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Akemi Aug 2019
at its own axiomatic level
we begin a dance
a dance
a dance
and there are shades



fly off from the other?

a spindle
a
a

fly



difference
we make ourselves a difference
a complexity
an intricate form that spills over and everywhere
and is alive
apart from itself
as if this difference making
were for itself, for our own ego
rather than to pull the other
the other’s difference
pointlessly intricate
motionful machines that well up beyond their own depths and
but the content



a meaningful making
and on and on and
drives



turns on it urns iand urns un n uwuw uwuw uwuuwu wuuwuwuwuwuuwuw



the measure of a drop
is in



everyone dances in their own light



what if satire is all you see!



everything ive ever wanted to say 12 yr old has already fallen out a tree



everybody hold themselves so high and precious
but their own being is only meagre pitiful one space arrow
e


there is a being
that we strive for
but only ourselves feel
and only others know
yet so many want the other to feel
what they can only know

come grieff and grief and grif



i dont get why anyone cares
we do what we do
and it stupid

why you wanna
let the other in ?

only reason u think they smart
is they aint let u in

so i says let em be  .



everyone all love precarity
cant love themselves
sothey strike out when the other they want to love them for themselves dont love them for themselves

thats an impossibility !



FRAGILE PEOPLE
PRETENDING THEY’RE NOT
BaM BAM!

whys all the
positivity
make all lie and
die

why do you care so much about yourself
that you desire the other to see?
you are meagre
you are petty
and that’s all you are.

resentment is thinking otherwise.

nobody cares about your drives!!!!!!!!!!
and the more you think they should
the more they wont!!!!!!!!!!!silly!!!!!!!!!
the togetherness of not-

let people sweep and slide
then drift n loop!



everoy !
neurotic big
weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee



t­hen why are peopplr loenly?



cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light

cherished being in a bridge of light



its own singular yearning
pulls back
the body of marx
and the whole black moon



black moon! black moon!

howls the end
howls the night
simpering spat spat spat spatchooey! cross yarn and tip a spews the thunder
and the back back back of
no where
curses like a shut down whine



are you perfectly everywhere not
this is the only series of questions
in philosophy senpai desu desu bakkkooou!!
goodbue canafly
canadabaaaeee
canadeeee
Our heart burns broken at the ends, they fail us, keep building
my lungs are wax inside my ribs, you’re burning, well I’m breathing
this back breaks walked on from carrying friends, can’t stop now, still working
your life’s like rain drops on my tongue, I believe you, keep raining
and it’s alright, it’s alright, we are not right now complete
and I’m alright, you’re gonna be alright, we might never be complete
but the water keeps rising, it’s rising, everybody get into the water
and hold each others hands and lives, let’s all push our hearts together....
we’re gonna leave these shores right now, be everything we’ve never been
but you gotta swear to promise that we’ll never go back again, ever again
and we’re not just islands lying beside each others shorelines
we’re all bound with veins and hopes, we are not each others ghosts
our hearts are abridged, let's build bridges to each other
so this river won’t take us under
filled with monsters and goblins, they keep dragging the bottom
our life is a bridge, let’s build bridges to each other
and pray we don’t go under, oh these careless waters

I’m trying not to confuse: being used, with giving all I am
by: being used, and giving everything I have, all I am
so I’ll build a bridge with hollow bones filled with hollow teeth
inside a hollow heart, with the insides carved
and let the blood in these veins freeze
let the water in these veins freeze and break and flood the dam
we are all we have, this is all we need, hold on it may never end
and I might have to drink my teeth again if I wash up on the coast
so I’ll build a bridge with all that’s left, & not make any more new ghosts
show me your life, wide and bright, I hope that patience fills the seams
keep what’s inside, dry and right, you arch the frame I’ll span the beams
our lives are a bridge for us to give, I want to build a better bridge
from every wrong we’ve done to each other, if I forgive will you forgive?
cause one day we’re gonna close our eyes for death or rest
and abandon ourself, this weak mind and breath
and the columns we made, and roots we grew down deep
will be pulled and gathered in to firewood, and burnt for heat
but when the tension shifts, and these braces turn
I’ll try and build a better bridge
and when all our piers burn, and the hinges miss
I’m gonna build a better bridge
our hearts are abridged, let’s build bridges to each other
so we don’t take ourselves under

Our heart burns broken at the ends, they fail us, keep building
my lungs are wax inside my ribs, you’re burning, I’m still breathing
this back breaks walked on carry friends, can’t stop now, still working
your life’s like rain drops on my tongue, I believe you, keep raining
our lives are a bridge for us to give, I want to build a better bridge
from every wrong we’ve done to each other, if I forgive will you forgive?
our hearts are abridged, let’s build bridges to each other
so this river won’t take us under, so we don’t take ourselves under
our lives are a bridge, let’s build bridges to each other
and pray we don’t go under, oh these careless waters
our lives are a bridge for us to give, I want to build a better bridge
from every wrong we’ve done to each other, if I forgive will you forgive?
our lives are a bridge for us to give, I want to build a better bridge
from every wrong we’ve done to each other, if I forgive will you forgive?
our hearts are abridged, let’s build bridges to each other
so this river won’t take us under, so we don’t take ourselves under
Morning Star  Aug 2016
Our bridge
Morning Star Aug 2016
Our Bridge.


Into darkness once again but now it's different 

Because I've learnt to fall a little way

See a little of what went before but never be dragged with in its claw

As now a bridge I see is there it's wobbly yes but still secure

It's made of rope, it swings and rocks 

Even if  I let go it holds me firm

So I can see what lies beneath 

But never again will I fall so deep

For now I choose if I let go 

You see I built a bridge I know

I'm still aware of the void beneath, the loss , the pain, the endless sleep, the fear

But now i can choose to look I can choose to see or even feel

But never again can I fall in

You see

 as I built a bridge for my child within

She cannot live in fear now 

She has my love tied in its secure enough to hold us both 

Entwined together our bridge

Is love

Yes the void is deep and dark 

But the fear has gone now the bridge is there it's so strong it can not break 

You see its made from strength I found one day 

It was buried inside too scared to try to scared to climb

But as an adult I entwined it with love it grew

Now my child has the strength to climb 

She is with me now safe and dry 

She does not need to hide or cry or remember the fear

She only has to walk along side me holding my hand ever so tightly 

The love I have for her is the bridge that can never break it's strong and yet it can swing so we still get to have childish fun 

it has beautiful flowers it has strong arms it can lift us up so high 

It's our bridge so high above 

Above the fall 

The past is left the pain has gone

The fear is dropped into the void as its to heavy for our bridge 

but the happy memories fly with us above 

All we have to do is walk along our bridge.

Yes this time it's different I can only look over and down but I cannot fall now as fear has gone and our love is one me and my little girl 

Our bridge

By Fallen Angel 

19th February 2016
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
A Burner on the Bridge

A burner on the bridge.  A human burns,
Trapped in technology and beer and fire
We hear the cold dispatch, the desperate call
To go, to see, to mend, if possible
We drive.  The flashers, blue and red, rotate
In the startled faces of those we pass
At speed, Hail Mary speed, surreal speed
Time, motion, space, and light obscure the night

In a pattern tail lights wink dim, then bright
Stalled traffic makes a long glowworm in reds
Boats, trailers, trucks, tankers, Volkswagens, Fords,
People in shorts drift around, slug Cokes, laugh
Unshaven men smoke cigarettes and swear
Blue-haired killers in Chrysler New Yorkers
Blink blankly through bifocals in the glare
Of flashers and flashlights, flares and taillights.
A burner on the bridge.  A Human burns.

We drive slowly through the curious crowds
Who mill about and stare and point and laugh
They consider a charred corpse fair reward
For being delayed on their trip home from the lake
When they ‘rive home they’ll hoist stories and yip:
“I was there; I seen it, man; it was gross!”
But some already are anxious to go
They honk, and pop a top, and cuss the cops.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

Below the bridge, old, silent water lurks
Oozing warmly, fetidly, in its drift
Slithering blackly in the warm spring night
A silent observer of fire and death
A carrier of beer cans and debris,
Radiator coolant, plastic, and blood
Concrete pylons pounded into the mud
Where once were trees.  And now the water sees
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

The bridge is an altar.  The wreckages
Are vessels sacred to our gods, the dead
Are sacrifices to our gods, an incense of death
Our offering is broken flesh, and blood:
“The is my body, burnt on this spring night;
This is my blood, shed on the center stripe.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

A shapeless hat among the smoking ash,
Old clothes, a shoe, cans of beer, fishing lures:
The sad trifles and trinkets of the dead
Now, firemen in their yellow rubber suits
Climb slowly through the tortured, broken steels
And gently stow a man into a bag
Ashes and smoke, green radiator fluid
The old river flows, wherever it goes.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.

Hours later: coffee at the Dairy Queen
High school baseball players yelp cheerfully as
They wreck fast cars in a video game.
Under the fluorescents, the flashers seem
Still to turn, endlessly turn, in the night
Hamburgers, possibly char-broiled, are gulped
Sloppily, laughingly, as cleated feet
And deep-fried breath cheer a video death.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.

A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.
KMD  Oct 2016
The Bridge
KMD Oct 2016
Right now I am on this strange bridge.
A bridge in between adolescence and adulthood.
The bridge is long, but I walk fast.
Even when I demand my feet to slow down, they keep moving forward with a quickened and frightened pace,
as if they were being chased, but they are not.
You see, no one is on the bridge but me.
And that makes me lonely.
I have friends on both sides of the bridge,
but they don't seem to walk with me.
So I walk by myself.
Sometimes when the loneliness becomes too much to bare,
I turn around to look at where I came from.,
to make my heart warm with the memories.
With just one turn of my head I can hear my Dad's voice on Christmas morning, yelling that Santa came.
I can remember the satisfaction of running through the sprinkler on a warm September school night.
I can taste the hot chocolate marshmallows on my lips, the way it warmed my body on the first snow day of the year.
I can feel the grass underneath my bare feet as I weave in and out of laundry hung up on a line.
I can see the fireworks light up the July night sky as I lay on a riverbank with my best friends.
I can hear James Taylor's sweet voice flow freely though the kitchen as my mom makes dinner.
And I can remember, I can so vividly remember how it feels to lay down at night knowing that on the other side of my poster plastered bedroom wall, were people who would always and fervently protect me.
How infinite I thought those feelings would be.
But most times I can not afford to look back for long.
I must keep walking, so I turn and face the other side of the bridge.
I have no memories there.
Only my own fears,
My own expectations.
My own hopes.
I imagine what that side will look like.
A good job. Bills, savings. Responsibility.
A swanky city apartment, plane tickets to pretty places.
Wanting to make some difference but not quite knowing how.
Phone calls to catch up.
Visits twice a year.
A nice boy, a happy girl.
Something blue, something borrowed.
More mouths to feed, more souls to love.
Coffee and wrinkles.
Fighting to stay in love.
Fighting to stay alive.
These thoughts overwhelm me.
Thinking of the other side places a weighted and anxious ball in the pit of my gut.
So today instead of looking back and instead of looking forward, I choose to look down.
I see the wooden beams of the bridge, smooth and nailed carefully together.
Through the cracks of the wood I notice the raging river below.
The water looks so cold. The movement looks so violent.
I am overcome with a feeling of relief that I am not in the river.
I notice again the wooden beams of the bridge, constructed so carefully.
I bend my knees and my feet feel the sturdiness of the bridge.
I can't help but smile.
And for the first time since I have been on the bridge,
I feel so overwhelmingly thankful that I even have a bridge at all,
that I have something to walk on during this journey.
I guess sometimes it takes looking down,
to realize what's lifting you up.
Stephan Cotton May 2017
Another shift, another day, Another buck to spend or save
A million riders, maybe more, delivered to their office door
Or maybe warehouse maybe store.
Or church or shul or city school, right on time as a rule.

Clickety, clackety, clickety, clee,
I am New York, the City’s me
Come let me ride you on my knee
From Coney Isle to Pelham Bay
From Bronx to Queens eight times a day.

Ride my trains, New Yorkers do
And you’ll learn a thing or two
About the City up above, the one some hate, the one some love.
On the street they work like elves
Down below they’re just themselves.

Through summer’s heat they still submerge,
Tempers held (though always on the verge),
They push, they shove – just like above –
The crowds will jostle, then finally merge.

Downtown to work and then back to sleep
They travel just like farm-herded sheep.
In through this gate and out the other,
Give up a seat to a child and mother,
Just don’t sit too close to that unruly creep!

With these crowds huddled near
Just ride my trains with open ear,
There’s lots of tales for you to hear.


Dis stop is 86th Street, change for da numbah 4 and 5 trains.  Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.   77th Street is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     I’m Doctor Z, Doctor Z are me
     I’ll fix your face or the visit’s free.
     Plastic surgery, nips and tucks
     You’ll be looking like a million bucks.

     Looka those pitchas, ain’t they hot?
     You’ll look good, too, like as not!
     Just call my numbah, free of toll
     Why should you look like an ugly troll?

     You’ll be lookin good like a rapster
     Folks start stealing your tunes on Napster
     Guys’ll love ya, dig your face
     Why keep lookin like sucha disgrace?

     Call me up, you’re glad you did
     Ugly skin you’ll soon be rid.
     Amex, Visa, Mastercard,
     Payment plans that ain’t so hard.

     So don’t forget, pick up that phone
     Soon’s you get yourself back home.
     I’ll have you looking good, one, two three
     Or else my name ain’t Doctor Z.


Dis stop is 77th Street, 68th Street Huntah College is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     It was a limo, now it’s the train;
     Tomorrow’s sunshine, but now it’s rain.
     The market’s mine, for taking and giving
     It’s the way I earn my living.

     Today’s losses, last week’s gain.
     A day of pleasure, months of pain.
     We sold the puts and bought the calls;
     We loaded up on each and all.

     I’ve seen it all, from Fear to Greed,
     Good motivators, they are, both.
     The fundamentals I try to heed
     Run your gains and avoid big loss.

     Rates are down, I bought the banks
     For easy credit, they should give thanks.
     Goldman, Citi, even Chase
     Why are they still in their malaise?

     “The techs are drek,” I heard him say
     But bought more of them, anyway.
     I rode the bull, I’ll tame the bear
     I’ll scream and curse and pull my hair.

     So why continue though I’m such a ****?
     I’ll cut my loss if I find honest work.



Dis is 68th Street Huntah College, 59th Street is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     He rides the train from near to far,
     In and out of every car.
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Some folks buy them, most do not,
     Are they stolen, are they hot?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”

     Who would by them, even a buck?
     What’re the odds they’re dead as a duck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Why not the Lotto, try your luck,
     Or are you gonna be this guy’s schmuck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”


Dis is 59th Street, change for de 4 and 5 Express and for de N and de R, use yer Metrocard at sixty toid street for da F train.  51st Street is next. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     “Dat guy kips ****** wit me, Wass he
     tink, I got time for dat ****?  Man, I
     got my wuk to do, I ain gona put
     up with him
     no more.”

          “I don’t know what to tell this dude. Like,
          I really dig him but
          ***?  No way.  And
          He’s getting all too smoochie face.”

     “Right on, bro, slap dat fool up
     side his head, he leave you lone.”

          “Whoa, send him my way.  When’s the last
          time I got laid?  I’m way ready.”

          “Oh, Suzie,..”


Dis is fifty foist Street, 42nd Street Grand Central is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.



     Abogados es su amigos, do you believe the sign?
     Are they really a friend of mine?
     Find your lawyer on the train
     He’ll sue if the docs ***** up your brain.

     Pick a lawyer from this ad
     (I’m sure that you’ll be really glad)
     You’ll get a lawyer for your suit,
     Mean and nasty, not so cute.

     Call to live in this great nation
     1-800-IMMIGRATION.
     Or if your bills got you in a rut
     1-800-BANK-RUPT.

     We’re just three guys from Flatbush, Queens
     Who’ll sue that ******* out of his jeans.
     Mama’s proud when she rides this train
     To see my sign making so much rain.

     No SEC no corporations
     We can’t find the United Nations.
     Just give us torts and auto wrecks
     And clients with braces on their necks.

     Hurting when you do your chores?
     There’s money in that back of yours.
     Let us be your friend in courts
     Call 1-800-SUE 4 TORTS.


Dis is 42nd Street, Grand Central, change for the 4, 5 and 7 trains. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Toity toid is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


They say there’s sev’ral million a day
From out in the ‘burbs, they pass this way.
Most come to work, some for to play
They all want to talk, with little to say.

Bumping and shoving, knocking folks down
A million people running around.
The hustle, the bustle the noise that’s so loud
Get me far from this madding crowd.

“We can be shopping instead of just stopping
And onto the next outbound train we go hopping.
Hey, it’s a feel that that guy’s a-copping!”

They want gourmet food, from steaks down to greens
Or neckties and suits, or casual jeans,
It’s not simply newspapers and magazines
For old people, young people, even for teens.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Thoidy toid Street, twenty eight is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “So what’s the backup plan if
     He doesn’t get into Trevor Day?
     I know your
     heart’s set on it, but we’ve only
     got so many strings we
     can pull, and we can’t donate a
     ******* building.”

           “Hooda believed me if I tolja the Mets
          would sail tru and the Yanks get dere
          by da skinna dere nuts?
          I doan believe it myself.  Allya
          Gotta do is keep O’Neil playin hoit
          And keep Jeter off his game an
          We’ll killum.

               “My sistah tell me she be yo *****.  I tellya I cut you up if you
                ****** wid her, I be yo ***** and donchu fuggedit.”

     “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.
     And we can just **** good and
     Well find some more strings to pull!”

          “Big fuggin chance.  Wadder ya’ smokin?”

               “Yo sitah she ain my *****, you be my *****.  I doan be ******
                wid yo sistah.  You tell her she doan be goin round tellin folks
                dat ****.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Twenty eight Street, twenty toid is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     Do you speak Russian, French or Greek,
     We’ll assimilate you in a week.
     If Chinese is your native tongue
     You’ll speak good English from day one.

     Morning, noon, evening classes
     Part or full time, lads and lasses.
     You’ll be sounding like the masses
     With word and phrase that won’t abash us.

     Language is our stock in trade
     For us it’s how our living’s made.
     We’ll put you in a class tonight
     Soon your English’ll be out of sight.

     If you’re from Japan or Spain
     Basque or Polish, even Dane,
     Our courses put you in the main
     Stream without any need for pain.

     We’ll teach you all the latest idioms
     You’ll be speaking with perfidium.
     We’ll give you lots of proper grammar
     Traded for that sickle and hammer.

     Are you Italian, Deutsch or Swiss?
     With our classes you can’t miss
     The homogeneous amalgamation
     Of this sanitized Starbucks nation.


Dis is Twenty toid Street, 14th Street Union Square is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hate to bother you
     But things are bleak of late.
     I had a job and housing, too
     Before my little quirk of fate.”

     “There came a day, not long ago,
     When to my job I came.
     They handed me a pink slip, though,
     And ev’n misspelled my name.”

     “We’ve got three kids, my wife and me.
     We’re bringing them up right.
     They’re still in school from eight to three
     With homework every night.”

     “I won’t let them see me begging here,
     They think I go to work.
     Still to that job I held so dear
     Until fate’s awful quirk.”

     “So help us now, a little, please
     A quarter, dime (or dollar still better),
     It’ll go so far to help to ease
     The chill of this cold winter weather.”

     “I’ll walk the car now, hat in hand
     I do so hope you understand
     I’m really a proud, hard working man
     Whose life just slipped out of its plan.”

     “I thank you, you’ve all been oh so grand.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is 14th Street, Union Square, change for da 4 and 5 Express, the N and the R.   Astor Place is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The hours are long, the pay’s no good
     I’m far from home and neighborhood.
     All day I work at Astor Place
     With sunshine never on my face.
     Candy bar a dollar, a soda more
     A magazine’s a decent score.
     Selling papers was the game
     But at two bits the Post’s to blame
     For adding hours to my long day.
     All the more work to save
     Tuition for that son of mine: that tall,
     Strong, handsome, American son


Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Yer at Astah Place, Bleekah Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     Summer subway’s always hot, AC’s busted, like as not
     Tracks are bumpy, springs are shot ‘tween the cars they’re smoking
     ***.

     To catch the car you gotta run they squeeze you in with everyone
     Just hope no body’s got a gun 'cause getting there is half the fun.

     Packed in this car we’re awful tight seems this way both day and
     night.
     And then some guys will start a fight.  Subway ride’s a real delight.

     Danger! Keep out! Rodenticide! I read while waiting for a ride.
     This is a warning I have to chide:  
     I’m very likely to walk downtown, but I’d never do it Underground.

     Took the Downtown by mistake.  Please, conductor, hit the brake!
     Got an uptown date to make, God only knows how long I’ll take.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Bleekah Street, Spring Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The trains come through the station here,
     The racket’s music to my ear.
  &nbs
Images, overheard (and imagined) conversations.  @2003
tina lombardo  Sep 2018
BRIDGE
tina lombardo Sep 2018
I walk on your bridge
I walk on your bridge
I wanted to cry
I walk on your bridge
I walked on your bridge
the wind blew i knew you were there
I walked on your bridge
I walked on your bridge
I  remember your kiss
I walked on your bridge
i walked on your bridge
i wanted to jump
I walked on your bridge
I walked on your bridge
to say i love you
I Walked  on your bridge
There’s I place I go to
When you cross my mind
It’s almost as if your still there
By my side
Whispering in my ear
Caressing my palm

We called it the bridge to nowhere

I remember meeting you there
Sitting near the end
Staring out towards the water
You approaching me

I remember looking up
At your perfect tanned face
Your messy dark hair
Your mesmerizing gold eyes
Casually wearing your football jersey.

I remember your simple hello
Your nervous chuckle
Your silly smile.

I remember smiling back
And inviting you to sit.

Our first meeting on the bridge to nowhere

I remember sneaking out after dark
To meet you there
Just to lay on the bare wooden boards
Staring at the moon

I remember the smell of flowers that spring
branches blooming nearby
The smell of smoke and spices
Forever embedded in your clothes.

I remember your singing
Sweet nothings
in Spanish
Softly in my ear

Entwined together on the bridge to nowhere

I remember your high school graduation
Your mother so proud
Your sister excited
Your father crying

I remember your first game in college
Your running onto the field
Pride and joy in your eyes
Though you didn’t play
Because of that sprained wrist

I remember your sweaty embrace
And your ramblings
of the game
Reviewing every play
Your eyes shimmering with excitement

Racing to the bridge to nowhere

I remember that call
Which changed my life
My heart stopped
I couldn’t think

I remember rushing
to the hospital
Crying with your little sister
Collapsed on the floor

I remember your bloodied face
Wrapped in linen
Tubes bursting from your chest

I wanted to race to the bridge to nowhere

I remember spending my nights
Curled by your side
Willing you to stay
Strong

I remember that endless tone
That said you were gone

I cried at the bridge to nowhere

I remember curling up in your hoodie
Smelling you
Pretending it was you
Your arms surrounding me

I remember lying by the stone
That recalled your name
Talking to you
Burning letters by the small candle

I remember cleaning out your room
With your mother and sister
Finding that little box by your bed
Your final gift to me

I opened it at the bridge to nowhere

I still go there sometimes
With a letter filled
With promises to you
And a flame by which to send it.
Morning Star Apr 18
*** Fallen Angel ***


Into darkness once again but now it's different

Because I've learnt to fall a little way

See a little of what went before but never be dragged with in its claw

As now a bridge I see is there it's wobbly yes but still secure

It's made of rope, it swings and rocks

Even if  I let go it holds me firm

So I can see what lies beneath

But never again will I fall so deep

For now I choose if I let go

You see I built a bridge I know

I'm still aware of the void beneath, the loss , the pain, the endless sleep, the fear

But now i can choose to look I can choose to see or even feel

But never again can I fall in

You see

as I built a bridge for my child within

She cannot live in fear now

She has my love tied in its secure enough to hold us both

Entwined together our bridge

Is love

Yes the void is deep and dark

But the fear has gone now the bridge is there it's so strong it can not break

You see its made from strength I found one day

It was buried inside too scared to try to scared to climb

But as an adult I entwined it with love it grew

Now my child has the strength to climb

She is with me now safe and dry

She does not need to hide or cry or remember the fear

She only has to walk along side me holding my hand ever so tightly

The love I have for her is the bridge that can never break it's strong and yet it can swing so we still get to have childish fun

it has beautiful flowers it has strong arms it can lift us up so high

It's our bridge so high above

Above the fall

The past is left the pain has gone

The fear is dropped into the void as its to heavy for our bridge

but the happy memories fly with us above

All we have to do is walk along our bridge.

Yes this time it's different I can only look over and down but I cannot fall now as fear has gone and our love is one me and my little girl

Our bridge

By Fallen Angel

19th February 2016
*** Fallen Angel ***
Written by
*** Fallen Angel ***
Kimberly Clemens Jul 2013
I burnt a bridge that didn't have any water under it.
No numbing temperature to shock you.
No tormenting waves to annhilate you.
No angry current to pull you under.
The bridge let across all the danger that I wanted to avoid.
But now that I burnt it down to the ground all that danger
came crashing down into the safe haven
that was protected by my bridge.
I was told to never look down when you feel inferior.
There was grass under that bridge but I was too blind to see it.
I was too busy looking up at the speeding cars crossing this turnpike.
I was suffocated and transfixed by the high beams of my problems.
I was so busy facing my problems head on
That I never bothered to look down and find the strength in giving in.
I didn't realize the bridge was what was directing the negativity away from me.
I listened to them. Society, that is.
And what a stupid idea that was.
Because they told me to burn my bridges.
They told me to strike a match to them
And watch it settle into an unforgiving blaze
Before walking away without looking back.
But they never told me some bridges were meant to save me.
They never said the real danger could be what was beneath the bridge.
They never warned me about the dam underneath that was ready to burst.
Karma is crashing down onto me like baseball-sized hail.
It's not the boomerang effect coming back around to hit me in the face
But instead the avalanche I created from throwing it too far.
And hitting a wall that was too fragile to be played with.
The worst part is I have no bridge to take cover under in a hailstorm anymore.
And no bridge to cross to get away from the incoming avalanche.
All I have are the ashes of what I thought was hurting me.
But it was actually what was saving me.
J H Webb Nov 2017
(from my hospital bed – Nov. 14 2017)

Over the bridge of friendship
How many time I've gone
Sometimes I'm met in the middle
Sometimes there is no one

Sometimes I am too weak to cross
Sometimes I am too strong
But crossing the bridge of friendship
That never can be wrong

Over the bridge of friendship
I've learned to heal two hearts
I've been the one most giving
And I've played the other part

I've been rude and selfish
And I've been loving and kind
But the bridge always reminds me
That I'm not alone this time

Over the bridge of friendship
I've travelled many times
Sometimes I am accepted
Sometimes I am declined

I'm not saying that I am perfect
I've had my share of pride
But I never would refuse you
On this bridge of yours and mine

So when you feel too sad or lonely
Just stop and turn around
And cross the bridge of friendship
Where you know I can be found

And I know the bridge of friendship
Will outlast me in the end
But when you take that last walk
I'll be waiting for you my friend

James H. Webb
Jimmy Hegan  Apr 2016
BRIDGE
Jimmy Hegan Apr 2016
BE  BRIDGE  BETWEEN  HUMAN KINDS,
NEVER BECOME KNIVES  TO DESTROY HUMAN KINDS,

BE BRIDGE BETWEEN TWO NATIONS,
NEVER BECOME WARRIOR TO DESTROY THE NATIONS.

BE BRIDGE BETWEEN  TWO LOVERS
NEVER  BE   THIRD  TRIANGLE  OF TWO LOVERS,

BE   BRIDGE  BETWEEN  TWO  LEADERS
NEVER  DO  BAD  POLITICS  TO  DESTROY  EACH OTHER.

BE  BRIDGE  BETWEEN TO RIVERS,
NEVER  DESTROY BRIDGE FOR YOUR CRUEL INTENTIONS.

BE  BRIDGE  BETWEEN  MAN  AND  WOMEN,
NEVER  COMPETE  TO OVERTAKE EACH OTHER,

BE  BRIDGE  BETWEEN  GOOD AND BAD,
NEVER  BE FRIENDS OF ADULTERY.
NARRATED BY JIMMY S HEGAN

— The End —