Whisp – This Is What Child Abuse Looks Like (Narrative Spoken Word Poetry)


I felt it whisp through my field of gray.
I felt it twist through coon and clay. Through lisp and foul play. I felt it trip and tumble.
Rumble upon frisk horns. Upon brisk thorns sticking amiss from my gray soul. I felt it
hike around. Leaping bound. A shhh! sound as it broke air. A shadow shifted here and
there. A swirling gray smoke. An internal choke of rain. Pounding heart pain. Heathen
faggetti peaks. Its head pointed streaks as it lurched close. A dose of flurry. Its legs
in a scurry. Creeping and creaking. Its sneaking so stark. I felt its breathing in the dark.
Fear. I heard it whisp through my field of gray.
I heard it duck through swing and sway. Through dither and delay. I heard it strike and fall.
Crawl with the wild wind. Waiting for the end sticking amiss from my gray soul. I heard
honky shuffle. Pygmy scuffle. A mmm! muffle shaking the air. An image shifted here and
there. Billowing gray gas. Its hodgie past creaming. Its ashy mouth screaming. Constantly
tapping unfolding measure. Its wetback pressure aimed to break the seal. To smash and kill
every wish. Every small dish of dream. The shark. I heard its thinking in the dark. Fear.
I saw it whisp through my field of gray. I saw it squeeze through bow and pray. Through
blow and come my way. I saw it squaw and slip. Dip as if it were in control. In the know
sticking amiss from my gray soul. I saw an endless cyclone. Forever alone. A ohh! groan
of despair. My reflection tilted here and there. A smothering gray space. A never-ending
place aflame. A forever filled fate of shame. No one to blame for my obsession. With my
own oppression. Charred to no relief. Barred memory thief. Past master. Bible basher. Retard.
Chink! Life so stark. I saw myself chained in the dark with fear.

5 thoughts on “Whisp – This Is What Child Abuse Looks Like (Narrative Spoken Word Poetry)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *