"inflictors" poems
Concise, smooth
... in the mind's motor
Change the gears
... in the mind's motor.
Smooth transition
Up & Down
Forward & Reverse
The clutch
is not the crutch
the crucifix logo
on the bonnet
covering the forehead.
Pain on the dashboard
Diviners, decals or designators
Inflictors, innovators or inflexions
Pain on the Dashboard
Ignition, perception, cognition
waits for the turn key
in the soft tissue starter motor.
Turning indicators
flicker flash
amber red
there is no green.
Headlamps a dull glow
in the white hot agony
of the parking lot.
Robyn Youl.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
There were four bodies, walking in one line towards me.
It was a bridge, a dark bridge inviting fear to overtake me.
I was on my phone...What was I thinking being on the phone
whilst walking alone?
They first walked towards me with innocence and poverty written in their eyes,
there were lies waiting, perhaps hoping I could give them what they wanted.
Like the idiot I was I allowed them to corner me,
they cornered me like shadows leaving no space for light.
I held on tightly of the strength and bravery left in me,
my phone being ripped out of my hands,
my bag,
my neck being choked,
being held down by the weight of four men,
who simply wanted help yet turned their rejection to hate, hurt, inflictors of fear,
They gripped my hair,
There was no air left in me to breath,
My precious body ****** in shock,
I felt lost,
I felt blocked,
I lost my confidence,
then fought back with each and every vocal in me, I screamed and screamed and screamed even if it killed me, even if they killed me, at least I would have died with my bravery intact in me.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Some friends save your life while ending it
The pain without them would be unbearable.
But they are the cigarette you can’t help but hit.
With them, the pain is still terrible.
And it’d be easier to let it go
But a life without addiction is a life you’d rather not know.
And while they slowly **** you inside
You still find ways to defend them, even with flat out lies.
Wanting to leave them behind
But a better life is too difficult to find.
So you stay with this pain
Though you have nothing to gain.
Unable to recite your pain to the inflictors
For fear of them locking you behind door.
A repressed memory
Is all you feel you’ll ever be.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
I can no longer tell what’s worse,
To live the happy lonely curse,
Or to cause immense pain,
Without nary a thing to gain.
We wished to stay together,
As our hearts said ‘its better’.
The gremlins, ghouls and ghosts,
Preyed on emotions as hosts.
Bore the burden bashfully,
As though we never knew a bully.
We inflicted wounds that won’t heal,
Just to show ourselves we can still feel.
We hated them, the pain inflictors and pain creators,
Till we built a land full of them and became dictators.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 5:33 AM UTC
We look back to the ancient past
And castigate the white skin
The shackles of the days before today
Still ring the bell of oppression
We call them the masters
And Inflictors of the flesh
While the gate is yet closed
A new gate opens
A broad way to the mind
With a brown shallow exit
Where the black skin rules
With selfish tools
In the land of the cow and the bee
Where the people lie in wait for hope
And voices seek to be heard
Corrupt hands steal destinies
While accountability fades away
These chains of societal slavery
Are Battles yet unwon
Aug 29, 2023
Aug 29, 2023 at 5:31 AM UTC