childhood experiance

could be good or bad
1 entry per person
can be long or short
has to be true about you
has to be a poem by you obviously NO COPYING

good luck

Raped
Ran over
Beaten
Thrown around
Many family deaths

After awhile her family was a ticking time bomb
It scared her
Anytime
Any second
He mom or dad can beat her
Talking about her dead brother
It kills her
People talk about the good times
to her she can only remember
when he pushed her into the stairs
threw her across the room
into the wall
because he was mad at her
for what ever reason

Good times good times
Funny words
She cant remember any "good times"
She can only remember the deaths
Deaths of everyone close to her
Then she sat back and watched as her family slowly broke apart
Sad really but yet its still "good times"

Three times
Not one
Not two
But three
Ran over three times
How can someone hit an innocent child
With a car
Not one
Not two
But three times
Memory loss is the effect of it
But no matter what
She cant shake the memories

Beaten
raped
ran over
thrown around
deaths

For Marius

hair lit with moon beams
eyes sparkling like stars
sweet smile, full lips
framing small white teeth
all of three years old

we played at our  porch
when the sun went down
and parents sat and talked
about the hunt
or fish caught that day

we ran round and round
the bushes of flowers
as the cicadas drone on
we played tag, hide and seek
until my mother called me in
to bed

then Marius would fade away
into the moonlit night
into nothing but a whisper
that hug me to sleep
until the next night
he would come again

appearing on the porch
or in my bedroom
we would talk until I slept
but he was always there
my Marius

On All Souls Day
his parents would visit him
at the cross planted on the ground
and he would smile at me
from across the garden
I often wondered why
they looked down and sob
instead of looking up and smile

the years went by
and Marius came by
all grown just as I was
one last look from outside
my window
and he faded away
never to return

(Marius died when he was about three years old.)

They used to do nasty things.

I was a little kid,
Looking at other kids.

They used to do nasty things.

But i did not enjoin them.

Take a pee in here it will look like we are making oil.

And i was already looking at a vagina.

They were my sisters,
So i did think.

Yes I do admit i had some self emprovement with them,
But nothing more.

Meanwhile they were dreaming and tring to do something with me.

Why do i say now,
Girls have no secrets with me,

Beucase i know what their mind told them,
And i know how to make them happy doing what i want them to do.

Here is a link to my memoir "The Ghost Stone" about an encounter I had with the supernatural when I was a child. It is way too big to post here in its' entirety, so that is why the need for the link. Hope everyone finds it interesting! ...

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/38378-the-ghost-stone/

I'll be back.

I was going to write a poem then i find there is already one, and i  cannot remember about it, ****ing ambien.

Under the pine.
Don't touch there that's mine.
Don't touch there that's mine.
Where the sun don't shine.
Where I tell the son don't touch there that's mine.
Just give me a sign it will all be fine.
I know you crossed the line.
Under the pine.
Don't touch there that's mine.
Don't touch there that's mine.

Molested:

When I was young, probably 6 or so, I was molested
Taken advantage of by a man who was young, but I don't remember his age.
He was a friend of my brother and I, and one day asked me to come to his house
Riding our bikes, it was a couple blocks down.

This young man invited me into his house
His parents weren't home and he told my brother to wait outside.
I remember a puzzle being put together and a large couch
He sat me on his lap, and sung me a song.
At this point I was worried... let me go...

So he stood up, and undid his pants
Pulled my head forward and told me to suck.
Eventually my Dad came along, and I was in big trouble.
That is all I have to say about that.

When the Old Hag Rides  
~ Lessons from the Gullah Isles ~
 
Thrice in twelve measures    
succubus has defiled and mortified me    
Perched on my ebony planks  
I sit beside her this dawn as a gargoyle surveying that which is me  
 
I try to look up but cannot see the demon and myself nestled on my shoulder    
Only hear what is to become of my discarded marrow for the carrion feeders  
   
A pact is made    

Muted murderous wails for the Messiah's mercy resonate within my head    
But I have no voice in the matter    
 
My heart thunders as if to sink me further into this abyss  
Leaden limps are water logged with desperate sweat  
 
Is this Jordan's crossing in the sunrise?  
 
