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Joseph Bazalgette knew
about things people did,
like pooh
and to that very end
he built the great sewer
which apart from moving the pooh also
alleviated London from the stink
of the rich as well as the poor.

On the engineers seat
in the House on Greek street
he drew up his plans to
do away with bed pans as he
laboured alone in the night.

Thomas Crapper came to fame and
hardly because of his laughable name,
but his name became his fortune
and in the music halls of London town
people were soon to put a penny down
to spend a penny in the lavvy,
a savvy lad was Tom.

And they made old Joe a knight
for
funneling waste out of Londoner's sight,
they even had street lights that ran on
the gas
that floated down tunnels through
which the
waste had to pass
on its way to the sea.

It was a jolly good show
and a spiffing great plan
carried out quite imaginatively,
I can imagine the man
and his men way back then were
flushed to be
a part of
London's
lavatory
story.
A bit of fun, bang goes my CBE.
Grace Jordan Apr 2017
My feelings on the world are a complex dichotomy. If I could control the world, my rule would be to control nothing. To give freedom and agency to everyone and let every culture and kind shine as they do and **** superiority and focus on growth, not *******.

But, not all people aren't as communally minded as that. And though in theory I could change the rules, I can't change people.

In its own way, that's beautiful. The visceral strength and resiliency of humanity fascinates me, with the chaotic undertones that lie beneath every eye. I love the spectrum of pain and brilliance it brings. But it also makes a utopian world of understanding and lack of control impossible to keep people safe; because never will there be a human race that doesn't at least have some people craving absolute control.

I think this dichotomy within myself parallels my standing with humanity very well. There is something on most every end I can find fascinating: free will, selflessness, unpredictability, tenacity. But also I can never seem to be pleased with how humanity could be but never amount to.

Not that it gives me much trouble. I've always kept humanity at an arm's length, choosing books and stories over the flesh-bags in front of my face. The only thing I ever struggled with was not being normal with my human relationships, and trying to make my methods match.

My methods won't match because I might as well be an alien for all I care about directly interacting with humanity.

Yet, I love humanity, in a way. I could write about human transcendence and growth until I die. I am madly in love with human potential. But I don't love humans. I don't love a species that muscle arms its way into dominance and can be arrogant and small-minded. After all we've managed to accomplish, and we're still start wars over skin color and scapegoating? Its laughable, in a way.

I suppose I look at humanity as if I was an alien scientist. I have no way of measuring things or conducting research because I'm foreign, but I can see the greatness in their eyes and am floored by it. Yet I also see the violence in their eyes and am repelled by it. The most tragic, push and pull love of my life has been for this species.

I've learned lately I'm okay with being alien. But its strange to find a foothold in a world where I feel constantly at odds and different.

But I like strange, so I think its what works best.

Between humanity and me, things are complicated. Things are wonderful and painful and all worth the while in its own, ****** way. I suppose all I have is my words and I'll share them, and humanity can listen if it will. I hope it will. I hope it can help people who feel like aliens too, and maybe then being an alien and a human can be easier.

But for those things, we'll just have to see.
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
Honesty frankly a refreshingly bright comical view on the non laughable matter!!!
~Ty Raj~I love when I can be so easily reminded I still fit in somewhere with this family I know all I am of seven billion be~Nice to feel inclusive of blood bearing beings otherwise more oft I'm with spirits if not with trees~~R<3<3:)!!!~~

~If you come by Sa Sa Ra wall to Yellow Eyelashviper be you will see this the anti-venom I seek more with all this family be!!
We WANT NEED MORE!!!!
...and do click the illuminating pic link!!! Tink u'd and already indeed dig!!~~

~And too again this what I seek when I wake from sleep of night and have found here so very much help in and with and for my
WAKE UP CUP,
So when I simply breathe here within this She I can feel dear and near and I am living and worthy by and with,
Her Great Tantric Loving Manifest Be!!~~

~to be honest with you~~Raj Arumugam
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/to-be-honest-with-you/
Lizzi Mote Apr 2014
All I wanna do is write a song
that hits all the right notes , is lyrically
blessed with Shakespearean quotes and
reason to rhyme.

I wanna write in a way that'll make you think.
Make you think wow that's incredible,
so expressive and so true if that
song was a colour it would be the
palest shade of blue.

I wanna be able to use clever metaphors,
subliminal semantics and a
love that's so divine.
I wanna make powerful observations,
create profound connotations,
have a style that's distinctly mine.

I want my pen to be a prophet,
a wizard of words.
I want it to be inspired,
globally admired.
With modest undertones.

I wanna write in a way that'll make you think.
Make you think wow that's amazing,
so passionate and so true if that
song was a colour it would be the
palest shade of blue.

But every time I put my pen to
paper, my mind goes in to hibernation
Failing to formulate any sort of
logical cohesion. I just end up
with some laughable linguistic
simplicity.
Like for example :

I'm not your piano so
don't play me like a chord
Opposites attract, it's simple
we couldn't be more different as people.



Continuing the narrative,
that's been done so many times
before.

I'll make tiny paper maché hearts,
press them to my lips
and kiss you all over down to your chest.
Tie them together with string
attach them to your vest.

Whispering softly,
Your beauty is so mesmerizing.
no ones perfect but you're defying.
I could stare at you for weeks
and not notice the hours,
I could hold you till my arms fall off.
                        'Cause , strength's part of the mind,
that controls the heart,
and tonight, your heart lies with mine.

So, whenever you can't sleep
I'll pick up my temperamental pen,
write you a lullaby, laughing as I
smile and say my gift is my song
and this ones for you.
And if music be the food of love,
then darling let's have a feast!

I wanna write in a way
that'll make you think.
Hit all the right notes. Be so expressive and so true,
if this song was a colour it'd be a new shade of blue.
Charlie Chirico Feb 2017
Self,
centered,
watching the world burn.
This calm is maintained by
expelling air in between each blink.
Glass is far in sight,
glasses cracked
and not foreseen,
because I'm not a seer.
Blanketed in ignorance,
wrapped: up tight.
Shelf this selfishness, I'm told.
So I consider this advice.
Rearranging the paperbacks.
Misplacing the first editions.
All the math in the world; variables
do not ease understanding
of long division.
So I'm left not right,
have never been alright,
and that is why being centered
is crucial for survival.
That is why becoming adaptable
isn't laughable
while watching the world burn.
It's having a cold disposition
to withstand the heat.
Wrenderlust Nov 2013
Average-joe protagonist wipes beer glasses
at the helm of his sports bar, blissfully ignorant
of the imminent laughable tragedy. Clouds circle,
and there's that obligatory radio broadcast,
the one that warns of inclement weather-
rainy, with a chance of Selachimorpha.
You hum the Jaws theme, tracing pickup lines
on the skin of my back, while sharks pour from the sky,
the improbable tornado dropping great whites
on the California shoreline. One arm curled
around my waist, you tickle erratically
until I squirm away, only to creep back again,
and put my head in the mouth of the sand tiger,
wandering too close to the edge of the water, foolish,
but this is a b-movie, we swam out too far
knowing how it would end. The extras
scream and scatter, arms flailing,
going through the motions of surprise,
stumbling in their scripted attempts
to flee the inevitable. Predictably,
they fall. We all fall, and the girl trapped
in the hammerhead's belly
has this peaceful expression,
as if she can't quite remember why
she ran away in the first place.
Zywa Aug 2021
Yet his pessimism

does cheer us up in some way --


it's quite laughable!
"De schandalen" ("The Scandals", 1953, Simon Vestdijk)

Collection "Appearances"
your demeanor

   is highly suspect,

attempting to disguise

malfeasance neath a heart

    of fortified wrought iron,

Machiavellian by nature

  still, you have your wily ways

   like that of the allure of roses

       within prickling thorns,

  twisted of laughable

         frivolous superficiality

      and reckoning's  bereavement
Tommy Johnson Feb 2014
I’m busting out of this oppressive penitentiary of negativity
I’ve got the determination to transform my laughable dream into an applaudable reality
I refuse to be held here for another second
No locks, no cameras, no rubber rooms or electric chairs will hold me
I’m free

No blockade of words can cause me to halt
Opportunity is knocking heavily at my door
I open the mahogany entryway and welcome it inside
I make it tea and have a deep conversation about things to come

“You’ve been in the dog house for too long”
“Yeah, but every dog has its day”

It’s calling to me
Time to initiate my aspirations

Cheers to the future
So long to the past
Now I am here
On a paramount path

The path is made or salty tears, perspiration and sacrificed blood
The satisfying end justifies the brutal means
Not a soul had a single ounce of faith in me
Naysayers only bring you down
Now I’ve made it
Their mouths drop in disbelief and can’t seem to make a sound

Escape the prison of “won’t”, “cant” and “never”
And all those who doubt you are prison guards, liars
Breakout from the discouragement
Then set the jaundice jail on fire

Never needed them
Self-proficient

Shut up
And open your eyes
And observe closely
As your callus skepticism dies

Thank you for keeping me in the dark
I’d have no reason to reach for the light other wise
I look at you fall as my dreams rise
Donald Guy Nov 2012
11:33pm @Boston_Police:
#occupyboston The BPD respects
your right to protest peacefully.
We ask for your ongoing cooperation.

@Occupy_Boston: 11:51
The BPD asks reporters to leave
the inside of the camp
they don't want them to record
and report on what they're about to do.

1:31
Cops give Occupy Boston
five minutes to vacate.
Nobody is leaving.

1:41 @OccupyBOS_Media:
The police are beating the Veterans for Peace

1:44 @Occupy_Boston:
Cops arresting everyone.
We are being beaten.
KEEP TAKING PHOTOS.

I walk there as my legs will cary me...

The Aftermath:
All quiet on the western curb
Over 100 arrested and spread amongst
more than five separate jails—none close by.
Camp two is gone and camp one intact. for now;
The ecstatic crowd, arms linked, chants
"Who do you protect? Who do you serve?""

Hyperbole all around.
Injustice or public safety?
...It hardly even matters.

The people are on the streets again
The military is overseas but
this time, the war is at home:

Men and women in blue,
likely just doing their jobs,
fighting people without them.
I fear the 99% fights itself

Rumors flit about. Crackdowns abound
Dallas, Atlanta, St.Louis, Seattle, &
San Francisco: from sea to writhing sea
The chickens have come home to roost and
The pigs are bringing home the bacon

The professionals were cleared out,
but the media wasn't. The talk is on
line by line, it is lively, ever-streaming:
blogs and tweets; statuses, state by state.

Rumors created. Rumors dispelled
Proof offered. Faith destroyed.
Anger engendered. Assumptions reinforced:
The people are connected
but the disconnect remains

Between rich and poor, yes, but maybe worse than that:
this movement is only as United as these states
The basic principles the same, the practice not so much
Peaceful, yet violent; Pro-capitalist, anti-corporate
"a laughable gang of disorganized, confused Nazis.  
an ill-disciplined, highly-trained, ****-smoking,
fascist organization."

First the Tea Party and now this,
Demonstrating the strength & flaws of Democracy
even as they protest the flaws of Republic
Still, they are not so different

They sit in parks by day and sleep at night
in dorms, apartments, houses, tents. Uncomfortable
Wrapped too tightly in sheets of red, white, and green.
Trying, desperately, to wake up from the American Dream

                                        ~D.B. Guy
                                         10.11.11
_Poems in Autumn_. #7 of 7 .
Nods to John Wieners' The Hotel Wently Poems & William Corbett's MIT course 21W.756 Writing and Reading Poems
cellobello Feb 2012
Those words,
sent by a tall forest of
briars,
from eyes dull and
empty,
carve out a caricature of my
heart.
How easy it is to laugh at the
pain,
now humorous and seemingly benign.
My sides split open and my
once pure red heart
crashes
broken to the ground, scattering
future promises and dreams.
Yes, how laughable my pain is.
the moon always reminds me of you
it's almost laughable
when I think about what you said to tie your memory
to the moon

and I'm just another
20-something fool whose spent the last five years
crying over those hard hearted *** and runners
who promised "forever"
while they hold another's hand
and I cover my eyes and move my fingers apart
to peek at what's really going on
only to deny it all over again in the morning
Nat Apr 2013
It starts with a smile
It always starts with a smile.
I smile because I'm friendly,
and people like friendly...
Right?
Right...
People love friendly.
[Men] love friendly.
Because apparently,
Friendly equates to easy.

And so it begins.

"Hey, you seem cool,
We should hang out sometime."
Say the boys (men?) boys
In my class,
At work,
At parties.
"Okay!" I say,
Because he's cute, or funny, or smart, or possibly just
Different
From all the others.
And sometimes he is.
But sometimes...

You get to his house
To "hang out"
Because that's what people do apparently,
They "hang out"
Ask me on a date?
Laughable
I don't know that it has ever happened.
But tthey have no problem inviting me to hang.

And I go along with it.
Because we all want someone, something
And maybe this is just the way things work for my generation...
Right?

And once you get to the house
You're invited to sit on the couch.
Relax
Smoke
Have a drink
"I thought we'd watch a movie or somethin'"
...or somethin'

So the movie begins (because why get to know each other?)
And suddenly
It becomes less about the movie, and more
About the somethin'
I'm not asking for somethin'

Regardless of my nose ring,
The jokes I make,
The drinks I had,
The dresses I wear,
And the fact that I agreed to watch a movie,
"or somethin'"
I didn't come here for somethin'
I'm not asking for somethin'

"No, let's just watch the movie."

He just moves close,
Pours another drink.
When I take a sip,
His hands begin to roam.

"Seriously, no thanks."

I think about leaving but...
This is just how guys are.
Or so I've been told.

"It's no big deal. Come on. You're being a *****."

Maybe I am being ridiculous.
For some reason I feel bad. But still.
I'm not asking for somethin'

"No."

Apparently, at this point,
No
Is not an option.

"You want this too. I like you."

The fight for territory begins,
A battle I quickloy lose.
Or resign myself to?
Maybe...I asked for this?
No. I'm not asking for somethin'

Shame. Anger. I walk out alone.
How did I let this happen

AGAIN?

Guilt. Then rage.

And this time, I refuse to play the victim.
I refuse to blame myself, to keep taking this,
Because "that's just how guys are."

I didn't ask for this.
I NEVER did.

Providing drinks and entertainment doesn't mean I owe you somethin'

My dress doesn't mean I'm asking for somethin'

I am done feeling responsible,
Keeping silent,
Blaming myself.

When did men start believing that
my smile
means I'm asking for somethin'?

I'm asking for something
Not
Somethin'
A May 2016
What does it mean to lose?

What does it mean to be stripped down to your core and stand, yielding, for the entire world to judge?

I sit alone, among snowy abundance and beauty so severe, that the very thought of countering it is laughable. The sky is poised with such excellence, whilst all around me, the birds display their intentions through a chorus of chirps and chatters, and yet, somehow – all is still. I ponder the idea of loss.

And wonder if, in this noble cycle, anything is really lost at all...
Yenson Jul 2018
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes

another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see

for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes

for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils

As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does



Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed

Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee

eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes

come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee

This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs



Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam

Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex

but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes

perchance unlike you common goons,  she knows distinction has no comparison to thee

Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms



Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee

so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches

we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas

in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah

for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes



Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we

lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches

indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea

and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies

It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence


Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
This is based on the experience of some one victimized by a contemporary Left-wing Group for daring to criticize their views and believing in aspiration. This poor fellow has been hounded all over London, lost his job, isolated by smears and outrageous lies now broke and on the verge of suicide,, all because he aired his own stance against socialism. The Reds are forsaken bullies, I dare say this. In the old Soviet States dissidents are subjected to a program called Slow death, where they are discredited, harassed, hounded, mobbed everywhere, isolated, they are smeared, character assassinated and persecuted. they are unfairly dismissed from jobs, denied basic Human rights and some are framed and institutionalized and declared insane, in essence their whole lives are summarily destroyed and most end up committing suicide. I regret to tell you that this happens to some in this great Nation too. Pls research Criminal Gang-stalking, Cause Stalking and Community Vigilantes online.
Tess Calogaras Mar 2017
In your body I can breathe,
your fragrance,
my exhale,
your voice,
my internal sigh.
The bed is our familiar,
so hard for us to go.
To leave this oasis,
where we fit so mosaic
like cherry blossoms in spring
or rooftops filled with rain.
I hate how vapid I become
as I stargaze at the sun.
Leave me dozy,
laughable at best,
dumbstruck devotion.
You are my only.
Tu es mon amour.
Tessa Calogaras
Copyright 2017
andy fardell Mar 2013
Soul of darkness covers my face
As the liquid sin quenches my thirst
For hunger
Can you hear the birds my friend?
Can you feel them fly?
Listen to the night time dreams
Hear my inner cry

The morning gods have lost their war
Done drinketh all the way  
This ****** night of horror rule
Pure madness seeks
My way

These eyes gone red through cracks of dawn
May never see the light
As crazy horses fill my storm
My horrors dream
Delight

I'd woken to the silence
No birds of death to flutter
Yet!!!

Sweated brow seeped my vision
These thoughts I'd wandered in
Unbalanced in a pool of dread
My nightmare was not
This over

Fingers pressed to form my eyes
No sleep that I must take
My troubled madness
Laughable
Please keep my eyes
Awake
Please keep my eyes
Awake
Ruth Forberg Jul 2010
Look for glasses overflowing
Underbellies showing
Of people never knowing
Just exactly where they're going
Follow buttons glowing
Because it's all for the showing

Till you're drowning in the pool
Wish you coulda kept your cool

But it's too late. Too late for everything.
Nothing's fixable. The damage is permanent.
Look at this mess, I must confess.
It's the biggest yet.
Bryce Jul 2018
Here we are, awoke
Turning the effervescent wheel's
Lively spoke
And speaking of which,
Dreaming through the day
I sit awake and with God I
Note

"where have you been?"

In shining stars and spectrography
My surveying eyes alight to watch the
Topography
Shift and fizzle and burn and cook
To turn and dance towards a thousand ends.

Time a laughable wire severed
To hone the momentary soul
And yet
Let go towards the endless drone of ever
Lasting beyond the melting bones

It is a beautiful flower of a thing
The last through the door for rite of spring
Swinging, arms out on the galactic road
Aiming for all at that great unknown

And yet,
I stare up at a beautiful powder-coated sky
Watching the clouds curl and saunter by
Knowing this truth, never seeing the same thing anew,
And hoping somehow to be indemnified

Of what?

Again,
We speak the same
To reiterate the revolutive turn in all but name
The earth owes naught but dust and dirt,
To all which is and ever earned.

To not forget that which we come,
To not mistake the hand of fate;
That all that is shall once be done,
Then faith of life is ours to take.
Angela Minard Jul 2013
Worthy

of what?
lies?
indifference?

Raging at my own heart
that breaks apart so easily
moment by moment
in fits and starts
wildly beating, wide open
like a fool
blindly chasing an illusion

Worthy

of what?
time?
evasion?

A strange alliance
this friendship we have
absurdly laughable
and unworthy of these words
or anything ever offered
because I am more than
worthy...

Angela Minard 2013©
Poetic T Dec 2016
I never quite realized the juncture of its occurring,
but as I got older from seed to stalk to flower I
realised that some thing was off, only ever so slightly.
Nuances of memory were enveloped in my deliberation
of actions that were considered unworthy of what I was
saying or doing but I could never quite glimpse over
the horizon of what felt uneasy till that one day.

It wasn't what I had expected I was walking as I always
did in the woods near my home, I loved nature the aromas
of either summer when everything was vibrant and I would
just slumber under the shade of my favourite tree.
"I used to tell that tree my problems from an early age,
I always envisioned that when I told it of my woes that
when it became winter that each spoken word was a leaf and
when it feel then my mind was free of those burdens.

Ridiculous I know, now I just watch the leafs do there
dance of the falling as I like to call it. Some elegantly waltz
to there beckoning below while others just mosh-pit it
to the floor like bungee jumping with no cork. I wish I felt
that free to just let go of it all. But alas I am me and I cant
change the evolution of myself, I can only channel my energies
in to trying to be better than what my family think and expect
I will undoubtedly be, worthless in there expectations, never.

It occurred that day, I never understood why? but it changed
everything. I was diagnosed with ice-pick migraines if you
have never had them...

"Lets just say it like a full blown migraine in a cluster of seconds
or minutes and the pain is like being shot or my vision of the
pain that expels from my thought,

"Then as soon as it hits like a numbness expels itself on the
area and light headedness not the nicest of experiences specially
when like a earthquake I have aftershocks all day,


This one was intense I stumbled and eyes fastened to each
other and then I was up and about again. that numb feeling
has got a, "Like feeling I had lost some part of me, but after
a while I was back to myself. Entering through the backdoor
I hollered to my parent that I was back, and they came down
stairs smiling and I was uneasy at the show of affection?
"Why the smiles you evicting me or something?
They just laughed and said cant we just smile when we see you.

This was the start of it, every time I had that ****** pain
noticeably cracks were seen. I would be saying about something
and then they'd ask if I was ok, and after my university results
came I was despondent, Scoring a B+ when I needed an A+.
Beside myself I wallowed in negativity, I couldn't be a teacher
of science. Those days in the woods channelled my curiosity to the
makings of the world around me.

But then I had a lingering pain, locking my eyes as if they were
unattainable for my vision to peer through the cracks. But as
always panic wasn't justified and the numbness passed.
I walked into the sitting room slightly groggy of the passing
"Surprise, congratulations our teacher in training.
"What this is cruel, is this a joke,

A+ you were jumping up and down yesterday like you
were on a pogo stick, I thought for a moment lingering on
the subtle change of what had perspired. I'm sorry its been
a lot to take in the last few days.
"I think for Halloween ill  dress up like Einstein,
everyone laughs out loud E=mc2 player........

I cant quite grasp what else had changed, niggling
at me through out the years that past an uneasy
trepidation lingered. But at the back of my mind
it fell as I was with love in my heart, and I was honoured
to have not one but three children. all  luckily had her looks
not mine, I always gave them a kiss on the head goodnight.

