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RandiRabid Oct 2013
Darkness replaces the light
Cautiously I slink through the night
Rolling down my sleeves
As my love for you bleeds

“Hush hush,” you say
“For our love must be secret.”
“Hush hush,” I say
“For we cannot waste our time.”

My chest gets tight
My heart takes flight
Lips on lips
This is what they make movies about

“Hush  hush,”  you say
“For we must wait.”
“Hush hush.” I say
“For I’ve caught on to your lies.”

Life comes crashing down
Smile turning to frown
Tears rush down my face
This movie is starting to look like a horror film

“Hush hush,” you say
“For I swear I’m true.”
“Hush hush,” I say
“For it’s time for you to go.”

My knife slides up to your throat
While I show you what’s under my coat
Fear shocks your body
A Cheshire smile on my lips
There are no more hushes
How will your lies save you now?
I’ll give you one last lullaby
Now beg for your life
I’ll show you hurt
I’ll show you pain
Let flow what’s keeping us alive

“Hush hush,” I say
“For our love must be secret.”

The last words said before we collapse
There we lay motionless
Eternal Bliss
Rangzeb Hussain Mar 2010
Who is that rides so late in the forest so dark and wild?
It is but a helpless father and his frightened and lonely child,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The father cradles his lovely son gently in his arms,
He keeps him snug and he keeps him warm and he keeps him calm,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My son, why do you wrap your radiant face in such dread and fear?”
“Mine father, can you not see the Erl-King? He draws ever so near!”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O father! The Erl-King with his weedy crown and thorns of pain is here!”
“My son, it is nothing more than mist and rain on the plain over there.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Sweet lad, O come into my jolly lair and join me, do!
Many pretty and joyful games do I promise to play with you.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

On the forest floor the autumn flowers die in the suffocating cold.
“O you dreaming lad, I have for you garments of red silk dyed in gold.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Mine father, mine father, can you not hear my rising fear?
The Erl-King drips dark promises and breathes in my ear! Help me, father dear!”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Be calm, stay calm, rest my child, stay easy and keep your head low,
In these withered leaves it is only the night winds that creep and roar.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My rosy lipped lad, will you come take a merry stroll and dine with me?
My daughters three shall care for you and many wonders will you see.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My silky daughters of darkness live in yonder castle in shadows deep,
They three will dance and sing and cradle you to the sweetest of sleep.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Mine father, mine father, O can you not see the red eyes in his fearful face?
The Erl-King’s misty-eyed daughters live in that haunted place!"
The wind blows icy cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My son, my son, I see the frozen milky moon very clear
And how the ancient weeping willows like castles in the dark do appear.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O how delicious you smell, my tender innocent succulent boy!
Come off that horse and take these wonderfully coloured bright toys.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O father, my father, the Erl-King has seized me by the arm!
His long bony claws crawl toward my heart to do to me hungry harm.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The father whips and rides fast but his warm cottage is away by a mile,
In his arms he holds the groaning, twisting, shivering child,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The horse halts outside the family home and the father looks with dread
For his son, his only child, he holds in his arms is now dead!
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Weep quietly as this tragic tale is now all told.
Inspired by the work of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Franz Schubert.
Dev A Jun 2015
Hush child let me tell you a tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

There once was a girl
Who believed in the paranormal
And would turn at the slightest sounds in a whirl.

Hush child and listen to my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

She would always turn on a light
To illuminate what lay in the shadows
When she went about in the night.

Hush child and devour my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

Living alone was she
When the darkness sought her out
And attempted to corrupt her psyche.

Hush child, now listen closely to this tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

As she left the door to her room
She froze where she stood
As she gazed upon her doom.

Hush child, pay attention to my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

There stood a man in a top hat
Across the hall
He seemed ready for combat.

Hush child, do you hear the truth in my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed?

The man stood across from her
Staring and nothing more
But his dark silhouette was a blur.

Hush child, hear now this tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

As they stood there
Watching one another
The girl felt a flair

Hush child, accept my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

The girl took a step back
Closing her door
With a resounding SMACK!

Hush child, for this is my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

The girl was frozen and feeling insecure
Staring at the back of her door
For what she felt was simple and pure.

Hush child, it’s almost over, this tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

The man in the top hat
Across the hall
Radiated evil, pure and simple as that.

Hush child, the end is near of this tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

She stood staring at the door in her room
Never wanting to leave again
For fear of having an early tomb.

Hush child, give ears to this tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

There once was a girl
Who believed in the paranormal
And would turn at the slightest sounds in a whirl.

Hush child, just listen to the tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

She would always turn on a light
To illuminate what lay in the shadows
When she went about in the night.

Hush child, this ends my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed.

She lives in fear of the ghost
For she knows he will return
When she thinks she is safe the most.

Hush child, do you believe my tale
Of a ghost and a girl
When darkness assailed?
Hush momma, please do not cry
Hush momma, please do not die
Please stay from deaths' cold touch
Hush momma, please hush

Hush momma, I am here
Hush momma, do not fear
Into Heaven do not rush
Hush momma, please hush

Hush momma, you are cold
Hush momma, you I hold
My heart is going to crush
Hush momma, please hush
Grace Jun 2018
I cant tell you how much the hush hush hurts,

the gaps,

[the deliberately left blanks]

the silences that make me scared of saying words out loud.


It's the switching of meanings that does it,

all the tip toe awkwardness

the swift, unconscious side steps.


It's the whole long stretch of silence,

the whole deliberate

accidental

hush hush of something I never even knew the name of.  


It's the casual,

forgettable

drops of slights

that I'm still turning

over and over.


