Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
I am not the slop on your dinner plate
Or the mud on the bottom of your shoes
I am not your dirty laundry that’s been sitting for three days
Nor am I the trash you pollute the earth with
I am not the dog that sits at your feet
I am not the scrapes in the trash bag either
I am not your personal bungee cord
That you can tug at when ever you want to
Nor am I made of stone
I am not your fire pit
You can’t just burn my emotions away
I am not your someday
I live the best I can in today
I am not your rag doll
Nor am I your voodoo doll
So stop cursing my life
I am not the cardboard box sitting at the doorstep
I don’t like to bottle up my feelings
I am not the nutrition fact on the can
Don’t ignore me
I am not your strength
You shouldn’t just assume that I’m strong willed
I am not your Polaroid camera
Stop making me capture negative thoughts
I am not your old record that eventually plays out
This “record” entitled “My Life” is infinite
I am not the lyric in your depressing songs
You shouldn’t enjoy depressing me either
I am not your grandfather clock in the living room
My pangolin never stops
I am not what you want me to be
I am what I want to be
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
I feel misplaced...
secured inside the gates of the Law.
Trying to justify my faults.
Wishing desperately to be cut from my confine.
Night falls...
"Light's Out"
The ward cozenages the blocks...
Pulling the cells shut...
It slams with my own shame.
Locking each one....
It's the key turning in the jam that scratches at my mind.
Lying on the mattress, I'm inhuman.
It's disconsolate.
With only a diminished reflection of light creeping itself in.
Almost like it sensed my pain...
Offering me that morsel of light, for hope.
After finally drifting off to sleep...
I am awaked by flashlights.
Radiating into the small rectangular shaped glass.
Oh how I wished, I had the strength to punch it out.
I would have cherished that glass.
Thanking it repeatedly for allow me to release my pain through my blood.
I needed a acquaintance...
Praying repetitively to receive one on God's behalf.
My anger was an understatement of rage.
They did not take, they stole, everything from me.
Causing me to feel bare within my own life.
But the one thing that was rightfully mine, they would never have.
My thoughts.
As they tried to pick at my faults through therapy sessions...
I felt overwhelming power.
No matter how much, how often they pried, my thoughts were mine.
All of mine. Only mine.
I hated the schedule.
Hated the structure.
Hated the guards.
Hated my life.
Freedom is not free!
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
She holds her hands close to her heart.
She feels the pain as her mere existence causes this.
It is a pain very acknowledgeable to her
As each spiteful word echoes through her ears, a thrust of emotion erupts from within.
Crawling into the corner postitioning her body in the fetal position, always brings about her the comfort she demands.
Hoping for ecceptance is all she's ever know.
Begging for love with every minute of her being.
Praying to God, her creator.
Wondering why she was created with such flaws...
After all, God has stated to have produced every being with love.
Although, he emotions are distinctly not love.
She is perpetually in a state of conspicuous mental confusion.
Trying to find her meaning within.
Trying to unbrace the knots within her heart.
Everything seems to be pessimistic...
Her eyes have now become dense.
Her body is frail.
That once beautiful face, that was displayed with complete confidence, is now pale in color exhibiting sorrow.
Images of disturbing flash backs continue to curse her mind.
Through all, still trying to hold on.
Still trying to breath.
Still trying to live.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
When His fingertips touch her skin.
She quivers with anticipation.
Hoping to be taken into that sub space she adores greatly.
He trails His fingertips slowly down her stomach.
Causing her to subconsciously flinch in delight.
Her nipples stand erect, as He reaches up and delivers a quick pinch,
Basking in such pleasureful pain.
As He looks into her eyes ....
Without a word
He knows she is silently begging for release.
Running His fingers gently within her thighs...
Lifting her hood up...
Her beautiful button of pleasure is in His entire view now.
Her bonds tighten, as she hang there trying to keep her balance.
Just the simple touch of rope brings her avid happiness.
This is her place in existence.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
This agoraphobia is destroying me.
Holding me back from what I truly want to do.
It likes to slither up when I eat.
