He waited in the alley way
ready for a feast
She walked down the streets alone
not anticipating a beast
He licked his lips, closed his eyes
breathing deeply of his prey
She plodded on, in her ears a song
not caring she never walked this way
He pulled his frame up tight
tightly coiled for the pounce
She continued upon, walking blind
in her step, a little bounce
He waited an eternity in the cold
for just one tasty bite
She hardly ever walked alone
and never ever in the night
He saw her as she broached the alley
recoiling against her dewy scent
She simply kept her eyes down low
not perceiving the imminent threat
He let her pass then stepped beyond
the alley where he would choke
watched her shiver in the dew
then offered her his cloak
She startled at the deep rich voice
that rumbled in her ear
turning to face the mountain man
that crowded her, so near
He murmured his apologies
for frighteninging her this eve
She accepted his 'so very sorry'
putting one arm through the sleeve
He helped her on with his cloak
She scented his dissent
He motioned for them to walk on
She pretended to ignore his intent
He talked to her as he walked
She nodded and she smiled
He grinned at her responses
She giggled all the while
He bought her home, safely
forgetting she was his meal
She bought him back, from the brink
turned around to show her heel
He clasped her hand to his heart
whispered 'There are others, such as I,
while tonight, you arrived home safe,
it's more than likely you'd not survive'
She took his palm from her heart
pressing her lips dead upon its centre
then licked up to his fingertip
asking 'But, who would remember?
Who would ever remember the girl
found broken in some alley way?
If you're not the one to remember,
please... *Stay'

he empties his pockets
at the end of the day
she hates random
pieces of paper
in her washing
cleaning out the lint filter
mumbling to herself
shaking out the snow
of forgotten wishes
from her clean clothes

he can't say

that was the receipt
for the flowers I sent
or the lay by for something
simply fantastic,
regardless of what's spent

so he dutifully empties
his pockets each evening
before leaving
his clothes for cleaning
and then sits silently
holding onto
all of his dreams
from his pocket...
staring at receipts
of his attempt
to please
his woman, his wife
the love of his life

there is no snow
on his clothes
because each night
he remembers
to empty
his pocket
full of dreams
*and hope

they come easier
when the rain
washes away
tears, all becomes
so much clearer
when answers
become questions
and time becomes
finite
when hurt becomes
just a fickle memory
just a trickle of shivers
that run down
a spine
distance remembers
that unjust thoughts
are a simple art
that carry their own
magic
we danced
on razors blades
in the end
forgetting
the softness
of the feathers
where we bedded
at the start
but what is
tragic?
is that I never
apologised
Not for my
words,or
my actions
or,
for why I thought
you would
care?
I want to apologise
that I occupied
the same space
as you
and you never
really knew
I was there

*i am so sorry

When I gave up, I pretty much just stopped, like two feet firmly planted into quicksand. I just stopped.
When I could no longer take a step, I just let my arms fall down to my side, fingers spread and just sighed.
Chin tucked to my chest, an even breath, then a scream that only echoed on the inside.
When I stopped screaming, I was still sinking and the crushing absence of movement made me bold. I struggled and I flailed but to no avail did I become free from the quicksands hold.
Within reach of my fingertips was a ghostly branch, from a tree that had weathered sicknesses untold. But still that tree reached out for me and as I took hold of it's ghastly brittle fingers, and even now in my mind it lingers, I took that tree out by the roots to sink in cahoots beside me, lingering in this quicksand.
I immediately apologised profusely to the tree that now sinks beside me.
The tree answered back, no, please it was I that lacked the fortitude to save thee.
Oh no! I thought, it was my troubled mind that led me to sink so deep, it was me who should weep quicksand tears for the tree who fell for me so blindly!
So me, and the tree, used each other, you see, one to stay afloat and the other to lay down finally,
to hold another up kindly.

