Blood stained eyes Gaze upon innocents sleeping form, Malevolent intent spoils the promise of blissful slumber.
Beauty immeasurable, As naive eyes twitch with dreams of purity and grace.
Seething abhorrence guides twisted hands towards violent deeds.
Warm sweet breath exhales from un-kissed lips, Wet with remembrance and anticipation Of life’s wonders yet to be lived.
Horrifying screams from now waken eyes, As an incestuous destruction of one’s self is committed And the very soul of god is ripped from the now ruined vessel Of what was once, Innocent’s sleeping form.
Can I go back into my mother's **** & be born again? No, but you can have *** with your mother & feel like **** for the rest of your life. You can be an unborn born again suicide. Just how is mom supposed to feel about this? She doesn't want to hurt your feelings so she may let you feel her up after a few strong drinks. Even if she remembers, she'll never mention it to anyone out of sheer embarrassment & shame; logic being, if a similar situation occurs, she would do the same thing & let you get in a few good gropes & maybe even **** her **** for old times sake. O Mom!
The flowered bed sheets of the motel where we lay he showed no mercy on the Atlantic coast used me again and kissed me.
I only remembered the oceans roll and the visions of a unshaved beard, the feeling of dread when he locked the door and unzipped his jeans.
Sandcastle fell over and the sharks swam away watching the walkway from the motel bedroom, waiting for him to come back an let me out.
This is a ****** of a child's innocence and he held it over the seas the shadow of my life changes into bone until my ****** becomes a whole other being, so powerful it gave me an STD at the age of 11. Thoughts are doubled in my head and the dark air has no name.
I call out for who may be there but nobody answers, only the step-step-stepping of my uncle coming in the motel for more.
But we trod grapes and paddled on, Through a neap tide of Sauvignon, Drowning our disappointment in drink, Above a pale octopus poached in its own ink.
Castaway and stowaway using another name, Fantasies swapped on the website that we blame, Until in the blood-black sea we agree to give it a try, And I wash up in the morning beneath my mother's palid thigh.
I opened my grandmother. The Universal is independent. To the vast expanse of this great world I opened her way. Still, the stories that I am telling you She is more likely to hear. I am late She would have been full of trouble. Cutting the grains of mango, worshiping the mule's ****, Looking closely at the sunset She would have been silently painting for a long time. The birds that had come near to to see, The sono-rama was very shocking to me. In the nights of the rainy season, rain and dew on our skin When the sound is singing one and the same She was shaky. but She liked poetry; My poems, so I left them for her; my grandmother. She grew her cooch's hair as if it was grandfather's beard. Now her spread wings seek the eternity of the beginning and I fly into her. Her dreams will be the grass beneath the rain. In the waving wheat's hum; where Ants walk. In the wrinkled cage that is open, there was a rain of the deceased only a feather is wet. A gift for a bequest. Remember it !! Take it! I opened up my paternal grandmother. Despite knowing she may not be breathing, She will not come.
reworked from BIJU SOMAN PUNNOORETH's Oct 2015, എന്റെ തത്തമ്മ
****** **** such a tragedy. Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity. Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden. A sin so scandalous so forbidden. This secret is the reason for some insane things. Punishment on our Nation it brings. Stop the transgress it’s time to progress to detest the ugliness of ******. The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness Crimes within the family. Outcry why oh God why. Emotions cry spirits die. Survival with scars somehow. Child kept secrets at least for now. Innocent sweet nectar just taken. Abused shattered then forsaken. Inwardly hating the humiliation. Lingering curse. Bound to be rehearsed. A bloodline search, unthought-of curse our generation. How can we cleanse this crime from our nation. Child **** such outrage of wickedness. Such a corruptible trespass. Men ******* after little boys. Using them as ****** toys. Outcry iniquity. Loss of innocent purity. Killers of purity, thieves, bandits doings malicious things in secrecy. Abused children in mind body and spirit. Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it. Legal laws. Often with flaws Putting children in harms way. Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay. Courts judicial systems poor outcome. Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done It’s a unhealed spiritual condition. Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction. Wrongful unthinkable vexation. Impure affections of ****** connection. Between the bloodlines. Children with Children sexually learned crimes. Scares of a lifetime. People wake up let us not be blind. I beg you I pray. Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
Outcry, need to protect our innocent ones. Prayers uplifted, rebuking the hidden crimes.