… but I did stumble over this in my virtual wanderings. It’s funny and very relevant for me right now. Personally, I’d love if The Gossip got a kick in the arse every time they spread their fertilizer… A girl can dream!
Ever the little match girl
Shivering outside the hall
Watching people come and go
New and old, all welcomed
With hearts, flowers
Euphemistic hugs and “huns”
But only for the chosen ones
There is no real sisterhood
Behind these walls of glass
Yes. As I wave goodbye
To another stranger
I could throw a rock
To break the walls
Shatter the false illusions
Instead, I’ll square my shoulders
Souldering on with my integrity
Those who choose to listen to a snake’s whispers
Those of tribe hearts, hugs and smileys
Are too false and too shallow
For walking wounded like me
Remain in your palace of glass
Far too hard to make a true effort
And it will come to pass
That truth will be revealed
Duplicity and lies can’t be forever
13 July 2015
Walk a mile in my moccasins
Before you choose
You didn’t climb my mountains
You didn’t ford my white water
There are days that I can barely breathe
When victory is getting off my knees
If you think you’ve a right to judge me
Remaining too indifferent to compare
I hope you aren’t teaching young minds
Your lazy notion of fair
Walk a mile in my moccasins
Before you choose
10 July 2015
I wrote this at the height of the “Gaslighting” phase of my two-year relationship with a Narcissist Predator. It’s really strange to go back and read my poetry and short stories from the period. Such highs! Such lows… So much love and romance but also black despair and suicidal tendencies. Scrolling through my journals, I found this draft and smiled a little. It is a sarcastic satirical and black-humoured piece. I was trying to cope with the assemblage of hoydens he’d gathered by writing about them the way he talked about them – never could figure why they just kept on lurking despite his insistence that “they were stalkers, knew he was engaged, were jealous of me”… Anyywaayy…
What I see now is the inkling of my comprehension of the pattern, how Apaths of varying degrees fit in to my story, lending credence, alibis or window-dressing as he required. Truly amazing, the effort he expended to keep me fooled or manipulate me to do certain things (my favourite was “Baby, would you comment more on my blog? People love to see us as a real couple, not just our books”) The funniest part is that “The Ladies” written about here are indeed real people, unlike some of the ones he created. Bruce Jenner had nothing on my poet! And I can actually smile, if ruefully at that today.
When I look back on how it all went down, I see it as if I was in a horror movie, a very bad, B-grade horror movie.
You know the ones, where you’re in a normal place, doing regular things and you look up to see that everything has gone to black and white. What you thought were people have all morphed into scary doll creatures or zombies and they’ve all turned to stare at you. Meanwhile, bit players drop in and out, talking to the zombie vampire people, buying their coffees, talking and laughing and totally oblivious to the fact that we are now all in a Hammer Film production. You look at this and wonder, like I still do; how can they not see the evil intent? How can they not know that those smiling mouths are full of lies and those pious old gals, gardening grannies and wholesome looking farmers’ daughter types are all bent on messing with lives out of unbridled jealousy and hatred and for their own twisted amusement? You want to yell, “Don’t open the door!” to the protagonist but… it’s you.
All of that came later though. When I first stumbled across it, the cafe was a fun place to be, good eats, good coffee and the owner had a smile and a poem for everyone. It was easy to see that the regulars at the banquette table at the back were indulging in some pretty serious geriatric flirting with the Café owner. He took it good naturedly, and it was nice to see that even those who could barely spell; always received a kind word of encouragement. There were no signs of the undercurrents of crazy when everyone connected to this story first met. Actually, in a Stepford Wives way, the regulars welcomed newcomers in.
That’s how I first became acquainted with them. The Ladies. Or as I later came to think of them: The Post Menopausal & Poseur Poetaster Club, of the Internet Poetry Café.
I like alliteration. Deal with it.
You remember how it was, right? Lots of laughs, inspiration and folks coming and going at all hours, The Ladies gathered at their table; Hist’mina Munchhausen Fibthorne – “Wheezy” to her friends, Maia Witless Artesian, Guerensy Rime Mooerson and Cheri Del’Usional Aprils. All chatting it up with the cafe owner, smiles, moues, coy glances and “What do you think of my stories?” “Can you help me with this sonnet?”
Who ever would have guessed that such ordinary looking grannies, could harbour thoughts worthy of “Arsenic and Old Lace”, not to mention a healthy dose of “Fatal Attraction?” Fitting analogy that. A tale of sinister plots, deceptive old dolls and a plot twist: married and attached gals who would lie, cheat and write their own men out of the script for a chance to get into the handsome Café owner’s pants.
I never would have guessed, naive I suppose. I saw a nice place to stop in to, my battered journals in hand and to share some thoughts with the regulars, The Ladies of the Banquette. Mentors, right? That’s what I was thinking at first.
Monsters, more like.
More like indeed! Like attracts like doesn’t it? As the Café grew in popularity, newcomers joined the original self-appointed harem. Des DoubledipmyBunn and Anglésa BlueWindyChapeau decided to write themselves in. Fortunately, the Café owner was more a fan of Albert Camus than Archie comics.
Then there was me. Quietly observing, scribbling away as I always had . How could I know that the Café owner would take an interest in my stories? Who ever would have thought that this would so stir the ire of The Ladies and later, their minions? Not me. That’s for damn sure. I walked in there like a lamb to slaughter, they had their poisoned pens aimed and the hot flashes got hotter.
But that’s another story for another day…
It’s always so painfully obvious when a post of this nature is in order.
People do not volunteer negative opinions, slander or lies about another person without some sort of personal agenda.
If you blindly act on unverified information, you do the victim a huge disservice.
Worse, you do a disservice to yourself.
I’m a Law Clerk. Both sides are heard before judgement is passed.
Makes sense, n’est-ce pas?
I haven’t shared an NPD post in a while. I’m at a point where I don’t read any but the most informative and trusted people. I also avoid anyone who was involved as best I can.
I’ve referred to these people as “Apaths”, they are also known as “Flying Monkeys”, as they do the Narc’s dirty work. Bree’s article gives excellent examples of how the Narc brainwashes (triangulates) people into believing their lies and acting on them.
My former fiancé was a master at all four.
If any of the below sound familiar, you are likely dealing with a Narcissist and getting good information is essential. I can be reached through the “message me” tab , if you’d like links.
There is already a lot of information about triangulation, one of the favorite manipulation tools used by narcissists and people who suffer from “cluster B” personality disorders. However, I think it’s important in any kind of relationship, that we learn to identify the early warning signs and red flags, when interacting with people who display narcissistic traits or sociopathy. This way we can better arm ourselves from being exploited and abused and make informed decisions about who we allow in our lives, as well as, set appropriate boundaries to avoid and protect us from being negatively impacted by these toxic interactions.
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Welcome my dear
I’ve noticed you before
I know why you’re here
Peruse and digest
It’ll all become clear
Your intuition is correct
It’s what draws you near
You were mentioned to me
A whisper in my ear
You may find some answers
You’ve nothing to fear
So say hello Missouri
Let your vision be clear
It’s not what you want
Though it’s what you should hear
15 December 2014