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15.1k · Apr 2014
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.
12.0k · Sep 2014
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
7.0k · Apr 2014
Moon
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. :)
4.5k · Mar 2014
Breathing
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
broke
at the core
           -wailing

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
recognizes
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
out
in
out

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.
3.8k · Sep 2014
Helpless
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
3.7k · Mar 2014
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
3.4k · Jan 2015
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.
3.2k · Dec 2013
my Monsters and my Warden
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
My castigation was decided long before my backslide. And that is inexcusable, the righteous might declare "unfair". But I don't want any belligerent accusations against this 'unjust watchfulness' from above. Some entity must have understood that I didn't need guidance; I needed walls: some forcing to reach my destiny. Without my jailer, I'd have chosen one of three and let them lead me into a darkness that the pitiful call 'demons'. Claws and teeth? No, each monster was irreplaceable and I loved them. If possible, if they could comprehend a 'love', I vow they would have loved me. But the Warden took them: my punishment before my crime. Perhaps the disposal of these beasts seems considerate, but toss aside those foolish illusions because the burden has not lessened rather, it is unfamiliar. Omitting strength, for I  lost my foundation, I stand in fear with this hole. The Three aren't returning; I'm left with loose bindings - the knots are the songs of my memories. Beautiful Terrors, do I need you? Let me tell you their stories.

Number One:
I remember his voice calling for me. "Daisy! Flowers for you." It was our little game, and I'm sure he made girls jealous when he handed me a bouquet of roses.
My name was Petunia, but I hated that name, and I loved all that's yellow.
So when we were little he took my hand, and we went into a treefort, and he dubbed me Lady Daisy.
He was 7 and I was 4, and there began my adoration.
Then I was older and heartbroken, and I was calling him. "Waldon! It's hurting me."
He arrived so soon, I was still in hysteria - that of a 14 year old gone through breakup.
Then I cried harder because somehow my brother presented me with a tulip and declared, "It's an early present from the only boy who's going to love you more than I do."
17, and I understood fascination. And Willow (for though it's girly, I liked it more than Waldon, and he let it be) was entranced by a wild girl. She was a shockbomb - a warm sungirl that rocked stilettos and never littered nor waited past a minute.
He fell for her so hard from so high.
One day that girl kissed him straight on the lips, then jetted off to England.
Said he could follow her in spirit.
I couldn't hate her because she left his body, but it was hard to appreciate his body when the government took even that away, insisting he be laid beneath cold dirt. Then too many questions: "Why did you hold his hand for three days? Were you thinking of following? Petunia, why won't you buy flowers for the gravestone?" Then there were horrified eyes when I asked who Petunia was, because I had forgotten. Or, truthfully, there was no Petunia, only Daisy. And Daisy had Willow. The Flower and the Tree: that was supposed to be the story. So I refused to buy flowers, and without any sort of ceremony I stopped being 'Lady' and became 'Crazy Daisy', who talked to her demons. Now you see why I never wanted to part with Number One, because although he was a monster (you can't deny the terror of a body with no spirit), he knew me best.
Dear Warden, I've no suicide in me, and there's none left could lead me there, and it may be that I've grown taller, but I'm practically blind.

Number Two:
She was weak since I can remember. I'd say her vulnerability was pneumonia, which I can only presume led to my hatred of 'Petunia': two words incredibly similar when reason encounters a child.
And I liked her name "Maribel" because it sounded like a flower.
I mimicked my brother, but he was persistent that I must call her mother.
Again, this made no sense until 8, when I had a revelation that all this time I'd had no family. At least not in the heart of a girl, because Maribel wasn't a vibrancy to look up to., though she was my one relation.
There was just her in a bed. Sometimes a man visited but I never knew why Willow grew tense; all I saw was my mother acquire spots of brown. How I loved brown, because it seemed as though she was genuinely Mother, like all those other moms that the sun tans, or that could be given filthy hugs that left patches of dirt. In turn, I always welcomed that man, and he was a 'saviour'.
And Willow's father.
Death found both Willow and that man (I know, now, the difference) before I understood 'abuse', and try not to blame me because she never complained and I thought abuse meant people were unhappy, but I saw both of them smile. I laid her beside him, but with space inbetween: a ground for my casket. Because I'd gone slightly crazy and I was telling Number Two that if I awakened as a zombie, I'd need to be able to find his hand first.
That was nuts. But Warden, I don't fully understand. You stopped her bleeding, but I'm left with nothing. I hear their voices in my head, telling me I'm healthy, but I know I'm barely breathing.