Yesterday, they said there would be a hurricane
but I didn't listen, yesterday
Today I needed supplies, food, nappies, formula
and I was out of time. I had to drive
So I set out into the dark, just me and the baby
we didn't have far to go, not far
Yesterday I wouldn't have picked up a stranger
in the street, 'cause yesterday
was when I learned my lesson
today he was slogging against the wind
and rain, with rags covering his feet
We ended up inside his space
where he carried my baby girl
and laid her next to the fireplace
and he took me down the stairs, by the hand
where he looked at me like he truly cared
and calmly chained me to the wall
where I stood tall, until I crumpled
I was never going to get out of there
All I wanted to do was feed my baby
All he wanted was my baby
I died nightly as he raised my little girl
I cried daily as I saw her become a woman
inside her completely undecided world
He bought many more women to himself
as I looked at him from the wall
hating every single breath that he took
He never noticed as I shook
while he bragged that his baby girl
was growing to be a Doctor of great repute
I just wanted to puke, she was becoming the person
I always thought she'd be, except for me...
She came to see me one day
my baby girl, lied to... standing there
She never really decided to accept what her
Daddy
had to say, as he gave to her tons of excuses
why she couldn't go below the stairs
but by then she was curious
and what she got when she was there
was me
her Mommy
in all my glory, even though I thought
she never saw me, but she got the story
and as he walked down the stairs
in the middle of the night
he didn't see her waiting
she waited for the fright
the look on his face said he did it
because he cared
but as a Doctor she didn't dare
pretend that he was slated to be long
for this world, because in her hand
where her fingers curled, was the injection
that would make sure that he kissed a long
Goodnight
he raised her with all his might
to be something I would have been proud of

*She made it right...

We set a paper ship
upon the waters
in hope it will never know a storm
we have bared of our past
In hopes that maybe to gather
they could fair better than us
as clear skies graced our thought
now storm clouds loom heavy.
It's never as we planned
but never our fault.

Those paper ships slip
from between our fingertips
before we are ready to set sail
We watch them bob
upon traitorous waters
standing upon stormy land
and know only,
when they are lost at sea
that our casting off
has failed

Under moonlit nobility gets beyond our controls and storms
we seldom grasp, the ships sink faster than the images we have lives since painted within our thoughts.
It all comes full circle in the end

Full circle begins
when weeping upon a midnight beach
waiting for the debris to float in
To sit upon the sand
and not understand
how paper boats can't float
without sails
We set them out upon stormy seas
Hoping them fine and fair weather
only to see them smashed upon the shore
with no guidance from above
just a single feather
Buried deeply in their chest
a single hope
they could fly
now they lay broken
upon a distant shore
dying under a whisper
of... *I tried

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

his little red car didn't do 100
it didn't even do 55
it just scooted around the carpet
getting stuck on sticky substances
that were not embarrassing
his little red car drove along
uneven ground, and occasionally
ran into feet, that were mountains
that crushed the little red car
in anger and under the heel of rage
he was lost for words
his little red car, not broken
still on four wheels still drove on
until the day it ran into Mommas hand
it backed up and drove forward again
and the hand didn't move
it didn't ruffle angelic hair
and it didn't wave away his little red car
with indulgence
it didn't move at all
he was lost for words
he drives slowly along the streets
in his black car, red a color of agony
while he scoots around the alleys
his bare feet cold upon metal
there is no carpet, no stickiness
to be left as an unknown substance
allowed to cloud his vision
of how it is to be to drive around
carefree
at a loss for words

A True Parting

She raises her tiny fist
to plant in the middle
of his stricken chest
She spreads her fingers wide
across his heart
her open palm
comes to rest

They may have come to pass
in the middle of the night
but currents tend to mask
what wrongs that can be right
Tossed together inside a maelstrom
only to shelter
each other from,
the small atrocities
of both their realities
only the two of them know true
what each other sees

She says

"See that ship over there
...by the pier
I should be aboard it
...as I stand here"

October 4 2011

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!

before you start reading, please not that the Barbie in this poem is not the registered trademark that is the Barbie doll (all is revealed in the notes)*

