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Alex Gifford Sep 9
What once was fire in your eyes,
is smoldering,
about to die.

What once was fire in your veins,
is spilling out,
it slowly wanes.

Lost in a fog,
Drained of your blood,
Spine feeling soft,
Face in the mud.

Now fan the embers in your eyes,
consume what's left,
by fire baptize.
KiraLili Aug 2016
At the mouth of Big Fork
We dealt with your fear of water
My farm girl doesn't swim like her river man
A two person kayak on a summers day
Quiet was the lake at the mouth of the river
Slow were our strokes as we went
You white knuckled your paddle so tight
As the day went your grip loosened
Your hair always up you let down
The calm water moved into you
Your life on the prairie had none of this
It was all dust and noise and dirt
The career you forged in the city was even louder
In one day I saw waters magic take hold
A stop along a secluded beach to baptize you with a swim
Your face finally without make up softened and smiled
Years of tension flowed down the river
Floating you took in that Montana big sky
Not much was spoken that day
You said it best looking up at the sky
" A girl can breathe out here....."
Big Fork Montana
ryn Mar 2015
Night came and conquered my ceiling
Head tilted back to inherit it's familiar splendour.
But she isn't there... Left my heart slightly gaping.
O twinkly one, have you seen her?

She's mysteriously veiled tonight,
Playfully on her halo, dances gentle light.
Don't give up on her, listless moongazer,
She wants to be conquered, put up a good fight.

Persistent skirmish that sets dreams and reality apart,
Eyes don't see what the heart knows so clear,
Clarity eludes when forgotten scars start to smart,
Do you know if she even realises I'm here?

She knows, and dreams of your happy eyes,
That only her will hold on their feverish gaze.
Unbroken threads of hope, your yearning to baptize
And her ice cold craters to be set ablaze.

Fire in my vessel still burns bright and strong,
Never extinguished behind the facade of my weary husk,
My flame would endure just as the wick is long,
Tell me dear star, will I see her next dusk?

When the sun's swords will seize,
slashing the sky in dazzling blue,
When the air will bring a comforting ease,
Her glistening "yes" will welcome you.

Your comforting words ring only of truth,
Winking in codes, you might be right .
Darkness had claimed and engulfed all proof,
Will you accompany me through tonight?

This piercing question you don't have to ask me,
For even though my light's billion of years away,
Twinkling in your dreams I'll always be,
The night companion, under your moon's ray.

*Dajena M
My third collaboration with Dajena M.
Janelle Tanguin Feb 2017
Before everything

i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.

ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.

iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.

iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.

v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.

vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.

vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.

viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".

ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own ****, bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.

x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Amanda Jean Oct 2016
Long winding
Lost roads
Dead dog
Or maybe mountain lion
(**** roadkill)
Car stopped in the middle of the road
Woman drove off the side of the road
(with the ******* pigs)
Gas station stops
No service area
Keeping me on long winding lost roads!

Now there
Misty fog
Hot steam
As I baptize with bubbles
In this hot tub at Grand Haven
A locked cabin
Enjoyed for a time by myself
I see it in the bathroom mirror,
and on the horizon, coming nearer.
It’s dripping from a dollar bill-
I sell it off but touch some still.
I hear it dripping from my car,
I hear it comes from wells afar,
I see it seeping from a stone
(that monolith we call a phone),
and spilling from our eyes at night
while sirens dance in rays of light.
Now as I shower for an hour,
I feel it filling up a tower
all the way up to the moon.
This tower will come crashing soon.
It is the milk of death and strife,
yet some would say it's the stuff of life.
Some say that it will set you free-
in blood they tried to baptize me.
Esther M Aug 2018
Why do I continue to baptize myself in the forbidden salt water of Love,
I’m drowning in the shallow parts of the ocean as if I’m in the center of the sea
it’s so hard to see,
beyond the horizon of my future if you’re not there with me
Although I know I must leave,
I locked the chain of submission around my neck
and let your poison liquid burn my nostrils fill up my lungs.
I threw away the key,
now I’m drowning in the shallow parts of the ocean as if I’m in the center of the sea
if only I could see,
past this blinding love and force myself to get up,
I’ve mentally given up
I’ve talked to God and he told me what to do but leaving you
my soul just won’t do.
I’ve been shunned by Christ as I hang on the cross for your sins by the nails of confusion, affection and manipulation
I’m in a situation.
A situation-ship,
where my heart is compelled by Christ but
my mind has been left behind in your arms.
I just need to stand up and break the chains lose
that drowns me in your salt water of love,
But the more I stay the salt water no longer consist of you
but are composed of my tears,
dying in my own creation for you.
God I know what to do
but leaving him,
my soul just can’t seem to do.
My heart compelled by Christ but my mind got left behind....
in his arms,
I don’t want to drown anymore
I don’t want to get up either.
BJ Donovan Oct 4
Poets can't keep secrets. We're poets.
     We must express emotion no matter the
     truth or consequence. We spill tears.
     We ask for your heart and soul. We
     scratch blame upon a page like
     ancient scribes with prayers to rain
     upon the unwashed masses and baptize
     you into the church of gracious poets.
A relationship in both eyes
Stormy clouds apace
For love was only a guise
In a two-person rat race

