I’ll never start a fight
Indeed you start the flame,
And I’ll explode
Perhaps it’s my crimson hair that attack’s my soul
But stereotypical propaganda aside
I have nothing to hide
Indeed you call me out
I’ll trash your name
I live for love and peace
But there’s only so much hate one woman can’t escape
I beg for release
And pity your air
You walk with your noise so high
All just to hide your shame inside
All while making me look the fool
But I refuse to take blame for something I didn’t do  
I’ll never start a fight, it’s beneath me
But I will finish it
And sometimes it’s in the unlikeliest of ways
But the best part is really just not caring what the hell you say
Your words rot and decay like ash to the wind
I like to blow them and spit fire, it’s just the way I am
I don’t take any kinda mess or fuss
It’s beneath me

©Jessica Stull

The unlikeliest place to find confidence
A boosted self esteem,
When others tore and ripped my mind,
My body image,
Bullied as a child and fourth it continued,
It never seized to amaze me,
The comments they threw,
Like stones they did harm me,
My name was ugly
I named myself unique
My name was freaky
I named myself limited
My name was what many thought I was then,
I named myself what I would be now.
I grew then to be the same as before,
Or so I had thought,
One day arrived at my college life,
Your camera flashed and I began to feel
Different...
They named me ugly
You made it feel as though I wasn't
They named me a freak
You used me for art
To this day,
Years after that,
Thanks to you,
I don't feel so ugly
Don't feel as much like a freak,
You showed me,
I can be infront of the camera and not always behind it.
Thank you,
For being more than a photographer,
More than a friend,
You were a boost to this bullied little girl's self worth and self esteem!

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

Reality is pretty funny
Between the strains and pains
And hunger pangs
And people who think bangs still look good
When they never did
Not even in the eighties

I've just been looking for happiness
And I found it in the most unlikeliest of places
A morbid place of loss and sorrow
Called Burger King
I bought some onion rings
And they were crispy enough!!!!!

Still I lose
Still I hold onto
What I never held in the first place
And I lose my faith
And I lose my hope
But I still find a place for humor

I still laugh

And I'm the king
Who you want to be
I'll have empty hands and empty pockets
But everything is mine

So grab those onion rings
With both hands
And let the crispness guide you

The book of Laments.

Lamentation
is a three sided occupation
that we're all occupied with.

Triangles are a turn on
for this Pythagorean.

I find connections in the unlikeliest of places
I always have done, though
this third son of a second son never made it past
the seventh grade.

Sometime time expired when the meter reader's tired
and the perimeter is the limiter and the brain goes into overdrive
then it's difficult, but I will survive and the
black and white is cruising
down another memory lane
and hearing a blast from the past,
thinks it's a gunshot.

It runs on under steam and in the steam
the fogs of dreams, I've seen
where ***** grinder's monkeys grin

In the unlikeliest of faces where a kindness lurks,
good works have been orchestrated.

When nothing is sacred and there is no sin
we might as well be living from
the outside within,
where the devil drinks blood on the streets of the 'hood
and the good die young,
never place a reliance on chance,
you won't ever win,so
get used to living from the outside within.

Save me a seat at the table and we'll meet the prophet of doom,forget
empty places,the faces you knew,
the living goes on and the dead never do,but it's true and we know, seeds
of hatred can grow in the unlikeliest space,
and on the dead sands of biblical lands a trumpet will sound when the ground opens up and swallows,
I see it must follow on from where we went wrong and I wonder if this is the twenty first plague,
hard to gauge when you live from the outside within,hard to know if it's true and if so what to do.
When nothing is sacred and Lord Melqart is king we shall all be the same living from outside within.

When Hector and Virginia moved onto the acreage,
Beneath and hidden under
The broad smile of a couple who had finally made it,
They felt the shadow of disappointment,
That always comes with the realization of a dream.

Of course at first,
There was the excitement.
Small explosions of rat-ta-tat conversation,
As they walked the outline of a house with a big back porch,
The back and forth as they
Chose a spot and then another and another
For the dog’s kennel,
The smile and sigh
As they scooped up the black earth
And dirtied their city hands and manicured fingernails,
Imagining a real garden with six foot corn.

