Tag Archive | freedom

Preacher, Non-believer

Untitled

But misery loves company
Like the devil loves doing evil deeds
Blasphemy, Blasphemy, Blasphemy
The poor man screams
He lost all his faith in his belief
A perfect world to him, is but a dream
He was once a preacher, a holy man
But he couldn’t go on and pretend the world wasn’t damned
So he took a box of matches and set his church on fire
And stayed until the raging flames that destroyed, had tired
He stood there with no one around
And laughed to himself while it burned to the ground
The only witness, he was, to his faith’s demise
Adorned is soot and ashes, he kissed it goodbye
Levitated by the devastation
He, holy man, emancipated
He ate from the devil’s hand who fed him temptation
Unable to escape the red man’s penetration
He, holy man, whose heart swelled with fire
Confess to him, no more, for he is a liar
A holy man afraid of water
Too dirty to cleanse, God disowned him as his Father
So now he roams the streets alone, without a soul
Because he sold it to the devil only a few days ago
For freedom, he thought in return he would get
Deceived by the devil who knew he’d lose the bet
The devil smiled grimly, for he knew he had won
Holy man, oh holy man, what have you done?
On a Sunday, you sold it, for barely anything
Because you thought in the end, you would feel complete
And now you’ve got nothing, how do you feel?
Freedom from God has lost its appeal
Sleep among the ashes of your church you burnt down
As the devil and his friends will dance and hover around
You cannot escape for you are a prisoner forever
The devil will remind you, he will make sure you remember

-m.T

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A State of Mind

A gallery of words displayed in her hand; what she will write hasn’t been planned.

A lot like her life.

Her pen moves on command, by a thought not molded by this world she sees, instead by a thought held as a secret by this girl and what she believes; a girl who does not live by the words she speaks but by the words she bleeds on a paper so white it loses its purity. The ink spreads intricately and imperfectly, where it’s allowed to be. The words she wrote are sacred, opposite of his temple of hatred. She is naked. She has come undone. One by one, one by one, words fill her world opposite of a reality she lives. She doesn’t give a shit. She imagines what isn’t real so that what is real can feel like something she imagined. She is damaged. An infliction of contradictions. She doesn’t give a shit. She takes a hit. Vulnerable and guarded, she is hardened. Exposed and closed, she takes a dose. Each word she releases into her veins travels from a needle filled with ink, numbing her and giving her the power to think. She feels freedom. She struggles with this demon. She calls it a poisonous blessing. Her pen does the undressing, of what is inside. Logic and emotion collide. Emotion wins and strikes her heart, she holds her words close so they can’t be ripped apart, like that day they tried to rescue her from her mind. They were denied. She couldn’t admit her thoughts to a world so blind. So her words are held safe and sound and bound, to a place, which can be closed and re-opened. Her words prove she can’t be broken, on pages, which have stayed intact and bound together; a life in words is a storm she can weather.

m.T

(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

Motion Sickness

Independence
Is a shiny pendent
He dangles before her
Swaying

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

She’s dependent
Although she craves the other
Instead she dangles before him
Reaching

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

He moves his hands
And grasps her
Flesh and bones
Shaking her

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

She wants freedom
Beloved freedom
Torn between him and liberty
Deciding

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

Hypnotized and terrified
She can’t break free
Asleep, she wanders
Indecency has swallowed her
Loyalty to him has become her
It’s all she’ll ever be
Until the day she runs
And screams
Hears her voice
And awakes from his dream
Disrupting
The world
And everything
From continuing
To move
Back and forth
Instead she moves
Forward

-m.T

(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

Acquainted Strangers

fade away

There he was- a remarkable man; a savior who embodied calamity, conviction and intuition. Bewildered. She stared at him closely. She allowed her eyes to absorb the very nature of the man she did not know. Guarded. Her lungs absorbed an energy, a force, which was transparent in the open space between them. Inexplicable. Astounded by his ability to touch her soul, she ran. She ran into the open field, where fog thickly blanketed the air. She didn’t know where she was running to. All she could be certain of was that she was running from a stranger who made her feel like he knew her far too well.

Out of breath and out of time, she fell to her knees and threw her body to the ground. Afraid he may find her lying there, she grabbed onto the thin blades of grass, which demonstrated the only proof that wind existed, and pleaded with the man above to help her. She dug her face in the dirt and smelled the earth, ready to become a part of it and fearful she was fated to die. Silence became her. She could hear his body moving closer to where she lay. She dug her face deeper into the ground, reluctant; for she did not want her eyes to witness herself become a victim. She felt him standing over her. She held her breath and begged her body to rid itself of sensation. She became numb. Unable to sense what was going to happen next, she lay still, ill prepared to become his prey.

He stood there without much to say as he admired her in a submissive state. He was saddened by it. She lay there before him, withered, helpless and frightened. He could sense her loss of innocence, her obsession with self-destruction and her commitment to freedom and everything wild and free. He knelt next to her and asked if she was alive. She didn’t answer.

Somewhere amidst the chaos in the world, in their world, they found each other. It’s as if fate had magically worked itself out, as it usually does, bringing two lonely strangers to a place where being a nobody had lost its relevance. She hadn’t quite realized that her life had passed her by. She hadn’t realized that she wasn’t quite so little anymore. She had discovered that all was not right in the world. This became quite shocking for a frail girl with big eyes, a hungry heart and thirst for imagination. There, in the dirt, she lay disconnected from the outside world, in a tall field of grass listening to the crickets speak in unison with the speed of the wind. There was nothing ordinary about being ordinary to her.  She forgot what it was like to change and be different, or perhaps it was the world she lived in that made it appear as though she hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t seem complacent or worrisome, yet there was a particular sadness that followed her- a certain kind of sadness that became addictive. Was she living to die or dying to live? Perhaps her blank face and routine days echoed a simple, yet profound statement about living such an ordinary life. Was she so different than the rest of her suburban neighbors? Undoubtedly no.  Confined to this world, she became so plain because plain is all she could be if it meant blending in with a very, very unpromising Suburbia.

Although she hadn’t said a word about anything above, he was well aware of who she was and how she got there. He was intrigued. He lit a cigarette and handed it to her, “Now finish your story.”

Violated. He had violated her mind. Although she felt naked, she was compelled to finish where his ability to read her mind, had left off.

-m.T