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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Breaking up is hard to do
       let's rise take it easy
       Waking- up don't be lazy
My morning glory spiritual stretch
Soothe me like a tranquilizer
His words are my pacifier
The shooting star sprinkling shot

Stars work dot to dot
They connect get rid of all
broken heart subjects
Soothe me star even if there
is nothing to do

We need to do something
Earth wind and fire just
knock-me-out
Don't lock me and throw away
the star key is it going to Key- West
 Daylight no broken light in my
        Star stuff- sight
Light to the dark twilight

Those zillions of stars my
eyes closed I suppose
Take another look lovely rose
The same spot share the good stuff
I saw the soothing words
Star pointed toes who knows
Even
or to out-win the odds?

Not the starry night
Going through something
It's been a hard day night
One star light years to fight
Breathe in and soothe me
It was up to me not to blind me
My cool spirit meditation table

The New York soothing menu
Rendezvous all talk but delicious
She is tough walking
The hardest avenue
The *Positive me
even if its the
broken up me that's the only me
No one can take his place to soothe me

French fondue it suits her another clue
Red White moody blues the statue
Do you all agree? Another feel good
shopping spree are the stars true
I cannot even say soothing-word
Your home is your oasis love stuff
                Venus

Sooth me star stuff no one to minus

The hard stuff is to better yourself
The feel-good smooth flowing
Even if you missed your star
You're the no star he's is always late
Soothe me star may be my fate
Cafe warm running lattte late

The forever flight hit so hard
  Got_  Thrown brick harder
They say remorse is the
poison of life
And divorce could be the best
change in someone's life

OH! Lord The new? Hard cushion/night

"The winding rough road see the light"
*It may be tough but make it good deed
Athletic Girly curve walk
The pep talk she had the tough birth
The Preppy he's training the puppy stuff
You don't have to be a star it doesn't matter

Who you are
Never get in the middle of a dare
Show the whole world you care
Puff the magic dragon
Harder side of logic is the mission
Been Moonstruck light flick
Both mouths a volcano

Hard star stuff ham and swiss hero
Exploring new stuff
Please take it from pointed star
beware?
She walks like she is hot stuff
Those color forms of love stuff
Things and stuff
Stuff and things

Walking through the end of
the exit
It a hard position of the angle
Tough to be single even more
to deal with lotsa stuff to be married
Being the first online
I am getting a handle on my stuff

Indie Pop like Ice Queen Pop
Going mainstream
She's Brook long stream
He's under the influence
She doesn't nearly have
the up to par patience
Gifts of curiosity

Adjusting to reality
Hard life too much focus
On our happiness
He's coming home
breadwinner of money
Just one loaf of
bread she blossoms
Disavows humanity

The harder the words
How it challenges our sanity

Dark crayon hard stuff
Heavy_Rough__Tough
Wild Hawaii Say Hi to all our
blissfully but soothing hearts
She is like a hard sandpaper
He is so cool reading his
worldly carefree life

He is inside the newspaper
Big Ben London guard
How mindset like Hallmark card
Too much Holiday Turkey going
****** tunes when there is I tunes
So powerless word hard ingenious
Be thankful for what you have
But feeling too much
of the dry spell that rain fall
Going to that heavenly gifted secret
Like an Elephant, you are

the tough one the smart one magnet
No-one is perfect to be the
brilliant one
The star way of the fantasy
Nothing fancy doesn't make you jump
Presidential Trump Roger Rabbit
My lucky tower rabbit foot
Between a hard rock meets her sexuality

Having bad luck long shot solitude
Hallucinations all dark things hurt
My imagination world is sometimes
belly overstuffed Santa Claus
I love the hard candy bitter- sweet metal
Who gets the Metals and honors
The Terminators better leaders

PJ-Clarkes Princeton NJ
Superman Clark Kents
We need more therapy events
Princeton pancakes no remakes
And tons of maple syrup
***** Tonk women at the rodeo
Her horse lucky hoof sooth me

Stars real stuff
New York City roof ruff ruff
A hard rock and critters
And then you wake
back to the hard stuff

