Wicked Lies

Wicked Lies

You blew into my life

Like a storm that destroys everything exposed and not tied down

Your appetite was ravenous

Resulting in the consumption of my self-respect

Time and time again, you proved yourself a liar

As you went on a rampant rampage

Ravishing every man who lurks in low places

Hoping for something sweet to bring redemption to his bitter soul

Then you would crawl up from the caverns like a thief in the night

Making noise about desiring a revival of our bond

The first time I believed

The second time I convinced myself

The third time I saw that what I held in my hand

Was a vestige of

What never was

I finally scattered the ashes of the lie that was our love to the wind

And let you go forever

It was the best thing I ever did for myself

~Adam~

Created for The Reverie

Adam's notes: 

This poem draws on my toxic relationship with my previous boyfriend. I am happy to say that I am now with the man of my dreams, six years strong and married in Hawaii as of this Halloween!

I Wish

Image Source

 

I Wish

 

I

 

I wish I could do something to make things better

 

 

Image source

 

II

 

Wish I could keep you safe in my pocket always

 

~Cie~

 

Alexandrine forms created for The Reverie.

Exposing the Lies

Image Source

Exposing the Lies

He was always there to mock me, to remind me that no man could ever think a woman like me was pretty. He was always there to convince me to go on another diet that wouldn’t work, all in the name of catching a man like him; a perfect specimen, ice cold and sadistic, but beautiful. His face was tantalizing but his assertions were foul.

He delighted in gutting me whenever I started feeling better about myself. One day, to his surprise, self-respect surged through my battered soul.

Image Source

I snatched the mask from his face.

“You! It was you all along!”

It was then that I saw his true ugliness, and learned another truth as well.

Having an external appearance that most people find pleasing does not make a person beautiful. Some very ugly people have pretty outsides, and some people who look quite plain are actually beautiful within.

Anyone who gleans pleasure from making another person feel badly about themselves is not a person to look up to. Anyone who ridicules another for their size, their age, or the color of their skin is the epitome of ugliness.

At no time again

Will I allow shallowness

To define my worth

~Tempest Nightingale LeTrope~

Prompts Used:

Haibun Thinking

Jeremy's Daily Challenge

The Reverie

Tempest's Thoughts:

The writers for Team Netherworld tend to be drawn to people and characters who aren't conventionally attractive. They either do not align with societal standards of beauty, or they have other traits which make them "unattractive" under conventional scrutiny, i.e. being mentally ill or not heterosexual.

I want to share pictures of a few of the people we've featured on this blog and the reasons why they would not be considered attractive by conventional standards of beauty.

Amy Winehouse

Tattoos

Brash clothing choices

Not conventionally delicate/feminine

Ville Valo

Tattoos

Sometimes wears makeup 

Sinewy physique

Copyright: vschlichting / 123RF Stock Photo

Middle-aged

Heavy build

Modest attire

Malcolm Young

Middle-aged

Short (5' 4")

Extremely slender physique (~110 pounds)

Freddie Mercury

Non-Caucasian (Parsi)

Flamboyant

Bisexual

Here's a twofer!

Stan Laurel:

Middle-aged

Extremely slender

Prominent nose

Oliver Hardy:

Heavy build

Middle-aged

Plump face

If any of these people showed up for a photo shoot at a fashion magazine, they'd be sent away with derisive commentary. They would likely be mocked by gossip rags for lacking a certain type of highly improbable beauty.

In fact, I find all of them aesthetically pleasing. I like imperfect people. I would rather look at people like these all day long than any number of so-called perfect people.

The truth is, the perfect people really aren't that perfect either.

I've always appreciated Britney Spears' willingness to have people see the unretouched photos from her Candies shoes ad. She wanted girls to see what her body really looks like without her torso and legs being elongated and slenderized. She has sturdy, muscular dancers' legs. There is nothing whatsoever wrong with her real build.

Britney, the real you is beautiful!

And all of you are beautiful too.

