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Poetry, Part 7

5 min read

HOW TO BE A HERO


Do I avoid places of high crime

When children live there all of the time

Sometimes we must step out of our shell

If we wish to reverse the spread of hell


In the past I've gone down evil ways

but it's never too late to change, I say

If you want to be a hero you must first

go to the place, the hurting's the worst

If you want to do the most good

you must reconsider those misunderstood


If you want to heal an aching heart

you must find the source where the braking starts

the whole will be greater than sum of it's parts

But first our walls must come down

And find each other on common ground



DEMONS POLLUTING


I know the scars of history run so deep

even after the floggers have gone to forever sleep

and the the sensation of burnings lasts a long time

even when the flame has long gone by

And the feeling of anger never subsides

When no tears flo you're still crying inside


The end of the struggling road you never make

And the vicious cycle refuses to brake

It leaves you feeling desensitized

to self destructive demons you harbor inside


I don't understand why you do the things you do

shoot yourself in the foot, you do

and the feet of your mothers and brothers, too

after the storm of anger brings a hale

The following morning I found you in jail

Some call it the ghetto, some call it the hell

The place you were raised, the place you fell


I've seen you at your best.

I know what you can do

you can rise to meet the world if you want to

but that's hardly ever the side I see of you

the first thing you must do is find

a way to ride demons polluting your mind


I see you at your worst much more frequently.

you eye my approach suspiciously


you dream of better days

and you think I stand in your way

even though I have come to aid


put down your guns

put down your knives

and cease the fight

take my hand, I'll lead you out of the night

together we'll walk into the light


THE CORN OF THE RAIN


someday I won't have to fight for my next meal

and I won't be driven to beg and steal

Even when pain is the only thing I feel

I still believe there is a way to heal


Some say it's impossible to make a change

And that all my hopes and dreams are all in vein

In spite of it all… I keep believing… All the same.

I don't care when no is what they say

That kind of talk won't get me through the day


When the pains of hunger are in the past

and we will all live a life free at last.

Every pair of feet will have a pair of shoes

And no one will ever, by another, be used


Someday we'll leave behind a life of poverty

along with a broken society

Right now a dirty black is all they see

Someday no one will look down on me

An I can be anyone I want to be


Even when the world leaves me feeling sad

I know that good can arise from the bad

Remember that rain made the corn grow

I may not be smart, but this I know


I won't cry, no I won't cry

That day will come, I know it will

I just hope it does before I die


I'VE HEARD SOME PEOPLE SAY


You shouldn't go to a nation to which you don't belong

They say you can't fix a government that has done wrong

you can't feed a starving nation

you can can't education the next generation

You can't bring clean water to those who have none

you can't shelter those in the heat of the sun

you can't bring a smile to a tear stained face

you can't fix a society broken in the first place

it does no good to give a crutch to the lame

all your efforts are in vain


It's their own doings that left them lying in the dirt

and not our responsibility to stop their hurt


But I say nay…


The people reduced to skin and bones

are that way through no fault of their own

There are people with hopes and dreams

capable of thought and rationality

They could be anyone-- They could glow

But if they could, we'll know.

because everyday they must fight for their next meal

with no food or possessions, compelled to steal

because relief from the pain is all they want to feel


I am a person whom history have given all of the brakes

and far less of the cruel fates

and I don't think it's write to sit by triving

while others and struggles and others are dieing

If you are lernid you will find

they are the one's with a history that is not so kind


And you're right… it's true

the wrongs of the past we can't undo

but still today we can provide relief at last


Can fix a people who have been broken

will the lucky find it in their hearts to care

can a phoenix rise out of the ashes of despair
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Forward: Ok Here is a segment of a historical fiction/fantasy story I've been writing. It's about Voodoo magic, and Pirates and Rebels in the 18th century. My pirates and Voodooist do not act like the stereotype at all, however. Most of the time Voodooist are the villains in works of fiction, or minor characters  but here I have that role reversed for the hero of the story. Also my pirates act more like flamboyant 18th century French men.

  I am gonna give you a warning. This story is vary depressing, but it does have a happy ending. Also I am not making any statements about racism. Instead I am merely using a time in which racism was prevalent as a backdrop for my story. Also it's a fairly historically accurate portrayal of the time period. Now time fore the story...

***

Setting: Le Revenant Galleon, Port of Cape Francais, Saint Domingue 1726


    "Boy." Captain Julien Bellavance said to Obi. "I have had enough of your insubordination. I didn't want to have to do this, but I must."  

    The Captain was tall and slender, with wide shoulders and a strong, cleft chin. He was dressed in the manner of a French gentleman. The ostrich feather that bedecked his bicorn hat fluttered about by the ocean breeze. Obi, was a boy of fifteen, but he was small and scrawny enough to pass for a few years younger. They boy looked something of an anomaly, with mocha colored skin, but eyes as blue as cloudless sky in August. Captain Bellavance called out to the all the men aboard Le Revenant.

