Peek-A-Boo; I Really See You

ichas8440_Grqaphics_Peek-A-BooI really see you copySayings, slogans.  Letters with Graphics appearing on FOLKS chest.  Normally indicative of how the one wearing it feels.  My shirt, along with graphic depiction.  International symbol indicating “Stop“.  Subliminal suggestion, “Do Not Pass, Go or Engage In“.  Laid beneath the graphics, the words, “No B.S.“.  My crew, “We” unlike any anonymous members in representation of those other crews.  Along with our standing statement will be.  “I am The 22nd G, and I will not engage in, B.S..

All this inclusiveness found in anonymously pledged membership, to me is.  Counter productive.  An exploration in futility.  Consider if you will, accept something, run out and participate in a group whose focus is recovery from…  Whatever.  Only to have to keep verbalizing this.  “Hello, my name is”, (you fill in the name), followed by, “and I’m an alcoholic”, or.  Substitution on association, anything you want.

If this is a method of choice to absolve yourself of an addiction, I’m out.  This approach, probably designed and implemented by those guilty of something and believing if they transfer their guilt to another.  Somehow they’d be absolved.  Much like the professional whose bought into the concept that to fix anything, mask it.  My beliefs, don’t medicate me.  Don’t placate me with illusions. When anything is so damaging, remove it.   To bring an end to anything, acceptance of what it is you want away from is the first move. Second, understanding the components establishing denial, cause this is an area sitting there.  Tempting you to return with the quickness.

Following the first and second move, you proceed into full-blown recognition of why you are so ‘ucked up for allowing yourself to slip into oblivion from The Gate.

Hard realities?  Very much so, but.  Livin’ life isn’t what’s hard.  The hard part is dealing with all the B.S. FOLK keep circulating within.

To keep it nice on what I’m gonna share, let’s do it like this.  She, who was onto me, sat patiently.  From a distance, she was the essences of loveliness.  Eyes sparkled as she gaze out and about.  Watching others as they did what they do.  Then, appearing as if by conjuring, a male.  Morphs into place.  He walks up to her, words expressed by him, hit hard.  She, becomes lost in her sight.  Moves as if unsure of herself.  No longer wanting to witness this, psychological disrobing, I…  Reappear.

He, casually dressed.  Shoes worn without socks.  Showing classic signs of one with an oral fixation as he relentlessly sucks on a lolly pop, massaging his “After 5 Shadow”.  Stealing a look here and there as he tilts his sunglasses, revealing eyes overworked.  Yet, she misses all this and.  Falls to his invasive maneuvers.

I wanna say I gave him the name of “Frenchy” but.  That’d be a continuation of the B.S. I’m focused on in removing from my person.  It was the accent.  French in origin.  My conclusion with foreigners onto any soil, they luv the illustrious mis-conceptions others hold of ’em all over the world.  Frenchy, was no different than Mario the Spaniard.  When it came to seducing a woman, they read from the same PlayBook.

She, by what he said, allowed herself to be, sighted, identified, categorized and.  Manipulated into the place, giving him position to.  Well, play a part extracted from the story of Humpty Dumpty.  The Egg which fell down and had every attempt in being put back together again.  His words, cut like a Surgeon’s scalpel.  ‘Cept, he was a modern Surgeon, he didn’t come with anything physical, his tool of choice was high-tech.  Like a surgeon wielding laser technology.  His incisions wouldn’t be seen immediately and if he was as skilled as he assumed, those cuts would only be revealing to “the Cutter”.

She, wasn’t trash, waiting to be picked up.  She.  Was under me.  She.  Was with me.  When she confided in me, explained to me that Frenchy said her voice made her sound so much younger.  “Vibrant”, making him want to run and be with her.  She…  Felt violated and…  Al of this extracted because she assumed I had sent Frenchy based on an re-enactment of some sick role reversal.

She wasn’t violated.  She surrender herself and hadn’t even know it.  And I.  Sat quietly absorbing her every word and micro-expression.  She, who was with me, had.  In fact, been severely served by.  A master of mental manipulation.

Hummm, females, cerebral.  Males…  All the way physical.  But, during “The Hunt”, males can be extreme in cleverness.

Second Coming.  She, but another to put it exactly, told me about some youngin’s approaching.  Entering her space with  Eyes “Rushin'”, hands, indicating they had a desire to “Roam”, but.  She had no such interest.  Still, by the words they used to express their thoughts of her, she.  Felt…  Violated too.  Said she was way too mature to arouse interest from…  “Such young men.  They should be chasing women their own age.”  Did she feel I believed this?  Sometimes, many times, women speak in condescending ways.  This is a protective move.  Not to be misconstrued with snobbish, arrogant, or any of those other descriptive words.

Hummm, again.  As smart as women wanna be, men seem to trap them every time.  Could it be that women wanna hear something said by…  Man?  Not too concerned with who the man is as long as the statement is… Complimenting.

And I, during each of these “Comings”, didn’t assume the role of Capt’n.  Saving these damsels in distress. This is when I realized how focus One can be and driven by…  I like to refer to this trait as defined under humanity, but…  I’d be dabblin’ in B.S. again.  Humanity is not worrying about one’s legacy.  Humanity is knowing when to extend a sympathetic ear and when to show some, empathy.  But…  I’ve been caught up in placing so long I’ve misplaced my ability to…  Position.  Two factors required if you intend to live and not just exist.

In each of these occurrences I was fully aware of how these women felt.  Those micro-expression seen.  I’ve shown ’em time and time again before.  My mind, imprinted with graphic images of the muscle memory needed to re-create the same facial expressions.  ‘Cept.  I hadn’t let anyone control my esteem.  So…  Pain registered, the hurt was real, but.  I rose above the Drama comin’ my way.  They, weren’t able to.  Couldn’t and Wouldn’t.  And because of this, they were left, holding on of their mis-education, and succumbed.  Fell quickly whenever confronted with the likes of…  Someone with Frenchy’s persuasions.

Women, should they be compared to man?  No… Straight out no.  He and She are alike but not like.  I think this is the sexiness of our kind.  Gives that added incentive when seeking one for companionship and or all things inclusive.  Still, help has to be given and before the help is demanded.  Like preparing for something only to find out later, you really aren’t ready for the thing you thought you were…  Prepared for.

It was after each of these incidents I retreated into self.  Examined the whys and what fors in regards to who I had aligned myself with.  My conclusions.  I am skilled.  I will not be like the surgeon who can help his family but.  Because of some code, refuses to offer that help because of being too close emotionally.  I, will not be like the Preacher who.  Holds session in a tent, out in an abandoned field and.      Preaches to a sold out crowd yet.  Goes home and won’t help his own.  Those who want to know what he knows and why what he knows is so…  Powerful.

I‘ve said many times, I luv doin’ things on the level of Heir Master Frankenstein.  This isn’t to say, I accept stolen bodies and try to make one functional body out of the better parts of any body.  I…  Work on my body.  The one containing my mind.  The mind, is nothing more than an advanced processor.  Think computer.  I don’t leave home without it, and those around me.  Should practice the same.

These situations come out of a lack of self-esteem.  Mark the word “self”.  It begins within.  Not on the outside, but.  Within.  No one can give it to you and no one can, take it away.  The public orientation, indoctrinating you into your society as in “place” is what cause you.  The One developing, to morph whenever brought into a stressful situation.  Settling while conforming.  Mis-Education is a bitch.  Much like saying…  “Hi, my name is so and so.  I am a B.S.er.  What is  anonymous about this.  You’ve said who you are.  Defined what ‘cha are and with.  Please.  Wanna step up and out?  Remove yourself from the chains that bind.

Psssss;  I don’t do B.S., nor should you.  To think I was immune to what those with me felt, was to return to the land of B.S.  My place, the one together, we positioned ourselves within.  Was based on the “We”, not me.  I am not the product of a solo endeavor nor is anyone else.  Wrong was I and yes.  I said it.  Wrong in not feeling for either or ’em and.  Giving assistance where I knew it was needed.  Hummm, pushed right into the realm of, “Needs, Wants and Desires”, but.  That’s for another time.  See ya.

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