Peace, happiness, security-
we reach for these,
but they often
slip from our grasp
as life



                           ­    on


                             and we hit bottom.

Chaos                         around
                    heads      ­             bats

worries crowd in and fill our ears eyes and lungo until they're our every eating moment and we can't breathe as they surround us,

and loss,
coming and going in a flash,
takes us out at the knees,
rips someone from their place
in our hearts,
and leaves us
b  r  o  k  e  n
on the ground
with no way out...


a still, small voice
beckons you
of your pain;
the whisper
of a Father who
and an end to the darkness.

His arms encircle you,
His presence fills you,
His love hushes your pain,
like a mother quieting her child,
changing your tears
of heartache
to those
of awe
that this kind of love
should not only
but be given to you.
And on the heels of love
comes peace.

searing through
every vein,
body brimming with
voltage, head to toe,
that strikes
every nerve simultaneously;
blinding, white hot pain
then blackness.

the piercing spasms
of ten thousand sunburns,
combined with
the unbearable heat
of smothering summer darkness
licks slowly
your legs,
choking, choking
on dry smoke
and the ash of your own body;
screams, melting flesh, can't breathe, can't breathe,
then blackness.

cleaving wrists
and feet,
invasive, bone-deep,
pangs, aches, agony,
as they punch out the other side
and iron
meets beam,
locking limbs in places.
Then lifting,
until you're
hanging by your wrists,
irony grating
and grinding
against bone,
oh so slowly,
suffocating under your own weight,
as muscle and sinew
convert from
to traitors,
turning on you,
and eventually crushing,
your lungs;
minutes      hours              days
then blackness.

Oh, humanity.
Oh, terribly, cruelly creative
So many torturous ways
to kill,
to execute
each other.

- the chair
- the stake
- the cross
- countless, countless others
each more brutal
than the last.
Oh, humanity.

Yet somehow...

the cross left
this darkness
for light,
a symbol of hope for
Men, women, children
draw hope from
the cross.


we know
who it has
murdered - killed - slaughtered
massacred - executed - slain
but didn't
who it
to defeat.
The cross
couldn't defeat

Being called upon
By something
Is all that I need
To live in this world.

Betsy Garris Apr 17

Going through the motions
A vast and blackened ocean
Drinking in this potion
They say is for my best
Breathing in and breathing out
Stagnant air flows through my mouth
Vision fading, thirst like drought
No pause, no peace, no rest.

Awoken from my walking slumber
I reach from my realm of under
For a grasp, for a lover
Of my weary soul
New light breaks through ground and grime
I feel a punctured hand in mine
With whip torn flesh, and spear pierced side
He lifts me from this hole.

Lost sight restored to all fullness
My thirst is quenched, the air now fresh
I see Him there, my soul's found rest
My savior, it is He.
And now I will forever praise
The one who saved my life with grace
How beautiful, the bloodstained face
of Jesus, Lord, and King!

Written in 2012, Edited in 2017.
Glory to God.
For more of my old poetry, check out

Fluttering at shutter speed.
Is it my heart inside my chest,
or my lungs palpitating.

It is my veins.  
Rushing with blood, or collapsing for lack of.

It is my stomach. Eating away its own lining;
Acidic paint splattered across its walls. Whitewashing them
With every sporadic convulsion I feel.

A fortnight,
No sleep.

When I do sleep, I do not sleep.

I am depressed. Unhappy.  Not entertained.  


Questioning every decision I’ve ever made about life,
I inflate with anger.

I think about opportunities passed.

I revolt with envy when I see artists prevail.

I am a miserable fuck brimming with unseen talent.

I miss cigarettes.

I miss cocaine.

Cheap whiskey and grinding my teeth
until 2 in the afternoon when my bloodshot eyes’ll tell you more
than you could ever learn reading my palms.

Fake prophesies of people who never really cared,

and rooms lit up with cheap disco lights and moist carpets.
Perfectly ripened with mildew and sweat and DNA.

The saved lives of unborn infants.

The lucky few.

Ma Cherie Feb 26

A smile hides the searing pain,
pushed up close an cheek to cheek,
her love for him she gives in vain,
a knotted throat she mustn't speak,

People see just what they want,
a beauty with a smiling face,
she hides the bitter truth behind,
her well lit eyes of tempered grace,

It's not she doesn't love him,
she adores his every wrinkle,
it's just she doesn't see the same,
her eyes no longer twinkle,

Hopes they daily deeper go,
to places that she'd rather hide,
she dare not even mention them,
too many minutes to abide,
wanting her to go again,
an not be at his beckon side,
to stay is wrong you say,
does she not have any pride?

She's in the same place over,
an over again-
it seems,
it's Groundhog day,
so she reaches out a tired hand -
again and dreams,
as the alarm again will play,

Her dreams are but a distant place,
a summit she can't reach,
a shore to call her heart back home,
a hauntingly familiar beach
with some shells around her ankle,
an scarring from blood-sucking leach,
painful is the bite you know,
her freedom brought by what it teach,

With her toes beneath-
the wave of coming fortune,
the one he says that cleanses all,
as it dies before it gets to her,
well she thinks that thing has got some gall,

She takes a calming moment,
and the deepest poet's sigh,
as she is ever grateful,
this is not her sad goodbye,

Thankful she was watching,
with the other useful eye,

Safe from certain disaster,
watching the angry wave,
dissipate unto it's own oblivion,

an blessed she can still see -
with her eyes completely shut.

Ma Cherie © 2017

I added some at bottom...Hope it all now makes sense...about an abusive ex that I NEVER wrote about before
Dreaming Liza Feb 22

Oh, the darkness overwhelms
Every minute I'm sinking deeper
It's hard to see the light
When your thoughts are black as night

But then I see your face
An' the shadows dissipate
An' I'm not so alone
You're the one I've been waiting for

Now you've opened up the door
To my sad and scarred soul
An' I'm so thankful
You're the one I've been waiting for

February 21, 2017.
Thinking about turning this into a song. What do you think?

You are cancer cells and
Broken bones and
Shards of glass and
A burnt down home, you
Drowned me out so I couldn't breathe, you
Pulled the rug from right under me, but
I found a life raft out at sea and
Saved myself from everything

Arlene Corwin Feb 16

Rescued Cat
(To Veronica, his rescuer)

This very eve
A cat retrieved
From execution -
(Known as ‘putting it to sleep’
In worlds polite.)

I am relieved.
Others too -
Others who were grieved
At contemplating Mickey’s plight.
(We’ve named him Mickey.
It seems right.)

Every living thing loves life.
Who’d take the life of such a creature?
Harmless, causing not one other creature
Strife?  Well, mice of course:
A course he takes out in the wood,
Hunting out there as he should.

Saved by the bell.
Saved from the hell of being killed
By skilled hands, skilled injections:
“Put to sleep” a healthy, pretty cat rejected.  

Time to cheer.
A darling, eager friend
Consulting friends,
And friends of friends
Until she reached the blessèd end
Of finding little Mick a home.

Cat Rescued 2.15.2017
Cat Book II;
Arlene Corwin

He's saved!

The best part of a shadow
is you know there's Light around.
For the ones who dwell within
you may be lost, but can be found.

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