Our Super Moon cell pics NOTICE THE ORB artifact

The orange morning pics were on 11/15/16 and the night shots were 11/16/16. The 11/16/16 is where the round artifact flies around.

 

I put some lenses on a couple of pics to clarify the size and density (if possible with a cell phone).

 

 

Haven Dreaming

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Drifting weightlessly awhile dreaming lucidly seeing

Floating through halls of granite having huge columns 

Touching cold stone walls filled with ancient lights

Knew momentarily, I was transported somewhere else

I studied the writings and carved pictures on the walls

Reading a story of humans caught within an earthen warp

But, here a palatial ruin, not foreboding, and oddly grand

Felt pleasure and comfort, felt familiarly, as if, I was home

The temple held temples, spirits ~ awaiting souls

A ride through the cosmos in order to find their own

And meanwhile awaiting the catalyst who transports

Watched myself drifting in this palatial mausoleum space

Recognizing old ~ old character beings, I’ve known

In another place for certain; however, this was our womb

Until the time of birthing thus taking flight combusting into life

Here we gathered, quietly awaiting, until our mother said

And this cold monumental temple is our place

I recognized the carvings and the silent grace

And one day, will return and unite with my family

A peaceful dream experienced, finding my haven 

©2016 Bonnie jennings All Rights Reserved

End of Summer 2016 Poetry

The majority of poems posted on this post are from a poetry site on FB called ‘A Poet’s Haven’ hosted by Alan Boyles. 

I hope you will enjoy!

 

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Remembering Wales

The aromas of luxurious greens adorned the ruin

And wandering up the stairs had intense feelings

Chills and goosebumps and Erector Pelli presented

The closer the emerging, the more intuition feelings

Here I’d been, in this place along ~ long time ago

The whispers of distant voices and conversations

Remembered laughter and thought of the dancing

Beer, wine and silver goblets, and sheer elegance

Gentleman in kilts, and fair maids with bosoms

Cajoling till dawn, Oh, the legends ~ long gone

And now Butter Cups adorn the stairs leading up

To a place once reserved for men of Highlanders

And, The charitable Sisters of Dawn, tended by day

Oh, but that was ancient centuries now long forsaken

Here I walk, three hundred years past such history

Visiting ghosts, and wondering could we have passed

Each other again, some later time and place, so aghast

Venturing another lifetime, could they’ve too ~

Will we meet again, at this ruin on a hill?

 

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A Moment

Momentarily, de jevu flashed as erroneously remembered

This castle amongst foliage and humongous lizards

Oddly familiar, the senses anticipate relevance

To a time untamed, yet wildly passionate

Where fair maidens surrendered to kings impassioned

And the jungle seems unexciting after all the eras

And lost was the drunken music, beer, and enibriation

No decadent laughter heard, no reveling “bottoms up!”

Just me standing reverently, at the nevergreen years

Ghosts that linger, and faint voices past

And prayerfully, I turned around in my tracks


 

 

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In 1745, the apothecary

Time stands still, peering at the past

The chemists lived making potions

Between dust and rats

Gadgets like compasses hung

Amidst glass vials and bronze knobs

Keys to hidden compartments

Silver ladles and candelabras

Joseph Black isolates CO2

An odd phenomena of “fixed air.”

The healers of the early ages

The fearful labelled witches

And, often then burned

 


 

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The Bird

Perching on a window seal

With quell and paper imaging

Distracted by a thought

Exploring the unique meanderings

Of an early morning creation

Just sitting at the window

A bird catches my sight

Staring the feathered sparrow

Seems to ask a crumb, I eat

And my writing takes another path

Because a little bird entered my thoughts

The story then changes

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

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History

Ions pass and people die

But books left behind time and death

The future remembers our ghost that linger

Some will cry reading the pasts recorded

In romance, in texts, in diaries and Bibles

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


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Each life, a story within a story.

A book with moving pictures

A book who’s ending, we write

Lavender and blue berries in a wooden bowl

Chocolate and cinnamon and aromas galore

Visual images, aromatic delusions, a memory

Perhaps scenery, placed within our energy

Recording the goodness of bounties

Mixed with human kindness

A life desired so simple

So fragrant

synergies

 

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A word arises, “do!”

Sending norepinephrine whirling

Straightway to be

In utter confabulations

A mind unrestful

Held captive by demonic suggestions

 


 

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A mountain stands, so climb

Exhilaration, reaching the summit

Peace, before the descent

Pray, few rocks and cliffs present

The valley has green fresh grass

A lean stream of faith abounds

And God lets an eagle soar

But, the eagle will too, rest in the valley

 


 

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The Woman

 

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Gracefully twirling and juggling umbrellas

Black gown adorning in the street

Entertaining those watching and for show

But mostly throwing because she wanted

 


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Greys

The tall Grey state watching for the right time

Were they asleep and how about the dog

Kneeling and waiting the alien found the time

To snatch the abductee causing all to be blind

 


 

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The Lyricists 

Instead of talking she sang songs

She spoke in riddles and rhymes

A lyricist in the making, she crested

Tunes and rhymes, simply making music

 


 

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Thank you? Hah …

I’m finished, done the game is over

Go home, go away, the dramas a bother

I played for the fun, but instead it staled

Find another player, I quit, I failed.

Now, go away.

 


 

Drowning message

One last quest before she drowns

To tell the truth by sending hounds

Written on waves for one to find

Her mysteries of dying at his hands

 


 

Oops !

I slipped on a banana peal

And landed on my fricking noggin

Then off I sailed to wonder-place

Visiting dead friends and shaking skeletons

And, that banana peal was

My departures from my past life

Into the present state of sunder

It’s Heaven

 


 

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Rem sleep, illusive and vivid, the clouds

Walking on no tightrope but on parasols

And underneath the rain fell, someones tears

But, I was on top of the world, skipping along

Closer to the ground there’s an emotional song

Sung of heartbreaks and loves lost from there

But we who walk on parasols do solemnly agree

There are no fears, no tears, no reasons to cry

So mama, know, I’m skipping on rainbows in the sky

 


 

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Life Force

I meant to have the purest spirit

As to look angelic, and holy

Thus in my life, affording this

And death be eluded by this raven

This raven stands collecting my life

It’s ears hear not my prayers

But that fowl governs life or death

Then, grace may it be aware

Humbly petitioning noble men

Mantaloo, I seek with supplications

Request that this bird flee

Graciously give me rest, I seek

That a Raven refutes Elohim’s designs

On this shall I trust my existence

Sucking the elements of force home

In turn, the Raven, will take flight

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

Excessive People

A runaway wild stallion’s reins, tis difficult steering

But, a person living with excessive runaway behaviors

Far more dangerous than a rebellion

 


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About Being a  “………?”

Why can’t we understand our presents are different?

My box is not like yours

And yours is foreign to me


 

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The Shaman and The Bird

From Quito they both grew

From nature, from legends

God who heals, man and bird

 


 

Confessions

She sat under a tree of prayers and confessions

Pondering “her sins,” and nothing to calm her

Left alone, a long white gown, sits under a tree

She could have, should have, and if she’d known

A pleasant path filled only with passion and songs

But, instead, she confesses the plight of her love

Because she dreams of another, that can’t be had

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©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

Freedom

Old iron steel locks rusted an corroded

imprisoned a soul, once long ago

But, in the cell of the lost and lonely

A green shrub of freedom from slavery

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

Garden Centaurs

Monuments carved along a gardens paths

inshrined Neptune and Posiedons headstones

No longer over seas they rule, but in Earthly walls

To subdue their fury forevermore. and ravages

Facing each other for eternal battles

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

“Hi, I’ve been waiting. You’re here.”

She stands at the French Door

He hesitates, but he eventually enters

He is quite. Eyes catch eyes

He has something secretive to say

She is nervous. She knows something

He must speak, he loves her

But ~ their future is not assured

He must tell her. He will.

 


 

Finished

“You’re just another story. It’s over.”

He says, “Please. Listen. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, I won’t play anymore.

The story’s over. Today is done.

And, tomorrow a new fresh day,”

She pushes him out the door.

“C-ya. Never come back, no more.”

 


 

The Circle of Life

In the vacuum of her femininity

From her vestibule induces pheromone ambushes

There lost in a sea of love and need

The swallowed stamen waves a flag

As the stigma grows, from the tree

Of life

 


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Norepinephrine

That flashlight stays on ninety-nine percent of the time

Norepinephrine makes the mind wild to take flight

However, entering dark places, needs light for sure

The enemy is best caught when unseen and obscure

Quieting the mind, using silent breathes to watch

Hiding, lurking somewhere standing in the dark

 


 

The Door

Doors baring, but without certainty nor warning

Perhaps a dismal picture or maybe a red thrown

Where two distracted by any since of remorse

Two who lane in a castle once, there’s an exit door

A lodging whence knights dined and maid’s bare

Breasts under corsets, bulging adipose this away

Bellowing beer breath and banter on testosterone

Sweating, sweltering nights, away from home

Once was a door, no guilt nor shame

 


 

Vagueness

Summer played out but there was no heat

Delighted, we were, of the blessed relief

Payed not attention to the news

Drinking lemonade midday at noon

No sweltering, no complaining. Music

Only blissful elegant romantic swoons

And the TV news played on bemoaned

The trumpet called, some heads buried

Preoccupied with love, lust and fretful worry

Yet ashes are knee deep, and smoke lingers

Vultures circle as men tarry, and Fall arrives

Men wonder aimlessly, missing a brother

Prepare for Winter, Spring is a long way

On deaf ears, the harbingers speak of dismay

 


 

The Ballerina

Thinking deeply, traveling somewhere else

The ballerina sat meditating on steps and bows

Portraying a swan, or perhaps Cinderella

An elegant young woman, as fair as a dove

Just simply envisioning the nights performance

Seeing the ballet, creating an enormous

Love for music and delights of poetic dance


 

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The Witching Tree

We came upon a witching tree

Passing through the earie woods

Where it’s said, “You’ll not return.”

