My detective father
told me my identity
was in my finger prints
so i gazed  upon my finger tips
with no explanation
I pointed to a friend
who said he knew
me
like the back of  his hand
as he caressed my palm
tracing the lines of the future
I asked if he could tell me something
about my finger tips
he said they were stubby
and dropped my hand
I collected this information
without taking a stand
He doesn't know me at all
My detective father
told me lies
conceal the truth
so why bother?
I lied for twenty seven days
I figured
no one would pay attention
did I mention
I carved the mayan  calendar
yes
my fingers
shaped the future
my essence
On display
tapping my fingers
against the pavement
corrupted Earth
no one knows me from a hand shake
tho they've touched my identity
so when looking at your finger tips
remember it takes so much more
to know who your gonna be

I don't believe in God.

I believe in dark skinned girls
That scream Leviticus at the two
Teenagers on my second bus home.

I believe in my mother heaving
Her woes while my father
Tells me to change the channel and
Stop being so bad at life, as though
Theres a syllabus I never studied which
Teaches you that the expensive apples
Are the sweetest and the 60c ones
Will leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

I believe that you can be bad at math
But good at physics because you know
That a stone thrown from x will weigh c
And therefore get to y within k amount
Of time.
Y being you and c being me, naturally.

I believe that chewing on foil is bad
For your mouth but is a stress reliever
For all the times that your work has
Been ripped up and then thrown
Back at your face, as if symbolising
Your entire eduction.

I believe that there is a light at the
End of this tunnel but you've got to
Hold my hand while we feel the walls
For a switch.

Click.

His mother abandon him.
Wasn't aware if his father  knew of him.
And many questioned, why a child's cried?

He see children's of his age laugh.
But in his eyes you see him depressed.
He pretend to be.
While he far from happy.
And a child cried.
Lingering for his mother's love.

He never knew her.
Mostly made up images of her.
Least when others asked him about her.
And a child cried.
Releasing the hurt he holds inside.

People speculate on his reasons.
Or states he's in need of medication.
But doesn't that says something about all of us.
As a child cried.

While hoping for a life of happiness.

I’m scared.
Cold, alone......... scared.
My body aches from fighting.
I won, but at what cost?
Revenge shouldn’t be the answer.
They took her life, my true love.
I’m crying, crying like I’ve never cried before.
A life for a life, but at what cost?
I became the person, I set out to destroy.
I’m a monster, a creation the devil himself devised.
I’m scared.
I’m alone, cold, and nothing to cling on to.
I have nothing........ nothing.
There’s only one thing for me to do.
I’m picking up my choice of death.
Goodbye monster.
You’ve done the most evil thing imaginable.
It’s time for you to go.
I’m taking you with me, back to where you came from.
Forgive me Father, for what I’m about to do.
I’ll see you in a few seconds.
Five....... My heart is beating fast.
Four........ Sweat is covering my face.
Three........ My heart is beating faster.
Two........ Hello love, good to see you again.



One........ Goodbye.

“BANG!!!!!”

I was told I was being mean
For writing what I do not understand
I understand more than you think
Hmmm If I have offended you in anyway
I do apologies
But yeah
I was beyond caring what anyone thought at one stage
How many times did I try to kill myself?
Rape is one thing a person wants to forget
Don’t care how
You just want to get rid of all the memories
Then putting myself in stupid situations where I opened myself up to more....rapes
Getting drunk...waking up in strange rooms...gang rapes...it goes on
Not knowing where I was or what happened
Then remembering everything
Forever being a victim
I got sick of it
I was doing it to myself simple because I wanted to forget
Drinking...drugs...it won’t help you forget it’s just there
You have to live with it
I’m a 50 year old mother with an 18 year old boy
Because of what happened to me
I was protective of my boy
Even his father was raped
So its possible males can get raped too
When I looked in to my boy’s eyes as he was growing up
They were innocent
As a victim you can see the signs
Thank God he didn’t have any signs of being raped
You don’t see that innocence in a victim’s eye
A lot of my poems are about rape
From the victims point of view
Yeah I am being mean
I suppose in way
But then if I am
It’s because many times in my life yes I have wanted to die
I have wanted to take my life
But I suppose I was too chicken too
I’d rather live and be alive
Even though I still remember every single detail of being
Raped...humiliated....degradation…kicked around and beaten
So if that’s not knowing anything, then I don’t know what is
Once again I would like to apologies to you if I have offended you in anyway
It was not my intention
But I stand by what I say
You get past all of that...pain.... anger.... hatred
Feeling like no one cares
Or ever will
But you can never forget the horror of what did happened to you
It lives with you forever...
It becomes a part of your life..
Still get flash’s
That’s the worst part of all this
Remembering what happened.
And one more thing
If I refer to anyone as a fool when in pain
Then I must be the biggest fool in the world
©Kaila George 2013

I spoke to a wasp today. And he told me his story. He spoke to me about his childhood, and watching his own family being murdered. It was a bright and warm Friday evening. His father had ventured out and flew among the humans that lived in the home of his home. The smell of liquor permeated the air, as did the barbeque that was nearly too done. He drew close to the man of the home, just to watch and observe the scene. The man didn't like it too much. So he swatted him. It didn't hurt him, however, but it did confuse him. And in his confusion he landed upon the man and planted his stinger within him. The man slammed his hand down, cursing as the wasp's father's guts bled out. There was nothing the wasp could do but watch. The woman of the house asked if the man was ok. The man cursed once more and slammed his glass on the ground. The woman became upset and demanded to know why. The man had no answer. He merely just grabbed a gas can, took another ...swig of liquor, and walked up to the wasp's home and began dousing it in gasoline. The woman freaked out, afraid of what was about to happen. The man merely cursed at her as well and shoved her to the ground. When she tried to get back up he kicked her in the face. The blood poured. The wasp's home was now soaked in a lethal liquid. The man had a sinister grin as he glanced at his crying and bleeding woman lying on the ground, and he laughed as he lit a match and threw it on the wasp home. The nest went up in flames, and shortly after the home of the man did too. The little wasp escaped, unable to save the lives of his screaming family being burnt alive. The man merely laughed; the woman lay crying; the nest burnt to ashes; the house burnt down. So now the little wasp is all grown up. And when I asked what he wants to do with his life, all he replied was, "I want to sting people...because it seems that is all every creature is meant to do." ♥

if you make a concrete judgement of somebody without fully getting to understand them, that's a sign of stupidity, and that's what she did to me

and my family, without even knowing my mother and father, she didn't even bother

to recall why she'd often dismiss, them as just religious, freaks who took care of their kids, and didn't get divorced, stayed together through the weather

she claimed they only did it cuz of the kids, but they're out of the house now, and my parents are still together and in love

what she couldn't find, within our family, and her simple mind, is that they would have loved her too, if she would've accepted them, or got to know them, or had a talk, or just listened, but instead, she placed them in a class with the rest, of the people she thought she knew best

but look inside and you might find that she don't know her self, and that's why she has to place, this label upon those who say grace, before they eat dinner

my mother and father, i love, so much. and that's why it hurt when she said they are weird. and that they're the reason my brother smoked crack.

fuck that. tears come down my face are dried, the stains from her lies still infiltrate my eyes. but it's okay, i live and forgive another day, just like my parents taught me

move on and pray