Steve Page May 15

Grandma's girlish giggle
A wink from grinning grandpa
And a burst of farts from the sleeping dog -
These raise a much needed smile
To brighten the close of my bone weary day.

Warm families make life better

In the misty hours of my consciousness,
I come to you with weary eyes and a plea:
“Come back to me, come back to me,”
I cry out, but my attempts are futile
for my suffering has pained me greatly
and though I cry, the tears are dry.
And though I call, my voice is small.
And though I love, you hate.
And there can be nothing
to stop the black coal spreading within your soul.

written 5/12/17

latticed windows
dutch homes
Notre Dame splendor
weary eyes
soft edged sweater
warm recording playing
swooping palm
candle fumes cream

I want to be on yellow
brown edged paper.

PSR Mar 28

World Weary And Walking Dead
I Have Outstayed My Welcome
It's Time For Bed

Saint Titus Apr 14

Honestly, I've never felt alone
My thoughts keep hitting a depressing tone
Light in life, keep it light
Fear the dark, keep it right
People make me lose my shit
I've long since had my finger on it
There's something to be said about solitude
Mental gymnist mindset feud

I've been fed too much too long
Now its all I can taste
Fall in line or fall apart
The choice; voicless restless ill never make
Structurally sound, yeah maybe so
The footing never lets me down
But walls I cannot abide
Living life or letting die

Can't have it both ways
What a damn shame
So ungrateful
Sitting bankrupt, linen table
I won the world and still feel
Like someone somewhere owes me something
Take the second
Grasp it
Something you would have sooner wasted
Self reflect
Can you taste it?

It might not be up to you
But either way you get to choose

Its like three in the morning

A cornflower
lavish these
hearts of
gold in
fields will
enchant harvest
with sunshine
in a
row and
foothills dash
plains with
nervy glares
where whitewater
raft in
these rapids
that hallow
river bridge.

Erin Mar 19

Agony of memories shackled in soul
Loss of control

Cult raised isolation bred within youth
Eureka of truth

Abandoned by love own motherhood start
Burden of heart

Maternal disease and death's lengthy fight
Daytime to night

Caring in vain is like tightening rope
Grasping for hope

Sweet child now mortal illness attacked
Mind being racked

No support acquaintance or true friend
Alone till end

Questioning Deity in trial with doubt
Childish I pout

Weakness in battle spirit slowly died
Strength not inside

Broken wondering why His small pawn
Can't carry on

If only there were words
           to the unspoken verses
           when silence is the only sound

           More than only
           near paralyzing torn,
           weary of searching endlessly
           for what cannot be found
           silence whispering poignantly
           drowning out the midnight rain,
           There is not sorrow
           in search of the lost
           unstrummed guitar chords
           Unwritten psalms
           forever left unsung;
           without amity,
           woe betides an unfinished,
           abandoned heart's song

           Only a heart lonely knows,
           there is no cacophomous darkness
           whispering of screaming silence
           by night and by day:
           "all things must steal away"  
           not to be thought of wanderings end
           as a  velvety-crimson rosebud
           shamelessly withers brown

           Swirling eddies stir
           a black swan of loneliness
           swimming within the flood
           of raven river waters'
           silently eclipsing
           its pitch black flow

           Muted pleas silent as pity
           blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
           speaking in beckoning salutations
           singing in sweetly beseeching tongues

           Like the hush of a pensive soul,
           once touched by another, moved
           like a bedrock marrowed mountain
           left stifled, stranded and wondering,
           feeling an awkward silence
           when the leaves come falling down

           There are no misbegotten promises
           cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
           there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...

Notes (optional) :

"When Silence is the Only Sound"
This title turns out being a fitting ending....
words in the wind ― blown away ― 3/15/2017
Emily Jane Feb 11

Breathing in the hot drowsy wind
that then sits, stagnant, in the lungs
of the weary figure (mine own)
and exhaling long, the lazy summer air
as she waited (I sat for hours you know)
for the afternoon to decay
even though time itself seemed to be drugged
slumbering in the African heat.

My insides burn, turn and broil. I feel as if I could burst. I want to do everything. And yet nothing excites me. Im worn from a long day but try as I might sleep doesn't come. Worries of the world stir through my head. I ache, I hurt, I yearn to sleep yet she still doesnt come.
Hunger twists my stomach yet no food fits my mood or apatite. Colors are bright yet bring me no delight or interest. The night wears on and yet I am still not gone. Sleep is the cool water on a burn, the mute on a loud static. The pause, the peace. Sleep is the calm in a life of chaos. Why does she now evade me.
A yawn escapes my lips. Please come. End the pain and suffering of the day. Take it away so in the new day I can wake calm and prepared ( and a little grouchy). I've lost all ability to think and yet I still can't sleep. Another yawn, one step close to the rest, the goodbye to the colors and hello to the hollow darkness where thought carries its own weight and no longer weighs down my head.

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