"defenceless" poems
Sara L Russell 5/12/2015
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How can birds sing, if taken from the meadow?
Cloistered away in silent fear
envious of the boundless skies
Even her wings are held earthbound
defenceless is she, and silent as the grave.
✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿
What sun may rise for she who walks in shadow,
the blackness that makes her disappear
hidden away from prying eyes
Too fearful to make the smallest sound
accepting of pain, and living as a slave.
✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Draped in boundless pride
she strolled along the streets,
the town's flamboyant prima ballerina.
Still little did the debaucher know her.
Defenceless she laid
as he spanked and clouted her,
Her vehement howling and wailing couldn't stop
the yanking of clothes.
Motionless, emotionless she laid
while he plundered and mutilated her body.
Vandalised by an uninvited visitor,
Incapable of moving her body
the ravishing ballerina reclined.
The scars he made was not on her body but deep in her soul.
That gloomy night whistled away
for the sun to flare its first ray.
'18 year old violently molested and deceased'.
Hence the prima ballerina became a mere newspaper headline.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
.
And I sit there
All ear, head to feet
Dear
Listening to his footsteps
As if a Santa Clause waiting for his deer
Painting his majesty
Through defenceless eyes' pastels
Asking for aid,
O' holy hands
There, hassles
I see a purple heart
Hiding blue dropes of hopes
as if a mask was to keep my face look like mokes
Over the balcony
Amongst the trees
Saw a friendly shadow
Of my ever lasting companion, on knees
O' Thy honor sir black hat gray shadow!
Real illusion, of whom art thee?
Chasing me through the looking glass balcony
Never mind, promise, not to miss a symphony...
.
Farzaneh.Qāf
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
More fickle than the seasons
fragile like thawing ice
attached with a firm grip
clutching like a baby’s hand.
Desperate but never dangerous
susceptible yet not defenceless
acquiescent, though a fool.
They are the simpleton’s
that embrace counterfeit fables,
illusions of promise
And at the end
that makes them break
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 8:21 AM UTC
He had a habit of forgetting
That the knife should be
At his left,
Unlike others.
Every morning, she would
mechanically
switch the fork with the knife.
When they finished lunch
she started clearing up
and noticed the knife to his right
again.
That night,
after their routine drew to a close,
They talked.
Slowly, at first.
A touchy subject walks in.
It's time.
Even as the air is knocked from her lungs,
She gets up and scrabbles on the floor.
Nails scratching the carpet.
Eyes scanning the horizon, now black.
Her brain decides to get up,
Her body disobeys.
Her body disobeys.
Isn't that what put her here in the first place?
So what if she is pretty?
So what if her eyes are sparkling emeralds?
Her belly renders her defenceless
from his onslaught.
Isn't it her fault
that it is empty?
Isn't she wrong to want
independence from him?
Mentally, physically, emotionally?
He owned her, didn't he?
He owned her, didn't he.
He explained to her the benefits
of obeying.
Her pretty face wouldn't have been
all those ungainly shades of black.
Her eyes wouldn't have been encircled by blue.
All she had to do was obey
and not tell anyone
but obey.
Her brain rebelled.
Her brain rebelled.
Her body, for once, obeyed.
She stumbled through the hallway
She knocked down her favourite frame-
Their daughter on a pony.
Kitchen, her sanctuary.
She broke her favourite China.
Hurled her utensils.
"I arranged them last week, you *****
And then she saw them.
The knives.
The knives.
They were inviting
Her hands were pale, waiting.
His heart corrupt, hating.
"Knives to your left, darling."
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Saw a single clover...
Peeking out from the crack in the wall.
All alone... With no other.
Shivering in the wind.
Still it braved the unknown.
Just to see...
What was shown.
Touched the single clover.
So much courage within something so small,
so green and frail.
Standing tall in the torrential gale.
So much I could take and learn from it.
I shall make it my daily inspiration.
I shall leave it be.
So that on my daily walk back,
it could say to me,
*"I'm still here, you are too.
Let's keep on, keeping on,
till our days are through."*
On my walk back today,
I have looked forward to see the clover I've learnt to adore.
Only to find that it had gone missing...
It just wasn't there anymore.
The crack was vacant...
I looked all around.
I finally looked down...
And there it was on the ground.
A twisted corpse of what once was...
The storm earlier had ripped it off its perch.
The winds had overcome and left it in the lurch.
Grounded and defenceless,
It quickly became the target of many footsteps
belonging to people too oblivious.
The clover is dead.
But it's still so green.
As I looked at it,
I imagined what it would have said,
*"Keep on, keeping on.
You won't truly know...
You won't really learn...
And life won't show,
if you get too afraid of the storm.
And then you won't grow.
Stick your head out
and never be too scared...
To see and be a part of the wonders of the world
that the universe has infinitely shared."*
.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
A day will certainly come
As sure as we breathe
When our creator will ask of us
What we did to aid the oppressed
On that day
As surely as who created you
Created me too
It will not be about religion but humanity
When carefully planned and organised jets
Launched rockets
To bomb populated refugee camps
Schools and apartment blocks
At a defenceless opposition
Without an air force or navy
Heavy weapons or artillery
Command or armour
**That's not war
It's ******
It's cold blooded massacre**
As a woman shot in the stomach
Gives birth to a cold blue baby
And a world across oceans changes channels tuning in to the next world cup champion
It was never about taking sides
Israel vs Palestine
There is a truth
To which we must remove the blindfold of ignorance
Searching for a voice of right
Amongst the cries of pain hatred and anger
The sign in a city
Where there is too much to see
Finding peace amongst people who are not ours
Because I see hypocrisy of nations
Who stand for human rights
But only when the human shares a matching ideology
I see hypocrisy amongst media
Where a million wounds and shades of blood
Are inked into black and white letters
Today I read 'An Israelian was killed whilst a dozen Palestinians died'
They turned humans into numbers
Quantitative data
They couldn't possibly de-sensitize it any further
I mean look at the verbs in which they phrased that
I see hypocrisy amongst Muslims
Who stand equal and united
Yet they too turn backs when the interest is not beneficial
And the pitiful nation falls divided
Whether it is a prayer
A strike, a boycott or vigil
A protest or petition
Maybe even a donation
There's a thousand ways to help
But very few who do
So what did you do?
Was it out of sight out of mind for you?
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Fingerprints are like relationships
they leave a trace.
Your fingerprints are all over me
The whorls of your prints are seared into my skin
Into my soul.
I submit each time you touch me
set aflame by your caress.
Spiral patterns of you criss cross my body,
Your body.
Sparks of need jump from your fingertips
arcing into me, possessing, caressing,
they leave me breathless and defenceless
to the onslaught that will leave me inevitably,
wrecked upon our bed, like a trapped ship on the shore.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
Death is not a destination.
Death is encompassing.
I smell it when I breath in the rusty stench of blood on my fingers.
I feel it in the pain that reverberates with each step
as if I had driven a nail into the bottom of my boot and I felt it every time it hit the floor.
Death is not a destination.
It's woven into the fabric of my skin,
using a thread so thin
it echoes the line between what makes me a bad person and a good person who does bad things.
It echoes the line between life and death but in a different way to the finishing line of a race because
death is not a destination.
It's the ball of rage that is fired up within me
at the slightest of things.
A reminder that I can't ever escape but can't quite tick off my list.
Death is not a destination but a feeling deep within me
and no matter how far I reach with my sharpened blade
I will never find.
Besides, I can no longer wish death upon the body I spent painful years learning to love,
the defenceless pulse nor my eager heart.
Death is not a destination,
but it is mine.
Whether it be warm or cold
it will welcome me.
I will be entering myself,
the most secret crevices that I found
the day the sadness took hold.
I will escape.
I will be free.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
He told me we were hanging out with a group
but he came up to my door alone
said the others couldn’t make it.
I said okay and we went to the moonlight playground
as he poured ***** down my throat.
my body was urging the poison back out
as I cried. I ran and I sprinted
but the fence seemed enclosing
I was stuck in a nightmare all I had were the stars.
after that night I didn’t like stars as much.
alone I lay there in the wet brown grass
rain joining my teardrops I couldn’t see
I couldn’t scream. When I thought it was over
people started looking at me. they thought
I was the ***** and he just hit it and quit it.
Haunted by a vampire
draining truth down my throat
I lost all pieces of myself
offering my roaring willpower to him
the sweat of his touch infiltrates
my defenceless skin
but I didn’t scream
his ****** hands dragging as if I were *** on wheels.
and one day I will be oh-
so tall and with my gathered tears
i will build a water wall
nor paddle nor wind for I
will be flying
with a cast of all those with prisoner tongues marching behind me.
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC
It is always difficult to describe depression,
There are so many interpretations
That people hold,
This is my own.
You're standing on the cliffs edge,
Looking out towards the horizon of life,
Then you see the storm clouds rolling in,
The thunderous roars of trepidation
And the lightning bolts of painful reminiscence
Mirroring the silver scars on your skin,
Then the mighty winds of worthlessness
Hauls you over the edge.
The cool air brushes against your face
As you descend towards the black water below,
Every inch of you is screaming for you to stop
But you can't,
You have lost complete control and you are weak,
Defenceless,
Vulnerable,
Amidst the whistling winds in your ears
You hear the names, the bullying,
The cries of disappointment,
The reminiscent sound of ***** against porcelain,
You hit the water and shatter the surface
And you pray that you have stopped,
Things will bet better ,
But instead you continue to sink,
Numb, cold, aching,
You want to cry but you feel so empty,
Like the bitter sting of the salty ocean
Has clinged to your skin and draws out
The last ounce of feeling you had left to hold on to,
You stare at the surface,
Wide eyes desperately searching for rescue,
The fractured refraction of a flare in the stormy sky,
A hand to plunge into the water and pull you out
And revive you.
I have been fortunate enough to be pulled from
The ocean,
Revived countless times
After feeling like I will spend eternity
Living in the shipwreck of my insecurities.
It is my duty to scour the world and throw a life ring
To every lost soul who deserves to be atop the
Cliffs edge where they can once again watch
Another hopeful sunrise of hope break on the
Mundane horizon.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
Some are cast in metal
others chipped from stone
yet more are shaped by hand in clay
what you sculpt, you own.
When your arms wrapped around me
I felt a process start
to render me defenceless
'gainst your sacred art.
I yielded to your motion
gave my skin up to the blade
had no cause to resist
the image you had made.
My essence pooled in trickles
flooding indents as you pressed
your fingertips into my flesh
there in rapture, I was blessed.
I yearned to feel the chisel
every scrape an evolution
each fetter of the holy rasp
my growing absolution.
I stand in gleaming marble
posed by you alone
forever on this pedestal
inert upon my throne.
In fatal love I slumber
and wishes are for fools
in luminescent, aching stone
naked of your tools.
Each tapping point a petal,
the slamming maul of lust
where once caressed by chisels
now I gather dust.
I dream of you approaching
to polish me anew
so I may shine in constant thanks
at being made by you.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Trauma lives on in our bodies
In sometimes unexpected places
It doesn’t just reside
In the malfunctioning lump
Of electrified meat
Encased in my skull
Each part of my body
Seems independently determined
To avoid
To protect me from
Vulnerable or defenceless moments
When the speaker at a training event
Asks the participants in the room
To close their eyes
Partake in a thought experiment
The trauma resides in my eyelids
Which I cannot will to shut
I stare down at the floor
Eyes open in unwilling resistance
The simple act of closing them
In a room full of strangers
Is more than my body can bear
When going on long car rides
The trauma resides in my jaw
Compulsively chewing gum
To stop myself falling asleep
In the passenger seat
Maybe I can retain
Some small semblance of control
Over my body
Over what happens to it
As long as I remain awake
As long as I remain alert
The trauma resides
In that small space near my nape
Where your fingers curled
That one time
Sinking into my flesh
Leaving marks for days
On the rare occasions
I let anyone close enough
To touch me there
It feels as though
My entire spine erupts
Shooting out jagged barbs of panic
Isn’t it funny how we can train our brain
To forget things
To bury things where they cannot be retrieved
But they will still linger on
In another form
Imprinted into our very bones and muscles
Sometimes I find myself thinking
How nice it will be
To finally be free of this body
Which stopped feeling like my own
Long ago
Do what you like with my body
When I am dead
I tell people
As though
They hadn’t already while I was alive
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
The eagle searches, circling, senses strum like spider silk.
Sorrow’s scent slides up on a sea breeze.
A solitary slave spits sullenly into the spray.
Silently, suddenly, the sentinel streaks down.
Beak breaks skin, breaches bone, crimson blots the ocean’s foam.
Defenceless, relentless, the bird blurs in a barrage of blood.
Banished, betrayed, the ravaged titan sways -
between the rocks that form his cage.
His foe retreats; a closing caw as crooked claws cleave meat.
Head bowed in defeat, our hero strains as chains bind
hands and feet.
Enduring bonds cut deep and bleed him bittersweet.
Cast against the crags,
this castaway’s castigated cries call out
to no-one.
Chastised, he squints with hollow eyes
towards a lifetime of the bird’s reprise.
Furious. Fists flex,
thrashing against his fortress.
Face furrowed into a frown he flings forward
and for once finds his foot…
unfettered.
Bindings broken, his bonds bite terra firma,
as first a foot and then a hand finds favour.
Boundless, he bellows at the sky
as the flotsam of his freedom floats on by.
Reprieved. Aggrieved. He is restless in release.
An errant righteous line repeats.
Relentless in its beat, it rings out like raw steel on teeth.
A ricochet that disturbs his sleep
“Is this victory, or defeat?”
Racked by reminiscence,
his reality and responsibility remain.
Warped roots rammed down
with rock-filled boots.
Resistance seems obtuse against such reoccuring fruit.
Reluctant, resigned, he rattles out a sigh -
the last gasp of this transitory high.
Reaching for the rope and tack he re-binds the knots
that hold him back.
With one last glance towards the past
he hoists his soul upon the mast.
Ceaselessly.
Senselessly.
The
sentinel
streaks
down.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
I am sharpening my teeth,
preparing for the taste of
your flesh,
I am hesitant to take the first
bite, but I have a hunger that
nothing else will satisfy,
(revenge, revenge)
I am a creature of hate, now,
I am what you made me,
what you moulded me
into with your
bare hands. Toss back
the sheet and lay down
your gun,
show them what you
really are, open up
the scars you've forged
into my skin,
branded into my thighs,
white hot and stinging.
You say it's what I asked
for, with my ***
soaked lips,
but you knew how
the story would end
before you had even
seen me
knew the weight of your hand
smothering a scream
you came to me armed
and I was defenceless
but I am no longer
gunless
my bullets will hit your
heart, and I will forget
your smell, I will
shake of your
stale breathe
I'm not here to forgive you
(This story is mine)
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
As the sun reaches it zenith & the moon becomes full,
Soldiers are deployed at various point,
Allowing their thought to wander away into ephemeral violence,
Well armed,
Red pointers at human sight,
killing in the pretence of liberation,
Defenceless civilians murdered in sight,
I don't have the adequate vocabulary to constructively & emotionally create that atmosphere,
As a poet they don't mind if I make a sound
But it's a real problem
if I ever get too loud,
It enrages me,
I'm bitterly miffed,
Imagine the agony, stress, depression & tension they are
going through,
Let's be factual,
Their based desire & legitimate purpose is to associate ,affiliate & standardize us as terrorist,
They come in front of our tv & give us speech our forefathers have never heard of,
Humanity in it eternity have been blindfolded & deviated from the truth,
They have become the fixed & Luminous center around which innumerable lifestyle revolves,
Civilization will not lead mankind to insanity,
It feels good to be in power ,
But a day will come when they will ponder, reflect & introspect,
but their reflection will be to no avail,
Reflect over what I say,
In silence & tranquillity,
We may be on a Long arduous journey,
But victory is to the oppressed,
Categorically & selectively speaking ,
It will become a practical reality,
Innocent souls are been lost everyday,
In pakistan,Syria,Iraq,Iran
Yet the conference continues,
Killings intensifies,
Women are murdered,
Fathers are slaughtered,
Kids are held captive some rigorously excluded,
Without them labouring humanity searching for peace will perish,
It's a sad time we live in,
Educated leaders with no heart of human sympathy,
Acting upon their based desires & ego,
You may call this character assassination,
I call it supreme words of justice
Only time will tell who is the true terrorist
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
Here is a tale of blood, guts and war
The war is over but its still raging within
I can hear the bombs going off,hear the screaming as they hit the ground.
I’m back in Rhode Island Street, Highland Park, Detroit.
War has turned my heart to stone.
Now that you're gone I live alone, in this empty home remembering every word you've said.
Didn't bother to learn to become a father, old school all the way.
A 72 gran torino on display, I lived to work
Retired from 30 years in the auto plant.
Slowly the world has passed me by.
