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Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:

"but don't look back in anger"  
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood

It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell

Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;

finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
   what you can't forget —

like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ―  still running away
from each passing storm


Jesse Stillwater
June   2018
Thank you for reading my soul scribbles
Diana Garcia Oct 2017
Written by Diana Garcia**
My brain waves are like a storm
I wish i could sit in silence
I wish i wasnt so ******* torn
I tried to understand you but whats the use
it's my turn to talk but will you listen?
When you look at me what do you see
Your daughter, your sister or am I the punching bag that youve been missin'?
let me show you the scars you gave me
those wonderful gifts
that keep me up at night
the reoccurring hate
those angry tears.
All the times i went hungry
cause i refused to come home for years.
Over and over again i was told.
Theres nobody to blame other than myself.
YES! cause it is I who but my well being up on the shelf.
Ive checked out, to this i do admit.
I am numb and I simply exist.
How can I love, hate, or any of those words in the adjective list
when all I know is how to roll with the punches, how to roll with waves in the stormy ocean with all these ******* dusty emotions..
rgz Apr 30
I've never had a sober first time
was hoping maybe you could be mine?
I never knew how to write a first line
that's something that comes with time

I've never been shot first
I'm used to doing the shooting
then you landed a full burst
without even looking

I've never tried a fine wine
never whined at a fine try
never truly tried to fly
or really fully tried to lie
I couldn't even reach for the sky

Before you hit me
with the quickdraw
landed at least six shots
split me like a jigsaw
the bullet wounds are still hot
never thought you'd be my first thought

As well as my last
for the first time
time
seems to be moving so fast

For the first time
I'm lying
down
clutching my sides
I'm bleeding out

You stare
like you're just wondering how
this ever could have happened
and what I'm going to do now

I stare
your smoking gun feels like fate
I've never had a first date
I hope it's not too late
Part I?
CK Baker Feb 2017
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay

there are swings now
and an empty barn
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak to the past
...and little dogs
not big ones

the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say

and flanders
the holder of those pigs
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun

i can still hear the screams
of river dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees

think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane

they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
CK Baker Jan 2017
They brought them
from the hollar
to the barge
to the field ~
into the wallows
in prayer
skinny little pinkers
cropped by ivory gates
buzzed with hot wire
hooked on bug worm
whistling dixie
around scrummers
and **** pen

peckers squawk
down eden lane
(nipping at jean lint
and fraystring)
deep in the hollows
a mad crow
(with a steady tap)
snouts high on
grunters
and squealers
stomping past
the feather pack

folded fingers
on the gatekeeper
(an engineer by
trade they'd say)
pigtails and
slack line
down the dusty lane
a snap of the jawbone
and lawn chairs settle
(facing north)
the bold script
and chimes
uneasy
Yuri Swallows Sep 2018
The chilly wind brushed against my cheeks.
As the light left blinding streaks.
I realised we were both looking up at the same sky.
As we both let out a fascinated cry.
The dusty scent tickled my nose.
As the droplet landed on my wilting rose.
The crystal clear patterns blurred the outside.
Leaving me alone in silence with all my worries aside.
The dusty drops drowned the noisy city.
As if it was trying to leave me alone for a brief moment out of pity.
Drip drop
L Oct 2018
Why do old things never become shiny again?

Its a shame,

really.
Lizzy Oct 2014
My words, becoming literal.
I'm losing grip on deeper thoughts,
I wish I could find something more
But darkness fills my deepest caves.

I cannot mask my blunt remorse,
Unsatiated hungry thoughts.
I try so hard but I am weak,
My dusty bones can't hold my weight.

I am a force to all I love,
A burden they cannot hold up.
I'm sorry I am much too frail,
But you don't have to keep me safe.

There's something wrong inside my head,
I keep on wishing I was dead
KUSHAL HAZRA Nov 2018
Trapped inside the marble wall while people sharing breads.
My mama goes away leaving me alone for days.
I listen to some joyous kids playing outside.
The smallest window to share the sky and agony to hide.
My love left me locked and beat me up as I chewed the comb.
I will *** again on the floor to assign you another job.
Bitterness filling my heart soaking tears along,
While your soft hands melt all the pain away and prove me wrong.
But angry dad always scolds me anyway without reason.
My dreamy eyes wish for his love after a day in prison.
I am a desirable fluffy ***** sharing furry feelings to you all.
Aunt and mom rescued me from my visions to fall.
Love is all we need as I suffered inside furry coat.
They keep me alive from this ruthless world on a dusty boat.
This poem is about our little ***** "Mowgli". She is not alone I hope we are all beside them. Thank you.
Nik Bland Oct 2018
You and I will ***** one day
The smoothness will all go away
And as our hairs fade into grey
Will the love still stay?

We promise love until the dust
But so often forget the rust
Failing frequently to discuss
What happens if nothing happens to us

The porcelain will splinter and chip
Marking, for some, where the veil rips
But my love lasts more than just a stint
Of smooth skin on my fingertips

For if the twilight fades the blue
It replaces it with countless hues
And so will grow my love for you
In seeing, remem’bring what we’ve gone through

You and I will *****, no doubt
But my love will faithfully pour out
To endless bound, in copious amounts
A quenching water from an undying spout
“I believe when I fall in love with you, it will be forever...” -Stevie Wonder

“When I give my heart, it will be completely, or I will never give my heart...” -Nat King Cole

“In time the Rockies may tumble, Gibraltar may crumble, they’re only made of clay. But our love is here to stay...”
Ilion gray Aug 2018
The people
Are going anywhere
where they will wait,
Where the aluminum tops of pop
Bottles crash to earth
Releasing one last
Tiiiiinngg!!!((())))))
A kind of
Musical note...
A single sound through the corridors
Of order-
Watching the wind tease the trees/
Like the fastest boy
On the block,
Subtly walking
Over scattered grey
loose gravel
In the parking lot
Of the park,
Running his
Tiny ***** fingers,
Through
The other boys heads
Dusty and
Stagnant,
Filthy with earth and
Hours,
their
Blood black and  smoldering
Beneath a ceiling of skin,
Every pore
Like a window
Open
Waiting for the
One who knows,
To pass by,
All of them
Believing they
Were chosen.
"duck"
    "DUck"
              .........."DUCK
"GOOSE!!!­"

I watch the wind tease the leaves of trees-
Just this way,
At play,
Aloof
To the price of days,
Each one,
Their own.
Yet, both
The tree
And the child
Are Subtly dying,
Whilst also
climbing,
Closer to the
The sky,
Those ageless eyes
watch
their tiny fingers
stretched high
Reaching beneath
The ribs of wind,
the deepest end
Of the Seas of mid-heaven,
Into the sacred
Waves of secrets
everlasting,
Where
God taught his only
Son to swim.

I also watched,
as the wind teased
The trees that held the leaves-
Each decaying
As they rise
They bend forward like,
golden fields of days
Like sun-beaten blades of grass,
Their giant broken bodies
Like stones
So still,
That at times,
unfortunate seconds
Drifting past
Quietly,
wander
Too long
In the sadness,
Then crash
Violently,
In the silence.

If you ask some of the
people,
They will say
"We are going everywhere,
And yet we have found nothing-
Nothing/
While we wait-"

I have watched the wind tease
Everything,
All that I can hold in my eyes,
There
Where there is life everlasting-
Fingerprints,
Left after
the years wrapped it's hands
Around my neck squeezing
Till my skin began
To die and wither,
Like a brown trout
Tired, and weary
Floating way too
Close to the bank
As the edge of March,
Eat the last days of winter,
Now the evenings
Fall like ash,
Slowly arriving,
Hovering,
Softly
covering my shoulder.
The long night has just begun
Solemn and Subtle, sewn with
years
And hours
Of days that dripping
minutes
Never fill,
Arriving always
at the coldest hour
From the woods
That none
Can enter,
Lest you have reinforced your thoughts
With stolen rays of sunshine
Lest you have mapped
Constellations in the
Shattered glass  
From the broken
Windows of your eyes
give yourself one second
to never let your guard down
our hearts are like blueberries
when they ripen they become sweet
we can kiss the mist of morning
or swim in an abyss of fear
and release love without a warning
for there are no strangers here

what shapes and shades of grey
the way we hold our thoughts inside
imprisoned in our own minds
you smile at the flowers
and give love a thousand hours
drench yourself in music
sweet combinations
that never rush to any conclusion
you couldn’t fool me if you tried
if i had one second left to hide
i'd return the books to the library
as these archetypes are dusty
like used book sleeves
with old dust covers and jackets
is this the way, i wondered to myself
to take stock of the situation
Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
      overwhelms  unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge


A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace


Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed


The ***** truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
     unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind


An emotionally enslaved  heart
tarries,  marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
     lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless


Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate;  vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake


It's getting harder and harder
   for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
   climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree


  Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp


A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“  
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil


Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas



Jesse Stillwater
June     2018
Notes:                                                                                                          
a friend sent  a link to a deeply thought provoking modern classic 70's song about Vincent Van Gogh and the complexities of imperfection some of us relate .... i'd listened to the words prior but never heard before now.

  Title is last final lyric line from:  "Vincent" (Starry, Starry night) 1971
Writer(s): DON MCLEAN, ENRICO NASCIMBENI,
ROBERTO VECCHIONI
Lizzy Jan 2015
I loved the bitter taste,​​​​​​​
I miss the dusty air I breathed.
But time has come to give that up,
To let go of my chemical scars.
I will bandage myself up,
Repair my lonely hear,
And leave my old life of war,
For a calmer future.

I made my mistakes,
But my mistakes have not won.
My blood will never be pure,
But the evil has been killed.
bk Aug 2018
She wished for a prince
to come and save her.
She dreamed all day and night
of the day he would come,
blinding herself of the fact
that she didn't need him
in the first place.
She had a sword
in her dusty old basement,
completely forgotten of,
that she could've used to fight the dragon
all this time.

B.K.
siinli Dec 2018
I burned our
old photographs,
it fell down
like dried leaves
in the autumn
The classic
gallery of our
love that was
once fascinating
became a
tedious one
The once white
walls and
clean corners
Are now dusty
and dark
The perfectly
carved frames,
and perfect
shots
became dull
and lifeless
You left me
knowing that
I won't survive
alone inside this
***** walls
Picture me
in your mind
And you'll see
the saddest photo
there will ever be
siin.li
Lizzy Jan 2015
I’m losing grip on deeper thoughts,
I wish to stand on war torn fronts,
I turn away from all I’ve fought.

I cannot mask my clear remorse,
Un-satiated hungry fear.
I must leave this to run its course,
My dusty bones are crumbling here.

I am a force to all I love,
A fearful storm that leaves no trail,
A burden they cannot hold up,
My storm, it carries **** and hail.

Slipping back into the sea,
My mind is lost inside of me.
Ash to mouth

divide north and south
east and west,

shout  with class of Scout
let it out with griffin clout

we here we out , hear me out
— rhymes in time without

silent shrines to mime
cleared the crowd

covered eyes and mouth
over body desert shroud

if vengeance is your business
then from swords to plow

en lakesh

an eye for an eye binds
the all to be blind
but you can’t unsee the signs

no thoughts unclouded by loss
out the window I toss
mosaic fragments that cost
health and awesome sauce

Nazareth gutted commandments
by anarchy spelled
disaster after culture
massive ego it swell

up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture
so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other
from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture
so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir

you can run
but  from
gamma ray
you no hide
passed a black hole
wand inside
a body died
but it’s alright
(it’s heaven sight
till Zombie night )

animate dead necromantic black ring
the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing

the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin
consciousness draw out from within

traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton
a dusty tome bound and crafted man

medicine subtracted by the head that spin
in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings
the miracle is mystery u cant guess it

talking 3 eye see
talking vip
climb high as canopy
walking so
my shadow lands under me.

ten toes touch to the dusty roads
when toads appear throats close

mighta had the Midas touch
still the golden one
was too much to flush

you might live in Laos
you my livid crowd
you might live it now
neva hit my limit how
cause you live in now

when you wake up proud
timid mind plowed
divid-dine fill the cloud
insta crowd wowed
this I vowed
life isn’t life until it’s loved
that is the answer
but so few live it.
Life calls to us to take it and ride as if its our mount,
but there are no more equestrians.

Break the stallion
Kaila Martin Jan 2015
I see it in you
Don't give up on yourself
Bring your heart back from that dusty old shelf

You make me feel new
And I can see right past
The wall you have painted, it's made of glass

I'll help you pull through
I'm in love with your mind
Please let me in, let our thoughts intertwine

What I need to do
Is burn down your disguise
Don't be a part of your own self demise
first lines- 5 syllables
second lines- 6 syllables
third lines- 10 syllables
Wyatt Oct 2018
I once dug deep in my closet,
looking past the skeletons.
Treasures were found,
covered in dust and
forgotten by time.
I found happier times
documented in memories,
yet every time I leave
I’m more depressed.
Toys, tiny cars,
coloring books
and stuffed animals
hiding under the junk.
There came a time where
this wonderland of the past
gave me nothing but anguish
in this present day.
I forced myself to never
set foot in this place again.
That closet was wiped clean,
not a dust particle to be found.
I barely even remember
that place’s contents now.
Is it better this way?
Pat Broadbent Oct 2018
Planes streak across the wide October sky–
The sun is setting–
Contrails stream behind them,
glowing scars of the evening.

The highest ones, they exhale the day’s gold,
pure and sharp
like fields of August wheat,
dusty and late-summer charred.

Redder and lower ones hug the skyline,
No cloud to catch them,
Fall like meteorites,
the slow burn of a dwarf star

Memories never print so vividly,
slow burn sees fast death,
Reds, golds and what's between,
A brain is all catch-and-release


So afterwards what should be left of this?
Not but an umbra,
Impressionist beauty,

A mere relief of its source?


Beauty’s slow fade is not the tragedy,
–rather the reverse–
That I fade to beauty,
To never hold it in full.
Beauty and whatnot
Traveler May 2015
As you search twice
For meanings
Cleverly stood
Hid in abstract
Paradoxical format
Ingeniously pushed

Between lines  
Of landscape analogies
Fictitiously portrayed
In anonymous
contagious ideologies

I'm sorry
For your losses
Of time and duress
Yet my incomplete thoughts
Can riddle even the best

Into a landscape
Of wild weeds and laughter
I waste away
In time torn pasture

Where timeless turns
To dusty grey
I push save poem
And slip away...
RE to 05-19
Traveler Tim
patty m Mar 16
Patching bits together
to nurture an idea,
all matter of things take shape.  

Spheres of emotions
see red turn blue,  
becoming complete,
as we embrace the world with velvet kiss
coming alive,
learning to feel.

Land of dreams
a Utopia of ethereal colors
descend to Terre Firma.  
Dusty black,  Celestial Pink and lavender,
sunbeams spread their treasure
coppery yellow.
Mere perception recites a line of verse,
savor it slowly, this golden ecstasy drunk
with glory.  
The improbable becomes reality
when thought appears on paper.
Cweeta Cwumble May 2016
evening loneliness arrives at dawn
and knocks on the dusty windowpane

in the kitchen, i lie — with threadbare arms —
against the shabby wooden cupboard frame

this house is void of all electricity
except for the light bulbs, the fridge, the T.V.

and my steady-beating heart of rhythmic defeat
lying ***** across the tear-stained sheets

if you come home and find that i am dead,
perhaps some ***** dishes fell on my head

but most likely, i'll be, in the living room gloom
with a half-drunk bottle of wine to consume

with emergency flares tied to both wrists,
i'll leave you a smile, a sigh, and a kiss
I don't even know...
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