Daddy, why did you go away?
Don't you know I wanted you to stay!
Daddy, when you left mom,
Don't you know you left me too?
Now all I do is cry and cry
--- I want to die!
Daddy, mommy say's it's better this way,
What does she know!
They're not enough band-aids to cover up the blues
Mom's kisses can't heal this kind of pain.
Daddy, I look around
No one stands in your garage
Daddy, You took every tool
Except the hammer and sitting stool
Daddy, I still miss you
--- I love you.
Dear Daddy, I'm all grown up now
Haven't seen you since I was 10
Daddy, I sit on your favorite chair,
No longer do I miss the way you caressed my hair.
Daddy, I'm taking the old hammer and this BRAND NEW saw,
It's time to patch all the holes mom punched in the wall
*The day you walked out on us*
Daddy, don't worry about the times I tripped and fell
Mom found someone to fix the loose boards,
Got tired of scraping my knees
Daddy, I finally realized I'm okay,
I agree with mom, it's better this way.
by- Not every dad is great (but step-dad YES!)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Unseen and unheard;
silent killer escalates.
Heart's vibrations decrease;
brain seems deceased.
Ignorant ones judge;
inflicting lasting emotional lacerations.
easily wounded by harmless words.
Body becomes numb;
insensitive actions adopt hypersensitivity.
Melancholic misery torments;
nervous self-disgust deludes with impatience.
mentally chains senses which struggle to escape.
disturbed - disgruntled - disconcerted, it captures.
infuriatingly it stays by my side.
Ravenous with greed;
devours... Ingesting... Digesting.
6 April 2016
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016
I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin | Year Posted 2013
an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong,
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.
i the mirror
the babbling brook,
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.
who was once held in the
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
one thousand shards
the jaded moments of my life.
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.
never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!
i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.
a perverse facade
what should of been
NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
will bring me peace,
will deliver me,
burn my body whole
dig me a deep hole
throw me void of soul
the waters of the screaming ocean
who herself dies a slow painful death.
Dec 20 2015
with a major contribution by
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
A WISH -- In Memory Of
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.
In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 --- RIP March 25, 2013
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
When the whole world is causing you pain and anguish,
everything they say only afflicts deeper wounds.
Trapped in a cage, but no one hears your screams.
You try to explain, but no one understands your words.
Demons begin to play hide and seek with your soul,
and the voices in your head are hammering your brain.
Sooner or later everybody abandons you,
there is no one to save you, how worthless you have become.
All alone, like a butterfly you look to return to your cocoon,
fragile and broken you turn into an ascetic recluse.
But in isolation and solitude you can save yourself,
so listen to the silent messages hidden in your grief.
These are the messengers who bring the secrets to your cure,
lose yourself in the tranquillity and serenity of silence.
In silence everything begins to make sense,
let it weave it's magic and bring you back to peace.
Silent One. 9 August 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Love Notes in a Bottle
It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come
That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free
Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Inside of old love letters
She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes
Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee
You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost
On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee
A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand
Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
He cloaked her skin
with a dark silk gown
made of tattered wings
neath the hunter' skies
He covered her hair
with a mourning veil
Upon her face
his hands did play
the vacant gaze
the secret pains
His brush did paint
the monaliza's eyes
upon her lips
he carved a smile
with no expressions
of what one is to behold
Secret whispers still untold
Ghostly mist will keep on lingering
in the silence of her soul
There she stares
from the old portrait
Would somebody let her go?
Was this the girl who entered his dream?
Did he paint her pain?
Was she the same?
Lush lips that couldn't smile
Sullen eyes that couldn't lie
telling of strife
unable to bloom
sheltered from the light
Was he to save her?
Thoughts echoed in his mind
Is he her savior?
Will he fly to her side?
Will he be her star that shines?
the portrait calls
save me, come save me
Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2014
Why do you give me a hard look from your face?
that you don't like what you see?
that I'm from a different race?
Why can't we see eye to eye?
why do I disgust you,
like you don't wanna be near me
would you please tell me?
tell me why you hate me?
Do you hate me because of the color of my skin?
like I'm a disease?
you don't think I have desires?
that I have needs?
We aren't from the same race,
but by soul,
we live in the same world.
You may think I'm nothing,
just push me into the mud,
knowing we both have the same colored blood.
You can't judge me by my appearance,
or by my race,
or even the color on my face.
Say what you want to say,
you can't judge me,
for I didn't choose to exist in the first place.
Copyright © verlena dillard | Year Posted 2014
Wondrous of many blessings.
Smiling never a frown.
My prayers, Lord, are suddenly being ignored.
I've taken a tumble of fallen down
Lord, my life was plain and simple
How did it come to this?
Lord, now I carry a burden so deep
A torn up life not easy to fix
Hard to get my prayers before I sleep
Bleeding only internally!
Feeling very minutely!
God, have you deserted me or is it me who deserted you?
God, my Lord, my savior, how could you abandon me?
Must I drown in my own sorrow?
Must I wake up like this today and tomorrow.
Why have you left me, or is it me who left you?
God, I need you like never before.
When I wake up,
When I head out the door.
Tormented in a mood ring of stock
Heavily my tears hit the floor.
God, do you not feel me, or is it me who no longer feel you?
God, what is your plan for me?
What things did I not see?
I asked for you to forgive me in my ways of sin.
Why do you let him provoke me?
Lord, I forbid for him to win.
Relieve me from his gutless pain.
God, do you not believe me, or is it me who no longer believe in you?
God, do you not hear my call
My pitiful excuses make me weak and small
In your eyes, I no longer feel tall
I remain cursed in every single fall
Lord, only you can break this wall
Do you not see me on my knees
Must I beg and crawl?
I am at your mercy, crying out with grief
Open the path to the lighted hall
O' Lord, the day you judge me before your throne
Please tell me it was a lesson for me to stand up on my own
God for now I will end this talk
With the dignity to never look back
I ask if you were there on my endless journey of a relentless walk?
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Listen to the silence
the silent ... nothing
Silent screams of pain
loneliness that is currently
and loneliness luggage tomorrow
Slowly creeps into darkness
shadows as an eternal companion
The total feeling of emptiness, disappointment and sorrow
A longing for tenderness, touch and love
The butterflies are gone ... they've flown their way
Left me here alone - abandoned the covenant of love
Tears fall like silent thunder
Loneliness and fear behind the mask
The mask falls when the tears come
The silence of tears and sorrow
Swollen, teary and red eyes
Trying to catch a ray of angelic light
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013
This battle brews inside me
The pain I feel in my heart ripping it apart
And my soul who wants to be redeemed
The movement of my pen beats in my chest
In my veins my words flow like the rage of rivers in storm
I’m caught in these lyrics that Awaken my soul
That cry out for eternity
Yet my heart is trodden
at times I swear it is not beating
Our hearts rose up like kindred knights ready to defend our land
but the soul was fulfilling its destiny
it would not be beaten, no matter…
it had awakened to truth
but our hearts knew only torment
and could not understand
all that was happening,
that God had a plan
so my pain exposes itself
in my thoughts manifesting to script
as it beats in my chest with a rhythmic pulse
that brings me to my knees
We had no time to prepare
Only to fight
Flailing around Hope
With all of our might
as if it were the weapon that would save us from our enemy
for that’s all we had was our sword of Hope
This battle we were not prepared for.
Like a sneak attack, it caught us in slumber
when the army of death ascended upon our world
my heart said I love you
you are my universe and life has no meaning without you
I will fight till my shallow breath abates
Till your soul takes the last blow...
And I did!
We did not surrender
We had no chance
Our hearts fought a losing battle
My awakened soul shouts out with acceptance…
“you will one day know the reason, but not now”
For this is your time to experience
what was lovingly bestowed upon you from our God,
who knows what we need
So now I write from my pain… It helps me to cope…
It is the sword I carry…
My only Hope
Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013
Mother, don't cry for me,
my time has come.
Wipe away your tears,
I will always be your son.
I will never forget the sacrifices,
you made when I was young.
Although I won't be there,
my spirit will always be watching over you.
My brother, please don't lose hope,
my legacy will always live on.
Look after those close to you,
now you are their rock.
My sister, please don't be sad,
in my short life, you gave me so much love.
I hope my distant memories,
always bring a smile to your face.
Oh my beloved, please don't wait,
I hope you can love again.
I know your heart is broken,
but we will meet again.
My children, so this is goodbye,
I only breathed for you,
and even after my last breath,
my love will never end.
Even though I will be gone,
you will never be forgotten.
Nothing lasts forever,
everything we love, we lose.
Pain was the only thing,
that reminded me I'm alive.
Now that I don't feel any pain,
It must be the end...
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
'the wound is where the light enters you' Rumi
In every adversity there is a lesson
in every pain a message - listen
Life will inflict many troublesome trials
inside you there is a lion fighting for survival
Keep smiling even when the path is unclear
every wound can heal - when peace is found
We will all fall - even the brave and strong
it is how we rise that is the important task
Your soul will always dance if you find ethereal light
search for the key to unlock the chains to your mind
Example for Quote me Rumi contest
The Silent One
2 December 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
One day there was an accident, and to heavens gate I was called.
As an angel sat down beside me, upon the bed I had been put upon.
Such a shining warmth ensued as it held me in its thrall.
A thought from God proclaimed, “What with your life have you done?”
Then all of life fled past me, but not as I did expect to see it done.
For all I saw and felt were things I hadn’t known I had done, and yet…
So much pain inflicted to each, with such little words and thoughts.
I never would have known such power, by one person, could be wrought.
I bowed my head in shame at the pain I knew I could not undo, yet…
Suddenly, I found myself forgiven. Yes, TRULY it was true!
Hallelujah became my amazed and impassioned cry before him, that night!
His warmth had never wavered, nor even his illustrious, wonderful light.
How could he forgive me, someone as wretched and lowly as I?
And yet, he did… and so he changed my life from then on out.
But low and behold he wasn’t yet done with me, or so my story goes…
He sent me back to my home again… it in comparison brought me low.
But he said my work lay uncompleted, so now I must go back…
He said to stay clean and I would blossom… What do you think of that?
A veil he placed upon my eyes to remove me from the knowledge of all I’d known.
Then he sent me from his side, where I could not see him but knew he was.
Now, here I stand before you, a totally changed and humbled one.
Still, I have found I have sinned again… I know he must have known.
Perhaps some day, as I patiently wait… I’ll be allowed once more within his gate.
Only time will tell, as again I’ll feel every ones pain…
All I can say is: God Forgive Me… as I continue to wait…
(This Near Death experience really happened and changed my life.)
Written 5-25-12 By Carol Eastman
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…
A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
the kind of pain, that begs for blades
Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
A slave without shackles,
I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
Forever, I am the Darkness
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
Casarah Nance and Poet Destroyer
August 04, 2015
Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015
Knowledge gained liberates or mutilates.
Ramifications of reality’s realm reached
make your insides want to abandon the body ship.
Rocking back and forth as you hurl dry acidic pain
expelled by the force of shell shocked lucidity:
You’re not good enough to be loved.
Breathing in is treason.
Your heart demands release of life’s lease.
On the kitchen floor
crumpled dreams drag to prostrate form.
Every reason to stay is obliterated.
Ascorbic failures scream.
Heart blood transforms to salty rivulets.
Self-loathing usurps the throne of belief.
"Appeasement sacrifice,” it sagely suggests…
For someone for whom love is cell oxygen
grey matter food
supreme soul sustenance,
life without full bodied Love is death.
Might as well...
Cowardice cackles and goads….
The cut isn’t deep enough.
Red streaked line mockery of mental hell feels
abhorrence breathing between the sobs
that one hears …
No one hears
Troubled mind has drained desirability’s delight.
Not strong enough to live not strong enough to die,
you are spent…
Silence begs to benumb,
yet a reminder remains.
The thorn of truth finds a home.
Embedded in my side,
it won’t be denied.
it is unseen by naked eye-
exposed to the naked heart.
With every movement of love making
matrimonial mattress yet exudes
the faint scent of virginal dreams...
It digs in deep.
Nothing will change.
YOU cannot change.
You are unlovable.
You're troubled and troubling brain
takes beauty down to notch of insane.
Give it all away.
Lavish and ravish.
Obsessively bid for love
while you auction respect away,
but herein is the cursed truth:
You are not good enough to be loved.
You never were.
You never will be.
For Charlotte's Heart and Soul Contest
September 2, 2014
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
Brighter than a fall bonfire but with the chill of ice,
the winter sun haloes a gray and barren woodland;
throbbing, almost hesitant, with a florescent pulse,
brazen in its unrelenting descent, it clings to the horizon.
How it hurt my eyes.
Thin skinned, the lids tinge orange, the white of sol’s merging.
Trunks, boughs, branches, twigs, welt the dusk,
rouging the line between, blooding the virgin night.
Pricked, the brain pulses in tune, unable to look away.
How it hurt my mind.
Splayed fingers do not block the sharpened spears of screaming light.
The winter sun, indexed, and palmed, scratches the face of I.
Within a dakened room beneath a pall, behind hides blue veins,
near comatose, I sigh, the light, the light, until shades and stars arrive.
How life and death both hurt.
First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 2014
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015
This One’s for You
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Wherever you are, when life seems hopeless,
And your scrambled essence screams inside out.
The pain wrenches it’s own form of anguish.
Head harrowing, distant dreams devoured
Fear asks, “Why me? Dear God, why me? Why me?
Release the throbbing hurt; control moments.
Revive the tranquility once within.
Just for a moment, wait upon the Lord.
Let Him hold you. Do you sense His presence?
Never give up on God; share your sweet soul.
All around. See the wonder of Creation.
The beauty prepared for you. Please partake.
Preclude pain. Spotlight God for a moment
He can bequeath irresistible joy.
Never give up on God, spill your sweet soul.
Permit the fear to disappear; hear God.
Cast off your pain in Jesus’ Holy name.
Listen quietly for a little while.
Hear Him; sense the mighty comfort He gives.
Trust His strength to help you and heal your heart.
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009
How can you look someone in the eyes and tell them it's the end?
How can you possibly do that without shedding tears?
Or even blinking?
Do you not feel it? That pain, that pain that's taking over
Their soul, as you tell them their life is ending?
Or maybe it's just that you have lost your own soul?
In that instant when you found out that the greatest part of yourself
Is about to disappear,
That its light was about to be permanently extinguished.
Can't you feel it? That sorrow that slowly shutters their hearts?
Or the fear that's taking over their minds? it's a furious fire,
Cutting off any glimpse of hope with its smog,
That fear, its suffocating their soul into its last gasp.
Can't you see it? How that laughter ends sharply, in pain?
How it breaks in half every time, never to relapse into its fullness?
How the darkness stealthily takes over those, once life-filled, eyes?
That following calm,
It's the call of darkness,
Smoothly enchanting their soul into submissiveness.
Until all is in deadly silence,
Their bodies still, their souls forever gone into unknown.
Do your tears come then? Do you feel their pain then?
Do you see it? Or do you stay the same?
Unchanged, unemotional, shell shocked,
And forever unbelieving still?
Copyright © Alina Councilman | Year Posted 2013
Makes me furious seeing a woman with a bruise over her eye.
The smeared mascara from the tears she's cried.
Pain he's caused, scarring her inside.
Silent Prayers are whispered into the night.
You're under one helluva spell when you don't tell.
You're not well when you accept being put through hell.
It's been awhile since you've focused rself.
Staying with that man is simply bad for your health.
Because of him there is so much life you've missed.
How could you love a man that mistakes a kiss for a fist?
He's not stable; definitely not mentally okay.
If his idea of "love" is to physically harm you in such a way!
You're under one helluva spell when you don't tell.
You're not well when you accept being put through hell.
Stand up! Free yourself from those emotional chains.
No more scrubing shirts from blood stains.
Your world will be a happier, warmer place.
No more heavy makeup covering your pretty face.
So be strong now and walk away.
Live to love "you" and your children another day.
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009
Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow,
They'll be now part of the epic history,
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony?
Where we are all thirsty.
The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death,
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory,
When bullets can't do anything for survival,
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.
They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood,
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant,
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game,
Shooting one's body as if a little toy,
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them?
When they will die?
In service, for security the heroes died,
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty,
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks,
Through their eyes, inside their brains.
The agony and heartaches they leave behind,
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life,
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times,
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy,
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them,
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same,
The light will also be now the wall.
All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise,
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases,
Repeats the failure of my Country,
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!
Copyright © Reuben Escarlan | Year Posted 2015
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
One thing that I know all about, without any doubt
The meaning of “Oppression of The Soul.”
