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ryn Oct 2014
Faced with the great shroud of encroaching unknown,
Cowering beneath dark clouds with nothing else but your own.

Just know that what gnaws on us is the looming uncertainty.
Fruits of undesirable truth may hurt but still it would set you free...
A brief chat with a friend earlier today made me realise this...
Crimson forces of dawn,
Pardon cowering failed night;
Change of reign again!
Marya123 Aug 2016
One year can change it all
It can make you rise, it can make you fall.
One year can blow your mind
Into the dust of forgotten land mines.
One year can **** the soul
Shrapnel holding together broken whole.
One year can bring you hell
A gaunt face with no good stories to tell.
One year can make you search
For bad answers that leave you in the lurch.
One year ago today I left for doom
As the demons lurked waiting in my room.

Yes, one year can change things
Cowering in fear of what the future brings.
Weathering out life's ****
Trying to get up once again when hit.
Every day a battle
Of a mere calf against the best cattle.
Is it won? I know not
I’ll only give it everything I’ve got.
Oh it hurts, will I find
What I’m looking for, leaving past behind?
These are small questions I can put out there
As my fingers work till they’re worse for wear.
Somebody help me I can't breathe
I find myself cowering
On my knees

I reach out earnestly begging please
I've never asked for help..
It's foreign to me

You're all marching by too blind to see
I am human too..
******* notice me.
igc May 2015
I saw the best minds of my generation congested and
polluted overdosing on irrelevance

Abandoned abused replaced
Fed to the thought police
Corrected corrupted
Declining the potential to be heard in
exchange for the opportunity to be documented

Lives being lived according to unfeasible standards
You either make it or you don’t
there’s no in between
there’s no maybe
there’s no equal

Left to meander through the conceived thoughts of others
decisions being made
moves being made
eulogies being made

nothings real
nothing’s right
nothing’s honest
nothing thought up matters


Who in the safety of their homes were taught respect
are told to mask their emotions
Identities saved for the weak
Only to be showcased when conducive

Who pump iron into their veins
looking for an angry fix of acceptance
Sweat streams surge down their backs
Failure prominent in their thoughts
Motivation blessing their features
the Devil clever in disguise

Who see little white fields of fairy dust
a never ending landscape of courage
giving them superpowers beyond belief

Nothing beats the freedom of being told
You can fly

Who dream of equality behind closed eyes
But render to imposed birth rights when open
The upper hand implying more than height
and executing more force than necessary to move them

It’s all about the cause until you’re indubitably
the effect

Who tuck monsters into their beds
Forgetting to check closets for skeletons not quite left behind
in the path of carefully chaotic self destruction
Conveniently purging themselves of words whispered
in the throes of passion
Forced upon the ears of all naive enough to listen

Who carelessly expend countless hours playing with
condescending pawns disguised as adults
All grown up with no where to go
Replacing quality with quantity
Leaving long dull trails of breadcrumbs
leading to hearts long since lost
Never to be recovered again

Who follow sexuality by the book
doing this to get that for this him them who what when where
Why does the finish line have to be covered with brightly colored lace and muffled drunk cries chanting no

Who stare straight dead into the soul of love but never
Never into her eyes
Told she is not worthy of being addressed directly
Fingers itching to cop a feel
Only to discover the body is but a passage to her straight dead soul


Who trade in their voice mind and individuality
for half assed smiles and superficial men
As the face of a leviathan nicknamed acceptance
hands them a paycheck they’ve worked too
night day night night hard to refuse

Who idolize the feel of phantom limbs of lovers past
Twisted words convoluting their heads
Forcing on masks of pure heroine
at the sight of scars left on the soul
Scratching at the need to feel wanted
But cowering at the ability to truly be heard

Who have perfected the art of parallel painting
Elegant red streaks hidden beneath layers of
choppy dark colored hate covering pretty pale limbs
Seeming to fade as colorlessly caked on insecurities susurrate bitter-sweet nothings that curl themselves just inside her mutilated skin

Who scavenged their looks from the bottom of holes
they’re expected to clamber out of
Smiling pretty smiling
Being treated to complimentary meals
Only to be served plates full of disappointment.

