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Of cold air

and gloomy clouds

Such darkness on it

It let go the rain

Like the girl I see

Sitting next her paper

Ripping the pages 

out of melancholy

Water streaming

Down her face

Night castling a paradise 

And seeking refuge with dreaming.

I saw the girl

Writing in pain

Howling because of

Anguish

And all her hopes drained


I saw the girl
Staring back at me in the mirror.
 Dec 2013 fisharedrowning
Sue
Music
 Dec 2013 fisharedrowning
Sue
music fills the air with joy
it brings sadness and happiness
note fly high above the clouds
while down below we dance to its enjoyment

although i may not be good at it
i very much enjoy the emotions it brings

it's funny how a song can bring sorrow at one moment
and a joyous trance the next

Music marks special occasions
remember the song that placed when you met "the one"
or maybe the song playing at the dance when you experienced your first kiss

how such a simple thing can do so much
decades people have embraced such a simple but complex thing
what many people take for granted, most can't live without
Light the touch
and lets make ourselves warm

Keep the fire burning
so we can see the path that lies ahead

We stay together
because we need each other

We trust each other
to remain sincerely happy and contented

The frost approaches,
our warmth makes us skip the torture

We go public
because we are not afraid of asunder

The sun and the moon
reminds us
how nature has blessed our Union.

Its You and I
forever
If love were riches,
i would squander it all on you.
 Dec 2013 fisharedrowning
Tabitha
It flows thick at first,
but it runs fast down the hand
crimson fire, a burning sensation,
heating chilled skin

a lost feeling
a drugged up mind
the racing slows as the pain
crawls through the body
everything seems to relax

the voices are hushed
eyes roll into blindness
gushing out of the wrist
sheets are stained red

a razor falls onto the floor
a deep breath taken
a sudden realization
scary thoughts of the future

long sleeves and bracelets
band-aids and makeup
anything to keep the secret safe
to stay out of the asylum

keeping the ridicule and whispers at bay
not letting the rumors spark up
the dark passenger is kept away
until the monster comes back to play
I am standing here,
breathing deep in the cold brittle air.
Trying to find you.

Cobblestone paths,
and old broken roads,
I travel for days,
that quickly turn to years.

I've seen these places before,
but they seem pure and new.
Still searching.
Always searching.

It’s like you're walking on
unbreakable ice,
and I’m underneath you trying to fight through.
The current keeps pulling me,
further.

There you are.
Just above me.

Still searching.
Always searching.

I can see your shadow, your outline.
The cold blurs your face.
Only, I know it’s you.

While we search and wonder
still, the current pulls me further.

For now I’ll just be here under skies and ice,
trying to breathe,
as I wonder below you.

Preparing for the right,
and expecting the average, no less.


Still searching.
Always searching.
Still a little rough on some parts, suggestions for how it can be improved are very welcomed!! :)
Dear Reader,
Run away.
Run as far as you can.

Board up windows.
Burn all your books,
dear reader.

I am poetry.
I will **** you.
You will let me.

Run.
Run far away,
Tear off your rearveiw,
Just go!

Or don't.
It's too late for you anyway.
I'm already eating you
From the inside out,
dear reader.

I'm poetry.
You will starve to death with me
inside of you.
And you'll love it, too.
Reruns of That 70s Show
Interrupted
by the blonde lady
who smiles too much

She says there was a breakthrough
a medical miracle
They brought one back to life

I step outside for a cigarette
already, the town has gone nuts

A group of people
standing outside the grocery store
with signs that say
AbomiNation
and
We Can't Play God

They tell me that it's wrong
to circumvent God's punishment
that only bad can come
from bringing the undead back to life

The sick *****
honestly still think there is a god
and that this hell on Earth is his will
if so, that's no god of mine

They scream at me
trying to tell me what to think
while I buy my milk
and ****
just to make them gasp

This heathen here
really don't care
I'm more concerned with whether or not
Hyde and Jackie are getting back together
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well
House plants are hostages
we take while we rob  
the bank of life for
all the experience notes we
can carry safely away.

We are using the funds
to build our vivarium
homes, microcosms of
the world beyond our walls
where we first glimpsed
the scheme.

The machinery of the world,
greased by blood and sweat,
remains beyond our control
while at large, yet
under our close supervision
we coax submission
out of our captives for
our own enjoyment:

selfish, ambivalently cruel
benefactors, dispensers of
our plants' waters of life.
 Dec 2013 fisharedrowning
mb
The passage is dark and deep
Forever going in the darkest dreams
The rooms all different
All bathed in the half light
As I'm dragged along
Twisting and contorting
To see it all before I'm gone

A room with knives
And one solitary chair
Where I would sit and loving stare
It leads to a room of headless snakes
A twirling kaleidoscope
Of red and green
Tinged in death
Maddening dreams

The room in which
I was locked
The door is stuck
I am weak
There is no
way to escape
these walls
the endless
passages
of haunting halls

Leading down the hall again
Leads us to a room in which
Indian movies music played
The screen danced and flicked
while your body flicked along,
foam crawling out your mouth
eyes rolling back
In this boys dream
a mother screams
And I can do nothing,
yet again
Of youth and age and memories

Another door yet to open
of sickness repression
Of warmth and senses
Smell taste touch
The heat burns of this childish lust
The wolf froths and growls
Its teeth glisten
And I scream
A dream within a dream

We climb up the stairs
as they curve and crack
splinters of this dream
ever more it will seem
never real to me

of a room within a room
the tiniest doors for tiny hands and tiny dreams
I but ever small
The room has shrunken
and I will ever crawl
ever more
too big
to find
that
tiny
door
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