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

*****

Whispering chants
and waving fingers
conjuring spirits
of all that lingers
Raising the ghouls
to see the future
Disembodied figures swell
in ghastly caricature
A promise is whispered
The living is lead
to a single untruth
told by the dead

It's not the fact that
everytime I open Hello Poetry
I have to open a new tab
on my computer screen
to a dictionary
No Sirree

It's not the fact that
I come back to read them
Six, Seven, infinity times
and always wonder
Could that be me?
They are sooo easy
(of course it's me)

It's not the fact that
He makes me think thoughts
that should have been sleeping
throughout my whole human phase
bringing up ideas that are better left
when we are prepared to retire
to the stars, I think he's part Mage

It's not his witticism, completely admired
It's not his heroism, completely tried
It's not his ability to not be able to deflect
It's his ability to be able to unashamedly connect

But no one will ever hate you for that... if there is anyone here who can't understand the same, don't hate the player, hate the game

Broken dreams and cast stones
I've bared the burden
now simply rather collect dust.

In every line I breath as in life I simply decay
its all a blast till you see it for what it never was to begin with

Fallen stars and dim lit thoughts cast a jaded view over the night
And it's always a dream just before the nightmare takes hold

When the nightmare begins, I like to technicolor dream
I see the abyss for the small ditch it could be
I see a puddle of tears that won't become a river
never would I cry so incessantly, weep then move on

We can't erase the scars that choke on a dark night
we cant fight the hands that want to hold us down
broken dreams are signs we are ready for the fight
*and every line is the only thing we can own

"If you had a gun, I'd ask you to shoot me right now"

If I had a gun, I'd put it to my own head
Just so I could never hear those words again

I'll never forget laying at the foot of your bed
As you spoke about dying or the things that you said
Halfway through your contemplation of your life
You fell asleep and I was left laying like you stabbed me with a knife

But I laid there, at the foot of your bed
waiting for you to repeat everything
you said, I laid there in dread

Then you woke and continued
like you had never spoke
and asked once again
"Do you have a gun?"*

No, I don't have a gun
I can't pull the trigger
on all of your nightmares
but somewhere, out there
you've hallucinated
all of reality, it seems
you were unable to leave
until I aimed the barrel
between the eyes
of all your dreams

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

for Sally A Bayan

Once upon a time, a lovely young woman met a young man beside a pond. They both stood feeding the ducks absently, not really looking at each other. The young woman, in her eagerness to feel what she was feeding, stretched out her fingers to stroke the feathers of the nearest duck but it was further away than what she anticipated, and she fell into the pond. The young man reacted by casually removing his shoes and socks, rolling his pants legs and gingerly stepping his way into the pond to hold out his fingertips to grasp flaying hands and bring the young woman back to the grassy edge. Embarrassingly, she sputtered her thanks and asked if there was anything she could do for him, *anything she said....
He asked if she could clean his pond stained clothes, she replied...
No, but if you don't mind the stains, they now match mine.
He looked away and muttered a goodbye.
The man on the other side of the pond watching her but couldn't get to her in time, whispered...
I would have thrown myself head first under you just so you remained without a stain, alas, I was too far away.
As he rounded the pond, and stood next to her, she repeated the same mistake and fell head first into the water, wanting to feel the softness of the duck but, this time, she added no new stains to her dress because two strong arms grabbed her as she fell a breath whispered in her ear...
*Don't stain your pretty dress again trying to find softness, it's holding you, right here...

I don't have many of them
most are far from me
but I have this one friend
who means everything to me
This friend is not just a friend
but also a confidante
this friend knows my weaknesses
and also knows my heart
This friend is a piece of me
that feels like it is missing
the peace of me, my conscience
that is always insisting
you can do it, just believe
spirit be with you
If I could replay, a thousand fold
my friends wishes,
however true, I'd play them back
to them, because their wishes
should come true

There was no one before
who cared or
who would mind...

Until a hand
curled inside mine
and a little voice said
"I'm here, with you, for you"
and inside my head
flowers bloomed
and storms abated
Death was less
than it had been fated

a little voice whispered
"Don't doubt yourself..."
without the cover of darkness
I was less likely to be myself

The hand that held mine
was as soft as warm light
in a grip so tight
no one had ever cared to hold my hand
before the one that held it just right

glass
    is sharp
        when
         broken

tongue
    is sharp
        with
         harsh

words spoken

cut
     like glass

lash
     like steel

deaf ears
blind eyes

don't care
    how
           you
                  feel

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?

