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Tony Tweedy Jun 6
My heart remembers there is more than this.
It recalls there being something warm and infectious.
When the beat had purpose beyond mere survival.
A throbbing and pulsating that gave power to emotion.

My mind glimpses a past that held joyous moments.
It recalls there being sensation and a fire in my core.
When every dream and hope had shape and form.
A memory made and cherished immune to times' flow.

My body longs for the thrills it once knew when young.
It recalls the dexterity lost through its aches and pains.
When pleasures could be made through another's touch.
A yearning for something that ageing stole in the night.

My soul cries for the sake of heart, mind and body.
It recalls the strength of being someone made whole.
When joy, happiness and love were something real.
A time when life was all and ending was so far away.
Fragments I am become,
heart,
mind,
body,
soul...
Dismembered by life and time.
Getting old and feeling it
If time heals all wounds — I have petrified

turned to stone

can't decompose

As the night sky blooms
one by one
I watch the stars -
blossom

The earth is
jealous; I’m sinking in
I belong with
them
      the other hardened things

Dear Death, hand in
hand
you've walked me too long —
now so heavy
rotting pain
solidified

I'll watch
on this sandy dune. The
night lights sparkle
only for me; bloom in their heavenly
beauty

And as the sky is set alight - and our own star rises -
may it shine a
broken body
           Lifeless
                   if not from a warm
                            embrace

My hands
catch on the wind
drift
adding to a new dune
over yonder.
I'll smile, and the earth welcomes me - Home.
I am so tired
it seeps out my eyes
turns my bones to turmoil and grief
weariness wears me like a suit
adorns my movement like chains
dragging my thoughts out by the hours
days weeks
there is no laughter here in the silent room
of my sleepless night
there is only the ghostly glow of the television
its utterance soft-spoken lie
"sleep my friend" it taunts me
"dream as a child would
carefree and filled with smiles"
but my restless eyes wander the cracks
in the ceiling
my weary thoughts grind over the same
same same same things over and over
I am so tired
why can I not sleep
Tony Tweedy Dec 2021
Dark of night surrounds me, pillow below my head.
How long the many hours since I tumbled onto my bed?

Mind so filled with thought that clearly has me stressed.
Racing, scattered thought that just wont let me rest.

Blanket that feels loose and shifts to feel oh so tight,
and so it sets the pattern for this never ending night.

I know that I must sleep before the rise again of the sun,
in a world that cant relent from insistence things must be done.

My body urgent in its craving to be silent and be still,
but my mind just wont give in possessing the stronger will.

A discomfort on my left side, so I roll again to my right.
Countless repetition through the hours of a god forsaken night.

Nothing that I do brings a sense my mind is nearing calm,
I must try to get some sleep before clock sounds its alarm.

So the hours go, too many hours surely for just one night,
but too late now to rest as window reveals dawns early light.
Oh too many nights like this....
Bella Isaacs Sep 2021
What flawed design is this? Framed by greed, eyed by chance,
Do you think so easily you can entrap me in this dance?
It is a marriage contract in which I have no choice -
I have no ground, no sound, no voice...
I cannot. What? Either it is my future or my siblings' in jeopardy.
I exaggerate - We can afford this, but barely.
Minimum student loan: The bane of many, the burden of many
Burden of unrealistic measures. You ask me to live off borrowed money
On borrowed time? You ask me to learn as others did off reflections from the past,
When time has moved on, and moved on fast?
When the world is barking at these measures, and still it continues,
And I, at risk of being denied an education, cannot refuse
To do things, not just by halves, but by even by eighths.
And would I, I would refuse another year, and hope the Fates
Prove kind. Do they prove kind to those who complain?
Who ever loved a rebel, when the rebel was alone?
My university is giving me 2 hours of in-person teaching a week, and the rest is online, and they are asking me to travel to the campus to study, meaning I have to pay to live there. My parents are already paying for my mother's degree and my siblings' education, and they'll have to help me too, but for what? I have to take out a large student loan, for what? I have to pay the same as other students did in days gone by, when they had in-person lectures and seminars. And I get two hours a week. I am appalled, and I know I'm not the only person in this situation. It's so absurd.
Anyway, my problems aside: If you liked this, I would ask you please to consider donating to The Morten Group - Oxford (https://www.development.ox.ac.uk/mecfs). This would help fund my mother's PhD, in which she will be trying to find the cause of ME/CFS and other serious fatigue-related illnesses, which affect the quality of life of millions. Thank you so much!

UPDATE: I've found out I am having more in-person contact time, thank goodness! But still less than I would pre-COVID!
Jay M Aug 2021
As the night wears on
As the mind wanders
Ponders what is to come
A heart yearns, it longs
For words of comfort
Even if they are uncertain
The fact they could be spoken
Brought to life, to weary ears
Would put one at ease

- Jay M
August 28th, 2021
Words can be comfort, a great one at that- surely a poet would know.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
Some thing did say, in my mind
don't make this another tequila day,

I laughed and sang along
as I poured the Peligro and sang my own ****** song.
And I'll see the sunrise.
LC Jun 2021
she ran a hand over her heart.
the tip of her finger got caught
in a small stitch tightly sewn
to keep her heart together.
but in that fateful moment,
the stitch quickly unraveled,
loosening her still-beating heart
until the pieces could do nothing
but stumble around each other,
crumble into soft, maroon dust,
and settle into her weary bones.
Jamesb Mar 2021
War is hell and battles
Are ****** and hard
Whether in flander's fields
Or spiritual plains,

As I sit scrubbing ocre
From my sword's flanks
Lest it's vitriol pit
My blade

I test the edge and run
An oilstone along to
Finesse away dullness,
And look around

At a post martial landscape
Littered with scorched scars Where demons were,
And shell holes whence

Came criticism and ungrateful
Viciousness and suspicion,
And realise for the ten Thousandth time

There is no victory in valour,
Nor glory in a battle won,
Just a grubby pause before
The next attack
Just musing on the nature of a life spent stepping up
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