It is an imposing
and intrusive realization
that sorrow and
righteous fury
take a hold of the
psyche and the soul
in places where most
would not allow
even God or His angels
to tread.


by- Mercurychyld
Copyright 31 Aug. 2016
Wednesday

As to all
there be a season,
joy would not
taste as sweet without
the bitter spice
of tears,

loyalty would not have
its bonding powers
without the sting
of betrayal,

and a rose would not
be as fragrant
or as dazzling
without its
very thorns,

for it would then
be something other
than what it was
meant to be.



by Mercurychyld
Copyright 31 Aug. 2016
Wednesday

She walks in circles
ever confused in this life
in the grips of fear.



~ by Mercurychyld
(Aka Maria E Labbe)
Copyright 22 Feb 16
Tuesday

I feel lonely
when you sleep.

I find myself walking
and pacing,
plagued by thoughts
and worries and
feelings of doom.

Wired yet empty,
as if some part of me
is missing or
ripped away.

Where did it go?
When will it be back?

Displaced, I am
obliged to search within
the trunk of memories
in my mind
and pick out a few
memories of you,
of us,
dust them off
and play them like
snippets of favorite
movies

and for a little while
I can ignore the flood
of tearful melancholia
that creeps and stalks,
just waiting to drown me.

For a little while
I can think of you,
our silly laughs and giggles
and mutual goofiness…

and for that little while
I can smile.


(Ode to my beautiful sons)

-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 23 Nov 15
Monday

Sometimes
the words drop
from fingertips,
climbing over each
other like playful
children.

Sometimes
the words flow
quietly, gently,
like soft waters in
a whispering pond.

Sometimes
the words burst out,
roaring like mighty
thunder,
sparking the sky
like brilliant
lightening.

Sometimes
the words spill out,
like scalding lava,
scorching and setting
aflame all in their wake.

Sometimes
the words latch on
with fangs,
suckling the life
force from its
intended victim.

Sometimes
the words infuse
thought and passion
into the bloodstream,
like a ***** *******,
injecting
euphoric bliss.

Sometimes
the words sit back,
silently observing
waiting,
patiently,
for the need
to birth the cries
of the heavy heart

releasing an ocean
of emotion…

and drowning
the world.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 16 Oct. 2015
Friday

My heart never stops
breaking, caving into
itself.
I’m often so surprised
to have any pieces left.
I never wanted to
be like “her”; like my
mother, yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
full of guilt.

A guilt that never wanes
or ever could.

I read many books,
many genres.
Some truly make
me face what my heart
knows too well;
this deep sense of guilt.

As I read of characters;
multifaceted, complex men
who step up and love
and raise their sons
and daughters,
I am reminded,
time and again,
that MY sons do not,
or ever will have,
that kind of blessing.

No great male example
to learn from,
to spend time with,
to show them how to
become good Godly men.

Those moments cause me
to question and doubt
myself, as a mother.

I never wanted to be
like “her”; my mother,
with her revolving door
of ****** men
for one reason or another,
yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
reminded of how I too
have failed.

The sins of the parents
shall be visited upon
the children…
for that I’m so
very, very sorry
My sons.

The hot tears fall
and the heart disintegrates,
and the anger-sadness grows…
anger mainly at myself.

MY DECISIONS have
brought us all to
where we are today.

Culpability overload.
I wonder, does God
blame me?
Will my sons?
Not that I would ever
blame either if they do.

If I could go back,
if I could begin again,
what would I change?

This is the question
as the familiar pangs
of guilt grow like weeds,
and never subside.

To my sons,
for all of my mistakes
and wrong decisions,
both before and after
your births,
decisions that leave
imprints on your
lives as well…

I am Forever sorry.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 12 Oct. 15
Monday

The days are getting darker and cloudier now,
like a metaphor for where my spirit is.
I feel the tentacles of depression taking hold,
quietly slithering, one by one, around my throat,
squeezing the smiles and laughter and happy
thoughts away.
Nothing gives me joy, not even the usual pleasures.
The music has taken on a sad and menacing tone,
reminding me that depression is, once again, a most
unwanted yet insistent guest.

Who could’ve thought…
certainly not me…
how the fires of love
would burn so intensely,
and consume me
in the miniscule span
of three precious weeks.

Actually though,
it was longer;
it began
eight months earlier;
before the final
three weeks of  your
most cherished life.

It was before I
tenderly touched
your fragile skin,
so paper thin,
and looked into those
beautiful amber eyes,
when you’d open them.

My own amber eyes
looking back at me.
You were my mirror
and I had no idea, then,
just what I’d see,
or what YOU could see
as you looked right
into me.

You, my little one,
showed me a part of
myself I never thought
existed
before you.

If I hadn’t held you
for the treasured
time allowed,
if I hadn’t felt you
with my own skin,
seen you with my
own eyes,
reached out with my
own heart,
or enveloped you with
my own mind,
I wouldn’t have believed
how much the fickle
fires of the heart could
grow, expand and
utterly consume me,
in the span of those
three precious weeks.

The moment you exhaled
your last little breath
and died in my arms,
you took a piece of
my very soul
with you.

Keep it safe, my love.
You planted it deep
within you long ago,
allowing it to grow.

I love you always,
of that never, ever doubt…
till we meet again
my treasured
first born.

