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Natalie Jan 2018
Growing up, I was taught the story of two men
One built his house upon the rocks and one upon the sand
And I learned the difference between humility and pride
I was taught to differentiate the foolish from the wise
Because when God sent the rainfall and the waters began to rise,
The house on sand crumbled right in front of thoughtless eyes
And my father would tell me, "Darling, don't build your foundation in the weak, in something that might die"
But I've been constructing my home on gravel my entire life

If there is a God
Why did he let me build my house upon the sand?
Why did he lay down every brick and let the nails tear through my hands?
I am an urchin in the dirt leaving claw marks in the earth
And my cries fall from my mouth and cling to my tattered shirt
If there is a God
Then why would he call himself a Father to me?
Why would he want to break my heart and crush my dignity?
He prides himself on the ringing in my ears
and his mason jars of tears
Instead of being my faith, why would God want to be my greatest fear?
If heaven is where he is,
then hell is anywhere but here

If there is a God
And he's my Father
And he is so divine
Then why did I grow up so sick and sad and tired all the time?
Why would he instill doubts from Satan himself for everyone to see;
"You're inadequate
Inadequate
That's all you'll ever be"
My mistakes render me useless,
At least, that's what Father says of me

And if there is a God,
And he's my father
How could he walk away as if nothing ever happened, although I have seen it all before
Because what happens in this House of Heaven stays behind closed doors
He would enter his bedroom, and leave the door open just a crack
So when he would read his Bible and show us how a true Christian should act
I'd turn to my little brother and say "I wish one day we'd be holy like that".

The mortar in my walls are breaking and the water is rushing in
I wish so badly to repair it, but I've always been like this
The dirt I fell in twenty years ago is matted to my skin
The cuts on my soul since childhood are all I've ever been
I'm sorry Father, for I have sinned
And I have nothing good to show
And I don't mean to point the blame, Father, but sin is all I've ever known

If there is a God, would he let me stand before his throne?
Would he take me into his arms and treat me as his own?
Would he wash my ***** shirt and let me stand where the saints have stood?
Would he help me build a house upon the rocks
Like a father should?

I wonder if I can build it well enough to reach him
Because my current house can't as long as its this way
If there is a God
I wonder what he'd say
about me

I am the prodigal daughter you never learned about in stories
Lizzy Jan 2015
What is this life?
I’m confused, where am I?
I don’t know what my purpose is.
Not yet.
Aseh Sep 2018
I was never looking into you
I was only pouring an image of myself onto your canvas
Of course I didn’t know
it was me looking into me
this was the mirage of my desire
always in the shape of a question mark
and you
a sweeping mystery
oozing something toeing the peculiar line between *** and titanium (cold, edgy, sharp - trembling
between pain and principle
like blazer and tie
or more like halfway-unbuttoned-shirt-and-slacks on-with-no-tie
(it was like you were making an effort!))

It was ***
but it also wasn’t ***
(I am empty
I am full)

I keep building up and up and up
all these images in my Mind
(which never shuts up)
(a never-ending narrative
She spins and spins and succumbs
only in those rare and passing circumstances)
constructing people like buildings
only the scaffolding is imaginary and when
the architecture folds in on itself
soulless
and my beloved figurines come toppling down on me
why do I still get so surprised
so stung
so lonely in that
hollow and distant way
(like your Mind is echoing
in on
Itself)?

My Mind is like quicksand
devouring streams of memory with ease
forever unsatisfied and craving more of the same
sharp edges and all
praying for a satiation in some distant future
She knows will never come

Only here
in this tiny universe
can I spell out anything resembling rationality
from the mess and junk and tangled tendrils of my Mind
Only here
can I extract bits and pieces of thoughts
and try to puzzle them together
until they make sense
until I can separate “Me” from “Reality"

And what doesn’t make sense
what I need to understand
is why I feel so beset
with this heavy magnetism that
overpowers me to the point of
paralysis
(with little to no room for breathing)
and why it was you
who pushed me into this feeling
and you
who is still pulling me along
far past the threshold of my resistance
and I am done
and it stings
Mya Apr 13
The figure
Tall
Wearing black and white
Walking to the side
With a limp
Is he hurt?
Do I know him?
Does he know me?
My inspiration was from a movie
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
How long is one day?
Some say it's a day
others say it's a day
with a night but one
is yet to figure it out.

