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cleann98 May 2018
i was young...
      well, younger than now----
   it was when it first struck me
it struck me hard.
          it struck me like reality...
       but more like
         reality when reality comes
    in the face of your
             family
        all in chains...
     then, reality looks like dreams altogether;
            no not fantasy----
              not exactly a nightmare either
                         more like
                  ----ecstasy-----
      "you are a special weapon"
           "something of great potential"
        "and massive power"
              "but you only have one shot"
          mom always used to say.
                   i even once thought
                       she stashed some kind of
           deathray or sting ray or something
           in my arm----
    ----it won't be the first thing
                 she stuffed in me anyway...
              i was eight years old when she
                     finally continued the sentence.
           before total silence.
                  "make it count."
       "cause whether you hit"
         "or even if you miss..."
           "you would be broken"
            "shattered-----"
            "torn to pieces-----"
            "torn apart."
                                 "so please"
                               "don't"
                        "break"
                         ­   "yourself"
                                "shooting"
        ­                            "for"
                      "nothing.­"
                  she never taught me
                  how to use
                  the weapon
                  myself-----
       she just fragmented
           in tears before splintering
                  tearing to shards herself
         it took me til 15
               that i was afraid
                      to yet touch
     even stare
               even think
        nothing.
                  i never knew
           what i was capable of
                      i never knew how
              to control
       to even activate
                 all i knew was that
i was powerful
i don't know what of
but i have to save it
           keep it         live it      nurture it
       store it               amass it                  seep it
             savor it                understand it
    study it            feel it
             polish it                         train it                      
              let it breathe
   let it sing
               i could hear it sing
    i could feel it whisper-----
          and i was so afraid...
                    all i saw of my mother was
      that she was in pieces
             long before i knew her.
                 shambles
                 and
                 shackles
         and i don't want to be that when i fire----
it wasn't supposed to strike me
      but it did, and it struck me hard
   reality
           i was 16 when i
       first made the discovery
                 ----love-----
          all at once
                and much, much too completely----       all off guard.
         it was like
                    you suddenly turned
                a blinding light
      on something that had always been
                 half a shadow
        that's how it struck me...
            that's how it shattered me...
    it's like a full flashback
           of my mother saying
      'i told you so'
                  except she never did.
               and it struck me.
      like i hit the right target at the wrong time
      or the opposite of it
          but truth is
             i just hit
      a poltergeist
           way too soon
                 and it wasn't like
        it was the wind that was hit----
    that's how it struck me,
              love
          and that's how it tore me apart.
                 ----fragmented----
and it did not take me long
to realise what glass cannons we were...
          all my life
      i never tried to
         activate my strength
and when i did
              it imploded.
                               it was a long time...
and i was blinded----
         it wasn't the hit
             nor was it the miss
that tore me apart
                        it was love that broke me
     because shattered pieces
                    are not
                all that bad
                            splinters...
                   shards...
                       fragments...
                                    blades...
      ­       one shot was all it took
        to break my heart
                    and so suddenly...
                    every part of me...
                              was a weapon
                         everyone who held me
                                 hurt
                                 bled
                              cried
                        ­    pained
                        burned
                    wai­led
               enraged
      agonized
                   they turned to anger
          then turned to hate
                            they turned to each other
                                 pretty soon turning to waste
          it was then that it struck me
               what a glass cannon is----
and it was until now that i was eluded...
                        for that long a time
       i thought shards were
       all love could offer...
       fragments were
       all romance could be
                     i met
            your father
            your father
            your father
            your father
    and your father
    all through different shards
                      until i saw what i had
                 all in shambles
                 and
                 all in shackles
     just like my mother
             that's when it struck me
        ---ecstasy---
                       cause looking into your eyes
              my children
                     i love you
         as a whole
                  not like with your fathers
            or like with the guys before them
        or like the guys before the other guys
                         i wanted more than ever
                    to love you
                more than
                      a few shards
                  all tainted
              with blood
          or with anger
                  or with both----
                  that's when it hit me
           and it hit me with so much pain...
           what my mother really should have said.
being a glass cannon
     doesn't mean being
          a weapon to hurt others-----
                    it means one day,
              no one knows when,
       but it will surely come
          like a thief in the night...
                 love
  and you will give your all
  even if it shatters you to pieces
               and even if you are already in pieces
       because you know love
       can make you again whole.
Inspired by one of the most famous lines spoken by the protagonist Blanche in the play A Streetcar Named Desire---- the line shown in bold and italics----
Title by Marianne
the United Nations
ever and again call to raise billions
to help countries devastated by war
or other mostly man-made catastrophes

I suggest we operate by the causality principle:

the countries who sell all those arms
    and military support to the warring parties
    or leave the natives no land to grow their own food
simply use the money gained from their sales and appropriations
to help the refugees they created
    build up all the cities their weapons destroyed
    provide a living for the farmers whose lands
         have been sold to agrobusinesses
    pay for the education of all the children
         unable to have schooling
    reconstruct the societies their greedy actions destroyed

sounds like a fair proposal

doesn‘t it??
Cory Williams Mar 2018
The battlefield is a pasture, a desert, an Escher-esque catacomb of cosmic proportion...
It is a scribble, a stick body
With a hollow circle head...
It is a block of Earth, creating life with the dead.