Advised, not go there, “Just know better!”

We had to enter anyway, just because

Upon the witching tree stood we, two

Hackling banters like crows, she was

Shivering we paralyzed, like daddy said

Then Brown Nellie our old cow came

And ate the hay from the witches head

And all that was left from Nellies treat

A stump of rotten wood, a fall leaves that shed

 


 

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Imaging Life on a Rocking Horse

She rode Little Red, taming a mustang

Women and horses have a fling

It starts young the knowing ahead

Toddler girls must tame Big Red

 


 

I prepared a table for you

Even in the presence of your enemy

Perhaps the bread and the wine will

Grow our friendship once again

And we can begin again?

 


 

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The Red Laced Dress

She wore a red laced dress

Cherry Red, to be for certain

And seen running through the streets

Barefoot, white, fair and so afraid

Her face bore terror and escape

From who she was running, dunno.

Perhaps a rapist, perhaps The Count

Perhaps she was running from herself


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Welcome to my home so quaint

In the forest of animal saints

Sweeping up my dirt floor

Tidying up for the inviting door

But, please come in and sit awhile

I’ll put the kettle, oh just move that pile

Lets talk of rhymes and poetry of old

We’ll talk of pirates and men who hold

The most pleasant dreams in our lives

And we shall smile into the night

 


 

The Portrait

The portrait girl came alive

The museum relics under manifolds

He painted her wrong, she’s distrurbed

He captured the dark side

And for this she is pissed

She must change things

Especially her image

 


 

God Sees

Twas such a pitiful sad expression

On the fair maiden in question

Her beauty stretched beyond most

But how she saw herself, jost  (to jost, hide behind)

Did not see her beauty but

Saw a clown who wore frowns

Tears fell upon her dainty cheeks

If only she could see what God sees


 

Self Love

 

Poetry, she is a poetic masterpiece

A beauty with talent, she is, as the men say,

“Divine.”

And, she knows this about herself, as you see

Selfies and self portraits are commonly place

She captures her loveliness,

And she’s sure of that

 


 

I am not your property

And you aren’t mine

You are yourself

And I am me

Together in life

We allow each to be free

I am not your possession

And you are not mine

You are God’s

And that is all

We are gifts

We do not rule

We do not have our way

We share even at the end of a day


 

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The Day My Mother Died

Felling disjointed and disassociated 

Trying to put my pieces together

Let’s see, this one goes here

And that one there

Oh, my

Such hard work getting pieces to fit

Ever days a battle of my wits

Sometimes I want to give in

The pieces of my puzzle

Will the last piece end?

My life


 

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Good Night Poetry to Jacob

Standing on a platform

Somewhere between awake and sleep

Jacob spreads his arms, as if, to leap

Taking the plunge to somewhere else

Refreshing the body, refueling self

And over the treetops Jacob flies

The air so pleasant as he passes by

And up and away to The Milky Way

Zooming pass stars into outer space

The boy can fly using utter grace

And you can too, if you spread your wings

Onto that platform, ready? One two three

And off you go to where your dreams go

Up over Mars and flitting ti and fro

And soon, it’s time to come back home

Carefully landing and your travels unknown

Now your reading for living the human way

And when night time comes

Say goodbye to day

And lift your wings

Taking you to play

Where you yearn and often pray

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 


 

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Lord Earl Grey

‘Twnings, Earl Grey’  is such the man

Sipping tea on Sunday afternoons with him

He’s dressed in Twill and wearing a red riding coat

He takes time for a scone and an elegant English chat

While taking off his houndstooth cap, he sits primly

Across from where she sat demurely

“What are you reading, this rainy day?” He asks

She answers, “Oh, Emily Bronte, a little play. Just that.”

“Well, carry on… I’ll bid you goodbye.” He nods

“Oh, please come again, tomorrows alright.”

She sips the single drop left in her cup

And closes the pages slowly non-abrupt

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

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Creeping Door

That heavy wooden door opened itself!

A light shown on the stone stepping path

It seemed harmless, but really don’t know

Should I enter, or should I say ‘no.”

There are friendly patterns in the stones

The steps are free from cobwebs and bones

So, maybe I’ll enter as it seems friendly enough

And stepping passed the threshold the door slammed shut

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


Ya’ll

Y is for you, you, you and you

A is for you, you, you and you

L is for listen up hear

L is for the LOUDER I’ll speak Ya’ll

So get ready should you escape from me

 

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Confusion

A single red rose left for a thoughtful reason

Interpreting the message, so uncertain

Red is for love, should she read it this way?

But, one single rose left where he played

Furthermore, he didn’t say goodbye

He slipped out the door,

When she turned her back

What does this mean?

Clearly confused

He said he was divorced

Perhaps he’s lying and the rose, his remorse

 


 

LOVE

L is for my love for thee

O is for the only baby I see

V is for the voracity of love to give

E is for my extraordinary evidence you live

Thank you, God

 


 

Yes!  No  😦

Could he be writing about me?

He said something I say, could he be?

Yes, surely, it’s all about me!

But, reading her poem and then I clearly see

Perhaps it isn’t that he’s writing about ms…


 

The Calico Cat

Standing was an old apartment building

The concrete and slab simply dilapidated

Old exposed rods, rusted and bent

The coat of old paint tarnished and damp

The wooden shudders sat crooked in the sill

But one happy site seen as the wind blew

Salmon Lace fell so dainty and gently pure

Ant The Calico Kitty sat adorning the room

 


 

 

Ghostly Giants

He was sleeping soundly

When awakened by an index finger that said, “come this way.”

Immediately transported, to a dusty rathe somewhere back in time

Being left alone, the guide left him standing on this path

When the Earth shook and started trembling while dust blew in his eyes

And he, remembering this place, twas a hunting place years before noon

And he shot and killed more than once an elephants families father

And from the dark distance he heard the thuds, the thundering of giant hooves

And then realizing his fate, because karma a bitch, have humbly said prayers

The kluging donging humongous thuds were on top of him

When suddenly he was screaming in fear and knew what the elephant feared

He prayed for mercy, and asked for forgiveness and bitterly wept that night

And when he opened his eyes and heart, he found himself inside his bed

 


 

Choices

Earth. The lights on the horizon where The Sun arises

But, there she flitted in waters and sky with many surprises

It was a delightful place, and she wanted only to stay

But, the call of The Sun and the warmth, she desired to stray

Back home, where her family lives, back home where troubles be

But then again, to venture there, would cost freedom, this she could see

Thus a question stood before her, and she yearned, for two places

Between The Sun and The Moon.

 


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Seashore Home

Fresh salty air at the seashore

A cottage on the beach quaintly

Invited passerby’s and welcomed visitors

How fragrant The Hibiscus and Jasmine

Adorning the homey entrance where the

Butterflies flitted everyday just passed noon

 


 

Piano Banging

There she sat because she must

Taking piano lessons is hard work

And daddy and mommy insist she play

So banging on the keys is

Therapeutic and releases the having to’s…



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The Capsizing in The Squall

Capsizing, the vessel and cargo mostly lost at sea

Still flying an American flag could still be seen

The storm was not perfect by any means

Men fell overboard and were lost, you see.

A merchant vessel of Marines, their things

Later washed to shore with no human beings

A sad day for any Love of God, bare witness

Contemplating the bravery these men had

Yesterday, so perfect, the day of the storm

By afternoon, men met its raging fury

And all thats left, after the waves

A vessel capsized to shore

Laying sideways

In small waves

No men

Found

But

A

Flag



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The Stones

From over the stones shining golden rays from the East

The Sun peeped through the ancient monuments

A sacred place where some gathered to worship gods

T’was long ago, the times of Druids and kings

The Solstice would come marking the seasons

The public knew by the shadows like on curtains

And when the time of summer or early fall began

The shadows laid prints on stones measuring them

Festivals celebrating Earthen bounties and treasures

A time of magic and a time they wondered

A time of beauty beyond cathedral windows

Not made by hands of men but by those of God

 

©2016 BonnieJennings.All Rights Reserved


 

Little Witch

Enchanting young author who told bewitching tales

Sat crossed legged in front of her book of spells

Carefully sprinkling fairy dust, between covers

As each page turned she so delicately

Put the magic on all who read

The cats come alive

The toad croaks

Magically

as she

spoke

 


 

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The Magic Tunnel

In the togths of the Grenberby

Hidden from sights of the ogmims

A land of wonder, minuscule pleasures

Lives the Loras and the bimblebergs

Green moss gangles from Birth Barsh

And the twithers feed off the valgus

Tis a plattif of seraphs and bees

In the togths of Grenberby

 

©2016 BJ All Rights Reserved



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The Sprites

Royal blue, turquoise, yellow and brown

Pink florals, green ivy, and Dandelions

Pages with cursive filled with swiggly-swags

Sheer magic, delightful wonder, and words

Butterflies, crickets, shells, clouds and sky

And poetry inscribed charmingly so glace’

Keep The Sprites forevermore, never dies

Within the pages kept by butterflies

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 


 

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Climbing The Mountain

While climbing the mountain, I met

An angel who seemed a ghost

Surprised my beliefs and  my assumptions

Of angels, ghosts, and supernatural phenomena

And I was climbing the lofty mountain

The air was clean and fresh

The lights were bright and promising

After leaving The Valley of Distress

Asking myself, pondering query’s, questioned, “Now?”

