Friday, March 20, 2009

Timeless Child




















This is my first attempt to cover a social menace. A final no to the issue of child molestation. I personally feel the sickness inside a pedophile is untreatable. The stats are available with most of the NGOs and other law enforcement agencies globally that children who goes through such horror are often over taken by prolonged post-traumatic stress and other psychological disorders while many of them end up in juvenile homes and prisons when they grow up. Please read the poem only if you wish to feel the pain of a child who gets physically abused instead of witnessing endless love from all the corners of the world.




******* : Stop Evan , stop ! please don't you fucking do it , I'm sorry for what I did back then ..no please dont kill me ..I don't wanna die
Evan (pointing his gun) : Neither I wanted to die back then !


Painting on a white paper piece
These shivering hands holds the brush
Need the right color from my valise
You do it slowly theres no rush
Sitting like a cornered stone
Lost in lullaby of my dreams
Just learned how to spell 'ozone'
Few reminiscence of self-esteem

Then you happened on a dark new day
Holding my fingers with a father's touch
Helping me with my sketches
Behind your eyes lived that ugly lust
You whispered every word of faith
Wish I could understand your plot
Fading innocence in every breathe
I was your sweetest jackpot

Mother Mary dont you hear
I always did my homework in time
Jesus dont you see my tears
That crash upon the filthy chimes
Every moment turned to hour
Trauma inflicted through that pain
Did my best to resist your power
That white paper and those red stains

I was left crawling in the doorway
As you zipped and left away with pride
You knew it was my eighth birthday
The day when my childhood died
sometimes I lived in Prozac,
sometimes I needed morphine
Yesterday I came out of rehab
Tomorrow I'm turning nineteen

Mother Mary dont you see now
I have got a hand full of guns
Every bullet has your name
Every moment has your burns
I'm trigger happy as I can be
Found you drunk at August's bar
Between your eyes I placed the three
Jesus you pushed me this far

Painting on a white paper piece
These trembling hands holds the brush
Your death was my final bliss
I painted slowly , there was no rush !


11 comments:

nan said...

Bravo!
I feel a lump in my throat every time I happen to read/ hear of child molestation. The way you have dealt with it is soooo you Rag.
And your choice of titles. Needless to say that the titles speak on their own.
Am glad for the nth time for having found your blog amidst the usual slapstick and mush types :)
And please don't die Rag....... :P
I need to read more of it.

Ragpicker said...

Thanks for your honest feedback ! I wanted to write a poem about this issue for a long long time now. Child molestation sucks more than anything else ..

Thats the first time I have heard some one complimenting the titles of my poem \honored/ :)
And yes nandhini , I wont die that quick .. gotta few new drugs to discover before I die :)

Charzz said...

Kudos..
Child molestation is a problem which is prominently persistent in our society.. But i feel its not dealt wid properly.. Needless to say it kills the innocence of an innocent mind and tenderness of a delicate soul..

Comin to you poem..
Its hard hitting and very touchy..the choice of words and the poetic way of expressing the underlying story of a child is extraordinary..
Keep it up..
Gr8 to hve read you..

nan said...

I googled out the nymphetamine lyrics :)
That one z beyond comparison Rag and am just an amateur :)
And the comments :) Coming from a person of such caliber it really means a lottt :) Thanq

Satans Darling™ said...

Holy Mother of God... Well, is it some co incidence that a Michael Jackson song started playing on the FM as I was reading this poem? It makes me feel all the more outraged. And I was also reading about Fritzl on the internet today. He molested his daughter for 9 years continuously and trapped her into a dungeon where he used to just go in, fuck her, and come out. She had no bath for nine freaking years. Whats more, she has given birth to 7 children too...

I am extremely touched by this poem.

And it takes only Rag to churn out masterpieces one after the other :) Amazing... amazing...

Ragpicker said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ragpicker said...

@ charzz : Thanks for visiting my place and giving such a heartfelt feedback. You right when you say its not dealt properly. I mean sometimes people are just to embarrassed to even talk about it.

@ nandhini : Well I personally I feel the caliber implanted inside your poems are of immense virtuosity blended with right thought process rather than the usual classics which caught my attention first. This is the very reason why I referred you nymphatemine lyrics at the first place. :) You aint an amateur from what my doped mind can figure out from your poems my dear !!!!!!!!! I love your work too.

@ ashrita : You are right on the heart of the the poem (outrage) . Every forms of sickness has a way out but somehow not this. Even necrophilia can be dealt with but not this. never!!!!

If you are touched by the poem , I think I have given a sort of solace to every child who has been through this horror (may be atleast at a very micromost level) but still.

Thanks a ton to all of you :)

Raghav said...

WELL WRITTEN, jamies got a gun...as the classic goes..

Lunatic.... said...

I got goose bumps...*tears*

Ragpicker said...

@ raghav -- thanks for dropping in for the first time ... jamies got a gun was the aerosmith song i guess ... theres another one by tool called prison sex which deals with this issue... that song fucks the mind completely ...

@lunatic -- dont you cry !!

Ragpicker said...

i meant do not cry