More black, more brown, more slant eyed
Still I know right from wrong
It’s the same here as in Hong Kong
When coward gangs seek power and control
I have to let them know they are digging themselves a hole
The weak and defenceless look with tired eyes
They let themselves become victims of a drive by shooting
I never express feelings of regret or remorse
In the night I made a plan
Go without a knife or gun in my hand
defeat my enemy with my brain
Making them believe I was insane
In an attempt to take on the entire gang
Yet they listened to my brave harangue
So I reached into my jacket for a lighter
They reacted like any street fighter
Opened fire to stop this threat
The church bells ringing
My body now in a casket
If you listen closely you can hear me say i'm the one to finish things
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
We rest deeply within our cote laying
the fields of quiet and peace.
The silence that lives underneath
an opera singers voice.
In our stillness we float up with
a sweetness of the finest essence
After the storm Noah sends us out
to fulfill a dream to find the
promise land.
As we search all direction we
carry no frustration as our
paths are completely open.
Our love has a steely aggressive
streak cutting through any
emotional obstacle.With a light
but forceful peck we find all
our boundaries broken.
As we slide through every challenge
like a train running through a
mountain.
Hidden behind an invisible wall
we find our isolated heart feeling
broken.
But with our beak a few light taps
and a wave like wand we find all
our spell are broken.
As the little self guards all his
inner wealth, but another voice
singing , " start sharing" as all
casts are now broken.
On the edge a little chick looking
down staring and just standing with
a little voice saying don't let go
keep on holding.
But a higher force with a heavy boot
just shoves us off, while screaming,
search for something higher.
So a little bird starts tumbling with desperate
little wings that feverishly flapping red face
fluttering.
But caught in the unexpected currents of life
winds push us lower.
Then though all of a sudden like an orchestra
that has just found its conductor or a singer
finding her voice we start flying.
Defenceless little birds I find ourselves powerless
to the forces from above as we are caught but
not in a cage
but in LOVE.
My wings out stretching my heart opening I
find my tiny self racing like a rocket into
an infinite space.
With my love inside my breast you will feel
the tickles of feathers inside your chest.
Fumbling and bumbling chest filled
with love we find no room inside
our home.
With chicks bursting we find our heart
full of explosion. The endless love of a dove
letting go into freedom rising steaming
just keeps on evaporating.
With this incredible task a little birds cover
the world, keep streaming from a magicians hat
they keep on appearing.
As we sink into feathery arms we are delicately
warmed and like a radiator we start glowing.
Love is the hope that hangs in the air
like the star of David.
So when you snuggle into
the love of a dove you will find
yourself anchored at the bottom
of the sea but also high in
the sky above.
So let us travel in the wings
of a doves love
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
she was a desperado's tale waiting to be told
she had it nailed down to the cold hand drop dead eye
she swaggers into the song
with a loud preamble that she will brook no delay
in the proceedings
the fat man just laughed and broke into another barrel
wine soaking his paris hewn three piece suit
with jewels encrusted by the professional eye
her drunken violin sweeps you along the winding road
of the heroes return
sends you crashing through the pearly gate
and walks you through the dancing beggars
their rags a fine linen
their riches a feast of a frenchmans table
and the sweetest and darkest of wines
her drunkards song weaves in and out of your conscience
with her theft of jewels too many to count
with her rescue of babes defenceless in the wood
she makes her rough love a lullabye
she makes her hard bent hand a soft caress
she is a feast to the starving mans eye
by the final hours of night
the fat man was laughing his way through
the very last barrel of wine
his soaked suit no longer such fine thread
his poorman eye no long longer filled with such easy mirth
he knows she will come collect her due
at the end of her song
the henchmen of karma are approaching with the
steady thud of steel shod boot on the cobblestone
and the fat mans laugh slowly dies in a puddle of
regrets and well wishers sorrows
her song was over and it was time to pay the piper
he tries to run
but as we all know
you cant outrun yourself
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
People will keep talking
But I don't have to listen
Others will continue to expect
And define my existence
They will try to take away
What's left of my childlike innocence
And even then, the things I do
Are still none of their business
How can I feel okay?
When they become restless
From me not conforming to their way
They only see it as reckless
Their shallow mouths spew words
Bringing upon damage that is endless
With the naive intentions to help
Yet, why do I feel more helpless?
