Fiend

Becalmed,
upon the river of my life
snakes and demons to either side.
Flames roar and sputter
dancing upon the water
as shadows reach down from the sky.
Gossamer strands of debauchery
pulling at my soul;
my heart yearning
to let go…..
yet stubbornly I hang on.
Angels weep,
their tears a salve to my scars.
Demons screech
claws extended, slashing
emboldened by my fear,
my anger,
my hatred.
Within me black ink flows,
not blood
but an evil so deep
that the demons call me
by name.
I have tried to turn away,
to escape my heritage
but never can truth be denied.
Where evil blooms
I shall appear,
a devil in a woman’s disguise.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Dec. 7/17
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Harlequin’s Mask

Can you see me?
The real me?
The one who stands behind the woman I show?
With harlequin mask
gilded tears in the corners
a reality
a truth
I cannot bury.
I mouth the words you need to hear
the platitudes
the I am okay’s
so you can have respite.
Respite from my pain
respite from my need
respite from my everything.
I am sorry to bother
allow me to retreat
and the facade shall return.
Ignore the silver tears that are real
escaping from beneath
the harlequin’s mask.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
December 4/17

Queen of Deflection

Hello how are you?
Terrific and you?
Your mom and dad?
How about that sister of yours?
By the time you walk away
having regaled me with tales
of normality and bliss,
you will have forgotten the pain
reflected on my face.
I am the Queen of deflection.
 I cannot allow you too deep
for within the shadows my beasts strain
wanting to partake.
Though leashed and muzzled
still they try,
wanting to break free and control
the singular puppet I am,
for their macabre tastes.
I weep and I cry
but there is no escape
for I am entrapped within a cell
of my own making.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Dec. 3/17

Flawless

I like to believe that I have no flaws
that I can get through my day without tripping
without stealing away
to drug my thoughts, my pain.
I suck them back with greed
they calm the beast within
and I cannot tell
I cannot send him running
I do not have the strength.
7,10 at a time
anything to obliviate
this heart of mine.
I feel too much
I love too hard
I try to make it all right
for everyone
but myself.
This pain that I fight
I have no idea where it comes from
I only know that this is not the right way
as I flush the pills
once again.
I need help,
I need assistance,
I am not as strong as I make myself out to be.
I hold my hand out
a silent plea.
Do not judge my sins,
hold me and aide me,
for it killed me to admit this.
Jay-lyn Doerksen
Dec. 3/17

A Child, A Mother, An Addict

Displaced, 

tears crystallizing on my face

I claw and I scratch

my heart burns with regret.

I am helpless in your embrace.

A lover’s cold arms.

Holding,

cradling my soul in disgrace

talons finding chinks in the armor

that I wear to protect my heart.

You eat away,

eroding the foundation,

the very truth of myself.

Calling forth the beast within

making me confront myself.

Mirror image

a horror to be seen.

A sneer,

a snarl,

lips curled in defense

I raise my hand and shatter the glass.

Mirror mirror

an image I can’t compete

a child, a mother, an addict

a soul withering in her embrace.

© Jay-lyn Doerksen

1/27/16

***Another poem from 2016 that I love

I do not know….

These words become a jumble on my tongue
twisted and sharp
coming out all wrong.
Stabbing and scoring
damaging your heart without meaning to.
Unable to stop
as the pain and past mingle together
and I make the same mistakes over and over.
I do not know how to be sweet.
I do not know how to be kind.
I do not know how to love.
My past is a charred ruin
of relationships burned
and love never given a chance.
Tears blur my sight
as I watch you leave
knowing that yet again
I have done this to myself.
I am sorry my love.
I am sorry my dear.
All I know how to do
is rend and destroy,
any who come to close
to the fire burning within.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
November 30/17

The Banshee’s Lament

A soft steady chant

a whispering whine

begins a slow waltz

erupting as the screams begin;

The Banshee’s lament.

Plucking at coiled hair

tears tracking down soiled cheeks

I can hear the soundless tune

that she has wept

for centuries

announcing our very own deaths.

Time and time eternal

we have tried to outrun

this family’s inheritance

of a crone sitting in the willow chair

keening and wailing

calling out souls to rest.

The Banshee’s Lament

a tale from the old country

brought forth in the new.

The song so seductive

blood falls apace

as I lay at her feet

my death to commence.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

 November 26/17