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Adam Childs Aug 2014
Living freely in this world
My vulnerability, feels so lost
As it seeks the skies to escape all
Perched high away and hiding
My heart forsaken
For her vulnerability
Has left her

The little bird has flown

My warm retreating heart lives behind
Many layers of frozen ice
A teardrop falls
As I see the loss potential
Where here my heart should sing
Great jungles it should bring

Come back, come back little bird

I stare into my murky depths
My legs are taken by giant jaws
I twist and turn as he swallows me whole
My standing in the world taken
I merge with this crocodile

Far away a bird twitches

I look out into the outside world
And see the disregard and arrogance
Which fuels my anger like oil on a fire
As they disturb the peace on my pond
May their flesh quiver
With my ancient growl

high above a bird leaves her perch

I am the last living dinosaur
Born from a time when, T.rex ruled
And birds with teeth reigned overhead
And I still live in waters
Where Piranhas seek to
Frenzy on living flesh
Am I to be scared of you

A quiet bird flutters closer

Bring me your contempt
For I am hungry and love rotten meat
And your disregard feeds my fury
so please circle my pond
Where my heart rests softly
With rich and green waters
Bursting and growing in love

A little bird tweets overhead

I will lounge and grab
And you will be blind
And lost in my depths
I will turn you over and
Your arrogance will feed me
Yummy yummy
I slip away from the beast

A little bird perches on his head
Still mistrusting him
For he carries a triumphant smile
As though injected with poison
The little bird says
You know I love you crocodile
But I am still not safe

Disgruntled he returns to his depths
On the inner side of the pond
Faraway he finds me again
Staring into dark waters
As though it could speak
Many times has he watched
Arrogant mammals reach and fall
Coming back consumed with
Pain, rejection and failure
Both looking and hiding from the truth

A bird tweets I LOVE YOU

With both a ferocity and compassion
He pulls me down as a tonne of flesh
Slaps itself ******* this earth
I twist and turn as I struggle
With my own truth
As he rips my pride off the bone
Be aware of my tongue for it is
Possessed by a crocodile's lashing tail

I really Love you the bird cries

The beast feasts on my bitter truth
And sour reality, I am not
Strong enough to take
And spits out the sweet lies
That keep me from myself
As he pulls me down into my own depths
Such a beautiful beast
For he feels no need to evolve
Perfect as I am he says
As it fills me with his power
To be exactly who I am
How I love this Crocodile

A bird approaches

My heart free from noise
Inside and out
A silence nestles in me
And all innocence is seen
Beautiful souls float freely
Butterflies dance and play
As all is gentle around me
And especially in me

And my beautiful vulnerability
Now returns in sweet song
As the bird rests softly in my jaw
A strange paradox becomes so very clear
With a little bird we hold so dear
This is my second effort as soon as I wrote the first one I was not happy with it as it was not clear enough what was dealing with the subjective and the objective hopefully there is greater balance in this attempt . Let me know if it works
vircapio gale Feb 2013
i hope, i try to hope
--to believe--
believe me, i try
to trust in trust i think i feel, or think or know
there isn't any code that satisfies
though maybe there's an uber-uber-ultra-meta code beyond what even codes can mean?
meh.
i enjoy the hypothetical,
Paris in a bottle, fairness for all sentient beings, faith in nothing comprehensible,
an English teapot circles Jove from afar
or all that's uncontrollable, for some all-purpose good to decorate the brackish, ocean truth.
and uncertain science is another case,
mistrusting all, testing daring thoughts with razor sight,
to sharpen speech and challenge all
to flex the truth into a fitness ground on which to stand, objective stern
and method doubt to peer and scan the detail bare, denude minutiae
into ever smaller parts, expanse of raw and empty space attuned,
to vibrant nothingness rebound
muons, gluons, tauons, quarks and bosons --Higgs the boon for popular appeal,
to bridge or monumentalize the science-mystic gap
appall the ghosts that Galileo keeps for company
i enjoy the fantasy,
dragons in a flask, perfect love for all, dancing in the dark in joy regardless of the shutter thicken dust
kgl Jun 2013
swallowing her aching pride with every step she takes
trying to forget, although her lonely heart it breaks
her everlasting hatred for the man who left a void
in her world, forever shifting, unprepared to be destroyed
her eyes, once glistening jewels turned to a bleak mistrusting stare
their depths expose the scars left by a man who did not care.

remembering the pain, the fearsome look within his eyes
the man she thought she loved became the monster she despised
her worthlessness confirmed with every single blow he dealt
the hurt within her heart was numb, the physical she felt
a horrifying calamity, some days she wished to die
the violent mental thoughts left by a man who made her cry

haunted by his judgments, heartless words rang in her ears
whilst her soul was crushed she never let him see her tears
a sordid satisfaction from the misery he saw
from the woman who adored him as he broke her to the core
but then it reached a point where though her self-belief was wrecked
the words that once were daggers suddenly had no effect

no longer did his voice destroy the stillness in her mind
her time was not yet over; she could leave it all behind
a woman who had suffered for so long, without a voice
decided for herself she had the right to make a choice
the bruises that imprinted, purple wounds left on her skin
she’d escape the hell he’d made her, filled with violence and sin

her eyes cold windows to her heart, devoid of such emotion
a stranger to a reckless love of honest plain devotion
her body bears the evidence, her mind is crystal clear
forget about the hatred and keep close what you hold dear
while repulsion made her weary, she stood still and bit her tongue
no longer wept for what once was, the man who made her strong.
Joy Zellers Jul 2014
Pondering if I can be forgiven and free
Knowing I deserve to be drowned in the sea
Searching for something to assuage the pain
Hoping out of this something beautiful I gain.

Mistrusting of people around me everywhere
People only curse; not love, not care
Bewildered why I must go through life alone
With paralyzing silence and no friend to phone.

Yearning to break free of my destructive addictions
Rebuking Satan's false and furtive jurisdictions
I embrace the crucifixion and fall to my knee
Beholding my King who died to set me free.

Then kneeling at the cross, the sky breaks with dawn
My tears and my pain are surprisingly gone
As the Son bursts forth in glorious light
Obliterating the dark and malevolent night.
A poem I wrote a few months ago when I was growing through a struggle; I never gave up hope and I got through it :)
If you're struggling, don't give up. Never lose faith. Every trial you come out of only makes you stronger. It'll be ok ;)
Leonard Green Jul 2013
Round 1: New Life
Entered abruptly, this world out of the caretaker’s womb
astonished by the awe of unusual surroundings
so unlike the comfort of the nine month pacifier
images fade in, then out, and in, then out once again
feel this empty sensation, deep inside the belly
initially a murmur, then a monstrous growl
shall this need drive the emerging beast…

Round 2: Survive
Astounded still, by the incentives from the senses
nonetheless, comprehension builds mostly from stumbling
and the consequences of actions may honor or condemn
imitating and discovering, touching and tasting, the wants
hear this curious whisper, deep inside the mind
initially a hum, then a vicarious voice
shall this be the song of a destined course…

Round 3: First Love
Twinkled eyes, with the melody of hypnotizing admiration
wanting so fierce, the heart skips several beats
beauty so pure and deep, the skin becomes totally immaterial
can’t eat, can’t sleep, want to caress this haunting dream
but wait, maybe the feelings lack mutual perception
then to experience the piercing silence of rejection
shall this fear define the character…

Round 4: Nuptials
Exchanged vows, two mates to share eternity as one soul
to nurture one another with the food of selfless care
instead, demons from the spirit’s dark side arose
mistrusting and abusing, suffocating and killing, the love
no room, no place for compassion and understanding
only the refuge for a hollowed indifference
shall this be the start of a fragile heart…

Round 5: Bounce Back**
Continued hope, for the chance to champion a cause
to humbly honor the truth in self and in others
reckless to the tangible constraints weighing on the mind
to decease, to desist, the will to life’s tribulations
the blows come and go, a jab here, a jab there
striking with unforeseen yet uncanny precision
shall this bell ring in the final round…
refresh mesh May 2015
my story starts in North Carolina morning at 5:32
where I was excavated from my mother's womb
2 weeks past due
and immediately taken to an emergency room
because of a minor disfigurement called
ulnar polydactyly
where they laid me down and cut flesh & bone away

value your days and spin on a tire
at the bottom of a tree, twist the rope.
cut away any fray and pickle your desire
it's not a noose, it's not your hope.

i was born differently than peaks explained
i was told medical bills were a blessing obtained
so that my fingers would not continue to grow
so that fortunately, none of us will ever know
where those bitty bits would want to go
where would I go?
if I hadn't been bound
by what I hadn't contained?

how do parents agree to cosmetic surgery on their newborns?

don't they feel sick?

when my mother explained why i had these scars
She didn't ask how they felt on my hands.
and when my father kissed the bumps crunched on cars
He insisted that I had intact, normal, nerve strands.
But I could feel phantom fingers
and devil horns

don't they feel sick?

now I spend every day
chewing all the rest away
Now I count months and men
Men, who will cut their brood out of their only mate
to slice off any disfigurements and hold its jaw in place
then ball those hands in fists so her fingers can rest in peace

please
Listen when I ask for help
don't Give up on my body, just
cut the hearts of those playing God, for
anything Or anyone can happen to a newborn child, or
else, not again, it's
off, not again, not
today, not again.

