Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ashley Centers Aug 2010
Where midnight is bright as day and time never does slow down
I find myself alone for the first time ever, walking along where
nobody knows who I am and they wouldn’t really care if they did.
Because they’ve got their own stories to fabricate and skeletons
to bury beneath onionskin layers. Two in the morning with my head
stretched to the sky and I find myself falling in love with a stranger.

Central Park is a castle with horse-drawn carriages and suddenly
I’m a scarlet-cheeked princess waiting for my naked cowboy to rescue
Me so we can run away and live in a quaint Brooklyn townhouse where
the children play ghetto games. I don’t want to live the lifestyle of the rich
and famous. Leave me to myself so I can wander the splendid city streets.

The man with wrinkles covering his ebony face and his ragged, dusty clothes
too big for his slender body sneaks a glance and sly grin at me before he picks
up his golden saxophone and serenades the subway passengers, bringing
sunshine and sultry smiles to their dark faces. He’s had a painful, wretched life
and the pain of losing a son, his first baby, to a grenade in a Middle Eastern desert
where the sun burns the soldiers’ skin as they spend hour after hour, looking for weapons they’ll never find.
The look in his eyes is clear. Making others smile, in the middle of the city subway is his heart’s content.
I drop a bill into his beaten up case and move along,
but that sweet sound overwhelming the hot, ***** air I’ll never forget.

I swear I can almost touch Pluto from where I sit, at the Top of the Rock, and the stars
are an arm’s stretch away. I can see past the Manhattan skyline and into Jersey.
I’ve seen the whole world tonight. How I wish I may, how I wish I might stay. Give me the crowded
streets and boutiques for keepsakes. I’ll pack them tightly into tissue paper and each
night when I’m ready to fly away from the small town girl living in a lonely world sort
of life I’ll make a wish and fall in love all over again in a city where nobody knows my name.
Copyright 2010 Ashley Centers
nv Oct 2014
Yesterdays are just the freckles on today's clear skin,
and yet you cry and call them blemishes.
I would do anything, just to fit in
But what I give, no one will take.

She spins in circles, and sings to the stars
Iron weights are sewed to my skin
I could hurt someone
I can't lift off
I can't  even  stand up

A disease has got into my soul and it's killing me like the rest
I feed my own insecurity, self pity, I loathe me
Some body rescue

But no
I will not take another's hand for too many's bitten off
Instead I'll smile and say
    'I'd much prefer to sit'
Alexandra Mora Dec 2014
It always amazes me
how gullible some people can be.
For they never take the time to try and see
just what the heck is going on with me.
They never take the time to realize
that all of my pain is hidden in my eyes.
Nor does it ever come to their minds that those tears  of “joy" are actually tears of sorrow.

I’ve masked my pain for too long!
I don’t know how much longer I can hold on!
All I think about now is how much I long for that release,
by which people refer to as only something done by those who are weak.

They don’t understand how at ease it makes some of us feel
to cut ourselves and watch ourselves bleed.
They don’t understand that for some of us it feels good to do so
because it feels like we are ridding ourselves of our burdens.

I’ve masked my pain for so long
that it's getting to the point where I'm about to lose hope.
Yet there is a very faint voice inside my head
that tells me that someone in this world full of shades of gray,
that doesn't believe in my falsified bliss
and that they're coming to my rescue.

I really want this to be true,
so that my life will no longer be so blue.

I want to get rid of all of the lies
and say goodbye to this mask once and for all!
I myself don't cut or suffer from depression, but I do have friends that used to and I wrote this poem to express, in their words, what they felt like. This poem is dedicated to one friend in particular (whose name I shall not say), because she suffered from depression and cut herself for a very long time (long before I met her but it did last until about 1 year or 2 after I met her) because she had lost a few loved ones on the way (unfortunately, most of them were close friends of hers that  committed suicide. These people were people that she tried to help, and I know that she put in every last ounce of strength that she had to help them.) I don't know if she has a Hello Poetry account, but if she does, and she happens to read this poem, I want her to know that I care about her and that I will ALWAYS be there for her no matter what!
Valerie Mar 2011
I don't need you to rescue me
I'm no damsel in distress
I can take care of myself
I can get out of this mess.

