Laurel (v2)

Oh, this thunderstorm here is no surprise
Lilith is for the hunt and she smells blood
Saving the grace of the Children of Sunrise
Fugitives of the left hand’s grasp of Ehud.

I was raised to sit down, listen and obey
And though these shackles were strong enough to hold a mountain
It came down to traits I simply cannot feign
‘Cause that voice in my brain filled up with pain is now shouting.

Oh those whackers!
Don’t they love it when snakes crawl beneath the grass?
Those mother rockers!
Don’t they love it better how it was then in the past?
They do, they do, they do!
Cause every prince needs a trophy princess to set on display
They need their mechanical mannequins to advertise their victory
To boast their ego as their golden halo’s glow beams blindingly like the sun
I don’t think these majestic pimps need a golden rod but rather a golden gun.

When are you going to stop these men from claiming us as prizes?
Maybe when the stream of the Rose Sisterhood rises
Not until then, not a minute earlier, not an instant later.

Oh, this rattle noise here is not uncommon
Eris is looking for harmony and finds none
Unravels the principles of events to summon
Being sanctuary to those in need of a home.

I was molded by fire, steel and diamond cut
And though these pillars were designed to keep my monster confined
It came to the point that the weight abrupt
The pontifical colloquial symmetries of this cyclical cylindrical sine.

‘Cause every ruler needs a maiden maid right by their side
They need their long string puppets to put a on a good spectacle
And all the mistress they can get for the when world seems just a bit empty
For when their servants contravene after the fact they cannot find any sympathy.

When are you going to stop these men from claiming us as prizes?
Maybe when the stream of the Rose Sisterhood rises
Not until then, not a minute earlier, not an instant later.

Oh how they ride inside their modern day cortege
As they always seem to be late for their own funeral
Well I should apply for a brand new confident entourage
One never knows about those things that might become ephemeral.

  1. beingcreativebc says:

    This poem seems especially poignant for me right now. I can feel the pain and disgust from the language you use in some of these stanzas. The cries of a woman, a girl, being more than just a “prize”, yes that is exactly how it feels sometimes. The feeling of being a conquest, rather than seen as having anything of any real value or worth. Sometimes it feels like that is all you can be and so do you fight against that or do you simply surrender to it. I don’t know if that is so much dealt with in your poem per say, but definitely hit me emotionally today. Despite all the thoughts swirling in my head, I enjoyed reading this as always.

    • bloodnshadow says:

      Thank you for reading and commenting. The poem is emotionally complicated and puzzling. It has themes about resisting to “sell oneself short”. It’s the conundrum of the mind trying to make sense of certain absurd ways of life, and how people behave towards these “rules” that society has set on how things should be. Above that is the abuse of power/control over certain situations that seem to give advantage to a group of people. In this case the men (of this place, time period). I’m sorry you’re going through a lot of emotional stress. Love you. Always keep safe.

      • beingcreativebc says:

        Yeah I can definitely read that. Definitely the abuse of power is very relevant today on many different fronts. Emotions are very confusing and frustrating sometimes. Thank you. Love you too.

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