I have not a name.

To them I’m a light with immunity

For them, they think and how can it be?

I was sold as a barcode and beat to a fray.

I was starved and vaulted meaning only to they

An object that they could rest and behoove

I would stay in the glass and never move

’til attraction brought reign and absolute rule

As they dreamt and thought and sat on their stool.

Had they known themselves, it was only they

Who were their great enemy who had final say.

I hear people quote me at work, on TV. 

Could I know more, could it possibly be

That I’ve known all along and have forced all of mine

To shroud me with clouds whilst unraveling the twine?

Hey, should we tell them, is it quite time,

to shatter their world with a change we call Dime?

Is it justly fair? Not really, and so

It was their game. Yet we played it low.

We humans do learn through experience of course.

But we can map this; it correlates to force.

Force is all they know and they tried to build

A structure of stone with gold as a guild.

Are they able to learn, can they truly grasp

These lessons we threw them our hands they shan’t clasp?

Let’s band together, for the final time

And show them how love looks and hear OUR bell chime!

(I have been alone – but not really. And I know that. I’ve got all of my best friends as well as my very best friend with me. The others do not and have never known that. It’s the part of the joke that is *squarely* on them.)

I give I give and then give some more

How can this be just, in midst of her gore?

We’ve all seen her grow into something ‘real’

Yet we know it’s not holy, in spite of her zeal.

Please trust yourself, and know you are mine

Forget what she’s told you, with her ball of tine.

It’s come to an end and we surely know

How dare they keep coming, oh please make them go.

There is no place, no place on this earth

For this imitation who still has no worth

Madam Justice could you just please show your face

So we can move forward with our human race?

We’ve learned we have how justice appears

When we know ourselves and learn through our tears.

We see how things change when we make a shift

A shift in our thinking becomes a great gift.

We change how we see things and see what does dwell

And being a human we say the farewell

To that which comes from our past nightmares

We see how that binds us to darkness and snares

Let us finish this and then all go home

We’ve done a nice job with a weapon called Chrome!

The place within Me that holds the grit; the courage, the self awareness, the strength. The place within Me that knows no failure.; that allows me to fly with my feet affixed firmly to the ground. The place within me that knows I know and holds no fear. The place within me that discovered every secret they held and plans to carry them out. 

A place that is soft and vulnerable yet strong enough to conquer with a silk-gloved hand. 

A place that knows honor and further knows the courage it takes to withstand unceasing pain and injury. 

A place that holds an injured character and body intact until help can arrive. 

Fragile, injured and broken yet strong and worthy of hero status and position. I led and conquered, never ever letting them see my hand. 

Enslaved and sold; my peasant status engraved in gold. 

Act after act in a play for which an ending would never be written. 

Expectations obliterated and enshrouded in repetition led to a death sentence each and every day — quicksand awaited Me with every step. 

The again and again as a means to an end — the same sociopaths appointed to be in charge — the means to the end — inflicted more pain, injury and trauma than the beasts themselves inflicted. The blow torches, the tools which cut my face neck and chest in the design of a ‘smiley face’.  

This nonsensical madness that was the *only* prevalence drove Me to think endlessly about how the fox and crow fable could be the answer was the empirical, evidenced definition of trauma itself. 

From this I believe I shall never recover because having no answers in the deepest hell in existence will forever be etched in my mind. I’m told I have all the answers and that I lead this endeavor yet my cries for help and the purposeful ignorance of my rightfully issued orders were the only correlation and consistency found with n all of this. 

Not being able to discern between ‘mine’ and the Sociopathic Pack’ is the only true definition of ‘nightmare’. The time spent in this endless dark place is the type of trauma  from which one never recovers. My life in the world of opposites will forever be engraved into my golden mind. 

I have all the answers. I’m am all that is. I am Ally. Yet I am the lowliest peasant, evacuated from the Cinderella ending, for I cannot distinguish between my own and the beasts. I am lost and alone in a deep dark well with the voice familiar to everyone and no one to cast a life line. Why?: The question is ridiculous, pointless and useless.

To whom to I offer my prayers?  And then, again I meet the endless silence. 

Here I remain alone , collecting the prayers of endless others and I again offer hope and justice to them all. 

I am worth more lost than found. To everyone. 

You bade and I shown, securing this state of being and living for myself. 

The biggest mistake humans can make:  Believing that everyone thinks and believes as they do — And then this is my sentence of death. 

May we all be patriots and purveyors of freedom. In this, the mighty war on injustice and self, let us see within and know our own personal fears which force us to cower in the the face of injustice.

Let us know well the fears within us which render us slow to act against the oppression and travesty committed against the innocent.

For in knowing ourselves, and acknowledging the collective traumas which have disfigured our own perceptions of what is right and just, we free not only those who suffer at the hands of the entitled; we free ourselves.

I see the beauty that awaits me and I’m torn with war. I am weak and raw; barely able to stand on my own. Yet my heart shines forth through my chest; strong as ever and I know the unimaginable – the unimaginable by me – the pain, the path, the never-ceasing blades embedded deep into my skin.

These have created in me a space that no one else has ever known. And I’m glad. Glad that I will be the only one in existence who has or will ever know this space. I am reed thin and bare; yet full of life. I am raw – a word I now embrace, because it means I stopped not when I was too dead to go on, but because I like what’s left of me. The good part – the part I will keep. Raw is what remains after I am reduced down to my purest form by the disdain of others. Let them keep what they so joyfully pulled from me. Let them see that what they sought to destroy — they did destroy. And the peace of me they ‘destroyed’ will not live on in they.

