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Shannon Nov 2014
I sat under a paper umbrella of the reddest hue autumn
and like an apple
I waited for you to pick me ripe
bite, smell my neck
and remember.
I sat on bench of grey weather boards
waiting to be thrown down upon them-
wanting to be pinned down upon them.
Feet on a rug of discarded
leaves, just like me.
discarded but beautiful.
still just a season long
season woman,
can you love me winter long?
Ill meet you on the snowy bench.
white puffs of apologises will float from my mouth.
my toes will shake and the fence we loved for being red
we'll love for being white.
Red will now slither to my ears and you will say things I can't hear.
And the stars will paint the sky too dark so we
can see that winter sparkles.
Spring is full of other lovers, this bench-
lovers that are not you and I.
And the playground is full of candy wrappers and mothers sneakers.
The trees are majestically green stretching and yawning and showing off.
The children bouncing, whining, crying,  finding.
Spring is full of lovers but not us
so she gives my heart to summer
and glass doesn't melt so the places where I like to feel your sweat
are the places where they like to touch my body.
summer makes us reckless and the bench, our bench is being held together by the squirrels claws and the sparrows talons... they wait for us to scatter.
hot you kiss my dampness, damper.
hot you kiss my pain and sorrow. boiling all the past good voyage.
our fence has lost some posts as,
the children love to climb and kick
it will hold on, still.
but it won't hold-out and won't hold-in which is what fences are meant to do.
at least they should... they should choose.
Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were.
Smelling like the fresh cut wood, ready to have her rings counted
Autumn lover, hold my hand and tell me you are afraid.
Autumn lover, holding color golden like a circle round.
Hurry, before she blows me past the red fence,
Hurry before our secrets get caught by the wind and dance around the playground.
Hurry Autumn lover,
Hurry to remember that you loved me, once.*

Shannon April Alice
11/2/14
www.slovesdisco.com ...my blog, love to have you.
Ria Nagpal Jun 2013
"Attention! Attention!"
"This is the final call for Space World Airlines flight SW406 direct to Earth. Could all passengers for this flight proceed immediately to Martian Lounge 3. Thank you for your kind attention and we hope you have a safe flight. You will be missed!"

Seven months later...

So I inhabit the quaint hamlet of Earth,
Whose streets I have wandered,
Breathed their oxygen,
Felt their dirt and grime in my skin.

**** sapiens are pitiful organisms
Which are plagued by deficiencies in bottle green pigment.
They are just plain nonsensical and silly
With a passion for rather outlandish hairstyles.
All of us have zero wild hair from where I originate from..
Possessing formidable odours,
Mysterious in their temperaments,
Endless bickering and ticked-off outbursts,
Endeavours to implement their godly theories,
404 Not Found Error.

The females bear a gadget
Identified as a handbag
It ought to be alive
Since it is secured around their necks
And is clutched solidly.
In the event that others investigate
I presume these others desire to set it free.

They must absolutely have deplorable eyesight
As when a number of them are
Stepping down and up a street,
They have a tendency to head straight for each other.
Some of these humans occasionally bump
Into one another and they surprisingly
Accuse themselves and each of them apologises.
Mind-boggling, isn't it?

The majority of them seem to have one hand
Attached to the right or left side of their skull
And chatter to it..
How bizarrely ridiculous!

It really is crazy just how this planet is indeed so gigantic,
And features such an abundance of land,
But yet most of these pathetic creatures,
Will never grant you any without money.
Of course, this is obviously a bit of paper!
You will discover an awful lot food everywhere,
But nevertheless countless **** sapiens go hungry;
Thanks to the worship of this outrageous paper..
They don't permit these flying feathered beings
To ascend the heavens,
Shooting them down nutty humans,
To make shoes and boots and mittens!
They cut down all the big trees,
To construct infinitely more dwellings.

Tick tock, Tick tock..
Where is that mystical melody emanating from?
I felt so faint and dizzy..
That sound..
Then, I spotted a crystal face
With a pair of hands and eye ***** moving right and left
It seemed similar to a bomb and gazed ominously at me,
Did the inexplicable humans plan to eradicate the entire alien population?
Have you no mercy?
O, when shall my spaceship arrive,
And take me away from this perilous planet?

I'm merely a martian exploring this space,
So absurd, so preposterous
Do visit us one day, we will greet you hopeless humans,
And reveal to you the splendid planet we reside in.
Alan McClure Aug 2011
Another numbered summer, over
plans packed away
watches wound
boots back on pavements
lawns forgotten

And the sun apologises
as it rises too late
and the cackling wind
reclaims his domain with a flourish.

Have a good day, boys -
see you at teatime.
bleh Jan 2016
(not a poem i guess but eh)




Space keeps falling to the sides. I try to concentrate, - I mean, I make a token effort every now and again,- but concentration, fixation is always in terms of something external, something I'm not sure I can deal with.  I roll over and go back to sleep.



'Where's the flour?'
'Where you left it.'
'Which is where?'
'On the table. What you want it for anyway?'
'Which table?'
'Haha. The generic maple with the ugly-*** spandrels. What are you making?'
'You think we could afford that? Nah, it's like, faux-pine or some ****. And like muffins.'
'Oh good, there's banan's that need using up'
'No no, like, other muffins. Crumpets and such. Got any golden syrup?'
'I think there's some maple.'
'No, it's like, ply, I swear.'



I haven't moved in days. I need to. He'll come eventually and I don't want him to see me like this. Plus, I need to locate that smell. I can't have guests over with it here. I'm just not sure where it is though. I  feel like it's on my left arm when I’m in the middle of the room, but off to the right everywhere else. It's.. acerbic, but fermenting, like vegetables on the onset of rot but not quite there yet. Not that I know; I haven't moved in days. I don't want to smell it again. Also garlic, definitely garlic.



We visited the inland sea the other day. The hundred years since last time hadn't changed it one bit. The beached clay was brittle under the midday sun, and the cracking footsteps fragmented it into a hundred hexagons.
               'I hear a strain of the pathogen is airborne. It's only a matter of time now'
A group of tourists park up by the shore. A child holds out their arms and runs in small circles.



The corridor keeps flashing. And maybe spinning. It's hard to tell, the colour change starts at a different point each time and there's no discernible rhythm to it. You keep pacing up and down. I feel self conscious that you want to leave, but then again, you did show up unannounced. You shake the snowglobe disinterestedly. The fragments burn like molten static.
'Stop that. I feel like I’m vomiting spiders.'
'You're being dramatic.'
'None the less.'
'Don't worry; you'll get through it. The world is transitioning, and this is just motion sickness.'
'I know that, I didn't say I was worried, I said I wanted it to stop.'

'sorry'



We'd always go for a walk at night if we felt we needed to talk. It was an unwritten rule. The veil of amber filter let our more timid thoughts breath in the nebulous darkness. Stark daylight was always too suffocatingly real, and that was the one thing we were never allowed to be; real. You'd always talk superficially if we discussed personal matters. That day you did a one-third spin clockwise and faced my side, and talked grandeloquently, hammed up like on a stage. You gave an embarrassed smile and blew a kiss for the invisible audience. I always felt jealous of those nothings, those non-existent beings, that got to figure into your world.



'Christ it's warm today. I can't think.'
'so don't bother.'
I spin in the chair. Whooosh. Whooosh.



It's the end of a 6 hour shift. A customer, a mother in her odd thirties, was angry that a sale item was out of stock, like sale items always are: She'd only gone out of her way to shop at this store because of the advertised deal, and we had taken time out of her busy schedule under false pretence. Her child stared at the ground intensely, his eyes watering. I tried to imagine the situation through his eyes, to try and ground myself; to remain both present, but stable. She insisted on speaking to the manager. It's a relief really; He's a skeevy ****, but he at least knows when the customers are just there to start ****, and responds accordingly. He comes over, asks what the problem is. It turns out I entered the code wrong and the item was still available after all. He gets one from out the back, handles the transaction, says have a nice day and apologises for me and everything, and I just stand there blankly; I’d had the graveyard shift the night before and honestly I’m beyond feeling right now, but when she mutters 'dumb *****' as she turns away a tight feeling still twists in my gut anyway.
I come home and leave the door hanging open framed in the setting sun and just drop my bags in the hallway. You're in the kitchen, hunched over a workbench eating out of a mug.
'Whatcha having?'
'Cornflakes.'
'….Cornflakes?'
'Yep.' you pivot as I approach. 'corn..flakes.' you hold out the packet.
'coooornfllllakkkkkkkeeeessssss' I start laughing.
'coooornfllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakes'
we chorus the term in groaning monotone, and I grab the packet out your hand and throw it down and violently stomp it into the ground with every non-energy I have left. You just laugh and egg me on, repeating 'cornflakes! Cornflakes!' in crescendo, ostinato. The satisfaction of each crunch gives me the drive to smash them further, and corn dust spills out of the pulverised cardboard and gets everywhere. In the end I’m panting, my face is a mess of tears, and I collapse over onto it and just roll, bathing in the glorious fragments of reconstituted mulch.



'They say another ice age is coming.'
'They also say we'll be swallowed by the sun'
'well, it's true.'
'Yeah, but which'll happen first? I need to know to dress accordingly.'
'Tunnel's up ahead'
'I know, I see it.'
I deliberately swerve to the side and speed up, changing back at the last moment.
'You know I hate it when you do that.'
'What, don't you wanna die together with me? Here and now? Immortalised, as if our existences actually meant something?'
'like Diana and the nameless chauffeur?'
'******* exactly.'
We step out onto the hill, frozen **** tufts breaking underfoot. It's cold as hell but the skies glittering. You get out the telescope you borrowed off your rich *** sister.
'I think that's Jupiter over there.'
'Pfft, Jupiter.'
'What?'
'What's the blankest space you can find?'
'Hmm.. that way?'
You point it in that direction. 'Look'
I stare into it, but it's hard to keep focus while shaking from the cold. You keep adjusting and asking ,’See anything?', eventually some hazy distortion comes into view.
'See, no matter where you look, there's always something there.' You're trying to sound eloquent. 'Even when it seems like you're drowning in nothing.'
I stand back. 'That's terrifying. I feel sick.' I try to breathe but it's shaky and shallow. I stare into the ground, but I can still feel it; the blaze of the myriad innumerable heavens burn into me. Their judging gaze pierces through me and tears me to shreds.  



'You know, I think I read that Spinoza thought that consciousness is manifest in the ability of finite beings to continue persisting in and of their own will over time.'
'Doesn't that make a toaster more conscious than us?'
'Yeah, you don't say.'



