"inflicts" poems
I can't remember the last time I touched your face
But I can feel your cheekbones digging into my mind like the feeling of taking a shovel
hollowing out my own grave to lie in
When was the last time I was able to run my fingers through your hair?
Untangling hair is easy, but I haven't yet found anything
to get out the knots in my stomach
If someone asked me what color your eyes were, I couldn't tell them
But I could explain just how it felt when they looked into mine
Like when you look into the sun and are blinded by its immense beauty, so blinded
you can't see the inevitable damage it inflicts upon every pore
Except I haven't yet found anything to protect myself from your stare
What if my skin burns before you can feel it again
And how will you feel if you're too bright that I can't look anymore?
You might begin to miss the fact that nobody can look at you the way I do
before you even realize I can
And I could tell them how you felt when mine looked into yours
despite the fact that you can't
Because you don't know what it's like to feel something other than your own fear
But I'm not afraid of you anymore, I have no fear
I have some hope you can have, it's been growing for quite some time
And I may have some more strength left, although dealing with you feels like
running to a destination that doesn't exist
I'm tired of being selfish and hogging all the feelings
And I think I'll share
with you
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
Funny little thing is she,
She laughs at lightning in the storm.
And what most would see as torture,
She inflicts with pride and is not scared.
Her skin is sharp like broken glass,
And through her lover’s skin she tore.
Through her safest home she tore.
Stupid little girl is she.
They try to mend her broken glass
But the edges cause destruction of a storm.
Please don’t run, don’t be scared,
Don’t be a part of her torture.
Running love is her only torture,
Not pain that through her heart tore.
Distance leaves her crying scared,
Unable to control the fear in her.
Maybe she is the rain in the storm,
Shattering passing window glass.
Maybe she doesn’t mind the glass,
She doesn’t think this is torture.
And maybe it’s not a storm,
But a hurricane she tore
Out of her skin. She
Is no longer scared.
The distance does not make her scared.
Her skin is no longer broken glass.
Alive little girl is she.
Nothing more will be her torture.
She doesn’t need the lover she tore.
No longer does she hide from the storm.
Not sunny skies, but no more storm.
Not yet calm, but at least not scared.
Not yet healed, but not torn.
Maybe cracked, but not broken glass.
Some discomfort, but it doesn’t feel like torture.
Strong little girl is she.
Screaming insanely she tore herself out of this storm.
No one will say “she’s gonna lose it”. Because she somehow she is not scared.
It’s a mystery how she fixed her glass, or how she can still tolerate the torture.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Depression is oppression.
It's a deadly hidden message
Defined by self-hate.
It seals its prisoner's fate.
It holds you captive and throws out the key.
It stabs and jabs just to see you bleed,
Inflicting wounds that scar for life.
Destruction is its mother and death its wife.
You can cry, but it will always ignore your screams.
It terrorizes your soul and haunts your dreams.
It sends you false hope through a bottle or pill.
It destroys your goals and inflicts its will.
You can't run, nor can you hide.
By its rules you will abide
Until it celebrates that you have died.
Open your eyes, or you will be its prey.
It will blur your vision in the most twisted way.
It will seek your destruction and call for your head.
You will lie and wait but never rest in your bed.
Peace will come to those who want peace,
But as long as you feed him, you will see the beast.
You can't run, nor can you hide,
But if you conquer the beast, you will survive.
Prayer and hope can lead the way.
Cling on to every word you pray.
Hope is in truth.
Hate is in lies.
Pray for your soul and open your eyes.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
a dear friend asked just yesterday
how does your marriage last
thirty years and counting, friend
would have to challenge even the best
two words said i
that's all it takes
“making love” a marriage makes
but please consider my definition
before you reach the wrong conclusion
they call it making love
but when synonymous with
one night stand
a party grand…
really?
inflicts only a world of hurt
a soul bruised and burnt
call it what you want
but for certainty
love making it is not
you may disagree with me
but you’ll not disagree with this
the objectification of
our dear and fairer gender
never built a civilization
a community
or a family
only a heartache
love making then is work
love making begins
by dating those we love
not just for the win
but for life
more parts are we
than only one
love making it cannot be
until all three
a body undressed
a soul vulnerable
a spirit transparent
are undone completely
love making
the complete package
the whole enchilada
it’s a full meal deal
and inseparable from
talking
walking
working
calling
sending cards
touching
cuddling
holding hands
tender whispers
kissing softly
hugging gently
need i go on?
because when done right
amazing are the nights
but oh, even so much more
are the days,
the months
and the years!
now...
go make love!
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
Can I just write a poem that says **** the police"
for every single line
for every single stanza
and leave it at that?
Because I'm imagining his next victim, because there will be a next one,
and how she will feel when she finds out that he had my former report
on his private police record, accessible only by certain police.
I want to scream, but the metal chain he put around my throat to choke me because
"ha ha you like that, right?" after I had already said no
is still there, so nothing can come out of my mouth,
except I've been screaming as loud as I can for so long;
One year and I'm still not free.
His body weight is still crushing me, still heavy; the bruises on my body still felt every day, my body a museum of decaying loss and my mind a perfect video recording that plays on repeat whenever I just
want
some
sleep;
Nightmares I wake from and can't wake from.
I think one of the hardest days of my life was when I got my **** kit.
I mean- you know- other than the actual ****
I developed a stutter that day.
I blame myself.
I blame. I -I- I blame myself.
But I can't!
All of the "no's" that I said to him didn't matter, the police said;
everything non consensual didn't count;
it was only the one coerced "yes" that counted;
Scared for my life but, **** the police, right?
And all the times that I said to the police "yes" that I was *****
collapse and boom like a bomb on deaf ears of police that tell me that,
"maybe you just regretted having *** with him."
Or how about when they rolled their eyes when they learned that I met him on tinder?
I gave them a smile and answered that yes, that's true, because what else was I supposed to do but tell the truth?
Or the first thing they said to me was "so then you had a few drinks..."
Well no, sir, that's not what happned, at all.
See, there have been multiple levels of injustice here and I thought I was doing the right thing to heal.
In my partial hospitalization program that I went to for PTSD,
that I got from my ******
I learned that the "right" thing to do was to seek help right away after a traumatic incident so that it doesn't lead to lifelong suffering;
Quick help leads to a faster recovery,
and I've always wanted to do the right thing:
Like getting him arrested for ****** me.
But the police don't listen even when your body has been confiscated, graffiti marked by your ******
and the police tell you coldly to just seek counseling because, after all,
you "consented,"
and that your ****** isn't a ****** in the eyes of the law.
A ****** isn't a ****** but is a ****** and he's going free.
I did the right thing but I'm still stuck night after night, waking up crying;
I wonder who will be next, and that person's weight is added on top of me;
The gallery of bruises he inflicts will just continue, and I wonder where on snapchat will they be next?
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 8:10 AM UTC
I'm into masochism
Yes masochism because I get enjoyment from my pain
My pain that bleeds with emense rage through my passion for you
Making me see through what I believe is real so I push through it
Remove it with what is seen as invisible walls constantly drawin me into you
Yup ladies and gents I'm into masochism
I'm willing to subject myself to this type of torture because I believe there is something on this horizon that will make me buy into what is in the crystal ball
Fortune telling
"Fortunate to have you boy I'm so glad your in my world...rest assure as the sky gets blue blessed the day..."
That I found you
You glowed as a bold man so I couldn't stand to not say anything
So I said LET FREEDOM RING
Marched right over with words so convincing
Martin said " I HAVE A DREAM!"
Dreams of you
But it's a constant battle tryna break through
So the untold vulnerabilities continue to be unsaid
Laying in a bed of unspoken words that I know are there cuz I see them in your eyes every time I look at you
So yes people of this blessed universe I announce I'm into masochism
I guess you can call me a *********
One that inflicts conscience pain that moves along my spine moving to my nervous system that moved throughout my body so I feel you all over
So it's not over...
