i practice a speech,
so maybe you'd hear me
contorting my words
so they sound more appealing;
endlessly awaiting the appraisal
of my phonics
while, on the inside,
you struggle with responses.
Acknowledgment being
the first step to healing,
i tear open old wounds
by internally seething..
grieving the losses of
speech never spoken,
we utter different dialects;
our English is  broken..
scared to speak up,
and most likely start choking
we dissipate tension
by laughing,
and joking

originally written on the 5th of May, 2017.
Zenith Jul 8

I don't want to live anymore.
I just don't seem to see the point.
My sadness continues on forever
and the pain in my heart makes it so sore.
But I am too cowardly to end it
so this is how I shall spend it.
I will weep and wallow until
the Angel of Death comes for me,
and until then, dead I will be.

written while terribly lonely and mentally unstable on july 7th
Diego Morales Jun 23

To Selene:
Rare a night, her gentle grace is not seen;
Live long torches, shamed, by her beauty’s gleam!
The Queen of night, my heart, she reigns supreme.
Floating high in deep, black lakes of my dreams,
Softly she gazes down past thick and thin;
Distant is her love as we skin to skin;
Fooled, my fervent stretch is never within,
Her affection for me, I’ll never win.
My heart, her misfortune can only reap
This last choice—wound us both more than my weep!
For her sympathy, my eternal sleep!
Now like me, may her woe forever keep.
By day miss her and dream of her by noon
Forever, rest in heart, my dear honey, moon

The sad love between Endymion and Selene
Sets the stage for this sonnet like poem's scene

Woe to humanity
who has severely fallen
who “in the image and likeness
of God” they say
are disfigured, like the devil.

Woe to humanity!
They really do have fallen.
They go all out to war
to exploit and condemn all flaw
and all that’s different between them.

Woe to humanity…
They have yet to preserve life
There is no peace
For they have yet to cease
the fire that has burnt us down.

Woe to humanity,
their prayers are in vain.
Salvation is but
the things of this world
and all they have yet to gain.

Woe to humanity
who has so much to offer.
And yet we have failed
and all the more,
fallen.

(Another one of my older works)
Pagan Paul May 29

.
Woe is me!
Oh! Woe is me!

No longer can I create art
No longer can I pen stanza's
No longer can I rhyme couplets
No longer can I compose beauty

Because they won't let me
They won't let me

Not until
I get
a
.
.
.
Poetic Licence





© Pagan Paul (01/09/16)

.
another oldy :) or maybe oddity :)
.
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.

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,
headlong,
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.

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
woe

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

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