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Diana Garcia Jul 2018
And now I can get over you the way I should have
Knowing I didn’t do all that I could have
Now I can wallow in regret
Cause my ego had done nothing but bring me dread.
Remorse.
It’s my own fault my hearts so coarse
Now you have two daughters with her
For better
For worse
This whole time I thought I was cursed
But I was just getting ready to ride the hearse
In a hurry to be buried
I’ve done my worse
This is all new
This part ain’t rehearsed  
You went from not even crossing my mind
To being  featured in my verse
It hit me like a ton of bricks
I hope this feeling
Ain’t the type that sticks

If my man finds out
He’ll have a fit
He’ll pick a corner for me to sit
Like a piece of furniture
But I guess this is what I get..
Therapy.. can’t kive with it.. can’t  live without it..


#pastlove

At least I’ve gained some perspective
Tommy Randell Nov 2017
[Shadowplay 2]

                                  Endurance     Coarse

           Light as dandelion seeds spread aback the wind
  We knew like clockwork the rush of being together the best
                It was this punishing we constantly failed in
                  Our own repeated destruction of ourselves

                           And yes, it is THIS guilt that clings
                                           And bewilders

                    Oh when she cried     ****!
                  With her headaches     Feeding on the heart-break
       And drank to **** the pain     In my own head
Of her continued Love for me     Pain Shrinks
          The *** being our secret     Confounded to something less
Even I couldn't reach her then     ****!
                                                         ­  Making the slow journey
             In her sobbing solitude     Into widening arms again
           Punching her own head      In the face of such memories
                           She would say      Reality is at most a guess

       When you think of laughter, think of glass
                         My boy-thighs brushing bed-sheets behind her eyes
       When you speak of Joy    
                         My young revenant tongue licking the glitter of her wetness
       **Tell no lies for a mirror
Poems for two voices always pose a difficulty when it comes to indicating how the different speakers should interact, start & stop in relation to the other, and so on. On the WORD page it is easy to orient the two voices visually and make an attenpt at least - Here on the screen with limited formatting it is little more difficult. We'll see how it works out...
OC May 20
There’s irony
In our struggle to resolve
In our vain attempt to state
That if we decompose the world
And isolate
The properties of every element
We can construct it bottoms-up
In all its former glory

Yet nature still resists
For it is not made of the details
But of all that manifest between
It is not balanced on a needle
But emerges from the pattern sewn
From the answer, not to “Why?”
But to “Why not?”

If we just distance the objective
From the subject, that is subjective by default,
And take a glance from far enough
The universe unfolds
A whole
Much larger than its parts

The same way motion
Is not defined for isolated sole
Same as color
Is never measured by a single pulse
The same way poetry
Does not exist within a single word
Creation
Is not the grains, but the coast whole
That lets us know just where
The sea begins
Third installment in the series of poems inspired by physics (see first poem in the series for explanation).
For further reading: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coarse-grained_modeling

Thoughts and comments are always welcome
Ashleigh Black Jul 2014
I can still taste the
blackened ash on my burnt lips
left by three coarse words.
ELK Jul 2018
The ocean booms and rages
And something inside me stirs
at the wild beauty,
ancient power,
and feeling,
that calls my name.

The warm salty breeze caresses
my face,
and as the sun slips into the sky
silhouettes of birds winging their way
amidst the glowing darkness
enter my mortal vision.

I lay in the soft sand,
and pull some into my open palm.
Are we like sand?
Soft and pretty at first,
but once rain falls
and the world throws hardship
at us,
we become harsh
coarse
and gritty.

If so, we must learn to
accept that there will
always be rain,
And learn to soften into the
person we are
deep down.

Strong,
and yet still soft enough to
experience life's joys.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
You are strong. But it is okay to feel. It is okay to have strength that does not bow and does not break.
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
Have you ever been angry?
So angry you've scared yourself.
Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within.
An immense depth fast approaching.
So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes.
Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble.

Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out.
Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel.
Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching.

This beast was once kept sealed.
Who gave it this key to destruction.
This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy.
Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy.
Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity.
Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc.

I sent my armies. I sent them all.
Countless deaths and yet I sent more.
Quick slaughter - not the painless type.
This beast they could not stall.
Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn.
Festering flesh flying from fallen.
Axe, Sword and Mace soaked,
dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate.
Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses.
What do I do?
It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn.
I can feel the hate changing me.
Quickly now or I'll soon deform.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
Michael Solc Jul 2014
An angel
wrapped in gauze.
Lying still
on coarse,
unmoved sheets.

Soft,
tender skin
pulled tight
over blood
and bone
by taut stitches
pierced through
the wreckage.
My angel.

Surrounded
by colour,
bright flowers
that fill the room
with a sweet odour
as they die.
I tell myself
that I can't
smell her too.

The sun
streaming in
through the window
is too hot,
but she shivers.
Now and then.
Her eyes,
so bright
when she looks
at me.

I touch her hair,
and whisper
in her ear.

An angel
wrapped in gauze
prays to a god
she's never seen.

I hold her hand,
long after she's let go.
Rich Hues Dec 2018
They pretend they're cultured,
But really they're coarse,
Their glittering marriage,
Heads for divorce,
So she'll take her offspring,
Back to Bel-Air,
With its deep, blue blood,
And its bright, red hair,
And its lovely skin,
A diversity brown,
And where Donald will give it,
A gold plated crown.
Arby Aug 2018
Stone columns lined the nave,
graced by a stained warmth.
Yet, as I stood in the crossing
the silence was coarse.
Waynepatrick Aug 2018
My faith is a small boat,
With a structure so frail,
With winds that disregard it's sail,
I am afraid it won't stay afloat.

My faith is a plucked leaf,
Cut off from it's life source,
Soaring through a coarse course,
The leaf grieves.

My faith is a dried stream,
Scorched by the summers heat,
Overthrow from it's seat,
Forced out of it's regime.

My faith is on the verge of a cliff,
Holding on,struggling to survive,
It may slip and take a dive,
And finally plunder to it's death.
     All this is true,it is all true.
      Forgive me for healing in front of you.
ryn Sep 2014
These hands have clawed with blind eyes
Chipped nails on fingers working on knots and ties

Fingers that recklessly point to reproaches and blames
Never to self, righteousness through arrogant claims

Now aware, these palms have covered my face in contempt
For they've partook in activities; indulgent and unkempt

Rubbed skin raw on life's coarse sandpaper
Ever searching for the coming of the unanticipated saviour

Broken flesh hopeful for newly formed skin
Like tattered souls pleading for absolution of sin

Only skin deep but unfavourable experiences do fester
Expecting the proverbial infection to blow over

Here they are, held unclenched and riddled with pocks
Weathered and sore from time's infinite mocks

Maybe thereafter, will be awaited healing
Perhaps soon after, I will be forgiving

See now... Hands faced up, parted as halves
Asking not for alms but instead your acceptance as salve

Take into yours, these knackered, gnarled up palms
Let your porcelain-like touch relieve like life reforming balm
Irah Rahim Sep 2014
The ocean breeze—
Soft yet so harsh.
I wrote your name,
at the back of my palm.
The seagulls sounds like they are screaming your name,
And then I realized that this sorrow seems to have no aim.
I called out your name,
While half of my body is already in the water,
The coarse sand under my feet,
Feels like the bottom of your hairline.
I sank my head underwater,
But all I can taste is my tears.
I don't know what the wave hitting the beach is saying,
because all I heard is your voice.
labyrinths Jul 2016
she screams "SILENCE DOES NOT EXIST" at the top of her lungs but there's no one around to hear her

her brain pounds against her skull and she can hear the sound of drilling through bone she can smell the sweet stench of human bone meal she can taste the oozing sawdust textured drips of her own blood and she can see the back of her eyelids, tinged with red from the florescent lights  of the hospital room as her fingers twist in the thin coarse blankets she tugs at so desperately writhing in the cot they've graciously provided her with if only to remove her stillbeating organs with the promise of a cure

she screams "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME" at the top of her lungs but there's no one around to hear her
alone alone alone so tired of being alone, i wish this migraine would go away and has anyone found the cure for tinnitus yet?
ryn Sep 2014
I see you, monster...
In your sockets bore dead, dark eyes
They hold the blackest of stares
Nebulous swirling pits of demise

Thin lips would spout the most sibilant of hisses
Every so often would curl into a snarl
Dry and chapped, almost unworthy of kisses

Large, rough snout, jutting out like a crag
You sniff around tirelessly for easy targets
Preying on the unsuspecting minds of those under your flag

Tapering chin, sprouting strands of coarse hair
Unkempt and gritty from your last meal
Decaying teeth, crooked due to little to no care

Your face is cratered; tales of trying adolescent years
Wearing a face only a mother could love
Expressionless but it screams out your fears

**** jointed limbs that grew out of sync
Disproportionate, misshapen, grotesque
Little noggin with sparse hair, packed within, a brain that thinks


I hear you, monster...
As you stalk your sleepless nights
Nocturnal ambience be your playground
Lurking in the dark; places with no light

Bulky, heavy feet but deft and silent
Can barely notice when you're up and about
As if cloaked yourself stealthy, with steps ever transient

Respire you do, exhaling breaths so gnarly
Ingesting good air, converting into fervid, loathsome notions
With which you paint a portrait so ghastly


I feel you monster...
Deep within the recesses of my heart
Destroying and distorting all that was pure
Testing my will till I should fall apart

You're but the twisted manifestation of conscience
Feeding on my trials and nurturing them into vile abominations
I despise that of you but I seem to have developed dependence


I see you, monster...**
You're horrid and beastly, an embodiment of absolute horror
I await the day that you would finally dissolve
For I am weary of seeing you staring back in the mirror
Still riding out the storm... Please bear with me
Justin Griego Feb 2014
On this Ritalin,
I am slow
Brains aren't racing
Thoughts don't go
Oh, I'm so productive
Ask anybody; they'd know
But my creative spark suffocates
Under the Ritalin filled glow.

I can't even tell you
how hard it can be
When every word you say
doesn't go past me
I can hear every syllable
Every motion I do see
Then my brain melts at the pressure
Not spouting off wittily

They say I speak normally
The words come out so true
But to me they sound labored
So slow and confused
I have thought into every motion
of my vocal cords abuse
And feel every vibration
to my tingled lips amuse

Some times I'm real happy
no way my spirit'll shake
Some times I'm real sad
It's more than I can take
Sometimes I don't feel anything
That's a feeling I just can't shake
Sometimes I feel everything
And I'm waiting for my head to break

My doctor never gave me Ritalin
As a kid I never did have
But now I'm all grown up
And this time I've a' bottle in hand
I used to let my mind race
Daydream of robot bands
Now I've let these pills run coarse
N' hourglass runs on Ritalin slowed sands
(AIP)
Mikaila May 2014
Thin, white wrists.
Bone white
Like china
And just as brittle.
They make that coarse, scraping sound when they touch one another.
The kind of sound that delicate, expensive teacups make when stacked
The wrong way.
It makes me cringe.

Little blue veins kiss the surface of them,
Hissing and sizzling when the air gets
Too close
Like tiny snakes.

These wrists
Have made promises.
They have
Borne loads.
These wrists have snapped like twigs
Under the weight of a heavy,
Punishing love.
But, pressed back together the way they'd been,
They hardened oncemore
Like stone
And the cracks and fissures
Sank inside again
And smooth, unmarred, delicate white skin emerged
To begin the process over.

At night the snakes whisper and murmur against my cheek in their sleep
And sometimes, quite suddenly,
They sink in their fangs
And I awaken with a start,
A sharp pain radiating out to my fingertips
Like a shock.

Last night I felt their strikes by the hour
One,
Two,
Three, more.
And this morning a strange... fullness
Began in my wrists
And seeped out
Up along my arms
Through my collarbones and down
Into my heart.

Perhaps it was the venom
Working
But where it spread I
Settled
Like an old stone wall.
Like the halls of a castle
That has seen too much death
And too many kings.

I sank into myself
For the first time
And the ground felt heavily solid
And I felt
Only the hollow hiss
Of little blue and green serpents
Dreaming inside me
And that
Was something like certainty,
Although of what
I still don't
Know.
he is a turtle
she is a rose

he moves slow
she daily glows

he is rough and coarse
she smells perfect

he closes his eyes
she flies in petals

he proposed her
she refuses

he goes down underwater
she amuses

he came as a wet pet
she firms her guards

he tells a story
she discards

he stops trying
she loves the scar

he stays in front of her
and she remarks

what do you need?
what do you want?

his voice is crisp
he utters at last

I just need affection
I just need admiration
I just need approval
because I am a narc.
veritas Sep 2018
maybe it's there, in the crevice of his hard heart, that he heard the soft echo of light.

maybe, if the wound really is where the light enters you, it's in the heavy handed claps or in that gruff way men tell their sons, when it seems like the right thing to do, that they love them,

and then it's gone,

vanished into the cold nothingness, behind

rough hands and hearty laughter and the slow descending numbness of duty and honor and being a man.

it's faded, worn over, rusted old coppers,
until there comes along a boy who'll tuck the rough love away, who won't stand startled but rather perplexed,

who'll keep it boxed safe like pressed flowers between thin brown paper.

and then maybe, maybe that sweet boy will spread a few more, until his love is no longer a coarse and dying brittle sea air but nourishing, sustaining,

and maybe then he can start over.
8/22
Michael Solc Feb 2013
Sun-dried moss
hangs in clumps
from the eaves trough.
Morning dew glittering
in the dawn.
The floorboards,
covered in peeling
gray-blue paint,
crackle and creak
beneath my bare feet.

My joints feel rusted,
and my eyes don’t see
as far as they did before.
Before all that happened
happened.  
My hand on the doorframe
is alien to me.
But it moves when I ask,
so it will have to do.

I stagger through
the warm porch,
where a soft,
sweet-smelling breeze
drifts in through
torn metal screens
and cracks in the
rickety door.
I open it as quietly
as I can.
There is only me here,
but I like the quiet.

Three wooden steps
down to a gravel drive
that passes side to side
out front.  
Bare feet,
too well-worn to
feel the stones,
tip-toe across
to the rough,
brown-green grass.  
My feet are wet
now, and
when they find
the sand just beyond
the patch of grass,
it clings.
I scrunch up my toes,
digging, until I find
the cool, dry
layer below.

The lake is clear,
and the soft rustle
through the pine trees
along the shore
reminds me again of years
gone by.
Sticky fingers,
covered in sap,
pine needles sticking
between my toes,
and scrapes on my shins
that hurt back then,
but sing sweetly in my memory.

I sit on the little beach
between the trees,
crossing my legs,
and plunge my hands
beneath the sand.
Peace.

And what a joy,
to be here
and feel it
in the coarse sand,
the cool caress of morning breeze,
and the utter
silence of the still lake.  

Have I come so far,
to wish for so little?
Have I lost something
along my way?
The anger has faded,
and in its place
sits a quiet resolve.
The games they play,
I’ve long since lost,
but finding myself here,
I wonder if I’ve not
come out ahead.

The water calls to me.
I may visit her soon,
once I’ve had my fill
of sand.  
The wind grows bolder,
and the pines whistle.
A loon calls out,
somewhere unseen.
I wonder if today I’ll
climb that same tree
from so long ago.
Wonder if it has held
its form better than I,
and which may break
a limb first.

I smile,
because I know
it’s foolish,
and the beach is so
soft beneath me.
Warm and yielding.
But oh,
the sweet,
stinging memories.
Sanjali Jan 2018
4
-Origin-

Sitting alone at the seashore
I await your return,
To see the flags on the horizon
Beyond the setting sun.

Waiting alone at the seashore
I shiver from the breeze.
The waves shatter my wisdom
and I stay all eternity.

Trembling alone at the seashore
I overlook my despair.
Numb fingers mark liberation
From this hard coarse sand.

Forgetting myself at the seashore
I look for a cause
To abide by this meditation
When the origin is lost.
Joshua Michael Sep 2018
A part of you i saw
A part i think you've never seen
It was beautiful and serene  

Why do you hide it
Put on a brave face
A hard closed facade

I've seen your heart
The love you have hidden
Behind your coarse surface

Set your heart free
I promise its safe
I'll gaurd its gate

Set your heart free
Let your truth grow
let our love flourish

Allow me to love you
...
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