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ryn Sep 2014

Fix
me•
Mend
me•Stitch
me•Overhaul
me•Amend me•
Alter me•Modify me
•Enhance me•Patch me•
Adjust me•Heal me•Correct
me•Reform me•Shift me•Renew
me•Remedy me•Rebuild me•Aid
me•Assist me•Change me•Rectify
me•Troubleshoot me•Revive me•
Assemble me•Calibrate me•
Service me•Love me•
Repair me
In dire need of servicing and maintenance... Spare parts are in short supply...
Arke Jul 2018
when I craved kindness, passion, and fire, I stole
and they say no one person can complete you
but love, when you look at me, I am whole
and maybe we'll have thirty years together
but know the past century we were souls
intertwined with my arms around you

you make me beautiful when life takes a toll
I used to think that love only bruised
you've taught me that it's not about control
I used to think that pain was all that remained
but you came with love to heal and console
and show me the good that comes after midnight
ethan gaskill Jul 2018
to the girl
still picking up
pieces of her heart
like books dropped
in a hallway

"hi, my name is ethan
i'd like to love you
if that's okay with you"

your heart can be kintsukuroi
we'll fill in the fractures
left by some past fool
with gold

because what better material
to rebuild a broken heart?
than the material from which
knock on wood
our rings will be made?
s 4d
When you make a mistake, and fix things,
you learn and glow.
When you welcome the lessons this brings,
you blossom and grow.
you become better than ever before
The uniVerse Jun 2018
Beauty lies bereft and bound
it cries for help but utters no sound
mascara kisses fade from your lips
etched by lovers worn fingertips
purple rings around sullen eyes
the broken skin it never lies
fists of thunder make not the man
nor the swift strike of back of hand
a thousand apologies can never repair
the displacement of a single hair
for she is not an object for you to own
she is a Queen that deserves a throne
and if she allows you to enter her chamber
it's also her decision if you should remain there.
her beauty is boundless
and cannot be tamed
all those who try
should be shamed

***** I have shared my poems on this website now since 2015 and this is my first daily, it has been a privilege and I appreciate all the lovely comments <3 *****

https://www.instagram.com/p/BpaxPgdFnQu/
Maggie Sorbie Aug 30
We found one slug
yesterday
in my bathroom
This doesn't seem
hygienic to me
I wish the workmen
would hurry up
and do their job
putting a new floor
and drain in
They've been looking
and contemplating
without actually
doing it
yet

They give me the heeby jeebies
Poetoftheway Aug 2018
,how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)




<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
Whit Howland Jul 25
past simile
past metaphor
we longed again
for clanking

fact

the shrieking
so bad
we could no longer
turn our backs
or shut the door

we called

a plumber worked
into the night

violently
snaking the drain

his pound of cure
could only repair


whit howland  © 2019
Daniel eason Dec 2018
As time go's by i wonder why
Did i do this for a reason
Stop acting like theres no change of season

Mystical borderlines which separate the unconcious and reailty
Might just be what we need to grasp you see

Visualisations of landscapes
Sat in one place but i feel the escape

Codes, manuscripts and hidden information
Might make more sense
Once the creation
Has been done correctly
The only way it can be

Trial and error
Everyday is its own
First or last
Present and past

This train ride has never been so fast
I want it to last
But it doesnt
I feel like the tracks are broken beyond repair
All i wish is to be back to square
A poem about my life
Clay Feet Feb 2015
***
Crack in the ceiling
Expensive repair.

Crack in the glass    
Duct tape

Crack of a switch
Stripe the *****

Crack of a gun
Someone's done

Crack the vein
Relieve pain

Crack of lightning
Frightening

Crack the whip
Obey

Crack my skull
My mind mulls

Crack the mirror
Old wives’ tales dither

Crack the door
It's  her …

Crack of her ***
Beautiful tail
Ends this tight little piece
Quickie
I feel like when our bodies and souls meet,

we melt together into a formless mass,

reshaping us into one mind of love and understanding.

Without a positive example of love,
how could someone ever love again?

Love is always the answer and the medicine.

Fight fear with love...
In his autobiography Muhammad Ali said:
"A man get old quick when he don't get love,
an unloved man is the endangered species.
A man gets brain damage and ulcers when he ain't around love.
A man minus love is a wrinkled man
but a beloved man is smooth.
The people who love you demand more of you."
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Am I really that uncouth?
Have you lot yet worked out the truth.
The **** I write, it's so contrite.
I know you're dim
but I thought you might.
I've been feeding bananas to you all.
Big bananas, none are small.
All are bent, of course they are.
Enough's enough, it's gone too far.

Dear Voyeurs, to all my fans.
Some ride cycles, some drive vans.
for M&Y, yeah you're the guy.
So I bait my line and continue the lie.
But let's have it right, as well I might.
You wanted to play,
so pretended you're ***.
Now most I know aren't,
but one or two do.

Boiler repair guy with the twinkly eye.
Bent over in two, I spank with a shoe.
And all that he asks is, I call him Sue.
So I have him pegged,
for that's what he begged.
But now he knocks on my door
wanting much more.

******' Big Bent Bananas
by Kaydee.

(slurp, slurp)
Threw some big bananas out today.
Hope you all enjoyed the show.
How many of you busted a nut?
*******, none of you can even walk straight.
M&Y, Regenda, Big time Charlie, and you lot at 4am the taxi rank?
Not understanding what or why I'm doing what you can see, you just drank it all in.
Well here's some more. Only difference is here, just like I do mine, you all know your own truths and what is absolute *****, eh boiler repair guy!
Go on then drink it all up!
Denise Uy Sep 2018
I'm not great like the ancient Greeks.
My door is tattered, unoiled, and it creaks.
The glass coffee table now in pieces,
mirroring thousands of broken perspectives.
The clothes on the floor, reflecting the messy
internal view of my life.

But I can fix it, can't I?
I could oil the hinges of my door,
brand new like it was before.
I could buy a stronger table,
no longer dysfunctional
and unable.
As for my clothes, I'll just fold them back.
It's really not a daunting task.
Some parts are easy, some are pretty tricky
and repair takes time but go on
and fix your life.
Note to self: Start changing your life.
Smoke Scribe Aug 2018
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a  floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability

imagine that

where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain

imagine that

the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be

imagine that

a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free

imagine that

and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed

imagine that

you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret

I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when

we imagine that

for this how new healthy cells  are born

quiet-now,  go, imagine-that, now
if you recognize yourself within, it is no accident!
thank u all for the love and appreciation. one writes many poems in many disguises, so it is hard to believe  that an 8 month old poem, sent to you for safekeeping, is shortly thereafter barely recalled.
and then is rebirthed, and wouldn’t change a word...
imagine that!
s Willow Jan 2
My Existence can be summed up as a broken robot beyond repair
Useless
Rally works and when it does
***** up the job.

Left behind as trash.
No one wants it.
Could be used to creat new,
probably shouldn't the new will start broken.

Over all I am nothing but,
a broken robot beyond repair.
v V v Jul 2018
I have been to where
the lonely go, and I’ve
seen their luring towers,
calling those who
have no hope, who come
from far away to see

if coming was a mistake.

Will we ever know
who doesn’t go?
and what of those that go
but remain unknown?
Perhaps they go at night.

The horror of it.

To not be able to see the end
but still it comes and quickly.
A silent floating moment
in a winter of regret,
a springtime of longing,
a summer of sunshine,
Or a fall to the end

of the world in 7 seconds.

A super cosmic collider of
meticulous destruction.

Whether we stay or go
its all the same,
multi-layered levels of
brokenness,
no one is immune.
No one is immune.

Some spend time putting
things back together,
the spacing in the levels allows it.
Others break over and over
and over again,
no space for repair

while the pull of the towers,
the flaming red towers and
the fog rolling down
from the west promise silence.

When I stood at the edge and looked over,
the noise was deafening.

The ones without space
cannot hear.
Life,
is how people get broken
and love,
how people get fixed.
Patrick Mar 2018
I am a broken vessel, searching for the soul that has slowly leaked since the day that you went away. There was no warning of rapture, nor apocalyptic gore, that could scare the way you did when you walked through that door.

Your love I felt breath into me the soul I thought I did not contain. But truly spoken, you only awoke it. The love inside I held tight as if my last breath in the dead of night. For dead inside is what I was, a soul repressed with no ever sought rest.

Love I felt but could never own. Know this I did, but even so; When you find love so bold, so blindingly bright, do you turn away? Cast aside your eyesight? Or do you simply stare, perhaps take action, and hope that you can one day hold the love that is the only way to repair?

My soul, my heart, my life.

All of these I offered you and asked only to share in your golden light. But a fool I was, not just once or twice...But again and again until the flame that once had tempered this bridge destroyed what had blossomed before it could bud.

I was not honest and tried to deceive this paragon of love that I saw in front of me. Instead of my soul, I showed only this mask; The one without substance or mass.

Now here I lay, here I think back. The empty vessel; Broken glass. To love so pure, beyond even Divine grasp. For even God punished, even God became irate, but with you, I felt nothing but a calm sense of fate. If I had only shown you my soul, instead of this mask, I have to wonder: Would we have last?
Lizzy Jan 2015
I loved the bitter taste,​​​​​​​
I miss the dusty air I breathed.
But time has come to give that up,
To let go of my chemical scars.
I will bandage myself up,
Repair my lonely hear,
And leave my old life of war,
For a calmer future.

I made my mistakes,
But my mistakes have not won.
My blood will never be pure,
But the evil has been killed.
Heal, Raphael! Saint on Deep Wounds repair
As the Fifth Great Angel will now allow
With Thanks as my Tray for Modesty's care
Her well-written Paper of Words everhow
And that Plus-Filled Bulb called Inspiration
Installed by the Lad diving from your Wing
Your Feather reveals such Uncondition
Like the Seven rest their Model do sing
Thorns, Horns and Unreasonable Intent,
Those Demons you Eight managed to repel
Pre or Post-Ring, one Thing I am content
That Plym's Living Daughters know how to Spell.
Especially you. The First of your Kind
Your Prince rejoices. Please bear that in Mind.
#daleysangels #xlaurenrobsonx
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
He owned books on many subjects
leather bound, with complex concepts
on which he'd ponder and reflect

He had it all, in some respects.

He could lecture quantum physics,
English literature and economics
He was renowned in academics

Though many found him quite eccentric

He explored the world only to find
That there's more to life than a brilliant mind
That there was a piece of him...undefined

See, He had never loved. He'd never pined

He knew all the math, knew all equations
He'd been to every corner of every nation
He'd learned 28 languages, knew every translation

But he was distraught by this realization

The pain he felt was too great to bear
He sank into the deepest and darkest despair
His heart was in need of dire repair

Finding love was his only prayer

He bumped into her by happenstance
and what began as an ephemeral glance
became a sucker punch from romance

She thought he was sweet, so she gave him a chance

That's when the world's smartest man finally learned how to dance
Somewhat inspired by the Dr. Who episode "The Doctor Dances"
WS Warner Oct 2011
Static, memories
Emanating, separating  
The postcard- perfect
Still life speaks
From its storied past.
Invisible, to drift
Among  
The florid aphorisms,
Ending in
Deleterious debris,
Aftermath of
The inevitable.

Empty room, echo hollow
Tabula rasa -
Carpet clean, quite candid in it's
Return to callow.
Consciousness athirst,
Absorbing phenomena
Effervesce, inquisitive
Ideas foment,
Sealed inside a question.
The what -
Against the narrow
Scarcity,
And fatigue of should.

A tender malleable
Youth,
Betrayed, under
An assumed decorum -
Residue of truth,
Flattened emotion
Privations of a self
Unheard;
Misplaced affirmation,
Buried pathologies  
In architecture
Fear manifests symbolic.

Harboring apathy
The lunacy of pious
Pedigree,
Import contagion,
Fetters of benignity
Doubt and indecision  
Into ******
Cognizance,
Fallow spirits
Seep fumes of decay,
Credulity bleeds a human stain.

Social edifice, inoculated  
Heirs of neurosis;
Palpable, sensual pain
And transience, though
Tacit - remain,
Our haunted history,
The blind hyperbole,
Maudlin
Forbearance, this haven,
A portrait
Of immaculate condition,
Nurtured with precision
Under sterling pretense.

Provincial domicile -
House beautiful,
Savage irony -
Unseen treasure
Innocence unabridged,
Faces, tiny creations;
Compliant vessels
Wounded,  
While modernism murmurs  
Its promise.

Brave New World,
In a late model sedan,
Domestic ranch on a
Corner lot,
Suburban natives,
Silence means security.
The misunderstood
Speak louder -
Consumerism beneath    
Unvarnished ambition,
Never could
Repair the brokenness within...

© 2011 & 2018 W. S. Warner
Deb Jones Feb 18
He didn’t seem threatening, yet I had spent six months fighting the urge to trust him. At one time, I’d inherently trusted people, but experience is the best teacher, and even the most trusting child, with enough provocation, can grow into an adult who’s always wary—even as she hides behind open smiles and friendly conversation.

Trust
So easily broken. So wickedly hard to repair.
Deep the scars of iron bars
when oft we're laid so low
young or old, scared or bold
light takes time
too grow
~TF
Elsa Sep 2
Don't expect mankind to repair you. When you've already been broken way before they seem to notice. When they’ve turned their backs on you, seeing but never really doing anything to help.
Chris Thomas Nov 2017
Metallic heart,
Savor what you can
While you can
And rest where you lie

Rain.

Sanguine flesh,
I will pierce thee
To feverishly rip, and tear
At these rusted-over heartstrings

Rust.

Sluggish pulse,
Hand over calloused hand
Wipe the luster from her brow
And drown me in the clamor

Pain.

Dangerous dreams,
I smell the rain from years away
I recede, and believe
That time won't repair this erosion

Lust.

.
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