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 May 2017 Ife
Joel Hayward
Everything is out of place

a curiously dead wife on anyone's bed in a city long forgotten

her soul departing from an old people's home

lip hanging lower than it used to

new running shoes in the corner

disposable nappies next to a bra on an unused food tray

eyeliner on eyes that hadn't opened for days

cold skin in a room into which the sun streamed

morphine flowing through a tube into a life that had left

devotion from such an imperfect husband

who knew she'd hate her hair like that and stroked her fringe back into place
 May 2017 Ife
wordvango
try to cheat the crying again
wake up every day after day
with a stained pillow
I've been sentenced
to life  in this prison
of sunrises on the porch alone
sunsets with ten bottles
serenading me
the paper on the refrigerator
yellowed stained
that says
where she was leaving me forever
still that ring
glistens in the window
and one dead stem
still in the vase
on the mantle
remains beside that wilted
brown brittle rose
the door has never been closed
ten years now
and the sun I don't see
ever shine
don't
need to water the garden
my tears flood them
as the wildest weeds grow
tangled around
my dreams
in them
 May 2017 Ife
Pagan Paul
.
So here I am once more, in the playground of the broken hearts.
One more experience, one more entry in a diary self-penned.
Yet another emotional suicide,
overdosed on sentiment and pride.
To late to say I love you, to late to re-stage the play.
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday'.



The first words you killed me with.
The first Script to make me cry.
The opening song on a plate of sorrow.
The opening sight of my Poets eye.

Your words soaked my childlike mind
as I lost on the roundabouts and swings.
The Jester stands with violin and quill,
composing tears on his broken strings.

I sat and chewed those daffodils
and I still struggle to answer why.
I grew up and left that playground
but its the place where my heart died.

So I never did write that love song,
My words just never seemed to flow.
The martyrs twisted smile haunts me,
my Harlequins head dreams in sorrow.

The game is over.
The game is over.

© Pagan Paul (22/05/17)
.
*First verse from the title track of 'Script for a Jesters Tear' by Marillion.
First heard this song when I was 14, I always wondered why Fish's lyrics spoke so deep with me. I only understood when I started to write poetry.
The album is their first, and the first of a trilogy that also includes Fugazi and Misplaced Childhood.
I am the Harlequin. PPx
.
 May 2017 Ife
Richard Grahn
A teardrop rains down
From the crest of the Heavens
The sky is alive
 May 2017 Ife
Lydia
Scattered
 May 2017 Ife
Lydia
And if you dissolved
If you somehow danced off into the atmosphere
If all you are now is stardust and broken promises
Please remember that I was one of them
No matter how scattered, I was part of you
 May 2017 Ife
allie
the longest runs
are the things that **** us
we can train
we can raise our knowledge
but we can never prepare for the hurt
the anger
the tears
the scars.
when i say what's happening
people pity me
they try to 'help'
they look at me with sad eyes
and tell me to just solve it.
i can't, now can i.
it hurts.
i love.
i hate.
when you think you get out of it
it ropes you back in
if i cry
you don't care
if i yell
you don't care
if i leave
you hit me with words
you slap me with insults
tell me
i'm stupid
i'm an idiot
i'm worthless.
you pull me back in
into the fishing line
and i'm caught
caught on the hook
you trick me
say that you'll always love me
no matter what.
then you go along
and shed your hateful words like a snake
still,
i'm caught in the fishing line.
i'm stuck in the hook.
and there's no getting out.
i'll never escape.
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