STRAWBERRIES FOR THE SOUL - POETRY




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This is a photo of a photo of a photo due to so much being stolen from me.
My father was in the Casa Del Sol Nursing Home in Las Cruces, NM
He was very abused there. His legs were filled with blood clots
Yet the CEO of this dump hotel was obsessed about making
my father get physical therapy and walk - to kill him!
And my brother offered to come down to help get him moved to
a reliable nursing home.  Instead my brother conspired with the
pedophile priest from Albany, NY and killed my father! 
My Note to Those who read this:  My father died a very cruel death Jan 14, 2000.  He was forced to die and it was planned by my own brother and a pedophile priest (Fr. David Bentley, who molested children for 19 years in Albany, NY and the Catholic Church transferred him WHEN about 26 of his victims filed class action lawsuit or separate lawsuits) My brother gave the priest precedence over me.  He promised to keep the priest away from my father and that he would call me if Dad stopped talking or any other changes.  My father was talking when my brother arrived at the hospital. My father was due to be discharged the next day by the doctor BECAUSE his lungs were clear. Yet my brother had my father transferred to a different floor without notifying me and had him drugged up and set him up for hospice - all behind my back when I went back to Dad's apartment just to rest and take care of my cat, which I brought with me and promised Dad I would move down there to take care of him for as long as he needed. 

I had my Persian Tabby cat Frosty for ten years.  

<INSERT 11/9/2018>
  • Published on Nov 9, 2018
    SUBSCRIBED 196K
    Israel sees that China's economic power is on the ascent while that of the United States is in decline. The parasitic philosophy of Zionism knows that its current host is going to die and is seeing new blood.
     I love Jake's reporting, he is so scholarly, but my having about 15 years on him, I tend to be much more tired of the corruption and violence coming out of Washington!  
    Look at all the mass shootings!  They make money on mass shootings - snatching and grabbing and using it for nefarious purposes such as building more Transgender clinics!  WAKE UP! 
    Sandy Hook FAKE shooting was Dec 12, 2012 (12/12/12) - Subscribe to GEMATRIA on YouTube!  GEMATRIA SHOULD BE HIRED AS A CONSULTANT BY FBI!  HE SUSPECTED THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING TERRIBLE THAT WOULD HAPPEN TODAY SINCE IT IS 11/9/2018 - A Satanic symbolic number.
    In 2013 - MANY TRANSGENDER CLINICS WERE BUILT!  And I mean MANY!  See my blogpost on Tranny Watch, the notes about the Transgendering of children, a current video I watched.  
    My comment:  USA Foreign policy sucks right now. So if China and Russia and Iran and India want to pick up the slack to promote WORLD PEACE - I am all for it. US is known for being bullies and when our great honorable statesmen like Colin Powell, Rex Tillerson, Jeff Sessions - and others - promote DIPLOMACY - they are SQUISHED. Something to consider. If they posture themselves as stronger than USA - Trump will have no standing, the military would only want to get involved if they want to commit suicide, so Trump will hit a WALL that THEY built and I say GOOD!!! 
  • We the GOOD people of United States want Peace and appose those leaders who incite war! <END OF INSERT>

  • She was poisoned and died from deliberate vet neglect -
    because they "had" to make her die
    They had to passify the scumbag politicians and dirty officials in this state and the country,

     as well as scumbag relatives
    Yet they gladly took my money right down to the $40 in saved quarters which had all been newly printed.  She was poisoned by an illegal intruder who helped himself to my property as well. And I had a mild heart attack  2001 from lead in the apartment water, deliberatly caused by aggressive 'ph' value  in the city water to make the lead soldering of the copper pipes to leach out - in a bulding owned by a group of scumbag attorneys from Fairfiled, CT - Yes, that is where Newtown is.  Fairfield used to be a great place for children to be brought up.  It has been ruined by the
    Clinton Crime Syndicate
    Which people follow by choice! 




    Two of the four ferrel cats I rescued and took care of for three years. 
    YinYang on the left and Stephanie on the right
    Stephanie was blind from being born with conjunctivitis.
    She also had a huge tapeworm, which the vet treated her for.

    My father was a police chaplain after he sold his business to a brother who cheated him out of $10,000
    That brother never made peace with my father, even though my father refused to sue his own son.
    And my other brother conspired with the pedophile priest and killed my father.
    "I came down to make Dad die"
    "This is a religious experience"
    That is what my brother said, even though he promised to help get Dad moved to a better nursing home and make sure that scumbag priest from Albany, David Bently, would not EVER be allowed to go near him.  Instead, he conspired with the scumbag who is probably a serial killer - to steal from those he kills.  Besides being a 19-year pedophile, which Bishop Accountability changed the reporting on. He had over 20 victims which brought lawsuits.  26, I think.  Yet they changed the article.  www.bishopaccountability.com or .org - look it up

    Another picture of picture of picture....Frosty was sitting on my Tandy Computer. I covered it with a blanket.
    I boxed up that computer and had it shipped by UPS to my father in New Mexico so he would have it to write his book,
    God's Cop
    Dad could not open it because he began throwing up blood.  Fr Bently made sure he wasn't going to the hospital to make sure he died.  I called him that night and my father did not tell me he was spitting up blood but I knew he was very sick.  I already knew this priest was trouble because he got my siblings to tell me I could not go down to New Mexico, especially my older sister, who obsessed I was demon possessed for many years.  And the social engineers had a hayday with manipulating her.  It was HER choice to be that way! And to run her own sick father out of town and tell me not to go down and fix what they broke, was pure evil!
    Instead of returning the computer to me FOR NOTHING, since UPS said they would have allowed them to do that, they gave MY computer to the scumbag pedophile priest and I got nothing!  I had to drive from rest stop to rest stop back home.
    My scumbag brother never gave me any compensatory work for the solid pine kitchen set I let him have many years ago.  I asked him about it and he just said, "YOU GAVE IT TO ME".  He had also claimed that I owed him for visiting me in ICU when I was nearly murdered by a 20-ton town truck.  Most likely if he had his way, I would have died, since nobody disputed the alcoholic neurologist for prematurely taking me out of ICU so they could tell the media I was no longer there. A blood clot moved to my head and I nearly died.  Fortunately the doctor on call was not the alcoholic.  They did not report in the paper that I was returned to ICU and my brother did not ask them to.  Because whatever happened to me really didn't matter.  If I died, THEY would get loads of money.

    My father was forced to die on January 14, 2000 


    My brother resented it.  My brother told me the next day that the pulmonary specialist ordered Dad to go to Hospice because his lungs were bleeding.  HE LIED TO ME!  I trusted what he said and when he was taken to hospice, he became even more evil, saying he wanted the nurse to hold him on his sides to collapse his lungs and kill him.  I called police and they laughed.  They would not come out to the hospice.  I called the minister who my father worked with at the sheriff dept. He said he would pray for him and said he hoped things worked out.  He may have suggested I call the sheriff dept.  Though my father was known by certain officers there because he was on their chaplain call list for four years - they laughed at me also and said no one was coming out.   I told the nurse to stop when he was collapsing my father's lungs and my mother did not even care.  The last thing she said to my father was "I'm getting a boyfriend" - here my father was so sick and on the phone she said that evil thing to him. He began to cry.  I helped him hang up the  phone.  My brother snuck her to New Mexico, so they could enjoy watching him die!  When my father asked for water in Hospice, my brother was agitated and did not want me to give him water.  He said, "He isn't supposed to talk!" After all, they were killing him and my father was fighting for his life and he did not like it! That brother was on three different psyche meds BY HIS OWN CHOICE.  It made me sick to find out he became a nurse later when I searched online.  His wife was already a nurse and told him how to make my father die when he flew down for 48 hours.  

    I got no justice even when I submitted a thorough complaint to the Chief Medical Examiner.  There was overwhelming circumstantial evidence.  Yet nobody cared.  After all, my brother was successful in getting Dad cremated in 24 hours and they failed to save ANY samples as they are required to do when doing a routine autopsy.  I discovered this after reading a book on Death and Dying by Dr. Siegal, which I purchased from the Jewish Communities. I recommend this book to anyone because it prepares you and you need to understand the process!  My father was seriously ill and it may be he was even poisoned by that pedophile priest, who broke into his apartment when I was at the nursing home visiting him.  The management told me they saw him in there and knocked on the door.  He then turned the lights out. Maybe he was molesting a child in there!  They did not call police because after all, he was a priest!  I am sure he is a serial killer also!


    My father wrote him a note and asked me to take it to him and not to read it. I should have photocopied it!  The note was sealed in an envelope Dad sealed.  No doubt that scumbag was the one who came into the hospital room when my father was being treated for ascites and pushed him over on the chest tube to stab his lungs. I went out to sleep in my car because the nurses would not give me a lounge to sleep in, yet they provided me one in the room the day before.  My brother and the priest intercepted.  