Soothe your pain the goodness of the rain
Hard life or its way too easy what is truly better I know my moods change in this hell of a gun weather. Let's keep our spirit high and heal our minds to get better don't you want a better life or something in the middle of the road make sure you don't kiss deeply inside of a hard binding book of the fairy tale. You are worth so much more than kissing a toad but we are talking about the hard stuff please go easy on me
Kunzite Hewitt Aug 2010
First, I would like to introduce Grayasety. She was a young girl, had soft strands of medium-short caramel hair, and she had green-blue eyes that looked like miniature earths. She was indeed a pretty girl and she was of average height, and had a healthy body. She also had a slight southern drawl; her mother was from Texas. She loved going on boat voyages as her father was the captain of a ship named Gray Asety, named after Grayesty, so she was often training to go on voyages.
                  One morning, just like any other ordinary morning, Grayasety left her house for the next-door stable with her baby sitter, Kinberly, which was part of her father’s crew.  Today was the big day, the day when Grayasety was going to go on a voyage with her father as an official crewmember. Today was Grayasety’s 13th birthday; today was the day when she was old enough to work on her father’s ship! Therefore, she gaily whistled and skipped along the road. It had always been her dream to work on her father’s ship, and today, finally, her dream was coming true. When she got to the stable she blew her small, pink whistle that, to human ears would make no sound, and like every morning her best friend, (which had the ability to morph into animals) trotted tiredly out of the stable in the form of a beautiful brown mare. The huge animal yawned and said, “Morning Kin!” And then addressing Grayasety she said, “ Well, well, little missy what do you want me to be today?” Today Grayasety wanted Mila to be a green parrot, Grayasety was obsessed in the color green, and Mila had reluctantly obeyed, the trio set off for the fresh smelling bay.
Kinberly, and Mila worked on the Gray Asety. Mann Forumest, or Captain Daddy as Grayasety called him had met Grayasety’s mom working as a crewmember on the Majesty, a steamboat. Grayasety’s mother, Magnolia Scott Forumest was the assistant cook. They married, but kept their jobs until one day when Grayasety was about five, the Sea Bandits, a notorious group of pretty woman stealers, kidnapped Her mother.
                        While on sea, Grayasety shared a rather large suite in the ship with her father. In the Bedroom were two desks, one big and one small, and in the corner was a bunk bed, the top bunk badly painted in green and the bottom bunk still bearing its natural mahogany color. Grayasety was sitting in her little green desk, scribbling madly in her deep green diary. Grayasety *** a liking of scribbling and those who have know her long enough could read her scribbles like one would writing. She could read and write although she was nowhere near a strait A student.
                   After a while Grayasety decided to bother her father and, forgetting to switch into her lime green boots, shinnyed up the main stairs to the deck in her faded fluffy mint green slippers. Mila, perched comfortably on Grayasety’s shoulder, started telling her that she was wearing her slippers when Grayasety shoved a faded green pacifier in Mila’s mouth; Grayasety often did this to keep Mila quiet.
Mila, not enjoying the dusty, stale taste of the pacifier unhappily decided to keep her mouth shut until Grayasty got in a better mood. In truth Grayasety was in a marvelous mood and rather liked shoving pacifiers in Mila’s mouth. As the girl got closer to the deck, she started to hear chanting from the kind crew. She especially heard Kinberly’s familiar raspy voice chanting,” Laaa dee daaa, the Gray A rolls along,” and as she emerged to the *****, wet deck she noticed that her father was talking to someone else already. “Botherin’ will have to wait some,” she whispered to Mila. Then she took the pacifier out of Mila’s mouth and scolded,” why didn’t you tell me that I was still wearin’ my slippers eh? Wanted to make me look like an idiot?” Mila simply rolled her eyes.
                    Right then, Captain Daddy, apparently finishing his conversation, came over to the pair and said affectionately, “How are my darlings doin’ today?” Mila especially enjoyed this for Captain Daddy always gave a loving stoke on her back and a whole chocolate chip cookie if he had one. Although Grayasety always stole some of the cookie Mila was happy enough with half. Grayasety, on the other hand was happy with a whole cookie so she begged Captain Daddy to give her another one. Captain Daddy gave her another cookie but chided her not to steal any more from Mila.
                    After the lecture on not stealing other people’s food, Grayasety clambered up the crow’s nest and almost knocked over Franz, a tall, but gaunt boy a couple years older then Grayasty getting in. ”Anythin’ unusual yet?” asked Grayasety hopefully. “Nope,” answered the calm boy quietly. ”Hi Franz. Do you have any cookies?” asked Mila mockingly, Franz just laughed and said,” If I had any I would of eaten it by now! Gray, can you get me somethin’ from the kitchen?”.
                   Grayasety got Franz a basket of food and got her self the same amount; Grayasety was basically always hungry, and had a little picnic on the roomy crow’s nest. After they finished their meal Grayasety decided to let Franz rest and did lookout. Franz had a small room to himself, which was about the size of a normal bathroom with all the stuff taken out. In the corner was an old, squeaky army cot and next to it was a rotund desk with a stack of blank paper, a jar of Indian ink, and a fountain pen laid precariously on it.
                    Franz was quite a writer and he spent his free time eating, sleeping, or writing and unlike Grayasety he actually wrote not scribbled. He was working on a story about gargoyles that came to life at night. It was an interesting story, really. He would of loved to stop working on the Gray Asety and go get his books published but he stayed for his family was a poor one and needed his help to make a living and also, Captain Forumest provided free paper. And, his daughter was the first friend he ever had; Franz was convinced that she was the best one.
                   Grayasety enjoyed being on ships. She liked feeling the cold air rush through her hair and she enjoyed the great view of the vast sea that surrounded her. She even liked the feeling of being so small compared to the humpbacks that swam by. She thought that the ship food was good, and she felt that the sea was truly where she belonged. Grayasety was very cranky when she was not at sea, (though she did like their big, ocean green house), so her father tried to include her on as many voyages as he could.
                     Captain Daddy, or Mann as I will call him spent most of day in a booth on the deck. He often worried about his daughter’s mental health (even though it was completely unnecessary). He talked to Grayasety’s doctor about this and Dr.Metalos, Grayasety’s doctor, gave them a list of mental deceases she could have, but none of them seemed like some thing she would have. Mann was sure that his daughter did not have one sickness; Much Too Much Time At The Sea Syndrome. If any one knew where Grayasety belonged it was Mann and he knew perfectly well that his daughter would go insane if she wasn’t at sea for too long. For one thing she preferred to sleep on her uncomfortable bunk at sea rather then on her fluffy green bed as soft as a feather at home.
                        Right then the ship did a tummy- flopping lurch and knocked off the map and compass from Mann’s desk, which interrupted his thoughts for a while. Below deck Franz’s desk toppled over, and Franz accidentally made a long and ugly scribble across his writing and on the crow’s nest Grayasety was having trouble standing up and she almost vomited right onto Kinberly’s hair. This was rare for Grayasety for she lived on the sea and was used to lurches; she had once survived a shipwreck, which explains her golden earring on her right earlobe.
                   That night as Grayasety lay in bed Mann quietly crept out of his bunk and scurried up the stairs to the deck. He wanted some time to himself. Ahead was Cape Horn; a very dangerous place where so many ships had sunk it could fill the biggest port in the world, but more personally, this was near the Sea Bandits main head quarters, 8 years ago the beautiful Magnolia Scott Forumest was captured here. Even though it was impossible in the foggy mist, Mann tried to make out the cave that marked the entrance to the headquarters. Only few people knew this entrance, and publicity stated that it was a “mere mystery” why most captives were capture near Cape Horn. Mann felt a chill run down his spine and then he thought he felt someone’s hand grab his shoulder. He looked down and saw what he dreaded most; a hand tinged with brown firmly held his shoulder.
                      Grayasety woke up feeling wonderful but apparently Mila didn’t. She kept screeching something about Captain Daddy being kidnapped and soon she found that what Mila had just screeched in her ear was true. She stormed into Franz’s cabin and told him what she discovered and they soon agreed to do what no one else wanted them to do; steer the boat right into the Sea Bandits’ headquarters and take back what, and who was theirs no matter how hard it could be.
                      Grayasety had Franz steer the boat and she herself navigated, Kin was lookout and the rest of the crew helped out. Franz dropped the passengers off at Puerto, and Mila morphed back into a human; what she really is, and helped out. Separated from the frenzy, Grayastey was quietly thinking to herself. She wondered why the Sea Bandits captured her father. They were well known for capturing pretty woman but not average looking men. Just then she heard a knock on the door. “Grayasety?” said the raspy voice of Kin. “There ya are. I just thought ya might wanna know why ya daddy was captured.” “Can you please tell me,” asked Grayasety, trying not to sound too eager. “Well rememba when ya daddy would be gone when ya woke up at mid night an’ I told ya that he had gone to the store to get some groceries? Well if you had thought some you woulda noticed that the store was closed.” Grayasety interrupted Kin in mid-sentence and said irritably, “Of course I rememba. Just get to the point Kin!” Kin flinched at Grayasety’s frustration and mumbled,” Well ya daddy was a spy. One of the best ones at that. He did all he could to stop organized crime, an’ he specialized in the Sea Bandit’s. They captured him ‘cause one less police the better for them.” Grayasety sat with her mouth hanging wide open. She never imagined that her father was a spy. But now every thing made sense. “ Sorry I didn’t tell ya before. Ya fatha simply wouldn’t allow it.” Kin apologized. Grayasety managed a squeak and then Kin left her.
                      After she repeated this to Franz and then Mila, Grayasety went down to her bedroom, she hated having to be near Her father’s belongings but she hated having people see her crying much more and cry she did, leaving her father’s mattress a soggy mess. Then she decided to clean that mess up for if they rescued her father she was sure he did not want to sleep in a soggy bed. Noticing it, she picked up her dad’s picture of her dad and mom’s wedding and became suddenly aware of how much she looked like her dad. The hair, the eyes, the quirky grin, every thing. Her mother had soft blonde hair and violet eyes that almost made you smell the pungent smell of lavenders and had a beautiful smile with bright red lips. All in all she was the most beautiful woman Grayasety had ever seen. She almost made Grayasety feel jealous.
                     “Hey! Gray. So are we gonna bring any weapons? Kin was a whole chest full of ‘em!” Said the distinctively low voice of Franz. “Well, I dunno. I suppose we should bring a couple guns. Always nice to be well prepared.” Replied Grayasety.

                     Franz was on lookout when the carrier pigeon came. The note it had on its leg was from Mann. It said:

Dear Grayasety and friends,

Do not come to save me. I’m with my wife in their dungeon but they want you guys to come too. You see, I’m like a bait. You’re the fishies. They want to erase all traces of the Forumest family. That means they have to dispose of those who would remember them. I will manage okay. Kin, Please take Grayasety and Franz home and forget about me for you and the children’s sake. Grayasety, I love you. Dispose all of my belongings and try to tell yourself that Kin is your mother. Believe me. It’s all for the better. Franz, I meant to tell you but your parents caught tuberculosis and died the other day. Your sister committed suicide soon after. Please take care of Grayasety.

             Mann

                    The trio stood silent for a long moment and then without warning Franz burst into tears, and scrambled to his cabin. Kin and Grayasety looked at each other sadly and went to their cabins themselves. Grayasety tried to sleep that night but images of Mann and her mother strapped up in chains kept her staring into the darkness with wide eyes. She reached over and got her personal music player, trying to distract herself but after a few seconds she turned it off again, for she could not bear listening to the lyrics; “It’s past midnight and something evil’s lurking 'round the dark” of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.
            The next morning, Mila and Kin steered the boat near the cave that marked the entrance to the Sea Bandits secret headquarters. Mila then morphed into a seagull and flew into the old, damp cave. From a safe distance Grayasety and her crew awaited Mila to return with some news. After swooping into the creepy cave Mila found the opening to the headquarters and perched on a ledge near it. There, she morphed into a rat, and scurried up into the opening.

                 After crawling along several hallways, Mila came across a steel door bolted very firmly marked “CELLS”. Luckily Mila was small enough to crawl under it. Scurrying along the bureau of prisons, Mila finally saw a cell with Mann and a stunningly beautiful woman captured in it. Mila slipped between the bars and trying not to gain the woman’s attention for fear that she would scream, climbed the steep hill of Mann’s arm to try to reach his ear. “Mann?? Don’t make any sound OK?? I’m Mila. I’m the rat on your shoulder. Kin, Grayasety, and Franz say they miss you a lot.” Whispered Mila. Then she saw a humongou
A short story instead of a poem, but I hope you enjoy!
Any corrections, edits, suggestions etc. and greatly aprecciated!
Alyson Lie Feb 2016
After Abie falls asleep I drive home
and leave him in the car long enough

to take the groceries in, then
come back out and carry him

upstairs--noticing, as I lay him
down on his bed, that somewhere

along the way he's lost his pacifier.
This is serious. It could be

anywhere. And he needs it.
I remind myself to look later,

to retrace my steps from his
bedroom door, back down

the stairs and outside to the car.
I go to the kitchen and begin putting

groceries away. The spice rack falls
off the wall. A partially open jar

of cayenne pepper spills into a bowl
of shelled pecans. As I throw

the pecans away, I stop at
the kitchen window and look out

and there, lying on the black
asphalt tongue of the driveway,

I see Abie's pacifier... Small...
Pale... Soft... Like a newborn ear.
WE HAVE TO FACE THE TRUTH IN LIFE, AND NOT USE A PACIFY.  IF YOU FAIL TO GET PROPER NUTRIENTS, BE SURE YOU'RE GOING TO DIE.
THE PACIFIER  MAY LAST FOR A MOMENT, BUT IT WILL NOT TAKE AWAY HUNGER.  THIS WAS PLACED QUICKLY IN YOUR MOUTH, WHEN YOU WERE A LITTLE YOUNGER.
YOU MUST ALWAYS REALIZE, LIFE IS TRULY REAL.  YOU MUST STAND UP TO REALITY, AND NOT BE AFRAID TO YIELD.
YOU MAY USE A PACIFIER, TO TRY TO HIDE ALL FEAR.  THERE COMES A TIME TO BE BRAVE, TO THOSE YOU LOVE SO DEAR.
BY, AUTHOR & POET, SANDRA JUANITA NAILING
Heirlooms

Jun 2017

One day, parkouring through my uncles two story apartment,

I was drawn naturally to his desktop computer

upon which I found his OkCupid Dating profile.

I don't remember his username, Or anything about the site really,

But I remember the head-shot of a beautiful woman

framed above the desk

the sterile grey Rubbermaid totes behind me like caskets, 

How they made even the hardwood floors

look like they were holding in the dead.

For my Grandmothers birthday

my family gathered at Captain Newicks

her favorite seafood restaurant.

My uncle flirted with the waitress.

I don't think I've ever gone to a restaurant with my uncle where he

didn't flirt with the waitress.

Captain Newicks went out of business shortly after that dinner

followed shortly by my grandmothers life.

the relationship between my uncle and that waitress expired well

before both my Grandmother or Captain Newicks.

I remember asking my grandmother about my Uncle.

Tarots Fool would have predicted

my grandmothers eyelids

a silent prayer before her words.

He had two children by his first wife,

keeps a portrait of her above his desk.

She was a blessing on the family

Selfless amd loved by every one.

She took her own life

Spread her wings to break free from the cage He kept her locked in.

He buried his heart in her casket,

motorcycles, empty bottles

had a third child by a second wife

who buried her heart in drugs and strangers.

Amanda was 6 years old when her mother died.

my uncles wife. Her brother josh was 3

when she died my uncle wanted to put them both up for adoption

he didn't.

Their mother died on the 20th of September

a week after her 25th birthday.

their mother once bought a bunch of carnations

with a dead rose in the middle

and said "it looks like I'm dead".

she took a bottle of pills before going to a chinese restaurant

went out as a family

and collapsed at the table.

she was rushed to the hospital

she didn't make it.

their mother wasn't happy

her and my uncle were getting divorced at the time

lived in the same house that I grew up in.

when my uncle told the kids mommy wasn't coming home

my mother was 17 

and there to see all of it.

When my mother was 17 

she had to watch her baby cousins be told their mother had died.

When my grandmother passed.

grief bounced off of my uncles callouses

ricocheted to my cousins, robbed 

twice now of a selfless mother.

The tragedies in my family

have always enthralled me.

like shakespeare sonnets

I breath them into my faithless nights

tap an extra dream-catcher on my bedpost

in space of a prayer.

When The hearth-fire of our family dimmed 

a tealight in my grandmothers eyes.

grayed, Glossed.

she could no longer crochet 

one big dysfunctional quilt, 

together from our families yarn.

without her needle, 

I was determined to watch how our life spun forward.

The next time I saw my uncle,

He offered me a job.

Thick mosquito blinded us as we carried our sweat 

with Rubbermaid totes into a blue two story home 

deep in the evergreen thickets of Maine.

a tall white fan rotated slowly back and fourth 

Cooling the wet patches on our T-shirts while my Uncle 

flirted with the landlord

I still remember when my uncle tossed me the truck keys

the look of terror I gave him

How easy it was for him to trust

I guess when your heart is buried in a casket 

you stop worrying who has your keys.

It makes me remember

when my daughter asked for my keys 

I would sit her in the drivers seat

watch her pretend to drive.

I loved imagining her free

living how she wanted.

I still wouldn't give her my keys.

she would turn my car into a casket.

It makes me remember

when that little girls mother asked me to drive

My words spun portcullises

prison bars forged in anxiety

scaffolding out of latex secrets

Glued with siren smiles, pacifier kisses

denying cigarette smoke on her breath

fueling infernos in my head.

when my uncle handed me his keys without hesitation.

my religion was insulted by his tough skin.

I felt his simple kindness 

like a splash of holy water. 

saw in me, the devil 

caging a woman like property

holding her hostage 

out of fear.

And yes 

when She could drive she left me

And yes 

when she left me she took her daughter.

every morning 

cereal bowl of pills, I **** myself

keep a poster of my mothers face 

covered in bruises 

behind the tiny orange bottles 

to remind me why I do it.

wake up twice, 

first as Phoenix, dying

second as a watcher, writer and admirer.

callouses are not to protect us from the outside at all.

Callouses harden our bodies into caskets.

Hold in all our dead.
OnlyEggy Mar 2014
Go to sleep Child,
It's the midnight hour
You were sleeping soundly
but that slumber has soured
Here's a pacifier, a blanket,
a song hummed down low
One more kiss and
off to sleep you go

Go to sleep child,
It's two in the morn'
You were sleeping soundly
but now you howl like a horn
Here's a lullaby, sung by nightlight
and a pacifier in my hand
Once more before you succumb
to the Sandman's sand

Go to sleep child,
It's four, just before dawn
Am I supposed to assume
you're a hungry little fawn?
Here's a warm bottle, clean swaddle
and an elephant burp cloth
It's only a matter of time before you're
moving slower than a sloth

Go to sleep child,
It's no longer night
We both look exhausted
Oh what a sight!
Here's a blanket, a pacifier, a soiled swaddle;
Sandman's sand, a burp cloth, and a ***** bottle
I'm staying home today 'n I don't know about you
But I say lets take a nap and sleep till this afternoon
(AIP) Dedicated to Matthew Griego. Go to sleep son.
I.
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II.
Is and declare.
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His tyrant.
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These state has god and an decent all an armies;
Has tenure example publish;
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Combined render all are alter of of with.
To raising usurpations.

III.
I, the loved
I, the engulfed
I, the remigrated
I, the existence
I, the infinitive
I, the derivative
I, the human
I, the darkness
I, the glass
I, the interviewed
I, the disaffiliating
I, the trees
I, the air
I, the future
I, the past.
I, the present.
I, the moment.
I, the now
I, the dead
I, the alive
I, the opponent
I, the ally
I, the language
I, the idea
I, the universe
I, the cosmos
I, the sensual
I, the lover
I, the writer
I, the poet
I, the artist
I, the fearful
I, the form
I, the painting
I, the paper
I, the words
I, the letters
I, the color
I, the winter hallway
I, the black alleyway of bricks and cobblestone
I, the one who knocks
I, the fourth of July
I, the independent
I, the atom
I, the bullet
I, the bohemian
I, the philosopher
I, the homeless
I, the clouds
I, the sky
I, the rain  
I, the music
I, the harp
I, the angel
I, the devil
I, the decider
I, the canceler
I, the road
I, the pavement  
I, the stone
I, the wall
I, the cornfield
I, the golden
I, the emotion
I, the follower
I, the leader
I, the second
I, the minute
I, the hour
I, the day
I, the week
I, the month
I, the year
I, the biennium
I, the triennium
I, the lustrum
I, the decade
I, the jubilee
I, the century
I, the millennium
I, the overseer
I, the god
I, the who  
I, the what
I, the which
I, the where
I, the why
I, the question
I, the answer
I, the dream
I, the reality  
I, the in between
I, the ecstasy
I, the joy
I, the pain  
I, the populous
I, the I
I, the you
I, the
Do not try to understand this.
kenye Mar 2014
They slipped a roofie
in the wishing well
Now we're all on some ****** up
American *******

Baptize the *******
In the sacred swamps
laced with chemicals
They bottle feed

We're the children of the same struggle
Hungry ghosts of the nursery
Pacified by the message
they shoved down our throat
via the animation machinery
with malicious undertones

**** on this
Oral fixation
Choke on this
We can fix it
The problem you see
The problem we invented
it's what you want
to be ailed with


The hypochondriac
vs. the human conditioning

Prescribed apathy
They want us numb
Some scared sick lullaby
along we hum
this is for the addictions they prescribe.
Sia Jane Jan 2015
Pain, so irrevocable
Always too late once muttered.

You slice & dice me
And, I
Sprinkle you with lovers dust.

You pour petrol on an already lit fire
The smell still lingers days later
And, I
Seek out sweet medicine
Caressing your wounds;
Aloe Vera grows abundantly besides what we once called home.

You're the dog with her tail between her legs,
And, I
Gather you in my arms as you cry
A baby ripped from the womb
too soon.

© Sia Jane
Just something noted on my way home tonight xxxx
JJ Hutton Oct 2010
is a carniverous cemetery,
is a pacifier,
is a ******* on a friday night,
is only enough liquor to get you buzzed,
is a ****** bag cop,
is a church with splintered pews,
is sinners scared shitless,
is a two-year-old with an affinity for violence,
is my ex-girlfriend,
is paranoid,
is a blanket of all your favorite prescription pills,
is worried sorority girls in dark-wash jeans,
is unshaved,
is a cancer,
is a perpetual spell-check,
is lonely,
is my mother
and a god-awful toothache.
Copyright 2010 by J.J. Hutton
st64 Jun 2013
how he loved his sweetheart queen
she always wore the silver bracelet
he gave when she turned sixteen
now their kids are growing; how time has flit



10 a.m.

Eyes opening, sun comes streaming through the windows. It's so late!

I rise, feel so groggy....what's this weighty load on me...?
I've been sleeping, yet feel profoundly *weary
.
Where is everyone?
"Muriel...?"
I get to the bathroom to wash and shave.

My wife appears at the door, "Honey, where have you been? Oh, we haven't seen you in so long... Welcome back! Come down for tea, dahling."
She pours a glittering smile and reaches up to touch my cheek with the back of her left hand, fingernails painted deep red...her nuptial rings still a dazzle after so many years...but she....
"Alright, dahling?"
"Y-yes, dear."

She had never called me darling...or even dahling....before...!
Huh?
And off she goes, to the kitchen.
Welcome back?? did she say?? And her eyes were shining so bright...
Wait a minute....just  hold on ....what....??
I shake my head, unable to toss some heavy feeling....a dense cloud in my head.



10:30 a.m.

Now I'm dressed and freshened up, I head down.

Feeling better, I see my warmhearted and humorous son at the pine dinette table.
I smile warmly as he turns to look up...I remember the promise that we'd go fishing this weekend.
"Hey, budd....."
I reach over to touch his hair, but he flinches away..!

