A FINAL DETERMINATION OF UNFORESEEN GUILT

Truth a predicament for those who know my pain

Deceptive faux compassion hide my inner rage

Past good deeds and lost sentiment of a noble fool

Waste of space continues wading in the gene pool

Life here will never be the same

Each dispelled breath one step closer to the grave

Bouts of rage and solace fight for a sought after place

Admiration scrolled on imaginary walls in a lonely distant space

Pooling tears hide little of my self-condemning remorse

Once spilled, reality will reveal the magnitude of loss

The body shuts down, systems fail, the soul awakens and a new chapter begins

A story never told of truthful unspoken sins

When the last words cross her lips, it will mark my final rejection

The journey ends with a lucid moment of her undying affection

Regardless of betrayals and disappointments piled high

A mother’s love for her child will never truly die.

Those left behind are strapped with an impossible choice

Allow the forsaken redemption and grant her a voice

The only wish I have is to look in the other direction

Never look upon her face after the final breath; denying vindication

It is with little regret on that fateful final day

The bond of blood between sisters too will pass away

Deeply rooted in my heart a display of embittered cold

 

For alone, I hold the burden of a conscience; a feeling she will never know.

PG

April 23, 2013

A Clearing On A Dark Day

This poem took a lot of courage to put down on paper.  We all run across someone in our lives who in one way or another proves to be of poor moral fiber but some are the epitomy of "bad" and can often times lead us to dark places within ourselves or grant us a glimpse of evil. Hopefully, many readers will not relate to this story. I know some will which makes me very sad. So many women, unfortunately, face this type of and worse abuse on a regular basis. Shedding light on the psychological affect of physical abuse is hard to understand unless you have lived it. Thoughts and prayers to all of those victims out there who feel there is no hope. There is always light at the end of the tunnel when you find your own self worth and motivation. No one should live in fear.


Walking towards the edge of the clearing
Cannot see the laughter she is hearing
Beginning to run towards the melodious sounds
Heartbeat racing whilst her chest pounds

Almost there, running from a soul of blackness; dark
Her body numb, his blows leave plenty a mark
From the devil who's never bruised her "gorgeous face"
Beneath clothing skin purplish black, above her neck not a trace

He's running for the clearing too, pray he won't track her down
Maybe he'll be okay if she's no longer around
Trying to go faster, heading into the sun
She truly believed he could be the one

As the blows land, she closes her eyes
Heading towards the clearing and muffling her cries
Soon it will be over again, having exhausted himself
He'll toss her aside or place her gently back on the shelf

Once she can focus she will flee this room
If he awakens now, it will be her doom
Slowly she moves; the pain so intense
On her fragile body, his rage he vents

For in only two months 40 pounds slipped away
She endures this pain and degradation every day
His coercion her submission found in a powder line
If she is in the clouds, the pain does subside

She's found peace for now as blood flows down the drain
Images of happy laughing children float on her brain

Her limbs are aching, back is bleeding and on fire
As the children laugh, she starts to climb higher

Up towards the clouds, one step closer to release
Suddenly she's awakened from her daydreams
As again she's forced to her knees
The children now cry and she hears her own pleas

Auburn hair tangled and wet, body shivering and cold
Before his very eyes her beauty is growing old
Through the fog she sees the clearing there
Her mind is screaming "I can't let the children hear!"

He rips, he tears, he kicks and bites
She sprints for the clearing, she won't try to fight
Auburn locks flowing down her back like angry fire
Her soul now free, heart light and only one desire

Run faster, breathe steady, the clearing almost in sight
When the devil leaves today, she may actually reach the light
Line after line, blurred reality in her mind
No conscious thought as she sips her wine
  
White powder on a mirror and wine in a glass
Wondering how long these lines and Merlot can last...
He brought pain and introduced her to powdered love divine
When he gets home her body will be cold. Today he'll finish the wine.

She Devil

This one is also from my nightmares, however the roles were reversed this time.  Normally, I'm the victim or at least the weak one.  I am usually scared, cowering and petrified.  It is unsettling to see your own face on a beautiful savage beast in a dream.  The faces of my victims were not clear in this dream, but I woke up feeling guilty for some reason and very cold.  I wish someone could take my words and draw them into the light with a painted rendition of these images full of beasts.  I think maybe if I saw them on canvas, I'd be able to rid myself of them.


Shall we play a game of chance
Show me who you are; will you dance
Does her sparkling laughter
Make you wonder what comes after

Does her steady gaze show intensity
An instinctive propensity
Gauging your need while looking for your weakness
Mistakenly revealed when she fools you with her meakness

Hang on every word passing over luscious lips
The warmth in her eyes is merely an eclipse
The She Devil waits with snarling frustration
Until revealed her wrath; oh the anticipation

To begin, she will shred one layer as you pray
With red glowing eyes, she imagines tearing your flesh away
One layer then two, until your veins rip wide
Her blood lust kicks in, from her you can't hide

It was your obvious vulnerability
Her opening; a possibility
Turning the tide and leaving a vicious scar
Her fangs will sink deep into your bloody beating heart

Now comes her dark passionate ritual
She'll tear at your throat lovingly til all of your blood spills
Setting the mood, this She Devil in the dark
Her lust and violent desires are sure to leave a mark

Under the spell of a lustful wicked bitch
Beware now, you have triggered her Kill switch
Your warmth and compassion make her livid and cold
Burnt glowing ashes of your heart she will hold

Sparkling laughter again, or did you imagine it
Craved her beneath you, so now you can't forget
Evoking emotions for her means you must die
Pick up what's left, go home and just cry

She's now exhausted, her loins no longer ache
She'll spit out your remains while your heart breaks
Beautiful glowing eyes are truly black and cold
The She Devil mocks you, she does not have a soul

Limp away, go hide and  lick your wounds
She'll growl her satisfaction and worship the moon
Tugging at her body for justification is never allowed
Didn't you realize she was only on the prowl

You may beg and plead to see her again
But she's gone forever, get over it my friend
No memories shared or meaningful words spoken
You were a novelty, a useless token

She faded back into the darkest of night
Beware she sees you again, stay to the light
If your paths do cross; you may wonder what that means
But as she stalks new prey, try to remember your own screams.

So stay to the shadows, far from her darkness
Her blood lust is not something she can harness
If she chose another, you would still be whole
But you met the She Devil who craved only your soul.

PG  2008

Demons Are Real

Some poems are sparked by nightmares and must be brought into the light to make them go away. Guilt plays a huge part in our subconscious; some is valid and some is unfounded for the most part.      My dreamland has always been filled with Monsters and Demons.  As I have gracefully aged, I've come to realize these are representative of the stresses in life, the decisions I've made, the outcomes which paid homage to poor choices and the hidden vices we all crave.  Fear is a huge motivator for being a good person.  The question is whether or not nightmares are a figment of our imagination or the truth keeping us on a moral track.  


It came to me in a dream
I cannot speak his name
So real did he seem
Was it of love or shame?

Beyond the pain is silence and calm
After light fades all hope is gone
Waiting for it to commence; calm before the storm
Tidal waves or the apocalypse - now it won't be long

'Tis not my doing if life were to cease
Is it still a Sin if I wished for its birth?
Natural disasters, no part in the least
I hear a rumbling chuckle; I feel his mirth

If it so happened; I wished for demise
Prepared for my entrance, a celebration awaits
I cannot control it; this life I despise
Received my invitation to pass through his gates

Descending slowly, lucid thoughts drifting away
He beckoned to me,calling for my release
Still breathing, still seeing and fighting for this thing to go away
Lurking in my dreams; this beautifully demonic hateful beast

Drawn to his eminent power but choking on fear
I am just a tool in his main event
Longing for my destiny to finally come clear
I heed this message so brutally sent

The lights are now out, blindly heading down his path
Chest tightens, flames swirl and his darkness becomes light
Ears begin to pound, my head reels for I sense his wrath
Through my tears I see the Beast beckoning in the night

Laughing and taunting he speaks of my fate
"I'm your one true love; hear my call"
"I have consumed you with undeniable hate"
Grasping me tightly into his arms I fall

His touch stings leaving me weary
His form in the darkness erotic fluid grace
I reach out in slumber but cannot see him clearly
What I fear most is the look on his face

