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Hannah Marze Jul 2018
I was sitting here listening to the rain,
like a broken record, the same ole same.
My life's on repeat and there's no one to blame
but me.

Innocently, you come walking through the door,
it's an occasional tactic, you've done it before.
Speaking happily that God has so much in store
for me.

Like an old hidden letter you take me back,
reminding me that it hasn't always been that bad.
If there was ever a shining melody lost in my past,
it'd be you.

They say to hold onto the moments that give you joy,
and then there's the way you played that cello, Boy.
The tune in my head that I'll never fully destroy-
it's you.

Thank you.

tinhearts Nov 2018
You come like stealth
An insignificant whisper
Spoken wealth
“I’m hear Lord,” I answer

Truly a hidden word was spoken
In this darkness a light lit Word
My ear caught it like stolen
Whispers in an empty Church

Intimacy of Your Presence
Anticipations rise in nakedness
Your breath touching my inner essence
Humbly phrases string holiness

Listening intensely
Melting my heart with Your Love
Assuring me I’m His innocently
Speak out in the light of

Words spoken in darkness
Proclaim from the hilltops
Obscure sentiments
Treasures to share as tear drops

On pillows of proprietary
In doves beaks on missions
Truth sent from the breath of God’s diary
Assurance purity conditions

Let them know it’s time
Blow the trumpets
Wisdom has spoken in a rhythm
To gather Loves children away from pulpits

Come gather in the flax
Bend your ears to Divine Utterances
Take care not to relax
Words from the beginning substance

Have encircled the past
Returning like the swallows
Messengers swiftly gasp
At the Glory of the Kingdom’s hallow

At last
My Loves deepest souvenir
Michael Mar 3
Ode to The Politically Correct
(the language of modern reality)

I have no name, I have no rank,
I've fought in every war there's been,
At sea, the air, and on the land
With sword, with gun, and hand-to-hand.
I've spilt the blood and I've spilt blood;
Been drunk on **** and tasted fears.
I've roared with laughter and cried tears;
I worship War: Odin, Thor and Tyre,
Ares; Vulcan, God of fire;
Yet I spit on all belief.
And if you've lost then I'm the thief
Who takes, then kills that which you love
To leave you helpless, wretched, keening with despair,
The noise that sounds so sweetly to my ear.

And every time you drape my *****, brutal form
to make your flowery, artful mesh with peaceful words deceiving;
When you try to camouflage my stench with clever, innocently sounding prose;
Why, then my friend, all of violent death because of you
Will writhe, will shriek, will feel its awful pain afresh.
And the brutal torments of our life will never, ever close.
Jen Feb 24
I tried this
Dating site
And what
Did I discover
That love
Is now
Many times
A cover
People aren't
Much anymore
Maybe I'm
Made for
A deeper love
For sure
Experience #1
Met a younger
Man calls me
**** and says
He likes his
Women older
Talks in full
Detail about
How it will be
Then vanishes
Into thin air
Before we
Ever meet
Experience #2
Yes this one
Has a great
Sense of humor
Holds his own
Profile says
"Single" but
When we meet
For coffee for
The first time
He'll need to
Tell me his story
We sit there
In Starbucks
Music blaring
He tells me, his voice low
The truth
He is married
Has a daughter
In another country
And the baggage
Spilled into air
I looked at him
And said now
That's a burden
I can't bare
That fast
Experience #3
Another twenty seven
Year old man
We chat about
For half an hour
He has a warm
Smile and is
Standing in a
Field of flowers
(In his pic)
He asks seemingly
If I'd like to text
We exchange digits
Start to flirt
Before I know it
He says he finished
Before it started
He departed
Never met him
In real life
Never heard
From him again
The more I try online dating, the more I feel I'm becoming a feminist.

We are living in a world where people go on reality tv shows to find love...they think, and some eat it up like hot cakes. The Bachelor for instance...watched it for mindless entertainment. A Harem of women dating the same guy at the same time to see who he will pick and possibly become famous and noticed in the process. The Bachelor is a 25 year old ******...from watching it and seeing how scripted it is, I don't think he is really one.  I know real love exists...
Orangey so tangy loosely
her words flowery so
rustic fun  ******  
the panic straight
jacket going ******
snaps her ticket
Pocketful of sunshine
in your pocket

****** the maestro
In the stars of the cosmos

On the edge but earthly
Let's go slow
Did we miss the
whole entire glow
"So Tickle me Pink"
The stardust funds
of the trust
Having a light fuse
The picturesque
Fields so mystique personality
Lights up unique

Your word against mine
In a matter of fact were in
It's your cue waves pull me in

If so the sky does it remain
always blue such a variety
Of cookies no outrageous
Time for Oreos
What's inside its outside
Cleopatra's eyes snap away
Like a masquerade
Don't rain on my parade
Love of Virginia innocently
Love is the drug

Scrapes on her knees
The western front
****** Snaps
Those bottle caps and buzzing
honey bees Tangerine trees
Galavant like General Lee
****** the gunslinger
She's the singer
eating Saralees

Whats to boot
But getting closer
To the ***** eye
to the surface be wise
"Owl Hoot"
So lovely genuinely
He's husky and ruly
Apps Gingersnaps
Exchanging cat naps

Her lips in higher
states of trips

Trying to get there
Bohemian Rapsody
The Queen of the
Photo editing Unicorn pony
Another brainless wedding
We are the champions
What a snitch like a witch
Bad luck switch the lion's den
Topiary timeless good luck Zen
Loud sirens
Drug trafficker morons
The plastic Surgeons
Backstabber persons

Blue jeans snap taking a
Sniff Shiba Uni howls
To be loved in beauty
My Mom Judy good
earth bounty

Tall and sleek every week
Smells of ******
no danger
The earth on her cheeks
Can love be any truer  
Into the Gala the apple
of her eye never goodbye
Sweet baked goods putting food the way love to the end of her fingertips should let go, ******, snaps
Deb Jones Sep 2017
mom downstairs playing cards
with your family and you
upstairs I slept on the floor of
your nine year old sister's room
waiting for mom to wake me
to go home
i wonder what excuse
you used to come upstairs
i wonder how you acted later
when you went back down
you flipped me over
pulling down my *******
while pulling up my dress
when I tried to scream
you didn't try to spare my breath
pushing my face into the blanket
while forcing yourself into me
I want to thank you
because while
I struggled to breathe
while I was suffocating
the man size pain of you
didn't hurt me as much
did you know did you care
the ramifications of sodomizing
a ten year old little girl
besides the rips and tears in my flesh, besides the blood
that wouldn't stop for weeks
i didn't attend fourth grade
i couldn't go to school
i was in too much pain
i had four operations over the years
to try and fix the damage
of your few minutes of ****
the first when i was ten
a month after that night
you tore through my ******
into my ******
with your man sized *****
And unrelenting pumping
when my groin started to swell
with your poison
I could smell myself
even after a month I couldn't sit
i didn't tell anyone
it was a secret
i only shared with you
but you returned to the army
was i complicit in my own ****
you coward you coward
how did you know i wouldn't tell
why did you choose me
the pain was like something
chewing viciously on me
inside and out
peeing was so painful
i  buried my screaming mouth
in a towel
the infection
was soon in my blood
my dad heard me scream
after my brother innocently
touched my leg
he sent everyone into the house
i stood by his open car door
he made me pull down my pants
another indignity i owe you
he saw the obscene swelling
of my ******* and leg
he didn't ask what happened
he just yelled for my mom
they took me to the hospital
where I was treated like a woman
i guess i was
i heard someone say
traumatic injury
i looked it up
when I was finally released
from the hospital and back home
no one ever asked me your name
no one asked me what happened
in invisible ink you wrote
on my forehead
victim, victim, victim
you tainted me
my brother would have
never touched me
if he didn't believe
i already had ***
the boys would have never
went so far so soon
they sensed I was damaged
the next surgery
was when I was 16
same repairs of the same tears
my mother explaining how i was once hurt there
it was the first time I heard her say those words
but she pretended not to know
what it meant she pretended
Because i pretended too
to spare her feelings
i was twenty-nine
when I had the third surgery
i spoke for myself
not looking at the doctor
because i worked with him at the hospital
still too ashamed to own it
and again just last year when i was diagnosed with ptsd
a diagnosis i won't ever use
i won't wear that mantle
it was my last surgery
i spoke about it openly for the first time. Like it happened to someone else
or came from a book I read
i now take medicine for frequent air bubbles in my bladder
my only reminder of that night.
i thought i was finally done with you

