A soul cries yet nobody hears him
They say he has neither a head nor limbs
But he has a soul and a spirit
Undesirable is the soul to be taken from the womb
A soul cries yet nobody hears him
His voice is so mild that no one can hear him
He’s damned for a crime he didn’t commit
No supplication and inspiration to share
A soul still cries yet nobody hears him
He has neither words nor songs to hymn
He’s languishing from a lashing whip
A victim to hatred, dubiety and immorality
A soul cries yet nobody seems to care
He pleas for his precious life to be spared
Yet with a mild voice no one will give an ear
With despair he cries and screams into the night
A soul cries yet this girl has turned a deaf ear
A voice tells her “eliminate him from here”
But a master fate will sometimes have it to be
The Dame escorted him six feet underground
The Poet Preacher © 2014
I do not know?
Dear Sir,my innocence is gone now, no more fear ,
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here.
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen,
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain !
I was crying, i was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened.
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end.
I begged you to stop and I looked into your eyes,
there was a reflection of a cruel world,that what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did,
Nobody knows that you made me bleed.
Dear sir,my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was blind!
having hidden hatred inside,a virgin died.
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories,
time doesn't heal all wounds,that you marked,
yes,you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My knees have touched every part of this floor
Not for the satisfaction one would get from acting out a favorite animal position
But more from being dragged around like an animal
My disposition was no longer sweet
Cuts and bruises covered my feet
I tried to run
Even tried jumping out the window
Since luck spared me from being thrown from it yet
But every attempt failed
I was jailed
I placed my hands on the glass
Clear for the world to see
In hopes that someone, anyone
Would save me
Each day I placed another blood stained hand print on the window
Passerby must have thought I was an artist
Red turkey decorations
In the middle of summer?
They must have thought it weird
As they just looked and passed by
My cries were heard only by me
Numerous phone calls made to the police
One time too many, I guess
Because their visits ceased
I was advised to file an Order of Protection
Since the police themselves couldn’t offer protection
My mind was boggled with the thought of useless police
With such closed minds and biased beliefs
It was my fault for being in the situation I was in
Thanks a lot to those women
Who deceitfully mirrored my pain,
Willfully brought shame to my name
For women, they are insane
For thinking this is a game
I am a woman
And because of that
I get choked with
The insanity cloak
From the first mention of domestic violence
I was so sick and tired of
My pleas for help
Being greeted with silence
The first chance I got
I filed an Order of Protection
Thinking this was my underground railroad to freedom
Just to think
I survived through all the punching, slapping, pushing
Rapes and threats
Just to have this order of so-called protection
Place the highest bet
On my life
I made it under ground and realized
The grass is greener on the other side
But why did I have to die?
this is a story of a woman.
work hard for the living.
used to work in the evening.
her face is filled with glitters.
inside the cave of dragons and beasts...
she is my beloved childhood friend.
she made a letter one day we met.
to let the people know 'bout herself.
she left it my wallet one morning,
and this is what she's telling....
she was only 15 when she left our town.
try to experience a life she dreamed about.
she dreams to change her life somehow.
but trouble had came and wreck her life.
thought this man can save her from the dark.
but the wheel of fortune did not fave her.
she was thrown inside the carcel.
she became famous in a world of fools.
dancing alone with a pair of shoes.
naked and wounded, her soul is abused.
too many years passed,
our roads had crossed.
I saw her picture in front of a door.
her hair has colors,her face is old.
I went to witness what a world she holds.
so many people are watching over,
their eyes are glimmer and craving.
I look up and see what's amuse them.
A question risen up in my head.
why is she dancing with just a pair of shoes?
that night seemed long, we drove away.
we felt each moment, our soul had mate.
I've drowned in a passion I dreamed to own.
I wake up that morn, I'm all alone.
holding a letter she wrote all night long.
this is the story of a woman,
wearing just a pair of shoes.
she is not different from you.
she is a princess of her dad.
she's an angel, she must be love.
Written by: Aiyah De Torres
Entry for WOMEN ONLY Poetry Contest
** 4th Place Winner**
She claimed her rights as a young lady
And in the coming years a woman
She don’t want to be an endangered species hunted by violence daily
She got rights too…she’s a human
Stand against this bliss
Gender Base Violence a sure diss
No more verbal abuse, emotional abuse or physical abuse
It’s your rights to reject abuse, so claim it, good news
You can only be his victim
Only if you allow yourselves to be used by him
You’re no longer going to be told…shut up!
You’re worthless, or what you say is meaningless…Just stop!
Or you’re stupid or call you names to graphic to repeat
After that, he says he loves you you’re so sweet
Well, decide today…that behavior is unacceptable
The truth comes before the love…Whether Sharon, Susan or Mable
Cause if he truly love you
He won’t want to abuse you
Are my words credible, Gender Base Violence become a label
Let’s take action and fight with all our might
“Claim your Rights”
©Copyright November 28, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
1. They Ask (For 1984 riots)
how were you coupled with him?
has dried up your eyes.
Finding solace in my gasps
You tell me-
How can I disclose
that the radiance of your blood,
before becoming my vermilion,
is gleaming in my eyes.
The perennial sea of my eyes is red-
with the ire
and with the woe
I can't lend the azure icy frost
to my venomous eyes.
I confess asking you
“to curse me hard”
but the curse- bigger than the age of life,
When did I- the sinner- sought?
How should I be grateful to you
you only know.
Talking of Salvation
how callously you behaved-
left me, to rust for rest of my life
you have salvaged
with the appearance of your body.
Whom can I blame that you deserted me!
to my destiny….?
to rabid, unscrupulous predator dogs….?
Or to the swathe of the religion…?
Do you think???
Blaming the destiny
can relieve me
of the uneasy feeling of being
See- you have not kept
any of my promises
I admit, you didn’t make any
But were obliged under yourcommitments
If the rabid dogs…
were not obliged for the promises
how your creed could forgive you!
You were the same…
whobeseeched your deity,
wished well for all
butstrayed from my wellbeing….
preventing me from a giggle
you took all my laughter…
Where was your lord
For whom you once said-
“Oh lord whom Thou bless…”
Before fighting the tilted battle
did you call on that Lord
or your Mother…
or in agony, pain and helplessness
referring the humanity
I won’t be able to know…
Look- your Mother
is in the endless wait
for you and your brothers
in the hope…
You were the youngest
Mother’s beloved, but naughty…
Admitted that you liked hide and seek
But were you right in hiding
with aging mother waiting forever…
for her you were Sarwan Kumar,
Now who will quench her thirst
And how can I make it clear,
that how am I related to her.
Look! before your rites are completed
I am again made up so much
I laugh openly now
With the shadows of the mourning phase
My mouth is full with sweet,
contrary to your bitter smog.
Still everyone asking;
how were you coupled with him?
Has made the stars
and the moon redundant for you…?
By Angeline Star
The ad stated that
the prospective employee
should have the ability
to prepare and serve food samples
using small appliances such as
microwaves, fryers, skillets, coffee makers
He had a background
Don't know 'bout you, but I'm in a stew
that Rice ain't nice and the NFL smells.
Seems a shame, just 2 games
suspension for sending fiancé to unconscious dimension
but 5 games in the pink for some "illegal" ink
and a season on the rope for smokin a little dope.
Too bad, violence gainst women so sad
but these are men in a violent pen
NFL pretzel logical?
Whatever the reason, dirty laundry in preseason
washed clean yawl, if Ray take us to the Super Bawl.
and Vestigial Conscience
The sun overshadowing my morality
my self- righteousness eclipsed
Where early mans' dawn is,
Our sun over my left *should* threaten to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that fail to connect us to
full stomachs for our children, solid comfort during our elders’ aging and respite needs
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar
the way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected to
various seafaring warring factions!
