scream in cathedrals

More poetry

GREY CROSSES
the morning was quiet
like church on tuesdays
and it was just
him and i
and
christ
and
the crunching of the dirt road
beneath the car tires
i heard him say
we'll take the long way home
and
six years later
i am still his passenger
and
still taking the long way home
i felt him
say
things i would never say
to another living soul
things
living souls
would never comprehend
somewhere
i went left
when i should have
went right
or
right
when i should have
went left
but
no u-turns
no
u
turns
it occurs to me
now
that he never
lied
to me
he never said
we are out of gas
he never said
this won't hurt
he never said
i love you
never said
believe
and it is always
those things that go
unsaid
which
hurt most
i remember the
harsh silence
whipping like
winter winds
against my soul
when his eyes were
cosuming me
like that stale body of christ
i once saw him devour
eyes the color of
kansas dirt
after the first
long
hard
rain
eyes holding prisoner
my confused and unsteady
reflection
eyes devoid of
everything
and
full of
nothing
he was upon me
before
the engine of the car had cooled
holding my arms
outstretched
like the christ figure on the wall
where his father worked
i remember feeling
the heat of his breath
on my neck
melting all
safeties
assurances
and beliefs
the same heat
prey
must feel
when the
kill
begins
i remember
yelling
NO
as we struggled
for what seemed like the length
of a sunday serman
i remember the wind
howling through the wheat fields
drowning out my pathetic pleas
i remember
begging
him to stop
as he fumbled with the buttons
on my jeans
all the while
unaware of the dragonfly on the windshield
unaware of me
unaware
he went on
like the night
enveloping all that was
good and light inside of me
until i was in
total
darkness
what was left of my soul
drifted away
and i was no longer
inside myself
he was inside me
in the short time i was away
he made many renovations
built walls where there were oceans
demolished monuments to a king
replaced the sun with a communion candle
and hung many
many
pictures of himself
the starting of the car engine
brought fo life
the cross
hanging from the rearview mirror
beginning with a
quick jerk
and then slowly swinging in and out of the
moonlight
until it quietly
died
as did i
no euligy
no funeral
no lazerous trick
no light at the end of the tunnel
only dying
only him
and i
and christ
and the crunching of the dirt
under the car tires
Teresa Jackson

Briars
My how you've changed
From a beautiful rose bush in the summer, to one in winter
Barren black flowerless
And full of thorns
What happened to the one that was there?
I'm bleeding from you now
You were at one point my only thought
You were the stones that guided me on the path
Now you rarely show
And when you do, you're only purpose is to trip me
And make me lose my balance
And my direction
I remember how you would stir in your sleep
And toss about in the sheets
Stained now with my blood and tears
Something that will never leave me
But it left you and you left
And what am I supposed to do?
I hated you
But then the feeling left and was
Replaced by one more powerful
For one more beautiful and deserving
What is the only thing more powerful than Hate?
Alas for you
You will never feel any of this
Not this time
For this time, it is for me.
diedra

LOST AND FOUND
DROWNING SLOWLY IN A SEA OF DOUBT.
A SILENT SCEAM, A WHISPERED SHOUT.
CLOSED MY EYES AND DRIFTED AWAY.
TRAPPED IN DARKNESS IN A MAZE OF SHAME.
IN THE DARK I COULD NOT FIND-
MY HANDS PINNED DOWN, MY VOICE BEHIND.
SAID A WORD TO FILL THE SPACE.
STILL DREAMING OF A BETTER PLACE.
REMINICING OF A TIME,
INNOCENCE COULD COMMIT NO CRIME.
HEARD A WHISPER CALL MY NAME.
FOUND MYSELF AND FACED THE PAIN.
Pamela

he was a friend
no...
it wasn't rape then.
i was upset
he was trying to help
too much help...too much help.
did i push him
away hard enough?
i can hear the words
escape my lips in gasps
stop...wait....stop...wait
no!
yet their reality
is unclear
did he hear me?
didn't he know?
am i still pure?
who does this make me now?
i just can't remember
if i said no...then
was he supposed to?
i didn't see it coming
i just can't see
anything
but my dirty, tear-stained
heart in the mirror
ashamed of a reflection
afraid of a possibility
"it wasn't that,"
he said. "if you're wondering."
then what was it, Judas?
what was it?

