Have you ever been helpless?

naamplao

Really Really Experienced
Joined
Nov 27, 2006
Posts
316
You know that feeling. You are scared to death, out of control and your fate in not in your hands. As you can see in this poem, I have been there. I wonder if there are others in this forum who have a helpless feeling to share poetically.

Warning: Ellipse alert (Yeah I use them shamelessly :rolleyes:)

Helpless
by Naamplao


“Why me?! What have I done to be so cursed?”
Trapped, a helpless passenger as the car
enters that ice dancer’s death spiral,
waiting for the whip to snap sending
the vehicle tumbling, cartwheeling into others,
anticipation of crunching metal, shattered glass
and the impact of the rest of the traffic behind.

“Haven’t I suffered enough?! Do I owe more penance?”
It started so innocently, driving home, on a rain slicked
roadway, bumper to bumper, all traveling too fast.
My son at the wheel, eleven months of experience,
chatting as he drove, on his new project, realizing too late
the danger lurking in the sea of red that suddenly blazed,
his foot too firmly on the brake as panic sets in.

“Is this how it ends?! But I have so much more to give!”
I want to see my son grow, play with his children,
spoil them as a grandparent should.
I want to meet my soulmate, my lover, the woman
I cannot be without, to share the rest of my life!
Yeah...the rest of my life...it won’t be long now,
the tail lights dancing fire across the windshield.

“I’ll be with you soon Grandma! Are you looking down?!”
Never been one for religion. A vague feeling exists that
there must be an afterlife, that the spirit lives on somewhere.
Otherwise, what is the point to all this! Tease us with a short life.
Give us some joy, some misery....for nothing? Ending like this!
Funny, but there is no fright; anger...maybe, frustration...yes,
but most of all a sense of helpless abandonment to the fates.

“His foot is off the brake! We are out of the skid!”
These seconds seem an eternity. His driver training skills
have returned....steady...pump the brakes...yeah that’s it!
The vehicles still creep slowly together but more controlled.
Death walks away...maybe hospital...but Death is gone.
Another surgery! It will make four now in 2 years...
Steady son...I pray to myself...you can do this!

“It is over....you did it son! I knew you could do it!”
Relief washes over as the cars begin to separate.
Nervousness, shaking, lying ashen in the depths of the seat,
a glance at my son shows a confident, smiling face.
Do you know how close this was, son? Did you learn a lesson?
Aaahhh....the invulnerability of youth in this video game of life.
Thanks for looking down Grandma...Thanks for watching over us!
 
Faint Hope

Deception smiles this lie, bold on my face.
My lips turned into secret whispers of dark
shadows, muttered false against the mask of grace.

Tears flow down grease painted cheeks; the bark
of trees could never be so thick as this; skin
calloused from rubbing on knives that mark

and cut deep creases, where love falls in
to hide amid the blood and wounds and remain
scarred with each kind word and phony smile. I sin

self-loathing sighs of truth-tainted pain
as I hold you safe against the lies of living
here, within this loss and say I know again

and again. I know how hard it is to keep giving
voice to this hope that dies and I must bury deep.
 
some say

no greater love than to lay down your life for another
so what if one laid down love
gave up a future
with soul hood
I say...
forget about it...
now
thats sad....
now
that is
true
helpless...
 
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"hey, do you think you could give me a ride home?"

He wasn't really a stranger; I had met him a couple of hours sooner at Randy's party. Randy saw I was too drunk and high to drive, so he took my keys and asked his friend to give me a ride home. His name was Phil, and he seemed alright. Friendly, even anxious to help out a friend.

And, like I said, he wasn't really a stranger, not in the truest sense of the word.

I lived three miles from the hotel Randy's mother owned and so it should have been a short trip, but Phil said he needed to make a quick stop at his room that he was renting from a family friend.

By that time, the Dilaudid, 'ludes and Bacardi were getting to me and I began t o gag. He pulled up in his driveway, held my hair as I puked in his landlady's driveway. It was around 3 am and no one was around to noticed, if they had even cared.

He told me I needed to wash up and he helped me into his apartment. A few minutes in the bathroom, relieving myself and then washing the vomit off my hands and face, I felt much better.

I told him I felt well enough to go home now and he came over to me as if he were going to embrace me, but he grabbed my right arm and pulled it behind my back and threw me onto his bed. Initially, I thought he was goofing off, playing, just trying to tease or scare me, but then he undid the buttons on my jeans and puled them off, I bit him on the hand and he lit into me like a punching bag. One hand over my mouth. I was a tiny thing, about 100 pound sand he was about 6'2 and well over 20 pounds. I Was over whelmed and yes, I felt helpless.

I still can remember the look in his eyes. It was as there was no humanity there. He slobbered and spit in my face as he threatened me not to fight back, or even make a sound. He told me a piece of pussy is nothing and I was nothing and if he had to kill me, he would have no trouble sleeping that night.

I knew just then he was going to kill me. He was so big, his penis tort into me and I bled for days afterward. I still remember them menthol stink of his cigarettes and the sour taste of whiskey on his lips. I hated him then, but mostly I hated myself. What did I do to ever deserve being treated like a dog. Where was mercy then? Where was God? I saw God and hell in every bruise on my body, it hurt. I hated myself and to this day I still have trouble looking into a mirror.

He was at least 10 or more, years older than me and I still look for his face in every tall stranger I meet. Did I feel helpless? I did then, and I still do. I never reported it, I never knew his last name. I asked my date that night if he knew and he said no, that was some dude that crashed the party. My mom saw teh bruises and never even asked what happened.

There are times I feel like I deserved it, he saw me with Randy and randy couldn't perform that night, he was too high and I guess Phil just saw me as some little whore. I think, that if we met up again someday, that would be the end of that man.

Yes, Naamplo, I have been helpless. sorry this didn't come out in poetry form.

:(
 
I wrote this in 08/05 ... It could use some work but I honestly try NOT to remember these times, back then ....


I feel you out there. Creeping around.
Dark moonless night. Dew upon the
dampened ground, soft footsteps,
tiptoeing up the walk.

Foggy windows condensed,
from water drops as cryptic
coolness, permeates from inside
the murky depths, in my home.

Quick repetitive raps on the door.
Fast ... Furious.
Ratt Tatt Tatt!
Heart stopping, silence. Running
fugitive flying away, with the wind.

Did you hear that?
No! Do not move!
Stay still ... Motionless
Heart stops, blood freezes.
Incapable of movement,
Shock ... What now?

Tall trollsome trees calling. No
answer forthcoming. Breathe catches,
frostily freezes mid air.

Dogs start furiously barking,
as if whip snapped. Noise
erupts from all sides. Volcanic
interruption into a soundless night.

Goosebumps spread along golden
tanned skin. Hair seems to stand
on end. Evil presence felt from
with-in.



-------

Like I said, needs some work. It was really a vent and didn't go into too much detail but I just cannot bring myself to relive those days. Hope this can help in whatever way ~~

:rose:
 
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