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Sep 2014 · 1.4k
Rachel Sullivan Sep 2014
I remember the day,
you gave me a bracelet.
Leather, and brown.
Beautifully woven and thick,
Writing on the front that read
“Lokana”, your name in Hawaiian.

But the clasp was broken,
Completely unwearable.
I would have to tie it with string.

Most would have thrown it away.
You gave it to me as a gift.
And you looked at me
With such extreme importance in your eyes,
Your voice stern as you said
“Don't lose this.”

It was then that I realized
What it must have meant to you.
A sharp twinge of fear caught me
As I promised I wouldn’t,
Knowing how much you were asking of me.

I have such a forgetful mind, you see.
I drop brand new phones on concrete,
Leave 10 page essays at home,
Forget the way to my best friend's house
After hundreds of times being there.

I forget chunks of my life.
Years of my childhood,
Precious items,

Yet you wished me, of all people,
To keep track of something so small
And easy to lose.
And I, of all people, agreed to do so
Because I knew what it must have meant to you,
And now it means that to me too.
Aug 2013 · 729
Rachel Sullivan Aug 2013
If I could transform my very core into pages

If I could translate all my feelings to words

Then I you can bet I would

But I would only write it to read myself

Like a diary to gaze upon

With cold and bloodshot eyes

When I stay up all night,

Torn by my existence

I want to know why

I wish I could understand my feelings

And put myself into words

Maybe then

I would know what to do with me

If I could translate this hidden message

I am sure lies deep within

Maybe I wouldn't be beside myself

In trying to learn the meaning.

Maybe if I could write my wants

My needs

My thoughts

In a poem, or a simple lyric

I would know just what they were

But I can never find the words

Instead my insides speak in a foreign tongue

No dubbings, no subtitles, no dictionary

Just me listening to clogging whispers

Of which I can never decipher

My life would be so much simpler
If my heart knew English.
Jul 2013 · 2.9k
Rachel Sullivan Jul 2013
They are strange things; strangers.....
There are so many of them

Yet,  although these strangers are strange to me
To you they may be a friend

They are a strange species; these strangers
They overpopulate almost every place

Yet, they go about living similar lives of their own
Each one with a different story or face

Strangely, we are taught not to talk to strangers
And trained to avoid them

Yet, each one, whether strange or not,
Is, strangely enough, a person.

Strange is the way we feel about strangers
We fear them because we do not know them

Yet, these strangers are unknown to us
Because we choose not to know them

What strange mystery these strangers possess
Each one of them has a life,
A secret,
A past,
And a name
Just like us....

Yet, we label them as strange.

Yes, strange thing; these strangers

The strangest strange
Is that, strangely enough,
We are all strangers.
Jul 2013 · 549
A fear of footprints
Rachel Sullivan Jul 2013
I am afraid of stepping in the sand.
                                       For I am afraid of the mark I will leave.

                                    I am uncertain of the imprint I will make.
                                      And I am afraid of what it would mean.
                                                           ­  Perhaps,
                                         It will be small and insignificant.
                                                Ju­st a pathetic footprint,
                                     That the wind will blow away with time.

                                                          ­ Forgotten.
                                                      ­        Erased.
                                                 ­     Never to have been.
              ­                            I am afraid of disturbing the sand.
                                           Thousands of tiny rocks, moved
                                                           ­    By me.
                                           What if move them the wrong way?
                                               Is there even room for me,
                                            Amongst the sea of small stones?
                                                         ­         Or,
                                           What if I take my first step and fall?
                                           Thats not the mark I want to leave.
                                        Thats not how I want to be remembered.

         ­                                 Someday, I will have to take that step.
                                            Afterall, we all must move forward.
                                                But I dread the day I must go,
                                               And venture out into the desert,
                                                         ­  For I am afraid.

                                                 What if the sand is too hot?
                                                Perhaps, it will burn my toes.
                                                      What if I’m too weak?
        ­                                      What if I go the wrong way?
                                                  And my footprint points,
                                                   in the wrong direction?
                                          What if others will follow my steps?
                                                          ­ If I was lost,
                                         I wouldn’t want them to be lost too.

    ­                                                      It takes thought,
                                          How will I step on this sand of time?

                                                          ­Will I tiptoe on,
                                                   Just enjoying the walk,
                                                        And­ be at peace
                                             Knowing my steps won’t last?
                                                           ­        Or,
                                             Should I jump, at the risk of falling?
                                       And engrave a mark that the world will feel
                                                And keep for years to come,
                                              Like the fossils in a museum?

                                                       ­    Either way,
                                                       I will still be afraid.
Jul 2013 · 787
The home
Rachel Sullivan Jul 2013
Its yellow with white shutters
With flowers in clusters,
Surrounding the big green yard
A rocker outside, wooden and bold
So one can get busy growing old
With a cabinet of homemade jams jared

A big garage to the right
To work and play in at night
Filled with half done projects and dust
Oil, gears, and  tools to carry
Every man’s sanctuary
With broken machines and the smell of rust

A tire swing swinging
Child’s laughter ringing
Around the maple tree outback
River flowing nearby
And a kite flying in the sky
The small orchard outfront brings a snack.

A garden planted where
the sun is fair
And the pathway to it is curved
Inside there are colors
Hypnotizing to others
And a pump for water to be served

Ivy streaming up the walls
Vines curling as they crawl
Like the Christmas lights of spring
The windows glisten
As the residents listen
To the song birds in their nests sing

A winding staircase inside
With secret compartments to hide
Countless precious or priceless things
While happy photos paint the walls
And the small vases in the halls
Hold flowers with petals like butterfly wings.

The living room displays a simple radio to see
Which winter replaces with a Christmas tree
Beautiful music is played every hour
And depending on the season
Or any other special reason
The joyous residents will sing with notes sour

Food on the table
A comfy couch for cable
As the pie sits on the window to cool
A cookie jar ready to serve
But only given to those deserved
And the sweet smell could make anyone drool

In the study, take a look
To find a shelf full of books
Some are worn from use, others are untouched
All are worth a read
To a hungry mind to feed
And an old diary nearby waits to be clutched

Paintings strewn all around
Bought, handmade, or found
In rooms decorated with western antiques
Family heirlooms displayed
Heritage; dusty, old, and frayed
Proving that each family's history is unique

But at the heart of it all
At the back of the wall
Is the cradle thats held so many a child
And when death takes its toll
And captures the parents’ souls
Perhaps, the children will cherish something so mild

And the house and the cradle will hold many more
Jul 2013 · 681
Argument of importance
Rachel Sullivan Jul 2013
I am the container, the glass house in life
I'm fragile and bleed at the end of a knife
I'm also an outlet, a way to express
The one labouring to clean any mess
The pack mule to this game
The one to physically bear the pain
I'm overworked and under-appreciated
The only connection to the outside
Because I work as a shield against it
I have ragged and punched, laughed, and cried
I take the abuse and protect everything inside
I am, The Body

But what would life be without feeling?
A meaningless thing forever reeling.
I am the meaning, I find it in everything
I am the reason for the body’s being
I find beauty in almost every place
The body's my cage, I'm encased
I feel love, hate, and sympathy
A body cannot compete with me
I pump, I beat, I am the center of life
Art, happiness, pain, and strife
Are all things I feel and beat for
All things I wish to feel more
Without me
Life would cease to be
They call me
The heart

Although the body is the vessel
And the beat of the heart is essential
My pristine thoughts reign Supreme
The logical analyzer to this being
I am the true controller
The undeniable all-knower
The silly heart dabbers in petty things
While I know best about everything
The drone of a body needs my command
In order to react, feel, or stand
My impulses and neurons reside
as the head of all muscles inside
I am capable of miraculous lengths
My tissue is competent for amazing strengths
Throughout life I have had names of all kind
But my preferred entitlement is, The Mind

Physical presence is a wondrous thing
but its dying, weak, and fleeting
Have you forgotten why you breath?
Is it really that hard to conceive?
Life is discouraging but inner peace is true
The safe haven you seek has always been inside you
Spiritually there is more than meets the eye
Something that gives you life before you die
For centuries mankind has tried to solve this mystery
What energy leaves the dead behind in a cemetery?
What is life? What does it mean?
The heart, the mind, and the body?
Is that really all there can be?    
No my friends..... Remember me?
The light inside of this entity
The whisper bringing breath to the eyes
The warmth inside the heart to surprise
The essence of life before its taken its toll
I am love, I am spirit, I am The Soul.
Jun 2013 · 881
The Queen of broken hearts
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
I happened to fall down a great big hole
And the dive into darkness shook my soul
The world then turned upside down
when I saw locked doors all around
I chased after a hopping bundle of white
searching for happiness and some light
Crying a pool of tears
How in the world did I get here?

Thats  when I met you and your smiling face
I thought I had finally found hope in this place
Your grin beamed like a crescent moon
So captivating I couldn't help but swoon
So cheeky, fun, and hypnotizing
I didn't know you were secretly criticizing
You told me which way to go
I can't believe I didn't know

I never thought that the nice boy,
would be made of smoke

You’re a liar, a Cheshire cat
I can't believe I ever trusted that
That devilish smile, and those big bright eyes
How could I not see through that disguise?

Should have listened to the wise words said
By a blue oracle whispering in my head

You tricked me, looks like I was used
But it doesn't matter as long as you're amused?
I feel like shrinking in my skin
at the thought of your incessant grin
I thought you were there for me
That you cared for me
But that was an act, a front, a lie
I Discovered a teaspoon of truth
and said goodbye

I'm sorry, baby, but you’re a pig
With deceitful eyes and smile that's big
You’re a red rose that's painted itself white
Later I knew something wasn't right
But I should have seen it right from the start
You're nothing but a beautiful but sour ****
Did you think I wouldn’t notice how distant you’ve become?
Well then,Dear, you're as stupid as tweedle dee and tweedle dum
I saw your game, your stack of cards
You led me to trust your delusive accords

You left me here, amongst the chaos and confusion
Sick from a potion I had to drink to believe your delusion
I'm the queen of a broken heart and all I see is red
If I had my way, it would be
**“Off with your head!”
Jun 2013 · 588
A face made for smiling
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
I stare at his rich fair skin
                                        and get lost in his dark brown eyes
                                           There is a genuine look to him
                                             No front, no act, no disguise

                                              How friendly those eyes are!
                                              Warm and inviting, they shine
                                          They laugh and shimmer like a star
                                        Oh how I wish their gaze to been mine
                                   His kind heart seeps through as his face pirks
                                  Beautiful lips pull up displaying his perfect teeth
                                   His cheek and jaw bones accentuate his smirk
                                  His cheerfulness shows outside and underneath

                                                     ­       Every Line,
                                                         every shadow,
                                                    every­ mark on his skin
                                    Was divinely created to hold the shape of a grin

                                  What a shame it would be to see this face frown
                                      What a crime it would be to see a tear shed
                                      on this masterpiece as precious as a crown
                                 This peaceful happiness that radiates from his head

                                 Innocent and trusting, his heart lives on his sleeve
                                    The natural state of his face is a joyous smile
                                 There’s a brilliance around him I hope will never leave
                                     Being honest, genuine,and sweet is his style

                                      I feel sorry for anyone who hasn't seen this art
                                        He has a wondrous air about him it seems
                                      A secret light in his smile that warms the heart
                                                       A smiling face so bright
                                                                ­  It beams!
Jun 2013 · 588
The mirage of beauty
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
She looks for everyone's approval, and its almost sad to see
That she concerns herself with petty things that aren’t important to anybody
She bases her whole worth on her beauty,              
                                                             her values are clearly displaced
She searches for love with her image alone,
                                                           her body,
                                                                         her hair,
                                                                                       her face.
She craves the attention her looks give her,
                                                              for its the only attention she has ever been shown

How sad it must be to live life as she does, surrounded by admirers but still,

All her energy and time is devoted to her beauty,
                                                                     she is a Glorious shell ...with nothing inside

Thrown into the arms of a boy who will hurt her as soon as his interests in her appeal subside

She constantly asks how she looks,
                                                     she desperately searches for praise from anyone to see

A naive child, finds she is only known for her body

But if not for her attraction,
                                        What would there be?

A lonely little girl doomed to being nobody.

She cannot abandon this life that she knows,
                                                                 For its the only one she knows best
The illusion she portrays is the power that she holds in a world where there is no rest.

While some would die for this beauty she has,
                                                        in reality it causes her pain and a nagging unfulfilled urge

                                        Starving herself,
                                        Crying at night,
                                        Having the eyes of others
                                        And a mirror
                                        Rule her life
Cause an emptiness she longs to purge

While some seek love from its innermost source she finds it in its most fading mirage

But to face the world with closed eyes and only your naked soul to be seen....
                                         Is true Courage.
Jun 2013 · 1.1k
Shock to monitor
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
Its not that serious, its not that sincere
                           Lights and electricity, not really what they appear
                           They’re numbers and codes, not actual actions
                                Its binary code, not true transactions
                         ­   Don’t take it to heart, its too cold to have a pulse
                           Full of electric charges but no flesh to convulse
                                Its just a network, not real interactions
                   It doesn’t matter what is said, they are just letters and captions
                           There aren’t any rules, why would there be?
                          Its through wires and plugs, not genuine ability
                          Don’t take it personally, you are not meant to
                         Typed smiles and faces, the likeness they woe!
                        But they have no unique attributes to be weighty to you.
                             Say what you want, its different here
                             No face to look at.. no eye to tear.....
                          Don’t act like yourself, you’re not yourself anymore
                       The detachment of this tragedy strikes you to the core
                   Lash out if you want, there is no real person to receive your blow
                          A username, a picture, no one you really know.
                      Tell them they are nothing! you’re right, aren’t you?
                      They are just lifeless drones with nothing else to do.
                           Exercise your anger, its all an outlet here
                    You can get more attention here than you did anywhere
                           ­   Its virtual, Its cold, a social evolution!
                          Its clean and pure, no emotional pollution.
                         ­   No responsibility,
                                                    this world is like a dream......
                        ­ Become another person,
                                                         ­        And hide behind a screen.
Jun 2013 · 630
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
Disappointment is the worst form of suffering
                          Its the threat for destruction in your everything

To have something to love be crushed
Is the type of pain that cannot be hushed
To hope for something and have your hopes dashed
Is to love and have your heart slashed
                 To work yourself to the bone for nothing at all
                           Is to climb the mountain just to fall
                        To smile and have your teeth break
                            Is to fall victim to any mistake
To try and fail by your own fault
                            Is to open a wound and rub in salt

I am used to disappointment
It happens to me so much
Crying over things gone and went
Has become my emotional crutch
                                                     Here I go again...
                                                         that this time,
                                                              I’ll win
                                 Here I go,
                                Betting all my chips
                            Crossing my fingers
                             And biting my lips
                                        No turning back, it's all or nothing now

                                I want it to work,
                                        Here I go, jumping off a bridge with you
                               Please, do me a favor and don't disappoint me too.
Jun 2013 · 773
Life is a river, not a lake
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
Strive on in front and leave the past behind
My old life is gone, and the future is blind
I turn my head and start to cry,
As I regretfully say goodbye
To something that was dear to me

But memories will fade
And new ones will be made
So on this journey
I look ahead to see

Life goes on, and in its place
Will be a new adventure to come and face
Hold a smile for the new day to see
Even though along the way I may be missing somebody

Like a stream brings change with the ripples on its surface
And just like a river, life rushes fast with a purpose

Water  holds true to time, like sand
When held to your heart, it slips through your hands

Something I have learned, and you ought to know
In life things don't stay still, they flow
Change is inevitable, and the journey makes that true
The scenery changes..... and so do you

And from that please try to remember for your own sake
The secret to life is its a river, not a lake.
Jun 2013 · 527
The poison of perfection
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
What if life were perfect
and it was impossible to disappoint?
What if frowns were never made
and fingers would never point?
What if heaven was a place on earth,
and everyone lived there?
The sun would shine all day long
and no one would cry or care.

What if we lived in a castle
and you wore a crown on your head?
What if everyone loved you
and worshiped every word you said?

Would you still declare yourself unwanted?
Would you still demand your life was taunted?

What if you were never the victim,
and everyone bowed to you?
If you could never lose your loved ones,
would still you love like you used to?

Would you still have a fear of being left?
Would you still accuse the world of theft?

If your life was everything you wanted,
would you still find fault in it?
If the world was a blinding white,
would you still find black in it?
What if love engulfed you?
would you still insist to hate?
What if you had the world on a platter
and the power to control your fate?

Would you still feel helpless against it all?
Would you still feel prone to grovel and crawl?

What if even I were perfect?
would that finally satisfy you?
Would you feel peace at last
and finally start a new?

What if it was all enough?
Would that be enough for you?
Would you still feel cheated?
And claim your defeated?
Would it ever be enough for you?

What if life were perfect,
and all your dreams came true?
Would you finally be happy?
        Of course not!

A world of perfection wouldn't matter
…...........if you're not perfect too.
Jun 2013 · 949
A mother transforms you
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
My mother is the reason I am on this earth
For nine months she carried me, then gave birth
But this flesh and skin that you now see
Is not the only thing she has given me
God honored me with her curly hair
And the eye shape found in her own stare
But she'd insist it ugly until I would cry
For "Men don't like curls and froggy-eyes"

My mother gave me two siblings to love
And, for them, everyday, I thank the heavens above
But those two young siblings of mine,
Although they are hers by define,
Once upon a time,
They called me mommy
For I cared for them, not she

My mother picked, for me, a father who I treasure
To his parenting, love, and devotion, there is no measure
But since their marriage went South
Only piercing screams have left her mouth
Of her cursing me for being his daughter

My mother showed me how to be strong
She taught me to rise above and continue on
Since I was young, I carried her through hard times
Even though she was absent for all of mine
And so I learned to shoulder the burdens of two

My mother taught me to be myself
And to never walk the path of anyone else
Because upon me she forced her own self
And I was never happy being her

I owe her for the very blood in my heart
But she was never a mother, from the very start
She was a child, scared of being alone
Afraid of being abandoned in a cold empty home
She hated herself and the world too
And I was her crutch in this life of blue

But although it was hard, I forgave her
Although she was wrong, I thank her
And although it hurt, I love her

She was the biggest part of my journey
For she is the reason I am me
All that she wasn't, she taught me to be
And so I am grateful for all she gave me

No matter what,
I still
and always will,
Love my mom <3

— The End —