We were twelve and at the department store. It was strange. I'd never taken the bus by myself to just hang out in town before. I always feel disorientated and light-headed in crowds so it had a strangeness; waves of apprehension cushioned by the homogeneity of it. one can be truly alone in a crowd; floating in a sea of otherness, where each gaze is no longer a signification of anything, but a warm static. We were among the aisles of a department store, in the toys and tacky house ornament section. Like, the junk you buy children and grandparents for their birthday. **** that you'd only attribute to people whom have no discernible qualities of their own. We were looking at snow globes. We kept trying to shake them violently enough so that the scene framed within would become entirely lost to the fog; it always felt so disappointing when clarity returned and things re-became what they were. I remember saying, 'I wonder if it tastes like real snow', I don't remember, It was stupid, I don't know why I said it, it sounded cool in my head. But you responded, that I remember, by taking the thing and smashing it against the concrete floor, and pouring out all the fragments into our hands. We tried them together and coughed and choked in laugher. It tasted awful, entirely unsurprisingly. On a rush you stuck one in your pocket, grabbed my hand, and we promptly left the store, and my heart was palpitating, it felt like all the rules, all the natural laws that had prefigured my world were crumbling, and I was terrified, trapped in the gaze of my mothers look of disappointment when we'd be inevitably caught, somehow watching me from its potential future, and I'd no longer be allowed to visit you but it was okay because I was here with you now in this moment and we were alone in this faceless mechanical place crumbling around us, and when we left, and no sirens buzzed, I felt sick with excitement at the unbounded possibility present in everything in every second. I cringe thinking back on it, and feel ashamed at finding such meaning, feeling such unabashed wholesale virtue in indiscriminate destruction, but sometimes, sometimes I still shake that snowglobe as hard as I can, till everything determinate is lost in haze, and I still feel a wave of comfort wash over me.



‘We’ve been walking for ages. you know where we’re going, right?’
‘It’s just up ahead. I swear’
‘You swear?’

‘I mean, I’ve only been there once before myself.’
‘****. This way?’
‘Wait-‘
‘What?’
‘Huh. Nothing. Sorry, I thought I heard a car coming.’


‘I think that’s the ocean?’
‘But.. aren’t we heading inland?’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I swear.’



We're in your room. Your reading on your bed and I'm in the swivelly chair by the desk, pretending to work, but really we're just chatting, talking about.. something. Whatever. It was probably stupid, laughing at our own jokes, as always, catchphrases repeated till they loose all meaning. It's been a long day and honestly we're both too tired for coherence by this point, but the lack of effort lends the air an easy comfortability. But then suddenly.. Suddenly you stare into my eyes as if you're looking at me and it's somehow different, an intense gaze that I can't escape, as if you somehow found something located there, something fixed in those abyssal pupils. The feeling is overwhelming and terrifying. I am grounded, ripped into the prison of being and frozen static like a dumb animal transfixed in headlights: I am outside myself facing in, and I’m falling away. I pull you in and kiss you to escape; now, it is your touch that is fixed, your smell, your taste, and I breath a sigh of reprieve. You hold my back as I fall into you. I lace my fingers through the buttons in your shirt and feel the faint pulse of your flickering heartbeat. At once an ever-changing epiphenomena, and a calming rhythmic certainty. I vacantly tug at the buttons and your expression changes, gone is the feeling of suffocating questioning, but one of transfixed observation. Your touch is not a reaching out into something, but a continuation of yourself; I am an instrument of your lust, an extension. Holding me in your arm, you nervously run your hand down from my nape and trace my bra from the strap over the line of my breast. The lightness of your touch is a painful tickling and I push myself into you further, my thighs wrapping around yours. Your touch shoots a burning into me, not painful, but like glowing kindling, or the warmth of a blanket; an immanence, a retreat. I let my mind go blank and we continue; you fumble with my bra as I fumble with your belt. We're both shaking but too far gone to notice, too distant to care. The dry freeze of the night air contrasts your damp heat. You clasp me as you trace your hand under my skirt and I feel your arm brush my thigh. I tremble slightly at the sharp coldness of the damp cotton coming unstuck. After a stretching moment of awkward liminality, I feel you pass into me. It's a burning smoothness, distilled liquor. The rubber is an alien feeling, and for some reason I imagine myself as a giant balloon; a malleable featureless surface, filled with emptiness. I feel myself through the threshold of your presence and I am afraid; I am a boundary which encompasses nothing, and by your passing through I fear that I will be pierced; I will burst and out will flow an obsidian wind that will wither you to nothing, but it will keep coming, an endless torrent that will subsume the world and turn everything to desert, and the only way to save you is to keep it bound up as tight as I possibly can till my heart feels like burning metal, and I feel my tears land on my hand tightly clasping your shoulder. You ask through wavering breaths if I want to stop, but I shake my head; if you left now I would be caught and torn open; no, instead I subsume your undulations into myself; till the rhythm is as oceanic noise; a surface rolling located miles above a lightless motionless centre.



The pale green lamplight flickers. A nausea, tepid, but understated. The sentience of moss; an almost motionless drone, but the sense of unfolding. The corridor seems larger than it once was. Blank reflections harrowing accusations, mechanically indifferent but piercing; an alarm clocks wail. I lie still, I lie still. The buzzing repeats. I lie still. I am flowing, seeping through floorboards into the pores of the earth, into colonies of worms and I am lost and free, a motion, a multiplicity, pure form without the anxious drudgery of parts; pure alimentary canal, pure Elysium absolution. The flickering quickens and gets brighter. A pulsating light, a strobe, a beat frequency wavering behind vision. The liquid earth, saturated by light, hardens and dissolves. And 'I' am lost among the ruins, a vague memory of a sentiment. A nostalgic grief, an asphyxiated longing. I reach out to you desperately in the drag of the undertow, but you are the chalk of faded bones; cast to the winds centuries prior. A thousand years pass of blanket darkness, and a unitary bell rings. The flotsam batters against the temple gates. Debris collects in cracks, and my pieces are among them. I cling to retention, and return. I am cold sweat outlining the floorboards, the feeling of clenching before vomiting, repeated endlessly.