I missed you then,
I miss you still,
and for forever
always will.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
~~~~~~~

~ In remembrance of my
Giovani, born and died
14 years ago this 5th
of July. Never forgotten.~
❤️

Compelled by the wind
set adrift alone at sea
my heart finds no ease

A lost soul cries out
loudest silence ever heard
falling on deaf ears

The semblance of youth
a clock ticking life away
a heart torn apart



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Just as summer releases its warm embrace
Ushering in beautiful colors and flavors,
Love blossoms in my heart once again, reborn.
Your memory, my son, consumes and embraces
me in its own warmth.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 26 May 15
Tuesday


~ In memory of my Giovani, my beautiful
boy with wings ~ ❤️ ~

Only you can translate
where you are
on your voyage through
this varied farce
called “life”.

No one else can dictate
to you…
or should even dare…
how to phrase
your feelings,
your thoughts,
your personal moments.

Who is anyone to
cause another to feel
inept or inferior
for wording their
experiences as they will?

We are all both
audience and poet,
consumed by the
powerful spell of words
and meaning
we are bonded
in ink.

It takes gumption
and courage
to give voice to
your vision of
the world.

It often requires
resilience and nerve
to open your heart
and peel back the
layers of skin,
and let others take
a long look at the
inner workings of YOU.

Be brave,
take courage,
let your soul speak
in its very own
language.

People will read
your words and
listen to the sweet
whispers
and thunderous shouts
that flow from pens
and keys
to release the
inner demons and angels
and the lyrical
vines that bloom and live
in our individual
landscapes,

fluidly coursing from
our own rabbit holes
with fortitude and grace
and our neverlands,
where we need never
grow up,

to share with those
that need to see
and hear and feel
and wonder.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Floating from moment
to moment,
the red balloon
travels through and past
every phase of life,
never staying long
in one spot.

It was made for this
purpose;
to fly and soar
in the atmosphere,
wandering, observing
and wildly free.

At times, it longs
for an anchor
to hold onto for a while
and be still.

It knows no other way.
Always alone,
even in the midst of
others of its kind.

The red ballon
endures its long
journey alone,
plagued by its
difference and
uniqueness.

Ever unknowable
and misunderstood;
an enigma for the ages,
full of mystery
and longing.

It floats along,
collecting memories
and stories,
often dreaming of
finding anchor,
of reaching peace
and discovering
its true home.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 22 May 15
Friday

This day never ends,
not for me.
Dressed in the guise of
weeks, months and years,
but to me,
it’s all one
never-ending day.

I am a wildcat in a cage
made of consequences,
vile people
and wrong turns.

I am not a child
nor a woman,
nor a human anymore.

I am an ANIMAL
trapped in a cage
made of flesh and bone,
tied and twisted
with veins and arteries
laced with toxic outrage
and liquid pain.

I am a BEAST
caught in a trap
so invisible,
no one else can see.

I am fangs and claws,
surviving only on the
basest instincts.

I want to rip
through flesh,
tear at my
private thoughts,
claw at the venomous
upsurge of emotion
flowing through
this battered heart
and dying spirit.

This day never ends,
not for me.

The years pass,
the scenery may change,
colors become muted,
life tastes bland,
but the day never ends,
never comes to a close.

It’s all a wicked
nightmare that screams
in your head,
then suddenly stops
and goes silent,
waiting for you to find
your comfortable place
again,
only to reach out
with sadistic pleasure
and grab you
with unremitting vigor.

If there is an end,
my eyes are blind to it.

One day I will
finally explode
and all that I am
and have ever been
will ooze out,
drenching everything
in its wake,
like hard rain.

One day the madness
will cease,
life will come to a
standstill;
till that time comes
my life will continue
on this dark, morbid road,
and the day will
never end…

at least not for me.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Another Mother’s day upon us,
another deluge to
fill that ocean of tears
from years gone by.

A deep sadness takes hold,
reminding me of what a
dysfunctional circus this
Life has come to be,
trying not to repeat
my own mother’s mistakes.

Hindsight is 20/20,
so they say, but
it doesn’t matter
since you can never, ever
change yesterday.

I dreamed of giving
my sons all the things
I never had, but I look
around and clearly witness
that my efforts have
often been in vain.

A mother’s heart dies
a little more each day
as it travels the path
now chosen,
and for past sins
I and my children
do most definitely pay.

Lightning and thunder
always rumbling’.
The anger and melancholy
makes one want to run
screaming and slam into a
brick wall, so as not to
feel so intensely alone.

One “special day” a year;
an insult and a joke,
meant to placate the
exhaustion and madness
Motherhood can provoke.

I hate the hypocrisy of
it all,
like a band aid on
a deep ****.

Women/Mothers,
Always doing the brunt
Of the ***** work;
We will always cry more,
worry more,
suffer and feel more.

Mocked for our sentiments
and opinions,
for our need to be heard
and taken to heart,
and tending to our
                    quiet rage, warranted anxiety
and fears.

The world doesn’t really care
whether or not we are
truly “happy mothers”,
the evidence tells no lies.

So, forgive my bluntness
(or not, doesn’t really matter),
but for me
Mother’s day doesn’t really
hit the spot.

Too often most forget
That the very days that
mean joy and cheer for some,
for others can bring
nothing but isolation
and pain, not understood
by the festive crowds.

I often wonder,
who creates these
