Tuesday, June 21, 2016


by Seah Greenhorn 
( Poem with copyright ) 


now in fear.

A peach plucked.

Juicy they thought
to eat
is what they saw.

What they still see.

No future desires that exist in me.
No innocent can I be;

though my wish was to just run;
to climb trees. Temporarily.
A little girl. A teenager. A young woman.

A little boy. A teenager. A young man.

to develop
distinct personalities.

Not have to concentrate on how to escape hungry or angry he or she's
thinking that I was planted solely for them to enjoy

then toss like an apple core,
roadside garbage,

to seed in an environment not designed for sweet apples to grow.

The seeds are trampled or blown away with no roots to firmly stand; to demand a place; to command a space. To take part in a normal race for betterment without the chains of a stigma:

sad or angry mental victim.

Raised with a belligerent rage seething beneath as a silent volcano. One day to erupt, but too late to be against the perpetuators of this hate.

Though, exist not a lack of perpetuators against others sown without a cloth of self-respect or dignity to wear.

Naked too;
they feel shamed.

As if all can perceive that they were used or abused as tarnished trophies

once arrogantly displayed;

then laid aside
dented and damaged.
No longer worthy of any honor.

Thus, another cycle to circle
violence and hate.

The wheels of rape
go round and round.

Round and round.

Round and round.

The violence of rape
It makes no sound.

Makes no sound.

Makes no sound.



Given no tongue to preach:

No more violence!
I said "no!"

But, the tears do fall.
And fall.

All the while
silent screams bounce off the walls.
As the waters rise
drowning the victim from within.

No one sees the river rising
behind the eyes. Inside the mind.

Though, eventually they see the deadness
in her/his despise of the living.

Yes, eventually, the zombie is recognized by their sporadic loud laughter or drug glazed stare or Tick.

Clocking the days to nowhere.


One day,

out of the haze

A voice speaking of a future free of violence and hatred. A time when wickedness will be eliminated. A future filled with love and enjoyable work for all. An end to death and pain. No more to grow old. And a resurrection of dead loved ones.

The voice spoke from a book, though ancient, stating these were future prophecies to be fulfilled on this earth.

They promised to show me other scriptures to validate their claims.

I shut the door.
I forgot their names.

I turned to another John,
as his toy.

I am what I am now.

Why search for joy?

Listen to Caged by Seah Greenhorn (Poem with copyright) https://allpoetry.com/poem/12738509-Caged-by-Seah-Greenhorn?c=1154453211 by Seah Greenhorn #np on #SoundCloud