Stop the violence.
Be the peace.

Stop the violence.
Be with peace.

In the breathing
Rest in me.
In the breathing 
Rest with me.

Stop the violence.
Be the peace.

Stop the violence.
Ask me please.

Draw me pretty.
Draw me raw.

Stop the violence.
Be the peace.

Dress the girl.
Pretty girl walking.
Bleeding dress
Girl torn rough.

Stop the violence
Be with peace.


Denying events in our lives,
only hurts; the US;
me,
and you.

Abuse, illness, pain, hurt, fear, joy, and beauty.

I learned to hide.
To hide the all of it.

Does not mean I didn’t feel it.
Does not mean it didn’t happen.
Does not mean anything.

Except, what it is; hiding.

A shadow creature.
Whispering through words.
Shouting in the darkness through charcoal sands ruffling paper.

I wanted to campaign against violence.
I wanted to be the change I wished to see.
I wanted to be the peace.
I wanted
and I wanted.
I wanted so many things.

Stop the violence.
I wanted peace!
I hurt when others hurt.
I cried when others cried.
A piece of me dies,
each time someone dies.

No, I don’t understand.
You are correct, I don’t.
I am done with it
As I have said before.

I will be peace.
If I have to share every last story
hiding within my bones.
My marrow seeping.
My vessels spasm.

Humanity.
Humanity.
Has won.


love is raw, and pretty, and truthful. and Truth, will set you free


Own your story, for it is beautiful just the way it is. Because you are beautiful just the way you are. I say this because in my life, people, such as medical professionals, have attempted to shame me, and dismiss me simply because I had abuse in my past.  For came the physical, sexual, and psychological violence.  Then came medical violence.  What else do you call it?

PTSD, panic, and anxiety disorders; dissociation, fear; a recipe for vulnerability.  Yes, doctors took advantage of this.  I became a cash cow, not for me, but for psychiatric doctors.

Then, sadly, regular medical doctors never questioned the psychiatrist.  Dismissed with justifications about the abuse in my past.  This went on for years.  Finally, inadvertently, I was referred to a certain therapist.  He, in time, said, don’t count yourself out.  He called what happened, medical rape.

Call it what it is, I do not want one person to endure the ANY of THIS.
As I stated above; telling every last story within me until change happens.
Inviting everyone to join me.

We shall find peace as we draw ourselves into existence.

paint each day with love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower


Feature Image:
feeling of being, 30″ x 21″, ink, pigment, charcoal, graphite, paper, ©CKS 2010-13 sold

Posted by:Connie Karleta Sales

artist, poet, educator, public speaker and thriver! Smiles and unpaved roads are the way I roll :D