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1.1k · Apr 2013
No More (time)
Susie Nuttall Apr 2013
No more time for pain.
Tear stains.
Or sobs.
Shrieks at the top of your lungs!
Frustrated fidgeting,
Or furious dialect.
The true depths of sorrow,
unreached yet,
Shall remain unexplored.

The heights of fury and rage,
Shall be another days venture.
(Or hopefully never).

Visions of disliked visages,
Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts,
Lustily leaving lover and friend
Twitching,
Writhing,
Boiling,
Melting,
Rotting,
And congealing into a puddle of humanity
at the knowledge of their philandering.  

Numbness sinks through the dermis,
Hiding hints of heartbeats,
Silencing skins sweet sensations.
Breathing,
But barely.

No time for sensation,
Emotion,
Expression,
Interest,
Thought,
Muttering,
Mentioning,
M­urmuring,
Meditating.

Reform some semblance of humanity.
No time for languishing,
Luridly,
Lethargically,
Liquefying.

Only enough time for a little poetry.
And then,
Hopefully,
Life.
798 · May 2013
Inquiry
Susie Nuttall May 2013
Friendly phone calls,
Simple voice-mails of succinct words,
Hmms and umms of hesitation and deliberation.
Speak it just so,
And listen!
Enthusiasm pours through one speaker,
And resounds on the other end.

An inquiry made by an intellect with intriguing intent.
Contriving combinations of causes for contacting
this woman of his wishful thoughts.

Today,
Happenstance brought happiness,
With a serendipitous sighting and salutation.
Tremors tiptoed across his voice,
Telling of his thrill at the encounter.

He ponders if there is reciprocation,
As she hesitates at recognition
That this could be more then friendly.
671 · Jun 2013
Our Pieces of Happiness
Susie Nuttall Jun 2013
I find poetry hard to come by.
Prose hidden under tangled tongue and translucent thoughts.
I won’t look at them, straight in the eye.
Know them for the truths they are.

My eyes are covered, and so you are not there
and neither am I.
Playing peek-a-boo with life’s lessons,
when I part my hands,
uncover my eyes,
and stare you down,
will I see with some kind of clarity?

Or will it be like staring out a foggy window,
passing your shirt sleeve over glass to wipe away the droplets,
only to find the mist is on the other side of the pane.

If I had any sense, I would turn and run.
But when did happiness start depending on sensible things?
And when you try to answer this, don’t mistake happiness for its less attractive sibling: contentment.

You can take your sensible sentiments of contentment,
and shove it.

Happiness I starve for,
and will strive for.
Contentment is the less savory meal
that fails to satisfy and nourish.

To some it is tolerable.
But I will tolerate the ridiculous,
combat sorrow and hardships of all kinds,
for just a morsel of that dish we all deserve a little bite of.

I will seek you out with a smile,
Happiness,
until a piece of you is mine.
635 · Apr 2013
Memories of Anxiety
Susie Nuttall Apr 2013
It ate me down to the core.
Like a child eating an apple for lunch.
Biting through red waxy skin,
Gnawing away at the white crunchy innards,
Leaving only the stem and seeds.

Normal functions were failing,
Starved,
but the smell of food drove me to sickness.
Exhausted,
And yet so very awake.
Happy,
But tears always came before smiles.

Pills.
Like tiny white seeds of hope,
Plant them and what will grow?
A garden where the trees bear fruit?
With a thick bed of grass nestled in the shade?
A place where I can rest and eat and live
in peace.

Or will there be weeds?
Will the trees bear fruit,
But only that which is dry and tasteless?
Is the grass patchy,
Filled with thistles and small thorns that *****?
Does the shade hide a cloud of gnats that will buzz in my ear?
When I am so close to sleep,
Will all I hear be their clamor?

These thoughts come back to me as I lay in the shade,
Eating the magnificent fruit,
And swatting at the gnats.
You have to take the good with the bad they say.
565 · Apr 2014
Existential
Susie Nuttall Apr 2014
All that I have created?
Empty words.
They flutter about my head on gausomer wings.

In,
and out,
and all about.

Four months of thought?
Only on flimsy things.
Significance has been too rare in my life.

In,
out,
none about.

Is fear or appathy my greatest enemy?
Both dampen my emotions.
Thick wet blankets placed on my tiny flame.

On,
snuffed out,
nothing about.

How does anyone bear this weight?
Existence is massive,
And we are all Atlas of slighter frame.

Life,
filled with doubt,
pressure throughout.
From a few months ago.
542 · Dec 2013
Flash of Pleasure
Susie Nuttall Dec 2013
A flash of pleasure, surprise, and passion,
Burst forth,
Burning away apprehensions of painful memory.

The fire is kindled,
Will I play?
Yes.

Will knowledge of the building heat
of this amorous flame,
protect me against being singed?
No.

Spark, to embers, to dancing flames, to an inferno.
In this way all fires grow.
Smoke cloaks
the flames as they move to encircle you,
until it is too late.
Charred by the flames,
You will be alive,
But only barely.

If only I would step away from the flame.
I am a woman and not a moth,
But I am drawn in.

A few steps could save me so much pain.
But it burns so bright!
I am dazzled by its intensity,
And held fast by its warmth.
So many promises it cannot keep,
But still I trust and move all the closer.
409 · Jun 2013
This is All.
Susie Nuttall Jun 2013
Life.

The simple way to explain the meaning of Life,
is Love.

Other things happen,
other things change,
there are many emotions,
and absurdities,
and mysteries.
Life is a blur.

But in the end,
and in the middle,
and at the beginning,
since forever and for always,

Life is,
has been,
and will be about Love.

The Love of everything and anything.

So Love,
**that is All.

— The End —