BJ Donovan Mar 5
Jack Daniel's

We bought a broken dog
and took him to our broken home
to live with this broken family.
We tried to fix him with broken
training. I was too broken to get
it right. The more I yelled the more
broke he got. I had a drunken insight
one evening walking him in a full moon.
He reminded me of me in my childhood.
I saw things through his broken eyes
and held him close. I promised I'd fix us.
I adopted myself from a dog shelter.
Poetoftheway Aug 5
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)



<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save the child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Last time I was here I was waiting
For the perfect storm to come
I saw it from the cafe
And under lightning, I had to run
As the porcelain lay broken
Under the feet of weary eyes
Last time I was here I was waiting
For somebody to make me cry

Last time I was here I was burning
Under strangely colored lights
If only I did some learning
From all the previous wasted nights
And as I tried to forget the voices
That never seem to go away
Last time I was here I was burning
But I tell everyone I'm okay

Last time I was here I was broken
Like I've never been before
I can still smell the smoke and,
I can still hear the door
But as I still remember
All the things from before
Last time I was here I was broken
I'm not broken anymore
The chains have now been broken
From this place of no return
Your voice still echoes to this day
In the corridoors of our minds ,
Destiny now stands in wait
You took away our joy
But now the tide has turned
from your cold world now outside.
Your words they have faded
Along with your demands
Now you have gone the pain will heal ,
Those grusome cells they  are open
We will leave those days behind
You have no hold of  the fears
You created deep inside ,
Your doors have closed for the last time
Freedom is there and we move on
Far away from your prison bars.
That feeling of being set free from oppression
In its many forms .
AIA Feb 2016
It was the last ache,
It was the last cry,
the last teardrop,
the last love.
It was the last pain that I will feel.
the feeling's gone.
Or so I thought.
I just thought it was the last night that I will feel the pain.
Does my life want to end itself
I know I'm not one to have these thoughts given a bubbly personality
But every day it seems my life drifts farther from reality
I cry
I scream
      to no one

Maybe if they find me leaking out the back of my skull
They will look back to find signs they know would tell
But there were no signs
I'm that good


Every waking moment tests my grip
As my eyes twitch my mind slips

I've lived a life of shattered smiles
Broken songs
Fucked up lies
But I put back the pieces so well every morning no one can tell
I'm that good
For all worried
I'll tell you don't worry
It's just poetic
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