There is a shadow looming near
staring me straight in the eyes
unflinching
its darkness pitch
it must be the devil's friend

Its contours stretch far and wide
spreading its arms right about me
engulfing me in its cold embrace
taking me for a ride
one that i cannot run away from

Once strong, now i remain weak
determination is nothing but a wish
work is everything but fulfilling
contentment if far long gone
the shadow is right here.....

with me.

A web of sadness surrounds me
Dread, fear, loneliness, death
How much can one body take?

You have been through this before, the very same old song is playing and you are dancing the same moves

The same words have been spoken, you are still reacting the same old way

Yes you have been through this before, and nothing has changed.

They looked at your helplessness, they saw the waters gather speed in your eyes making ready

As they rushed down your cheeks, they looked away and washed then not away

Naked as you were, no one dared to cover you up.

Words were spoken, promises made, hope given, faith instilled, a better tomorrow promised

Yes, they heard them, they watched as you delved deeper into their web of lies

And smiled at their expertise in the ways of the tongue.

Showers of love they seemed, yet only a tenderizer for the next hard landing

Never softer, nor sweeter, ever damaging, heart breaking

But

You have been through this before, the very same old song is playing and you are dancing the same moves.

Fists of pain and heartbreak
Kicks of reality and truth
Caged, alive, dying, dead and gone
When will it ever stop?

This maze that is called life
has its claws clenched deep inside flesh
that i have no where to twist and turn
or whom to lean on and love

I am just a head on shoulders
feeling nothing but doom and nursing
nothing but tragedy after tragedy
oh how it can play tricks on you
sometimes

Only yesterday did i have
the whole world in my hands
yet only crumbs do i own now
i guess that is the maze that is called
life.

All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.

Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?

Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict "to begin it"
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it!" --
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.

Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast --
And half believe it true.

And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
"The rest next time --" "It is next time!"
The happy voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out --
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.

Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Meinory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
Pluck'd in a far-off land.

Alice's adventuers in wonderland

By Tyler Knott Gregson

How quickly jealous
i become
of the wind
when it,
and not i,
gets the privilege
of properly
messing up
your hair

By Christopher Poindexter

She buried
         her ears
     into the calm
        of his heartbeat,
      and in a matter of seconds;
                fell terribly in love
            with the way
          her loneliness fell
             softly and suddenly,
                 asleep,
            in his chest.

Of the beautiful honour
That is motherhood;
The intense emotion of conceiving;
The lengthy lactation; and,
The labour pangs.

I fear what may happen.
Will the baby live to term
Or termination?
What will my reaction be if....
If my womb gave way before it is grown?

I am afraid
Of the minute changes; yet blissful,
But unknown.

Will my baby make me grandchildren
In this world?

I am afraid.

Agrace ‪#‎feelingforAfrica‬

Why is it that
when my heart breaks
words form in my mouth
like saliva does for hard corns?

When happy
they peel back the back of my mind
laying bear my soul

When non feeling
**NOTHING

By Ron Koertge

Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

It's all right to carry a notebook but a cheap
one is best, with pages the color of weak tea
and on the front a kitten or a space ship.

Avoid any enclosed space where more than
three people are wearing turtlenecks. Beware
any snow-covered chalet with deer tracks
across the muffled tennis courts.

Not surprisingly, libraries are a good place to write.
And the perfect place in a library is near an aisle
where a child a year or two old is playing as his
mother browses the ranks of the dead.

Often he will pull books from the bottom shelf.
The title, the author's name, the brooding photo
on the flap mean nothing. Red book on black, gray
book on brown, he builds a tower. And the higher
it gets, the wider he grins.

You who asked for advice, listen: When the tower
falls, be like that child. Laugh so loud everybody
in the world frowns and says, "Shhhh."

Then start again.

from Fever, 2006
Red Hen Press

Meandering eyes never
fell on such a sight as
when they saw the eyes of a wall.

Hidden beneath the shrubs
endowed naturally as leaves
as artificial as the wall painting she lay, asleep
unmoving despite the cold beating on her feather light clothes.

Nothing could betray her perfect camouflage
till her bright white eyes flew open
and gave way to the slight movement
that turned the meandering eyes
to the curved wall that was her voluptuous body.

Startled sighs that escaped the lips
could never measure to
the sight of a wall come to life
and the shrubs become an
unwelcome choice of a bed
or the stone a pillow.

We all have crowded bookshelves in our heads crammed with texts for every person we know.
They knock about in our skulls, falling off the shelves.
We refer to them again and again, wearing the pages thin.
When you read me wrong, everything that follows is askew.

By Dahlia Grossman-Heinze

Read more at http://the-toast.net/2015/03/05/right-words-say/#HtPOpT5X35dJrL9Z.99

“I rather be alone, than in the arms of someone who does not have the ability to comprehend the true essence of me. I want the type of love that is on fire; true passion engulfing my existence like a sixth degree burn.” —Awakened Vibrations

By Erma Bombeck

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and
worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the
fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

To continue reading - http://obscuritythought.blogspot.com/2015/04/if-i-had-my-life-to-live-over.html

I held my breathe
You touched my heart
I was optimistic
But frightened to the bone
So i let you go
How i wish i had held your hand
Assured you of my ever flowing love
Now i search for you earnestly
I hold my breathe time and again
But my heart remains untouched, unfeeling
Were you my last?

He didn't bother calling
Or asking how i am
She didn't try to make me smile
Just gave me a little food to eat
They didn't care that my face was bruised
They hounded me with more work
It didn't take a break
It pounced on me
With these pains, my hope is gone to the wind
Crying won't make it better too
Just resilience and hope
That tomorrow my face will see a semblance
Of a smile.

It rained heavily - on my face
The wetness blocked his view - on my face
Skin to skin, wiping it away won't help
Oh how i hate pimples

Stir up my emotions,
Iron them up out,
Make me believe
That it doesn't matter,
To be undecided,
Whether too small or too big,
Let me fit without a glitch all the same.

I aimed for the sky
and got myself to the moon
still,
i can't help but wish
you were my shooting star
so that you would quench
this burning desire
to have you all to myself

Have you ever been attacked for who you are?
I have been told over and over again that i am a good person and i never believed them
But now that they say i am a bad person,
And i can't stand it.

I am trying to get the best way to tell you how i feel
My words are not exceptional like Shakespeare's
They won't stick on your mind for generations to come
They are simple words of pain, real words of hurt

How can i move forward from this, this smoking environment round me
Is suffocating me, drawing me nearer to the grave
I wish you would remember something else about me
Other than this downtrodden vision of **ME

This is not a poem, it is an outcry.
A friend, a mentor, a shield, that's what she was.
Now, i feel i am under scrutiny under her gaze.
No longer a friend but a foe, how did that happen?
I wish it was because of something real, but no, it is not.
Its about ego, mine, hers and everyone's.
When did we (i) become so self centered?
Now, i let go of whatever it was that was causing this.
I want to be free, and free indeed.
From my bitter self, from my other half.

Its not always easy to tell you i love you,
but yes, i do

its not always easy to reach out to you,
but i would love to try
and yes, i do

its not always easy to say i am sorry,
the words never come out right
try as i might
at least i try
am sorry

The murderer in me is suffocating,
The strength in his grip is overwhelming,
There is an urgency to his cries.

His whispers are disguised poison,
Sweet to the tongue but bitter to the soul,
He knocks ever so lightly,
But just enough to alarm calm me.

I have no where to hide,
Outward is too bare to the world,
Yet inward is too crowded for my own liking,
Where shall I hide you,
If not bury you deeper?

If everyone has a problem with you,
Then you are the problem, they say,
I wish he understood that.

A young body
with the eyes of an adult
pristine arms
with adulterated hands
so long innocence
so long childhood

all he will ever know
is a life of work, work and more work
speak to his soul
and you will find an aged man
so long innocence
*so long childhood

I can't be ALL bad
SOME part of me is good
if not, the most part.

Thing is, you DON'T know me
if you did, you would see
how precious i am.

The problem is not with me
but with you, all the time
i am RIGHT.

STOP judging me for what you don't know
all you have to do is understand me
i am never wrong.

How i wish you would just to know the real me.

“He used to love me,
and now
he’s just a stranger
who happens to know
all my secrets.”

By Clementine Von Radics

Do not fall in love with people like me.  I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.

By Caitlin Siehl,

Read more at http://quotesberry.com/post/111562356007/when-i-leave-you-will-finally-understand-why-storms#Ek7vYV2HDA5XT­Z4M.99

If only it were easy
To really let go and forget
The promises you made so heartily
Back when your heart beat with mine
And love flowed visibly
From your eyes.

Time heals all wounds
I know so well the sound of my advice
But taking it now when my heart aches
Would be a lie i will be telling myself
For all i feel is the emptiness
Of not having you in my life.

I want not to feel
To write naughty poems
But how can i smile outward
When i am seething inward
Of the pain of not being one with you
Anymore.

Would it be too much to ask
For a break from the drama that's called
life?

Would it be stupid of me
To think that there is something called
Happiness?

Would it be senseless of me
To hope for anything better than
This?

Would it be too much to ask
For a break from the drama that's called
Life?

We are all made in different skins
From the soft purple for tenderhearted ones
To hero like black ones
Yet under one umbrella we all gather
Living for today and hoping for tomorrow
Falling off the face of the earth
And forgotten when our bodies decompose
What more then should we strive for
Other than the ***** of our father, our God
Who in him is our daily strife
Life and death.

“We are at our very best, and we are happiest, when we are fully engaged in work we enjoy on the journey toward the goal we’ve established for ourselves. It gives meaning to our time off and comfort to our sleep. It makes everything else in life so wonderful, so worthwhile.” – Earl Nightingale

If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, dried and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

By Sarah Quil

Once upon a time, I had the zeal of a thief with a mission, I knew what I wanted, I strived to get it, and failure did little to deter me. My heart pounded blood with fire, it acted with a vengeance filling me up with a strong desire, a hope, a future that all will be well, with time.

Time goes by quickly enough. With 24 years on my back, I am still in the same place as I was ten years ago but with less vigor. A state of hopelessness has made a nest in my crib, time seems to drag and I wait for my next big dream to come crumbling down once again.

The God I worshipped before has changed too, I have a new one, one who is more loving and has more enemies, the only problem is, the enemy is winning this fight of souls. I am down the drain of waste, slowly filling my belly with dirt and too distracted with the failure in front of me to spit out the filth from my lips.

I wake each day with a fresh brain, waiting to be filled up but soon afterwards, its filled with past failures, past pains, the past, the past, the past! Now, I know what you are thinking, move on, let the past be the past. I know all about moving on, I moved on from my ex, it took me more than a year but I am glad I let the ******* go (not that he is that bad!) but how can I move on from this? Every day is a reminder of the past, thing is, I don’t have to live in my past to be influenced by it, many times, the past is indeed my present.

The past has a bag of failures packed up to the brim, my present too is always marked with failure after failure. How can I make you understand the state of hopelessness that is eating at me? No, I am no saint, I am no good at many a thing, I wish I was also as good in getting over this, only problem is that it feels like a thousand galaxies have been set on my shoulders for me to carry.

This is what hopelessness means, I have a past that is too strong for me, a present that is dim each day and a future that is so bleak that looking at it only makes me sink deeper.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants to or needs to…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

a youth she’s content to leave behind….

a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to
retelling it in her old age….

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …..

a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .

one friend who always makes her laugh… and one who lets her cry…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….

a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …

eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …

a feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to fall in love without losing herself.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

when to try harder… and WHEN TO WALK AWAY…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

that she can’t change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

that her childhood may not have been perfect…but its over…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to live alone… even if she doesn’t like it…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..

whom she can trust,
whom she can’t,
and why she shouldn’t take it personally…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

where to go…
be it to her best friend’s kitchen table…
or a charming inn in the woods…
when her soul needs soothing…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

what she can and can’t accomplish in a day…
a month…and a year…

By
Pamela Redmond Satran

Welcome to society,
We hope you enjoy your stay,
And please feel free to be yourself,
As long as it's in the right way,
Make sure you love your body,
Not too much or we'll tear you down,
We'll bully you for smiling,
And then wonder why you frown,
We'll tell you that you're worthless,
That you shouldn't make a sound,
And then cry with all the others,
As you're buried in the ground,
You can fall in love with anyone,
As long as it's who we choose,
And we'll let you have your opinions,
But please shape them to our views,
Welcome to society,
We promise that we won't deceive,
And one more rule now that you're here,
There's no way you can leave.

By
Erin Hanson

I always wonder why
birds stay
in the same place
when they can fly
anywhere on the earth.
Then i ask myself
the same question.

By
Harun Yahya

I loved her
not for the way
she danced
with my angels
but for the way
the sound of
her name
could silence my
demons.

By Christopher Poindexter

I write to give myself strength. I write to be the characters that i am not. I write to explore all the things i am afraid of. - Joss Whedon