The Last Goodbye by ELyssa Durant, Ed.M.

I can no longer protect the one who hurt me the most, and I officially declare myself as independent and free.

Goodbye for now to The Powers That Beat, I am growing so tired ofthat nightmare where I cannot move my feet.

I am one today, but I am not alone; my DNA and birthright does not make me a clone.

Any genetic disorders, whatever they may be; will never again stand in the way for my fight to be free.

My bloodline alone comes right back to you, and your ridiculous denials are nothing new.

I must protect myself from your twisted mind, never forget, late last night, you left me behind.

You may think I have forgotten all your hysterical pleas, but I am legally required to remind you of these.

I hope you are ready for what lies ahead, because I do not think anyone else will agree this was all in my head.

You may dispose of my photos, writings, and more, I am sorry you do not realize you have officially now escalated funny money into a full-fledged war.

You declared this yourself, on March the Fourteenth, and I will expect it in writing before the next April 15th.

You no longer manipulate my ID or actions and blame; for I am not the one who falsely claims to be poor.

You may find it a little bit harder to blame it on crazy and point the finger at me; I am posting it here for the whole to see.

Do not blame my siblings or my father's new wife; material wealth should mean more value than your own child's life.

I got excluded from the human genome, stop feeding me crazy, just bring it back home.

The suicide note I once left in your possession, should no longer be guarded as your greatest protection.

I defy the heritage that left me broken inside; any tears I have shed will finally subside; I no longer will allow myself to be tried by the ridiculous facade that has given YOU a false sense of pride.

I am now on my own, as was always the case; it is so very sad you thought of this as a race.

I will honor your request to sever all ties; it is long overdue that I be free from your lies.

I never signed on to your game of deception, there was much more at stake than a strangers' perception.

So just as you once photographed my tattoo, sadly but surely, this one joke is on you.

I doubt you heard my very last words, but they were words of sincerity I hope that you'll review because my concern was genuine; just too familiar, we discussed nothing new.

I defy my heritage and reject your faith; I think I am worth more than an aborted mistake.

I declare my freedom and reject your "good faith" I am sorry you believe I was your biggest mistake.

You are so transparent it is easy to see, I hope you leave this behind the same way you left me.

My bloodline runs deeper than your maternal pride; I pray for your sake psychosis is real, for I see no other way your pain will ever be healed.

I am over and done with this stupid game, I gave you more than one warning to amend your tax claim.

So as I fight for my freedom, my health and my name, I hope your psychosis protects you from shame.

I must no longer allow trauma to guide me through life; I cannot worry about details as you become a new wife, you are correct in your assessment that you have earned all the "things" you cling to for dear life.

 

If there ever was a time to say, "This too shall pass...," then please go ahead and kiss my tattooed fat ass!

ELyssa Durant, Ed.M. © 2009-2013

Almost Famous?

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Take no prisoners, hold no hostages...

My dad used to sing this to me when I was a little girl... 

Two years ago, I had never even heard of the New World Order, Illuminati Elite. 

I lived a simple, silent, and honest life, yet still managed to pass as "normal" until I wast cast aside, shunned, humiliated and brutalized by friends, neighbors and police who knew nothing of the secret society simply referred to as "The Company"

Apparently, I have something they want-- dead or alive they don't just want my secrets or my silence, they want my genetic code.  

But in a perfect world-- i would find out that the reason my father has gone to extreme measures to distance himself from my life and my reality to keep me safe from the heavy hand of his corrupt colleagues in the world of the elite CIA and Illuminati.

I'm in deep.  Much deeper than I could possibly have seen until it became so obvious that I can't believe I even tried to write off recent events and "coincidences" as bad choices or random acts of violence and systemic corruption.

I am ready to take my place in the world.  I am ready to become the "man" I need to be so that I can protect my loved ones from being targeted as well.

I have always been  a vocal advocate for the weak and underprivileged, but I have never been more determined to watch the elite fall from grace as they have watched one of "their own" brought to their knees.

I speak not only for myself, I speak for a few other people who have had their lives completely and totally destroyed and torn apart by the wolves that simply don't see the full picture.

RB:  this one's for you...  you have nothing to fear, but I'm pretty sure you already know that. It is the rest of these sorry fuckers that needs to worry, because paybacks are a bitch.

My father once told a colleague that I may be the only person who is as smart or smarter than he is, and if that is true, I would do the same to my own children if I had them.

Thank you, daddy-- for making me stronger than I ever believed I could be...

COINTELPRO: Open Records, Under Fire.

SEVERE CONTENT WARNING: THIS CONTAINS WITNESS REPORTS AND DETAILED FIRST HAND ACCOUNTS OF THE WAR AGAINST BLACK AMERICA.  VIOLENCE, DEATH, AND GOVT ABUSE THAT IS UNSEALED.

The APPEAL (ref to previous post..... ) had given me for the thirteen months I actually believed somebody was listening. WRONG AGAIN! That false strength I kept in reserve to keep going was the part of me that needed to believe that I haven't lost everything. It gave a false sense that somebody was actually listening.

I WAS WRONG.... THE APPEAL WAS NEVER REVIEWED. AND NO ONE SEEMS TO GIVE A DAMN THAT THIRTEEN MONTHS HAVE PASSED, AND MY BENEFITS ARE MORE SCREWED UP THAN EVER!

So listen carefully, my friends. It was not too long ago that I had almost everything a young person needs to succeed in this world.

Or maybe not.

As for my most current insurance dispute... I feel that I have done everything humanly possible to be sympathetic towards health care provider who is NOT providing care. I cannot sacrifice my own well being for every bright eyed bushy tailed wanna be who is too stupid to see that I am far from.

I had such a battle this week. It culminated in the end like every other battle I have taken on. I only won because ultimately but we are all losing.

For every underqualified, health care provider who has NOT provided the adequate, there are many more like me. Alienated just enough to give up on fashion, etiquette and social norms; but not enough to walk away from it all.

We are keeping watch. We are taking names, and I for one do not give a rat's ass about "keeping the peace."

Having been on both sides if the proverbial couch, I have the perspective is both enlightening and scary at the same time.

I look back and want to say shout "told you so" from the nearest roof top.

Crazy is crazy does... out loud. I may be enjoying this just a little too much.

Sometimes I try to look at this fight, (I meant to say this life) objectively.

I can see my own future, and I can see where it is taking me. I know how it will end if I don't keep up the pace.

It is amazing at how far we will go to have nothing at all.

I have come this far, and on some level I almost enjoy the dance. No. On some level, I actually love the dance.

But then there are days like this.

Because without this turmoil, this exercise in futility, absurdity, government waste, bureaucracy, irreverent disregard for basic human kindness, decency and humanity-- and all long to go to the kind of place I hear about from @Dreamon51.

He speaks of a place called Neverland.  You see, I don't know the story of Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and I have no idea who Wendy is. Of course I've heard of Tink (though I hear she is a pain in the ass ;) but only because I like glitter pens and fairy dust. I don't know these things, because I don't know the innocence, the purity, the make believe world of childhood. I never had one.

I knew cruelty... and though I am not cruel, this is who I am at this very moment: Dark, discouraged, and deeply disappointed.

What if this is all that there is for me? What if I can never break free from this cycle of insanity? 

The insanity that surrounds me... I do know the difference,  and the insanity I speak of is NOT in my head. We have all heard the expression insanity is the sane response to insane surroundings; let me assure that there are very few case studies that rival mine.

I am the stuff psychologists, sociologists, and the occult speak of behind closed doors. My sister and I were raised this way. She went one way, I went the other. She may be a lawyer, she may have good credit, she may have a lot of things, but she paid dearly as well. And she hates me for it. 

While my father took me to see the same shrink that treated Danton, Milken, Shore, Shapiro, and more; he took her to see a psychiatrist who specialized in serial killers.

So I wonder, and you should too... did he take us there to be healed or did he take us there to create our futures? I will never be good enough for him. Thank god jesus allah and the power invested in this little stupid fucking brain of mine!  His vision of us, his vision of U.S. is wrong.

I know this now. I didn't know then. I have proof now. Of course now that I hardly need it.

It is all out in the open and I am glad. Never again should the FBI create hatred, fear, ficticious wars and children like me.

Men so indoctrinated through programs like COINTELLPRO and by power that they have such little regard for human life that they treat their children the same way they treated John Africa and the thirteen members of MOVE the day the Powers That Beat decided it was long overdue to take John Africa out. So what if thirteen people died with him... who cares about the 5 children who died alog with him?

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don't need no water let the mother fucker burn,  Burn, mother fucker, burn. 

And they did.  And they died. May 13, 1985.

Burned forever in my mind, and it should be in yours too. OUR COUNTRY. OUR PEOPLE. OUR GOVERNMENT.

FUCK YOU AMERICA! FUCK THE US FOR FUCKING US ALL!  And thank you daddy, for letting mw in on the secret.  Now what? 

What else would call if not the City of Brotherly Love?

I do. Because my daddy told me to shoot them ya know... just in case. Daddy lost his first and only trial and the CITY of Philadelphia decided it was time to take him out.

No. I won't give up now. I could be next! (As I laugh my fucking ass off!!!!!)

What if I have nothing left? What if the Hook does NOT bring me back?

This demonstration and project in futility and determination has defined me for so long, that without it, I'm not sure if I am anything at all.

fuck that... yeah... Reality Bytes. But I won't play dead, and I won't pretend my name is not Elyssa Danielle Durant. My Daddy changed his, my gold-digging bitch of a mother changed her name 5 times, now with $250K invested in it, her face and her body are quite lovely too.

