Poetic T Nov 2018
We should never
bribe death,
       for this is a futile gesture.

We should pay life
       its dues,
      and live every breath we paid for.
Tala Oct 2018
And she realizes
What a mess
She has become
For trying to gain
Everyone's approval
That even
Her shadow
Left her
In the dark.
eleanor prince Sep 2018
(contains references to sensitive issues)

She’s just a babe
he’s only two
of youth refill
they’re broken in

but leave no mark  
so they're unspoiled
for clients booked
it's all arranged

no tracks you'll leave
their brain's not through
not 'til they’re three
so chill out dame

the program works
divert impel
‘'you crazy sh-t
here take this pill’

nobody hears
if told some tales
but they won't talk
their lips are sealed

from dot they’re trained
they’re here for us
don't have to guess
‘you talk, you die!’

so pay the fee
their price is high
and bring this dog
they’ll do it all

and shouldn’t you
take all you're due
you work real hard-
on nectar sup
Stop! Not so quick
for veils can lift
and imprints made
don’t ever die

archival facts
reveal themselves
when day arrives
you’ll face the Judge

and when you breach
a petal new
it injures both
and gear stick shifts

you've soiled life's bed
with squalid stains
now own the Sh-t
says mirror man


             
From time to time an instance comes to light involving well-organized abuse at an almost unimaginable level.  Children from a very young age are trained to provide all manner of ****** services to meet the demands of deviant and sadistic clients.  Contrary to what people may think, this happens not just in so-called 'third-world countries,' but in more prosperous lands too.  

Even where there is significant corroboration for the veracity of such accounts, survivors can suffer the further indignity of not being believed.  There is some movement and improvement in knowledge but more needs to be acknowledged and understood, not only by colleagues and other professionals providing care, but society at large.  

It all makes one ponder what leads a perpetrator to act this way.  Whilst it helps to understand some act out trauma they themselves received, it is unacceptable behaviour, is still a criminal offence - and it hurts others.   We all have choice to decide ahead what we would do if offered an easy way to cross that line.  Decency requires we resolve to remember who we want to be in essence and retain this reality check:  how would I feel if this was my wife, my child?   Refuse to abuse another.  

Some boundaries simply should never be breached, even if one is promised immunity from repercussions, e.g. told 'the child won't remember – it won’t hurt them.'   Many victims do remember and either way, such incursions rob them of a normal life, something many take for granted.  The truth is they are massively, negatively affected on one level or another, often in multiple ways, at whatever age such incursions take place.  

The reality is that transgressing on another's boundaries on any level not only harms the recipient but also those violating others.  It alters and destroys something in the offender, immediately recognizable or not, and by extension the wider community is affected.  

On looking in the mirror an offender may see at best a deluded half-life.  As my poem concludes, who would want to be meeting that inner witness to their corrupt and heartless behaviour, their real character looking back at them through the 'man* in the mirror...'

*(either gender can offend - some women sexually abuse too.  When a perpetrator takes a good look in the mirror of reality, they may well find themselves  confronted with the enormity of what they have done, and who they have become)
Michael Sep 2018
One day I may be made to pay.
To pay for the crimes of my past
To pay for all the pieces of broken heart
To pay for it all.
If I could travel through time and change the past I would.
I would repair and repay all the damage that I caused.
I would undo all the destruction
And bring order to the chaos
Unfortunately I am unable to travel back in time,
Instead I am just waiting.
Waiting for the day they come and take me
For the day I have to give retribution
For the day I have to forfeit my own life
For the day I get what I’m owed
For the day you get what you need
On that day it will be the end of me.
One day we all pay for our crimes, no matter how big or small.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
I've heard the Ides of March
can be a deathly curse

but now the Ides of April near us
with uncle's fingers in one's purse.

works out fine
if you get some back
you're hurriedly
filling out
those pesky forms
and rushing out
to mail them
that's what
it's all about

but if you know
you're gonna owe
it's quite a different story
you're just not in a hurry
it's yours for now
though no cash cow
you drag your feet a little
before sending in
your confounded
tax remittal
hannah Feb 2018
I know what it feels like
To be
laughed at,
to feel worthless
to be told to **** myself
to be late to class just to avoid my bullies
to ask teachers for help and not get help
I hate to say it but if I had the chance to make them pay for what they did, I would
I don't understand why anybody would feel the need to push someone past their breaking point. I have been bullied before and everybody told me to forgive and forget but it's my choice so what if I don't want to forgive and forget.
Zane Gorham Apr 2017
Dear Harlot
You kept my soul in check.
The loneliness encased was spent.
Wonders of unending flesh.
And yet the scent is fleeting.
The seclusion returns afresh.
The ethereal heart deceiving.

What once brought sweet memories.
Now are void parentheses.
My empty arms are bare.
In addition a cadaverous stare.
Skin cold with horripilation.
Trudging on in desolation.

I long for comfort I confess.
To the skies I do profess.
For on the ground my feet shall stay.
Am I worthy whose to say.

Another harlot.
Anther day.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.

A glimpse of her visage I pray.
Solitude is how I pay.
I wrote this thinking of the regret after a long period of loving someone you wish you could repay for the things unforgiven.
Poetic T Mar 2017
I collected the currency of my failings inserting voices  
into the deluge of my figurine dancing on the precipice
of my tainted visage.

But I was short of necessitates, fraudulent reimbursement
was reincorporated, and I was woven unwept as the distresses
of what I had done wove upon my silhouette.

Blank verses were woven on my pools of sky blue, now vacant
only snow flakes of nothingness fell on my perception.
I was not as before I was whole but concussed in creation.

Interwoven, incomplete essences of me. I wasn't that which
was reflected outwards, all that was now interlaced in an
abomination of false reflections and I paid the ultimate price.
Pax Feb 2017
there's a price
to every choice
not every payment
equates money.
Dear Readers,
I always thought that every decision we made is a free one. But now i realized that it is not the case, there will always be something of a price or a higher effort that equates every move & choices we make. Some are visible to perception and some are unseen, never noticed. It is like cause and effect, or you paid this to gain that or every choices has its own consequences either good or bad.

Thanks for reading ...

Bethany G Blicq Dec 2016
Some people give away their body freely,

And keep their heart locked away.

I cannot say the same for myself.

Both are priceless,

Not free.

My heart belongs to many,

But the rest of my body belongs only to me.


"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless -- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." - C.S. Lewis

I found this quote on my own facebook profile from a while back. It still rings true to me and accompanies this post well. I have been thinking about vulnerability and forgiveness a lot lately.

Someone replied saying that the quote is very pessimistic, but I disagreed. What I said, to be exact...

"Well now... only from a pessimistic point of view. I think it redeems the value of love and points out why we let ourselves love, because even if there's a chance of getting hurt it's better than letting your soul rot in isolation. So you see, I think it's optimistic."
Written in 2016
Bethany G. Blicq
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