Intent

Ominous looks ravage just because you are six and you ripped your sister’s prayer book.

Cain’s splintered shadow
washing over your eyelids
in callous spirit.

The Priest’s voice sharpens as incrimination’s blade.

At battlefield of messed up selves,
your fierce survival chop apart
dysfunctions, as hypocrites sob
for fruit withering on the vine,
while trauma-hammer’s beating ruins.

Ridicule batters you to pieces, tears to tatters, tramples, rips, razes, and burns.

The beast could eat you;
you would not even know it
with numbed emotions.

Black crosses, unflinching, point to your demise.

You’re empty, aching, eating crow
from hands of nuns on endless hours.
A phoenix out of blazing shame,
do not give up your soul, your creed
reminds you to absolve yourself.

Perk up, pick up, re-create; progress is destruction’s intent.


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My invented form “Olla Podrida”:

1 sentence
1 haiku/senryu
1 sentence
5 metered unrhymed lines (any meter throughout)
1 sentence
1 haiku/senryu
1 sentence
5 metered (same meter) unrhymed lines
1 sentence