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Trevor Lamberty Mar 2013
Pretty Princess, primped in pink, never really stops to think about the idiocy she spews on a daily basis.  The dog cowers in the corner, afraid to be faced with her scarily unchaste, omniscient hands.  She certainly possesses a vast knowledge of the canine race QUICK, before the vet arrives, act in haste, lest the dog be victim to her knowledgeless, black-hold gaze!

Pretty Princess, never faulting, ever daunting, continues the endless flaunting of her limitless skill.  Planar geometry and collegiate calc are no problem for the persistent resident Isaac Newton, who scribbles phony calculations and bogus numerations on a Hello Kitty scratch pad.

Pretty Princess works by the candlelight of her over-bright, tower-tall, double-wide lamp and paces across her pink and purple flower-*** rug as she fantasizes about the greasy local pint-size **** who’s oh-so dreamy in his Nike cut-off dishrag.  From her desk, she scrawls the inane on a beat up, college ruled, blue-green, hand-painted notebook, for all to see, but none to name.

Pretty Princess is unstoppable, tearing through the grocery aisle where Earl Grey and Einstein fall into place betwixt bacon, sausage, and salmon paste, and then for show, she takes the liberty of becoming the resident nutritionist, which here means “amateur ‘botchulist’”, as she tells us what we’re doing wrong.

Pretty Princess keeps a hidden diary wherein are written all her fiery rants and new to-hit lists, saving space for all the boys she wants to kiss and yes, even room a tear stain or six BUT, she claims, it doesn’t exist.

Pretty Princess is afraid of her secrets, afraid of leaking them to the outside world where that entire girl would become just another whirl in the machine of elementary girls’ gossip.  That unrelenting pack of wolfish half-wit rug-rats, teeth bared and armed with magic hands, would seize the Princess in their dastardly plans BUT, they say, it’s only for a single day that Pretty Princess is robbed of her dramatic time at play.

Pretty Princess is unheard outside her environment, her voice never reaches above the casement of the teacher’s oblivious predicament because she’s completely preoccupied with the class’s rampant evil stride of impending doom.  The classroom bully sits, high atop his throne, and from his face is evil shown only to those who know how to see it.

Pretty Princess knows how to see it.

Pretty Princess comes home crying more often than not, misunderstood by her snotty, hot-headed teacher or “witchess”, and storms to her room in haste, leaving Mother to pick up the pace, lest the wrath of a pre-teen girl blow up in her face BUT, much to her disbelief and in some sense a strange relief, the truth comes out.

Pretty Princess just wants to be heard.
Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...



This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...



Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...



Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.



Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
"It's how we communicate."
Amanda Blomquist Apr 2013
Dustin
     Amanda

Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...



This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...



Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...



Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
   
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.



Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
This is a texting duet between me and Dustin at 3AM, its how we communicate.
Five Fingers Sep 2014
why is it that i forgive so easily?
why do i always weigh intentions instead of faulting stupidity
when stupidity, that fickle fool
caused us such grave heartache
and for what

why is it that i forgive so easily?
and risk my feather heart
exposed
a brothel for sentiment
care murdered and never returned
screaming out to be ****** over
by another
time
after
time

why is it that i forgive so easily?
and allow anger to fade
lay waiting for recognition
discard all ammunition
and tell myself once more
that *it is all worth it
I  can forgive, and i can look past things. But somewhere in the hidden idealist part of my being, i cant come to terms with how the people i least expect, are the ones that give me the most to look past. then of course its me i blame, for being so **** weak.
Emanuel Martinez Apr 2013
Thunder birds
Feathers made of light
No crashing in the night

Heedless heals shatter the ground
Muskets silencing every warning

Thunder birds
Voices carry out songs
No silence in the oblivion

Hollowed breathing gasping oxygen
Bullets' sonic reverberations
Overpowering every whimpering

Thunder Birds
Witnessing every crime
No veils cloud the terror

Burning images through tears
Weapons of desolation spark
Smoke and fire to blind just eyes

With every burning desire
We were meant to love
But instead fell low

Construing our delirium
As if by predestined design
Without faulting the system
Facilitating issuance of our sickness

Restless voices trivialized
To demobilize their power
Appropriating oppression as ours
April 26, 2013
Poetic T Dec 2014
I walk, I am a lone,
Limp feet lift upon dead ground
Left,
Right,
Onwards
I jest this failing body
Onwards towards what is the end
"I carry my weight"
"I carry my bones"
I wish to walk upon those before
This road of the dead,
Life,
Passing,
Rest
Is the only sombre thought,
But I walk on, I walk over,
I walk past upon those who
"Came before"
Billboards overhead, rest here
,Silence,
Peace,
Death
Is what waits upon those who
Stop,
I carry on never faulting.
Then that moment  before, as all have stood,
"The end of the road"
"There is just barren land"
"This road of fallen"
"It is a road upon the bodies of the fallen"*
White tiles,
White dreams,
White bones
That my knees rest upon.
Tears of anger penetrate, for nothing,
As I succumb to this Road of death,
For I am but another few cobbles
For the next one too fall upon. To further this road,
This road of white covered in dust.
This road of hope within its white gleam.
"The road of death"
Has paved another slab on its
Passage to nowhere, but **death.
Silence Screamz Sep 2014
Shadows astute pierced by emotion
drowning in sorrow, deep in the ocean

