~The void won't lose it's victims,
won't give them up, the choices were
made and now must be lived with.
Anguished cries of thousands will
never be heard, cruelly trapped by the
labyrinth, forever obscured.~
Cathy
******************************
I trusted you ...
Now your stained-glass
pane of deceit
has shattered,
spewing shards
of promise,
killing dreams.
Jagged edges
pierce my eyes,
ears, hands;
defiling the tears
I shed.
Agony tears at my soul
as I blink away
remnants
of the person
you were supposed to be.
Plucking pieces
from torn flesh,
I scatter them
at your feet.
I trusted ...
but lost?
I don't think so;
I will tend the wounds you've left
and my inner beauty will radiate
like rainbows through sunlight.
Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Sept2005
**********************
In the stygian recesses resides dense gloom,
controlling it's urges, enshrouded in shadows.
Passions strenghthen at the perfume of death
while the clinging air reeks of sadness.
An ache so oppresive in a pitiful soul,
cast into Hades in smoke-tainted visions.
Pure hysteria is born in scarlet visions,
mantled in the icy cold of surging gloom,
stilling the essence of a sorrowful soul.
Figures emerge from the abysmal shadows,
weaving through sticky webs of sadness,
intertwined with the horrid scent of death.
Spectres, misty white, portend possible death,
aimless and eerie through lifeless visions.
Feelings of desperation and infinite sadness
cut sharply through the thickness of gloom.
Ghostly beings swoop amongst the shadows
searching for the company of a hardened soul.
Devastation embraces the shrunken soul,
drifting slowly, determined to follow death.
Drawing nearer to the fingers of shadows
that still linger in the vast tunnel of visions.
Flesh turns frigid in the moistened gloom,
while the mind freezes in frightened sadness.
Spirits devour the overwhelmed sadness
that reaches out to caress a shriveled soul.
Fear mounts at the stench of ascending gloom
and the imminent approach of spectral death.
Blood begins to flow in red-hazed visions
as veiled images seek their home in the shadows.
An offensive sense of doom reaches the shadows
as feelings foreign overtake drenched sadness.
The crimson flow is restricted from filmy visions
and a desire to fight has returned to the soul.
Prepared to do battle with impending death
mighty swords of valor slice through the gloom.
Triumph reigns over diminished gloom and sadness,
shadows have retreated from a rejuvenated soul and
death's demise has created pearl-white visions.
Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Nov2004
***********************************
Drop by shimmering drop, crystal tears accrue
in jeweled chalice, trapped within golden pain.
Oh, let thy torrent fall, ebb unto my heart
from depths of divine despair, yet fall in vain.
Droplets do originate within this heart,
dwell to age and ferment as fine wine,
yet seeming to envision promises
as dewy grapes clustered on the vine.
Welling to fill sparkling stemmed goblets,
ne'er to overflow, glistened drops shall pour.
As toast to thee, avowal to eternal love...
E're this vessel is shattered, tears flow no more.
~Cathy Bollhoefer~
copyright Jan2005
***************************
Bitterness can poison a heart towards
anything thereafter ...
*************************
First Blood
Emotional pain
is constricting;
boa contracting,
splintering spirit.
Heart functions -
forcing blood
through veins;
I breathe -
involuntary.
Devoid of desire,
no esprit;
essence annihilated
from physical being ...
An empty shell -
existence
sans emotion, hope,
or dream to promote life ...
there is no life.
'Twill lie upon a bed of roses,
thorns gouging sensitive flesh;
sleep in open grave,
inviting wormfest,
before the next holocaust.
I will draw first blood.
Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Oct2005
***************************