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Dimitrios Sarris Jul 2017
It saddens my heart to
see the pain and suffering
people inflict on each other.
It saddens me beacause
they don't want to stop.
It saddens me that people
crave the opposite of honesty.
It saddens my soul that poeple
critisize and feel happy in the
suffering of each other.
It saddens me that they would do
anything for attention in the
frame of social media.
It saddens me that they do the
opposite from what they must
and all they feel is anger
just blaming anything but
themeselves.
It saddens my heart that they do
not recognize the distortion within
and they won't ever truly awaken.
It saddens me bacause it feels like
i'll be fighting these people till the
end of my days.
It saddens...sigh
It saddens me because these words
would mean nothing to them.
Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea’s hills the setting Sun;
Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light;
O’er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows;
On old ægina’s rock and Hydra’s isle
The God of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O’er his own regions lingering loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious Gulf, unconquered Salamis!
Their azure arches through the long expanse,
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.

  On such an eve his palest beam he cast
When, Athens! here thy Wisest looked his last.
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murdered Sage’s latest day!
Not yet—not yet—Sol pauses on the hill,
The precious hour of parting lingers still;
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain’s once delightful dyes;
Gloom o’er the lovely land he seemed to pour,
The land where Phoebus never frowned before;
But ere he sunk below Cithaeron’s head,
The cup of Woe was quaffed—the Spirit fled;
The soul of Him that scorned to fear or fly,
Who lived and died as none can live or die.

  But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain
The Queen of Night asserts her silent reign;
No murky vapour, herald of the storm,
Hides her fair face, or girds her glowing form;
With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,
There the white column greets her grateful ray,
And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkles o’er the Minaret;
The groves of olive scattered dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds his scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk,
And sad and sombre ’mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus’ fane, yon solitary palm;
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;
And dull were his that passed them heedless by.
Again the ægean, heard no more afar,
Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war:
Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mixed with the shades of many a distant isle
That frown, where gentler Ocean deigns to smile.

  As thus, within the walls of Pallas’ fane,
I marked the beauties of the land and main,
Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poets’ lore;
Oft as the matchless dome I turned to scan,
Sacred to Gods, but not secure from Man,
The Past returned, the Present seemed to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!

  Hour rolled along, and Dian’******on high
Had gained the centre of her softest sky;
And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod
O’er the vain shrine of many a vanished God:
But chiefly, Pallas! thine, when Hecate’s glare
Checked by thy columns, fell more sadly fair
O’er the chill marble, where the startling tread
Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead.
Long had I mused, and treasured every trace
The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,
When, lo! a giant-form before me strode,
And Pallas hailed me in her own Abode!

  Yes,’twas Minerva’s self; but, ah! how changed,
Since o’er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Her form appeared from Phidias’ plastic hand:
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance
Seemed weak and shaftless e’en to mortal glance;
The Olive Branch, which still she deigned to clasp,
Shrunk from her touch, and withered in her grasp;
And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedimmed her large blue eye;
Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow,
And mourned his mistress with a shriek of woe!

  “Mortal!”—’twas thus she spake—”that blush of shame
Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honoured ‘less’ by all, and ‘least’ by me:
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.
Seek’st thou the cause of loathing!—look around.
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive Tyrannies expire;
‘Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant, violated fane;
Recount the relics torn that yet remain:
‘These’ Cecrops placed, ‘this’ Pericles adorned,
‘That’ Adrian reared when drooping Science mourned.
What more I owe let Gratitude attest—
Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.
That all may learn from whence the plunderer came,
The insulted wall sustains his hated name:
For Elgin’s fame thus grateful Pallas pleads,
Below, his name—above, behold his deeds!
Be ever hailed with equal honour here
The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer:
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won.
So when the Lion quits his fell repast,
Next prowls the Wolf, the filthy Jackal last:
Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own,
The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.
Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crossed:
See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold where Dian’s beams disdain to shine!
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When Venus half avenged Minerva’s shame.”

  She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply,
To soothe the vengeance kindling in her eye:
“Daughter of Jove! in Britain’s injured name,
A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim.
Frown not on England; England owns him not:
Athena, no! thy plunderer was a Scot.
Ask’st thou the difference? From fair Phyles’ towers
Survey Boeotia;—Caledonia’s ours.
And well I know within that ******* land
Hath Wisdom’s goddess never held command;
A barren soil, where Nature’s germs, confined
To stern sterility, can stint the mind;
Whose thistle well betrays the niggard earth,
Emblem of all to whom the Land gives birth;
Each genial influence nurtured to resist;
A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist.
Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain
Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain,
Till, burst at length, each wat’ry head o’erflows,
Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows:
Then thousand schemes of petulance and pride
Despatch her scheming children far and wide;
Some East, some West, some—everywhere but North!
In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth.
And thus—accursed be the day and year!
She sent a Pict to play the felon here.
Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,
As dull Boeotia gave a Pindar birth;
So may her few, the lettered and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave,
Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand;
As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,
Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race.”

  “Mortal!” the blue-eyed maid resumed, “once more
Bear back my mandate to thy native shore.
Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine,
To turn my counsels far from lands like thine.
Hear then in silence Pallas’ stern behest;
Hear and believe, for Time will tell the rest.

  “First on the head of him who did this deed
My curse shall light,—on him and all his seed:
Without one spark of intellectual fire,
Be all the sons as senseless as the sire:
If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,
Believe him ******* of a brighter race:
Still with his hireling artists let him prate,
And Folly’s praise repay for Wisdom’s hate;
Long of their Patron’s gusto let them tell,
Whose noblest, native gusto is—to sell:
To sell, and make—may shame record the day!—
The State—Receiver of his pilfered prey.
Meantime, the flattering, feeble dotard, West,
Europe’s worst dauber, and poor Britain’s best,
With palsied hand shall turn each model o’er,
And own himself an infant of fourscore.
Be all the Bruisers culled from all St. Giles’,
That Art and Nature may compare their styles;
While brawny brutes in stupid wonder stare,
And marvel at his Lordship’s ’stone shop’ there.
Round the thronged gate shall sauntering coxcombs creep
To lounge and lucubrate, to prate and peep;
While many a languid maid, with longing sigh,
On giant statues casts the curious eye;
The room with transient glance appears to skim,
Yet marks the mighty back and length of limb;
Mourns o’er the difference of now and then;
Exclaims, ‘These Greeks indeed were proper men!’
Draws slight comparisons of ‘these’ with ‘those’,
And envies Laïs all her Attic beaux.
When shall a modern maid have swains like these?
Alas! Sir Harry is no Hercules!
And last of all, amidst the gaping crew,
Some calm spectator, as he takes his view,
In silent indignation mixed with grief,
Admires the plunder, but abhors the thief.
Oh, loathed in life, nor pardoned in the dust,
May Hate pursue his sacrilegious lust!
Linked with the fool that fired the Ephesian dome,
Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb,
And Eratostratus and Elgin shine
In many a branding page and burning line;
Alike reserved for aye to stand accursed,
Perchance the second blacker than the first.

  “So let him stand, through ages yet unborn,
Fixed statue on the pedestal of Scorn;
Though not for him alone revenge shall wait,
But fits thy country for her coming fate:
Hers were the deeds that taught her lawless son
To do what oft Britannia’s self had done.
Look to the Baltic—blazing from afar,
Your old Ally yet mourns perfidious war.
Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,
Or break the compact which herself had made;
Far from such counsels, from the faithless field
She fled—but left behind her Gorgon shield;
A fatal gift that turned your friends to stone,
And left lost Albion hated and alone.

“Look to the East, where Ganges’ swarthy race
Shall shake your tyrant empire to its base;
Lo! there Rebellion rears her ghastly head,
And glares the Nemesis of native dead;
Till Indus rolls a deep purpureal flood,
And claims his long arrear of northern blood.
So may ye perish!—Pallas, when she gave
Your free-born rights, forbade ye to enslave.

  “Look on your Spain!—she clasps the hand she hates,
But boldly clasps, and thrusts you from her gates.
Bear witness, bright Barossa! thou canst tell
Whose were the sons that bravely fought and fell.
But Lusitania, kind and dear ally,
Can spare a few to fight, and sometimes fly.
Oh glorious field! by Famine fiercely won,
The Gaul retires for once, and all is done!
But when did Pallas teach, that one retreat
Retrieved three long Olympiads of defeat?

  “Look last at home—ye love not to look there
On the grim smile of comfortless despair:
Your city saddens: loud though Revel howls,
Here Famine faints, and yonder Rapine prowls.
See all alike of more or less bereft;
No misers tremble when there’s nothing left.
‘Blest paper credit;’ who shall dare to sing?
It clogs like lead Corruption’s weary wing.
Yet Pallas pluck’d each Premier by the ear,
Who Gods and men alike disdained to hear;
But one, repentant o’er a bankrupt state,
On Pallas calls,—but calls, alas! too late:
Then raves for’——’; to that Mentor bends,
Though he and Pallas never yet were friends.
Him senates hear, whom never yet they heard,
Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd.
So, once of yore, each reasonable frog,
Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign ‘log.’
Thus hailed your rulers their patrician clod,
As Egypt chose an onion for a God.

  “Now fare ye well! enjoy your little hour;
Go, grasp the shadow of your vanished power;
Gloss o’er the failure of each fondest scheme;
Your strength a name, your bloated wealth a dream.
Gone is that Gold, the marvel of mankind.
And Pirates barter all that’s left behind.
No more the hirelings, purchased near and far,
Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war.
The idle merchant on the useless quay
Droops o’er the bales no bark may bear away;
Or, back returning, sees rejected stores
Rot piecemeal on his own encumbered shores:
The starved mechanic breaks his rusting loom,
And desperate mans him ‘gainst the coming doom.
Then in the Senates of your sinking state
Show me the man whose counsels may have weight.
Vain is each voice where tones could once command;
E’en factions cease to charm a factious land:
Yet jarring sects convulse a sister Isle,
And light with maddening hands the mutual pile.

  “’Tis done, ’tis past—since Pallas warns in vain;
The Furies seize her abdicated reign:
Wide o’er the realm they wave their kindling brands,
And wring her vitals with their fiery hands.
But one convulsive struggle still remains,
And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wear her chains,
The bannered pomp of war, the glittering files,
O’er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;
The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,
That bid the foe defiance ere they come;
The hero bounding at his country’s call,
The glorious death that consecrates his fall,
Swell the young heart with visionary charms.
And bid it antedate the joys of arms.
But know, a lesson you may yet be taught,
With death alone are laurels cheaply bought;
Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,
His day of mercy is the day of fight.
But when the field is fought, the battle won,
Though drenched with gore, his woes are but begun:
His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name;
The slaughtered peasant and the ravished dame,
The rifled mansion and the foe-reaped field,
Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield.
Say with what eye along the distant down
Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?
How view the column of ascending flames
Shake his red shadow o’er the startled Thames?
Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was thine
That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine:
Now should they burst on thy devoted coast,
Go, ask thy ***** who deserves them most?
The law of Heaven and Earth is life for life,
And she who raised, in vain regrets, the strife.”
The days of our future stand in front of us
like a row of little lit candles --
golden, warm, and lively little candles.

The days past remain behind us,
a mournful line of extinguished candles;
the ones nearest are still smoking,
cold candles, melted, and bent.

I do not want to look at them; their form saddens me,
and it saddens me to recall their first light.
I look ahead at my lit candles.

I do not want to turn back, lest I see and shudder
at how fast the dark line lengthens,
at how fast the extinguished candles multiply.
Shazia ullah Dec 2015
Beauty vs beast

The petals of the rose
Draw all the attention away from the thorns
It is fascinating how a single flower can be so beautiful
Yet contain a hint of ugliness in it to
Just like the peacock
Which has a million stunning feathers on its tail
Drawing attention away from its feet
It saddens the peacock itself
When it compares its beauty to the deformity it contains
Nothing is perfect in this world
Dont expect it to be
If these beautiful creations contain imperfection
Remember somewhere we are also flawed
Kim Essary Nov 2018
As her words grab my heart with each and every message or poem I read,
It truly saddens me to be so far in distance, I can't offer her what she may need.
Never have I layed my eyes upon her, I can only Invision her beauty by her poems and words of wisdom.
Her soul sweet as the blooming flowers and heart as pure as gold.
It's as if her soul is that no less than angelic as she has touched many on this site and more.
What saddens me is soon she will no longer be with us as her illness is growing worse day by day,
My Dearest Kim Johanna Baker, there will be a sadness and void on this site and in my heart the day the Lord takes you away.
I hope that she may see this before it's her time to go, for when the other angels come for her I want for her to know.
The impact her sweet soul has left for all of us here on HP, some more than others , some of you like me.
So if you would or care to join me in my dedication to a very loving soul that makes this site so pleasurable, feel free to leave a comment below.
We love you our dear friend , our dear friend Kim!
Please feel free to repost this for the ones I don't know
Never met this wonderful lady but she has touched me and my life so dearly. Kim Johanna Baker
Alice Penny Jun 2010
It saddens me when there is no time for poems,
When life just gets in the way,
I will stop writing them for a while,
But I'll start again one day...
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018


~ ♡ ~

A
dark day
has befallen the
Court of Hello Poetry
How it saddens me to see
the good Queens and Kings
to suffer at the hands of jealous
enemies who seek to destroy others
and their Kingdoms. Though she was
exquisitely dressed, she had a humble
heart; many had a good word about her,
though I did not get to meet her, though I
did not see her,     I could see the light she
had shine in the hearts of others.        She
had a wonderful smile       but invaders;
false Kings and Queens        spewed
nothing but abuse,               and it
made      her      surrender
her crown

~ ♡ ~

I
could only
watch as she
grabbed the ends of
her silk skirts and run out
of the bustling halls, tears down
her soft face.     I could not reach
her but at the dawn,        from the
balcony,          I saw the ship sail
away,         towards the sunset
into the unknown.      How
my heart is so
heavy

~ ♡ ~

To
see a
true artist,
a true queen
leave forever. At
seeing her tears, her
crying soul staining the
floral marble floors, and the
invaders   feeling   satisfied   at
her    pain   and her 'destruction'
Those   who   dare   to  denounce
are   never  Kings  or   Queens.
To be so jealous, so insecure
and think you led her to
her 'destruction'

~ ♡ ~

I
will say
this - you may
have won the battle
but  you will NEVER
win the war. Because the
true   Kings and Queens will
band   together,  we  will  stand
together    to protect our haven  for
we see, we know who the true artists
are.  I will continue to shed tears of pain
and   sorrow for the loss of this artist,  but
I will always hope that when the sun rises
she   will return to us once more. She  will
never leave our minds, she has touched
so many hearts. Her legacy, her reign,
her   kingdom will always    stand
eternal, will stand immortal
now and always.

~ ♡ ~



Had to get the turmoil off my chest.
This one's for Vicki
Lyn ***
Umi  Mar 2018
The Pentagram
Umi Mar 2018
Holding a pen in hand, preparing pitch-black ink for a blank paper,
I begin with gentle, delicate movements, letting it slide over it.
One line follows another, one without any bother, any care to it.
A regular starshaped polygon, surrounded by a simple circle has been made, one which holds meaning to it, hidden underneath ink.
Some might gaze at it as a sign of a greater evil, heresy or worse,
Others might watch it in awe, a sign of protection a symbol of hope.
A maze with two ends has been made, each with its own belief.
However, my tired eyes, which have been worn, gaze at it and see beauty, the connection of each line contains grace, closed by the circle.
Thus a smile has been cast on my face, as I look at it another time,
Noticing how the black ink has taken the papers purity my cheering sight perishes, saddens in an instant, what I had drawn had become unrecognizable, as the paper spread the ink and distorted this image.
The broken in the light, moist and now fragile, drops through, in wonderous, ominous distraction, leaving a great hole in the middle.
Unable to be ever repaired the paper finds its trail into the trash,
A puddle left of what it was, mixed with the pitch black, had to be cleaned up, so that another attempt could be made, another try.
So I pick up my pen once again and connect the lines with a smile.

~ Umi
The Sun begins to rise as I lay here in bed,
Listening as these questions repeat in my head.
I know I should be sleeping
But I choose to listen instead.
Searching for an answer, but most are left unsaid.

Another sleepless night, as a new day begins.
These nights are becoming dreadful, as the days begin to blend.
If only I had answers, these questions would finally end.
But my thoughts are in tangles and my mind begins to bend.

Days become a struggle just to do the best I can.
I know I need your help, im reaching for your hand.
I heard that you were with me, even when I chose to sin.
If so, dear lord I ask,  rid my life of these troubles, lift me up again.

{ I know the sky's overhead are turning black now.
You can't walk anymore, you put your head down.
Kneeling in the mud as the rain falls all around.
With tired eyes, you look to the heavens for a way out. }

" Dear Lord I'm calling out your name!
I'm on my knees in the pouring rain!
Please lift me up, wash my sins away!
I cant hold the hand of the man I was
yesterday! ”

I thought I was dreaming when I saw the bright light.
Two hands lowering down upon me from somewhere in the sky
I watched in disbelief,  startled  by such a sight
As these great hands began to open, lifting me up high.

I feel your presence surround me.
Your hands lift me up with warmth all around me,
A sense of peace flows deep
within me, so gracefully.
As I'm carried away, I drift off to sleep.…

" Fear not my son as you open your eyes. "

A voice echoed within me so deep,
waking me in fright,
I blink a few times to clear the haze from my eyes.
I realize I’m on my knees in a room of pure white.

I was clean and dry, kneeling before an alter, no more than seven steps high.
Each step trimmed in gold,
Each step draped with light.

I notice a candle burning on the floor just a few feet away.
Its flame did not flutter, It burned with pure grace but this candle was giving  off a light of its own aswell, separate from its flame.

It looked red in color,
With a flame that was burning white.
It sat in a golden holder,
Etched clearly and beautifully, with my name on each side.

Astonished and thinking this had to be a dream,
A puddle of wax began to form on the floor underneath,
And In this puddle, I began to see.
Memories of my life playing
In the melted scenery .

After several minutes of silence, I looked up in fear..
And was shocked to see Jesus, the son of God standing above me in tears.

I asked him...

" Dear Lord, why cry over me?
I have spent life in sin as I saw in these scenes."

With eyes filled with sadness he looked down on me and in a deep, trembling voice he suddenly began to speak,

“ I love you my son and there is good in your heart. You asked for my help tonight because you were falling apart. It saddens me to watch as you live your life this way. If only you would call upon me more often, you would see better days. “

Suddenly with a jolt, I awoke in my bed.
Apparently it had been a dream,
I wasn't standing before the Lord and I wasn't dead.
I sat up and began to remember, as I wiped the sweat from my head .  
My heart was still pounding and my face was flushed red.

While thinking of the dream, I noticed a difference about this day.
I woke  up with no worries, no troubles or pain.
Realizing this was a blessing, a second  chance to change.
I hit my knees and with all my heart, I desperately began to pray.

"Dear lord, I thank you for your blood, your care and your tears. I see the importance of life now, my eyes are finally clear. I pray that you join me, right here by my side. I know my past was filled with regret, but back then I was blind. With your help, Dear Lord, I can make a new life. Together we can walk the path that leads  to your light. "


- Brandon K. Stephenson
A more detailed ...more intimate discription of an older poem of mine "The Path To The Light"
PEARL SMOKE Jun 2018
Scared Prt 1.
2014
iM Scared Of Losing What
iHave Left.
iM Scared Of Seeing What
iHave Left Go Away.
iM Scared Of Disappointing
My Loved Ones Again.
iM Scared Of Being Reminded
What the reality of Drugs.                        can do once again.
iM Scared iF iM Sober Then Fall
iWont Ever Change again
iM Scared The Drugs Can
Take over me Like it Has before
Once more.
Scared Of Feeling Numb And Live The Whole Drug Addiction Cycle all over.

Scared prt 2.

I Relapsed & Now I'm worried.
Will I Go back to my old ways?
As much as I desire The Feeling of escaping my reality,
I can't live Like that. I don't want to be a drug addict all over again.
The Feeling Is pleasant . The Living of being 1 Is Horrific.

Scared prt 3
2017
I’m scared
Of never finding hope
To believe my life has no worth
To never finding a light
To get lost in the
Darkness of my depression.
Im Scared
To never feel true happiness
To believe I have
No purpose in life.
To see I really don’t matter ..
I’m scared to prove
Myself right.
To really never start a life.
I’m scared to
Then lose my self again
To lonely nights with toxic touches

Scared prt 4

Be aware
I’m not scared like I used to be.
To lose  you, see you walk out.
Watch you leave & end us.
I have drugs.
To replace you,
Forget who you were
Erases our memories & best times.
Be aware
If you do me *****, I don’t care.
Drugs will always be there .
Il depend to forever not feel..
If you leave me, I won’t cry.
I have lines to get me past times.
So please know , I’m not scared.
To be left ,

Scared prt 5
2018

I’m Trapped.
I’m not ok , I’m not safe.
The habits creeping up.
Slowly but rapidly.
I believe I got it together.
I tell myself I got it under control.
But do I really?
Relapsing after 2yrs is making an impact.
I’ve been falling frequently.
For a short time but I’m still using .
It will take ahold of me unexpectedly.
Slowly convince me this Drug life’s worth risking .
I need help .
I look fine.
I haven’t used severely but my minds hyped.
Il Get To that level.
If I don’t reach out in time.
My thoughts are converting slow
I can feel the careless emotions growing.
That’s why I’ve found it so easy to use and get away with it.
“Just today” “it’s only alittle” “I can handle this”
That’s until I build up my tolerance.
Lord Help me .. you know il cause heartbreaks if I turn back to what I Once was..

Scared

I’m so scared.
To get played again .
To get lied and betrayed.
I’m scared of my reaction.
I know il die alive.
I won’t even have the strength to ****** you.
I’d be so broken and just let the world walk all over me.
If you Do me *****
I’d lose it completely.
You’d prove all my doubts correct.
Assumptions I already knew were true in my head.
If you play me, Id lose my head.
Literally, go insane due to confusion & hate.
If you hurt me.
Drugs is what I’m going to be out searching.
Not even ask for an explanation.
I’d be too focused walking straight ahead to my connects house.
If you do me shady.
I Will Be angry at the world.
Scream to the top of my lungs
“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS
I would drown myself in drugs.
I’d hate the world completely for hurting me when I’ve done none wrong.
I’d go So crazy.
How can I So Loyal Be Played With.
Etcetc can’t even write more

Scared prt 6

2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared prt 7.
I’m scared
To Relapse & Stay Stuck
To give up recovery
I’m scared to
Look at you and walk away forever.
To just not care wether you believed I truly loved you.
I’m scared
For my love to be trapped
For all My strength to be gone
Lose it all ,
I’m crying.
Addiction will forever live in me
Wether Active or Overcomed
This drug will Always come
Aslong as I’m Happy , Positive
I won’t want to take a hit
But Even if nothing’s going on
My body & mind will randomly itch.
Ive been walking with this for too long to just erase it .
To forget I had a habit .


Scared prt 8
Jan 2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared Part 9
Am I Fine.
Will I not rack a line.
Never touch a Rock in my life.

Am I Good.
Will I not Use again .
Will temptations not be seen as threats ?
Can I handle.
My urges to not Tweak again.
Will my triggers Be nothing to worry about?

Will I never feel tempted.
Have I finally over come every Obstacle of addiction?

I’m sorry.
I’ve worsen , I’m stuck once again.
This time it will be harder .
I’m a recovering addict
Stuck in a constant relapse Cycle.
What must I do
Should I sit & wait
On my next down fall ..

SCARED PRT 10

March 2018
I Didn’t notice.
Like always
I believed I had it all under control.
Everything was ok.
Everything seemed fine.
I felt normal,
I would stop soon.

I was Wrong ..
I Fell Down So quick.
I went hard.
No dubs or teeners.
I went straight to a Ball.
I just went all out.


I lost myself again.
I Lost control of the substance.
I Was trapped.
It became a problem.
One I wasn’t aware of.
I Had no recognition of at all.
I Didn’t see that I couldn’t stop.
I kept going
Kept using without seeing the frequency.
The days spent stuck.
I lost touch with reality.
This previous Relapse
Has been the worst in my life .
I haven’t had a binge like this time since 2015.
I used every day .
For 6 1/2 Weeks.
I lost track of the days & time.
I Sniffed & Smoked 2 8 ***** all to my self.

At the time I didn’t see how crazy that was.
Those weeks, an 8 didn’t surprise me.
The amount didn’t shock or Worry me.

I was fine , I had control.
I was doing ok , everything seemed & felt normal.
It was just a small relapse.


I was wrong
I lost touch with reality.
I formed a habit .
I was addicted again .

The sad part is
I’m able to acknowledge this Only through writing.
In real life , my denial mind
I’m able to handle my addiction. I’m ok & Dont have a problem.


It angers me.
Since my 1st Relapse
In August.
I’ve Fallen Very often.
It saddens me.
How I quickly Skipped
The Weight.
Why does it worry me?
My mind will no longer seek a Dub when I’m triggered to use.
It will want Another ball.

Anything less
My Addictive mind
no longer craves.
It now settles for Big.
This relapse has changed the game for my addict ways.
I’ve Relapsed every month
Since August.
I Had it all under control.
I Was able to use and stop.
Just this last time
I completely lost it.

Scared prt 11

I’m scared .
To lose my strength.
Have no durability.
To Give in So quick.
Be that weak
Where I don’t fear Tweak.
Find it easy
To just go seek.

I’m Worried
To reach that level .
Just Relapse constantly .
not care who Knows.
My problems
Have me overwhelmed.
Every day
The Stress grows .
I can’t bare another
Tug & Pull.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2014
the irises have passed,
their existence, entirety,
a three week, 21 day, gun salute,
to which I was witness to but an
abbreviated four short generational
days

the Kabbalist among us say Kaddish,
and a-Buddhist chants so-be-it,
both celebrating the brevity cycle
of natural things, both notating,
that death makes room for more

ugly yelloe'd and black now,
these irises are now
misfits on a breezy,
dancing summer lawn

today, shriveled and misshapen,
they compare and contrast
on a normative, glorious,
June Sunday that
picturesque presents
the living and the deceased,
side by side

all comrades,
all summer sundries
on a dancing grass blanket
half-graveyard battlefield,
the half-heaven

oft I have writ of the beach detritus,
the shells, the sun burnt *****,
a recycled funeral rectory where
no one utters prayers for the
no longer alive historical artifacts

what has this to do
with that human construct,
artifice of memory,
a string on the finger
of the mind,
a pausation, a man-made creation
to momentarily recall another of
nature's cycle -
your children

Have children.
Am a father.
Had a father in my youthful days.

this is a boy scout qualification medal,
marker of me as Expert,
permitting me to commentary
with gravitas, now that I’ve graduated
to grandfather status,
I enjoy superstar freedom
to opine inanely on such matters

of my father have I writ,
of my sons, those remain unseen,

likely neither will mark these day
with a telephone call
or an all-I-got-was-this-lousy-t shirt
gift of gall

I say that's ok for what else is there,
certainly not an unthinking, dismissive
whatever

it saddens me some for sure,
but it makes judge myself as human being
on a gradation of one to none

but more than this internal reflection,
I ponder this hallmark'd day,
as life cycle point notarized,
in verse and rhyme,
for that is what I do best

for before,
many father's day
in the priory passed,
most unrecallable,
just another ceremonial checkmark,
habitually acquitted,
but somewhere
in a drawer of shirts,
in a home I store stuff in,
I do believe, there are some cards
from decades past,
that prove nothing,
other than life goes on,
and we best capture
what we can, as best we can...
with small, objet d'art of sorts

Perhaps one will call after all...
in any event,
to honor the dead,
to mark the existing,
the bannered ship's bell rung,
its sonorous sound,
notable and onerous,
fades as well

but man and animal,
plant and tree,
a living fraternal sorority,
who all look over my shoulder
as I compose on
that Adirondack chair you
by now, we’ll acquainted

they know,
for whom the bell tolls this day,
and why as well,
as we all pause and contemplate
where we are on this day,
on our own overlapping cycles
nowadays I get a ten second video of a happy father’s day wish
Danielle Rose Dec 2012
Compound eyes
Astonishing spectacles
Clairvoyant views from above
Wings glistening in the light of the sun

Buzzing long bodied mystical stories
Dragon's breath of spiritual eloquence
Releasing the bugs eating away at conscience
Skeletal spine of an egoless monk
whispering harmoniously the simple remedies
of cleansing thought

My snake doctor
Quick witted unmasker
your view 360 degrees
Focusing on the movement
and pesky mosquitos that feast
That leave us scratching our heads

I look on so enviously
at Lady Dragonfly
as she hovers angelically
In an eternal sky

It saddens me that the great one's lives are
always cut too short
but her legend lives on timelessly
Dating way back to Permian    period
Jawad May 2017
Nothing saddens my heart more
Than a dog who eats my poem
And a tree that is burned down
And a cog that does not turn

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than a book that is sold cheap
And a cousin that is hurt
From the roof eager to leap

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than the earth so full of trash
And myself who is asleep
While the years moving like flash
In case you are wondering about the odd title and the unrelated lines in this poem: in the last day of National Poetry Month (NPM), valerie asks us to reuse lines from the different poems we wrote during the NPM. The result of this exercise was this poem that is like Frankenstein's Creature, a freak. If you want to know from were the different limbs (ideas) in this poem came from, please read my other poems.

Confession: I didn't use exact lines but only the topics that I was talking about in the other poems.

Here is the link to the last prompt in the NPM:
https://hellopoetry.com/blog/entry/npm-end-of-the-month/

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