Closing my throat so I can’t swallow.
I try to disregard it and push the food my reflex.
But I can feel the tension in my neck.
It’s impossible.
This anxiety is destroying me.
Restraining me from society.
Medicine is not America’s cure.
I can’t seem to find anything strong enough.
This anxiety is very much like a surprise guest
Popping in and out whenever it pleases.
This depression is destroying me.
Denying me happiness.
Stealing my beauty from me
By causing my eyes to dull
And my skin to pale to frightening whiteness
Just like suffocating
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
She has lost her hope.
Clasping her rosaries close in hand.
As the shadows begin to cast along her face.
She bows her head.
Taking particular note to the cross settled in her hands.
Her knuckles are bloody.
She must have fought for her spirit today.
Never remembering anything but this mere moment.
As the leaves swift through the field of green,
She envisions the angles descending from Heaven,
And howling about the winds …
Looking down to her shoes
Which only consist of rips and tares.
It is these that bring her back to this agonizing reality.
The winds have calmed.
The leaves still.
She takes one more look at the cross-draped in her hand.
And relates her pain to the nails beat into Jesus’ innocent body.
Hoping one day she will be whole, as He is.
Ave Maria.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
I Feel Your Pain Too
I know how it feels to be lost
Just to think, haven’t you walked this road times before?
I know how it feels to be alone
Walking without your friends this time.
You love to walk in the rain
Imagining that those very drops cleanse your soul.
I know what if feels like to be hurt
But your oh so used to those knifes piercing your lungs.
I know how it feels like to be darkened
The sunlight hurts your eyes
Must you lock yourself away?
In that place you find comfort in
If only the walls could talk
Do you think they would offer you happiness?
After all, they’re the only things shielding you from the cruel world.
Keeping you sane
As if they had eyes
Watching your every move
If only they had hearts
Offering you love, just like you’ve always wanted.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
She’s sitting alone.
Onto the hills of her hope.
Her long locks of beauty shielding her face from sunlight.
Causing her soul to darken.
Her eyes wondering to and fro.
But her heart is blind.
The dead razor sharp grass of this hill reminds her of the blade.
The blade the comforts her as she slides it mercifully across her bare skin, causing it to break.
As she pushes her hair away from her face she can imagine the pain in her expression as she feels her hot tears stream quickly off of her face.
Wiping this painful trail from her face…she stands.
“Like before” she thinks…
Just like before, she walks away.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
Nobody can help but notice her gleaming hazel eyes.
Whoever disagreed to their beauty is a fool.
She stands a mere 5 feet tall.
As her virgin body takes it’s womanly shape, her beauty becomes more conspicuous.
Although within her eyes, her innocents’ will be everlasting.
Leaving a smudge from her history.
Reminding her of her altering beauty into an extraordinary astonishing woman.
She is so beautiful
Molded flawlessly, after all she is a child of God.
Her smile is extraordinary.
It expresses her happiness.
She deserves her happiness.
Her accomplishments are noticeable to those who are privileged to be apart of her life.
And taken within them, wishing her even better success.
As if nothing is never enough.
Striving for the best in everything she tries.
Never letting her own personal trial and tribulations cause her distress.
She is an inspiration.
She is MY inspiration.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Marisa Carlucci Poem
The Angles are crying for you
The Angles are looking down
They think you’re a disgrace
You’ve made the Angles cry
The Angles observe you in their disguise
As you beat your children
The Angles pray for you to change
Only they don’t know that you wont
You’ve made the Angles cry
The Angles have hope for you
Even though you’re already tainted
Your children don’t need your comfort after you’ve calmed down.
They Angles comfort like you’ll never be able to
Your children don’t need you to wipe their tears
Which you made them cry….
The Angles wipe their tears away.
With more affection then you ever could.
The Angles don’t cry for you any longer.
For they have noticed you’re hate.
And allow the evilness of the fallen angles to continue with you.
The Angles cry joy this time
They have saved the children.
Copyright © Marisa Carlucci | Year Posted 2005
|