violavics Jul 2017
Quieter days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me
   that the answer lies  
perhaps there is more than one
perhaps there is none
What was it that should’ve been done

I catch her staring off into space
Then closes her eyes
for an instant, expressionless face
contagiously gleaming
then opens her eyes

I find her worries to be uninviting
Do not dare to come near
casting a spell is intertwined
With aftermath that must be endured

Immediately raising her voice
but not raising words
cannot find the right choice
resorting into vanity

Quiet days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me
that the question divides
perhaps there is more than one
perhaps there is none
What was it that could’ve been undone

I catch them gazing into place
then close my eyes
for an instant, enthusiastic face
contagiously beaming
Then open my eyes

Disengaged with comfort of my own
Do not dare to come near
breaking a spell is defined
with progress that must be lured

Effortlessly blending her dreams
but not blending thoughts
can find the right choice
morphing into sanity
July 6th 2017: Written as I was thinking of my dearest family members
Chloe Aug 3
There was a girl and she tried and tried

She would try to fix your broken bones with the bandages in her satchel.

But you looked away and never paid attention.  

She’d come to your rescue before you need her too, but you turned her away and sent her home.

She gained a voice in the back of her head, that told her all the lies she felt.

The lies felt like truth, so she listened to them.

She became abused and neglected, so she faded into the background.

She sharpened her knives and took havoc.

But she didn’t hurt you, no, instead she hurt herself because she loved to deeply and hurt so much.


She began to fade away, the scene became quieter and quieter.

You realized something was missing, when you were down and no one was around.

You didn’t know where she was, you didn’t know she was alone in her room, dark shadows around, feeling numb to the feeling while sadness overwhelmed her.

You needed her then and you need her now, but you pushed her away, and now she’s gone.

So you paid her a visit, hoping for a few sweet words and the sympathy stringing, but when you came inside you found her body beaten and bruised.

Because you weren’t there when she wanted you, you didn’t want her when you needed her, so she faded away permanently. Because the person she loved didn’t want or need her so she believed that was her fate.

Now she’s gone and there’s no coming back from this. You should’ve been there for her when she was alive and happy.

There was a girl and she tried and tried
There is a plot of land by my house
It is a sliver of the wild
Surrounded by short apartment complexes
The lights flicker all around like the torches of a large encamped  army
And the little piece of quiet grass and swamp sit
Besieged by a tired boring new world

There is a taste of an older time
When beasts were beasts
And did not care whether men made roads
It is grassy and unkempt with a small serious swamp that bears it's own fortification of differing trees
The mud does not entice
But quietly asks not to be fucked with
It says plainly, do not step in me or you will be engulfed,
I am deep and cold and full of life that does not care for such as you
I am not fun or interesting or new
I am old and uncaring
The grass says the same if only quieter.
It is unruly, unintelligible, enduring  
It is many different grasses
And plants, bundles and stalks of various heights and dispositions
Fighting for earth, for space, for the right to procreate and exist
It is full of ghosts as well

The only animals are oblivious rabbits
Domesticants in their own right
They barely run at all when I chase
Trying to remind them
That the world is in fact, still mean.
No, but there are the shadows of a world that once existed
Where men were simple guests
And an older game dominated
I walk deep into the night and imagine how it was
And the warm humid air carries the smell of old life
Brilliant and hungry with the intense and needy floral musk of plants screaming to be pollinated
While the  swamp sadly whispers
Once
Once the world was quiet
And desperate
But there was time to be
And space to be in
And everything fought so violently and hard for it
No matter how beautiful it all seemed
yurf Jul 22
All of sudden reality happens
Ruining my mind that's already jumbled
"where the hell did i just go?"
I ask to myself no one listens
Obsecurity is still in me
Recognizing situation where i have been
Looking up the sky it's already dark
Worrying something, i need to get up
Home, i need to find home
Stepping forward to pass the crowd
The longer i go, the quieter it's so
Taking my glasses off because its fogged
Focusing my lens but the blur shows
sigh
Now melancholy does it again
Lack of knowledge about locations
Lack of someone to be asked for
And there is no light to guide me on
Vision, direction, companion
I wish i could make them clearer
But in reality, they just disappear
(i already self-published this poem in my blog; quirkysnob.blogspot.com)
Chameleon Jul 22
And that's it.
It's over.
I did it and didn't even mean to.
We're over.
I left and went to my brother's.
I needed one of my siblings.
We went back to my house later and he was gone.
It's quiet.

Much quieter.
I left and went on a drive.
I ended up at Hueston Woods and sat by the dam.
I listened to the water and felt the breeze and just stared.
It doesn't feel real. Not yet.
Even though now I'm home and it's still quiet.
I'm getting drunk and smoking weed and letting my dog run all over the house that my brother and his boyfriend just so kindly cleaned.
I haven't eaten all day and I called off work.
I'm not ready to sit in this so I'm playing music very loud as I write this.
Funny enough Dan hasn't texted me back all day.
Shit. Maybe all guys are the same lol

Whatever. I want to be alone anyway.
Chris Neilson Jul 27
(No geese were harmed in the making of this post)

In April 2012 my wife and I attended a literary festival in Scarborough. We networked with various authors as we were staying in the same hotel as most of them. When I say "networked" I mean I looked on in awe of them in the breakfast room and the bar in the evening. Andy Kershaw had a book out at the time and he got through at least one massive “full English” at the table next to us whilst slurping tea and tapping into a laptop. My literary "career" was very much still at it's nascent stage so without having a published book myself to talk about I felt somewhat out of my depth.

On a sunny spring Saturday afternoon we decided to venture out to Peasholm Park in a quieter part of the town. In the centre of the park is an island with a waterfall and one linking bridge. This looked very becoming so I was eager to explore further. As we crossed the bridge there were some hastily written warning signs that the island was currently home to nesting Canada geese which could be very aggressive.

As I am a real man I disregarded this as poppycock so we continued onto the island and up a steep curved path towards the top of the waterfall. Around halfway up there were a couple of geese just to the right of the path on a grassed area.  As we drew level with them one approached me and hissed menacingly.  I laughed in its beaky face and used a vulgar turn of phrase towards the angry goose, that’s “f* off” to you and me, and continued up to the waterfall not realising at the time that this goose had well and truly marked my card and was now biding it's time safe in the knowledge that his moment would come again.

After spending time in some beautiful gardens we made our way back. As there only appeared to be one path in and out from the gardens back down to the bridge, we re-traced our steps. Half way down I noticed the same 2 geese again.  One was female and nesting. However, her husband, that I had the run in with earlier, was now standing tall in the middle of the path. He was wearing an expression of "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough Manc knobhead".

As we got closer he took a couple of steps towards me and reared up, flapping his wings and spitting in the most hideous fashion. His body language was screaming  "You're not laughing now are yer" " Tell me where to go did yer?!" "I'm going nowhere!".  The stand off continued for another minute or so. He wasn't backing down. I took a step to the right and he did the same. I took a step to the left and same again. All the time he was flapping and spitting. His tongue was serpent-like.

I decided I wasn't going to be beaten by a stupid devil goose! I made one more attempt to pass him then he lurched at me. I “ducked” out of the way of his satanic beak. I took a few further steps back and was so wound up I considered hitting him in self defence but quickly noticed there were various signs nearby indicating we were on CCTV. 

I could vision the headlines in The Scarborough Herald, "Mancunian Madman Punches Goose In Beak". I accepted defeat so we headed back up the path the way we came. As I looked behind me,  my nemesis followed us a few steps and was straining his neck forward in some kind of parting shot.
As we got further away he stopped, then returned to his nesting goose wife.
We eventually found another path avoiding the Canadian goose thug and were able to escape unscathed. 

Back at the hotel that evening I did consider sharing this tale with the writers in the bar but decided to avoid losing any writer‘s credibility before it had even started,  so instead used my well worn avoidance tactics and ate a packet of dry roasted peanuts and went upstairs to watch Match of the Day.
It's all true. I fully understand this was natural behaviour from the geese concerned. However, when you have a crazed goose flying at you with razor sharp teeth, self defence is paramount.
Özcan Sh Jul 18
Their screams
Makes me quieter
Their attacks
Make me stronger
Their broken hearts
Made me cry.
J Cole Jul 27
Your friends in the fishbowl
were gone.
Some days you fell and
scraped your knee,
and no one would know.
So some days
you would rather
read books
you didn't understand
alone.

7. You thought
you could write a song
with the old piano
in the living room.
But they told you off
because they said
it was
loud.

8.
9.
10. You had
a new pet,
and it was a dog.
You didn't
dislike it.
Some days
you missed
your pet fish.
11.
12.
You had always known
you liked
loud music,
but not as much
as you did
when you were twelve.
So some days
in your room you would
jump up the bed
and throw stuff around
because the music
you liked made you
angry.

13. You didn't celebrate
your birthday,
but you got
your first guitar.
Some days
you felt like smashing it into
pieces.

14. You had
three cakes
and you forgot about
your thirteenth
birthday.
And you got a gift
from a friend
for the first
time
and that made you
happy.
You forgot about
your music.

15. Your friends started to
slip away.
You were
quieter, they said.
You started to like someone,
and they liked you back,
but you shoved it
in a far corner
in your
heart.

16. You had to move
and you didn't take
the dog
with you.
You forgot about
the dog.
You started
to realize
that when you were
fifteen
you were
the one who
slipped away.

17. You were interested
in
music
again.
In music
much louder
and much
angrier
and hated anybody
else who
listened to
it.
You started
to write poems
and hated anybody else
who wrote their
poems.

18. You became
angry
with  lots of things
and then
at the end of the day
you wish you were
happy.

19. Finally you were
happy.
But some days
are just dark.
Finally you liked someone
again.
But you didn't think
they would
like you back.

20. You're not a
kid anymore
but you still fall and scrape
your knee.
And you are still afraid
of lots
of things
and you don't think you'll ever
be good enough.
But some days you just
stop caring
and you become
happy.
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