The thought of losing her child still burnt her core, like flaming daggers that jutted out from her abdomen.
Her pains continuously reminded her of what her belly lacked, an emptiness as she searched for something more.
“I had more…” she whispers to herself, realizing that now she has nothing. Blocking out bitter thoughts that pinch the minds tongue like vinegar; restricting logical thought from speech.
Disbelief in her grief buckling her knees, so she kneels before her truth. The same truth that violated her each night…and each morning…every morning this ‘Truth’ would plunge a fist into her and rip out her baby, the same way it did back when it first hit her. But the pain of the absence never got better…just emptier. It still felt like razor blades to the back of her mind – a flaming pitch-fork of ‘what if’s’ tearing through her insides – just like at first…but emptier; less emotion…no, rather no emotion.
Feeling like a hollow shell with not much more substance than a vacuum and all the consistency of a fading daydream.
There are some that speak differently of heaven and hell than the rest.
They describe heaven as ones happiest moment, frozen in an instant of time; and that’s where they’d stay forever – in a single second of infinite bliss. That being said, it should be clear to most what hell must be – unfathomably excruciating pain in one split second repeated for all eternity.
For all eternity…all of it, not part, ALL! And that’s exactly it…what she lived in every second that ticked by without her baby to hold; without her baby to fill the vacancy that existed between her arms; the vacancy that echoed through her life revealing her absence of self or anything that resembled meaning in any form. What meaning could there be for her to fulfil? What meaning could there be for the death of her little baby?!
And with the silence that replied her cries and moist screams, came the shallow words of a clichéd proverb she’d heard once, “Everything happens for a reason…”, so to this anonymous author she held contempt, for she saw no rhythm, rhyme, or reason for her stolen meaning and very reason for existing and for bothering to breathe.
She begged for her sunshine that never came. She begged for an antidote to the pain and an anchor to keep her senses sane.
But still the tears ran a race down the length of her face to finish as they leapt like suicidal waterfalls off of her lips, cheeks, and chin to the even colder surface of the floor.
Without warning, all consuming tears that flooded and suffocated all other feelings.
Without child, and love of such, leaving her without an out to leave to.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Songs of a Beaten Foetus
I sing the songs of a beaten foetus
Throat hung by an umbilical noose of excuses
Strangled by coagulated blood clots
That drip and drop lost thoughts
Thickening, half-caught in premature brain rot
Thickening what’s taught as the same plot
The pain stops.
Now stuck in a rut, trapped in the cage of Azania’s hips
Wrists twisted a little bit, split like a forearm slit
And the fires that dript from the drops that dript
Well in the womb and suckle on milk
Made sour by Azania’s un-nurturing tit
So bitterly sits her deeds on the young infants lips
That it struggles to speak
Over its mother’s stuttering speech
Cause the youth trip over her words
Although it’s her tongue that slipped
So hush young one, unclench your defeated (de-foet-ed) fists
Let yourself go, and drift towards the peace
I will sing your song
I will place the pains of cynical sympathy right where they belong
Replace the claims of impotent empathy, only right when you are wrong.
Incubating in an amniotic fluid of saturated ideologies
With a numbing sensation of lullabying anaesthesiology
Hypodermic? Probably,
But the thoughts acidic, commonly
So her pregnancy’s mismanaged
The child attempts to heal damages
Its will still bleeds real as feelings constrict bandages
Thus it’s pain that ravages
And playfully mishandles it
Knowing that you’d rather die than face the worlds savages
Although you’ll never know fear, you seem to miss courage
Hidden in the rubble of misdeeds and fiend rubbish
So I will sing your song, oh mistreated and beaten foetus
Waiting for that day and time that you will reach us
A day you try postpone and try to hide from
But it’s too late, and yes, the time has come
that you forcibly still born
but a body without a life, a still-born.
Throat hung by an umbilical noose of excuses
Strangled by coagulated blood clots
That drip and drop lost thoughts
Thickening, half-caught in premature brain rot
Thickening what’s taught as the same plot
The pain stops.
Now stuck in a rut, trapped in the cage of Azania’s hips
Wrists twisted a little bit, split like a forearm slit
And the fires that dript from the drops that dript
Well in the womb and suckle on milk
Made sour by Azania’s un-nurturing tit
So bitterly sits her deeds on the young infants lips
That it struggles to speak
Over its mother’s stuttering speech
Cause the youth trip over her words
Although it’s her tongue that slipped
So hush young one, unclench your defeated (de-foet-ed) fists
Let yourself go, and drift towards the peace
I will sing your song
I will place the pains of cynical sympathy right where they belong
Replace the claims of impotent empathy, only right when you are wrong.
Incubating in an amniotic fluid of saturated ideologies
With a numbing sensation of lullabying anaesthesiology
Hypodermic? Probably,
But the thoughts acidic, commonly
So her pregnancy’s mismanaged
The child attempts to heal damages
Its will still bleeds real as feelings constrict bandages
Thus it’s pain that ravages
And playfully mishandles it
Knowing that you’d rather die than face the worlds savages
Although you’ll never know fear, you seem to miss courage
Hidden in the rubble of misdeeds and fiend rubbish
So I will sing your song, oh mistreated and beaten foetus
Waiting for that day and time that you will reach us
A day you try postpone and try to hide from
But it’s too late, and yes, the time has come
that you forcibly still born
but a body without a life, a still-born.
Where I'm From
They say the news comes ‘round twice a day
Where I’m from
They sat time is spent sowing tomorrows
And reminiscing on the blessings of yesterday
Where I’m from
And where I’m from
The glow of the sun
Brings a tear to your eye
And caresses the skin so tenderly
They say the wind whispers through the trees
And snickers gossip to the birds
Where I’m from
Windows swing open
And welcome the “Kingdom Come”
With smiles and chants and songs
Where I’m from
They say the beginning never stops
And the sun never sets
On ticking clocks
‘cause where I’m from
is a place the colonisers have forgot
where I’m from
life has no cost
and there’s no love lost
with each tear drop
it’s where peace is freedom
and stands as witness to my existence
where they say your past makes no difference
it’s where I’m from.
Where I’m from
They sat time is spent sowing tomorrows
And reminiscing on the blessings of yesterday
Where I’m from
And where I’m from
The glow of the sun
Brings a tear to your eye
And caresses the skin so tenderly
They say the wind whispers through the trees
And snickers gossip to the birds
Where I’m from
Windows swing open
And welcome the “Kingdom Come”
With smiles and chants and songs
Where I’m from
They say the beginning never stops
And the sun never sets
On ticking clocks
‘cause where I’m from
is a place the colonisers have forgot
where I’m from
life has no cost
and there’s no love lost
with each tear drop
it’s where peace is freedom
and stands as witness to my existence
where they say your past makes no difference
it’s where I’m from.
In The Shadow of The Mountain
Eradicate.
Fade away while fate awaits.
Sit and wait while your innards decay.
Laid-off and laid to rest bear,
Bear breasted and back striped naked.
Faking the art of taking in breath just to evade death.
Failing to be,
Derailing the thought to recreate me in the minds of the last ones left standing.
Repeating meaningless ramblings,
Mere gambling’s of a life that was never yours to start with.
Disregarded are retarded seeds with no heart beat,
But a single pulse
That’s very feel is false.
Feeling very real, but your not!
Like you forgot that you’re not part of the written plot!
You are a mere feature,
An extra in your own life’s story.
Rhetorical notions of imaginary voices and choices that you’ve never had!
Never sad
Because that would imply emotion and EMOTION is what you’ve never had!
Just be glad that times revolving barrel will eventually eradicated the very memory of you’re existence.
Your life shows the signs of a struggle that hasn’t yet happened
Fade away while fate awaits.
Sit and wait while your innards decay.
Laid-off and laid to rest bear,
Bear breasted and back striped naked.
Faking the art of taking in breath just to evade death.
Failing to be,
Derailing the thought to recreate me in the minds of the last ones left standing.
Repeating meaningless ramblings,
Mere gambling’s of a life that was never yours to start with.
Disregarded are retarded seeds with no heart beat,
But a single pulse
That’s very feel is false.
Feeling very real, but your not!
Like you forgot that you’re not part of the written plot!
You are a mere feature,
An extra in your own life’s story.
Rhetorical notions of imaginary voices and choices that you’ve never had!
Never sad
Because that would imply emotion and EMOTION is what you’ve never had!
Just be glad that times revolving barrel will eventually eradicated the very memory of you’re existence.
Your life shows the signs of a struggle that hasn’t yet happened
I Died with You
If I cried a river that stretched to the very depths of hell,
Would it help to resurrect you from the dead;
Would it help to raise my head?
Although I would only be able to raise my head if I knew that the first face I would see would be yours.
But it won’t,
So I won’t raise my head,
Rather let me wish myself dead as well, so I may lay right beside you in the grave.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I hallucinate that you are awake and that you didn’t forsake me.
But you did,
So I’ll have to rid my thoughts of what could’ve been
If you could’ve seen another sunrise,
Another sunset,
Another day spent admiring the beauty that we saw inside each other;
The beauty that only me could see.
We were told that we could not write just because the rest of the world couldn’t read.
Within one another we planted a seed that could do nothing but bear fruit;
The same fruit that would our souls feed.
