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Monsters in your diaphragm
you scream out your rhymes so loud
trying to find a spell
strong enough that will
expel these hiccups
putting spaces in your words.

Tying your tongue up in knots
writer's block has got you hooked
up to an IV flowing creativity.

Like a ****** addict
trying to forget the screams.
IV pumping fluid into his
veins repressing the memories.
Trying to dig them into the mud
but you see when you do that
they just harden over time
get stuck in your memory
like scars on the suicidal
mental patient trying to cut
her jugular.

See I've been to a mental hospital.
You share secrets of how the wet
towels give you friction burns and
leave scars deeper than
your nails can.
Like on the transgender girl,
Staff referring to her with her
former pronoun,
I swear I've never see a deeper
mental breakdown.

They all regret everything they've seen.
hid what happened to them deep inside.
But let me tell you.
I've been *****.
It wasn't in a dark alley,
I wasn't hog-tied and no gun
was held to my head.
But it was just as
traumatizing. I know that the way
he took my body and made it his
was wrong. But his abuse is mine.
What he did to me is mine.
I can hold the anger I have in my hand,
squish it like play dough. I can
shape it into a knife and stab him
deeper than he injected me with
his controllingness.

Moral of this ****** up poem
is to let it out. Understand that ****
happens and it ******* *****
and none of it was your fault.
But do not let it control you.
The situation held you in bounds for
as long as it could.
Do not stay with your hands behind
your back just because you're scared
the handcuffs are still there.
You can take the memories so deep in
your mind and make them cement
underneath your feet
as ground to stand on.
Grow bigger than you ever have.
And let your abuser know it's because
they broke you.
You just fixed your bones with
titanium, and now they can't touch you.
I wrote this awhile ago, and I recently just found it. It's rough but, enjoy :)
you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.
I want to be a travelling teacher.
I want my life to be a lesson.
Spread a psalm of love to those who remain ignorant
In the dark corners of the world.

I want to hug every decrepit old person
And kiss the forehead of every baby.
I want to relieve the stress of the working class
And show mothers that I understand their struggle.

It is only through love that we can change this place.
Compassion be the sword that cuts through bigotry.
Let us heal our wounded spirits.
Let us feed our young.
Let us forget, even for a moment, the law of the land
To reenact the basic laws of man.

Be gentle, and kind.
We only get one life.
Use it wisely, and maybe,
Our children will grow as the lotus,
And bloom above these murky waters
Of selfishness and ambition.

Come together.
So much depends
On the organs

To let the soul
Drink a lot of peace!

All go deep
Into their permanent houses

But a few rest at ease
And have the light!
Notes (optional)
 Jan 2015 Joann Rolleston
How are you?
I'm alright I guess...

Where do we begin?
Maybe at the start of this mess.

Are you uncomfortable?
I can't say that I'm not.

Is it your past?
Well it's all I've got.

Do you still get nightmares?
Well I used to...

Will you let them show?
Depends on you...

What do you hope to accomplish?
I don't know... Peace of mind?

Would you have done things differently?
Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind".

Care to elaborate?
Let's just say I would've liked to be braver.

What do you mean?
I should've stood up to my father...

Did he abuse your trust?
He did more than just that...

Rob you of your freedom?
Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat.

Do you wish him ill?
I wished him dead.

"Wished"? his bed.

Why "wished"?
Because I wanted that then...

For how long?
Since I was ten.

What about now?
Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace.

"At peace"?
I have found release.

You have?
Yes... I couldn't resist the urge.

Urge to do what?
To comply with the voice... "
Freedom...lies in the purge..."

You left your father?
Yes but not before...

Go on...*
Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...
Inspired a programme I watched on the crime channel.
When the time has returned
Hearts can't go out from you
Lost love seems to be a footprint
Decayed stone is a sign of thy

The last laugh
The flute
Putting forward the images of the day
Today it has grown a big miss for the poet

Spots at matches
Someone calls the untimely
I See
You see
Everything becoming change

Quick change
You and me
The Trees
The Hills
The River

Your restless mind
Grew cold
Even fastest cyclone
Became cool

Leaves fallen
Grew again
Spring came
And moved away

She came
She sang
Again she went away
Never hold back
Just left this footprint

The last laugh
The flute
Putting forward the images of the day
Today it has grown a big miss for the poet
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Footprint, Today it has grown big miss for the poet
When the words won't come
I feel numb, empty inside
On a slow ride
Wanting to go faster

I sit waiting, for stimulus, motivation
Any sign of animation
in this head of mine
Waiting for the literary spark

My mind drips like a tap, drip, drip
Everything in slo mo
Need the words to grow
Blossom, bloom


It hits me
A seed, a kernel
I feel the infernal rattlings
Of cogs that begin to turn

I feel it, a flutter, a thought
Emerging like a butterfly
Words multiply
I write

The words spill like a waterfall
Soaking my senses, breaking down fences
I am hydrated again
I hate writer's block and this is about my frustration in those moments.
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