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If you are a survivor, please be careful in reading the information compiled here. It is impossible to give information on ritual abuse, and about people's opinions about ritual abuse, in a way that is not upsetting and/or triggering. Only you know how much is wise to read, and how much information you can absorb at one time.

Poems by GhostWolf

There are monsters out there...

(© February 15th, 2000)

Oh no, they say; things like that cannot happen,
   do not happen... it just can't be...

...and the neighbors exclaim in shock and dismay
   "but he was such a nice personable young man, always
      helpful, friendly, and kind; he'd never do anything
        like that"

   ...as the Bundy's and Dahmers and so many others
      are taken away...

The shock, horror, and accusations fly as people desperately
search for answers, any answers that point anywhere -
   - anywhere but within - 

   ...as Columbine goes down, and people wonder about
      Jonbenet Ramsey, and how those children in the
         next county, the next state, could be killed
            so horribly by their parents, their
               teachers, their care-takers...

So easy to see the obvious monsters in retrospect;
   20/20 hindsight enables the oh-so-wise recognition of
   the warning signs and subsequent post-mortem
      pontifications promulgated by the experts and
         not-so-expert...

Society sagely nodds its collective head in 
   agreement and mutual pronouncement 
     We Gotta Do Something About It... 
   ...while IT is still hot
         headlines and major news...

   ..and drops IT like a hot potato once IT becomes old
      news and fades into forgetfulness because IT 
         happened over there, not in our back yard,
         and IT no longer makes headlines and money...

But there are other monsters, more subtle, more dangerous,
   far more deadly...

The socially proper mother and father with the oh-so-nice
   home and such well-behaved children -
   Who always are there to welcome new neighbors, and
      help the needy in their communities and churches...

The good neighbor, the nice lady at the checkout...
   that friendly foot-cop, the librarian and doctor,
      and the ever-so-understanding teacher at school...

The people who blend in, who never make waves, who are
   noticed, if at all, for their charm, friendship,
      and warmth...

The people who fit in...

...and the children see what is supposed to be... 

but...

...the monsters inevitably emerge when 
   they think they cannot be seen... 

...and the children see what really is...

Sarcasm, innuendo, and allegations fly as the child quietly
   listens - unseen, unheard, unnoticed - 

   "Oh, he can't help it, after all, he's one of those 
    people..."

   "After what she told me, I would never ever trust my 
    children with her..."

   "I'd never say this publicly, but he's nothing but a
    no-good cheat, bastard, and bum..."

        "I'm going to ignore it, but when..."

   "She's that way because she's..."

   "he's not what he seems, he's really a ..."

   "She said that?!?  I would never..."

   "Did you know that he has considered...?"

Ah... the fine art of innuendo, of allegation, of destroying 
   trust... of always giving the "but...", a way out, 
                an escape route and exception...

   ...ways to look oh-so-noble and good...
      ...ways to continue the tearing down of another
         and justify; to destroy another's reputation -
            and rationalize it while placing the
            blame on the target of the innuendo...
            ...and feel oh-so-self-righteous...

...the child listens... and learns... 

The monsters appear... the amenable let's-work-it-out
      adult disappears...

   tensions and stress are addressed with screaming,
      accusations, name-calling, degredations,
      blaming, finger-pointing...

      "if you weren't so stupid..." 

      "you're nothing but a lazy bum..."

      "good for nothing son-of-a-bitch..."

      "Can't you do anything right?!?..."

      "This would not have happened if you..."

      "If you weren't so careless with money..."

      "If you just kept your stupid mouth shut..."

      "If you weren't so dense, you would have
       known that is one of my buttons, it's
       your fault this happened!"

         ...and the child watches - and learns - 
            as verbal violence escalates into 
               physical violence...

         ...as all-to-often the child becomes the 
            target, and learns only that violence,
            verbal, physical, mental violence -

          - is the acceptable way of handling stress,
               of dealing with problems...

    oh no, never accept responsibility for mistakes,
       for ideas poorly expressed... it's better to
          attack the one who reveals that; it's 
             better to degrade them, humiliate
                them, invalidate them...

   ...that way, attention is redirected, and all the
        blame and fault can be placed on another,
           and one will not have to face the music...

The monsters emerge, subtly manipulating others
   to fulfill their self-centered needs and justify
      their brutality...

      "If you really loved me, you would..."

      "If you were really a good husband/wife, you'd..."

      "I work so hard day and night just so you can
       have a roof over your head, and I deserve
       some gratitude, so..."

      "If you weren't such a jerk, I wouldn't have
          to keep punishing you..."

      "If you'd just... then you wouldn't get
          beaten for..."    

      "If you weren't such a rotten kid..."

      "I'm doing this because I love you..."

      "This hurts me more than it hurts you..."

      "I'm the one bringing home the bacon, so..."

      "You wouldn't get the crap beaten out of you
       if only..."

   ...and the child learns the fine art of manipulation,
      redirection, misdirection, shaming, and blaming..
         
   ...of inflicting and justifying violence for the
        least infractions...


The child learns by example... oh, how the child learns...


There are monsters out there...

     
    ...there are monsters in here, too...



Dark Sun Rising

(February 8th, 2001) Twilight ... Blood-red sun sets as the child watches, watches the clouds bleed, reflecting his own wounds; each crimsoned cloud mirroring the slowly clotting streams of flesh and spirit, of mind and soul... The shadows darken as the blood, an eerie dance of slowly writhing, thickening, copper-scented streams echoing the clotting sky without - and the spiraling death within - and the night becomes absolute... absolute as the black despair of the boy-child sitting silently at the window, staring into the Abyss of eternity and death, of taunting spectres, desolation, and cold bitter winds echoing the supplications of dying, forgotten dreams... Apparitions swirl out of the depths, tormented nightmares bearing searing pain... angry maddened eyes driving iron-hard fists into a child's flesh, rending, tearing body and soul as blood and spirit stream silently, unheeded, wasted... Lust-hardened hands groping, invading, violating a child's body and mind, uncaring, cold, merciless satiation as the child's soul shrivels and despairs beneath the onslaught... Knives flashing cold and brilliant, artfully applied, cunningly, efficiently wielded to extract maximum pain with little damage to the child's flesh - yet direful agony to the soul... Ropes binding, suffocating... the child's head held still, eyes forced open to see, to watch the sister, the brother, pay the price for the child's failure to obey... watching the fists pound, hands violate, knives pierce - and watching pain-filled haunted hollow eyes looking back, crying why, why... Dawn comes... The boy-child's haunted, lifeless eyes look out the window into the morning mists... seeing not the birth of another day, but only the dawn of another cycle of despair, pain, suffering, and death... seeing only that final Abyss patiently, quietly waiting, waiting inexorably for the child's last tattered remnants of hope to flutter away, ashlike, in the winds of ultimate despair... The sun rises... and the child surrenders to the Abyss, consumed by the Dark Sun rising...

 

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