Because ~ there while in the valley

Couldn’t you have taken my soul?

Because climbing the mountain is pleasant

Away from the Valley of Despair

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved



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Lost

She is Autumn’s child who’s lost in Winter

The path she arrived is covered in snow

Her red brilliant hair alerts the Cardinals

Who tells the owls who will get her home

They know the brush and undercover

The thickets, the strath, bent brush and

Fall. And ~

Traveling with the fowl

She won’t be alone.

 
 

 


 

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Utterly Wicked Clowns

Your eyes seem to twinkle

You smile big and large

Why do you hide behind a face

That scary and hard? What is

Your pleasure, do you find fun

scaring the hell out of children

Or are you just simply on the run?

I mean, what’s your game?

I see it in your eyes. You’re

Sinister yet seem to say hello.

You play two games, and one

iIn’t amusing, and really telling

You truthfully, neither is the other.

Please go away, why not try

To make them laugh

Now go away

Before I hit you with this bat!



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The Scapegoat

She waits, she is the victim

This is her job ~ so she sits

The tides come and go

The sun rises and sets

She has her role

The abuser hates her

But he has his job to do, as well

They play their parts

Surely as The full Moon arrives

The games will start

 

 


 

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Remembering Childhood

Visioning on the ledge overlooking Wonderland

Her imaginations, unplanned arose in dreamland

A sky so blue sailed, as if, on The Mediterranean

She could almost be Wendy soaring freehand

With Peter’s voice once again back in Neverland

And those were the days remembering childhood

 


 

****More than 400 women disguised themselves as men and fought in the Union and Confederate armies during the Civil War.

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Rebel was her name in 1843

Long dark hair she wore braided in a bun

She roamed graveyards looking for her gun

She died on the battlefield, they thought she was a man

She fought for The South, her home, their lives

She fought not understanding why. The future

Was to set men free, but it was about money!

For God sake, carpetbaggers just stealing thieves!

They took, they stole, destroyed the way of life

And Rebel was getting even with that Union tribe

She never rested, after dying, as she tromped their graves.

It was about glory, about justice on The Southerners side.


 

 

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The Fair

Parasols and pinwheels of colorful rings

Walking the main street at a county fair

The lights bright with reds, whites and blues

The ferris wheel in other brilliant colorful hues

The smell of popcorn and corndogs permeate

They heighten the senses with the colorful hype

My heart beats fast when I hear people scream

In sheer delight, their fright gives me such a thrill

On the boardwalk, at midnight on Montego Bay

 


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To Be

Transformation, shape-shifting, becoming an owl

She had advanced DNA for making a change

Eyes and mind come together to make image

Belief that she can creates the pattern

And simple will lifts her into flight

She can shape-shift

She is an owl in disguise

 

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Man being God

Created beautiful; however, she is a machine

Made at nineteen within green collagen amines
Born caesarean within fluid of compound proteins
Merging quickly from the shell of a Pinto Bean hull
Though she acted like a Mexican Jumping Bean birthing
Grey plastic skin and human breath convened in her
Dawning a skirt of crinoline looking as a closet queen
Her weaponry: Nicotine, thiamine, and mescaline
Like a spider she spins a labyrinth of fibrous webs
Her energy is alluring like that of Mary Magdalene
She uses the active matrix screen to capture any prey
There is nothing about her that is serene, just spot keen
She is man’s invention ~ playing God ~ how unforeseen
She is obscene, a beautiful tartarine, smoke screen
And lastly ~ she is impossible to destroy.

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved


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She is a spy

Wearing pearls that speak of innocence

And extremely educated diligent citizen

Wearing cocktail black and a hat to hide

A face diversified, she’s been worldwide

Her eyes that watch and see, matched with

Her keen sense of intuitive deductions and myths

How polished and demure she appears

A graduate of the finest finishing school of cavaliers

And she sips like a lady from the china tea cup

However, underneath is a stealth spy dressed up

To play he game of cat and mouse and await

The counter spy who articulates secrets of misappropriate

Coming from her home ~ The Department of State

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved


 

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The Path

Whistling with the birds at sunrise

Walking a wooden path on a hillside

The rays of sunlight came to greet me

And the birds twitted amongst the trees

The squirrels frolicked across the planks

And I meandered the painting of God’s picture

Expecting only brilliance at the end

A country fairground in the meadow

A carousel of horses going round

And pink cotton-candy to eat

And music from a pipe organ

Skaters dancing to the beat

And then I return at evening

The sun reflects similarly

And I follow the path homeward

And thank God for the diversity

Of imagination

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved


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Little Sleuth

Something was going on up on the hill in the fog

T’was late in the country on a cool fall Friday night

From a damp cold ditch, there watching ~ those men

Knew there was something going on up that hill

They shuffled around ~ sort of aimlessly

Taking hats off and putting them on ~ crazily

Meandering, scratching heads, not talking, you see

Somethings going on up that hill ~ this I believe

Ole’ Norman looks like he’s praying by himself

Claude looks like a detective taking measurements

Calvin whispers to John and Don, somethings odd, to me

Then before daylight, they wander off in other directions to see

And, I hear my mother call from a distance and I must go

But, I’ll be back, later today to find some answers, I hope

What went on ~ on the hill ~ On a cool fall Friday night ~

In the dark ~  hiding in the fog

Thank you Free images at Pixabay

©2016 All Rights Reserved @Bonnie Jennings


 

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Call it forth and believe that it will

Make a stance and hold there until

Now call it forth, speaking as such

Pathiel angel my will will touch

The atom of existence, direct me

Trust I hold to the highest degree

There’s nothing new under the sun

Believe that it will, give full attention

Light your candles, light your soul

Use all might to succeed your goal

Now manifest just as my vision

Now thank God, who gave you ~

The provision.

***Pathiel, angel of manifestation. 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 


 

My Daddy’s Arms

How secure the baby feels being coddled in his daddy’s arms

When he cuddles as a ball, he feels no harm at all

And when he hears father’s heart beat, only goodness exists

And in his body is strength as he protects with his wrists

It is goodness to enter the world, being protected by the daddy world.

 


 

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Cancer

Blonde long hair deliberately covered her face

The reasons she hides her face will surprise you

And behind a tree she hides her thin frail body

Shamefulness and mortal fears she hides again

Hiding hiding she hides from you, because of cancer

 


 

Kitty 

The clear glass protects the bird

The bird has no fear, but should

The cat knows, temporarily it waits

Oh little bird, fly far away

Teasing the cat, you are bate

Adrenaline will get you, little bird

Fly away while you can bird

There is no timing the cat


 

 

The Crosses (Not 6)

Engraved, found on the barrel t’was a brass cross

A brass cross on a stake bare the emblem of Christ

Garlic in two vials, Holy Oil and pearlized bullets

One white candle with an adorning wooden cross

A brass charm cross and a bronze crucifix in the box

And crosses strewn throughout the assassin’s case

All in The Name of Christ, will you imagine that?

Never heard any words from Christ to carry weaponry

Only heard him say ~ pray the angels set you free

Again men misconstrue the battles of The Cross

The war is spiritual and not with bloody swords

Never heard of using guns when fighting evil

Only heard Christ say ~ Pick up your armor daily

And take the sword of the spirit to pray safety on each day.

 


 

****Archangel Zadkiel~ Brings emotional healing, and forgiveness making way for Prosperity in Abundance, and the manifestation of your authentic purpose.

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Spotted standing on the lush green and purple strath

A tall being dressed in white calling me onto the path

He held out his hand with a smile on his face

My instincts told me to trust him while on n the way

My hand, he held it was so warm and kind

He felt like my father or someone I’ve known

Smiling gently so kind and loving he appeared

I followed him to a place of forgiving and mirrors

In that place in green thickets and trees

The lilacs and Lavender grow sumptuously

He placed a crown made of floral herbs

We laughed and danced twirling there on foot

He showed me a vision of all my tears

And the people I’d blamed throughout the years

Never accusing, but presenting my truths

Then he asked, “Do you want abundance?”

“Of course!” I screamed. And then he said ~

“Prosperity and having your widest dreams?”

“Yes!” I yelled joyfully. Then he said intently,

“To have healing, joy and prosperity, you must ~

Forgive you see. By forgiving others sets you free.

And for those others, you open their doors

And windows too ~ of prosperity, wealth, health

And love.” And then he smiled and looked in my

Eyes. “The challenge is not easy, but can be done.

Take up your weapons of love and tolerance

Choose to forgive any unpleasantness, and

Know you’re not the only one involved. It’s not

Easy, but there is no other way.” Silently thought.

“What is your name,” I asked of his being?

“I’m the archangel Zadkiel, and your friend.

I bring healing, forgiveness, health, wealth

And prosperity to those who choose the better road

~ You see?”

 


 

 

The Spiral Staircase

I opened a door where I stood

Looking down on a spiral staircase

The floors were wood laden with spiders

Mold on the walls going down down down

The door behind me closed and locked

Unable to twist the knob either way

There I stood and only oneway down

The floor creaked with my first step

Then i took another step slowly

I moved. Holding the walls

With my hands, breathing in

The air smelled of dank dewy dirt

My fingers blackened by mold and dust

The frail hand rest fell off the wall.

Where was I going? I don’t know

But, there was no place to run

Proceeding down the spiral stairs

Praying the floor didn’t collapse

Came to the bottom after 3 turns

Stood to look around. An there I saw ~

A new world somewhere back in time.

