upon being invited to add to a collection here called Brokenness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He he
** **
Ha ha

it has been awhile
that I recv'd an invitation
to add to anything
or join a club,
just like Groucho (Marx)
worth being invited to...

but when yours arrived,
I chuckled and jived,
for this broken biz
be an area of expertise,
about which I gladly can opine,
since most of which I contact,
is inevitably in that state demised,
marriage, children and other trifles

so to the topic at hand, let say but this,
if not eloquently, then perhaps,
gravely, for that is where the
broken pieces oft call home
or cemetarily. a final resting place...

perhaps you were unaware,
there are 449 poems in attendance,
where the word brokenness
doth appear
in this sanctuary of broken children
and adults too,
easy discovered in the memory of
Hello Poetry

but this will not be, I hope, the
four hundred and fiftieth
as I decided to nomenclature this oeuvre
as Brokeness, with but a single N,
since a good N
can be hard to find,
why use two
when one will do?

if a faithful ecrivant thee be,
you won't be shocked that there are
so many Brokenness in this world,
the dictionary doth recognize its multiplicity
as a word legit, accepting as a plurality*

brokennesses!

which is a whole lot of broke

so let us poets to the process repair,
with a tikkun here, a tikkun there,
a tikkun everywhere

so that the healing never ends
and that someday we will delete
all words of humanity in disrepair,
let the broken be the unbroken,
and let's all say amen
and get started...

Ogdiddynash

my keyboard is broken
like me
so some leer will be missing
hoefllly yo can ndersand
i'm broken
and like my keyboard
i'm missing things which
i can be cant be wihot
if yo can ndersand this
then maybe yor broken o
becase yo ndersand my brokeness which
is more then i ca say abot alot of eole

can you just **** my brains out
and pretend to love me?
I'd greatly appreciate the distraction
the feeling of being wanted
your affection
DEVOUR ME PLEASE
make me feel
anything

anything but this brokeness
this twisted ****

do anything you want to me
just need me
need me
need me
need me

**** the pain away
till I'm numb
till I bleed
till words ceast to exist

cause I can't stand these thoughts
**** me into oblivion

I don't want to care anymore
I don't care anymore

As I look around,   What I see are the Fragments of Man !      Some quite Large,   Some very tiny!     Some as Ripped off,  Others as carefully Taken and placed down.    Some  I recognize as Hearts,  others appear as Spirit forms.    What is common is that some seek sympathy and attention!    Others,  as if an Enticement, want you to join them.   Each think they have made an offering,   That either asks for help OR cries out that You become as them!   Amazingly,  the crowds around them,  seem to debate as to which path they should choose.   ONLY a Handful,   Promptly turn their backs and RUSH away !     BUT,   the Majority sifts thru the SHARDS,  as if shopping at a Flea Market.   Going from Table to Table to Sample the Wares!   No one Cries out that they be "Taken Away" from the pieces  of SHARDS Scattered   all about them !   RATHER,  they ask that YOU Mix in some of Yours and set up a Table ,,Right Next to them ! __    MY Heart pounds a stronger RHYTHM,   My mind racing in questions,   Can't they see The're accepting  all these broken lives as if it should Be the NORM ?     None wants to stand out as His Own,   Fearful that they would be left alone  and WHIMS desires would be left in the  cleaning closet ~having to wait for use~so~they sleep in  a Brokeness  Slumber!    As I leave this "Fixed In My Mind" SCENE.   I reach down and pick up a Small SHARD, appearing to be part of One's Soul,,     Something I "WILL" be Praying about . . . .

I grew up in the putrid decay of trauma
Trying to reconstruct the systems drama
Playing a part of victimized slaughter.
Of every word of hope I had, every laugh
Every stab, every push in the back every part of love I lack
Every piece of hate I contract. Man I'm losing track.
Keeping every Jenga piece in the stack.
And I hate the negativity I attract.
Thats why I’m trying something new.
Turning my progression into something true. Every copy, Every piece, Everything I do
Constructed into a new brand of truth
And as time is passing. Voices are still asking. Why is this white kid up here rapping.
And I ‘ll tell you why this is my passion. I hate the thought of our trauma crashing.
Making the better of us while the devil is laughing. And in a corrupt world where body’s are stacking and hurt is open traffic. And the only frequency we receive is static.  And the fact that my mom was an attic only adds comfort to my panic. This system is nerving ending. And the shock is sending a mixed wave of pending impulses. And when the action is constructed, Their only thoughts are the past your stuffed with. Gagged and fed in. The hate of what you did that you’re continuously stuck with. And no matter your current sins. You are still given the opportunity to be forgiven.
Points are misconstrued. Any question, Every answer. Anything you choose.
Lets pick one to re-construe.
Our systems are filled with hate. Abuse to recreate. Siblings are disconnected.
And our worlds are fed with the continuous negativity within our media that our minds our sent with.
Peace within the races is drifted apart. And theres no light in the dark. Only bodies of morals that were taken from the start. Blood fashioned into a negative art. There’s racial divide right where the lines are. And the distance of peace is mile like far. Crimes committed every hour by the powered while someone innocent is arrested every hour. And when the diverted posture of hate is playing a part to keep our mouths sour. Eyes are closed. Centuries of neglect rose. And hatred is like fire ready to emerge from the stove. And our ideas of morals are completely distorted. Warped and contorted. Flooded with the pattern of systematic blood. Ideas of change are purposely adverted. Not enough pineal glands Removed  from the skin when the knife is inserted. The system designed to keep us devoured. Within the difference of civil slavery and power. You want something to pray about. What about the neglect of the deaths of the ones who are left. And yet we are still having *** with the devil, who is the one to meddle with our lively hood.  And yet those things aren’t understood. The first thing to truth being unearthed is.  
The possibility of the word ‘could’. And then change can finally give birth.

My stomach rolls at the thought of you,
it is a feeling as pleasant as you are-
You with your sharp eyes and upturned nose,
you who has no flaw.

A man named Frankenstein made something much like you;
a creature so perfect
-and yet, when it rose, ghastly and disfigured
there was some beauty in it.

You- you are no such creature
you are a hollowed shell
void of love and understanding.
You have not known rejection, loss
      self-loathing
and to see my brokeness was a shock.
To watch me crumble appalled you,
-you turned away
and rejected me as the creator - the created.

Though my heart is fashioned
of borrowed and broken pieces
I am not your monster.
I raised myself from the dead
-and after you- from the dirt.
You- you my dear doctor;
parading the flaws of others
as a grotesque banner
-it screams:
"I am perfect"

Was I more satisfying to break?
Did my will to fight terrify,
inspire such hatred,
that you could no longer stand the sight
of a girl set ablaze?

My stomach lurches - you stand at my grave
dear Frankenstein, do you regret?
She is not there.
She died.
It is only I who remain

You do not see the
            B                      r
                                                     O          K
                               E                        N
                                                                ­    E               s                     S
She has succumbed to.

You do not see how    
                   A    b
                               a   n
                                         d o
                                                  n e d
she has become.

You barely know her yet you can tell that the smile she plasters on is

                     F          A
                                                K   ­         E


Her life has slowly become a sea of

D                     I
            S                        a                S         ­       
                              t                 e                    R           S

It feels like I've been endlessly cutting my wrist,
'cause of my negligence to tend to my wounds.
The very wounds that bleed these words and agony.

Now as my pride gives me immortality,
this brokeness is my eternal damnation,
an endless torture,
a neverending attempt for suicide
with no death.

With you,
I feel like my brokeness wears a disguised mask,
it doesn’t protrude out like splinters and spears
right through my rib cage where
thorn ladden tendrils grow, with everyone else.

With you,
I feel less broken.
Maybe even whole again.
Like I used to be.

I am broken, I been through some hardships.
I have felt earthly love and lost it as well.
I felt lonely, alone, and lost as well in my life.
But I have felt true love as well from God.
I may feel lonely at times but our God is real hope.
As long as there is hope there is life within you.
I yet know that is there a chance to have it.
A normal life with a woman that was chosen for me.
At the very beginning of the creation of the earth.

Dark Circles beneath her eyes
The fire in those eyes
now replaced by sadness
of knowing too much
Of trying too hard
.
.
the more she saw,
the less she knew
the more she tried,
the less things worked
She kept *restlessly brooding
why the world is so raNdom
and what if the littlest thing that she did
made it fall apart?
.
.
tick-tock
(Restless brooding)
A girl of 17
never felt safe in her own skin
She comes in all the shades of self-loathing

(Restless brooding)
Living a life of mediocrity
Good, but never the best
not worth the change in your pocket.

(Restless brooding)
Centre of the group,
her smile was just that contagious
Chased by many, understood by none
Always loved mystery,
maybe that's why she became one

(Restless brooding)
Red is the color of rust that calms her
Jagged cut across her thighs
She comes with a self-destruct button and hence pushes away the very thing she likes
she wants to decrease the casualities

(Restless brooding)
Sleep won't come easily to her
so she writes and reads
that's pretty much her life
by the window she cries
for the characters whose brokeness resembles her life
but if you ask her why
she'll evade vaguely

(Restless brooding)
She increases the volume of her headphones
to mute the voices in her head
voices which try to drag her to the past
a past she'll never get rid of

(Restless brooding)
with every second that passes by
she pushes the world a little more far away
but she always smiles
so that must mean she's okay, right?

Dark circle beaneath her eyes
because *she spends her night
talking to the stars
and conspiring with the moon
against the demons she herself has created
trying to find the key
to the lock she has chained around herself

And one day she will
one day she will realise
*her light can't be contained
and those dim eyes will shine again
One day she will not be afraid of being herself
even if she does not know who she is yet

A litre of hot tears fall from angry eyes..
But never it reduces the fire inside of me....
If the heavy falling rain could fight the forest fire...
Why couldnt my tears do just the same...?
Just because I come out strong,
doesnt mean there is nothing wrong.
Smiling has always been easier to fake...
Rather than to explain the Burn in 0ne's Heart ???
Every tear is a sign of brokeness,
every silence is a sign of loneliness,

I always smile and shed a secret tear...
Wishing it heals my internal scars...
I went in the rain and i walked in the dark...
Who says water helps in putting of fire?
My eyes do not show anymore tears may be..
But in my heart is heavy downpour....
How come the fire is there .. its still there...

Its the fire burning inside of me ... its burning.. burning hot..
I wish each drop of salty tear would erase the flame....
For I promise myself would never to cry again.....
Would it be worth to shed a tear of mine ever again?

Each drop of a tear is precious ...then anything in the world
No one knows its true value for they ‘ve not learnt the pain...
I hide a tear and pretend to smile...
My body is trembling my heart is burning... .....
You wouldn't know how it feels...
To have to hide a tear....
Not until you have it in your own eyes for someone so dear..

I laid on my bedroom floor and sunk my face into my elbow. There was nothing. No sound. No movement. There was Blackness. I was engulfed, I did not feel my heart and I did not feel my lungs. Time went on, unscathed, but I remained in the Black. I do not know anything. I do not know who came in my room. I do not know what they said. I do not know what I said. The jarring crash of a constant sound kept pulling me away. Every labored second time bore forth, I was unaware. I had gone somewhere so far that I was nowhere. The dust lined the back of my throat. Then I knew everything. I desperately wandered around looking for the Black. I had no provision but the Black. I had been unaware. Perfectly unaware. But I could not find the Black. So I was aware: no salt ever was so tasteless, no liquid was ever so dry. No pain was ever so miniscule, no mucus was ever so breathable. No, there was nothing. Not in the Black.This prejection of perfection, I could not emulate. I close my eyes and there was black. It had ears, a mout, eyes, a nose, and touch. There was a pit in the middle of my soul, somewhere between the bottom of my rib cage and my pants. I tried to find the Black there, but it was gone. Instead there was grinding and crashing. There was color. There was noise. I was refusing to really acknowledge it. There was aching and burning; there was pressure and banging. There was blue and there were barbells. There was a bed; a Bible and many books. There were bandaids and bottles and bows and bespeckled things. There was a blue monster and blue shirt. There was blue gatorade and black cords, and there was black shoes and black clothes. But there was no Black. There was brokeness and bruises; beige and bumps.There was a bunny and beauty products; a balustrade and a bathroom door. But there was nothing, and with it was no Black.

