dVerse: Two Two Four Four

dVerse: Numerology

2244 came into my life
when i chose it as the last 4 digits
to my cellphone...my car phone 
at the time
the salesperson was a friend
and let me choose from a page
because i wanted a number
easy to remember

it was almost two decades
before my amnesia came undone
and learned 2244 
was a part of me
a guiding number
a number that told me
when i was on the right path

it didn't matter in what form
22 or 44. 224 or 442 or 242
the numbers were my synchronicity
44 became 44N at one point
in Italy in 2005 we took a side trip
to Cinque Terre
because of a breathtaking view
we found online
not until after the trip was booked
did i get an internal "push"
Cinque Terre was 44 degrees N
initially afraid to go
i found huge healing during that trip

last year was france
husband chose Avignon
i said "okay"
accidentally found Avignon was 44N
disbelief
italy couldn't be parallel with france
but those two cities were
another healing experience
most extraordinary
a time of synchronicity

2+2+4+4 = 3
i used to do that all the time
with numbers that came through
my amnesia
perhaps one time the number
had a different meaning
but was transformed before
i remembered
it's me
it's my number
grace2244


Not exactly poetry or prose...but my stream of consciousness on this prompt.

CD: Mysterious Wonders

Carpe Diem #251 ~ Mystical

how future knowledge
comes with such accuracy ~
my inner wisdom

***

breathing in wonder
standing at ancient canyon ~
mystical breezes

HH: Time & Timeless

Haiku Heights #226   ~ Time

time is on our side ~
whoever uttered those words
did not know of us

***

a year of our lives
me with my thin band of gold
secure in our love

 

Toads: Teddy Bear In Love

Imaginary Garden for Real Toads
Sunday Mini-Challenge

The challenge is to write love poetry/prose from one inanimate object to another.

Photo by Grace Beam

teddy admired lola from afar...

from the other side of the room

he with his well groomed fur

and glass eyes

she with perky white fur

and pink sweater

lola eyed him peeking

out from beneath the doll cradle

moving only when 

the humming cleaning lady 

dusted him off

she could see how he strained 

to see her

teddy wanted to meet the sweet canine

whose job was to hide the cords 

to an assortment of gadgets 
behind the television stand

he wished he had a job to impress her

helpless to do more

he spoke to her as only stuffed animals can

and silently wrote love letters in his mind 

hoping she would know they were for her

my dearest lola,

you are my only love

your pink sweater calls my name

i want so to run my paw through

your beautiful white tufts

if only we could be together

i sense you too have been loving me

from over there

perhaps one day

and we can only hope

we will be chosen to be

forevermore

in the prized moses basket

where the others are united

i love you with all my heart

i bear my soul to you

will you be mine and mine alone

in this staid world of ours

it would bring me such joy

love to you,

the bear under the crib

Who Am I Now?

My world has changed drastically since mid-May. I went from a mostly integrated multiple to a completely integrated person. I am what we multiples referred to as a singleton or monomind. I'm proof of healing from one of the most evil plans our government has hatched...an intentionally created multiple to commit acts as commanded throughout life without memory of doing so. I rendered their blueprints for my own demise after memory a failure. It took 16 years with a 4 year reprieve when all appeared integrated...so an intense 12 year journey.

Along with integration, my level of anxiety for journeying outside on my own went from an 8 to 10 (on a scale of 1 to 10) to a zero. Lack of energy still keeps me a bit alone but I've been much more active and don't need my husband to drive me everywhere.

What I call a shift in consciousness happened when I integrated. My mood shifted in addition to level of anxiety. With my psychiatrist, we made a plan for me to go off my antidepressants and that will happen in a few days.

My weekly therapy to deal with my fear of living is no longer necessary because the fear is gone. I no longer have a regularly scheduled monthly appointment to address DID issues, although my therapist is still there "as needed". No therapy. I was in therapy 15 years on and off before my amnesia began to leak in 1997. That's when therapy became my life...two to three times a week initially.