Number Three:
I dealt Three tragedy. And in doing so, I guilted myself into worthlessness. Classic to the moral law is: it is not acceptable to introduce a roommate to a shady character. But I ignored the concept of shady - applauded my nonjudgmental attitude, because with my twisted past I would have also been a shadowy figure. With a sweet, sweet smile, I handed that bright girl over to a Peacock who promised to give her 'a good feeling.' And I ignored her tears, because he said he'd please her.
Maybe if I hadn't been loopy, the only way I could "be" with One, I might have noticed that me and he weren't the same, and I could have judged him like the others.
Annie, I'm sorry, please just shine once more.
Even if you're afraid of me and my wickedness, don't be ****** into the gloom, because I can't offer advice to resurface, when I think there's none.
Now, there's Zero for me to turn to, because that's what I am. I am empty. I suppose that's what happens when I trust a boy who leaves, yearn for one who's weak, and think I've the durability to rely on myself (but I've equaled a pitch black crater for a while now).
You're more clear now, Warden. I can understand why you've taken everything. Since nothing I had would give me my fairyland ending. But where's my reward? I need my gift first, because these feet don't know which direction to head, and it's more like I was holding onto rocks that cut me while they warmed me. My feet kick against the waves, but in this half-in half-out position I can't get a good momentum, so a hand now would be nice.

My stories, did they surprise? I hear all this chatter about monsters, but I think we've got them wrong. Monsters simply have a hold one you, and there's no release before you've no choice but to part. They are strong, and it's true that I saw nothing stronger than the Willow.  Only my jailer saw my potential, and he directed me to Zero. He asked for recognition so that I knew my task was not optional and he raised my walls until I stood there, lonely - pushed into belief in myself. But now I am the strongest I know, and I am walking on wind, and from up here I cannot see a single barrier. But Warden, don't you ever leave because if those walls break for a second and I see my demons, I know I'll lose flight and beg them to come back. And that would be the end, because there's no chance Number Four.
Another slightly confusing one, so feel free to ask questions. Please don't take anything offensively, I simply thought that it's more powerful to have a strong viewpoint on 'demons'.
3.2k · Jan 2015
Surrender
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
surrender

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
surrender
later, you will grow strong
3.1k · May 2014
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.
2.8k · Oct 2014
Numb
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...
2.7k · Apr 2014
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
1937

bushido invasion
memory still vivid in the Chinese
of a slaughter
prisoners
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
prisoners
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
children
ladies
gentlemen

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

the policy issued
plunder
burn
******
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
humanity
inserted
brutality

training exercise
hoist your bayonet
plunge forward
twist
extract
plunge
twist
extract
men with bound wrists
considered subhuman
butchered
plunge
twist
spit

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
death

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

competition
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
150

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
encouragement
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
defiled
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

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

a single surgeon
a lucky boy with only one bayonet puncture
another
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
jumping

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
denial
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
lingers
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.
1.9k · Apr 2014
Curses
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
1.8k · Jan 2015
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.
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.
1.6k · Nov 2013
Is it Worth It?
Emily Pidduck Nov 2013
Do you see that girl? Hideous.
Her face is an abomination.
It's no wonder no one loves
that false replica of creation.

And that other one's a *******,
you can tell by her low V
flaunting double D's
like a sign flashing "I'm ******".

Now Ugly she's unlucky; to hook a boy
she needs a trap,
and *****'s got personality
but no one gives a crap.

Both are swimming desperately,
but waves are crashing endlessly.
And our tidal words that lacerate
drown them in a pool of hate.

You could of stopped it.
Was it worth it?
Mocking others to gain your status.

See that ****? He's handsome: a body that all crave.
But he's into art and stylish dress
Rumor says he's gay.

That other boy's pathetic, weak
and never takes a stand.
Little birdy told me
he's missing proof that he's a man.

Now Stupid's got it all - the very hottest dates,
but for all his charm and manliness, no one calls him straight.

Loser's slowly speaking up,
proving he gives a ****,
but all his pleas are over-looked as him on crack again.

Both are slowly burning,
flames licking at their heels,
and they let the hurt devour them
to stop the pain they feel.

You could have stopped it.
Was it worth it?
Mocking others to gain your status.

I've heard the spiteful rumors
that I'm deformed, somehow grotesque.
Standing at cliff's edge, I wonder
is it worth it?

Yes.

I'll take that step and free myself
from this world of misery.
All this time just waiting for your kindness that could save me.
I am not encouraging suicide. Please don't think that. This is more of a wake-up call for every time you let cutting words slip, because even "friendly *******" can be taken to heart.
1.6k · May 2014
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 Apr 2014
I didn't do it.
You've proved
nothing.
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!

(20w)


I got into a very odd cat mood...
1.6k · Aug 2014
She was wicked.
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
She was wicked
because
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
because
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
because
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.
1.6k · Dec 2013
Unspoken Love
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
He picked her up
again
and again
but she couldn't
learn to stand.

She broke his heart
ripped whole through
but it wasn't in her plan
to see him bleeding blue

and the boy would say to her

Just glow.                                  
All these bright lights?    
they're too much for you          
they truly don't suit    
and all I need                    
is your warmth come nighttime
where only I can see you shimmer        
your calming, calling glimmer
is only hidden in the daylight
light is not worth less
because the shine is dimmer

what matters is location                
if the dark is coloured pitch      
you'll light bright the whole nation
              

Alas
His words fell weak
on empty ears
because he was like sun,
and she had closed her eyes
to such powerful beams
she couldn't seem
to find the hand
that promised to be her one


and this girl
was shrouded in a half-truth

Monsters sidle up
with faces drawn as heroes
with words whispered as saviors

with teeth
and angry claws
at the time
the sun
is setting

and if you glow

too bright    
they find you

Thus,
Only from a distance
could she listen
and when dragged in
by persistence
she lost so much resistance
in the instance
when he cried for her


And they were Two




*But she could never say, "I love you."
I've read a lot of stories about people who are so wrecked inside that they can't be truthful, so I thought I'd try to show my gratitude for those who stay by their side without any sort of confirmation.
1.5k · Mar 2014
Sailin' Swallows
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
I've thoughts about the Swallows
and laments for my own
I've ears for tales
from sailor boys
who got to bring them home

The majesty of the thralling blue
entices me so vastly
but it's a land of sea I've never knew
Gaze o're the port
Await the crew
Pretend that ship come sailin' in
holds my own tattoos

But years ago I heard the news
of that return
that wasn't coming
The whales and waves
had 'come the graves
the Locker claimed
eight rocker'

But with my grief I felt not fear
though the depths
gulped my dear
And I've still the wish
of crossing tides
but by superstition
of the Hearty Folk
who prowl the shores
I shall abide!

And the legend uses the Swallow
one to depart
one on return
but I'd fall short
to qualify
for the journey coming home

With whopper tales I fell in love
That love took the rest
such is the Sea
I'll keep to the ground
easy to be found
though still dreamin' of
sailing free

But,

I.

can't.

ever.

simply put
my boys are dead
There's none to wait for me.
Feel free to ask questions if you're not sure about the legend or Swallows, or anything else
1.4k · Dec 2013
And all I see is Warm Bodies
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
define warmth for me, so that I comprehend
because I've been rubbernecking, though I reside here
and your greenhouse effect affects me not

I'm caught in a position of longing, but it is less of a yearning and more of an ambition
because I'd do utterly anything to feel the spark of embers
the sort of glow that old remember and young magnify

too often I'm hearing a climatic affair of the strong brought to knees
before being enveloped by a numbness that eases their burden
more often I am enraged by their weakness: disgusted by their vulnerability
or perhaps it's jealousy
from one who never felt the urge at the starter's pistol
it's hard to pity when the Arctic's all you've known

and maybe it's not fair
but who are you to say so
because I won't undergo your tragedy
and you won't fathom mine...
quit your babbling - it's all a mind game
and your wailing drives me wild
honestly, promise me nothing because keeping oath requires a fervor
which only comes with fire and you've the ability to find it despite your cold
but behold - that smouldering - I've never even felt it

still I can feel a trickle of pride
at your dab of effort when your arms encircled me
but dearest, I shivered
petrified, I sobbed because you were so close and blazing
while I was freezing
and that girl across the road sensed the calidity, unbuttoned her jacket and handed it over
to a man on the sidewalk in snowfall
he felt from her what she felt from you
you put scalding verses my glacial
green eyes were hopeful; my brown, resigned
I was worlds away from neutral

this ice has not enslaved me
make no illusion that there's a stand still
because I've yet to find the frosty pillar that might halt this endeavor for fire
on the streets I see vessels radiating my craving
and I wonder
by what method did they reach their warm condition
but at below 0
I suppose all you see is warms bodies.
For a couple of years I was wondering why I felt no emotion where others were crying, so this is a tribute to my old self. I'm not sure if this is amplified but I think that any fear is as equally terrifying in the moment.
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
Could vous just take a second, a moment, one solid instant
to visualize the boy in the stall with more felt lacerations than words of admiration.

Could the bold, bright, beautiful ones start singing
because I'm sick of the loud talk that goes through the motions of lingering
in an echoed room as they "try" to save the oceans - tell me, did we
litter on the way there? There's a forgotten world in stories told of heroes, breathing clean air.

Could the world give one more shot (a mountainous event) because history needs valor.
But technology is further than requirements for bravehearts to trigger a gun. Envision
a man four foot high, who stands a flag where poppies lie because he was that lucky man
who watched his fellows die
I'll say, weaponry wields death to We, naught could prove me wrong.

Could the world be a little bit more tight; bring back the mystery of gentlemen.
We're too loose and on the edge of loss, and the cost - oh, the cost
is sentimentality that somehow became disconnected when
baring your soul and stripping bare became two
and when I meet the one, my mind is plagued that we shall only amount to half.

Could the world be about more than the new, the sophisticated
or have too many eye closed to the life before the Dodo's died; now only
one view: to screen the disease from the rescued swingers, sinkers and singers
ahhhhhhhhh! basking in captivity: to compensate, we take back by metabolizing habitats.

Could the world be about to - because me and mine are everywhere,
but mind: the brain's likely to reach revelation. Clap, we will excel. After all,
when the world explodes and we reconnect, I'm sure each will preach and teach and leech
until it's known - We'll thank Gutenberg as needed, but printer is no master
when the minds are intertwined. But P'haps it has been a bad morning because I've known you
and you've bled true - long been fixing those around, so they aren't torches who warn off monsters,
instead they shave down fangs of loathing, there's no - not one! - beast they burn.
And don't I wonder? Ah yes, I do wonder: that now
Could the world be about to turn?
I realize this can be slightly confusing, but I promise there's a reason for all of it, so feel free to ask questions. Mostly, I wanted to add world afflictions together because each is unique, but equally important and sometimes I forget the ones not in front of me.
1.2k · Dec 2013
My Sister Knows - The Story
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
Rocks and trees
are no match for bees
they are too similar
there is no controversy
neither is worthy of the other
                  why...?

the world needs spray
from the crashing waves
to pound against the rocks
and warn off the flocks
of birds battling survival
               are the birds always so reckless?

everything holds danger
to bring out the braver-
for the souls who are lost
too afraid of the cost
but the gravity
of depravity
is unbreakable
                but you've said the chains are heavy, not tight...?

then, unbearable
but that's why there is two
so while one holds the weight
the other regenerates
but neither has the strength to move along
and this goes on
                 but there must be a loop in every cycle?

that's the struggle
but why rise up
when the sky is black
and just that
             can't they see the stars?

aye, but those lights
are part of the night
that never reaches daybreak
in the stillness of late
                       then later, they will resurface?

                                                    ­I stare long and hard at her.
                                                    So simple and innocent
                                                    and persistent
                                                    
 ­                                            She's reached the age of twelve
                                             and the universe is her limit
                                             and she dives in with suggestions
                                             to questions
                                             that I have faced
                                             and crushed
                                             while my reasoning
                                             has imprisoned me

Alright, your turn
I can't answer that last one
I'm still sunk under
these waters

Let's see
if you can bring clarity

                                                        ­   Normally, my pessimistic side
                                                           would shoot down positivity
                                                      ­     and I don't believe
                                                         ­  that she could know
                                                           the words to break my cold

Well, my words aren't as big
but I think simplicity
is the path towards
enlightening

                                           ­     ~giggles/chuckles~
                                                ~our eyes meet~
                                                 Reeeaaallllly?

Yeess, but you've got it wrong
right from the kickoff
so I'll have to start
with rocks

Rocks are the bottom
so trees will grow on
and bees feel safe
'cause the trees are strong
and this composite
of opposite
makes it worth
having both

and the spray of the waves
leaves intervals
so the gulls
can find hide-holes
in the cliffs
while awaiting the fish
see? - survival
...of the fishest


                                                      A­s I wait out her cackle-fest  
                                                      I am uncomfortable
                                                   ­   the simplistic
                                                      ­seems realistic
                                                      w­hich means I was only pessimistic...