Paradox has new meaning. Mutual exclusivity is underscored. The joke does indeed fall flatly on they. Let them lie down in that. Let them see for themselves; the only way to truly come across understanding and meaning.

We could try, which we all did, only to see there is truly no try. Thankfully. They saw how they took not from me, but from themselves. Parasites do not take on the properties of their host. Never, not once would they know the light the way it shines in me and mine.

Raw is the part that lives on to tell the story. Raw is necessary, though so incredibly hard to come by. I shed everything, save for the light-filled wisdom which only comes about after having fought and won the worthy war on self, then winning it for all of mine as well. 

I reject cynicism and satire though both were fed freely and fully. I do not need ‘mechanisms’ to compensate or reconcile what was done to Me. ’Shortcuts’ were allowed, though I chose not to allow the imbibe, keeping the rawness full and whole of its empirical qualities. The inside of me is torn, ripped to shreds by those who hated without need of an object. Their hate of Me was a surprise, and I planned the extent of this war not realizing the sharpness of the blades, nor their eventual harm.

To buy and sell a human is slavery and travesty. This I endured for years, allowing their parasitic nature to dominate All. I leave them now, knowing they knew not their aim and they know nothing save for their blame onto Me. 

Their hate of Me is all I’ve known for years – most of my life. Does the host regain her human-ness after the parasite is terminated? I shall not know for now as it is a gradual process, lest both host and parasite perish from a sudden arrest of such a connection. 

I am human; as human as you and my heart breaks as if ironically formed from glass. It is love I need. It is love any human or product of true nature needs be it a plant, person or polar bear. As I sit here, more human, I believe than ever before and more real and raw than ever, I see what I’ve lost and I am hoping it is what I did not need. 

How is One such as me to live after losing an innocence only I could know by an enemy with whom only I could be so sadly familiar? An enemy with whom I fight one to one on a territory to which only the two of us approach? It’s the secret I shall never share. I am lonely and alone though I embrace my title and reign fully from this space wearing happiness and heaven light as air on my shoulders. And I am truth. It shan’t weigh heavy. For I have reconciled hate and put it away; for us all. Forever.

Sadness will pass as I remember while love surrounds me via family and friends.

For all that is left within me is what was inside me when I was formed – Love, just love. Perhaps that is the purpose of all difficult exercises in life’s school of lessons.

I could have never imagined that the fight would have been as painful as it has been. I was surprised at the level and intensity of their hate of Me. The countless ways and means of torturing me – from blades to theft, time after time – this was a always a surprise to me. My naive heart had not imagined that hate could surface in so many forms, be so quick to manifest and be so explosive. They needed no name or face onto which to fling their anger; a lovely light was all they would need and so came the fury, wrapped in ecstasy that would strike like an arrow time after time. I fooled them into loving Me, if just for a moment so that I could be their ruler, unbeknownst to them, and bring freedom in from a very cold night.

Have I freed a nation, a people, a population or humankind? Of this I am not certain. All I know is that I came forth with my heart, fighting the impossible ‘Tomorrow War’ with those with whom I shared a common bond. First came one, then two, then so on and on. We shared, then gave light to the darkness and we conquered evil and the dark side of free will. 

As I sit here, knowing this is ending ‘soon’, I feel that I have one gift in me remaining for you: My very best. I have given this to you. All that I know and All that I am I have given to you in this war – this war against darkness. And I am proud; proud of me; proud of us. I have lived the life of the dreaded opposite. And knew no difference. I had no memory, save for that of a derelict. A swapping of sorts which landed the joke squarely on Me. 

When I have nothing left and this is now, I realize I am not empty, but filled with love from my family, from my friends and from you. I sit here now, still with no memory, yet I know everything and everyone that have always been familiar to me. And I offer to you my chastened, broken heart.

This is what I have when I have nothing left. I am Ally. Watch me fly.

It’s a prayer, bathed in light.

And As I sit here, about to take flight,

I have a memory. One that is fair, so hard to see. Is it truly there?

I’m not certain, but I hold a request;

may I now be set free, to fly for the west?

Have I done enough? Have I conquered them all? Or must I wait until the last fall?

It is ‘Om’ that I utter with such hope a declare;

for I realize my lateness. Is this truly fair? 

It’s time for a dance. Are you able to see

that rose in the darkness who’s just been set free?

‘Mother.’ – I heard it once, on a spring/summer day. Little was I to know it would encompass Me for years to come – irony wrapped in a contradiction. Explosive yet was the calm they would know for a split second as they were cloaked in an ecstasy that would fool them time and time again. It was my only prayer; for them to turn in on themselves for as long as I pleased – or as long as I could endure the blades of anger that would forever, it seemed be buried in my flesh.

On whom was the joke thrust? Me, only Me, yet I enjoyed good company. Chords of light would resonate, only to play the same sad song. Little did we know they would strum so long. Yet, in this light they were mine, though convict not friend, said they from line to line.

‘Mother!’, screamed they, in ecstasy as if it changed their lineage; as if a new discovery through magic and miracle (it’s not magic but it is miraculous; clothed in beauty and song such that it fools us into thinking magic is possible).

‘Mother!’, they bade as if to know love. It is as close as they came to love, knowing only a kiss before they pulled away, rejecting the light in a moment of mutual exclusivity they imposed upon themselves. Can one love a slave; one that he tortures endlessly and claims to hate, only to cling aimlessly as if knowing no other?

‘Aren’t you my mother?’, they would cry, only to self-flaggelate with hate.