stream of consciousness

stream of consciousness 9.18

“The Consciousness of Being Human: Self Portrait” by Vennie Kocsis

I never / consented to this / to be a / part of parts / never asked / for the / broken hearts / the laden road / of being human / I am consuming / energy for air / ripping in half / to leave the / density here / to arrive there / so much to / leave behind / misunderstanding / mistrust / the degeneration / of being human / flat the feel / change the emotion / like ocean waves / this realm will / disengage and / the rage becomes / the sum of the numb / too sequestered / to remember / so they die / fire by fire by fire / and some / we love / memories become / teardrops / and scars / run my fingertip / over the / raised bars / hearing music / there is / no other way / injected through earth / plastic cups which / held my birth / death returns / when it / burns and burns and burns / regrowth the flowers / skin ashen / from flames / renamed and / reclaimed / shine the laughter / in aftermath / sees deeper than seas / trickery / treachery / manipulation / lower dimension / in fifth / long for seven / homeward bound / all your theories / are overthinking / flat or round / beginning or end / real or pretend / free or fenced / cages and rages / self created invasions / float away / against the seam / this is / a nightmare / not a dream / if they can’t / hear the / screams and wails / of innocent souls / this is / no place to / call home / I never / said yes / I’ll be the test / for traumas and / altered DNA / it was never / okay / when their / experiments / get to / intelligent / and layers / become invisible / they march in pairs / watching / from distances / invisibly obvious / mundane / this life / ordinary and / strained / drained by leeches / disguised as / preachers / politicians / the mouthpiece / of the wicked / people / so feeble / co-dependent slaves / cave easily / cracking brittle / can’t learn / from trees to / flow and release / shoot the moon / stage the craft / going back / through time portals / I told you / I am immortal / when this skin / becomes hollow / will I / remember / the aches / of this life / will I / look back / to understand why / floating in / the respite I / daydream of / colored plasma / encased / sleeping / m7

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Around My City She Sleeps

There are people who learn to trust the streets. I think of their lives, how they have made darkness their day and daylight their night so they can stay alive.

Where is the safe space when the alleys are teeming with the unloved at night, ravaged by the anger in their souls, screaming out their behavior and trying to numb the pain?

I understand why she sleeps in the day, quiet beneath an office building eave, on a porch never used. I watch the employers walk quietly past her, making sure not to wake her as they enter their offices.

This mixture of compassion and hopelessness fills my observation. She is sleeping soundly where she feels safe. Somehow, there is a silent understanding of this, and so she is left to rest.

I wonder of her story, who hurt her heart, body or both. I wonder when she gave up, how old she was and what would make life different for her.

Caught in a moment around my city, I see the humanness of humans. I feel the dance of empathy and indifference from those who walk past. If they let her sleep, they’ve done enough.

And I feel a woman with a ghost story, thankful for a tiny porch and the chance to sleep in quiet, beneath a mound of blankets, escaping reality for a few short hours.

Around my city, she sleeps, the wind weeps and minds escape into dreams.

©venniekocsis.com

The Pages I Rarely Share: Why Trauma Journals Are Healing

I rarely share my personal, hand-written journal pages. They are private and raw, exposing trails into myself that I don’t necessarily want others to walk upon.

As I continue the journey of writing through trauma, I’ve connected with other survivors looking for outlets for their pain. I believe deeply in journaling, mainly because there are endless ways one can journal. There are no rules. We get to customize it to fit our own need, and it can look like anything.

I have differing journals for varying states of mind:being. One contains dreams I’m either lucky or unlucky enough to remember. Another contains childhood memories. This one is graphic in nature, and I would not share most of these pages publicly.

I write daily in my gratitude journal to keep my self-love balanced. Another journal is filled with letters written to a stranger. A slam journal holds pasted pieces of moments to remember, like movie tickets, a leaf shaped like a heart found on a walk, a cool newspaper clipping and so much more which has fit my fancy to save, glue and tape.

My “Letters to a Stranger” journal is a stream of consciousness ramble of mind dump journal. There is no necessary “reason” to the entries in it. Should someone pick it up, it may appear as the jumbled code of a multiple mind.

These are two pages from my Dump Journal to show an example of what might fall out of my head. I tend to write in this during a mind split moment where my hands need to move while my brain is on overload. I’m in random mode, just clearing subconscious thoughts out of my head. I tend to be lucid. I don’t critically think through it. I allow it to flow and have its own voice.

So, I hope you will dump the images which plague your mind, into words and the thoughts into pages. I hope you give it away, and don’t hold it in.

Dump, my friend, dump.

Stream Of Consciousness | 5.4

the dream / recurrent / dark planet of / cliffs and crevices we / leapt / trained / fought in / total darkness / only scent to / guide so / we became / adept to / aloneness and / the smell of / predators / repeat / through cycles / same space / similar jumps / morphing body / twisting limbs / solid / then liquid and / back again / whatever form / chosen / was / golden for / the moment / have you / ever smelled / complete / lack of light / it reeks of / coal / sulphur / emaculite / lit on fire / what a / morbid place / no food or / rest we / fed / on the loneliness / just a few / years ago / bath night / candlelight / meditation / we go quiet / in the water / i / her daughter / she / we / went flying / so high / i was / eyes closed / had / followed the / spinning hole / the one / you run from / in we go / clear water sky / dimensions high / there are spaces / then the flat / color emerge / below our float / darkened patch / i spin back / retract / familiar ground i / look down / shoot forward / the maze / walls high / human miles wide / there / she says / the dark place / where you / faced the worst / of hellish / hurt i / felt confused / at first / then remembered / we laughed /i had/ thought it was / a planet / see we / planned this / earth / science who / deems us / human we / smile / sometimes shyly / why label we / yet it has / always been me / molecules and / star dust / formed and / unformed / look away / disinformation / mind control station / she / the seven / says the / human heaven / description so bare / doesn’t even compare / to the beauty / shining there / close my / eyes tight to / take in / all the sights / where colors / are felt and / spirit is / held in / revere / the most / precious gem it / is not / stone nor / rock / these illusions / you are taught / I breathe / in blue / exhale purple / heal you / feel me / tears so / beautiful you are / free this / mission is / not complete / i came to / understand the / reality of / delusion / refusing / confusion / become fusion / step through them / over fear like / under thrown spears / it is finished / when you / make the decision / back into liquid / my body lifted / soak in / the lesson what / i see / me / we / molecular hearts / torn apart / it’s just a / fraction of / what can happen / when / we mend / fly again / become wind / ascend / let go / no pretend / face the masses / without / care of judgment / recall your fall / if this / isn’t familiar it / isn’t for you / my truth / can only / be accepted / nothing expected / unpredictable / stay courses / we / ride the horses / become their skin / go back to / the memories again / each time deeper / layers are / thick / strength for this / one free mind / at a time / the goal to / be whole / fly beyond realms / i am / the helm / gaseous flame / i light worlds / but to you / i’m just / that girl / to a few / i am the sea / the ones who / see me / freely / go back inside / we / suck in air and / prepare to dive

Stream Of Consciousness | 6.18.15

these days attention spans / are so full of lack / there are three seconds / three / yes only three / to get you to find interest in me / as if i could / wrap up a galaxy / in just three seconds / meme / scream / the social machine

all these tips and writing advice / update your blog every week twice / post at certain times to hit your target audience / do this / do that / don’t do this / don’t do that / frick frack / panic attack

most days i’m getting through / there’s a target i wanna hit alright / and it’s not my “audience” / whatever that means / i think they are fellow humans / surviving / who occassionally read me / saying / fuck, me too / i suffered like you

necessary / connection / so easily / turned into affection / he has a pretty smile / she has a pretty dress / they say something senseless / throngs of followers / scrambling for the same power / self devour / its the dysfuntion hour

mimic / critic / solitary skeptic / critically think / the sum of / what we have become / can’t help feed your family / gotta save that / money for drugs / can’t give a hug / might feel too much

apathy / when your sister needs medicine / but you’re broke / next day you’re at the store / what a joke / i take note / this is not / how this goes

empathy / share my last piece / split bread in two / so you can eat too / sacrifice time / for your comfort / my stomach grumbles / the pains i hide / so you dont have to know

they say / if you give / it gets returned / somehow / i keep getting burned / love does come / with a cost / because compassion / cannot be bought / but usery can / at the hand / of the selfish / who prey on the selfless

i see the truth / of what they made you / when was / the last time / you cried / even tried / to heal your insides

i’m here writing / not twice a week / i’m weak / and who invades / the suffering / in their hour of need / who dims the lighthouse / when storms rage the seas / who sees inside me / when the silence roars / they keep scores / who can tread the waters / lonely daughter / wounded father

so you say / let me / sell you followers / and i say / no / im not a caller / no guru / no hero / just my truth / so dont walk in my line / its thin / in between the wind and my skin / and there’s no more room / to let anyone in

Streams Of Consciousness | 6.25.15

I am here weightless. Ear tuned to every sound. The fireworks are starting. A week filled with the explosions of war. I despise the celebration of generations who’ve been traumatized by genocide. Headphones. I’m trying to stabilize.

