Help
I don't know whether this is classed as poetry but was sent to me at a difficult time. It helped me so I thought I would share it
I HAVE THE RIGHT...
to live according to my own conscience, not someone else's.
to make my own choices about priorities, and live accordingly.
to make decisions based on my feelings, intuition, values, needs, capabilities or anything I choose to base them on.
to say no to anything that I'm not prepared to do.
to refuse anything that's against my values or feels too dangerous.
to protect myself from threatening behaviour, humiliating attitudes and hurtful words.
not to trust and believe in people and things that don't feel trustworthy or credible.
to say yes to whatever helps my own growth and well-being.
to trust and believe in people and things on whatever grounds I choose to.
to forgive others and myself.
to find and learn to know my inner child.
to feel whatever I feel about my past.
to have all feelings I do, and to express them.
to be disappointed and sad for what I didn't get even though I'd have needed it, or what I got and didn't want to have.
to be angry even at one I love, when (s)he frustrates my needs or violates my rights.
to be fearful, feel unsafe and be careful.
to feel good when someone else feels bad, and vice versa.
to ask for what I feel: closeness, distance, togetherness, privacy, etc.
to take care of myself.
to want, dream of, and long for anything.
have my feelings, needs, values, wants and choices appreciated.
not to assume responsibility and guilt for others' feelings, needs, values, choices or behaviour.
to expect another person to act honestly and justly.
to be different: more healthy, sicker, weaker, stronger, more hung up, less hung up etc. than others.
to be tempted, to fail, to make mistakes and to be imperfect.
to learn, to change and to grow, anytime and all the time.
As I'm not a slave of my rights, I also have the right to give up any right I have, but from now on I'm going to do it out of love -- never out of fear any more.
IT IS MY DUTY:
to respect these as all other people's rights, too.
Welcome to Pandora's Aquarium, a rape, sexual assault, and sexual abuse survivor message board and chat room.
If you've been a victim of any type of sexual violence, you belong here. What you see below represents just a fraction of the resources and survivor support available. Register now to join our community and take full advantage of what this online support group has to offer you as you heal and recover, or sign in to remove this message.
You are not alone, we can support you as you heal, and you've made an important step toward recovery by reaching out. If you are unable to register or have any questions, please contact the staff or view our home page.
Healing Poetry share poetry that has helped you heal
#47
Posted 08 September 2008 - 08:02 PM
Memory Shouldn't Be...
by Frank Ochberg, MD
and Gift From Within
June, 1993
Memory
Shouldn't be
Shards of a broken dream
Secret pain
Shouldn't strain
Breathlessly to scream
I know the where
I know the when
I know the who too well
Believe me or believe me not
I have a truth to tell
But Mother, if you cannot hear
I'll keep your peace
A day, a year. Forever
If you doubt and fear
Convinces me to silence
Your Honor, if the proof you seek
Is rusted, lost
Too old, too weak, forgotten
Then I shall not speak
Dismiss my plea with silence
It matters not who hears the voice
Once I have understood
The thunder of the truth untold
Will echo in the wood
And judges naked in their robes
Will shudder at the gate
How thin the cloth of innocence
Against the chill of hate
Memory
Shouldn't be
Shards of a broken dream
Secret pain
Shouldn't strain
Breathlessly to scream
I know the where
I know the when
I know the who too well
Believe me or believe me not
I have a truth to tell
by Frank Ochberg, MD
and Gift From Within
June, 1993
Memory
Shouldn't be
Shards of a broken dream
Secret pain
Shouldn't strain
Breathlessly to scream
I know the where
I know the when
I know the who too well
Believe me or believe me not
I have a truth to tell
But Mother, if you cannot hear
I'll keep your peace
A day, a year. Forever
If you doubt and fear
Convinces me to silence
Your Honor, if the proof you seek
Is rusted, lost
Too old, too weak, forgotten
Then I shall not speak
Dismiss my plea with silence
It matters not who hears the voice
Once I have understood
The thunder of the truth untold
Will echo in the wood
And judges naked in their robes
Will shudder at the gate
How thin the cloth of innocence
Against the chill of hate
Memory
Shouldn't be
Shards of a broken dream
Secret pain
Shouldn't strain
Breathlessly to scream
I know the where
I know the when
I know the who too well
Believe me or believe me not
I have a truth to tell
#48
Posted 31 December 2008 - 01:41 AM
I wrote this today... its about how everything that i used to be angry at, everything that i used to hate about myself, i now find to be the most wonderful thigns about me. I love that i have the past that i have, it made me who i am today.
i am happy. this poem is how i am telling people that.
I’ve seen this broken sky before:
A golden rod upon the moor;
And up from mountain’s fountain springs
Fields of roses, nature’s king.
I’ve sat upon this grass at times:
Contemplating ancient rhymes.
Their message sits atop God’s tree,
Like playful goblins, they take flee.
I’ve felt these stinging tears a lot,
Emotions sway from hero’s plot.
Their life a battle once before,
Now battered armor on His shore.
I’ve seen the sky, the grass, my tears.
I’ve seen the world through child’s fears.
I’ve seen this life in favor’s doubt,
I saw it, then I lived without.
Now as I sit upon this life,
A smile spreads like courage’s wife.
I will brawl with seven sins,
I will fight, not die, but win.
I’ve seen this broken sky before,
Not once, till now, did I see more.
i am happy. this poem is how i am telling people that.
I’ve seen this broken sky before:
A golden rod upon the moor;
And up from mountain’s fountain springs
Fields of roses, nature’s king.
I’ve sat upon this grass at times:
Contemplating ancient rhymes.
Their message sits atop God’s tree,
Like playful goblins, they take flee.
I’ve felt these stinging tears a lot,
Emotions sway from hero’s plot.
Their life a battle once before,
Now battered armor on His shore.
I’ve seen the sky, the grass, my tears.
I’ve seen the world through child’s fears.
I’ve seen this life in favor’s doubt,
I saw it, then I lived without.
Now as I sit upon this life,
A smile spreads like courage’s wife.
I will brawl with seven sins,
I will fight, not die, but win.
I’ve seen this broken sky before,
Not once, till now, did I see more.
#49
Posted 31 December 2008 - 03:48 PM
I wrote this myself..
Every lust penatrate the soul
filling up with fear
The silent scream leaves my lips
how could anyone hear?
the silence now that chokes me,
noone could Not fear.....
fingers bloody evidence.
pass through my pounding neck.
through eyes of blinded chaos i see
his true intent..
Seconds drawing closer
against my fighting breath.
Silence so surrounding, save me from this death
black, am i passed out?
dazed mind stop thinking. shredded heart stop beating
helpful eyes glue yourselves shut
pressure growing stronger, more than i can bare; Stronger
Mind can only scream 'how much longer'
every muscle fighting: nothing, not a chance
with one last glance: hair so red, dyed with sweat and blood
Legs of betrayal support the face of evil
Eyes of masked furry
Stop grabbing at my soul
your hands with twisted fingers
are stealing it from its bed.
pain, awake me from this nightmare
heart witness your loves divere
again and again so full and now gone
eyes of masked furry behind each blink with thunder
awaken sweet savior
immortal i stand
With hands of twisted fingers
Ripping fate from its bed
Every lust penatrate the soul
filling up with fear
The silent scream leaves my lips
how could anyone hear?
the silence now that chokes me,
noone could Not fear.....
fingers bloody evidence.
pass through my pounding neck.
through eyes of blinded chaos i see
his true intent..
Seconds drawing closer
against my fighting breath.
Silence so surrounding, save me from this death
black, am i passed out?
dazed mind stop thinking. shredded heart stop beating
helpful eyes glue yourselves shut
pressure growing stronger, more than i can bare; Stronger
Mind can only scream 'how much longer'
every muscle fighting: nothing, not a chance
with one last glance: hair so red, dyed with sweat and blood
Legs of betrayal support the face of evil
Eyes of masked furry
Stop grabbing at my soul
your hands with twisted fingers
are stealing it from its bed.
pain, awake me from this nightmare
heart witness your loves divere
again and again so full and now gone
eyes of masked furry behind each blink with thunder
awaken sweet savior
immortal i stand
With hands of twisted fingers
Ripping fate from its bed
#50
Posted 25 January 2009 - 12:05 AM
Stacey Ann Chin - if only out of vanity. such an awesome awesome AWESOME poet.
If only out of vanity
I have wondered what kind of woman I will be
when I am well past the summer of my raging youth
Will I still be raising revolutionary flags
and making impassioned speeches
that stir up anger in the hearts of pseudo-liberals
dressed in navy-blue conservative wear
In those years when I am grateful
I still have a good sturdy bladder
that does not leak undigested prune juice
onto diapers—no longer adorable
will I be more grateful for that
than for any forward movement in any current political cause
and will it have been worth it then
Will it have been worth the long hours
of not sleeping
that produced little more than reams
of badly written verses that catapulted me into literary spasms
but did not even whet the appetite
of the three O’ clock crowd
in the least respected of the New York poetry cafes
Will I wish then that I had taken that job working at the bank
or the one to watch that old lady drool
all over her soft boiled eggs
as she tells me how she was a raving beauty in the sixties
how she could have had any man she wanted
but she chose the one least likely to succeed
and that’s why when the son of a bitch died
she had to move into this place
because it was government subsidized
Will I tell my young attendant
how slender I was then
and paint for her pictures
of the young me more beautiful than I ever was
if only to make her forget the shriveled paper skin
the stained but even dental plates
and the faint smell of urine that tends to linger
in places built especially for revolutionaries
whose causes have been won
or forgotten
Will I still be lesbian then
or will the church or family finally convince me
to marry some man with a smaller dick
than the one my woman uses to afford me
violent and multiple orgasms
Will the staff smile at me
humor my eccentricities to my face
but laugh at me in their private resting rooms
saying she must have been something in her day
Most days I don’t know what I will be like then
but everyday—I know what I want to be now
I want to be that voice that makes Guilani
so scared he hires two (butch) black bodyguards
I want to write the poem
that The New York Times cannot print
because it might start some kind of black or lesbian
or even a white revolution
I want to go to secret meetings and under the guise
of female friendship I want to bed the women
of those young and eager revolutionaries
with too much zeal for their cause
and too little passion for the women
who follow them from city to city
all the while waiting in separate rooms
I want to be forty years old
and weigh three hundred pounds
and ride a motorcycle in the wintertime
with four hell raising children
and a one hundred ten pound female lover
who writes poetry about my life
and my children and loves me
like no one has ever loved me before
I want to be the girl your parents will use
as a bad example of a lady
I want to be the dyke who likes to fuck men
I want to be the politician who never lies
I want to be the girl who never cries
I want to go down in history
in a chapter marked miscellaneous
because the writers could find
no other way to categorize me
In this world where classification is key
I want to erase the straight lines
So I can be me
(i love the last couple of stanzas the most) youtube this woman to hear this poem performed to get a sense of its true amazing nature
If only out of vanity
I have wondered what kind of woman I will be
when I am well past the summer of my raging youth
Will I still be raising revolutionary flags
and making impassioned speeches
that stir up anger in the hearts of pseudo-liberals
dressed in navy-blue conservative wear
In those years when I am grateful
I still have a good sturdy bladder
that does not leak undigested prune juice
onto diapers—no longer adorable
will I be more grateful for that
than for any forward movement in any current political cause
and will it have been worth it then
Will it have been worth the long hours
of not sleeping
that produced little more than reams
of badly written verses that catapulted me into literary spasms
but did not even whet the appetite
