A spectre resides within me,
tormenting me relentlessly,
disrespecting me in my sleep,
does this haunting have no end!?

There's a ringing
in my ears, just before
the pain sets in.
A constant-thumping,
a sharp-stabbing
behind my eyes,
disrupting me
from a glorious
deep slumber.

Then the panic sets in &
I must soothe this beast,
before I am driven mad.

And O what decisions!
Two or three scoops
of Colombian,
Kenyan, perhaps
some Guatemalan!?
Black, cream or sugar!?
What will suffice
this evil tormenter,
this wraith of the night!?

And O Dear Lord,
I cannot think clearly,
how can anyone
so sleep-deprived,
so panicstricken,
make such choices
this late, so early
in the morning!?

Dear Lord, please
help me make it
through another day,
please make
it go away!

Just black......

You are a model
a bartender
an accountant
a casanova
a catch-22
a poet
a pitiful romantic
and


a tormenter of my heart.

We use them so often.....and I believe at times without thought.
You can't return them like an unwanted gift that someone else has bought.

They don't linger in the air like a bird who hovers up above....
The heart is often damaged by words that are supposedly uttered out of love.

Kids getting called names at school and nobody knows the hurt that resides inside.
This has been going on for a few years.....a pleasant school year reduced to tears.

You're too skinny....you're too fat.....you know that those shoes don't go with that....
Hey everyone! Did you know (insert name here) mom is addicted to crack?
She makes her living by laying on her back.....I think that was her underneath the bleachers at the city's racetrack.

Your lips are too big....that's not even your real hair....listen as the insults continue to pollute the air.
The negative atmosphere effects the attitude of anyone that steps in.....
How can I win?.......if the words said are defeating......it's like trying to put on weight....but you aren't even eating.

The pressure is steady building.....like soda in a can.  The emotions have been shaken up ......and eventually it will explode.
The adults who were oblivious to the situation or just brushed it under the rug when they were told.......

Have encountered a horrible situation.......something from the words uttered is about to unfold.

The room of a victim of unkind words and horrendous names.....decided to play a Russian roulette game.....written on the mirror and bullet:

"sticks and stones may break my bones....but names will never hurt me.
THAT'S A LIE! THEY DO! NOW LOOK AT THE PAIN I JUST BROUGHT YOU!"

No one listened as the individual went through a silent Hell........along with the thoughts that began to take life.....they began to feel that maybe their tormenter was right.

They decided to become the judge and jury.....and cut off the lights.

Father....please help those of us who fail to display empathy.  We are so judgemental ....even though you have told us not to be.  Forgive us Lord....and give us to encourage each other......not tear down each other.  We all have to live together.......Amen.

Words.....use with caution or think before you speak.

Oh, as I lay upon My bed
in the midnight hour
thoughts of You pass through My head
Oh, a phantom of you dances before Me
you are so near and yet so far
those words I'd wish I'd said
a desperate fever takes hold of Me
Oh, how to make you mine?
Oh, how to let You know
that you mean the world to Me?
I toss and turn the whole night through
time passes oh so slowly
the clock ticks at a snail's pace
tomorrow! tomorrow!
Oh, what do I do? what do I say?
I struggle with words in My head
what if the wrong words do not come?
and I lose You forever?
unbearable this timeless agony
Oh, better to just come and say My mind
then if from You I'm parted
life and rime and reason
have lost there meaning
better to die than face that lifeless life
Oh, My sweet tormenter
You have made Me lose all reason
Oh, how you have crucified My heart!
suspended between heaven and earth
in a timeless agony
I stumble over words with stammering lips
Oh, I will pursue You forever
if a fool I am
than a fool I shall ever be
Oh,how all life and limb
are as nothing to Me
for who can bear this timeless agony
and the torture of the snail's pace clock
for You are life to Me
and so Myself and heart revealing
I place all online
like the men who bled and died
upon thermopyae's sands
Oh, how You hold My life
and soul in Your hands

There will come a day when the pain will stop
And it will not be the day I die
It will come from a different source
Some place holy
Some place beautiful
Some place like the corners of your smile
Where I can hide away from my fears
And feel normal

In the Blue-green hue of your eyes
And the gentle flow of your hair between my fingers
I could stay there forever
Without worry
Or sorrow

The tap of your fingers on your pencil
Quake through my mind
Sending fissures through my heart
You’ve changed the landscape of my body
Goose bumps rise like mountains from the earth
When words fall from your lips
Into my soul

The voices in my head are quite around you,
And no one else.

But you didn’t feel the same
At first,
I thought things would be different this time
I’d be able to keep you
But I should’ve known
You were too good to be true
I’d never deserve you

You were absolute perfection
I fell for you at an accelerated velocity
It shouldn’t have happened
I had put up so many walls
Around my dying, broken heart
And you found a way in
You learned my secrets
You learned me

I told you all the ways that I had been broken
And you wanted to fix them
But all you did was reopen the cracks in my soul
I was torn to bits
My razors were no longer retired
The pills began to scream again.
You’ll never see the scars
Carving your name into my skin

I don’t want to burden you with the thoughts
That you were the cause of both
My joy
And distress
My hopes
And my relapse

You’ve changed me more than you will ever know
I almost wish we had never met
But then I would have never know true beauty
Or learned of how the sunrise
Mirrors the setting of a moon.

Looking back,
I wouldn’t change a thing
You came into my life for a reason
You may have taught me some lesson
That I have yet to realize
But I will soon understand

And for that,
I thank you.
For the pain,
The relief,
The yearning,
The realizations.

You are the worst,
Most beautiful thing,
That has ever come into my life.
You are an unknowing tormenter of my heart
You broke me,
Without even realizing it

I now hide behind the mask of a forced smile
And an insincere laugh
I put on a façade of happiness
For you
So that you will never know what you did to me

I will not taint your optimism
Know that you are a helper
And not a harmer
You have stopped the blade
More than you have ran it through my veins

You are someone that creates
Not destroys
I’m sorry for making you into a monster
And pillager of my hope.
When all I wanted
Was to make myself safe
In the corners of your smile.

IV - The Lost Trumpet. (April 2011).

A girl loses her trumpet
and she’s ever so sad.
She can’t find it
but a young boy does.
He searched high and low,
to and fro,
before spotting it
and giving it back.
The girl is delighted,
falls in love straight away.
They marry.
The boy stops a tormenter
from hurting his girl.
Ears bleed.
Then the girl says she is moving on.
The boy doesn’t like this
so tries to win her back;
he locates her and they sleep under stars.
They wake up together.
To be continued?

V - The Moment. (May 2011).

Bus.
Way back to school.
Can’t remember the day.
Talking as usual about the upcoming end.
P says how about doing a simple thing, not too big.
Something like chocolates or flowers, why go over the top?
Flowers, doesn’t everyone do that?
But it’s May, only a month to go.
Flowers it will have to be.
Red and pink.
Great.

VI - The Discussions. (21st/22nd June 2011).

So, are you ready? Here’s how it will go…
I’ll sit the exam, you turn up towards the end.
We’ll meet up in the common room and walk back to my town,
down to the florists, then somehow go back to school
without anybody seeing them all before quarter past one.
No, wait...

Later…

Change of plan, I’ll sit the exam still,
two and a half hours, I know, but anyway, you meet me
in the common room once it’s over, then we’ll go into town
because there’s actually a florists there, didn’t know that earlier,
buy them, make sure no one sees us,
head back to school, all before quarter past one right?
Wait for her to arrive, then you dash off with them,
I relax with a nice brew in class, and right at the end
when she’s getting on the bus I come up to you,
take them, run to her,
give them to her before she goes, mutter what needs to be said
and then it’s over. Maybe a hug, who knows?
This has to work. If it all goes wrong
there’s the envelope from the other month to hand over in its place.
Got that? Good.
She’s bound to ruin it though ain’t she?

Hi, I'm just writing to say that I'm sorry I'm ****** up.
I'm sorry I can't do anything productive. I'm sorry I ******* up my siblings with my clothes and my music.
I'm sorry I'm a monster. I tried... I'm trying... But its hard....
I don't want to hate you but I do. I don't want to blame you but I do.
I blame you for teaching me that Jesus was the only life. I blame you for not even warning me of what this world can turn into.
I blame you for not being strong enough to get over my dad when he cheated on you.
I don't want to. But I do.
I blame you for marrying someone new when you weren't over Him yet.
I blame you for letting that imposter become the source of my brothers confidence issues.
I blame you for my 8 year old brother developing multiple social and mental problems simply because you couldn't control your husband.
Because he was righteous and a woman shouldn't stand up to her man.
I know its childish and I know I'm selfish.
And I claim that completely. I am who I am despite who you are.
I don't want you to take claim for what I've become.
I don't want you to tell your friends about the monster you made.
I want you to realize I am myself of my own accord.
I choose to be unhappy and I'm **** proud of that.
And I love you, though I wish I didn't.
I love you for finally leaving my brother's tormenter, even if it was later rather than sooner.
I love you for crying for my grandmother on her deathbed after you ignored for two years.
I love the fact that you cared enough, at one point in time, to try to keep me from becoming who I am today.
I don't know if these are good reasons and I don't know if you care.
But I blove you my mear dother, and I lame you.