You're the muse behind my every song
You're what connects this body to its soul
The darkest of nights find its dawn in you
You are the eye of the most ferocious storm

Oh, love i think it's time
Oh, love, won't you be mine?
Oh, love, can't you just see
I want the world to see you be with me

You're the goosebumps i get in the middle of the night
You're what the stars have been telling me about
The shyest of flowers bloom at your touch
You are the hope that keeps the fragile thread  by which my sanity hangs from breaking apart

Oh love, I think it's time
Oh, love won't you be mine
Oh, love, can't you just see
I want the world to see you be with me

You are the brokeness that heals itself
You are the words that i have been looking for all along
The most endurable concrete cracks and sprouts where you walk
You are the love that only results from a great deal of suffering

Oh love, I think i it's time
Oh, love won't you be mine
Oh, love, can't you just see
I want the world to see you be with me

did she make a home in the spaces between your ribs too?

2. i have still have your sweatshirt. it doesnt smell like you anymore. its okay though, i smell it every time i dream.

3. i miss looking in your eyes and seeing the galaxy.

4. they say you get a new layer of skin every 7 years and i cant wait to have skin you havent touched.

5. i miss you. i ******* hate you but i miss you.

6. i still have bruises, they just arent surface level anymore.

7. do you ever think of me anymore? today i saw a sweater that i'd know you'd love. i wonder if its the same for you.

8. i hope someone hurts you like you hurt me. karma is a ***** after all

9. you're so broken but so am i. we could of took our pain and made it into something beautiful, a mosaic of brokeness.

10. today i smiled and my eyes smiled too and its the beginning of finally moving on from you.

Take a look,
A good look,
And tell me what you see...
What DO you see when you look at me?

Do you see beauty?
Do you see intelligence?
Do you see hope?
What Do you see?

Take a look at me,
I bet you don't truly see me,
The person I try not to be,
Do you see?

See the scars on my wrist,
See the brokeness of my heart,
See the fear in my eyes,
Do you see?

See the hurt that's left behind,
From years passed,
To years to come,
Look at me.

See me for who I truly am,
Because who I am...
Is a fighter,
And a warrior.

I fight everyday,
To keep from what people say,
I fight to keep myself here,
I fight to live another day.

I fight the urge to cut,
To over dose,
To drink,
To smoke.

I'm a warrior,
I have been through hell,
Breaking inside,
A little each day.

I've fought for escape,
I've fought for love,
I've fought for forgiveness,
I've fought for understanding.

So look at me,
And tell me,
What do you see?
Do you see the real me?

I am broken, I been through some hardships.
I have felt earthly love and lost it as well.
I felt lonely, alone, and lost as well in my life.
But I have felt true love as well from God.
I may feel lonely at times but our God is real hope.
As long as there is hope there is life within you.
I yet know that is there a chance to have it.
A normal life with a woman that was chosen for me.
At the very beginning of the creation of the earth.

I want to turn back the hands of time
****** the founding fathers of pain
Let her dream dreams the induce diabetes
Remove the scars that never fade
Mend the brokeness in every heart
I just dont want to see her feel pain
Or see the tears in her eyes
She is too young for this
How do you expect her to survive
In a world intent on killing her
I want to turn back the hands of time
****** the founding fathers of heartbreak
To keep her alive
To keep her head up high
And look at the world
In an optimistic way
I am tired of her tears
The constant fear
That she will amount to nothing
She wonders if she is enough
She hopes for a friend
With outstretched arms of comfort
With shoulders soft but strong
So she can find sanctuary and solace
I want to turn back the hands of time
****** the founding fathers of hope
Because every night she hopes
That in the morning her sorrow will be gone
She hopes for that knight in shining armor
To take her far beyond the castle walls
To break the shackles of poverty
Guide her into the land of the prosperity
Heal the wounds that still bleed
Her hopes are what **** her everyday
Does no one care
Can anyone but me see
That her pain, her broken heart, her hopes
Have been slowly killing her
For quite some time now
Somebody help her
Somebody save her
I cant do it
I am not strong enough
No prince charming
Im just trying to find a way
To turn back the hands of time
And ****** the founding fathers
Of everything that has been the reason
She contemplates suicide every night
Because I love her
Not romantically
But in a way not many could understand