    "Crew! Bind the boy."  He said, with an extravagant gesture of his hand. They did exactly as they were commanded, they pulled out their sabers and flintlock pistols and closed in upon the boy from all directions. He looked around at them all not knowing where to go. He looked directly in front of him to see a man holding an iron collar and set of four shackles.

    "Cette merde? Stop! I am one of you, dammit! One of the crew!" Obi cried out. The crew continued their advance. He sized up the smallest looking man, who was still bigger then him, and charged towards him. Obi tackled into the man and shoved him aside.  Once out of the circle he made a mad dash to the end of the ship. Obi started to swing his leg of the the wooden rail when he was interrupted. Giant hand grabbed him and yanked him back aboard the ship. The men proceeded to apply all of the restraights. Obi trashed around wildly to keep them, off by in the end it was no use.

    "Please! I passed your initiation! I swore an oath. Let me go!" He cried. out.  Obi eyed the captain, who was standing outside the circle, watching. He had been told to keep the secret about his relation to the Bellavance or their would be repercussions, but the boy figured he had nothing to lose at this point.  

    "I don't understand! I am you're own son! How could you do this to me?" Obi called to the man. Immediately the crew aboard Le Revenant grew silent. At last the first mate, Emile broke the silence.

    "Is it true captain? Is this colored boy your son?" He asked.The authoritative captain turned slightly red in the ears.

    "Oh, don't listen to the poor fool. He's half starved. He doesn't know what he's saying. But none the less... I would like to have a private conversation with the boy. Dump him in the hold, then get out. All of you. Except you, Emile. You come with me." captain Bellavance commanded.

    The hold was very dark. The only things keeping it from being pitch black was the light that shone through the deck hatch above. It was filled with all manner of stolen goods. and vital pirate supplies. Obi, was huddled up in the corner, chained to the wall when the two men came into the hold. Bellavance approached the boy, pulled up an empty wooden crate, then sat down upon it. As the boy glanced up at the captain a flurry of confusion, pain and anger fought in a three way battle to dominate his mood.


    "You've been a bad boy. Don't you ever say anything about our relation again. There will be repercussions." The captain shook his finger at Obi, in the overly showy manner. The lacy cuff of his ruffled shirt made a similar motion as it his wrist. The boy took a lung in the captain, but quickly met the end of his chain, before he had covered any ground.

    "You can't do this to me! I am a free man!" He called out. The captain raised one eyebrow.  

    "First mate, hand me the Code Noir." He commanded. Emilie produced a book with a black cover. The captain proceeded to leave through it.

    "Ahh yes, it says here that a Frenchman who fathers a mulatto, a half negro, may either declare his offspring to be free or to be his slave… Do you see?" He trust the page towards the boy. Obi looked at the black text printed on white paper, but it was all just symbols to him. He stared at it, without comprehending, then looked back at his father.

    "No… What's that?" He asked.

    "Why, it's the law of the land. It govern's negros." He said, then snapped the book shut. "Oh, zut. I forgot, you can't read. Silly me." He said in a condescending tone, "Anyway, the point is, legally you are my slave."

    "But we are pirates… Since when do we follow the laws?" Emile pondered aloud.

    "Ahh, splitting hairs, splitter hairs... Shut up." The captain responded.  

    "You're fucking despicable…" The boy huffed. "Even by pirate standards! Go screw a cadaver!"

    "Aww. My slave thinks he can insult me. That's cute." Captain Bellavance pinched Obi's cheek. The boy jerked his head away, causing his chains to jingle.

    "Your actions will anger the Loa spirits." Obi huffed. Then he tried to crawl away, and gain some distance between himself and the captain, but the chain ensured he couldn't move very far. Bellavance snorted.

    "What are you talking about? Oh that's right, you negroes are into witchcraft or satanism or something." The captain mused.

    "No. It's Voodou. Get it right." The boy stated with a defensive tone. The captain stared incredulously at him for several seconds before bursting into laughter.

    "Whatever." He said. "If a colored boy, like you, knew a thing or two, you would have expected this. I mean, seriously. What did think was going to happen?"  "Well, then I must be off. I have captain's duties to attend to." He said, tossing a lock of his curly wig off his shoulder, and making a turn to leave the hold. Obi felt his heart sink to see the men go. He didn't want to left alone in the dark, no matter how despicable his company was.

    "Wait… Please!" He called out.

    "I thought..." Obi said, his voice cracking with emotion, "You would treat me differently… Because I am your son… I thought maybe you would… care about me, like a father." The captain looked at the boy and gave a sigh. He began pacing around the hold with his hand behind his back.  

