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ShowerThe water beats down
Blistering my skin
As I watch, sobbing
As the dirt washes
fresh wounds and bruises
The water beats down
blistering my skin
hitting where bruises
had once been.
Wounds turned to scars
Its been 3 years today
The water beats down
blistering my skin.
I still see them
I scrub where
the bruises had been
5 years still havent
washed them away
The water beats down
10 years have past
as i wonder where he is.
If ill ever get back
what he stole.
I start to scrub again
The water beats down
As it has thousands
of times before,
yet I still look down
and feel like a whore
15 years later,
not an end in sight
I didnt want it.
So why does it haunt
me every night?
A life of fear and regret
A living death sentence
from a man I once met
A smile and blade,
are visions of that day
I was forced to lay
with a man i didnt love
the one who hurt me
and took so much
Investigations long over,
prices not yet paid
Make me long for the days
before I was raped.
Anchors so BlueWhen I close my eyes and start dreaming,
Everything starts seeming,
So very blue.
Blue for the tears I have shed for you,
Blue as the uniform on your back,
Blue as oceans that keep us worlds apart.
As blue as it gets,
This one thing I know is true
I will be for ever waiting for you.
For the day the blue sky smiles upon us
For the day I can look into your blue eyes
And tell you in person
I love you.
Though miles and waves may keep us apart,
Just know, you have anchored my heart.
And one day, and I know this to be true,
My dreams will be of a kinder blue
DriveNo matter how fast I drove I could never seem to get to the next mile marker. I blamed it on the ice and sleet, just playing tricks on me. As I pulled over to wait out the storm, a gust of wind hit me. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the lights. I zipped up my jacket and ran towards the accident knowing an ambulance would soon be on its way. That truck... it looked so familiar. As I slid down the embankment into the ditch I could see the police officers light. I as I tried to swing the door open it wouldn't move. I could see the person slumped against it. Frantic I tried to flag down the police officer to help me, but he ran right by, like he didn't see me at all. It was cold... so cold. As the ambulance pulled up I went and waited in my truck, hoping for the best for that poor girl. When I saw them pull the body bag out my worst fears had come true. I silently said a prayer as more vehicles arrived. It was my mom, and my dad... I ran out to explain everything but they wouldn'
fear and waitingYou walk, carrying on your everyday life
I see you, out of the corner of my eye,
Even thought we are miles apart.
That grin forever burned in my mind.
I can feel the flood.
I can feel the hatred, the regret, the shame.
I feel like panicking, or crying.
My insides are screaming for what I once was.
What I once had, and what you took from me.
I wasn't the first, and I know I wont be the last.
But I can wait.
I can wait until the day they know I was telling the truth.
Until the day you get caught.
When your world starts crashing down just like mine did.
Until you loose everything you've worked so hard for.
And that normal day feeling everyone should be entitled to.
I will relish the day, you are in handcuffs, and locked away.
Because then maybe you'll feel some of the fear I have,
Caged inside yourself, afraid to be near those around you.
I'll never forgive, I'll never forget
Field of HerosI walk among the crosses
Looking a the names, but not seeing them
I walk down the rows, and slowly those around me disapear
I see those I've known,
and those I've lost
I watch the battles play out
I watch the shipmates I've come to know
I see young men and women
Standing solomly behind their names,
A crisp salute from each, and a tear strolling down their face
I see their families pass by
And not even acknowledge them
The sorrow grows deeper the longer I walk
I wonder who these people could have been
And what they would say
If they could see the country they had died for
They arent remembered by most
Just another name on the list,
on this national bbq day.
It hits me harder then most I suppose
On this Memorial day
PathMy path is not one that many have known
I carry the scars and bruises to show,
Where I am, and where it is I plan to go.
I do not weep for the sorrows,
And I cry not for the mistakes,
For I know I am not done finding my own way.
I seek something greater then what people have shown,
I hope not to ignore whats around me,
But to know the fortunes the world truly holds.
I refuse to play my part that society gives to me.
I will find my own way, and all the answers that lay in-front of me.
So carry on with your judgements, and call me what you will.
But know that I am free from your burdens,
And you are stuck where you are, still, in a unforgiving moment.
DustHe watches the dust swirl around his boots
as he gazes out over his once fertile fields.
Slowly he turns to the trail of dust fallowing the old pick up.
Its his brother, coming home to family farm
In his hand is the notice,
Telling his family that 6 generations mean nothing any more.
The foreclosure paper work in hand,
Together they gaze out on their god forsaken land.
And wonder, what it will be like, being torn away from who they are.
Just another beat down, lost, hungry face, in the crowd of a nation.
pleaseEver since that plane took off things have been different.
My mom and I jump everytime the phone rings,
Shiver with fear everytime the door bell rings.
We wait paitently to receive a letter.
Just to know hes alive.
To know somewhere in the world, my dad is okay.
We cant know where he is,
Its to risky they say...
We wait to hear when he will be home,
When the war will end,
We know even when its over things will not be the same.
War changes people, but thats okay.
Because Daddy, I love you,
Please come home
Daddys sailorHe wishes that I died a hero, instead of coming home a victim.
He wishes I fought the war he never could, instead of getting discharged.
We dont speak. Theres no need. His actions say it all.
I wish he knew what really happened, instead of what his friends said online.
I wish I was his daughter again, instead of his failed sailor.
I'm sorry I was raped and scared, instead of being emtionless like you Dad.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Echoes we are like
in the middle
but not quite
what we truly
Tonight, I finished a roll of toilet paper
that I had started
a month, 8 days,
two hours, and 21 minutes ago.
Its genesis, June 11th,
one of the worst nights of my life,
I took a roll from my small bathroom,
and silently tucked it under my arm.
I couldn't let my girls know.
They couldn't know
I was going to use this as my broom.
They couldn't know
that I swept my shattered heart
under my bed.
And I wept.
My pillow taking my abuse,
my suffocation and my attacks.
My fingers squeezing it for dear life
and my knuckles as I punched it,
imagining it was her.
Then hugging it.
I only cried that hard
when I was about 6.
She was gone.
And so was I.
I cried every night
which would've marked
our 7-month anniversary.
And in the late days of that month,
I lied to myself.
And for that,
I regret every moment.
I wasn't ready.
At least I stopped it,
before we drowned each other
like the last woman.
Two weeks lat
FallenYears ago I put on my uniform and boarded that plane.
I left, as I saw my wife crying, and cradling her swollen stomach.
I wrote everday, holding her picture close.
I hope she is doing well, and that our child has grown well.
She doesn't know it, but just because I never came home doesnt mean I left her.
Every day, even though my body is forgotten I am with her.
I hope they find me soon, so she doesnt have to worry anymore.
I know its not how she wanted me to come home.
How she wanted her child to have to greet me, and say goodbye at the same time.
The shallow grave cannot contain the lonelyness or regret I have for leaving.
She knows I had to though... I heard duty calling me.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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