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Cné Jan 2018
years ago
i was consumed
in the deep abyss of depression.
i had been there before
and had always managed
to dig my way out.
but this time i got lost
in a maze, each turn dragging me further
into Hell.

so many unresolved thoughts plagued
the chasm of my mind.
i wanted to die,
not to **** myself,
for i couldn't be that selfish
to hurt my family in that way.
but i prayed selfishly
to be put out of my misery.
a prayer i felt unanswered
for months on end.
i tried to hide
this darkness
from those closest to me,
isolating myself.

in a defense mechanism sarcastic tone,
i smirked to a friend
that all i really wanted
was peace.
she encouraged me to pray.
i responded honestly,
"i'm not sure prayer works for me
because i've lost faith."

as if God only answers to those with faith.
she told me
that i might need to see results to believe
but that i should
give it a shot anyway
and stick with it.
i brushed it off.

the next morning,
i woke up with my normal
(worse than normal, at that time)
negative thoughts, you're ****, fat, unworthy ...
(that's the censored, more kind version of my thoughts)
to which i argued in my head,
be kind.
silly i know.
then my friend's words resonated
"give it a shot."
so i quickly prayed a simple prayer for peace
in my mind, body and in my soul.
of course, i didn't feel any different at the time,
but i drug my heavy laden body out of bed.
forced myself to workout and went to work.

my first client that day was new to me.
hiding behind my work mask,
i presented myself professional
with my usual introduction.
she returned the favor
with a look of odd fascination.
so i continued with
"have i worked on you before?"
hoping i hadn't absentmindedly
not recognized a former client.
she responded "no, but you are Liz, right?"
i confirmed and proceeded to my room.
after scoping out the surroundings,
she commented on one of my paintings
on the wall, of an Angel.
it's an abstract.
some people don't see it.
then she asked ...
if i was a believer.
caught off guard
i responded "excuse me?"
she said, "do you believe in Jesus?"
not accusatory or even with aggression,
but a simple question, with dancing eyes.
i said, yes, more out of fear,
with my current frame of mind, at the time.
i was fragile and trying desperately
to hold it together.

i left her to ready herself for therapy
and took the opportunity
to regain my composure,
securing my guarded mask.
when i began therapy
she sighed and said
"i felt in my heart
that you were the right therapist for me,
because i can feel your kind heart."

i asked "did someone refer you to me?"
with suspicion, and narrowed eyes.  
she responded "no. Jesus gave me your name."
she told me how she relied heavily on prayer
and that brought her to see me.
i **** you not.
i brushed off her words
as any sane
(even in depression)
person would.

she was not easy to work
as a large body
that was hard as stone.
but my thoughts began to shift,
i swallowed an emotional lump in my throat.
in that moment, i realized,
i felt privileged to be working on her,
for her to have sought me out
on a quest from Jesus, or so she believed.
a peace i'd never experienced before
washed over me, cleansed me, anointed me.
in that moment, i felt clean, light.

afterward she gave me a huge hug
with an exaggerated pause
and whispered in my ear,
that prayer was the only reason
she was alive.
it felt like no other hug i'd received before,
so tender, sweet and sincere.
so i asked myself
"was this a sign?"

from that day forward,
i found my way back.
navigating the maze.
it didn't happen all at once
but each step, each turn
lead me out of the abyss of darkness
and toward the light of harmony and peace.
and though, i still slip occasionally,
i recall that spiritual experience.
this happened. i don't consider myself and a religious person but i would say i am spiritual.  i don't share this experience often because had it not happened to me, i wouldn't believe it. i share it now in hopes that someone who is lost, isolated, hurt, in pain, and in the grips of darkness, might believe it possible to find their way out.
Lady Narnia May 2016
Oh, how dark our history is
You, my author of misery and pain
With fingers set to scribble my demise
This is our story, writ with chaotic pen

One that left calamity in its wake

You would always start the chapter
Every page inked with words of black
On the point of a pen, you'd viciously write
Using the sharp edge to stab into my being

Scripting, deeply, my eternal damnation

You erased my name and made me delusional
Always forcing me to your divine will
For the pen, always mightier than the sword
Was kept toward the edge of my neck

Swearing to strike at any given moment

Always determined, I'd end our sentences
Fighting to gain balance and bear the final period
Yet it was not without consequences
For you and I were wrought with scars

Etched into the bottom of our hearts, a burning black

If only these words painted a happy picture
But the thousand only paint a picture of pain
A dreary battle between two broken forces
On timeworn pages, brittle-ing on and on

Begging for the piece that holds our final chapter

And that chapter swiftly came for I was the ending
Leaving in the night, gone without a trace
With no words or ink left as a guiding clue
Carefully escaping from your paper prison

Free from the agony of the writer's press

On that day, I began my life again
Starting a happy story; free, original, and new
A home of letters filled with love, life, and joy
Where I'd never dare see you again, my dear, dear author

And never bleed black from your miserable weapon
Bryan Lunsford Apr 2018
With one month–two months–three months–and then four,
As I'd say it was about the fifth month that I just couldn't take it any more,
For there, with thoughts of a woman's departure leaving my mind to feel torn,
I sit here trying not to cry with these tears continuously hitting the floor,
Where I sit here in a dark room that I don't want to sit in anymore, I continue to write about this woman that consumes everything within my universe,
With her possessing a soothing beauty that I adore and with such grace that could never be ignored,
She simply is the most amazing woman that I've ever met before,
And that's why I'll be here all alone, forevermore, just wishing I could hear her say one last and final word,
Though, as I've been ignored, and with her staying miles and miles away,
I've slowly began to lose more and more of my faith, where I have been sleeping most of the days away,
Because only in my dreams do I ever get to see her face, but tonight I won't be able to sleep and will be wide awake,
As I'll be writing all day and night with her on my brain, with today being the anniversary of the sixth month that she's been away
Daisy Marrow Jul 2014
Look at yourself,
you're drained empty.
You'll never forget it
have you even tried?
You've gone and thrown yourself into the arms of someone who isn't strong enough to keep you up.
Did he make your head spin faster?
Did he make your heart beat faster?
On nights staying up wondering if he loves you I hope you someday find yourself instead.
Love is so sick when you can't see reality.
Notice he speaks your name with lack of passion.
See how his eyes can never match up with yours.
Do you even know where all this began?
It's making me sick, love
seeing you stumble home
on nights of loveless love, he never gave you.
Sweetheart, what have you got yourself into?
Do not follow his voice it's only making you settle more.
Please just admit that you've broken your own self this time around.
After all, he has put you through
how can you even still call him lover?
2014
Traveler Jun 2013
I was turned on by a Toaster, she tanned my bread to gold
In time she ejected me, it was her natural Toaster role...
I fell for her sister, a Deep Fryer in despair, my lust began to boil
I had to come up for some air...
I ran off with a Can Opener, she could even sharpen knives,
She opened up a can of *** whip, she could never be my wife!
I met a **** Freezer, but her heart was cold as ice, I was bitten by her frosty ways
Once bitten, never twice...
I made my way across the tile to an Oven quite unique
All her features were well displayed, on this EZ Baking Freak!
She cooked me on the surface, yet burnt me deep within
I guess my culinary skills were lacking in the end...
So now I date a Spatula safely from the heat
She flips a mean burger and french fries by the heap!
Truth is I'm a fat guy
Who really likes to eat!
Traveler Tim
Mak Jul 2014
The room was silent. The only sound to be heard was the slow, steady dripping from my mother’s IV.      

“What do you mean, you’re dying?”

Multiple Sclerosis was, in short, a ***** of a disease. Somewhere along the span of my mother's 35 short years on this planet, her immune system made a giant mistake. For uncertain reasons, her body began to attack nerve cells, severely affecting her brain's processing ability and mobility. The only medication that had ever subdued the symptoms was beginning to **** her.

