The Ugliest War of You 

Absolutely amazing. This is exceptional.

 

I live in a place where people say “faggot”  as causal as one would say, “hello.” A passing respectful nod from a stranger  is common, although just under his brea…

Source: The Ugliest War of You 

You Don’t Know Me – Dianne Hoffmeyer

 

 

You think you know me?

You don’t.

You think I’m the same woman from a few years back?

Not even close.

You think I’m still quiet, subservient, timid and fragile?

Afraid Not.

You think I’m just going to let you do and say what you want to me?

Think again…

 

I can see through your lies and bullshit.

I was taught by the very best.

I know your game of manipulation, you’re a player, but now I am a coach.

I know how to be strong, because that’s all I’ve ever been since I put myself back together- alone.

I am neither quiet, nor am I timid.

 

I say it like it is, I am proud of who I am,

I do not like to fight, but I am not afraid to bleed.

 

I use my voice to rise above the lies and rumors and gossip that is said about me.

 

No, I know exactly who I am.

 

I am not scared to be myself, I am not scared to be alone, I am not scared for my future even though I don’t know what’s in store for me.

 

I stitched my pain, my tears, my blood,

my anger, my sadness and my loneliness together with such a durable string, that no matter how hard I am tugged on,

pulled on, stretched, dropped,

ignored, abandoned, and no longer loved

so well, that I have MADE the woman you see today.

 

I am everything you hate, I am all kinds of hurt, I draw strength from solitude, my ideas are formed from isolation. I am loved by myself, for myself, with no motives, with no deceptions, with no lies.

 

So before you think you know me,

Think again.

© Dianne Hoffmeyer 2016

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Dianne is an amazing woman; to call her “strong” or “brave” doesn’t cover the half of it. Dianne is a fighter. Blessed with nine beautiful children, she has lived through every mother’s worst nightmare, the death of her child, and she has done it twice.

As a survivor of domestic violence, Dianne found the courage to put her ex husband behind bars, after he shot and stabbed her.

Clean for seven years, Dianne is a recovering addict who in her words, “kept breaking out of handcuffs” until she realized it was time to stop.

Diagnosed with bipolar disorder, anxiety, and PTSD, Dianne is also in advanced stages congestive heart failure. To say she is brave and strong doesn’t do her justice.

Dianne found happiness with her soul mate and was recently married. Her kids are her life, and every decision she makes is made in hope that it is the right one and guides them down the right path in their lives.

The life of love she tries to live each day is a legacy she hopes her kids will live, learn, and never forget.

Closed Doors & Open Hearts – Jason King

Jason's Truth2

 

People come into and out of our lives at exactly the right moment…..

 

This saying used to make my skin crawl and want to chew steel….no they don’t….I would howl….it’s all about choice I would say….now….I’m not sure I believe that….don’t get me wrong I think effort is of the upmost importance….as well as choosing your person everyday….but sometimes you can choose them….but they aren’t meant to keep you nor you them….so you staying is only going to upset the balance of your world.

 

People come into and out of our lives at exactly the right moment.

 

I often give my advice on things when asked….sometimes when not….it can be really great advice too….other times I question if I’m the best choice to do this….I am a stubborn man sometimes and won’t heed the same advice I give….recently I took many people on my journey into a new relationship….

 

I am going to share my truth of it from my perspective….we started out as friends….became very good friends….we run in the same circle so we knew many of the same people….they knew us….somewhere along the way we thought oh okay….you know this could be a thing….I mean we enjoy each other’s company….back to not taking my own advice….

 

It wasn’t lightning….it was a wonderful little fire….and it was comfortable….so we ran with it….why not….I’m one of the most logically impulsive people you’ll ever meet….we got to do the things we’d been denied in the past….share with the world!….talk about it….come one come all to the show!…it was fun….it also became this wild horse that took off with us on top because we didn’t really know how to ride and basically just had to hang on….it wasn’t ever going to be though….her heart was with someone else….mine was still waiting for the one to cradle it gently and fuck it stupid….

 

We liked the idea….again….not taking my own advice….not listening to our gut….we tried because it seemed like it should work….that doesn’t mean it will….or should….I will forever be grateful she had the courage to say hey….this just isn’t it….for all my bravado and courage I think it would’ve taken me longer….and I’m stubborn….she expected a backlash that never really came….neither of us were hurt really….just disappointed….however so many revaluations came from it….