"Who's this, Mom?" Kyle demands hotly.
My wife gives a bright smile which doesn't quite reach her eyes and says: "Now, Kyle....behave. It's Daddy.."
"Oh, he's just .....tired, ok."

She waltzes over and politely hands me a steaming mug.
What in the name of....???
Over the cloud of coffee, I watch them all.
Little Jenny, but my jolly toddler...now on her mother's hip...watches with wary eyes and reaches out to scratch me, her pacifier hanging from a blue ribbon, like a noose from her 'happy-smiles' bib.

"But Mom, he's been away so long...for years and..."
I hear him whispering sullen and lizard-like, to his mother....but he's hissed into silence.

What in the heck....?
"Now, children," Muriel says patiently, "go play out in the yard..."

Oh, I'm feeling so frazzled!



11:00 a.m.

I decide I've had enough.

My wife is at the sink, thickly busy rinsing cups and plates; she smiles sweetly, humming.
She never did like doing dishes....
Now there she stands, looking all coiffed and made-up, hopelessly incongruous...

I shake my head; thoughts roll and collide, like mysterious marbles across my mind-floor...
Kyle watches me hostile, from the garden...arms folded defiantly across his chest.
Jenny's on her tricycle, red as a fire-engine.....eyes blankly staring, bent on crisscrossing her scalene triangle trip.

I turn to ask: "Muriel, where's your bracelet, dear? You always have it on."
"Oh, dahling...don't you worry. It's upstairs on the dresser."

And yet.....I was there earlier whilst dressing, and I didn't see it!

Baffled, I step out to the kids.
I prune the bougainvillea and then rake some leaves. Hairs stand up on the back of my neck....
It feels as if I'm being watched...when I look up to see, they are all quickly resume their activities.
Muriel just keeps on that shiny smile for me.


11:30 a.m.

This is it.

As I rake, some leaves make way for a clearing in the yard.
Bending down to scoop some up, a shiny reflection catches my eye...there's the silver bracelet with that beautiful twist of blue as gemstones.
What was it doing here...?

Still pondering, I see my wife's head **** up from the kitchen window...lips curling back...oh, no smile this time...body looking too *****...eyes like saucers, way, way too interested.....

I look down again...move some more leaves.....a curled hand....But it looks like ......

I recognise my Muriel's hand, her clear and pushed-backed-cuticle fingernails....her arm..her face....but.....
she's here.....!!

What the.....??

I turn round slowly to look.....only..... too slowly.....







how I loved my sweetheart Muriel
who always wore her silver bracelet
with that beautiful
twist of blue




S T, 11 June 2013
Partly inspired by movie 'Haunting in Salem'...just some ****** film I couldn't finish....lol
Dozed off and wrote this thing, instead :)


sub-entry: none
Bell'Alta Jul 2013
Sometimes I feel like people are trying to pacify me, with a pacifier, when I'm actually throwing up.  But they don't see it. They literally do not see it.  And then they get mad at me for refusing to take the pacifier when it really isn't helping at all, in fact, it's making it worse.  You don't help people when you're not helping them.  When someone is throwing up, you don't give them something that will keep it in.  You help them throw up, you help them get that yucky stuff out of them, you get a towel, or a bowl, or take them to a toilet.  You rub their back, get them some tea, wash their face.  It's not pretty and it's not fun, but it's helping.  Pacifiers are quick and easy and take little to no effort on your part.  But when someone is throwing up, that takes patience, endurance, love, empathy, sacrifice, kindness, determination.  If you can't help, don't try to help at all, it may make it worse.

I am not talking about service here, I am and I'm not.  I'm talking about when someone is in a real problem, and they need the right help; if you can't give that right help, don't give the wrong help.   When someone is throwing up, don't give them a pacifier.
This isn't a poem, but I wanted to put up here anyways, something I wrote.
If you danced from midnight
to six A.M. who would understand?

The runaway boy
who chucks it all
to live on the Boston Common
on speed and saltines,
******* in the duck pond,
rapping with the street priest,
trading talk like blows,
another missing person,
would understand.

The paralytic's wife
who takes her love to town,
sitting on the bar stool,
downing stingers and peanuts,
singing "That ole Ace down in the hole,"
would understand.

The passengers
from Boston to Paris
watching the movie with dawn
coming up like statues of honey,
having partaken of champagne and steak
while the world turned like a toy globe,
those murderers of the nightgown
would understand.

The amnesiac
who tunes into a new neighborhood,
having misplaced the past,
having thrown out someone else's
credit cards and monogrammed watch,
would understand.

The drunken poet
(a genius by daylight)
who places long-distance calls
at three A.M. and then lets you sit
holding the phone while he vomits
(he calls it "The Night of the Long Knives")
getting his kicks out of the death call,
would understand.

The insomniac
listening to his heart
thumping like a June bug,
listening on his transistor
to Long John Nebel arguing from New York,
lying on his bed like a stone table,
would understand.

The night nurse
with her eyes slit like Venetian blinds,
she of the tubes and the plasma,
listening to the heart monitor,
the death cricket bleeping,
she who calls you "we"
and keeps vigil like a ballistic missile,
would understand.

Once
this king had twelve daughters,
each more beautiful than the other.
They slept together, bed by bed
in a kind of girls' dormitory.
At night the king locked and bolted the door
. How could they possibly escape?
Yet each morning their shoes
were danced to pieces.
Each was as worn as an old jockstrap.
The king sent out a proclamation
that anyone who could discover
where the princesses did their dancing
could take his pick of the litter.
However there was a catch.
If he failed, he would pay with his life.
Well, so it goes.

Many princes tried,
each sitting outside the dormitory,
the door ajar so he could observe
what enchantment came over the shoes.
But each time the twelve dancing princesses
gave the snoopy man a Mickey Finn
and so he was beheaded.
****! Like a basketball.

It so happened that a poor soldier
heard about these strange goings on
and decided to give it a try.
On his way to the castle
he met an old old woman.
Age, for a change, was of some use.
She wasn't stuffed in a nursing home.
She told him not to drink a drop of wine
and gave him a cloak that would make
him invisible when the right time came.
And thus he sat outside the dorm.
The oldest princess brought him some wine
but he fastened a sponge beneath his chin,
looking the opposite of Andy Gump.

The sponge soaked up the wine,
and thus he stayed awake.
He feigned sleep however
and the princesses sprang out of their beds
and fussed around like a Miss America Contest.
Then the eldest went to her bed
and knocked upon it and it sank into the earth.
They descended down the opening
one after the other. They crafty soldier
put on his invisisble cloak and followed.
Yikes, said the youngest daughter,
something just stepped on my dress.
But the oldest thought it just a nail.

Next stood an avenue of trees,
each leaf make of sterling silver.
The soldier took a leaf for proof.
The youngest heard the branch break
and said, Oof! Who goes there?
But the oldest said, Those are
the royal trumpets playing triumphantly.
The next trees were made of diamonds.
He took one that flickered like Tinkerbell
and the youngest said: Wait up! He is here!
But the oldest said: Trumpets, my dear.

