Am I Finally Broken, Never To Be Repaired?

I am lost.

I am all alone in a crowded world.

A cold world for sure.

It’s not like it was during my youth.

Society has changed. The people haven’t, but their ‘society‘ has.

So, I am left to ask you, the total stranger, am I finally broken, never to be repaired?

I blame most my demise on the era I went through my puberty in.

That sliver of time between the 1950’s and it’s gospel /bluegrass/country & Western musically influenced attitude and the 1960’s Dawning of Aquarius/LSD/Frank Zappa cultural shock era.

I embraced the latter lifestyle tightly. I still do to this day. Peace, Love & Hippie Dope – the artist eccentricity creating chaos in my heart.

My choice to bear the weight being a vagabond twelve year old hippie nomad led me into a world where feelings were real and emotions ran free. Everything was black and white.

It is what it is. Never sugar coat reality.

I was always partaking in one or more exploratory excursions into the expanded conciseness mindset.

The artist within me caused an eccentric side. I loved too honestly. I angered too deep. I was a nonconformist.

I was walking counterclockwise in a clockwise world.

My analytical side over examined all and everything within my realm of life.

The ten years of chasing Her Majesty, The Black Dragon, across her tinfoil highway did not help.

I have lived over six decades so far.

My life, or lives, has/have taken five autobiographical books thus far to enlighten ‘others‘.

I certainly have not lived a ‘normal‘ set of lives.

In a confessional way you could say that I have lived a tragic and chaotic youth.

Yet, from these sixty-one year old clouded eyes, I would confess from my standpoint that I merely ‘lived’ my life.

No one sees their life as it is perceived through the eyes of others.

“What is my greatest regret? you ask.”

LOVING TRULY, MADLY & DEEPLY”, I must answer.

I was a liar, cheat, thief, punk, gangster and killer in ALL aspects of all my lives – EXCEPT WHEN IT CAME TO LOVING SOMEONE.

I can go to Helheim or Valhalla knowing that in the matter of love, I was devoted one hundred percent into staying faithful, loving truly, madly, deeply and I never held back from confessing my love to my beloved.

AND BY DOING SO I HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF TEARS. I HAVE LIVED LOVE LOCKED INTO A FANTASY I PRAYED WAS A REALITY.

A falsehood created by overthinking and over loving.

I only had a few true loves in my life.

All of which I dove heart first into.

My eccentric artist side painted fairytale portraits of family bliss on the canvas of my emotions.

My first true love being my teenage sweetheart of eight years.

She destroyed my heart by giving away my first born son and then cutting her own throat. Causing herself severe, irreversible brain damage, while I sat in the discomfort of Her Majesty’s Super Maximum Penitentiary.

The nerve of me to pay my debt to society!!!

Then there was my first wife.

I paid her mother fifty dollars for her.

True story.

Six weeks later we were legally married.

To each other.

Eight months later we were divorced.

From each other.

My Mother being horrifically murdered was more than her snitty self could handle.

I loved thinking we had been in love.

Number three lasted thirty-two years.

It was true love. No lie.

It became tainted by my rebel ways, my eccentric behavior and my constantly venturing into the Dark side.

This led to our growing apart from our original selves.

Not to say we didn’t have a good run.

We had many, many good years.

In today’s world it takes but one or two bad years to bury thirty good ones.

Unfortunately, my becoming a victim of a tragic industrial crippling accident was the catalyst of a ripple effect that ripped our family apart.

Our love for each other lost in the typhoon of modern life.

Again, the artist within had painted many a lifescape and my hands molded sculptures of everlasting bliss.

This lay cause to becoming greatly damaged emotionally upon the marriage disolution.

Then came my greatest and most cherished love. I am so deeply in love with her that I hurt.

I believe she strongly loves me, also.

But, she cannot express or confess the trueness of her love. She is robbed of enjoying the escasty and bliss of being truly loved. It was stolen by her being the victim of an expert manipulation of a Narcissistic Meth Head.

His brainwashing cut deep wounds across this beautiful soul’s heart.

My artistic eccentricity is causing me to self destruct. I have been living in a self potraited fantasy of living the rest of my life wrapped in the warmth of loving only her.

And she is brainwashed into believing and living in the shadows of fear planted by a sick excuse of a man.

My heart is hers – I call her “Mi Corazon” – for she is my heart. Each beat whispers her name.

I am trapped in my desires to be her man so badly that I cry.

I have to love her one hundred percent.

I am hurting myself loving her.

She is not capable of dropping her past abuses and allowing true love into her life.

A life she would honestly enjoy. If only she were capable of accepting affection.

I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

And I cry at the minimum of twelve hours per day.

Not over dying of cancer.

I cry because the kind soul buried deep within me cannot find the resources to show my truest love how to allow herself to be loved truly and faithfully.

I do not wish to die knowing she will live her life afterwards full of unretractable regrets.

She deserves a far better life than she has ever known.

I have earned my chance to finally be a real man and love the way love is portrayed to be.

Am I living a fantasy brought forth by the eccentric hippie attitude within?

Be a Lover Not a Liar.

I died the day I started to live.

I lived the day after I died.

Sounds strange. This I know.

What is death to you?

I won’t get into the details of my times experiencing death. I have wrote many blogs and a few books concerning that.

