Raw

Warning bad language, sexual violence whilst under the influence ofvwine with a lined stomach.

The full moon is such a dreary thing. It's in capricorn tomorrow! My son is capricorn so I affiliate with that but not the full moon! So get dressed in your gowns with hoods! Me I just know it is the womb about to menstruate.im not concerned with punctuation, spelling or anything! And I'm putting in another exclamation no editing because it is so.

A long time ago I was born. I had the planets tell me what I was here for, not the world! So as I write quickly and my battery is at 9 per cent, see I follow some rules. I was conditioned that conditioning forced me as a square peg to fit in a round hole. Yep, hysteria was present from the start! Im really enjoying putting exclamation marks and and guess what I'm not going to edit heck no! It's raw.

Now I did not want to put an exclamation mark at the last sentence because I did not want to! The fact is that artists where bird in the matrix but are not part of the matrix. It's true, we did not come here to comfort you with the childhood reading of Dick and Dora. That was the Australian first reader's story, Dick the hero, who was a boy seemed to be resilient, but Dora and thank God there's auto correct to give me a capital D for Dora fell in the mud and so did her doll, Dora. What a way to grow up Dick had it good but Dora was clumsy.

Now I'm at 8 per cent. I should have spelt out e-i-g-h-t instead of 8 but I did not want to. I suppose that devastates the more refined but I learnt artist's learn the rules and then break them! I love that exclamation mark its a sort of funky the old school we are all moving forward a sort of stoic humour I guess.

In reality, it is the dark moon that one's need revere. The new moon is about possibilities, even probabilities. It sort of breaks that she'll, in hebrew it is the klipot. The she'll that breaks to reveal the bird cage. That ol' bird cage that gave everyone food and water where you had to sing your song cage. A sort of venercular or some word thst sounds like thst to make the word safe. The safety that shells off one's darkness, one unable to handle at a certain time which helps the present life but makes it restrained and restricted. It's ok to be like that but at sometime one needs to make their wings strong. Even the reproach and heckling of wild free birds does not stop the comfort of a guided cage.

I was saving this for my novel, which I.probanly will never have the time to write and although raw I have rewritten in a poetic form because it sat in me for years. It came to my canvas but I felt it too controversial and denied my emotional accessibility to give it to an ungrateful world, a world that wanted pleasure not experience.

So for the ritual of a dark moon I write a baptism. As a young woman I was naive and believed in God. I was simple and a butterfly crushed by the masculine old school believing I had power. And the power was true at the time , but unidentified but in the feminine it takes the subtle bodies to manifest the reality years layer. Years of unnecessary pain and misfortune triggered by sneering male dominance which is now dissolving.

Ppl want to communicate, they want to be transparent .Well I put the phone into electricity so I have 10 per cent.

My name is Yolanda, a sort of whimsical name but it's mine and you can talk to me online, if you wish, to think of a better name for me but that is what it is.

So the baptism occurred for me in a remote Australia creek, no bullshit. I had dated thIs bike dude. He made my hair stand on end. His face was relaxed but I noticed his upper arm muscles were tense not to mention h is hands. His fingers long and clutched was a red flag but I tried to be nice. I wa the perfect victim ignoring my feelings!

You see that last exclamation mark makes me feel confident as I learnt and it made me stronger. Well I did not listen and he came to my place watched me fold the washing and I started to think he was ok, he started to infiltrate my defenses.

Long story short I ended a pillion riding through twisting country roads. Leaning to the left as we were 20cm perpendicular to the road on a hairpin curve. This continued through the country road.

Having a wind bath, that is the rushing of cold wind thru my thin jeans and sweater invoragated my deep need to escape from the religious sect that overpowered me as a bad woman whose marriage failure and single parenthood was my fault. As vout dates loomed my mid wanted freedom far away from my frail mental health and the lack of confidence that had me believing my black and blue body escape was all my fault. I felt his danger but I did not care.

The bike stopped and I saw a beariful mountain stream. I kept my distance but he pulled me close. Country people talk and he had been at the pub down the road from me, so I guess he knew something. When he kissed me I pulled away. That anger I saw in his body tore my top off me. He yelled, ' you're not special'

I found myself in the water. Maybe I ran there to cover.myself. Buddhist state water has consciousness and I believe that is true. I was in the womb were my mother did not want me, boys were important, more valuable for working on the farm. I and my child were just mouths to feed and herd off when we had pimples to be married.

At that time, in the water I realised I had made a mistake. The water surrounded me as he pushed into me. I gasped as the surroundings pushed out my breath and plunged into my lungs. A part of me flew away like a frightened bird. He was angry. I heard men over 50 years sometimes need the ecstacy and adrenalin of rape to be functioning and figured he was one of them.

Above head surfaced a crow hovered above me. It struck him in the eye., saying, "This is my beloved daughter in whom I'm well pleased". He shook he ran. I remember seeing the motor bike in the distance. I don't really know how I walked. I felt disorientated. I put my muddied sweater on and rolled my dirty wet jeans onto my legs and forced them up to my waist.

I was lost. What was originally was a euphoric bike way was now a disillusioned wander. The sky was dark and I followed the sounds of owls and crickets. I vomited a few times too, I thin that helped my hearings to find home wherever that was.

The world seemed a hostile place with my secret. The secret was I had not listened to myself. I knew the police were dirty involved with drug dealing and would laugh at me a person with mental health problems or bash me up. If I persisted I knew I would lose my child.

I told a friend who had cautioned me. He hugged me fighting disapproval and clutching my suffering. I guess that healed me.

But now I'm glad I owned my error to not second guess myself. I also know when I faced my darkest self I had power, not to act on the darkness, rather to acknowledge that self, that repression. I can paint beauty because of that. I can, because what life throws at me there is a dark feminine moon that says, "This is my beloved daughter in whom I am well pleased". Forget the evasive dodgy main verbatim of the world, be who you are with all your flaws, reach out to genuine people and find peace. The world is not about who you body is, what your job is... No that is superficial. So as the dark moon approaches see if you have the answer that you are also loved when you struggle, fail. It's ok, hopefully the world will keep changing.