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Built up tears,
A dam released,
Violent movements,
Punching bags.

And all at once,
It liberated itself
Of its confining chains.

Alone,
An empty house,
All that movement in still air,
Very much hoping to be heard.

And the irony
of not knowing how to explain.

Harsh tears,
Ripped heart,
A voice made coarse,
Anger,
Frustration,
Fused a total meltdown.

An agonising cry,
Desparate movements replay
On days when feelings numb down,
And a hole widens from deep within,
Projecting from an empty shell,
Onto a vastly absent world.

All the kicking,
The punching,
Sore knuckles,
Aching knees,
Swollen eyes,
Dripping sweat,
An utterly spent heart.

And a hot scalding bath later,
An hour or so,
When souls filled a place called home,
It was as though nothing ever happened,
Simply a day well spent,
Rather eventful.
 Jan 2015 cherry rose
Graff1980
It never ends, fragments of visions collapsing upon themselves painfully. Her swollen eyes opening, and bursting with orange fire. Then closing just as fast. In between those agonizing seconds she sees everything. Thousands of years cycling over and over. Visions of visions within visions.


Cassandra saw her city razed to the ground. The wall which once stood firm against the onslaught of enemies crumbling with the ravages of time. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw her own grief. Her cousin had fallen in battle. She closed her eyes again, and scratched at her itchy eyelids.



Ten weeks passed without a blink, not even a fraction of an opening. She was disciplined, but the longer she fought the more her eyelids would burn. One blink to ease the agony and she was forced to see her father’s skin. A purple mass of dead flesh bubbling swelling, exploding, and rotting, with maggots squirming in out and around till flies formed and flew away. Another corpse left out in a burning city. One among many denied a peaceful death. Buildings crumbled to dust, the bodies became one with the earth. Cassandra cried without opening her eyes. Her father stroked her long soft curls, whispering reassurances. “It’s all right my child.”


Another three or four weeks passed. She had become blinder than Tiresias the blind prophet. Unable to recall if that was a story she had heard, or would hear in the future.  She sobbed spilling each and every sorrow she could. Every tragedy yet to come. Her father smiled gently placing a warm cloth upon her brow. “Shush my child these nightmares will fade soon enough.”


The young girl opened her eyes again. This time a years’ worth of history unfolded. She saw soldiers gathering arms. Battlements born of the Bronze Age burning with righteous rage. Steel blades clanging against bronze shields in preparation for war. Boats fully loaded departed.


She closed her eyes once more. It would be another two months before she opened them. In the meantime she pleaded with her father to leave the city. Day in and day out begging, sobbing, and screaming until she was sent away.


It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes closed. There was a burning force aching to escape. She managed five more weeks until she could bare the pain no longer. As her new sisters bathed her pale dry skin with the sweetest scented oils the young girl recited all that she saw and felt.


The first footfalls of the first soldier’s feet to touch the beach. The feel of the sand as it swirled in, out and around the soldier’s sandals. The general howling commands. The green eyes hungry for battle. The faces contorted in controlled rage. All that intensity burning under the once civilized façade. She closed her eyes again.


Cassandra sat silently in exhaustion, as the sisters slowly brushed the knots out of her long brown hair. They brought her a blindfold, which allowed only a small comfort. This time she only managed to resist for two weeks. The vision came upon her with such force that she cried out and collapsed.


Now the city was burning. Citizen screamed as they ran in terror. Brave men rushed forwards to be impaled on the spears of other brave men. Arrows swallowed the moonlight picking at the earth and scavenging for some bare flesh to devour. Blood ran like red rainwater. Streets streamed thin crimson pools diluted by warm summer showers. The stench oh, the stench, it made Cassandra ***** up chunks of soggy bread and half-digested beef mixed with red wine and stomach acid, while she tried to force her eyes to close.


Finally, she closed her eyes again. The sisters tried to sooth her sorrows, to no avail. Within a years’ time the young girl lost the ability to close her eyes. Cassandra eyeballs slowly burnt out until there was nothing left but charcoaled eye sockets. By the next year she could no longer speak. Cassandra became paralyzed by the futility of her existence.


In her mind the war had come and gone. The sieges were no longer an issue. She no longer felt the urge to cry for the dead. What was, will be, and what will be cannot be undone. What cannot be undone has already happened. Apollo had cursed her. Her beauty had enraptured him, her wit had charmed him, but her will had enraged him.


She was only thirteen with brown eyes and long hair of rare quality, soul so powerful that almost anyone who met her could feel its energy. She shamed the gods with her purity, and unwillingly ensnared their affection.


At first Apollo came with strong arms and tender words. Wooing to the point of painful pleasure. Her eyes could not handle such radiance. His skin burned as his chariot burned. Hair golden flames, skin solar yellow, eye orange as the sun. Each kiss burnt like the worse fever, taking her against her will, savaging her sanity. As if, as if being a god gave him the right to take such liberties.


Apollo viewed her early rejections with whimsy, believing them to be some cute token of her modesty. A god can afford to wait, after all eternity was on his side. After the first hundred no’s his affection gave way to anger. Until his desire could not bear rejection any longer.


At last he cried out to Cassandra. “I will have you or else.”


With a firm but fiery hand he swept her up.  Forcing his mouth against hers. Parting her pursed lip with his powerful tongue.  He shoved his tongue into her mouth, until tears streamed down her cheeks. She could not resist with words, because her mouth was occupied, so she took the only action she knew available to her.


She bit down as hard she could. Lava spewed from Apollo’s lips, roughly singing the inside of her mouth. Without realizing what was happening she swallowed. Her skin began to glow, tiny childlike limbs lengthened and tightened. From her eyes radiated the most powerful light ever seen by man or god. For a moment Apollo cowered beneath the awe of her power, stumbling backwards to the ground dumbfounded.


Regaining his composure he slapped her aside. Scowling in rage “How dare you. You. You worthless *****.”


Her lips parted now of her own volition. Her voice raged with a deep and powerful resonance. “How dare you, you whimpering fool.” The power still flowing inwards filled her with confidence. “I see you for what you are. A tool, a man made invention.” The radiance of her skin was slowly fading. “I see too much now.” She cried out in an ******* fury. A smile crossed her lips. “I see what will become of you and your ilk.”


With strength previously unimagined the young girl thrusted her small hands out throttling Apollo’s throat. He trembled in fear. “You cannot hope to contain the power of me. I am generations incarnated. Passing power from one age to the next. I will not be enslaved.” Her skin began to blink, her voice loss much of its force. “I am Cassandra, and you a merely a passing phase. I will tell the world of all I have seen.”


The last bit of godly energy faded from her skin. Cassandra collapsed. “I still see it all, and you will never touch me again.”


Apollo brushed bits of earth off his person. “See all you want, I care not.” He lunged for her. A flash of thin white light flung him back.

Confused, Apollo rose. Glaring he screamed “You may see all now. It is a gift my blood has given you, but soon it will become a curse. For no mortal wishes to believe that the fates have already written their story. They will ignore you, and in doing so you will find that this power you have gained will be for naught. Thus will be your curse to see all, with no power to stop it.”


Cassandra’s eyes opened wide, seconds split into eternity. She felt the passing of all those around her. She felts time’s stench and rot all around her. Her skin would wrinkle to a certain degree but she would be eternal. She saw cities rise and fall. Some to rise again others to be forgotten. She saw herself seeing each of these visions again and again. She lived her immortal life over and over, events unchanged be anything she said.


The only real comfort was that she saw Apollo wither away. As the old gods fell to ruins weakened by the rationality of new gods, then the rationality of structured reason. Then came the rise of something new and better. Reason with abstraction, abstraction with order, a cycle of energy which emboldened and empowered man. She chuckled.
“Go away little godling.”
And like the little thing he was, Apollo ran.
Her father shushed her, wiping the tears from her face.
The sisters bathed her; singing songs of love and adoration.
Troy fell under the onslaught.
Apollo came and went again.


Cassandra’s eyes opened wide closed and open wide once more, seconds split into eternity. She felt the passing of all those around her. She felts time’s stench and rot all around her. Her skin would wrinkle to a certain degree but she would be eternal. She saw cities rise and fall. Some to rise again others to be forgotten. She saw herself seeing each of these visions again and again. She lived her immortal life over and over, events unchanged be anything she said.


The only one real comfort was that she saw Apollo wither away. As the old gods fell to ruins weakened by the rationality of new gods, then the rationality of structured reason. Then came the rise of something new and better. Reason with abstraction, abstraction with order, a cycle of energy which emboldened and empowered man. She chuckled.
“Go away little godling.”
And like the little thing he was, Apollo ran.
Her father shushed her, wiping the tears from her face.
The sisters bathed her; singing songs of love and adoration.
Troy fell under the onslaught.
Apollo came and went again.
Her temple is beating against her brain much harder than it should be
As she lays in that hospital bed and counts the stitches on her best friend's eye
As if they are stars forming constellations in the sky over the sea.
She pulls at her hair, wishing her head would stop pounding.
But what if it wasn’t pounding?
What if that ***** in her chest stopped pounding against her ribs?
She cannot see that it is the only other likely outcome of such a disastrous night.
She can’t thank god for the chaos in her life
Despite the fact that it is the only thing keeping her alive.
This chaos is the recipe that is being pumped into that IV
Through her veins
And to her beating heart,
Keeping that ******* pulse beating heavily
Against her beautiful mind
That sees scars as constellations
In the sky over the sea.
Never ever
Make her cry

Never ever
Ask her why

Never ever
Just fade away

Never ever
Try to stray

Never ever
Fail to miss

Never ever
Forget to kiss

Never ever
Hit her face

Never ever
A drunkard disgrace

Never ever
Stop loving her

Never ever
Stop being together

Never ever
Tell her lies

Never ever
Blind her eyes

Never ever
Do these things

For ever
Misery it brings
copyright Chris Smith 2010
Next time you make an empty promise
Shatter it against the concrete
And rip open my flesh with the sharpest point,
Pour salt in my wounds
And leave me to rust.
And then tell me again
How it pains you to see me suffer.
Darling, all this time you were killing two birds
With one stone,
But since when can I fly?
 Jan 2015 cherry rose
Kassey Lane
Buried in your sorrows,
Not a day without tomorrow's.
Your windowed pain
Spider cracks in the rain.
The hopes and dreams,
Sinking in empty screens.
But not a second floats by,
That you don't remember how you'll die.
In this world,
money equals fate,
Be careful not to procreate.
Promises of false securities,
Foolish plans and possibilities.
Standing here on your own
Listening to busy signal on the phone.
Pain builds up in your head.
Soon your screaming.
Could it be easier if you're dead?
Your calling out for some notion,
Just a tiny speck of emotion....
Silence fills the room.
Your on your own and it feels too soon.
Now it's time to leave the lagoon.
Let go of your rock and drift away
The ocean will bring you back another day.
 Jan 2015 cherry rose
Justin G
What's in his mind?
One cup of labor
Two scoops of pain
Three scoops of lust
Issues with trust
Four cups of distress
One more for the rest
And five milligrams
of pessimism at best

What's in his heart?
One tablespoon of pride
Two teaspoons of shame
A spoonful of ambition
One third expedition
Two-thirds of abolition
A half a cup of absentee
Another half depravity

What's in his soul?
A recipe I have yet to know
This was fun, I hope I did swell. Here's a link for the instructions to this challenge. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1042851/the-recipe-challenge/
No time
No hope
No honour
No justice
No peace
No heart
No soul
No will
No desire
No right
No need
No way
No want
No one
No more
No know

Know time
Know hope
Know love
Know honour
Know justice
Know peace
Know heart
Know soul
Know will
Know desire
Know right
Know need
Know way
Know want
Know one
Know more
Know no
copyright Chris Smith 2010
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