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Steve Page Aug 2021
Layer by layer
the wailing wall
still weeps
leaks life
still happy
to receive
prayers to gods
who no longer reside
no longer invest
in their attempt
to subdue
a fierce people.
                  And the river offers up her long laughter below.
Prompted by a rock wall at Colden Clough, Lumb Bank, nr Heptonstall, West Yorkshire,  UK, former residence of Ted Hughes.
writerReader Feb 2015
i cried when you died
i died when you wept and wailed
E McNamara Jun 2018
Your words reek with lies
You've hurt me too many times
I'll never trust a word out your mouth
You saw me cry with my heart spilled out
Yet you did it again
After saying "Never again..."
Our mother can't see through your poison
My tolerance has been growing thin
"Stop doing this!" I scream and wail
Don't you dare spit another tale.
My soul aches with despair hidden
Anything but happiness feels forbidden
lying can do so much damage
were you "sorry" you lied or "sorry" you got caught?
E McNamara Apr 2018
I scream at her.
I tell her she's ugly
And too loyal,
That she doesn't work hard enough.
She is not enough.
She is nothing.
I wail at her
That she is too open,
Too soft,
Too forgiving.
That everything she gets
She deserves.
I scream awful tears and hit her.
She shatters-
I stare at my bloodied hands and broken mirror.
I am nothing.
Part 2 will be about gaining confidence. :)
Austin McCoy Aug 2017
It's going to be a jolly grand day
Nothing will get in the way
This life is boring
Time to go snoring
I'm done with 'noRmALitY'
And ready for a fatality
I buy a lot
No food for thought
I buy what I can find
Who cares if it's a crime?
I'm looking for airtime
This is out of hand...
As I take more and more sand


OH, iT hAs HIt Me
I'M FEEling PReTTY fuNkY
I Want TO PrANce
i SEe a lEDGE
i'm ON tHe EDgE
REaDy For THE cOuNTdowN

THreE, TwO...

Madness consumes
Jade May 2015
You once had me in the palm of your hand,
But you squeezed too hard,
I could not breathe,
I could not shout,
And now -

I cry and scream,
Kick and flail,
Silent anguish turn into wails,
Oh how our love so frail,
Relatives of dead convicts
with debauched faces
and curly headed sailors
sing morose melodies
to the wail of saxophones
screaming strings
clashing cymbals
and the rattle of kettle drums.

— The End —