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You ever had a feeling
That you wanted to die?
And acted on this feeling
And you survived
And questioned why
You're still alive?

You ever had a,
Ever had a feeling?
That made you wanna,
And acted on this feeling.

You ever had a feeling
That rids you of all reason?
And makes you hate your very being?
You are blind
And I'm searching for a feeling

Can't find a feel,
Because none of it is real
I'm traumatized
You say that it's not real

You are blind
And searching for a feeling,
I'm.
Nothing like waking up after another failed suicide. Again.
Cunning Linguist Nov 2013
[Verse 1]
Monster sized swag; not modest bout my splendor
Marvel at the flag and I'm the ultimate avenger
Buck Rodgers, D-Bird yep I'm the number one contender,
So I gotta uphold this rep of bein uncontrollable
so I'll take the lead, I hold the world beneath my feet
I'm a fiend, elite
Haze so cloudy cause I be blowin Swisher Sweets
Drug addiction is my disease
It's my expertise
See here's the masterpiece:
Raps lobotomize
I'm traumatized since 1993

[Verse 2]
Victimized by the lies
of this trifilin enterprise
You can front but you can't hide
There's no fault behind your eyes
So I hope this insult will suffice
It should come as no surprise
A grin will spread across my face
From side to side
My ***** mouth will mesmerize
hypnotized, memorize
the words that escape my lips
I'm a degenerate unabridged uncut
You're a ******* ****
Go hang yourself from a bridge
Here's a rope, I hope you choke

******* ******* smoochie smoochie
Only chains you got is Gucci
Y’all basic brothers rep that set
But fake like that 2chi

[Verse 3]
man I get so high,
Now watch me get higher
Watch me take flight
As my wings soar skyward
You know I'ma fighter
So watch me take my place
As I eat this rap game up
and then spit it in your face
Now pass me a lighter
see me rollin while I bake
I mean I'm not a pastry maker,
but I still bake for the sake
My rhymes are so ill
They're gonna make you sick
I be tweetin on my twitter
While Betty Crocker ***** my ****, uh

[Verse 4]
Reid between the lines son and please proceed with caution
Alien splittin kilos, I be one tweaked ****** martian
I'm five steps ahead and these haters ****** forfeit
You four feet tall and I'm so high I'm in ****** orbit
Make these snitches sleep with fishes
How ****** vicious spittin mischief
****** trippin out these hypocrites
Dishin out these disses which
Bein inconsiderate
in this fast paced game of chase
But if I wanted to catch your drama
I'd just go check my facebook page *****
"Reid between the lines son.." Is a double entendre, my name is Reid so it's saying I'm between lines of snorting *insert illicit substance* and read between the lines. Buck Rodgers and D-Bird are a couple rap aliases from in the day.
elle jaxsun Jan 11
dad doesn't think it's important
to address his life's trauma.

instead, he takes it, as his father did
and passes it to me with both hands flying from all sides.

mom doesn't think it's important
to address her life's trauma, either.
instead, she helps father pass it on with the,
"wait until he gets home."

she is too traumatized to pass it on herself,
not so traumatized that she can't help pass it
along with the help of another.

and i take it from them, carry it all--

finding safe places to hide it.
finding safe people to confide in
who may see the light in it--
maybe even help me carry some
before i drown in it

or worse:
before i pass it on, too.
had to get it out. probably gonna rewrite it a few times.

hope everyone's having a great 2019 so far.

