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I walk among the quietened beasts
soak up their ancient sorrow
for lives suspended evermore
there can be no tomorrow.

I think we are quite like them
for we may never  be
forward-thinking, pursuant
nor together, you and me.

I hand my heart unto the sacred
dagger'd through and split usunder
a choice made in perfect honesty
now rolls in me like thunder.

Of time and tide, I waited
believing bright in your return
the hands ran down eventually
but will I ever learn?

For yet I chance my dancing luck
balanced on the edge
to tumble into history
or stay within my pledge.

I am split right down the middle
as these taxidermy dreams
my insides on the outside
coming loose unto my seams.

I gaze into their marble eyes
dare to touch a proffered paw
I am locked in here, forever
disbelieving what I saw.

Your face came in from the ages
and I tumbled, caring not
of promises I had made
the moment time forgot.

Just as I thought you gone, forever
there you are again
and now I'm living with the beasts
my winged heart aflame.

Fill me up with chemicals
to float, suspended, in my jar
my other life is dying
gazed only from afar.

An actress of reality
I am wholly in pretence
unable to exert myself
I sit upon the fence.

Just as do the quietened beasts
whom my secrets I shall tell
I love you, darling, just as much
as I did the day I fell.

In my pose'd capture
of grotesquerie divine
I am strangely whole again
myself, outside of time.

So, come and walk these rooms once more
pass around my tortured form.
Organs draped and ribboned,
complete, I am, when torn.

Take my body-blocks apart
to only you I yield,
and every little shred of me
wrap around you for a shield.

My parts protect in constance
each step upon your path,
in bits of broken wonder
I shall burn upon your hearth.

For love is all that I can give
and in pieces there are more
sides to coat with blessed pain
oh, love, rip me to the core.

The beasts gaze at me so oddly
I think they feel me vain
for I don't wish of being whole
just of pieces, torn again.

My destiny is tableaux
if I cannot be with you
and, thus arranged, my pieces
show only what is true.

That I may never find sweet peace,
in this body, only strife.
I must be smashed to smithereens
to be brought back to life.

Dear beasts, please let me stay a while
you're my family.
And this old house is comfort
my safe menagerie.
Scarlet Niamh Jan 2016
The forever falling devil reaches for my heart,
his talons digging deep as I am forced to sleep
in his world, for evermore
in the land of pure darkness.

The rotten wings which once resided
on his back; glorious, white, bright;
now shards of glass that cut those
who come too close.

The fire in his heart is put out
by the flood in mine; killed by the
never-ending storm inside me. Flames put out
by water; those who thrived in the soul fire
quietened by the heartless liar
who turned hell into an ocean.
ryn May 2015
Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.

All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.

I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.

I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.

I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.

But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.

Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.

Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.
Shaurya Pal Jan 2014
Seasoned melancholia,
The wrath of life.
Levelled free will,
A dangerous strife.
Kissing this poison,
Drinking my pain.
Swallowing vermin,
Throwing up in vain.
It ends with you,
Take this to your grave.
My story for you,
Isn’t the hunger you crave.

In the dark,
There lay a corpse,
Dead as dead could be.
Covered in blood,
The body decayed.
The screaming had veered,
An eerie silence prevailed.
I was alone with him.
I bore witness to the event,
It unfolded when he had stretched out his hand,
Toward, stupefied by the beauty,
Pulled in by the magnanimity.
I saw it all, up, close and personal.
I felt nothing, no remorse no conscience,
It was strange, the man had no relevance.

But I cried nonetheless,
Wept at his foolishness,
The fatal attraction lead to his end.
His stubborn belief to relieve all,
To save a soul he himself would fall.
In the hands of a stranger,
The devil all along.

Mesmerized by the set of eyes,
He walked himself to a surprise,
Before I could even blink my eye,
A wave of thunder swept the sky.

I panicked, hid myself tight,
The stranger helpless, got struck by the light.
Ecstatic, in shock he imbibed a misconception,
The eyes being admired were of awry intention.

As I took refuge in the darkness,
Gawking at the scenery speechless.
The stranger losing his cool, nigh suicidal,
Gave up, and terminated his life cycle.

I came close to the cadaver,
And squeezed out his soul.
It couldn’t have lasted forever,
Ending up as the Devil’s finger bowl.

And I dragged, dragged it all along,
To a refuge safe from the devil’s own.
I brought him to my humble abode,
A cage small enough for one or two whole.
I placed the weightless spirit on the floor,
He woke up and saw me leaving through the door.
Shouted at the top of his mettle, “You! I know you!”.
“Hush” I proclaimed. “You need not worry,
There’s another soul I seek and need to carry,
And bring it here before it’s too late.
Till then you relax here, in your undead state.”


The Ethereal now confused and dumbfounded,
Quietened himself, feeling astounded.
One last time he gathered courage,
“You can’t leave me here, I have done nothing wrong!
This place scares me, I’m not that strong.”
“Oh but you have no choice,
You were brought here by your actions,
This IS where you belong.”

And with that I left him hopeless,
Opened the door and locked it with firmness.
The outside air smelled bitter,
The rusty surrounding was no better.
With disgust I set my path precise,
Avoiding the stranger’s delinquent cries.
Blasted myself off the ground,
Towards a place which reeks with chaotic freedom,
A hermitage, sane man’s Elysium.
Magnolia, the mental asylum.
There committed was a man,
Who had dared to escape with a sound plan.
His inner demons tortured and pestered him,
With psychological pain, detaching limb from limb.
I was his guide, his guardian angel.
As I approached the tortured male,
A creature so weak, color yellowish pale.
Locked in a room, a chance to unveil.
I woke him up with my sweet dreary voice,
“Rise, awaken my soul.”
And I opened the door with a loud crack,
“Hurry up, lest the guard will be back.”

With that it was enough for the man,
To take the hint in the small span.
He fled with the meagre chance he got,
He wouldn’t stand another day in this rot.
Believing in my words, he opened the door,
Only to get caught again, as before.

The doctor tied him to a work bench,
The man writhing away, repulsed by the stench.
“Don’t resist, the society cannot accept you,
You killed your wife and children, their ******’s on you.”
At this point I knew I had to step in, else I’d never acquire,
His soul, the sweet nectar, which I dearly desire.



I stood beside him, so that only he could hear my whisper,
“You’re no killer, don’t pay heed,
Your whole life was laden with good deeds.
Rebel, Cause chaos, never give a ****.”
And he obeyed, like a good little lamb.
They held him, prepared the equipment,
He moaned and groaned a denial indignant.
The stage for lobotomy was set,
For his beliefs stood virtually *****.
I placed my hand on his shoulders,
My unwavering touch, aiding his composure.
The doctor struck and I took his grace.
That was all, the seraphim now intact,
My purpose was served.

The stranger’s soul on the other hand,
Grew impatient in the demoniac land.
Bright light engulfed his thoughts and blinded him,
Shattered his notions, faltered his whim.
Appeared a man in straightjacket with bloodshot eyes,
A fierce expression adorned his face.
Was this my savior? Or was he the reaper’s prize?
Will I vanish from the face of the earth?
Or shall I die again tonight?
I was tired now, exhausted.
So I sat in front of them,
Both looking at each other,
Then at me.
The stranger cried,
“It was You! They were Your eyes!
The eyes that deceived me,
Lured me closer then tricked me!!
Either you’re the devil himself,
Or someone completely insane!”
“He’s not insane….” Said the crazy
“It’s a ‘She’ and a spirit so pure,
My good shepherd, an avenging angel,
Who saved me from my cure.
He’s the reason why I’m free now.”
I smiled, amused and amazed at the contrast,
I shall hold back a little and see how long it would last.

“You are to be blamed for my condition,
You brought me here to devour me,
It was your scheming leading to my damnation.”
“So untrue, she’s my path to redemption,
It was she, who believed me and cared for me,
When nobody in the world would help so easily.”
“You don’t realize, he took advantage of the darkness and stabbed me,
He broke my trust and attacked fiercely.”
The stranger had retrieved his long lost will,
Thought it was a battle he couldn’t sit still.
The man in the straightjacket too was fed up,
Hearing allegations about his angel, he stood up.
“You lie, she cannot be so cruel, it was God himself who had sent her
To aid me and put me out of my misery.”

It is the very nature of human so judging,
Faith in their instincts was far more than recurring.
How will mankind evolve?
If it cannot see beyond its own self,
How will mankind survive?
If we keep fighting amongst ourselves.

With a huge sigh I pitched in,
Else this would be a debate never finishing.
“Fools of darkness and insanity,
I speak for you and you only,
I am the result of your delusions,
I am what you want me to be.
I am your savior and your killer,
The factor you avoid so carelessly.
Do not blame me for your doings,
I never attacked you in the darkness,
Nor I opened the door for you,
My eyes were never that captivating,
My soft voice was never comforting.
I am your imagination,
Your brainchild.
Yet you mold me in the worst way possible.
True I was there when you were dying,
But you summoned me and begged for an answer,
All I am is fire to your fuel.

In front of you there is a choice,
Only one of you qualifies,
To get out of this purgatory.
One in heaven one in hell,
Decide amongst yourselves,
I’ll be ready when you choose to tell.”




Both now baffled and flummoxed,
The choice they had was a paradox.
The deserving shall win the argument,
The other shall be caged and boxed.
For me neither mattered,
I act as a silent observer,
From what I know they’d **** each other,
My faith in humanity can never be restored.

Strange however, they didn’t utter a word.
They were just silent, staring at each other,
Interesting, humans always amaze me.
But my job wasn’t done just yet,
I reached out my hand and prepared a pyre,
A hell for both if they choose to retire.
“Decide and push your friend in the fire,
The other shall inherit the Pearly Gates.”



They now were just struck dumb,
The fire in front had made them numb.
I stood amused smacking my tongue,
Waiting for the serenade to be sung.
For when the instincts kick in,
Only one would survive, the other will burn.
I stood anxiously, anticipating their turn.

Together now they held hands,
Approached the fire and stopped.
What a surprise! They both decided to off themselves,
Foolish again, the outcome had flopped.
The Stranger and the Crazy, looked straight at me,
“If you’re our imagination, you don’t decide our fate,
If you’re our creation, our lives you cannot dictate.
Foolish we were, not recognizing you,
Cowards we’re not, we now construe.
You lived many lives, the lives we give,
We don’t permit you to outlive
Beyond our hopes and imagination.
We’ve had enough, time to end this fantasy,
We no longer bow down to your indecency.”


And in a flash before I could cerebrate,
They pushed me hard, their spirits elate.
I fell into the flames, of the everlasting fire,
Who knew my own design would be my funeral pyre?

The basket case neared as I was torn asunder,
“Even though I believed you tried to help,
I knew somewhere I was to be blamed,
I was no longer the innocent whelp,
You had intended to be tamed.
Die now in peace as I choose to forget,
This is your punishment, bear no regret.”

The stranger too, had something to say,
“Listen to me before you decay,
I lived as a fool, blindly trusting you,
In the light of darkness, I believed you to be true.
I now realize, after my demise,
You’re just pathetic fragment of my life,
An actor, who played his part all along,
There’s no happy ending for you,
You must pay for what you did wrong.
Die in pain as I won’t forget,
This is your penalty, you corrupted silhouette.”
With these last words, I faded into oblivion,
Hell awaited me,
This is what I get, for being their progeny.
All this time I believed they were fools,
Honing their servility.
The calmness before the storm,
The levelling of free will,
No freedom of choice, no survival.
They are no fools, they just play dumb,
Nobody’s innocent, see what they’ve become.
They create demons and monsters,
And then take pride in slaying them.
A tiresome feat,
They enjoy mayhem.
With my end, others will rise,
Till they are done playing with lives.
Part 3 of The 'Karma' Trilogy
I notice you the moment I walk in
You, however, don't give a ****
Looking at your pretty little associates
Giggling over some inane matter
While you sit like you are
Some kind of holy,
With a ****-eating grin
On your face. Your attention
Doesn't waver from them

I walk inside, intensely tired
Gone insane with all the fake-
grins and the somewhat awkward
Fun we all had. Your attention
Doesn't waver from your papers
Your precious little papers
I note, with a sardonic grin
I close my eyes and simply
Don't care any more as I
Strip out of my clothes
Chuck off my stupid heels
And fall on the bed, letting
Out a sigh of relief, comfort
Finally, I get to relax
My spine relaxes but it tingles
With awareness of the
Audience. I open my eyes
My vision blurry from over-use
I meet his gaze across the room

He keeps staring
Disconcerted and too weary to deal
With his mood-swings, I close my eyes
And bury my face in the pillow

My head is hurting, it is pounding
And I am at the end of my rope
He comes with slow, languid strides
Makes me sit-up, hands over the flask
Filled with water, my name engraved
On the cap, and a pamphlet of Aspirin
I praise the medical wonders
As I knock it down and lie on the bed again
I can feel it acting its magic
My nerves are loosening out
My head is being quietened bit by bit

As my vision blackens, I notice his
Face, eyes, expression
Strangely, something looks
Like longing on his face
Comments?
David Noonan Apr 2017
I wake in this city
This city that didn't bear me
This city that didn't raise me
And yet it's this city that i seek to find something of me
Not in the pubs or the clubs or the karaoke bars
Where revelers conspire to dream and drink to the stars
Nor the cafes where poets and artists in a foreign language create.
Pass the market stalls where secondhand books and vinyls are stacked like freight
It is to the quietened streets of the old town I go
Where i long for the walls to speak once more
To reveal their hidden histories
To help fashion some sense of a man
One unknownst to me, my fathers father whose name I share
A fine skilled seamster, thus a tailor by trade
Not arriving to this city for work on fabrics of nylon and silk
But to stitch and sew the flesh of limbs in a paramedic corps
Another pawn of the Great War under King George's command
Driven only by economic necessity from a penal homeland
Not of conscription, politics or some moral conviction at play
For the price of neutrality is one that poverty simply refuses to pay
Returning home to an Ireland of hostility or silence at best
Medals now lying deep in pockets not proudly pinned to chests
Irish heroes don't fight in a British war for a King's crown
No such stories from father to son shall ever pass down
And now, a grainy photograph, three medals for a sons son to take
A dog tag that bears my name, a number and RC to depict a faith
From a man exiled in his home as a forgotten prisoner of war
To honour a legacy i find myself in this city afar
Asking the same questions of him as to me
Is this city the last place he truly felt free?
*for my grandfather that I never knew and this, his story that is new to me*
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
Did you see it?
That brother can do it
oh yes indeed he can,

like a young trout at dusk,
in a sweet still lake,
like a pouncing cheetah,
from many yards out,
like Wille May in the outfield,
for a soaring high ball,
like the most monstrous of great whites
rising from the dark depths & exploding
out of the ocean seal prey all clenched
in its merciless jaws,

like a cobra after transfixing its quietened mark,
like the most glorious of lithe pole vaulters,
like the most dandy of sweet young gymnasts,
like the great bull Magic Johnson springing over all & slam
dunkin' that rocketed ball as the whole court is helpless & the
people rock & its more points on that board,
that brother did it

just tore that Southern Hate right on out
of their White Pride hands,
brother just plain did it.
H R H Nov 2018
I'm six
Playing at home
Words flowing back and forth on top of my head
Taking in everything
Only understanding some
Watching with awe
As tears ran down
As hands pled

But let's pretend everything is fine
Just for a night
Let all the stars shine
Forget the darkness
Forget the mess
You're in a dream of happiness

I'm fourteen
Coming back home
Greeted by closed doors
Even more closeted pain
Bathing in chocked sobs
Sweet memories
Vanishing like foam
Laughter and cheers
Quietened by the thunderstorm
Smiles full of teeth
Washed away by heavy rain

But let's pretend everything is fine
Just for one night
Let all the stars shine
Forget the darkness
Forget the mess
You're in a dream of happiness

I'm twenty now
In what used to be home
Watching figures well known
Strangers still
Shouting
Flown insults
As it is the norm
Dulled out an octave
With every swallowed pill

It is over now
Everything is fine
From this night onward
I'll be the star that shines
Welcome the darkness
Forget the mess
My eternal dream of happiness
Things don't always get better
People don't always become better
But you can make yourself better
Sia Jane Dec 2013
If a wish could be made and
for it's magic to come true
under this Christmas eves, mistletoe
for all my blessings to be counted
for the good I try to do,
surely I'd be granted,
the one I so love
the girl in red,
with tousled hair
covering her neck,
ink marks sketching over
hands poised with gold
thighs laced covered
******* softy caressed
silk lingerie red laced
her smile dream landscapes
her laughter quietened
by her jewelled hand
covering her mouth
red lipstick marked
kisses so gentle,
the touch of a
painted lady butterfly
drinking sugary nectar
from flowers
in this, Garden of Eden
naked lovers embrace
flew away.

© Sia Jane

---

"My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all...All my heart has ever wanted is you."
Stephanie Laurens
Jordan Fischer Jun 2013
When we lay close, touching.
Chest to Chest
Our hearts thumping and thrashing about inside
Out of sync
They sway back and forth
And it's not clear which gives in first
But soon,
they beats become methodical and uniform
Pounding at each other in a quietened drum
Until the beat becomes a deafening silence
Our chests sore
Euphoria overwhelms as it should
And our beating will never stop or slow
No matter how sore.
ciannie Nov 2015
A dust storm blows through Kansas
Stinging, lashing shrieks
The sand blows holes through a Canvas
Who collects the words, and sleeks
The gunfire of their sound, for weeks
His brows steeled and heavy
The whirlwind quits its wails
And leaves, lily-livered in its belly

A tsunami bellows over Mastushima bay
Body slamming into townsfolk
A long-time build up lead astray
One sun-browned girl is left to choke
But then spits out the damage, in half broke
And the colossal wave recedes
Quietened, calm and apologetic
Anger fleeing as it bleeds

Snow drifts and crawls its way past Moscow
Gentle, almost alluring in its ways
Children present their tongues, and the sow
Charges, squealing, into guts and begins frays
Which twist their ears burnt, lasting for a thousand days
And eventually a conscience melts the qualm
And the damage rectified on-surface
But frostbite clings to fingers; done already is the harm

Weather will hound and scorch and spit
And eventually untether
And though people bite and kick and hit
No emotion lasts forever
attempt at a ballade
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ciannie Oct 2015
i wish you could be here again
i'd give anything to see
the tremors of your beating body
alive, with me

you said before you left
something so profound
and i have tried, and tried to remember it
you never wrote it down

you taught me so well
the anxiety of our life and the care
with the last of your breath, you told me again
separated the hurt with the fair

i could never foresee
and probably should admit
that i am terrified to live in a world
without you in it

the pain, it's always there
you were so accepting, could you have gotten on?
if it were me to be you...
with half of a whole heart gone

met at sixteen, parted at sixty
that's forty four cycles, forty four gallons of tears
dried out my partial body
i am already suffocated without you here

what did you say, as i bent to kiss your cheek?
as the tremors of your life quietened, and you were partially left
what did you say
in your last moments of breath?

*"you're beautiful, this close"
inspired by the Sleeping At Last song 'Saturn'
again...poetry to music, guys
Eloi Aug 2016
I woke up late last night,
To a bright burning light,
Heard people talking,
People fighting,
the world turned upside down.

I Wake up,
Then Black out.
How many hours has it been?
3? Maybe 4?
The light is gone,
It's all dark now,
The voices have quietened,
And the fighting has stopped.
I'm alone.

I thought I was in pain when the commotion was going on,
When the fighting was all around me,
When there was fire as the sky.

But I can tell you now,
That nothing is as painful as no one being around, as there being no noise,
And nothing is worse than being lonely.
La Flaneuse Jul 2010
It’s darker in here than out there.
At dusk
Light fades quicker in stale air.
And screams
Of kids that are not me, or you, or goats.
At last
Are quietened with milk and night-time prayers.

It’s darker up here than down there
At home
Where streets are the reserve of far-away.
At rest.
And lights are dimming while they pray
As day
And they, go in to rest.
Poetic T Apr 2016
Could I see in their eyes, as I clean up this momentary
lusting, for their inner demons to released this way.
I had visions of them shouting "4,

That was going to need a ladder and I hate heights.
Well up I went in slow motion, I saw the spaces between the
claret splashes in frozen moments of nothing. Now just a coat
cold and unwarming. From up here it looked like an
abstract painting I called it "echoes of relentless madness,

It was another call out this place off a million lights  
only a fraction were braking into havocs grasp. But when
their final instant came, till it was a single moment or an
eternity in seconds, the end result was the same.

I wore a fresh suit, each being deflowered within
moments. Others lives were centimetres from mine.
They were with me through out these moments, then I
threw them in the bin like a one night stand. I left them
behind , no reason to remember names.

This  one was different, the other one was just like a
water balloon of finest red had been tossed around the
room, this one...  Charred shadows of where like a wick
They had become a light in the darkness and consumed.

Not as much blood, just dry lumps of god knows what.
I breathed quickly, a hand print on the table slightly
scorched, but the hand print still visible reaching out.

This was more a scrap and polish like cleaning spilt
cheese now carbonized on the bottom of the grill.
A hot mind is not a good thing specially when a vent
of release givesthis pressure a release. I look at it and
think to myself? I called this one "charred thoughts ascending,

I once again leave them behind, this is beyond the
ordinary job. Knocking off for lunch i see the next
piece off where my work will take me. I see them
walking and in quietened haste I lunge and inflict a
flesh wound so some may think, but an artery I have nicked .

So gently I  grazed, wouldn't want then to bleed too quick
or to slowly for that matter. I abscond in my van, knowning
the call will not be long versed just another clean up
so many in this city of lights where I calmly change
each one. As to be repetitive there is no art form in that.

To be a cleaner and to see art where others only see death
or tears. I see a deeper visions the latest in the collection
I called them "Life running dry, this was an easy clean
up, but ill have to give it a rest i earned enough from the
clean ups to sit back and watch the world move by.

Till next my artistry is mused I will think of others that
have twerked my needing a suit hangs up, each with
the name of that creation. I can admire them anytime,
and just think of the anticipation that was needed for this
depiction of my thoughts and how they bled out.
serial
Odd Odyssey Poet Jun 2022
I've read about bloodshed;
whether foreign or local by hands of same labour,
Tribalism; though something I haven't experienced,
I've felt it's affect. The very hurt of a neighbour.

History has shown us plenty, still the plenty
of hurt in our history we carry.
If these walls could talk; they'd seem lesser, and
quietened by the ground's bloodshed.
History taught us well into future, but affected the
present so badly.

Tears of loss, tears of tragedy,
tears of us, tears of brothers and sisters,
Are tears of all, us as one nation's family.

Tears of old, tears anew,
tears of past, tears of present and future,
Are the tears of another I shed too.

These tears on the grounds of present pastures;
I question how long generations we'll wait for
the tears to into laughter.

Sigh!
Ellie Elliott Jan 2016
It's been light years since my heart strings
were touched, gently plucked
in artfully arranged cacophonies of
'I love you' and
'Come closer' and, whispering,
'baby'
sweetly, in his waning symphony.

The fade-out drags at my feet,
while I move through moments now, slowed down,
talking loud,
as though words are my only means to stretch moments out.
These are the 4am secrets I cling to most,
sunlit smokescreen memories of a spaceman still haunting me, you see
no matter how loudly I speak
smaller volumes are still volumes
and his whispers were still words
like 'baby', hurtling through moment after moment
and I wonder why it still hurts.

An asteroid of his voice ricochets through endless stretches of space
and solar flares only spit flashes of his face until even supermassive black holes seem comforting,
perhaps they would transport me to a different dimension of blanket fort dreams
where I am held again, amongst whispers wistfully meant
and this time I don't forget to contain all the stars in my eyes,
cocooned in second chances on Solaris,
the planet where lost loves come to life,
where droves of the lovesick go to die.

I couldn't escape past the moon forever
but ****, I could still crash land whenever
These unearthly dreams created space for me
and in that space, I found my sanctuary
realising that with all the space that I need
the spaceman no longer had a hold on my dreams.

See, love was soaring music, elevation, no metre,
just levitation, almost timeless, but it teetered
on the finish line
to be stopped too soon by a volume dial and a frown,
I bottled up from bottle to cup and kept my voice down
but time has a way of showing you
that shutting people out isn’t profound,
but the absence of sound.

Endings quietened my universe, but
I stopped believing in the relief of silence
and since,
I have become a crushing crescendo,
I think even the cosmos could hear me screaming.
The volume turns up and I burn and I glow
feasting on feelings, wasted on whispers
I'll break waves against wistfulness,
Fling fists against fitfulness,
the spaceman can fight me for all he's worth,
I will not fade out.
ellie elliott
Emily Tyler Sep 2013
I lay here every night
Talking to non-existent voices
And they always understand,

Sometimes they'd laugh along,
Other times they'd cry so long;
Sometimes they are really loud
Other times quietened by a shroud.

But sometimes I wish
There'd be this
Other bed with
Another girl or boy
Probably older than I
And he/she would be down there
Nodding or
Getting an anxious look on
The face

And when they hear me out,
They'd rush towards me and
Grab hold of me in their arms
Repeating over and over again
"It's okay, I'm here. It's over..."

And I would truly
Have felt warmth and love
And I'd really be able to have
A real shoulder
To cry on

And maybe, then I wouldn't have to
Pretend every day and every night
That I have this
Warm loving family in my head
And though they disagree quite often
They'd still stick together
No matter what

Maybe then
I wouldn't have to
Cry writing this poem
Just wishing
Once again
I had a

Somebody
Salmabanu Hatim Feb 2019
The wind whistled through the trees,
An ominous warning on her lips,
The skies were ripped apart by lightning,
The dark clouds thundered calling out my child's name,
Raindrops pelted on the window pane,
Threatening to break it.
I sat huddled in a chair,
Praying for a miracle.
My child lay on his bed barely breathing with no hope,
The doctor had left,
Now it was in the hands of Allah.
Suddenly everything seemed still,
Nature had quietened,
The candle stopped flickering.
I saw a large,dark silhouette  leaving the doorway,
It was saying,"My mistake, your child has long to live."
My son woke up with a smile,
"Mum,I was with the Angels,
It was beautiful there,
But they brought me back,
I was needed here to be with you."
I jumped up and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my eyes,
What a miracle,
Allah had listened to my prayers.
CB Hooper Jan 2014
Active minds quietened by alcohol,
Familiar smoke in lungs,
Anything to blur the frantic
Sentences that burn and dance
Across synapses and down
Nerve endings,
Trying to escape through
Fingertips.
"Enough, enough"-
Concerned voices trying to help
But that moment is long gone
Out the window, through the
Garden and on to the harbor
Where my inebriated soul
Could rest at last.
Louise Jun 2014
□□□□□□

Written on these walls
that constantly surround me
are words of pain and hurt
that never seem to leave

Tiny steps taken forward
that sometimes feel like leaps
yet I'm so quickly halted,
quietened, I stare at my feet

A mind that feels battered
like an exhausted, pathetic space
A heart distorted and wounded
and each time it's etched on my face

I feel so sure at times
that the past will no longer invade
thinking each time I'll be prepared
for another battle that's there to face

Still it feels like a cruel blow
that dulls and slows my senses
catching me off guard
before I can raise all defences

Each time I am learning
how to heal my wounds that bleed
I have a choice, I realise
and return more swiftly to my feet

I cannot let them hinder me
refuse to waste tears or time
through this life I'll just keep on walking
drawing on my strength that's deep inside

□□□
I wrote this a while ago and it has made me realise how much better I am coping at dealing with the things life throws at me.
: )
The Noose Feb 2018
Mother I tempered with the forces
I became a villain in the story I've written
Mother remember me chasing pavements
The ardency of the gnaw
The absurdity
Mother remember the box of darkness
The dirt in my fingernails
When the moon fell
And my guts sat heavy on my chest


Mother remember, the sweet sun on our backs before the severing from the cradle you sang to
The wind was a lullaby
Blue stained onto my faculties
Mother impending doom sits
In the pit of my stomach still
Mother don't worry, I quietened the blood
I stitched the hem of the undone
The sunrise in the east breathed life into my body
And those hands
Mother I made a home out of a bruise
girl diffused Sep 2017
₁Peering into my eyes in a darkened room
Your dog curled up, lilliputian,
Quietened behind the wall across from us
Your hands cradle my face as if I am crumbling marble
₅Venusian statue that you've finished carving
Delicacy and care reside in your fingers

I cannot see you, your everything is blurred
You are a frustratingly unfinished masterpiece
You are an out-of-focus black and white Kodak photo
Candid snapshot a girl has taken with her camera phone
Wordless and soundless,
Silent in an equally soundless room

I hear our syncopated breathing,
Softened, pulsing rhythm, cadence of your breath
Fanning across my bottom lip
You open your mouth
A sliver of light from your window
Curtains, diaphanous, like gossamer silk
Flutter in the stream of your quiet fan

You speak
My eyelids flit like moth's wings on a Spring evening
You speak
There's approximately four striations of shades
In your irises,
Flecks of opaque peridot and ochre
God drizzled in spools of honey
Swirled in the colors of crisp autumn leaves and sun-dappled orange
Called it done

I press my face against your cheek
Leave a lasting imprint of you there
Your touch will be ghost-like
I'll feel it on my skin seven months later

“You are so pretty you know that?”
Your eyes split me open
Like a cadaver whose bones were strung
With pearls and fitted with chains
Beauty in the macabre
Beauty in a breakdown
opia
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

(definition taken from "The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows")
Jude kyrie Nov 2015
She did to me.
That what springtime
does to apple and cherry trees.
My heart blossoms in wonder
after only a single kiss.

I try to explain to her
That it would take a
thousand Rembrandts
to capture her beauty
on canvas.

But she put her finger
Onto my lips and quietened me.
I want to smell the fragrance
of your blossoms
Each time I kiss you
She whispered.
Ayesha Oct 2022
Did you weep too?
when we put down our cups of hot tea and joy
they seemed to speak to the wavering air
some reticent secrets of themselves or us
I thought: death is like my father now
it names me, not after, for itself
and I smell the petalled incense of its security
security…
Security. Security.
I thought: we are written
you pull right, and I pull to left
and we go stumbling forward to papa
I thought: I am a cold bottle put in the day
I wipe my tears, and I smile at the beautiful sun
and then again, I wipe my tears, and I smile at the beautiful sun
Did you whimper?
sweetly like a child
I could have loved you if I wasn’t afraid
You say: I am always afraid
You say: it is my excuse for everything
You act so brave, you think I do not think
I have seen you in the velvet dark
crystalline eyed and thin,
not yet the woman that becomes my sin
You are just like me

I thought the eyes would swell and mama would know
so, I stopped and quietened
breathing like a valley, sniffing like lizards
We heard the city sing by
I thought: it is like a train
its tail hooked to the nose, it moves in a circle
and we are in it
Say, do you recall at all?
not more a nigh to pass, but the sentimentality fades,
and we ought to go

Say, stay?
Say, stay for a dance
However pained– a waltz of held-hand and shoe
I will try not to tremble
like that acrid tongue of forever time
Now your forehead gleams with the smear of gloom
and we are wont to let it dry
wont then, to become canvases
wont then, to hide them away, in slots of unlit places
(like ******* or... palm-on-palm or... in between bookshelves or lip)
with so many others
Remember that one? Then that, then that, then that
when we wore our shameless dresses of terror and shame
and we cursed the holy heavens of youth,
when we fought, when we fought, when ran like laughter
There was so much grief
I thought: it will eat us
I thought: I will never escape this
this name that papa wrote
on the paper of my breath
we will always be here, babes, fumbling in shawls
and pleasing the house
plaint and faint and so much like fear

Did you weep too?
I was astray in the street, I couldn’t quite see
I could’ve kissed you like the girls on TV
but mama was everywhere, and she was dressed in papa’s shadow
She said
She said—
She needn’t say anything at all

Say, did you weep at all?
I said I was afraid,
I said then so much of it, I forgot of you
Say, I don’t think you did.
16/10/2022
S Smoothie Mar 2014
Which thousandth time is this,
that  my heart and soul cry out to you?
You have knocked my world senseless yet again.
rendered me incapable, unreachable, unlovable.
I am in the space between life, death and dreams
where I can sit next to you all I want and feel home.
The rage,* quietened by our tenderness,
our tenderness stoked by our synergies aligning
The shape and shadows of our love fall on the wall,
a four armed hypnotic cobra,
two twined into one
an intrinsic vibration,
a holy peace to transcend all eternity;
I could spend forever here...
*-If I wasn't so captivated by his seductive hell.
Poetic T Nov 2014
"I killed someone today"*
"I looked him in the eye"
"Put a gun to his head"
Blood,
Brains,
Skull
Fragments litter the cotton white floor,
"But was I sorry, did I regret"
What was done,
NOoooooooo.....
"Lets rewind a moment"
There we go, a little more,
REWINddddd............
It was meant to be frustrated,
With oneself, no other just me
But you can only
Scream,
Shout,
Quietness
Is the most deafening of sounds,
Choices were thought, while looking
At that face, I should have ended it long ago,
But that was before, and know its
"To late"
I smiled when I put the gun to the forehead
Who's chicken now ******,
"I hesitated"
But then laughter spilled out,
*******,
*******,
AND ******* TOO....
Must have said it a couple of times,
Then with ease it locked back, one
Finger up in the air, one
Pulled the trigger, then  
Blood,
Brains,
Skull
Fragments litter the cotton white floor,
And I died  happy, that the voice
Never won, I had looked them
In the eye and ended this lie,
I died with a smile upon my face
And with in those moments of
Life
&
Death
I knew peace, the voices quietened and
I died  silent with a smile upon my face.
em Mar 2014
Every thought I've had,
every desire I've felt,
every word fighting to escape,
has been shushed by
the reality of the truth.

Subdued feelings and
quietened lips hold
a strong silence that
play dangerously in my ears,
in my heart.

239 souls are lost to the sea,
but in our hearts there's hope;
the angels are guiding them ,
through stars and leading them
to You.

"Goodnight", MH370.
Rai Aug 2014
Quietened moments
  Recollections of time past
Indulging within
Meditative indifference
nivek Jun 2015
I am rooted to the sky
free as a dream
Eternal as distance
closer than myself
Loved beyond imagination
cradled as a babe
Filled with energy
of the big bang
Suckled by the Sun
quietened by the Moon

— The End —