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Okay years and years ago I was so in tune with everything and everyone around me kind of hypersensitivity, that I could take one word and write a whole poem about it. It just flowed, made sense, and often times had a hidden meaning. I think all of us ptsders were like that at some point. So here is the experiment someone pick any word and let us give it a try. Anyone up for it? I understand if you do not want to share for various reasons, but why not try writing in you journal and make it private, or even erasing it after you are done.
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I feel so dirty and used I was drunk and passed out at a party when I came around some guy was on top of me rapeing me he covered my mouth and told me to shut up afterwards he got up and got dressed and said I better not tell anyone I found my friend and reported that I had been raped after having medical checks and them getting DNA I've taken the morning after pill IAM just so depressed and...
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Upon his departure, he remarked, "I am in many people’s pockets; no one will believe you." Have you ever grappled with the silence that follows sexual assault, where the perceived impossibility of being believed necessitates self-censorship?
The Fullness of Time
By James Stephens (b. 1882)
ON a rusty iron throne
Past the furthest star of space
I saw Satan sit alone,
Old and haggard was his face;
For his work was done and he
Rested in eternity.
And to him from out the sun
Came his father and his friend
Saying, now the work is done
Enmity is at an end:
And he guided Satan to
Paradises that he knew.
Gabriel without a frown,
Uriel without a spear,
Raphael came singing down
Welcoming their ancient peer,
And they seated him beside
One who had been crucified.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote music for this poem back in 1972 and will never forget the words.
Enmity is a great word...
Enmity, Schmenmity and I
a calamity we did spy
Enmity winced
and fear evinced
but Schmenmity and I
we walked on by,
and aint seen Enmity since
In this New Flesh Army;
The skin beneath the hair
Un-living. Easy
In shades and breath
Beware!
We Generals
This New Flesh Army;
Salesmen in enmity
No chance a straight canine Heaven - Dig?
Un-learn....
Armies kill.
this is an anti-misogyny, anti-pornography poem.
Soiree
Soft whispers insisting, urgent, disgruntled.
Each voice wanting to get her own way.
Each voice wanting to be heard.
The youngest has a small voice that tugs on the edge of my mind.
She wants to snuggle and cuddle and fall asleep wrapped in the blanket of my pia mater.
The middle child is actually two, sharing different sides of the same room.
Line drawn down the middle
Dancing in the center
There is a soiree in my head.
The chaperon is being a bitch.
I am flying to Switzerland.
thanks for sharing.
bleeds onto this page
eye to eye
in a mirror
nothing to hear
only see
all the enmity that courses through me
spotted red over white
more darkness than light
hoping, praying, imagining
a day when all the scabs fall off
into the dust
and I walk from the darkness to the light
and in this mirror
no more pain no more fear
no more enmity
is there left to
see. Sean
Yes!
(That's my word, by the way).