I once shattered all my dreams, with ill-gotten schemes
Along with every single goal
Emptiness is a real dark thing
As it eats its way through your soul
I found the bottom of the pit, all I can say of it
It truly was a very empty hole
I guess every story has a meaning
Just as every game has a price
If you look closely at me, you’ll be able to see
A lifetime of pain in my advice
Oppression is a real dark word
Regardless of how the word is used
If you’re in the shadow of it, the bottom the pit
You know what it means to be abused
For years I walked in the shadows
I had nothing but hatred for the Son
I just couldn’t see, why it had to be
All the things in my life that had been done
If you were to look into my eyes
And read all the stories they have to tell
All you would be able to see, is pain and misery
A shadow that was in a living hell
I know all about oppression
For it rolls upon the shores of hate
I once looked in the mirror to see, a ghost living in me
Just a skeleton walking through his fate
I also know all about redemption
Behind every shadow there rest some form of light
With in the breath of a prayer, I learned how to care
Thus changing the course of my plight
Every story has a meaning
There is a way to right any wrong
Grasp to the light, and then hold on tight
As you search for the meaning of your song
My song once was heavy metal
I truly loved to bang my head
An empty soul, with a bottomless hole
A never-ending hunger to be fed
Now my song is a ballad
A story that is full of hope and love
I learned how to pray, and give it away
Accepting grace from the Lord above
Oppression crosses our paths everyday
It is everywhere to see
You know what’s right, learn to stand and fight
You will have learned to be all that you can be
Written for the "Oppression of the Soul Contest)
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
Inhale an envious mask upon your castrated
and prompt this necessary illusion to commence.
Bathe yourself in ego-filled waters till you feel superior
to the gavel, and exit without caution from this perfect
prison called home.
The audience of youthful flattery awaits you, and those
who you hunt,
Anticipate your roar, and contemplate a permanent
Masquerade around the elementary wheels of
transportation, and make sure your crown has no opposition.
Be seated in the rear levels of mischief, and target those
who sit angelically, in frontal silence.
Remember to grin until your devilish smile has a
And act without tears, your greatest show without
Be ignorant to punctual chimes that sing, and lean on
absent temptation for comfort.
Show patience for the perfectly weak; allow them their
steps upon the wax floors,
Give them their fairy tale of safety.
For they are dreamers, and you are their scheduled
Enter classrooms initially through the minds of prey.
Let them introduce the beast without forethought,
Observe their careful whispers among the intellectual
And standby till their guard sleeps.
Lastly, steal the eyes of misery from your contemporaries
as you walk in, and sit among the walls of miseducation.
For knowledge is not the vocation you seek.
Only the beauty of suffering can compensate your lust.
Begin by insulting the eager minds that roam
brilliantly in the front row.
Shout high praises from hell, belittle their flawless
And bear no breaks of mercy until tears fall.
Now shift your heinous gears toward the everlasting
prom queen, your unrequited distraction.
She does not lean towards you, therefore you must
harm her pedestal as well.
Do not hesitate to disarm this glow that will never
infiltrate your surroundings.
Confirm that your motions are approved, by the
council of expulsion,
And give them infamous leeway to imitate in your
Reminisce joyfully over sin that will never turn pure,
as you return home.
Remove the wool from your eyes, and follow sorrow
till it wants no hint of you any longer,
A similar thought entertained by parents you forever
Lastly, if you urge beyond repair, and accept that the
sheep you threaten everyday will never turn,
Despite your purpose,
Then feel free to act as those that previously harmed,
And contemplate a permanent departure.
May god bless these faithful carriers of misery.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2014
He is now a band of sky,
a bird, a cloud, a stream of blue
drifting by in midafternoon,
a dragonfly, a butterfly, a speck of light dancing by,
an abandoned sheet of loose leaf paper
with a poem scribbled on it, or maybe
a grape ripening on the vine
sweetening to perfection in the summer sun;
he is now a feeling deepening, gravity, energy, peace, commotion, the tide –
forever August, forever June…
an ocean wave never reaching the shore (the sand and sun evermore),
a smile, a tear, laughter that never ends,
a child’s open, inquisitive mind, a friend, the welcoming voices of home,
the cracks in the walls holding my secrets,
the comfort of a favorite blanket or familiar pair of warm arms.
Perhaps, he’s eternal summer, youth running with ease
in his favorite shorts and flip-flops, hair sun-bleached tumbling free,
or perhaps, he is one feather floating high on the ocean breeze.
I often see his face in rain clouds mixed with tears,
singing the Grateful Dead or a great hymn.
He is the music forever playing in my ear and
the sweet tropical air filling my lungs;
He lives in the cozy log cabin in a clearing of pines
and the largemouth bass jumping from the lake at dawn’s break,
He’s the tortoise sunning on the shore, the buck running wild,
the heartbeat of a father holding his baby for the first time,
the joy of my morning, the pain of night,
and the wind calling my name, dancing with the leaves on the trees…
he is the trees, the air, he is in my eyes and theirs.
He is in Heaven but his love is everywhere.
Written, 3/7/15 for The Pain of Night Contest
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk?
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new
generation which skewer post present parental postulates
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions.
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it,
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize,
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil,
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder,
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx,
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued
prominantly with no recall references to problematic
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
I fall down
deeper and deeper
the sounds of evil
dripping into my ears
and sliding down into me
filling me with echoes.
terror courses through
into each cell
turning them against
they are no longer mine
they follow another
a stronger being.
icy breezes come
they whisper to me
they say I'm bad
they call me to them
the breezes dance
hiding me from the light
shielding me from hope.
my eyes are taunted
I see people
the ones I know
they are hurt
I have betrayed them
I am hurting them
it is me
but I can't stop.
my mind is plagued
comes a new terror
a cruel joke
all a prank.
only deeper do I fall
light is disappearing
all a game
for one person
the man in the
the one who is running the show
the show that is me.
he sees me falling
I can't see him
but he is there
teasing my brain
taunting my senses
he hates me
he wants to hurt me.
he throws it
I feel the pain
running up my leg
showing my bones
releasing my blood
it is blue
my blood is cold
it splatters my face
sprinkling my features
dotting them with blue
the blue liquid drips
jumping onto my tongue
I taste dirt
my blood is dirt
blue is all I see
blue is all I become
I am blue
blue is me.
a distant shout
who is it?
a cry for help
the sound is mangled
the sound is mine
I shut my mouth
but I still hear it
chilling my blue blood
ringing in my ears
shaking my breathing
jump-starting my heart
then it's over
the scream has ceased
and silence returns
sounding more deadly than ever before.
only black do I see
the monsters' playground
the demons' joyride
and someone is hungry
it wants me
it wants to take it
it feeds on people
people like me.
objects hitting me
ghosts' fingers prodding me
as I fall
I fall down
down into this never-ending hole
filled with misery
my worst fears
how did he know?
he knows I'm afraid
doesn't help me see
I can't see why
how does he do this?
they cut me again
spilling my blood
oh, the blue
I don't even feel it
I am numb
the sound of me
a quick slashing
and they are done
I am cut
I can't see my blood
but I can see how evil it must look.
the thoughts that fell
fell down with me
they talk to me
they tell me what they see
they can see
my cold blood
it is everywhere
I am pale
I look sick they say
they see the bottom
I fall faster still
slowing for nothing
for no one
being pulled down
the puppeteer has me
he's got my string
and he's pulling
with no sign of letting go.
now I hear a song
they all sing it
the notes are cruel
they bump into the others
struggling to be heard
with no set order
it is musical chaos
he yells to me
it is beautiful
and he sings along to his song
it's made for me
musical notes are played
they come up to me
they greet me
right into my cuts
surging into my blood
they search inside me
keeping them steady
picking up tempo
they found it
the music does the talking
it says to hush
my heart listens
and I get sleepy
the music is evil
played by the man
the man in the mask
my brains sends
one final request
it says to my heart
speed up, can't you see?
she is dying
you must speed up!
I still fall
with no way up
letting go of hope
dreaming of being saved
when I already know
I'll only be dropped.
I know what
it is flesh
but belongs to someone else
they smell of dirt
they are nothing to me
they are the stench
in my nose
the smell overcomes all
all the other senses
until it becomes me
and I burn too.
even in the dark
I see something
blacker than black
they are shadows
they mock me
I fill with evil
a longing to hurt
hurt the ones behind it all
I hear him
is his pleasure
oh so dark
I'm at the bottom
laying on the cold ground
in a small ball
too weak to stand
in a pool
of dark blue blood
I hold myself tight
I can't trust
he likes my weakness
he tells me I am small
I am ugly
I am worthless
I am nothing
he laughs when I cry
I thought that
it would be better
instead of up there.
hell is not a game.
death is not an
easy way out.
do not try to visit me.
do not try to rescue me.
for I am more lost
than I hope you will
now that I am
at my fate
at the entrance to hell
at the bottom of this grave
of my eternity
and if I am truly
I'll have plenty of time
to ask myself
why did I jump?
Copyright © Allyssa Pate | Year Posted 2014
Pitch black is the night there is no moon in sight
while she's standing there with the sea’s tangy air
silently inhaling, her raven hair cascading
alone by the shore, pensive, like before.
However tonight, you won't be by her side
to lose yourself again in the pools of her eyes
neither will you open any door to her mind
as she valiantly saves what remains of her pride.
You will never know how many times she has read
your words she longed to hear, yet remained unsaid
'til they came too late, for she, too weary with the wait
has now laid your love on the seaside catacomb's bed.
2 September 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
Trashed #2 Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015