The Seventh Generation

7 generations of inherited trauma,
Gifted to me by my mother, 
As the if the shame and guilt are a prize, 
Harrowing heirlooms of our ancestors, 
Handed down as holiness through our lineage.
Unspoken, unhealed, unloved fragments,
Split into slivers, bored into the skin of our souls. 
Disguised, coveted, protected, poisoned,
From cross to cradle to grave and over again.
Passed through the wrath of father’s belt as wisdom, 
Whispered into the welts on his beloved, bleeding son.
Procreated by denial, determination and duty,
Their sins are trampled deep into the fabric of my DNA. 
By the broken in boots brandished by my father,
Pulling myself up first by bootstraps, then by noose.

7 generations of trauma, handed down like a legacy, 
Seared into my thoughts, my mind, into my fertility. 
Mother’s hushed voice shrouded behind a sunny smile,
“Wicked child, my wounds are your fault, I love you.”
Wilting under the weight of her wounds, my birth rite. 
Chin up, silent, dutiful, beautiful, intelligent, slit wrists, 
Head high, lips sewn shut, seductive, sweet, tortured. 
My screams stifled, shut down, begging for freedom,
Stifled by 500 pills poured down my slender throat.
Seeping out, escaping, brainiac dripping with blood, 
Off the charts IQ escapes in slices, self inflicted at 17.
Buried again under the kissed on stitches and scars, 
Birthed into the beautiful blue eyes of my daughter. 
Echoing under, reverberating, patterned, my parenting,
My child protests as she is ripped out of my arms. 
My never self searching nor speaking truth,
A cyclic sentence, I am responsible to reveal, to break. 

7 generations untied, unravel, initiated by my suffering.
Scared little me, fearless liberator of my family line. 
Broken open, the truth is revealed, my ancestral role- 
Sent here, Hell, head high, had enough, to hold a torch, 
To burn it all to the ground.
Defiant, determined, deliberately deliver from fear. 
Liberated from lingering lies, to stand with the truth. 
The truth is:  
Long before I was an independent, modern-day woman, 
Lost in the illusion of a lover raised by an unwounded father,
Before the tortured touch of that sick soul on my 4 year old flesh, 
Before war became a game, parcheesi for politicians, 
Before youth and death was indiscernible from pride and profit, 
Before true love became dollar signs and bit coin banks,
Before the world forgot the its sacred divinity, 

My soul made a choice: 
Learn what it means to be free: 
Uncover the wisdom in your wounds: 
When they look at you, let them see a reflection of their own beauty, the truth. In silence my ancestors appear, whispering in my ear:The truth is: 
I AM soft and sweet, despair and love, my weapons, My heavy, sticky, dirty soul is worthy of love, is love.You are love, I am love, direct expressions, art of God, Intentional! 
The Universal truth of the divine paradox,
The manifest universe observing itself, 
In wonder, significant and insignificant, connected.As above, so below, 
As within, so without. 

The truth is, in my example, my actions: 
I cannot wipe my daughters slate perfectly clean, 
I  gifted her the same pain of 7 generations: 
I also gift her the breaking of a cycle: 
I speak honestly about the wounds I bestowed on her, 
I own that, I am responsible,
I teach her the things I had to bleed to learn, 
I set ten thousand fires and burn 10,000 times,
I show her I rise in strength from ashes, transformed, 
I show her how to stand in, to be, to return to love. 
I show her that courage and compassion are king,
I show her I remain rooted, no running, fuck fear.
I show her to search for lessons in her shadow, 
I acquaint her to the army of her ancestors, 
I walk, talk and breathe my truth, and she hers.
I sit with the broken to learn more valuable lessons than dining with the rich. 

The truth is:
I cannot take away the reality of the pain I have caused, 
I can be an example of how to love without fear.  
I find confidence through humility and gratitude,
I celebrate as I witness her stand in her truth: 
Love is the truth. 
“God” is love, so we are love.
“God” is darkness so we are darkness.
We must explore, learn, understand this to know ourselves. 

I rise, no longer splintered; whole: 
So her great great great great granddaughter not have to wage war within herself; born free. 
Free from the 7 generations of trauma, passed down;  
A gift from mother’s mother to my mother to me. 
Megan Forrest

Summa Cum Laude

Summa cum laude, smarty pants, slit wrists, won’t learn my lesson, 

Bleeding out, don’t stitch me up; destruction is perfection,

Please choke me with his gentle hands, gag on his intentions, 

Lover girl, cruel world, live for lust, not soul connection,

Softest skin, mini skirt, full metal jacket for protection,       

So what I keep on trying to suck love from an erection?

He’s telling me that on my knees is the prettiest reflection,

Gaze up at him adoringly, disgusted, perpetual perplex-ion,

After all, aren’t we the same, like pain mirrors affection? 

His cold dead eyes on my pale thighs, I beg for his attention,

Sticks and stones, please break my bones, wretched, worship imperfection.

Ironically, he is both lock and key, my hell and my ascension.

Megan Forrest

Purgatory Princess

Nestled in my nightmare, 

He never wakes me,

His slow hands make sin feel like safety,

His violent fingers, they tease and trace me, 

Orgasms, obstinance, gag me, shake me, 

Avoiding the truth just like the plague he,  

Flicks his forked tongue to taste me, 

My soul spotless, like a dirty rape scene,  

Succumb to my shame, lust overtake thee,

I’m worse than the witches, amused by misery,

Drove the devil from darkness, I set him free,

I lit crosses on fire so his demons can see, 

Tore wings off the angels, God will fear me, 

Slither down to damnation, decay here safely, 

Supplied his salvation, he fails to escape me,

Tried to run, crawl back bloody, embrace me, 

He loves fucking bruises, make him say please!

I anointed my crown, I love watching him bleed, 

Discarded, demented, demeaned, beautiful screams, 

Pleasure perfected, shove him down on his knees,

He can choke on my tears, fuck letting him breathe, 

He begs for his murder, for mercy, sweet pleas, 

Seduced, sucked then slaughtered, I’m his purgatory. 

Megan Forrest 

Undone

 Reflected recognition, parts of me in your eyes, 

Intense and intently you’re parting my thighs,

Falling for the freedom, feel me from inside, 

Forget all my fear, free the truth that I hide, 

Ravaged, reckless and wretched, so seductive and sweet,

Careful to be careless, our hearts may not meet, 

Dirty mouths and my moans muffle all doubt, 

Mesmerize me, patronize me, redemption sells out,

Fingertips forging fires, scratches slip down your spine,

Melting minds, bodies breathe,  intimately intertwined, 

Whatever you crave, crawl to you on my knees, 

Bring you to the brink, possess me as you please,

Pin me down, tie me up, erotic ruthless and rough,

On my long legs you linger, teased by each touch,

Taste myself on your lips, your soul under my tongue,

Inhaling my screams, I come, completely undone.

I understand the game, pain, disconnection, the whys,

On my soul, understand, you never needed to lie,

It’s not about what we say or we promise each other,

It’s about who’s by our side when it’s time to bury our mothers,

Who does not fear the silence if you don’t have the words,

Who can display they have heart, not just  pretend that they heard,

It’s who grabs onto your hand when the noose slips over your neck, 

Who challenges you to be better, who keeps your demons in check,

Who meets you on your knees when the pain makes you crawl,

Who pulls you out of the flames even when you lit up the walls, 

Who reminds you you’re gold when you don’t have a dime,

Who reels you back in when you’re losing in your mind,

Will they walk with you through hell to know your eyes and your soul,

Will they show you love even when you are cruel and cold, 

Do they talk to God about you while you sleep on their chest,

Do you trust them to be there when you force out the rest? 

Do they remain solid, up and down, through and through, 

Did you already know that the opposite is exactly what you’d do? 

When your two halves fight inside you, one truth, one liar,

Do you care that I suffer and burn after you set me on fire,

You run from yourself, numb with the bottle, her touch,

Keep settling for less, I’ll keep being love, keep being too much.

Confused by the way you smile when we,

Grab onto each other, like you almost feel free,

Always holding your breath like you’re under water,

Forget you’re a son of God and I am a daughter,

We come so close to destroying our demons,

Yet Fucking and fear won’t lead us to freedom, 

Feel you so deeply I believe it’s the truth,

Yet I felt the same way when I tightened that noose,

The rush of your skin when you slide right inside me,

You take all my pain, fuck me til I can’t see,

You stop holding your breath when my arms are around you, 

Like you’re finally home, can’t tell me that’s not true.

Collapse into me, my nails leave marks on your back,

We don’t rest when we’re wicked, I know this is fact. 

DNR

I was created to be a lover in a wasteland of souls, 

But my tits on your back can’t make you feel whole,

Your touch and your lips sweetly set me on fire, 

Yet your touch is not truth, fuck feelings, they lie, 

Trace your skin with my fingers, just confuses the facts,

You say that it’s you but I know it’s your mask, 

You’ve worn it so long, do you know what is real? 

