...
I was in a flower garden where they
watched people fuck me
time and time again
it was only sex without contradicting terms to vein the path
back to when we became american
for the life of me I couldn't tell if harsh light on
the sequin panties was altogether personal
or just a means to cauterize the eyes from seeing
the horse-like man who trampled me
held in the mechanical procreation of commercial death
I try my best to remain in polka gear
boots laced with twelve inch heels eroded from
the damp obese pavement
lions approach for my ass
torn beneath the broadway sun
but by the end I find myself always mid-jump
from the smudged body
from the icy wind across stagnant thighs
that could not stave them off
I was bulletproof only in dreams
all the little deaths scared me
like when I found myself with roaches in my hair
and nights of porcelain teacups
clattered to the floor
whiskey and drugs stuck on my soul like tired lifelines
that no longer gave me strength
you turn to face the night
like another downtown slut wrapped in a shawl
nipples like bottle caps
but you do not lash out or take my clean body as a discount
minutes between us like unspent hard thrusts
I wish sometimes age would return
to these emaciated appendages
that I might feel both legs through the numbing cold
or at least wash sand from my bones on the islands of fiji
this erection in the mud of alabama
never had the chance to keep the rubber steady
I dreamt of aids in my entrails
eating through my heart and mind
I was raped in many fashions
yet it was like a good kick in the face and
it proved I was alive
time escapes from a strangers laugh stiffened
against my own battered navel
against the lubrication of casual defeatism
scattering images along the coast
I place the bleak sky on a radical skin
one that finds comfort in a seizure
here on a naked day where apples fall and rot
you become so holy-crossed and cruel
big mouth with a huge dead penis caught
behind your rotten teeth
...
Author notes
this was painful. a lot of memories.
some I'd rather not relive, thus I will force myself
to write about it, even if it kills me. I don't do fear.
never have been able to step down. originally for a contest,
but I honestly don't like contests that much. so it is posted
as it should be- outside of itself for those who understand
the finality of life.
;
In a list
A contest entry
- personal by Melissa Gayle.
800 points, ended July 24, 21 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
all critical advice is warranted.
Comments
1 - 65 of 65
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WOW!!! I can almost feel the pain while reading this one. I really like this part...
here on a naked day where apples fall and rot
you become so holy-crossed and cruel
big mouth with a huge dead penis caught
behind your teeth...
ALOT of anger in that!!! I would hate for you to get mad at me...This was really good!!!
BIG hugs...~Stacey~
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My favorite part as well.
I don't get angry often, but when I do, "hell hath
no fury like my scorn"....
I see you are in
a commenting mood this evening...Or whatever time
zone you are in. I very much appreciated you
reading my work Stacey.
Again, thank you.
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The Gladiator
That is what I would have named it.
Punch back for ills is a persons right.
To avoid fights the poets might.
Hit back fools in poetic tights
laugh and enjoy;
Then I am Bright.
Congrats
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"the gladiator" huh?, why thank you very much.
Your rhymes are quite good. You are even a poet
in general conversations. What a gift. Thanks again!
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face against ground
cheek shaping dirt
sense sharp or gone
to hear epiphanies succumb
instill abuse
still life the numb
nimbus of dumb halo
hollow appeal
the strife - that does not kill
turns strength in brimstone paradise
dissociate the body
into less soul and mind
a hive for spirit...
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Your words are so, gifted.
Thank you for the reading of my work
and for being so creative when
you speak.
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There is no critical advice to give, I think this alone shows the strength of your soul. You are stronger than you believed, perhaps even more than you still believe.
It makes me remember things that I don't want to, it speaks on levels far deeper than many will even know.
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Yes, my strength has always been myself. I guess what I feel most of the time, leaves me a lot of poetry to work with. This is one of those poems that bit the head off my soul. I bleed out when I reread what I posted, but I think that pain is necessary, to feel, to know and to become. Thank you love. Your words effected me deeply. I'm in a personal mood again so I can feel each thing you say. Thank you for being my friend.
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soft acetone
I love the edge, the profanity, the images
"tired lifelines that no longer give me strength"
I think I've felt exactly the same way about southern comfort.
"against my own battered navel" Brilliant.
and the quintessential last stanza - marvelous,
what made you feel this way? (oh, I found the AN)
Quite quite good my friend mi clavicle es su clavicle, if you know what I mean.