of the three O’ clock crowd
in the least respected of the New York poetry cafes
Will I wish then that I had taken that job working at the bank
or the one to watch that old lady drool
all over her soft boiled eggs
as she tells me how she was a raving beauty in the sixties
how she could have had any man she wanted
but she chose the one least likely to succeed
and that’s why when the son of a bitch died
she had to move into this place
because it was government subsidized
Will I tell my young attendant
how slender I was then
and paint for her pictures
of the young me more beautiful than I ever was
if only to make her forget the shriveled paper skin
the stained but even dental plates
and the faint smell of urine that tends to linger
in places built especially for revolutionaries
whose causes have been won
or forgotten
Will I still be lesbian then
or will the church or family finally convince me
to marry some man with a smaller dick
than the one my woman uses to afford me
violent and multiple orgasms
Will the staff smile at me
humor my eccentricities to my face
but laugh at me in their private resting rooms
saying she must have been something in her day
Most days I don’t know what I will be like then
but everyday—I know what I want to be now
I want to be that voice that makes Guilani
so scared he hires two (butch) black bodyguards
I want to write the poem
that The New York Times cannot print
because it might start some kind of black or lesbian
or even a white revolution
I want to go to secret meetings and under the guise
of female friendship I want to bed the women
of those young and eager revolutionaries
with too much zeal for their cause
and too little passion for the women
who follow them from city to city
all the while waiting in separate rooms
I want to be forty years old
and weigh three hundred pounds
and ride a motorcycle in the wintertime
with four hell raising children
and a one hundred ten pound female lover
who writes poetry about my life
and my children and loves me
like no one has ever loved me before
I want to be the girl your parents will use
as a bad example of a lady
I want to be the dyke who likes to fuck men
I want to be the politician who never lies
I want to be the girl who never cries
I want to go down in history
in a chapter marked miscellaneous
because the writers could find
no other way to categorize me
In this world where classification is key
I want to erase the straight lines
So I can be me
(i love the last couple of stanzas the most) youtube this woman to hear this poem performed to get a sense of its true amazing nature
#51
Posted 19 November 2010 - 03:46 PM
This is a poem by Becky Birtha that has helped me a lot:
You are not broken, beautiful child
Nothing about you is wrong
Other people have made their mistakes on you
but you survived.
You are whole
you will heal
you will be all you ever wanted.
you no longer remain the victim of those years.
Your body is yours
you can fill it with joy
your thoughts are in your control
you feelings are as free as the sound of chiming bells.
you are loved,
you are lovable, beautiful child.
you always were
you are forgiven.
While I now don't really agree that the poem should say "you are forgiven" because there is nothing that we need to be forgiven for because we did nothing wrong, when I'm in a dark place I still feel like I need forgiveness and that line helps.
You are not broken, beautiful child
Nothing about you is wrong
Other people have made their mistakes on you
but you survived.
You are whole
you will heal
you will be all you ever wanted.
you no longer remain the victim of those years.
Your body is yours
you can fill it with joy
your thoughts are in your control
you feelings are as free as the sound of chiming bells.
you are loved,
you are lovable, beautiful child.
you always were
you are forgiven.
While I now don't really agree that the poem should say "you are forgiven" because there is nothing that we need to be forgiven for because we did nothing wrong, when I'm in a dark place I still feel like I need forgiveness and that line helps.
#52
Posted 28 April 2011 - 09:17 AM
This was a poem I wrote myself, so would like to share with you all...
Behind Her Eyes - By Sammie RP
A smile can deceive you through night and day,
Not everyone is honest when they say there okay.
Look into the eyes as they can not lie,
Look for the tears she does not cry.
A wish would be helpful if it was to come true,
But she always knows her life without you.
When the nights are dark she's the one alone,
Wishing there was someone else to come home.
You'll grab her by the heart then crush it in a glance,
Attract her with your charm and lie with your dance.
She see's not your game but believes all your lie's,
But only in her heart will you hear her crie's.
She knows nothing better then words un-spoken,
With her carrie's a heart that has been left broken.
But remember always she'll be perfectly Okay,
You can hurt her again on another day.
