When the anniversary hurts you
This does not only mean you are hurting
But also means when you loved
you loved sincerely!

Your heaven has failed me
On the days when I felt loading up the dish washer was a
Personal assault on my psyche
Your god has-
Run me over with his fists too many times
And made me believe it was paternal pat’s on the back
All the-
Pain I was feeling,
You carry the gravel in your teeth
To make sure its full of grit,
When you speak,
I say;
“you’re full of shit”

You say im just weak for the things
That have made me unholy.
I am weak for the things that have unbroken me.
These words are shrapnel
You let them sink into our skin there is no more dirt to chew
I will spend my last moments
Holding onto the fucking noose
I’m going down swinging
And if that means I’ll hang
So be it
There are worst ways to die

I know
Because I’ve died before

Nothing special happens. Ya’ll can stop dreaming.

Kindness isn’t supposed to taste so bitter
Being saved
Isn’t supposed to hurt so much
You-
Never knew how much the night sky despised the daylight
Until you moved to a country where it gets longer every year
You never knew how kind
The sun was to your skin-
Ive got tan lines where my noose used to swing
It took me three years to untie myself
And I still have scars

Whether they will be there or not in a few more years
I guess ill stick around and see just
How much ive
lost

Ah, Jacob
I love you
(look! I have personalized my poem! But alas, that means I have isolated
the audience.
By mentioning your name-
such a wonderful name, it reminds me of church bells
Doritos
and a good shower after a long run-
by mentioning your name, I have ensured
that those not in love with a Jacob-
and I pity them, for if they do not have one, they should seriously consider finding one-
Anyway
By mentioning you name, my love
I have ensured that those not in love with a Jacob
will never understand the soaring
joy
sorrow
trust
security
never understand what it is they have just read).

It has been said that religion is a crutch. Well then my friends, let us praise those who only need one crutch to get around!

I fear that even two crutches would not suffice for me. Even standing still or walking, the result would be an unceremonious fall. Although walking is a hallmark of humanities' ancestors, I myself would need the aid of a wheelchair.

Let us also not forget those who have no help at all. For some, this means they can walk tall. For others not so gifted by fate, fortune or heritage, it means they must crawl.

So I, from my perspective of low-position and station, whether in need of the wheelchair or the rough ground to crawl upon, find it relatively inane and banal to critique my fellow invalids, cripples, and broken souls. Alas this wheelchair is no mean platform to sit in judgement from; excepting for hypocrisy, that acquaintance to us all.

So should we all point at each others infirmities, shortcomings, and private tragedies, waving our crutches in accusation at the prosthetic limbed protagonist before us? Or should we silently be thankful if we have enough to get by, - crutches, chairs, slings and all?

Perhaps I miss the subtle verve and nuance of these careful considerations, but is the bottle, the pill, the embrace of another, the painter in rapt repose, the musician playing away, no more than a diversion of differences from sling to crutch to chair? Who is the least crippled seems a game most perverse to play with a crowd looking for a cure.

Perhaps my betters can explain how to judge others so swiftly, truly, and justly? Pointing out so and so's prior sins and what's wrong with them. I am but a poor soul who simply resorts to love, lacking the telepathy to read the hearts and minds and know the travails and tribulations of the unknown cripple we castigate.

So please, weary traveler,  let me give you the wheelchair and I will keep the crutch in return, but do not fret, I only carry the crutch to give to the first person I find crawling.

Only then, needing to walk but having no aid, will I finally learn how to choose love over fear and strive for truth as I am unmoved, slowly wasting away.

You dirty rat is
tu rattus turpis in Latin, and
tum podem extulit horridulum
means you are talking shit.
And if you want to let it all hang out,
you shout totum dependeat!
Stercus accidit means shit happens,
and I wonder why those gladiators
didn’t give the Emperor the finger sign
instead of saying morituri te salutant.
For those about to die, and full of dread,
there would be nothing absurd
about flipping the bird,
and saying aves conversio instead.

Mike T Minehan

Marmite! (Veggie Mite) Peanut Butter!


Marmite and peanut butter,

My God what a terrible thought,

Both truly vile,

Pungent,

Repugnant,

Foul in texture,

Reviled in taste!

Never have I ever bought,

Incredible how some can love 'em,

I can't bear the taste,

Smell makes me feel really ill,

Worse than any bitter pill!

Please don't make me a sarnie,

Not with these,

No not ever,

By all means spend your time with me,

Please to you I thee beseech,

That these two dreadful foods so vile,

Hit the dustbin in big style!
By ladylivvi1



© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Your name means nothing to me
I let go of all the bad
Yet all the lessons remain
You taught me not to trust blindly when in love
And to not love blindly when you do not trust
I'm trying to start over
But your lessons remain
Should I thank you?
Or are they just another one of your curses?