They say walk a mile in another man’s shoes
But why must you be asked to go so far?
Isn’t it enough that he lives and breathes
To know that one day he will bear your scar?
It may seem that life gave him free reign
He hurts others and expects to be forgiven
But you have not witnessed his punishment
It is not God’s plan to reveal when he will be driven
Into the desert of scorched lament and sorrow
The clock will strike when God makes the decision
The test is not only in bearing your own pain
But also in our discomfort with God’s random precision
The one you hate suffers more than you will ever know
Because his conscience burns deep into his heart
And when he faces you in his unrepentant guise
You must ask did God give you the power to make the sea part?
Did God hand you the hammer and the nails?
Did God hand you the judgmental stone?
Did God ask you to be the tool for retribution?
Or is today the day for you to atone?
To lower your gaze and be the truth
The truth of humility and an open heart
Not to be hurt once again as before
But to show that God is the one who makes the sea part
And as you walk in fear towards an image beyond crashing walls
The pain you bore is trampled under your feet
The worthiness of the forgiver has been written for a thousand years
And on this day you will begin the journey your tormenter could never complete

today, sir, is the day to say thank you
and my way to do so, ermh --
is to write you a poem
i don't know about your past but your

knowledge of mine is vast
you knew me better than my parents
and you spotted the real me during our therapy never said my "father" that he

was proud of me -- but you did, you revealed in me the true kid because you have the gift to lead people to the place where their truth is; most people join the rat race, but you always kept the same pace and you

made it to erase my shame, healing people is what you're here for, reliable and faithful, and regardless of any writer's fame: YOU HAVE A NAME... an inner flame of kindness glows in your soul, you released me from my

blindness, and you helped me dealing with my tormenter: cole, i never felt that you played a role, i sensed you are whole, may god bless your four daughters, and i wished YOU had been my father, but thats fine: cause you

became a father figure, and soon i figured that your goodness makes you richer than a person owning millions, i do thank you a billion times for being
a mirror who is speaking, at our first session i

shivered, but hid it, you opened me, and noted nothing down, you just listened and saved me from drowning
each letter is for you, each word proves my gratitude how can you have this attitude? how do you do this?

im not idealizing, yet, you're my idol, cause you taught me bout my anger, that as a child, i never had a man as a rival, i had lost my destination and you were my arrival

Fakhri Khalik, you were my arrival.
You stopped my denial.
You are a huge part of my survival.

You are my arrival, I am your disciple.

Forever Yours.

Max

Let me be
asleep and free,
borne up in the arms
of the Willow Tree,

floating on
in ship or drawn
by boughs over stream
without eyes for dawn.

Light my way
where playful fey
disguised as fireflies
spring onto the bay.

Here no wraith
in nightmare waits;
no starved tormenter
may claw past the Gate.

Castle looms
seaside, with rooms
of silver stars and
night skies caught in blooms.

Pools too clear
to rob, my dear,
mystical creatures
of their mirth or cheer

find inside
solace to hide,
their well-kept secrets
not stolen nor spied.

Sleep that can
bear mortal man
to reams of Faerie,
can you waking ban?

The mountain piercing through the cloud
warm volcanic rock
quietly sleeping in it's shroud
this mordant hidden clock

Dormant and alone
she clutches to the centre
inhabitants understand her goal
she is no longer their tormenter

Rugged and timeless the mount appears
exuding a natural calm
serene are the sweet tears
as if she's reading psalms

From my silvery bird I see her
beckoning me from the skies
her message is very clear
never telling any lies

The landmark I have come to love
promising many leisures
the people, the life, I see above
exulting many treasures

Landing I know I am home
reunited with mount Tiede
never leaving her alone
her tentacles always find me

Rodney the Tormentor came toward me,
a slick sneer edging the mug of his leering mouth.

He prepared the next barb garnished with a delicate sliver of dry ice.
What was he going to find to ridicule this time?

My hair too long, too short?
The art assignment a pathetic attempt at literature?

My bowling action; a cross between a mental patient and a broken wind-mill?
Knees too bulbous for any normal person?

I thought, not today.

I’ve had this, like this, for almost two years
everyday
each day a new torture, a new laceration of clean practiced words
and me accepting the torment with the dull weariness that comes only from unkind relentless repetition

allowing the beast fresh meat
thinking, hoping one day he’ll stop
surely he’ll tire of the incessant need to ridicule
believing one day the ‘****’ jokes will dry up

but they never do

such is the never-end brutal articulation, the
verbal incision, the cruel words of blunt destructive beauty:

teenage confidence stumbling like a novice boxer
dribbling with fresh bruises

but not today
the animal hunted turns
to find precision and strength in defiance  

it is the time to wound the wounder
and then all
that follows

‘Rodney the Tormenter’  going down       the windless scream of one blow
two years in the forging           one first and final blow
one strike                               one out

a fist gutting                                        and nothing gets back up

the art gallery attendent           the other students on excursion
the teachers,  all as if complicit in retribution, like a magicians audience
look the other way

and Rodney down                       solar-plexus perplexed

the swift shock in defeat
and a new entry in the part of Rodney’s brain that stores
future possible outcomes to hitherto unchecked actions

decades later I can still see his face in that ghastly micro-moment: pain, shock, horror
and most surprisingly


relief.







