Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ken Pepiton Feb 2019
wisdom is the principle thing

we are pulled into the future
not pushed from the past

all things are possible, in re-al
life, as we know it.

fast yes slow fast
yes
slow fast

big loop, rogue wave

rogue hole
how could this happen
--
time umph bump

each of us is making waves
all o'us, right, all the
wees where your bubble inter
sects connects
===
touch touch touch touch touch
tictictictictic
tip

pass that, past that's this

wave forms in Higgs or whatever
we've us a particularity
clapotis, real word
lapping waves it means,

t's a phenomenon related to walls,
not all waves pass
some splash at the surface
while undermining the
wall below

eventually such waves eat walls
WHy is there anything? Inter-restin thought.
lovelywildflower Oct 2018
darling, you know exactly how to make my heart remember how to love
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!

Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:  
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'

Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?
One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!

Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:  
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'

Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?

One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!

Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:  
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'

Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?
ardnaxela Jul 2018
The clouds of Pompeii
had nothing on his heart.
An eruption of UNCERTAINTY
then
his world e-x-p-l-o-d-e-d.
lights extinguighed,
joy (deleted).
Night is now who was once Day.
Corruption of a steaming bliss.
Darkness gripped his mind -
insomnia, coupled with a blind-ness..
that could only be caused
by some serious disruption....
like the ash of Pompeii when it settled
or the pain of a burnt page.
I'm sorry Teddy.
f Jul 2018
I didn’t sleep tonight
Well.
I did something kinda
I never remember being a typical child. I was always wary. And very aware of everything. And I can’t remember a time where my brain wasn’t bouncing around, inquisitive. No matter who you are, there are small things you do that aren’t actually unique. All humans twitch in a spot on their face when they’re disgusted. We all have a nervous tick. Etcetera. Knowing this as a child made me very self conscious. My ego would say it made me self “aware”. But I watched my movements. And paid attention to my nervous tick. Phrases I would pick up and find amusing, and why. I was so careful not to do anything that would put me in a vulnerable spot. I wanted to be perfectly unnoticeable.
And I decided tonight, I’d go through the years that were especially hard for me and addresss the trauma in a chronological order.
Some of my very first memories ever in my life were of violations. I was touched and caressed, but not by my mother. This terrible man with a bit of a belly. And I would have thought it was normal, except for the sick bottomless pit in my stomach. And my rigid muscles. And it hurt sometimes.
Then I remember being with my mother. And staying at the white house with the flower pots filled with cigarette ash instead of soil. And I kinda liked it. The flower pots I mean. But I absolutely loved being with her. So many memories with her. So many sunny memories.
But I started seeing her less and less. And it was just weird. And uncomfortable. I had somewhat numbed myself, and hence there were many years spent I’m a daze. I was dreaming. But it was a melancholy dream. And I remember the foster kids my parents fostered. And they made me do things with another family member. Multiple times. And it was just so odd to me that this would happen, I didn’t know if this was normal or not. But I thought all this time I was somehow responsible and I’m trouble. Or at least, if I discussed this with any adult, it would be entirely unorthodox. Ludacrious.
And there was so much pain.
Then I had grand mal serizures (or however you spell it idc) for around two years I think. Only about like 8? Seizures. But every time it happened I just felt my memory going away. It was the strangest sensation. I would lose an entire week here or there, and days after they happened I would be a little dysphoric. And maybe there is a god that had mercy on me, and gave me those seizures as a way to literally forget some of what I had been through. Or repress I guess.
Anyway, then I was a very charismatic, secretly introverted girl during junior high. I had my first kiss and it really ******. It was just... tense-*** lips smushing against mine. I also had my lips closed though because I didn’t know you parted them for kisses. Like I had always seen my mom and dad do a quick peck so I didn’t know what to do really. But he said I was a good kisser, but what junior high boy wouldn’t say that about any girl he kissed tbh.
And I became VERY devout in the religion I had been raised in. Full-on future missionary. I read the scriptures frontto back multiple times. Blah blah blah.
Then I met my first love, and there was an electric shock that went through my body. I was mesmerized by this feeling. I shook his hand, told him my name, and he told me his. That went on and off from 9th? Grade? until I graduated and a little after. It was a long relationship, full of a lot of different times. Good times, bad times. But mainly we were toxic to each other. We didn’t know how to love properly. He was fighter, who believed he was the king of kings. And I thought that in every single way, he was. I was truly bewitched. And he’d hold me tight, and wouldn’t let me go, even when I wanted to be let go. He collapsed at my feet and sobbed in my lap. And I did the same with him. We were so wounded, but similar. And found solace and endless banter in a moment together.
At this point my mother died. And I travelled barely out of state to attend her funeral. I saw all of my siblings. And stuff slowly started coming back to me. Weird snippets of early childhood existence. I couldn’t process it all, and so I emotionally shut down for the billionth time. But my first love was here for me.
Leaving a note on my doorstep that I remember particularly. “On sunny days, on rainy days. You are just as sweet.” With cherry blossoms.
Funny, my mother smelled like Japanese cherry blossoms.
So eventually we had raging hormones, young teens, and we started becoming intimate. But I was rigid. And in the back of my head, I knew why. I had repressed the repeated acts of abuse throughout my entire life. But I just wanted to forget about that. It didn’t make sense, I loved him, so why should I shy away from physical/****** interaction. I believed I was broken, something more was wrong with me. And one night he fingered me, I guess he had learned that from watching ****? Because I had no idea what he was doing. And it hurt because I wasn’t even wet. But I just was silent with a clenched jaw, not wanting to be a disappointment. The next thing, I lost my virginity to him. And what’s funny is the way he convinced me to is by saying, “For Science!”
I still find that amusing. I was like 17 or 18 I think and still a ******. I should have stayed one. The first time we had *** and I lost my virginity just seemed like I was sleepwalking. I was watching myself interact sexually with him, but I wasn’t present. Every single time I was sexually abused rushed back to my mind. And I felt as though somebody had cut off my limbs, severed my head, packed my whole body (piece by piece) into a business briefcase. And walked out the door with my body.
After that I kind of freaked out. Just too much going on. I couldn’t handle it. And my first love tried to **** himself in the months following. I think, after almost four years of companionship, we had *** only a handful of times, and it got easier and easier for me. But he tried to **** himself after we were “off” again. So I went right by his side, trying to piece together his life so he could be at peace. And not have the turbulent mind he had. And we were together. But then I had gotten up the courage to break it off again, and for good. We needed to move on. I knew what I was going to say to him, I knew I wanted to be close and have one last moment together. Finality. Closure.
But he said, “you kissed another guy. You cheated on me.” And in my head I was like no **** really what about the multiple girls that were your “friends” that you cheated on me with. Throughout the entire relationship? But I said yes, he kissed me. And I’m sorry. And he said, “We’re done.” And got up and walked off, leaving me on the curb in front of his house. No words can describe the torture it was to finally be done. And to have it be on his terms, with no closure. He was so cold. I hated it when he was like that. It was like looking in a mirror.
And that’s all I can talk about.
Funny timing, it’s 7:30 am. No sleep since yesterday at 8:00 am. Ramblings of a tormented soul.
But that was the thing I did tonight. Remember my earliest memories, and go through my life in chronological order. Accepting that it happened. At least to this point. I think I’ll keep going tonight, we’ll see.
But it’s wednesday, and I definitely need to shower for work.
-nobody
7 - 11 - 16
PoetryHeals Jun 2018
Sitting in a dark room:
At peace.
With every single lifeless and lively thing around me. But more importantly with myself.
Staring outside my window.
A window I have gone to countless times but somehow right now it's different. A good kind of different. That one perspective every depressed and suicidal kid you wish has had. So they could see how beautiful life could be. So they could feel the greatness within their soul and revive their fire.
24th January 2018. Thoughts of a senior year student marching into adulthood.
i held a life in my hands today
and tried to give it back
but could not
she had fallen too high
into the light
and my breath fell short
perhaps she paused
perhaps she knew
i see her face again
when she was young
when she was who she was
and it will always be there
framed in light
pure as breath
alive with the promises
of youth
several years ago I was called to a room where a woman had stopped breathing. I started CPR...first time I had ever done it...and continued until the emt's arrived. they zapped her with the defib and got a heartbeat. I've never spoken to her. I wrote this before I realized she had survived a long period of rehab.
misty Dec 2017
i sit here in my room
wondering and scanning through
all the places that i have been to
i look myself in the mirror
blood and emotions coursing through
but thinking twice,
about pulling the trigger
Next page