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#smashed
I still wear her shawl hand knitted gravel-toned not an item I'd buy in a shop but it's so Mrs. Saks lamb soft under many layers of crusty chill she'd have it on standing all of five feet tall hands on her hips peering sharply down her steep drive her wooden hut buried in rambling thorns of isolation I'd ask about her life in the old country for her as if yesterday in broken English she'd tell of the scenes that bitter day I'd make notes to write that essay so people see her checklist sharp as martensite toughened steel of mountain fire fathers and sons picked off mothers' wails silenced made to look their babies smashed screaming in shallow soil as soldiers laughed hyenas glibly stealing a people's jewels not seeing the core lived on still
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Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 6:42 AM UTC
her gravel-grey shawl (war content)
Though we wish,              can we ever find our                     prince charming.. A shoe may fit, but is it comfortable. And our happy ever after is but a moment,          of chemical imbalances before we realise.    That we should have smashed                                   the happy ever after.   As glass always cuts deep                                    it only takes time.
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:38 PM UTC
When The Shoe Is Shards
I always used to say you broke me as a metaphor in my poetry but now that I’m thinking about it you actually did…
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Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
actually broken
Stepped on, squandered, smashed. Thrown, trampled, trashed. Everyone passing you by, Not wanting to look you in the eye. They think you're ugly, Glancing at you smugly. What they don't know, Is that you bestow A beauty they can't even comprehend. For I think you set a trend. A trend of great love and beauty, Who's splattered cement still smells fruity. They'll never know you like I do, So let's bid them all Adieu.
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
Gum Squashed in the Highway
Blubber Sometimes I get tired Of all the blubber The grinding of systems The metal to the rubber The pushing of points The singing to the choir Pickaxe in place of featherc Look there's a bird upon the wire Maybe potions going dry No thank you please And fingers going all stiff While here awaits the feast And vases laying all smashed Words sitting there all torn Lets gather the broken scraps Rearrange them and be reborn Maybe it's me and only me Closing an old and tattered page Maybe I've overstayed my welcome On an old and creaky stage Ah the sticks an stones are smiling now The crows I think they've left But the cinders upon ash Still burn bright upon this hearth Out into the clearing See it twinkling up ahead An inkling of some something Some of us have thought of and said Merlin's done it agian Con-Ed's shut down Tesla's come into power And White Bear gets his crown Oh And George Carlin is pope Shakespeare is president They both know the ropes And you what ya think? Wink, wink
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
Blubber
Betrayal. That's where it began. I felt my womb retract deep within my being. There was a tie between this and my heart, although broken, this I knew. My heart became overcome with pain, fear, disbelief. I felt it stop repeatedly. Beats irregular. Stunted. Deafening. Crumbling into a heap on the grass I cradled my womb as I rocked back and forth, hoping this may stop the pain and retching occurring from within. Time and space became distorted. Sound too. Everything within was shattered. My spirit was broken. My skin crawling with terror at the mere fact of my deepest fears now occurring before my eyes. My physical being attempted to expel the trauma through emesis. Wailing as an attempt to free the terminal despair. This was unsuccessful. I have never felt my eyes flow so extensively in such a small amount of time. No matter what I done, I was left in a torturous state of hysteria. How could he rip my heart, womb, soul and trust apart. Everything I gave. Everything he said. Everything we made. Gone.
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Love womb - pt 2
Chapped lips carry a searing burn in memory of your scalding kisses So thus they ache and yearn throbbing in agonizing reminiscence As we sought the key that might unstuck the hallowed steel floodgates of our innocence We found instead a stroke of bittersweet luck in respect, I vowed to resist my own appetence I meet you here in the overgrown tangle of garden that once nurtured what I let fall to waste Under the pale moonlight laden in pardon that I beg from you as I crave another taste Smashing my precious memories shattering my gears Now I beg mercy of my former self as she caves to icy fears.
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Annabelle
I was like a flaming Tyre hurtling down a mountain: when it hit a rock bounced up smashed back down splashed burning blobs on everyone ...then kept going
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Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
I was like
It's strange how creative We become when our hearts Have been broken; Splintered and smashed open, Blood spilling and slowly Becoming ink. Spreading across the page And telling it's story.
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
Untitled
I knew. I knew it from the second she opened her door, her boots in my hand, not even knowing who she was. I knew I was in love. I knew she was in love. Both scared to admit it, but we were. I knew we wouldn't last. She would have to be the one to end it. She was going to have to break my heart. And it couldn't be a clean break. No, no that wouldn't work. My love was too strong. I was prepared to put up a fight. I knew she was going to have to smash it, burn it, then forget it in the rain. And even then, I'd still want her. I knew I would. There was nothing she could do to make the pain stronger than the love. I knew there was no end. Right when she opened the door. I knew.
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
whatthef#ck makeitstop
I stand stapled to the ground A statue of time and depth Views of my past wonder by Stained by the sadness of the world Rust colored tears smear my eyes Cracked fissures weaken my legs I see no wonders around me Sway me forward by the gust Smashed face on the pavement A statue of me Broken and forgotten Pieces scattered Only twenty one years
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
Statue of Me
my face smashed against the concrete when you kicked me from your life; i'm still picking jagged stones from the spaces between my teeth. because of this, i don't smile anymore.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
rocks.