 


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***Dumah – angel of silence. Quiet the enemy

 

Hello Dumah, Angel of earth’s silence

Quiet the airways so much gibberish

Men threaten men, men threaten animals

Our world is deprival of love

So it seems and some call

Voices in the form of poetry

Some in the lyrics of songs

Some see the light of dawn

Some see the war before us

But, Dumah you can silence men

You can do this for safety

Oh, our Dumah quiet accusations please

So that we shall see the break of day

The daughters of Eve are lovely

And he just wants one, so?

Questioning God, why?

His desires are so~

Strong as the

East wind

A fouce

Hard

To

control


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The Ghost Ship

T’was a eve of The Samhain on October thirty-one.

The mates and cooks were bellowing loudly

“Thar’s no brew that we can enjoy.”

The First-mate wan’t entertained

By the rally of this ghastly crew

The Captain sat alone port-side

Trying to wrestle up some stew

The ship had sailed for many moons

The years had come and gone

No one knew the day nor hour

No one knew it was dawn

Lingering on a vessel

That sank on Samhain ~

Seventeen thirty-one

 


 

The cat knows where it’s at

Soaking, all the words of wisdom

The Tabby, not just any cat

He’d rather nap on old pages

Sensing the elements of The Bible


 

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The Forest of No Return

Gaelic

Owerby a peth of plaistane sclam

Tarrow througates Steenhyve syne tredden yersel

“Yont aa Aiberdeen argled athoot baig’nets

T’was ballats baudly sunge spunkie

Sprachlos space-wife spae spates

Yon time in 1962

Overthere a path of flagstone climbed

Linger passages Stonehaven (been since time) trodden yourself

Before all Aberdeen argued without bayonets

Once was ballads boldly sung (full of spirit)

Clambered fortune tellers professing floods

Yonder time in 1962

 


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White Feather Answers

She petitioned the universe a prayer

Sent while lamenting the deaths despaired

And after a time, there came an answer

Sitting quietly, gently as a white feather

And peace rested within her soul

The answer so simply did unfold


 

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***Cancer awareness Black and white images

 

There seemed a lonely road before her

A bench of reflections and pondering

And she visited that bench during winter

Then walked that road of fear and dread

No one held her hand as she stood wobbly

At the door of uncertainty and starred at ~

The fate before her, perhaps one of ceasing

And what of her children and her dog and ~

What of the life she dreamed of? But, nothing

Really mattered now, she must pass the test ~

That threshold alone. Would she die or live ~

This is the door of uncertainty. The cancer drug

Is horrible, it’s poisoning the rest of her bones.

So she waits sitting on the bench just thinking ~

As she walks that lonely road again and again

Until she, God and fate determine her destiny

So she walks the mortal road alone.

 

 

 

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The Bench in The Woods ~ 🌳

There alone sat the bench nestling in the woods

Inviting those who contemplate their curious lives

Complexities or fragments of minuscule times

And placed in a box bound to separate each line

The bench that sits alone in the green forest stirs

The images of drawers kept separately with care

When the time recalls to open a such a special box

Contemplating, just awhile sitting silently alone there

Carefully remove that box to study and compare

And once the “ah-hah” reveals the likened two

Delicately put the box away, with all the clues

And thank the bench that sits alone in the woods

Oh when I return, the bench will still be awaiting ⏳

And I’ll sit examining my memories that need stating

And again will visit the next day if must, to close the box

And finish my repairs… ☀️

 

©2016 Bonnie G Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

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Picture black and white of a bridge…

For a Good Purpose Cancer

Like poetry the stone bridge jumped the water

A slow meandering crew met a silent pond

Where Lilly pads grow and goldfish hover

In the heat of mid-simmer just dangling along

Sweltering humidity and the air so thick and still

No birds sang, but crickets heard kwerping

Rubbing their knees in the warmth of trees

But taking my pad of paper and stylets

Drew the sumptuous foliage in the park

With ivy on the trees and red rocks displayed

But, drawing it in black and white

For reasons well purposed.

For those with cancer

Find health in the future

The best of health to all of you.

May the pharmaceuticals allow us the cure…

 

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The Suave Man ~

This man so handsome and well-dressed

Has eyes that pierce and lips that lust

His hair suave with auburn waves

He makes me wilt, he sees my soul

Where has he been? He seems world traveled

His nose so long and regal, what is his last name?

Surely, he’s not like any man I’ve met?

Do you know him? My heart is upside down.

When he talks his words are buttery smooth

Like fine wine, his kisses are divine

He likes my breasts, I’m tempted, I must admit

Oh, he’s a gentleman and sings melodies

That swoon me and I want to give

All of myself, he’s so damnable sharp

But, I just noticed he has devils on hisself.

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Thank you Pixabay for your image

 

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Gathering  ~ 

And she was venturing in the forest

Going to fetch the fungi and moss

The girl searched the strathy floor

In the mystic Highlands of Scotland

Alone searching, seeking for notions

Prayerfully seeking wise advise

And there she sought wise Barbiel

The Angel of October, and asked ~

Where do the toadstools grow here

Amid the dankness of the leaves?

It is in October they prosper trees

Barbiel took his dousing rod to lead

Come this way girl, don’t meander

I’ll teach you of autumn’s alchemy

And some other things, he spoke

He pointed to the medicinal fungi

Found under  the wet decayed log

He held up an yellow October leaf

Saying, just wait until it turns orange

And on their path of only mystics

Who wander into a forest dark

Finding Fagus BeechTree standing alone

He cracked the triangular nut offering

She ate the sweet fruits he gave her

Filling her basket with the kernels

They slowly continued onward

Old Barbiel taught as they passed

And she spent the day learning

From the tall burly angel telling

When will I see you again?

“I’m afraid, not until next October.”

I’ll be here on the first next year!

And saying goodbyes He departed.

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights reserved


 

 

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Come from the fires cleansed and purified, free from discrimination and chaff

Azbogah Angel of judgement, cause the accuser to cease harassment

Sending honesty, clarity, truth and favor on the behalf

May the purification last but a moment, so humbly asked

Ayil, archer of Sagittarius, who leads the Eastern sky the morning of the day that I was born

Though I perceive and I know, bring single-mindedness into focus

There will be no doubts, and all will know, turn their case, inside-out

And the angel over pricipalities and high places, Most honored Cerviel, I ask

Bring down the kingdoms of lies and corruptions of they who reign in governments

Oh thwart their plans and fight on my behalf, Oh mighty angel above

And send forth your armies Angel Chayyliel, powerful angel of might.

Please stand at the gate of their mouths, snd scatter their horses in dark.

Please, stand and defend the weak, and slam the gates on my foes.

 

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She is a good witch

If there is such a witch

God ordained and sealed with His kiss

Calling fire to purify and cleanse from lies

Though the tales be tightly bound

The fire will burn and break its strength

And that which remains is the core of truth

And shame falls on the ones who tied the knot

 


 

 

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Men

What are men?

They are far from being women, well many.

And they who horse around with other men

Do it most everyday

Being a wife of a man who acts like a child

Is like sleeping with a son unless the man has

Times of being a sensitive adult

Tenderhearted who cries

When watching Old Yeller die

And crying with his boys

Holding his daughters hand

Taking her to the ball

A man who dances while cleaning

Like a woman doing chores

A man who notices the stars

He points out Pleiades and Mars

Cooks Spaghetti on Saturday nights

Enjoys wine at family dinners

Sings songs like an opera singer

Imitates Fred and Ginger

So tender are his eyes

A sparkle of romantic charm

Never forcing his disposition

Never forcing his beliefs on all

A believer in something fantastic

Loves animals and plants

Tolerant of the feelings of women

Tolerant of different mankind

He enjoys making chocolate

He enjoys friends who are nice

Stays in the boundaries of laws

Teaches good boundaries to others

Respects the word, “no.”

Smiles on his knee as a knight

Offers his coat when chilly

Loves a she’s always a bride

Doesn’t fart at the dinner table

Has manners and cuts with a knife.

Uses the linen tablecloth

Chews food with his mouth closed

Writes poetry because he’s driven

Sings songs to the light of the moon

Has the spirit of a gypsy

Loves because you’re the only one

Gets up on Sunday mornings

Classical Baroque music

Alabama Sunday night

No religiosity or legalisms

Just a good well round man

Who believes in God discreetly

Worships quietly reverent in heart

Walks like God’s son

Never points fingers or shouts

Never manipulates to get his way

Golfs when he wants

plays a piano like Jerry Lee lewis

Can be wild but brings it home

And goes to play with his friends

Maybe over the weekend

And lets me stay home to write

Gives me space to do my thing

 

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Hofniel

Standing over Gethsemane, right hand bearing my sword

It was then, I called upon Hofniel, The mighty Fighter of the children of God

Asking, Hofniel will you defend him, the child in query? I asked.

And old Hofniel asked, “Which way, to the glory of battle, fare friend?”

Bowing at the warring angel, whose strength ferocious

He thus tapped me on my shoulders saying, rise my faithful partner

Do not falter in fear of dragons, but rather trust in childish faith

And, yes, I will come to your battle, and lead you into the light

 

©2016. Bonnie Jennings. All Right’s Reserved

 


 

 

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Christian Witches

Oh Asteraoth Angel who thwarts power you are beseeched in my need

Calling upon your mighty strength

Cause those in power to falter and yield

To the cause of God’s and the blessed child indeed

And they who hold the swords of laws

Who stand gaurding the vaults of man’s sorrows

Who are ambivalent to the pleas of justice

Who believe they own the worlds economy

They who’ve stepped on the heads of children

Piercing swords, causing massive bleeding

To uphold their plans to thwart the poor

To uphold the evils their index fingers lure

The hungry, the impoverished, the yearning souls

Into their webs of weaving horrors

And causing devilish harm onto the child

Who God set on high for the sake of His love

The bravery of the spies of His human army

They who serve despite the threats

Who risk their lives to uphold Rights

They who choose death though faltering mights

Unknown to most because, they must

Inbred within the desire to serve

A truth, a right, and an honest life

Hoping to bring heaven on the earth

Perhaps before the time designated by God

Nevertheless, fighting for men in need

Supermen, whistleblowers, and righteous beings

Sanctified before coming here to do their deeds

And I pray a covering on their heads

Protection from angels and God’s friends

Causing the devils to hide their heads

Shaming kings by using utter dread

And to them my prayers, like a curse, is heard

By MY GOD in Heaven and hostly seers

To fight the fight for the soldiers of bravery

To free them from the threats of slavery

And I ask of Asteraoth Angel who thwarts power,

To hold your shield high for their valor

And lead them as a warrior with purple hearts

Into the place of peace and rest

Thanking those who are so brave

To risk all, being hated, unpopular, and feels often small…

May the peace of The Lord guide you and protect you forever and ever ~ life eternal

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved


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The Watchers from Reptiles

Ariel, “Lion of God;” Angel of Protection, I sought defense

From The Watchers who seek his life

They who tell tall-tales

Those who honestly, lie

They who hide in high places

Whose eyes I see in my prayers

The watchfulness of his enemies

They are the ones to whom men fear

Men who hide in politics

Men who work in towers

Women who are, as watchers

Women who shed no tears

But know, I see your child

Who plays, as if, there’s no bleakness

Who plays with The IVY League

Who hasn’t seen the grief you’ve bled

On the innocent law abiding heads

Who are braver than the young of watchers

Who hide in Ivory Towers

And in prayer, I see your slit corneas

I see the evil behind your clean face

I call on the forces of God’s angels

To smite you while you chase

The innocent of God’s beloved

The child of my womb

For the prayers of mothers are strong

To defeat the enemy within

Hiding in high places

Cowards behind reptile skin

For you are evil demons

Devils who’ve not fallen from grace

Protected by laws most accommodating

Of reptiles who run our lands

But, I see you lurking in shadows

You, who don’t know grace

Come out, for The Day of Judgment

Awaits your lies and disgrace

Who deceived the child of God’s

Who placed you in your place

Yet, truthfully we know you hold the cards

It is because  of dishonest works

You are pitiful on The Day of Judgment

May you cry int the presence of The Lord

And, I will not raise my fist

I will withhold my curses

There will be no needs

To seek vengeance in your case

The Grand Jury will try your case

The angels will encircle your pride

And cleanse you from your filth

And replace your dirty rags

Oh, Ariel, “Lion of God;” Angel of Protection, I sought defense

And you came to be by our sides.

 


 

Thank you Free images at Pixabay

Thank you free images from Google 

©2016 All Rights Reserved @Bonnie Jennings

 

*Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bonnie (Gay) Jennings, or Bojenn or Bonnie Jennings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Thank you for visiting and reading

 

 

 

 

Man being God

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Thank you Pixabay for the image

Man being God

Created beautiful; however, she is a machine

Made at nineteen within green collagen amines
Born caesarean within fluid of compound proteins
Merging quickly from the shell of a Pinto Bean hull
Though she acted like a Mexican Jumping Bean birthing
Grey plastic skin and human breath convened in her
Dawning a skirt of crinoline looking as a closet queen
Her weaponry: Nicotine, thiamine, and mescaline
Like a spider she spins a labyrinth of fibrous webs
Her energy is alluring like that of Mary Magdalene
She uses the active matrix screen to capture any prey
There is nothing about her that is serene, just spot keen
She is man’s invention ~ playing God ~ how unforeseen
She is obscene, a beautiful tartarine, smoke screen
And lastly ~ she is impossible to destroy.

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 

July 6, 2016 South Tyler, TX, 2 miles North of Bullard, Tx

 

July 6, 2016

South Tyler, TX, 2 miles North of Bullard, Tx

A little after 8 pm

SSW moving slowly NNW

 

A brilliant light in sky

No other stars visible in any part of any of the sky

Caught my sons eyes because it was so brilliant. He’s not a UFO fan…

 

I took pictures anyway…

These are the same object with different lenses and enlargements…

 

The Abductee Informant

 

 

Your Watchman

 

Sunday afternoon:

The opening scene takes place in a grocery store parking lot in August where there are numerous vehicles parked and many people shopping. It wasn’t a chance meeting though it was meant to be brief and appear accidental. The setting is in a small city in The Bible Belt. It was an extroidinarily hot afternoon and there were no clouds in the sky. Three people greeted each other. Two knew each other previously, the young doctor and the informant, and the third person, his wife, was being introduced, even though, she was not invited, the doctor brought her. The doctor’s young children were with other family members as it had been planned, but not his wife.

The story dialogue begins with the young wife asking the female informant,

“Who are you and who are they? You have told my husband so much bullshit?”

The informant, double agent for whomever replied, “I don’t know, but can tell you sincerely, they are not lovely, nor are they kind.” She looked down in somber explanation and then looked up into the eyes of a questioning young wife.

The double agent stared at her. She said, “I didn’t seek your husband  out; they did.” She further added, “Guard your children. Never let them out of your site.” She looked away into a distant stare. She remembered her own children’s disappearances twenty-two years ago, even though, they returned changed somewhat. She would never forget the horrors and memories that would never go away. Her children told of her about men who did terrible things. Such horrific details she could not bare to listen to them. Each child taken at different times and by different people. She reflected for a moment about her own childhood and those men cloaked in black hoods and were taller than anyone she had ever seen. Their faces had been hidden from her, but she didn’t want to see. She hid under the covers on many cold nights.

The doctor’s wife said frantically, “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

The female agent hesitated before she responded as she thought. It wasn’t that she was withholding information from the insisting young wife. No, but she was truly unsure of who she was or is to “them,” or anyone. “I am not sure of who I am, or why, or how I came into their services not by choice.”

“That makes no sense! What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know something? You’re lying.” The young wife was trembling as she was angry, frightened, and determined to understand the craziness of what she had just heard. “And, what do you mean when you say, guard my children? Are you threatening our family?”

The atmosphere was somber. The electricity of the moments before fell when the informant raised her hands and gently moved them slowly up and down from over head to lower than her hips settling and calming the air. The young wife at first thought the informant was aggressively posturing, but a few seconds later realized the movement was certainly not generated to cause any physical harm.

The female informant said, “I’m not here to harm you. I don’t have any hardcore answers. I’ve searched for those answers all my life. I can only tell you the little that I know. But, we must find a safe place. A place underground and protected. We’re being tracked. They must not see that we connected. And, I hope it’s not too late.”

The young doctor of medicine spoke up. He had been silent because he was as confused as his wife. “Where do you suggest that we meet?”

The informant said, “Go to your office Monday and work just like any other day.” Then, to the young wife she advised the same. “I will arrange the place and the connection.” She told the doctor, “I will call for an appointment and will tell you then the particulars, but know your office is not safe. They will track and listen to  us. You can not write a note to me there in my presence or speak of this. Understand? You will not call me and I won’t call you unless it’s for an appointment.”

He nodded yes.

The informant said, “We must break this meeting up, now.”

“He said, “Will this be soon?”

“Not sure. It could be awhile. We have to leave some gaps in time. They’re tracking us even now,” she responded quietly.

The young doctor’s wife said, “This is crazy.”

The informant nodded in agreement. “I’m going now.” She gets in her old white 2005 Honda Accord and starts the engine. She opens the car window on her way out and says loudly to the young doctor’s wife, as to be heard, “It was so nice to meet you.” She drove out of the parking lot.

 

Chapter 2

Monday

The female informant takes the little amount of cash from her piggy bank, she takes the money and speeds of to The closes discount store. At the back of the store she purchases three cell phones. One for the doctors wife, one for the doctor and one for herself and places them in bubble wrap in a large envelope. She puts only the doctors name on it and tightly licks the glue on the envelope and presses it tightly. She also included the instruction for the cell use to each other only. Use it as little a possible. All regular medical calls were to be by appointment and by going through the secretary, just like normal. She left the store and drove to pick up her grandson who is getting out of summer day camp. The boy is ten.

“Grandma, where are we going?” This wasn’t their usual way to go home and he had friends to play with so he was in a hurry. “Why are we going this way?”

“No worries. We have to drop off papers at the doctors office.” She pulled up in front of the front door drive. She handed the boy the envelope and said, “Tell the receptionist this is for him and open as soon as he can” So, the boy did just what he was told.

“Now can we go?” He was whiny and put out that he was delayed as he got into the car.

“What did the receptions say? Did you her that the doctor was waiting for her records and they were important?” The female informant asked her grandchild.

“They were nice and said, “Who sent it? And, I told them, you did and you said it was important.” The kid was sighing as he had things to do. “Can we go now?”

She, the female informant smiled at the boy and drove away wondering how soon the phones would be delivered and will he open the package then, and would the secretary loudly announce who brought them? She ruminated about this. Should she call him to be certain he got the?

The receptionist hand delivered the packages to the doctor when he was sitting in his office. He said, “What’s this?”

The receptionist said, “Oh Mrs. Smith, you know the kind of crazy one, said you were expecting these.” She smiled as she stood in the door waiting and watching him open the notes as she was told by the boy. “I sure hope her grandchild won’t be that looney.”

The doctor stopped opening the package and said, “That’s okay. I’ll open the latter. We have work to do.” He arose and put the envelope on his chair and scooted it under the desk. He shut the door behind him as it automatically locked. He then took the envelope and carefully opened it and looked at the two phones. Man, she’s serious about this craziness. He put them in his briefcase and the note in his shirt pocket.

 

 

Chapter 3

Monday Evening:

Later he made his first call to the informant. He was alone in his car and he soon pulled over on the side of a dark road hidden under trees where it was safe. He called the informant.

“I thought you said this would happen later? What’s going on?” The doctor’s voice was hostile, angry, but on the other hand ~ He called her.

“Glad you called so quickly. We have work to do.” The informant was short and to the point. She walked outside away from her home just in case her voice was transmittable from inside her home. She took a leisure walk as far as she could and stopped.

“What do I have to do with your delusions?” Firmly, he insisted an answer. “Leave my family out of your charades, you understand me!”

“Trust me, your family is in danger, doctor.” The informant bounced back at him. “Your wife shouldn’t have come Sunday, so why did you bring her?”

The doctor was silent, then he said, “Because, in case you were hitting on me, then she would see and intercept this bizarre fabrication. I should have you arrested for stalking.”

“So, why don’t you?” She was silent.

“I’m not sure.” He paused, “Perhaps, I’m interested in your tales of cloak and daggers, your mysteries of God knows what.”

The informant listened, “Go on. Any more , hmm?

“You talk. Your turn. Explain your business.” The doctor fell quiet. “And, to add, the phones. A little over the top, for a twisted sorted game, I’d say.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Did you see the laboratory notes in the envelope?”

“No.” He responded.

“I put two reports from my distant past and one of a recent test. Both under the name of Mrs. Smith.”

“Okay. Tests of what kind?” He reached for the envelope on the car seat next to him and opened it.

“Lab tests with my DNA. You will notice that both tests have 1% Neanderthal and the old test has 2% unknown DNA and the latest has 3.5% unknown.” The informant waits for him to answer.

“Wait a minute let me look.” He ruffles with the pages. “You know DNA is not my expertise.”

“Just look.” She shot back quickly.

“Yes, I see, but still I don’t know what this means, I don’t do DNA.” He’s disconcerted with her for insisting him involuntarily into matters he is unlearned.

She sighed having her own frustrations with his lack of concern or understanding.

“What do these reports have to do with me? I ask you again. Stop with the vagueness.” He insisted.

She thought, “I want you to have labs drawn on me again, then on your self.”

“What? That’s absurd. Why should I carry on with your delusional mystery?” He continued to look at the lab reports and her DNA. He recognized the lab values were not matching and are increasing and thought, why? “Why do I have to test mine? Why am I relevant to your search?”

“I will be in this week and you will draw labs on me under the name of Mrs. Smith, right?” She restated her request.

“Yes, come into the office Wednesday noon. No one but the staff will be around. I’ll just tell them it’s for labs that had to be drawn at noon. But, mine… not sure.” He gave clear instructions to the informant and took control of her craziness.

“Okay, Wednesday at noon, I’ll be there, but if my labs are remarkable then you will draw yours?” She took control again.

“Okay. Deal. But, what does your DNA have to do with mine? We’re not related.” He hesitated, “Are we?”

“Well, yes, in away we are.” She said, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

They hung up and she walked back to her house. It started to thunder. Rain was coming soon.

 

Chapter 4

He was busy the early part of the week. The young doctor didn’t have time to think about the strange phone cal except the last words the crazy Mrs.  Smith, the odd informant said, “Well, yes, in away we are.” And, this bothered him. These words got under his skin.  What exactly did she mean? 

Wednesday noon:

“Hello Mrs. Smith.” The young doctor unlocked the door to the clinic. “Come on back.”

The informant Mrs. Smith was directed to the phlebotomy room. “Our phlebotomist is on her lunch break so if you’ll allow me to do it, then I’ll have it done in no time.” He was friendly and spoke loudly so the staff could hear him and think nothing about a noon lab draw. After all, the doors were shut at exactly noon. He had all the vials, the tourniquet, the needles and the centrifuge ready. “May I get you a coke or coffee?”

“A coke would be good. Thank you,” She responded.

“Before you drink the coke,” after he handed it to her, “Let me swab your mouth for DNA. We’ll do it every way we can to get comparisons. Okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” She seemed glum and was quiet, but decided chit chat would be best in case she was tracked into his office and was being listened to. “How has your week been?”

The doctor, nodded his head, “Here make a fist” as he had placed the tourniquet on her upper arm, “The week has been quite unusual. The office has been busy as all get out.”

She smiled. “Unusual?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy.” He chuckled under his breath.

“I see sarcasm, doctor.” She sighed. “I hope everything is back to your normal routine?”

“Absolutely. Things couldn’t be better.” He cut it short. He was beginning to sweat. He blew a vein. “Dam-it. I have to use the other arm.”

“Dam-it? Do you always talk this way around clients?” She acted upset. “Calm down. I don’t have all day. I have to go back to work soon.”

He shut up and put the tourniquet tightly on the left arm. “That should do it.” He was successful and unsnapped the cord. “There you go. Finished. The labs will be sent out after lunch.” He escorted her to the door and opened for her. “I’ll call you with the results, Mrs. Smith.”

“Make me copies. I will pick them up.” She turned quickly not to show any familiar behavior in case they were being watched. Off she went in the old white Honda.

The doctor walked into the office and sat down at the computer. He added a drug screen and a BAC to the labs. This way he would no if the woman was drunk, on drugs and her DNA which he was now curious of.

He wanted to ask Mrs. Smith for her real name, but thought about the fact that having too much information was irrelevant and would involve him even farther than he wanted. Nope, he answered his curiosity.

 

Chapter 5

Two weeks passed by and he had not thought about the labs or Mrs. Smith. After all, he was a busy doctor with many patients and his wife surely would have him involved in more social activities than he wanted. So, the thoughts of those two dilemmas were simply dismissed.

Mrs. Smith, the female informant, laid low and never once called him on the cell phones or contacted his office. However, she ruminated about the findings and wondered why he had not contacted her about the results. She bit her nails and chewed them off, but she was silently waiting.

Another Wednesday two point five days later:

The fax machine was shooting out labs as it usually did at any doctors office. The lab tech took them off the machine and delivered the results to the prospective doctors. She put values into the young doctors box on the outside of his door where he would see them and read them. He did just that and noticed in the pile of fifteen or more pages the name Mrs. Smith. She had several of the fifteen pages. He closed the door behind him and sat to look them over. The first one was the drug screen. It was negative of any substance then he looked at the BAC. No alcohol present in her blood system. “Damn she’s clean a a whistle.” He flipped through to the DNA results. And sure enough the swab of the oral mucosa results were conclusive to the last results she had. 3.5% Unknown and 1% Neanderthal, he whispered to hime self. He didn’t know any DNA specialists, he didn’t know what this meant.

“Amy,” he yelled.

“Yes, doctor.” Amy poked into his office.

“Find a local DNA or Genetic engineer, doctor or someone I can send a DNA consult out to.” The doctor ordered right now and Amy got right on it…

She called around and found  a Doctor not far away. She wrote his number and address down and took it into the young doctor.

He placed a call and was able to get through to the doctor when he identified himself as a doctor.

“Doctor DNA, this is the young doctor, and I wanted to ask about normal and abnormal DNA percentages. Could you tell me if 3.5% is unusual in oral mucosa for a normal human level?

Could you tell me where I can look such information up? A reference perhaps?” The young doctor asked collegiately.

The elder doctor replied after he cleared his throat, “You say 3.5% doctor?”

“Yes, that’s right, 3.5%.” The young doctor clarified.

“That can’t be right. test again. The lab is wrong. Can’t be.” And he was certain in the tone of his voice, the young doctor was mistaken.

“No, this is the second recent result. They are the same from two different labs.” There was a silence between the two men and the fund doctor said, “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, anyway.”

“Yes, he added those two results are wrong. Your patient would not be human, sir. Well, good day, call again if you need me.” The elder doctor thought the question was odd and the response that two different tests from two different labs verified the same 3.5% values and this was more than interesting, indeed. He wished he had gotten the young doctors number, but he didn’t. He asked his secretary, but she had gone for the day, as usual.

The young doctor hung up and wished he hadn’t called the consulted doctor. But, he waited for the staff to leave saying good bye then he attempted to draw his own labs as he promised. Finally after stabbing himself three times was able to get them, four vials, in an upside down manner on the arm. He put them in the refrigerator and with a label the lab staff told him, after an inquiring call, for a miscellaneous practice draw. No charges, no questions, just a practice. He made two copies for the informant as he promised. He put them in the brief case, and sped off to the tree area on the side of the road where he could call her. Meanwhile, his wife called and asked why he was late?

“You forgot we had a diner party tonight? You’re late.” She demanded that he answer and she demonstrated her anger of missing such an event.

“Sorry, working late and I’ll be thirty more minutes. Go on without me.” He was sweet to her placating her for now.

He pulled the car over under the trees off the side of the road. There was no one around. He made his call on the cell phone the female informant, Mrs. Smith provided.

The phone rang several times. He did not leave a message. The messages had not been set up. Mrs. Smith thought that would be best, no messages to be traced. He began to drive home and when he arrived the house was empty. His children were staying with his inlays for the night. He didn’t feel like attending a dinner party so instead he poured a Jack on the rocks. He sat in a comfortable slouchy chair in the dark and thought of what the labs meant to him. What did Mrs. Smith mean when she said they are related?

His private cell from Mrs. Smith rang. It was her. He answered quietly. “Hello.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to call, well? Any results?” She jumped into the labs without any surface conversation.

“Yes, I have them. And, your two copies.” He shot back at her.

“Well, what do they say? Did you make me copies?” She was eager to hear the results that she was certain concrete as she thought.

“They are conclusive to your other labs. 3.5% unknown in oral mucosa.” He paused.