Every day the sun sets
precisely at the end.
Only to rise new again
at the end of the night!
A day is never enough
to count a day.
slay Jan 2018
1
brush my eyelashes out from yours
clasp the nape so not to wake you
purged my blackheads from your pores
i gently exfoliate you
my hair is growing from your head
your nails are shooting out my beds
i file and i shape you

arms and legs unhinged from mine
bares his weight so not to wake me
closed a loop with both our spines
said he wants to figure eight me
i feel his heartbeat in my chest,
and our skin blends with each caress
his presence mediates me
How ephemeral the memories now seem.
As if they truly come from a world altogether unfamiliar…

Tis but a dream
The early mornings spent on ice,
The blinding lights and gorgeous whites,
Thirsty lungs,
Tired quadriceps,
And of course bruised knees.
And all of them filled to bursting with the emphatic movements,
Gestures,
Leaps,
And lifts,
Of the bladed ballerinas
That dance across my fading dreamscapes…

The ice-dancer glides effortlessly,
But with purpose austere.
Every muscle contracted in the manner most conducive
To manifesting their artistic desire.
From fingertips
To toe-picks
Their body transfigured into an instrument of emotion —
A weapon of beauty.
From start to end each routine is a metamorphosis:
Budding and blooming along a euphonious plane
Until the artist’s full potential is revealed…
The energy released —
The raw power,
Of the jumps and spins,
Kaleidoscopic fireworks
Clashing
Against the roaring white backdrop:
Each explosion
The ignition of a chambered round;
The spiralling bullet,
The impact on target…
The artist’s winter warfare actualized.

Last night,
As such ballerinas …riveting …terrifying
Danced around the panorama of my mind’s eye
I recalled that ultimate unison between flesh and spirit;
That of the figure skater
Painting their art
On a canvas most cruel.
EAC Dec 2014
A sudden jealousy a envious eye.
A voiceless pattern within this head of mine.
A vigilant figure, watchful eye.
A masked emotion on a blazing red sky.
I don't dare voice my thoughts because they are of scorn, my inside twist in discord.
A feeling, a urge to should, a voice so broken to see her stripped away
Verse: I
Yenson Dec 2018
What's wrong with you?
Who do you think you are?
Look, he thinks he's tough,
he thinks he knows everything
Seriously who does he think he is
Do you think you're Prince Regent
You think you're a hard man, yeah!
How dare you, how ****** dare you
You wanna mess with us, do you, big man

Don't you know who we are!
We the business, we're more than you
We ****** rule the ******* ****** world
We rule your ***, we make and bend the law
We take and we give, we are the ****** *******
We block and you're finished, no ****** ****, no life
We come from the South, East, West  and ****** North
We are gangsters and we got the contacts and the contracts
When we say jump, you ask, how ****** high should I jump

Look this ****** small geezer playing with us
How dare you making us feel frustrated and stupid
We'll got all kinds of mind **** ready to do your head in
How dare you not play ball, a woman set up to wind you up
Now we're not getting inside gossip and juicy stories to use
Now all the women waiting eagerly to hear bedroom gossip
are all disappointed cause you are not following the ****** plot
We can't bend your head and frustrate you and stress you out
You ****** small man, you're not even tall and you wanna diss us.

Who are you you little ******
We spend all our valuable time taunting you
We try and depress and torment you and you laugh
What do you want, do you wanna mess with People's Power
We can make you disappear if we want, do you know that big boy
We put all kind of moves on yer and yet you struts like a king
We harass your ****** mind and try to demoralize you
Listen sunshine you better stop being such a ******* smart ***
You think you ******* know everything, making us look stupid.

