Pater, Pater, Pumpkin Eater

I'm a gonna do with this post what I haven't been doing, and that is to edit it. I'm also going to edit the last few posts as neither the poetry nor the writing have been living up to what I expect, and I'm sure what the readers look forward to.

Parents
Pain-Prayer
Shame
Anti-Establishmentarianism
Fear and Change


Fear prevents honest communication among people. The pressure to know life as I prefer it (rather than as it is) derives from the knowledge that no one can provide happiness without asking for love in return. This quid pro quo, if you will, may seem an obvious fact of life, but to me, great difficulties have arisen in relation to asking for and giving love.

Fear that people have power to alter my destiny at their will and behest has led me to avoid allowing myself the time or the energy to accept and rejoice in the destiny I have chosen (living in this body).

There are many people who attempt, through whatever means they can find, to love and be loved, but fail because some part of them feels that they do not deserve to receive love.

Certainly this has been true for me.

The abuse of children by parents is inexcusable, particularly abuse that stems from emotional neediness on the part of the parent, attempting to recreate in the child the parent of the abuser, alternating blame or even violence with needy requests for love.

I know for myself that I have relied on my friends to provide for me parent figures to alternately depend on and blame for the condition of my life that I have feared to accept for what it is -- fear of love based on fear of a person who can only be happy by playing a big game. That game is, how do you feel, Mrs. Peel? I deny life because life is my way to sing. And I can only sing when I'm practical. Practicality needs a rose and a rose is love and beauty. Beauty needs friends, but that's the friendship of the Goddess. I want her to live. I need to know she's my angel. I'm afraid to get that hard fragrance: bravery and prayer are friendly to things that give hope -- those "errors that tried me", and I wanted her, the Goddess, to be Bruce.

Treat me like a bitch.

Be nice and be fabulous.

Yours, Julia Murray, a poison pen.