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Dark Matter: A Brief Chapbook of Poetry


By


ValkyrieKerry Kelly


1st Edition Kelly Media © 2016

2nd Edition Kelly’s Vision © 2018



Foreword


Kerry ‘Valkyrie’ Kelly considers herself to be a ‘Bipolar Survivor.’ Her struggle with the illness began with a period of depression in her teens, which formed the basis of a life-long struggle. Kerry did not hide from the dark shadows of the illness, but embraced them converting the dark feelings into words, the energy into action and the empathy into beauty.


Now in her forties Kerry has travelled to over 42 countries, learned to read in more than 15 languages, studied more than 100 professional qualifications and has experienced or trained in a wide variety of extreme and competitive sports. She found the light in the darkness.


This chapbook compilation contrasts the darkest emotions and aspects of human nature with poetic images of the world’s greatest beauty. Kerry shows the light in the darkness, the rays in the storm and demonstrates how the creative world can offer hope to those struggling with DEEP feelings; Dark, Emotional, Empathic and Pleasurable, by acknowledging the shadows openly and expressively, whilst revering beauty.




The Cyber Bully


Jemma should live in a kennel like all dogs! #slagsdonthavefriends


Did u c wot she woz wearin today?

Charity shop much

Ahhhh all alone at lunch saddo... puke it up girl.

Woof woof that's all I hear!

Y don't u fuck off and die?


Fuckin weirdo tried to cut her wrists #epicfail Sympathy, sympathy

I have no friends boo fuckin hoo!

Nerd alert…

Great day @skl chewing gum in hair, smackin that bitch tomoro!

Cry baby can't keep her legs shut!

Tellin tales makes u a loser n a grass.

Go home whinge to mummy!

Skank with a capital skank.


Trippin the biatch up all lunch, fuckin earthquake fat tub of lard

Omg did u smell her today dam


Rip Jemma, a lovely girl wish I could change the past, so sorry we never knew......



Sinister


Bugs swarm the skirting boards.

Ripped curtains, ghost in the wind,

Eyes sneak above the bed sheets.

Shadows storm moonlit walls,

Owls hoot.


Ghastly figures float across the ceiling, Pressure bears down on the bed,

Icy hands touch with monstrous tenderness, Shivers echo with pleading prayers.

Bats fly.


Corner chair wrecks and rocks, scraping. Branches claw angrily against rain stained panes,

Door flies shut, the iron lock slams down.

Shadows moan for release from purgatory, Blade stabs.



Esther's Compassion


Prodigal child Cain returns from the rock,

Hearing his tribe's falsehoods about resurrected Abel.

Risen from lonely purgatory to construct a family home,

Challenged like Job by a violent ungodly clan.


For eighteen moons Abel suffered unholy abuse,

Survivor of wrong speech, wrong action caused by no occupation.

Sweet, manly Abel toiling to provide manna and honey,

Humbly ignoring plaguing chariots of the wicked tribe.


Under God's glare the heathens fought for Abel's demise,

His obedient wife Esther wisely sought Malchezidek's counsel;

The wise priest recognised the injustices and advised,

Summoned a scribe to present the case to the Elders.


Ancients gathered in secret for many nights reflecting,

To protect Angelic Abel a delegation was dispatched,

Erupting the volcano of sin and torment toward Abel,

Like Sodom and Gomorrah the fallen sunk deeper in the abyss.


Abel and Esther bore every indignity with humility,

Waiting for divine moral law to save them, Reigning hell fire on the tribe turning it to ash.

Trusting in heavenly justice but the cruel summoned Cain.


Pure ignorance of God's law protecting the binds of family,

Cain once again turned against Abel walking with Satan,

Hellish words, the Devil's forked tongue wagged enviously.

Fires of wrath directed to Abel and Esther's loving compassion.


Esther's arms comforted Abel as the days grew dark,

Their own tribe protecting them with Michael's sword;

A throng of cherubim amassed against the grim legion,

Through faith, with hope, given charity Abel became Samson.


The amber sun rose fiercely on a new righteous era,

Prophets made the truth known around the Euphrates.

Elders returned with the scribes' dense scrolls,

All is revealed, all is told of the devilment of Cain's tribe.

To exile the sinful tribe depart, losing all to the desert,

All is known; violence, covetousness, ire and Devil's lies.

The Elders punish Cain's tribe according to God's law,

Brimstone beats down as Abel's halo glows.


Esther's love and humility in the moonlight save Abel,

Adoration of the right and clinging onto light,

Allowing the just to oversee the process of justice.

Abel's tribe thrive,

Cain's condemned to eternal shame.


Let those who have ears hear

Love thy neighbour is true of all creeds....

Break the cycle of hate, destructive circles have no end!



Purgatory


Stuck all alone at sea,

Terrifying cold needles penetrating his skin, Unseen, agonising needles.

Perishing below the surface of the water, Wedged between ice after ice.


Nothing in sight

Not even boat wreckage, no evidence of his origins,

Purgatory, searing pain, stuck unable to reach the shore. Destined to freeze on the shore,

Paralyzed, his arms flail, his toes die, and purple encompasses his feet.


Desperately pulling himself forward, tears in eyes,

Nothing, no movement, no birds swooped in the vile air.

Not his world or the world he hoped to go to but somewhere in- between,

Excruciation crept up his legs; drilling, boring holes through his thighs.

Dying, joining his wasted feet, bobbing as if ripped in half by a hungry shark.


A torso with no hope, trapped terrifyingly between life and death, time prolonged.

Mountainous snow gleaming from afar, burning his eyes, he pleads for redemption, Morphing hills become monstrous waves holding fast in the sky, menacingly waiting,

Murder weighs down his conscious; his crimes.

The waves tumble, crashing hard, slow motion, torturing....


Stuck all alone at sea,

Terrifying cold needles penetrating his skin, Unseen, agonising needles.

Perishing below the surface of the water, Wedged between ice after ice.



L'amour de la mer


I catch my breath, sinking in the deep garden,

Caressed by tepid, salty water and stroked by weed,

Swamped with the sounds of my gasping breath,

Opened to the delights of the living Eden Sea.


Rocky, circular, cream funnels of swirling coral,

Decorated with juicy, emerald plants and mauve wisps,

Pulsating, burgundy spikes of nature cling to fossil,

Glowing fish, golden and turquoise zebras swim directionless.


Sandy intervals carpeted with amber starfish and grey rays,

Marine silver streaks dart around rapidly,

Elegant painted jellies blob freely dangling purple tentacles,

Herds of sapphire pointy fins roll, like a cloud, into view.


Cautiously a spiked tooth barracuda infiltrates the family,

Hunting sneakily with a fearsome expression,

Reluctantly I rise viewing two shapely dolphins dancing,

Silhouettes on paradise's horizon,

I take a longing last glance.


Pure euphoria drowns my spirit, engulfs it with hope,

Golden rays penetrate the surface feeding the land below,

I sink, finally at peace, to sleep forever in perfection,

The gold evolves, white light stuns drawing me to a new paradise.



Mind Games


My house is not my own,

A destructive relationship I have outgrown, Plummeting fists, a kick, nastiness I used to receive,

In desperation I ended it, packed his stuff and asked him to leave!


My house is not my own,

A court order I need to remove my vile abuser.

His savage rapes in our town are domestic,

I am the loser,

Bank accounts arid as the money he stole,

Paid for drink, betting and a woman riding a pole.


My house is not my own,

I begged the sheriff to make him leave me alone,

Through puffy blackened eyes my tears fell heavily,

Muttering painfully as torn lips and chipped teeth shredded me.


My house is not my own, my body is not my own, my money is not my own,

My dignity is not my own, my freedom is not my own, my life is not my own!


My house is now my own.

I wait in it safe, but all alone,

For the impending day when my pain free eyes close,

When the needle is prepped for my final, eternal doze.

Punishment I have had before,

For not finishing a household chore,

But for what he has done to his loving wife; His punishment came at the end of a knife.

I will be in God's house forever more.



China Doll


Lost by the roadside, ignored,

Unwanted girl, tears poured.

Rickshaws crowd the streets, Garbage to their callous eyes;

Iced skin, breathless heart beats,

Itching, scarlet rash smothers her thighs.


Tore from her ditch by unloving hands,

Wrapped in itchy rough sackcloth bands, Banished to a filthy crib the howling baby,

Doused with cool waters, surrounded by screams.

In a wicked place, hope from a childless couple maybe,

A loving warm home, adoring parents, fills too many dreams.



Once Upon an Eyeball


Sadistic torture!

Syringe steadily moving,

Expecting stinging;

Agonising pain.

Penetrating the iris,

Lids ripped away!