Don't guide her to the path of hurt tomorrow,
As she is the only one to feel the sorrow.
Give her no pain to feel deep inside,
For her there is no where else to hide.
This girl has nothing left to which she can lose,
Just a Broken heart with a gentle fuse.
So send her more pain and tell her more lie's
Because she'll never allow you the tears she crie's.
She will carry on and pick herself up right,
But she will still be alone on a cold dark night.
So even when she believe's all of your lie's,
Remember there's much more Behind Her Eyes
Behind Her Eyes - By Sammie RP
A smile can deceive you through night and day,
Not everyone is honest when they say there okay.
Look into the eyes as they can not lie,
Look for the tears she does not cry.
A wish would be helpful if it was to come true,
But she always knows her life without you.
When the nights are dark she's the one alone,
Wishing there was someone else to come home.
You'll grab her by the heart then crush it in a glance,
Attract her with your charm and lie with your dance.
She see's not your game but believes all your lie's,
But only in her heart will you hear her crie's.
She knows nothing better then words un-spoken,
With her carrie's a heart that has been left broken.
But remember always she'll be perfectly Okay,
You can hurt her again on another day.
Don't guide her to the path of hurt tomorrow,
As she is the only one to feel the sorrow.
Give her no pain to feel deep inside,
For her there is no where else to hide.
This girl has nothing left to which she can lose,
Just a Broken heart with a gentle fuse.
So send her more pain and tell her more lie's
Because she'll never allow you the tears she crie's.
She will carry on and pick herself up right,
But she will still be alone on a cold dark night.
So even when she believe's all of your lie's,
Remember there's much more Behind Her Eyes
#53
Posted 28 April 2011 - 09:20 AM
This is another poem I wrote based on the abuse I went through as a child, I want to share this with you all as I think you will be able to relate to this...
My Scars Tell A Story - By Sammie RP
When I look in the mirror I do not see just me,
I see a little lost girl the one I use to be.
The girl that hid away the pain throughout the years,
All the hurt and anger covered up with un-cried tears.
The woman who has done that and been there,
A little lonely soul searching for someone to care.
Through many paths I have crossed and walked a while,
All the time I hide the hurt and show the oscar smile.
Betrayal became a friend of mine. Loneliness too,
All the while I waited for someone like you.
Just someone to wipe the tears away when these eyes do cry,
Life can be hard at times and people will always lie.
I choose the way I wanted to live, the person I wanted to be,
See I am no longer a victim anymore I'm simply just me.
So yes I have this past of mine which is no happy ending,
But I choose not to follow it, this heart of mine is mending.
No matter what I do though, these scars I will always wear,
They are not something you can erase an wish they was not there.
Marked by them always, in my heart they dived,
But my scars they tell a story they say that I survived!!!
.
My Scars Tell A Story - By Sammie RP
When I look in the mirror I do not see just me,
I see a little lost girl the one I use to be.
The girl that hid away the pain throughout the years,
All the hurt and anger covered up with un-cried tears.
The woman who has done that and been there,
A little lonely soul searching for someone to care.
Through many paths I have crossed and walked a while,
All the time I hide the hurt and show the oscar smile.
Betrayal became a friend of mine. Loneliness too,
All the while I waited for someone like you.
Just someone to wipe the tears away when these eyes do cry,
Life can be hard at times and people will always lie.
I choose the way I wanted to live, the person I wanted to be,
See I am no longer a victim anymore I'm simply just me.
So yes I have this past of mine which is no happy ending,
But I choose not to follow it, this heart of mine is mending.
No matter what I do though, these scars I will always wear,
They are not something you can erase an wish they was not there.
Marked by them always, in my heart they dived,
But my scars they tell a story they say that I survived!!!
.
#54
- Group: M Member
- Posts: 719
- Joined: 22-October 09
Posted 04 June 2012 - 02:59 PM
Just Imagine
Imagine a world where children
are free to be who they are.
There is no room for harm or danger,
and they feel safe and secure.
Imagine your life as it is now.
You are an adult and you can stay safe.
There is no room for more pain and hurt.
You need to be safe and secure.
Reach out and touch a life to make it better.
This is part of my hope for a better world.
Together we can make a difference for those
Who are still hurting and being hurt.
Imagine a boy or a girl today being hurt in ways that you were.
Open your arms to all those that are hurting.
There is no time like the present
to make a difference in someone's life.
Imagine a world with only love with no hate.
Where people greet each other with kindness,
and help each other out without a question.
A world full of peace and harmony
Imagine something better than where you are.
I place to feel safe and secure, so you can
be free to find your true self, and share
your new freedom with others who feel as you do.
Just Imagine
and see where it takes you.
Michael Joseph
Imagine a world where children
are free to be who they are.
There is no room for harm or danger,
and they feel safe and secure.
Imagine your life as it is now.
You are an adult and you can stay safe.
There is no room for more pain and hurt.
You need to be safe and secure.
Reach out and touch a life to make it better.
This is part of my hope for a better world.
Together we can make a difference for those
Who are still hurting and being hurt.
Imagine a boy or a girl today being hurt in ways that you were.
Open your arms to all those that are hurting.
There is no time like the present
to make a difference in someone's life.
Imagine a world with only love with no hate.
Where people greet each other with kindness,
and help each other out without a question.
A world full of peace and harmony
Imagine something better than where you are.
I place to feel safe and secure, so you can
be free to find your true self, and share
your new freedom with others who feel as you do.
Just Imagine
and see where it takes you.
Michael Joseph
#55
- Group: M Member
- Posts: 719
- Joined: 22-October 09
Posted 04 June 2012 - 03:07 PM
Do Not Shadow the Good Stuff
Looking back at yesterday
do not shadow the good stuff!
sometimes the pain and hurt may stay
and the flower you picked is thrown away
Was Monday so bad?
Did you see the smile she gave you?
sometimes the pain and hurt hide
what good we feel deep inside
Did Tuesday provide something swell?
Or did you only see the decay inside?
sometimes it is hard to see
the good in things like friends like me!
Did Wednesday show any sunshine?
was there someone to hold you?
sometimes a stanger can be the light
that makes your week turn out bright!
By Thursday was there a glimmer of hope?
The kind old man that listened so well?
sometimes it takes the bad to see all the good
and finally to know that someone understood!
On Friday was it just the end of the work week?
Or did someone remind you of some wonderful thought?
sometimes a kind word is all you need
to clean up your garden of one bad weed!
It’s Saturday and rest is swell
a smile works wonders while with a friend
sometimes happiness shows up like a gift
and behold a wonderful new life shift!
Sunday I hope the week brought some life
surrounding you with sunshine and joy
sometimes you need to breathe deep and see
all the wonderful things life brings to thee.
Each day, week, and year brings so many feelings
choose a beautiful song for the scrapbook in your mind
sometimes we need to sense some pleasure
wonderful memories become your treasure.
By Michael Joseph
Looking back at yesterday
do not shadow the good stuff!
sometimes the pain and hurt may stay
and the flower you picked is thrown away
Was Monday so bad?
Did you see the smile she gave you?
sometimes the pain and hurt hide
what good we feel deep inside
Did Tuesday provide something swell?
Or did you only see the decay inside?
sometimes it is hard to see
the good in things like friends like me!
Did Wednesday show any sunshine?
was there someone to hold you?
sometimes a stanger can be the light
that makes your week turn out bright!
By Thursday was there a glimmer of hope?
The kind old man that listened so well?
sometimes it takes the bad to see all the good
and finally to know that someone understood!
On Friday was it just the end of the work week?
Or did someone remind you of some wonderful thought?
sometimes a kind word is all you need
to clean up your garden of one bad weed!
It’s Saturday and rest is swell
a smile works wonders while with a friend
sometimes happiness shows up like a gift
and behold a wonderful new life shift!
Sunday I hope the week brought some life
surrounding you with sunshine and joy
sometimes you need to breathe deep and see
all the wonderful things life brings to thee.
Each day, week, and year brings so many feelings
choose a beautiful song for the scrapbook in your mind
sometimes we need to sense some pleasure
wonderful memories become your treasure.
By Michael Joseph
#56
Posted 06 January 2013 - 08:42 PM
Apart of Me by ShawnCrane (October 31, 2012)
What you see on the surface is kosher
Tranquil, just like a sedative
I keep the lid sealed on the exposure
Holding back all the negative
Never letting it see the light of day
In this shell, I hide away
These masks camoflauge and disguise my face
Even if I try to escape
This rage will be there wherever I go
Turning me into a psycho
A destructive twisting, spinning cyclone
Raining down, reflecting my soul
Its a mirror image looking at me
And we're both the catastrophe
Living hell where the screams are maddening
Everyday is a tragedy
So I close my eyes praying it will end
But my mind won't let me pretend
It shows me the same sequence once again
Painted the color of bloodshed
Everything's dead, fading into darkness
And nothing's left except carnage
Going back to where it started
An option long since departed
I open my eyes, its gone in a flash
I'm still here and safe from the past
I wonder how long these memories last
Next thing I know, it all went black
What you see on the surface is kosher
Tranquil, just like a sedative
I keep the lid sealed on the exposure
Holding back all the negative
Never letting it see the light of day
In this shell, I hide away
These masks camoflauge and disguise my face
Even if I try to escape
This rage will be there wherever I go
Turning me into a psycho
A destructive twisting, spinning cyclone
Raining down, reflecting my soul
Its a mirror image looking at me
And we're both the catastrophe
Living hell where the screams are maddening
Everyday is a tragedy
So I close my eyes praying it will end
But my mind won't let me pretend
It shows me the same sequence once again
Painted the color of bloodshed
Everything's dead, fading into darkness
And nothing's left except carnage
Going back to where it started
An option long since departed
I open my eyes, its gone in a flash
I'm still here and safe from the past
I wonder how long these memories last
Next thing I know, it all went black
#57
Posted 09 January 2013 - 07:15 AM
Dive by SLAM poet Andrea Gibson
i often repeat myself
and the second time's a lie
i love you
i love you
see what i mean i don't
...and i do
and i'm not talking about a girl i might be kissing on
i'm talking about this world i'm blissing on
and hating
at the exact same time
see life---doesn't rhyme
it's bullets...and wind chimes
it's lynchings...and birthday parties
it's the rope that ties the noose
and the rope that hangs the backyard swing
it's a boy about to take his life
and with the knife to his wrist
he's thinking of only two things
his father's fist
and his mother's kiss
and he can't stop crying
it's wanting tonight to speak
the most honest poem i've ever spoken in my life
not knowing if that poem should bring you closer
to living or dying
drowning of flying
cause life doesn't rhyme
last night i prayed myself to sleep
woke this morning
to find god's obituary scrolled in tears on my sheets
then walked outside to hear my neighbor
erasing ten thousand years of hard labor
with a single note of his violin
and the sound of the traffic rang like a hymn
as the holiest leaf of autumn fell from a plastic tree limb
beautiful ---and ugly
like right now
i'm needing nothing more than for you to hug me
and if you do
i'm gonna scream like a caged bird
see...life doesn't rhyme
sometimes love is a vulgar word
sometimes hate calls itself peace on the nightly news
i've heard saints preaching truths
that would have burned me at the stake
i've heard poets tellin lies that made me believe in heaven
sometimes i picture hitler at seven years old
a paint brush in his hand at school
thinkin what color should i paint my soul
sometimes i remember myself
with track marks on my tongue
from shooting up convictions
that would have hung innocent men from trees
have you ever seen a mother falling to her knees
the day her son dies in a war she voted for
can you imagine how many gay teen-age lives were saved
the day matthew shepherd died
could there have been anything louder
than the noise inside his father's head
when he begged the jury
please don't take the lives of the men