When cloudy conflicts arise
Disharmonies at a trace
It's better and wise
To leave than save a sad face

There was no marriage prise
Or a loving embrace
No figuring out to surmise
The answers the hidden ace

It was up a sleeve-like sunrise
That morning dawn unbrace
You left as the rooster or hen cries
Your vanity lies for saving grace

Your new walks a baptize
A fresh flower in a vase
Blossoming for sunny skies
The vested card a blessing in place

Life is too short to capsize
On someone's null space
The pretense and sad eyes
So go, go, with the blues to replace

Logan Robertson

With every relationship, it's a matter of having a balance of happiness.
If there's no buoyancy it makes no sense in being unhappy. Its best to have a contingency plan, an ace up a sleeve so to speak, if the relationship
goes south than to sit sadly and only play the bad cards dealt to you.
Shea Feb 26
Lay your hands
Upon my chest
So I
Can finally be healed
Of all my sins
And endeavors I've
Faced so long
And I
Give up my life
I still want to die
Even after you showed me to fly
Eye for an eye
Taste for a taste
And **** for a ****
Leave me alone
I lay on the levy of a bank
Concrete death snd stricken of faith
The metal will caress my skin tonight
As I
Pray for one last change

Time can alter your eyes
And blind the blind
Behind your eyes
The feeling of being cynical
Jaded, faded, haven't felt sober in a year
Even though she never did
Any drugs
Watch yourself live
Your own life
Baptize and color blind
Never live
Once will die,
I will I will I will
Feel the same again
There is no cure
Except for you
And you left us years ago
When we killed your son
Shunned you like
A runaway
I want to run away
Want you to go away
These days
fray narte Jun 30
I no longer dance
under a raincloud of poems
but if you let me,
I’ll pull you
under every tiny bit
of cloud I find
and we can dance under them;
our sadness,
condensing into raindrops —
our façade,
melting with the petrichor —
as if a downpour of words
will wash away
the bruises and scars
and baptize our soul anew.

a clean slate;

like the soil after the storm,

like leaf patterns that
know happiness

like a summer day,
Skaidrum Sep 2017
This morning:

The quiet bleeds when you're not looking.
i did not know that the quiet could bleed.

Depression enters my room,
the garden wails in protest, death kisses my stomach,
Sadness whispers that she will not take my chalk outline and teach it how to walk today.
Today the sun stops working.

My mother buries
whatever slowly died in me
under the duvet.

Last night:

i guess,
anything can be a gun
if the darkness surrounding it
is hungry enough

i don't know how i make it to his bathroom
in time, but i can already feel the autopsies
they will preform on me;

i tame ugly screams beneath it all,
tell myselff it's not suicide if
love hangs in my mouth.

The other day:

"i have no sympathy"
"if it's killing you, then why are you still with him"

This particular stain of anger never quite
reaches my reflection in the mirror.
But it sets my clothes on fire.
All the same,
i seethe endlessly; and slit the throat of forgiveness so
it is not an option i could consider.

My father wakes up inside of me sometimes;
i am not afraid to be
a weapon in which i was designed,
a nuclear war in which i will return home from.

A while ago:

"you need to figure things out between just the two of you, none of your girl friends should be threatening my baby boy"
"i would have married a man i didn't love..."

for the love of GOD---

To ALL the adults who have tasted false wisdom
and wish to share it with me;
do not speak to me as if you could translate my suffering
for me, you do not look like a ghost to me,
do not treat me like i do not know that trauma is a thief to my innocence, you do not look like a victim to me,
do not ******* tell me that i am to contain myself to your benefit, because you know nothing but the way my name tastes on your lips,

i will
paint targetson your back,
with your own words--
and i will feed you to
the bullet feast when you least
expect it.

