Reflection of myself.
I constantly see.
One minute a intelligent man.
The next second someone constantly wondering.

Why the world is the way it is?
When together we can accomplish creating peace.
As a whole we can end all wars.
But in the mixture you always have someone that's totally trouble.

Some lives to create havoc.
Some lives to be an outcast.
Almost like music of the past.

A reflection of myself.
I constantly seeking.
Someone that measure the sincerity of their heart.
And treasure those they professes to love.

The sun rises every morning,
Sometimes,
I think,
it's role is just to cheese me off.
As from behind it's hazy autumnal sky,
with falling mist,
It wakes me early,
before the **** begins to crow,
always beats my alarm clock at letting me know.
The time has come once again to move on,
to face a newborn week,

One day,
I shall not awaken to the light of the morning sun,
not just yet however,
I shall be drenched in the realms of once just passed lost breaths,
And internally to myself I shall smile,
In the belief that I shall not die in the minds of my mattering ones,
the nattering ones.
Who matter so much,
in the past tense of emotions immense,
of sons,
grandsons and daughters,
of maybe one day having grand-daughters,
and brothers long lost.

At the setting of the sun today,
I will reflect,
as evening folds around me,
on marriage and families and sisters -in -law,
I'll take a deep breath,
smile,
so much,
at the peace that was drawn from a wedding hat box.
(C) Livvi

Reflection On A Self-Destruction

Gifts past belief,
Perfect pitch, honed technique,
Undoing self from morn till eve -
It grieves those who no longer seek him.
Sitting all the day,
A once sought artist,
Solo instrumentalist,
Never lifting up his *****,
With his all upon the telly,
Living on old memory,
One waits for a communiqué,
“Dead!” - from fears collected
Long self-neglected years,
Long self-rejected years
Laced with the chaos of self-based abuse.
[He was] once handsome-faced,
But hooked on spirits, wine and ciggies,
Thinking on the Long Ago,
Not letting go,
Years spent, tears spent,
Its ****** happening
As of this typing,
Lessons still unlearned.

Yiddish for buttocks
British informal term for television
cigarettes

A Reflection On Self-Destruction 10.6.2016
Small Stories Book;
Arlene Corwin

I see why they laugh
and talk behind my back,
yet instead of telling
me the truth they hide them
with little lies but I can see what they
hide from me I see why they say "
you need help"
your crazy in the head" and
"why must you act like that?"
even my own mother says
"sometimes I just want to hit you so bad"
they make me a lone wolf away from the pack.
But you know what I don't care
I may only be able to
hide my tears for oh so long
soon they will show
hot tears running down my face.
I see my relection I hate it
shows me why the people talk
I see why they talk
I see why they laugh they don't know what I
have been through and what I have seen
they only know the outer side of me...

Face Time.

I showed her her face.
She wouldn't look. I said.
Look.
See how beautiful you are.

It took days.
It took months.
She looked.
She could not. But finally did.

I said. Please say hi to yourself.
Say "Hi Leslie". It took a while.
So many tears.
She finally started to look and say hi.

This went on and on.

There were so many slips.
Falling back down to despair.
Oh our love seemed so desparate.
So unfair.

I started saying we won't sleep,
Each night
Until we resolve it.
So we did, we sat in the bathtub.

Talking and talking 'til resolve, came.

More years.
Building and building.
Life became our family.
Alone, then two children. Finally seven.

It seemed like climbing from hell to heaven.

Sure it was hard.
Sometimes it was fun.
Rolling back down.
when trouble would come.

Disease came. Physical. Mental.
Both sides of the coin.
Through weakness and trouble.
We shared in our pain.

The children grew up
at least they could see
Love.
That was shared by Leslie and me.

Now that we are old.
Grandchildren and dogs.
I'm so far away from it all
For income from the desert.

She.
Lives by the sea.
Near where it all took place.
We share through computer
Face to Face.

She looks at mine.
I look at hers.
A little relection of each.
Each day when we say.
Hi.
With Face Time.

8 Jan. 2016
Dr.mgm

Every so often they would come in
Turn the lights on and ask me questions
Then record my responses

Never showing emotion
They only asked and observed
Perhaps seaching for certain responses

The room had no windows
I could not truely tell
If it was day or night

My memories were blurred
And with each passing test
They only grew more clouded

The observers returned again
This time not asking
But telling

They told me things
Both mundane and strange
Supposed events and occurrences

Whether they were in the future
Or the distant past
I did not know

I listened to and answered
The faceless observers
For what seemed like days

The time came
When they seemed satisfied
With the knowledge I had gained

And they endeavoured
To show me one final thing
By wheeling out a simple mirror

They faced it towards me
And what I saw looking back
Shocked me to my core

In the dim relection
I saw a strange machine
With churning part and glowing orbs

This machine was me
Though I knew not how
For it was not a form I recalled

One of the larger observers explained
I was the last intelligence
Of a long extinct race

In fact they told me
I was the last individual intelligence
In the universe

For they were all part
Of a greater hive mind
That had absorbed all creation

They planned to bring me
Before that grand being itself
Once preperations were made

Silently and without emotion
They left the room
And turned the lights off again

I was alone again

I, the sole survivor
Brought back from the oblivion
Of an antiquated age

To face the god of this one

I use to is a comment we hear a lot.
Things people had.
But seems to have lost.
And it's a relection of their past.
Which doesn't fades.
But will forever last.
Well, I'm the now.
What I long for?
I will try to achieve.
I'm in the now.
The past only contains memories.
Which are good and sometimes bad.

It's like a lover looking back.
And can only remember certain events.
But when pushed to confirm.
Then they understand exactly, what the present means?
I'm in the now.
My moment is now.
And my future is tomorrow.

and i sat and stared into the eyes
of what i presumed to be mine
my relection looking right at me

cold lifeless tears already formed on the waterline
not a sign
of any soul behind
icy blue irises and puplis far too dialated
for this "darkness" inside

i sat and i stared
at this stranger
for what let like eternity
but really
was probably only
ten minutes, at most

looking back at me
i sae the body of a girl
more like the corpse of a girl
with eyes that didn't shine
and had bags underneath like caynons
and blood red lips
chapped from biting and self deprecating coldness
not a twitch upward to be seen
a straight line of melancholy

the hollowness of an creature
i'm not too sure is real
she doesn't look it
she's not alive

i'm frightened of what i saw
because that is who i am
that is me
potentially.

Once upon a time,
someone solved a crime.
But the story that was told,
was really pretty old.

It was about this kid that died,
due to all his pride.
For you see he didn't listen,
and only wanted to glisten.

This led to his downfall,
with no one left to call.
For you see his fatal flaw,
was following the claw.

He wanted only to prove,
that he knew how to move.      
But now that kid is gone,
with every brand new dawn.

So to all of you out there,
listen to my swear:
If you don't pay attention,
and there is no relection,  
than you as well will find,
yourself stuck in a bind.

Every mirror should be framed because each relection is a masterpiece