Spices covers shimmering as the chef lingers over a half-baked sweet.
His body pose shows a master.
Something well versed in kitchens disaster.
He sprinkles confetti on top a cake and mixed batter in with well-done fate.
He is a master, this man who creates.
A chef in this kitchen.
In an unknown place
Those lost lambs
With teeth that bit too much
From the tree
Of captivity
And came to know too much
Reckless sinner unhand me
speaking words as you bleed
did you not see the lies
or where you to busy averting you eyes
hiding away from gods grace
turning love to shame in his holy name
tactless sinner who dared to grieve
speaking words till you bleed
did you mean to unhand me
or where you to busy down on your knees
begging a god who has left unseen
soaking in such terrible dreams
thoughtless sinner who left me free
drowning in words that surely bleed
you weren’t meant to do these deeds
yet you lie there in a broken heap
revenge for a god who can never be
Did he who made the lamb make me
Or was it a mistake of unseen force
Crawling along the dirty ground
Hissing, protectively, over a dented crown
Did he smile his work to see
When he first laid eyes on me
Did he dare touch in wonder
The greatest visual of his blunder
When the heaven opened up with spears
And swallowed their pity with their tears
Did they water me with grace
Or did they turn from the greatest mistake
Credit to William Blake for being a genuis with a pen and paper (Inspored by (Tyger, Tyger) . Please do not look on me to harshly for ruining a great piece of art.
I must wear it like a chain around my neck
A bloody weight specially made of gossamer wings and naivety
For a split second I can see it
A tiny throne for a tiny king
Strong,
holding me upon a dirty bed
Strangers walk by with their stilted lies
throwing their red paint and holy words
A christening by those who curse
It must be hanging like a noose
This tightly woven cradle where tiny kings,
With tiny wings can slumber
For a split second I can feel it
(Tantalizing fingers glimmer, gently brushing remembering the need)
Remembering the greed
It didn’t take that long to bleed
As they tugged and pulled away my flesh
Cutting into my skin like a second dress
I remember it so clearly
Maybe that is why I wear it around my neck
This bloody weight specially made of
Gossamer wings and tenacity
Such a tiny throne for a unwanted king
I contemplated praying the other day when I saw my mother crying. An irresistible urge to comfort her in the only way she knows how. But I digested the feeling and found it lacking…something.
A certain flavor to give rise to my struggles. Not things I share with those flawed like me but something I quickly lust about to those others who believe. Others who are so far from me but still people I love.
I saw my mother crying and wanted to give comfort in the only way she knew how. Copy the posture beaten into me and speak past a jaw wired shut. But there was something wrong with this image. This debatable fiction layed out before me.
I tried to bring up the images of those I despise with such a passionate love that it can only be fate. Oh how I tried to push them away but when I needed them most they stood by. Watching my mother with regretful tears in her eyes. Me on my knees easing my hands on high!
But I distress with this taste in my mouth most foul and tamed. Struggling past the restraint to say amen.
An often cliche question right before one dies
“Where is God”
The devote Christian cries.
Before the trigger is pulled
And brain matter is allowed to splatter
A question is asked
Though the answer doesn’t matter.
As they run place to place
A students blood freash on thier face
They ask a question
Though they don’t truly care
A cliched question
A poetic end
“Where is God
The supposed Saviour to us all?”
Only a bullet wound
is the respected response.
I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end.
I know Christians who want to kill themselves. Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion.
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them.
So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled
“Where is God?”
In the end things may change
They may come upon better days
Or they may fall
Fail at all they do
Depends on how much they
Believe in you.
It has been a while. So much sickness and death in my family has kept me from writing. I promise to trt my hardest to grt back into it.
Today I had a conversation with someone about parenting. Now normally these end on a pretty positive note despite some arguments in the middle. Yet this time I was left with a horrible taste in my mouth. I felt so very dirty after talking to them.
They told me how once they became a parent they would not allow their children to have any toys or watch TV. They would monitor the friends they made and their lives will be filled with nothing but learning. Even from the womb they would be teaching them a new language.
Now all that isn’t all that bad. All parents do a variation of this. What made me feel ill is how they would go about doing this. How the child would not be allowed to talk to others outside of the family. How they had no choice in this and werent not allowed to play. First they said no tv but that they could play old school games. When I mentioned that games where TV time pretty much, they changed it to that the child can watch TV but not much. They would only get movies and the child would not allowed to read anything that wasn’t educational.
If the child did not like this then the childs only option was to move out. They had to obey all rules or would be forced to go to the nearest mental ward for a bit…no matter the age. So if their 4-year-old was giving them problems they would call the comes and have them admitted.
I listened to this for as long as I could handle before I couldn’t take anymore. They said that they lived a life such as this and grew up fine but when talking about their parents you could tell they hated them. They treated the parents like shit and gleefully explained how they should no longer be allowed do certain things. Like be on social media or even talk to them. They said they loved their parents a lot.
They said that they turned out fine but they are homeless and they have a sibling who is in jail…yet both turned out fine from their own choices. Despite having a life they said guarantees them success in life.
I urged them to read a parenting book but they explained that they would make the perfect parent. I highly doubt that…
There is nothing wrong with being a someone strict parent but being both strict and a helicopter parent won’t help a thing.
This life of this hypothetical child sounded horrible. I felt like crying because I couldn’t image this sort of suffering. To not be able to have friends and enjoy life. They wouldn’t even be allowed outside cause they had studies to do. Sure they may have a good adult life but what about their childhood. Being smart is something we all strive for but that won’t bring us happiness. Sure having a crap ton of money, doing well in school, having various skills is nice, but what about life?
What is the point of living when you are alone?
This person seemed almost proud of how things are and I hate them for it. I know I am judging their life. I have my own issues. My life wasn’t perfect at all. I had the strict parent and I had the one who wasn’t there. I had the parent who tried to be my best friend and I had the parent who wanted me to worship the air they breathe. The ones who say they are always right no matter what and the ones who admitted perpetual defeat.
I was raised with it all and I did not turn out fine. I was spanked as a child and hate the ones who did it. I plotted their deaths for quite some time. Wasn’t till I was an adult that I realized that they came out of the experience able to sleep at night, and I was the only one who hated myself for it.
As a parent I see myself as more Permissive/ authoritative style. I give in a lot of the time. I want my daughter to have her own mind and at times forget that I have one. I have a hard time staying structured. I am pretty spontaneous as a parent which can be good and bad. I love talking to my daughter about how she is feeling. Is she gets into trouble we talk it through. Sometimes I just randomly ask her how she feels. It makes me happy cause there are times she will do the same for me. Praise is often given for no real reason in my home. I can be distant when I go through a bout of depression and I really hate playing pretend. But I make up for it by singing with her and reading her books whenever I can. We play dress up and paint our nails.
I do not expect much from her. I just got to the point where she has to pick up her own toys but I do not push a lot of issues. As long as she does her best I am happy.
This can make it seem as though I see her as a friend and I guess there are times I do. My daughter is the only person I talk to. I can go months without speaking to anyone who isn’t paid to be around me (Therapists, Doctors,etc). I sometimes forget what it feels like to talk to an actual adult. Now I go about a week without speaking to friends but it still takes a toll on my parenting. I am a single mom and it is hard for me to get to know people. I came from a pretty chaotic background. She is all I have really. It takes looking through articles such as this for me to realize how what I am doing affects her development.
I still have structure. She get rewarded or disciplined for bad behaviour. I no longer allow her to do what she wants but I am not yet where I want to be as a parent.
Still when this person told me about their plans it sickened me. It sounded like a prison. I know I am probably judging them harshly but I couldn’t take it. Once they left a weight was lifted from me. Their very presence was causing me to go insane.
This may not make any sense to many. It may even seem a bit silly to get upset over something like this. Something so small as talking about a child who isn’t here. Looking back at it all I probably over reacted but I won’t say a thing to them. I no longer trust them and want nothing to do with them. In my eyes they are monsters. How could they do this? How could they treat a child so? I have a feeling that is silly but my hurt and anger won’t go away.
I hate this…
A dull blade to past the time.
Don’t worry sinner, I won’t take something that isn’t mine. I know my place at the holy gate. I know that death is a welcomed fate. Yet I can’t imagine how you must feel. Me looking down on you as you choose to do what you will. And here I got shit for giving you free will.
Yet still I lend a helping hand. Sure it is not always welcomed but in the end, does it matter?
You will come into my light eventually. So what if you suffer a bit. So what if your life is full of pain. I mean, come on, to see me is a win-win.
A dull blade to past the time.
Crusted blood on tile floors that used to shine. I know you feel bad and you want to end but don’t you know giving up is a sin.
It sort of sucks if you think about it though. I give you a life yet make it hard to bear. Give you choices upon choices but never will tell you the right one to make. So you shuffle through life thinking you are mistake. The one clause given to make it all go away is the very one you can’t even take. Instead I give you sin to test your love. I give you people around you who have the free will to judge.
I stamp title on your body so people can see. Sure I love you and in the end you’ll have me. But till then stay where you are. It will be ok, I mean maybe…maybe not. In time it will be ok.
A dull blade to pass the time.
So fondle your blade slowly with tears sliding down your face. I will not take it from you because it is not my place. Instead I will stand here at the holy gate and wait. Wait till the life I made you takes control and ends you or someone else steps up to the plate.
I am the only one who cares in the end anyways.
A Petty Poet Poem Production.
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 