If rock concerts came first
Would churches have been needed?

                                       By Phil Roberts

the ocean between you and me* can sometimes feel like a
gleaming apollo. it just doesn't seem real though, the
jellyfish are murderers. here, look through my
kaleidoscope. it feels like  
a lesser coming home, if you know what i mean. but
when will you come home? hopefully by the next time i see
a snow flake in her hand. because i promise that
i will break you. and i'll take you. to the
caverns, where in the dark a
dance pianist plays. and on this trip i'll be
leaving the last behind. sit tight, youre not
leaving my waiting room, like in a
silent picture, where in it,
days all seem the same.

Our fingers,
touch it the most.
We show it off,
ready to boast.
Depression, a mess,
when lost from our tips.
Rain or harm,
it must not slip.
Hold it close,
a protective grip.

It makes us smile,
forget the sorrows.
Temporarily glides,
us to tomorrow.

Helps with decisions,
remembers us.
Knows what we like,
what sets us apart.

We share with it,
experiences.
Everywhere,
the feel of it.


Your loved one,
or your phone.
The decision,
is yours to own.

What is it?
<3 or [ ]

I am the embodiment of your life
the shoulders of your deep sadness
the wrapped arms of your burden
the warmth of your coldness
the breath of your sighs

the atmosphere
when you are near
to be living again
then

I'll sing my song for you
just for you with that refrain
in the midst of the night
will you not be so sad again

the rivers are overflowing
it's still monsoon-time, baby
where will we go with all these liquid
no scrupules, I'll fix it

I'll read you a poetry sublime
about the poet who writes about food
who never be hungry again
never have a grind
man unkind
to break or crush the notes

please do never forget
I am the bottom of your bed
the handle of your doors
the candle of your fires
I am the embodiment
of your desires....



© SYLVIA FRANCES CHAN
Copyright Protected

Wanting feelings of warmth, but only ice instead
Done with the sorrow, I just want to be dead
Serious voices of suicide are singing through my head


Should I swing from a tree, in childhood they constantly saved me
Snuggly wrapped up in their limbs, a million books I'd read
Years were spent up above reality, the safest spot to be

Should I slice my wrist my throat, with my favorite knife
Many times I've felt it's bite, the lines on my body it's made rife
The smell of iron will be strong as red becomes black, an end of life

Should I drown, heavy blocks tied with the strongest rope
Water filled lungs, fish nibbling on my corpse when it bloats
Flower in an underwater garden, not sprawled in a dead man's float

Should I take a gun, get a good taste of cold hard steel
Shattering my cranium, my brains it will no longer conceal
Ending it all in the deep dark woods, has a strange appeal

Should I take some pills, lie upon the side of a mossy hill
Watching the birds in flight, till I feel deaths darkened chill
Suicide seems the only way out, stuck in my head, mentally ill


To my knees I drop
This rain never stops
Watching lightning from my rooftop

Wish I wasn't this way
Wish I had bright days
Wish in the sun I could play

Guess I'll see what comes my way
Guess I'll see how my life will sway
Guess I'll give this life one more day


But just in case I decide to jump instead of slide
Please believe me, I really tried

©Pauline Russell

do you have a partner? a  special other?



maybe you have spaces.                   I do.

now.

i have made it all myself, little garden.



there is some help once a month with

an hourly rate.



then there is the robin.



sbm.