junky junky on my head
I have good bread
Today beautiful day
I'm on my way

Pretty Clouds in the sky
My friend saying its all right
It's only true
U-hu-hu-hu-huu

junky junky on my head
I have good bread
Today beautiful day
I'm on my way

Great Rocket in the sky
And cosmos in my mind
Great world today
Great making way

Great trees
And great grass
Great cheese
Forever
no only now just


junky junky on my head
I have good bread
Today beautiful day
Im on my way

It's only true
U-hu-hu-hu-huu

2017
Maxim Keyfman Jun 28
Today yesterday tomorrow  Blasts my head
That friend that girl   blast my head
Today yesterday tomorrow  blast my head
That the holidays that school Blasts my head

Blasts my head
Blasts my head
Blasts my head


Let me be the one you blast me
I'm so tired
I'm so tired


Today yesterday tomorrow  Blasts my head
That friend that girl  blast my head
Today yesterday tomorrow  blast my head
That the holidays that school Blasts my head


Blasts my head
Blasts my head
Blasts my head

Blast
Blast
Blast my head

Blast
Blast
Blast my head


Ahh ahh

All over.

2016
Lyn-Purcell Jun 24
My mind seems to float
in shadows of rising mist
Mysteries of time
I think I think too much...
Be back soon
Lyn xxx
KM Hanslik Jun 21
So many straws to grasp for, but I always choose the ones
that try to kill me
the ones that pound in my head, the ones that tear
holes in my stomach from the anxiety, so much air to breathe but mine is all
tainted with poisons
that make their home in my lungs and keep my breathing
staggered and shallow, I think roots are growing
where the soil is at its worst and what's emerging is stunted
and riddled with abnormalities; I know my body is charred
from throwing myself into the fire & I know my hands
may never stop shaking and they may know better
how to maim than heal, but I am trying
(they don't believe me)
I am desperately trying
to clear this air, to kill these weeds
seeding themselves through my skull,
it's just that my weapons are broken & my eyes are bloodshot
but I'll keep raking my hands through this soil
keep trying to uproot what is growing here
what is growing so tangled & gnarly,
the sun hasn't shined for a while and I wonder how it has the chance to live
in all this darkness, but I guess
some things are better left in the shade
I guess maybe I am one of those things,
I guess I haven't seen the sun for a long time.
My hands will be warm again,
just not right now
but I'm still waiting.
KM Hanslik Jun 21
This may not be much and
I thought we were done here, but
I don't want to be cold
I don't want to be cold,
I don't want to be cold
anymore
and these poisons are slowly seeping
through my bloodstream, crawling
Like something alive and dangerous
I don't like when my hands shake but at least I'm angry enough
To care, or at least it comes out between my teeth instead
of being soft, instead of dissolving
on my tongue like everything else, instead of
tears pooling over my cheeks; I guess I'm not as gentle
as I used to be and I think I break things
a lot more than I should, but we're all
a little pointless anyway, we're just kind of
drifting
like paper bags, just
useless & discarded, tumbling
aimlessly without a purpose
to grasp for;
You tell me to take it one
catastrophe at a time, but all I can think of is blood
pooling over floorboards and all I can think of is
how I can't breathe right now, how much I want to breathe; & you say
"this will pass", but what you never mention
is how it will  come back, and I
will be here alone and that's
Just how it always goes.
Sorry, this one's a bit sad & not good. Might delete once the #mood passes.
Like black and white keys on a piano
They fit like hand to glove
Darkness strengthens the light
And the light contrasts the dark
To play a song on the ivory key only...would be unlikely
To only play your song on the ebony key may start to sound out of tune
Therefore play your life song on both the ebony and the ivory keys
And you shall find a melody
Your life song of harmony
For there is darkness in the light
It makes the light shine brighter
And there is always a light in the dark
Written by Sean Achilleos 2013©
www.facebook.com/SeanAchilleosOfficial/
Amazon: Sean Achilleos 'An Affair with Life' The Philosophical Poems of Sean Achilleos
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grace snoddy Jun 16
a body filled with familiar dread
you might say my body is already dead
my head is said to be quite fretful
took moments of quietude for granted;
and now i’m constantly regretful

the restlessness of my emotions
address my state of mind
and the distressed thoughts run around my head like guerrilas
they know they are running out of time
my jittery heart runs rampant
like a broken clock
and my only wish is for all of this to stop

the apprehension creates a detonation
a complete eradication of my elation
because my body is filled with familiar dread
and my body feels like it’s already dead
Amanda Jun 15
One more sleepless night for me
Haunted by every mistake
I'd rather be in dreams, asleep
My mind forces me to stay awake.

My eyes wide open against my will
The hours tick slowly away
I anxiously wait to drift off
So I won't have to suffer the next day.

My brain races, wonders, explodes
Wandering beast of demise
Meandering along its determined path
Despite loud echoing cries.

Each wretched nightmare I undertake
Is while sleep provides no relief
I lie in silence hoping for
A bit of rest, no matter how breif.

At last, my head breaks free from chains
Dozing, I'm happy I win
Dreams only last for so long
Until the next miserable day can begin.
Sleeplessness is killing me
Yup, you red correctly,
     this noggin must go
     perhaps donated
     to the Salvation Army, or Good Will
cuz, said atrophied cranial
     horridly styled comfortably numb skull,
     the source of immeasurable

     beg hot ten woe, from dawn to dusk
     nothing boot eve ville
hollow cavity mainly comprised
     of wooly webbed weaving waste,
     uber sawdust, sans Schuylkill
     River effluvium and runoff rotten rill
hence, e'en a think tank

     designated as Abby Normal
     formerly atop a body named Phil
lip, or Wright winged Orville
one half brotherly duo,

     the other sibling Wilbur,
     whom both made a mill
yen legends getting airborne their lil
mechanical contraption

     atop Kitty Hawk,
     North Carolina with bi sic kill
mechanical aptitude,
     when born aloft Kill Devil Hill

synonymous making fin hushed
     blue prints emulating
     flying fish, whose grill
like cartilage backbone

     precursor to Evil
Knievel, who soared
     on his motorcycle a devil
lush daring stuntman,

     whose helmeted crown
     full pursestrings muted cavil
ling critics with legitimate enterprise
     earning gobs of legal tender,

     whence aye aver
     his mugshot ought to appear
     on common denomination bill
and/or honoring throughout
     the entire month of April.
Amanda Jun 6
I woke, a leaden blanket of dread,
Trapping my brain, muscles feel dead,
It was hard to talk, harder to move,
Six hours later, still waiting to improve.

Up high, where I want to be,
Like the clouds, I can be free,
Shedding drops in form of words,
Flying from my pen, punctuated birds.

Blur lines between fiction and fact,
Until my heart feels intact,
Poetry heals poisonous burns,
But will not settle my stomach, so on it churns.

It is a burden bringing this bleeding body from bed,
I ache, the heaviest part is my head,
It's too full of regret and shame,
I do not know why every day starts the same.
I always wake up on the wrong side of the bed.
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