Losing a Soul

Poetry These were written early in my new sobriety.  I had many dark experiences to process from my past world of addiction.  Poetry helped me release the darkness in my soul.  I recommend writing as therapy to all.

        “SAVORY STEW”

 A tall tale of white lies

Circling buzzards fill the skies.

A smoke screen before my face

Silly, Silly human race

Tantalizing bits of chaos and schemes

In my massive book of lost dreams

I search the pages all the night

To find my truth alive and bright

Restore my sight oh sacred ones

I am oppressed beneath my thumb

Fear and pain lets not forget

My tainted life poached in regret

I have worked so hard to forge these anchors

Of safe harbor and greasy cankers

Slippery slides I am bungled up

Another day another sup

Free me now from sticky glue

Then I’ll reject my savory stew


            Of Fright______________________________________________




Savage Soul Mate imposters ravage through the menu of souls

Be chaste lest your name be embossed on that hearty list

These menacing mud made men full of belial and lust

Fan the nations for available feed

Succumb just once to their perilous passion

In the fashion of an erroneous kiss and the hunt for your soul will begin

They come as the answer to a dream

Mending your heart as they salivate and scheme

Come to hearts home my sensual lover

I will show you earths fruit as I pull you asunder

Your sweet simple soul so unmarred and gold

Dances before them as a succulent steak they wish to devour                                                   so dance sweet soul and what of my soul’s true mate?


“LOSING A SOUL”                    ╪

Written by Dorothy Ruth Stirrum


As I went through my grandmother’s attic, I found a strange old journal labeled, “The Journal of Forgetting”.  Its pages were yellow and empty.  It drew me in with curious arousal. In my silent pain, I spun the web of forgetting.


I began to write upon the age old paper as it magically absorbed my life’s emotionally debilitating burdens.  The children I have born with my soul and have lost somehow.  My grief and mourning seep into the lines of the uncanny ink as I write.  I recall the lovers found in bliss by my minds eyes’ sensual allure, of whom I have thrown away and displaced for causes of betrayal and the abrupt stroke of a strong swift slap.  Memory soaks into the magic, accepting pages.


As my essence of pain fades, I studiously continue to inscribe my lost childhood dreams.  A tear drops on the thick, yellowed paper of old it smolders and disappears.  I recant the love I so innocently presented to those I perceived as lovingly, responsible.  I remember that I was only a waif to them as they strongly crushed my world with selfish blows of abuse.  The page is full.  I watch as the ancient journal, without my hand, turns itself to the next page.  It is as if crystal lights are dancing on the book as it draws light from faded sun.  Is there more? Must I forget all my painful memories to be at peace?  I guard my pen.


Curiously and cautiously, I turned to the back of the book.  In small print of blood, the words appeared “Stealing a Soul: Volume 27″.  I gasped!  Subtly and seductively, this magic book of relief would supernaturally steal my God breathed life.  Painful memories, though some may be, they made me a grand member of humanity.   The tragedies made me who I am today by the choices I made in spite of yesterday.  I realized that if dealt with by expression and acceptance, these burdens forge in me the very character that makes men faithful, understanding and wise.


I left the book behind for those who may choose not to experience life and truth in its full color spectrum.  Or perhaps this book of illusion will lure another in to awaken to life!  For by accepting what I wrote in that journal, I had accepted myself.

Well perhaps these old poems of mine were partly prophecy showing examples of the KJV supernatural bible changes.  Soul Hunting is now scriptural.

And say, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Woe to the women that sew pillows to all armholes, and make kerchiefs upon the head of every stature to hunt souls! Will ye hunt the souls of my people, and will ye save the souls alive that come unto you?


And will ye pollute me among my people for handfuls of barley and for pieces of bread, to slay the souls that should not die, and to save the souls alive that should not live, by your lying to my people that hear your lies?


RIDICULOUS SCRIPTURE (NEW Mandela Effected at best)

Wherefore thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I am against your pillows, wherewith ye there hunt the souls to make them fly, and I will tear them from your arms, and will let the souls go, even the souls that ye hunt to make them fly.
Your kerchiefs also will I tear, and deliver my people out of your hand, and they shall be no more in your hand to be hunted; and ye shall know that I am the LORD.


Because with lies ye have made the heart of the righteous sad, whom I have not made sad; and strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his wicked way, by promising him life:


Therefore ye shall see no more vanity, nor divine divinations: for I will deliver my people out of your hand: and ye shall know that I am the LORD.


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