Friday, February 15, 2013

Her Fathers Legacy

the girl huddled next to her school desk, covering her work quickly
uses the eraser three times, not getting it down, not understanding

--he will be there tonight -- I know you don't want to hear

write a story about menace she thought -- her task not healthy
it was hard to describe her life, her best friend not knowing

-- the fear will make you sick -- Quick turn away, leave the little girl alone

her mum not understanding, the sister she must protect, silent
hiding, waiting, running away, she huddled closer to her pen

-- trapped with him, his face will distort your memories -- Am I making you uncomfortable?

erasing more and more lines, it was the fear that got to her
but she must be strong, keep him away, while writing slowly about nothing

-- there is no escape, even if you try -- You cannot hear this, you say

and with the pen, she stopped, emotionless -- her pen down, shoulders hunched
she had nothing to write about, but rainbows and dancing in the sun

-- no one will believe you, to run you will just be returned - Well just stop reading

the menace had been that good, that precise
that even a little girl felt trapped -- when writing alone

he scared her to a point where it was easier to forget
and erase the page

the menace that is at every turn,

and leaves her chasing butterflies, in the fields

A Circle before Jail

Writing about the fairy circle is hard, she thought
It was an old tradition, passed down and down -- don't you have one?

-- a water tradition?

She would stand in the middle of her room
All painted in yellow, wearing a pretty dress, pigtales

-- perhaps a special saying?

Taking the dust from the bottle -- purple to be precise
May, I excuse you sir -- it had to be purple

-- special teddy bear -- am I reminding you?

She disappeared into her world of safety, her world of delight
Doing a fairy dust circle, sprinkling her childhood memory

-- Is was but years later

She remembered why, why the fairy dust circle was there
It was for the monsters -- for that ugly smiling one

-- Hidden in the cupboard, dark

Her fathers smile would bring her nightmares
Screams, of weird fright, illusions of the night

-- Nightmare under the covers, dare to be spoken

The circling fan, that made noises, praying
The creaks, squeals and whistles -- as she listened to his footsteps

-- Noises that go bump in the night, it was real

She would sit in her circle, protected
A childs' remedy -- a childs' delight, safe in her minds eye

-- Today in her office

Sits a circle painting, slowly she smiles
And she stares at it, softly -- as they walk into the room

Friday, February 08, 2013

It's Only Fruit

It's Only Fruit - Credits for stock at

They Killed Barbie

She sits there
And plays with
Her little barbie doll
Undresses it
And wraps it with
Christmas paper
She looks out the window

She dances her Barbie
Doll in a ballerina style
Enjoying its' twisting
And turning
Its' head backwards

She enjoys her music
As Barbie dances
Slowly to the latest
Song from the

He sits there and
Talks to the doctors
Offering help but
None to give

The attack left her
Scarred, hurt and
The men, were never caught

Statute of limitations passed

And now years later
As he remembers her smile
Her laughter
While he sits at the
Traffic light
With a Barbie
Stuck on the bonnet

Of his car.


Saturday, February 02, 2013

Who I am -- is not for your amusement

I am not your amusement child, for when you are stressed or weary of the world
I do not look sexy or cute, do not entice anything out of me, with your sexual connotations

I am but a child, sitting there watching tv
Learning about the world, all of such eight, staring out the window

Not yet grown, not understanding that there is evil out there
And evil there laying on the couch -- watching me -- waiting, planning

For when the house is empty, ready to pray on me
Decisive, practiced, many a girl before me, and many after me

So I wonder, what went through in your mind, when you decided to violate my body
When you decided, what my life should be.

     Was it that you were stressed, like you told me so many years later, when I grew up
     Or was it just that you were a man -- weak, useless and cruel