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My bleeding here like this -
May it never stop until I have
Taken my very last breath.
And in that last breath may I
Somehow take up my pen
Thrusting it into my chest once again
To make way for the release of that last
Phrase which still anchors itself so
****** deep in my soul.

Oh, to feel it finally ooze from me
Leaving me void of its painful control.
Of which I both love it and I hate it too.
Its double edged influence like God
Himself on the one side giving me hope
While the devil is on the other,
The destroyer of all that I ever hoped.
Oh dear Lord - is not my pen like
A multi-cartridge-d vessel containing
More than just one color?

At times to be blue
When the pain of life draws out that color.
Spilling all my tears
To anyone within my reach.
At other times my pen writes a crimson red,
Letting go of all the love that is in me.
Then to click it yet again to find the black
Darkness that also lives somewhere in my soul.
But there is another color, isn’t there Lord?

Yes, one so silky white in color
That when I write in on this page
No one can ever see it.
That is, no one but you Lord.
So if I leave a white page
With my last dying breath
Perhaps you’ll understand that it’s
Just another note from me to you.

Pulling my pen from my bleeding heart
While taking the last breath I shall write to you:

With the tidings of my fate squarely in your hands oh Lord,
My bleeding has not quite yet stopped.
Here you are to come to administer
Whatever consolation of thy affection
That thy Love has for me.
Dear Lord, receiveth my parting breath
And close my eyes within your blessings.
And when I reawaken let me find myself
Somewhere in the midst of your framework.

Thou hast undoubtedly numbered all of my tears
And placed them in a bottle for safe keeping.
Dear God, thou has always been the framework
For all these words that I bleed upon these pages.
They were all my fancy embracing my feeble knees
Hoping to raise my eyes to bid me into your comfort.
They are all my own blessings like the child within my heart.
Never more so than when I am bleeding here like this
In these words – only then do I feel your principles
Ever present within me.

So take me Lord when my bleeding has stopped
And please don’t be alarmed if even then
My soul dips its finger into my own crimson jell
And one last time with that finger I write

In the name of Love……
This is a repost. I think this is my favorite piece that I wrote many years ago. I still feel this way. Even when I’m not writing I’m always thinking of what to write. If you are as infected as I am about trying to express whatever this is inside of us all - I think you’ll appreciate this piece.
 Apr 2018 starchild
Jex Allen
If I'm to die
How many people will remember my name?
How many will remember the real me?
If I'm to die...
How many tears will people cry?
How many dark days would follow?
If I'm to die....
Will anyone even care?
Will they notice?
 Apr 2018 starchild
Camille lily
Sickly sweet odour of cheap perfume hangs in the air.
From the third floor widow she stares wistfully to the street below.
Crowded with shoppers, lovers, diners and meanderers.
Clutching brightly coloured bags stuffed with all manner of trivialities.
She turns away, surveying her personal hell.
Crimson taffeta bedding creating a gaudy yet stark centrepiece against stained grey walls.
Where men, one after the other set sail on a voyage paid for by the hour.
A far cry from her childhood dreams - oh the naivety of youth!...
She smiles a bitter smile....her reflection in the mirror tells nothing of the angst deep within.
Of the dreams now crushed...hopes scattered like the petals of a dying rose.
The road ahead desolate and bleak.
No sweet memories to carry with her from the path she walked before.
Emptiness and blackness.. hidden by the thin veneer of the street girl.
The provocative clothing and makeup distraction enough for the men who seek to forget.
Her body a welcome release from their comfortable yet mundane lives.
Caring not for the flicker of sadness and desperation they see in her painted eyes.
Seeking only to quell their own thirst, before their return to middle class suburbia.
Gaze carefully averted from the track marked arm that reaches out to take her fee.
**** already calling her phone, eager for the next client to take his fill.
Needle at the ready to pump her vein full of mind numbing poison.
Desensitised and dehumanised, his control absolute.
She longs for the release that only death can bring.
Even that is beyond her reach, her movements watched around the clock.
Shoulders slumped she replaces the bed sheet.
The door opens and once again she smiles her empty lipstick smile.
****** drenched mind now dull, compliant.
Ravaged body, skeletal thin.. still of use.. for now.
Before she joins the others that were so casually used and discarded.
Their bodies wrapped in black plastic and weighted down with stones.
Cast out to a watery grave.....
In death comes sweet release.
 Mar 2018 starchild
trinity
time
 Mar 2018 starchild
trinity
it scares me;
i am constantly terrified of how fast it comes and goes,
how slow it comes and goes,
how much power it holds.

i can think
of no better way to describe it but to call it sand
i try to focus on each grain, each second, and
it just slips right from my hand.

it makes me
want to do everything available to me,
want to do nothing but crumple and weep,
want to stop and go unseen.

i am scared.
i am so scared of what it will bring,
so scared, because time is the one thing
that i can never keep.
not my best, but i wanted to vent and try something new with how i write poetry, and thus, here we are :)
 Mar 2018 starchild
Eevee
I have always been told to get out of my shell,
To face the world with new eyes,
To look at it for the first time,
I moved for the first time,
I have been told to try something new.

But the one thing that stays the same is,
My one true love,
My friends,
And my family.
I left my family, friends, and true loves in Utah.
I never cried so hard.
I have never felt more alone
I know what being alone feels like.
 Mar 2018 starchild
Dianna
Control
 Mar 2018 starchild
Dianna
Sometimes I have no control
I just stop functioning
But I don't
My hands move
My head moves
My eyes move
watching it all happening
But it's not me
But it is
What is happening?
Who is in control?
 Mar 2018 starchild
Imran Islam
You're kind and respectful
you're sweet and beautiful
you're pious and honest
you're polite and modest.
You're cool and wonderful!

You've happy smiles and lovely eyes
you have an amazing look and face
you have a great heart and sweet voice
you've such a soft mind.
You're so cute and special!

You respect your parents
and respond to your friends
you love your family so much
and you're a gift of peace.
You care all about them!
 Mar 2018 starchild
Jaslin Goh
I was fire, you were ice
You said you'd never crack

I'd like to think you did
Under the flames o' mine

We thought we'd reached equilibrium
Until things got uncomfortable

Fiery as I, bitter as you
We summon blows

I am fire, you are ice
People say opposites attract

We thought the same
Yet we never saw each other again
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