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Adam Sep 2016
Life is short,
Life is quick.
But there’s always a wonder of sort,

even when it looks dreary and bleak.
Sally A Bayan Jul 2015
(Early Mornings)


It is 4:10 AM
Here i am, facing you...
Haven't showered...haven't brushed...haven't gurgled
Too early to look...but, i could not resist seeing
This person with disheveled hair
Eyes are not too willing to open
Avoiding the uncertainty surfacing...slowly but surely
Making itself known, this morning so early...
An empty shell, is what i could see
A looming nonentity...

No coffee yet, but, the eyes already speak
You don't answer, your looks are so bleak
That is how you tell me i am  stubborn
But i've been this way since birth...so torn
You tell me, i am just in denial
In front of you, it is like, i am on trial
But, i am just a mortal
Maybe we are both tired
How can we ever go back to being inspired?
Maybe you'd rather shatter into pieces...like i would,
I'd carefully gather your shards...would you gather mine, if you could?

Now, later, tonight, tomorrow...we always face each other
There are days, when i look at you, you make me smile, i feel better!
But, most times, i hate the reflections, they make me glare
And i so despise the thoughts that ensue...i counter your stare
..... I close my eyes, with a plea,
A blink could not erase, the images that i see..

I have never wanted separation
And yet, Fate brought me here, in isolation
You're my silent pal...my silent witness
You say nothing when i become senseless
I leave you in the morning
I come home from work in the evening
And i find you still here... on this wall
Welcoming me home...where i just sit, or stall
Faint jazzy sounds comfort me
A few hours rest...late at night...i sleep...i am free
Then, again, the alarm ruins the stillness of the moment
Robs the dawn of its precious silence
And i rise...to drown anew in despondency...in self pity,
Or is this lunacy?
All i see is gray...and black
Be it dawn...or dusk.

If  ever i surrender
I'd be swamped with the stark truth, the reflections you offer
...this can't be a facade,
...in front of you, it's just too bad

I am

U n m a s k e d...

....I am weak, powerless...i crawl
Over and over, i struggle not to fall,
Over and over, i  look at you... but, just the same..i fall.

         (January 22, 2015)


Sally

Copyright May 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
*** Depressing old notes......no happy endings here...
      I heard, and wrote someone else's thoughts... never thought I would find myself in some situations within...***
mark david Apr 2015
To write, to write
Yes these words do excite...
A sleeping giant of sorts
Whose brow has not been tested
And how carefully invested -
Scrambled verse is attested
                                              To a rhymic riddled head
Ishana Singh Nov 2014
Even my shadow seems golden in the abyss that I call my residence;
even the water seems solid, frozen by silent darkness.
My screams seem like whispers,
their echoes alone reside with me.
A pariah in misery, clad in the darkness of despondency,
I shrivel like a dying flower with every passing moment.
I am my own confidant,
I am my own adversary.
Since, I am trapped alone in this dark monotony.  
I calm myself with the vanishing memories of summertime kisses;
I hurt myself with a hope of an escape.
With bites inflicted by my own teeth,
I’m a carnivore for my own flesh.
Yet my hunger is rendered frail,
since I still cage my soul inside this torturous chamber of flesh and blood.
I’m an unskilled hunter,
longing for my prey.
I still breathe breaths of biting indifference.
The unforgiving air slices my trachea like a sharp metal,
yet the cuts aren't lethal enough,
to free the trapped bird that my soul is,
yet the crimson isn't abundant enough to choke my lungs in my own misery.
The cage formed by my bones,
still restrict its flight.
Perhaps I will be my own escape.
Perhaps I will free the melancholy bird,
without the ****** of my tainted body.
But I am a reckless mother,
who let her child fall into this labyrinthine chasm.
I’m the almost lover,
guilty of somebody else’s union with darkness.

My carcass remains bruised and broken,
yet it is not putrid.
I still exist,
but in a different form.
The dark entities now rejoice,
for they are free to dance around me.
Embracing darkness with open arms,
I see no golden shadow anymore.
Since the light responsible for it being cast,
was extinguished by my own sinister blood.
Its golden ember now lost in crimson.
And that is how;
I witnessed my shadow’s demise.
Despondency...
painful monotony,
familiar quilt-
morphing into me
weaving waves
of tidal loss-
an itchy loneliness
Klaus Baumgarten Aug 2014
For sustenance we trudge on
Just to sustain
This callus equilibrium of fragile crystals
swaying in the wind, falling constantly
Employing the cleverest techniques of fleeting upward momentum
Short-lived displays of affection bleeding the small offering received at birth
endlessly replayed to our children's eyes
Despondent indentured servants scribbling through skin and tendons
Just to feed their families the rice they can no longer grow
And sending these fairy tales to the rosy-cheeked offspring of their oppressor's store bought dreams
To keep the oppression alive .
To operate at peak efficiency.
To transfer honest muscle through wire mesh.
And fatten.
And enfeeble
Enforce the prerequisites to match the scale's testimony.
Testify! Oh, Lord. We thank you for this meal stolen from our inferiors.
Please Please Please.
We demand pleasure. IT IS REQUIRED.
For if we feel sadness, then we have failed.
And we'll lay down what we don't have space in our engorged bellies for.
It will be placed, with all due honors, to our greatest shrine.
Where we are honest with our real Mother.
Where the proud, twicely worn, footwear of our warrior-spiritless cows rests
Where erections limp as collapsed towers, respected by false jihads, sleep.
Where dream's plastic refusal composts never; nourishing nothing.
Where potential is pure impotence.
The bed we all share.
Tomas Denson Jul 2014
My mind broke on Saturday night
shattered shards of control splintering through
what remains of a battered, weary psyche
slicing, cutting
thoughts spilling everywhere
slicing, cutting
thoughts spilling everywhere
SLICING, CUTTING
emotions bleed out
the sightless eyes of many
staring at me
as i fight the demons
that have escaped
staring at me
as i fight myself
staring at me
as i lose.
I don't want to fight anymore
i don't want to
i don't
i can't
staring at me as i fall
the demonic reflections vanish
everything fades
until i, too
am gone.
broken mind gone loss agony fighting despair despondency ending
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