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IrieSide Aug 2018
Flex your philosophy
under the influence
Oh weak hearted,
don’t you know that life is meaningless?
will you find value,
or just pretend?

To love is to know,
To love is to live

In time you will find
what this perplexing
fence
truly is
RK Aug 2018
I was thinking about you and reminding myself not to interfere but it’s so hard not to, when I love you.

Still, that gives me no special rights so I ended up minding my own business.
The whole saga unfolding before my eyes I tried to reach you fibrationally. I sent you love and kind wishes and many blessings
All the while realizing the dangerous situation you had encountered.
I saw you  losing your vitality!
I prayed this prayer for you !

Move away from the toxic atmosphere. That cut throat, manipulating back stabbing, "you scratch my back,  I’ll scratch yours, if you want to succeed in this life, attitude."

That environment is not good for you...

Money isn't everything! Pray tell me, if you lose your soul what good is the whole world?  It will be empty, destructive and counter productive.  If you say you need more you tell yourself a lie, you already have everything. Why create a lack, a void, where none exists? I watch you grow paler thinner-the light in your soul  dimmer, a bare glimmer of the one you truly are. The dis-ease is spreading like wild fire burning you out mercilessly, eating your liver. Destroying your beautiful vigour.  

I see it so clearly, will you hear, will you hear?

You see, I remember you! Yes, you had everything. Love, kindness and empathy, all these beautiful soul qualities. You knew how to share, care and be fair.
Now you are empty with lots of money, you have nothing and everything. What a ****** dilemma!

The degrees hard earned, and book knowledge but nothing really of true value, no equilibrium, balance.  
Too much of everything! And you told me you are full of despair. You laid you're heart and soul bare, a circle outside the square, yes I heard you.
You've travelled far, drive a fancy car. Nothing wrong with that, the world is your oyster.
Though in the grand scheme of things, do those  things really count for anything.  Albeit money itself isn't the real issue here. It's the belief that without it you are nothing. The words nothing and everything are so misunderstood! We all have to work out this stupid and harsh conundrum.

You included!

Thats if you want to know the true meaning of success, of being blessed, that is...

Can you hear, can you hear, can you hear?
The prayer answered ...

Oh! I hear, I hear! loud and crystal clear.
I now know, and of this you can be sure. It's taken a long time to work it all out. Now I'm here, and close enough to understanding the conundrum.

So yes,  I hear!

And I understand The dilemma! Not left or right,  but the centre. The circle squared if you like! I had to go through all the fear, oh! the terrible fear to find the truth. The courage to work though the pain the suffering.

I remember when I started out.  I didn't fit in at first.  I was so innocent, a lamb to the slaughter.  I became so competitive. I fought, driven by ambition, t'was like an addiction. I wanted more, worn down to the floor accumulating, name, position of authority, the status. The friends, the enemies! Who is who? Trying to figure it out was horrendous.  I lived in dread, under the threat I'd lose it all. The sleepless nights, the reflux, anxiety,  the psoriases, the fall.
But I kept climbing! Never staying too long on and any one rung, moving higher and higher. The ladder was made from steel, the building made from concrete blocks, while I, was born of only mere flesh and blood, a mortal being going under. Saved by grace, seeing my beautiful being, falling asunder.  


The awakening!

I'm clearing the slate of all the confusion, delusion, and getting to the emptiness where I now reside alone, not born only of flesh and blood,  but of spirit, of good. With God in my soul, I now know
the glory and wonder of the world.

Peace
Hmm, I'm not sure if this is suitable to post but I'm posting anyway. It's a dialogue in my head I had this morning. A friend and I have discussed these problems and issues and this morning I j found myself thinking of this person and marvelling how this dear one  came through such a rough period in life. All these musings are based on all the suffering the person went through!
Peace
Skaidrum Sep 2016
...
Solitude
Some poems belong in the dawn.
"I begged solitude to take me tenderly as I slept."
Didn't you know?
Death is the poor man's doctor.

"I deny. I deny. Not anymore.
I worship him."

Shakes
You see, turning water into wine
is the same thing
as turning
blood
into liquid gold

"I drank the gold
and it plagued my gut,
I scream at solitude to come take me."

Fear's
Do you think monsters fall in love too?
"Monsters fall and tumble and fracture.  
They fall the hardest;
it's humans who don't."
Oh, but how can you be so sure?
"I've seen both, I've been both."

Hand
Tell me about the crimes
that are your lovers and your ghosts.

"Both have given me kisses,
both have left with blood on my wrists."

Greetings wearing thin
"Don't you think what prophecy did to sleeping beauty
was better than what the prince did to her?"
Like mother said,
pick your poisons wisely.


Skaidrum
ARADENOX
...
stopdoopy Jul 2018
(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish
a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".)

(The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.)

Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference?

Little Girl: I like to think it does.

Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve.

(Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.)

(Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.)

Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything.

Little Girl: But you don't-

Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything!

Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me!

Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.)

(Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.)

(The Curtain closes.)
I wanted to try something a little different! I've never written stage directions or a play before but I thought this would be a nice change. I didn't really convey the raw anger or passion, nor was it the scene what I originally wanted but maybe it's a step in the right direction. Trying out different styles is neat. Not happy with this piece though but... oh well.
KiraLili Apr 2015
Texts and Twitter and emails have replaced conversation

Statements and replies are so fast and thoughtless , merely instant

People walk side by each silenced with gadgets across the nation

Things designed to bring us closer have made us distant

No one has time to reflect anymore during a slow talk

Emoticons have replaced our inclinations and gestures

Hands are now full and not together during meals or a walk

The physical contact during a conversation, the touch to a forearm, has lost its texture

Cold questions one after another on screens , no more lively banter

Science and technology have quieted our ways, made us so smart

Once we talked deeply and overheard at restaurants were murmurs and laughter

In a few short years conversation and discussion have lost the their art
I people watched while travelling the other day. I saw very few conversations. Thank you SR
Did you know that
if you pour fat on a stone
God will eat it and
chip his teeth
becoming, ...angry?

Did you know that?

Is that, ...literal?
in meaning...
did God once bite a man's flesh
consuming his shoulder;
like a pork shoulder?

Did God do that?

Maybe God just shouldered,
...the burden of...
silly men and teacher's tales?
Maybe he didn't chip his teeth at all?
Perhaps he swallowed something ridiculous?

I don't know,
Believe what you like...

From space the Peloponnese,
appear like a chewed-up shoulder.


Don't they?
The uniVerse Oct 2016
A girl stood before me at the supermarket
a few random items littered her basket
pink socks poked out from her sneakers
they were covered with little creatures
an inch of flesh stood between
those ankle high socks and her jeans.

Nice socks I exclaimed!
she turned around inflamed
looked at me and said
I have a boyfriend
her face now red.

Are they his I asked?
her face broke into a laugh
sorry I got so defensive
guys make me apprehensive
I don't really have a boyfriend
sometimes I just like to pretend.


*I know how you feel I replied
in embarrassment I've often lied
and whenever I'm struck by beauty
of someone new I meet
I can't look directly at them
I look towards their feet.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BzjEKe3nX0B/
Tom Spencer Dec 2018
clouds race by
like kites with broken strings

trees sway
naked branches rattle

cold wind
stings my ears

you ask why I love
the winter

sycamore leaves tumble
and swirl through the garden

brittle sails
crackling air



Tom Spencer © 2018
Ormond May 2015
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'

Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'

Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                           
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,

Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'

Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
King Lear is a tragedy by William Shakespeare in which the titular character descends into madness after disposing of his estate between two of his three daughters based on their flattery, bringing tragic consequences for all. Based on the legend of Leir of Britain, a mythological pre-Roman Celtic king.
.
Joz Mar 2016
"I wish we are getting better"
What did you say again?
"I wish we are getting better"
Wake up man, there is no 'we'

Just remember, Mr We Wanna Be!
Everything has changed
Stop comparing present and past
"It is hard, I keep doing it."

No one says it is easy
No one cares it is hard
'We' do not even care
'We' is too lazy to think

Wake up Mr. We Wanna Be!
Upgrade yourself!
"I did"
But you stopped

"I'm trying to do it again"
Then stop thinking about 'we'
"I can't"
You are too weak then

Are you bothering about her friends?
"Yes"
They are more important than you
"I know"

Do you know why?
"Yes, they were always there"
Why weren't you?
"I was the trigger"

Conclusion?
"They are good, I am not"
Then?
"I should upgrade my self"

How about 'we'?
"I wish..."
What?
"It will exist.. again"

That's all?
"I wish the better 'we' will appear"
How about her friends?
"I wish they support the existence of 'we'"
JJ Hutton Feb 2018
It was an—I don't know—unfleshing of sorts. There I am. I'm in my old room. My parent's place. And Mom's telling me what all we need to pack up and organize. This place, my room, it's frozen in time. It looks exactly the way it did when I graduated high school. The lime green walls, the Brett Favre poster, a few pieces of artwork my brother did. There are all these medals and trophies for soccer; football; academic *******; and most of it, to be frank, was undeserving. I phoned it in, my education and extra curriculars. Things came easy, et cetera. And the lesser accolades, the participation trophies, for these, Mom hands me a pocket knife and tells me to pry off the nameplates and she'll donate them to Goodwill. It was tangible, right? This erasure. I've talked to you about that before, erasure. I wanted to disappear completely, but there I am in my old room, prying away pieces of my past with a knife, a couple of nameplates popping off and hitting the floor before I can grab them. That sound, dull, empty, metallic.

I'm alone a lot now, you know? After losing the job, entering this funk, gaining weight. I'm in a depressive state. In that room, I felt like I was just further removing myself from the world, like my deletion had gained dimension, it was truly, ****, what word am I looking for here? Help me. Comprehensive. That's good. Sterile and safe for work. My erasure became comprehensive. Ha.

And it's hard to talk about this, depression, erasure. I always feel like a selfish child. I'm perpetually throwing a fit. I won't clean my room. I don't want to brush my teeth. I don't want to help grandma with lunch. Ha ha.

You say that. And I appreciate it. But if I always talked to you about this stuff, you'd stop answering the phone. Or I'd feel so guilty about bothering you that I'd stop calling. This feeling gets you from both sides. It's like that old adage. Never chew on something that's eating you. But that's precisely what I'm doing. In this moment. Outside of this moment. I want to ask you how do I stop. But what could you possibly say. Stop thinking about it. Find a hobby. Exercise. Read. Journal. Go to therapy. You could smile while you told me these things, you could pat my hand, you could finish your coffee, and you could walk out the door to face your own little tragedies, feeling like you'd done something kind today, check the box, score some karma. You see all those recommendations are tired, generic; they're surface level, phony. What would I prefer? I think if you threw that coffee in my face that'd be a start.
melancholy eyes glaze over
the old honeycomb wallpaper pattern
and the mottled ceiling, paint peeling
noting every crevice in your new apartment
my consciousness dips in and out
of every nook and cranny, catching
fragments of the conversation.
you should always be the centre of attention.
i'd tried to entertain the notion, you'd noticed
my eyes in the ceiling and ushered me back
to the boring evening tea room with a gentle
fingertip or two pressed to my wrist.
do you wish you were somewhere else?
would you read my tea leaves and tell me,
what does the future hold for us?
Emily Sep 2018
Hi
[How high is it?]

I’m not exactly sure—how tall are you?
[I’m about as tall as I’ll ever be—one day soon, I’ll probably start shrinking. I’ve heard that happens when you get older.]

Well...
[Well, you say? How deep is it?]

It’s hard to tell, since I never used it for water.
[Deep wells are best—why I still remember the drought of ‘34 and all the trips we made to the neighbor’s well after ours dried up.]

I’m sure those were quite the days, but how are you today?
[Today? Today I do as I please...so long as I’m pleased to do as I’m suppos’d to.]

That sounds like a good strategy.
[Thanks. You’re welcome to adopt it—I won’t even charge you for it.]

How generous of you. Thanks. You have a good day now, ok?
[I hope to, because every day above ground is a good day.]
Inspired by and compiled from conversations with my Grandpa, who lived with my family during my formative years. He’s the first literalist I ever met and frequently said: “You talk so much, you talk so much, you worry me to death.”
Steve Page Aug 20
We each sit in silence,
punctuated by the scrape of canvas,
and while it takes a while for me to hear you,
to taste the essence of you,
- slowly your aroma filters through
your curves,
your creases
and I cease to see your flesh and instead
I see the palette of you,
embedded in the greying of you,
waiting for this, this view,
this interpretation of you,
while you sit in your steady state
of quiet undress
Each September comes BEAT Borough of Ealing Art Trail - Art shown in artists homes. And each August poets are invited to write an accompanying poem to a piece of art. This is one of my BEAT poems.
Diana Nov 2018
an individual should always feel
confident
IN their looks
but should never be confident
BECAUSE of their looks
KiraLili Oct 2016
She talked in questions
Asked always why when you finished
That's not conversation
We all know one such as this

#lostartofconversation #spokane
I love you
Probably people love you more than you will ever know,
Probably,
You know what you are like
Thinking people don’t care,
Silly Billy,
Still fighting aren’t you?
Keep fighting, big brave man.
Between a daughter and her father.
Just so poetically spoken.
(Between life and death).
Tommy Randell Oct 2017
Sunlight makes me sneeze.
Atishoo in a Haiku?
Just the Sun, Bless You!

Tommy Randell 10th October 2017
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