Category Archives: Writing Poetry

Jan28

The Us of Millions Becomes the Me of One, Thank God!

Posted on by
Standard
The Us of Millions Becomes the Me of One, Thank God!

January 28, 2025, 2:15 p.m.
I’ve decided I’m going to try and write everyday, as much as possible. The question, and the problem, is, what do I write about? I’ve never been very good at extemporaneous spontaneity. My mind doesn’t work that fast. I watch TV shows like Who’s Line Is It Anyway? and, in between laughing helplessly at the goofy stuff they do, I wonder how they can come up with all that hilarity so quickly, without thinking about it ahead of time. They manage to pull it off seemingly without rehearsals or any kind of preplanning at all. I don’t know if that’s what actually happens, but that’s certainly the way it looks.

I’m going to include another one of my poems, called The Us of Millions. I wrote it in March of 1990, 13 years before I was integrated in March of 2003. When I wrote this poem, I didn’t think wholeness was possible. Thank God, I was wrong!

My life is composed of blanks and holes,
each one a fragment from a shattered whole.

Each thought a shard,
each event a splinter of death,
camouflaged ground-brown
with the mud of denial.

My life it was,
the priceless vase that contained my soul,
that was my Self,
smashed by maddened tyranny
while yet under potter’s hands.

I purge away the mud
with tears of remembering,
only to find that what was can no longer be,
my baby Self shattered
into splintered confusion.

There is no glue that piece to piece can bring
to peace,
and the I that was Me is forever
the Us of Millions.

S.A. Kuriakos & Elliot
©March 6, 1990

Well, that was fun! I’m learning all kinds of new things in the process of writing blog posts. I decided to include the above poem, and I figured out how to do it using this thing called a Verse Block in WordPress, but I couldn’t figure out how to get out of the Verse Block and back into the regular Paragraph Block. It turns out it’s as simple as clicking on a different button, and I was making a much bigger deal out of it than I needed to. Way cool! Blogging is getting simpler and easier all the time!

Yippee!!

It’s now 6:03 on the 28th, and I’ve managed to accomplish a great deal with God’s help in a little under four hours.

I’m very grateful and glad to know that what I thought was hopeless back when I wrote that poem, wasn’t hopeless at all, but only appeared to be impossible to fix. I forgot that with God ALL things are possible,

But Jesus looked at them and said, “With men it is impossible, but not with God; for with God all things are possible.” ~ Mark 10:27, NKJV.

1Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: 2by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that  tribulation worketh patience; 4and patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5and hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. ~ Romans 5:1-5, KJV.

I love this passage from the Book of Romans, because it sort of tells the story of my life in a nutshell, and I’m so grateful to God for all the marvelous work He’s done in me to bring me as far as He has. I give Him all the glory, because I certainly couldn’t have done any of it myself, and if He’s brought me this far, I know He’ll take me the rest of the way until my healing is complete,

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. Philippians 1:6, NLT.

And with that I think I’m done with today’s writing!

Thank you Jesus!!

Jan24

Writer’s Block Is Not a Block of Writers…

Posted on by
Standard
Writer’s Block Is Not a Block of Writers…

…though it might be nice if it were, because then I’d have people around to motivate me to write. I’ve had the hardest time even wanting to write, which is unusual for me, because I love writing. Committing my thoughts to (computer) paper is one of my favorite things to do, and when I can’t do it because I’ve lost the desire to write is frustrating and heartbreaking all rolled into one.

But I have to do something!! So maybe I’ll just sit down and write. Write what? I don’t know, but I have to do something to break the logjam! So I’ll write whatever comes into my head, or maybe I’ll use some of my poems. That’s what I’ll do, I’ll use some of my poems. The first one is called The Murder of a Soul.

Many eyes watching, but ignoring
the obvious pain, the visible wound.
Many ears hearing, but denying
the silent scream, the cry of agony.
Many people knowing, but spurning
the knowledge of the murder of a soul.

But…

Though eyes ignored, the stars saw.
Though ears denied, the rocks heard.
Though people spurned, God knew
and wept.

