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  Aug 2014 Camellia-Japonica
Sjr1000
The first comment
I received
a "*******"
with a smiley face
I laughed off
wouldn't you?
Kind of crazy
kind of creepy
put it away as some one
we all know.

The second comment
came
with the usual language refrain
I was a "hack"
my words were "dreck".
The disparaging words about
my dead mother
gave me pause to reflect.

The third comment and more
began to recall
information of past
faux pas
secret affairs
one or two personal pecadillos
never mentioned beyond
the
dialogues in my mind.
Embarrassing I know.

I, of course,
went to the home page
to see
if it was someone
known to me.

No identifying data
but a picture I remembered vaguely
from a past I didn't know.

The trolling continued
relentless I would say
pulled the plug
put up a block
but
wouldn't you know

The comments continued
to come into my dreams
brutal criticism
of
every move I made
the day finally arrived
when I realized

Alter personalities were shedding off of me
like
psychological psoriasis
They were
hitting the ground running
I was
finding poems
I didn't remember writing
clothes I never bought
People kept hugging me
I had never met before
they
knew me far to well
called me many names
none of which were mine.

The silence of my nights were broken
when I found myself
in my car on Highway 101
returning from where I did not know
with a smile on my face
illegal drugs in my pocket.

How did I get here?
How did we get there?
Where are we now?

Another account opened
on Hello Poetry
with an anagram of my name.

I find my days
getting shorter and shorter
it became clear
I had become the dream
The others
had become me.
Those days where cutting off your nose to spite your face
is preferable to the fake smile?
The inane chat?
The constant hum of banality?
The pretence that all in the garden is rosy?
The surrounding of people you would cheerfully ****?

Where the slightest word sends you spiralling?
Where even "friends" drive you screaming for the hills?
Where silence is all you want, need, crave?
Where were it possible you'd scream not talk?
Where you'd get your bucket of regrets, and throw them to the wind?
Today is that day for me.
© JLB
03/08/2014
15:39 BST
After all is said and done
does humanity really care?
On reading the world news.
© JLB
02/08/2014
11:40 BST
  Jul 2014 Camellia-Japonica
Petal pie
She drew an s  shape on my foot with a stick
I lay there, paralysed with fear,
thinking was this the subtle beginning
of a programme of torture.
Her white coat and stethoscope
glinting in the strip lighting.

She asked me if I knew where i was.
I lay there, frozen with fear,
not able to open my mouth.
I could read letters on her name badge
I read it as Dr Helliday
So that's where i was
I thought, that confirms it
along with her snake charming smile.

She tried to get me to drink
But I lay there stiff with fear,
not wanting to open my mouth
in case it was poison.
She placed a wet sponge on my lips
my eyes widening in terror.

Can you see how many fingers I'm holding up?
She said gently
I lay there tensed up with fear.
I thought it must be a trap
I couldn't open my mouth
and fall in.

I was seeing things around me
that pinned me to the bed with fear.
Patients pouring blood out of windows.
shadows of nurses in nooses.
I screamed inwardly.
But could not open my mouth
for fear had clamped it shut
After coming out of a two week coma, I was taken to a psychiatric ward, but was in this catatonic state, hallucinating, it was terrifying, and it turned out i had water on my brain, so was readmitted to a medical ward.

The Doctor was in fact called Dr Holliday, and this was 9 years ago. I am so thankful for every day since **
My words are my armour, my blade, my security.
I use their definitive purpose to strike, to wound, to ****.
I have no need to use an actual knife, my rapier bladed tongue
cuts with an accuracy of a surgeons scalpel.
If you have no parry, or riposte, I'll Épée a thrusting word like the sword.
Your entire being is a valid target, I cannot fight with fists, I cannot crush
you physically, but mentally I will make you my target for words.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones! but words will never hurt me"

Oh, but they will hurt. Long after a scar has healed, a cut has scabbed,
words will linger, haunt and remind your every waking moment of the day you picked a fight, a dalliance if you will with a lexicographer.
© JLB
30/07/2014
14:14 BST
Like fairy dust caught in dappled sunlight they dance.
Swirling gracefully like a ballerina pirouetting
on a child's music box.
Graceful specks of fine dirt engrossed in cloaking
surfaces smooth and coarse.
Like petticoats caught in a summer breeze
rippling, and dipping, causing a sneeze.
Dust motes like a kilt swirling,
whirling in the kaleidoscope of daylight,
engross you in devoting a poem to their dance.
Those molecules, atoms of time passed.
© JLB
29/07/2014
09:29 BST
You are a fiery cloud of confidence.
An unbending
tree in the midst of a raging storm.
The quintessence of Africa,
The mother of nations,
An embodiment of royalty.
The essence of raw beauty,
You are the heart of Africa,
An undying flame of perfection,
A glint of hope.

You do not wilt under the sun,
Take pride in the pigment of your skin,
The fire in the color of your iris.
An epitome of courage and strength,
You are haven,
Utopia in dystopia.
You are every woman,
The beat of tribal drums.
You are music, poetry, dance, art.
You are a monument, a sculpture made by the Most High.

You are beautiful
You are Africa
For My Beautiful Black Queens
(And every other woman out there!)
Proudly South African
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