For if he's chosen me, I must have called to him
His arms now embrace me and will break me in two
Must have opened something dark to let him in
He crushes every bone so my soul can seep through

Is this what he needs?  The reason he comes?
His appearances more frequent though trying hard to sleep
The closer he gets the harder my heart drums
Into my solace terror does creep

Must try to stay awake but it's hard when I'm alone
I shall weaken one day and down he will swoop
My thoughts are now tattered as he laughs on his throne
On a flight with black charred wings my body he'll recoup

Guided to his world below
Its a dream spawned by my fears
Hanging on for dear life, destiny I will finally know
But then I awake covered in fallen tears

Darkness envelopes my body and mind
I'm waiting for the Devil's proof of sin
At first his face is solemn and kind
Then into Hell we shall descend

Is this a demon or just an evil man?
Does he enjoy my terror and pain?
Is this just a trick or the ultimate plan?
Is he finally going to drive me insane?

Will I ever be able to awaken from this?
If only I could see clearly his face
I want to know slumber's restful bliss
And leave this nightmare forever; remaining - not a trace.

THE GOBLET

It is so nice to go on a date with the man of my dreams but the best part of the date is going home...

Returning home from a sterile show

My passion for you beginning to grow

Enough formality for one night
Alone at last; no one else in sight

My body awakens to your touch
Off with the dress; confining too much
Stroke me slowly, baby make me hot
Rub my back; loosen the knot

Lie me naked on the floor
You reach for the Goblet filled once more
Dip your fingers into the succulent lotion
Kneading, caressing; intoxicating motion

The liquid warms as it touches my skin
You straddle my waist and we begin
Warm wet fingers tracing a line
Back to the Goblet; more lotion DIVINE!

 

Touching my body, moving lower still

Intensity growing Oh My what a thrill
Massaging my legs; drawing out the tension
Heading towards your goal; perfection

As my legs part; I feel your breath at my back
Arching my body; can hardly hold back
I try to roll over getting closer still
You push me back down, for your touch I could KILL

"NO NO NO; Uh UH Not Yet"
"You're not moving until your soaking wet"
I'm panting for his tongue which now replaced his hands
Down my spine, across one hip; man I love his plans

His rough rugged grasp moves to my waist
Turning me over; now we are face to face
Tilting the Goblet over my breasts
Pouring out more lotion; now there's nothing left

Grinding my body slowly; now teasing him
Breathless he says "You may begin"
The Goblet is empty; I need to be filled
We bathed in the lotion; not a drop was spilled

As he slips inside; I'm ready to peak
It feels so good; unable to speak
I ride him hard; rocking and squeezing so tight
This is what I wanted all fucking night

Fingers entwined, eyes locked as we advance
Our bodies collide in the orgasmic dance


PG   2010

FOCUS

The following notation explains my reasons for writing poetry in the first place.  When I am feeling anxious, angry, aggravated, woeful, sexy, harmonious or plain livid, the words seem to flow...fortunately for me I can put them into a rhythmic motion bringing impassioned thoughts to life. 

When life is out of focus
And you've lost your path or course
Sit back, relax;  lock yourself away
Go inside to the place where you always know what to say

Pick up a pen and gouge at the page
It's here a war on emotion is waged
Here begins a circle of wasted cognizant time
Cluster of words in your head before being displayed in rhyme

Tangled and confused as they grace each awaiting page
Where their meaning becomes you're very own center stage
Therapeutic for me, could help you find where you belong
Your own craft, creation, revelation or song



Simply joyous or wrought with true misery
They're mine alone, cannot be take from me
Go inside and find the words you possess
Be brave, jot it down; with that pen point press

Be not afraid of what you find
Thoughts can be pure, evil, sweet or merely unkind
They must not be significant indeed
It will make you feel better and fill an emotional need.

So go ahead and lock yourself away
Jot down what it is you've been dying to say.


October 2002
PG

Wicked Wench: CONTROL

Wicked Wench: CONTROL:  This poem is about the misconception some people have about S&M relationships.  On the surface the submissive is, of course, not the aggressor and does what she or he is told.  But on a much deeper psychological level, the submissive is in a much stronger position than the master.  To wield a whip takes physical strength but to receive those blows takes a hell of a lot of courage... So who really is the master and who is truly the slave???