control – Opinions Of Eye

The Criminal In Me –

“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.” – Nelson Mandela

Demon_Inside_ME_by_LorelainW.jpg

Resisting impulses to do and to numb.
Trying my best just to overcome
The Criminal in Me
I’m not hard by glance, at first sight,
But only I know the plight
Of the Criminal in Me
A forlorn soul, tied to earth by pain,
Inside he seeks to make life pay,
The Criminal in Me
How many times I asked to be free
All in vain, no one can see
The Criminal in Me
Addictions to things both seen and not seen
Leaving all behind to find those things
The Criminal in Me
I look for peace but yet I must be
Not controlled but living by
The Criminal in Me.

Also published in Broowaha

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

12182010

Mortal Dance – Engage the Pack

“What we think of as our sensitivity is only the higher evolution of terror in poor dumb beasts. We suffer for nothing. Our own death wish is our only real tragedy.” – Mario Puzo

itsraininguniverse

As I listen, my music carrying me away, I feel death circling. A thousand shards of ice sharp pain brings me its gifts of gray emotion. Inevitably sunrise comes, in spite of my night loving wishes. A blank stare possesses my eyes, and life leaves. Can I be dead and alive at the same time? Is this what’s wrong? Am I trying to move rigor mortised limbs? If feelings are dead, is the blood running warm and blue any life at all? It’s like nothing matters when you look over that edge. I want to peek, to glimpse at what’s beyond. Is this what predators sense? That I flirt with death and sleep restlessly for want of it? They surround my camp with fire lit eyes. I see them jumping, ducking in and out of the light, playing with me, afraid to rush in too quick. One tugs at me, yanking my leg to see if I move. I gasp, pushing away the comfort of mortality to engage the pack. It’s the fight that brings me back to life. Until then there’s no reason, but when the enemies come, that, that is why I live, only to fight. Men have ruined everything else in my life but this I control. When it’s time, I will bring death to myself, no one else will take that privilege.

Victim of love?

“…and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love’s ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.” – Stephen King, The Dark Tower

deppography

Speak to me of love’s glories and I’ll show you the teeth of this wild thing. Love is used as a lever to control people and deliver them to the slaughter. I think of the lonely woman, in love with her man. He beats her, cusses her, rapes her, and demeans her at every turn, yet, because of love, she stays with him. I think of mean and nefarious men who hold a woman captive and force her compliance by threatening her family. Her love for her family is the means by which they control her. Men are not exempt from this cruel trick of nature. I’ve seen a man destroy his family, his career, and ultimately his life because he fell in “love” with another woman. I’ve seen the drug addicted lead many down the road to ruin by courting their love and then using them till they are reduced to only a crust of bread for dinner. I’ve seen children, holding their parents hostage by the same love shown them. When will it end? When will I see that love is evil in this way. It constrains me to act in harmful and completely unreasonable courses of action. It forces me to make choices that are in the end, all the worse things that could be done.

Here is the mistake – Love is not the holy stamp of approval on my dealings with humanity. Love does not guarantee the success or validity of a relationship. I see the reality and necessity of love, but only as a by-product of a healthy relationship, not as the final goal. The relationship should not be ruled by this love, but give birth to it, then raise it in subjection. How should I act when faced with my “love”? Love needs a system of checks and balances. A spiritual check can help control my direction, whether this is a good choice or bad. A logic check is important as well. Seriously, can my love for an abuser, child molester, or addict be expressed best by exposing myself and my family to his/her aberrations? Love will choose the death of the loved one for the best of the whole. If I am held hostage, my wife being raped, my belongings pilfered, all under the threat of killing my children, I say, “Be damned! I’ll not let them ravage my life using that lever of love. If I give in and allow the pillaging of my life, what will be left for the children, or woman, or whoever is the object used to force my compliance? What is left is a broken and shattered form, unable to provide for the family in any way. This is what is left for love when it is used to violate: brokenness, shattered dreams, and an inability to provide. Let us, my friends, be careful to not let love lead us down these treacherous paths and check ourselves lest we be found as victims of love.

Victim of love?

“…and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love’s ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.” – Stephen King, The Dark Tower

deppography

Watching Porn – An intellectual assessment of the viewing

“Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality.” – Gloria Steinem

It started when I was little, so little that my body scarcely knew what to do. Though guilt inflicted itself on me by nature and nurture, still I found solace in the pictures, a sense of peace and pleasure. The assuaging of my guilt, an advantage, as others commit that which intrigues me. The sordid interactions of the players on film and paper exempted me from the game of life. Watching removed me from the elements of rejection and worthlessness, instilling a pleasure that gave me sweet relief from the pain of this torturous childhood that cursed me.

The acts depicted were a reminder of those forced on me. By seeing those acts replayed by others, and gaining pleasure from the same, they gave me a sense of control over what had and would happen to me. Bodies flow and move and engage, bringing climax or a heightened sense of control as they guide their passions toward mysterious goals. Who can know what is in the heart of the one taking another sexually? Perverse and vile thoughts abound in that stormy atmosphere; refreshing rain on one hand, a lashing and punishing wind on the other. So I watch.

Gaining a surreptitious sense of control over things done to me by the beautiful lewdness of naked and bound play things. Of great interest to me are the abnormal psychological patterns expressed in my thoughts as I see the engagement. A baton of deviation passed on from generation to generation by not so subtle players who leaving the film of their imagination, now commit those acts on the fledgling innocents, and not so innocents, in life’s journey.

The act of sex is not so much the goal, control is. Control and power. Control over those acts which I had no choice, power over those who have hurt me, the faces of those violators superimposed on the victim in the play. So I watch and pray that I will never commit those acts that run so vividly through my mind. So I watch. Is there a choice anymore? What drug will relieve me this way? What counseling will subdue the raging fire, the misguided but ever true passion?

None ever has, nor will any ever, keep these demons at bay but one, that is my God, strong and ready to hold me by the reigns and never let me go, giving me the gift of choice. I must choose wisely, the way is costly. The power of this thing is so strong, I don’t want to admit the choice. I want to give in and never whisper a prayer for forgiveness. Prayers are hard now, harder still, the choices.

Also published in Broowaha Citizen Magazine

06192012