This poem was written by me around 6 yrs ago.
it was printed in a book In Cabin Six Edt. by Jill Kuhn.

NO WORDS

There are no word to
describe my pain
explain how I feel.
Tell you I'm hurting

There are feelings
left in my body
they all left
The day you hurt me.

There are no tears
to be shead
because there are
No words inside me.

No words only numbness
feelings severed from my body
ripped from my soul
By your bare hands.

By M. Joseph

I posted this under Books for survivors, I would like to see more people talking about book they have found. Noone responded to my post, it makes me wonder how often someone visits there. I am very proud of my poems, and feel that the book written by male survivors is important. I do not know of another such book ever printed. Some of the poems are very strong, but there is a lot of healing in them. I encourage others to share resources tht have helped them.

Hope you liked my poem, I plan on sharing it at the conference in Oct.

Here is a newer poem which also has been put into print, and which I Plan on put into in a book of my own poetry, I wrote it early one morning within the last year when I woke up around 5 am. I wake up at either 3 or 5 a lot, I do not know why. Anyhow here it is.

WOUNDED

Wounded Child
Crying in Corner
Lost between Years

Crying out Silently
No One Comes
No ONE Hears

A Prison of Silence
Surrounds Me,
Into an Early Grave.

How do i start
to Breath Again?
Am I Someone's Slave?

A Wounded Child
grows, As Does
A Wounded Man

The Wound Becomes My Sword.
Like Tempered Steel,
I am strong again, Oh my Lord.

A Wounded Man Sat Crying
Lost Within his Years.

Silence at last was Broken
Stattered Woundes Turned
Into a River of Tears.

A Sword of Anger Broke Me Out,
As I Yelled Screamed and Roared.

The Prison wasn't
Mine at Last
It Was Yours.

By M. Joseph

I feel the growth I have made in this poem. Each day is still hard. I am grateful for anything that come out of me that helps. When I write it usually take 4 to 5 mins. and the poems are pretty much unchanged. My unconsious is comming out. Usually i do not know my dreams, I feel I am protecting myself. The poems have been a gift to myself, I hope that they help some of you.

Thanks billy,

hope you get sleep, I know I could use it.

I AM

I AM not the abuse
I AM A CHILD OF GOD
I AM A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINNING
I AM BEAUTIFUL
I AM THE DANCE
I AM THE SONG
I AM CHERISHED
I AM LOVED
SEE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!

By M. Joseph

Thanks billy,

hope you get sleep, I know I could use it.

I AM

I AM not the abuse
I AM A CHILD OF GOD
I AM A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINNING
I AM BEAUTIFUL
I AM THE DANCE
I AM THE SONG
I AM CHERISHED
I AM LOVED
SEE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!

By M. Joseph

Sometimes it is hard for me to share these, I have waited to post them for a while. You can see more of me through them. These are very personal. Once a showed some of my poetry to another survivor, she said they were tipical of other survivor's poems. They may have some truth, but I felt it took away from their sigificance to me at the time. it was soon after I wrote them. Sometimes people think they are at a better place in rcovery, but I feel that part of that is an illusion. Just when you think you understand, you get bit in the but.

So these are a few of my poems, they came out of me to help me. If they help other that is great, but I do not think they are ordinary. More poems by abused people need to come to the light. We are many not few.
We are the majority not the minority.

Enjoy my poems.

Sometimes I feel like loving.

Sometimes I feel like tearing something apart.

Sometimes I feel like nothing.

There are no words...

there are so many feelings,

i have pushed them way down,

now i am retieving them back up,

so i do not have to drag them around.


Sometimes I do not want to do anything.

Just rest. Just be by myself.

Hi everyone, just a little down

I need to get outside today and enjoy the sun

The child in me needs to feel safe.

Billy two of my poems are published in the book "In Cabin Six"

It is important to get the word out.

Look under books for survivors

Book Edt. by Jill Kuhn

THERE ARE MANY POEMS OUT THERE, BUT NOT IN BOOKS WRITTEN BY ABUSED MALES, "IN CABIN SIX" IS THE ONLY ONE I KNOW OF WRITTEN BY SURIVIORS.

