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Jan 2016 · 617
Emily Pidduck Jan 2016
I knew it would hurt to see you again.
Did I stop loving you?
but I mistook my heart for that of a wanderer's
my eyes would get lost in the distance
I never saw yours begging that I'd stay
that soft chant
reste   reste   reste
I hear the calling now
et mon coeur, I am sorry
Je suis très désolée mon bébé
because I lost you though you never strayed
or because your heart was put to rest
while I became wordly
and lonley
et j'ai decouvert
you were the only one who'd ever matter
e vorrei ritornare ma
les mots don't get through

I think it hurts most to keep a pull in your heart
your mind letting you know that quelquechose
was forgotten that held unparalled significance
in all those should have beens

Je ne t'ai jamais oublié
mais tu as fait
et c'est bon pour tu

but now I have to float away
parce que je ne peux pas observer
tu et elle
                                                            ­        è mi e ti
                                                                ­  o ti e nessuno

on that first date
I'll shatter glass if I see you kiss

but darling, know I'll always return
I'll keep waiting until your alone
wait to see you eyes shine with our memories
caro mio, I'll be standing in front of you très vite

                le dico      per piacere

Reste     Reste    Reste

I wouldn't take a single step away again, my love.

Should you present her with a ring
I wouldn't ever greet home again
and if I'm able to keep strong
I'd meet people in my travels.
I'd try, only for you, resist the graveyard

but even now, your voice sometimes crackles
my heart hears, rest   rest   rest
I'd give anything you wish

                     Don't let my unstable mind bind your decision
                       It's a part of my soul that was never your fault
                         It wavers and crashes and gently glides
                            Don't let my turmoil ruin your sand

        **Ti voglio bene
rough draft, A girl who followed her heart on the wrong path.
Sep 2015 · 854
Emily Pidduck Sep 2015
No, my Darling
I shan't ever hate you
for being led astray

Yes, pure beauty
I forgive what you do
when I have gone away

No, my honey
I still find you lovely
at your Siren's ending note

Yes, sweet baby
I know parts of you heavenly
this isn't what you wish I wrote

            former lover

I did never love you
Tis why the pain's so soft
It was never much a cost
Sep 2015 · 458
Emily Pidduck Sep 2015
because I ache for you to stay with me.
The fear of commitment
Aug 2015 · 386
The Scale
Emily Pidduck Aug 2015
This pounding is much too harsh. Always aching with the drum of my truth as it slaps me in the face. My fat jiggles in a horrendous fashion, I don't move with grace, but thunder. I blunder, wishing to keep up with your pace. I want the stride of your beautiful. I want to stay youthful, but my metabolism is slacking and I hear the snickers, so I'll keep my eyes glued down. At least I keep score; I see days I don't eat, versus days of defeat, I'm a fat-*** puppy always sniffing for treats. And I get sick of the stale lines telling me I'm beautiful. Because only awfully gorgeous people are the ones to speak, and they tell me to gain more? It's not a chore, I'm not resisting when I secretly want to snack. NO, I just forget for a moment and shove some in like a zombie extra-diseased as fat.
I agree, I'm pathetically weak, but people don't understand that it hurts more to know that my power of will is low than to see this mass of mountainous freak.
Some insight on what annerexia can murmur in someone's thoughts. No I don't think these thoughts are a good outlook, but too many people who want to help attempt to convince them they aren't fat, instead of saying they are beautiful because everyone has beauty that outshines any possible ugly.
Mar 2015 · 644
Emily Pidduck Mar 2015
on that hill she wept
forgetting the dove
the promise, the Lord
remembers love

the bird remains white
washing the sky
with wing tips black
souls to molded glass

a bruised, wicked people
no longer crass
transparency calls remorse
the vicious change course

love in abundance
dark sins pardoned
humanity's chance
we must not harden

I urge her tears of delight
grass will manage growth
in His assurance: that
tenderness will flourish
Mar 2015 · 859
What I Say to Mortal
Emily Pidduck Mar 2015
I would say I'm only mortal
bitter winds bite
flower petals fall
I'm left with half of a silky rose
and I never know if I loved her or not

I'll only ever be mortal
my pain is not my gain
I crave
all the time
but not for time
not for forever
because the wind was once bitter
filling my soul with the litter
of human remains
the ones who stayed

I wish I wasn't mortal
fate and destiny mean nothing
I'd be born for something great
because my wounds would be soft memories
memories I needn't speak
I save that for the weak
and my weak days
if I wasn't mortal

It's tearful, this amount of joy
I am Mortal.
Time counts
choices matter
and my value rises
Rough, fix it later
Jan 2015 · 1.8k
Behind a Locket
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
An empty locket is not hard to find
take a look at the neck
and you can find a chain
take a glimpse of their eyes
don't get lost in the void*

I know Lisa didn't believe in a lost cause
she had stout faith ingrained within her
that she could charge strong against a throng of men
who fated her to be wrapped tight in white gauze
who left the soldiers that couldn't be found in the fog
those riddled with led, disease and debris
to fill the bellies of those starving dogs

and now that my baby's in the hospital
locked in a state of alive but not living
I caress the locket she always wore
and I laugh where the tears come out
because it's a picture of my face
I laugh because if my little girl woke up
she would not stay in her place
she does not believe in fate
all she'd know is that her daddy hasn't
been helping people recently
would tell me I'm a disgrace

And I too wear a locket, the heart is pink
I've never wanted to ink it black, it's a gift
I received from my brave baby girl who used
her tooth fairy money when she was thirteen

I recall her saying I could put Sarah's photo there
but I said no, little Queen
there are pictures all over the house I can see,
right now all I need is you and me

that was that last time I felt strong
over and over, she opened my eyes
I kept learning I was wrong
I wasn't supposed to wait for cries
she said holding someone up is not enough
once they've broken on the inside

I have heard many more lectures from my princess
but I need her to wake up and make me remember
because I have been forgetting all my good parts
that came from her teachings of surrendering
your body and your heart in hopes you'll give
the multitudes a better start

so, Lisa
whenever you're ready
open your eyes

I'm all set to stop withering
I'll stop sitting here as I've done for three years
and you can return exactly as you were
in all of your glittering
definitely, fix this up later :). Of course use whichever people are more effective for you, for me this is a silent commentary from a single father about his only daughter who is lying in a coma. The girl was a soldier.
Jan 2015 · 896
My love is my own.
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
My love is my own
and torn
it rarely grows.

But I promise to show
as much
as I could ever give

It's not much to live by
much less than her expansive sky
more like a stone.

and I hope you understand
Your love is also your own

and I know
that you have an ocean's depth
of love to spread

but you started as a river

I began
just a grain of sand
buried with
the slightest shiver

and each love
has no clone

but if you'll agree
I will bathe you in my own
or you can wait
as I cultivate my love
for that strength is mine alone
Jan 2015 · 3.2k
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
the feeble wings are crumbling
are you forgetting
that tonight you need not fear change
breaking wide open, but it's beautiful

I wish here for your fertility
let light blast
darling shine
surrender show your darkest crime
to see you blown fiercely apart is not terrifying
it's a beautiful form
now all pieces are visible
same from further harm

I will guard the best ones
collect them when you're ready
later, you will grow strong
Jan 2015 · 505
to forget your worth
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
there is a boy who sits in the rain. Right smack on the ground, in the asphalt and dirt, but mud will not ***** further a stain of his token. and this boy is not forgiven, he is desperately lost in the state of broken-barely living which he feels suits him best. for this boy is willing to open wide, take the perverted inside for a price outweighing coins. At the moment they join, in whispered breath, he collects a secret as cold as death. They range from immoral to revolting; each twisted and shameless, yet not enough to dissuade the boy from his task. because this boy is searching for a murderer, solely to ask:

does the guilt make it your fault?

               they promised it was not mine at all

And each secret held in his chest has two culprits or more. More than one have committed the same folly. They are disturbed and cracked but not caught, living freely. The filth has a chance to wash clean; they are able to repair themselves. But the murderers? No second chances. Thus they do not come to the boy; they are found by the law. Visible in society and chained in view of the innocent, this boy’s ears echoes with their sins. All the killers of people, spouses, strangers, parents, children, friends, vibrancy. All because of anger, revenge, fetishes, sicknesses...deemed despicable they were left to rot. and that eight year old boy could never understand why they granted him innocence when he was caught. and this twenty-three year old boy will sit in the rain, drenched in sweat as he visualizes the fire and feels the burns that rain cannot extinguish, whilst staring at an empty land plot. and this boy trembles, caressing an old, withered cigarette pack that is one short. Since years ago, this boy has not recognized his worth.
change it later
Jan 2015 · 510
Lady Luck
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
is quite different from which I imagined her to be.
A little unorthodox, her grey lines pile up and the path chosen for me
even holds a touch of colour. The red seeping from the pebbles
becomes a rather dangerous flood. I had never believed she might use blood when the dice I had rolled landed on a double six. To most, it would seem her sense of luck is sick. Now, poor Lady Luck has been addressed most rudely with the vilest names by those who claim her to have switched with a wicked cousin. The have linked her name with Curse, Misfortune, even Hopelessness at times, oft because their eyes have dulled and they insist on the sun to shine. Ignored on the days of mist, I wouldn't blame her should she leave. For most of the used disclaim her aid if the Lady comes not with ease.
rough, I'll likely change it later :)
Jan 2015 · 3.4k
A pretty thing
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
A twisted form of angel,
he's a demon in the light.
Brilliant array of feathers
'fore the eagle prepares his
strike. Tsunami risen to ruin
from a gentle hazel tide. I
came to love his pretty things
since pretty never lies. But
beauty couldn't hide the
burning sun, he wrought me
dry. Oasis wasn't deep enough
to stifle up my cries. I wrestled
brave with golden chains that
locked me to his side. Securely
bound on his wicked ride, I'm
afraid of pretty things. Yet, I
decline to run when my heart,
it sings: What a pretty thing. What
a pretty gooorgeous thing - to see
a demon while there's light. Ready
to burn though he owns the night.
His vices I thought a pretty thing,
I'd faith, drowned in his soulless
eyes, that his pretty must not lie.
Oct 2014 · 389
Rain Down on Me
Emily Pidduck Oct 2014
Hurry up and disregard me
disentangle from me
leave me ravaged and wrangled and slow
heavy and weak from every inch of you that had blended well
into the crooks.

It took you just a single look to capture me
enrapture my eyes
How I swirled in the delicacy of your lies
It was wickedly wonderful, thrilling
I was willing to be tortured, abused, mortified
It was the perfect sort of killing
drowning and I loved the water
blazing and I loved the sun
bleeding but I loved the blood, that mud from us
that drug

Without you here I've begun to thrive
Incredibly alive!!!
Yet, I start to rain when the thunder booms
I commence the pain in this empty room
I feel the silence, that deathly cold
as my spirit molds into beautiful gold.

This freedom air is growing sparse
My soul freshly bared
left open, frozen

Don't stay there, I need you here.
Pull me down to your broken layer
When the destruction was so perfect, and you wish for moments when they might reappear.
Oct 2014 · 2.8k
Emily Pidduck Oct 2014
Quite something
You feel nothing
But you're walking a road you can't see

Haven't broken
Since she chose him
But you're not holding on, just numb

Ten was too young for loss
and Twelve was no age for using
the cost was at Fifteen, you were sinking
thinking of suicide.

Eighteen was wrong for selling
to your brother, he was Six years younger
at Thirteen he lay broken
legs wide open, plunged inside
for drugs he loved
to the ages of
young, prime and ripe
Your frozen heart wondered why.

Papa blames you and Mama hates you
But you don't cry
only handcuffs weigh you down

Plaguing your mind:

"If I serve time, might I understand why
the numb grew strong and the love died?"
rough, but hey, it's late...
Sep 2014 · 12.0k
A Sound of Suffering
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
whish whish* is the sound of a suffering
the sound of blood as it squirts
the most exquisite and horrendous fountain
loaded with a despairing call
a siren's ring
because it stings the depths of  the heart
to the very end, from the dreadful start
whish whish is the sound of suffering
the sound of wheels turning
because there was an exit before, there always is
most often it's more than I'm willing to give
whish whish is the sound of suffering
it is the sound of those crying
there is pleading, wailing, sighing
'fore the fates bring forth dying
and there is death in life, thoughts, wisdom, courage
it comes with age, but time's the liveliest gift received
we are deceived if we think we turn each page
whish whish is the sound of a suffering
it's the sound of what's missed
if we had asked before
we mightn't be adorned with the weight
the burden, the baggage, the fate
the mystery is missing
there's hissing in the past
those last faulty choices have played with our cast
maybe I'll make it better later
Sep 2014 · 508
Half Love
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
Showered in her sweet longing
I can tell I would have belonged here
There's only beauty in her calling
I've seen my beauty wracked in fears

So when her fingers brush me softly
she does not wash away sadness
she hopes to light me up
see my heart beat
so that how I treat her
her love.

Yet, perfection isn't enough
I have handed all I own
I am hers to mold

I am pretty.
I am sweet.
I put her first.
I kiss her feet
I give her gifts.
I make her chief.
I am not enough.
I feel no love.

because I have already loved
but love does not exceed death

So her love
this attempt of mine
can only be a mess.
How does one transfer love to the living, when the loved one died?
Sep 2014 · 457
The Road
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
Succumb. Collapse.
Let yourself fall into every trap.
Then love. Cry. Learn.
And Grow.
By the time you know.
You're basking in the glow,
you've lived.
There's nothing better for you to give.
Life isn't just your own wonderful gift, you've blessed others. Part written by Lizzy
Sep 2014 · 435
On Whistle Hill
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
In the deadest night on Whistle Hill
a ghostly fog did give me chills
for through the misty, twisting white
I saw swing fro some wild eyes.

Thence broke through a face near cold
yet in his depths was gleaming bold
the darkest shine, did'st tell me nein
stay back, the sloe claims wild eyes.

How I knew, the choice was his
for eyes as those are short to live
but what he wished, I did decide
I thought afraid, his wild eyes

Why shun't he change his look on time
for dark's not dark but in the night
I reached through mist, and soothed his cry
his life had left him child eyes

For child eyes have yet to see
they think they're wild, search for free
they look for lifeless peace of mind
evolving into wild eyes

So now a man on Whistle Hill
searches long, through wind and chill
for'is eyes of old, the quitting kind
lest he might save, those wild eyes.
Sep 2014 · 965
Fey Garden
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
In the fey garden
there were rosebuds dripping a sweet nectar
that pooled on the ground crimson
wafting a heavenly scent
and the smell made ears ring
and sing with the cries
of the butterflies caught
left to rot, in the pretty fey garden.

In the fey garden
there were sweet fruits swelling with poison
and a fluttering song
caressing the fallen
though the tune was sharp
to the dead they were calling
the screeching rang strong, in fey garden.

In the fey garden
was a mystery told
the mundane, young and old
came longing for gold
they were sold by the fables
but the tables were turned
with the tune
sung of blood,
that flooded fey garden.
the dark side to Fey
Sep 2014 · 3.8k
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
When her pencil flows
there is a light in her eyes where I have only seen sadness
Through her high and lows
she creates masterpiece after masterpiece from the badness
And in my darkness she glows
but her breathing comes to breathless
she believed the beast was there
until that glow
broke down to helpless
Sep 2014 · 636
Catching Love
Emily Pidduck Sep 2014
This is the way we were -

on meeting
I decided
I would build up some arm muscle
so that I would be able to squish your head inside of a coconut
or simply bash you with a coconut
or at least witness a coconut fall
and see you trip over that coconut
as if it were a banana peel

our fated meeting
that feeling
was horrific

I met you again
a coconut attack is rather harsh
all you needed was a wee personality fix
a douse of hail
similar to a drenching in cold water
but harder
your skull was thick
you were headstrong
and I hadn't gotten around to weakening it
with those coconuts

and that destined meeting
was little better
than our first greeting

and encore
I witnessed a sweet you
the one that gave candy to a child
and passed by those kittens in a box

and it was fleeting
your kindness,
I considered you cheating

and then you showed up
who knows why
when you thought I was upset
I swear you only wanted to comfort me
for no good reason
because a movie isn't worth it
yet my heart
for you
was changing like the season

and it was leaving
that stored up bucket I had of

and my first step in your direction
was when I learned
that you hadn't liked that candy anyways
when I learned
you spent hours phoning your acquaintances
before you resigned to calling the pet center


and somewhere along
I forgot my hate
you became a fountain
instead of a well

by that far along
our love wasn't matched
yours had grown strong
mine just hatched

now I could say
with truth
that I love you
it's just that
it's rough that
I can no longer catch you
It's hard to have a stronger love....also getting lazy in my poetry and not putting enough effort in anymore, sorry :/
Aug 2014 · 284
after breaking...
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
He didn't even deny it
But she no longer cared
titled after breaking because the hurt was too bad, couldn't let him go, therefore she accepted frivolity
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
tell me
is my love too extreme?
why do you run away from hooks?
when i give everything

is all my love too little?
should i give more than the sun?
i want to know which one of me
let you decay
left you undone

i would humbly beg
to know the cost
to bring you back to me
even though
my love's so strong
i never let you leave

just one more time
remind me
what makes you want to go?
why do my loved ones
want to leave
when i love them so?
Laments of a mother who gives too much to her children: so much that she has also taken away from them.
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
Her smile is infectious.
She's both delicate and beautiful
And I can't find the logic
that makes me so resentful.

My words are ice, are cutting
But, I can't hold them back
The torrent keeps on coming
'til her demeanor cracks

I hear her wounded echos
But she's stranded there, alone
And there's none to blame for her abuse
I did it on my own.

And as her cries call to me
Guilt stirs
So does sympathy
But, I'm trying to teach a worthy lesson
Those tears
won't mean

I'm trying hard to lend a hand.
One day, she'll come to understand.
Then, that anguish in her eyes
won't destroy her
on the inside.

each whipping
- from my temper -
an opportunity.
Like ones I've used
to wrap myself
in walls
that boast security.

                                           *All this is disastrous
                                    her heart is filled with madness
                                                    an anger
                                             but she didn't show
                                               now she can't tell
                                          her life's a twisted Hell
Story: When she sees beauty, she destroys. This girl hopes that her abuse will somehow make the other stronger. After all it has worked for her.
The last stanza is from the eyes a girl who sees what the abuser cannot.
Aug 2014 · 818
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
and though he kept shining
our love was fading fast
Aug 2014 · 1.6k
She was wicked.
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
She was wicked
she strutted through my kitchen barefoot
my glasses perched upon her nose
in a t-shirt
that was incredibly ****
though her dancing
resembled a frog.
She was wicked
my heart didn't break
it shattered
and the cruel fate of my love
is to continuously retrieve the pieces she tampered with
weld them together
I refuse to let go
of the memories.

She was twisted
in a way
we were practically intertwined
our bodies felt right
our minds were in tune
She was twisted
in a way
that I misunderstood
because she said she'd leave
but her laughs kept ringing
until I forgot the sting
in every way that I could
of those words
that meant
I'm leaving for good.
Jul 2014 · 715
The Way I Saw You
Emily Pidduck Jul 2014
Honey, when I first saw your face
I was thinking
she's pristine
and I know the look you gave meant
I've never been more unclean

A year passed by
I spoke by heart
You seem untouched to me
You frowned at that and revealed those
scars of the deepest degree

And the day that I insisted
you'd always been intact
you rolled your eyes and stripped
away the layers hiding cracks

Even after, when I declared
you're whole and bright and pure
you raged and cried and begged
then why's it so hard to endure

And when you had laid bare your all
to confute my observations
you saw yourself through my eyes

*such a beautiful creation
Jul 2014 · 631
Once a day
Emily Pidduck Jul 2014
Once a day
I think of you
Your hair that grew white at 40
Your tending of the garden
How cats trailed you
as if your world was paced just right

Once a day
I fall for you
for your abundance of heels
your soothing voice
your gentle hands
your lack of plans, you loved to rest in Sunday's best
I fall because
you fell too

Once a day
I remember before
when the rich girl
gave it up
for the poor boy
and as I had to teach you everything
I remember thinking it was worth it
it's been worth it ever since

and once a day
all day long
I sit on my porch with eyes shut tight
listening for the rasping of worn down Janet
and her broken muffler
announcing your return

Well, it's a bit silly
because Janet's been compounded
and I know that despite all the efforts
you've been years grounded
and the folks in this town
have made sure I'm hounded
telling me once a while
to leave this place

Once a day
I've been waiting
I'm still waiting
I will wait
story of my grandparents, one died much earlier
May 2014 · 330
On the 8th of Novemeber
Emily Pidduck May 2014
When am I permitted
to forget? When can I bury these memories?

The ones where you laughed, as I used to
Ones where you trembled in anticipation
before those shakes became

The ones where I overheard your men
who said you begged of God
and over
To let me forget you
as you had to forget me
amidst the smoke, ash, clicks and debris

And I wish I hadn't received that letter with
those unofficial Last Words
your comrade heard

Those weren't the ones I wanted most
they didn't set me free
I needed your: "I'm coming home"
You belong right here with me

And I wish I could forget
that there are memories
I can't remember

but with the truth of time
I've come to know
We were never One
Because Your Face
when my memories stir

And my tears are for the grave
you share
with another man
and a foot

I am thankful that the rows of crosses
have no faces

If I saw your face, I would beg for mercy
I'd plead anything to forget
I can't remember your eyes
or laugh

What I recall is a hollow man who screams.
Your voice that whispered
It's all a dream
is drowned out by that bellowing

And I can numb my eyes
to those images
but the knowledge still burns

Because I wish I could forget
that there are memories
I can't remember

                                         *What I recall is that you left
                                          on the eighth of November
Forgetting beloveds, in a war-time scene
May 2014 · 3.1k
Stuck in the Mist
Emily Pidduck May 2014
In this mist I can't quite see my edges properly
I'm coping on the level of
both rational and almost raving
and I want to shine
which isn't much, just a firefly light
but I'm in the midst of susurration
and they're not gentle, and there's no calming breeze to carry me
because my wings have been closed for a long time
and I can only beg
but to whom?
It doesn't feel sincere
when I'm not even sure
But I promise that I mean it
because these tears aren't for my own benefit
they are to show you that I've still a little fight left
enough to wrap myself in
Because now, I'm only fighting for myself
Although I was always told to upraise the ones reaching
and I'm not content, I am trying
and I need
a transformation
but I can't croak out "Save me".
Even as I dangle over this puddle, and I work up courage
courage to find your ears
in hopes that you'll hear me,
I also know I'm losing strength
becoming heavier
I am certain that I'm now too heavy for you, I will pull you with me
so I will wait longer
searching the mist
for someone with superhuman strength
and I will grow more tired
until that hand comes
and discovers
that my weight it otherworldly, now
and they will have to choose
if I am worth the struggle.

The devil will hope to cheat
but God's Will decides.
Depression that isn't the destruction of oneself so much as the uncertainty and fear that you're losing yourself.
May 2014 · 1.6k
Losing Nirvana
Emily Pidduck May 2014
Lush green of variant shades
cloud my vision with the hush of tranquility
There is no mystery here
only the simple drop of sunlight that can't quite penetrate
I can remember the times on this grass with you
when we stretched out in Nirvana
and I'm not certain where you've gone
but this blissfulness entrances me
enhances me
so I am one in essence with this triumphant fertility
that makes not even the slightest rustle

And here in Nirvana, I can crawl on my belly
keeping to myself
avoiding the bright sun
until I reach the newest dream
that whispers tales in the ripples

But here, ignorance is reflected in the disturbance
of a shimmering pond as a snake enters the water
and slithers across my face
There have been no creatures here before
and all I can think is what a beautiful thing

Leaves fall down and wither at my feet
branches brush my shoulders
and I am annoyed that they try to hold me back
All I want
is to glide my hand across those scales
to stroke that body before it goes
and I am left wondering

So I bend down before the pond
and I can't hear my peaceful song
and its' tongue flicks out to greet me
so so sweetly
and I can't understand why the snake is now laughing
or why I'm sweating
or how I came to notice that I'm feeling captured
not enraptured
So I creep back, and I run towards the brightest sun
and the snake is gone
as I break through the ferns that snap and whimper goodbye
and I see the edge to the unknown land

Maybe I could choose to strut forward or sink back
but I'm forgetting
I can't image the soft greens
The pond seems muggy in my memory
and your face is blocked, now we'll never meet

And I'm so fearful of the colours that I don't remember
so I plow into the mist
and I never truly "know"
but I can feel
as I lose my Nirvana
a twist to Eden
Emily Pidduck May 2014
I've these issues with white lies.
At what point did they become white?
At what point
did I lose the fight
When do they shatter from innocence
to be condemned?
When is it reasonable that I've become furious to no end?
I can't understand the switch of colours
and perhaps there ARE cases
when you'll need to lie for peace of mind
...but then it's okay?
What kind of ****
is one spewing, to excuse themselves?
Because I've heard too many baseless ones, so I'm asking a serious question
I didn't want to hurt her feeling
That's fantastic! Why on earth would you?
If we are looking at people right
If we are acting as we should
Then why would one need to lie?
You find him disgusting?
Have you even been looking?
There are a million things about him
and you aren't smart enough to find
a good one
any one of them?
I'm not asking you to point out preferences and disgrace him because he lacks yours. I'm asking you to embrace your conscience.
Because we were all born with it
What baby chooses to detest somebody?
Is that even possible?
because they have preferences too
and that includes any arms that hold them
We LEARN to shiver
to feel the revolt
to want to laugh
when our bar isn't met

But there are other white lies, that are just too ridiculous.
I had a lot of fun
How wonderful if it's true
but why is it
too hard to say
I didn't have a great time, but this (one thing) was more
to my liking

and I'll say THERE IS something
that's been enjoyed because that's what we'd get
if we could search out the lovely,
not escalate the ugly

and it's not that I have a particular hate for "white" lies
because any coloured lie is heavy
I just want us to
that the price is just as large
Any questions on how this might work out with situations are fine. Don't attack me, this is simply an opinion...
Apr 2014 · 2.7k
shine, little girl
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
little girl
I want you to keep everything that makes you strong
I want you to treasure
the reason you can still stand tall
I want you to be wild
and free with desire
Ignore their calls, feed your fire

and little girl
how can you be hurt so many times?
your soul is young
you tongue is gold
I've never seen you yet turn cold
and I want you to stay
though you shan't be long
so hold your head high little girl
don't conform to the brokenness
let your creaking be a different kind
than the the overwhelming, the openness
that wickedness has dared to spread
little girl don't creep back with the rest
Keep trying your best
I don't want you left for dead

little girl
you are only 65
I'm telling you
you still have time
so hold on to your wits
and shine
and then
your glow might last my lifetime
I've been given a lot of advise recently from older people I will never meet again. I guess this would be my spiel to them.
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
I didn't do it.
You've proved
Says my cat circling
shattered remains
and looking
on the world
in disdain.
Stupid cats
with eyes so bored
with the conduct
of lords
and the unholy reign
of each's domain
For shame!


I got into a very odd cat mood...
Apr 2014 · 1.9k
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
Curses to that boy.
For spoiling you; leaving a dent
For taking your energy
For leaving you spent

How dare he think he could keep you to himself?
For months on end
Until I didn't recognize the beautiful you
You were covered in a cloud of him

Curses for that boy
who cursed you
because why else did your eyes so blue turn a pale grey?
if you were not used?

Cursing myself because I befriended him
so I can see in his eyes the sadness he feels
and he's regretful
but he's not
because he doesn't want that path
the one of guilt so strong
where you're hanging on the edge of the crack
and the only rope is to right your wrong
but you both know
you wouldn't take him back

And there are real curses.
If not, then why did that lady who looks so lovely
have such a tragic story?
Cursed by time for the older mother, soon gone
Cursed by disease as her mother departed -
no match for her cancerous beast.
Cursed by fate.
As she made soup for a queasy sister.
Such a small hint, a short phone-call
And she arrived to greet the deceased.
And she was foredoomed to relent her peace.

Curses to anyone who has wronged!
I should think.
I hate how there are two sides
Because then I remember how I used to love it all
And I'm afraid
of that love resurfacing
And I'm afraid
that I am verging on witch-hood

And I was raised never to curse
Lest I become the devil at its worst
real events
Apr 2014 · 370
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
You're a beauty.
Haven't I told you this?
                   Darling why can't you hear me?

Hush, no don't think of it - let me
take that back. I know why.
Because for all my screaming
their whispers are louder

Please don't forget
this broken, unsure shadow you're becoming
isn't you
Not all of you.
Even as you crumble I can spot your light
your sweet, gentle soul
that curses and demeans to protect yourself
but you never mean it
and so I can't keep my eyes off of you

but my heart is speaking
telling me:

demons destroy
but make a beautiful mess
I begin to see more
but I start to know less

I see how the scars lie deep in your wrists
but I come up with nothing
there's no way to fix you
because you aren't defeated
Sweetheart, you're lost
Can't you find me?

Find me Treasure, I'm calling!

                                                      ­        she made more scars
                                                           fell too hard
                                                         and no one heard from her again

It's killing me, Love
My voice never wavered - steady all through.
just once
just once
you should have listened to me
and believed in you

*i once felt ruined and ripped apart
                                            i just smile now
                                      remembering that I can sew
demons destroy - know less is by Chantelle, she made more scars - her again is by NothingButMe, It's killing me - believed in you is by Matill, i once felt - i can sew is by MissMorbid. I simply saw all of these and I thought they made a perfect story together because I had read them all around the same time, and this is written from a while back.
Apr 2014 · 7.0k
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
Moon is not beautiful
She doth not shine golden
She drops weakened, white light
on creatures craving sleep

She sits there and stares
At a frightened little world
with her cold, chilling glow
and a hostility deep

It's ingrained in her soul
to make the nimbus look fearsome
ghastly and pale
like a place to hide demons

She debases belief
We forget our star-wish
and thick, we go fishing
at nighttime

And then, Moon releases
a loneliness, cold
and we can't elude
we're stuck in the hole of
This brooding solitude mood
and its tole.

There's no escaping anytime soon
As we start to fear
the burning sun
And I suppose, this is my loathing of Moon.

Moon is contagious.
She offers the aid of her presence, unfailing
When we're washed down like willows, weakened
and wailing

And we can sail under her
Just as the dime
It's a lie that the night's
only clock-start for crime

When she's out from the hiding place
to be bright as Moon can
There's not a direction
No footpath
No overworked plan

And when I remember:
Beauty needs not a rival
I suppose I'll be loving Moon, soon again.
I was told to take the side of love and hate, so I chose the wonderful moon - which I actually adore. To make the last line sound right, you have to pronounce it so at to rhyme with "plan", as I am Canadian and I say it that way. :)
Apr 2014 · 15.1k
Lion Eyes
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
Behind your eyes I see lions
And you know them well
And you fear

Roars resonate in your tortured mind
And you regret being bizarre
You want to stay in line
But the bustle in the crowds won't accept your direction
You're an infection - peculiar
in a derogatory sense.
The howls from the people let you discover
That this place is for hyenas
You cower
Lest you be ripped to shreds
And on your panicked escape
You leave a lioness behind
The one you had named Unique
and her cries are of a dreadful kind

Claws feast into your weary soul
They are your own
As you keep under prison guard
The character given by God
Desperately you cling onto branches
Not sturdy enough to hold you forever
but you'd do anything to avoid being trampled
By the hooves of the many
When you have but a few lions left
The rest were dropped as uncertainty clouded your vision
Until your cat eyes
Did not even benefit in the night

But you are forgetting

Should you choose a weak road
At least chase the antelope
Heaven knows
You were meant to run wild
Not Climb

But when you become stronger
as lions always do
You will run before the hoof beats
Because you are extraordinary
And when you realize
They will have no choice but to
And the mass will part
The moment you roar

And when the herd is separated
Blind or awake
You shall find your lioness
As she is running home

Let her meld within your heart
Let her be part of your masterpiece
Until you recognize the majesty
of your lions

And without fear
When you love yourself
You will see the beast in mine eyes as well
Don't really know where this came from, but remember that each comes across hardships no matter their gifts.
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014

bushido invasion
memory still vivid in the Chinese
of a slaughter
chopped and lobbed into the river
display their heads
let the next line kiss the remains
but the time is ticking
and the water is only pink
mowed down
with bullets
and laughter
they can turn and swim
Japanese aim is good
not one makes it to the other side
the pink
is a deep red flood
becoming a dam
with the bodies of

why did those murdered forget
the purple mountain legend
when it burns
the city falls
why did they not flee faster

the policy issued
do not let that little boy
take revenge
5 years old
they severed him

Japanese leaders saw a chance
to remove any pity
in the solider
they ripped out

training exercise
hoist your bayonet
plunge forward
men with bound wrists
considered subhuman

routine puts soldiers at a disadvantage
fire is added
fields are swamped with oil
and laced with people
patrolled edges
keep the cries alive
the only release

movement is needed
tanks must pass
chatting soldiers hang out the sides
wheels roll over the bodies
filling the ditches
if there is not enough
they found the closest Chinese
and added it to the pile

2 leaders
in a fight to show superiority
uptake a challenge
to win is 100
swords are withdrawn
ignore its' eyes
the race
a beheading
lost count
up the stakes

only the beginning
for the women

a hunt commences
females do not leave the house
there is not one in the streets
rounded up
army trucks
bringing in loads
******* like animals
chained to racks
commonly gang-*****
bleeding to death
aged under 8
over 80
a pregnant women
***** to death
her fetus cut out
and destroyed
from higher ups

and the advice given
pikankan is acceptable
every warrior should
do not let them talk
**** the pigs
when they are done being women

more than 20,000
maybe less than 80,000
in the carnage

journalist support
with authentic recounts

but with time
confused hospitalization
of the soldiers
who puked every meal
and gagged from inside out
as the horrors ate them

the only relief
an international safety zone
perhaps 20 Westerners
to help a mere 300,000
only half
at intervals
Japanese crossed the fence
for the women hunt
for Chinese soldiers
recognized by calloused hands

******* on a Westerner arm
a symbol
as he aided
survivors of the massacre
and the Nazis in Nanking
leaked information
on the horrors
****** ordered silence

a single surgeon
a lucky boy with only one bayonet puncture
missing eyes
missing ears
half a nose from
100 tied together
set on fire

Japanese photography
of bonding moments
as they watched
a house packed tight
panicked people on roofs
to escape flames

6-8 weeks later

more refined brutality
enforced prostitution
and intake of *****
****** cigarettes for children

the West
in ignorance
watched the German rise
forgot responsibility
to humanity
in the Asian wars

no apology
unfair hatred
of later innocent Japanese generations
mention of Hiroshima
amuses some Chinese
doesn't bother others
it's not everyone
that's still too many

lacking sympathy
the road to brutality
Horrifying and saddening, considered by many to be on par with the genocide of the Jews in brutality. If there are any deep questions please message me, otherwise comments are fine. Anything confusing, just ask. Please do not take offensively, I believe most of what I have said is fact, not interpretation.
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
Remember Jerry 'cross the street?
He never said much
But I've placed my life in his hands
Time and time again
He's no longer a boy, Ma
But I don't know how to say
He'll never be a man

And Thomas, who stayed with us last summer
He was part of my squad
Was as straight-laced as ever
But we were knee-deep in wickedness
I hope he met God

And Andy was my partner
Always making me feel small
So I had a man's resentment for him
But he was truly very kind
Putting my safety first
Because he left me behind
to re-wrap my bandages
to stop my stump from bleeding, right?
Oh, and we fought
see, my pride was hurt
I was no pantywaist, I still had a leg
But he just laughed, said he'd come back
so, I've been lying in bed alert
'cause I'm still waitin' for that
man lying face-down in the dirt

But Ma, I'm coming back to Canada
And I only want you cryin' happy tears
But know that I won't visit our little town
Not for a long, long while
And maybe never our street
Not that home-road of the twelve ambitious young men
and little Peter, sneaking into the bustle
While only fifteen

Mother, please believe me
I love Newfoundland
But I'm heading over
to Alberta
So try to pretend I'm fully gone as well

Please don't tell ~
the only one to survive the shell
was your boy
who's gone through hell

I hope the rest were sent to heaven.
For the Newfoundland families, where entire streets would have no sons because each was taken and left in the battlegrounds.
Apr 2014 · 465
Changing Winds
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
In warm sunlight
upon my neck I feel soft shivers
as you caress my sweat
and you carry the soft cries
of a hummingbird
who's little wings beat their full power
against your gentle storm.
A gentle whiff
of a foul scent
descends upon my sense
and I resent that you've left me
but if I give you time
you return with a strength so beautiful
the odor is destroyed
and wisps of my hair flutter
like parade flags
praising your gentle demeanor
and soothing murmur

but in the dark storm
with lightning crackles
cast by gods or science
your presence is fearsome
you are esteemed to be the terror of a shrieking Mother
Nature, and by nature - you cannot be stopped,
only regarded with delightfully reverential eyes
eyes filled with tears
perhaps your tears
as raindrops are launched
with the same ominous power used to toy with waves
tease oceanic squalls
flirt with floods
and ravage each land chosen
because heatwave or frozen
only your reckoning
gives birth or destruction
to vim
from your feeble whim

but I will ever call
for the tantalizing effect you direct
to my cells that come alive when you fill the streets
with your choice of a dainty fulfillment
or dark engulfment
of the sensations I possess
and I ask for nothing less

only for recognition
of your influential status
and you claim dominance
oh, World's preeminent
what can I say, I love the wind
Apr 2014 · 751
Baby, you're here.
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
little hand's hold
little toes cold
little born soul
at how old?

I'm not one for protests, baby
But I'd fight anyone
who'd say you weren't alive
when I could feel your heart beat within mine.
I'm not one for objection
But I'd challenge anyone
who'd say you couldn't hear
cause we've talked like crazy, though less than a year
And I'm not one to outcry the next
They could try their best
to deny you as a child
but before you first cried out
You'd been a person for awhile
Because I felt you, baby
I felt you smile
and you felt
when my fingers pressed against your wall
and you heard my call
and I called you, Baby
I'm not actually against abortion, but I think there are a lot more than should be.
Mar 2014 · 703
Chasing Ignorance
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
Sweet whispers, unlock me
Set free my dark misery
   Sweep paths full of mystery
For truth is a devil.*

It's not a rush you feel, it's fear
A darkness prevailing, soon to be near
This kind of madness, will claim you for years
And all I can say is, "Take cover, my dear"

It's not unknown, you've heard the calling
A seductive moaning befalling
Begging for directions, pleading
That you take place leading

A soft greeting so fleeting
That you've been intrigued
But I sense that this meeting
Will leave you fatigued

And the kind of horrors you shall view
Shall leave you believing
Red has only one hue
That of life leaving

And those villains knew
They've become you
Once again, a warriors poem. Start: regrets of a warrior. Stories told to him of war. The glories of killing with guns, asked of him. Curiosity before the ****. The overwhelming sensation of ******. The horror of no return when you see life leave a killer's eyes and enter your own.
Mar 2014 · 3.7k
Angels to Demons
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
In the light I've been dreaming
of angels born screaming
to taste
of the darkness of night.

In the dark I've been bitten
by demons still hidden
to wait
for the brightest of days

And angels hold brilliance
And the demons': poor ignorance
and those demons want back to the light

But there's never
a path in sight

And the only illumination to come
is a terrifying thing

Because the Son
Shall strike down their king.
the sad story of Lucifer's temptation and fall(with followers), and the judgement
Mar 2014 · 1.1k
Coo, Dear Mother
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
silent dove resting
Your babies been crying
Though lying in the fox's jaws,
Tribute to all those mother's who keep pain from their children at all costs. Yes, both children and mother could be "in the fox's jaws", whichever affects you more.
Mar 2014 · 879
the Song of Thumps
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
The rattling door as the wind whistles
the calls of the crows amongst the fields
shuffling feet that stirs the dirt
you can't imagine the power it yields

The grunts, the sighs from every mouth
the clicks, the clacks on the keyboard
the whine of a lonely pup
I've never heard that kind of cord

When the music dips and climbs
and we feel the pounding bass
as it stalls before the drop
then, we're locked
in a quiet place

Then waves in the air
and the quivering ground
are drowned to death
by shrieking sounds

But what you hear
comes nowhere near
to the Song of Thumps
that guides my world

So don't pretend you
feel the pounding floor
the way that I do
for my partially deaf brother who can hear most of what's in front of him, and little behind. who likes to stand right beside speakers in concerts because the pounding is his favourite part
Mar 2014 · 4.5k
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
Sometimes to survive you need to be painstakingly emotionless
You need to bite your lip to hold the screams
Block it out
just Breathe

But beware the stories.

