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Hannah Gold Jun 2017
Quit picking at your old wounds! Stop going for walks in aches and pains you already made it through. You call it healing... yet it sounds like a good way to take the haunted with you.

    Loneliness is a no vacancy sign for an empty room on the backside of your chest. There will never be enough people to love that emptiness out of you. Love won't save you!
Only you will save you! Remember no matter how much you think you need a voice at the other end of the line...

     It's a felony to call 911 just because you need someone to talk to.
You can't shrink into radio static and heavily breathe on the other end of your phone. Your aching doesn't end in an ambulance! Now breathe... yes you may have heard this once or twice. But BREATHE!

    I know you got ribs like on the wrongside of a fist fight. That's from hyperventilating. Your lungs just survived a car crash from the inside of your body. Be gentle... please! Find the pocket of your heartbeat where you keep forgiveness. We will try again tomorrow!

    I know you got a bone to pick with tomorrow... but too late it's coming. Listen in a few hours your withered world will turn herself right side up again and you'll forget all about tonight. The night she left you to drown in her song of blues!

    Your will make sense again. You think you've seen every ugly corner that our erupting Earth offers. Yet there are an infinite number of things we don't know and... statistically speaking half of the unknown is beautiful!
Hannah Gold May 2017
When Light craved your soul to see in kissing colors
as the evening envisioned to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered for learning, as blood bespoke to her bones
for building the star of flesh, when Time needed the resentment
of its ubiquity to be understood. The moment texture lured touch to
tease with a thousand sensations, when the labor of love sought a language
to express the extremes of its lips, as romance raged through the ravishing of
hardened hearts, when sorrow’s seduction made heroes of loving men and women.

When Justice is seduced to her innocent words,
as bravery battled the basic questions of conquest,
war demands a metaphor in the terror of its destruction,
as Faith finds resolutions to her problems in seconds,
Death wallows for relief and Life’s supercilious meaning upon its skyline.
When God wanted imagination to invent immaculate existence…
Poetry began, born as an eternal being,
because, the only vow of a Poet, is Passion!
**any suggested titles?**
Hannah Gold May 2017
As the wave of worries crept beyond the cracks of the ocean floor.
Water levels rise and I call out for you. Help... please... help! But you told me: Swim on your own you don't need me!
   As your words escaped the sea salt strangle me. Gasping- for -air... searching for you! Yet alone I reside in Poseidon's palace, surrounded by trees that once stood tall.
   In the distance I see a home, our home, broken brick-by-brick.  As the roof slowly caved in bit-by-bit. Misplaced memories scattered throughout... flashbacks from our happy home now engulfed by the seiche of the Salish sea!
   Thoughts of thorough talks between you-and-I...  you told me:            
I'll always be by your side! Yet I'm still alone drowning in water that no longer surrounds me.  Fatigued from your flares of fallacy!
   Drained-drowned-crippled-crushed!
Mother... Father, where did you go?
Hannah Gold May 2017
Elusive eyes embrace thousands of faces which hold horrors that take root in one's subconscious.Like the stories stored deep within her scars. Or his longevity leaving through the slits on his wrists.Hoping things are different...Your story may have a happy ending but they just reached their ******.  

     Living beneath a flag symbolizing solidarity. Yet separation remains within each region, state, and city! Freedom is just another figment of one's mind! It's odd how God's perfect possessions are possessed with vicious vitality...Someone is speaking but the other's aren't listening. In strife with our speculations during the night when our sincerity strangles us!

     Weeping in our sleep wishing to wake to mama's pancakes, while politicians pollute our lives with handshakes.Minds racing while one's body is still! Inhumane humans and an unbalance between the rich and poor. Speaking truth on the unjust, yet they close their doors... Buried beneath four walls! Oblivious of one's inner demons dancing on their graves, listen to our creator as he speaks.

     He exclaims that we skip serenity and our minds fixate on the wealth we don't obtain! As another man yearns to earn as much as you...How could you sleep? When the other man doesn't have enough to eat! Focused on trivial tribulations... While she's praying she'll live to meet tomorrow. Enslaved by our own mental decree!

     Remember no matter your status we're not all gonna live to see tomorrow... so break free of your mental chains and ask yourself if your faith lies in the hands of the created or the creator?
Hannah Gold May 2017
Zinfandel smothers her face now red like the liquid she consumes            
Yesterday creates a fond memory as her
Xenophobic restraints keep her concealed from the
Wilderness of concrete jungles that hold terror, reflecting upon the
Vines of her life that once desired to flourish are now
Useless and forever in thrones of isolation
Tasting courage, she attained strength from the bottle
Savoring every drop while reality taunted with a titter
Reinventing Eve she is now one with the snake
Quivering against scales of skin that her sin lives in
Promises whispered in her ear, there's plans to be made
Otherwise the lies of others eyes would surely make her sad
Nothing the snake could say would be wrong to ringing ears
Mischievous, there is only masking of raw emotion
Longing for luxury leaning towards a fix she finds her sway
Killing the lights of what is good along the way
Jezebel swell of demons deep in her mind
Hopelessness no longer her enemy she rides on dragons with puffed pride
Gluttony itches her enemy she may run, never hide
Falsity drips destiny from a candle burning from both ends
Eluding simplicity of sobriety, she's the devil's best friend
Demons defile her mind as days grow deserted and dark
Courage creates confusion, purity doesn't sustain a spark
Bound by the bottle suffused with chemical chaos
As she falls on a sword when faced with mortality
Hannah Gold May 2017
Im shaken awaken by how Im screaming
Running from my demons, God woke me right before they killed me
I dont understand the purpose but I know he has a reason

  Well God if you dont mind me asking, send me more angels
See...Lucifer is wilding and he got it out of me,
You know the thing my soul struggles to keep out
While my flesh fights to keep it in

  God I know you got me but sometimes it's hard to keep believing
Im tempted by all these tainted temptations
Quickly losing my mind, followed by sleep deprivation

  You see, I had a dream I went to Heaven and saw Satan
Lord help...please, I cant do this on my own
Over stressing intertwined with depression
Now vulnerable to the world's diluted deceptions

  Lord, what are you trying to teach me?
Can we please cheat on this lesson?
Hannah Gold May 2017
My truth is I'm drowning in seas of mistakes
as the waves of pressure crash over me.

The truth is I've allowed fear to enter the dark
corners of my mind. I told him he may only stay
for a little while... I promise!

But now I'm to afraid to let this fear escape.

The truth is I'm scared... terrified to let you in
because my tainted thoughts poison pure minds.

My truth is anxiety and depression devour my soul
as darkness moves from one corner to the other...
leaving trails of suicidal sticky notes.

Some say: Remember when she said,
"You're just another fat helpless victim of society."
Or when he said,
"You're worthless we rather you dead!"

The truth is the world sees me as the frail twig.
Not the sturdy tree!
Hannah Gold May 2017
As the moon sank
I heard a faint flow
Of an inky darkness
In a cry of a gifted owl
I should think it's nothing
But the cricket in a crook
Is humming hymns
Of surplus stillness
That has yet to come
Hannah Gold May 2017
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words... will hurt me

Now Believing I'll never be loved

That I'll forever be trapped in thrones of isolation
You say I'm too weak, to dumb to meet anyone who makes me feel
alive, as if they created the moon and stars just for me

On the inside a broken heart seeks sympathy
While on the outside my heart hardens
As I empty every emotion so I may feel nothing
Now dont tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
Hannah Gold May 2018
They say Im to white to be black
because I speak with eloquence, intelligence and class.
Yet when did me speaking right equate me to speaking white?
Im to white to be black 
because Im "to nice," while the other black girls
speak reckless and are selfish.
Im to white to be black 
because I don't typically listen to rap.
I'm to white to be black
because my skin is a shade or two lighter than you.

They say Im to black to be white 
because I drink grape kool-aid 
and statistically speaking Im bound to be under paid.
Im to black to be white
because i like "black girl" names.
I guess they failed to inform me when names were
 associated with the color of my skin.
Im to black to be white
because of my thick thighs and chocolate curls.
Im to black to be white 
because im a shade or two darker than you.
Hannah Gold May 2017
Momma always compares me to the trees
She says... I'm tall, thin, and free spirited in the wind
But now I lay before you as a trembling tree!

    Attacked by the axe of ambulance, due to my
decomposing disease. Ligaments languish as fragmented
foliage and organs become tainted tangerines!

    As my conscious collides with the wind... Ivy of my illness
binds my tethered trunk, spiders of suicide descend down branches!
Crawling beyond broken bark... cracking my vitiated vision!

    As the sun sank into our garden of healthy hilarity.
My withered wood fades into a cloud come with  no stellar stars or stealthy skies.

    After all these years... where are my pastures of prayer?
Where is my happy ending?!?
I await for the decorum... as this deathly deluge devours me!
Hannah Gold May 2017
I cry sometimes. Enhancing this deluge of delirium. With a drop which flows from my face to the flood of Earth’s clay as I inhale this bitter breeze of our garden’s grief! Seeing your withered wood… I breathe deep… Inhale… Exhale…

   And hope that these frivolous feelings will bottle up after this bottle is downed! Words now trapped…it’s a joke…but this is no banter of your basil  bush! This is a garden now growing with grief, which subdues layers of our sacred memories, suppressing sadness and carries on until my rancid lungs collapse…

   But… I don’t die. I just-carry on. Watching your roots rot… As this decomposing disease devours your soul!  My soul slowly sinks into the mud. Yearning to find you six-feet-under. Beneath the sublime beauty of our orchids. To the place where Hades resides...      

   I miss the touch of your hands. The lingering sensation of your waning wood intertwined with my vines.  My fingertips now feel the burn of Hell! I learnt that this burn won’t melt, it just burns, until your whole bodies submerges and turns what they’ll learn and all their concerns into nothing! Because I guess everyone dies…

   Even if they don't deserve it...well I may have deserved it because I'm depicted as the ideal image of man yet they watch as my green leaves burn brown and… and this ivy poisons my rich roots. But this isn't a cry for help, it’s a letter, poem, or whatever you want to call this… This is my message to you!
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                
   Yes, angels are heavenly but even if they’re with me…they can't get inside my mind and help me flourish in this Hell on Earth. The one you left me in! So I thank them…but I’ve handled enough forced sympathy. I'd rather be with some boys and ***** and listen to a simple symphony. There I can cry... myself …and become one with the flood                    
from this deluge of delirium!
Hannah Gold May 2017
Leave me visible like a vagrant dog in a deluge...
I'll hear your whisper in the wind, embrace your essence
in the rain, and see the secluded skies..

     When the rain is subtle I will know that something
has tempered you... But when the rain rages I'll know that
something has imparted panic upon you!

     And in this inherited intellect lacking eyes, ears, hands, or lips...
Our limp lumber would eternally rest in Earth's clay.Envision, the squall streaming through a patch of wildflowers...

    In my disorder gardens of myself flourished. Buds of curiosity burgeoning from my eyes! It would be our knuckles, rigid, prancing pebbles meant for progenies' play, and the sinful sun weaving it's way through your missing molars!

   Countless days go unnoticed and nights unslept... We'll speak with our soul through breached bones, where our tendons once thrived!  Imagine, your cranium and mine both mitigated to  matter.

   Both refined from our faults, and our skins going young again, disregarding the reason we ever wrinkled! A chance to cleanse our aura once more... May I become dust with you?
My trembling tree...
Hannah Gold Oct 2017
They repressed me from street drugs but never from
the ones with chocolate skin and a heartbeat

They told me how dope dilutes one's mind
Yet they failed to inform me that he would have the same effect

How he would bestow a heavy heart upon me
How depression will reign every time I see him with her

Momma, how come you never steered me from
the feeling of worthlessness and defeat?

Why didn't you warn me about the side effects
or tell me that he is a drug to?
Hannah Gold Jul 2017
Feed off our fraudulence. Our ethereal entity. Help keep the corrupt at shore. Tell me how love will find her way! In times of our adverse adventures. When our bodies lie limp in the sand... As baleful barbarians take to attack. I will be there... just look. Hidden beyond your shadows. Yet I'm still there And when my troubled winds knock me down.. I'll seek comfort in you.
Hannah Gold May 2017
Dear mom
I am not yet born hear me
please dont let the scrounging snakes
or scoundrels near me.

I am not yet born but provide me
with growing grass, talking trees, a blue
bird to sing and the North Star to guide me.

I am not yet born but forgive me
for my thoughts when they write
the words I speak. For my life I have life
yet Im not living. For my death... On that
day it shall be our last shared breathe.

Momma just know Im sorry!

Dear mom
I am not yet born please provide me
with power against those who halt my
humanity, make me a machine's mechanism,
and suffocate my soul. For I am the lively
liquid held in hands... so please let them not
spill me otherwise just... **** me.
Hannah Gold May 2017
Provide me with an everlasting love. Provide me with flourishing vines of vitality. Love me the way Frank Sinatra sings. Please listen and realize I talk too much.No seriously, I talk a lot.  So, feel free to drown me out when it's too much, but never let the water freeze over. Love me like the depths of the sea. Provide me with a love that fills the spaces between your words. Provide me with a love worthy of hearts spilled across pages. Provide me with an everlasting love.
One that kisses the moon and the stars.

— The End —