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John Stevens Feb 2014
The lizard approached
the beautiful tree..
made his play
you might say.
Started to climb
with such glee
intentioned to stay
all the day.
He then went limp
down he fell.
What had happened
no one could tell.
He was checked out
when he lost his function.
Found to have
a dreaded problem..
    ... called...
Reptile Dysfunction.
The Lizard might have
stopped to See Alice
before the charge or his friend

(C) 03-2014. John stevens
Watching too much TV
I need help!!!
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
It is almost gone, the fight to sustain, to go that extra mile.
I cannot go down that road again without the promise of change.

Hope is nearly extinguished;
a flame snuffed out by years of beurocracy and neglect.

Groping through the darkness that has enveloped us
as we struggle through days without end.

The much dreaded evil has crept under doors and into our ears;
voices of torment and faded support.

Fighting the good fight was not meant for this.
It was the promise of something more.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Cindra Carr Jun 2011
The blood loses its grip as the dreams of fire flow closer.
Alain’s face fills the gap my heart created with her dying breath.
I’ve lost hope more often than I’ve kept count.
Each moment slipped her away.
Every stranger’s touch faded the fresh memory of her breath upon my cheek.

Her heart was mine to the last moment.
Her blood pumped away wetting the field of battle.
I dreaded each day I woke knowing she was gone.
Time would not heal my wound.
It scarred and built numb spots of deadness.
It made it harder to feel.

I will see her.
I will touch her face in wonderment.
I will kiss the corners of her smile.
May the Mother help me.
Alain is waiting.
And I am looking for her.

Lazhar Bouazzi May 2016
“Rain for my words,”
Cried the poet.
But the rain would not acquiesce;
For she dreaded a languagekiss.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage - Tunisia, May 14, 2016
ryn Jan 2015
I can't write...
     I have a stash of twenty drafts, bearing a couple of lines each
I can't crack...
     Every draft seem to have developed a shell I can't breach
I can't gather...
     My thoughts so I could nurture these drafts to fruition
I can't think...
     The clatter in my head meant only to deafen
I can't fathom...
     What went right from what had gone completely awry
I can't find...
     Much needed sanity to let soar and fly
I can't cry...
     The tears I've beckoned for so very badly
I can't scream...
     Only muffled gurgles of notions drowned at sea
I can't see...
     The bigger picture...that consumed us both
I can't hear...
     Except for the dreaded voice of reason that I loathe
I can't piece...
     Together one decent little write

I can't breathe...
     I can't breathe...*I'm losing this fight
Smiles and Cheers as the Pony-Child confirmed
She really does favour you to the Brim
Her Speech speaks Volumes as Harmony adjourned
In keeping your Lamp from casting too Dim
For in this World's Class one is not so sure,
Which Category this Gospel is kept
Whether which Page is Sweet or which is Pure,
Or which those Dreaded Ants would mark Inept
Praises! Hone that Dull Knife to turn so Sharp
Then this Simpleton's Sail will land un-cut
A Good Brew; A Better Play of the Harp
Will tune your Te Deums anything but.
A little Humour, Friend, goes a Long Way
And this same Pony-Child begs you to stay.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Nicholas Fonte Aug 2018
Look at everything I've done
There is no forgiving this
Even still, all I did was run
I ran from it all
I'm gone
I departed to a new place
Where no one could know
This dreaded face
I spent my time on the train

Time has come to Fall
The color red was all around
Each leaf is a memory hiding
Things that shouldn't be found

The wait comes to an end
Where I will take
The first step
Towards a new life
And right away
"Welcome to our town!"
"There's no need to frown!"
"Come on, let's be friends!"
Rushed by all the villagers
"Hey, I'll show you around."
The young miss
Said to me.
So then she went off, guiding me.
This was the next step
In this life

Is this forgiveness?
The world has given me a
Second chance
This is a new life
A new Me
I'll turn over a new leaf
I can make the change

Past, present, future
Past doesn't matter
And we live in the present
Fighting for our future

"Hey, miss,
Let's strive forward in this town...
This is now my town
Our town
Something far greater
Than even destiny.
Ha ha an interesting take on this game. Wish I put more references in to there but hey, I love how it came out.
Alyson Lie Oct 2015
The way a devoted fan
refuses to wash the hand
touched by the one they admire,

I recoil at the thought
of thoughts that may interfere
with our most recent talk,

close my eyes so no new images hide
the sight of your smile, your lips
pursed in thought, your thin fingers
brushing the wind-blown hair
from your face, your leopard print
sneakers, your hands in mine....
Or was it mine in yours?

This is the dreaded foretaste
of suffering. We both know
what harm can come
from holding on too tightly.
We have learned by now
that all things are impermanent.
Nothing, not even this,
should be clung to.

We have wisdom
on our side, you and I,
and this is why we
should survive this unsettling
flood of love we feel.
Lazhar Bouazzi Oct 2018
“A little bit of rain on my words,”
Cried the poet.
But the rain would not acquiesce
For she dreaded a languagekiss.

© LazharBouazzi
Leal Knowone Jan 2015



wrong & right its all the same
you still have somewhere to place the blame
lost in forbidden realms of the brain
it all seems different but still the same


Co wrote by Brad Huston A.K.A. Arcontas Blank
karin naude Jan 2014
leave me
to precious illusions
moments of bliss
love imaged
momentarily eases the thirst
the dreaded melancholy


i am awaken

re-remembering the gnawing thirst
even at busy intervals
never a stranger
how i wish providence to come
and quite me of melancholy
impatient i am
resentful, for unwanted experience
that lacerated deep
weak and regretful
but always interchangeable
never constant
she has alluded me in youth
i wonder
in age
have i
atoned enough
will she finally find me worthy
uncertain of my fate
i drift
Tammy M Darby Feb 2014
The thick liquid began to slowly drip
I need you
I wiped the red off my lips

Through out your life
You are mine forever
As the blood ran down my mouth
I shielded my body
My mind going slack

Hands on my white throat
Began violently to squeeze
Eyes rolled back into my head
My soul in terror tried to flee

As the darkness closed in
He let the words slip
I love you
Slowly releasing his grip 

The sharp knife  against my throat
A weapon of fear
Submission its goal
Its deadly edge
I know all too well

Blue eyes
A person I did not know
Slept with me in the cradle of nightmares
Till the orange sun rose
He said I love you
A fool
My forgiveness flowed
For he was mine
This demon
To God I had spoken the vow

Always conscious and wary
He would speak the dreaded words again
I love you
Till would come my sad end

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Feb.3, 2014
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
They come amongst
a cacophony of noise
and clutter, little voices,
uttering unintelligible sounds,
amid giggles and laughter.
Sometimes it's pushing
and shoving,
"Mom he's touching me!"

Leaving as they go a trail,
of ever changing strange things,
like dropped Legos, paper airplanes
rubber band and old bent nails.

Once I found, to my otter amazement
A freshly dead intact Grasshopper,
Neatly folded up in brightly colored
Special Occasion Wrapping paper.
A gift no doubt from one of them,
left right out, on my Dinning Room Table.

Other times they emerge slow and stealthy
a  pair of Ninjas, all in black and scary.
Or as merely Batman and Robin,
Maybe Spidy and the Incredible Hulkster,
All of their personas assuredly entertaining.

As they barge through my door,
they tend to sing loud a lot,
True, squeaky, off key, yet sweetly.
Most are songs I've never heard,
Or just made up for the moment.

If I'm a little down, feeling kind of blue
five minutes with them is a sure cure
Funk gone in a flash, replaced by nothing
but happy.

Consummate story tellers they can be,
The nine year old should be the "Town Crier".
No news fit to print, ever went untold
from his lips, always relayed with such gusto.
Ask him a simple "How was your day?"
and he will recite 15 minutes of vivid detail,
all for my very delighted amused approval.

The six year old is sweet enough to eat,
Always bright blue eyes a flashing,
Not to be outdone, he will try his best,
to **** right in and share his days happenings.
Little brothers need always to try harder.

We all three laugh and joke,
and sometimes I break out,
the oh so dreaded "tickle fingers",
chase them all around 'till I catch one
and then for sure their screams of delight
and giggles do indeed fill up the room,
not to mention my old soft heart as well.
These little boys are pure magic.

Watching them thrive and grow, is my tonic.
A battery charger I can't get enough of.
Smart, charming, funny, sweet, cute and happy,
the loves of an old man's life. With them around,
who needs another.