    Insert 1/10/2018: ( this section was changed from my original statement, I just noticed a critical part was missing ) 

    I had returned to my father's hospital room after taking a nap in my car, since they would not give me a lounger to rest in.  (No doubt because my scumbag brother was telling them not to on the phone.  Because I found out he was telling them my father had molested me.  A complete LIE.  And my father molested no one, most likely a victim of that when he was in an orphanage and/or at the abusive foster home owned by the Huck family, where he and his brothers were forced to sleep on straw under the porch and never allowed in the house.)  It was then someone - I am sure the scumbag pedophile priest - pushed my father to the side to hopefully puncture his lungs with the chest tube.  My father was in extreme pain.  No one was checking on him, though I told the staff I was going to take a nap in my car.  I ran to the nurse's station and said to hurry because my father was pushed over and more than one person was needed to stabilize him.  She said, "They are all in a meeting. You have to wait."  I said, "If you don't get nurses over there I will call 911!!!"  So they went over and badmouthed my father about why did you do a thing like that - which he did not do.  Someone else did.  Yet at least my father was stabilized and the pulmonary doctor was notified.  I also called the doctor.  I also REGRETTABLY called my sibling, my brother, crying that someone was trying to kill my father.  My brother said he would fly down and help get my father into a safer facility, since the chest tube was probably ready to be taken out and he could be discharged.  
      
    My statement keeps changing here, so keep that in mind when you read this (1/14/2018) - it is not me, it is a hacker - attempting to frame me as a nutjob.  I am saving this and printing it for my records at this point. 

    My brother arrived the next day, demanding I pick him up at the airport over an hour's drive away.  I said no.  My father was not safe.  I did not want that evil priest going there when I wasn't in his room.  A nice and helpful nurse brought in a lounge chair for me.  Other nurses told me to sleep in the other hospital bed which was empty. I refused.  I said, "I am not a patient here - why would I do that?"  The chest tube was ready to be taken out.  Yet that night my brother had my father moved to a different floor after he had x-rays and my brother drugged him up so he could no longer speak.

    The following morning I called very early, around 6 am, asking how my father was.  I was transferred to my father's room and my brother answered and said everything was okay, and only said he had my father moved because my brother did not like the treatment on the other floor.  

    I believe my brother  resented my staying in a lounger the prior night, that is why!

    I decided to go to the hospital right away because I did not feel comfortable with the fact my father was moved and NOBODY TOLD ME, even though I asked my brother to call me if there were any changes.  He told me that my father's lungs were bleeding and the doctor ordered him to go to hospice when I got to his room.  I was shocked.  Yet I believed my brother. 

    The doctor did not get me aside and speak to me because he thought my brother had told me the truth - and he thought I was in agreement.  My brother had already arranged for my father to die and my mother was there ready to go along with everything - so this was obviously premeditated.  This was beyond evil, because a staff member told me later when I left New Mexico that my brother was telling them all that my father molested me, as a means of control. 

    He got the scumbag priest to come to the hospital room that day and he actually shocked me by quickly walking up to me and kissing me on the mouth. I would have slapped him across the face if it wasn't for the fact my father needed to stay calm.  

    My father was rolling his eyes like he was trying to talk and I was confused.  My brother turned out to be the Satanic enemy - someone who disgraced my father, deceived me, and turned my whole childhood into a nightmare that will not go away.  My father was talking all the time before this, even when he pushed on his side.  My brother was supposed to come down to help me find a better nursing facility because they were horribly abusing him and he had terrible marks - large bruises - from the abuse.  Yet nobody cared.  Nobody wanted to do anything but cover it all up!  What better way to cover it up than to kill him!  


    I am not surprised when I hear of more murders of people who are willing to testify against the Clinton Crime Syndicate or the Americans who planned September 11 (besides Hillary Clinton and John McCain - Search Field McConnell AV 7 and watch that video) but when a brother even tells me later, "I came down to make Dad die" and that it was a spiritual experience, etc. - how can you even process that?  the nurse did what my brother said he wanted him to do, to make sure my father would never be able to talk and die faster.  He collapsed my father's lungs right in front of me and the staff as well as my own mother threatened that they would have security throw me out if I did not shut up. I kept telling the nurse he was harming my father and to stop. My father cried out in such pain!  And nobody there cared.  They were getting rid of an inconvenience.  They already intercepted my unemployment to make me not able to stay there and help my father.  The Chief Medical Examiner refused to investigate and refused to turn over my information to any other authority, like FBI.  Local police laughed at me when I called them from the hospice as the nurse was crushing my father's lungs.  I did call them from another area yet they would not get involved just because it was a murder.  Because they said it was a hospice - and people die in hospices. Well, NOT ALWAYS because I know of circumstances when people are sent to a hospice to die and they are discharged! 

    My brother should be arrested and put in prison for life what he did and the priest should be sentenced to death for being a serial killer! Killing your own father who loved you your whole life is beyond comprehension! 

    I created a book as a project to heal - yet one never really heals from having their parent murdered - by a sibling and a priest, of all people! 

    My copies are all missing. I hope that my poetry was retained in electronic files I can retrieve. 

                                                       -----------------------------

    I have several poems and will add more as I am able.  

    3/30/2018 

    I have added more, but have more.  Yet hundreds of poems  have been stolen from me in this state.   











    The Strawberry

    is the star of berries.


    Giving delight to the eye

    Relishing flavor to the tongue

    Sending its scent into the sky

    Feeling the wholeness of cluster

    I hear the pangs of my stomach long

    for these clusters.


    This healing herbal delight

    Fights ailments of the stomach,

    menstrual cramps, mouth ulcers, soar throats,

    and breaks fevers when one is sick.


    Each strawberry

    is made up

    of several seeds -

    Each important

    as it feeds and grows

    to one day let go

    of each seed


    Into Nature

    which absorbs

    Each feature

    As a treasure

    From God.


    Its companion, The Borage,

    Protects the berry

    So it can thrive,

    Forming a pact for life,

    as the hidden strawberry

    Grows its entourage.


    They are sown so close, keeping

    insects and disease from

    its fruit, its roots, its leaves

    And one can boast

    of the reapings.


    Staying close to the ground

    they sprout out, trailing

    from the main Crown of the plant.

    The Nodes form new plants

    As they have found

    more room to produce.


    “This produce is God's prize to us in life”,

    as Dad would say,

    being his favorite fruit.

    Dad picked it with good cause

    giving credit to its Root.

    And we can be like strawberries

    For they symbolize what

    is True from Above -

    Connecting with others' needs,

    sharing our seeds of good deeds,

    As we embrace life with Love.




    FOLLOW YOUR BLISS
    Following can mean being attentive
    Happiness is your incentive
    When you follow your Bliss
    Not missing
    the sun -
    Not missing
    the feel of the breeze
    blissfully believing to exist is to Bliss.
    Hearing one's heart as a drum beat repeating
    reminding one that energy comes from Bliss
    Resting - blissfully bridles -
    Building the bridge we all need to balance
    for Life is not chance; it is choice
    Our voice is truly heard without sound
    Which has the power to invade, detract,
    cause one to act -
    It is in action as we figure each day
    Making our way,
    Taking in ONLY what is blissful
    Eliminating toxins - we win
    What is - which is Freedom
    Some absorb, some repel -
    all to try to feel well
    when their focus should be on Bliss.
    Their focus should be on flowers - blending
    Their focus should be on harmony - mending
    Humanity - Every Tree
    is comprised of many components, each
    playing their own role as a sum of the whole
    Yet at times as one wholly fixed
    on connecting - correcting - communicating
    cascading to all parts. The electricity
    is an Electric Tree. To Be
    is a present, an opportunity to express
    What is best for us, what brings Yin and Yang
    all hanging on us - choices - voices
    Being true
    When we keep our eyes
    on the Blue
    Sky.
    Why imposters can be a blip -
    or even worse, a blitz -
    campaigning bombs of destruction
    uprooting only shooting pain
    with material-motives to gain
    which never last. Their eyes dry up
    when they absorb without processing
    When they repel just because they can
    We can't make when we take
    Our egos balloon.
    "Prioritree" - eventually
    dies - and cries alone.
    We turned our curiosity into atrocity WHEN
    Like water - when we lost in a droubt:
    Like air - that only breaths in doubt;
    In a crowd - when we lose our about -
    After breathing it right
    When we are born
    We should not be torn -
    to tear down - if we've found
    This blue, blissful ground to build
    Our World - to believe in Hope and Happiness
    Which is next to Bliss.




    The Rise Of Fall




    Breath in the cool, fresh air


    As the wind sings through trees.


    Look up at the blue sky


    As your eye views Fall Blue.


    For you are a part of Fall,


    Partaking and making its rise


    As you disguise yourself into it.


    It changes you to a new person.


