8w

blame
cannot
be
put
upon
those
we
understand

Chan S 2d

I apologize,for blaming you.
Because I can only blame myself
You see, all along it's been me.
Me allowing you to treat me the way you've been treating me.
Me allowing You to take my voice away.  
Me allowing You to touch me in ways I did not appreciate.
Me Allowing You to hurt me with your actions.
I should have spoken up.
Used my voice a long time ago.
Then you would've known my words now are not for show.

I apologize, for accrediting you for my life's work.
When I can only accredit myself.
For all my pains and all my strife.
All my wins in my whole life
For my loss' penetrating knife.
It's always been me.
I should have spoken up.
Used my voice a long time ago.
Then you would've known my words now are not for show.

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I like the nastiest bars,
Those where the waitress is called names
But she doesn't care 'cause she's too kind
And tries to keep it all clean for 400 a month.

Those bars have drama
Whole worlds and stories continuosly entangling,
Whisky on rocks, vomits and shouts
Here comes Rita the waitress to clean it all again;
Dogs bark in the streets
Women cry in their beds as men get drunk
And kick the innocent trash can over a discussion about gibberish.

The loner cat lurks the street at night
Hunting for hamburgers that fell off the trash can,
The drunk men start a fight,
'Here comes the police!' 'Run-run!'
One falls, gets the blame and a free trip to county jail,
Three others join a party and feed the whores
Money and cock --- tails.

Finally, the last one goes home
To beat the crying wife over the same junk
And the repressed anger only a coward can hide.

Jobira 6d

We're all humans, almost the same;
black and white or red and brown
in the ways, we smile, or grin and frown,
and even cry and cuddle
like kittens with soft soul, which
we’re all fragile and breakable,
for we’re made out of clay of soil.

Although, we have many faces,
and dwell in different places,
or enunciate with many mouths,
yet, there’s ONLY one night or day,
for all, to sleep or play.
Thus, there will be time, in which
the oceans will dry.
the sun will set, and
the earth will stay still,
and the kingdoms must fall, so
a mankind can dance or cry,
on that abrupt call.

Therefore, if darkness is inevitable,
shouldn't we hang up the frame?
Why some hearts,
Reprobate?
to beat out the flame?

Love, peace and understanding goes a long way. Let's all get along!
Ian Woods Jun 10

the unzipped bags revealing
what this Monday morn has brought
care of mortuary feelings
thanks to cemetery thoughts
the deficit and derelict
whose flame life chose to douse
for one last insult they'll inflict
inside this charnel house
so from the white tiled strip bulb sky
an aerial survey
where goggled eyes look down and spy
a dead heart on a tray
determining the size and weight
and cause of its demise
the heart that came early to late
and by its own devise
served in a red gravy lake
and trimmed in yellow fat
oven ready, good to bake
but it's not here for that
and not there to effect repair
to give it back it's tick
time has now come to declare
what made this heart so sick
what stopped it beating steady
and what drained it of all love
so scalpel at the ready
held in see-through rubber gloves
a doctor billed as necro-skilled
starts slicing with a knife
clearly stilled by the milk spilled
in its short, lovesick life
cleans away the sorry mess
and sews it back inside
hails the op a big success
but the patient sadly died
to satisfy coronial laws
he scribbles on some forms
can't certify a natural cause
it’s too far from the norm
the arteries were far from shot
the chambers not worn through
there was just that one big clot
that looked a lot like you
the shape that drove it to this room
to lie upon this slab
the kind of shape one would assume
they'd welcome in the lab
to analyse by microscope
and find out what's to blame
poke and study in the hope
of giving it a name
a myriad of tests well used
in search of a result
identifies the drugs abused
but the name remains occult
of the disease that did enslave
and chose this heart to smote
a name they’ve taken to their grave
oh wait – they’ve left a note...

Bleeding heart poetry

Dwelling on the Past
Can do a tremendous amount of damage.
Sure,
Remember History,
But don't blame anyone
For what they did in the Past
If they aren't doing it any more today.
It's self-destructive.

You'd known each other a few years
With each other you were at ease
You decided you wanted more
Entering her world like a cool
summer breeze
Time spent together
was a soft glowing light
Sweet words whispered
walks hand in hand
long conversations into the night
You made her feel safe and secure
with your charisma and charm
Introducing her to your family
Walking in arm in arm
When asked to meet her family
it caused you stress and alarm
Insecurities got the better of you
You panicked about what to do
You shut down, snuffed out
something that could've been true
Life's far to short and this I know
Not to take the reins of life and give somthings ago
People who like you for who you are
do not come round to often
So the dislike and disapproval of yourself needs to somewhat soften  
You put her in a dismal place
 extinguishing that flame
You didn't call, didn't text
So she thought she was to blame
You should have thought long and hard before giving things ago
Instead you came in
Made her heart flutter
Then left her feeling low

With age does come wisdom. Unfortunately for some not in areas of life
Zan Balmore May 17

Ever my loss
I wave goodbye

What I brought
Goes with the night

Who wants to use it?
Save it, still lose it.

Life decays as it did, and does.

Brighter these blue lines,
dimmer the dark of death
What it is I bring and brought
goes with the night, ever my loss.

I say goodbye,
I wave. My lips,
I pucker up.

The End

i seat it in the back row
and i try not to stare
but i know that it's there

i'll blame it on the front row
when i don't even care
but i know that it's there

it's creeping in the back row
and i try not to share
but i know that it's there

i guess it's just who we are
i guess i'm worse for ware
and i know that it's here

it takes a seat in the front row
and i can't help but to stare
because i know that it's there

Cait May 9

If I take time to write the facts
We'll be here all day

Suffice to say
It's mostly your fault I went insane

trapped in this gentle body
unable to react with all the force that was needed
and now it's too late
and I'll be stuck here forever--

no, not really eternity.
That will thankfully be spent blissfully elsewhere.

But when is it coming?

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