My Nightmare Side of Life Quotes

The Nightmare Side of Life Quotes

17/06/11Why take the drugs when you can live here & have a bad trip anytime you like? The only side effects are insanity with a bad attitude. No boredom, but it comes with a big price tag - you'll never know what is reality ever was... if there even IS a reality, one that seems never to go away. Welcome to the nightmare time. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

15/09/10Do we ever in this life know why things turn out as they do? Some of what we think of as our worst flaws saves us much grief while some of our best strengths don't help when we think they should. Still, all works together for us in ways we don't always see. Nothing is as it appears. So, I say relax more, enjoy, & work with whatever happens. Might as well smile, too. It's free. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

21/01/11Brave smiles to hide the tears ripping a living heart asunder. Such sad eyes. Why can I not reach you with my hands? You are so far. But, I can reach you with my heart. Can I move mountains to love you? Will it be enough? So many mountains need a very big heart. I can & I must try. Love & Life demand it. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

22/01/11Decades later she still heard the terrified screams, smelt the blood. The words "she talked" burned, locked her in an extreme-still silence. No visible sign of emotion was safe. Ultra-sweet compliance was her defiance & survival. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, Baby Tears

25/01/11Moment by moment I am training myself to respect all of me as a whole & worthwhile person. I am learning to turn scared into sacred. I am learning that I really am who I am, & who I am is exactly who I was meant to be. I am learning this is the same for all my relations in creation. AND, it is a joy. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

26/01/11I hated my body until I realized it was how I heard, saw, tasted, felt, smelt, & experienced life. Without my humble body functioning despite all it goes thru, I would not be here. I could not love, laugh, think, or enjoy all I have so far. So, I am learning to love & bless my body. It's about time. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

12/03/11So, are we all to live in The City of Embers as surviving mutant ninja humans, considering all the radiation from so many sources upon us? Dr. Strangelove had it easy, you know. We have to stop worrying & learn to love the meltdown. *macabre humor for disaster management* ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

15/03/11Japanese people are NOT the enemy or to be hated, vilified, or shown condemnation for the horrors they are facing now. They do NOT deserve this disaster. They need compassion, help, & support from the rest of us who also inhabit this planet. We are ALL human. All of us need kindness. None of us are truly "righteous." We are in this together, folk. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

15/03/11The people, dead or surviving, of the many disasters - from "natural" or war-made causes - do not deserve the horrors or our condemnation. Folk, smugness does not protect us from horror(s) happening to us, too. We are human on this planet together. We need each other badly.. always have... maybe now we will learn this in reality please. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

01/04/11Radiation is safe. Toxic sludge is good for you. Poisoned primal ooze on your beach is clean. I'm from the gov't., & I'm here to help you. I think I hear Orwell rolling in his grave with envy on these slogans somehow. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

10/05/11Weeping inwardly while outwardly unsually still. Big eyes, sad. Laughing, loving, but mostly silent. Drawing. Writing. Music. Books. Smiling. Except the eyes. Watching. Knowing. Secrets, dark, deep. Silent. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

09/06/11So often wannabes, charlatans, frauds of all kinds do hitch onto a cause to make a name, money, power, etc. It is one of the despicable things about our species. Trouble is... too many of our species will fall for the fake "messiahs" without much thinking or checking involved. :( ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

© 2010, 2011, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Recovery

Recovery

Pain, how I hate you,

You excruciating fiend,

Who causes me to cry out with the agony

Of a tortured mind and heart

That tears and ruins my body

And destroys my very soul.

You’ve made my life as miserable

As you possibly could…

But, you failed.

I live. I cry.

I breathe. I sigh.

I think. I try.

I love. Oh, my!

Pain, you gave all you could,

And you still try to wear me down,

But you might as well give up

Because I will banish you one day to hell…

You cannot ruin my spirit—

I will overcome!

I am a survivor, and I will fight you…

And the battle’s just begun!

ã17 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

OK, But Don’t Tell Me I’m Going to Like It!

OK, But Don’t Tell Me I’m Going to Like It!

What do you do when you’re all alone

And it strikes?

You cannot scream loud enough,

Or get numb enough,

Or run fast enough,

Or sleep deep enough

To escape again.