    Days of sun express the best colors,


    The blurs of yesterday’s time


    Chime to announce change


    -as your eyes meet Fall


    -as you rise with Fall.
    ********






    This Tribute

    Goes to Whom The Bell Tolls and

    To Whomever tolls Musical Bells

    Which ring quietly – pleasing

    And providing prevention

    Monarchs

    Willing to migrate

    Anywhere – they care

    To Flourish and Flower

    For Nourishment

    In exchange with flowers

    Nectar

    Needed and spread

    Wings spread

    Open-welcoming

    Serenely serving

    Curving their path

    After having attached

    To a simple twig

    To shed and become

    Chrysalis

    Chrysanthemums

    May bee the ones

    Which perpetuate

    The butterflies mate

    And migrate

    In life – giving life

    Relying on offspring

    To finish what was started

    Even when broken-hearted

    Continuing their paths

    Paving new trails

    Following where the female

    The mum

    Flew

    Knowing their clusters

    Could not bee

    Could not enjoy the tree

    Had it not been for the trail

    Of mum

    Protected when Viceroys

    Governed and gave

    Clearance from predators

    So they can pollinate

    And continue to migrate

    Making the trail they travel

    Flourish – blossom more

    To become a Better World

                                                        Than before.    
















    Today


    Outside my window,


    A new day I see


    And only I can determine


    What kind of day it will be.


    It can be busy and sunny, laughing and gay,


    Or boring and cold, unhappy and gray,


    My own state of mind is the determining key,


    For I am the only person I Let myself be.


    I can be thoughtful and do all I can to help,


    Or be selfish and think of just myself.


    I can enjoy what I do and make it seem fun,


    Or gripe and complaining and make it hard on someone.


    I can be patient with those who may not understand,


    Or belittle and hurt them as much as I can.


    But I have faith in myself,


    And believe what I say,


    And personally intend to make


    The best of each day.


    Author unknown
            






    The Explosion Creates



    An explosion in Society

    -in our hearts – souls – minds.



    Better than a renaissance, I say

    Erupting from the walls of souls

    Crying, saying goodbye but not wanting

    To go – so they stay

    Creating miracle and magical

    Days as they gaze on us and

    Fill us with their thoughts and love

    -all above-comforting, communicating

    In our hearts who respond

    To despair – their souls stay

    And say all will be alright

    For our fight will forever end

    Only what deviates – who creates

    Unreality – creatively, excitingly appeals

    To what they feel – transforming

    Wrong to right by showing might

    Yet their Face of Terror falls and crawls

    Into cracks, crevices, crisping as

    Criminals – crumbling, cringing, crossing

    Everything that colors – that shines

    And I hope they end
    As they find an end
    To Their Evil – at THEIR OWN HANDS
    Through the hearts of their people
    Who eliminate – execute – realize
    Their lives into true beauty
    Taking their plane cremations –
    Making creations
    Of Duty.
    ----anne marie bradley----written in 2000

    His  Little  daughter was hurt.
    And he wanted to protect her.

    Holding her in his arms
    Thinking it is too late to heal
    Feeling her pain and sorrow
    Knowing her tomorrow
    Will not be as he wanted
    With Joy, Peace, Contentment.

    His resentment
    Towards the one
    Who hurt her so
    Goes deep
    And disturbing
    For he was also
    One of his own.

    His own?
    “Why?”
    he says
    for as
    a father
    he wants
    to fix
    her pain -
    his pain
    that is,
    if he
    had any.

    So many
    Blamed Dad
    And gradually

    Dad believed.
    Yes,
    Believed he truly
    Caused this.

    Yet, I say “NO!”
    How could Dad go
    Caress his little girl
    And cry deeply
    From his soul –

    Feeling his whole
    Life was destroyed –

    His sense of worth –
    Was diminished;

    “It is finished”,
    so he thought,

    for all this time
    he fought
    for right
    yet right
    under his finger
    he finds his baby,
    our baby, for she
    was the baby
    of the family—

    Fallen
    As a fawn
    Shot down
    When no one else
    Was around –


    When Dad,
    Rest assured
    All his children
    Were secured
    Like he never
    Was when
    He was a child.

    He, being he who hurt,
    Was more than wild
    For he didn’t
    Listen to him
    Naturally,
    For naturally
    We are good-
    Unnaturally
    We can be evil
    Learning how
    Like school –
    He fooled
    Himself most
    With his lies;

    And he’ll
    Never
    Look in
                 Dad’s  Eyes.         
            Annie
                5-4-00


    Who’d Know, Dad?

    I shivered at the rest stops –
    Thinking of you
    Wishing you
    Hadn’t been forced to die.

    I cried and cried
    In my car
    With my cat
    Not caring where we were at.
    Just far from home,
    I thought:
    Then thought again
    For I wanted to stay
    With you
    For, I needed you
    So much more
    Than you needed me,
    Really.
    You’d give me
    The home I didn’t have,
    Dad.

    And I froze,
    Turning my heat on
    Now and then

    Sleeping and waking

    Again and again
    With no friend
    To be my friend.

    Life stopped for me,
    Dad.
    I was numb inside
    Anyway,
    So it was okay
    I froze – for
    It spoke Truth.

    Tough as it may seem
    I know my screams
    In my sleep
    Were heard by you
    Were felt by you
    For I screamed for you,

    Who
    Was taken from me.

    We
    Will meet again, Dad,
    You holding my hand,
    And
    Reassuring me
    You never left.
                            Annie


    Look Into My Father’s Eyes
    By: Eric Clapman


    Late at night
    Behind the sun
    Waiting for the
    Prince to come
    Praying for
    The healing rain
    To restore my
    Soul again.

    Just a boat ride
    Off Double Run
    How did I get here?
    What have I done?
    When will all my
    Hopes arise
    How will I know when-
    When I look in my Father’s Eyes.

    Dim Light –
    The kids to shine
    I hear those ancient
    Lullabies.
    In his eyes watch
    The seedlings grow
    Feel my heart
    Start to overflow.

     Where do I find
    The words to say
    How do I teach him?
    What do we pray?
    Bit by bit
    I realize
    That’s when I need
    When I need
    My father’s eyes.

    In the jagged
    Edge of this
    Through the distance -
    House of kids
    Sounds like a bridge
    That was washed
    Away –
    My foundation
    Was made to pray.

    As my soul
    Cries down to die
    How could I lose him?
    What did I try?
    Bit by bit
    I realize
    He would be with me
    When I look into my Father’s Eyes.

    [ [



    On Deception

           We live
                               in a very
                        deceptive  world
                    and  we always have
                      to  be aware of it.
                         Otherwise,  we
                             Are fools.

    You have to read between the lines
    You have to look behind
    The Truth.
    Your eyes deceive you –
    You can’t really see through
    Anything – for all things
    Deceive.
    You can’t believe
    Anything.
    I found this out last night
    When the driver’s tail light
    Broke – nope, it was the cover
    For under the cover was white –
    A white light, not red,
    As I always said it was –
    It wasn’t – It was fake.
    Yes, fake, for God’s sake!

    Not real.
    I feel

    Freedom is frivolous
    Unless you can see
    The White Light
    Behind the red plastic lining.
                                           Annie
                                              3/21/00

                      
                      We live
                               in a very
                        deceptive  world
                    and  we always have
                      to  be aware of it.
                         Otherwise,  we
                             Are fools.

    You have to read between the lines
    You have to look behind
    The Truth.
    Your eyes deceive you –
    You can’t really see through
    Anything – for all things
    Deceive.
    You can’t believe
    Anything.
    I found this out last night
    When the driver’s tail light
    Broke – nope, it was the cover
    For under the cover was white –
    A white light, not red,
    As I always said it was –
    It wasn’t – It was fake.
    Yes, fake, for God’s sake!
    Not real.
    I feel

    Freedom is frivolous
    Unless you can see
    The White Light
                                                                  Behind the red plastic lining.                                                                
                                             Annie
                                             3/21/00

    Loving Like A Rock


    Oh what a love –
    To love like a rock
    For rocks are products of who we are.

    And so
    Should love be,
    Really.

    Breaking down –
    Separating – metamorphosing
    Limestone or dolostone into marble,
    Sandstone into slate, schist or gneiss,
    Basalt into amphibolite.

    The process is everchanging.
    Weathering, rearranging
    Over time
    They form
    Holding onto
    Their history
    Carrying a beauty
    As structures shape
    Among their surroundings

    Finding, collecting

    What is near

    To make them
    Stronger

    For the longer
    They are around
    They continue
    To collect

    And forget
    What they had been
    Forging ahead
    To become better

    Blending and
    Sometimes fragmenting

    These fragments
    Find places of their own
    As they

    Combine
    Theirs with others
    And define
    Their freedom
    To express –
    To illuminate –
    To color

    Yet always
    Telling a story
    As they change.

    Combine
    Theirs with others
    And define
    Their freedom
    To express –
    To illuminate –
    To color

    Yet always
    Telling a story
    As they change.

    We see
    Rocks
    Yet love
    We cannot.

    God gave
    These rocks
    To us
    To teach
    About love –
    About Life,
    Really.


    And
    As our hands
    Hold a rock


    Observing its
    Features
    Which tell all
    Openly
    These teachers,
    God’s teachers,

    Are not just Rock;
    For they Root
    The love
    Which has come
    From Above.

