Monday, March 26, 2012

the Torn Girl


Once upon a time,
there was a girl who was completely torn.
She had a man that told that he loved her;
vowed that he would die without her but she was doubting forever,
for her heart was longing for another.
Even though she really cared,
even though she would never hurt him,
he wasn’t the one in her daydreams.

She was mesmerized by the tattooed soldier with a magical smile;
the charming soldier that she loved from afar.
He wasn’t like the others.
Fun and captivating, the kind of romance that she desired.
The soldier then went bravely off to war and her lonely soul ended up in the arms of her anxious lover.

Now as the horror went on outside of her door,
she looked at her overprotective lover,
wishing that he was the breathtaking soldier.
In her mind she would confess her true devotion and ask:
“Why can’t you be him?
Why can’t you love me like he loves me?
Can’t you see that we’re meant to be?
Oh please,
all I wish for is you,
your face haunts me no matter what I do.”

She wanted to run through the trenches;
to her soldier but her fear took over.
What if everyone abandoned her?
Being alone is what she couldn’t bear.
Her overbearing lover is all she had.
As the bombs went off, she silently screamed.
She was trapped…trapped…trapped!


(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012 

About a fictional love triangle

Update


My poem "Phantom in My Head" is published in World Poetry Movement's "Stars in Our Hearts: Tranquility" http://www.amazon.com/Stars-Hearts-World-Poetry-Movement/dp/161936025X

Thursday, March 8, 2012

the Giggling Girl


She’s walking almost in a daze. It was nearing midnight and eighteen-year-old Bethany was still out in her mother’s garden. She had dizzying, frustrating thoughts of heartbreaks, failures, and back-stabbing friends that prevented her from sleeping. “What if I did this,” she thought, “What if I said that?” It was an agonizing cycle of questions about things in life that she couldn’t control. She then thought desperately, “I would give anything just to be a little kid again so I could be oblivious to everything or at lease change some things.”  She was on the verge of tears when she heard a little girl’s giggle.
“Who’s there?” she called out, turning on the flashlight that she was holding. No one answered. She just stood there for a moment and she heard the mischievous giggle again. It was coming from her mother’s labyrinth. Most people thought that it was strange that her mother actually wanted a labyrinth in the backyard but Bethany thought that it was cool and she had mastered it over the years.  The labyrinth was medium-sized but very tall and was made with gray, massive stone.
The little girl with curly, brown hair, who looked five or six and wore a blue, frilly dress, stood at the entrance of the labyrinth with her hand stretched out. The girl looked so similar to Bethany but she had no clue from where.   “Are you lost?” she asked the girl. The girl didn’t say anything, just giggled and ran into the labyrinth.
“Wait,” Bethany exclaimed, running in after her. The labyrinth seemed more closed-in than usual but she thought that it was just because it was in the middle of the night and her nerves out of whack.  She went through the labyrinth, zigzagging, going right then left. Even though she knew this labyrinth like the back of her hand, she was running into dead end after dead end and she couldn’t catch up to the girl. She would get a glimpse of the girl from only steps away but when she got close, the girl would be suddenly gone.