    "Uhh… No. I have an image to maintain! I am supposed to be a hard bitten, hartless pirate, remember? But... it pains me to admit that daddy does feel a certain amount of… affection for his little half-blooded jungle bunny. That is why I am being so merciful and taking you as my slave. First off, you need captivity. If it weren't for us Europeans negroes would still would have been running naked in the jungle, living like an animals." He said.

    Obi was silent for a long while. He couldn't confirm or deny the things the captain told him about Africans. He didn't know anything about that far away land, because he had spent his whole life on the Island of Hispaniola. Then he remembered how some the maroon boys didn't even trust him, because to them, he had looked like a white man.

    "I'm not a Negro!" He called out. "Look at my eyes… They are blue. Have you ever seen a Negro with eyes like that before?" As sure as the sky is blue, his eyes gleamed like sapphires even in the dim light.

    Emile snorted. "Aww… The poor fool is in denial about his own identity. How sad." He said.

    "Listen, kid." His father said, "Even if your eyes are blue, one drop of black blood in you is all it takes to negate your civilized French heritage. And since you are my son I am giving you special treatment. Why, if you where any negro boy who just waltzed up and asked to join my pirate crew, I would have just taken you and sold you to the sugar cane plantation, on the spot. There they would have worked you to death in a few years. But no, I couldn't let such a fate happen to my son, which I why I am giving you the much kinder opportunity to be my slave on my fabulous ship, Le Revenant. You should be grateful." Obi just glared at the man long and hard before rolling his eyes.

    "Pfft. Mesi bokou." He said, sarcastically.

    "What did you just say?" The Captain asked. 

    "It's Creole..." Obi aswered.

    "Sounds like broken French to me. Anyway, I will personally guarantee not to work you too hard… But I won't guarantee that I will reserve the use of some… Corporal punishment if you act up. And if you continue act up too much, I might just change my mind and sell you to the sugar plantation after all, so you better be on your best behavior, son. Capiche?" The man smiled sweetly at Obi. The boy made a sharp intake of breath. He had seen the slaves that worked the sugar cane plantation. He saw how thin and frail they were. They looked akin to walking dead. A fear crept into his heart much greater than anything he felt before. To work on those plantations was a fate worse than death.  

    "This is the most fucked up kind of family drama I've ever had the misfortune to witness." The first mate mused.  

    "Emile…. I don't need you to critique my methods. Actually, you are dismissed, now." Bellavance said, with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

    "And do what?" the first mate asked.

    "I don't know. Go find a corner and masterbate, or something." The captain shrugged. Emile scoffed before disappearing to who knows where.

    "I don't understand… What about my mother? Who was she? How did you two…"  

    "Ahh, your mother, Anuli." The captain recanted. He halted his walk and leaned up against the walls of the hold, his hip cocked out in the manner of a an ancient roman statue. "I had a little extra Francs in the chest after a particularly bountiful hijacking. As a matter of fact it was this Galleon. I stole it from the Spanish military. But I digress. With the extra coinage I purchased a slave. She looked the strongest of the bunch, though having just endured the middle passage, that isn't saying much. She spoke not a word for French, but instead some African babble." He said.

    "It's called Igbo." Obi retorted defensively from his dark corner of the hold.  

    "Whatever. And she was a near skeleton, but I was a generous master, so I fattened her up, till she had a derriere plump and supple to the touch." The man said. He slipped his hand into his vest and let it rest on a button there, in the manner of a French gentleman.

    "I took her as my slave..." He continued ,"And for six months we sailed the caribbean waters together. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I pillaged ships during the night and during the rest of the night she filled with pleasure. And the thing about African women is, they walk around topless all the time. They don't even feel ashamed. And I saw her belly growing and suspected she was pregnant… but I never asked. And I never found out, because then, that little bailey rat ran away. I never saw her again, and that bitch broke my heart." A sudden realization hit the boy harder than a club to the face.

    "No…" Obi's words were getting progressively more and more choked up as he spoke. "She was your prisoner… That means I'm conceived of a… Rape." All the saturation drained out of his mocha colored skin. The captain shrugged, as though he had not thought about it that way before.

    "Well… She was my slave. Legally it was her duty to obey my every order." He said.  

    Obi lunged out of his position in the dark corner of the hold so fact the Captain felt a fist him in the face before he heard jingle of chains being disturbed. The man was knocked back out of Obi's reach. That didn't stop the boy from fighting his chain, trying  desperately to pull the captain into his punching rang again.

    "You monster! Death is too good for you!" The boy yelled. The captain stood up, and took a few steps back from Obi, dusting off his white knee breeches. Then he brought his hand up to his lip to find it was bleeding.

    "Oh my… That's going to leave a mark on my beautiful face!  You will pay for that!" He told the boy. "Crew!" The captain called out. There was the sound of many footsteps as several men entered the hold. "Discipline the boy."