And certainly the danger
makes people braver
but it can't be so unbreakable
if you think hard
there can't be such a high cost -
if people are braver
'cause then the danger
just isn't as dangerous

and if there are two people in chains
don't they stand side by side?
i'm sure if you do the math
upholding each other
makes each one strong
and the time they withstand
is twice as long

and if struggling
seems hopeless
when you can't see the sun
can't you feel grateful
that night
hides the demons

eyes can see
only angels fly
with wings that shine
in a darkened sky

                                                                ­                  My brain is scattered
                                                       ­                           as my thoughts are rattled
                                                         ­                         because right now
                                                                ­                  my shadows seem so friendly

It's not hard to resurface
if you know this
and I promise
your scars will heal
because time is the boss
and love is the cost -
and the easiest to pay
'cause each day
it regenerates
until it's all okay


                                                          ­                          I smile at her ending
                                                          ­                          maybe simple, but what I wanted
                                                          ­                          and as she traces the scars on my wrists
                                                          ­                          i'm thinking golly goodness
                                                        ­                            I am a vast pit of empty knowledge
                                                       ­                             I wonder how long she's listened to me
                                                              ­                      and how long she's known I's wrong
                                                           ­                         and I ponder what I know from me

Okay, that seems believable
Ah, crap, you can say it
or, I suppose I should...
altogether you were, completely, entirely, 100% thoroughly and perfectly right
and I
quite...
wasn't

sigh
                                       ­              ~lays head in my hands~


sigh
I'm lost

All I know
is rocks and trees
and trees and rocks
and bees
                                          ~ she giggles~    ~grabs my hand~
There's one more thing
*It's me
I tried to combine poetry and story while keeping both very obviously, so I hope you like it :)
Also, this is between an older brother and his little sister, I pictured him around 16.
1.1k · Mar 2014
Coo, Dear Mother
Emily Pidduck Mar 2014
Coo,
silent dove resting
Your babies been crying
Though lying in the fox's jaws,
Coo
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.
1.0k · Jan 2014
Portentous
Emily Pidduck Jan 2014
Haunting and longing
entangle my arms
limbs stretching so far
but they don't even match my height

We might reach for stars
but you
you could obtain cosmos


It's wrong, too strenuous
Maybe I can
Moreover do i want to?
No. no no no

I'm gasping
Simple is what I dream about

Haa   Hah

I love my dreams
perhaps because they are unobtainable
and no matter how often
You can, you will!
I can/andwill not

But tonight these sheets are too bright
I see them gleam in my darkness
It crawls beneath me

"Look at me! Your blank canvas!
      -    paint the world."

I let darkness devour me.
This is my apocalypse of shadows.

She could have been so much more
what drove her to madness
nobody comes back from an unbalance
such as hers: pitch and shimmer


This is my dream
I've settled in satisfaction
and I adore it all
I cannot recall a time I felt more alive.

Haa    Hah   Hah

...I cannot recall daylight

hmm? what importance does...

Shhhhh, whisper my shadows
*come deeper.
- because sometimes encouragement turns into pressure, and backfires
1.0k · Dec 2013
I Make My Own
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
I see flashbacks, in my sunken cheeks.
I know how it began - I drowned in five, bottomless addictions.
The first one was a man.

Entranced within his holding gaze,
I strove to please his whims
But it echoed loud, deep inside
You're not good enough
Never good enough
You must be drowning him

So I searched, and found
my deepest flaw,
the first that I must change.
I grew hollow and raw,
and I rattled of pills
the only way to keep me thin.
But he has friends. Many more than you.
They find you dreary and unsociable
Try harder, you act pathetic.
You need to be more lovable.

I went to crashers, and to think,
I'd lick up drinks, for all the laughter.
I was ****, and wild..and they called me ****.
but I had many more admirers.
I thought I was close, so near to worth,
to stand beside his side.
But still I held too tightly,
to that spiteful word virginity.

So I threw it far.
It was so far gone, I barely remember what I did.
There were walls and halls
and bathroom stalls.
Mirrors and paint
and viewers.
And of all that we tried, I hated most that I shared you.
And that happened twice, and turned to thrice, and I knew.
I was still missing what you needed.
But I can't bother him some more.
And so, I bled instead, to self-assure
I still had more, to give.

I made certain, I wouldn't embarrass you in terms of ***.
I cut my arms, and not my thighs.
So I could still drop skirts.
And it worked, I satisfied,
you found me more alluring.
With shirt on top,
nothing below
you claimed 'this *****'
made me glow.
Oh, I was tossed, to and fro.
And my five held me in chains.
At night, my eyes would weep
I didn't recognize my pain.

Then just one time,
I wondered why.
Why did your descending lips
look like fangs and broken dreams?

And all the rage between the seams
pounded my head, I doubled bent.
Before me eyes, parading round
I saw the five, their cold, dead lies,
I gaped and sobbed, collapsed and lobbed
words of hate and eureka.

