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In dreams I see your face again
Always makes me smile
Wish I didn't have to wake up
When asleep I'm happy for awhile
Every dream eventually fades
Crow Mar 2022
what is the measure of sorrow
is there a standard unit
against which we may rule
an overladen mind
and a heart demolished

graphing with infinite precision
each shattered hope
and marking the dimensions
of dreams ground to dust

are tears numbered
or more properly
and accurately accounted
by volume
or weight

shall we assign a value
on a sliding scale
to the mutilation
of a human soul

can we make comparison
among various torments
or attempt to visualize
in a chart of bright colors
splashed on a screen
the lifelessness of one person
to that of another

is despair loss
or hope denied
might it be joy withheld

does suffering
have weight and volume
that we might
determine its mass

is it instead a void
where something which
was present
has been removed

is it possible to create
an image of wretchedness

a ruined and rotting
playground of lost innocence

a charred and crumbled husk
of a home shattered

an arid uninhabitable waste
of aspirations unbirthed

with what pigment
shall we produce such art
which color wheel
will be used

in what earthly perdition
are the gauges found
reading the depth of misery
or the height of anguish

what is the magnitude
of the grief
the touchstone of devastation
against which all other grief
must be measured
Metrology - The study of measurement

Slava Ukraini
inthewater Jan 2022
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, what "is"
Has no "never be's"
Pictures, now, are strange to me

A snapshot back to a certain future
Laughter shared; tears, too
It precedes my doubtful memory
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, what "is"
Lives indefinitely
Unaware of what will never be
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Printed pieces of boundless time
Whose citizens are full of life,
Safe from looming trajedies
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, who "is"
Are now all ghosts
Free, from framed captivity
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Following the recent deaths of some family members, I've been looking through old photos and finding ones where one to all people have since died; the photos are becoming more bittersweet to me. I think it can be the same for people who are no longer in our lives for other reasons, too. I catch myself thinking "if only they knew..." but "they" is a totally different person because "they" haven't experienced "those" moments yet.
Bowedbranches Nov 2021
Here's to:

Shakey beginnings
and bitter ends
Peace pipe inhale
We bonding for the feel of it

We love the thrill
Of finding things
That undress our spirit
We love it so much

We made a skill of it

Peel another layer back
Unattach yourself
From comfy facets

We we weren't
                    willing to unravel
but
        We did
                                what we had to

Sappy for a sec

Let me react gradually

Without the need to rush things
Bowedbranches Oct 2021
Meatballs
And close calls
He can never seem
To quit cleaning..

Master of the matrix
May just be maintaining
I'd hate to malfunction

Once I understand
how it all works
It's my fault....

And now your hurt

Eventually convinced
I might be cursed
Because I can't
Hear the call..
No longer

Probably be hobblin'
Over
higher
hurdles
soon
And surviving rougher seas
Than I have ever seen

But,
Nobody can wage
A War like me

Sooo

Bring it!
Maria May 2021
Soft rains drift on winds of change
Pitter-patter on my window pane
Enchanting the Earth with life renewed
By playing an old, nostalgic tune
That brings back melodies
The years had erased
Immersing me in
Your forgotten embrace
And for a moment,
My darling,
I see your delicate gleam
Rising from the asphalt
In small bouts of steam
Dancing along the empty lane
Tormenting me in my lonely disdain
For I know
Our separation will be long
But until we meet once more:
Soft rains drift on winds of change
Pitter-patter on my window pane
Playing you my love song.
Can you hear it,
My darling?
Brandi Clark Apr 2021
So just call me dr. Frankenstein,
With this sick twisted need,
To bring the dead back to life.
Where did you go?
Who is this impostor?!
Ive turned everyone I love into monsters.
12/4/2014
Logan Turner Feb 2021
Claw marks on the walls
Cover my vision
All I can see
All I can breath
The sea of green that blankets me
There's been a breach
In cell sixteen

Ripped and picked clean
Sound of broken glass
A broken voice?
And soon all is silence except a sound cannot be described
Realises he must be the last
A son at the end of the corridor screams out for dads help
Shifting and phasing, a pulsating mass

These are dreams
I am he and he is I
Who am I then
Am I even me?
Senseless makes you panic
Panic makes it easier to rip and pull you clean
A whispering voice drills into the psyche

Funk plays in the distance
A favourite band
Followed by screaming you've never heard
Followed by the soundscape and the clawing
Follow it
Good.
Good ******* God

Wake up
The claw marks still pressing
The sickness inside
Find it
The only way
He's escaped from cell sixteen

Find him in his hole
The hole there
Yes
The hole there!
Climb in and find it
Pick and pull it clean

Can't take it back now
We've found a new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A comfy rocking chair
A nice new home in cell sixteen
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