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

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

YOU who insists on negating
my very stories; my personal
memories...
Who are YOU to make ME out
to be demented,
with the wave of your hand, and
the roll of your eyes and
impatient sighs...
just DISMISSING me,
'cause to you...my thoughts,
my feelings NEVER mattered.

I'm just your daughter...
the Mad Hatter!

You never quite believed
that 'he'...your great love..
could violate me...
so hard for you to believe
how lecherous his hands
could really be.

I've heard through grape vines
to this day, you still need
to deny it,
and when confronted with
this truth, your eyes patronize
as, once again, I imply it.

Harsh lessons were learned
very quick and quite well,
as each time I'd follow your
path into hell.
I learned at too young of an age
how this was your drama,
and I...was your stage...
And no one would save me
but ME.
This was just how it would be.

But you taught me well,
how my thoughts or feelings
never did matter,
'cause I was just your daughter...

the Mad Hatter!




-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

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

~Strength was never a word they
used to describe me

~Too many terrifying nights
borne of a terrifying life

~Ready to run, but having
nowhere to go

~One with all that was pain and
misery and loneliness

~Never straying far enough from
rage, despair, fear

~Given so many chances to fail yet
finding hidden resilience
and a different way
to shine...a candle
in the wind


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

As I walked one day, deep in thought and tasks to be completed, I caught a glimpse
of a wonder that affected my thinking.

There she was, a fragile miracle in between rocks and two slabs of concrete.
Even in the midst of such cold surroundings, she held her head up proudly to the sun
and opened her arms, as if in quiet challenge to the world around her...as if to say
she's here, she's survived the violence of stomping feet, she's survived the harsh
elements and yet sprung forth and managed to shine in a place most others would've
simply withered away....and died.

Her beauty shone through, even in the depth of rocks and two slabs of concrete.
She knew her time was limited, but she also knew that while she had life,
the BEAUTY she was meant to be would emanate...for all to see.

And for me, that turbulent day, she was a smile from God; she was my miracle,
my hope, a small wonder that affected my thinking.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

How DARE you
call me
ANYTHING at all!

What gives you
the right?
Who fed you
sweet lies
and convinced you
“your **** don’t stink”
and you drip
of righteousness?!

SICK...
that’s what
you said, right?

So now I’M sick
merely because
I write and
I’m honest on
these pages,
as I metaphorically
bleed all over
them,
with uncharacteristic
disregard for the mess
I may have made?

Don’t EVER
mistake
poetic sweetness
for mortal weakness.

Maybe YOU’RE
the weak one;
the SICK one.

By the way,
who told you
you could ‘write’...
poetry?

No, I’d really
like to know,
‘cause the gloves
are off.

You started this,
but I will
END it.

I’ll stop here
or I’ll go on
for days,
and do it with a
Cheshire grin
as I tear you
apart.

You wanna see
SICK darlin’?

Come closer...
if you
F**KIN’ DARE!


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

If I could wipe away the tears,
If I could crush the deceitful fears,

to be immersed in Glory;
a renewal of each sorrowful Story.

As I read the words
I feel the tendrils of their pain.

The bleeding hearts,
the bitter, ripping stain.

If I could, I would
save them from the next fall.

A network of seasoned poets
on which each of us could call.

The heart cries out...
‘Love me, don’t leave me,
hold on to me for dear life;
without you I will come undone,
I’ll fall apart!’

You can never give in
or let it distract you,
because...
I, myself, have learned
that often,
what we’ve learned
to see as an ‘end’...

is merely another
new start.


- by Mercurychyld
   Copyrights

The beauty of the day
comes in the guise
of a simple, silky,
smooth cup of
french vanilla coffee.

As frothy liquid descends,
sending sparks of warmth
from my belly to every
nerve,
I am reminded that,
regardless of daily
requirements or chores,
to always, take some
time, for myself.

In this cup is where the
beauty of my day begins.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Meet me in the Night
where stars and skies would frolick
we'll sway to their drums


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Taken on a journey along the
expeditious jugular vein of
this existence, at a moment's
notice, with nary a warning,
I am seldom privy to the exact
location or final destination
of my numerous and dizzying
stops on the many roads of
this life.

I can only hope and pray for
the obvious illumination of
all that I am meant to see,
the clarity of mind with which
to appreciate it all, and the
wisdom to understand and
then impart the riddles,
thereby extending the best
of myself forward into this
vast universe.

This is my wish...as I sail along
this journey.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Words are the life's blood
of a writer; just as technique
is to a prize fighter.

With our words we can
commemorate each other,
while in the same breath,
obliterate another.

A thousand words would
still not be enough to quench
a lover's desire; even the most
sensual lyric would only begin
to stoke that fire.

I, for one, use words as a
pathway by which my heart,
mind and soul communicate;
and with each verse, my
inner world, I choose to
illuminate.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright

You'll always remember
he'll not disappear,
keep the moments so tender
held at heart, always near.

When your eyes flow with tears
as in moments they might,
let them flow without fears
and hold those memories tight.

As in time you move on toward a new life
those fresh events will never obscure your past,
just try to relinquish the reins on old strife
for your life is still full and remembrance is vast.

You've endured and survived the pain
and one day you'll come to know it wasn't in vain.




By Mercurychyld
Copyrights

My sweet boy-what can't I say about you; about what
You mean to me?
I NEVER wish to forget those three weeks, and eight
months before that, that we spent together.
I was your vessel, your shelter, your link to the outside
world. You fluttered inside me; a constant reminder
of the life I carried within. I looked so forward to making your acquaintance and
finally see, with my own eyes, this little person with
whom I had come to fall deeply in love with.
I felt joy at all your acrobatic twists and turns.
But you were born too early, too small, so fragile.
Your little intestines became infected beyond help-
and you, little one, would not survive.
I only had but three weeks with you.
These would be the most beautiful, agonizing days,
hours, minutes of my life.
You took with you, forever, a central piece of
my heart that nothing or no one here can ever fill.
But I know that one day, I will finally shower you
with all the hugs, kisses and I-love-you's I didn't get to
give you here on this earth.
You are my link to Eden, my little one.
You still live...forever...inside of me,
just where you began.


by Mercurychyld
8 June 06
(dreaming of my boy....)

Copyrights

I think about him often,
but he doesn’t know it.

I wonder how it
would feel to
touch his lips and
melt into him,
but he’ll never know it.

My mind wanders
and goes for long walks
in a fantasy world
of ‘could be’s’ and
‘why nots’ and
wonders how it
would be to just
show up where he resides.

What would his reaction be,
would he even recognize me,
would he pull me inside,
not say a word
but push me up against
a wall, his body pressed
into mine, his lips on
mine
kissing me ferociously,
desperately?

I’ve never met him,
but I miss him when
he’s gone,
but he doesn’t know it.

I long to feel him,
taste him, hear his voice,
and feel the heat
of his whispers
in my ear,
and the scorching burn
of his passion
on my skin.

I long to see the fire
In his eyes
and witness all
the stories he holds
but never tells.

I long to watch him
light up when he
searches and finds
me in a crowd.

I want to tattoo
him into my memory
and never forget,
and never let go,

but he’ll never know it.


~ by Mercurychyld
Copyright 24 July 14

I suspect...
the lights burned out
long ago,
the heart stopped
beating,
the lips stopped
parting to speak,
the hands stood
still,
as the mind
wandered.
I suspected...
though you lacked
courage to tell.
The irony is, your
grandest display
of disgrace
delivered me my
greatest liberation,
for the gloves
have come off,
the masks have
fallen,
the lies have
ceased, and I
can finally clearly
see what truly
lives...
behind your eyes.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Envisioning, so desperately, the one desire of my deepest heart--to once again be filled
with 'life'; to hear the beauty in a voice that calls me 'Mom'.


I lay with him, even though I felt the repugnance rising to a scream--but I saw only my
desire; I thought only of my possible reward at the close of this act.


I fantasized of another face, to get me by. I imagined other hands exploring me. My
companion too was excited, I could tell, and ready for the mission, when suddenly it
all came to a screeching halt; the fantasy ruined... when.......................he SPOKE!




by Mercurychyld
Copyrights