Mumia is STILL on death row. The 39th District is corrupt to the core. The MAYOR dropped the bomb. May 13, 1985. No longer sealed, and I am no longer hiding, Now I know, why my life stopped when it was about to start. I know the truth, and the feds know I'm certifiable. So you decide...

~~~~~this where I must break~~~ all in due time my friends~~~~

I can't lose what I never had. I won’t be another sell-out... mostly because I don't know how.

I am then the voice of perseverance. I am one voice of perseverance. I am one of 47 million Americans. And today I am I am still fighting the good fight.

This battle; this challenge; this half won war this fight has come to define me. And without that, I am not really much of anything at all...

As someone once told me, if you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything. I've already fallen, but I sure as shit stand for something.

"...so for now, I write. Maybe later read.  I am always listening. But if there is any justice left in this world, maybe someday, I might actually live."

That's a;; for now, folks. I think I'll tweet a bit.  I think I've earned it the right to play a little.  Can't go anywhere anyway.  License suspended (thanks again dad! You can manage to moved 1.3 million dollars into two separate trusts within one hour of TRO, but you it takes 22 days to hand over the $4.50 I needed to avoid eviction and 6 months homelessness?)  

You must be so proud. I'm finally doing you ordered me to do long ago. Fighting for myself, because you made it clear you will never do it for me.  Lesson learned. Bring it on. Again.  This time I know what to expect.

[Parts previously posted at United Professionals under: An Appalling Appeal]

Who Do You Trust?

No money to refile my app with Metro Public Schools. I don't have the application fees or the fee Metro charges all applicants to pay to process the application fees; the fees for fingerprinting, the FBI background check, or to update my transcripts with the certification office.


Since my Masters degree is an education, I am not qualified to do anything more than substitute at $10,46/hour. No benefits. No security.


The application fee is non-negotiable.
Once dedicated toward empowering youth through education, I was also drawn toward misunderstood children and adolescents when I went to work as a therapist, and crisis counselor in what my job with Department of Children's Services [DCS.]

I have a knack for connecting with the lost: I speak their language.


[SORRY DRAFT COPY-- MUST GET TO THE court house! ]



Voter Apathy: January 7, 2008, p. 2
[Available in full: http://www.nashvillecitypaper.com/

Bye-Bye Spotty (content warning)

Here we go again... i wish people would cared as much about their children as I do about my Spotty. So I guess this is goodbye again. I'm not stupid, and I know that I can't blame my mom for this one since I'll be the one to drive her to the shelter tomorrow.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I really hate this world.

No one gives a shit about the kids who are already here living in poverty, foster homes, on the streets, or anyway the can to survive. So who gives a shit about a few people who at least have the luxury of a quick painless death rather than having it drained out of them day by day; tear by tear, year after year after year after year.

I don't want to get rid of Spotty. I don't want her euthanized when I feel her little head nuzzled against my neck. She is not sick, she is not, her only crime is belonging to me. What the fuck with thois wprld. we can through puppies into plastic bags and freeze them to death because it is "easier" than "putting them to sleep."

So yeah, there you have it. I fucked up again. How ironic that the one thing I don't have is the only ting people seem to want from me. I can't wait to hear about this one. I am 36 years old. I am not a child I am not a criminal I am not cruel.

Why must they take the one thing I love-- the one thing that loves me. Does it make it all better for everybody else? dad, I learned my lesson. I have accepted the hand I have been dealt.

If I say I'm sorry, would that make it okay for me to keep Spotty? Will someone please tell me what I need to say because I'm not sure what I did.

I'm old enough to know that nobody's coming to save me. I don't even biother to ask but why must an innocent animal who did nmot ask for this be the ultimat6e ounishment for a sin I don't remeber conmmitting.


So where does Spotty go? To the farm with Abby & Ollie during divorce number two and custody battle number 4? WIll my father mail me some fake ashes out of the fire place. Will my mommy drive her out to Suffolk County so she can use an assumed name like "Harrison" so I can't locate her? At least I found Pepe. I can only hope that one day I'll find Spotty.

Special message to two "special" people: KBDWK: I hope some takes Ziggy from you. Dad? Well, whatever. I can't think of anything care enough about to lose-- so enjoy. You win. Isurrender. Whatever. I guess you'll tell what I'm supposed to do because that worked so well with my last Landlord.

Why can't live a life without empathy. I guess if you don't love anything but yourself, you will never know grief.

Well now I'm really fucked, because I'm not all fond of myself these days. Don't worry, you don't need to call parents, they already know, and they couldn't care less. In fact they'll probably bill you for wasting there time. Besides, unless you went Harvard, Yale or Princeton they give a shit what you think. So join the the club.

Goodnight for now. I'm going for a drive to see if I can find a shelter for poor little Spotty.

Just remeber this: Spotty didn't chose me. I chose her. So here we we go again... apparently there is not a single person I know who is is willing to save Spotty. Actually that sounds about right. I know exactly how she feels.


~Previous Post Remembering Pepe~

I am standing in a sea of unfamiliar faces. There is violence everywhere. Red. Broken. Bleeding.

I am holding Pepe, and he is broken. Bleeding. Clinging to me, clinging to life. I rush through the crowd looking for safety. There is no way out. Just angry faces in a sea of violence.

In the distance, I see two police officers. I run to them believing they will help me find a way out of the madness. Believing they will bring me to safety. A safe haven. Shelter from the storm. Free from the madness. Free from the violence. Free from this sea of unfamiliar faces so I can get my bleeding, broken, suffering friend the help he needs to make him well. The help we need to be whole again.

When I reach the podium, the men were facing the crowd. They were standing there, backs to me; they just stood there to face to the crowd banging their black, wooden nightsticks while on just standing there Beating their nightsticks against their palms. I call out but no one listens. No one can hear me above the roar of the crowd. So I tap them on the shoulder, holding Pepe close to my heart— hoping they will instinctively see the love and fear in his yellow gold eyes. Of course, they would rescue us. Yes, they would rescue us and bring us to safety. Free from the violence, free from the madness. Free from this hell and take us somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from here. And then they turn. In unison, they turn around to face me, and I look at them. I am horrified. I am horrified because these are not police officers at all. They are clowns. Literally, figuratively, in every way they are simply clowns. Clowns in uniform. In unison. In unanimity. Inhumanity. My worst nightmare. The cops were clowns.

Pepe was “only” a cat, but I made him a promise that I intended to keep. I would give him everything I longed for: keep him safe, keep him fed, make him well, I would give him love. Lots and lots of love. Unconditional love. Always. Until the day my perfect little angel would return to heaven. And I did. And he did. And we did. Alone, together, Pepe gave me strength when I was too weak to care for myself. He could not talk, but he sure tried!

After seventeen years, Pepe died the other day, and my worst nightmare did not come true. I loved him until the very end. Even then he gave me the most perfect and fitting gift. He gave me freedom. He gave me comfort. He gave me hope and he gave me peace.

I know that I can love. I am capable of complete, total, unconditional love. He was like a child. Pure, innocent and completely, totally, unconditionally loved. Yes, I am capable of love. I am capable of complete, total, and unconditional love. Pepe, my precious angel, may you rest in peace… There is a better place for you now. There always was.

Blink! Ground Zero

Evolution or e-volution?

Shortly after the World Trade Center 9/11 disaster in New York City, I found myself reflecting on friendships and people I have lost along the way.

I turned inside myself and began journaling on a daily basis to help myself overcome the horror and isolation that comes with such an event— Friends I had gone to school with; productive members of the community... people who had accomplished so many things I had yet to do myself. So different from the I was living at the time.

The feelings were overwhelming and went far beyond fear, solitude, and I began to question my purpose in this life. Had I been just a few miles closer, heading west that day instead of east , I would have driven right into Ground Zero.

Friends circulated e-mails about form,er classmates that were presumed dead. They had families: pregnant wives, children, and all of the things that I believed I would have by the time I reached my 30’s.

I quickly realized how many of my peers had achieved at least some of the goals they set out to accomplish years earlier— and I felt pangs of guilt and sadness seeing how much they were loved, how fondly they were remembered, and how many of them were on their way to achieving great things.


By that time, I was nearing my thirtieth birthday and the list of goals I set for myself seemed hopelessly beyond my reach. Not just beyond my grasp— the future seemed ominous, scary, and it took everything I had to keep myself alive. In the months after the attack, I became increasingly aware of just how disconnected I was from my past.

Before FaceBook, there was classmates.com…. One day I got one of those e-mails that makes you feel as though someone from my past was trying to contact me. I thought long and hard before I responded.

I had a mix of emotions.

I had done everything I possibly could to quietly erase any ties or connections I had to the past. Filling out the online registration for FaceBook; responding to my 20th reunion invitations; afraid to be exposed for being poor.... but then it came tome.... I am not poor, I am merely a rich person without any money.

Because I had never lived with one parent, one house, or one school any longer than a year or two at best, it was not that hard to fade away into a distant memory. I wanted to be forgotten.

The last few weeks of my life have been anything short of living moment to moment... confronted with all the crises I wanted so badly to leave behind.... yet those experiences; my fight or flight instinct carried me through.

Thank you to all who tweeted and chatted... I made it through the storm, and I am glad to know you were there with me.

I am glad to be alive today, and I look forward to attending at least one of the three possible reunions. I hope you are glad to have me.

Cheers to you all, can't wait to see y'all at the Freak Parade!

-edd

Independence Day: March 15, 2009

"It seems painfully obvious to me now that the only way out was through…


If had known then what I know now, I would not have wasted so much precious time searching for the source of my profound sadness.

I must no longer allow myself to be drawn into this circle of madness.

I will write more later I can dig up enough money for a cell phone that answers.

DRAFT/edd copyLEFT 2009

You may dispose of my photos, writings and more, I am sorry you don't realize you have officially now
escalated funny money into an unfortunate civil war!

I can no longer protect the one who hurt me the most, and I officially declare myself as
independent and free. Goodbye for now to The Powers That Beat, I am tired of that nightmare where I can't move my feet.

I am one today, but I am not alone; my DNA and birthright does not make me a clone.

Any genetic disorders, whatever they may be; will never again stand in the way for my fight to be free.

My bloodline alone comes right back to you, and your ridiculous denials are nothing new.

I must protect myself from your twisted mind, never forget, late last night, you left ME behind.

You may think I've forgotten all your hysterical pleas, but I am legally required to remind you of
these.

I hope your are ready for what lies ahead, because I don't think anyone else will agree this was all
in my head.

You declared this yourself, on March the fourteenth, one month to the day, and I will expect it in writing before the next April 15th.

You no longer manipulate my ID or actions and blame; for I am not the one who falsely claims
to be poor. You may find it a little bit harder to blame it on crazy and point the finger at me, I'm posting it here for the whole to see.

Do not blame my siblings, or my father's new wife; your priority should be focused on your own fucked up life.

I hate to think that you must pay to board poor dear, Ziggy; and if it disturbs you that much I life material greed should not be of more value than your own child's life.

I got excluded from
the human genome, stop feeding me crazy, just bring it back home.

The suicide note I
once left in your possession, should no longer be guarded as your greatest
protection.

I defy the heritage
that left me broken inside, any tears I have shed will at long last
subside.

I no longer will allow myself to be tried by the ridiculous facade that has given YOU a false sense of pride.

I'm now on my own, as was always the case; it is so very sad you thought of this as a race.

I will honor your request to sever ALL ties; it is long overdue that I be set free from your lies.

I never signed on to your game of deception; me thinks much more was at stake than some a strangers
perception.

When I think of the time photographed my bare naked tatoo; sadly but surely this last joke is on you.

In case you forgot my last words to you, they were words of sincerity I hope you'll review.

My concern for my sister is so very genuine, but your emergency calls are just all too familiar, I may just camp out in Vegas, to watch over you. Surely my "fans" know we discussed nothing new.

I defy my heritage and claim my last stake, At least one with Faith believes I was never intended to be an aborted mistake.

I declare my freedom and accept your last dare, because if this hell, I'll be seeing you there.

I am sorry you believe I was your biggest mistake, but for the love of my sisters, I must throw up a flair... No child deserves to be barely there.

You are so transparent, it is easy to see, I hope you leave this behind you, the same way you left me.

My bloodline runs deeper than your foolish pride, I will pray for you today, that you take this in stride.

I do hope to all hope your psychosis is real, for until you address it you will never be healed.

I am over and done with this stupid game, I gave you more than one warning to ammend your tax claim.

So as I fight for my freedom, my health and my name, I hope your Glaucoma blind eye will protect you and keep you free from the shame.

I must no longer allow trauma to guide me through life; I can not worry about makeup and urgent details and lies, WHY WON'T YOU ALLOW ME TO IND YOUR DISCARDED trash, you donated Pepe, I adopted him twice, if you only knew how many people thought twice...

I can't be concerned with your refunded fair, if you won't let me use it, I'll find some other way there.

I'm sure you will make a very beautiful wife, for as much as you paid, you sure dumped it on me.... I won't have that surgery since you now look just like me.

You are correct in your assessment that you have earned all you have, had you paid just four bucks, ii wouldn't have cared!

If there ever was a time to say, "this too shall pass...," then please go ahead and kiss my Size 8 tatooed ass!

It is time for me to focus on answers...

The events leading me into this circle of despair must no longer guide me through life.

If I am to escape the vivid memories of past.

Now, it is time to live free or die, I hope for one day that my focus can last.

I have spent too many years asking, “Now how did I wind up here?”
Today I am asking for hope, “To live free from fear.”

Elyssa Durant Nashville, TN, March 15, 2009

DRAFT: copyLEFT 2009

Elyssa Durant, Nashville, TN

Blink for me... take a STAND for children, March forth, and Write On...