Saturday 30 July 2016

Distant Echoes (July 30, 2016)

Can still hear
Mom and dad
At each other.

Guilt fills 
My 6 years old

I am responsible
For their verbal fight
That happening
Before me.

Even now
Almost 4 decades 

The guilt
Still haunts me.

As tears 
Threat to overflow
My tear ducts.

Gushing forth
Like Niagara Falls
Of my location
In a public area.

Leaving me
Brimming with curses
At my long term memory
And its ability
To retain them.

Wishing for
Total amnesia
Of any long term

Failing that

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For more years, than I care to remember, my long term memory has been able to retains events that I would rather have erased. One of the huge disadvantage of this, is a "Swiss" cheese like short term memory, which I have forgotten numerous conversations, after I or the other person has left. As a teenager, my mom stopped asking me, to get anything from the downstairs pantry, as I would forget her request, by the time, I got to the pantry. 

Monday 25 July 2016

An Ending (August 8, 2013)

Sexually assaulted
By you.

You actions raped
My mind and soul.

Destroying a child
Filled with hope
And Dreams.

As my tears
Form a noose
Around my neck.

Each new tear
Adds an additional loop
Until thirteen is reach
And tightened.

As the trap door

Therisa © 2013

Author's note: Originally posted, on a peer supported PTSD site.

Untitled (July 7, 2012)

Why is
My heart filled
With so such pain?

Tears flow
So effortless
Down my cheeks.

Am I
A freak
Like people
Tell me?

To be feared
And assaulted
For being

I miss your
Protective arms
Holding me

A child

Therisa © 2012

Author's note: Another old poem, from my poetic morgue, written, during the depth of depression.

Saturday 23 July 2016

Broken System (Fiction) (November 24, 2011)

Knife edge
Pressed against
The tender underside
Of a wrist.

A foreign word
Which has
No more meaning
At all.

Fell upon
Deaf ears.

Forced to deal
With volatile emotions
A person’s control.

For everything
That has happened
In the past.

Swift stokes

No more.

Therisa © 2011

Author's note: An older poem, from 2011, with many elements that ring true, for me, it's a fictional poem. Yes, I know, it's a dark poem.

Friday 22 July 2016

War, I Wage (July 19, 2016)

At war
With myself.

Starving my body
As I campaign
Against depression.

Destroying myself
For short term gains.

As the glucose readings
Spike upwards
Into dangerous territory.

My drug bill

Therisa © 2016

Thursday 21 July 2016

Final Fateful Wish (July 18, 2016)

My earliest memory
Is more than 
Thirty years old
Dating back
To my teenage years.

In wishing
My death
The previous night
As I sleep.

Instead of
Waking up
The coming morn.

Just wanting
The violence
In my life
To end.

Like the seasons
It cycles
Between passive
And active 
Suicide thoughts.

Once more
Am waiting for
The nightly wish
To come
And end this.

Therisa © 2016

Wednesday 20 July 2016

Beyond The Surface (July 20, 2016)

We talk
As if
We know
What acceptance
Really means.

Having a clue
About the level
Of our ignorance
For this word.

I say this
As someone
Who has experienced
This first hand.

What hate
Really means
And does
To a person.

On a physical
And emotional level.

Blaming myself
For causing
This destructive energy
Around me.

About myself.

To the point
I hated myself
With a passion
Corroding my soul
In toxic poison.

As Death
By suicide
The only solution
For this.

Even now
Am slipping down
Into this growing despair
Of darkness.

Just wanting it
To end
One way
Or another.

Therisa © 2016

Saturday 16 July 2016

A Verbal Photograph Of My Past (July 16, 2016)

In darkness
I lay
Hiding away
From life.

My soul
A lacerated road map
Of mental scars
(In various stages
Of healing).

From the evil
Humanity can inflict
Upon each other.

A second thought.

When their fists
And feet
Couldn't break me

They turn
To psychological
And emotional attacks.

Whatever confidence
And esteem
I had.

To the point
I found myself
On the narrow ledge.

To jump.

Not once
But several times
Throughout my life.

Always stopping
Just a step or two
From taking
That final leap.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note:The past 2 months, have been emotionally brutal, to me, given the constant death toll, from the hatred inspired violence, around the world. Worsening, my semi-annual depression, I experience, around the Canada Day holiday (July 1), which is marked, with the deaths of many family members, and the death of the relationship, between my mom and I. Starting back, in 1977, with the death of my grandfather (my mom's dad), from a massive heart attack, as the result of being, Type II diabetic. There's more to this, but I don't feel comfortable, talking about it, right now.

Friday 15 July 2016

Wearing Fur, With Pride (July 11, 2016)

Oh Squeak
My love.

You think
I would've learnt
By now.

