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Deep oceans of sadness
swelling and churning
threatening to capsize
all that I am
My throat speaks lies
I'm not ok.
The darkness looms
in the salty skies
My flesh grows weary
of holding itself together
I just need to cry
myself to sleep within
eternal blankets of darkness.
Comfort comes with sleep,
agony with waking.
I'm proud I'm not a sheep
but, just like them, I'm faking.
Mindlessness, hand in hand with joy
I feel alone, though friends abound
I need to cry, but
can't scream a sound.

Why am I like this?
Why so sad?
Why does my life feel so...
futile?
My words are slowing
my pen, failed.

My life struggles on
the front continues
my smiles have faded
into a dawnless dusk.

****.
122304~1.57p
Depression. Trying to understand why sadness envelopes everything.
 Apr 2015 shannon
Cat Fiske
Maybe it was better this way,
Better to learn this today,

Rather then trying to **** up a hard truth,
In years older then my youth,

you took my life,
and made me sharpen my knife,

and I handed you it,
you stabbed me with it,
and wouldn't even toss me the first aid kit,

Satin white stained red,
from blood shed,

and I sat there and wilted away,
and you still took my body and played,

And maybe I owe you a thank you,
Because now I have a few clues,

I know what you did was ****,
But at lest you let me escape,

who else would of let me out of there *******?
even if it was without your doing...

so let me just make this loud and clear
Because I might even toast with my beer,

Yes you may have helped me learn something,
but I learned that you matter no more than a piece of string,

but you were that worthless ******* piece of string,
that was holding my world together at the seams,
idk just thoughts on what ive delt with
2015, April 22

to experience a thousand
Suns setting, rising
with a stroke of a pen

to bask in the warmth
surrounding you
in the absence of light

to know that dying
is but a step
towards being one with the Great Everything

to watch your own flesh and blood
crawling, walking, loving
growing old, growing wise

to feel connected with Nature
by some weird concoction
of your unique mind

to infuse emotions
through simple words
on the canvas of your life you paint

to be enthralled by the magnanimity
of the Eternal Human Soul
wandering, wandering to become whole

to love, to write
to live in spite the crushing weight
of your dark existence

to be human, to be more
to become the Creator
you've always been
 Apr 2015 shannon
mark john junor
she suffered in silence
the inglorious dirt of rumor
as she tried unweave the web it wraps round her
far from being willing to live this way
the lies and the stink of deception settle in
but she keeps struggling against the tide
she is a sweet beauty incongruous
the late day clouds roll in
and she casts a weary glance at the troubled skies
trouble enough on my own
don't need another fistful of snakes
but deep down inside she knew she could handle
another dark day
long as there is the bright promise of someday
and as the rain and stink of decay settles in
she rises above like she always dose
people will always talk
spite is a hunger that is never sated
jealousy is a disease that has no cure
she suffered in silence
the inglorious dirt of rumor
but she is made of better steel
and this will never break the likes of her
and as she unweaves the web of lies
she feels stronger with the knowledge that she will win
 Apr 2015 shannon
Jane
Tonight
 Apr 2015 shannon
Jane
Times I've craved for this moment,
Till I'm all broken,
Apart from my body who's spoken,
I want this enjoyment.

So stay tonight just to restore,
Towards the door,
Upon this you can explore,
Ending up with more.

Your hands are in my hair,
And it's so unfair,
I watch you as your eyes stare,
And lust is in the air.

Now we're doing it all again,
This time with chains,
We could go straight to fast lane,
So this can maintain.

Your bare skin under mine,
As the clock ticks nine,
We could go one more time,
This is too divine.
For you ;)
Jokes
I
Thy trivial harp will never please
Or fill my craving ear;
Its chords should ring as blows the breeze,
Free, peremptory, clear.
No jingling serenader's art,
Nor ****** of piano strings,
Can make the wild blood start
In its mystic springs.
The kingly bard
Must smile the chords rudely and hard,
As with hammer or with mace;
That they may render back
Artful thunder, which conveys
Secrets of the solar track,
Sparks of the supersolar blaze.
Merlin's blows are strokes of fate,
Chiming with the forest tone,
When boughs buffet boughs in the wood;
Chiming with the gasp and moan
Of the ice-imprisoned hood;
With the pulse of manly hearts;
With the voice of orators;
With the din of city arts;
With the cannonade of wars;
With the marches of the brave;
And prayers of might from martyrs' cave.

Great is the art,
Great be the manners, of the bard.
He shall not his brain encumber
With the coil of rhythm and number;
But, leaving rule and pale forethought,
He shall aye climb
For his rhyme.
"Pass in, pass in," the angels say,
"In to the upper doors,
Nor count compartments of the floors,
But mount to paradise
By the stairway of surprise."

Blameless master of the games,
King of sport that never shames,
He shall daily joy dispense
Hid in song's sweet influence.
Forms more cheerly live and go,
What time the subtle mind
Sings aloud the tune whereto
Their pulses beat,
And march their feet,
And their members are combined.

By Sybarites beguiled,
He shall no task decline;
Merlin's mighty line
Extremes of nature reconciled,
Bereaved a tyrant of his will,
And made the lion mild.
Songs can the tempest still,
Scattered on the stormy air,
Mold the year to fair increase,
And bring in poetic peace.
He shall nor seek to weave,
In weak, unhappy times,
Efficacious rhymes;
Wait his returning strength.
Bird that from the nadir's floor
To the zenith's top can soar,
The roaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length.
Nor profane affect to hit
Or compass that, by meddling wit,
Which only the propitious mind
Publishes when 'tis inclined.
There are open hours
When the God's will sallies free,
And the dull idiot might see
The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;
Sudden, at unawares,
Self-moved, fly-to the doors,
Nor sword of angels could reveal
What they conceal.

II
The rhyme of the poet
Modulates the king's affairs;
Balance-loving Nature
Made all things in pairs.
To every foot its antipode;
Each color with its counter glowed:
To every tone beat answering tones,
Higher or graver;
Flavor gladly blends with flavor;
Leaf answers leaf upon the bough;
And match the paired cotyledons.
Hands to hands, and feet to feet,
In one body grooms and brides;
Eldest rite, two married sides
In every mortal meet.
Light's far furnace shines,
Smelting ***** and bars,
Forging double stars,
Glittering twins and trines.
The animals are sick with love,
Lovesick with rhyme;
Each with all propitious Time
Into chorus wove.

Like the dancers' ordered band,
Thoughts come also hand in hand;
In equal couples mated,
Or else alternated;
Adding by their mutual gage,
One to other, health and age.
Solitary fancies go
Short-lived wandering to and ire,
Most like to bachelors,
Or an ungiven maid,
Nor ancestors,
With no posterity to make the lie afraid,
Or keep truth undecayed.
Perfect-paired as eagle's wings,
Justice is the rhyme of things;
Trade and counting use
The self-same tuneful muse;
And Nemesis,
Who with even matches odd,
Who athwart space redresses
The partial wrong,
Fills the just period,
And finishes the song.

Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife
Murmur in the hour of life,
Sung by the Sisters as they spin;
In perfect time and measure they
Build and unbuild our echoing clay.
As the two twilights of the day
Fold us music-drunken in.
 Feb 2015 shannon
Hannah M
She is lost
but she refuses to ask for directions
Because she has always been good at navigating
and she will refuse to acknowledge
that suddenly
she doesn't know
where she is anymore

So instead she wanders
around in circles
For days, weeks, months
And as the days blend into one
she finds that she doesn't even recognise
her surroundings anymore
and she can't even remember
how it felt before she was lost

Meanwhile her friends and family
don't notice she is missing
Too busy with their own lives
to realise she is no longer there

And now she's scared
That she has wandered too far
and too deep
That when she screams for help
Nobody will hear her
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