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Valsa George Aug 2017
When in dark despair drowned
I was thinking, joy was nowhere around
A gentle breeze from the upland peaks
Came and patted on my cheeks

Softly whispering- ‘joy is here’

When the last ray of hope had been snuffed out
From the vapid plane of my arid heart,
A cluster of orchids, beautiful and ***
Smilingly nodding their heads on my way

Sweetly murmured- ‘joy is here

When I feared the earth was caving in
Under my feet with no chance to win
A butterfly with rainbow colors
Alighting on a bunch of flowers

Euphoniously hummed- ‘joy is here’

When all my yearnings got shattered
And sustenance alone was what mattered
The blazing sun from behind the hills
Wiping away all morbid chills

Affirmed beaming-‘joy is here

When I thought I was drifting afloat
Without any moorings on my boat
A crystal drop precariously balancing
On the serrated edge of a leaf dancing

Confidently chimed-‘joy is here’

When darkness settles on the scene
When life loses all tinge of green
When days seem inert and grey
Don’t be in a hurry to say
“Joy is nowhere around”

Before you jump to conclusions dismal
And write off life as abysmal
Wait to see the cycle of seasons change
From winter’s haze to spring’s lovesome range!
Jerry Vital Aug 2018
The night is vivid, everyone is here.
My head is spinning like a sphere
My eyes are smiling
my lips are moving
With a grin smile, I found myself.

This atmosphere beckons me.
Brimming with thoughts, my mind is phlegmatic.
Body is so static
In an environment that is so dynamic.

As I sat across the room, mesmerized with beaming interactions;
Relinquished of my fear, my mind requires some actions
The adrenaline quicken to my brain, my thoughts convulse
As I begin to speak, my thoughts fainted as a pulse
And my words start to repulse

Trying to utter my words, felt imposible.
Like a stolen voice in a nautilus shell, I stay in silence;
In this fun and frivolous ambience.
I can only watch and listen, because I am inaudible.
Chantell Wild Mar 27
Loud’s a form of silence
That speaks,
Especially when you’re listening.
Mud and blood on your ankles
Stand up keep up
Keep on keeping on
Return to the river, strong,
Like tides on high, striding by
With your head held up to the sky
Yours ears cocked and listening
To the sounds of silence
To the sound of that inaudible sigh
That escapes from under your breath
Vivid demise guides
Me; can anyone hear me?
Why won't you save me?

What numbs me worthless,
The vast veer of intention,
Why won't it take me?

Evolve existence,
Into inaudible cries
For mental relief-
I've been working on long poems, with these stories, I kinda just wanted to make something small, but with a bigger meaning. I hope I did that in this one.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
L B Dec 2016
Is it my priestly duty
to be denied?
love—time and all else, at all cost!
while he went home alone to watch a movie?

Another victim  
having squandered all my pieces in his game?
Trudging home
along the river
slow, in snow
I parse my losses

At the outskirts of a homeless camp
I pause below a viaduct
hauling passion by a leash
warming hands
avoiding hovel-eyes
Flames flicker on our faces
receiving absolution over embers
of a burning embrace

There trace
in glowing holocaust of skids
in human bleatings and crumblings
our smoke rises— pure   obscure
Appease with *****-blur
the icy, stinging God of winter stars...

G’nights inaudible as blessing

Am I derelict enough to be worthy?
Fallen far enough?
from the porches of prosperity?
to escape it all?
That wedding white
the newborn’s head
that numbing denial of decay?

Am I depraved enough to make it?
to the pages of your tragedy— minus poetry?

But the angel said
“The poetry’s more!”

Than leaving me—beyond you the shambles of my words
Osiria Melody Mar 16
I. The Neighbor
Eyes, two immaculate, circular egg-whites
Donning uncanny egg yolks,
Captures a commotion like a camera from afar

II. The Parents
Indecipherable words blurred with alcohol’s embrace
Battered, ****** knuckles striking “I hate you”
against her–helpless
She strikes him back like a match set ablaze
Bird-like screeches pierce the air from the depths of his cruelty

III. The Parents’ Child
Tomato-red ball bounces like a rabbit, gliding across the grainy pavement
Young child, innocent and carefree, bolts toward the ball with thunderous feet
Suddenly, a shock of lightning, blinding like the sun,
Obscures the child's vision (a car)
Ear-splitting burst of impact interrupts the neighborhood
Time took off from the ground, sending the child forward like an airplane, limbs airborne
Not an emergency landing, but an imminent one
Her severed head rolls down the road like a bowling ball
Body splatters across the neighbor's yard, sprinkler watery guts

IV. The Father
His mash potato knuckles, battered, raises into the air as if in protest
A visage ridden with contrition, contorts
Tears stream down his face like missiles (his daughter just died)
An explosion of resentment overcomes him (shock, pure shock)

V. The Mother
She, bloodied by his knuckles
Yelps in determination (she blames her daughter’s death on him)
She slams him with all of her will, ensuring his impending death (he’s a goner for sure)

IV. The Father
Now in supine position, mutters an inaudible “sorry” to his wife with an imploring gaze, asking forgiveness
As she watches him expire, grotesquely smiles (he deserved this)

V. The Mother
Sprinting from the scene, red and blue sirens, whirl and whistle endlessly, audible torture
She loses touch with balance, falling head-first to the selfish ground, forcefully embracing her
Crown splits open like a watermelon, its juicy contents ingratiate
itself onto the neighbor's yard (the grass looks green and red like a watermelon now)

I. The Neighbor
Processing this ghastly ghastly scene, succumbs to Death’s embrace from shock

VI. The Family
A fatal and unforeseen tragedy
Broke the silence in this town of tranquility

I drew my inspiration from witnessing a happy family taking a stroll in a park.
Adrian Jul 2016
My name? I don't have one. I'm an inaudible whisper you're not even sure you heard. As I lay on my bed, sleepless, contemplating the questionable reality of an event that transcends your conceptual understanding. It's there, in the darkness, where you attempt to illuminate my being only to see a reflection of your own egocentric perception. If Altruism was present, surely, nevermore.
Tana Young Feb 2018
doubtlessly swallow the certainty that
i was nothing but necessary foundation
nothing but your essential stabilization
for your cruelly selfish character to devour
i will continue to conduct my silent sorrow
you couldn't even start to comprehend
so obviously unbeknownst to you,
that this, is the heart, that you grew  
and if you ever bother to read this,
it will still be inaudible to you
i condemn my miserable heart
for individualizing this devious,
oh so lonely creature
always looking for feedback
Tana Young Jan 10
My uncertainties I speak aloud
Mysteriously mute
I have even composed it, here! for you!
But it still seems to be inaudible to you
My dreams manifesting into violence
I know I’ve become accustomed to the unnecessary
I have reigned over my thoughts, for years, until you
Tay Jul 2016
It's called anxiety.
Sometimes, I can pay attention to you.
Sometimes, I can't.
Some days are better than other ones.
But the others,
Well, the other ones look a little like trains Going a little too fast for their tracks
Like clocks that break their glass fronts
And cartoon characters with smoke
Coming from their heels when they run
Running faster than the 60 seconds a minute allows
It is my body moving too fast for me to Catch my breath but I'm just sitting at my Desk tapping my pencil and I can feel the Teacher drilling holes into the back of my
I know the God-awful sound is killing her
But it is keeping me from going insane
It is chewing away the insides of my Cheeks
And scratching at my forehead
Looking for answers
But always coming up with hungry hands
It's hearing white noise
And glass shattering
And candles flickering
I know I should not be hearing a candle
But I do
It's just me spinning out of control
I know you've noticed I'm no longer using Punctuation but this is how I always feel
This is how my mind is
It is always racing
My foot swings back and forth like
Poe's Pit and the Pendulum swinging faster and faster towards my chest and it's Always on fire
My hands fumble with puzzle pieces
Because I identify with the one that's
Always missing
It is being lonely in the hands of someone
Who loves me
I feel his calloused hands hollowly like I
Don't have a right to them
It is wanting to scream to the hooded
Figure in the door "I'm scared" but it
Coming out as an inaudible crack in my
I find solace in the cracks between tile
I'm looking at my reflection in black Screens wishing I could just pick myself Up
From the bottom of orange bottles with
Safety-***** lids
A doctor once told me one day I would be
But one day seems to be miles and
Years away
I've shrunk to the size of a stick
My bones jutting out every which way
Paper-thin and too many words to fill the
Hole in my confidence a man once bore Into me
My hands shake when I step into a church
Like I've done something wrong
My mind goes over every event up until
Now wondering why my hands shake and
My chest drops below the floor
Grandmother tells me I will go to hell if I Do not act right and my mother tells me it Is
All in my head
But again a doctor gave me
An orange bottle with thirty tiny white pills And told me one day everything Would be
I just want it to be okay.
My mind is always racing like the way "Normal"
Ones do before taking a test not studied for.
I'm sure you will consider this an episode
Of marked depression, but this monster is Anxiety.
Sometimes I can pay attention to you.
Other times I can't because of this
Corey Mar 2018
You glide across the ground
in your pale white dress;
A sailboat on crystal water
standing tall like opens sails on the vacant sea.
Your body is in full control.
Inaudible music lingers as you raise your arms.
You’re figure pulled taut from your toes up to your fingers.

