Where Servitude Ends

Born to be domesticated
in a white, controlled desert
tending to two-leggeds –

blamed for delinquencies
I fed but did not groom –
privacy overrun by wannabes

everyone has their own scheme –
I am finished, threaten to disclose
neglect – no limitation to disgust

What fate is this? Abandoned
only to perish – Have I not been
loyal?  Accepting of my role?

Tending to young, in charge of
personal care – translation:
laundry – only comfort solitude.

Past – as industrious as a line
of ants – no longer viable, I am
nothing, dependents gone;

bodily restrictions now claim me
forgotten dreams dissolved – I am
dependent, unwilling legs confine

care unpredictable – ward of the
state – semblance of nutrition
provided, encouraged to sanitize

my body, my attitude; no rest
this home is overpopulated –
vocal laments torment old ears

Pestered by small things, would
leave, stop being a burden, am
decidedly stuck, until life fades.

(Image: favim.com)

Balance

Contemplating new life –
he, gainfully employed,
promotes change eagerly –

years of isolation render me
dubious, aspirations limited
to a cup of tea, fear dining out

his palate embraced by any menu,
mine a complex set of restrictions,
condemned to serial disappointment

undaunted by my disabilities, he
ventures forth, seeks solutions
with godlike inspiration commands

possibility, accounts for idiosyncracies
pursues alternative options, is a master
of ensuring that dreams do come true.

Parents Beware!

Warily watching innocents
parading on the edge of darkness,
portraits of miniature monsters
haunting deserted streets.

Howls from a local asylum
like sirens scream of wizards,
devious deviners hovering
over fresh young blood

Heart beating irrationally,
I pause to calm my breathing,
turn to find my charge gone,
disappeared in the haze.

I retrace my steps – no!
She’s evaporated, snatched –
vomit rises in my throat,
while goblins stalk shadows

frantically I hunt, search
stashes, grasping for clues,
the night closes in, I shiver
at the echoing laughter.

Curiosity caught her –
twilight’s call, visions
enticing –  unaware of her
vulnerability, eager eyed

as any student of fright –
hissing cackles circle
the unsuspecting morsel
of flesh, drooling fangs

connive – bumping into
evil, she tried to run, was
swallowed up, lost, stench
of morbidity closing in –

found her crumpled like
a broken bird – princess
dreams dishevelled, streaks
of tears on muddied face,

tended to her in the shadowy
hours dissuading her fears,
All imaginary, I persuaded,
just costumes like yours –

yet even I felt the lingering
snarl of beasts, the undeniable
chill in the air; I snuggled her
tight, and said an extra prayer

as Night wrapped her in his
ebony cloak and feverish and
afraid she was whisked away
to another mortifying realm.

(Image: hdwallpapers.cat)

 

 

Chasms

Old friend, I would visit you
but this compulsive state of
martyrdom delays our reunion,
then you slip my mind.

You wouldn’t recognize me –
this mask I wear, a product
of the toxicity that I play host to,
puts a lid on my kind-heartedness

I want to be helpful,
but carry a burden of failures
ghosts from childhood home
that plug my memory.

I have hurt so many,
neglected, now lost, family –
these useless ties are shadows
lurking, directing me –

I am sensitive, wanting
to exile the negativity, have been
taught to be considerate
but can’t erase the inconsistencies

Spend too much time
browsing, delivering a fragment
of the torment that lies within
am over involved with self

Really want to be my best
in search of something greater
but today the frustration
is too raw, am at a loss

Old friend, I have reverted back
to dependence, manipulating,
am mentally unstable,
cannot find closure

in all the scattered pieces
all I have to offer are bits
disappointing, really, stored
memories that menace

Believe me when I say
I am working hard, want to start
fresh, have a goal in mind,
have not forgotten you.

but am running out of
options, frustrated, can’t catch
a break, as the distance
between us widens.

(Image from: blobsnbubbles.wordpress.com)

Qualifier

Hurdles line up
before me, am I
at the starting gate?

