Pine and Oak

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I look and lock down these stairs to the catacombs.

I understand as a stumble, there will never be freedom.

The intertwined pine and oak…lamented before me alludes to a place ‘never to be.’

Hatred and swinging leather belts.

Love mixed with skin pelts.

I write shortly of incidents others have felt.

Thus, I donate my life to disrepair.

To tiled and titled adults without a care.

Tell me now,

how polyester made life light?

Why the campfire of want…became hell?

Tracing the Formica

Posted on by randomwordbyruth
Boscawen NH

The Formica traced a trail of ruddy tears…to an unnamed room.

Deep inside the tomb…

my oblique glasses held visions of dull switch blades.

Daggers dancing through the corners of my soul like,

bloody sugar canes sent to alleviate my decay.

Sliding between the ceramic maze…

a hell to be razed.

Alas, the vow,

little do your tiny demons know,

it was written long ago,

upon a wall made of cork…

‘straight jackets cannot subdue the heart.’

Mum

Posted on by randomwordbyruth

Hurt has turned ghosts to gold

Newborns into antiquated entities

I come and go from the waters, time and time again

Yet, I cannot walk on

Questions to my state of mind

Part and particle of the disease…not the cure

Home, Hostile, Home

Posted on by randomwordbyruth

Home!

Funny, odd, queer, with its anger.

Ham fist-ed jokes never given in moderation.

Games of…

monopoly…no dice.

Frisbee’s tight lipped and tainted black for playing at night.

Puns? A lead pipe to encourage all players to…think twice

The, I Was Only Joking, trophy, next to Home, Sweet, Home, place-mats, to adorn the holes in the wall.

Mad Jester, the biggest joker of us all.

Pastime of full contact Slap Jack.

Paperbacks left in the rain.

Simon Says, it is a never ending riddle.

Wisecracking those who wish to remain sane.

Every Woman’s Anthem

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Cuz no one knows me no one ever will
if I don’t say something, take that dry blue pill
they may see that monster, they may run away
But I have to do this, do it anyway…

I Can’t Keep…QUIET

I had this nightmare that turned into a victorious dream. I was reenacting things that happened in my childhood, but then I would flip the script in my dream. So, I was getting hit, and there was someone watching me get hit. It was a very theatrical look. It was this black, New York theater. It was like, the spotlight. And the abuser and I were in the spotlight. The observer was on the side. As I was getting hit, I looked up at the observer like, “We have to do something. This isn’t right.” That never happened before. I’ve never said, “This is not right. We need to do something.” And the observer said what I had heard my whole life: “Don’t say anything. You’re going to make things worse if you say anything. So just let it happen and then you’ll be OK in a little bit.”

I looked at her, and I was like, “I can’t keep quiet.” And then I woke. It was such a vivid and violent dream, but then at the end, it was kind of this positive dream. 

MILCK