Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2014 Mike Fashé
Keilah
I search for your face
in this sea of people and your voice
lulls me closer
even if
I haven’t heard it
yet.
 Jul 2014 Mike Fashé
Doy A
What if I was funny
What if I wasn't skinny

What if today I didn't think of you

What if my fingers didn't tremble so much
What if my teeth were less crooked
And my laugh was less annoying

What if today I mattered to you

What if everything was the opposite
Of everything
And the sun was brighter at night
And it set in the East

*Would you love me then?
I am a broken mirror,
Smashed into pieces.
Scattered across the floor,
Being a burden to all.
Even with glue and tape,
I will never be whole.

I am a broken mirror,
Smashed into pieces.
Just sweep me up,
then throw me away.
No longer a problem
To all of those I love.
I slice up their hands,
As they tape me together.

I am a broken mirror,
Smashed into pieces.
I am ready to give up,
To no longer be judged.
I will forever be broken.
I will never feel whole.
It will never make sense why my heart belongs to a man who will never love me back. The words he says are old replayed records that were once melodies, that belonged to her. He can hold me and love me all night long but when the morning sun arises and he wakes up by my side, he wishes it were her eyes that he could get drunk on. She is beautiful, with hair golden and long, and my hair is black to match my soul. I like drugs I pop a pill every now and then, and she gets high from the life she is blessed to be able to live. I will never compare to her, but no, I don't want to be her,


But he does, and it will **** me forever, especially when he leaves.
Tucked away in the crevices of my mind,
Are shades of sorrow you left behind.
Memories of joy and sweet contentment,
Innocent of hate and bitter resentment.
Initiating as friends who desired affection,
Enthralled by lust and blind to speculation
From those whom regarded it all "too soon",
To prove them right and close in June.

Six months of sweet, indolent days,
Precious as the next due to the simple way
Your presence alone kept me elated,
Your revered wit held me captivated.
The moments we shared basking in the sun,
Or curling with the kittens - equally as fun.
The hushed inertia of our days spent together
Was not irksome and dull but treasured forever.

I can adopt adjectives, embellishments and rhyme,
In the child-like hope they may turn back time.
I can exhaust poetry as a means to say
That I miss you more each day.
But should you read this, I pray you must know
That the colourless wave of self-pity and woe
Brightens and shallows with every passing day,
And that our precious moments are pocketed away
In the warm embrace of my broken heart,
Slowly mending now that we are apart.
Like a phoenix rising from ash-glistened coal,
I will grow from the embers and rejuvenate my soul.
I will rise again and start anew,
And cherish the days I shared with you.
This is a tribute to someone who left me recently. I am not bitter or resentful but grateful for our time together. Writing this has helped me to mend and move on, and realise that some paths are meant to cross.
 Jul 2014 Mike Fashé
Anonymous
She told me I couldn’t stop
She said it was in my veins,
I didn’t believe her but it’s true
I’ve tried so hard to stop picking up my pen
I’ve tried to ignore the withdrawal from my notebook
But she was right, like always
And when I came back to my abandoned journals
She said
I knew you’d be back
Because words are not just words to you
I think that’s when I realized how damaging it can be
I wish my soul wasn’t drenched in words
It’s a disease, once you start it’s impossible to stop
For writers that is
Writing, it’s a disease;
Its incurable
I wasn’t born to write
With every bent petal,
and every fallen leaf,
my ma’s sweet kisses
And papa’s gentle smile
I learned to write

A five year old me was once fascinated
by the loop of an ‘e’
and the playful swing of an ‘m’,
The wide smile of a ‘d’ delighted me
Words were powerful and mesmerising,
now they lie discarded and ignored
in broken stanzas of self proclaimed irrelevance

I watch the black ugly marks
That taints countless sheets of paper
They surround me in a sea of ink
That once flowed carefully and slowly
A thousand thoughts with each single word
Drained lies my mind, my breath’s not a whisper but a plea
My heart pumps blood not ink, I’m not a poet, it says
Incoherent scribblings mock me with their existence

As a child, confined spaces scared me
But now, a confined mind petrifies me with just a glimpse
A pen stays gripped in my hand
I wonder what it fears more
My inability to let the ink flow coherently
Or my arrogant ramblings, regardless
And fearless of consequences
While I stumble on disjointed verses

A paper aeroplane is my best accomplishment
In my two hour search for freedom and thought
Who cares for pretty words and mystifying couplets?
When the idea of a paper boat seems much more exciting

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌
Written on 19 June 2014
I have been at war.
I'm sorry I've never written you.
The weapons we use are our minds.
Our survival, it's our destruction.
The only gun driven into our skull is the one we hold.
I have battle scars and healing wounds, they were left by nobody other than myself.
Someone drowned last night, he was thinking too much.
We learnt how to make nooses and how to use them.
 Jul 2014 Mike Fashé
M
Untitled
 Jul 2014 Mike Fashé
M
Feeling lost and gone
In need of simple song
The shortest stick is drawn
Lies, but you'll go along

Touch you one last time
"Goodbye," and all your cries
A final sign
To sever all your ties

But it cannot be done
You will not be drowned
Under my midnight sun
You cannot make a sound

Amazed you have been saved
I wish you could *hear* this... the way my brain told it to me has such a haunting tune... I guess you can make your own.
Next page