There is so much of you
on my mind

that everything else
seems buried

and I feel like
I am too

But standing next to you
all my thoughts just float away

and I am unable to tell you
what I’m thinking

but please,
take my hand..

Unbury me

Bombs are falling in Aleppo,
the evil failed man that rules,
killing his own people,
Innocent noncombatants,
sheltering in their homes,
Crushed and buried in the
falling rubble of a dictator's
vengeful hate.

None but the volunteer
White Helmets digging
with bare hands to save
and unbury them, most
victims, irrecoverable pieces.

Occasionally, miraculously
some are spared and saved.  
Through these valiant selfless
efforts.

Oh Syria, you are bombed and burned,
while the world fiddles an obtuse tune
and turns its collective back on desperate
human cries for assistance.

Waiting in my memory
Its gentle waves are calling me
For I was cut from eroding shore
To oceans edge for evermore

Never a sight had crossed my eyes
So vast a nexus, land and sky
and sea. Transfixed so there I stood
In briny sand and drifting wood

While still, each visage yet untamed,
Each piece of wood, not one the same.
To touch them all, I sought to soothe
With salted kisses, lay them smooth

There among the writhing forms
I walked barefoot and weather worn
While each piece begged my presence stay,
Another hurried me on my way

What could quench this thirsting gaze,
Lo, is all for destination’s sake?
I beg for but a moment longer,
for all these twisting paths to ponder

I too am driftwood on the beach
A wilting flower within your reach
One day You’ll have me by Your side
and unbury my waiting rings of time.

What if I told you the pain was heavier than the pleasure

Would you still find a gem in my soul to treasure?

If I told you I feel darkness within me when I wake

Would you still choose me every day?

If the blood that ran through my veins was cold and could freeze you

Would you still hold me as tight as you do?

If I pushed you away and got lost in time

Would you find me and save me from my own mind?

Sometimes people are so quiet
They are almost invisible
It can take days
Before they realize they have been noticed

Sometimes people are so scared
Of being hurt again
It can take months
For them to say "hi" back

Sometimes people are so sure
No one will ever love them
It can take years
To unbury their hidden self

Sometimes it can take moments

I have a poem written in my notebook,
but I think it can wait.
Because, at this moment,
I have something else to say.
****** Sick because of the Randy Mumble
Take me to the hopsital, unbury me from the Rubble.
I think this is sounding lame,
but I'm a cliché; it's my claim to fame.
Not fame, per sé, I don't like the lime light.
But behind the scenes, and of course the clubs at night.
This poem isn't very good.
It's more like a diary entry,
than a piece of poetry.
I think the one in my notebook is better.

Hallowed be thy name
True reality of mind
Just myself left to attain
To unbury the divine.

Words alone must always fail
To describe that tiny spark
You would call the Holy Grail
If but once you'd brave the dark.

No death, so do not fear
The robed monk implores
Now see the way is clear
Go unlock your doors.

Know that the little Me
Again must go to sleep
But the hallowed soul goes free
To fields of stars so deep.

We are the creators, we are expression in its purest form, because we just are, adrenaline, awareness, passions of the flame, wishmakers from the ripples in the water, lets ignite, like trick candles, there's always more, lets unbury the questions we put in the ground, make something amazing out of them, write down our own answers, resurface, those things we all hide, so that we may forget, the heaviness weighs ambitions down, just be, express, reverse origami, unfold.

it is hard to love someone
while you're grieving
the loss of the person they used to be.

my brother hasn't spoken in weeks.
a headstone reads,
here lies the brother you once had,
and the flowers I placed there are barely living.
I've spent all of my time digging him out of one grave,
only to discover there's an entire cemetery left to unbury.

my mother hasn't smiled in days,
and exhaustion has become
the guest that has overstayed its welcome.
misery usually loves company,
but I am anxious for it leave.

I am homesick for a house
that I once lived in.
I am homesick for a place
where only love grows
from this family tree.

I let it back in. I let it creep into my soul.
no I let it unbury itself from the grapple it was under.
I let it walk out of the shadows and bowed down to it.
it referred to me as "autumn" and I couldn't respond, because the girl that was once here, was cut up into little pieces, and forgotten but myself.
I let her rot away, under the skeptical of other's all while she had that smile upon her face.
and now, here we are in the same body.
no place for her dearest to go.
HAHAHA she is trembling, afraid of herself,
and ****. have I ever been more proud, my greatest work of all?
sitting here, begging for me to leave.
honey, sweet pea, **** yourself.
because I am here and now and you aren't getting rid of me.
you should have done that 3 years ago.
you should have listened to the whispers.
instead of slowly fading away.

The dreams roll through my
mind as it hovers over the edge
of rest. A constant feeling of feeling
everything at once.
I cry as the clouds cover my eyes
and I fall into a land where I am
revealed.
Dripping down my cheeks comes
the blood of reopened scars
slashed wide in fear of existence.
I walk through tunnels into green
fields of hope and sun and reflection.
Fences unbury themselves; capturing
my thoughts again.
As they ascend the small child grabs my hand
and vomits on my face.

I wake up.

Queen of ebony night
Unbury me from mine crypt,
The blood moon is upon us
Tis ones troth of raven bliss

Queen of undead theory
Reveal me to thy clockwork *****,
Fog shalt revere me
In thy arms I'll feel thy mysticism!!!

the ion we once relied on has gone the way of pressure and made a diamond
the alchemy we once cheated enchants our dreams though we feel defeated
i've seen gold in the rain that collects on my window pane; i'm only rich on rainy days
i can't disagree that the finer things are sometimes those most killing me

conversation meets symmetry. life beyond telepathy
holding out your hands in cosmic reach beckons
the nebula to both learn and teach

i found the bottom of my shoes gripping the past like cement fitted boots
i recovered your heart like a star with the arrows that i shoot
i've unearthed more than words with copper plated truth
but mostly i've thought of all the ways to repeatedly bury and unbury you.

home is where the
dog died
where the carvings in the walls say
I heart ryan four ever

or it used to be

I could etch the rooftiles of the
abandoned hot dog stand in foil
from blindfolded memory I know these walls

I could drive drunk from 111 to 25
unbury the spare key where
hannah used to live
I could
recite the streets and pebbles between yours and mine

but they say you can’t go home again
you can’t go home again
you can’t go
not again

By:D.E.T

Back no playtime
On the daytime
No break time

Cuz I'm so stressed
On what's coming next
My last success didn't hit me

I got some advice
On how to keep / treat theses line
Gotta do this clearly
Cuz I got to many
Write down
Or jot down

Cuz I talk to my readers
Cuz they are my leaders
That make the decision
To vision
On how I took the time
To make my lines

So, there is no break time
Bet people can't wait for what's coming next
I bet y'all can't wait for the steps
I take to make these line

Hope y'all feel me
When I talk about somebody
That I feel sorry
I try to be hearty

I took a step
Cuz that's what I expected
So, I can blew up the past
That keeps passing
But really I feel like I keep grabbing
Any words that comes up to my brain

Cuz I am try'na make things clearly
Cuz I'm trying to unbury
The feelings
That are laying
On my chest
And yes
I'm trying to get the stress
So, I don't have to look at my regrets
And get upset

And soon as I get this hope you note this
So, you can notice
How I focus
As I face the surface