A few weeks after, turning off an avenue onto the main road, I see you. You're crossing, coming this way. It was bound to happen eventually. I bite back the moisture forming in my eyes and try to remain faceless. You suddenly change your trajectory, and hit the side of a car. It honks at you and you dodge around it. I allow a bitter smile to myself; the fact I can cause you such disorientating discomfit indicates I still mean something to you. Even if it's just a discomforting anxiousness, something beyond the boundary to be avoided, I have causal powers, extension; I can see my flicker of presence in you even now, even if I cannot for the life of me find it within myself. You run around and I walk straight. It's empowering; I can remain fixed, even if the torrent of the world flows around me. At that moment, I feel the indubitable strength to persevere. I am stronger than this world; I am stronger than you. But then, just as suddenly, the feeling folds upon itself and is gone. I felt solidified, just now, by the fact that I was the one that remained in this random encounter. I won, you lost. but Won how? With the ability to pretend that I can exist alone, in a world that means nothing to me? The ability to maintain a solid spectral façade, when underneath, scratching away under the skin, I contain nothing? To continue terrifies me. Knowing that I have the strength to continue terrifies me. That last thing I ever intended was to outlive you. I feel the world drain away from me, and yet I remain, left standing, alone, in a of realm of perpetual nothing.  



I feel sick

a hundred years pass in the cavity of the desert. Merchants make trade off raided materials and makeshift weapons. A library is burned. A soldier, wanders freely. An insect buzzes around his face. He darts about the place in annoyance, but it remains. He can't shake it. He closes his eyes. It's still there

I feel sick

the sun burns bright arrhythmic  clicking.  A late twenties couple go clothes shopping, however the child is hungry and will have none of it. Lunch is suggested. They are jocular about the decision, but feel an uneasiness about the indulgence. The air is saturated and dries
.


Collecting the years like a lazy butterfly
caught in the mouth of a lost time infested net.
Columbian Crush!

Where it never rains love nor money. ***** clothes,
***** hands, and
***** minds fill man's hole. Singing shotgun,
bottom feeder's cameras sling the dirt
and shoot the moon.
Wild childrens' vines still swing.

Will anyone here be voting next Thursday?

Remind me why time was killed,
so brutally gunned down in broad daylight.
He apologises as he secretly scratches her name
from his little black book.

Bartender,
another shot of Columbian Crush
on the rocks...
Rohit Deshmukh Sep 2012
Apologises not tendered as ego comes in, Makes me weak when I think, Nothing wrong but I feel guilt comes ,Why the question delivers me to do, Thoughts erupt in the storm why the things happen so. Now at once I feel I wont be weak if the apology plead guilt, Nothing wrong in you but the egos clash in the mind .
Why me why me asks the mind ,Not so far in the life moves the memories, The dark side of night Slowly the things move on without making a change Again I am weak to as the apology will come from me Every time I repent on making me feel like in it. I give a chance to myself to see the truth but again the shortness of life comes in the mind.my apology it  ,reflection is my mind the shortcomings in life, sorry I say again to me ,who makes me weak, the question comes again why me why me, thunder the storm ends with peace, memories those make me weak. Lets walk says the way comes the hurdle  in between myself and me. Apologies not tendered as ego comes in.
a Nov 2015
city of love painted crimson but not
for the passion and hope but
for the blood staining the streets
in unworthy unbelonging abode.
and i'm sorry. there is a place inside
me that aches and screams and yearns
and apologises.
those who committed these acts of
****** are not muslims as they so
proudly call themselves, there is only
one word for this type of man and it is
murderer.
im so sorry
In a relaxed mood,
I decide to walk around the hood,
I come across a handsome looking dude,
And I'm like whoa!his lips seem tasty haha almost like my favorite food,
He says hi to me in a flirty tone then apologises just incase he sounded rude,
He got my number and hopefully that's a prelude..
Rohit Deshmukh Sep 2012
Apologises not tendered as ego comes in, Makes me weak when I think, Nothing wrong but I feel guilt comes ,Why the question delivers me to do, Thoughts erupt in the storm why the things happen so. Now at once I feel I wont be weak if the apology plead guilt, Nothing wrong in you but the egos clash in the mind .
Why me why me asks the mind ,Not so far in the life moves the memories, The dark side of night Slowly the things move on without making a change Again I am weak to as the apology will come from me Every time I repent on making me feel like in it. I give a chance to myself to see the truth but again the shortness of life comes in the mind.my apology it  ,reflection is my mind the shortcomings in life, sorry I say again to me ,who makes me weak, the question comes again why me why me, thunder the storm ends with peace, memories those make me weak. Lets walk says the way comes the hurdle  in between myself and me. Apologies not tendered as ego comes in.
Terry Collett Nov 2013
There is that failure of communication,
At least of that soft civilized kind, the
Type that doesn’t involve blackened eyes

And broken teeth and bruises like fallen
Apples. She tries to hide her face behind
Her scarf, pulls up the collar of her coat

To conceal the bruises to her throat, pulls
The sleeves down to cover up discoloured
Arms and long skirts to mask the beaten

Thighs from her neighbours prying eyes.
He is full of jackshit and self-pity and
Mopes and sulks and blames her for the

Messy house, the kids crying, the bills high,
His fists flying. Unconditional love is the
Only real love, her mother said, lecturing

To her on her wedding eve, pushing the
Rosary beads between fingers and thumb.
Nights he doesn’t come home are best, she

Can sleep and unwind and rest. Even the kids
Can feel the peaceful air when he isn’t there.
His apologises are fake notes, they bring her

Nothing, reveal nothing, cast false hopes like
Wasted seeds, open up the pretending dreams
That life is always better than it is or seems.
Composed in 2010. Few things make me angry such as abuse of children and women.
Simon Clark Aug 2012
A great, imposing figure,
Casting a shadow over the land,
As it reaches to the heavenly sky,
And its rumbles are felt like the rhythm of a band,
Its angry colours dancing like petals in the wind,
Deep orange and flaming red,
Black fire valleys giving predatory heat,
People stand in awe or tremble in their beds,
Devastation is caused and the sky is clouded,
As the rivers of fear flow nearer, so near,
See the birds fly high and away from the ominous glow,
As Mother Nature apologises and sheds a silent tear.
written in 2009
Rob Rutledge Jan 23
The Sun was late today,
Claims she was stuck in traffic,
Surrounded by clouds that
Would not give way.
She apologises nonetheless,
For any inconvenience caused
The delays and/or distress.

I suspect she simply overslept.
Based on the smell of ethanol,
Cigarettes upon the breath.
Half popped packs of paracetamol
Left discarded on the desk.
The good mornings softly spoken
That shows the will is bent,
Not broken.
Ignoring token take out coffee
Cups of renewable confessions.

It's quite the sight to see,
The one that's always early
Arriving this time dishevelled,
Disoriented, unsettled.
She stumbles through yawns
Stretching out the groans of dawn.
Still she manages a smile.
So the world begins to brighten
At least for a little while.
Stevie Ray Aug 2014
When you first come to this place, you would probably forget where you are heading. Golden Gates, clear blue sky, laughter. Birds flying way up high. A kind man greets you with a smile. His bright blue eyes sparkle a bit and he tells you, you can enter. You step through the gates and  there's an Angel waiting for you. The experience and sheer aura of this Angel makes you slightly bow down you head as you witness purity itself. Only then can you imagine what it must be like to meet Him. Because no matter how you look at it there can't be someone more pure than Him. He greets you with a warm smile. His eyes shed a faint pure light. His halo made of white pure light, a beacon you now know was there when it was dark. Mezmerized, almost smitten you just stand there, realising how small you are. The Angel calls you by a name you don't recognise and he noticed it. The fear you feel of telling him what your real name is, is almost to great to bear. To stand up against such a higher existence, a being probably thousands of years old and still so young. When you're about to stand up for yourself, taken a moment to gather the courage, he apologises and says that he calls you by your Soulname. He explains that you lived nearly as long as he did and that every soul here has a name of it's own. He also says that it's time to follow him. He guides you to a palace and after a while you enter a room. Inside this room there's a halo shining a bright white light. It draws you in, you don't notice the Angel closing the door behind you. The White light goes out and the first thing you see is the eyes of your new mother.

When you first come to this place you would probably forget where you are heading. At least for some, there's only one place for me to go. Upon witnessing the Golden gates I look both left and right and see the Golden fence stretch infinitely. I look up and see the birds flying, I let my eyes adjust at the distance for a moment. The birds are trying to fly further up, but they can't. Open Air prison is what comes to mind. I walk towards the gates and see Petrus, he greets me. Behind his blue eyes there's a sparkle of madness. He tells me to go on through as I walk past him an Angel greets me. Welcomes me home and calls me Axle. Images flash by of my hundreds of previous lives. Lives where I always stood up for people, always helped them and loved them. I look back at the Angel and greet him. 'It's been a long time Earos'. He tells me to follow him and he guides me to the palace. After walking for a while I enter a room. Inside of this room is a halo shining a pure white light. It instantly moves above my head and with it i've lost my individual way of thinking.

*When you first come to this place you probably forget where you are heading. At least most people would. But not me, no Sir, there's only one place for me to go. As I look at the Golden Gates I'm kind of confused, inside the golden bars I see flames being contained inside them. I look up and see birds flying. I try and look better and I see them flying further upwards. Why would they do that? The birds suddenly dive and increase their speed to the point where they burn to ashes. Suicide? I walk to the gates and see Petrus. He greets me with a grin and whispers 'welcome home brother'. I ignore him and proceed past the gates. An Angel greets me, his eyes pure white. But I can still smell the fear mixed with a bit of sweat. Right before he tries to call my Name I immediatly regain the memories of my past ten lives. Lives filled with ******, madness, abuse,fraud,greed,envy and every other sin and crime I commited. Right before he calls me my name I scream SILENCE! Don't you dare speak my name Axle! I look him right in his eyes, he's silent. Now, take me home. When we enter the palace gates I start to feel strange. Uncomfortable, itchy and sweaty. I enter a room, inside it there's a Halo shining pure white light. When it moves over my head I grab it and smash it on the floor. The lights go out, pure darkness envelops me. The first thing I see is a throne with a man sitting on it. I look around and all I see is wasteland burning, broken buildings, cruficixes burning. The man welcomes me leans forward and says the following: Zacharias or Zac, good that you're here. I've been waiting for ten years to meet you, to meet the Left hand of God. With these words spoken the rest of my memories unlock, a time of where I was an Angel. Suddenly forced back into the world of living only to commit sin and ******. I'm shocked and take a step back. Lucifer says he has an explanation for what happened. Ten years ago, right after I got sent back a few Angels managed to seal God in his room using unholy methods found in lost and sealed chapters of the Bible from Hell. Lucifer explains that he made me commit sin for ten lives in order for me to get in Hell and escape their trap. He asks me for help because sealing his Archenemy upset the balance of the passing of Souls. And it's something that needs to be rectified. I agree to help him and with agreeing an Old War has resurfaced.
Cari Hannaford Sep 2016
8 years old
We're told "you're too young to unlearn how to smile and hate the world"

8 years from now on
You'll forget the art of care freeness
and little girls

So 6 young hearts
Kick start
And venture into
A labyrinth
Of question marks

Mischievous
Wide-eyed
We had nothing to hide
Our smiles were bonafide...

We dreamed of superpowers
Meteor showers
Climbing towers
Magic, meremaids
Flying ships
And finding home

In our unlock golden coffer
All we had was love to offer
A currency that once was just enough....
Guess we grew up

Theses days
We've ceased
To give
A frail and feeble ****
We've got new better plans

Crystal clear
Each year
Since June of 2010
We've grown cavalier
And bland

We used to dance in rainstorms
Fight our battles, win the whole world
We spoke in flames
And held hands while we burn

Now all we ever do is *****
Apathy, we mop it
With apologises  
I'm sorry's
I worry..... I worry,
We grew up

Things have changed
And minds have aged

We're so far in this infeasible maze

When did black and white decide
To propagate
Cause everything now seems so.... Gray

We've forgotten the beats of our own drums
We've lost touch in tunes we used to hum
We smell of sin

And no longer bubblegum
Our season is yet to come

We're houses with water stained walls
We're standing
But no longer tall
When did we stop having a ball, I don't recall
I don't re-call

Here... We are
So far
We've walked a lonely road
We're like nomads finding home

But some-where far inside
The 8 year old resides
Whispering "you'll be alright"

So let us live
Let live
Forgive and hope we don't
Fail the souls we used to know

Let's walk each other home
Little souls please don't let go
The unknown is ours to roam
Our little souls will walks us
Home
lee Apr 2014
I often find myself looking at my skin and I think about you,, I think about so many things like the way you made it feel with words - but also with your body. About how you made me feel comfortable in it and how sometimes I wanted to peel myself out of it because it was never going to be enough for you and Im sorry about that I wanted to be better but I couldn’t and now we’re over and I’m sorry.

I know you always hated apologises and this isn’t one and it ought to be and I’m sorry its not\

earlier in the morning light that either renews me or ruins me I wrote something on myself for you, I’m not sure why I inscribed it on my body that you will never touch again both because why would you want to and I wouldn’t let you, but I did, so, you should know (more because I can’t stand keeping it to myself when its meant for you)

My heart (scar) doesn’t need (scar) you.
You never helped it
bloom. Now I’m stuck
scrawling (bruise) stories on my skin to cover scars
that I made, but you left.

everything sounds pretentious when you read over it especially when its written in ink on such an ugly canvas and I’m sorry. I miss you even though you don’t feel the same.




//ale a
there is no strikethrough configured on this website yet so the italics represent this
Adam Burke Jun 2014
A girl has bright eyes, smooth thighs and a perky disguise.
She's been shy and never made much of a try but no word of a lie she loved a man long before she was of age to die.

A girl had long hair with tints of blue.
She wore a dress a man couldn't nearly see through but a man needed no clue as to what lay under the zip he desired so badly to undo.

A man was nothing special.
He in no way had it all.
Dark hair and he stood six feet tall but when it came to a girl he would repeatedly stall.
Never sure what to say should he pluck up the courage and call.

A girl knew she was under the view of a man.
It wasn't entirely new but this strange sensation grew as if she just now felt it too.
Not sure what to do when a man leaned in she withdrew.

A girl began to cry upon the sight of his failed try.
In the midst of confusion a solution arrived when she spied the edge of a knife and a vein which so diligently pumped her life.

A man kissed a girl in a Christmas ball, drunk as high hell and stumbling though he didn't fall.
She whispered "I love you too" only half way through removing her shoe when a man lifted her against the wall, too eager to merely watch the remainder of the clothing removal.

A girl was surprised by a man's advance.
She often scried a  future in which a knot had been tied.
A man treated her as a precious doll, protecting her from the demon's who'd call.
A girl enjoyed this time and began to find she could unwind, however, the knife and a vision of a man's advance kept clinging to her mind.

Only a few weeks later a man lies with a girl.
A girl begins to cry.
A man apologises.
A man and a girl remain together.
A man loves a girl.
A girl loves a man.
And a girl is suicidally sad.
Midnight apologises, but it has to arrive
some of us die
some will realise that to survive is not the be all of the end all.

Meanwhile the charity ball and the tickets sold
fold under the midnight sky.

I never know and I never know why
these things occur to me as time padded and passes me by.

It could be fantasy for a fool has many of those?
close one door another appears as you blink through the tears that flow,



do you care for any of this?

did the stars burn that kiss on your lips and pretend to be me?

six points

I have an untied galaxy destroying me
turning me into dust on the shelf.

And I'm punching my weight against time.

Any difference is only a difference or diffidence that you see

I am and have been sadly or not me.

I don't apologise
midnight shines not
in my eyes
I see
only
the summer.
hlakaniphile Jan 2015
It all started when I was a little girl.
I trusted everyone execpt the strangers that my mom would warn me about.
But when you walked in you were never stranger I knew you she did too.
But you turned into a monster.
Confused I was left how the hell does a person you supposed to trust end up doing what your mom said the "strangers" would do.
One of this days I remember sitting in my room listening to music you got in closed and I heard I ran to take your bag realised something  in your face it changed it was like you were something else.
It was funny cause her faced changed too my mom.
Confused but ignored it took the bag and went back to my room.
Three minutes after she screams
I ran out to see I so you hitting her kicking as you kicked I so crying.
As she stood up she smiled and said don't worry my girl go back to you room.
Confused I went back to my room.
But I was sitting it all made sense he spit words I hear them she spit I hear them.
She asks he anwers but everytime he does he says thing that are unbearable and she apologises for him.
I thought it was crazy.
Days and days passed he did everyday hit her her skin was torn she looked like a woman that never looked beautiful.
I remember crying so much I started to cry but I didn't wanna show her.


And one day he decides to leave without a reason.
He left us 
                   Broken
                       Wreked
                                 Hateful
                                             Angry
                                            Sad
                ­            Paranoid

He ruined me ...

Know I'm scared to trust anyone since my "friend" became monster
#sad #friend #betrayal
So many times people change and things they do scares you
Joanne Heraghty Sep 2016
You were angry when you turned on your heel.
The fight was over and you were walking away.
It was just then she called out for you to "wait!",
One single thing you never expected she'd say.
You dare not face her,
Just in case she sees,
The tears that are swelling in your eyes,
And the shake that possesses your knees.
She opens up and she admits
How your last words cut her deep.
She thinks of how you want no more than friendship,
Each night while she cannot sleep.
She apologises repeatedly,
The words pour straight out from her heart.
She regrets the way that she left you,
And wishes ye had not grown apart.
Anger fills up fast inside you,
And makes it's way right to your mouth.
You ask her why she won't just let go.
She's taken aback by your shout.
Then, just as a child would,
She mumbles when she says:
It was fear that made her leave you,
And she'll regret it for the rest of her days.
You find this preposterous!
Why on Earth would she be scared?
"When" and "why" you then ask her,
And that's when she confesses she cared.
She wanted more than what you were to her.
She was searching for a soul mate,
Who would stand by her forever,
And face with her, her fate.
Your face changes when she says how
It was not a mutual thought.
You wanted nothing that she did,
And this hurt a lot.
So she explains how she left you,
Just before it was too late,
And adds that she is sorry
She has made such a state.
You are reluctant to believe her;
For how could her words be true?
She fell right into another's arms,
The second she left you!
And you speak of this disbelief,
You display all the anger you feel.
You empty your heart of it's agony,
As it's a wound you can no longer seal.
It's then she tells you she was foolish,
She believed these were feelings she could grow.
But this was a void that could not be filled by just anyone,
And there's something you must know.
As ye lock eyes for a single moment,
You cannot believe the words she has just said.
"I was wrong" she admits into the silence..
Or was that all just in your head?
22nd August 2016 // Day #31
Soumya Inavilli Feb 2020
These days ‘I love you’ sounds different.
It hides in the good morning texts with
a sleepy smile and asks me to eat on time.

It holds my hand tightly when
I am nervous and shaking, to
tell me that I am bigger than my fears.

There it lurks behind all those
times when my feelings and thoughts are
understood and acknowledged without judgement.

It remembers the biggest of my worries,
celebrates the smallest of my wins too
and is with me in every prayer offered in my name.

Through all the pain and sadness, it wipes my
tears promptly and lets me know that I am not
alone and that we will go through this together.

It disguises as another three words I
need to hear whenever my spirits are low
and whispers in a firm voice, “you are enough!”

To me that wasn’t so apparent.
So it comes again in the noon and leaves
a reminder to drink some water soon.

It breathes life into the countless promises
made to stand by me no matter what and
daily mentions without fail that I’m not naught.

Then it suddenly takes me into its arms and
like the mighty sun on a chilly winter day, spreads
the kind of warmth that I have always craved for.

It walks next to me, slowly, like my shadow
and says I have to believe in myself more
than anything else, even when there is no hope.

Time and again it surfaces in the form of
honesty and truth, builds trust and confidence
between us and holds our world from falling apart.

It sits in front of me and apologises for everything
done wrong, works on what could have been right
and strives to be better with every passing day.

These days ‘I love you’ sounds different.
Everyday it returns home in the night
and chides me to go to bed early.

It will always be more than just those three
words and from now on, I will pay attention
and show how grateful I am that it exists.
Colin E Havard Mar 2014
I've been rabbiting on...
What were you going to say...?
Ah, huh...
Interesting...
Is that so...?
Well, I never!
Oh, my!
Really? That's magnificent! Awesome!
You don't say?!?
My apologises --> I spaced out --> You were saying...?


Bonus After-thoughts -->

Your Voice -->
I don't really care what you say,
I just love your Accent!

Fancy...a chat sometime?
No promises -->
If not now...later?
2/3/2014
8 of 8 (Yellow), Huntsbury Hotel, Petersham
Sombro Oct 2017
She lines herself before me, eyes halting her gait like a rod rid of bait
Trotting her feet again in my way, not perturbed or frightened by me

The churning distress tongues speak about us on the whiteboard each week
Is finally bringing us together, her delicate neck craned ****-eyed

Tip-toe though your feet are crashing, and all pretense of slicing your eyes at me is mashing
But I play her game and look up at the ceiling, red blouse she's got on like honey

Her body pours over, spilling a little as her foot twitches too far and she jabs my leg accidentally hard
I'm forced to look over, that cunning smile done up like hair, you

I meet her, she smiles, she apologises, I smile and nod, saying it's ok, because it is for a while
But when she glides on by I'm angry that her mistake wasn't falling into my useful lap

Like wardrums, that sound, footsteps echoing deep bass-like from the ground
And soaking my skin in flannel bravery and horror at what I can see

Her walking away from me, until next week, the dancing meek kittens
Ashamed to make mouths say what eyes can only guess at

'Hello, how are you, would you like to know my name?'
'Not really for I learnt it long ago, but tell me just the same'
glances in the lecture halls
The Flipped Word Mar 2017
She called last night
After months of radio silence

The first ring
Why? why was she calling?
Did she need anything?
that's why she'd usually called earlier
Did she even deserve my help?
She was the one who stopped
Stopped talking stopped calling stopped sharing
Nothing. just nothing.
like I was nothing
like we'd been nothing

The second ring
Why the hell was she calling?
how dare she?
I should just pick up and scream my head off
hurt her with my voice as much as she hurt me with her silence
or I just shouldn't pick up at all

the third ring
What's the whole point?
She'll listen to my rant with manufactured concern
and when I have bled everything out
when my bones have been robbed of the anger that galvanised them
she'll crumble these bones to dust
with a 'sorry'
and it will start all over again

the fourth ring
Maybe it could start again
once she apologises, we can talk
I won't be emotional, I promise
I will be cool, more detached
it's just fun to talk to her
I just won't have any expectations

the fifth ring
It could work this time..
I mean, this plan didn't work the last time she came back
Or the time before that when she returned
Ugh maybe I should just let it ring.

the sixth ring
You know what I'll pick it up
I can do this
I'll just find what she wants
It'll be okay

*My hands reach out, trembling
About to click on that green button
And the phone stops ringing.
Raiven Everett Jun 2018
In these times
i believed so distant
to be non-existent
i dread life

i say i love him 
making him my life 
sounds so cliche 

i wish i could say such at this moment 
i was so sure
it feels so far 
that first time we smiled 
though many miles apart 
i believed him to be my life 
feeling his light so near 
as an embrace of my lover 

these times are the keys
to the locked part of my mind 
the ones i enter 
and see all the photos of my memories

the room of grief 
upon agony as my tears swell up
as everything i believed in comes to mind 
and crashing like the ocean tide back at me 
not to embrace me 
with such light anymore 

i feel like ive gone in a circle ive always seen
i want to trust 
yet i remain crying 
upon this room 
i want to be free 
but i cant move....

my eyes submerged into the photos of my memories
my father getting stabbed...
my grandfather dying 
seeing things others find nuts
being put through abuse of life 
and father 

i begin to wonder why am i alive
as the rooms shift 
a blank white wall
all too normal to belief 
yet all i can do stare

hospital 
the word that comes to mind 
taints my eyes as the white becomes
a blinding light 
and a hospital bed is all i see
staring down at my hands all i can see is my heros hand
cold 

insanity takes grasp once more 
as it shows me like a lost puppy 
the direction
as another who i believed in 
but died...
all i felt was fear as my wrists became scarred 
and a knife dug into my back

i lie there 
pondering if i wanted to truly die
and if i still do 
as reality comes back
among my sight restored
to the white ceiling of my room
i see blood splattered on my room 
and believe such to be true in due time

if this fears you 
brings to tears or anger 
my apologises 
as this is written as feelings of my reality

trying to understand me is to accept this 
to realize what i see is glitter and rainbows
to see i am scared
and not to disappear 
to love me is to be the guiding hand 
to be near me you must see 
i am much weaker 
than put out to be

if such is not alright my apologises
as my silence will be 
as a probability of fear 
my words become of distant memory 
as many 
disappear
with this i must say goodbye as the belief 
in my mind 
is to speak it 
but the walls block such 
as once be stated 
love me as me 
then further to understand me 
will be soon of greater truth
Raiven Everett Jun 2018
eminds me of _   Learn commenting

[ Titleless ]

In these times
i believed so distant
to be non-existent
i dread life

i say i love him 
making him my life 
sounds so cliche 

i wish i could say such at this moment 
i was so sure
it feels so far 
that first time we smiled 
though many miles apart 
i believed him to be my life 
feeling his light so near 
as an embrace of my lover 

these times are the keys
to the locked part of my mind 
the ones i enter 
and see all the photos of my memories

the room of grief 
upon agony as my tears swell up
as everything i believed in comes to mind 
and crashing like the ocean tide back at me 
not to embrace me 
with such light anymore 

i feel like ive gone in a circle ive always seen
i want to trust 
yet i remain crying 
upon this room 
i want to be free 
but i cant move....

my eyes submerged into the photos of my memories
my father getting stabbed...
my grandfather dying 
seeing things others find nuts
being put through abuse of life 
and father 

i begin to wonder why am i alive
as the rooms shift 
a blank white wall
all too normal to belief 
yet all i can do stare

hospital 
the word that comes to mind 
taints my eyes as the white becomes
a blinding light 
and a hospital bed is all i see
staring down at my hands all i can see is my heros hand
cold 

insanity takes grasp once more 
as it shows me like a lost puppy 
the direction
as another who i believed in 
but died...
all i felt was fear as my wrists became scarred 
and a knife dug into my back

i lie there 
pondering if i wanted to truly die
and if i still do 
as reality comes back
among my sight restored
to the white ceiling of my room
i see blood splattered on my room 
and believe such to be true in due time

if this fears you 
brings to tears or anger 
my apologises 
as this is written as feelings of my reality

trying to understand me is to accept this 
to realize what i see is glitter and rainbows
to see i am scared
and not to disappear 
to love me is to be the guiding hand 
to be near me you must see 
i am much weaker 
than put out to be

if such is not alright my apologises
as my silence will be 
as a probability of fear 
my words become of distant memory 
as many 
disappear
with this i must say goodbye as the belief 
in my mind 
is to speak it 
but the walls block such 
as once be stated 
love me as me 
then further to understand me 
will be soon of greater truth
Starr Anderson Jun 2015
You are the first person
Who hasn't yelled back
Who actually wants to know
Who apologises
Who doesn't start anything

You are the only reason why
I yell and scream
I tell stupid stories
I am sassy beyond all believe
I get us in trouble

And that's why
your not my first
But you'll be my only
Fling wide the curtains
kettle on and set the table
open the door in welcome
spring is just around the corner
she apologises for being late
winter kept her talking
Dave Robertson Mar 2021
The clarity of that light
apologises for the fact the cold
will still shrivel your extremities

Once again
we sit in wait of the first hot pulse
to wake our state

They say it’s coming
but we’ve been (not) burned before
so cautious underwear is worn

But be sure
that ****** foil barbecues will sell
in panicked droves come Monday

— The End —