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M Vogel Feb 19

If I can so easily see (and so deeply love)

both sides of your multifaced self, don't you think
you also can start at least try seeing  and loving
yourself as equally beautiful (simultaneously, so) parts,
who's congruent sum so beautifully make within you,
  the whole?

Look at you shoot and scoot (run back and hide)
after never even (until now) having a taste of being seen
(and yes, Babe.. loved) for who it is that you truly are
( a beautifully.. goobery, complex sum of the whole)..
growing,  as you little by little embrace the truth,
and in doing so, have the broken-into-shards ,
tainted perspective within your trauma-stricken mind
become slowly rebuilt  and renewed  

    into an accurate picture of the true you..
Even if that picture is conveyed back to you  
as I hold the mirror's reflection up to you
(a reflection that your beautifully.. at times, open heart
paints upon  innerwall linings of my heart-infused soul)  

and then you admittedly (your beautiful honesty, again)
jet back into your world of daily distractions..
    So I say to you, beautiful girl..

It is you that chose to reveal to me your true self
in a way that I could so easily grasp  within all of who I am
as I struggled to keep myself from truly falling in love
with your gorgeously-blatant honesty..
  so I ask you once again--
Why would you so beautifully choose to  paint
your true self upon the inside of a man
that you knew and believed could actually  convey
the utter and beautiful reality
of that incredible picture back to you:
   but do it in such an unholy, sneaky way
   as to be able to bypass any and all of your intricate,
   security (survival) based defense system
   in a way that the true view of you could (and can)
   actually get through?

You fear the congealed congruency  of the truth
of your own consolidated glory,
   as if you are forced to live within the resignation
   that the  true  parts within you
   cannot co-exist  equally and simultaneously
   within you at the same time,
   without the (feared) unbearable tension
   and anxiety within you

    causing your own spontaneous annihilation.

But still, young Beautiful...
You  showed  me  you,  anyways.

You did not do it because you hate you,
that we can both agree on..
But the manufactured (created) you
has a whole world of relation (its own form of 'connection')
   built around  the you  that feels safe inside
   if the presented image to that world
               remains loved and cherished

But also, good as people that they are..  they find you..
   (you,  who so well emanates a self that congeals
                                with their emanated self).

..So when you enter into a room  
that you can truly breathe (as your true self)  in--
As you prepare to exit its beautiful doors,
you almost have to (temporarily) sever all there is of you
that you have so beautifully and tangibly painted (imprinted)
upon the insides of all of who it is that I am.

You are beautiful within your entirety.
I am not intimated by it,  nor am I threatened
by the possibility of its beautifully shining glory
being 'stolen away' by another. The gift of it all to me
is that you have chosen to reveal your true self to me
   even though you very well  knew
   what it was going to cost you--
   (the stronghold within your manufactured self)
And so now,  here you are--
   shaking and trembling   within the
   unprotected tenderness of your own,  newfound Glory.

You feel it here within these four walls
like you have felt it in no other place on earth,
..So why would you want to betray yourself
by running and hiding back into your detachment?
It is horrifying to be seen and loved like this, I agree..
   But think of this...

What if what is seen and felt (Loved)
within the four walls of this private room
we are in together here,
is the true taste  and pieces of True reality,
and most all outside of this,
only continual extensions of 'the game'.
What if this right here is how life (love)
was truly meant to be experienced  and lived,

and most all other things out there..
just a well-built and contrived (machine) of distraction.

Let your own heart be your guide.  
You can sit and play my guitars
while you unfold so beautifully (as you so well do)
right in front of me. In turn..
and through day after day
of me being there for you like that,
your beautiful war-torn mind will slowly
(and then, quickly) become renewed.

It will all be about (and for) you..
and when you have had your fill,
you can punch me in the nose
for my having a hand  in plunging you
into "the horror" of it all,
   But you truly also for the rest of your life,
   will never be the same.

You are fascinating to me in all of your brilliant-minded,
gorgeousness. You are absolutely beautiful, kid.

This is what is truly real.  This.

Think about it, there must be a higher love
Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above
Without it, life is wasted time
Look inside your heart, and I'll look inside mine

Things look so bad everywhere
In this whole world, what is fair?
We walk the line and try to see
Falling behind in what could be

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?

Worlds are turning, and we're just hanging on
Facing our fear, and standing out there alone
A yearning, yeah, and it's real to me
There must be someone who's feeling for me

Bring higher love (My love)
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?


Turning her head
as if to  bury  it all
back under the covers..
This hiding away
from me

from everything  about me
that could hold her

right where she is at--
This crazy holding

That cannot stop itself
That cannot keep  from doing
what it does
That cannot control itself
from what  it feels

every  time  she  shows  me
(who it is that she is)

She is anything
but a death  to me
whenever she sings,

whenever  she..

.     .     .

.."Wish I could write songs
about anything other than death
But I can't go to bed
without drawing the red,
shaving off breaths;

Each one so heavy,
each one so cumbersome
Each one a lead weight
hanging between my lungs

Spilling my guts,
sweat on a microphone,
breaking my voice
Whenever I'm alone with you,
can't talk,

"Isn't this weather nice?
Are you okay?
Should I go somewhere else
and hide my face?"

A sprinter,  learning a way..
A marathon runner,
my ankles are sprained

A marathon runner
my ankles are sprained

a beautiful, sprained-ankle Angel
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2022
of dawn:

a sunny place
for shady people.

Long shadows
on the lawn
of a thin pixelated
in parade
of blood red

But your curtains
are always

You hide
smooth and sterile

Finish your
and stay for

Buildings aren't
people are.



Stand there...      wait
Don't stand there...    breathe.
don't breathe...    just feel

Nah.   Yeah..
Ya-sure...  breathe&feel

Or wait...   no..

Ah,  there it is...    Yasss.    Good girl.

When you ghost me
I get a *****

just talking to myself..
and whistling
and singing Winnie the Poo songs
Maurice May 2022
I smoke to forget
I fill my head up with clouds
like a thick fog on the ocean blue
so my memories are unable to cut through

To cover up and hide away
all of my pain and shame of yesterday
I smoke to forget
my life full of regret

Like my head's up my ***
I fill my head up with gas
and feel relief from the fumes
that cloud up my room

As I lay here, I languish
contemplating my own demise
for when I look in my mirror
the eyes I see, I don't recognize

Because I fill my head up with smoke
so I don't have to evoke
all of my pain and shame
I have hidden away since yesterday
lua May 2022
the power of a broken heart
fills my cup
and my fingers tremble
and shake when i lift the tear stained glass
i want to be alone
drunk on my sorrows
finally having the right to do so
after so long
of hiding in plain sight.
Julie Grenness May 2022
Are you scared of ghosts?
Is one hiding under your toast?
What is that creaking sound?
Whoops, your poster just fell down!
From my book, More Verse on the Skids. Feedback welcome.
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