Saturday, June 23, 2012

~When Depression Climbs up the Wall~

Down and under
Below black skies
Heavy clouds follow
As though with legs
Clomping the air road
Striving to escape as always try
Down and under
Rain water burns
Down and under
Where light is gloomed
Each step forward
Is found to go backward
Exhale a heavy cry
Who’s there to hear
the voice echoing
The woods to sink down deeper
Down and under
Shoulders shrug down
Sleepy eyes unable to open
Within the four walls
Darkness is glorified
Light becomes the intimate enemy
Sweet taste commands the stomach walls
Marriage is made with the fluffy blanket
Down and under
Does not rhyme with shine
Snow cascade from skies to heart
Unable to reason or to smile
Tearful eyes relieve pain
Feelings of worthless invade soul
Suicidal thoughts take over Grim’s weapon
Deep feet under makes the last move

Note from Author:
Depression is a serious disease. Allow yourself to see the symptoms and be proactive
© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Thursday, June 21, 2012

~*This Old House*~

As clear as bright day light, so I remember it all
This old house stood next to the candelabra cactus tree
Always felt a cold draft brushed against my skin
Each moment I came close, or just took a glance at it
I could hear my bones rattle with fear

At the front porch, always seated this elderly woman
Very Stern look on her face and wrinkled double chin
She squinted at every pedestrian enough to make them fearful
Or seen this black furry cat with small red eyes
Such a starry fixation reminded me the look of the gremlins

That same wrinkled elderly lady stood aside by the cactus bushes

Amused herself particularly, in the late afternoon
Starred at me! Horrific! My blood steamed, terrified!
Could she be fed through my energy at that instant? Don't know!
I buried my face in Grand Mama's skirt safe I felt

When night fell, I could as though see the cactus tree changed

Perhaps unto monstrous creatures, stood still, but really frightened
Couldn't help not to look- my window was right at its angle
With my tiny tremor hands, I closed the drape, scared stiff I felt
Or preferably said, it might as well then a curiosity of my eyes

And the many chameleons spotted on the gabbles

I couldn't explain them all! Really, truly weird
They swelled up their necks, like ready to devour
Nonetheless, never once witnessed a scant of any harm they caused
But they did not look too safe.

When the lights all went out, I wrapped in the sheet like a mummy

If by any chance I heard a squishy noise. I Trembled like hell without a quake
Sometimes as well, felt lying in a pool of water. From all the sweat I drained of fear
Not enough, I lived these tortures in the early term
But it seems at times, this old house, and its contents continue to haunt my dreams.

© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

My archived friend

I have neither gold nor silver to give you
Neither one would serve your purpose
I'm happy to be part of you.
I have no title or a background of the well known
You accept me, as I am
In fact...
None of that is matter to you
When I met you I was bruised
My heart was grated from abused of the dear known
With your helped, I sustained my burdens
And I jotted down, all that bothered me on the inside.
Then when I trusted in my faux friends with secrets of the deepen treasures
They turned around and spread them like world glorified
My inside feels so worthless for having trusted such untrustworthy foes.
But what else can be done I'm not the kind that harboring grudges.
So to you I turn, within the pages my words are archive
They heal my worries each time I read back at them
They are as safe as angels above seven skies
And sable below deep blue sea
For I have neither gold nor silver to give you
But you turn around and give me peace
My relationship with you will remain always
As long there's pen around for me to cast my thoughts.

`~The lyric of Fiona~`

As daylight appears above the earth's horizon
My thoughts begin with this perpetual race
In which my inner voice always steps in to the rescue
On the pretense of reassurance,
Whisper the very same tone and lyric

"Here's cheers to your pain"
"Here's cheers to your sorrow"
"As it happens long and gone"
"The damage has already done"
"time to let go, something meant not grow"

These words usually carry me through for sometime.
They are constructive and wholesome
They are used as a basis for relating values to my issues
They are used as principles to keep me grounded
They are supposedly therapeutic words, useful while they last

But how long can I dwell on this trend of words?
When each day, all I can see is the same old face
The same mask that haunt me down
The same scenario with a repetitive play in my eyes
His sound of voice echoing in my head
Fiona, Fiona, Fiona...
His breathe, heavily on my face
Frankly, words are not enough to heal my pain
This carve in my wrist is done as in a cry for help
A sign of psychological disturbance.
But how can I receive proper help?
When all along, I've been plastering the truth
I've been ashamed to say that I was raped
Yeah, I finally say it!
I busted out the pain
I was raped...
By an unknown core
The evil man, who constantly disturbing my sleep
I find myself in the circle of rape trauma syndrome.
Now my inner voice whispers a different tone and lyric >>

"Here's cheers to your strength"
"Here's cheers for breaking the silence"
"Here's cheers for coming out of the isolation"
"Here's cheers for taking the step toward your healing journey"
© 2012 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved
Note from author: To all rape survivors, While there's no way to change what happened to you, but you can at least speak up. Don't fear reprisal and feel ashamed, please take action!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

The silent king

For I have no place in this world

I am of what is said

My father in flesh

The past is gone,

and what's done is done-

shall remain unchanged

Hamlet is worn for different causes

For I worn mine to-

recreate the facade of the world

For all silent hearts to speak out loud

For hunger to cease

For what is cloudy to be transparent

My blood stained on the cross

For you to be at free will-

For you to have everlasting life

I accomplished my perfect task,

and for you to cherish

My sword and shield,

shall be for your protection

from all evil course,

and when the roads are unpaved and bumpy

I am the silent king

My chariot shall carry you through

For there is no calamity

without a redeeming grace.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Humanity Cries Woe - Non-Fiction Poetry - destruction, world, reality

Gazing upon the rocky grey mountain peaks. Abruptly, particle of rocks avalanche break away. Rush down the surface of the mountain, and shake the ground into bitter disaster- It seems like darkness holds the world hostage Rush down the surface of the mountain. Like a cat sinks its claws into the wall- people hang on the edge, fighting not to slide down below the cave erosion. Anatomy of fear stares in the eyes of us all. Really no room to talk, humanity is caught in the act of misdeed. Anatomy of fear stares in the eyes of us all- when we are trapped under the cloud's veil, and evil paint-balls spread all over our bodies. Should harsh reality be tossed in? What is our reasons and alibis? Humanity cries for help and attention. What is our reasons and alibis? We are of different races, ethnicities and creeds- love must not flourish... For you not silence- I must retaliate... For we are not in the same political comfort zone- war must declare... Humanity cries for help and attention. Who to blame and who should we go to for repair? It's to keepsake, and can't be left in this lucrative scene. We should collaborate, and make amend, but when? Humanity cries- look at me, notice me and stare at me! © 2012 by _Patricia Etienne All rights reserved

Gone With Her - Non-Fiction Poetry - myself, identity, self-love

Then: They bullied me, made me feel much smaller than what I really was, not knowing How to deal with pain I kept inside. Woe is me. As I cried in grief- staring at myself, laying still... As I wish the minutes would be, but twos not. After: They made me feel low. Called me ugly, and stepped on every ounce of confidence I had stored. Like thieving pirates searching for my sacred treasure, they found my self-esteem and took from me. The priest said a prayer and placed me to rest. My friends and family all shed their tears. Now: I did it! I dealt with her. Her blood falls on my hands, but a problem she is to me no more. They teased and bothered both her and me so much, that I came to a point where I killed myself. I have committed suicide! The greatest act I have ever done. I killed her low self-esteem, her below zero confidence, and her tradition of crying, But I live. Proud of myself! And of who I am. No longer obliged to the comments they make of me, or the opinions they have. For I have committed suicide to her. Note From author: This piece of writing is dedicated to those of you- who have survived being bullied, who have been teased, who have accepted their selves for who they are, and learned to get rid of their low self esteem. So Please keep on fighting! © 2011 by _Patricia Etienne All rights reserved