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Damn nation
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by Underground Panther in the Sky, Unknown News
June 22, 2004
When a caged Panther cries, crimson spots appear upon the floor.
They show a stigmata, invisible contamination inside a realization of a soul abused.
I did not deserve this wounding.
Suddenly heaven is burning down, like a wildfire...
Because the LORD is upset, he bellows threats and points his weapons at me.
The fire within me touches him, and he falls silent in screaming understanding.
recoiling with the horror at his own image.
The mirror will not stop reflecting what he is, accusing him of what he has done.
I contact, connect, eyes charging into him, flashing.
So now he has no place to hide.
Bully gods lose control when I can speak their secrets.
I am responsible for all these shapes my thoughts create through my willful actions.
I must be...
I must not fear being judged inhuman, by the destroyers,
those ashamed, arrogant ones who fear true power generated from within because it will expose their sickness of heart to their own eyes...
There is no more room for LORDS in my house.
I am Underground Panther in the Sky,
I will not make a hypocrite of myself in front of the world to save a face I should have thrown away myself so long ago.
No more strangling into silence,
words that must come out,
because of who they might offend.
My tears of fire will speak for me, even when I am afraid to say...
I will not be subjugated anymore.
The parent imposes his will upon the child...
Parents who can't see themselves spread poison.
Sick parents spread themselves into the future,
like parasites upon their children's hearts.
Father, how can you hear your own conscience,
when the choir is singing your praises so loudly?
Oh, put on those rose colored glasses and blind yourself so you might avoid falling upon the shards of the broken hearts of your children.
The pain is there testifying what you do in spite of your denials.
When my scars bleed their secrets to you,
Please Don't turn away from me trembling,
going into fantasies of perfection just to save yourself from witnessing to your own pain in my eyes.
DOMINATION slaps the little faces blue to save the face of the father,
DOMINATION humiliates tenderhearted ones so they grow thick skins, and feel nothing in the name of the Son, of the Lord
DOMINATION scars the bodies of unloved ones, into distortions of self-loathing, Love becomes denial in the name of the Lord
DOMINATION burns away the hope for the future from us In the name of some heaven that cannot be if it is imposed by force.
DOMINATION are the rationalizations of the sins of the fathers abuses rushing out like a sickness from the sputtering mouths of arrogant self-deluded saints,
who claim they can do no evil as they DO evil unto you.
Survival was had by not remembering how my soul got shattered apart.
What my memory has forgotten is still written in my flesh.
Red screaming rivulets get remembered in white scars.
Messages of emotions overwhelmed pain within our mind
I'm healing from saving myself...
from someone else's torment...
I never wanted to have.
I remember when the moon turned red and stars fell from the sky, spinning dark...
and how this bowl of poison was forced in, on the tip of a blade,
swallowed to the sound of shrill trumpets.
The dust motes frozen in the sunbeam shining in the dungeon window saw this.
I remember the betrayals of trust were like swords in the hands of beasts, run through me again and again,
when the door was shut.
Closed to conceal the unearthly sounds that a little soul shattering apart makes Hiding truth from anyone who might have courage enough to interfere with private armegeddons?
In the name of HUMANITY and the UNIVERSE and ALL living things
I Damn you Lord to oblivion!
I damn knowing what you have done to me save your own face.
Twisted hell in the guise of heaven comes in all shapes, to violate innocent trust.
Survival was once forgetting what was felt, to forget who we were,
to forget what we can do with our own will.
Living under domination requires forgetting when we walked so small in the house of the Lord.
Why do I honor this father?
Why do I still speak well of tyrants while they hurt me?
Why do I want to go on pretending,
that they knew not what they did.
When we all DO know what the father did.
Is it such a sin to be making a hypocrite of the Lord in front of the world,
in front of their friends and foes, role models and fans...
by simply using my voice and being true to myself?
Why do Lords fear my remembering, my becoming?
Is it because for us to remember is to understand exactly why they closed the door to muffle the noise of our soul escaping the body as it was broken...
I want to feel my own heartbeat.
I want to remember my truth.
I want to dance in my own spiral... And Know...
Acceptance, compassion, courage and love.
Remembrance is destroying lords and masters,
I go breaching the old walls of denial that are his fortress.
Boldly I take back my crown...
To still the verbal abuse on auto play ripping holes in my heart...
I seek all the festering cysts of denial to explode,
release their toxins and truths into words so the healing can start...
And finally that stigmata that the Lord burned into my soul can finally heal and bleed no more.
When human beings are not allowed to be who they are in themselves it is a SIN against them.
Heaven itself has committed crimes against my spirit.
I desired to lie down with death because I feared torture.
Evil put his foot upon my childhood heart to crush it.
And it did not prevail!
I do cast down the Lord in this house the Lord hath made,
to hell it hath made for me that can no longer hold me.
I know the angels who would be Lords will still scream
Oh, it's not their responsibility.
They will blithely turn their heads,
away like Pilate and this time I don't care.
I am becoming.
A purring, electric lighting fantastic cat,
pausing as rainbows come to dance with my wings, on my way to the stars.
My horns shine like swords on my tongue perceptions are sharpened by trials I faced and won when I was living underground...
I finally understand why those cruel shackles that scraped me raw really do fit best on the ankles of their creators, than they ever did on me.
So they can have them back. I have no more want of torture devices.
I hold open my heart fearlessly, my power is my voice,
Narcissus is burned when hurting hearts tell secret stories.
My truth flows from my scarred glittery lips,
no more lies...
... And I am singing...
Fly with me, my heart's wings are strong.
(for the tortured ones)
© 2004, by the author. What do you think?
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