“What the hell,” she yelled in frustration. Resting for a moment, she leaned back against a stone.  Then the girl came out of nowhere and was now standing next to Bethany, making her jump out of her skin. She gasped, “Whoa!” She dropped the flashlight but caught it in time so it didn’t hit the ground and break. Light shining on the girl, Bethany got a good look of the girl and became pale with shock, smashing the flashlight at her feet.
The little girl was a mirrored image of Bethany from long ago, at age six. She had her curly, black hair, her freckles that she used to get every summer, and the blue dress that her aunt gave her. Bethany got goose bumps and fear possessed her. “This has to be a dream,” she thought, “or I’m finally going crazy.”
“You’re…” she uttered but being unable to speak.
“Come on,” giggled the six-year-old Bethany, grabbing her hand, “my friend wants to meet you!” Being speechless and in a trance, she let her young clone drag her along. She was led to an opening in the labyrinth that she never saw before and it looked like they stepped into a different dimension; the sky being blood red, three moons and suns shining, the trees dying all around, and the temperature was incredibly hot, causing steam to come up out from the ground. Then she saw a tall man dressed in red.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“My friend,” replied the child version of herself.
“Who is he though?” she asked.
“Satan.” Bethany’s heart practically stopped when her child self said the name. She tried to pull back but her tiny double had amazing strength. As they approached, she saw that the man was tanned, had black hair and mustache, bared horrific fangs behind an inviting smile, and fiery red eyes that were ablaze in the dark. Bethany began screaming hysterically as they got closer and closer.
“Quiet my dear Bethany,” said Satan, “I want to help you.”
“I don’t want your help!” she replied angrily. 
“But you said that you would give anything to be a child again,” he said happily.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, her voice now shaking, “You can’t turn me back into a child and besides, I know what ‘anything’ means. You just want my soul!”
“Not just your soul,” he smiled, “and no, I can’t turn you back into a child but with some assistance from my little helper, I can change your past and future.” He was pointing to her clone who was beaming.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“I can make her back to your past and she could relive your life for you,” Satan explained, “and I can give her different circumstances, different experiences so she couldn’t make any of your mistakes and your life will worth something…but for her to do that for you, you have to be my slave.” 
“NO,” she shouted, “I DON’T WANT OR NEED YOUR HELP!” She tried to run away but shadowy hands came up out from scorching ground and grabbed her ankles, dragging her back. She screamed and screamed in agony. She was trying to fight the hands, digging her nails in the dirt but it was no use.
“I was going to give this chance as a gift,” said Satan when the demonic hands brought her back, “but I think that I won’t give you an option. You messed up your life and you know it. You’re such a loser that it makes me ill! She’ll live out your life better than you!” He then slapped Bethany in the face and clapped his two hands in the air.
Dark clouds began to surround her, making it difficult to breathe and see. It also felt like a million hands were crushing her ribcage but she couldn’t scream out. She could only hear Satan and her clone talking.
“Are you ready?” asked Satan.
“Yeah,” she giggled. Satan snapped his fingers and suddenly the girl was gone in smoke. All that Bethany could hear now was the girl’s giggles echoing in her mind. Bethany then disappeared into the hellish unknown with Satan and was never missed or even remembered. Her life was taken over.    



(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012

Smashing the Mirror



I am standing in front of a smashed mirror.
The glass is cracked and pieces are everywhere on the floor;
My reflection is distorted, so beyond repair.
Blood drips off of the broken glass as angry tears fill my eyes.
My closed fist has deep cuts from trying to punch out a person that I sometimes hate,
a pathetic soul that tries to hide from her own life.

It’s the woman crying in the mirror.
She is possessed with loneliness and fear.
She still feels like a helpless little girl,
not knowing who she can trust anymore.
Her heart has been abused by insecurity and betrayal. 
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the most lost of them all?

I loathe what she is becoming,
She believes that her spirit has been shot down
but I swear, she will remember how to fight again.
I will remind her after the tears, she won’t hurt forever.
The happy thoughts are waiting for her
and I will be smiling into a whole new mirror.  


(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012

Very therapeutic.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

V DAY








My name is Wendy Kyle. It was always a never-ending, dark battle with my so-called friends Gerald and Tiffany. One moment, we were like a close second family and in a blink of an eye, we were worse enemies. Hateful words were their weapons of choice. When we would fight, they would point out my every flaw and put salt on old wounds until I was a spineless jellyfish.  I was always walking on egg shells around them and tried to do everything to keep them happy. Even when I was five, when we first met, I had to prove myself worthy to be their friend.
 When I met them I was the new girl and the youngest at school, having trouble making friends. I felt like everyone hated me and I was easily picked on. One day, our teacher Ms. Ploster left the room for a moment during art time. On my way getting my paint, I caught six-year-old sister and brother, Tiffany and Gerald drawing all over on the classroom walls. I gasped in shock and Tiffany quickly turned around to face me. She smiled mischievously and said in a fake nice tone, “Wanna help us?” She handed me a red crayon and Gerald smiled knowingly back at Tiffany. I knew that it was wrong but I thought that they were being friendly. I took the crayon and timidly drew a heart on the wall. Footsteps were approaching and I fearfully looked over my shoulder. They told me that it was no one but when I wasn’t looking, they ran away.
“Wendy,” exclaimed Ms. Ploster, “Did you do all of this?!” I looked around and I saw Gerald and Tiffany hiding in the corner.
Gerald mouthed, “Do you want to be our friends or not?” I stared at them for a second. They seemed kind but had a wicked sparkle in their eyes. I was so desperate for some friends that I made a stupid decision.
“Yes,” I told Ms. Ploster, “I did it.” I was sent to the principal’s office, was made to clean the walls, and even my mom and dad grounded me from the television for a week but I thought that Gerald and Tiffany were my friends now.
Years later in high school, they made me do more serious and dangerous things with them like shop lifting, stealing from our parents, dealing drugs, and Gerald even took me to prom for helping them rob an elderly woman. I knew that these things were wrong but I was their puppet and they pulled the strings. Even though we never got caught for these horrible things somehow, I was expected to take all of the blame for it if we did. I sometimes got the guts to say no to them but they gave me hell. Playing with my insecurities, they completely tore down my self-esteem by saying that I was nothing but shit without them. Then they would shun me, not talking to me, not even acknowledging that we were ever friends. Despite my efforts to remain strong, the loneliness would always become too overwhelming and eventually I would cave in. We would then go back to normal.  
Now I was twenty-one. I was going to college, working on a creative writing major and an art major.  Gerald and Tiffany went to school for a semester and just dropped out. Now they both worked at the general store. Since the first day of college, I was focused and constantly worked on homework. I’ve had been too busy to tag along with them and began to have the courage to say no more and more. College gave me confidence. I expected to have a big fight with them soon but surprisingly they tolerated my absence. Things seemed to be changing…well, that was until Valentine’s Day. 
It was a bitterly cold Valentine’s Day with snowflakes violently blowing in my face as I walked to their house. I was just drop off their Valentine’s Day gifts that I got them and go to the library but when I got there, it was as though they were waiting for me and they made me sit down for a while. Looking around, I noticed that we were alone. At first, we were just casually talking but then both of their faces became ominous.   
“Life has been miserable Wendy,” said Tiffany.
“Why?” I asked uncomfortably.
“Cause our freakin’ parents won’t give us extra money,” sneered Gerald, “so I was thinking that you could help us rob…”
“No,” I said firmly, standing up and not letting him finish, “I’m not robbing anyone, any place anymore. I can let borrow some money. How much do you guys need?” Before I knew what happening, Gerald slapped me across the cheek with incredible force, making me fall back.
“WATCH YOUR DAMN MOUTH,” he shouted, “WE ARE STILL YOUR FRIENDS COLLEGE GIRL AND YOU WILL DO WHAT WE SAY, GOT IT?”
Fighting back my stinging tears, I still said, “No I won’t.”
He then practically pounced on me and punched me repeatedly in the face while Tiffany was off to the side, kicking me in the ribs. I tried to get away but Gerald pinned me down. “YOU UNGRATEFUL,” they both spat at me as they beat, “WEAK, USELESS, DUMB LITTLE WITCH!” Blood was gushing excessively from my face and my whole body was in total agony but I wouldn’t let them see me cry. I wasn’t that pathetic girl anymore. Their eyes looked empty, so evil. Seeing their venomous souls, something snapped within me and amazing strength filled me.
I kneed Gerald in the groin and pushed Tiffany down with a free hand in one move. They both howled in pain. I got to my feet and ran into the kitchen.  I got a butcher knife from the block, the metal making a loud scraping sound. I wasn’t just trying to escape; now I wanted revenge. Gerald came at me and to his absolute shock, I shoved the blade into his gut. “This stops here,” I said in a low, confident tone. He stumbled back and fell onto the ground. Tiffany screamed and tried to attack me too but I punch her down. She was now weeping over her brother. He wasn’t dead, only badly injured and bleeding profusely. Without saying another word, I pulled out the blade from him and calmly washed my hands at the sink. Taking the knife with me, I was heading towards the door. 
“Where are you going?” asked Tiffany. I ignored her and kept on walking.
“Are you going to help your friend?” Tiffany asked hysterically, “Are you coming back with help?”
As I continued to walk, I sardonically said, “Don’t hold your breath.” I then walked out of their house, out into freedom and not ever knowing or caring what had become of them. I was no longer controlled.  





(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012




Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Fire Karen Handel!


Dear Friend,

Last week, Susan G. Komen for the Cure reversed its decision to defund a
Planned Parenthood program that gave millions of low-income women access
to breast cancer screenings.

While their decision was a victory for the millions of men and women who
joined together to demand change, the woman behind the attack on Planned
Parenthood, Karen Handel, is still in a senior position at Susan G. Komen.

What's more, the members of the board who hired her and approved of policy
change aimed at defunding Planned Parenthood need to be replaced with new
board members whose number one priority is fighting breast cancer, not
playing politics.

I told Susan G. Komen: Fire Karen Handel and appoint new board members who
are truly committed to the foundation's mission of doing everything
possible to fight breast cancer. I hope you will too. You can sign the
petition and get more information at the link below.

http://act.credoaction.com/campaign/handel_fire/?r_by=34641-3881456-1H89kzx&rc=paste1

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Don't Throw Planned Parenthood Under the Bus



Dear Friends,

The Republican plan to defund Planned Parenthood is working -- but if we take action now we may be able to stop the latest attack on women's right to health care.

It was just announced that Susan G. Komen for a Cure, America's largest charity to fight breast cancer, will no longer fund a program that provides free or low-cost breast cancer screenings for millions of women who get their health care from Planned Parenthood.

In abruptly pulling nearly $1,000,000 in funding for breast cancer
screenings, Susan G. Koman foundation cited a sham "investigation" into Planned Parenthood launched by Republican Rep. Cliff Stearns, one of the most militant anti-choice members of Congress.2 We have to stand up and fiercely defend Planned Parenthood -- and show Susan G. Komen and others who are considering caving to the radical right that we will not let
extremists defund health care for women that includes reproductive services.

I told the board of Susan G. Komen: Don't throw Planned Parenthood under the bus! Don't cave to anti-woman extremists and cut off funding for breast cancer screenings at the largest provider of health care for women.
I hope you will too. You can get more information and sign the petition at the link below.

Monday, January 30, 2012

the Solitary Prayer

 



Dear God, Our Heavenly Father,
please protect and hold me tightly in your loving arms,
when I’m feeling afraid, alone, and low;
needing to be reminded of the light.
Please be that warm comfort at night.  


(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012 

Popped in my head last night (:

Cyberspace Skank






Cyberspace Skank 

When did it become okay to diss your own best friend and tell every damn secret;
rumors spreading like the plague?
When did it become okay for young girls to degrade themselves and destroy their self-esteem?
Where was I when this became to be?
Sorry, I’m not fake;
I refuse to be another corrupted link,
I won’t be your cyberspace skank,
Because guess what, I know how to think!



(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012

Sort of venting about online fakes

Monday, January 23, 2012

Random 2012

Hi everyone, 


I don't know why writing this entry...recklessness I guess. I am writing a new short story. It's going to be good. :) A girl's wish will come true. How's everyone's year so far? My year has been great! Writing, chatting with friends, hanging out with family! 


For fun, here's me singing Rihanna's "California King Bed" I'm having a blast with my cam. 

Friday, January 20, 2012

Censored

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-16655272 : SOPA and PIPA Postponed 



Censored 

If we lived in a world of censorship,
words would be sugar coated, covered up, blacked out;
us never knowing what the story is really about!
Seeing us as oblivious and naive,
tainted information would be what they expect us to believe,
without questions, without ideas or opinions.
We would say rest in peace creativity,
farwell imaginative technology,
for the truth would only come with a fee.

With all of the greed of Hollywood and all the ignorance of government,
our lives would be restricted, so limited;
But I won’t buy into that,
I will be heard,
I won’t be a part of a world that is censored! 


(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2012 

Congress has thankfully stopped the voting of those ridiculous piracy bills after online protests. This poem just describes what would happen if they were passed and my extreme dislike. 

Never Forget

  Never forget  September 11, 2001  Smooches, prayers, and think Tink.