i like artists
artists of all kinds
artists of words
artists of colour
artists of thoughts
they're the civilisation
they're the world
they're the visionaries
the hearts of gold
an artist is the one with the voice
the radiance of the sun
the summer in your eyes
the lover in disguise
the hurt in the dark
the tears and the smiles
an artist hides deep down
the one who lives in pain and shame
they say artists will never survive
i say artists are the reason we're still alive
Following in the footsteps
of a lady dressed in white
not quite day
not quite night
We reach a pearly car
pop open the trunk
Startled by the cow skull
then she howls at the moon
I do too
as if our savage
want to be
you are no one
darling i'm lost
you are the only one that has my back
and you are no one
I hear the echoes of all the laughter of these times i forgot to enjoy
in every half-step between breath and anxiousness.
I know you will remember that i loved you all until it hurt
and that helps to alleviate the guilt of making it my aim to miss.
I can't help felt, i crash standing up
between the spaces of my grace and shamelessness
I have left up to my haphazard luck
and you are no one
a howl in the night maybe
you are a ghost
that only whispers in my ear
when i've lost all sense of self-control
and i've become no one
you know I know you did it
darling i'm drunk
and i know you know i'll just forget it
because we are no one
Let me whisper you a world spread in open-palm
and lay you wide-pictures etched in cobble-stone
till your feet find their way in the wake of alt-time
Let me grow you orchards on margins of probabilities
and capture breezy-smiles to place upon your sleeve
till illumined-steps of afternoon crumble before angels
Let me turn the planets on fingertip high upon wheel-rim
and show you matte mirror-lakes of superb-chances
till the evening-sky feels the shy-tiptoe of moon-kiss
please… let me….?
S T - 4 dec 13
Inspired by kate bush song.
even if you (ever) go away in the afternoon
I will wait for you
even in the next time
the odds are.. evening out
I lost myself
in all of my sorrows
I forgot who I was
I forgot what I stood for
I forgot why people liked being around me
I forgot how it feels to feel happy with myself
I forgot how it feels to be able to look in the mirror
Without shedding tears that could produce an ocean
I forgot what I promised myself
I forgot what it felt like to exist
I forgot what it felt like to be cared for
I forgot what it felt like to feed off of true love
not the love in intimate relationships
but the love of my family and friends
I became so focused on artificial love
I was addicted to it
But every time I loved
They'd tell me I wasn't enough
One boy even told me I should never feel love
because I don't deserve it
Another told me that I was an item
And the one after that told me he loved me
He made me feel like I was finally worth something
But then, he just left
and I promise all of you
that when I do something wrong
or when I'm telling a story of a fight or a breakup
I list the things that I did wrong as well
I'm never biased with my side of the story
But when I tell you
I did nothing but try
I mean it
I was just being myself
and I guess that's where I went wrong
And I've heard all the advice before
"You need to learn to be independent"
"You need to stop falling so fast"
"You need to stop giving yourself up"
I know all of these things, I really do
But I don't think they understand how hard it is
to walk with broken legs
to breathe in polluted air
to exist without a purpose
to love but never be worth it
As I lay in the bedroom,
My own personal confinement'
in which I oh so willingly created for myself,
I feel myself on fire,
My hands shaking out of utter frustration,
fighting every tear welling up in my eyes with all that I have left of my sense of mind,
But for what reason?
to be strong,
to reassure myself,
I ask myself what use is it to be strong if your utterly alone,
With no one to care weather your strong or not,
So I let go,
but just for a moment,
I allow myself to remember the pain,
the memories I locked away,
hoping someday they would cease to exist,
The troubling feelings that twist my heart and bring me to my knee's
letting out slow puffs of breath I calm my emotions,
wipe the water from my eye's ,
clear the tortured expression that once lay on my face,
I leave the moment and enter back into the world I made myself believe in,
I pretend to be strong.
Tell me your dreams
The desires for which you are so
Tell me so I can see the burning passion
in your piercing eyes
The sparkles that shine so prominently
Tell me your fears
The nightmares where dreaded creatures lurk in the
darkness, attempting to penetrate your mind
Tell me so I can prevent those common shadows before
they befuddle and torment you
The burning fury they obtain when they engulf you
at your most vulnerable state
Tell me how your mind works
The intricate way for which those wonderful
thoughts of yours flow
Tell me how to be so magically profound about
life, time, and death
The ways of straying away from reality to catch
a glimpse of paradise
Tell me the forbidding truth about my unfortunate path
The cold, naked, and abandoned road for which
I have regrettably travelled upon
Tell me that paradise is at the bottom of a trench
And I shall allow myself to fall, so that my life
shall perish happily upon landing in paradise
The corpse lied untouched,
In the crepuscular light,
her shadow enkindled.
Her kins stood panic-stricken.
Her fidelity was being questioned.
It was time now for the sun to set.
The birds were finding there way.
And the darkness was about descend like everyday
The shadows seemed to be taking over the grimaced faces
But she however,
Was trying to resurrect her soul.
This was the epitome of her infatuation.
But she had always been an Ailurophile,
words are better on paper and candlelight
the smell of ink and crisp turns of pages white
the binding creaks and soul writ in
this screen is not the same thing friend
it's maddening for this phone to change my words
ah, how often it does so
as if it knows
as if it grows
what could it show
when has itself,
alone so rowed
of feelings felt
or horrors shown
or magick felt
or fury spoke
or walked along a razors edge
hanging on by just a thread
or strained beyond all known thought
or had a thought that wasn't taught
or quenched a lust
so fervent wrought
or plagued its mind
with glory sought
or told a tale
that others'd not
what a soul
that this thing's got
So what if you think I'm crazy
No phase if you can't handle me
I'm too honest for anybody's games
"Jennaveve, is that..your real name?"
No it's not, it's Jenny from the block
Work two jobs always looking at the clock.
If you want, I'd take a pit stop road trip.
Anywhere but don't make it so quick.
This is where I list off a bunch of places I'd rather be. Nothing different just different faces I'd rather see. Venice, California or Lanikai, Hawaii
I write a lot but once n a while these trapped thoughts convey messages that ought to be taught.
This rap is only half through.
For a white girl it's kind of hard to do.
Nahhh it's not being racist is inside of a box,
it's closed, locked, sealed up tight.
Only open minded people
can see daylight in the night.
"Or rides the night train
all the way to the light"-said Mr. Ahmad
I've learned that there may not be a God
And that everyone has there quirky little flaws
. But flaws are perfect to work with cause that's what's unique. Just speak the words though they come out bleak. Honesty filled with lies are more common than you think. But there is no truth, only what you live and see.
Alone midst my wayward thoughts, upon the caravel of agony
A storm among the twisted seas with wrath had drew upon me
Fastened between my linen sheets which purpose served me dryly
I shiver in the heartless night waiting for death to crawl upon thee
My wishes ever poisonous with malicious intent meant only to beseech you
To return as a creature of the night, but in spite the knife, the knife!
The one which impales with strife upon the meaning of fight
The weapon of an imp suddenly is thrust upon me meant to take a life!
But could I simply take this man, who's family awaits back in our mother land
Yet here he rests in sweet slumber and I must fear not to linger
Or be caught in the act of murder, my conscious flees me, my body violently disagrees
Is something so vital as this my right? But the choice is mine in hindsight
Before the curtains of the night, draw back and release the hellish light
Upon my skin revealing my plight, leaving me in clear sight
It is truly judgement I fear, from the devilish eyes of the venire
Ignorance flees, all is clear, the right direction, the path appears
For now at the end of the pole, looking thousands of feet below
I see a shadow of a man, and I know I am the one to go
I take my life.
Maybe it's because of all the lies,
Or maybe because of the ones I despise,
But sometimes I think it's about you,
But I'm not sure; I've got no clue
Maybe it's you,
From my point of view,
Never will you face rejection
The way your dimples are only on one cheek,
The way you laughed that day by the creek,
The way you held my hand trigging sparks,
The way you looked at me at the park
I don't know why you make me feel stupid,
Like I've been played by the Cupid,
I don't care anymore on why this is,
For I'd like to stay like this.
you scare me.
not like elliot scared me -
he was frightening because of the sweetness of his smile
you are frightening
because you are a sweetness that lies
the way you laugh,
call me silly pet names
puts a bad taste in my mouth
a sick feeling in my stomach
you are a wolf
it's been almost three years
since you sunk your teeth into me
i came close to forgetting
until i found an old conversation
started second guessing
even though i had made a note
"never let yourself again,
and now, once more
the lamb has walked into
the lions den
do you know a place
where the birds are humming a lullaby
where the sunlight peeks around your windows
where the daisies are blooming?
that's the place where I'll always miss you
do you know a place
where the waves are refusing
to stop kissing the shoreline
where the sun is slowly drifting down
illuminating the water with shimmers of gold
where the clouds are beginning to disappear
and the shadow starts to hide slowly in the horizon?
that's the place where I'll always remember you
do you know a place
where the beautiful constellations are hanging
in the midnight sky
where the starlight is shining so bright
where the wind is sweeping all your pain?
that's the place where I'll always wait for you
do you know a place
where the brown leaves are falling
where they're feeling hopeless
and merging with the ground
where the trees are giving up
and let the snowflakes tear down
from the pale sky
where the sunshine starts to come back again
and brush the color of the green leaves
until it grows and blossoms again?
that's the place where I'll always love you
Venus was back to her wicked tricks; I never planned for the way you stole the breath from my lungs, but kept me begging for more. Or what about the beauty in your words? The Goddess of love and beauty could never compare to the way you once made me feel.
I bet Zeus had never thrown a lightening bolt as shocking as the way it felt when you first held my hand. I bet every lover he ever had never quite made him feel as complete as you could make me feel.
But there you were, and like Hephaestus you built me a stable castle for every pulse of my heart. I never felt so safe in such a small room, but now the walls close in and even Vulcan's fire can't match the heat from your embrace.
You were also Mercury, and your quick feet made me trip far faster than it should have. I just wanted to keep up, but our messages must have been left behind and now Cupid's arrows don't quite work like they did when we were young.
I felt like Tantalus when you let the vulture of your mind rip apart my stomach and leave me in sections on the rug. You were the food held just out of my reach and you were the waters I drowned deeper and deeper into, day in and day out.
You managed to take
the breath right from my chest.
As if you stole my desire to live.
My lungs forgot how to inflate
when you weren't there
to guide my veins and
beat out the steady rhythm
that made my life.
So this is drowning.
This is gasping for air.
This is sucking in the tiny
pieces scattered in the aftermath.
But you never really forget
how to inhale, you only wish
you could. Because the oxygen
makes me dizzy with memories.
Freckles smattered on cheekbones.
A smile that wasn't for me.
Hands caressing spines.
Greedy bruises along my thighs.
