Ravyn's Writings - 1997

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Ravyn's Writings - 1997

Post by LJAmara » Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:47 pm

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time
isn't that how they are supposed to start?
Fairy tales and nursery rhymes
stories for children
but what about the real life fairy tales?
Where the evil forces strive to take command
control your mind, decimate your body
through your own need, uncontrollable urges
tormenting yourself emotionally and physically
use the one to keep the other at bay
after all, what hurts worse?
The small pain of a cigarette burn?
Or the huge gnawing rat of the emotional anguish
piled layer upon layer, time after time
day after day, year after year
and then locked away inside your mind
contaminating your soul?
But the rat is never really locked away
he gnaws his way out
runs freely through the dark avenues
of your most secret thoughts
unleashes memories thought to have been shut up tight
in small hermetically sealed compartments
never to be re-opened
but the rat doesn't care
he will gnaw away until
out spring old hurts and wrongs
bloated by decay
from years of stewing in their own vile sauce
demonic recipes to bring you back to
the small quivering helpless child within.
Terror is no stranger to the child
she has lived in a state of constant fear
since she was begotten years ago
on a hot summer's night
by a man that was supposed to protect
but instead he violated,
crushed hope and turned
dreams into nightmares
and taught the beauty of cold, sharp steel
but when you try to release the child with the blade
he stops you for reasons of his own
selfish and brutal reasons they may indeed be
but you can escape from his death grip
become more than he sees you to be
live life to its fullest
hide the child
put up a brave front
people will talk of you saying
'she is such a strong woman
I wish I were as strong as she is'
and you think to yourself late at night
as the rat gnaws at the sealed compartments
that you wish you were as strong
as they think you to be
that you could indeed control your own hand
as the bright glow comes nearer
mating with the flesh
in searing, yet exquisite


Am I bitter?
Oh yes ..
Have I a reason for my bitterness?
Of course ..
There are many reasons for the way I feel
And most people would crawl into a dark hole
Hide away from the things I have seen
The things I have endured
They tried to take away my sanity
Tried to take away my sense of self
Tried to take away my dignity
And my capacity for love
At the end I knew they would try to take away
My very life, if I let them
And God damn me I would have let them
I was so far gone that nothing mattered anymore
Until that day when I learned about you
And that changed everything
You are my salvation, little one
You saved me from the torment
From the lunacy and the depravity
And even though that is where you came from
I love you still with all my heart
You see, I have found my dignity again
My sanity may slip in and out
But it is still here, mostly, I think
After three years of freedom am I still bitter?
Oh yes ..
Have I still a reason for my bitterness?
Of course ..


watching the clock
willing the hands to move
intense and overwhelming
sifts through my soul
hot searing and bloody
consumes my being and leaves
absence of substance
wishing for any kind of
tears that won't fall
heart and mind, body and soul
without pain, without pleasure
i am my own worst
self destruction, mutilation
creating the wounds and leaving them


I know there is a world out there
Other than the one I have been made to see
A world of light
A world of hope
A world of happiness
But my world is restricted
To the confines of these four walls
Of my own fear maddened mind
Forever detached

Falling Down

I've lost it all
and it's hard to get it back.
Once you start to fall
there is really nothing to grab hold of
and you continue down.
It's a long way to the bottom
and it hurts when you hit
but you really don't notice
because by then your senses are numbed
and your mind wanders off
on tangents of its own.
People like to watch you as you fall,
some will even help you on your way
to the bottom,
and once you get there
to the last stop on the line
you have three choices.
Maybe more but three main ones
that i could find:
You can wallow in your self pity
and misery for the rest of your life
or you can end it all with a gun or a knife
or you can claw your way back up
to the middle.
It isn't easy
and those who watched you falling
are the same ones who stand by
and watch you try to make the ascent
and those who helped you on your way down
will do their best to keep you there
but every now and then you may find
someone who is willing to lend a hand,
to bandage your scraped and bloody knees
and give you some small boost
to help you on your way back up.
You will probably slip back down a time or two,
most likely more than that,
and eventually you will reach the middle
the place where it all started.
From here you can choose your way
up or down, sideways
it doesn't matter because it is all up to you,
and by the way
if you happen to see someone
struggling to make it back to the middle
give them a hand
they will be forever grateful.
Trust me on this one
I know from experience.


