it is ALL a game of LIFE

LIFE
Whatever you feel or Anything that has happened to you. So, how is your LIFE?
  Mar 30
Haley Dalton
Haley Dalton
Mar 30      Mar 30

Tears fill her eyes
She is doing everything to deny
What she really feels inside,
She holds in those words
And let him say meaningless things
Mis-well  be stabbing her with swords,
All this time
She has been trying to move on but
The love she had is hard to find,
She hids her feelings so well
And it's starting to kill her
If no one could tell,
She tells the people she trust
But no one really listens
"This isn't a lust! " ,
No one cares at all
So she stays up all night
Ready to fall,
Why can't she disappear?
No one loves her
Why is she even here?
She doesn't fit in
She gets that
But is that really a sin,
She doesn't want to be one of you
She knows she is an outcast
But she doesn't know What to do,
She lays in bed all night
Wide awake
Nothing Could go right,
The tears fall
She is ready to too
But here she is standing tall.

Please get this around
  Feb 8
Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Feb 8      Feb 9

“Where did you get those marks on your arm?”
Instincts pulled the fabric down over the evidence.
I thought of giving my normal excuse:
My cat scratched the hell out of me.
Most people didn’t know that I didn’t even have a cat.
But they never questioned the lie.

I didn’t answer the girl’s question right away
And the silence that filled the space between us
Reminded me of when a stranger enters the elevator;
Neither of us talked or looked at each other.

I thought of telling the curious girl about my teenage years
And how it seemed a dark cloud seemed to hover about me;
Reigning over my head and sliding beneath my feet
Like a magic carpet, taking me to places I didn’t enjoy going.

I could have told her that often times I felt
That terrible cloud becoming stronger, overwhelming me
Like turning on a faucet, warm water covering the bottom
Of the bathtub, inch by inch, creeping over the surface like the tide drowns the sand.
I could feel it like that eerie feeling that comes
Before a big thunderstorm, starting near my feet and seeming to
Crawl up my legs as I tried to push it down and away.
But pushing it was like pushing a cloud of smoke, it swirled
To other parts of my body but still it lingered around.


I didn’t tell the girl that while growing up,
When it rained, it poured:
One thing went wrong and five others went wrong,
Like a design of dominoes. One tips over, and soon
You’re left with too big of a mess to handle.

I thought about telling the girl that I often
Laid in bed at night, a staring contest with the ceililng
As I imagined myself floating around the high walls of the church
Where my funeral shouldn’t have even been held
Because of all the sins I’d dreamt of committing.
Suicide is considered a sin.

I pictured my mother crying, my brother trying to
Keep his composure; my friends who’d dressed in black and sat
In the church pews, keeping hold of the secret they’d refused to do anything about.
I imagined a lot of hugging and tears, but mostly I heard lies
That they’d tell about me:
“She had so much going for her.”
“It’s really too bad.”
“What a beautiful girl she was.”

I saw myself lying inside the casket, one half of the tube open,
Revealing my arms crossed in front of me,
My fingers laced in between the spaces of each other
As if I were praying much too late.

After discovering the scars upon my wrists,
I would be clothed in long sleeves to hide what everyone
Had been pretending not to see.
I didn’t tell the girl that I’d already seen my funeral.

She continued looking at me, waiting for the answer
To the question I’d hoped would never be asked.

I thought about telling her how I kept a thin, silver
Razor blade hidden inside my purse so when that dark
Cloud of smoke threatened, I could slice my way through.
I didn’t tell her that there was a time when I depended
On such a small, dangerous object. And I didn’t tell her that
I often grasped the metal like a lifejacket to keep me afloat
Amongst the raging waters that wanted to drown me.

I wanted to tell her that late at night after I was sure the house
Was asleep, I cried huge, heaving, silent sobs.
My pillow caught my tears and the blanket served as a Kleenex.
It was all I could do to hold back the truth of telling her that
I grabbed my life preserver many times and would drag the blade
Across my flesh, creating a ripple of red ink over my pale, white wrist;
A tear in the canvas of my body.

I thought about telling her that many nights
I drank too much alcohol and digested too many pills
And cut too deep into a tunnel so far that I couldn’t see the light at the other end
And how I tried to climb to the top of the hole where I felt stuck
Only for it to feel like someone stepped on my fingers,
The pain making me let go and fall again, deeper to the bottom.

I thought about telling her that I’d been lost and I tried
Finding myself by drawing maps over my wrist with a
Car that had seen too many miles in such a short amount of time.
I wanted to tell her that I made too many mistakes that I couldn’t
Take back; ones that I couldn’t hide or cover all the time.
But she wouldn’t understand.

So instead, I pushed my sleeve back up to the middle of my
Forearm where it’d been when she’d first asked,
Exposing the lines of flesh that had healed over but
Left a permanent scar of raised skin.
I ran my fingertips over it, feeling the wounds
Like a train moves over ridges of the railroad.

The girl’s eye’s studied my scars that I showed her.
I took her arm in my hand and traced my fingers over
Her own skin,
Then I took her hand and told her to do the same.
She did, then repeated the motion on mine.
Her cold fingers touching what I’d never wanted her to see.

We made eye contact again.
“Do you see how your skin has no bumps on it like mine?”
I asked her. She nodded her head in response.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be. Don’t ever think about ruining it.”
I told her.
She nodded her head again, too young to comprehend,
And turned around to run down the hallway.

I didn’t want my daughter to see me as a victim, but a survivor.

here's the revised version. let me know if you like the changes or think I should take stuff out. Give me some serious, serious feedback. I need it to produce the video :)
(I'm a bit undecided about the title) :(
  Feb 7
Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Feb 7      Feb 7

“Where did you get those marks on your arm?”
Instincts pulled the fabric down over the evidence.
I thought of giving my normal excuse:
My cat scratched the hell out of me.
Most people didn’t know that I didn’t even have a cat.
But people believed the lie.

I didn’t answer the girl’s question right away
And the silence that filled the space between us
Reminded me of when a stranger enters the elevator;
Neither of us talked or looked at each other.

I thought of telling the curious girl about my teenage years
And how it seemed a dark cloud seemed to hover about me;
Reigning over my head and sliding beneath my feet
Like a magic carpet, taking me to places I didn’t enjoy going.

I could have told her that often times I could feel
That terrible cloud becoming stronger and overwhelming me
Like turning on a faucet and warm water covering the bottom
Of the bathtub, inch by inch. I could feel it like that eerie feeling that comes
Before a big thunderstorm, starting near my feet and seeming to
Crawl up my legs as I tried to push it down and away.
But pushing it was like pushing a cloud of smoke, it swirled
To other parts of my body but it lingered around.

I thought about but didn’t tell the girl that I often
Laid in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling,
Imagining myself floating around the high walls of the church
Where my funeral shouldn’t have been held
Because of all the sins I’d dreamt of committing.
Suicide is considered a sin.

I pictured my mother crying, my brother trying to
Keep his composure; my friends who’d dressed in black and sat
In the church pews, keeping hold of the secret they’d known about.
I imagined a lot of hugging, and tears, but mostly I heard lies
That they’d tell about me:
“She was so young.”
“She had so much going for her.”
“It’s really too bad.”
“What a beautiful girl she was.”

I saw myself lying inside the casket, one half of the tube open,
Revealing my arms crossed in front of me,
My fingers laced in between the spaces of each other
As if I were praying much too late.

After discovering the scars upon my wrists,
I would be clothed in long sleeves to hide what everyone
Had been pretending not to see.
I didn’t tell the girl that I’d already seen my funeral.

She continued looking at me, waiting for the answer
To the question I’d hoped would never be asked.

I thought about telling her how I kept a thin, silver
Razor blade hidden inside my purse so when that dark
Cloud of smoke threatened, I could slice my way through.
I didn’t tell her that there was a time when I depended
On such a small, dangerous object. And I didn’t tell her that
I often grasped the metal like a lifejacket to keep me afloat
Amongst the raging waters that wanted to drown me.

I wanted to tell her that late at night after I was sure the house
Was asleep, I cried huge, heaving, silent sobs.
My pillow caught my tears and the blanket served as a Kleenex.
It was all I could do to hold back the truth of telling her that
I grabbed my life preserver many times and would drag the blade
Across my flesh, creating a ripple of red ink over my pale, white wrist;
A tear in the canvas of my body.

I thought about telling her that many nights
I drank too much alcohol and digested too many pills
And cut too deep.
I thought about telling her that I’d been lost and I tried
Finding myself by drawing maps over my wrist with a
Car that had seen too many miles in such a short amount of time.
I wanted to tell her that I made too many mistakes that I couldn’t
Take back; ones that I couldn’t hide or cover all the time.
But she wouldn’t understand.

So instead, I pushed my sleeve back up to the middle of my
Forearm where it’d been when she’d first asked,
Exposing the lines of flesh that had healed over but
Left a permanent scar of raised skin.
I ran my fingertips over it, feeling the wounds
Like a train moves over ridges of the railroad.

The girl’s eye’s studied my scars that I showed her.
I took her arm in my hand and traced my fingers over
Her own skin,
Then I took her hand and told her to do the same.
She did, then repeated the motion on mine.
Her cold fingers touched what I’d never wanted her to see.

We made eye contact again.
“Do you see how your skin has no bumps on it like mine?”
I asked her. She nodded her head in response.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be. Don’t ever think about ruining it.”
I told her.
She nodded her head again, too young to comprehend,
And turned around to run down the hallway.

I hadn’t ever thought my daughter would notice.

OR have the last line be:
I could only hope to protect my daughter from dark clouds of smoke.

I need some serious, serious feedback guys. I want to record this and make a spoken word video so please, please let me know what you think and what can be fixed or better. Thanks! :)
  Feb 5
Otis Hemlock

It's wintertime
The snows are ever colder
And the rage of my transgressions
Are brought to form by the aggression of storm
Causing a solidarity
Unforeseen
A peculiar shade of white
That agitates change

Painting snow with absent hostility
Watching it fill
With oranges, blues, greens
Bringing the snow a certain depth
A perspective
A masterpiece

Though as is the nature of change
Snow too
Is a temporary medium

It melts
Falls again into the clouds
And puddles of dyed water
Are what I see
Dried colors, leaving stains
On the concrete where the masterpiece once stood
Just one more memory I forgot to capture
Another memory, forgotten

  Jan 23
Ozzy B
Ozzy B
Jan 23      Jan 23

I wake, with a heavy heart
and your name, it's sweet taste,
still hanging on my tongue
  
Like fresh morning dew,
I wait as reality dissipates the fog
that brings me my dear comfort,
that kept me safe through the night.
Can you still feel me dreaming of you?

Mundane life, endless, burning repetition,
just waiting for the time to come
when I can fill my hollow soul with lies
and pretend that you're real.
Pretend that  we're  real

It's probably unhealthy. Mentally damaging
and very emotionally draining.
"A psychological anchor into a world
of make-believe to escape the pressures
of life," or something to that effect.

I can't even say that you haunt me anymore.
I am the one who haunts me,
and I use you as my weapon of choice
in this war on sanity
that takes place within me

And the last laugh is my own,
as behind this seemingly whole masquerade
is a terrible nightmare that I've created.

The really sad part, the part that
morbidly amuses me is that
I regret nothing.

  Jan 13
Melissa Vance
Jan 13      Jan 14

Hey
I know it's been a while
Since we've last both spoken.
I'm doing fine

                                            Except
I miss you sometimes
When I least expect it
I'm not really sure why
It's not like we were anything special
Maybe it's the look in your eye
In that one moment of vulnerability
When you tore off all the layers
Of protection
That you pull so tightly
Around you
Perfectly hiding you
Making you invincible from the world


Did that scare you?
That I saw that side?
Is that why you didn't call
Didn't leave even a note or an inkling
That you had the slightest interest
Or was your interest only for those few
Moments together


Like magic
Engulfing me completely
Intoxicating my senses
Filling me to the brim
With you and the possibility of more


More that will never come
Because you won't let it

I want you to know that I go
From spurts of anger to pain
When I think of you
And what we could have had
Sometimes I still hold hope
Before remembering
Stupid girl, it'll never work


You make me the highest of highs and the lowest of lows
And you don't even know it
Funny
Because I don't want you to
You don't deserve that
And at this rate you never will


Well this is getting long winded
And it's something you'll never see
Because really why would you?
You never even think of me!
So I guess it's time
To finish what I have to say
There's really nothing else
Other than
Goodbye

This is something I wrote when I couldn't sleep and couldn't get a certain person off my mind. Hoping for some closure with this piece. As always, constructive criticism and commentary is welcome. Thank you.
  Jan 13
Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Jan 13      Jan 14

Laws that get me in trouble.
Mostly for public intoxication
After wandering aimlessly down
Lost streets.
Love I never receive; or gift anyone with either.
Liquor that takes the pain away
If only temporary.
Love fades,
Feelings change,
And the hangover the next morning
Reminds me of why I hate myself
After downing my first shot of alcohol
The night before.
So I start drinking again for breakfast
And the next morning will play out the same.
Endless truths hide behind lies
And luck has never been something I’m  good at.
Life is a game and I can’t ever seem to win,
I lost. I lose. I’m losing.
Over and over again
People call me a lowlife and say I’m going nowhere.
Liquor cures the lonesome for the night
And men tell me they love me.
I believe them.

I hate the word “love.”

feedback is always appreciated.
go like my facebook fan page
My collection of poems, "Partially Whole" is available on Amazon :)
  Dec 28, 2013
Haley Dalton
Haley Dalton
Mar 9, 2013      Mar 10, 2013

If your searching for someone perfect
Please dont waste your time on me,
If your searching for someone with a pretty face
Please dont judge by what you see,
If your trying to find someone who doesnt cry in  her sleep
Than please dont try and comfort me,
Im not the girl
Everyone expects me to be,
Yes i wear a mask
And if youd like to take it off
And see what is underneath,
If you'd like to get to know the real me
I wont bite
Ill let you see,
And if you decide to leave
I'm glad you saw the real me,
So if you are searching for someone real
I quess that isnt me,
But if you lie what you see
Please take the time to get to know me,
Im not as bad as people make it seem
I've just had a rough start,
I'm not like everyone else you see
Thats why im unique,
I hold back tears so no one may see
I fight back pan so no one may suffer,
But if your willing to stay
I will take the mask off
And show you all my imperfection.

  Dec 12, 2013
Brian Downs
Brian Downs
Dec 3, 2013

The bush that I beat around
is round and profound and its not attached to the ground but,
it seems to pound aloud the sound of..
the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees
and the water that we all drown in.
If I could climb the tallest mound
in the smallest town
and sing aloud
as if I scaled the Everest Mountain.
And if he talks down on my leaps and bounds
would you be proud to stand around him?
I astound the clowns who wear the crowns and silly gowns
behind a shroud of sirens.
That claim the grounds of their compound
and are aroused by accounts of violence.
And as the body count arises...
The people around, in silence
while the clowns burn down the city now
Oh, how we've all turned out so mindless.

  Dec 5, 2013
Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Dec 5, 2013      Dec 6, 2013

I've recently been contacted about having my collection of poems published. since you all are such great fans and supporters, I invite you to go 'like' my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/courtneyksnodgrass
you'll get additional sneak peeks like excerpts and quotes from the novel that I just finished writing as well!
it would really mean a lot if you guys could go like my page and then invite your friends too. (if you feel I deserve it)
all is appreciated, thank you so much.
~Courtney Snodgrass

sorry for the self promo
 
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