Untitled

[Guest nior]

I hear your voice

Ringing throughout my mind

Interspersed with flashes of your blows

Raining down upon my body

Pinning me

Back in time

To twenty-five years ago.

Sound of mom

Weeping uncontrollably

On the kitchen floor

Curled into a fetal position

Vain attempt to protect herself

As your foot

Pounds away

Like a steam engine piston.

Stupidly

I throw myself at you

Hoping to draw your focus

Away from mom

Instead of going upstairs

To call the police

For help.

What the heck

Was I thinking of

Given my pathetic body

Could make a difference here

Against your turbo-charged fury of rage

Strength belying

Your twelve year old body.

To the outside world

We are the perfect nuclear family

Husband wife and two kids

Yet rotten at the core

Suicidal thoughts

Constantly filled my childhood mind

On top of the daily exposure to violence

Great foundation

For a strong and healthy personality.

People wonder

Why I am so cynical

Beyond my years

Just grin and shrug my shoulders

As I walk away.

Who would believe me

If I told them

The whole truth.

Is that

The sound of crickets chirping

I hear

Do believe it is

Guess that’s my answer.

[Guest Donna Jean]

Sad, sad, sad.....

A sad poem and even sadder to think that's what happened...

I'm sorry...

Donna Jean

[Guest nior]

Sad, sad, sad.....

A sad poem and even sadder to think that's what happened...

I'm sorry...

Donna Jean

I know, but I wrote, in the hope that seeing in print, will lease its impact upon my soul. I do write happy thoughts, except they ran away from me. Seriously, writing is meant, as a private therapy for me. Any posted poem, is sharing a part of my life, with others.

nior.

[Guest Elizabeth K]

Nior

It was a release of sorts I hope.

It was also well written and I think you should consider writing more like this - more happy or sad, or somewhere in the middle - it is good what you wrote.

The chirping crickets? I hear those. I supposedly have 55% loss in one ear, but it is the crickets that drown most of what I hear - but infection caused - my dad never hit my face - he was more subtle.

We are the product of our childhood. Please parents, don't hurt your children, it affects them to their very core.

Lizzy

[Guest nior]

Nior

It was a release of sorts I hope.

It was also well written and I think you should consider writing more like this - more happy or sad, or somewhere in the middle - it is good what you wrote.

The chirping crickets? I hear those. I supposedly have 55% loss in one ear, but it is the crickets that drown most of what I hear - but infection caused - my dad never hit my face - he was more subtle.

We are the product of our childhood. Please parents, don't hurt your children, it affects them to their very core.

Lizzy

Lizzy, it was my younger brother, who did the assaulting, often got pushed down stairs by him. These flashback occurred while my dad was in a hospital, recovering from a near fatal bypass surgery. Summer of 85, is the one from Hell for me.

nior

[Guest Elizabeth K]

Lizzy, it was my younger brother, who did the assaulting, often got pushed down stairs by him. These flashback occurred while my dad was in a hospital, recovering from a near fatal bypass surgery. Summer of 85, is the one from Hell for me.

nior

Sad

I didn't have a brother. Our house was one story. It was 1951 - maybe lasted through 1958 - in the bathroom, leather belt usually, sometimes my mother and sisters screaming outside the door.

'This hurts me more than it hurts you!' Yeah - right dad!

I think it was the prelecture - I hated more. "I had it so much worse," he'd begin, "My dad used a razor strop!" Whatever dad, its leather, long and vicious either way, strop or belt... "Are you mocking me?" No dad... "I don't like the tone of your voice!' It's terror dad... that's all.

Hateful times!

[Guest nior]

The kids at my various schools, who took the role of your dad, for me. Often wonder, what did I do wrong, to deserve this type of attention. Nothing was safe from them, when they got in a certain mood. As my brother, he is dead to me, I have told him, personally, 3 years ago, but still haunts my dreams and memories.