Who will hire me?
Will I be able to learn?
Can I leave the house?

Each bar set higher,
formidable tasks
to achieve, doubting..

state of dependence,
chronic ailments,
undercut propulsion..

have cleared course
of busy, overworking
professional attire..

have the motivation
to rejoin the race,
but legs lack spring;

picture myself tripping,
tossed, sunny side up,
too outdated to win.

(Image: www.postonline.co.uk)

 

Seeking Home

My father’s kingdom his castle;
I inherited his strife, witnessed
years of control and submission
felt used, undervalued, robbed;

Was overinvolved responsibly,
misunderstood the nature of his
anguish, drew attention to myself
interpreting his pain as personal.

Our Father’s mansion (no place
for inanimate objects) nurtures
wisdom, recalls neglect, reflects
on life choices, lack of wholeness.

I am called Home, lifted from
introspection regurgitating
old stories, see the youthful
exaggeration, adult immaturity

have a lot to learn – like a child
throwing a tantrum – emotional,
disappointed, destructive – hurt,
lacking constructive perspective;

need to dwell in a house without
walls, free from guilt of neglected
obligations, wounding relieved
by the light of a greater purpose.

(Image: www.themainewire.com)

Turn Off That Screen!

It’s a crapshoot –
self-aggrandized,
charity-loving,
ostentatious celebrities
polluting developing minds
masking panic;

collective agreements
re-violating, prodding
drive elaborate schemes
to improve our living status
personas discomforting
to future generations;

what entertainment –
bait and switch tactics
proclaiming worthy causes
grand venues depicting happy
disguising uncertainty
loss of societal innocence
overshadowed.

(Image: media-values.blogspot.com)

 

Goldfish Reflections

I’m a freshwater gal,
prefer murky, stagnant
pools to the onrush
of rapids, currents

annoy me, challenge
my delicate body,
content to feed off
lanky foliage, swim

in dim-lit passages;
fear it was the flash
of gold, or glimpse
of a mermaid tail

that first attracted
man, compelled him
to trap then breed me
artificially – in glass

houses, distorted
worlds colliding with
my sensitivity, absent
safe havens for retreat.

Worldly now, tossed
into constructs called
ponds – added rocks,
footbridges or lily pads

do not deceive me –
cellular memory is
not to be quieted, I
dream of night skies,

and morning dew, and
sun baking the water’s
surface, of diversity,
schools and families

cannot tolerate this
one-flush destiny,
need space to be –
not an illusion of

recognize my captivity
for what it is – concrete
walls cannot define me;
the wild, the free burns

deep – thousand years
of containment has not
defiled my DNA, and I
will remember long after

that final plunge, in
reincarnation may not
be so forgiving – no
longer a timid fish.

(image: http://animals.mom.me/goldfish-live-4748.html)

 

 

Blogging Confidential

Find comfort amongst bloggers,
witness the birth of writers,
misplace my own purpose, fallen

gather ideas, maintain my shame;
I am a fictional character, having
miscarried my own story, declined

into dirt – dangerous; energy limited,
no stores to drive me, never really
known a home where peace dwells,

where brilliance is nurtured, worn
down with beatings, ascribed to
independence too young, immature

chose boisterousness over gentleness,
became a second/third-hand wife,
parent, place last behind responsibility.

beat myself up now over my stupidity,
lack of credibility, an obligatory failure –
any wisdom preserved redundant.

Stop already!  This is but a one-sided
tale coloured by shame – change the
lens, multiple stories await birthing

find comfort amongst bloggers,
witness the growth of writers,
recognize the shared experience.

Ancestral Rot

British roots define
particular brand of
peculiarity – shared
claustrophobia –

fear of closeness;
need to lie down,
separate myself,
am married now

childless dreams
dust; I am cook,
cleaner – project
sparkle where dirt

still lingers, losing
rationality, not quite
catching on; want
to send flowers,

honour passings
but soul wounds,
unbandaged, gape –
hunger to be free.

(Image: www.apa.org)