 

We started listening to our gut….our intuition….we learned more about ourselves….and what it is we truly want….it’s not to share with the world….it’s not for the status updates or pictures together on social media….all those things could fall away….then what do you have….burn it all to the fucking ground….it’s not real….it showed me more about who I am and the things I desire in a relationship….and they involve me and one person holding each other at night….I even wrote about it….

 

My heart isn’t nearly as reckless as it seems….I’m not going from one thing to the next or constantly searching….I’m not….my eyes are always open….they just aren’t always looking in the right place….I am just willing to jump off a cliff to see what it feels like….but my gut always knows….this isn’t the time you fly either….but I must try….I hate what ifs.

 

People come into and out of our lives at exactly the right moment.

 

So tonight we are saying goodbye to each other….I know many won’t get this….but it’s part of our language and makes sense to us….she is in love with someone else….and I won’t ever do anything to threaten that….we are always two friends that should’ve stayed that way….but at least no what ifs….so we will say goodbye and part ways as friends….because she wants me to be clean too….because I like someone….she would never threaten that….our guts tell us it’s the right thing….

 

I don’t fall in like easy….despite how it looks….I’m an openly guarded book….but I do like someone….I owe it to myself to see what’s there….my eyes were open….I saw them….I just wasn’t looking hard enough….I’m a stubborn man sometimes….

 

I saw her riding the bumper cars….I just moved a little slow getting to the ferris wheel….now I’m listening to my gut….my intuition knows….follow your path….see where it’s taking you….so tonight I’ll tell my friend goodbye….she has to go see about a boy….and I have a ferris wheel to go climb.

 

People come into and out of our lives at exactly the right moment.

© Jason King 2016

 

Jason King

 

Jason King is a storyteller, seeker of passion, hopeless romantic, cynic, and possibly completely mad. You can find more of his exquisite writing at Jason King.

Follow Jason’s journey here on The Lithium Chronicles at The Poets

Penned Lies into Hope – Charlene Trolinder

The other day I published a beautiful piece by S.L. Heaton. The post is called Me And My Dirty Word and I would encourage you, to read it now, because this next piece was written by someone who was so touched by S.L.’s piece, that she wrote a response on it here.

I hope you enjoy.

 

Penned Lies Into Hope

 

I was browsing through my Facebook news feed one afternoon and there was a piece written by a beautiful soul that grabs my attention. It was her dirty little word: hope. I thought how could such a word be dirty? As I read each heart wrenching line this realization began to creep into my mind. I get this. I know exactly how she feels. I realized what I tried to paint as so beautiful was actually a dirty little fucking word.

I have been through hell and stood by people that I loved with every shred of my soul. Only for them to turn around and crucify me with the love I gave. I held on to this idea that did more damage to me than the actual trauma, I held on to hope. It became almost disease like that I held tight to this dirty filthy idea that one day it would actually work in my favor.

I suffered through abuse and heartbreak, holding to the maybe or it could. I was shown that I wasn’t worth the effort or time to be loved, yet I swallowed the, ‘it will get better.’

The day I ran the blade across my skin was the day I realized how filthy that little word really was. I learned love was brutal and that hope did fail us. I took all the brutality and damage and twisted it to believe there was still some hope. I finally broke and that is when I found it.

I pulled myself up and took that shattered little lie we love so much, hope, and I penned it into my legacy. I no longer hope for what was. I no longer think it will get better. I don’t hold on to the maybe as my security blanket. Today I scream my pain to the world in words. I write my hope in each word another will read and believe. My dirty little word will no longer haunt me. It will be my middle finger to those who set out to destroy me, as I set fire to the cross you hung me from for your enjoyment.

 

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Charlene Trolinder aka Lorna Evol is a small town kid born and raised in Dumas, TX. She fought all her childhood to survive, born with a rare chromosomal disease. She attended West Texas A&M, where she obtained a Bachelor’s in Psychology. It was later in life that she realized she struggled with severe depression and anxiety. Each day is a battle, but she loves the simple things. She is an avid reader and animal lover. She draws her inspiration from her struggles, and she tries to give hope to others through her words.

