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TheRuthieRose

Let the mermaids in my teacup distract us for a while

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liberation

The Roaring Poet 

His messages are boldly written

With blunt honesty, raw, but true

He protests against the damage done

Tales of the wronged, the violated, me, you

Calling out to the abandoned and alone

Uniting the invisible and too often unheard

He joins their inner war, draws his microphone

And voices their struggle, screaming it word for word

He withstands ignorance and falling often on deaf ears

His sound branded violent, aggressive, satanic, lewd

Standing strong, he repeats their message, sees them rise against the leers

A misjudged warrior for the chaotic liberation of the subdued.

The Anchor

Whistling winds echo towards you from every, and no direction
Enhancing your isolating abyss of desert sand and heat
Disrupted only by the clanking of the chains, the infliction
Shackled around your neck, and dragging at your feet.

With each mile you gain, it sinks deeper,
Growing heavier in your wake
The way forward, you know, holds many more miles
Which seem to multiply, each step you take.

There is no map you are following, or promised reward at the end
Only this direction you have chosen, and from it you will not bend

You slow to a complete halt, taking in a laboured breath,
And with courage, you turn to face what you were dragging
Something you have not done yet

Dropping to your knees, you begin to pull at the chains
One arm’s length after the next
Armed with only the self-belief that remains,
Your struggle ends now. Now, you soul finds rest.

As it is drawn, the chains’ hue fades, becoming less opaque
They become easier and easier to pull from the sand,
Freeing an anchor of clear crystal, delicate enough to break,
Weightless, it shatters in your hand.

Rid yourself of this burden, you do not need it,
Go now, in any direction you choose,
Your mind is no prisoner, you have freed it,
Its only by doubting yourself, that you can lose.

 

 

 

 

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