There's a mother who at 33 became a drunkard
and she had 3 lovers
and she loved none.
And Dad stopped loving
because it hurt too much to love
even his own son.
And the neighbour had to tell Tommy
he wasn't a brother anymore.
And that family
at the core

And this kind of failing
the kind where each who lost
added to the cost
only to push themselves further under: it makes me wonder
How long can I deceive myself?
to pretend that it's all good
Told my mind
Just breathe it out.
and We'll be as We Should

There's a brother
I've been told
Who sold his body for less than gold
and he is RIDICULED
His Father Beats Him
and his darkness deepens
But his 12 year old sister hallucinates:
redemption as his fate
But his story held a choice
it was Him or Her
and his voice pleaded
that he should be the one
so she might have freedom
and they agreed
Now at night, while she's Dreaming
he's Screaming

That boy said to me
that he holds a dream
of a sister still clean
which means to him
That he's worth something still
and the nights can be bared
as long as she never knows
his type of scared
And this has me bawling
and clawing for air.
And my lungs fight for life
just to get there.

There's a father
with a wishful life
with cheerful children
and a gentle wife
And he's a Grandma's Boy
well, that's all he had left
and at her death
he's pitiful, on the ground
gasping for breath
Now he lives in FEAR
of the loneliness returning
that devoured him as a little boy
for years
So now he's running, so afraid of what's coming
that the path back is lost
and he never
the cost

and I feel tears when I watch him chatter with his family
because it's always a bonding moment of one on one
but if you look around, there's absolutely none
And I've started to feel lonely
when it's only me
but I remind myself: you can't go down that road
and you won't
if you can just Breathe.

There's a sister
with a child born out of wedlock
and she's felt fury
from her loved ones
Because of this Situation
Even Though
she resisted *******
And she just wants to find some love
so she protects that baby with everything that counts
and every ounce of resistance she has left
And She Will Keep Every Cry Inside
until that child arrives
and starts screeching
and she's shrieking
until that baby's tired eyes fall asleep
and she can enter her own weary zone
but she goes to deep

I'm having trouble processing
this story ending
because I've heard that beginnings are a beautiful thing
but this child won't even have
a mother to sing
to her at night
so How is she supposed to stop screaming?
and with this knowledge
How am I supposed to find meaning?

And I know

I know

I know there's good

And I know that pain can't win
so long as we hold it in

Breathe in
and out
and in

But Sometimes

I can't Breathe.

and that's when I bellow
right before the never-ending screams
I'm not suggesting giving up, but I want recognition for those who feel the burden of every story and weight they hear.
Mar 2014 · 465
the blood stream
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
the thump thump from the pump
has a ****** gurgle
that gushes and glides through a closed system

but with the touch of air
screams pierce deep inside the hollow drums
and the thrum of feet flailing
has introduced a maniacal laugh so crass
it drowns the wails
and the pump stops
at the same resounding moment when the clock goes

tick tock



and all that's left is a silent stream
and the loudest drip



you've ever seen
questions are fine :) it reads better if you leave the pauses instead of reading quickly
Mar 2014 · 492
What are you feeling?
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
What are you feeling?
Are you stumbling back again?
What are you dreaming?
Have the nightmares worn the barriers thin?

Are you still trying?
Have they been lying to you?
Are you breaking so hard it feels like you're dying,
staying up all night, every night crying?

They hear you - want to help you break through.
So long since you were encouraged
and you no longer feel worthless.
These tunnels that were caving were just them penetrating.
Pulling you out of the night
and into the light
giving you sight.

What are you seeing?
How can their tongues hold so much power?
Just can't let go; they made you whole.
You're caught in their blood-stained ropes.

One more sleep without the covers
they started out sweet
but turned to monsters.
You're open, exposed
but still they hovered.

Entered your dreams, forced you awake.
And with nowhere to hide, pain so clear on your face,
they caught it all on tape.

They see your tears,
were just trying to help you overcome your fears.
Giving you a courage
so you could stop being worthless.
The tunnels that were caving
were just them penetrating.
Bringing you out of the night
into the light
giving you sight.

What are you fearing?
Don't you have friends to help you now?
Why have your screams opened the doors to your doubts?

You're seeing before
that which was hidden
and confusion's masked your vision.
Is that a smile? or the icing?
To the push that sends you colliding.

Stop, they saved you!
Only to play you.
Farther into the lava flow, they're not letting go.
They'll never let go.


Girl, you'll make it.
Boy, you're breaking out of their hold
there's nothing but gold left for you.

Now you're climbing so high
that you're flying
up to the sky shining
lighting up the night.

Below they're screaming,
demanding a redo
to stop you from pulling through
But. They. Can't. Touch. You.

From above, you see the darkness
a hand reaching for the surface.
And as you dive, what's clouding your mind is:
Will I make it in time?

Desperately stretching, trying to give everything.
But he's letting go
losing hope
No longer willing to play
all of their games.

You hear yourself say:

What are you feeling?
Are you stumbling back again?
What are you dreaming?
Have the nightmares worn your barriers thin?

Still, keep on trying.
I know they've been lying to you.
You're not really dying.
Stop all your cries
that shatter the night

I'm here for you.
Please tell me if there are any specific good or not-so-good parts in this, because I have trouble reading it well, since it's actually written as a song. :)
Also, the break (***) is not a new poem, it's just the beginning of the brighter side of the cycle.
Mar 2014 · 384
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
How many times can't I escape the fall?
Or how many time shan't I?
because sometimes collapse is needed.
but judgement is hard(or easy)
but i did
My judgement is off.
Because my falling has become a wicked hole
it's not black it's a blinding swirl of colours
separately gorgeous and together they rip from me the sense of beauty I had treasured now measured in seconds
that have been wasted
as I stand, one of the fallen

when I remember that not everyone's felt four seasons
but those reasons aren't enough

that when cats let go
there's no such thing as back drop

and I dream of falling in love
and out of love
whichever gives me wings

but I guess I'm already falling into old age
But WHY is that upsetting?
FIRST you must fall young

it's what I've learned from the trees - the only way to spread
without the feeling
of falling
to your death


I've never minded desperate falling, when arms shoot out to hit ground first
'cause when you're upside down

that's why I can't handle complaints on falling
dear goodness, pay attention

It's probably your calling.
I do understand sometimes when people talk of falling it's not positive, but this is hopefully a reminder to remember there's always something uplifting. Always.
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