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B L Jul 2018
In a wakeful contradiction, it lays fact between my fiction,
Tangling subatomics, it unravels as its tricks spin
deeper toward the outward...
                                      it won’t let up, 'til I give in.

Over matter, lay my mind…
I tell a lie to pass the time...
But there’s no reason nor a rhyme --
                                            Less still, a purpose?
I search for something to remind my mind
                     that there’s truth that isn’t worthless…

But as always, failure appears;
                              in a sort-of amnesic continuity.
And my reality lies to my own mind
                              Just as well
                              as it succeeds in its futility.
With destruction as its manifest,
It tells me that I stand my tallest
                              Upon two buckled knees.

And just as faith will find one’s doubt --
                  a search within has left without.
It seems that an answer, once sought out,
                  will be left lacking its question.
My truth divides itself,
                   as a product of infinite misdirection.

I try to substitute a reason for a rhyme.
But with no lies left to pass the time...
                              I swallow a dose of ignorance.
It goes down smoother than the truth.

In a war that started with a truce,
This world betrayed my faith to show me:
                                 that I'm only tall enough
                                 Once I’ve been
                                                         cut
                                                             down
                                                                ­     slowly.

A pill too large to swallow,
                I think I’m choking on myself . . .
Or the irony of asking,
                     “How could I be so careless?”
Here I stand, Barely standing,
                   Consumed almost entirely
By my own dry-heaving self-awareness...

Left to fight the fears that my nightmares create;
I’m still running from my past,
                          yet, haunted by my fate.
They walk beside me always,
                          shadowing wholeheartedly —
Existing as a duality, both apart from,
                         and a part of me.

These ghosts have taught me very little...
                                    Aside from what I hate.
But, I've come to learn not to fear
                                    The forceful hands of fate.
For I shudder not at the thought of destiny,
                                    Or the inevitable in time...
Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices
That were solely, and entirely, mine.

I fear that my will may be of enough influence, alone...
That fate itself may collapse beneath decisions like my own.
Or that I, myself, might be constructing
What destruction I will find
Among my shattered spirits and convictions,
In these depths to which I climb.

Bad Luck: In A Wakeful Contradiction :

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Cynthia Jun 2017
Unexpectedly, like a thief in the night
Depression will come
Anxiety
Anger
Despair will introduce itself
threaten existence,
testing
Faith,
Assaulting the most precious possessions
Leaving behind bitterness
footprints  
in the coldest nights

But none define whose you are

Don’t fight alone.....
Cynthia Aug 2018
You dig a hole in the ground
You keep digging deep down
So the echo won’t slip
because your goal is to scream
Scream loud
to ease the pain inside
 
The dirt on your hands
is the hurt, the pain
You’ve been carrying around
Somehow you kept holding on
now freedom is what you seek

Fading memories is your dream
But what happens after you scream?

You have been carrying this weight
on your feet
feeling the heat
Blood flowing through your veins

Love turned into hate & trust into fear
So after all are you really at PEACE?

Then…
The battle with your mind begins
Because digging is no longer your escape
Your own fear has captured you in a cage
 
So you write it down on paper
Not in pencil but in pen
Because there are no mistakes
That can be erased
What’s done is done
And your shame cannot be wiped away
 
Once again you fight in the flesh
all you want is peace
And a resting place
Yet you seek no one but yourself.
Have no fear for He is with you
Seek Jesus let him be your escape
The one who fulfills that empty SPACE!
Cné Apr 2016
The truth is ...
Life is perfect,
With no problems that conflict.
Though naturally, improvements take effect.

The truth is ...
Nothing needs to be different,
Although everything in moment
Constantly changes and becomes different.

The truth is ...
Nothing is lacking in me.
Every moment is as it should be.
Evolving into what I am, paradoxically.

The truth is...
My life is fragile,
As my body a mere vessel.
Although, I am eternal,
Divine consciousness in spirit.
Although, I am not always aware of it.

The truth is ...
My nature is goodness.
Although that is not always my experience.
God made me always lovable.
These truths are immutable.
Grace Oct 2017
Power in numbers
The ranks of the resilient
For we are not alone
But I wish we were
That to stand aside
Didn't make it your fight

Wish you couldn't fathom
Begin to imagine
A concept so bleak
It'd leave your head spinning

That it would never be too close to home
Wouldn't touch the skin
Decorating your bones

This war being waged
On our shoulder blades
A burden that makes us bend
And re-frame

But never break
For even though it happened
We are still champions
Because what you did does not define us
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
I spent nearly 8 years living in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn. Park Ave. and Broadway. Right across the street from the Sumner Houses section. People died on my block at a rate of one or so a month. 4 different times, I heard the actual shots that I would later learn had taken the lives of people. I heard gun fire and/or screaming on a nearly nightly basis. Daytime was okay. But at night, all bets were off.

In the entire time that I lived there, I walked the streets coming home from the train and bars and even work, as late as 3-4 in the morning. NOT ONCE was I ever accosted or even approached, let alone hurt or robbed.

Aside from the Angel that has apparently been living upon my shoulder for most all of my life ... I accredit this uncanny security to the outward appearance I have been bestowed with. I am a big guy, 6 foot tall, 275 pounds, long curly brown hair, a mustache and soul patch. I have a cocky, confident swagger when I walk, always with my head up and always taking in my surroundings.

I've come to the conclusion that the bad guys take one look at me and then ponder: "Ehhh, let's just wait on the next one."
Johannah Jeanty Oct 2018
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out
Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out
Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real
I am forced to accept these 'realities' and ignore the way I feel

I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate,
For a decade I find that this is how I communicate
The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures
As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate

These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be
It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality
Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see
How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being'

My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions
Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion
Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth
Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat

I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say
I have been observing your mudane human actions, I really don't want to be put away
I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place
But because I'm 'considerate,' I have to bite my tongue to save me some face

I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed
Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest
My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest
They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest

"I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits
I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit.
The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken
The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking

Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am
You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a ****
Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers'
I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever

They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate
Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental
Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith.
I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
Darren Feb 2016
Creeping up, a silent foe,
Breaking him down, nice and slow,
Crushing all his hopes and dreams,
Bravery fading, silent screams,

Fighting on, war and peace,
Just to get, a partial release,
A little confidence, suddenly lost,
One step forwards, the ultimate cost,

Walls built, a safe distance,
Hiding the world, from his existence,
A man in a cave, keeping away,
Building the courage, to battle today,

Invisible injury, a runaway train,
Mental illness, significant pain,
Weakness, it's how it's percieved,
Colleagues find...It hard to believe,

Lack of remorse, absent support,
Pushes him, to obvious thoughts,
Attenion seeking, he was no more,
Discovered today, by local law,

Tears shed, guilt ridden hearts,
Talking history, picking him apart,
Realisation, lack of due care,
Former colleague...

Empty chair

  ----

Trying to find the words to explain the poem. The message is there. Think about your actions to those you see every day. The ones that annoy you, for their quirky behaviour. There is an untold story behind each of us. Some suffer in silence, some try to seek help. Compassion and understanding is within us all. The unseen illness is a killer.
Marla Feb 15
Tempest-tossed and out of bounds,
My youthful vigor marches on.
Exiled thrice on different scales:
First from my homeland,
Then the place I called home,
And now,
What used to be our world.
Why?

Because I'm different.
Not radically so, but just enough
To have me pushed away.
It seems the fascists aren't dead
After all;
They just hide in the people
You love until they come out for-

Forget it;
Thoughts like those don't help.
Me and you have to think
Of ourselves.
Day after day,
We're led on and told we're wrong.
Truth is,
We are the emboldened ones;
Gallant and strong-
The might of light within us all.

So stand tall, my humble friends,
Our call to arms is but a prayer
Cast down to us
For the sobriety of our good nature.

Love is the answer;
For if you love all
As if all loved you,
You'll eventually find that it does.
Bryant Arinos Nov 2018
I want to die.
Please help me,
God help me.
Cause I can't bear this pain anymore.
A person in a brink of nothingness
Stormy Grey Dec 2014
She stared at her thighs,
Tears streaming her face,
Wanting to hide,
In an isolated place.

Fatter and fatter,
They grew and grew,
Before her eyes,
Yet nobody knew.

The pain she felt,
As she watched her reflection,
Searching around her,
Wanting protection.

Her heart starts to bleed,
And her bones start to wither,
Her skin loses colour,
She continues to shiver.

The person inside her,
Causing these thoughts,
Distort her reality,
And need to be caught.

She has an illness,
A serious one too,
So please don't ignore it,
Cause next could be you.

So let's raise awareness,
Of these devils inside,
Let's hunt them down,
Leaving nowhere to hide.

Reach out your hand,
Come on, speak out,
We will beat this together,
Lets scream and shout--

To victory at last!
Its been a long time coming,
So many lost lives,
But we're no longer running.

Stormy
Not one of my best poems... I'm very aware of that. This poem was written for the purpose of awareness as oppose to an expression of emotion. Too many people suffer from mental illness and too many of these cases get ignored. Its time to take a stand.

*PLEASE NOTE* The first few stanzas of this poem may be triggering to vulnerable readers.
Sam Hawkins Jan 2018
With a shift inkling, concepts dropped
and I was all of my true name.

I etched in moving water.

I streamed me--water frozen,
water falling, water drifting
as fog, as cloud.

I was mini-singular
H2O.

My hydrogen rabbit ears
danced five ways,
and oxygen laughed and sang
(what a team!)

Sundried, now as the clock struck noon,
I found my feet and I stood.
I built myself of basaltic rock.

Tower of Babel--polyglot sounding
in cyclic revision spoke some intelligence,
spiral I was.

Inverted, I apt dived down.
I n transition, I grew rounded
hollowing.

I Earth. I Center.
I Sun at Earth Center

where timeless pinpoint passages
did ****** me home again.

O, what strangeness and wonder
in practicing freedoms.

And you, too ~ have experience?

Awareness
good beginning.
Bri Aug 2017
The obsession you have with the size of your hips.
They should be smaller,
Don't you think?
Oh, and be sure to do whatever it takes to have that thigh gap.
It's so worth it.
That thigh gap.
The more space the better.
The emptiness of your body.
The jutting collar bones.
Feeling dizzy.
Feeling depressed.
Worth every inch lost off your waist.
It is worth your once full and lushious hair now falling out like dead leaves.
Because you're dying.
You are killing yourself.
But it's all fine.
You're obsessed with telling yourself that it's all under control.
Isn't it?
Theres no sleep at night.
Not when your anxiety is this intense.
Not when your up planning how to skip the rest of the weeks meals.
Use that time to be productive.
Like right now.
Lying awake... obsessing.
Obsessing.
Obsessing.
But it's s all fine, right?
Because that thigh gap.
And bony fingers.
You're deliriously falling over every **** time you stand, and you think it's all still fine now?
You think it's still worth it?
Isn't it?
Débijonne Oct 2018
but when i said
‘living on the edge,’
this was never
what i meant.

what i meant was real party all night
without parents’ permission;
not a pity party at night
with my self-destructing notions.

what i meant was real rollercoasters,
or go on life adventures;
not roller coasters
of all my life’s emotions.

what i meant was swim in the ocean,
or face my darkest fear.
not an ocean of my
darkest fears face me.

but i when i said
put ‘happy’ and ‘die’ together,
i meant to actually ‘die happy’
not to be ‘happy dying.’
wrote this piece for National Mental Health Week.
Mike Feb 2016
The dog chewed
my Great Expectations,

of all the things to leave on the floor.

Not to say it's out of character

for me or the dog.

It's no surprise
that it happened.
Yet, I'm still left wondering:
What did I expect?
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
Just because it's suggested doesn't make it right.
In the hands of teachers, other staff.
What other purpose could this directly serve.
To defend our institutions.
To further endanger those around.
The knowledge instilled from book to teacher a different practice.
Now holstered, hidden in the drawer of a desk.

What goes through the mind of the victim that's been bullied.

What training can be set in place to stop the next bulletin.

Shooting across the screen.

The kid in 10th grade that carries the weight of the world.

Sitting all day staring out the window.

Mother in hospice.

A fragile thought swallowed by deafening silence.

It no longer becomes a listening session of encouragement.

The after school sessions of comfort sped up.

Another bulletin of hysteria fired across the screen.

Teacher student affair.

15 year old student found with 42 year old man.

When in reality she was seeking help due to a troubled home.

Afraid to sleep knowing the door would creep open.

Leaving her terrified to close her eyes. The relationship between step daughter and father without boundary.


Where's the specialty training for those who care.

The proper resources that extend beyond that of a pamphlet.

The dark skin kids that's made fun of because they look different.

Stereotyped as aggressive.
The dope boys, the baby mamas.

The light skin girl that's made to feel inferior because she turns red with every hit.

Her hair is longer than theirs so she wants to cut it.

Aggressively forgetting all the beauty she possesses.

The active shooter managing to make it pass the metal detectors.

Rallying the attention he didn't get at home.

The debate carries on across every wall except the right ones
Anon Jan 15
Some people,
Unknown to the people around them,
Isolate themselves from the world.
Causing them to have so many thoughts,
Ideas they can't control
Decisions running through their head.
Eventually, they decide it's easier to just, end it.
Not everyone is as happy as they seem
If you'd notice, you could see the way he lost his mind,
shattered on the tile floor he donates to. The coats of bandages
that soaked right through. You can feel the lack thereof in effort;
and I'm not saying you should be the one to save him, or that it's
your fault, all I'm saying is that the signs were there,
and you didn't notice for the sake of "I'm doing better now."
Maybe we become denial, or numb to the stone cold facts in
front of us. We shouldn't side with anger because it's easier;
rather lend a hand to someone lower than us in the hopes
you'll raise the rock-bottom people and awareness that this
effects more than obviously-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!

I feel like we should check up on our friends, and lend a hand, whether they say they're okay or not. Offer help and just a friends,it can do wonders.
Taylor Feb 25
Are you okay?
I reply No
Oh well society says
You don't belong to us
With smooth pale faces
Secrets are hidden among us
Besides you aren't
Enough for our Standards
Sorry you didn't make the cut
You can always apply next year
This is full of metaphors and things representing what society is doing to people. That is something society needs to wake up and realize we are all alike but seperated by our flaws but our flaws shouldn't make us outcasts.
I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing,
But to be honest, I bet it hurt you more, does it sting?
Can you feel it in your bones ?
Copper taste against my tongue,
I’m choking on my own blood,
Does my manic laugh horrify you?
This Cheshire smile plastered across my face,
Do my cheekbones slice your knuckles?

That’s going to leave a bruise,
Not that you care,
Twisted my head back by my hair,
My body is peppered in greens, purples, blues,
But with the way you turn your head down you’d think I was the one abusing you,
When you wrap your meaty fingers around my windpipe does it give you pleasure?
What goes through your mind while your holding my life in your hands,
How many of my ribs have you cracked upon your feet,
Only to lick my thighs later like a treat,
One of these days it’ll be my fingers around your neck,
And I won’t stop squeezing till your dead,
Until then use my body to your hearts content,
This dangerous dance,
Like egg shells beneath my soles,
I’m waiting for you to slip on the blood you painstakingly draw from me blow by blow,
And in your own sick way you actually love me,
Convinced the only way to save me is to hurt me,
But I’m not that sick or twisted to believe the words you croke out,
One day very soon it’ll be you who shouts,
Ya I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing.
If anyone was triggered by the nature of the poem , please accept my apology. Domestic abuse is very serious  and not something I take lightly.  

1 (888) 579-2888

Above is a Canadian victim services hotline.

If your in a bad situation please seek help.
Carter Ginter Mar 2013
Stepping back into my life;
You know as well as I do,
That it's a dangerous move.

Don't play with my head,
Its true, I've began to lower my walls again,
But I can also get hurt once more, greater than I've been.

Everyone deserves a second chance,
But I give it to you in caution;
I can't turn back, on all the progress I've gotten.

So my mind will do it's best,
To make sure my heart stays in line,
And doesn't cross these boundaries, laid so fine.

I question myself,
And question your intent,
Hoping that my next decision doesn't end in regret.

So good luck,
I truly wish you well,
Because this time, I won't be the one who fell.
The 'field of mines' is an analogy for this friendship-ish thing I have with someone.
I know I shouldn't trust her but people can change right? I'm not sure about that one in this case. That's where the 'awareness' comes in. I know not to trust her yet, so I know, theoretically, where to stand in the field of mines until I know it's safe to move forward.
It's ironic that I put it in this analogy because she told me the other day, weeks after I wrote this, the same exact analogy is what she used to explain us.
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