Don't patronize me with your ignorance disguised as watercolors.

Later tonight:

A little like all at once,
all over the world,
i fall out of love with you.

i used to baptize myself in
the things my phoenix would whisper to me,
all his solids and shadows
oh, the world was so beautiful in his eyes.

And how i wish there was a softer metaphor
that could lower me into this grief,
cause isn't heaven heavy enough,
isn't this hurting plenty?


i don't know how to describe the aftermath
other than----

"there is just a lonely hum in my mind
where my name used to be.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Michael Briefs Nov 2017
Wrestling with the rifts within,
Fraught with an inner turmoil,
I stagger down to the sea,
Seeking to uncoil.
Standing out on the pier,
Alone with the song of the shore
And the sea around me,
The bitter questions dissipate,
The draining weight lifts free.

Waves crash and currents move
Like gravity made plain;
A watery force droning as voices
The sound of this presence pulls me
Into a trance of fate.  
My reverie foments, my mind drifts
And my thoughts fly
Like sea spray.

Inside, I am dancing, daring, flirting with
Danger and teasing the tides!
Soon, I feel like I am floating above
The deluge,
Yet my courage abides.

I am in that place
In the midst of a constantly flowing
But I am steady,
Held within its reach.
I am not lashed by the elements
Nor tattered by the winds…
I feel immersed in this dynamic
Field of hydro-power
And showering sonic sheets.  

This place has become a part of me,
For my heart has joined with it
And the two become one:
Pulse and flow,
Flesh and wet,
Water and blood
It’s the rise and fall of
Centrifugal churning
(beneath the waves and within this body),
It’s the crack of a quickening surge!

In this bracing instant, we hum
In sympathetic harmony,
At this moment, at once, I am
Vulnerable and victorious,
Pallid and empowered,
Passing and present;
All of these combined.

With the lurking land mass of my life behind
And this mysterious, epic depth before,
My soul hangs suspended
And separate from those on the ships and
Those who tread
Beyond the shore.  

Behind, in the earth, I have been fashioned
For a life like the teeming masses
I see every day.
With so many years gone by, under
The wandering sun and the
Waning moon,
I have journeyed in vain.  
With the taste of dust in my mouth,
My feet are blistered by
The fractured terrain.

I am yoked with the weight of
Bruised memories, still unresolved
Conflicts in my mind.
That earth realm leaves me weary,
In black and sullen confusion, blind.

Yet something is calling me back
To forth,
Out from and above those wasted years,
Like so many fingers
Clutched around my neck!
I sense my flight and my future are found before me.
I feel girded for the trek.

There is an overwhelming need
For a desperate DEPARTURETURN!  
To evolve…

Then, within my soul and with
The salt of my saliva,
I gasp at a realization...Yes!
This is a chance to chart my course!
To start my life anew!
To face the epic depth of
This fearful moment!

To descend and rise….to baptize.  

There seems to be mercury in my
Blood stream for it swells until
My eyes swim!
There is a cataclysm in my psyche
As the crashing ricochets

My soul, my fears, my hopes and my heart
Are fluxing and flying wildly, like sea spray!

There is a feeling of being drawn out,
Like a force of gravity
On a current of inevitability.
At this moment, at last, I am one.
Sarah Rodríguez Dec 2018
“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

Momma! Can you hear me? I can hear you singing through tears momma. Please don’t cry. It’s going to be ok momma. I’m not in the dark anymore. Here there’s only light, and plenty of room to run. Momma it’s amazing here!Everything is going to be ok. So please, please, please, momma, don’t cry, rest your head, let me sing to you.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

No one knows. No one knows the loss of my own body, the ripping and savagery that took my own flesh. The pain that blooded and caressed my thighs.

They did no wrong, they hadn’t even breathed never the less committed a single sin. My beautiful, beautiful baby. did I do you wrong? Did your creation create a target on your head. A punishment for my sin.

You didn’t deserve to be stripped of the earth, before you could even experience it. To be failed by the body that was supposed to love you the most.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

And I hold these red beads in my hands, thinking of that day when red was all I could see. Grasping this shield singing and praying for healing. Wondering who you could have been. Creating these ideas of who you would of looked like.