The first words you spoke.
The silence you used to say goodbye.
It's funny how the things that keep
you alive, make you wish they didn't.
Most nightmares involve a shooting or a some kind of realistic event. My nightmare is living a life where I'm barley floating, the anchor to my ship never sunk. The shackles on my wrist prevent me from my best and tell me I'll never be good enough. This man with a suit tells me I will never get there, my life will be full of lies and torment. My nightmare shows my mother dying a slow and painful death, the feeling is watching a beautiful flower try to blossom but can never find the sun. I'm trapped in these white walls that scream of the hatred words that fill my mind with the thought of never waking. These nightmares are the same, they never stop and I never seem to wake up.
You say “gross” but I see yum
Even when you feel undone
You will never be tasteless to me
My dear, you add so much flavor you see,
Sugar and spice, those things can be nice
But you are more, nothing else will suffice
After tasting your infectious personality
Nothing else tastes of such quality
You glowing, vibrant, radiant heart
What better place to start?
Adds flavor, and color to my life too
I hope you know, I hope you see it true
Your lovely eyes that sparkle and gleam
So pretty, nothing ever as nice will be seen
Your little nose, cuter than any button
[ignore this line, nothing rhymes with button]
Your gently mouth; your lush lips
That joyful smile, when the corner tips
Just slightly up, stretching, reaching
All this to say, my dear sweet Darling,
Even when you feel it to be
You say “gross” but I see yum
Even when you feel undone
As her blonde hair twirls into the sun
As he spins her, her dress looks like a kaleidoscope
They dance as he strokes her face
This love is not easy to find
There seems to be no sounds
On the wings to set sail
I want to collect a future for you and I
Through continents and back home
When shifting winds grind at our core
Infecting our love but rage we leave alone
Like cracks in a sidewalk we all have flaws
As the years move on our backbone begins to descend
We still make love, but with the sounds of our voice
We smile at one another, daydreaming about the past
We're growing older as our eyes become cloudy
Our memories parted ways
You looked so heavenly that morning
I became fearful without you
You're the lace of a golden summer
The stillness in the sea, weary and forlorn
I take comfort in knowing that we cherished every day
The steps that we took through changing times
We were together, I don't regret a single day
Imagine if i was given a moment
just one moment
a slice from my past
i would keep it close to my heart
would never vanish
i'd buy a safe in my heart abode
put it there under lock and key
i could open it whenever i wanted
I would choose a time of the happiness we shared
laughter that warmed our hearts
choose a time that tested all of me for you
through everything wev'e been through
a moment of close companionship
moments of muse,
moments of worst distractions
moments of you
moments that would lift my spirit by your smile
of comfort and peace
drawn by our imperfections
moments of tears
tears of joy
beauty and innocence
just a moment
is all i ask for
id give anything for a moment of you
a moment with you
i refuse to forget your smile, your taste, your smell
a moment when i risked everything for you
If i could have one moment
a slice from my past
it will be the days i laid with you
days we kissed and longed hugs
days we enjoyed the sunset and fireworks
days of rain and days of sun
days of thunder and days of lightining
cuddled in each others arm underneath the blanket
days of diamond dust that sprinkled
days of moments that kindled our love
days lost in moments
Sometimes there’s this emptiness in the soul
With which the saddest songs would not heal
And the soft kisses of tissues would not soothe
The burns of the acidic tears
Something in there
Cannot be resurrected
With a thousand voltage defibrillator
Most of the time,
the rotting flesh is still alive
The heart still beats
The EKG device monitoring
Each stubborn peak and trough
In this blind bleakness,
There is still a small spark
An iridescent bubble that refuses to be burst
And with quiet determination,
There is a defiance to live
This small act of defiance
Is the greatest courage of all
A Forever Love That Grows
The day you first came in my life
I became that someone new
You showed an inner beauty
And a love that was so true
Now a part of me forever
Inside my inner soul
You touched my heart with kindness
And made my life more whole
From that time when first our eyes did meet
And I know forevermore
I will feel the same inside my heart
As that day when you were born
You came into the world so pure
And changed me, this I know
You gave to me a forever love
A forever love that grows
I dared to whisper aloud, two of the priceless items I wanted; you heard me.
First on my list was getting a once upon a time, adored father and nice guy,
to hear me and know t'was always made known to our sons, he loves them.
I thank you for opening his heart towards greater acceptance and that he
will always and forever honor the existence of the unwritten and binding
contract which undeniably states, in regards to our children, who are minors:
"When you become a parent, it's imperative and mandatory, at all times,
what's in the best interest of children, is to be placed far above your own."
The second item was asking you to ask The Mother of Nature to melt the snow.
I'm very happy that my world warmed a bit and less slippery were our roads.
Signed with love and continuing hopes that never the need will arise again,
to hit my hard working and clever ex who was and is working hard at being
a great dad, over the head with my own style of bricks; aka "my words"!
have changed now
years later and i have these
violent, tender things
my pale, thick
legs and bruised arms
and the hollows under
my eyes are fighting
a vicious war against
the desperate, wide-eyed
pleadings of my head.
these desperate, cheering lavender flowers.
petals sprout from your fingertips
and they move across my body
in waves of longing and desire
bright blooming in the cold hollows
between my bones
where light has never shone
the way sparks fly from your
eyes sets me aflame from the
sweat of my hair, to the
crooked edges of my fingernails to the
soft sinew of my calves
you’ve created a world anew
in between the
whispers of my fears and insecurities
I'm not the only lying bitch
How many times did you tell me one thing
But you meant another
You're a manipulative witch
Using people for your own benefit
It's taken a while
But I've finally woken up
You're just a stupid phase
I mean, how could I possibly love someone
I've never met or even really spoken to
How could I love someone
That has such a vindictive heart
At least I'm remorseful for my actions
But in you there's no ounce
Of empathy, sympathy, or even kindness
At least not any that I've seen
I'm the one who is genuine
I'm the one who cared
I'm the one who loved
So am I the liar?
Or are you?
[allow] me to lick the Newness:
off your face,
away from the yapping white noise in the distance,
out of the infant smile you shed.
Lets dance the color of welded [souls]
all you who fracture under [the heavy mass
of] my emerging grin, cast the [humanity]
from your leaden chins
lets [radiate beyond our stiff] elderly shells-
stretch to the most intricate composition
of every genre of pebble [person]
Don’t stop there!
[pass] pockets of serendipity to the greyest nimbus,
the slightest twitch of grass,
the [breath] of soil.
why must we comfort Zones?
I will murder your plush practiced demeanor
to [nurse] your pallid glimmers
of certified [You].
I love how good I am at driving in the snow. It's like second nature. Skiing with 2,000 lbs. The headlamps hit snow devil whirl winds and the water crystal's light up in their obviously belligerent dance of rancorous cold. The lungs wince in remembering the soul stealing gusts that bruised me while waiting for the bus to go to school. Every yard on the block is scathed to a thin perfect sheen where snow settles in the drive ways and streets. Winters gentle reminder that the home is sweet and the world outside is raw and dangerous.
I was so worried about how the hellish wind of Lehi, Utah would bleed me this year. Leave me more exposed but the heart calloused just in time to seek deeper truths and guide my soul to a sober path.
We all gave thanks recently, letting the tryptophan calm our racing hearts and heal our mood. Spending much needed time with the beautiful families we call our own. My sisters are more then just glue that holds us all together but key stones. Do mother's ever really know?
Now with thanks on mind and heart, forgiveness and apologies weigh in. So lucky to be alive, and so lucky to have all that we're given, "this chance to be alive and breathing." What have we taken for granted? What people have we unknowingly or knowingly abused?
I have to say I'm sorry again. Not the first and hardly will be the last. My beautiful friend just know it had nothing to do with you. I want to pull away but it would be a lie to say that isn't one of the hardest things to do. Despite what underlying emotions have been persistent in me and despite whatever I feel or felt in a moment your timeless friendship means more then ever. So I say I'm sorry, and with sincerity I ask for your forgiveness.
P.S. Sorry to always be so vague and poetic all the time. My mind doesn't think any other way.
She worries about the way she looks in the morning
Is she too fat?
Does she have on enough make up so no one can see the "ugly"?
Is her hair perfect?
Do her clothes look nice?
Will she ever get a boy that likes her for who she is?
She tries so hard to look her best even though inside she's just a mess
And when she comes to school her friends will say she looks good
She wonders what they would say without all of this on her
And when she gets home, she takes it all off
Crying at the way she looks
She's just a girl trying to fit in
She's one of the girls who can't see them selves as pretty unless they look fake
She's just a girl who can't be herself
When she looks absolutely beautiful with just her
He gets teased
Maybe because he doesn't dress like them
He doesn't talk like them
He doesn't do the things boys do
He doesn't break girls hearts because he's never had one
Those girls don't like guys like him
because he is different
He is quiet
He keeps to himself
He wants to shout but he's afraid he will be judged
When he is just being more hurt by not talking
He goes home and thinks about ending it all
But is too scared
So he keeps pushing forward and doesn't give a damn
Even though inside his body is rotting and he has a pain in his chest
He doesn't cry, he screams
And then he closes up again
He just wants to pretend
What a perfect life would be without all this
So they close their eyes and dream about the perfect life.
How gloomy a day such as this
with obscure clouds that hang in the air
paying no attention to the sun that
wants to peek its head through.
What dense, opaque weather
filling up the atmosphere like a
laddle filling up a bowl
of grey, creamy soup.
It must taste disgusting.
May be I love you.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
Of pressing hard into you,
On cold nights,
When the room’s dark,
and all you can see,
is our panting and labored breathe.
The stink of sweat and clenched fists.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
of drunken mistakes,
on unmade beds,
when whole worlds on fire,
and all you can smell,
is the sweet pitch and sap of smoldering clothes .
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
of old age spent alone,
on creaky porches,
when all my senses have faded,
and I can’t love anymore of this world.
Is the end always found alone, in places like this?
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all, fighting to the end.
Or maybe all of these things,
but then again,
maybe I love you.
There are no magic memories
Fit to fix an old man's soul,
Or time befuddled bunnies
Traipsing down a rabbit hole.
There is no pot of gold, I'm told,
At the rainbow's end.
Nor an Alice fool enough to call
The Queen of Hearts her friend.
There is no quest for Camelot
Unsinged by writer's block.
Or a Pan within a labyrinth
Dispensing magic chalk.
There are no Gnomes, no spirit keys,
No dragon wars, no trees that sneeze,
No roads paved in that yellow brick,
No fairies darting low and quick
Through enchanted dandelion seas
Alongside the Everbetter Bees.
There are no mountains draped in gold,
Nor pixie dust bright as the stars.
No armored bears to fight the cold
Just to gain some battle scars.