Who crave companion’s flaws
in ruthless attempts to satisfy their hunger for compassion
Selfless beings dedicated to less than noble attempts at vanquish
The call for heat too satisfying to refuse the trade off forever uselessly launching themselves into razor sharp blades
aimed at ***** sleeves

Who see soft lips as cushion enough to fall from towers built of fear
Dragging moist palms across pavement thighs
Tearing at the seams holding their
hearts together

Who cower behind brick wall appearances
fruitlessly clutching on to ideas reserved for the most fortunate
Scaring away potential with claws that seemingly only come
out to play in the face of acceptance

Who’s sick stick thin limbs trail their worn down
fingernails in an effort mar skin no one can see
Streaks titillate their bright red scalps
A reflection of their underlying journey

Who disgorge yesterday's meal from stomachs long before empty
Blood spewing from the mouth an open wound
Continuously sewed up but never stitched tight correctly
Wiring shut opinions but never gorged enough to
muzzle their Howls



Ideas, calm and collected have long been hijacked and invaded by Hestia

Hestia! Consent! Content! Acceptance!
Long nights and roid rage men!
Two faces fighting a losing battle!
Girls playing mom! Boys playing war!
Ill ridden parents still pledging to the
United States of Controlling Media!

Hestia! Hestia!
Overall reign of Hestia!
Hestia the beautiful!
Incarcerated Hestia!
Hestia the ******!

Hestia twisted and shaped to form the voice of conformity
Hestia constantly watching over and monitoring
Hestia being told what to ******* think

Hestia seeping creeping sneaking into the
darkest crevices of our minds
Hestia when least expected coming out to say
“Hello”

Too late! Hestia’s already made herself at home
Wedged between the rooks of your biggest fear and
burrowed deep into the folds of
Your  Worst  Nightmare

**** in a constant battle between
rejecting Hestia,
and accepting her.
This was obviously inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."
Considering it was, at the time, the voice of that generation, Welcome to Generation Y.
This is a work in progress.
Chelsea Primera Sep 2017
The city spearheads the futures we sincerely sold,
As it pluckers your pennies and your coins of gold.

I felt poor amid the auras of their fearsome metals,
Cowering in the clothes of our daily struggles.

I am destitute enough
To bleach out the interests of my cards,
To shatter your savings for a disabled future,
To rummage the stock markets for apertures.

Yet within you exhales tentacles of the color Yellow.

Yellow as in,
The scattered stars that scorch the injured sky,
The mellowing voices of neon artificial lights,
The apex of fire alight in frostbitten nights,
And the yolk of hope my cheers rely.

So while you chase the sun
with your copper-clad hands,
remember but this:

all that glitters is not gold,
It’s the color Yellow in these eyes I behold.
C Me Sep 2014
Sorrow weighing heavy
Pain is running deep
Through my broken veins
and aching heart it seeps
The tears they overwhelm me
Like hands about my throat
Can’t vocalize this feeling
A scream the only note

I cannot feel the sunlight
Cold chills me to the core
Paralyzed in darkness
Cowering on the stone hard floor
Life is all but spent
My strength is fading fast
A world away from fancy dreams
and the love I yearned to last

I wonder if he’s happy
Getting high on life
Knowing I can’t be there
Another twisting knife
Don’t want to taste the tears
I try hard to swallow down
Grieving thoughts consume me
I fear I’m going to drown
Still not sure of the title. Feedback welcome.
Shane Leigh Aug 2017
In dire times
we look to those who hold power:
Kings and Queens that long leave us bereft.
Cowering thieves that steal the silver
from peasants,
from nobility,
from those who claim good tidings and tranquility.

It awaits,
lurking -
patient -
in the crevices of the masonry;
What death has been brought here?
What suffering?
What pain?

It does away
with the faithful,
the forgiving,
the forgiven;
young, old, sickly, and power driven;
leaving eye-sight red,
skin singed like ash -
Burned.

Do not fear thy neighbors cough
for it be too late if you had heard;
fear the mask marked by plague,
walking amongst those who once passed.
Taking the guise of good nature
It steals,
It grasps life with cold fingers like twine -
and there be not left but twine.

