Above us:
Wrong time,
wrong place.

For now, it’s safer
keeping our secrets.
Tension builds,
and in just a bit
it will all pour out.

Don’t look into my eyes
if you don’t want to share your story.
With every gaze, the gap is closing.

Something unvoiced is flowing.
The pendulum sways.
Is there life left?
Is it still a warm place,
or an illusory glow?

If you don’t want to let someone
into your territory,
please turn your head,
turn your eyes.

Seeing right through, you betray
who you were
and who you became.

The nemesis, genesis – as I’m naming the voices that echo
within me, the moment I drew my first breath. They love
to play presentence, they speak tainted truths in the limits
of my psyche; giving me their word before my sentencing.

They believe in foretelling my fate in my mind’s prison –
casting judgment with every utterance; can I compete
with these thoughts, will I finish their sentences?

Often, I find myself so imprisoned in my own mind –
yet the irony lies in the fact that the door stands open,
as we permit our thoughts to dominate with their own
rule, and goals of leaving us so, so broken.

My mind is a place I roam around with caution!

I am a Coliseum—
Broken, but still standing,
A relic of past glory,
Hinting at a time when I stood tall, whole, and victorious.
When the battles fought within me were always won by the hero.

But slowly, the battles grew harder.
The hero began to falter,
Until she lost everyone.
Until her determination shattered like glass,
Almost as sharp as the razor blade against my walls.
Until crimson blood leaked from her chest,
Staining my jeans as it spilled from our bodies in unison.

She died, and I was left in a gray, hollow way of living.
Trying to make sacrifices of my own flesh
To revive the fearless woman she once was.
But I failed—again and again—
Fighting my own battles,
Facing my own shadowed lions,
Until I, too, was dead.

I've decided to stay that way.
Tablets for writing may record it,
And tablets for pain may propel it.
I drink some water to make it easier to swallow

Attributes of the walking stick
hung around like charity shop clothing -
bagged and ready to go

It was a switch that had truely altered time again
(\ - this is not poetry it is gospel.)and a shower which managed to scrub off a few inches of the ***** dirt

a sectre of a cultural conversation
that stands for nothing
whether i'm ***** again ot not.

The chip shop gave me free water, and i just considered myself lucky at the time
but its starting to make me more suspicious now

and not in the way that i've seen my whole teenage and further years as a massive xenephobia crime made to seem more convincing through dehydration

Well, I guess we need
To send out the hounds.
For the crafty sheepdogs
To go pick out the bad actors
Hiding among the crowds.
Look over your shoulder,
There's that chill again,
The heat is rising
And you can feel something creeping.
Let it take you on,
Lest it take you over.
We've been
Building momentum,
Silently growing
Like a beautiful lotus
Or festering fungus.
It's just a matter of perspective,
It's only a matter of time.
Give in, or give up.
Fly if you will,
Fight if you think you must,
But listen to your neighbors.
Are you honest?
Are you trusting?
Are you nurturing?
Don't worry, don't stress out;
We're gonna figure each angle,
Lay out all the motives.
It's all there
On the internet,
And freely given!
You had a choice, you made a choice-
You dressed up the bed, now rest in it.

My mother used to say.
You catch more flies with honey.
Than you do with vinegar.

She never taught me.
That the same principal.
Would apply to men.

Like how they craved affection.
Just as much as they craved sugar.

That their jaws would gnaw.
As they took bites out of my skin.

Causing me to bleed out.
Till I've been drained.
Of everything I ever was.
Or will be.

That this world.
Has taught me.
My pleases and thank yous.

That the sour words.
Have no place in a women's.
Vocabulary.

That sentences like *******.
I don't give a crap.
Get the hell away from me.  

Offends a man's ear.
Just as much as the word no.
No ******* way.

So the next time they order honey.
Give them vinegar instead.

The sky is a cloudless crystal blue
with a breeze to chap your lips
I’m grateful for it, it’s heaven-sent
the dawn was a celestially stamped, angry red
sailors take warning

It’s going to get feisty cold,
I’m told
about the time we go back to school.
A polar-bear vortex with all its features
will spread its icy paws

What jumps out at me first
is how it could be worse.
if unapologetic nature
pounced sans disclaimers
with a cold worth semi-Shakespearean verse

What follows, star-crossed
is a week storm-tossed
a winter holocaust
with heaven-kissed frost
that only madness would call a judgement

We’re steered from harm
by precision alarms
stay warm
sweet friends
wrap up, stay in
.
.
Songs for this:
Come In from the Cold by Marc Broussard
World's A Changing by The Bingtones

Words,
How powerful and distinguished they can be,
But, when in the hands of the enemy,
Become slimy, coarse, static and sloppy.
The old saying goes:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
I believe that’s not the truth,
And that words can leave bruises,
Break hearts, and leave scars,
Corrode and erode,
Till there’s nothing but calamity.

How quick one is to insult another,
With not a thought on the consequences of speech.
Is it purely ignorance?
Or a lack of decency?
Morality’s gone out the window,
Only hatred remains,
Or at least that’s all it seems,
Few eyes in the overwhelming hurricane.
What happened to kindness?
What happened to peace on earth?
It seems to me, everywhere you look,
A new conflict has emerged.

Language can be so beautiful,
When presented to people who are good.
Not the ones who say the same crude words,
Over and over,
I won’t spell them out,
For they’re repulsive.
Have they little shame?
Or perhaps they don’t care?
Who they cut with their words,
As they fly through the air.
It’s sad when to insult seems standard,
And being kind is an extraordinary phenomenon.
It makes me wonder,
What planet am I living on?

My favorite,
Which means I hate it,
Is when people say a certain two words.
“**** yourself…”
How could they be so cruel!?
To wish the end of someone else’s life!
They say it so thoughtlessly,
Without a care in their ignorant, daft minds!
But they’re joking so that makes it okay!?
I think they forget that a joke is supposed to be funny!
What’s funny about wishing for somebody to die?
What sociopathic, narcissistic person,
Thinks that’s funny?
What if who they said it to was suffering?
What if what they said,
Confirmed every sickening, tragic thought,
In their head?
What if that following night,
They took the *****’s advice,
And didn’t show up at school the next day?
Would they feel ashamed?
Or would they even cry?
At the fact that their words,
Caused someone to die?

I’m not saying I’m perfect,
Farthest from it.
But I am careful to choose my words,
Before they leave my head.
Let me tell you a few truths.
Not every opinion you have needs to be shared.
Not every thought you have needs to be said.
Not every observation about someone else needs to be uttered.
Not every harsh comment needs to be spoken.
Some things are best left unsaid.
Sometimes it’s best to just stay silent.
Sometimes it’s best to remain quiet.
Because your words are weapons,
Your words are swords.
Wield them wisely,
Or are you unworthy?
To use this language,
So complex and enigmatic.

Words,
Can mean the difference between life and death,
Joy and chaos,
Love and hate,
Words carry a lot of weight.
Think about what you say,
Before those thoughts escape your brain,
Please,
The last thing we need,
Is more hate in this life.