They are a precious gifts from my kids, their
Mother and Father. Another chance to have
children close, be their loving guiding grandfather.

In them I see my son as a child, now a fine
grown man, In those boys I see the very
reason I was put on this Earth,
A life of human creation, come full circle.
The days are dark and clouded
Stars fear to shine and the moon is dreaded
The pain in our heart too heavy to make us cry
The prophesy joy is still far off to force out a smile
Miracles are now very scarce and expensive to buy
The truth is too bitter and too unhealthy to lie
My once good friend which is hope is ready to die
No peace in heaven, no life in hell
Then where exactly lie our help
Since I have no horse I will use my leg
My pain is nobody is feeling my pain
since is better to pray than fait
I won't try to drop out in the school of life by suicide again
I will stand on holy grounds to fight for a better life in faith.

They say the tail is for the slaves so I dare to become the head
No matter how deadly the journey seems I still believe in a rosy end
Since the kingdom will come here, here I will righteously pitch my tent.
Let them keep throwing brimstones
Let them keep feeding my hunger for meat with stones
I seek for honey but sour limes and bitter leaf water they seek to drunk me with
They should keep turning my once soft paths to thorns
But I know they can't eclipse my glory it will keep glowing
I'm like a palm fruit, no matter the harsh weather they might bring I will keep flourishing
I'm like age, no matter the obstacles they might set I will keep growing
For I'm a destiny child, destined to move from glory to glory.
emeraldine087 Jun 2017
I have never been in love before.

Perhaps I was afraid of what it would mean.
Or maybe I dreaded what it could turn me into.
Maybe I was daunted by the near-misses I've seen.
Or wary that what the others say about love was true.

But I know I am in love with you.

And I know it'll hurt when we can't make it last.
I will surely grieve -- ache and mourn, hate and yearn.
I will curse you, this wretched feeling and our past;
But 'til then, know that for this love, I will gladly burn.

*(c) emeraldine087
Kenji Aug 2015
In a locked up abandoned room, stands dead people,
all worn and torn, all helpless and scarcely unknown.
They weep trickles of tears from their eyes, soaking down to their cheeks,
innocent faces and scarred bodies,
invisible to the world and their minds dreadfully drilled, with thoughts of insanity, as they rot inhumanely.

Open wounds and jars of acid, the key lays in one of them, torturous and hardly discredited
It's deadly, and extremely rapid.

Trapped and held back, suppressed and feelings of soul lack,
where the crows die at 3:00am, it's satanic, dark, dull and dim.

Hands burn and screams cry, the jar is black, so they hadn't know in which the key lie.

The secrets within, dark, deadly and too hard to ****** swim.

Weak and demolished, some people collapse in pain and satanic craze, the haze, the daze, thoust peculiar trickles of red rain drops from the ceiling above, rose wine red, depth is dark and foul like jin

It's ****** up...

Our ghosts keep all kinds of secrets, with their hands behind their back and face hidden and covered in black, suppression creates a place of torturous days and weeping eyes of display...
Isolation makes it worse, it creates a lonesome curse...

Treat your ghost well, then the dark won't take over, and make it dreaded and unwell...
*All your secrets within
Joliver Aug 2018
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
Is off-brand raisin bran
Is how you say school is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die

Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong

Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"

They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
Skyla Aug 2018
Every day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.
You’re young and numb, but you feel so tired and old.
Summer isn’t Summer. Spring isn’t spring.
Seasons don’t matter, now they're just a dreaded thing.
The virus has devoured your mind, you aren’t even alive.
You used to walk hundreds of steps, but now, barely even 5.
Your heart is slower than your thinking.
Your sunken eyes are tired of blinking.
You want to give up, but the disease says no.
You wish that this deadly thing would just go.
All you are is skin and bone,
and you beg your voices to leave you alone,
but they won’t.

Your hair is dead and just dry straw, but you didn’t need it anyway.
Your fingernails are breaking off, but you didn’t need them anyway.
Your teeth are rotting one by one, but you don’t smile much anyway.
Your bones are next, since they are brittle and breaking,
What will it take to stop this internal aching?
As the virus eats your flesh, in your week old sweater,
you remember what it was like to be… better.

The sad thing is, you’ll continue to decay and let the voices rave,
even if it means that you will soon be placed in a concrete grave.
because at least you’ll feel pretty and alone,
proud of what’s left of your skin and bone.
Except you won’t be alive to be aware of yourself.
how sickening and skeletal you have made yourself.
you looked no different when you were alive,
except you were just living, but still dead inside.
You wear death perfectly, since this is who you are
and what you wanted.

At least no one can look at you.
At least no one can make you eat.
At least you can’t be tempted by a delicious treat.
At least no one can bother you, and let you rest in peace.
No mirrors to look in for hours and cry.
No more complaining that you wish you would just die.
No more worries, or sadness, or pain.
Your mind is gone and you're no longer insane.
You can sleep forever under the stars, and i suppose,
you can finally turn into nature, while you decompose.
And the best of all, is that you're no longer in your own skin.
No longer in your pitiful body, so technically, you win.
You’re a fresh soul who can no longer grieve,
and everything has left, and what’s left will leave.
Until you’re empty. Like you've always been.

But that hasn't happened yet.
Your mind is fading, and you always forget,
That you're still real, but you hate feeling real,
because you can still hurt, you can still feel.
You wish you could unzip your skin and set it on fire,
and watch it perish, in it’s disgusting attire.
At least you can disintegrate in that bed of yours.
Give in to all of your vicious wars.
But when it leaves temporarily, you still beg for more.
That’s how you know that you're sick to your very core.
You’ve been suffering this all alone,
You never leave the house, yet you feel like you aren't home.
And when this weather gets worse and hits you like a stone,
And the rain has fallen and the wind has already blown,
And this Winter climbs up your spine, and chills you to the bone,
You were once human. You would’ve never known.
This last day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.

I hope that the broken disordered recover one day.  There is beauty through the broken, but you shouldn’t need to be broken to be beautiful.
Sudden hatreds, grudges succumbed
underlying secrets,
unrevealed 'til were doomed.
Melancholy, distress,
tears kept underneath the sweetness,
with words fully sugarcoated,
visions of us, days I was dreaded.
Could we just end all of these instead?
Lies behind mischief,
been losing my mind running from conscience, what is the relief?
you said they're speculations,
aren't they just misconceptions?
Overthinking, too much of you,
when will you escape my mind,
Captivated by you.

Your lies,
secrets we've kept,
sugarcoats and nothing left.
Emeka Mokeme Aug 2018
Creatures of the night,
howling and cooing,
in the dark forest,
sending chills that
run down my spine,
with goose bumps
all over my body.
It's really spooky in
this quiet night as the
drizzling rain makes it
more difficult and
uncomfortable to see
in the dark.
The tranquil of this
night is so frightening
and makes one go weak
at the knees.
I can hear the ****** biting
the wood to make a ridge
so the flood will find its path.
You can hear every
footstep of these creatures
moving in the dark.
The flapping wings of the
dreaded vampire blood *******
hammerhead bat flying so low
above my head,
another nightmare of the night,
the night owl staring at me,
the park of wolves barking
at a distance,
the creepy noises of other
animals in the deep dark night,
the noise of the ruffled dried leaves
by the king cobra hunting.
It seems they are watching
your every move in the dark.
The whiff of your scent
they perceive from afar.
Alone in the quiet dark night
with the night creatures
is a perfect place to test your
nerves and witness
the beauty of the night unfold before you
in display of their magic.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
The moment has arrived,
The moment where I had the last glimpse of you
The moment that I hugged you tight, giving final farewell
The moment that I felt your last touch, which still remains under my skin
The moment when I wanted all the clocks in the world to stop ticking
The moment when my heart was aching
The moment when my tears were breaking their flood gates
The moment that I dreaded for, since the day I met you..
The moment that slipped the earth under my feet..
The moment that tore away my belief on eternal love..
The moment that I died inside
Glory Jul 2018
It’s the power of pauses
The silence between confessions
They create those dreaded pools under lashes
It’s the missing places
In the gaps from one rib to its brother
That creak and twinge all winter long
It’s the empty skin between our fingers
And that loud, hollowed space
In the dips of our collar bones
That stretches when we breathe

It’s those quiet moments
That gets us before we are ready
It’s the hesitation in your voice
And the long, drawn-out cry of mine
It’s empty

Try to fill me it said
Try to fix me it said
Try again
And again
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