You better watch out, you better watch ****** out
Cause ain't no Santa coming for you, we are the Rulers
And we hate you and your big ******* ****, you ain't got *****
You are costing us ****** money, time and energy, you effin ****
Do you know some of us sit all day thinking up ways to get at you
Do you know some wait in the ****** cold to watch you all day
You think its easy having to think up nonsensical things to write
Or making up all kinds of scenarios all because of you *******
You think you are superman, Atlas and Einstein rolled into one!

Do you, George, Answer me George.....answer Me!!!
hahaha   hahaha    hahaha.........
Emmanuella Nov 2018
"I can’t figure it out.” She said.
“I like cigars,
and pretty dresses and crossing my legs.”
She paused,
then continued,
“And I like smoking cigars in pretty dresses while crossing my legs.”
She uncrossed them,
then crossed them again.
One smooth limb over the other.
Just like that.

“But I never seem to have a lighter on hand.
Could you— sir,
please light my cigar?”
“You see, I have no pockets to hold such things and my purse…
Well,
You’ve confiscated that, haven’t you?”

“Thanks.” She breathed,
and inhaled,
and exhaled;
Sluggish wisps of smoke dissipating into the air.
Just. like .that.

“I didn’t know L'homme was into women who smoke cigars in pretty dresses while crossing their legs", She said.
“I mean, how was I to know?
I only noticed him noticing me.
It was probably the way my hair was tousled like so,
Or how my lipstick shone a deep, dangerous rogue,
Or the way I sipped at my champagne…
That made him walk over.”

“But I never asked him to light my cigar
Or comment on my dress…
Or stroke my legs.
So when I whacked him up top over the head with my glass,
I bet he never expected it to shatter and split his skull like so.
He dropped so sudden, sir. I…”
Another ringlet of smoke, a sigh, an uncrossing and crossing of legs again.
“I had no clue,
what else to do,
But to sit still in my pretty dress, with my legs crossed, smoking my cigar trying to figure out...
Just how I'd committed ******.”
"She's a dangerous woman...
Who can ****,
Just with her *** appeal".
Shang Dec 2013
I am a
    figure of speech
           for the permanent solution
                of a temporary problem.

                you were the universe
          expressing it's depression.

         oh,
        how concerned you
     certainly always
   were.
  in total shambles-
I anxiously awaited
as time cleverly excluded you.

I now face this hurling semi alone.
(C) Shang
King Panda Aug 2016
the tiles that encompass me
are falling like dominos
this is blackness at its zenith and
I have a coneful
lucky me
it’s like the summer of ‘96
all over again
and my friend’s dad jumped
in front of a coal train
we ate ice cream that day
in the dank Minnesotan heat
everyone was dripping
the mosquitoes were flocking in
green cloud
ignite
flame
ignite

and the crunch of bones
like this water falling on my shoulders
wash
wash
again

the sticky syrup from my chin and
poor Dane’s pants smell and there is
**** pooling at his ankles
enjoy this chocolate-dipped cone
or possibly this one with
patriotic sprinkles
no
I think I’ll pass
I’m watching my ten-year-old figure
you see this paunch?
it is my heart
it is so fat and ugly
take it from me, god
enjoy it on top of your
sundae
I always looked better red-chested
anyway
Christian Ek Aug 2014
My pen is a wand. It can write a curse or a powerful charm. My pen is a mirror. It can show you a monster or a beautiful figure. My pen is a key. It can free you from a trapped door or it can lock you inside that door until the oxgen runs out and you can't breath. My pen is a weapon.  It will fight righteous battles or make a gruesome dissection. My pen is a balancing scale.
It is a balancing scale because it tilts when the yin & yang of my being begins to out weight one other.
Nothing is safe from my pen if i choose it not to be, my pen writes freely without filters or censorship.
My pen is a ship in the sea unable to maintain equilibrium set on a course to land. One day it will stay still, but on that day my pen will run out of ink.
When reality finally hits you it hurts
When the truth comes into focus it’s brutally painful.
Hope isn't always enough
It’s not always a happy ending.
What happens when faith is not enough?

I get hot flashes
My depression splashes
My soul is cold like stone,
the fear of being alone.

