Wow, Gravastorm, can't believe it, that is absolutely fabulous.

I'm "proud" if I can just get an emoticon to show up, ha.
Loved your poems.. send us more!!
:)

Shiraz,
just as deep as the the first 2 stanzas. Your words and the grief behind them are both very profound. This kind of identity work you are struggling with is VERY strenuous emotionally, isn't it? I have wrestled(unsuccessfully) with similar issues as well. I hope you find some peace.
Void

Thank you. It's good to know that the scree of my mind can touch another's.

Sorry if that old website is full of fail. Here I put them up on a new one:

http://sites.google.com/site/gravastorm/Home

Found it, loved it, bookmarked it so I can read them all.

I used to write in a similar style but alas no more can I create! I have major writers block from my last few traumas. I miss it but, you inspire me a little bit. Like I can feel that spark there but can't quite reach it right now. So who knows? Maybe someday I will write again.

Thank you for sharing your beautiful creativity with us. It has truly touched my soul.

Best wishes, Morgan

OLD LANG ZINE

The invitation read:
Reunion class of '39
Family clambake
Hell's Belly by boat
R.S.V.P Commodore

Yachts and yawls plowed the swells
And wind fluffed the sparkling spray.
While tiny white caps bobbed to the sky,
dancing like fairy surfers on the deep.
And the Keep-Safe kinder of the Kind-Ones
Squealed with delight as they landed
On Hell's Belly Light.

The sun glowed a dusking
As we lit the driftwood pile.
Atop the long abandoned tower
Burning like an awesome orange flower,
Sparks cascading over the top in sudden streaks,
As if they were a trapped and grounded fireworks display.


Oh, why am I so scared-
So quiet, so full of fright,
In the dying day and blazing light.

As the darkness falls,
The edges disappear-
Sky and sea retreating
In the gloaming they are eating.


Scalded fingers digging through the hot seaweed,
I bring up corn and clams, lobster and scallops.
Four for you and one for me.
I hid potatoes, only potatoes
Under me deep in the sand.
Everything else was counted.

Oh, why am I so scared-
As I strain to hear-
So quiet without flight
Arrested by the night.


The Kind Ones sing soft lullabies
To their little ones all wrapped in plaid
Soon gentled down to sleep,
Rocked in tender cradles
By the smoothing deep.

They bob in tethered dinghies,
Watched over and secure.
The sand's sweet shushing
Safe, safe,you are safe for sure.
The Keep-Safe children of the Kind One's sleep.

"Beware," hissed the lights of old
Raking the night with their orbits bold.
"Stay Clear- Danger Here!
Beware the deadly shoals.
Sail clear, steer away, don't come near."

And still the beacon calls...
"Come one, come all
To the Hell's Belly Ball.
On the second night, surprises,
Children of all sizes'
Better than door prizes
Out on Hell's Belly Light
Tommorrow night.

The child traders
Will come a dancin'
And the slaps of flesh on flesh,
Unlike hands a clappin'
Will come from rutting men.
And the smothered screams of facedown children
Will rend the night.
The steady glow of cigarettes
Menace me like many cyclopes stares
I am a tethered cast away.
With no Kind Ones of my own.
No one to take me home.

I must belong to hell
To live while little angels die.
I guess they are not practiced.
They have not learned to lie.
Little as they are, they just don't know
Not to scream with every thrust.
You can only breath if you are silent.
Only screamers smother in the sand.
"Good girl," is all I'll wishper to myself.
"Good girl, good girl, good girl, to keep the rhythm,
Crude and rough.

If only fear could hold back tomorrow
Then it would be safe to watch for dawn.
Then the laughing families row away
And breakfast is all gone,
They'll leave only smells amidst the smolder
And soon, before I get much older....


"We'll take a cup of kindness yet,"
Is what they sang before they sailed away.
"In days of Old Lang Zine."
What magic did that cup contain-
How quickly I did the greasy sands
Awe struck, to gather those black grinds.
It must have been a potent cup
To hold the kindness of their tender ways-
Their Keep-Safe tender ways.

Oh, how I prayed to Old Lang Zine
The day the sailed away.
"And surely you will lose your life.
And surely I'll lose mine
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
In days of Old Lang Zine."

Mercy,

WOW and again I say WOW!!!

I honor your courage. I honor your gift. May each ounce of pain you release be replaced with a ton of soothing peace.

to you!!!
Void

I ditto Void--Wow! And wishing you peace, also
skyp

Thank you both. I was afraid that writing out my witness and experience of child exploitation would make some people not want to know about it or me. I know it is hard for some of you all to face that it happens at all. Thanks for your kind wishes for peace.

What a powerful poem.

Her hair was up in a pony tail,

her favourite dress tied with a bow.

Today was Daddy's Day at school,

and she couldn't wait to go.



But her mummy tried to tell her,

that she probably should stay home.

Why the kids might not understand,

if she went to school alone.


But she was not afraid;

she knew just what to say.

What to tell her classmates

of why he wasn't there today.


But still her mother worried,

for her to face this day alone.

And that was why once again,

she tried to keep her daughter home.


But the little girl went to school

eager to tell them all.

About a dad she never sees

a dad who never calls.




There were daddies along the back wall,

for everyone to meet.

Children squirming impatiently,

anxious in their seats


One by one the teacher called

a student from the class.

To introduce their daddy,

as seconds slowly passed.


At last the teacher called her name,

every child turned to stare.

Each of them was searching,

a man who wasn't there.


'Where's her daddy at?'

She heard a boy call out.

'She probably doesn't have one,'

another student dared to shout.


And from somewhere near the back,

she heard a daddy say,

'Looks like another deadbeat dad,

too busy to waste his day.'



The words did not offend her,

as she smiled up at her Mum.

And looked back at her teacher,

who told her to go on.





And with hands behind her back,

slowly she began to speak.

And out from the mouth of a child,

came words incredibly unique.


'My Daddy couldn't be here,

because he lives so far away.

But I know he wishes he could be,

since this is such a special day.


And though you cannot meet him,

I wanted you to know.

All about my daddy,

and how much he loves me so.


He loved to tell me stories

he taught me to ride my bike.

He surprised me with pink roses,

and taught me to fly a kite.


We used to share fudge sundaes,

and ice cream in a cone.

And though you cannot see him.

I'm not
standing here alone.


'Cause my daddy's always with me,

even though we are apart

I know because he told me,

he'll forever be in my heart'





With that, her little hand reached up,

and lay across her chest.

Feeling her own heartbeat,

beneath her favourite dress.






And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,

her mother stood in tears.

Proudly watching her daughter,

who was wise beyond her years.


For she stood up for the love

of a man not in her life.

Doing what was best for her,

doing what was right.



And when she dropped her hand back down,

staring straight into the crowd.

She finished with a voice so soft,

but its message clear and loud.


'I love my daddy very much,

he's my shining star.

And if he could, he'd be here,

but heaven's just too far.


You see he is a soldier

And died just this past year

When a roadside bomb hit his convoy

and taught brave men to fear.


But sometimes when I close my eyes,

it's like he never went away.'

And then she closed her eyes,

and saw him there that day.


And to her mother's amazement,

she witnessed with surprise.

A room full of daddies and children,

all starting to close their eyes.


Who knows what they saw before them,

who knows what they felt inside.

Perhaps for merely a second,

they saw him at her side.


'I know you're with me Daddy,'

to the silence she called out.

And what happened next made believers,

of those once filled with doubt.


Not one in that room could explain it,

for each of their eyes had been closed.

But there on the desk beside her,

was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.


And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,

by the love of her shining star.

And given the gift of believing,

that heaven is never too far.