in the morning
we struggle with the bed sheets that
wrap us, bind us
in the afternoon
we crawl to our desks
and burn our faces
from our phones, from our laptops
reasoning, pleading, typing, and clicking
away the words and sentences
that could decide our fates
in the evening
the voices sharing laughter and stories are
to be found in the dinner table
there is only the hurried clanging
of forks and knives against porcelain
we swallow several morsels of reheated leftovers
and just drown our stomachs with coffee and pills
the breath of our sighs fill the air
and bring us to suffocation
we drag our limbs
the answers and solutions may be
with all our might,
we anchor ourselves against the world's spin
our sunken weary eyes
glance at each other from time to time
no words are spoken
but from those fleeting moments
we know the burdens that the other carries
as much as our hearts ache to
we can't help each other
because we're already too lost helping ourselves
Since Your soul was sad and
Longed for me
My goal in life will forever be
To open Your eyes to
See Your beauty
Your wings will spread and
Take fairy flight
You are a perfect pixie in the night
You dance with the wind
As a butterfly kite and
Waltz with the moon
By his lunar light
Playful and impish
Your smile breaks the sorrow
We no longer must wish
For a happier tomorrow
We are together today
The magic in me comes from the
Power in She
Her supernatural spirit
Fills me with energy
A kind before I'd never conceived
She is a safe siren for me
That has intervened and
Showed me an entirely
Surreal state of being
So much so I question my sanity
Each morning awakened by Your face
A golden glow that fills my empty space
I will know I'm not crazy when I say
We were formed as corresponding shapes
Together as one We were carved from clay
[sorry Ben gibbard ;) <3]
Separated before but joined at last
Our future is now and
We forgive Our pasts
We will take it as lessons and shadows cast
Our presence together is infinite and vast
I am the sun and
You are the moon
In a constant chase
Keeping you on the move
If you slow the race and
Let me catch up with you
I promise to bring
Us something brand new
Do you believe and trust that it's true?
That I can Your super glue
Keep You from breaking apart when You're blue
Hold You together like
Wood and screws at
Your splitting seams
You are the rafters and
Beams above me
My comfort and
A beautiful building of safety
Surrounding my love
Creating shelter and serenity
You are my sweetie
When You hear this my dear
I am hoping that maybe
You will open your arms and
Embrace these feelings
You are the aura
With which I want to be
i've seen you before...
skin paler with the glow of screens and pixels
whether because of your strong feminist opinions (reasons not to wear a shirt and throw glitter at your family, and then run away)
or because hey, you only had a towel, but you still wanted to talk to me and watch the telly
or because you like wearing comfortable but ill-fitting pajamas,
i've seen you
i've seen your body.
i'm not going to pretend like i didn't care or like i didn't look, because i did. i do.
but i just thought you should know
that every inch of you
and you really
shouldn't slice yourself so deep
that the gashes on your ivory skin
so that you wonder and ask me
if it's normal
and if they usually do that, when i have cuts,
because you say that for you, they always do
and that's just
because mine nearly never go that deep
but i couldn't tell you that
i began writing this a very long time ago and kept it as a draft for a long time and this is about as far as i'm ever going to get with it so pfft here it is
Jaylin was scared and detrimental -
with runaway scars,
his heavy breathing,
and the wolves chasing such a forgotten soul.
"I'm more afraid of death then before,
more afraid of the teeth ripping through my skull,
I have to end this dream.",
He said screaming, knowing it was but of no dream.
Is the end just above the harassing, or still just a mere speck waiting to be seen.
he screamed again, as the snow touched his face
- wishing his fellow friends could hear.
the mindless memories all over his body warned him.
It warned him he was still wanted by them.
Still yearned by the ones of which owned the forest.
"Jaylin, run! Run now!"
this wasn't his mind, but the mysteries' wind that ran next to him.
He heard it, but didn't know what it said until he saw them -
barking, running and almost screaming.
Jaylin stopped to listen to this screaming,
as if the screaming was the sound of a thousand ghosts that the Wolves killed.
Hearing all this he knew he wasn't the first.
"How could the wind know?,
Why are there some many voices in my head!?,
I don't want to be trapped like the other lost and forgotten souls!,
I don't want to be screaming in endless time of death !",
what was wished for was soon put away in the hollow sound of the universe.
they found him.
and the taste of death
where all things felt when Jaylin was bitten.
Bitten by The Wolves.
Bright windy November
with the slap of cold sun sending frowns
and the absent rain not beating down
choleric substitutes of alcohol withdrawal
and spatial omissions of home fires stoking
empty remembrances of faded potential and
misplaced amorous regret
Haunted by the lingering smell of the souls of
last night's GUINNESS intake staying swell in
the nostrils which is in reality the gulf breeze blowing
gullshit down the river Liffey giver of life.
...And here I am Dublin pillaged and funded
en route to the hour-rate slog
shiny white commerce bleaching out of
windowsills distracting from rooftop
Chiaroscuro serenading a sky
which old junkie forgotten Sons and Daughters
will die under.
