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Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


~
Ever had that point in your life where
you wished you could just press
a button and restart your whole
life?

Never losing any of the knowledge
that you have now?
It seems like I'm having more and
more of those days...

I try my best to walk on the path
of light, but I can't help but turn
and feel the shadows crawling
behind me

How they yearn to sharpen their
blades with their poisoned whispers
and seek my neck to slit my throat
The memories of my 'childhood'
coming back to bite and drag me
down to my death
I only wish to build for my future,
to move on,
begin anew,
to rise about the turmoil that burns
in me

For the man I hate most in this world...
Even now, I'm not sure that I fully
understand the past
I have so many questions, still
But I guess I will never truly understand
it, not as I am now anyway...
But it's better to understand than me
seeking to solve it

I can't change my past
I can't delete my mistakes
I'm still at war, fighting off my insecurities
my self-loathing
my depression
my anxieties
my shame
my anger

As scared as I am, my hand
is on the handle that leads
to my Hall of Hope
Small, it may be, but hope
is something that is hard to ****
once it has taken root

The key, stability, is there beyond
my gaze
My future is the only thing I have
There's nothing left for me in the past,
nothing but pain and a black-hole
of emotion
So I humbly ask you...

Help me to overcome and experience
my best life that hides behind my fears
I won't let anyone jeopardise what could
be for me, for the sake of jealousy or even
impulse

I can't be a tree that never bears fruit...
For risks are apart of life
So I will follow you,
with my heart praying for salvation
From the smoke from the past,
you present me my mirror
even if it's something I do not wish
to see

My past, I will make peace with
but I will create my bright future
~


Picking at an emotional wound...
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


-
The quill...
My weapon of choice,
my inner seed that gives
life to my inner fire,
all of my turmoils
is also, at times,
the root of my
misery.
-


Being a writer is both a blessing and a curse...
It's been there for me but also, it's tied to my emotional and mental pain,
so it is connected to my misery, my anxieties, my depression, my struggles with self-love, fighting my self-doubt, self-hatred and my fears...
At times, I don't even feel worthy of such a gift.
I only want to express myself - all of my loves, all of my pain.
No matter how raw it may seem.
I'm feeling alot better now, I just needed time to pick myself up.
I just did not have the energy to talk to anyone
Thank you so so much, everyone for being so patient and understanding!
Much love and hugs!
Lyn ***
Mark Sep 2018
At the edge of the wood
And draw maps of what we believe
Our anatomies will look like
Before and after the war
Marisol Quiroz Aug 2018
she was war,
a collection of cuts and old scars,
armored in the pain of her past,
bones of ash and thorn.
blood like spilled scarlet wine
splashed across the bathroom floor,
she cried alone—
unseen,
unknown.
but for all the tears, she rose to her feet
and sat upon her barbwire throne
for these bones still ache,
this body still bleeds,
these lungs still breathe,
and this heart still beats,
still beats,
still beats.

— my heart is not a home for cowards
Jabin Jul 2018
Cast it aside I…
Can the world be so…
Is anything actually…
Where does it go?

Promises they kept
Lifted from the well.
Hurt me just a little longer…
And I will never tell.

Basically, the chains they…
Craftiness all ensnared…
Turned round to face the…
Was it ever there?

Sever my motives
What does it matter?
Emptiness concepts…
Meaning’s in tatters.

Legs wrapped tight on…
Hardly notice the…
Singes the backside…
Looks so good, huh?

                         Push me to action.
                         Call me a fake.
                         Hurt me with venom.
                         Lies from the snake.

Nobody knows that…
So much of knowing it…
Is there a knowing such…
Yet, how we commit.

The pain sets it free now.
The blisters remind us.
Sifts through unknowing…
Blood, guts, and ****.

Will it ever be, I…
Where is the voice of…
Searching for aching…

And finding love.
Stella Matutina Jul 2018
Often times I don’t know how I am.
That one question holds so many possibilities,
And I can’t narrow them down to one.

How are you?
I’m not sure to be honest.

There are days I feel a raging inferno,
Where fire burns my insides,
making me curse the world that’s brought me to this point.

But other times, it’s a tidal wave of sorrow.
In those times I can’t even muster the energy to swim.
I’d rather let the world drown me than care about it for another second.

The worst times though are the happy ones.
They usually follow the wave and flame.
It’s like my emotions decided that they’ve had enough of one extreme,
And that it’s time to swing to the next.

I know these happy feelings won’t last-
As soon as that song ends,
As soon as I return to reality,
I will return to nothing.
Because I know this happiness is not a reflection of how I truly feel,
But a valiant effort to hide the storms inside of me.

So when people ask me,
How are you?
I say I’m fine.
I’ve gotten quite good at hiding anything,
Everything.

I am scared to acknowledge the natural disaster that is my soul,
For I fear that one day it will be my end.
Do not waste your life away
Hanging around the wrong crowd
For they have nowhere to go
They are obnoxious and loud
The more that you ally yourself with them
Nothing but trouble and turmoil will appear
You will often find yourself in a trance
Am I making myself abundantly clear?
K Balachandran Jun 2018
turmoil reigns the sky,
monsoon clouds do poetry;
Juggle metaphors!
Just another lonely bright Dazzled night in the diamond city of the land of gold.
The seasons change feels like a lamentation the autumn wind has never been so cold.

Sigh

Thought these metro lights blinding but I still see your name next to the moon in the stars.
The city's fluxed and curved silhouette,
Spectacular. happy to look, haven't seen you on these streets without occasion like a vintage car.

Sigh

I wonder, Were we moving too fast was it the pressure?
our chemistry had me at my triple point; fluid at times, solid for a minute but heated when we're livid. Aroma like therapy that's why I'm with Mary more, now that you're not near me.

Inhale

Used to be nothing but a product of jozi. a chubby hot boy plus everybody knows me. Well only my role, never my name Ilie man all ways had dat more fiha that's  what I was told. Not innocent but I have a bright soul.

Sigh

It was easier when I was apathetic, I could fake smile, greet enemies like "sho, Fede". the me of yesteryear would snark at my weakness now, but my sight has changed lately.

Inhale

Realize the higher I go the more balance I need, yes, these changes involve you but they are all on me.
A spoken word ment for a performance that never happened due to changes which is ironic. did most of it riding through Sandton . Includes a few South African/Rastafarian slang words such as
Jozi-short name for Johannesburg, South Africa
Ilie man- a man who is sacred/blessed/sanctified
Fiha- good marijuana
Sho, Fede- greetings (my)guy
Hot boy- a young illicit substances distributer

The Train of thought has a direction and many stops, when you're melancholy, but you Learn something at every stop along the line.
Each stanza has a sporadic rhyme scheme to show the sporadic nature of thought
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