It began with a story from another realm that was but was not real,

Stirring up so many emotions that I do not know how to feel.

There was once a little girl who broke all of her dolls,

she was always getting the short stick of life’s slips and falls.

The preacher said, “The child needs to be blessed!”

And so, with her spirituality, they started to mess.

Of what once was and someday maybe once more,

she rapped ever so gently on the cellar door.

To her surprise, an answer arose,

Was really it so hard? God only knows…

All she ever wanted was to be loved and protected,

but of this fact her parents shamelessly rejected.

She kept her small head high, just pushing forward and on,

but she had died inside already, that little girl was gone.

She sits in the corner dismembering dolls,

and she trembles in the recoil of her family’s harsh calls.

No one was ever there for the child,

and in her mind, she grew more feral and wild.

She wears long-sleeved shirts to cover the bruises,

but she will not ask for help, this she very sternly refuses.

The teachers all suspect, but they do not really want to ask,

“Who is that little girl who hides behind a mask?”

She adorns it each and every single day,

she yearns to break free or to just go away.

At night, the monsters under her bed,

well, they all slip inside of her head.

So battered, so broken,

not a single word of this she’s spoken.

To say it out loud would make it worse,

so instead, she suffers in silence from one hell of a curse.

In the dark, she prays for the Goblin King to, “Come take me away!”

but he never comes and so it is there she is forced to stay.

Her home life is so toxic that its profound.

If I said it out loud, how would it sound?

Scars crease her tiny wrists created by a blade,

that she had dug inside of her flesh, yes; mistakes were made.

Her mother is a distant, cold, and cruel bitch,

but the suicide didn’t go as planned it was thrown off the hitch.

Inside her head, she’s crying out loudly, and yet no tears have fallen.

She is dreary eyed and anxious; she seems so very sullen.

Her father forces himself on her in acts of wretched and hateful molest,

but she keeps that to herself, locked up tight inside her chest.

All she’s ever wanted was to just escape,

that and oh yes, a father who didn’t commit rape.

Incestuous, she never cries anymore,

but it’s rotting her to her very core.

Her parents are druggies and they live in a slum,

they think they’re so smart when they are actually dumb.

Dirty syringes, sharp needles, all urging her point of release.

When she can finally run away perhaps these thoughts will cease.

Burdened, mistreated, malnourished, and disrespected,

she wishes that they’d left her alone and instead neglected.

At night when she sleeps, she keeps on having this dream,

it is the same one as every night and that makes her want to scream.

It’s always about being trapped in a house with no doors, windows, or mirrors.

This same repetitive reoccurring dream has gone on and on for years.

Cracked like the foundation she uses to cover up her black eyes,

destitute, forgotten, she no longer cries.

She feels like a ghost, one of the walking dead,

as she runs from the demons trapped inside of her head.

They taunt her, and prod her, and poke her with sticks.

Reality or fantasy? Either way, they’re dirty tricks…

She feels hopeless in a situation that she can’t fix,

her back to the corner, head down, clutching a crucifix.

She feels trapped like there’s no way out,

then the voices in her head get loud and they shout;

the most horrible things at her in a ghastly wail.

She’s too thin from not eating and she looks rather pale.

Another day of this horror she just can’t survive,

and often she wonders if she’ll get out of here alive.

Dank and damp like a basement long forgotten,

you can literally smell the decay as if something is rotten.

All she ever wanted was a little more love,

from her parents, her teachers, and God above.

She’s been plotting the day when she plans to strike back,

her heart begins pounding, then it fades all to black.

She grabs her father’s gun from off of the wall,

then moves ever so silently down the dark hall.

Slowly creeping into her parents’ bedroom,

with an ever-increasing sense of death and doom.

She’s in their doorway now as they sleep,

stalking like a predator, she doesn’t make a peep.

She aims the rifle at her daddy’s still head,

then she fires, pulls the trigger, and now daddy’s dead.

Her mother wakes up to the sound of the gunshot,

looking now as if she’s the one that’s been caught.

The little girl aims once more and squeezes the trigger,

and wouldn’t you know, just wouldn’t you figure?

Suddenly the gun becomes stiff and jammed,

the Gods are playing a joke on her, the very recently damned.

Out of bed and running past her, the mother tries to flee,

all of a sudden, the hunt is back on and this thought fills her with glee.

