A Writers Intent

By: Rhonda Nemri

A writers intent is to provide a different perspective to others. To let the reader experience another persons experiences whether fiction or non fiction. A writers need is to fully express themselves, and most times it’s done creatively. A writer hopes for many readers and commentaries on their writings. But whether one reader or a thousand readers, the writer is at ease because they have released all internal thoughts out. It helps a writer release their thought process out on paper or typed in their computer.

When writers express themselves, they are risking a part of them. Their vulnerability, sensitivity, rage, and passions are exposed, and can be ridiculed by those not agreeing with statements of the writers beliefs, attitudes, and values. But that doesn’t stop them.

A writer may not care for the amount of readers, however a writer surely hopes to reach out and be a helping hand for those who may be internally struggling. For those who may not have the courage to speak up, but to feel connected and not alone in any issues in their lives.

A writers intent is to inspire those who need inspiring, help those that need help, and create another world for those who choose to be lost in words.

A writers intent is to help themselves understand their own voice, and realize the wretchedness of their own oppressions.

I dedicate this to all the writers who inspired me to write, and allowed me to express myself with no regrets.

Destructive Power

By : Rhonda Nemri

They cut you. They cut you so deep, you bleed. But you don’t bleed to death. Just a bunch of cuts that become scars. You don’t walk away, you forgive them. Each time you forgive them, you think to yourself it will be better. When really, you’re handing them that power.

Now this power is so destructive that every time you legitimately have the right to be hurt and upset at them, they make you feel it’s your fault. Each time this happens, another scar is added. You try to walk away, but it’s that power thing that just can’t seem to go away. Whether you are with them or without them, they seem to have this power over you. You lose sleep, you don’t eat, you overly think, you lose yourself in all of this.

Each time you come back you hand them that power again. The sad thing is they know it, and they feed off of it. They need it to survive. And they will survive because you are feeding them your precious soul. You are feeding them your life that used to be yours. But something keeps you around them. Something makes you whole again when they are good. It’s this drug feeling that numbs you, that you can’t even see what’s wrong. But you enjoy it, because with it, it keeps you alive.

They say they need you and want you, but what they need is that power that someone else may not give them the way you give them. That’s real abuse. Not the physical kind, but the emotional and psychological abuse. That abuse will stay forever with you if you keep handing your self control over to the person who thrives over having you by their side only for the sole purpose to control you. This is toxic, and you know it. But you’re afraid that if you walk away, no one will want you the way you’ve laid out your life to the last person. So you stay and forever have lost yourself.

*NOTE*
It isn’t just our intimate relationships that this applies to. Power is a necessity for some in your family, friendships, colleagues, superiors, etc. we all struggle through powerlessness in our lives. But to let someone take over our lives for their sake, we should reconsider them in our lives. Emotional and psychological abuse hurts more than physical. All abuse is harmful, but it is the words that affects us coming from the ones that say they love us.

The Fools Will Chatter

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph painted and photo edited By: Rhonda Nemri

I mustn’t show my tears. Or else the fools will chatter.

I mustn’t show my smile. Or else the fools will chatter.

I mustn’t grief out loud. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must show my tears. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must show my smile. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must grief out loud. Or else the fools will chatter.

Yes the fools will always chatter. With chatter they speak as fools, and fool you to believe they stand beside you as if you’re a fool. But indeed the fool will always be a fool, full of ignorance.

Visionaries

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph taken by Rhonda Nemri

Lying there with your eyes closed and your cold delicate skin, I see you but can’t feel your touch. Throwing myself at you with tears rushing down my face, dripping to the cold ground.

Catching the last moment of your presence as I press my warm face against yours and sing you a song that once was heard.

Revealing my story to you in the last moment before the doors shut. Staring in the eyes of the lost souls, feeling their pain, but nothing can be done.

Consoling one as I feel the wind knocking me down. Creating visionaries in ones mind as we lose the branch off the tree of life.

Whispering voices, crying eyes.
Look around, touch the ground. Fall in hurt, reach for support. Crazy scenes, loud full screams. Stop the ride, feeling to confide.

Moved away quick as they give one last look. Running back to just hold you in that split moment I’m shook.

Soil is moved for your rest. Feeling this urge to fall apart, as the dirt shall fall, and the grass will sprout.

Digging with my bare hands, as I visit your long stay. Feeling this pain that won’t go away. Dig, dig ,dig, but I don’t go far. As I stop the dreaming and walk to my car.

I look one last moment before I leave, and pass through the gates as I weep.

Your memory is in my mind throughout the day. As I place my hand to my broken heart, and hum this way.

As the sun shines I feel your smile. I hope this feeling will stay for a while. I rest my eyes through the night. As I wake things don’t feel right.

The final thoughts are of this life, without a moment of you things don’t feel right.

Painted Silhouettes

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph Taken By: Rhonda Nemri

Colors changing into the mood.
Loud as the fire bursts with creation of realism.

Layered in black cloth as it resembles the feelings of mourn.

Stripping the darkness from its root, and bringing back life.

Shameful appearances of the painted silhouettes.

Once again it shall appear to be solid, but soft as the inner core of the bodies falls to the ground in grief.

Surrounded by the cold and warm structures that create no absolute.

But to signify once again the wretchedness of this long gone chapter.

Expressions of Loss

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By: Rhonda Nemri

The sadness that is exuded. The straight face that is expressed.

Expressions of loss and discomfort. Weakness is not portrayed, but is a reaction to the unfortunate past, that must be accepted.

Cringing reality, in which is a glimpse of darkness in search of light, and comfort.

The salty waters come rushing down the soft warm apples. Lost in the depths of life. Lost in the thoughts of mind.

Just to touch the flesh of love, is a wanting that won’t be received, but shall be done in deep imaginations.

A smile is seen for a moment, but is lost quickly as the feelings of sorrow is remembered.

The skies of light and clearness as the rays beaming on my skin, deep down in my pores. A remembrance of closeness that brings one at ease.

Strength is within, but sadness as well. The exterior portrays the interior, for true happiness cannot be apparent until true acceptance.

In Loving Memory of My Father: Rest in Peace July 26 1960- June 8 2013

A Desired Freedom For The Oppressed

By Rhonda Nemri

Passing that moment in my life that tries so hard to bring the hurt to me for my wants.

Standing still looking around fighting to see the freedom I have been longing for.

You stand there over me with your hurtful words, and your abusive sentiments that you call love. This is your victory.

I am trembling in hurt, and all there is, is myself that keeps me going in this life.

The freedom that I shall see is none other than the ability to speak, the ability to be heard, and the ability to decide my destiny without any faults.

Oh how you choose my weakness for your happiness. You have toyed with me like a child, yet I am not. You have toyed with me as if I am helpless, and not full of life, yet there is life to be seen. Oh how the oppression of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive.

I struggle to be prosperous in this wretched life, but all that prosperity is, is for me to be submissive in your eyes. I shall hope to live the life I long for, but due to your loss of compassion, and your loss of love for life, you have kept me shielded. You have tormented me in your moments of despair, because despair is all you feel.

Oh how the oppression of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive. I shall see the oppression as a piece of my life to dismiss. For I shall not let the actions of your abuse destroy me.

Oh how I tremble in hurt, and all you see is anguish.

Oh how I tremble in hurt and all you do is despise me.

Oh how I tremble in sufferings and all you do is stand above me and slash at the wounds I never longed for.

Oh how the oppressions of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive. I shall see the oppression as a piece of my life to dismiss.  I shall not let the actions of your abuse destroy me.

I plea for a better tomorrow, but all I have to live for is today. For I shall always remember the unsubtly words you threw at me while I curled up in my thoughts of loss.

Strong Surface

The strength of the ground
that holds me up to keep me
standing.

For I shall use the ground to keep me walking, and
running for more.

I shall not ignore the given, but use it wisely
So I can fulfill my need of life, and its givings.

If I have no light, I have no vision to see the ground
that travels far distances and long walks.

For this makes me unknown of the givings, that makes me want,
that makes me see the creation of a hard surface to keep me strong.

Destiny

Soundless streets, loudly screams.
Above all, gives different scenes.

Insightful things, dreadful dreams.
Above all, gives different scenes.

Hopeless feelings, raging words.
Above all, gives different scenes.

Scenes of all that produce our image.
That keeps us sane, that keeps us aware.

Frightful appearances make frightful images.
The images that we cannot get over.

Images that are uncontrollable,
undesirable, unacceptable, and inadmissible.

Indifferent or fervent to the world?
The world that has become ours.

Or the world that we will destroy
with our own words and actions?

Who knows what we behold.
But we hold the destiny that is in our hands
to fulfill our needs to be accomplished.

Never Again

It struck through the veins, and let the bones stand straight.
The feeling of loneliness has become something never forgotten but something that will never remain.

The tears of a strong person has splashed down into pure memory of the one who has become weak.

The sun shined through the clouds and shifted through for the eye to see.
It has given a true meaning of tomorrow, and that it is a new day.

Wounded by the non supporters that let the heart down and never again seen. For the heart becomes strong again by wisdom from the spoken.

Never again shall the wind pass through and knock the flesh over, but to stand straight with power never seen before.

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