It's a hush hush never intended to be malicious but

the quiet twists and tears

and so I can never tell you how much the hush hush hurts

because the silence keeps me hush hushed too.
Working through some things I guess. It's hard to address the hush hush when you know it wasn't malicious, just accidental or a result of a different time. I wonder if they even know about the hush hush? I wonder if they know they kept it? Anyway it's something I need to work through and poetry helps or something

Note: So we talked about the hush hush without words but it's okay, maybe it's how we do things best. And the hush hushed becomes a thing of vibrant, rainbow colours and it's lifting off my shoulders and I think in a glowing kind of way that maybe there's something in this that will be okay. And I wonder how you knew but for now it remains hush hushed because I can’t quite talk about it yet. I wear it instead, I wear my colours instead and maybe that speaks enough for the moment. (Fourteenth of September Two Thousand and Eighteen)
Rebel Angel Sep 2015
She sits in her room and remembers the empty words...
They swore they would save her, but she wants to soar with the birds.
One cut to make it stop hurting, to make it go away.
Two cuts, because she will pass out before she sees another day.
Three cuts, because two just isn't enough anymore.
Four, because this one will surely take her to Heavens door.

Hush Little Baby don't you cry..
Mommy swore she would never say goodbye..
Hush Little Baby don't say a word...
Daddy swore he would save you from the screams that went unheard.
Hush Little Baby don't you scream...
No one will be there to save you from the nightmares dream.

She wakes in a pool of her own blood, and it makes her cry.
She was hoping this time it would be it; she would finally die.
She cleans up the mess, because no one can know.
She smiles a smile with an angels glow.
They all think she is happy and fine.
Soon, she will be lost to it all, soon she will be Mine.

Hush Little Baby don't you close your eyes.
They were supposed to save you, now she says goodbyes.
Hush Little Baby don't you fall...
Death is coming and he will help you through it all.
Hush Little Baby don't you die...
Depression will take you and sing a lullaby.

It's to much, and there is nothing she can do...
She tried it all, but no one can here the screams...not even you.
She lays in bed and writes her goodbye.
She doesn't address it to anyone because no one will cry.
Once it's written she sets it down, she knows what to do..
She takes the pills and slices her wrists, she says goodbye to the ghost of you.

Hush Little Baby don't be sad.
They won't even notice, not your mom or dad.
Hush Little Baby don't fear the other side.
Your baby sister will be the one to find you had died.
Hush Little Baby don't feel bad...
You made your choice, it's to late to be sad.
Andrew Castillo Nov 2010
Diving deeper into you
Feeling the roughness of your skin
Pressed against mine
A look, a touch
Sends me to my knees
Crashing against the cold dirt
Sinking beneath the surface
Slipping into darkness
Burning with passion
Fleeing from advances of creatures I know not of
Whispering hush hush
To silence the sounds of my heart
For love is a dangerous game
Be still my blackened heart
For you do not need to change
Just place barbed wire across the fences you built
Hush hush I say to my brain
Because logic sees the reasoning
Yet I do not need to listen to the voices in my head
As I can plunge farther into myself
Causing no more pain
No love to give or receive
Hush hush I say to myself
As I let go of all reason to stay afloat
anyone who has been in this position
will tell you:
              when you start reading philosophy
books, well...
   there's not much a psychologist
or a psychiatrist can really help you with...
after all: psychology is pop philosophy,
it's an off-shoot of philosophy,
       and that's not some pompous
affirmation of the subject matter,
            it just is, what it is,
                 blatantly it's rather problematic,
if the h'american education system
introduces philosophy in high school...
you should really discover philosophy
aged 21, at least 21...
        hell, alcohol and *** can come before,
as they naturally will...
but i have a sharp aversion with regards
to teaching teenagers any philosophy...
again: what an over-used term:
   "philosophy" - esp. in the climate
of self-help gurus...
                  philosophy is not a subject
that fixes ****... it complicates life...
   and when life is already complicated:
the only aid is to at least
fortify your mind...
                     rarely a life uncomplicated
with an uncomplicated mind...
but such life exists...
  nonetheless...
                  these days philosophy lies
in the shallow grave of psychology...
                 psychology just seems to be
a pursuit, a cascade of schematism,
    oh yes... schematism...
           schematism is the new scholasticism,
on note, that medieval system becomes
more and more appealing...
   without jumping to any conclusions...
hard to pick up random facts,
unshakeable facts for a befitting narrative...
i mean, the usual suspects are there:
the big bang, darwinism, world war II...
but there is no "real" narrative
      for so many of us...
                        unless from mouth to mouth...
but from a mouth you've never heard
speak?
          a distant voice that has no power
to resonate?
                 in my hands i hold two books...
history of germany 1918 - 2000...
           modern history is so dry...
                      people in this book are so
unimportant upon a retrospective reading,
even ****** is akin to a dwarf...
    since the "concern" is germany...
             history books, a great genre,
when dealing with individuals,
    esp. medieval individuals...
       for what is history?
                         an incremental seduction
by minor events toward a memorable
crux, a single: outstanding culmination
zenith / sigma...
                           the summa summarum
of here and now.
   will it be considered "****" to have
a fetish for the german tongue,
after all, west saxon, english,
   is the offspring of altmanndeutsche
(would i have a fetish for russian?
   i don't think so, i'm too entwined in english)
alles in allem auf hier und jetzt...
    again: heidegger's dasein seems to be
forward looking: rather than inward looking...

so, in my other hand?
     jim bradbury's biography of...
    philip augustus: king of france 1180 - 1223...
a mighty book... but more a mighty person
invoked...

what is to justify man's desire for happiness,
for the content life?
                        the more i ever felt the relief
of a contentment with life:
         the more it passed me by,
                     i was more or less asleep than
awake.

         eh! the current canvas of history via
the mainstream application bores me,
jumping between the two genesēs of
the big bang (yeah, in a vacuum, good luck
playing a violin up there,
with someone reciprocrating what
eventually looks like a mime) and darwinism...
it's congesting: custard for a brain -
      vanillesoße zum ein(e) gehirn -
out of the blue, a question -
    is it the same in german as in english,
regarding the indefinite article?
        i.e. a tree
                        an amber stone
         ein gehrin
                 or eine gehrin,
         the grapheme question...
  are two vowels allowed to mingle again?
   i.e.               æmblem
                       well... doesn't that become
a directive? an indirect article composed
of itself and a noun becomes definitive,
a definite article? as far as i'm aware...
there are no consonant graphemes...
sure... you can have SZ (SH) reduced to
a caron S (hiding the Z like a hebrew
might hide a vowel) i.e. Š...
                                       just a thought...

