Herein, Lies
A Foundation of Childhood
“Herein, lies your hope,” we were told and taught.
Then fed only chains and shackles so they could claim our captivity came from within ourselves.
Freedom was promised; Dangled before us as the goal; The prize at the end. As a greyhound runs the track laid out for it, never swerving for fear of consequences, chasing the rabbit that will never be his.
Questions discouraged. Doubts denied. Shame an ever ready and useful weapon. Held tightly, never to stray.
Captivity named freedom. Control named love.
Herein, lies of hope.
About the Creator
Carmen Henigin
I love to travel, adventure and exploring. Turns out, I also love writing. I recently published my first book "A Depressed Woman's Sarcastic Take on Life," and am working on several others! I look forward to learning from other writers!
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Pornographic Venn Diagramming
It's all performative, all damned to death and back. Born we are into this system of crippled development. Portrayed as enlightenment, but the reality is anything but. . I have long rallied against such realities, despite the burial of my past innocence, forgotten sanctity. . I wrote down some thoughts: . Well hallelujah Spread thin Tongue twisting tautogrammic takes of trauma and triumph Male shame and toxicity mixed with a little alienation and Oh oh the resentment Wafer thin . Xenophobia and the hardened husk of hatred and illegitimate anger and distrust we have become . . Desperation . . The secret language of the sextape . . Pornographic Venn diagramming . The shame, oh the . Shame? . Generation after generation closed off and colder . Heart unresponsive as the irresponsible as the moral vocal cords for the majority . . Minorities kerbed, chided . . We become the grotesque we loathe . . All our yesterdays forgotten The abstract replaces the grounded In an instant . . We become the loathsome grotesque . . All our tomorrows forgotten The grounded replaces the pure In an instant . . We become the grotesque we loathe . . I have become that which I hate. As I bring down the hammer of the gods of inconsequence and their wards, the stupid and stationary, I feel the shame. . . Shame? . . Slàinte. . . Merci beaucoup Oui, oui Ventus, ventus. . . Lilith adores. Diana engorges the might of Artemis and the cynicism of Perseus. . . As I look to the mirror and dismay shoots through like a sgian-dubh of truth, claidheamh-mòr, I lift my Lochaber axe and punish the impure because I dare not face my own. Targe laid down. The dirk plunges into my neck by the phantom of reason. . . Fire. Fire. Fire. . . Water. Ice. . . Novocaine. . . Any D&D players available.Start writing...
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Poets
Comments (10)
This is top story! They will put us in cages at the end. I have a cave on the mountain ready. I want to be free, even a few hours, but really free.
Congratulations on Top Story!
Very interesting. Still pondering.
Interesting
'Captivity named freedom. Control named love.' Every so often you stumble upon a line that sticks with you. This one is so good.
Wow, congrats.
Very moving, thank you for sharing.
Nice work!
Beautifully written and ringing with truth!
What an poignant and profound poem. Congratulations on Top Story.