Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jan 2016 Helen
Wordforged Fool
I'm screaming silently
I'm crying for help inaudibly
I shout but nothing can be heard
Listen close, not a syllable, much less a word
I'm screaming silently
For someone to end my misery
An existence inside of my head
I may as well be as good as dead
I need to be saved, to be heard
But I scream and shout with a smile, not a word
Helen Jan 2016
So I stumbled upon HP one day,
not really, I fell face first
with a glass of wine in my hand
giggling like a school girl
except that uniform hadn't fit in
30 years so it was kinda more like
a 50 year old stripper pretending
she can actually still giggle without crying.
I made a few friends, well, I say friends but we were all ******
working the same lame dead corner

Of course, some of us went on to marry well and some just felt they
could no longer worship a vengeful
God and probably stuck a knitting
needle in their eye, or something.
I'm not going to name names here!

Let's just say one went onto fame,
self publishing was cool way before
YOU ever thought of it and another
just yanked the chain around their neck so hard you never even heard
their spine crack and then one dear
friend got ganked by their own self importance.

Trust me *******!!! THAT is a loaded gun.

But this is all Ancient History to the
those that were born during the
I Love Myself with Hate or
I Cut Myself with Love era.
I'm talking about friendships
that fossilise over time
creating deeper bonds than
I love you, no, I love you, no I love you times

So, watching all those that couldn't hack the pace of the streets died
one by one.
Marriage, Suicide, Shot in the Foot
until the brain bleed out,
they all fell like over bloated flies
gorging on the rancid meat left lying around.
A few survived the sickness by purging,
You know, when you stick your fingers down your throat and expel the garbage from within except,
that kind of concept can be deadly
when you have blood red ****** nails...
The remaining 'Oh Heavenly Father, why do you forsake me' ones
retreated to the HP Elysium Fields, passing on their wisdom to a baby kind that will never care about anything but their own grandiose style of taking a dump in the wilds of cyberspace.

So ****** days sadly came to an end at the fork in the road,
yes peeps, pun intended
until one day, I met a guy that ran me over,
literally hit me with a car and left me
a ****** mess, stood over me and said
"How much ***** and you better deduct dollars for the dent in my front fender"
As I chewed on my blood red ****** nails and spat teeth into the street
I offered him a hand and he said
I'll take that and your mouth and
let's see what you can do with
that heartbeat
We drove to the Motel Dive
and I asked him if he knew where all the other hookers had gone from the same lame corner where we all carved our own slices of heaven and he threw me down to the ground and ripped off his shirt.
Upon his flesh was carved each of those names that I had once kicked up heels with, ****** around and laid under the street lamp with,
watching all the little preppies in their pretend Oldsmobiles cruise by without a single worry on their shoulders except for the boulder sized chips and
their own inadequacies riding shotgun on their lips.
The one HP friend that threw me to the ground and carved my name upon their flesh is also the one who resurrected me.
But I think he may have killed all the other ones but, they were dead before they knew it!
But hey!
Hell is where all your friends are right?
taught me everything I know (and a lot I didn't) would gladly follow my friend into the fire.
Helen Jan 2016
In storms
she is your anchor
In blindness
she is your sight
In sadness
she is your laughter
In darkness
she is your light
In weakness
she is your strength
In nightmares
she is your dream
In kindness
she is your weakness
At night time
she hears your screams
In low times
she is the mountain
In dry times
she is the stream
At all times
she is the rock
Never pretending to be
anything else
than what she appears
to be
Helen Jan 2016
imagine if you
were supa glue
to someone's
broken past
Helen Jan 2016
"they" say it's easier
to rip off the bandaid quickly
presumably because the pain
is so fleeting
but is it okay by "they"
if I scream my hurt
drawing out every syllable
loudly, complete with raging
spittle and seething emotions
throwing buried truths
into a stunned face
that can't wake up
or shape up, or shake off
shackles of an insanely lost
predisposed personality
Is it okay with "they"
to hurl obscenities
to those that have been defeated
in their own mind
"they" say to rip off the bandaid
quickly
but I've found, by doing that
the wound bleeds more profusely
and it's harder to heal
for the bandaid,
"they" reviled
was the only ******* thing
holding
the deepest cut together
It's not okay to lose your **** at someone who has lost grasp on reality... It's really not okay, not like "they" say. You really can't just rip a bandaid off a hemorraging person :(
Helen Jan 2016
Neem mijn hand
wieg mijn hart
Geef me leven
Laten wij niet deel
Als wij vallen
Terwijl verdeeld
Wij mogen nooit
worden herenigd

Take my hand
Cradle my heart
Give me life
Do not let us part
If we fall
while divided
we may never
be reunited
5th January 2011 ~ a Facebook Memory
Helen Dec 2015
As sure as I am that I'd need several paragraphs to dance across the page it simply occurs to me that I'm not only a single player upon the stage but one of many that dance within this troupe and if I had to say something I'd have to step outside the group and pronounce soliloquy except that's not what this is about because I'm not the star upon this stage and I've never really studied the page but in this single sentence I've bought about a truly remarkable find insofar as I find it's easy to write a single sentence and make it work almost as easily as Miley Cyrus can twerk except it's December you see and at the end of the ignorance and loneliness it's just me.
Next page