Inspired by an a**h**e

Rayne

Originally posted by Talk Show Host
but i found as soon as i completely blocked that person out, didn't write about them, and just didn't even let the thought of them slip my mind, i felt fine again and quickly got over them.

Ummm...can you say, denial is not just a river in Egypt? This is called repression, a known defense device which actually inhibits the healing process. Perhaps it works for you for now, but eventually you will have to deal with those emotions if you want to live your life in any sort of healthy manner.

browneyedgrl

Originally posted by CranMalReign
Amen, sister!

Talk Show Host

Originally posted by Rayne
Ummm...can you say, denial is not just a river in Egypt? This is called repression, a known defense device which actually inhibits the healing process. Perhaps it works for you for now, but eventually you will have to deal with those emotions if you want to live your life in any sort of healthy manner.

denial?

alright that's complete bullshit. just because i stopped thinking about the person i wanted to get over 2 years ago doesn't mean i didn't deal with my emotions in a healthy manner. i think if it was going to eventually catch up to me, it would have by now, and it definitely hasn't. maybe i'm just fortunate in the sense that i can just let things go and have them not effect me. and yes, it's healthy to let things go! who wants to live a life complaining and dwelling on the person or thing they want to get over?

maybe poetry is healing for her, i was just giving my two cents. but it's rather absurd for you to tell me i'm in denial, and that my way of dealing with emotions is temporary and unhealthy. i'm the most emotionally stable person i know, and i have seen so much success and happiness from how i handle problems, so that is why i was offering my advice.

Rayne

You actually didn't say 'let go', which IS healthy. You said 'block out', as in deny the existance of. But I'll go ahead and assume that you meant to say let it go, in which case, that's what most of us do when we write poetry such as this. We get the emotions out of our head, onto paper, and then we can put it away, and move on from there.

Please don't be offended, I've seen first hand the implications of blocking out events and people in ones life. It's not pretty, and due to that, I don't recommend it as a way of healing. So, perhaps somehow this method works for you, but for most of the general population, it will backfire in the end.

Yellow

i think the poem stands well, without any details... we all know firsthand or second what's happened here...

and it is CATHARTIC to write it down, wonderfully so

we can't go up to this guy, the vile subconscious offender, and challenge him to a duel... it just isn't done anymore

wouldn't even do any good to crank call the fuck...

but writing it down
the blame for which circumstance both parties claim

helps


not only the writer
but the reader
who just might come away knowing he or she is not alone

Yellow

Originally posted by browneyedgrl
These are emotions from my recent past. I just ran into him yesterday though with his next victim...this just came to me after seeing him again.

oh, and once, i was out with a girl still nursing wounds cuz one of my friends left her... and we bumped in to the girl he left her for, and THAT girl just got dumped by the guy...

he was quite the undecided romeo there for a sec....

so prolly good that you saw him with his next "victim"

i look forward to befriending my ex's next





(i'm a sick pup, huh?:D)

mulac

i thought this board was for people to share their poetry and get a critique on it

not for people to judge the reasons behind why it was written or actually judge you on the content

poetry is catharsis as is most art and creativity

i didn't think it was that angsty as a poem

i liked it though

browneyedgrl

Originally posted by mulac
i thought this board was for people to share their poetry and get a critique on it

not for people to judge the reasons behind why it was written or actually judge you on the content

poetry is catharsis as is most art and creativity

i didn't think it was that angsty as a poem

i liked it though

Thank you...

CranMalReign

Originally posted by mulac
i thought this board was for people to share their poetry and get a critique on it

not for people to judge the reasons behind why it was written or actually judge you on the content

poetry is catharsis as is most art and creativity

i didn't think it was that angsty as a poem

i liked it though

Amen, sister!

Talk Show Host

why hasn't this post died out yet? who really cares?

my advice wasn't wanted, so let's let it go....please.

CranMalReign

Originally posted by Talk Show Host
why hasn't this post died out yet? who really cares?

my advice wasn't wanted, so let's let it go....please.

Pull the plug! Mercy kill! Kavorkian!

fakeplastictree

Some are harder to get over than others.
Never give up on love.

It just takes time and determination.

Ms. Haiku

I used to listen to many people talk about violence inflicted on them-voluntarily as a career. I used poetry to write the emotion out when I was overwhelmed-similar to "wash that man out of your hair", but more intense, almost a way of preserving sanity. Writing poetry about a bad relationship seems a great idea. So many songs are about relationships there's bound to be one or two about the end of a bad relationship. Here's a poem I wrote in 1996 to write a bad crisis call out of my head.

Better Than the Legal System

You didn’t think
strength grew from your wife’s
broken neck and stabbed heart.
You smiled
as three women grieved
while her coffin dropped
to its entombment.

You didn’t hear her call the names of
her mother, her daughter, and the woman next door,
yet they responded without the shame
that murderers thrive on behind closed doors.

They prayed for her soul to rise;
a signal; a band-aid for unfulfilled expectations.
They burned her wedding gown
and wished time traveled backwards.

Beyond the conscious
what you could see
their hands bonded in an energy
that left these women’s bodies searching.

A week after your deed
you visited the dead.
A gravestone at her head.
Three sets of hands waited at her feet.

A fog covered you in a quick embrace.
The fog as thick as dried blood.
The shadows of boneless fingers alarmed you,
but no one phoned for your rescue.

What surprised you most
were the hands that held you tight.
The hands of women you thought were kind,
but when is kindness blind?
And you said,
"It was my father."
And they said,
"You are not your father."
And you said,
"It was my mother."
And they said,
"You are not your mother."
And you said,
"It was my son."
And they said,
"Your son wasn’t there. He died in utero the third time you beat her."
When they released their grip they promised,
"You will look behind.
you will want someone to understand
The fear of censure of predatory hands."

Only those who died at the hands of lovers
watched as you were condemned.
No human being could save you then.
After all, widower, this was not revenge.