So now I lay me down to sleep
I pray you lord my soul to keep
Don’t let me die before I wake
I pray you lord my soul do not take.

I barely have a past
And may have no future
       Empty pages of a book
       A story left unwritten
       A life left unlived
       A hope left in the dust.
Please don't take me yet
Your mercy you won't regret
I am down on my knees
Begging you please
Don’t take me away.

At night I dream a misty graveyard
A tombstone the name I cannot see
A flashlight in the darkness
A figure so lifeless I cannot breathe.
Then I awake not as fearless as I may seem.

If this is my future
And if it comes to pass
And this breath be my last
Then this thought to you I cast.

What if faith is not enough?
Then life would be rather tough
With nothing to believe in
And nothing to justify
Nothing to keep you sane
Nothing to grasp when you fall
You will have nothing,
nothing at all.

Sometimes that is how I am
Falling in the darkness
With nothing to take hold
This feeling leaves me cold
hearted, soulless, empty.
All I feel is the pain of being unreal
No one knows how this life feels,
when you are so lifeless.

So now I lay me down to cry
I pray you lord you can't let me die.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Close my eyes without a peep
Never to be opened again.

Your body goes warm then cold like rain
Slowly your body numbs,
to your fingers and your thumbs.
As your body stops working, you feel the cold mist of death
And peacefully while you’re sleeping you take your final breath.
© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com
Jeff Gaines Apr 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
It is so sad to see someone change and then have to ponder whether this was them becoming someone else ... or if they were somehow fooling you all along and that now, you are seeing the real them for the first time.

ca·price
kəˈprēs
noun
noun: caprice; plural noun: caprices
1.
a sudden and unaccountable change of mood or behavior.
"her caprices had made his life impossible"
synonyms: whim, whimsy, vagary, fancy, fad, quirk, eccentricity, foible More
2.
MUSIC
another term for capriccio.
_____________________________________________

ca·pric·ci·o
kəˈprēCHēˌō
noun
noun: capriccio; plural noun: capriccios
a lively piece of music, typically one that is short and free in form.
a painting or other work of art representing a fantasy or a mixture of real and imaginary features.
HJV Mar 7
You share your words, I cup my ears.
You shed your shell, I catch your tears.

When life goes awry, wisdom gives bliss.
I hold your face, forehead graced with kiss.

My words are calm, warm, and tranquil.
I'm gentle, understanding; tell me how you feel.

You're unburdened, cumbersome no more.
Uplifted you thank me and say your peace.
I'm alone again, but it's better now. I'm sure.
Wings flap; I close my eyes and feel the breeze.

Their once storms, now but a gust.
Shepard their dragons, I must.

Their dragons are slain, the fire is gone.
I shoulder their pain, my words drawn.

As they sleep, I sit and gaze at the stars.
I'm arrested, their beauty. Oh, how they glisten.
Frankly, I weep as I'm fighting their wars.
As dark as the night may fall, I'll always listen.

To whose ears may I profess?
Am I not too, simply a mess?

No one to be me, for the father.
Everyday, the man seems closer yet farther.

Who is there when it all seems so bad?
I know who I am, the man, my own dad.
My father passed away 6 years ago. No one stood up to be a father for my younger brother and I, so I took the responsibility upon myself.
mariamme Jun 2018
i've just realized
i am a little too hungry
for the world's delicious hidden things
to sit here idly still
waiting upon those who watch over me
to figure out i'm not a figurine
to handle with care and
twirl on pedestals for the eyes of family friends
as though accomplishments
are only made of paper and years' hardships
and "look, dear, she did it!"s that
only bring bile to my lips
not proud smiles like i plaster
as though i'm only yours, nothing more

can you feel the furnace in my roots
lapping at the scraps of solitude
and fanciful imaginings that i throw
to sate the beast begging for death
of your dominion over my wellbeing
i don't want to be safe right now, love
i want to feel the rain on my face
and have permanence taper
until all that's left of me
is lived experience, no paper trails
and accolades that gather dust and wither.
so much to do and then regret later, until i'm past regret at age 87 with tattoos up my thighs and lots of fun stories about lived experience to tell.
laura Oct 2018
this poem is hidden from strawberry fields who has her "hide explicit poems" checked on. this doesn't make any sense since there's nothing explicit in it. i can't figure out which word is messing with it :S

copy the link and follow it
https://gyazo.com/a67ca996cf151d8c5ace6715bbe44d70
Athena's eyes shone a million shades of silver
from within the storm cloud.
All was soon to be cast down.