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
This silence is killing me.
Was it too much?
Am I that annoying?
Should I give them space?
The mind is a powerful thing
Because it can make or break someone's day
With all the crazy concoctions
And scenarios it cooks up
And the pain it inflicts
Even when there is nothing there.
It's all about interpretation.
The mind can help you pass a test
Or make you fail.
The mind can make a dream come true
Or ruin it with the nightmare of
Reality.
The mind is where I see you and me.
The mind is where I am free.
From pain.
From torture.
From life.
My mind is where I go
When I can look in the mirror
No more.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
what frightens me in the world today
is that nobody knows
nobody is aware
people are suffering
everywhere
what frightens me in the world today
success in unreachable
nobody is ever happy
we are trapped behind our faults
bring us to the times where
generosity wasn't a surprise
where soft souls walked into our lives
just to simply bring a smile
where in this world today shall we look for happiness
where can we find a path where humility bridges over
the pain
suffering
anguish
loneliness
hunger
death
and the broken hearts of this world
we need to rise up in this new year
bring upon change that inflicts joy
a simple smile
let our resolutions not be for OUR own good
but for the good of OUR surroundings, our neighbors, our enemies
for when you learn to love and wish for the better of your enemies
i believe in that time, you can truly find peace
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
You sure have a way with moisture.
Your ability to make me cry
From my eyes, from my lips
From my heart, from my hips
Never ceases to amaze me.
As the rain commences outside of my window,
You create a storm inside my bed.
And as you hold me tightly afterward,
You create a storm in my head.
Where the thunder triggers passion,
And the lightning strikes down doubt,
Where the hail inflicts pain,
And where no umbrella can help.
In a puddle somewhere near,
There’s a reflection of us two.
And with every sweet rain drop,
I lose a piece of you.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
It is a smile on the turpitude of scorching sun that inflicts on us
A harbinger from the kingdom of heaven.
Descending from above -soothing ,dancing ,sizzling mizzling and torrential at times,
Sluicing down the earth bed ,end to end, wherever it touches.
It has power to sustain this world
It has the power to raze this world
It has the power to ornament this world
It made this abode a rarest one in the matrix of the whole universe
From past to present, ever and forever.
It is a presence felt as long as the earth is green,the sun shines,
The ocean whirls and the moon chuckles,
Be it called -the clouds,rain ,life or water
All in one the manifestation of the other.
A benediction from the Soul Supreme
To which we all owe our existence.
By D.R.Mohanty
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
tears
silence
confusion
words that descibe the aftermath of hearing the news
a boy and a woman
a brother and a mother
gone
at the hand of the eldest son
a victim himself, of a poisoned mind, trapped in his own body, forced to watch the destruction the dark side inflicts
when is the change coming; no more lives at the mercy of a mental illness they got doing what they loved
i have the will and i can find a way, their deaths will not be in vain
he deserves to be here, to make it to eighteen, to make it to his graduation
they deserved more time than they were given and they will be a driving force for saving countless lives beyond the horizon
rest easy
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
the birthing of a new day
brings good news, no matter what
the sun is bright with renewed hope...
for some, though,
a new day means only one thing,
which, to them, is so fulfilling---
as soon as there is light,
nothing could stop
the lashing of the tongue,
the mind, ever ready to strike.
a vanity mirror stands---
many reflections stare back
waits,
for the eyes that stare
the eyes that wander
through words
through spaces
searching for its prey
mouth brims with affronts
inflicts pain
mind gets busy
fire raging
too much envy...hatred... and grudge held within,
hands touch...slide on the keys
words glide away....then start
spinning double-edged knives
words that stab and slash
when read, and absorbed
flying in the air
while the innocent ones inhale,
victims, burned
by the flames spewed by the tongue
poisoned
by the venom of the spitfire.
purple skies of dawn don't matter
dark blue firmament could just stay that way
for, there is only black and red
while the spitfire is awake...
Sally
Copyright June 28, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
Dry the water from your eyes, leave these dreams behind,
There is no thing here for you, but the haunting ghosts in your mind.