“It isn’t an immediate thing, Makayla. I still have plenty of time.”

Turning away from my mother, I wiped tears from my eyes. There was no way in hell I was going to let my family see me cry. Absolutely no way. This was a joke. My mom was not going to die.

“Kayla, baby, talk to us. It’s okay.”

With a deep breath, I forced a smile, as I often did, and blinked away all traces of tears from my gray eyes. Turning around to meet my parents’ worried expressions, I simply nodded.

“How long?”

The question came out as more of a statement than a question. The morbid implication of those two short words spoke worlds louder than any words I could muster.

“5 years, at the absolute worst.”

At that, I stood, and left. I ran, and ran, and ran. I ran until my lungs hurt, and then kept running. But no matter where or how fast I went, I knew I could not escape the horrible reality of the matter.

The woman who gave me life was losing hers.

I was always the type of person who knew how to talk my way out of any situation.

And this time, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

There’s no sweet-talking death.

And with that, I began to accept her demise, and my defeat.

///

The first sip burned my esophagus, and I felt the blaze continue to my stomach, where it left a lasting warmth. I coughed a little, as the hazy feeling of drunkenness set in, setting my head spinning and my insides ablaze.

The past two months (52 days, 4 hours, and 30-something seconds) were a continuous downward spiral into a constant intoxicated state. Instead of addressing my feelings in the endless sea of counseling sessions and semi-sympathetic family therapy hours, I isolated myself. When my mother asked how I was, my reply remained the usual, “Doing great, mom.”

I was not, in fact, doing great. The alcohol wrapped itself into me, braided itself within my better sense, and I began to let myself fall apart. The wall I so often hid behind, the wall of perfection, of cool, was crumbling. Short, yet deep cuts lined my thighs, just high enough to be hidden by the hem of my shorts.

My mother had the opportunity to save her own life. Russian research had found a possible cure for the disease that had been plaguing her very existence. 3 weeks of chemotherapy, followed by a few months of intensive care, and she would be normal once again.

My mother denied the treatment.

“Too much money,” she said.

“Too inconvenient,” she said.

Compared to the life of my mother, no amount of money nor convenience mattered.

I was furious.

I was drunk.

///

My mind swam, speech slurred, fingers trembled.

My phone sat in front of me, propped up on a gray tissue box, which had been halfway expended due to that night’s waterworks. The Coca-Cola can which held my ***/coke concoction was long past empty. I was drunk, and screaming words like ‘sorry’ and ‘doesn’t deserve this’ into a pillow. I knew my mother deserved to live. Compared to me, she was a saint. I felt empty and pathetic. I deserved to die.

I convinced myself that maybe if I did something extreme, she would value her own life more than she did.

I held tightly onto the railing of my house’s only set of stairs, as I attempted to keep my balance. I walked drunkenly to the medicine cabinet, careful not to make noise and wake my parents. I grabbed as many pill bottles as I could carry.

Exactly 41 pills of assorted shapes, sizes, and colors sat in lines on my bed. Small to large, rainbow order. The comfort of organization wasn’t helping this time. I wanted to die.

Before starting my buffet of medication, my phone lit up. One new text.

“I know you were feeling upset earlier, and I just wanted to remind you that you are special. You matter.” I instantly felt even ******* for what I was about to do.

I laid down in bed, beginning to drown in my own tears, and let myself fall asleep.

Neither I nor my mother would be dying tonight.
Obadiah Grey Dec 2011
RIP,,, Obadiah.

here lies the body of Obadiah grey
choked on a bowl of soup they say
bought from Tesco’s last tuesday
fifty nine pence beef consommé,

Obadiah Obadiah Obadiah grey,
sure don’t smell a sweet bouquet,

here lies the body of Obadiah grey,
departed life yesterday,
ate too much of the free buffet
silly **** now has to pay,

Obadiah Obadiah Obadiah grey,
already started to decay................YAY!!!

We bunged up his holes
n buried him deep;
because the ******'s dead now
and began to seep.
Vicki Kralapp Jun 2013
Once I woke to find my knight,
  at first sign of morning light,
  lying softly in the sun's first rays.

Quietly I lie in wonder,
  watching as my thoughts did ponder
  as the light against his face did play

While my mind repeated lowly,
  I began to listen slowly,
  to its crisp and clear refrain;

Take this one and let him know
  how it is your love has grown
  and let him wipe away your years of pain.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
Hg Jun 2018
i keep on seeing stars
as freckles
on people's faces

i ask them ain't it cool
that you were born
with constellations?

but to them their spots of sun
represent
insecurities

they think they need makeup
to cover up
their galaxies

like one person I know
looks like ice cream
that's been peppered

the dots on her arm
come from her grandma
who's a leopard

but she says she hates them
she calls them
imperfections

cause back in school
kids mocked her for
her speckled complexion

a bully named georgina
used to call her
a giraffe

more girls joined in
and even then
her friends began to laugh

internalizing this
like a black hole
inside her mind

the dots of her
self confidence
had never been aligned

then a tear
streamed down her cheek
she sniffled and shivered

i'd never seen her sad
didn't know what to do
so I poked her

poked her face to show
my favorite star
below her eye

told her when we speak
it's like i'm talking
to the sky

and every time she blinks
that freckle vanishes
from sight

so every time she cries
a star goes missing
from the night

shame is taught
to many of us
at such an early age

comparing our looks
to everyone
as if we're made the same

girl you are spectacular
no matter of
heredity

your tears are shooting stars
made up of cosmic ice
and chemistry

then i saw
that freckle twinkle
right below her eye

skip ahead
to when i saw
that twinkle fade and die

she said
you’re taking off
into another world

that university’s
another universe
of girls

she said
experiment
i don’t want you to wait

I should have seen it coming
from a mile
milky way

you wish upon a star
To find someone
that’s wishing too

maybe one day
i’ll meet that one
but i wished it was you

i gotta say goodbye
i guess it ain't
the time or space

it just ain't right
that every night
i still will see your face
©Hg
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
I think everyone dies
I truly do
Every time they close their eyes
They remain motionless for hours
Until they are revived

Do you disagree?
Clearly you do
Care to show me your proof
So that it may sway me
To a more accepted pasture


"Well what of their vitality?"
"They still move and shiver"
"And they breathe as if alive"
"Surely if something died"
"Their movement would cease"

Yes, their heart beats, and yes, they awaken
But I truly think they, themselves, leave

Why do I arrive at this?
You mean how,
Through a simple observation
I suppose it, at least, to me
It began like this:

When blackest blanket with yellow dots encircled
The sky and the heavens above
I found myself watched and groped by the air
For someone was watching me
When nobody was there.
My Friend said to make my poem flow more instead of rhyme I disagree but here you go I attempted it.
Chloë Fuller Feb 2015
I feel like the only person alive during winter at 7 am
- Everything is a little more beautiful at night
- Oak cologne
- Skin is the sexiest part of the human body
- The moment his pheromones began to make me ill
- I'm floating too close to the sun
- Heels: A transformation
- A list of people I couldn't say no to
- We should've waited longer
- Modern romance and the death of sincerity
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
He owned books on many subjects
leather bound, with complex concepts
on which he'd ponder and reflect

He had it all, in some respects.

He could lecture quantum physics,
English literature and economics
He was renowned in academics

Though many found him quite eccentric

He explored the world only to find
That there's more to life than a brilliant mind
That there was a piece of him...undefined

See, He had never loved. He'd never pined

He knew all the math, knew all equations
He'd been to every corner of every nation
He'd learned 28 languages, knew every translation

But he was distraught by this realization

The pain he felt was too great to bear
He sank into the deepest and darkest despair
His heart was in need of dire repair

Finding love was his only prayer

He bumped into her by happenstance
and what began as an ephemeral glance
became a sucker punch from romance

She thought he was sweet, so she gave him a chance

That's when the world's smartest man finally learned how to dance
Somewhat inspired by the Dr. Who episode "The Doctor Dances"
"I'm a mermaid," she said as she kissed me.
Ah! her kiss made me drunker than wine.
I'd been longing for the ocean in her blue eyes,
it was calling to the diver in mine.
She whispered, "I've got just a little bit of magic
from my home in this big blue lagoon--
join me tonight for a swim in the moonlight,
I'll make some magic for you."

The full moon was rising in Paradise
as I made my way down to the shore.
There I dove right into the water,
I just couldn't stand it anymore.
Here she comes, swimming up to meet me--
wraps her self around me like a glove.
As long as I live I never could tell
the magic of a mermaid in love.

Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
Meet me here whenever you can.

The spell would be broken by sunrise,
but her "little bit of magic" was no lie.
We soared, freed by love, underwater,
free as two birds in the sky.
All too soon the sky began lightening,
the moon and the stars took their flight.
Our kisses were mingled with tears at the shoreline
where we promised to meet every night.

Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater,
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
make me a real merman.
This is a song I wrote some time ago. I can't read it without hearing it as a song--
Copyright  2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2014
The thick liquid began to slowly drip
I need you
I wiped the red off my lips

Through out your life
You are mine forever
As the blood ran down my mouth
I shielded my body
My mind going slack

Hands on my white throat
Began violently to squeeze
Eyes rolled back into my head
My soul in terror tried to flee

As the darkness closed in
He let the words slip
I love you
Slowly releasing his grip 

The sharp knife  against my throat
A weapon of fear
Submission its goal
Its deadly edge
I know all too well

Blue eyes
A person I did not know
Slept with me in the cradle of nightmares
Till the orange sun rose
He said I love you
A fool
My forgiveness flowed
For he was mine
This demon
To God I had spoken the vow

Always conscious and wary
He would speak the dreaded words again
I love you
Till would come my sad end




This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Feb.3, 2014
londin Nov 2013
When the song began I felt hallow and shy
While the second was playing I began filling up inside
On the third the chorus hit as did something in my chest
Through everything I've done He loved me through my worst and my best.
The blanket began to fall, nothing left to disguise
The first question was asked and I lifted my eyes.
My shame and regret was extracted from me
As He placed it as far to the East from the West as it could be.
Katelyn Billat Nov 2017
She took the joy.
She took him.
She killed me in the process.
My carcass decayed.
I was left for dead
But life began to make
Its way through me again.
Coneflowers sprouted from my ribcage.
Vines began to tangle up my spine.
Lilacs grew through my skull
I was alive again
with new strength and a
Bliss that came from within.
Sam Hawkins Feb 2016
when everything everywhere
whispered in irresistible languages

hey you there
stop resisting


i began to surrender
was flowing free

stretching
wings flapping

toward the unknowable
inside

experimented with ditching
body as identification
name as identification
personal history as identification

faded off
mad word searching
explaining  justifying
reiterating too much information

i loosened my squeeze grip
on intellectualism
tell-me-how-to-be spiritual books
whatever the famous someone
said once then got bronzed over

i surrendered to universal unity
where i lavishly decorated
my living changing dream
with my own snap choices

i was flowing with fresh
synergetic synthesis

returned outside to pedestrian streets
where angelics mixed in
wore transparent disguises

i began to flow
forgiveness out and in

skipped a light fandango
splashing puddles was
answer to inclement weather

i set wooden faces
to smiling after
i switched my own

i rolled on through
perceived stop signs
of the everlasting no

incinerated all my karma with
nownownow
wonwonwon

made myself
stock still

experienced
yes yes

relaxed awareness

breathed
emptiness

opened all my hands
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