Rage Risen ( a narrative poem)

 

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Rage Risen

Sometimes,the pain is too much.
Anger and hurt, turn into rage,
as another type of evil,
lurks from its unlocked cage…

People allow pain to come in,
and take them places they’ve never been.
And then there’s regret,
No turning back…
It becomes difficult,
to find a connection
that you can never get…
—————————-
On a late night of storms and deafening thunder,
a couple faced darkness within their own home,
as shouts of misunderstanding and disagreement
rang out in pain.

Outside, the air was growing colder
with the increase of pouring rain.
A tall leggy thin brunette, Leiah,
had almost enough.

Her fiance had been yelling
and was filled with rage.
At the moment lightning struck,
he raised his hand to her face-
Dan-he thought to be so tough.

Leiah blinked back tears,
after Dan’s regretful slap.
she pushed him against the wall,
fled out the door,
Trying to get herself under rap.

Sad, and in pain, Leiah ran out into the rain,
down the winding road, running away,
with plans to never come back again.

The night outside was dark,
and tonight’s argument,
had just been another thing
for Leiah to mark.
Slipping on the wet pavement,
She was just about spent.

Looking for a place to retreat,
An unfamiliar forest was ahead for her to meet.
Stopping for a moment to catch her breath,
Leiah could hardly believe, she had finally left.

The night was cold,
But she wouldn’t let it stop her from being so bold.
slowing down, she stopped for air,
It seemed to be, that she was lost in this forest,
and for now, she didn’t really care.

As Leiah began to walk through the woods,
her mind started to wonder,
as she began to frantically think about
all of the wouldn’ts and shouldn’ts….

Her heart began to beat and race,
as flashbacks begin to show her,
Dan’s slap to her face.
Then the tears started to pour,
But before she could gain her composure once more,

Leiah tripped and began to fall down some old forgotten hole,
After several feet down, she hit the wet muddy ground hard,
Pain shot out of her backside, the fall taking its tole.

Her jeans were now soaked from the rain,
Skin, bruised and cut,
Shirt was dirty with grass-stain.
Leiah lay on the ground,
out cold, unaware that nobody else would
be coming around…

Some time passed,
before she would awaken.
Leiah couldn’t remember how she got here,
Until she felt the bruise on her cheek,
Then she was sadly mistaken.

Alone and cold,
She had nobody to hold.
Her stomach rumbled and growled
With hunger pains that grew increasingly loud.
Down in a deep muddy hole,
This was the lowest of the low,
And since several days had passed,
she was no longer beginning to feel whole.

Leiah’s heart began to break,
What hurt the most,
was that nobody had looked for her,
or come to rescue.
That unwanting pain,
was almost too much to take.

With no food or water,
she had grown weak,
and now, was losing her ability to speak.

Growing angry, she became a fit of rage.
In this hole, dirty and mangled,
Leiah felt like a wild animal,
trapped in a cage.

The last moments she shared with Dan,
all the rage, shouting,
It all had gotten out of hand.
Now the memories began to warp her mind.

Any love that she once had, turned blind.
Leiah lay here, on a cold wet dirty ground.
All alone, nobody had came for her,
and now, maybe it was for the best,
that she not be found…

Her heart, that once was full of light and gold,
grew dark and horrid, with a black shade of mold,
Leiah’s hair was ragged,
Tears stung her face, and were hot like acid.

She had torn her shirt in a rage,
and now the anger made her look old with age.
Flies and roaches began to eat away at her skin,
Leiah’s heart turned vengeful with sin.

Mice bit away at her shoelace,
and as she grew more weary,
They all began to look monstrous
and two-face.

Within days, the world had become a difference place,
and Leiah was no longer herself,
Literally, the darkness of the hole,
had turned her toward a difference race.

Rage and anger from her home,
had driven her away.
Inside this hole, had become a death tomb.

In her mind, Leiah was no longer even a person,
as her mentality and physical shape began to worsen.
It became days, without a bite to eat,
as she quickly turned, losing her flesh and meat.