What remains of my 40 decades of trauma is leftover PTSD and oversensitivity to every day sounds/noises. I've been led to neurofeedback and will begin treatment after my third session of brain mapping next week. I've already seen how out of whack my brain waves are compared to normal and know my brain can learn how to calm down.

This is a new world yet I still am working on a way to tell my story...trying a new approach through a novel. No one believes my past anyway. Well some do. The general population does not and cannot or does not want to believe the evil in government. Although maybe the time is ripe at the moment.

The problem is that I've been a survivor whose live has been healing, with the exception of 2004-2007 when I was healed sufficiently to be a therapist...before my body crashed into disability status.

Now I'm a writer and the story still wants to be told. And I'm becoming more open than ever before about it. I have no idea what's normal for someone with an extraordinary (and not in a good way) life. I don't know how to be whatever normal is.

If feel I still have a need to continue to educate about the horror of the government underground through my writing. Outside of that and caring for my garden and enjoying my husband, home, and pets. I'm feeling like a fish out of water.

I also had a brain mapping session today and my brain got overly stimulated in trying to pinpoint the exact strength of light to use in my treatment. As a result I feel a bit weirded out but have written profusely today, all things considered. My final DID blog post completed today. And spilling my guts here.

Who am I now? I really don't know. I'm a survivor but healed. I do believe I survived to educate. All I feel I can do in that endeavor is write. And live to travel with my husband. Enjoying life...still in training.

CD: When Fact Meets WTF

Carpe Diem #250 ~ Credibility

most don't believe me
until they want to seek truth ~
incredulous past

***

nice sci fi story ~
covert documents destroyed
credible no more

***

his love and support
knowing of my covert past ~
finally believed

dVerse: Mickey Mouse Beat

 dVerse: Mix and Match (2)

Since doing my cento yesterday and someone commented on another writing about A Clockwork Orange, the first line of this Dada with Scissors (I think) has been swirling in my head. Sounds like a beat poem to me although it might fall under another heading I don't know about. It just flowed out after I got that first line down.

 

in this mickey mouse clockwork orange world
hickory dickory is the doc who pulls the strings
to the puppets without brains
and dr seuss puts the cat on the hat
and jack spratt jumps over the moon

left is right and right is wrong
and alice fell down the rabbit hole 
to oz 
and one pill made her smaller
and ect made her forget
and now her brain can't think straight

it's dog eat dog and mary had a little lamb
the monster under the bed
isn't real but he will get you at night
and no one will ever believe
because the world goes around in 80 days
and what did i just say?

CD: The Look of Love

Carpe Diem #249 ~ Compassion

Not me but I did have stuffed animals.

In 2007, I was in the hospital for complications from botched up surgery a few times. For days I was kept there wondering if I would live to walk out. I remember so vividly feeling and looking a mess, unable to move, telling Brian we wouldn't be able to go on vacation that summer. He smiled, squeezed my hand, and said "we'll go next summer." Gosh, that just made me cry to type that. I've never known such a compassionate man. That was five years before we married.


opening my eyes
his smile while holding my hand ~
hospital bedside

dVerse: Poe Gone Mad

dVerse: Mix and Match

Our challenge is to try a new form of poetry. In looking over the choices, I was immediately drawn to collage because that is my dominant form of art in images. The cento is a new poem created from bits and pieces of verse from other authors. Will have to do some research but here goes.

Polyvore by Grace Beam

the woods are lovely, dark, and deep

deep into that darkness peering,
long I stood there wondering, fearing

a wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

the darkest evening of the year

there fell a silvery-silken veil of light

I shall be telling this with a sigh  

between stars—on stars where no human race is

and be one traveler, long I stood

the starry voice ascending spreads

in the silence of the night

is but a dream within a dream

so that now, to still the beating of my heart

pressing the brain, which too much thought expands,

back to its proper size again

The lines are mostly from Poe and Frost with a few from a famous poet site. Not an easy task but I like the concept.

FSF: Building Her Internal World

Five Sentence Fiction ~ Wisdom

Image Source

In retrospect, Rose realized her inner wisdom had been with her since age 5 when she began to internalize television show personalities who she saw as people who would protect her: private detectives, police officers, soldiers. Internally she would role play the television episodes with some adaption placing herself into the story always ending up being rescued.
 
Rose never shared her ever growing inner world with others and never deemed them as imaginary friends. After coming to know she had been acting out a form of backwards multiplicity four decades later, it all made sense.  Somehow it felt good knowing her inner wisdom had always been with her protecting her in his own way.


Photo: "77 Sunset Strip" was a popular television series about a private investigative firm which aired in the late 50s.

CD: Treasures

Carpe Diem #248   ~ Inner Beauty

Photo Source

those who take the time

to look beyond the façade ~

treasures to behold

The Whole Truth

Confession

La Tonya started her own topic to share a confession. Though many in real life know this about me, this is a brave new world and I've been dipping my toes into the water but never really saying THIS IS ME.

My being aches to scream the truth. I try to fictionalize. I use different names but they are all me. My truth is ugly. People don't want to know such things about our government. It's too evil to hurt children so look the other way. My novel is my real life story with some fiction to fill in the unknown/unproved blanks although many blanks are filled in by researched history. Click click click...it falls into place. My amnesia completing a story that never completely came out of my head, but enough did. And I know so many other survivors of the same or similar program. My life is like a science fiction movie. Everything can be googled. Much is now declassified. But it's still not okay. I am MacKenzie. I am Libby. My f*ther is Elias. I write to be heard...or try to be heard. Haiku has helped me find a place of peace but still the past leaks through even in that form. Will others still want to know me if that is my truth?

HH: Tight Squeeze

Haiku Heights #265 ~ Squeeze

hearing the tortoise

turn sideways in her "cabin"

sound of shell on wood

dVerse: Happy Moments

dVerse: Open Link Night 105

Photo by Brian Beam

under froggy shade

epitome of happy ~

tortoise in garden

Our tortoise Lucy munching on rose petals in front of her log cabin under her shade umbrella. She's not spoiled is she?

CD: Jane Reichhold's "Sweeping the Porch"

Carpe Diem Special #47

Our challenge is to write a haiku in the same spirit as Jane Reichhold's haiku:

sweeping the porch
bright prints of raindrops 
followed by splashes

My attempt:

dusting his dresser

tracing blurred memories

of life together

MWM: Lady of Lourdes

Mornings With Mary

Photo Source

mary caped in gold
watches over us as we pass
hoping for a glance




This is the National Shrine Grotto of Lourdes high over Mount St. Mary's University in Emmitsburg, PA. We pass her when we visit Washington DC. She's not easily visible except for a moment when I can crane my neck. Will have to make plans just to visit her and all the other statues and art in the Grotto.

Photo Source

 

Trifecta: Blind Obedience (4)

Trifecta: Week Eighty-Six

This week's challenge is to write 33 to 333 words using the definition of CRACK:  a)  a narrow break : fissure ; b)  a narrow opening —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out.


This is the fourth installment of Blind Obedience which is fictionalized history based, in part, on actual government programs involving children and pieced together through declassified documents. The previous segments can be read here.

Wernher Von Braun (suit)

While anyone looking at the country’s Cold War would see the US versus the Soviet Union, far beneath, in the layer of Firefly, existed a drastically different agenda. The Federal Reserve, which began in the 1920s, and the World Bank which began in 1944, held the foresight of the wealthiest of the wealthy (tying back to royal bloodlines) dominating the world, known in whispered circles as The New World Order. Part of that Orwellian state included not only mind control of their subjects but cooperation of the world’s wealthiest including the upper class in the Soviet Union. At that deep hidden level, for many decades, the worldwide elite manipulated public perception of their activities while steadily moving forward. Priority one was to save themselves from their own man made evil, which was part and parcel of the greater doctrine.