The ocean may be sparkling in the sun, yet the ship is sinking,
Shattered down in the deep, where the beams are never winking.
So please, my dearest one, do not let yourself devour.
They will cause only pain, these dreams of yours so flowered.
The oleander may be a beauty evergreen, yet its blood so deadly,
Makes your heart stop pounding, turning it cold and heavy.
Make your dreams a different kind, like the ones that never fade,
Because yours are turning grey, and will forever remain unmade.
The fire may be an alluring saviour, yet demanding are its licks,
Leaving every soul in ashes, ruthless destruction it inflicts.
Dreams like these were never meant for a heart like yours,
So pour out your reveries, and close the tempting doors.
His wine may be sweet on your tounge, yet it will leave you drained,
And bitter is the aftertaste, wishing you had abstained.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Black Flags are flowing
In the news;
inked in
or Not
The pulp slashes
Across my seared consciousness:
What say my heart for those
Who perish?
What Say My Heart
For Those Who Cry?
Peevishly My Heart responds,
in ****** Tears,
As in a nightmare:
Weep all the tears
For the Motherless Children,
Weep All the Tears
For The Buried Child...
Weep For Yourself, And Not Without Shame,
Weep For Humanity And
Mankind
As it Slowly Dies...
Weep for Those
Whose Vibrant
Life You Adore.
Weep Not For The Cruelly Weak
Who, Knowingly,
inflicts
such
Inordinate pain.
J Eduardo Ramos©
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
What cruel force keeps lovers apart --
Why must each tread a separate path?
Preordained they should never meet . . .
What arbiter inflicts such wrath?
Two lives hurled into misery,
Two hearts nailed to the same cross;
Never to savor love's banquet,
They're condemned to feed off life's dross
Spring faintly smiled on these two hearts
As dreams absorbed their youthful hours;
Although nurtured like tender plants
They yielded naught but withered flowers
Each new day held a ray of Hope,
Dispelling impatience and doubt;
They kept watch as the flame burned bright . . .
Till finally, their tears put it out
Two hearts dying slow painful deaths,
Each cloaked in its own crimson shroud;
One heart dies, crying silently,
The other sobs its pain aloud
Two lonely hearts ever dreaming
They might stroll Love's Garden one day;
Now resigned, they no longer dream --
Sadly, on Death's threshold they lay
So come forth and ring the death knell --
Come lay your bouquets at their feet;
Mourn if you will such tragedies
While asking "Why didn't they meet?"
Apr 19, 2023
Apr 19, 2023 at 5:04 PM UTC
A cigarette that promises
to satisfy but turns to ash,
A nicotine addiction that
promises to be harmless
but inflicts damage,
Lungs that promise to help you breathe
but leave you gasping for air,
An "I'll always be here" that
"is never there"
A gardener that never waters his rose,
and so the rose dies without proper care.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
1087
We miss a Kinsman more
When warranted to see
Than when withheld of Oceans
From possibility
A Furlong than a League
Inflicts a pricklier pain,
Till We, who smiled at Pyrenees—
Of Parishes, complain.
1.2k
Unleash the soul
from the shackles
of debilitating forces
which leaves us
gasping for breath
the wound
barbed wires
in a tight hold
inflicts many wounds
draining us
everyday, of life
there is a purpose
to life
whose meaning
eludes us
until we free ourselves
from the reality
we have created
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
A sudden surge tears through the underbrush
A tumbling tackle of growling fur
A cornered coyote attacked by my two dogs
I stand and watch
Like it's some nature show
More horrible in real life
Strange how long it takes
A good twenty minutes
They must edit those shows
He is wounded, wants only to escape
My dogs refuse, synchronously circle
One hundred and eighty degrees apart
He knows nothing of degrees
He cannot watch them both
So always, one unseen
Dives in to wound him more
Unlike him, I can -
Watch the whole show
From a safe distance
I do
Twenty minutes is an eternity
Death does not come easy
There are breaks
Like rounds in a prize fight
A minute or two for everyone to rest
He lies there in the middle
My dogs nearby
Everyone relaxed and panting
Like friends on a hot afternoon
Perhaps they’ll let him go
He tries but, no.