Her moms got no shoes on and is dressed in a skimpy nightgown,

the little girl pulls a knife from her pocket and easily chases her down.

In a panic now, her mother’s trying to escape via the front door,

and the fear in her eyes makes our heroine smile more.

Up behind her, she jabs the knife deeply into her back,

instantly she feels like it’s Christmas and Santa’s brought a full sack.

Again, and again, with such savagery so fierce,

the knife goes in and out; her mother’s been repeatedly pierced.

The little girl didn’t know it at the time, nor did she count her stabs,

her mother’s hands now bloody, in self-defense the blade she grabs.

She’s soon overpowered and knocked back to the floor,

where she’s stabbed over and over until you could quote the Raven, “Nevermore.”

By the time she was finished the total stab count was forty-eight,

and now that she’s finished the little girl feels great.

For the first time ever she’s actually free,

to do anything, or say anything, well, that’s what she told me.

She left both of their bodies in their own pools of gore,

but to be honest, she’d really like to knife them some more,

just for all of the pain and trauma that they both had inflicted,

but her thoughts settle now and become shifted.

This is all like a dream, a bloody fantasy gifted,

and off of her shoulder’s the weights finally shifted.

She finally found justice and she felt vindicated,

and now as she reflects, she sees that some love is over-rated.

So glad she was there to take from them their final breath,

no chains now, she’s the victor and the bringer of death.

Copyright 05/26/2020

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What would you sing if it was your final song?

Would you wail about the past or come to terms with what’s next?

Are you at peace within or is there someone that you’d text?

What would you say if you knew that there’d be no tomorrow?

And does the thought fill you with joy, or stuff you full of sorrow?

Have you made peace with those they say are on high?

Did you prove to your loved ones that for them you’d die?

If you knew that your time was limited would your budget mean less?

Would you finally understand that money is meaningless?

Only the time that we spend here with those we love truly counts,

and heaven or hell, what it adds up to, we all pay our amounts.

We sow our seeds, we consume the earth,

we mourn death, and we rejoice with birth.

Being down in the dirt allows us to bloom,

some; despite our pending personal doom.

Can you stand the cold harsh winter showers? 

Are you a unique seed or one of the many flowers?

Our time we have left is precious and heaven sent,

so, when you’re doing your taxes make sure it’s been well spent.

Only our aftereffects will remain one day,

tiny earthquakes of how we changed the world our own way.

Make sure your aftershocks are positive ones and pure of heart,

because one day, you too, shall depart.

You’ll leave the earth, shake free from the mortal coil,

so, what you sow let no man soil.

Copyright 2026

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I got a bowling ball in my stomach; I got a desert in my mouth.

Figures with my stubbornness, that I’d go down South.

Walking down the path that leads to all the backstreets,

I’ve been looking for a savior in these dirty sheets.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve, so please don’t push and shove.

I got a kick for a dog begging for love.

I’ve got to find a way out of these deep dark blues,

maybe go buy some jewelry and a pair of sparkly shoes.

Dancing in the desert, I have a free-spirited heart,

figures that society would want to tear that apart.

I’ve been praying every day, delaying my delights,

Struggling, carrying on into the darkened sky-lit nights.

I’m the bearer of my torch, the keeper of my flame,

I’m the Holy Book until myself, I’m my sacred name.

Wolves howl in the forests, dogs sleeping down on my bed,

I’ve got a flurry in my chest, a fogginess in my head.

In my orange knickers he cherishes me, he’s my Godsend.

I’m all punch drunk on love and I don’t want this to end.

Aunt Jackie can you tell me is it worth it in the end?

To find the one that soothes our soul, to become our own best friend.

Lying in my wedding dress when the shots rang out,

still trying to piece together what this life’s about.

Light bearer lover, oh Satan, oh my Lord,

take your knife and pierce my heart with your sharpest sword.

6 am and where is my spark now?

I know that I can carry on, I just don’t know how.

Even if it doesn’t work out, even if you’re all wrong,

I am thankful for what we went through baby because it made me strong.

By Lesley Michelle Patterson AKA Lady Opaque

Copyright May 23rd, 2020

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Looking inwards at this hidden battle buried withi

like lost treasures of the psyche in realms long pushed down.

Soaked in pain and covered in sin,

Light shines on long-forgotten repressed places for which I wear the crown.

Revolver filled with rusty bullets reloaded once more,

“How do you like me now?”  I can’t help but ask.

Shots like thunder clapping strike the very core.

An awakened eye peeks from a walking corpse in a mask.

Goddess Hel welcomes us, she has many lessons in store,

such as how to live life backward; that’s our greatest task.

It’s our only key to rebirth, this cycle we continue, forevermore.

Angry laughter, creaking gently from my cellar door…

The inner predator smiles coyly, but I cock my gun and aim.

To kill off this fiend is necessary in order for my psyche to thrive.

No longer will it keep me locked in such regret and shame.

I leave the corpse for the scavenger birds, and I finally feel alive.

Rebirth is a bloody, bloody business of Life/Death/Life.

We must persevere and cultivate,

growing despite our daily strife.

Learn to develop more intuitively, creatively, with self-care to sate.

Learn to love ourselves and to trust in our own intuitions;

to let loose the Wild One inside you.

It howls now in the moons superstitions,

beckoning for you with her seductive witchy brew.

Meet her in the desert of whatever stagnancy you’ve been stuck in,

she’s here to help you out if only you’ll heed her call.

Face the pain inside you, dispose of the dead things you find.

You’ve got the strength inside you to overcome it all.

Remember we can only move forward, there is no rewind.

“Wild Ones Within Us” Poetry by Lesley Patterson AKA Lady Opaque of WritingBeautifully.com

Copyright 05/16/2020

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by Lesley Michelle Patterson AKA Lady Opaque from WritingBeautifully.com

When the dead come back home on All Hallows Eve,

as the Jack O’ Lanterns jeer at us through encased windowsills & glowing eerily while left out on porches,

and the funeral pyre is struck up and then burnt to a crisp with just one match and some torches.

As the year crawls back out again from its surface,

exposing the deep, moist, unforgotten truths of the soul.

Of matters of the heart and of the spirit,

when the ones who went before us can be heard to whisper,

those sounds of terror that go bump in the night.

Which ignites us with overwhelming fright at just one spark.

It’s not just all in our own head,

when even little children roam the Earth as the dead.

Where leaves turn colors then crack and crumble,

and when we watch for razor blades hidden in treats.

When we light the paths for those wandering souls on dark streets.

When everything smells of pumpkin and spice,

the time when we brew cider that tastes oh so nice.

The spirits are out, the veils once more lifted,

facing us with the bare bones of what really lies underneath it all.

A time of sweaters and pumpkin pie,

a time to remember and a time to cry.

A time that scares some as it reminds them that we’re all going to die.

A moment when the world between this one is thin,

and people laugh and delight in their sin.

Let’s get wicked, let’s get ghastly,

“Did you feel that?” “No.” “Something just walked right past me.”

On Samhain when the dead come back home,

on this cold earth forever they’ll come back to roam.

Haunting us and summoning up the very demons that scared you every year before this.

Those who will still come back, despite having no warm body to crawl back inside of.

A time when horrors all the rage and demons go drag racing,

when people only find more delight in the sounds of the screaming and a horrific and tragic crash.

Where you could swear the stench of death is at times, trying to creep into your very nostrils.

When the cemetery is not just a place to joke around and get high in anymore,

even if for only one evening of pulse-pounding terror and fright,

and when everyone is made up to be a horrific sight.

They are not dead but just dreaming,

and they will be returning every year around this season.

When the thrill of terror makes your blood run cold,

and people express their inner evils with costumes so bold.

We are the ones who do not fit in here, and we know it.

We started dressing up like those who return just to show it.

When the collective energy down that dark hall is especially foreboding,

and when little kids come up with dares to try to scare each other even more.

A time of casting spells, using enchantments and making deals with the devil himself.

When being afraid is so thrilling and enticing that we simply give in to it,

even those of us with an iron will feel the same but won’t always admit it.

You’ll see them rocking in the corner half past midnight, nearly in trance,

from some untold sound and some deadly romance.

When ghosts sit around and discuss whether they believe in the living,

and at every door, there are strangers and candy they’re giving.

When monsters stalk us and nightmares come to life,

when the cold bare bones of Mother Earth herself embraces us,

ever so gently, but with a deep, sincere meaning,

which leaves you in awe, with your very soul reeling.