who turned my son's skull to powder
and i know nothing would make my family prouder
than giving up everything i believe in
still nothing keeps me believing
like the sound of my mother breathing
life doesn't rhyme
it's tasting your rapist's breath
on the neck of a woman who loves you more
than anyone has loved you before
then feeling holy as jesus
beneath the hands of a one night stand
who's calling somebody else's name
it's you never feelin more greedy
than when you're handing out dollars to the needy
it's my not eating meat for the last seven years
then seeing the kindest eyes i've ever seen in my life
on the face of a man with a branding iron in his hand
and a beat down baby calf wailing at his feet
it's choking on your beliefs
it's your worst sin saving your fucking life
it's the devil's knife carving holes into you soul
so angels will have a place to make their way inside
life doesn't rhyme
still
life is poetry --- not math
all the world's a stage
but the stage is a meditation mat
you tilt your head back
you breathe
when your heart is broken you plant seeds in the cracks
and you pray for rain
and you teach your sons and daughters
there are sharks in the water
but the only way to survive
is to breathe deep
and dive
i often repeat myself
and the second time's a lie
i love you
i love you
see what i mean i don't
...and i do
and i'm not talking about a girl i might be kissing on
i'm talking about this world i'm blissing on
and hating
at the exact same time
see life---doesn't rhyme
it's bullets...and wind chimes
it's lynchings...and birthday parties
it's the rope that ties the noose
and the rope that hangs the backyard swing
it's a boy about to take his life
and with the knife to his wrist
he's thinking of only two things
his father's fist
and his mother's kiss
and he can't stop crying
it's wanting tonight to speak
the most honest poem i've ever spoken in my life
not knowing if that poem should bring you closer
to living or dying
drowning of flying
cause life doesn't rhyme
last night i prayed myself to sleep
woke this morning
to find god's obituary scrolled in tears on my sheets
then walked outside to hear my neighbor
erasing ten thousand years of hard labor
with a single note of his violin
and the sound of the traffic rang like a hymn
as the holiest leaf of autumn fell from a plastic tree limb
beautiful ---and ugly
like right now
i'm needing nothing more than for you to hug me
and if you do
i'm gonna scream like a caged bird
see...life doesn't rhyme
sometimes love is a vulgar word
sometimes hate calls itself peace on the nightly news
i've heard saints preaching truths
that would have burned me at the stake
i've heard poets tellin lies that made me believe in heaven
sometimes i picture hitler at seven years old
a paint brush in his hand at school
thinkin what color should i paint my soul
sometimes i remember myself
with track marks on my tongue
from shooting up convictions
that would have hung innocent men from trees
have you ever seen a mother falling to her knees
the day her son dies in a war she voted for
can you imagine how many gay teen-age lives were saved
the day matthew shepherd died
could there have been anything louder
than the noise inside his father's head
when he begged the jury
please don't take the lives of the men
who turned my son's skull to powder
and i know nothing would make my family prouder
than giving up everything i believe in
still nothing keeps me believing
like the sound of my mother breathing
life doesn't rhyme
it's tasting your rapist's breath
on the neck of a woman who loves you more
than anyone has loved you before
then feeling holy as jesus
beneath the hands of a one night stand
who's calling somebody else's name
it's you never feelin more greedy
than when you're handing out dollars to the needy
it's my not eating meat for the last seven years
then seeing the kindest eyes i've ever seen in my life
on the face of a man with a branding iron in his hand
and a beat down baby calf wailing at his feet
it's choking on your beliefs
it's your worst sin saving your fucking life
it's the devil's knife carving holes into you soul
so angels will have a place to make their way inside
life doesn't rhyme
still
life is poetry --- not math
all the world's a stage
but the stage is a meditation mat
you tilt your head back
you breathe
when your heart is broken you plant seeds in the cracks
and you pray for rain
and you teach your sons and daughters
there are sharks in the water
but the only way to survive
is to breathe deep
and dive