Then there,
in the dark,
there is no warmth;
cold and calloused It leaves;
washing through the cities
as if all now was
Cleansed.

What now of said power of Majesty's grace?
There be no more cowards
to thieve in their place.
© Shane Leigh
I love all things medieval and Middle Age (mythology, the good, the bad, the gruesome); so, when I have inklings to write about them, I cannot stop myself from doing so (:
Andrew May 2017
Somebody call Ben Affleck
We got phantoms in this *****
This endless haunted mansion
Their presence pervades
No company
In this lonely labyrinth
Only phantoms
The only figures resembling humanity
Are the corpses of those before
Who couldn't navigate this torturous structure
And of course, the masquerading phantoms
My soul they aim to puncture

I tried closing my eyes
But I just kept running into walls
I tried sleeping through it
But I just sank deeper into the basement
When I attempted to join the phantoms
You were there
You waited until I was hanging there
On the rope
And eviscerated everything
Lycanthrope
The rope in shreds
Your heart then fled
Leaving me alone again
Lying in my exhausted blood
The phantoms sensed my desperation
And took advantage of my disorientation
So I ran to the darkest recesses of the basement
To retrieve my blindfold and sledgehammer
But is my hammer powerful enough?
Will visual impairment abstain the trickery of ghosts?

I put Sisyphus to shame
With the determination I utilize to demolish these walls
But the phantoms are devious
They ***** new facades
Thicker, sturdier, with odder textures
I destroy them all the same
It just takes a bit more time
And time means nothing
To a man who's sole purpose is knocking down walls
And cowering from apparitions
Yet a man means nothing
To a time ruled by phantoms
Stephan Jul 2016
.

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound

Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew

Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone

Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe

Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear

Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand

Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud

“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again

Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall

Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”


So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned

Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
Just look around you and you'll notice that every day there's another sucker born
Another mother fuucker trying to pick around the thorn
But there'll never be breath blown through the victory horn and there won't be one to worn
Cause the new norm is news meant to deform not to inform
Leaving only torn fragments of real mixed with lies, a new truth is born
And it's one that defies the meaning of truth so it's armor for our thoughts and soul that must be worn

Cause it's forced upon every sense, attached to ignorance, illegal for an opinion to be drawn
It's a new dawn where rational thinking is gone, new laws signed in crayon
And it doesn't matter what paawn gets passed the baton when an election comes along
Cause it was years ago that this corruption spawn with a freedom slogan button on
And it's the divide that's grown from a line to a deep chasm of a wide canyon
That'll be our legacy, the legend we pass on till we feel defeat and meet the same demise that fell upon Krypton

It's crazy how we as a society love to single out one to staple blame on, makes it simple
But every man that's held an oval as his office might as well have been a floating carcass, dead in the water from the get go
Don't just agree cause I said so, that's half the problem yo, go do your own research bro
And know that they fear intelligence so go gather up a couple library's full
And don't jump in half cockeed like you only got one teesticle
Give it your all, fuuck being humble, we keep this shiit up we're all in fuuckin trouble
So burst this bubble, let it trasnform to rubble, forget being subtle
It's time to break huddle and be a factor in this much needed rebuttal
Screamed in the face paced on this ancient government scandal

But fuuck it. I'm only one person and not the one to change it cause I'm not perfect
But my imperfectly perfect plan sits perched in dust, never to be touched like it's deadly sick
Like a dripping diick, you pretend you don't have it 'til the graphic turns horrific
Then they say it's fake news but you're looking at the problem, starring derectly at it
But it's me that's ignorant and insignificant? I see it different you one percenter priick

I have a thought, just a notion, top of my head, tell me what you think
How long can we survive on the brink? On a doomed vessel destined to sink?
Holding the knowledge of where the boat is weak, have known about the leak but putting off repairs till next week
We can see the old, rusty chain of command, it's obvious who's the weakest link
But if we the people aren't in sync we're all gonna drown in the drink
The spiked cool aids laid out just waiting for that sly wink
The nod to give the go-ahead once we're in to deep, swerling round the bottom of the sink