Chiding myself
As I brush off
Your excess fur
From my dark top

Holding you
Against my upper body.

Your head
Resting on
My shoulder.

Sound of purring
As my head rests
Against your broad shoulders
Petting your long body.

Fills me
With an inner peace
No drug can give.

Having removed
The more severe clumps
From the shirt
Before heading out
The apartment door.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: As anyone, who lives, with a cat or a dog, knows, you can't escape, from home, without wearing some bit of fur, upon your clothing. Almost, a badge of honour, in showing your love and pride, to the little ones, in your life.

And yes, no animal was harmed or killed, during the writing of this poem. Unless, you feel kissing a cat, upon its forehead, an act of violence.

God Loves, Man Hates (July 15, 2016)

Each second
The circle grows
Like a viscous noose
Around my soul.

Every passing day
Am surprised
At my endless supply
Of tears.

Growing heavier
In volume.

Will this pain
Ever end?

At what started
As a small trickle
Has become
A raging river
Of blood and tears.

Covering everyone
Of one's ethnicity
Religious views
And gender.

Shall we
Be able to
Move beyond
Our hatred.

In embracing
Each other
As brothers 
And sisters.

Showing love
Isn't limited
Just to God

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Dedicated to, all victims of violence, wherever, you live. 

Yes, I am aware, that the title of this poem, is very similar, as the graphic novel, X-Men: God Loves, Man Hates, published by Marvel Comics. For many years, growing up, I found refuge, in the pages of X-Men comics, allowing me, a place to dream and hope for, a better future, from the violence plagued years of my childhood and into adulthood.

Thursday 14 July 2016

A Day of Blessing (July 14, 2016)

Like a bolt
Of lightening
Out of the blue.

It happened
To me.

Never expecting
To find support
Like I did

Given the darkness
I have been travelling
For the past month.

I accept this
As a blessing
From the Goddess

Gracing me
With light
At a dark moment.

Who I know
From the local library.

He thought
I was Intersex.

Instead of
A transsexual
(Male to Female),.

We do face
Many similar battles
In our struggles
For acceptance.

My gentle explaining
That Intersex used
To be known 
As Hematite 
Helped out.

As we parted
He shook my hand
And told me:

"Never let them
Stop you
In your dream".

As I thanked him
Before parting
Our ways.

A huge reversal
Of what normally
To a trans-person.

Am grateful for
Given the stressful day
It has been
For me.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: On July 13th, my apartment was sprayed for cockroaches, and I was forced to relocate the cats, for least 6 hours, in another part of my apartment building. Not to mention, all of the prep work that needed to done, to get my apartment ready, which could only happen, in the final hours, before the spraying was scheduled, to happened. Throughout all of this, the cats were real troopers, and helped to ease some of the stress, I was experiencing, from this departure of my normal routine.

Tuesday 12 July 2016

The Call (July 11, 2016)

A soul drowning
In psychic tears
To consume all
Body and soul.

Desperate wail
Of a fire engine's siren
Scream by.

Able to keep afloat
As "arms" grow weaker
By the second.

Rushing off
To an emergency call
That's life and death
For someone.

Of surrendering
Grow stronger
To the tears.

Trucks weaves
In and out
Of the holiday traffic.

Gathering darkness
Closes in
One last time
The final silence.

Practiced precision
They stormed up
The apartment stairs
In their mercy quest.

Distance voices
Are heard
They fade away

Loud crash
The door's opening.

The Angel of Death
As She claims
Her latest companion.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: The wail of fire engine's siren, past the cyber-cafe, on July 1st, was the inspiration for this dark poem. By the time, I had walked home, the first two stanza were already written, in my head. The rest of the poem would take 10 days, to complete. 

It's true, I suffer from chronic depression that claims me, for several months, throughout the year, I'm not actively suicidal, in seeking my death. Although, i do entertain thoughts of not awaking up, from the previous night sleep. Each morning that I do wake up, a sense of sadness, fills me, in having survived another night, and to having to face another day, as a result.

Through The Valleys (July 12, 2016)

I could describe
What it means
To be me.

In conveying
The journey
I have undertaken
Just reaching here
At this moment.

Of countless tears
And bloody cuts
Upon my body
And soul.

Of the dark valleys
I have found myself

Raging rivers
Of tears
Ever deeper
Into my soulscape.

Parts of my soul
Into the gathering darkness
That threatens 
To consume me.

One piece
At a time.

Of the repressed anger
That burns
With white hot embers.

In fuelling 
Those flames
Of depression
And self-hatred.

To the point
The inner darkness
Blocks out
All light sources.

Ever deeper
Into the depth
Of despair.

No hope
Of return.

And yet
For reasons unknown
I have moved
Even though
Death remains
A step behind.

That final dance.

Therisa © 2016

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