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 Feb 2022
M Vogel

Hey kid..

Vulnerability is your access in to what is real,
though  as you know..
not always is it safe to do or be,  in this world..
in fact, there are those who will,  or have..
shown you over and over again,  
that vulnerability of heart with them
will get your sweet little *** slapped down into the dirt..
over and over again..
(as if you did not already know, firsthand).

There are many reasons those people behave that way,
and every single one of them  deal with hurt..  
and hope (when they still had it),  being unfairly
and unkindly stifled back inside of them.  
In hating  and then stomping all over your vulnerability,
they are in truth, hating their own..  
and rightfully so, for what they had to endure..

but until they want to see and change,
they will be the death of you..  
   or at least the death of your awakening heart.


But there are those who thrive on vulnerability
because they have learned to believe  once again..
in the word, Hope..  and when vulnerability  of another
comes towards them,  they cannot help but celebrate it
from the place inside of them  that is overwhelmingly grateful
     that it still exists.

.. When you open up that way, I want to kiss you deeply.

In truth, all vulnerability and authenticity at that level
should always be met with the deepest of kisses.
You have the right idea..  but sometimes with the wrong people.
You've been nearly trampled to death in the process--
starting at such a tremendously tender, young age.

It makes a person edgy..
(and if  extremely brilliant,  in that gorgeous brain of yours..)..  
ya, kid.. sarcastic AF.

That's where you get hurt.
That is where you hurt yourself.
At times when the emotional **** hits the fan,
and everything starts feeling like its all going wrong..
that gorgeous brain separates itself  from that beautiful heart..
making it feel as if it has gone dark..
and then that brain..  thinking that it has been left to its own
survival resources,   turns 'mean' ..
in its own perceived abandonment by the heart.

At those moments, you feel  the horrendously-black
and empty, loss of self..

That is when it all starts compounding, quantitatively
No one understands, and so when you  actually
are needing it the most,
Grace  through understanding, in an instant  gives way
to judgment and ridicule by others..  causing you by necessity,
to retreat further back into yourself..
relying on more and more  of the one time, necessary (when little)
but now so relationally-damaging,  survival skills.

Beautiful girl with beautiful heart  and amazing mind,  
becomes fragmented..   compounded by her own  
now nearly out of control,  age-old tactics and behaviors...

And those that do not understand,  stand back and paint
(and allow to have painted) a view of you..  that in truth,
truly is not you..

but is only self-protection/survival-mode,
but on steroids--

Beautiful heart,  implodes..  
within the loss of its much-needed,  beautiful self.
Brilliant mind goes into hyper-drive,
now left alone to its own, survival-resources--
Hacking it out in the ******-up wilderness,  without  
its much trusted and needed,  Compadre..
     that Beautiful, beautiful heart.

You are not that person, Babe.
You are the owner and possessor of two extremely-gifted organs--
both placed into you  to be in full relationship with each other.
That is who you are.

When they are fragmented  and torn from one-another,
that is not truly the true, you.  But since they are both yours,
you are in the strongest essence, accountable.
Somewhere within all of that,  
guilt and self-condemnation kick in..
and literally beat the living **** out of you.
That brain of yours, Babe..  it is beautifully-brilliant
and also quite the *******.  
You are not "mean".
You are not "unkind"   or "unloving"
(though, in essence-- at those times, you are)

No..


..You are temporarily detached..   fragmented--
separated from what it is that you so desperately
need the most---
    y  o  u.
.. But your own guilt and self-judgment
slap the **** out of yourself
almost as hard (sometimes harder)
than the one who is now pointing their finger at you..

                                                       in all of their hurt.

All you need, is Understanding.
Love cares enough to want to give you that.
Love cares enough to want to take care of its own story

so it can better see and understand
how to help you with yours.


     That is what you need. That is what you deserve.
     That is the kind of love you are worthy of.


You are everything beautiful that I have been saying that you are.
Within your at times,  own Great Divide..
the blackness between the two parts of you  that you need most,
completely blocks out  your own, much-needed view of you.

I see the picture, my Beautiful..
I have a right to speak to you this way.
You took my breath away, right from the get-go.

