If my bed was bigger would you have laid with me
Will you excuse the squeeze in the place of comfortability
Our bodies close, replace our blankets with the heat
flowing, mellifluously reverberating, from within

My heavy mind, spiralling in self abhor
Dawdles on a pillow, simpering with decay
Solace I discovered in your arms instead, taming the uproar
The bane of your predicament, your spirits sway

The twilight of distraught tickles the hairs on my arms
But now comes the noon of melancholia.
My Ivy legs cripples your limbs, the bruises I see- constellations
Contradictory you lament, the cries a synergy of appoggiatura

A long time ago, you asked for my hand
Belittling the shards in my bossoms
Dismissing my remonstrance; to Hell with it
“I can bear it, I know I can.”

But you couldn’t. No, you wouldn’t
Your body has began to gnaw
The dilapidated bed creaks, your temper peaks
“I’m out, loving you isn’t the law.”

The undeniable sense of presence, seen through the realms of deception...
Amidst the very capillaries strung infinitesimally throughout our bodies...
Overwhelming at times, the very concept cripples our thoughts,
Circling us back to seemingly endless questions -
Endless roads without a point of reference,
Leaving us standing in a dark crowded space searching for the unreachable light...
Yet, the meaning behind the unseen presence forces the deluded mind to forge on -
Stretching our morbid ideals even further...
Leaving us the inhibited beings we possess...
Still concluding at plebeian answers -
Fitting, yet discouraging...
The common capacity of our restraining thought process, leaves us almost hopeless to accumulate the information needed to fulfill our determining destination...
But it is that feeling,
That inkling sensation of the undeniable presence that keeps us searching -
That gives us hope...
And in that minute innovative state we dwell on what could be...

I sweet talk to a wishing well, truth or lies, even I can’t tell
My childhood bites, it cut my teeth;
Grounded and pounded like agency beef.
Said goodbye to a vanishing world, did a savage dance with a native girl.
Flashes and chills, it’s a strange sensation
Started from scratch it’s a skilled creation.

Head hurts but it could be worse, I wake up in the morning and it’s
"good night, nurse"
pulled from the warmth of the womb, slapped then cursed
it’s a fine line and it’s ill rehearsed.

It’s a wonderful life filled with terrible things, beautiful cripples who rip off our wings as we silently suffer their arrows & slings, desecrate, suffocate as it smothers and clings.
Brain slowly melting like butter on toast, I use it the least when I need it the most
Martians & cretins, with numbers in millions, they slither and slide seeming rather reptilian.
Love lies and it goes like this, I will garnish your body with my spastic kiss.
Lost my life when I lost control, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

It steals you away with a madness at night, burns through your soul, this acetylene knife.
Takes away all the things that I once took for granted, ravaged my cage as I raged and I ranted.
As loud as the silence inside my head, should have run for the hills, took cover
instead now I live in the streets and the whole world’s my home.
It’s a hard life, and it’s getting old…

Still taking a thrashing with gnashing of teeth, a healthy disguise, a sick underneath. My head is still ringing, better answer the phone
It’s a timeline, I put it on hold.

You can be a go-getter or get it to go, from the firestorms above to the hellstrom below. We can burn and return to the scene of the crime, it’s a fine line, it gets finer with time…

I believed, was deceived, bought into this disease. You can **** it & sell it, or will it to me. Sainted babies paint rattles, then fall out of trees. Legs dissolving, devolving, return to the seas.
So show that you know me, then ******* to bits. Re-assemble the parts and see where they fit. I got holes in the soles of my shoes from a lifetime spent running away, gunning for the fine line.

Left my guts in your gutter, my brain on your stairs. Lost my nerve in your universe, now I don’t dare. I could live like a king in your starvation zone, or I could be Zeus in the ghettos of Rome.
Ignoble and cruel, indisposed disposition. Sue yourself lawyer, heal thyself physician. Jesus died for the sins for which we still atone, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

All this praise is a slow poison which cripples under my skin.
You can not see and can not feel
  but you will see its appeal.
It dazzles the one who lays its eyes upon and
glances surfaces by its arrival.
Oh and
oh and
oh and
oh how i grovel upon its arrival as it may gesture empathy but it is not.
i slowly decompose in its sedimentation.
It is a disguise.
A disguise.
One must not fall yet i fall.
I fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
Fall and fail.
How many times has it been?
Since i've felt this eradicating feeling from my core.
Has it been moments ?
Days? months?
years?
My whole existence?

Words speak
What the soul hides
And the soul hides
Behind my eyes

It sees all
Drinking it all in
Feelings left unsaid
Thoughts left un-thought

Just a day ago
All I wanted to do was nothing
And all I ever wanted was a slice
Of that beautiful reality

But I'm hungry for cake
I crave for a pie
I crave for Pi
I crave for transcendence

I have a choice to make
And another tomorrow
Maybe two more, the day
After that

But what if I sit here
And wait
Scared out of my wits
Of regret

Regret is scary
He's big, he's soul crushing
He cripples hope
By just existing

This too shall pass
This everlasting night
Shall turn warm,
Bright, with colours

And maybe then
I'll be happy again
And maybe then
I'll be warm again

Fatal Flaws
We all have them
One, two, three, we all have something that makes us imperfect

Fatal Flaws,
It's what makes us humans
It's the cause of our joy, pain,
It's the reason of our  cries in vain

Fatal Flaws
Everyone has at least one
Vanity, Greed, Soft-Heart, Weak Willed, Too Loyal
It's all within us,
These Fatal Flaws

Fatal Flaws
They're what makes us different
What gives everyone a different pain
They're why we all have a different burden

I think too much,
I love too much,
I bleed and cry behind locked doors
Never revealing the pain that blinds me
This darkness that cripples me, I never share the burden of it
I fight it all alone
Trying to be good even when I'm dying inside all alone
I do it all by myself
And force smiles to please everyone
I try to help others with their battles while I lose my own
To do it all
That's my Fatal Flaw

What is Yours?

When madness starts to breed
And soul cripples with need
Dance to the rhythm of fire
and let the feet bleed

When fire burns with passion
and madness starts to ashen
dance and dance and dance
till fire unites with ocean !!

I opened the page and read through the book.
Its title was --Hello Poetry!!.
BUT!! and this is a big BUT!!
It turned out to be overall a PRETTY but juvenile competition as to who could write the most rubbishy so called
'poems' in the Universe!!!
But to my amazement there was an even deeper malaise.
It was a cover for a competition to discover who could write most nauseous strings of meaningless associated words praising the brain dead scribblers of this twee juvenile ******* with **** licking adjective after **** licking adjective.
Emotional cripples all!!.
Do any of you really belive the **** you write is 'poetry'??? REALLY!!!!
I mean---come on!!

www.beyondenlightenment.c0.uk

Mother Teresa - love immortal
In frail human frame;
Angel of peace and compassion,
Knew no bounds of caste or creed:
With arms outstretched,
Waded through slums forsaken
To help the poor in their humble homes:
Orphans discarded, dying destitutes,          
Deserted cripples and lepers deformed,
Found in her a ministering angel
Whose gentle touch revived hope;
Brought solace and joy.  
Unmindful of praise or blame,
To serve the poor was her only aim,
And never did she crave for wealth or fame.
Like St.Francis of Assisi, she prayed -
" Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace,
" Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
" Where there is injury, pardon,
" Where there is doubt, faith,
" Where there is despair, hope......."
Life inspiring, a splendid saga
Of selfless service and sacrifice.
For ever she lives in the loving hearts
Of those who strive to rid the world
Of sorrow, misery and distress.
           **     M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India.    mgnmurthy4@gmail

Gazing warmly at a freshly set pearl necklace
The source for which was wholly reckless
A girl sheds tears of convoluted joy
Wondering if she’s just a manipulated toy
A body, gift-wrapped and sold
For no more than half her weight in gold
The new in search of old
Grasping at a material hold

…

Passive thoughts draw him away from the hummer
He was gifted in pursuit of slumber
Light breaking in through a window pane
Illuminates developmental strain
The man pounds back a bottle, or, what little remained
A bit trickled down, leaving his shirt stained
Looks over to see a girl ashamed
Of all within her which had so recently changed

…

He wasn’t handsome, but the girl didn’t mind
Through gifts, he showed himself to be overly kind
The man was a bit heavy set
But that didn’t stop her from getting wet
Innocence, a forgotten trait
Her consciousness told it straight.
But the action bared no weight
It was just a simple twist of fate

…

Age cripples all who care
Leading youthful eyes to wander and stare
Desperation hunts with the worst of intent
For a youthful soul in search of dissent
It lasts as long as it can
Which isn’t, truthfully, a long span
He leaves a concrete man
While the girl’s just a flash in the pan
…

Here are two pupils
whose moons of black
transform to cripples
all who look:

each lovely lady
who peers inside
take on the body
of a toad.

Within these mirrors
the world inverts:
the fond admirer's
burning darts

turn back to injure
the thrusting hand
and inflame to danger
the scarlet wound.

I sought my image
in the scorching glass,
for what fire could damage
a witch's face?

So I stared in that furnace
where beauties char
but found radiant Venus
reflected there.

My body is weak and my heart is hanging on by its last string
-
The faith and hope that once was so easily attainable is lost and I do not know where to go to regain strength or find a home
you were my home,
you were my strength and now without you my body is more frail than ever. The cold cripples me without having you to wrap myself in.
The hardships of life or never ending and with each punch that God throws at me, I become weak and vulnerable
Easily susceptible to fall into immoral behavior
I need something, someone, I need you
Count the days you said you would love me, was there ever any truth to your words?
You said you wouldn't and you did.
At this point my chest is aching and my Love, nor your love is needed to patch up any old wounds.
Better I will be, I will grow and find new loves, I will try new loves
No more hiding, waiting for someone like you to come along to heal me.
Words are met with actions.
So, keep lying to yourself to get by- time can only heal you if you will let it. I am welcoming time by not counting the days you have been gone-
Allowing myself to become something more than an object to reminisce.
I am worthy of so much more than just your love

Everything fades as you slowly walk with your feet cushioned underneath by tiny particles of softly shaded sand.
The ocean waves mist you as they gently collide into the thick mass of denim-blue water—
Strands of straggly hair get tangled in the quiet, gentle breeze.
Your mind clears as you walk into the distant sunset of gorgeous colour.
Nothing can come between your spirit and the peace and harmony.
You feel so free and majestic; it almost seems as if you’re soaring over the ocean blue—
Like a pearl white seagull with nothing better to do.
You halt and splash into the sea for a fresh fish meal.
Feeling slightly heavy after indulging the innocent creature, you flutter your wings, slowly ascending into the night sky.
Down below you can hear the tiny footsteps of a strange, little girl.
She notices you as you float down and land on top of a small, wooden post a few inches in front of her.
She stares into your bright dandelion-coloured eyes.
Something very bizarre and unusual happens, a weird yet fascinating connection.
Your feathers crackle, and the girl cripples.
Both of you form into one beneath the sand and wait for another lost soul to come across you and join the cycle—
The cycle of peace through a demented one’s eyes.

Unto the maw of Oblivion, I dare to stand!
All alone without the company of man;
So as my madness drives me deeper within,
Doing so without a look back and by the guide of my hand.

Stabbing through a peerless darkness swallowing even the slightest of light,
Engulfing all around me, nothing surfaces to my sight.

Deep into this jungle where groans accompany screams,
I struggle to open my eyes in a desperate effort to see.
As I had feared, they are already open as wide as can be.

And so in this grave truth, I set out unto this hopeless mystery
With my hand before me and my other behind me.
I walk among the shadows surrounding me.
Touching and breathing all the smells this cavern seethes;
Upon every sulfurous whim and every inhale I dare to take,
Deep within my throat, I often hesitate.
To taste what I breathe, and with the most restraint, I try
Keep myself from vomiting all over the place.

Not that the smells I would contribute would be anything new
For all I have smelled foul, disturbing, and putrid, but none compare to these…
These scents forbidding me to travel any further.

Sheathing my mouth and nose with utmost haste
And doing so in an effort to never again taste these vile scents
Which have trespassed upon my tongue.

Into my body, heart and lungs.
The once mere groans slowly grow
Into weeping howls echoing to and fro

What was once soft cries,
Now becoming louder with each step I take…
I try to move, I try to muster the strength to put my left foot forward.
But the fear slowly grips me
As I try to step forth, all I feel is a consuming agony.

From the muscles of my feet to my mouth,
I collapse upon these stairs and descend into shadow.
Tumbling and smacking each violent step;
Much too often I can feel a new limb snap.

I had barely made my fall into the Maw of Oblivion
Only to open my eyes to see the world I’ve fallen into.
A beastly dog cloaked in rough ebony fur stands from within.
Fur thick as steel, glistering, and erupting the loudest bark I’ve ever heard.
Eyes, nothing less than ghostly moons,
And sprouting three heads I’m sure others would claim absurd.

Three heads with each possessing their own set of haunting eyes,
Glaring upon me as crescent moons that have once lit the night.

Doing so with such a deathly gaze unto my paralyzed stare,
Each snarl and bark given by a different beastly mouth,
Erupting the smells I had previously smelled so foul.

As fear itself slowly cripples my heart;
Each heavy foot step this beast takes,
From every step, the world surrounding me violently quakes.

Larger than any sort of monster I’ve ever seen.
With every blink, the beast trespasses closer unto me.
With my eyes locked by fear,
I close them in desperation and pray what I’ve seen isn’t truly there.

And as the thundering foot steps come closer,
And every muscle begins to tremble,
From the shuttering sounds and smells,
Corrupting every thought as I accept I’ve foolishly descended into Hell.

An enormous gob of slobber descends upon my leg,
Only clarifying I’ve bought a one way ticket unto my grave.
So warm and diluting what ever hope I might have,
In this second which seems forever, I open my eyes.

To see the ghastly dog standing with each of its heads at each of my sides,
One before me, and two more on each side of me.
No where to go.
No where to run.

I plead a prayer unto my God.
“In these jungles of hell where I’ve made my fall. Please remove this dog. From my sight and from my presence. Do so with no hesitance.  Forgive me for a life time of sin. I beg for your forgiveness for I am just a feeble man.  Of the shores of Italy, will you not take pity upon me? For I was born a sinner and I have sinned.”
And so as my prayer had concluded,
The beastly spoke in a never before heard hymn

“Forgiveness, a tool of the weak!” The center head spoke unto me.
“Can’t you see, you’re a fool to beg, a fool…” The left said unto me.
“Did you expect heaven as a result of your blasphemy? To beg for forgiveness before your death means nothing!  You’ve had a lifetime to change, and change you did NOT!” The right roared into my ear.

“Beg for your savior mortal for none can save you now!” The center howled unto me.
“For you WILL NEVER ESCAPE THE BOWELS OF HELL!” They all cataclysmically roar unto me.

As the roof began to rumble and this ghoulish dog gripped me within its fangs.
It did so instructing the most ferocious pain.
I arise in shock as each head has a different limb of me.
In one furious tug, it rips my skin in all directions,
Severing me limb from limb.

And chuckling as my torso and single remaining leg clash upon the ground
Enforcing a heavy THUD sound.
In this pool of my own blood,
I look to the cavernous ceiling above.
No hope or light shine through.

Only the emptiness of the dog’s mouth beheld by a gate of enormous teeth,
Clamping around my neck as I lose sight of all I had once seen.

CONGRESSIONAL EDICT

Go home soldier;
No whining allowed.
Shut up soldier;
It’s enough to be proud.
Be proud you fought
To defend our systems.
Just stop *******
About things wrong with them.

Go away, soldier;
So what if you lost a leg?
Man up, soldier;
It is not polite to beg.
You did your bit fine
It serves no purpose to lag.
Shut up now, for good;
Your words seem to be a brag.

Bug off, soldier;
Yours is an old sad song.
Who cares soldier?
We’re important, so go along.
We have work to do now
And laws to undo and make.
We have no time for cripples,
How much whining can we take?

Buck up, soldier;
The churches will feed you.
Not us, soldier;
We no longer need you.
You fought for your country
In the wars of yesterday.
That is an old, sad story.
So, just go away.

I know all this can be redeemed
Like smoothing out all the wrinkles in the trees.
Tangled roots untangling themselves
Simply for the sake of satisfying a salvation of souls.

But the roots will never leave the earth.
As much as I beg them to
REACH out to the sky
like their brother branches do.

The grooves in the bark refuse, too.
Too deep are they set in their ways,
Too reliant are they on their habits.
Too stiff. Too rigid.

Sad, cowardly roots, can you not for one moment transcend your assignments?
Are you so afraid to run that you crawl?
I'm trying to save you. I'm trying.
I'm trying.

But the soil is so damp with ignorance.
Deaf eyes
Blind hands hesitate before every procession.
Cripples who could fly if they but tried.

The bark remaining puckered,
The roots remaining shy.
Until one thing will succeed:
The Tree.

When it come
it crashes
it cripples me
and I become weak.
I cannot step through the veil of disgust
nor can I scream
to shatter the illusion
cast so deeply from years of your
abuse.
So I grow
and despair
and hope
that no one knows of my
struggle.

Words seem to be all I'm good at, and I'ts the only thing that cripples me at the same time
Cat had my tongue, I didn't want it back
Scaredy cat, hardly frightened
My speech implies that of an enlightened
Thinker, I think, I thought
Words, on a stage, I'm distrought
Rigormotis set in, stone, to the bone
Keep those words to myself, I'd rather be alone

Fear is interesting.
It strengthens some.
Makes some irrational.
Cripples me in my tracks.
I fear, that I am not good enough.
Not for others, for myself.

I believe in the match, white phosphorus,
scratch of Bic lighter spurting like a miniature sun
in the deadpan havoc of the darkest night.

I believe in the neon sign, blare of argon
red like lava. The invitation to come inside a place
where everyone is a saint in rehabilitation.

I do not believe in a steeple. I do have a church:
it is full of cripples carrying their hearts like a crutch.
It is full of ***** fingernails, swollen thumbs,

epileptic prayer circles, a choir of bums, riff-raff,
pulled off the street into the warmth of this fiery song.
We are all martyrs burning, like pyres, exploding

in moments of sorrow like gunpowder. God is not
in this church. We are too far from his icy heaven to hear
the cold menace of his manic threats. We are aflame,

making heaven out of the hells we were born into,
the ones we had no choice but to carry like a deformation,
but making our heavens the kind where work is.

We have built heaven out of pillars of words. We
have scorched even the newest of testaments, sifting
through its ash to divine new meaning of resurrection.

I do not believe heaven or hell are nouns. I do not
believe they are adjectives. They are verbs! ******* it
they are verbs: boiling or churning with photographs

of every failure, every success, every bruised knee,
every severed tie, every father that did not love us,
every mother who could not save us, every lover who

kissed the dark sides of our light hearts. I believe
you make heaven, that you make hell. I believe in
only the fire, crackling like skin molting from sunburn.

I want only to be consumed. The world is too far ruined
to douse this from me. Let me burn. If you look closely,
there are doves in the smoke, my bones glowing branches.

It's only when
you are in the other room
realize how much you love her.

Stings you the pain
sinks you the gloom
the void seems impassably far.

You wish could walk back to her
cover the space  with a run
look her eyes' dying star
plant there a risen sun.

The other room chills your bone
cripples you with fear
here you are terribly alone
with the hatch shut forever.

Pause before that long distance
where love meets its doom
for hardly is a second chance
once you enter the other room.

Debilitating
When the mind cripples the body
Infuriating
When your youth fades day by day
Hurting
When trust is broken because no one believes you
Yearning
To just get out of bed, while they think you're lazy
Praying
Your pain could go away
Begging
To live a normal life

Its very real
When the mind is so sick, it affects your physical being

Life in middle never bears fruit
Of love or understanding from
Many but a few, and the few that
Do make up for all the loss

In their lives until someone
From outside the family
Can come in and take their hearts
But for the middle that may never

Happen for most all of us
Have been broken down
Emotionally and mentally
To the point that pain
And loss becomes irrelevant
To the point that love becomes

Something to be feared while
Also something to be cherished
The middle knows that while
They may find love in time

Love may never truly find them for eternity
Because all the pain and loss
They felt throughout their
Life built up walls of fear

And anxiety so thick that
Even the strongest drill could
Barely scratch in a hundred
Years of companionship

And though they may try to tear
Down their own walls
The moment they hit
The walls for the first time

All the fear and anxiety that
They built the wall to keep out
Shall come rushing in
Flooding their mind with all the

Remembrances of loneliness
And heartbreak that they’ve
Felt over the years of
Their life that they shut away.

But as all of it floods back
Into their mind they build their
Wall back up faster than either
Could have chipped away

Faster than they can change
The way they look at their
Love, but as they realize
What they are doing they

Push the one they love away
So that they can’t hurt them
Anymore than they already have
That is the life in the middle.

A cycle of fear, and anxiety
That cripples their will to
Love and stretch beyond
What they have been since they can remember.

No one wants to be the middle
For all it represents his heartbreak
That only a few ever try to change
And fewer ever succeed.

Darling, yes, I know, I know, of the tension in your spine
and surely I would heal your pain if only I were thine
I drink and feel the living sweetness lounge upon my teeth
And of course what fills my eyes are the dregs that lie beneath
I close my eyes so not to see this frightful world again
Shall I tell you of my vision, will you understand then?
I cannot control something that cripples along my skin
I cannot stop the surging little flame that roars within

Each hour we breathe
Is a minute to make believe
And the old sister's say
There is only one way to obey

And the last poem to die
Was the best battle cry
The night shows still young
Where now is day's tongue?

Oh later laid
I have already paid
Tell me my way
I listen there is nothing else to say

Where I am born
I am swain
There is nothing else
But a lover's quarrel
And it's cripples cane

In it's nearest death
The sheath there is worn
And where we are born
All else
Is lays naked n' torn

Hear the waves of the ocean
It's sinister whisper
There once was a sister
That said she would listen

I miss the mountains
I miss the valleys
And all their eternal fountains
There were eyes in those hills
That never fit the bill
Yet the assassin with his knife
Never dared missed His ****

I am heading home
You know how I roam
Don't let me bother you
The theft of time
Is nothing to lose

Swearing where I am sworn
I will live with dying poetry
And the complexity of life's symmetry
Will leave me with nothing but
Humanities chemistry

Take me
Where I am not wanted
Take me
Where I am taunted

The knolls are burning
See them
Hear them &
Taste them

There is nothing left here
But the sacred
Ask to be nots

Each face
Holds its shadow
And the widow
Hold's Her flower's

And every contradiction
Spells out
Its own prediction

There is my home
On the road
On my own

I see the plane
I see the rain

And who hears
The questioning sane?
Who unknowingly chooses
To listen
Who is only to blame?

There we are
You and I
On the mar

When we were young
We were naked

Wondrous
Always questioning

Where the serious
Would gain their grim sense
Of youthful satisfaction

In sour
Connotations

In night
We leave

And in day
We dare not
Look back