I know they say when one door closes another opens
But I'm forcing gravity down with the weight of my regrets
I refuse to let the door that allowed you into my heart to close
You say I'm not pretty
So I broke every mirror in my house
To keep from seeing the reflection of a used up depressed teenager
Because who would want a girl with so much brokeness

Raw Love.
One day I know, love like ours will grow
that one day will be real soon,
under that cheery moon~

Full Moon and me
Kisses the woman in me don't you see
In the moon where you rise
Dancing in the Velvet devise~

You will hold me and make it right
all the brokeness will fit together... and stick

Dream thoughts of you
In that magic wrought of thee
Heart aches searches behold
Enmeshed within you and me~

Echoes of emptiness was in my soul
Crying for your love in one more light
Windless moons more to come and control
The sight in the breeze of the moon bright nights~

Without you I will die
Like All is dead within the moon
I cry and cry within your site
Holding me within your might~

Kisses I will always remember
Touches I am told
Will be to much to behold
The moon so full of heartaches and so bold~

Love me, I beg once more
Let the moon shine so bright
And let the love be this night
Passion of love and moon delight
My darling, hold me with all your might
and make my pieces stick together
in our raw love and make it better.~

Debbie

BROKEN is not a term of endearment
Rather it is used to deter
Don't buy that it's BROKEN
Something's wrong with her she's BROKEN

BROKEN is a term for things and not people
It conveys a need to be fixed
Our scars and bruises have made is whole
We aren't BROKEN, but reborn through every pain, every loss, and every trial.

We have learned through our BROKENess that others struggle too and maybe we can see that if everyone is BROKEN
Perhaps the word BROKEN can mean something new.

Maybe EDUCATED, WISE, STEADFAST, and LEARNED.
Could it be STRONGER or FIERCE are the words that we've earned.
Whatever your word live it out in embrace.
Leave that BROKEN word lonely far away with no trace.

I saw her crying before,
It was beautiful. She was pleading for her child.
Intercessing for her to come back into the Master's arms.
There, there she goes again.
Pouring her heart out onto the Master's ear.
He loves the purity of her brokeness,
The fine quality of her pain.

Under the glades of the Master's gardens she knelt and pleaded once more.
She held in her arms one of her daughters who swam in the Sea of Flesh only to surface out and bear another.
She reached out her hand "Come, child. No use chasing after the flesh made of muscle and blood. Come child, come join your mother."
Her child reached the surface, drenched in regret. The days were filled with hope or the lack thereof.
She was lured by the pleasures of the seas, hiding under the guise of love.

But amidst all that, all Mother had for her was a blanket of warm compassion. Dismissing hot cups of condemnation everyone else had to offer. And she embraced her.
Back in the Master's garden she gave all her troubles at the foot of the Master's tree and stood up relieved of burden.
She faces another day, welcoming doubters and the troubled with arms wide open. Then again she lays it down on the foot of the Master's tree, for lives kept from ruin, for hearts not to harden.

I saw her crying before, and there she comes again. Together we sat and plead before our Master's feet. Running in wounded, rising up healed.
I saw her crying before, it was beautiful. I saw how she plead for herself, purging and redemption.
The world tried to take her out, but she only came back stronger every single time.
If you saw her crying then, it'll break you. She was torn and it was dreadful.
But from nothing she went up from glory to glory.
I saw her crying again, it was beautiful.

Maybe im not as healed as i thought i was
anger wells up inside of me
as i ease through my memories that i have so longingly tried to erase
denial and shame have driven me away
"they loved me, so they wouldn't hurt me"
is what i used to so innocently feel
but now i dig for meaning of my past
and i see what is real
the brokeness was all around me
those who hurt me were hurting too
only a band-aid could cover the pain temporarily
but then its ripped off with every scorn or reality that is spit at me
"how am i supposed too help others if i cant help myself"
is what i think now
am i pitying myself
am i being sensitive like i have always been
i feel that nobody understands
neither do i
i cant escape the pain, anger, and shame
i hold inside

Someone sent me a candy gram the other day.
I marveled at the anonymous note
And cherished it for the rest of the day.
I put it in my bookbag,
Getting ready to bring it home
Just to cherish it even more.

When I got home,
I found it broken and at the bottom of my bag
The way whoever sent this to me will probably do to me...

I tasted a tiny peice, spat it out.
It was too sweet,
The way your love might be
After you broke me.
You'd try to put me back together,
The way I am trying to put this candy gram together,
But it wont ever work.
Whats been broken is broken,
And cant be fixed.
Its just a matter of accepting the brokeness and living with it.

she was 10 ,
and love was measured in bruises
in her house ,
and when father got home from
work
she and her brother would race to find
the best hiding place .
her tears picking up pace with each
foot step that she heard .
she wouldn't dare to utter a word as she saw
his shoes , too close to her face .
she hid under the bed ,
hoping that springs and sheets
were enough to keep her safe .

she caught a glimpse of her brothers toes ,
sticking out from the space under the closet door .
father moved toward him ..

she felt herself **** in a breath .

father would skin him
and wear him with pride
and fold him upon a wire hanger with the
rest of the
coats
in that closet .
........
that night , they counted up their cuts and scars and bruises and brokeness ,
and decided that they had collected just enough to move away .
and so ,
they packed blankets
and apples ,
and not oranges because they were both allergic ,
and 5 nickles and 7 pennies she had been saving up for a doll ..
and they snuck out the front door ,
but they both hardly thought of it as sneaking
because father was sleeping with a shine in his skin
and shine in a bottle that was at his fingertips .

they crossed the street
and a light , so bright smacked their vision ,
came at them before they knew it was a light .
but they awoke in clean jeans and white t-shirts
with their backpacks still on their backs -
feeling as light as air , and walking on clouds .
someone had spit-shined the roads --
they seemed to sparkle like gold .
and mother was at the end of the glittering path ,
smiling that angel smile she always had on in the mornings
before the morning when they dressed all in black .
they looked about to see gates made of mother's necklaces ,
and smelled the sea salt
and knew they were

**home .

When Im feeling like a Neglected Soul
The Presence Of The Most High Becomes Increasingly Mighty and Bold.
The Holy Spirit becomes So Strong that  My Flesh is overthrown and it knocks me Out cold.
I'm no longer in Control. The Messiah Overtakes and has a hold.
Upon entering into a Stillness
And Engaging at the Beauty of such realness
I can hear and feel this.....
Pure Silence, Peace and quiet.
Encountering this blissful moment in private.
In this place of dwelling
Here,  His grace and mercy is never failing
Here, His Unconditional Love abides
A place where Only God Resides.
A spiritual Realm
where in your loving arms is the Only place I can be found
Where I can leave behind the world and worries and enter into The Great escape.
In your spiritual agape, You My potter, mold me into shape.
This is a place that is hidden
Beyond Earth in another dimision
Even with my eyes Closed He still gives me vision.
A place where I'm drifting thru time and gracefully floating space.
This is our secret Place.
The place where I am safe and secure.
Now realizing All the Things I had to endure was for my personal growth so I could Mature.
Dimishing my mind and heart of the stress
Casting all my cares upon you in Exchange for my Rest.
You took away my brokeness
in exchange for soulfulness and wholesomeness.
Surely I am Blessed.
Happily, I give you Gratitude and Thankfulness!
Yahweh Is The Best.

the wound in my chest
hurts so bad
i think its the worst
ive ever had

all day everyday
i hurt inside
it is so hard
for me to hide

then you come along
and you see
the brokeness
inside of me

you heal my heart
and now i am
better than ive
ever been

now i go out
and i dont hurt
what you have done
you dont know what its worth