Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2015 Amanda Fletcher
Bree
I caress
The moon with the tip
Of my fingers dipped
In black polish, smooth.
I dream
Of some huge spaceship
Kissing the stars one
Long light-year away.
I see
The One who will equip
My mind to dream or
Think reality.
 Aug 2014 Amanda Fletcher
Sjr1000
We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.

Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.

When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.

Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.

That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.

I'm sick with
every disease I
know.

I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.
Sometimes it flows softly in your ears
Leaving you in tears
Because the impact it creates is deep
And this is a memory you'd want to keep
Music, whether it's soft or loud
Each has a mood, sad or proud
Each has a different tune, a different meaning
Each, to someone or the other, is appealing
The world of music is vast
A world where no one feels like an outcast
The genres in music greatly vary
The instruments that create music are legendary
Music with deep meaning is a trend
Though for some it may be hard to comprehend
Music without words is actually the latest trend
There are people who judge you on your music taste and only then agree to be your friend
The rock music that you love may, for others be scary
Next time you break a tooth, request a musical tooth from the tooth fairy...
Why do I still write about the pain of the blade when it hasn't kissed my hips for months
Why do I still write about you when you have not kissed my lips for even longer
 Jul 2014 Amanda Fletcher
em
71 days
since you looked
at me
clenching your phone
as your knuckles fade
into the brightest of whites
& water droplets consume
your bottom lashes
71 days since
you told me
she wasn't going
to make it

68 days
since we sat in my car
silent
tears crawling down your
sweet cheeks
outside of that place
they call hospice
& we call hell

*55 days

since you called me from
school and begged that
i pick you up
so i did
and we drove
we drove aimlessly until
we found a diner to
eat at
a diner that held no
significance
no memory of that
sweet woman you knew
you were about to
lose

51 days
since you told me
"i want her to let go now"
"she needs to be free"

50 days
since you said your
good-byes
you told her you loved her
and all she could
manage
was a tender
squeeze of the hand

48 days
since your father fell
asleep for
three minutes
holding her cold hand
and within that
short
one hundred and eighty seconds
3:30 a.m.
she slipped into her
next life
dressed in white, i'm sure
leaving behind this
family of
now
only
4.

47 days
since my mother
watched a shadowed
figure leave &
disappear from
my little brother's room
at four a.m.
as he slept

it was her, i'm sure*

42 days
since i stood next
to you
looking down at
a body no longer
full of
life
draped in pink
holding your hand

33 days

24 days

16 days

9 days

3 days

&
last night
all i could say
was i'm sorry
as i held your
trembling hands
soothing your rapid
repetitive
breathing &
promising those
swollen eyes that you
will
one day
be held by her again
instead of me
as you
dance with her in the sky
in loving memory of one of God's
newest & most beautiful angels
beth ann bradbury
Poison was the taste so wicked the pleasures shared my dear .
You were the best poison sampled  in a nocturnal desire all is dead .
Let the pain bring the  pleasures of guilt a tattered memory of my most wicked design.

When flesh is your vice will you not drown in the darkest waters as I have so easily drown within you.?

Her  love was a fix.
Her passion reeked of ****** and I fell victim as so many other's before.
**** me in pains plessure to erase my regrets she begged of me from the confines of a  already empty bed.

Nothing to fill the void.
May are darkness be shared my little girl .
Why can't you see the games never revolved around you but merely absorbed you as all the rest.

If only we understood the pains pleasure maybe as strangers we could **** as we do the ones best kept secret within hates plain sight.
I am the edge of the most evil design.
Poison your kiss and forever it lingers to this fool's thirst.

Have are  secrets simply grown into a existence all there own?
Carve are pleasures I see its passion deeply within your eyes
Tonight was a regret tomorrow a forgotten tune left to die as my soul apart.

Do we question are likes or simply take them as fools and allow them to fade?
My demon need's no slumber within my nightmares existence .
Sweetheart did you dig only to find a little fractured side of yourself?

Are lives are toxic I loved the pain you so easily did embrace as of leftover conquests sweat smells of truths we ourselves can no longer embrace .

The door is closed as the belt around your neck.
We together are poisons pleasure how tragic this night with others we did waste.

As misery always seems to embrace only regret.
This as weird as it sounds was part of a conversation .
And You thought I was strange when I was joking .
Gaping valleys,
Asylum-colored.

Spaced enough to
Let daytime prevail
And to let horrors imagine themselves
In the black lung membrane
Of 3 a.m.
For my blinds.
They told me nice guys finish last
It's must be true
Can't find the starting line to find my way to you
You dont seem to mind it's almost sick
I often wonder what makes you tic
Mind games like board games call it sorry
Apologizing but doing it anyway but are we?
Sorry...not sorry
I am adrift,
lost in a myriad of thoughts,
I have that wanderlust,
a case of the traveling,-bone.
I think I need a little bit a vino,
& a hunk of bread.
Perhaps, a walk
in the countryside
will do me some good.

So just for the hell of it,
I think I'll visit France,
that's where I'll go,
leave home for awhile,
get out of Dodge.

Yes, I think I'll visit France,
maybe I'll find
some good
old-fashioned romance, too.
Au revoir!
Next page