Long Resenting Poems
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Have you ever had a massage of any kind?
During the process,did you,your teeth, grind?
I always thought you get this tender,sweet, relaxing feeling;
Until I became a massage client who left squealing.
What was going on inside my brain,
Accepting one to mount that pressure where there was pain?
I'm not a fool, but I hate that often times, I act dense;
Closing my eyes, toughening, that you may think I'm meditating upon sense.
Once upon a time, I willingly used my hand and chose,from the variety,a tatty dress;
I took that rag home, put it on,glanced and smiled at my beauty all as a mess!
So, I was talking about a body massage,
A body manipulation that feels good only as a mirage.
Resenting what is truth on ground,I winced;
Upon my therapist drawing closer,I flinched.
A burning sensation of discomfort and pain,
Digging through my tissues to the thinnest vein,
It's a wriggle,wiggle motion, in solemn responce to the tingle;
Love is a beautiful thing,yet, I choose to remain single,
For disappointments await in all corners,
It's an all-around world,like the defence of snorters.
The doctor gave me rules, one; that I should get massage oil;
And now, to the men that enjoy smooth ladies doing it,I was yet to be a foil!
Two,she said warm water could do; this sounded more natural;
Healing by something made by the one,whose powers are supernatural!
The massage oil in my bag,a cool melody ringing in my heart,
Out of my home, I walked with good posture,perfect gait,all smart;
Ready to meet my doctor,to feel the soothing touch.
And the long felt back pain would be no more, for I the other day,I prayed about it in church.
What,I thought was the perfect therapeutic body massage,
A moment in a hell of torment I spent,like playing a visage!
Beautiful, joy and a smile
Silencing every doubt, every fear
With a tenderness that erases
Every tear
Heartfelt inspiration, hues of grace
Stirring the spirit to dance,
To breathe through the darkness
The melancholy, the worry
Feeling the light
Wonders so brilliant and vibrant
Like stars in the midnight skies
Shimmering, dazzling, trembling
With elation, erasing
Despair
Experience the calm, the serenity
Soothing away the past, promising
Miracles growing beneath the
Shadows in silhouettes
Lovely details
Kindness, like a sigh of wisdom
Lifting the dreary gray, blackness
Crisp as a frozen branch,
Breaking to prove to the snowflake
There is always a second chance
Have faith
Music, expressions of dreams
Whimsical and wistful, ghostly
Souls who only know
It is the God of heaven who brings
Each joy, every stardust whisper –
Each experience to treasure
There is pleasure
Gracious, flowing through the veins
Singing of the moments when light
Faded into the caress, kissing
Away the flavors of crazy flames….
In brilliant gestures, amazing
Liquid truth rains down from above
Flooding the blue
He is the maker of sun and moon
His wisdom is living proof
There isn’t a reason to suspect
His mercy abides in the way
He gives without conditions, forgives
Without resenting…
His love is alive, like the warmth
From the sunlight and the caress
Of the raindrop – it never fades
It is alive, a flame, like light
Who cuts away the darkest night
His love is the answer…
To every prayer prayed
Fallen gods
The scattering embers
with their fading twinkle
danced with the whirling breeze
bemusing all with the falling twilight
with eyes skew to the misty clouds
shaggy with its opaque fluffiness
slowing edging its blankness
eerily shunning the moon
quickening the ending of a phase
a broken sword
with its shattered blade
telling a scattered tale
to the throbbing hearts
beguiled by stolen voices
shammed to a broken reality
frail by the failed quests
wretched with the fallen crest
irk with the broken wings
thrall to an empty throne
resenting the fall from grace
7/11/12
----------------------------------------------------
Lost, freaked out, unwanted
It is always the same
Stuck in a life that will always be claimed
Change makes me hurl
Excites the world—uncurls the curl
There is evidence of your death here
You are gone forever, drained by fear
My defenses are obviously gone
Though to begin with they were never strong
Never strong
Weakened by the absences
Weakened by lament
Meshed in a thousand trances
Croaked and bent
I am ashamed and stricken by lies
Hollow goodbyes
STOP FORGETTING ME
STOP RESENTING ME
Give me a break
Don’t break me, you snake!
Lift out your fangs and sink inside
Your venom remedy will keep me alive
If you are to attack, this is your best bet
Leave none of me behind and shed your regret
I designed your scales—your burning skins
Locked in hate and chained by sins
But whatever you do, don’t let me win
Because my end is soon at hand
And the graves welcome me back. . .
There is evidence of your death here
You have shed your regret and a tear
You are gone forever—my defenses are gone
Who won?
Who the hell won?
Elbows must be packed more carefully.
I catch the eye of a flight attendant.
Some preliminary questions…
"Miss can I be slipped into a less edgy wedge?
She frowns, resenting perhaps my ‘miss’
should have said ‘mam’…damn.
I carry on babbling –
“Could my mind be more swiftly amputated?
Is it possible to be shuffled laterally
until I intrude less and match more?”
Now she is throwing daggers of hate towards me.
Are the engines honking like killer geese?
Will dinner come as an intravenous drip?
Is that kid vomiting back there?
Her dislike of my questions
is as palpable as a cudgel to the head.