Death changed my perspective of life. It brought a sacred logic to the way I look at everyday existence.

Life became more precious and at the same time became lackadaisical. It is black and white with gray areas.

The gray areas are what defines our quality of life.

Wander too far into the gray and you may become trapped in a lightless world.

All living life requires ‘light’.

The greatest thing I have learned in my 61 years is that life without ‘Light’ can never be enjoyable.

Modern society has become so automated and stressful that the average soul only ‘exists’. They are alive but not living.

Love has become a mere word. It is spoken too freely. It has become almost meaningless to many.

Love is a word I speak ONLY when I truly mean it. If I tell you that I love you then I mean my heart, my soul and my whole existence loves you.

This is a simple but very deep message.

Don’t lie about loving and for God’s sake don’t love lying.

Do not play god with the hearts of others. No person has the right to destroy another person’s life.

Never ever cheat on a partner you have told you love. For by doing so you become a soulless liar.

Be a lover not a liar.

Let’s bring morality back into society.

Until then, I remain, Dann – just as I am.

Mi Leona de Mi Corazon

My life has always been a storm.

I have always persevered.

I have met joy and danced
with demons most feared.

My rocking horse was a motorcycle.

My playground
the streets.

Now I found love

I feel relief.

For in this heart

I’ll forever keep.

To know I have a hand to hold when comes time

to leave
this Earth so cold.

Her smile alone,
Was all I needed

To vow my love as my heart was seeded.

Six decades of Dark and Light
This joining feels so right.

Yes, I found love in a smile

One moment in time

One Angel’s glance

Forever my heart shall dance.

EVEN TOUGH GUYS SHED TEARS

I have had the anguish of  losing many friends and family over the past sixty-one years.

I have lost a few of my children.

My mother was murdered and made me promise on her death bed not to retaliate. Hard promise to keep, yet, I kept it.

I normally do not cry over death.

But, I cry over my dear friend’s, Sheena Eve’s, passing. It was such a tragic one.

I cry everyday. Every morning. Every night.

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When I awake and she is the first thought in my mind, I know she is telling me all will work out. I miss her and so do all of her friends. Sheena Eve was a living Angel and now as she sits in Valhalla she is a celestial Angel.

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Yet, although I shed no tears over my sons passing or even that of my mother, I cry many tears daily over Sheena Eve’s. The only passing in my life that has affected me this way.

My LightHouse gift (curse) of seeing dead people and premonition does not allow me the courtesy  of blocking my emotions.

And therefore every time I see Sheena Eve’s pictures, hear her name or even briefly think of her I cry. No matter where I am. I do so proudly as there is no shame or embarrassment in loving someone so greatly that it hurts.

My tears are painful, but not sorrowful.  They are happy tears formed by having Sheena Eve in my life. For Sheena Eve and our  good friend Miss V having saved my life at the lowest point of my existence. An act of love that I shall ever be grateful for.

Best part of my sorrow is the joy I will have when I ascend.

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I shall die with a smile knowing that this time I will not return like the past seven times I died.

I will take Sheena Eve’s hand, walk to the portal and all will be well. 

She will continue to watch over us from the Heavens. Giving an Angelic hug to those of us who need one. 

My beautiful Irish Guardian Angel


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Until the Creator’s allow us to sit together once again, I shall remain Dann, just as I am

And these tears will always sting my face … — 

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An Excerpt From “UNKZ – A Canadian Cosmonaut”

Here is a tidbit from the final and fourth volume of myWalk With Dann Collection”. It will wrap up the Walk with me through my lives. Giving you an insight as to who I became after the first three quarters of my life.

I made the choice, willingly, to abandon the family lifestyle, to escape foster care and to leave my paternal home. Yet, I was only twelve when that decision was made. I often think back to what may have happened if someone had tried to reason with me regarding my overview of life and society. My father and step-mother tried. But, to no avail.

I was too “uncomfortable” in a family setting.  The first book I remembering reading was “Stranger In A Strange Land” authored in 1961 by the great Robert A. Heinlein. I read it in 1966, I was nine years old . I immediately identified with the main character, Valentine  Michael Smith. For I always felt like a stranger in a strange land. I followed Heinlein’s writings all my days since.

I still do.

I have never felt like I belonged in this space/time continuum. Not one day in my over sixty years.

I was an avid lover of science, science fiction and science fantasy books and knowledge all my youth. I also loved reading encyclopedias and all knowledgable text. While my peers were reading The Hardy Boys I was digesting Tom Swift. While they were laughing at Archie Comics I was reading Mad Magazine and Carlos Castaneda. His ‘A Separate Reality’ touched my innermost core. Perhaps giving birth to my belief that my reality is not that of the ‘Normal“.

I often joke about my being left behind by ‘The Mothership’. I believe now that I was subconsciously stating “I was left behind by my mother.”  For that was a truth. A hard truth. A heart stab I have wandered through every single moment of life with. Always awakening the demons in the back streets of my mind.

 

My life in book form available at:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17549697.LightHouse_Dann_Verner

https://amazon.com/author/lighthouseverner

E-Book versions available at https://www.amazon.ca/ – search “LightHouse Verner”

Paperback versions at https://amazon.com/author/lighthouseverner