#straw
The straw that broke the camel’s back
A straw quite ordinary
Its weight did not mean very much
Not challenging to carry
But even though this measly straw
Was worthless on its own
It had a value and a strength
That was only timely shown
The straw itself, pretentious not
Had knowledge of its role
Quite useless was it by itself
This it could not control
But when it was allowed to be
A part of bale or heap
Its value all at once appeared
To be no longer cheap
And so one day to its surprise
It really didn’t know
It was the one who did the trick
Before anyone could say **
Wendy Nipas
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 8:57 AM UTC
confirm your love
she talked
i asked how ?
she said confirm
i do not have enough
knowledge to swim
at oceans of your love
you know i am not sailor
or captain of navy of your heart
i am only one who likes your smart
i am not that pilot of planes swarm of your head
which knows the truth or who making fault
i am only wondering of your look
i am not farmer who grows the plants
of your eyes which are growing of your look
spreading fruits of hope and love
at my heart
i am only visiting the rose of your cheeks
i am not humours of your sweet souls
i am only remarking the sweet berry of your lips
i am diving at the ocean of your love
save me, help ,help
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 3:59 AM UTC
Sandbox constructs, talk to me.
Play to me.
Dancing straw, pull on the wind,
give color and shape, give name.
I will be straw too one time, then many times,
and will dance with the straw in the wind.
These are joyful times, all alone, no interference. No you.
Mouse you sneaks in the sandbox,
chews on my straw and nests in my sand.
In possession of some key.
(I want to ask about the key, but I can’t.
I am supposed to be made of straw.)
Perturbed, I chase you out.
My world of sand and straw is too fragile for your beating heart.
It will fall apart, will be rubbed raw and threadbare.
But you sneak in again,
and look at me as if I am not straw,
and the ground as if it is not sand
but solid earth, rich and full.
Clearing the board I start over.
Drive you out
and begin to map out the pattern of this cloth.
Time begins to unspool, following its slow track.
Joyful in this beginning, this gradual awakening.
Patience.
Humility.
I never know when (or if) you’re going to appear.
So often the game plays out without a hitch,
or you appear so late that it makes no difference.
But I hear your heartbeat now: the rapid thudding,
and know you are here.
A mouse nuzzling through the straw,
invading the gentle morning of this world
when all may be ruined, all may be averted.
Bold, undisguised you,
and I, perfect shaft of damp straw;
it does not fool you.
Discovered at the worst moment,
tender and caught.
You, unruffled by the wind, realizing the position you’re in.
Realizing the position I’m in:
holding all the keys but unprepared to use them.
You have your own plans and ideas.
You dance around me,
playing provocateur, trying to make me
show my hand, my key.
I pretend I don’t know what you’re up to.
I hope you lose interest and give up.
Hope a chance wind sweeps you up,
like a great swell from the sea,
and I never see you again.
Hope you suddenly doubt yourself, blinking,
finally convinced by my damp posing,
my mute bafflement and loyalty to the wind
and wonder, isn’t this straw?
Dare I play your game?
Dare I nod to your tune?
I use one of my keys.
Walk through a door that shouldn’t open,
you at my heels, all eager to see backstage,
to see the actor who plays me.
You already know what you have known since you saw my face.
The same face you have seen dancing in and out
of pale replicas of borrowed worlds.
And finally I let you hear from my lips
what you have suspected the whole time.
That I am not the straw or the sand or even the wind.
That I know you aren’t either.
That I know that you know.
That yes, it was a character and it was a role.
That it was a game I play, usually alone.
“It was just for light fun and idle amusement,” I say.
“Nothing was at stake.
So why the sabotage?”
Then, in spite of our twin hearts,
I see how different you are from me.
What calms me enrages you.
What worries me soothes you.
What I call “light fun and idle amusement”
you call “life and death.”
“Everything was at stake,” you say.
You say, “this world is full, full to the brim. People just like you.”
Fool.
Don’t you realize where you are?
Look around, it is a world of sand and straw
blowing in the wind.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC
Straw hemmed down
Crackling beneath collapsed feet
And folded underneath
Like a prayer
I'm bound to you and to this moment
Like a song
I wait for the inevitable record scratch
And the crackling repeat
Of whenever we roll
Over the breaking backs of the strawfall down
On the bed we made
Where our young bodies first did meet
May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
Scarecrow stands in wait
watching cross fields of florets.
"Beware birds of black,
begone and don't come back.
For I am mighty scarecrow.
Standing guard catching breeze in hat."
StrawJack , intoned to crow brat.
Straw man stands in wait,
taking job seriously in straw abode.
With pride loving his Mother Earth,
he dances with wind in mirth.
He's Friend to all who bloom
and bells that croon.
Spending company with
passing clouds and moon.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
"Depression" #writtenviaVenjencieArnold
I.
When your voice becomes raspy & dry with words that are empty, without meaning, Your eyes still see all,
Your ears still hear all,
Oh, close my eyes goodnight like you would to a soul that says goodnight, Stuff my ears so they may not hear the cries.
II.
Oh lay my body down so it may not fall, I'm paralyzed without the slightest motion, in the same token I'm filled with boundless emotion, Movement of fears, Movement of tears, Oh lay my body down so it may not fall.
III.
I feel as if when you look at me I've become less than the puppet that I once was, I feel as if when you look at me you see a body stuffed with straw, Oh lay this scarecrow down so it may not fall.
IV.
I no longer hold shape, I'm bland without color, I'm unable to stand on my own, I used to be loved by so many that I've known, Only if my mind could follow my body's steps... no memory recall, Then I won't know if you choose to let my body fall.
V.
My eyes hollow like those of the hollow stuffed men, My heart is beating, I'm still bleeding, I'm full of emotion like an explosion in the ocean. I have memory recall, My ears still hear all, My eyes still see all, Oh lay a penny on my eyelids to secure them that may stay closed, Stuff my ears so they may never again be exposed.
VI.
Lay me down with the worn out scarecrows or where the Lilly's grow, You no longer know that I use to be a human body with a brain, heart & soul, Oh just lay this body low, Maybe God will soon take my soul.
~SacredInkedBlood ©Oct_04_2018 Venjencie Clifton Arnold
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
Please, just please
Put me out of my misery
I can't stand existence
I didn't ask for this ****
Why, oh why, must I be
Put me out of my misery
Slit wrist or a noose around my neck
I'm almost ready, but not yet
A straw, a brick
A hug, a kiss
Poisoned thoughts
I've had enough of this
Broken backs, broken dreams
You have no idea what I've done, and what I've seen
I cannot end it, because I deserve this pain
I'm a loser and hate the game
Purge my soul
Break my bones
Leave me broken
Or send me home
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 9:29 PM UTC
How old is old?
I don't know
cuz I'm already there
How do you know
that you're old?
it's not a when, or where
Why are you old?
age I suppose
it comes with every mile
Why is this so?
youth will go
that's always been in style
Where is the time?
memories remind
of ages past, and gone
Where did it begin
or end?
it's just the straw
we've drawn
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC
There are a series of drafts
that blow fiercely through the gaps
of the home of creativity.
Cooling the efforts
of the imaginative fire,
so that it no longer grows or glows.
The home's strength is tested
by its own scarecrow,
who should be out with the crops
to discourage other birds,
that can stop new growth.
But the straw-man persists
with his unequal arguments.
Tampering with emotions
inciting the fire to risky proportions.
And so the home of creativity
burns itself down.
Because it's walls are too weak
that some straw-stuffed clown
can overstep it's boundaries
and raze it to the ground.
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 4:12 AM UTC
you might as well
asked me to drink
bleach through a straw,
boiling to a point where
i could smell the sharpness
like a needle through my nose
and when girls say they
tried to drink men away, i
laugh at them
because yellow teeth
and lemonade
from the sourest of lemons,
squeezed and strained through a
sugared cloth by the hands of
your mother's mother
still tastes like ****
sour as it may be
life is nothing more
than an endless
under-sink
cabinet
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Sometimes I imagine
The wall I would build around my heart
If I needed to
Maybe it would be made of red bricks
Maybe sticks or straw
That a wolf could easily blow down.
Maybe it would be a huge concrete wall
Solid and hard
Maybe it would be made of metal
With bolts connecting the rounds
Maybe it would be hard to get through
Maybe my wall would be made of glass
Easy to see through
Delicate
Easy to break
But beautiful in the light
Maybe I won’t build a wall
I’ll be easy to read
Easy to break
Easy to hurt
Vulnerable to the outside storm
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
Suppose it's all sullen and weak,
Controlled by the means of our mind,
Selecting my greatest ambition,
To corodially define,
Sol,
Go,
Cre,
Love always
mens gens
Meaning mind tribe in Latin
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
Life is a full cup of craziness
The answer is never to just empty out the contents of the cup.
Just take the lid and Shut the Full-Cup
P.s. Here's a straw for all those people that **** in this cup of craziness.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
They said the wolf
Beware
But in truth it was not he
All should fear
Misunderstood
Stigmatised
Tainted
His name was mud
Listen,
Observe,
Eavesdrop,
On the words that growl forth,
Three,
Little,
Pigs,
They seemed so succulent,
"Wait rephrase that"
Those bacon bandits,
"Wait misunderstood definition"
Those pink porkers
A triangle of terror they were
To me,
A birthday wish for their mother you see,
Fur, but fur isn't cheap
So a thought??
)POPPED(
In to there salty minds
A wolf could make not
One
Not
Two
But one for each.
"Are you still listening"
They planned, snorted
Laughed with glee, my end planned
By all three it seems
The first
Flame was his weapon
Straw
Tightly bound
Ablaze in my face
A circle
Straw,
Match
Fire
I had no escape it would seem,
But as I was pushing behind
A trap cleverly conceived
But I was not defenceless,
I
Huffed
&
Puffed,
And with an exhale,
The flame
Did extinguish
Was blown out,
Embers lit up the sky,
As a pig now in my sights
"Gulp"
"GUlp"
"GULP
And smile upon my face
As I huffed and puffed
Inhaled
All that surrounded,
Inhaled,
Exhaled,
Everything out
Piggy was now floating in air
"One final inhale"
And piggy was hanging by his pinkies
Inside of my wolfs mouth
"This little piggy was naughty"
"This little piggy used his mouth"
"One final piggy down the hatch,"
I licked my lips and that was that.
I walked along now knowing their plan
And by a whisker
It just missed
Matrix style dodges
Ensued
Wooden spears
Shrieked past,
Out of the corner of my eye
"I saw him"
"A glint in his eye"
As Ten wooden spears
Launched,
Flight,
Shards,
Of stick rained down
"Was this my end"
?
?
I
Huffed
&
Puffed,
And these sticks paper cut
My nose then
In to the wind they flew
Have you heard a piggy
Squeal,
Scream,
Oink
All in one exhale its not pretty
As spears one and another
Encircled my porky Friend
His pink now white with fear encircled
"No way out"
"Pinkie"
He smiled I inhaled
And once again a piggy held on
To my snout
Eyes watering I said
"This little piggy was naughty"
"This little piggy used his mouth"
"One final piggy down the hatch,"
I licked my lips and that was that.
"I hope your listening"
I growled
It was him or me I would be
Fur upon a back
So used my senses
Sight,
Hearing,
Snout,
But he was no where to be found,
I looked for this bad bacon
High
&
low
So I went home to ponder
"Was it over"
I sat in my chair,
Then a brick through my
Window did appear
Come out and play
I scratched my head??
"Why not just knock the door"
As I went out side
A castle of brick and stone
At the bottom of my garden
"Impressive I say"
"Did I just say that out loud"
You may have eaten
One pig,
Two pig,
But you'll not get the desert,
I
Huffed
&
Puffed,
And down the phone I shouted
To the council of the land,
"Permits"
"Height"
"Private land"
And with that the castle came down
There is more than one way
To get a piggy off my land
As they left, the piggy snuck off too,
"Where are you going piggy"
"Unfinished business me and you"
It was them they made
Me do it,
Then a growl came forth
And two voices spoke
One little piggy
"It was his plan from the start"
Then a second piggy spoke out
"He set you up, as well as us"
The piggy startled
Voices echoed out
"Really"
I spoke
Yes my plan he snorted then laughed
"What you going to do"
I
Huffed
&
Puffed,
And blew my wind out
Have you ever seen a
Piglet role down a hill
The noise was like
Oink
OUCH
Oink
OUCH
And with that I
Inhaled,
And the bruised and battered piggy held
On to my whiskers
Eyes watering,
Nose dripping out,
"This little piggy was naughty"
"This little piggy used his mouth"
"One final piggy down the hatch,"
I licked my lips and that was that
"I hope your still listening"
My belly rumbled
It was what I had eaten
Not agreeing with me
I went to the
Jailhouse
Slammer
Lockup*
For this is where
They were regurgitated,
And Spat out, these
*Three
Little
Pigs*
Would be doing
Twenty five
To
Life,
In a prison of jackals
These little pigs are going to have
A hard time sweating salt,
Fear in there eyes instead of mine,
"Are you Listening"
What you thought I'd eaten them??
I'm a vegetarian for goodness sake
I licked my lips but bacon does taste nice...
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
When you are here,
Even the air feels better.
Food taste good,
Even in bad weather.
Music makes sense,
Love songs sound better.
Love sharing my drink,
Cause your slime on the straw makes it taste better.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
The straw that broke the camel's back
Was auctioned off on Ebay
And bought by an amnesiac
Who liked collecting hay.
If possession is nine-tenths of the law
All I need to do now
Is buy the final straw
And then he was sectioned
And taken away.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC