6years later
My mind calls it illusions
I think it's because we lacked Kodak moments

But how do you create a moment
You never had the time
I wasnt used to spending mine with you

Yet you have created a void
I miss you
I convinced myself that we have had moments

Although everything you had left
Faded
The void has taken over

It has created moments
Non existing ones
I miss you

The Void will never fill
We never had those moments
Memory missing
My love for you will never fade

It is something I appreciate most
Toodlers feeling grass on their **** feet
Ice cream dripping
People of all kinds  
Bilingualism always caught my attention

Caution ...
Its all so precious
Lets take a kodak
For we do not know when we will share something so rare again
Grass as green as the algae on the deepest side of the sea
Sun so harsh as the truth we all hiding
And the closeness of the secrets that hold us together

My second most valued possession
In my hands
There it waited
To capture something so rare
Exactly so I could look back
recall every detail as is
Because it is a Beautiful Life ♥

It is cruel to love the pieces of this world
With all the pieces of you
That fit
Into its existence and yours.....
But flow into mediocrity

Their are times when I wish I could recapture some of the past
and have good memories that would always last and not fade over time
There are times when I can recapture something if only for a moment
A taste a smell, reminding me of a loved one lost, but for a little while at least I feel happy and content and in a way feel somehow transported back in time.
I call it the tastes of childhood, like when I was in Grandma's kitchen I remember the smell of her M&M; cookies, I have never since tasted cookies so fine
I remember my Dad making polish sausages bought fresh from the local sausage house, my mouth just waters just thinking about it even though I just ate.
Then on Sundays we would all gather around the table together as a family and eat together which was quite a feat, considering a family  of nine children, and everyone seemed to scream out I want a leg all at once, which was a problem being chicken fryers back them did not consist of all legs; I still don't know how my parents managed the chaos of all us  children

I also remember my dad smelling of Old Spice and I think it was nice
I wonder if you to will be transported down memory lane, if only for a moment
What are your tastes of childhood? feel free to share

Tiptoeing in the shadows,
hiding behind a crusted keyboard
spewing raw threats in freak speak
dug up from the shallow realm
of which they are formed

Beneath a pink umbrella
where cowards lounge
Shivering like babes in snow banks,
tossing stones, targeting hearts
inflicting pain…expecting a laugh

Stand up, be a man (if you can)
Allow me my aim
Dance about if you like in your tutu,
pirouette in your disgust,
my hand is steady

Unlike yours...moving up and down
staring at a screen, pretending
someone actually gives a crap
about something like you…

I’ll find this circus
where tents are pitched,
cotton candy stains the sawdust
and you climb out of that tiny car
with a fake smile painted on your face

And when you feel it you will know
this ain’t confetti,
as you fall in your own stench, and the audience…
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages…
applaud!

The only freedom we have is the
unconditional love we have to give
and the painful confessions
we offer to the blank page,
there is no judge
but our conscience
and the earnestness of our hearts.

Don't judge my outer shell
Don't judge the marks or scars on my skin
Don't judge the look in my eyes as you spit the words of sin
Don't sear your judgements in my brain
Yeah ok, you think I'm insane
I hope you know that this inner pain does it
The pain you cause and from many others
So don't judge the tears that stream down my face
Sad angels cry the most
An angel as sad as I deserves to let these tears fall
So don't judge my outer shell
Don't judge it at all
Don't say I'm mental and insane
You don't know what has happened to me or what I've been through
So don't judge my outer shell
Till you've looked within me
Maybe then you'd see why I'm like this
Maybe then this will shatter your killing spree

When I was younger I was hoping to go to some private university instead I was enrolled in The School Of Hard Knocks against my will. I think that I started this school when I was a premature baby fighting for my life. Then in school were I experienced such strife
I further experienced this school when I married young and while I was trying to further my education my husband violently knocked me against the wall, with the help of neighbors I escaped and got to a safe place. I had to leave town and drop out of school.
The school of hard knocks can be so cruel. I wonder who makes the rules for this school
I've heard it said that experience is the best teacher you get the test first and the lessons afterwards in life there are many lessons to be learned, when I was a new parent I learned many and not every answer is found in books, you learn at times through trial and error
You love your children even when at times they don't treat you right
I am still learning from the school of hard knocks, it seems when I try to get ahead a little bit I get knocked down I feel like I might frown
I think I will get back up I have before, but I have some advice if The School Of Hard Knocks comes knocking at your door don't answer.

IMPATIENT

The tension,
it is building up,
it's like a coiled spring.

The eternal optimist's fast becoming pessimist,
she's waiting in the devil's wings,

She's dressed in strawberry jelly,
her eyes blood red,
not tears,
just lack of sleep,
as so she quivers,
she's waiting for the end result,
sleep,
sleep is so evasive,
when thoughts twist up your mind.
and so she sits and shivers.
Tossing and turning and drifting,
thought I should say,
maybe the time is nigh,
now hopefully all change.

Those who speak philosophy,
speak words,
they speak words of darkness falling heavier,
just before the dawn.
She sits and she waits,
impatiently,
for the rise of breaking dawn,
A strangulating game,
of you've just got to wait and see!
(C) Livvi

My poems are not brilliant
They have no meter nor rhyme
My poems are not published
They are hardly worth a dime

My poems are read little
They are enjoyed even less
My poems are not witty
Slightly amusing at best

My poems are fun to write
They bring me simple pleasure
My poems are nothing, true
Yet writing is sure treasured