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Chloe Dec 2021
Searching for something
that stars with “S”
and ends in “tonin”
to heal my thoughts.

Just hand me a cigarette
I already have cancer
of the soul

Searching for something
that starts with “Oxy”
and ends in “tocin”
I drain the ocean
from me
as it drains from you

Just prescribe me
the ******* Prozac
I’ll never feel pleasure
ever again, anyways

Is there a cure for dry mouth?
John McCafferty Oct 2021
Continue to process the words in your head, extracting these whispers which simply linger and listen to each of those gifts delivered.
Pick up on the frequencies which ring in sync, with a tone clear to hear that's felt from within, risen up from our chest to the head as it spreads.

Draw in a line between each speckled dot, removing the fog to make sense of our self, helping unclog built up tears often hidden. When we try to grasp traits from silent ideas, varied trickle effects help let go of the fear.
Prioritised tasks edge out further unclasped, where the forward thinking sinks in amongst us.
Contemplative thought of feelings less said,  as helpful hints given are informed well ahead.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
And playing the moon game
With the last vestiges of sin
All a memory forgotten
Have no fear
Drink it in
You children of
The Valley of
Ten Thousand Smokes

The life in you
Has passed on
John McCafferty Oct 2020
Translating emotional state
Takes some discipline and listening
From thoughts to words in place
Don't lose sight of actions in flight

Tame the beast before it feasts
Monkey brain reframed
As allowing a creature out of a cage
isn't necessarily the best way to participate
Elevated above this primate state

Contest shortness of breath in the chest
Slow feelings in controlled action
Pause for a rest and step left in turn
Observe the effects that reflect on you best
To check what you've left
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Veritia Venandi Aug 2020
The white luminary finally sketched itself along the lines of the dark canvas sky...

And my serene heart suddenly went out of the way...

To spill all my secrets to the watcher in the wild sobs and silent howls...

I hear ancient horses neigh and the crickets seem to be in a frenzy...

Could I have helped myself from spilling my own secrets...?


Somewhere deep inside the ocean... a sleeping oyster wakes to expose it's pearl bed to the same haunting shadow in the sky...

It looks up to the brooding moon in question of how it forces without force...

To come out of your hiding... Naked to the core!

The oyster too wonders aloud :Could I have concealed my mystery a little further?
Recently I came across an article that spoke of the way the moon affects all of nature. For on new and full moon nights the oysters seem to open up, planktons seem to change their positions... Horses behave differently... And even our moods are effected in a way we can never fathom!
Thus, the mystery of the moon continues...!
Thanks for reading this! ❣
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
I remember the Fall
I remember the bokeh

Placed in a vase and kept by our bedroom

It took your breath away, fed off your lungs
and grew so monstrous by dark

We tried in vain to replace what was lost
with the artificial:

Albuterol haze, Gaussian distribution

It failed, as you know

And I too fell within the blur of the rebound effect,
struggling to keep from panic

Then rang alarums that lay-in-wait, then came red lights,
then came shouting for help

You laid on the livingroom floor, intubated

Life nearly snuffed out

Me in tremors, two cats hiding

You would survive, but neither of us would
ever be the people before

Clearly, not all blur is equal, each has its own aesthetic quality

Mine tends to fall under the umbrella of disturbing thought patterns

We each reflect on different things
about that day

My fail-safe is trying not to remember at all
This poem is a companion piece to my wife, Mrs. Timetable's work 'How It Reminded Me of Fall,' also here on HP. It recalls a very dark day several years ago, when a reaction to a bad medication nearly took her life.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch

A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember

now that I cannot forget.

And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember ...
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh,

our soft cries, like regret

... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...

now that I have forgotten her face.

Published by Poetry Magazine, La luce che non muore (Italy), Carnelian, Triplopia, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry Life & Times, The Eclectic Muse, Strange Road, Inspirational Stories, Kritya and Centrifugal Eye

Keywords/Tags: Memory, effects, affects, hair, ringlet, neck, moonlight, vapor, evaporate, bra, clips, wire, lace, flesh, dimpled, kisses, erase, name, face
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