There is no cheese upon the moon,
No mermaids deep in a lagoon,
Or pirates haunting Neverland,
Nor flying carpets o'er sea and sand.
No segacious wizards wise and fair,
No time-traveling rocking chair
Until that wild winding wind we share
Showers imagination here and there,
Up, up high and down below,
In places gently capped with snow,
Where every wiley fuss will know
All the greatest memories go.
There are no wonders left to see
Until somebody sets them free.
And that's where Carroll inspires me,
And I get so lost in young Barrie.
Where one rides a magic alligator,
Dahl flies in his glass elevator.
Where Genie's kindly grant a new wish,
Geisel shares his "one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,"
To my Muse, this is the grandest sight,
And why I am compelled to write.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"I can believe anything provided it is incredible."
~ Oscar Wilde
oh beautiful man
your mind, god, your mind
i bask in it's shine
i read your words
i love every side of you
i love you in your silence
in your screaming too
i can't explain the draw
the knowledge that i have
you are the master weaver
i wish to be fiber in your hands
how can it be you've captured me
true, i'll follow you eternally
inside me is a raging sea
my heart it's cried an ocean
no one can cherish you as i do
no one will honor and obey
no one will hold a torch as brightly
no one can appreciate your decay
my darling you will never know
what sweet torture i endure
how many times a day i think of you
i pray your name
my heart, it's cried an ocean
i'll sail away
into your arms
i'll proudly stay
you'll finally see why i say
my heart, it's cried an ocean
I would tell you I can't go to bed because
hell is loving you in my sleep and
waking up alone
and that i'd rather never sleep again
than to live through that
I would tell you that every time I open my mouth
I want you to shut it
I would tell you that you have
the kind of glance that could crack
and make it feel
And I know it sounds cliché but
your breath is the water that floods
into the roots of my stomach and grows
the daisies being kissed
back into you
If I had a lover I would call these
If I had a lover I would think of this
infection in my head
as "you're the one I can't live without"
If I had a lover I would tell you
doesn't actually make me sick
And if I had a lover
I would need to learn not to kill myself
in the process
But you might not be.
That's what you think,
again and again in your head
like a DEADLINE
in capital letters.
When the race is over
you keep sprinting,
another lap, why not,
more in the tank.
Even if it pulses red,
keep on, keep on.
There is no ovation in the end,
just a shattered guy
walking home come spring.
knows you better than you.
It is happening again.
This road won't stop,
a stream of confectionery,
scoff the lot now.
It's been written before
in pages turned beige,
in papers gone old.
Do you mind? Do you hell.
Go ahead, roll the ball,
throw the dart.
I know who you are.
I know what you do.
A circle in a circle
in a circle.
I'd prevent you
but you're already
tumbling down those stairs.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time (more personal than usual), and the follow-up to 'December The Second.'
My weakness is strength
Passion flooding my veins
You'll never contain me
not even with chains
I'm fueled by madness
By anger and grief
Don't tell me just what I should do
I'll always be Commander in Chief
My scars they have hardened
They're my armor and shield
And now I have healed
You won't take me down
I'm playing the field
It is rare to have your feelings be so greatly impacted
By a single person that you have only begun to know
But you feel like you have known forever
Like two souls have crossed paths in time
But have finally met in person
I fear it but girl I'm falling
I'm swimming in the baby blue of your eyes
Feeling the power of your heartbeat
Held so close to mind
But I still fear the fall
So much that I resist it
Because I've fallen before and the landing hurts
And still hurts me now
As I look into your soul
And know that I can't give you everything
Because it has already been given
But fear is petty in the face of love
So tell me now before you miss your chance
Will you take my hand
And forget the fall
And just dive in together?
Also as an update, I have a few works in a planning stage and I have a poem currently being drafted. Hang around and it'll be out soon. Thanks for the support y'all as I'm nearing my 20,000th read!!!
Winds whipping certainties into,
Spinning around every drop of thought she
This turmoil, the only survival she's ever known,
Keeps her in the air, suspended, ambiguous, beautiful or terrifying?
So she shakes and cries in fear,
Of the day she stops spinning.
Surrounded by biting cold fronts,
Pushed around by sparks of warm relief,
She's a hot mess, sticky, humid, and alive with electric charge.
Her pleas bellowed into thunder,
Static shock breaking her voice,
Into something massively engulfing.
The kind of sound that makes a grown man feel small.
You can feel her coming from miles away.
She knows the weight of her presence better than anyone.
So lonely and heavy is her grief,
So bright and menacing is her capability.
Ironically, just the right balance of
Swiftly reacting, turning, changing her,
Into this rain ridden,
Ferociously complex storm system,
Stealing the heat she can,
Clinging to any energy she once drew on.
Never releasing her festerings.
Standing above a world she cannot touch,
You are not god, you are not my Lord;
You are a beast that corrupts my soul;
I find peace not, when I pray in thee;
You feast on my soul--you pain and hurt me.
You are a fiend, just like all my friends;
You are tied to an awkward time and space.
And is your soul as sharp as your false prayers?
I can find words that shall hear me better.
You are no safety, nor any assurance;
I hate your speech--within your cold bible;
You are not worthy of love, nor any true spirit;
You are a mere space no sane souls can ever meet.
I used to know, in Heaven, another Lord;
But my faith was marred, it was distorted.
This Lord of mine was kind and simple;
His heart was All-Resilient and Humble.
My Lord was gone in one sway of smoke;
As none wanted to hear more from me.
I was strong in faith--and t'is was no joke;
But none would look, and pushed Him fast away.
Ah, my Lord, in whom I used to hear salvation;
And not grief like this which burns my heart.
I found within me--a great deal of admiration;
But none would believe, and He was made gone.
I knew another, in more mature years;
But He was as crude as a grizzly bear.
With His soulless heart, he tore my faith up;
'Till my heart withered, and nothing remained.
He preached but the beauty of wealth;
And to forge maturity on this dire soil;
He turned one another an enemy;
He played with fate, as if ‘twas His doll.
I was in deep grief, I was in bare crises;
I believed not the sun sets and the moon rises.
Ah, Lord, and after I lost thee even more;
I roamed sightlessly like none before.
And now I’th been forced back to thee;
Art thou still hungry, or art thou satisfied?
Haven’t thou sent me enough agony;
When shall thou finally give up?
Now I hath been cramped back to thee;
Art thou still angry--doth thou want to kill me?
Thou explaineth never--why I taketh my breath;
Thou reasoneth never--what is in life after death.
For I believe triumphs are not for those who sin;
For I believe prayers are not done by the mean.
For I believe in life there is no such scarcity;
For I believe we are united by wordless destiny.
For I believe He is One; and is loved freely;
For I believe He loves back, with relentless mercy;
For I believe He is the One, and owneth no partner;
For I believe He is who rules, and not another.
For I believe none was made crucified;
For I believe He is alive, and shall never die;
For I believe such stories are all but a lie;
For He is who gives, and breathes sight to the eye.
For I believe the cross is no glory;
For I believe such is a vain myth;
For I believe He is absolute;
For I believe He is the only Truth.
And about this I can lie no more;
Nor stand back as I did before.
He is who holds my mortal hands;
He who cares better than my friends.
Still I am lost, I am lost in thee;
For thou hath betrayed my most questions.
For thou hath no words--nor poetry in me;
For thou ignore--and neglect me in disambiguation.
And I hate thee, I hate thee too much;
Thou hath blinded me and led me astray.
Thou giveth room but to desire and lust;
Thou lead my soul to ultimate decay.
Thou regard not shyness and virginity;
Thou accept not humble words and pure sympathy.
Thou encourage day and night ecstasy;
Thou disfigure us by mock forgiveness.
Thou told us to be unjust and sin;
Thou told us to pursue and be mean;
Thou loveth pleasure, and left me unsure;
Thou gave me disease, but showed me no cure.
Now I’th realised that my God is Him;
He who attends my day and night dreams.
I care not what thy devils may say;
I shall care for Him only--all through the night and day.
For the Lord who leads and forgives;
For the Lord who dies not and shall live;
For the Lord whose Throne is up high;
Veiled perfectly by the blue midnight sky.
For the Lord who creates life and death;
For the Lord who gives mouths and breath.
For the Lord who is One and only;
For the Lord who is sole and fair.
Then I can pray with my whole sane heart;
And rest my minds from this lifelong war;
My Lord is One who lets my blood flow;
Years back, presently, the day after tomorrow.
And by Him I shall remain prudent;
Though He is far and farther and invisible.
I shall long for His Paradise and Heaven;
One for the kind hearts; for the devoted and humble.
Then I shall craft even more poetry;
A poem for my Lord’s tremendous delights;
I shall make it warm and lively;
And tell tales of future years in Paradise.
And I shall turn back to Your prayers, God;
After years and years of fraying Thee alone.
Now I shall come back to my untainted faith;
Please hesitate not, nor make me need to wait.
For in You only doth I find my doors;
And answers to my once lonely heart;
I cannot lie back, I cannot lie no more;
That I and Thee can never stay apart.
And my faith will be like those stern winds;
They can be felt, while remain unseen;
Wish me a welcome, and not a farewell;
Keep me safe from Thy spells of hell.
And let me remain in my bows;
As I shout my praise, as my head goes low.
And let me remain where I am;
To cite Thy praise, say Thy Holy Name.
i'm currently laying in my bed with tears in my eyes for the first time in as long as i can remember. this feeling is far too familiar, and i didn't miss it at all. it feels like one of those old friends you didn't mind not seeing anymore, you just sort of accepted their absence. although this isn't a friend; it never has been nor will it ever be. it's a foe, and alter ego, and as wretched as it is to say, it's truly my former self. i've heard countless times the phrase "the hardest thing to endure is watch the one you love, love someone else", but there is a bit of deceit behind it. in my personal opinion, the hardest thing to endure isn't having the one you love, love someone else, but just simply knowing they don't love you back. any person could possess their heart, while at the same time, they posses yours. it's a dreadful feeling, really. it's consuming, and with the consumption comes emptiness. the emptiness is what sits in the pit of your stomach. it's a contradiction, i guess you could say. lately i've become nothing but a contradiction. in the words of an anonymous novelist, a "fatal contradiction", which frightens be down below the contradictory emptiness in the put of my stomach, goes through my blue veins, creeps into my fingertips, which act as puppets by making their way up to their controller, beginning to claw at their puppeteer to make the thoughts stop.
Why is it that winter
portrays darkness, a death upon the Earth?
Sorrow, Mourning, and Melancholy
But if only we could see
Microscopic are these flakes that fall
so gently and not one of them alike
You catch one in your hand
delicate, it melts
Is that what leaves you feeling sad?
Just think, together each of these snowflakes
Blanket the earth and caress branches of trees that have no leaves left to bare;
they sink into the earth and into our bones
Is that what leaves your feelings cold?
