I feel it in my heart
I think it in my mind
I hear it every day
It's immortal in its time

I wear it on my sleeve
I hold it in my hand
I utter it repeatedly
every second that I can

I always think of you
the feelings overwhelming
It always reminds me of you
the incantation can be telling

just a little four letter word
that can, with any luck
completely describe my feelings

*****

You don't stand your ground!
Your feet never touch the earth
while you stand on the backs
of a thousand weeping girls
All thinking they were your first
All thinking they are your only
Never understanding your praise
was to your never ending, lonely
selfish, egotistical one handed being
eyes on the numbers, but never seeing.

So maniacal of Ego Deploration
your head is larger than any nation
A small country where you get lost
your glass house crumbling
beneath the frost of your Winter.

Every time you open your mouth
your absolute pretentiousness
finds a golden frame in truth
causing your ******* wall to splinter.

When repeating from an unknown source, it is still respectful to say
"These aren't my words"
of course, just borrowed thoughts

Come unto to us
as you promised
yet you hide

Step up, be a Man
your absence
is damaged pride

Bring forth your rapture
Shower the Earth
in Heavenly Rain

Or else step back
and return to Myth
in disdain

Don't preach to me
in fairy tales
drowning in contradictions

Come unto us

I Wish to God

to be free
of this affliction

Knock knock knock

There is no precedence
for a knock on the door
she’s busy cleaning
while staring at the floor

Knock knock knock*

It’s the insistence of the knock
that has her trembling
and she’s ready to give up
until she starts remembering

There is no one who would
knock upon the door
Her little army of Seven
would never leave her trembling
there is only one
who would want to settle the score

She peers beyond the curtain
and sees fruit
She is hungry, and just a little angry
her army of Seven
are mighty
but they are miners
and she needs to eat
and the apple merchant
is elderly
with a smile
there is no fear
of a brute

Her mouth waters
for a taste of fruit

She opens the door
and reaches forward
murmuring
“Just one taste”

The merchant is eager
to hand over the apple
cackling
“That is all it takes”

"But first and foremost
be warned...
A prince may, or may not
come
Bite the apple
you are the one to decide
Sate your hunger now
or wait!
Eat, or don’t eat
Let your decision be
your demise"

Snow White is hungry
and angry
that the little men
don’t provide
and she’ll bite the apple
holding onto the hope
that her decision
is the one
that will provoke her prince
to ride
to her side

But it was otherwise known
that her prince was thus occupied
by a ***** *****
and he didn’t feel the rip
in the fabric of time

Snow White collapses
clutching the apple
in her hand
representing all her hopes
and dreams
the years trickle away
like sand

It’s apparent that all
that she had left
to watch over her
was a small figure
that if she could see
would make her run
more than a mile
But for the apple
clutched in her fist

Poor old Grumpy
might crack a smile

Drink in hand, and a perfect face
An empty glass is just a disgrace
Conversation is simply asinine
Like a vulture sipping on wine
Just waiting to begin the feast
But the beast is slow in dying
Ignoring the soul that's crying
Talking to the hand, instead of the fist
Never would the words flow like this
We'll always have this at least
No cease to the lesson learned
That emotions are not earned
They're drunk from the deepest well
Spilling into a levy, where they dwell
Mayhap the chatter will surcease
Silence is achieved in rotating worlds
In a universe of unspoken words
When realistically all that will matter
Is this dizzying, inane chatter
*Where only syllables will decrease

I check my followers every day
and when the clock turns back
it makes my heart sink

because it's not that I think
that I've been unfollowed
I certainly don't think that
no, as my clock ticks backwards it's
because who I follow also declines
by each tock, according to the stats

So yeah,
every time I lose a follower
my heart shrivels inside my chest
because another person I admire
has laid down their pen to rest

How many of you here counted
your last moment?
How many of you wondered if
your last breath breathed would be
the moment you would own it?

How many of you published words
as if it would be the last you write?
How many here read those words?
Hugging them long into the night?

How many of you tried to say
exactly what you feel, but failed?
How many times did you edited it
every single word, every line?
Just to post it so it was unveiled?

How many times did you refresh
the words that you have lied?
How many times have you typed
every tear that you have cried?

How many times did you say
I love you in a thousand letters
As many times as it takes you
to make the world seem better

Your poetry is as important
as the balm upon a soul
Your words caught upon a page
*are a literal bomb

don't you ever try to peg me
into your narrow little view
I'll change shapes, so as not to fit
and lay back, just to watch you
scream and shout,
foam at the mouth,
let expletives fly
just to leave me lie
discarded,
unworthy of a place
an unwanted puzzle piece
manufactured to take up space

don't you ever try to label me
I'm not a 99 cent basement bargain
my million dollar price tag got lost
inside your uninteresting jargon

don't you try to pin me
as a monument to your prowess
this butterfly has learnt how to lie
becoming a dragonfly under duress

don't you ever try to change me
I'm resistant to heat and *******
I'm resistant to your loquaciousness
a never ending river of it

don't you ever pigeonhole
the gregarious of my effervescence
nor tunnel upon my vision
because when you understand it
we'll both just be stuck
*inside the same prison

Should I just walk away
or should I just pretend
that others will know the way
and I'll make it to the end
If. I. Follow. Them
Am I just a sheep
or representive of the people
do I bleet with power
or am I just a sheeple?
That minority that herds forward
seeking single blades of grass
to munch on arbitorial
swallowing questions not asked

How. Come. It. Cuts. Like. Glass?

am I misrepresented
by the shame of not being focused
missing the road to everlasting
Salvation

my ticket says I'm on a one way trip

to *Hell and Damnation

He:* What's happening to us?
We're dying!

She placed her hand
upon his chest and said,

We're not dying!
We are already dead,
it's just our hearts
that won't stop trying

I'm going to let you
be me
because I don't want
to be

repeat yourself over and over
wield words as your weapon
repeat it as many times you need
until you drown beneath
your own perception

Tell the boy you fell in love with that you don't appreciate his lust, tell the girl your dreaming of that she's the only one you think of

Shout out to the universe
that you're unimpressed
Scream in the face of the world
that you deserve only the best

Get into the face of the *****,
or the *******,
that hurt you the most
and insist you are worth
the air you breathe, make sure
*you're extremely verbose

in the moment you realise
that crazy glue is useless
staring at the shattered shards
wondering out loud
whats going to fix this?

somehow, I don't think crazy glue
can put this **** back together
I'm think maybe it needs silicone
or a big arsed concrete cement mixer

looking at the pieces that spread
like a big mess that makes no sense
I shake my head at the crazy glue
in my hand and whisper
*you're just not up to this task my friend

Yesterday my sister visited me
and remarked on the dozen
blood red roses in a vase and said
how lucky I was to have someone to bring me flowers
I didn't dare tell her they were an apology, I didn't dare tell her they represented the blood I bleed,
I didn't dare tell her she could have them because if he came home and saw them missing...
He'd know someone came to visit
and the tones of the tune would be bass deep and in the end only I would weep to a song that would never end
and the roses would die inside the vase
while I quietly hid my face
Then the daisies would arrive
and once again my sister would visit
only to see fresh flowers in a vase
and sigh in heartfelt delight
but she'll never know, that the flowers
that continue to show up in the vase
represent my fear of the coming night.

Picture the clown
with his silly frown
upside down

Picture the big cat
that docilely sat
as you gave it a pat

Picture the main ring
where the bearded lady will sing
the unicorns, risen at dawn
will trail a rainbow on a string

Picture the strongman
holding a child's hand
when everybody just ran

Picture the journey
that involved you and me
Picture the empty seat

Now picture the chaos
the emptiness of loss
all the glamour and gloss

Picture the heartbreak and joy
see the little boy, with the toy?
It's the one thing he don't allow
others to destroy

Picture waking at dawn
understanding in a yawn
nothing will be different this morn

Picture this, the colours are wild
life is more difficult to adhere
Picture the difficulty of this postcard
*Wish you were here

we've come a long way
from the days when we
passed notes between mates
secretly pretending
the words on the page
meant nothing
hiding them in pockets
to take them home
to smooth them against
the bed, reading every word
again and again and again
we've come a long way
from leaving little pieces
of paper, parts of our soul
on pillows and in bedside draws
from scribbled messages
on bathroom mirrors
written in lipstick the colour of
Siren Red and Bleeding Crimson
breaking out of our prison
we've come a long way
to being able to say
how much we mean
how hard it is to say the words
how easy it is to shove letters
into verse and choke
it's a long way from face to face
conversations that evoke imagery
from our distant dreams
it seems we've come a long way
with *Poetry

Hey! How are ya?

