Amanda 6h
Lately I have not been able to sleep
Instead ride a dangerous wave
Thoughts careen around and back
Crashing into a rocky cave

Lie awake in bed and stare
At the ceiling or the wall
Thinking until I am almost numb
Until I cannot think at all
Relentless thoughts
Stained eyes gray, drained of life and filled with
watered-down pain, can she feel now? If my teeth make
an appearance, you'll be given your fix of my 'happiness,'
injected through your cranium. I wish I could navigate my
naive wishes, as I'm sinking in my pillows, and the light on
the ceiling is winking at me as I'm patched up, written in 'unhappy'
My uncanny doubts are fancying a feathery gift of sleep,
unlike this leathery sting of dehydration,  fascinated with
falling feet to my death of dreams-
It's like I like sadness. I hate it, but I want to cry. I can't anymore. I'm so confused right now with everything in my life, just like this confusing writing.
Alyson Lie Jun 2015
When my sister played Clair de Lune
I’d go into her room and sit on the floor
with my ear to the side of the piano
so close that the sound would fill my mind
with the image of the long, coiled strings
vibrating, glowing golden in the darkened box.

I could hear my sister’s feet dampening
and undampening the pedals, muting the
strings, then letting them ring, resonating,
one note overlaying another, could hear
the creak of her piano stool and smell the
smell of wood dust, like old sheet music,
and my ear would pulse, almost hurting
from the sound of the hammers striking steel.

And I would begin to imagine things,
different things each time:
my aunt in a blue flowered house dress
standing in her kitchen holding a jar
of homemade pickles, her thin white hair
always in tight pin curls.

Or I’d be alone, in a long, softly lit hallway,
the walls covered with wainscotting and
lavender striped wall paper yellowing
near the ceiling. At the far end of the hallway,
a solarium, and beyond that a balcony
glimmering in sunlight.

Or I’d be in a field with small, white flowers
bowing with the weeds rhythmically
and sensing that I was
loved by someone.

And it would be that my sister’s
fingers were pounding deep into
my chest, and always, always
by the end of the piece
I’d ask her to play it one more time.
Evelyn May 17
The snow layered thin upon the rooftops,
lining the neighborhood with rows and rows of bleached skulls.

People crawled forth from toothless mouths,
baring their tongues to a leaking ceiling,
their heads covered like hidden fists.

Clenched in each was the fading ink of bottles
trapped in the carcasses of beached whales
who finally met that distant shore
and did not turn away.
One day I’ll get over this need to relate everything to the sea... but not today.
s Jun 2017
My sixth glass of water,
waiting for a full bladder;

Pills prescribed in piles
of multiple blue files.

Neatly pleated hair
with things to declare
about somebody's religion
or marital affair -
red stained partings
and black & gold chains
with symbols of pious belief
 -  so proud, so vain.

A weighing machine,
and a ticking clock;
Footsteps - squeaky clean;
and beige tiled blocks

'You're up next', and
I'm ushered into that cabin of hers
which smells of chemistry labs
and the former patient's nerves.

I'm suddenly too aware
of the low ceiling above,
that completes the misery
Of this clinic, so unloved.

Isn't this is where you
typically celebrate  
the evidence of your love,
your will to pro create ?
The fruits of your bonds,
and all those monogamous wants.

What an irony -
the waiting room -
filled with stories
of impending doom

or merciful glory.
skyler 4d
relapse on the regular
prescriptions pass the time
too many thoughts crowd my head
can barely make this rhyme

searching through the dictionary
stored inside my brain
maybe if i put a bullet through it
the right words will pour out like rain

then i'll write my pretty poems
with the blood on the bed
to forget even prettier memories
stuck deep inside my head

then i'll laugh at my ceiling
let the blood trickle out
i am just hallucinating
there's no way to figure this out

s.s
Observe.
Think .
Create.
Meditate.  
Don't feel intimidated.
Fear is what you keeps waiting.
Expression turns to vibration.
Thus Fear is a stimulation.
Painted the ceiling
to view unconscious feelings.
Your words present perishable meanings.  
Wrote this quickly without thinking,
spoke to you without taking a deep breath
there's no time left.
        Understand depression
is the focus on hopeless motives.
Progression is the negativity
transformed into this art form for all of us.
Fuck being deep.
One try. One love. One lie. One liar or lyric?
As these spirits watch me.
This parable mocks me.
The first joke contained the essence of truth.
We are jokes that are laughed at.
Move closer to your world my friends.  
Third density binding.
I cannot describe it.
Everyday we develop rust.
You can never be the best
unless you can complete the competency test
of contrairy opposites.
Betrayer moon
color blue
the body has no use
if the mind is enslaved
but you still have to choose
sometimes not choosing is a choice
the Sagittarius has a powerful voice.
We must train to increase our strength
the final test is presented
when we least expect.
We eye ball
but see nothing
so what's next?  
A new generation of martyrs
dying for the wrong purpose.
I'm mad they can't prove what their worth.
Decisions shapes destiny.
This psychical attraction
distracted
they just want to hear me
to relax em.

So come along
pathetic poetic marathons
head warrior Sargon
came to spar
searching for who you are
answers for Darwin.
He kept us starving
stuck on a bias
the world cannot apply it.
I don't think one knows
how to change the future so fluently
look at what you do to me. (Writing)
Who can mirror me?
Confused with every theory.
Is pleasure really the highest good?
But.
If the thought is there
then it's a
physical trait to the universe
and your fate.
Constant change.
The mind resets each day.
Each minute.
Each second    
The memory helps protect it.
Nobody can fuck with you
because you're YOU
just remember you're YOU
Sustain.
Fuck my name
its all about details
so see it's wrong
when he wins and she fails.
See what I see.
I know you seek perfection.
Eyes greet and meet to
the unconditioned mind.
These age dependent thinkers
call me weird for being myself.
Scientifically you're not in my realm. (Time)
For I wrote this in the present
which is
your past
but you call it the future.
The most influential
get turned into a joke
as the fake get their story told.
Roxconscious Jun 14
Bombarding with arguments
Feeling we've past
the very real existence
living next to surgical hands of
reason beseech to
appease them
As we're living on the grease of the
pyramids ceiling
Cheddar chess game
that invents blame
on who's hers
isn't
land
Own soil
impossible notions
words unspoken
They try to hide a paedophile
but they're itching
scratching
catting now
and we're searching for a surface
hidden deep within locust
explosive notion
Time for our language
Our version
Nice guys finish last
can't bother to coerce them
In a dog eat dog World
that's fit to curse em
as refer to each other as lower than the first one
Time for
our brothers
our mother's
our serpents
Its a reptilian brain
that commits the insane
due to sociopathic defected brains
thousands of inbred lines divide
truth can be see from inside
outside
inside
outside
INSIDE
By Roisin aka Roxie Rowland inspired by Occupy London 2011.
I'm so happy , I
crawled along a big ceiling
and landed softly
Elvis Presley - can't help falling in love is me and dean wedding vows song
:-)))
Inspired xx
Have lovely weekend :)
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