Prototype of Abusers
 

"They are arrogantly abusive, negatively intrusive; all uninvited guests" 

Compiling this section made my soul hurt. I feel like I've wrestled a demon; hidden deep inside of me. The only way I could win was to set the demon free. I feel the affect of the pain in the recesses of my soul as it watches the flesh me stumble and fall; the pain intensified when it can't help me.

I’m like a baby, learning to crawl. I'm told that life is about experiences, not lessons for me to learn. Tragically, my past experiences are not saving me from harm. These tears that fall from my eyes are like acid on my flesh, because the pains are still without, lurking and waiting to enter and hurt.

"From the very beginning of my life, I was aware that my abusers were from a generation of abusers. Thus I was born enslaved to pain. My mind locked these pains in worlds that were as vast as the universe. And low and behold I became heir to a world of hope killers and watched helplessly as each took turns plying their trade on my mind, body, and spirit."

Mindlocks

Death
She slid out of the chair;
clapped her hands over her head three times.
The bloody rag fell from between her legs.
Took four men to pick her up, put her in the bed.
Finally, the doctor pulled the pillow
from beneath her head.
She exhaled. Her body went limp.

Burial
The crowd sang, "Will the circle be unbroken".
Her eyes blinked and a tear fell down her cheek.
It seemed like an eternity,
watching the last shovel of dirt
thrown on her mother's coffin.
Her father took her hand and led her away.
A few months later, she landed in hell.

Resurrection
She bent over like a good little girl,
taking her medicine in the only way
that pleased her master, from the backside.
Her life fluid splashing everywhere,
knees cemented on the cold floor.
Head hung like a chicken with a broken neck.
Lips firmly shut as she screamed in sheer agony,
her mind counting the days when she
would be old enough, to leave home.

Hell
Becoming a woman before her time.
Being enslaved as the family whore,
while giving birth to bastards
and daily called the black sheep.
She lived like this for years,
Before discovering, she was asleep,
destroying herself in past mind locks.

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 4/3/2002. All rights reserved.

"And I learned at an early age the demeanor of the men that were in my world. Programmed to accept their abuse since I was a child, I was easy prey to any man who desired to play a cat and mouse game with my mind."

TURNING back the clock to HEAL

when i was thirteen
raped and beaten by a brother
bloodied and barely walking
family believing that
children should be seen and not heard
i went to the system
for relief
they sent me home
you see
in Mississippi
when little black girls
were attacked by men
it didn't count

i used to wonder why
little black girls weren't protected
gathering courage
i asked the forbidden question
at the corner store
the white man laughed out loud
he said, "did u tel your folks?"
"yessir," i said
he asked, "wel wat dey du?"
"sir?", i said
he repeated, "wat dey du gal?"
for a minute i stood dazed
tears rolling down my face
"nothing," i whispered

i don't know if you understand
the humiliation of being
raped by a man
whom you loved and trusted
using words as hard as dicks
it's all the same
on one hand
it feels like i am still
in Mississippi
on the other hand
i wish someone cared

i felt so dirty

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"When I reached out for help years later, the catalyst of a stranger verbally attacking me through a computer sent me whirling into the forbidden zone of my abusive parallel worlds with no warning."

Mama's Little Girl

I used to think
Words couldn't hurt
My mother taught me
A little song

"Sticks and stones will break your bones
but words will never hurt"

MAMA LIED.

I used to believe
I would never take a human's life
my Mother taught me
A little verse

"The bible says thou shall not kill"

I OBEYED.

now these names you called me
a stranger
talking under my clothes
sight unseen
voice unheard
hiding behind a wall of glass
no champion to defend my honor
if thoughts could kill
i'd be attending your funeral

"Momma, if you're listening
i gotta question for you
where were you
when i was being raped
by your child?"

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And with each filthy word this stranger uttered from his mouth, typed in black and white for all the world to see, I was trapped in my own mind, where I could no longer escape the reality of the color of my abuser’s face. A black face hidden behind a white wall."

A Verbal Rape

He parted my mind,
the same way some men part a woman’s legs
… a prelude to love making
… but some men part women's legs uninvited.
When caught, society punishes them for rape,
sometimes.

Millions watched behind glass screens
as he intruded into my mind, uninvited
… forcing me to relive past rapes
of my body, mind, and spirit.

To free myself from his grip,
I relived each intrusion in poetic creations, and
I was left naked for the entire world to see,
but in the end his intrusion set me free.

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And I felt trapped by this hideous invasion that forced me to travel back in time and face what I had been trying so hard to get past, my parallel worlds of abuse. This is not how I wanted it. I just wanted understanding, not more abuse."

A Down Side To Country Living

kinky hair. large lips. an adult body
on a child. this country girl never
smiled. shy in her delivery. hiding
without to escape within. one ragged
dress; mended, starched, and pressed

still old on young body, waiting, and
jumping at every sound. midnight
comes and go, dawn finds her in fetus
position. her legacy reduced to a tiny dot
lying in the center of a liquid red carpet

on a cold linoleum floor. prying the knife
from her fingers, peering deep within
glassy eyes; her sister kneeled beside her
and cried. to late for country girl who
never knew love. abused all her life

cursed as her mother’s sister. forced
to be her father’s wife; giving birth to a
brother. body died at thirteen, spirit
expired at five. evening news reported
teenage commits suicide. leaving the

world to wonder why, a mother burying
her only child, seemingly, remorseless
never cried. but time found her, wrapped
in a white blanket, dyed by the color red
with the eyes of her child that was dead

--- abuse; that's what it's like?

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson 6/22/2001. All rights reserved.

"And I sat at the other end of my computer, watching as thousands of people, who said they loved me, allowed this man to attack me without mercy, and something inside of me died."

In A Minute

A child
got on the elevator alone
eyes were slanted
skin was fair
hair was like lamb's wool

A man
stepped on the child's toe
smiling out of the corner
of his mouth

The child
cried silent tears
eyes gyrating in pain
for ten stories down

The man
got off on the first floor
The child collapsed

and everyone simultaneously
judged each other for not acting

While the child laid on the floor in agony

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And I fell into desolation as the blood was beaten from my body, yet something in me still refused to yield to the bad fruit in these abusive men. Something inside of me steered me on, always whispering that all men were not this bad ... but in my world they were."

Souring Relationships

Bang!

Like Frazier after Ali
Mutafussin' god of boxin'

he slapped her
screaming with unbridled rage
raising his hands to encircle her neck
hoping to choke the life out of her

but Ali's brains fried after Frazier
and Forman made a comeback
conceited . . . nope, just confident

blinded by the desire to destroy her
he didn't see the gun

Bang!

with no color or unnecessary backgrounds
his blood blended with the red sheets
where moments before
they had just made love

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And in every world I landed in I was bombarded with memories of past abuse. Fighting back the only way I knew how, I just kept running from one memory to another, searching for a way out of this nightmare."

an I S L A N D of one

clichés are gifted with immortality
born to be utilized
kept animated by that use

"the more things change
the more they remain the same"

one hundred years
and we're still trying to overcome
what our former
tormentors
think of us as human beings
like a sheep led to the slaughter
we are taught
to fight the abuse
of the white man
but we must lie down
and allow the abuse
of the black man
in silence
lest we embarrass our people
in front of our former
masters

"the more things change
the more they remain the same"

PROGRAMMED ABUSE

i take it back
i don't know shit
i'd rather stand
alone and friendless

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And all my dreams were nothing but dust. There was no hope, no faith, or no love that I could see. And I looked within the abyss of myself, to try and free this poor little abused child I had become. For inside myself were the seeds of innocence, my abusers were feeding on. They didn’t know that it had become a seething pot of hot raw rage."

LOWER CASE i CRY

You can't cut me up in pieces
one minute
Forcing me to show my wounds
Exposing my disgust
With loved ones that raised me
To hate myself for being myself
In front of millions of invisible eyes
And expect me to forgive you
The next minute

i haven't grown that far yet

The wounds are still too fresh
i lost friends because of our battle
The stand i took
Cost me people i valued
In this glass world

i don't know if it was a good thing
To take our clothes off in public

i just know that
It took a lifetime for me to heal
From the last attack on my self-worth
Nothing will ever be the same
There were great casualities

i felt the wind blow past me
Exposing the need for forgiveness
But my wounds are still too raw
Only the scabs of time
Can heal the scars you left
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe never

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"Time had caught up with me and it was too late for me to save myself ... but I saved the other little children. For I had been programmed from abuse, to abuse myself. And after the fight was out of me I succumbed to the void that filled my very being. I searched within myself, seeking and turning the clock back into my past worlds searching for the child in me that was lost. Like a voyeur, I watched as my soul hurt from the pains I was suffering. But it didn‘t stop me from saving the children."

When Enough Is Enough

He was a razor sharp Mack
Pimp suit the color of gold
Played a game as old as time
Selling babies like two bit whores

~ The candy man coming
~ The children yelled

Eating treats, admiring gold chains
Chicken hawks, he winked and smiled

Ain't nuthin' butta black thang

He was slicker then grease
Bribing the cops to step aside
Car crammed with fresh meat
Stroking his assets as he rise

~ Candy man coming
~ His customers yelled

Vying for boys with drugged brains
Rich Johns chock-full with depravities

Ain't nuthin' butta black thang

He was richer then the president
Driving a dazzling car around town
Dressed in fine designer clothes
No one dared to put him down

~ Bull dog coming
~ The community yelled

Disgusted with his huge gold rings
Purchased by innocent blood

Ain't nuthin' butta black thang

He was the coldest man around
Gangs spoke his name with respect
But the story was never told
when his kingdom came under attack

~ Mothers coming
~ The children yelled

Dressed in jeans with sticks and bats
Descended on Mack Razor Sharp
Trying to escape he broke his back

Ain't nuthin' butta black thang

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"Caught in a vortex of insanity, I was forced to look back at my pain ... thus I fell into a time warp ... and for the first time I recalled from whence I came, in this lifetime, in its totality. The world of my birth was a bitter and dark place. For I could go no further without going back into that dark place to find some loving memories to bring me out of this world of pain. All of a sudden, a calm rage consume me as I traveled back into a time where I did not desire to be."

This Space Taken

I found living in a vacuum so hard
to take, so I ventured out, crossed
lines I didn't make. Unaware of
marked territories; posted signs,
warnings plastered on invisible lines …

But there he was, standing in
my space, with a body and a head
that had no face. He aroused in me
the need to escape, I turned to run,
but was bitten by a snake …

Its poison seeped into a hole
already made, I swore this secret
should not go to my grave. Believing,
like any little child of twelve,
that if I told, I would go to hell …

But as time passed, I became fat,
and little girls like me, just didn’t
do that. My body had swollen like
a little round ball, as the seed
of the snake begun to crawl …

I was questioned about the lines
I'd crossed, told by others my soul
was lost. Locked away in a house
that had no floor, fed twice a day,
though a hole in the door ...

I didn’t have a voice that anyone
would hear, so I lived my days in
darkness and fear. Soon the seed
of the snake crawled out of me,
stomach went down; body released …

I heard a small cry, but I didn’t
understand, that I had given birth to a
little brown man. I felt a stirring
deep within my heart, lost when
they ripped the two of us apart …

Years passed before I finally
understood why, broken hearted,
I couldn’t even cry. They said the child
was born in shame, killed, because
it had worn my brother’s name …

Now, it’s easy to live in a vacuum
everyday. I’ve created lines that keep
everyone at bay. Marked the territories
around my mind, "keep out" written
boldly on invisible signs …

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"And although I put my childhood abuse into perspective ... during my visit back to my past, a new predator raised it ugly head ... Pride. I didn’t even know I had any. It tricked me, and in order to hold on to my pride, it required constant healing."

The Constant Healing of Pride

Pride sits waiting

bored into insanity
gambling on a sound mind
planted seeds of distinction
in the heart of arrogance
that spreads its venom
everywhere
leaving a bitter taste
in its orbit

Pride sits whispering

you're the almighty
you can do anything
to arrogant shame
the trap sprung
like electrical overloads
destroying
all traces of it

Pride sits lurking . . .

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"For years I tried to heal myself and my pride. It was impossible to heal what had been stolen by so many. I received no help and had no where to turn. So I did the only thing I could do, when I am pushed into a corner I can’t get out … I fought back. You see, I was already walking dead, so I had nothing to lose but a body, mind, and spirit that had been so abused it felt nothing, and nothing felt it."

The Blues

The blues is not just song by B. B. King
Some women can attest to this claim

The blues is a man’s fist upside your head
Raping you while you sleep in your bed

Leaving the household expenses unpaid
Beating you down making you his slave

I begged you to let me go free, but you
Refused, shouting, that you’d rather kill me

So when I came home with a magnum 44
I set his duffel bag beside the front door

I told him, he doesn’t live here anymore
He kicked my body across the wood floor

He broke my collarbone; bruised my cheeks
Now he’s being carried out by his two feet

Remorseful tears fall from purple-black eyes
all I can do now, is suffer with regrets, and cry

Oh oh my darling
Our life, replayed, for all to see
Oh oh my darling
I killed you, cause, you killed me

Everyday my healing bones make me strong
Teaching me, I can make it on my own

A new life for me, and a cold grave for you
I once lived in lies now I bathe in the truth

Oh oh my darling,
My pain, my shame, replayed
Oh oh my darling,
My love lies in your cold grave

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, Rev'd 7/22/98. All rights reserved.

"But nothing I did worked. I only knew how to love abusive men, or folks that abused me. I got so good at abusing myself, I didn’t even need anyone else to do it. I lost myself fighting for myself. Justice was very twisted. It was okay for others to hurt me, but when I fought back, I was persecuted. I had nothing left and no life, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I cheated justice."

Twisted Justice

In the midst of noise she sat very still, long black crimped hair, framed a face void of color, drooping down thin shoulders; a gift from anorexia.

She had watched him for years from a place inside of herself. Hands that had lovingly embraced her choked her until her nose bleed. She cursed herself for defending him, blaming his cruelty on her failure to please. She had been obsessed with loving him, even when he killed their unborn son; even as the bullets tore through his chest sending her into hysterics.

She sat so quietly, stunned and detached, while lawyers debated her case like high school boys. Her lifeless eyes fixed on witnesses scorned, lawyers rewriting truth in conjecture, the jury deftly served with mustard colored lies; offered up as proof of her innocence or guilt. Was it murder or mercy, defense or revenge? Either way, her husband was dead. Their actions sickened her.

To them, she hardly existed. She was just another headline, another case, a number on a photo, a docket; a cause. How very odd her life had been, drifting in and out of consciousness, using stimulants to face the mystery of existence; of loss.

No place to run where he could not find her. Adopted by strangers, he had been her only family. She listened as her lawyers denigrated him, while still; within her heart she loved him. She wanted to die for taking his life.

In the middle of the trial, fate stepped in, bearing a gift of a tender mercy. Her body slipped down in slow motion releasing its hold on the soul. No one noticed, in the midst of noise

Copyrighted by Linda J. Malonson, 7/25/2001. All rights reserved.