Follow Lorna’s beautiful words on Evocative Eloquence.

 

Crazy, Cancer & Chuckles

Last month Stephanie Bennett-Henry and I wrote something together that touches on Stigma. I was reluctant to post it for (get this) fear of offending people. How ridiculous is that? Pretty ridiculous considering the disgusting comments and jokes that people are making today, in regard to Sinead O’Connor.

I swear to God, some of you need to pass a test before using the Internet.

It’s May, which means it’s Mental Health Awareness month, and I tell you world, you fucking need it.

How funny would it be if I laughed as your daughter lay dying from cancer? What about your mother as she pukes up any strength she has left after dialysis? Maybe we could make a video that pokes fun at everyone who struggles to breathe in the middle of an asthma attack, bet we’d have a viral sensation on our hands there.

Your ignorance is showing, cover that shit up.

Stigma.

 

S&N illness

Abandoned in Wonderland – Charlene Trolinder

I wasn’t born into normality. My first breath I ever took on this earth came with struggle and strife. I’ve only known the painful roads of life. I guess that’s what contributed to the coldness of my beating heart most of my life. I wasn’t a daydreamer, a wish upon a star type, because I knew just how cruel life could be.

 

Then one day I met someone I saw in a different light. She touched a void in my life, a mother. I began to believe in fairytales. The Emerald city seemed so real and and the wizard was granting my wish. I almost couldn’t believe it after so long of emptiness and hurt, I had fell down the rabbit hole and found my wonderland, and my white queen was someone I could love and call mom. I should have known better. I should have known every star wished upon dies out. Every daydream fades away. Some fairytales don’t have happy endings.

 

As I believed and trusted in her she was out seeking her knight in shining armor. He turned out to be my worse nightmare. I became a passing thought. I was simply pushed aside. Her knight in shining armor became the slayer of my self-worth and dignity. He picked each word with the intent of using them to shatter my soul. Each volley of cruelty he spoke to me scarred my heart more and more. Love had become my death trap. I survived because you see since my first breath of life I have known nothing but to fight and survive.

 

Today I don’t sit here writing this hoping to wish upon a star or dream a dream a little sweeter, I sit here bleeding these words to grow and heal. Today I hope for the heart to know I can be loved, the brains to recognize I am worthy, and the courage to understand that one day the world will embrace me for who I am, the little fighter that forged an undying soul and a big loving heart.

 

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Charlene Trolinder aka Lorna Evol is a small town kid born and raised in Dumas, TX. She fought all her childhood to survive, born with a rare chromosomal disease. She attended West Texas A&M, where she obtained a Bachelor’s in Psychology. It was later in life that she realized she struggled with severe depression and anxiety. Each day is a battle, but she loves the simple things. She is an avid reader and animal lover. She draws her inspiration from her struggles, and she tries to give hope to others through her words.

Follow Lorna’s beautiful words on Evocative Eloquence.

This Shots For You – Jason King

Jason's Truth2

 

I’m listening to blues for the westside….Ronnie earl and the broadcasters….I have a love for grimy blues….it fits my mood today….I write about love often….today however is one of those days I’m asking why the fuck I do that….because I can easily tell you about loss much easier…..and everything love isn’t supposed to be….

 

See I heard something today….that for some reason left a bad taste in my mouth….a bitter one….I found out someone I’m honestly not even bothering to mention because they’ve lost that right….was away with the new person they’re with….I had one of those what the actual fuck moments….because we never did that….even after many suggestions from me….as it turns out many of the things I seemed to have too beg for ( never do this, if you are, stop) during that time are now done freely and with a smile….I finally realized….they did not love me like they claimed….I know people will say well they loved you as best they could and so on….I’m going to have to disagree….here’s why….

 

They were capable of the things I was seeking….like the ones for you were perfectly able to do them….but….they didn’t….they didn’t see our worth….and certainly didn’t show that they did….in any relationship there will be times and things you’re not crazy about….maybe you aren’t thrilled about some restaurant they like….or movie….but you know it makes them happy….and that’s important to you….compromise….just make sure you’re not the only one doing that….

