Sunday, August 30, 2009

Dressed For Supernatural Success or Every Cloud Has Satin Piping!

It seems the only time' I dress up' is for one more court appearance. My only date for often months or years ... at a once upon tumultuous time, was with one more Judge. Wonder what they really wear under those spanking - clean robes? Surely a fleeting glimpse of a smile and a happy heart-on!

Wearing my designer prison striped suit; I am reminded of how I kept my own personal rapist ( - Oct 04 ), whom had previously raped and murdered a 12 year young girl, incarcerated for 30 years. No wonder this model prisoner was on parole ( one year for every one of hers ... ) when he first began stalking me. I have spent more than half of my overly stimulating life, ensuring a very mixed-up male was kept safely, behind bars ... until he died, a mere 6 months past, in that very same, insanely surreal setting. A couple of weeks ago, I actually cried for Robert Hewdlar ( aka Bob Kneiss ) and one torturous mind that became his own private prison. He was forced to live within a tormented hell of his own mis-creating, for most  of his war-torn years. I got off easy!

Liberating oneself should be as simple as donning  our gay, gray and grief-stricken apparel. Not that easy. Stripping down ... buck-naked, to the extreme depth of our despairing soul, is more of what we must do to place ourselves back into our naturally serene state. Alas, again, I am over-dressed for the job a simpleton could fearlessly set forth to successfully do. A wise-man to truly frown upon a woman of such inner means, acting so unkindly unto herself: as to dress in a manner befitting royalty. For it is a peasant, whom in his/her genius, knoweth, that no cloth may replace a heart, utterly torn to shreds or a cup that no longer runneth over. A blind babe and and winged Angel; both privy to precious and pure stirrings of un-wordly beauty, are aware that it is what we don't ever have need to cover ourselves with or unbecomingly become, that makes us healed, happy and whole.

I love to celebrate the sanctity of life, in all it's lusciousness, by saying to whomever need not listen: " Don't I look like a rape victim to you?" Nor would the typical person, really be able to easily tell I had my son taken away a still terrorizing 5 years ago, to be re-united by unconscious courts and many a loveless lawyer, a hair-raising 8 months later. Never need you care to contend with, or count ...  the pimply, white bureacratic asses I kissed. Or, the puss oozing out of pimples, covered up by never lonely lies, a poor make-up job and bad lighting. I am a walking and talking poster girl for fresh and innocent fun. Yet, like a lightening bolt; I can always be trusted to pull out my charm and my 100% silk, pin-striped arm, and dazzle you with my smile and forthrightness. Although articulate and very well-spoken, it is my compassion, forgiveness and sense of divine duty to stand up for justice that make me whom I really and most passionately am.

My life is a poem. I pretty much leave the verses to craft themselves. The weaver of dreams. A lover of life. One blessed child. Sacred spirit to set free. A few of the beauties I admit to so brightly and never lightly be. Ready and perfectly poised, to participate with an innate sense of purpose and healthy self-preservation . I shall resort to shameless time-told tactics to get many a tiresome task accomplished. Relying on inner-stealth to blessedly guide me and my pin- stripes to handsomely hide me ... For only if they see the bright and beaming aura that tirelessly travels wherever I land or happen to be dropped ( like a K-bomb) - then only am I lost!

Love is mine to bestow. No one can ever take away my soaring soul. My heart may someday cease to beat. And, I shall still live forever ... For what I have left upon this shimmering planet is a loving legacy of all that I believe in and am inherently, part thereof. My 'claim to fame' be not of sexy bikini pictures and poster girl postcards (of which I am proud ) from hell's heaven. Ideals. Morals. Ethics. Boundless beauty from within. But my only sin is that I have had so much fun! Out of trash I have created treasure. Out of rags; purposeful pleasure. From rage to sage. One sick and demoralizing saga after another. Chased for an eternity by hyena's that would bite off their own poison tail, if only they were smart enough. Too much genius for mine own good. More goodness than an un-whole load of 'bad men' put together and heaped in an ungodly garbage pile. Piles of dirt to sweetly share ... What do I care? I am the conscious carrier, sender and holder of the almighty and infinite light.

For this reason, above and alone, I shall stay alive for one more Goddess-won fight !!!!

Supernaturally attired and never tired of the Truth, 

Katherine Marion

P. S.

These pretty pictures were captured outside Vancouver courthouse, by an adoring male, a mere 2+ to 3 years ago. After my darling son was delivered home, and the crazy one year contract, fearfully prescribed by MCFD, was finally and legally outlawed. Before my magical Mommy passed away and my shoulder froze for the following 2 years. Now, the ice is rapidly melting ... Who knows, I may even venture forth to find my stripes still stripp'n and tripp'n all over themselves. Especially with a hot pair of hellishly high heels to seemlessly match. Natch!

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