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What do you know about me?
A girl with a glasses and long brown hair
A girl who laughs so much with her ridiculous voice
A girl who is a nerd
Who is shy
Who is sensitive
A girl who needs to be known

Do you know when I feel alone I watch the stars at 4am?
And I give names to them so they don’t feel alone like me
Do you know that I don’t cut my hair because they keep the memories of my life?
Do you know that I cry every time when I see that Chinese movie?
Do you know that I am touchy enough to cry to the smallest details?
No, you don’t
You don’t know my tears
You don’t know my fears

You don’t know, but I am afraid a lot of things in my life
I’m afraid of staying in the confined space
I’m afraid of singing in the people
I’m afraid of running in the rain
Because of fall
I’m afraid of falling into place
I’m afraid of falling in love
I’m afraid of showing my feelings
I’m afraid of stepping forward
Because of mock
I’m afraid of screaming to the people
I’m afraid of breaking their hearts
I’m afraid of talking too much
Because of being involuntarily rude

But behind this coward girl
I am a warrior
I am a fighter
I am a survivor
For my dreams
I revolted against the people
When I wanted to go another town
For my dreams’ school
They said
You cannot go because you are a girl
Because you are shy
You cannot live without your mom
You cannot handle all the difficulties

You don’t see how strong this girl
Do you?
Do you see the warrior, the fighter, the survivor behind those eyes?

A girl sees the cruel world
With her glasses and
A girl remembers her past
With her long brown hair
A girl forgets her sadness
By laughing with her lovely voice
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Immorally, my lustful gaze eyes in a false bid to need you
Unappeased from the respites of my attempts to dream you
And in my efforts, I’ve still yet to ascertain my conviction to find you
But until then, an entire sense devoted to imagination to taste you
However, taste is a mean fraction of my malicious, intent to use you
And in a blinded craving, good intentions eluded, will involuntarily scar you
In a perverted aim to behold and savor you, to protect, enjoy and *******
Is the beginning of my undoing, as I callously sin again and again, and break you

And then with no further defense but to erase you,
and politely in my heart, I move bitterly to bury you,
I return fruitlessly to the beginning again, to need you.

© 2014
grace Aug 2017
today i kept thinking i saw you,
with your ***** blond hair and
awkward smile
your self confident stride
and sense of style

my heart jumped each time
at the mere idea of your presence,
as my body has yet to unlearn
its reaction to you

every time i see you
you never flinch or even glance my way
you walk closer
and then suddenly
it's not
you

my eyes flit down
i realise i was staring
my mouth involuntarily makes
a small disappointed 'o'
i realise i was holding my breath

but the very next second
my eyes flick back
and imagine your presence all over
again

no matter how far away you are,
miles, hours or oceans away
im still determined to find
you in every crowd
God's Oracle Aug 2021
As I navigate thru the hurls of Life my mind gravitates towards the seductive temptations that linger in the subconscious mindset that I have attained via constant repetitive behaviors that scar me beyond my control and understanding. I hold onto my faith and my sublime thought patterns that perturb my inner soul. Unknowingly recollections of subjected torture and sorrow that I am involuntarily accustomed to...I recite a prayer to my Holy Lord that he remove this impending feeling of agitation and aggravation towards how my mind works and self sabotages it's sober state of being. Maladapted and a Degenerate ******* I am because I do NOT have the strength nor courage to remain in constant contact with my inner self to be able to control my impulses to use Narcotics. Truly, I have finally realized am powerless and deathly spiritually sick with endless intrusive thoughts of ******* on a suicide mission alleviating the symptoms by succumbing to escaping reality thru the Narcotic Amplification slowly self destructing by the utilization of this ******* substances that keep me trapped chained and imprisoned within my body's constantly nagging me to continue to use the drugs to escape my feelings, thoughts and emotions...am left exhausted and incompetent to deal with Life's struggles and circumstances. Without doubt I know I need to learn to retain my sobriety NO MATTER THE COST. I cannot allow myself to continue to indulge in this illegal substances to temporarily make me feel better make me feel special make me feel extremely desensitized from my current problems I cannot afford to keep running like a ******* coward I must learn to face Life on Life terms...maintain my impulses under control retain my spiritual growth and keep grinding towards keeping my commitment to myself to NOT use anymore because it's slowly making me evil more devilish more violent more sinful and in the end it's just killing me to know I am not practicing self care nor loving myself enough to NOT practice this erroneous behavior that it's making me hate myself more and more daily because it's total insanity to continue to contribute to slowly **** myself due to the fact am literally paying for death every time I use drugs to deal with Life. A decade of this **** **** am so done with it... please Holy God take this punishment away from your Son who without fail believes in you loves you and has unfailing faith that does NOT shake because I rely on Christ to keep me alive and well. Enough of this madness I have walked thru enough darkness to know that am literally losing my willpower to maintain my health, happiness, comfort, belief, faith and livelihood. God I pray thee you relieve my destructive addiction and relieve my painful past allow me to LET IT GO...I know I will continue to fight this enormous disease with a strong composure and continue to sanctify my temple slowly but surely...God May You Walk With Me Thru This Journey Now & Till My Death. Amen!!!
A decade of addiction.
Hannah Jul 2014
My anxiety is
the beast within me
living in my brain
using its claws to manipulate my neurons

Its black, furry face
fills with a wide, Grinchy smile
as it causes me to avoid yet another opportunity
that could help me recover

When I start to feel calm and hopeful
It snarls, spittle flying from its mouth
and bares its sharp teeth
determined to make me fail again

I can’t **** this beast
It is me and I am it
So I have to keep it alive
Involuntarily
Daan Mar 2016
You deserve your eyes less red,
a young gentleman to wed.
I cannot give solutions, at least
not intended ones.

I want your eyes to dry, lie
with you as we sleep, as we seep
away.

You trust my every word, involuntarily,
even though you have more to say.

As we stare once more, at last, for one last time,
we know,
when grateful, our eyes are most sublime.
We end here
while all else continues.
shik-gu
the word and idea had the
power to make me tense involuntarily.
it's strange how we hurt the people
we love the most.  

for a long time, i lived my life like a tornado,
not caring who i hurt.  often the people in my
path of destruction were my um-ma, ap-pa and
hyung [momma, pa, and brother].

time heals all wounds or it can make deep resentments
fester.  i'm glad i've chosen to walk the path of cleaning
up the wreckage of the past.  

today, my family still aggravates, but see them for who they
are, people with their failings and strengths like me.  
and little by little, i walk the path towards embracing
my own humanity, my brokenness and all.
Joseph Valle Sep 2012
Amid wind and thunder, a coming storm,
a September coat rests silently upon my shoulders.
Leaves descend from the bending giants above me,
and still I sit here.