Verily, the moon is bright
Merrily, I rejoice the sight
Scarily, I will re-form
Hairily, I am reborn

I wanted to write about
all of the emotions
that sit inside
my un beating chest
but perhaps I'll sit still
and ponder the demotion
of the feeling they have left

Because we don't always get
what we're asking for
and even if we are left
looking for more

We wander beside
a wordsmith
begging for his left overs
even though we don't know
exactly why we crave it

I'll just ask this?
What are we writing for?

See, because we like to fight
and the words don't
come out right
It leaves one of us
laying, on the floor

those upon the floor
see the cracks
we'd like to pour
our angst
into the ground
We're the ones
that miss all the fun
whilst laying down

So, hopefully you'll remember this
sitting on the bed,
even with your legs spread
I wasn't standing in between
your text message
to your next squeeze

I'm just going to be
mistakes you can't erase
*so easily

"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

Nobody cared about the little boy
with death in his eyes
with a collection of animal bones
buried deep inside a chest

Nobody cared about the little girl
with lily white thighs
with memories hidden in teeth marks
on her underdeveloped *******

Nobody cared about the young man
that wore ivory little squares as a bracelet
Not even blinking
when he said I made it

Nobody cared about the young lady
or her necklace made of chain
She wears in stoic silence
when staked outside, in the rain

Nobody cared about the man
who met a woman on a tether
Nobody cared about either of them
Until they got together

They shared an unholy lust
to pay back an uninterested society
To make sure all sins of the past
were paid back in sobriety

Talk was cheap without a cause
Nobody cared about them

Never

In sharing common indifferences
they made sure to repeat

mistakes that weren't theirs

*ever

Playing strip poker
for money
Being naked and busted
is just NOT funny

A moonlight stroll
when your ready for bed
For those that don't wear pj's
Enough said

Playing Musical Chairs
using only stools
is for people with equilibrium
but funny as Hell for drunken fools

DIY Home Salon
Hair Coloring
Purple with Orange Highlights
clash with pretty much everything

Frying a meal
when your ready to retire
Again, sans pj's
your literally playing with fire

Body Waxing
ANYWHERE
especially
... down there ;-)

This will not be a flowery prose
Wrapped in an imaginary love heart
This will be my new beginning
Writing this will be a start

This is not a love story
That people love to hate
There is just the start and then the end
In between does not even rate

This is not where I will beg
With flowery words of love forgotten
This is where I’ll say to you
To me, all we had now smells rotten

This will never be a love sonnet
Whispered through the sands of time
But to me, as I remember all to be
It will remind me of you, you slime!

This is not a love poem
No longer even a love song
The bitterness of my tears
Have dragged on far too long

This is not the happy ending
I dreamed of to be true, so
This is where you kiss my ***
While assuming I’ll pine for you

wanting to see it all
from top to bottom
sitting in the stands
smelling something rotten
leaving a nasty taste in my mouth
a moue of disappointment
under appreciating surroundings
feeling a loss of entitlement
wanted to taste it all
wanted to speak its language
wanted to experience it's thrall
felt nothing except banished
saw nothing but heartache
saw nothing but fear and pain
felt nothing in my exile
wings beating hard, here I remain

I wrote a poem for you, it cried
I painted a picture but it lied
I made a movie of still images
complete with the music I bled
Still, it left so many things unsaid
It wasn't enough for you
It wasn't enough for me
The path unspoken, forever broken
is so easy, in blindness, to see
Another day, someone's heartbeat
washes up silently upon the shore
beached upon an unforgiving earth
they think of Life no more
Each battle scar carved upon flesh
in a moment of Self Flagellation
is an answer to a deeper question
beyond our own imagination
I see you curled upon the floor
I bleed for you, I've been there before
You feel like its not worth it
This Life you have been given
But before you cut it down
Why don't you try living?

sigh*

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mybittersweetpoetry/310830505705043?sk=timeline

Your work may be there too :( I hope not, it's so soul destroying)

From the above Facebook Page

Sincere Apologies posted August 22 belongs to Brittney Anne
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/825832/sincere-apologies/

Loving  You of Loving Me posted August 15 belongs to Teema
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/586571/loving-you-or-loving-me/


Her Mothers Perfume Resembles Her Anger posted August 14 belongs to Abbey Cole http://hellopoetry.com/poem/811713/my-mothers-perfume/

and there are more from here...

Just Ask A Good Woman She Knows Pain Beyond Limits posted August 11 belongs to Jeffrey Conyer http://hellopoetry.com/poem/389501/just-ask-a-good-woman/

and I could go on and on but it seems everything they have posted and claimed for their own comes from this site...

Just had to file a DMCA takedown with Facebook because this person removed all my comments but not my poem!!!

All their work is stolen from here so make sure you go and have a look to make sure your work is not there!!!

I ******* HATE these parasitic people!!!!

It seems colder this time...

I mean, sure, I still have a warm body
to lay next to but I'm still chilled
Of course, the fire that burns
hasn't been tended upon
Nobody to cut the wood
No body, no body to cradle
Snowflakes like crystal tears
drop gently from my fears
little tiny rivers of dread
icy rivlets creating endless years
to be skated inside my head

So cold have I become
as I lay me down to sleep
you were once upon a time
the body that once sought mine
now just an empty husk
where I get to warm my feet

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

colour me Pink
blushes of Rose
I think
the colour Blue
looks nasty on you
and Green clashes
with your eyes
and just makes you look
Feral
Red bleeds from nails
that like to imbed
while they score
tracks down your back
but um
I'm not Sheryl...
So please refrain
from another's name
while so deep inside me
you can't hide from me
and I won't need to find
another reason why
you are a stranger
preying on anger
Share the blame
and I'll be glad
to change
my name...

Tick tock, Tick tock, Tock Tock ticking
Clocks cluck, catching curious cries
Several seconds slide, slowly sticking
Eclectic evil ever eager to eat out eyes

Tock tock, tick tick Tock
danger dances down, depicting doom
Hands hold hearts heavily in hock
aren't all able to articulately assume?

Clock is currently counting costs
justifying jumps and juggling jacks
tabulating time that is tossed
lightening liberal lust and loving lax

tick tick tick, tick tick tick
destination is a detonation despised
tock tock tock, tock tock tock*
sheep sleep soundly shrouded, so surprised

she shall stand upon the sand

and bravely meet the wave

upon a shore of lonliness

bowing unto a new day

she shall feel the gentle kiss

of lapping water upon her skin

kissing spray of a repeat greeting

that continues to ask her to stay

she will sit upon the shore

to gather unto her side

repeating visits from

a retreating lover

that comes and goes

with the tide

I’ve turned the other cheek
To endure the slap in the face
I’ve been there and done that
Some things time can not erase
Walk a mile in my shoes
Ha! You would never endure
Maybe stop to smell the roses
But nothing will remain pure
This old dog knows new tricks
So throw me a freakin’ bone
Jesus came? Good for him!
But I still walk alone
I’ll take off my rose colored glasses
Before my drinks are mixed
I don't think that I am broken
Why should I bother to be fixed
I have licked my wounds
I can now live and let live
But what makes me forget
Is why I should forgive
I’ve paid my dues
I’ve made the bed
I now lay upon
I have now come
To the end of the line
But I think this
Is my swan song
I’ll bury my head in the sand
Ignorance is such bliss
You can give with one hand
And take with the other

*But You Can’t Touch This!

'tis the season
to be holy
'tis the season
to be jolly
'tis the season
to have fun
'tis the season
to be done
'tis the season
to feel stress
'tis the season
of such duress
'tis the season
of such renown
'tis the season
to seek ground
'tis the season
for the ultimate test
'tis the season
to seek final rest

As my frontal lobe articulates
from the anterior, just under
my forehead, I understand
why sweat beaded upon my
upper lip and my eyes bled

Spilling words onto a sheet
of paper, ink stains shaped
like a swarm of angry bees.
Crisping like raisins too long
in the sun, angling on a hook
that captures May like a
golden sunset dying on a breeze

Messages in Cherry Red reflecting
on the mirror to be read back after
an intoxicating night. Never would
the words remain in the steam of
a quiet shower that washes away
remnants of sorrow or a quaking
knowledge that what the lipstick
says just might happen to be right

A table set for twenty six as only
one will attend to partake of seven
courses of molasses and fake hope
Pacing up and down, rearranging
the letters in a potion of epic…ness
that can only come from plucking
consonants from a burning lava,
scraping the bottom of the barrel
for a vowel in the Alphagetti soup

There is the napkin I blew my nose
into which only had a phone number
on it. It turned into 8 reasons why
I would never bother to call
And there is the corner of my duvet
that I dribbled on but the pattern
resembled all my shattered dreams
that poured out of my mouth while
sleeping and became my greatest fall

Here is the ultrasound that has a few
words that sum up what the world
means to me and a picture of our daughter
This is the 15 scraps of paper that you
wrote 15 different lines of love to me
and they are all in the box, being loved
just as everything else ought to.

There are books and printouts and bits
of cardboard and a piece of driftwood
that I used to scratch a few words in
with a rock along with the photo of
the words written inside a heart on a
beach that was one thousand kilometers
away from you but I was there and
you were not.

There is 3.4 gig on a computer and
a gazillion that are frothing inside a
compartment that is internalized and labeled
Someday To Be Said. No matter where or
how or why or now or latter on paper or
engraved in rock on a elaborately carved stone
or chasing their own tails in their own head
Folded like a paper plane and launched
into a rabid universe words will land where
they will, dressed as they are, happy the party
is still in full swing. They don’t wonder
if the landing is soft, they fall, and then
they become still.

