Silence

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Silence
M

michael Joseph

Registrant
This poem was written by me around 6 yrs ago.
it was printed in a book In Cabin Six Edt. by Jill Kuhn.

NO WORDS

There are no word to
describe my pain
explain how I feel.
Tell you I'm hurting

There are feelings
left in my body
they all left
The day you hurt me.

There are no tears
to be shead
because there are
No words inside me.

No words only numbness
feelings severed from my body
ripped from my soul
By your bare hands.

By M. Joseph

I posted this under Books for survivors, I would like to see more people talking about book they have found. Noone responded to my post, it makes me wonder how often someone visits there. I am very proud of my poems, and feel that the book written by male survivors is important. I do not know of another such book ever printed. Some of the poems are very strong, but there is a lot of healing in them. I encourage others to share resources tht have helped them.

Hope you liked my poem, I plan on sharing it at the conference in Oct.

[ 06-21-2001: Message edited by: michael Joseph ]
 
Here is a newer poem which also has been put into print, and which I Plan on put into in a book of my own poetry, I wrote it early one morning within the last year when I woke up around 5 am. I wake up at either 3 or 5 a lot, I do not know why. Anyhow here it is.

WOUNDED

Wounded Child
Crying in Corner
Lost between Years

Crying out Silently
No One Comes
No ONE Hears

A Prison of Silence
Surrounds Me,
Into an Early Grave.

How do i start
to Breath Again?
Am I Someone's Slave?

A Wounded Child
grows, As Does
A Wounded Man

The Wound Becomes My Sword.
Like Tempered Steel,
I am strong again, Oh my Lord.

A Wounded Man Sat Crying
Lost Within his Years.

Silence at last was Broken
Stattered Woundes Turned
Into a River of Tears.

A Sword of Anger Broke Me Out,
As I Yelled Screamed and Roared.

The Prison wasn't
Mine at Last
It Was Yours.

By M. Joseph

I feel the growth I have made in this poem. Each day is still hard. I am grateful for anything that come out of me that helps. When I write it usually take 4 to 5 mins. and the poems are pretty much unchanged. My unconsious is comming out. Usually i do not know my dreams, I feel I am protecting myself. The poems have been a gift to myself, I hope that they help some of you.
 
Thanks billy,

hope you get sleep, I know I could use it.

I AM

I AM not the abuse
I AM A CHILD OF GOD
I AM A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINNING
I AM BEAUTIFUL
I AM THE DANCE
I AM THE SONG
I AM CHERISHED
I AM LOVED
SEE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!

By M. Joseph
 
Thanks billy,

hope you get sleep, I know I could use it.

I AM

I AM not the abuse
I AM A CHILD OF GOD
I AM A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINNING
I AM BEAUTIFUL
I AM THE DANCE
I AM THE SONG
I AM CHERISHED
I AM LOVED
SEE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!

By M. Joseph
 
Sometimes it is hard for me to share these, I have waited to post them for a while. You can see more of me through them. These are very personal. Once a showed some of my poetry to another survivor, she said they were tipical of other survivor's poems. They may have some truth, but I felt it took away from their sigificance to me at the time. it was soon after I wrote them. Sometimes people think they are at a better place in rcovery, but I feel that part of that is an illusion. Just when you think you understand, you get bit in the but.

So these are a few of my poems, they came out of me to help me. If they help other that is great, but I do not think they are ordinary. More poems by abused people need to come to the light. We are many not few.
We are the majority not the minority.

Enjoy my poems.
 
Sometimes I feel like loving.

Sometimes I feel like tearing something apart.

Sometimes I feel like nothing.
 
There are no words...

there are so many feelings,

i have pushed them way down,

now i am retieving them back up,

so i do not have to drag them around.


Sometimes I do not want to do anything.

Just rest. Just be by myself.
 
Hi everyone, just a little down

I need to get outside today and enjoy the sun

The child in me needs to feel safe.
 
Billy two of my poems are published in the book "In Cabin Six"

It is important to get the word out.

Look under books for survivors

Book Edt. by Jill Kuhn
 
THERE ARE MANY POEMS OUT THERE, BUT NOT IN BOOKS WRITTEN BY ABUSED MALES, "IN CABIN SIX" IS THE ONLY ONE I KNOW OF WRITTEN BY SURIVIORS.
 
HI BILLY, HOPE YOU ARE MAKING IT IN FLORIDA.

NEW POEM

LITTLE MIKEY

I USED TO PLAY WHEN I WAS A KID

THEN ONE DAY WHEN I WAS TEN

I HAD SEX WITH MY COUSIN

THEN IT WAS HARDER TO PLAY

SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH ME,

I WAS BAD

NOW I SPEND MY ADULT LIFE

REALAZING HOW GREAT I AM.

I CAN PLAY AGAIN!

THANK YOU LITTLE MIKEY! :)
 
You know after my cousin had sex with me when I was ten I felt really bad, going to hell bad. I had noone to talk to. The subject of sexual abuse about boys was not talked about. I was scared and alone. I felt like an outcast from society. I was a fagot at that point. I did not feel like I fit in anywhere. There were no words to describe how I felt. Just me walking home from school having the dry heaves because I felt sick by the whole thing. It was a shitty thing to do to someone.
 
Tell your story till you are done.

The silence killed little mickey.

Michael screams and yells when he has to.

I want to feel all of my feelings.
 
You Bastard

Fucking touch me,
I dare you.
Fucking ruin my life,
You can only fucking try.

But I won't be ruined,
Just fucked up.
Fuck you for
Fucking up my life.

I wish your body could be
ripped apart by
wild fucking dogs.
Starting by ripping off
your fucking genitals.

I want you fucking
balls on a platter.
I want you to fucking die.
Take the pain you gave me,
and suck it down your throat.
You fucking Bastard.
Fucking leave my body alone.

By M. Joseph

Hope you understand where my poem is coming from. Thank you.
 
Thanks for sharing I was so touched by your eloquent and deeply moving words.

hugs and thankyou
 
Thank you for reading myy poems, I hope most can relate, they are theraputic for me.

Glad to share them with you.
 
I especially like the topic of this forum.

SILENCE

what a great use of irony since here is where expressions of innermost thoughts can be made through words - yet, in silence!

In this case, silence is golden.

I feel compelled to attempt to reveal some part of myself in a poem. I beg your indulgence:

The heavy table shelters me.
Once.
The tree shelters me.
Once.
A dash accross the gravel road, a visit with safety, in a house not my home.
I always go home.
I am too young to stay out all night, but not too young to be used,
confused,
abused,
perused for clues -some hidden insight.

I am the wise one, I am the child.
The other's sadness -my plight.

In taking from me,
a
memory
a
fancy-free possiblity. . .

In taking,
there is lost all hope.
He chokes
in guilt,

w i t h e r s

away.

I stagger on.


SG
 
thank you for the poem, I liked it.

We are together, this place helps me every

time I come here.

Thanks SG
 
we are not alone,

Once I thought I was all alone

I was mistaken

I am not alone

There are many like me

crying out for sanity in this

world where children are hurt

and neglected.

I am glad I survived.

I am glad you did too.
 
I really believe my last post. That is why I come back. We need to stick together. This is a great place for support. Everyone who is male and hurt should be here. 1/2 the world would be here then. We all hurt.
 
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