S.A. Kuriakos & Elliot
©July 14, 1990

I wrote this poem after I figured out that I started picking holes in my cuticles when I was about two years old because I was trying to get someone, anyone, to notice that I was in peril because of Harry’s threats and abuse.

O earth, do not conceal my blood. Let it cry out on my behalf. ~ Job 16:18, NLT.

I couldn’t use words because Harry had told me he would kill me if I told anyone what he was doing to me, and he played Russian Roulette with one of his revolvers between my legs so I would understand that he meant what he said.

There was no way that I could know at two or three years old that the gun had blanks in it, so I believed him, and had to become a liar as a result. I forgive him for ruining my reputation! It took many years before anyone would believe that I wasn’t a liar, when I had no choice but to lie if I wanted to stay alive!

I forgive him for planting terror in my heart! I forgive him for being a monster!

And then there’s this little ditty, called simply Time.

Time.
A broad subject from beginning to end.
Irretrievable, irreplaceable commodity.
The only substance
present since just after God.
Visibly invisible,
invented by God
to forever
and indelibly
remind us of our mortality
and His immortality.

S.A. Kuriakos & Elliot
©June 21, 1990

And then there’s this lovely little poem written by one of my alters named Courtney, who was about three or four years old. She was very sweet and quite lovable. It’s called Things I Like. And because she was such a little girl her spelling and grammar weren’t very good at times.

I like ice cream.
My tongue becomes chocolate
for awhile.

I like butterflies.
They flit through the air
like rainbows dancing.

I like pussywillows.
Ther small furry kittys
on a stick.

I like crayons.
I can draw pictures
of inside my heart.

I like bears.
Ther fuzzy peple
safe to love.

I like hearts.
Maybe one will love me
someday?

S.A. Kuriakos & Courtney
©July 15, 1992

I wrote all these poems a long time ago, while I was still multiple. It would be another ten or more years before I would be integrated, and once I was integrated, sadly, I was no longer able to write poetry. For some reason that gift was lost once the alters who did that were integrated into the whole of who I am. I’ve always believed that writing poetry was a gift from God, and I’ve asked Him repeatedly to be able to do it again. I guess maybe I just need to be patient. On the other hand, the poetry was always used as an outlet for our pain, so maybe I need to be willing to give up that purpose to God, as well as be willing to accept another reason and motivation for its use.

And last but not least, there’s this one, called Remember Lot’s Wife, or Pillar of Salt.

Never look back,
your past will only haunt
and regret you.

Sweat drips
in salt-bloody heaps,
as I strain forward
while looking backward,
and run into trees on the way
because I can’t see the future
for looking at the past.

A pillar of salt is my destiny
unless I learn
to keep my heart looking forward.

S.A. Kuriakos
©January 23, 2025

Cool! I guess I’m not done writing poetry! I just finished that poem myself, without benefit of alters. Granted, I only edited the last couple of words, but it’s a start. It’s a start! Thank you Jesus!!

I started writing this post with the goal in mind of ending the long period of writer’s block, and just the fact that I was able to get as much down as I did with all the poems is very pleasing to me. But I like to end my posts with Scripture, so…

12Not that I have already attained this – that is, I have not already been perfected – but I strive to lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus also laid hold of me. 13Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have attained this. Instead I am single-minded: Forgetting the things that are behind and reaching out for the things that are ahead, 14with this goal in mind, I strive toward the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 3:12-14, New English Translation.

Jun8

Back to Sweetness and Light

Posted on by
Standard
Back to Sweetness and Light

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30: 5, NKJV.

My last post, A Time for Every Purpose Under Heaven, was a particularly difficult one, as were a number of the posts previous to it. So I’ve decided that those posts were the weeping part of Psalm 30:5, and from here on, at least for a while, morning has come and everything is going to be joyful, as it says in the last part of the verse. Thus my title. No more doom and gloom, and back to sweetness and light. The last post was an important one that needed to be brought out in the open, but I need a break.

So this post is going to be a meandering potpourri of stuff I’m thinking about, and things I’m learning in my Bible reading, etc., etc. With that in mind, I found the coolest verse in Job 9 the other day. Well, actually I found a whole lot of cool verses in Job, partly because that’s where I’m reading, and partly because I love the Book of Job.