Her eyes, lost their shine,
Now appeared sunken, and dead.
An evil voice from below,
told her, that the stars would never align…

As Leiah, lay down, with her lips in a frown,
she waited for it all to end.
This was never the plan,
She had only wanted a new life to begin…

Her eyes, almost swelled shut,
Were dried with blood and a large cut.
One last tear forced to fall,
as Leiah cried at her hopeless rut…

In her last moments,
a tiny flicker flashed in her heart.
Leiah prayed not to be broken.
She prayed to be rescued,
and to put back all of the pieces
that had been torn apart.

Leiah prayed forgiveness for all the fights with Dan,
and everything that had gotten out of hand.
She begged for a second chance
So that she could find a real prince
who would give her that special first dance.

In a last hope,
Leiah would hope to be rescued from
this downward slope.
She ended her cries of help and prayer,
with a silent, “Lord, I love you,”
to show that she knew that he was still there.

With those last words,
before her heart gave its last beat,
Something above, provided her with warmth and heat.
Light filtered in through the dark hole,
As a golden hand reached in to raise Leiah up.

Something inside, touched and lit up her soul.
t’was a moment that once was dark,
had now become sweet with a bright spark.

Leiah raised up, her hands in the air
as her heart began to beat,
and the wind blew through her full brunette hair.

———————————————————-

Sometimes, when the pain is too much,
You have to turn away from the anger and hurt.
Don’t lose faith, and don’t lose touch…
And always, keep rage
locked inside its cage.

-Ariana R. cherry 2014

Horror Poem: TORTURED


A young woman sits alone in a dark room,
bound by her own misery to an old worn tattered chair.
She sulks silently, writhing in her own torture
by disturbing memories of long ago…

Delirious, she can’t seem to remember
how she reached the bottom of these stairs,
or why she is now bound to the old worn tattered chair.

Starved and lifeless, she slouches
cold blue eyes stare straight above to a
leaking cracked ceiling that creates puddles of
old dusty water on the wooden creaky floor.

Once golden blonde beautiful hair,
now strings of knots hanging
around a tear-stained dirty face.

Arms hang lazily from her bruised and scraped shoulders
that support a once-new black cocktail dress,
that now is torn and frayed.

Small short breaths still escape
the lipstick stained lips of the
troubled woman,
but life that once existed
has been depleted
as seen by the cold blue eyes
that continue to star above to the old
leaky ceiling.

At some point,
she escaped to find peace,
but her own horrid thoughts
locked her up as a prisoner,
which bound her to the old tattered chair.

The countless seconds she sat, turned into minutes,
which then grew into lonely hours,
that finally became lost forgotten days.

Torturous memories continue to play
through the woman’s wounded mind.
Demonic like hands reaching out for her soul,
wrapping like old rope around her body,
bounding her with fear.

Screams of agony escaping her mouth,
for nobody to hear but her
and the body behind the demonic hands.

Those long scraggly hairy arms that were attached to the demonic hands
hung like a picture on a wall in her mind.
They gripped her soul and all that was good,
taking away her glitz and sparkle,
leaving it all behind.

And now,
all that is left,
is a woman,
owner of a tortured soul
and lifeless blue eyes
that continue to stare at a cracked old ceiling,
bounded to a worn tattered chair.

-Ariana R. Cherry 2014

Humorous Horror Poetry: The Lady at the Round Rustic Table

Alone in a dark cool downstairs room,
seated around an old rustic round table,
sits an elderly woman with long black hair
and white highlights woven through.

Her long wrinkled fingers with brittle nails,
and chipped red polish
tap on the old rustic table,
As the black candle dances
Illuminating the dark cool room.

Dressed in a long black red-belted dress,
sleeves draping her long thin freckled arms,
She sits at the old rustic round table
in thought, as she skims an old bound book
of spells and long-ago tales,
planning a charade for her next victim.

The soft tapping of long wrinkled fingers
grows louder, as her sighs become heavier.
A quiet cackle escapes dry cracked pink lips,
as she humors herself with a plan.

Rising from the old rustic table
She hums a mysterious tune
And waves her arms swiftly
As a white fog enters the room
And twirls around her in a slow dance.

Magically, the elderly lady with long black hair is nevermore.
A beautiful young busty golden blonde haired maiden
dressed in a white red belted gown emerges from the white smog.
Her lips are full, pink and luscious,
as she smiles with flirty blue eyes.

The black candle’s flame distinguises immediately.
The dark cool room becomes filtered
with warmth and sunshine.

The young busty maiden runs up the worn creaky stairs,
as a quiet cackle escapes her plush pink lips.
Loudly, she laughs and giggles, dancing to the outdoors,
searching for her next victim.

Upon her search, she follows a brick path
towards her small hometown village.
A young tall handsome brute with slicked brown hair
dressed in his Sunday’s suit
meets the maiden’s blue flirtacious eyes.

She bows, giggles and offers a smooth-skinned hand.
As if by magic, the brute is entranced by the maiden’s golden beauty.
She giggles again, and plants a kiss upon his quivering shocked lips.

A white smog filters through the brick path,
and twirls around in a slow dance with the young brute.
Surprised with horror, his youth was stolen unexpectedly.

His slicked brown hair now was darkend
with white highlights woven through.
Long wrinkled fingers and yellowed brittle nails
were bestowed upon his aged hands.

A quiet cackle escaped the plush pink lips of the golden maiden.
While a hoarse whispher throated from the old wrinkled brute,
“Why?”

She giggled outloud and in a sing-song voice yelled,
“Good day!”
and skipped down the brick path to the small-town village
While the brute’s youth was nevermore.

Ariana R. Cherry 2014

Horror Poetry: Spirit and Flesh

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Inside a deep sleep was she.
Bound within a deafening silence,
only to be awakened to the horror
that now was bestowed upon her.

Between light and dark,
she was unable to ascend,
as now she found herself strapped down on
a heavy metal table,
where the torture would never end.

To her, this mystery was unknown,
of how the light’s path had darkened,
On a path to what she had thought was ascension,
now was, agony, which would break her every bone.

A heart, now cold as ice, awakened with a tense fear,
as a presence of overwhelming evil drew near.
Somewhere overhead, lights began to flicker
in the cool dark torture chamber.

The metal was cold against her pale dry skin,
Her ability to feel had been forgotten,
The reminder now made her shake to her very core.
T’was never a time, she felt so dead,
as she slowly awakened back to life.

As she lay, on the dreaded torture bed,
a bright lamp began to beam above her,
with scorching heat penetrating her sunken skull.
Perhaps, it would have been better,
being left to die…

Her path of ascension had taken her
down to this penitentiary of hell.

Strapped to the table, as the unbearable heat
blazed her eye sockets, she frantically,
searched for the source of evil.
A presence was a mist inside this room,
as a foul putrid odor, began to make her feel ill.

Out of the corner in her vision,
of a half-moon melted eye,
There was a dark hairy horned figure
walking angrily about,
Twirling his rat-like tail around.

Catching her curious stare,
he came forward with an evil grin,
a stale scent, pouring from decayed teeth,
forcing the remainder of her damaged eyes,
to cry.

Hot sweltering tears stained her face,
trying to figure out, this hellacious ravenous race.
A kidnapper of doom,
who planned to take both her spirit and grace.

Devilish laughter filled himself with delight,
as he knew himself to be quite wise.

Stepping closer to the deathly pale young girl
who lay on the table tied with leather straps,
He pulled them even harder, making them uncomfortably tight.

“Another one for the pits, another one for the flames!
Again and again, for all the power, it’s time for more games!”
A small dance he did, singing his heart out.

He pranced to a table, grabbing a metallic device…

“Let the pity games begin!” the devilish ghoul yelled out!

Now she lay on the metal table, with a fear so strong,
she couldn’t quite comprehend, what the hell
she ever did that was so wrong…

Why in the world was she here?

Before she could think anymore,
the lights went out,
and a loud boom rang out from the floor.

More flickering began about,
as a noisy rustic old machine rose up,
filling her with an impending horrific doubt.

The noise deafened her to no end,
With shrilling squeals,
and perhaps even the sound of metal bend.

Light appeared once more,
But t’was not heaven knocking on her door.
It was a machine of nails and pins,
ready to prod and poke her,
Torturing her to no end.

Closer, the machine began to draw near,
The sound of pins and nails hammering in her ear.

With nowhere to escape,
nowhere to run,
It would be an eternity of pain,
this journey would never be done.

Shrieking, kicking, screaming in agonizing pain
The nails lowered, digging deep into her skin,
leaving deep, blood-dripping welts, over and over again.

In and out, they pulled out of her skin,
punching holes, cracking and breaking her bones,
Stealing any fighting chance of a win.

The dull nails and sharp pins, continued pounding,
before long, she gave in,
no longer, her heart even rousing.

But something deep down inside,
began to crawl,
Even though, physically, her fight was done.
the nails began to dig more,
Prodding at her soul.

A second death, was knocking at her door.
Inside, her spirit screamed out,

A soul trapped inside the torture chamber,
It scratched at the inside of her chest, ripping out her heart,
pulling every vein, every ventricle apart.
Her spirit climbed with anger inside,
writhing in a soul-tearing pain.

“Hahahhaaha You’re all mine!” the devilish ghoul exclaimed…

“Spirit and flesh, spirit and flesh,
You feel so good, when I turn you all into mesh,
Take you in, pour you out,
All into my flaming soup!”

His ranting songs echoed throughout her spirit.
With a superior Godly strength,
Her chest tore open, releasing the putrid evil
that had began to fill the soon-to-be corpse.

Bones cracked and skin hung off like loose fabric,
as her spirit lashed out from the evil within.

“How dare thee flee from my fiery soup!” demanded the ghoul.
Surprised and taken aback, for once,
he know not what to do.
For before, each soul had been his.

“Feisty, feisty are you!
I shall take your spirit with me to the tomb!” he said.

The young deathly pale girl was no more,
as she now, finally ascended,
her spirit of an en-lighted strength had rose up.

She refused to become a resident of this ghoul’s tomb!

Thunder crashed and lightning struck,
as flames enveloped the treacherous chamber.
Reaching high above the air,
was a pointy deathly spear.

Her strengthened spirit, had dealt with more than enough…

“You dirty devil’s son,
I’m sorry, but your little fiery soup is done!
Sticks and stones shall break my bones,
but your torture chamber will never hurt me!”

The devilish ghoul roared angrily,
as the spear struck him through his horned skull,
releasing every trapped dark spirit, demon and monster,
before being forced into a black hole,
down on the cold concrete floor…
The torture chamber, burning into nothing more

Inside a deep sleep was she.
Between light and dark,
somewhere she had ascended…
only to be awakened to the grace
that now was bestowed upon her.

-Ariana R. Cherry 2014

Inspirational poetry: Surreal

 

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SURREAL

In a realm of a surreal reality,
she steps out on uncharted territory.

Her eyes, somewhat blind
to the visions before her,
but her spirit is awakened,
to the visions
instilled in her.

Her heart, merely beating
to life’s everyday tunes,
but open,
to untraveled roads ahead.

There was a photo that would appear in her mind,
but for years, it was blank,
because her passion had been blind.

Something inside had unraveled,
And now a surge had come to tide.

The winds were now more outspoken,
and the waters, crashing with each new breath.

The air around, began to move and dance
with the forces at work.

Her spirit is awakened to the visions
instilled in her.

In a realm of surreal reality,
she steps out on uncharted territory.

Her soul began to move
as a new pattern of the sun began.
The tide has changed.

 

 

-Ariana Cherry 2014

Love/Horror Poem: ALIVE

Knees quivering, heart jumping,
Pulse racing, soul leaping…

That was how she felt before she saw HIM…
The thought that she might even get to see him,
made her lips tremble.
Fear and excitement, felt all at once.
She still could feel alive inside,
even if her heart froze in passion.

She caught a swift glimpse of her reflection,
in a rustic oval antique mirror.
Looking back at herself was a young gaunt figure,
with long jet-black hair and crimson highlights
that flowed over her narrow shoulders in waves.
She flashed a pearly white fanged smile
that sat upon a pale ivory face.

Leaning in closer to the mirror,
she studied her reflection
to see that the innocent twinkle of her once blue eyes was gone.
Those cold blue eyes began to slide into a bloody dark red.

Mouth watering, she thirsted for life.
Although, her heart no longer pounded profusely.
It still troubled her, even in death,
for a love that she couldn’t have.

Stretching out her long fingers, sharp claw-like nails extracted.
She ran them down the white painted walls,
leaving behind scratch marks and
screamed in agony
Passion that froze her heart in time,
for a love she couldn’t have.

Knees quivering, heart jumping,
pulse racing, soul leaping.
The thoughts made her feel alive inside.
Passion that froze her heart in time,
for a love she couldn’t have.

Again, she veered at her reflection,
watching her eyes glaze over in a deep pool of red.
Red fury, red love, red hate…
Red love.
Passion,
freezing her heart in time.

With no exceptions,
she decided to set out.
Dressing in skin black tights,
and a see through black and white knitted top.
Black stilettos and painted pink lips.
Mouth watering, she thirsted for life,
Smiling with her pearly white fangs.

Into a building, she knew he stayed,
she walked inside,
opening the glass doors, in search of his presence.
Passing through the crowded halls,
she caught scents of other powerful perfumed souls…
Although, she thirsted for his life only.

Knees quivering, heart jumping,
Pulse racing, soul leaping,
Trembling lips…
the very thought…
Mouth watering,
at the very sight of him.

Nervously shaking, she walks up.
Her eyes fixated upon his tall fit muscular handsome figure.
His musk cologne, leaving a sweet trail under her nose.

Closer yet, hands shaking,
taps him on his broad shoulder.
Turning around, his sparkling blue eyes meet hers…
Although, her gleaming once loving blue eyes are no longer innocent.
They slide back into a bloody death red…

She grabs his face in the palm of her pale ivory hand,
while the other claws down his back,
ripping his blue dress shirt.
Pulling him in for a powerful gripping kiss.

Mouth watering, she thirsted for his life only.
Astounded and overcome by her sudden power,
he gives in.

Red fury, red love, red hate…
Red love.
PASSION.
Her heart fr-
BEATS.

She still feels alive inside.

POEM: ” THE JOURNEY”

Her soul leaped inside of her
in a rage, as she felt
trapped in her skin,
like a cage.

She saw the heart of her spirit.
All the good, bad, and
all of the joy,
that came with it.

She lived beyond the world
and all of its worth.
To some point, she understood
the “ifs,” “buts”
and all that she could.

But somehow, it wasn’t
always satisfying.
Inside, her soul
was hungry for more.
Inside, she felt it crawling,
knocking at her inner-heart’s door.

Every day, she looked in the mirror,
staring at her own mortality.
How could such a journey ever be
the end of her?

In her heart, she felt something
urging for more.

Through all of her life, as she’s grown,
her heart felt at war.
Somehow, the secrets, it had known.

“There’s more to life than this.”
The journey was in her,
rooted to her very core.

With each heart beat, she continues living,
Stepping towards her path,
working towards the center of her very being.

To all of this,
there’s a reason.
We hold our breath
and languish
in every last kiss.

The battle is internal
and the journey,
is forever,
eternal.

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