And you know escape is not even the answer.

But how do you welcome torment,

Embrace agony,

Beckon to torture,

Entreat misery,

Cohabit with trauma,

Flirt with devastation?

And damn it all! That’s the only way out.

ã31 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Instinctively Led

Instinctively Led

With hope as the anchor for my soul

As I feel so tossed and torn,

With steady course before me set,

I walk though weak and worn.

Others tread similar paths

Even though I feel alone.

I know my anchor will continue to hold

Even though I feel cut to the bone.

Confused and clear, numb and pained,

Trauma upon trauma relived,

Agonized hauntings my memories come

To make my whole life sieved.

Yet deep in my heart I hear the voice

Of God speaking to my spirit,

Telling me exactly which way I should go,

And, thankfully, my spirit can hear it.

ã22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Crash! Went the Facade

Crash! Went the Facade

A fantasy kingdom,

A life built on lies,

A house made of cards.

A heart in disguise,

A roof full of holes…

I now realize

As memory returns

A shocking surprise

I’ve known all along—

Right before my eyes!

Never put together—

Now the truth will arise

In my heart in my mind,

As I know of assurance

What I greatly despise

Was done to me;

My memory denies

I’ve made it up—

Now the truth for the lies…

Will set me free???

Oh, God! For the lies!

Ó17 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

And the Child Cries

And the Child Cries

Guilty! Branded!

Declared unclean!

Pariah! Scum!

What does it mean?

To be shunned,

To be outcast,

Outside, unwanted…

How long will this last?

Hurting so deeply,

Yet feeling numb,

And being too smart

Just to play dumb.

Aching and empty

Yet trying to hope,

Fears, hurt, anger,

Trying to cope.

Yet what have I done

To be treated this way?

It must be quite horrible

Because no one will say.

ã23 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Panic Attack

Panic Attack

Cold, slimy fingers creeping up my spine…

   Body hair stands up.

      GASP!

Can’t breathe.

   Pounding heart.

      Dry tongue.

         Sweat.

A nameless terror tingles my colon.

   A knot here…

      And there…

PAIN!!

   Tense.

Eyes w-I-d-e open…

   Yet blind.

Straining ears are deaf.

Chilled,

   Yet burning up

      By turns.

Racing thoughts.

Escape!!!

Yet paralyzed.

Even tears have fled the scene…

   Silently screaming

IN PANIC!!!!!

Yet remaining

   Deadly

      Still.

ã22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Who Determines Human?

Who Determines Human?

What makes difference too very different
To be considered human?
Does one particular type of person
Have only that special numen?

Does the phrase “not like us”
Have to equal “deserve to die?”
Can someone very different
Still basically be like you or I?

Many wars have been fought,
Many millions be killed,
These questions stay unanswered
And our hatreds remain unstilled.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Personally Balanced

Personally Balanced

If I were sweeter water still
And not some brackish brine,
If I were only whippoorwill
And not a herd of swine,
If I were only oak and ash
And never knotty pine,
If I were only lakes and trees
And not a deep coal mine,

Then I would lack the bass-er notes
That swell the symphony,
And I would even lack the pain
And tears of sympathy;
My life would only be so flat—
No room for empathy,
And I would—perfectly dull—
Not have much company!
(C) 5 January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Who Are You? Me!!

Who Are You? Me!!
Dark, deep swirling in the river of my soul,
Sucking whirlpool and crashing wave.
How I’ve longed to trace you and
The devilish pain you gave,
But I never could quite discover
Even who you were, you knave.

Struggle, strive, stretch, searching,
Desperate to find relief,
In every nook and cranny,
Turning over each stone and leaf;
I hounded you to dispatch you—
To rest finally was my belief.

Who are you, my constant companion,
Who I fear, hate, yet long to see?
You outwit me, and you mock me,
Yet you fit me to a tee.
I hate you now I love you.
How dare you be me!
(C) 5 January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Determined

Determined
In the heart of my heart is a door
Long locked and barred.
Aching. Yearning.
Deep desire.
What passion ruled me there?