funny that... after my first psychotic
trip (mild drug, marijuana, so hardly
a point breaker) - i once studied chemistry,
i was semi-good at mathematics...
but then... my language skills / interests
exploded...
                     it became and has remained
a fixation...

  mind you, if you're still in high school
and are taking up majors,
and are thinking about furthering your
language skills?
               flat chance of you achieving
your satisfaction taking pure english lessons...
i took history...
     and history? well, you're still taking
an english major, but a major in a science,
at least all the history books have
a gratifying narrative...
              but in terms of history per se?
etymology...
                 how words arrived,
and how words morphed...
         guilty! i like to confine myself
to the sort of history i find to be bound
to a comprehesive retreat...
           big **** darwinism and all its
regressive ontological tactic of explanation
is one thing, the big bang is another thing
also...
               but at least i can return
to the history span that begins,
   and ends... with phonetic encoding...
the birth of thought,
when you could begin to shut up
without an empty bath's worth of the head,
but all the plastic ducks and foam
in your head, and itchy finger tips...
greedy buggers who could only be
satisfied with an alphabet,
and puzzles of words, and later sentences...

just give me a bottle of whiskey,
a decent album (akin to wooden shjips V)
and i'll sing like the kind of sparrow
you only hear at night...

and all this current ******* of "m'ah opinion",
my opinion this, my opinion that,
that "grand" constructions,
             surely it would be easier for
the phallus to find a ******
     than a tongue to find the dialectical
insertion point of the whole "my" opinion...
well, not really, every time i think of the act,
i always found the insert point
to be below my original intent,
what with women having
   to seemingly parallel coccyx bones
either side of their pelvis...
            the frontal deceptive coccyx
bone just above the v'ah-g-g...
            eh... amateur... even with prostitutes...
but this whole: it's my opinion!
it's my opinion! well, you'd be hopeful
to entertain a dialectic also,
apparently that's not the case:
give, "my" opinion insinuates:
     it cannot be debated, it cannot be changed,
no other person can entertain it,
what a primitive defence mechanism...
even poisonous frogs have
a better defence mechanism...
            again: i don't really own anything
in this world,
   i'm only guarding it, but i don't own it:
the everyday story of every single
antique...

  again, back into a "critique" of history
as a literary genre,
               i own a few first editions,
     the biography of philip augustus is one
of them: 1998 edition, first,
which is beside the point...
            i'm sure that life in medieval europe
was harsh...
but at least you had peacock characters,
rather than this, moden, bland c.c.t.v.
reality t.v. personalities...
              oh of course modern life
has all the perks... standing in line...
               but there's no way of replacing
an adventurous ambition with
complacency and comfort...
plus, they had such great names!
        peaches geldof (rest in peace)...
peaches?!
               compared to bertran de bron?
joscius?           conrad of montferrat?
  saladin & the ayyubid empire?
       hell, the smaller the tribe,
  the better the name...
             the angevins, the capetians,
the merovingians!
         now?        eh: zee fwench.
boo'ring...
   even a bull wouldn't charge at
the colour red even if you wanted him
to.

again: these days you can rely on
people who know the facts...
   and factoid checking is all we ever do
these days, being always "right"...
facts overshadow the story we're about
to tell...
            a bull charges at head:
because he / it sees a honing pointer
of: there's something "missing"...
              daltonism "vs." protanopia...
i once had a high school fwend who
laughed... at this catholic high school...
purple blazers were yellow to him...
who needs l.s.d. then?

       once again... a medieval history book?
as a genre?
                so many stories...
but there is no a priori factual check
impetus...
     the facts are a posteriori...
  what is a priori? the story...
                          and why wouldn't
philip augustus be overlooked?
given the fwench rhe-vou-lú-çion?!
****! T gone missing! T gone missing!
the H is a surd, but it shoved itself
past the cue, elbows high!      
          
  the battle of bouvines (bou-veens,
or: bou-v'ah)
                     depends...
                how selective we "must" become
to make choices from such
an impossible spectrum of events...
after all... muslims readily cite and remember
the crusades, even to this day...
hush hush the sacking of baghdad by
the mongol horde...
for the library was burned and
the skulls were stacked!
hush hush about the first defeat
of the mongols by the mamluk slaves
in egypt... who weren't mohammedians
to an extent of being slaves...

you almost stand there,
bewildered... what about the jihad
into mongolia...
well at least go and help your brothers
out in Xinjiang and Henan!
why isn't the botherhood attempting
to jidad their way:
jihad with the chinese communist party?

hush hush... let's adore the palm trees
lining avenue des Champs-Élysées...
let's sit back... procreate for a while...
eat the good food...
let's sit back and procreate...
the 2010s was a good year for fear and
tarantulla bite-numbing escapades...
let's just sit and procreate...
let's become lazy... chant with the Tehran
zindiqs ****'ites! deaf to h'america
and we've conquered London and...
just sit back... because... we've earned it...
we have satisfied ourselves with
the blood of the ***** (kuffar)...
allah the almighty will bless us in
our respite concerning those Persian
zindiqs! the people of the desert with but
one book have conquered!

true indeed: where a jihad would be
even deemed "justifiable"...
in cha-cha-china... where muslims are
being persecuted... London! London!
we need more in London...
well this whole: muslim brotherhood
and the whole muhammad ali thing...
malcolm x... only worked...
but this is the chinese doing it to their own...
no need to intervene and bring
the good people back into the ummah...
    