You glisten, shimmer, ******;
while gliding, sailing, singing.
Your step is in time to a song
that I cannot hear,
and your voice is soothing singing along.
Through the wind, your sun-bathed skin is gleaming.
You give a twirl, skirt swirling like a rose.
One arm out as your finish your rotation.

As you continue dancing,
I thought about my stride.
How could I float the way you do?
I have no music in my ears, my head.
All I can think of is the melody you dance to.
While you hum sweetly, quietly, lyrics I do not know,
I smile discreetly watching the way you glow.
You sway like the ocean.

The way you glide, casually,
your body perpetually in mid-fall.
Chin up, long stride,
like walking back on stage for curtain call.
I reach for your hand and stop you.
The music in your head abruptly pauses.

You turn to look at me,
and I admire your watercolor eyes;

Much like your dance,
which sways in me after it’s stopped,
their greens and blues show me
the furthest depths of the ocean;
Your eyes are far deeper.

I ask,
“Will you teach me how to dance like you?”

You laugh softly,
“I have two left feet.”
Tilda Jul 2018
She was born at 3.41am,
Neon lamps,
And mouth masks,
From a place of great peace,  
To loud,
Shambolic fuss,
Open wounds,
Not immune,
Drugs forming spirals of inaudible sounds,
Drowning and gargling,
Naked and cold,
Turning blue,
Being wrung out,
Mum crying out,
Wanting to feel flesh upon flesh,
Tear upon head,
Hands clasped in prayer,      
Hoping the girl,
Innocent and young,
Was lying cradled in heaven,
By 11.41.
Matt Shade Apr 2018
A man stood up to pass me by,
and heading briskly for the door,
let loose an almost inaudible sigh-
what could he have been sighing for?

Could it have been for all the friends
who never call him anymore?
Or was it in woe of all of the ends
of happy times gone long before?

Or are his motives less self centered,
and he sighs for the human race?
Was he so solemn when he entered,
and did he walk at such a pace?

I wonder just how many sighs
contribute to our atmosphere-
if bottled up, how much it buys,
and does one ever disappear?

