If I snatch
The sacred silence
Between the crystal drops
And the lotus
And fix with your
Soul-sanctifying lips-silence
Can't I unpeel
Peace from both
Perpetually
Like
Pearl-filled
Oyster-silence
Millions of meaning-filled
Maternal silence
Till
Lips and lotus
Linger longingly…!
If I snatch
The sacred silence
Between the crystal drops
And the lotus
And fix with your
Soul-sanctifying lips-silence
Can't I unpeel
Peace from both
Perpetually
Like
Pearl-filled
Oyster-silence
Millions of meaning-filled
Maternal silence
Till
Lips and lotus
Linger longingly…!
memory haunted her for forty years
feelings so real they held her down
pinned to a darkness
she was not aware of in the daylight
therapist suggested she unpeel her layers
suggested she let down her wall
suggested and suggested and suggested
she hated him more each week
she was forty-eight when she decided to walk back in time
to recall the feelings of that day, that hour,
to remember the face of her abusers
to forgive herself
for not saving herself
A stormy night
One where no one can sleep comfortably
She was half in and out of dream land
when she began walking the steps
to face that which she had buried when she was eight
As she approached the memories began to fly
They dissipated rapidly, no longer having a hold on her
I am my own best therapist, she said
She forgave herself and her child self smiled
Realizing for the first time it was not their blame at all.
the past (( collaboration ))
by~ Abbey Haigh
'The past gives me goosebumps,
to think about in detail,
not to hover over the pits like a feather,
but to burrow deep down into the cracks and the creases,
to unpeel the half healed wounds and to pour salt on the cuts that are red and angry'
by~ Poet Destroyer
The past imposes on my future,
of what is and could of been.
Strike them like a match,
and trap every old memory in the burning abyss.
Abuse every thought that triggers out the barrel of a gun in to my mind'
A collaboration with * Abbey Haigh
The past gives me goosebumps, to think about in detail, not to hover over the pits like a
feather, but to burrow deep down into the cracks and the creases, to unpeel the half healed
wounds and to pour salt on the cuts that are red and angry.
a smooth glow caresses the tender rotisserie coloured skin
magnificently blended with a smooth butter or margarine flavouring
tastes a bit extraordinary
a smell which locks the brain to the frame that licks
fast or slow
what ever she picks
can be enjoyed in any style
whether it be conservative or wild
memories put away in a secretive and seductive file
brought out when she needs someone to unpeel
unpeel all clothing from her curves
feeling uneasy
warmth moistens provocative nerves
tension high
tension low
tension extreme
tension blown
all gone
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