Love, 

Tempest

Lost Soul

Image Source

Lost Soul

 

Lost in a strange and twisted world

Only the echoes of my thoughts for company

Sanctuary is nowhere to be found

Tragedy is the order of the day

 

Sadness prevails within a lonely heart

Only the echoes of my thoughts surround me

Undoing any hope for companionship outside myself

Love never enters the dark realm of my mind

 

~Cie~

 

Prompt:

The Reverie



Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

I

In an industry that praises a man for being a blackguard

You refused to behave like a swine

You were tolerant, but not amoral

You chose to cleave to what you deemed important

Refusing to be some sort of cog in the machine

Your voice was an understated baritone

Your style in no way operatic

You preferred to let your axe do the talking

Coming up from a humble background

You led the poor in a quiet revolt

By teaching us to be unashamed of who we are

If anyone had ever referred to you

As a knight riding in on a white horse

You would have laughed

But you were a hero to many of us

We saw you as strong in spite of your diminutive stature

Which is why we were shocked when it was revealed just how fragile you are

There was no antecedent to predict

How swiftly and fearfully you would be felled

II

When I found out the reason

Why the world would never again hear your restless thoughts poured out in music

It made me shiver and sway

My soul was left a jittering mess

Tumbling into a sick, hellish abyss

My heart landed in the basement

And there is no consolation

Nor any chance for denial

My eyes are swollen from crying

Everybody knows that something's wrong

I never was any good at hiding behind a mask

This is the worst, the absolute worst

Because not only are there no expectations for recovery

There's nothing left of what you were in your head

Although the curtain's not yet drawn on vital functions

The obituary for your soul's been read

I thought it might be whiskey that would take you in the end

She was the one mistress you had trouble resisting

Because she temporarily quieted the voices of self-doubt

That screamed behind your placid demeanor

Quiet people have the loudest minds

I loved yours

Love it still

Love it always

Cie and Mo

for

Malcolm

Writing Prompts:

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

The Reverie

Cross-Posted to:
Dream About Me Sweet Brother
(Warning: Blog contains explicit, unapologetic slash/erotic gay fiction)
KHEL 666
Poetry of the Netherworld
Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

Notes:

Morella La Muerte (Mo) is the primary writer on the first poem, The Real Cie is the primary writer on the second.

Mo wanted to use the words from both Wordles but became overwhelmed. She emailed Cie asking for advice. We've been collaborating since five this morning! Three point five hours in, we've finally got it cooked to delicious imperfection.

Delicious imperfection could also describe the subject of the poem, although that sounds kind of lecherous. We actually are referring to his personality. He was flawed, but extremely well-intentioned. He created wonderful things without knowing just how wonderful they were. He was also extremely hard on himself. He never measured up to his own exacting standards.

I doubt we'll ever stop writing about this situation. We certainly will never stop thinking that it's a steaming pile of crap on the part of the Universe. We'd have been sad to have the man killed off, but to destroy his mind on top of it, that's fucking insult to injury. His was a beautiful mind. The world has been robbed of a real treasure.

Ignoring the fact that we have to get a spotlight over here because Angus is taking off his clothes again, could we just for a moment pause and ponder the absolutely solid foundation of this very tasty blues-rock number?

Angus spoke about his admiration for Malcolm's style in a January 2014 article from Guitar World:

"Sometimes I look at Malcolm while he's playing, and I'm completely awestruck by the sheer power of it. He's doing something much more unique than what I do-with that raw, natural sound of his. People like Malcolm, Steve Cropper, Chuck Berry and Keith Richards-they're all doing something better than the rest of us. I can't deny that Eric Clapton's and Eddie Van Halen's lead stuff has influenced a stack of people, but for me it's the rhythm thing that's way more impressive and important to a band.

Malcolm is a big inspiration to me; he keeps me on my feet. Even when I'm tired from running around the stage for two hours, I'll look back at what he's doing and it gives me that boot up the backside I sometimes need."

Absolutely.

What a great loss, not only to the world of music, but to the world as a whole.

Photoshop manip by Cie

Original Eye in the Sky image:

Copyright: zadvinskiy / 123RF Stock Photo

Perched on the Edge Of...

Perched on the Edge Of...

It seems to you that I’m perched on the edge of sanity

It may be cool to be callous

But I never got mistaken for cool very often

Maybe I’m dense

But I can’t understand

Why something so bad

Happened to someone so good

You don’t get what you deserve

You get what you get

I still want to know why

So I’m gonna keep asking

Until I understand

And I’m never going to understand

Until the day I die

Because I’m not perched on the edge of omniscience

Or I’d figure out how

To give him back his mind

~Cie~

Also sharing at The Reverie, where the prompt was to write a poem based on a news story.

 For those who don't know the background on this, Malcolm Young, the founder and rhythm guitarist for AC/DC, has been placed in a long term care facility. He has Lewy Body Dementia. His short term memory is gone. He can't remember events that transpired mere minutes ago, and he doesn't know the people he loves best.

Cie's Notes:

To the person who (rudely) asked if this is now the Malcolm Young blog.

Yes. It is. Now go away.

I honestly don't write serious poetry unless I'm depressed or feeling something very deeply. I tend to write ridiculous stuff most of the time.

I'm feeling this very deeply.

Malcolm Young meant a lot to me, and to a lot of other people. Mostly, of course, to his family and friends, who are now deprived of his presence thanks to a horrifying disease.

I am not kidding when I say that he saved my life. My bipolar disorder was not properly diagnosed until I was nearly 40. I was badly bullied in my youth. Malcolm gave people the gift of something to take their mind off their troubles, and of being someone who was just a regular person who happened to make music that reached a lot of people. He was never a "rock star." He was just a really nice guy who happened to be a musician.

Malcolm struggled with addiction (alcohol) and depression during his life. So I related to him on that level too. I never became addicted to any substances, but I did drink heavily for quite some time. I also have a tendency towards other addictive behaviors, such as shopping and gambling.

I honestly don't think I'd be reacting this way if I found out he had cancer. I really don't think I'd be reacting this way even if I heard that he'd committed suicide. I'd be sad--demolished even--but it wouldn't leave me with the same sick to the core of my soul feeling that this does. 

With the disease he has, he's already gone, but his body is still walking around. That is the most messed up shit ever. I hate dementia. I hate how it destroys lives. I hate how it destroyed this amazing life. I hate that he can't remember the things that are most important to him. 

If you want to read my further thoughts on this matter, you can go here.

Deadly Infection

Evil man

Fickle to the core

You infect me with desire

Then tear your love away

I must have misinterpreted your intent

I must have been drunk on the nectar of your kisses

I thought I was safe in the womb of your arms

The coldness of your heart chills me to the marrow

I believed we were together in another life

That we had been lovers since ancient times

But the ritual which drew you back into my life

Must have been an evil one

I now want only to fly away like the sparrow

To hide in hibernation from the world

No wine nor drug nor holistic herb

Will ever heal the scars you left upon my soul

~Gretyll~

Written for The Reverie

The Words:

Marrow from Desiree

Fickle from Faycin

Hibernation from Ann

Infect from Mel

Misinterpreted from Serins

Holistic from Staci

Sparrow from Franz

Nectar from Mark

Ancient from Crow

Ritual from Hasty

Womb from Laura

Creeping Desire

Copyright: katalinks / 123RF Stock Photo

Creeping Desire

I told you to get away from my window

So you crept into my dreams

You acted so sweet and filled with love

But with you, nothing is as it seems

You promised you'd come back to me

But you never returned

Night after night I waited for you

Not wanting to believe I'd been spurned

You used me when you felt empty

Tossed me aside when you had your fill

I died from longing for your fickle love

They buried me on the hill

But even in death you couldn't allow me to rest

Nor allow my spirit to roam in peace

You have no compassion in your cold heart

Nor respect for the deceased

You caused my cold form to rise and walk

A fiend from beyond the grave

With wicked sorcery you bound me to you

You tried to make me your unliving slave

But one day I got tired of serving a man

Who cared not a thing for me

Who wanted only to have me serve at his whim

I was determined that I would be free

I broke the spell you held over me

I took back my life

When you knew you no longer had me in your power

You begged me to become your wife

You can't fool me any more

Your piercing eyes can't hypnotize

You can't charm me or make me weak in the knees

Because I recognize all of your lies

I once thought the sun rose and set on you

I once did anything to please

But now I'm over and done and through with you

I've risen up off my knees

I thought you were so smooth and seductive

But now you make me sick

I need a man who uses his heart and his brain

Not one who thinks with his dick

No more greasy, sour vampire

Promising the world till he's had his fun

Your words are transparent like the glass of the window

Where I now let in the sun

~Faycin A Croud~

Just a little something for Halloween

Written for The Reverie

Thirty-One

Copyright: joophoek / 123RF Stock Photo

The year I turned 31

Our oldest girl turned ten

Our middle daughter turned six

And our baby girl turned three

That year marked my twelfth wedding anniversary

And the fifteenth anniversary of being a couple

Some folks think I did things too fast

That I got married and had babies too young

That at thirty-one, I had too much on my plate

Maybe that would be the case

For some who did things the way I did

But for me, it turned out just right

For Seth and me, it wasn't just desire

We were friends before we fell in love

We've been the best of friends through everything

And I think that's why it works

He never felt I tied him down or trapped him

We supported each other through school

We both changed diapers 

We took turns staying up at night through teething

Eventually, we both finished our education

I ended up a nurse

He, a high school counselor

Nothing fancy, but something that felt right

Just like our house

And the cars we drive

Some say he's too tall and skinny and I'm too short and fat

But I think we're just right

I thought so when I was thirty-one

I still think so today

And I think I will on every birthday yet to come

~Sadie~

Written for The Reverie