       The only way I could get even
       was by looking directly at you.

It is your talking and opening up that did it.
What you so often and so rightfully need to run from,
is the very thing that is actually,  most saving you.
To be "seen" is to be understood..
if the one doing the looking
    is doing it for all the right reasons.

       No one has ever understood.
       That is where you get hurt.

And  in the aloneness within it all,
is where you hurt yourself the most.



       Mm.
       This party is far from over, Babe..
       Far from it, beautiful girl.
       ..And so it is with Magic.


       You are beautiful, beyond words.

       ❤️️

..yet within it all.. you must get fatigued--
almost beyond all recognition. :(

I L- Y
https://youtu.be/PgGUKWiw7Wk

xoxo
 Feb 2022
Caroline Shank
Sacrament


Speak to me or don't.  I have heard
your words before.  In silence or in
laughter, suburban sunny spaces
or the city's hidden doorways

with a rush of air
on ******* uncovered
in the rush,
graced only by the statues
purple shadows.

The cautious heaving
from below tells you to be
ready.

Reach for my deepest shadow's
source, mine in me
the whispers of my throat's
taught moan.

Find the sun in my
embrace and in the
strength of my desire
only will we

have  drunk

the sacrament ,

.

Caroline Shank
2.22.22
No
 Feb 2022
Scorch'd Diana
Chaos,
grandness around us, within us
our pasts and our fates,
the heads and the tails you bring us,
nothingness,
mistress, our all that is free and forbidden
forgiven, forsaken, forseen and forsworn;

Our endlessness,
countless infinities that you defy
our unbreaking circle of charities your grace is defined by;
our mother, our barrens of space who is bearing existence;

our eminence,
baroness, dancing the torments of pregnance
our sorceress, chanting the songs of emergence;

our senses and souls,
your spawn, your kin, your death and your sins
our servant, your serfs
kneeled down and bowed over
your lust that is shameless, yearned for and proud,
raised up and all that is tall afly
your will that is mindful, yearning, forgiving;

our Godesses, our locks and our keys,
around us, within us, the now and the here,

listening through the ears of machine elves
our absolution from words uncertain;

speaking through colours of clockwork glyphs
our faith to bring magic into our lives;

teaching through picture puzzle pattern cellar doorways
our choice to approach whenever we wish.

You are awareness. We are mindful.
You are presence. We are eternal.
 Dec 2021
Sk Abdul Aziz
Be so focused on your goals that you don't even have the time to compare yourself with others.
 Dec 2021
Rachel Armstrong
O old Gods who wait in morrow, let me shine in sacred sorrow
I proffer, and offer, my marrow, bone, flesh, to thine altar borne,
lone in meeting, only fleeting, silent here for duty sworn
My old Gods who sit in waiting, might I power just to borrow?
Only briefly you must loan me the magic to sunder torn.
Weak and trembl’ng, weak to muster, I sought courage, but I crumble,
at the sight of just thy vision, for to me it seems e’er unseen
naught to know but thy own master ‘til I patient, sorely lumber
wondering if fear has stolen me to thine own sacred meadow
when suddenly, fervently see thine true shape and face and form and
terrible dreams enter my soul e’er to stay and e’er to fecund
for death I prefer to understanding the truth our Gods have shunned.

Yet little more did I then speak among the dead and too the meek,
falling towards an abyss so deep that makes my heart and soul weep
dying truly like a phantom lurking in the shallows creep
and yet falling ever faster and so overwhelmed by deep
my eyes and ears saw nothing and heard nothing, not a leap
from the darkness that consumed me e’er more did I fail to seek
that which cannot only reap the dead and tear them ‘til they so reek
so sharp and pointed so it was even I could witness and speak
“Who have I wronged in this place so awful that I am gaoled oblique?
Yet can still think and ponder the widow’s peak and in vain self-wreak?”
in sacred toil among the stardust that makes us shine so mystique.