  hush hush, hush hush, hush hush...
cherry picking history, are we?
    well...            let's cherry pick together!
look at this garden of time:
plenty of picks, plenty of beginnings!
at this point: a certain amount of history
can become fiction,
and not in a bad way...
it can become the basis for "studying"
archetypes...
             funny how time treats those
who experience it...
    it mutates them...
                   and to no purpose
of appealing to the general public,
  so much can and has happened in my life:
and yet...
         nothing is worth the curator's knowledge
of commentary,
  the status of laureate:
   i'd sooner be found, bound to the pleasure
of shooting dead ducks floating in
the water with a slig-shot...
       than, whatever, the aspiration for
the post, deserves;
  g.c.s.e. allowed poetics can deal with that...

again:
   why is poetry so overtly scrutinißed?
no one makes so many notes regarding prose...
but then poetry is being analyßed?
out come the scalpels, the weights,
the whole forensic scrutiny!
        10 words are expanded into
a 10,000 word essay...
      gay science my ***...
                   it's the most over-scrutinißed
form of language,
no wonder people are intimidated
by it... who would want to write in a medium
that has so much scrutiny hovering
above it: and no, it's not a ******* halo
or a laurel wreath!

           there's only so much meaning
that can be derived from a sentence,
before the pun, dries out,
  before the metaphor, dries out,
before all these bogus over-stressed
ars poetica identifiers via "technique" become
exhausted, and what you're left with,
is the ancient art of narrative...
  
  yeah, sure sure, i too wish my narrative
"skills" were better...
             i'm streuengehirn...
              if i really wanted to write
a ******* mathematical rubric of:
1 x 1 = 1
1 x 2 = 2
1 x 3 = 3...            i'd be currently writing
a YA vampire romance trilogy...
do i look like someone who's going to write
a YA vampire romance trilogy?!

           eh... back when you could respect
a homosexual akin to william burroughs...
back to a tomorrow's worth of respecting
a homosexual akin to douglas murray...
   or that gay sitcom starring
           ian mckellen & derek jacobi...

                       two old **** talking:
        eloquence and ettiquete...
                     now, that was fun...
i too wish some perv shoved his ****
through my ***, picked up my hands...
and transformed by idle tongue
to present a, stage performance worthy
of an encore...
                             alas...
   given the current climate...
          i'm stuck with the sort of gays
the old gays would probably be ashamed of...
so much for the adventure and
          the... courage... of feeding a pleasure
of "something" going in, rather than coming out...

irritable bowel syndrome from time to time,
i honestly enjoy taking a **** too much,
so much so that i find the male
****** to be overrated.

post- scriptum musing:

favourite past-time?
catching a mosquito by the *****
while wearing boxing gloves.  
  
don't know how drunk doesn't
translate into shy...
or how the former translates
into an antidote for the latter
(&
   also
     bound to italics) somehow...

a fool's idle wondering
equating itself with
all the world
   and the men invested in it:
ambitions, adventures,

            so... who's going to follow
suite in gratifying this "grand"
errand?
             surrounded by unshakeable
cliffs of "knowledge" of facts...
what story is to be told,
without a fear of plagiarißm?
since there is a fear:
it implies... the story is not worth
passing on,
not unless the newly-born arrive
and are born from a foreign
body, not alligned
   to the organic allignement
of continuity...
  pass what may pass...
               once again: arriving
at the jargon babylon deposit of
the fuel for a will to live,
                             as shared universally.
Scip Feb 2013
Who is this?
A writer speaking to another -
to whom it may concern.

What sadness do you attend to?
That peculiar grief encircling you.

You hear whispers that blight your grounds,
Clinging unto you with very much different sounds,

So insane - so sane - so insane,
One after the other, the stretching claws of
this morbid bane,

Uncalled for, but in laden laid,
Hush little one - there is for no reason
to be afraid.

"But why is the fear so real?"
You may ask and knock the door,
"Why are things so perplexed?"
You may wonder
while lying on the cold and ***** floor,

But then a question better -
'Why - are we even here?'
Why are our feet standing on this ground?
Whilst all stories are getting sadder,
What materialism blinds us from -
is what our ears had grown deaf and
had forgotten of one much important sound,

Hush little one - close and open your eyes again,
Are not the skies so vastly laid and beauteous?
Now bring your attention from where all things had began,
Are not the trees that bear fruits, growing and in surplus?

Hush little one - for we are all small and insignificant,
Those who are arrogant will fall,
And yes - we are mankind, the one chosen,
bestowed proprietary as a vicegerent ,
But the mountains laid are ever more
sturdy and tall,

Hush little one - all of us were born to die!
And do not mistake my hush as to undermine,
Hush! Silence the world and close your eyes!
And let your heart and mind open
to find the shine!

The light that bursts and could cure the heart,
A light like no other -
that no darkness could tear apart.

Hush - and clear your mind,
Hush - for you have forgotten of The Lord Benign.
Famous Isaacs Jun 2014
I’m a child and not a bride, but
Last month you made me marry you.
You know it wasn’t love that made me say yes
But the fear of what shape my death could take
If I were to turn you down. Of course
I had no voice. I could only muse to myself
In the dark closet and imagine myself
A mother at thirteen: would it be awesome?
Would it be dreadful? Would it…? I died of anxiety.

Last month you made me marry you.
I had no time to discover me for myself:
Who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be;
I had no time to think before I had to say yes.
But it pains my bones to the marrow.
I am an unripe fruit for the eating.
I am a piece for the show-glass.

Last month you made me marry you.
I spent nights upon nights weeping over how you’ve
Broken me; how you’ve set my life ablaze
Like a forest in a wildfire;
And now the once-upon-a-time sweet sounding music
Of my soul is burnt into silence.
I have forgotten the dialect of my soul.
I hush. I hush. I hush. I hush. I hush.
You have beaten silence into me,
And now I have to prepare to moan and wail
Beneath your weight, while I watch you helplessly
As you bite into my innocence,
As you suckle the un-ripeness out of me,
As you dig into my childhood and pleasure yourself
In the childhood screams you hear from me.
But it isn’t the fun that makes me scream.
It is the bitter pain of knowing, of remembering
That my life ended at thirteen:

Broken like a fallen calabash
In the hands of a fifty-five year old man.
2013, in Nigeria, a 55-year old Senator married a 13-year old girl. The #ChildNotBride campaign against the senator's decision was born.
Sonja G N Woods Feb 2018
Hush hush
sleep my little boy
Hush hush
you are my great joy
Hush hush
I guard all your dreams

Hush hush
smile my little boy
Hush hush
I bring you a toy
Hush hush
I guard all your dreams
Things wait
To get better.
No telling when
How
But things are always ******
The delays
Non proper days.
Make sence of this.
I cant
Or start talking.
Which to that
I'll simply tell you to
hush
Shhhhhhh
Do not leave this behind.
This is the origins of
A new begining.
Hush
They'll tell you.
Let it happen.
Swirling blackness blurred everywhere.
Touched
In all the wrong ways.
Hush.
Hit every day.
Hush
Taken to a strange place
Hush
Murdered
Hush.
All cut up
Hush
When does the madness end?
Is it okay to ask
Or is my answer
**hush
Time stopped
insides ripped apart
hearts twisting
I feel numb
Empty and depressed
hush don't tell
keep it a secret
hush don't tell
they'll be there just for the kicks
hush let it burn
hush they don't have to know
hush keep it all inside
hush let it burn
hush let it burn
hush let it burn
HUSH LET IT BURN
hush lights out
YourNightLight Jun 2018
Little girl with the large, dark eyes.
Adorable & innocent, nothing to sexualize.
Man in black with the twisted mind.
Never thought or perhaps cared just how much he would put this little girls life in a bind.
She did not speak for a long time.
No recollection but over time, there's things she would find.
No justice was delivered.
No recognition, it seems.
Everyone has buried the trash.
No more talk about the past.
Hush, hush.
Woman with the large, dark eyes.
She holds anger & silently cries.
Hush, hush.
Keep it all inside.
We are interlopers with one goal
to get back to the Hush Hush gardens
there we will lay in lush green grass
letting the days do we go past

Rolling and swaying all in loving care
as we do discard our underwear
two in a throwing our inhibitions away
for five nights and five days

In the Hush Hush garden we keep many secrets
of deeds buried in the cool sodden soil
our good deeds are many
and yet we do still toil

Lightening is cascading on dark skies
in this ancient garden of the low and highs
for this is the place we buried our dead
where we stay calm as others do loose their heads

Both in unity
both sick in the head
so close in soul
that we are the communion of the dead


By Christos Andreas Kourtis akk NeonSolaris
ALesiach Jul 2019
Hush, my little one, sleep awhile,
Nestled 'neath my heart of love
I'll sing to you, sweet and low
'Til heaven streams, bright with gold

Hush, my little one, sleep awhile,
My love abounds to guard thy sleep
Drifting away 'neath silvery moon
While stars twinkle away your gloom

Hush, my little one, sleep awhile,
Tender kisses caress thy cheek
Hush'd by my gentle whispering
Lull'd in the land of dreaming

Hush, my little one, sleep awhile,
There is nothing to fear
While I am near
Hush, my little one, sleep awhile

ALesiach © 07/2018
Zach Gomes Feb 2010
This is the third evening I have lived in a hush.
A thousand others like me know the feel of warm hush.

The student in the library, snug in her work;
She’s caught up in her work and the scribbling hush.

A sporting man, dressed in white, at the courts of Central Park—
Tennis courts, one next to the other, he knocks echoes into the hush.

The woman singing jazz at some bar, swaying, drunk.
Her audience of three blinks like a dumb hush.

A man at a deli sits, hunched behind the counter;
Morning light slips through his cigarette smoke: white hush.

At 4 am, two train lights appear down the track—
Tungsten lights add a brightening hush.

And I sit by the wall in the hospital’s small waiting room.
There is no one in the hall, no one in the chairs, only me and the hush.
Kerrigan Reyes Apr 2014
Hush little baby
don't you cry
your oh so very sad
and you've grabbed the knife
hush little baby
don't you cry
don't run the knife upon your skin
don't beg that this is the end
Hush small baby
I know you're crying
in the deep of the night your trying
to fix your lonesome life
Hush little baby
don't you cry
put down the sharp gleaming knife
I know you're strong, I know you'll be fine
just survive this one little time
and you'll be successful
you'll be okay
just try a different way
to get your sorrow out of your body
you can write, paint, sing, or try running
hush little child
I love you so
please don't leave me so alone.
To whoever needs a lil happiness in life. there IS hope. Just have to keep your chin up high
Wandering soul Jan 2014
Hush now
Don't say a word
The silence is
too perfect
To break

Hush now
Or you'll see
Me cry
No longer
No longer
My heart
I'll defy

Hush now
Let me just
Hold you tight
And we'll stay there
Till comes the night

Hush now
Let me feel your lips
And you electrifying
My fingertips

Hush now
Don't say a word
Or I'm scared I'll have to go

Hush now
Don't say a word
And feel my heart
It's yours to keep
And I'll keep yours
Safe in my dreams
As I fall asleep
Maha Salman Jan 2015
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't ever fix me
You'll only cut yourself trying to pick up the broken pieces of my soul
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't fill the void inside my heart
You'll only fall in and drown in the emptiness of my heart
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault you can't relight my fire
You'll only make yourself cold, as the cruelty of my breath whispers in your ear
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't wipe my tears away
You'll only sink into the pits of the darkest ocean carrying the anchors which are my tears
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault you can't bear to listen to my memories
The lightest shadows are enough to send your mind swirling into the desperations of madness.
Hush child*
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault I'm made like this.
It's not your fault at all
lost girl Jun 2014
Hush little darling, don't you cry
The more you cry, the more the demons will come by.
Hush little darling, don't say a word
You wouldn't want to be heard.
Hush little darling, don't move an inch
The more you move, the more the demons will make you flinch.
Hush little darling, don't you dare sleep
For once you close your eyes, you're theirs to keep.

(a.d)
I wanted to do this for a while; I like how it came out.
Ben May 2013
The Morning After Part I
What the hell have I done? It feels like my temples are about to explode and the early morning light burns my eyes. My shirt is missing and I’m curled up on my Lovesac. I glance to the left to see Alice is sprawled out on my air mattress. She looks drained, even while asleep, and I think that I probably look a lot worse. Last night… What happened last night? It’s all just a jumble, my memories out of order. It’s a flash of colors, sounds, feelings and sensations, a blur in my mind. It feels like a tilt-a-whirl of sensory overload and I kind of want to puke. Then, like a dam breaking, fragments of memories flood my mind in a sickening torrent, too much, too much. ****. It’s starting to come back and that’s not even remotely helping, just making it worse. I feel even more confused and all I can think is What Happened…?

Ok! Let’s Party!
a three am party a trip edge
a witching hour emprise time to begin
a black and white strip of paper so thin
it looked so harmless, inconspicuous, even then
five hits for me, four hits for you,
placed under our tongues, we expectantly raise
eyes round the dark room for a white rabbits maze
or floating cat ears and Cheshire grin
the seconds pass, then minutes do spin
nothing
nothing
nothing shifts or shapes, bends or breaks
we wander to seats, choose movie to play
Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World comes to life on screen in a blaze
and…

Trip # Cats Everywhere
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4 - !”
cats are crawling slinking stalking
their eyes are glowing growing pulsing
and bodies moving sinuously serpentine
flowing round the corners of my eyes
fleeing from sight like shadowy wraiths
insubstantial  sensory stimulation
hallucination

Trip # ****** Coma
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

ringing blue lightning flashes razor sharp quick
cutting my mind in jaw breaking half
gasping for air I lunge forward hard
and break into silence, stillness, calm.
you have to remember to breathe
when things get fuzzy or funny or anytime now
otherwise sanity slips like water through fingers
or like rabbits down tunnels
on time to lost minds and messy motor control
****** coma, giddy, ecstatic, inescapable, unrelenting

Trip # I’m Melting
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

I have to **** but the whole world is breathing
standing and swaying every step an adventure
entranced by the swirly dripping dropping walls
i barely stay balanced though trousers do fall
relief, ahhh, glance down what the ****!?
maniacal laughter rings through the room
I’m melting I’m melting in big drops and small
being pulled ever downward but never disappearing
warm like candle wax, thick and viscous
I’m leaving a trail of me on the floor

Trip # Music
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

complex strains of sounds by vibrations
subtly influence the mood in the room
emotions experienced changing by song
upbeat pulse lively down tempo drops dangerous
I can feel the sound envelope my soul
Alice enraptured marries the music
sitting on moment to swaying the next
pressed up against me, blink, appears on by wall
(don’t drink and drive, take acid and teleport)
this controlling cacophony swells then settles
an ocean unseen deciding the trip

Trip # Alone
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

Alice embarks on adventure to leave
a trip to the restroom a momentous maze
breathe deep and hold, keep it together
I slip from this plane to a place so strange
the chair is moving and so is her hat
were they ever just objects or always alive
pink and white fur slithers up in answer
caressing my arms sensual depraved
the laughter returns ever occurring involuntary
in fast rolling eyes at madness do gaze
I cavort around with fluffy new friends
tumbling and squirming wiggly worming
the fun never ends the fun never ends
“are you ok?” – Alice inquires
back after minutes turned hours
“is this how it feels to know you’re insane”

Trip # ******
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

the blurry lights shimmer in colorful haze
I swim towards the surface lost in a daze
“hush now hush now you’re ok”
“how long was I out for” a question…a phrase
“ten minutes this time” “it felt like days”
harder to come back, feels like I’m drowning in rain
blood mixes clear with needle in vein
and fading to black and fading to grey
the blurry lights shimmer in colorful haze
I swim towards the surface lost in a daze
“hush now hush now you’re ok”
“how long was I out for” a question…a phrase
“ten minutes this time” “it felt like days”
harder to come back, feels like I’m drowning in rain
blood mixes clear with needle in vein
and fading to black and fading to grey
the blurry lights shimmer in colorful haze
I swim towards the surface lost in a daze
“hush now hush now you’re ok”
“how long was I out for” a question…a phrase
“ten minutes this time” “it felt like days”
harder to come back, feels like I’m drowning in rain
blood mixes clear with needle in vein
and fading to black and fading to grey
“I haven’t slept in eight days”
a half muttered phrase
“what are you saying, it’s been 10 minutes”
alice mouths back with questioning gaze
fade to black

Trip # Telepathic
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...
“mhm yeah like what like yeah what”
“mhm like yeah like what oh what like yeah”
“mhm yeah like what oh **** like what huh oh what”
“mhm yeah like what oh yeah like what mhm ****”
mhm yeah **** like what oh mhm yeah what”
“wait what?”
“****”


Trip # Blue Gum Matrix
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

bubbles bubbles popping in pink
filling my mouth with cotton clouds
sugary sweet deliciously soft
seducing my mind into boiling blue bliss
I don’t notice the binary program lurking through unconscious thought
uploading software for changing perception
the transition to fiction so seamless like silk
I’ve jacked into the system with every chew
it’s twothousandwhatever in metrohive Tokyo
the future is different yet still feels the same
Alice sits solitary in darkened apartment
with wires like web strung throughout the room
all tracing with tracers glowing in ambience a glistening path
to electrical heaven, a desktop computer
my visual sensors are booting and loading
with mechanical perfection clarity arrives
a robot, I robot, created as A.D.E.M.
(Artificially Developed Emotional eMulator)
or A **** Excellent Machine (self-titled)
I sit up and blink as synapses fire
electrical currents carried on nanobig wires
I go move towards alice and watch binary code scroll
plugged into the network a direct hacker helper
this job’s objectives flash ‘fore my face
“we’ve got a big heist, security’s tight”
the scene’s fading out, cameras pan to the night

Trip # In Which I See the Future
“WE ARE *** BOB-OMB 1 2 3 4!”
Haven’t I seen this before?...

Alice and I curl up as one
excessive I know on this excessive night
but excessively is as excessively done, the social norm
it’s experience together and not alone
that draws us closer to breathe in unison
a chance to express feeling in this
uncharted sensory undertaking
together hearts beat in arrhythmic understanding
a feeling of pleasure creeps down my spine
and spreads out in ripples turning to waves
crashing and breaking on the sweet shore of…
alone in the bathroom I reflect on actions
for minutes and hours and finally days
I watch myself age and age and go grey
tormented by thoughts of actions and actions
guilt like creeping mold consumes my visage
decrepit and wasted I stumble from chambers
to find five am clock arms right in my face…

The Morning After Part II**
****.
lysergic acid diethylamide.... an adventure every time
Invocation Apr 2014
Quiet now children
Trailing your ****** rags
The lights must go out
Back to your cells
Back into your minds
Each of you
Retreat into your personal hell and nirvana
Toss and turn
quietly now...
Burn - be reborn
in remembrance of the torture and the pain

We can all be the village
Carry her bones through the streets
Raise her as our own
As though she is alive

The wind whistles into her skin
Gusting through her body
She is not alive
Her muscles mechanically quiver
Trying to bring warmth to the congealed veins

But if she gave up so long ago
Her heart refusing to pump again
Why shouldn't her body sleep too?
Rest my child
Hush, hush.
This one is a bit older.
I found it in my high school notebook.
My writing style has changed a little.
Swetank Modi Sep 2015
Hush, little sister
Please don't cry
I wish I could be there
To sing you a lullaby

I can see your arms
Bloodied and bruised
That's strange, little sister
Mine were like that too

I know you scream
When Daddy's there
Hush, little sister
I know you're scared

I can see the way
He's hurting you
I'm sorry, little sister
He did that to me too

I know that people
Ignore what's going on at home
That makes me angry, little sister
You shouldn't have to be alone

Hey, little sister
You want to know why I'm not there?
It's a sad story, little sister
But people should care

You see, little sister
One day Daddy got high
You were asleep in your crib
So you didn't hear my cry

He screamed at me
And smashed my head against the door
While you slept, little sister
I died on the floor

You know, little sister
I don't think that I would have died
If someone had only bothered
To listen to my cries

But hush, little sister
Daddy's coming home
Quick, get into bed
You don't want him to find you alone

I'm sorry little sister
He's in a bad mood
Run while you can

Uh oh little sister
He's lifting his belt
Scream while you can, little sister
Call for help

Hush little sister
You don't need to cry
No one can hurt you
You're in my arms tonight.
Ian Robinson Feb 2019
Hush up, I hear the howling wind
Wind down, and hear the clock ticking
Tick tock goes the great grandfather
Grandfather says "hush up"

Hush up because the three headed wolves are coming
Coming to steal your soul far away
Away to place no man should stay
Stay against the wall
Walls are our safety net
Nets are butterflies and fish
Fish swim up a river of sorrow and spray, "Hush up"

Hush up, the demons are here
Here to stay through the night
Night scares them inside too
Too many and they all echo, "Hush up"

"Hush up" dies down the wind
Hush, and feel the flush
and crush upon your body
as the air is expelled in
a gushing, rushing torrid of
****** memories.
Damning you to want more,
you want to thrash at the bedclothes
needing to find that release once more.
Yet you lay there spent in the morning's
hush, laid upon the chest of the one that
has made your heart sing, ears ring and
left you corrupted at the core.
The rise and fall of in sync breathing
is the only sound in the room
hush, hush, hush.
© JLB
Hush now my love
Care not of the world
For tonight we'll sleep
Forget all sorrows we keep

Hush now my love
For tomorrow will come
The throes we keep
We will bury deep

Hush now my love
The sun will soon rise
And with it gone our demise
Rest and be at ease in mother's arms

Hush now...
Keep still...
Close your eyes...
And I'll hold you...

'Til the sparks and morning light
And across another world
I'll keep you with me
'Til after this war, be'd both be free

Hush...
A mother singing his son to sleep while being caught in a crossfire.
Victoria Thng Sep 2016
I didn't mean to kiss you
You didn't mean to fall in love
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant for it to mean this much

I wanted to keep you
Forever next to me
You know that I still do
And all I wanted was to believe

When I try to forget you
I just keep on remembering
What we had was so true
Somehow we lost everything

I tried to hide but I still believe
That we were always meant to be
But I could never let you go, no

So go on, live your life
So go on, and say goodbye
So many questions but I don't ask why

Maybe someday but not tonight
Hush hush now

- Avril Lavigne
i own nothing
derelictmemory Jul 2013
Hush baby,
Don't shed a tear,
never worry,
I'll always be here

Hush sweetie,
Don't you cry,
I'm right here,
Always nearby

Hush my darling,
Show me a smile,
the sweetest of dreams you will have
it'll all be worthwhile

Hush baby,
mommy is here
I'll be by your side
even if it's not near

Hush sweetheart,
I won't leave you alone
know that one day
you'll have your own throne

Hush love,
don't let your dreams go
for you never know
how they could grow

Hush my child,
go to sleep
dream sweet dreams
laugh, giggle, smile
happy you will be

I love you.