If you would of had my brown curly hair and his silly smile. If you would have his musical genius and my creative brain. Thinking just how beautifully beautiful you would’ve been.

Could you solve a math equation from the top of your head, would you sleep till noon like your father, or wake up early like me, would you continue the tradition and play tennis or would you create your own traditions, Would I walk you down the isle, or button up your tux? Oh my dear child you don’t even know what it would have been like to baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirt.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

Baby my sweet child,
Why did you leave before I could even say your name?
Why did you give into the white light and leave me with a scarlet pain?

Did you sacrifice yourself to spare me of what life I would have lived with you in it?

But I want you in my life. I dream of your ringing footsteps, of you crying out for me, of holding you to my breast and carrying for you with everything I have.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

Baby, I’m sorry I never got the chance to love you.
But you’re not a baby anymore now are you, you’re my little angel.
Sweet angel of mine, I’m sorry that I failed you. I’m sorry that I can’t internalize a reason for you death even though your death was internal for me.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you the life that you deserved.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

My beautiful baby I love you till this day.
You might be gone, but the idea of who you could have been lives on with me, forever.

I’m sorry our love died I’m sorry that my body wasn’t strong enough to hold you.
I was carrying so much, that it made me lose my everything that could of been you.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

I would have named you Mark or John, or Mary magdalin, I would have rocked you to sleep every night. Loved you with all of my heart, sing to you till your precious eyes closed, and I would be sure to let you know I loved you. I loved you while you were being formed, and I loved and I missed you while you were deformed.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

Baby, sweet child of mine, how could you have left when there is so much love left for you here with me. Why did you go home before I had the chance to make you a home of this world. Before I could even see your face before we could even given you a name.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

Precious little baby I know you’re at the gates of heaven, and I know you’re not mine, so all I ask from you is to send me a sign that you’re ok, that I can be ok without you.

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion
Have mercy on us and on the whole world”

But I lay here barren and empty.
Scooped bare, and ripped apart internally.
I have nothing to give you but my love.
I will always love you. My sweet beautiful baby. And I will hold my hand to your previous home of my body and feel for your heartbeat, your sweet beautiful innocent heart beat and I will never forget you, the love of my life, the one I never knew.
Stu Harley Oct 2018
holy wings
glide above
sandy white
gospel wind
My Moonlight archipelago,
my escape
I approach the buttress of boredom better known as your doorstep

I pull you in...
your hair stretches from clenched fingers and what follows down to the feel of my fingertips is religious in nature
under a broken blue street lights, i cradle inward, immersed now in infinite youth of lust... a flash of light... street lamps lit now a Coca Cola Red ... the color plays, a chromatic cinema fills through
your follicles

I spin you away momentarily and envy my shadow now pressing upon you

we are Cathars,
heuristic heretics,
learning love through touch in a hate filled land (the pesky conformity of late-stage Western Civilization)


Your ether look absolves me of this world’s sins
beam raw:
render quiet:
Baptize me in the esoteric and verbose stares, the *** is drawn on your lips, so mouthy, but saying nothing inside the long Chaplin silence,
you vacillate
and I’m vacant
my voice removed
spent, empty in the Valentino deadpan stares 

Post Script: The gaze gave conversations: conversions still silent in her looks, a living Bible's worth of words in those sacred scripture holy eyes.
Amanda Sep 13
there exists a group of us
peculiar people
who experience the world deeply

a depth the world oft prefaces
with “too”
—a preface that makes us
peculiar people smirk—
knowing that these non-peculiar people
have never sobbed
at the stoicism of the moon

they’ve never felt crisp autumn air
baptize their souls as if by magic

they’ve never lost and found the world
in the cobblestone streets they walk

they’ve felt love
but they haven’t existed for it

they’ve been happy
but their hearts haven’t bled gold

they see water when they look at the ocean
we tremble at its omnipotent chaos

they enjoy saying the word “too”
we delight in translating to “fortunately”

there exists a group of us
peculiar people
who experience the world too deeply

we like to call ourselves
sitting on a plane headed toward spain
and i’ve never seen the moon so close
she’s standing watch over the atlantic
while i’m racing the sun to madrid

when it hit me...
only poets have ever felt this.
fellow passengers are watching movies
but i can’t take my eyes off of the moon
patty m Nov 5
The true Exorcism took place in an old hospital in St Louis, called Alexian Brothers Hospital.  It was a hospital run by Jesuits who care for the sick and poor.  The child was a boy and not a girl, who was a very troubled child:  The following is an excerp from a newspaper and my post will follow this one
When the movie The Exorcist came out, it put quite a stir into our society. When I went to see the movie for myself, individuals from a nearby church were handing out bible tracts after we came out of the theater. A local radio station, KMOX in St. Louis, had a Jesuit Priest explain the true story behind legend. This is an account of what really happened in January of 1949.
  The parents of a young 13 year old boy heard what sounded like mice scratching on the inside walls of the boy's bedroom. They hired an exterminator to quickly solve the problem. However, this seemed to add to the problem. More things began to happen. Things like plates moving, the boy's bed shaking and bed sheets ending up on the floor. All of these events can be explained away.
  Let us start at the beginning. The story begins in a Washington DC suburb of Cottage City. The boy was the only child of a dysfunctional family and had a troubled childhood. The family thought that their house was possessed. So they decided to move to the Midwest. However, it was there, the incidents began to escalate. His Aunt Tillie, who lived in St. Louis, had taught the boy how to use a Ouija board. She died from multiple sclerosis on January 26, 1949. Shortly after that, the incidents intensified. It has been suggested that her spirit plagued the boy.  Nothing would have ever been known about the case if it had not been for the diary. Somehow the 26-page document disappeared from Alexian Brothers Hospital in South St. Louis. The story goes that when the psychiatric wing of the hospital was torn down, workers found the diary locked in a desk drawer. It was discovered that the diary had been written by a Father Raymond Bishop SJ. He was one of the participants in the exorcism, but the child's name was never stated.
  The diary claims that the boy suffered from words scratched on his chest and abdomen. The unexplained words "Louis" and "No" appeared on his body. There was also accounts of food flying through the air, candle flames being snuffed out and the displacement of room furniture.
  Another diary account has the boy being driven to a Catholic church for a Catholic baptism. On the way to the church, the boy grabbed his uncle by the throat and said, "If you think you are going to baptize me, you are a fool." The actual baptism took two hours to perform instead of ten minutes.
  The actual rite of exorcism began on March 11, 1949. It began at the church rectory but had to be moved to the psychiatric ward at Alexian Brothers. It continued for weeks. At one point the boy approached Father Bowdern and dissolved the booklet being used in his hands.
  Finally, one evening the boy was being forced to take communion. During this time, the voice of the demon inside the boy changed to another. The voice identified itself as St. Michael the Archangel. He ordered the entity to leave and it did. The boy sat up, smiled at Father Bowdern and said he is gone. The exorcism was over.
  Nothing was ever brought up, until the story behind the diary surfaced. This is when author William Peter Blatty heard about it and used it for his book The Exorcist. If you compare the movie and the true story, there are some similarities. However, the movie was greatly exaggerated. The true story is left to a lot of speculation.
  On a personal note, I spent two visits at Alexian Brothers Hospital, once in 1951 and then again in 1952. Neither experience was a good one for me.  They were two of the worst experiences of my life.
 Did this exorcism take place? Nobody knows the truth. That is the way it will always remain; each individual has to be the judge.

Patty's Post:

Sometime in the1980's not feeling well I was rushed to Alexian Brothers Hospital with an ovarian cyst that was not only infected but gangerous.  I was a frightened out of my mind and in so much pain I wouldn't have cared if someone killed me as long as they put me out of my misery.  I remember a priest coming in and giving me  last rites, his hands kind as he annointed my head.  Then blackness as an emergency operation took place.  It was frightening because I was all alone.  It was a comedy of errors that day.  First  of all I was supposed to babysit for my employer's wife, because the Baker I worked for had tried to commit suicide.  He was a kind man with 10 children whose business was going down hill.  It had increased with my coming to work for him because I'm a natural saleswoman and I had acquired three big businesses who wanted daily deliveries of doughnuts and pastries.  I don't know the story behind the suicide attempt, but it was a botched job and he was hospitalized.  Luckily he had a son in his 20's who was also a baker to keep the bakeries open and the deliveries made  

His wife came to my house to drop off the two youngest children and found me writhing with pain.  She saved my life that day, because I wouldn't have called the ambulance thinking by some miracle I might be better in an hour or two.  Thus I was operated on with none of my family around, in a place I had only visited once or twice before; once with my grandpa who died there and later for my best friend who also died.  Did it cross my mind that it could be my fate too, maybe for an instant but being the fighter I am I was sure I'd come out alive.  After the operation I was in ICU a week, still in pain, and very anemic so I was getting blood transfusions and huge amounts of antibiotics in my IV's for the poison that had seeped into my system.  Then came a day they moved me to a different room.  Now when I'm saying this hospital was old it depended on what part you were in.  They had a new section that was built in the front, and a very old section that was in the back.  I guess the hospital was overcrowded or maybe it was my lack of good insurance, because I was put on the ground floor in the old part.  My room had a one of those doors that had a window on top but was double panes of glass with wire between them.  It was three doors down from the morgue and farther down the hall was a staircase that went up two flights that was blocked off.  I was later told by the cleaning lady, one of the few people I saw while in that room, just her and an occassional nurse, that that flight of stairs led to the room where the boy was kept and it was in that room the exorism had taken place.
Now if the morgue and the staircase weren't enough to freak me out, the woman in my room was there for psychiatric treatment and acted very weird.   I couldn't find any other rooms on the floor and there was no nurses station.  My family visited me regularly along with a young seminarian who was delightful.  His presence was light in a sinister tunnel, he came often taking me out of that room to pray with me and make me laugh.  There was an infestation of roaches in the cabinet next to my bed, my mom had brought me cookies and they were a hit with the roach crowd.  I had to go to a public bathroom as there was none in my room.  Now mind you it's a week after my surgery and they made me get a pan of water in the public rest room to bring back to my room to bathe with.  I wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy and I thought at the time they were insane, everyone of them.  The cleaning lady smoked slim black cigars and had a harsh crass voice. The only visitor my roomie had was her husband who looked thrilled when he could leave.  I had my family visit with me in a little alcove sitting area down the hall.  The eeriness that filled that place was disheartening and I was plagued with bad dreams and consantly feeling ****** out of sleep.  I'd awaken in a sweat and cried for no reason.  I think if I had to stay much longer than I did I would have gone downhill losing my fighting spirit to depression.  Thankfully I was released and though weak it was such a relief to get home where I got better by leaps and bounds.  But it was a crazy experience, one I'll never forget.  They've since torn down that old section and it's a very modern hospital now.  The last time I visited, my Dad was a patient there, and it felt completely different feel from the old horror movie feeling I had before. Years later I went to New Orleans and decided to take a ghost tour.  How surprised I was that one of the stories related was the true story of the Exorcism.  Others were amazed and frightened but I knew the story and the place well, having exorcised my own demons there.
Lexie Jul 24
I couldn't tell you
What time
I woke up this morning
Sweating, scared
Am I blind
Is a mask
Slipping over my eyes
I don't know
If my heartbeat is fast
Or beating at all
The smell of flesh
Burning underneath my nose

I hum
When I need to calm myself down
Am I panicking now
Where am I
The back of my throat, dry
Skin beneath my eyes, wet

Eyes, sweating
Pores, crying
Breathe into me
Bring me above water

I throw my sheets off
Thinking I'm tangled
In thoughts

There is a man
Next to me
Is this a dream too
A barrier
Of bones
A continent
Between me
And the rest of the world
Oceans of confusion
I cannot bridge

I cannot stomach this dream
It bit into me
A cannibal, feasting
Wishing to devour
Eat me up
Drink me down
With a thousand year hunger

I hum
Voice shaking
As much as my hands

I grab the back of your shirt
Afraid of slipping
Back into the dreamscape
I smell burning flesh
Sins I am not sure
Are my own

Will I attone for them
I hold no ground here
Between chasms
No charm
For serpent tongued liars
No bribe
For master cohorts
Who smile
At the face of death
The face
Of a dear friend

I was younger
Before this dream
Nightmares cost years
I turn my pockets inside out
Nickles and dimes
For Cerberus
Death will make me her *****

Did I make this
In my own head
Questioning sanity
Bring the rod down
On my knuckles
Who will answer
At the stand
Under oath
Skeleton judges
Don't care for lies

I was dreaming
Sinking deeper
In a black river

Cutting tiger stripes
Into a cat
With burning talons
Searing sins
Into flesh
Instead of feathers
Instead of candle wicks
Who am I


I am no bird

Did I do this
Did I watch
How unordained

My body a temple
I a devout sinner
Priests and saints
Baptize me in their water
I find myself no cleaner
Than ashes
In the wind
An unholy adornment

