Poem by me (august 2010); wrote this when I was in a soul sucking job.

Craving a normal day 
not sure what will come my way

Although not yet 10 o’clock 
I already have a mental block

2 cups of coffee and 1 cup of tea 
don’t seem to cure my misery

I fight, fight my desire 
only to conclude I am a liar

Tell yourself that these actions aren’t real 
but father time will soon reveal

Acts of betrayal, treachery and heresay 
reminds me of a famous Shakespeare play

Get through this – mourn, learn, move on 
knowing that my day has only begun


Too Many to Count (July 2014)

How many violations

There are too many to count

All running in my head

So fast, each memory comes

the other finishing to

find another beginning


It hurts, it tires me out

It drains, stains, pains

how could I have

let it go on for so long

Too many years,

too many to count


All the soul taking

All the abuse, no more

No one can take that much

but still I endure

So many endure, survive

live so – even if not whole


How much is lost, nothing

remains until a moment

someone gives, says

Your soul is not for sale

You have no price

You are worth it

That is what counts.


Hate (July 2014)

I hate to hate, it taxes me

vexes me, to hate

She disgusts me, even

when she’s not near me

Her eyes gaze away

to say I’m in the way

She waddles in to own,

to take what isn’t hers


She’s a taker, a taker

of souls, that is.

She gives nothing,

I hate her, her name

passes my lips

through clenched teeth

Oh, the dentist’s dream


Her photo reminds me

She is a taker, even

her smile is stolen

Her words, her actions

not her own, she takes

never gives

You know she isn’t real

you’ve seen her before

She’s only a mere copy



I get a memory only

to find no relief in discovery

Something I covered up

It was better to live like

that, not knowing, not

remembering, maybe?


I find no peace in re-living

the memory, in knowing what

torments, who torments


Before, she was a ghost,

my imagination, someone

I made up.  Oh the grand

tales of nurture.


It was almost real

except I knew

within two seconds

the aftermath

I plunged into reality.


She torments me.

A woman I called Mom

Mom, how I loved you

It was real, wasn’t it?

My love wasn’t enough

but it was real.





4 thoughts on “Poems

  1. first, thank you for reading “Lord Nyo’s Continuing Lament”. And,…your own poem went straight to my heart. I have been there…in jobs, before. In fact I wanted to bring an Uzi to the office, and shoot it up!

    I got out, way before retirement age, and decided that I would


  2. ‘be’ a poet! LOL! But it worked, and with the support of my husband, I am deep into this mire.
    We all need the company of others recovering from the trauma of narcissism. These blogs do a great service for that recovery.
    Lady Nyo


    • Hi Lady Nyo,
      I am enjoying your blog; That is wonderful you followed something you love. Blogs have changed how people get information and develop themselves and a craft. It is wonderful to have this support.
      xxoo TR


      • Hi TR! I’m now aware that this support is rare from husbands, spouses. LOL! But! The internet can be a dangerous place, and a good, creative place, it’s all in how we handle it. It’s either a box of chocolates or a box of snakes! And thank you, always, for reading my blog. Yes, I agree, blogs have changed, and for the better I think.

        Lady Nyo



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