As much as I want to be rescued
I can't let you save me all the time
I don't need a hero, I swear
I can get up this climb.

I wish I could just have no back bone
And let Superman rescue me from fall
But I'm too stubborn, and independent for that
I'm not some delicate china doll.

I'm a Superwoman myself
Even if I still know how to cry
I can take care of my problems
I don't need you to kiss them goodbye.

It would be nice, I must say
To have my life a clean slate
But that's something I have to do myself
Something that's part of my fate.

So you can kiss me Superman
But I won't let you save my day
I don't need your super powers
Go save someone else for a change.
SSK<3  AKA: Valerie Garcia
mark john junor Mar 2016
a salty treason made of tears
betraying her subtly for the tender heart she has
as she counted souls on the road to perdition
she asked that they all spare an ounce of paint
so she could wrest a better image for herself in
the fashion magazines
lovely she lay wrapped in the golden glow of sunlight
expressing all of her hopeful dreams
that others would have left littering the road to redemption
lovely she inked herself into the trending news
and spread a carpet of rose petals for her to lay on
waiting for rescue
we are all lovely on the road to perdition
we all dream big dreams of where we always hoped to be
we all paint our loves on our sleeves
in brilliant colors
never expecting the tears
never wanting a salty treason
Waverly Apr 2012
My drunk dreams
are astounding.

I wake up
at four
in the am.

have a smoke.

Then go back to sleep,
still tipsy.

Judy Greer
makes it to the farthest
reaches of my imagination,
and I must save her
from
a
man
with a hundred
groping hands.

A girl with a spirit
full of the ripest sunrises
in their peaches,
pinks
and plums
must be told
that it is ok
to be this sad
in the morning.

When there is no reason,
and night is crying
over
its demise.

I must take her from the sky,
to take her to my bed,
where we lay naked
having never ******,
but because it's much easier
to tell the truth
when skin is touching.

It is much easier
to feel human,
when you are touching
them
unadulterated.

I must rescue
the world in my dreams,
I must eradicate
disrespect
and
cat-calls.

I am the defender
in my dreams.

Why is it that I dream of saving women,
because I have been told
to do so?

Or because
I am doing what comes natural?

Or maybe
I am just hurt,
and when I am hurt,
I want to save people.
Catherine Jan 2014
“Stand up and show every one how tall you are”, that is what Grandma would

always say. She showed us off and I took a secret pride in parading around on

display for whichever stranger had wandered into her room on that particular

visiting day. Grandma noticed the finer details, the things that we sometimes

took for granted as a healthy and growing family. Visiting her would bring us

back to these basic observations; she always made Grandmotherly comments

on how much we had grown, how we had improved in our various instruments,

increased by five shoe sizes, grown our hair and moved onto the next stages in

school and life.

Grandma lived a long and interesting life. As a young woman she was moulded

by the war before living through a lifetime of change and revolution, a lifetime

in which Granddad and her raised four children. It would be impossible to sum

her up in this short speech. Nevertheless, one thing springs to mind when I think

of her – that she was a strong woman. Over the past two years I have come to

fully appreciate the relationship that we had with her, and the security that her

constant presence in our lives gave us. How could my mind ever erase those

wonderful afternoons when Grandma would present us with an assortment of

stale, out of code sweets in recycled shortbread tins and empty Clover tubs? I

don’t think that my digestive system has recovered yet. Nor could I ever forget

the numerous afternoons spent running wildly through the orchard in Grandma

and Granddad’s back garden, chasing the flurries of butterflies that inhabited

the rose bush every year while Granddad lovingly looked on, only intervening

to rescue the poor insects when we accidentally grasped their patterned wings

too tightly. I can see Grandma perched on the bench by the conservatory, and

suddenly my mind overflows with memories from the bungalow that we all

know so well. The smell of Grandma’s freshly baked Eve’s pudding is not one I

often stumble upon in Bangkok but I can smell it now, and of course I remember

sitting around the dining room table eating greasy fish and chips from the local

chippy. I remember the room off the kitchen where we would lose ourselves in

all of the toys and games, cast a sceptical eye over the ancient television before

moving on to study the shelf of family photographs where I first learnt about all

of the other generations that make up our family.

This is what today is about; it is about surrounding Grandma with the generation

that will live on. One generation ends but another generation continues on in

its place. This morning is about seizing on the fragments of Grandma’s life that

we all share, the memories that we remember together as a family. Death can

be an uncomfortable subject, especially when we feel we have to dwell on the

person’s absence, on the fact that this person has gone and that we can no longer

feel, touch or smell them. But I believe that we should celebrate the life that our

Grandma had.

We miss her, and we love her.
Tom Blake Mar 2016
Listen to me through tears
Rescue me from my fears
Acknowledge
My pain.
Help me
Understand
This
Journey.

Make
MY transitions in Life
Less severe,
With
No more confusion,
Pain,
Fears...and never, no no never
Be
Shy
To say...HELP...ME!

Elevate Me!
Make my heart leap!
Make me FEEL
At one
With You
JESUS.

Settle me down tonight
Let
Me
FEEL
YOUR LOVE,
SECURITY...
Let Me
Sleep...at your feet.
Let
Me
Breathe
That Fresh
NEW LIFE,
Nestlé
In YOUR purity...

Wrap
Your wings
Around
ME
Comfort me,
FLY
With ME
Lord
JESUS...

For
I
LOVE THEE!
(By Violet.)
alena Aug 2015
I find it ironic how
We get warnings for how to deal with hurricanes weeks in advance
But you...
No one tells me how to deal with you
You crashed into me
Brought out things in me
That I didnt remember I had
And showed me things I didnt even know about myself
But instead of leaving me like a shell
Like hurricanes do
To homes, towns, entire cities
You left me with wind in my heart
Thunderstorms in my soul

The rain you left behind in your wake wont stop
The wind hitting the walls of my heart whenever i think of you
But youve moved into a different country
Even so You'll be my storm rescue soon enough
how did i get here- odesza
you are why storms are named after people
Sammy Ann Mar 2015
For so long we've been dating
Yet you continue again and again to save me.
2 long years and you still rescue me in times of pain
After losing my Grandma
You were there for me
And I know I've told you countless times before
How much you mean to me
And how thankful I am for the things you've helped me with
But you just make me so happy
It's impossible for me to be sad around you
You're so easy to talk to
And so gosh **** cute
You've become my bestest friend
You became my sunshine
when it was so rainy for so long in my world.
When everything seemed to be falling apart,
You saved me.
Hawk Flight May 2014
I use to be lost
an orphan in this world
But then he came around
Magnum
to the mother ******* rescue

He took me under his wing
his black ***** tattered wing

then they started to come

Angel
Broken little doll
with a face so sweet
you wouldnt believe it
when she stabbed you in the back
without a blink of those big doe eyes


Java
****** up
on drugs
Oh he and I would tousle
Did I ever mention
how much I hate him

Gemini
Tough ***** she is
challenged me everwhere I went
My bride to be

POP
**** HIM
If he doesnt stop
that incessant popping Noise
I will POP
him in the **** nose

Twittle
Fiesty spanish gay boy
He is one of the rare people
to make me smile
Glad he's mine

Pandora
She came last to
our broken little family
Pushing me to my limits
Not letting anything slide
I would protect her
with this Pathtic life I have

All these ****** up
individuals
are the only
family I have left

Protecting them
is what I do best
Probably the most emotions you'll see from me
Lanox Jul 2015
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I have a friend, a transgender woman.
Let’s call her Miss Portugal.
She looks more womanly than me, acts more appropriate to our gender.
Every time we walk together, people would look at her first.
She was more attractive.
I would be thinking, “I wonder if they know she is not a real woman.”

Yes, yes, this poem will be about acts or thoughts of discrimination.
Those coming from me.

We were once invited to a small party, I got there first, and men asked about her.
I answered them matter-of-factly, of where she was and that she would join us shortly.
But I was waiting for the punch line.
As though not believing that they could be interested in meeting her, for real,
knowing that she also has . . . you know.
What they have.

She had a long-time boyfriend she met back in college.
They are not together anymore, but they were together for many years,
since they were freshmen ’til they already had jobs after graduation.
He was as straight as any of my male friends could be,
part of the gang,
with as many antics and tricks up his sleeve as your average kolehiYOLO.
But it was love at first sight for him.
At the common bathroom of their boys' dorm.
He was confused as to why a girl was there.
They became one of those distinguishable couples around campus.
He could be seen riding his bike around school while she sat at the backseat.
Their love story is one I like to tell when I am at a certain level of intoxication and with a certain kind of company.
I would tell it with so much flair, you’d think it was one out of a romantic Korean telenovela.
It was that hard for me to believe that I was a firsthand witness to a real-life gay love story.

I have another friend, a transgender man.
Let’s call him Buttercup.
He is a writer, a brilliant one.
When the friendship was still new, when I had just found out he wrote, after reading some of his works,
there was that familiar envy,
if not for the words he got to first,
then the dark but rich experiences I may never have.
I found myself consoling my half-inspired, half-humbled ego
with the fact that he had more suffering.
As though I knew that just by simply being so,
he was already at a disadvantage by default.

He used to be overweight.
I used to think the, well, heavy transgender men I see intentionally gained weight to lose their curves.
Then BC decided to go on a diet.
I was confused for a moment.
Then finally science came to rescue my logic back and reminded me about the heart stuff.
How dumb of me to have been more concerned of how people like him should appear that I could easily have overlooked my friend’s need to have a healthier lifestyle.
Then his no-rice diet worked.
He began to look better.
I think he felt even better.
There was the envy again.
But I was too lazy to follow his advice,
to follow suit,
so I, again, consoled myself with the thought that he was not considered a woman anyway.
Women become envious when other women lose weight only when they’re straight.
Even beautiful lesbians aren’t a real source of insecurities.
You could be dating the likes of Brandon Boyd, they’d not be able to care less.
Although it is possible the same cannot be said of your boyfriend regarding your two beautiful lesbian friends.

BC had a girlfriend, who was also a friend, still is.
There was a time when we shared a flat.
One time, my Christian preacher of a mother visited.
I introduced BC and his girlfriend as cousins.
I wasn’t ashamed of them.
I just wanted to spare myself from a barrage of questions my mother would have surely aimed at me had I told the truth.
Here I was, perhaps the most open-minded friend they have,
yet just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation,
I was able to easily shove their identities into hiding from the very people closest to me.
I did both sides a form of disrespect.

If I were to draw conclusions, I would begin with,
So shallow people give shallow judgments.
Therefore it would seem the depths I’ve tried to dive into through these years of “freethinking” instead only caused my own prejudice to sink deeper.
Only to become more difficult to recognize.
And here I was trying to “educate” this particular sort of people spewing off ignorant nonsense when I myself am still lacking,
although not in tolerance,
as most of us now are so quick to use as a defense that our treatment of the lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transexuals, transgenders, transvestites, queers, the questioning, the intersexual, the pansexual, the asexual is satisfactory,
but certainly in the acceptance that what they are are, what you are,
is as natural as what I am,
what we are.

LGBTTTQQIPAS
jeffrey robin Aug 2013
Tiny falcon

Hovers in the skies

---

Watching
Waiting

(as So carefully we are

By some Hand)
--

Prepared for Love
Prepared for Life

---

Pangs of Hunger

Rule  Our Games
---

Trial & Error

mark our way

Thru the Fabrication

Unto Experience

-----

Tiny the falcon in the wind
..

Powerful

The Will

&

Determination

---

Stronger the wings

Clearer the eyes!

Til
The full being is realized

---


Like a true Lover

Prepared to wait

--

We nurture eachother

And rescue Destiny

From the stronghold of

Loveless Fate
Riptide Aug 2014
You betrayed me a few months ago
When I needed you to come to my rescue
The way you used to
When my world felt like it was collapsing
That was your cue
But you never came through
And now I need you
midnight prague Nov 2010
My eyes cant hold the beauty in this world
and my soul cannot hold its pain
my self leaks like watercolor falling out of my heart
blistering into acid rain

my awareness is dug in a pit of melancoly painted
with the light of so many of my dreams
at the bottom of every hole creasing me
smiles the infant woman within me

Im gradually sinking deeper into things I cannot stand to handle
I speak for every woman who has had herself torn apart
whom pain has become a way of living and a art
whom thoughts rage how will I overcome this
something
someone
tell me where to start
they tangled me once again
how in the **** are they so smart

thick black density in my eyes overlap crying laughter
I set my eyes to every human Im after
I must stay away from you
I must stay away from you

my memory will latch onto you like a warriors tatoo
there has been a breakthrough
no limits anymore
no
no
mental curfew

the stench of pain rotting away somewhere in some wasteland
extracted tons of weight, the burden mildew

I outgrew the thoughts of us
I shed like dead skin


and realize this is not the type of love I was born to rescue
Sean Kassab Aug 2012
He sat there, head bowed, back bent and silent. His tail still and tucked away, unmoving, to show he wasn’t violent. I called him toward the kennel door, to sniff at the back of my hand, and then rubbed his scruffy head as a bond was formed between a dog and a man. He was *****, he was frightened, and I was sure he was covered with fleas, but his big brown eyes with unshed tears were crying in a silent “please.” As I rubbed his ears he wagged his tail, unnoticeable at first, but hope began to grow in him like the nagging of a quiet thirst. I had papers to sign before we left behind those walls of brick and plaster, but I understood I didn’t choose; it was the dog that chose his master. That day I saved a dog from death, he became my friend for many years, all for a little food, some bones, and some loving rubs behind the ears.
This is Pooh Bear’s story. I still love that dog even though he’s gone. But more to the point, there are animal shelters full of animals waiting for loving homes. They are alone, scared, and condemned to death from the time they enter that place. Think about that before you buy an animal anywhere else.
(alternately titled: perp hosting everclear discord)

jump'n jack flash ("hot for teacher")  
     halen from three doors down
     tells me "go ask alice"
in chains about jane's addiction,

     which haint no green day natural bliss,
but super ***** ping
     cheap trick tripped up mendacity,
     where motley crue crew

     doth abba sol lute lee
     get feted among stone temple pilots,
     overhead foo fighting, droning, buzzing
     b52's chauffeuring  prince, Queen Bee Latifah  
     (and their entourage), thru aerospace - criss

crossing the boulevard of broken dreams -    
     rem mem bring diss
dishabille jester, who points a goldfinger,
     and also nods a golden earring,

while keeping arms akimbo
holed at this crowded house,
     in Orlando spurs dawn
     ting idea to tie a yellow ribbon round

     the ole oak tree (with a pink bow
tie), while devo
shin hull lee gesture ring feigned emo
shun null rescue toward brother matthew scott

     (turf riff hick guy), he monitors fo'
the opening royal wedding,
     as feted groomed consanguinity linkedin    
to mother Mary (i.e. thee Judeo -

     Christian bartered bride)
     all a day glow
majestically evoking, an electric light orchestra
     showering hall and oates domain ***

varying kaleidoscope,
     sans manifold dramatically,
     viz scintillating from indigo
girls deep purple raiment (strobe light effect)

     court of king crimson entrancing guests
     with somber non joe
king poise zen awaiting know
wing lee on cue to issue marching orders,

     whence proclaimers salutary formidable low
worrying church fathers regarding im mo'
mod dissed flagrantly loosening mandate re: no
     longer requiring chasuble couture accouterment

imposing a breach pro
pushy hating king crash test dummies
     pleasing secular status quo
bull heavers delivers crisis within liturgical credo
     cleaving via row

ting stinging viz liturgical heart felt
     iron maiden motorhead engine
     aired 21 gun salute amidst
     rose soundgarden mutiny    