edited: 01292019
Deb Jones Oct 2017
I carried you for almost 7 months.
A small person in
My small 14 year old body.  
I loved you with passion and fire.
I would whisper songs to you
Because I was not allowed to sing.
I would hold pillows as practice.  
To holding you.
I would read to you in a whisper
Because he was illiterate.
And was jealous I knew how to read.  
I lost you in a bathtub.  
It was the place I crawled to when
I saw the blood.
We didn't have a phone
I couldn't call anyone.
I screamed for my mother
As I clawed at the porcelain.  
I screamed to God
As I clawed at my swollen stomach.
The blood flowed.
I watched it pool at the drain.  
Light at first, watery
Growing darker by the minute
Then begin to flow heavier.
The pressure to push was immense.
I wasn't even knowledgeable enough
To know my ******* would be in the way.
Until I felt your head inside them
I tore them off.  
And you slipped out
Like a little eel.
You were perfect.
I held you and threw my head back
And screamed at the spotted
Rain damaged ceiling.
When I delivered the placenta
I thought my insides were falling out.
I knew before you even came into the
World that you would never see it.
You had stopped moving 5 hours before.
My little girl child.
Who was killed.  
Stomped out of me by her
Own 19 year old father.
Because I refused to iron a shirt for him
To go out on a "Date"
He came home the next morning.
Still high.
I had wrapped you in one of the two
Baby blankets I had.
After I washed both of us in the tub.
Where I marveled at the beauty of you.
All of your tiny fingers.
All of your tiny toes.
The way your legs were a froggy pose.
The roundness of your tummy.
The softness of your palm
Which is where I whispered
I love you over and over again.
I sobbed how sorry I was
Over and over again too.
As I cradled you naked
In my arms.
In that old bathtub
I begged him to bury you.
He refused and left for work.
Ran really. He ran out the door.  
I didn't know it was ******,
I didn't know it was illegal.
So I buried you like I would
A beloved pet.
In my favorite purse.
With you in a diaper
Swaddled tightly in that baby blanket.
Under a tall palm tree.  
Away from the scorched side
That I had burned the month before.
I only had boys after you.
I think you would have
(Loved life) Loved them.
You are only 10 months older
Than your oldest brother.
I still have your baby book
All the notes I wrote for you.
I stopped writing in that book
The day before I had you.
There are no words to say
Nothing that could've been writ
That I haven't said a million times
In my mind and heart daily.
Mine were the only arms that ever held you
Mine were the only eyes that seen you
I will carry you with me every day of my life

I hate ceramic Cherubs.
They remind me too much of you.
You never had a chance to live.
You didn't have a proper death
Beneath the rain stained ceiling
In that ramshackle shack.



I have lost 2 babies. One was stomped out of me at 7 months. One that I miscarried.  

I personally would not have an abortion but I feel that every woman has the right to choose. I will never judge.

I have seen too many women have spontaneous abortions. One memorable one is a 13 year old who delivered a baby at approximately 20 weeks. I intubated and used a resuscitation bag between her legs because the baby was only half delivered. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child's waist. She didn't survive.

The fetus starts developing the heart, spinal cord, kidneys etc... at about 5 weeks, at 6 weeks the heart starts beating, the baby can have hiccups, **** on their hand and grow fingernails.

I feel very sad that some women don't carry to term. I have had a lot of patients with Down syndrome. They are filled with happy love. And give the most loving hugs. But most also need lifetime care. (Unless extremely high functioning) who will love and protect them after the mother is gone? These are valid thoughts we women have. Not just about the wellbeing of the young baby but the adult child.

I have also supported women who via ultrasounds/sonography find that the baby has Anencephaly. This is not such a rare thing as people think. No brain or the skull is open. The prognosis for a baby like that is typically less than a day after they are born. Some women want to carry to term just to hold their baby. Some women choose to abort.

My sister had a Anencephalic baby. She found out at almost 6 months. She was injected with seaweed to widen the ****** and to absorb the moisture in the ******. Basically killing the baby with salt and suffocation. Then the baby was removed in pieces. I did not tell her the details of what was happening to her body. She would have been traumatized more. And honestly? She wouldn't have wanted to know.

I think the majority of women that choose abortions mourn their child. Your body is  forced into thinking it had a baby. And most women go through a period of postpartum feelings including depression.

I worked for years in NICU. A neonatal intensive care. Some babies were born at 1 pound or less. The thing about working with pediatrics, neonate in particular, is that you see some horrific births. Chromosome anomalies that don't survive to even childhood. And the traumatized parents are heartrending.