Tyranny and takeover spark hatred
blinding rage, like
action- oriented swarming killer bees~
Vestigial, then, is it - our
Weeping flows, but flash floods cannot compare,
and the burn of fury that hot lava
NO! of liquid molten, from the deepest depths of Earth's core -
even that cannot compare
to the condemnation
my foe must assume.
With this pen I secure my conduit to the divine,
My unpretentious foothold here from my pedestal,
My spears are fueled
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
Daughters of the American Revolution,
weren't you early colonists settling in Maryland?
Wasn't The Crown's high noon tea wrought with hypocrisy?
I was wrong when I supposed
McCongress ordered striking the King's son
off the Dollar Menu, To Go,
when they showed up at the
Morocco & France have tensions
today that sprouted around this very topic, you know.
Everyone has to pay attention to who the special children are,
from the special castes - it is written and taught in
children's international fairytales
written by nations collectively-
cultures present their insides
in their telling of morals embellished
inside gripping tales
to their children,
use of cultural symbols and
delectable terms, the signs all
lead directly to the diaper room.
But for this poet, it was the Irish potato famine
forbidding entry into libertine culture.
We had a life together i went to sleep beside you every night and as i would lay there with you beside me i would think and dream to myself you as my man would one day make me your wife they say its funny how things can change with one strike from night to daylight or better yet how there's a thin line between love and hate but never in my mind would i ever dreamed of changing my mind but only time can tell fate cause now in present days all i can feel for you is hate which god forgive my soul its so great but over time i may heal and forgiveness may be possible but for now i don't forget or forgive all the horrible things you did like grab me up in front of my kids or pull my hair until the scalp balls or what about all the 911 calls or what about the times you almost choked me out whatever occasions you choice forever always i refuse to be abused by you or any dudes are you confused cause my head is on straight being with you was a god honest mistake living with you was like Jesus on a stake sacrificing my all for a fool like you how dare you put your hands on a woman who would do anything for you its too late to stop and wonder love for you is so deep down under rain has fallen lightning has flashed so has the sounds of thunder clashed i mean do you pay attention i do believe i mention i would leave you where you stand if you ever raise your hand i mean i do understand that this was no plan but DAT does not take away the fact that i had to fight back from your physical and mental abuse and all the anguish of being misused but in the end we cant mend together what i thought would be forever there could never be a we i let the abuse go so i can be free...
In the Bedroom
Cool, callous, catatonic in the calm silence
About to experience the virtues of violence
In his mind, the blind eye was violations seeing
What flicker of light in her eyes, simply fleeting
He came to project what he was believing
In order to justify the self-deceiving of rape.
Unable to move from her schizoid shape
She rested motionless, awake, without
Possibilities of sudden escape.
The removal of motion from the still body
Cold, clammy hands on a summer's day tawdry
Then, the dripping of sex from a butterscotch sunset.
Without violence, he took her against her will
To the visions of black nightfall.
Oh country, oh country for you I sing
Land of the free, home of the brave
Where we hung our people because they said it was okay
All hail the venomous sting
Oh country, oh country hell has risen in our generation
Beyond any control we have lost it
We’ve dug too many graves, we’re exhausted
All hail the venomous temptation
Oh country, oh country are you really for me
I see my women raped and forgotten
My women, of the earth, turned rotten
All hail the venomous Eve
Oh country, oh country it’s time for change
No more war, no more society secrets
Take heed to the promises broken with deepest regret
All hail the venomous reign
It was one too many times
I felt that back hand
Rip fast across my face
My tongue no longer had a taste
For the rice pudding
Left sitting at my hospital bed side
The entire make up in the world
Couldn’t hide all the bruises
I started telling people they were tattoos
One of the many excuses
I began using so much
Until the point they were real to me
Forced myself into a new identity
That my lies could be true to
Since I couldn’t be true to myself
I wasn’t selfish
My heart and I were
Hand in hand
Racing to a beat
Only we listened to
Until my poor heart gave out
A shadow of doubt
That I would take care of the home
That bore the very essence of my soul
Was my heart
Into a flat line