Feature 06-06-2010

I do apologize for being a day or two late on features.  For some reason I was thinking that next week was my turn to do them.  Anyway…. I enjoyed my morning going through and picking out what I wanted.  I had a very difficult time this go around because it seems like a ton of work has been added lately.  I felt bad about leaving a few things off, because sometimes trying to cut it down to only 12 features is impossible.  So I made notes of the ones I had to scratch this go around.  If someone doesn’t beat me to the punch, I’ll try to hit them when it’s my turn again.  Here they are:

No platitudes for comfort – pix83

Little one, why do you cry?
Did somebody say something?
Did somebody do nothing?
Did something but said nothing?
Hush now. It will be over.
The tears will stop.
The blood will cease.
The world will keep on turning.
Come now. Don’t be a baby.
Don’t let anyone see you.
Not like this, without the smile
blinding them from the obvious.
Without the inane chatter
t o silence the tragic words.
Give someone something to hold –
they’ll use it as a weapon.
Wisen up now, little one.
The sooner done, the better.
Leave your fortress of fancies,
held aloft by illusions.
Just leap off that window ledge.
Don’t be afraid of the ground.
The pain will never compare
to what you’re feeling now.
Stop your pathetic weeping.
Don’t grieve for things you can’t change.
Never mind the broken shards;
sweep them under the carpet.
Life has handed you the cards.
Play them well or die trying.
And should your final day come,
Without the comfort you seek,
Then let the tears flow anew.

Beyond those tracks – evitaoz

The introverts are travelling backwards
On their rails of familiarity
The rat racers are zooming towards
The elusive deadline
The money man rubs his hands
Prints more hardship currency
Children crying for attention
Feebly hold up mirrors
Mother Nature sighs and trembles
Under a cancerous human growth
Still she paints the mornings
In colours of her hope

Mare Insularum – YakusoNono

We’ve turned this night of calm into a tempest of emotions

Creating flames from the friction of our humid bodies

Writing the story of how we reached the climax on the damped sheets of cotton

Who could ever see from our palsy what unfolded only a few breaths ago?

Our muscles twitching ever so slightly as the heat we quickly turned up

Gently melted itself down

I rest halfway on your spine

Hearing the shifting velocity of your heartbeat through the cage of bone;

My new favorite pillow

And even in the dark of the room

I can see you as clear as day,

Aided by the moonshine shinning through

The closed shades of the flower pot’s window

Determined to catch us unguarded—as we were

While you slept soundly, I traced a line on your back

My fingernails softly scrapping your firm skin; hairs standing on end,

Landing each on an island paradise

Imprinted on you from birth

The lips you claimed where yours whispered words of lust and longing

Into the space between your sea of islands and my own sailboat

But only the moon’s shadow puppets dancing on the walls would hear the testimony

Upon waking, when all evidence of love making have been absorbed into our skin,

I shall tell you of the time I migrated from my loneliness

And crafted a nest in the still of the night, straight into your primal self

A Special Woman – Trenchtownrock

If only
the sky will stop moving
changing so quickly
giving my arm time
to reach across the pond
and stroke your silky skin
looking in your sea green
writing poetry of love
on your lips with my fingertips…..slowly
you are that woman
that moves me
your words carved into my flesh
my scriptures

can you feel my shadow
breathing on the smallest hair on your arm
can you feel me taking you for a waltz
it is a beat that only you and I can hear
it is a beat that speaks of love
that though far apart
breathes the same air
close your eyes my love
your morning and my night
serenades the skies
meeting at the half way point
of forever
the ocean knows our spirit
the ghost of those gone
are guiding this path
and our love will last
one of a kind

only one – strawberries

In a world of chaos, money and destruction,
These is only one thing that matters,
In my mind of darkness, doubt and despair,
There is only one light that counts.

In a black and white movie, your are the colour,
When the day is dull and dreary, you are my saviour,
When there is no sound, you are the music in my ears,
In a world on my own, you fight away my fears.

