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September Roses Mar 2018
Little house
Timeless street
Childhood garden

The scent of your preschool playground after a storm on a Wednesday in may

The distinguishable noise of your parents' doorbell

The weepy feeling looking at childhood photos and knowing you'll never get those moments back

The melancholy moment you realize the book you're reading was your favorite bedtime story

The second the atmosphere shifts and you're suddenly thrown back to memories of your mothers embrace on a stormy night

The suffocating feeling of revisiting tales thinning at the ends as your recollection slowly fades

The slipping grip of what once was that will never be again, slowly turning faded and acid washed until its nothing but a feeling you cant put a name to

Nostalgia
September Roses Jul 2018
As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
                            Orders,
                            ­               Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
  Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
     It's sunday's melancholy ploy

    Responsibilities loom overhead
     Our heart as heavy as the air
      The world has now gone silent
              We sit in subtle fear
Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
Lord Jesus, Plower of my heart,
though the darkness descends around me
and heavy moods fall over me,
though the warm feelings of intimacy begin to fade
and encroaching melancholy threatens to set in
like a cold reversal of the winds,
still I will rejoice in Your presence with me,
for You are causing me to press beyond—
beyond the delightful sense of You
and into the delightful assurance of You.

If I know nothing else, I know that You are here,
You are faithful and You love me.
So I will keep clinging to that
when everything else seems to slip
like dust through my fingers
and all hope of good things
in this life grows dim.

I will cling to the promise
that You are clinging to me,
that You’ve got me no matter what,
that You are never leaving or letting go.
For You are the unchanging I AM
in my ever-changing circumstances,
through my ever-shifting emotions,
over my ever-shaking life
and around my ever-feeble heart.

Here is my hand, Lord Jesus.
I put it safely in Yours and trust You
to lead me through this dark night.
Work Your holy, harrowing fingers  
deep into the soil of my heart
until every idol is uprooted,
every stone removed
and every broken place restored.
Thank You, Jesus.
I love You.
~~~

"But He knows the way that I take;
when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold."
~ Job 23:10

"You hem me in behind and before,
    and You lay Your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from Your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from Your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, You are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, You are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there Your hand will guide me,
    Your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,'
even the darkness will not be dark to You;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to You."
~ Psalm 139:5-12

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him,
    and He will make your paths straight."
~ Proverbs 3:5-6

"...because God has said,
'Never will I leave you;
    never will I forsake you.'"
~ Hebrews 13:5b

~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2CpU39tM0c
corpser May 2016
I drink to all the sleepless nights
We spent talking and laughing.
I drink to all the bad memories
We shared on the streets.
I drink to all the sweet words
Whispered beneath our ears.
I drink to all the changes
Brought by the many seasons.
I drink to the two years
And the wicked lies of love.
I drink for the rain
And the never ending night.
I drink to the memory of you
I drink to the memory of what used to be me.
corpser May 2018
The night has been long and it has been as hot as the night before. I’ve been sweating like a pig, sick with a ******* feeling down my throat everytime i swallow my spit. I got up and tried to make myself some tea. One only remembers to drink tea when one is sick.
After squeezing the lemons in, I immediately downed a shot of the thing and felt it punch whatever it was that was swelling in my throat.
When I put it back down I noticed a single dying ant in the table. It has been separated from its colony, and must have fallen off a wall somewhere. I remember  around 5pm or 4pm the afternoon before this, that I had bugsprayed a long line of ants gathering up the kitchen. The weather hasnt been well this time of year and it has been ******* up the natural behavior of ants. The poor ******* probably thought it was going to rain. But it didnt, and the only rain that came for them was death and that rain came from me.
So I thought to myself, if this guy’s been here since 5pm he has been struggling for 10 hours and 50 minutes to live. This is one mighty ant. And giving it a closer look, the ****** was pretty huge for his size as well. It was still alive, willing itself back to existence. Beaten and bloodied but unbowed, it earned my respect.
But there was no way this ant was going to make it back to his colony. Its lower body was not functioning anymore. The only thing he has is his wits and three to four flailing arms. His body cannot contain his will and so, being the better being in the situation I had to put him down.
Squeezed the life and the fight out of him at my fingertips and flung it back to the floor where it has been its whole life.
I took another gulp from the tea I had made but there was no punch in my throat anymore. No scalding hot no stinging sting just the sewage water tasting taste of a tea that has gone cold.
I went back to bed and still the swelling devil in my throat hasnt gone. I will get no sleep tonight of that I am sure. Still, I close my eyes and pretend to sleep.
Diya Aug 2018
I wasn't born
With this hole in my heart
But it developed gradually
When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art.
Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours!
But just then, I was grayed and torn
Just like  withered flowers!
The pain! Yes the pain
Is unbearable
My tears all are in vain
They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable!
I am fed up of emotional breakdown
My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town!
I know, sorrows are part of life
But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife!
I try my best to just forget and move on
But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?
Just in a process of getting relieve from the feeling of being hurt! It's really difficult...
Sorry,my poem sounded somewhat boring but I really meant what I said .
corpser May 2018
The night is **** warm and there are thunderclouds looming in the horizon. Its skies are neatly stained with a *** stain looking stain of clouds, scattered in the yellow moon of 7pm.

I walked past a wake tonight, then a funeral then the graveyard. Im walking out to buy some cigarettes, menthol for my mother and reds for myself.

The night is a ticking time bomb rigged to blow. Like the pulsing ache in my head or the medicine in my mouth waiting to be crushed between my teeth.
Instruction says I should **** on it as long as I can. Says its supposed to relieve the pain.

I fight back the urge to bite. I fight back the urge to do a lot of things.

The ticking timebomb
Does not explode.
writerReader Aug 2015
Ebony wings slide through
the air
i wish i could
fly
Shang Jun 2017
you kept me strung up
like a memory
of the death of someone
you used to love
you used me up
you gave me just
barely enough
to keep me there
as a ghost melting
into the memory of
someone I used to know
© Shang
Aniron Jul 2015
My wandering soul, how it aimlessly dwells
Among darkened hills, amidst its unseen spells,
And in the distance all that I hear: the summoning of bells.
Far above me, the high boughs they are bending,
The once hidden moon now slowly ascending
And as it sings to the world its sleep song,
I sit in its shadow and await my ending.
It's a little melancholy.
You awaken feelings which pang and pull,
A soreness from misuse, feelings full of
Memory.
And I am too old now to follow them through
The way I want to
Jason Drury Oct 2016
Though, should I
or have I begun?

To feel the tussling
Of blurring bodies.

Transforming and dancing,
Through these very halls.

Where aching is thick,
and a embrace is a release.

Should I begin?
How should I begin?

Swallow the dagger,
stabbing from behind.

Let it sit deep in my stomach.
Push it further, where it can’t cut.

Where will it end?
How will I begin?

Under lock and key,
Just where I left it .

It escapes as it did just now,
conjuring a puncture to bone.

Blood flows,
Rushes out into the world.

Is this a release?
How can I heal?*

Pouring out,
It tastes salty on the cheek

The color is dark,
cold to the touch.

Purging the night,
that stained blood black.

Sifting the chill,
of steel from bone.

Ringing out whats left of gore and fluid,
down the drain.

*I can begin now.
This is the end.
Phil B Jul 2017
At times the waves wash ashore
the fragments of a bygone memory,
little bottles in time, nothing more.

The gentle lull draws me closer,
to tears? maybe a smile or two,
submerged, just like my toes are.

Seaweed and shells, sit on sand,
and much like the present,
soon to drift, to unfamiliar lands.

It's cold in rolled up pants and sleeves,
and there isn't much left to see,
but there didn't need to be,
and so ~ I leave.
Composed at the beach.
danahslade99 Aug 2018
Melancholy;
Melt in lands
Unholy
In an abyss of

Harm supressed;
Between two palms pressed
Together.
Remind us we are

Desolate;
Descending to a
Solitary fate
Where days

Gloomy;
Glue me
To my memories
Cold cruelty and

Shame;
An attempt at shadowing
The untamed.
kgl Dec 2014
it's becoming easier
to hear your name and feel nothing.
Head and Heart fought a battle that only ended
when the Heart swelled with a Love that hurt to hold,
until the Head's gentle reminder
that this was not Love,
it was Pain.
blinding Pain.
but like all blows to the body and mind
Time crushes Pain into a dull ache, a numbness remaining
long in the Heart after the feeling has gone.
but the Head holds the knowledge that this was not Love.
it was Pain.
blinding Pain.
and it's becoming easier.
A husk, a shadow,
a memory now weak.
A place to avoid,
a number to delete.
A face to forget,
a life given up.
A name to erase,
etched into your skull.
A myriad of hopes,
to remember as dreams.
A time spent alone
to weaken the seams.

A reason to drink.
A reason to cry.
A reason to laugh.
A reason to lie.
A past to detest,
a loss to accept.
A reason to bruise,
to soften the truth.
An excuse to abuse;
a home, to lose.
David Hutton Jul 2017
The troubles buried deep in past.
Life doesn't look like it will last.
Finding a way-out,
His final check-out.
May the other-side be a contrast.
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