“Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34, KJV)
Tag: Blogging
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Tortured spirits bellow. The wretched place gives up its cries. Contorted faces stare intently through the soul with wide eyes. Zombie like figures through muffled cries, point with apprehension to where the toxic billows rise. The blue skies turn grey; the smoke overtakes the sunlight and all is covered in darkness. A red ribbon is caught up in the foul wind and swallowed by it. My lamp is heavy and my kerosene is low. Shadowy figures move in and out of the smoke filled darkness to and fro. The unbearable sounds of anguish go up into the clouds and are infused with the toxic smoke. The stench of it reeks; the sounds of sadness and unfulfilled dreams cause me to weep. The darkness inhales the smoke and is euphoric in its exhale. It is intoxicated with the sounds of suffering. The earth is heavy with the saturated tears of the oppressed. The oceans roar in anger and the earth’s core erupts. Measured steps are taken, lest I fall into perpetuity. Crows fly overhead en masse. The realm is turned into black pitch. The treacherous bridge swings and sways as I attempt to walk over the abyss. Save my dimly lit lamp, I am blind in the darkness. Crippling apprehension fills the void. I am consumed in desolation. I recite the works of Dickinson and Poe. With heaviness of heart, I will write works of my own torment and sorrow. I will walk in the dark and horrid place and blend in with the shadows, in hopes that hopelessness won’t know.
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At 2 A.M. she does her dance,
Her eyes of sorrow hidden by euphoric trance.
She does her best to entertain the crowd;
Wide eyes they glare, and the shouts are loud;
Her fluid movements cause money to rain,
For the dirty bills are her source of gain.
It’s behind the eyes, oh those weary eyes,
Where her soul seeks warmth, and her spirit cries.
Her passion is singing; her passion is life;
Still she walks in heels on a winter’s night,
To make a living the only way she has known,
For the long dark road has become her home.
She is mentally afflicted, because she is a victim
Of abuse in her childhood, when pain was inflicted.
Her tears are the tears of an angel …
She longs for understanding; she longs for light;
For a heavenly shelter from the cold of night.
As she strips her clothes, pain strips her soul;
Only the familiar eyes of her sorrow would know.
She is an angel. A beautiful woman.
At 2 A.M. she is still a woman. -
Misery has found me and the dark place relentlessly calls for me. I can hear the weeping of the sorrowful; the unceasing bellowing of the tormented is unbearable, and renders me despondent. The woman in the black veil stares at me and sees my distress. With a haunting wail she disappears into the darkness; the train of her black dress follows behind her. My soul burns with anguish within me. I have called to the heavens with tears but have heard no answer; my only comfort is the memory of my mother. The desolation wears on me, and the abyss pulls me closer to the ground. I have stood strong for many seasons, but the years have quietly stolen my youthful strength. The putrid smoke of the abyss is offensive and it scorches my eyes. I stumble around in darkness wanting to cry out but I will not give the dark place any more of my tears. Within me, hope wanes and despair has taken up residence. Only the fire of anger keeps my feet steady on the long and dark road. Sorrow increases day by day, and the poisonous fruit of trepidation is eaten by many. Is there any rest for the weary? So many tired and ghostly faces pass by me as I look into their eyes intently. Suffering has been our portion, and unrelenting pain our heavy cross to bear. Who will witness our plight and record the days of our lives? Maybe the heavens will open, and finally hear the agony in my cries.
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See me;
See me for who I am.
In my passion, see my desire;
In my weeping, see my pain:
In my warmth, see my love;
In my agony, see my affliction. -
The darkness drains me and leaves me listless. I stumble around in dizziness and shortness of breath. My dark feathered friend the crow, tilts her head, and looks at me through keen eyes with a certain peculiarity. I wonder if she can sense my pain or see my despair. I was in love once, but my beloved abandoned me once I arrived here. I was asleep and was awakened with fright; I reached for her but she wasn’t there. She left a sordid note stating:
My love,
I love you, but I can no longer stay here. I care for you, but I can’t deal with the darkness and fear. I’ve tried to understand you, but it’s all just too much for me to bear. Here’s your ring back, and you can cancel the wedding arrangements we made for next year.
Sincerely,
AlynaI could feel the darkness taunting me and laughing at my sorrow and tears. The darkness wants to take from me, leave me with nothing and strip me bare. She would leave me when I needed her most, in the middle of the night, under the pretense of care.
It was that night, that the darkness embraced me tightly, and whispered foully in my ear: They will all leave you, but I will always be here.
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I battle against the waves of despair
My head barely above water
It seeks to drown me
It seeks to take me under
My anxiety builds; it taunts me
It threatens to tear me asunder
I am afraid,
Will I remain or will I falter?
I will let out tears,
And leave my burdens at God’s alter;
I will try to patiently wait for my rescue
As I wade in the lonely, deep, and dark waters. -
The cold desolation of the void encompasses me. The utter blackness of it depresses me and wounds my spirit. I will not let it feed on my distress. With tears flowing from eyes of anger, and with bare feet, I will dance. I will cry out from the abyss. Wildly and in uninhibited rage, I will dance in silent darkness.
Intimate Compositions 