Both Russia and the US had secret plans to send an entourage to space to colonize the moon in the event of imminent nuclear annihilation. Wernher von Braun, an Operation Paperclip Nazi, was first placed with the US Army working on missiles and worked his way up to director of NASA. All puzzle pieces were fitting nicely into place—mainstreamed criminal Nazi’s fully embraced by the US thanks to propaganda.

Elias seethed at knowing he was training others to create the genetically engineered offspring to be the new mind controlled generation who would colonize space with a select few leaders and scientists. His “daughter”, one of the “chosen”, would potentially survive a nuclear holocaust while he perished. It made him hate her even more. He did his job well of maintaining her fear and terrorizing her subconsciously to keep her personalities in tact. He despised that he had to be mindful of never allowing his thin veneer of restraint to crack. His assigned asset was crucial to the program and ending her life would end his career and possibly his life as well.

Words: 320 

CD: Willpower

Carpe Diem #247

 

Photo by Grace Beam

peaceful garden monk ~

outward symbol of steadfast

healing willpower 

deepest depression ~

the willpower it takes

to stay alive

enlightenment ~

guided by inner wisdom's

power of will

 

Merge: Blind Obedience (3)

Write At The Merge: Week 29

For this week's challenge I chose one of two prompts: Nancy Sinatra singing "These Boots Were Made For Walking". This is the continuation of the fictionalized but real secret government program where children were raised as a hidden generation of mind controlled "puppets". The previous segments can be found here.

Elias was in awe meeting the most reviled Nazi of all time, Josef Mengele with his narcissistic confidence and black boots remembered by many long after the concentration camps; Reinhard Gehlen, who was allied by the CIA for his many contacts with the Soviet Union and his knowledge of what was needed to stay ahead of Soviet advancements in mind control; and Jose Delgado, a man with no loyalties but whose knowledge of brain stimulation and manipulating both animals and children to perform as puppets rather than entities with their mind. All were integral to training those whose children would become the first babies born into the program.

Training for Elias’ role for his own child began before its conception. He had no problem signing the documents, although he hated the clause stating his own flesh and blood child would be swapped at birth with a child genetically engineered for the program. He winced at knowing he might have a son he would never know. To ensure his loyalty to Firefly (the highly secretive program of targeting genetically engineered newborns), the CIA made it known they had proof of Elias’ history as a pedophile—knowledge that would ruin his life and career. His job in the larger scheme of the program was to teach the art of torture to create multiple personalities in the young minds, beginning pre-birth.  

Aberdeen Proving Grounds was a common layover point for Nazis entering the US under Operation Paperclip before being given a permanent assignment. Elias trained in 1951 and was prepared for his newborn in late 1952. He was also able to incorporate the new techniques that did not apply to newborns to his now nearly three-year-old child.

The genetically engineered baby was the egg of the biological mother and the sperm of a highly secretive royalty sperm bank. It was long held in the occult that certain bloodlines were meant to be preserved and children hidden from the royal donors would ensure the succession. In fact many donors were also raised in the occult creating childhood multiplicity and became unwitting sperm donors as teens fathering numerous unknown children. The Nazis were forced to worship Satan and participate in the rituals. That knowledge became part and parcel of Firefly. The same people responsible for creating the sophisticated personality structure of each child were also the people at the terrifying ceremonies where the ultimate traumas were perpetrated on the children.

It had been identified before the program that messages a child or adult heard at the height of terror were retained far more quickly than any other method. It was the means to an end but also the fulfillment of an insatiable desire by pedophiles and sociopaths who cared more about their country’s goals and personal perversions than their own children’s welfare.

As for the biological mother, all unwitting wives would never have memory of the medical procedure to extract the eggs.

Words: 486

Wordle: Diagnosis

The Sunday Whirl
Wordle 117

 

the lab detected cancer

it had to be a mistake

he is young and deserves

a second chance

how could he be so sick

after clearing his conscience

on a high note of life

finally

friends and family together

try to translate the meaning

the impact to his life

to theirs

to his love

and baby girl

they will not rest

search for hope

another opinion

and pray

he will not leave