Wednesday, November 4, 2009


My heart was crushed
And silently
Fell down in pieces
To the abyss of my soul

I bled black liquid
Meandering slowly
From my body to
The bottom of my life

I screamed in bitterness
Cursing the deity
Who claims to be
The source of love

The crusts of open wounds
Were re-opened
By smiling saints
Trained to torture

My eyes reddened
From tears of anger
Stimulating my rage
And lust to destroy

I ordered my soul
To hate again
To abandon peace
To live renewed


  1. Your highness Ayesha, your galley-slave ship, how often in one day do you allow your male galley-slaves to eat and drink and the food and drink that they eat on the ship, how does it compare to the food and drink that you eat on your ship?

  2. I am hungry for your whip Ayesha. My galley-slave fantasy-part-2. At the begining. I go on board your ship. I knock on your cabin door. I walk in. You are sitting behind a desk. You are all dressed in black with black high heeled boots on. You tell me to sign a piece of paper-I do so. I am now your propery. I am now your galley-slave. You then tell me to strip naked. I do so. You then throw a very small narrow piece of clothing and tell me to put it on. It is barely enough to cover my manhood.You tell me to get on my knees. You then shave all my hair off. I notice you have keys around your waist and a whip on the other side. You then say follow me. We get to the galley-slave deck. There are lots of males there and they are all sitting there, eager to row for you. They too, have all their hair shaved off an a small piece of rag to cover the loins. They are all wearing neck, wrist and ankle chains-also with a gag on their mouths. You order me to sit down on the galley. You then chain me to it. Before you put my mouth-gag on I kiss your whip. You then order us to row for you as you crack your whip over our backs. You notice that as we are rowing, we all have erections. Much time later when we are covered in sweat, you then order us to stop rowing. We then all have an orgasm.

  3. Writing a stupid fantasy like that in connection to this poem of mine, shows u r even more egocentric than i am.

    Ur behavior also confirms that u belong to those who will never be allowed to come close to a dominant woman. But u don't care about that. The fantasy is enough for u.

  4. Sweetie... words aren't enough - even if you pulled that out some old notebook.


  5. It came straight from my anger, sweetie.

    So, the contents of old notebooks r inferior in ur opinion, when for instance compared to new ones?

  6. no, no, no. wasn't tryin to dump on you or your thoughts, present or past. i was trying to express that i felt your pain and anger, that i had no comfort for it. and that i was sorry? bad word... upset i guess, even if what you wrote came from something long ago.

    ok? i'm glad i can back so quick. shit girl, if it was me wrote that i'd be needing someone close to me to hold me, comfort me. the hurt expressed saddened me, and i didn't know how to say, or if i should, or if it's any of my business, that i hope you got love in your life. someone that knows you well to say this to shall pass. even if it was about something that occurred back when, it cut deep.

    i was trying - am trying - to express a concern. for as little as it's worth, for whatever good it may do.


  7. When i'm writing poetry linked to my past, it empowers me, no matter the pain and agony i had to go through. The past doesn't hurt me. On the contrary. The past belongs to me, is part of me, like my hair, my heart, my arrogance, my intolerance etc. I don't need to be comforted when feeling angry, or in rage. If i would need anything at all during those times from another person, it would be sharing my anger and rage, one who would stand by me, ready to confront those who r the cause of my anger and rage. That's also love in one of its purest form s. There r not many who r capable of this, but i've met a few of them in my life. I remember them via my poems. Some were published on this site , and more will come.