When Barbie wakes up in the morning
Even the birds stop chirping in fright
She makes her way to the wardrobe knowing
What is inside will start the day right

First to be donned is her barbarian bra
It takes quite a task to fill
She really is ever so grateful for her bra
It keeps all the best bits subdued and still

The bras must always go on first
Without it she would be in trouble
If the briefs went on first without the bra
To this day she’d still be bent over double

Next on are the bountiful bootylicious briefs
She worries that they may have shrunk
Mayhap she should stop putting them in the dryer
They are essential to keep all her junk in her trunk

Over the top of the barbarian bra
Goes a sweater with the deepest V neck you’ll find
The cleavage that is on display is important
It keeps the focus from straying to her behind

On go the boots and laced up tight
These babies were made for walking
But most days they are just for comfort
Unless she’s up for some stalking

Last of all on her perfectly coiffed head
She settles her beautiful hat
It looks a little like a large table umbrella
In fact, once upon a time, it was actually that!

She’s now ready to start her day
And the birds resume chirping like a choir
Barbie is ready to face the world dressed in her
Barbarian Bra and Bountiful Bootylicious Briefs and
Other Amazing Attire

She emerged from the mist of a never ending fairy tale that was mistaken as a horror story and spread her wings to breathe death upon all who sort to strip from her the scales that had bought her glory and wrought death and destruction early on roaring I love to wake in the morning to the smell of chicken cacciatore!

But the days turned to weeks turned to months turned to forever when they just went on and on and the people she once terrorized died and turned to dust (if they escaped her justice) and she never aged one day over time. She sat back and snorted as her rage curled like smoke from a dying fire and contemplated that all her rage had dissipated and she had lost all her spark with her diminishing ire…

So she retreated to her lair deep in the Carpathians to contemplate her too long fate and only ever emerged to hunt (yes, she still ate) Her motto of Meat is fair game never changed, she was Dragon, her physiology stayed the same but she made sure it was a clean ****, out of necessity, not borne of fear and went back to her cave to lick her tail while studying her navel and sniffing back the occasional tear

On a particularly cold and blustery night, a bard, who was following the latest in season ‘now’ knight lost his way and stumbled into her cave and gave both of them a fright. She recognized his poet heart and he recognized her, from the start and she agreed not to eat him if he carried her musing to the heart of the people… so began a mutual understanding of the words that would be impart

She understood that her words would be the water that slaked a raging fire and would show others that she was angry but they had nothing to fear from her in the least and when she spoke and accidently let loose the fire in her heart then she felt contrite but there was nothing she could do about her inner beast.

All she wanted was the world to know that she had something to say and it was important that they looked beyond what they saw with their own eyes and ignored her form and looked into her heart.

She ate the bard, he was a tasty treat. She realized she was able to speak to the world, without interference because she was otherwise human and could embrace that part.
PS:

She still occasionally terrifies small children and is partial to animals for a quick snack but she remembers to walk among the village with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and knows that her words will give back :)

Dear Mine

If someone told me I could look into the future and see where I'd be in 24 years, and not only that,
see the journey leading to that point and I could make the decision to take another path,
but not see the future I would have said
NO.
Why?
Because I'm not a coward, nor have I ever been and neither do I ever want to be.
So, I never saw the path I'd take and I never dreamed it would lead me here,
writing this letter and even though I said I wasn't a coward,
and you're reading this thinking I really am,
just let me tell you, 24 years on, you have to admit I'm strong, even stronger to be doing this, but you and I?
We deserve better....

I Love You

Three words, out of the millions that have passed between us,
three words that have been a constant in so many days when words were like swords,
or rain,
or drought
or when a mute just wants to break out and say "Hey, I'm not just pretending there is a wall here, lm really trapped! Help Me!"

I like to to sing Pink inside my head just to keep my pen to this sheet of paper
* "We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to Love again"*

I believe that with every beat of my fractured heart and I hope you do too because with only one of us believing it, we will never be whole again.

I Love You

Blossom **

Just a twinkle in the night sky
A yearning to be someone
A sparkle in the darkest night
Your journey has just begun

Peanut…
Longing to grow into your long held dream
but at just little more than heart and soul
your sudden appearance holds me in thrall

Tadpole…
Swimming in a safe haven
developing on the wings of dreams
you start to understand what it all means

Little Human…
Longing for the world of open spaces
waiting to arrive, you see, you hear, you feel
to bring a touch to a life you can heal

Miracle…
A breath, a cry, held tight against warm skin
bursting into life with little fanfare
all your senses become aware

A shock of hair, a cupid smile
a perfect name to suit
an amazing gift from the Tree of Life
my precious Belly Fruit

© Helen Doogan 09/09/2010

Beyond
sad eyes that
shed soulful tears
Beyond a closed mind
that relives all that it fears
Beyond the whip that would flay
the broken skin. Beyond the words that
mark a soul with sin. Beyond the painful ache
that built a spark. Beyond the empty days we are
apart. Beyond a world that I have to live without you
Beyond lips that drip poison are words that are true. Beyond
is a world where I would hide. Beyond you is just a downhill slide

did you realize on that night
in July, when the chill breeze
bit into the skin of my broken
feet, that I was standing alone
as you walked down the street
with no backward look, you took
my dignity, my pride, my heart
from my side and left me staring
down at bloodied feet, the ones
that chased you across broken glass
to crimson coat ice blades of grass
the cold, so cathartic to my feet took
a while to reach my soul but I didn't
die of frostbite, that night, but it did
take me a season to thaw out whole

there is an initiative
on Facebbok
for the Black Dot
to be displayed on a palm
of those suffering with
Domestic Violence
who can't speak to you
because the cause of their angst
is standing behind them
fist raised, aim true
they're not allowed
to speak to you
but if you see that
Black dot,
and their eyes are bleeding
at you, please call the police
if you know them, if you don't
ask for their phone number
which is traceable too.

Supportive entirely
to that end
I propose an initiative
in support of a Blue Dot
a dot on the hand, of those
that suffer just as quietly
every single day
Those that live in denial
those they love and live for
might get better some day
I would like to place
a Blue Dot
on both my palms
and any who see it
on me
would just hold my hand
in theirs
letting me feel a connection
Knowing they understand

Black Dot/Blue
unable to speak truth
there is no doubt
Suffering is a real thing
the coloured dot
needs you to reach out

My mind stopped talking to me
about 6 weeks ago
So out of sheer loneliness
(and a little curiosity)
I started talking to my big toe

“Hey me old mate, how ya been?”

“Don’t old mate me
I haven’t seen you since
I don’t know when.
Oh, that’s right!
it was about the time
your big fat gut moved in!”

“Sorry I haven’t been around…”

“You’ve been ‘round alright
it’s actually a shape you wear well
but what do I know?
I’m kept in the dark most of the time
by the way, your shoes really smell!”

“But…”

“Oh No you didn’t
just bring **** into it
I know for a fact
they are just as mad at you,
and feeling the rejection
So is calf and knee and
elbow and poor little Pinkie toe too!
You no longer bother to have me rubbed
The only attention I get
is when you have me stubbed”

That was about when I stopped
talking to my big toe
It when on and on and on
Whinge, *****, whine!
Now I’m just lonely again
sigh
I really miss my mind

Dear Life,

*you're not worth it

She whispered to her husband with a little unease
They want to remove these but without them I might no longer be able to please...

Let them take them!
You're not just your *******,
You're not just your beautiful eyes
I wouldn't care if you'd been plucked blind!
You're not just a pair of luscious legs
that hold up that beautiful peach of an ****
You're the very air that I breathe
and every beat of my heart
I don't care if you don't have a thing on your chest
I only care, that without you near
I would follow you into eternal rest
Please let them take them
I'm not interested in anything
that doesn't have you to support them

His gaze started at her pretty pink toenails and travelled leisurely up her calves, his hands followed his eyes, to her knees and paused halfway up.
His hands skimmed her rounded belly where their three children began their life then traced her tiger scars onto her rib cage but his eyes were on hers, glittering like stars.
He ghosted up her torso and rested a trembling hand on her pulse
He whispered gently, against her lips

*This is what I want to feel the most!