I want to be loved, respected, admired.
I want to be an artist, serene.
I want to be saintly, earthy, risqué.
I want to be alive in all ways.
I want to be graceful, wise, fun, and deep.
I want to dance, sing, and run.

A secret compartment deep in my heart,
Buried yet ever with me.
Blocking. Preventing.
But not anymore.
Because I am determined to be me.
(C) 31 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

My Eyes Have Told My Story All Along

My Eyes Have Told My Story All Along

I looked at some pictures the other day,
And, boy, what a big surprise!
I wasn’t as ugly as I was led to believe,
Regardless of my age or my size.

It was a stranger looking at me,
Yet I recognized my big sad eyes.
My story told a story amazingly clear.
They saw through a life of lies.

Fixed eyes and focused, sad and alone,
Waiting for the unseen…
Eyes filled with a purpose yet gentle and kind,
Fiery and strikingly keen.

Sweet eyes yet haunting,
Knowing yet stilled,
Ready to pounce,
Yet sealed.
Scares eyes and timid,
Searching for love,
Questioning without answers…
Hawk with eyes of dove.

Mysterious yet open,
Guarded but real,
Penetrating,
Much to reveal,

My eyes told my story
There all along,
But no one saw it before?
Clearly something’s wrong.

Yet my eyes covered it up,
Hiding inside,
Remaining undetected—
My life relied.

Yes, I looked at some pictures the other day,
And, boy, what a big surprise!
Seeing myself for the very first time
In my quietly beckoning eyes.
(C) 30 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

That Old Nameless, Faceless Fear Again

That Old Nameless, Faceless Fear Again

I have known the terror
Of never being sure
Just when the next trauma
Would engulf my little world,
Of living out a nightmare
Yet appearing very good…
For whom?

I have known the terror
Of never feeling safe,
Of being ever vigilant,
Of pretending to be sedate…
How docile and passive—
Like an electric barbed wire!
But who cared?

I have known the terror
Of sleepless nights and sleep-filled days,
Of feeling lost and wandering
Through a mine-filled maze,
Of always looking back and forth,
Of never being sure…
Of whom?
(C) 23 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

A Wound for a Heart

A Wound for a Heart

Bubbling, boiling, heatedly churning,
Frothing and foaming, emotions are burning
Into my heart, my stomach, my head,
Violently reeling alone on my bed.

I cannot stop thinking. The memories come…
Upheavals, eruptions, but just feeling numb.
My stomach is knotted; memories play in my mind.
Tormenting and mocking, my life in a bind.

Furiously hating, bitter rancor,
Anger, hurt, fear: my grudging anchor
Holds me in place, frozen in time—
Will I ever be free from their despicable crime?

Sapping my energy, draining my life,
The past cuts right through me like a well-sharpened knife.
Will I ever be freed from my past?
Will I ever find peace in my heart that will last?

The chains are too heavy, too tight and too much,
Tangled, intertwined with my soul in the clutch
Of their cold, evil fingers, tearing me apart—
Big, gaping wounds in the place of my heart.
(C) 17 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

P.T.S.D. Begins

P.T.S.D. Begins
Pinch me. Am I alive?
Yes, but I do not feel it.
Isn’t it strange to be alive yet feel dead,
Such deep wounds and never reveal it?

Nobody knows. Nobody sees.
Nobody knows except me?
Everyone knows. Everyone sees.
Everyone knows except me?

Constant turmoil. Constant calm.
Brightest clouds. Darkest sun.
Scorching rain. Pouring heat.
Standing still on the run.

Hiding in the open field;
Cowering in the hidden den;
Am I really so innocent
Drowning in the deepest sin?
(C) 22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Issues. Everybody’s Got Issues.

Issues. Everybody’s Got Issues.

Identity crisis would be just fine
Had someone not just smashed mine.
“I found myself.” “I lost myself.”
Everywhere: self, self, self.

Hello and how do I do?
I’m very sorry, have I met you?
Yes, I met me the day I’s born;
Then I left me all forlorn.