MChallis © 2005/2014

I sleep but even in my evening slumber
Hear the sounds of summers coming thunder
Cringing and receding from the screeching sound of screaming
Mother earth beseeching while her creatures keep retreating
Scorch marks scar the fragile dirt
Pox and plague for self centered worth
Rain drops heavy as anvils
Hitting ******* my ceiling tiles till
They plunder my vacant eyes robbing them of their wonder
I turn to my tormenter screaming at the thunder
Be gone foul tempest haunt me no more
For I am but a fragile human being and you’re a superior storm
With your vaporous manifestation shocking presentation in fluid form
The storm replied shattering the stillness of my life
With a bolt two feet to the left of me that seared my eyes
Sockets dry the storm left no tears to cry
Singed I sobbed silently heaving and weeping
**** you nature

She hears beyond ten,
the sound of one hand clapping.
Nothing comes to mind

Business of being
is busybodying self,
needs no false witness

Mental o' pedal
tormenter love to meddle
what a nomenclature  

Left behind, acres
of forest writings. None
the wiser on walls

This life's an empty
breath.  A garden ain't here to
impress or placate.

Dumpty the great fall,
silent while branches grew tall.  
Come hear, creator

Scrolling through the past
Is informational
It reminds us of who we once were
And who we've become
Rediscovering feelings
We had almost forgotten we had
And we'd shared them with the world
And we didn't do half bad
I thought I'd never escape her
Her iron grip leaving bruises where she held us
But we did
We made it
Life got a little better for it too

We aren't fixed
We are still sad
We still have depression
But it's not as bad as it was
She's gone from our lives
Our abuser
Tormenter
Stepmother

And she dares to call herself a fighter

What I loved about you I've forgotten over time
That original loving spark will not come back to mind
The good times have gone, left me completely stunned
My heart's an empty bank, no love left in the fund

Your refusal to be there for me when I need it most
Has been the cause, of my all consuming ghost
Haunting me with thoughts of ending our romance
I doubt I can give our love a second chance

Too much muddy water has passed under our bridge
Tacky under foot setting hard like stale porridge
Sealing my emotions into one steady course
Leaving is the answer, and I'm filled with remorse

Grief devours my soul at the thought of losing you
My nightmares, are the arguments that always continue
The rocky path is strewn with disintegrated holes
Hard to walk upon the ground and need a firmer hold

So I carry on regardless and let indiscretions slip
Keep a low profile and dodge oncoming dips
Wondering what on earth is keeping this alive
You have become a habit which I keep at my side

You are my tormenter, my conscience and my muse
Seeing inside my head, and know I can't refuse
My future is unclear, but you see me coming back
Without you in my life, it's confidence I lack

My father once said to me,
“good luck, kid”

there was malice
in his voice,
there were tears
in my eyes

and I didn’t understand
why we were fighting,
but this was a dance
I knew the steps to
like I knew my father’s anger
was a poison that had been
seeped into my very bones

even then,
his anger was the most
consistent thing he ever
gave to me,
and a broken part of me
craved it, because at least
then he was paying attention
to me

and my father,
he never knew how to
be a father,
moving an hours long train
ride away and wondering
why I was afraid to stay
with him, this man
that I hardly knew
and only ever saw
when I looked in the
mirror

and I can’t remember
when my father stopped
being my hero,
when I stopped wanting
to be like him,
when protector became tormenter,
but it’s been long enough
to make me fearful
and resentful of this man,
whose face and mannerisms
I so happen to share

and and and
my father once said to me,
“good luck, kid,”
and I almost said back to him,
“I don’t need good luck,
I just need a father”

but I don’t think that’s
true anymore, and if
there’s one thing my father
taught me,
I should never tell a lie

My eyes are haunting
Your lies are daunting
My mind is fading
From all your hating

I hear you calling
You see me falling
You are smiling
I am breaking

My pain is fading
Your words are swirling
My voice is cracking
Your patience is thinning

You aren’t laughing
But you are taunting
I am crying
I am dying

I was hated
I was faded
I was abandoned
I was jaded

You were the torturer
You were the tormenter
You were the slaughterer
My worst enemy, my murderer