| read the poem and pass it along... |
[07 Feb 2005|05:40pm] |
My name is Misty,
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,
I must be stupid
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.
I can't speak at all
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
All the day long.
When I awake
I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home
When my mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe
I'll get just
One whipping tonight.
Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
my daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall
I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry
He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more,I
finally get free
And I run for the door.
He's already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!", I scream
But its now much too late
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate
The hurt and the pain
Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor
My name is Misty
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.
There are thousands of kids out there just like Misty. And you can help. Please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life. Hey, you NEVER know.
PLEASE send this if YOU are against CHILD ABUSE
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[06 Feb 2005|09:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 depressed |
] |
reverie
our bodies shuffle underneath blankets,
the sun spilling on the sheets warming our legs.
our eyes are blinking open gradually
welcoming in the new day.
your arms gather me up; i fold onto you.
and this is where our hearts lay,
hands meeting and palms pressing with fingers intertwining like stitches.
we match perfectly,
aligned with our eyes
and our lips do no talking,
but walking instead
from the creases of your neck, your arms
to the tips of your fingers where it lingers;
and i remember
what it is like again to love.
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[14 Mar 2004|12:17am] |
blissfully alone
we're all so blissfully young
beauty to jump the gun.
---------
no thoughts to express
no names and no faces
just bodies to undress.
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| it's so dry, from my mouth to my blood |
[11 Mar 2004|04:42pm] |
we could have an anthem,
and dance in the street.
on the hills and highways
and across the nation.
invite all of your friends,
and every one dance,
and we'll dance away our dreams
from the stars to the gutters.
the run off will infect the sewers,
and lower life forms will join us.
we'll all dance into the night
under the ill moon and sick stars
no one will see us, i promise.
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[11 Mar 2004|03:19pm] |
Believing in a fairy tale
and ringing every bell,
her truth sells short the
life she lives and
delegates a paintbrush and
and canvas:
She is to fill it with
tender experiences
and callused circumstance.
Time to start anew.
Welcome to the community, kids. Drench your minds in meaning and pour it into your entries.
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