You Will Rot

“Self-love is so important. Because when you’re all alone and it’s 3 in the morning and you’re lying on the floor crying and shaking and wishing it all would end, who’s going to be there for you? You. You have to pick yourself up and find the strength to carry on. At the end of the day, you’re all you’ve got.” ~ via All Women’s Talk

.
Selfishness
was once a goddess
killed by man.
I reclaimed her might
back to life, for me.

You want me
meek, shushed at your feet?
Dumb man-child,
your dream will not be—
my tongue whips silence.

The right words
demolish dogma,
defeat lies.
Hear my wild heart roar
change, and be reborn.

“Selfish!” you
shout, and I laugh, laugh—
I love me.

You (your shouts) and your insecurities will rot before I change my Self.

.
a wee note…
– Linked to Protest and Outrage: Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, and to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Frida Kahlo and Chavela Vargas
via Pinterest

Bella in Black

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you…? You need to mean them… You need to really want to cause pain—to enjoy it—righteous anger won’t hurt me for long—I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson—” ~ Bellatrix Lestrange, in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling

.
Night and blood
feed the flames that scream
her hollowed soul wild,

empower
the wants marked wicked,
forbidden.

Bella in black is pure
magic madness,
sweet chaos. She is
love in lust with death
that thrives through torture…

…through wild, forbidden
chaos,

Bella is tortured.
.

a wee note…
– Rommy, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, invited us to write a poem from the point of view of a fictional villain. She wants to know what makes them villainous. Are their depraved ways justified by tales we haven’t been told? Or, are they just plain rotten? I chose unstable, malicious, insane, love-starved, Bellatrix Lestrange, from the Harry Potter Series.

“Bellatrix Lestrange”, by NLMDA
via

The Sun Wants to Die

Sanna said “Light is easy to love. Show me your darkness.” Yep, my Luvs, she believes that the upcoming birthdays of two deliciously wicked writers (Rommy and moi) are best celebrated with dark poetry. Since I believe she’s correct, here is my dark bit:

.
the night heard
my side of our bed
shivering—
my spring turns wintry
when your heart is gone

in nightmares
my lips say nothing
of our love,
my blood refuses
to ink you and me

the sun wants to die
without you
my self grows hollow

.
“I’m almost undone,”
you whisper.

And I breathe again.

.
.
the wee notes…
– I’m terming the first two stanzas of this poem Thinner Tanka—traditional tanka calls for 5 lines with 5-7-5-7-7 syllables each. I’ve thinned mine down to 3-5-3-5-5. I like it.
– Sanaa, over at Prompt Nights, asked us to find inspiration in the work of a favorite dark poet. I chose T.S. Eliot: “The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.”
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Flash 55) and to Poets United.

“Woman in Bed of White”, by Linda Robertson
via