Dramatic ideas cast returned
Cinder and ashes, all have burned

Wishes, dreams built in despair
count the blessings no more fare

Faulting my demons, sights unknown
Feeling inside, I'm alone!!
Marco Carlos Aug 2018
Over coming my short comings.
Initially so plentiful, now nothing.
Your naked body clothing my thoughts.
Like leaves to trees.
Like pouring vinegar in the wounds I once bled, I continue to ponder you,
they continue to bleed.
Alone I walk in paradise, the shrivelled memories faulting to mere dust.
The air in Eden, a little colder, the water stained bitter, turning hardened steel into rust.
Spiralling up in a whirlwind of desire of what once was, consuming me whole, and ridding me of trust.
My inevitable demise,
I knew what you were, I chose to bite the apple , why am I surprised.
love hate
Amanda Stoddard Apr 2015
I await at the bridge of your nose
for you to kiss me.
I await at the nape of your neck
to feel the chills down your spine.
I have become accustomed to lonely,
even by your side.
I await the days to burn away
so loosely and never-ending.
I await for the bruises upon my mind
from trying to run away from my mistakes
to become temporary.
I burn and burn and burn away like those days
and I begin to feel the heat from where I lay.
Loose against the grain-
I am like the gravel amongst your feet
clinging to the soles of your shoes wherever you go
etched into your scraped knee as a child
bleeding and broken skin-
I am like the gravel always fleeting-
always in need of reparation
being made of stone and not just one particular kind
I am forever changing in size and faulting
when the lines become etched with tire tracks
I am the space in-between your fingers
lingering for the air to stop flowing through them.
I am your morning coffee-
even though you know how bad you should let go of me
you remember how it feels without me when you wake up
so you have to get another cup.
I am the window pain of your childhood summer camp-
caked with dead flies and the smell of pine
and the memory of the kid you once were.
I am pieces and faults and scars and addiction-
you tell yourself to stay away
even though in the morning you know you won't listen.
The air fades from between those fingers-
and the nape of your neck meets to have dinner
with the chill running down your spine
like it's late for a final exam.
You are anxiety-ridden and all determined
and I am the stone pebbles at your feet
patiently awaiting the return of your shoes
so I can be carried home.
idk what this even is but it felt really good.
Sean C Johnson Feb 2013
There must be a scapegoat, a faceless soul we can blame
when events unfolding never crease the right way
there needs to someone to take the fall
for our shortcomings, failures, mistakes and flaws
let's name it timing
the outlandish ideal with a sort of silver lining
benefiting our dreams or disappointing based on your outlook at the second
placing our losses on timing's plate, so to us it remains indebted
the divine invention we haphazardly sink our faith towards
faulting opportunity for not opening closed doors
falsely accusing an innocent occurrence with words of curse in nature
we'll just chalk it up to poor timing, and bury it for later
the concept of allowing an unmovable force dictate our actions
selfishly choosing when the timing suits our satisfaction
poor timing, missing the chance of a unmatchable proportions
minimal effort to a particular cause turned twisted words contortions
to cleverly claim the culprit, when your very actions displayed a lack of determination
it's not the moment's patience
that forces your will to put the act in motion
yet we chalk it up to timing, a peculiar notion
a cloak of deceit and disbelief we wrap ourselves in, blaming an unworthy malefactor innocent as the sun is bright
so let's just call it poor timing, leaving our passion-less actions out of sight...
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2023
Everything is BIG here.

Meals are big, bums are big, cars are huge and the skies are a million miles wide.

Janet and I are travelling in the Northwest of the United States of America, spending time with Boaz and Lisa in Idaho, Steve Yocum in Oregon and Greg and Linda in Washington State.

The trip is a "quickie" in that we are fitting one helluva lot into just three weeks duration.
Never in all my days have I seen such huge quantities of food served up in restaurant meals, plastic bags discarded, American flags fluttering and all the young, blonde girls in tattered, impossibly short cut offs and sleeveless tops talking loudly, incomprehensibly at a million miles an hour ......Just blows you away!!
Monstrous pickup trucks, Rams, Broncos, big V8s travelling the freeways continuously. Sheriffs, troopers and Road cops all wearing firearms on the hip, in their souped up pursuit vehicles parked on the roadside shoulder, eyeballing everyone as they pass, with a mean, accusatory glare.
Out on the range there is a million square miles of nothing but sage brush and basalt rock....and searing, baking heat.
114 degrees in the painted desert of Moab. Beautiful though with vaulting red sandstone cliffs and rearing stone arches against the blue-est of blue skies.
Standing pillars of ancient sedimentary rock born in depositions laid down in vast oceans of bygone eras, millions of years ago.

History is painted vast in this immensity. The gigantic and abrupt catastrophic inundation of a vast and deep inland sea, swelled suddenly by floodwaters of rivers diverted by lava flows from subterranean fissures....Unimaginable torrents abruptly released, gouging out ancient lava beds to create gigantic waterfalls and deep, sheer sided chasms.

Cascades that constituted the biggest river flow ever known in the history of the planet, washing away everything from the epicentre of the continent in Utah through Idaho to the Pacific ocean in the rugged coast of Oregon. Such was the Bonneville flood of 12,000 years ago illustrated today by the gigantic chasms created in the beds of basalt and rhyolitic larva throughout Idaho and the fields of massive, round, house sized boulders strewn from the floods origin near what is now, Salt Lake City in Utah to the coast in Oregon, a thousand kilometers away.

The two weeks stay with Boaz and Lisa just disappeared in a flash. They took us down to Moab painted desert, Zion National park, the Craters of the Moon, Monument National Park and up to Stanley and the Sawtooth mountains by the mighty Salmon river. Janet and I took advantage of a couple of push bikes hanging in the garage and spent most days cycling the local trails and visiting Starbucks for a celebratory cappuccino or two....Those bikes saved our bacon, walking trails in that heat was ******. Great hospitality enjoyed here. watched reruns of Sopranos on Boaz's 70 " SmartScreen TV and enjoyed Arnie's escape from postwar Austria to Mr Universe and fame and fortune @ Hollywood with Boaz whilst enjoying chilled margaritas in the hot tub.

The camaraderie of meeting an old mate of 45 years past, Steve Yocum of Oregon  a fellow writer and author. Both of us intent on shooting the breeze, putting the world to right. In some ways a sad exercise in that no longer can either of us make things right for with age upon us, neither has influence. We can huff n puff n blow the house down....but it seems, nobody pays the slightest bit of attention. The penalty of age is invisibility. The relief in it all is that, really, nobody actually gives a hoot!

Just two Old Dogs letting off steam..... it's rather cathartic actually! Thanks to Stevo, Ian and lovely Heidi for the accommodation, great hospitality and warmth.

The cool atmospheric relief of the serene and calm, Puget Sound in Seattle, Washington state gave welcome respite from the intense heat of the interior and the serenity of our cottage accommodations and startlingly beautiful garden surrounds. A forest of conifers and deciduous trees harboured gardens of blooming roses, hollyhocks and multihued cone flowers, emerald lawns carve swarths of sunlight in avenues of deep, green shade....a delight for the sunburnt brows of yesterday's heat.
Woken by the bassoon blast of the passing early morning ferry out in the waterway, to stroll out to sit at the very edge of the sandy, pebble beach and gentle surge of the deep, clear saline waters of the magnificent Puget Sound.
The peace of early morning crisp cool air, a seascape of moored fishing boats on mirrored waters, the distant Olympic range rearing to its' full 7,000 ft against a powder blue sky left us quite breathless with the utter beauty of it all....add to that a lovely breakfast offering of fresh berries, kiwifruit slices and yogurt and a chilled glass of fresh squeezed orange juice...and we absolutely, couldn't want for anything more. To Greg and Linda our love and thanks for giving up your beautiful bed, travelling us around beautiful Seattle and being our airline coach to and from Portland. We shall return the warm hospitality next time you hit NZ and Taranaki.

Vulcanism has dominated the terrain in Idaho, Montana, and Utah. Continental drift westward of the land mass has brought about a steady transference eastward of the massive geothermal hot spot which currently lies in Yellowstone park and which is the source of all volcanic activity within the park..
Idaho, in ancient times, wore the volcanic mantle of the region in having truly gigantic rhyolitic ash and magmatic eruptions. These cataclysmic eruptions emptied deep cavernous, subterranean magma chambers which collapsed under their own weight leaving vast circular calderas in the landscape. Subsequent plate tectonic activity caused deep faulting allowing huge flows of sticky magma to surge to the surface like searing hot black toothpaste, spreading across the plains obliterating all evidence of the rhyolite caulderas, surfacing the state, to this day, with millions of acres of hard black basaltic rock.
Here and there, rhyolite has wormed its way to the surface building gigantic domes, over the centuries these have weathered leaving statuesque, dramatic flat-topped mesa scattered across the landscape.
Altogether a truly unique and enthralling terrain for visitors to behold and one which reveals a dramatic insight to the volcanic and tectonic violence of the recent past and gives a definite air of mystique to the beholder.

In a land of 360 million people, supermarkets are downright huge...and they contain the spoils of the nation's plenty.
Acres of dazzling variety... and cheap by international standards. The very best of prime beefsteak, sides of pork, Alaskan cod freshly caught and displayed in rows of chilled enticing exhibit. Every possible vegetable and fresh picked fruit known to man in piled pyramids of brilliant, colourful display. Beautiful ornate furniture, beds, mattresses, tiers of car tyres of every conceivable brand and size, wheelbarrows, fertilizer, fresh flowers in mountainous display, ***** in barnlike chillers. Supermarket trolleys for giants..... and gird yourself for a marathon hike in collecting your basket of groceries...and give yourself half a day....you'll need it!

America has momentum, huge momentum. Across vast tracts of country lie networks of highway. Multilane concrete that tracks mile after mile carrying huge trucks with 40 tonne loads. Incessant trucks, one after another,  thundering along carrying the lifeblood of America, merchandise,  machinery, infrastructure, steel, timber and technology. Gigantic mobile freezers hauling food from the grower to the markets. Hauling excavators, harvesters,  bulldozers and giant Agricultural tractors. Night and day this massive source of production careers across the nation transporting the promise of America, the momentum which drives the Stars and Stripes onward, ever onward.

On the margins of the cities of Portland and Salem the unhoused gathered in squalid tent communities. In the beautiful city of Seattle I saw many down and out unshaven, untidy individuals with hopelessness in their eyes, pushing supermarket trolleys containing their sparse possessions. I drove through rural communities, some of which, reflected hardship and an air of despair. Run down dwellings in need of maintenance and repair, derelict rusty vehicles adorning the **** strewn frontages.
Not 20 kilometers away in Ketchum and Sun Valley Idaho the homes were palatial in grounds tended by gardeners and viticulturalists. Porsches and Range Rovers graced the ornate, rusticated porticoes. Wealth and privilege in evidence in every nuanced nook and cranny.
America is, indeed, a land of contrasts, a land of wealth, privilege, and plenty..... and yet a land that, somehow, tolerates and abides a fragile paucity which emblazons itself, embarrassingly, within the national profile.

On a hot day in Twin Falls, Idaho, I walked into a huge air-conditioned sporting goods store specifically to look at guns....and in the long glass cases there were hundreds of them. From snub nosed revolvers to Glocks, 38s, 45 caliber even western style Colt 45s and the ***** Harry Magnum with the long, blue gun barrel and classic, prominent foresight.
In the racks behind the counter are hung fully and semi-automatic rifles of myriad types...all available for sale providing the buyer has appropriate licensing.
In a land where mass shootings proliferate weekly, I ask myself....does this availability of lethal weaponry make sense?

The aching beauty of the mountain country in Northern Idaho, Oregon and Washington state cannot be overstated. The Sawtooth mountains, the Cascades, Mt Ranier, Mt Hood and the Olympic range. Ridgelines of towering conifers as far as the eye can see, waves of green deciduous running down to soft grassy clearings with boulder strewn, rushing streams and the cascade of plunging waterfalls. The magnificence of the natural beauty of this rugged, heavily timbered mountain country just defies description being far, far isolated from the attentions of man.

To happen upon this country from the far distant reaches of the South Pacific is a culture shock, to be suddenly exposed to the extreme largess. It is difficult to calibrate, hard to encompass, impossible to assimilate....but the people encountered warmed us with their generosity of spirit, their willingness to welcome travelling strangers into their homes....and, of course the invaluable time we spent with our family….and for these factors alone together with the huge magnificence that is this........
GRAND AMERICA.
We are truly, truly grateful.

Janet & Marshal
Foxglove@Taranaki.NZ
arubybluebird Aug 2013
I feel
Yes, I feel
That sometimes it is necessary to be cynical
There just comes that breaking point
Where you have to get out of your maddening mind
Face your own reflecting image in a mirror
And say those few words
Those few words that hold the truth
To your million faulting thoughts

"You're not as bad as you think you are, Gladys"
write it down and read it out loud, if you must .
you're not as bad as you've let yourself deceive.
Kyle Kulseth May 2015
Reached in and picked a winner
from your box of stock phrases.
Finding ways
to roll zero on 2d6.
You ******' missed
                        "**** the bed!"
I guess you're no Kenny Rogers.
Longer losing streaks familiar
to the wisdom of a betting man.

"Carpe Diem" on your calf,
laugh your way to the bank.
But put a stutter on your chuckle
'til the day they seize your wages.
If it "happens for a reason,"
fold your cards and hold your tongue in.
                           Hold your tongue and
                           clamp your teeth.

"What it is is what it is."
That's a "tautology."
They taught me that one in college,
when I took critical theory!
If you seek an explanation,
you're just critically faulting
                           on your dice rolls
                           and your debts.

Reached in and hit the bottom
of your box of stock phrases.
Finding ways
to keep afloat on empty words.
You ******' missed.
                           "Feeling blessed?"
Turns out you're no Kenny Rogers.
Longer losing streaks familiar
to the wisdom of a betting man.
Amanda Blomquist Apr 2013
Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...

     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...

     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...

     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.
my solo taken from texting session with Dustin
Words bolt out but no ears hear,
Bending vowels of drained attention.

She smiles in racing blossom intervals,
the atmospheres of bending bludgeons.

But still I am in love with her, fool me.
He who talks without lips moving.

See the juvenile mouth extrapolating
to judgements faulting into aching.

I wonder, well sometimes I do think,
what fashionable jungle I'm to be?

After all, she finds life too busy
to wonder long about such as me.

Immobile with soundless ambition,
the rocks grow but not in splendour.

So this is how it must convert to action,
that she succeeds where I blunder.

Oh well, so that is how it will coexist,
with words drained and solitary existing.

"Be robust" I murmur to myself, with
heart closed and cognizance brooding.

"Goodbye, my former fellow traveller!".
I am off to request novel occupations.

You your way, and I, unhappily waving.
Exhalations the only sound which cheapens.
Amanda Stoddard Jun 2015
all people have ever done is hurt me-
I'm starting to think it's all my fault
and the only thing I'm good at
is letting people down.
I would love to drown my sorrows
in a whiskey bottle
and never wake up again-
but that part of me is dead.
The one who looks for escapes is gone now
and all I have left is raw emotion and coping
I'm not sure how to deal with either
when I've never really had to.
All my life has been spent repressing
everything in my wake
and now I feel as if it's all coming out-
everything that's ever made me sad
came flooding back when you left.
You're looking out at the window
to your life smiling and happy
when all I am left with is misery
and I thought I made you happy-
at least I tried my hardest to.
But it seems to me all I'll ever do
is let people down.
I push people away until I am left alone
and now I've never felt so lonely.
I've been trying to bandage this broken home
but putting into it my broken soul
and now there's no pieces to fill the cracks anymore
I am bleeding and faulting and withering away again-
there is no safe shaven for me
no peak I get to reach anymore
just me, broken and bleeding at the seems.
Nothing is ever as good as it seems
and I put on a hell of a facade.
But I'm even tired of that now..
Loving someone broken is hard
and all I've ever been is broken
and difficult and withering.
When will I flourish?
Maybe when someone remembers to water me.
Hooflip Oct 2016
Yup
I EAT A SUBOXONE FOR LUNCH
I THINK THAT IM GONNA THROW UP
THATS A LOVELY BUZZ AND SIDE AFFECT OF BEING FORCED TO GROW UP
I MISS BEING YOUNG IN SUMMER
ONLY TWENTY ONE & BUMMED OUT
ALWAYS SOMETHING WRONG & ITS MY FAULT I JUST KEEP FAULTING OUT
& ALL THE LOVELY LADIES THAT IVE LOVED JUST THINK IM CRAZY CUZ MY LOVE AROUND THE CLOCK THE LOVE THEY GIVE TO ME IS LAZY
& IT BREAKS ME, ALWAYS BREAKS ME, EVERY TIME IT FEELS THE SAME N IM ALIVE BUT DEAD INSIDE I GO OUTSIDE TO FEEL THE RAYS & I DISSOLVE
DONT WANNA BE INVOLVED
DESIRE TO EVOLVE I FEEL THE RAIN  & CRACK A SMILE SYMBOLS INESCAPABLE
ALWAYS FALL, FOREVER FALLEN NEVER FALLEN FOR
I PLACE FLOWERS IN THE HINGES LATCHES OF YOUR LOCKING DOOR
& I KNOW THAT THEYLL PROLLY DIE YEAH YOU WONT EVER WATER THEM
BUT I JUST FIGURED MAYBE YOU MIGHT SMILE AT THE THOUGHT OF THEM
& IF I COULD CONTROL ALL THESE EMOTIONS I COULD CALL YOU FRIEND
IM SWEPT IN THE INTENSITY DEFENSLESS & A FALLEN MAN
Eli Raenim Oct 2012
5 seconds... 13 seconds... 25 seconds...

My God Ive never seen a clock move so slowly.
Wasting my time, wasting my short lifeline - ever so slowly wasting away my precious time.

******, let me out! I'm so constricted by these minutes.
Impaled by red second hands, ******* by the hours, hanging from a moment... Or maybe it's just the number 12.
Its so hard to tell from upside down.

Ticking clocks in my mind; never stopping, never changing, never faulting.
The blood starts to rush to my head, vision blurring to black and white, and then, I swear I felt it stop!

...

...39 Seconds... 46 seconds...53 seconds.
Michael Bauer Mar 2015
the best time in my life is when i sit alone in my room
playing guitar to the wall and singing in my untrained drone
in my flat american accent - the ringing of suburban middle-class
or reading obscure contemporary fiction novels and smoking ***

the best is when no one else is in the house
and it's just me enjoying this distant skin suit
existing in this world as an individual
just a brief vacation before returning to the eternal oneness

i exhale the sacred breath of life and begin to play guitar again
slowly learning how to play new songs and exploring rhythm
i'm the only person in my family who is interested in playing music
i taught myself guitar and am still struggling to understand scales

the best time in my life is when i sit in my room alone
thinking about beautiful women i wish i could know better
dreaming about how my life would be if i was cool
if i was interesting and able to break out of my shell

i imagine what it would be like if i had a social life
if i was interesting enough to develop a fascinating circle of friends
i've always wondered how people manage to break into social circles
navigating social climes is an art and one that i lack sensitivity in

the best time in my life is when i sit alone in my room
thinking deep about the universe and the reason for existence
letting out another breath then drawing in another
strumming repeatedly to bring ordered sound to the world

the best is when i have a great person on my mind
someone who inspires me to break out of myself
an ontological proxy by which i can compare myself
to see all how i am lacking and faulting
As the Sun rose up above my head,
I leave this land with much unsaid.
To pass the time was now my goal,
To live alone a broken soul.
Out of reach like the Sun and stars,
Round my head I'm chasing cars.

A burning flame’s secluded light,
Like the thought of you still burning bright.
In a heart black made of pain,
I still use your name to keep me sane.
Our time had passed and you moved on,
I still struggle to fathom that you are gone.

I walk the road in hope to find,
A reason in time to rest my mind.
But a dimming glow and faulting belief,
Leads my heart to find no relief.

I will push on with a budding need,
To learn and grow and nurture the seed.
I will succeed of that I've no doubt,
I will live and sing and dance and shout.

I have realised now I don't need you here,
But the thought of you still holds me dear.

I will move on with time I'm sure,
But a feeling like this has no cure.
Unknown Sep 2014
Nothing.
No thing.
Help me
please.
I’m faulting.
I've not been feeling good about myself lately.
Filmore Townsend Mar 2017
some Catholic catharsis
and massively multiplying
paradigm shift;
do you fight the thought-flow?
through the catacombs
where you're nothing?
precipitate of participation
and attempted, forced, alliteration;
inconsistency, and in kind,
    (and onward Christian solider,
               play your cards right)
chomp the *******; maybe
out of context. always
throwing context; pseudo-
attempting contrast. scribblings
about the ancient gods.
random, fleeting, fancied-thought.
      in an abstract field at night;
at nigh. to be repetitive, and
in dredging the past of words
long-since winded. when
is the cohesive era played-
through of these little uttered lives?
these faulting breathless lines?
012017
Amanda Blomquist Apr 2014
Standing, surrendering.        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.    My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me, show me, lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in the discomfort.

     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls  and self control

     Fill me. Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of my being
                                                  

     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my progress

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the sticky egos and messy misunderstandings.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried, Ill shine...

     Im lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            I fall away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 Fading in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.
     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me
J Christmas May 2011
What now with you is wrong
In vein you hide your shame
   The shadows are long
   Your chance near gone
To dive in and make your change
      Our Dead Beat God
      Has left this place
       Tapered steel
       still medicates
        Pay for Death
                                 is that a joke?
                                   No I'm serious
I always speak of what my mind's eye sees
   Religious nuts curse my reasonings
                  For Blasphemy they're Damning me
                           Forgetting & Unforgivingly
                                  Faulting the rational sanity
                                            The very god they praise
                                                       Hath Given Me

        Faith separates the weak
            From the beholders of the sun
                    Only those who've sought
                          Far from pages man has spun
                                 May again become One
*John Deryck Christmas copyright 2011*
EdVance Apr 2015
I woke alone in heartache
A place I never want to be
My feelings turn against me
My soul begins to bleed

My teardrops feel like winter rain
Yet burn my eyes like fire
The pain feeds, Tearing endlessly
Killing every wish, desire

A hopeless state of consequence
I never ever want to feel
My inner light is faulting
Please God make this unreal

Waves and waves of cold despair
Are thrashing through my soul
My mind aloft with final thoughts
My heart collects its toll
Jack May 2014
~

Silent sentence

The silence is deafening
pounding this cartoon anvil
lodged somewhere in my head
echoing through empty chambers

A loud dose of nothing
calls to me in voiced undertones
resonating with the volume
of butterfly wings pinned to a board

My clouded eyes look,
hoping my ears are mistaken
wishing for only a sound
vibrating in this vast glass hallway

