The Healing

We’ll be healed

We’ll be fine

Once we’re done

With all the cryin.

Cross the days

Count the nights

This very darkness

Will be our light.

I feel the future

Together life renewed

We’ll get through this

Just me and you.

-Ramona Arena 2016

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Heroes..

(**PROFANITY ALERT**)

 

All of you heroes

You wannabe knights in shining armor

Think you can rescue a damsel in distress…

I have 2 words for you –

1. Fuck

2. Off.

This stupid game of pretend you play

Is my daily reality.

Fully convinced only you have the secret code to remove the spell,

Only you hold the magic key to release the curse,

Your kiss alone, shall rescue the princess!

Breaking news for you,

It can’t and it won’t.

Fool yourself, but I see through.

This is not from your heart –

Not even good intent

So spare me your illusion

The speech of unshakable love.

It’s your lame man ego is all –

The hunter that rules the house;

The one in the drivers seat that needs no directions;

The one that can fix everything, never needing to ask for a hand.

Keep running around your own house

With your super hero cape and mask.

Wash your dirty hands.

Rinse that filthy mouth.

I’ll say it again –

I see right through you

No. You cannot fix me.

I’m not a fucking experiment

I’m not a fucking toy

I’m not an exciting riddle to crack.

Don’t wanna be your muse either

To be tossed on a whim, into the trash.

See unlike your inner coward

I actually do invest

I traverse all my millions of fears

Believing in your best.

But this cold blooded creature now,

Has built an unrecognisably hard shell,

Retracting  within a second

Cuz your ‘commitments’ fail the smallest test.

So I say this yet again,

With much respect

Fuck Off you heroes

You ain’t got a chance in hell.

– Ramona Arena 2016

Of Fairytales and…

Stupid girl

Gullible fool

Can you not see through

What he’s trying to do?

It’s the oldest trick

Experience can’t hide

He won’t take no

It’s a matter of pride.

So stop being daft

Prancing in your bubble

This unicorn’s a dragon

He’s good at nothing but trouble.

Stop listening

To all he says

Use the brain you’re given

Don’t be another number in his bed.

– Ramona Arena 2016

 

Traumatic Progression To Nothing

For every gift I was given,

To find out – like Santa – the giver was fiction.

For every promise carefully packaged

To arrive broken; faster than UPS Express could deliver.

For all the times my rusty window was forced open

Stripping even the hollowness out of the hollow.

There’s nothing now for anyone and so it shall stay-

Useless, barren and bare.

Oh wait- there’s only one thing that lingers

The stench of morbid despair.

-Ramona Arena 2016.

 

Games (Part 2)

Used on repeat

Deceived each time

Pitifully dumb

Their loyalty stays blind.

 

This disease, this herd mentality

All they do is suffer

Believing various Gods

Will miraculously make it better.

 

Sacrifice a child,

Marry a tree

Pollute mother nature

With your sins in her purity.

 

Only this,

Will rid you off your karma

Poverty is your destiny

Surrender your money, with your daughters.

 

Imbeciles!!!

Driving us all to doom

Believing in tradition

Unable to fathom the very anthem they croon.

 

They stay trapped in their misery

Frustrated and lost

Dripped in hypocrisy

This damage is beyond cost.

 

-Ramona Arena 2016

 

**DISCLAIMER: This poem does not reflect on any country, party, organization or corporation, religion or any other such thing in particular. It is an artistic expression of thought – as all my other writing is.

 

 

Games (Part I)

They been playin

Playin dirty

Dirty with minds

Minds they keep illiterate

On a tight leash they’ve kept disguised.

 

Foolish thoughts encouraged,

Have led to fragile times.

Impulsive, emotional reactions,

Never thought through with a rational mind.

 

What about the repercussions?

What about the damage?

What about shameless absurdity?

What about their crimes?

 

Who dares ask such questions

Big bucks and powers allied

Quickly silence their voices,

Arrest them, rape their wives.

 

Democracy is an illusion

They can never let it thrive

How will they ever benefit

Through harmony and equal rights?

 

So beasts and wildlings’ve been bred

For a majority of free willed votes.

They’ll gulp down anything without a doubt

Like unsuspecting, to-be-slaughtered goats.

-Ramona Arena 2016

 

**DISCLAIMER: This poem does not reflect on any country, party, organization or corporation, religion or any other such thing in particular. It is an artistic expression of thought – as all my other writing is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

How Far May I Go?

‘How far may I go?’

I ask my mind.

‘Seeing how

You confine yourself physically

To the parameters of a walled box,

Not very far I’m afraid’

It said.

 

‘How far may I go?’

I asked my heart.

‘Seeing how

You confine yourself emotionally,

Torturing and blaming yourself for love’s evasive existence,

Not very far I’m afraid’

It said.

 

‘How far may I go?’

I then asked my soul.

‘Seeing how

You confine yourself spiritually,

To the earthly limitations of humanity,

Not very far I’m afraid’

It said.

 

‘How far may I go?’

I finally asked God.

‘Seeing how

You are so desperate to believe,

In my existence, in justice, in miracles and hope,

Not very far I’m afraid’

Said… ?

-Ramona Arena 2016