ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

Disturbing Poetry

Updated on August 29, 2016
These teardrops fall inky from my pen and click from my fingertips.
These teardrops fall inky from my pen and click from my fingertips. | Source

Don't Get Comfortable

Life is not all clean and bright. Some parts of it are dark and painful in deep and cutting ways. Usually, people do their best to hide those ugly wounds from the world. For many, it's simply unacceptable to let those soul-shaping parts of us see the light of day.

Here are some of mine.

I've poured out a small helping of anguish and anger for you to read. If you are reading on after this introduction, I assume you are here to feel something. If so, read ahead. As I have warned, no punches will be pulled.


WARNING

Some material on this page may be triggering or otherwise emotionally disturbing to rape or molestation survivors.

Glacier phoenix waiting to be reborn
Glacier phoenix waiting to be reborn | Source
Rob Burke [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Rob Burke [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Phoenix of the Glacier

Dropped by a glacier,

a terminal moraine

begins where cold ended

where vast crests of ice

came to die

and dropped their stony load,

now covered with soil

a rocky cairn for times long gone.

A battered farmhouse sits on that hill

paint peels and broken windows gape,

its decomposing carcass

where my childhood came to die.

A skeleton stripped of meaning,

a splintering wooden fossil

buried by time so shallow yet so viscous

it is now innocent in its post-senescence.

I am not.

I am a dirty phoenix,

the frost of the glaciers reborn.

The iceberg's gravel armors me

as tender skin could not

proof against the feverish, sweaty hands

of a ghost whose corpse has yet to die,

proof against his stifling weight

atop my childish form

which is nothing

compared to lying beneath ice

that endured for fifty thousand years or more.

If I could live a thousand lifetimes

perhaps the ice I have become might melt,

leaving behind only the strength of stones.

By Wilfredo R Rodriguez H (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons
By Wilfredo R Rodriguez H (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

Inescapable

When I close my eyes I see you.

Does this mean some emotion between us?

You come to me in dreams -

your sick desire obvious.

The scar upon my breast

burns where you suckled.

I don't bother to run anymore

because you're inside me.

I smell your breath in my face

in the hot wind of August.

I can't deny the feelings I have for you

or that I think of you every day.

You climb into my bed,

unseen by all but me.

Shall I let the feelings cover me

as your body once did?

The smell of light rain on hot, dry asphalt

calls up your teeth on my breast.

Every time I hold a knife

I think of you inside me.

Every time I hear the word whore

I remember your touch.

Photo by Jon Sullivan, courtesy PDPhoto.org
Photo by Jon Sullivan, courtesy PDPhoto.org

A Killing Rage

a revenge fantasy

Who knew the dead

could travel through time?

My loins feel the thrust of him

where his blade marked the way.

A cold steel caress

across my breast,

an indelible print

from his hand.

I ache to feel him

under my hands

helpless, choking,

thrashing.

In dreams, my face feels the blood of him

as stinging heat

burning in my eyes

like long awaited tears.

By Vassil (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
By Vassil (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

His Time Machine

Sometimes I forget

that I'm not fine.

Then living reminds me

otherwise -

the stink of Vaseline,

the feel of sticky vinyl seats

and suddenly...I'm six years old

choking on snot and vomit

and in his power.

It's been thirty odd years

but he invented time travel

with grabbing,

sweaty hands

and my torn lace tights

crumpled dirty on the floor.

The wrong thought

and I am back

in his time machine,

small and helpless

once again.

Photo by Jon Sullivan, courtesy PDPhoto.org
Photo by Jon Sullivan, courtesy PDPhoto.org

Flashback

when bad memories get together and play with my head

The nail buckled away from my thumb

in a steady burning rush of blood.

I choked on the snot of my tears

as I screamed into the wadded up sock

taped into my mouth...

The blood from my mouth hit the sidewalk,

landing like a red butterfly on the concrete

as he pulled back his fist to punch me again...

She pushed me under the water again,

her nails gouging into my scalp and cheek

as she forced my head down...

The cross swayed above my face

as flesh slapped together with sweat and blood.

The pain shot through my belly,

and arced to my broken ribs...

The knife slid across my breast,

carving a flaming line

like a mouth drooling blood

and his teeth bit into my flesh...

...And then the closet went dark as she closed the door...

By Ainhoa91 (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
By Ainhoa91 (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Spiraling

a commentary on notebooks burnt in anger

Bits of ash tantalize,

suggest words one can almost see.

Sooty metal spirals twist into my abdomen

catching on sensitive vital organs of the soul.

Once they were glistening binders

of the written word, the drawn line

but now they are weapons -

tools, plowshares beaten,

burnt into swords,

curving blades that stick and fester

in tender flesh.

By Villy Fink Isaksen at da.wikipedia (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
By Villy Fink Isaksen at da.wikipedia (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

War in the Name of God

Gunfire pierces through the night

and screams arise throughout the fight.

A child hides under a broken bed

dying voices in his head

whistling bombs light the sky

and he wonders if he'll die.

Forgive us, lord, for what we've done

In your name and your fair sons'-

Call it war, call it jihad

it's all in the name of God.

When we die it's hard to tell

which heaven, which hell.

It's all the same, some mother's son,

some bearded child - life just begun

bleeding on the ground.

The earth is thirsty everywhere it seems

in the desert, swamp, and all extremes.

Forgive us, lord, for what we've done

In your name and your fair sons'-

Call it war, call it jihad

it's all in the name of God.

Death - the new pornography

of all the senseless wars

to the cameraman corpses are but whores

whose price is never paid

but in the heartbroke mourning

payment's taken without warning.

Forgive us, lord, for what we've done

In your name and your fair sons'-

Call it war, call it jihad

it's all in the name of God.

Full color, tears in any language

look the same to any mother.

To her, God is the voice of a child

still living at the break of day

under a bed, streaks on a dirty face.


© 2009 Kylyssa Shay

working

This website uses cookies

As a user in the EEA, your approval is needed on a few things. To provide a better website experience, hubpages.com uses cookies (and other similar technologies) and may collect, process, and share personal data. Please choose which areas of our service you consent to our doing so.

For more information on managing or withdrawing consents and how we handle data, visit our Privacy Policy at: https://corp.maven.io/privacy-policy

Show Details
Necessary
HubPages Device IDThis is used to identify particular browsers or devices when the access the service, and is used for security reasons.
LoginThis is necessary to sign in to the HubPages Service.
Google RecaptchaThis is used to prevent bots and spam. (Privacy Policy)
AkismetThis is used to detect comment spam. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide data on traffic to our website, all personally identifyable data is anonymized. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Traffic PixelThis is used to collect data on traffic to articles and other pages on our site. Unless you are signed in to a HubPages account, all personally identifiable information is anonymized.
Amazon Web ServicesThis is a cloud services platform that we used to host our service. (Privacy Policy)
CloudflareThis is a cloud CDN service that we use to efficiently deliver files required for our service to operate such as javascript, cascading style sheets, images, and videos. (Privacy Policy)
Google Hosted LibrariesJavascript software libraries such as jQuery are loaded at endpoints on the googleapis.com or gstatic.com domains, for performance and efficiency reasons. (Privacy Policy)
Features
Google Custom SearchThis is feature allows you to search the site. (Privacy Policy)
Google MapsSome articles have Google Maps embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
Google ChartsThis is used to display charts and graphs on articles and the author center. (Privacy Policy)
Google AdSense Host APIThis service allows you to sign up for or associate a Google AdSense account with HubPages, so that you can earn money from ads on your articles. No data is shared unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Google YouTubeSome articles have YouTube videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
VimeoSome articles have Vimeo videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
PaypalThis is used for a registered author who enrolls in the HubPages Earnings program and requests to be paid via PayPal. No data is shared with Paypal unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook LoginYou can use this to streamline signing up for, or signing in to your Hubpages account. No data is shared with Facebook unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
MavenThis supports the Maven widget and search functionality. (Privacy Policy)
Marketing
Google AdSenseThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Google DoubleClickGoogle provides ad serving technology and runs an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Index ExchangeThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
SovrnThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook AdsThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Unified Ad MarketplaceThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
AppNexusThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
OpenxThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Rubicon ProjectThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
TripleLiftThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Say MediaWe partner with Say Media to deliver ad campaigns on our sites. (Privacy Policy)
Remarketing PixelsWe may use remarketing pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to advertise the HubPages Service to people that have visited our sites.
Conversion Tracking PixelsWe may use conversion tracking pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to identify when an advertisement has successfully resulted in the desired action, such as signing up for the HubPages Service or publishing an article on the HubPages Service.
Statistics
Author Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide traffic data and reports to the authors of articles on the HubPages Service. (Privacy Policy)
ComscoreComScore is a media measurement and analytics company providing marketing data and analytics to enterprises, media and advertising agencies, and publishers. Non-consent will result in ComScore only processing obfuscated personal data. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Tracking PixelSome articles display amazon products as part of the Amazon Affiliate program, this pixel provides traffic statistics for those products (Privacy Policy)
ClickscoThis is a data management platform studying reader behavior (Privacy Policy)