Let’s Play Fortune Hunt

Dante reserved a special place of infamy in the inferno for those base angels who dared side neither with evil nor with good. Peace is ardently to be desired, but only as the handmaid of righteousness. The only peace of permanent value is the peace of righteousness.

So let’s lighten things up a bit for the sake of the children,  shall we?

Let’s play a Celebrity Match Up kind of game.

Because some of you have critiqued my match up games as being far too complex and darkly disturbing.

And I readily agree.

At times my life has been that way for me as well.

Therefore I have eliminated some of the cards in this round (the more obvious players) and those of you who have held my cards in your own hands, for far too long.

That will free up all of our hands, for better pursuits.

Girls just wanna have fun, even those in the 97th percentile.

Please help me out here, fam’ of mine.

I’m having parent-ally induced blockage, but keep in mind I have included the innocent, mismatched or victimized in this selection.

Because no one escapes anyone’s deathbed decree, regardless of whom you have decided to cloister inside your house to suppress it, minimize its volume, or it’s import, reduced like innocuous scrapings, on a frozen sheet of glass.

Never make an accusation, until you know all the facts.

You only know what you’ve been told about me.

But I’ll give you a tip, said a wise man.

And I’m not talking about my lover here.

Because I’d never underestimate his fantastic abilities.

She said she had her way with him in a barn.

That didn’t sound like him.

And she said he molested her.

That didn’t sound like him either.

I could never sleep over Valerie’s house as a child.

The sound of the dripping tap kept me awake all night long.

And when Val came to visit I loved her so, but she laughed that I’d risk my own life for a butterfly.

You see it had gotten in the way of my bike, as we raced down the hill.

I still love the woods.

I wonder, does she?

Or if she ever did, as much as me?

The papers say Dad was married before, but I can’t find her image.

The one who was not really abused by Nazi’s.

That’s just what she said.

And there were no “religious sisters singing”.

One could laugh at the world better, if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with it’s brutality – D H Lawrence.

Greetings from Uncle John.

(Who will always be Real Daddy to me.)

(I love you, Bell.)

I love you too, Ju Ju.

See you on Christmas Morning.

(I love the sound of your Christmas chimes, Dad.)

(Larry and Mom hear them audibly.)

I love the sound they make myself.

Thank you for giving me back my voice, baby girl.

Are you my baby?

(Yes I am, always will be.)

Johnny will say please.

Raymond will thank me.

And David and Steven will sleep better at night.

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Pillow Talk

chicken-farm

in a shed

he was dead

he pulled up rank

like a bird

sitting on a duck

with feathers in its hand

they’re not getting along

because of the symptoms

of the hen on animal farm

shove it up a horse’s mouth

there’s something to talk about

for me

when I have a voice again

thanks to you

he never did ask you anything

about being smart

he just said you were intelligent

I can sit on the bed

right beside you

telling him how to spell

now that’s funny as hell

 

My Father Speaks

This is the house where my untreated delusional mother was isolating herself in medical neglect, occasionally found wandering through the woods.

When I posted up no hunting signs on my mother’s property, Marshall made vague threats to cause bodily injury to me, the remaining nondelusional current inhabitant of this home. 

Marshall also sent pizza to my mother’s address a few months ago (around the time her lean was bought I believe) instructing the delivery boy to insist her house was “his” house.  I asked Dad about this in my mind, like a prayer.

I don’t know what that was

that was offensive

that ain’t right

no, she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping

Roseanne was supposed to be sleeping

peanuts

cyber crimes division

I mean what the hell

Gary Indiana

San Diego

lots

it’s secret

classified

what you’ve done for me

Fort Knox

dad-at-picnic-table

What my Father Whispered in my Ear

they’re talking about me all the time now

we’re working our way

we don’t even have a house

house

they passed away

they passed away

they (past) away

last night at three o’clock

in the morning (mourning?)

[*3:00 is in Brazil on the Military Mass clock I found that belonged to my father he used in the war, plus around the time yesterday I was laying on his grave crying and praying to God for him, that his voice would be heard]

talk

talk

he then raped me

he shot him in the head

he blamed the gun man

talk

talk

he killed the case

so he could now

walk

walk

In the Most Holy Names of Jesus and Mary may the people who did this to my father and his family get justice served, no more, no less.

 

One More from Dad

Talk

Talk

it relates within the business

of saving souls

it feels so good

everything imploded

it all makes sense

the closest one I can get to

is the one for me

and I think that I’m the proof

give him a peasant salary

and a liquid diet

because he won’t be eating bricks

no more

that’s exactly what he’s going to do

confused

refuse(d?) to come in

they can’t pull him out of a hole

the adjuster

foreign currency

spanish croissants

boys will be boys

hot air balloons

no sir charge (Searge?)

they’re talking about me

all the time now

we’re working our way

we don’t even have a house

house

they passed away

they passed away

at three o’clock in the morning

(3:00 is Brazil on the military mass clock and around the time early this morning I started posting my father’s words.)

 

My Father Regarding Mom’s Neighbors…

aiming hunting weapons at the Troxler estate, house, and their stated threats to harm it’s inhabitant:


I don’t know what that was

that was offensive

that ain’t right

no, she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping

Roseanne was supposed to be sleeping

peanuts

cyber crimes division

I mean what the hell

Gary Indiana

San Diego

lots

it’s secret

classified

what you’ve done for me

Fort Knox

And now, I am supposed to be sleeping (I mean literally) so I’ll try to avoid asking Dad any more questions in my head through my prayers, at least for a few hours…

Duty to Warn all Families & Caretakers of the Mentally Ill

The property tax and confiscation scam unfolds.

 

But I neglected to add in the final silent message (I do not hear audible hallucinations) from my sainted father.

Right after he said

call in for supervision

he said

know of course, you are in no real danger

Then just last night I heard (silently, in my dreams once again)

no one will be killed

despite the many criminal, direct, vague and implied death threats Mom and I have received from Sheriff Kenneth LeMaster, his buddies in crime,  Veteran Medical Center psychiatrists and doctors, an elder “care” attorney, a nursing home director, and even a scheming Jefferson County priest named Dom Daniel Oppenheimer, and those buying up the leans on Mom and Dad’s estate land.

You see, I’m not the delusional one, and neither was my father.

My father did not have “severe dementia” (even though the Martinsburg VAMC changed his medical records, to reflect this).

Daddy was a genius to the day he died, despite suffering global aphasia (loss of the language center in the brain) after an assault on his life (and property) that manifested as a stroke.

Follow me?

Mom LIED when she told people and had it written in her own medical records, that it was I who suffered from mental illness (not her).

Then Dad said

He’s like (your?) paw paw figuring it out.

(reference to my criminal investigator)

I believe he’s a genius too.

LeMaster, not so much.

Master of Shit.

He’s up to his eyeballs in it.

Go team Little Shepherd Cuisine!

Write in something about being right to leave it on my daughter’s lap.

They are calling in a case against mom 

Mom still refers to the time I had to file a mental hygiene petition on her just to get her aid as the time I got her “arrested”.

Someone told her I accused her of committing a CRIME,  not being mentally ill, when she was driven to and from the police station by a cop, for her “trial” to be heard, exacerbating her paranoia against me,  her loving daughter (and Mom’s simply conscientious caretaker) who saved her life when she was having a heart attack (and Mom didn’t even know it.) 

Mom’s state appointed “lawyer” and “psychiatrist” (a state employee at the sheriff’s office) told me over the phone it was not the mental hygiene court hearing, heard no medical evidence that I brought with me during the court proceeding to get Mom aid, yet then told me surprise, surprise,  it was one.

They told her it was she who was “sound in mind and body” (over and over again) then escorted Mom home to continue dying, gassing and fueling her anosognosia and now dangerously accelerated paranoia against me.  They told me to wait until I found Mom dead on the floor before calling 911 again, or had a visible and bleeding stab wound.

fleeing from his (John Troxler’s) daughter

as if his (Larry, my confused brother’s?) life depended on it

show (when) someone who isolates in medical neglect is (it’s?) called (untreated) schizophrenia

not criminal

and we shouldn’t have to have a mental hygiene petition

to figure it out

to get them aid in the first place

exacerbating their illness

 

For I love my Pop, but I ain’t no ordinary tart.

 

Therefore, I refuse to let myself or my father be treated like one.