The HILLS HAVE EYES,
The GROUND HAS EARS,
That'll CHILL YOUR BONES, and
BRING TO YOU FEAR!!!

BIG BROTHERS IS WATCHING,
Just to say the least,
As your ADRENALINE RUSHES, AND
YOUR HEARTRATE INCREASE!!!

YOU BETTER BE AWARE,
STAY FOCUSED, LOOK AROUND,
OF THE SILENCE AROUND YOU,
NOT A PEP OR A SOUND!!!

THE SILENCE IS EERIE, AND
I DEFINITELY AGREE,
SOMEONE IS LISTENING,
TO YOU AND TO ME!!!

YOU THINK YOU'RE NOT NOTICE,
HA, HA, THINK AGAIN!!,
SOMEBODY IS WATCHING,
BE WARY MY FRIEND!!!

SO, PLEASE BE ADVISED,
IT IS NOT A SUPRISE,
BE WARY AND WATCHFUL, for
THE HILLS HAVE EYES!!!!!


B.R.
Date: 2/28/2025

An olive branch,
in hot September,
on a bridge of embers,
entices the *** to stir.

But her table’s always empty,
even if food was plenty-
too broke, too broken
for any to gather around.

A med concoction,
from no other option,
except the great allure…

A barren planner,
hung on a sun faded wall,
by a nail ripping through
it’s cross-stitched heart.

This is what reminds her-
Reminds her she’s all alone.

Attempting to toss
into coordinates of comfort,
I fail to find a prime position
to support my heavy heart,
and to contain my racing mind.

A blanket–
always too stiff–
clings uncomfortably
to my spent body,
which I reluctantly trust
to wake up once more again.

A pillow–
always too flat–
smothers the thickening air
as my lungs try to
swallow reality once more.

I plea to the pause
fragmenting awareness
to rise and resume,
as the void encroaches
and consciousness escapes me.

To be able to take things like a breeze;
Let fate pass by in the flow of time ;
To be able to enjoy the little time we have in our short and sweet lives ;
A blessing indeed ;
A laugh as adorable as a lamb;
Eyes that shine in curiosity as of a new soul happy to be a part of the grand scheme of things ;
To be able to be in bliss in such a vicious cycle of life;
A free soul indeed.
                                          -Opal.

I met the edge of death – her blade slicing through my very
skin; cutting me into pieces; a piece of me died inside, haunting
my dreams like a spectre. My bucket of tears had run dry, in
a futile attempt to fill this glass bottle of forever, though it remains
a daydream.

Pop a cherry, somehow the shattering of innocence – levitating
in a bubble of love, praying to God it doesn't pop. I lived the
omnipotent experience, danced with the spectre of death, a cruel
and merciless partner in this dark waltz.  While the heart sleeps,
my brain still thinks – I lament the vision of a nobler self, confined
to the realm of my dreams.

In my quest for paradise, I only discovered the relentless paradigm
of a life wrestling all time left on its mind. I was once a love warrior;
now merely a worrier of love – the winds of my spirit propel the
arrow of my aspirations, yet I still falter in my aim.

As your brows furrow, rising to confront the shadows of doubt,
I reflect on a life marred by fear, despair, and unfulfilled affection…
yet, we may die inside tonight, just to live tomorrow!

Beyond my current state lies a distance
that feels even more distant than my
aspirations. A day of tranquility lives
solely in our daydreams,
beckoning the fragments of my being
to come back, urging my thoughts to
gather once more.

____

I am the void that lingers between the
stanzas of a flawless poem—words that
falter in their imperfection.
My voice is silent, with so much
to say - a paradox that leaves me frozen;
lingering moments before revealing your
vulnerabilities. Oh, the despair!
My faith lies fragmented and adrift—
these whispered prayers sway back
and forth, yearning to hold significance.

____

Do I hold any significance at all,
composed of the very essence of atoms
colliding in a chaotic dance?
"Dissolved," I melt into nothingness,
like ice under the sun, reshaping into
the visage of any soul that touches me,
flowing like water.

          Alas, I seem to be dead again!