Oh, you poor and silly me.
How could you possibly not know me?
All my life I’ve felt so dizzy.
Gosh, finding me has kept me busy!
(C) 22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Tears of My Heart Sing to Vieques

Tears of My Heart Sing to Vieques

The depth of anguish,
the stabbing pain of despair,
the bitter root of stolen loves and lives...
broken bodies, broken souls,
... all the promise Spirit had to offer you and yours,
the devastation of your homeland both of people and of earth,
the continued walking through the warplains of the oppressor who continues to hunt you and yours---
and those like you down...
while the mass of people of the oppressor blindly live lives unknowning
and mostly uncaring...
unhearing of your heart's cries and screams...
never knowing a man...
a broken but still standing warrior...
wails and cries out...

....is heard.

I hear....
but I am a simple woman...
one who offers friendship and heart...
spirit gifts...
human gifts...

My sister hears...
one who cares deeply for all peoples..
for the words of our ancestors that the time of changes is now upon us...

Our village here hears....
may we sit beside you...
even if only in heart and spirit...
sit and hear your agonized howls into the night and day...

May I howl with you?
May we all?

Your loss is my loss...is our loss.
Your pain my pain...our pain

How much have we lost through the willful evil and enforced cruelty of a dominator system.
How much we lose as it continues.

But it will not always be so.
Spirit tells us the time of change is upon us.

Please allow me to sit with you...tears falling down...
Please allow my tears somehow to feed your heart...
May my song of sorrow fill your ears...
May my tears seep into your dry and parched wounds...

Tears...down into the bones...
Tears....down in to the bones...
Tears... down into the bones...
Tears...down into the bones...

Bones please live.
Bones please arise again.
Bones please live.
Bones of life again.

May the song of my heart grant you a measure
of hope.
of solace.
of balm.
of peace.

Copyright 2000, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw. All rights reserved.

My Various Thoughts on "The Kill Team"

The article in Rolling Stone:

The Kill TeamHow U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan murdered innocent civilians and mutilated their corpses – and how their officers failed to stop them. Plus: An exclusive look at the war crime photos censored by the Pentagon
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/the-kill-team-20110327

My various thoughts on this article and heartbreakingly evil tale:

When the aim of boot camp is to break the spirit of the human recruit, to instill an "obey at all costs automatically" reflex, to despise the "enemy" (including "Suzy Q",) -- in short to become an efficient killing machine, it is no surprise to find the human then loses a sense of morals, develops a ruthlessness & a cold-bloodedness, etc. That is what allows the human to kill other humans and to destroy whole environments without qualm.  Deep down almost all soldiers and combatants know the evil they did willingly or were forced to do when, perhaps, their reasons for joining in the first place were nobler or even out of desperation (economic terrorism comes to mind.) And, PTSD hits hard once the traumas of war hit that inner core of the human. Some will never ever recover. None come out without very deep gaping wounds in their minds, hearts, and spirits.

And yet, humans seem to want to kill each other over so many things-- greedy things, covetous things, jealous things, stupid things... "I am better than you because I can maim, torture, and kill you if you don't do what I say, hand over all I want from you, or just get in my way at the wrong time." Psychopaths may lead and start the wars, and are so cowardly not to fight in them themselves, but the ones who go into combat are most often volunteers, willing to kill, maim, torture, and be killed, maimed, tortured, etc. for ... what? A paycheck? Honor? Glory? Lies. All lies.

And my heart breaks for the soldiers, for their victims, for us all. We are all culpable in this. All of us. Hatred and evil are equal opportunity inhabitants of humans.

And so the soldiers come home with PTSD and the learned skills of destroying life. Many turn to abuse - of others or of self. Many go insane to find some escape from the terror of what the saw and what they did. No one at home recognizes the returning soldier really. How could someone not familiar with all out evil really know that deep abyss the soldier is trying to return from? But, that does not excuse that we all sent the soldier out to do exactly what was done. Nor does it excuse our refusing to take the soldier back and care for those many deep wounds. We sent them out to die period.

I am not anti-military. We need a defense, especially since humans are as we are. But, I am anti-militarism. I am pro-peace and pro-non-violence. We humans must learn a new way of being. We must learn to stop making war and violence. We must learn how to forgive and be compassionate, to show mercy while keeping justice. We must or perish together. We can do it. The question is will we?

29 March 2011, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw