So her hair grew long
Bit her nails nervously on the daily
and so did the memory of her lover who had left without saying anything about his farewell
All she remembers were his last words, "I want you to be happy and that's all... with or without me... you will prosper my darling"
He looked at her and his neck twisted slight to the right
beeeep....beeeep.....beeeep

and so he rest forever in a universe where they guide the lower consciousness with signs in the sky that read
"life goes on"
and so it does
and so you will prosper
You will live with misery and joy
In the end, let yourself fall into a pit of hope that one day you will see you other half in bed, naked
Forever the love is in your hands
So will her heart be on your mind
and yours on hers
The scars will heal within the love you build during the moments you wish you cherished when all goes wrong

LOOK UP


There's a star for you


and it will glow for you


Forever

Suited up as I try to maintain
In this ground cracking weather.
Heavy bags on my back
And artillery in my hands.
Goggles dusty
From the blistering sand
That slice my face like razors
With every gust of wind.
The scorching temperature
Is on hell and every breath
I take is so dry that my tongue's stiff.
One canteen,  a few packs of food,  
And a mission to complete.
My boots are laced,  
With my feet feeling like people
Trapped in a burning building.
The further I go the more my body
Feels like it's being cremated.
I must reach my destination....
As helicopters pass through
Dropping explosives the size of a
Small child with the impact of
Several meteors hitting the earth.
Running like a track meet and
Maneuvering like a game of Dodgeball.
Gunfire,  bodies,  and thick smoke
As I bypass fallen aircrafts.
Approaching my target which
Will be my final destination.
BOOM! I found myself airborne to
Only hit the ground in unconsciousness.
BEEEEP! Is all I hear as I try to get
Up and regain consciousness.
Just a little over a hundred yards to
Go with a blurred vision
Feels like a lifetime.
As I'm reaching my target with
Bullets whistling pass my ears....
It's time. I set up my shot....
I hold my breath
Heart pounding with adrenaline
I'm studying
I'm focused
I'm ready....
POW! As my 50 caliber jerks
Back into my shoulder kicking
The dirt off the ground like a horse
At the Kentucky Derby.
MISSION COMPLETE!
As I'm going home with a bad case
Of paranoia and a Metal of honor...
I still have disastrous flashbacks
And ****** nightmares.
But....Nothing compares to that
STORM in the DESERT.

Saturday morning cartoons in the late 80's

Beeeeeep
Beeeep
Beep!

Blankets get thrown
Quick yawn and a stretch
And I'm gone.

Run to the cabinet grab my rescuer's toothbrush and colgate.
Its the total complete toothpaste
Brushing frantically in the pantry and I grab the frosty flake
You know they're  Greeeeeeeat.

Get to the sink and rinse with a swift swish and a spit.

Done with that, as I dig through the drawers for my plastic Punch Bowl.
Pour in the entire box of cereal and a half gallon of liquid gold

6:53am tap the power button on the remote control, stack all the pillows and blankets in the middle of the room, 5 min left till my favorite shows

7am and it begins, Spider-man and his amazing friends 7:30 and its the Wonder Twins
Commercial break for school house rock,
go take a ****
then switch my cereal to cookie crisp

8am silver hawks and the copper kid,
8:30 voltron black lion forms the head
While thunder cats at 9am battle Mumm-Ra the un-dead

930 pound puppies that was my thing
Bright eyes, violet, and cooler was the man
When 10am came that meant the shows were coming to an end.
That half-hour reserved for Prince Adam of Eternia better known as He-man

And the last of the shows came after 1030 to 11o'clock. Here came "the Little's" cuz the Little's don't stop.

The sunlight peaking through the blinds, 11 years old, cereal all gone spazzed on a sugar rush, Waiting to play with my cousins.
Grandma picks me up from uncle Gary then off to Dain and Tony for destruction, bike race, GI Joe and burgers from Rally's
Those were the days
The good ol days

-Alexis J. Meighan-
July 13 at 8:11pm ·

Chapter 1
Beeeep.
My mom checks her phone.
"I just took 37 pills and I'm afraid I'm going to die."

Chapter 2
Everyone always talks about how beautiful night is. In our poems we compare it to love. We compare it to eternity. We compare it to existence. But the darkness scares me. Nighttime terrifies me. I become so alone with my thoughts and there is no escape. I am completely alone. And when i'm alone i tend to do reckless things. My brain; so impulsive. I get drunk, I smoke ****, I have ***. I cut myself. I contemplate the bottle of pills under my bed.  I take the bottle of pills hidden under my bed. I don't cry; no-this isn't real yet. I don't shake. Steady hands. I forget about my family; I am not afraid of dying. Ten down. 27 to go. 16. 11. 8. 2.
I look up. I count to twenty. I feel sick. My sister, comes in. I cry- I cry so hard. I am going to die. I remember my family.
I am afraid.
So I text my mother. I refuse to face her-I won't face her. The shame, the guilt, the disappointment she will have. The anger.  She's going to be so angry.

Chapter 3
My dad storms in my room. So, so, angry. I cry-i'm scared. Not of  dying. I'm scared of my dad. Of my mother. Of their judgement. I walk into their bedroom. Nobody cries. I can feel the hostility. I can feel the anger. Why don't they love me?  "Attention seeker." They say. I cry. I hope I die. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have let them find me, shriveled up like a dried out flower- no pulse no pulse no breathing.
My mother takes me to the ER. My father stays home to sleep. My stomach feels like I have a cancer- a mold growing inside of me.
But I am afraid I will live.

watch words, words watched for,
for watching words, is not a chore,
if your paid to watch, not the shore,
or the land or the sky or a radar screen,
or even reruns of Ben Vereen,
toe tapping, his way across the stage,
but you Need Some Attention paid,
so you watch words to earn a wage,
internet, email, and cell phone ALL
technology to watch what words will work without that wascal wabbit wunning off at the mouth,
where words pop out as fast as
pills
pop in
so No Substance Abuse is noticeable...

this poem has been interrupted beeeep pppppp!  * crackle

The hearts of their old souls beat fast
His breath taken from him.
An optical illusion to some eyes
yet simple to mine.
         She dances in the moonlight rays,
        He prays to see her again someday.
        She dances her way off the stage;
        into the dark abyss.
He cries at the thought of seeing her again,
Forever wishing to have just one last glimpse one last kiss again.
He cries and weeps,
like a faucet in a sink;
            While they all fell bad for there love story,
            such a short story.
beeeep
beeeep
He wakes up astonished;
looking in a gaze; proud to see another day.
Just to realize
His love was taken yesterday.
                                                      ­     yours truly,
                                                          ­                . . .