But then I got a feeling within that I wasn't really thinking
straight, and I knew then. It was to late it was like a tsunami
cresting over my mind and I realized it was one of them.......
Before I could fight it, I know I couldn't stop it.
Then the pain faded I didn't see anything different and
sighed with relief maybe it was just a headache? no worries then.

I walked in the house I could smell her cooking, god I loved
her cooking, she was like a Picasso in the kitchen and my
mouth watered at what creativity had been created.
"Hi baby, Matthew, Sarah, where is your sister?
perplexed looks fell over their faces.

"Who Daddy!

"Maddie, your little sister,

Sarah spoke asking the obvious thought of who is Maddie,
I was getting agitated at the thought they would be playing
a game when I hadn't seen there sister.
"Baby where is Maddie, "is she a friend of the little ones,
I thought by her voice that she was humouring me, and as I
looked around every photo was vacant of her beautiful features.

My mind went it to overdrive, it couldn't, wouldn't be that
cruel... I had turned white and became dizzy, I don't feel so
g.......... I threw up in the kitchen bin as tears of realization
swept over my like a rock slide. I was vacant and untethered
at this point and voices were a blur. "Baby you ok, I heard
her through the haze of confusion. "Do you remember what
I told you about what used to happen to me?
confusion in
her eyes answered my fears that more than one thing had changed.

Hand were over my eyes as I didn't want the children to see me
like this. Were they even mine? of course they were, how could
I have even thought that for a moment.. "I'm sorry baby,
Then the inevitable conspired on me, and I felt my mind succumbing
to that crest of pain, I lost my balance as I was already leaning and
as I blinked I was the table edge greeting me then darkness enveloped
my conciseness. I heard voices in this sea of confusing moments.


Awakening in a hospital bed I blinked as if It felt that I was erratically
becoming conscious then being swept into the void of silence.
"Baby I love you please wake up,
Her voice was like a choir of classic music gracing my mind.
I awoke suddenly, her smile greeted me. My head that was a pretty
hard head you have, two days you been lazing in bed, she smiled
I think mostly because I had greeted her with a groggy smile.

Sarah was there holding, no more like squeezing the blood
from my hand, but I didn't mind even though the pins and
needles were not a delightful pain to wake up too.
Where is your brother? "Brother daddy, I knew that look
and my wife just nodded, in a panicked look. I was exhausted
even though knowing what had accrued and tears fell like
glass shards cutting on my features as I was dragged to slumber.

I awoke to see my wife, holding my hand gently, in panic I
asked where is Sarah? She is with my mother, why did you
ask about Matthew, you know he was still born, and the pain
this causes us both. I'm sorry my baby I was confused.
I uncontrollably cried, the dam of emotions had broken through
and in a matter of hours I had lost two of my children those
memories were still and forever chiselled in my thoughts...

After my release I went to see a therapist as I became solace
in my grief that my wife couldn't comprehend to her it had
happened years ago. But in my eyes I had lost there breath
on my face as they kissed me on the cheek goodnight.
Now I only have the most recent memories and not even
pictures of them to console my heart  with.

I had spoken in detail, of what had happened and
with vacant expressions he just looked and smiled.
I knew what was next either prescriptions to dull my
mind of these imagining that he perceived I has had
or the worst case I would be greeted with that inevitable
white coat and padded thoughts drugged to my eyes *****.

I left feeling lighter in myself even though he gave me enough
meds to sedate a horse, a really, really big horse. I walked home
thinking how would I cope knowing the memories that were
bleeding out of consciousness. I had to do everything to not
crack like a glass snowflake falling from the blue skies.
I smiled as I walked through the door seeing her run towards me.

My arms were open to have my only other reason for living
embrace me, I knew it would eventually happen, but not as
I had only grasped her in my momentary needing. Then it
took me, eyes were saturated in nothing and when I came
to my grasp was empty my palms only hugging the floor.
Nothing has ever changed this much and dread encompassed me.

My home or was it, neither a picture or flower graced the
surrounding of my once warm home, I walked into the
living room, I couldn't smell the perfume she wore.
"Baby, where are you? no answer maybe she was out..
Then i stared at the fire place a jar, then a smaller one sat
neatly next to it, a shudder cam over me like death whispered.

I walked over, but it was as if my feet were dredging through
tar. I couldn't look up, I wanted to but knew what would
greet me. I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and then
all was silence. I read the wording, and tears streamed from
eyes like words screaming into vacant nothingness.
It was my wife's ashes and my 8 month old daughter,
so long had past since there passing but to me it was now.

I sat there just gazing blankly at these precious vessels
she didn't even, i didn't even have a chance to say goodbye
to then either of them. All of them gone, why me, I needed
surrender to the fact that I was no longer within a world
that cared. I held it in my hand it was cold, I knew what
had to be done, I couldn't do this crap anymore.

I wondered what would  hurt the most in the mouth or
to the temple? My frustration at life had climaxed to this
inevitable junction. I didn't know whether to cry or
laugh, I just thought of there images the love of my
life, my three little jumping beans. I smiled momentarily
then normality intruded and I pulled the trigger, then oblivion.

Can you comprehend the time of life and death, it eternal
yet finite. I felt the pain for a moment and all was nothing,
but I awoke in a unknown location. Confused and even more
perplexed at the thought of was I alive or dead? then I happened
upon a slim looking bloke,
"Hello this is going to be a funny question,
"Where am I? and what day is this?

"Are you high mate? "No just a little disoriented stag party,
The date was at least a week from my happening, I needed at
least twenty migraine tablets and a *****, but then again would
this just happen again. I wondered till my feet hurt, I slept at a
homeless shelter. Luckily they had pity on my sorry looking
****. In the morning I phoned to no answer discontinued it played.

It took a few days to get back to my house, and I looked through
the  window my outcry was instant and also more vocal than I
had anticipated. She say me and instead of joy there was horror in
here loving eyes and then she passed out but I was behind a window
and she feel with no arms to catch her she crumpled like paper that
bleed crimson then she was still. I kicked in the door s the children
were screaming.

"Its ok babies daddy is here,

"It cant be we buried you a week ago?
"Mummy said you had a seizure, that you had feel asleep
and never woke up again, now mummy isn't moving,


"I felt her pulse her blood soaking the surrounding areas, she
was already going cold,


Without warning that godforsaken pain eclipsed my eyes, and
then I was alone and where I saw her in life then death was
erased from the surrounding. My poor children had lost me
and her in a week. but I had shifted and they were probably
inconsolable at that point, I cried for hours till I couldn't weep
another tear and then I realized I had to look up myself for
if that was at that point I ended myself had I doomed my others.

I looked up my name, bless she hadn't changed the code,
if my thoughts were true I had caused a fluctuation that
extended beyond my misguided but needed actions.
I penned in my name and where I had just imagined
the thought of what if's. It was as I had feared I was dead
again this was a worrying turn of events.

My obituary was a before, I, he had suffered a aneurysm
on the date that I had ended my life, but it was just another
action of my grief. How many lives were concluded, but
my thought shifted to the noise at the front door. The key
was edging towards the door  opening. I didn't know
what to do as I knew the repercussions of seeing myself.

I just hid in the closet, I saw her face as she entered and I
had to keep my emotions in check. I was only thinking,
"Don't open the door don't open the door, she walked
up the stairs and I took to the front door, creaking as it
opened. I really need to oil this when this chaos doesn't
interrupt my existence anymore, "Who's there, echoes from
upstairs and I exit with my bank card. ill only use a bit.

The cashpoint was in front of me I had borrowed a hoodie
from a neighbours washing line, I didn't like them anyway
so no lose there then. I only took a few hundred to keep me
going in food, I was homeless for months as I couldn't really
get a home or a job as I was dead and buried. Visiting ones
own grave is a very peculiar feeling nice head stone though.

Thoughts flurried through out my waking days to what I
would do as this wasn't really what I had planned with my
life. The thought of wanting to move on seemed to fit
my predicament, as  neither a headache or migraine of
any sort.. Lucky me.. I was awoken by a voice, not one I
recognized and as stumbled to my feet dazed but awake.

"It is you?

I had no time for these games of twenty questions and told
then to politely "jog on, but they just stood there and I
thought I was incoherent. I put my glasses on and looked
again? my brother well his brother! "why did you run,
"From the grave bro, you were dead I saw you with my
own to eyes. I just looked as a tear escaped my ***** exterior
and a crocked line of cleanliness dripped off my face to the
floor below, and the only words I could muster was "I'm sorry,

You see I never had a brother, I was a lonely child, cradled under
that tree wishing my troubled days away always wishing that
when the leafs fell so would my troubles. Yet there he was, it
was nice to see I had a sibling. He was hugging me like I he
was holding me above water fearful to let me go encase I
drowned out into this nest of unkempt persons and he held on tightly.
I just stared and there was a momentary silence in-between the noise.

"How could you leave her like that she was your wife,
"She would have understood man.

I saw where this was going, thinking I had a break down, some
how faked my death. Laughable really I couldn't escape it but I
was really good at delivering it to myself in others ways...
Let me explain, "How the hell am I going to explain this rationally,
my thought speaking out in my mind, seconds seemed cemented
in place. "I will tell you, but not here, and as I began to walk away
I just thought of his face the moment I tell him, I so going to the
padded room when he hears my explanation.

But i didn't have time i was accosted by two rather large gentlemen,
"What the hell? let go off me, that was a far as I got as I felt that
flaming burning sensation in my neck. Darkness ensued then a blurry
light, everywhere was white, had it snowed? was that a dream?
No I was in a padded cell my wife and brother looking on, sadness
painted on eyes as if they were looking at some sick animal about to
be put out of its misery. "Its not me, I shouted to no avail as the eye piece closed and I was alone with my fluffy white clouds wow what
ever they had given me it was awesome..

So many years had past i hadn't told a soul of my misfortune, till
that moment when i felt my heart stutter like an engine... then the
pain came and i was neither here or there but freeze framed in two
instances, the now and the moment before i pulled the trigger...
my eyes were open in death but closed with the gun so I reached
out and took it, and I left a note, a brief scribbling,

To many leafs have fallen and the troubles they just became a
pile of problems building rotting upon the other, this isn't the
truth but a leaf that shall never fall....

"Whisper in her ear every night, for a whisper is louder than
and word.....


And with that I opened my eyes and I had shifted once again
and the gun luckily was in that other place.  I looked down at
the piece of crumpled paper and a
3350 words...
Ashlei Cottom Jun 2014
Ashlei Cottom
Sweetheart, fine art is not about pride. It's about FINDING pride. It's about creating something and taking pride in the fact that you did. When I read your poetry, all I hear is "Me, me, me, I'm the best." That's not what poetry is... Poetry is not self praise. Poetry is taking the most hurtful, joyful, mixed, complicated emotions that you have and putting them into words that make everyone understand. You may tell write back and tell me everything that is wrong with my poetry, but I will not care. Why? Because I know that I have successfully been able to express myself in ways that other people can relate to and enjoy. Ways that they may not have been able to express the same feelings. I have confidence in your ability to realize your mistakes and fix them. I look forward to seeing these changes. So please, take this to heart and write. :)
Loghain Carvó
How laughable that one of my lessors attempts to give I art recommendations.

Ashlei Cottom
It's not so much your art I'm trying to change, but your character. It's your character that is reflected in your art.

Ashlei Cottom  
And if I could ask, why do you assume I am your lessor?
Loghain Carvó  
I am not assuming, you already have shown that you are a lessor human through your words.

Ashlei Cottom  
By encouraging you to keep doing what you love and bettering your character? Sir, I'm sorry, but if that is your opinion, I don't think it is I who is the lessor human...
Loghain Carvó
That is not what makes you my lessor, You are my lessor simply because you lack the artistic vision to fully appreciate the magnitude of my grand works. Please refrain from responding to this message as I wish to waste no more of my precious breath on peasants.

Ashlei Cottom
And how is it that I am a lessor human if all I do is try and help? Some people cut down and criticize and make others feel like mere mud on other's shoes. I am not one of those. I try to see the good in everyone. I think you have great talent, but I wish you would use that and dig deeper. I can tell you right now, with an unbiased opinion, that you unfortunately come across as narcissistic, selfish and and as you so eloquently put it, a "lessor human."
To our good friend, Loghain Carvó .
jessiah Oct 2014
funny to think I have been so caLm and together
amidst the greater untogetherness of my life
the laughing audience in my head cackling
at the laughable audience following my cracking

if it were set in sides of a scale
I'd be afeared to watch it balance

mayhap some creature of diRe
would erupt in a tangle of talons

that's what I'm afraid of after all,
that I am the pungent void that consumes
the eyes that glide low in the grass
and rise up with hate and ******
the teeth that bite with unclenching malevolence
bite biTe BITE YOUR WEAK ******* FLESH
AND SNAP YOUR WORTHLESS PILE OF BONES
SNAP
SNAP
SNAP
CRACKLE
CRACK
DON'T
YOU
EVER
COME
BaCK

HURt YOuR neGLiGeNT sOULs wITH thE PaIN
yOu alloWed to hIM to iNFLict On me...

but dEath still coils a leaf slowly to the ground
even for such thiNgs
Ayad Gharbawi Dec 2009
THE STORY OF SARA


AYAD GHARBAWI


CHAPTER 3: BEING AN ACTIVIST

  
Gradually, we become ever more radical in our burning quest to uproot every conceivable element of the corrupting culture of the oppressors.
  We soon started to call these oppressors 'Pigs', because that is exactly what they were: overweight, bloated, filthy animals who live simply eat and consume all day, and who love to live in their own excrement.
  The Pigs had to be removed, because you cannot negotiate with a pig.
  It was so obvious to me!
  Some people did, indeed, argue that diplomacy and negotiations were the way to achieve our blessed equality-based society, but that was pure idiocy to me; because, for Heaven's sake, a pig will remain a pig and cannot become an 'enlightened' pig! These criminals, who are creating poverty, and who are killing people, because they do not allow them decent health services, must be completely eradicated, or else, ordinary people will continue to suffer.
  One day I heard Tony give a speech in front of a huge audience: "There's no point in cutting the tail of the snake. No, you must go straight for the head, and that's how you **** it!" And there ensued roars and cheers, from the mainly young crowd. "And, if someone is trying to **** you, what do you do? Negotiate? Talk to them? No, you **** them first, that's what you do! That's who the Pigs are, my friends. They are out there killing you, and so many of you tonight are simply not even remotely aware that you are dying slowly – so, you must, first of all wake up, and realize that someone, somewhere, is draining out the blood of your life, and next you must identify the cancer that is killing you. So, who's the cancer?" Tony screamed, and the by now delirious crowds immediately responded with a thunderous and hate-filled, "Pigs! Pigs! Pigs!"
  "The Pigs talk and teach us about 'morality' and 'respect' and 'decency', and other subjects like that. That's laughable now, isn't it?! I mean, the blood stained mass murderer is teaching us etiquette here?!"
  "No! No!" roared back the audience. "**** the pigs! **** the pigs!" they suddenly and somehow instantaneously started to chant. So, I must correct what many people think about Tony, and that is, he 'invented' and popularized that phrase, '**** the pigs". No, he didn't; it was the audience that night who spontaneously came up with that really exciting and vibrant phrase!
  From then on, violence became more common along with the never ending chants – if not screams – of '**** the pigs!' Every day, and all over the country, the movement had flourished, and there were the most refreshing and gloriously destructive riots in almost every major city.

  It was at this time that I first heard a speech from Omar.
We waited for the man to appear, but he seemed nowhere to be found.
  My God, I heard from so many people that he was the most radical in the deepest sense of the word!
  Apparently, he made Tony sound like a child!
  He also had a well disciplined party – unlike Tony.
  Here was a place that I can find the ‘cause of my life’!
  I could work for Omar and that would be the point of my life!
  The thought thrilled me – because I was already a convert to their ideas, but with Omar, there was a real party that was actively fighting the government, whereas Tony and other leaders like him were independent activists, but with no party behind them.
    Then, Omar suddenly appeared.
  He was of medium height, average looks - but it wasn’t long before you noticed his inexpressibly burning, fanatical eyes!
  I was about a few metres from him, and I could feel the sheer intensity of passion and rage within those eyeballs!
  This man must have absolutely the words of truth, for no Man could look like that and be a liar!
And then he gently spoke:
  "**** the pigs, I hear you say. Well, that's not good enough for me. People like that make me yawn. And, I'm bored of yawning every day. We need more. We need to move on faster. I need speed. It's not just '**** the pigs', it's '**** the cops!', because the cops defend the Pigs and attack us every day; '**** the teachers!' because every teacher does nothing except to teach us with pointless information'. And, '**** every human being' who sides or serves the establishment!”.
  Omar’s eyes were literally able to stab right through your heart and soul simply by staring at you!
  I can well imagine that my reader will not believe me and will say it was because I was a convert to Omar’s ideas that I found his eyes to be so abnormally powerful – but, what do you say to all those people who did not like him, and who met him, and yet, they, too, all said that his eyes were profoundly piercing?!
  So, you see, reader, do believe me – it’s not because I was emotionally enthralled by Omar, that I am describing him to you the way I do!
  He had beautifully framed fingers – I don’t know why I noticed that!
  He had a rather longish nose – maybe, that was one defect in his face, but you hardly noticed that, given the other attractions in this man.
  And then he possessed the deepest, most guttural, and yet so sweetly melodic voice, that I had ever heard, and when he spoke, he simply entranced me – not to mention the thousands of others.
  Omar continued, beginning to raise his ragged voice:
“And, so I order you, tonight, and tomorrow, and every day, to fanatically and ruthlessly exterminate every visible sign, agent, artist, writer, philosopher, painter, sculptor, journalist, teacher, professor, lawyer, doctor, surgeon, banker, engineer, everyone who works in the mass media like the television, every film maker, every scientist, and every single employer and employee of the Pigs."
  The audience now simply shrieked the verb, '****! ****! ****!’ while Omar went silent, amidst this wild orchestra of hate being played out.


  I noticed, that unlike Tony, Omar wouldn't gesticulate or move his hands at all.
  Actually, he just stood there, rock solid, like a statue while only eyes and mouth spoke!
  The man, I swear, looked like a 'human rock'!
  He was the absolute epitome of boundless hatred; of unrestrained defiance against the rulers ruling us!
  Yes, I do admit, and I hesitate to say so, but, yes, he almost did like completely maniacal – were it not for his self control and the beauty of his words!
  The audience relaxed.
  Omar waited until there was silence, and he continued:
  "Do you see the difference between what I am saying and what brothers like Tony say? People like Tony demand from us to uproot the pigs. But what Pigs does he, in fact, mean? Who does he mean, when he says 'Pigs'? He means the rich. That's it.”


  Now, Omar abruptly went silent.
  Tension.
  He was staring at us.
  I could feel that the audience felt nervous precisely because Omar was staring at them.
  Finally, he continued:
  “Can you imagine the limits of his intellect?! To Tony and his misguided followers, the solution facing the problem before us is simple enough: you simply wipe out the rich, and suddenly we have the beautiful society!"
  Omar was sneering, being utterly sarcastic in his voice and tone.
  "So is that it, Brother Tony? Is that all we need to do?”
  There, he stopped again, with a sarcastic, wicked smile on his face.
  The man’s body simply had no motion in it!
  I was waiting to see, if Omar would, at some point, move his body or his arms, but so far nothing!
  He continued:
“My goodness, I never knew that the gigantic problem facing us was to be solved in such a simple manner! But, no, you're being fools. Or, maybe you're fooling your selves. Either way, I don't know, and more importantly, I don't care, because, as I told you all out there listening to me,” suddenly, he began to scream with his rasping voice:
  “I'm a serious man, with a serious mission, and above all, I'm a man in a hurry!"
  Again, Omar went suddenly silent.
  I could sense, that he was deliberately teasing the audience, because they were obviously desperate for him to continue speaking, while he, would every so often stop speaking, thus adding to the tension in the atmosphere!
  The audience laughed, loving the biting sarcasm; obviously there were lots of rivalry and jealousies between the two camps, and so Omar's followers just loved to hear the buckets of insults being poured upon the followers of Tony.
  The mocking tone continued:
  "These fools are retarding our own path to victory! These followers of Brother Tony, are doing the dumbest acts that I have ever seen. I mean, what do you mean and what are you trying to achieve, when you have his followers going to restaurants and disrupting the place? I mean, is this what the definition of 'stupidity' is, or what?!"
  The crowd cheered: "Yes! Yes! Idiots!"
  "Listen here Brother Tony; I would like to say, 'it's all right, you're still young and you'll soon grow up'. But I can't say that. You know why?"
  The audience waited as Omar paused.
  He was staring at his audience.
  Suddenly, he erupted with his deafening scream:
  "I can't wait. Didn't I already tell you that? Didn't I tell you I'm a man IN A HURRY AND I'VE GOT TO DO MY WORK! DON'T YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE GET IT?"
  He roared, and the masses applauded furiously.
  "I don't have time, for children like Tony, and for his own little children, to stand in my way, and wait for them to grow up! I don't have the time, because I have an enemy out there, that needs to be completely, ruthless and fanatically exterminated, root and branch, do you now follow me?"
  "Yes! Yes! We follow!" screamed the masses.
  Silence.
  And then, Omar continued:
  "So, we know who Tony defines as the Pigs. What about myself? We must talk the talk of the brave. If you're scared, then get out of here. Why do I say this? Because this struggle requires the most ruthless behaviour on our part, and to be ruthless, you need to be brave, and to be rave means you have no fear."
  It sounded almost as if he were singing.
  Or maybe it was my imagination.


"So, who are the Pigs, you ask me? Simple. The Pig is a man, woman and child who has any Pig Attributes. What do I mean by 'Pig Attributes'? Very simple. Any human, who has in his brain, any idea, concept, believe and acceptance of any value from the rulers who rule us all. And, what are these 'values' that come from our dear rulers? They are ideas and values such as: there are the simple ones, like the belief in the right to profit, belief in the right of property, inheritance and so on. Then, there are the other beliefs, such as, belief in compassion for the rich, or cooperating with the rich or socialising with the rich. You follow?"
  The audience was silent.
  "That means, any human in our sick society, poor or not, who in any way, not only physically interacts with the rulers is a Pig himself, but also any human, poor or not, who has in his heart and mind, any empathy for the rich is a Pig himself, and so therefore, it follows – and I hope you people out there are listening to me – it means, therefore, that a poor human being who has any Pig Attributes, is a Pig himself, just like the rulers themselves. Do you understand?"
  Silence.
  And then he walked out.


  It was so sudden, because I expect a really screaming end from Omar, but to the surprise of everyone, he ended and simply walked out!
  But, I, understood what he meant.
  Basically, he was enlarging the definition of what it meant to be the 'enemy'.
  This struggle was now going to be infinitely more difficult. With Tony, the war was simple enough.
  We were 'right' while anyone belonging to the ruling class was 'evil' and that was it.
  Obviously, no member in the ruling class can deny that he's in the ruling class! They can even change their accents and their clothes, pretending to be poor, but there are computers and archives, such as birth certificates, school records, and it doesn't take long, to find out a person's origins.
  But now what Omar was proposing, that a Pig is any human being who interacts with the ruling class is evil.
  Also, anyone who has any thoughts that have any Pig Attributes (for example, being pro-ruling class), are also evil, and therefore, had to be eliminated.
  In other words, the poor can be Pigs as well.
  I loved that, because, I was never comfortable with most other left leaders, including Tony, who only focused their ire against the rich.
  To them all the poor were ‘blessed’ and ‘sinless’, and I knew, from my own background, that they simply romanticised the poor, probably because they themselves were all rich people who had never lived one day of their lives in poverty.
  With Omar, being impure, or sinful could be anyone in society – and, your background or class didn’t matter.
  That was far more logical to me!

But with joining Omar’s party, came other problems for me.
How were we supposed to ‘find’ a Pig, or an impure person?
  How can we be sure if a person has the Pig Attributes in his mind?
  It seemed ludicrous to me!
  I had doubts because as attractive an orator that Omar was, once you went home and thought about what he actually said, a lot did not make sense.
  I had so many ideas that contradicted what Omar had to say.
  For example, can’t we achieve our goals by peaceful means – rather than choosing the path of violence?
  And if we must use violence, then why don’t we attack military targets and not civilians?
  Wasn’t it wrong to target civilians and civilian places – like factories, farms, and shops?

  
  There he stood; eyes blazing as ever.
  What makes eyes 'blaze' I wondered.
  They don't actually emit any light, do they?
  So how can one man have such penetrating, piercing eyes that go right to your innermost heart?
  Omar seemed to be made of steel.
  Or, maybe it was all in my imagination, as Sanji would always be telling me.
  It was his personality and also his body language: that stern, stiff way of standing, that seemed to be the epitome of defiance against the evil in the world!
  His whole body seemed to be chiselled from the purest marble; there he stood, this heroic rock, against the tyranny of the storms and the oceans that were crashing on him; and still, there he stood, not only in supreme piety, but also, there he stood, waging a struggle against these very dark forces of evil.
  He will rid our society and our nation from evil, and one day, we shall live in a truly happy country.
  This nation and its sad people, this nation that has so many miserable, poor and unhappy people, will soon be able to live free, happy lives, without the burdens and the shackles imposed on them by the ruling elites.
  He spoke:
"They need to be utterly, and without a shred of human mercy, be exterminated, or else, it is us, who will be exterminated! It is either them or us! We need to cleanse our entire body from these cancerous cockroaches. Don't you people understand? Call it '******', call it 'exterminate', call it 'butchering them' – I do not care; what I do care and what I need in order to breathe uncontaminated, fresh air,  is to surgically and methodically and blindly eliminate the very existence of every Pigs on our land! That is why we have no choice but to fight. The criminals leave us with no choice. If they surrender their corrupting ways agai
DH Matthews Sep 2013
Why?
It's a painful memory that appears to be settling in for life rather than preparing to leave,
It's been heard by countless millions, and none of them can understand how it sounds to me,
I haven’t been as happy since hearing it as I was when I heard it,
It's symbolic of the most significant turning point in my life to date,
The lyrics are so perfectly foreshadowing of a problem that I couldn't fathom that I’d have,
It has a stronger connection to memory than any other song,
It represents the perpetual unhappiness that I refuse to believe controls me.
I'm unhappy.

Where?
A car that I haven’t seen in years,
On a street I barely saw enough of,
In a town I wish I could visit again.
A happier place that I can see but can never return to,
Personified by a face that's disappeared from here.
Somewhere I miss, yet somewhere I hate;
Somewhere that needed the version of me that died in that very place;
A cemetery.

When?
Happier times;
A collection of moments which are infinite from within,
Yet minute from without.
A time when I could define myself,
Through the vice of another person;
Albeit vicariously, it was the last time
I was able to define myself.
I was everything; I was the world.
And then the world ended.
Happier times that I can't and won't return to.

What?
A song;
A memory;
A beautiful beat,
In a story that nobody's telling.
A soundtrack to a movie nobody wants to see,
A composition that will fall on deaf ears;
Yet still be heard by the world at large, call it irony.
Something nobody can take away from me;
Despite how tenaciously I've tried to get rid of it.
A succession of noises that would be meaningless to me,
Were it not for the memory.
The memory.

Who?
She, I, and the drivers of some road in Georgia;
Drivers that didn't notice then and don't notice now.
She, driving, demonstrating, performing;
Has driven on, failing to notice.
Me, her, and the songwriter, I suppose;
Me, a person I don't know,
Replaced by a person I can't.
The songwriter, collecting her checks and trophies,
Probably not a **** to give about the troubles
Of some ******* who heard her song.
Us, a concept foreign to me;
Unbeknownst then, well studied now;
Still as foreign as that state,
That city,
That road,
That car,
That place that I can revisit,
But never go back;
Her.

The Song?
Because I'm unhappy;
In a cemetery,
During happier times that I can't and won't return to;
A memory
With her.
I need more words.

Words
Nevermind, I'll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you.
Don't forget me, I beg.
I remember you said:
Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead.

But that's not right.
I won't find someone like you;
There was no you.
I wish anything but the best for you;
You selfish child.
Please forget me;
I'm nothing worth remembering.
I've forgotten everything you said.
It rarely, if ever, lasts in love.
It always hurts.
Laughable,
The things I tell myself to bandage
A wound that doesn't appear.
The clichés I give meaning to are

******* pitiful.
Just about two years and counting.
Two psychiatrists,
Two half-assed ******* suicide attempts,
Dozens of classes,
Legions of friends,
A handful of people so much like you that they'd failed to notice there is no you,
And you're still talking about this
Pile of ****.
Who's talking about it?
Me? You?
Nobody.
It's white noise;
Habituation at play.
A memory not worth remembering.
Three years of piano lessons,
The lines of my scripts,
The best films throughout history,
Even the Eagles game from last week is

Worth remembering
This,
This moment in time occupied by just another pop song,
Time spent with a person no longer there,
Family member after family member, anecdote after anecdote,
Things not to say or do in front of her hulking ******* of a brother,
Approval of people I wound up discarding.
What now?

I need more words.

Where were we?
Fresh year, fresh start, and the Eagles were still a winning team○;
A dorm, a drunken haze, a bed, a city unparalleled;
Untested grounds for a young idiot
Like me. She certainly did
And wasn't afraid to show it.
Independence, experience, maturity,
And a stunning mutual lack thereof.
Problems, buried like the worst ******* time capsule ever.
Happiness (unsustainable)
Love (attachment)
Future ()
A candle burning down to its last wax can’t relight,
And a pile of wax won't help me see in the dark.

But who needs candles anyway?
I'm better off without candles,
Playing with fire can get me burnt.
And besides, lightbulbs are brighter and more efficient.
I’ll install lightbulbs all over the apartment,
Once I can figure out how to turn the power back on.
Oh, there aren't power lines running to this apartment.
(sure wish I had a candle right about now)
Maybe the light from this cigarette will help.
And I could sure use a cigarette right now
Because they’re playing that song again.
Surely I can find some better music than this.
This station seems nice, let's see what she can offer.
They're playing that song again.
Over and over again.
Is it just me, or are they always playing that song?
It's always that song, no matter what.
It's all I ever hear.
Pop radio sure is terrible these days, right?
Sure is.
Can't walk down the street to class without hearing

That ******* ******* song.*

(
Nobody else is hearing it.
I'm the one singing it.
My life's a ******* joke, isn't it?
)

○The Philadelphia Eagles were 10-6 in 2010, 8-8 in 2011, and 4-12 last year. And during the ‘still friends’ period, we watched the division rival Giants win the Super Bowl together. I ******* hated it.
English class final project; a lyric essay about a song that reminds me of a specific time, approximately a thousand words in at least five different sections, and something cited from the outside world from said time. The feedback from my professor and classmates was overwhelmingly positive, so I figured I'd share.

also, the "more words" bits were tongue in cheek references to the 1000 word minimum for the assigment
WAli Oct 2013
Fickleness you are my foe
I used to find you sweet
A laughable, childish quality
Something I'd grow out of
But you've ruined me
I've loved so many
Only to lose interest
Fickleness you are my foe
Nathaniel Aug 2011
Skip the drugs
And give me a double dose of serotonin
I certainly do like those laughable days
The heavy sun reddening my face
Just a few minutes away from my lover's embrace
But I wait so I stay here and pace
Take the pills
So i can socialize among the saddening lies
And a week is a day
When your world starts to fray
So i take a seat with glass in hand
Waiting on a phone that will never call again
In my mind I knew this had to end
So take another pill
So the world won't seem so gray
And I make another pact
Not to die today
But I lie to myself far too often
To truly know the color of my character
Like the night it might be black
Like my anger when i look back
Or I could be a saint
Waiting on my rapture from a God of grace
All I know is that there is an end
Not so very far away
Jack R Fehlmann Oct 2013
it wasn't the fickle
and it might have been
the laughable
but much too cold
unfeeling by any
worthy of notice
Or warming
the lemon yellow Sun
Blocked out feeling
and pale of ignorance
I found a broken clock
Its face twice right
Always the same
the gear workings mixed up
corroded and unwound
springs loose and crazy
like my thoughts,
the aged wood scratched, dented
Not much to look at
and I thought to use it,
at least for a while,
Ashley Breanna Apr 2014
One glance to the side and she crawled into an uncomfortable ball
Holding her breathe
Slowly letting the walls hug tightly
She froze in silence
No oxygen
No windows
Just the sound of her own heartbeat

Her face puzzled
Deciding weather to laugh or cry
She didn't let fear choke her by the neck
Fore that would have been the end of it

This thing stared deep into her eyes
Strangling her so called innocence
Every smile
Every laugh
Every warm moment danced away as if it were their will to do so
This was no laughable matter

This thing took in the good and released evil
All hell broke lose upon those who dared to cross paths

It became clear to her that this creature
That held the world between its lips
Wasn't just any kind of entity
It was a beast
The kind of beast that would rip your heart right out of your chest
The kind of beast that fed on fear and laughed at your tears
A beast that couldn't enjoy a spark of light
So it couldn't let anything jubilant
Take control of its home

This beast had invaded her home
Which is no longer sweet
Would it be wrong to blame it all on the beast
Or herself for letting it eat her purity away
Leering at the mirror with terror written all over
She accepted the beast
Trevor Blevins May 2016
Seeing you walk on mirrored images I dreamt in moments of pain,

And thinking that I one day would hold your hand in meadows and on top of the Eiffel Tower,

Yet I was so far from you,
And that, you could not bear.

There is comfort in our separation, as you've blossomed within love.

No opportunity for me to disagree if you are happy, secure and warm in the gravest of circumstances.

I feel you here with me, God knows your caring hands could still scrape along my face.

Who wouldn't imagine the infinite (nearly laughable now) possibilities that could have spawned out of our seasonal tryst, but let's give praise to the unexpected joys shot out of reality.

All pieces in place of a puzzle carved out of some improvisation.
Hank Helman Aug 2016
Sin
Carla,
Whom I love and regret in equal measure,
Told me to talk less and think only in the morning.
It’s unfair, she said, for someone with your demons,
To obsess past mid day.
You will only exhaust yourself,
Become dizzy from looking over your shoulder.

It’s the sparrow’s lunch you eat, she said
Afterwards you think only of suicide,
It’s your pathetic answer to everything.

You have a propensity, an absolute need to confess, Carla advised me,
You see sin as an obligation,
As a necessity to fuel your ridiculous notion of salvation,
Repentance is a shell game,
No sooner have you apologized for being yourself,
Than you begin sinning all over again.
Your quest for innocence is a self-selected Sisyphean task.

I told her I had no idea what she was talking about,
And that if she wanted to save me she had to speak in simpler terms.

Quit looking for the meaning in things, Carla said,
Life is lived on the surface,
What we really fear is not that we will die,
But how we will die,
I mean good god,
The insane Christians
Have us picturing death
With nails driven through our hands and feet,
Hanging from a crucifix,
Can you imagine the indignity,
While some low level centurion,
Stabs at us with a sword,
I mean really,
Hauling crosses up mountainsides
Being laughed at and scorned in our weakest moment,
The drama is laughable,
When the absolute truth is most of us
Will die peacefully in our sleep,
Gone without even knowing the party is over.  

Replace your metaphysics with a game of chess, Carla told me,
At least do psilocybin once in awhile
And have a genuine spiritual experience,
And she held up her hand for two more glasses of scotch,
Neat,
And lit her cigar.
If you are thinking bad thoughts, write Carla. She knows everything- apparently.
A zillion image of me rest in so many minds
I dare not swim into them

I have my own ocean to swim in
That connects me to the sea bed of my heart
The seat of my soul

For now this is my only intention
For now this is my only attention
For now this is the purpose I breath into life
----------------

They watch you silently
Then judge you loudly

It’s laughable

They have so much to say about you
But nothing to say to you

It’s delirious

They have so much to say about you
But no relationship with you

It’s ironic

They have so much to say about you
outside the relationship
but not in the relationship

Its epiphanies

They have so much to say about you
But never held a conversation with you

It’s bizarre ~ hold on!
It’s their instincts? Ooh wait their six senses?

They have a problem with you
But don’t even hold your number

It’s comical
Wait! How did that possibly happen?

Creating stories in their minds of you
Confirming the stories into other minds
Spreading their impressions among a few

Then stories solidify into truth
in the eyes of a few
Now open to all as a matter of truth
Now all is open to accept as face value

Little do they know
I’m flattered by all their attention
Care little of all their perceptions
Unimpressed by all their expressions of me

Idle it all is to my essence

Meanwhile,
I'm glad to be a subject of entertainment
To fill the empty spaces of boredom in their life

I said it before but I’ll say it again
What you speak of others in their absence
Says more about the speaker than the subject

Thank you for being here
NwK

— The End —