salt-softened stillness drifts inland
storm-shattered shoreline finally tranquil
sand-swept silence lingers here
surf-stilled sky offers quiet solace
shell-strewn span becomes calm
sea-sighs soothe wounds with calming winds
sun-slowed minutes glimmer softly
Fingers pull at the gashes and scars that litter the body.
They are red,
harsh against the doughy skin they have claimed.
They run so deep into the soul,
Like wells of memory,
easy to fall into.
Then barbed wire,
Displayed as tears,
scratching inside of his throat.
Thumbs lick the roughness of past pain,
eating the contrast of texture between them,
And who he remembers being.
There is no softness left,
his mind whispers,
still trying not to fall into the darkness of the past.
The cave of history is full of rocks,
Sharp with his old blood,
Wet with the waves of depression his therapist begged him to ride instead of drown in.
He wonders about the cave when the tide draws back,
Angry at the darkness,
forcing his fingers to dig into the crevasse of a scab.
He flinches at the freshness of pain,
And watches the light glimmer off the thick liquid dancing down his leg.
He closes his eyes and whispers,
Maybe,
The wound is the place where the light enters you.
To embrace future one must put behind past
Scars of the world feeds our depths emotions
Hatred upon our hearts just as we find love
I come from beauty but do not find
A image into reality concept to living
Broken soul with no perception has what purpose
But the darkness which laid that feeds
Man's spirit embrace but are they free
Tied to world torn beneath their own greed
Past graves as if today demise be meet
We as society united in themselves wicked doing
Diverse humanity denouncing religion beliefs to existence
Pleasure of one's desire devouring the journey
We are blind as if naive our mind deadly as the tongue
Where comes the soul creatures breath life
Blood run veins pumped survival instinct
Spiritual deposition of man who walked the waters
Where is it we live but yet to endure peace
Except among mankind, cuts lashed bone deep
Scars, reminder world's beating to man I become
Scarred by world ambition I die sin to law
Not of the world my soul I give but only the body
Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time,
Torn, stained, this tough shell silently unravels,
And yet, somehow, it continues to keep me alive, to protect me from the world,
It was never a shining armor, just my mask,
Trying to compensate for all that I could not be.
Sensitivity and tenderness were sacrificed on the altar of necessity,
To become my shield against the sharp and merciless wind,
My mask has burned, boiled, swelled under the relentless sun,
I treated it harshly, underestimating its silent and constant value,
Wearing it reluctantly through this sad, often unforgiving life.
I made it suffer more than it should have, under my weight,
Never acknowledging its silent and priceless sacrifice,
It, my mask, was there when I was not,
Remaining behind me, a testament to all the battles fought,
A story written in scars and burns, in its trenches of pain and silence.
Will I ever learn to truly value it, to appreciate
This mask that has borne my burdens with dignity,
To understand that it is not just a covering, but part of who I am,
A testament to my resilience, a map of survival,
That continues to defend me, despite all my mistakes?
No towel dries these stains
Dragon scales that pierce my soul
Hateful words that scorch my heart
Your reptilian heart
Stay hidden among strangers
Battle scarred by your coarse touch
pure and touched snow scarred
man ruins beauty of snow
with each footprint left
be authentic
be true
to the song
playing in your heart
there is no need
to contract consciousness
by betraying the muse
reverberating within
imitation as flattery
scars the soul
recognise and celebrate
your uniqueness
Antifa stands for nothing
other than hatred and making trouble
America's vision once again scarred and blurred
Are they skinheads, neo-Nazis ~ or I am seeing double
SOMEWHERE IN THE THICK DARK FOREST
Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
There, you'd find captives
held against their will.
Hands bound, legs chained,
They lay on the hard ground, half unclad.
Dehydrated from thirst and hunger.
Separated from their families,
As many nights and day come and go,
Thought of their imminent freedom very bleak.
The blood thirsty abductors,
Show no mercy nor compassion
As they raise their long hard twisted whips,
And dig into the wounded skin of their slaves,
With each strike, they curse and yell,
Ready to exterminate.
Men,women and children weep uncontrollably,
They have been dealt heavy blows.
Some have fallen, some have been scarred.
Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
Captives still languish
in the camp of their abductors.
© Francis Maugo
Try not to trust my words;
they're lies that I manufacture to
project an ideal life and
persuade you I'm OK.
Try not to believe my words
For I was once enslaved into
Drinking and drugs.
Furthermore, the isolation
I received from my fellow
Teaching staffs, the excommunication
Stigmatization was the order of the day.
Try not to believe the grin you see;
it's a veneer to hide
burning agony, intense disgrace,
sheer despair.
Its the scars i got from the depression
I suffered.
Try not to get tricked by my chuckling;
it is just a reverberation
of empty internal parts, longing
for faculties to return.
Try not to get persuaded by my lucidity and request;
borne in endeavor to
control the disarray
furthermore conciliate the situation unfolding inside.
Try not to be dazed by
The flawlessness I radiate,
The boldness I counterfeit,
The honesty I fake,
The certainty I wear
For I'm broken into pieces
I'm marked where im scarred,
Shame of my pain that damaged my brain
Ive been into darkness,
No, didnt come out clean
I'm marked where im scarred
These words echoe inside my brain
Pounding my chest and crushing my heart
I wish i could turn back time to fix the start
No, pray i don't give up
I'm marked where im scarred
Lord heal me inside because i feel torn apart
It beats a thousand in a breath, yet i feel like death
One day maybe i will be worthy
Instead of just a name-title, empty without a claim.
I'm marked where im scarred
as we barge through
man's footprints scar the beauty of
the pure untouched snow
He loved,but could not say
such words,he could not find;
He loved,but could not touch
such warmth,was just too much;
He was proud,but could not praise
such sounds he could not raise;
He supported,but not with words
such feelings,witheld unheard;
Sentiment,tight reined within
banished,unvoiced by him,
embittered by his own hurt,
a scarred child 'neath his hairshirt.
In the past,his crippled emotions lay
imprisoned,unsaid,'til his dying day.
Emotion=inhibition | Year Posted 2010
seemed to be so hard
putting in a gutter guard
while weathered and scared.
There she was, sad and bereft,
weeping hard with troubled signs,
lone, desolate she was left,
walking midst overgrown vines,
Love memories she did hold,
reminiscing them, she’d soar,
but that day, gloom did enfold,
as tears continued to pour,
The graveyard was neglected,
hued leaves and branches lay there,
it made her more dejected,
the feel of death in the air,
She would clutch on to grim thoughts,
when she did inhale his scent,
her heart would tie up in knots,
that fragrance made her lament,
He was alive in her heart,
but felt so tangible here,
where his grave drove them apart,
but where she could grasp him near,
Losing herself in mind’s maze
with a sob, a gasp, she cried,
she wandered there in half-daze,
in recollections she’d glide,
To this day, she finds comfort
when she visits his graveyard,
tears would clasp her heart in hurt,
her love’s death has left her... s c a r r e d.
06.29.2021
For Constance La France's "Writing Prompt - Grasp" contest
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