***

    Obi could not recall the actual events that caused him to ache all over. He had a vague idea of where he was, but the memory was fuzzy. He tried to catch it, and analyze thought more closely, but it slipped away, like water escapes from a sive. Then he could no longer remember what he was thinking about. It must have been a dream... No. A nightmare. He thought to himself. Gradually he drifted back into consciousness.

    The first thing he became aware of was the pain.  There was the pain at his wrists and ankles. Something was cutting off his circulation, making his hands feel like they were covered in marching ants that had little needles for feet. Then there was the sharp pain in his nose. It pulsed with pain from every heartbeat. He was sure it was broken. Then there was a sick feeling in his stomach. Despite the fact he had not eaten all day, Obi felt like he was going to throw up. He was not sure if this feeling was from the physical pain, or from the anger he also felt. He blood was boiling like it had never before. He could not even begin to describe in words the amount of hatred he felt at that moment, though he could not remember why.

    Obi tried to move. There was a jingle as his iron chains became disturbed. Then a sharp pain shot through his back. It was too great to bear. He stopped and let his entire rest on a hard surface. What was it? A wooden floor.

    He had no idea how long he had been out. Only that it must have been a long time, by how dry his throat felt. It was night now. No more sunlight could be seen shining through the cracks of the deck hatch. In the darkness of the hold the only thing that gave any hint of the passage of time, was the rocking of the boat, and the creaking of the wooden walls that surrounded Obi. The Caribbean climate insured that it was too hot, even in the shade. Blow the deck, where the ocean breeze could not be felt, it was even hotter. Flies buzzed around him, landing to lap up his sweat and blood. Obi ignored them, for they were the least of his worries. Then at last the memories of where he was came flooding back to him.

    I am so stupid. Why did I think they would have accepted me on the pirate ship? I am mulatto. Why did I think they would accept me at all? I should have just stayed with the maroons, like the oracle said. I should have been grateful for what I had… Because now it's gone.

    In the dark the boy could just barely see his blood rolling over the wooden floor, sinking into and staining it burgandy red. Like paint. He thought. Then an idea occurred to him.

     He sat up, and cupped his hands under his nose, allowing the blood to fill them up. Then he used his finger to paint  the Veve of Damballah upon the ground. He started with the cross staff, then the banner, and at last the two serpents. "Oh… Damballah… Please accept my offering… My blood is all I have." A glow filled the room, then a blinding light, followed by a gust of wind. The Veve of Damballah burst into flame. Obi Shielded his eyes. When at last he uncovered them he saw his god. Damballah was part man, and part snake, made of fire, flaming before him. The boy bowed his head down to the god, the chain jingled as it hit the wooded flood.

     "Damballah. I've suffered half past madness, and I can't bare to suffer anymore. I humbly request you take my soul. Please let me join my long and forgotten ancestors." The god lowered himself to be head level to Obi. He took the boy's head in his hand and tilted it up to look at him. Even though the gods hands were made of fire, they did not burn.

     "Obi Ekena Bellavance… You are only a boy of 15, with a whole life ahead of you, and yet you ask to leave your mortal body behind already." The god said.

    "I-I… I should have never been born… You can't find a more messed up origin story than mine… conceived of a rape… And I am mule… part black… part white. There is no place for me in this world. Is there even a place for my soul in the land of ancencers… Africa?  And even worse still, my life has been stolen from me…" He said, and raised his hands to show the god his iron cuffs. "Like a zombie… I am alive, but I am not living."

    There was no point in holding back tears now. Obi had nothing to lose. He began to sob. They were great, heaving gasps like he had never heard himself make before. He lowered his head to the ground, so the god could not see his face.

    "You are not a mule. Obi, it doesn't matter how cruel or unfair the circumstances of your birth where. Sometimes the good can arise from the bad. Remember… The rain made the corn grow."

    There was the knock of a boot heels hitting wood. "Here, little mule. The captain told me to feed you. He was worried you might die or something. That would be awful. Then who would swab the deck? I have moldy sea biscuits and algae water." Came the sound of Emile's approaching voice.

    "Where are… What the hell?"  The man caught a glimpse of the god before he vanished. Emile just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the place the god had been. Obi to this moment to relocate himself. He moved so gingerly even his iron chains did not make a sound, and hid behind the empty wooden crate the captain had left their earlier. The the man looked around the room, he didn't see Obi, but he did see the Veve of Damballah. Emile circled around it, trying to figure out what it was, then he realized it was painted in blood, and gasped.  

    "Witchcraft! Satanism! The ship is cursed!"

    The man turned to run, but was stopped short. Obi made a lunge for the man and wrapped the cail that help his wrists together around the man's throat.

    "No, it's Voo-" Then the boy stopped, and got an idea. "I mean, that's right. The shit… I mean ship, is cursed. Everyone aboard will die at sea tonight. It's only a matter of…" Before Obi could finish the Man went limp in his hands. Apparently he had fainted.  