They gather in the living room
to watch the game
cases of beer and cigars rule the day
I stay in the kitchen
making snacks and occasionally bringing
fresh bottles
dumping ashtrays.
They make crude remarks
as I leave the room
and they laugh
I hide in the bedroom until I hear them call
more beer, more pizza, more, more, more
The stench of smoke is almost overpowering
They fart and they belch
and they laugh
I want to leave, I want to run
and hide myself away
but they keep calling
bring more
God, I love you, but
I hate Sunday
It seems to go on for days
the dreadful anticipation of
the games after the game
when they move out of the living room
and gather by the bed
my heart sinks down
I lie there, knowing what is expected of me now
and all the drugs and all the alcohol
in the world
cannot take away
the shame I feel at this moment
lost again
as they play
the games after the game


If I had been a good girl when I was young
He wouldn't have had to do the things that were done
And my life would have been a happy one

If I had gone south instead of north
To L.A. or San Diego (oh hell, why not say Tijuana)
Would things have turned out any differently?

If I could gather back in all those lost years
Take out the pain and the hunger and the misery
Would I then be a better person than the one I have become?

If I had died that bloody day and gone on to what lies beyond
And not wandered my bleak and sorrowful path
Would the world be any better off? or any worse?

If I could take back just one thing
Rip it screaming and fighting out of my dark and gloomy life
I would take out the day, dad, that you went to work
And came home a week later
In a box

If Silence Is Golden

She walks in to the room
hesitantly, ready to turn and run
back the way she came.
In her mind an old expression
about being once bitten dances a hornpipe.
She checks the corners
looking for the face that is
forever lost in shadows.
Hair raises on the nape of her neck
as she senses someone behind her,
but when she turns, there is no one,
just an empty space where,
perhaps only moments ago,
someone stood, eyes gleaming,
teeth showing in a mocking grin.
Heart beating faster, she moves across the room
to the safety of her far corner.
Sits in the old, worn and torn recliner
and watches the other people,
listens to snatches of conversation,
imagines what it would be like be a part
of the mingling crowd.
She begins to say something to a passerby,
but stops, the words half formed.
She thinks to herself
'If silence is golden, I must be
wealthy beyond compare.'
Again she tries, and again, stops.
This is so hard.
She can't believe that she is reduced to
a silence that can't be broken.
She shakes her head, gets up from the chair
and walks to the door.
With a last look back at the busy room,
she steps out and lets the door close behind her.

Jenny's Star

Lonely tired and cold
terrified of the strange faces
wandering through the darkness
hiding where I can
searching for anything
Finding nothing
only more pain
too worn out to go on
too hopeless to find hope
too angry to find peace
too frightened to be safe
A star
bright as day
shines on me
guides me through the maze
of temptation and necessity
sets me on the path of hope
helps me feel safe
lends me strength
and assures me that I can find peace

Little One

She is here with me
after so many weeks
is it really true?
Is this what it feels like?
I want to feel like this forever
Her eyes so blue
and her smile, just for me
everything about her is perfect
and she is all mine
How can it be that two such imperfect people
could make anything like this
When I hold her in my arms
I am the luckiest woman ever to
breathe the air
My love, I will keep you here
I will love you always
you are mine and I am yours
I love you little one


There is a place down the road
where the men all go
to be with their friends
get loud and rowdy
and in that place are the women
of the night
and the men give them a little something
and the women give the men a little something
and they part
and it seems that when I go there
I am someone else
I am not me
I am Nadine
the men's sweet thing
my blood boils with the powder
and my heart is locked away
and no one knows how much it hurts
but then who would care anyway
it's lonely in the dark
on the streets
I could go and buy a good meal
or I could go and get the blow
and a bottle to help me forget
what I have done
so I go
bottle and sniff
sniff and snort
have another drink, baby
and let's go get funky
in the back room here in the dark
so I try to forget
and it works
for a little while
but all the while I know
I will be back again tomorrow

Number 2

Is it late or is it early?
I can't seem to see the clock
through these nicotine glazed eyes
I should just roll over and go back to sleep
but I have lost my lance
and it is hard to joust with
a number 2 eberhard faber