“I want the copies. Where can I meet you?” She hurried not wanting to miss the results or to allow time to prevent her from getting them.

“Not tonight. I’m too tired. Come to the secretaries in the morning. They will be there.” He again took control as that was his nature.

“No, not at your office. Bump into me tomorrow at the store just like in August at Mid-day. We can greet and pass the envelope like everything is normal.” She was in control.

“Okay, but meet me at 2pm. I have meetings until then. Oh, my wife has come home. Got to go.” He hung up the cell and put it in the brief case.

“Hello honey. Why didn’t you come. Everyone waited for you.” She was tall and red headed like Maureen O’ Hara and fiesta like her, as well.

“Too busy. I just got home.” He swirled the bourbon in the glass.

“Well, you should have called to let us know to eat without you. Is that bourbon? Are you drinking alone in the dark? That bad, huh?”She could interrogate with her lean body and red hair better than an FBI agent. “What could be so imperative to a family care doctor?”

He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic put-down of being only, in his mind, a family care doctor? Geez, what does a man have to do to get recognition and respect? Damn her. 

 

Chapter 6

Early the next day he got a call on the private cell. He was on his way to work and alone driving in the rain.

The informant female says, “It’s not a good idea to meet you at 2pm. Is there any way you could meet me now? Do you have the labs reports with you?”

“I have them with me. I’m close to work and have only a few extra minutes. Where?” He responded quickly.

“Park your car at the grocery and walk to the post office. Go through their backdoor. I’ll walk there and be there in ten minuets.” She hung up.

He was early that morning with thirty minutes to spare. So, this plan of hers would work. Driving the car to the grocery and parking it he then got out and walked as if he were going into the store, but he walked the sidewalk to the post office where the most office boxes were and walked out the back door. She was standing there in the rain.

“Well, come inside, out of the rain.” He insisted.

“Just let me have the results.” She put her hand out and he gave her the labs reports.

“If you have any questions call me later. I gotta go,” he said. There were people starting to come in and he felt unusually uncomfortable to the beautiful grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith. “What’s your real name by the way?”

She didn’t smile. “It’s not a game doctor. This is not a flirtatious meeting or coincidental rendezvous, understand?”

The young doctor had to check his emotions. She was right, he was feeling like this was a scandalous rendezvous and he was rather enjoying himself. He forgot this was a bazaar story about wild DNA and a weird woman. The mysterious excitement was taking him into a fantasy of types.

“You’ll need to watch your pheromones, doctor. This is serious. By the way, did you draw your labs?” She raised a doubting eyebrow at him.

“Yes, yes I did.” He retorted. People were coming into the post office. It was 8:05am. “I got to go. Late now. When my labs come in, I’ll call you.” He left in the rain from the front door and followed his path to the store and then his car. As far as he knew, no one saw him. He felt sneaky and ashamed for feeling flirtatious, for enjoying a life of increased adrenalin. He never felt that way before…

 

Chapter 7

Almost Fall

The young doctor went about his work and social functions and left the flirtatious misinterpretations behind. After all, Mrs. Smith was a grandmother and not a normal stereotypical woman who would be considered as a rendezvous for a primary care physician. So, he carried on as usual.

The grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith was about the business as usual, too. Only hers were menial and mundane while in the office. However, after 5pm, it was the usual adrenalin rush she had experienced since she was a child. Once in a while they would visit her at night. The clock usually said 3am or close. They were not consistently on time, but they gave a few minutes on either side of 3. However, she was older now and their visitation numbers and times to visit were fewer, thank God. She did believe in God or a supreme power. She had to believe because something always saved her from their grip.

It was for the reason of monetary purpose that the informant did astrological forecast for extra money and for the fact she loved astrology. She finished a woman’s chart who lived in Oregon and noticed intently that this woman had similar coordinates as herself. It was later in central time as Oregon so she called the woman for clarification. The phone rang and the woman picked up.

“Hello,” she said.

“Yes, hello,” the informant had a Southern drawl from being and living in The Bible Belt for so long. “This is Lottie the astrologer and I need to clarify your information, is now a good time?”

“Oh yes! Now is great.” The woman answered.

There are unusual themes in your astrological readings and I need to verify your birthdate and time of birth Is it 1952? And, were you born at 7:58Am in Portland, Oregon?” Lottie asked.

“Yes, that is correct.” The woman replied.

“Okay, good. So, I want to explain that in 1952, October 10th, The Constellation Ophiochus was arising in the Eastern sky. This is rare to occur and we know the zodiac has 12 houses, but in your case 13… Lottie waits for a response.

“Very insightful,” the woman replies. “Do go into more of this. I’ve never heard of a 13th house in The Zodiac.”

“Sagittarius is in the twelfth house and is also your ascendant and it is also sitting near the constellation Ophiochus or Asclepius . This would say you are a strong believer in a force much greater than most other men. Your Chiron is also near the ascendant and close to the constellation Asclepius and would indicate you are a healer. Are you a health employee?”

“Yes. I am a nurse.” The woman proudly answered.

“That would explain Ophiochus/Asclepius in your chart on the horizon at the time of your birth,” Lottie explained.

“I’m not aware of that name or custom.” The nurse responded.

“I’ll send it as a text. Look it up. The myth goes like this. The constellation on the horizon at the time of your birth would be in the eastern sky. Asclepius was then coming up or arisen. You could then, identify with the constellation as your birth home if you thought that we are all star children and connected spiritually. It is reported that Ophiochus/Asclepius  is your DNA home or where your descendants came. You are from that Constellation and nearest star to you at the time of birth would be the home of the star that your family came. That is where your spirit came from, if you believed that’s a possibility and wanted to know more, there are references to this information.”

The woman closed down.  She was somewhat shocked and refuting the ideas. “Oh, that’s silliness,” she responded and laughed. “That’s not feasible. No, can’t go there. I’m Christian and star children and aliens are not anything that I take any part of. Astrology is just fun. That’s why I did this reading with you. Can’t do the other.”

Lottie shut down, also. “Well, if you need me for future reading please contact me. You now have my number. She realized that she wasn’t going there and wasn’t interested. Perhaps frightened by the idea that we came from alien life forms.

“Well, good night Lottie,” she said her goodbyes.

“Goodnight.” And, Lottie hung up disappointed because the woman was clueless. She saw no reason to forward the woman any further any information.

Lottie, Mrs. Smith or the female informant sat on the couch thinking about the phone call with the woman in Portland. Recollecting their conversation it provoked dismay and anger because the woman said that her astrological read was indeed, “A joke between Christian friends who chose the same birthday and decided together to do a test. They would send the same birth information to three of four astrologers to see if they all came up with the same natal horoscope.”

Lottie had explained to the woman, “I don’t use computer generated charts and interpretations. My interpretations are original and I personally sift through the data the information provided.”

This didn’t impress the woman in Portland. The woman was certain that all of the reports were simply conjured from “a demon.”

Lottie was disappointed, but she went on and gave it any more thoughts.

The thunder came again. Lottie lost power in her home. She lit candles. It was soon to be her birthday. She too was from Asclepius. It was on the eastern horizon at the time of her birth.

She thought about the doctor and his birthday. “Could his birthday say the same. How could I get his birth information without seeming bizarre? After all, the doctor was living in The Bible Belt and he may hold the same belief system as the woman in Portland? Well, he already thinks I’m bizarre enough. It can’t hurt anymore to ask.”

The thunder boomed overhead. It shook the house. I hate nights like this.

Lottie hated nights like this one because they, whomever they are, would sometimes pay her a visit and since she was on a quest to find information and other human victims were more than likely angry with her. For these reasons she feared they would come, Lottie expected them soon, possibly tonight. There was no absolute telling about their arrival except it would be between 2 and 3AM.

Lotto’s adrenalin was high. She felt it rising. She had to work in the morning and knew with her norepinephrine this high, sleep would be hard to fall into. She took a Xanax and used the dose by a half.

She marveled at the coincidence of having an appointment with the young doctor. The previous doctor moved out of town and for this reason she was absorbed into the new young doctors patient list. The first appointment two years prior she had with him was normal, and without any odd or strange feelings. He was a doctor and there was no signs or odd occurrences that pointed to any connections with him. Lottie thought about the first time she had an eyebrow raising experience with him.

It was when she had her second appointment to see him. He neared her to listen to her chest, suddenly a vibrational shock happened, they both felt and jumped. They blamed it on static electricity. However, Lottie saw it differently, but she drew no conclusions or conjured anything from her imagination. But he had something else that captivated her. His eyes. They were blue and sometimes green and the pupils changed rapidly. The way he glanced at her for a split second, his pupils and her own met. It was hard to explain to a normal person. It was not flirtatious or romantic by any means. No, it was like two railcars latching together conjoining to become one. Clink. She felt it. They matched. Another piece of the puzzle had been found. Lottie was certain that the young doctor was the one. Could his birth have the same coordinates as hers and since he was a doctor would certainly be interesting to investigate. If he was also born with Ophiochus on the horizon than this could only mean that he is the link, the one person who would help her. After all, he would be helping himself and his children. Asclepius would be his origins. The Serpent Bearer, the healer.

She knew she was imaginative and had to check on occasion, if things were real, or psychotic. Not once had she been diagnosed with psychosis, but when psychologist and doctors examined her, they simply said, “It’s in your imagination. You’re quite creative, aren’t you?”

She had to agree with them on the creative description. That is a fact. She was imaginative, but high levels of norepinephrine could usher epinephrine synergistically. Her mind was going that night, all of the what if’s, could be this or that, and so forth, had her in a whirlwind. The Xanax Thank God was kicking in… Her mind began to slow down and she went to her bedroom, took her clothes off, laid in bed and drifted off to the land of no thoughts or adrenalin. She loved that place.