Pondering ways to escape
Trying to stop my mind from mulling over the ways that I'm trapped
In this cage of circumstance
Brain bruised from overthinking
Waking up in the middle of the night heart beating faster than cars speeding on the freeway
I dreamt again about leaving
But it's not so simple
Reality is harsher than a dream
Glimpses of wishes behind closed eyelids don't mean a thing
When truth forces you to take in the facts surrounding you
I'm stuck
The merest wish upon a star is irrelevant if the sky is starless  
I find myself looking left and right for guidance
Looking up to stop to the tears from falling and looking down in case they do
I have no clue
How to unbury my feet from the mud
Caked up from years of second guessing
And worrying if what I did would be enough
Tired of waking up disappointed as realization hits like a newly bloomed flower being crushed by the weight of a brick
When I understand my dream is just a dream
And I haven't yet been given the key
To unlock my happiness .

in foggy reflections behind skin in colors milked with lavenders and soft tangerines live half-hearted twists of sunburnt oranges and crimson riddled with hurt. I watched her share feelings after the fight to unbury them, they call her needy, I call her brave. words spoken to a half listening computer screen are easier to breathe life to than words spoken in the midst of whole listening souls, the main difference being a flow of sub-conscience-bearing mumbles springing through aching fingers and a backspace key. lingering thoughts of an absent pulse, a deep desire for another place, wondering and flipping thoughts over and over in my mind to feel them, feel them, again and again with each turn. how are you feeling today. we can't pretend it isn't there. is it because of me?
the same. I want to. never.
someday it will make sense.

Deafening,
the sound of your tears are piercing me.

I spend every last second of my life
digging through your head
to unbury what you try to keep hidden.
I know that you're hurting -
let me fix you.

I am bleeding myself every morning, sometimes quite aggressively.
My brain's become responsible for too much blood, you see,
My head gets clogged up, and
the blood—becomes responsible for all the naughty thoughts that drive me...
Oh My,
Sticky. If you ever got it on you.
My blood is white like the untouched snow out back, could be almost marble imitation, for all anyone knows, before the tracks have been put in.
Marvelous snow, beaming in on me.
To wake me.  
Harsh on my eyes the sun is, It and It's reflective partner maim me. For my idiocy in having kept my eyes shut through a morning such as this.
The glass doors are perhaps too kind in their admittance of the morning light; they must be early risers.
Oh My,
My blood is cold. That's why I stay, content, in bed with warmth.
I am, as it appears, too much a coward to ADMIT MYSELF into this air
to spite the sting of winter,
to drown in it, naked, and embrace it, the taste of it, like new lips—belonging to a thing more grand than any living creature to have graced me yet. And in that breath...
Oh My, what, oh what new secrets
shall I/might I/ unbury with my hands—if only set to dig in the right place, and for long enough.

But the lips of Earth can't ******* as well as I can.

It’s three in the morning
The whisky bottle stares, daring
The calm night screams
Death haunt memories unbury
Unravelling faces long dead
But seeking answers
The sacrificed
That’s what we called them
Left behind
For the greater good
Our greater good
Like we shot you with betrayal
That would be mercy
Your screams then
Like your screams now
Awake us like a knife to the chest
We hide the guilt
Create hero status on your behalf
Bestow greatness on your forgotten souls
Hide in the dead of night
Praying deep graves stay closed
It’s three in the morning
The whisky bottle stares, daring
Restless sleep fights the night drowning
The new day brings change
Fear gone
For at least another year.

i want to forget,
        forget these bruised bones and how they got that way.
i want to forget,
         forget this emaciated body and walk away from it,
I want to forget,
         forget why my twig fingers dug into this dirt, dug into an empty grave,
but it hasn’t rained in six months, it hasn’t rained since you died.

I want to forget,
         but the flowers on my bedside table are not even flowers anymore,
     and the picture of you doesn’t even look like you, and these stupid poems of love and forever only announce themselves later on as *******.
               Because love is not something you gave me, love is something I only offered up to you as a sacrifice of my own existence. Love is all i had to give and you didn't even want it from me.

I want to forget,
          forget about the ****** knuckles, forget about how afterwards
   you would lay me down in a warm bath and wash off the blood and everything else you etched into this already broken skin.
                But it hasn’t snowed since last november, and last november you didn’t even know my name.

On this stiff soil, with the sun cascading itself through fingers of dead trees, i almost think i hear your name, like you’re echoing it off of your sorry tongue, like you want to unbury yourself, like you want to go back to where you didn’t stop for me, where you didn’t tell me your name.

                      I wish the same, i wish the same but all i can bring myself to do is cry over a body that never even deserved crying for.

In stories we are bound
language connecting
lives intersecting
repeating their meaning
hearing, feeling,
smelling, and seeing
as clearly as the words
can be understood.

In stories we lose strangers.
All things foreign
become familial.
Blood spilt,
arms in chains,
cotton picked,
rocks are broken
on the chain gang,
grown men hanged
on strong trees
opposite of Calvary
because there is no
salvation to see.
White sheets
are worn by
posturing fools
who hide their identity
to terrorize
with violence and lies;
These stories unite
empower some to rise
up against those who victimize.

In stories we should hear
the cries of refugees,
parents and children
running from the bombing
of their homeland,
cities and towns
broken down
to rubble, chaos, and fear,
hard working people
struggling to survive,
trying to get by
to feed those they love,
to get enough,
for a home,
for a chance.
Good people
gentle, funny, friendly,
they are you and me
just existing in different skins.

In stories we see
human factories
dark towers spewing
white clouds
once human.
Hateful hands salute
fascist authority.
David’s star beats
over human hearts,
while Jews walk with
Gypsies, Gays,
Intellectuals
and other Dissidents,
people being called rodents.
Yet, a child’s diary
offers tears and hope
cause despite her pain
she still believes
something that
frequently eludes me

In stories we should see
how history repeats,
learning our lessons well
we should steady ourselves
and be prepared
for the hatred,
for the rhetoric,
for the lies repeated
woven in the tapestry
of violence,
spun in the artistry
of reshaping history
to suit their greed,
to pluck the seed
of humanity
before it ever touches ground
seeing them rip the
forbears of goodwill
from the ground.

In stories we should be reborn,
rebuilding bridges
while tearing down
the walls and borders.
So, we don’t have to jump over.
We can just offer helping hands.
No soldier left behind
because no soldier is sent to war.
No child left to starve
because we know what
science is for,
to grow and explore
not to gain more
materiel things
but to expand our minds
and find new and greater dreams.

In stories we realize
we are human
egotistical yes
but it is the best place to start
to unbury damaged heart,
to open closed eyes
and see the sky,
to help all people fly
soaring together
not forever,
but until the universe
unwinds, ending time
and we become
untold stories
in the void.

It’s a dark night.
And I sit here,
Cigarette choking me.
But I realise I have learnt so much.
One thing I realised,
Through the tortured delusions,
Is that I am strong.
You taught me strength.
To crawl through the mud,
Dust my bones from the ashes,
They didn’t dissolve in the flames set alight by you.
You taught me,
I can unbury my head,
Push out the heavy smoke
And breathe.
Especially when the lights are gone
And nothing seems tangible.
You taught me to grab a hold,
And pull myself out.

letting go of all words, unkind
just as one leaves
another weaves in
with nimble branches
threaded through the needle
and no thimble to protect.

wisdom is within
answers in plain sight
why then like cupid
was i painted blind?

i wish to see the unseen
to know what i seek
but my vision turned outward
keeps me unclean
my fingernails dirtied
by digging to unbury
roots of dancing leaves
on nimble branches
swaying toward every whim

The grip in my hands will soon loose
and I'll fall into a quiet preferred
because after thought the path I'll choose
will be the way of a coward.

I'm tired of wasting lonely nights
with a bottle by my side
letting the sorrows of past's frights
play throughout my mind.

The tears have never stopped
whether it's inside or for the eyes
and putting on a brave faced opt  
would just unbury old lies

I'm tired and I'm over
the dragging on depression
you put me here without sober
into your lashing out aggression.

Their will be no regret
when I finally let go
of what little is left
of my life tomorrow.