this anguished
wait for the
savior who
bleeds that
we may
live, but
we are
that savior
who must
bleed.
Rob Goldstein February 3, 2018 All Rights Reserved
this anguished
wait for the
savior who
bleeds that
we may
live, but
we are
that savior
who must
bleed.
Rob Goldstein February 3, 2018 All Rights Reserved
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I wrote a poem today that reminds me of this.
I had my husband read it and he didn’t know what my poem meant. It meant at thousand things, a thousand thoughts, stemming from one nightmare but ….anyway I was curious of your thoughts.
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It’s a dark poem with a lot of dense imagery. I found it confusing at first because it seemed to veer from dream space to politics but that’s not a bad thing; poems are meant to be re-read.
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What’s funny is that it had nothing to do with politics. Someone asked if the man on the hill was the president.
Or if I was against religion or questioned God.
I can tell you the dream.
I was taken to a place behind tons of doors where women and men were being tested on and tortured. They had lost themselves. I wanted to be saved. A man was in charge. He only cared about his materialistic things and his showy behavior and hid all of us behind closed doors that would never be set free. The dream ended badly but i didnt want the poem to so when i went for my walk with the dream residue then i saw the flower and the sky and i ended the poem differently than intended. I wrote the poem in. A way that people could interpret it religiously, politically, vaccines, whatever they wanted. It was a dark terrible hopeless dream where god was intermingled in promises. I was awake almost 2 days after that dream. Thank you for commenting. I just did a photo shoot of myself that shows how it feels to be in a flashback or ptsd moment. I will post the picture later tonight. It’s how this dream made me feel too.
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That sure sounds like the President, although that can be said of most pathological narcissists.
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It represented my brother who lived on a hill of the lake, the man who abused me who lived on a hill on the opposite side of the lake who abused me, my father who never protected me…..the men on that hill SUCK. You can toss in the president too
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Narcissists are truly all alike. It’s so weird.
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They ARE
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It’s strange–from the Donald Trump right on down to the landlady next door. Every last one of them pulls the same bullshit.
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And my neighbor and my family and the neurologist i saw. They are ALL. Carrying the same traits.
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I posted the images my daughter helped me create of what PTSD feels like. I feel you will understand them
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Amen to that. And the art, Robert, the skeleton is macabre.
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It’s a photo-shopped photo of a flyer and I suppose it is macabre; almost as macabre as watching a Russian operative wreak havoc on our government.
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Trolland Drumpkovski.
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Ha! Trolland Drumpkovski! That’s a great name!
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Your art is amazing! And the words… wow. Great duo.
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Thank you Christy! I always appreciate your visits and comments. You made my day!
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OH! Reading your comment back makes me smile so big 🙂
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🙂
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Such meaningful art…powerful words. Wow.
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Thank you so much.
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Loved your image.. and yes Robert, we are the ones we have been waiting for.. 😀 It all begins with changing ourselves. And Healing from within.
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We must have faith; but it is true that faith is action.
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It is… 🙂
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We have to save ourselves, nobody else is going to do it for us…
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Thanks for reading the poem. 🙂
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Yea, we have to be our own saviour, possibly. Superb creation, I love it.
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Thank you, Paula!
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Anything that starts with a Homo sapiens skull gets my attention. Nice.
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It’s amazing what you can do with a photograph of a flyer. Thanks for the Comment, Jacqui!
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In bleeding, we heal… good poem, Robert!
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Thanks Erika! We are the savior!
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Yes! We are!!
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Good one
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Thank you!
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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