“Miss I can’t see; my eyes are too near the seatback.
Will you stamp my papers D.O.A. now
to save time?"
My voice through the triple layered mask
sounds like a hyperactive zombie.
She smiles robotically.
"Sir, will you please stop blinking,
you're making the other cargo nervous."
As a good gardener would do,
she had to evaluate the quality of her trees plants and fruit,
She saw that some were rotten; they had spoiled at the root.
Unforgivness and resentment suffocated her delicate tree,
It was time to prune the essences of it in its entirety,
Finding the initial cause was how she would now prepare,
Going a little deeper into the earth that had many layers.
From the time this tree was a seed,
It had glitches, cracks and lived amongst weeds,
Perhaps damaged from the packaging
Or banged up through the sifting
Causing some deformities and in need of some spiritual lifting.
Resenting the other trees,
For they were far more stunning than thee,
This garden had suffered through many damaging storms,
Causing animosity that took on different shapes and forms,
sometimes her fruit seemed a bit bitter and irate
Forgiveness was the only cure to transform this ugly hate.
Sniping away at what was easy for her eyes to see,
Then changing the soil all together to make it once again healthy
For in a season or two, what all this work would do
Would allow this trees fruit to look and be brand new.
By: sabina Nicole
Contest: secondhand emotion
Written: 1-14-12
My soul
is in purgatory,
settling in fading tunes
of suppressed silence,
swerving perpetually
amongst
smoky quartz silhouettes;
swiveling through
the
dimmed dungeon
to unraveling shadows
of yesterday’s destruction,
moving in s l o w motion~
rejoicing invisible
rainbow glows
in limitless devotion,
fugitively
resenting the shifting
season of faith~
I question the
treacherous torrents,
through
unorchestrated symphonies…
where do the tides of jealousy
crash and hide to grieve,
over untouched waves,
when it has washed
away compelling
wishes
lost in perfect storms?
For, sometimes,
when trembling
skies bleed black pearls,
upon these aching lungs,
I think of every
nameless ghost
that emanates
familiar fragrances:
convincing
my naive mind,
there’s no evil
even in darkness.
Although I’ve
seen tints of
turning leaves conversing
with tantalizing tears,
whilst this volcanic
heart is ransacked
and ruined,
d a n c i n g away from fears,
forging meaningless scribes,
in fragmented fortunes,
left as debris along the
forgotten fields of
rambling roses drenched
in remorseful rain.
And I stand in the
eye of cataclysmic cyclones~
exhaling the exhaustion,
as the wolf moon calls me,
above million
mourning mountains
in musical misery.
Yet, when cosmic curtains
sequinned with
scarlet sapphires
of midnight skies
drizzle drops
of hibiscus heaven onto the
pages of my poetic haven,
I sketch stars in the shape
of magical w i n g s..
across cursed horizons,
to soothe my
troubled thoughts:
as it’s all in my head,
the
demonic devils dressed
in dragonfly
dust to deceive me,
unaware of how
I’ve been
blindfolded by
the brutal lies
I’ve told myself
in alienated expressions,
that the normal
can never neutralize.
Whatever You do
Is final and for a purpose
We may not understand it
We may kick and scream
Because in the mean time it is painful
And we don’t understand it
But you know what each step to be taken
You know what needs to occur
As you are weaving it
The beautiful product that it will become
So now we are resenting You
For putting us through it
But we will understand
Once it is done and achieved
We may think we can’t go through it
But You will walk us through
Why do You put us through these things?
Why God?
Why do You do that?
Is it not enough for You to tell us?
Why You have to let us experience it?
For what purpose God?
Shy clouds drift over a sea of blue satin,
Remembering to breath in the used to be soothing
Sunlight gentling the truth, kindling hopes
Who reflect on the new,
Listening to aching raindrops, glistening
And bursting through the promises
On a still, clear afternoon,
While endless notes of light,
Fall like heady bliss, on the moments
When birds test their voices,
Crooning, lyrics like the wind’s breath
Pouring over the heart,
Lighting the thoughts with powerful images,
Blessing away the doubts, the dread,
Feelings unfolding inside the soul who has bled
Grieving for summer, who has gone out of my head,
As autumn sinks in around my life,
Crispy and quiet, like the leaves who dance,
Remembering, reflecting, resenting
the past’s lavender kisses, with all its plummeting wishes.
I never knew angst to be so devilish a thing
Taking me from a million clean years,
To ABC house of booze, because,
My blood money was abused by him
Wrecking the Kia Sportage I was strapped in
A passenger, pained to point of surgeries.
And on a rainy morning he swore resenting
Driving me to physical therapy,
And before the settlement, made his request:
"...Do my bathroom floor like yours."
And half of what I got was to be his
He carved such rules I broke in time
And kept secret what figures were mine.
But, lo and behold I sat pondering, counting pennies
And the devil drove me to think...
I should drink to that
All I got, and shared, and fail to stash.
Who knew Canadian whiskey would whisk me to detox?
And I, a recovering addict/alcoholic chose house of God
In AA I'd sit with alcoholics sharing what they drank,
How, when, where.
I'd rather say never again.
*