Arch angels don't sing to announce my coming    
Just my own terror    
I can smell my fear    
I pass out within suffocated screams  
 
I wake again to my grandmother's kitchen offerings  
Warm buttery Grits  
Fat succulent Bacon  
Strong Black Coffee  
Cornbread  
 
The sheets now soaked and stained as I rise    
 
I greet her as I was taught  
And tell her    
"The old hag rode me and this time I thought ..."  
 
She places her pecan brown gnarled fingers over my lips and reads from her book,  
 
In the morning they rose early and exchanged oaths. And Isaac sent them on their way, and they departed from him in peace. Genesis 26:31  
 
I bathe then eat, and    
 
As I  change the linen, I know the she demon will come again in this life  
And the price I will pay for my sins will tip the scales of my    
Sanity  
Humanity  
And dignity    
 
As it did with my Father    

My innocent nuisance

Was collecting the small penny ,
in my piggy bank ,
when I was a kid ,
that habit survives me fit .

And on one day ,
when the bank broke down ,
my savings ,little savings ,
dispersed with huge sounds .

Tears flowed from my tiny eyes ,
my hands picked them all as nice ,
but my father snatched that all ,
by saying that I created a nuisance in hall.

A child that was never wanted

A mistake that never should have happened, a child that was never wanted.
Used as a punching bag, whenever the mother wasn't around.
Bruises easily hiden under clothes that are provide.
A marriage that would soon end, a battle that would begin.
Children used as weapons through custody battles that seemed to never end.
From an abusive man to a young boy this mother would choose him over you a child that was never wanted.

Into the system you go bouncing from home to home. Don't bother making friends you will be gone soon anyways.
Raped by those who are supposed to protect you, shuffled around because no one believes you.
A child who was never wanted.

Back with a so called family blood is the only thing that ties you together.
Looking for some guidance you're  shuned made to work harder.
Looking for love and affection, finding it in all the wrong places.
A child who was never wanted.

In him you thought you found a man to give you a home, turned out to be a boy that would betray your loyalties. Leaving you abandoned and alone with a child to raise by your self, this cycle you swear to break this child you will raise.

Later down the line everyone one thinks you're fine, a wall you have built keeping all others out. A true man will come along but it's to late you are to far gone. Damaged goods for sure you try to scare him off.

The cycle now beings a marriage that will end, two children caught in the middle of yet another battle. You try to walk away with what is left of your pride but that to you will lose because everything gets taken from you.
A child that was never wanted.

Somehow you manage to keep on, trying to stay strong, the voices in your head making you wish you were dead, still every attempt you try you cannot die, there is no room in heaven for a child who was never wanted.

First Choice

Voices loud
Anger heard
Parents fighting
Again
I leave my bedroom
Go to the kitchen
My dad's leaving
I want to be with him
How can I leave her?
I can't
I stay
I'm four years old

Before I Knew Better

Where do Dreams begin  
And Memory end?
Has it got to do with Time
State of mind
Natural development
Affected by environment?
 
Jumpin like a bean
On mommy’s bed
among the earliest  
Memories I have
This is pre-school
under Grany's Care
I distinctly remember
Prescience in mid-air
 
I visualized
At such an early age
That I could jump up
Fly down the hall
Into the living room
And back again
Before my tiny feet
Landed on bed frame
 
I visualized this  
Again and again
In my memory
Its firmly ingrained
That I flew that route
On the wings of Brain
Closest friends listen  
Polite as I explain
But they can barely hide  
suspicions I’m insane
 
Yet Scientists Insist
Human Minds access
The smallest percentage
Of their actual Promise
On this basis I choose
My memory true
before I knew better
I genuinely flew

keep it close to the chest

i wasn't gonna write about
that day in the back of the van
with the windows with newspapers on em
that i tried to black out
but father mahaney's hands were so soft
and the front page of the ny times
i recently wrapped around my mother's head
has it all coming back