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Whispering to each handhold, "I'll be back,"
I go up the cliff in the dark. One place
I loosen a rock and listen a long time
till it hits, faint in the gulf, but the rush
of the torrent almost drowns it out, and the wind --
I almost forgot the wind: it tears at your side
or it waits and then buffets; you sag outward...

I remember they said it would be hard. I scramble
by luck into a little pocket out of
the wind and begin to beat on the stones
with my scratched numb hands, rocking back and forth
in silent laughter there in the dark--
"Made it again!" Oh how I love this climb!
-- the whispering to the stones, the drag, the weight
as your muscles crack and ease on, working
right. They are back there, discontent,
waiting to be driven forth. I pound
on the earth, riding the earth past the stars:
"Made it again! Made it again!"
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
the state or quality of being elastic.
flexibility; resilience; adaptability: a statement with a great elasticity of meaning.
buoyancy; ability to resist or overcome depression.
Physics. the property of a substance that enables it to change its length, volume, or shape in direct response to a force effecting such a change and to recover its original form upon the removal of the force.

are you ready?
here it comes!

Slap!

having slapped you
with, to kind attention,
you may now recover
your original form,
when there was
no grief, no distress,
the great clarity
of eying the day's birth,
sweetly and innocently.

once again, you are
buoyant,
molecules of polluted memories,
erased.
wind scattered, gone,
blackboard erased,
whiteboard replaced.

you have been reminded,
even reprimanded,
for forgetting your
elasticity.

life, what ever that be,
is constant motion,
a reshaping of the heart,
for the heart has
no unique shape.
it's adaptation,
it's elasticity,
it's genetic forgive and forget ability,
is legend, is you,

you are legend,

You are elastic.

the human hallmark impressed
in the palms of your hands,
that cannot be erased
by time, fatigue, failure, or anger,
the hands that mold,
re-form for every need,
for every handhold,
for different are:

The hands that open closed fists
The hands that wave hi
The hands that are first to touch
and the last to leave,
waving goodbye,
elastic - tender when tender needed,
strong when strength essences.

so be elastic,
remember to be
ecstatic
remember
when you do,
you need show proofs.

Prove it to me.
Prove it to yourself.

shake, kiss, dare hug,
the one who needs reminding
that life is elastic,
*even more than you.
5:08 am
Dec. 26th, 2013

corny...but...
Mackenzie Downs Jun 2019
Have you even been rock climbing, and you lose your grip.
That’s what heartbreak feels like.
One second you’re focused on your goal, one hand in front of the other, and the next, you’re falling.
Reaching for the hand hold, holding it in your grasp, then you just...slip.
You’re falling backwards, hand outstretched reaching for the handhold that was supposed to hold you up and keep you from falling, the handhold that was just there, but it’s only getting farther away.
You feel like you’re falling in slow motion.
The rope is going to catch you, but you’re not thinking about that right now. You’re thinking about that handhold you had in your grasp, but just...lost.
Or maybe you saw it coming. Maybe your arms and legs are aching from the exhaustion of carrying on for so, so long.
You’re carrying the weight of things left unsaid, or worse, things said that can’t be taken back.
Insecurities, problems without solutions, the things weighing you down weigh hundreds of pounds. And finally, limbs shaking, fingers aching, all your fight in you gone, you collapse under the weight.
And despite everything...despite all that work, despite all the blood, sweat, and tears, it’s all over. You couldn’t make it.
Despite the fact that you gave it every ounce of strength you had in your body.
It’s just another heartbreak.
Devon Leonel Jan 2014
Halfway up the cliff face
That's as far as I've ever gone
Because halfway up the cliff face
Is where the easy route ends

The only way forward beyond this point
A daring leap to the next handhold
Abandoning the safety of the ledge under my feet
Taking a chance

Other climbers have made their way past
Taken the leap and kept climbing upward
And others have scrabbled at the wall, just short
Falling away to God knows where

How easy to say to each one who comes by
"The climb has been pretty easy so far
I could make the jump if I wanted to
But I'm good here, thanks"

Celebrated for climbing as far as I have
Lauded for doing it with such ease
That's enough for me
Isn't it?

Refusing to jump means I won't ever fall
But I won't ever get anywhere, either
What's up there, anyway? Curiosity
Is starting to get to me

My muscles have gotten cold
I've been sitting here far too long
I try and shake the stiffness out
It's time to move forward

That handhold up there seems awful small
I'm not so sure I have what it takes
To make the jump anymore
But I'll never know if I don't try

Catch or fall I will hold my head high
Knowing I gave it everything
I crouch, taking a deep breath
There's no going back

Muscles explode into motion
Propelling me upward
And I stretch, reaching
For the next hold
pitch black god8 May 2019
~

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods
5:29am April 24th
Aiden Williams  Aug 2013
Miyagi
Aiden Williams Aug 2013
Miyagi

Deep inside the recesses of my mind,
My many thoughts lay dormant  --
Unwilling to be heard;
My precious thoughts, they're blurred.
Numb to reality,
Gums hit with a needle.
My feelings I cannot express,
My words they find no footing,
A limitless climb of rhythm and rhyme,
Where a handhold at one means to elevate my purpose,
And a handhold at two means to obscure my view,
Of not just the handholds, shrouded by fog
But of the view of the mountain, hidden by the gods.

Self protected thoughts within a shrine, within a castle, never to be revered, never to be revealed.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2014
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




a little straight slip of a thing,
red, a quartier inch wide,
red, a quartier inch thin,
suggestive, inquisitive,
a political and philosophical,
lovely provocation to conjecture

as if it were a colored arrow,
pointing strangely down,
instead of up,
to the next handhold
on a rock climbing wall,
in this case,
handholds on a
woman's body

this way,
follow me,
to the barricades!
a tourist mapped-path to follow,
visit the glories of the republic,^
and the charming Quartier Latin!

entrap and entice,
the eyes willful blinded,
taken away to thoughtful solitary,
on-one-side-only,
does the
bra strap
conveniently,
consciously,
haphazardly,
(yes, that's it,
a hazard,)
invitingly, speaks to,
looks to me,
inquiring will you vote,
RSVP to red?

as if a line of lipstick on the body drawn,
the directive points,
this way, perhaps,
always, just perhaps,
this way tourist,
to the dome of the pantheon,
where the statutes
are the course,
or perhaps
disguised, well-placed, statuesque, (ha!),
improvised explosive devices,
purposely presented,
needy for a desired
psychological high impact detonation

If
that is its purpose
under heaven,
under sweater,
under halter,
under cutoff gym top,
under liberty,
to tempt and remove
the blindfold from the womanly scales of
under justice
to tilt him favorably one way

If
it, is theater,
I, the audience

then whatever is on stage,
(Ibsen's Doll House, ironie délicieuse)
is a failed distraction, naught to naughty,
to no avail,
his eyes fastened, stapled wide
to the quarter inch thin
red path
from her slender shoulder,
leading, stepping him ****** down to
his I-magination,
for which unknowingly,
he, ticket purchased,
months ago for
two hours and one intermission

He must go again,
the show was
superbly acted,
for so the reviews said,
Ibsen's play,
"an unremitting portrayal of the suffering of a women"





^republic ~ a state in which the power rests in the body,
of those entitled to vote, exercised by their representatives, their eyes, chosen directly by and for them.
A synthesis, a hybrid of recent actual adventures and thoughts in, on and about Ibsen's Doll House, rock climbing, Paris, and the exposed solitary bra strap, not in that order.
I cannot feel my legs and my mind is numb
I refuse to hear your breath and my mouth is dumb
I can feel your hands, but I am not here
For I have gone away now

Away, to where you cannot find me, the real me
To a place where i finally feel safe, where i can be alive.

I have switched off my soul to survive this place
My flesh is detached and floats away from my face
I can sense your thrusts, in a different world
You may touch my body, not me.

me, that was a long time ago, before
Before the monster that paid a visit at night.
Now look inside me, and see the curdled mother's milk
that courses through my veins.
Twisted molecules of white, distorting purity of thought.

Do you really know how you destroyed my life
With your fatherly tone and that emotional knife
Held up to the heart of a vulnerable girl
Oh, how I wish I were dead

and yet, part of me is, for some of my life is over
Bud plucked, never to bloom the flower of unbridled youth

The black hole of the past pulls me back to those arms
I struggled so hard against those paternal charms
Alas, what chance a girl, who loved daddy so much
Please make my pain go away.

But it won't, deep inside, under granite blocks of hate
Hate for you and hate for me, how did we let this happen?

Grown up now, and struggling to cope
Life seems so hard I often have no hope
it all looks so black, here within my soul
Oh, to wipe the slate clean.

A vehicle of love used as a weapon of betrayal
How sick we all must be!

Half  forgotten memories jump out of  my mind
Oh how they came, and when you were so kind
Couldn't you see how tormented I was
God help me, for no one else will.

Time does not heal my angst, nor will it ever
You and you, father and friend will you ever comprehend?

Chameleon colours play a role in my life
Artificial boundaries, coping with strife
keep out tomorrow and push away the past
but somehow today sneaks on in.

i have left my body now, detached, flying away to safety
All males left behind, good and bad, partitioned off

Even as I ignore it, the past comes right back
biding its time for a surprise attack
How can I cope with this onslaught of love
So get out of my life right now.

The past, the past, those nights, oh revulsion, oh confusion
Lust, love, like, remorse, pain, a wailing cacophany of lost childhood.

I attempt to embrace a man, maturity found
But I lose my nerve, looks like dangerous ground
An immense struggle for a girl so fragmented
Can I ever become whole?

I wear my clothes, loose around my body
Passion and pain walled off from prying eyes.

Alone, am I sentenced to spend my life alone
for who will throw this dog an intimate bone ?
I need the courage to embrace my shadows
oh please help me face the past.

The light of your affections just cannot reach my soul, deep inside
The escape velocity of my sanity is not enough

I so want to let go, have my feelings reign free
Yet I can't, for the hurt residing deep within me
Imagine, for a minute, the cross that I bear
No wonder, I stay out of sight.

You see, i only feel connected when i am alone and safe
Yet i so yearn to love and be loved, vulnerable.

Finally, today I held you tight and felt your manhood
and it did not remind me of my childhood
Agony past and pain retreated
Will this last forever I ask?

Those boundaries that were so cruelly invaded
by one who said "I love you",  left me exposed.

So brick by brick I built up my self esteem
Self confidence at last, but is it all a dream
Open my eyes, will this all fade away
swept off on the winds of self doubt.

One step at a time, out from the abyss, that cave of betrayal
I will hold this moment tightly and treasure it.
Dare I believe in this place called trust?
A handhold hacked in the rockface of my tortured mind
Will it bear the weight of tomorrow's reality?
I can only  hope the silver thread that pulls me up
shall guide me forever forward
away from that sickness of him who is left behind.
I am a survivor and I shall reach the summit
of life's possibilities, although I have to tell you
Base camp did not help my journey!
Connor Sep 2015
Day debt
night wept
sleep crept
Attachment.
                       Where is my attachment?
                                evening out of balance
                                        The line of my life has broken
                                                  off into separate identities
Flower feather
Hollow weather
Moonlight Canyon
                                      Skylight childhood nostalgia
                                      Stolen star
Battered cheekbones
Of weary workers keeping to
The hornet's nest
                      Reality a constant terror
                     Of city structures                         swallowing
                                                      ­                             them whole.
Blackbird rests
on an Autumn branch of
hidden meadow
checking its wristwatch obsessively for the
             Hydrogen Volcano
                INEVITABLE.
                                         Termite Corporations
                                          Cavernous Hilltops
                                        All that green is gold
(A straw man in Byzantine robes approaches
            the frosty Manhattan
    to become a relic in it's Libraries)
                         People fall in Love with coincidence,
                 (The illusion of order beyond our field or reach)
        All that love is kept in a
                    Conservatory somewhere...
                          Glossy stems connected to palpitating blossoms.

Our tired eyes are focused to the asphalt confluence
whether fever or handhold.

               Hymns ring throughout the forests of
                                                   Vancouver Island
               Dreamers hang from the Niagara Trestle caught in                
                                                   overwhelming sunlight
                                                        ­ Doused in spirit.

Holy Melancholic September
Sweeps away the dusty Summer,
                                                        e­verything seems renewed
                                                        I­n the rain..
Bella Isaacs Jul 16
I've said some bold words in my time -
Made tragedies of pantomime.
I've kissed some morons in my day -
Too young I thought I'll lose the hay.

I lived as the greatest lover
(Or the most pathetic, rather) -
Mad walks in the rain and letters
Oft took judgement from my betters,

Let's add to the pile morn roses,
Bookshop rushes ere it closes,
Philosophy and late night talks,
And still more mad, but sunny, walks,

Journeys on the train to Glasgow,
Two tickets to Panic!'s last show,
Bekhôled reading Thomas Hardy,
Sapphires costing a fair farthing,

And now, and then, in your study,
I'd be your debating buddy,
Then your patient, then a girl:
An embrace set you in a whirl.

Our first kiss was in tears, my love,
Our confession was at a shove,
Our first handhold was without hope,
You always said we had no scope -

And yet you'd loved me, lover mine,
Or begged for it upon my shrine,
Conceived it in my breast of stone -
You conquered, and I lost, and won.

I never spoke more equally
With any man, but now my plea
Falls down on your attentive ears
As would a rusted pair of shears.

I do not mean to **** you, love,
I meant to raise you up above
The idol that my head construed -
I've held you, never rough or rude

As loving is, but passionate
And real and true, and I, to date,
Have never felt more like a queen
Than in our kisses, sweet and keen.

And all my verses do abuse
This love of mine - I have no ruse
For I am rendered dumb by you,
And know no truth but in your view.

Sweet Uiginn's son, whom I must meet,
Swept sev'ral times from off my feet
But never truly, only now -
Why say you "No", and ask not "How?"?
Riley Mar 2014
I've spent the past decade
And then some
Drowning.
I'm curled fetaly,
Cradling the anchor seared
Against this inside of my ribs.

I've managed to keep my head
Above the waves,
Even with a tempest
Crashing,
Beating,
Breaking,
Forcing
It's
Way
Into
My
Lun­gs,
If only just barely.

There have been so many
Failed lifelines,
False shore sightings,
Ghost ships burning bright on the horizon.
But I continue to tread water,
Resigning myself to a life of chocking.

One day you floated by,
Quietly in time with the sunrise,
And I felt lighter
Simply from your proximity.
You stayed a while,
And as hours passed
I felt myself falling for you.
You reached your hand out,
Gave me a lifeline,
Gave me a handhold
With you.

Whispered promises
In the middle of the night,
Hushed attempts to cease my crying,
To assure me you wouldn't let me sink,
Even as I screamed at you
To let me go
In the midst of the thrall.
I pushed you away,
Fervent in the desire
To save you,
To get you to the eye,
So I could drown guiltless.


k.f.
Title from the song Swimmingpool by The Front Bottoms
The grass is always greener
As far as you can see
but you always sit there whining
Why him and why not me?

A better job a better life
A better house and car
You know just what you have to do
If you're gonna get that far

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

Nothing is a given
You rarely move on up by chance
You've got to get a handhold
Go grab life by the pants

Just sitting waiting idly
Never gets the job done well
You can not sit and listen
You have to ring that bell

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

One who sits and wonders
Why someone else gets all the fame
Has never tried to leave the bench
And get into the game

Stay hungry, do your damndest
Do not strive for second place
But, if you don't move at the starters gun
You're not even in the race

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

— The End —