    Annie
    2-20-00

    FOLLOW YOUR BLISS

    Following can mean being attentive
    Happiness is your incentive
    When you follow your Bliss
    Not missing
    the sun -
    Not missing
    the feel of the breeze
    blissfully believing to exist is to Bliss.
    Hearing one's heart as a drum beat repeating
    reminding one that energy comes from Bliss
    Resting - blissfully bridles -
    Building the bridge we all need to balance
    for Life is not chance; it is choice
    Our voice is truly heard without sound
    Which has the power to invade, detract,
    cause one to act -
    It is in action as we figure each day
    Making our way,
    Taking in ONLY what is blissful
    Eliminating toxins - we win
    What is - which is Freedom
    Some absorb, some repel -
    all to try to feel well
    when their focus should be on Bliss.
    Their focus should be on flowers - blending
    Their focus should be on harmony - mending
    Humanity - Every Tree
    is comprised of many components, each
    playing their own role as a sum of the whole
    Yet at times as one wholly fixed
    on connecting - correcting - communicating
    cascading to all parts. The electricity
    is an Electric Tree. To Be
    is a present, an opportunity to express
    What is best for us, what brings Yin and Yang
    all hanging on us - choices - voices
    Being true
    When we keep our eyes
    on the Blue
    Sky.
    Why imposters can be a blip -
    or even worse, a blitz -
    campaigning bombs of destruction
    uprooting only shooting pain
    with material-motives to gain
    which never last. Their eyes dry up
    when they absorb without processing
    When they repel just because they can
    We can't make when we take
    Our egos balloon.
    "Prioritree" - eventually
    dies - and cries alone.
    We turned our curiosity into atrocity WHEN
    Like water - when we lost in a droubt:
    Like air - that only breaths in doubt;
    In a crowd - when we lose our about -

    After breathing it right
    When we are born
    We should not be torn -
    to tear down - if we've found
    This blue, blissful ground to build
    Our World - to believe in Hope and Happiness
    Which is next to Bliss.

    On Restoration

    Things aren’t always better as they were before
    Our Past lights our way, so we must restore.

    I see things so differently as I get older.
    I want to take the colder memories
    And make clear sense of what seems senseless
    And, unless those like I can go on
    We cannot continue to run
    Our Race
    Or Face
    Life as more than reality
    Seeing sensiblility
    To our tries, our dreams,
    Our cries – even screams
    For we will see our roots through restoration.

    -Our hearts in our imagination
    -Our knowledge from our contemplation
    -Our passions in our fascination.

    Little Grasshopper

    I say, you little Grasshopper,
    Don’t you worry.

    Every day we hustle and worry
    not appreciating each other,
    trying each other by jury,
    deciding which faults are a bother.

    But you, little Grasshopper,
    You spring into the day
    as if everything could be okay
    As long as I do, too,
    for you enjoy
    working in numbers.

    No one slumbers.
    Every one works –
    for we enjoy
    working.


    The Library

    The library will always be
    Our home to insight
    Which shines who we are

    Supporting freedom and
    The right to learn.

    It is a comfort to go here
    For one is accepted immediately
    And guided by the librarian
    With their grace in intelligence.

    Exploring in tbe library is
    Matrimonious with absorbing
    The mastery of those there
    And maneuvers us to the right path.
    Their patronage encourages –
    Their perception discourages
    One from giving up.

    Their resources seem endless
    Every visit brings novel –
    Not just in the novel read,
    But in one’s intellect.

    The library supports all
    And brings diversity
    Which fuels our prosperity.

    My gratitude is ceaseless
    Knowing I’ll never be amiss

    If I depend
    On the library’s existence.

        ---------

    Coat of Arms

    The coat of Arms
    - adorns those passed
    - answers questions asked
    about who they are.

    This design  is unique
    to families of said
    Though that person’s dead
    They live on in life
    For their great thoughts
    were implanted -
    All in this unique art
    of their arms
    Which were what
    made them succeed,
    survive, sustain,
    over and over again.

    And I suggest
    You make your own Coat
    if one doesn’t already exist.
    Add everything that just
    represents your family
    as a present to your family.

    Make your Coat
    And take your
    Coat with you
    as a patch
    of peace
    in remembrance of
    your loved one.

    Your loved one
    Will remain with you
    And sustain who
    You are
    Knowing your love lives on
    And life lives on
    And so does theirs

    As a star.


    Poem by Anne Bradley
    They Didn’t Win
    Those who tread on us will most likely do it again
    But they didn’t win

    This world is on loan from God – that’s why
    and when we see our brother cry
    from pain or sorrow – we should help their Tomorrow
    be brighter and better – we should Love

    Love can be good or evil, depending on the Wolf.
    Feed the Good Wolf always and all ways
    the jealousy which abounds is found
    to help – not harm – to set a seal on your arm

    You will feel the calm; not storm
    You will feel the warm comfort
    Not the hurt by lovers
    who feed the Bad Wolf – they will never Win

    Love is what fills the cracks; love attacks
    what is wrong like controlled fire, its flame
    takes claim to deceit, its Kindle
    will dwindle problems with solutions

    Love is not the pollution – nor will it tolerate
    Pollution – love omits confusion
    through checks and balances and obligation
    Our mythical facinations omitted by real Love.

    They didn’t win – when our lives battle the
    Trickery – like a hickory tree ignited with lava
    Controlled love gently helps in moulding
    Love empowers us to Stop The Wicked from holding the Bad Wolf.

    Satanic Cults, Deceitful Cultures,
    Secret Societies, and lies love Lucifer
    Because they are not controlled – they
    Fission, they fester, they shake and make a Maze

    Love is simple, not a maze, it is fueled
    by God’s Word, which we have heard
    growing up and living up to morals
    which society constructed as Standards.

    Yes, we Stand. We Stand for each other
    When we see their need and feed it
    as a Good Wolf, and starve the bad one.
    It’s no fun to hate, to deceive. It’s not genuine!

    It’s not a diamond but a Fake
    And will keep taking if the Bad Wolf is fed
    Love builds when it’s controlled
    with God’s help. Yet the World is in ruins if the Bad Wolf is fed

    Our Federation was founded by fathers who
    Loved morals – not tricks
    Yet the bad wolves have been growing
    by deceiving and showing a fake allegiance!

    These Bad Wolves didn’t win!
    If we can determine and call for God's Wrath,
    We then can take a new Course, have a new Course.
    Justice is what elects the right path –

    It’s pathetic when we close our eyes to this
    and allow the lovers of Corruption to grow!
    and we wonder what caused the Volcano
    to erupt, the microwaves to obstruct, the earth to be disturbed.

    They didn’t win because “We See” inspite of Deceit.
    We complete the earthquake Equasion of Ruination
    by solutions – expose confusion – and
    Real Eyes – realize we can’t engulf (or wolf-down) - sumination

    Our emancipation needs moral love from above
    For the Luciferians destroy people like toys
    They didn’t win, because we are standing
    and taking Command of our ships!

    The evil storms shipped by evil geo-engineers
    Have not used their eyes to see or ears to hear
    Justice detaches from this evil and is applied like a Blanket
    of fairness, impartiality, detachment, fair-mindedness

    And once this mess faces Justice
    The Controlled lava of Love which erupts
    will feed not the Wolf that corrupts
    but the one which gives heed, loves what is Good.

    They didn’t win and never can!
    Their love for studying war
    Will collapse on their laps!
    Time may lapse and they will keep trying
    To terrorize, yet our eyes are on the prize!
    As we take the Stand and let them implode on themselves!

    As our heels take the Bold Stand
    And our hands reach out as God’s Hands
    Are our moral commands – our fire
    Which makes us tirelessly tarry
    For that which helps Mankind,
    Rather than destroys minds and lives.

    Love controlled this way calms
    The Evil Wind that tries to attain
    By taking instead of making
    The sun comes out again – because they didn’t Win!



    He who is transplanted, sustains

    He who is transplanted
    Sustains freedom
    Which comes from
    His enduring,
    His ensuring,
    His encouraging
    To confirm his
    Homeland.

    His hand tells
    Us his heart

    Which is a part
    Of who he is
    For he is doing.

    Contributing to
    Our homeland
    With his skills
    And he wills
    For himself –
    For ourselves
    Prosperity, unity,
    Generosity
    As we, too

    Extend and brace
    That which is ours
    By the grace
    Of God.

    Leaving and coming,
    He brings with him
    Experiences as
    Bearer of  fruit
    From trial and error
    He comes
    With hope
    To cope
    And give;
    To live
    In his new home
    With an ocean
    White with foam.

    And he lifts

    His head to forge
    And surge for
    Sustanence
    To survive
    And support
    Each life’s worth
    As gold –
    As any
    Precious
    Metal
    As he settles
    What is now
    And to be
    Home of the free.