Wave lengths in shorter shadows
collect on mesh grilles
protecting weathered speakers
cracked and taped…yellowed

Tiny dots felt of faulting fingers
braile’d emotions screaming
along a page of discomfort…blistering,
dog eared for no reason at all

Stillness…that is all…stillness
no wind, no color, no movement,
as I wait for this that shall not come
alone…perhaps unheard by others

This it seems shall be my existence,
written in quiet ink…invisible to most
no lemon juice tricks this time
as I serve my sentence…in silence
Amanda Stoddard Aug 2015
I want a love I cannot destroy-
so I must love myself.
On the days I feel low
and like no one can be of service to me-
I must be that to myself.
No one can love me like I do
and I think that's why
I have such a hard time keeping people.
I am not one to be kept.
Constantly faulting-
afraid someone will run away
when they realize who I am.
Who am I?
Most days I am never sure
I see the outline in my shadow
of who I can be
who I would like to be.
A stencil I have yet to trace.
I lost myself once-
regained a part of me I never knew
back when I found who I was again.
But I guess I'm still searching
in the parts of the world I have yet to know.
Days like today I do not wish for solitude.
Spending my days
searching for someone to spend my days with
but when they come to me
when they desire me it never turns the way I would like.
I scare too easy
most times I cannot remember what commitment means
even when it is spelled out for me inside of someone else.
I am not one to be kept-
no secret inside your suitcase just awaiting the x-ray.
The airplane ride to a location you haven't learned.
So teach me.
Wishing for someone in a world full of nothing
is simply childish.
Take off the mask,
let the cage open and run free.
I am not one to be kept
at least that's what it seems,
trampling over my sanity-
turning my desires into demons.
Take what's left of me
I do not wish to keep it anymore
you have burned it all away
I am now just ashes in your wake.
Blowing away with the words you never said-
the people you chose over me.
I am mine-
for eternity.
Tess May 2019
He sits on his chair of unearned power
Time caused his temper to spoil and grow sour;
Faulting those lower in the hierarchy,
He rests, contented in his monarchy;

He wreaks havoc on anyone with dreams;
Though his entity divides at the seams
King of his castle, he sits unconcerned
Playing with fire, about to be burned

He has not learned: what goes up must come down
Breathing in water, and soon he will drown
He pushes others down to lift him up
He is bitter and decaying closeup

Written and read in a voice of deadpan:
The crimes of a diabolical man
Maddie Jun 2019
I want you to feel like a mountain, like you’ve been molded for millions of years,
Faulting and bending and building to become as you appear:
Strong and towering and brave, always rising toward the sun,
Certain of your movements, determined to become someone.

I want you to feel like a river, overflowing with life and with love,
Rushing and curving and spilling to cover us all with your flood -
Nomadic and adventurous and free-spirited, never ceasing to explore the world,
The river of life and of love flows from the heart of a girl.

I want you to feel like a forest, growing up from your roots and your seeds,
Spreading and falling and flourishing, a life-force that helps us to breathe,
Layered and vibrant and plentiful, rising up when you’re given a chance,
Your branches extend out toward others, and you stand firm in your wind-woven dance.

I want you to feel like a wonder, I want you to feel like a sight,
Embedded in all that I see and experience, joining me on this journey through life,
You’re worthy and natural and life-giving, astonishing all who meet you,
You’re as beautiful as the world out there, and I’m stopping to enjoy the view.
For Casey
Satandra Asberry Apr 2017
I push away the ones that try to love me
Because the way I've been loved is painful to see
So please dont try to love me i have no clue how to love you
I runaway from love thats just what i do
Love don't love nobody all i end up is hurt and in pain
Wondering why I chose to love you faulting myself I take the blame
That pain that i suffered from love in my life
Caused alot of heartache and unbearable strife
As a child i had no one who truly loved me
I was a sacrifice as a child for my family to live free
I ranaway from the painful situation I was in
Ran into a older man who beat me to show his love for me within
I never knew that love in my life would hurt this much
I never knew that love will keep me within lusting for that touch
What i tried to do is bury my heart so it cant be hurt again
Not knowing that there's a possibility a person can try to mend
The feeling that if pain is love i don't want it at all
Everytime I was loved by anyone i always seem to fall
I guard myself from love or anyone trying to love me
For me love is a choice not to be taken for granted is how its supposed to be
Poetic T Jun 2018
Never once was the power just mine,
but the fellows and positivity of our oidins
                realm that lingers before us.

The people of Asgard were the battery
that powered every aspect that battled
           the insecurities of faulting races.

My sons thought that objects were there
        strength, but it was always with the
                                 confides of each other.
Power is within never externally pondering.


Within my last ventures my children will
             find a strength that builds walls against
             the onslaught of what collects against us.

Never falter my  kin of old,
             let us breath new life within the realms
that have lost hope, for lightening can strike twice.


"When the hammer shall fall, even though broke
                  nothing shall waver the brotherhood forged
"
Renard Jackson Jun 2016
Started from good to bad
from nice to eh
How things can be so liberal to takeoff heads because of a couple of words said
My senses tell me to have more common sense and dollars are not the only things that make cents
Enticed by your demeanor
Influenced by the way you move
Encourage through your words
I'm lost in you and it's a struggle to find myself again
Though it's bonds and sleepwalking nights over here, on the other side the grass is greener
One day I'll get over my pride
Faulting the situation trying to find every excuse
Questioning myself now
Losing grip of reality hoping for my Coretta
Misconceptions of my image as I am just a fish in a big pond fighting to get off this hook
With insides as cold as ice my flesh is humid as Florida summers
I push on or digging this hole deeper contemplating taking my head off with this same shovel
Consuming too much everything coming from a different angle
Disturbed but interested in awe of suspension
Reaching out to receive nothing but to lend a hand
But all you get is criticism and taunts, fake smiles and grunts
And here you stand still. ......
Emotions run deep life is to exhilarating to get caught on one thing just don't get caught up
Carlos Iglesias Sep 2019
Odds to find millions
Only need one

Could use a few others
Sitting on the plain
Casper should be my name
A flickering flimsy switch
Faulting to find a side

Just need one
Friends and that one to be around while trying to figure out what side I should show. Finding love and friends, trying to find a balance of who I am, figuring out who wants ME, rather than fighting over multiple versions of myself.
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2016
Is simply the ability to admit that
you're imperfect and apologise for every time that imperfection
comes in the way
You do that even without faulting
I guess that's why you're my
favourite character in this
novel of my labyrinthine life.

Please... stay beyond the last
page, stay until the very end.
You weren't here in my prologue...
My daily prayer's you can stay
by my side until my Epilogue
and even far beyond that...
Paradise would hold no
meaning without you, even
God knows you've made
Heaven of my tumultuous
earthly Hell.
Paige Jan 2022
It’s okay you know
That one day you’ll leave me behind
One day
You’re gonna decide to be happy
And that’s not gonna include me
It’s okay
That you’re gonna hurt me one day
That you look at me now
And you don’t see me
The way I see you
And it’s okay
That you don’t want me like that
That you need me in body
But not in soul
It’s okay that I’m just temporary
That I’m not really anything at all to you
It’s alright
It’s okay if you break me
If you try and try and try
It’s okay if you never really want me
Because that much I get
That much I understand
It’s okay if happy doesn’t include me
Because I want you to be happy anyway
And I love you enough
To let you do that
Without faulting you for never loving me too
It’s okay
To be selfish with me for a little while
Because I’d give anything
For just a little time
And it’s okay to call me
Because all I really want
Is to hear your voice
And it’s alright that it’s so one sided
It’s okay that you’ll never
Be able to give me what I give to you
Because I want to love you
Because I want to need you
Even if it doesn’t end well
I want to enjoy you while you’ll let me
Let you lie to me while you’re still willing
Just pretend you love me
Pretend for a while longer
That you want me around at all
Just keep me convinced
For even a few more minutes
That you might choose me someday
And I promise I won’t regret it
I promise the pain won’t pull me under
when you go
I’ll remember you fondly
And love you always
Even if, to you
I’m hardly a fleeting thought
So please
Because it’s really okay
If you break my heart
I just wanna believe
For a short little while
That you thought I was just enough
To love just a little
Kevin Apr 2017
the salt inside
slowed each drip of
my amniotic atlantic.
every pressing step
attached me to the
timeless shores of sin;
and the sun began to dry
this symbolic avant-garde collage.

my life began sticky wet,
outwards from the sea.
my ceaseless sins glued and dried
from the faulting sands of life.
but the distant patch of grass
beneath my smoothed and sticky feet
massaged more than that,
cleansing,
to walk through life anew.
I'm so sorry
I never meant to hurt your feelings.
I tried and tried.
I tried to tell you so many times.

But always waiting for me was a smile.
Breakfast in bed, at the right times.
Always there, to kiss me good night.
Never faulting, ever the gentleman.

Your company, always a delight.
The host with the treats,
The guest with the gift.

You were always happy,
Always kind.
The nice guy.

I didn't want to take that away.
I didn't want to make you cry.
How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?

You remember the dates,
You always put me first.
You do everything right.

So, How do I tell you that 'perfect' isn't making me happy?
That 'Mr. Right' isn't enough for me.
It hurt every single day.
I just didn't know what to say.

I'm sorry.
I never meant for you to find out like this.
I know I messed up,
Please, forgive me!
This poem is a response to an earlier published poem. See link below:

'Under The Tree' - https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3212169/under-the-tree/

— The End —