Next they came to a lake where lay
twelve boats with twelve enchanted princes
waiting to row them to the underground castle.
The soldier sat in the youngest's boat
and the boat was as heavy as if an icebox
had been added but the prince did not suspect.

Next came the ball where the shoes did duty.
The princesses danced like taxi girls at Roseland
as if those tickets would run right out.
They were painted in kisses with their secret hair
and though the soldier drank from their cups
they drank down their youth with nary a thought.

Cruets of champagne and cups full of rubies.
They danced until morning and the sun came up
naked and angry and so they returned
by the same strange route. The soldier
went forward through the dormitory and into
his waiting chair to feign his druggy sleep.
That morning the soldier, his eyes fiery
like blood in a wound, his purpose brutal
as if facing a battle, hurried with his answer
as if to the Sphinx. The shoes! The shoes!
The soldier told. He brought forth
the silver leaf, the diamond the size of a plum.

He had won. The dancing shoes would dance
no more. The princesses were torn from
their night life like a baby from its pacifier.
Because he was old he picked the eldest.
At the wedding the princesses averted their eyes
and sagged like old sweatshirts.
Now the runaways would run no more and never
again would their hair be tangled into diamonds,
never again their shoes worn down to a laugh,
never the bed falling down into purgatory
to let them climb in after
with their Lucifer kicking.
Terry O'Leary Oct 2014
The spider Queen, aloofly vain!
She rules a silent ruthless reign,
with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain
that damp the depths of her demesne.
          .
                     .
                                .
A spider spins, with nimble feet,
a sticky web of grim deceit
that drapes the corners, dark, discreet,
in catacombs of her retreat.

Her jointed legs (in number, eight)
traverse the threads with stilted gait,
but often more she'll lie in wait
within the hub of her estate.

Shy spiders live their lives alone
ensconced within a silky throne;
unless a transient guest comes flown,
their lives bide empty, monotone.
          .
                     .
Well, now and then, a sullen breeze
may twitch the toils, begin to tease –
yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas,
so patience's bid  at times like these.

But then again, when stars ignite,
may maunder by a gnat, by night,
be taught a dance, a writhing rite,
within a lace of death, wrapped tight.

Sometimes a spider's in the mood
and waits awhile, whilst being wooed –
and then, to later feed her brood,
the widow slays her mate for food.

In time a spider dies, 'tis true,
bequeathing but a residue
entwined, devoid of retinue,
in fibers decked in silver dew.
          .
                     .
                                .
One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT –
to feed and make the spider fat?
Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that
within a mindless habitat.
          .
                     .
"Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire,
“at the heart of MAN's desire.
To which goals should WE aspire
reaching high and reaching higher?"

We've, through the ages, left the mire,
trundling wheels and taming fire,
doing deeds that must inspire,
nursing needy, calming crier, …

Such things as these, most may admire:
          - placid dove and war defier
            (some are bolder, some are shyer)
          - patience (mess-up mollifier);

          - humankind (Life's justifier)
          - charity (charmed self-denier)
          - tolerance (proud pacifier )
          - love of Life (folk unifier).


What more could we, as flesh, require?
Needless kneeling neath the spire?
Childish chanting in the choir?
Preaching hell's impending pyre?


No, Death's the only rectifier,
comes the instant we expire,
nothing after, sentience prior.

So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.
"if not the gnat,
the gnat is naught..."
ANON

Hmmm... wonder what that means...
Galbraith Frase Apr 2019
Aren't you getting drowsy?
From that rubber feeling being smudged inside
With the white lies, you're trying to hide
And answers that you cannot find

Human Pacifier
You feed them hope, you feed them glory
You feed them joy, even their exigency
You give your lasts and your entirety
Did they do the same?

Of course, they detect
That you're holding unto a Placebo Effect
Knows you're stoic and benevolent
So they keep sending amenable threats

Someday, it will trigger you
Your aspired esteem and prisoned wounds
Where you realize you need to fulfill "you",
Erase the 'shoulds' and do 'coulds'

It's not your fault being so tolerant
It's meant to happen though it's not meant to stay
It's not your duty to be the second hand
Just to be used and strayed

Recognize your worth
You must know when to leave the table
When you feel like being disabled,
Guard your heart and guard your castle
Because prevention is better than cure
It's okay to be kind but too much is nearly a definition of abuse. Stop feeding others for their satisfactory and start focusing on your betterment. Have you encountered a bond with someone with a great connection then it suddenly disconnects? Do you think it's worth another try?
Rose Alley Apr 2013
Why would I ever venture to guess
That you would be willing to meet me halfway?
My empty attempts are wasted endeavors
I give it my best shot
In pursuit of mutual presence
A hesitant undertaking that
Solicits the same solidarity I strive to stifle
I know I'm a hindering burden that
Overloads you like a snow covered tree
Still clinging on to its leaves
Never letting them go until they're
Weighed down and overloaded
A strain crack break
Brings it down in a thunderous sound
To handshake the ground
I am a huge hassle that hugs his hostile self
Grabbing his own handful heart
Holding it in the air as a sign to declare
Sorry for the inconvenience
I've been rocked goodbye
The wind didn't blow
It was snow that broke me
The bow never budged
It was the entire tree that plummeted
A swift fall to bring my cradle and all
Crashing so you no longer have to sit
Àŧùl Aug 2014
Oh my angry youthful lover,
This is a poem to pacify you.

You are angry since forever,
I feel so lonely without you.

Please forgive my ignorance,
I'm going to take care of you.

Don't be angry, drink water,
I learnt a lesson, you're right.

You are truly like me inside,
As possessive and as caring.
My HP Poem #659
©Atul Kaushal
Chad Williams Jul 2015
Sometimes I wish I was a baby again,
things just seem so simple.
Blissfully unaware of all the worry,
that can hide behind those dimples.

The most amazing thing about a baby,
is their ability to go.
Miserable to ecstatic,
before you even know.

The secret is their binky;
it's seemingly insignificant.
As long as it's in their mouth,
they couldn't feel more magnificent.

When it's with them,
they're in an oasis.
Free from all the problems,
that plague the rest of us.

