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Matthew M Lydon Jan 2015
one more click
a button pressed
an ocean of toner evaporates
line by line by line

the hand that presses the buttons
connected to the brain from the word go
twitches, trying to remember:
the muscle memory of
sliding knives into delicate ******* of chicken
uncorking expensive bottles of wine
to drink, to cook with
to bandage bleeding fingers
cut to the quick by misplaced motion of
chef knives
remembering the gossamer touch of the sous chef
who said, in her northeast Philadelphia sing-song
applying Bactine, gauze and several different types of pressure

"hey, at least we aren't dying in cube-farms, right?"

the blood pours in the past, but now the bills are paid
the stain, long wiped away, still remains

hit. print.
inspired by whatever daily hell keeps you from experiencing what you'd rather be experiencing
EAHutch Feb 2014
I am from pancakes, from ovaltine and cheerios
I am from an empty street that welcomes bare feet at twilight
I am from a big green back yard
from lilacs and daffodils
valentines and Easter eggs
from road trips in the van
And tuna sandwiches with extra mayonnaise

I am from being late to everything
And bedtime and naptime
From Bactine and band aids and bee stings and remember to wear shoes
when you ride your scooter
or walk over the pine needles
or under the slide where the grass is dry and sharp

I am from everyone is equal and religion is not a bad thing  
And no one is wrong to believe,
But you don’t have to.

I am from Cheese pizza and Chocolate Milk
From the dinner bell when dad gets home from work
Or the candy cookie at the end of the day
if you help mom with the groceries
I am from waffles and homemade peach ice cream on the forth of July

From water melon and doctor Suess on a picnic blanket
From Crayons and markers and coloring books
I am from stuffed animals covered in dust cause you left them outside
From ski school
From pink lemonade and M&Ms;
I am from no matter how cold that water is
I will swim in the rivers and oceans

I am from flying kites
From riding bikes to the end of the street
From sleeping outside on the deck
But not the whole night,
Cause you start to miss your bed.

I am from Halloween is scary sometimes-
And so is the queen in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
And the witch in the Wizard of Oz
And the abominable snowman in Rudolph
From I think we will stick to the jungle Book and Lady and the *****



I am from snowmen and sledding hills and hot chocolate
with extra marsh mellows
From hanging Christmas lights in a snowstorm
And Dads sorry he let you jump off the deck
when you hit your nose to your knee-
He thought the snow was deep enough.

I am from Sprinklers and Trampolines
From Lodge Pole, Columbine, Bear Tree
From Ten minutes to bedtime
Junie B Jones Clifford the Big Red Dog and Bear in the Big Blue House


I am from Juice Coffee and Cinnamon toast
From broken heels and Sticky fingers
From counting stairs and sheep and pennies
and the days until Christmas
From the top of Dad shoulders at the tree lighting
From falling asleep with your head in Moms lap
in the booth at the restaurant.

I am from love
From hugs and kisses and holding on to one another so tight
Because what other way to show them you care.
Allen Robinson Jul 2016
Back in the day
   we all looked forward
      to AFTERNOON RECESS
at time to play
    with friends outside
        in the old school yard
games of tag, duck duck goose,
    red light green light and my
        favorite  of all... dodge ball
grass stained knees & brush burns
     covered our little bodies and
          we never cared as a spray
of bactine or merthiolate cured all
     soaring on swing sets
         playing marbles and trading
cards was always on the list
     throwing a football, baseball
        or frisbee was common
We were allowed to play
     unencumbered and just
          be plain old kids.
Star Gazer Mar 2016
People don't understand that being hurt
Is like contorting a wound and rubbing dirt
In place of applying bactine,
It's like fighting a disease without a vaccine,
A world where the average relies on being mean.

People don't understand that being invincible
Doesn't shield you from love the way you had hoped
And standing in the crosshairs of a ******'s scope
We come to realize that Cupid is a deadeye,
He's capable of hitting anyone without try.

Even the strong falls in the face of their emotions
And even an alchemist has no true cure or potion
For this affliction,
Known as love.

I have loved you for half a year
And although that isn't a long while
I have cried a billion tears
And I have loved you with a million hearts.
I write this last poem dedicated to you
To remind you that you are beautiful
And hope that you find the happiness
That you seek for.
Holland Nov 2018
I am not human

I am a doll

On one side of a coin
I was loved
By my owner

On the flip side
I was cut open
Like an experiment

Instead of being fixed
By having new fluff put in
And sewn back up kindly

I was left exposed
For years on end
With cold scalpels and loose change
Inserted into my stomach and legs

Out of the corner of my eye
I watched my owner
As he laughed

Enjoying the pain
He so maliciously inflicted

Once you're cut open
You're never perfectly whole again
You're buttons are always slightly off
Your stitched skin always has gaps

I am a human

I am not a doll

I have the choice to change my destiny
But I only have so much power

Such a scarred psyche
Paralyzes my steps
Of rehabilitation

For years, I've taken my own needle
Stitching myself from side to side
Without bactine to ward off infection
Without anesthetic to numb the pain

When people let you down
You begin to rely on yourself
for everything you shouldn't have to

I'm tired

So I've given the needle to someone else

To you who have been given a needle

Kindly stitch me together again
Carrying your own torch is too hard sometimes. Hand it off to someone else. :)

— The End —