17.} The Soul of the Heart Matters

Development of PTSD is unpredictable and can occur at any age.

The severity and timing of symptoms differs from person to person.

Cases are categorized by the following classifications:

Acute: symptoms present less than three months.

Chronic: symptoms present three months or longer.

Delayed Onset: no symptoms present for at least six months.

16.} Might Be Funny If It Wasn't True

Many have harbored a worldview that they are

different from everyone else, but never dared tell anyone!

Their day-to-day squirm through life’s disorganized chaos in heedless

absorption leaves them questioning the curse of their troublesome lives

as others appear to live effortlessly, and even take theirs for granted!

Attention Deficit Disorder, Inattentive in type, unnoticed

commonly prevails unperceived beyond childhood.

15.} The Story of Cinderella {Told Backwards}

The following photos have been
lurking around my mind for some time.
Who took them why or when is a mystery.
A thread regarding them once thrived with several
people guessing in turn what it was they were looking at.
Allow yourself, now, to become enlightened here along with them….

Interlude: Forward

Curses on this
convoluted learning curve!
Inexplicably, both formatting and
pictures often mysteriously disappear!
Certain words enter into mind regarding my
blogging experience, but I won't repeat them here...

14:} Bailey's Sure Cure For 'Serious'

Huh?
Is anybody there?

Do you ever feel like
someone's watching you?

13:} There Are Places...

Been
trying for
years to figure
out where the hell
I've been all this time.
Now, let's see...

12:} 1960's Lilliputian Mission Hill

The first picture, taken from the top of Mission Hill in 1910,
is out of a a book entitled ‘The Glories of Mary in Boston',
written by a parish priest who chronicled the origins
of Mission Hill and Church, recording in minute
detail the two puddingstone birthplaces
of the yet-to-be steepled
Basilica of Our Lady
of Perpetual
Help.

11:} Parallel Worlds Discovered!

Down
Pontiac Street
I rush towards the bus
stop in front of Mission Church.
Anxiously I await the garbage truck
into which I can discard my upsdide-down
world during the short ride to another...

10:} The Day I 'Almost' Hit Her

I remember...
having a mug of coffee at the table while
looking up in total and utter disbelief at the
small tapestry hanging next to the kitchen clock.
There was a drawing of a young girl in a pink dress.
And a little boy wearing a cap, jacket & shorts.
They beamed happiness and contentment.
Some other children must have been
the intended subjects, because
its positive message had
never been revealed
to any of us
growing
up...

9:} Not 'Getting' Humor Is A Symptom

Today,
I Can 'Get' Humor.
There is no doubt in my
mind that I was born with ADD
into a world I wouldn’t wish upon
even my worst enemy, and believe me,
I've encountered a few…

8:} Humor Code Deciphered!

In the second half of the 1970’s,
I managed valet services at St. Botolph
St. Restaurant, behind the Colonnade Hotel
across from the Prudential Center, prior to my
'inheriting the door' of the exclusive Hampshire
House at the foot of Beacon Hill, above The Bull
& Finch Pub, and below ‘Quaffers’ discotheque!

7:} The Night I Met Jimmy

I
never
had more
than one friend
during any period
of time while growing up.
Every single one {all four} of
them were picked off as soon
as they appeared in the
telescopic sights of
her calibrated,
cruel and
spiteful,
mind.

6:} High As The Moon, Deep As The Charles

A little over two years ago,
Apollo 11 astronauts introduced
the world to the moon up on the TV
in Fontaine's late one Sunday afternoon.

5:} You Really Never Can Go Home

Everyone
must have been
warned to keep their
hands off. Why else would
no one utter a welcome word?
They treated me as if I were the
plague. Her message got to them all.
She alone wants complete control over me,
fuckin'bitch...
 

4:} Pa Can't Close Pandora's Box

Pa,
wearing his old,
familiar sweater-vest
along with a puzzled face,
opens the door. It takes a few
moments for him to recognize me
in the fading light.
“Michael!
What are you
doing here?"

3:} Rainbows End Over Prison Point

Since 9 or 10 years of age,
I have terribly missed an entire half
of our family. With a broken heart I lived
for years agonizing about why. My brother and
sisters either didn’t know themselves, or
were sparing me from painful reality.
Her cruelty began early on
and greatly intensified
throughout her
lifetime...

2:} Dark Retreat Of Self

The shadow world of the esplanade
stills my tormented mind into contemplation.
Toward familiar heavens I reason about a motive
behind life filled with pain and isolation. In stoical
faith I plead for relief from this unbearable gift
lacking purpose for a worthier future.
The cryptic answer is always
mine, never
His...

1:} Things I've Never Thought To Tell

So many aberrant
events and unspeakable
memories consumed my childhood
nearly every day that they became unremarkable
to me. Inevitable, inescapable and relentless, the physical
and emotional assaults deadened my spirit into habitual apathy.
Dominated by her volatile temper, passivity meant survival, submission
an offering to lessen the frequency of aggressions. Life was incomparable
to, and especially incompatible with anyone else's.
My zest for living became forever benumbed
by a belt buckle or punch in the face.
Or even worse, belittlement,
rejection, coldness
and the cruelty
of isolation.
The
familiar
nature of
my life is not
monstrous to me.
These are things I've
just never thought
to tell anyone...

Prologue: Oblivion Regenerating

Two words answer
an impulsive question
bubbling from my daydream;
they trigger shock and confusion
steeped in a mirepoix of paranoia.
Dumbfounded in suspended thought,
infernal assailants of old challenge me;
flushing heat, palpitations, dry mouth,
sweating, breathlessness, pronounced
sense of impending doom and the
growing tremble of panic at
my inability to respond.
This is oblivion...
regenerating.

Dedication: Gazing At A Face In The Mind

The Moon card of the Tarot represents
fertility of imagination and dreams.
It is Major Arcana number 18 of
important animal symbolism
with no human figures.
A wild wolf and a
domesticated
dog are
depicted
howling at
The Moon...

Introduction: Crescent Moon Howling At The Fool {Reversed}

The Fool (22/0)


We begin
with the Fool,
a card of beginnings.
The Fool stands for each of us
as we begin our journey of life...

Preface: Why The Crescent Moon Wails

Many of us
adrift in the universe
must share belief in a special place
awaiting our childhood caregivers and their ilk.
It is their reward for endowing our lives with
the egregious gifts of crippled bodies,
shattered minds, and
shredded
souls...

iii: The Imperishable Havanabrownsam

Sam
entered my life
curled snugly asleep
in the palm of my hand.
When told his age, I calculated
his birthday to be January 6, 1989...
Little Christmas!

ii: Dying From Life, Living In Death

When you're eleven years old
waiting for sleep each night to bring
an end to one more day, reposed as a
corpse at a wake in a funeral home where
grieving family and saddened classmates bring
empty goodbyes while whispering regrets,
never while living would even one try;
this is as good as it ever can get
and the norm becomes
meaningless as the
blissful void of
dream...

i: When Madness Howled Back

I
dreamt
of becoming
a poet or writer,
not an adult survivor.
In grammar and high schools,
I read or wrote in spare moments.
When discovered in creative solitude,
they told me my introverted behavior was
abnormal and that I needed psychiatric help!