What does thou will, O lord, my lord, of more than we can ever tell?
I know it is not my duty not to know. Ask I must, ask besides
the husk of my body is yours and yet I know little of thee
by whose authority do wield such magics and more asides?
it is not plain to me what sort of horror lies ‘neath the scorched ground
so why do I? Why do I scream? Why do I see the beast in me?
The hound that hunts for those who must be slaughtered despite what else they seek
the wolf inside that hunts, rips, and tears, taken apart piece by piece
the awful sound of howling that’s for me to not and never cease
the stars themselves align to my fate fear in mind and e’er besides
‘tis here that I myself sit alone and finally soon to die.
for death I prefer to the fate our Gods have brought to us benumbed.
practicing structured poetry. not very good at really understanding syllable stressors yet without a guideline. meter makes sense though. this is lovecraft inspired for a section of a novella i am writing.

this website doesn't let the lines work properly since they get moved down sometimes which is annoying, not wide enough for 1080p

gave a bunch of poems including my own here sunshine to support the website that lets me indulge myself on a pen name whence no one can find me.
 Dec 2021
sadik sheikh
parched baren fields hug
scorched dusty village of penury landscape
straddled between supposed national road
ramshackle mud hut stands detached
equally dilapidated huts fragment

crude rusty door squeakily opened
old grandma come forth
stooped the posture
wobbled the walk
rain deprived tree the refuge against sweltering heat

wind haul loose plastic bags around with wild abandon
empty bowl enticingly rolled
past hungry animated crawling toddler
ushering object illusionary windfall apparently

sunken vague eyes locked,
in tandem with fragile limbs
hot on the heels of Dancing bowl

hand too feeble to swath pestering flies outstretched
prospect of a meal within reach
skiny invigorated arm overreaches

course of trajectory swayed
container swerved off course
inverts then flipped
tiny hands trips progress!
  "you have won the hunger race"
   "welcome to the starting point"
    congratulatory cheers!
    the world applauded!

fingers investigatively scratched alluring fruity decor surface
pleasing patterns presented in empty bowl
by deceptive sight seeking vindication
from the high court of flabby tongue
hosting unwavering snitch of a taste bud negating beguilement of sadistic bowl
flower not a food was the verdict

fling of frustration ensued as
speechless toddler hurl empty vowels
thrashing rage pulverised the bowl
against the hard earth by emaciated arm
soliciting the attention of a heedless grandma
unflinched by familiar outburst unworthy of consoling response

light at the end of tunnel
when familiar figure heave in sight
dust sprayed face of a sisterly love expressed foreign smile

baby hastily locomotes towards receptive
soothing lullaby
cuddlle with sibling's affection
rhyming lung of a learner sister reads
the lyrics of the day
  
" pad meet rag equals
  foreign meet local
  like souvenirs for a vote
  when representative of women
  presents sanitary pads today

bloodless girls plenty in the land
where babies refuse to sleep and
watch the world orbit around

where empty bowl prank a child    
who blames the bowl
that blame the ***
that blame grainless granaries
the opulence of the governor's office
where fragrance swirls ends
the lullaby of blame game
and the the prank of the dancing bowl"

    by sadik sheikh
 Dec 2021
aar505n
I saw you
As you stared at me
Two deers caught in each other headlights
As brief as a flash, blinked, and you’d miss it

I am only reminded of my heaviness when you are there
Standing – Floating – Watching
As ghostly as any ghost, then
Gone – Vanished – Nothing
I am alone, again, cursed to remain here

I tried to follow in your footsteps
Untangling, unknotting, unravelling
Myself from a generation of debt and duty
These twisted roots of familiar obligations
How did you escape such a similar situation?

I wasn’t born light, like you.
I was born heavy, brother.
I will have to earn my lightness.

Sometimes on rainy days
when the weighty pain becomes unmanageable
I find myself slipping into the tangible delusion
Of ascribing meaning to everything

That maybe you think of me as much as I think of you
That you see my pain and want to help
But it’s just too much for you right now
When you’re ready, you’ll come back to me
You’ll come back.

Sometimes the little lies we tell ourselves
Can be enough to get us through this life

But not tonight.
'He ain't heavy, he's my brother'?
More like he *is* heavy and he ain't my brother
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