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 Feb 2014 Chiny
Sjr1000
Poetry starts
with melancholy
We are all
a
"little" depressed.
A joke.
 Feb 2014 Chiny
Daniel Kenneth
Honest moments are born
In the predawn stillness of the night
Tearful confessions whispered
Into the nook of one's neck
Smoke drifting lazily towards the ceiling
While the candle flickers in the background
Dancing and dancing all of the pain away
 Feb 2014 Chiny
LJ Chaplin
A thousand times I tried to say
I'm walking away from you,
Forget the clichés and the games that you play,
There's only room for one fool.
Pour gasoline,
And strike up the match,
Burn all your bridges
And breathe in the ash,
There will be no phoenix
Between you and I,
Once it's all gone
Our connections will die.
You drop the sword
And I'll hold the shield,
It's all make-believe
Prophecies unfulfilled,
Your love for me was cavalier,
Unreachable like Space,
Maturity was never your forte
And one day you'll be put into place.
 Feb 2014 Chiny
melodie foley
You
are like a book I read long ago
one I couldn't put down
spent nights reading over and over
The only part I would change is the ending
Now
before I buy a book
I always read the last page

it is the only way I can bring myself
To open the cover
 Feb 2014 Chiny
melodie foley
the thing about it
about pain
is that it is most important
romantic even
Without it, it feels as though something is missing
And with it, it at least feels like something
 Feb 2014 Chiny
September
Abuse
 Feb 2014 Chiny
September
They told me I could sell my body,
Instead I decided to sell my mind.
It's $10 a hit,
But I don't yet know
if this is harm or a high.
Body or mind?
 Feb 2014 Chiny
Paul M Chafer
Umbrellas, umbrellas, holding off the rain.
Sheltering all from the sky’s falling tears.
A common bareheaded woman with a basket,
Becomes the object of one man's inquiring gaze.
What protects her from his illicit intentions?
His wealth from exploiting her poverty?
She possesses no umbrella against the rain.
No shield against his shower of false affections.
And oblivious; a little girl with toy hoop looks on.
A questioning sadness in her dark, innocent, eyes.
Unconcerned curiosity, observing the world’s corruption.
And yet, and yet: unaware of her own, future vulnerability.

© Paul Chafer 2014
Written from observing the painting by Renoir, Umbrellas, seen in the national gallery in an impressionist exhibition in 1990, now available to view on-line.
 Feb 2014 Chiny
Anna
We're all in the business of denying our faults and justifying out sins.
Ignorance is bliss and I fear that I am ignorant, somehow missing out on the bliss.
What a pathetic way to be.
I'll never admit we may be wrong for each other, and I want to justify my dishonesty along with severing out the pits of my stomach. Maybe that will keep the nausea away. I'm awfully confused and I fear it won't get any better,
I'm feeling more hopeless and even more bitter
I often feel terrified even to move,
As I sit shaking in a ball praying to improve.

But it seems my life is built on empty prayers
Begging for things to get better, but knowing deep down that I'm doomed
I know I've forgotten how to pray, as if I was ever taught how to properly.
I was accidentally taught how to hate, instead of how to love.
If god wanted to help me, he would've by now.
WHERE ARE YOU IM TRYING TO PRAY?!

I'm not depressed, I'm just a teenager
I'm not sad, this is just human nature
I'm not depressed, I'm just selfish
I'm not suicidal, death is merely a wish
I'm not depressed, I'm just weak
I'm not self-loathing, I just need some critiques

But what do you do when your own family makes you want to die?
And you deny your depression until it eats you alive?
Struggling to get out screaming, "cry, cry, I want you to die!"
I really shouldn't be crying right now, it's so inappropriate
"Stop crying Anna, you're so immature! When are you going to grow up?"
**** I DONT KNOW
I thought maybe if I screamed then you would finally hear me
I thought you might feel the teeth gnawing inside
These bones, these veins
Ripping my heart and destroying my brain
But of course you didn't, I've done this since I was five

I'm a hurricane of paranoia and anger
A storm that needs to be calmed before demolishing everything it comes in contact with
So implant a grenade in my cerebrum
Splatter paint your walls with it
Cut me down the middle and sever out my liver
Sink me down into the river
why do i **** at this
 Feb 2014 Chiny
Anna
I read somewhere the other day that small talk keeps the brain sharp,
So that's probably why I'm stupid  
But I don't understand the fascination in needing a vacation and the weather, or where you bought your brand new ******* sweater.
I'm sorry I can't participate in your name brand conversation, but talking about your Michael khors watch just seems like such a bore.

What I really want to ask you is:
Have you ever screamed your lungs out on the top of a mountain?
Or have you ever tried to drown yourself in the shallow waters of a fountain,
Have you ever watched the sun spit out pieces of gold on a quiet little creek?
Tell me all the things that used to make you feel unique.
When was the last time you felt whole inside?
When was the last time you blatantly lied?
Who do you want to fall asleep next to every night?
Tell me what you think about our nation's lack of human rights.
How many weekends can you go not being sober?
Tell me what you really think about the boy who ******* you over.
Why are you so afraid?
Do you fear you'll explode like a grenade?
I feel like that sometimes.
But I know I'll never get anywhere if I hold it all inside

But your mother told you always be polite,
And never bother anyone with their personal insight
Religion, and politics, don't ask too much
For everyone may get into a fuss
So everyone walks around talking about things that don't matter,
With worlds as shattered as a broken wedding platter
Everyone wants to talk about what's on the outside, but some fear holds back the depths of our soul.
And finally when you're six feet under, you'll realize you've just been digging your own hole
And maybe I'm not sad, I'm just overly enthusiastic about things that no one else is. And all these things everyone gets so excited about make me angry, and then the people even make me angry. They always talk about unimportant things and it makes me feel so distant and far away.
I know I'm not much different from you, we're made out of all the same types of cells making up such different brains with different opinions and priorities. But we have the same feelings. Deep deep down you know what it's like to be lonely. I wish we could talk about life and the universe together but you act like you're a monogram on a fancy *** t-shirt. You're not a name shared with 2 million other people. You are a soul. We're all just people and that's the greatest thing we've come across as a species, and although we're pretty awful, we're also pretty wonderful. We need to get to know EACH OTHER, not these material things that can be lost and stolen and broken. YOU can be lost and broken and stolen too but let's prevent that by saying a little more than "small talk".
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