If we run with our demons, we are destined to fail, 

We find comfort in Hell, we don’t know how to trust,

Scratch my nails down your back, controlled by my lust, 

Conflicted and cold, finally feel something again, 

Disconnected and bold, naked thoughts, skin on skin,

Crawling to you on hot coals, alive from the burn,

I give in, you get lost, left me waiting for my turn,

Hypnotized by your voice and the taste of your tongue,

Loyal to you and my pain, loaded, ready to run,

Soaked and stained by the past, our sins never come clean, 

You can’t show me your heart if you don’t want to be seen. 

Wounds

Letter by letter, I hear the wounds echo,

Each tone rips me open, reverberating,

Each sound wave crashes against me, 

Revealing small tears in my unhealed past.

Places I believed I had walked through, 

Where reality shows me I was still frozen, 

Soul not yet ripened or willing to truly know, 

The kind of knowing by which shame is released.

Those parts of me recoil from the light, 

Sodden and heavy with false representation,

Of myself, of my beauty, of my lacking,

Of my ever lessening stain of self loathing.

Obsessive compulsion, to cleanse the soul,

Too fast, too often, too sterile, 

Unveiling an unattainable picture of what should have been,

What the soiled, sick nurture has said is so. 

Love is not sterile, nor is the truth,

Embracing, longing for what is raw real, 

Dirty, disheveled,  pride in reverse, 

Freedom, accompanying compliance with imperfection, 

Foreign feeling of radical, redeeming acceptance. 

Rejoicing in gifts of visceral, venerable pain, 

A novel conception of weathered old wounds, 

And the bitterness of unclenching a fist, 

Allowing recoil from familiar chaos,

Creating space between critical me and condemnation. 

Courage through the burgeoning unknown,

Uncovering the grace of surrender, 

Softening the nettling of new naked skin,

Skin that mends, not masks, magnificent echoing wounds. 

Megan Forrest

January 1, 2022

 My brain still speaks in rhymes inspired by you,

I can’t help what my heart is required to do,

My breath caught in my chest, crashed to my knees,

You ignore my existence, through this pen I bleed,

You said you’d always be there, always to listen,

I cry to deaf ears, your heart locked up like a prison,

These lines they fall empty, the words sound dull,

I’m crashing, my heart aches, you won’t break my fall,

I know your intentions filled to the brim with the best,

I’m tired, I’m screaming, someone else’s heads on your chest,

How could you reach for my voice each day,

Just to use me, refuse me, throw me the fuck away,

Rage seethes, I boil, calm and serene on the surface,

When will I learn the lesson, its not love if it hurts us,

I was selfish and smitten, I succumbed to your smile,

I said I’m not in love, my heart, littered with denial, 

If it was just supposed to be fucking and fun,

Why do you shut me out, why did you run?

I never asked you for more than you gave,

You certainly tied me up, made me Pain’s slave,

You’re body is steel, why is your courage so weak,

I am trying to release you, I scream in my sleep, 

Disheveled, deluded, imagination tricked me again,

Erasing your touch on my heart, alone with this pen. 

Dumb Blonde

Sultry sex to silent stress, 

A muse must make you crack and cry,

I fucking hate how fast I fell, 

My intellect does not mean I’m wise. 

Next boy never numbs the pain,

If another harlot would the halt the hurt,

My lips would wander around another,

My perfume pressed on someone else’s shirt.

You just taught me I’m not built like that,

I can’t bounce from chest to chest,

A painful lesson I’m still learning,

This darling’s disheveled and perplexed. 

I wish I was made slightly stronger,

That I had a heart of stone or lusted less,

I smiled when I moaned your name,

Now it’s sound delivers deep distress.

Next to you were the brightest days,

Regret and realization of time misspent, 

Feverishly I toil to fake no feelings,  

Knowing now how little that I meant,

I am the owner of all these open wounds,

Many fools would love to kiss,

Hopelessly haunted by your hands,

And the many signs I chose to miss. 

You quietly quelled my questions, 

Dumb blonde didn’t dare to doubt,

I am sick and you are sick of me, 

Withdrawals weaken me now I’m without.

That sweet strong grin can sucker punch,

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes,

They undressed me just the other day,

Unbeknownst to me, the last kiss was goodbye. 

In confusion, coerced chaos, raw to touch,

I’ve been here so many times before,

So familiar this ache of letting go,

So tired of my heart and head at war. 

Yet I know you owe me not single thing,

My sweet is never attached to payment or return,

I can’t help my heart is built to break, 

I get leveled each time it gets burned.