In a heart full of pain, uncertainty and loneliness,
There is only but one cure,
In my cold, tangled fantasies,
There is only one super-hero.

In a cold, dark world, you are my sunlight,
When the day is done, it’s you, who’s by my side,
When there is nothing left, you give me something worth living for,
In a cold place, it is you who warms me to the core.

And for all that has been, and for what is yet to come,
I’ll be by your side, where I belong,
I’ll make no promises, save only one,
To be here,
To fight for you,
And to love you till with my dying breath I’m done.

Unconditional Heart Part I – Anthea Slade

open heart like a flower in the sun
fingers touch the sky that weeps
as petals lick the skin wet
dreams of the elusive rain drop
a seductive key to pandora’s lock.

clarify the gypsy vision
radiate colours that caress
shiver the hot breath quivers near the restless
eyes that look deep into the heart
and do not miss a beat

shape, form, content present
arrested by the soul that speaks
behind the mask of mystery
and the allure of articulate grace
the twitch, the flicker, the sensitivity of your face

penetrating colours cannot hide
the constant hunger that illuminates
the subtext behind the words in ink
pulsating feelings that grow more ripe
as sounds pass inside the illusion of
your elegant dream

dancing with the luminous silence
questions are asked more than answered
respect the difference
yearning for statements that have meaning
beyond the limitations of the moment
outside the confines of an intellectual rhyme

a blood beating heart
pieces back together
growing bigger beyond imagination
colours expanding, mind illuminating
the power of the raw beauty of a heart
that feels without condition

ah, a dream, a vision, a raw truth
to see, to imagine, to touch, to feel
an unconditional heart exists
still lives boom boom boom
in divine grace still beats

TBF Features – Week of May 1

I feel like I have been MIA from this group for awhile.  I’ve been in a rut the last couple months and haven’t had time to write or create much so this has been a nice opportunity for me to at least see what others are up to.  And per usual, it’s next to impossible to only feature this much but I do my best.  So here you are:


Cold Comfort – cosimopiro

It’s cold tonight,
chilling to aching bones,
frozen in time.
Sepulchral thoughts
through yearning veins,
ghostly apparitions
my sleepy vision.
My farewell to you
into empty night
through memories of you.

No more,
no more
your face I’ll hold,
eyes will see.

How does one
a memory
when it fades
with the wind?
How does one
to a voice
when it has no volume
my own moans.

No more,
no more
your songs I’ll hear,
skin will feel.

This weeping lament,
from solemn heart
through rustling leaves,
heaven bound
with mournful breath.
It’s cold tonight,
a bitter walk
through crying soul,
where fathomless empty
cannot be filled
and longing
for you
never be quenched.

No more,
no more
your comfort felt,
walk this path.

Cold comfort,
acceptance is,
when icy darkness
arctic fingers
around sorrowful heart.
How does one
feel warmth
on a night
like tonight
when all about me
spectral icicles
my grieving thoughts.

No more,
no more,
it passes by,
forever more
rest in peace.

A Force That Can Wreck You – greeneyedlady

i am aware of her power
and i want to be like that
i want to be the first
to commit the hostile act
i want it to radiate off of me, too
i want to be loose and slutty
i want to lure you into my trap
i want to be utterly female
to wield that awesome power over you
i want to let my darker side out
i don’t want to be your saint anymore
i want to be your whore
i’m tired of being the good girl
who never gets a really good screw
i close my eyes and imagine the two of you
and i want that power, too
that orgasmic high that comes
from holding you under my thumb
don’t you like it when she does it to you?
i want to be like that, too
and i want you to hate it
i want you to recoil
yet be drawn to me in spite of yourself
i want you to fear that i, too
am a force that can wreck you
with my orgasmic magnet
i want that power, too
i want to be a dirty little secret
the same as she

The Rower – Mieke Boynton

The watery depths lie dark and still below,
and deep velvet blue stains the speechless night.
The speckled heavens shed the only light
on a solitary sculler out to row.

