"manhandling" poems
what makes you feel granted
manhandling my memories
stirring up my experience
diagnosing with no credentials
gaslighting feelings of fear
forcing to question what happened
mind entering a storm
chaos now runs free roam
flashbacks and dreams
dialogue and overwhelming voices
speaking over another
talking me into a box
leaving me there alone
he pulls the chain around it
and imprisons me with a lock
my teeth chatter when I’m anxious
body starts to shake
hands begin to clench
skin feels wave of heat
and I start to feel faint
stomach tells me I’m in danger
heart throbbing in concert with a clock
my face emotionless and stale
as I try to mask what puts me in more danger
of not feeling collected and vulnerable
trusted if I break a sweat they’ll see
make a sudden movement and touch
touch my soft skin marked with scars
I question which body part is next
as I sit in a freezing shock
that limits my movement
ability to think
and speak
as hands go and *****
I scream so loud
but nobody hears me
I am silent
lips unmoved
internal thoughts crying
there is so much to say
but I can’t get myself to speak
and I want those ***** hands off
but I can’t seem to move
body paralyzed
I start unpacking this to the darkness
never to be opened for my safety
throwing away the feelings
destroying what it felt like
is better than keeping it alive
so please
don’t touch me like that
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 3:35 AM UTC
Flowers so delicately bloom
their roots run deep and thrive
from white to pink
lilacs and hues of purples and reds
such baby blues
to the deepest indigo
a miracle
with the brightest
and most beautiful of petals
a scent to fill the air
fragrances to lift the heart
such a delight it is
to have sight of them
but flowers that are picked
by uncaring hands
will often crush their velvet petals
in their eagerness to have
handling
manhandling
allowing no light
nor care
a desperate want for their eyes
greedy
needy hands
and when the flowers begin to fade
through such damage
they are placed within a press
so that they may be held
for a longing
to covert
all light and care turns away
as the butterfly screws
tightens it's grip
of such delicate petals
time will pass
and maybe it will be remembered
and held to the light
transparent
a tiny shadow of bloom remains
placed
set
among others like itself
and it will be held
for all time
in a book entitled
scrap
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
Edie was caught in the claws of copulation.
She was attractive, with no roots showing
on the top of her scalp.
Great **** great *** could hold a conversation.
Everyday, she got into her workhouse of a car,
more home than her dingy apartment, and drove
to her first "appointment."
But on this day, the appointment that loomed ahead of
her had her shower cold and her face white.
She drove past an old movie theatre
and an abstract and title company with
the fanciest sign in town.
It was Edie's favorite.
She glanced out the window.
A regular ******* standing on the sidewalk was chatting
up a woman who looked bored stiff
and there was a young man a few jumps
away who couldn't hold his liquor.
"Pathetic," Edie muttered.
An average run-of-the-mill bar slouched behind
them and there were ridiculous looking people
spilling out the door.
But only those who had survived the night before.
Across the street, a newspaper dispenser ***** and chained
to a light pole stood content as its contents spilled from
it's belly like the guts of a dead gazelle.
Like the guts of it's readers.
Like the guts of a building out an open window.
Edie's ******* were sore and hurt after the
manhandling of last night.
They began with a ***** that got straight to
the point and then they did too.
He had advertised himself as "sweety but meaty"
and Edie discovered later
that his genitals were uncircumsized and below average.
Oh well.
Submission.
She had a headache in the morning and no aspirin.
Her decision was to stop later and get some.
But before then, she had something to take care of.
Something big that needed to be handled.
Something she hoped would be brief.
"Something," she thought, "that's for **** sure."
She pulled into a front spot in her black '98 BMW,
fixed her make-up, then her hair.
Edie closed her eyes, took in a rather large
amount of oxygen,
exhaled and stepped out of the car.
She had a hankering for eggs after all.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
When you looked me straight in the eye and said,
'The other night you were so drunk I thought,
"man, I could totally take advantage of her."
Could've gotten straight into your pants',
I was shocked.
I had been right all along.
All those times your eyes danced in amusement
whilst you forced your mouth to stop twitching
I already knew what was going through your mind.
But tonight thanks to half a dozen pints
you've said it all and there is no turning back.
I was shocked,
by my reaction, my immediate reply,
"so why didn't you?"
though not spoken out loud,
was clearly heard in my seductive smile.
When you put one arm around me forcing me into a hug
and tried to kiss me on the lips
I moved away.
When you grasped my wrists with your hands and pinned me down
leaving bruises in the shape of your fingers
I threatened to bite you.
When you squeezed the back of my neck with one hand
just to prove how big your palm was
I struggled to break free.
Reactions which felt were called for.
Reactions which were expected and appropriate.
But,
part of me, **** that, all of me,
enjoyed the sensation
of that feeling of helplessness
as you slowly overpowered me
the playful manhandling
the alien sense of control and authority.
Even hours later
I'm stroking the bruises on my wrists wistfully.
The back of my neck is tingling whilst reminiscing.
A part of my soul darker than your skin has been unveiled
and I'm shocked.
I would like you to do all that to me again
one on one
in an empty place
and I think I will enjoy the gentle pain.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
Easier to snap stitches sown by a witch,
Individual infliction, comforts to materialize,
Mentally-made pain,
Not one to take a knife to my vein,
Mentally tortured till I'm convinced to claw at those arteries
Peer pressure, I am more than just a friend look for gain,
Naturally nourished before incubation
Neurologically nestled till you learn of our need,
To share an existence, that I will also perceive,
If only we could say, If only I could see,
Our minds can ******* the bold,
Those egos bring us deeper than the worms,
The roots of a cemetery’s dying trees no one can reach,
Keeping us quickly exiting this existence,
The discovery of complete darkness or another chance to perceive,
The mystery that keeps you listening to me,
From lobes that function and breathe
My torment fostered from a self-destructive process,
Thoughts fomented in the cranial corridors of a mind in need,
Independent and only recently unaware,
The mind doesn’t fear the electric chair,
Each day will bring trouble,
But some will bring you peace and a sense of a soul once more,
In the wake of mind that mandates, manipulates,
Be the powerhouse that reaches for your own controls,
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
From the cradle to the grave
We're manhandled and manipulated
Manoeuvred like chess pieces
Arranged in columns, in statistics, in order
Our worth is determined by skilful orientation
Influenced by others, employed by others, used by others
Faceless, nameless, featureless, utilisers that
Make sure we are kept within our boundaries
Yet, all these words have one thing in common MAN
Unscrupulous influence unfairly deployed
Ensure that our managed manhandling is exploited by the MAN.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
-
No one knows what goes
on behind the kitchen door
You can guess and assume,
ask questions, seek answers
or sling accusations
hoping the batter will stick
But there are reasons
some choose to slip
behind a disguise
of safe netting
Perhaps scars
of the past are not
that appealing when the
mirror is faced
reflecting bad memories
or maybe threats falling
like the sky on that
little chicken’s head
are taken seriously
It could be shadows
lingering behind foggy curtains
cryptic fingers reaching,
manhandling innocence
or something as simple
as shyness fluttering
like a soft breeze
sending chills on a
warm summer day
Maybe artistic endeavors,
creative images circled
on a recipe card to bring a smile
or those who were
falsely accused hiding from
a jury of peering eyes
that leaned towards
the popular side
of the truth
Or sadly to throw stones,
spit venom
from a forked tongue,
troll from beneath
a fairytale bridge
(Three Billy Goat’s Gruff)
built on jealousy
and rickety thoughts
Anyway…
people are people,
reasons are reasons
It takes all kinds
to make a stew
that has all of the flavors
to create a poetic feast
even if we don’t know each
ingredient by its correct name
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
There's a nemesis on the premises
watching through the crevices of my hellishness
watching the precious homage paid to my delicate testaments of corruption and bitterness
yet to know observation is venomous if hesitant
the evidence is irrelevant while you wait on a settlement of peace from a benevolent king
back stabbing sentiments have no precedence over the decaying elements of my eloquence
not one finger can touch the decadence of my mental inhabitants
with whispers of shadows within their em-battlements
some go celibate from the spiritual experiments
in villainous line scrimages
consumed
with images of pillaged villages
baffled
in the battle to dismantle the soul scandals
manhandling rambles through foolish gambles
we each blow out our own candles
Left for dead
Strangled
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
another drag through jagged teeth,
manhandling my body with precision.
lips glittering with the wet from your tongue,
piercings blundering my soul.
continue to make your move against me,
i am numb to all feelings you may hold.
wrap me up and throw me to the dogs,
before you take all humanity.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
The city is melting in the screams
In the dead of night,
From thick skins to thin skins,
So accustomed to fearful, bloodied scenes
As you walk through or past
blinking in the putrid smokes rising up like an atom explosion
compelling you to gouge your eyes out
or rip the flesh off your bones
You're knocked out in a floundering hill of carcass
I was there
I was scared
Unidentifiable in the crowd adorned with courage
As my people should be
They targeted me anyway
Emptying the barrel of a dozen revolvers
Hundreds of black-clad Darth Vaders
besieged my space once taken to be safe
Gone are those days entrusting 'law and order'
unmasking itself as a little less human
cutting innocent lives shorter and shorter
learning that it's after all a shape-shifting demon
"When I grow up I want to serve in the plice
Fools, you see what they want you to see
A provocation or condemnation
And they give you a taste of merciless damnation
My people play no part in the conflict
And yet. The demons in blue and green
orchestrate and construct minefields to ****
And yet. We don't plan to forfeit
I say 'We' on behalf of journalists
I say 'people' on behalf of journalists
also happen to be People with Emotions
Finding middle ground when the earth under your feet
crumbles. Living in Commotion
Power-hungry bodies are dark voids during a war
because money buys protection
because status breeds greed
Empowered bodies are overcome during a war
because all they feel is pain and fury
of measures shaking them to the burning core
They fired shots after shots
manhandling our right to exist
Our weapon of choice is the pen
we'll show them
tyranny is so close to its end
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC
Dress your girls
To be a street walker
Teach your boys
To become trash talkers.
Why should they undergo
The first twelve years or so
With no solid understanding
Of prostitution and manhandling?
So paint her face
And shorten her dress.
Copy the working girls
Make her an immoral mess.
All that is important is
The approval of her friends.
Don’t worry about where this
Look of impropriety ends.
You boys wear chains
And motorcycle gang wear
So that you can recognize him
In juvenile jail cells everywhere.
Let him get tattoos young
Of skulls and snakes and chains.
Why should you worry about
The future criminal that remains?
Peer acceptance rules
Parents certainly do not.
Look at all the free time
You suddenly have got.
You can set your kid down
In front of the television
And turn them into totally
Nearly useless men and women.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC