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Ma Cherie Sep 2016
You said to leave
He said to go
I want to stay
but I didn't know
then I felt a tear
as you both
RIPPED my heart in two
I come completely undone
over and over
replaying
I try in vain
there's no delete
just hit it again
reapeat, reapeat
flashes of the day I walked out
headlights facing the night alone
waiting endlessly forever
I am  sitting  by the phone
because he never called
you didn't either
finally I saw your face
couldn't erase
I heard what you said
we didn't understand
as music notes are drifting
recalling, recalling
I'm sifting
through pages
listening contentedly
to my new reality
I'm living in chains
digging up bones and finding remains
your loving keeps me here
within a prisoners tears
   sounding in the background
turns out that poetry
is everywhere
I hadn't seen it before
until I heard
that slow closing door
and finally seeing us behind me
hindsight is insight,
being 20-20
I'm blinded
lost in the dust
just a particulate
checking the rear view mirror
looking, looking, looking
the visions of brightness are gone
as darkness is coming
playing into the dawn
whispering so loudly
the skies laying  low
I'm hearing
the sounds of goodbye
and I now I know
as realizations hit me
stopped in my tracks
a broken record
skipping, skipping, skipping
tears falling from
the leaving
the only
true love I had ever known
... gone like the wind
only to be heard again
in my radio...
musings.


Cherie Nolan © 2016
To my dear love Mr.Bright & a shout out to lovely friend He Said Jenny Williams, my radio musings. : )
Ken Pepiton May 2020
To all dispairing of the future:
Fret not.
No lie, I lived the full average, mediocre mortal span;
and I have learned more than most,
in terms of starting from flat scratch.

This is a brief autobio to see if there is an autopoet
me, who may tame the beast,
before we are forced to take its *******
being gone, as a given,
ere we chase off on our own to catch the glimpse again,
pursuing haps of enlightening worth,
it must needs be an ox
for a true zenful experience... the option,
a full rut bull,
at first glimpse, who could know, is it
bull
or ox?
{see his mind wandered, a meander at the edge of any gulley,
looses little flecks of common truth we notice, you may
miss. Not intentional,
a man's treasure is where his heart/mind is balanced toward
goodness sakes alive,}
I never seen the like...

The bullriders in my past, all first rode sheep.
Beguiling creatures,
especially the little lambs from 4-H.

sappy provencal call me all the hicky names you know,
but I say true,
according to Ancestory.com, my line
was never civilised...

so call me stupid, as you wish... we
was never civilised... kind and helpful strangers, at best.

The kind of people who came to America to be true.
No other reason nor intention.

It was ten, tied to the mast, or one and run to the jungle,
so we run, son, so we run

run past the contender temptation,
run past the life of a rockstar on tv,
run past pickin' grapes as scabs on historic times...

Starting over and over and over again, in

interesting times, historic times, may you live on and know,
these are those.

And there remains, as long as you function in full double sapience,
time to start all over.

Imagine that. Speed of thought, weighing each ought for significant
power to frame evil into engines of provacative

encouragement.
Known magic spells loosed in silent songs, sung to the tune
of the assembly line,
or the helicopter encompassing my viable space,

at the time, a certainty appeared and dared me see, the worst
possible
place, imaginable and it took no time at all.

Actual worthlessness is as unthinkable as nothing, itself.
Sophists of no evil intent,
serve us well, life goes on, starting, after sudden stops,
if possible at all,
is possible to do with more sense of the blue marble being

only a tic of a historical cultural clock from any point
where ever began in the past,

a tic ago, we saw earth, from the moon, with trusted augmented eyes.
Who imagined these eyes we have,

we earthling intelligences, we thought experi-mentalists,
generally as intelligent as any mortal before us.

So, 2020 kicked ye in the buts, but but but button, button,
who has
got the button?

All life requires of you is that you honestly, honed and sharp,
slice it thin enough to see through,

one side, soul, one side, spirit. Clap that hand, bro

and agree the nobelest quest in life is happiness, as imagined

in times of chaotic order rebalancing at the next level of complexity

-- some young folks continue to study war
-- that is not as wise as once tradition claimed, great worth
-- is waisted in fitting glory on war,
-- as vain as fitting a proverb in the mouth of a fool.

So, as I was intending to do, I have done.
Is there more I can do?

I may remind you, I do not boast of knowing been-there-done-that,
as a believable state in which to play this game.
But I do know it.
-- I live in a beautiful world every time i check, the shadow
of a neighborhood raven just now cooled my toes.
Start. from any stop state,
think
I can not lie. I think. I can. Reapeat as needed for fifty years.
Lemonade, persuaded, tasted,
ah, not impossible to eat, very sweet,
would you wear a tie again for sugar?

learn the lie told true through
plastic teeth in my dotage, donchaknow, we learned some things
the hardway, but did them easily ever after.

Go find the essence of the society of the free and easy,
then join, the right
of passage is pouring peace into the pool,
trouble the water and listen,

I believe I once was worth dying for, in a story I told.
Each time, I am finding, scientifical magi-techknackical,
augmentalated me, the made up mind, integrated,
I am thinking
I am thinking.
This is good. This works.
- it goes around, and comes around
wait,
suf suf ficientcy of evil is just enough,
knowing is a connection to truth,
knowing evil is
not the push
against your shove, or the pull on your tug of war,

proud knowers rise and come to heads,
like pimples destined to defile a mirror in those years of
Anxious, 'twixt twelve and twenty-seven or so,
to be safe... when patience first ****** you off and rebel
autopoet mode kicks in a
rush to finish
urging understood shelters to form
paths through the meatmind's frontal corext
before she gets pregnant and he goes to war, in shame.

But, even after that, if I were you, I would be happy.
Far happier than any imagined hell,
formed from bigscreen
ludological plots lacking the mortality sense real war has.

War is not needed in times of peace and common sense.
These interesting times,
consider, the actual minds who intended to imagine
a benign means of publishing truth,

Turing and Feynman and Chomsky 'n'em,

those guys made their disciples believe, this "global-brain",

serves mankind, all varieties and flavors...
therefore,

they built it to survive thermo-nuclear war.

With a we-bit of faith, any sane-hope can begin to be
re
alized, and seemingly suddenly, after fifty years,
and 68 different pay-masters, reboot
seems common as any
starting from scratch after losing every thing,
as if this
is the price my kind pay to keep from fretting about
civilization defiling the earth, i.e,

to keep from fretting that it is my fault
and my response
ought to be FUD

or fuggitit. Nay

I sigh, and say breath is our common function,
breathing is my job.
Resting in peace before its too late.

Ready reader and dear writer converge to make

sense of a reason, over looked, until the observers toes touch
the brink,

I can't go on, look up, I can't fly. Look, raven thought thought

there, a ledge, a trail, imagine that... magic as if
life could call you on an adventure,
and you know
you can
survive 2020 and beyond.
So much will never be the same. Life is like that from one generation to the next, some timeses several times
The mad hatter Jul 2011
First a note
just one
then 2
a group of three
and then 4 to boot
repeat this not once, or thrice, or 4
reapeat this five, or 6 or more
then u will have The Song
u see
or maybe not
the only one who knows
*is me
Hayley Jul 2018
Cough syrup
Red
Leaves you dead
Cherry
Filled with kodine
I leave a note filled with
Tears & love
This is not your fault i reapeat
Over And over
like a catchphrase
After I have written my last words
I sneak off into the darkened bathroom
The shadows in the corners
Amplyfiying my anxiety and the darkness in my head
The emptiness of my bed
After a moment of hesitation
I bring the bleach bottle to my lips
the mint smelling liquid burning away
the skin on my soft lips
I hold the liquid on my tongue
Oh how it burned
Oh how that first drink burned
I sip two more times
Two more times
The flesh of my tongue
Lips
And throat
Raw
I cough and gag
I walk back to my room
Deafeated
I am not dead
Suddenly as I sit in my lime chair
A red gleam catches my eye
Cough syrup prescribed to me
Months ago
Three teaspoons gone from it
I unscrew the cap
Guzzling down the vile liquid
The smell, and taste enough  to make me gag
I down half of the poison
Letting it purify my insides
I smile for the first time in days
Finally free from
Burdening all who care for me
I stand my body diminishing from the inside out
My once pink insides
Now dyed a ****** red and happy
Happy to be rotting
After a few agonizing hours of awaiting to  become a rotting corpse i stumble to my kitchen and examine my mom's set of knifes
Each one has sharpened teeth designed
To cut me open like a tender cut of meat
My eyes gleam in childlike wonder as I try to pick which one will slice my veins
I choose one like a kid choosing candy
Selective and critical
Finally i pick one and slide it quickly d across my wrists
I am shocked at how much blood comes pouring
From my wounds
But i quickly become addicted
Addicted to my blood
Addicted to the pain
Addicted to the thought of my death
After several cuts
I walk to bed to see if I can become a corpse in my bed
When i awake
I am dissapointed and relieved all at once
Relieved to be alive
Disappointed to be alive
Over the day my sticky red insides
Reject any nourishment
Expelling any of it through my mouth
My thoughts run a mile a minute
I find myself unable to focus on anything
My muscles feel ghostly cold
Meanwhile my skin is boiling hot
Once my mom comes home
Rushed to the hospital
Ordered not to fall asleep
in the rumbling car
But all my tired brain
And sticky red insides want
Is a permenant
Eternal
Happy
Sleep
But i was never given that sleep
That oh so sweet release
Water was washed through me to get rid of
The toxic red in my system
Now my insides are pink and truly happy again
Happy to not be rotting and decaying
Happy to be alive
Sydney Victoria Aug 2012
Sometimes I'm Afriad,
He'll Leave Me,
Sometimes I'm Afraid,
That He'll Begin To Hate Me,
Sometimes I'm Afraid,
History Will Reapeat Itself

I'm Not Really Afraid Of Anything,
But I Am Afraid Of Being Broken Again,
Sometimes I'm Afraid,
I Won't Be Able To Control Myself,
That It's Only A Matter Of Time,
Before I Make The Same Mistakes,
I've Learned,
I've Grown,
But That Doesn't Mean,
I'll Ever Stop Being Afraid,
Afraid That All Of This Is Fake,
Afraid That He Is Lying To Me,
Like The One's Before,
I Don't Believe He Is,
But You Never Know

I Feel My Judgement Is Good,
And He Is The Begining Of Something New

It's Good Now,
But Will It Be Later?
suze suze May 2018
You are taking a walk.
The weather is perfect. The sky is cloudy, but it isn't raining, and a cool breeze is blowing. Its soothing you. You are content. Relaxed. You are walking down the empty road,  thinking of your lover/crush/ex/bestie/anyone close to you; wishing to talk to him/her, imagining yourself in a hilarious convo with him/her, holding his/her hand in yours as you walk. You couldn't be happier (or gloomier).
On the way you happen to pass a river. Being in the mood that you are, you decide to loiter near it. The view is great. Gentle tides pushing away the present.
You start walking playfully on the concrete barrier. Suddenly you trip over a rock; reaching out your hand for support, you find nothing. A sharp chill runs through your heart.
You scream out loud,though somewhere amongst the  quick thoughts in your mind you know you are going to plunge into the water.
Before you know it the cold water touches you. Splashes and drops surround you. You beat frantically your restless arms, but only cold fluid flowing. Helpless... You reapeat your ****** movements over and over again. Legs trying to run away to safety; but there's no ground. No support. Your head goes under water.. Eyes open ; you breathe in the cool liquid. You try to cough out the water, but end up taking in more and more water.
Your body starts moving down towards the bottom. You are tired. You try. But it's not enough to get out. Exhausted.. and starting to feel numb.. and sleepy and tired and all those feelings creeping in. You see leaves floating.. Feel the fish slide against your skin.. But you can't respond. You lose consciousness in between . You cease.

All your dreams, all your thoughts, all the things that made you you, its no more. Mere chemical reactions in the brain. Your mind doesn't exist to even acknowledge that you existed. Or that you died. Not a slight trace of you in that motionless body...
Take yourself through a thought of mine.
ian macleod May 2018
It's 1 am
the taste is calling again
another phone in sick
another wake up feeling muggy, here i am again
another wanting to be more
another praying
another , there must be more
another , wheres the suicide door
it cant just be this
there has to be bliss
there has to be smiles
there has to be hugs , kisses
all the things i miss
all the things i crave
no digging an early grave
drink , roll smoke
drink , roll smoke
poison , chemicals
inhaling
better still
pills
thrills
2 hour highs
20 hour lows
2 hour sleeps
24 done
reapeat
bereve
retreat
believe
no ones coming
its you and your dreams
tomorrow again
i wake up and then
its me, alone
just me, no one,
thoughts in My head
the presure
the dread
the fear
the buzz
just me
not us

— The End —