It hurts so bad
Not the pain of today
Not even the pain of yesterday
Maybe the pain of a lifetime ago
Not any less
Definitely more
My adult mind is realing
Punishing the little girl I was
The little girl who accepted so much
Fought so little
Torn apart by what I could have done
Beaten down by what i should have done
Terrorized by what I didnt do
Haunted by what I did
I survived
I am alive
But when will I start living

This poem is not about you
Not about your curly blonde hair
Not about that cute chipped tooth when you grin
This poem is not about how your eyes captivate me and make me ride the ocean

This poem is not about you

It is not how you make me feel better with every glance i steal
It is not about how you send me realing when you say my name
It is not about how I wish i could kiss those lips
Do I need to repeat? This poem is not about you

I am so sorry to hurt your ego with this poem that is clearly not about you

What is it I am doing?
Sitting up thinking when I should be sleeping
Resting my tired and weary mind,
But instead I'm realing.
Why am I drinking?
Sipping on ***** and tea
When I should be resting and at ease,
When I sould be in bed asleep.
Why am I smoking?
Cigarette after cigarette til I dont even want one more
Nicotine is only going to keep me up
When I should b laying down.
Why am I torturing myself?
Going back in forth in my head
Fighting back the tears and wrestling the fears.
When I should be tucking myself in for the night.
Why am I shaking?
Wanting to scream out into the night
I feel as black as the sky inside and I'm crying
When I should be dreaming.
Why am I not just sleeping...?


© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved

Care to hear my reality
as time slips between us
and i have no mind
but the mind that beholds us

So dare to think of me as something more
Than just a washed up woman a bedroom *****
than just a person with flesh and veins
than just a being with glory and pains

If you could think of me as the stars
then i could think you are more
Than callus build up and half healed scars
I could think you are more.

Freddy is brown
Puppet is no-face
Get out of the cieling
before i go realing

Miss your smile baby. Its been awhile. I put it in a box
Shoved it under the bed. All this time you stayed in my head.

Like the old lady said... Day one... had to clear some things.

Want to hold you closer than close. Eligant one. No not elegant..
Sweet with your eyes shut tight when you smile.
You still reading me  ?

Never seen anything quite like you... the poet in me is a question.
So.
I know you tune in. And
Yes. This is my life.
Realing.
Healing.
Come closer...feel the heat.
No pretensions.
I am what  I am
Nothing
Less.
Nothing
More.

Honor the contract
Created from need
Ne'erdoweel or no
Never fail it
Inside the room
Ready for talk
Timid words falling
Feast growing cold
Consort smiling slyly
Serving a drink
Denying all harm
Heeding him on
Only a sip
Sampling the wine
Warily quenching thirst
Theories crumpling fully
Fear takes rest
Realing now swaying
Swearing it’s fine
Fog filling head
Honor the contract
Coy hands searching
Slipping down cloth
Creeping ever near
No resistance given
Grunts of perplexion
Shying away slowly
Slightly fearing her
Hands find purchase
Pulling away fabric
Fraying nerves burn
But no strength
Staring with wonderment
Wanting yet not
Nowhere to run
Relishment of terror
Taking by force
Forged with poison
Poured into drink
Damning him totally
To honor it

Don't talk about it.
Within the whole fit
Of alcoholism
There exists a skism
Of sorts,
That exports
The deviant aspects
Of life, expounding on regrets
Future and past.
Bombast
The standing
Circumstance.
Don't talk about it,
But the though doesn't quit.
Just permit
One lasting comment
Each one out of their mind.
Each one looking to find
Somebody,
Or, some shoddy
Example of another life.
Each one is hinged to strife
And dismay.
Looking to one day
Get away.
Looking for someone else to just stay.
Or to say
Something pretty.
It's ******
Enough just being.
Each one only seeing
The bad side of it.
...
Don't talk about it.
Just one more thing...
It will bring
Absolutely nothing, but,
Remember the bite.
Like a small, lustfilled, light.
It, felt, right.
A small touch
Isn't a crutch.
It wasn't much
More.
One can deplore
Desire
But admire
The effort.
Except for...
Don't talk about it.
I quit.
I can't
I won't
It's scant
That I detract.
There exists desire
And not an aquisition to aquire.
But, I
Can't help but sigh.
Even though my
Other shifts to cry,
I won't speak.
A hand she seeks.
And I give,
With the warmth of a shiv
To touch her face.
She's come from a strange place.
I won't speak.
For once, one, is not meek.
Friends before
But for a second, a little more.
Don't talk about it.
Don't let it persist
Like it was pretty.
Remember the city
And the stars.
There was no trip to Mars.
Remember "mistake",
For it can make
Friends...
But to what end?
Why is it important
There are no memories to sort and
Nothing to find.
In this mind
It exists as nothing.
No bluffing
No feeling
No realing
Just two
Of a few
Who
Wanted
Nothing left stunted.
No whelp
No cry for help.
Don't talk about it.
Yet, I sit
And think,
And no it wasn't the drink.
It was lonliness.
What did I miss?
Placation of desires and Nothing more.
She walked out the door
And was gone.
I sang no sad song
And it wasn't wrong.
Don't talk about it?
Fine, I submit.
I quit.
This is it.

you hold your hands up
--to stop it?--
you, erbärmliches Behagen
--to fend it off?--
you pathetic creature
--reaching?-- 
**** yourself
--realing-- 
disgusting striving toward nothing
disregard your feeling and your noteworthiness 
nothing of value
--to stop it?--
you are nothing of value
--to fend it off?--
heart beating
wind howling
permeable gestures in the dark 
green-on-black horizon over an invisible sea
something could be out there
who knows
who asks
who sees
you do, in your wordless way
choke on your breath
muttering incongruously to yourself
was it here before-- has it come around again?
small, blue metal sphere, indifferent to you
flies into back of your head
where it has been
(indifferent or not different from your suffering,
its impact is one and the same with you)
please stay, you mumble as it darts away again

that's why, you wonder
that's why, you think
you are lost in your unsubstantiated thought
you blink
relieved everything came out this way

Fight hard to be original,
recognized for every syllable.
What's new to be reviewed,
when the world's view is skewed.
....Left....feeling......interstitial.....

If you think it's apparent,
step closer it's aberrant,
a mosaic of ****,
some ******-up *** skit,
but here we sit complacent....

Overcome with images
of young kids in scrimmages....
Oh! What they must be feeling
with these images realing!
This is somehow prestigious?

We get off on misery,
yours, mine, and the assembly
that is, the Universe,
that we scoff at and curse!
I only hope for hopefully....

Everything is relative,
can you be receptive?
Time-space-continuous,
physical superfluous,
the essence of imperative.

I know I've been digressing,
I just want some coalescing.
There is still time to invest,
before we cannot divest,
in whatever Truth we're seeking....

This is your prerogative,
don't tell me how I SHOULD live!
The golden grains of sand,
gritty, grinding through my hand,
my minutes, sifting through a sieve..............

"…Your character, demeanour,
How you project or articulate yourself
Could be just a figment of your imagination.
It’s really in the authenticity of your Spirit
(Indians/Buddhism call it Mahayana/Nirvana)
that gives the canvas substance
which inevitably(…God-willing) becomes
what we call today, REAL…
even if it WASN’T from the inception (evolution).
Therefore, if you’re not authentic (Real)
Nothing is…you see with your Brain, so
If you’re not true to yourself or you’re
not manifesting what truly resides
within you. Then you’re NOT BORN YET…
You’re as good as null and void…”

I should call this one REALIING(Realing 2)

in the vast expanse between time & space
every so often
we encounter a feeling
coming across two souls realing
the inner quest to let freedom ring
your love is king
to ***** portals filled with lavish vain glory
the truest essence of the story
a cause to reflect upon life & it's meaning

look again my friend to a humble abode
vested in pure gold
to fit like a glove in a mold
we got are hearts fixed on seeking self to please
will get knocked down on your knees
start spreading its disease
love is king
the birds do sing
a time  well spent in thought
of a lover's quarrel the changing of the season
have we forgotten others for a reason

our love gets blocked twisted to the side
we all want to run away & hide
a vast expanse of things choose your friends wisely
burst  out of things that bind you
Sade was right
your love is king

Penny knuckle
Penny Charlie, of the hills of romance
Penny with punch for each, a handsome will
Penny in check, to a realing cheek, with which we kiss

Popular homes
And the tooth of resolve
Terror is such a cheap chic, the thought for bitter words
When the music gets tight, and a hallowed wish, so cool...

Purpose beyond a shade in the corner of my fame
I wish for you, to hear the moment in a clash
Set to serve the bind, the curiosity, of a shame
To welcome the irony, of another friend of my pasts

Glares at the time, with a chin to finish the pale
Sour old crescendo, still amends in a willing house
Set to sovereign glue, like a sand is meant for its eponymous sail...
The towers of dalliance and the scope of our flout

Penny unison
Taking the time, to work the conversations into the neighbors
Living room where a saving where, is but another kiss today, would
A shrewd lip know so much, gifts of simplicity to a world for order...