 

It’s tough to hear….tough to say….they didn’t love me as much as they said….fuck that stings….but actions….and we’ve all heard this before….actions speak louder than words….it’s the truth….all the sweet words in the world…won’t matter if their actions are saying you’re not worth it to me…. We have to be willing to look at these things….and admit them….when you’re smack in the middle of it we don’t always see it….I certainly didn’t….I do now though….I see them doing the things I desired to have in a relationship….only to be denied….I should’ve walked away sooner….hindsight can be an asshole….karma isn’t coming to save us….so be it…. We can learn from it though….recognize the patterns….

 

No don’t make the new one pay for sins of others….but now you know wait I’m worth it….I’ll be damned if I settle….bring your A game….or don’t bother playing….I’ve survived and now know I can….step up….or step out the door….we know what to look for….

 

Something else you won’t always hear people say….if you’re pissed….a little bitter….just want to flip them off….it’s okay….feel that….don’t deny it….go out with friends and have a few drinks and say….fuck them….turn on music that is so downright grimy you get the gas face listening to it….let it all out….feelings just want to be felt….honor those….feel it all the way….until it’s time to no longer feel them….necessary until it’s unnecessary….but it is okay….OKAY….to be pissed….

 

Sometimes I read sweet quotes and want to throw my phone across the room….we don’t have to walk around blissed out….with smiles and always floating around…..all sweet and awwwww I forgive them….here’s a sunflower….no fuck that….be mad….it means you’ll never settle for less than you deserve again….forgive them when you’re ready….until you are….well this shots for you….I’ll be at the grimy blues bar if you need me.

© Jason King 2016

 

Jason King

 

Jason King is a storyteller, seeker of passion, hopeless romantic, cynic, and possibly completely mad. You can find more of his exquisite writing at Jason King.

Follow Jason’s journey here on The Lithium Chronicles at The Poets

Me and My Dirty Word – S.L. Heaton

I don’t even know why it bothers me…it just does and there’s no rational explanation for it…or at least not one I can come up with that would give any kind of justification to this feeling.

Opened my Facebook and there it was…”in a relationship”…I just sat there and stared at it for the longest time…completely dumbfounded.

Why? I had no rights…no claims to stake…you were never “mine”…and still…it felt like a very hard, stinging slap to the face.

I think somewhere deep down in the very bottom of this ice cold heart there was a feeling…a small glimmer of hope maybe. (I should have known better…my friend Jason King writes about hope being a far dirtier word than fuck…he’s right you know.) A hope that maybe it was going to be you…God how I wanted it to be you.

Well…that’s not going to happen and maybe it never was but at least I had that dirty word in my back pocket to keep my frigid heart hanging on.

Now comes the urge to self-doubt…it’s so strong…the whys begin to needle me and worm their way into my brain. Fuck…this is ridiculousness at its finest.

WHY??? What could have been never was and never will be. I knew it never would be the moment you said the words…I still remember standing in your driveway and hearing them leave your mouth…”I just don’t have time for a relationship right now”…as the lump formed in my throat my mind translated this statement…”YOU are not worth my time.”

Oh my god that hurt…man…the gravity of those 10 words…so heavy and so heartbreaking. I left…with my dirty word in my back pocket…thinking maybe someday.

Well…Mr. “In a relationship” that someday no longer belongs to you…I know you don’t care but it feels good to say it.  It’s like a form of absolution…oh no…not for you…you don’t deserve it…this one is for me. I owe it to myself.

There’s all kinds of quotes out there about “when the time is right”…”there’s someone out there for you”…”someone will love you the way you deserve”…I guess these are intended to make you feel better…I’m not sure about that because I’ve been saying that shit to myself for over three years.

So for now I’m done worrying about it…me and my dirty word will just be over here being all magical and sparkly…doing our own thing…not waiting on anybody.

© S.L. Heaton 2016

 

shawna1

Shawna Heaton, aka Priss, is just a girl with some words. Words that spent entirely too long locked up inside. She’s a mom…grandma…aspiring writer…gym junkie…and all around smart ass. She’s on a journey…she doesn’t know where to but she intends to enjoy the ride.

You can follow her journey on Facebook and Instagram

Six Words

It’s amazing how much can be said, or not said, in six little words.

 

Is It Good Enough? – Matthew D. Eayre

My first day at preschool, I could see that the teacher’s aide wanted to teach me the letters, so I didn’t say,

 

I know this already… I was afraid of hurting her feelings. When she asked me to try, I read the words and kept reading, I learned to read at home when I picked up a book. I saw the letters and they made sense to me,

 

I see the words written when people talk to me, a speech-bubble running out of their mouths. The teacher’s aide in my preschool class was proud of me, for not needing her guidance, she was proud of me for things she had no part in.

 

Is it good enough, I asked, am I doing this right? My mother glanced at my drawing and grunted with a shrug. I was 13 years old, being home-schooled because I got into trouble at Zane Middle School, a year younger than all of my classmates after skipping 6th grade, but I didn’t have problems with them, it was the teachers, faculty, administrators… they wondered at my quirks, questioned my behavior, he’s so different, he’s so quiet, why is he always reading, he doesn’t participate in class, …

 

It doesn’t matter that he’s going through emotional trauma… It doesn’t matter that he passes all the tests…

 

He’s weird… He’s different.

 

They would pull me aside and attempt to exert their supposed authority. I fought back, able to see at 13 that I didn’t want to be what they were, and neither did they.

 

My mother the artist, the creative force, all energy and no substance, my mother the lazy, the coward, the phony star…

 

She barely could see me, and told me of her dreams for my life. She could not understand me, and was so proud of me for not needing her guidance, so happy that she did not need to teach me, her reward child, she named me, a gift to her from god, kind of odd, for a mother of seven to say, this ONE is a gift sent from heaven.

 

Is it good enough, I asked, as I knelt down to the grave of a boy, we were both Matt, he forgot his safety-belt, because his safety was always secondary to fun, his eyes closed and mine opened. As I stood behind the grave as they filled it, feeling like there was blood everywhere, and I spilled it… They looked at me, they looked through me, their eyes so young and full of please, please, please… Don’t let this be true. Is it good enough, I asked as I spoke words for him that I could not believe, goodbye my kid nephew, you fly while we grieve, and the priest in his Latin blessed the shell of his youth, a sermon so hollow, the harsh reality of truth, I must make this matter. I will not let his life be for nothing. I will be what he should have, a star in the sky, I will be the hero of this story, I need to make this matter, am I good enough to be better without God’s guidance?

 

Is it good enough, I asked myself, when I tied the flowers to the altar. She was always mine and I was always hers but this day we will

promise

 

To make this thing work, to put in the love, to hang the painting of us in our sky and always together, together,

 

Is it good enough, I asked as she walked out of the door, dressed as an angel and smiling like the sun, my mind overwhelmed by the love on her face, she is really going through with this and I am finally getting my want. Is it good enough, when my soulmate hurricane asks for more, to feel more, to do things which we have not done, to help her feel things she has dreamed of and never seen. Will she be proud of me if I try, will it be better if I am what she wants or if I am only pretending, will I be good enough to fill her senses with what she needs to feel? Can I be the ocean and not just a river? I am so afraid of not being everything she wants, is it good enough to try… If I fail? Will she be proud of me when I ask her for guidance, I don’t know my way through her maze…

 

Is it good enough, I asked as my words piled up, displayed bits of my torn sails flapping in the wind, darkness spun into woven gold and silver, shiny pages of purity risen from the graves of sin and beastly desire. Am I what my dear grandmother wanted to see, when she read me the guidelines of writing poetry, when she instructed my hands to create a new world, when she showed me how to say what needs to be said,

 

without first knowing what it is,

 

Is it good enough?

 

Am I a real boy, dancing and playing with Pinocchio, the Fairy Godmother has granted my wish, am I good enough to be more than what I thought I was, more than what life taught me to be?

Is it good enough?

 

Do I exist, am I real?

 

Just words on a screen

© Matthew D. Eayre 2016

matt

 

Matthew D. Eayre is a writer living in Denver with his wife and children. Refusing to exist as only one thing, he works as a supervisor in a delivery company while pursuing his BA in Accounting and chasing his dreams of making his voice heard in the world.

You can connect find more of Matthew’s stunning words at Matthew D. Eayre, Poetry of Monsters and on Instagram.

Purchase a copy of his extraordinary book here.