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Stagger Lee Nov 13
My soul lies at the bottom of a cold glass bottle,
I live my life full throttle conscious and wild,
With unfathomable sorrow in the bottom of my scorned black heart,
I play fast and loose with love and idle madness,
Its the fruit of my life that gets me through.

Everyday is like Russian roulette in my mind,
Everyday I take a sip but the truth gets harder to find,
It doesn’t exist at the bottom of a bottle,
Yet everyday I desperately search for the answers,
Everyday I fall just a little behind,
It’s an unwinnable game that I constantly lose
everyday I slip closer to the end with no light in sight,
Yet it’s the little fruit of my life that helps get me through.

Sometimes I feel like a god, sometimes I feel like a roach in a pool,
Sometimes I feel like a king, sometimes I feel like a fool,
Sometimes I feel like the very essence of life,
sometimes I feel like the darkest cold death,
But it’s the spark in my lungs, it’s the fire in my stomach,
The Uniqueness! of my essence, and the freedom of my will,
but I’m still just a slave with a bullet in my head,
I have to drench my soul and drown my burdens,
For now it’s the fruit of my life that gets me through.
There is a shadow
over the world these days.
Maybe it's been there for a while,
it just took time to notice.

The flinching gazes of friends
nervous like grazing deer
in the open. Exposed,
like fraguile things
no longer confident.
Humanity seem to realize
how young we are.

The guns are loaded.

The blood is real


We are not ready.

And here it comes.
just a note on the feeling I have these days. People seem anxious. War is happening... And for the first time in my life I talk of the "good old days".
Don Bouchard Sep 6
Autumnal Wanderings

Summer's heat leaves us wilted,
Potted tomatoes drying on the deck.
Water helps, and evening's shade
Reminds us of the coming dread.

Ash trees drop late summer's shed;
Yellow leaves litter grass now lost;
Dog days oppress us as we yawn,
Ennui of heat turns our desire to frost.

We are not content at summers' turning fall;
We miss the verdant greens of spring;
We dread the snow, the wintry cold;
No longer young, we fight our growing old.
One of the longest summers of 90 plus degrees each day is coming to an end. Mentally, I am flirting with the desire for frost.
Ninah Sep 3
i remember my own misery
like i remember my first kiss:
it was innocent, i was nervous
and it lingered for years

even now, navigating this ocean
of happiness, i remember hunger
and i am drowning in grief

i wish i had no memories;
even that kiss turned violent,
its softness still haunts me

God, i see smiles and hear their laughter;
why does mine not sound like theirs?
i fear my pain has tainted everything
Ron Sparks Aug 19
by me as I
wrestle with my regret,
she laughs - and for a short moment I
too smile
There's an ocean,
Underneath me,
And a thought that
Can defeat me,

O, I'll cry,
When I see you
Once more...

There's a name,
I'm so ashamed,
I can't make it,
I'm to blame.

O, I'll cry
When I see you
Once more...

All the things
That I've done,
There's no battles
That I've won,

O, I'll cry
When I see you
Once more...

Inside I'm still dying,
Outside, I'm
Still trying,
There's no one
To hold open doors!

No lying , I'm crying,
My blood
Won't hit the floor;

But I'll cry,
When I see you
Once more...

I've got friends,
Til the end,
But no moments
I can rend,

There's nothing
But something
I adore!

Such a moment
Just a moment,
My atonement,
I abhor,

But I'll cry
When I see you
Once more!
A poem I wrote describing my depression. A year ago I caught a case for attempting to steal from a car, and pulling a gun on someone. Yeah... even I make serious mistakes. But the aggravated assault charge is going to be dropped, and I'll likely serve probation for attempted robbery of a motor vehicle. Thankfully it's a misdemeanor, and not the felony they wanted to charge me with... I wrote this today before court on Monday. Wish me luck and forgiveness... that's all I have the right to ask.

Another Anniversary,
Where I find myself

I think upon the memories
We shared when we
Were one...

A once important part of me,
I lost when you
were gone...

Another anniversary,
I dream I'm in
Your arms...

To turn the clock
To feel that touch again...

A love I won't allow
To leave,
I'm yours until the end....

I curl up and I
Try to sleep,
Upon my empty bed...

I cry and grasp upon
The key,
And hear the words you said...

"I know our life isn't the best,
But you're the one for me.
And one day when We've
Gotten free "

"I'll buy you a ring..."
Today is the day I met my departed fiancé, Chucky,  who died of a ****** overdose on October 16, 2013. We both took a shot, but i woke up and he didn't... So tonight is for drinking, tonight is for thinking, and remembering how we lived and loved.  "We're so free, you and me... We even share the stars..." -- Chucky  Mallon, August 12, 2010, Eleanor Tinsley park, on the hillside. I remember and I miss you.
Work a forty hour week or more
Five nights a week for pay
Get a bonus if you hit the targets
Drink every two weeks when paid
Till you fall over have more and crawl
Celebration BPO style wage slave job
Dial the ******* customers do as told
Stressed to Hell and back be quiet DIAL!
You wanna work in a call centre?
Go ahead you better be ready
For stress orders drinking and more
kain larose May 15
To try once more
would only dig me deeper in the depths
Desperation dealt with daily
Deepening my breaths
Remember running in the rain
Really hope the memory remains
Still stuck with soaked socks
And small spots of dirt stains
David Hilburn Mar 14
And a told rise of climate
Special speed to them, the more we then
The greater the fate...

Whits in unison, time is a reach...
Powers of unction or lucre
Time is a shadow of whether, we insist
Paces of control, and the help of the future...

The watched for inertia, here
Is a fear in total live, and lets share due
Given the age of need, are you redoubt or near?

Patience is such a walking nightmare...
Presence for a friend, is a whole order to tame a thought...
Powers that be, seek a question nobody has forgot, where...
Passion is for a fool's errand, to remember what is not...

The look of callousness...
Turning for simpler silences to deal with
Adding a habit, in gray sources and duly the imagination lest
With a knowing hand, the reasons of valor, to intone is...
Submission is a grand view on the devil's real estate...
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