This is ‘Her-Story’ in Verse
(As opposed to ‘His-Story)
Metaphors abound
To prove a simple state
A single thought can lead to innovation
As technology demonstrates
We see this process daily
In a culture, fiat ruled
People seeking their fulfillment
Born on a ship of fools
Accepting development as true (*1)
Things are just the way they are
Not looking behind the veil
Or digesting all the parts
I have strong opinions
‘Bout the structure of religion
The story born of ‘His-story’
And generalized decisions
My knowledge, not solid
Just a surface skim
‘Bout the Roman Empire
Still not at the end
Morphing of the Empire
Into the Catholic Church
Forced on me by my grandma
Prior to my brother’s birth
Third grade, her education
Housekeeper to the priest
Above a mortuary perched
Perhaps where she found her peace
“If you want to marry him”. . .
. . .Seventeen, dad’s age
Grandma signing off on it
A promise mom had made
Mom didn’t want to lie to her
Although in another state (*2)
Sent us on the weekends
No rest, our constant fate
In 1959 grandma hit the dust (*3)
Fell over on the bed
After cooking for the priest
Long last, she was dead (*4)
I never really knew her (*5)
Except the packages she sent
Stuff she won at Bingo
At the catholic church events
Then within my teen years
A P.E. friend I had (*6)
Who’s continence was magnetic
As a Baptist, seemed so glad
That took me down that path (*7)
For just a little while
Until I met my children’s father
An Aries with a stoic style
A believer, NOT of fantasy
Religion, not his thing. . .
. . .”A crutch just for the weak”
A common verse would sing
Rhetoric of politics
The Federal Reserve, a constant theme
I thought he was a radical
Whining about such things
He died in 2017
As memory is served
A ‘Good man’ with flaws
His DNA preserved
Three children of his droppings (*8)
Together had we made
Girls living independent lives
Fulfilled on most days
His death reduced resistance (*9)
To my ignorance he saw
A judgment that he carried
He saw beyond it all (*10)
The CFR, the Bilderberg’s . . .
The Rothschilds overseas
On and on and on he’d go
My thought, “Stop it, will you please!” (*11)
Complacent, my position
Just fingers in the hair
A roof, food, transportation, toys
Income always shared
Twenty-three years of marriage
Ended in eighty-seven
Unhappy, couldn’t persevere
Was bread without the leaven
Second husband showed up in 2001
A very fateful year
911, Afghanistan
Media spreading fear
Ten years now a TV virgin
Pull from the Quantum Vacuum (*12)
Sometimes called Zero-point field
True? Only can assume
A sea of information
Particles called photons
The QV a sea of light
That I apparently rely upon. . .
TM helped in the 70s
To take my stress away
Harnessing me to my Higher Mind
The Infinite, I’d say
Accumulated experience
Brings forth the conclusions
Arrogant, I realize
Hopefully not just delusion
Others might see only that
I understand perception
We all live within our boundaries
Starting with inception
So, the conclusion and my point of view
Are born inside time and space
Based on my single path
Housed behind this face
The metaphor of energy
Lives in prolific forms
Signals bringing TV waves
Or, cell phones, as a norm
As an Empath, somewhat psychic
In ‘touch’ with what I do
Pick up information
From clients, it is true
But it lives within my single path
Was this why I came to BE?
To live within inquiry
And to unravel what I see?
I know nothing as a constant
For change is all there is
Incredulity holds most hostage
As indoctrination still exists
8/19/22 #3
5:55 AM – 7:10 AM
Footnotes
8/20/22
(*1) Accepting development as true: referring to the structure of society,
government, and the money system. . . Afterall, if it exists, it must be ok!
(*2) Grandma lived in Ohio, we moved to California, so grandma Brady (Mary
Willie) might not have ever known whether we went or not; but my mom didn’t
want to lie to grandma, so every Saturday we went to Catechism and Sunday
to church. We heard everything in Latin (I guess) and didn’t understand a
word. Learned how to genuflect and all the chest beating that we copied
from others.
(*3) I apologize, sounds disrespectful but if it wasn’t for Mary my
grandmother and Joseph my day and him making it home from WWII, I wouldn’t
be here.
(*4) Again, sounds disrespectful. . . I was just glad that I had become
untethered to weekend church duty. My dad had a baseball team, he was a
coach and an umpire as well, so the call that came in about grandma was
when they were gone. I was 12 at the time, home babysitting my sitter who
was 2 or 3.
I met my mother on the porch as they were coming into the house, I think I
said, “Grandma’s dead” (probably not the most tactful way to put it), I
think mom slapped my face. That lives for me as a distant memory. It was
just a weird reaction, mom wouldn’t have hurt me for the world, I was her
“right hand.”
(*5) We moved away when I was 2 years old. I do have a scar on my chest
from a cup of grandma’s coffee. Evidently, she put in my reach and I
pulled it over and scalded myself.
(*6) Lynn Babbitt, she just seemed to have such a sweet nature, kind. I
figured her religion figured into it and began going to her church. By
this time I was driving.
(*7) Started going to her church, I think it was in Castaic California or
maybe Newhall. When I was ready to graduate, I applied to LABC, Los
Angeles Baptist College, I was accepted, but didn’t take it beyond that.
I don’t know if you’d call me impotent when it comes to asking for help,
but I never followed up on much. I did not know to go to the college and
sit with a counselor for any form of guidance. I didn’t even go to my own
graduation ceremony. The reason being, my folks gave me no reason to think
they were going. I’m not sure if I asked them or made it known that I’d
like it. I know I paid $14. out of my own pocket because I had an office
job making 50 cents an hour.
I say that I used to be shy, but when I look back, it seems to show up as
ignorant behavior. . . but I guess it was as well.
(*8) Not the put-down that it sounds like; but he did have a strong sex
drive.
(*9) At some point in my journey, I’ve come to believe that “thought
being a force” if we are judging or resisting something, we actually use
the “force of our resistance” to reify or calcify that which we find
repugnant. We actually become complicit as conscious conduits of energy.
That is obviously an interpretation. In this instance, it might be seen as
a justification, but it is a pattern I’ve seen play out time and time
again. I think that’s why adopting an attitude of “Stoic Indifference”
might put one in the place of exercising a higher form of state of being.
More conjecture, lol
(10) “He saw beyond it all”: the Central Banking System.
(*11) The political tirades would usually take place on Sunday mornings
when we run to Mi Ranchito on Center St., Stockton, California. He’d get
started and it would last a while, as memory serves. I never tried to
muffle him, but I did get tired of hearing it.
(*12) From the book Punk Science Inside the Mind of God, by Dr. Manjir
Samanta-Laughton pg. 97