    "Pfft. I wasn't holding you that tight." Obi said. He dropped Emile, letting the man flop to the ground. Then he frisked the unconscious man to find… Keys! After unlocking himself of his binds, and made sure to put them of Emile instead. He heard the man stir awake. He moaned. Before Emile knew was was going on. Obi yanked off the man's own stocking and used it as a gage. He gave out a muffled cry for help.

    "Nice try." Obi said. Then he started going through every crate in the hold. Emile can a made muffled noise.

    "Yyy cnnnt dd hhhh!"

    "Uh huh. That's what I said when you guys tried to chain me up." Obi replied. He pulled a bottle of rum out of the crate and took a sip. "Bondye bon! Liberty never tasted so sweet."  He took another drink, feeling the aches in his body subside a tiny bit. The boy started to take a third drink then he stopped and turned the bottle over, dumping the rest of the liquid on the floor. "But as sweet as it tastes I can't drink this... Because I know this rum is made with blood and suffering. It's made with the sugar cane harvested by slaves." He didn't throw away the empty bottle however. I can trap a soul in a bottle like this. He thought. Obi slipped it in his pocket. In the next crate he found a wheel of Camembert Cheese, which he made short work of. "Oh… I think I am in heaven." He said.

    "Drrry  nggr, slllng ffffd." Spoke Emile, who was still bound and gagged. Obi glared at him.

    "Hey, man. Don't judge me. Yeah maybe I am dirty and maybe I steal, but did you ever stop to ask yourself what you would do in my position? It's so easy to look down on the people of the world when you are sitting up on a golden throne." He pulled a brand new machete out of one of the crates, then ran his finger gingerly along the blade. They must have been shipped to Saint Domingue to be used in the sugar cane fields. Then the boy approached Emile, still bound on the ground and gave a devious grin the revealed a broken tooth.

    "Did you know there is an old custom in Africa? It involved one of these, and hacking your enemy to pieces… I fully embrace my African heritage." He said, still grinning  All the color drained out of Emile's face. His white knee breached turned damp in the crotch area. Obi rolled his eyes, then sheathed the machete.

    In another crate he found a brand new blue frock coat with gold trim and a matching bicorn hat.

    "How do I look?" He asked Emile, putting on the outfit. "Like a gentleman? Like a Bourgeoisie? How about a ship's captain?"

    "scrry" Came the muffled voice of Emile.

    "You think I look scary? Even better." He gave his broken toothed grin again. "Sorry to tie you up and leave, but I got to go. There is a pirate raid that needs canceling." Obi gave Emile a wink, before heading out of the hold.  


    To be continued...


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Poetry, Part 6

5 min read

The Worst Ones

I only like the worst ones for me

Those lacking in sanity

The ones that won't behave

Are the ones I crave


No matter if you're a basket case

And your wires aren't all soldered into place

As long as you have a pretty face

So what if your dendrites don't all connect

To me you are still completely perfect

Maybe mentally you're going wrong

But your disorder turns me on

I only want a toxic relationship

Of your poison, give me more than a sip


I crush on villains in the movies

Not the heros that would behoove me

If moral your compass north points south

I'll bring your lips close to my mouth

I love to get ordered around

And my self esteem beaten down

If I bite into a rotten core

I will be back, begging for more

Sugar is not what I want from you

Cook me up a vat of poison brew

Your soul may be black as night

And my own is hospital white

But that's a difference we can overcome

If the game is easy then it isn't fun

However many times you make me cry

I'll still think you're one hell of a guy


If you're a good boy you can go away

But if you've got issues then, please come in and stay

I know my complex is hard to understand

But how can I find myself a normal man

That isn't bland, bland bland


We'll Get There


This is the new world, with new hopes and dreams

It's a new generation-- tolerance is the theme

When children tend wounds their ancestors made

To children of slaves, with every reason to hate

When "You are forgiven" is what they say

It's not perfect. That's not what I mean

But seeing the things that I have seen

I know we've come so far, and I wonder how

I've never believed more in man, than I do right now


I won't think Trayvon is to blame

Just because he has an AAVE name

And I am humbled to tears

When I see how much kinder we've grown over the years

When the white can love the black

And the black love the white back

I speak with all my heart when I say "I do"

And I know I am not alone, nor one of the few


Some don't understand the love that we share

let's give them a moment-- they'll get there

So even when the Arab hates the Jew

And even when the Tutsi hates the Hutu

Things might get worse before they better

But we'll get through it if we stand together

Of being wrong I am not afraid

because of all the progress we've already made

Even when bullets fly through the air

I say, never stop loving, 'cuz we'll all get there



Perfection


deep down I do believe

that perfection is impossible to achieve

but that won't stop me from trying

and when I don't make it, I'll end up crying

in the mirror I don't see

the person I think I should be

can I learn to accept me for me

and not feel self loathing constantly


Pretty Girl


Often I get stopped on the street

A pretty girl is all they  see

do they actually know who is the real me?