Can I float off away from this place yet? Work to do, but goddamn, I’m tired. Inside. Down in the caves where the seaweed waves in water. She, there, that siren; she is tired inside her liquid soul.

Outside, my body pushes. My face smiles, forced because maybe if I push at it fiercely it turns into the real real. The sounds of fans whirring above me. It’s heated evenings with the shades pulled up to catch the breezes.

Life moves on. Can’t do shit to change that except to feel it all. Face forward. Eyes on the prize, girl, eyes on the prize. Actualize. My destiny has arrived.

Which looks like….

A settled sunset in a camp chair around a beach bonfire,

A triumphant glow in the eyes of a child who has escaped the pain and healed,

A human holding accountability softly in their palms saying, “I fucked this up. I deserve to carry this, not you.”

An acceptance,
A sag of the shoulders and
A rest before the next climb.

They say don’t expect too much from people. It gives way to disappointment. I say that goes along with all the other ways a victim is left to carry the blame. No. The shame belongs solely to the asshole who throws away lives without a care. Don’t blame us.

Here is YOUR Diagnoses:

Apathy, Chronic
Envy, Unresolved
Greed, Chronic Satiation, Level OCD
Selfishness, Harmful Ideation

Everything with you motherfuckers is about money. It temporarily numbs the pain like drugs, and when that plug is pulled, what’s left but the abscess to drain endless,

Your chosen mental madness,
Your fucking sadness,
The voices in your head
Telling you that you ain’t shit;
I know all about it.
I used to be a pro
At telling myself no,
Instead of attending
To my precious soul.

Thinking about it makes my stomach sick. I’d rather live a thousand lives of loneliness than ever give in to anyone again.

I say yes to this right here; the silence; the peace; the ability to freely be me. And fuck the gurus and the controllers, the betrayals and the disloyal. It’s a journey of suffering embraced like a blanket and the shit ain’t mine this time. I get to leave it all behind.

So, I am weightless on this bed. Thinking about communion style wafers of white chocolate and laughter that fled at the sight of action and accountability, because standing on your own two feet ain’t never been a strength when you care more about Vera Wang than your own ability to become better and change.

Lying and manipulation is the crutch of your existence,

And me? I’m just weightless. I’m just feeling, dealing and healing. Because that’s what I do. Live my truth. Even if the self hating critics keep the rest of you in prison, I have escaped to never, ever return to that gate even if it grows flowers;

Unless I have a mallet
To knock down the malice.

Stream Of Consciousness 6.5|15

What kept you silent, mother? Was it the denial of the screams echoing down the hallway every time the abusers’ belts landed a blow to me? Did your heart really belong to their ministry? There are secrets that you shared without even speaking. Infectious connections I’m quickly uncovering. You are all earth and upturned stone.

What will remain when the truth is regained; when we find out what is left behind? We were test subjects for the mind.

I’m staring them in their faces, mama. They are victim blaming and apathetic. Were they not this pathetic to you? Where did you ever see truth in such blatant illusion? What depth there must have been to your confusion.

I’m strong. Throwing bricks. The layers are thick, but we’ll get to the heart of this sickness. Control and Ego. It’s all gotta go.

They run rabid like dogs feeding off the hearts of innocent survivors; grab your pocketbook, write a check, this one needs therapy again. It’s a racket from start to finish; one claiming extremist; the other peace. All ritualistic and damaging, both are the same, just presented in different packaging.

We discovered each other, mother. Did you ever expect that? We are here tracing our steps back. What we are finding is spellbinding, a circle of explicit deviance wrapped in a bow of reverence and deliverance.

Yet, none can save the soul but the one who owns it. There is no atonement for their deeds. They hope and wish but the truth is, what awaits them after death… is nothingness. You went back to the gray and so will they, pompous court jesters with wounds that fester deeper than ours.

But they don’t wear their scars as proud. They don’t shout as loud. They drop names and hope for fame; score coin without shame at the expense of the wounded. It is a circus of psychology and ideology. They dont see us following behind, warriors prepared to reveal their crimes.

Meanwhile, we are freely thinking and unleashing an unearthing. We are re-birthing ways brand new, and these unchivalrous tyrants aren’t sure just what to do. Their masks have fallen. Truth is calling, and their exuses have become useless.

And so we dig into the deepest parts of it, because this pit’s not bottomless and we arent the type to quit.