Reflections ripple off the sparkling bow
while stillness claims the puddles left behind.
The rower, navigating almost blind,
attempts to smooth the worry from her brow.

The darkness gently lifts to meet the dawn
whose golden morning splendour dyes the sky,
the graceful sculler gliding swiftly by
marvels at another new day born.

Every Colour Is U – Willow Wyles

I paint a picture …
nothin is angelic as u.
I look at kids laughin…
no one laughs like u.
I look at a full moon all it’s glow…
no moon is as full as your magic.
I look at golden fields blowin in the wind…
the gold becomes a mesh of u.
I look at a shootin star it is gone…
u remain and u glow.
I watch a flower close at night…
u become my mornin open to the day.
I look at a sunset with a wave crestin to the shore…
u become the sand for me to rest.
I look at reflections,reflections of me…
I am not perfect in my eyes…
YOU are….
i will always love u…

You Love It When I Fall – rubyjo

there’s a heaviness somewhere deep
when the cruelty i recall
you stand back and watch the show
you love it when i fall

your mocking smile is aimed at me
you laugh when i react
fling the words into the wind
you can’t take them back

hurt me with your acid mouth
throw it in my face
you tanned my hide from silk to leather
you stole away my lace

pull attention to my fate
and speak profanity
bring me down with hateful names
there is no vanity

calculate your risks
then throw caution to the wind
beat me with your hateful words
see how far i bend

seize the opportunity
you go in for the kill
twist the knife a time or two
it gives you such a thrill

you delight in all the chaos
as the scenes in front unfold
pleasure is a foreign word
your intention is so cold

your anger boils on the surface
i wonder if you’re sane
i see the triumph on your face
you get pleasure from my pain

you live a life so empty
no substance there at all
your house is void of color
as you wander through the halls

my mind is heavy when i think
of all the hate i saw
you and your wicked smile
you love it when i fall

tomorrow – Lisa Jewell

in a sacred lullaby we adore


good and bad me

a ceremony

true to our loved selves


of ages

swept up in the moon

i use a fingertip covered with cupid lines

to touch skin to skin


yesterday of prayer hopeful

dances with the left over moon dust

angels who love all

mix with cigarette smoking demons

a ghost

rattles parables into my ears

my blood dries clear

metaphors cry anguish on my sleave



it was not one of those times of rise up and fall down’s

the plane

guessed my plain

under the Trevi fountain


kissing my no regret lips

i had no idea

i would cocoon

into the beginning and end

woman that stands invisible by your side



Redbubble Artist – Ingz

Since I’ve become a host of the Touched By Fire Group, I’ve discovered quite a few artists that I previously did not know, which has been an amazing journey for me.  It’s nice to be able to go through and moderate all the work and see it as it come through.  I get blown away every single day.  Pretty recently I finally decided to dig through some portfolios of you amazing artists in this group.

I was stunned when I looked at the portfolio of Ingz.  For those of you who know me, and have looked at my work before, you can tell how much I love people, portraits, and women.  However, other styles of work can really blow me away.  Ingz’s macros and styles are definitely something that blows me away.  She is one of the artists that can see art in any object they see.  She can get up close and intimate with an object and show its true beauty.

I hope you all will spend some time getting to know Ingz and her work.  Also, check out her calendars if you haven’t yet ordered your 2010 calendar.

And one final thing that I would like to share, is that several of these images have been featured on the redbubble homepage, including the very last image, The Forbidden Fruit.  I bring that image up because I deisgned that homepage that it was on.

Writing Features – Week of February 7th

Toxic – Anthea Slade

Fifteen minutes of annhilation each morning
One way transmission bombarding our minds
whilst strategically choosing the next one
to manage out.

Micro…Micro…Micro Manage
Not happy unless inflicting
intense pressure and critical poison on the staff
with the aim to destroy and drive out.

Time is an assassin
Health issues pandemic
Insomnia, Anxiety and Depression
Rising blood pressure
Pending heart attack
as they turn the knife of abuse.

Emergency of the soul as it starts to collapse
Red light as the character continues to corrode
Squash down, destroy staff
Sell and con up to upper management.

Distant management that does not show face
as the manager is given carte blanche to kill their underlings
by severe pressure.
Staff poised ready for the onslaught
Who will they slaughter next?

Narcissism at its most impure
the manager looks only at their own reflection
I am a good manager and if
you don’t like it you can leave?

They remain unchecked as they manipulate
the upper management to believe
the staff are corrupt and have turned against them…
as staff march out the door each month?

Staff leave quickly just to escape the environment
Unemployment rises
Recession intensifies
We are urged to empower clients
but at the same time staff
are being abused by management.

Given more than is humanly possible to do
they set us up for high anxiety and
emotional breakdown
that leads to mental failure.

Decay of character in
the new work place
Post Modern dilemma
as rashes form on our faces
calluses form on our hearts.

Autocratic…dogmatic rule
Who gave them permission to
destroy peoples lives as
the hammer falls and falters on our heads?

Blood yellow Face black
Conquer and divide the staff
by favouring one staff over the others
Not giving credit to those who are deserving
Rewarding the favourites
Creating internal competition
Making the staff feel uneasy and
insecure trying to devastate inner peace.
The manager’s actions alone trigger all kinds of
passive resistance.

High attrition and absenteeism is not a sign of bad staff
but is instead an indication of the
ineptitude of management.
Still the reasons for leaving remain uninvestigated.

Their hostile actions make
hypocrites of what they preach
As they do not practice
a win win win mentality
instead they destroy destroy destroy
No compassion is demonstrated.
Insensitivity is rampant.

Makes our blood boil
blood pressure rise
we are a time bomb ticking
and only financial vulnerability
keeps us soldiering on.

Time is thief
Life is a betrayer
Passive resistance is the only protection
as the staff must put on the armour of war
before each day they enter the door.

Only the need for survival keeps us there
As the hostile environment demands
that to survive we must disengage
Rather then submit to the murder
of our hearts and souls.

They the chosen ones
ride on the success of the hard work
of the victims they hammer
and yet no recognition is given to those
who should receive it.
The manager micro manages all because
they do not trust their staff
to get the work done.

The manager moves with reckless abandon
hammering, white anting, conquering and dividing,
the beast the corporate psychopath.
A power path destroying the fabric of business
and hence society.
Is it really true that 1 in 10 managers have
the profile of a criminal psychopath?

The cult of the criminal mind
the insidious undermining
the blatant favouritism
the shocking destruction of others
where they target and abuse
until either the person leaves
from high anxiety or complete breakdown.

Staff struggle to breathe
Trying not to drown as
they tread water in the muck of this abuse
So exhausted by the energy used to survive
they are too drained to look for work
Self esteem is eroded
beyond recognition.

Who told them it was ok to make the workplace
a War Zone?
Each word is a bullet of soul destruction where
the knife cuts the core out of our hearts.
Where they set one individual up against another.
Where muted mind try to unravel brilliant minds
Where words always have a motive and
Where nothing is what it seems
Where walking in the office the vital energy is sucked dry.

We pray to escape
We long to break free
We hope to survive and
reveal this so others do not have to be
subject to this utter abuse of the soul
Because this manager is TOXIC and this should
never have been allowed to happen.

Enough already.
Out out out dammed spot.
The destroyer needs to be destroyed
and Toxic transformed to healthy
environment where collaboration,
voice and professionalism reign supreme.
Oh yes this is my cry and this
is my dream.

Path Connected – linaji

It does not take much to stay connected
a stroke of your life seems to blend easy with mine.
vibrating essence of thoughts engage living wisdom
taking precarious moments to lunch
thereby exchanging fear for feasting pleasures.

This you have taught me. (hallelujah lyrics)

We stay connected as we serve each other
by pleasing ourselves bathing in star crunched hot springs
embedded outside the peripheral along the path
birthing connective tissues
allowing life to be the leader as we absent-mindedly (follow with heart)…
hand in hand
smiling deeply
smelling the rose petal of existence
reflecting souls terrestrial flower as our lover.

ending up where the beginning feels like rain
pounding down on a shelter of our love
we stay connected
we know we are on the path leading to


Falling – kashmirecho

She’s always been running
Racing towards a finish line
That she couldn’t see
Accident prone
She trips
Falling fast and hard
Scraping her knees
She gets up and starts again
Only to fall harder
Each time she falls again
And she keeps falling
But it doesn’t stop her
From trying to win the race

Voices Of A Sunken Slave Ship – Tenchtownrock

I can hear the voices
of those who had their tongue severed
speaking from the depths
patrolling the dark parts of the ocean
like Shadrach Meshach and Abednego
the hands of angels that fell asleep
in their misery now guide their path
keeping them safe until heaven
is ready to forgive itself for breaking their hearts
the dead voices must be preserved
their history is written on the ocean floor
with the paint from their warrior faces
that were stolen in the midnight hour.
A king was taken while he loved his bride
under an African moon that failed to warn them
his seed fell to the ground never to flourish
when chains became his jewelry of choice.
A pregnant queen snatched
from her throne whilst her blood
suckled her life from nipples
that were supposed to give him kingship
to lead a nation into ever after
he now leads in death.
Tattered sails cover the remains of a young boy
who has become a man on the ocean floor
he still plays with his bamboo toy.
A mother and daughter sit on the bottom
she is still braiding her daughter’s hair
like she was before their hearts stopped breathing
they refused to live the moment after.
I can hear their singing
a soft spiritual
that unites their voices
from Ghana to Sierra Leone
Abidjan and the Cameroons
they are dancing in their tribal wears
warriors from Senegal
with spears that were given back in death
a slave ship
coming alive with history
that once sleeps.

Calenders by Touched By Fire Members

Have you purchased your calnders for this year yet?  It’s still early in the year and I’m sure you have someplace in your office, kitchen, bathroom, formal dinning room, friends house that is still without an awesome calender.  Now is the perfect time to buy.  Holiday shipping is ridiculous and takes forever.  It’s all over with now, so you don’t have an excuse.  So why not check out some of these awesome calenders below???  A couple of which are to benefit Haiti.

Touched By Fire Featured Writing – Week of January 17th

And finally the writing features for this week.

Her Enemy – MommaKluyt

The silence is deafening
Can she hear me?

Why do you come for her?
To paralyze her soul with thoughts…
With things she doesnt want to see
The dark corners of her imagination
You left her choking in fear

Your sick game, so easily played in her brittle mind
Dont take this girl, my fragile doll
She doesnt belong in pieces
Leave her here, her heart I need to mend
That day I cannot wait, when you come for me instead…

Virgin Name – Siki Dlanga

he said my name
what was in that
that made me pause
as though
he were the first
to ever say it
when he said it
i heard it
as though it
had never been uttered
since he

The Value Of Your Own Worth – Shoaib

I thought she was a perfect match
So striking the way she lit up my face that fast
The spark was brilliant, but the flame didn’t last
Nights out drinking turned into pain and wrath
And each injury sustained was simply bandaged and wrapped
Not even healing before the next lashing overlapped
Till finally one day my bones gave out and smashed
I wondered if I would ever be the same after that
Looking at the pain from the gash
I felt my burnt hands would never be able to maintain in their grasp
An endless love that would stay lit instead of burning out and blaming a draft
I realized that I was looking for a match that would last
To feed an addiction that spread like a cancerous path
Because I felt like I was just a cigarette and only worthy of the ash
Not realizing that I am candle and am made out of wax
So instead of choking, that’s when I let out a gasp
And promised to give myself much more than that
What hurts the most is knowing I had stabbed my own back
But when you don’t know the value of your own worth you search for something that’s lack
And you will do anything to just keep what you might have had in tact

Candles are meant to shine light into lives not be discarded in the trash
So I lived for a while on my own because in order to heal you must cast
And when I took it off I realized that what I was missing was a simple fact
A lesson that only comes when we see ourselves outside of our box and our pack

We often mistake a quick fix and brilliant flash for love until it burns us and our lungs turn black
But true love is like a wick that melts with you and remains inside your heart as long as you last

Heart of Ice – MagpieMagic

Crystal heart of the frozen wastes
tempered by the vagaries of never-winter
moored in flakes of ice white beauty

where the sweet song of birds
and the fragrant scent of blossom
never follow the cold North Wind

where floral beauties
are carved by Jack Frost
into the brittle skin itself.

Crystal heart of the frozen wastes
tempered by the vagaries of never-winter
moored in flakes of ice white beauty

where treasures are hidden
in plain sight for all to see
obscured by mist and fog

where ravages of time
have left their mark
in secret runes upon the frost.

Crystal heart of the frozen wastes
tempered by the vagaries of never-winter
moored in flakes of ice white beauty

where memories are frozen
and beauty leaves you shivering
no shelter and no respite

where no one goes
and no one stays
unless the choice is none.

Rest – Siki Dlanga

hands that formed me
please embrace my face tightly
wash me with kindness

Osmosis of Love – ArcadiaTempest

A barrow of monkeys danced
Cheeky grins enticing
to smell the cheery blossom

A flying clock lands on a well made bed
hours have pleated a healing quilt
just a few minute threads to be sewn

A petard left by the grief gargoyle
rolls into the dug out of yesterdays
No casualties for the count
safe in the meadow of new buds

Fear stung into submission by fire ants
New skin forming in the fire light of now

Hair is tussled by a playful wind sprite
tangles or not
there is
laughter more rich than ever before
A pearl forms in the osmosis of love

Taking Photos That Mean Something – Candid

This is the second part of my two part series.  It could expand into more, I’m not sure.  But for now, I will keep it as a two part series so my mind doesn’t get discombobulated.  If you haven’t already, please check out the first part.  Hopefully, one or both can provide a little assistance or spark something for you.

When I first started in photography, I took pictures of my adventures.  I hiked a lot on the east coast of the United States and was able to capture portions of that.  I also got involved with a group of friends who liked to explore urban buildings, tunnels, caves, and other crazy things.  I became the “dude with a camera.”  Side note: I’m still friends with these guys and girls and it’s funny how as we get older we do less breaking and entering.

I started as a candid photographer.  Taking pictures of friends, landscapes, or whatever.  It was fun.  And like Forrest Gump, I’d bite into it and never know what I was going to get.  This is why on occasion I go back to these roots.  It’s pure and free to me.  I love my “studio” work.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s just as fun.  But for the most part it’s all planned.  It’s magazine.  Outside, the sky is the limit.  It’s nice to get away from that and go out and capture anything.

During the summer I went to a friends wedding.  I wanted to bring my camera along so as a present to them I could take my own pictures.  Plus I couldn’t afford that fancy new toaster they wanted.  They still had a professional photographer come to do the weddings shots.  I’m not traditional at all, so I really shouldn’t do them anyway, unless you don’t mind me getting what I want and not so much what you want.  Anyway, I did my best to stay away from the photographer and capture things he didn’t see.

I’ve found the best way to take candid shots is not to be involved at all.  Stay back and let people take notice of you, or not at all.  Notice the small things.  Open your eyes and look at everything.  Some of the most beautiful things in the world are not right out in the open.  And always keep your finger ready to take a picture, because things come and go in the blink of an eye.

And finally, try to take different perspectives.  One of my favorite things to do is shooting at the hip.  It makes people appear taller and thinner.  Find stairs or even a ladder and shoot from above if possible.

A few others tips and tricks to share:

  • Candid shots during photo shoots are usually amazing.
  • Never be afraid to try new things
  • Watch who and what you are taking a picture of.  Don’t want to make anybody angry.
  • If indoors, watch your lighting.  Natural light works best so hang out near windows.
  • Join in on conversations.  Makes those pictures extra special.

Redbubble Artist – Cerphotography

Hopefully everybody has read what the Touched By Fire group is all about on redbubble by now.  PJ wrote an awesome description of the group and what its purpose is in the first paragraph in the description that I need to share with you:

“This group is open to all genres with a focus on art that very distinctly touches peoples soul and shows a creative and unique voice that inspires and urges us to look at our world in new and exciting ways.”

My favorite part of that is, “very distinctly touches people’s soul.”  When I go through the moderation of the group I try to keep that in mind.  Not that I wouldn’t accept anything if it actually didn’t reach my soul, but I like to think of how it might touch the artists soul.  And what affect that might have on people.

Just a few days ago I came across a certain picture in my activity feed.  If any of you happen to dig through my favorites or see my work, you’ll notice I have a passion for whimsical women, crazy pictures, and romantic mumbo jumbo.  Occasionally though something really stands out and actually does take hold and grab my soul and that I fall in love with.  And that’s this:

I instantly favorited it.  And then I dug through the rest of the artists work.  And of course I was shocked by the complexity, emotion, thought, and mood of all the images.  Technically, I’m no genius with picture quality, tones, and blah blah blah.  I don’t care.  I don’t judge peoples pictures at all.  And I’m certainly not a critic.  I know what I love.

Once I made it through Cara’s (cerphotography) work, I jumped back to her profile page and was stunned to learn that she was only 18 and still in high school.  I’ve stumbled across a few young artists here that are so filled with talent that it makes me sick, in a good way of course.  And every one I’ve told the same thing.  Cara – I wish I had a quarter of the talent you have at that age.  Ok, well now, I’ve told all of them.

Please, be sure to check out Cara’s work.  She has two pictures featured this week:

She also has a handful of written works that you all may enjoy as well.  My personal favorite of her written work:

A Voice For The Innocent

I am a memory untold and me living is too bold
They say a mother naturally loves
But here the doctor puts on his gloves
It was for her own good, I am told

Perhaps if she saw me smiling at her
Perhaps she would changer her mind
Perhaps if she knew how much I would love her
Perhaps she would change her mind

But my voice is confined, not even defined
My love is declined by all of mankind
This my death wish she will not unbind

With me her life will be made uncomfortable
She never even thought of buying a cradle
She never considered that when I smile I might have her dimples

The doctor says I will not feel.
He tells this to my mother in hopes that her tears he may conceal.
But I feel.

I am scared, no mother to hold me.
I am sad, no mother to love me.
When all becomes dreary
And she feels so guilty
I ask for her love but she keeps me lonely.

My heart undeveloped breaks before it is made whole
I will never be able to look upon the face of my mother

Without a memory to keep me
Nobody fights for my justice
This indifference seems cureless

Because though I existed within the depth of my mother
Who was my fortress overtaken in battle.
She thinks she’s done nothing wrong

She opens the doors of the fortress
For death to seep through
And she thinks she is blameless
As I’m being killed
She allows this
Not loving me enough to keep me safe.
She is told this murder is harmless

She tells them to murder me so never will she have to behold me
To her I mean nothing, I’m just the nuisance in her belly
She beholds as if a leach who in this world deserves no entry.

And perhaps she is right
Perhaps it is my life that doesn’t matter
And though I never looked upon her I already love her
And though she has done this I forgive her

But should I forgive her?
And is this right?

To kill me which is innocence
To keep her life

The doctor sticks the tube into the cervix
and sucks away my life.
I’m the victim that was not reckoned as ever being alive.