A flurry of passenger-filled cars sets the park spinning underneath me.
These people, they'll all be arriving somewhere soon, but, for now,
they flood my consciousness with homes decorated in aged photographs,
and still I sit here.

They're going there, those places that fill them whole,
with those people that lovingly adorn their company.
Though I don't accept it, I have people like that too,
and still I sit here.

My mind meanders the gravel path to a duck effortlessly afloat on the pond.
Doesn't she have somewhere to fly to too? To South? To warmth?
Maybe she enjoys the safety of my company, and so she contemplates herself,
and still I sit here.

Her wings involuntarily flutter from the assaulting gusts, until,
finally, she gives in. Her wings spread and beat against the water below her,
she's off toward clearer skies, not a thought on her mind, who could blame her,
and still I sit here.

As the sky opens up, drops and drenching, a chill sets inside me
starting with the ears and the fingers and the toes.
It creeps up my arms and legs, it violently spikes my brain
and still I sit here.

We all know where it finally stabs. Yes, you know it,
you've experienced it before. I howl uncontrollably in chorus with the breeze.
There's not a soul around, just the singing towers rooted around me,
and still I sit here.

At home my dinner awaits, it's steaming hot, it begs to be eaten,
but all this sutured heart can do is think about is that **** bird.
I should be going now, it's time to leave that soaked bench,
and still I sit here.
Rochelle R Jan 2015
She's a thousand miles from where she needs to be,
With a hundred and seven things to do.
And the only things she manages are
"Wince, breath, hold it in, and turn blue."
Exhaling,
She turns to see a path carved of her own destruction

In her wake.

Unaware of how she got here, and now:
Her heart is torn in two.
You think it's wether it's him or wether it's you.
But it's wether it's to sleep forever or stay 'til forever gives up on her.
Involuntarily,
She stumbles on the trail of bodies

In her wake.

It's months or maybe millennia later,
Time has no compassion here.
Her immortal face is as unwavering as stone.
But the scars she's counted have undoubtably grown.
Her bones hide secrets the whole world knows.
And though she'll burn from the heat of the stones they throw.
Everything is still drowning amongst waves

In her wake.

But she knows how to make time and all of everything stand still.
She can ease the world of her venomous touch.
With a single bolt of lead and palm full of small white relief,
At last,
All of us can be put out of her misery.
Only the obligatory tears will fall
When the guest books from her history spill from the celebratory halls

At  *her wake.
If only that was the end!
But this is where it all begins (again).
As her bones turn to ash and summer to autumn,
A single drop of blood ignites a light.
A new dawn has begun.
And now there is only a bare foot print molded in the mud from her ascent.
With the only premeditated thought she's ever had,
This time there will only be ghosts left

*In her wake.*
jrunje Dec 2015
it's 7:24pm and i catch a glimpse of the first star.
involuntarily, i close my eyes.
i know what i'm going to wish for.

it's 11:11 at night and my alarm goes off.
a reminder i set for myself so that i can
once again
dedicate my 11:11 wishes to you.

it's 2am and i still haven't caught a wink of sleep.
i missed the "are you up?" text
two years ago
and i haven't gone to bed before 2am since.
this is how it goes down every night.


you taught me the importance of numbers
but you're too abstract a concept for me to comprehend.
it's always been you.
Dara Brown Feb 2016
there's a memory of you
that lives
& breathes within me
like a good drug
it flows
through my veins

i remember you,
warm & brown
& how your supple lips
invited me to dine
every night
until about a quarter past 3

you my beloved
filled my summer nights
& days
to such an extent
that i still quiver
involuntarily

i remember

your lips
were the kind meant
for kissing
always
slightly parted
& beckoning a kiss
i wished i could
try out on myself
first
just to see
if it was good enough
for you

i remember you
artful dodger

do you remember me?
Amanda Stoddard Apr 2014
my blood boils over the edge as every word
that spills from your lips is volcanic ash piercing my skin
and how is one supposed to stay calm
when my life has been spent bottling up
way more than I can hold,
this routine is getting old.
I can't take the constant trembling of my upper lip
and quivering of my limbs
I'm not too sure how long I can hold this in.
I take two steps back and inhale deep
but it's still not enough to help me
rid of these demons that won't let me sleep.
Every ******* waking moment
is spent fighting a war I didn't sign up for.
I was involuntarily shipped out
to surroundings unknown and places unseen
in my mind is only chaos and blatant disorder.
So **** the fact I can't think clear enough
to jot down the words exploding from my mind,
but I have a right to explode...
I have kept my cool for far too long.
My mental stability will be revolutionized,
I have the right to do so.
Bb Maria Klara Nov 2015
I sat there and saw you at the dinner table.
To speak up, I couldn't. To get up, wasn't able.
But now if I tell you, it's not like you would listen...
Right now it is hell, not our usual heaven.

But you won't understand, even if I tried,
Even if my eyes dried from the hours I've cried.
I hoped that you would have been instead so gentle,
But now I feel broken, into pieces unsimple.

But I'll take the heat, from your offense so brash...
'Til burns can't be cooled by my tears and a splash;
And I do not know if you'll ever understand.
To be safe, I'll just do whatever you command.

Just like how I sat there, involuntarily froze.
I'll take my place with you, forget what I know;
Just like how I took it to myself not to cry,
I'd rather live with you than I'd want to die.

I'll take the nights tossing and turning in sheets,
Accepting my losses and suffering defeat.
I'll no longer move the way I used to...
I'll paralyze myself, like that night, for you.

Except this time it won't be fear or surprise,
It will be the product of too much from my eyes.
I'll choose to be with you, just how you like it.
Til death do us part, in the heartaches of it.
It's never too early or late to walk away from a potential life sentence.
Lytrell Howard Mar 2015
PASSIONATE DREAMS


                As I lay back in the deep darkness, my thoughts of you appear realistic.  My arms embrace you tightly and I take my first taste of your lips.  Your beauty, even in the dark, amazes me and lightens the room.  I squeeze you tighter and bring you a little closer.  Undress you slowly, as you relax yet you are very excited.  I kiss you on each part that is exposed, in time you’ll be covered with love juices.  You undress me with an excited yet patient way.  I look into your eyes and lose myself in your beauty.  You softly lay on your back, the bed lowers as I lay beside you.  I kiss you on the cheek as you roll on top of me.  Feelings from inside me causes me to rise physically without thought.  You place me inside your love; as I start to massage your insides.  As your body moves up and down on my body, I come closer to ecstasy.  You get off me and then lay your head on my pillow.  But there’s no reason to rush, so I start from your feet.  Move up to your waist and I begin to tongue kiss you softly.  Involuntarily, you let loose a stream to show all of your approval.  Slowly, I approach your ******* and your ******* become *****.  Your body screams, as I fulfill your wildest fantasy.  I calm your nerves, yet your body still squirms.  Eager to receive more pleasure, my back arches in a muscular way.  Thrusting myself into your spot of happiness, giving you 100% of me.  For hours, we repeat this procedure and finally we both ******.  As you and I rest on our backs, we just talk and relax.  And then awake, happy, but yet I’m still depressed because only I can love you privately.  My thoughts of you lasts forever.  Whenever I see you, I stare in a daze amazed because of your beauty.  I just want to embrace you tightly and turn this nightly dream into reality.
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 slave 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
Endless
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
Vicariously
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
Everything
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
Hammered
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.
..Still..
Peaceful in the darkness
No pistons scream
Or monsters roar.  
..and then..
Is it behind
Or within me
..I hear a whistle.
Prelude  PART I


"Today when the threat is looming, as close apocalyptic years approach, it will be by cohabiting itself and the ruining valley of debris, which will make this world corrupted the next issue of the numeral scale of the new count, a rising hyperspace , concerning the parts of the kingdom of God ... "

Then on the Lord's day, John saw the glory of the risen Christ, and she understood from the point of view of God, he saw that the fate of the Church and threatened in the first persecutions took the appearance of a dark beginning.
And the time John wrote the Evangelist, including books were Jews called Revelation, that is, "Revelations". With fantastic images of monsters, angels and cataclysms, evidence of the Jewish people are stressed and are invited to await the judgment of God who intervenes from heaven with all his power.  So my beloved world is harsh and does not represent an apocalypse, but it is the true reality is when I will bear its overwhelming slaughter.

" Today when I walked with my winged feet near my friend Victor, I confided down the road crushed by afflictive legs; how difficult the taste of laughter when the decadent surrounds you, the human, the vile, the loose ...
Even though the celestial charisma invoke his memory and help nourish the weakness of Robert in hyperspace, with clean clothes, I can see his beloved mother consumed as automaton can take care of him. She is also her father, because it carries rooted in its members and manners, infinitely sharp look; in their arms they will gather wherever his soul is under his patronage that lives there ..."
I am  who  say that Roberto is a dog, who bears all the faces of dogs humble and serene. Perhaps tired of hearing young people, it is flush adults who do not accept, and who do not share as young faces were watching them, getting them to receive them what they should disclose them.
This is how we are numbed and distraction is fleeting, and he looking aside in his astrayed, he would be saying ...:
"Among the cradle and the grave I have a feeble scaffolding, and then complains, though his other I demolishes; unsconcient defends his executioner ... that the threat of death is its widespread depravity, which dominates it and want to go on like mortifiying.

      I want to talk about life ..., he said in his short years of life, which is more of it; possibly coming to complex, what our Somatic territory responds in normal or involuntarily. Comparative anatomy, and its innermost portion, the link body and mind, as a pure white as Samadhis and nature.
Homeostatic factors regulating our vitality, making its experimental modification, increasing to evolution, or maturation as a criterion of personal psychology go with the passage of time into in the depths of our mind.
Thus in a known threshold of Vedic architecture, its sensitivity is excited by regulating the effectiveness of the response to be made ... and everything related to the world of Ludwig Garroch; brother Robert in his strange Emigrate.
Yesterday when my arms away from hers, my fingers pounding away and recording what the heart more than a song, was a symphony sonata with a single end, long and sustained movement; It was the adage inner melancholy with an eye romanticism, which dominates the
passions of the visible world, which inhabits Antonieta, causing me, unbalanced living.


                                       CHAPTER I


In the beginning years of his childhood, little Ludwig sitting at home, in the gallery. Ask her aunt who was ironing ... Madelain, how I would always be a child of five ...?, And being as such, a privileged to receive toys for many years. Attentive aunt, maybe go to hear with little complacency as his hands only want unroll clothes.
After two years at the age of seven, when her aunt arranging his coat to go to Mass, she teaches a carol that had been taught in childhood. When many wondered whether there is a Santa Claus ...?, And among his friends they looked to unravel the mystery. One year later, when he enjoyed his unicycle, who just dominated him, called him a cousin telling her it was her birthday. He did not hesitate to go to find out what was behind the call, so he found the means by which we celebrate, we live and cooperate towards happiness and delight to have us at each other.
Not long after a friend told him .. "You do not have ten years are too big And Ludwig thought he was well endowed and well stopped, so not your friend was wrong in the above. It is my label and my stance has put the world on me.
Every passing day came the stamp of manly character, a woman or girl who made change her hairstyle, and he did dress more attractive every day.
Later, in his teens, his gaze was well received and their voices radiated security screening. Where He must continue the line of men. Even when I was living as smoothly, looks out strong destination with which calls us to live with skin clean or *****, because it is inside the feeling and the pain does not come out, it is enclosed by the overflowing affection. Here is the portion of good or evil haunting things casual and destroys the healthy, it fertile.

                                        
              ­                           CHAPTER II


Then was a year with a sports compensate pleasant summer sated outdoors, almost fugitive ... will not wonder that life smiled on him serfdom, and very willing opened his prudence.
Every time I decided to go to his favorite places, he went with his burly comrades in the best mood to conquer optimistically. Thus, no wonder he wanted when he was alone and put your reasoning judiciously, because nothing is distant, nothing is impossible.

After unite desires and forces, to clean your bike, piece by piece, in full sun know much security would not allow the mother of vices ruin their fun, that scarce alive to possess the desire to move and go on compliance instinct. Casts on itself, the vigor of the inner, its desolate world full of free enthusiasms who obey no doubt the vital complex activity.
Ludwig and entering the maelstrom of men love hate Godson, you can glimpse the friction with the air, with people ... I wore. That their voices heard their soul contracts, and thus puts light feet towards an acceleration which does not afflict his troubled stomach, nor regret his decision and put fearful, but, bring himself retained encouragement of his mind to remember the maternal cooing, comfort and timely relief to protect forever the suffering, the suffering of torment without end, not he shut the inspiration of the good man that no harm will result, and not for nothing the valence of living and not quarrel prancing. No existing could shed some light on what role, and that little thought is not complicated, and thus shown kneeling and unable to distressing oppressors and agents tangled conduct to chaos, those characters of ambition and discrimination.
Ludwig, who lives in the Ecologist City, where large forest ... budded, is home jungle floral site, whose relations are flowers, trees ..., next to Strange birds migrate flower in her intra nature reproduced, and pods evacuated by butterflies.
His close friend, is the watery and salty sea, which is beloved because he falls in love, puts on alert and curses him by his surroundings and invoking him. Anyway, it dwells wherever it is, and is accepted as a basic element of the universe.

                                    
                                         CHAPTER III

The act of tender love would be fulfilled later ..., what his voice fell silent and had his eyes and heart fortify, which will be linked from far inside.
At night, with Roderick going to a festive night, they climbed the rungs center alone, with heat in his shirt skin later. And in a deliberate action, someone asks you a sign that taking care tired and distinguishing see that John was his friend, school mate. He did not hesitate, he approached, greeted him and his sister and a cousin when she noticed well, he saw that he wore perfect for your night.
Debra wore elegant, dark clothes and sang with her dark brown wavy hair; his white brunette and harmonious ****** complexion line, gave her constant reflection. Fate was present, as it would not go around the world to be looked at by someone, he would watch his choice. Little was said, he only realized he was not passing and North America came eleven years ago.


They roasted the hours and the party ended, Ludwig remained with her new friend and his old friend John. They went downstairs, thinking about committing his new friendship, as I had noticed a slight interest in it. This happened and the meeting lasted for several hours.
The next day, he went to see her lawns roads where she lived, always with its mystique and kneeling the beast that wanted to impose upon him, that gives it excessive materialism unloved peace.
She arrives at her house, which was to John, though not very comfortable, but sure to please and attentive to host it.
And that night said much that was the tender feeling and liking her, but as his policy was rigid and concerning celibacy, only mattered to him, the unknown world of madness in his brawling to survive.
Time passed and deepened love, Ludwig went to say goodbye to his beloved, especially that he had faith, but that day would betray him. And so I wanted to put his heart and iron sleep peacefully, but Debra no secret  to tell ...:

"Ludwig, do not abandon our own, we must have faith, and I understand what it is. Ludwig rested and then brought her hands to her, hugged her and kissed all over her face, covering her eyebrows, nose, forehead, mouth; his lips positions in the middle of it, wanted to feel her warmth and tell her he loved her and would miss a lot of pain. But there was no show weakness, he must be strong and not to complicate the farewell from North America. Mourn scared him, because he had forged the feeling, because his aching grief was deep and it was at an undetermined point, with great desire to hold her and kiss over his face.
So ever, it was unbearable, she would like to die in his memory and had to remember in the collective thinking of his family circle. Which it fits the feel shivers ideas with sensations, such as the best in its inherent upstart point.

It was hard, as if more than man Ludwig out the feminine side of himself. But irremediable was the end, eager poisonous reaper approached. Ludwig hugged her, kissed her and stroked her right breast ... saying: "Do not forget me ..." and so left. Then he wrote her, that madness had transformed her away, but the distance was prevented against carcinoma being all postponed.
To know he could not boil your blood heavy thinking, they were contracted muscles. When he relaxed, he saw back through the hatch of his head, the soul that was in an ****** tragic holocaust, where Eros tenaciously and rebellion dictated its laws. Ludwig slept, and consciousness became natural color, as if it were safer, eternally fresh and manufactured this dream a poem ...:  

" That one corresponding to the celebration,
I wish to reunite with enthusiasm and strength ...
touching eyes closed
the sad sky, the dry ground, dried flowers
and people backward habits.

As meaning if it takes itself ...,
is the meaning
although they are scattered
in flows oppressions ...
the animosity of delight just widow and desultory,
losses and more losses at the time of aging ...
and profits to appease others.

For more like,
there seems to be a big drop ...
the same credibility ...?
and setting as a feeling
remain imagination stationary.

As hard it corresponds to the body,
It is destroyed inside ...
and hardened thoughts
tears falling to the esophagus,
without recognizing either way.

Who the pace of living is customizable,
and no opportunity is lost ...
but growing and creative
rears its profile,
as an unforgiven mirage. "


    Have been and unrestless forms of peremptory perceive, and when it starts to wander in my solitude, transporting my sorrow with grief, wherever I go I will take silent and vivifying separation completes the probable brain, which lives and endures in avidity stamped man with his need to want the Lord's command that made me forge this creation .--- he told himself, as a witness epilogue of his poem, albeit as the cry to its essence it was about. Originally from the Ecologist City, where reigned the wise and calm, where he healed their diseases, which has dodged the putrefaction of their wounds, where you inhale the aroms most want and cordoned off its without a grave lack of soft and flowering odour.
To believe missing, do not be afraid and trust that will grab everything, that not a drop of air was not lost on her fingers, which will not fail to display their imaginative stuff Alma Mater.
With all their eating, you want to cure your bad like venereum, and would go into the hands of a counselor or a warlock who extirpated the curse. Heal her feet and hands to despair, to heal the memory of his thought that I seasoned and voluptuous breaks the veins of his caleter, which seems not of it like a dwarf be provided with a dagger will break their venal, and this to commit such surgery, he laughs loudly with garnets eyes, full of the worst evil.

And this way Ludwig Garroch, vague without fear of rags, without fear of hunger or the messiness, only idles so that someday I can walk on the water surface, leaving their hydrocentric footprints where plankton reverence their sense of pain, his infarcted heart , her long fingernails of violence.


TO  BE CONTINUED….
Under edition,  then under All...
Birdie Apr 2013
silently he snored
i noticed him laying
crampt
in the corner
full beard
tattered soul
the lights of the subway moving across his face to a steady rhythm
thump, thump
thump, thump
i was a visitor in his bedroom
his blanket of air wrapped him tightly
to wall his pillow
and my eyes a melody
of empathy
but not
of respect
of hope he'd find something better tomorrow
of a naive visitor
i was just a visitor

as the muffled fdsalg of the conductor slightly ruffled his blanket
we stopped moving
doors closed
still
it's cold
good midnight
the smell crept up to him and woke him of burning rubber
and i'm fearful
for you
for me
for us
this subway is a vessel
it shows no discrimination
and death would hit us all equally
but i'd want you to be alive
this is your home
not mine
i'm merely a visitor

i'm merely a visitor
judging you
writing your story for you
reading your feeling from your tired fact as if i know you
as if we go back to five minutes ago
without you speaking for you
i don't see you
i see your salt and peppa beard
your tattered clothes
your upgrade from pillow of wall to arm
your dark worn out skin
your eyes
i see
your eyes and they say
this is just another day

thump, thump
we move
to the rhythm of your breath
you blanketed me
thank you for warming me in your heart
involuntarily
i would give you a gift
but all i have is my complacency in my seat and the comfort of my hotel room at the next stop

but also because i'm a stranger
judging you
writing your life for you
reading your eyes
from mine
you have a voice
i'm just you observation
a stranger
meaningless
my pity would not last you more than second
it would hurt me to hear your
no, thank you
thank you for reminding me
there's life on the train ride
and it doesn't wear a coat of judgement
or lover's holding hands
Regret. The act of doing something and feeling remorse later on; the act of wanting to take something back; the act of wishing something didn’t happen. I regret ever making the joke that when my sister and I fought; it was like World War 3. I regret not telling my brother how much he meant to me and how proud I was that he was serving our country. I regret falling in love with a man that would be forced to go into the military.

Ayden received the letter in the mail two weeks ago, informing him that he would be expected to be at the airport, to involuntarily serve our country. Something bad was going to happen. Something no one was prepared for. We were only eighteen, just seniors in high school since our birthdays took place in the summer. We had been dating one year. The thought of him going half way around the world to fight in a war that came out of nowhere, scared me half to death. It wasn’t just the fact that I was losing my boyfriend who I was incredibly in love with; It was the fact that all in one day, I would be losing my boyfriend, and my best friend. No one to share my secrets with, no one to wrap me in his arms and tell me that everything was going to be okay. Just like he had done the night before when he had finally worked up the courage to tell me what had happened. My jaw hit the floor, my eyes watered up, and I may or may not have started trembling. We had been sitting on the couch when he squeezed my hand a little tighter.

“I have to tell you something.” He said.

I turned toward him with a smile on my face, which quickly faded when I saw that his own eyes had started to tear up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.

“In a week, I won’t see you. I don’t know for how long, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He started to explain.

“Where are you going?” I asked impatiently.

“I don’t know.”

“You have to know.”

“There’s going to be a war.” He said. “A big one.” He whispered.

“There was a draft?”

He nodded his head slightly.

“When did you find out?” I asked.

“About a week ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how?” I whispered.

“Ava. This hurts more than if I was breaking up with you.” He said. “I’ve wanted to tell you. I have. But I didn’t know how. How do you tell someone you’re completely in love with, that you’re going off to fight in a war? That you don’t know if you’ll be coming back?”

“You certainly don’t hide it from that person.” I whispered.

“I might not be coming back.”

“Don’t say that.” I interrupted. “Don’t ever say that again.”

I let a few tears slip down the side of my cheek. He raised his hand to my face and slowly swiped them away with his thumb. He pulled me closer into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“I love you.” He whispered into my ear.

“I love you too.” I said.

Those were the last words we said to each other a week later while standing in the airport. His parents were there too .He had already hugged them and his dad had ushered his mom out to the parking lot in order to keep her from having a panic attack. Ayden and I had stood there awkwardly for a few minutes. After all, what do you say to someone when there’s a possibility you might not ever see them again? That had been when he out of nowhere grabbed me and pulled me against his chest. Wrapping me tightly in his arms, I buried my nose into the sleeve of his jacket and savored the sweet scent of his cologne.

I stood in the window of the airport, watching planes take off after he had given me a final hug and had left to board the plane. Already, I felt like I had something missing from me. Like there was a big hole in my heart. I felt empty. After some time, I decided I should probably go home.

I didn’t cry myself to sleep last night like I thought I would’ve. Instead, I just lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, not knowing what to think. Tomorrow would be so much different than all my other days at school. No one to hold my hand while walking down the hallway, no one to go out to lunch with, and no one to look forward to so bright and early in the morning. After what seemed like forever, I drifted off to sleep, images of Ayden appearing in my dreams.

The sound of my alarm clock woke me in the morning. And all at once, it hit me, everything that I had been thinking of before drifting off to sleep the night before. Everything that had happened yesterday hadn’t been just a dream. It had been reality and it was finally starting to set in. I threw the covers off of me and started my day like any other, minus the ‘good morning beautiful’ text that I had been so used to receiving.

When I was finally ready for school, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. The weather fit my mood perfectly. Cloudy, dark, damp, awful weather. Unlike most days that usually occurred here in California. I was used to the sun, the nice warm breeze, not this ‘Seattle like’ weather. Driving to school, I wasn’t sure if the raindrops falling on my windshield made it blurry to see, or if it was my own tears welling up in my eyes. I pretended for it to be the first option, all the while knowing it was the second. Staying strong had been one of my traits. When things got tough, I wasn’t one to run from my problems. No, I faced those dead on. Mom always said I got that from Dad.

It’d been a long time since I’d last thought about him. He was tall, strong, and stubborn. He died serving our country. Maybe that’s what scared me most about Ayden having to go fight. I’d experience death through the military too many times in my book. My grandpa had served our country and had also died in military combat, then Dad. Maybe, it was just my family. Luck just didn’t play on our side. When my brother was finally old enough to join, he surprised us all at dinner one night.

“Have you thought anymore about that business degree you want to get?” Mom had asked.

“Well, yeah. Actually, no. I’ve decided against the business degree.” Ethan had said.

“Honey, you’re almost ready to graduate. You’re changing your mind in the blink of an eye and at possibly, the last minute?”

I had sat silently, not saying a word. Ethan had told me a few months before what he’d been thinking. He knew my opinion, but didn’t know Mom’s. I wasn’t happy with what he was deciding, but I was almost willing to support him. We were close, and I didn’t want to lose him like I had lost Dad, who I’d also been so close to.

“I want to join the military.” He said quietly, and calmly.

I remember Mom’s reaction almost perfectly. She didn’t say a word at first, just looked down at her plate. When she lifted her head a minute later, tears had begun to form in her eyes, ones she blinked away quickly, not letting them spill over onto her cheeks.

“When did you, decide this?” she asked quietly.

“I’ve thought about it for a long time. My choices were either, business, or military.” He explained. “And Mom, the business thing just isn’t working out.”

“Of all things to choose.” She whispered.

She shook her head slightly and I saw a tear fall onto the table by her plate.

“Mom, things are different these days. It’s not like when Dad fought.” He explained. “Ava supports me.” He slipped.

Mom’s head snapped up and looked at me. My head bent down, looking at the spaghetti on my plate.

“You knew?” she asked quietly.

I said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Telling Mom that I had known his decision all along wasn’t part of the plan when the three of us sat down for dinner that night.

“I thought there were no secrets in this house?” she asked.

“There isn’t.” Ethan chimed in. “Anymore.” He whispered.

Mom breathed in a deep breath and let it escape.

“Ethan, I love you. And I support whatever you choose to do. You know that. But I am telling you right now, I will be ****** if I lose another important man in my life.” She said, sternly, while looking deep into his eyes.

“Dad would’ve wanted this.” Ethan said, plainly.

“I know.”

And with that, she had excused herself and left the table. Walking down the hallway, I heard her sniffle a couple times.

The fact of those two simple words stung but as the saying goes, “the truth hurts.” Mom was a runner. She was the one who would always run from her problems instead of confronting them. The one thing that she had always said and will continue to always say, she didn’t want Ethan going into the military. Ever since Dad had died, she’d stuck to her word. Even though, we all knew Dad would’ve wanted Ethan to follow in his steps and be a commanding officer, it’d be the one thing Mom would continuously disagree on. I guess you could say I was the same way. After Ayden had told me that he had been signed for the draft, my breath had caught and I had the same reaction as Mom would’ve had. I would’ve wanted him to do anything, anything, besides go into the military. But I guess it was different this time. No one really had a say in who was on the list and who was absent. My bad luck had just started to shine through.

School dragged on. As normal. But it was different now. Ayden wasn’t there to hold my hand. He wasn’t there to greet me after my classes, wasn’t there to walk me to my car, wasn’t there to just be in my presence. It was like he had died. And just the thought of that alone, brought tears to my eyes. I wasn’t the only one whose boyfriend had been called off for the draft. No, there were others, but none of those other couples had been like Ayden and I. We weren’t just a couple. We weren’t just homecoming king and queen. No, we were best friends. I’d known him since first grade when he’d transferred to my elementary school. I had been the one assigned to show him around the school. We became friends, and later on, best friends. Freshman year of high school, Ayden and I had gone to homecoming together. Not as a couple but just as friends because neither of us had a date. Sophomore year, we had gone together again. Not because we didn’t have a date, but because we wanted to go with each other. I’ll never forget that night, because that was the night Ayden had told me he wanted to be more than friends. I had never actually thought about being more than just his friend until he had brought it up. That night, I didn’t just fall in love with a guy; I fell in love with my best friend.

The final bell rang for school to be dismissed. Once again, I felt emptiness inside while walking through the hallway. Blurs of kids rushing past me kept me from allowing my tears to spill over onto my cheeks, but that was the only thing that stopped them. After getting into my car, I put the key into the ignition but didn’t start it; I didn’t even turn the key. I put my head in my hands and took a deep breath. In my head, I thought, “One day down.”

After sitting for a few minutes in my quiet car, and letting other vehicles exit the parking lot, I finally turned the key and started my car. Hearing the soft music come on the radio, I turned it down so I could only hear the engine running. Putting my car into reverse, I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going to go. I just wanted to drive. Halfway home, I changed directions and headed to what seemed like my second house, my best friend’s house.

I knew his Mom would be off work by now and would be there to let me in. I found it ironic, as I always have that when you’re in a hurry to get somewhere; you stop at every red light possible. Red lights, stop signs, and slow moving cars in general were the only obstacles in my way that afternoon. Finally, when I was out of the traffic and almost to Ayden’s house, I pushed my foot a little harder on the gas to gain some speed. Driving up over the gravel road, I could see in the distance his Mom’s small car parked in the driveway; along with Ayden’s. Just seeing it there, gave me false hope that maybe this was all a dream and he was actually at his house, waiting for me.

Pulling into the driveway, his Mom came out onto the porch. Ayden lived in a house that you see in the movies. A tall, white one with a wraparound porch, the swing out front. I loved spending time in that house. Putting the car in park, I slowly got out and walked up to the porch.

“How did it go?” his Mom asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, while walking up the stairs. She pulled me into her arms and hugged me. Rubbing my back, she whispered,

“It’ll be okay. He’ll be coming home sooner than you know it.”

“Can I just go up to his room?” I asked.

“Of course.”

She released me from her arms and I opened the screen door to head inside while she remained on the porch. I walked up the stairs and to the right. Ayden’s door was closed. That was unlikely. He never kept his door shut just for the sake of it being shut. It was always opened. I pushed it open and walked inside. All his stuff was where he had left it. His bed was unmade, his closet doors standing open. I walked to his closet and ran my hands over his shirts, His scent filled my nose and I just wanted him home. I grabbed a button down, blue and white, thin striped shirt. He had worn it to school a couple times. I put it up to my nose, taking in faint bit of cologne that you could still smell on it, even after it going through the wash. I walked over to his bed, sitting down on the edge. With his shirt still pressed close to my face, I breathed in a heavy breath and let everything go. The tears started coming and I didn’t stop them. I started sobbing but I didn’t care. It seemed like everything that I’d ever loved, was gone. Because technically, it was, for the time. Ayden leaving to go fight in a war half way across the country scared me more than life itself, and hurt more than if he had broken up with me. I felt alone, even when there were dozens of people around me. I felt as if Ayden was dead when he was actually alive and well, as far as I knew. He’d only been gone one day and it felt like three years. Losing Ayden to the war efforts showed the true meaning in the saying, “you never really know what you have until it’s gone.” But really, the truth was, I knew what I had. I knew exactly what I had. I just took it for granted and didn’t think I’d ever lose it. And now all I wanted was Ayden back in the same country as me, back in the same house as where I was. In his room, watching a movie, playing a game, anything. That’s all I wanted at that exact moment.