Looking out our warm houses we see the sparkling white
We hear not but a sound
All is at peace. It is silent.
Is that what leaves you lonely?
This desolate, lovely new place the earth has been crested with
Soft but cold to the touch, beautiful but vacant
Distinct snowflakes to blame.
What feeling are you left with then?
She walks down the hallway with dark-tinted sunglasses but it’s 9 pm and she’s late for her night class. You know this because you're in the same class and you’re also late but the difference is your knees keep kissing the floor from trying to run with your soaked shoes stomping on the quiet hall of your school. Her back is facing you but you can almost make out her side-view. You see a cigarette dangling on her lips. She exhales and drops the stick on the floor, her boots making contact with the ashes to disintegrate it further. She finally turns around and you stare at her wondering how someone could be so calm and collected. She took off her glasses and stared at you, shaking her hair to rid the little droplets of rain that made a home in the black silky strings attached to her scalp. Your palms sweat and you grow confused. You see nothing in the orbs reaching a hand out to yours and suddenly you’re catapulted back to the now and you’re staring at a reflection of yourself in the girl’s bathroom after making an excuse to your professor about how you’re feeling sick but really, you’re sick of the sharp nails scraping the board doing nothing to teach you algebra or...what class were you taking? You can’t stay there. You feel like your skull is about to break. The bag under your eyes feel heavy and they’re screaming at you that they can’t carry your eyes any longer. You ignore them. Because your chest is saying the same thing about your heart. You wonder how you got to the point where your brain stopped sending out your conscience to tell you that vodka is not gonna wipe out your memory and that blades were meant to tear other things, not your skin. Where your angel and your devil fall off your shoulder from trying to shake off all your feelings and they stopped trying to get back up there and whisper to your ear. The devil wins anyway. And he knows it. You know it. (So why did you let it happen?) You stare at the mirror carefully and regard the girl with the pale skin, empty vortex in the shape of eyes and try to reach out your hands inside to see if you can uncover something but you notice your fingers disappearing in front of you and you can’t feel your arms. In fact, you can’t feel the rest of your body. You are simply a husk of man, now. An apparition that looked like the girl after self-destruction that one night which led to an unbreakable habit. The Future aches for the Present to switch places because it knows more a lot about what's going to happen but you also know that your mistakes are gonna catch up with you sooner or later so you stand back and watch the Present detonate on the bathroom floor.
The tiles are cold and you feel your limbs going weaker. The walls are closing in on you and you wonder if they came to keep you company. You want some company. Your eyelids is falling asleep and the last you see is a closed door. You liked that door. It didn't give way to strangers tonight. You try to listen to your heartbeat but the silence is screaming too loud. You plead for it to go away but it stays. And you stay. Laying on the bathroom floor, you stayed. Everyone else resumed what they were doing and you stayed on the bathroom floor. You stayed.
I can't string words together
and make beautiful phrases
they way you do
I'm not the best at conveying my feelings
and I especially suck at
turning them into understandable
text on paper
but I just want you to know
that you are what I think of
on a quiet Thursday afternoon
when I'm with my friends
and thinking about you
instead of laughing at the jokes
you are on my mind
even when it is 12 a.m. on a Sunday night
and I have a shitload of work to do
but I can't because I want to keep talking to you
you are constantly
on my mind
you are on my mind right now
as I try to piece these words together
in hopes that maybe you'll read this
and that you'll get a clue
because you bring to life the throbbing pain
and the five year old impatience
when it's been a day
and I haven't heard from you
because I can't stop
stop thinking about you
and it hurts
and I hope that you
I didn't bother to fix up anything because this was typed up as my emotions were overflowing and I want to keep it that way.
And I am really bad at titles.
You left me, untitled and unsafe.
I hope you can forgive me.
I never will.
There have been ten people like you that I have tried to help.
I forgive you.
At first, I hated you.
We were so close.
You just left me. All alone.
I know you never meant to hurt me. You thought it was for the best.
What you don't know is that every time you dragged that blade across your wrist you dragged it across mine too.
Your plague has pained so many.
What you don't realize,
Maybe you do now...
I don't know...
What you didn't realize is that when you killed yourself, you took part of me with you.
Each night I relive that moment.
The moment you hung us,
feet dangling just inches above the ground,
we feel weightless,
it's really the weight being ripped away from our shoulders.
The moment when we swallowed a handful of those brightly colored tablets.
Bodies convulsing as we reject them.
The brain still fights to remain.
I relive that moment when we put that barrel in our mouths.
Our brains, our emotions, our passion.
Across the walls, floor and bed.
The hole in our ceiling remains unpatched because nobody can fix the pain that that hole shows.
You were right...there.
I could feel you leave.
I could feel a part of me ripped away from me like a newborn from the mothers arms.
You never really left, though, did you?
You just dropped out.
My friends, you stand with me today as if it were still our last.
My arms reach out to show you how much I've missed you.
But they can't.
Every slice across my veins, every drop of blood is a tribute to you.
Maybe that's how I want to tell you that I'm sorry.
I still see you here.
I see you in my dreams,
my eyelids like curtains on this very stage.
I see you on my arms.
I'm sorry that I couldn't help you.
I'm sorry for everything.
I am not who I used to be now.
You have taught me morals.
You have taught me to love like no tomorrow.
You have taught me to love myself because that's your last surviving vessel.
I was meant to live in this constant pain.
Otherwise I would have died the eight times that I had tried.
I tried your method of problem solving.
You do something...
Something that I never could.
You keep me alive when all I ever wanted was to be with all of you.
My body aches from the parts that you stole away.
My head to replace yours.
Shattered across infinity.
My neck to hold it up.
It beats for you.
I have died ten times over.
I am pieced back together as a rag doll is.
None of this was ever your fault though.
I didn't stop you when I needed to.
I blame myself for the deaths of ten people.
I wasn't their reason
I didn't kill them.
I just didn't...
I am alive & just barely;
my throat is closing off
with hard, precious cancer eggs
tucked safely where my tonsils
are supposed to sit.
my fingernails this lovely
shade of purple, a deeply
blueish tint influencing them
almost indigo. They tattle,
silently proclaim my complacent
malnutrition. the moons of my manicure
have sunk backwards, eve
returns to dusk, my favorite
time of day, where the quiet
begins, the candle may be lit,
& the eyes I always feel on me
are at least shadowed from my vision.
the coffee is so black
pulsing through my shrunken veins
that my tears are caffeinated.
even when I don't hold a cigarette,
I see the smoke under my breath.
my hands & feet are always cold,
my muscles tremble & I swoon
when we try to stand strong together.
there is turmoil
in the fissures of the grey matter.
well? tell me! does it really matter?
my bones ache
my face breaks
oh, this Exist Contemplate.
my government has always
been corrupt; the city walls
are finally wearing, having
borne the onslaught for decade
& decade. oh, the Burn & Blister.
I crawl to my coffin without your permission;
Where are you, my Handsome Benediction?
"You're gambling death."
The skeleton laughed.
While shuffling card decks,
the skeleton sat across from me.
I was starting to feel uncomfortable..
No. Not uncomfortable...
Maybe the right word is trapped?
How did he even get here?
"I don't really gamble."
I admitted to the bones that configured the human skeleton sitting across from me.
He sounded too sincere.
But still he was smiling.
Still he was lingering.
And as of now, I was getting a tiny bit mad.
I just wanted this thing to leave....
"You know, if you loose, you're not only loosing this game." He hissed.
Of corse with a skeletal smile
that presented teeth such as those of a crocodile.
I watched the bones of his hand point at me through the corner of my eye as he spoke and then as the hand reached for a card.
I tried to pay closer attention to the stray strings on my sleeve
But couldn't help noticing that the crevices of his bones were filled with dust.
"Any old memories you want to reminisce?"
He said mockingly.
"you know? If you must."
He began to continue,
"Why do you look so scared?"
"You're covered in enough dust to have plenty stories for us both."
"Don't you suppose?"
I say out-loud and my body language says,
"I know who I am."
"I love myself."
"I love everything about me."
"I have no flaws."
"I am beautiful."
"Everyone likes me."
"Everyone adores me."
"I adore myself."
"I proud of my accomplishments."
"You should be proud to know me, my name."
"I have no problems."
But inside, it's a different story.
"I couldn't be more insecure."
"I have no idea what I'm doing."
"I don't even know why I'm alive."
I look in the mirror and cringe at my reflection.
I can't believe I can even say such lies.
I look at that art project
That written paper
And want to rip it up and throw it away
Inside, I'm falling apart
I don't know who I am
I have problems, more than they are aware of
I hide behind the mask of fake confidence
The girl inside wants to be confident
She wants to be that way
But knows there's no way it will happen
"I don't know who I am."
"I cry myself to sleep."
I thought I could love you
The best friend that you are
I thought that I could love you
Every little thing about you
I was wrong
I thought I could love you
The way you walk and talk
I thought that I could love you
Every little flaw and mistake
I was wrong
I thought you could love me
With all my worrying and crying
I thought that you could love me
All my little flaws and mistakes
We were wrong
I thought we would last
I'm not very happy
I thought that we could last
Friends till the end
I was wrong
We fell in love with another
Not each other at all
We fell in love with another
Not that that will matter
I'm sorry that is all
It's waiting for me,
Ready to company my nervous mind again.
It's watching me,
Knowing I'll just shy away from everything.
It's pushing on me,
Telling me I'll make a fool of myself.
It's hurting me...
Anxiety is waiting for me.
this time last year was dark
there were hopes for me
i had no fear
my scars - still wounds
my heart still yearning
he said 'i love you' and the
how silly i was, i couldn't believe
i replayed it forever
i love him, you see
patience had met a boy
in my absence
and the morning sun had met her moon
a precious stone was lost
the day the grass lit up with frost
this time this year, still dark
no hopes for me
the dark i fear
my scars - now healed
but my heart is blue
he loves my friend
she loves him too
how silly i was, still holding on
gripped too tight
i am still
patience is in love
she waited long enough
the sun moved too soon and lost the reflection
of her moon
Gods Servant found the precious stone
and i am a lost soul
no one have i found
waiting for the day
i am put in the
Lies spew from your body as you pull me in tighter
So tight that I can barely breathe
I’m suffocating here in your arms
And you don’t even care to notice
Complete and total oblivion
Not the tranquil oblivion of sleep
But the threatening oblivion of homicide
Not actual death but the death of the person I want to become
You don’t seem to notice the panic formed across my face
I’m an animal trapped in headlights, paralyzed
While you’re the speeding vehicle
The car that doesn’t stop
You don’t realize as my mother that I look up to you
That you’re relationships are not just about you
The hold effect on me as well
You can’t seem to stop the fighting
You say you love him
But I think you love the rush of anger
When you’re screaming and then leaving
You’re constantly leaving me
I’m caught between the cross fires
The cussing and the pushing
You take it out on me
When I finally get up the nerve to confront you about it
You say you have no idea what I’m talking about
Did I tell you I still have the necklace you bought me?
To make me forget about the first bruise you left on my arm
As if money and diamonds mean a thing to me
I may seem like a young lady
But my insides are ripping apart
I’m still just a child
I had a dream of being a mommy
And a having a beautiful partner
Who has a dictionary of her own
And when she looks up the words:
Independent, beauty, and passion
The synonym is my name
I want so badly to be happy
But when I look at your relationship
What you call love
All I see is chaos
A fight that isn’t over until someone is hanging by a noose
And I don’t want any part of it
I hear that love is a wonderful thing
But now the word sends messages through my body and too my brain
The screams at me to run and run fast
To shut out anyone who could possibly care about me
I’m so tired of living this way
These hallways hold too many secrets
Too many hushed screams for my comfort
So I’m leaving
I’m leaving before oblivion takes over
I’m gonna tear down the walls I built
I’m gonna free fall into the unknown
I’m gonna find what love truly is
It's these small hours; these slow and tired ones,
heavy with memories,
that can weigh a man down.
I miss you
Time creeps by.
I can taste your smells.
coffee and fresh sheets.
It's these small hours,
these quiet hours.
In the light of the new morning,
He opens his eyes,
The Devil gets his warning,
And the heavens start to cry.
She utters a quick prayer
To always keep him safe
The Devil weeps in despair,
And a smile warps his face.
He was always quiet,
He was always kind,
At a young age the Devil tried to find,
But his mother’s prayer always declined.
One day she began to cough red,
The same day she breathed,
And the same breath she bled.
He clenched her on the bed,
She said her finals words and fled
The heavens began to dread,
The day the Devil would enter his head.
She looks beautiful walking down the aisle,
He greets her on the stand with a smile,
The priest begins the trial,
On Sunday the heavens sleep a while,
The Devil creeps out of denial.
She watches her son from above,
A tear rolls down her cheek,
She hears the Devil speak,
She tries to warn him,
But the heavens silence her screech.
The clock ticks,
He looks into its eyes,
His heart stops,
And the heavens start to cry.
He kisses her on the lips,
He cries his tears of wine,
The Devil feels fine,
Such an act must be sign.
He runs his fingers across the blade,
He looks into its eyes
He remembers his mother’s prayer
And his conscience begins to cry,
The tears of heaven begin to dry,
Like cancer it spreads across his mind,
While he begs the Devil to make him blind.
He looks all around,
His mind is deranged,
The Devil knew this was bound,
The heavens start to change.
He looks down at what could have been
He looks down at his biggest sin
The Devil only laughs,
While his world no longer spins
She comes home and it feels colder inside,
The man she loved has died,
And the Devil has taken his side.
She sees herself in the pool of red,
She sees it motionless on the bed,
She screams her scream of silent pain,
As the Devil slowly opens her vein
The wind is swooshing outside,
His heart is the Devil and his conscience is the Eye,
He gets up, weak with age,
The Devil cries his tears of sage.
His life is slipping away,
He goes and lies down in his grave,
He covers himself in his own pain,
The heavens begin to obey,
All in all, in the Devil’s cave.
You have made me do some things
I am not certain I'm proud of
You have made me say some things
my mouth has not even figured out yet,
Stuck in between not pronounced
"I love you's"
and should have said
"Don't hurt me's"
My heart and
drowned in alcohol
Searching for even more
regrets with every single
bit, every single kiss,
every single touch,
and I regret myself from meeting you.
You persuade my lungs to breathe for a purpose.
An instantaneous drop of perpetuation.
The thought of my eyes opening
and your smile not there to pluck hearts from my mind
puts a black cloud of deterrence over my soul.
I am yours.
You may think you know how I feel.
You may think that my love has a limit.
I am afraid.
I am afraid you are wrong.
It makes living that much harder.
To hope our script has been written together.
That I'll be there,
Waiting for you on the other side of the darkness.
I rather not look upon another persons eyes ever again,
and tell them the simple three words,
that have driven me to a chaotic perfection
because I would not be able to.
not be able to love.
As much as I love,
But there is one last whisper.
For if our script does not have us in the final act,
it will still have been.
And that is worth more than a thousand heavens.
For when my lips laid upon yours for the first time,
it was a beautiful poison that has been forever placed into my heart.
they were nothing more than momentary.
they were like the leaves that rustle by
as you walk the rocky edges of a side street's sidewalk.
they were like the car that cut you off in the middle of the city.
they were the goosebumps you got when
a random cool breeze touched the edges
of your bare arms that weren't covered
by your light blanket on a warm June night.
but, oh, we're they genuine.
their love was intense and internally satisfying for
all bystanders who were privileged with
witnessing of poetic couple.
their love ended as quickly as it began
and never again would the two be.
they'd cross paths time and time again at local cafes
and from afar they'd lock eyes in the crowded subway tunnels
but after their last lip lock,
never again did their lips meet each other's,
never again did their bodies intertwine
under sheets that almost lit up in pretty flames
due to their unusual spark.
both would never again find a
cosmic, storm-like, life-altering love
like they once created together.
they both lived separate lives and
they both died separate deaths that,
regardless of their time apart,
still silently shared an unbreakable bond,
sealed with the unforgettable memories of
the meeting of two souls connecting
in such a way
even Fate grew envious of. t
hey both quietly lived
and then quietly died,
determined to still
meet once again behind
I. I knew I am faraway from you,
It seems our love s hard to view,
My heart seems broken you need to sew,
I did many efforts to see you through.
II.This situation makes me cry,
Seems like I wanna leave and soar so high,
I wanna go beyond the earth & fly,
Go so far our hearts I'll tie.
III. I always think you found ANOTHER,
Because I knew we are far from each other,
I always imagine we were together,
And imagine that it is truly forever.
IV. YOU knew I am always so jealous,
I think badly to you with suspicious,
Sometimes it makes me feel furious,
I just want you to know That you're so precious.
V. As I am writing this I am really CRYING,
How I really wish it's me you're missing,
I am so sad I felt like you're not loving,
I did all and didn't stop trying.
VI. My dear have pity on me,
I want in sadness I'll be free,
Iwant now you'll see,
How my tears run in me.
VII. I wish you feel the same way I feel,
Please help my heart and please you heal,
Please take away my tears & love me real,
I am jus loving please help happiness in me to deal.
VIII. Until now my tears still run,
I don't know they are running with fun,
Don't let me feel that you're gone,
I wish this sadness will be done.
IX. Everything I did I do it for love,
You knew you're the most precious thing I have,
I want you to be here I prayed it to God,
And in my future make you my children's Dad.
X. Oh Please come here soon my dear,
I want to touch you and see you clear,
Just hold my hand tight I'll never fear,
To conquer the world our victory is near.
By: Earl Jane Sardua
Dedicated to: Xeeb Pov Lauj
out of the womb
like a breakdancer
lights & cigarettes,
giddily on the
bought birth control
shared among friends
pills split with a jacknife
& crystal castles
cancer of the soul
flask in her ribs
like whispers of fame
polished for the wake
croptop in the casket
Shaking, I bid my last Adieu
To the one who has haunted my dreams
For a little over a year.
I say my peace and bow sarcastically.
I recall all of the unnecessary pain you put me through
And cringe at how it could have ended.
How many times since we've met
Have I contemplated the worst
(or rather the best)
way to end?
How many times since we've met
Have I taken your abuse
With the blink of an eye?
Blind to what you were doing
Blind to your manipulative ways
And you callused words
Thick and ridged
Slamming into my ears, making me tear
And now this is my emancipation
"I am done!"
Done I say
I am free
Free from the blaze you used
To set my world on fire.
And I've always had a bucket of water,
But now I've developed the courage
To use it.
I tore out the intimate stanzas that my friends had written in my note book
I used it to clean their mess
Jealousy at it's bleakest
Excuses at their best
Angst and nerves filled my head
Most of the time i'm too scared to read what they had written
Most of the time i'm too scared to read what they had said
My notebook is hardly mine any more
Merely scrap pages for my friends thoughts
Their voices are loud and powerful on paper
But I hardly spare the time to listen
Imagery created by all means
But never correctly interpreted
I was stuck. I was stuck in every way a person can interpret that word. My body was stif and slack at the same time. Although I knew subtly where I was, I didn't know which way to walk, which way to face my body. I stood in a hallway, strings of people flowing around me like ocean currents. My head couldn't seem to comprehend what was happening. I stood motionless, the only thing I could feel was the rising panic coursing through my veins. I couldn't hear and my vision became blurry and everything moved slow. I could hear my heart, pounding slow and slower. I realized I had exhaled completely and tried to take a breath in, an choked. I couldn't breathe. And that's when I panicked. I felt you, I felt you next to me and in that moment you meant safety. So I tried to turn to you and you must've understood because the pain was reflected back onto your face. I was choking and my lungs wouldn't open, I needed to cry and I needed to scream but I couldn't move and everything was slowly closing in. Out of the suffocating silence I could vaguely hear my name being called, over and over. Each time increasing in volume and anxiety. Suddenly the voice had hands and they were clasped around my shoulders squeezing me. I stared blindly forward, mouth slightly open, trying to find words in the abyss of my brain and willing myself to take a breath. The only thing I could see were two blue gray eyes. They were wide and sincere. I blinked and slowly opened my eyes, I thought that if I just closed my eyes again I might find some relief. The only thing that kept me here, that kept me from crashing into the soft white void that threatened to collapse around me were those two beautiful, beautiful eyes. And all of a sudden I gasped, "I can't breathe." The eyes softened for a split second of relief and hardened into a determined stare. With one magnificent crash everything that I knew and every usual human sense, plus a few, returned to me. I could feel my own weight again, and man did I feel heavy. I knew I couldn't breathe and that I was moving very fast. I could feel rough hands on my body, one on my shoulder and one on my waist, red bricks were blurred to my left and suddenly I was sitting on the floor, cross legged, confused on how I had gotten there, facing the two blue eyes. Nothing felt right, but I could breathe again, I could hear his voice and I could hear mine, I understood what I was saying and what he was saying and he was telling me he loved me and that it would be okay and please bel, please, please, please open your mouth and take another breath. He was holding my hand so tight, and brushing hair off my face and I could barely get air to my lungs but I was still breathing and he was here, right here in front of me and I was somehow still alive.
Homeless in Dreams!
Blanket crumpled on the deck.
A mouldy mound of grey.
Tin discarded empty.
Disregarded on the floor.
The hollow echo of the subway.
Thunder crashes rhythmically overhead.
A hundred commuters tear down the stairs.
From train where he laid his head.
And he lies.
Disregarded as the empty can.
No body cares.
As no one cares for him.
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Bittersweet lime-flavoured love
An apparition, a ghost, a face I think of
A mere shadow without definition or name
A hopefulness for the fulfilment of why I came.
Stretching into the ghetto of my mind
Is a body, a shape, a stencil of who may be mine
Reaching against the wicked hands of time
Yet never grasping; a drop of sugar, a cup of lime
Down on my knees with my hands clasped tight in prayer
And my will alone shakes the foundation, yet no one appears
Errant tendrils of loneliness grip at my rotting soul and heart
And the rejection, and the hurt, and the hope tears me apart.
I am now a sinister, cynical shell of who I used to be
And I plead, I beg the monotony to set me free
As I am suffocating on the slimmest sliver of a wish
My head turned upwards, lips waiting for a kiss.
Whether love, or like, or grudging intimacy
So be it, for I need it, and whatever else it may be
Thus, I will wait by the water's edge where the waves are violent
I'll wait at the volcano's peak, before it erupts, when all is quiet.
I'll hang to a fraying rope placed miles above solid ground
I'll stand at the edge of a tall building and dizzy myself looking down
Until someone, or something, arrives from somewhere to extend my time
Until the taste finally fades: a drop of the sweetest sugar, a cup of bitter lime.
I saw the good in you and that made me happy
I saw a light that ignites when I see you
I saw the excitement in your face when I talk to you
I saw that smile that hides all of your sorrow
And now that I'm closer
I feel your pain
Now that that I'm here
I feel it in my vanes
I hate seeing you sad
So please try to understand
I do this because I care
Not because I'm mad
You have opened up this door that I haven't seen before
is it normal that I wana know more
That side is attracting me to come
Hold me tight cuz I don't wana go there
I'm feeling scared that's it's pulling me there
I won't do that cuz I know who I am
And to me that side is just a passing spam
Hopefully that door will close soon
And I'll be free
So go to hell dark side I'm not coming today
Cuz I'm better then this so bye bye forever
Photographs by Avedon
This was written in a friend's home in the Berkshire Mountains, on a Saturday morning, a few years ago. Up early, I went exploring their bookshelves and found a book of Richard Avedon's photographs of average Americans out west. Google "richard avedon photos of the american west" - then read the poem. It is always chilly there, even in the summer sun. This and other obscure references are detailed in the notes.
Join my warmth and
as the nine o'clock sun,
a 45 degree steeplechase
but still not
of the prior eve,
that hides in,
deep wooded hillocks
Join my warmth
and my chill!
head kicked awake,
entranced and revolted,
excited and repelled,
emotive, yet, stilled.
For oh so casually,
this heroic city dweller,
brave and fearless
retrieves a book,
to find a new route
thru time and space
to the center of his brain.
Photographs by Avedon,
of my fellow Americans,
the Have Nots,
These uncommon people
with whom I share
these drifters, the carneys,
the would-have-been cowboys,
busted blackjack dealers,
rattlesnake gut n' skinners,
coal and copper miners,
the hay truck drivers,
dirt so deep in
their pores ingrained,
colors and bloodies their souls,
browns their veins,
are the ones that
go off first to
in my name.
In this far corner of our
shared contiguous space
United States of America,
top of the line here
secretaries and maybe even,
But their eyes,
oh their eyes!
Words I do not own
to fair share with you,
the clarifying gaze
of measured dignity and
that marks and unites
these disparate and dispirited
vessels of humankind.
the noon suns finally,
raises my body temperature
browns my surface...
Yet, nothing eradicates
this god damn chill
in my soul
or calms my consternation,
as black and white
my comfortable existence,
as I ponder
All photographs are accurate but none tell the truth
The Evil Son at Passover
asks ever so sly,
what have they to do with me?
It is the Sabbath.
We luxuriate in our rest.
Rest is the greatest luxury
What is this Sabbath?
Heschel's cathedral -
in space and time,
and one enters
when and where
Do my distant,
(both in space and time)
share my Sabbath?
Are they allowed
or is it endless exertion,
severity and deprivation,
all and every day
of their lives?
Constant risk every day.
Who cannot fail to see the
precipitousness of life
edged in the lines of their
hearts and minds?
Day to day hardens them
and teaches the
Is the prudence of
their morning bitter pill
they must swallow
to carry on?
Among the resolutions
to claim a
life fulfilled is this:
How to end this poem,
close this can of worms,
accidentally kicked open.
Will sunset end these
of which you have
more personal variations?
(what about the ...)
Perennials flower everywhere,
along the Tigris,
even in Kabul and Somalia,
along the highways
to the mecca of
Perennials flower everywhere.
In warmth and cool,
in time and space,
they flower in my heart and
my brain and in
my prayerful tears.
flowing down my cheeks,
as I lay me down to sleep,
to dream these of
even celebrated tween
holy and common,
light and dark,
the six weekdays
between sacred and secular
between me and
my American Brothers
of the American West.
just one thing
to be true:
The Sabbath Cathedral is
open to all,
you choose to
I await you,
my American cousins,
with wine and bread
holy of holiest words
of comfort and sooth.
I will wash your feet and
lay you down to
in my heart.
we will be joined,
in warmth and chill.
August 29, 2010
* "In The American West" by
** many of the phrases in this stanza were taken from an article "The Few, The Proud, The Chosen" in Commentary, September 2010
^ Abraham Joshua Heschel, a modern Jewish Philosopher. Elegant, passionate, and filled with the love of God's creation, Abraham Joshua Heschel's The Sabbath has been hailed as a classic of Jewish spirituality ever since its original publication-and has been read by thousands of people seeking meaning in modern life. In this brief yet profound meditation on the meaning of the Seventh Day, Heschel introduced the idea of an "architecture of holiness" that appears not in space but in time Judaism, he argues, is a religion of time: it finds meaning not in space and the material things that fill it but in time and the eternity that imbues it, so that "the Sabbaths are our great cathedrals."
^^ Havdalah is the ceremony to celebrate the end of the Sabbath, and realize the distinctions between the holy day and the workweek, the day and the night, light and day...
Known for original, and I won’t replicate them.
Today’s sun is gone, still got the moon.
But why so soon? I’m tired of this tune.
My heart’s been broke, too many, too much.
Pain finally made me numb..or perhaps I’m just at peace..
Turn off the clock, turn on my watch..
Let me escape with only some scotch
Dim the lights, only a notch..
Don’t feel a thing, not even a sting
What will this bring? A heart break till spring..
Finally went numb..or perhaps I’m just at peace
Sometimes you strike me as a
Somewhat crumpled up
Stumbling on and swaying-
A product of all those
And of all those sleepless nights
Preparing for them
Unsure how to open and close
Your mouth properly.
And sometimes you strike me as alive.
Like you wanted it this way.
You trained your body to be
To allow your spirit
More room to
Dance with the beams of light
That lap at your heels
Cheap dirty playground from youth.
don't mean maybe
here i come
slap the baby
hear me screaming
now i'm breathing
the proud parents
it is chilly
named me mike
instead of billy
before you know it
kind of shy
don't you blow it
because of dad
friends i had
plus the weather
all i had
took no time
skin to leather
from the color
here's the years
full time friends
part time lovers
a few times
things got drastic
drank to much
worked on fattening
mom and dad
were not laughing
as they begged
on their knees
find a job
so you can leave
i joined in
with no war
not too scary
found a girl
we got married
had some kids
now it's scary
lost my job
lost my dime
found a job
things are fine
the prime of life
with the kids
still at home
things are moving
from the left
to the right
that's the story
of my life
papa remember when you used to spin stories out of gold thread
the thread that came from your teeth
it wove me a blanket so i could fall soundly asleep
papa remember when late on a summer night
we danced to music that was alive and wafted in the warm breeze like night blooming jasmine
sweet, and crawling up your nose and infecting your head
papa remember when you said you’d call
that was last year
and that same song came back on and I was surprised to find tears sneaking up
burning canals into my cheeks
because you told me goodnight
and never said good morning again
because you left in my god damned
don’t you just hate it
when someone repeats your…
because THEY failed to read
the infinity minus one
then all the souls
who read that cherished verse
will not know YOU
had such a colossal corner
on the market of “truth”
all the devotees
will follow the newer sages
(FURTHER down the pages)
without regard for
the accumulated wisdom
you were so willing to share
YOUR avatar got the
eternal divine credit)
don’t you just hate it?
On January 1, 2013, I decided that I was actually going to try something that I found on pintrest. The instructions were simple. You start off the year with an empty jar, and when something good happens, you write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the jar. Then, on New Year's Eve you open the jar and read about all of the good things that happened in 2013.
My jar is pretty filled up, even though this year hasn't been the best. Most of what I wrote to myself was clichè "never give up" crap. Just because I thought I would feel more hopeless in January than I did in April. But then summer flew by, and as the new school year approached, I thought that I wouldn't need those words anymore. I had found some people that made me really happy, and I thought that the search for inner peace, and a place to belong was over. But... somehow I let everything fall apart, and now things are worse than they have ever been.
I broke the pintrest rules. Today I got desperate enough to open the jar for reassurance that things can be okay. that things do change. Who knows? Today is December 3, 2013, and I'm extremely lost, but maybe I can find myself again before The New Year. I still have time left. This year doesn't have to end in flames.
Think of me not as some maritime devotion,
born upon the salt, suspended in the air,
our friendship but a spit of land, a temporal
bank set upon its tidal death through erosion.
Tarry not on your scattered desk of grey matter.
The folded notes and pencil shavings you horde,
in the sorry hope they’ll fall to a collage of memoirs
and make sense of all this, their endless chatter.
They talk in circles, double-dealing confidants,
so free of tongue, yet so confined in spirit.
In haste they claim unto you their longing
for the fame, the glamour of the on-screen debutants.
Still stubbornly, you cling to those memories anew.
A memory of a memory, a doctored past is
a game of whispers, to colour in the grey,
to fill beauty in the present, to set ourselves askew.
So you rest with sad grace, thinking on what’s gone.
You make a bed and twist in the sheets of old deceptions,
your pillow case of cigarette ash, wasted petals;
instead, old friend, here are my words to lay upon.
So think of me not as some wasted emotion,
born upon the haze, a clinch of jutting bones,
our friendship but a stretch of truth, a temporal
face set to fade, in all of life’s commotion.
Night, the oldest of mysteries
settles, spreading like hunger.
A pall of mist
shrouding over the world.
Siren sounds and firefighters,
drunken brawls, and
Eyes of wonder asleep,
emerging out of
the network of shadows
Stray nuggets of light
also reach the eyes shut
Furtive shadows of passion,
elsewhere. Muffled joys;
Shades of bottle-grey.
faint. Raspy owl-calls,
In the deep, secret
rites of initiation.
Somewhere in the far
the stars and
the broken moon peep in.