They continue the carnage
He inflicts a few wounds of his own
But the outcome is now becoming clear
Knowing this, he whines and begs
Like a pup crying for his mother
My dogs do not care
I keep watching
Finally it’s over
He lies there, mouth wide open
Showing his beautiful white teeth
Eyes wide open, showing what I have no wish to see again
His life flashing before his eyes
And mine
The whole time, I just stood there
Did nothing to assist the ****
or stop the violence
Remained on the safe sidelines
A ****** of violence
Only when it's safe do I approach
I take his picture
What was it the aborigines said?
“No pictures -
Your pictures steal our soul”
But I insist
I take the pictures
I steal the souls
His and mine
Cliff Perkins
September 13, 2016
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
I grab my controller...
and it's on.
A release from not only myself
and the torture I endure
but a release from this world
and the pain it inflicts.
Like a lioness, stalking her prey,
I am prepared
and ready...
As the world fades to grey,
and the sweat drips down my face...
I know.. It's game on.
No matter what I play
No matter who I am with
I will be victorious.
Gamer Legion
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
yellow city, black sky
massive architecture, flickering liquid
glass oceans along
the cold canyons of San Francisco
wavering illusion upon reality
disfigured sideshow reflections
of disembodied achievement
trapped in themselves,
our selves
no longer nourished by the roots,
a hunger imposed upon the planet
like a suffocating blanket that people
pave over and **** on
until it's buried so deep
that even the heart has trouble breathing,
trouble beating out its rhythm;
a musical act of joy now stuttering
along like a gasping survivor
straggling across the ruins of Pompeii
crying out for what? help? no,
the end of suffering, a swift death
instead of the long parasitic drawl
that man so eagerly inflicts
upon the earth, himself
claiming the Kingdom
for the eternal barbarian, deep in the veins
coursing through the apparatus
which creaks beneath the weight of our guilt
and stultifies in the monstrosity of our ignorance,
yet it continues to run,
as if to see how far we'll go,
as if life were merely an experiment to see
how spectacularly
it could end
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 7:13 PM UTC
Domestic violence, I feel it in your silence,
I see the pain in your eyes, hearing the torture in your cries.
Bruises, broken bones your half dead,
he battered you so badly there's scars on your head, with the feeling of dread.
To weak to fight his strength, you'd go to any length,
to break free run from this bully, he don't love you in his heart not truly or fully.
Excuses are running out, you have to get out
U can hear him coming, you get the urge to start running.
You freeze he grabs you by the hair,
pleading with him to stop, in this rage he doesn't care.
Another punch in the face, he throws you around,
too young to pick you up off of the ground.
He says he didn't mean it, i wish you could of seen it
from the beginning, he's got a hold of you he thinks he's winning.
walking on egg shells living in this hell,
too afraid to speak out, there's no one you can tell.
He rapes you batters you inflicts all this pain,
stripped you of your dignity, makes you feel insane.
Domestic violence, break your silence
fight back your strong, what he's doing is wrong.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
Fibromyalgia
Fibromyalgia is an illness that often besets
Women and men who can not help themselves
It's a syndrome that causes great pain and distress
It even causes its victims to feel overwhelmed
And cold damp weather only increases the chance
That muscles will cramp and increase the stress
And though one looks the same at a glance
They really are in pain that no one would guess
Often people are misinformed and act so curt
And expect us to address everything at top form
When each small movement inflicts such hurt
That often we just can't even meet the norm
I, for one, am tired of people telling me
Get out of bed and do your part
When I really want to depart and flee
And hide my sick and broken heart
They can't see I'm trying my best
To hold onto some kind of life
But all their scoffing makes it a test
When will I be done with this awful strife
For me, each day is a long hard trial
I sometimes find life hard to face
I often think it's not worthwhile
Running this kind of pain-filled race
Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 3:25 PM UTC