God is wise in heart and mighty in strength. Who has hardened himself against Him and prospered? ~ Job 9: 4, NKJV.

And I especially like the way the NIV renders it,

His wisdom is profound, His power is vast. Who has resisted Him and come out unscathed? Job 9:4, NIV.

Have you ever read a passage of Scripture and come across a verse you never saw before, and thought, “Where did that come from?” It was there all along, but you just missed it. That’s what happened to me with Job 9:4. When I read that verse I thought, “I’ve never seen that verse before!”, and then I was reminded of Pharaoh and the ten plagues (see Exodus 7 through Exodus 12), and King Herod Agrippa I (see Acts 12:20-23), and Ananias and Sapphira (see Acts 5:1-11), and most of all Lucifer himself (see Isaiah 14:12-15, Ezekiel 28:13-17, and Luke 10:17-18). All those people thought they were better than God in one way or another, and they found out the hard way that they weren’t. I don’t EVER want to be in that position! I’ve known for a long time that I would make a terrible God. In fact I wrote a post with that title, I Would Make a Terrible God back in September of 2019.

And then there’s this juicy passage from Job 40,

9Have you an arm like God? Or can you thunder with a voice like His? 10Then adorn yourself with majesty and splendor, And array yourself with glory and beauty. 11Disperse the rage of your wrath; look on everyone who is proud, and humble him. 12Look on everyone who is proud, and bring him low; tread down the wicked in their place. 13Hide them in the dust together, bind their faces in hidden darkness. 14Then I will also confess to you that your own right hand can save you. ~ Job 40: 9-14, NKJV.

It seems to me that God is saying to Job, “Job, can you be Me? If you can, then you can save yourself!” And since I know that no one can be God except for God Himself, quite obviously, no one, including Job, can save himself.

There are a number of other fascinating and interesting passages from Job that I could expound upon, but I think I’ll stop here. I love God’s Word, and I could go on and on talking about all the cool stuff I’ve found, but if I did that I’d be doing nothing but writing all day long. And while that would be a lot of fun, I would’t get anything else done. My cats would go hungry ~ well, maybe not. I doubt they’d let me get away with that.

I will worship toward Your holy temple, and praise Your name for Your lovingkindness and Your truth; for You have magnified Your word above all Your name. ~ Psalm 138:2, NKJV.

My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the King; my tongue is the pen of a ready writer. ~ Psalm 45:1, NKJV.

And finally, as long as I’m meandering, here’s a poem I wrote a long time ago. It’s called “Words” and it was written back in September of 1991 while I was still multiple.

So many words in this wide world of mine—
There must be a billion, three-million and nine,
Or maybe a trillion—I know not of more,
But even a million’s enough for a door.

Words full of laughter, of light, and of hope,
Words that paint pictures for those who must grope
Through darkness and longing ’til dreams become real
And light in their tunnel means safety to feel.

Scrivening onward, word pictures I’ll paint
So others when thirsty won’t give up and faint.
Words will build true homes from castles on air
Where laughter and rainbows take place of despair.

I think that’s it. I’m done meandering. It’s been kind of fun, and I give all the glory to God. He’s the One who gave me the ability to write poetry in the first place, even if I haven’t been able to do it in awhile. Maybe it’ll come back someday. Even the featured image is kind of meandering. It’s a photograph of a beautiful hummingbird that I found, and I’ve only recently figured out how to add that, so I decided to try it. How cool is that!

God is SOOO GOOD!!!

Mar8

I Think It’s Called Writer’s Block…

Posted on by
Standard

…and I think I have it. As a consequence this may be a very SHORT post, because I can’t think of ANYTHING to say ~ which isn’t at all helpful for someone whose job is writing. Maybe I’ll include one of my poems. If nothing else it will increase the word count.

Words

So many words in this wide world of mine ~

 There must be a billion, three-million and nine,

Or maybe a trillion ~ I know not of more,

  But even a million’s enough for a door.

 

    Words full of laughter, of light, and of hope,

     Words that paint pictures for those who must grope

     Through darkness and longing ’til dreams become real

    And light in their tunnel means safety to feel.

 

    Scrivening onward, word pictures I’ll paint

     So others when thirsty won’t give up and faint.

    Words will build true homes from castles on air

     Where laughter and rainbows take place of despair.

                                          S.A. Kuriakos & Wordsworth, ©September 28, 1991

I wish there was less space between the lines, but I’ve yet to figure out how to fix it. I’ve wanted to include poetry in my posts for quite awhile, but the spacing between the lines has always bothered me, so I haven’t done it until now, and the only reason I’m doing it now is because I’m desperate for content.

So this is my very short writer’s block post. I certainly hope I can figure out what’s causing it so I can deal with it and get back to writing freely and easily!

My heart is stirred by a beautiful song. I say, “I have composed this special song for the king; my tongue is as skilled as the stylus of an experienced scribe.” ~ Psalm 45: 1, NET.

 

Apr6

Secret’s Delight

Posted on by
Standard

I’ve been wanting to write something, anything, for several days, but the words have eluded me, nasty things. They’ve been just beyond my grasp.

As if words were living things…

Which they’re not, but they feel alive when I can’t find them to get them down on paper. They’re certainly alive in my mind at least.

It’s frustrating when I can’t write, because it feels like the words are trapped inside with no way out. Kind of like me throughout my childhood. In fact, when I was multiple I had an alter whose name was Secret who kept me from writing. It was her job to keep things secret and hidden from me, and I almost always found it extremely difficult to write because of her activity inside. She kept the words hidden behind blank thoughts and clouded minds; in other words, general confusion ~ something I experienced a lot of back then.

Thankfully, since God integrated me in 2003, the confusion is almost completely gone, and lately, I’ve been able to write almost prolifically ~ at least prolifically for me, if the number of entries here is any indication. I haven’t been able to write poetry, which is disappointing, but hopefully that will come with time.

I love writing poetry. It makes me feel free. There’s something about being able to write like that, even though it’s highly structured (I like writing poetry that rhymes), that makes me feel brilliant and uninhibited.

Maybe that sounds a little arrogant because I said that something makes me feel brilliant. Let me explain. Poetry is something that’s fairly new for me. Most of my life I couldn’t make sense of poetry, much less write it. It was a complete mystery to me. Then in September of 1989 I went on a retreat with other abuse victims, and while I was there I met a couple of women who were survivors of Satanic Ritual Abuse.

As they were talking about their experiences, what they were saying resonated with me, and I began to wonder if SRA was a part of my background. The thought of it terrified and horrified me. What I’d already remembered was appalling and shocking. To think that the adults in my life, who I was supposed to be able to trust, were guilty of such heinous crimes was beyond my comprehension, much less that they could be guilty of the kinds of crimes that were perpetrated on children by people in satanic cults.

So I came home from that retreat and wrote my first poem. It was called, prosaically enough, My First Pome. It wasn’t very good, but it was a start, and given that I’d never written anything remotely like that before, I think it was incredible. Here it is:

My First Pome

 I want to write poetical,

                             but how do I start?

The words are tangled up

and trapped in my heart.

If I open the door

they’ll come tumbling out,

Jumbled up letters

through an itty-bit spout.

I wrote that on October 1, 1989, and I’ve been able to write poetry ever since. Also, interestingly, I’ve been able to understand others’ poetry as well, something that just thrills me. Back in 2010 I was able to take a writing class at UC Irvine where we had to write a paper on T.S. Eliot’s The Four Quartets. We each had to pick one of the four quartets, and write a paper on the role of time in that quartet. And I was able to complete the assignment! In fact, I discovered things in the poem that the professor hadn’t seen! How cool is that? God is so good! I had so much fun writing that paper!

So that’s my poetry-writing history. I haven’t been able to write any poetry for awhile, but I don’t expect the gift God gave me has gone away for good. I don’t know what’s blocking it, but if it’s like the rest of my writing, I’m hoping it’ll come back once the block has been removed. I’m hoping God will show me what’s blocking it and help me get it back.