And now, Hector couldn’t keep his hands off her.
On the day the sale closed he seduced her in the van,
While parked at Safeway,
The security guard had to ask them to leave,
And Virginia couldn’t resist flashing him her ***** and a smile,
Which the guard nervously thanked her for.  

When on their first visit to their new land,
Virginia suggested a lover’s hammock with a view of the valley,
Hector embraced her standing up,
Her hands raw against the rough bark of the big oak,
The wild approval of coyote howls as their pheromones
Announced a new predator had arrived, a new competitor in play.

He was constantly feeling her up outdoors,
Begging her to go *******,
Mostly so he could lather the sunscreen,
Over her *******,
Arousing in her some Paleolithic urge,
That made her brazenly offer herself on all fours.

An unspoken ' wanna’ from either one of them,
Just a look really,
Sometimes right in the middle
Of some earnest discussion about money or bylaws
And they’d make for the mattress in the trailer.
Their performance loud and operatic,
Jesus, they could have used bull horns
And not disturbed a neighbour or a passerby.

So it was hard to understand the dark border
That discoloured the edge and frame of their beautiful dream.
It was everything they wanted,
But getting it,
Left a tiny bubble of disappointment
That neither of them,
Could understand or accurately describe.

The house got built; the dogs loved the smells of danger and freedom,
The vegetables grew with astonishing speed and ease.
The *** was daily if not twice
And Hector became a pro at going down on her,
Licking her to multiple *******
In the unlikeliest of places and at the most unusual of times.

What is it, Virginia asked him one day.
I’m not sure, Hector replied and began to pull gently on his ear lobe,
A sure sign he was holding back,
I’m restless he finally admitted and I don’t like it.
I get it, Virginia replied,
We found paradise and we‘re getting bored with it.

What the hell is wrong with us, Hector asked and let go of his earlobe.
We die no matter what we achieve, Virginia replied,
And I think it is this unforgettable realization,
This Garden of Eden knowledge,
That it all ends no matter what.
That everyone dies and disappears
Means death will always undermine happiness, she said.

So what do we do, Hector was mentally ******* her again.
**** as often as we can, she said
And accept sadness as our most natural state of mind.
To be sad is to be normal, Hector asked.
To be sad is inevitable, Virginia responded, it cannot be avoided,  
And she knelt down in front him.

Dead Stone
The marble being dead then why does energy surge through my soul and my heart becomes inflamed
Cold lifeless hard but still waves of love assail most gentle as a mantle it ascends within its cloak genius
Breaks all norms the brain mysteriously charged down it flows through shoulders arms and at last in
Fingers you caress with voice you speak of its promise you hold it with a hard look that matches its
Own hard exterior but deep within the softest pulse beat is felt creative desire takes it’s first faltering
Steps heart of flesh seized by the stones hidden riches blindness drops away as powerful tantalizing
Sight holds you there is no release from its grip this will only occur after you have rendered and freed
The statue within after an arduous labor of love a young women will stand before you her place in the
World will be varied but always extraordinary your personal vision you see her set within a grotto that opens to a open air couryard where
Lovers stroll especially at night with amber lights low assisted by the great enhancement of loves
Singular powerful beams silver moonlight it strikes her they fall to revered silence already in intense
Moods that flow with the softest feelings all aglow now breath taking in holy hushes they hold hands
Whisper words that the depths of the heart only can utter mesmerizing privilege is observed on their
Collected countenance made by the powerful visual impression they feel she being lifeless although
Gives greatest testament to life and true possible expectation the sculpture went beyond known regions
Of expression he unknowingly passed into sacred dreams and touched the heart of the impossible and
Then cast it in the unlikeliest reality marble stone.

Turn the sound on your
dressing gown down
douse the lights
listen to the night,
rustling leaves leave lots to the
imagination and
all the time in creation to
Imagine
monsters hiding under the bed
in the bathroom
in your head
wake up
one day you'll be dead
and
was that the Moon that I saw
hanging on an unlikely thread?

Answer me this,
how can salmon run without any legs?
a fisherman's story and another unlikely
thread.

Behind the bike shed
I kissed a redhead
an unlikelier thread?