When it's with them,
nothing else could matter.
All their problems disappear,
like a window when it shatters.
What's your pacifier?
avenue sounds are never agreeable, ignore the drift,
ignore the hum,
ignore the suburban neophytes in the city lights (I never did care much for hipsters).
ignore rapid eye movements, the flush red face, ignore the snapshots of you that adorn my semi-sleep state

I stare at my ceiling and see the cobblestone summer streets you once graced, long ago in the eternal occident, I want to ignore but I’m so very boozed, in a blue lucid slumber:::

eyes closed::: my head spins and sleep begins with the tidal delirium of dopamine drips, your legs, your hips, I’m drowning a bit, doused in a sanguine sweat inside a fantasy (**** I’m dreaming of you)

Synaptic friction
she is a pleasant fiction  
flash/sparks segue a dormant memory ,
the two of us riding familiar highways::: she gazes at me with her usual emerald encased ocular torment, those limbal rings cast aspersions at the last vestiges of my will power, until, I’m done, done in by the divinity of her lips:::

There is no end to (your) energy
It even finds me here::: in my dystopian  dream (eternal)
now
an inescapable, myopic curse
(nocturnal)
:::
the nightmare of not having you near

Awake, I roll over to clutch for the pacifier of your comfort (violent midnight)
I find only a fragrance,
i flail, searching, when those flashbacks fall short
isolated into the banality of bedsheets and pillows pleats

(the retrograde nature of my reality, now readily apparent)



cdh
bellow my window ****** drunks seem to taunt me with feigned intellect and a bullshiter’s banter, a nest of vipers in the heat of the dialectic, serenading one night stands  (**i guess this is what passes for love**)
Kristina Muller Dec 2012
She needs it.
She consumes.
No longer for her enjoyment.
All her blood has been drained,
only alcohol remains.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
blueberries gasoline and prostate gland
breast cancer Wonderbread and pacifier

controlled experiment space travel and honey
peanuts inductive reasoning and electricity

tornadoes torture chamber and biscuits
copyright car radio cantaloupe

golden eagle lunch break tomato
Romanian songbook rhubarb and barbed wire

always hungry nevermind meat loaf
goosefoot mango juice Ipad

mosquito bite city street and broccoli
Chinese cabbage female *** drive water sport

pure contralto goat yogurt new year
black death white light and green tea
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Fah Mar 2014
the cosmos exudes from between our toes
trails of nebula  and spiral arm galaxies
burden the floor with their scented residue
of caramel complexion on mint cream -

expectations fall to the wayside
as the wayside falls to expectations

trust in the infallible,
if the world ( is to me )
saved from the virtuous vindication's of a pacifier society
run to the nearest tree and sway with the blustering breeze !


for the cosmos exudes between our toes
trails of nebula and spiral arm galaxies litter the floor

tell me a tale of who i am ,
yet i know i have not felt myself in my fullness.

for i was born before the cosmos could take her first steps
or the sparkling sun stars could take their first light
i am neither the mountain nor the valley in depth
but within both i am sure to reside ~

out of my womb cascades a waterfall of pixie dust to the glee of several a man .

yet i always had wondered why none stuck around to hear from the well versed band.

I was quite sure the depths that i knew how to love
would create a whirlwind of sorts  
enhanced by the glow of a dark purple blue rose , i’m not quite the type for rose quartz

to spend my love ***** nilly , a silly endeavor indeed
not all can handle the burn as i am

Light Sky ,

a fire filled sky ,

i am the sunrise dripping from the heavens in mellow tones of yellow and pink , i am the solar eclipse, sacred geometry in motion
and by association
i am the high tide moon shine get you drunk off one look sunset in the desert , dark purple blue rose kinda lady.

and you ,

my earth breeze , can whistle up a tune to jam with me , like no one would ever believe..


The cosmos that exudes between our toes
stacked layer upon layer
like a pancake tower
are the places we go to when the world
closes it’s eyes.
Graff1980 Feb 2015
Blood splatter
Brain matter
Arms crossed
Children lost
You shouldn’t get
To look away

Cold metal slabs
Filled with bad
Rooms brimming
Ready to burst
With the sad
You shouldn’t get
To look away

Bone fragment
Metal shards
Bombed out buildings
Scarred the yard
Flowers crushed
Before their time
You shouldn’t get
To look away

Open wounds
Pacifier soaked in blood
Children in school
With nowhere to run
Can’t hide from
A bomb
Can’t find a tunnel to sanity
While this goes on
You shouldn’t get to look away


Madmen don’t live in asylums
They wear suits and ties
Eat power lunches
While bombs fly
Turn a blind eye
For profit
No matter what it costs
You may try to hide
Let others decide
Who lives and dies
But no one should get to look away


See what’s left
Feel their pain
Give me your reasons
Try to explain
But as long as it happens
Again and again
No one should get to look away
Rabbit Dec 2012
so let me tell you of my digressions
my hopeless realm of repetition
i am armed with
2 blacks
4 grams
and a pack of sour patches to keep me snackin
i have yet again
settled in
to my barb wired trenches in this hell

Better Is The Devil You Know
Than To Go Fishing For A Stranger

so i sit calmly
because i suppose it is
Better To Be Patient
than to act out of this anger
cause ive considered killing you at my leisure

Why **** Him
Cant You Just Leave And Feel The Same
Satisfaction

no
cause if i could then
would i be here smackin on these cracklins
I brought those to delay the decaying of
teeth as i endudge in
what's first sour then sweet
my cavity
and i fein
from one fix to the next
Oh wrong C
i said Cavity
i mean
*******
Crack rock
Crack baby
reaching for that pacifier
higher and higher i go
while diving deeper in this hole
no point of return
no lessons were learned by previous heartaches
i ache
cause i aint
exactly who i used to be
grabbed by my foundation
and ripped the roots from under me

God Heals All Things

But what about the ***** that breaks ****
takes ****
gets it how he lives and makes ****
Cause this sweet southern soul
is growing old
and i've been told that revenge is so sweet
and baby i'm gon eat

the troops have been patient
but now
we brazen
and a revolt is all i see.
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
Dynamite on my magic carpet tongue
That’s the last thing I remember
And she, she was the boldest Aries
She led me out the backdoor
Till we reached a brick dead-end
That’s when this deadly charade began
Never knew love quite like her body heat
And the silken robes we wore became ragged cut-sleeves
And I’ve always had a floater
But these trails are a different breed
And she’s spinning my quarter
But it never falls for me
And my friends in the backyard are watching snakes unfurl
As they stab the red earth and finger their pearls
But I prefer the garden pool, it keeps the neighbors far away
And one tiny matchstick is the only heart I have to play
I thought I had real love, I always put my hands
On her bony shoulders, she liked it then
We all raced to hell in a golden-rimmed chalice
All part of our big, of my big experiment
But infidelity can’t be commanded
Guess I always had a pacifier cold
My crutch of loneliness transformed
Into beds and vanity of old
I pushed them all to sanity’s brink
So I celebrate their pink departure
Rolling round’ in candle wax
Scrambled tape and fear’s embark
Created a demon, thought I was Byron
And this little pet became the death of me
Perhaps I should’ve asked a question to myself,
Burnt my house down, and swam more often in the real
Too much pride to call out for help
Always too much pride
There goes a shooting star
umbrellas Jul 2013
You're real bold with that text
"Yes baby. Slobber all over that ----..."
Sorry, NEXT.

