Even in my sleep,
My soul searches
for you

We met in the middle at half past noon on the road that led to nowhere. I could see the stars were shining a little more bright on this cold December evening and the snow beneath are feet kept us dreaming of warm honey and lavender tea. Sugar dropped from the trees onto our minds full of dreams of what we could be. We met in the middle at half past noon on the road to nowhere and I don’t know my way home but I’ve found you now and I’m tired of searching for a we everyone told us we could never be.
Lavender tea
I've got a bone to pick with you.
We've known one another for years.
You consider us the best of friends.
I consider us acquaintances.
Do you know why?

All your stories blend in
to a mess of intersections,
impossible touch.

Do your confabulations
keep you warm on cold nights?

I've got a bone to pick from you.
Calcium white, high arrogance.
Irish child solider? Didn't you say
you spent your childhood here, in the states?
I'm unimpressed.
Do you know why?

You have two friends like you,
too self satisfied for learning.
I'm pissed as fuck, I guess.

I'd like to meet a person,
curious so interesting,
moving water through mangroves,
glancing roots, then running on.

I must spin your transparent lies
into comedy. For me.

All your stories blend in
to a mess of intersections,
impossible touch.

I understand, now, this is common.
Truth is, I can't throw a rock
without hitting a man like you.
Elizabeth Aug 7
And it was one step closer to the end. I left my apartment with no mind of where to go but I heard him shout “hurry up you don’t have much time until you grow up” so here I am with a pocket full of change and optimism. Down thirty first street the drummers drum thier roll, I step to the beat, I count the patterns with my feet. I still have no mind of where to go or where I am going but, I must  hurry before I get old. My favorite coffee shop I pass, the smile of the freckled boy almost lured me in but I felt it’d be best to just walk right past. I hold my head down so no one sees me escaping my past and entering a future so foggy I can’t even find my way. I don’t worry about tomorrow or what the sidewalks will bring for I must hurry before I get old. I pass the sign that tells me where I am headed and it is one step closer to the end
I hope you find your way
Janna Jul 31
The hand of my Creator
Was knocking on the door step
Of my heart
Patiently waiting
Always seeking
His lost daughter and child
To return into His mighty arms
- soulwriterj
I found my way back home.
Hopeful Cynic Jul 31
It’s remarkable how now free, I am still in debt,
My soul mourns for its lost raison d'être,
I take steps to distraction for my neurosis to be pacified,
Though even when I convince myself I’m happy, my heart knows I lied.

I flit like a mayfly from diversion to recreation,
Doing what I can to survive this amputation,
Yet in a mayfly’s tiny existence what good are the stars,
Having seen the moon once, it’s brilliance would dominate his memoirs.

From the chaos which ensues a method can be gleaned,
A rhythm lying hidden in the embittered cacophony of my quarantine,
Nature abhors a vacuum, so the mayfly toils to fill it,
That space where once before love and contentment would sit.

The search yields many temporary results,
Momentary pleasures, suffocated by the loss in which he is still engulfed,
Ever looking, I find no release, only opiates,
It is evident now what I seek wears your face.

Flickering lights bring the mayfly to flights of many miles,
Yet he has only to look up to see beauty he can never reach despite all his wiles,
So it is that I arrive, at moments where I think I am happy once again,
Only to be haunted by your spectre, an eraser taken to a page I wish were written in pen.

It is obvious you were fine art, that my search is for your counterfeit,
But it’s impossible to find a counterpart, you and only you does your description fit,
And so the Mayfly at last looks down and speeds to his moon reflected in a lake,
He flies downward, ecstatic, not knowing it’s the last breath he’ll likely take.

The Mayfly is the shortest lived insect in the world, averaging a lifespan of 24 hours.
Tamara Walker Jul 29
Where is god in these swirling galaxies?
Maybe she is found in the peak of an eclipse
In a ball of gas in the ass of the universe
Purple moons orbit me to find he
Speak to me tomorrow morning
Rather I would say much more is another issue
Burning out the insides
Cause we are all made of star stuff
Very small piece from something very large called Plenty Words.
Dustin Dean Jul 29
What follows is not a tracing of steps
But an illumination of what we let
Become in an ambiguous reality
A hallucinating fine tuned fallacy
Each vastly different than the former
Merely, we are a stream of transformers
That will be everywhere at the end of time
Joshua Nai Jul 28

Did I smile?
Did i laugh without tears, did I shout, and screamed with no fear,
Did I dance? Did I pretend I am okay?
I am forgetful sometimes, so please remind me of my pain....

Did you miss me?
Did you see me in the stars,
Did you see me, as  I looked on the other side of the road, past the cars.
Did you see me, smiling from the moon, did you see me, warming you up at noon?
Did you see me, in between the leaves, did you see me as I danced while you're asleep....
Did you see me, as I shut your eyes.
Did you see me, as I kissed you from up high...as I sang a lullaby...
Maybe I haven't been noticing you God....
Next page