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Breethyr Jul 29
Limbs have faltered amidst a fast-paced act,
Liquid fills you up.
Antagonized in desperation,
Reach out for the gun.
This moment of ecstatic flavour
Brought misery.
The shivers, the strangest twists.
Defiler is you.

Night is filled with red light from the sun
And white-red mixture.
Calls upon you the servant of god,
With vicious intentions.
Violate your existence,
They forced the life out of you.
In the end it all comes in place,
The void is within.

Who expected nothing less of you,
Whose eyes filled with tears,
They would follow you and die,
They'd always protect you.
Would you follow their lead into light,
Or succumb to this weakness?
The fear of hurting them pains your mind.
Defiled defiler.

May never escape this nightmare unscathed,
May never reside in this homeland.
The pain subsides yet the emptiness grows,
The one that was you is no longer.
They would have never understood,
You'd never agree for a half-life.
Trapped in a cage by events of the night,
Your will still roams free on the inside.
Bhill Jun 24
The Vow

my brain will not be silent
my heart won’t skip a beat
the world is way to violent
the sun has lost its heat
what is going to take place
after it all is said and done
we need to succeed and embrace
and know that humans have won
we all retain the power
to stop this mayhem now
it will take a worldly shower
it will take mankind's vow....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 172
Make that Vow...
Paul McMahon Jun 20
I love to go walking, at least once a day
And see what I stumble across on my way
I can cover hills and valleys, forests and fields
To unearth what treasure the next stroll yields

Yesterday my amble took me a brand new way
Through an old wood with a black stream I did stray
I came across a boy with a face grimaced in concentration
A child in this ****** place, aroused my determination.

I said ‘Hey boy why are you so far from home?’
‘Please good sir you must leave me alone’
Then I noticed how tightly he clenched his fist
And knew he must have a treasure to add to my list.

I picked up the boy and grabbed his wrist
I shook it vigorously to open that fist,
Then I attacked his fingers and commenced to pry
From the boy not a whimper, a whisper or sigh.

‘Child I demand you open and reveal what’s in your hand’
‘There’s nothing sir not even a grain of sand’
The sheer cheek of the runt was simply astounding
I would open that paw if it meant giving him a pounding.

That’s just what I did, the boy got a seeing to
I slapped him and kicked him threatened to boil him in stew,
Swung him over my head and dashed him to the floor
No matter what manner of violence the scamp took more.

Exhausted and demoralised I screamed at the brat
‘Show me what you have and let that be that’
‘Please, it’s noting sir as I’ve said before
You can kick me and hit me and throw me to the floor’

Then I remembered, in my belt a small knife
I decided to cut off that mitt and end this strife,
Off at the wrist, open the fingers to look in the hand
The boy wasn’t lying, not even a grain of sand.

After all that effort and a day with no pleasure
I refused to feel down at the lack of treasure,
Next time you’re near to my house you must call
And I’ll show you the hand nailed firmly to the wall.
When I was a boy, I heard music in my head
It danced like me, violent and free,
Oh it danced like me.

Now my ears ring and my mind finds no peace
Just an empty space for thoughts to race,
And hold me hostage if they please.

Now the only place I dance is on a tightrope of fears
Like flame in the breeze, violent and free
I dance to be free
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Secret Garden Apr 18
I think about you all the time.
When the sky is sad and the angels cry.
When theres a ring around the moon,
I often stop and think of you.
I feel a pull strong in my chest.
I feel your touch, I feel your breath.
I feel your hands around my neck..
I feel your fist upon my face,
Upon my head, I feel the pain.
I feel the beating of my heart,
A fearful, saddened work of art.
A peak into my memories
Bhill Apr 15
expressionless and with a stare that seemed alien
the driftwood form floated and tossed in the violent sea
not knowing where IT had been or where IT would finish
tossing and turning, relying on the forces of nature for guidance
direction towards land is more then IT could hope for
soon the chaos and turmoil of the sea stopped
was IT on sand or still drifting out there in the void
IT seemed to be motionless when a blurred image appeared
not being able to recognize what IT was
not understanding ITs newfound sensations
not realizing IT was using a sense of sight
was there more to this image that understanding would support
what is this occurrence
is this simple, is this another new unknown excitement
is this even genuine
soon, IT appeared to be lifting up, being held quite gently by something
or someone
IT was suddenly and abruptly raised up and all ITs new sensations ceased
what was this, what was ITs final feeling
IT had been found...!

Brian Hill - 2020 # 106
What is your interpretation of this piece?  Please let me know.
Erin C Ott Dec 2019
That my first love was the perfect blue eyed, blond haired cherub is the error of my socialization, proved by the stained yellow of my newly-dulled canines and how there’s ****** pestilence we know and deny that I‘ve come to love
All the rot
And the “Memento Moris”
Because they are all the stuff that I imagine makes the color of her grotesque foot, pressed plainly to my spine like to any ladybug she would’ve otherwise made Love to.
So you may understand that the most attractive thing in the world would be to see her undone.

I won’t say this isn’t perverse for Love.
I love her so much I can despise who she’s become, her skull, a tomb robbed of fresh thought, her gems scraped off like scabs to decorate a destitute grapevine, then plucked and fed to the Noble she owes her fair hair.

“Circumstance. There’s only circumstance to blame.” I once cried about it, my lips craving only to move in tandem again with hers. So parroting was the next best thing.
Until I crushed peaches to try and be rid of her, which is why my ***** tastes of them every time now.

I recall crow’s feet, pressed to my groin, apropos of all I didn’t escape.
So I say, “I adore you” to My Emetophobic Girlfriend to be safe, so Love can stay reserved for the fantasy,
Where “silver lining” is less often the sole, desperately perceived pretty glint offered by the carving knife, since buried in bleeding beef, the raw nerves chastened by death... or anything else so depressing.

My first love became a neutered pet,
Gutted of her Love for me by her best friend’s fishknife fingernails and steel-eyed judgement, instructed, “Be Better.”

She told me things she’d never told anyone,
Then told me, “Remember me as you wish.”
So I cling to the fleeting memory of her perfume, yet am haunted nonetheless by her last words.
Dedicated to anyone who‘s ever struggled to speak at therapy for fear of feeling like a lovelorn teenage, disbelieving that love (or what passes for it) can wound.
Ssoho Dec 2019
Breathing life into a killer
Breathing lies into the current
Judgment is a predisposition
Moral compasses have no grounds for rebuke
When bullets tarnish
Pulse through flesh
And make orphans

Nigdaw Oct 2019
Why do I have to fight,
Painfully make my point
Bruising flesh, drawing blood,
Cracking heads to prove I’m right.

Why do I have to lose;
My dignity, the ability to
Verbalise, the anger that I feel.

I impose my will; threatening
Shouting, my face a mask
Tribal headpiece, worn
For my battle dance.

Adrenalin pumps, muscles start
To fuel, from my thumping heart.
Red rage clouds my eyes,
Blocking out pain, fight or flight.

My opponent falls, injured, shocked,
By an anger so powerful
That my body is consumed,
With the impact of my exploding mood.
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