Boys want Women to tend to their pacifier
But to think you'd think that I would even....
"Tch, The devil is a liar."
Leonard Green Jul 2013
Round 1: New Life
Entered abruptly, this world out of the caretaker’s womb
astonished by the awe of unusual surroundings
so unlike the comfort of the nine month pacifier
images fade in, then out, and in, then out once again
feel this empty sensation, deep inside the belly
initially a murmur, then a monstrous growl
shall this need drive the emerging beast…

Round 2: Survive
Astounded still, by the incentives from the senses
nonetheless, comprehension builds mostly from stumbling
and the consequences of actions may honor or condemn
imitating and discovering, touching and tasting, the wants
hear this curious whisper, deep inside the mind
initially a hum, then a vicarious voice
shall this be the song of a destined course…

Round 3: First Love
Twinkled eyes, with the melody of hypnotizing admiration
wanting so fierce, the heart skips several beats
beauty so pure and deep, the skin becomes totally immaterial
can’t eat, can’t sleep, want to caress this haunting dream
but wait, maybe the feelings lack mutual perception
then to experience the piercing silence of rejection
shall this fear define the character…

Round 4: Nuptials
Exchanged vows, two mates to share eternity as one soul
to nurture one another with the food of selfless care
instead, demons from the spirit’s dark side arose
mistrusting and abusing, suffocating and killing, the love
no room, no place for compassion and understanding
only the refuge for a hollowed indifference
shall this be the start of a fragile heart…

Round 5: Bounce Back**
Continued hope, for the chance to champion a cause
to humbly honor the truth in self and in others
reckless to the tangible constraints weighing on the mind
to decease, to desist, the will to life’s tribulations
the blows come and go, a jab here, a jab there
striking with unforeseen yet uncanny precision
shall this bell ring in the final round…
Deana Luna Jan 2016
you kiss like a tragic miracle
you are the first.

i want to feel what you name this part
how wet
the same
and
yes i want to drool down your chest
biting big arms like bubblegum
my sweet body.

smeared cake,
sweet pacific.
crybaby911 Sep 2015
"Wah. Wah. Wah," the crybaby said.
Her insecurities are always, constantly being fed.
Then they shove a pacifier into her mouth.
To ignore their blabbering self-doubts.

mama. <3
Ivana Aug 2014
They left behind little tokens of love,
fragments of memories with pieces of their souls.
There lays his pacifier, that would close his mouth for afternoon naps.
The laptop charger that allowed YouTube videos to be played when daytime T.V. was too plain for his expontental mind.
The room that they slept in; still coaxed in their fragrance the bed still wet from his drooling mouth and the tears that were shed as I said goodbye.
I promised I was not going to cry,
but when he held out his arms from the car seat with no awareness of where he was going,
I needed to let him know through my face that I was upset that he was leaving,
that the drooling, smiling from lobe to lobe, Micheal Jackson dancing five and half month nephew was not aware that he was breaking his aunt's heart.
The pacifier still sits on the counter, I'll leave it there for a few days.
It's pleasant to have a fragment of his soul for good luck before I leave for college.
Sean Fitzpatrick Nov 2013
Read, sailors, read
Try your best to make blinking your only sleep
Time is so tightly wound that
All the blinking, crying birds could not fathom

You have been given a mighty, starstung ship
With sails so wide they could cover your reality
Use these sheets not to sleep, but
Fly them like monster kites

Rest, doves, rest
The fear that you feel at the bottom of your breast
Will be spat out like a pacifier
In time
On time, you'll glide into familiar arms

No farms could reach you there
You're no chicken, no better but
Your claws no longer scratch earth's flesh
Your hands have no need for dust

Peace, hawks, peace
All your empty handed armies have no hands
Softly stroking your mud won't do
It has taken its own shape
Of some concern to your mould

Speaking of which, moss grows soft
It has its own place but
Beds are for sleepers
You, friend, are a weeper

Time, patience, time
There is so much time you should not rush
Rather, be pushed by the hush
Come home to your family
A weary, winded traveler

Pull up a windmill
Grind up piecemeal
Some flesh cracks
and crystals don't relax
Thanks to Bob Dylan and his poetry in Baby Blue.
Livingdeadgirl Apr 2015
Breathe in right away,
Nothing seems to fill this place
I need this every time,
Take your lies get off my case
Someday I will find a love
That flows through me like this
This will fall away,
this will fall away
You’re getting closer to pushing me
Off of life’s little edge
Cause I’m a loser
And sooner or later
You know I’ll be dead
You’re getting closer,
You’re holding the rope,
I'm taking the fall
Cause I’m a loser, I’m a loser, yeah
This is getting old,
I can’t break these chains that I hold
My body’s growing cold,
There’s nothin left of this mind
Or my soul
Addiction needs a pacifier,
The buzz of this poison is taking me higher
This will fall away,
This will fall away
You’re getting closer, to pushing me
Off of life’s little edge
Cause I’m a loser and sooner or later
You know I’ll be dead
You’re getting closer,
You’re holding the rope and
I’m taking the fall
Cause I’m a loser
You’re getting closer, to pushing me
Off of life’s little edge
Cause I’m a loser and sooner or later
You know I’ll be dead
You’re getting closer,
You’re holding the rope
And I’m taking the fall
Cause I’m a loser
Pete Badertscher Oct 2010
Crystal, like my soul.
Crystal, like my flesh.
Hard edged, jagged, quick to draw blood,
That is my fetish.
I harbor the wounds of antiquity,
View Achilles with scorn.
Weak demi-god, foolish god-son.
Don’t play the game by the rules,
Challenge them.
Why allow such blood-travesty?
Take the arrow in your heel.
Take it and tell the gods,
“I deny your divinity!”
“*******!”
“I defy your divinity AND my future!”
Use the pain,
Make it crystal,
Hard edged, quick to cut.
Blood is a purifier—a pacifier,
Let it run and set your mind free.
Let it flow till you fall dead,
Now dry of blood, a husk,
In crystal.
V Messy Sep 2012
remember in my story
how you wept on the monument
your tears staining the feet of soldiers
row men
who killed amply and without judgment
your eyes do that now
rip throats out from beneath my fairy tales
your hands are deeper than they used to be
i think you’ve burnt a real levy this time
the shores agree and mock my tone
creeping
like your hair brushed along my back
im soothed by the patience
of eyes
tying me to a fever
that begins below the skin
have me for dinner
and don’t look at me once
just mouth words
like pacifier
and forget-me-not
wishes like be the one
please i beg
for scraps from the table
bits of meats
ripped with your teeth
glistening with your spit
the devouring of my mind
Sia Jane Feb 2014
throw me your Pacifier
drop me a Heart
a packet of Jokers
flutter, as Jacks
queens & kings Fall
laughing in Jest
wanton stares of Rapture
plea for my Muse
she keeps the Sluth
from this game, of Cards
don't leave me Loose
craving my Queen
a charmed Epochal
smitten twice, Bitten
you be the One
captured me First
classic queen of Hearts
painting roses Red
lost in your Wonderland

© Sia Jane
"Wanderlust" by Sia Jane Lloyd is available via Amazon
My new poetry anthology :))))

"Wanderlust" by Sia Jane Lloyd available via all Amazon stores

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REL Feb 2013
i leaned my head on your shoulder while you told me
about "those lazy wetbacks" again, the ones you ran into
at the bank (with your car) and i laughed because
i didn't know how not to.

i grew up a painted-white fence. wood naturally brown
i drowned myself in bleach so my words would be pure,
burnt hair my fault. black eyes my bad
for being born, i am sorry

we are taller now but never any smarter: sure,
we act empowered but really there's a pacifier there who
just wanted a face like us to say
"you're beautiful, not burnt"
i pretend it's a lesson learnt
021213

— The End —