These were my drugs
I'd made my own
I hid myself, as each part died.
And I buried them inside.

Finally, only whispers.

You can't be good enough now.

Was that love?

Did you love yourself?

                ~~~


Months passed, and only one whisper left.





*Live.                That's good enough
This is roughly worded. Still, I wanted everything to be clear, this happens.
988 · Dec 2013
old, old man
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
sweet, sweet boy
i've seen you a-sittin' there
waiting for that older girl
with those bright eyes
and kind smile.

now southern boy
dont you drop a penny
cause she's a rich girl with class
and yer not gettin' her chastity
and yer not takin' her money
cause yer a proud son of an ***

and broken boy
why you still not takin' no bandages?
cause yer stubbornness is breakin' er
when yer the one who's bleedin'
oh, i can see it all repeatin'

what you dont know is she loves you
and yer in love too
but all this time you been thinking its sympathy
got this idea that you mean nothing to nobody
boy it's hurtin' er
it's hurtin me

cause baby boy
i see you as my own
im a-thinkin' you need to take a stand
she might be a stunner
only one who don take you as a sinner
but youve been forgettin'
that though shes a fine woman
y'always been a real good man

angel boy
seen you cryin' tears
shes paradin' round
with a polished fella'
but why you aint been askin' her
"whens the weddin'"
when you think its comin'
honey, no girl in love
shows up at some lib'ary
when theres a man who orders sherry
im a-sure you feel
but you don see it
and sure as nothin' do you believe it

waitin', waitin' boy
how long you gon be sittin' there
that girl gave you time
but you didnt use it
and now im crying'
cause son
i can tell theres still love
but shes been taken
and now yer a drunk

lost, lost boy
im a-beggin' here
find trust
cause i know its not her fault
and she thinks it was
and now we both afraid
cause you not even tryin' a-hide it
but yer becomin' yer father
and he was filled with hate

hes a gone, gone boy
im a sinner with a prayer
that her husband dies
an he drops the liquor
and they both survive


but, hes an old, old man
read with a drawl, the only example I can think is from "the help"
965 · Sep 2014
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
896 · Jan 2015
My love is my own.
Emily Pidduck Jan 2015
My love is my own
desperate
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
because
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
879 · Mar 2014
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
875 · Dec 2013
Going for Perfection
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
Be you! The real, original you. In fact, we detest the fake you radiate.
We don't want perfection
Did we stutter?

And then I think of myself. No, I've no scars.
I mean, it's not really possible.
My confidence is out the roof, heck I'm good at most any sport.
And dear goodness, am I smart.
I am just too tough to crack, I am proud of all the jealousy
I am fulfilled; compared to me, you're weak.
I grow taller with her wistful stares.

Though your resentment doesn't crack me.
I sure get angry for your reasoning.
Because with out any sort of listening
you've done outcasted me. But why should I need scars?
Aren't my weaknesses enough?

And as I think of myself, I laugh. A loud enormous goose holler.

Seems I've become a bully. The kind of girl who looks down upon your intellect. I knew the answer - I knew yours was wrong, and it didn't take long before you were inferior.
Remember, I'm confident.
Because I'm at home, and I wonder, and I find my answers.
I find them for that one time, I blurted right out from my mind, the little detail - I was pleased to know, but I turned around and they'd grown cold.
Now I'm perfect, and it must be worth it, even in exhaustion.
Better be the loud one, who voices the corrections.
Better than the dumb son who never learns his lessons.

Certainly, I'm desirable: fit, thin and strong.
But the girl he wants has a larger chest
than the one he calls his own.
And I could claim as mine
any of the Brains
We could connect through intellect, but what's to happen when
I'm running hard, dropping sweat, and he can't comprehend why I'd raise my pulse to feel the heat
when none of my workouts compete with the videos found through internet.

But the thing that really breaks me is the hatred
of my confidence.
I couldn't possibly understand them.
That is the belief.
So I sit alone, set in stone - practically emotionless
and the eyes that penetrate me detest that I don't shiver
But it's hard to make a movement when my walls have grown so tall
It's my reply to all
the voices.

I've no other choices.

I'll be the "fake" one that you label
Throw me in the gutter.
The real me wants perfection.

*Did you hear me freaking stutter?
I don't like this one much, but I flip between stone-cold and broken, and walking on top of the world, so I though I'd try and write it out.
857 · Mar 2015
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
...decades
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
854 · Sep 2015
Ex-Sweetheart
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



Dear,
            former lover

I did never love you
Tis why the pain's so soft
It was never much a cost
818 · Aug 2014
Fading
Emily Pidduck Aug 2014
and though he kept shining
our love was fading fast
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
his calls seem weak
as they fall upon my deaf ears
and echo in the valley

words seem cheap
'cause he whispers he loves me
but i wanted his heart
beating in my hands

my breath feels wasted
as i'm struggling
and your eyes are hurting
when I say your embrace
is the chokehold

i teeter on a cliff's edge
just to feel tears on my neck
it's like the blood
i wanted from your heart

the DNA so similar to hers
as a reminder
you can't feel love at a distance

even if it's there

i'm lost in this insanity
to comfort me

brother, can you really love me?

when i'll never be me?

not until she returns
and i can feel her pulse
in the valley

where the angels take souls
755 · Nov 2013
The Hole of Demons
Emily Pidduck Nov 2013
Hush, my darling
watch
wait
Slip one foot over the edge.
Find that one weak spot and press
letting the cracks scream and spit and hiss.
Until nothing remains but a dark abyss
that's calling, begging you to fall.

Hear an ocean raging, seething, foaming
at the mouth. Wanting to lick up any piece of you,
to serenade you, promising desires before the curl.
The curl that pulls you into a peaceful lull just ahead of the
crunch
that collapses your breath and pushes
rivers into your lungs.

See an illusion.
A tropical paradise beckoning.
Beauty from a distance with devouring teeth.
Not whole, swallowed, painful, but brief. Rather,
slowly - one ache at a time.
An ant sting, small, but trickling poison
into a stream that pumps through your ankle. Then a bubbling,
ghastly surface that won't release the throbbing. Still more.
Silence precedes
the serpent's trike.
Taking with, all dilemmas in one torturous
Moment. Wrongly counted as a blessing. Unbearable,
but better than the old pain, for awhile.
And more than pain is the hopeless knowledge: there's no boat
to sail you back.

Feel the blistering desert heat.
Lips that crack and bleed, releasing a sweet juice
into your unquenchable throat. Sweat that drips
driving you nuts from knowing
that water is wasted...

Know.

Know the burning seas that are nothing more
than your mind
discovering the darkest side.
And nothing less.

Cry for all the lights you can't turn to. Can't bring to life
because they'll break you.
Let that hole open so wide that there's no mistaking it
but for the darkness is possesses.
Then pull that foot back and stand
on solid ground.
You've seen, heard and felt your demons.

You've waited
and watched,
You're
Safe, my darling.
751 · Apr 2014
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.
738 · Jan 2014
Nowhere Boy
Emily Pidduck Jan 2014
He wasn't particularly special,
certainly not tough to follow
but I only knew his nickname
and they called him "Nowhere Boy"

I knew too much about him
in the form of knowing little
and I quite considered all of it
humdrum scuttlebutt

Some I knew was feeble
such as: this boy did not have dreams
simply for the reason that
he never voiced imaginings

This oddity spread as wildfire
and the cacophony collaborated
to grant a title fitting; the beginning
of that Nowhere Boy

All thought it preposterous
that he'd never had an outing,
none with friends, none to see the world
in place of content, they termed him wilting

Minus
concrete evidence
of lacking 'travellers feet'
they crossed out home
as a place to greet
and saw it fit
that he was Nowhere Boy

Unknown was the range,
the contours of his mind
There was no knowledge
of his intelligence
He was not outstanding,
but he never struggled
He was not beauty
nor unsightly

People'd add these up
and regard the bar -
that would conclude
he wasn't going far
hence his name
his claim to fame:
as that
Nowhere Boy

His kindness never reached helpful
His respect was only for elders
In return, peers made a description
that showed his lack of initiative

He was known as
Nowhere Boy
in that
He had gone nowhere yet
because it's worth believing, regardless of what you've seen so far
729 · Dec 2013
Thoughts of a Fearful Kind
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
It scares me when someone says
It's always darkest before the dawn
Then isn't it also
Brightest before the night

Also the phrase
That mightn't measure up:
It gets better
What if better isn't good enough?

I lose willpower with the cry
"You can do it!"
Over half of the time
You most definitely cannot

Dear goodness, I don't like the phrase
Kick back and relax
It sounds as if someone has gone somewhere
While all I recall is successfully breathing

And it pains me to hear
Everybody starts as a beginner
How come I'm the black sheep
Who stays on beginner level

I dislike the word sure-fire
Perhaps it means you will succeed
But I lean more towards
Certainly-burning in a pit of flames

Oh, I detest when people give the advice
One step at a time
That's very limiting
If I follow those words

I also don't care for the motto
Take a leap of faith
It's not the greatest go-to
When there's a monster waiting to catch you

To top it all, a Lion King song frightens the bejeebers out of me
"Can you feel the love tonight. It is where we are."
If there is no We can I feel it?
And I know it's sung between lovers, but what if it's me and a stranger?

Ah, Macbeth, has told us
"To be or not to be? That is the question."
Too many souls ponder this
It should not be a question- just be

**** it all, I can't handle to think
Love is blind
If that happens to be true
I'm sure I'll send love where it's not needed

And worst of all I hate the lie we tell:
I can't survive without you
Then how on earth were we living in the past?
And perhaps then, the big question to be:
Can I go back?
715 · Jul 2014
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
ghastly
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
704 · Feb 2014
In the silence
Emily Pidduck Feb 2014
Your thoughts circle round my head,instead of the words heard,there's an
incredible song that soothes as I tread the waves of my mind
I'm in kind with my dreams,seems that streams of comfort nestle
me safe from dread at the thought that I ought
to've brought you with me
but lately,
the safety of your arms,when i can't hear you speak doesn't wreak
as much havoc as before,cause the core,you're being
I've been seeing in my thoughts,my seams-you've broken in between,
because in the lack of noise, your voice, rings out, o're the others
and before they infect,you're yelling
in the silence:
I'm here to protect.
703 · Mar 2014
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.
688 · Dec 2013
Not Quite
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
Well not quite

I can say to anything
But there are still dreams
And sealed hope

Broken wings
Are only clipped
But...
They seem beautiful
As if they are holding onto the magic -
Mystery children know first,
And adults thirst for
At four
When the days isn't done
Or about to come

The moon is stuck in between
Holding the spell for freedom

Our wings struggle
Because we want more
Only,

Not quite sure
What that is yet
I struggled so hard to write this, and I hope it works, but it's supposed to be readable both forwards and backwards  the normal reading is supposed to be thoughtful, and the backwards on the side of hopeless
644 · Mar 2015
Assurance
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
643 · Feb 2014
My State of Panic
Emily Pidduck Feb 2014
Wind, weather, and gain
Closure, vision, pain
Blood, intrusion, rain

All of them

Collect to connect
for intersecting
that leads to dissecting
of those thought provoking situations
that wind up choking
their creations

And God! I can't stand it


    So let me expand
Let you understand

We have been gifted with elements
and our elemental understanding is that the basics are not good
not enough
not for us

Not when we have pried open vaults that are not our own -
to follow a nightmare
illusioned as a dream with wings

but we loosened the seams
and now we sing
of a broken thing; the noise
doesn't quite drown the screams

   And we're losing
On this planet

! And the broken, they were born
In view of world still torn, forlorn
They've met scorn
as intrusive bodies situate themselves in a momentum
that doesn't require their skills
And the monster roams free
as the people cry "help"
in this place of mine
because they see

The response is a little too late.
We let the quiet soothe
And don't have to choose
When the rain chains their fate
and washes away
the entire State




I've been told: "You're gifts and talents are enough"
But it's never enough
and tear drops will roll

I'm begging for love to brush this soul
and sometimes I wonder who's in control

*And I panic
He's the only thing that can truly calm me, and sometimes it scares me just how far we've broken, but I know there's also the strength to fix it.
636 · Sep 2014
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
thought
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
seething

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 :/
634 · Dec 2013
Invisible Original
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
I heard them. Your words.

And you are broken, moody, lonely, damaged, disturbed -freaky. That’s what the wind whistles. Abandoned you sit there, barely speaking. So I believe

But belief is shaky now because of this wickedly wonderful source. Internet.
But shhhhh…

NOT

ONE
WORD

without ©

Maybe you, friendless(trustworthy) you - have a secret. A terrible TERRIBLE… it came from Internet-san. And so even your uttered words so new and sweet
A rare delicacy

are all lies because you weren’t smart to begin with and I should of known you’ve more faults and are a Liar.
I just want to shout “I’m not a fool!” ©
Because now I’m embarrassed. For believing you when you whispered “I can’t take it anymore. Not anymore. Please stop sobbing please"
Actually you begged…
                                      but you’re a liar

So I won’t lend any credit because you
are not
the Invisible Original
Too often people ignore their instincts that others are in trouble because they are exaggerating, a classic drama queen, so I just want to remind people that if they are feeling their words than they are their own. It makes no difference if someone else felt it first.
631 · Jul 2014
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
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