Dig Deep #domestic abuse

A little rant and a p-o-e-m in light of increasing domestic abuse numbers (within this Covid period) and ‘legal’ /unrecognised domestic abuse – depending on country, perspective, bribery and misogyny. It is not OK to condone the notion that women exist to be beaten, abused and trodden on.

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Bury me deeply
so that the sun can’t find
my heart.
It will not oblige
if torn from my smouldering flesh;
soothing fractals in the shadows of my skin
still glow with the pearls
of my faith, a faith that now runs as sweat down
my beaten face. My soul was always on fire –
the reason your hands are now burning.

Bury me deeply
so that the crows you tame
will not abuse me for all eternity,
when solace is no longer
a sacred place
and death becomes an arbitrary mulch.

Bury me deeply,
so that when your fists rage and pound
against the rise of dank, dark soil,
I will not feel you.
And when you scream and shout,
begging for grief and release, since I am not
there to torture, the crows will
gather once again,
but, you will watch them shield me.
So, you should bury
me deeply.

Mad, Bad, Sad

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A one syllable word poem (  I hope).

The call of the wild
is like death in the night.
Bleak shots ring out
in the air full with howls
let loose like doves,
but it soaks them up,

for there is no peace
as those with warm blood
and soft eyes,
have their blood spilt on lush
blades that in sun’s light
are a pea green sea
of frills, which turn to black
laced sport ‘s barbs of dried kin
on torn rags –

grass is stiff from blood rage,
tears hide stains
on sods of red earth, damp
with the id’s
drip of sweat and hot shells
strewn – a young fawn’s
cry is mute.