    Industry fills the hives
    And enjoys the honey

    Industry filled the hives
    And our lives are
    Graced with honey.
    We now take this money
    To make today
    What it is
    And will be.
    Our city
    Used to be
    Hardware Capital
    Of the world
    But fate hurled change.
    No place is this now
    As rearranging business
    Had stressed how
    Our world’s economics
    Advanced beyond
    Yet the bee goes on
    And imitates
    Our many ways
    Mixing, molding
    Folding our lives
    Into eachother
    As neighbors
    Caring for each to bee
    Creating one honey
    Unique to our society.

    We work toward goals

    And share our souls
    To bring solutions-
    Creating fruitions
    For us all.
    It is what we are called
    To do as beings.
    New Britain
    Became
    Because
    Of those
    Who came
    And gave
    Of themselves.
    Today we savor
    Our past as
    We move to
    Our present
    Enjoying
    Accomplishments
    In history,
    A true mystery
    Of omniscience
    Since
    Those who paved
    Permanent change
    Paved so with
    Courage – facing fear
    In war – defense
    Keeping freedom
    Our permanent allegiance –
    New Britain extends
    Its existence today

    Reaching out for
    Development –
    Improvement –
    A locomotion
    Of motion moving
    Toward goals
    That work today.

    Our city radiates
    From past fulfillments
    Knowing we are meant
    To go on shining

    With our history lining
    Our values, our ambitions,
    Our illuminating dictions,

    Unifying our crowd
    To make one city proud.

    The Jewish People

    Carry faith in their hearts
    With great wisdom
    From their great past
    They bring and reach
    Embracing what is now.

    Just how they do it,
    I don’t know.
    Their growth shows
    A deep love for the world
    As all belonging to God.

    They began with 12 tribes
    Of Abraham
    Imparting their heritage
    As heroes forging in time
    Sustaining who they are
    Every time they are attacked.

    They seek to give back
    To God, even heartbroken
    From turmoil, civil turbulence
    Every chance they get.

    For the Jews are
    A people of peace
    Striving for prosperity
    To all underprivileged
    As a privilege to God.

    Steadfast they are
    Immanent their domain.
    Immersed in life.
    Immaculate in birth.

    Surely we see
    Our fellow Jews
    As a special people
    Implementing answers
    To questions
    To improve our
    World’s view.

    Known for their prudence
    In every sense
    They cherish each wish,
    Aspiration, longing,
    Perspicacity
    Using every capacity
    They have
    To generate
    Goodness
    Through their
    Industrious
    Spirits.

                                                          The Postal Clerk

    My eyes half-closed, I get closer
    to the door of the Post Office.
    It is such a routine, like
    I know I can expect perfection –
    I want this-this way and that-that
    And I’ll say this and they do just that.
    It’s a ballet  of work –
    They perk, aware of all
    taking small requests to heart.
    Each part of their day includes
    checking – over and over – making
    their service surpass – fly
    as the eagle who soars for
    freedom – they come to us
    to support ours – in communication.
    My contemplation of this only covers
    whatever I know, not much, but a touch
    Of what they do – and they do
    their job following rules, processes –
    taking messes of mail making
    it deliverable efficiently – safely;
    yes, safely for us – as we know
    it can be dangerous – as we know
    it is for them as well as us
    for all mail is not safe
    -bombs, chemicals can be enclosed
    and they have to know what to do.
    We think, maybe, their job is easy
    even when they ballet their work.
    We’d be wrong in that case
    for they face the troubles and trials


    of all facets of the right way
    in processing, preparing, sharing and safety
    and we are lucky to have this system
    that works in unity – as one entity;
    which includes our dedicated workers
    who give of themselves to make things sail;
    who give of themselves to move the mail.


    They walked through a storm
    One never fought before.
    More people died, crying,
    Trying to stay alive –
    Trying to just survive.

    This storm happened
    Which must accept
    And embrace those who wept
    And swept up the remains
    And seek to find reason.
    Yet we must see it as a season
    for it just happened
    And it is now a part
    of our hearts, our souls,
    And out of this will blossom
    our strength for justice – for peace
    as we see every single piece
    of what was – is no more.

    For all of us we trust
    in unity, in dignity, and deny
    all evil, all lies, all takes.
    We indeed can make
    our lives sustaining
    no matter how transplanted we feel.
    Each real piece of ourselves
    is still out there and can be seen
    and can be felt, and can be heard.

    Our words reach
    As we teach
    As we learn

    As we discern
    wrong from right.
    We must fight this war
    And let us go on
    depending on
    what is right and just.

    Slipping into despair,
    you may lose your care
    you may not share
    what has been taken –
    what has shaken
    you.

    You
    must see that we
    belong together as a community
    and know your hurt as reality.

    So – go – don’t stop.
    Or stay –
    Whatever makes you okay.
    But keep doing
    Using what God gave you;
    for if you stay true
    to who you are
    you are and always
    will be on top.

    Dr. Mel
    Dr. Mel Goldstein, RIP

    How To Weather The Storm

    He’s a weatherman –
    Treasured
    First by Arlene
    And then by Brenda
    And relatives also show –
    And then by friends;
    And then by friends
    He doesn’t know.

    He keeps going
    And showing us storms
    When they come through.
    I never knew his
    Own storm continues.

    He’s a man who only
    Knows how to reach
    Not keeping but giving
    Gracefully focusing on living –
    His spirit so strong
    And steadfast – he’ll outlast
    Us all if God measures our lives
    Us by present and past.

    I called the State Police
    One day, worried about
    The weather and how
    The roads would turn out.
    He immediately said

    So enthusiastically,
    Don’t you listen to
    Dr. Mel – he
    Tells you what you need to see.

    So, what do I know;
    I know, not much.
    I promised myself
    I’d stay in touch.

    But most of all,
    I’m truly grateful
    For what you teach
    About life – for life
    Can be so hard to reach.

    I thank you, Dr. Mel,
    My weatherfriend.
    And I pray
    Future fractures will
    Instead be just bends.

    And I pray your heart
    Keeps it rhythm
    And I see the crew
    Will carry their torch for you,
    always, with them.

    As Ann Nyberg said,
    She loves you and your smiling,
    And I’m glad your mail
    Keeps on piling.

    The sunflower gives hope
    For it picks up rays first
    and then reports to the crop
    after it quenches its thirst.

    Yes, you are our sunflower, no doubt.
    You know everything, just about.
    And I thank you for your reports
    I know your wisdom comes from the right force.

    I know your heart always carries a song:
    “It’s better to live life as an optimist and be wrong
    than as a pessimist and be right.”

    May we help you stay strong in your graceful fight.

    Firefighters in Action

    Together is the only way,
    Weathering each fire.
    They take away
    The unknown – knowing
    Through strength, each length
    They conquer is one less
    Going on for more.
    War, it is,
    Yet this is
    Simply wrong.
    Being strong and
    Carrying on their business
    Is what carries them through.

    Each hand holds
    In a congruency,
    Fluently they put it out.
    Each foot is placed,
    Covering each trace
    Of their tracks.
    No one looks back,
    Only forward, toward the blaze
    -to fight this unknown craze.
    They use best guesses,
    Yet these messes have a mind
    Of their own and they have shown
    Their control of destruction,
    Which sometimes includes loss of health,
    Even loss of life – loss of wealth.
    Such anguish, lamentation
    Yet their meditations make
    Their investigations take turns
    Toward better tomorrows.

    We may have lost,
    But we’ve gained more
    For each fire battle

    Is truly fought for
    Peach and Prevention.
    Their immovable intention
    Is to break down
    Barriers they tread
    Instead of acceleration.
    Their fascination
    is in solutions.

    We salute all of you
    Who died for this cause,
    Braving each call,
    Your bravery lives on in those
    Who are still here, facing fear
    With your spirit in it.

    In each ember
    We remember
    You.

    Dale Chihuli

    He’s brought art out
    in his glass-sculpting,
    catapulting our imaginations,
    filling our sensations
    with color known by no other
    but Nature herself.

    His art is personal,
    Portraying his excitement for life,
    Almost losing his once.
    His pondering brought on a ponderous,
    Illustrious work with his team.
    It seems he makes color dance,
    Dazzling your eye, you can’t
    Forget how you fealt
    In its presence, so profound.

    I found his glasswork describing
    and reflecting and even saying
    what it is in the heart of the artist.
    The light kisses his work
    each time, looking distinct.
    The memory sinks in your soul,
    and you carry this feeling of wholeness.
    It is peace – beauty – a call to duty,
    allegiance, obligation, province.  It is Providence
    since the colors combine with luster.

    Each glass cluster

    Was sculpted as one.
    And they combine; they bring on
    Performance – an orchestration,
    an illustration of comprehension

    which words cannot express
    (what you are sensing)
    as capricious as it is,

    It is radiance – dancing.

    Linda McCartney

    “Behind The Lense”


    Some of Linda’s works:  Janis Joplin, Rolling Stones, The Doors, BB King, The Beatles (she met them at a Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band concert; married Paul in 1969); “Waiting Hungry”(1993), “Uplift” (1993), “Hell’s Kitchen” (New York City, 1990), “Put It There”(1975), “Glance, Protugal”(1967), “Mourning, Portugal”(1969), “Wide UB”(1991).  They had been on display at the New Britain Museum of Art in New Britain, CT.