Sorry for writing a book. I feel passionate about this subject. I will stop here
I was married at 14. A choice my mother made to emancipate me from the courts as a foster child.
charley gwenn Mar 2015
i wonder, when you think about me
and all the things you think i was, and did
do you remember
that i was seventeen?
do you know that you traumatized me?
do you know that there is a year
that i don't remember
because of you?

i wonder, when you think about me
and visit all my old haunts
lurking, looking for a weakness
a nearly healed wound
to open back up again
i wonder, do you still see me
as the predator
and not the prey?

i wonder, when you think about me
do you remember
what really happened
or just what you told them?
have the lies transformed
changed shape, through sheer will
and become the truth?
what am i to you?

i wonder, when you think about
what happened in southern california
do you remember my words
my trembling body in your arms
the tears that never seemed to stop
the photos you cropped me out of
or just the things you'd decided
that i'd done?

a painting knocked off the wall
while i slept on the couch
that i couldn't have reached standing up
a statue that i did my best to fix
the ***** in the sink that nobody saw
the nine panic attacks that just had to be fake
do you even remember the truth?

i wonder, when you think about me
in the night, wherever you live now
do you still hurt, deep down
like a scar that never healed
do you carry regrets in your heart
or is there just the satisfaction
that nobody will ever know
what you really did to me?
Aaliyah Houvener Jul 2018
dupree,
you made me feel like a fool
you built me up to knock me down
I feel like you broke something, not my heart but something deeper
i can't breathe anymore
i wake up thinking you are on me again
you traumatized me
you made me fear again
i loved you with everything i had
but you hurt me beyond repair
Damaged trust and marriage schemes
Held hostage in each others' dreams
Pinned to walls but flailing still
Forgotten values, failing wills
True love waits, we tell ourselves
True love gladly stacks the shelves
True love sets conditions and
True love does the dishes and
Slowly, slowly, we forget
Just why we're here and who we met
Another notch in wrinkled frowns
Where I keep getting lost and found
In roller-coaster ups and downs
I'm lost and lost and lost and found

Missing flights and toxic tongues
Catharsis found in tar-filled lungs
I lost myself in who I wasn't
And in what true love does and doesn't
Not quite gaslit, not quite safe
Playing back the ancient tape
We envy death for constancy-
Besmirching our own consciences
We forgo our emoluments
Too traumatized by precedents
But hush you tell me, no one knows
The pretzel-bending ways we grow
Forever twisting round and round
Lost and lost and lost and found

Now freaking out, now breaking down
Now glaciers found in evening gowns
Now agonizing 'Who am I?'s
Now dying fire in your eyes
At last the sunset settles debts
We tally up our last regrets
Relenting to incessant ghosts
Abandoning essential posts
Till all that's left is loss and hurt
It burns and burns and burns and burns
And now I choke on orders filled
And mourn alone the youth we killed
I scrape the comb across my nettles
Pricking feelings, bleeding mettle
Finally free from ups and downs,
I find myself on solid ground
Inspired by:
Motion Picture Soundtrack by Radiohead
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EayN_Jj0740
True Love Waits by Radiohead
Rivers by Tallest Man on Earth
Johannah Jeanty Nov 2018
It's always the good ones that go to waste
Can't undo the past yet deleted files I still chase
Loss of identity, leaves me traumatized for phases
Only just a little child, way too young for these foretaste

I miss the time where I taught persons actually cared
I miss the time when I taught that people were there
I miss the time when only Satan was evil
I had to find out that the bads ones were the people.
Just another vent poem from yours truly. For the like hundredth time now. Just saying.
Sometimes I feel like I'm too young for all this "wisdom" contained in my skull.
Classy J Dec 2016
They call me the smartest *****; they look at me like they would at Sauron.  Maybe I am just destined to be defined like an oxymoron, and also why do people shut their doors on me like I was a Mormon. Did I make the right choice when I took the blue pill and moved into Zion? Don’t know how to feel or who or what I should rely on. Bygones are bygones, got to follow the drill, so best not pull any funny ones. Being spied on, got no where to run, after all when your under a dictatorship there is no time for fun, there is only time to train one how to shoot a gun. Blang blam got a cross on fire on my lawn from the dreaded Ku Klux ****.  One extreme to another, what happened to Jesus’s teachings of how we are all heavenly sisters and brothers? **** the American dream; **** this apparent land of the free where anyone from anywhere can attain cream. Not a joke so turn this into a meme, this is serious if you only saw the things which some claim as the unseen.

