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Silent profanities, revised

ANDREA TRAVIS Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Silent profanities, revised which was written by poet ANDREA TRAVIS. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.



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Silent profanities, revised

the silence of these

screaming profanities!

only the light rise

of my bosom,

fluttering erratically,

soon to die.

ever stinging ache within

ablaze, engulfing my torso.

 my inner-thoughts, my betrayal,

weakness emanating from my 

my cold cruel heart,

shut off from that once 

passion that consumed my soul.

bitterness now my old friend,

keeping me alive by torture!

was i ever a woman consumed 
by  passions, that lived depite 
my murderous intent?

ever drowning in my lovers 

this wall is built of bitter bricks.

My fortress, your all consuming 

i seek you not...

must endure a thousand paths 
of torment and a thousand 
paths, which have no end or 

 my contentment lies in 
masters of old, for thier 
insanity is kindred to my own,
troubles of the mind.

 never to recieve any sign, only 
to grasp, on turn of a phrase, to 
sustain thought of my 
bloodsport of art. 

on the brink of lunacy...

never ending craving to read 
the word or phrase that 
connects my strewn about dots.

 barely sane to be sober...

cutting deep into my warped 
inner being,

 no one one can understand or 
put meaning to my vague 

 I'm not profound, written for 
an emotional stunt, the ever 
poetic child.

 climbing to scratch his mark on 
forest tree.

long forgotten, the passion in 
this dungeon of my coldest 

now, know these tradegys 

lines of self pity and contempt,
if such are true realities in my 
backward and warped 
fools who find the meaning, 
never have scratched my 

nice to think they they can be 
sympathized when devoid of all 
true compassions,

they lie to them and pretend to 
get the deeper consciousness

born , immaculate, chosen by 
celestial providence...

the passion, she's calling you,
has been a forced 
joke, fit in.

but truth be ,told, you have 
been destined for this auction 
of your soul, piece by piece, 
like a bleeding cutout heart, 
this much be private 
understood hopefully by you.

but your peers will give you 
accolades and those can't bear 
to like your work,  simply cause 
they havent reached you realm 

words to wise; protect your
words, as your breath, it's all 
you really have now;  survival


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  1. Date: 2/27/2013 3:56:00 PM
    i get where your comming from. just never been there or i was the bad guy. maybe because i'm divorced. i was asked to go to counceling but refused because i was convinced it was all her fault and eventually she would reject the counceling anyway. forany matter best of luck.

    Date: 2/27/2013 6:25:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    Thanks for your comment! This piece needs a lot of unraveling. It's actually about my inability to write all winter long! I'm the only one with the silent profanities screaming in my head, because I couldn't get the words on paper. I'm glad you got something different out if it and hope it helped you in some way! That's what poetry is all about, the readers take on it! Thanks again!