No,
but, Yes
no I didn’t but,
Yes, I did

I died a thousand years ago
alas, my heart did not know it

This heart of mine beat on and on
every breath it took,
with every pitying look,
it tried to sing along

But the notes it sang became discordant
and with every jarring note
I just couldn’t
I could not look, I could not see
what I never wanted to hear
I cannot speak, I will not think
about all that I fear

Did I die?

Yeah... long ago!

It seems like yesterday

Am I dead?

I guess I am

You don’t see me anyway...

Beautiful, reborn
to a life you could not be
But you are not me

I am hunted for
my beauty for all to see
Pinned upon a board

My wings pulled outwards
stretched tight for the world to see
You still don’t see me

An exhibition
Another crucifixion
on a piece of wood

I appreciate
that you want to capture love
by my perfect form

but don't **** me so
you can set yourself free, just
Appreciate me

Do not pin me up
like a poster child of love
I am more like you

Creature of beauty
that is bound by a duty
To be, not to do

I've got no one to see these tears
any one who cares to wipe them away
I'm afraid they'll just drip down
from my eyes and I'll simply drown
because I don't know who to talk to
If I had a friend I might be able to call
I'd struggle with what to say to them
Sure, I've got family, with their own problems
who would only want to say
You'll be okay, it's alright
I don't really know what to say
I just cry and cry and cry
the tears won't stop falling
they're like Winters hug
and Summers kiss
they fall hard and fast
until they are just mist
that glass my eyes
just a hint of sadness
that people find easy to ignore
but they continue to fall
while I wipe them away
they fall silently and blindly
to those that look away
but yeah, if I had someone
to talk to...
The tears would burn less
like acid and maybe, just maybe
they would evaporate
and go away...

stacked high at the end of Seventh St
in a darkened alley, as high as seven feet
is a condominium of empty dreams and hope
falling down in the rain, slipping down the *****
home to many of one of the finally lost
coming home, breathing crystals of frost
averaged by the meaning of the total cost
Here, they are no more less, than garbage tossed
stacked high at the end of Seventh St
where home and hearth is just a heartbeat
where a pillow under the head is just concrete
there is nothing less than a lie, a thief or a cheat
and laying on the ground, with nothing to eat
is an act of defiance but the moment is fleet
stacked high the end of Seventh St
in an alley that echoes with the sound of defeat
compressed paper layers become home complete
here lays just one person,
inside his castle of cardboard,
blessing the ****** Mary for his penthouse suite

two eyes to behold
two arms to hold
two legs to wrap tight
one soul to recognize
what is right
believe in it I must
love at first sight
one chance
to make it right
two opportunities
*Day and Night

Your chances are, your chances are...

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Rain is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive, sourced from
a cloudless sky

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Death is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive.
After one last
cloudless breath
taken, no more.

who doesn't stick their tongue out
just to taste the color of the rain
who doesn't follow their own dream
to find a lost treasure for them to claim

don't go chasing rainbows
for the colors aren't so bright
at the end of every rainbow
is a black as dark as night

a rainbow only comes after the storm
and in the end it just fades away
how does chasing colors in the sky
become night time ecstasy in the day?

simple melody of color is apparent
in a heart that has beat in triple time
drowning in a cauldron of melting heat
is a glistening *** of gold so fine

don't go chasing rainbows
for the colors aren't so bright
at the end of every rainbow
is a black as dark as night

I am the shimmering colors
of no end you'll find, it seems
in the beginning, I'm all you wished
at the end, you'll find your dream

*don't go chasing rainbows
for the colors aren't so bright
at the end of every rainbow
is a black as dark as night