Scott Hamsun Jan 9

I dream once again of pastures gold.
Of midnight jesters, and pleasures old.
I remember the scent of the forest,
The Moss and the snow.
(Did I know?)
With sober certainty of waking bliss,
I look upon Willows red and chestnuts green.
Will I wake one day to find my body aching?
The thought never occurred.
So I continued.
And stood passive to see
corporate Christmas lights-
bridge lights at One AM.
(Og missikken stopper)
Hiking through ruins and fairy tale cedars
to roadside gas stations and gone under theaters.
Under the shadow of the hills at dusk.

The scent of coffee fresh to sell
drifts past us on our way
to fast food parking lots beside midnight hotels.
Music and roses late at night.
The sun beating down and blinding,
Once winter has broken free from the bonds of Christmas.

But I fret, I age and I fret.
(Will I do something that I regret?)
And how will I spend my time?
Imitating an aging cat?
I would rather watch the cars at night by the water,
music paused
than drive myself.
I've considered my ways and turned my feet.
I will remember my song in the night;
I will meditate with my heart.
And why? Out of all I did, why did I never have the mind to ask:
“When all is done what will I say?
Will I regret a single day?”
And what did I think when I said:
“I have time to hesitate,
to make my plans but decide to wait.”
To count every grain of sand and call it de rigeur
To give up early and call it a tie.
to turn off the light but not know why.
I should have been born a floating balloon.
I should have dragged myself through the trees.
And I watched my life.
I revised my dreams
to fit reality.
And was it worth it?
May I reverse the clock?
And did I spend too much time tending the lawn,
And not appreciate the grazing fawn?
(Og missikken stopper)
I find now that I bore my own hell.
And I only vaguely recall
the trips I took, yes, I forget!
(or regret?)
And what motions did I follow?
Shall I give up? Am I defeated?
(When did my hair get so thin?)
Now I've grown weary with my moaning
and the cycle will soon burn out.
Shall I give up what I began?
I must be defeated.
No.
I shall remember not the former things, nor consider things of old.
I shall walk along the pier as the water grows cold.
But Again I hug the shore and allow others to brave the deep.
(Og missikken er over)
And I look back
at many summers many false love
Nothing else causes such pain.
And perhaps a few were true.
But that, I refuse to accept.

But most importantly I remember
the sisters of grace.
Who tended to me so kindly
So I walked with caution. For I had the map.
But I fell, I fell.
I said:
“I shall make this damp cave my home.”
And asked:
“But which one?
Who is it that I love?
I feel so strongly for both though I cannot choose
I must climb from my hole”
But I couldn't move, I wouldn't dare
(Its worth a try, just look at her hair.)
I'll have to decide
or else just let my feelings die
So Again, I chose to wait, I waited too long
And just as they came the sisters were gone.
Leaving me behind. I don't claim them wrong.
(Og missikken stopper)
My back now hurts, my knees crack.
And was it worth it, to plant a garden alone.
Is it worth it when the bald spot on my head has grown,
and what I called joy was merely a clone
and you find that you never had a home
and love did come but you let it go?
Was it worth it in the end
to build a god of desire?
(When did my bed grow so uncomfortable?)
A god out of reach.

But at last they sing and usher in dawn,
Till our eyes finally open, and we're gone.

Don't let life pass you by
Allen Faust Jan 5

How bad can I be? I’m part of you!
I do the things that you wouldn’t do.
I talk to that girl, I flirt with that guy.
Why, without me you might as well die!
I am the fun that you throw away,
the memories you burn at the end of the day.
I am the things that you wouldn’t brave,
the people you damned and still couldn’t save.
Why am I here, well that’s simple too.
I’m all the fun parts of boring old you.

Comments and criticism appreciated.

Or perhaps death wouldn't be that bad,
At least it would save my soul from feelings had,
Or just one day ill wander off,
No trace left behind no strip of cloth,

The death i currently face is full of pain
As i watch my blood pool into the drain,
The sword in my chest protrudes out the other side,
As I wheeze along pain in each stride,
And though ill greet each face and spurt a lie,
I know at the end of the day ill face the pain I hide.

One day.
One time.
Some reason.
Some rhyme.

Or at least i hope. as none can see what is ahead,
But that fades from my view as I keep pleading to be dead.

And what a deep man am I? always boasting of great inner strife?
Oh so troubled by evil what a pondering man who leads such a life!
I cannot feel but as the last leaf to fall.
Alone, afraid, and none to call

Slowly
Wilting
Fluttering
Downward
Descending

Chelsea Rae Dec 2017

They all say they want to talk about something deep.
They all say they want to open up their minds,
go further than regular minds can think.

Then when they get the chance to open up they run and hide
Or they serpentine past all the things
that might have made them change
and they just go by living off the saying that they "tried."

They think they know what they want but they aren't a poet.
They aren't here in the deepest parts of the ocean.
Their minds don't drift on the wind and hear the song it whispers.
They can't feel this emotion.

It's no one's fault.
It must just be a gift at birth,
But they aren't here to unearth
the things that swirl around their hearts or
the ships that sail on their devotions.

They can barely taste the drops that drench their souls
Because they simply just don't know.

I guess that's why we're here
To write and to feel
all that they can't muster
and even though I get flustered
I just don't belong to the world
Where a feeling can be explained as
Simple.

Being a poet makes you different.
Pentanomical Nov 2017

Sometimes at night I wonder when I'm gone
Will you all remember me or move on
All that matters in the end is my legacy
Let's just hope this story won't end up a tragedy
One word two words
Couple more then it turns into a chapter
Turn the next page comes another
The story of my life is simple
Just like any other

But is that all that is though
Can I accept it as it is though
If I write these words down will anyone know
Who will I be remembered as
A great man, a father, or just some jackass
Will I be able to live up to my dreams
Or will it be lost to the past

Past, present, future
It is this thought that we nurture
That's just our nature
Against all the naysayers
Telling us to grow up
We hope that one day we'd blow up
And touch the sky
Hoping life would give us wings to fly
But I still don't know why

I once thought all it took was happy thoughts
But no matter how hard I fought
I couldn't make these voices stop
Sowing doubts in my head
Saying my life will be a flop

Don't know who to trust
Don't know what to do
Don't know how to get through this
I'm screaming at the top of my lungs
Throwing up my fists in the air
As if to fight an enemy that's not there
But I know exactly where he is
The enemy's inside
And that's the best place to hide

Aniseed Nov 2017

You didn't know I saw you
Watching my train rumble away

A perfect stranger
Arms draped through the barred gate
When everyone behind you
Heaved lumber in indifference

I saw you curious
And I wonder if it lingered
When we disappeared

You see, every time an
Opportunity leaves me,
It leaves me violently
Like a bullet
And it scars,
Torments

Then I'm left with purple prose,
Nostalgia,
And bitterness over what
Might have been

Prepping for a move and stumbled across one of my newer old journals (Is that an oxymoron?)
Trevor Dowe Nov 2017

He died of a chronically broken heart, having fallen in love with the spark in almost everyone he met. It was always some combination of their beauty, talent, and personality. While he was always supportive of them and did his best to make them feel good, he was too afraid to tell them what he felt. Those little secrets tore his heart to shreds and he slowly withered away.

Daniela Marie Nov 2017

There comes a moment
Fear looks differently
And my pain seeps towards you undoubtedly

I open my eyes
With reason to fight
My first chance at love is nearing in sight

Couldn't do it then
When it was just me
The quiet grew loud and I would just flee

I'm sorry my dear
I'm just not so good
Wasn't until now that I understood

I was lost before
No reason to try
Until your smile lit up my whole life

So if not for me
But for who I love
My reason to fight and lift us above

Lap Oct 2017

I'm scared of myself.
Sometimes.
Thoughts will softly bubble up to the ceiling of my conscience,
brushing past rational thinking
and emotional knowledge,
and burst.
The sound startles me.
How could I've let that happen?
How did the bubble even form?
I'm not one to carelessly release the airtight seal
that keeps out unwanted visitors.
I fear more bubbles, but assure myself it's just a fluke.
This doesn't happen to people like me.
Surely.
Sometimes.
But more scared that I'm the only one.

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