 

Chapter 8

Rem Sleeping

The thundered rolled all night. Though it was now distant, it still reverberated the small house.

Lottie slept soundly, snoring in and out with the cool breeze of October. Her windows had opened and she was not startled, nor moved. Sleeping as soundly as one could, she had no cares. No lights were on and only shadows from the lightening and trees danced on her walls. This never frightened Lottie as she was use to terrifying images and these were natural and she hadn’t a care about how they played out violent themes on her walls or had ghost faces appearing in the mirages of shadows. The images carried on as she slept undisturbed.

Standing tall, hidden in the corner an entity stood, watching her. No facial expressions it had and time was of no concern by the looks of the thing. Its finger arose from its side cloaked in a black robe and it pointed at the clock. Time stopped then as she slept.

Bright lights everywhere. Not Earthly, by any means, they illuminated the cold metallic room, as she laid on a slate slab. Cold with vapor rising, humidifying the room, Lottie opened her eyes. She knew this place all too well, it was a place of torture and a place of hell. She screamed, “NO!” Paralyzed without restraints, as usual, and her mouth muzzled by invisible sources, her screams were not heard by anyone or anything. She hoped God heard her and would send angels to free her. Eyes were wide open, breathing in and out through her nose, she looked around as far as her peripheral vision could go, she felt movement, and from ten feet or more she saw shadows.

This time there were no instruments used on her body, no sounds that broke her ear drums, there was filling the space of tall figures of whom she saw no faces. They surrounded the slate slab where she laid, and permeated her body with mental messages. Threatening her to stop her investigations, to stop visits with the doctor. They showed her the room next to her as the walls separating vanished and in the next room were two children.  The children of the doctors, lay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes God Whispers

Sometimes God Whispers, and sometimes He is silent. 

Silence is golden it’s been said.

When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.

Hendrick ter Brugghen, Esau Selling His Birthright, c. 1627

So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”

It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.

I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.

I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.

Don’t think you shall slip from me,

The Watchers
The Watchers

Don’t think you shall slip from me, 

My mind won’t permit

The waters try to separate us, 

From the sweat and the dust of Earth, 

But I won’t let them take you away,

Though the clock hands unwind to suggest so, 

BUT, I SHALL STOP THEM, from taking you, 

My night dreams and visions will carry us through, 

Until I enter the door of everlasting bliss ~

And perhaps leave you here, 

Half forgotten, “Oh, my dear.” 

I’ll let you go if I must

So, here’s to your peace

In me you can forever trust.

Farewell, my love, goodbye.

Shadow People

IMG_0339
Shadows on my walls are silent
Yet, wield stories; often violent
Because messages must be told
Within my self, my heart does hold
And the stories that were uttered
Hushed intrusive others
Surrounded by the shadowy figures
In silence, I mouthed their nameless brothers
Walking in the past held memories
The dreams of my enemies
Explaining their inner pains
Listening, though I kept their refrain
Then my pneuma knew for certain
The tear of that curtain
From whence the shadows came
Stepped out from him and is to blame
And in the darkness were several lights
Beaming hundreds, of tiny sights
Music heard from here and there
Sounds vibrating ghostly everywhere
And the birth of a tiny star did shape
Within that void
Troubled stories within shadows of souls
Well, laugh at me if you must!
The lost brothers who had no trust
Listen cowards with opened ears
Listen closely they’ll be no cheers
The words will not be enough
silently whispered and then hushed
Forever silenced, within, she wept
There the crowds morned her loss
Though misunderstood dimmed her gloss
There she stood amidst her kin
She glowing from within
She held a sign for all to read
“The shadows are no longer silent, indeed”
And her peace finally came resting
When the ghostly images retreated from molesting
Pluto Knows
Pluto Knows
* Disclaimer and to clear up anyone who might think this is about a personal rape, molestation or abduction, to clarify, this is just fictional writing and jotting down what comes to mind.
 By Bonnie Jennings ©2015 #Bojenn All Right’s Reserved

The Intervention

The Watchers
The Watchers

Buckling thunder and separating streams of light formed above the house that I live in. The lightening protected my conversations for the moment, even though, I spoke to the 2 psychiatrists, mind to mind. We had only moments to share information before the house was once again free from auditory protections afforded me. Invented by my deceased engineering father, from the grave he collaborated temporary asylum to protect me from the forces of the extraterrestrials. They heard every word I spoke and they could read my mind. The temporary electrical energy allowed 5 minutes to tell the 2 doctors that I had copied 7 manuscripts and placed them strategically in 7 different countries with 7 riddles and 7 mandala keys all of which were different. They were given instructions to read their copies supplied in hidden locations and then burn the information immediately. The understanding given to the 3 of us, there could be no betrayers since the shared minds could interpret and decipher any rebel plots to squeal on the other. ~

 The doctors were chosen because of their zeal for the unusual and I for my association with my father, whom they, the extras destroyed. They had visited me from birth; however, and thankfully, I was not deemed worthy in intellect for their purposes. I would have been thankful, but they never left me alone with their threats of death and destruction. Why they kept me alive was beyond me. I suppose, I’m glad, but I’m always on the run and doing their menial assignments. I lip read. So, they use me to find what they’re  looking for. I must mention here that the ET’s can read all minds using telepathy, but they don’t interpret all conversations and that is where they enslaved me. I’ve never been one-hundred percent sure who or why they have such interests in certain psychotic people, but they do. I work in mental hospitals for them.
~
In 5 minutes under the protection on the electrical field force, I downloaded my mind to theirs, the 2 psychiatrists, and visa versa. Instructions were to speak only mind to mind and have absolutely no eye contact or body language or gestures. They were to treat me as the lowly nurse that I had been educated and treat me in ill regard. The 2 doctors were to disrespect my statements and dismiss me from the room, from time to time. This was my instructions to them. They followed through and sometimes were over the top in their orders directed to me. The other nurses tried to step in for me, but I told them, “Absolutely not. I am strong and their comments don’t bother me.”
One of the doctors, who was 35 years my junior said, “That’s enough from you. I don’t need your input.” He didn’t even say, “Thank you Nurse.” I shrug them off, even though, sometimes I wondered if there was truth to his or their belittling of me and that the 2 of them really didn’t understand our mission. Anyway, The ET’s watched from their port, station or mother ship and they buy into our schemes, for now.
~
 Monday morning had arrived and the meeting began sharply at 0830. The first patient entered the office. He was babbling nonsense in a foreign indistinguishable tongue. He talked about the devil and his eyes changed. They became sharp and focused like a buzzards. his nostrils moved in and out in a faster rhythm. The intent of his posture also changed as he sat forward, on the edge of the chair. He shook his left index finger at us. “You wait,” he commented in a deep warning tone. “He is coming. You’ll see, he will call up tonight at 8. Trust me. You can mark my words.” The man lowered his index finger and the room fell silent. However, I can tell you, he isn’t the man, the Et’s were after.
To be continued ~

I Know What You’re Up To

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I Know

The young woman tells the final story. Her last chapter is complete. 

“Darkness covered the room. At midnight, the chimes from the grandfather clock resounded a deep, “dong, dong, dong, and dong.”
“The clock didn’t awaken me. The chimes never do, but I always expect them, the others, that is. They’re, always, right on time. It’s their, time to come. I sense it. Like an odor, or breeze or an internal alarm that warns me.

Her mature voice shifts. It changes into a young girls. Under the covers, the seven year old hides. She says that she shivers in fear and dread while they, the male beings, occupy her bedroom.

“Maybe, they won’t notice, that I’m awake. They usually don’t, but one night, they might. What then? What should I do?” She asks.

I don’t know what to tell her. I’ve never had them visit. There are no solutions to help her. I wonder if she is being sexually assaulted? I listen, but there is no mention of touching or fondling, not even a kiss. So, I wait. My antenna will know the moment I should question.

Her eyes are huge. I see she is telling the truth.

“The beats of my heart will surely tell the black cloaked monks, I’m faking sleep.” She sighs and looks up at me with the saucer shaped eyes.

“They enter my bedroom, from out of the closet. Twelve, midnight, when the clock dongs, I know, they are coming. The leaves from the forest that surround our home have shimmering grey colors that seem to dance like stick indians on my bedroom walls. The images fervently sway in madness of movements. I know then, to expect, the friars. And, as certain, as fall follows summer, they will come. Three, of them, usually.” She pauses, then`

“Sometimes four, walk out of my closet from behind the doors.” She whispers with downcast eyes when she tells this story.

“They are extremely tall. They’re working doing, something. My bed covers over my head, cloak their activities. They will peer over my body, looking to see me sleeping. They don’t know everything. But, if I look at them, their red eyes stare. I can’t see a face. They tell me to, ‘shut up.’ Meaness. That’s all I can say. They’re no good.”

I look at her. Dumbfounded. Hopelessly, there is nothing, I can say. After the hypnosis session, she passed the polygraph, which she agreed to, and I don’t know how to help her. What can I say? 

Standing up to leave my office, she adds on her way out ~

“Doctor, the last time they tried to visit, I give them this look. They no longer bother me. And, now, that I’ve got their look, they seldom pay me, social calls….”

She gave me a haunting stare that passed through me. 

“Oh, by the way, doctor … you may want to get rid of the grand father clock in your hall. It keeps your children up. They can’t sleep after the gongs at midnight occur.”

What? I look at her, but she has shut the door. After a brief pause, I ran after her, but she was gone. Bewildered by her last comment, I was paralyzed. Fear overtook me, as I saw the same look on my son this morning.

Star Children (TEST) By drboylan.com/starkididqstnr.html

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