    Behind the lense
    were two eyes who
    saw the world as One.

    She visioned all as same.
    Fame only meant more work
    to her; though work was her signature.

    Linda McCartney – who blossomed with Paul;
    All she was – was shared with those familiar
    with her heart.  She lived as a part
    of the world, majestically photographing
    the complex – extracting the simple
    showing us when all’s said and done;
    When the bare-nakedness is shown;
    We are each other’s own – part of One.

    She uplifted our spirits, uplifting with Hope
    She tied the knot and held onto her rope.

    I sorely miss her now that I’ve seen
    Her works, her life, and what she’s been.
    I can only grasp her outstretching, forgetting
    About fear – feeling her mystery of photography.

    The Hero


    A hero is measured by

    Facing fear for right.

    Those who might feel
    They did not win
    for again and again
    No one saw results.
    Their works were
    Were not in vain,
    For there were results!
    For you were there!
    You stood by actively using
    Your talents that went noticed.
    You focused on right with support.
    Every effort was a shear display
    Of loyalty, disregarding your self’s
    Outward needs for those beliefs within.

    And you do win by not giving in!
    Yes, a hero is one who dares to dispense
    Which breaks down the fence of evil
    Reducing the distance between right and wrong.
    It’s not how strong or long your ammo lasts,
    Or how many blasts you created –
    A hero is simply one who is there,
    Facing fear with whatever they can do.

    Thinking not of themselves, but simply of
    “You”.


    Don’t feel like you have to please everyone to keep your ill loved one comfortable.  It may backfire, for people can try to control you – even lie to you.  Focus on the one suffering and what they want.

    Sick people lose their emotional defenses and must be all the more protected being with those who will support, not destroy.

    If you haven’t already done so, begin a book to the loved one you lost – write to them in it.  What you share is between you and them.  Tell them of your sorrows, your aspirations, your sweet memories.  If you can’t write, talk in a tape and save the recorded messages.

    Get help with this – from a social worker, friend, or other resource, if need be.  Knowledge is power.  Use that power.  Don’t let anyone take that from you.  I say this from experience and understanding that, particularly if you are alone with this, it is easy to emotionally give in to others who you even know are wrong.  It is easy to trust them despite your concerns, for you may want their support.  But you must be strong.  Follow your concerns.  Speak to others who will give you advice – even off the record before acting.  Even your sharing helps you think things through.  If you belong to a church you feel safe and secure in, connect with your church.

    The Agent Who’s Special
    As I nestle in my comfortable home
    My comfortable bed
    I know the agent who’s special
    The Agent Who’s Special
    As I nestle in my comfortable home
    My comfortable bed
    I know the agent who’s special


    Poem by my friend Debbie on Facebook

    _6Apr2013I love how your fingers dance across your piano
    like the rain falling from the sky
    the power of God flows through you
    like a lions roar
    your eyes shine like the sun
    with joy as you play and sing to God
    And utter words straight from the Lord's mouth
    Hannah, Miranda, Charlie, Sunil and the rest of your team are in total unity
    Hannah is an angel and her voice is sweet as pure honey
    Sunil sounds the alarm call with his drum playing
    Kim to me you are hunky
    your piano playing is so funky
    you bring to me laughter and joy
    written in honour of prophet Kim Clement and team
    Kim
    Kim, Kim, wonderful Kim
    Yahweh's mighty mouth piece
    A mighty man of God I love how your fingers dance across your piano
    like the rain falling from the sky
    the power of God flows through you
    like a lions roar
    your eyes shine like the sun
    with joy as you play and sing to God
    And utter words straight from the Lord's mouth
    Hannah, Miranda, Charlie, Sunil and the rest of your team are in total unity
    Hannah is an angel and her voice is sweet as pure honey
    Sunil sounds the alarm call with his drum playing
    Kim to me you are hunky
    your piano playing is so funky
    you bring to me laughter and joy
    written in honour of prophet Kim Clement and team
    I love how your fingers dance across your piano
    like the rain falling from the sky
    the power of God flows through you
    like a lions roar
    your eyes shine like the sun
    with joy as you play and sing to God
    And utter words straight from the Lord's mouth
    Hannah, Miranda, Charlie, Sunil and the rest of your team are in total unity
    Hannah is an angel and her voice is sweet as pure honey
    Sunil sounds the alarm call with his drum playing
    Kim to me you are hunky
    your piano playing is so funky
    you bring to me laughter and joy
    written in honour of prophet Kim Clement and teamI love how your fingers dance across your piano
    Like the rain falling from the sky
    The power of God flows through you
    Like a lion’s roar
    Your eyes shine like sun
    With joy as you play and sing to God
    And utter words straight from the Lord’s mouth
    Hannah, Miranda, Charlie, Sunil and the rest of your team are in totalHanna, Miranda, Charlie, Sunil, and the rest of your team in total
    Unity
    Hanna is an angel and her voice is as sweet as pure honey
    Sunil sounds the alarm call with his drum playing
    Kim to me you are hunky
    Your piano playing is so funky
    You bring me laughter and joy

    Written in honor of prophet Kim Clement and team


    The Agent Who’s Special
    As I nestle in my comfortable home
    My comfortable bed
    I know the agent who’s special

    In The Middle Of The Night
    I go walking in my sleep







    From the mountains of faith
    To a river so deep
     

    I must be looking for something
    Something sacred I lost
    But the river is wide
    And it's too hard to cross

    And even though I know the river is wide





    I know I'm searching for something
    Something so undefined
    That it can only be seen
    By the eyes of the blind



    In the middle of the night

    I'm not sure about a life after this
    God knows I've never been a spiritual man
    Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
    That runs to the promised land



    In the middle of the night
    I go walking in my sleep
    Through the desert of truth
    To the river so deep

    We all end in the ocean

    We all start in the streams

    We're all carried along
    By the river of dreams

    In the middle of the night


    Writer/s: JOEL, BILLY
    Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics Licensed and Provided By
    LyricFind






    Thunder Flower
    By
    Anne Bradley

    Thunder from the sun
    Comes rain
    As Carl Jung depicts
    Archetypes chrysanthemums

    Longevity and Joy
    Solar emblem – Emperial emblem
    Blooming in autumn
    Then winter – even winter

    Thundering their way through
    Kiku, a crest for Japan
    Unshaken by Wind
    Water falls like drops
    Dripping – tearing into Joy

    Colors so rich
    Variety vanquishes
    Solitudinal silence
    Progressing strength
    Promising substance

    Thunder-like globular blooms
    Boom into medicinal blossoms

    Composing ray petals
    Disposing life – longevity
    And the pursuit to be Free.



    I see
    The seat
    is empty

    Facing water,
    earth, sun
    Seeing
    Reflection

    I hear
    More
    For
    I want
    Solitude
    To Sound

    I found
    I lost
    My loved one.

    Why aren't
    The elements
    Meant
    To defend?

    My defenses
    were
    Repression,
    Sublimation,
    Projection -

    Reaction Formation
    evolves as
    I attempt to
    Make New
    Turning the pain
    into positive gain
    Losing impulse
    As my heart
    pulses
    Pushing
    For what's right -
    The sunlight,

    The cleansing water,
    The ground
    I've found
    have rooted me
    To Reality.

    Can beauty
    arise?
    I disguise
    my pain
    in crowds
    Yet in solitude

    The clouds leave.
    I believe again.

    When
    I see
    The Seat
    Isn't empty.

    *anne bradley

     Ice II

    This ice from history
    Brings mystery and fear
    For everywhere you look
    You look for it – the ice,
    Which could make your ship
    Stop, and even die.

    It’s so beautiful, glimmering
    In the sunlight, almost speaking
    With what it’s made of
    For it hides nothing.

    This thing of ice owns.
    To each one who looks on
    They must know this as they move on
    Into the vast water.

    Whatever you do, you see
    Before – for you have to –
    To partake of the ocean.

    This great ice
    Invites yet warns
    By Being
    For it stays
    With such great strength.

    It’s length, what you see –
    Height is twice what.
    You thought simply,
    “how do I get around?”

    When you’ve found
    a way, you achieved –
    not retreated.

    For no one can
    Defeat everything.
    One can only
    View the thing
    And decide
    To detour.

    So when they tour
    That place again
    They blend better
    By enduring and
    Admiring this Piece
    From our Past.

    At last we
    Can see
    Beauty in
    Becoming –
    In Being;
    Strength in
    Longevity
    Existing,
    Resisting
    Wisdom in
    Collecting,
    Depositing the
    Past into Now.

