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Jack R Fehlmann Dec 2013
crooked steps
just a seconds glimpse behind
perfect trail before me, each step a gift
Then in the distance I  caught sight
of something
I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun
locked embrace
and O' how completely I struggled
that entire night
and O' how the next and the next
and then the  next I tasted
betrayal O' how vivid I
I relived the scene in visions,
questioning my eyes,
wondering your motives
I focused, I tried more and more
O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,,
then much closer I witnessed
then, you whispering to the sky
then you reached up your hands
upon the full moon's face
Pulling her down from heaven,
 to your promises as you smiled
to deny us, O' I obsessed
Kissing the sun, Promising the moon,
As I watched O' I glared
O' as did I wilt
I withdraw to obscurity
Beneath cover of your growing shadow

a silouhette to follow
making chase of the impossible
I can't give up
all i do is follow,
and look , and press on ,
just to get close enough
To tell you
You are still my sun,
Though you have another
and you are my setting moon,
my unobtainable,...
and my reasoning for every step,
every mile...  
Now besought by the breadth
The severity of those betrayals
I hope you knew,
i followed and still do
coming to apprehend
my little tease,
my treasure, my liar
I give chase,
to how completely
how very far I would go
just to prove once and for all
I love you.
I shall, one day...
If and when the stars let me
they decide...
Even they see plainly my envy
As I have no mask
One motive,
Several unknown labels.
I contrast the brilliant
Silk strewn beauty once mine
Falling once, am I choosing
Leg by foot, by will and love
Outshine the sun and by this
Luna will turn it's attention
Perhaps this test of time
Practiced, lonesome patience
May one day return the gaze
Embrace in arms my desire
The only one I want and follow
My world.
UNFINISHED... but closer
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018

Let not the trails of life cast us into
the womb of despair
Let not the betrayals of Man embitter
us where we no longer trust
Understand that time on Earth is short.
It is our choice to fight the battles;
the weapons were provided.
Fight to live right, fight to live well.
And when your flame blows out
and you know Eternal Peace,
you would have won the war.
No man is perfect.
No man is a saint.
No man is a God.
Man is Man.
Know your value.
Know your worth.
Live your dreams.
Hone your crafts.
Face your fears.
It's okay to be selfish.
It's okay to make mistakes.
Don't let society eat and tear at you to the
point that it rips your very soul to shreds, and you feel like life is not worth living.
You are entitled to live, so live your best life
and let the haters stew.
But most of all believe...

I know it can be easier said than done, we're only human after all.
I do personally struggle with some of these, but I do try to stick with them.
Life's too short as it is.
When I was younger, I thought being 20 was old.
I'm 23 and man, am I so grateful to still BE here!
Just know no matter the situation, good or bad, it doesn't last forever. Do your best to live right, do your best to do right but also try to live. Many of us exist and survive.
Please live.
Be selfish in a sense that you give yourself the focus and self love that you need. That's where it all begins. ^-^
Lyn ***
Scott Chase Jul 2018
The Lord knows my needs, my thoughts, my weakness, my strength and even my heart's desire.
I only hope he hears my prayers.
Through all the troubles and heartaches, betrayals and sorrows...Yes Blessings, more than just a few.
After so many years and countless tears...Having abandoned my precious hope, holding just enough rope...
Resigning myself to being an Unworthy single man,
I set my eyes on him. No longer asking  is it this one? Or her?
Just who?
Just in time and out of the Blue...the Lord sent me You!
His answer to my Prayers.
multi sumus Sep 29
Pandora's sweet mewlings echoed throughout betrayals tormentous corridor
   LeMarchand's malefic grin reflecting the depredate and inevitable conquest...

"Are there others?"  
(chagrin as the acrid tears diminish)

   "Yes... but none such as these"

"And from here?"
(hands to quiver timorously clutching his threadbaren cloak)

(genuflect to affix her despondent gaze, with a solemn and laden sigh he replied)

    "... For it be unto the end of earth We shall rove"
Yenson Aug 2018
Commissar Dumbrov of The Red Republican Army at his desk

Grego, Grego , what is happening with the Regal in the Gulag
Is he mad yet, has he hanged himself and committed suicide

No Commissar, he is writing poetry and growing fat like a pig

Are you crazy, this is a ****** Revolution, not ******* poetry class
Did you not put him through the program.

We did Commissar, we hounded and tormented him, we persuaded his wife to break his heart, we fully destroyed his career, we isolated him, we ruined him financially, we made the proletariat hate him,
we taunted him and provoked him everywhere, we scandalized his name and reputation, we bugged him, we oppressed him, we bullied him, we made him friendless, we invaded his privacy, we mocked him and depressed him, we tried to confuse him, we mix him up. we harassed him with noise, we've terrorize him we've done everything and more. he has not been with a woman for 20 years.

AND HE'S WRITING POETRY, what a pack of ******* fools you are, that's the trouble with you ****** Proletariat, you have no brains, must be all the ****** gruel you lot eat, your ******* brains didn't develop properly, all you ******* know is how to be ***** and violent, any wonder these Elitists see you as nothing but animals. that great Leader of the Revolution wrote, I forget his name now, he wrote that the best and only way to deal with these Elitists is to attack their minds, **** up their ****** brains, make them paranoid and fearful. drive them crazy, turn them into jabba labba locos, dribbling at the mouth locos crazy,

We tried Commissar, we did all the things to make this happen, we spent a lot of time and effort on this, we used all the grape-vines and contacts we have, we even threw the Kitchen sink at him. So far, nothing.

You threw the ******* Kitchen sink at him, what's that for, the Kitchen sink belongs to the State, its not meant to be thrown at ******* Elitist Dissidents.

Its a manner of speech, Commissar.

Now you are a Comedian, are you, a ******* Revolution is going on, we are creating a Classless Society and Equality for all and you are making stupid jokes!

No Commissar, I mean we utilized all resources so far, we have continually harassed him, we have created so much disappointments, betrayals, let-downs, frustrations for him, but he still remains calm, stoical, composed, dignified, erudite and sane.
maybe its true that these people are a different breed. Its frustrating for us and quite honestly, embarrassing!.

Shut up, are you saying he's some sort of Regal Rasputin, even that ****** one, we got in the end, now you're saying this one is bullet-proof. Have you tried Advanced Slander, spread the nastiest rumors about him. So bad to make him take his own life. Who was it that said,  “Show me the man and I'll show you the crime”

It was Comrade Beria, Commissar. Yes Commissar, we have framed him many times and made thumped up allegations against him. We have done all that Commissar, we even said he walks like John Wayne or a broken crab.

Who is this John Wayne, are you a time-traveler now?

Have you tried spreading the rumor that he goes to the Cementry at night and sleep with dead women, he digs up.

No Commissar, I don't think even the stupidest Proletariat would believe that one.

Have you tried spreading a rumour he has *** with a dog.

Commissar Natashavo hasn't been anywhere near him, Commissar

Are you being funny again, Grego

No Commissar!

So what is happening right now with our Mr Invincible Elitist Poet Romanov or whatever his name is,  the MAN that you ******* useless Republican comrades, can't drive mad or make commit suicide, a simple thing, that we have done thousands of times. Why is it that when we do these things to those Class-traitor Proletariat, they die or go raving mad loco coo coo  within six months.

The Proletariat are brainless  cowards Commissar, they can dish it out but they can't take it, Commissar, that's why its so easy for us Senior Members of the Po-lit-Bureau to manipulate and control them. As regards our MAN we are still actively harassing him, we are presently mixing him up again, mentally and doing voice to skull tactics with him. We also make sure he remains frozen in a time warp. This is useful in allowing us to demonstrate to the imbecilic Proletariat that we are powerful and can control people and events, this makes sure they realize our capabilities and might and of course, fosters espirit de corps. It keeps them all in line.

Well that's good thinking Grego, yes, that's good, as regards our Poet, why don't we just blast off his *****.

We did Commissar, but he grew bigger ones!

Are you being funny again, Grego, do you want to be sent to the Gulag in Siberia to keep the Poet company.

No, Commissar, I have a date tonight with Commissar Natashavo!
Emma Jun 5
Every time I open my eyes

You break my trust


I have a hard enough time

Convincing myself

It's worth getting up in the morning

Without your quiet betrayals.

Even when you are good

I can never know.

I'm so overwhelmed with anxiety

And you've taken advantage of me

So many times

It doesn't make a difference.

I find myself wondering

If I will ever trust you again.

But I know

Of course I will.

I always do.

That doesn't mean I should.
Did you betray me this morning?

The answer at this point is

You may as well have

And you will

Every morning

Krysel Anson Sep 2018
Time passes, another
batch of refugees and migrants. Cities turn into
new houses of gambling and vicious cycles.
Some say only machines can speak clearly
and most humans have lost what they have earned
throughout all this time, just right on schedule.

To own our language,
and the relationships it sets into motion,
we learn painfully, repeatedly like sunrise
and sunsets.
Claiming our own spaces and demons
hidden in our conveniences and reflex routines,
and learning the tricks that has kept peoples
from fully healing from broken promises
and betrayals throughout time.

We own up to our language and its demons
every day and night that we toss and turn
into something feasible, edible, livable.

Iba ibang uri ng digma.
duguang kasaysayang binabaong buhay
binubura ang lakas at memorya tulad ng siyudad
ng Songdo sa South Korea na ang ibig sabihin
ay "city with no memory".

Ito din ang isa sa mga modelo para sa New Clark City
na tinatayo sa Luzon. Sa dalawahang mga pamamaraan
ng mga naghahari-harian, nakikibaka ang anakpawis,
nakikibaka ang kamalayan ng pagpapasya at pagwasto
sa mga pagkakamali, na paulit-ulit na sinusubukang
patayin sa iba ibang mukha.

Mula pa sa panahon ng mga lolo at lola noong 1940s
hanggang ngayon, patuloy ang mga pag-eexperimento nila at paggamit ng panlilinlang  at dahas, sa ngalan ng kalusugan, edukasyon at batas, upang ipain ang buhay sarili, lasunin ang lupang kinakain ang sarili. Kung hindi tayo mag-aaral at mag-iingat din, tayo mismo ang papatay sa mga sinisimulan. #
English translation to follow. Work in progress.
Alia Apr 21
I feel that sharp, painful, bitter feeling crippling through my blood and bones
Sending shivers down my spine
Something missing from my heart
Brain disconnecting from reality
Chocking on my own thoughts and memories
Deep sadness
The sweetness
The laughs
The fun
Learning and experiencing
All those special places
And faces
The disrespect
The chaos
The betrayals and discomforts
Unforgettable things
Moments gone in time
A big mash of feelings; good and bad; and happy and sad.

Empty closets
Furniture disappearing by the day
Memories and accessories packed away in a hurry
Home is nowhere to be found.
A sorrowful goodbye.

And in all that mess I've managed to let him step on what was left of my dignity and use my fragile feelings.
And I will never get to say what I needed to.
I'm moving back to my home country after living in another one for almost five years. I can't even really explain how hard it is on me. This place is so important and precious to my heart. Leaving *****. Boys **** too.

— The End —