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.
Love contemplates creating the end of the world.
Between two poets.
Each with banners unfurled.
The madder it was, the madder it is
Was undeniably so real.
Love crucified lady and gent.
Everything was totally meant.
Blazing soul, dripping in the mid-day sun.
Now waiting impatiently to die.
In broken voice with sodden eyes.
He cried and held and held some more.
Wanted his love not to go.
Back in her domain.
Upon papyrus scroll she wrote.
Okay poetic imagination.
Papyrus just really tatty old piece of paper.
A letter, which became a portent of almost certain doom.
Weighed a tonne inside his head.
So still in bits she sits.
Wishing that she hadn't sent.
The letter led to her demise.
Still she sits and f**king cries.
when I was a young kid there was no room in our house so I had to sleep in the crawlspace above the house
It was winter and the crawlspace was uninsulated and there was
a small old space heater from the 1970’s that didn’t do anything
unless you were right up next to it. Sometimes I would get up
next to it and the sleeping bag would start to burn on the edges
melt. I’d wake up and move away from it because it would burn
the sleeping bag. One night it was very cold but I didn’t turn on
the heater because I didn’t want to melt a giant hole in the
sleeping bag for good and maybe burn myself. That night
while I was sleeping a brown recluse spider bit
me on the hip. It must crawled in to the sleeping
bag with me because it was cold
The next morning the bite had swollen
up like half a golf ball and in the middle was
a sort of purple spot where the skin was most affected by
necrosis and that spot already looked like it wanted to let
out all the pus inside. I knew that there was pus inside
because it had swollen so much and sort of felt solid but
squishy. I didn’t do anything about it that day
because I didn’t know what kind of a bite it was. The next night
was very cold because it was early february but I didn’t want to
melt my sleeping bag again. The temperature gauge in the crawl
space said it was 34 because some of the heat from the
house did leak in to the crawlspace because it was uninsulated.
I had lots of clothes on but only had a pair of baggy
jeans and my legs were bare under that. That night the
same spider must have crawled in to the sleeping bag
up my pants leg. The next morning the bite from two
nights before had gone to hell because I hadn’t done
anything to treat it right away and I had rolled on to
it the next night and it had turned yellow and purple
and the skin on the whole area was necrotic but on top
of the first bite was a second bite that had started to swell
up as well. I thought this was funny because I was young
and nasty stuff is funny when you’re young.
I sort of squeezed at the fleshy mass and a bit of
liquid came out but not a whole lot of liquid.
There was obviously an obstruction. So I took
a metal needle and heated it up with a lighter to
make it easier to pierce the skin. When it
was red hot I pushed right in to
the top of the hole where the purple was and
it started letting out little bits of pus. I wasn’t
satisfied with the amount it was producin
g but since the hole from the needle went in really deep
I figured a lot more would come out if I pushed on
either side of the lump. At first there was mostly
light red blood and some white pus that was watery
and it sort of ran out. No matter how hard
I pushed it only a little bit of puss would come out.
I left it alone but came back to it later on and by
this time a scab had formed over the top of the hole
. I ripped this off and continued to push on to the
sides of the lump which by this time had lost some
of its original form because the skin was dead
on and around the lump. It had caved in like little
indentations of my fingers where I had pressed
but no liquid came out. The second bite had taken
care of any skin on the first bite that might have
missed the necrosis and even it had its own little lump
coming out of the first. My entire leg was sore
because the muscle tissue was necrotic deep down.
By the next day the skin had died and changed in such a
way I never thought I would ever see a part of myself.
It had turned a dark yellow and the purple was a
solid purple that didn’t mix with the yellow. As
I scratched at it, the skin peeled off in layers and
I kept scratching at the skin and it kept peeling off.
It got to a point where I knew I could just bust
the whole thing open if I really squeezed at it and
it all just came out. The blood in the middle
was blackish and the pus was thick and lumpy
like oatmeal. There was lots and lots of it in there.
After that the spider bit me again on the same hip
but about a month later. By this time the first bites
had healed to an indented scar where the skin had healed
but not come back. The third bite wasn’t as bad as the first
but it still died like the first. Spiders are ok because they don’
t bite people who didn’t have it coming. As much as I’d like to
think I could have prevented that from happening I
would gladly let the spider in to my sleeping bag again
if it was cold but with no guarantee I wouldn’t roll on to it and I say this with warm feelings.
I heared an old dog singin':
"T.S. Eliot sleeps alone in his
Tower of stone.
"Ezra found the key
But let it slip into the well
Now he's too dumb to tell.
"Blind dogs howl
At the break of dawn;
"Poets can't seem
To leave well enough alone;
"Lovers hang on like
They don't belong;
"They slide down the surface
Of a dark and tangled night;
Crash into each others arms,
The only known well of light;
"Lonely ones fall at the feet of
Terrified that she will some
"They curl sleepily
On Morpheus' back
In private cells".
We write of vaginas and old Morris Minor's,
Of flowers and mud.
Of crosses and blood.
Where angels and devils cross paths in our pens.
Temples and stables.
Fiction and fables.
We lay cards open wide,
splayed over our tables.
Sometimes of crying and lying and dying.
Of love that we found.
That which we have lost.
But we will keep trying.
No denying at all.
We're having a ball.
We pen tales of terror in world's mad distortion.
As the world scrapes nearer to each days abortion.
Write of myth and orange pith.
We scrawl what we scrawl in the hope that it's real.
Or maybe its what we saw in minds eyes.
In a darkened world of what ifs and whys.
One crazy man and one crazier chick.
All we both say hey, hey.
When time she merits.
Whatever fits at that time.
Of maladies and passions sprouts.
In words of others voice,
Never always mother tongue
Hell how we do play.
As to the Gods and Goddesses of poetry
We the two of the twenty do pray.
VVV Glory to poetry no matter what way!
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Earth tilts her head
In a weary daze
And tries to recall
The celestial blaze
From which she was born
And took her place
Aside the stars,
It's all a haze.
For on that day
She was young and pure
And nothing cruel
Could crawl ashore
To scourge the skies,
Bright beams alone
Filled fresh new eyes
Yes, the sun gods rays
Beat down with might
And burnt away the
But earth came to see
They served only to light
The terrible things
That time had made
Sharp things, harsh
things; poison and blades
To taint poor earth
So she would degrade
Peace could only be
Found at the days end
When earth met with her
Glowing silver friend
Who commanded the tides
To swish and swoon,
Earth was always in awe of
The beautiful moon
O, Earth has changed
over Many long years ,
As an old thing withers
A new one appears
But the waves remain
A sea of tears,
For her heart
Is trapped beneath layers
And if you listen you
will hear her moan...
'these flames that smoulder
Char my core.
As time unfolds,
It pains me more.
All I can do is look above
And scour for some
i saw the sun rise and set on your skin as you told me stories, old, real ones. we were at the beach, this is a landlocked country.
your cigarette is dying now. but you have a pack on your pocket, of the company the same name as my father's. i want to laugh whenever i see it. i could name a few things the same color as the dull golden it is and write a poem, but that wouldn't make you stop smoking, would it?
now you're driving a red car. i'm riding shotgun. you drive, quiet. i can only see one half of your face. we seldom speak when i see you. it's not a highway where we're driving, more like the roads in this city carelessly stitched together with those in perhaps, rome.
there's a bend in the road. my cousin taps at the window, it rolls down. he wants to know if i want a visa to paris. you look at me. i look at you. we haven't spoken yet. i open the door and leave with my cousin to get the visa to paris.
we're driving, again. but it's a jeep this time and she's here too. the road is empty, it's the youngest highway this valley knows of. you stop at a bridge. there are old, dark skinned women from the hills, surrounding the jeep. they're tapping at all our windows. i'm looking at how beautiful the gold bangles look on their wrists.
we're in a huge empty room. there are three shower booths, and a single black leather sofa facing each one. she's sleeping on the third one. i'm watching her sleep from the first one. she's beautiful. i see you leaning against the booth in front of me with your arms crossed. i wonder who you were staring at.
and each time, i woke up wishing the pillow lines on my cheeks were from the creases in your shirt and not the pillows.
i stopped running away in my sleep after i kept seeing you.
Pretend what you will~
Truth be told~
Why do u want to live like this~
When your getting kinda old?
You'll never find the love that you seek~
Your searching technique is pathetic and weak.
Just be honest with yourself and let your heart be free~
Deep down you know you were made for me.
I want you too I will admit~
But, I'm getting tired of waiting and am ready to quit!
These young and new hands
Feel a forever weight of a ring.
They feel the roughness
Of a mans body.
Of clinging to his hand and
My hands, one moment squeezing
The living shit out of everything
Is now sweetly caressing
A newborn babe.
I feel my hands hold it
And so cautiously,
And that is how
My hands dealt with him
For his life.
When he was sick
I'd rub his tummy
Or hold him
Or hug him
And feel my hands clutch
The safety grip
In the car as I taught him to drive.
Feel my hands holding onto a
Red graduation cap.
My hands feel a new babe,
And my hands help out
To take care of her.
They would hold her
Until her father
And my son
Took her away into his.
And I feel her grow up
With every hug
And every pat on the knee.
And I'm so busy
Working with my hands
I don't notice them
Until I am failing to
Open a simple bottle for Advil.
I notice them.
And their veins
And their knuckles
And their soft old skin.
I feel their tiredness
And see their old spots.
So busy with anything else in this world,
I didn't realize I was
2 steps forward
4 steps back
All fun and games
Till someone gets hurt
Shall we play a game,
With no return?
Go places we've never been
Who gives a damn if we don't make it?
That's why we do it
Test the limits
Risk it all
Just to see who would care
Just to reassure ourselves
That if we're gone
They would send a prayer
Let's go there
Leave at the crack of dawn
That's what we'll be
You and I
I hate you most
That's what we are
They say it's an allusion
All in your head
They drive you crazy
Until your dead
That's were I'm headed
And your coming with me
Because if I'm the car
Then you're the key
So lets go to a new nowhere
Start over until that shit gets to old
And we'll keep going
Just you and me