Now suddenly I realize that you aren’t coming back.
Suddenly I realize that the very substance that I lack is the same essence of spirit that resided in you.
And thus the meaning in me was laid to rest in your embrace.
Your tears ran down my cheek and dried on my lips.
Remembering you tears my soul because you died in a kiss.
Why don’t you hear my prayers?
I believe in nothing, since everything I loved in you has been reduced to dust and ashes.
My sadness clashes with my blessed suicidal self-sacrifices.
I do not believe in sight since your death has given me the insight that I am blind.
We were kindred spirits.
What we felt was far beyond Para-physics.
Every time we connected we flew far above the mental torment that was our life.
We lived as one person in two,
So every prayer we said had to be spoken twice.
Why is it that this night feels so cold?
My will to question fate is defeated
And thus so is my faith in a destiny that stands true.
I no longer believe in eternity, because my forever died with you.
Would it help to resurrect you from the dead;
Would it help to raise my head?
Although I would only be able to raise my head if I knew that the first face I would see would be yours.
But it won’t,
So I won’t raise my head,
Rather let me wish myself dead as well, so I may lay right beside you in the grave.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I hallucinate that you are awake and that you didn’t forsake me.
But you did,
So I’ll have to rid my thoughts of what could’ve been
If you could’ve seen another sunrise,
Another sunset,
Another day spent admiring the beauty that we saw inside each other;
The beauty that only me could see.
We were told that we could not write just because the rest of the world couldn’t read.
Within one another we planted a seed that could do nothing but bear fruit;
The same fruit that would our souls feed.
Now suddenly I realize that you aren’t coming back.
Suddenly I realize that the very substance that I lack is the same essence of spirit that resided in you.
And thus the meaning in me was laid to rest in your embrace.
Your tears ran down my cheek and dried on my lips.
Remembering you tears my soul because you died in a kiss.
Why don’t you hear my prayers?
I believe in nothing, since everything I loved in you has been reduced to dust and ashes.
My sadness clashes with my blessed suicidal self-sacrifices.
I do not believe in sight since your death has given me the insight that I am blind.
We were kindred spirits.
What we felt was far beyond Para-physics.
Every time we connected we flew far above the mental torment that was our life.
We lived as one person in two,
So every prayer we said had to be spoken twice.
Why is it that this night feels so cold?
My will to question fate is defeated
And thus so is my faith in a destiny that stands true.
I no longer believe in eternity, because my forever died with you.
Breathe and Cry
Why is the wind at twilight
Colder than the breeze of the morning?
Why are there no arms around
When I need someone to hold me?
Why does it seem
That their concerns are all phoney?
Why do they turn their heads
In the moments I am falling,
And give me an icy shoulder
As the wind comes back coldly?
Why am I a natural disaster
Whose fates blamed on chance,
Although circumstance is a reply
To the questions I have asked?
Why is inner beauty never seen as that,
Although outer beauty’s as see through as glass?
Why are my problems of today
Always blamed on the past?
It’s like no one else sees this
As a frivolous task.
Why does this wind come back
When I’m struggling to gasp,
Taking with it this fickle hope
That I’ve kept as my last?
Why is it,
And why can’t I understand,
Why the most important points
Are the hardest ones to grasp?
And why can I only breathe and cry
When the morning breeze has passed?
Colder than the breeze of the morning?
Why are there no arms around
When I need someone to hold me?
Why does it seem
That their concerns are all phoney?
Why do they turn their heads
In the moments I am falling,
And give me an icy shoulder
As the wind comes back coldly?
Why am I a natural disaster
Whose fates blamed on chance,
Although circumstance is a reply
To the questions I have asked?
Why is inner beauty never seen as that,
Although outer beauty’s as see through as glass?
Why are my problems of today
Always blamed on the past?
It’s like no one else sees this
As a frivolous task.
Why does this wind come back
When I’m struggling to gasp,
Taking with it this fickle hope
That I’ve kept as my last?
Why is it,
And why can’t I understand,
Why the most important points
Are the hardest ones to grasp?
And why can I only breathe and cry
When the morning breeze has passed?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
My Expression
Just did this last night during breaks while I was studying for my test today. I originally designed it as poster concept for the poetry sessions that I host on the campus, hence it says "Expression Sessionz - Do You..."!
This was my first time using photoshop [I'm a Biomedicine not a Graphic Design student =O)], so this was quite a challenge for me to do, which I liked. Another thing that made this hard was that it was started on Microsoft Word...Don't ask me how I made it a JPEG and worked with it on photoshop...It was rough
And so, these are the fruits of my labour.
I Love This!!
I hope you do too
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