Outside it is dark, and cloudy
The roof does not protect me, but
Instead it lets the rain in
Daddy sings a song to me, and I say my
Prayers
Doesn't seem like God is listening
Doesn't seem to ever stop
Maybe I don't pray right, and maybe
Daddy should stop his song
Stop, stop, stop
God, why won't you make him stop?

Outside the rain is stopping
It is all ending now, but
Inside it is still storming, and
I am crying, dying
Slowly dying all alone

Thank you God for listening
Thank you God for stopping
Now please take my storm away
Before it blows away my dignity
Before it blows me away, and
There is no more left to touch
No more left to see,
Hear, taste, and love
No more left to save
Janette

i tried to build you a house that wasn't haunted
you created a ghost in your hand
the spectre imprinted itself in my mind
i thought to write a story about your life--
you laughed and called it fiction.
the manuscript burns still.
still remains of a bitter day
i asked why aren't we ever sane
time passed by on a weathervane
there are some remedies a poet can't ascertain
light passed us by on a windy day.
i tried to repeat your words
but you called me a liar.
still the word clings, but it's lost its venom
i attempted to create a monument of you
but you tore it down to build a graveyard
still remains of a bitter day
i ask why such cool disdain?
time rushes by points the weathervane
there are some remedies i can't ascertain
light passed you by on a windy day.
jedi

la petite sirene
picture the eyelids
opening, closing
to a dream of ice
and darkness like a bruise
all around the light.
lashes melting, welting
and a look like a wound.
i can see right through you
but that doesn't mean
i won't take you home.
in the morning sun and dust
sift through the blinds
glaring at the sweat and sleep and come
in a bed that could be anyone's.

i still look for him
the eyes, hands that gripped me,
the metal song my throat gave up
at his command.
how love made me dumb
and i had no mer-world to give,
only wheezing gills and stunted fins.

picture him waking to remember me --
just my myth of a frozen face
that only he can thaw.
you have to pull the body from the ice
the same hole it went in through --
i watched but could not tell you what i saw.
i am not afraid of dying
but of living through him again.
seven

l'attente
some me imagined it would be you
gliding in breathless to chatelet
saying the name in the voice of a light heart
holding my hand as the train swept away

i promised not to pray to cry to cut
but i watch every door and you don't appear
and somehow i have to get back on the train
and leave the last possible you here

i thought that losing you was over
but i'm here at midnight at chatelet
looking for your hair your shoes your ghost
as the clock spins circles and the train sweeps away.
seven

Song for the Wicked
Well I don't know about this,
Because it's not my disease,
and I start to feel angry
when you are beneath me.
It's not choice or commitment,
Just dancing on air,
and the thoughts that constrict ou
Inside they are bare.

Time is eating your heart out
Time is taking your soul
Time is nothing but HeartBreak
Time is getting too old.
Time is washing your black dress
in red and gold stars,
Time is blood on the fingers
of a childs guitar.

Well I'm not an expert,
on the subject of you.
I tried to be funny
but you just refused.
Now I'm awake here,
on this winters dark night,
and I don't know if you know
but I hate the fight.

The pain it is flowing
in rivers of me
I don't feel diseased
I don't feel relief.
In time I will show you
the mirror inside
and you will see you
you will see my dead child.

Chitty Bang Bang
Sweet child green eyes
Filled with broken hope.
Ears ringing with lies,
But this child will never mope.

Burning and blood fill her thoughts,
Soreness and pain consume her day.
No bed is ever safe, especially that cot,
She cries and begs not to stay.

He controls her tiny legs,
Scorns her cries with slaps and stings.
His fingers feel like sharp tiny pegs,
She begins to bleed feeling sharp pings.

The sheets are torn and old,
His clothes soiled in the floor.
She smells the mattress of mold,
Eyeing her narrow escape plan to the door.

She stuffs the semen filled sock in his drawer,
And rinses her panties with harsh bleach.
He sits down coldly by the door,
Her view of safe is now a deserted beach.

She closes her eyes and begs for death,
He edges closer for his next strike.
He touches her bare naked chest,
And whispers what he would next like.

Bang Bang No No Bang Bang
No Please No God
take me with you now
as angel to play
Laura age 15
Angels Lost to Heaven

China Doll
He has a glass doll
She has seen alot.
She has bled,screamed and called.
He has broken, scratched and popped.

Her eyes are green and tired,
His are blue and full of ice.
She has a shaw,tied and wired.
He nips at her body like mice.

What will it take to get him away?
Must she die before she lives?
What has she done that she has to pay?
What else will he make her give?