But there's more of us then them so I say we push back
Take the power that we hold off the rack, grow a pair of metaphorical baalls in a metaphorical nuut sack and attack
Put on Hatebreed as the soundtrack and dish out some payback
This is a call to all who can't just lay back like seats in a Maybach and watch the train skip off track
You don't need an almanac to predict this fact, the shiit storm is here, lead by a maniac
And if we don't take our country back then it's our fault, not theirs, that the future seems bleek and black
Let that fact sink in and fill the crack like plaque stacked from years of no contact
Then get back to me when you see clearly that the peace tready that was eagerly signed so freely is actually a death contact

You can't dispute that once you've read the small print on the back of this sinister contract
And realize we've given to much slack but we do hold the rains, we must pull back
But mustn't hold back, can't afford to hoard the ball and record a sac
It's already fourth down and forever, standing in our own in zone taking the snap
A hail Mary is our only hope, but it might be crazy enough to be the key to the exact play we need to get the lead back
We lose this game and that's it, no respawn, no next season to fall back on, blap, extinction just like that
But fuuck that **** Jack, I'll fight till my last breath escapes me, I ain't going out like that
Can't give up with my back turned to a population under attack
Cowering in a ransacked bomb shelter resembling the shrieking shack
Can't do it, no matter our differences no one deserves that
But I'm going to need all the help I can get to keep this flaming wreckage off the tarmac

So please, as soon as the Kodak filters been lifted and you see the mess that we've been gifted
You'll come join the million other kindred spirits that have enlisted
No longer tainted by politicians political poison, no longer frightened
Instead, our ability to sift through the ******* has been heightened
With no blinders I'm enlightened now, our vision has readjusted, the true path brightened
Our senses now sharp as a tack like they've been augmented, you look frightened
And I'm ready to attack, take our lives back, combat tested
And mother approved, well connected, you've been vetted
And we've all come to the conclusion that it's time this reign of terror ended
Way past time for this regime to be upended
Quickly removed and  permanently suspended
Only then can we drop the act, we won't need to pretend
And we can say, "
Marya123 Aug 2017
It's been two years since I fell down
Into a storm within my ground.
It's been two years since I tasted Hell
Staying mute while I wanted to yell.
It's been two years since I revealed it all
Cowering low when I couldn't stand tall.
It's been two years since I was strong
With everything I knew being wrong.

Now that I stand on my own two feet
Will construction ever be complete?
Now that I'm starting to smile once more
Will they ever heal, the wounds that were sore?
Now that I'm learning to walk again
Henceforth, will I be spared more pain?
Now that I know there's much to see
Will I fulfill my own Destiny?
Breaking chains, drenched in the rain.

I’m Sitting
Waiting
Thinking
Drinking
Decaying
Breaking
Shaking
Unshackling
A step
Two more
Bright
Open sky
Cloudy
Smells like
Lilac, lavender
metallic Feast
Flowers
The scent
Intoxicating
Tormenting
Corroding
Blackening
Darker
Hiding now
Colors
Fading
I’m losing
Hiding in Crates
Dying, Empty
Emotionless
Instinct... Animalistic
How basic
How human like,
Cowering in the sight of
Ones reflection
How sad,
How detestable
Grotesque
I’ve become what I fear
“Myself.”
My dreams whisper sweet things
And surreptitiously speak to me
My waking words are rote and empty
-spilling with hypocrisy
Yet their comforting embrace
Simply bring smiles to my face
Filling my mind while I'm asleep

They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake
To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake
You see I wake in a storm
Simultaneously feeling constrained
To my bed
I can't get up while there's no filter
For the rush of noises in my head

If there's a difference between
What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy
To imagine my reprieve
Why can I only experience a vivid life
While I sleep
Then once again wake up
To this Fear Doubt and Anger
Choking me

Invoking me by pushing buttons
Of their endless promises
To for certain be found in youth
While my vision is livid sinning
Contemplating and pinpointing
Who too close is uncouth
You sit there and feed my veins
An explanation to your lies
With all the compromised
Washed up water
Memorized methods
Coping mechanisms
While it's your heart that remains
Aloof

Then sit there in desperation
Reiterating as if you know
The deep introspective answer
When any fool can see your wisdom
Is wrought in the vanity
Of a talented dancer

If you lost the truth of sanity
Would you retrieve it for ten cents
Or would you search inside
Before hiding from the confines
Of a necessary moment
I'd rather die or sacrifice my life
Before cowering from what's hidden
The message so raw
That counts your flaws
Like there was some proof
In what is missing

But ultimately I guess
It comes down to the small decision
The chip on my shoulder
That became a boulder
When I reached out
For my inner vision.