Ink is the blood running; scattering non-uniformly
Across symmetrical horizons
And vertical skewed faces,
Asking for the emotion you're feeling.

A loaded glue gun fires
Building muscle and cartilage
Sealing wooden bones and providing the foundation
Of an artist born...
Hair of yarn
Marbled tooth and nail
Skin of clay.

I am a weapon...
A heart of paper folds and a mind untold
Written in BOLD.
A work about the creation inside all of us artists.
Jennifer DeLong Mar 2018
My eyes are my weapon
They can bring you up
or tear you down
they speak there own
language if you pay
attention
there exciting
can be enlightening
These eyes can dance
follow your moves
but do me wrong
they'll bring you down
I hope you never find out

© Jennifer Delong 3/2018
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2018
Chill lingers in the Autumn air
Sorrow frosts the bare ground
What craziness did you expect?
Me to turn back around?

Time has passed on, or so it seems
There is always somebody new
The pleading in your voice destroys
I can't make it up to you.

Scribbled words won't make this right
As always, snow will bite and fall
Stormy weather still prevails
My back is pushed against the wall.

Every night I lie awake
An ocean crashing inside
Deep with scars I've hidden
And the endless tears I've cried.

You don't see how I'VE been hurt
I'm an outraged, broken mess
And our problems all cannot be fixed
By the smoothness of your caress.

You're better off without me here
Listen to my words, you know you should
In the end I'll cause more pain
Than any weapon ever could.
Very old one I wrote after my ex tried to get back with me when I was like 16. I like the metaphor used. Do you have any feedback on the topic?
Natassia Serviss Dec 2017
Cradled minds in ruptured beds.
My twisted dreams run through my head.
Rear-end crashes with dark lit chases.
It's been so long since they showed my races.
Pavlov concepts in my daily words.
I try to conceal my dreams because they could build swords.
You’d cut me down if I spoke the wrong things,
It'd be my fault because I gave away my wings.
I want to be grounded here next to you.
I lived for my mother and father and sometimes I lived through.
I lived for the sunlight rising in windows.
Sadness crept into every smile in my photos.
Swept in from the wind you came riding.
Still despairing I greeted you with what I knew about flying.
Hoping you stay with me through the days.
Now I live for the lovely words you might say.
On top of my heart will rest this book of fears,
The pages are tattered and ancient.
Full of such terrors that escape me only in the darkness of your bed,
These horrors that I thought would only leave me when I was dead.
I know I don't live for you.
I know I love you.
This nightmare became an adventure the second I saw the sun.
Resting was in the daytime to save me from the darkness that had always won.
Steel made from my chest.
Iron into only the best.
I hope you take these weapons I forged without you.
This ammunition for the machine that rippled through my senses.
The blades that butterfly my heart with every syllable I accidentally utter,
Such wings that will never flutter.
I hope all these mines I plant are ones you can see.
I hope you never use these weapons on me.
sometimes i talk too long about nothing at all that means nothing but might mean something to someone else and I've never learned when to not incriminate myself. I don't live for you, yet.
Meadow Dec 2017
The source of my pain
Is now what once freed me from it
Now I am left defenseless
As my opponent uses my weapon
To slowly, and effectively, tear me apart
Zero Nine Nov 2017
Set the mood
Redline
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Just relax.

I'm  waving the smoke away
Both hands  extensions of
the atrium  that primes the pump
I'm  beating as bleating
Green veil  is parted re  -  vealed
Reveals  the one I'm afraid of  -  the
old me

I'm  counting days defeated
Dead days  used my blood took
the look that I sculpted and weaponized  - it
as something other

Set the mood
Lazerhawk
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Relax. Relax.

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

How am I  a slave?

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

I  ride the ghost train
I  deify  the old ghosts  -  I
I  never meant to board forever  -  I
Am shadow. Am product. The Ubik.
I  deify  the past as answer  -

nothing left to say
nothing left to say

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Nine is the number. 3 x 3. The grid and the line's end.
Madam X Nov 2017
Someone is watching. This I know to be true.
They sit there and watch every thing that I do.
The music I play, the books that I read,
the shows that I watch when I turn on TV. The opinions that formulate inside of their head,
is something I fear and something I dread. There isn't just one. They have a whole crew.
Millions and millions, not one or two. People are everywhere and if they are not, there's a mouse or an insect deep in its thoughts.
Staring and watching with its tiny black eyes.
Take one more step and they'll run and they'll hide.
People will watch you and be really mean. They think it's okay bc their thoughts can't be seen.
But really inside, that's the core of all evil. It's starts out small and it grows till its lethal.
Humans will smile and say their kind thoughts,
but walk away for a second and hear their real talk.
Please listen closely, it'll come in disguise. It's hard to dissect all of these lies.
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