When lit candles glow in the innards of gouged out pumpkin skulls,

A special spot in time when the more morbid the better,

and the little girls crying that the monsters are going to get her.

When Frankenstein stalks the Dr. so determinedly,

and even the most terrifying of freaks need sweethearts and love.

When we push boundaries and each other into deepening darkness,

suffocating on the rotten treats that we so rarely often deserve.

When the only serving size on candy and sweets that counts is how much can fit into the palms of your hands.

When we drift away to Nod, to the Abyss itself, and off to forgotten, dark lands,

where we start to doze off under much warmer bed covers,

The time of the year for homicidal lovers.

Freddy slaughters you if you dare fall asleep,

and nightmares throttle you underground 6-feet deep.

When Jason returns to Crystal Lake,

and when everyone knows that the ghosts are not fake,

and they become more than just starched bedsheets,

Even if only for one month out of the year,

it’s that time again when we all love to fear.

We’ll sit around and tease each other as we listen to the Crypt Keeper’s stories,

and they seem all the better, so unnatural and gory.

When everything’s so ugly, yet making people feel pleasure.

When the head change hits us more and you can feel the excitement in your blood and in the very air around you.

When the cold rush of terror stares into our soul and chills us, exposing our insides,

and when even those who don’t believe in Hell will try to portray it.

Suicides, abortions, and nightmares they moan,

letting you know now that they were never really gone.

Pale skeletons and dusty bones shimmer despite themselves in the moonlight,

and that corpse in the river is now floating just right.

When the horrifying is attractive,

and when all misunderstood things suddenly make more sense than anything ever has.

The time of the year to remember the old ones who’ve passed,

But don’t shed a tear as they never have left us.

Every Halloween they’ll be at your side once more,

with their cold embraces and mumbling in hushed voices.

This now is the time for the of the Old Ones.

The ones who used to be, but aren’t anymore, yet still are.

The ones who we’ll be joining very shortly, and they seem to know it.

Even worse, we know it, we feel the dread, but on this special night its pure intoxication,

and goosebumps are more than just a prickly sensation.

Mummies, witches, devil worshipers, zombies, and vampires,

they all commune and dance in the pits of our future funeral pyres.

When we gather to tell stories of a madman terrorizing teens in a car,

when folklore and stories have a life all their very own, especially so.

Where the dead go to remember how they were once alive,

on the night when it’s exciting to barely survive.

When the fearful act brave, but there’s no need to fake it,

and we collectively feel this way, there’s just no mistaking it.

As the fog rolls in and creeps in puffs around our feet,

and as we breathe the harsh, cold air through warm, excited lungs,

lungs just bursting to open wide and shriek with fright,

and scream with the dead in the moons ghastly the light.

When fears so thick you could splice the air with a butcher knife,

and blood congeals just a bit and quicker than usual.

As the serial killer takes her hand smiling and walks her out to his car,

and no one pays any mind, they are still drinking in that bar.

Where humans are so confused, they don’t even know what they are.

Meet me here, in the Land of the Dead, it’s not far.

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but this bond goes far beyond blood.

It reaches into the realms of eternity,

it drowns me just like a flood.

I’ve faced my greatest fears for them,

gone far past what I had thought that I could achieve.

Given them all my love that continues to stem,

for in each other we believe.

My husband, my daughter, my grandson,

make me a better me.

And the good times are far from done,

just you wait and see.

We can weather any storm on through it’s end,

and we’re always down to ride.

My daughter is my closest friend,

in her I can truly confide.

My husband is my soulmate,

and heaven sent my grandson here,

We will never raise him in hate.

And we’ll teach him never to fear.

To live with love and integrity,

to do what makes him smile.

To handle himself in the street and city,

to enjoy the walk, each and every mile.

How to be a man and how to treat women with respect,

and to enjoy each day, even the ones that were bad.

I’ll always shower him with love every single chance that I get,

teach him how to smile and ease his anxiety when he’s sad.

This vow I make and will never forget,

to my own holy trinity.

My little family sacred family sect,

my husband, my daughter, my grandson and me.

It’s ironic and incredibly depressing to think that those who are supposed to love us unconditionally, such as our family members, are so quick to flip the script on you just because things didn’t go their way. Hence, they throw a fit, and suddenly you’re the bad guy. Fuck man…

So, my own mother turned on me and literally filed false police reports that caused a Detective to need to meet with my husband and me regarding supposed Debit Card Fraud charges. On top of that, she lied her ass off to get a Temporary Protection Order Against Domestic Violence.

Despite telling us that it didn’t matter if we showed up to the Hearing for the Extended Protection Order, the Order has awfully affected us. It portrays my husband and me as abusers who get off on the abusive acts that she falsely stated we’ve committed. In all of its forms from physical to verbal to mental and emotional.

Whatever my own mother could say and think up, she said because the Courts took her so seriously that we are a threat that they attached a Firearms Addendum to the Retraining Order. Neither my husband or I may own any firearms anymore for the whole period of a year while the Restraining Order is active and in effect. This is just because we weren’t able to get out to where she is as we don’t have our own car or a means of transportation right now to travel there.

We all used to live out in the boonies in Fallon, NV., with the whole family, but the situation kept on getting worse and never let up or got any better, so I took the next logical step and did something about it. I was swift and decisive in my actions when I decided to speak with my mother on August 27th, 2019.

“And why did she do this,” you may be asking. It’s quite simple, really. She’s played this game ever since the early 1980s when she claimed that I was molested by my father (of which I have no memories of having occurred ). She went the whole 9 yards with him, too. At the end of the ensuing Custody battle, my mom had everyone believing that my father was a pedophile and a deranged, evil man and drug addict.

I, in fact, now actually do not think that I was ever even molested by my dad. I genuinely believe that my mom just wanted to get back at him for the issues they had in their relationship. She’s deranged, and it was quite convenient for her to lie so that she could be granted a TPO, which turned into the same thing that we were served with due to her lies, a Restraining Order Against Domestic Violence.

Needless to say, I never had a relationship whatsoever with my father or with his side of the family due to my mother’s influence, and now I see why we were treated as the black sheep of the family and continuously scapegoated by family members. It’s because my mother is fucking lying, shameless and horrific bitch that no one, not even her own blood relatives, wants anything to do with. It was hard for me to understand that as a child and a young adult. I knew my mother was mentally ill and on drugs, but I never really saw all of the abuse and tactics for what they indeed were until I’d summoned up the strength and guts to finally leave her to her own devices.

It’s all very simple to her. I’m sure; she wants to hurt my husband and me for no longer wishing to live with her after over 17+ years of living together with her constant drama, untreated mental illnesses, and everything else. It compounded with her incessant nit-picking and family fight, causing ways along with her daily wants, needs, and unreasonable and abusive demands.

Her behavior and false allegations about and towards my own father drove him to literally insanity. The poor man went bat shit crazy and finally broke down, brought the lawnmower into the old family home, set an accelerated fire with the gasoline inside of it, and prepared to sit down and burn himself alive. I shit you not, this is 100% true! That’s what really happened to him as a result of what my mother had done, she had broken him and permanently damaged his reputation, and he felt there was no going back or moving forward left for him. I find that quite sad…

Finally, I think he just wanted relief from the torture, the pain, and the relentless agony and angry depression that he suffered from. Supposedly my dad was Schizophrenic, but I’m not sure I buy that one anymore either. (Straight from the horse’s mouth, if you know what I mean…)

My mother is a drug addict and a big drama Llama who enjoys picking and picking at you, slowly eroding your sanity and your calmness until she’s got everyone upset in one way or another. I hadn’t known this had happened, but my own mother tried to turn me against my very own daughter. She had manipulated me into believing that it was her who was the disruptive one and caused all of the household’s problems and fights, but the whole time it was her slithering snake ass.

I even put my own daughter on probation and had gotten the law involved with police and everything due to my mother’s tricks and deceit. It wasn’t until very recently that my daughter confided in me how her own grandma used to beat the holy living shit out of her whenever my husband and I left her home with her. I feel terrible about it, and it’s something that I can’t apologize enough for having had happened to her.

My mother is a hardcore pain pill addict and takes handfuls of opioids daily. (Not counting how often she runs out early due to her severe abuse and misuse of them.) She was supposed to love me and to want the best for me; to raise me to be someone who succeeds in life, but I got the short end of the stick and, lastly, blatant betrayal.

