Time is not flying
the evening hours are so slow, inching by
and spent tossing and turning
my restless mind roams dark avenues
my restless feet roam the bed,
left...right...then back, over and over.
the bed, that was my hammock....no longer sways
a promise of peaceful slumber, flies away,
new and strange images
start to trail me...they're heavy tassels,
tagging on the  hemlines of my mind,
seeking to connect...to be known
this late hour, i recall
a forked road, not far from a winding road,
from afar, a child admires a white castle
high as the clouds, its windows, foggy,
its high fence, mossy...on its front lawn
is a treehouse, perched...resting like a bird
inside a very old tree, leaning to its left side,
with a long set of steps...all painted white.
just below the white steps are gathered,
doyens of poetry...seated in their own chosen
corners...tacit, yet, empowered by their brilliant minds
the tips of their feathered pens, smoothly sliding on
paper......strange, that they're waving at me,
why, they could be dead!
i must be dreaming...my muse is showing
me paths, i would think twice of treading
a quartered moon selfishly glows
unsettles even more, my murky thoughts...
yet....my pressing thumb is on my journals
i must heed.........the need.
"o' my elusive unknown poem,
kindly show me...lead me to your home
let my pen give light to your dim path
give second wind to my weary mind and heart,
deny, even a bit of a space......for wrath,

help me, push me...my efforts musn't cease
show me your face...we'll both have peace."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 21, 2018
...started with a dream.....then scribbled...and scribbled...
I don't know if there is any sense in all these...pardon me, guys...
the bed is nestled in disarray puffed and creased and folded
all off kilter mattresses scratched up air pad
nightstand bruised by rings of white where water collected
laptop pushing yellow light weakly through the red currant smoke
its warm and inviting your face is tingling and a soft smile lurks.

the trip and walking in the storm

          in the rain neither wet nor dry
               skin neither hot nor cold but feeling

                    something smooth and searing pushing on the brain

               fierce winds and acute awareness

          a new phase an evolution a transformation
     it flings you up but pulls you down

to that sleepy groove in the shade.

dead leaves on the windowsill and the silhouette of leaves
cast on the fading white wood and the wind
flaps the torn up mesh a broken insect screen slashed up
stuck with my head in the blur and the sizzling haze
there's still sound in the skies.
Xaha 5d
All I can do is love or hate
Am i doomed to this bipolar state?
There's nothing in me I'd rather change
Than my ridiculous emotions - they are so strange!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

all my loves have left me
all my enemies too.
there's nothing in life like emotion
leaves you helpless and without a clue
Gnarled around
Your rotten core
Flesh and blood
Disintegrating gore

Shambling along
A decaying corpse
Eyes closed tight
Now they no longer work

Each tread endured
Drains your dirty soul
Never once worthy
Never once whole

Your thoughts run so filthy
For that you've always been guilty

So chant along
To the darkness that is night
The darkness that permeates
This stagnant life

Your on a desolate road
To your own destruction
Never able to exist
Without deaths seduction

Stripped of flesh
With every person you encounter
No sense of self worth
So your soul they devour
Your surrender to their torture
Gives them all of your power

Hang your head and take what's due
You know you deserve it
And know it's for you

Savouring the pain
That's stripping you bare
It's all you understand
A demonic affair
Demons possess you
In this unholy lair
Always together
As your life they snared.
Ella Apr 6
Black squids growing around orange trees
Tablecloths and lollypops and purple bees
Fingernails biting your teeth
The pillow always goes underneath
Draw the yellow candles
Hanging on the door handles
Sharks groping for jelly
Never believe what you see on telly
Turn off the radio
Not much rhymes with radio though
Ha, you didn't think I could do it!
Do you have a permit?
To judge on those who judged
Stop being in a grudge!
Just because I outwitted you!
Remember that this is true! You may read this and think:
"Well she is surely crazy, her brain's down the kitchen sink!"
Well maybe this is true, but
I'm just very bored, this poem is now through!
In real life you discover things in the oddest places
Perhaps you are sitting at a bar sipping a beer
And you share a look with someone
A sudden thought is stirred
You're life clicks, the constant problems you've been calculating
Finally equate
And the world for a moment
Makes complete sense

It's the strangest feeling
Like a surge or a breath
God has taken his lips to yours and given you something to believe in

Tomorrow looks brighter on days like this
And the world makes sense
When you're feeling good
Wendy Darling Mar 31
And they dreamed about a girl
Who was dancing out in space,
With the stars as companions
And the moon as a friend

And the stars said to her
"you are such a pretty girl"
And the moon whispered to her
"you are such a strange girl"

And they danced all night long,
And they laughed till dawn,
And when the time finally came
The girl didn't want to go home

She said to them, with a silent voice
"you're my only friends, please don't let me go"
And the moon said to her with a smile on her face
"don't be afraid, we are always going to stay"

And so the girl returns to her reality world,
Where she wasn't part of all that noise.
But she kept a little secret that always made her smile,
She knew that her heart belongs way up in the sky.

The Japanese have a saying,
we show one face to the world,
one face to our family and closest of friends,
and one face,
to no one but ourselves.

I am lying to you.
I am not who I say I am.
While I am not completely insane,
and I am not a criminal,
I am not as perfect as you see me.

Maybe we're all,
a little insane,
and a little criminal.

But none the less,
we're all normal.
FRITZ Mar 21
the shakes own my body they make it harder to type so i peck at my keyboard like a retarded animal and i keep smashing the power button every time i hit the backspace and i'm afraid the whole godforsaken thing will turn off. macs arent bad though. i might be okay.

wow this whole fucking thing just went to shit? can i even say that? i'll be fucking honest with you (aside from the avant-garde scene and the nihilistic WOKE poetry ensemble) i really don't know if i can say that or not? i mean when was PC invented? like 2008? fuck you. that was ten years ago gimme a break.

jesus man the shakes are horrible tonight. they're so bad im really just relying on autocorrect to do everything for me but sometimes it misses and so do i. i could use diction on the mac but then they would have my voice and once apple took o ver the world id just become one of their drones or something.

i know why too. maybe the "substances" im constantly ingesting. (oooh "substances" s cary word ayh right. you're an idiot.)

or maybe its the lack of creativity and originality in everything i see and hear and do? maybe not.

(taking a break to ____________).

all the bugs and trees are talking to me and you know what in not eve n gonna bother with typing at this point so if are still here then good for you,

.... six, no wait, make that, 12 bottles of wine. and some whiskey. and some champagne. and a jug of sangria. and...

it's XX:05 as I write this. so if you're awake and reading this then either you're a night-owl or you live somewhere thats not here or there.

i m really truing to see; the shakes off and I think in doing pretty well so i have to just keep it up. right?

im going to shrink down and sleep with my succulent. tomorrow will be where hell is waiting.

motherfuckers come in early. 2-3 AM. i always wake up right about then.+
thank you once again, Fritz.
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