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Alice Jan 2014
Dark
A house
The moon shining
Showing me the way
My escape guided by light.

White
The light
Shining on me
Filling me with hope
Running away from the house.

Man
Chasing me
I finally escaped
The large White House
With the gas filled room.

Dying
Suffocating now
Not breathing anymore
Re-build the lamp again
Turn it on, the gas dissipates.

Dreaming
Nightmare haunting
Man, dog, gun
Running for my life
BANG—I am no longer asleep.
I had this dream twice so I wrote it down
Aidan A Oct 2017
Do you know solitude like I do -
In which that good morning text doesnt come,
And it feels like the sun itself didn't rise?
That is how the last few days have been
Without you or your words or the thought
That you're there, I'm afraid of the notion
That you no longer care, emotion
We once had for each other
Dissipates into thin air...

Except that isn't true, I still feel
Deeply about my love for you.
I know things haven't been going well
And theres only so much I can do
From a thousand miles away -
An entire world too far from you.
I still listen to the song you wrote
For me, I play it back to back and hope
You still mean every word you sang.

Do you remember that night
Where we fell asleep in each others arms?
A dreamless night was a dream come true
I think about it all the time -
It only makes me hope that you
Will love me once again, the way that you do
I'd trade 6 months in Sydney to relive
That single night with you.

When Tuesday comes, I'm scared
You'll say that you don't need me
The way I need you, all I can do
Is hope that you come back to me.

I miss the way we'd game online
And end the night with a call
The way I feel when you call me "***"
And telling you that I love you
I miss the little pokes on facebook,
Our stupid snaps to each other
The longing for December,
The thought of seeing you again
How we'd talk about getting married,
The idea of three lifetimes with you,
Spending one as birds.
I miss it all.

Do you still see a future with me,
The way I see one with you?
Do you still think about me
Throughout the day,
The way I think 'bout you?
***** tough, guys
What is it that I have done this time to bring the wrath down upon my head?
The burning hatred in your eyes bright with a fury of unknown deeds or words
In my tiptoeing world of never knowing
What blame is pinned to the chest today?
The paranoid delusions of my unsatisfying life failing you with every action
My unworthiness constantly on display that only you can see

I flinch, I tremble, I beg
I endure the belittling, the threats, the humiliations, the staring through me
The **** on your shoe unable to meet your exacting, delusional demands
My unwillingness to bow down at your majesty, your might and intellectual superiority

With the snap of a finger, the rage dissipates
And contrition follows quickly along
If only I would learn, you wouldn’t have to show me my errors
You love me like no-one else would
I am lucky to have you, but I must not keep stepping out of line for you cannot keep doing this
It is for my own good I’m sure
I just don’t think I know or want to know that
And then it is over and the adrenaline is left to slowly creep out of the system
And I want to cry

Not anymore
Not tonight
Tonight I’m going to be free
Free from the sharp tongue
The threats of a pounding unless I comply
The put downs
The constantly being told I am not good enough
And you are the only one for me

I whisper your name
I need you to stir
I need you to see
To feel the coming apocalypse
No movement, no stirring
Again, a little louder
The voice gentle
A parent waking their child without startle
You mutter in the grogginess of dreams
Once more with the hand caressing the cheek
The eyes they open slowly
With some recognition you smile back, but this is the last time that you will
With the anger and vengeance of all those abused, I raise the hammer and with the power of Thor bring it down into the centre of your forehead with a bone cracking thud
The look you gave after the second blow
The look of a confused little boy wondering what had brought this on was overshadowed by the third and final blow
No more
No more threats
No more shouting
No more abuse
No more placating you so you don’t hurt
No more believing what you say
No more put downs
I am worthy
I am good enough
I am my own person
I am me
(You are no more and I am free)
Abusers beware. Vengeance can be sweet.
Joseph Sinclair Feb 2015
I do not walk in measured tread,
I cannot spare the time;
And steady pace is better suited to the dead
Or projects more sublime.

I see them dressed in garb of green
As best befits the land
That harbours jihadist and others more obscene
And not their native sand.

They bear allegiance to no state
That may have sheltered them,
But spread instead their ugly message born of hate
And anxious to condemn.

It would be easy to cast blame
On perpetrators of
The outrage that most freshly has induced our shame
And dissipates our love.

But this would be to hide our guilt
At similar events
That other so-called freedom fighters have but built
And empty rage foments.

The question that we must address
Is why these souls should choose
Defection from their lives of love, and thus aggress?
Why do they not refuse?

What is there that holds them in thrall
And draws them to a place
That their forefathers chose to leave for freedom’s call?
Is it a search for grace?

Is it the hope of paradise
Should they in jihad die?
Seventy-two-virgins is perhaps the promise
On which they then rely?

They claim that Allah is their lord,
that Islam is their life.
They spurn the pen; relying solely on the sword.
The Quran is a knife

with which to cut the Gordian knot
that engirdles their guide.
The jihad route to paradise, the unbeliever’s lot.
But we are mystified.

What must we then on our side do      
that hold freedom dearly?
I just demand the freedom that I give to you
Car moi, je suis Charlie.
Cunning Linguist Jul 2013
Nightmares.
Edge of a bridge.
Very distraught.
About to jump.
Life is valueless.
Screaming.
Sirens.
People encircled to talk me out of it.
Or to watch.

I laugh wildly.
An officer is earnestly appealing me to come back over the railing.
Lucifer manifests beside me.

"You won't do it.
This is a cry for help and you've always been quite the attention seeker.
So go on, jump.
Mean it you coward, you fool.
Make the world a better place.
Waste the knowledge I've bestowed upon you.
You are merely a pupil to my eye.
I shall know your soul."


One foot teetering forward,
Gust of wind knocks me back into the railing.
An angel appears to my right.
Glance left
Satan particulates into a thousand specks of nothing.
And dissipates in the breeze.
The officer is shouting indistinctly somewhere in the background.
"Be not tricked by that devil,
for his only power over you is fear.
Know the light and his evil shall not penetrate your sphere.
Lest ye be swayed, then truly the end is nigh"


I come to my senses.
The officer lends me his hand and helps me back over the railing.
The crowd erupts in applause.
I finally know my life purpose,
I'm overjoyed and overcome with happiness.
My range of vision is spiked with the most vivid palette of colors.
With an about-face I am struck by a bus.

Floating somewhere above my body, watching myself
I question the nature of existence
and awake before I'm offered a reply
Nat Lipstadt Jul 1
prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it

more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence

then came a woman

who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation

and then
poems rebirthed me,
 liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah

and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
                    then came a woman

and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades

and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
lipstadt  reflections of self
PrttyBrd Jun 2010
It seems strange, this thought of admiration
of someone eyeing my soul
Night wind caresses my nakedness
Reluctantly I relinquish control
Muscles relax, and the heart burns slow
Fear dissipates in the mist
Open arms with empty hands
Offer a freedom I cannot resist
Not tethered, but still close to a broken past
To what made me who I have become
To see all the trials that line the path
Still in awe with the positive outcome
copyright©PrttyBrd 11/06/2010
It just struck me as odd
Since we sleep to regain energy
To do the things we need to
The next time the sun rises

But what do we rest in peace for
I think it’s a different kind of sleep
My matter dissipates in the dirt
And awakes to live in the roots
Of all the trees that gave me shade
And the flowers that defined beauty

The only better place I’m going
Is the world beneath your feet.
14 lines, 313 days left.
turn me inside out,
                                 so there is no room to hide.
turn me inside out,
                                 give me a safe haven to confide.
right my wrongs,
                               don't justify them, but understand.
right my wrongs,
                               let me fall, but give me a place to land.
open me up,
                      paint passion before my eyes.
open me up,
                      apprise me with all you hold inside.
cry to me,
                  let the pain rain down.
cry to me,
                 we will leave it all in puddles on the ground.
laugh with me,
                          as all else dissipates.
laugh with me,
                          the more endorphins: the more life we create.
sing to me,
                   let your soul bellow out.
sing to me,
                   the words you have sought out.
live with me,
                      but never wander from all that makes you unique.
live with me,
                      not enabling each others native colors to fall bleak.
join me as one,
                          two souls: one heart, forever.
join me as one,
                          individually together.
the dirty poet Nov 2018
i'm a curator of all that dissipates and evaporates
not only memories of my grandparents, my dad
now my mom
but the flesh tonsillectomy i performed on the rocks
in maine when i was 17
my wife's heartbreaking smile
and "come on down to my boat, baby"
a happy 60s tune no one remembers
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
I feel your absence
So profoundly;
It settles around me
Like early morning fog
And obliterates
Everything else from view.