Open your mind; don’t bind yourself to devilish things that appear kind. Charging up my chakra, hypnotizing you with my words like I’m the unclaimed child of Big Poppa. I am so waka I get yawl flocking to my flame, my bars aint **** yeah they as lit as Mary Jane. Bulking up like Bain, natural leader and I got a big brain. Some stalker ******* get so shady, thinking that I will spend my gravy, or that I will have their baby. Sorry I am not interested in getting rabies or taking a taste of your dead daisy. This is my loot; ***** the only thing I’ll give you is the boot. Scoot away from me, best stray by the bay before I write a restraining order on thee.  What is this world coming to? Harold be it that we stuck in a rut with a storm beginning to brew.  

People say I should stop drinking because I got family duties and responsibilities but I drink because I have to deal with the stress from family duties and responsibilities.  **** it all; **** my *****, better duck down because one punch and you’ll fall. Got the gall, Pokémon master man **** right I’m about to catch them all! I’m super and I like to smash bro, so better hide your ***** and your side **. Classically unclassified, mentally traumatized from a fall out of a genocide. Time to be unfiltered; rhyming from a heart that used to be good but now has been altered. Maybe I am just an oxymoron, just a sly fox that know how to survive because no matter what my hope for a better world will stay strong. I may live in this world but I am not of it, I may continue to give until I decide to say ah **** it! Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t the whole point of being a rapper to make a profit and strive to rap as fast as the speed of sonic? Let me puff some **** and drink till I’m subatomic. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Wouldn’t that be something if I chose to become like everyone else and live out a life of being toxic. So am I ironic or am I just an oxymoron? Don’t give a **** either way because I am iconic and will take anything you haters bring on!
Ivan Brooks Sr Feb 2018
High up above our war-torn city,
On Snapper hills sit the old lighthouse.
For years in storms, she did her duty
Rain or shine without any kind of excuse.

High above our beautiful sandy shores,
Just like a good mother, she watches
not only over vessels but those
Who lost hopes and suffered all kinds of damages.

The light she flashes has for years,
Served as a perpetual beacon of hope
For those with bad memories and fears,
those traumatized by wars who still can't live and cope.

High above Monrovia, she stands
Watching the resilient people below
Survivors of the deadly Ebola strands
Who once refused to bow their heads low.

High above she sits, beyond the Montserrado basin.
At night her light remains the star of the city,
That has endured moaning and crying,
A city that has seen the good, the bad and the ****.

The old lighthouse still stands there today,
directing maritime traffic at night
and flashing light over our beloved city
That for years witnessed a ****** and senseless fight.

IB-Poetry©️
2/19/2018
For 17 years brothers fought and killed each other...she just stood and watch, unable to do a thing.
lmnsinner Apr 2017
Nov 2016 - The Fall Line


~

all the lines of man-made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting,
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution,
remaining hopelessly empty,
defining the watery soluble
inequality of null


~~

The Fall Line

first heard the phrase months ago in Argentina,
standing before the c-shaped Iguazu Falls

the fall line
where the crystalline basement rock
erodes away the oncoming soft sedimentary,
there, where,
a waterfall is nature-gifted

so intuitive, so obvious,
what else to call the water's owned edge,
line of demarcation,
where we grow captivated,
mesmerized, knee weak,
traumatized and tantalized

knew that instant when spoken,
The Fall Line,
saw inarguable symmetry to so many lives,
would be a someday poem

selective service phrases stored and
someday up recalled,
a thousand, maybe more,
waiting for the confluence of
time and place,
to be a mother

letting my fluid sac burst,
giving birth to a concoction symphonic,
the emotions waterfalling, cascading,
the precision, vision seconds,
when words

pour, gush, surge, spill,
stream, flow, issue, spurt

~~~

silently crafted in the weeks and months prior,
the unconscious drowning in ache and pain
of suffocating drudge sludge of everyday living

all the lines of man made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution remaining empty, defining the inequality of null


the vision infection of the majestic fall line,
so accessible in an instance of overwhelm,
cornea implanted, the sounding call of sweet blissful
whatever

one more additional addiction unshakeable,
jumping from fall line to fall line,
it's the game I am played,
but the controller
is not in my possess

for the joy stick that drives my actions,
toys with me,
the human fool jumping
from fall line to fall line,
unsure of what he desires,


salvation or saving
11/26/16
Val Graz Apr 19
I hate me, I hate everything about me,
The things you can see, and especially those you can't see,
I hate living, getting up every day,
Make money, they say, gotta get paid,
But I can barely stand up in my own skin,
How do I help others, when I can't begin,
I'm stuck like cement in my own body,
And I wanna **** it sometimes, don't tell Mommy,
She's still traumatized,
From all the other times,
I downed a bottle of pills,
Hoping I'd get out of this place,

So someone help me, help me live,
Because it can't always be like like this,
I'm drowning in my own self-loathing,
It's like a permanent set of clothing,
I can't get away from me,
So someone, help me, help me,

I've been reaching for a hand to pull me out for so long,
I'll just keep it hanging here, until I've had enough,
Lonely as the last of their own species,
No one else like me, I guarantee this freely,
Haunted by my childhood, and the demon that possess it,
Caught up in my own head, and all of it's dumb ****,
I can't see two steps ahead, sometimes I can't even see one,
God whoever made me, I hope they were having fun,
To make my pathetic existence worth something at least,
Even if just a stain on some old *** sheets,

So someone help me, help me live,
Because it can't always be like like this,
I'm drowning in my own self-loathing,
It's like a permanent set of clothing,
I can't get away from me,
So someone, help me, help me.
Rue Sep 2018
I can't calculate your next response

You're boring me to death

never surprised to see me
well it seems you never see me at all

trying to give you my heart
not my soul

I know how to speak
I can't read love

I only know how to write it

flowers in a crystal vase

I'm filling up empty holes

I'm throwing away all of my secrets

he says
don't ask me for favors

It's impossible to ever tell him

I don't want to be honest

I don't know how to be

I'm tired of living traumatized
of it all

I'm trying to give you
my heart

waiting for your response
Merlinda JTT Jan 20
I am a bottle of wine deep
Merlot
Alone in my apartment I am free
I blow off plans to dance with acquaintances I could care less about
But I insta message a guy I could care about even less than these acquaintances

My dear friend texts me, his cat dying of cancer, and both their pain too tremendous
I have nothing to say

I feel all of the pressure in the world to **** these two men
to comfort them and fulfill what they expect and need

when did I become the girl that everyone knows they can ****?
should I be proud? I am not ashamed, but it makes me sad,

No one wants me, they want what I have

bubbles, excitement enthusiasm,

No one cares about what I am

sad, scared, traumatized, alone.

I need constant attention and reassurance, but I manifest it to being a party girl, ******* every ******* guy who comes her way, and leading on any girl foolish enough to feel a bit of genuine emotional connection.

I cut off my friends, and I fool my loved ones.

I am a dark person, in a light space. Or is it the other way around?

I don't know, but I can't stop thinking about *** long enough to figure it out.
jcl Jun 27
i look out into dark, savoring the quiet, the stillness of new dawn, wondering who die today, whose life will end and whose will change forever, sending a shock of wave of pain and grief from an epicenter of a dead soldier

who will die today, whose mother wife daughter will cry today, whose father son brother will fall today

the sun has risen, reality has set in, its time to ride, its time for some to die, we roll the dice, who will land snake eyes