“special days” anyway?



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Let the bough break,
Let London’s bridge finally fall.
Go ahead, lock her up
and throw away the key.

The roof,
the roof is on fire;
let that M%#@%F+$@*R burn!

This time, the truth
won’t set you free.

When the folks are good,
they’re very, very good,
but these days, I’m afraid,
they’re simply horrid.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Confined and trapped,
Imprisoned within
his own form.
Unable to move,
Unable to walk,
Unable to utter a word..
Paralyzed;
he watches the world
around him.

A spectator who
can only observe
and wonder.

He tries to reach out
with his mind,
hoping somehow
someone will pick up his
psychic frequencies
like radio waves.

Keen and intelligent.
A genius that cannot be
Expressed or easily shared.

Misfortune has kidnapped
his existence and held
it for ransom.

Life goes on each day,
people sleeping,
waking, eating, playing,
working, praying.

All he can do is watch it
through the camera lens
of his inquisitive eyes.

So much to say,
yet no one to hear him.
So much to touch,
yet no one can feel him.

How long will his
prison hold him…
no one can say.

Life will go on each day,
as it always does,
and his debt will be paid
in broken pieces of his heart
and shattered slices of
his sanity.

And he shall ever be, merely…
a watcher.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

There has to be a better way.
There has to come a better day.
Can’t find much cause to want
to stay.

Deep in thought about the things
and happenings of life today.

Dreaming of a place where everything
will finally feel okay.

No more ills or aches
or rabid dismay.

Always searching for a reason…
to want to stay.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Wars for so-called religion,
Children, people starving
under ****** regimes
and dying on the streets.

Tsunamis, Landslides, Hurricanes,
Tornadoes, Erupting volcanoes,
Floods, Avalanches,
Deadly storms destroying
all that stands in their path.

A world where there is a
constant barrage of evidence
of a universal acceptance of
abuse against women
and children.

Evil men, leading cities
and countries,
establishing  selfish,
convenient rules and laws,
often under the guise of
“safety” and “terrorism
deterrant”.

*******; all of it!

Men whose rich pockets
are bursting at the seams
and whose bank accounts
get bigger and fatter with each
sick, sordid war.

Cures that exist for painful,
life-degrading diseases,
afflicting the most fragile
of our human society, and
BIG BUSINESS and
the Pharmaceutical masters
blocking them from the masses.

They MUST  maintain a
bread-line of the tragically
ill to continue
creating addicts, convinced
that they will always need
their almighty drugs to
live and survive.

Rapists, pedophiles, terrorists…
all welcome,
all find a home here,
where the prey is aplenty.

Jobs and wages,
taken away from the citizens
trying to feed and clothe
their families,
being replaced by robots
and drones.

What is a man to do?
How does a single mother
feed her young?

The rich get richer on
the backs of the little people;
the poor fall by the wayside…
modern day LEPERS,
mistreated, shunned
and scorned.

Beat down to the
lowest levels of this
demented humanity.

Evil is a gluttonous
predator who never
gets its fill.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

There was a woman once,
a woman on a long trek
through the desert.

She was on a mission,
to find herself
and to BECOME…
the woman her late
beautiful mother
had raised her to be.

This woman was mad,
adventurous, often careless,
and utterly inspiring.

I began to envision
my own life;
my own mission in
that vast desert,
and realized that I too
was striving to BECOME…
to UN-become
all the things my own
mother taught me to be,
for her own twisted purpose,
her own power trip
and narcissistic need,
and draped in convenient
deafness and blindness.

Never did I imagine
the excruciating journey
or detestable, bitter path
this un-becoming
would ultimately be,
for me.

Like a puzzle of
a thousand pieces,
torturously forced together,
whether they fit, or not,
the un-becoming entails
shattering, finally, the mirror
image once created
and wrapped around you
like a paralyzingly layer of skin,
and carving out,
from the leftover,
a new image;
the true image
of who I am…

whomever that may
one day be.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Days ago
there was a battle;
a struggle with waves of
relentless fury and
a choking sorrow,
wounds left to bleed,
but no one else could
know or see.

These wretched winds
were too intense for
me alone to stop;
I tried to reign them in,
but just could not.

Wrestling with injuring
thoughts and chaotic
emotions, alone,
I hadn’t realized another
was watching, guarding
over me, so to speak.

A silent sentinel,
waiting, observing,
making sure that no one
else got hurt
by the brutal storm
raging deep.

The whole time
he lovingly held the reigns,
and now handed them back
over to me.
He placed them gently
in my naked hands,
as his remained leathered
and gloved.

Now I wake
and a blanket of sorrow
covers me, like a
worn sweater,
but the dangerous winds
have died down;
I can once again handle them,
on my own.

None other can truly ‘see’
beneath the layers of
foreign smiles and
thoughtful words,
but he can;

he knows this ache,
understands the dark melody
and in kindness he rides,
he rides
just for me.

I sit high upon the tallest tree
just to witness
with my heart and soul
this thrilling ride he takes,
for me.

Round and round he goes,
gracefully weaving and swerving
to and fro.

For him there is no need
of practice,
yet he rides just for me,
‘cause he knows it
simply makes me happy.

The sounds of the engine,
the leathered hands
gripping the handles,
clutch and throttle;
a most beautiful sight to see,
and he does all this
whenever there’s need.
He does this all
for me.

An intricate flow
of movement,
this connection between
a rider and his bike.

A fascinating exchange
between flesh and machine,
as I have resigned myself
to never truly knowing it,
as I watch this
Angel on wheels.

He rides and swerves
with never a stutter,
never a clumsy fall,
and I simply smile
as it fills me with a
modicum of glee
as I get to watch
as he rides,
rides so skillfully,
just for me to see…

this Angel on wheels.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 28 March 15
Saturday

At times in life
we need to be reminded
how there are gifts
and blessings we often
take for granted.

Not on purpose,
not at all, but,
life gets in the way.
The constant struggles
can make any
silver lining seem
galaxies away.

During the darkest
moments, when I wake
each day,
going through the
motions of the daily grind,
I realize that I was
gifted with a few
amazing, inspiring
and loyal companions;

those I am truly
honored to call
my ‘friends’.
Friends in the truest
sense of the word.
Special people who
have shown me time
and time again
what it means to be loved,
unconditionally
and without judgement
or pause.

Even as pieces
of the heart splinter
and crack due to, often,
unforeseen events,
they are always there
to catch me,
if and when I fall.

I will remember
(to remember),
these comrades
God has placed in
my life;
those who know me,
accept me, splinters and all,
and love me,
unconditionally,

come what may.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 27 March 15
Friday

Long ago,
seems a century ago now,
I came upon what I
thought was a jewel
in the sand;

a diamond in the rough.
The most valuable jewel
I possessed,
but,
one day I took a
closer look and discovered
my diamond was not
a diamond at all,
or any kind of precious stone.

It had lost its luster
and in my hand all I had
was a broken piece of glass,

then,
it cut me.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Paint me a Hero;
one who can fight
my demons for a spell,
as I sit to rest.

Just hold me tightly,
and tell me I'm not alone,
if but for a while

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Your strength
and delicate resilience
showers us with hope,
love and deep thought.

As you fly high above,
the sound of your
mighty wings serves
as a reminder and
a healing…for your soul…
for ours…for those
beautiful, fragile ones
that shall endure
long after.

Your shining legacy
will live on, past any
of us, and
your strength shall
fly on eternity’s wings
into tomorrow, and
in the meantime,
our hearts fly
with you.

God bless you Carmen,
and all the ‘Carmens’
in the world!


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights


*Written a few years ago, to be included with other
Poets words, dedicated to a victim of violence, **** and domestic abuse who was terribly burned and suffered immensely. This poem, and others, was collected in a poetry book for the victim: Carmen

He was a preacher long ago,
punished by those in the
small, diseased town,
for his selfishness
and lack of Faith.

His very soul was ripped
from his struggling form,
cursed to walk through
this life
without a soul,

thus, his new purpose
then became to
steal and collect
the souls of others,
and quite the collection
he had.

The soul last collected,
as was once told to me,
was the soul of a
young girl,
to young to die,
to young to fly.

Her soul was snatched
from her,
through no will
of her own,
just like the others.

The grieving mother
gathered her up and
held her body tightly,
as only a true mother can.

Suddenly
the little body stirred.
First a little finger,
then a hand,
then her eyes opened,

but
the soul looking up
at the mother through
those knowing eyes
was not that of her daughter,
as she proved when she began
to hum a tune,
a tune previously hummed
by another.

Souls cling to life
in a way the common
man cannot understand.

The child’s mother,
upon reaching the
realization that this soul
was not in fact
her daughter’s,
simply held her little
body closer,
as only a loving mother
can.

She didn’t care
who now lived
inside her girl

for all that mattered
was,
she had her ‘daughter’ back.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

These city streets are lined with decay,
just look out the window,
you'll see spoils and rot on display.

Makes me often wonder just
how we came to be where we are.
While the righteous weren't looking
the hounds of hell dragged our
earth too far.

Our one true home is full of death
and discord,
while the little guy suffers,
the masters grow fat, rich and bored.

The 'fat cats' get portly as the
gluttons **** the land,
leading poor and weak to
slaughter,
with a damning, insatiable stand.

Where do we go to seek shelter
from this man made storm?

What do we hold onto in a world
so dis-eased and forlorn?

If survival is yet an attainable dream,
the seeds of destruction and doom
must be pried from the hearts
of men.

As I look out the window and see
this world in disturbing disarray,
the one thing I do know is that,
hope lies within each of us...
at the dawn
of each day.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

I see what you're doing; I know what you are.
Seen you travel some distance through
this lyrical bar.

I know your particular flavor,
as you 'give' yet leave nothing
to savor.

Did you say it all...did you feed your
callous need?
As your 'so called' critiques and comments
just left another to bleed?

How 'brave' you are behind your avatar,
but you see,
You've done little, if anything, to honestly
impress me.

You use your lack of diplomatic restraint
to simply crush spirits and leave behind
a dark, bitter taint.

Did you say all you needed, does is make
you feel better?
To ruffle thin feathers; crippling feelings
altogether?

I know what you're doing; I could BE you,
if I very well wanted to!

The bile and power of your word,
leaves poor souls understanding
that their thoughts and opinions, to you,
are absurd.

Time after time I read your insolent speeches
on many a blog,
as you spew forth your 'wisdom', dispensing
a high voltage flog.

I know what you're doing; I could BE you,
if I very well wanted to!

Unlike YOU, 'friend', I prefer to pay visits
and leave a word of kindness;
never leaving them with lyrical blindness.

Sometimes I may read, and have nothing
to say...if their words overwhelm, hit a nerve,
or inspire my mind to stray...to a place of
recognition...far, far away.

I just felt this deep need to express,
how you're grating on my nerves;
with your sour, evil comments
just disguised as 'clever words'.

Go on now, my 'friend', try to pen
words that INSPIRE...
I promise I'll be kind, even as
I unleash my fire...
unto the likes of you...
such a mean spirited shrew!

So next time, give great thought
to your comment before you click away,
'cause I know many a great poet here,
that by YOUR cold, pathetic words...
will NOT be chased away!




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

“Why drive through this reality sober
as conformity and vapid rules testify,
freedom of speech and opinion, over
but, on chemistry we can rely.”

Moved around from place to place,
people come and go,
friendships seldom found or made,
none can really know.

Sweet Mother died; gone much too soon
and dearest Father cracked.
Nothing else to do but howl at the moon
and brain cells laced with happy pills,
intended to distract.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

If I had but just one wish,
I’d break it into levels
which would more
than likely be this…

I’d wish to REMEMBERS...
remember the hard
lessons learned
this time around.

Most, painfully learned;
a few amusingly found.

I’d want to fulfill
all the promises
I made to myself.

Promises sacred
to the heart
and kept safe
and hidden
on a figurative shelf.

Remember
how I wanted to
draw and write,
sing and dance
and run and fly

as free and far as ever,
just gliding through
the sky.

I’d not forget
that the current facts
of my life were, in fact,
NEVER part of my plan.

For me, I did not envision
nuptials or children
or being indebted
to any man

but,

next time I’ll finally
get things right.

My life will be
a miracle of friendships and
beauty and art and music
in all forms.

All these and more
will then fill my
curious appetite.

Sorrows, fears, and worries
will NOT take over
my new world.

Only my innate sense
creativity, imagination
and wonder
shall then be
unfurled.

I will never HAVE to
share, give up, or
compromise a thing,
unless it is by choice.

My restless soul smiles
Inside when I stop to
envision these things,
and to them give
full voice.

If I ever get but just one wish
it would most likely be this…

next time around
I’ll not allow the trials
of life or selfishness of others
ever impede my search
for my genuine self
or my personal bliss.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

My current mission is at hand;
to fly away to foreign land.

Today is the day of my
****** flight,

In which I will soar to an
unfathomable height.

Away from all that I
have known.

A journey I must attempt
alone.

To gods of space and time
I send a desperate plea...

Allow me passage through
your ancient realms; please
grant your mercy to me.

This mission must come
to fruition,

Regardless of my final
outcome or condition.

As on darkened wings
I begin my ascent,

To wherever this willing
spirit shall be sent.

Till ultimately I will
prayerfully discover,

The most obscure secrets
of earth and self, that I
am gifted to uncover.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

I am
my very best friend
and most prominent
obstacle.

I am
the keeper of
all my secrets
and the teller
of some.

I am
the great, unnerving
adventure that
never ends.

I am
consumed by
curiosity and wonder,
and seldom pacified
with answers

which only lead me
down yet another
tangled web.

I am
the poetry in motion
and the walking story
in my head,

dressed in
scads of tendrils
colored in ideas
and thoughts.

I am
the sinner
and the saint.

I cast a shadow
at whim,
even when there is
no sun.

I am
the magic elixir
and I am
the wine.

I am
the great Oz,
the Capt. Hook,
and the mad
Mad Hatter
of my world.

Always be aware,
stay constantly alert,
for not even I know
through which trap door
I will go
within the labyrinth
of this mind...

perhaps
leaving a bit
of shrouded evidence
behind.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Agnes was certainly no beauty by any
standard of the day, not even 'pretty'
really. Not the type anyone would
notice as she'd scurry through a room.

Surely her stress ridden life added to
the many wrinkles and dark circles
that plagued her face, and the weathered
look of her eyes and skin, and sunken
posture.

To meet her gaze was to witness a far
off, blank expression, where once
emotion and thought were reflected.

Until the day she came toward me with
a box. She sat by me, looked into my
eyes, and spoke in a manner and voice
I'd never heard from her...almost
animated.

She explained how she'd saved and
saved, secretly, with the hope that
one day she'd find something she
believed in strongly enough to invest
in...and, that day was today, and that
'something' was ME!

As she spoke, I came to see her in a
different light. With each passing
sentence carried by her voice, the
wrinkles and ravages of time seemed
to fade. With each passing minute,
the years in her eyes seemed to melt
away and her light shone through,
and I could swear I saw her once
young, vibrant self, smiling at me.

In that small, significant pocket of time
she had looked upon me and found
someone who needed her, once again
truly needed her, and I had found in
her someone who believed, finally truly
believed...in me.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

The truth lies
not in her eyes,
for she learned
long ago
how to forge
desperate lies.

It's as she was
