Lonely roads, torn up and old.
Steely, but my heart is cold.
Trace my skin with your memories.
Mending fences with my enemies.

Take the time to teach me your fear...
and watch me walk right out of here.
When you learned to love, well, you broke the mold.
When it was my turn,
  I didn’t let it hold.
When it was my turn...
  I didn’t have the hope...
                                for your heart of gold.
python 6d
His best friend was his subconscious
To request an audience with his accomplice
Loneliness he had to accept, alone he was,
I digress. Nevertheless, he kept his pain in silence
Feeling trapped in his own head, like a mental asylum
Instead of unconcealing the sorrow
He kept things unsaid, so his state of mind would remain unread
And would embed the notion that life has stopped dead
And would endlessly pray for a better tomorrow
If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?
If not, is a lonesome man who is crying in pain not exist because no one is around?
The thought of waking up to another day of isolation
Drowning in his misery, he needs help to breathe
Rehabilitation would be as simple as love and attention
To help give this man a life where he can believe
Terry O'Leary Jan 2014
I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(the reasons why you’ll never know),
whisked away in winter’s winds, your sleeping sighs remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Well, I’ve often made my way
within the dark before the day,
but it’s never that I’ve ever felt this lonely.
So I leave this parting note,
the first farewell I ever wrote,
though these lines embody more than farewell only.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n what I’ll find you’ll never know,
concealed in clouds of untamed clover, tussled hair reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Alas, my love has grown too strong
for I’ve lain with you so long
with your every need perceived, though never spoken.
’n as I try to disengage,
I’m like a tiger in a cage,
hesitating ’fore a padlock hanging broken.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(across a bridge you’ll never know),
to quench abandoned burning hills, your yearning lips remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you wake and shed a tear
finding me no longer here,
save your weeping for another, not so ghostly.
’n if you scan the spangled sky,
as you ache when asking why,
realize ’twas really you I wanted mostly.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(reshuffling cards you’ll never know),
defying fate beneath the stars, your diamond eyes remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Shun the shadows in the late
disappearing through your gate,
aghast and groping through their early morning sorrows,
like the echoes of my thought,
flitting, fleeting, overwrought,
as reflected in the realms of vague tomorrows.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n what I’ll see you’ll never know),
pursuing pebbles on a beach, your freckled nose reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you glimpse a troubled form
within a restless ruby storm,
turn your collar 'gainst the wind and never follow.
For by then it’s much too late
(yes the distance far too great)
and you’d only find the feathers of a swallow.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(along a road you’ll never know),
adrift on half-forbidden paths, your slender back reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you yearn once more to tease,
unleash your breath upon a breeze
’n let the whispered winds of yesterday caress me,
and perchance recall the time
(when our love was in its prime),
I relied upon your laughter to possess me.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n it’s so hard you’ll never know),
entwined in twirls of fortune’s wheel, embracing arms remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Once I was yours and you were mine
sipping pearls of purple wine –
except these haunting hints, there’ll be no spectres chasing.
’n if the flashbacks grow acute,
I’ll strum the strings upon my lute
subduing bygone ancient ghosts, still standing, facing.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n what I’ll hear you’ll never know,
though echoed in a thousand drums, your throbbing breasts remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Well, the candle by my side
has now melted down and died,
though its fire blazes on within the mirror.
And the clock behind the door
is throbbing, pounding with a roar,
as my moment to depart approaches nearer.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(along a shore you’ll never know),
engulfed in deep and distant tides, your restless thighs remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

But I’ll take along the ring,
the one you carved for me in spring,
though it journeyed as an orphan on my finger.
And I’ll hang it from my neck
while I tramp a lonesome trek,
as a keepsake of your ardor, while it lingers.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n what I’ll see you’ll never know),
immersed in fields of flowers wild, your amber eyes remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Now I’ll kiss your sleeping eyes
ere I mount the blushing skies
as I bid farewell, adieu, in morning’s splendour.
Then I’ll fade within the haze,
immured in miles of my own maze
as I wander, breaking chains of love’s surrender.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n when I rue you’ll never know
the pulsing passions of the past and shadows that remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
till the phantoms start a’ fading far behind me.
Jared Eli Jun 30
It’s been half-past Forgetting You
And this broken watch goes ticking
A time bomb of its own and now
I’m drinking by myself
I’m drinking by myself

For [x] years now I’ve gotten on
Moving forward like you’re doing
A conveyor belt of feelings
I’m thinking to myself

I’m thinking that
     As we get old and moldy
     Will the rocks remember us?
     Or will they roll forgetting
     That these naked apes once        
      loved?

A quarter ‘til Find Someone New
And this half-wound watch needs fixing
Keeping time all by its lonesome
I’m thinking to myself

I’m thinking that
     As time turns like a turret
     Will it cast its gaze on me?
     Am I small as god is small
     Ubiquitous, forsaken?

Can’t you see? (I’m brand new)
Can’t you see? (I’m reformed)
Can’t you see?
Can’t you see?

I’m thinking that
     As I grow old and ugly
     Will this rock still be my friend?
     Dust and ash and rib I am
     But who will remember that?

I’m thinking that
     As time becomes my comrade
     Will we fight a wicked fight?
     Or will we become traitors
     And destroy ourselves once more?

And it’s half-past Forgetting You
It’s a quarter ‘til Find Someone New
This broken watch keeps ticking on
But I, I have turned off.
really nothing much to say...
except the tree!
I know how the roots take hold,
but we forget the soul,
so when these foul winds blow again
our hands and our hearts in-twain,
and if it's gonna fall down on me
I would rather it fall more like a leaf,
I percieve the plants in pain,
in some sort of way we even spoke.

so much sorrow in the willow
down beside the river's edge,
late at night
you can even hear her cry,
oh my lonesome weary always weeping broken willow,
you should know
you're beautiful.
you're forever

well just the other day
me and this weed
dandelion, I recall
yellow flowers, three feet tall
he was pleading I would spare him from his doom
I never guessed unwanted guest were death obessed,
consumed and stressed by paranaioa never resting
a given life unwanted test
I asked,"what would you do if you were me?"
and he said
Her lips were as brilliant
And luring,
As the cherry of the cigarette
She held between her lips.

I know if I start this dance,
If I travel the path of
The wandering,
lonesome healer,
That it'll lead me to my grave.

But those beautifully colored lips;
The honey coated words
That spill from those sibling dancers
Mounted on to her face...

I'll make her smile for the world to see,
And admire,
And bask in such divine beauty,
Even if it requires
My still beating but long dead heart
Served on a stick
To please the deceiving angel
That stands before me.

— The End —