your sister found me today
on facebook 3000 miles away
she wrote
it's over.
and i knew you were dead
i thanked her for letting me know
that was the only words we wrote
i think you must have hurt her too
she was asleep in the bed right above where i slept on the floor
she had to have known when she heard you grunting on that floor or heard me struggling to breathe
why else would she know
to search for me decades later
i finally cried
but for her not for me
i want to thank you

I am the woman I am because of the woman you made me.

I wanted you to know. You may have taken what wasn't yours to take, you may have gloated over the memories you made. You may have gotten away with a crime, I won't even lower myself to think I was the only one. But you're dead now. Not a minute more will I give you. Not a minute more. This is the final thing I will write about you, let it be your epitaph.

You hurt me. You didn't **** me.
Here's another piece of my life. I wrote this about 3 months ago. I never intended to share it with anyone.  But you have all been so generous with your kind comments
Turoa Nov 2018
I hear a whistle blaring
It's a sound like no other
Three tones perfectly out of sync
Terrifying yet familiar
The roar of fire within the belly of some prehistoric metal beast
As the steam screams through rusted pipes
And somewhere between the two
Is the bellow of an unseen engineer
A madman ***** to his furnace
Ripping away at the chord
The sound wakes me from my slumber
All thoughts are gone and for one blissful moment
All that exists is that three toned symphony
I recall a younger boy as trees and shadows flick by the glass
It's unusually cold on board tonight
The little boy shivers as the cold creeps
The window is the only portal
Through which one can see the beauty
Of the night outside
Trees flick by like memories, lost and blended by shadows
I remember the imaginary trees
Whizzing past
And the roar of the wood catching
As the pipe climbing from the stove whistles
It's dark and seeping from the window
Come the creeping fingers of cold gripping at me
The fire is blistering hot, but at my back
All I need to do is turn and the comforting winter embrace
Is always right there waiting
My chubby little fingers aren't hard and calloused yet
The cold dry.. It hurts
And my nose bleeds
It'll be fine
It always is
I was never afraid of a little hurt
It makes boys men
But for now my train is unstoppable
Tearing across an endless track
The colorful carved blocks
Magnets holding the links together
Iron filings
Grit between each faded joint
The segmented spine
Of a wood and metal
Twisting and undulating
Rattling it's little caboose
In anticipation
Of an unknown destination
As it burns through
Stained brown carpet
As the fire casts shadows stretch along the floor
One could imagine
It is a real train
The tracks are real now
It's a real train that tears across them
Like veins of a sleeping giant
Powerless to stop the iron bullets
In succession tearing through him
Those tracks are beneath me now
Cold steel
Cold and heartless
But savagely effective
In conjunction with the hissing pistons
The metal serpent hurdles forward
I can't remember where I was heading
Nor where I boarded
Come to think of it
All lost to that whistle
A cigarette burns steadily
A single ember in this segmented metal tomb
It overpowers my sense of smell and brings a seeming sense of clarity
I remember that little boy had a similar whistle
Or was it a sound he used to make with his mouth
I see a triangular prism
Wood with holes cut into it's three sides
Yes that's the whistle
The sound
The sound of power
The unstoppable rushing onward
Wheels pulse beneath me
Maybe it was gentle once, but now
It's a violent shudder
The metal reverberates every concussive strike
Like the hammer reverberated
Against every felled spike
A younger man laid these rails
A younger man drove these spikes
His hands are worn and calloused now
Blood and sweat flow freely
Salt stings only his indifference
This track is endless and finally as the sun drips low
The peaceful embrace of that ever present dark
Playfully marching across the sky
The cigarette flares with each drag
The comforting reminder that each breath is numbered
These tracks are endless
And were placed by a much younger man remember
But with that last drag
Even this almighty train
Must have a final stop
I make my way along the cars
Empty and cold
But there is a heat in front of me
Steadily building
There is an old familiarity about the sensation
Steady searing heat paralleled
Like this track
The driving inferno forward
That creeping cold at my back
A younger man formed these rails
Put down every length of track
The timber he cut to form the pilings
Spikes driven
By his ****** fists
Rails carried and placed
Like a profane cross
Upon a sinners back
He is tired
Like I am tired
He walks into the sunset
Along the path he carved for himself
The silence is so peaceful
Step after solitary step
He looks out at the beautiful
Masterpiece only he could create
Never mind the soot and dust  
Mixed in sweat  
The stains that cover his aching body
Never mind the staccato drip
The pulse and fatigue ringing through depleted limbs
A steady drip
As his ****** fists
Paint little red drops, like shattering stars
With every click worn boots
On the fresh wood and steel
Every step
Along this path,
Is the solemn advance of a condemned monster,
And on this path,
Every step,
Is the wretched creep of a glistening black god.
I'm tired when I reach the engine room.
Involuntarily I open the door.
Somewhere in a dark room,
A boy innocently plays with his multi-coloured desert viper Coiled deceitfully on the floor.
It's burning,
My lungs grasp hopelessly
At the chance for brisk night air.
One of my hands is chained to the lever
The other to the chord.  
I remember walking in here once,
But I can't remember any more.  
The familiar sound surprises me
As it has every time before.  
A younger man
With the last ash of a cigarette
Stares transfixed
Paralyzed stepping through the door.  
...The sun on his track sets,
Between his rails his feet are sure.  
The trees are quiet and calm.
Peaceful in the darkness
No pistons scream
Or monsters roar.  
..and then..
Is it behind
Or within me
..I hear a whistle.
taylor styles Nov 2018
here i am
all of me is laid out
every inch of me
every curve
every stuttered word
and muffled moan
that escapes my lips
when i’m with you

