Coming this Summer!


Lori Jean Finnila Streaming

Monday, April 30, 2018

'Is Your Magic Strong Enough' #MayaAngelou #lorijean #mystory

'Is your magic strong enough to cross this water.'

My baby's skull crushed, my body crushed for pleasure, my skills defamined, my money stolen...

' Is your magic strong enough to cross this water.'

'Statement' Courtesy Maya Angelou.

Photo Courtesy ''

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Addition to Yesterday's Social Post on song "My Dew" #lorijean #sexual assault #music #rock #release #my story

Watch for song “My Dew” about sexual assault coming out next. The word 'dew' is metaphorically used as women's secretions prompted from improper medical examinations, where secretions are automatically formed in the female's body as a form of protection, taking back control. Lori Jean was set up by an EMT that she was rooming with to the doctor in her case him telling her of this after coming home from it, and just escaping being trafficked after being drugged in the home, the ambulance stood outside while she crawled to put the latch up on the opened back door after being threatened to abduction by the EMT. She was also somehow being prior drugged and had a man climb in bed with her.

              Photo courtesy "Impact Ethics."

Lyrics for "My Dew"

My Dew

That's my dew... I make it all alone not you
I make it mine

You think you come on strong You think you can take me down Well I'm not looking

...That's my dew I make it all alone not you
I make it mine

To think your pant Will take me down When I don't look

That's my dew
I make it all alone not you
I make it mine

Though it didn't matter
when you mixed me with your batter all you were concerned to was to put me inside of you

You think you come on strong You think you can take me down Well I'm not looking

You were wrong I was fine
from your stupid acts though I made it through

Afterall, it was a farce outside of me that led you to me

Move along sing your song I'm not mad
Not even sad
wait for

That's my dew
I make it all alone not you
I make it mine.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Good Day Today #IFeelPretty #heels #lorijean

Got my optic fresh, saw my movie, I Feel Pretty-we all are,-so true, walked in my shoes-higher heels than usual. Good day today!

Photo courtesy WowAmazing.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Where is Kyra? #movie #homeless #lorijean #socoldoutsidecdproject

Where is Kyra? #movie

I can certainly understand her desperacy. When I finally got my SSDI check when I had been boundless from injuries I was so relieved at that moment, though I knew the huge challenge of the situation at hand why I was in this situation had to be addressed. Prior to the situation I had faced all kinds of challenges with work and living accomodations due to bad relations and the control the men felt they had over me. I had tried to climb the ladder financially to be able to thrive many times and found myself boundless to their actions. Finally reaching the top of the ladder toward financial success I was taken down to injuries by them which led me to SSDI.
Being felt homeless and out of control to the situation with no money and no real solution that is yours is desperacy inside of you at its worst. Seeing the paper of the check that came in the mail in the movie that Kyra initially received, though it wasn't Kyra's, rang with me. Interesting story line.

                     Photo courtesy Getty.

So Cold Outside CD Project

Friday, April 13, 2018

35 Reports to the Police #nevergothelp #lorijean #stalker

About 35 times I went to the police. I went before I was drugged in Nashua, N.H. I had made reports beforehand to the disruptions in my room I was renting to no avail. I was demeaned and made into a performance of some sort of the report/reports. Once drugged, I was told by detectives to go to bars and not leave the city as though I were a criminal, I know the second to demean me more. Not sure if these were friends of the culprit. Obviously I eventually left the city, but not before I was supposed to seemingly being coerced at that time in the office of the detectives into saying that a 'Mike' will take over, looking in my eyes for acceptance to this as though my word was the full lease to their actions.
The next over twenty years was, not known to me at the earliest time, a 'Mike' that pushed me into sex
through the eventual break down of my body being drugged. He stalked me and beat me when he could break into my apartment. I was a girl alone in New York City thriving on my own to someone or someone's dissatisfaction. I had routine surgery and a group of three men who apparently found me attractive came in and foul played with the anesthesia box which left me vulnerable from the onset of the physical complications. I was threatened to be arrested in New York City when I tried to report the
complications and tampering I felt took place in the hospital.
I watch documented movies of other countries with high rapes reported, we have very high rapes as well in the states with no reports filed. I fought so hard to get my reports filed before they happened but only got advised reported and was told I would only get this. My druggings grew worse everywhere I went in my foods and in my dwellings, and at times those who would be around me. Being a woman here in the states is just as bad as any other country apparently if it's felt that there is access.

Thank you to Malta Today for the image.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

God Is Strength #lorijean #God #story

God Is Strength by Lori Jean Finnila

I feel the weight of you pulling away. My chain, my responsibility to you, that I owe you, or have to be there. I know something bad will happen, but that is what I have to do.
I'm drowning in your life. Your ways, your wishes. Your stories, or mine, that sometimes seem so clear and other times don't make sense. The kids that were treated so well, yours were not meant to be so worried about. The cloud of aura had to stand well with you, or else, I assume in my mind.
The tall tree that I couldn't climb that I was blamed for left scars on my neck from the raw tree when I was asked to climb, or ordered rather. Made no sense for its size of its importance to such a small child. There weren't many limbs to hold me up. All I can see now is a mouth yelling and moving in somewhat of slow motion to the order. My ears can't believe as I look up so high to the oak. I was good at climbing. I was good at everything.
The orders not to go to gymnastics after school was a thought of love after all. It had to be to my protection knowing the burdens of parents. I was one to be good at basketball, softball, tumbling, and dance. I was graceful. Sought out to it. Could do back flips on the uneven bars. That's why I was asked to stay after school. I could hold myself up the longest on the high bars to my weight. I thought there was something wrong to this. I passed the fastest girl at school on race days and thought to slow down and let her pass telling her it was wrong of me.
I ended up ignoring the negative and focusing on the positive of me in the mirror, the beautiful things I felt inside. I never heard the bad.
My hair being stroked to TV had to mean love. My clean clothes and food must have been. Yet I can't figure out the standing on the stairs with a door closed to me barely walking at youth with the lights turned out on me and told to stand to reach it in the dark at the top of the stairs.
I can handle the pass on to grandma for money from the government for somehow I was loud or brash, not being coherent to this.
I always tried to please and smile at school. Was so loved when the teacher would look my way. I knew this. Sometimes a teacher I wouldn't feel this as much. But there would be neighbors and friends. Boyfriends at times that would give me the same love. Sometimes not as much and it seemed like a push. These times were confusing and I think hard on the younger ones.
I want to believe that I'm not crazy for feeling my head shoved under the headboard of my bed. The constant bandages to my neck that left lifelong scars that I can hardly see now. My bent and molded ears from torment, that sometime I'm told are ugly.
The times I cried not to take medicine that made me sick when I wasn't. The shelves that were stocked from the store made me drowsy at school. Teachers would question my fears at times. The spoon shoved into my mouth when half asleep telling me “you don't need this” to make sure I knew. It had to be for a reason. She must have been so scared for me. It was a plan, a charade to keep me safe.

Page two

There must have been such bad men that this charade had to be played out. Just as the yummy-orange
baby aspiring that I enjoyed too well, it had to be played out to the whole bottle, which I couldn't
muster up to, I only took half. The dancing horses in the stairs as I swayed didn't seem to tell the doctor
it wasn't me that decided to this.
The broken eardrum from a supposed pencil that I could never fit in came in to play. It's a wonder with
all the other things.
My stomach growls yet sometimes gets sick from too much oil from the same tuna fish sandwich everyday for years. I can't get my eyes to look at it and my brain to accept it. The oils are getting harder to digest in all the other foods. Fortunately I'm omitted from many of them at the table. My doctor prescribes this.
My hands are so small but my attitude catches up. I fight for no spankings yet I still have to hide under
the bed. Brown liquid is poured on my little legs to cover them up. My ears are jerked, yet they are ugly
I'm told, while lice is cut from my hair. My fault I assume. The cut is much shorter than needed I'm told
from others. I'm in a military camp I figure.
I hide in the flowers that talk to me. The huge butterfly is my friend. I can catch the flies and trap them
to stay there as long as I want to stay with me. I have to see them in the morning. I have control over
my love. Yet it dies so I can't understand. I will save the forest from the wild animals yet they all die.
The universe speaks to me when I walk through it. I'm special. I'll go to the tree house. I'm smart now.
My home will await in there, yet if she stops me it can't be good. It doesn't make sense. Maybe she knows how smart I am. I can wait till I'm 18.
I know the love she pushes on me won't give me what I need. Yet I can't fight. I know her strength.
I'm told to hold tight to the pillow if I want to survive. I choose to do this that I'm a strong child.
I remember playing peek a boo under the sheets on the chairs made on the floor feeling safe and
special. Other children would come and I wouldn't feel this so much. I felt the pang of pane from the abnormality of this.
I would continue with security from the adult that entered the room. A small child would cry and I would have to watch at times. There were no other adults around but this one. I wondered to this. Was I in charge?
Dogs would die but I felt it was wrong. I felt it couldn't be there fault. They weren't the ones in charge.
Perhaps they got angry but maybe they needed to. They seemed quiet enough.
It's laugh time again. All the best foods are around and there are parties. It's great. Life is good. I must have misunderstood.
Oh gosh, it begins again. My questions, mostly at night, or when I'm alone with only one other about.
My hair seemed golden and wheat, yet it seems to darken at times with my appointed shampoo. I can't take long showers or eat food as others, I must be different.
I'm asked if I'm from the mailman. We joke Santa Claus must be. I feel special and different than those

Page three

around me so close, but why. Has a special angel been sent to me to protect me?
The clothes hung on my chord by the socket makes a great closet for my metal baby hangers mom tells me. I know this as I'm forced to question this from others.
Go play in the closet my favorite place I'm told with the door closed. Continue to enjoy under the cellar stairs and tie myself up this time. I'm getting bigger, I should understand enjoyment. It must be right there are many around.
I was chosen. It has to be safe. The looks don't look drastic to others in here.
I'm a spectacle when eating at others homes. I'm starving.
My arms are so thin a woman cries on Memorial Day. It's my favorite suit. I don't understand.
I'm taught to eat egg sandwiches before I go to bed.
Half a glass of orange juice once a week and sometimes two pieces of fruit is good for me. A treat of 1 to two ice creams is an added plus. I try to harvest on the bigger meals not realizing in fear to not catch my trace at times when it's not there. I can go up and down in weight drastically.
I'm told to wear diapers at eight but I don't need them. I only pee at night when I dream I am. I look into her eyes and ask do I act like a baby? Is this what she wants?
Others are getting tired of these games. I ignore it all. It can't be so bad. I'm growing up. I'm tired of the changes in clubs and houses of worship outside of church. They all start to ask questions. Am I still that thin?
I babysit and wear different clothes. I'm told what size to buy. They seem so smart on me. Grownups don't come over as much. The world seems to come in towards me a lot now. Life can't be so bad.
The boys love me. I wonder why? I can be so demanding. I don't know where I get it from. They seem to try so hard to please me. I push more.
I'm told I'm so beautiful. The only way I will get away is to use it. I don't know how.
My savior from the farm that wasn't so funny felt important to this.
I could have had a new family many times but didn't. I wondered at times when at the worst why it would be better for me to stay. Life is hard out there. There are no guarantees.
Will I be a good parent I worry. Others help me to this. I listen with open ears and want to learn the new way. I'm so grateful for smart people. How do they make them? Is this magic?
The whole field awaits me as the tall sunflowers greet me and talk to me each day. The sun as the dandelions blow through the wind making my life into wishes that come true is made for me.
The birds sing to me in the morning. I hear them tell me to get up and be happy. All the other sounds are commands to my actions. I run and play and listen to them all day.

Page four

I make my perfect house in the rocks, in the cellar, in my room if I can find a corner, that's safe and quiet. I get by.
My barbie isn't perfect or even a barbie. It's important for me not to have the brand. Others do around me that are close. I'm to not feel like an adult or growing up. How do I get around this? I'm desperate to feel the same. I'm struggling.
She is cute besides. Her freckles constitute a light child. Perhaps that is good. Is that my out in this? Take my differences that are supposedly better and use them?
I push my heart from my imperfect doll and find another outlet for love. I'll once again turn to my baby dolls. I'm a bit older but it suffices me. It drinks love into my body. I find a secret hidden spot for love that heals me.
No one can hear that I hide by the heater for warmth of affection I get no more. I must be too big. My body can fit the whole heater as I wrap myself around it. I'm yelled at to not get found or show I need this. I found a place under my bed for this but feel ashamed. I hold the covers tight instead and find a comfortable place in feathers in my pillow. I must be lucky to have feathers. I have pretty colors in my blankets above me. Some are pink with green that I see outside. I must be special. I've seen some adult picture to flowers of similar stance. This is a good aim toward adulthood . I must be being given some of this.
There is intelligence in everything that a person does. I always find it. The best things nurture you and heal you to who your are. If not God is always there. He always saves you. He flies up so high so you will always be happy and safe.
I know because I saw him in the pictures of the perfect place, in the church, where love is full and the priest reaches out to me with love. I am safe here. I know.
So many people in pain on the wall. Why? I have to think. So this doesn't happen to me I feel. I'm here guarded from it. I'm glad the priest doesn't speak of it, but my mind and ears close when he does.
I see and feel circles around me as the adults party to new occasions. I'm not here that much again, but I'm safe and okay. My world is good.
I think grandma loves me but she pushes me away. She is my only meaning to this salvation. The wave almost sweeps me away as she lets me go out of her arms, I can drown. I wondered where I will go now?
The other is offered pay to take me in. Grandpa does not know what to do with me when he's drunk. Why am I such a bother, when I've found my own place.
Dad doesn't look at me much. He used to. He never put me down. I demanded to it. He drinks and yells horribly at times. Throws my mom and comes at me. He's very unhappy. I wonder why.
My mom seems scared to have him kiss me or be alone with him. I defy to this. He says it's okay. He'd rather. He doesn't love me? I'm getting too big.

Page five

I ask to die while I'm still pretty. The ugly ones won't be loved in heaven. My dad says I'm crazy.
I dream for a statue for me because I'm great and grow to this. He says I'm crazy.
I see the big white house on the hill that I know is mine. I feel it. He says I'm crazy.
He makes me food that makes me sick when I'm older that he know has grease that I never could handle. He smiles as my face and body reject it.
My sister makes me protein with a vegetable after a coma that doesn't give me starch to drink up what I can't. She smiles as by body suffers.
My baby lays quietly in her house as she wants to take it. I know not to leave it.
She cries so insistently to this. I know this isn't true. I can feel it.
I'm driven to one house that is the only one for a boyfriend that hasn't been fought to. My best friend who knows me well can't come. She is pushed away from my life. This boy hurts me and takes away my baby. I seem to have been drugged by him like my sister to cover it all up. They're all friends now, my adult family and sister, even though I've left him.
I still when not being tortured by them can look beautiful. If they knew the extent to it they would kill me.
They start out all over again and again. The small movements, notions, motions, and ways that they get into my life. I start to get sick all over again. I don't think I'll make this one.
I feel God more and more on my side now. He is everywhere. Nothing to think about now. How wonderful power is in this human life.

Sneek Peek You Maimed Me song video #sexualharassment #lorijean #musician #countryrock

You Maimed Me at google drive and at google plus here.

move on to show

value to all

expected to have sex
on a job to be successful
we're told

we seemed to have been mistaken
for more than co workers

while I may have had
too much of a glass
at the christmas bash

a remembrance to my behind
is not needed to remind

we need another place for this
so I won't act too fast
from your grasp

reveal your story
surprise them
shock them
tell them to f off

defiant as a child
no one told us
grandma, grandpa
cross your legs
then keep them open

You maimed me
another time another place
so I can act like a lady

                                                       You Have the Wrong Girl