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Poems

Warren Arends Feb 2015
The stillness of the heart

The stillness of the silent heart.
When it doesnt beat and it doesnt speak.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its quiet.
When it doesnt move, its still.
When its grown contempt with its surroundings or come to terms with its turmoil.
The heart, when its lost its heat and its fire.

Oh the stillness of the heart when its silent.
When it doesnt make a sound.
When its grown too weak to weep.
When its grown tired of trying.
When there is nothing left to hear.

Oh the stillness of the heart when it doesnt speak.
When there is no words to form a rhythm or a beat.
When it doesnt move or quiver.
When it doesnt lash out or scream.
When it doesnt click of clammer.

Oh the stillness of the heart when its quiet.
When it doesnt mumble or moan.
When it doesnt wince or whisper.
when it doesnt murmur or mutter.
When it doenst have tenants or tones.

Oh the stillness of the heart when its still.
When its calm as night.
When its knots are un-tied.
When its movemnet has died.
When its lids are dark.

Oh the stillness of the heart when its grown contempt and come to terms.
When it doesnt  complain or compare.
When it doesnt fume or fight.
When it doesnt stretch or strive.
When it doesnt define or despair.

Oh the stillness of the heart when its lost its flame and its fire.
When its grown cold.
When its hard as rock.
When its ache and hurt is gone.
When it  doesnt hurt or long.

Oh its still.
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2010
Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how
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