I hum

Am I deserving of comfort
Do my knees bend
My lips
Remember prayer

I hum
Under the water
It's boiling
Is this hell
Am I evil
Am I wrong
Will I burn

I hum

I am not God
All I can say is I had the weirdest ******* dream.
Bryce May 13
Standing upon these novel halls
The man, waiting
Seeks temperance and a kindness from God

He says,

"Give to me the gift of your knowledge and I will smite your enemy--rebuild the garden and replace those fruits long lost"

And his request echoes impotent through a voiceless hall

He cries, wails, churns and smashes
his dirtied knuckles on the walls

He yells, buckles, whines and sputters
Choked and lost in miserable,

The flanking rooms locked and dark
With constant voicing, gently call

"Who upon ye has the gall,
to name me Father"

And he is quiet.


In Moscow the Siberian fall grips the air
A wandering Dostoyevsky speaks in exhalations to the crack of gunshot in the dawn

A brief tightening of callous rope around his dry poetic throat

And at once his words sought to cull
the exquisite embers of furious retort

And he is silent.


The kindness of a failing city-state
Conveyed on the precipice of a bay
Jack teethed his frantic dharmas
And said to Them,

"What terminus of road
Would ever serve my unwinding soul?"

And as his gut trembled a final thought,
His eyes turned skyward, above the clouds

Where it was silent.


Dorigen, repenting the patient shores of tranquil sea
Accusing the chalk of its blackened soul
Traces the subtle dance of gulls
As their drowning feathers face these ageless things
whysper'd deep upon the winds

And she is Silent.


Basho, with a wanderer's grin
In solumn steps between the grains
Shades the path of unfamiliar road
And every poem steeped within

Where clouds are soft, where crickets sing
Past warbling stream with cadence grim
The Dao, leading ever onward

Says to him,

"Like water, do I rain."


Milton, his misted eyes
No light to guide their failed sight
Trace an ancient knowing glance
To Crown, his subtle circumstance

No soul in life
could see the might
Who gave this man his funeral rites

And when his words fall deaf at last
On his forgotten time and wishful past

He will stare deep into an inky void
And see
The stars for what they are:

Light, dispersed between the dark.


In the waning tide of Cresent lune
Twilight casts a gentle hue
Below the hill the city glows
The Palatine, gold and new

The ides, with consequence they come
And with them carry the will be done
Augustus' silent retinue of one
Notes a sky of draining sun

For Rome claws at all of Gaia's *******
And from sea to mount and desert dune
Ancient Africa, nascent Gaul
To Rome, will they forever fall

In darkness, the Palatine shadow loomed
Over web of flame-lit avenue

For the roads all led to Rome that night
For one small moment God guessed right

Cesar's legions on the fields of Mars
Clashed swords and drank to their Centurions
As an Era waited to see the dawn
And new blood to baptize the marbled Columns

And in the farms
beyond Rome,
The shepherds walked their sheep to rest
Where families returned to their homes
With stories of the day's parades and jests

And in the time
Between the days
When Rome slept and the crickets mated
The world was cast in velvet night
Lighted solely by constellation

And in that moment
God became
Jordan Hudson Nov 27
Listen to me you *****
Fitting in with the kids
They sit on their phones
Great **** from their bones
Ancestors with lives
Letters no text to write
Horse and buggy to ride
Blacks and whites riot
Phone calls over the lines
Analog clocks for the time
Boss beat the **** out their wives
Corrupt cops and their lies
Open your eyes
We are weak as hell
Seek the devil so tell
Confess your being so well
Save your mental health
With the devil
Satan and his truth
The lies are his only food
Feed the devil his cruel
Lies and his truth
Illusions of our vision
This whole lie you are livin'
Your life is a lie
Your mind must die
The ashes of the graved the souls of the saved
Take this **** back to the olden days
******* baptize I live by lies
Forget this **** I will die
In fact follow Jesus Christ
I sound like I lack God but I live by lies
I am a sinner but I try
I rap about the bad life
I am a winner blessed to the max
I follow God live by the facts
Forget Bill Nye I am on the right track
Science is a lie
Atoms are fake God is a debate
I can't see it then **** what they say
Listen to me you *****
Fitting in with the kids
They sit on their phones
Great **** from their bones
Ancestors with lives
Letters no text to write
Horse and buggy to ride
Blacks and whites riot

— The End —