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Neath Oct 2014
She and I are cut from the same branch, from the same tree,
planted in the same soil.

There's not much difference between her and I.

The time that is spent with her seems to play out like a scene from a theater.

With her on the other side of the small table as we
sip away from the same ice cream float.

When we're done, she grabs my hand and drags me to the
place where happiness is always worn.

The amusement park.

She shows me the bright carousal in the center
of the park.

This is her special place and she wants to share it with me.

As we ride the colorful horse,
my eyes meet her gaze of infatuation.

After the ride she decides to drag me to go get some
cotton candy.

My hands and lips are sticky from the cotton candy.

My eye meet her constant gaze of infatuation.

It's the end of and we both lay in a tuffle of grass,
holding each others hands.

As I turned towards her, our eyes meet for the last time.

*"Thank you for the memories of cotton candy pink"
Thank you for the memories...
Carly Salzberg Sep 2010
I imagine you a bloodcurdling scene,
with your
avant-garde of conscious stream
slaying syntax
smearing words
like the battered wife
whose entity shadows identity.
and your rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
revolves a continuous, endless carousal
repeating controversies
without just end,
just being
oh, You voodoo Queen of rare success
how does this convince the modernist?
An ode to my favorite poet, Gertrude Stein
Maple Mathers Jan 2016
She frolicked through trouble, and dandled with mischief. Alison Wonderland; everything I wished I was and so much more. Ever emanating her doe-eyed façade; proclaiming our jests mere “mischief.”
Yet, an unspoken verdict (Foretaste? Conception? Notion?) had cloaked the truth: wickedness rippled beneath our parade.
I nuzzled her contours; my peripheral eye – nailed to her profile, her blueprints, her chassis. I stalked her mirage – dancing with vapor.
She glissaded about, no fool to my truth, varnishing my mantle.
I belonged to Alison: perpetually at her side. Our couplet became a “we.” So, We regretted nothing. We veered for the pyre: caroming(skimming?) those embers alit with vice.
She narrated my mental seminar. Discarding my dogmas to uphold her own; and thus, my mind was hers.
My mind was her mind.
Alison made heads turn, and mouths water, as we sidled – hand in hand – down the street. She was my Christmas morning: each colloquium – giftwrapped with finesse. She personified paradise, she illustrated utopia. Hatching our Carnival; netting us, enamored, sidling the Carousal. We’d skim, we’d sail, her halo – my fossil. Her lips, her eyes, her hands… they echoed the innocence of a child. Niave, innocent, and giftwrapped in wonder.
Little Miss Wonderland: my very own fairytale. She was mine alone; she was mine to keep.
Did I want her, or did I want to be her?
Alison Wonderland.
Her aura – so celestial – paralleled my prose. When she banished my husk – Maple Thatcher – I cackled good riddance… And I grew a new personality to accommodate her own.
For, without Ali – devoid of our we – I doubted the very existence of me.
On my composition, she bestowed rhythm. She gave tune to my silence; her chimes, her cadence. My ink was her song – fusing a symphony. A symphony of Alison: the melody to solidify our tryst.
My mind was her mind.
And yet… somehow, I missed a carriage – or two – aboard her train of thought. For, the same felon spiting my existence, was the angel I loved to life. Gladly, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew Maple down.
Fused against Alison, I needed none of Maple.
Carnival infatuations…

Alison Wonderland.
(Carnival Infatuation)

(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016.)
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
"Every survivor of ****** assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported."

Rainwater of
the Elysian fields,
you assuredly do
like to drown your winged heroines?
You write them as strange
bitter narratives,
spurious to the calling
or as a bit of
bloodletting go.

The history formed around either
her breaking at the seams
upon the witching hour,
and her own home village
pillaging her claims
in the bonfire;
Or the arcane notion
no woman shall give testimony
against a neighbor
on the occasion he's a man.

Yes, she cried 'no' at the temple gate
Yes, she repeated such entreaties
But she'd also been into the ale
and wore an overtly
fetching carousal dress
you incensed.
Let her dam break
Let her try and flood us over
you mocked.
She was only a wayfaring angel
one reckless bird of passage
What type of wounds
could she inflict?

How easily you lost sight
of her will & halo
becoming stronger than fright.
Down she poured in antipathy,
until covering your gaping mouth!
It wasn't rain that killed you,
for you were the rain,
it was her blood calling out
that finally did you in...
When it comes to ****** assault and/or harassment, a woman's voice needs to be listened to and believed.

Inspired by the poem "Dark Sky, One Star," by fellow HP writer Ashly Kocher.
falling into subterranean sleep, I notice such blackness
   bypasses a pinprick of light; dreams are avenues
   to enigmas presenting themselves as someone forgotten.
sleep laves labyrinths with incandescent sequins.
    everybody is strange here, interlocutor commune,
still yet nothing I can understand – better be braille, or
    contrapuntal dance, but still you uttered nothing;
your locutionary silence seeks no contentment.

                                           i have never heard such riot
of laughter toss me out of sleep. perhaps it was our undoing,
   our deepest, secretive entrails unloosen us in such fashion
   worth depicting as obscenely courageous, the width
of arm-span the size of outstretched islands, and stepping into
   that particular wideness, are my small feet traipsing
   swiftly throbbing in the heat of choosing:
to go      or     to stay – cyclic spectacle that eschews
            dailiness that I know I may have forgotten you in faces
of lampposts, the pared skin of onion, the gleaming washlines,
     the white feral on the rooftops, a blank piece of paper,
            a munificent Bulacan sky, or any sky at that since
they are all bleached and they arrive not with wind but
    with lashes: the color of white that flagellates, that blinds,
        that oscillates in space which is then reduced to the
     back of my hand: I know this. I know all of this.

                                                we were not naked, yet something
         buried in the skin reveals itself disarmed, mumbling
             an earnest palaver of questions I have no answers for.
                     what happened? where are we? should we just – die?
                                   an echoing reverb, or simply a song – a metronomic
          carousal of swan-song I have heard before persists
                            and maybe all this time,
                                                       we have been awake, in separate cities.
The darkness always feels so calm
before the dawn comes to life.
A beam of light
that ends the night,
but we move on...

Paper boats sail down the street
til' they're swallowed from underneath.
When we capsize
it'll change our lives
but we move on...

Our lives are all the living we get,
so don't waste your days with regrets.
We all make mistakes
trying to do things great
then we move on...

This land has been ***** by time,
divided by our borderlines.
We all clash our swords
and **** our lords.
then we move on...

It's a system for the greedy men,
while others die in suffering
If I could I would
and I feel I should
but we move on...

All they want is for us to conform;
to wear a smile with our uniform.
Life's a carousal
that spins us all
but we move on...

I'm trying hard to concentrate,
as the stars begin to constellate.
We'll connect the dots
and the truth will shock.
then we'll move on...

A people who bury their dead,
showing compassion without turning their heads.
But will all that love
send us up above,
when we move on?

And as the clouds roll in with the rain
it carries those boats down to the drain.
We all love to float,
til we've lost all hope.
*then we move on...
this was originally a song, I suppose it still could be.
Sam Oct 2016
Around and around,
there is no end.
Just continues forever
When I was a little girl,
I loved spinning.
Rides at the park,
the slides took me on an adventure.
I would twirl around,
Just to feel my long hair blow in the wind.
Dancing, Singing, and Enjoying.
That is what I used to think.
Now circles are different.
I'm falling over, tumbling down.
I am no longer enjoying,
I get nauseous, I can't handle.
I'm getting dizzy by my thoughts,
When can I get off this carousal of confusion?
I prayed,
a silent prayer  
my eyes open and heavy on him,
settling like dust on his edges
dancing like the soft sputtering kisses
of the candle light
beside our bed.

Feeling safe in the shadows and light
that play all along him,
across the celestial lay of his skin
and parade behind his eyes
I prayed.

A silent prayer to empty skies
to the soundless indifferent void
To the absents of god
That I have always known
I prayed.

A silent prayer deep behind my personal truths,
Just in case i'm wrong
just in case he is  right
silently in still of night
I prayed
"thank you, for him.

for the carousal of his mind
and fire in his chocolate eyes,
for the warmth in his smile.
Thank you for his devotion
and his sharp sincerity.  

thank you for the solar system
rest
upon my arm,
enigmatic, polarized and stunning.
grin induced heart beat thrumming,

thank you

for my goodnight and loving morning.
For the way he takes my hand
at night when he kneels to pray.