Could I have answered to this sigh
and brought a castaway to shore?
Could it have been a silent cry,
or just a sigh and nothing more?
Logan Robertson Jun 2018
She may not have been your prototype teen or hiree.
Or of the masses. Or herd.
However, she did walk into a McDonald's
approach the counter
emit an esoteric exchange for help with the cashier
and with knowing eyes
the cashier directed her to the starting gate.
with application in hand
and blue ribbons in her eyes
she was off to the horse races,
nervousness riding on her shoulders.
In my eyes, she was a longshot to win,
where I could see her shoes falling off
before the race started.
And her imaginary jockey falling off her horse
from laughing so hard,
for she presented herself through the restaurant
and a job interview with a Starbucks frappe,
totally oblivious of her unwrapping.
It would be like turning up for a Yankee's job
in a Red Sox outfit.
Who would do this?
As the rubberneckers, I looked on.
She took her seat at a vacant table
carrying her youth awkward.
Her looks of brown hair, eyes, and raw innocence
But those jeans, high risers, with holes in the knees
with a white Bebe shirt that hugged her shape
shouted trendy but not job interview.
Oh, my.
She continued the procession
extracting info from her phone
and filling out her application.
No doubt with votive candles at her side
and prayers on her lips.
And perhaps blue ribbons awaiting.
After all, this was her foot in the door.
It was at this time
I had an epiphany moment
tears welling in my eyes
as I slipped on hamburger choices
and sipped on past life on a teether,
totally oblivious, too.
It was like looking in the mirror.
Her youth and awkwardness and my growing decadence
towards the light.
When the manager came in and summoned her
to the interview table,
which was located in the dining room,
I saw a little kitten purr inside of her,
where her eyes nervously checked her surroundings.
At first introduction,
the reddening blush on her face and Adam's apple
stood pronounced
but her low voice was choked.
Almost inaudible.
As the manager put her calming hands
into hers
the light turned on
all foreboding escaping.
All misplaces and tense faces replaced with aces.
This was a defining moment for her,
as the golden arches braced her feet,
making all the rubberneckers, me, proud.

Logan Robertson

Amanda Sep 18
it was almost inaudible
the timidity palpable

terrified of the demonic backlash
for her audacity to speak over
the legions of voices
who stripped her of her humanity,
telling her she was already dead
convincing her to finish the job
expecting her to give in any day

it was almost inaudible
the timidity palpable

“excuse me
i’m sorry
excuse me
...i’m still here”

“oh and f*ck you all”
i let the clouds convince me
that the sun had stopped shining,
but what a stupid girl i was...

i am the sun
Debbie Lydon Sep 14
The ooos and ahhs have hunched my mind,
crippling my conception of a world undefined,
Wandering alone will tear the fabric of this frail design,
And crucify me upon a truth to which I am aligned.

There's a nuisance and a laughter waiting there, just in front,
When fear approaches it is made humble by humour's brazen affront.
Oh such honesty can only be existing to amuse or to make my edges blunt,
Turn the tables of their titles, I am neither teacher nor student.

Hallowed ground? not at all, it did regenerate it's soil,
A ground that knew those ancient footsteps knows no more the walker's toil.
From creation's genius clowning I am so ready to recoil,
But I say face the laughing liturgy, recall the joke that roused your turmoil.

A joke that has remained there, at the core of every tear,
It is quiet, almost inaudible, if you will not hush your brain to hear.
Once discovered, like the sun, it strips the night of all it's fear,
And in it's wake there is a smile and a wreckage to revere.
Wai Phyo Win Dec 2018
Desiring mumurations, or solitude
What an absolute
Such a possible, impossible truth
Now beyond the age of youth

With the sounds of the inaudible
Crossing obstacles
The road;  horrible
Can our souls be bondable?

Times passed; not wanting to be regretted
From this sight; don't want to forget
The battle; don't want to conquest
This life; many things to confess

Head in the clouds, my feet on the ground
I hear sounds: your voice, astounds
I doubt I can turn my life around
Life: a merry go round

Just take it slow,
Feeling my head on the pillow
Life takes me round and round like a merry go
Here's to you, cheers, one more go
Austin Sessoms Aug 2018
walking home at something like one o’clock
this man has his belongings
spread across the width of the sidewalk
spilling over into the grass on either side
he’s standing right in the middle of the **** pile

so I get to him as I inevitably would
thankfully protected from conversation
by audio-technica
I sidestep him and his specialty garbage
smiling broadly at inaudible snarling
and shouting I blissfully ignore
for several blocks
until this car’s lights flash
as it passes me on Fremont

a blue smudge floats about my right eye
I blink and the smudge begins again only clearer
again quickly
again again
blink blink
is that a knife?

a spiral of increasingly recognizable knives
swirls about my eye
pivoting with my left
I swing my right foot clockwise
to turn around and pause
my right heel against the pavement
with my toes pointed up

I carefully adjust my headphones
as I gaze intently toward a figure in the distance
he doesn’t feel so distant


I take a couple steps backward
not breaking my gaze
then turn abruptly forward
hastening my pace
I don’t need to run
he’s not that close
just walking quickly, maybe briskly
should be enough to make it home
I don’t know
he won’t follow me
not all the way at least
Luis Valencia Sep 15
I realized
That when the sun sets
My heart beats a little louder

The air flowing through my chest becomes compressed
And the blood running through my veins comes to a halt

The night cues my brain to start thinking
And my heart to stand still
And my feet to stay planted

Trees grow from the ground
And bind me
The words written in their roots
Reflect the inaudible truth of my life

The truth

The truth is I'm tired of living life alone
I'm tired of ruining a moment with my tongue
I'm tired of breathing in stale air
I'm tired of watching life pass me by

I'm tired of not knowing who I am

I'm too tired to figure it out

The truth is
Everything beautiful ceases to exist
When you're too **** tired to see it
Axion Prelude Sep 2018
your silent plight begets silent nights
the inaudible whispers haunt us in daunting hollows
insalubrious fervor beseeches thy name
forlorn and lost among creeping doubt
guilt holding refrain from calling to any such fate

with second guess casts shame on second nature
innate profundity loses meaning with time
but all that's known is all that can be
tangible efforts get lost in the shadow of dissonance

my body resonates with such reeling efficacy
empathy goes unheard but your tone still sings truth
such sweetness lost to empty promise reigns defeat and pain
my silent nights beget silent strife
Caves of compassion are where we are from
Trembling with action we have made it this far
From earth to the stars and back in thousands of arcs
We are made of inaudible music
Silently seeking to become matter
For what really matters most
Is how well you dance to the beat of this pain
That you have lain in for a million millenniums
Are we content to wander on this ***** ground
For round and round are the waves
Which raise up our children
If we wish to see Heaven's mansion
We may need to concentrate
A little less hard

Love entails an obscene softening of our defenses
A narrowing of our vision to only relevant details
Love is our worst fear made manifest
That we are infinitely more vulnerable
Than we could have ever thought possible
Lovers are each other’s suffering
Lovers are each other’s hope
Lovers are each other’s wandering
Lovers are each other’s rope
Might I be a bit too cold-hearted right now,
maybe a bit confused, lost and wandering...
I mean, decadence is definitely not easy,
face after face changes, nothing is still.

Who am I? Who are you?
I don't know and I don't care,
maybe I do, but it's inaudible...

Drifting, falling, drowning, fading,
waning, losing, slipping, laughing...?

I don't make sense,
I mean, I tried, but it all falls apart...

The chaos in my veins,
Rings loud in my ears,
Sinks numb into my brain,
Wrenches my heart with fear.

Too silent, too loud...
There's nothing that I can visualize.
Me? Who I am?
You? Who are you?
Place? To call home? My own??

Who's the one that laughs so near?

2016 was last when  I posted, but not the last when I wrote.
2019 has been a ****** start. Maybe that's why I am back.
Why did I ever leave?
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