I am honestly shocked that she filed false accusations against us, especially on me. Well, I was blown away at first, but then my husband and my daughter told me that they couldn’t believe that I didn’t see that bullshit coming over a mile away. I felt a bit stupid, because the more I mulled it over privately, the more I knew that they were right. Then again, who would want to believe that their own mother could be so heartless as to use the law along with her tall tales and illegal perjury to harm them in such a retaliatory fashion? No one, that’s who and neither did I.

I was thinking the other night, and before my mother had gotten myself and my daughter removed from her custody and put into foster care through DCFS back in 2001. She got in trouble for meth use, pain pill abuse, and charges of blatant Child Neglect at the time. I finally came down to the quite painful and heartbreaking realization that I was so much so not a priority to my own mother that she had us living in motels ever since we moved to the Reno, NV. area in 1997.

In case you didn’t know this already when you live only in motels, you are legally considered homeless. My mother made me homeless in 1997 when we left my hometown of Sacramento, CA., to move here to Northern Nevada. Back then, also due to her use of methamphetamines, she had so recklessly not planned the move at all or what we’d do once we got to Reno.

This inaction on her part caused us to lose the UHaul we’d used to move, and shortly after that, all of the belongings inside of it as well. Everything I’d ever had my whole entire short life at that point, was auctioned off by the company due to her non-payment. It resulted in that because instead of being an adult and doing the right thing and working with them on payments, she fucked up badly and decided it’d be better to try and hide the Uhaul van that we’d used and parked it in secrecy. She couldn’t even do that well enough because she was so drugged out, and the Uhaul company came and picked up their van within just a few days.

I was upset about it for the longest time, about losing everything that I’d ever owned. There was a bag of crank in the Uhaul van, and when my mother did have the opportunity to get a few things out, she opted instead to find the meth. She sent me to school and didn’t allow me to come to get any of my stuff out of the van. I lost literally everything I’d ever loved and many important memories like family photos and keepsakes from passed on relatives. It still makes me literally sick to think about it.

My mother is the kind of woman who attracts the biggest loser in town, and it always gets exceedingly violent and then ends terribly. The man she chose was a bigger addict than she was and an awful person. He’d beat her often, even right in front of my then-boyfriend now-husband and me. He then started beating me and attempted to choke me out once, but my husband stopped him from succeeding in his attempt.

In retaliation, the man threw my baby kitten out of the second story motel window resulting in what was a white kitten with Grey spots appearing like he was brown. I only found this out because I was pregnant with my daughter and searching everywhere for me kitten whom I thought had escaped somehow from the house. Turns out, Animal Control was called to pick him up because he couldn’t move from the spot where he fell and was injured so severely that he appeared brown. This gave me great heartache as it means he was hurt so badly as to bleed a great deal, and when it dried, it caused him to appear brown in color.

My main point of this blog post is that no human being deserves such treatment. No one deserves this kind of abuse, yet sadly it’s committed all over the world, every single day by horrible people who enjoy harming others. It’s terribly ironic that my mother has turned her tactics of abuse onto my husband and to this extent, especially when you consider that we were the ONLY ones who were ever there for her, and this is the thanks that we get? Intimidation, harassment, threats, attempted Criminal charges, and a Restraining Order? Neither my husband nor I have ever once been in trouble with the law, and yet somehow, they believe this cunt who has a pension for pulling these stunts on people to get back at them for decades???

Breaking away from abuse is always a scary endeavor. If you stayed, at least you’d have the surety of knowing how it’s likely going to turn out, but many people really fear change, especially big ones. It took a lot of thought and courage on my behalf to decide that myself and the other members of the family no longer should be treated so abusively and taken advantage of by my mother. I did get away, finally, after many years of relentless maltreatment. Things are starting to get better for us rather quickly now, too. I have a new job, and my husband can finally get the knee surgery that he’s needed for years. My main point here is that there is hope! There are loving, kind people in the world, and you shouldn’t ever give up and stay in an abusive situation because it’s never going to get any better, only much worse. Worse yet, you’ll waste all of the days, months, or years of finding yourself and actually living and enjoying life if you stay with your abuser. It can be done, you can leave, and things can start to improve, it just takes a leap of faith and a bit of work, but you never have to stay in those circumstances, it’s unhealthy and only leads to stress, sickness, and precious time wasted. Work on yourself instead, take the first step and tell yourself right now, make a promise to yourself, that if you’re ever being abused by anyone you love, you’ll leave. The name of the game is to “love thyself” and believe me, you ARE worthy of love, and you ARE worth it!