Sunday is the unlikeliest
or so the trick cyclist
tells me.

the worldwide battle,
drowned in the blood of
all races and stained with
the spittle of darkness,
had reached its last breath;
as the two unlikeliest of
heroes climbed into the liquid
fire, the bravest of them all
stood against the horde of
the last evil one.
after centuries, the king was
crowned, and the people
were freed, at last, from the
fear of the black land.
some of our heroes adventured
on to their green holes and
blooming forests and sparkling
caves, whole but seeing
the world anew.
but the rest were left
transformed, present in body
and flesh but wandering of mind.
those few gathered at the harbor
and left their tale at the docks,
marking the beginning of a new
age for their loyal companions,
another extraordinary story
never to be told.

in those concluding moments,
the last words printed so delicately,
i felt a part of my soul leave
from the harbor also.
the cessation of a story is sometimes
a wonderful and beautiful passage,
but my eyes wept the tears of
a bittersweet end to the first epic
that moved my heart to swelling delight.
as the perfectly sculpted vessel sailed
with poise into the golden sunset,
i felt another sunset within myself,
not gold but blue and purple.
it was the culmination of a fantastic
journey, and dusk fell upon me.

Share me the light you’ve won with efforts
Not lazy; I'm just too weak to learn anew
My bones crack, my brain's old, my spirit dims out
I don't have the strength to replant what once grew

These screams in my ears are too real
This pang of pain, this grief; excruciating
“Just jump into it,” they say, with no feel
They’ve never lived, yet keep advising

I set up my own path, a line of antique bricks
It ran from my backyard to the village temple
And ruined it was, by men hunting for relics
While I was on a trip to preach and fix a muddle

I built a new path in the next following days
A stronger one, lined with fine wooden fences
And I left again to dispel lies and hearsays
Protecting strangers from possible offenses

Coming home to find my soul path torn down
I reminded myself, "They knew not what they did"
I fixed it once more, then went to a sacred town
All prayers to gods to take care of what I built

Years after blessing mortals and doing good,
I returned to my lovely birthplace and cried
Seeing my house flat on the ground, my path removed
I told myself, “This slight unease won’t take my light”

I could weave wisdom from unlikeliest sources
Stones, mountains, a witch’s curse, a ghost’s wail
I've turned many wounds into revered forces
A weakling to strength, a stuck ship to sail

Too busy with other people’s plights
I thought my light was self-sustaining
It was not eternal as I was told—it died
Had to pretend it was there and burning

The sun of my youth has set in the west
Under the dark, I’m now awaiting stars
Despite its howl, I’ll force my heart to rest
None I can teach it, but accepting its scars

Share me the light you have learned
This passing time I cannot back turn

obim,
the most beautiful thing about loving you
are the things i learn about love;
how it can be synonym for wings
and how loving the right woman
was a metaphor for flying, higher
than all the hurdles that used to be a blockade

igosirim na ihu n’anya bu ije
you taught me that love was a journey
and one with purpose
so that it explained a reason
for holding on to life
when difficulties scatter all over
like question marks on a blank sheet
the love we shared became the answer
that explained the destination
at the end of the obscure roads that life was

obim, loving you made me into a philosopher
that searched for optimism
in the unlikeliest of places which turned out
to be the most beautiful

because everything becomes beautiful around you
and when we are out together at night,
I see the face of hope, redressed
in the twinkle stars far up in the sky
when we walk around the parks in the evening,
I perceive music in the chirping of crickets
when we hold hands as we walked together
and you press mine, I feel myself melting into you

it is not that the problems of life go away
sometimes, they come knocking on my door
dressed in their intimidating doses
then I remember, it is you who shares this path with me
and that love is a synonym for wings
and loving you, a metaphor for flying past hurdles
so I fasten my seatbelts and fly
obim, loving you is a safe journey through these rough roads.

Where do you find love ?

Do you find love in the unlikeliest of places or where it obviously seems to be ? Is love given like a gift , maybe a curse to bear ?

Is love in between pages of books and lines of notes to form a song or in stanzas of poems ?

And how do we find it ? Do we pray or wish on every star you see at night , maybe you come by it as you walk sidewalks and streets

Or perhaps if you look for it in faraway places amongst the mountains and the trees ? Maybe you'll find it.

