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Nat Lipstadt Jul 29
~weary weighted~

flummoxed are the sea watchers;
the long rhythms of sea change reveal only minor modesties,
difficult discerned are the tidal subtleties

though repetitive thrashing extracts it toll,
only the weary-weighted see the true meaning of the beating,
knowing full well,
it beats for them

recalling their early day’d fascination with its endless chaining,
now knowing all are similar
and  the ******* churning but a cover up masque,
they need not longer conceal,
an unrevealed confess:

water is heavy-weighted, you cannot forever float,
constancy is of a thing to be wary,
its sadder longevity,
a chipping away erosion of wearing,
‘tis is the knelling noise of  sad respite,
an unlight lighthouse

~for Victoria, a year later~

cling to me
hear me

the council arose

what had they to offer

stones they began to cast

here me

they heard nothing

my eyes adjust to the pain

stolen from me is my last breath

over mountains


we can hear them now
they will never

we can hear them now
thief echoes
there echoes

wraiths Jul 2015
my feelings shouldn't be so heavily weighted on you
but i can't help it

brainwaves sync with brainwaves
spirits intertwine

but what am i supposed to do when you rip yourself away from mine?
The river flows endlessly droning on
In its never ending song
Roaring like a train
As I flys with the grain
Rumbling swishing flowing
As one, accepting each drop, growing

The river splashes against the rock
The stationary weight
Pulled down by its heavy burdens
The roaring rivers freight

They are seperate elements
Toghether in the stream
The river a gentle blue gasp of life
A crowd of laughing joy
The rock a heavy grey sorrow
Pushing around the crowd
Cracks from the ages
Of river sweeping around
Now and then harsh or gentle
Waves lap against the rock
Smothing holes or cracking edges
Slowly wearing it down
Yet never joining
For they are seperate elements.
Repost if you ever feel like the rock in a river bed, neither with or against the crowd, simply there, forgotten yet constant. Slowly gaining cracks as your weighted down by the past.
PrttyBrd Nov 2014
Falling in line with the rest
Forgetting that life owes nothing
Knowing better, yet, still being dragged to the dregs of humanity
Weighted by words, chained to emotion
Drowning in doubt, scraping across broken standards
Settling into the remnants of the wasted dreams of a people
Talarah Shepherd May 2014
Loft for the weighted memories still stuck to earth by way of highways in mind deciding worth lost to the odds just might light your best and not the worst to leave you burned and make you hurt with a hole left mid breast so the whole heart started at first sight turns wild in flight and down to depths of stress plumbed once per month while you cry out little droplets blessed with time passed and spent at life's expense, listless and bound to recollect proud moments of ownership, passe notions of leadership, the one who leads and was led is nondescript, if it's turbulence or asphalt smooth to speed in sleep in place of days waking, walking two by four recede to dream where you toss and kick fears and pain away under thick rain you'd rather dry with orange rays and haze of heat, one mute mouthed faux biker writer always at the call though no admittance, transmits recognition of what feels like martian love at collision where no rocks were hit but rifts roared and wracked the soaring sky, pyres and stars reflected in moist eyes at night with even gentle wind or slight breeze, these fragments of us chipped off at cycle's start darkness whether live or lie, do not comply to be cautious when the very thought, though heavy, brings loft for the weighted bevy of ties that chain what happiness we weep to celebrate.

— The End —