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Archive for the ‘poetry about abuser’ Category

The following comment was left on 2010/09/02 at 2:42 pm against another post and I wanted to share it on its own:

I was in an abusive relationship for 3 years and he abused me in all aspects. I found the will the leave him when he attempted to hit me while I was 3 months pregnant with our son. At that moment, I couldn’t leave for myself, but I could leave for my baby and I was gone the next week. It’s been a difficult journey because I still see this man and speak to him because of the child we share. He has continued to be verbally, emotionally and once even physically abusive to me in front of our son. We go to court at the end of the month and I’m praying the court will see the kind of man he is and will help me in protecting myself and my son. I wrote the following poem depicting my journey and my realization. I could only be his victim as long as I allowed myself to be and I refuse to be his victim. I hope you all enjoy this poem:

-NO MORE- By Ashley P.
A life that has for so long been controlled by manipulation and fear, So many times left broken and in tears.
Broken bones and bruises followed by promises allowed to heal, Names and accusations, confusion at the appeal.
Was it really appeal, or just a distorted view?
A victim of the lies, a victim of “I don’t know what to do”.
Attempts to do what’s right, attempts to inspire change,
Feelings of defeat when things remained the same.
A will to be happy, a will to stand fear in the face,
Determination to finally escape this dreadful place.
Emergence out of darkness, finally able to see the light,
Finally the courage to stand up and fight the fight.
No more being afraid, no more running away,
No more looking back and living like yesterday.
No! no more being afraid, not one more excuse,
No longer a victim, but a survivor of abuse.

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The following comment was left for another post and I wanted to share it with you to comment: 2010/09/26 at 6:57 pm

I am survivor. I have been out of the relationship since June 2010. I was hospitalized for the most recent incident in June with a fractured lumbar spine and multiple contusions to my face/head. Two black eyes, both lips fat, broken nose and other numerous bruises over my body. If I didn’t hide in the woods he would have killed me. He is in jail and the trial is starting September 30th. I saw the evidence pictures for the first time 3 days ago. When I saw the pictures of what he had done to me, it became real. Up until then it all seemed like a dream. The court is saying that this is one of the most heinous crimes against another person they have seen in a very long time. As hard as it was to see the pictures, they gave me a sense of empowerment. I do not want to be labeled as a victim, I want to be labeled as a survivor. I am thinking of starting my own blog to share my story and to inform people of the court process & things like that. I am ready to share my story with the world. You may contact me if you would like to at ( i.am.a.survivor1984@gmail.com )

” I will no longer hide these wounds of mine. I will bear them gracefully. They tell a resurrection story.”

Ntozake Shange, “sorry”

one thing i don’t need
is any more apologies
i got sorry greetin me at my front door
you can keep yrs
i don’t know what to do wit em
they dont open doors
or bring the sun back
they dont make me happy
or get a mornin paper
didnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars
cuz a sorry

i am simply tired
of collectin
i didnt know
i was so important to you
i’m gonna haveta throw some away
i cant get to the clothes in my closet
for alla the sorries
i’m gonna tack a sign to my door
leave a message by the phone
‘if you called to say yr sorry
call somebody else
i dont use em anymore’
i let sorry/ didnt meanta/ & how cd i know abt that
take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn
i’m gonna do exactly what i want to
& i wont be sorry for none of it
letta sorry soothe yr soul/ i’m gonna soothe mine

you were always inconsistent
doin somethin & then bein sorry
beatin my heart to death
talkin bout you sorry
well
i will not call
i’m not goin to be nice
i will raise my voice
& scream & holler
& break things
& race the engine
& tell all yr secrets bout yrself to yr face
& i will list in detail everyone of my wonderful lovers
& their ways
i will play oliver lake
loud
& i wont be sorry for none of it

i loved you on purpose
i was open on purpose
i still crave vulnerability
& close talk
& i’m not even sorry
bout you bein sorry
you can carry all the guilt
& grime ya wanna
just dont give it to me
i cant use another sorry
next time
you should admit
you’re mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out
steada bein sorry alla the time
enjoy bein yrself.

” Do you not know you are God’s temple and that God’s spirit dwells in you? If any one destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and that temple you are”. ( 1 Cor. 3: 16-17)

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This was emailed to me some years ago and I just came across it.

The reader wrote:

I thought this poem might benefit men who need to get on the right path. No reply is needed.

As A boy

As a boy I watched in horror
As my father hit my mother
I could do nothing for her
I swore I’d never pass that on
To my wife, my daughter and son
I thought what I always tried to do
Was give my heart and soul to you
I am humble and broken
Not just for the words I have spoken
I face judgment by an accuser
That like my father, I am an abuser
So much many drinks
Such a wrong way to think
Turn kisses into terror
To the very ones I care for
My accuser is the love of my life
Her forgiveness cuts me like a knife
My children miss their daddy
I’m gone awhile, I say sadly
When the anger swells in my soul
My cherished ones feel the toll
Now the life I want and love
Teeters on the abyss needing a small shove
I make the choice to end the violence
My anger will be silenced
I won’t even open the door
To take that bottle and pour
The fist I raised in anger
Brought me to the manger
Where the Son of God was born
For this sin He was scorned
To die for the very reason
That my life is in this season
God hear my cry
See me with Your eyes
I want to go home where my true love waits
Where my children wonder why I am late
God, my King with all my heart
I thank You for this new start
My love you have my word
On the wings of eagles we will soar
And the darkness is nevermore
This is to God and my Wife

written by JI as he did not state he wanted his name used.

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IM THE HOUSE

I’m known as the house
Filled with love and happiness…
With a loving mom and dad
Children playing, making a mess…
Many loving years went by
Then mom and dad passed away…
The grown kids all married
The house was sold today…
It seemed in a short time
A new family moved in…
Although something about them gave
Me such a bad feeling…
Nothing was like before, when
The arguments started within days…
The threats, the violence daily
No love, I’m so amazed…
My walls absorbed the echoes
Of her nightly frightened screams…
Hate filled every inch of
My house, so it seems…
Her blood permanently stained my
Once beautiful wooden floors…
Then there are the fist-holes
Damaging my once antique doors…
My staircase once so loving
Polished to a beautiful shine…
Blood-soaked from him beating her
When filled with his wine…
My windows would constantly rattle
With the level of his wrath…
I fear I will never
Recover from his violent aftermath…
Now, there is no love
In the terror filled home…
After him killer her than himself
I’m once again all alone…
For years a loving house
Family loved day and night…
But now I’ll be remembered
Only as the crime-scene site…

Poem was printed with permission from the talented author
Angela Hutcherson-Jenkins

she offers many poetry books free to download and hardcopies for sale at  lulu.com/xeson

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Tommy’s Daddy

The first grade teacher explained,
Daddies are different, none the same,
“Tommy, tells us about your dad”…
Wanting to refused he got mad…
Mommy told him never to say..
But teacher said he had to today…
Knowing he’d be in trouble if he ran…
Looking at teacher, he quietly began…
My daddy is huge, tall and strong…
Says everything mommy does is wrong…
Hits my mommy, makes her cry…
Most everyday I don’t know why…
Knocks her down on the floor…
She hit her head on the door…
Says he’d find her if we leave…
Claims he loves us, I don’t believe…
Leaves bruises all over her face…
Said, if I told, I’d get a taste…
Room got quiet, for they knew…
This isn’t what their daddies do …

Poem was printed with permission from the talented author
Angela Hutcherson-Jenkins

she offers many poetry books free to download and hardcopies for sale at  lulu.com/xeson

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I wrote this poem six months ago when someone pointed out that our first real relationship sets the tone for future relationships…it made me think of my first relationship at the age of 15 which lasted 3 years…and this person sadly lingered for an additional 3 years in my life on and off…I was searching for somewhere to share it and came across this site…I hope it helps someone…

Abuse and lies…no more…I am worth it!
by Luz Barbosa
http://luzestela.tumblr.com/
http://luzestela.tumblr.com/

he tells me not to look that way
he tells me not to dress that way
he tells me not to talk that way
he tells me not to act that way

he smacks me
he tells me I better shut up or else
he tells me I am worthless
he tells me my no’s are meaningless
he doesn’t care that I don’t want to or that I am crying

he tells me he loves me
he tells me I am his and I will always be, that he owns me
he tells me no one will ever love me like he does

he tells me I am stupid
he tells me I am a hoe
he tells me he will kill me

he sucks the life out of me

I finally had enough
I could not continue to live this way
I realized these were all lies
I decided this behavior was unacceptable
I finally got out

I was young
I didn’t know any better
I kept it to myself
I was ashamed
I lived in fear

I refuse to be controlled
I refuse be abused
I refuse to end up dead

I deserve to be safe
I deserve respect
I deserve to be loved
I deserve to be happy
I deserve to be free to be me
I deserve to be treated well

I am worth it!

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the following was sent to me by the author, it is very vivid. Thank you Ghostwing.

Love & Peace,
Rebecca

I WAIT

I wait:
For you to get home, hoping that you’ll be in a good mood, knowing that in the end, it won’t make a difference.

I wait:
Watching you, all the while knowing that you’ll scream at me then push, hit, poke, punch, slap me before the night is over.

I wait:
For you to see that you have beaten love to a pulp and it doesn’t live in this house anymore, if it ever did. I “thought” I had it in the beginning, until, too late, I realized it was just a way for you to “lure” those like me.

I wait:
Wondering why you “keep” apologizing for the pain you “keep” giving and “keep” giving and “keep” giving. Please get “tired” of giving me “your” love early tonight. I need some more time to “recover” from last night’s “pain orgy”.

I wait:
Shrinking from the inevitable pain you start giving me now that you’ve knocked me to the floor. The shoes that I bought for you with my “real blood”, “fear sweat”, and many tears kick me as I look up at the “smiling anger” on your face and wonder why is “killing me” bringing you such abnormal satisfaction.

I wait:
Wishing some passerby outside the house would hear my “screams” and your “shouts” thru the broken windows and be compassionate enough to get involved just long enough to save my life by calling 911.

I wait:
Inspecting my body to see if I’m damaged enough to go to the Hospital, my only “safe oasis” away from you. I lie to them for “your” sake and safety all the while praying that I can “stay” for mine.

I wait:
In the car, waiting for you to start the engine so I can hear the radio and tune out you telling me it’s all “my” fault. AGAIN! And, you’re so right, huh. Do you really expect me to believe that this is what “I” made you do”?

I wait:
Hating the fact that you still expect me to do things for you, with this “new” cast on my “old” broken arm, after we get to that torture chamber you call “home”

I wait:
Counting the minutes that tick by slowly, contemplating whether or not the sleeping pills I crushed and poured in your drink will keep you knocked-out long enough for me to get some sleep after I cry in peace.

I wait:
To get into the passing lane on the “interstate” in the car donated to me by a “friend” and a trunk packed with items on the “safety plan” they gave me.

I wait:
NO MORE! NO MORE! now
I “escape”! I “survive”! I “RISE”!
…♥ ♥ ♥ {GhostWing

http://www.facebook.com/GhostWing
Your only FEAR should be the CHOICES you make.

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