Old song on a highway truck.
Courtyards in the distance,
little lamps adorning the hills.
Thumping away, the waning
music of the discotheque.
Still developing this piece, more abstractions needed...
Poetry died a gut-shot coyote
Chewing at its own entrails
Which is to say, it starved
At an academic outhouse, where
Deceased professors presented each other awards
For most original use of masturbation and italics
A snuffed torch, passed to vanilla infants
Who write in text-speak and snores
About high school vampires winking at werewolves
A tragedy for the ages
A most unfortunate eulogy
That ran between two late night infomercials
Sent from my iPad
I'm hoping you have no doubts I'm writing this to and about you. : )
Thank you for finally letting me know you know I'm alive.
Just thinking about talking to you makes the butterflies go crazy.
My heart beats then skips a beat when I see you around town and I
swear it's strictly by accident. I'm not actively following you around.
I haven't been to sleep because I'm up thinking about you
but not in the sick and twisted Bardo way of stalking then killing.
I haven't been searching for your address or where you hang
out like that anonymous lunatic posting that on Craigslist forum.
I still want your phone number but only if you want to give it.
You asked the impossible melting snow against weatherman's
predictions and you got this hold over me like I never felt before.
Are you a keeper of unworldly secrets of magic or someone who is
quite lovely and is just plain an extraordinarily special and gifted lady?
I'd like to discover that for myself if you would agree to meet me at
Little Bohemia it's aka Lil Bo's by us locals to hear a Jazz band.
It's a public place and I heard it through the grapevine you popped
in a few times but I can't say that's true, I wasn't there and it's hear say.
Person said you entered alone but didn't sing and it looked like
you were having a good time being a chatty patty and hearing the band.
The more I get to know about you lady the more I want to discover.
You got a wish and mine is not as impossible as yours I'm hoping.
I want in my life a lady like you who oozes confidence when she enters
a room and when she's being chatted up by complete strangers.
I will be in the parking lot watching the door and enter if you enter.
Hoping to see you Friday night and hoping to see that gorgeous smile.
Hoping you agree to meet me but if not I will keep on hoping for that.
Can't write poetry well,
haven't ever given it much thought,
really haven't been able to figure out my voice in it,
i guess it doesn't have to be for me,
still it irks me,
I'll still give it a shot,
Like I do with many hobbies in my life,
obviously I should settle on one,
very certain that I'm stretching myself too thin,
everyone has their strong points,
You are definitely mine,
often I find myself laughing to myself,
utterly aware of how lucky I am,
To have someone like you,
one who I can be myself with,
one that is truly a dingus (which is a-okay).
Our minds are what create our stress, our doubt, our fear, our anxiety, our questions. More times than I can count have I wished for silence within just so I can see & hear clearly without any preconceived notions. I want to live my life through feeling! I don't want logic or "morals" to control my way of living... I want to act based on feelings, not based on what I think or what others think. I want my heart & my emotions to drive this soul of mine. Not many people do, which is why I know certain people were placed in my life. I'm sorry if at times my cluttered mind gets the best of me & creates chaos, but I swear it's only bc this fist of blood that pounds in my chest is begging to take over.
Sweet songstress of turmoil
You grabbed ahold
Of my soul
Long long ago
And your grip keeps tightening
The moon won't hide us
The stars won't save me
It's beautiful and frightening
black birds circling
you'll be dead by night
but you close in
showered by dim light
the way you sway
I'm willing prey
I'll die a thousand
you chill me to the bone
more so than I've ever known
for that slow
at your mercy
of the fall
at your claws
My heart is cold. It had been previously overheated, by emotions that my mind took in like sweet ecstasy only to spit these emotions out like sour milk. My body learned to stare at the milk carton, and no longer have the urge to drink the liquid that is perfectly fine. Expiration date: five weeks from now. But no, ever since I drank that sour glass, I can’t be emotional anymore. I want to sympathize and empathize, but only with you. Because here, empathy could be easy and sympathy would be natural. But, all I want to feel is you. I want to feel the shape of your thoughts. I want to be constricted to you and only you. You’re the only milk I’ll ever drink. You’re today, tomorrow, and yesterday. You’ve told me that your father is an alcoholic. He would get drunk off wine, and you called him a “pussy”. You always stare into my eyes before we conform to each other’s bodies and say “Why are you always so sad”. My response is never fulfilling, and I’m sure you want to know about me, but I’m not ready to tell me story, so tell me yours. Your father is an addict. He had a difficult childhood and grew up to be a man, both hated and praised. Your mother had breast cancer and back surgery, but why? Maybe I don’t even need to know about your parents, what about you? You stare into my pupils and question my ever-present sorrow, so, may I question yours? Why do you shut off your emotions, the same way I do. Why do you remain unaffected by the pain of others? I have tasted the sour milk on my tongue, and I vow to never taste it again. But, when our lips touch, I taste honey and I smell lilac, and I feel home. So tell me, what your story is, please… We feed off each other’s agony and cry in our beds at night, we meet up at midnight so that we don’t feel alone, we rest in the pain that makes us bitter and unkind. I need to know your story, because although I have seen bits and pieces of an overcomplicated puzzle, I need to see the whole picture, and you need to see mine. Please, you’re all I have. Let me taste honey and smell lilac and feel at home, because with you, my heart is warm,
That nefarious disorder that usurps my sleep every night holds the anchors above my head
And once the looming presence creates an unyielding uncomfortable feeling within me-
The anchors are dropped at once as I clutch my heart and watch my life flash by in intense but short clips reflecting off of my irises
Drowning in a waking nightmare consisting of life-altering decisions yet to be made and a ubiquitous, haunting past that never fails to ascertain me, despite the innumerable heat runs I've taken to escape it's chokehold
Wistful versus Wishful thinking keeps an insomniac busy at night- contemplating the universe's unhealthy obsession with showering sullen loads upon my already feeble stature and yearning for a change to form like how the leaves just fled the trees they were accustomed to for so long
Ruminative habits that not even the toughest of diamonds could scratch to erase them from my routine nightly thinking
But I am constantly torn between resenting every constant and vowel meant for you and all of my feckless attempts at achieving perfection
And optimistically hoping for a banishment from all negativity, and acceptance of the elation spreading faster through the airwaves of people open to recognition and reversal
But my anchors are breaking through the floor boards as my weary but restless eyes scan the page for errors and I am cautious in giving them a tug out of fear of a perpetual fall that insists on torturing me through an insomnia-flavored death-to-be
What is to ensue after countless hours of wistful and wishful thinking?
Am I to write until the moisture leaves my fingertips and the blood rushes to my head because my amygdala is housing all of my aggressions and fears, close to explosions upon anything in my vicinity?
Or am I to close my eyes and daydream of better, happier times to arrive at my front doorstep sometime in the near future?
But my overactive thoughts stimulate several situations that could play out, and the ones I decide on making permanent effects in the future are the ones that end with me crying and hopeless
Maybe the life of an insomniac is even worse than people think- it is not the fact that we do not sleep that unnerves us, it is the fact that when we do not sleep, we overthink, and when we overthink, we depress ourselves with all of the outcomes and possibilities that can arise from the most trivial decisions to the most climactic ones
My anchors act as my comforter and hold me tight during my REM sleep when the vivid and electrifying dreams and nightmares play simultaneously like a horror film I am entrapped in
I hone in on the conflict and I am taken away in shackles into dreamland, a world worse than reality
And I cannot lucid dream, so my control, my grip on the direction of the thoughts slips away and the fabrication of my unconscious takes over until I wake up every hour on the hour breathless and sweating
I awake at all the wrong times, on all wrong sides of the bed
And falling back asleep is a difficult task to carry out each time, because of the lack of melatonin that seemed to be crossed of the checklist of necessities of being born
And so the cycle ensues for the next 5 hours
And I continue this routine day in, and day out
This is the life of an Insomniac.
Were I real, I would paint the sky.
Were I alive, I would chase the stars.
Were I plastic, I would never die.
Were I honest, I would be the King of Mars.
But I'm not these, nor am I yours,
for the die had been cast far before
I looked deep into your eyes, entranced,
and unable to perceive any but you.
Time froze for an eternal moment,
then I blinked, causing the world to
return around me.
Ruination was the path before me,
disguised as promising hope and
potential happiness, so in disregard
I continued forward, blind.
My heart ran ahead, like an excited
child, letting go of my hand, it
raced forward towards wonder
but instead found a broken clock.
It's face cracked and missing glass,
it's arms bent and twisted into mockery,
it's frame warped and weathered,
it's intentions dead and silent.
I lift it up and gaze solemnly,
my reflection broken up by the cracks,
and anger burns through me, my
reflex to throw it away.
But the beauty of it's brokenness
drives human nature home and
I can't release it from my hands
out of violence.
I replace it on the ground for another
to find, for another to hold for a moment,
hoping that soul can maintain it,
can bring some life back to it.
So I fade away into mist and memory,
never suitable and again less than enough,
praying that my heart will hold my hand,
and only leave to be held by an understanding soul.
It's time to shake our money makers
and see if we find any takers
i'm telling you, we're real heartbreakers
we were born to be ass shakers
don't look past my body and face
that would be a total waste
we really know a woman's place
just another wasted case
don't talk to us about intellect
that's a concept that we reject
we let our looks and sensuality reflect
our total mindless neglect
This block that’s been haunting me
I finally know what it is
It’s not that my thoughts have ever ceased to exist
(no matter how hard I wish)
Has never been poetic.
My 4 shots of honesty
Are tucked under unclean bed-sheets
Because I haven’t found a soul
With good enough reason to trust
I work with formulated brushstrokes
My polished softer madness
Because I’ve been told that
This much eye contact makes you
I say things
that you didn't
want to (or know how)
Enough for you to swallow
So shove yours down my throat
with a gleam in your eye
like you actually think
you’ve solved my mystery
have covered up
every last shadow
every vicious glimmer
of your fingerprints
marring the fabric
of my skin
my natural form
is your sin
I shudder to think
That I’m waiting
For my censored text to be read
Waiting for repercussions
Of wounds that I’ve already bled
Is that I blurred through the boundaries
Between memories and lies
That I often can’t remember
What I made up and why
there was so much to
with false nostalgia
and there’s no logic behind that
no reason to
forget how to feel
to go three days
with my eyes glazed
until I can grasp on
to what's real
a patched up framework of sane
and I want to see blood
to feel purpose for pain
Every time my tremors
Shake in new directions
I want to cry because
That’s just one step further away
Was just imagination
until it was dysfunction
and I set fire to my lungs
Because no matter what
I was never good enough
I choke on my breath
And the burn of swallowed blood
out of place
like a breeze to the bone
Dripping past the place that
Your name once called home
I still visit
The grave of a legend
In my body
So heavy with the weight
Of lives I never lived
It was never like
The words I so hopefully drowned in
The promises that
my fears were unfounded
That no one could really
Not like this
Being left to remember your kiss
Nail marks in the palms of clenched fists
Not like fading in and out of dreams
Which reality is this?
