Poetry Blogs (2020, Abuse)

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Life is

Life is pure

Life is pure torture

Life is pure torture with you 


Love is

Love is freedom

Love is freedom denied

Love is freedom denied by you 


Hope is

Hope is eternal

Hope is eternally gone

Hope is eternally gone in you 


Death is

Death is coming

Death is coming fast

Death is coming fast for you.

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Your Scar

(for the little girl who haunts my dreams still) 


Dear Daddy,


Not that you'd care, but

All that I wanted was to make you proud

But, I was too stupid

Too fat

Too loud


All you ever did was bring me down

I was your scar

Your permanent frown


I was your verbal punchbag

In your whiskey fuelled state

Never felt I was your child 

Just a vessel for...

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abuselifemental health

The Blame Game.

entry picture

She spun and spun
And weaved a web
So intricate
So delicate
And at once impenetrable.

No one could see
The pedalling feet beneath
The turning of the many cogs
The machine whirring and wearing away inside of her.

Her past an ever present.
Her future already decided.
Fate was never to be on her side.
They'd seen to that.

They stole her innocence
Her joy
Her pride.

Bitter was she.

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abuseself harm

I've Been Wrung

Lick your fingers
Every last bit
Bend over
Take the hardest hit
Now, burn
And let me watch
On the spot
Twist yourself in knots
I want the final drop
Become dust
Collapse and shed
Until the last sparkle
Of my Queens head
Is spent
Until the last glimmer
Of her glitter
Has bled
You belong to me
I own your soul
That is how
You line
Every pocket
With gold

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Blackened eyes reflect the venom 

That burned beneath your veins. 

Acrid breaths, defend the lies

Of a life you soiled and stained

Conceited smile to manipulate a fool, 

To bend and shatter the goodness. 

Masquerading as Hope,

Disguised as love

Defiled the light to sadness


Left stumbling for air

Left needing a heart

Left broken, left consumed, left abandoned


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When you are left black and blue,                                                                                             And all he can do                                                                                                                   Is turn around in bed,                                                                                                         And whisper 'so...

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abuseaiddomesticdomestic abusedomestic violencegenderwomen

A poetic justice

He took his wife
A punching bag
He is at liberty to hug
Or to blow up steam
By her hairs to drag.

As it may sound sad
He opted to project
A doting husband facade.

When she became vocal
About this
To his parents
Who she called
Mom and dad
"We do not expect
Our well brought up
Son with
Something underhand!"

"We are afraid
The complaint is not
Plausible as he has
A cool head!" the...

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The best poem never written

The following is in reply to a private message to a fellow poet this morning who ending by saying...


..."I don't even know what poetry is! I just write the words in my head as I reflect on a life spent/misspent"...



######  I do exactly that.

In fact, I have written a few poems here that do say just that... Life is poetry mate.

Some of it is hard and challenging. WOL ...

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AbuseAll of usDeathMental illnessPoReligion

The Cost Of Your Hand

I awake on a bed of roses, 

Whose petals crunch like orphaned autumn leaves.

A ray of sunlight towards me approaches,

Dancing in the light are muddy speckles aplenty.


I can feel the air around me toy with my locks,

Which is as feeble as your grasp on my hand.

But I hold on

To you, this very second, this very moment.


The mere sight of you sugarcoats my disill...

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Unforgiven Glimpses

Unforgiven glimpses

into a tempestuous past

bruise after bruise

fragments of broken glass

sirens screeching suddenly

shattering the silence of night

is this the way it finishes

does life end for her tonight


Blood soaked fists

a demon in his eyes

this man she thought a friend

his constant stream of lies

her eyes begin to close

as her body becomes numb


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abusedomestic violenceviolence

Not-So-Happy Father’s Day

Jealousy pokes at me 

like a schoolyard bully,

as I scroll social media greetings 

professing undying love, 

to fathers here and above. 


I can’t help but feel cheated 

to not have a father’s love.


I cringe at the dissonance

between my children

and their father. 


How can fate be so cruel,

to curse multiple generations 

with dysfunctional fathers. 


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abuseFather’s Daylifelossloverelationships

Mute By Choice

entry picture

The journey  of  life 

Others travel to be wise

On the way i met a girl 

Blessed with  a  beautiful  soul

'Friends' they used to describe

A bond we treasured alike

Cared, played, even shared

Except for her own voice

A radiant smile on her face

Succeeded  to hide every trace

Careful not to loose the fascade

Tried to deceive  but miserably failed

One day at her ho...

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A tru friendshipabusefighting alonesilent tears


Taken - Poem by Marie

You took me just a child, you abused my trust saying that you loved me 

I felt safe locked tight in the arms of you my lover, it was all a lie 

Thinking we would be forever I was happy to make you happy in all ways 

Little did I know I was a food for your ego a toy to play with, fire to fuel 

I turned my back on my fame, and friends, and my so precious teenage years 


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agile mind dimmed by the drugs

they say shes a dopewhore; she fucks all the plugs

no one to care for her, shes losing her mind

but deep down inside theres a loving soul you'll find

scared of her shadow shes been badly abused

covered in makeup so you cant see that shes bruised

turned to the gang because it was the only thing left

but it wasnt what it seemed full of lies and ful...

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That fateful day

That fateful day


I hear you coming up the stairs

The cause of all my hopes... and fears!

I know for certain what’s in store

My life ripped apart... and what for?


So many times, black and blue

Because the abuse, caused by you.

Sometimes scars left, never fade

Every mark you’ve ever made


Broken ribs, broken nose

God how many? Cos. Only God knows


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abusechildhoodMonster crueltysadnesswar ptsd.Just another day at work

Poem for my late step-dad, Don the Cockroach.

entry picture

You seeped into our lives
A rising damp
Destroying everything in your path.
Maybe that's unfair.
Destruction was what we knew best
And to be honest, I don't remember much of the early days.
You just appeared like an unwanted mould
Infecting every nook and cranny
Polluting the very air we breathed.
Buddy Holly boomed throughout
As you clenched your butt cheeks like a spastic baboon
Lord ...

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