Tuesday Tunes

Hello my lovelies. Welcome back for another song. Tell me in the comments what you are listening to today?

Today I bring you

Aerosmith- Janie’s Got a Gun

Lyrics –

[Verse 1]
Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done?
Dum, dum, dum it’s the sound of my gun
Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done?
Dum, dum, dum it’s the sound

[Chorus 1]
Janie’s got a gun
Janie’s got a gun
Her whole world’s come undone
From lookin’ straight at the sun
What did her daddy do?
What did he put you through?

[Verse 2]
They said when Janie was arrested
They found him underneath a train
But man, he had it comin’
Now that Janie’s got a gun
She ain’t never gonna be the same

[Chorus 2]
Janie’s got a gun
Janie’s got a gun
Her dog day’s just begun
Now everybody is on the run
Tell me now it’s untrue
What did her daddy do?
He jacked a little bitty baby
The man has got to be insane
They say the spell that he was under the lightning and
The thunder knew that someone had to stop the rain

[Chorus 3]
Run away, run away from the pain yeah, yeah yeah
Run away run away from the pain yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Run away, run away, run, run away

[Chorus 2]
Janie’s got a gun
Janie’s got a gun
Her dog day’s just begun
Now everybody is on the run

[Verse 2]
What did her daddy do?
It’s Janie’s last I.O.U
She had to take him down easy and put a bullet in his brain
She said cause nobody believes me. The man was such a sleeze
He ain’t never gonna be the same

[Chorus 3]
Run away, run away from the pain yeah, yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Run away run away from the pain yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Run away, run away, run, run away

[Guitar Solo]

[Chorus 2]
Janie’s got a gun
Janie’s got a gun
Janie’s got a gun
Now everybody is on the run

[Outro]
Janie’s got a gun
Her dog day’s just begun
Now everybody is on the run (Honey honey, what’s the problem?)
Because Janie’s got a gun (Tell me it ain’t right)
Janie’s got a gun (Was it Daddy’s cradle robbing that)
Her dog day’s just begun (Made you scream at night?)
Now everybody is on the run
Janie’s got a gun

My two cents :

This song brought me comfort as a teen. I am an abuse survivor… And I was not believed. So I was a very angry teenager. I really think that most teens are angry. The injustice of being too young to do adult things and too old to be a kid. But I was fighting battles that I had no idea of how to deal with. This song spoke about vengeance against abuse. It spoke to the angry in me. I still love the song for that reason. It speaks to the part of me that has never seen justice. I have a lovely playlist that I may share… There is a lot of songs that talk about abuse… A lot more than most people realize exist.

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Random thoughts of poetry.

Now I normally don’t do this. I don’t explain my poetry, or my art, because I think that most people see what they want to in anything creative. I feel like explanation ruins a piece. To be honest this post is not entirely an explanation… But rather an aside. I have been thinking a lot lately about accountability. About guilt and mistakes. About what I am responsible for in my life and what regrets I should have and what it all means.

I have thought about the regrets that others have expressed towards me. I find that I have very few actual regrets. Each of my choices I made with all of the knowledge that I had at the time. I have revisited some of them later… And hindsight makes regret easy… If you let it.

The problem comes in when you allow regret to consume your conscience. We are as a society, cold. We have lost the conscience. We have lost the knowledge of good and evil, or the will to care. When prison actually looks better than trying to make your way in this miserable world…lives of others no longer matter. That is not a mental illness thing… It is a wake up call.

We have a society where you can work 60+ hours a week and still not be able to afford to pay rent. We live in a society where there is often no way of breaking even, much less getting ahead. Where hate and violence is broadcast nightly on the news. So I have to wonder how we as a society can fix this? How can we take responsibility for the problem and fix it?

Thursday Straight Talk (a day early)

Tw: mention of abuse, suicide, and rape.