So while I feel so disparate and alone
In the trenches losing my senses
Will I be the hero or be the villain
Will I let the poison make me it's toy
Or take the penicillin

*Some days my life feels as heavy
As that last breath left over
From how loudly I shout
But I guess a general synopsis to you
Of how I sometimes feel inside
Is a decent first step to waking up
While I'm down and out
I realize that a lot of lines were taken from other poems of mine. It's supposed to be written like that
Cronedrome Jul 2018
I stare into the space outside of you
Is it now
Will you give me the excuse Im always waiting for
Will you give me the excuse
Will you take all you've learned from these long nights
And longer days that float
Then wizz past like the eternity of a skydrop
Where the heart pounds faster than the sound of blood
And time stops

Too fast
So addictive
Full body shocking echos of sensation invade at random
Chemical flashback still-frames
Stir ancient Bonobo DNA into frenzied tool construction
So that I can have some more
Always more
I want more

Is it now
Will you take all you've learned from this telepathic dance
Of  fire fighting fire
will you give me the reason Im always hoping for
A secret I pretend to keep hidden from myself
Will you give me the excuse
Is it now

What are you
Who do you think you are
You read me so well with your body
Help manifest prophecies of pleasure in my pain
We take only what we need of each other's language
Syllables distorted by fresh intakes of breath
Newborn grammar crackles in the impulse of our mingled sweat
And in the chaos of sparkplug cell explosion
I am home

How human of me to decide
That I might just about be able to grasp infinity
In a few sharp moments of oblivion
But what can I do
My memory like yours is bloodcode
Millenia of dancing kept vague is a mercy
When fears longevity demands a louder voice

So what can I do
What do I know anyway
What am I
Who do you think I am
Is it now

Beauty
So much pleasure
Dizzy illusion that this motion
Is all the poetry I'll ever need
We sanctify the pain that brought us here
Without it we would never know
I am a seasoned devotee
And now hungrily I carve your separate pain into the scripture
This is power
Electricity that can never be destroyed

But now I stare into the space outside of you
The wave of shock in my blood
This time runs cold
Fist in my diaphragm
Breath labours in my chest
And I am home

In the old language I am so ******* sick of hearing
Declarations of war are never accidental
So please, let's not bother to pretend that we don't know
This mythology has nothing left now to enchant
Nothing to offer but the same cowering, mean spirited
Petrified and shrivelled desperation
That is the battle cry of every war
Everwhere
Every single ******* time

The root of so much evil
Lack
Of Imagination.

Control is always illusion
Betrayal always an insult to intelligence
And that is why
You can't look me in the face now
You betray yourself in this role
A waste of masochistic potential that you expend
On making yourself small in my eyes

And for what
I understand too well
This language is old
But not as ancient as they
And You
Would have us believe

I understand too well
This story is tired and hollow
This story is flat
A mythology so corrupt that even the old dears
With sinister, insipid eyes
Barely manage to keep a straight face

You join their ranks
With just a few short words
You join their ranks
With just a few short words that cloud your eyes
And widen mine to a horror
You try to convince me I have no right to
To a horror
You try to convince yourself that you don't see

Is it now
Is it an excuse that I've been waiting for
Or was it this
Dreadful feeling of inevitability
Did I forget?
Do I sleep with my enemy
Or is this just an accident of time in this geography
Too slow
Too dead for me
Yes
This is now
Layne Joy Apr 22
is celebrated with a call through tin can phones
connected by yarn-                           to us. He sends warm wishes and warnings, slurred together as                spirits replace blood. Our kiss was nine rings around the tin can ago,      under a streetlamp where you've unveiled a pool of               Acacias and shamrocks.

We are crafted of cement chips from the streets we once sauntered.
We grasp for one another's hands on playground equipment,
stomachs full of one-dollar cinnamon rolls from Jewel-Osco,
cowering from the sun like children in a blanket fort.

we are safe                 when we are together              we are invincible

There will always be splinters of us. My name
is spelled out where the light meets the street  –
a balmy, January sunset           birthing,
                                                                ­      crawling to a dry.
D Letwixt Oct 2018
All the things we neglect to say or feel
are stored up somewhere
swirling and undulating in the deep

Eventually, they all rise up--
in a single violent urge
it exits our cowering bodies all at once

and there's nothing one can do but shake
Jen Oct 2018
Life.
Hot applesauce.
Cold sausages,
Linked to hostages,
Another, then another.
Apostles cowering
As the ground beneath,
Collapses,
The maharajah's jeweled face,
Buried;
Switching between channels:
All blind, all empty.
Cold applesauce.
Rotten sausages,
20,000 Leagues
And no more
Hostages.
This is just a little poem about how sometimes life can be stranger than fiction...almost as if nothing fazes us anymore.
kirk Feb 24
A wolf stands on the everglades, upon the jagged stone
Moonlight shines on flowered tracks, a grey and shadowed tone
Shivers of the full moon, why do I feel alone
The water falls inside my soul, and chills me to the bone

Streams reflect the mountain rock, the image from the ledge
Heartbeats pound into my chest, as I lay on the edge
Is the blood oath my only hope, is this my finale pledge
A glimmer through the old oak trees, past the trampled hedge

I am drawn towards the gorge, where old paths cross and wind
Running across the valley land, I leave the ponds behind
Is the wolf now following, or is this in my mind?
What's beyond those flowered tracks, what am I going to find?

A Raft floats in the harbour, a small child comes in sight
My mind is taken over, by the power of the night
Could my salvation be the blood, before the mornings light
Hunger will be satisfied, if a wolf's fang takes it's bite

Approaching the lake near the bay, a look into the Childs eyes
Am I compelled to cause harm, am I in a different guise
Songs are carried by the winds, when I hear those distant cries
What is down at Flowered Tracks, where the crooked beaked crow flies

A frightened girl is cowering, behind the damp hay stacks
On the prowl of claw and tooth, when the wolf attacks
Does a silver bullet count, what exactly are the facts
Fairy songs are Calling me, I must return to Flowered Tracks
A sequel to Flowered Tracks which I wrote in May 2018, it is also now connected to another poem I wrote called The Calling written in March of the same year, which at the time of writing was totally unrelated so I thought it would be nice to make them connect to each other, links for both are provided below

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2509117/flowered-tracks/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2422159/the-calling/
Jo Dec 2018
There is a fire:
Five foot four, with tongues of flame,
Sipping beer, tasting glass, spitting shards.
Four walls, no doors, one window, shrouded in darkness.
The heat builds, smoke rising, obscuring the way out.
“It’s nothing,” you say,
“It’s not my fault,” you say,
“I’ll stop this time,” you say,
An incantation for the last two, no four, no sixteen years.
It’s the same dance, accusations and defenses laced with excuses and empty promises,
We’ve all been doing it since I can remember.
My father leaves the room, cowering through the flames licking at his heels,
Showing me the way out, lifting the latch to the window.
He does not take me with him.
I stay, even though I know better after years of learning and mistakes.
I face the chaos with the bravado of a child,
Grasping for clarity,
Gasping for air.
Shaking, spineless, silenced.
I cannot fix it,
I’m helpless to change it;
I clean up, business as usual, just let it pass.
Eventually, you get well.
The fire is quiet,
A flickering flame in a candle, burning sweetly,
The only evidence of the fire is ash swept and gathered in dusty corners.
My father returns from his hideout, welcoming you back with open arms and loving memories.
You get out of bed, you do the laundry, you go to work, you feed the dog.
You remind me that there is no fire,
There never was any fire,
There won’t ever be any more fire.
I used to believe you when you promised to stop,
When you said I could trust you,
When you battled the flames even though you were the fire --
And you won.
But embers glowing brightly don’t die, they’re never fully extinguished.
With the tiniest gust of wind, they can be rekindled,
Growing and morphing,
Moving, burning, suffocating,
Cyclical, unpredictable
Chaos.
Martin Heath May 17
The Bells In The Meadow -

In the wildness of my western meadow drenched in green
Where as a boy and a boy weary in dreams
Toads wore thorns of Kings roamed beneath black cloaked stars
And stars that then danced in bright milky white rapport
Sun in summer's time soon scorched small minds at play
Laying in wait in the tall old Oaks curled in her crusted arms
Ambushing boys armed with carved wood rifles blood red dried scars
In the wildness of my meadow lay unborn futures unseen

Meadow's wilderness wild washed in false sweet delights
Stalking feeding pheasants 'til fleeing in frantic flight
Fantasies soared 'neath the sun soaking closed narrow rows
Of fattened trees dangling figs for me and the shy sparrow
Wind in winter's time blew until moist warm mornings in May
While the dogs and the dogs of the children still ran
Free to root out red furred squirrels so frightened and
Flee over the meadow's grass green while futures burned bright

Memories quieted on the western meadow
Where as a man and a man of years unknown
Grown the tarnished thistle thick the stained sweetbrier
Cowering in the bright milky waywardly stars
Horned toads gone their tired desperate ways
Carved rusted wood rifles line dried Christmas Tree forts
Hounds their great grandpups groomed in gallant rapport
Memories of my western meadow green where broken bells toll
LylexRose Aug 2018
I just want to let you know...
I appreciate time we spent together...
Though short as it was, it was worth every second...

If love is a game then I'm loosing it, if love is a drink then I'm boozing it, I have no choice but I'm choosing it, blacked out glass and I still see through it, maybe I still wondering what could've been, what might of been, only it's too late to see I
used to see, can you believe, time shared but you were hardly free, only been 3 months and you had to leave, so far away feels like you're over seas, but you're so close, just out of reach, why can't get you, glued to home and can't move my feet, you make me loose myself so I'll be blowing ****, I'm the rapper lost in love with no boundaries, I'm in too deep, I stand alone, close my eyes and I see you here with me...

Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head...
Rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...


20 years from now we could end up together; who knows, seems like forever but let the impossible grow, you really showed me how to do this, without you I'm hopeless, I sit on the night bus writing this feeling down right broken, the light of life blinding my eyes, how did I let you go, I remember cowering in the corner, police on the road, sirens in my head, letting my tears flow, a kid with no chance, been useless from the get go, so much ****  has phased me, but no more you know, the things I've seen I how you've never, I told you my plans and you told me to "hit the road". I lost my head, lost for words, I see it in your eyes, from the my music you've heard, the feeling of desire, in your eyes, I feel you burn, you've scarred me from your fire, ours eyes have locked with my hands on your thighs, your hair let loose, and your lips never slip lies, and I've told you from the start, we can never be together and that it's on my mind, your love I've lost, lost and never found...

Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head...
Rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...

 I like to think I'm a g, good luck with that, I feel like I'm losing it all, would I give up for you in fact, thats a question that passed my mind, and I find life like an exam you have to pass, she knows that, such a shame I failed that class, I know you like you know me, you, only things is our lives contrast, your off to University, I stayed behind, I'll just have to deal with that... I'm sorry...

Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head, rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...
A goodbye to the one person in my life who changed me for the better.
Aaron Elswick Dec 2018
We're loose associations.
Brutality queues the phrases.
Reality loses luster,
in fallow with boot to daisies .

Cowering and embracing
our trusted tomes,
honing a fruitless joke,
that only touches on tones that suit the layman

Famous and clueless faces.
Racing to rue the cadence.
Faking a sweet embrace,
for imminent tears, but grew impatient.

California coos
sooth impostor fits,
but it's a syndrome
fifty shades dense,
and way to thick to fit the staples.

In case you were getting wayward;
our guiding fables,
sentinels that they are,
will guard the stables
and bark orders,
pouring out the spirits
and clearing history,
with brazen logic.
Honestly,
I carved a broken heart,
instead of tapping the maple,
sue me.
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