Closed for Renovations    1969 -    
Can I respectfully ask that you revisit some of my older poems... If the renovations don't go to plan they are soon to be demolished.
Can I respectfully ask that you revisit some of my older poems... If the renovations don't go to plan they are soon to be demolished.
2 days ago

she shall stand upon the sand

and bravely meet the wave

upon a shore of lonliness

bowing unto a new day

she shall feel the gentle kiss

of lapping water upon her skin

kissing spray of a repeat greeting

that continues to ask her to stay

she will sit upon the shore

to gather unto her side

repeating visits from

a retreating lover

that comes and goes

with the tide

Jan 22

see me sitting
on the floor
see the cracks
inside the flaws
feel my anger
live my pain
I'll never be
the same again
while I exist
inside life's twister
my anchor will be
My Sister

I love my Sisters... being one of 5 girls, I'm lucky to have them all in my life, no one knows anybody else quite like a sister knows a sister :)
#love   #sister  
Jan 22

I'd describe it as

mercury exploding
from an antique gun,
diamonds dripping
from broken eyes,
rubies melting
upon the sun,
crystals evaporated
on a lengthy sigh

but reality goes

you pointed the weapon
and pulled the trigger
I cried tears from eyes
that never saw your depth
the blood that spatters
against your fingers
will be able to trace
words of my last breath

f u c k i n g
      b a s t a r d

Poetry v Reality
#poetry   #reality  
  Jan 18  Helen
Grim Spade

I see your blood, I know you're in pain
But let not your suffering be in vein
Let me hold your broken heart
To keep it from further falling apart
Protected until a solution is found
Held close to me, safe and sound
I crack, crumble, and fall apart
But I'd rather I suffer than let anything harm your heart
My doors are ironclad
My walls are steel
I hope I can make you happy and glad
So I can continue to bear the metal, so cold to feel
I want you to smile
I want you to weep with joy
So I can continue my denial
Of the walls collapsing, myself I destroy
I am the vault of secrets and lies
If you smile, then I'll be the one they all despise
Even if you hate me after
Just be happy now and forever

  Jan 18  Helen
Grim Spade

I'm screaming silently
I'm crying for help inaudibly
I shout but nothing can be heard
Listen close, not a syllable, much less a word
I'm screaming silently
For someone to end my misery
An existence inside of my head
I may as well be as good as dead
I need to be saved, to be heard
But I scream and shout with a smile, not a word

Jan 17

So I stumbled upon HP one day,
not really, I fell face first
with a glass of wine in my hand
giggling like a school girl
except that uniform hadn't fit in
30 years so it was kinda more like
a 50 year old stripper pretending
she can actually still giggle without crying.
I made a few friends, well, I say friends but we were all whores
working the same lame dead corner

Of course, some of us went on to marry well and some just felt they
could no longer worship a vengeful
God and probably stuck a knitting
needle in their eye, or something.
I'm not going to name names here!

Let's just say one went onto fame,
self publishing was cool way before
YOU ever thought of it and another
just yanked the chain around their neck so hard you never even heard
their spine crack and then one dear
friend got ganked by their own self importance.

Trust me bitches!!! THAT is a loaded gun.

But this is all Ancient History to the
those that were born during the
I Love Myself with Hate or
I Cut Myself with Love era.
I'm talking about friendships
that fossilise over time
creating deeper bonds than
I love you, no, I love you, no I love you times

So, watching all those that couldn't hack the pace of the streets died
one by one.
Marriage, Suicide, Shot in the Foot
until the brain bleed out,
they all fell like over bloated flies
gorging on the rancid meat left lying around.
A few survived the sickness by purging,
You know, when you stick your fingers down your throat and expel the garbage from within except,
that kind of concept can be deadly
when you have blood red hooker nails...
The remaining 'Oh Heavenly Father, why do you forsake me' ones
retreated to the HP Elysium Fields, passing on their wisdom to a baby kind that will never care about anything but their own grandiose style of taking a dump in the wilds of cyberspace.

So hooker days sadly came to an end at the fork in the road,
yes peeps, pun intended
until one day, I met a guy that ran me over,
literally hit me with a car and left me
a bloody mess, stood over me and said
"How much Bitch and you better deduct dollars for the dent in my front fender"
As I chewed on my blood red hooker nails and spat teeth into the street
I offered him a hand and he said
I'll take that and your mouth and
let's see what you can do with
that heartbeat
We drove to the Motel Dive
and I asked him if he knew where all the other hookers had gone from the same lame corner where we all carved our own slices of heaven and he threw me down to the ground and ripped off his shirt.
Upon his flesh was carved each of those names that I had once kicked up heels with, jerked around and laid under the street lamp with,
watching all the little preppies in their pretend Oldsmobiles cruise by without a single worry on their shoulders except for the boulder sized chips and
their own inadequacies riding shotgun on their lips.
The one HP friend that threw me to the ground and carved my name upon their flesh is also the one who resurrected me.
But I think he may have killed all the other ones but, they were dead before they knew it!
But hey!
Hell is where all your friends are right?

taught me everything I know (and a lot I didn't) would gladly follow my friend into the fire.
Jan 10

In storms
she is your anchor
In blindness
she is your sight
In sadness
she is your laughter
In darkness
she is your light
In weakness
she is your strength
In nightmares
she is your dream
In kindness
she is your weakness
At night time
she hears your screams
In low times
she is the mountain
In dry times
she is the stream
At all times
she is the rock
Never pretending to be
anything else
than what she appears
to be

To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment