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david badgerow Nov 2011
wrapped up in aluminum foil
head resting on cracked concrete
surrounded by winking lights
and blinking eyes
warmth from the glow of humility
basking in the rays of a two dollar toaster
cardboard dwelling and trashbag scenery
paper towel t-shirt, styrofoam socks
salt and pepper lunchtime
pedastal reconstruction
hot coffee burnt tongue
peanut allergy and poisoned water
locked cabinet, rotting condiments inside an unplugged refrigerator
dying romance read only in magazines
purple heart scrawled on my arm
syringe full of bourbon plunged directly in my eye.
Smudge  Feb 2018
Blame
Smudge Feb 2018
I blamed the universe... Before I blamed you.

You held a blindfold over my eyes with tears in it; allowed me to sight only part of the scene before me.

I blamed the trees with the burnt branches; they bent ever so slightly to tickle you and lure you out to play.
I blamed your tribe; they put you on a pedastal, a pedastal that did not stay still for you to lay.

I blamed the leaves and the salt; they coerced you to mould into someone
Unknown to me.
Unknown to you.
I blamed myself; as I knew the blade would not go as deep as it would, if I Confessed to blaming you.

But

In the end..... You made the choices that brought a shard of glass down upon our ties.
I say you blindfolded me... But in reality I know, it was me, me holding that blindfold....allowing you to recite all those lies.

If only I knew how colourful the world could be without it obstructing my view.

Red and yellow and pink and green
Purple and orange and blue.......

I can now sing a rainbow,
Sing a rainbow,
Sing a rainbow too.
The truth can open your eyes to so much more. Don't ignore it, face it and rise above it.... Begin to live.
david badgerow Jan 2012
i have a headache. i have sore arms.
from drinking at 3 in the afternoon.
from holding you up on a pedastal for hours.
i dreamt about a salty girl
riding in a parade & confetti
made of dollars.
the golden rainbow is no bigger than my fist
and is blinding the dangling lovers.
next march the taste of flowers will
return to **** the garbage men,
they will be struck down by
flying swords of grass.
you will see the way the calvalry
becomes twisted up in drugs,
like a tornado singing a misty song.
it will let the dancer drift into orbit,
and i will watch as a pirate dies
of laryngitis.
Alyssa Yu May 2013
In my life
I have been
Lifted onto an impossibly high pedastal
Puffed up to fit the mold of perfection
Inflated with false hopes
Filled by others’ expectations
Blown out of proportion
Stretched beyond capacity
Pulled until I am nothing but papery skin and bones and air and dreams

But at the sound of your voice
I melt.

Never have I felt smaller than when the whisper of my name rolls off your lips.
Melissa O'Mara Apr 2010
i laugh
as i watch
you
fall gracelessly
from the
pedastal i
naively placed
you upon
at first
i think you
flawless
no imprefections
mark you or
disfigure you
but turns
out you are full
them
i think though
i placed you up there
as a distraction
while i tell you
all the things
you want to hear
i cross my
fingers and
hope to hide
all the flaws
that ive been
trying to hide
so jokes on you
my inadequete
vision
of useless
perfection
I heard you broke the cassino
I heard you made them pay
I'm sure that many
Lost their jobs that day

Now I hear you are flying
In your brand new Lear jet
Somewhere to the south of France
Hoping to make the set

"So how's my little girl now
Do you still remember me
Or am I now just your
Distant . . . memory"

We grew up with all of nothing
That you could ever want to buy
But on nothing' sake
We did give it a try

Now you've hit the big time
I hope you never fall
Your pedastal rising upward
Ever . . . so tall

"So how's my little girl tonight
Do you sometimes still remember me
You gave me your locket
I gave you my key

Do  you ever . . . remember me"
Jonny Angel May 2014
At sea level once,
I placed myself on a pedastal,
but the nosebleed was a river,
a torrent greater than
one found
in the jetstream
& now I stick to the ground,
keep my feet plastered
firmly on the ridgeline
& stare up
into heaven
graciously.
The drunken dance of our war torn hearts are just the echo of a better time in my shattered mind....
The laughter of the peak of hapiness is just a cruel mask to temporary solitude...
Bring me back to my home or at least the castle in memories and stay safe in my arrogant tower...
Let your pedastal stand in hoarded surroundings so my clutter looks up to something...
Ill pull myself together and break the spell of shattered dreams only to make the moment seem beautiful....
But dont look back or the five oclock shadow of a broken man will engulf the joy i see in your eyes....
I disappear into the nothingness created by my wisdom to let her be free....
And as i watch her leave she takes the last breath of pure air in my vaccuum of heartache...
Running casually into the one who still has a big piece of your heart is never easy..........
mariadt  Feb 2019
Untitled
mariadt Feb 2019
Your condemnation
of hands around my throat,
swept my consciousness underneath your pillow
and let my body drift arount your word.

On more than one occasion,
I was excited by the attention you gave my worth
and let my achievement dance around your tongue,
my belonging hung off of every word you offered.

Hands behind your back,
you choked the ambition from my throat
and pulled me closer with every tongue that uttered the four syllables of my name,
until they forgot how to fit me into a sentence.

Twice I frayed the knot you tied around my neck and down my back,
and at my strongest, you recalled the crease in my side that made me double over in laughter until it hurt,
and it hurt.

For the best part of what I thought to be my best days,
you forced my head to stay above the water so that you could balance on my shoulders,
and see your world from a pedastal,
while I drowned, and saw it as my only support.
Angie Sea Nov 2017
I wonder what it's like to know that two and a half years later, you're still the center of his heart. I wish I could have that space, to finally take that place. Because despite his reassurances of being mine, you're still the one he chooses everytime. I've come to despise the month of May, for those are with you, his best of days. He mocks me with your presence, disrespecting the time we share in the present. There's a child in me that wants to beg, but here I lay in my sorrow instead. Wanting for him to let go of his dime, to finally wield his actions kind. I wonder why he chose me, to stain with such a jealousy. Your beauty is on his pedastal, a treasure I can never be. I hope one day he'll end his jest, of making me known that I am less. But I'm shown your memory I'll always have to contend, so someday he'll reveal it's all until then. I hope it won't be too late, when there's no more anguish left to wait.

— The End —