“Language is power…Language can be used as a means of changing reality.”

Adrienne Rich, American Poet and Activist

Sight Cannot Conceive
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

No right to see the limbs that free
Perhaps it's skewed but arms are viewed

Whilst' wings mount low
They starve to breeze
Inhale the air
And then take flight

The earth is such a swollen place
Upon it lies the enemies

Not friend nor foe

....One no one knows....

My death would birth no grievance

Others come
Like wind they flee
Strangers fly through their life's sky

Whilst' I remain on callused feet

Though withered, the device of flight
Once fought to lead this tortured soul

"Forget the pain that stays your leave"

The others laughed at labeled me

All that one could ever know
Is what their frequency has shown

Memory is but one name
Survive each day
It stays the same

Absent shame
No thoughts remain
A vacant life
Leaves not a stain

Brain absorbed no partial plea
From fate the mind did long secede

Perhaps if words were never heard
Or human's kindness forced them mute

Feathers grew but oil was thrown
The dirty pair now hide alone

An appendage never to be mourned

I dare not dream to fly this eve
In morn I'll see no higher light
Lay grounded against destiny
Human sworn to bear no rights

  • The artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous

Since Forever Became A 4-Letter Word
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

Her name survives as a cruel joke
Whispered only within intimate circles
As a ghost story told to scare children
And ensure that they will never disobey

Autumn lasts for all 12 months
And the forbidden berries that grew from the happy tree
Fell like once colored leaves upon the ground
Existing now
In only shades of brown

The heart aches to feel the emotion of fear
Since its pain became a reality

Days are lived as one never-ending night
As the sun no longer shines light the skies

And fate’s evil twin laughs at what she has become

Since forever became a four letter word

  • The artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous

History’s No Mystery
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

A heart that’s real can’t be disguised
Non-fiction cannot be revised

An angel does not mind red paint
Lies could never stain a saint

True beauty’s an immortal soul
Cut her in half and she’s still whole

Perhaps the view they’ve set aside
Can train their eyes to view light blind

No one can mask a truth that’s true
Where good exists
Good’s still the view.

  • The artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous

Mother’s Day Musings
Poem by Trevor David Hitchin

shall I sit like a yogi?
perhaps a bear in the woods,
pain legged and broken
ready to give up the goods

the story is ancient
but golden like Tut,
over one half a century
a life in a rut

to every season we turn
every day the heart beats,
there is pressure on Earth
for he who competes

but what is the trophy?
what is the prize?
I think and I think
I try to surmise

is it cash and plenty
in the 401k?
or is it just finding peace
for one hour today?

I’ll sit like that yogi
alone with the trees,
asking my third eye
to share what it sees.

namaste.

  • Mother’s Day Musings is a poem that the artist wrote originally in reply to another poet. The artist grew up listening to rap music with a penchant for the esoteric and mystical. The artist describes a life similar to the life of Siddartha in ways that are difficult to articulate. Inspired by the Sawtooth Mountains in Sun Valley, Idaho where the artist resides, this poem was an attempt to find peace in the dying cycle; it was an attempt to make sense of all that the artist and the artist’s family have been through, as well as the artist’s targeted suffering as an individual. The artist sits like a Boddhisatva to find any hope of peace in the artist’s body and mind, enduring agony and contemplating if there is any value to the suffering.

    The parents of this artist were sent this poem by the artist on Mother’s Day 2023, and they both enjoyed it.

  • Trevor David Hitchin who has been called many names is a survivor of horrific MK Ultra torture and LAPD/UCLA Police Brutality of the Rodney King era, which was 1991 in Los Angeles. Trevor has a passion for nature but believes himself to be losing his 50+ year fight. He tries to find outlets for the silent musings in his heart, which he believes is a gift both given and received. Trevor has a burning desire to share his life experiences while he still can.

    Trevor holds an MBA from Pepperdine University and lives in Sun Valley, Idaho.

White Lily
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

“She is truly stunning. I’m sure that you agree?”

All dressed in white lilies
She stands taller than most but shorter than others

Her eyes search frantically for closure within the torturous nights
In which they are forced to remain active

Loneliness is the emotion that defines her
More so because she is never left alone

Memories surround her bed each night
Demons that linger within the spaces of her room
Too dark for their presence to be viewable
Yet close enough in proximity for their voices to be heard

They scream from nightfall through until sunrise
Words that force her to recall the kind of terrors that nightmares can only dream of

”Spectacular, she’s lucky to be so lovely.”

The fall seemed to fly by this year, or was it last?
Perhaps it was winter once?
The details blur

They’ve been washed over and over again
By the hands of a clock
A timepiece programmed to tick and to tock forever

The ideal of suffocation is like a breath of fresh air this evening

”Sensational and graceful, she is such a beautiful lady.”

Beauty, however
Only lies within the eyes of the beholder

  • This artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous.

My Own Worst Demons
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

Ghosts illuminate like fire on a candle’s wick
Each possesses their own name
And personality by now

Reminders of the pain lived through
Becoming more opaque with time passed

And I am more scared now

I am so used to them
They have lingered in my life longer than any of flesh
Entertaining with words that constantly inspire pain

And they’re here again

I feel their hands upon me
As they grip the confident shell
I have encased myself in

They peel it off piece by piece
Find a naked piece of skin
And inject into it more of their serum

The juice to which I am now addicted
As if I require the shots

I allow them in
Open myself to their thoughts

A mental suicide

But ghost cannot disappear

They are the only ones that have stayed

  • This artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous.

Disposable Girl
Poem by an anonymous Targeted Individual

In retrospect, life is a series of empty relationships
A trashcan full of memories
I can’t seem to take to the dump
Laughter, smiles, drama, pain
Balled up in an ever growing mass

In dreams my past haunts me
I am forced to relive the beauty of experiences
That I am the only one that holds on to

Lives continue on without me
I don’t reside in memories
Or within trashcans

I’ve been burned with worn out clothing years ago
Scorched for sins I don’t understand
As few have cared enough to explain

In life I have missed many a goal
Yet somehow obtained others I never desired to reach

I am unnecessary, unneeded and unloved by many I’ve held dear

There is nothing emptier than a full trashcan

  • This artist has chosen to let the art speak for itself.

  • This artist has chosen to remain anonymous.

Prayer for Dismissal
Prayer by Cassandra Freier

From these charges, I need a break.
I believe my case was a true mistake.
No more of my life should this case take.
My precious future is at stake.

If my jailing was a victory,
I believe it is a major story
for my life and for history.
As for my lack of cooperation, I am sorry.

I am the one who laid in a cell.
Hours to days to months I felt unwell.
I don’t know if I’m on a path to hell.
It seems like it; in life, I fell.

Hours to days to months I wished to be free
or to discuss the possibility of trial by jury.
I laid alone with unanswered questions, waiting to see
if the next freed from the jail could be me.

I have been in custody week after week,
waiting for the Judge with whom to speak.
Hopefully my prayers and wishes don’t sound meek
for it is my freedom which I seek.

I pray that my case be dismissed,
that my name be on the top of the District Attorney’s dismiss list.
I hold near to my heart my hand in a fist.
At least [x amount] times I have prayed, hoped, and wished.

  • Prayer for Dismissal was a prayer that the artist wrote while incarcerated. The prayer was written for the accused to recite to request a dismissal of their case. The prayer includes a count, so that the accused may keep track of how many times they prayed. The artist prayed 75 times originally.

  • Cassandra Freier has been an artist nearly all of her life. Previously, she has created representational illustrations as well as conceptual works.

    Cassandra Freier believes that she has been a Targeted Individual since birth, but the electronic torture began for her at first by extreme paranoia in the beginning of 2014 to complete loss of control of her mind and body on the day after her 27th birthday in 2014.

Free
Poem by Cassandra Freier

As I begin to speak the word that describes
what I want to be most of all
my teeth press against my lower lip
to the point where I experience a brief moment of pain
and maybe draw blood

I press my teeth down on my lower lip firmly
allowing for that pain to represent every struggle and loss
I have ever faced

let the pain on my lip represents the initial moment of pure horror
when an electromagnetic frequency
resounded like a nightmarish echo within my skull
alerting to me that I did not have privacy or safety
within my very own mind

let the pain on my lip represent my eroded sense of reality
which I had previously used to form the foundation
for adaptation and survival

let the pain on my lip represent the cut to my wrist that I made
hoping to end the electronic torture, as well as my life
and that spiraled into numerous other internal injuries
to crucial nerves, lymphatic systems, membranes, my brain’s
parietal lobe and cerebellum, my intestines,
and possibly my unborn children

let the pain on my lip represent my destroyed career
and sabotaged reputation,
any hope at all of contributing to society
in a meaningful way

let the pain on my lip represent the gaslighting and torture
through psychiatry’s anti-psychotic medication prescriptions
that debilitate the functioning of my nerves and brain
and that, once they are ingested into the body, are impossible to escape

let the pain on my lip represent my damaged status as.a US Citizen
for the targeting’s relentless effort of identifying me as a domestic terrorist
and wielding the US Justice System against me
to incarcerate me and deprive me of the due process
I am supposed to have by birth through the U.S. Constitution’s Sixth Amendment

let the pain on my lip represent my divided family
who were mind-controlled to prioritize and prefer
statements made about me by corrupt authorities
instead of comforting me through my torture

Now I think of all Targeted Individuals like me who
have experienced something similar

let the pain on my lip represent their suffering and loss
of their minds and their lives

I let the scraping of my teeth against my lower lip
represent my and all Targeted Individuals’ suffering
as I gather the strength to endure these devastating hardships
and dedicate every quantum unit of my existence
to work toward and for now, just to express,
that I want to one day be
the very meaning of this word: Free.

  • Free is a poem that attempts to take back a word that is associated with the artist’s name. Throughout the torment this artist receives is a theme that she does not fully represent the meaning of her name, as her consciousness has been electromagnetically enslaved to the targeting program. This poem reorients the meaning of the word free and focuses on the pronunciation of the word free to emphasize the struggle one faces on their way to liberation.

  • Cassandra Freier has been an artist nearly all of her life. Previously, she has created representational illustrations as well as conceptual works.

    Cassandra Freier believes that she has been a Targeted Individual since birth, but the electronic torture began for her at first by extreme paranoia in the beginning of 2014 to complete loss of control of her mind and body on the day after her 27th birthday in 2014.