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The last day of the year, and I paid a visit to show my respects
To attempt to humble my flesh
To give my reflection of a failed man
Who designated days of joy saved up from past jobs/relationships
Felt the lightning crash into my soul
Thinking it took the weird from one to half my whole self
I came to the plot
Twisting rose petals into my palm
And sprinkling them at her feet
Asking for forgiveness in a futile plea
I needed someone to speak to, and in this case
Spirits only speak to those who don't come forth weak with intentions
Renditions of "Wash Me" running through my mind
In all white, I delivered a bouquet
A brief say
A respite from desperation, my soul hath claimed
Prayed for her rest, her family's best, and a ceasing of my shameful pain
Hell, at one point, I thought I messed up her name.
Not even nervousness
Just urgently purging in the place where "my mama" 'nem stay
Pennies in her best number
A purple candle and rattle to battle back bad energies
The wind was so telling, that I couldn't even catch my breath
Running from reality
I asked for clarity in love through death.

Ifeanyi N Okoro II © 1/2/2024
Rest in peace.  Forgive me.  What do I do now?
Jamesb Dec 2023
You may not know you love me,
You may not value that love you know I bear,
You may not see the service
That I provide,
Nor desire the years of love
And dedication that I
Offered from figurative
And indeed a literal knee,

But I know you do love me,
Just hoped you'd show it more,
Although in fact you do show it when
The chips are down,
I DO value my love,
A truer and rarer thing
You will not find,

The service?

Meh! I love you
So it just came but
It made a difference to your life,
The years that I have offered Appear to count for nowt,
But they are what remains
Of me,
Offered in humility

And love,
To me these things were
And are
Not so readily cast aside,
Yet it seems you may not
Find an answering flame inside,
And even that maybe concept Really really hurts,
Exploring the issue of unrequited love. The pain of unknowing, of possible imminent loss.
Stagger Lee Nov 2023
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.
Jamesb Sep 2023
You and I were always meant to be,
Me to meet you and indeed you me,
To fall in love with you,
That has always been my lot,
To lose those parts of me
I valued most,
My pride
My arrogance
My certainty

We were meant always to sail together and
Share a great distance,
Many memories,
To see a vast tract of water
Pass under the bridge,
To share our everything
Our selves
Our hearts,
Our souls,

And now I am lesser - for my pride,
That arrogant cancer that thought it ruled?
That vast chunk of me
Has burned away,
Reduced to ashes and even those
Carried away by the wind,
Leaving just an absence,
A charred hollow remnant
Now silent,

And I would fill that void with you,
Cram it with love for every part of you,
Pack it so tight with service of you
That not the slightest part of any other
Would or could ever intrude,
Neither thought nor action
Betray thee
Or me
Or us,

But though on your suggestion
I wrote a death sentence against that other,
Though I finessed the edges
To ensure the bolt struck a fatal blow,
Did this without demur,
Because I know what future
I desire and that with you,
Dinner with him still beckons thee,
And not informed beyond a doubt it not a date,

I had no doubt,
I acted straight to reassure you,
Contributed to make a deadly form,
And you do not see the unspoken part
Of your omission,
The unverbalised desire to
Keep your options open,

And not to make it plain before
That it is not a date.
And I  cannot now raise this again,
Despite my reasonable stance,
For you will throw the trust  card
In my face,
Pour angry vitriol upon my head,
And I would drive you where he would have you,
And that is not his sofa,
Nor your van.
Some perceptions are almost too much to bear, however much trust might be because anger can change an intention in an instant. It ****** hurts and I hate it
SiouxF Aug 2023
Let go of
The pain
The torment
The anguish
The worry
The times long since past.
Let a new exciting
Chapter unfold
In its own
Unique way,
Embrace change,
Welcome the unknown,
And hope

There is a responsibility, borne
within an online conveyance
   of the heart
when it comes to publicly posted poetry..

For within the conveyance of words
released into the Universe..
(words once residing  within
the inner linings of heart and soul..   words..
now made seen and known  to all)

is the deeply embedded DNA
of the author,

wherein lies the accountability;
when those words,  bearing
genetic imprint
enter into the heart of another.

I write  specifically
over things touched within me
But try to convey it
in a sense..  Universally

so that it might be taken  in
by any and all

.. That the benefits of Love's beautiful ways
may find access into the parts of the heart
that need it most..
sometimes, sneaken in  and finding root
before the receiver is even aware..
bringing, inside the recipient's skin


     But also the potentiality
     of becoming hurt.

I am sorry.

(and most everyone else in the world)
rarely, if ever..  talk to me.

But I watch you just the same
solely  by what you write.
My existence causes pain.

     That..  I know.

I love you more
than you will ever know.
I would stop writing,  but I don't know how
There's not a 12-step group
for these things

I dream of one day being killed
for who it is that I am.
I dream.. and then I smile.
But I do not smile at all,
the times I see that you are hurt.
I have real arms,  
   ..within this poetic world
   that is so very intangible--

When you cry,
they could not truly show you
it's okay

They cannot show anyone
that it's okay
Everyone's afraid of me
like I'm some kind of perpetrator
So I will die alone..  judged
for things I have not done

So I am sorry, my Beautiful--
It really is all my fault
for ever truly wanting to see.
   All I ever wanted to do
   was become able to see

and overcome the  hurt
that  long ago so horribly hurt me

You've become hurt
by my ability to see.

I'm sorry.

There is a dread
that comes from living this way.
everyone is eventually
coming back Home.

Corny or not,
maybe this strange little song will somehow help you to see
just how very sorry..

I am.
For hurting you.

For believing.

He wrote it, just trying to convey  a feeling
he did not fully understand:
If you only knew   just how very much.

belief in the salvation of all souls.

A Psalmist Nov 2022
The laughing sounds
they must abound
filling space all around
to make ripe the ground
for the anguish to be drowned.
Sunrise coffee in reticence;
Wonder what has caused the rift?
I’ve danced with every elephant
in every single room;
Wonder why I always shape-shift?

Distance never made my heart grow fonder
I crave to be far more removed.
I search for other types of anguish;
Do stars gleam brighter
when you stand on the moon?

So many paths I could have taken,
but I chose to carve mine
blind through the mist;
On the brink of dusk
when wild violets are shrinking
Grief is simply love adrift.
Crow Sep 2022
in each shattered fragment
of time
we are forced apart

there is nothing of me
that does not cry out
for everything of you
Suspire - To draw a long, deep breath; to sigh; to breathe.
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