I'm sick of hearing.
The thought of hearing one more story
That's not my own makes me wanna cry uncontrollably
I don't wanna listen.
To let how you feel tell me what to do
I'm sick of listening.

I'm sick of seeing.
Everyone else having it all put together
It makes my stomach turn to know that won't be me, ever
I don't wanna watch.
You live out what I want so eagerly
I'm sick of watching.

I want to feel.
To feel someone in my arms
And to feel the fire that might burn me to the ground
If it did, I would gladly let it
I'm sick of waiting.

I'm sick of losing.
To watch everyone leave or their shadows hunt me
To feel the warmth frozen by the cold in a tight embrace
I don't wanna win.
For as wining inevitably disappoints me

I want to be sick.
Sick in love and desperate
To be dizzy and dumb and stupid and young
Not to wear a cloak that hides me, lurking to swallow me whole
I want to be dizzy with desire.

Just for a blink I wanna see
the love they all see
And give in completely.

Hah
As I am understanding myself more and more
I am watching

My suffering,
Wanting to grasp its core.

Tons of shame and of blame.

My little self somewhere underneath
Trying to breath.

Every day when it's time to meditate
I allow my pain to rise.

Every time I'm hoping to arrive
At some deep new revelation.

But it looks as though
There is no final destination.

Looking at how I'm looking at myself.
Am I wasting my time?
There's nothing to see
Apart from Me and Me and Me.

Self-loathing, then holding myself close.
Because I remember to breath and to pause.
Because I remember about compassion.
But still, this process is much work.

I wish things were easier, lighter,
I wish I'd knew what I want to fight for,
I wish I'd understood my relationships better,
I wish I wouldn't blame myself for everything including weather...

I wish. I wish. I wish.

The hardest part is to let go,
Whatever that means.
It's as unsatisfying
As this poem's ending.

Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies

The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury

Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another

Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world

Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail

Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore

What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged  
Just to prove

The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies

Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant

Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive

A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour

Double-edged          
Double-standards
Double-dealing        
Double-meaning
Double-minded      
Double-jeopardy
Double-troubl­e        
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life

All propagated in
Double-time

Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!

“And the Lord’s servant
must not be quarrelsome
but kind to everyone,
able to teach,
patiently enduring evil,
correcting his opponents with
gentleness”

Why is it
That passion,
Anger- named zeal-,
Rebuke
Reproach,
And doom
Fill the tongue
Of those
Called to be
Peace-
Do you praise the one who cut off the ear
Do you praise those who would not hammer their swords to plowshares
Do you praise those who slaughtered men for their god
Do you praise those who use guns to silence their oppressors-
Is there no understanding?
Is there only passion?
Is there no Holy Spirit?
What fruit is born from your actions?
-
We were not called to destroy, but to be destroyed
We were not called to hate, but to be hated
Not to be loved, but to love-
Do we understand what it means to take up a cross
Can we patiently endure evil
Or must we destroy all evil
And evil doers-
Do we relish in our fallen enemies?
Do you find comfort that evil people go hell?
Do you enjoy their suffering
While never having suffered yourself-

May
The
Light
Pierce
Through
Every
Dark
Secret
Corner
And
Precious
Conviction
We
Try
To
Ignore
-
May
We
Change-
Be
Made
New-
Be
Better
Than
Before.

I was ever most faithful to my labour,
A duty that I never paid to man:
And even now, I am stripped of this favour,
No more am I my workplace's loyal fan.

I wish I could say our romance has cooled off,
That I'm not stirred by spreadsheets' disarray,
Alas, those items firmly must be ruled off,
And here the reasons be for this decay:

I was profoundly lucky in employment:
I worshipped bosses justly - they were gods.
I worked hard, in this toil I found enjoyment,
Because my contract listed all the odds.

I did not sign to slavery, dear Master,
I did not sign my health and bloom away,
I did not sign that you could be a b@st@rd
When things were simply not going your way,

I did not sign to poverty and worry,
I did not sign to papers gath'ring dust,
I did not sign that you cannot be sorry,
For I have rights, and note this down you must:

I did not sign to shoulder all these burdens,
Because they are not written on the page!
You cannot simply smile, and draw the curtains,
You cannot make us objects of your rage

When you yourself do run the ship so poorly!
I pity you, but pity is not love;
And thus I sign myself, proudly, and sorely,

A woman pushed to crashing by your shove.