HI BILLY, HOPE YOU ARE MAKING IT IN FLORIDA.

NEW POEM

LITTLE MIKEY

I USED TO PLAY WHEN I WAS A KID

THEN ONE DAY WHEN I WAS TEN

I HAD SEX WITH MY COUSIN

THEN IT WAS HARDER TO PLAY

SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH ME,

I WAS BAD

NOW I SPEND MY ADULT LIFE

REALAZING HOW GREAT I AM.

I CAN PLAY AGAIN!

THANK YOU LITTLE MIKEY!

You know after my cousin had sex with me when I was ten I felt really bad, going to hell bad. I had noone to talk to. The subject of sexual abuse about boys was not talked about. I was scared and alone. I felt like an outcast from society. I was a fagot at that point. I did not feel like I fit in anywhere. There were no words to describe how I felt. Just me walking home from school having the dry heaves because I felt sick by the whole thing. It was a shitty thing to do to someone.

Tell your story till you are done.

The silence killed little mickey.

Michael screams and yells when he has to.

I want to feel all of my feelings.

You Bastard

Fucking touch me,
I dare you.
Fucking ruin my life,
You can only fucking try.

But I won't be ruined,
Just fucked up.
Fuck you for
Fucking up my life.

I wish your body could be
ripped apart by
wild fucking dogs.
Starting by ripping off
your fucking genitals.

I want you fucking
balls on a platter.
I want you to fucking die.
Take the pain you gave me,
and suck it down your throat.
You fucking Bastard.
Fucking leave my body alone.

By M. Joseph

Hope you understand where my poem is coming from. Thank you.

Thanks for sharing I was so touched by your eloquent and deeply moving words.

hugs and thankyou

Thank you for reading myy poems, I hope most can relate, they are theraputic for me.

Glad to share them with you.

I especially like the topic of this forum.

SILENCE

what a great use of irony since here is where expressions of innermost thoughts can be made through words - yet, in silence!

In this case, silence is golden.

I feel compelled to attempt to reveal some part of myself in a poem. I beg your indulgence:

The heavy table shelters me.
Once.
The tree shelters me.
Once.
A dash accross the gravel road, a visit with safety, in a house not my home.
I always go home.
I am too young to stay out all night, but not too young to be used,
confused,
abused,
perused for clues -some hidden insight.

I am the wise one, I am the child.
The other's sadness -my plight.

In taking from me,
a
memory
a
fancy-free possiblity. . .

In taking,
there is lost all hope.
He chokes
in guilt,

w i t h e r s

away.

I stagger on.


SG

thank you for the poem, I liked it.

We are together, this place helps me every

time I come here.

Thanks SG

we are not alone,

Once I thought I was all alone

I was mistaken

I am not alone

There are many like me

crying out for sanity in this

world where children are hurt

and neglected.

I am glad I survived.

I am glad you did too.

I really believe my last post. That is why I come back. We need to stick together. This is a great place for support. Everyone who is male and hurt should be here. 1/2 the world would be here then. We all hurt.

I can not tell you how some of the things you wrote in your poems is exactly like I have felt many times..
Great job...

I started to read your poem, but I had to stop. I'm not ready to deal with the intensity of the anger I feel, but you did a great job of expressing it (as far as I managed to get). I hope I can get there too.

J

Anger comes and goes. You will get there.
Thanks for your comments. We need to stick together, and we are all OK inside.

Reading these poems at the Mike Lew weekend was amazing, I really feel like I got some of my voice back. I am so glad I went to the weekend. I thank everyone who was there.

here is one i cant remember,,,,

DARE ME NOT TO TOUCH YOU CLOSELY,
FOR THE PAIN WE BOTH SHALL BEAR,
I BURY MY HEART INSIDE A STONE,
TO AVOID THE WEIGHT OF THE WORDS "I CARE",
I SEE YOUR EYES SOFTLY SEEING MINE,
I FEEL THE TINGLE OF YOUR TOUCH,
BUT STAND YOUR DISTANCE!
DONT HUG ME NOW!
FOR I MIGHT LIKE IT MUCH TO MUCH,
AND IF I LET MY WALLS BREAK DOWN,
WHO THEN WOULD I BE?
HOW THEN COULD I DEFINE MYSELF,
AS PART OF YOU OR ALL OF ME?
//////////////////////////////

That was nice thunderboldt. Thanks for sharing that here.

Poems are a great way to grow and learn about
myself.

The Act, Betrayed

Running,
lights flash, movement
swaying in the darkness, my temple crashes
Skin is torn, blood flows, searing through, heat, burning
what a poor player, a single note
my life ends

He killed me with that single act, destroyed my life, yet seemed never satisfied.

Thank You Michael for the words from your heart and soul. It has inspired and given me strength to post one of my "just wrote it down as it came" poems. I had been ashamed to post it but I am tired of shame!!!

We.

Within me there are two,
We fight
We frolic as one rarely.
Mostly one of me hurts the other
Most times one has ruled the other,
To our distress.
We talk to each other,
But to no avail.
We are running now as we are opened up.
Exposed.

Will we ever be me?
Someday…I can only pray

Mike

Thank you for sharing these poems, guys.

LanceC

After reading what ive written, I should Warn you of this post.

Feelings to the left of me,
thoughts to my right,
a confusing, twisted mess before me
I walk without a light.

Somber fields lay behind me,
where my feet once tread
I can not stand to look at me,
I much rather be dead

I hate this life. Life = pain, fear, loneliness, fustration, disappointment.
This is a endless cycle. I don't want to go where I'm headed. I can't stand the thought of having more to deal with. More of the same. I want to be free of this agony. My job is falling apart. My life seems a hopeless mess of endless failings and shortcomings. I'll never be rid of his words, his soothsaying, his "telling u how it is". He said I was "nothing", I try to disbelieve, overcome it all. But no, he's right, though he's made this mess, I can't seem to clean it up. Why the Im I writing this at all. A final scream perhaphs? This is so damn sickning. Damn his fucked-up twisted piece of shit soul to hell. I don't even believe in Hell, but if there is.....I'm so tired of this Shit! I can't get the fucking message out of me, the message he drove into me with his Dick and his endless stream of searing words. Over and over and over. He beat me into submition with his belt, and...Oh God....his hands! What terror. He should have protected me, instead he used me like a tissue. Pick me up fuck me and make me say "Tank you Daddy". Hell, damn, shit, NO, Stop it, pain! DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, DAMN< HIM< I CANT STAND THIS FUCKING TORTURE!!!!!!!!!. ...................
There's not enough beer on this whole fucked up world to drown my rage. No word can explain the pain, the humiliation, the terror, the Feeling. I have such hate, so much hate. And that lowest scum shit got away with it. He's dead. He cheated me out of my vengence. No consequences for him. I can talk this shit for the next 100 years. There's no peace. Just endless self hating for all I should accomplish and don't, guilt for allowing myself any pleasure-for not allways fighting back-for not killing myself then, sorrow for all I've missed in this shit-box life, saddness for such a grim future. Must I (or anyone) suffer so? Death is still an option, one I comtemplate still, but I may be the coward he told me I was. I dont really see why else I continue to exist in this living damnation. One agonizing day after the next, How overjoyed he'd be, to see me now. He got an extra high when I cried. I remember him laughing while I cry and screamed. I'd love to see him to, so I could kill him.
There, one tenth of whats on my mind.

tell me more....

I just reread this post, I encourage others to share their writings, and thank those who have shared here. It has helped me remember I am not the only one.

Sickness
vomit spewing
out of my mouth
it hurts
get it out
I want it out
help me get this wickness
out of my body
Hold me for a long time
when its done.

wickness=wickedness
sorry about my spelling error

shattered
lost
broken

memories lost
visions remembered
hurting heart

surviving somehow
alone in the dark
scared to go into the light

hopefully less scared and alone

How do I Just live my life?
Feel what I am feeling?
Be me?

There is more to me than the abuse.
There is hope for tomorrow and today.
There is being who I am, me.

It is ok to feel the way I feel.
To live the way I want to.
And to say what I need to say.

Michael Joseph . . Thanks for sharing your poetry. I can see how growth come out of this. Keep on opening what you have inside and sharing. Its great.

Thankyou Ken and welcome to NOMSV again.
see you on the chat soon.

Thankyou Ken and welcome to NOMSV again.
see you on the chat soon.

One thing that I do is try to be perfict to make up for the abuse. My mother would correct me on things or point out what I did wrong. Call me chubby, not thinking it would hurt me, when it was her own weight issues that were at hand. She has a great deal of problems.

Then there is having my dad die when I was 12. Not to mention all the abuse.

How did I reach 39, it is awonder. I am glad foor what I have now. The road has been very shakey and bumppy. I know I have paid my dues, I am done being a victim.

Not only a survivor I am a thriver. I will succeed. It is in me to go forward no matter what. Fuck those bastards that abused me they will get their own in the end.

I will stand tall, just as you all should too!!!

Stand up with me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Michael Joseph

Feb must have been a downer, My last post in Jan sounds so positive. I am starting to get more positive again.

Fuck you Steve for touching me.
It was hard enough to loose my father.
Why did you have to do this?

I just want to be Ok. Any words of wisdom are welcome. Thanks. Just venting.

I am glad it is spring, I welcome it.
Hopefully it will inspire me to write more
poetry.

Jim wanted to know where this topic was so I am replying to it.

Words,
lost stuck in my
Breathe

His hands,
playing with me
as I sleep

Love,
is all I wanted
I got him

Betrayed,
the bastard
F--- him

A life,
full of confusion
F--- him again

Does it end !
Only time
will tell!

Words,
no one wants
to hear

Tell them anyway
Stop the abuse
Now !

Hi. Remembered about a year back. Putting the pieces back together and trying to figure out who the hell I actually am, not who I thought I was with shadowy fingers reaching out of my past to change my course from time to time in ways I didn't like and didn't understand.

Wrote this years ago and didn't know what it meant then. Got a pretty good idea now:

The darkness rose
and roiled and boiled
and beneath it
THERE!
lay something coiled

I reached within
and couldn't see my hand
but I felt
THERE!
lay something coiled

I reached once more
with my other hand
and felt something
THERE!
in the darkness something lay coiled

And I saw in
the darkness
something uncoil
THERE!
in the darkness
something was uncoiled

And I still don't know what it was

Thank you for your poem!

You're poems are lovely,Michael. Don't fret lack of response. Whatever gets one's ya ya's out works for me. The old way did'nt involve a lot of talking. Was'nt any choice,no options. Nowadays there's options. That's probably a lot better than the old way of self destruction,horror quieted,rage in plain sight unobserved..

Thank you Michael Joseph, thought I'd include a poem back for you...it relates to Silence...

Jim C.



[ April 28, 2002: Message edited by: Jim C. ]

As I lay
beside him

all I want is Love
all I got was his hand
on my private parts

As I lay beside him
I can feel warm and comforted
it is only an illusion

He will take all he can get
and give back very little
leaving a hole inside me

As I lay beside him
I ignore what is going on
pretending it is ok

now I am confused
and cannot change
what happened

He no longer lays beside me
I chose who touches me
It was never OK !

I wish I never knew Him.

M. Joseph 5-4-02

A Wounded Man Grows As Does A Wounded Child

It is too bad that we have to grow from the awful things we have to go through.


Our Wounds

heal with time
others help us

as we hurt and
the shame binds

we learn to let go
and let new memories in

we are starting to heal
together over time !

M. Joaeph

Just want you to know I have read much of your poetry and have loved many of them. Thank you.
I also have the book "In Cabin Six" I love that too.

Geo

Here is something I wrote a while ago. Hope it means something to you.

Ken

The Price I Pay

I love you with my hatred
drown in my blood
rivers uncharted

you called me son

of a bitch

of a bitch

in my innocence
I swam to you
this river of blood

snipping my fingers
from your side
you smiled
that fell smile

amid laughter
I sank
into this river

this river of blood
this cold cold
river of blood

choices you left me to make
on my own

I swam for my life
my heart a dragging weight
my mind the curse

twisted as you taught me

gasping
spitting up the stench
of your lies

I learned to chart this river
this living river
living river of my blood

copyright KA 1998

Words Please Listen

fuck you for touching me
you god dam bastard

you can rot in hell
for all I care

they say to forgive
I wonder how it will happen

so many people to
forgive How?

Sadness overwhelms me
and I hide it very well

Got to be a man
never let them know

men don't show weakness
they protect themselves

guess what? What I really
need is Love.

Just love, not sex
I had that I 'm done

I'm done.

not sure

confused
what do I need?
what do I want?

all messed up
confused
want to be physical
but only so much

is it wrong to want
to be close to a man?

I just want to be safe too!
and not get into trouble.

MJ,

Just wanted you to know I've been reading your poems. They are very moving. I also enjoyed your poems at the Lew retreat. Keep them coming. You have a gift.

Jack

Thanks JackJohn glad you are getting something from reading them. I find it easier to write poems than other writing.

Thanks to all for the poetry. MJ, I ordered Cabin Six from the NOMSV bookstore--am waiting to get it.
Bob

I was able to read a poem at the retreat, the retreat was great!

I am in a great deal of pain at the moment, I know I can make it through.

Thanks Nomsv for the retreat and Thanks everyone who helped make it happen. Especially the therapists.

Retreat in NY Dawn Manor made me deal with my acting out. It was very difficult.

Hear my poem

HANDS LEAVE ME ALONE

Hands

eveywhere leave me alone

get off me

no I don't want to do this

let me go

I don't want to

hands everywhere

hands

leave me alone

hands leave me alone

don't touch me

stop it

No

HANDS LEAVE ME ALONE

LEAVE ME ALONE

LEAVE ME

GO

HANDS LEAVE ME ALONE

M. Joseph

Hands that Bind

Who would have thought his hands
would change my life.

The mere fact that he touched me
where others never did.

In my mind he became something special,
the attention was greatly needed.

It was the wrong kind of attention,
and that still haughnts me today.

I have to unbind this person from my body.
He has no place in my physical world.

It is difficult to know who to trust.
Every man is suspect now, the hurt is
just too great.

What good can I make of the abuse?
All I wanted was someone's love.

I lost my father, that was hurt enough.
Then Steve (perp) threw salt in that wound.

The pain, sadness, anger, and rage are all there,
buried with the help of his hands.

God be with me as I grow and learn how wondereful
I really am. This was robbed from me by his hands.

Who would have thought his hands
would have changed my life.

Now I get to share my pain and sorrow with yours,
and find peace, love, and joy at the same time.

M. Joseph

MJ
I read "Silence" from the beginning. I think you have broken yours well. I also think you are breaking the grip of those hands. It's been a long & tough road to get where you are.
Hang in there.
lol
Devon

Devon thank you very much!

Poetry is a very big outlet for me.
I need to use it more.

Thanks for all your advise and just being a friend. It does help.

It was time to compose another one.

Life Now

It is quiet now
noone is wanting from me
life is what I make it

There are more feelings now
noone is there to take from me
life is many things

There is laughter now
the freedom to let it out
life is more colorful

There is more now
life's experience has shaped me
Life is what I make of Life

Michael
that's a feelgood poem, love it.

Lloydy

Thanks Matt,

I liked the last one too, not sure if I am finished with it. I think I could add a little to it, or it might stand on its own as it is.

Thanks for the feedback.

This is my life
and it will become what
I want it to become

Life as it is now
Dreams fulfilled
freinds all around

Life now

MJ

Could you pull the "Life Now" poem together and post it as a new thread? I need to see the progression of recovery you've shown. Could use some hope for my own.

-jer

no words just scars
healed but not forgotten,
there are childen out there
who are silently hurting
Love all childern so they
do not get forgotten or lost

don't forget to love yourself
none of the abuse was your fault
you are worth being loved

Michael
I just love this whole post, it started way back in April 2001 and you keep checking in with more wonderful words, I hope you keep it going for a long time to come.

Take care.
Dave

michael,

very nice poems.

i never came to tis forum until we talked.

i suffer, we suffer, we have pain.

i hate it but gotta make it.

i liked blackens honesty too, he is right there with us. damn those bastards!

please have some peace with what you are going through. it sucks, been there, done that shit. no one wins.

take care my friend, guy

silenced no more