conditioned to do...
to tell lies
with her eyes,
and beguile
with her smile.

The truth lies
not in her eyes,
but if you must know
just where her
verity dwells...

it's in her voice...

the timber,
the rhythm,
the words,
the whispers
in the sound.

It's in her voice
that her truth
will be found.

Can you hear it?




By Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Vibrant colors,
droves of faces,
quite the happy daze

Tepid gods,
vast oasis,
such euphoric haze

Visions sublime,
befuddled senses
precede the happy dance

Creativity sparked,
mother nature's dreaming,
find your totem in the trance




by Mercurychyld
©

I saw it...ravaged and old,
cursed by...time.
Left to rot in an
old, unwelcoming lot.

It told of so many roads
traveled, so many
conversations had...
so much love made in
the dark of night, parked
in secret places.

Life...it had 'life' once..
long ago.

So many places, so many
stories, buried forever,
within squeaky hinges
and forgotten steal.

Now, disregarded...
and discarded...but
once, long ago, it
provided...it was
essential and carried
precious cargo,
encased by metal and
glass....

before becoming a relic
of another time.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 2015


* Re: a picture of an old parked, rusted pick-up truck

She goes by many names,
like the devil…
‘she, her, woman,
MOTHER.

No one else in this unruly world
can wound and shred me
to the very bone…
not like her,
never like her.

She never understood me,
never really cared to, not at all,
though she’ll swear otherwise,
but,
both I and those that know me
know that she doesn’t ‘get me’
AT ALL.

Don’t tell HER that though,
or even THINK about
contradicting or challenging
her word.

Her word is scripture!

I’ve also gone by various names,
names that spilled so easily
from her wicked tongue…
‘loser, quitter,
pathetic, too fragile,
bad attitude,
mentally ill…for no
good reason
(I was just BORN crazy,
not her fault…never).

More often than not
her conversations
(or rather, monologues)
with me (AT me)
consist of pointing out
my every wrong
(in her superior opinion).

My greatest crime?
NOT BEING LIKE HER,
‘matter of fact she has always
been a great lesson to me
of what NOT to be.

I am a much better mother.
I sometimes forget
(when her voice booms in my head)
yet I DO know that,
without an ounce of doubt.

I can tell, when my boys look at me
and smile with utter adoration
in their beautiful eyes.

I can tell, when they want to
constantly hug me and remind me
how much they love me.
My best friend, all those who
truly have come to know me in
life, seem to think I’m pretty cool.

I know that too, though I
often forget
(when her voice booms in my head).

She taught me…
to fear (everything and everyone),
to rage (only on the inside…God
forbid I expressed anger or hurt).

Some have called me
BRAVE.
I never saw or understood that.
At times I still don’t.

When my firstborn died,
in my arms, before his time,
people called me ‘brave’ because
‘I took it so well’.
I didn’t. A piece of me died
with him that day.

Though I’m often terrified, to
even put one foot in front of
the other I do it every day,
for my sons.

I have always been afraid…
of most everything, most
everyone,
yet I rise each day, pushing past
the depression and fear,
swallowing the bitter tears
and I get up and do what must be done.

Isn’t that what courage is?
Doing something, even while
you tremble in your boots?

I do that very thing.

Guess that does qualify me
as being BRAVE.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 30 Jan 15

At times, the silence
feels as oppressive
as tar,
and just as dark.

When the family
members are gone,
be it to school or work
or wherever,

I take the opportunity
to let her out;
the little girl with
all the scars,
who lives inside…

of the walls,
in between the halls
of my very being.

She cautiously walks along,
quietly,
and finds her spot
among the shadows.

There, she can
taste her fears,
and cry her tears…

with no one the wiser,
no witness to be found,
except the very
walls and halls,

but they can hold
a secret,
or a confession,
with the utmost
discretion.

Standing at a distance,
I allow her her space…

space for expression,
respite from depression,
safety from oppression,
room for regression.

The clock keeps ticking;
it never slows or stops.

She knows the hour
will come for her to,
once again,
return to the place
in which only she
resides,
inside.

Holding on
(for dear life),
till the next chance
she’ll come out,
once again,

for an ever needed
escape
from the tempermental
holds of our
Reality.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 29 Jan 15

You bleed and
you wither,
and you bruise
and you shatter,

though, outwardly,
most can’t tell,
blinded and deafened
by their own
inane chatter,

as you slowly
and cursedly die,
it just doesn’t seem
to matter.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 28 Jan 15

Fleeting thoughts
come and go.

Full of trepidation
and broken bones

Looking, searching
wildly in the mind
for a place of solace,
just to rest
awhile.

Wondering, suddenly,
of Heaven
and its
blessed inhabitants.

How must it be,
what must they do?

I cannot begin to imagine,
but,
what I CAN say is
what they DON’T have.

They have no pain,
no sorrows or dark thoughts,
no hurts or anger
or fears.

Those days are over
for them,
if they had a life,
here.

We shouldn’t ‘envy’,
yes, I know this, but,
I do, I DO envy,
them
and what they
DON’T have,
of which I have
an abundance;
perhaps more than
my share.

I envy them,
and pray to have one day,
what they have,
so I can walk forward
and forget…

Forget the plethora
of trials and
tribulations
as endured by
you, me, us.

We that wake each day
on this volatile,
mercurial planet
we call…
home.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 28 Jan 15

Rocks and hard places,
that’s all there is…
for me.

I twist and turn
and rebel, and shatter
against all kinds of
rocks-and-hard-places.

Never a soft place
to land,
never at peace enough
to just let go
and BE what THEY
want of me.

I try to lift up and fly,
but these wings
cannot expand.
They’re weighted down
by bricks of
disappointments
(mostly of self),
and breaches,
manipulations,
and betrayals,
and I can’t quite
catch a proper
wind.

No matter what is ever said,
no matter what is ever done,
it has never been
or ever shall be simply
“good enough”.

“Good enough,
worthwhile,
great job,
‘ya done good”…
these are not the words
I see
in the cold, alarming
stares
pointed right at me.

Why is the absolute
state of Death seem
ever so much more
appealing,
than
waking each and every
day to merely feel
lost and astray?

Rocks and hard places,
bloodied bruises,
shredded faces…
wounds no one see
‘cause outside,
I’m a painted shell,
and I wear it well.
Isn’t that the point?
The game goes
like this:
the worse you feel
on the inside,
the more outwardly
beautiful you
must become
(hiding in plain sight).

So you find yourself
answering a question
with a question:

“Are you ok, you seem
so deeply troubled
and dismay?”

“Yes, but do I look good?”

‘Cause in the end,
THAT’S what people
will see.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 28 Jan 15

The rings of smoke
run circles
around you;

the air, pungent
with the bitter
stench of second
hand smoke…
cough, cough.

“I can stop,
whenever I choose!”
you say.
Right!

Tryin’ to convince,
who,
me or you?,
but,
we both know better,
don’t we?

You say, “oh, I’ll quit,
someday, you’ll see”,
but truth be told,
it’s just not meant
to be ‘cause…
there will ALWAYS be
heartbreaks,
illness,
lost jobs,
money troubles,
betrayal,
lack,
of food,
of fun,
just lack of…
something.

So, stop foolin yourself
(‘cause you’re not
foolin’ me…heard it
ALL before).

You’ll never really quit
‘cause there will
always be
SOME ****…
stressin’ you out,
leaving you needing…
to calm those
EDGY nerves,
Right?



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 19 Jan. 15

You left me yesterday,
as many times before.
Left me as you found me;
often knocking
at your door.

When you left
I did not cry.
Found fierce pain and sorrow,
yet I did not die.

I, a lonely, broken child
filled with
fractured thoughts
and rage,
still you opened up
my book of life,
and began a
brand new page.

Desperate for a friend
who would somehow
understand,
I found in you a comrade
who took me
by the hand.

I realize now
I pushed to hard;
overwhelmed you
with my need, but,
in you I saw an image
of me,
and in my soul
grew a shameless
greed.

The years went by,
you came and went
and often disappeared,
though I knew you
weren’t quite ‘gone’,
‘cause I always
felt you near.

Then one day
you broke my heart,
as you truly left,
with no trace
or goodbye.

The space you built
within my life
would not again be
filled.

At times I remember
how you colored my life,
and I retreat to my
hidden place,
and take the time
to cry.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 11 Jan 2015

Life has always been one
where I swam upstream,
against the tide,
always against.

Most times the waters rage,
offering no mercy,
but only turmoil
as I thrash around
the powerful waters,
as if wrestling
Neptune himself.

At times the god
seems appeased,
for a while,
and the waters relent,
caressing me,
playing, pushing, pulling
back and forth,
as if a smoothly choreographed
ballet.

The calm never lasts,
very long.
I know this well.
I only attempt to enjoy
these softer moments,
while they grant me
subtle tendrils
of relief.

Soon enough
the angry waves return,
challenging me,
daring me to continue
this treacherous swim,
upstream,
always against
the tide.

Too often
I have felt the danger,
the desire even,
to finally let go
and drown.

Funny thing is
I have no real clue
how I’ve made it
thus far…

as I never learned
to swim.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 11 Jan. 2015

It never lasts…
not long enough.
Always fleeting,
temporary,
gone all too soon.
It’s a tease with
no ‘happy ending’.

Every so often
you get a piece,
just a small fragment,
just as quickly departed,
right as you were
getting accustomed
to it.

A stunning box
with intricate,
abstract designs,
but what you don’t
notice, till way
too late, is
that if you hold it
close, right up
to the light,
you will see the
fine cracks.

You’ll see it start
to chip away
as you scratch
the surface
with your nail,
and chunks of
false paint fall
to the ground,
and you find the ugly,
rusted color underneath
its artificial chiseled skin,
an imitation of beauty
which can truly only
live and shine
within the jagged
confines of the
imaginative mind.

Nothing really brings
joy; not BEING
any of the things
we’re expected
or required to be…
not being a mother,
not being a wife,
not being a daughter,
not being a sister.

Nothing really brings
joy,
but when it seems
you finally catch
a glimpse of it,
even for a small
snippet of time,
you must, painfully,
realize that it was
just your
untrustworthy eyes…

playing cruel tricks.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

I stood back, and simply
watched..in silence..
as you went searching..
for me.

You searched everywhere,
high and low,
at every park,
in every bar,
through every store,
each passing car.

No stone did you leave
unturned,
and I, stood back and
simply watched..in
silence..as you searched
and searched..for me.

What you failed to
realize, as you
stepped all over reason,
and passed by every
rhyme,
was that I was there,
right there,
the whole entire time.

Always near,
never apart.

I was always there...
right under the surface
of your rhythmic,
beating heart.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

The plans for her
return
always cause the
greatest dis-ease
to the system.

Mother…a wound
that only ever
scabs over,
but never truly
heals.

She comes from
many miles away;
a casually dressed
monster
with self-proclaimed
