HAPPY 44TH LATE BIRTHDAY GEE!

:)

Everytime the door chimes
It makes me remember the times
When you didn't give a dime
And made me think i committed a crime,
When i let you go
But now my heart an earthquake you know
You made it so easy to leave
And made me believe
That i was the problem all along
But did we ever belong?

You made me soft;
A Marshmallow drop that melted sweetness,
and tasted like nostalgia on your tongue
In that place where camps fires smoked and we smouldered,
Orange with a glow
that crackled envy,
I saw forever in those flames.
Just a little tiny taste of eternity
Reaching for me, as I reached for you.
I curled and crisped,
Dribbled into that abyss
and bubbled up in the heat.

Is fifteen days too soon?
I think I might be starting to fall for you.

Pain Is Such A ‘Pain’

Besides discomfort, pain’s a pest;
A nuisance, bother, hinder,
At its worst or best
A hurt that quashes thinking’s process:
On the list of inconvenience highest.

Common idioms in use:
‘Pain the neck’ ‘pain in the ***’.
****** yes, but two most graphic!
To be optimistic,
Usually, it takes a rest;
Not long, perhaps, but any pause
Is better than no pause at all,
The standstill most appreciated.

If it’s un-retreating, un-vacating, un-evacuatable,
Make a vehicle that’s readable -
And write!

Pain Is Such A Pain 4.14.2021 I Is always You Is We; Circling Round Experience;Arlene Nover Corwin

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

The pastor preaching
A church was full
It was a Sunday
In the Afternoon

Full of emotions
A faster heart beat
It was a Sunday
In the afternoon.

Searching a new pathway
Found me sitting there
It was a Sunday
In the afternoon

Not really expecting
A voice hear so bold
It was a Sunday
In the afternoon

He was clearly
Calling my name
It was a Sunday
In the afternoon.

we are naught but a passage in history
to be swept away at the turn of the page

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

&
 
we walked on up near the copper mine , a darker place.                          got to thinking.
 
&
 
it comes as no suprise. often ill they die.                                   it is the way.     it is not sad.
 
&
we are sensed with  loss.                                                                  ­               that includes you.
 
he says that’s where the wind comes from,                                       to go most everywhere.
 
&
 
probably do not miss him.                       he was not around us much, well  not at all really.
he buggered off.   no inspiration then.                                                   yet.   he was my dad.
 
&
 
some day i will carry the bones inside.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Close to my roots
But you have to dig deeper for this forbidden fruit

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

catch some rays
where the sun blaze
on the **** days

I'm Moses
where can I flee
between the red sea
Egyptian army
are behind me

sink into a deckchair
boulder inside my chest
dancing with a feet bare
on a sandy beach, I know I'm very blessed

tranquil waters
let me be uncaged

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

at the end of the afterlife,
when the dust finally settles,
she climbs into a warm bed
made of soft, wispy clouds,
listening to lilting melodies,
from her childhood memories,
falling into a peaceful slumber.

I desire to leave, to dispear, to slip quietly into the night
On the last bus out, to the last possible stop
Discreetly removing the trail as I go
And with it every memory I left behind
When the sun rises, so will they
And there'd be nothing left of me
No clothes, no books, no wall marks
No face, no voice, no tingle of a touch
I was there, now I am here
Burn everything behind, and get lost in the new

My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

Would you believe I miss the cold?
That mudererous, diabolical cold?
The cold that penetrates your clothes,
Cracks your skin and soaks your nose.
I miss the painful freezing snow,
The silence as it falls so slow,
So delicate a cold hearted killer,
Soul less, yet I miss it so
I miss her dark towers
I miss her wretched winds,
Her army of thunderstorms
Her howling trees
They say I live in paradise,
But I want Windy more.
Forever Summer when I liked the snow,
I left because I had to.
But now I miss her so
Her trifling seasons,
Her depressing nights
I miss it all.
What's more depressing than the unpredictable?
The same thing every day
The same, boring, beautiful.
Like a dream when you just want to sleep,
A paradise you never asked for
Time slows, but still out of reach
Life stops so far from home
But try to return, and everything's changed
And everyone's different,
Though you feel the same,
No one remembers you
A stranger from a foreign land
A time traveler from a bygone age
I'll take the freezing bitter cold,
Over the freezing bitter change
You're not the Windy I knew
I'm not the boy you lost
We both have changed forever
We've grown even farther apart
We both aged,
Both for the worst.
You're not the same city,
I'm no longer a boy.

She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote

why must i care
for a world so unforgiving
why must i be
when there is no point in living

the world pushes and pulls
with all of its might
never a happy ending
nearing my sight

so as a stand
at an intersection a few
tell me, world
what must i do

why need i
care oh so much
when a world of nothing
has me in its clutch

need i always put myself
in the way of harm
when apathy already
has me in its arms

I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.

A slender figure
Wrapped in a flowing fortress of red
Twirling around
In the world of peace
It’s all forgotten
Till the figure stands still
The music stops
And the red hangs down
Like a weeping tree
Alas life must go on.

My eyes watch
as the sky
is painted with colors of
soft blues & white fluffs
to
vivid pinks & dazzling oranges.

Soon to be
pitch blacks & deep violets
with tiny bright lights
speckled on with flicks of His brush.

Soon to be tomorrow,
strokes of
happy yellows & stunning golds.

Interlinked with the power of the angel and the beast

The creature is the morphological structure of the creation

He wears the finely sculpted fibers of flesh as his adornment

This ecstatic being touches the sky with his mind

He was brilliantly created by inertia of the dark energy

And conceived within the mind of the Genius

You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.

i remember
your favorite
flower.
do you
remember
my name?

Drown me in ink.
I don't want to see anything.
I want to be choked out
On the one thing that gives life meaning.

Slit my wrists with paper.
I don't want to live anymore.
I want to bleed crimson onto the page
And give meaning to the words I write.

smart, popular boys in third grade,
with their stupid khakis
and dumb sweatshirts.
i didnt want their popularity,
i wanted to be a boy.
a smart boy with stupid khakis
and a dumb sweatshirt

the kind, pretty girls in fourth grade
their pretty hair
and painted nails
i didnt want to be a pretty girl like them
i admired them
but i was too young,
and it was too wrong

it was wrong to want to be a boy,
to want to love a girl,
want to be a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails

i should've been the perfect daughter,
but im a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails.

Now I have never kissed you before

But I have imagined it.
What it might feel like
Or what you might do

Some people say it’s magical
But do you think that’s true?

Because my Father says it’s like a raindrop,
Now I don’t understand that too

But he’s had a lot more experience than me
If I had to guess what he meant
I would say it’s soft,
Welcoming,
And sends a chill down your spine,
Is a little uncomfortable at first
But in the end, it will be just fine.

If this is true, then it’s not how it feels that makes it magical
It’s the fact I’ll be doing it with you.

Limbs tangled
Relaxed
Gentle warmth
Distant TV noises
Golden light through window
Silences, never awkward
Perfect conversations
Shared jokes and laughter
This is the desired comfortable