Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Had a weird sort of lexicon
the man who professed
to be my dad –
Clamped in his chokehold
he’d demand words of devotion
Became inured to this dichotomy –
spent a lifetime searching for love –
Just the right balance of cruelty and kind.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
Mistake
Beg forgiveness
Repeat
Appearances sanitize past
Push dirt under the rug
Smother recall
Reason can be fraud
common sense out of order
Suspicions merit
an ear, listen
over din of betrayal.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge #135: quotation. “Always listen twice. First what’s being said, then who said it.” Image my own.)
Green eyes captivate,
he whispers, warm hand
resting on youthful thigh
Stomach somersaults
reviled by whiskey breath
yellowed fingers clutching
Not these eyes! I stand
tossing my drink in his face;
coming of age moment.
Legends make
and legends break
and some are clouds
for truth…
We stalk fame
Wear blinders
Deny greed
Worship lust
Somber propositions
streaked with blood
outsmart watchful eyes
Run to save the children
those vulnerable ones
wounds still tender
No matter how guarded
no matter how impenetrable the walls
expose the beast, fight the devil
Let truth define the legend.
(Written for all those women, men, and children exploited by the famous and powerful. Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: legend.)
Adept at uprooting,
conditioned to follow chaos –
know my place there.
Kindness unsettles –
each ray piercing
cracking the crust
unleashing a prism
both painful and joyous –
legacy of dysfunction.
(Poem from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
I paint smiles
to mask the stench
Greed’s perfume
triggering
an avalanche
shame
cannot hide
the fear, trembles
threatening to divulge
weakness.
(Image by yours truly.)
She prepared me for the worst
omission of positives purposeful –
Saving me from disappointment
her justification for inflicted wounds –
Years, I’ve railed against her abuse
pointless since she’s long been a ghost.
I trace the fibre
of each of your lies,
note the intricacy
of their overlapping –
marvel at the depths
of your scheming,
still suffering aftershock
of deception’s braid.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter poetry. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Treading water
where barracudas swarm,
inject a drop of kindness
incite a ravenous threat
Quick the decision to bail,
shed contamination,
resulting terror –
shame exposed.
Now tread slough
longing floored
robed in foreboding
trembling in shadows.
(I have made poor choices in my life, which still haunt my dreams. My therapist says to focus on the “quick departure”, honour myself for making the right decision in the moment. Still, guilt lives on. Such is the nature of trauma. It lingers in our psyche. Image from personal collection.)
(Warning: trigger)
It wasn’t for want of terror –
inexplicable horror
caused me to quake
There was no one to hear –
a remote lair, boarded
ensured the perfect crime
Even in the aftermath –
self erased, movement
adrenalin automaton
Even then, no sound,
voice stifled by guilt
certainty blame was mine
Art of dissociation
keeps me now, surface
calm – shame numbed
The scream a silent
reverberation
tearing at my soul.
(For Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: scream.)
