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 Dec 2022
S Smoothie
Sorry! Pocket dial!
It's been a crazy Christmas season!
Never a dull moment
and never without a drama.
Strength doesn't come by on its own,
it requires training i suppose.

Have a beautiful day today
where you can really smell the crisp air,
look at the garden and the trees
doing their best everyday come what may,

see the wonderous sky and notice
the potential for peace and joy
the way your father appreciated
the very important things in life
that we often miss...

We can learn so much and appreciate so much
when we are given the time to reflect on the past
and dream into our future.

The answer is yes.

It will be more than okay,
It will be better and you will be stronger, wiser and more loving than you dreamed,
The answer is yes
I hear you
Yes, the answer is yes
Sing a song in your heart,
sometimes you pick,
other times life wants its soundtrack.

What ever the case,
sing your troubles away,
sing your joys out loud
A song is a prayer
And a prayer is a conscious action to begin moving to a better place
In connection with the kosmos
Everything is with us all the time,
we cannot separate ourselves from any of it;
not what we see or don't even know about,

We  just move through it in different ways together. Even when we feel alone we are still all moving in it together,


sometimes its as simple as  remembering to reach out with a prayer
and breathe in the answer

Losing a parent is no small thing no matter how you feel about it. Hugs and prayers
 Mar 2022
Silence Screamz
Where do I begin?
Driven into my thoughts like a rusty knife
cutting a razor edge into pantomime's voiceless line

I am speechless.
Silenced by the unknown and quiet to my soul.

It was a dream I couldn't wake up from.

A nightmare !!

Maybe it was the poison, screaming tortures, that flows inside of me, I just don't know anymore.

I stand stoic, like a statue in the park, frozen on the inside and out. I start to feel the moss grow on my bronze feet.

Anchored to the ground.
I couldn't move.

I am a ghost in departure drowning in  secluded feelings I can not explain.
 Oct 2019
Poetic T
A whisper within the tall reeds,
                          as hollow words

echo though those static.

Yet ever word has motion
             on those unmoved.

Yet words can collect upon the cracks.

Weaving untruths between each,
              caressed form.

And still though unmoved.
      I heard the lies that started

as a ripple in a pond.

But made there way through
  the reeds that stood tall.

And I just gazed as the wind told me,
          that no matter the ripples.

A breeze is still made,
      and will pass through,
           the reeds of static


I cried on the edge,
             that I neither had thrown
                                  a stone of lies within

or that I had breathed untruths
that were
                wavering between static reeds.
 Sep 2019
Babu kandula
Lot of me is a lie

I can't live along

If I fail to make up

Those beautiful lies of me

Hard truths may force me to brash me up

But a lie to myself

Boost up confidence

Hell, I can't stop eating

If the judgement day comes the very next day
 Jan 2018
I feel like river water.
And I don’t belong to stagnancy,
yet I’m caught in a lake.


I’m destined
to move silt and sediment.
And overturn
submerged pebbles
so they won’t see
the green of moss.

I’m meant to surge
and eat into banks
so I could be split -
to make more of me...

My reach would extend
far and wide -
like scraggly fingers
grabbing at the
face of the earth.

My energy channelling
through careless forks
and into slimmer branches.


My soul is river water....
And my heart renounces
the throne to idleness.

Yet I am,
but a lake.
 Dec 2017
Poetic T
He had a blackened beard he was
Out of his face,
On his sledge adorned with the
Flayed  skin of those on the
List, those deemed unworthy for
The gifts to bring this night,
Those houses with no
Mince pies,
To line his stomach, from the offerings
Of 40% alcohol that fuelled his laughter,
Vomiting induced from heights, over
Killed from frozen missiles of *****
From above high,
He would sneak upon those
Deemed unworthy,
"In the eyes of children"
He would never harm an
With love, but the naughty list
"Wasn't of children"
It was parents unjust,
"Against those unable to defend themselves"
He was the protector
Of the innocent ones
The elves would hold the parents down
As Serial Santa
Shouted out the charges, so each was heard
Ears bleed as his voice pierced sound,
He would be the
"For their time was coming to an end"
Some begged,
Spat in his face,
He would go in his black bag
And from nowhere,
"A sound proof room for justice"
Was to be served as children
"Where not to be disturbed"
As parents screamed out,
He had finished flayed bodies
Disappeared within his black sack
"The odd finger picked up"
Used as a toothpick to get
Flesh stuck between teeth out,
"But what about the children you say"
"They were fine"
"Never woke, slept in peace"
"I don't ****** parents for fun"
"I get a little satisfaction"
"From them coming to their deserved end"
"Thousands in these hundreds of years"
"Dispatched in to the bag, still not full"
"After so many kills through the years"
"Cloning is the way forward"
"Been pioneers in this for hundreds of years"
New parents for a new day the best present
A serial Santa could give,
H A P P Y   C H R I S T M A S   P A R E N T S
Prey that your nice, for I **** for the
Children, they deserve *better in life,
 Nov 2017
DaSH the Hopeful
Life is a melody
      You can listen to only once.

    The first thirty seconds, you find the groove,
         it's appealing
    A harmonious rhythm hereto unwritten
       This could be your favorite.

             It is.
       For the next three minutes, you settle in.
               The chorus comes around.

          *You'll be here again.

                  It's fresh, it's catchy
You're enraptured by these certain pitches and the words rhyme perfectly.
   One line flowing into the next, the ends justifying the means.
       Another verse, another chorus. This one feels more weathered
          Routine, maybe. You still feel that groove but your perspective of it has been altered by the change in tempo and direction during the last verse.

           You realize you have fifteen seconds left.
         This was your song. What did you do with it?

       *As you think back, a gentle blanket of white noise embraces everything that ever was, and your song fades
Let me know how you feel.
 Nov 2017
Poetic T
She was a landmark of
            many journeys

The only quandary
            at this moment
is others had travelled
her more than self..

She was a
               penny machine
letting others deposit in her.

But she had left this emotion
                     long ago...

She collected her pennies,
         throwing them angrily
into a wishing well of despair..
 Nov 2017
DaSH the Hopeful
I am like a man
That lives inside a very small cube
*And is deathly afraid of corners
 Nov 2017
DaSH the Hopeful
They say home is where the brain committed suicide* first
Hushed conversation overheard
Flushed worth down the drain
And as it spun
The dark corners never seemed so inviting
Enticing how the pain makes you notice yourself when no one else does
Reality is a setback that you've sat through and kept mum about
Contemplating the things that are all in your head more than things that actually are
You've already done it a thousand times
And accepted the indifference growing like vines that intertwine in your mind
Now your thumb is out and you're looking for a ride
Not any particular place, just "away"
Toward somewhere not quite like this

*You use a tied rope as a taxi cab
 Nov 2017
i reach a point of ******
and i never realized how sad it was
i never realized that i was actually
crying this whole time.
hidden beneath covers
friends in rooms miles away from mine
we’re all living our lives and making mistakes
but we haven’t been awake for a while now
i’m afraid.
there’s something about the muted twinkle
that brings me back to the soft lights
and the coffee and the microphone
and that first poem that
proved i belonged in a space of melancholy
because being broken is about more
than being an artist nowadays
i usually want to jump inside the paintings
but this one makes me
want to jump out.
a soft sadness that i keep forgetting is there, my goodness, i don't think it ever leaves
In his absence
She often feels incomplete

Like a hot summer's day
without any heat

Like a puzzle
with a missing piece

Or a lamb
without any fleece

Like a table
without a chair

Or having one shoe
short of a pair

Like a bed
without a pillow
and a blanket

Or a complex maze
without an exit

Like having a driver's license
but no car

Or a night sky
without a shiny star

Like having a fishing line
without tackle and bait

Or a picket fence
without a gate

This feeling
is one
she is always happy
to delete

Having said all that
her poem
is now

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Aug 2017
Meg Goodfellow
Just so you know,
every time we stole kisses at red lights,
I'd pray they'd never turn green.
And every time we went for those midnight drives,
you were the only thing worth seeing.
I have live long enough to know that too much time will **** a person,
it always does.
and I wouldn't rush to say this
But just so you know,
the first time I told you I loved you was whispered into your ear as you slept,
Head on my chest,
you moved slightly,
lightly breathing in and out.
I have never been very good at speaking;
you should know that by now.
So much so,
that by writing the words 'I love you' with my finger on your skin,
I hope that one day you will recognise it and let it in.
I have done it a million time,
on the couch,
in the shower,
even when you drive
But just so you know,
I don't do it because I'm afraid of what you'll say,
I do it because every time I write it,
your heart seems to beat a different way.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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