I have ptsd. This is not something that I tend to talk about often because it has a stigma attached. I get claustrophobic. I hyperventilate. I dissociate. I struggle with the urge to hide. I am an insomniac. I am a survivor. None of the things I have listed make me a bad person. Most are the result of trauma and of keeping myself so hypervigilant for so long. I see a doctor. I take meds. Some days are better than others. I have learned coping methods. I have learned to be aware of my triggers. No I am not a snowflake. No I don’t have to have a safe place. I don’t even know what a safe place is. I take life one day at a time. I have panic moments as so many people do. They are from knowing that real monsters exist in this world. Monsters that hide in human skin. I am not suicidal. I really don’t want to die. However on my bad days I find that I wish I had never been born. I struggle with telling my story. I spoke my truth. I was called a liar. I came forward with one piece… And was not believed. I only told one person, because I was a child. If a child tells you their pain… Believe them. For you may be the only one they tell. My journey has been long. I was so fractured that I had at one point nearly 13 separate “alters” I am down to two. I used to have nightmares nightly. I am down to on average twice a month. Struggling with this does not make me less. I have come an amazingly long way… From losing months of time to now I lose an hour rarely. I am healing.

This is not something that I expected to post, if I am honest. I am careful about letting this all be “known” because I have others in my life that I know are embarrassed when the topic comes up. I have no reason for embarrassment. I am not ashamed of who I am. But, I love them. So I hold my tongue sometimes. However, I have been thinking about it. Perhaps it is not the right thing to do. I think that perhaps sharing the struggle might be more helpful for others who are struggling. I don’t know if I will share the details, yet.

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The man who did it abused others. He served time for one, and only one, of his victims. He has never been to court for what he did to me.

I survived a gang rape. And I survived another rape.

I survived domestic violence, by more than one of my relationships. My current love is the first time I have not been physically abused by the man in my life.

I have been homeless. I have been without food. I learned how to survive in each of these cases.

I have done things that I was not proud of. Hasn’t everyone? So, if I have a bad day… I might post some depression memes on social media. My poetry may get a bit darker. My art angrier.

Still. I survive. I am always here ready to listen. I understand what survival costs. Some days are better than others. Today I did not sleep. My mind would not quiet. Today my mind was attacking me with my faults in litany. Tomorrow may be better.

I know that this is published on Wednesday. I will post the art for Wednesday a day late because I think that this is important.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “HOME” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

If you or a loved one is affected by sexual abuse or assault and need help, call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Writing Friday

Writing. Crap. What do I say? Do I sit here and try to explain that, at least for me, writing is something akin to breathing? That there’s never been a time when I didn’t need to put words together? And then I would have to tell you just how it feels to read what I wrote and think that I am not cut out for this. How many people who I know personally who are brilliant at this whole writing gig. Still… I would have to mention that the idea of stopping is actually painful. It has been how I was able to see the answers to life, since before I ever realized that there was a question.

Usually, I try to use the Friday post to give tips, and help with the whole writing and publishing thing. And I think that is great to keep the blog going… But today I was thinking about the reason why I write. Yeah… I could probably claim that I was trying to add beauty. But I don’t generally lie. My art is more how I do beauty. Abstract and pencil drawings to encourage happiness in the eye of the beholder. My children’s books are a way of connecting with my daughter, as they have thus far been stories I told her, or wrote for her. Serena’s stuff is stories that I want to read. But if I am honest with myself… My main writing is my poetry.

My poetry will never be hallmark stuff. My poetry is raw emotion and survival. I have lived a survivors life. My poetry is how I have been able to express myself even when my voice was stolen. I could write my story… Even though I was being told I lied. I could write it and it was accepted because it was poetry. It was written in a way that meant I was non-threatening to those who were part of hurting me. And it was written off as just an angsty teen writing depressing poetry… For don’t we all have that stage?

After I was free, and I was no longer needing verse to speak my truth, well it was still the easiest way to speak my pain. To spread my views. It was habit. I may never be able to sit along with the likes of Poe or Dickenson… But my words will remain. I will be there when another lost soul seeks to know that they are not alone.

Pad pain

poetic asides

Today that prompt was one that I have had for a while. Broken. And I was battling a migraine. So I have considered it before and only came up with cliché poetry. Today that prompt was right.

Migraine headache means that writing is cruel as I use electronic means only. Arthritis pain means handwriting is not a great idea. So I am struggled with even doing a poem.

Day five

poem a day challenge

Prompt a private poem.

This one is a bit of a thing for me. I don’t believe in secrets. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The word secret carries some tough pain with it. Please if it has to be a secret, don’t do it…