By Lesley Michelle Patterson AKA Lady Opaque of www.WritingBeautifully.com

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

“Never cut what you can untie.” – Joseph Joubert

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” -Henry Thoreau

“A #2 pencil and a dream can take you anywhere.” – Joyce A. Myers

“Believe you can and you’re halfway there.” – Theodore Roosevelt

“Change your thoughts and you change your world.” -Norman V. Peale

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” – Rabindranath Tagore

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

“Every charitable act is a stepping stone toward heaven.” – Henry Beecher

“Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul.” – Thomas Merton

“For a gallant spirit, there can never be defeat.” – Wallis Simpson

“Give light and people will find the way.” – Ella Baker

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” – Henry Ward Beecher

“Great hopes make great men.” – Thomas Fuller

“Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.” – Suzanne Somers

“Happiness resides not in possessions, and not in gold, happiness dwells in the soul.” – Democritus

“How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!” – John Muir

“Mankind is made great or little by its own will.” – Friedrich Schiller

“Put your heart, mind, and soul into even your smallest acts. This is the secret of success.” – Swami Sivananda

“The best way out is always through.” – Robert Frost

“The fact that I can plant a seed and it becomes a flower, share a bit of knowledge and it becomes another’s, smile at someone and receive a smile in return, are to me continual spiritual exercises.” – Leo Buscaglia

“The glow of one warm thought is to me worth more than money.” – Thomas Jefferson

“The power of imagination makes us infinite.” – John Muir

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” – Edith Wharton

“Thinking: the talking of the soul with itself.” – Plato

“Think with your whole body.” – Taisen Deshimaru

“There is nothing stronger in the world than gentleness.” – Han Suyin

“We can’t help everyone, but everyone can help someone.” – Ronald Reagan

“What great thing would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?” – Robert H. Schuller

“You change your life by changing your heart.” – Max Lucado

“Your present circumstances don’t determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start.” – Nido Qubein

“A people free to choose will always choose peace.” – Ronald Reagan

“An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” – Mohandas Gandhi

“I think that people want peace so much that one of these days government had better get out of their way and let them have it.” – Dwight D. Eisenhower

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” – Mother Teresa

“A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge.” – Thomas Carlyle

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” – Buddha

“You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.” – Buddha

“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” – William Wallace

“I have a simple philosophy: Fill what’s empty. Empty what’s full. Scratch where it itches.” – Alice Roosevelt Longworth

“It is not length of life, but depth of life.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“It is an unfortunate fact that we can secure peace only by preparing for war.” – John F. Kennedy

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” – Harvey Fierstein

‘The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” – Henry David Thoreau

“The purpose of life is a life of purpose.” – Robert Byrne

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” – Mark Twain

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” – Carl Jung

“There is no coming to consciousness without pain.” – Carl Jung

“Follow that will and that way which experience confirms to be your own.” – Carl Jung

“While there’s life, there’s hope.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

“Your life is what your thoughts make it.” – Marcus Aurelius

“It is madness for sheep to talk peace with a wolf.” – Thomas Fuller

“It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“One cannot subdue a man by holding back his hands. Lasting peace comes not from force.” – David Borenstein

“Peace and friendship with all mankind is our wisest policy, and I wish we may be permitted to pursue it.” – Thomas Jefferson

“Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Peace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew.” – John Greenleaf Whittier

“Peace is its own reward.” – Mohandas Gandhi

“Peace is a journey of a thousand miles and it must be taken one step at a time.” – Lyndon B. Johnson

“Peace is liberty in tranquillity.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

“Peace is rarely denied to the peaceful.” – Friedrich Schiller

“Peace is when the time doesn’t matter as it passes by.” – Maria Schell

“Power to the peaceful!” – Michael Franti

“The most valuable possession you can own is an open heart. The most powerful weapon you can be is an instrument of peace.” – Carlos Santana

“The real and lasting victories are those of peace, and not of war.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Those who are at war with others are not at peace with themselves.” – William Hazlitt

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” – Virginia Woolf

“You don’t have to have fought in a war to love peace.” – Geraldine Ferraro

“A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.” – Honore de Balzac

“Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives.” – C. S. Lewis

“At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.” – Plato

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu

“Can miles truly separate you from friends… If you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there?” – Richard Bach

