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patty m Jul 2018
Beyond the reef
                     in crackling amber
the sun rises above the earth,
                     kissing river beds strewn with lovers

Passed mouth to mouth they whisper innuendo
the possibility of  living *******.
Bobbing bodies mimic boats on waves
and soon delirium penetrates a new country.

Heat and fire flare in bandied breeze
                          igniting insatiable shadow;
Pure and venial, the air incarnate
excites the ocean and ****** sing.

The quivering above ground
slithers silkily spilling watercolor rhapsody,
                         in a gush of white a fertile tsunami
reeks reckless abandon.   Once by moonlight,
they rubbed sleep from eyes, hugging hurt
as they clamored high in ghostly pallor.
Some leading the dance, hungered for knowledge,
others played shadowy roles.
Yet wafting still, comes the foreign fragrance,
fragments of spirituality,  a longing to touch,
as abundance rolls in shorelines green.
                         Offered mercies, fragile as wings,
shades of truth cascading like water, breathless
in sensual splash;
                       how tremulous
                       the image of truth,
                       the threshold of tomorrow.
Lewis Hyden Dec 2018
A pale green Siren
With fair skin, and the distant
Aroma of coffee beans...

Behind her, a broad,
White-bearded old man
Grinning, stares through my head...

And above, the dull hum
Of an apple, a single bite missing,
Penetrates me with its glare...

My eyes sting with tears.

It's almost like they need
To force us to be human.
A poem about advertising.
#30 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
J Christmas Aug 2011
I shall love diners after Death
                 Famished from a million mile trek
                           Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
                                    All in time and in step
                                             Effervescent  in its antiquity
          Light penetrates the vociferate soul
                    A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
                             casting no shadows
                                  back, at last, back to the harmony &
                                 surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
                                   no more hours to waste away
                            nothing to signifying  
                                            night from day
                 no need to search for words to convey
                  As we began we return just as we should
                   our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
                                            with No judgment charged upon us
                                         with no reward for the good
                                     neither condemned are the noxious
                                 immoral nor the many many absurd
               For those deleterious malignant calamities
                    must remain incarcerated on Earth
                              from whence it came
                               As we Return once again
                                         soul cleansed in beatific death
                                                The physical abandoned with sin
                        The dead left unknown,
un birthed
Shut in
John Deryck Christmas copyright 2011
Tammy M Darby Nov 2013
The emotions of a human
Can be lightly
Played and strummed
It can resemble the steady beat of a heart
The sound cannot be replicated
Repeated or duplicated
Once the disturbing melody starts

The highest strings
Penetrates the mind
Representing the sadness and anxiety
For now you are quite alone
The shrillness will increase in strength
But will remain dark in tone

The lower strings
They are the loss of hope
Relaying disillusion
These strings are taut
Specifically for you
In my composition
I will most certainly use them

To complete my vengeful melodies
The strands I pluck and choose
Shall be your life's situation
For you, my sly one are the harp
And I am the musician

I strum the strings one by one
In a familiar rhythm, you know
I am smiling at your rapid demise
As your heart implodes silently and slow

I will continue to play you
Throughout your life
My tunes filled with retribution
Have no doubt
We both know it is true
You are the harp
And I am the musician

The strange and eerie song I play
Notes chose for their intent
For all the damage you have caused my dear
The strings I choose will represent

Now I perform this song
For your blackened soul
Upon which there will be many lesions
Till the echoes of this music
Shall drive you into madness
For you are the harp my darling
I am the musician


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
Terry O'Leary Aug 2014
The darkness, now descending, floods the city as it dies
while shadows lurk in legions 'neath the looming Evil Eye.
Its frozen stare envelops all, it penetrates and pries,
denouncing loathed dissenters to the keepers in the sky.

One’s inner thoughts are well descried before they’ve passed one’s lips
and cruelly crushed with grim contempt twixt despots’ fingertips;
but if no taboo-idea’s found, with which to come to grips,
the stymied Eye dispenses pus as fabrication drips.

The Eye peers down upon us now, to conquer and control,
and mark our every movement, whether hiding in a hole
or preening like a purple parrot perched upon a pole.
Our welfare and our happiness? No, certainly not the goal.

While phantoms fade, then reappear within the urban sprawl,
the gloom (adorned with Evil Eyes which pierce the livid pall)
pervades the ache and agony that poets sometimes scrawl
of plenitude to penury, how life endures the fall.

And should the herd dare whisper words of freedom's fragrant bloom
or murmur sighs of worriment at earth's impending doom,
the Evil Eye will squint a bit at those who so presume,
condemning nascent unchained thoughts to wither in the womb.

The Evil Eye bores everywhere, a tattletale to Kings,
who scrutinize their puppet people, strumming on their strings,
extracting secrets of their souls like spiders plucking wings
that flutter with the hangman’s knot as the corpse of freedom swings.

Yes, Princes rule with tungsten fists wherever they may roam
and sip from golden goblets, nectar, sweet as honeycomb
while peons (stripped of mind and soul) stray never far from home,
with faces 'neath the iron boot, ****** deep below the loam.

And peasants pass, parading by to fill the golden urn
with pennies for the afterlife wherefore the faithful yearn,
though screams of babes with empty eyes are never of concern
to those who covet silver coins, eyes cold and taciturn.

To hide the pains of purgatory, far-flung distant shores
(on islands of containment) cache the dingy dungeon doors
and inquisition water-boards that buoy their holy wars,
while sandmen drape our eyes with dust, with rainbow metaphors.

We’ll know the party's over when there's little left to eat
and all the learned scholars, lean, stay silent when they meet -
the Eye, withal, will spawn distrust on matters indiscreet.
The signs are all around us - even sheep no longer bleat.

                        Epilogue
One sightless seer scans the skies and mourns the heretofore.
Nine limbless men descend the stairs to find there is no floor.
Eight tongueless women babble, telling tales of nevermore.
Four earless children drown within the ocean's muted roar.

When hope becomes defiance, ask: Will bedlam soon arrive?
Will doves appear above us all? Or drones to guard the hive
while fed with milk and honey by the Queen and kept alive
to gut the gale below them? Will we let the Eye survive?
Grace Sjolander Oct 2016
My Anxiety is a parasite
Living inside my head,
Feeding off of every thought I have
In a hope to prevail.

He makes me feel sick,
Much as a parasite would.
He changes me,
Reverses me
Into something I do not wish to be.

He consumes me,
Uses me.
He uses me in a way
No girl ever wants to be used,
Screams at me,
Nullifies every positive thought I have.

He controls my everything.
Constantly lifts my fingers,
Slams them into any surface,
In a hope to hinder me
And leave me distracted.

He leaves me useless.
The desire to wither away
Into a small cloud of dust
Penetrates my mind
With every pulsing heartbeat.

My Anxiety
Is best friends with My Depression.
They skip
Through the meadows of my memories,
Holding hands and destroying,
Ripping out the flowers of my past.
if you post this somewhere, please credit me :) thanks <3
Galaxy gardener sailing a ship,
through endless horizons it makes a trip.
She/he looks into the inky canvas blend,
then scatters some seeds in the spacial rend.
What does await this brave lovely soul,
when we see the universe's gears roll.

Ionizing radiation penetrates through,
while watering can always holds true.
Space turf gingerly shovelled over seeds,
her/his forehead adorned with water beads.
Nitrogenous nutrients now nuzzled into,
the serene slumbering seedlings to be.

Galaxy gardener greets growing greens,
lively lushscious leaves forward leans.
Wormhole worn star systems she/he fixes up,
as does she/he proudly prune her/his wondrous crop.
Many a plant has grown under her/his care,
yet she/he never feasts on the fruits they bear.
Teacher's Day 2018, dedicated to all the teachers who've guided me thus far.
Lana Leandoer Jun 2016
L
He possesses my body.
My thighs crave his hands
and my fingers long for his ***** hair.
He is not good to me.
He penetrates dozens of other females.
He ***** them, but we make love.
My body has shaped itself so he fits perfectly inside.
His DNA lingers on my skin and I can still taste him on my tongue.
I don't think I love him but
It sure does feel like love oh my
it sure does feel like love.
Traces of our kids have sunken into my skin.
Mommy loves you.
Toffee eyes capture the attention of my midnight, tear drenched ones.
How can he experience this with others?
How can he stroke and kiss and *** with them,
when they are not me?
I am special;
I am loved by him
and he
is loved
by me.
Sobbingsoul Jan 24
Your light
Penetrates me
Reaches my heart
Opening the petals
Of love
flowing through
My veins
Letting the darkness
Vanish
Unveiling me up
More and more
Opening
Heavenly door

©️Sobbingsoul
Azaria Jun 2018
when i'm high
i can taste the
hand-churned
milk
and blood
from the animals that
had to sacrifice for this
how come when i'm
high
i can remember all the
things it hurts to remember
your face when you're high
and that little dance you
do when you're being
playful
your laughter penetrates
my skin
how i used to
(still/)love the taste of you
existing
high confessions pt.2
Pyrrha Sep 2018
Carefully the needle penetrates into my skin
With every new puncture the thread follows along

In and out again and again
Till it reaches the end and finally
A harsh pull, a few tugs

Then the string is snipped free at last
Its been completely sewn shut

Only after you closed me up
Did you ask me how my day was
How I was feeling

But what could I say
With my mouth sewn shut?
M Solav Sep 2018
Oh it's all hanging threads,
Hanging ligaments with drops of red:
Vines without poles - flesh without bones.

Events roll out in scarlatine flashes:
Eyes in crowd flap down their eyelashes
And in silence the suspense grows strong;

The bricks are set, the façade is over,
But from within, the house still lacks a structure:
One penetrates rooms without walls.

A memory from the depth is brought up,
A storyline used to link so many dispersed dots:
Leaves are flying free as the childhood tree rots...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging sources, hanging roots:
Scars over the sun revolving in loops.

And the conduit narrows down,
Leaks a single bolt of light to glow:
An empty room as throne and crown

And a thorn, pain escaping death,
A frown of estrangement in the face
Of all that's known - what's most unknown.

Spectators stare deceptively
While promises of relief are spared;
They too are suspended in the air...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging loose, hanging dead;
Waiting for the artisan to ease the noose.
Written in October 2017.
Oh, you are a treasure
for which I would give all I own.
Oh, how you are more to me
than the wealth of this entire universe
with its world upon world.
Oh, you are a living love song
that captivates my heart
and carries me away with its haunting melody.
Oh, how I love you sweet angel
and though I had a thousand tongues
I could never tell of this endless longing
that burns in my soul.
Oh, your face and form
has set my heart aflame
with a love that grows ever and ever deeper
and is more than my mortal frame can hold
and I seem to be torn asunder
ripping and tearing away flesh and bone.
Oh, how your deep mystic beauty carries me away
with your dark rolling eyes
that penetrates all the depths of my soul
and makes me forever yours. Oh, to bliss or woe!
Oh, your hair like dark black velvet silk
sends such an ache and pain into my soul
that says, " I must have your love or I shall die!"
Oh, I am jealous of your love!
Oh, how I am jealous for your love!!
My mind is filled with such wild imaginings
of all the things that can steal you away!
And fills my heart with such painful foreboding.
Oh, you are a love song written by God upon human flesh
and Oh, how you tempt and tantalize my heart
that is ever lost to you!
Though you ever think me a fool or an man insane.
Oh, then I am forever condemned an insane fool!!
As you tear and pluck at my heart
and I am laid waste
and become a man of shadows
that must forever live in the darkness of my heart
If you tear your heart from me.
If love there ever be.
Oh, I am run through and through as with a sword
and am slain and lie prostrate and dead.
Oh, how when you speak to me
or give your brief nod or consent
you fill me with such delight.
Oh, of you no angel can sing
for your charms are deeper and wider than the sea.
Oh, let me live in your garden of delight
as time spins in its swift flight
and we pass our endless days
upon eternities shore
and bind our hearts together forever more.
beauty is born
torn and tired
tirelessly turning 
into itself
she unfurls 
her long and shapely legs 
like a chain of
tibetan prayer-flags
waving to the Sun
immediately she begins 
to stage the play
that penetrates the heart 
with strong arms
and a silken mane 
the color of sea-spray 
her neck is the foam filled ocean 
and her ******* 
are coral reefs that protect
the polyps that cluster 
in her unfathomable depths 

modern day education
is beyond biased 
and most definitely broken
impermanent knots 
are haphazardly tied
to bind the minds
of dancing children
short-term memory
instigates a fleeting vision
some call it autism 
others prefer anarchy
a fear of growth 
or is it really indecision
that when you can no longer respond 
to life's most pertinent questions
with anything other 
than no thank you
eventually every syllable uttered 
becomes the stuttered sound 
of overly clichéd ambivalence
that frequently masks 
itself as wisdom


despite our higher self's 
best wishes
such limitless awareness
our very own bodhichitta
slowly becomes 
an interminable trickster
also known as Ego 
which incessantly repeats

phrases like 
i’ve earned these blessings
i've learned these lessons
aeons ago
therefore it is best to
meditate and inspect one's thoughts
on a daily basis
before all these shadows 
have a chance to grow and become
funeral wreaths
still the ego says
oh what fun it is to look at
the shimmering shawls strewn 
haphazardly like wedding veils
upon our watery souls
as if you and I were a couple of
Jackson ******* paintings


to heat the flame
inside the
limitless
space of your soul
you cannot
deny your heart
the swamps, vines, rocks and peaks
it seeks for eternity
the ancient trees drink light
and breathe out the heaviness
of splintered sight 
into the ephemeral night
divine breath
is calling you home
sounding trumpet flowers
daily...

gathering falling branches
and transforming sticks of palo santo
into star-studded candles
which permanently leave 
their ashen and iridescent marks 
like tattooed scars
upon the painted face of the sky

while angels fly
with flaming bundles of hair
weaving silent smoke signals
rising up from warm coals
the spiraling eyes of the spirits 
are alight with the embers of love
which impress their radiant etchings 
upon the daguerreotype of darkness' 
burning eyeballs


faceless in the heat
grief is asleep and dreaming
of justice
a curse on those 
who evade their emptiness
in culturally appropriated places
harboring...

regret like a fugitive 
such frustration that i wept
for the lack of fruitfulness 
******* the chords of love
slowly and gently she strums
her weeping guitar 
as if arrows and yarn
were woven into her arms
like baby blankets and bundles of cotton
naked and forlorn 
her hair worn short
still she swore that she could not rest
until all had sweat their prayers
through hollow caverns and windy staircases
her vision forever strengthened
by a ceaseless determination

balancing multiple lovers
is never an ideal situation
hearts broken and freedom falling
toppling down from heaven’s peak 
into these dusty old basements
just as we suspected
everything is resurrected
to time’s smiling amazement
both old ones and new ones
are reflections of truth
juniper sours
and blooming flowers 
of golden waterlilies 
poppies and sprigs of amaranth
jaundiced and porous
loquacious are the stages 
that we must pass through 
on our way to becoming 
dew drops and frozen apples


remediating all this concrete nonsense 
would be to our immediate economic advantage
these tragic promissory notes 
where landed lords of wealth 
have repeatedly replicated themselves 
upon trillions of meaningless pieces of paper
their stoically printed faces 
should not be readily trusted
nor traded or exchanged
for life's necessities
they are not only useless but truly 
dangerous
as they often claim
that they are only passing through
yet as each new day dawns
they are forever inclined 
to once again dine with you anew


bold in flesh and sinuous
only a moment before
the Sun shall bloom and whisper
with sleepy eyes
into yarrow flavored water
the secret of not knowing
the ancient face
of grandmother Moon speaks
through alabaster teeth
so intent on biting through sheets of
dawn’s iridescent sky
that the sounds of her words
are instantly drowned out 
by her tears
yet if you listen 
really closely like an owl
to the chorus of the night
you can clearly 
hear the forest echo

i love you
Emeka Mokeme Aug 2018
Loving feelings can restore
balance to relationships.
If you can only bring yourself
to make it happen.
**** the ego and selfish pride
that imprisoned you.
Set yourself free and
go for the one
your heart seeks.
Nurture the one whom your
soul loves.
For out of your
efforts to come out
of your cocoon will emerge a
beautiful lifetime relationship.
A love that is deep
can flow like the
river that leaves its
bank and flood
the whole unimaginable places.
Just like a finger
dipped into the oil
can infest the whole fingers,
so is the love that
forgives penetrates
the whole body
and **** all the
vulnerability to
show it's wounded
face to the sun
without being shy.
Acceptance is of
extreme importance
to bring desired pleasure
to placate and nurture
the heart to heal.
With pleasure the heart
is reverted to a blissful
sequence that is lovely
where both hearts will
feel safe enough to let
their inner child out
of the box to play.
Victory is accorded
to such a joyful end
while the relationship blooms.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
BLT May 30
His face twisted and contorted,
all reality, unreasonably distorted;
inhibitions no longer reigned, sensibilities feigned,
nothing good to be gained-
he attacks with blinded vision.

He spits his venom with spirited tongue
the victim, wounded, bitten and stung;
with the barbs from his malicious tail,
penetrates their chain mail, leaving all to wail
with deadly accurate precision.

Standing alone on the battlefield,
his weapons laid down beside his shield;
Terra firma soaked red, crows picking at the dead,
he shakes his muddled and worried head,
regretting his finite decision.

BLT
*Too often, we lash out at those we love when worried, pressured or afraid.
Boris Sitnikoff Nov 2018
See her nestle the baby in her arms
Hold him close to her *****
Tears down her face
As she hears his mouth smacking on her
She looks beyond the sky
Mutters, "Thank you"
This is a man of promise
This is a man of hope
This is a man that will carry the torch of life to the next age

See her nestling in the embrace of her beloved
Hold her as a tree's shadow holds the grass of the ground
His eyes upon the baby he begot
As his vision penetrates his darling's soft flowing hair
He looks beyond the sky
Utters, "Our Lord has given us an arrow"
"Let me be your bow,
And Your glory we shall show
To nations we shall go
In Your body we shall grow"

See their eyes close
As the rain pours
Storms surge
Wing roars
Waves purge
As the lightning strikes
Thunder claps
Wolves bite
Ravens flap
As the jet fighters rip through the sky
As the helicopters project a deep sigh
As all the rockets and bullets fly
As all the radio transmissions die
See their eyes close

In peace.
Bob B Mar 8
When Nancy smiled, the world smiled.
There is naught that can erase
Her smile that's etched into my heart--
A smile that brightly lit up her face.

Think of a lustrous beam of light
That blissfully penetrates
A pitch-black night or darkest gloom--
That rapturously radiates.

Such a beam was Nancy's charm;
Such a beam was Nancy's smile.
How I envy her effortless laugh,
Her quick wit, her perky style!

Three daughters left behind
Inherited their mother's charming
Traits: her wit, her zest for life,
Her smile so radiant and disarming.

More than once Nancy faced
Close calls but vanquished death.
While paying one more visit, the thief
Absconded with her final breath.

I hope that when my end draws near,
I can be as calm, as brave.
I hope that I can take with me
Her beautiful smile to my grave.

-by Bob B (3-8-19)
Xandra Lynch Dec 2018
The soft blue-green of the moon’s light floods into my bedroom.
The day: over
Time ebbs away, nonexistent
The memories on the shelf fall off
The shattered glass grabs onto the moonlight and hugs it
The light dissipates
It leaves an empty shell, the remainder of light curling and taking off
to cover a faraway land with a soft reassurance of mist

The drowsiness underneath my eyes dwindles away
This is the noise that keeps me awake.
Exhilaration is pumped into my hollow bones
Painful buzzing cuts into my brain at random. The light of the moon fluctuates
The bitter food still alive on my tongue overwhelms my senses
The sharpness of the light penetrates my eye with force. I can’t see anything
The light bends, white and bright, the stars burrow into my iris
My bones are jelly, my brain is a cocoon of abhorrence, my heart is a balloon
It pops.

The beast within me ***** away at the jelly, fed.  
The creature in my brain breaks out and flies away to infest another innocent.
The noise slips away. I’m a paper girl limp on the bed.
Unable to move or feel or think or to have a heartbeat.
Quiet blossoms inside. I exist as a metaphor. I ***** my eyelids shut.
i hope they won’t fall off
The stars wink away. An infinite, dark sky looms overhead.
The darkness is a blanket, firm and reliable, warm. I drape it over myself and vanish.
Entropy lives within me. I nurture it, because it is my friend.
It flies away into its nest of clouds. It is distant. It will not come again for awhile.

Shadows shift onto the floor and murmur.
Dreams await.

© 2018
Xandra Lynch
~Bardic magistry
Woven unto
Sage & Seeress
Whose vision
Penetrates
The Temporal Expanse.

The Crowned of Epistemology
Reigns sovereign
Unfurled upon the Seven Seas,
The Firmaments,
And The Gaian Mother
Aeonic & venerable:

Dedicated to the
Sagacious, sapient, source of sonority;
Mine Matriarch Mavenette
Wielding wisdom
Pristine, amidst
The Chaos of Chthonic,
At times, adjacent,
NetherRealm:

Valhalla of the once Valiant Soul
Twas I
The Wound-Bearer;
Convalescing in Light
Of the Simulacrum of the Sun,
Until
Greater Eden arrives:

Through lore the soul is lifted unto heights once denied;
The onerous edicts of Gravity begotten to be defied.
We peregrinate this plane searching for Lovelit Life;
We depart in ascendency beckoned by the rapture of the Divine.

No soul knows all, yet by lore, we come to rise, rise
In our excellency sired by the Empyrean Sublime.
By the exhalation of our Exodus we ne’er know how to fly,
Yet the Wings of Phantasmagoria are bestowed upon the Wise.

Let reverie propel you eternally into the Baptistery of the Sun,
for His love is infinite, His light needs ne’er be won.
The Ages are ephemeral & the Zeitgeist like Winds of Time:
Yet the Sciential is forever & wisdom transcends time.

Know that there is more than seen with the eyes;
In this boundless cosmos, precepts are meant to be defied:
Make history therefore of thine bygone days,
For the unborn waxeth thine present: a time-transcending sage.

O, She is the Millennial Maven
Transcending Space & Time
Rising through the Exosphere; Excelling Ether
into Mind’s Fire.

O, She is the Sage of Dreamscapes, Summoning
Luminaries unto Gaia:
That the Wisdom of the Ancients
Illuminate Orbis Terrae.

O, the Impossible is Possible,
Through Amazonians such as thee,
Waging Warfare through Wisdom
That her Clansman might live free.

O, Rapture in a Zephyr
(Aromatic & Fragrant Winds)
She harnesses the Tempest of Futility, that
Ineffable splendor is borne in stead.

O, the Tapestry of Eternity unfolds
(Through the hands of thee)
For through thine counsel are souls made stalwart,
In the Visage of Shadows made to see.

O, been hazed, been dazed
Mine entity hath been flayed,
Until incarnadine raiment arrayed
And through Nox & Somnus, mine heartsease is betrayed.

Lo!  Yet as a wraith in pining
For the Land of Living & Immortal Truth,
O, the Priestess of the Sacrality of Sapience
Doth forge a revenant anew.

O, continue upon thine Pilgrimage
For thine spirit, it gleams:
Upon the Feuillemorte Leaves of Autumn
The Sacred Lotus, impregnable, breathes.

The Hiemal Sun glistens brighter
As discernment and time wax Sovereign Reign; knowledge is
The Diadem of The Epistemic Empress:
  The Monarchy of your claim.

May Splendor and Mercy
Be promised unto thee,
May you promenade life’s trek in credence
That the Wings of Manumission make thee truly free.

If by chance you findeth enfettered
Your soul through sentiments strewn
Wonder upon the liberation
You’ve woven into mind’s renewed.

O, the Soul shall reapeth,
That which it sows,
You’ve harvested the Seeds of Liberty,
Let the Diadem of thine Ascendency thus be made to grow.
May the sacraments
She confers,
Alight upon
Her
Own soul,
May She
effloresce
in the Light of The Empyrean One
Excelsior
Forevermore.

~Happy Holidays Beloved Ones.~

"Therefore, become imitators of God, as beloved children"

-Ephesians 5:1
Blue Aug 2018
Just don't tell me anything
in case I believe you
I know what I think
but I don't know what is true
you think words are wind
but to me they are poison
I thought we were friends
but we change like the seasons

I should disregard you
or how I think you see me
it penetrates through
then that wind blows
right through me
I wish I could sample
and taste your perception
would you taste innocence
or would you taste deception?

I only breathe when you love me
I'm holding my breath
you've been killing me for years
I don't know how much fight
I have left

the cause is my perception
not your intentions
you don't have a clue
or a chance not to mention
my suffering is a ghost to you
and a hurricane to me
it's a natural disaster
one you cannot see

I want you to stop
but all you do is exist
I don't know how to love you
with hugs or with fists
please, go away
I won't beg
I'm begging you
please just stay, fix me
you make me feel whole
even though you're killing me
mind, body and soul

don't feel bad
really, I've been killing myself
I existed for us
couldn't you just do the same?
you said you did
maybe that's true
but all I know
is what I believe
I didn't mean to you.
SassyJ Aug 2018
Sometimes I wish I could be a man
the sun will just make me move
dance like Finley Quaye
gathering rainbows
as the sun rays penetrates
deeply through the layers
of the spinning dreidel

Sometimes I wish I could be a man
may be the girls will stare and think
wink and weakly muse
gathering rainbows
as the winter sacrifices it’s cold spell
over the mast of a mountain peak
past the cold freeze of the snowy frost

......If I were a man, I would lay her reign by the summerly graffiti trail. Then, sing her lullabies made of rubies and red roses........
I did a Facebook app where the perception of my face was turned to a man.Most people thought I look like Finley Quaye. Quite happy with my gender. The yin and yan of a human existence.
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