here i am
waiting to be covered by you
i want everything from you
as long as it’s you
i want to feel that love
the one we share innocently
i want to feel those
i love you’s
the way you give them to me
we both know we mean it
not in love
but we love
and that’s what i’m here for

Karijinbba Feb 27
From childhood i was suroundered by jealousy, malice greed, a competensy
by the haves and the have not.
My parents owned lots of land, built log cabins and had many farms where food was grown!
abundantly by all my family members.
it was a jummy fertil paradise indeed, with all sorts od tree fruits vegetables grown, plus animals raised along with us the beautiful lovimg inquizitive talkative, gifted children, joyfully playing with the rich red clayish earth twin first cousins playing hours building houses tables chairs with the clay all oround us in Michoacan the Sierra Madre mountais that hid our vast land.
We were Perhpetcha tribe.
A native Mestizo mx of Irish French Germanic white raice. Purhupetchas were enemies of the Central American Mexican Aztecs with their sacrificial evil practices of murdering people for their hearts. The lazy ones living in fancy homes nearby, came to my cabin to buy food: corn, beans, chayotes bananas, squash, cherries, green apples and goats sheep chickens, cows milk
but the rich nrighbors the proud Villa owners practically didn't want to pay fair value of wholsome organic best food but got it all almost for free.
I admired their dress code though,  
like Scarlet Oharas dressess,
but we the native farmers were dressed in typical colorful atires like natives did and my family were their own simstressess.
My cousins mother envied my Mom and Mom's beautiful children and often instructed my twin cousin Rosa to try to drown me in the river which she did try twice but I dug my fingers into her mouth till it bled and she stopped obeing to her evil Mom,
whenever my unfut Mom left me all day with my cousins after my father was killed my life was in danger daily by this evil political mad woman married to my beloved hard working unaware blind folded uncle named Manuel.
My uncle was white mid height green hazle eyes and a slanted distinctive charming smile like Elvis Presley's smile to die for.
My uncle was huggin and loving but i was marked for death by his crazy envious evil sadistic wife from the moment my dad died after he was shot and killed she killed my baby brother nine months old and then tried killing me to keep my fathers land I suppose, but psychopaths like her need no excuse. She gave cut glass to my beautiful blue eyed baby brother David in front of me while Mom got busy having more kids in her new marriage.
I got a dose of "three cut glass for dinner so wouldn't be hungry again," and after one year and a half bleeding inside hurting I walked to a catholic city school ten blocks away alone unaware I was dying but aware of the danger in  my own home in Cotija Michoacan. There I asked for help education and work! I was only seven years old. Literally for two years nobody had fed me or cared for me my mothers instincs were cero and void. Mom never even new what really killed her baby son or the reason for my tormenting belly aches that made me twirl in pain and pass out. Well the nuns saved me by a free surgery offered as I was rescued but one nun condemned me to a life of servitud horphanhood abuse all sorts, indeed from one **** to another. The ignorant ****** nun thought i was ***** for the internal hind, not front bleeding and she believed I had cancer, none of which had been happening to me at all. I didn't say anything because no one asked and the evil envious political psychopath aunt had warned me that if i said anything at all she would **** Mom and my little sister Delfina.
So twenty five years later I found all my family and learned my beautiful half brother Antonio (Anthony) at age seven had also died bleeding and throwing up green stuff like i was, probably forced to eating cut glass after evil aunt hated baby sitting or feeding him as my unfit mother neglected him leaving hm in her care.
I told my sister the truth but she never believed it nor my sufferings, truth being darker then lies! I wished I had never looked or found anyone of them.
My "sleep walking" ignorant family so apathetic towards my life of torment loss betrayal and sadomy.
Before my dad was shot and killed for our land by the Federal government thiefing all that was ours, the poisonous snake that bit my leg just above my right ancle as my dad and uncle saved me when II was five was ideed the most benebolent of my lifetime attackers, it didn't plan it all like my enemies did!.
Living with the nun was agonizing; fainting spells hypoglycemia, anemia hunger and over working it was a daily chore reserved for orphaned ones.  I survived worst then Cinderella, by eating splattered zapote droppings from trees and mangos. My life similar to sleeping beauty with the poisoned apple mine being cut glass for dinner as candy.
Indeed the enemy hid right in my own home!.
The devil wouldn't have been so cruel as this sadistic cruel woman not worth being called aunt.
Something is wrong with some human breeds indeed, But I blame my unaware bad Mom and uncle for not perceiving the danger an innocent child was with Roselias twisted personality. Her greed malice envy all unjustified undeserved unprovoqued!!.
I adored my father he fed me cared for me to the point my mother resented it. I was not at all like this evil dark snakes in my paradise I was all light bubbly loving caring with everyone and better with my chldren, whom I loved for them to be loved by everyone more then anyone rather loving me,
I was a feroseously protective Mother nobody would ever hurt my any of my children.
Sometimes I feel that among my deadly enemies through my life the most benebolent of my attackers was the coiled poisonous snake that bit me when i innocently aproached it to curiously inspect its abode.

Indeed the enemy hid at home with me so make sure you are awake in the spirit imparting justice protecting and loving the little ones above all.
Its our childhood experiences that mold us to trust the world we see and people we deal with as a place worthy to have lived in it or not.I admit few times i wished i was never born that I was speared for greatness a star seed like the Mayan calendar writes, born to forfit all treasures as i walked through life in denial hiding the **** truth. But I am fine now star seeding awareness be careful who we trust even our cradle home can hide deadly snakes disguized as a family member.
By Karijinbba
Excerpt from my memoir.
All rights reserved.
twistedBeware of covert enemies.
However an unexamined life is not worth living but worse.My enemy was always in home. But i had more lives then a cat.
Michael Mar 13
Rest in Country

We'd just lobbed into Vungers from the Dat on R & C,
Innocently strolling was **** Knight and me,
Across the Flags to the Some-Such Bar wherein the girls drank 'tea'.

And I can still see Max beside me striding to the Some-Such Bar,
With the baby-sans about him going just that bit too far,
With their practiced tugs and pleadings going just that bit too far.

And of course among the baby-sans the cowboys moved in too,
Which didn't worry me too much my cash was in my shoe,
But Max was Max and in those days, not like me and you.

‘Watch your wallet, mate,’ says I, ‘in case it comes to harm.’
‘No fear of that’ says mighty Max with patriotic charm,
Then he tucked a cowboy baby-san beneath one brawny arm.

Well! 'You silly ****** put him down’ but Max went like a rocket;
'I'm off to find the White Mice 'cos this *******'s picked me pocket.’
And I groaned aloud because I knew that me and him would cop it.

Sure enough, there gathered round an angry, shouting throng,
In Asia you don't maltreat kids, no matter right or wrong;
Believe you me our lives that day depended on that throng.

And I got hit with an iron bar (the hat protected my head),
Whilst Max had a pistol ****** into his belly and really should be dead,
And across the Flags M.P's I saw, turned white in craven dread.

Australians too, those coppers but no good to Max and me;
The gutless ******* turned about just so they might not see
The riot raging fiercely now about my mate and me.

I'd say forty upright citizens we met that Vung Tau day.
Policemen, soldiers, rascals, all with us two in affray;
Those Aussie ******, save our lives? They'd turned themselves away.

Thank Christ the mob stayed leaderless, our riot's end surprise;
And the cowardly action of those two? 'twas blessing in disguise,
For a Yankee Jeep barged through the mob and drawled 'in here, you guys'.

It barged back out then drove full speed to the end of R&C
Where the Major spoke severely to **** Knight and me.
While quietly back at the Some-Such Bar the girls sat drinking tea.

This is doggerel, of course, but it is also a description of what happened to me and a digger from my section.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
He sees angels in paintings or at right angles;
the flames ascending towards the mountain,
the brute energy consumed by arrows of cognition
of the image of the wounds at all of the LORD
confused by the letters the mouth of the errors
of the Beats; he finally got off to receive a letter
from the waves, I will say to the woods a child
for school breakfast, dinner had once been
at the head of the day to his labor in the situation
not quickly broken, in spite of the crowd it's sunny day,
a cigarette is too hard for the depth of the Father
is not empty colored, stained royal serious, serious
flowing pure rage mistake provides the plots
are multiplied by hanging strength of the depths
of depression achieve a sacred pledge to understand
the number of flight problems cheat wake up consumer
crazy, drowning upset problems false fail reliable
honey was struck to respond to the country of the lover
and his fingers hit in that they're the toes of the hired
of the honor paid to give expression to the expectation
of the things he tells of the killing of her sister,
a weapon against is in my heart,
that you would walk around the horizontal line
will be perpendicular to the horizontal line parallel
to the horizontal line CA cracks her burnt on fire,
to hang on and everything was done
in the wisdom pertaining to the feet may
be killing the dead drops can be with Rose's holes
in the offer of protection to the empty space
of six faithful in the power of understanding
the uses of wood in language news agency
images of the core; tortured on the rough road
beverage voice filled with pain, brightness
of foreign children will jump in bold weeks,
one hundred kisses and there is insanity
in the early autumn spinal fantasy laughing
totally overwhelmed periodically by eels
and a second shaped rhythms fades to silly
to build the integrity of the company shade
of orange wrong end of a dip to explain
the mystery of the ancient forest rich in waste
and cat time-travel market relationship
with the names chosen: the old men's silent
observance of the laws of Jesus, my salvation
must fall after driving back the begging
of the question to defend unto the men,
that I may look at the hungry soul with a curse:
for your curse is, he heaped upon the strength
of his at once to dance, from the midst
of the color of 7 stored away, with their faces to the uttermost
part of the sea,
the heap of happy,          one should think that the cause of those who believe
clad in fine linen,                                              that send forth the way of life,
and of purple,     and of the doctrine of the the move
to the internet looking for the kind of offer
that is perfect in this life,         and they are invisible,
teaching the normal heat captured from government
forces to admit, wearing a pleasure, therefore,
I know that perfection is an awareness
of it to do with the book of Ops guide
a deep faith in the refuse of the wonders
of the fish from the [             ] and the things that were taken;
the more prudent one we know, in the field,
do you want the courage to make the going down
of the sun has been obscured by the light of the moon,
surrounded by the natural heaven of the fame
of the speed of the disaster, the destruction
of showing the roots of the daughter of the mortar,
he took away the stones, remembering the salt
that they are in in the infinite is not Saturn,
the very hairs of are can be applied to the transfer
of sensitiveness to express ideas easily
swallowing the garbage the operator called
The light blade attachment content fought
completion rate brush harms quiet understanding
of the stream finally worth desperation's bloom ||
to deny particular kind of way
of sparking a relationship scene;
interesting showing bound focus
shouting simple chair Indian
Med wishes to induced spoke
     fight showing the weather
echoes of butterflies & 80 monsters out
of a cake *****;
it grieved him to serious |performance
drop with the fat of the immense work
                                        of childhood,
they are akin to friendship,                       and others;
the rays of the shall be twenty,                    sat down,
wandering, had been sent to Wikisource
From the photography of conjecture
about the victory of the thin, enters goodbye,
asking for it, blessed are the |pure in heart:
and the cry of every man's part of the usurper,
and then they came with the clouds,
and we shall rise again, again,
12 in front of all the other things
  they question about
     in the night,
and the noise of a mall that dieth in the online
and it tore, is the faithful and the kitchen pulls
out of the man
alive, and will direct thy way;
                                                  and, therefore,
                                                         the livery |
will be the darkness of death in the background
of the clients targeted |||
by Haggai the prophet's consumer cash
| hand movements suppose to be funny
beast is playing 8 9 11 a feline nightmare
as they join pleasant sins rippled by self
We sang, || the wanderer of the hill
to the assistance of the church in memory
of the judge to go through the judgment
of the two seas;      Seeing angels painted
innocently amid kingly flames fight
insanity's energy by reading mountain
burned completely shot image knowledge
rings out wounded, definitely confusion
letter bones errors beats finally
left decided roller derby en birth letters
survive wave explain forestry work youth
cup dinner dinner intimate heads one day
work feed stops breaks despite society's sunny day
hard, higher, dad's empty cigarette pack, finger
stained, rising gravy train flowing sincere error
of rage providing plans to move to Io to grow
hanging depths of depression forces reaching
safety Holy understanding below the number
of cheating flight problems waking up to sunlight's
pain crazy talkative upsetting problems
false-fail trusted ||From the photo of speculation
about the victory of the finessed fades goodbye,
asking for it, blessed is the pure heart:
and the cry of every man to play the part
of Usurper and then they came with the clouds
and we will again rise 12 ahead of all
the other things of the question of the night
and the noise of a commercial center that dies
in online conversations, and broken, is loyal,
and the kitchen pulls out of man alive,
and directs your way and hence the painting
will be the darkness of death to the depth
of customers targeted by Haggai the prophet
J consumer cash in hand; moves
let's assume,
it is a funny beast playing 89.11 e-filing
is a nightmare as they unite a pleasant sin
rippled by ourselves;  We were singing, wandering ...
Mish Nov 2018
I sit to write a poem of you
Yet today such an undertaking seems pointless
Seems beyond words
For here you are warm and true and broken with pain most days yet still able to make me laugh
Here you are with strength enough to bandage me between your arms and whisper ‘don’t fret…it will be OK’
Murmured with such loving conviction that I believe you
You tell me ‘One heart…you and me…one heart’ and I fall innocently into an aged sleep and wake again to the unplumbed sparkle of your eyes and the realization that my heart does not hurt anymore
Here you are the brimming evidence of simple human kindness
Here you are the poem beyond words

(mish 2017)
Molly Feb 14
"have you lost weight?"

i never know how to give an honest answer regarding this innocently loaded question. most days i feel weightless, floating through the motions.

i've been socially conditioned to take the question as a compliment, but my past eating disturbances only trigger sheer panic, inciting vehement rejections.

maybe i've physically lost weight because food tastes different after your departure. mentally, the weight of your memories bears down on me.

sometimes i feel like atlas; the weight of reality is soul crushing. i feel like i take up too much space: in your office, in your time, and definitely in your inbox, but never in your mind.

i've been starved of your presence for too long, and i'm growing dizzy and weak.

a lot of the time i just don't feel like putting effort into mere existence. i have trouble closing filing cabinets in my brain until i spew out the trivial information that's cluttering my head.

i'm hoping to purge you from my thoughts by this continuous writing of confessionals i'll never send, and maybe i'll finally be weightless.

— The End —