Worldwide Campaign to stop the Abuse and Torture of Mind Control/DEWs



A group for people to share poems stories, videos and other forms of art that encorperate what TIs experience.

Members: 42
Latest Activity: Dec 13, 2015

Discussion Forum

Does the pain you feel from being a TI drive you to create as a means of escape?

Started by David ofTomorrow. Last reply by The Rose - Sharon Poet Jan 9, 2013. 10 Replies

Creating is often the only way I can get away from the horror of my day to day experience. Right now I like to write, but I feel some visual arts coming along in my mind. It's nice to feel creative when there is so much distruction that comes along…Continue

Please help to edit my poem

Started by Soleilmavis. Last reply by Soleilmavis May 29, 2012. 2 Replies

I write a poem, but I am not good in poem, can you help me to edit it? The arching willows hang downward being reluctant to part;They weaved early the old spring magic.Without fertile ground, they grew to shady trees;They were getting stronger and…Continue

Tags: peom

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Comment by David ofTomorrow on December 13, 2015 at 5:55am

A pillow of cream delights the mind. Blue breaks haze above red brick.

Puss that had coagulated around the poison injected slowly and methodically by the spider woman, was spewn forth as the taut skin stretched to the tearing of its thin membrane.

                Oxygen flows inward. Stars inside the mind alight.

Clumsy fingers brushed the product of some woman’s selfishness—blonde, always she was a blonde—out of the meat of my soul. Relief was instant and gratifying, but the burn of the inflamed flesh surrounding the open wound remained.

                Concrete moves below. Vectors lead forward.

The reverberation of her name moved outward from the eye of the storm in my flesh in waves that stained a path incessantly onward toward a manifest destiny.

                Invitations offered from nearby smiles. Color flashes bright within on looking eyes.

The puss falls to the ground, offering itself to the leeches waiting to use its lactic energy to create nightmares among the shadows of future nights of fleeting rest.

                Dancing vines of green bearing flags of color surrounding brushes holding the artist’s oils bed in Tera Cota vessels hang supported by metal links that warm to sun’s touch. A bee lifts off to carry the load of pollen to the colorful neighbors dwelling within their Tera Cota homes that line the traveler’s path.

The shadow of those workers above who weave a pattern of life within Miss Information’s garden fall upon the eager feeding of those who succumb to the intoxication instigated by the fraud within the puss that lies dying upon the grey ground.

The storm that is the war between those playing chess on the board of humanity’s consciousness is waged without notice due to the song of the passing machines and the smell of the invisible gases that they leave in their wake.







Comment by David ofTomorrow on May 10, 2015 at 11:39pm
The early morning warmth of light cast upon my pillow washed awareness into my mind.

The stark contrast between the language of the Sun and the language of the parasite within my brain wrestled my consciousness into a knot of pain that eminated outward from the marrow within my bones.

The wrestling match continues as I tag my teammate, hatred, to enter the ring with its rush of violent wishes for the parasite and those who it vomits into me.
It's the maggot's words that I hear most often. But, underneath in the murk is the voices of ugly intruders that ride the spew that settles into the meet of my being like inequity poisons a community.

I focus again on the surface of off-white linen that the ray of light is warming to its touch. Fully understanding what is offered, I breath deeply, then call hatred back to its cage. The new day deserves better as the starting gun makes its claim.
Comment by David ofTomorrow on May 10, 2015 at 2:49am
The dust swirls around the ankles of the men who run to the edge of the bluff that drops off 50 feet to the violent churn of river water below. "Fish on!" Was heard from the man who held the twelve foot rod, as the ancient eight foot Monster runs out with monofilament.

The Music Minded snake escapes in its own fluid fasion below their gaze and among their feet. Finding a Crack in the Crag, it disappeared with only the the child looking on, and the dust stirred to tell if it's quite passage.
Comment by David ofTomorrow on May 9, 2015 at 12:23am
How is Immortality? I seek the same!
Comment by Duncan MacLeod on May 9, 2015 at 12:08am

I agree with you. A positive song against PERPS and ...

Queen - Princes of the Universe

Comment by David ofTomorrow on May 9, 2015 at 12:06am
Welcome to the new members! And, thanks for sharing!
Comment by Dr Emmett Lathrop Brown on May 7, 2015 at 1:23pm

Comment by Dr Emmett Lathrop Brown on Saturday on TI ARTS COMMUNITY:

Song D.O.P.E. ft Twice: I'm a Machine (Like a robot)

«Great Scott!» CARMEN do not delete your song! Thank you!

  • May 6, 2015 delete!
Are you hiding? :-)
Carmen don't delete your song! «Great Scott!»
greetings Ms Carmen! :)
Comment by Dr Emmett Lathrop Brown on May 2, 2015 at 10:52am

Comment by Dr Emmett Lathrop Brown on May 2, 2015 at 10:48am

Comment by Targeted Lv on November 23, 2014 at 5:28pm


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