Tag: abuse

Ark

Best Served With: You’re All Alone by John Swihart

link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KU8HiNPiGZc

Image result for domestic abuse reverence

I’m your punching bag,

Nobody can know this arrangement,

Black eyes shun the sadness,

My feelings just bow to your tempo,

 

–So your dad abused your mum,

Poor Ada put trousers on,

Never fear for I’m your sponge,

I’ll soak up the pieces–

 

Baby,

you’re just like Thunder–

Tore me to pieces–

Ripped me asunder.

 

I’m

Seeking a solace–

Someone to hold me–

Put me away.

 

This god,

Slaps then cries with words,

I choose to hurt cause I

Could never choose to hug,

 

You’re ugly, worthless, lovely, beautiful,

I’ll love you now then

Torture tomorrow,

 

Why does it feel like

My God has forsaken me?

Why do I feel so alone?

 

I don’t embarrass,

I love and I care,

But it seems I,

Will never be enough.

 

You ask I supplement,

Babe,

You cry I wipe your tears,

I’m not Thunder,

But anger I just can’t justify,

You still oppress me,

I never cheated or,

Rip Me asunder,

Treated you subpar,

God is your solace,

Not lying but,

Home lays with me,

I know you’ll deny,

Stop. Can’t keep holding my wrath.

 

You ask, I supplement,

You cry, I wipe your tears,

But anger I just can’t justify,

I never cheated or,

Treated you subpar,

Not lying but

I know you’ll deny.

White

Best Served With: Fragile by Eryn Allen Kane

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tn00YGkNHr8

Image result for glass half empty and white

 

White is such an impressionable color,

Purity’s playground yields no lover,

Graceful swing sets dance and suffer,

Redemption breathes a putrid odor,

 

White is such an impressionable color,

White lines can call you to hover,

White straps will tell you to shiver,

White is often clear as the prod in your prognosis,

 

White is such an impressionable color,

White leaves a smell but has no odor,

And when a try births a way of life

White whispers; “sell your back for me,

sell your lips to get a taste of me

And as I flee sell your waist for me”

Until it pushes out a life

Siren that heralds your strife

Discarded destinies; bits of a bride.

 

White is such an impressionable color,

Quick to stain and hard to wash,

O, if Hades had another life,

Perhaps Cerberus would be a German shepherd,

His hand the bedrock of joy not poison,

And the underworld naught but exotic,

But Fate remains an obedient soldier,

Following the rivers of life and time,

 

As a child, his first toy was a bullet,

That doubled as his father,

He used it to toy with lives at the butt of the barrel,

But it protected his from thugs and scoundrels,

He fell in love with Robert Frost,

And read his work to maggot-infested sand structures,

With a bullet resting in their brains,

 

He never left his streets though,

And the bloodier the battlefield,

The bigger he basked in it,

Remember, white can be stained or spiced.

 

White is such an impressionable color,

That morphs to blue when I go to school,

Painted silence I stifle from chuckles and good intentions,

Whose eyes gloss over the black in my nappy hair,

The depression seated in my eyes,

The messengers of violence tapered on my skin–

Their stamps praising their destination—

Those eyes, those cold eyes,

Tell tall tales tackling the tenacity of tempting trivia,

Because gods don’t lose sleep over the plight of peasants.

 

White is such an impressionable color,

And I choose to shape that white

Which is why this little black boy,

This failed black boy,

This typical black boy,

Is a duty of mine

Thus, I will ask paper questions,

And show glass concerns of his body,

 

He has no white left,

Corrupted at his best,

Disgusting as incest,

Dare I test?

Dare I tell him lies about himself,

Dare I tell him true happiness sips the surface of my skin?

Dare convince him to work hard till he hits the glass ceiling?

And when he irritates me,

Dare I tell the truth?

 

That he infects his world with his oyster,

That his inferior skin places a monkey between humans,

That his scars are so deep that his white has frayed?

Remember, white can be stained or spiced.

 

White is such an impressionable color,

Da Vinci can draw on a canvas but so can Loki,

And Loki, in his twisted mind,

Drew the story of a black girl,

Grey eyes, natural hair, tough but slender,

High School, Harvard, big time moneymaker

Whose abusive father’s voice faded the more she achieved,

But cannot hold a man down,

Because deep down she still feels like a lucky slave,

Who happened to find good leftovers from the master’s table

 

See every time her father hit her,

He did so with both hands,

Upper and lower,

And every time Daddy apologized,

He stroked with both hands too.

Daddy is in jail now,

And she owns many men,

Many, many, many men.

So, Loki’s story ends up seeming like Da Vinci’s,

But remember, white can be stained or spiced,

And the painting is never truly free of its canvas.

 

 

Should I be free to want more,

Should I be free for freedom’s sake?

White is such an impressionable color,

But white,

In its truest form,

Is free.

 

Elano’s Notes

When I think about the glass half empty or full dilemma I realize it is all about perception. Every situation can have two contrasting perspectives; one good and one bad. We all enter this world as blank slates. Our environment, experiences and ecosystems write on us and the writing can be artistic or destructive depending on who is reading. Sometimes, I am stunned at how easy it is for people (myself included) to judge and conclude on others based on something as basic as how they look. We often forget that people are complex creatures who are often multi-layered and who have desires and worries just like we do. So I cannot help but think of writing–any writing– as a shackle to who you are because it allows others to judge and assume, sometimes before you even get the chance to say your name. That is why white is so impressive to me. I am amazed that such a boring color is so historically rich, textured and dynamic. White can be everything and nothing at the same time. It is a blank slate but it will always be a clear part of its end-product.

I am not a part of my end-product. Are you?

Let me know what you think in the comments.