For all of this
If you exist
I need to say
I thank you."
Emma Amme Mar 2015
You hold me together the way bobby pins keep the hair out of my face. Keeping the distractions hidden from my eyes.

Spinning me in circles, except not like a carousal, but like a blender, slicing me into pieces at the same time.
Hannah Joy Sep 2014
My thoughts are turbulent.
Like a clothes dryer, round and round –rumbling.
At night, these thoughts become a hurricane.
Dark clouds congregating within the spectrum of my mind.
A drizzle quickly turns into a heavy downpour,
Engulfing my sanity.
It’s as if I am consumed in flickering flames of orange and yellow.
They are dancing around in my head,
Burning my stability in its path.
Reflections of my life are rippling towards me.
Who I was, who I am…
The floorboards are creaking under the weight of all this pain I am carrying
This carousal ride is continuous,
My mind is spinning and everything is becoming dazed.
My thoughts are turbulent.
Like a clothes dryer, round and round –rumbling.
Maya Caroline Dec 2012
my essence and my being
my awakened spirit within my soul
my fire and air
my despair and my desires

the carousal in head
spinning round and round
the  pendulum  in my mind swaying
back and forth
back
and forth
back
and forth
keeping me in balance
keeping me in place
with you

Which is all I ever want to be
Ashley Rodden Jun 2014
Between the lines
I see nothing but doubt
You tell me one thing but really believe
Something else yet
You want me to trust
You want me to give continually and
I want to believe every lie you tell me
But I just can't let my heart fully trust
The guise you hide yourself under
Just take all your wasted honor
With all your past frustration and problems
End them with explanation points
While you walk around like a one man army
Fighting regret with all it's fury
Reliving the same old moments in your head
You fear so much, the giving in
Tell me you never loved her or anyone but me
Then let me read about her in all your poetry
Your faith has been broken
And your eyes are shut tight while you
Walk down the realm making no sense to yourself
Caught up in the fight
Hooked on a substance that's digging its claws deeper
While the pity penetrates your skin
So sensitive it makes you sicker
The salt enters your wounds
Never letting your fear heal itself fully,
Consumed
You become a comfortable liar
Ignoring the loss of sight with
All the suffering kept within you
Inside the negativity is starting to rust
Healing has to begin in the past
So stop trying to fake what really exists
Drunk again your ego has grown
So big now it swallows you whole
You would rather be tossed to the side
Feeling your life has made no sense or sound
Thinking  it's a waste of time to chase the truth now
Left with no way of knowing if you'll ever be at home
Never wanting to be alone
You need to open up your eyes
You've been flying like a jet plane that's about to wreck
Switching lanes like you're racing a corvette
Hitting on all the girls who love to have ***
Wondering if the devil is a lie
Wondering if God really exists
Pondering what is death if life's just a *****...
It's time to save yourself
Because the tide is rising high
It's time for you to sink or swim
Or be just another man overboard abandoning his ship
Just let the bridges burn
Forgive what has been done
Throw up all the lies inside
Nail yourself to the cross because
Living costs everyone a price
Don't feel so sorry for mistakes you've made
along the way
You're father told you not to bite your tongue and you
Hate your mother because she left you with no love
Wanting to wrap your hands around her throat
Squeezing until you can feel no pulse
Wanting her to pay the price for betraying you
You have bottled it up and swept it under the rug
All good things must come to an end
And we live in a world where it seems like evil always wins
The lobbyist, pessimist, cynical hypocritical mess with a
Self destruct personality
Not dealing well with the responsibility of reality
Always walking on the verge
Killing yourself but not admitting you're a murderer
Don't let this be the only thing that matters in your life
When everything around you has failed
Who knows what the future may bring
Because eventually the truth will always prevail itself
It's moments like these where you really have to think
About the broken dreams that you sold along the way
Like riding on a carousal
Thought you had it all figured out
But have spent most your life
Addicted to the pain you cause yourself
Nolan Minnix NEC Jul 2023
I keep my life in a over night bag
I need to be medicated so I won’t feel sad
I want off of the carousal
I got sold a ticket headed straight to hell
Oh these days I just feel like ****
I’m so simpleminded I’m an idiot
I don’t wanna die but don’t get me wrong
They say life is short but Iv been like this for way to long

So set all sails at half mass
Ill someday get there but not so fast
I’m to Blame for all my mistakes
I’m sick of sappy memories leaven me with the shakes
You know I love you but I’m not the one
You can definitely tell I’m my fathers son

I don’t want to be here so don’t act surprised
I had a dream we’re I actually died
The word of death leaves with a awful taste
I just wish for my memory’s to be erased
I want to disappear find something new
But I don’t want to disappoint all of you

So set all sails at half mass
Ill someday get there but not so fast
I’m to Blame for all my mistakes
I’m sick of sappy memories leaven me with the shakes
You know I love you but I’m not the one
You can definitely tell I’m my fathers son
Grace Jordan May 2017
In a dream, in a life, in a future yesterday, the world is completely different from one lily-pad step I took on the fourth of May. 21 years spent ogling these maybes, these otherwheres, these fantastical infinite people and these wild infinite loves and intense infinite failures I could have had. I spend much time pondering them, but never wistfully, just thoughtfully. I regret none of the nowhere I am, so I wouldn't wish it away, but because of my reckless mind I wonder regardless of reason and logic.

But today, I wondered what if I stopped letting myself wonder and started letting myself dream.

I spent most of those maybe 21 years locked in a tower were maybes were the only hopes I had. But, below the tower as I now am, maybe maybe isn't all I have anymore. Maybe yes can be my new maybe. Maybe why not can be it.

As a writer, by condition i ask what could have been, what maybe could happen, but I struggle with why nots. With the bravery of a careening carousal ride or the average person of my age. I have let an inkling suspection that the world may **** me deter from all adventure. I've worked on it, but the acidic pinpricks on my skin make me cower like all alien-fearers should.

But funnily, I feel like an alien. So why not brave the danger by brandishing a hook and baring my own blood?

Today, I listed all the maybes I could be, and decided I should try some. Maybe I won't do them all. Maybe I'll hate them. But maybe I shouldn't give a ****. Maybe I should stop looking back and seeing all the turns I took that culminate in a loss of some wild experience, and look towards what is happening and see the maybes that lie before me.

Maybe I could have been a crack addict. Maybe I could have fallen in love with a different him/her. Maybe I could have drunk acid and be staring at my skeleton bones from the smooth waters of hell.

But  didn't.

So maybe, instead, I could be a yoga lover, and maybe my hair could be green, and maybe i could get over my fears of being even a little bit cool.

Just maybe.
olivia marie Apr 2019
my sins are destroying me
tearing at me piece by piece,
all my mistakes and my hopes
my hopes that reach up to the sun like Icarus on wax wings,
destined to burn up in the cosmos and send me plummeting
round and round i go on this carousal of my demons
its all in my head but i cant stop it
maybe next time i just wont fly so high
Graff1980 Dec 2017
The ride is
a sickly set of statues
circling,
an ornate beauty
of predictable movements.

A carousal of fools,
stallions set stern in silence,
a caravan
of unwilling men
and women
that never stride
outside
the pre-ordained.

I watch them
still as mannequins,
eye set in the same positions,
seeing and thinking
the same thing.
They do not listen to
or hear the words I sing
when I try to bring
them their freedom.

The circle stops,
plastic bodies drop.
Paint chipped
they all dip
and rise no more
as I go on to explore
everything, alone.
Descending upon a barren desolate wasteland
a true zone of infinity
and depth one sees the crutch one
carries into the ocean of plenitude
and gluttons bearing torches
snigger under death breath
breath death
smoking cigarettes
in the carousal of fools.

The carnival of errors,
Life itself.
"WE therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into
corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body..."

I am hundred years dead
And the water is dread wide —
Hunch I my head against the wind
Straight from the shoulder, H/E angst,
But goes my algorithm awry —
Memory nipped my insanity yesternight...
... ... Mortified right I was;
Ain't cotton to lovers for years...no...
Could slip they my pious sleep away
By a little sleight of hand...
Love is a briny deep, but sets at the shore,
Vaporizing the Vistavision — and

How all the dreams that sound subdued,
   Not to be assayed and to be limited not,
Follow the spells of fatuity's skill sorcerous —
   From the cradle to the pyre
Chased I the broken velvet sky; let  
   The sacred shudder to ask what toxins they contain;
Eventide breaks from pain to fountain pen,
   Count I thy decrepit blessings —

Brain crying dearth,
              heart...peopled by void,
                   soul acting out an enigma,
                        shadow wounds up to sleep —
Thou water not wet...
Their carousal is on a carousel ride —
Awaiting my high the next low tide...

Come thick with me and be my thin,
We shall die down, but hang in;
The sun liar mounts and rains my croon,
Spy not quicksand, we pink moon —

My, my, a thousand-spring-dead - I!
The balloon did spring not a leak; still
I'm suspiring time —
Abhishek Talukder is a filmmaker and a writer.
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
psychosis grips, grins.
Blink.
Shake my head.
Take a sip of gin, make the gut glitter
touch up brainwaves
rainbow palisades carousal ride around repeated word again left right up down **** me wheres the ground movie movie I'm the star listen wait, let me out the car.
Grips. Grins.
Sip. Gin.
Cycle.
****.
How do I scream with written word? It would take a page or clever words but all I have is a sound. Doesn't translate.
Then again, nothing does.
Grips.Grins.
Sip.Gin.
Cycle.
****.
Sean Grimes Mar 2019
From black and brace strings lightning plank
Walking lines of dimming lights.
With ease eyes fade in eternal sea
Carousal bottomless pit of familiarity.

Hands hold fighting ****** brevity
Flight of Soul’s simple longevity

Fog of gray
Bring dusk and dawn
For those who stray
Must blend immiscible,
Or you will pay
And parish hollow.

Born to old warm then cold
We find familiar footing
Last gasp past flash our legacy and crown
The wisdom bestowed on you
Graff1980 Nov 2016
Carousal dreams
Carry my laughter
While my past screams
Chase happily ever after

And I age faster
As the day fades
Stars stray
From their place
And die
Before I ever see
Their true face

Sparkling carnival colors
Spin around
Up and down
Absorbing
The sunny summer day’s
Heated rays
Till the ferris wheel seats
Blister my broken bottom

Grey gravel
Green leaves
See me passing
These barren streets
Crossing memory lanes
Passing past self
Leaving all the blame
With a person
I will never be again

The circuit board breaks
Pathways flare up
And fizzle out of existence
Muscles spasm
As I walk in to the last chasm
Leaving trails
Of nothingness behind me

The cavern closes
No one else goes in
And I never come out
Graff1980 Aug 2018
When the stress
runs roughly
over these
current moments,
we look back
to the black pasts
and remember
shiny slivers.

We turn
those dark
and dangerous days
into greener shades
of pastural pleasure.

We celebrate
our own
old ignorance
and call it
nostalgia.

We ride
a carousal
of colorful
what ifs,
and maybes.

Wasting fleeting
opportunities
to make today
better then
yesterday.
Twelve disciples disciplined for thirteen rifles/
Do the math who's the thirteenth one see me stun/
Criticism mysticism embrace by the occultism/
Learned who I am slams those with damns/

Curse words once vocals heard make birds/
Fly south closed mouths don't get fed shed/
Peace inside of war spread it's blooshed/
Wed to flows past the cosmos glows souls /
Energized by the dogons Stargate childs
Stars smile against mankind's wild style /
Moon essence tilt my bed like a crescent /
Thinking ways with no blinking stare linking
Portals into past millennials walkin ghetto/
Cathedrals this is for my people same sequels /
Pastors pimping the pews drunk off the *****
Spiritually confused bruised why he in a benz crews/
Mercedes been used past through my new eyes views/
I saw a burning bush not through the kush
Lustin' wisdoms over kingdom and how come/
Folks say they love you but quick to bury you /
At the same time plotting ya will with blue bills/
Carousal thoughts cluster how can I muster /
The seeds prides greed like Apollo Creed's /
Feeds a hungry soul what I'm waiting for
It's an intergalactic face lifts off a virus its an all out war/


**** those folks giving out false lessons /
Of blessing mad stressing see us pyrexin' /
Cuz ya reaches to short t-rexin still flexin' /
Beats flawless mental prowess left ya jawless
Can ya manifest what I make out of a mess /
It's easy baby believe me I feel for the greedy /
Needy souls waiting for the ultimate halos /
God scrolls ain't written by the universe /
More like man's curse stories told in reverse /
**** the rebirth I make ya head hurt extort
Abort smash forts go up in the
courts /
I stencil paperwork with my Chicago writers /
Haters become inviters death row biters
Glide ya like Drexler cold body collector /
Wicked as Lecter Hannibal true animals /
Instincts walking a path of
a panther /
Black and white flashlights coped medias on site/
We taking over **** ya rights we copyright /
Illegitimate wills in these corporate fields /
Turn capitol hill into a ****** reel until
They fill out they death certificates
bit /
Harsh times long ago out the spiral I'm pyro /
Move like sandstorms transform into a beauty of harm/
Graff1980 Feb 2020
Listen to the sounds of drumming,
that is coming through.
Baby, I am the predator
that is hunting you,

super serial killer,
crazy ****** hummer
of a creepy tune.

When you hear the sound of knocking
you should runaway,
cause toe tapping maniacs
in the carnival
are coming today.

See the sad clown,
and watch the ****** carousal.
When the lights go out
we will all fall then crawl.

The melody is haunting
like those glowing eyes,
semi-circles spinning
in the darkest night.

If it was the devil
that would be a relief,
but this is something darker
then an ancient angelic creep.

Hunger and jagged teeth,
congested growls,
nipping at my feet,
fur so thick it engulfs everything,
when I turn around
and look into the mirror
I see that the beast is me.

It’s a circus of terrors
with too many tops to count,
and there are new nightmares
in every brand new town.

Little zombie dwarves
that claw the ground
riding decaying ponies
with flesh that falls
from their ribs,
while bits of viscous mucus
slides down the strong mans
chiseled vampire grin.

Steeped in all of this horror
how will anyone survive,
and to top it off this is
Halloween night.

Goblin fingers grab you,
laughing at your terror.
You might get a way
for a moment,
but running
will take to nowhere.

Sleeping eternally silent in the void
where no one comes back from,
a place no one can avoid
forever.
Graff1980 Dec 2020
Half asleep the creep
takes a back seat.

Eyes ahead I drive instead
of acknowledging anything,
but something is nagging,
some question is blinking,
like a bright red turn signal.

He sits silent, but present
all stillness in my presence,
while the sound of rain
pelts this metal carriage.

No words, but I know
where I am supposed to go.
No time but I still stall,
try not to move at all,
cause I am not ready
for what waits at
the end of the road.

The engine hums some
endless tune,
rattling on like a sad song,
with skies that are so clouded
that I can’t see the heavenly crescent
that should be right above me.

I panic, crying and frantic
tell my passenger that “it’s too soon.
Give me till next June,
cause there is so much
I still want see and do.”

He leans in, breathing
and I can’t believe
what I am seeing
in my rearview mirror.
Eyes like mine,
lips that match,
same hair of black.

He says in a voice
I am sure is mine,
“don’t look back.
You’re driving to **** fast.”

The rain subsides.
The night finds beautiful moonlight
and I drive.

I turn on the radio,
let my stress go,
and move with the
Billy Joel flow.

Somehow, I can tell
my passenger is grooving as well.

In the distance I can see
carousal like lights
swirling in front of me,
glorious shades and hues
of reds, greens, and blues.

The highway is slick,
and for a millisecond I can feel
my tires lose their grip.
I let the pedal up and turn the wheel
into the spin before it begins
and keep on driving.

Memories follow.
My friend is still riding.
Night turns to dawn
and I keep on driving.

Towns come and I go out.
I see a lot and learn to doubt,
questioning what this questing
is all about.

Not a word from the dude in the back,
and I am okay with that.
The road never ends
and I don’t remember
where this journey began.

I am just driving on man,
just driving on.

— The End —