...............
(image from fiestapinata.com)
.........
Hung low
upon the strongest branch
of your oak tree,
I allowed my own slaughter,
our blindfolded children
you and that other woman
so kindly raised to master
use of your verbal machetes,
you spun them
'round and 'round with twisted truths,
cunningly directed them for many years,
by your pathetic, hopeless fears,
with skillful cowardice,
weilding their innocence
to carve the gashes just so,
slicing me open,
like a party pinata
at a reunion,
you.
and your sick family,
you always used to say
how much you hated being
outnumbered by women
growing up,
i hang lifeless now
in their eyes,
from the butchering,
the tree branches curved,
and the leaves withered,
and as my blood drips down
to feed your roots,
the only scintilla
of honesty you seem to
be able to muster from all those years,
--that you have not changed at all,
and for myself,
my once empty hand is full of
what is left,
--only compassion for you,
feeling what it must be like
to be you,
and who i was
long ago.
2:34 AM 8/13/2013 ©
................
I'd love to write a poem of hate right now,
But hate only brings the same,
I'd love to tear the walls down,
And paint everything black,
My soul is crying out with rage
Like an animalistic scavenger,
Seeking the blood to tear the guts
From the bellies of demons who created this disaster.
And inner peace speaks softly
All the while beyond this fury,
I cry not only for the anger,
But I cry because of this beauty,
A spark that's lived within the thrawls
And clutches of such untold deceit,
I'm weak as a lamb and fall down in mercy
...and bow to love's defeat.
7:45 PM 4/17/2013 ©