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 Sep 2014 Layla Thurman
gwen


the more you ask me if I’m okay,

the more I will think I’m not.


and the more inclined

I will be to smile

and say

*‘yes’.
Asleep in my bed dreaming of you
With every breath that I breathe
I prove this is true

Snoring so loudly I didn't hear
The shatter of glass somewhere near
He came through my window
With one swift kick
Or maybe it was a soft click

Waking with fright
On the calmest of nights
He makes his way to the bed
And places a gun on my head

He orders me to stand
And binds both my hands
"Get down on your knees!"
I hear him decree

He asks where my valuables are
And I answer
"Sir, my only treasure was lost to cancer"

"Shut up!" He says
"I know you've got money!
You must take me for a fool.
Do you think this is funny?"

"No this isn't funny", I reply
"But the truth is I'm a very broke guy
I lost my wife, she was my soul.
Ever since that day
I've never felt whole"

"See, we used all our money
To pay for her care
She went in for treatments
That got us nowhere"

I'm kneeling here now
Seeing no purpose in another day
I wish he'd pull the trigger
I don't want to stay

When he realizes I have nothing
He hits me with the gun
I hear him remark
"Well, boy, it's been fun"

His finger clenches the trigger
I await my fate with glee
Be patient my darling
Your face I'll soon see

I hear the shot before I feel the sting
In that moment I don't feel a thing
Then a thousand volcanoes
Erupt in my brain

Seeing it in the third person now
I look down upon the scene
But what does it all mean?

I see my own head exploding
Covering a picture of us on the wall
In my brain goo
You were always on my mind
Now my mind is on you
I wrote this after watching the dead poets society
Are you here, are you there? Are you really anywhere? Do you exist? Do I even care?

All my life on your side, it was quite the ride. But now Im confused and I really need you.

Where are you now? Can you not make a sound? Are you even around?

All the years, all the fears. All the pain and the tears. I felt shunned, I think Im done. Give me a reason to hope.

All the prayers without cares. Why'd I waste my breath? All the times I was broke, and didnt have a dime.

To show for my face, I was such a disgrace. But. So. Were. You.

I sought you in your word, how absurd could I be? I guess I thought you might give a **** about me.

I was wrong, now this song is my cry to a doomed world. I sing about your lack of love for me. All I ask is why?
We are monuments.
Every one of us.
I see before me,
men, women and children
and each one of us is a pillar
upon which entire worlds were built.
Too often do I find this innate sense of guilt,
that stems from not becoming
what we should have been.
I've seen opera singers sell their vocal chords
and take up vows of silence.
I've seen warriors give up the art of violence
and become holy men.
I suppose everything will fall in doubt,
now and then.
But we are pillars,
built to hold up things bigger than ourselves.
If any single one of us fails,
our whole house grows weaker.

This is the place we have been given,
to walk upon and live in.
Each one of it's valleys and peaks
and ditches and creeks
has heard the voice that speaks
of humanity.
Our impact upon this land is timeless.
Yet it seems that yesterday's graveyards,
will become today's sandboxes
until they are tomorrow's graveyards.

We are the pillars that hold up the sky,
we will all stand and we will all fall,
without really knowing why,
but the morale of every story
is hidden behind the words
like the forest behind the trees.
I know we all have memories
but these,
these are for you.
Even if all they ever do
is get you through this one day
then that have paved the way
for tomorrow.
That's all you can ask for, really,
is tomorrow.
One day, we will be denied.
You might have been steady
Loving
And kind
But your love didn’t surprise me
Or blow my mind
 Sep 2014 Layla Thurman
Dee
Every morning in my garden I see
A fluttering gentle little soprano
Humming the song of her life
Hovering around seductive colours
Tasting, sipping nature’s recipe
Fluttering wings, ****** heart beat
Waltzing in midair to a melody so sweet
Happy to be alive, genuflecting for gifts of life

Every morning in my garden I pray
I wish what she wished was a reality
Not an illusion, a self delusional creation
Her happiness momentary, squashed in infancy
Hawks, raptors, eagles await in anticipation
With scythes in their hands…
Sharpening them, vying with each other
Whose morsel shall she be
I wish what she wished was a reality

For her will there be a tomorrow …?
Metaphor, sad
when it's raining in your heart
i will put my umbrella over it.
when your coffee is bitter,
i will be the sugar.
when your heart is breaking
i'll buy a hundred band-aids.
when you're feeling small,
i'll tell you that you're brave.
when you're feeling tired,
i will let my shoulders be your pillow.
wherever you are,
there i'll be.
whatever you need,
here is me.
Written for my mother.
I just had a memory
Of you skipping
Past me
In the streets of Brazil
At one in the morning

I just had a memory
Of you dancing
With me
In the streets of Brazil
At three in the morning

I just had a memory
Of you dipping me
Close to kissing me
In the streets of Brazil
At four in the morning
A tired, lopsided grin...
My legs like jelly...
Staring into your would-be, should-be green eyes...
At one, three, and four.
...       Whatever happened to 2 a.m.?
 Sep 2014 Layla Thurman
Mikaila
You are going to drive me the rest of the way to insane, aren't you?
Alright. I've already hit a tree once this year. Bring it on.
I'd go anywhere with you.
Golden Gate Bridge,
pathway between two worlds
the bay's own graveyard.

A young man named Kevin
on the rail, talking to officers.
Shifting
from side
to side
a leg in both worlds.

He had lost all hope
odds were stacked against
life had doled out too many lemons
and he leapt.
Ending his own pain
and sparking everyone else's.
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