Have a clappington
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Well, a lot of things made me feel this way.
I found myself lost for quite awhile in the past, sometimes it still creeps up on me. I made a lot of poor choices as well, my bones ache when I think about things, but I guess that is the blessing and the curse of the poet. I'm not entirely sure what that meant...LOL. I don't speak much more than english, but I'm sure it was thoughtful. Thanks a lot for stopping by.
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I think I know about the curse of the poet lol. At least poets like us, because
I [think] we're alike.
"My clavicle is your clavicle" XD
Just being silly, and a little earnest.
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Yes, we certainly are. Thinking all the time, always trying to find semblance in the little things, in the little moments. I like that clavicle line. I thought it was something like that as I noticed the word clavicle in there. You can be earnest. I know I am sometimes.
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Whatever we all say about poetry there is still that act of catharsis, or maybe even less than true catharsis. There are those things that need to be let go and put out there.
I could feel how hard this was.
I may have more to say. I may not.
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I agree. We need to let go and write.
If just to save ourselves. You don't have to say more.
When you do, I smile like a huge flying disk.
Thank you Jan, very much.
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I'm not sure what to say about this at all. I know this hurts because I know this and how it feels, and wow for you to write it all out must have just been the most painful thing to do, but you did this spectacularly. I just keep reading and reading it again, just really amazed by it to be honest. I don't know what else to say but I think this is wonderful poem if only the content wasn't so horrific. Take care.
<33
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I always try to be honest. It's what I do, or at least, try to do. You don't have to say much of anything. As long as you read and it effected you in some way, that is what matters. That is what makes the poetry feel, worth it here on this website. Thank you for leaving your thoughts. I appreciate it very much.
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'I was bulletproof only in dreams' sigh.
This one is hard. Hard hard hard.. as we have to be when facing such things. To be soft (oh please know I"m not punning, I promise) is to allow them into the places where they can really hurt us.
Shut down
shut off
turn away
open your eyes
and see everything
without skin;
bones dance
the light of life
out of corners -
we convince ourselves of this
as bullets pass through soul
as soul passes through cement
as midjump we don't quite
leave the skin they desire
they take it anyway
and no becomes a somber reminder
of what can never be
of what can never be changed
of who we only see in distant memory
black and white photos of pain
that we stash away in cedar trunks
until they are auctioned off
because why pay the bill?
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I know that your words are always honest. I would never think them otherwise. I think some people look for weakness so they can take advantage, it is a sad truth, but one that I am willing to accept, above other things. Your poem is so beautifully said. I feel special that you would put your thoughts here for me to read. "Because why pay the bill?"- Absolutely. Your words make me feel so much, even after such an emotional roller coaster of a poem. Thank you Suzanne. You are a wonderful friend and poet whom I value very much.
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I fell the pain and agony all through this piece. It starts out pretty strongly but reaches a crescendo at the end. It took a lot of strength to write this I'm sure but you did it very well For it's content is sickening but the write is well done. Hope all your tomorrows help to erase these bitter memories. Pen on...
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Thank you Nursey. I'm always one of those people who just won't give up. Had to fight my whole life for what I believe and I think that's made me a stronger person. Thank you so much for the comment. I appreciate that you would stop by.
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This is deeply moving, almost disturbingly so, and it speaks to me as a woman and a social worker/psychologist. The title is perfect as here is indeed a gradual "regression" from flower to fallen apple. On the brighter side though, the title also applies to the gradual gathering of strength again, the taking back of control.
Yes, I can see and feel the pain here and I applaud you for your courage to write towards the light, James; for being a victor and not stay a victim. Rape is always about the abuse of power; well, in fact, about the abuse of so much more. I can write books about this but this isn't the place. All in all this one shines - it's brilliant writing - hard and real - so many lines and metaphors here that I simply loved. This line stood out for me: "I was bulletproof only in dreams".
What I also see here is inner-strength and talent. I'm happy that you've shared this and for the way in which you did it.
~ Nicolette
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I've always been one of those people who fights to get through. A part of me just won't give up and I guess it makes for some really powerful poetry. Sometimes I feel like what I say is just too real and some might be taken aback. I think that is a risk we take when we post on the internet. I have learned a lot about myself over the years and as I get older, I start to sort out those things that went completely ignored so very long ago. Thank you for always being the light that I need behind the light. The voice that comes to my work and speaks honestly and without judgment. I value your comments so much Nicolette, and I always will.
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I'm not sure I get all the circumstances, but I definitely feel the pain in this piece. "I was bulletproof only in dreams"
ah, yes, if only...
A deeply moving poem James.
I love the way you write.
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Sometimes we just have to live each moment, to get the whole picture. I'm willing to accept that to some extent when people read me, it's a chance you take when you write. As usual Rowan, you leave me a lovely comment. Thank you.
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I was raped in many fashions
yet it was like a good kick in the face and
it proved I was alive
Ah James...the brilliance in this piece was not necessarily the excellent metaphors nor the complex vocabulary. It was neither the sharpness of memory that lent such fierceness to the words spat on paper...but rather the story of survival, of realizing that at this particular cliche is true: That which does not kill you, makes you stronger.
And you are strong in my eyes, m'precious. So strong it makes me ache to know that you were not treated as the gold you are and will always be to me.
I really can't even comment properly because this hurt to look at...
so
i'll
just
you
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"That which does not kill you, makes you stronger."
- How true. Cliché works, especially for this piece.
The words formed themselves and I felt like that was so important. That I am able to pronounce myself with all my stitches falling out and everything. You are such a sweetheart. My gold though smudged, is still beautiful. Yes it is.
Thank you love.
I appreciate that you would stop
by my poem wall.
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I read this with a furrowed brow; I felt the pain pinching my face in this. It was scalding water in my throat leaving third degree burns. But; that's what I loved about it. The stark words; the bitter phrases, the blistering memories. If this doesn't classify as personal; I'm a parakeet. You have such a strength within you....I admire that
~Meg
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This is one of those pieces that gave me stomach cramps...Going back, I still can't believe I survived a lot of the shit I've been through, and I'm only twenty five. It can be overwhelming at times, to think about stuff too much. This is one of those poems that shattered my soul again, but was necessary. Thank you Meg. I love when you read my work. A parakeet huh? Interesting choice...LOL.
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Well; I can't think of anyone else I'd rather read.
It was hard for me to read; like I said, I felt the hurt.
Yea; it was the first thing that came to mind. LOL. I don't know why; I haven't seen a parakeet in years
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You flatter me too much and my head might not be able to fit through the doorway after it inflates... 
I like parakeets, they are adorable. I had one as a kid. Maybe I'll write about him eventually, name was pete. What a little set a pipes he had.
Thanks again. Sleep time for me.
I'll certainly read some more of your poems when I get up in the morning.
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Naw James; I speak the truth. Flattery is unbecoming of me. Yea; write about him I love writing about pets; they tend to say a lot in their own language . Nite!
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love the title-starts out pretty strongly/vividly and only gets stronger/more vivid from there, slowly but surely. its like digging yourself into a hole so deep that you are buried before realizing it. my one critique is that i don't like the fiji part because it specifies something that, up until that point, was abstract enough so that the reader could take from it what they wanted in terms of their own experiences. then again, after reading the author's notes, it is YOUR story that we are reading, and its one that gruesome, and crazy, and amazing. different from what i usually read from you, to say the least
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Your critique is considered, though I kind of think it fits. I love when you stop in and leave my your thoughts. Different, you think? I try to stretch my bones when I write. I don't want to be regular. Glad you think I'm always challenging myself. You are a great reader and internet buddy. Thanks again.
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I feel this one...
it curls
up in my throat ...
where things sleep
but never truly sleep...
I will comment more....but for now I'm going to let that be enough...and this
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There is truly no need to leave me anything more, unless you want to, of course. I'm just happy that I could share a little bit of my soul for people to read. This was long overdo, posting something that made my spirit bleed. Your roses are beautiful. Thank you liza. You are a wonderful friend.
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Yes, I know, but I want to, although I may ...choose to write it As I'm long overdue as well
Thank you...so are you
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However you decide to express
yourself is fine with me. I know that
what you say comes from the heart and that
alone, makes me happy. I love your bird
picture on your comments. It's yours?
Beautiful choice.
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Yes, it's mine and I know the same of you ..
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sometimes this is what is needed, I know from things in my past that pieces like this aren't written...you are just along for the ride.
poetic justice is hard to come by friend
but I think you made it to the other side
thanks for sharing the road that goes on forever
peace and hugs
Muddy
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Yes, it is best sometimes to just go with it. Live it. No matter what. I think the other side looks a lot different, but yes, I hope that it will always stay more welcoming. Your comments are always wonderful muddy. Thank you.
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i've been looking forward to something from you.
i'll be back... -
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Hopefully it was worth the wait.
Thank you. Hope you return soon.
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There is nothing at all that I can say -
you are a strong man, with an amazingly beautiful soul.
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Sometimes that is how it goes,
nothing needs to be said.
You know I love you melissa when
you stop by. Even your little
comments cheer me up.
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you are an amazing person & not there any more.
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Thank you sweets,
very much.
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Sounds like a living memory that has not healed all that well, maybe not that long ago either. It made me ache for you and angry for ignorant fools and belligerent populations who begrudge a person a life that maybe different. What is different? I don't get that at all lol It is in my opinion raw, powerful and cathartic to yourself in writing it all down, but we never wipe it away even if it was paper we burn. I think you're amazing. Love, Chez
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I'm one of those people who dwells on things too much.
I should find a more uplifting way to spend my time.
That's the writers curse for ya, always thinking. Always
in the moment. Different is what we perceive. But some try to make it their personal vendetta to make everyone like them, which is not how it should be. I try to remember that when I am looking on a persons character. Yes, we can never change the past. It is a constant reminder. Thank you though for your lovely consideration into my piece. I need to take some tylenol now though, as this was all very painful for me. You're amazing as well.
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Wow! I'm sorry that you have been thinking about all the shit that has happened in your past recently... this kind of stuff is never good to dwell on of course, I wonder what sparked the memories to come back? I just want to give you a big hug and hold you for hours and hours and whisper in your ear that I love you. At least it does serve for very strong writing material. You are very brave to post something this personal on here. We'll talk about this tonight when I call you. I love you.
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Well thank you hun.
I've kind of been in that frame of mind lately.
Dwelling on shit...it's not healthy I know, but important still I think, at least for me. It does serve for strong writing I suppose, which is nice. Just wish it was about some other things in my life. Other moments. The next time I post I will try not to put a metaphoric bullet between my eyes. Thank you lover. I'm not sure if I'm brave or foolish. Hopefully people will understand from this expression that you can survive anything. Trust me, I know this. Yes, we'll talk more tonight.
I love you lots!
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was this for my contest?
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It was originally for your contest, but I decided against it. Just didn't seem right there. Things have to feel right for contests, if that makes any sense. I don't just want to post anything. Some of it also was going towards red's contest, but heh, another decision change at the last moment. What can I say, I always do a reverse mind at the last minute. Are you feeling better from yesterday? I'm not.
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nope. not at all. i'll be back to comment this.
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Well we can chat about it whenever you'd like.
I'm always willing to listen.
Thanks for returning, when you do.
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This makes me angry, to be honest, because you're such a bloody beautiful person and I want to kick people who don't treat you as such (well, kick is not a strong enough word, but it will do for here)
I hope these are memories from long ago and that writing them gives some closure.
On a critical note, this is fabulous.....confronting.
I think you're brilliant and lovely, so there.
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My childhood, the one that I had at least, was mostly ruined by drugs and alcohol, bad personal choices, I was raped (yes, men can be raped, several times actually), once by a parental figure I trusted. A lot has happened, but I think it has made me a stronger person, through it all. This does give me some closure. But not enough. I'm sure more poetry like this will come out of me in the future. Thank you for reading it. Very confronting, I agree. Poetry should be though, sometimes.
You are a sweetheart.
Thank you.
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Some people are bastards and some people are lovely, and lovely people turn experiences with bastards into things that make them stronger.
Yes, confronting is good. Especially in poetry.
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I agree. Which is why I write...To get out a lot of things that would otherwise go uncharted. I have never understood how some people can be so cruel. I think many people honestly don't deserve the life they were given. I know that sounds harsh, but I believe it. I try to make time for memories, each day. Though sometimes it is hard to smile over all of them. Thank you again love.
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Welcome.
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I do not understand it fully, which I (again) don't think I will because it is personal, but I can feel all the emotion put into this.
Writing is a good way to make fears seem... different? so that they don't feel as bad. Does that make sense?
Loved it.
~Cassie
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Very personal. There is no shame in admitting you can not grasp it...You'd have to survive it I guess, to understand. Yes, I write to get these things out. It would kill me otherwise.
Thank you Cassie. I love when you stop in and
leave me your comments.
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And I always enjoy leaving comments.
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