The word peace Conjures up images of hippies In tie dye shirts And flowers in their hair But Personal peace Now there is something there Bubbles floating In the steaming bath tub That makes me feel like A rose petal In a hibiscus tea Melting me into A softer side of me As I dose to sleep
Mornings rise And I breath in Breath out Mantra moments Spent with an app That filters into my body And let’s go of the crap Of noises and neighbors Of people who blather On and on This stream A river Of unconscious anger Yet it has become a leaf In my tree I breath in I breath out Letting my branches stretch Farther As I repeat the mantra I embrace all of the good in me I embrace love, life and harmony
My heart is beating rhythmically In resonance to the beat of 'End Of Time’. My soul is breathing in tranquility, In response to the gleaming full moon. My body is surviving poetically In reply to the poetries I write.
‘End Of Time’ is my most favourite song which is By Alan Walk
I loved you so long that I turned into something I could not recognize. By the time the ordeal was over I was no longer a girl but the shell of a shivering shipwreck left to rot among the rocks. My senses had all been cast astray in the disaster, and, dressed in white waves, I had crawled my way back to shore. I still do not know how I made it out of that wreckage. I only remember the voice from the depths assuring me I would survive, and I did. and I am.
I made it from the words I found on buses, newspapers, blowing in the afternoon wind and in daydreams. And from the words you never told me.. Like "I won't give up on you" Or "I'm staying". I assembled them along with the leftover words from my suicide notes.
Just for you. Just like how our lost brothers used to make them. Or would've. I want to see these words living on your lips. Or falling down your cheek. Or Running Along Your Wrists OR WRAPPED AROUND YOUR NECK Or even just reflected at the back of your eye.
In the hope that you'll receive a call at 3am on a Sunday morning about these words.
Then hear them again on the evening news. About how they were found ISOLATED, HANGING in the dark, AND SPILLING ACROSS THE ROOM. Haunting it for centuries to come. Let them talk about how it was the words. Instead of one of us.
A smile tugs at my lips Yet a tear falls from my eye I cannot seem to find happiness Without endlessly asking why I had to suffer all I did And why I suffer still Have I lost the girl I used to be Has all the pain broken my will And changed me into someone else Someone who’s not quite there Who’s always a word away from darkness Who can taste sadness in the air And I stare into a mirror And wonder what it is I’ve lost Has the price of all this been to high Can I still afford the cost Is there enough strength left inside of me To fight this hard each day Or is this all just futility My final useless attempt to stay But I decided I had come to my end And I felt it in my soul And now that I have to live with that decision I don’t believe I ever will be whole So I take one step after another And I clasp my hands into fists I collect together all my remaining pieces To have the courage to just exist
if i make it through this winter then i can learn to live alone my tea grows cold while i hold it talking to your ghost hurt past the point of healing comfortably numb, but always bleeding i’d swallow my tongue to keep from speaking living with your ghost