The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls

You're my favorite pastime
You're the flavor of all my years
You're the beat that starts my heart
You're the salt that tints my tears

You're the red haze of my anger
and the white mist as it clears
You're the new leaf on my tree
and the root of all my fears

You're my every kiss goodnight
You're my sunrise in the morning
You're my thought throughout the day
You're my moon as the night is dawning

You're my cup of coffee
you're my drink of wine
You're my shot of whiskey
You're my everything that is fine

You are so perfect in my head
so perfect in my heart
so perfect in the beginning
even more perfect at the last

You're my best friend, my lover
my partner and my all
You're the foundation of all of me
Without you I may fall

You're the one who taught me
that one plus one equals us
though the equation is now minus
I trust to go on, I must...

She may have closed the door
but you nailed it shut
You refused to hear her weeping
while you sat upon your ****
Your back against the door
Where you occasionally bang your head
Needles hanging from your veins
Demons not waiting for you
To. Be. Dead.
She sat upon the other side
listening through the door
her good eye against the keyhole
until she heard you breathe no more
Along an empty hall of dust
that ends in a pit of flames
that carries centuries of souls
to their everlasting shame
She sat upon that dirt floor
thinking she was the one to blame
if only you had turned the ****
or just whispered her name...

The Trek

How far is too far to walk?
To journey into the abyss?
How far should you go, to drop memories into a pit?
How far did you walk today?
How many breaths did you steal?
How many ropes did you bind, around fragile wrists
in hopes they struggle so you can feel?

What's the road like to Hell?

Standing by, about 10pm
a stranger stood next to me
asked me, from sideways lips
"Did you ever expect this is where we would meet?"
"Nope" I said to the stranger by my side
"I expected no one to come along"
Not interested in a conversation
uncaring where others belong
"Do you think there may be a reason?"
the stranger asks with a sigh
"Nope, not even interested"
as the trains arrival caught my eye
"Oh there's a purpose for my being here"
the stranger tenses muscles that flex and pulse
The train drew near and out of fear
I begged the stranger to get lost
"Leave me alone, I'm going home"
and prepare to depart for the train
that had not quite arrived at the station
no stranger would I permit me to detain
A stranger on a platform held out his hand
and stopped me from stepping onto the tracks
His last words to me as I sprawled on the platform...
"Some actions performed can never be taken back"

one day

it was decided

we should end

one day

was all it took

to say goodbye

to my only friend

one day

I hope we see

beyond the pain

the laughter

and the capers

one day

I hope

you pause

to reflect

and want to sign

the divorce papers

one day

We don't always get what we want
we very rarely get what we deserve
most often time, we stand in line
turning a corner to find a curve
Standing alone, at the end of the line
We fail to see beyond the bend
We shuffle along in our own blindness
until the light deblinds us, and then,
We see where we are headed
instantly taking a thousand steps back
except we must accept and find we're on
an express elevator to the beyond
and it's an expressly* one way track

that's right!

I was in the middle
of a poppy field
and several butterflies
asked me a million questions
and every answer ended with
I don't know
every four seasons
ended with snow
every little brush of wings
made my heart sing
and the years flow
Each season between Winter
moved beneath my ribs
so slow
Each little insect that alighted
on my pale, perfect skin
I slighted!
I slapped in outrage,
committing an unforgivable sin
Perfect little creatures
with perfectly small frames
perfectly fine bones
that never knew shame
Perfect little feet
that sat gently on my frame
I slapped them all down
one by one
thinking they should take the blame

hmm, where was I?

thats right*

I was perpetually drifting
in my own shame

What if God was there
as you lay inside your cardboard box
What if God was there
as you drowned in your Whiskey on rocks
What if God was there
when you laid your child down
six feet under the ground
What if God was there
but never made a sound
What if God was there
when you shot a foreign stranger in the chest
What if God was there
playing the weakest against the next best
What if God was there
when your car left the road
What if God was there
and did nothing, although
he. would. have. known
What if God cured World Hunger
Stopped Wars and abolished Cancer
What If God stopped Greed and Avarice
and just gave the world a coherent answer?
What if God is just someone
to hold on to throughout the bad times
What if God just doesn't really care
and you are simply responsible
for your own crimes?

The end of the world,
it just exploded!

With a smattering of light brimstone and fire and a gentle, heavenly rain.  It just started, while I stood in the kitchen, sipping tea, trying to remember my shopping list and wondering if I should even bother, to get ready for work, could I just fake it and gain another day where I could wallow? I weighted my earning ability against what a simple day, for me, would be able to gain.
It was just another day...
One that started the same as every other one, but proceeded to bleed, only to leave a stain…
Oh great, (my first thought)
just another laundry duty for me…

But I digress…

Oh yes, that’s right, I’m drinking my tea, my daughter in front of me… she starts talking, her lips are moving but her words are dissolving my existence that surrounds me...

Where was I?

Yes, there was a big explosion, the world rocked and I’m ambivalent as the earth cracks beneath me and all I can see is a world that has been shaken to its core.
My kitchen fades away… (where the hell is my cup of tea????)

I’m in the middle of the street, the people that I meet are screaming because they also felt it. That explosion that rocked their world that opened the cracks in the earth to release the fire and brimstone. Ugh, the smell of sulpher! I briefly wondered if I would ever get the smell out of our pretty, outdated, papered walls?

Again, I digress…

I’m floating above the cracks watching as humankind drops to their knees, begging their chosen Deity to save them as the fires of Hell wrap tendrils of Regret around the ankles of those that have been Chosen while a really bright light lifts those from their knees, to ascend to Nirvana, I guess they are the ones who prayed really hard… Bully for them! I guess the others should not have weaved when they should have woven!
Not me though!

I’m still floating, in between, as the world ruptures I’m still just hanging, caught between up above and down below. I don’t know if it is because, it is so obvious, Heaven will never let me in and Hell has already said Not just No… but… HELL NO!

But I digress…

What I’m completely fascinated by is that at the End of the World I’m wholly focused on the boy that is fair of hair and fair of face and appears to be full of Grace and while I thought he would ascend, he is grabbed by a lick of fire from Hell.
I’m completely fascinated, that such a nice boy, would be chosen to descend below (I honestly would have pegged him for Heaven) but I can only **** my head, and pretend I don’t see...
Honestly… what do I know?

I’m watching the World fall apart!

Explosions, fire and brimstone, completely lost souls trying to crawl into grace, it all happened to me, while drinking my tea, while my daughter stood talking to me…

What is she saying?

I’m back to standing in my kitchen, cup of tea in my hand and I actually hear the words that my daughter is saying to me and it all goes back to where it began…

So Mum, there is this boy….

Oh God! There it is…

And there is another explosion… again!

Dec 1, 2010

This is not so much a poem. This is more a revealing of a high that comes from taking the liars down. This is not about reposting ones own work under multiple accounts (I don't understand it and I don't get it but you can't steal from yourself...) This is a story of being able to show ones true character by pointing out that what they write, how they bask in the muted sunlight of another's ignorance to their thievery, just leaves them looking pale!*

You see me as a troublemaker
storming your made up works
just trying to influence your friends
that your not that kind of girl
You see me as an interloper
just jealous of your success
Little Darlin' I don't care for you
except for exposing your lying cheating ***
Stop garnering your self esteem
upon backs that are already broke
Stop making people believe
you suffered what you supposedly wrote
Honestly! If you are impressed
and feel heart whole, then simply,
Say thank you, I feel what you wrote
I feel you wrote it for me

Just don't steal their words
and let everyone think
You're a master poet/ess
All you need to do
is
link...

If you find yourself just drifting
the anchor you seek is at your door
It's the one who stands holding it open
as you lay dying upon the floor
If you seek answers to the questions
that keep you wondering instead
Seek the one who offered their chest
for a place to lay down your head
If you find your mental telepathy
clouded by a million different voices
The one that speaks without moving lips
Is the one you need to rejoice in
For their communication is spoken
from eyes that have stripped a soul bare
and their touch remains unbroken
fingertips upon skin is not solitaire
Note to Self, not a whole
not just a half, not even a tiny part
Broken into a million pieces
A small part of another Heart

So quick to flare
A struggle to hold
A battle to contain
Monumental to behold
With just the spark
Of a single word
To a raging inferno
It burns, undeterred
The tinder of hurt
Feeds the hungry flame
It burns out of control
With no sense of shame
It shrieks with a fury
Of unspoken pain
It flays at the flesh
With little disdain
The black pit it leaves
Once burnt its course
Leaves a deep well
For the tears of remorse
To pool in the dark
Then in a lightening flash
The emotion of Anger
Is turned to ash

20/04/2010

I didn’t live long
Or so it seemed
I laughed, I cried
I hoped, I dreamed
At Kensington Palace
I had tea with the Queen
And over in Scotland
Nessie and I made a scene
I flew over wild plains
On my way to Timbuktu
I took on Niagara Falls
In a canoe
I played with the bulls
In my time in Spain
And while in Africa
I saw the rain
In San Francisco
I roller bladed the slopes
To the Golden Gate Bridge
Where I swung on the ropes
I built a snowman
That was Himalayan
I slept under the stars
Amongst ruins that were Mayan
In New York to the lovely lady
I sent a smile and a wink
In Rome at the Vatican
It made me think
That while in Ireland
Oh the beauty I found
I never really felt
My feet touch the ground
I never left my hometown
Or so it seems
But I did live it all
In my dreams

05/03/2010

all I can do is read it in my email
as the Poem of the Day
I can't appreciate your backstory
because, I'd say,
That one day you had a meltdown
and banished me
to the nether realms
where I languish as just a name
on your banned list
never to be revisited
but that's okay
don't feel bad that others
might appreciate your history
because we live it
at your misery.

you don't fool all!

you might hide behind
a glass of mesquite
but most people (beings)
read beneath your depth

that may be as shallow as a puddle

but don't we all muddle
through the rain?
and see our feet get wet?

However!?

There are roads that most won't
purposely walk at night
because on such desolate paths
things are wont to cause fright

However

Our Gonzo sits in the middle
of the path
a drink in one hand
and in the other?
Part of an old soul escaped
just looking for the other half
telling jokes about himself
that make others laugh
and he sips their happiness
from a half empty glass

Gonzo is just a paperweight
that sits heavily on a boney frame
John Patrick Robbins is an amazing writer, flesh and blood
A lover, a fighter
that leaves little rays of sunshine
on the path to Insane

sometime, last night, I wrapped the sheet that was trapped between our heat, around my slender hips, across my bared chest and I tiptoed across the floor, to the door, that took me down the quiet hall and into the kitchen, where memories of our last fight sat congealing on the bench and on the floor, in between the broken wine bottle and the knife standing on its tip, embedded in the breadboard.
Last night, my love burned to ashes on a pyre of self loathing and bitter sweet regrets as I undressed and laid myself before you like dessert, even though the meal was less fine, and you whispered over and over you're mine and each heartbeat, last night, was for you, each whimper borne from pain, from shame, without a name, last night, it was all for you...
Last night you broke me, last night you spoke to me in ways that will always remain my terror, where you are the demon, ever ruling forever, my secret domain.
Last night, as I ghosted through the door, wrapped in our sweat stained sheet, a whisper beneath my feet and my soul dragging behind me like a long lost sheep...
I entered the kitchen and ignored
the evidence of our last hope and reached out a steady hand toward the breadboard.

This morning, I am a brand new woman

Who cares
What path was taken?
What words were spoken?
What hearts were broken?
Who cares
What lies were told?
What truths were bold?
What beliefs were shaken?
Who cares
What road was chosen?
What mode of transport?
Or even what prize was sort?
We all end up in the same place
with the same certainty
and even the same face.
We all arrive at different times,
we go down with no sound,
into a ground,
so recently
*broken

after stabbing you repeatedly
I tossed you out into my front yard
along side all the rest of the other
lying cheating *******!

*Won best decorated house for Halloween...

Stupid words!
They claw
at my insides
They completely
fog my brain
Stupid words!
they spill my secrets
when, inside
they should have
remained
Stupid words!
they have no thought
besides becoming
known
Stupid words!
that clog my throat
inside an empty world,
they are sown
Stupid words!
I hate you!
Even as I leave them
drip dying in the breeze
Stupid words!
I love you!
Even though
No one
Believes

I have very little time for me
5.30am I wake, so I can read
6am I'm waking school children
6.30am I'm making lunches
and waking them again
7am I'm ready and waking them again
in between, I try to read...
3pm, after work, I've picked them up,
home again, I have no luck
I'm reading homework, doing washing,
cooking dinner while they sit watching
asking questions, demanding my time
showing me answers, I can't say Nien!
at the time they are ready for quiet
I'm deep into my own bottle of Claret!
I've exhausted topics from
Logistics to get to the Fete,
and simple dress changes
that relate, if acceptable for camp?
and can my girlfriend stay
just for a night?
Mum! Look at me dance?
Have I got it tight?
I'm tapping away trying express
my own thought
then comes a little voice
that breaks down my fort...
And I realise,
I can't tap out a rhyme
the could ever compete
to the little dancing feet
that demands my attention
no less than your poem
but rest assured
as you have written it
I've read it, I just thought
*you should know

I'm not really who I pretend to be
I'm not really angry at other people
I'm more angry at me.
It's just easier to reflect on them
as they are defenceless,
though it seems senseless
for them to be the object of my ire
while they sit patiently, waiting
to be object of my desire
It's simply easier for me to paint them
in water colours
that drip upon a canvas
that can't absorb it
than it is to mar the canvas of my life
with Oils, that appear more solid.

So many times, she had fallen down
as each blow sent her to the ground
She swallowed the blood from her lips
while mentally tallying her chips

As each verbal knife serrated her heart
she managed to save just a small part
and tucked it away beneath her soul
knowing it was needed to make her whole

She kissed lips that poisoned her mind
digging fingernails into hips not so kind
Alternating between Heaven and Hell
the music changed, and she could tell

By the slow cadance of a sultry beat
and the true meaning of passions heat
she took steps that were just a chance
She finally learnt she knew how to dance

Your work has been found posted here...

https://www.blogger.com/profile/01778541517020475886

Go through them carefully as titles have been changed but poems have been posted verbatim with no link to the original.

sigh

LOL.... no more than half an hour later, the blog is closed to me... not sure if he blocked me after I commented or just closed the whole thing... ****** parasite!