She only has her looks and chinese doll fan.
He can't take her green eyes or blonde hair.
It isn't like the chickens he kills and cooks
in his cold metal pan.
Why does he hear her cry and not give a damn?

Maybe the ice has taken over him,
Maybe the air is warm and melting his love.
Can't he be blind instead of being dim?
Why can't she have wings and fly like a dove?

Is it that magical power he has?
Or that potion he slips her?
Does he dispinse her like a candy pez?
Or is it his eyes lure?

I think she is just a whore,
Maybe she likes it all,
If she didn't why would she come back for more?
She sees him as handsome and tall?

No, she sees him red and scary.
Like the man underground stealing souls.
He crushes her like Mount Airy.
She even saw santa give him coal.

As she realizes that this doll never exists
and it is really me talking here,
She takes a look in the dust coverd mirror.
I see my deep green eyes,
I see my short blonde hair,
Why do I see those slash marks across my face?
Why dosen't anyone else?
Maybe it is just me, the whore.
Always coming back to him for more.
Laura age 15
Angels Lost to Heaven

DO WHAT YOU WANT, I KNOW THE TRUTH
Touch me explore me
Dissect me
Take me as you want
Name me yours, and call me a whore

But listen to me scream
Listen to me beg you to stop
Know how much I hate you, and
Your hands
Your hands that take away
All sense of safety

Realize that I don't want you, and
That I don't love you
I am not your little girl
I am not as vulnerable as you think

My voice brings tears to mommy's eyes,
But she believes me
She knows that I am dying, and she
Sees through your eyes
She knows that you are lying

So call me sweetie, and call me love
Go ahead and tell me that I wanted it
Reassure yourself that it was I, not you,
That did wrong

I know the truth
Janette

Little Girl Lost
Little Girl lost~
In the labyrinth
Of her mind.
Wandering down paths
She's been here before,
Yet, she can't recall.
Half truths dance
Around her, Teasing,
Never quite showing all.

Little Girl lost~
In the mysteries
Of a body she doesn't recognize
Confusion constantly lurks
In every curve. Causing
More questions than answers.
Feeling betrayes once again
By that which
She can't control.

Little Girl lost~
In an adult world
She seems so young.
Yet she bears
The knowledge
Of an ancient.
Wise beyond her years
Yet still a child
Lost and hiding.

Little Girl lost~
In a system
That failed her
Unable to protect
Her From that
Which it would not see.
Choosing to ignore
The facts staring,
Right in their eyes.

Little Girl hiding~
In a dark closet
Trying to be invisible.
Buried deep in
A corner with her
Head pressed in the wall.
Here, she is safe
She is protected
By the darkness.

Little Girl hiding~
Wanting to live,
But wanting to die.
She is trapped
In a woman's body
With a child's mind.
She struggles to forget
To get on with life
And find herself.
Kerri

Surrounded by four
But never more alone
Isolated in my world
Despite my efforts
To join them in theirs.

I don't belong here
So why do I keep
Trying to put
A square peg
In a round hole.

Isolated in the madness
Insanity rings true
Keeping my mind occupied
While my brain
Runs and hides.

Running for its life
To keep from being destroyed
Keeping the cycle going
Eating oneself
Then giving birth to the same.

Surrounded by four
But not quite here
Watching through unseeing eyes
Living a life
That's not her own.

But devils and angels
Can't go to the same clubs
And snakes can't
Give the mouse
A goodbye kiss.
Kerri

Images dancing
Through my dreams.
Wings and feathers
Soaring, gliding flights
Clouds whizzing
By and below
Flying far far away
No longer trapped
Or caged
In the shadows
Of the past.
Away from here
Soaring Faster,
Faster now.
Not quite there
Fleeing the past.
Looking down
Through the clouds,
The haze of memory
At my past.
Wings and feathers
Protect me
Keep me safe
From the shadows
Of the past.
Stars calling my name
Creating a new reality.
Soaring through,
The blackness of night
She cloaks me
In the darkness of her embrace.
Disguising my form
Allowing me safe passage
Through clouds and stars.
Flying further still
Trying to put some distance
Between the shadows and memories
Of the past.
A snakelike beast
With an unsatiable appetite
Which I was to try and fill.
Flowers which bloom too early
Also die too young.
Now is my time to fly
With wings and feathers
To protect me.
Kerri

The snake beast haunts my dreams
But calls my name
In a taunting manner
During the middle of day.
This is all a game to him.
He is the cat
And I,
I am the mouse.