Boots tapping mock-goosestep to the ground
past a girl who speaks on her IPHONE to someone
who presumably not only wants to be seen speaking
to someone on their IPHONE but who also cares enough
to listen as the girl announces to all-and-sundry
human dodging on Bachelors Walk this fateful morn
that "I realised what my problem is Now! People
think i'm saying N when I'm really saying M!"
.....quite an existential crisis you got there, EH DOC?
("This girl's SITUATION belongs in a scenario in the TV show GIRLS which young
Woman Europe-wide have embraced as their spiritual saviour in an era of Consumer
impulse control. By placing the mundane generalities and perceived social failings
interpreted by young American female comediennes as instead representing a means and
self-forgiveness and attempted new-wave soft-core feminist self-celebration young American
actresses are inspiring a new generation of young woman to speak openly in a more in-depth level about everything that usually happens to themselves or some girl they know"-From "The Post-New Male Gaze: Interpreting Critiques of Stereotypically Feminized Pop Culture in Westley Barnes's "Notes on a Rant: The "Took Me Up To Dublin Where It's Famous" Notebook
This is the new white noise.
White Irish Male Critiques perceived socially-announced problems of White Irish Female over White Technology on a white morning in a grey city.
A grey city which subliminally stinks of shame and left-over guilt and of spending too much money on tecno-toys and new-improved nullifying debauchery and even rent during a significantly rough stretch of fiscal years. After a lot of years of white nonsense, really.
But this is where I took myself, and this is what happens once you take yourself here and this is where its famous for it.
Once Monto-based FUNDERLAND for the rich and royal turned over-waxie infested tenement slum district and second city of an industrialised economy waiting for the rest of the world to pay its way.
capital of green and squeaky saviours of the third-world who made some money and forgot about everyone else they used to know back home. Mr Poverty, Mr Humbleness, Mr Sense of Catholic Shame.
Until the rents got too high and they had to move home again.
no matters what it achieves, always putting itself down.
But I can adapt.
I've lived in Rathmines and Portobello before living in either was a
really hip decision to make.
I can find somewhere else before its gets gentrified
(after I find some job that's not worth complaining about
or I eventually leap into becoming to middle-class
to complain about it.)
enough that its a headache living there, too many men wearing the same winter
jackets. Too many packed restaurants and your local actually *preparing the tables
in the run-up to the Rugby game on Saturday.
The less of all that, the better for me.
I used to day dream about all of the above, honestly, but I
somehow managed to regain my innocence by living through it.
As for the girl who discovered self-realisation on her (through her?) IPHONE?
She'll be alright. If that's how she starts wading through the floodwaters of relating
herself to the world, misunderstood syllables, name-fails and all, this time in twenty
years, she'll be laughing. Don't worry yourselves, she'll adapt with the times.
Sure, Dublin's famous for it.
Do yourself a favor and keep scrolling.
Our first snowfall began at 9 a.m. this very morning.
Down came crystal ice, lacy clouds, and with it came the seasonal side of human troubles. I found my self transformed into a filthy romantic, gazing longingly out the window, wrapped in a wool blanket and holding my little brother who smiled at the Frosty the Snowman cartoon on TV. With the cold always comes the chills. The ones that shimmy up your shirt as you stand in the bathroom, trying not to look in the mirror while you undress. The chills that creep into your veins through open wounds and wind themselves around your rib-cage. I couldn't feel the warm air shooting from the vents while I sat beside them. I couldn't taste the Jack-In-The-Box daddy brought home at midnight. He put on an old movie and slowly everyone drifted to sleep. That's when I stole a few hours for myself. Taking my little doe-eyed puppy out into the yard, tossing him into a snowdrift for the first time. He cowered there for a moment, before darting back onto the deck, staring in awe and terror down at the snow. I lit a stolen cigarette and plopped down into the freezing mess.
I had a little too much to eat and felt like sleeping right there in my dampened jeans and Joe's Crab Shack t-shirt. I thought about putting out the Pal-Mal stick and being a straight-laced little girl for the holidays. I thought about the stinging of my latest stress-relief therapy (a bit of a home remedy) and also about Robert Plant's hair. Soon enough, after endless replays of my favorite music videos, my mind had emptied. The frigid air had sucked all my thoughts and memories from my head like a vacuum cleaner. All that remained was a sense of impending doom. A needle in the base of my skull, every nerve-ending in my body was pinched by icy fingers. Someone was calling my name from inside me, My own skin was shifting and rippling over my muscles, trembling and tingling. There was somewhere I had to be, something I should be doing, someone who needed my help. I sat up and looked around the yard, from the chain link fence, to the gorgeous view of the valley and the city blow me, to the ugly siding of my manufactured home. My eyes darted back and forth, my puppy, the chicken house, the dead rose bush. I was alone, alone with my dog in a white miracle. Every snowflake looked like a stray bullet, raining down on me from the gods, but kissing my cheeks and melting on my feverish skin. I wished i could fall like that, and drip onto someone's lips or cling to their eyelashes. But i was here, alone in the darkness with smoke-scented gloves and breath, in a yard of dead grass frozen in a flood.And then I started to cry. I didn't know why, I still have no idea what kind of madness washed over me as I shivered, my ass soaked and my nose running. But I sobbed and sobbed and put my head between my knees. The snow had gathered on the shoulders of my woolen pea-coat and sprinkled down as I shook and gasped, I must have sat there for half an hour, listening to a train go by in the valley, singing to the empty streets, trying to pull myself together. I'm still shivering even sitting here in my warm bed. But at that moment, I was as fragile and fleeting as the very dust that had settled across the entire town.
I managed to dry my eyes and stumble back through the front door tailed by a whimpering brown pup. Everyone, still crashed on the couches and floor, unaware of the scraggly disaster crawling through the living room. The Christmas tree twinkled in the corner and the TV played static. I kissed my baby brother on the forehead and slipped my lighter back into my coat pocket. The season had set in, the snow was here to stay. I was left wondering about the madness of the season and the sanity of the skies.
Every year, water freezes mid air and falls onto the earth in heaps of cold white heaven. It's a fucking miracle. It happens every year without fail and yet somehow it surprises and amazes us every time.
I sound like an angsty basketcase.
Someone throw me off a cliff before I do it myself.
I always thought a good murder-ending would be a nice touch to my biography.
My night was awful.
She first came to me in my dreams
when I was fifteen or so. Yes,
she was the fire of ecstasy and her first licks
set my world alight.
She's a shape-shifter, sometimes
blonde, sometimes dark,
but always softly naked when she comes.
She often whispers secrets
in the molten nights.
But clumsily, when morning breaks,
I struggle to remember. Accordingly,
I search subterranean rivers
and far off mists and mountains
every writhing, glistening day.
So it won’t surprise you now to know
about where I live and breathe.
I'm under the volcano,
you know, the place of endless fire.
It's where us dreamers and us demons
dance with our desire.
Mike T Minehan
Plenty of poems from broken hearts who got loved then dumped.
Women writing poems about wanting a man back after he dirty dogged her.
Don't take rocket scientist to know something wrong with that picture.
Clue to men who ain't going to stay put even if he put a ring on it.
He's flirting with everything in a skirt, He ain't attentive after he hit it,
You gotta be the one always calling, He don't call unless he wants to hit,
He gets defensive when you want to know why he wasn't where he said he'd be.
Those are signs he's c-h-e-a-t-i-n-g and so are the ones coming up.
You catch him in lies and he makes you think your losing it.
He closes window of his computer when you enter the room.
All his is password protected and he wont tell you his passwords.
He's getting and receiving text messages he wont let you read.
He leaves the room when he gets a call.
If you answer his phone you get hang ups, phone rings until he answers.
He wont let you meet his friends or his family.
He starts arguments so you wont go with him when he leaves.
Men don't get pissed cause I'm ratting you out. Read one too many
heart break poems to be sorry for truth telling on my gender.
Men think about sex when they not having it.
If he don't want to hit it he's hitting it else where.
Coming up is ones to skip and avoid.
You can skip the ones who look at your cleavage and not your eyes.
You can skip the ones who live with mamma.
If he wants you to hurry up and quit talking or makes you feel like you
can't do nothing right, skip him too ladies or you gonna be bawling your eyes out over him.
I find it a bit hypocritical that I talk about "feeling" all the time,
I'm as numb as they get,
The ones that say they're fine,
Because we don't know how to explain something we haven't acquired yet.
I can't love you or hate you,
I don't have it in me to feel extremes,
You won't have what you need when it's due,
I have a weird way of letting off steam.
I can listen, I can "sympathize",
I can make you feel good- it'll all seem true,
It's unnerving you'll soon realize,
It's definitely me, not you.
I feel very hopeless,
I feel the strength oozing out of me,
Pooling up on my bathroom floor- staring up mockingly.
I feel the vibrations of your voice, loud & clear,
They always know where to hit me, just like a spear.
I feel as if I do not belong anywhere I go,
I'm a laughing stock & guess who's the main attraction at this wicked show?
I feel my "loved ones" drifting apart,
I was your rock but reality has crushed me down with a mighty start.
I feel the non believing eyes boring down,
None of you care as deeply as you claim, you'd rather I swallow my misery & hurriedly drown.
I feel you changing your mind about me,
I'm not the person you cleverly made me want to be.
I feel the stomps of your feet though I am thousands of miles far,
You make yourself believe you provided the necessary with a house & a car.
I feel the love I have for you slowly disintegrating,
It's funny how it's your world that is now changing.
I feel myself going crazy, completely insane,
& you're the only one who can carry that blame.
I feel the way this is going to end,
So let me get the blade, my old friend.