‘good intentions’,
like the road to Hell.

My hell…on Earth.
Have I yet paid
my dues?
Have I done enough
penance…ever?

The link to
maintaining my
sanity;
the calming balm
to my distressed
heart…is him.

My lifeline,
the reason I can
continue to smile
and laugh, uninterrupted,
despite the oozing
wound,
invisible to the
naked eye,
appearing to others,
that don’t know
the history,
as simply…
attitude.

The wound never
truly heals;
there is no
‘closure’.
I’ve given up on
that particular idea…
wish…goal.

Despite the ever
festering
inflicted/afflicted
hurt;
my baggage,
which seldom gets
lighter,
I find his comforting
hand, which reaches
for my own,
leading me away,
sometimes even pulling me,
for my own good,
into the light,
giving respite to
the wearied psyche
that dwells in my head.

He shines the brightest
of Suns
upon my often
frigid, numbed soul,
melting away
the sickness,
the brain-washing,
the manipulation
of eons gone by.

Always leaving behind
Shadows
where their
very breath
used to be.

He is the safe haven,
the cocoon
which allows my
safe metamorphosis,
until I can slowly
break out of my shell,
stretching out
multi-colored wings
and finally,
flying,
flying,
flying Free.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Frustration
Revelation
Desperation
no Elation,
compounded by
the heavy
Situation...at hand.

Pride
Implied
Simplified
Justified,
truth set
Aside...consolation banned.

Spying
Prying
Dying,
no Edifying,
Defying, while I,
Complying
Intensifying;
some day...must take a stand.

Condescend
Pretend
Offend
Contend,
then a friend to
Comprehend
I Transcend,
lividity's End,
peace will
Ascend...new life to expand.


~ Conclusion ~

Transformation
Purified
Satisfying,
lessons acquired
and generously
Penned.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Woman: “I know you’re there, I always know,
                  so please, come out.
                  We have so much to talk about.”

Child: “I’m just always scared and alone, it
             really hurts to be me.
             All I am is everything they don’t want
             me to be.”

Woman: “You missed out on so much care and
                  affection, but now we can help each
                   other find the right path and direction.”

Child: “Oh, it’s ok.
             I’m never good enough.
             Guess I never really deserved
             love or affection anyway.”

Woman: “Please don’t say that, don’t let’em
                  convince you that **** drivel is
                  true.
                  I’ve known you well, always, and I
                  truly DO...Love you.”

Child: “No matter how I tried, I could never
             please, or do ANYTHING right.
             I’m just SO tired of this fight.”

Woman:” I know, my fragile child, that’s why
                  I’m still learning to be
                  everything you need and needed,
                  you see?
                  Because, my little one, we must
                  both realize and always remember
                  that we are never quite alone...

                  ‘cause I am YOU, and you are ME!”



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

As I sit here
quietly,
thinking,
tears spill for strangers
as I try desperately
to rationalize
(to absolutely NO avail),
the heinous and
morbid act carried out
by this...DAD.
I find my mind,
my heart,
in utter turmoil.

Can’t help but wonder
what their last thoughts were,
what they were feeling.
Did they cry in hysterics,
or (as I was trained to do)
quietly, to themselves?
Did they beg DADDY
for their little lives?
Did they beg DADDY
not to hurt them?
Did the oldest
shield the younger ones,
before the lights went out?

My soul in despair.
My ‘Mother instincts’
just wanna scream,
lash out,
find the monster
and destroy him.
Splay him on a slab,
like t.v.’s
favorite serial killer
would.

Make him pay,
slowly,
a long, arduous,
drawn out
painful DEATH.

It’s but a drop in
the bucket
of what that
fiendish ***** deserves.
His soul is empty,
so, there’s nothing
real to terminate.

The tears flow,
my thoughts in chaos,
and my ‘mothers heart’
mourns them all;
these five little souls
I’ve never met.

I do pray
they come across
my own departed
little boy in Heaven,
and find a joyous place
for them to run and play
and be the children
they weren’t allowed
to be,
before their fragile lives
were cruelly snuffed out
by someone who
was supposed to
love and protect.

They were candles
in the wind,
not meant to
be here long.
This maddening act
makes NO sense
to me;
these daily horrors
that happen in this
dark world
where we all reside,
kills yet another piece
of me,
one wicked story at
a time.

I’m sure every loving parent
and anyone who’s ever
loved a child
would be distraught
and mortified,
as I find myself to be.

I can only think on them
and Pray
that their little souls
will find true
Peace now,
through God’s
passageway.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Plagiarists,
Bullies,
eat the fruits
of Vanity
and Debauchery so profane.

Salaciousness,
Selfishness;
none will ever be the same.

Adultery,
Greed;
not one word of wisdom
do they ever heed.

Pride and
Hedonistic pursuits
are the ways
of our days.

For crimes of
the flesh,
for ****** of spirit
all must
eventually pay.

Made to believe
that you’re less than,
the truly brave are too few.
Taught to accept
there is something
inherently wrong with
YOU.

Right and wrong,
kindness,
forgiveness,
love unconditional,
all seem mere myth
of ages past.

Like a train wreck
just bound to happen,
as wheels spin
much too fast.

‘Always be YOU’;
the ironic advice
of the day,
but inspire any group
the least bit of discomfort,
your country
will throw you away.

Where we’ll end up,
I have not a clue,
but...
what colors
your heart and mind
will tell the world,
either private or public,
a potentially scandalous
slew...

about YOU.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights