Submissions by shaunda
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Most my poetry and stories are written about my life as a child and the damage child abuse does to a child's mind.. I am no longer a keeper of secrets. I crank my rock n roll, smoke doob and write like a crazy women. Peace out..Shaunda
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
1st Oct 2012 6:01pm
1st Oct 2012 6:01pm
Dead rabbits PART ONE
I don't remember what set this next incident off with my father, I just remember it was one of the things that showed me just how much of a psyco nut he was. It was the day I became a murderer.
When I think back, I realize he was probably paying me back for winning too many of our private battles. In this, he payed me back heavily.
I was 13 and had started having really bad attitudes about a lot of things going on in my life. I no longer believed my life was worth anything.
I had already disowned both my parents and God when I was 12 and I...
When I think back, I realize he was probably paying me back for winning too many of our private battles. In this, he payed me back heavily.
I was 13 and had started having really bad attitudes about a lot of things going on in my life. I no longer believed my life was worth anything.
I had already disowned both my parents and God when I was 12 and I...
817 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
29th Sep 2012 2:30pm
29th Sep 2012 2:30pm
Pillow talk PART FOUR
If dying was the most horrifying experience of my life, then being dead had to be the most peaceful. Oh, I knew I hadn't really died, but I also knew that had I been able to stay in that unconscious state, had I been given a choice, I would never have come back. no one can hurt you in death. My horrible life would be over and no one could ever hurt me again.
Coming back from that peace was always terrifying, and made me extremely angry. Along with despair over surviving the suffications, I would have crazy thoughts running through my mind.
'Oh no, I'm still alive. God I...
Coming back from that peace was always terrifying, and made me extremely angry. Along with despair over surviving the suffications, I would have crazy thoughts running through my mind.
'Oh no, I'm still alive. God I...
825 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
28th Sep 2012 10:05pm
28th Sep 2012 10:05pm
Pillow talk PART THREE
Coming back from the dead was always a terrifying experience for me. I hated it almost as much as the dying. No, not nearly as much as the dying because at least I could breath.
I didn't care to see or hear what my father was doing to me. My head was foggy and disoriented, but I was happy for the fog. My body felt as if someone had beaten it with a bat, my throat and lungs were on fire and I'd wake with the thought 'why oh why couldn't I have stayed dead?'
Those were always my thoughts as I awoke, unmoving, as if I were dead. I was so tired I couldn't lift my arms, and if I...
I didn't care to see or hear what my father was doing to me. My head was foggy and disoriented, but I was happy for the fog. My body felt as if someone had beaten it with a bat, my throat and lungs were on fire and I'd wake with the thought 'why oh why couldn't I have stayed dead?'
Those were always my thoughts as I awoke, unmoving, as if I were dead. I was so tired I couldn't lift my arms, and if I...
751 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
28th Sep 2012 6:18pm
28th Sep 2012 6:18pm
Pillow Talk PART TWO
I remember wondering if my father could hear my heart pounding, then realized it didn't matter. I realized that nothing mattered anymore.
When you're being smothered, you can feel and hear your muffled screams on your face while you are twisting and wreathing away from the heavy weight that is holding you so tightly to death. And once again, I was in a literal dance with death.
As you slowly suffocate, you are kicking and beating with your arms and legs as hard as you can. The harder you kick, the less you can breath, until it all becomes a slow motion dance as you wind down...
When you're being smothered, you can feel and hear your muffled screams on your face while you are twisting and wreathing away from the heavy weight that is holding you so tightly to death. And once again, I was in a literal dance with death.
As you slowly suffocate, you are kicking and beating with your arms and legs as hard as you can. The harder you kick, the less you can breath, until it all becomes a slow motion dance as you wind down...
779 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
28th Sep 2012 6:05am
28th Sep 2012 6:05am
Pillow talk PART ONE
Have you ever been in an accident or so near death that at that very moment, you thought your life was over? I have.
I died by suffocation, at least that's what I thought every time my father put a pillow over my face and held it until my struggling stopped. While i struggled for breath and in the very moment before I lost consciousness, I knew that this was my time to die.
You know something? It's true that your life passes before your eyes before the blackness takes over and fills your mind. It's a terrifying way to die.
PILLOWS. Everyone uses them....
I died by suffocation, at least that's what I thought every time my father put a pillow over my face and held it until my struggling stopped. While i struggled for breath and in the very moment before I lost consciousness, I knew that this was my time to die.
You know something? It's true that your life passes before your eyes before the blackness takes over and fills your mind. It's a terrifying way to die.
PILLOWS. Everyone uses them....
764 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
26th Sep 2012 11:50pm
26th Sep 2012 11:50pm
Dancing with Death
Painkiller. You come to me in so many ways, so many daze. I laud you as seconal, alcohol, phenobarbitol, mary jane and more. So much more, that I cannot possibly remember all the names given to you by the Empty ones.
But I, I call you painkiller. Tis your divine name and rightly so. As your smoothe lies slide down through my pain, tis your warmth I feel spreading through my veins- and with it CALM.
Oh, the anticipation of all unwanted thoughts and memories gone as your warmth becomes a burning fire descending down to my soul.
Sweet painkiller, you are my only true...
But I, I call you painkiller. Tis your divine name and rightly so. As your smoothe lies slide down through my pain, tis your warmth I feel spreading through my veins- and with it CALM.
Oh, the anticipation of all unwanted thoughts and memories gone as your warmth becomes a burning fire descending down to my soul.
Sweet painkiller, you are my only true...
907 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
26th Sep 2012 5:51pm
26th Sep 2012 5:51pm
Damaged goods
Give me your pain I will put it with mine
I will save it for later in the back of my mind
Give me your tears I will keep them around
To be taken out daily and worn with a frown
Give me your fears I will put them away
For what good is fear when I die every day
Give me your hatred I will use it with care
To direct at myself when I lay my soul bare
But don't give me a kindness I could never return
Because bitterness and hatred is all I have learned
Do not give me your love for it wouldn't be safe
I've a...
I will save it for later in the back of my mind
Give me your tears I will keep them around
To be taken out daily and worn with a frown
Give me your fears I will put them away
For what good is fear when I die every day
Give me your hatred I will use it with care
To direct at myself when I lay my soul bare
But don't give me a kindness I could never return
Because bitterness and hatred is all I have learned
Do not give me your love for it wouldn't be safe
I've a...
2230 reads
14 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
25th Sep 2012 3:55pm
25th Sep 2012 3:55pm
little miss muffet
Little miss muffet
sat there and puffed it
she binged and she purged all day
then along came her daddy
who wanted her badly
so he sat on her muffin all day.
I am not trying to offend anyone with my poems, but the reality is - child abuse is extremely ugly. Those who have been thru it know just how devastatingly it affects your life.
If you think anyone is being abused or even have just an inkling that it's happening, it is your moral responsibility to try and help that child, else you become just like the mothers who close their eyes to it because it...
sat there and puffed it
she binged and she purged all day
then along came her daddy
who wanted her badly
so he sat on her muffin all day.
I am not trying to offend anyone with my poems, but the reality is - child abuse is extremely ugly. Those who have been thru it know just how devastatingly it affects your life.
If you think anyone is being abused or even have just an inkling that it's happening, it is your moral responsibility to try and help that child, else you become just like the mothers who close their eyes to it because it...
1433 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Sep 2012 00:09am
25th Sep 2012 00:09am
Dream of Fools
If dreams came true and I could fly
I would spread my wings and catch the sky
I would soar on winds clouds I'd caress
I would leave behind unhappiness
I would fly above the eagles nest then higher I would go
To clothe myself in moonbeams dress and shed my sorrow so
If I had wings to set me free Nere again would I touch the ground
I would float atop a soft windsong and I never would be found
If dreams came true I would never wake
to a world so filled with pain
I would chase away the thunder clouds
And with happiness...
I would spread my wings and catch the sky
I would soar on winds clouds I'd caress
I would leave behind unhappiness
I would fly above the eagles nest then higher I would go
To clothe myself in moonbeams dress and shed my sorrow so
If I had wings to set me free Nere again would I touch the ground
I would float atop a soft windsong and I never would be found
If dreams came true I would never wake
to a world so filled with pain
I would chase away the thunder clouds
And with happiness...
940 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
24th Sep 2012 11:13pm
24th Sep 2012 11:13pm
No rabbit for me please
True Story
I had a little bunny - and honey was her name
She was so cute and funny - till I clubbed her in the brain
So sad I had to eat her - but I'm really not to blame
Was the doings of my daddy - and his sickly little games
I cut her throat and peeled her - but I wasn't really there
That's the story of my bunny - my lifeless, skinless little hare
Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? It sounds just like me
I had a little bunny - and honey was her name
She was so cute and funny - till I clubbed her in the brain
So sad I had to eat her - but I'm really not to blame
Was the doings of my daddy - and his sickly little games
I cut her throat and peeled her - but I wasn't really there
That's the story of my bunny - my lifeless, skinless little hare
Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? It sounds just like me
1088 reads
9 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Sep 2012 11:02pm
23rd Sep 2012 11:02pm
Battle Of Evermore
When I was just a wee young thing,I was taught life's lesson well
Ere instead of childhood revelry, mine would be a children's hell
In this life of mine I've learned, you choose to live or choose to die
That for some are chosen happiness, and for the rest to reason why
I could weep and moan at life so cruel or lament in deep despair
Would it help me if I wring my hands while pulling out my hair?
Would it put me in a better place if I took it lying down?
Nay, I think I would be just as dead if...
Ere instead of childhood revelry, mine would be a children's hell
In this life of mine I've learned, you choose to live or choose to die
That for some are chosen happiness, and for the rest to reason why
I could weep and moan at life so cruel or lament in deep despair
Would it help me if I wring my hands while pulling out my hair?
Would it put me in a better place if I took it lying down?
Nay, I think I would be just as dead if...
873 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
22nd Sep 2012 11:13pm
22nd Sep 2012 11:13pm
why me god
Why me God? Why is my life so filled with tears?
Does he have to hit? what has he to gain?
as he rips my clothes-Do you feel my pain?
Why me God? why can't my mother hear my cries?
When I scream her name-does she have a choice?
When I cry in the night-in a small child's voice.
Why me God? Why is it I have to carry this load?
Did I do something wrong? Is is something I've said?
Am I just a mistake? AM i BETTER OFF DEAD?
AND WHY O GOD- couldn't I have a normal life?
Did you give ME eyes- to watch OTHER kids play?
To see the joy on...
Does he have to hit? what has he to gain?
as he rips my clothes-Do you feel my pain?
Why me God? why can't my mother hear my cries?
When I scream her name-does she have a choice?
When I cry in the night-in a small child's voice.
Why me God? Why is it I have to carry this load?
Did I do something wrong? Is is something I've said?
Am I just a mistake? AM i BETTER OFF DEAD?
AND WHY O GOD- couldn't I have a normal life?
Did you give ME eyes- to watch OTHER kids play?
To see the joy on...
929 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by shaunda
