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Just Not ReadyEvery time I think of you I feel happy.
When I see you I feel comfortable.
But when I hold you I feel safe.
When I hold you I cry, I smile, I remember.
My whole life you have never let me down.
Family threw me away but you stood your ground.
When I was angry, sad or happy you stuck around.
Never judging me you were always ready for hugs, tears and secrets.
Oh my teddy, my best friend, I'm still not ready to let you go!
Book Review Emotional FitnessTitle: Emotional Fitness: Discovering our Natural Healing Power
Author: Janice Berger and Harry Hall
Genre: Self Help
The author of Emotional Fitness seems to have made it into more than just a publication. She has made cds, hosts workshops and seminars and counsels people through their own healing. Her website
(http://www.janiceberger.com/) has wonderful information about the process to healing ourselves. Janice Berger is considered to be a pioneer off Deep Emotional Therapy and has been counselling for over 30 years.
Janice Berger co-authored Emotional Healing with Harry Hall who has been practicing Deep Emotional Therapy for over 20 years. Harry trained in the psychiatric practice of the late Dr. L. Macintosh here in Toronto.
To best review this book I began looking at the sections. The introduction to this book is filled with powerful emotions. The author has openly shared her pain with the reader in order to allow them feel more comfortable with their own past
AngerBubbling, boiling anger
Pushing at the brim
Ready to burst over
To all's chagrin
Silent or Not?Is silence truly the answer?
Some say that silence is strength.
Some believe it is weakness.
To be silent and feared,
or to be silent and walked on?
Which seems more likely?
I keep silent and am lost in concerns.
I keep silent and am abused.
I keep silent and die inside from my pain.
I speak up and stand tall.
I speak up and am known.
I speak up and am seen.
I am silent and no one knows me.
I am silent and everyone fears me.
I am silent and no one remembers me.
I say my piece and am considered.
I speak my mind and am liberated.
I share my emotions and I am freed.
To be silent and feared
or silent and abused?
To speak and be hated
or speak and be heard?
To be me or to please
others who think they know best?
No Notes?You sad I left no notes
But did you read my poetry?
I had tried to tell you,
How, when and where I'd be going.
Instead you ignored me.
You claimed I would be fine.
You never understood,
I already was gone.
CharlieBending metal around your heart,
hoping molten melting doesn't start.
You ebb and flow with the tide,
hiding solely behind your pride.
Air helps blow emotions away,
that the walls never fail, you pray.
Missing is the flame that drives,
gives the fire to fight and thrive.
That fire may give meaning to your life,
possibly ending pain, anger, loss and strife.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
a deck of cards
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More