Love is an enigmatic thing , it slips away just as it is within you reach , so I guess love is getting lucky , a stroke of luck bringing with it a handful of happiness.

Rising From The First Galaxy, This Ubiquitous Love Tsunami Crashes Into The Cosmic Architecture With The Transcendent Fierceness Of Youthful Yearning

I adore delightful wind scattered kisses  
that you left for me in a paper bag  
crinkled to the brim with boisterous galactic dreams

stars spin as two pairs of eyes leap together
into the scintillating stardust horizon  
that echoes with love's eternal enchantment  

cradled hearts pull back curtains that  vibrate across oceans of eons,
full spectrum blossoming of superstrings ripe with quantum entanglement,  
driftwood shaped into a lover's captured face,  
an utterly devout gaze carved by your gentle, skillful hands  

laying down sleepwise, we entrust fate to join us again and again
in the sounds of tearful reunion, of ******* delight,  
technology rusted until the jaws of nature  
crush it into something verdant and renewed

imagination spark,
arc of hungry starlight pressing into voracious lips,
you, scalded into my heartcore,  
imprinted like flowers saved in a closed book of poetry,  
set upon a precious mantle,
years of soot from the fireplace below enriching  
what it means to traipse upon the blade of sentience
in an unchoreographed dance of worship

the movement of these hands in front of this face,  
an orchestration of so many elements and moments,  
painted femininity in silk robes,  
shadows chanting choruses of epic tales of love lost  
and eventually rediscovered in the unlikeliest of places

each breath is wingflutter,  
swooning for sunshine that blazes warmth onto this face like the planet's swan song,  
high atmospheric diving against the crisp cerulean blue

I take your arm in mine,  
placing hands in the fountain of truth,  
a cosmos spun majestically,  
like the curves of your face;
a living sculpture, apex of all summer sunsets

and I know only that my life began  
the first time I reached out for you in the darkness,
my hobbled form choked with dirt light years long,
that you gather into bundles that you tell me will one day become stars

lady of the verse,
speechless delving into words,
adorn me with the dynamic heartflow of tasted mountaintop clouds,
I am the midnight garland caressing your supple skin,
nearing sleep, yet wandering far away from the fruiting orchard of your eyes,
exploring the sundry universes of your mind and body,
passion's forgotten time traveler

as your silhouetted frame repositions itself in the restfulness of darkness,  
I am the one draped in the tapestry of awareness,  
hand upon your meaningful hip,  
a kiss upon your cheek that shall linger like a neutron star,
visiting you in hungry fever dream rivulets
that trickle steadily into the ever shifting horizon
of your cherished and rampaging mindscape

Sometimes the painful truth
is all you have to go on
finding inspiration
in the unlikeliest of places.

Why go looking
For god
When In the unlikeliest places
God will find
You

She embodied the force of the wind.
The wildest rivers ran through her veins.
She was persistent, growing in the unlikeliest of places.
She longed to belong.
Her soul was hardened but soft beneath
She grew in the soil, dark and wet and difficult,
But she learned to fly on the wind.
She became a seed with a wandering heart.
She learned to live outside of the darkness she came from.
She learned to grow her wings and she taught herself to be free.

We took the photos down from the wall
we couldn't bear to look at them all.
But thoughts of you crept in my mind
they never were far behind.
I tore through the pages of the photo albums
trying to remember
but my mind was so clouded.
A younger you and a younger me
my heartbeat raced
it was trying to break free.
It broke everyone when you left
1 - 2- 3 we were missing a guest
the missing seat
the missing card
my mind tormented, my mind scarred.
Still -
unable to utter to the others
the pain swirling inside still undiscovered
still unwilling to escape
surely your exit was a mistake.
The emotions of loss come in the unlikeliest of waves
and I thought of us then, in the sea
memories that I cannot suppress.
Walking past the living room,
where I expect to see you smile
but no one is there and they haven't been for a while
All our lives, they flow like waves
I will think of you
the rest of my days.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                The Back Yard Museum of Art

Children are the truest arbiters of art
Finding beauty in the unlikeliest things:
A bottle cap, a rusted auto part
Metal washers, broken glass, cigar rings

A discarded knife with a broken blade
One dime-store earring with one rhinestone
A greenish bit of plastic – can it be jade?
And a real-life, genuine dinosaur bone!

Art nicely displayed along the fence row -
Adults think it just junk, but what do they know?

TW: Self harm, suicide

Why is the “s” word not talked about?
Why can’t people be more aware?
Keep a look out for those
Those in despair?


Why are those who think of or do the “s” word
Judged so badly?
Looked down upon
Like something is wrong with them?



Why can’t they be helped?
Why can’t they find someone to talk to, someone who will stay, and find help for them?
No matter what?


Why are those who finally muster enough courage to tell someone about how they are feeling,

Greeted with faces of disgust and anger?

And are shown that others have no home, no food, but are still fighting strongly, unlike them?

Can’t you understand how hard it was?

To finally try and find someone they trust?

The last thing they need,trust me, is someone telling them that there feelings are unatural and irrational.



Why are those who think of doing the “s” word

Looked upon as very weak and selfish

Can you not see?

Their brain is constantly telling them

You are a waste of space, and a burden

They aren’t being selfish.

In fact, quite the opposite.

They are trying to not be on a burden on the ones they love

The feel that they have no contribution to this planet

The self-hatred constantly encircling their mind.

Hammering them till it kills them.

Why can’t you see that?



They need help, can’t you see?

Someone to tell them that they are loved, faithfully

That they have a purpose, a very important one

That once they will be gone, it’ll never be the same they will find, all along



So please, please keep a lookout

Even on the unlikeliest ones

They may need a friend, as you’ll see

They don’t like being like this and having to hurt the ones around them

So they feel it’s better to end their misery and that of the ones around them, quickly.


Please keep checking up on them to make sure they are safe

Safe at home, in a responsible place

Please take any weapons or pills so they can do no more

Comfort them when they feel that way, especially at night


Stay with them, please,

Check in frequently.

They really really need you, trust me.


If you cannot help, or give advice much,

Just listen to them please

Comfort them

Wipe their tears



Look out for certain scars or cuts, in places like the arms or legs

They can’t stop those urges on their own

Yes, I know, it seems like they are being stupid, but I can truly tell you if you were in their place, you might end up in that way too.


Please remember in their head they are not being unreasonable, but trying to make the world better for those around them

Suffice to say they know some will hurt, but think they will get over it in the end

May I say depression changes a way a person thinks, not in a very nice way

And sometimes, it may even be the little things that are big to them, that make them feel that way



They may have distanced themselves from the people they love, in order not to hurt them

Or they may have no friends, and show no signs of trying to make any at all

For they don’t want to hurt and be a burden on others more than they already are

They may smile or laugh, but when you see

The smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes, their eyes crinkling up in happiness no more

Please look carefully.

They may to stay at home and show start to show no interest

And not find joy in things they used to love

Sit quietly on their own for long periods, and rest

They don’t care about anything anymore you see

Nothing, nothing at all

And this feeling

Heavy feeling in their heart?

That they are a waste of space and a burden?

It is exhausting

It takes all the energy out of you

Drains you out thoroughly

Till you have no energy or courage left to fight



Some days may be good and some may be bad

But don’t let them make you think they’re okay now

Because they truly aren’t, and trying not to be a burden on you

Recovering is a long process

And the feelings?

They may creep up on them anytime, slowly



So I plead, please keep a lookout for them

If not help the others on a large scale, I choose to start by raising awareness for those around me

For,

I really

Really

Don’t want others

To meet

The same destiny

As me.




An extension:


Can’t you understand how hard it was?

To finally try and find someone they trust?

The last thing they need,trust me, is someone telling them that there feelings are unatural and irrational.


Just hug them and tell them.


"It's going to be okay,

I'm going to help you,

You did it alone for so long, and so you are very strong.

But now,you don't have to do this alone anymore.

We both are in this together.

We are going to overcome this.

And you, are truly loved, and worth it.

You,have a purpose, in someones life at the least.

So come along, rise up, be strong, conquer it, i'll be here along with you.

Every step of the way"

With truth.