**Happy Landing

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

Dearest Tommy
I think of you every night
I lay awake listening to the thunder
and the lightening, and the rain
on the old tin roof
(which is leaking again by the way)
but during the day
I can't hear it, I'm so busy staying sane
Just want you to know, even though
it's only been 2 months I'm thinking
of you, again

My Heart, Melissa
I'm thinking of you out in the desert
there are 50 million stars
and several stray bullet tracers
but they can never mar the beauty
of the night sky, from where I lie
thinking of you and maybe...
our babe? Don't leave my hanging
sweetheart, give me a hint
to make my darkest day

I LOVE U!

Dear Tommy
The mailman came again today
with no news from you, I can't pretend
that it didn't light a fuse beneath my temper
but I understand you are busy and it is September
Autumn months where life lies fallow
I'm not trying to be shallow
I'm just trying to plug up the leaks
there is no babe, I'm sorry (I'm not)
but it's cold and life is bleak
without you

Darling Melissa
I'm hearing you cry out to me
I'm getting your letters but you're
not seeing me? How can that be?
I want you to know that each grain
of sand that I pour out of my boots at night
I count as minutes spent away from you
and I'm seeing you beyond sight
when I close my eyes under stars
that don't shine for you in your universe
and I'm sorry for that
but under each shining light, I pretend
that your looking up at the same star
and you are whispering what we rehearsed...
No matter where you are, you are my star.
Remember?

Love your Tommy

Dear Tom
The leak was fixed last week by Steven Treadle
remember him from High School
He played football for a little while
and then he decided college football wasn't for him
so he decided on a trade and now he's a roofer
He wanted to be a soldier but his injury prevented him
He's doing well, here in Suburbia...

and with me...
I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry
but he's here for me...
I'm so sorry
but Tommy

I Loved you
and the idea of you and me
but Tommy
I need someone by me...

Sorry

the last response Melissa received
was not a letter
from Tommy
but an Official
Sorry*
from the Military
but it was never
as sorry
as Melissa felt
that Tommy
may have
(or may have not)
received her last
Sorry
or the Hell
it may have spelt

I like the picture of you
all silk skin and lean muscle
but not everywhere
giggles
I just stop to stare
Completely mesmerised
I like to practice kissy faces
into the mirror of your eyes
I like how the milk from
your breakfast cereal
runs down your chin
I want to chase it
with my tongue
I like how the honey
that drips from your pancakes
reminds me of *** and sin

I like how we have
the same routine
Wake up, make up
Shower together
my hand prints
shoulder high on the screen

I like to do yoga poses
to the moves you make
as you ride your girlfriend
but, make no mistake
I have a headshot of me
with a bit of blu tac on back
that I can move around the screen
whenever she's in the scene
and...
I'm liking how you ride me!
It's like Yoga nirvana!
you'll never find the cameras...

I Love you and bananas!

time zones and timelines
endless times on wifi
phone lines and emails
plotting packages
through snail mail
sharing lives in tidbits
being comfortable with habit
chasing smiles, producing laughs
sharing tears inside silence
knowing without having to ask
messages and photos
jokes and remarks
making sure the night time
is not swallowed by the dark
saying good morning or
saying good night
is such a blessing
knowing tomorrow is coming
in a message

In the mist of early morning
when Sun is nigh and night
creatures are yawning, when
an early morning meal is
sought, one small creature
is caught

said the Fly
oh come, yea spinner
of unearthly thread
the weaver of mysteries
floating in my head
that trap me in silken
sheets upon thy bed
come now Spider
do you truly
wish me dead?

said the Spider
nay I do not wish
for you to struggle so
and break the bonds of
my simple weave, I just
wish to make acquaintance
with such a fine and free soul
Tell me what your flighty
life is like and then I'll let
you leave

said the Fly
over upon yonder apple tree
is a world of beauty, and bees,
more exotic than me, lovers of
honey and colorful, stripped
like tigers but with wings
who collect riches with their knees

Spider gasps...

and past yonder fence where
you anchor your web are incredible
birds that sing night songs inside
their gilded cage while their plumage
dulls considerably with age...
So sad they are trapped,
like me

Spider is steadily untangling
the threads of the silken trap
that has cradled the hapless fly
Spider can't stand to cage
so free a spirit that has seen
the depths of the sky, and the ocean
and possibly even the ground
which she knows she'll never see
With a promise from the Fly
they will come back with more tales
of the world beyond her web
she once again goes hungry

Fly never came back
Spider died hungry
when Bird perceived
she was weakened prey