I jumped up out of my sleep, my heart beating faster than a race car zooming around a track. I looked at my alarm clock, the red digits glaring, 2:33 back at my face. I swallowed and took a few more deep breaths before kicking the covers off and walking to the bathroom. I turned the light on and splashed some cool water over my face. Looking up into the mirror, I took one final deep breath and walked back to my room. Grabbing my phone from my nightstand next to my bed, I unplugged it and ran my finger over the touch screen. Reaching Ayden’s name, I touched the screen where it said to call. Holding the phone up to my ear, I waited for Ayden’s voice to answer. After about five rings and silence, his voice answered through his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Ayden. I’m a little busy at the moment, but leave a message, and I’ll make sure to get back to you.”

My tears broke out all over again, my already swollen eyes releasing more sobs. I pulled my covers up to my chest and buried my face in them. My sobs grew a bit louder, and I heard footsteps coming from outside my bedroom door. I tried to stop, and after sniffling a couple times, the white door opened slowly.

“Honey,” Mom said, coming over to the bed.

“I can’t do this, Mom.” I sobbed.

She pulled me into her arms and rested her chin on my head while softly rubbing my back.

“It gets better.” she whispered. “It gets better.” she paused. “I promise.”

“I don’t know.” I said.

“I do.” she replied. “I went through this. You seem to keep forgetting. But I went through this exact same thing.”

I took a deep breath. “How long?” I asked. “How long does this last? This loneliness, this emptiness?”

“Too long.” she whispered.

She pulled me into her arms even more, holding me tighter, until I slowly laid down on my bed, my tears falling to my pillow. She sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing my back. It reminded me of all the times when I had been sick and she’d s
I know this isn't a poem, but I would like some feedback, comments or suggestions. I wrote this for a class, but I really like it. Tell me what you think. All comments are appreciated:)
Traveler Feb 2019
Involuntarily
My subconscious
Mind speaks
All that I've "let go"
Down below
Still creeps
Invisible as a ghost
Stuffed into place
All my brokenness
Slaps in the face
Forgotten imprinted
Carved into my soul
All of my losses
Tightly in tow
.....
Traveler Tim
Amanda May 2013
I think you're lovely
I know you don't feel like you are
but I really wish you could see through my perspective
because I catch the glimmer in your eyes
when you see your nephew running towards you
or the grin that widens across your face when you get to help someone who is in need
even though you might not have much to give
I think you're lovely because I get to witness all the little parts of you
that define who you are
Such as the way you constantly tap your pencil when you're trying to focus
or when you involuntarily bounce your leg rapidly up and down
the way your lips move when you talk
and the way you hold me tighly against you when it's time to go
but most of all
I think you're lovely
because you make me feel lovely too
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
This is one of the racier "Memories" poems by the great Barry Hodges, my alter ego.
It might well make you come involuntarily in your ******.

How happy was I once with the wind in my hair
Wandering o'er the dales with joyousness unmeasur'd,
In the sweet long passed innocent days of platonic love
When stolen gropes and kiss were to be treasured.

But all good and true things come to a sad close
And my poor first love lies in her grave so sorrowfully
Having been crushed to death by a runaway steamroller
Before I managed to go all the way quite thoroughly.

What a waste of delightful teenage flesh was that
Yet perhaps I had a narrow escape from the derangement
Which might have been mine had our trysting
Led to a semi-permanent matrimonial arrangement.

For I recall one afternoon in the old ABC cinema
In the delighful Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate,
Sitting next to my gorgeous love in the back row,
Exploring her not so very private parts on a hot date.

How I cursed the management's niggardly folly
In not showing a film with hot romantic blood
But saving pathetic pennies by putting on
Daffy ******* Duck and Elmer ******* Fudd.

But yet I perserved with my digital explorations
Unaware that the throbs my fingers felt were no dream
But darling Elsie laughing like a proverbial drain
At Daffy's hilarious anatine adventures on-screen.

'Twas then I began to wonder about the viscous liquid
I had hitherto imagined was Elsie's lovejuice flowing
(dear, dear reader, cease your perusal of my tale forthwith
if you are of a nervous disposition or prone to food up-throwing)*.

It was only a careful examination of my sopping knuckles
In the dimly lit gents after old Daffy's film was done and dusted
Which revealed that my dearly beloved had leaked
Big time out of both ends, leaving my fingers well encrusted.

O to think that, but for Daffy, I might have been lumbered
With a different kind of bird for whom double incontinence
Was a way of life (thus, the fatal steamroller she encountered
The very next day was a blessing from kindly Providence).
Shanekwa Nov 2011
Know that you are nothing more than a puddle.

Starting off as a pure droplet,
                    falling to this earth in a rush of adrenaline and confusion.
Then you collect and form.
                    Become involuntarily tainted by the world around you.

But in your stagnant existence there is beauty.
           You reflect every detail in the world around you.
                               You become that world.

               The generations of growth and survival in every twist of a redwood.
               The dreams of a million men in the windows of a skyscraper.
               The unexplored wonder of the crevasse of every mountain.

And soon, we will be returned to the sky, only to fall
and reflect another world.
Harsh Sep 2012
The Judge, me, walks in, settles down on the bench,
a cue for the jury, me, the accused, me,
and the defendant, you, to sit down.

It's a special kind of case at the Court of Conscience today.
No representation. No witnesses. No audience. Just
the parties affected and those who arbitrate. You and me.

Crime, Falling Out of Love! Walking away, leading you on,
not giving us a second chance, wasting your time, taking you
for granted and ripping your soul apart.

The accused, Pleads Guilty. As the law requires to discount
a third of the maximum sentence, the judge and the jury,
decide that the court will recess for three days.

I'm on bail but I cannot come within eye contact of you.
My guilty heart is tagged so each time I feel your pain,
sadness or anger, it alerts my brain and shocks it!

The court convenes. The judge clears her throat.
Because she's too emotional, along with the jury,
to even talk, let alone think clearly or decide.

"We find the defendant Guilty!". Guilty of
involuntarily man-slaughtering this relationship.
I sigh! Justice does not mean fair, not in law nor life.

The judge goes on. "However in this particular case
the sentence is to be decided by the defendant."
Because the ball is in fact in Your court!
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 19/10/2011]
Glowing colors spread across the dawning day,
one week after you departed our world.

On this quiet street where nothing happens,
tragedy happened to you, and those who love you.

The man driving his truck couldn't stop in time.
He will never forget involuntarily ending your life.
I saw his face registering what he had done.

We pray for him daily, and for your family,
who lost you so suddenly.

I have never known a gentler soul.

Now that you are fully in the Light,
your voice, your soft, smiling laughter
come to me frequently.

I hear you saying, and it feels very real:
"Live fully and sweetly, as I have done."
©Elisa Maria Argiro
*~*~ For Marica Grey ~*~*
Rahama May 2018
I'm scared to write;
Cause I know the words;
"I messed up really bad"
Will come out of nowhere.

Oops!
It just did.

I feel like I'm in limbo;
I'm a mess.
I messed up something good,
Something great.
I think about it and my eyes water;
I think of what's going to happen next;
And I involuntarily shudder.

I put myself first for once.
It doesn't feel like I put myself first.
I feel like I just convinced myself.
I convinced myself to destroy;
My source of happiness;
Laughter;
Inner peace.

I messed up really bad.
The deed is done.
This time there's no turning back;
But *******,
I messed up really bad.
So sad right now.
Inevitable May 2016
Hands trickle down your naked body like a soft morning mist.
Spreading your legs to expose your beauty.
Petals of your beautiful rose shine and welcome me.
Lookin deep into your eyes straight into your heart.
My tongue caresses your flower, sipping from your fountain.
Your body moves gracefully in pleasure.
Placing my hands on your hips to grip and lick...
Feeling you grip my tongue involuntarily as you climb to the point of ecstasy.
Gaining speed, grabbing on tighter.
Your body trembles wrapping your love in mine
expressing mine physically
Connected mentally
Her rain falls down ... Not a drop hits the sheets
Life's a Beach Jan 2015
Yes to my muscles, but
how can I help but
Sigh at
the spots and
the thighs
which are still in construction
Adult loading
Where the **** are the instructions?
As I stretch
and bulge
And involuntarily
yield
to Maturity of Body

loading
loading
*loading
ERROR 404: ADULT NOT FOUND

(old poem)
R Saba Oct 2013
If I’m not mistaken,
I saw you today,
pale but golden,
flimsy
yet rooted to where you were standing,
neck bent,
looking off into the distance.
I know I am mistaken,
seeing you today,
so many miles away from where this could be true;
but the truth is,
I keep seeing you.
Reflected in every dark head of hair,
shining through every silly, crooked smile,
every turned back
becomes your broken one,
and I am scared
every time it happens,
skirting around the corners
with my eyes trained on your shoulders,
waiting for them to
snap
and turn towards me;
scared
of how wrong I am,
to see those shoulders turn with someone else’s face
held aloft on that neck;
scared
of the strength with which I pull the door open
and escape each facsimile of you.
It’s sad, really,
I know this,
involuntarily shrugging it off,
excuses ready-made,
for I know this will fade
in time.
It always does;
the shock of a new place
makes me run back into old ways,
and soon you’ll be gone again,
no more shadowing me,
no more appearing in every face,
no more escaping
each metaphor,
each reference made;
soon you will fade
and I will move forward
into that sunset,
the one that you see when you stand like
a cowboy,
crooked,
bent,
head tilted,
eyes transfixed.
And I,
unable to help myself,
am transfixed too,
even as I move on.
stupid memories, familiar poetry
Phoenix Rising Apr 2015
I often catch myself
involuntarily whispering a phrase;
"I wish I were home"
while at my house.

I dream of a character
that I know exists but I'll never find
because I'm too comfortable with
being alone all of the time.

Light pets my cornea every morning, through the sunshine printed tapestry...
I prefer the synthetic things in life,


the irony.
C Jacobine Nov 2013
Oh, but for the words I cannot tell you, I would have your heart.

Maligned against the shadow of my conscience, truths too frail to echo freely
reflect, carrying bursts of fantasies that tug against the structure of my soul.

If I could, for a fraction of an instant, take you into those ideas;
if you could sense just a drop of the emotion that paints my dreams
and etches the critical beauty of your face into my eyes, involuntarily...

If I could only overwhelm you the way you do me...

But I have nothing but words to offer, and words decay faster than flowers

I could return to you your dignity,
if you would return me my attention.

If only anything else were worth focusing on...
Bailey May 2016
Our Father, which art now on Earth, I am here today to introduce you to one of the most faultless ideas that Man has ever come up with: Public High School. I will be your personal tour guide while you experience the magic of learning just as any other student would.
To start your day, you’ll wake up at five in the morning (due to the start times that are framed and super-glued to the walls of the District Office). You should spend most of your time trying to look presentable for your schoolmates. If you’re late and forget to do something, it’s easily fixable. For instance, if you can’t find the time within those two hours to brush your teeth--no problem! Just ask every living soul and their mother if they have any gum.
When you get on the bus, choose a seat in the middle. That way you don’t risk inhaling the tobacco in the back or a friendly conversation with the bus driver. If you see a friend, talk to them really loudly and excitedly, but not next to them! Always in the seat across from them (so the other kids have to sit next to strangers).
At school, we’ll weave through the teenage islands in the hallways and walk to first period. Make sure your first period is an easy subject, because at seven a.m., you’re lucky to get the date correct.
Down this hallway we see some testosterone pumped scholars congratulating each other on which estrogen-laced student they managed to have ******* with. To the left of them you’ll notice a shunned pregnant girl. Don’t talk to her. You should always remember that in high school, it is disgraceful to reproduce after having ***, never mind what the mandatory health classes say.
We finally get to first period to sit down in our graffitied, gum littered seat, and open the textbook---whereon the most heterosexual boys have educated us on the male anatomy. Your teacher is Mr. Anderson, whom all of the children hate because of his politically incorrect and harsh comments. I realize that you created him but really, don’t try to have him fired; he’s got a tenure hanging above his head.
After three classes of lectures and forbidden whispers, it’s mid morning and lunchtime. You’re lucky you own all of the food on your green Earth because if not, you’d have to choose from five different freezer-burned, reheated dishes. Time to scrutinize your identity and decide where to sit. You’re not even a being... well the floor isn’t so bad.
After six hours of violently trying to hang on to the Quadratic Formula, and not Grace's new relationship status, you can get back onto the thoughtfully engineered school bus and involuntarily listen to the sins of the weekend before, until you get home.
Thank you for visiting a little piece of heaven on earth. You’re one day closer to college!
satire is the best
julie Feb 2017
who am I?
I am who?*
when asked such a question,
the first thing one may think of
is the place where they were given life,
as culture is linked to identity.
however, it is not the case,
nor does it involve one's namesake.
instead, it focuses on the person
as a whole
their value and their purpose
for this time being
life involuntarily places us
in positions that lead to questioning
the self.
yet,
it is through such inquiries
that we learn to answer this question.

— The End —