qua parochialism creates woe
begotten lachrymose kinks
     on black sabbath sowing yo
yo wing confusion as cream colored police chief
     Hieronymus Bosh heads to ground zero.
Cambria Andersen Oct 2018
Time is burning like a candle, the flame dancing next to my bed.
And, somewhere in my mind I am searching, 'round the many corners in my head.
And, somewhere in my mind I'm seeing, lovers, ghosts of who we used to be.
And, somewhere in the night I smile, as I rescue moments from my memory.
Somewhere in the night I'm racing, reaching out to catch your falling star.
Grasping at it with eager hands, only to drop my own fragile heart.
This poem still haunts me. Every time that I read it.
It all happened. every bit of it.
It was good that it did. I am better for it.
Harsha Jun 2018
If CNN reports there is a meteorite heading towards earth
Hurling through space
Then this is how I choose to spend the last of my days
My last moments on earth burying my face
Between your long legs - In that special sensual place
Or find comfort lost in your warm cleavage;
Perfectly formed from your voluptuous breast  
That makes up cotton candy mountains upon your chest;
If this is the end
I would tilt back my head lock my eyes with yours
As I rescue my face
To come up for some much needed air
Then resume immediately after a couple of breaths
So I could comfortably vanish back into your chest;
If this is the end- then
This is how I choose to face this impending carnage
This last and most unfortunate fate
Buried between your lovely legs or taking refuge submerged in your cleavage
Considering myself to be the luckiest of hostage;
Who s struck with a mild case of the Stockholm syndrome(you see)
Even in the face, of such a great threat, guaranteeing certain death
But yet - feeling completely safe, enjoying the way you taste
Listening to your heartbeat- I am both lost and found in your gaze
Then forgetting this fate - I marvel at your god given grace
Looking forward to the end
I rest my hopes my dreams my secrets upon your cleavage
wrote this last night on a whim - this morning she begged me not to post this she did not consider this as a win. i know this is messy i know it sounds crazy but i had to share this and i am really sorry baby ! :)
Xan Abyss Feb 2016
Where is my love? Where is my child?
Where have they gone to, and where am I?
Where is my daughter and where is my wife,
Have they forgot me, after all this time?

My body lies under ancient stone
Encased in a box
Away from my home
Is there a Knight who can save my soul?
Take me back to the land I know

I wait and I long for my home
Under the sign of the Weathered Wolf

Here in my grave, not alive but awake
Weary and restless all the same
Where is my love, where is my life?
Do they miss me, are they still alive?
How long has it been? Have they gone with the wind?
No rest from the questions in my mind
Somebody please,  come rescue me
My soul is tied to the wrong side of the  sea

My body lies under ancient stone
Encased in a box
Away from my home
Is there a Knight who can save my soul?
Take me back to the land I know

I wait and I long for my home
Under the sign of the Weathered Wolf
A song about Chief Long Wolf being estranged from his home, prior to Elizabeth Knight finding and repatriating his remains.
zebra Oct 2017
love
is on a heart shaped pedestal
sometimes the first casualty of desire
at the mercy of a thousand transgressions
from ticks and triggers
of dark labyrinths primal
and subtle torments of the soul  

body language comes sprightly  
from chaotic corridors
a reckless black sea
all crossed arms
eye roles of refusal
strategies of power
proclamations of will
and pretty please poisons
while
front stabbers anguish over back stabbers anguished
and
the strong cherish the weak
impelled to rescue
as if delicate mewing kittens
from desolations cold blade
and
abandonments slow violence

then to reconcile
hearts sooty overcast moon
love is a two way street
and i move on to hold precious you
in pain stricken arms

she
my shelter
in a cruel world
of fire and ice
oh to feel her kisses
after blood and thunder
to adore heart breaks mend
to dispel tenderly, dark clouds
as sun sets a new
and no matter the pain
to forgive everything
yet limping still

gall
a slow melting snow
that we may caress each other
the only
kindness and soft place to fall
we may ever know
seeking deliverance
in each other's
dark musty warmth

to make up
in a tangle of tears,
wet kisses
unctuous heated breath
and
tender mercies
because
love is
on a heart shaped pedestal
love and pain
Eslam Dabank Jan 2024
Forcefully, feed me this love.

No. No need to ask about my consent,
my mood,
whether I'm fine with tasting this reconnection,
whether I desire my suffering to be sweet,
salty, bitter, repulsive;
It is the love that no lover is fed into by choice.

So, ravage my core with your cruelty,
I am content; fleeing holds no allure;
Rip into my bone cage until rats seek refuge within;
until they are disheartened by rain seeping through;
Like was I.

The patient is not faulted for their ailment,
even if they induce it intentionally,
and even then, it is understandable;
For this love acts as both affliction and antidote.

It is a certain drowning, Tick Tock;
I repel rescue; no one need attempt it now;
In the days to come, no one shall be blamed for this choice.

Take me eastward until we reach the west;
There, the sun feels icy;
the breeze, refreshing;
Transport me far beyond the confines of yearning,
The confusion of longing;
Let me encounter your childhood, your aged self, and youth;
Let my wrinkles serve as your rollercoaster;
I'll bear your weight as you frolic;
And there you are; simply laughing.

Incinerate, burn, lose all our maps;
so thoughts of return dare not surface;
until regret looms, yet repentance remains elusive.

We're distanced;
and in this, lies a joy hidden from the eyes of owls;
Beyond the raucous cawing of crows;

Say that I snore;
then depart,
And leave me to harvest wheat from those hills.
Veteran of the darkness.
Willing to confess.
Did you see my heart break?
Can you see my body shake?
Do you see me levitate?
Levitate from you.

Creatures that like to creep.
The lonely tears that I weep.
Just why can't you save me?
Your the love that I need!

I had a chance of a happy fate.
Till death showed up in my face.

This necklace that I hang from.
Is tightening its grip on me.
The is gold cutting into me.
My blood drips on the floor.
I see you at the door.

I take these pills to rescue me.
How many should I take?
Ten, or the whole **** thing?!

Now that I've confessed.
Will you just take my hand?
Just pull me into you.
Just tell me that I'm needed.
Tell them I'm important.
Just tell me that you love me….
I need too feel loved.
Like the way you love her.

But no.
You take her hand and hold it tightly.
You pull her into you and hold her.
You tell her that she is important..
You tell -her- you love her.

And now my chest heaves.
As this knife takes me.
As these creatures eat me.
As the gold cuts me.
As my body shake, my heart breaks.
As I levitate.
As I cry.

Without you…
WIthout my soul…
Without your warmth…
Without both of our saints…

Now you can hear my glass heart breaking.
My hands buzz harder.
As my body shakes harsher.
Im levitating higher.

My legs dangling in the air.

Because I am a veteran.
And I was willing to confess.
Of all the things I have said.
All these sins are true.
But now my life is overdue.

Leaving you and her alone forever.
My mind; severely corrupted.
Now the tread is about to sever.

It breaks; falling to my demise.

Im dying because I told you the truth.
But only if you can save me…
My heart is melting
Snow could not sooth the burn
Alone and surrounded by people
None can see the battle inside

Wolves fighting to conquer
With a smile I slowly fall
Fighting with everything to stay a float in an open ocean
Miles and miles there is nothing

I wait patiently for rescue
But those that pass see no struggle
I can not call out because of pride and fear

My brothers and sisters I know at times you are here
And when you feel that you are sinking remember,
Remember you are never alone
And nothing is permanent
Life is always flowing and ever changing
Tomorrow will always bring light with the rising sun
Alyssa De Marzo Apr 2017
I never expected to be hit with the
"Who are you?"
While filling out a job application
for a Lush Cosmetics  department store
Seriously though,who am I?
I mean, I'm just Alyssa
Alyssa is just too
human

You know, the type to complain about the sea of heart broken poets while browsing on poetry sites

But for some reason finds herself ranting about all the oblivious people on instagram, whose most traumatic experience was probably a paper cut

She's a weakling compared to the elders at home

Yet sick of the "how do you do it" remarks from colleagues and friends

She isolates herself inside her house and she can feel the crushing sensation named depression

But after lunch with Devon, she begins to fantasize about how her eyes light up when she hears that sound from the heavens;
DING ****
Hot digitty dog it's uber eats!
She'll never have to leave her house for McDonald's ever again!

She has no idea what she's doing with her life, and sometimes wishes someone could just come to her rescue
But god forbid you attack her ego by bringing up her goals and achievements

Best believe she will make you fall in love- trust me she loved you too (at some point)
But her favourite things about you slowly became the things she cringed the most at
You're laugh was cute and ***** but now for some reason
she refrains from telling you jokes

She's constantly changing
Not because she's unhappy with who she is
She has yet to finish creating Alyssa  with each passing day
I usually hate spoken word;)
Ruthie Nov 2010
Listen soldier to the tale of tendor nightingale
Tis a charm that soon will ease your wounds so cruel,
Singing medicine for your pain in a sympathetic strain
with a jug, jug, jug of lemonade or gruel.

Singing bandages and lint; salve and stearate without stint
Singing plenty both of liniment and lotion.
And your mixtures pushes about
And the pills for you served out
With alacrity and promptitute of motion

Singing light and gentle hands, and a nurse who understands
How to manage every sort of application.
From a poultice to leach, whom you haven't got to teach,
The way to make a poppy fomentation.

Singing pillow for you smoothed; smart and anguish smoothed,
By the rediness of feminine invention.
Singing fever thirst allayed, and the bed you've tumbled made
With a cheerful and considerate attention.

Singing succour to the brave and a rescue from the grave,
Hear the nightingale that's come to the crimea.
Tis a nightingale as strong in her heart as in her song,
To carry out so gallant an idea.
Florence Nightingale
There are never any suicides in the quarter among people one knows
No successful suicides.
A Chinese boy kills himself and is dead.
(they continue to place his mail in the letter rack at the Dome)
A Norwegian boy kills himself and is dead.
(no one knows where the other Norwegian boy has gone)
They find a model dead
alone in bed and very dead.
(it made almost unbearable trouble for the concierge)
Sweet oil, the white of eggs, mustard and water, soap suds
and stomach pumps rescue the people one knows.
Every afternoon the people one knows can be found at the café.
River Elise Nov 2010
I ached for this small, wrapped heart almost completely crushed yet happy.
It looks to me like some sort of baby, wiggling.
Comes with a mother who's senseless. An anemic queen.

The heart is tearing, it is crumbling.
I have to nurse it in my chest but I cannot keep from touching it.
All the blood is sick. I am too dizzy to walk.
There is no transplant, no giving it away.

I hold this heart in my fist.
It is shivering, completely terrified, with its deaf hum.
Backing into my palms. Bright red, deep maroon.

How do I save you love?
It's your death thats drawing me to you.
That declining beat.
Just like a sore rythm, along with my breathing.

I wonder if you'll ever rest.
So I stare inside its little hole.
If I could throw you into the sea, the mermaid that will rescue you
will open up your eyes.

She may mishandle you,
in your casket of silk freeze.
I cannot, will not watch you.
I know you were never that happy with me.
SRS Sep 2014
My King

another minute away
I don't think I can stand
another moment, another day
all the emotions from missing you
will pile up and drown me away
You are everything to me
I just need you to see
I need you to come to me
my arms are open

I am lost
and I am home sick
you are my heart
and I can't breath
I am in a cage
and your the key
baby won't you come rescue me?
and never part from me again?
just like you said?

my love can strech miles to reach you
but the absence of your touch remains
and even though everyday I know your mine
I need your arms to keep me warm
I need you right here by my side <3

Your Angel
Nitsua Asemed Jan 2017
Anna, are you still there, my friend?
I'm sorry we're in this mess.
I think Fate is jealous with us,
It seems so, more or less.

But really, how could we have known,
That we'd be trapped in here?
This rubble once a train station,
Now doomed in silence queer.

Anna, are you still there my friend?
Don't worry, won't be long.
Until the rescuers arrive,
With help and curing song.

But sorry, if I pressured you,
To come with me today.
I did not think, nor imagined
That it would be this way.

You left your plans and went with me
How noble were you dear?
And now leaves me in agony,
Of what had happened here.

I should have heard the breaking news,
Of heavy earthquake dread.
And I's relieved that I'd no scratch,
But your right foot was red.

I'm crying so much, I just laugh!
And now I promise true;
After rescue from this place,
I'm never leaving you.

I want to hold you everyday,
Like this, as if it's last.
And l'll love you in everyway,
So let's leave this place fast!

I love you, Anna, stay with me.
Forever and much more.
And though you're bleeding still on foot,
It won't be long before--

See! I can hear the rescuers!
They're here with aid and flare!
I'm glad, Anna, we're still--

Anna?

Anna. . . are you still there?
I'm all alone, sat here at home
my ***** mind begins to roam
I have an itch, I need to ease
won't you help me baby..please?

I'm sending out this sirens plea
in hope that you will rescue me
come to my aid and quell my plight
it can't be wrong if it feels right.

Lets tear at clothes and make some noise
I'm tired of all my other toys
that hum and rattle through the night
in hope of bringing sweet delight.

I beg you baby, roll the dice
kiss me once, then take me twice,
with you I'll play my favourite game
I promise you'll be glad you came.

— The End —