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aar505n Jul 2014
The same old, same old
A story retold
with different settings each time
but ultimately identical
each story indistinguishable
so I'm skeptical
when you say this time will be different
because each time it's the same crime
anger and bitterness entwined
making a swine of you
and I'm pass the point of wanting to rewind
this story does not have a linear start to finish
But rather a never never ending circle
a pattern stuck on repeat
recycling itself on to its circular life
the external of the circle may change but the internal is still the same infernal circle.
immortal in its own way.
yesterday's sad melody,
with new ornamentation
but same motif throughout.
Ergo,
the same sorrow that swallows me up so I may wallow in this hollow feeling,
feasting like a beast on the self pity
that's festering away in the ruins of my broken mind like an unnatural disaster.
and I don't want a plaster to fix it
cause as soon as I put it on it'd only be ripped off again.
Useless and pointless against the repetition of unending pain
the same old, same old
Part one of two. A little personal. Interrupt what you will.
Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
it's ok May 2014
simple enough
If I wanted to, I could
I could dissect every word
you ever said
Take off the fabric that surrounds--
I would never, I told you,

I want to taste your skin,
after it's been hung on the clothespin
in the sun too long
If you heard this, you'd take it the wrong way

you want to taste me
because that little kiss,
you knew what you were doing
and now your hands know every inch of me

so ******* now
Hannah Anderson May 2014
I wrote a poem for my biography to a special person about Adam, I thought you would like to read it.

Blue Heart

You were 18, so many years in front of you.
It felt like a dark eternity, you didn’t want to go.
I saw it in your sunken eyes.
The vacant stare and sad dark eyes.
I saw when you were sitting around the table prom night.
So much going around but you were too calm
too collected.
too inside your mind for us.
I knew that blank expression from experience
All too well.
You screamed for help
silent and loud
I reached for your hand
but you
f
e
  l
   l



You were poised and calm
Broken but full of love.
All I wanted to do was help you.
you were standing still when the world went on
and it did go on, it did, without you.

When you were standing there at the edge
I wondered about you, all in my head.
We were short lived, a friendship that was fast.
You came, changed me, then you left.
it came and went in a flash.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not cross with you.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


Your color was blue
Blue heart, blue veins
Blue is the color of our planet
from far far away
we wore it proud it was all for you,
a blue solemn silence.
and the world spun fast and
all the people hurried fast, real fast
and no one ever smiled.

You weren’t all there, in that head of yours.
dark and empty
you were sad but you lived like you would die
tomorrow
tomorrow came too soon and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Meeting you was bitter
you put me through stress, anxiety and heartache
you put me through shame and shock
All I wanted was you by my side,
and you there was not.

Meeting you was sweet
you gave me smiles and laughs,
good music and thoughts
you gave me a feeling of friendship and care.
All I wanted was you by my side,
but you were not there.

You were poised and calm,
you rubbed off on me.
I was hyped and excited
you called me “ADHD”


You drove an old red beater with water bottles everywhere,
with **** in the glove compartment.
but you didn’t care.
Your drove with sunglasses and the FM radio loud.
You drove in silence, thinking no doubt.


You loved the sun but you would hike for the shade
when we were together you took me away.
I didn’t think, I didn’t have nerves.
We talked about the world
We talked about life
You had a life you thought you didn’t deserve.

Whoever planted that seed
had some **** nerve
you wrote like me but I wrote for myself
you wrote for us when there’d be nothing else.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not mad.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


When you were gone
I read
and
I read
i wanted to know exactly when
you felt what you felt.
You called me your jav friend
you called me your angel

You are up there watching over me
I yelled and screamed
I couldn’t breathe.

I shut them out,
I cursed at you.
I hated you
I cried for you


I only see you in my head
Dreaming once and a while of your smile,
of your eyes
but they are never dark
they are never sad
they are never empty
The vacant stare is not there.
your hair is a giant mess
and I freeze that moment right there.


You said you were alone
you said it was a secret
you asked me about my darkest
and you told me all your secrets
I have never been in that much peace knowing I kept you there
It felt like moments when it was hours and you were gone too **** soon.
tomorrow came too fast and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Now I wear a band on my wrist
and pray for your peace
that is all I have left,
but you mean so much to me.
I hope you are happy,
I hope your journey has ended
and you found what you wanted
My heart was once broken
but soon if all this is true
it will be mended.
This is about my friend who committed suicide on 5/19/13 the anniversary just passed and I wrote this for english.
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Daylight 4U2C May 2014
I chose this path
No, no one else did just me
No one else did
So why do I want to blame it on them
I told myself I wouldn't cry
I told myself I shouldn't lie
I told myself these but, I do this anyway
I like to break the boundaries
Skipping stones across a forbidden lake
But I wouldn't listen to myself when I said stop
I grasped my memories; nothing else then I stormed out that door
I want you to believe it was your fault
I wanted you to hate yourself for it
To come to me before I left this door or....
at least to regret it all
But, I couldn't even be honest with myself until it was over.
I wanted so bad
To have some way of knowing you weren't just going to forget
forget about me
But I lied to myself we were never a "we"
It took me forever to realize
You didn't even care
much less remember me
So I take my memories, my blames, tears,and lies and will disappear before your very eyes.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?
No one WANTS to die. For someone to do it, there will be an opponent. A THREAT.    That's what this poem is about.
Daylight 4U2C Feb 2014
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
please comment
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.
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