    How else could
    We co-exist –
    And we do
    Need to – for what
    You’ve found
    Is Being.
    -ab
    …..We wanted something for ourselves and for our children, so we took a chance with our lives.” Unita Blackwell, 1940


    Thunder Flower
    By
    Anne Bradley

    Thunder from the sun
    Comes rain
    As Carl Jung depicts
    Archetypes chrysanthemums

    Longevity and Joy
    Solar emblem – Emperial emblem
    Blooming in autumn
    Then winter – even winter

    Thundering their way through
    Kiku, a crest for Japan
    Unshaken by Wind
    Water falls like drops
    Dripping – tearing into Joy

    Colors so rich
    Variety vanquishes
    Solitudinal silence
    Progressing strength
    Promising substance

    Thunder-like globular blooms
    Boom into medicinal blossoms

    Composing ray petals
    Disposing life – longevity
    And the pursuit to be Free.



    FRIENDSHIP
    Friendship is nothing
     If its worth isn’t known
    Render it rightly
      truly and sound
    Inspect it with caution
     and give it the same
    Everlasting friendship
     is something of fame
    Never falsify it
     always be true
    Do justily by others
     and they will by you
    So stable your friendship
     and soon you will see
    Harbor no grudges
     and your mind will be free
    Instigate friendship
     with a smile on your lips
    Put hate in the fire
     and warm up your friendships.
    ----Myrle Bradley, 1973

    (my grandfather, shortly before he passed)


    A GRANDFATHER’S SPECIAL LOVE

    What could be more wonderful
    Than a grandfather’s special love—
    He always seems to know the things
    That we are fondest of,
    He’s always ready with a smile
    Or a loving word of praise.
    His laughter always brightens up
    The cloudiest of days.
    He has an understanding heart
    That encourages and cheers.
    The love he gives so freely
    Grows deeper with the years.
    His wisdom and devotion
    Are blessings from above –
    Nothing could be more wonderful
    Than a grandfather’s special love.

    *Mary Dawson Hughes
    Hallmark edition: Grandfathers Are Special

    Take Courage

    Sometimes you don’t know what’s gonna hit you,
    It’s true.
    And you can’t prepare
    Because it’s there
    And you have to deal with it.
    So Commit.
    Commit yourself to the problem
    To create a solution
    And to destroy the Pollution
    It may have caused already.
    When you think you can’t,
    You can, really
    Maybe this can grant
    You the new lease you need
    To grow,
    I don’t know.
    All I know is
    You can’t
    Stop trying
    Or you start dying inside.
    The place you cried
    Can bring about
    Roots,
    For our own Roots Come from many tears
    Which were shed before us.
    Those who tried—
    Those who cried before us
    With love.
    So—
    As you go on
    (Which is what we were meant to do)
    Bring with you that love
    That will be with you
    Even to the very Edge
    And as you look over that edge,
    Your eyes will go on
    With Hope
    As you Take Courage.
    Annie, 6-20-98

    Home Of The Brave – Land Of The Free
    Those Who are Brave make this their Home
    Those Who are free live on – and are gone
    For each One’s spirit enjoys The Sound
    Of Triumph – of Victory – of being on Solid Ground
    We’ve found what pleasure is
    We’ve found what happiness is
    For it is living for the sake of Truth
    Living for the sake of making things Right
    The Brave fight for those things
    The Brave work for the Truth
    The Brave face the sky-face the water-face You and I
    The Brave’s Time Clock ticks on its own
    And when all is said – when all is done
    The Brave enjoy making the Land Of The Free – One
    One country that nourishes – One that flourishes
    One country that makes Freedom Ring
    Which is The Sound to be enjoyed
    Which is the Ground that makes us Solid
    -----annie-----------

    I am wearing Black today for Travon
    For a young man who was only One
    Of many, victimized by injustice
    Even losing his life at the hands
    Of a man who knew – whoever
    Is informed will be in the form
    Of lies.
    This guy has no worth
    Black is worn in history
    To bring memory of one lost
    To remind us of dark places
    In life – as Johnny Cash’s
    Cause Was
    For where there is no Light
    Life is destitute
    Bringing disrepute
    To our roots
    I Wear Black
    Today to tell Trayvon
    He was okay
    He did nothing wrong
    And wrong should be
    Gone from the courts
    Which only feed lies
    Which only disguise
    Freedom
    It is time
    It is time to Come
    To the Frontline
    It is time to find
    Solutions
    So MLK’s life
    Was not halucinations
    But facinations
    For freedom.
    We come
    United to fight back
    We come today
    In Black.






    And the Russo was promoted to a judge by Gov Malloy - took part in the Sandy Hook Report of Danbury Court - claiming 26 people died, etc = big fat lies!  Yet no one holds them accountable. The FBI special agent in charge reported nobody died - Obama and Comey suppressed it!  Search Sophia Smallstorm Unraveling Sandy Hook.  The School was not even an open school.  


    “I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down, Livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town, I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime, But still is there because he’s a victim of the times.”

    I am wearing Black today for Travon
    For a young man who was only One
    Of many, victimized by injustice
    Even losing his life at the hands
    Of a man who knew – whoever
    Is informed will be in the form
    Of lies.
    This guy has no worth
    Black is worn in history
    To bring memory of one lost
    To remind us of dark places
    In life – as Johnny Cash’s
    Cause Was
    For where there is no Light
    Life is destitute
    Bringing disrepute
    To our roots
    I Wear Black
    Today to tell Trayvon
    He was okay
    He did nothing wrong
    And wrong should be
    Gone from the courts
    Which only feed lies
    Which only disguise
    Freedom
    It is time
    It is time to Come
    To the Frontline
    It is time to find
    Solutions
    So MLK’s life
    Was not halucinations
    But facinations
    For freedom.
    We come
    United to fight back
    We come today
    In Black.




    This Tribute
    Goes to Whom The Bell Tolls and
    To Whomever tolls Musical Bells
    Which ring quietly – pleasing
    And providing prevention
    Monarchs
    Willing to migrate
    Anywhere – they care
    To Flourish and Flower
    For Nourishment
    In exchange with flowers
    Nectar
    Needed and spread
    Wings spread
    Open-welcoming
    Serenely serving
    Curving their path
    After having attached
    To a simple twig
    To shed and become
    Chrysalis
    Chrysanthemums
    May bee the ones
    Which perpetuate
    The butterflies mate
    And migrate
    In life – giving life
    Relying on offspring
    To finish what was started
    Even when broken-hearted
    Continuing their paths
    Paving new trails
    Following where the female
    The mum
    Flew
    Knowing their clusters
    Could not bee
    Could not enjoy the tree
    Had it not been for the trail
    Of mum
    Protected when Viceroys
    Governed and gave
    Clearance from predators
    So they can pollinate
    And continue to migrate
    Making the trail they travel
    Flourish – blossom more
    To become a Better World
                                                           Than before.                    Annie  7/29/2013


    1.     






    Jewelry Angel

    Every angle I look at my gift
    I know its meaning also shifts
    to the maker
    to the creator

    The colors, the shapes, the parts
    They bring heart to this piece I wear
    They remind me of life - real life
    ...
    And I care to wear this gift of the heart

    History and mystery are why
    I want my unique meaning to bring
    tradition. I want my consciousness to confess
    I want my hope to be expressed

    The Heishi Amulet Necklace
    is one example of what my interests
    are. We are by far most precious
    We are what life breaths in us

    We are what we exhale
    We Can
    We don't need to fail
    We Let
    We don't need to forget
    We'll be
    We are part of the Big Tree.

    ****anne bradley

    For my Pueblo friends on Robert Mirabal's Website





    Shaping The American Dream

    A dream
    can be
    Reality

    Through changing
    and viewing -
    reviewing what
    is taught;
    Understanding
    your hands
    create what
    you see
    as your heart
    creates what
    you feel.

    And it's a good
    feeling
    to feel
    what you create
    Shaping,
    Defining,
    Deciding
    what is right
    for You.

    For you
    are the most
    important
    creation.

    The sensation
    of earth -
    clay in
    your hands
    actively
    Symbolizes
    the symbiotic
    relationship
    we have with
    the Earth.

    We form
    Art – Beauty
    As we feel
    the Sensation
    of our World
    in our Hands.

    Ad Your
    heart speaks
    as you
    Listen to
    What you
    Are doing

    Yes, doing
    Brings growth -
    For when he
    inspires
    facing
    liars
    with Truth
    and Strength
    Showing
    Building
    Brings Length,
    Prosperity
    and Charity
    brings
    Love -

    Love,
    which will

    always

    be
    Beyond

    anything.

    Yet, to
    help understand
    You can work
    With the Earth
    With your hands
    And
    Listen.


    ---annie



    There is no remedy

    But do we

    want one?

    JUST is a must

    We live, we love

    We live more

    Because of love

    Let us always be sick

    With Love

    For it Makes Us


    Feel Just that good.