Yeah...
see those pretty pictures on the front of the card?
I've not really been there!
I've never really left my front yard
I've not pictured Winter
I've never been cold
I may have once been abused
and the story never got told
Buf it was a long time ago
and so the journeys ending

Pictures on a Postcard
can be so telling

Here I go again my friends
on a journey fraught with fear
I promise to send
a postcard now and then
with a picture
and a scribbled
*Wish you were here

as you rise, the East
awakes at dawn, my night time
spawns new horizons

I sit in darkness, soaked in Gin, I remember everything,
except all the things Tequila forgot,
I remember nothing except for the things left to rot

I forgot the darkest nights
most certainly in days light
I forgot you placed the drink in my hand,
is that how we ended up here last night?

A half empty glass we have mired our delusion dear
Do the stories just get better or do we simply fill in the blanks?
Trace our old lines again and again.
Weathered are my eyes behind a mask
It’s no place to breath but anything beats the grave.

As we recall the sunset from the shore it seems so far now
it is but a fraction of the truest sense and the most cursed fools delusion
a switchblades sting and you will remain my favorite scar?

Delusions are illusions with which we fool ourselves
with a magician’s eye and a sense of skill.
Sunsets upon a distant shore are our memories
retreating against our will.

The switchblades knife is rusty and it's only hope is to scar.
Do you revere or revile me?
The empty bottles that lay between us ask for little.
I ask us for more!

Will I be your scar, the one you rub when you’re alone?
Tracing lines that cut so deep but set rigid, like stone?

Perhaps the open wound you created
when you picked apart our past won't heal as quickly,
and like the final drink we had together won't be our last.

Painted is the portrait so far from the truths we all choose to ignore
and now I simply understand are regrets than the echoes of a shared view.

When we break the heart do we find solace in a statue like existence?
We all spill the glass sometimes and a candles view dim will only reflect the shadows we've become.

Tomorrows a dream and the nightmares become a friend far more than this dance
I care no longer to stand and the ice won’t bare the weight of this ego's crash.

Let's skate the ice so thin it cracks beneath the weigh of pain.
Let's dance the tango of wilted dreams and find no shame.
Let the broken heart of shattered glass
be a reminder of our pain
but you and I, we share a common lust
we mix silently, oil and water
blending in the same frame

For from the page to the far corners of this empty floor we have made our choices
Now we understand past regrets in silent reframe

Never doubt the passion for the lack of fire it simmers a volcano underneath the illusion of emptiness and so we find are paths twisted yet always brought back to the same point.

We always speak in shadows what is known in light of day.

Our paths are gritty dirt, pretty split and intertwined
broken cobblestoned nights and sun baked days to which we can’t deny
Shadows that come to play hide the demons
we would once talk to, but threw away
when we attempted to revive a life we weren't meant for
Our answers don't lay at the bottom of the bottle
nor do they rest behind the closed door,
They itch beneath our fractured skin and spill their secrets on the floor
dripping from serrated cuts that pump a life full of ****** memories
the broken bottle stands as sentinel asking always for
One More...
Please?

Maybe we found our muse in a mutual insanity.
Laid bare the vein I question what lingers when nothing remains beneath?

This last round stands only for the night my dear for its clutches are but a moments embrace and an overcast view.
Tomorrow I can never promise what fate hands us by surprise.

Insanity is a fickle Muse
that's sips from a collapsed vein
breaking bottles against skulls
looking for an idiot to blame

Personally I think our Muse
is a Mistress that flogs well in the dark
Chaining our souls to our demons
never shining light on our demise,
Demanding we whip ourselves hoarse
prying opens the oysters
of our murky world spilling pearls of stone into a world so stark

No, the Muse of you and I is an unruly *****.
She chokes our memories and forces our pain
with a flick of her wrist

because it may be sure that...

Never argue with an idiot. They will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience.
~ George Carlin

and as true as that may be
they underestimate, greatly
that intelligence is a weapon
that will surely defeat them

and while they drag you down
remember, they are beneath your feet
planted firmly upon their crown
ensures you can step up
and the pit they dug for themselves
is where they have to sleep

Always argue with an idiot
for if they drag you down
you can crawl back from their vitriol
and look down upon them
from higher ground

I stepped left when I should have stepped right.
It was a dance that ended my life.

I think I would not like to be
a single tree on a barren prairie
for you see I'd be a rarity
eager to be culled by all that see

I think I would not like to be
a mermaid drifting out at sea
for you see even though I'm me
I'm an oddity not allowed to be free

I know I would never want to
be just a possession you have got to
Own!
Where is my voice?

I know I would never want to
be an oddity you have just got to
Possess!
Where is my choice?

pulled into the grocery store
turned around and locked the door
started walking the other way
went ten blocks down the steet
simply just following my feet
memories in my mind on replay

got up this morning, made the bed
felt the vessel in my head
Snap! and I started to sway

took over an hour to simply dress
even the mirror screamed at the mess
flipped the image as I do each day

found myself standing in a soup kitchen
everybody lined up, just *******'
shrug my shoulders, had something to eat

locked the house, started the car
I knew I couldn't drive so far
the grocery store was where I was beat

So ten blocks down from my abandoned car
I don't know if I've come too far
to make sure I'm no longer a burden

The ticking time bomb in my brain
finally activated making me insane
Hope I was far enough away to stop myself from hurting them.

Crashing Down

Crashing down
and the world has lost
another pilot

Crashing down
seems there's no way
to deny it

Crashing down
shredded wings become
a liability

Crashing down
blazing glory is
its legacy

Crashed and burned
charred beyond repair
a small piece of resistance
barely enough to care

Crashing down
the concrete layers
become so thin

Crashing down
amazed that players
can't admit their sin

Crashing down
amid flames that burn
oh so bright

Crashing down
knowing death already
claims the night

Crashed and burned
charred beyond repair
a small piece of resistance
barely enough to care

Crashing down
was the only way
to have survived

Crashing down
means flying high enough
to have tried

Crashed and burned
charred beyond repair
a small piece of resistance
barely enough to care

I won't forget the day we met
when you bring me dandelions
His words to me as we held hands
set upon me as I'm crying
I don't remember the exact moment
except a gal bought flowers to her man
dandelions from a distant field
meant you were at least trying, and I understand

then he slept for a while

On a summers afternoon
when we went for soda
you took hold of my hand
when we passed her
and you whispered to me
that you and her were over...

He sighed and said

I remember, it was the day
you showed up, dandelions
clutched in hand
Instantly my soul fell
into your embrace
but I understand...

and he slept for a while

she came back another time
four times, six, ten, a lifetime
forever just to remind him
without him she was nothing

Remember our babies born
raised with the essence of you
Remember how we made them
she blushed
Lucidity, for her, made the memory true

He lay with a beating heart
a blank slate, and a woman
who held his hand
He stared at unfamiliar walls
struggling to understand
how realities became memories
how the beautiful woman
touching his face
could make him feel so blue
as he reaches for a bouquet of
dandelions
that weren't even there, he asks
Who are you?

No one told me
I could not breathe
without you
No one told me
you could turn
so blue
Nobody told me
I could be robbed
is this the strangled whisper
so fondly spoken of
No one has ever uttered
about how you
could be held
Almost every living person
rejoiced daily
as you expelled
You can't be held
by the hand
only kisses on skin
is a ghostly touch
You can't be captured
except by an open mouth
sharing a passion
and loving rough
I almost had you once
I breathed you in
with Love
except
as elusive as you are
you ghosted in
and out of me
and left me breathless
to the last

You penned a soliloquy
yet I heard my own voice
You spoke of your own hardship
yet you gave me no choice
You talked about your pain
yet I writhe in agony
You penned a soliloquy
yet you said nothing worthy

You spoke of nothing but yourself
you spoke only of your pain
You spoke of a singular truth
you forgot to mention my heart slain

What?
You couldn't write a sonnet?
14 artful lines are not that long
You couldn't Acrostic this?
I HURT SOMEONE

No!

You write a soliloquy
Where your discourse is so obtuse!
Even in the form of Poetry
you deny me

*Is it the truth?

I only tugged upon your silken curls
to remind you I was here
Intruding upon your salacious thoughts
your growling response
is nothing I fear
There is no singular thought
the plural is obtainable
Come! Let me melt upon you
Let the elusive mutuality
be equably available
I want you to be one with me
en mass and piled high
Like the stars of the universe
tripping over each other,
to lay down upon the sky
Like a song with a central verse
weaving choruses into forever
that single tug upon silken curls
is a reminder we are in this together

Your loss is unique, to you... but just like everyone else, the pain of loss is pain. I've felt it, I've grieved uniquely over the years, I've felt it from both sides, suddenly I don't have my only brother anymore (car accident) suddenly I don't have my cousin (who was my other brother) anymore (he lit himself on fire, literally and died 7 agonisingly days later in hospital) I don't have my Dad anymore, watching him slowly die from Cancer... I laid at the end of his bed in the last week talking to him, he'd fall asleep in mid sentence then wake up asking why I was crying and then ask if I had a gun would I shoot him... Death ******* ***** for those that have to keep on living. For those of us that think we should have gone first because it would be easier for the ones who died first to cope... ******* *******... Those that would be left behind would grieve just as hard for us as we do them and we dishonour their strength by falling apart completely. There is no concrete end date to this life. We can only live with, love and cherish those who choose to spend time with us, if it's their time to 'shuffle off this mortal coil' without us then it's up to us to ensure their memory is golden, not **** the world off with anger they are no longer here but to gift the world with their memory. You are here, they are not, you can't bring them back but you can make sure they are not forgot.

Washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning
The work is never done!
Lunching, shopping, relaxing, reading
I’ve heard is much more fun.

Sweeping, mopping, dusting, shining
Who thinks up all these gigs?
But what I really want to know right now
Is who left open the barn door to let in the pigs?

Mowing, weeding, trimming, seeding
Are mans work, but I’m all on my own
I gave birth to a virtual army
But housework is their No Go Zone!

Yelling, screaming, crying, keening
Achieves naught but my puffy face
I’ve given up such futile exercises
That puts no one in their place.

I hear “Can you help me please”
They hear “Blah Blah Blah”
Maybe I need to learn sign language
One gesture can go so far!

To this end I have ultimately decided
And I really do think this is for the best
To sit right down with drink in hand and
Let the little piggies wallow in their own mess!

24/07/2010

the note would fall out of a book
published for her one true love
rarely ever opened,
hardly ever looked at
by the one she writes of....

the note was quite verbose
and spoken in the first verse

I never loved anyone last
You were forever my first.
So here shall sit this broken letter
trying to explain a tapestry past,
crazy stitched upon cheap fabric
bleeding upon the broken glass
that litters our yesteryear
which I continually crawl upon,
every word whispered on my body
beats a rhythm of our song.
Soul deep and penetrating
bleeding notes that lull like crack
and when the sweet torture
splits your veins apart,
there is nothing you'd take back.
So grant me this peace in misery,
read the words of the book
where you find the note
because I wonder how long
it would take you to find it,
I feel it should have been
the first place you looked

He never found the note
because he left the book closed.
Yet he continues to cut her
a single rose, from the bush
she planted years ago,
because he thinks
it will bring her back
If he'd only opened the book
he'd know that,
*She really said Good-bye

Just so you know, this is really long.... like reallllyyy long :)
Found this while going through some old word docs on my computer. I took my HP Words Used in order and made them into a poem....

Just like day  
life will know  
that time will  
make eyes  
at a heart  
Love will depart
night has left  
Gone away  
You want to  
face a world  
inside words  
I think  
in the end  
head is sorry  
to say  
the hand really  
tried little  
to look pretty  
beneath a soul  
Body is not right  
skin is brittle  
breath is long  
thought is lost  
in a cold way  
touch will lay  
in the light home  
lips cause pain  
he's callous  
in his hold  
Try to be open  
perfect is gone  
I wanted, hated trying  
to still feet at the bed  
Sure, you asked  
with a smile and hope  
going beyond
all things death  
dark voice  
tears live inside
a red place  
darkness makes things
small  
sitting doesn't  
mean walk  
My wish is just waiting  
for a kiss to hide  
easy dreams feel  
it’s been years  
since my friend  
became my man  
I got tired of lying  
You came to the floor  
rain was happy to sit  
but it took to the ground  
and hell has hands that
held sleep longer  
than it took to fall  
a song, perchance?  
We pretend to dance  
for hours before the door  
will be ready to close  
The start of the old sun days  
standing gentle, saw hurt  
today, in the mirrored glass  
she's ready to tell  
the blood moon  
mind the lie  
thinking on a broken  sigh  
Even if the door  
looked broken  
it wasn't  
I won't waste minutes  
to stand outside  
I matter enough  
to leave
on a high  
looking free  
Beyond a black moment  
set in stone  
is the dream from long ago  
indeed, all it will need  
is a girl to slowly remember  
the past  
Leaves that are dead  
are hard to beat  
I knew, I felt  
at the table  
I was naked  
but with a good morning  
talk was easy to stay  
I rest on yesterday  
and wonder turned  
and makes me question
If goodbye takes reason  
I hear it does  
Soft hate in arms  
that blind the eye  
drink from the earth  
for fear comes  
to make me forget  
I sleep beneath a sky  
deep in coming memories  
the word of the new  
silky hair and sharp fingers  
don’t care to fly in the breeze  
far from being beautiful  
it sat boringly  
saying ok  
bring me to the baby  
as tiny antidotes
goes to play  
white in the snow,
Wrong is a thing of beauty  
that would not ask for wings  
Don’t miss the woman  
tomorrow where a line  
is crossed and being afraid  
half I died when dirt  
skidded beneath the car  
understand the bare turn  
are just thoughts and guess  
best is the taste
of a single truth
Die for your god  
the fact can be
different  
It sits I believe  
and is best seen  
on a more secular path  
Sweet entreaties stop  
your simple time in space  
caught softly as you walked  
I whisper to your integrity  
in the middle I remain  
demons  cut   oh  
It’s worth leaving  
without an answer  
Gently emotion  
rounds the corner  
step into my headspace  
it knows , It’s tried  
sad that it died so young  
Street hugs the silence  
silently lies are whispered  
Never a mistake  
been left so hungry  
10w fight against the walls  
I gave eyes to watch  
No question, no touch
Warm people are real  
sound and emotions  
are holding friends true  
begin where the door closed  
an angel on the phone  
choice is not in the looks  
rainbow glitter is spent  
on children at the edge  
of a gaze, their scream  
is big, asking to sing  
angry at snow sheets  
bent listening for escape  
You've wondered  
you couldn't tell  
we've all been listening  
you'll spend seconds  
maybe hot  
wanting forever  
to run from Hell
Room for better hearts
pure agony  
for those that fell  
Able fingertips glow  
heartbeats listen  
and actually loved  
piece of blue mystery*
Precious lullaby of Love  
yes we cry bleeding  
into an ocean of wind  
I was told you stopped  
to stare  
watching all laid bare
while outside roses  
ancient but never picked  
found sin  
in a riot of colour  
You noticed, janet  
what's her name
was a 10  
Lies sense used words
that break bone  
make you wait  
staring accusingly  
but continue needs  
are watched next to the river  
breakfast was bad  
Times lets us all think
everything is fine  
stars burn, decided reality  
is warmth with a mate  
pick one from the universe  
Memory sits beneath a tree  
second to understanding
mist curls in breeze
bright and tight  
the image in the mirror  
walks with eyes closed  
and watches with ears instead  
Crack is bound to break
a road  
captured and cracked  
My dear  
I claim  
I waited  
seven miles away  
Your date with gabriel  
was met with silent curse  
Tonight was fun  
I mouth in anger  
Kisses from the pocket  
breathe laughter  
I just feed apart  
from the burning lonely cry
I heard form short  
of being born  
strong lives taken  
shed simply  
dropped to knees  
trapped in lot  
of empty heat  
Early I ran  
in a body that holds scars  
point at my pants
dry pockets frown  
Quietly over coffee  
summer fed a knife  
with a grace  
that never cared  
if sisters weep  

19/12/2013

She sits upon a single stool
in the middle of the kitchen
Gazing upon congealed food
and hopes she is forgiven
for gazing upon the knife block
wishing every living thing dead
She doesn't have a problem
cleaning up the blood of others
but, what goes on in her head
Is her hatred for violence
Her absolute despise of distrust
Her almost implacable resolve
to make it dead, if she must
She abhors the deadly whispers
that critiques her daily choices
She sits alone upon a stool
trying hard to ignore the voices