Do they value my complexity?

So I'll shrug them off

I'm looking for someone who knows who am

and when I talk they understand



Everything I Want to Say


I'm sorry that my note is long

I know I write so much

This is my quest with words

find another soul to touch

I could have edited the lines

If, a free moment, I could find

There isn't enough time in the day

to say everything I want to say

Thought I'm quite almost all of the time

I have so many stories locked away inside

You see, I have so many thoughts that I find

no amount of words, in full, actually describe

No matter how much I write

No matter how fast

Can I tell them all before the day I meet is my last

And if I never write another poem or a post

maybe my words will live on, at least I hope

when I get a chance, the most I will make

before time, like water in a siv, escapes

No words are meaningless

No time spent on them is a waste

and writing is too much an art to rush, or make haste

No matter how much love a writer puts into her words

no matter how many ears, by which, they are herd

writing is only as real as readers pretend

I can only hope it will be well received

when off into the worlds, my words, I send.


Haitian Mulatto


Mulatto is the name they call me

And know one knows how much it pains me

An no one knows why it hurts

Or that I hide a brass collar under my shirt


My prison is the place I call home

The only one I've ever known

some toxic confusion of love and abuse

and I've never been welcome without a use

How should I know how to behave?

when my father is a master and my mother, a slave

How can I know what's right or wrong?

or know where I belong?

The work is hard and the days are long

LIfe can be an unbearable hell

Many did not stand after they fell


Now I am free

But it did not come without a fee

I cannot stop the blood that flows

From all the wounds, from all the blows

These scars will take many lifetimes to heal

and sometimes I think pain is all that I feel

Will I ever be a person, whole?

I guess no one will ever know

But even in the worst of times

a reason to smile, I can still find



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    "Who is in this picture?" asked the doctor. He held up a my wedding picture.

    "That's my Husband." I said.

    "Who is that in the room?" he asked, motioning over to a man sitting in the chair next to me. I looked over. He looked almost exactly like my husband in every way, but I didn't get the familiar sense of warmth and comfort from his image.

    "I don't know." I mumbled, realizing how crazy I must sound.

    "I see." He said "Well, I can tell you that he is in fact your husband and you are suffering from Capgras Delusion. A symptom associated with Paranoid Schizophrenia. Do you understand?"

    "Er..." I intoned.

    "Repeat after me." Spoke the doctor, "That is my husband."

    "That is my... Husband." I echoed.

    "Now do you understand?" He asked. I reluctantly nodded.

    "Ok. Risperidone." He said, "Take one 4 mg tablet orally every day. Also I want you to come in for an hour every week for cognitive therapy."

    An image flashed in my head. Little ovular green capsules. I knew what Risperidone looked like, because I worked in a pharmacy years ago, but I never imagined I would need to see them for any other reason.

    "Right." I said.


    That night I was in the living room huddled up on the couch. The man that looked like my husband came in and set a pill on the coffee table, along with a glass of ice tea.  

    "You didn't tell them." I said.

    "Tell them what?" He asked.

    "About how I came after you with a butcher knife." I spoke, "Why?"

    "You didn't tell them either." He responded.

    "But I should have. I was- I was... scared."

"It's whatever." he said, with a wave of his hand.

    "No it's not whatever! I'm really sorry. You must hate me. I can't even imagine."  

    "It's ok. I understand you are ill and not responsible for your actions in this state."

    He put his arms around me and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. It felt like being touched by a stranger. I pushed him away.

    "The medication will help" he said.

    "No. It won't." I said.

    "Why not? You believe I am your husband now, don't you?" he asked. I bit my life and turned away. How could I bring myself to tell him no?

    "I can't stay here. I don't trust myself. I'm gonna call them back and tell them I need to stay in a  hospital." I said, pulling a cell phone out of my pocket.

    "Don't do that." He said, putting his hand on mine to stop me.  

    "I'm gonna do it anyway." I responded, getting up off the couch and moving away.

    "No your not." He said, following me.

    "What?" I asked, taken aback.

    "You are ill. I have the better judgement, and I am telling you no."

    "I'll let the doctors decide that." I said, and started to diel.  My supposed husband then snatched the phone from my hand. It fell to the floor. The screen shatters on impact. The back of the cell phone, battery and sim card went flying out, scattering in all directions.

    "No you won't." He said, firmly. I gave him a long, hard look.

    "Ok... Ok.  you're right. I don't need any help. Because my real husband would never ever do that. I am going the police and you can't stop me." I said, and started to walk towards the outside door.  He stepped in my way.

    "Dear, you are obviously not in your right mind, so why don't you just calm down and take your meds." He said, motioning to the coffee table. I looked down at the pills. They were little white, perfectly circular cylinders.

    "Go on." He said.

    "This isn't the medicine I'm supposed to take." I said.

    "Yes it is." He insisted.  

    "No. The doctor said Risperidone. These pills are different. These pills are... Rohypnol." I murmured. Could it really be? My supposed husband was trying to knock me out with sleep aids. He was an imposter after all.

    I grabbed the glass of tea and threw the water in her face. He flinched, which gave me enough time to go. In the bedroom there was a gun case-- a locked safe. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the case. Inside the safe was... was empty! I turned back to head out. The impostor  was there at the entrance, smiling.

"You're so silly." he said, "I'm not going to steal somebody's husband while they have access to weapons. Now stay in here. Good girl."

The impostor shut the door and locked it.
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Poetry, Part 5

10 min read

I DON'T KNOW WHY


I am the story's hero and I don't know why

If I had a say I'd pick someone more qualified

but I've been truth into this place of turmoil

and I'm just here, caught in the middle


The sky's the limit and I don't know why

and I wonder what's beyond every day the sun goes by

but I guess I'm a dreamer of things that could never be

faulty intuition in a world of rationality


So long I've taken for granted the things we know

even more ignorant am I of the things we don't

and the stuff we do lays on a ground composed

of guesses and speculation that supports our tip-toes


and just because we deserve it doesn't mean that it's fair

And if no one had told me would I even know it's there

sometimes it's hard to tell the sky is blue


Just because it won't make sense doesn't mean it's not true

and some days the stars will redshift out of view

because space is rushing increasingly outbound

the secrets of the past will erode so they can never be found


just because we can't see it may not mean it's not real

and just because it's there doesn't mean it's something we can feel.

everyday we wait, and and I don't know why

the chance of our espace passes us by

and so the limit will always be the sky


ALONE IS ALL I WANT TO BE

 

I know there must be something wrong with me

as I withdraw from society

but I just can't help myself

it doesn't matter what is said

the thought of socializing fills me with dread

I've spoke to a person once or twice

and it really wasn't that nice

people are so hard to understand

some hate you and others love you

some want to hurt your or want to fuck you

I want so badly to be alone

and when there is a ring from the phone

even if the caller wants to know if I'm ok

It's too hard for me to answer today

and when I'm around any others

it feels as though I'm being smothered

they block out the thoughts

and ties my mind into knots

I don't feel joy from the company

from other members of humanity

that is why you see

alone is all I want to be

 

FOR A GOOD CAUSE

 

You are a fierce warrior--so act the part

dispose of some-- or most of your heart

You see

Some people can't be reasoned with

it's sad, but true

we aren't proud of it

but we do what we have to do

so You better get used to the blood spilln'

because we are in the business of killn'

you may not be able to defend this land

not everyone has what it takes, we understand

I get that not everyone is brave and strong

so just leave the day saving to us

and go home where you belong

you mom my cry because her son is a loser

but not as much as she will when she's burning you, sir.

You must have a heart as cold and hard as stone

and insure, to the enemy, no mercy is shown

empathy may be a virtue in your little home

but it's a vice around here

but when the moment is right

and you hesitate to take a life

Your foes won't be so forgiving

but once you have put away your moral misgivings

You'll find the sensation is quite liberating

You can't afford to be squeamish

but it's quite alright to be fiendish

because no one is gonna tell you to behave

when you are the one holding the blade

you don't need to earn their love, only their respect

some people hail to those with charm or with funds

but everyone bows to the guy with the biggest guns

All the men-- we'll take their lives

and all the women? We'll make them wives

All the children? We'll leave them there

but hold any feelings of despair

when we come home there will be applause

Because, after all

it's all for a good cause

 

Heliades: The Tale of a Lonely Satellite

 

you'd think I feel so free

floating in microgravity

with no wind to resist me

but I have only stars

to keep me company

don't get me wrong

the stars are nice

we've never fought

not once, or twice

but I feel so alone instead

fighting to keep these thoughts from my head

What if I were to fall

down upon this blue ball

and land upon the ground

would it make a sound?

I can see people from here

they are so far

but look so near

the ones at work

the ones at play

one upon a bike

if I met one-- what's it like?

does anyone feel just like me

does anyone speak in poetry

what's it like to have a friend

or one, to whom, my love ,can be sent

but even as I fail to keep

the tears at bay, from my cheeks

I must do as my orders say

and among the stars I must stay

all alone in the void of space

 

Vanishing Point

 

far away there is a mountain range cast blue

colored by the air that lays between me and you

I watch as it vanishes from view

the image grows fainter by the mile

and my soul grows tender all the while.

above the clouds the mountains rest

as I try and shrug this feeling off my chest

our time has come and gone, and will never come again

despite all our drama I still feel a twinge of pain

if my logic is sound

as the Earth is round

then the mountains should sink below

and with it, the memories will go

all the bad times I will forget, with the good times, too

and I can start a life, on a mountain, new

 