Dry biting the lens,

Needle twisting viciously.


Torn out abruptly!

Drowned by her own screams;

Tied hands furiously clench,

Scalpel glints menacing.

Sharp cuts throb, tears fall.

Crimson droplets hit her cheek;

Salt thrashes the wounds.

Searing pain thrusts in,

Dark fluid pours profusely.


Eye gouged slowly,

Released tormented,

Once upon a lost eyeball Torture lamented!



Bless me......


Bless me father for I have sinned,

It has been six months since my last confession.

My sin is one of the flesh,

My body has been the temple of the Bishop, The Bible teaches that homosexuality is wrong,

That partaking in sodomy is a sin to be smited,

Though I had little choice my sin still exists,

Forgive me father...


God bless you my son,

Remember the seal of confession is sacred, God forgives those who do not break the seal,

Go my son and take silence as your penance, For God is almighty and just!



Stockholm


Groggily awoken by pressure on the wrist, Tightening Iron rubbing tender flesh.

She whimpers at unfamiliar surroundings,

Crackling hearth, stone walls and vast velvet master bed.


He enters, a giant shadow looming on teak boards,

Swaying jet hair, an awesome gait.

Refusing hot broth, she rises his fury,

The firm fling of his hand mellows her spirit.


Gentle gusts flow through barred windows, Curtains dance in the ember's glow,

Warming her in satin sheets,

His sturdy hand menaces and protects.


The weight lifts as the chains fall,

Dawn rays soak her stinging eyes,

Crimson fluid seeps once the pressure releases, Imprisoned in the barred citadel.


Punished with each hysterical outburst,

Growing weary as the days shorten,

Flinching less at his caresses,

Her old life disappears into a vague dream.


He reads the classics, she listens resigned, Etiquette expected at each romantic meal;

An orchestra fills her, as does her captor.

As she relents his wrath gives way.


The New Year begins in the harshest frost,

Curled in a plush scarlet sofa she reaches, Takes his hand tenderly and cherishingly,

Pulling his firm form into her, offering her loving surrender.

Tiptoe


Treading daintily on glass,

She tries not to wake him;

Frightened of his wrath.

Her sight sore with black eyes dim.


Timorously preparing lunch,

Removing every glint of dust,

Shaking deep inside her prison,

Quaking at the prospect of his evil lust.


Wearing glass shoes daily,

Praying for strength to escape,

Knowing her violent death is imminent,

One foot wrong and the glass splinters cracked by the ape.



Broken Balcony


As they sat on the balcony sheep mosied below, chewing grass on the moist, emerald blades,

Far beyond across the green an ancient tree stood motionless.


With pale skin and sunken oak eyes his dry lips parted,

'I want my freedom,

I have my life, and through chemo it has now been granted.'

A sullen hand reached shakily up and scratched his hair free head.


Her sapphire eyes glistened with heartfelt tears,

She had visited the hospital every day,

And now he had his life back through the all clear, his aim was to throw her away.


Both sipped their dark blackcurrant and looked on ahead,

At the wise, emotionless tree that had lived for so long,

And he listened with a new awoken joy to the bluebirds whistling a song.


But something inside him was stirring, an anger he could not deny,

Hidden from his beloved, disrupted and broken inside,

An awkwardness grew and before he could stop the words spilled out.


'There is someone else, I do not want you, I have found somebody, somebody new,

‘Now go through the doors and leave me alone,

‘Give me a chance to bring my true love back home.'


In sadness and rage she fled from the scene,

Confused by his words after all that had been,

He stared with some longing after her, but he was disjointed not mean.


A short time passed, her car drove down the hill,

Forever lost now he could break his hardened seal,

The tears started coming and they just would not cease.


From under the pitcher he recovered his medical notes,

A terminal patient for whom there is no hope,

But in truth he had done his best,

Better heart-broken now than watch him laid to rest.


With Love always, to my Dear Brother David Mark Baldock. I promise you will never be forgotten xxxx



Forgotten


Christmas, Warm lights, Candles on table; Family laughing, eating, sharing,

Fire crackles rampantly in hearth.


Snow cascades spraying Georgian windows. Red double decker buses occasionally pass. Carol singers wander door to door collecting.


An old, cold fragile woman peeps in longingly, Regretting not having her own family or ideal career.

Shivering in the perishing ice she swigs a stolen whiskey;

Remembering old London when the bombs fell, hiding beneath terrace stairs,

Sadness at being taken from her Mummy on the train up North,

Elation, playing on the farm, muddied boots, cows calving, dogs and cats running,

Returning an orphan to an unwelcoming aunt and drinking the years away sadly alone,

How times had changed,

How many possibilities had passed by lost in the bottom of bottles?


Sun,

Rising slowly,

Glinting on snow,

Stockings are torn open,

Sales money ready to spend.

Someone has left a raggy pile;

Families trip not stopping to see, rushing, Stumble, clatter, and fall!

The Police are rapidly called.

There she lies wearing all her belongings heartlessly frozen,

There she lies forgotten, another homeless, madman, recluse or drunk.

NO! Another let down life killed by neglect with a story to tell, a story forever lost,

A wounded soul forgotten!



The Seasonal Affect


The evenings get darker;

Darkness sets in.

The snow gets thicker;

Sadness overwhelms me.


The nights grow longer;

Long moods plague.

The sky clouds over;

Mind is clouded.


The air is heavy;

Body weighs down.

The rain beats harshly;

Tears fall readily.


Mist drifts at dawn;

Fog engulfs brain.

Ice coats cool roads,

Heart coolly breaks.



Dream House


Dreams have no beginning or end, Mobius continuums of the mind!

Repeating an idea, haunting the host,

Visions of a house, reflections of the mind,

Tudor in architecture,

Georgian windows, a mansion.


Plush ground floor, awe-inspiring heavy wooden doors.

Clock chiming before the stairs, diverging at the apex,

Wooden floors, wooden doors, wooden chairs in the dining suite,

Velvet lounge, banqueting suite, kitchens and staff area.


Bedroom after bedroom adorned with mirrors and Victorian furnishings.

My room, interconnected to two others, completely crimson,

Queen bed, chaise-longue, red like my cottage outside,

Two rear cases lead to the top floor, bedrooms with dormer windows.


Less exquisite, more scruffy, less tidy, something lies beyond;

A rear case to a hidden attic shrouded in heavy darkness, forbidding,

One room after another,

Boxes of old belongings;

Trashed, stashed, ghostly,

Terrifying!

Desperate to leave, hypnotically drawn in to face spirits of the past.



Claustrophobia


Arms wedged painfully across her chest;

The air is thin.

She puffs for every aching breath,

Struggling from head to shin.


Frighteningly entombed in a wooden cage;

The air is damp.

She claws and scratches until nails shed and bleed,

Intervened by cramp.


No room to punch, she screams herself hoarse,

The air is stifling.

She sobs fearing being buried alive,

Through her pockets rifling.


Not her choice of clothes, no phone or bag,

The air is mournful,

Does eternity mean laying here?

For a life lived so scornful?



Blame


Beating music slowed to a dull thrum,

Her mind swam distorted, inebriated.

Bodies moved closely in the distance;

Sofas amassed with writhing forms.

Overcome with fatigue, needing sleep,

Stumbling from raucous room to room.


Finally succumbing alone to disorientation, Lids drooping heavily over worn vessels, Breathing slowed, heartbeat filling ears,

Tunes becoming distant, voices muffled, nothing!


Suddenly she wakes, she hurts, and she is smothered.

A blurred form has forced his way in,

She cannot move, fear or drink,

She cannot move!


Staggering helplessly through the empty streets;

Torn dress, ripped tights, shoes absent.

Tears and make-up stain her beautiful face,

She shakes, shocked and ashamed.

To the oracle she ambles, blood crust staining her thighs,

Hoping for salvation, dreading confession.


The Oracle listens intensely, says nothing, and advises her to clean,

She washes the evidence away and freshens herself.


Climbs into a waiting taxi ready to carry on with life,

Each day her mind suffers in turmoil, the memories relived,

Friends and work fall away, no one helps.


She is invited to a party and addresses the Oracle,

The foolish Oracle advises,

'That's how you got yourself in trouble before!'



Ballyhoffman in Falun


She should have married on All Hallows Eve,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.

But the roaring ocean carried her handsome man away,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.


Every anniversary in bridal dress she kneels by the sea,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.

She waits patiently for her Groom to return,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.


Living as a recluse only leaving her home to walk,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.

Withering over time, staring at her wizened reflection,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.


Until one dark night the masterful sea spews his body,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.

He rises shaking in his matrimonial suit, pasted with coral,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.


Holding hands in cool silence they step into the sea whispering vows,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,

Two seaweed-soaked corpses tread the sands on All Hallows Eve,

On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.



Gargoyle


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

Your demonic face etched in the stone wall,

Grimacing over the ruined manor,

Centuries of gloating at misfortune.


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

Evil spirit blighting potato crop,

Sad, starved farmers evicted in the night,

Envying the Landlord's glutton and warmth,

As shoeless children submit to the ice.


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

Haunting our emotions with bitterness, Possessing the clergy, turning their backs,

Slamming doors shut on your helpless victims, Metamorphosing, taking true form, Influencing mischief in sinful souls,

Destroying the innocent, cruel whispers.


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

Overlooking green pastures with green eyes,

Driving high tides to drown scared fisherman,

Plundering boats as you rain down thunder, Trashing worker's small homes with violent floods,

Smashing lobster pots and reels with true glee,

Persuading politicians: Act of God,

No subsidy is given to the poor!


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

When the landlord steals the tenant`s new bride?

When conflict grows across social strata?

When violent abuses go unpunished?

When the rich thrive at the poor man's expense?

When the masses despair and take up arms?

When young men are sacrificed for country? When freedom fighters are executed?

When charities judge the needy worthless?


Do you laugh at us Gargoyle?

We need no monsters, we are your monsters,

With your sinful shadow corrupting our souls!



Pain of Fatigue


Creeping tendrils spewing up my spine, Aching, pressure, crucifying tired bones,

Bent over with crippling apathetic stings, Zombified, paralyzed agony spreading.


Heavy, loafing, swollen, puffy thighs,

My shins must belong to someone else,

Numb ankles barely joined to tingly feet,

Reddened worn out knees, clicking loudly.


Dry flaky skin, chapped, shredded lips, Blackened, dark hollows replacing eyes, Enlarged, blocked nose, spot covered, Limp hair, arid as the sun-drenched desert.


Blurring mind confused by every word, Irritable, unable to comprehend stimuli, Desperate to lay, desperate to sleep,

Drifting, floating, and falling! Waking Anew!



Mark's Ants


Flying ants crack their whips,

Encircling soldiers and workers,

Flying ants crack their whips,

Starving and killing all shirkers.


Queen ants labour their hands,

Ignoring the soldier's poor plight,

Queen ants labour their hands,

Never needing to fight for a right.


Black and red ants starve by the hive,

Absorbing the wise words of the dead,

Black and red ants starve by the hive,

Ready to storm for the chance to be fed.


The red ants are flying ants now,

Poor black ants driven far and wide,

The red ants are flying ants now,

For non-supporters there's nowhere to hide.


Red ants are workers, soldiers and officers,

That is the underlying premise of equality, Red ants are workers, soldiers and officers,

The way it has always been it always shall be!



Occasionally


And now once again I'm alone,

Can feel the pain from many times before,

Lost hopelessly melting in my own home, Disregarded and treated like a whore.


My feelings matter to no one,

Just a convenience for all that I see,

Heart shattered, burden of a ton,

Wishing I could disintegrate, fail to be.


Dark days have plagued me constantly,

False accusations, abuses, maltreatment and more,

I smile, hiding tears and act nonchalantly,

Concealing a soul so old, worn and painfully sore.


There's a coldness in here freezing my eyes,

Choking on the foulness of solitary confinement,

Smothered with malicious tales told by spies, Sad, awash with fatigue, displaying refinement.


Nothing can warm this broken-down shell,

My words are emotions bleeding on the page,

The terrifying truth is I'm trapped in hell,

Given occasional comfort by promises of the sage.


Shut the door when you happen by me,

Pull the drapes to lock me away,

I am an island lost in a swarming sea,

Let my agony disappear and suffering not display.



Dear Departed


You have not gone,

You are still here,

Hidden behind a fine veneer.


Hot kettle's moisture,

A gentle mist fair,

Changing your form into warm risen air.


Having merged with light,

Eternally laughing at life,

Spirit's learning completed having overcome strife.


And when we mourn we cannot see,

Your glowing heavenly soul now travelling free...



Thank you for reading


Also by this Author:


Bipolar Moods: Pole to Pole

Trigger Warning: Twisted Tales (2018)

Promises of an Afterlife

Artist or Madman

Tackling the Bear: Creative Self-Help









ValkyrieKerry Kelly

Kelly’s Vision © 2018




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