Carl Halling Apr 9

How I try to count my blessings,
They do little to ease my saudade,
Look to the past
For some consolation,
But the past remains resistant,
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

Twenty years to destroy an existence,
Is all it took,
To steal my contentment,
Look to the past for a glimmer of peace,
To the past for a little release.
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

On one level, I feel so blessed,
Cleave to life with all my strength,
There’s so much to be thankful about,
‘Til I sink back into deepest night,
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

'To Ease My Saudade' was written a few days ago as a song lyric, and at the time it reflected how I felt; but as of today, 9 April 2017, I don't identify with it so strongly.
Makula Hala Apr 7

The walls around me
tower over me even
in such a short room.
Unfriendly reminders of
ugly mistakes
and the chain
and shackles of my past.
What is it like
to know
I have taken a step backward,
fall forward,
but still somehow I've
managed to fall on my ass -
stuck in neutral
in this guarded dungeon?
My walls are worn
and corroded,
from neglect, and now
I have allowed them to crumble.
And here I kneel,
weak and alone,
crying out for that one thing
everyone wants from an empty home,
but the echoes are
my only friends.

Angel Mar 18

In the midst of broken dreams,
lies an obnoxious and hellish tragedy
closes my eyes, looking void at it seems
an uncompromising reality
hauled me down like gravity.

An alluring agony
filled the depths of my soul
and I gyrate in my own catastrophe.
Peregrinate on the path of desperation
for I only discern the world full of sorrow and temptation.

Woe and tribulation torment my soul
melancholy reigns without control.
Vexation amalgamates with my grief
but this darkness leads to no relief.
Desire bawling for a release
wanting not a thing but only for peace.

Tried to conquer
hence, turned me into a monster
inside me is being slaughter
I am no good, but a living disaster.
Noxious gas of grieve
every inhale makes me pale
evilness is now the master
hath no power to make it leave.

In the midst of broken dreams
lies a tragic yet beautiful tragedy
open my eyes, the darkness beams
the grip of reality
pulls me like an abysmal gravity.

Pauline Russell Feb 28

So it began, my life of pain
Covered in shame
Step-dad laid his claim

So it began, my life of woe
Down the rabbit hole
Some known how the story goes

So it began my life of tragedy
It happened so rapidly
It is now my woven tapestry

So it began, my life of regrets
Sadly it's not over yet
Impaled daily on life's bayonet

©Pauline Russell

Pearson Bolt Feb 25

i maintain,
is watching those
you love languish
in agony, powerless
to alleviate their
i would suffer
if i could just
your woe.

Chris Neilson Jan 11

A young girl's life ended
without the opportunity to grow
made all reason incomprehensible
shrouded the family in agonising woe

Her nascent bubbling personality
not given the light to flower
taken from this life
too soon for a final hour

Her mother may have questioned her God
her father may have denounced his belief
broken hearts may never have truly mended
prolonged time may never have healed grief

Her mother may have believed in heaven
her father may have returned to Mass
but their faith would be fully realised
if rejoining her came to pass

A personal piece. A tribute to my parents and my sister who passed away in infancy.

The darkness disguised as light that is life creeps slowly into my spine like water dripping down a rain gutter after a storm. The reality in the air fills my lungs like twenty cigarettes all smoked in a dimly-lit stairwell on a Tuesday afternoon. I exhale as hard as I can, but the reality ceases to leave my being. It carves into my windpipe like a tiger's paw, ripping it into shreds as gravity pulls it back down.

I take a look at the calendar. A calm font reads December 24. I feel nothing. There is no cheer or happiness lingering in the supposedly cool December breeze. It used to fill the air with the scent of gingerbread and mint, but all there is now is the smell of rotting garbage, sun-dried piss, and the occasional stench of shit.

False smiles are painted across coffee shop windows. Bright lights that distract you from the world are wrapped around the trees. Mary gives birth to Jesus on each manger atop each building. It all still feels blank. The magic is gone. The false smiles frown at me. The luster of each bulb of each string of light has faded into a bland dullness. What lies atop the buildings are dead eyed statues.

Where has it all gone?

Hayley Siebert Dec 2016

I cannot keep this
This fruitless ache
This pounding in my head

There go my blades
At their works
Bloody arts!
Sign the dotted line in blood
Your blood!

We try to bleed it out!
each droplet an hour of agonies
crimson muck
We cried but in vain
This depressive, this manic
This open raw wound
to which everyone spits in
For tis that which they doth not see
Oh so blind to!

Therapies, forsooth! a worthless pastime
Clonazepam, Quetiapine
Dampen the mood, quieten the voices

A mind torn asunder
for of winter snow
and summer thunder
a body I do plunder
to rip out these demons
exorcise these ghouls
claw out these ghosts

This cannot be glorified
it is not beautifully broken
but tearing oneself apart
to remove the ashes in my head

Borderline personality disorder
Post traumatic stress disorder...

A poem on the effects of self harm and mental illness

I've realized that I love hard
In the moment I can suffocate love
before it has even been born.
I rush in, in fear of loosing it.
And when they knock me back
I fall apart.
I can say that I'm strong all that I want but I'm not
and even this is just playing the victim
oh woe is me oh woe is I
suffocating love before it can cry.
oh woe is we oh woe is us...
or is it just me that cant see when enough is enough

wow its been a minute hasn't it since I posted....hoped you liked it!
Pauline Russell Oct 2016

I went down to the land of woe
Where all the selfish people go
They all set around a banquet table
But to eat they just weren't able
Glorious food was all abound
Eagerly at that table they all sat around
But the forks and spoons where a mile long
They all cried, "this is unfair and wrong"
Try as the might
They couldn't get it right
Some where dying of hunger
They couldn't get the food to their mouths, they where going under
They couldn't  figure out how to eat
It seems this life has them beat


Just across the river nine
This is what you'll find
It's the exact same scene
Glorious food, it's so serene
They all set around a great big table
Same long utensils, but to eat they are able
Can you imagine what the difference is
Why they can eat and live like this.....................

It's a lesson we all should learn
So by ourselves we don't get burned
It's as simple as thinking of others
For my friend, they feed one another

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