    💖



    Who’ll Stop The Rain?
    There’t the train
    Tracks
    Telling you where it had been
    Living through wind, snow, and rain.
    It still goes
    And shows up
    Even up to the very last moment,
    This train.
    Just look
    Beyond
    You’ll find
    Yours—
    Through tours
    In life
    Staying on
    Your Path
    Your Tracks
    Your Train
    And when
    It rains
    It will be
    From disparity—
    Some your fault,
    Some your fate.
    Either way
    It will tell
    Ypu—do
    Something
    To stay on track
    Go back in time
    Only enough
    To view—to learn
    Then turn—
    Your tracks HAVE to turn.
    And you’ll keep going
    Which is what tracks
    Are showing you.
    It’s okay to
    Wear the blue
    Rain—for however long
    It will make you strong.
    Yes, the blue
    Tells you
    Simply, that’s Life
    And life can be hard—
    Hard as a train—
    Hard as tracks—
    Keep your eyes on
    The blue—
    Beyond the rain
    And do what
    Will make it stop
    While you’re on your track
    And don’t worry
    Other trains help you gain
    Back what the rain
    May have taken.
    Remember—
    Rain brings on
    The Sun.
    Rain brings
    Growth.
    Rain brings
    Being.
    Seeing who you are
    --and why….
    You may cry
    For being can be hard.
    Keep your eyes on
    The blue—
    The true—
    The few who
    Can help you
    Stop the rain.

    ----annie 1/13/2001



    This isn't a poem but an essay...ironically, the crooked administration approached me and kicked me out of school...there was not incident. I was on my way to have dinner in the cafeteria before I took my 3-hr class.  I never got my rights. They refused to let me be on campus.  They denied my right for a hearing. The Student Gov had a copy of my request and said they couldn't help me because it was school break and "don't communicate to us anymore."

    What A Wonderful World
                    A long time ago I wrote a personal essay on this song which was sung by Louis Armstrong.   I don’t have it handy right now, but I just heard Garrison Keillor and his guest sing this song and it brought tears to my eyes.  My father always reacted to this song when he saw it on TV.  For a while it was on commercials on littering and poverty.  Devestating pictures of littered landscapes, slums, children with barely a stitch on them, and more were shown.  I counted my blessings when I saw those commercials.
                    Today I hear this song sung by a greatly-admired artist as well as another artist who is well accomplished.  My reaction to it is different.  I feel shame.  Though our land is not the Promised Land (Isreal), it is a land of promise.  The Chinese named our country “Beautiful Country”.  (pinyin is “Meigoren”, for American; I think I spelled that right) When I think about all the trickery and dishonesty I have personally experienced, along with being subjected to assaults, I sit almost frozen in time.
                    I am taking the Chinese language as my choice of an international language to speak at the university I am attending.  The Chinese have been well-known for their industrialism, their hard-work, their focus.  President George H. W. Bush (the father) implemented programs to encourage the Chinese to come to the United States and also encourage doing business with China.  Since that time, we have enjoyed more of a recognition and appreciation for their contributions, to include working together. 
                    As we as individuals do what we can to be productive contributions to our world, can we see how much materialism exists?  This does not mean everyone should be poor.  I am only saying material value is a precedent over the value of a person.  This has lead to corruption and the chipping away of the very essence of what the United States is obligated to be.  We have existed NOT because of one certain race (though I must say, if any race should be the primary race, the American Indian should be since they were here first and enjoyed Squatter’s Rights). 
                    Choice is what named this country as beautiful.  Choice is what has driven this country in its successes as well as failures.  Choice is what can turn it around.  Holding those accountable for wrongdoing, rather than serving beaurocracy, is one particular way of turning it around.  When someone is harmed, they should be able to get their rights, not be continuously knocked down by beaurocracy , to be more harmed, to feed into their corruption.  Corruption is NOT beauty.  Corruption is not WONDER.   
                    I believe our world has hope – just because of a song like this, which still has value to most of us.  I believe that the wonder in our world includes the strength to stand up for peace, stand up for prosperity, stand up for accountability.  It is one thing to make a mistake, yet even mistakes need to be recognized and corrected.  It is another to be so integrated in corruption that one stopped exercising their sense of right and wrong, for it is all about trickery, greed, and power.  They suffocate our land, they pollute our land even more than the trash – the littering.  Let’s move away from those who choose this way of life.  These life choices will indeed help us live our lives in the peace and prosperity which this country was intended for – which this world was intended for.

    Peace.



    I don't think I failed-up like Tavis Smiley describes in his book, but I sure failed on this one.  Little did I know that GHW Bush was a CIA man and managed the 8 snipers who were only there for distraction so tranny Jackie Kennedy could blow off JFK's head and get away with it.  

    Dear President Bush,         

    Wishing you much rest and recovery, Sir.
    I’m no Billy Collins, but this poem is for you.

    ALL THE BEST

    He’s our President who gave all his Best
    Despite the poor imagery of the Press

    Believing in Transformation
    Dedicated for the Duration

    He’s our President who loved letters
    Believing that America can be better

    He Never Gives Up – Never Gives In
    He looks to our future – not where we’ve been

    If ever there was one who could turn the table
    President Bush would when we thought he wasn’t able

    All his heart – he gives
    Just because he lives

    For we are all meant To Be
    We are all meant to Live Free

    For that purpose We Stand
    For that purpose we must Understand

    We must not undermine
    We must always be kind

    Dear Gracious President Bush,
    I do appreciate your Presidential Push
    I do appreciate your Belief in our Nation
    Under God, Under Good, with endless creation

    I believe you got sick from a premonition
    I believe God told you – you have a new mission
    I believe your sorrow is so great for Sandy Hook
    I believe now more than ever you want to eradicate every crook

    Sir, let go of this load, please, so you can feel better
    We understand – from reading your letters
    We understand you want common good to win
    We understand you expect we can

    Take good care, Mr. President, for I care too
    Get rid of that bronchitis – get rid of that flu
    Picture flying with family to your favorite place
    May God fill you with Serenity; fill you with Grace

    Sir, I really get it – you want us to be Kind
    -          To rid ourselves of negativity which clogs the mind
    I wish you get continued good rest
    And I wish you, Sir all MY best.

    Sincerely,

    Annie

    ewww.


    My Favorite Crochet Project
    My answer to Crochet Club’s Question, June 10, 2013
    ·         Q: Crocheting Club
    What was your biggest crocheting success?

    crocheting a rick-rack pattern while recovering from severe head injury in the hospital. Was in isolation for a month after I got out of ICU. It turned out very crooked on the sides - color was gold and black and white. I saved that afghan because it meant so much to me - I shall overcome - MLK's words resonate in my heart still today....I saved it in my storage unit which I rented since 1999. Though I paid my rent every month, the management stole my possessions and auctioned them off November 2012. Police said "It's a civil matter" despite the obvious theft! I had a $500 antique sewing machine and more! My pictures of that unit were all destroyed by Sprint - so they could help the corrupted. I was given no message or provided any status warning, despite the many times I had to call them due to poor service when I needed it most. That afghan was definitely my biggest success - even over the first oversized slipper I made when I was ten years old. I was hit head-on by a state sander truck full of sand, 20 tons. Despite being in the hospital for 3 1/2 months and crutches for another three - I recovered. I overcame. I did not need more surgery. Yet a woman who was only in the hospital 10 days with 1/10th of the injury I had, went back to the doctors for years and had phys therapy apparatus in her father's house - her lawsuite was enormous. I settled out of court, finding the whole system corrupted and UNUSEFUL. I wanted my life back. I felt like that politician may have even got that sander truck to hit me, since he found his daughter to be a gold mine....My father brought me up right! Independence is what this country is founded on. I had to do my own phys therapy - riding bike, especially. And I recovered better than that woman did, unless her whining was all a fake mask to build more of a case. No doubt, I was an embarrassment for that politician. Too bad. I am glad he was not my father.

    One more thing. When I consider the fact that soldiers and sailors who defend our country's freedom, and they cannot sue when they lose limbs, get permanently disabled, even die - I am at peace. I feel blessed. I think, therefore I crochet.




    Just something to break up the monotany 




    Many notes were deleted on my computer, right in front of my eyes, so my computer is being viewed by someone – if it is my favorite person, that is fine. I don’t understand, but that is fine. I better go to sleep because if this is my favorite person, I want my favorite person to sleep.
    the author seems to persuade the reader of Andrea Yates' character as being stand-offish, yet did she even know?...Andrea Yates didn’t socialize much outside of work. She was a registered nurse at the University of Texas M. D. Anderson Cancer Center of Houston. That night she’d decided to get dressed up and take herself to a nice restaurant. Watching the other couples there, she was inspired to knock on Rusty Yates’s door on her way back to her apartment. She was shy, and the ding on her car was as good a reason as she was ever going to find to say hi. O'Malley, Suzanne (2004-02-02). Are You There Alone? (p. 27). Simon & Schuster, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

    The author earlier said that the psychiatrist claimed the husband “was gravely concerned”…..when she filled the tub the first time – and then said that she did that.....more was deleted....

    Oprah contracted Susan O'Mally - obviously the job was THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS. 

         It was obvious to me Susan O'Mally was a serious victim of Mind Control. And her dirtbag husband was involved.  Was the book planned before she was a victim?  IDK - NBD, I guess - not to the law enforcement there.  




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