“Come live in my heart, and pay no rent.” – Samuel Lover

“Do all things with love.” – Og Mandino

“Do what thou wilt is the whole of the law. Love is the law, love as thou wilt.” – Aleister Crowley & his Wife

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Judy Garland

“I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence.” – Theodore Dreiser

“I can live without money, but I cannot live without love.” – Judy Garland

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” – Daphne Rae

“I like not only to be loved but also to be told I am loved.” – George Eliot

“If you could only love enough, you could be the most powerful person in the world.” – Emmet Fox

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.” – A. A. Milne

“If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.” – Michel de Montaigne

“If you want to be loved, be lovable.” – Ovid

“Immature love says: ‘I love you because I need you.’ Mature love says ‘I need you because I love you.'” – Erich Fromm

“In love, the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two.” – Erich Fromm

“Love conquers all.” – Virgil

“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

“Love does not dominate; it cultivates.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible – it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could.” – Barbara de Angelis

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.” – William Shakespeare

“Love is always bestowed as a gift – freely, willingly and without expectation. We don’t love to be loved; we love to love.” – Leo Buscaglia

“Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.” – Peter Ustinov

“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” – Robert Frost

“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” – Aristotle

“Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.” – H. L. Mencken

“Love is my religion – I could die for it.” – John Keats

.

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“A Rose by Any Other Name” – Poetry by Lesley Michelle Patterson

Unwavering, the giant rose topples the base of the concrete seeming insurmountable,
let the beauty within us shine out for all to see and let it all be countable.
We’re all our own cherry-red scarlet flower, struggling to grow here in the cement,
even if we’re planted in the harsh, unforgiving world as some know it to be.
Let all of our souls cry out in beauty and raw truth,
of all that’s ever been done as it’s all been done before.
Time ticks on and friends grow older,
Seasons change, but the love doesn’t go colder.
for beauty lies within the eyes of the beholder.
Let unspoken sentiments that we whisper to our hurting hearts,

bring soothing sensations onto our minds, bodies, and souls.
Let them speak deep truths which require much understanding,
let us speak now or forever hold our peace, undemanding.
Two people are separate yes, but also are each two parts of the same whole.
I’ve never felt divided when I’m lulled away in your arms.
We’ve colored the horizon with tips of our Crayola crayons,
and subtly painted the watercolors of our truest emotions,
with scarlet red sunsets that will stretch on into forever.
It is here with you that I will myself to exist,
in this land without logic, lying within our happiness.
This is the dawn of all that was and ever will be,
with you and I to dance eternity away.
Let the unspoken words that linger on our tongues,
be so sweet and lavish that they require a translator just to inscribe our love.
The unprecedented love that we have for each other,
and that healthy self-love that we hear so much about.
Take my hand and let me lead you into night time’s promise,
that tomorrow will surely come a New day.
Relax within our evening’s star-speckled glitter and happiness,
as we trace the milky way and far away galaxies with our fingertips.
All in a vain attempt to understand, that we know not what comes tomorrow,
but even through the joy and the sorrow, let’s make it worth it.
Let’s open our hearts and minds to unknown possibilities,
and then we’ll leave the crowds cheering for more,
and asking what our surnames were again.
Even while no one understands, perfect understanding can be found,
if only we will listen to the pauses in between the words.
Those very same words that we tell each other more out of habit than anything else.
We don’t need to understand it or to know,
and we’ll still be here tomorrow when the sun hazes.
White-hot passion smolders within and without us,
and we’re left catching our breath in freshly grown meadows of “We told you so.”
Because we are both precious and unrelenting,
high and hopeful for the final act.
And only love can be spoken,
two hearts aching for something real.
An unworldly spiritual bond that we keep with ourselves,
and a promise to keep on living and loving forever and eternally.
A rose by any other name is just as sweet as those we were allowed to pluck as children.
Give up your sorrow and chase it away with shooting stars and keepsakes,
all in hopes of a better and worthwhile tomorrow where we can be together again.
a rose by any other name still blossoms just the same,
but some aspire for more than the other flowers.
Count the times that we’ve laughed as pearls of sand on an ever-whitening beach,
and throw some back for darker times when they’ll be much needed.
Lace your hands into mine and let us pray
for more light, for hope, and a clearer understanding,
that a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.

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