I SAT on cushioned otter-skin:
My word was law from Ith to Emain,
And shook at Inver Amergin
The hearts of the world-troubling ******,
And drove tumult and war away
From girl and boy and man and beast;
The fields grew fatter day by day,
The wild fowl of the air increased;
And every ancient Ollave said,
While he bent down his fading head.
"He drives away the Northern cold.'
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sat and mused and drank sweet wine;
A herdsman came from inland valleys,
Crying, the pirates drove his swine
To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys.
I called my battle-breaking men
And my loud brazen battle-cars
From rolling vale and rivery glen;
And under the blinking of the stars
Fell on the pirates by the deep,
And hurled them in the gulph of sleep:
These hands won many a torque of gold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
But slowly, as I shouting slew
And trampled in the bubbling mire,
In my most secret spirit grew
A whirling and a wandering fire:
I stood:  keen stars above me shone,
Around me shone keen eyes of men:
I laughed aloud and hurried on
By rocky shore and rushy fen;
I laughed because birds fluttered by,
And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high,
And rushes waved and waters rolled.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
And now I wander in the woods
When summer gluts the golden bees,
Or in autumnal solitudes
Arise the leopard-coloured trees;
Or when along the wintry strands
The cormorants shiver on their rocks;
I wander on, and wave my hands,
And sing, and shake my heavy locks.
The grey wolf knows me; by one ear
I lead along the woodland deer;
The hares run by me growing bold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I came upon a little town
That slumbered in the harvest moon,
And passed a-tiptoe up and down,
Murmuring, to a fitful tune,
How I have followed, night and day,
A tramping of tremendous feet,
And saw where this old tympan lay
Deserted on a doorway seat,
And bore it to the woods with me;
Of some inhuman misery
Our married voices wildly trolled.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sang how, when day's toil is done,
Orchil shakes out her long dark hair
That hides away the dying sun
And sheds faint odours through the air:
When my hand passed from wire to wire
It quenched, with sound like falling dew
The whirling and the wandering fire;
But lift a mournful ulalu,
For the kind wires are torn and still,
And I must wander wood and hill
Through summer's heat and winter's cold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
VS May 2016
The water rushes over me
heart beatin' like a river

Water, water
Rush, rush

And I'm all out of shame
and I've emptied my veins

Father, Father
Hush, hush

Following immersion
spiritual incursion
restoration of sight brought to mind

Water, water
Rush, rush

Wisdom, understanding
knowledge notwithstanding
my very thoughts had gone blind

Father, Father
Hush, hush

Expels the enemy- dastardly dealer
ensconced, encamped

Water, water
Rush, rush

Comes the Helper- unfathomable healer
reborn, revamped

Father, Father
Hush, hush
Zack Phillips Nov 2015
Hush now child, it'll all be fine
I'm right here, right by your side
Here's where I always hope I'll be
Wrapped in arms of a lover who loves me

Hush now darling, it'll be alright
I'm fighting hard with demons of the night
But all for you, and never in vain
I'll fight forever, for I've so much to gain

Hush now baby, I'm here with you
I hope that nothing gets between us two
I hope our love can go on and on
And I'll wake up next to you each and every dawn

Hush now dear, they're coming near
Stay low and wait until till it's clear
I'll signal when we can keep going
Crouch down, leave nothing showing!

Hush now, I'm through with listening
Looking at you, my eyes glistening
You were the last suspect in this crime
And now I realize we never had time
Kerrigan Reyes Apr 2014
Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
Daddys gonna sing you a lullaby
and when the lullabys all said and done
Mommas gonna sing another one
and when that songs done and gone
Daddys gonna buy you a dead mockingbird
And when that mockingbird tries to sing
Daddys gonna  stab it with a blade
Then hes gonna go far far away
And leave you to fend for youself
and youll cry youself to sleep every night
and Mommas gonna **** herself with a knife
Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
not everything is at it seems
and one day its all too much
and you whisper to yourself
"Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
everythings gonna be alright

In another day, in another year, in another life."
Ollllllllllld,as in 4 years old xD
Q Apr 2013
Shhh...
Don't speak
Respect those who are gone

Hush, hush
They weren't weak
For all it's worth they were strong

Don't speak! Don't talk!
This is it
The silence they had

Be quiet.
This day is sacred
For those who died sad

You can be quiet
If only for a day
An act of kindness

We're together in this
Please be quiet
Honor the Day of Silence
For the 2013 Day of Silence in memory of those who have committed suicide.
patty m Oct 2014
My Mother, Salome taught me
to bend, undulate and flatten in the breeze.
to shed the veils of morning mist,

We sway in unison
gentle waves that sigh and whisper
Mesmeric day dreams,
wisps of nature's magic,
we become what you want us to be;

a golden cloud , gentle maidens weaving,
or by moonlight's spill,
a quicksilver sea.

Hot winds carry seed,
the sweat of fevered brows.
travelers on the prairie
heed our siren songs,
as we beckon to them;

hush, hush,
come to us, come to us.

Some find their way home,
others are lost forever.
Yet, they'll never forget,
wild windswept waves
of a land locked sea,
the sound of siren voices in the wind,
or the hypnotic dance and gentle caress
that will leave them forever yearning
for one more kiss from the
women of the grass.

hush, hush
come to us
come to us
Rachael Grace Apr 2015
The door
The floor
Hush
The walls
The windows
Whisper
Muted cries
Muffled shouts
Painting the walls like dust
The words are not for us
It's the lot behind
The door
The floor
Hush
The walls
The windows
whisper
Muted cries
Muffled shouts
I've got no doubts when I hear your voice
"But it's past my curfew" I tell myself
"I've got no choice"
The door
The floor
Hush
The walls
The windows
Whisper
Muted cries
Muffled shouts
I don't know you
Though I feel like I do
The door
The floor
Hush
The walls
The windows
Whisper
Muted cries
Muffled shouts
Night after night
I peek through the curtains
Once the fight ends
I see you walk the length of the fence
Wiping tears only I have seen you cry
The door
The floor
Hush
The walls
The windows
Whisper
Silent sobs
Shattered parts
I wish so badly I could mend your heart
I've never met him but we often hear him and his mom fighting. I can never tell what it's about but I've always imagined he was innocent.

— The End —