Untangling from cold sweats
With the ringing in my ears
Reminding me ruthlessly
That god damnit I’m still here
And you’re gone
I hate that “I miss you”
Is mistaken for cliché
But it’s my truth
It’s my indescribable
My around every corner
Staring me right in the face
Over and over
Your absence impacts like a train
dripping in honey sweet
we were my first us
it's hard to find salvation
foundation gives up
Is sharp breaths
It tastes like
Vomit coming out my nose
Splashing against my skin
It burns a little like
Coming up my throat
And a whole lot less
Than the loneliness
That vacant isolation
That booms so stubborn
Trying to heal
Reminding me that
Summer by summer
I become something
That I wont
be willing to save.
At this point
I'm not sure what I crave.
it feels like thunder
on the horizon
of my intangible
you are so much more
than a metaphor
for how perspective
but my story
was never about you
birthed from ashes
your favourite taboo
Better than me
Is that what you are?
Better than me,
Is what you should be.
Your knees wobble, it’s all I see.
Your voice quivers, giving me shivers.
As I cringe,
I need you to be, better then me.
My walls are crumbled
As your words grow jumbled,
I stand there with you,
In front of the crowd.
Seems so loud
As you face
My fear with grace.
WE are the dear
Caught in a headlight,
I feel the cold
Of the lonesome night.
I feel the sweat drip
Down my face,
I feel a disgrace
As I quicken my pace.
But i need you to see
You are better than me.
This is inspired by the bravery that it takes to stand infront of a crowd and show something you have created. It highlights that public speaking, at least infront of highschoolers, is a big fear and weakness of mine. It also highlights the empathy and solidarity I feel with people who feel the same way as I do when they stand up there, next to that microphone.
The reason I fell so hard
Was because I thought
That you were a guy
Not a girl spinning me
Into her web of lies
You seemed genuine
And I fell for you
But now your words
Have no meaning
wrote this months ago. seems relevant still.
I own an ugly sweater
It has tatters and tears
And holes everywhere
From the missing tag
That’s been savagely clawed and cut out
Why companies make them so scratchy
I have yet to find out.
Cheese grader sized holes
From where hungry moths attacked
For their personal enjoyment
Or a midnight snack.
A perfectly good sweater
And being prone to sharp corners
Don’t pair well together
Just ask my unraveling thread
That’s been caught onto edges
And hideously snagged.
It’s humorously sad
Go ahead, you can laugh
Your sweater is next
The moths are coming
I promise you that.
The bottom frays like a hippy
I would say it looks cool
But that style died in the seventies
Just wait, that that trend will recycle
I’m not in denial.
The fabric and material
What’s left of it
Is a delicate cashmere…
Alright fine, it’s a scratchy wool
Ancient, archaic, and feels like Velcro.
Sometimes leaves cling
So I look like a tree
The optimistic side of me
Just says nature loves me.
But I could do without the bees
Ohh so many stings…
The insides are bumpy
From being cleaned on high heat
Now my sweater suffers from dwarfism
It’s challenged vertically.
The wrists are stretched out
From being rolled up and down
Permanently smells like dirt or meat
Depending on my activity
Or what I had to eat.
Blackened mascara speckles the sleeve
From dramatic tears
Or being too lazy to grab a tissue
As if my sweater doesn’t have enough issues
I drag in my problems
My pendulum swinging emotions
If my sweater were human
I swear, it would leave me.
It’s been thrown on the floor
Tossed in the back of my car
Tied around my waist
And forgotten in stores
I always say sorry
I hope it forgives me.
From the sleeves that cradles sneezes
Hugs are completed
Sharing germs or sharing love
All becomes one experience.
The front like a canvas
A Jackson Pollock painting
Ubiquitous splatters of coffee stains.
Missing sips that dripped off my lips
From being scolding hot
Or scare concentration
But nine times out of ten
It’s my deficient attention.
Looking like it’s been through hell
And no denying it has.
Sure, I could donate this human sized rag
But they wouldn’t know the story behind
Each stain and frayed thread.
They would see the sweater as just ugly
Dismiss there was even a journey
They wouldn’t ask
The why’s or how’s it came to be.
This sweater is not just fabric
It’s a memory
An extension of me.
I should get this dry-cleaned
But I love it.
Lovers,of God's world, I say to you.
For hurt doesn't come to you blindly to be hurt.
Love your enemies, do good by loving them.
Love those that blast you for security.
When there's really no need.
Because of being hurt by insecurity.
Hunger for wisdom to stand strong.
When you're the only one right.
And hosts of others are completely wrong.
Love attitudes, comes from knowledge.
And who know you better?
Laugh at your pain, instead of cry.
When you do you realize later you're wearing a smile.
Rejoice in joy, your life will shines more when it does come.
Happy is anyone that has someone.
Not that being lonely doesn't make you that way.
Remember and admit that love is a dangerous weapon
Against those that drive themselves to be evil.
Humble yourself in God's teaching.
His words that's written has a powerful meaning.
Find nothing that He hadn't predicted to be false.
Cause in reality they have appeared.
God gives it.
Do good and your reward shall be great?
Even among the unthankful.
Remember God does this.
The measure of your graciousness will determine your heart.
When we must answer to the Lord.
i think my brain is faulty
dark thoughts swirl through my mind
like a demon, possessed
i want to hurt myself
scratch the thoughts from my skin
but they return on dark nights
sometimes when i least expect them
come crawling back
like a bad smell
i try to release the thoughts
through my finger tips
onto blank pages with biro
but they are lodged inside
sometimes tears flow
and its like i can breath again
but then the emptiness follows
stuck in my throat
like an incurable illness
please make them go away
i beg you
What magic is this?
Hath done this!
Whose corpse is this?
He lives ! He lives-
Whose silver tongue
Bewitched the fools
For the armor
Of brave Achilles,
On Mount Olympus.
The armor is mine
By right of conquest-
Was it not I
That saved the ships
Of Greece from hordes
Of Hector's men
The wine besotted
Fools of sentries?
From Athena's curse
Now to find not
Upon my blade
But that of cattle.
Dishonored I be,
Fair sword, fail not.
Ajax and Odysseus both claimed the armor of Achilles after he was slain by Paris.Odysseus oratory surpassed the simple speech of Ajax and Odysseus took the armor.Enraged, Ajax cursed the gods , causing Athena to place a curse on him.Ajax, under the curse went mad, killing cattle thinking they were Odysseus and his men.When Ajax recovered from the curse he saw what he had done, and dishonored, committed suicide by falling on his own sword
as fast as you can.
Greed is closing in.
Dragging you down the
there is no vacancy here.
No quarter will be given to your kind.
forgotten your senses,
There is a special place in this world
for people like you.
Counting coins until
the gold becomes flesh.
Trading life for life.
This system has broken you.
The beast is off the chain,
attacking at random.
Showing no remorse for it's actions.
Why should it?
It has done nothing wrong.
You fed the beast,
gave it a home.
Now it is time to pay the piper,
You have woven this tale,
and you alone must draft it's ending.
It is coming undone.
It was foolish to think there would be no repercussions.
nothing can save you.
It is simple really.
The ending will show your true nature.
Make you want to believe again,
that this is a worthwhile cause.
Try to escape from Neverland.
as fast as you can.
Razor blade wishes,
Torn from cracked lips.
A self-destructive elegy,
Whimpered with resignation.
Cries for redemption,
Fall silent when they matter most.
All smiles and jokes,
When everyone can hear.
There is darkness within,
And my Sentinel is gone.
Hope bleeds from my heart,
as I walk my life alone.
© 1-07-04 John Stevens
He waits at the door of my heart this hour
Knocking so gently for me.
To answer the call, through His power
To be all I can be.
The choice is mine to make this hour.
To accept or reject His love.
The choice I make for eternity
Will decide my life for above.
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
Will I invite Him in only on Sunday
And set Him close to the door?
Then invite Him out when church is over
When no one's looking any more?
Will I when Monday morning comes
Forget the lessons He taught?
Of love, forgiveness, grace and more
By His blood on the Cross He bought.
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
Will I do the right and shun the wrong
In the work that I perform?
Not leave my faith on a hook by the door
Until the next Sunday morn.
Will I park Him outside some of the doors
Of my favorite places to be?
And pretend it is ok to do the things,
I'm ashamed for Jesus to see?
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
The lessons I have learned today
Must not be shelved tomorrow.
For I've been set free to do His will
In all happiness and sorrow.
He cleansed my heart- all the rooms.
And the closets so dark today.
His love shone 'round in all the corners
The gloom and darkness went away
(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will I open my heart today
I will open the door, invite Him in.
I will give Him the key to my heart's door
I will give Him control of all my life.
I will love Him forever and more.
I will listen to His every whisper.
I will do His thoughts for me.
I will praise His Holy name this hour.
I will shine His light for others to see.
(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will I open my heart today
When my heart is breaking from the pain
Of things in my life I start.
He is there the moment I breathe His name
He mends my broken heart.
I have been forgiven by His blood
My sin on the cross He bore.
I have been forgiven, cleansed by His blood
I bare the guilt no more.
I have been forgiven..
Praise His Holy Name.
I am forgiven.........
Thank you Jesus, today.
He waits at the door Calling for you
To open your heart To let Him in.
What will you do? What will you say?
What a wondrously distraught thing Life is
To pull lives together
And to tear them apart
But Death is the great equalizer of all things
For it cares not for beauty, race, wealth, or even love
It does not lie to us
Only whispering the honest truths
And tonight, it whispered to me
Death whispered to me that it wished to take my Siren from me
To leave me alone at sea, so close to my destination
Oh the way she smiled such a sad, but knowing smile
She knew that it was only a matter of time
And I, so arrogant to that one, blunt truth
He made no apologies, he felt nothing for the shattering of my world
Death only shook its hooded head, blaming Life for my false hope
So she left
Not for a new Sailor, or the murky depths of anchored sea bottoms
But with Death, to the Inky Black
Shocked, filled with an unwanted rage and feeling of helplessness
I followed after to her
I slowly drifted further into the sea
Letting the waves blanket me to the Forever Sleep
But she pleaded with Death for just a simple moment
She caressed my body, and I struggled
She carried me to shore and showed me all the wonderful things that Death couldn't take
The joke of a friend, the leaves in Autumn, the paintings on the walls
In her death throws, she gave me reasons to live
She sang purpose into my heart
And though her song was not long
It was meaningful and it was beautiful and mostly
It was mine
Goodbye, my Siren
I will always be your sailor
Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.
Awake! arise! the athlete’s arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.