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Man Aug 23
I've listened to the Jamaicans wail
Englishmen too
The Africans & Asians the same
And of my own kinsmen, the Irish, have I heard long cry
Of their lowlands
Mother or Father
Babes we are, to the branch whose fruits we partake
Ready for fight, readily we die
To cut down the lecherous head
Of the beasts that stalk
Be ye a Great Kingdom or States United
No union knows our unity
For we cannot be organized
We are grassroots
We are the homeland
For when your troubles have become foreign
Be domestic
Raeann Jul 6
Days screaming  
Nights waiting
Smleling of strangers
Shaded glances
Queston's unanswered
Moons departure suns gleam awaken
wounds forgiven thoughts receding
First draft
Laiba Jul 5
She saw him
My mother saw him her abuser
Eye to eye they stared at each other
For him to laugh and look down in embarrassment
For her to leave all shaken up
Now her kids are too terrified to leave home
Incase they see him...
My mum saw my dad he didn't speak to her just laughed at her
She didn't speak to him but 6 years later she saw him and I'm now too terrified to leave but I'm strong we will get though it
Laiba Jun 27
I was born in this world without a choice.
if i knew  what my life was going to be no doubt would i have chosen not to exist.
Born into two people who claimed that one was my mother and one was my father
because  being a mother or a father isn't just producing a fetus its about living up to the role
None of mine did.
No choice but to grow up to fast
by age 5 i was hiding knives and tablets preventing my mothers suicide attempts
running around and crashing into that monsters soul
afraid i would  take two steps back
and he would take two steps forward
he would hold my hand and take me to my mother
the rest is a blur
all i know was i would see her naked body and him next to her.

Cold heated shouts blew me away
drowned me in none other then sadness and fear
my siblings become like my children
who i tried to protect
but we would come together to keep each other safe.
the routine of hiding knives become a game we made
social services meant to care or to protect?
watched the monster silence us and left us and deemed it was  safe
safe despite watching the "parents" argue
safe despite  him being cautioned  and kept away for beating my sister when she was 7
who knew these services would later be the reason why innocent  lives were sacrificed for a cycle of abuse that would never seem to end....
a poem i wrote on a very dark day....
There is 2
One is Zoey
Black and fat
One is Battle
Grey and tall
Russian blue
Can be moody
loves to be petted
Short hair domestic
Eats alot
needs attention
but must have her space
Characters they are
So opposite
So alike
it's quite fun
having these two
they are my joy
they give me
alot to look forward to
I know they care
No matter what
These 2 cats
really are so special
we are family
I got them
and they got me to
I love these 2 cats
they are so cool
They know I love them
They are kinda spoiled
but deserve it
that much is true
These 2 cats
My 2 cats
© Jennifer L DeLong 🦏
selina Mar 8
the walls cave in quick
my wrists sink into the bed
the lights are flashing red
i guess this is the end

your lips, they worshipped
me a century ago
but now, they leave bruises
treasure maps along my throat

hospital white walls
but the floor's littered with cigarettes
and underneath these cold sheets
is a familiar sense of regret

"sorry," you'll say
and we'll make up again
"sorry," you'll say
and i'll come back again
A major, B major
E major (B on bottom), B major, A major
Spicy Digits Feb 17
I made myself so.
So small
For so long
So talk over me,
I won't mind,
I made myself so.

So quieten me,
If it's what you need.
A speechless soul,
I silenced myself so.

Daddy didn't see you
So take your aim
Argue and I will cower.
I taught myself so.

Spread corrosive untruth,
Use me and chew me out,
I oppressed myself so.

I see the end light,
And imminent reprieve.
So do what you like,
I'll make myself so.

Try to unpeel my skin,
Titanium dermis,
Beating bass drum,
Gold flecked arteries,
Narcissus shikari,
Lover of innocence,

I made myself so.
Wrapped in love
Changes one.

Whether it is for the better,
I know not.

Hard to believe
In easy love

When emotional scars
Still cloud the mind.

Wrapped in your arms
Feedback that binds.

Easy to believe
In compromise.

I am changing,
I know that now.

Do not throw in the towel,
I will gladly fold mine.
A Monster with Roses

A monster with roses in his hands,
is still a monster,
and he will force-feed you thorns,
sugarcoated and chocolate dipped,
turning your window eyes
bloodstained and cracked.
Then leaves you when he chooses,
your soul sickened, body broken
and bleeding upon the floor.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
If you like this poem, I have two published collections of poetry available on Amazon “ Musing On The Cricket Game of Life Part 1 1/2” and “An Extravagant Way of Saying Nothing “
What truly haunts me at night is my own screams.

They swirl around my throat and make it hard to breathe.

Causing me to gasp and lose focus on my reality.

Delirious, I become trapped in a memory that will not leave me be.

Images form in my head by laying each slab of evidence down piece by piece.

Forcing me to relive every raw feeling and emotion that has occurred since the beginning.

But I sit here and wonder what things are like from your perspective.

What did my body feel like when you slammed me into the wall?

Did you care about me when you were inflicting my pain?

How much did you love me when you scattered inky blotches throughout my body's surface?

Maybe, I was in the wrong.

Maybe, I did bring it on to myself for putting you in that position.

Is that the reasoning that you used to justify why you forced yourself onto me?

At least that is the  statement you used to growl at me when you silenced my screams.

Did you ever feel emotions when the viewing the tears stream from my empty eyes?

Did you ever feel pain from my nails clawing at your flesh?  

Did you ever get tired of hitting me after I tried relentlessly to fight back?

Did you get satisfaction from my pain?

Do you think of me or the damage that you caused?

Do you ever regret the memories that you made churn around my mind?

I ask myself these questions after each replay of my memory.

Although it's been years, you still have control over a part of me.

My only hope is that you too are haunted by my screams.
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