An immobile figure enthroned in the vapor,
The statue clothed in a marble gown
of flowing robes set in stone.

Disorientation was thunder bound.
Concussion struck
a tidal wave of sound.

The concrete figure glanced around
as dark rays pierced the grey cloud.
Everything fell straight to the ground.

Minerva's owl flew far away
to hide under a secretive cowl.
"Knowledge is power, hide it well."
What was it that hid aloft in the clouds?
The world trembled
as I wondered aloud.
I assume you once danced the Cabaret
By how you strut your Flexi-Form abroad
This I figure on weeks-by-two per se
The Ardent Friend your Fervour can behold
T'was the Charm which every Fruit can discuss
And win many Smiles for a Pint or Ink
Telling us flat, Life can take us that Far,
In a Bus run by Monday's Downey Sink
Was it wrong to know the Inner-Woman-You
That Principle so many Thinkers deny:
"******-Hub! Buck-Forth! Lev, Lev, Lub, Lub, Le, Loo!
Then Drink your Bub-Clouds to Barrels on high!"
Nah, Forgive my Fishes, Sir! I bestate
You're one Sav Foretainer - Dance with me, Mate!
#rustyrockets
I used to think life would be perfect, never a frown on my face
I’d have a perfect figure and always travel with grace,
I could pick my man from a catalogue that’s grown fit for a queen
I never thought that the people I loved could ever be so mean.

Life kind of just hit me not waiting ‘til I was ready
Knocked me from my stance in which I was so steady
It changed me as a person, a person that’s not me
It has changed me into everything I don’t want to be.
Sometimes I just can’t grasp it with the help of all my friends
It’s like trying to wrap your arms around a tree that never ends.

When I look in the mirror I despise what I see
The person starring back doesn’t resemble me,
She’s quite a different person with her heart so out of place
She becomes invisible when the tears run down her face.
She built a wall of shame around her soul and let’s no one in
She can fool you with her smile even though she cries within.
She keeps her feeling locked up in her heart
So when she’s all alone is when she falls apart.

I act as if I have it together and everything is in place
But when you’re not looking the tears begin to race
While people surround me I pretend not to care
My heart bleeds in pain when they are not there.

When my stomach gurgles with rage, you think its indigestion
But what is broken is more the appropriate question.
What is broken cannot be fixed so don’t worry my friend
I’ll take this curse from the beginning to the very end.
Help me if you can listen, help me if you will
But I can’t cure this curse because there is no pill.

© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
I was just a young child when I was first diagnosed with leukemia. A young girl who’s fate would have brought her to the grave. But look at me now. I am standing here in front of you and although I may be far different from all of you on the outside, I am still a person on the inside. My physical scars in time will heal, but my emotional scars will remain forever.

Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com
Sardonic god roaming free,
In search of divine his comedy.

Sly gentleman with a wicked grin;
Foreboding figure, philanthropic sin.
Kellin Jun 2018
I need something to fill this
void,
So I will beg for your
figure
And I will take to try and fill this empty
insatiable
inquietude
But still I am still greeted with empty hands
and
dejection
juneau Feb 11
it was not quite morning, yet, i woke in my bed
in the doorway there was darkness and a black figure i read
standing in the doorway in silence, not a word, nothing said
i could just make out its eyes: yellow, and black with a hue almost red
it was staring at me filling me full with dread
i saw it's hands rested on the doorframe with fingers wide-spread
i tried not to scream but an airy hiss left my head
as all of my courage and sanity fled
then i swear this figure, back into the darkness it bled
until i could no longer tell it from the shadows at the foot of my bed
February 11 2019

fifty-eight

Couldn't sleep last night
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