I feel your absence
So profoundly;
It is ever present
Like a pinched nerve
Or a contusion
Of memories

I feel your absence
So profoundly;
Like a closed circuit
That becomes open
Interrupted
No electrons flow

I feel your absence
So profoundly;
I'm losing you in pieces
Your smell dissipates,
And your essence fades
Digested by time

I feel your presence in your absence
Kathleen Jun 2013
Old cuts old scars, say goodbye
Old cuts, and old scars. Say goodbye to old cuts and old scars.
Lined up on my hips are red lines, I'm gonna tell them goodbye.
Don't be disappointed when I give in to temptation, because that dripping red and the sting of the blade is my sweet melody relief.
It's my addiction, my bitter paradise.
A compromise in my mind, I'll do this and eliminate my dis-divine.
I can't stop and I can't go on, my only choice is the blade slicing through my skin and the secret of it.
Am I going to say goodbye? Should I?
Yes, I should. I'm trying to let the sin flow from my veins in red from blue.
This pain dissipates and joins the earth in a revive of life.
Saying goodbye to old cuts, and healing with new scars.
After the line with melody is after I realized it wasn't worth it, and it didn't help. Is there a difference at all between the first 6 lines and the rest?
Torin Nov 2016
Do not mourn long for the poet
This world was never made for men as him
Dare see future in destruction
Dare see pleasure in the pain
To be
Was all his only dream

Do not mourn long for the poet
But celebrate and find the truth he hid
So clever in his words
The beatific symbols
Which reveal
The ugliness of the world

Do not mourn long for the poet
Who no longer can create as the world dissipates
And the unknown will be
The only place he
Can ever have the hope
His soul may be at ease

Do not mourn long for the poet
His words were there long before his time
He was just the one to write them down
His future
Was only
Overcome the past
SW Apr 2015
My thoughts slowly slip through my stagnant lips with every exhale
My worries and my fears escape through my pores
The thick weight of responsibility dissipates, hollowing my bones.

I fill my body with breath and salt and sand and sun
I fill my body with breath until every neglected cavity is illuminated and
Every vital piece of me is enveloped in airy peace
I fill it until I am light enough to swim in sunlight
I fill my body until I grow large enough to be seen from the edge of the universe.

I am called, not by name, but by the grandiose water warriors that wage a war within the waves
I wonder to myself, are the crashes and cries of the waves of pleasure or pain?
Their tiny foot soldiers invade my quiet meditation
And I begin to defend my exposed skin against the grainy troops.

The receding tide seems to have slowed time with it’s leisurely pattern
Minutes and hours and days all dance past me to the beat of a nearby drum
And the ever present sun heats my body
Beginning with the soles of my feet and the crooks of my elbows
It seeps through each layer until my heart struggles to pump my boiling blood.
Through the comfortable darkness, a playful light jitters just above my eyelids
It taints the usual blackness, leaving me gazing into a flaming abyss.

An affectionate breeze bathes me with reassuring coolness
And kisses my burning skin with it’s gentle lips
The wind’s frigid fingertips awaken
Every pore, every hair follicle, every minuscule portion of my surface area
And abandons my mass as abruptly as it had greeted me

I am deflated, as seventeen years escape in a hiss through a gap in my teeth
My lungs collapse, with the sweetest sigh of relief
And releases my contents in a single


Exhale.
AncientFlower Nov 2015
I hate that I love you
I hate that I think about you
I hate that I miss tou
I hate thinking about the good times we had
All of it gets me riled up and mad!
But then, the anger dissipates and I become so sad...
I feel so alone
A feeling so cold
Having no one to lay down with and hold
No one to share those rainy days with
No one to call my name in my home
No one to share my successes with
No one to laugh at my jokes
No one to say bless u after I sneeze
No one...
I'm so alone...
Sia Jane Mar 2014
Love bug, lady crush, peeking through a midnight sky,
Deep Purple, Smoke on the Water, before a
glimmer in her eye,
90's girl, child stars of, The Disney Club,
Timberlake, Spears, Aguilera,
Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls dominating,
every air wave,
Victoria Beckham, her Parsons inspiration
fashion designer she'll fight her way,
to the top, so much power in her name,
yet even stripped bare, she'd be a star,
her talent to sketch, draw and drape,
falls on knees bent, if only we pray,
to even have an ounce from her display,
I know few like her, love unconditional,
we're the writers seeking solace,
an unforgiving pain,
life taking so much drain,
in the light of day this pain brings forth,
an edge to your art, a masochistic feel,
creating itself a soul untamed.

You write to remember, you sketch your dreams
hopelessness turns to desire,
the dark cloud of youth,
dissipates in the air,
knowing there is a way through,
treachery and despair.

My dear, you may some days,
feel in that gutter trying to,
catch a star,
but today you shine, as bright as
a diamond in this very same sky,
we see across continents,
each night that we pray.

Release the grip, lessen the pull,
fly and fly,
sore heights so high,
you ain't ever coming down.

© Sia Jane
My little love bug, celebrates her birthday today and this little bit of poetry, if we can call it that, is the least I can do. Love you angel <3
Deyer Mar 2016
I sit high on my Mount Olympus,
a chair from Staples with an Executive
appearance (so the box said). I'm faced
with a vacant canvas, and the knowledge
that one day,                                                
I won't have time to fill it.
1A
I decide then to fill it with whatever
comes to mind. Stars sparkle from my
fingertips after painting the whole thing
mostly black. I place them in shapes
that could be confused for a belt, a warrior,
a goat, or a saucepan to those without
vision. I pause, placing large reptiles
on a green and blue dot that floats
around one of the smaller stars. It entertains
me for a short while, but I decide to
start anew with a smaller, weaker, but
smarter animal.                        
And then I observe.
I watch as first they stand upright,
their distant relatives still using sticks
to catch ants in their homes.                
They spark stones using friction, and
I'm delighted while feeling my first tinge
of fear, for I sprinkled my own intellect in them
like stars on a black canvas.

They thrive, expanding out in every direction
until they share air, exhaling while others
breathe in their exhaust.

I watch as they cut all the greens, take
clean and cover it with cement. They burn
the core, slowly, to power machines that
take them anywhere. They fight; oh how
they fight.
        The core dissipates and they fight over
it, and they fight over me and I don't
understand. All their ideas are the same,
other than those who assume that they
are in my favour . . . Location, as I've
grown to see, impacts culture; it can not create
hate.
They look to me, pray to me,
and I can hardly intervene. A new
world, it seems, is all that I could do . . .

1B
I think of my dad, who left a thousand
jokes yet to be told. Before I paint or print,
I think and think and nothing comes.
Then I paint the sky with tiny points
of white, wasting no more time on thinking.
A scene opens up before me, and it
consumes everything
that I am, or that I ever will be.

I paint my own light into the dark
abyss, bliss kissing my cheeks as
my working wrist grows weak.
I write, if only to last a second
longer than my body. I write
to continue (to matter).
Zaira Diana Jun 2013
In a white book, writing was done with tears,
And so we cannot figure out a single line;
Memorized and though about since early youth,
It eludes one’s wit even as one has aged and greyed.

When mind seeks it out, love turns up in the heart,
When heart pursues it, love is in the mind, escaping wit.
Regarded at close range, love dissipates,
Leave it aside and love turns sad and grieves.

When loving is intense, love resists the long wait,
Like a lightning bolt, it streaks across the dark.
The kiss that sears is a kiss given only once,
And when the river swell, only once will flooding rise.

Love that is timid is a river still and currentless,
No falls nor torrents, no tears nor unbearable loss!
But when love has dared, the heart is swept away,
Honor, wealth and wisdom, love will drown them out!

When love is yet a bud, it heeds an elder’s counsel,
Such is not yet love, for it still sees the light.
But when it bursts aflame, what matter the universe —
That’s real love, so lose yourself in it with all your heart.

When you balk at the threat of ill fortune and hazard,
Truly your wit is lit and your mind at dull alert;
Your love is cautious yet, you have not
learned to really love,
For once in love, the grave itself is heaven’s gate.

Love has eyes, love is never blind,
having learned to love, one’s wounds turn into blossoms,
Love is selfish and cannot bear to share,
It’s either you get it all, or get nothing at all.

“Mother has been watching me, so I cannot write..”
Friend, that’s a sign you have yet to win her love.
But when she dares write even at her very grave site,
She has come to love you more than her very life.

All you, young people. who are in quest of love,
Moths who are fluttering around the lamplight,
Once in the grip of love, danger you will seek out,
Ready to love your wings to the very flames of love.
Erik Sorlie Oct 2012
My visual field flashes white in a moment of highest swelling heart
white light dissipates following blackness of my hearts lowest sun­dried hurt
my view of oppressively low hung clouds questions any earthly sensation, twerked torture
of a self­inflicted radiation of irredeemable gloom, hung by self

The acrid ebony of my soul dissipates to an antique comfort with love stretched infinity
I then breathed an atmosphere of sorrow; snapped, shattered infinity into a pile of broken windows
My call of a family of evil given in an intolerable agitation and searched remedy
led to be found abandoned within a continual struggle of grim phantasm

Necessity spake in me, called one mili­helen enough to launch my remaining ship
a cadavorness of complexion, forced port­side of me when crystal ships started to drip with lies
a guttural utterance whispered blankly, alluded keine endurance
as I could only wear certain textures, and not endure the physical elements of this sensory deprived flower

My conjured will, looks upon the morbid moral of an undiagnosed existence
if not unreservedly found in the recesses of self
rosie cheeks forced not by pleasure, but screamed excitement of eternal enjoyable nothing
as my visual field flashes white with a moment of highest swelling heart
Adam Zalt Jul 2010
Something phenomenal calls!
Its voice is like a gushing waterfall.
Endless continuums of percussions resound
The rhythm infiltrates my consciousness and my veins.
It becomes synchronized with my heart and brain.
I writhed like a woman in childbirth.
Struggling, I sought to cast out this rhythm and the source of this call.
I wanted to sit. I wanted to crawl.
I wanted to smash this thing against the wall.
Enduring until the sound dissipates.
Drenched and exhasuted, I wait.

Eternity is ike an endless mile.
Mortality is a second in a day.
A new dawn beckons.
As the rhytm crescendos,
I surrend to its beat.

I am a newborn on the stage of life.
Is this my scene to make as I wish?
I am a fish out of water drowning from air.
Yet an Oscar awaits the moment I participate.

The choices I make reflect on the past.
Who have I cast, but myself?
Constantly, I am prepared to tangle with each day.
Reaching out for help, I am pulled from the fray.

Like a rose that forgot to bloom,
I am struck with the onset of gloom.
Counting the years, I have left, can I make the deadline?
Fate screams, "Get in line!"
It is my turn to shine.
I have resolved that I just need to be me,
Be courageous, be open, be free.
Allow life's paths to converge.

The blinding light of life has turned green.
I am revved and ready,
To make my grandest scene!
Property of AJZ Inc. A company owned by Adam Zalt.
Kelly EC Jun 2013
It
It,
I once believed,
Was a disease,
A contagious plague
And that everyone around me quickly
Fell victim.

It,
A syndrome to which I was
Immune,
Resilient,
Impervious.
But now I see.
It is a rarity,
Not just a symptom of feeling
But a way of being.

It
Is not affected by medicine.
An antibiotic dissipates
The blight that is infatuation.
But passion is temporary
With symptoms
Hugs,
Kisses,
Caresses,
That are yet signs of It.

It
Is instead fed by life,
Does not infect,
But cleans and washes anew
The few people on this earth
Blessed to have their life completely changed by It
Forever.

It
Is love.
Ashley Garreau Jul 2014
Picking off pedals of Helios rays
With “I love you”s and “I love you not”s
You'd think we've come so far
From the time we were two astronauts.
Exploring each other’s universes
Until suddenly you pulled away and left me cold
Getting distracted by all the glitter of a shooting star
No longer seeing the sun as gold.

You took the oxygen tank with you
As life filled into your lungs
While you just drifted away with the heat of the sun
And I drifted away to the dark side of the moon,
Getting ****** into a black hole,
An uncharted doom,
And man, let me tell you,
Outer space is so cold
Where the void is as vast as fingers to grasp are few,
But now we've found each other again and again
Falling into patterns familiar but not the same
We are like two distant entities of an alien race
So connected at times,
But on two different planes,
Yet somehow we always find each other in outer space
As we collide like meteors from two different realms
Every time you crash into me
I’m overwhelmed

Picking off pedals of Helios rays
With “I love you”s and “I love you not”s
You'd think we've come so far
From the time we were two astronauts
As the solar system circles back around
Like the universal pull of the planets are theorizing a conspiracy with the stars
As if fates taken our destiny to somewhere out of reach
Forever is far away, but this galaxy’s ours.
A land where modern romance doesn't exist,
But something about the connection between two people does,
A gravity that pulls us down harder than the stuff we breathe on earth.
Yeah. This is something totally different.
Something we could never explain
But we keep circling around the tension
Until it dissipates
Into something disguising itself as passion
And there we go crashing again

Picking off pedals of Helios rays
With “I love you”s and “I love you not”s
You'd think we've come so far
From the time we were two astronauts
Perhaps it’s just a fire we've managed to light in space
Because love is the kind of gravity that doesn't exist
At least not here in this dimension,
Not in our world that is.
It’s the outcast of the group of kids
That is too scared to play spin the bottle
But they want so bad to fit in
So they spin
As they kick the engines of their spaceship into full throttle
With a nervous palm and moistened lips
Defying the laws of physics.
Or perhaps understanding difference would make all the difference
And acceptance for the weight of our gravity
The kind that can’t even be defined by space
And all the wonders of the stars and the Milky Way
And the constellations that we use to navigate each other
Through the depths of our eyes
And the meaning of that twitch in our cheeks
When we smile as if we've known each other longer than time
And that bottle's still spinning until it lands
On something we can call home
But until then we continue to drift in space
Just two astronauts
Together alone.
I like
The way I smell like you
When I wear your clothes

The inconvenient plant on Tess' table
And the haunted laundry room at Jess'
(The ghost, we've named him Steve)

I can always be safe, if I want to
When I'm around the two of you

And Tess is always catching me from just around the bend of sanity
When I think that I don't know why I'm slipping
Because I think she knows much more than she lets on
About losing to your dark psychoses

But Jess keeps me in touch,
And I really love her for it,
With her dreams and wishes and driving lessons
And her bold vegan ways in a place that is so unfriendly

Sometimes when I'm alone at home and
Cabin fever is much too catching
I'll talk to them and it dissipates so easily
(like gentle mist)

Aside from their assistance, they are beautiful
Their minds are whirling marvels,

And they make me laugh
At awkward intervals
When everyone else in the room is trying
Oh-so-hard to wear austerity
But I am never ashamed
shåi Oct 2013
pink sky
drizzled with the radiance of
the morning sun
the earth holds this precious light

purple smoke
dissipates into
the woven clouds
the sky holds the secret

luscious greens
mixed with aqua blues
soothes the serene landscape
the land expresses a longing desire
to be one

(b.d.s.)
Poetry by MAN Jun 2013
I sit alone in my cyberspace home, king of my universe on my internet throne, searching through threads for my cyberspace queen, born in a fantasy, died in a dream, reality on the horizon through a sea of doubt, my cyberspace soul dissipates when my user logs out....
6-13-13 M.A.N
Olivia Henkel Mar 2019
Organic matter dissipates to ash

saliva shrubs sacred branches softly sear

before they collectively crash

Dense haze escapes into the atmosphere



Smog blankets the saturated earth below

Macro level clearing ritual

Extinguish dismal flow

Desire to rid, but crude tendency is habitual



swoosh



Create space in the cloud banks

Burn that which must disintegrate

Rise & fall, cycles continue, give thanks

Awe invoking beauty, to make the eyes dilate
Cody Beeler Feb 2012
Feeling about as pointless as fireworks in the day time.  
Tired of watching everyone succeed from the sideline feeling like I let myself get behind.  
Went scuba diving without a tank.  Need to find the air that will let me get through these days.  
Wanting to break free but the chain only goes so far
Leading me back to a place I was before.  
Read the directions to solve the problem but never put into practice.  
Needing a frying pan and a metal spoon to wake me up from this **** world of gloom.  
The artist is painting a portrait of my life but keeps running out of paper.  
I need to be like the wind and just keep blowing into, around, or through these obstacles of my life.  
I want success like a chain smoker to a cigarette.  
Let happiness be my nicotine and failure be the smoke
I exhale from my lungs and dissipates then forgotten.  
You know life is never fair and no one gets a fair shake.  
**** that cause some do and boy don't you wish it was you.  
With everything going in their favor makes you wonder who is the author of their novel and how much does it cost to get just a couple of lines wrote in your life story cause consistent failure gets pretty annoying.  
Nice cars, houses, gadgets, and things that will make you happy have no meaning.  
Like a bike without wheels you can't really go anywhere.  
I guess that means I am the lucky one to start out on the bottom.  
Ignorant of what bottom really is cause I am in the shallow end
Thankful I am not in the deep with a 30ft diving board with problems diving in and coming up underneath.  
From the shallow end I might swim up to get my breath of fresh air
Maybe climb out of this pool of sorrow to a place that is dry.  
This struggle is what it is to be alive.  
To feel the success and push through the failures.
To get what I want but only get what I need this is what I guess it means to finally succeed
So long as I am happy that is alright with me.
Pauline Morris Mar 2019
Close to death
A finale breath
Reaper's touch
A finale hush
Pain dissipates
In loved one's eyes reinstates
Chris Thomas Jan 2023
"A patient man bides his time,"
Theodore tells the man in the mirror
Tomorrow, all the levees will break
And all the fables will be told
Of distant Decembers and forgotten fathers

Livelihoods will be threatened
And remorse will fall by the wayside
He watches as icicles on the awning
Melt away into puddles on the ground
"Warmer every day," he thinks to himself

He hangs up his scarf and overcoat
The way a simple man, with complex demons, is wont to do
And as his wants devolve into needs
And as all his anchors deteriorate to rust
Her smile unnerves a once-settled man

To think of the quality of glove necessary
To hold onto the wagon in this day and age
So Theodore pulls the door to,
Leaving Chopin's "Horseman" to gallop in peace
And in pieces

He watches her from across the courtyard
"Such sweet bliss in her footsteps," he sighs
And it seems to him as if the snow dissipates
Just from the warmth in her steady gait
Just from the radiation behind her brown eyes

He slides open the dresser drawer
A haven for scattered trinkets, odds, and ends
A place of respite for the weary souvenir
There, amidst all the corroded memories
Lies a corroded pistol, unspoken and unburnished

"And a lonely man drinks his wine,"
Theodore says, as intrepidly as he is capable
For there is a time when fathers stop teaching
A time when mothers stop singing
And a place where the sins stop searching

A last breath is deeply inhaled
But never again will find its escape
With a thud that echoes to Seymour Street
Theodore crumples to the cold wooden floor,
A simple man, finally free of complex demons
This is a poem about hopelessness, unrequited love, and the sense of loneliness that accompanies every loss.
Kwaician Sep 2013
I'll be 17 any day now...
But I'm not ready to grow up
Everyday simplicity dissipates
Slow down! Slow down!
I'm not ready to grow up
I'm only good at being young....
Everything in my life is moving faster than ever.*Sigh* But what can I do?
She wears an old fashioned shawl
laced wool of camomile
flecked with seeds of apple pip brown.
Wading shin deep with stork length legs, though lacking all brittleness,
she hems the thirsty sand line of shore
that's forever sipping foam
and swishing froth from the sea's diaphragmatic shifting.
The drag of each stride breaking
v's in their wake
all too soon dissipates
only to be replaced
with every surge and **** and lull.
She recites a poem as she treads the shallows
Hardly a whisper above a whisper
Blending lullaby syllables with the rhythmic surety of the tide.
Every word a billowed sail
carrying the craft of verse upon ripples and surf
back to the memory of one long lost across the sea.
form my book "There is one here for you"

— The End —