Childhood criticisms cling to me
Leaving me defenceless
Whenever the guards of my walls
Become tired and careless
I thought it'd be easier to live
If I was just passive and selfless
Until I was driven to the point
Where I couldn't tell what was precious
I have now accepted that it is okay
That I do not share the same ethics
The differences found in me
Should not make me so apologetic
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 3:05 AM UTC
A conflict with only one soldier
Wearing no armour but
Stripped down and defenceless.
Carrying a sword only intended for one.
A lone soldier
A lone in conflict.
Jan 20, 2010
Jan 20, 2010 at 8:31 AM UTC
VIII
Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless dores may sease,
If ever deed of honour did thee please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms,
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
That call Fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spred thy Name o’re Lands and Seas,
What ever clime the Suns bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses Bowre,
The great Emathian Conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Towre
Went to the ground: And the repeated air
Of sad Electra’s Poet had the power
To save th’ Athenian Walls from ruine bare.
1.3k
They never started the same
They crawl up on her
They become part of everything
Dispersing across floors & furniture
A plate with fresh food
Thrown, mistakenly, at a wall
Shattering, only to breed
Innumerable monsters
Too much distress to even
Identify the name of
These creatures that
Preposterously morph around
The warm cup of tea she
Once held, warming her
Terrified self.
smash
Even with closed eyes, they haunt
Leaving the undecided question of
Is this some form of disordered
Disorientating other reality?
A rhetorical question, a statement
Of none expectant response
For these are for her eyes only
Her mind & her disorder
Running tracks, stairs
Streets, towns, cities
To no avail or answer
Worn out feet of battered soles
Stumbling the miles traced
Breadcrumbs, leave a Hansel & Gretel
Trail of discord, a cacophony of deafly noise.
smash
They are the disease of the night
They are the monsters of the mind
They are the enemies attacking a naïve self
Days spent, releasing fears
Of what once were dreams
Irrevocably impossible to change
For how is she to reach
Into a subconscious mind
Where the mice are chased
Defenceless prey
Victims of themselves
Slaves of the blackened sky
Where all there is to protect her
Are crashing stars, subsuming
Her very own nightmares.
smash
Stars setting her free
Free from sinful blasphemy
Awakening memories of
Unconditional love from
The honey moon set in
This autumn sky
Where all is forgotten
She is no longer the babe in the woods
A quivering girl, but a
Woman of remarkable wonder
Sleeping in silk sheets, bungalow number three
Château Marmont, 8221 Sunset Boulevard
Elixir of life, Princess of alchemy, believer
Of exoteric knowledge, trusting a
Universe, far greater than her.
smash
© Sia Jane
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
It’s my 18th birthday today, love.
I beat you.
I finally did it.
Remember baby,
how we used to fight,
We used to play and compete
And how I used to whine,
Never gaining a single victory.
You always gloated,
Always rubbed it in my face.
In the end you always told me,
“My biggest achievement is you babe”
and tears would fall down
Staining my cheeks.
These tears never went away,
But you did.
Baby you promised!
You said we were forever!
So why did you leave me defenceless?!
I don’t like this game baby.
You win, I lose.
please don’t let my agonising anguish continue.
I wanted to win darling,
But not like this.
Not with you sleeping
Six feet
In a ***** damp ditch.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Let those that shoot for fun be
The hunted, let us shoot them not
A death shot, that would be a hunt
Over to soon where is the fun.
It will do as they bleed to death, not
Knowing why, or by who, but the last
Breath is of blood and regret this is
Not fun.
Let those that hunt in the name of
fun, let us get are arrows our rifles,
Teeth or guns.
Watch them run, through the woods
As they know now what they did to
those defenceless ones, now coming
Full circle Watch,
"BANG"
Missed, plenty of ammo left, its just
The start of this fun.
The trail we take, we find are prey
scope to the eye,
"BANG"
Grazed is this hunter become the hunted
O'well they,ll bleed out a little easier
To hunt my prey.
Blood drops easy to follow to find
Where you have gone, injured you
Are slower no where to run.
Easy when they can not run, I find
You slumped next to a tree,
Screaming,
Pleading,
Shouting
Out profanities, why me what have I done,
I smile this is an easy **** as the lion roars
Rips out your throat the deed is done.
The hunt over I did make it quick you
Died in minutes, now feel the pain of
Those you used to hunt to die alone,
To choke on your own blood
Nothing did the animals do,
They did nothing wrong
Just on the wrong side of an idiots
Power trip with a loaded gun.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC