Stages of Burden

Stages of the Burden: This painting shows how the Burden/Weight of Abuse that began early in my childhood got heavier and heavier in my life until it Crushed me and I collapsed with the pain

By Gabriel Orion Marie
http://gabrielorionmarie.com

Wishful Crowd Funding Opportunity

Check out this link for trailers and opportunities to help Help support funding of short film on effect of rape. Link to site http://www.pozible.com/project/181738

Her Fathers Legacy

the girl huddled next to her school desk, covering her work quickly
uses the eraser three times, not getting it down, not understanding

--he will be there tonight -- I know you don't want to hear

write a story about menace she thought -- her task not healthy
it was hard to describe her life, her best friend not knowing

-- the fear will make you sick -- Quick turn away, leave the little girl alone

her mum not understanding, the sister she must protect, silent
hiding, waiting, running away, she huddled closer to her pen

-- trapped with him, his face will distort your memories -- Am I making you uncomfortable?

erasing more and more lines, it was the fear that got to her
but she must be strong, keep him away, while writing slowly about nothing

-- there is no escape, even if you try -- You cannot hear this, you say

and with the pen, she stopped, emotionless -- her pen down, shoulders hunched
she had nothing to write about, but rainbows and dancing in the sun

-- no one will believe you, to run you will just be returned - Well just stop reading

the menace had been that good, that precise
that even a little girl felt trapped -- when writing alone

he scared her to a point where it was easier to forget
and erase the page

the menace that is at every turn,

and leaves her chasing butterflies, in the fields

A Circle before Jail

Writing about the fairy circle is hard, she thought
It was an old tradition, passed down and down -- don't you have one?

-- a water tradition?

She would stand in the middle of her room
All painted in yellow, wearing a pretty dress, pigtales

-- perhaps a special saying?

Taking the dust from the bottle -- purple to be precise
May, I excuse you sir -- it had to be purple

-- special teddy bear -- am I reminding you?

She disappeared into her world of safety, her world of delight
Doing a fairy dust circle, sprinkling her childhood memory

-- Is was but years later

She remembered why, why the fairy dust circle was there
It was for the monsters -- for that ugly smiling one

-- Hidden in the cupboard, dark

Her fathers smile would bring her nightmares
Screams, of weird fright, illusions of the night

-- Nightmare under the covers, dare to be spoken

The circling fan, that made noises, praying
The creaks, squeals and whistles -- as she listened to his footsteps

-- Noises that go bump in the night, it was real

She would sit in her circle, protected
A childs' remedy -- a childs' delight, safe in her minds eye

-- Today in her office

Sits a circle painting, slowly she smiles
And she stares at it, softly -- as they walk into the room

Who I am -- is not for your amusement

I am not your amusement child, for when you are stressed or weary of the world
I do not look sexy or cute, do not entice anything out of me, with your sexual connotations


I am but a child, sitting there watching tv
Learning about the world, all of such eight, staring out the window


Not yet grown, not understanding that there is evil out there
And evil there laying on the couch -- watching me -- waiting, planning


For when the house is empty, ready to pray on me
Decisive, practiced, many a girl before me, and many after me


So I wonder, what went through in your mind, when you decided to violate my body
When you decided, what my life should be.


     Was it that you were stressed, like you told me so many years later, when I grew up
     Or was it just that you were a man -- weak, useless and cruel

Ritual Abuse Conference CT USA

http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/


August 9 – 11, 2013
DoubleTree near
Bradley International Airport
16 Ella Grasso Turnpike
Windsor Locks, CT

Internet conference information:
http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/

2012 Ritual Abuse Conference CDs are now available http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/2012-conference/

Conference Goals
- To help stop future occurrences of ritual abuse
- To help survivors of ritual abuse
- To name the groups that have participated in alleged illegal activities
- To unite those working to stop ritual abuse

Conference Schedule
There will be a small get together, deli dinner, dessert and early registration for pre-registered attendees only, on August 10, Friday evening. The conference will be all day on Saturday August 11 and Sunday August 12. Please check our conference home page for the latest conference schedule information. Some presentations will also be recorded.

The Cross

I saw a note today
In the middle
Of the road
It was not a simple note
It was a cross
Like one you put
In your Aunty's birthday card
A faux I love you
But this was no
I love you
This was a cross to
Remind me
Of the terror
Of the forgotten things
And how love
Can go horribly wrong
This was where
I was abused
And they marked it
With a cross.

My childhood memories

My childhood memories

Silent bird calls
Creaking houses
Noises from corners
She sits
Writing
On her notepad
Whirring of the fridge
Noises, coughs, beeps
From out the back
    She pauses to hear
    A door closing
    Footsteps
    Down the hall
    Walking forward
    Pausing
    Not scary
    Hiding looking
    For hiding spots
The fridge makes a noise
The birds stop
Birds flying outside
Sunlight drifts in
A deep breath
Difficult day
Eyes glinting
In the morning
    Hidden she is
    From his glare
    He cannot see her
    Under the bed
    She sits there listening
    Waiting
    Waiting for the footsteps
    To wander on down the hall
    Waiting
    Scared
    Nothing
    Surreal
Shadecloth
Shadows
Fireplace
Creaking of the walls
Silence
Humming of the fridge
Tv off
Light across the wire
    It continues past the door
    Into the kitchen
    Where there is no noise
    I wait
    Wait scared surreal
    Springs under the mattress
    Gazing outside
    Seeing no escape
    Hoping for escape
    Nothing there
    No one there
    But him
Dogs barking
In the distance
As I remember
Sitting here
My childhood memories

The bravest girl I know

For anonymous

You sat there listening
To a fifteen year old
Tell you tragic news
Of her father in jail


Because she put him there
And her family blamed her
And ostracised her
And her mother had taken to drugs


"She could no longer take it"
His constant raping of her
"She could no longer take it"
And now, she lived alone in hate

The End of a Smile

"Her home is the well
She is lost in the city
Of rain and water
I have dirt across my face
Staring into the night sky
And she blows
Dandeloin seeds
To the wind
As you smile"

The Girls Monster

A little girl
Walks up
And asks you -- yes you

Pulling on
Your shirt
There is a monster
Back there
She is frightened

She turns to you - yes you
And says
Can you help me

Face the monster
They don't believe me
That it exists
And I need
To see

And you turn - yes you
You turn and say.......

Quiet of the Room

From the quiet of the room
She writes
A little girl in pigtales
With all her might
She is scribbling in her diary
All her dreams
She is missing out all her screams
She is protecting those with
No words
And hiding under the covers
Quite disturbed
And quietly with her pen
She writes
Its all there, as she fights
Some extra horror that she
Knows
Her tears have come to blows
She has written for hours
And no one knows
Just horror stories
That no one sees
Her tear drops as you please
But when she goes to
Hand it on
All she says is
Who cares anyway
No one will respond

Soul to the Moonlight

   

Can you see it Dwelling within my soul That silent memory Hurting me internally And as I see it There trembling in its mystery I walk slowly And touch it, it burns me With a deep intensity that I run That I cry, and do not return And chose to forget its mystery And I sit down, with the flowerpots behind me And stir my teacup in the shadowed sunlight Many years later And notice my hand shaking It is the memory Resurfacing, just as I stir my tea And I forget And then as I plant the flower The following spring In the pots, the hot sun Causing beads of sweat on my forehead I notice my breath is gone Not because of the weather But the silent memory And as I watch the tv, I realise The memory does not go The memory will return And the only way to resolve it Is to show its Soul to the moonlight. Don't run from it, turn and face it.

You love you

     

Its the monsters breath Getting slight He is trying to get at you With all his might He is trying to scare you now As he did before And here you are trying to calm and more You thought this would be easy Not as hard as this You have been given ideas To return to bliss You dont want to lay vunerable To the monsters teeth And really you know Whats lying beneath But what if he's not, that monster in disguse What if he is just a nice kind man Who wants to help as he tries It is your filter, the monsters put on Effecting you now every year on The panic you feel, is the filters glare Reminding you of the times back there All I know now, is you can escape You can keep yourself safe Not put up with his hate You have the power, deep within That little girl loves you Your protecting her from sin So here is a flower She gives you for now She lets you cry, she lets you howl She lets you shake, she lets you ball She lets you walk, she lets you crawl You have held her hand, through the worse terror yet Something 99 percent of people would rather forget You can protect her, you can get through The courage is right there Because You love You.

She has a Fringe with a curl

The man stood in the corner, I was so scared

He handed out tickets, To the public beware

I saw just saw a glimpse, Not knowing him there

Surrounded by statues, Without such a care


And there he served little kids, And there he saw me

Sitting in the corner, As quiet as can be

I did not know who he was, But all I knew was his might

I began to feel those feelings, I had been hiding within my light


He gave his little speech, they cheered him such a store

He stood behind the counter, Watching you forever more

A little girl of five, You wander quietly

And take his little ticket, As quickly as can be


And the little girl, begins to fuss and beam

Constantly calling out, to her mummy in her screams

She picks up the knife, All covered in blood

The man falls to the ground, Red becomes the flood


And she just stands there, Her mummy comforts her so

Her shame now lost, Forever in a glow

And when the police question her, Security beware

The girl sits staring, at the teddy bear with care


And all she keeps repeating, Is just what he did

How he humilated her, The sin he hid

What he made her do, for that little ticket there

The torture that he gave, without such a care


And as the crowds dissapate, and wander back to home

The news stories told, repeated in chrome

And the police leave her be, For she is just a little girl

She jumps over skipping rope, she has a fringe with a curl

Ritual Abuse Conference CT

http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/



The 15th Annual Ritual Abuse, Secretive Organizations and Mind Control Conference

August 10 – 12, 2012

DoubleTree near
Bradley International Airport
16 Ella Grasso Turnpike
Windsor Locks, CT

Internet conference information:
http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/

2011 Ritual Abuse Conference CDs are now available http://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/2011-conference/

Conference Goals
- To help stop future occurrences of ritual abuse
- To help survivors of ritual abuse
- To name the groups that have participated in alleged illegal activities
- To unite those working to stop ritual abuse

Conference Schedule
There will be a small get together, deli dinner, dessert and early registration for pre-registered attendees only, on August 10, Friday evening. The conference will be all day on Saturday August 11 and Sunday August 12. Please check our conference home page for the latest conference schedule information. Some presentations will also be recorded.

Such

He was just a bad writer, not knowing what to do

We had a chat, a talk about writing too

And thats where I left him, I could not beware

For it reminded me of the past, that awful stuck lair


And I waited for a while, uncomfortably long

I thought he challenged me with another, feeling so strong

I got a bad impression, was he just like those guys

Would this happen again, I said, ever so wise


And I was told people would help, but I gave up there

For if you grew up with it, they don't really care

Would you wait and wonder, just what will happen next

Will they force you again, force you to have sex


The debate such continues, alone in your head

That old mode of thinking, sometimes you would rather be dead

For its what my dad did, many years ago

Reliving itself in this chatting, ever so slow


I get trapped, I run, I get trapped again, cannot escape

I remember back when I scream, I get upset, I repeat the words; that hate

A little girl crying out just waiting to be heard

Unsure what to do, feeling unheard


For the past replays itself, in your head

Just as you learnt to tie your shoelaces

Or eat crust on your bread

You learn how to relate, with your mum and dad

And there it repeats again and again making you sad


Not sure what to do, not sure what is said

I suppose you just have to trust that thought in your head

And here I am wishing again to forget the past

So AGAIN, I wont have to face this, as it sits and lasts


I can't give you the answers, I have not figured it yet

For I was treated with misery with utter regret

But once I break free, I will understand it then

I know I will get over it, with the help of such friends.

Ice creams are only for Angels

Wandering, through the shopping center
She picks a little flower from the
Garden floor
She wanders up to the stall owner
Near his clown trailer, to play
"Win a prize, Win a prize" he says
"Win a prize, win a prize" he says

And you watch, from a distance
In a dream, not really paying much attention
Studying the flower in her hand
You turn your back, if for an instant
And you notice the clown, once
Content, now his face is a tear

Watching the little girl
You have seen her drop the flower
Play with the bottom of her skirt
Twirl and dance away
Lost in her vision,
As she plays and plays

Watching the clowns as they spin
Back and forth, their face stuck
In an internal rhythm
Back and forth
Back and forth

And as you watch her
Twirl, Where are her friends?
She is alone
And in a blink of an eye, your downward gaze
She is gone; the clown sad and lost

And there she is
Screaming, blonde, crying
Tears streaming down her face
Her mother
Crying.

"Where is my daughter"
"where is my daughter"

The clown disappeared, and all you can describe
Is the face, and his tear
And the van
But the precise moment, your
Downward gaze, moved
You were a stranger, watching a girl, dance

And you wander away
Not knowing what to do
For really you can only describe
The simple scene
And remember this
As, Icecreams are only for Angels