I'm 6 years old, alone and terribly
glad to be awake
free of the villain that I’d been
free to make
Chunky animated evil clouds and monsters
with human names
mistrusting my family from the
earliest days
imagining my parents were zipped up
in skin resembling mine
their starchy air force uniforms
finding me everytime
Then my baby brother was on time, cooked just right,
born perfectly
When I found out about his circumcision I stopped
feeling sisterly

Why were my sweet, placid parents so surprised by us?
Keeping their secrets and distance from us.
Give us the answers, show us history!
why take me to Sunday School if you
won't sit through all of it with me?

there is nothing more disturbing than weekly church hopping.
there is so much to fear if we do not plan on ever stopping.
when I look for friends
i do so excitedly
looking for their ailments
and finger ******.
wondering who else
is in horror
of their size,
of their capacity.

"Look at these baby spiders in our garden,
Look, momma. They're so tiny.
The pumpkin nearly squished-
There's a centipede!" I'd be whining.
But, oh,
It's gross. I hear "eww" and "oh my god" and
"throw it away, bugs belong outside!"
I can do that. We all belong outside. I can do that.

From Santa Monica to Rapid City
I turned 8 and avoided depression
I plagued every single bookstore with
my ridiculous obsession:
ecology
Tornadoes, forests, food chains and chemistry
already fascinated me

I loved that;
the atmosphere of creation.
Shapes alive
with Movement and
centrifugal Force,
stopping motion, Pressure,
inertia and Speed.

I studied
legs. I watched the
long propelling jumpers, the
tool-like structures, of
insect tarsal claws, and
the spurs like knives.

Then aquatic mammals came to me
Where I first learned about ***:
the whale's hip bone, a mystery.
To the history of earth, it was
Big males, powerful females.
and evolution seemed to be the cause.

Then arboreal anthropods,
Where I first asked about distribution,
toes and fingers,
and counted
on hand
the numbers
and suddenly
deplored extinction.

It was a hot knife in my belly that never went away
I want to ask their god all the questions that besot me
why did they agree (twice!) to cut away that which is not rotting?
If DNA is best selected among genetic diversity, why must we all look and feel the same?
Blanching at any difference, hating on new names.

is it such a disaster
to expect variation from your master?
why are 2 extra phalanges
such ******* calamities?
Why do we observe differences
as an excuse to mutilate newborn babies?
Americans slice ******* off intact baby boys
Americans slice ******* off intact baby boys

A doctor deemed my extensions useless
but left me my brain and heart
which began to terrorize me
from the very simple start

I dreamed of all of us:
scary islands with giant magical
flowering
who was poisonous
to the population of anyone and
anything
who was dangerous
printing off the battle plan which was
escaping
Yes, I dreamed of all of us
Where is my gold star and my participation trophy
At low of night she strokes
Familiar tastes exquisite,
And quietly invokes
The spirit of laureate --

An orphic instrument
Unfit to take for granted.
It’s profound atonement
Stirs in her heart despondent.

Her fragile shell’s embrace
Of wood and gut and metal
Point out her shallow race
And weakness fundamental.

Yet all the night she moils,
Mistrusting augmentation,
And secretly despoils
The overzealous beacon.

-- Kerry Herrmann
I am a violinist and wrote this poem to express the emotional connection I have with my violin and with my practice. I practice at night, usually until 2 or 3 am. It is a very intimate experience practicing when the rest of the world is quiet.
Zachary William Jun 2018
Fool me once
Shame on me
Fool me twice
And leave me with scars
forever unhealed
Fenix Flight Jan 2016
Your plane is boarding, got to cross the ocean all alone
My heart is stone
You need to figure out the things that plague you here at home
I'll carry on

Sometimes, it's one thing
And next time, it's nothing
It's more than mistrusting
It ends up just crushing me

Stop with the fighting
I know it's the right thing
I won't let you do this
We have to get through this

So, say something, I'm not holding back
Before the scene we made goes and fades to black
‘cause I can't wait while you think this through
We don't have endless time, remember who left who
‘cause I won't wait, won't wait for you

Your lifeless eyes don't hold the
Same desire anymore, I can't ignore
So long I've wondered, but I think now I know
You're not coming home

Sometimes, it's one thing
And next time, it's nothing
It's more than mistrusting
It ends up just crushing me

Stop with the fighting
I know it's the right thing
I won't let you do this
We have to get through this

So, say something, I'm not holding back
Before the scene we made goes and fades to black
‘Cause I can't wait while you think this through
We don't have endless time, remember who left who
‘Cause I won't wait, won't wait for you

Put my heart in your hands
Committed my whole life to you
And all you had to say
See you in a few days
But days turn into months
This isn't what you promised me
I've gotta let you go
Or just find another way

So, say something, I'm not holding back
(I needed time to work it out alone)
THIS SONG IS BY ALL THAT REMAINS! All rights belong to them


(This is the song I dedicated to my ex Matt, It has helped me through this break up a lot)
Christos Rigakos Jul 2012
she barged so uninvited in my space,
so futile were my palms and outstretched arms,
forbidding her from entering my place,
mistrusting her that she may bring me harm,

rebuttals--counterpunches to my claims
that she was just another soulless ghost--
had penetrated fences, and her aims
to win my heart succeeded more than most,

but here we are almost a year from then,
i've pushed her off, she shares her heart with one
not me, but one who seems above all men,
and i have lost where once i thought i'd won,

now i'm the one who's barging in her space,
my own rebuttals falling in disgrace

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
English (Shakespearean) Sonnet
Alexis Ingram Jun 2018
Each scar on my wrist has a name, but to keep it secret I’ll list them as letters to avoid giving them the fame:

Q- Quivering lips didn’t keep you from taking my innocence. The horrible sound of my legs clenched and pants unzipped.

D- Depression ruled your life and slowly taught mine the only way to feel is to feel nothing more than unreal.  

Z- Zombified eyes made me realize you only wanted what was between my thighs. Objectified and used, it didn’t matter to you.

R- Robbed my heart of just about everything. Unfaithfulness and lack of loyalty led to my mistrusting.  

A- Aggression isn’t a sign of affection. To pretend is a hard act but to defend is even harder.

These are the five people that led me to scar, and if they read this, they would know exactly who they are.
Bella Isaacs Feb 18
Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
Came I hither with all the wisdom gain'd,
Came I hither with all the truth and jest,
Beauty, health, kindness, luck, thou'd'st have complain'd
That I came hither with an underhand
Desire of something greater thus exchang'd,
Unable to conceive or understand
How one who offers free is not derang'd.

Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
And came I bearing rubies and pearls, too,
Came I hither bearing all the rest
To thine own mortal self, still erring true;
Came I hither, and ask'd nothing, giving
All that I have, and more, and still I err,
For the Lord ask'd nothing of the living,
But sacrifice is matter of a cur.

Mistrusting as you do, with sense, I see,
Love's made not for this world, nor I for thee.
A man of this life
knows his story
too well,
he walks the streets
leg one leg two
at just the right speed:
moving at a glide
because it's gray outside,
the frozen tide
of the open cut concrete
is hard underneath
the soles of his worn shoes,
they hold a pair of dart like feet
that walk through
the jagged edges and
changing pathways,
talking in tongues
about lurid destinies
of lacking destination,
a babbling that never reaches an ending,
the two are crooked and bleeding
but they always keep
through this crowded street
that the man
in the palm of his right hand
has learned to hold
a “hello” for,
stretching far from his arm
it is quiet and scared,
so often invisible
but hoping,
not hopeful,
that someone will see
beneath its creased,
mistrusting,
bare naked and often mistaken
surface,
but with it
is a perfect fist
strapped like a puppet
to this tacit brother
in the man's
left pocket,
fingerless and mastered
to smash into bits
what may be caught
by the other cupped misfit,
whether friend or enemy
they are always mistaken,
so the beating
makes them scream
in victory,
horrendously and
harmoniously sprayed
in the liquids leaving
Whatever's seam,
“whatever”
they seem,
thoughtless of the backlash
only meant for the brain,
it solely knows and
takes the blame
for the horrid red stain,
trying to love
when the brother
habitually
frames the other
into maiming
another
who is all alone
DON'T!
it wants to re-aim
the darts
that leave
on pavement
straight for misleading paths
WAIT!
It planned to create
a noose for the unstable
connections between
those lost A's and
the angry B
and that fretful C but
ANY!
Thing can happen, and
ANY!
thing will,
ANY!
One
would really help,
and now there's not much
LONGER!
Till you truly understand,
The very end is very close
for that man - he is ******.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2019
Do You Bore Yourself?

Do you rent the space
you’re standing in,
owning nothing in the end
but default?

Do you recycle words
until their utterance fails,
mistrusting your ability
to say what’s right?

Do you hedge your bets,
never going all in
for fear of losing the very thing
you haven’t got?

Do you count the days,
as tedium destroys spontaneity
and all energy drains
from your lifeless form?

Do You Bore Yourself?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Mitchell Jul 2011
Soft heavy shade of unrelenting mischevious boredom
Killing off the weak of our youth
Plauging the soft minded soft handed rich pocketed crickets of the Earth
Sounding off from a siren that is coated in oil
In blood
In computer symetry that if shown to a child
Would just begin to cry
Have you no souls?
Have you no heart underneath that starched shirt?
Where in ourselves is the need to **** oneself
Off like that?
Winding away the hours spending earning balancing mistrusting
Saying that one is learning but towards what?
Ignorance is not bliss but a black corner that one is now blinded by
The shadow drawings are illuminated and cause glee
But the shadow makers are the evil ones
Men and women behind dashes of black ink
Memo books scribbled through every line
Tucked away for absolute Americanized security
America...how has our trust faltered so far and so fast?
Will we will gain it back?...
America...
Are you there?
winter sakuras Feb 2018
I T
As the years pass, a part of its mind wonders what will
become of it.
A bystander forced to be a part of life's hectic,
unfair, and demanding ways.
A thing with no wits to fight out drawn, incriminating,
and unnecessary battles.
A speck of quiet darkness in the false, bright shine
of a store bought sun.
An organism desperately trying to blend into a crowd
where it  d o e s   n o t   b e l o n g.
(And never will.)
A piece of emotion attached to a living being, forcing it to
give a care about things that never last in its soul.
Too many feelings gone ignored,
Too many words left unsaid,
Too many expressions left misinterpreted,
Too many moments passing by in sunken tears.
Too many hands held out,
asking for things the organism does not know
how to give.
Too many demands made for
a piece of light that is being extinguished with time
and a mind drowning in pity and sorrow.
It is dazed and alone in a crowd of people
(no one to call to)
and watched under mistrusting eyes
at a place it is forced to call home.
It will gaze at a screen and bathe in falseness
for hours, just to scrape away the consciousness
of misery on its skin.
But every now and then, it must write incriminating
truths about a mind spiraling out of the light
to keep sane.  
(better to write than to harm others)
It has trouble smiling now, as its face melts and distorts
into crumpled pathetic excuses of expressions.
It stutters and leaves gaping black empty spaces, trying
to conjure up words that would seem  n o r m a l.
It would like to at any moment, break into a run
and feel its feet pound the cracked, gray pavement of the sidewalk
because anything would be better than having to
feel its mind breaking instead.
It would like to, at least once,
be able to dance without a flipping care over the
insecurities of its bent and oddly shaped body
and hands.
It would like to, at least once,
write without having its words prodded and graded and stripped down
and misinterpreted of their actual bare meanings.
It would like to, at least once,
live and smile and laugh and love
(yes, it quite loves to  l o v e)
without being judged or ordered about, without being
compared or displayed or placed on the limits of
people's ignorance and relentlessness in being at the best
at being the worst.
It would like to, at least once,
swim the waters of the vast ocean's life with the grace
and smoothness of a mermaid,
rather than struggle to keep its drowning head held above
dark, oily waters of bitterness and tears.
It would like to, at least once,
be kind enough to fly among sunset stained clouds in a peach horizon
and twinkle among the evening diamond stars,
rather than be ugly enough to no longer even be considered human,
taking on the form of a mere, existing  I T.
02/27/18
Timothy H Oct 2016
my mistrusting eyes
throw stones
undeservingly in your direction
they're from
an old case
that should have been dropped
years ago
why i haven't been capable
of shaking it off
im not entirely sure
but no matter
you seem entirely capable
of doing so for me
Pepper Smith Feb 2020
Born,
Under a silent indigo sky,
In the shadow of the forest,
On the shore of the Pacific Ocean,
Born from the bones of earth,
Voice from the wind and deep sea,
Crowned an eagle feather and fire.

My bird spirit asked me to believe, messages only meant for me —
“Journey to the golden sun,
Meet the shadow,
Save your child,
Become one.”

“From a sea of blood,
A monster will rise,
Unleashing a storm beneath the surface of your skin.
Growing tired and weary,
Mistrusting winds pushing you forward,
Fighting against currents,
Allow the grey skinned creature to carry you to an unknown shore.”

Born,
A warrior,
Gifted a life determined to confront darkness,
Wisdom and medicine to heal tribes,
Power to embrace death and love,
The slayer of monsters,
Child of the golden sun,
I am one.
Dream Fisher Dec 2019
Grab my hand for a minute,
I'm ready to rip you into my element.
You want to dance, here's a chance,
Sweep the bones from the floor
Skeletons galore, oh I'm sorry.
You don't want to be here anymore?
That's a shame I locked the door
Lit the fire at my very core.
Welcome to my mental house
Let's venture in a little more.

Look at the walls, they're crumbling
Look down the hall, more nothing.
My head is busting, imagination rusting,
Haven't been dusting, confidence mistrusting.
I tell myself that I can make it
But every part of my life, I fake it.
Stuck in work, passion unawakened.
Oh wait, it's this talk, let's inflate it:
"It's really great you still write, Ryan.
I truly mean it, I don't read it.
I'm glad you're still trying after a decade,
Still laying your soul for all to see,
You must really believe in that hobby
I'd have been stopping a long time ago
Anyway, that's great for you."
Thanks for the encouragement, ******* too.

Let's go to my bedroom where the day starts
I've spent most my time in this part
Too angry at the cards birth dealt
Every day I wake up seeing that hearse
Feeling cursed, suffocation hurts,
Couldn't swallow so I thirst.
Get the adrenaline pen again,
Inject, inject, keep it flowing,
Keep him going, blue skin showing,
No one knowing that mental tolling
Like the tides I just keep flowing.

I get a queer eye for trying to help,
Most get their rocks off for hurting someone else.
I'm a ***** up, so I recognize that pain
But I'm looking to help others from going insane.
I'm not narcissistic, more masochistic,
Self-sadistic, lost myself, where is it?
No one wants to stay and play
So I guess I'll just keep this house locked away.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2021
California loses its finest citizens
…acceptable losses

America loses its drug riddled youth
…acceptable losses

Texas loses its southern border
…acceptable losses

Our manufacturing base auctioned away
…acceptable losses

Native Peoples crying on reservations
…acceptable losses

The electorate abandoned and sold down the drain
…acceptable losses

Our finest and bravest fighting forever wars
…acceptable losses

Our schools now a swamp and our teachers inept
…acceptable losses

We talk to our smart phones and lose all connection
…acceptable losses

Our churches and synagogues bombed and attacked
…acceptable losses

Our freedom of speech now woke and maligned
…acceptable losses

The media profiting from rancor and division
…acceptable losses

Our allies mistrusting and looking askance
…acceptable losses

The dollar a symbol of greed and decay
…acceptable losses

The White House held captive by liars and fools
…acceptable losses

Our forefathers rage in eternities sleep
…acceptable losses

All shared common values rejected forever
…acceptable losses

A world without freedom leading the way
…our future in ashes

(The New Room: March, 2021)
Jane Aug 2020
Childhood chants for childish ways
Misbehaviour, misdemeanor
Nothing permanent no new stains
Visible to the naked eye, anyway

Minds play tricks, what a treat
Mistrusting, misunderstanding
Brain's concoctions can't imagine
Attention isn't worth these pains

What goes up must come down
Misremember, misbegotten
Lies, pretense, silly fancies
Self doubt sees the stalwart slain

- Questioning my insanity, a double-edged gaslight burns me at both ends but I no longer feel the flame
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2018
Do you bore yourself?

Do you rent the space
You’re standing in
Owning nothing
But default?

Do you recycle words
Until their utterance fails
Mistrusting your ability
To judge what’s right?

Do you hedge your bets
Never going all in
For fear of losing the very thing
You haven’t got?

Do you count the days
As tedium destroys spontaneity
And all energy drains
From your lifeless form?

Do you bore yourself?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

— The End —