Her World In Poetry

Bloody Ocean

The music drowns me

Drowns me like the under-nourished spawn

Chocking on an ocean of blood

Drained from the slaughtered gods

But I push down the faces of the screaming men of hatred

And boldy bellow

FUCK YOU ALL

Demonic Rapist Of Innocence

From the embankment I stood in the protection of the unseen

Across the waters I gazed upon the Caliban of this story

Step by step he embedded his course heels in the sand

A victim flung over the shoulder, a victim of innocence

A victim about to loose a life long virtue to a life long awaiting

It’s not the beast with horrid actions, but the life’s denial

He is his own torturer as he hemps down the hands of weakness

To the surroundings that he created from other gods creations.

Shred the barriers between the fiend and the pleasurable

Slip into the unexposed and spill the hidden depths of she

All the while, there are still the curious who watch and hope

There is I, the voyeur who does nothing but wait

I walk alone at night in the hope that I would be chosen

Not to endure the hatred in the eyes of the rapist

But to give pleasure to the beast that is wanting

And ask him to unblock the hinder for me make the journey

To a better extinction. But I wait

And gaze at the show before this breed of life

I trim the smile that grows as I feel my blood race each of my veins

Her eyes hidden from the moment as her incorruptibility is exposed

Her convulsion deepening the greatness

Of he and me

I strive and slither into her psyche

And suffer this instant in the midst of her

Explosion of gullibility drenches the land in where they lie

No more pain will she feel , life now starts for the lucky one

Motionless she stays through the supremacy of contentment

Caliban is now fuelled to pursue the next wanted

Is this my moment,

Is this a moment that shall remain silent to daunt the dawning hours

How is it that I shall expose the truth behind my eyes

To be wanted

All I ever hoped to grace the faces of my encounters is to wanted

My foot treads a crucial daunting pace to my exposition

There I will stand and await the fate that I am yet to know.

Eternal Deeds

The secret is in the blood spilt from the one. A deed of his disciples

The truth has outed all good reason and compassion has disintegrated

And now corruption has endeavoured. The followers of his deeds

The penetration of the deviant’s deep hidden outgrowth

Satisfies the existence of the mortals that will live an eternity of wondering

And yet perhaps an eternity of regret that one would give in so soon

An eternity of there being no more chances to be as fresh and as pure

He has been the guilty element to the downfall of many souls innocence

And now you will be waiting, until your eternity begins.

©Pamela James-Blackwood 2007

Mr Death

Mr hooded man stood there

Your face is hidden but I know you stare

You eyes are piercing and you scare me so

In my room you stand and you don’t go

You whisper words I can not hear

But these words you speak are words of fear

You take my mind and read it through

You know my life and what I do

I hate the way, that when I cry

You visit me in hope I die

And because of you I now fear life

The slumber air you cut with knife

I can not rest, I can not sleep

Happy thoughts from me you keep

You wont step down until I give in

But if I do that , I know you win

Immortality is what I need

But to live that long just shows my greed

So should I just surrender to you

Mr Death, you know what to do.

Ritual Suffocation

Here upon the nigh time terrain I lie

Alone with the shadows of the sconced walls draped

I stare into the night

Nimbus drowned moonlight appears

Through the pane of this cell

Alone, I am here

Waiting for the ritual of sleep to engulf me

I wipe the fear from my eyes

As the moment approaches

At the stroke of the darkest hour

I close my eyes and fill my lungs with the cool night air

and await.

I feel the movement

The vines of the metal patterns that surround me grows

Caging me into solitude, and

Through the sheets of protection

The ocean of hands break through the suffocation of the under world

The hands of the dead hold me down

Choking the soul out of me

The grey bone flesh

One by one they appear

The hand that strokes the darker than night silk threads

Is greeted by the hand that holds my throat

Then the hand that holds my mouth to silence salutes the hand

That appears through the now wombless abdominal flesh

I see the blood leave me

Cold before the slow absorption to the underworld

Stained like the ink on parchment

Internal masturbation gasping for life

The grip on my ankles makes me motionless

As I continue the ritual suffocation of my sole to the dead

Through the night time terrain I am consumed

Taken away to the underworld

And returned before I am awoken

Sacrifice to the Judas

There’s a Judas, A yearning Judas

Judas roams the living grave yard

The hunt for a sacrifice made in his name

A volunteer for a victim he slains

Show no mercy show no mercy

The hallowed victim cries in vain

The blood pours to the readily moisten soil

A life in toil, blood pours through the valley

Valley of her chest, and reddens her breast

And she stands, she cries

And tries

To make the moment honourable

As Judas cups the blood and sips

Floods his face and stains his lips

Blackened are the veins in his eyes

Victimous sacrifice still cries

As she lies at his feet

He gives a smile, stands a while

Kicks the giver and continues to roam the living graveyard

And hunts for a sacrifice to be made in his name

The Falling

In the night time wonderland of the malevolent moon that prospers

The bloody stench of death stains the blackening petals of the rose

The rose that honours the decaying of the fallen and the gutless

Throw me the wreath that I shall lay at the feet of the mighty oak

And may we continue our battle of the skulls that fall from hell

And together we shall dwell in this old world where the fearless are feared

And the rain falls crimson on the guiltless pallid robes we adorn

A world that we are born into as the guilty victims of pleasures to beastiality

I stand and stare at the mischievous sprite in the face all the while

Internal bleeding seeping through the broken heart bleating at my swollen flesh

Spiritual minds condones the sadistic natures as we stand

We stand and we wait until we witness the life that grows from the weeping blood

Another skull falls as our backs are turned to the brutality called time

Hand in hand I walk with the standing breathing torso of sin

Passing the rotten appendages, I lower my head and let my face shroud

It hides beneath the strangly drapes as I walk away from the Oakland cenotaph

And I will turn back only to live it all again

The Great Hall

Within these stones an echo heard

Times past will stay eternal

Four walls stand high, they’ve seen it all.

History rebuilt and somewhat lies

But truth is within

A space that once stood twice that’s now

But halved will make no difference.

Its beauty remains strong today.

As I walk the stones of mighty men

I feel their purpose shown.

A society built from their unknown effort

An image so strong for seven hundred years more

Fourteen shields at steep reach

An image of modern knowledge,

Misleading but not intended

For young minds are no different

But soon they will learn for seven hundreds years more.

What's Life and What's Fantasy