ACCOLADE

 

I am not really here

I tell myself with fake conviction

all of this is a fiction

my body isn't aching

that is a fabrication of my making

if I wanted to I could step through the bars

there is no ceiling above my head

but a vista of the stars

I could return to my warm and comfy bed

with my family safe and sound a waiting

there is not a single soul I know

who thinks about me, hating

this pain isn't real

there it goes-- it's fading

in my bed I have a lover

loyal to no other

waiting for my embrace

a flawless smile upon their face

by in the court I have been seen

I am there, with the queen

she has bestowed on me an accolade

for all the contributions I have made

I am a gallant knight

with so many more battles to fight

and the crowds look up to me

as someone they all want to be

I will continue to say

the time on my deathbed for me to lay

is not here and today

young, heartbroken and afraid

but as much as I try

I cannot convince myself with the lies

 

Could Have Been

 

The greatest girl I've ever known

wasn't deft or fit or wise

but she had a heart deeper than one can dive

and a minde more open than the sky

as humble as the moss at the feet

of a dawn redwood tree

and determination more strong

than the years are long

and she passed on

without the world having seen

how great she could have been

 

Cold and Damp

 

I cannot hold back the tears

everything is coming true

all of my woes and fears

strength I cannot fake

if they herd they all would wake

that is why I leave at night

Somewhere they can't hear me cry

and I wait for morning light

in the cold and damp outside

and then from the world I can hide

how vulnerable I am inside

 

Master of Me

 

Any moment now he'll come through that door

to the things he's done before

And I can't take it anymore

No help will come from gods above

prince charming never was

What I have instead is a man

who insists I obey all his demands

I've been waiting long enough to see

that no shining knight will save me

Those things only happen in a dream

in fairytales and fantasies

I've never seen a hero before

outside of legends and of lore

maybe I look like a fragile flower

just a princess locked up in a tower

but despite this gown and lace

I'm much more than a pretty face

I refuse to wait

for someone else to choose my fate

Now is not the time to hesitate

The only have myself to trust

in the face of his lust

I will use force, if I must

whatever it takes

I won't brake

I'll be

the master of me

and usurp his tyranny

 

THE ILLUSION OF LOVE

 

I see the lies behind the love

instincts, all it ever was

no divine light from above

despite what they say

the stars won't foretell your day

no either in the space between

what I say is what I mean

there is no spell to cast

to make true devotion ever last

bhinde the charm, no latin chant

deny my doubts I honestly can't

monsters don't live in the deep

no phantoms in the shows creep

a horse can never fly

a god doesn't dwell in the sky

the sun won't circumvent the earth

no soul arises from a birth

If you look, you can see

chems and wires and circuitry

there was never any magic here

as I dodged the lusty leers

away from the madness I try and steer

and yet I'm still a victim of

the illusion of love

 

DRAMA

 

Drama, Drama go away

Come again no other day

I can't stand this affliction

Let struggle, pain and strife stay in fiction

 

Everywhere I go I finde

drama had been tailing me all this time

even when he said he'd go-- he lied

even when I try and hide

an unwelcome guest in my house

if I were a scalp, he'd be a lause

with a bite he makes me bleed

so that his appetite he can feed

and when I lock the doors tight

and turn out all the lights

somehow he still slips inside

when I'm sleeping in the night

no matter how hard I fight

No matter where drama I send

he always comes back again

to torture me another day

to ruin all the games I play

to use up my short life

but in my hand I have knife

and If he doesn't heed my "No!"

then he will have to suffer the blow

the next time that comes around

I'll slit his throat without a sound

his body will lay in a lifeless mound

and happiness, at last, I will have found

 

Armour Clad (v2)

 

Though you may not understand

this language of another land

our differences let's put aside

to your ears I will confide

 

we come from opposite sides

kept asunder by the tides

you have cause to be afraid

I in mail and you in chains

I know what they might do

after the hour's sand runs through

a tragic end will come for you

but if I had a say

no harm would ever come your way

because this blade at my side

is just a part of a guise

hiding the fragility inside

 

as a soldier I've been trained

but none of that will ever change

the boy that was their from the start

and all the armor in the world

won't toughen my heart

 

honor the code unto death

fight until my last breath

no matter the beliefs I hold

That's the only choice I've got

or so I've been told

 

There is a penalty

for one who lacks faith and loyalty

If in my virtues I was confident

then I would not weep

and if I could bring myself to believe

then at night I would sleep

 

but I won't deny

That I'm questioning why

I can't put aside my blunder

nor halt my wonder

if the possibility we both come out fine

can exist outside my mind

 

I could stop it if I dared

but the thought renders me scared

It would be a sacrifice

of my rep, my home, my life

 

should I do what I think is right

and set you loose into the night?

or should my orders I follow

faking that i'm callous, blank and hollow

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Featured

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