I feel him
As he slithers
Through my body
Gently lapping up
The blood wihich runs
Through my veins.
He forcefully takes that which,
I am unwilling to give.

The snake, takes all that makes me
Appealing
But he never stops
To tell me what that is.
He uses my innocense.
Throws it back in my face.
He slithers around my legs
Constantly tasting.

It is a deadly game
Of cat and mouse
But I,
I am too naive to know
That there is more
Of this to come.
Just when I think it's over,
It begins again.

He slithers up my thighs
To the apple
(Which is his treasure)
That lies between them.
I scream in my mind
Begging, pleading for her
To come and rescue me
But she never does.

The cat catches the mouse
As the snake finds his apple
Sinking his venomous fangs
Into the tender flesh.
A woman screams
As her baby dies
And I,
I run and hide.
Kerri

Obsession
Obsession, Compulsion, Need.
Manic Depression, make yourself bleed
Confusion, absolute Obsession
Strange unusual confessions.

Schitzophrenic confusion cloud
Nightmares screaming very loud
Bright eyed obsession to stay awake
Compulsion to do and to make and to take.

Seeing things, hearing voices,
Lots of little scrabbling noises
See your frail body as bloated
Obsession to see yourself outvoted.

Obsession, Compulsion, Need.
To want someone so badly you bleed
Confusion, Absolute Obsession
Sinking into Depression.
Sarah

swirling
i place my head on my navy blue pillow.
the ninteen year-old pillow
i've become so accustomed to.
i close my eyes.
i turn out my light, ensconce myself
in white feathers and cloth and
gently clutch my soft securities of early childhood.
letting out a soft sigh,
my hand touched my face--young and firm but yet
feeling dry and aged from the dripping,
salty remains of the day.
i prepare for sleep.
but this night, it all changes.
flashbacks of tears, cracking knuckles,
odd stares and silver angels
race through my head, coming and going
but stopping to haunt and torture
me on their way through.
i visualize penetration while
staring at the blurred ceiling,
my voice inaudible beyond
the screaming in my head.
i witness the brutal murder
of my innocence and the destruction and
defilement of my future in choked, exhausted tears.
i pray and taste my mother's tears
and see my father's gentle smile.
i feel my best friend holding
my tired, lifeless soul close,
safe from harm.
my life--tumbling from the wonderland
of my nightmares deeper than i
ever thought it could go.
my breath quickens, my body tenses
into a thousand volts of deadly
energy, my eyes blink rapidly.
i'm in a convulsion, a bad trip i can't control.
i think of him--where is he?
can he see me?
my family--torn at the seams by a
harrowing violation of their little girl.
justice--not for me and not for
any other feminine creature on this gender-biased planet.
why?
why is this destroying me...why?
why?
why?
why?
oh god, i just don't understand.
let me go home.
let me die, but let me live.
i want to be human, i want to be everything but human.
anything but an emotional biology project
to probe and pick apart heartlessly.
oh god, why?
let me sleep..just let me sleep.
leigh sampson
AOL IM: MetMNAHotl

HEALING®
It happened to me,
So long ago,
But I can't seem,
To let it go,
It will always,
Be in my mind,
In my past,
Lurking behind.
It hurt real bad,
It made me cry,
I was too young,
To know why.
What had happened,
I never knew,
Until I joined a program,
Inside my school.
It helped me forget,
All the pain,
All the hurt,
All the suffering.
But I've gotten stronger,
Every day,
People know,
But it's okay.
I'm getting better,
Almost forgotten it all,
I'll always be proud.
I'll always stand tall~
Mike Tales from the Glass Box Pt. 1
Okay, i'm putting on my biography song
"life was a winding road" *
i have this reality
that i'm trapped underwater
and the water is black
i'm not floating
floating is for the cotton candy queens
those without the weight of demons
i'm trapped inside a glass box
my long hair is perfect
just the way i want it
"tell me why the beautiful ones they hurt you everytime"**
this glass chamber is stable
filled with my black moet
at least i stand up in this hell, not like the last one
i bang and bang on the roof
i think it's snowing
me and a cross and a man on my back
i bang on the glass i swirl around
i wear the most beautiful dress
the belle of lucifier's ball
the slit is so high there's blood coming from it
who put me here
who keeps me here
maybe i keep myself
maybe i put myself here
"and nothing i do is good enough for you"***
i thought this is where i belong
but the water's turning blood red and i can't find the tap
i don't know how to live anywhere else
i don't belong anywhere else
should i make this home
or move to the nunnery
i lift the lid up a crack
"i got me some horses to ride on to ride on"****
but the army marches on
and my pretty palace is whole again.
Nicole N
April 23, 1999
*Close My Eyes by Mariah Carey from MC's Butterfly
**The Beautiful Ones by Prince from MC's Butterfly
***Crucify by Tori Amos from TA's Little Earthquakes
****Horses by Tori Amos from TA's Boys for Pele

Tales from the Glass Box pt. 2
perhaps
i think
that maybe
i
keep myself in my glass box
(it is my glass box, i've earned it)

after all
my fingers are frozen
(never could skate again)
but no breath can warm them
and no hand can hold them
(let's walk side by side Mr. H)

i'd rather be frozen
then warming up
in some boy's rec room
(long live the bloomin' 4th of july)*

black water fights
the white snow for
its friend
the butterfly in
a glass box
and all it asks for in return
is the butterfly's wings
(available at the Choirgirl Hotel)**

maybe
i'm afraid
to fly outside the crystal
picket fence

can the
butterfly
only fly
if there's
no net in
sight?

all the diamond knives
in the world
couldn't pay
the price
of a life outside
the glass box

who wants to give them up
all those late nights
in the box
that's how i
bought
my diamond knives
Ms. Twain sold them
a dime a dozen
Nicole N
April 26, 1999
*Liner notes by Mariah Carey from MC's Butterfly
**Title by Tori Amos from TA's Choirgirl Hotel

Tales from the Glass Box pt. 3
it has certainly been a busy week in my glass box
all the tourists press their noses up against the glass
(this way ladies and gentlemen, please don't feed the animals)
a few more nails put in the corners
grandma and her kin come to visit
they tell me butterfly can't come out to play
the stage is only for the slutty or the smart
(at least 1 out of 2 ain't bad)
they sing me a hymn
the noise is drums from hell
the innkeepers don't want a new act
they like being ringmaster
freedom for all says Abe
but the powers that be like their throne in the big green car
all the throats you can slit, none of the mess and heated leather seats
(and they tell me i'm a smooth ride).
Nicole N
April, 1999

Tales from the Glass Box Pt. 4
What is it like to live in my glass box?
What does it sound like?
What does it taste like?
What does it smell like?
It smells like hot clammy breath that crawls up your neck.
It tastes like cheap carpeting in your mouth.
It sounds like the clatter of silverware and the gaping of mouths.
Can you imagine living forever in Cinderella`s nightmare?
You can see everyone and you`re friends with all of his friends.
You are beckoned to come and dance.
And you take a step forward.
Only to have claws dig into your shoulders . . . your neck . . . your
ankles . . . your thighs . . . your head . . . your arms.
They pull you back and make you watch the life you`ll never have.
Other divas smile sympathetically and twist in their own glass box.
Strangers point and laugh and throw pennies into the box and
flick the glass.
Those who profess love take a moment and scream the same profanities
that put you into the glass box in a vain attempt to get you out of the
box. After all, they tell         you, if you really wanted to you
could get out only      you`re lazy and you whine too much and just shut
up and      just tell your voices to go away and then it`s over and
what the fuck was the problem in the first place and      why won'`t you
tell me what the fuck is your fucking      problem you fucking little
filthy fuckhead and are you      some fucking lez or something and it`s
not that hard        to do and don't tell us because if we don`t know
then      it didn`t happen and just don`t think about it and      it`ll
go away and why are you so goddamn moody and get      off your ass and
don`t be lippy with me and let me pat      your ass and tell me your big
secret and watch me      disappoint you with my reaction because it
fucking      happened how many fucking years ago and it wasn`t that!
      big of a deal and worse things have happened and you      really
weren'`t hurt that bad and so what and so some      guy groped you so
fucking get over it . . . (please add      any insult, slander, comment,
suggestion, question,      damnation, curse, etc. that any `loved ones`
have add      the fucking loving kindness to smack your face with).
Ah yes, life in the glass box, to sum it up, is like constantly drowning
while high-pitched demons scream societie`s echos in your ears and daddy
and Sean and all your time spenders rip your flesh away and you bang on
the glass while you stand in main street with the local pervert picking
the lock and all the strangers you know so well laugh at your agony and
you make the water redder because you believe your best friend when she
tells you to get the fuck over it and every escape plan fails and all
you can do is rock the little butterfly to sleep . . .
Nicole N
May 3, 1999