Anita Magdalena

Anita Magdalena

Sunday, 24 April 2016

Black Orchid Cede

Sunday, 8 November 2015

Shades of Violent

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

The Death Of Something

Saturday, 27 July 2013

Muddy Words



I saw no beast

hiding in your eyes
in the beginning 

I guess when it growled 
in the pits of your soul 
you silenced it with 
unending charm and charisma 
I watched your smile 
slide up the arm of many females 
your veil slowly slipping 
in front of my awareness 
  
  
I guess your forgetfulness 
of my existence at times 
was my moment to reflect 
in the pool 
of the man behind the mask 
and I wanted your bones 
to splinter every time 
they kissed me 
with the anger you threw 
when you stopped trying 
to hide your ugly 
you were deserving of all 
the hate that swam in my veins 
  
  
my dirt streaked face 
from the touch 
of your muddy words 
was too much to surrender 
and my gut thundered silently 
you stole my sun 
and breathed your poison 
on the flowers that blew 
through my soul 
in uplifting fragrances 
like dark corridors left 
on the inside of my very essence 
  
  
long gone 
I am claiming back all of me 
but whenever I see 
a glimmer of a sliding smile 
I look for muddy words 
  
some times ghosts like to haunt...... 





Storm In My Fist











I was the strong type 

crumbling on the inside 

when no one 
was looking in 
and the sparkle fell 
from emerald gems 
into the gutter 
like discarded rubbish 





the storm in my fist 

dug into my palm 

my pocket 
the silent place I plunged it 
ashes under my feet 
the remains 
of the nothing 
that used to be dreams 
scorched impossible 
like dying embers 





draped in the tapestry 

of stolen promises 

the glue on words spoken 
often come unstuck 
lacking glitter 
like the dirt under fingernails 
and I was wild once 
like an untamed child 
all ragamuffin 
and grazed knees 
with tangled hair 





I guess time cannot help 

but be a thief of things 

creeping through the night 
with its swag bag 
and my disappearing life 
I bet that is where souls go 
all bunched up 
trying to escape its grasp 
some slipping 
through the gaps 
coming back just to start 
all over again. 








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Sunday, 9 September 2012

When The Line Is Crossed


Poem by Anita Magdalena....

When The Line Is Crossed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My hopes were dashed against stone cold reality
and I wrote them down in invisible ink so no one 
could read me or ever know what goes on inside


I turned my back on all of the faces that watched me
when I found the door I closed it and left them behind
they never truly cared or maybe it was me that didn't


I stopped and became silence until ears became deaf
it was so much easier when people started to forget
while I forever remember those stinging memories


Whatever happened to the softness I longed to feel
maybe it's still being made in my world of make believe
where imagination is the only company I want to keep


I never said I wanted the world or ever thought it owed me
I just wanted to be me without someone trying to change the
channel that I chose from my own conscience to broadcast


I guess I came with a "you can own me" stamped on my ass
just the impression I get from the manipulation I freely accepted
people like to cross the line like it's a game of I don't give a fuck


I moved that line until they could not see it as I pulled it tight
I watched them fall flat on their face choking on their ignorance

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Haunted Heart



Poem by Anita Magdalena...


Haunted Heart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her haunted heart strikes its sharpness into her mind
just to remind her sometimes how much it has hurt


She can never run away to forget the past 
pins and needles pushed through and out
without thread to stitch her back together
Non stop bleeding that left her so lifeless


Her spirit just left and took her soul with it
an empty shell that could still think and feel
she became stoic and unreadable to others
as time tumbled through her tapping fingers


Her haunted heart beats to the rhythm of her endless thoughts
just to remind her sometimes that she is still very much alive


She took off deep into the night and ran
found herself on peaceful sacred ground 
she sat  with the dead and her thoughts
her spirit/soul came and sat with her


She remembered every single stinging word
as each one slapped the temple of her mind
she could not sit with her own indifference
so she packed her bags and walked away


Her haunted heart strikes its sharpness into her mind
just to remind her often that she is still very much alive



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Wednesday, 18 July 2012

Blunt Hands Sharp Words


Poem written by Anita Magdalena....

Blunt Hands Sharp Words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


  

From grace she fell into her long dark days 

his hands were blunt and words ever sharp 

tears were the healing lotion on her wounds 
kept in a secret box from the close prying eyes 
  
  
  
  
  
Explanations to why she took a wrong breath 
played out in her head before spoken into cold 
falling on a disbelieving sound closed off always 
tension rose with unbending dominance `closer` 
  
  
  
  
  
In face forward of a hard place to be she stood 
against all odds her walls held firm against him 
a blotch of nothingness that tried to break spirits 
tore at her very being as his red mist fell on her 
  
  
  
  
  
She escaped the pace of her long dark journey 
but the haunting lingered in the shadows of night 
tormenting in double time from two entities of life 
her sanity stayed with her as she drew her sword 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
With her visual blade and sharp words she cut out his black heart. 
  
  
  
  
  
One for two............. 
  

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