I don't even remember home no more I walked away and closed the door. That old front room With its coffee shop windows And Tokyo gloom Was looking more and more Like a trap or a tomb. Even the cat had upped and left I had a nagging feeling in my chest That if I didn't get away I didn't have too many more days. Guitars and small screens Cups of tea and baby's grins Cherry blossom walks and arcade cool Reading Dickens and afternoon home school, The days they passed in carousel fashion Ups and downs and remote distractions Every fist might as well have been a gun There ain't no surviving under that Rising Sun. "Call the cops!" he leered at me Keisatsu will take away you not me, And it was true I soon found out Locked up waiting to be let out It happened once, it happened twice First because he refused to Sign my visa papers until I Became 'nice enough' for him To retreat. The second time he had knocked Me out in the street And they shut the door on me Not him. I was the one disturbing The peace by laying bleeding And failing to be quiet enough To meet their standards for Societal harmony. I couldn't even summon enough Strength for half of me and failed To stand up unassisted. The pigs did not care what he did. I have an internal record player That remembers words and music And saves those thoughts for later It played me Times Square And Helpless, it conjured up This Woman's Work and Blue Dress The world went round and I went down Singing the words to someone else's Emotional drowning. There is no art or craft to suffering. It is a knack, a learnt response To bury yourself down and ensconce Yourself somewhere other than there Where music plays and you just don't care. When I came back to my senses The record had stopped and I Had lost my defenses, Covered in slime And bites and unwanted kisses Rose shaped bruises and clumps Of hair missing Scratched up and bleeding Walking with a limp "Now your munko is black and blue It looks like it belongs to me Along with the rest of you." He laughed. I wondered how long I could take What I had been dealt How much longer could I fake being human With feelings and tears And rights and reasons? When my well was dried up And all that I was left with Was fear, anger and disgust. The days they passed in carousel fashion Ups and downs and remote distractions Every fist might as well have been a gun There ain't no surviving under that Rising Sun.
Another powerful verse and reading.
Poetry is my therapy. Hope you are having a good week.
It’s taken me a few days to decide to read your poem as I wasn’t quite sure what to expect because of the trigger warning. I’m glad I read it, although it expresses so much pain and angst. It’s so sad, and I can only assume it’s true? If so, you are very brave to have written it – that must have taken an awful lot of courage, so kudos to you for expressing your feelings in such an artistic way (that’s meant to be a compliment, not an insult, by the way). I listened to your recording, which made me even more aware of the depth of your feelings. However, I was surprised at the female voice (or am I mistaken – in which case, I apologise). I had thought the name Detroit was a man’s name. I also googled it for further information on that, but it confirmed it the same. I hope it helped a little to write this, and I wanted you to know that I will remember your experience and hope that you’re in a safe place now. I send you comfort, peace and calm. Ellie x
Yes Ellie, absolutely true experience – if you read more of my stuff you will see I am a survivor of severe DV and sexual abuse. I am a woman, yes. Detroit is a nom de plume which stuck. I like the name. Yes I am safe.
I’m glad to know you’re safe at the moment. I will try to read more of your posts as I can relate to what you write, having survived DV and abuse myself too. I follow your blog anyway, so this won’t be difficult for me to do. Thank you for sharing your experiences – it must help others to feel less alone if experiencing the same things. Take care x
Thank you for your kind words. I am glad you are safe now too, and very sorry you went through that.