Thanks for the invite. I am a Registered Nurse of 13 years in ER and working on my creative writing degree with two more semesters. I already have many writings; poems, essays, short stories, and a novel now. I had to take a break, I recently found out I have depersonalization disorder with dissociation. This is why I add the poem, which was written in a dissociation. That was how I found out. Finding my writings, that I had no memory of doing. And he is good. He, He He. Isnt that me. It is from my childhood abuse, bad-Do not want to go into now, but can express in my poems-both from the Dr and Mr Hyde-Oh you did not know? Robert Louis Stevenson novel, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde was non fiction Oh yea I forgot I recently got out of hell six months ago! All true!!! This is the first time I have ever talked about my visit into Hades. And I felt it was time. Its been six moths since the ferry man brought me back. Hades never looked at me, and me him. He knew! Not many make it out, they bargain and plead but to no avail. I refused! I looked within for me to grab hold of it and he saw this act, day after day, night after night-Thinking to himself this Mark here believes in something that will not help him. And he smiled, not a mocking smile, just an amusing undertaking. Not concerned much. Until he saw what i found, then bowed unto me, he said, You my friend never gave up, even when hope had betrayed you and even mocked you, you never stopped. You humans amaze me at times. Your task was futile and you knew this , of course; am I not correct at assessing this? Yes, I know. But you found your own holy grail, forged it, sculpted it, loved it and out of what? Flesh- bone. Where do you find and create such atrocious things, but it is nothing I can create, so you must leave and never return. Your business is done here. And gave me the the coins to cross back to my home. This is truth I speak. for I have just told you the truth. The demons, well, I befriended them, helped them with tasks they could not do. I gave myself and all that I had to help them. For they were not evil, they were condemned. By giving to them I forged my resolve and will, and it grew and grew. that is how I made it out of hell my friends. -Mark Miller A Divide Figurative rooms into Attics imbalance holds authors temporal tempest Past emotions ceremonious -his rufflans double solicit stance hold unconscious resistance - Subterfuge of stingy passion embrace a stranger of worlds light with malice bequest pasts battlefield of rage and angst forged in chemical fronts -A duel of solipsistic dance Terrain torn by texture in night and day, slumber and wakefulness- The Dark haunted threshold of a disembodied memory vested in vexation Dreams horror lies where sensory perception shuts-lost is direction of awareness- Futile mistakes belong to Intangible states of casual reduction Thantological Sedation breaks through the living wall- Symbols paved by lifes mortar and brick crash down below a lifes alien photographs- One by one come crashing down- a minds eye views the deaden past of fall Walking among my owned victims cells of time- trauma still remains By Mark Miller
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 06:47:02 +0000
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