Cold wind
rainy night
shivering and damp
stray dog
moves down the alley
drive by
on the main streets
but I am
in the dark
trying not to breathe
‘don’t stop here
damn you!’
thoughts racing
he sees me
too late
on my neck
pushing me down
he takes
what he wants
blood running
I want to die


Anger consumes me
need for revenge overwhelms
Retribution for all that he did
To me and to others
before and after
To see his eyes gouged out
his skin flayed from his body
his genitals tenderized with a hammer
Perhaps I am being a bit cruel
It is only a fraction of
what he inflicted upon me
stealing my very essence
to be used by him and his friends
and then beaten to a bloody pulp
left lying on the floor
a quivering mass of agony
If there is justice in this world
if I can find the strength
to mete out this justice
then I will be satisfied
But to know that he still wanders freely,
supposedly protecting those he serves
but in reality using them for his own purposes,
is a worse torture than any I have endured
To see him publicly humiliated
exposed for what he is
shunned, ostracised
at the mercy of those others
that he has helped to place behind the bars
would bring relief to my festering soul


standing naked
in front of the full length mirror
as i have trained myself to do
these past two years
i hate looking
i hold my arms crossed
in front of my belly
hiding what is there
then the struggle begins
eyes closed my arms drop to my sides
i don't want to open them again
don't want to see
but that is part of the healing
so i make them open
and i look
now i make myself examine each of them
one by one
remembering when where and how
and who, always who
thighs and stomach crisscrossed
ugly ripplings glaring pink
lift each breast left then right
to expose the ones hidden there
make myself open my eyes again
pull my hair back from my forehead
trace the ugly lines down my cheek
and finally to examine
the most damaging of all
i begin to stare
into my own eyes

She Spins

The dancer spins her minuet
feet seeming to float above the floor
and the menfolk watch lustfully
their faces folded against one another
the dancer spins on unheedingly
her grace and beauty shine
like a diamond seen through
mid-day sunlight
and the men jostle for position
to get a better view
to watch the dancer spin and twist
and, perhaps, to take a turn with her
upon the great dance floor
But the dancer is oblivious to all
her eyes open, but seeing not the throng,
but something deep inside herself
and she feels not the hands of the men
upon her flame scarred flesh
nor the hot cruel kisses
nor the biting, grinding pressures
she is lost in another world
where men do not exist
where there is no such thing as
pain or rape
endlessly she spins

Time Travelling In My Mind

Memories flood in
overriding all else
Today is far away
but yesterday is now
Strange turning of the clock
backward so fast
Breathless weakness overcomes
lying on the ground
amid the dying leaves and yellowed grass
of a time long past yet so close at hand
Searching for today
amidst the wreckage of the past
Finding only the memories
resplendant in their trappings
of anguish and torment
They envelope me in their embrace
and hold me here, trapped
I ride out the storm of emotion
until today returns, slowly
and tomorrow snatches a peek
through half drawn shades

To Myself

I talk to myself
because no one else listens.
I laugh at myself
because if I didn't I would cry.
I sing to myself
off key and faltering.
No one really cares enough
to ask for the reasons why.

Windows To The Soul

Head hung low
not daring to meet the gaze of another
for to do so is to allow them to see
the pain, the anguish
the totality of despair
for the eyes truly are
the windows to the soul


I see flowers blooming in spring
I see trees swaying in the breeze
I see snow gleaming on the mountain tops
I see people walking together
I see clouds gathering on the horizon
I hear the wind blowing through the trees
I hear people talking in low voices
I hear children laughing
I hear a dog barking
I hear the thunder crash
I am alone with my pain
I am frightened for the future
I am terrified by the present
I am tortured by the past
I am confused about them all
I want a better life
I want to be free to walk out side
I want to have friends
I want love
I want my child to have a chance in life
I know I have my place
I know I am a prisoner of my own weakness
I know I can break free if I wish it
I know I can run and hide myself away
I know I can survive
I see my reflection
I hear my weeping
I am in great torment
I want this ordeal to be over
I know I must be strong

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The Fat Cat
Posts: 8419
Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Tag line: Do no harm
Location: Novato, CA

Re: Ravyn's Writings - 1997

Post by heinzs » Wed Aug 01, 2012 12:02 am

Thanks Lisa!
An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
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