Tag Archives: pain

These Eyes

When I look into my eyes…I see the tears of millions cry;

the poor, the hungry, the misunderstood, the banished, the brave,

the lost souls who died during the famine, the clearances, the killings,

all of their pain is still in my suffering.

Do we really get over the evils of the past? Does the damage done to our forefathers within our fibers last? Why do I feel so deeply for a land I’ve never been? Why do I weep when I hear the pipes sing a mournful tune to me?

Does somewhere in my soul recall the pain of starvation and lost when the coffin ships came? Does somewhere in this young heart of mine remember the murders, rapes and misdeeds done to those so long ago? Does somewhere in my memory does revenge and hatred grow-for those whom I’ve never known.

When I look into my eyes…I see the tears of millions cry.

the poor, the hungry, the misunderstood, the banished, the brave,

the lost souls who died during the famine, the clearances, the killings,

all of their pain is still in my suffering…because what is left of those millions

are these eyes of mine!

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To Fear

Last night made me weary, my auld fears oh so dreary. In tatters my ragged soul hangs and repair it not, can one again!Repeat NO more of your imagined woes, those untrue tales to scare your foes. I’m tired of your sickening breath, and all your visions of morbidity and death which you thrust upon me.

I’m not your puppet, servant nor slave, so ne’er come near me with those tormented musings. Tis now-you see I’m suppose to live, to relish the wine, the whiskey, my kin, but your vile presence haunts me as you mercilessly taunt me and banish you…OH I wish I could.

Nae! My hearts too sick and poor to banish a monster whose no more than a fool.

You hideous beast, you find yourself keen to wash me in worry and terrorize my dreams, but all ye are is a scared little mouse. A disease that can’t kill or deform your chosen spouse.
You force them to wander, you drive them to terror as pictures of plenty scatter like hair! What is there to gain in your sick, twisted passion? A sadistic desire to watch your victims be phantoms? Is suffering your weapon of choice I assume and fear of oneself is the method you use.

You take normal people and consume them with dread, hang nooses above them when they wish they were dead.  To fulfill your sad need to be destructive and strong you enslave forgotten souls and drag them along, through ideas and visions and dreams full of gore while waiting for them to collapse with exhaustion on the floor.

As that noose up above hangs unattended those driven to madness are tempted to use it.

Your voice hisses louder and excitement arises. That noose you’ve hung shall soon be used for what it was intended. To kill and to maim. To shatter our lives while you’re running off with the prize which is our lives.

You wait for this moment-its coming you see. All that you’ve worked for is wrapped up in me but alas! I’m sorry that noose is ne’er for me. I’m cutting loose, from you and this noose. Now please set me free!

 

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