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 Feb 2015 kp mclennan
Helen
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
It has been truly my honor to co write this John : Enjoy
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.
This co write was a true honor and something I feel was way over due .
Helen honestly deserves far more credit than myself on this for her lines in this truly are brilliant.

I give her all the credit in the world cause co writing with me I know is far from easy but this write was truly a pleasure and I look forward to this being the first of many writes with her .

Cheers Helen
I've been scraped hollow--
An embalmed corpse force-fed with fluid
'Til I'm bloated and artificially plump,
But who can tell the difference?
We're so convincing, we bloated corpses,
Pumped full again like flat tires
We walk the earth in a daze,
Deaf and dumb and depleted and sore--
Our eyes droop, our knees spit and hiss,
Saggy skin and broken bones,
Yet somehow we blend in.
 Apr 2014 kp mclennan
Lana Grace
Here is the song of my soul,
As I long to be loved.

Just once, I want to be held.
Held not as a mother holds her child,
But held as a man holds the girl he truly loves with an undying passion.

Just once I want to hold your hand.
I want your fingers to intertwine with mine into a perfect fit.
I want to raise our perfectly held hands into the storm
And proclaim that we've made it.

Just once I want to look deep into your shining blue eyes,
And that is all.
Without a care in the world, I want us to be alone, just staring into your eyes as you stare into mine.
Maybe if I stared long enough, I'd really understand what the depth of your heart was trying to say.

Just once, I'd like to be pursued.
Only by you, with an undying passion.
I want to know what it's like to be loved unconditionally.
To be treasured, to be a jewel in your sight.

Just once I want to fall in love again with you.
Only you and all of you.
I want to experience the rest of our lives together as we have our childhood.
I want to be held.
I want to hold your hand.
I want to look at your beautiful blues.
I want to be treasured.
I want to be pursued.
I want to be loved.
I guess this is for you again, r. Love you always.
tonight
i wish i were with you
curled up beside you
your arms around me

safe
protected


tonight
i wish i were with you
your fingers softly tracing patterns on my skin
your breath warm on my neck

tonight
i wish i were with you
our bodies tangled
your fingers brushing gently through my hair
your voice buzzing melodically in the air
as i drift off to sleep

tonight….

tonight
i am missing you
corrosion of the soul
happens slowly but surely
by crushing grind of monotony.

each day society tells me my
value is based on my function and production,
and little by little I am crushed by failing expectations
that are not my own.

my soul slowly corrodes into nothing, but
out of the vast emptiness, life emerges again.
I yearn to be free, and this time I bear my
wounds with honesty and dignity. I am
unashamed about my soul being free to be me.

I have value period, not based on function or production,
but simply because I have a spark of life within me.
a divine spark that gives brith to new life
within me each day, each moment.
Words written to give me hope in a capitalist society that judges me by what I can do and produce, also written to free myself of my own self judgement.  I am enough simply being me.
 Apr 2014 kp mclennan
cosmic poet
sometimes it feels like my mouth is stitched shut
maybe to prevent me from saying the wrong thing?
but when the stitches fray
and im allowed the luxury of voice
it seems like wrong is the only language I know
I fell in love
with poetry the day
it became the only thing
I understood.
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