creative

The Beast Inside...

The beast inside…

© 2017 SachikoMochiko " Sachi Ruaya

 

What’s worse than killing someone? Leaving them suffering alive. Now, whether or not they suffer is up to them…

 

Cracks…that’s how the light comes in.

 

You found that someone,

Who you deem; is the last piece of you

O’ but that one…that other one just "

How long will your grip hold?

 

 

It’s a dark feeling; jealousy

Where green, grey and black swirls weave your heart

Like steel, poison ivy 

 

 

As your blood curdles and boils,

your red-laced eyes eyeball

That one who touched your precious

 

 

Your precious gem that you admire from afar.

Your precious one, who births a hazy warm chest.

Your precious half…the other fading half of you.

 

 

But you refrain from killing

And instead of making arrangements to prey,

You keep that one alive  but suffering from your fangs

 

Your inner beast lurks inside,

already devoured half of you and yourself.

Its true form will not feast unless you do

 

 

Your fangs…its fangs bite, drawing thick, oozy blood

Of the one you hold captive in your prison

All for that one precious one, you shed blood

 

 

Your bite…your torture…your beast

Is a reflection of the steel, poison ivy

Is a being born from your selfishness…your jealousy

 

 

But you continue to feast even when you know

Know that this beast will soon consume your flesh, Bone-clean

Because pleasure will come from ones’ suffering

 

 

You are blinded by the beast; your scarlet eyes see no more,

the beauty of your precious gem…

BlurryVivid. Pitch-black.

 

 

You have lost sight of your intentions,

And your precious gem’s light is no more

Now, you know: You. Are. Devoured.

 

 

You sit there on the bottom of the beast’s stomach

Living with the pure darkness of your own

Alone. With your crackling, dry heart -unable to love

 

 

After all, you were just blind.

Destined to lurk in darkness.

 

 

Emptiness. Your skin slowly peels off from the dry darkness

Slowly…painfully, in this prison, the veil is ripped

Revealing something undeniably powerful

 

You.

 

 

The bleeding wounds of which the skin is peeled

Thus, shunned the lies and unveils the truth

The truth of you embedded inside -within the beast

 

The light suppresses the dry darkness 

With your passion, memories, joy and love

You slice through the belly…striving for freedom once more!

 

 

Author’s Note: 

 

This is one of the small fragments to ready one of my upcoming masterpiece. I will write more poems like this (having the same motivational force). WORRY is next.



 
 

© 2017 SachikoMochiko

Author's Notes/Comments: 
This is one of the "practice" poems so I can produce a higher quality work for a special someone of mine:)

Gosh...my punctuation is bad. Just like any other poems I post here, it ain't finished. Still more reviewing to be done. But overall, I hope you enjoy XD

=

Jealousy, eh? Just a quick note, any poem I write is nearly always based off of my true feelings and recent events/emotions. 
"I thought it was good but felt it would be better if it was a story...it feels like your using a lot of words which is good but feel it would make an amazing story if it had a bit more body in it... not sure what type of criticism you wanted. I think you would be amazing at writing stories I’m not being negative I agree with what the person below said just think it’s more story like xx" - Simba
"Raw and honest.Outstanding imagery in words and visuals. I can picture you in my head, shouting these words at the person this story is intended for. My only little critique is that there are more than a few harsh words used that I would have replaced with something different. He's not returning your love but you can't force someone to do so. Other than that brilliant as always I look forward to the rest of the story " Thedeus Hobbs

The Beauty in Love & Art

I doubted I would find real, mutual love for the longest time.

That is only because I've looked in the wrong places and have fallen hard every time I thought

I found a missing part of me.

 

The problem with me is I don't fit in when I'm in any other group.

All around me in my daily life, I end up doing things I didn't want to do.

My life is getting stuck between a rock and a hard place when I choose

To be something I feel is right for me.

 

You're not hard to please for you are a fellow artist who shares my passion and attraction.

We color each other's worlds and we help each other out when we need it the most.

I give you my passion and you give it back in return.

We are not dependent on one another because we can take care of ourselves.

 

The sea leads to many places and although I have not landed where I needed to go,

You found me and led me in the right direction.

With you and me together, "lost" has no meaning.

We are simply taking our time to get to where we need to be.

 

The forsaken world and everything that was wrong with it will be far behind

Once I leave what destroyed me before and look for who I am.

The chains that keep me from breathing no longer exist

When I am somewhere else in the consciousness hidden within.

 

The art I color is vital to me as taking a breath.

Likewise, the more we are next to each other,

The more I see how selfless and warmhearted you are.

 

The way you treat me thaws my own heart until there is a flame that surrounds it.

A flame that only burns when you and I continue to bond.

Only you can see and feel how special it is to me that you make me feel that way.

I dream of us meeting face to face so we can make our artistic worlds come to life.

 

You teach me many things that I hold onto in my life.

Being with you helps me resist temptation that hinders my goals.

Speaking my tongue to you helps me become wiser in knowing the right things to say.

Presenting my own art to you helps me gain the courage to keep blossoming until my colors bloom like summer flowers.

More importantly, revealing my hopes and dreams to you gave me the escape from misery I longed to achieve.

 

In return for your kindness, I give you my passion and complete our missing soul.

To truly build up trust, all we have to do for each other is stay and that's what I will do for you.

The Journey- Lost In Time

The Journey-Lost In Time

 

I look downward at the pavement below me and watch as my feet shuffle onward.
Where they are going i don't know, they move without direction, and i wonder if we are going to the same place, or if they have chosen a different path. and if so will we meet there someday? will we ever cross paths? Maybe our journeys are the same. we will both go somewhere great, but take the long way there. will they get lost? or have i already lost myself? if i ever get there will they be waiting for me? as the days go on another nightfall has come and gone, and i have grown weary. i don't think i will ever get to where my feet have gone, and stuck in time is where i remain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 I cannot sleep unless i get out what i am thinking and feeling in the moment. it's not great but it's mine.

Mi Abuelito Chepe's Poem

I would not be me without him!

The poet before you is because of him!!


For you see, he thought me how to read

and write; a writer himself. I recall mi

abuelito Chepe would write for hours and

at times I would ask him,

“Abuelito, que escribe?” “Mijo escribo

pensamientos!” he replied.


I always thought he had some long thoughts!

However, this is not the way mi abuelito

Chepe’s poem begins—it begins with the

letters “A..E..I..O..U,” the vowels of the

alphabet; the first day we began practicing mi

abuelito Chepe brought a white leather belt to

the dinner table; that’s where we ate, my dad

would pay the bills, and where my abuelo

Chepe thought me my vowels  “A..E..I..O..U’s”


I quickly learned why the white belt?

Mi abuelito Chepe would  pronounce the

vowels once before practice, then I started, “A,”

“La proxima,” mi abuelo Chepe commanded…

I said, “B,” and before I could catch my breath

again, I felt the whip across my back. “Es, E.”

he said.


I started from the beginning again, “A, E, C...”

but as the letter ‘C’ was becoming a sound, I felt

the white belt lingering in the air above, striking

my back like a snakes bite! Or a bumblebee’s

stinger! Then the tears started rolling. “No estes

llorando!” Mi abuelito Chepe directed at me.


“Es para tu propio bien, y porque te quiero te aporrio!”

He added. As far as I can recall that was the first and

only time mi abuelito Chepe  had said to me these

words. “Because he loves me, he discipline me!”

He continues to tell me, “Cuando te apriendas las

vocales bien, las vas a decir haci de rapido, “AEIOU!”

No pauses, or letter breaks, only one long ass vowel,

AEIOU!

 

 After the first practice every practice was the same.

He said, “A.” I would say “P.”—the white belt,

“Yeah, it was there too, it never went unused! Sadly,

I miss the belt, because it reminds me of mi abuelito

Chepe’s strong hands, a leathery feel…harsh, not soft!


When mi abuelo Chepe arrived home from work as a

security guard, he would first put his uniform away,

before he even ate dinner, he would call out to me,

“Sergio, traime el cincho!” “Bring me the belt!” Just

the thought of the whip on my back was enough for

me to shed a tear.


He would be waiting at the dinner table, I would hand

him the belt, and sit next to him; practice began with

‘A’ smile from mi abuelito Chepe, and ended with ‘U’

finding it hard to believe I was reading and writing in

less than two months. It was the fear of Jose Lopez in

me!


In first grade myself and another little girl were the

only two whom knew the ‘A..E..I..O..U’s’ of the

alphabet; the very little we knew, her and I shared

with our classmates.


In the third grade, I wrote six childrens books, which

won a couple of classmates and myself a trip to Ms.

Robin’s home to watch all three of the Star Wars

movies back in 1986…

since that day I have yet to leave heaven!


This could be the Ode’ of Jose Eulalio Lopez-Mejia,

but it wasn’t his commands that made my knees

buckle or the hairs on my neck shiver; it was the

sound of the leather belt breaking wind upon my skin.


The welts it left on my back ached as I lay to sleep,

sometimes I would cry myself to sleep. My days

seemed like neverending, anticipating mi abuelito

Chepe’s arrival from work; practices felt like military

training. He was the General, and I was his cadet.


I thank him for the discipline he bestowed on me back

in the day when I began learning my vowels. I say my

vowels, because I earned them the hard way. I own the

vowels ‘A,E,I,O,U!’

 

I thank my mother for not teaching me my vowels; she

tried but I didn’t listen. So she called her father! Mi

Abuelito Chepe!


Today, I bleed these vowels and the rest of the alphabet

upon pages, napkins, receipts, even dollar bills—

I created an image he laid the foundation for;

Soulcriticpoet... Rise!!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Because of Jose Eulalio Lopez Mejia, I am Sergio Valencia!

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