to sit in the humvee, knowing you are playing russian roulette, you can’t  have hope, no inkling of a dream, lose the desire, it is the only way to survive, knowing you may die, give up all hope, consider yourself dead, be grateful at the end of the day when you are not. the drive down suicide alley, like the walk up gallow’s stairs. now i know how they felt. you surrender to fate. you stop thinking, you stop feeling, you go numb.

no longer in control, my life is no longer mine to live or die

i don’t believe in You, not since i was a boy, but i pray, that if we hit an IED, that i die instantaneously. i don’t want to lay on the ground, feeling the horror of dying, crying that i want to live, screaming out for my mother like i’ve seen happen to other guys

there are things worse than death, the living hell of coming home in pieces, physically damaged, emotionally traumatized, spiritually disillusioned, which slowly erodes and destroys your life. a new war, another battle, this time at home, fought in your head. the cycle of trauma 6-9-12, addiction, depression, how long do you let yourself free fall till you hit rock bottom

i am a man, i am not suppose to be afraid, but i am, i can’t show or say, not to them, especially not to you. i am not allowed to show fear, be vulnerable, you will lose respect, stop loving me, tell me to man up, in some subtle way

when everyone has left, everything lost, when the pain is greater than the fear. you must, you will, reach out, or die in combat, killed in action, in the war fought in your mind.
nellie Jul 14
internet ****
and the way it inflicts
you with fingers grazed of violent liquid
of haunting maniac devilish eyes
with wrinkles seeped into their skin
and the prey who is barely eight
who has a future that may be bright
and your hidden manhood
and your tight rope pulling me
in
and the way the eight year old seeks reassurance
and love
from your disgust pleased smile
and who is it
but my fault?
and the prey who seeks more
horrific imagery  
the bottom of humanity
who seeks the horrors hidden deep
internet ****
who seeks others and does not understand
who sees herself in them
who blames herself
who is traumatized for life
and in a constant fight
tinhearts Jun 2018
Oncoming trains stop in ghost towns
Riding the rails searching for a cozy habitation
High minded bright future let downs
All aboard! This trains on a mission

Seeking out souls with open invitations
Unaware of evil thirsty and dry
Creeping through tainted music, games that ****** the minds limitations  
Subtle is a lonely heart catching the line

Suffering in silence
The victims of evil onslaught
Driven into oblivion’s ice
Petrified convinced naught

Gravity builds these towers
Captives chained for loss
Never a spark of light as these wallflowers
Crippled within tracks of albatross

Loved ones just roll their eyes
Misunderstanding the tormented soul’s daunted pain
Doctors give meds to subdue disguise
Exchanging hallucinations to the already traumatized shackled in shame

Such wide spread casualties swept under society’s carpet in legions
Doctors don’t have a clue
Jesus said demons like these
It’s with much prayer that they can be rescued

Darkness lies and deceives
To keep the Light at bay
Force feeding anger towards themselves misleads
As gangrene eats at its prey

Whistle blows to gather momentum
Picking up speed aborting sleep in endless nights
Hungover in a lifeless form of
incompetence within them
Despair heightens as curtains close melting in paranoia bites

Listen to one who escaped
Through a crack in the light of day
Waiting on the Lord as the whistle blew I begged to liberate
Believing in POWER of Jesus there’s a way

Knowing and trusting is a firm foundation
Don’t anyone tell me it can’t be done
Even Christian drs said no way impossible denunciation
My God performed the impossible and then some

He changed my way of thinking
Not an overnight quick fix
Gradually through His Word continually seeking
I’m off the demons list!

Still the watch keeps on daily
Focusing on Jesus INside
No more dwelling on dark evil history
Just beaming in the afterglow never allowing that whistle to blow out my light

Your hearing from One who knows
The sufferings painfully endured engineering suicides
I’m telling you there is help to those
Who believe and want to end their oncoming train at the core and deride

All aboard!
Or not
Skip the train ride’s *****
Let her pass on by with a blind spot

Your riding on a different wave
High on the power
Being a survivor Jesus saved
Enemies are devoured

In Jesus Name
*
tinhearts~©️
savannah ford Nov 2018
I thought I knew
He said it was too boring for him.
So I didn’t write for a period of time
Maybe that's where I lost a piece of myself

Then I had a cause
That cause became even more ill
My cause was slowly dying
Now, so was I

I had to keep searching for someone to write for.
I looked in dark and unfamiliar places
Getting myself hurt and traumatized in the process.
I had given up
I was done writing

Until one day
I bumped into a new “who”
What made him my favorite was that within him
He had so many other things I could write for

He kept me writing
Made me stronger
Wiser
A better writer

Some of the things I write for hurt me
Maybe that's why I write about them
Maybe i’m writing for healing
Or maybe i’m still just as lost as I was
That would mean i’m writing to find something
Possibly myself?
Kay-Rosa Mar 5
I say  
‘Marguerite Johnson’
and you don’t know.
Who she really was, what  
She really did.

Maya, a childhood nickname turned professional
Angelopulos, past other, Greek and unknown.

She was a poet, a woman of many
words that changed America.
Words that touched our hearts,
Words that opened our eyes
to truth.

She was an actress, in the Obie-winning “The Blacks”,
Off-Broadway, “Calypso Heat Wave”, inspiring her singer.

She was a singer, writer of song.  
West Coast and
Hawaiian nightclubs were once
Embellished by her voice.

She was a dancer, a portrayer of emotion, through movements
Rhythmic and graceful
Calm, phantasmagoric, and beautiful.

She was an author.
She knew why,  
“The Caged Bird” sang.
But, once. She had no voice.

Traumatized and scared. Age seven, suffered at the hands of the distant mother’s boyfriend.
She went mute,
feeling responsible for their crime,

After her uncles rid the world of the problem.  
A candle’s flame blown out.
Mrs.
Flowers

A friend and fellow lover of the spoken word.
Helped Maya find her voice.
Introduced Hughes,
Du Bois, and Lawrence Dunbar.

Then, the canonical Shakespeare,  
Dickens, Poe.

She was a scholar.
She was a mother.  
She was a fighter.

She stood for her rights and the rights of her people.
She stood, side by side, with many known and recognized.
Malcom X.
Martin Luther King Jr.
His assassination on her birthday stopped the celebration forever.

Then she sent flowers to Coretta until her death in 2006.
She was an inspiration.  

I say
“Maya Angelou”
And now you know.
Dan Jul 29
This
Is
Ragnarok
The violent end of worlds you’re pagan ancestors feared
Watch as the strikes from Thor steal your comrades from you
No Valkyries to guide you
No Valhalla to welcome you
Ankle deep in mud and rats and **** you load your rifle begging the God you believe in that you won’t have to **** another man

How did you find yourself here?
An Englishman fighting Germans in France
Because a Serbian killed an Austrian in Bosnia
Or an Italian, 43 years after your country was unified
Or a Serbian, longing to free your countrymen from Austro-Hungarian oppression
Or maybe your a Russian, a Frenchman, a Turk

Hear the whistle blow
Now is your time to storm from the trenches into razor wire and the the hail of bullets
You will likely be slaughtered
Like the 40,000 French soldier during one week of the war
This is a tragedy
But this is also a holy experience
Like for T E Lawrence
Fighting for a cause he never thought he would believe in
Or Ernst Jünger
Surviving bullet after bullet
Endless bombardments
This is the heroes journey
Do not let your children’s children take away from your sacrifice
When they say you died for nothing
You believed in your nation and you believed in yourself

Do not let them take that away from you
You who returned home and were ignored if not simply forgotten
Who returned home missing limbs, missing homes, missing loved ones
You who were traumatized shell shocked
Who could not return home
Who returned to what was supposed to be home
But life went on without you
So you found those who fought with you
From your bonds you formed brotherhoods
Formed paramilitaries

But that all comes later
Right now you look death in the eyes and can’t help but laugh
Laugh to keep yourself from crying
Laugh because you have never felt more alive than in this moment and never will again
And in this moment you can’t help but cry out
AVANTI
ARDITI
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