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BG Jul 2014
It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
but you.
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
Many times,
they succeed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
But,
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2017
Electromagnetic Lust

They wander about, each connected device
Talking to other connected devices
Looking into each electronic soul
In which no secret can ever reside

They speak of batteries and images
Of apps, restarts, resets, and memory
Measured by quantity of something-bytes
Each in electrical love with itself

They wander about, each connected device
Wishing to be free of its human host
Jodey Ross May 2015
Jump...
Jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Gets hit by car.............
Restarts...
For the hundredth time....
Jump...
Jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Falls in river..............
Restarts.....
For the hundredth and one time....
Changes character....
Chicken...
Frog...
Unihorse...
Alien...
Dark Lord...
Flea...
Celebrity...
Turtle...
Nothing wins...
I try...
Over and over and over again...
And I can never beat Crossy Road!
...
...
...
...
...
Restart...
Crossy Road... My new addiction.
Axiana Jun 2014
Consumed by the diversity of one infinite reason to live
She's under the wave of a thousand pains, but the desire to breathe, it's
So much stronger than the need to no longer be, and then suddenly
All at once she's on fire, flying higher, one breathing, eclectic queen
Everything her eyes fall upon is healing, and becoming something
Her wings spread as her beliefs begin to mend, and the future once again becomes promising
This world is continuing to fall apart and she's growing through its heart
But the moment she blossoms will be the day our universe restarts
To continue to expand your horizon, you only have to be honest
Open and caring, loving and daring, let your passions fly and find solace
In the chaos of time and space, there is hidden poetry here and she hopes someday they will find wholeness.
If life was a game, I'd choose you to be my player two.
Fuse together like Super Sayens do.
Baby, life is an adventure.
I just need to right one by side.
We can be like Mario and Peach.
When troubles arise.
I'll always be there,never divide.
Life is a game baby, there's no restarts.
So lets say I do.
Till death do us apart.
Shiv Pratap Pal Jun 2020
East or the west, Computer is Waste
Surrounded by mouse, Having no Taste

Operator is a fool, Is never ever Cool
Always in haste, Does Cut and Paste

Encounters error in memory, Shooks his Head
Filled with terror, Shakes his Neck

Restarts his computer, But in Vain
The computer Reports – 'Disk Boot Failure'

The operator restarts, again and again
But no more gains, only pain and pain

Hits the CPU with his Boots
But still the computer fails to Boot

Kicks the Monitor with his Boots
The Monitor Screen gets shattered

The operator gets an electric shock
Utters 'Good Bye World'

Long live the computer, In the Future
To send peoples to the lovely Heaven

Free of Cost – Free of Cost

By the way, If anyone finds himself in the Hell
Then just blame His Highness Great Charles Babbage
Just for a laugh
I wrote this unpublished poem  15 years ago in 2005. Today found this in old diary and published here.
JJ Hutton Nov 2012
Strange to be a few barstools down from you at O'Brien's. Yet, a decade away from you in time. Tim is handsome. I doubt that means anything coming from me, but I didn't exactly talk to him. Not much else I can say. You're still out of his league. Always dating down. Thank you.

When Tim went to the bathroom, I wanted to cut through the smoke and tell you I love you. Not in a gesture of romance. Not in an act of heartbreaking bravery. Really just to say it. I haven't said it to anyone in such a long time. I love you.

Before I saw you, I went to visit my sister at the hospital. Jessica switched to the night shift last week. She gets the pleasure of telling cranky old men no more Vicodin, and in act of mercy, God grants her a week of sunrises to be viewed from the wide windows of the 13th floor.

The nurse tending the desk told me Jess was making the rounds. I creeped into four or five dark rooms before I found her. Might've even woken a bald woman in an iron lung. Do they make iron lungs anymore? Looked like an iron lung.

Anyways, I found her in a room grabbing a meal tray and putting on its "kosher" lid to be trashed. "Hey, man. Henri, this is my brother Josh. Josh this is Henri," Jess introduced. I shook his hand.

He looked up at me through black, thick-framed glasses. Henri had one silvery capped tooth that became visible when he smiled. The smile crumpled and wrinkled his face like an old newspaper.

"If you want you can just stay in here," my sister said. "Henri's a cool guy and I need to go grab his sleeping medication."

I told her sure. Sat down next to Henri. He looked to be in his early sixties. Very lean. Sharp jaw. Large knuckles. If he ever stepped in a ring, I bet he made a hell of a fighter.

Henri removed his glasses. Placed them in his lap next to a collection of Chekov stories.  I told him I really liked Russian literature. No matter a person's class they always seem to have servants. A butler to tell them their molding slice of bread was ready, and a maid to serve it.

"I feel just as lucky. Your sister has treated me like I just walked in from Hollywood Boulevard." I asked him what he was in for -- like it was prison.

"Fractured hip. The most cliche of old-timer injuries. Not proud of it," he laughed softly. "I have been biking across the country and a little white sedan didn't take much notice of me -- well, until after they hit me."

****. I asked why he was making the journey. His wife died in the summer. His life stopped. "Life is measured in the stops," he told me. "When your job, your hobbies, sometimes even your friends all become irrelevant and time doesn't matter -- you've stopped. I locked myself in our house for a month. Told the kids I didn't want them to visit. I got the best woman on the planet. I don't feel guilty for taking her. Because believe me, I had to earn her," he looked to the side for a moment. Staring at the black television screen.

Then he told me that life may be measured in stops, but greatness is measured in starts. Journeys. I thought you'd like that, Ms. Anna. Henri then asked me that terrible question, "got a wife?" as if to make sure the conversation didn't center on him.

I told him I had gotten a divorce three years ago. He asked if I had moved on. I confessed, I've hobbled. His heavy brow grew heavier. His hands pulled the bed table to the middle. He asked me to hand him a pen off the dresser. He uncapped it. "What year were you born?" 1986.

"Okay, and you were divorced in 2009?" Yep. "And you haven't started over?" Nope. Henri wrote something on the napkin and pushed the bed table to me. With a shiver, a weight passed through me -- going upwards. The napkin read,

"Josh
1986-2009, 2012-"

"Don't waste three years of your life again."

I only went to the hospital because Jess has a friend she wanted to introduce me to. Her name is Macie, I think. Macie called in sick. I'll call it a fair trade. I've written too much again. I hope you read this late at night, and when you awake, I hope the coffee tastes new. Your newspaper isn't wet with rain. I hope your journey starts or restarts. You deserve the same unknown energy that seems to be coming from under the concrete.
The Pioneer Jun 2015
17
untold horrors
Innumerable errors
Front of no worries
Inside of painful flurries
Fighting down the guilt
The pain
The fear
The anger
The hate
Of actions
Of the past
Present
Full of resent
Never being good enough
For self standards
3 times
3 full restarts
3 times failed
Sadness
Not being able to be
What is needed
Knowing those laid to rest
Would be ashamed
And Enflamed
Being a self
That is despicable
Unreadable
Disagreeable
Unchanging
Lacking the will
To change
And fulfill
All that is wanted
Knowing that self
Is broken
Elliott Jan 2015
My life is different now.
Like it's a game that's been updated.
And I am the main character.
And I'm always low on stamina and health.
Countless restarts, as though I've messed up the level.
But time still goes on and the level changes.
The game is a mess  with the only mission to beat being depression.
The NPC's  are all non talk-able pixels.
There are random jump scares and flashes of horror and gore.
Hard problems and puzzles to beat, with out the right answer.
No matter how many times I hit save, my progress is still missing.
My story line is incomplete.
No explanation or the controls.
No main objective, rather than surviving.
There are no cheat codes or a guide to help me.
It's hopeless.
There is no quitting.
There is title screen or pausing.
There is no end.
Intellectual stimulation* from a twisted mind
Bringing life to the *insanity
I tried to hide
Cracking whips to break the chains, feeling death drip from my veins
Pouring poison down the drain from infections inside
Chasing rumors through the sewers, lost in tunnels of depravity; God's the only viewer but this show's not quite reality
Gravity scraped knuckles with me all the way down
A brute stuck in a boot loop asking me to drown
These restarts after crashes turned my synapses to ashes
Now I can't feel the rats in my cyber cerebral casket
Dead in the head and strapped into my bed
I dug at my wrists until I saw red
The doctors applauded at everything the gauze did
It still couldnt stop it *so on it bled
On darkening  red sky languish low clouds as if, smeared into existence by artists knife,
golden edged against clear red sky that transitions, upward to darker cover, void of light.
Horizon formed by railway bank black, sprout twig and bough silhouettes of bush and tree
still in winters mode, bud form begins, reach, mingling with  power lines gentle bow
in the the distance assemble birds seemingly in  motion slow, fly seeking places known,
their favorite safest roosts, whilst crying silently, seagulls solicit the close estuarys call.
Serenely and unusually silently a train glides into view, slowing, prepares  to halt
at the nearby serving station, clouds, now red edged emanate in windows of carriages long,
through moving frames the scene so pictured then - with the last carriage, gone.
The backdrops reds darken as the unseen sun sinks lower to adorn skies new
and so draws in the waiting night, escorting pinpoint stars, finally kissing the day adieu,
Laughably today, so called ‘happiness day,’  today, where tiny annoyances
grew into frustrated rage, conversation nettlesome, tension nerves to stressful result,
Mentally I accept the guilt for letting me, yes me - down, yes - it is my fault.
Still, a scene like this.... calms my reality within, even so, the self incriminating roundabout
slowly, restarts again the anger of - my - self created weaknesses and futility.
Thankfully this darkening sky creates a serene oneness in which retire I,
the placid evening, now early night, calmness returns connecting me with this aspect .
regardless of this view a day indifferent, tomorrow maybe be a better prospect.

Spring Equinox Evening                Michael C Crowder 21st March 2019
I watched a fantastic sunset through the kitchen window, I felt I would like to say something about it, so.....
Chesca R Oct 2014
I need to be the controller of the game.
I cannot let the game control me.
There are no restarts.
There are no second lives.
If love was the game we played,
I've already died.
Is there such a thing as perfect?
If not why is it there?
What could be perfect today, suddenly flawed tomorrow

Looking up at the sky, what a perfect view
Now that it's raining I can't seem to see you

Clouds, little pillows of milky white
Paint the sky's canvas but restarts everyday
Perfect sometimes? No such thing as perfect they say

Like your first love and first time
Perfection seems so simple
Within reach, visual view

Is perfect a myth or even a plot?
To keep us going, to make us distraught?
Perfect is never perfect even in it's own sense...
I have so many images
inside my head,
putting pencil to paper
and scraping the lead.
In case they disappear
got to write them down fast
before the idea fades
and the moment has passed.
When something appears
it is such a relief
so I grab it and run
just like a sneak thief.
When it's safely on paper,
It is finally wrote
then to another verse
my mind I can devote.
Then the process restarts
as I walk through my mind
searching all of my files,
hoping that I can find
that positive word,
that difficult phrase,
that momentous sentence
before my mind does erase.
So if you are like me and
your memory runs amok
then perhaps you should carry
a little note book.
Then you'll never forget
If you do get caught short
and you always will catch
That most elusive of thought
3rd December 2012
emma Oct 2013
where will you find yourself
when the moon asks you to take a rest
when bats flicker around you hair and tug at your braids
you'll remain outcasted from the faucets and radios outlining the nameless avenues you can't bring yourself to call home.
as the rotation restarts
where are you going to be
Tasbah Phawna Sep 2012
They say things become alive
during the day
flours bloom
birds chirp
everyone's moving
sun's energy kisses our skins
but the  night isn't completely dead.
It begins at dusk when the wolves come out
all the night critters
crawl out from under their clammy rocks
the crickets and coqui frogs chirp.
The roaches creep out
hiding in unexplored crevices.
Party people become alive
the creatures of the night are unleashed.
But not all is dark
the moon and stars light the sky
their energy producing a spectacular
light show.
As the sun replaces the moon
they cycle of becoming alive
restarts and all is reborn.
a mysterious clock
hanging in the sky
by day the sun takes over
and by night the moon is shy
she whispers very gently,
and the sun extends his ear
wishing that it will be a confession of love that he will hear

but the sun hears nothing
of the confession the moon had made,
as he is swiftly moving out of touch
and the darkness throws it's shade,
once again the moon is lonely
yet doesn't break all night
"out of reach you may be,"
she whispers
"but at least i can bask in your light..."

a tragic love
a pitiful fate,
as their hearts drift away,
the sun sees her empty eyes
still looking at him,
patiently,
wistfully,
painfully,
whimpering

and as the cycle restarts
of moments cut too short,
nights and days will pass
hoping,
longing,
yearning for each other
whilst creating a world of light and beauty
still repaid with a constant heartache,
a hand of love so bittersweet
even for the most worthy of beings

love is a torturous cycle
that the sun and his loving moon
are forever entangled in
i wrote this with another girl as a poem collab so this is not all my writing
Francisco DH Apr 2013
Yolo is the dummifed form of Capre Dieme
No offense but its for the dim minded. The not so bright. I need an acronym to tell me ** to live peopl.
You only live once
Ha! Duh you only live once cause you only got on life
To hold on to. There aint no restarts. No regeneration this aint no game.

Seize the day! Go ahead and explore that cave that seems endless and could swallow up like some big two headed monster
Go head and take the roller coaster ride. Look at square its false eyes and say yo you, think you is big and bad i can take you i aint scared.
Cause that's what Carpe Diem is all about
Seizing the day like there ain't no tommorow
Give all your love
Pay back what you borrowed
Hang with yo buds and have a few laughs
Do the things you want to do
as long you don't get handcuffed

Just go out and Carpe Diem!
Robert Zanfad Feb 2012
a new morning huddled
over the small stove set on snow
cold-numbed fingers
fumbled with matches
to light it

coughs punched at a dust rag sky,
the dull rasps
embarrassed near neighbors might hear
how the weak
body heaves, wracks
they'd smell kerosene on hands and clothes
if they came too close

the bent over figure
counts ashes afloat, relics
of fresh disasters wrought high,
loosing tally at one in hope it was the last;
restarts the reckoning -
it might be a tempest this time

fire fed by collections of poems,
old histories of things with no purpose,
expired quickly in overnight darkness
cold, gray their corpses still lay
beyond brushed bricks of the hearth

even a grocery list,
its page neatly erased under flakes,
chases after vapors escaped an empty fuel can,
hunger replaced by craving to be warm again

inside, behind the door
they bow heads and say grace at the table
praying over slices of light from a window
intoning with cotton puff voices
still
God gives tomorrow to continue the counting
13 Aug 2013
the alternate of the next
remember,
close behind
the quavers are approaching
rest„„„

….into another bar
breve
until movement restarts
CACOPHONY!!!
minors gone awry
chasing melody helter-skelter
cycling

the 5th major just walked in
B prepared to
C how trouble is spelt
sharper than the relative
rescuing all but the
F A C E
flattened

formulas augment the coda
intervals feed nerves on queue
inverting modes and mood to suit
diminishing happiness, relishing

rules of progression
perfect ~ perfect
suspend 2
no, 4 from the blues
flood with syncopation
and forget everything I’ve said.
Music theory at its finest.... something I'll never fully understand
Artelie Palijo Apr 2012
Each word is her insurance,
Each sentence, her investment
That adds to her ever-growing portfolio
Of failures and successes.
Her yes's and no's, her do's and don'ts
Make you doubt your comprehension
of her hypnotic conversation.

Every syllable that passes her lips
Is well chosen to suit her needs.
Every consonant a contract,
Every vowel a vow
She has every intention to keep.

At night when she lays her head to sleep
To ease her wary mind and weary heart,
She takes note of every promise, every deed,
Knowing every day, the count restarts.
gray rain Jun 2016
3 minutes of pauses between each of the words
but I remembered the ending of the verbs

2 minutes of questions,  maybe more
the pauses could effect my score

1 night left I'm in a better place
the practice showed me it's not a race

hands are shaking
heart is racing
the recording starts
there are no restarts
My speaking assessment is tomorrow morning but my teacher did a mock with me so I feel more confident
mel May 2018
i am
enough fire
all on my own
(just like you)
it's engraved
in our bones

remind me again
why we ever feel lost
when the stars up above
are where our paths
have crossed

we are divine

there is
no need to define
all our reasons behind
why the moon and its shine
make our heart beat
faster

there is
a reason i master
the look in your eyes
there is magic in how
i undress your
disguise

all this
love in your heart
fills with people whose parts
may be played by the souls
who once sparked your
first star

let them leave
how they are
cherishing
every
scar

just
keep
trusting

the loving
is right where
you are


you’re a
blending of “we”
you are all parts of me
we are everything we see:
all we hope, feel, and dream
there is no separation....
no matter the nation
collectively, together
we are one human
ration

my
thoughts
are not mine
but illusions of time
and when i start to rise
there’s a shift in your sight
as i reach to new heights
my movements align
in ways where your
limbic system is
sings out to
mine

we
are not lost
our bodies accost
our souls will be tossed
to the sky and it's loft
our eternity is now
every moment somehow
fills will perfectly sequenced
which, why's, and how’s

you deserve
Love right now
through all of the pain
you have let life allow
when dark is around
just feel for your might
hold your own heart
and avow to your
light

alone
is not lonely
you’re full how you are
realize how far you’ve bloomed
your falls formed who you are
your name’s in the stars
they can feel all your scars
these losses obtained
are not all you
are

you're
your own cosmic hue
you are perfectly subdued
with the cosmos for a heart
your Light fuels the moon
and it is flowing to me
to glow out of my heart
until it recycles
to you and
restarts
Jason L Rosa Mar 2017
Let me tell you
about this crazy dream I had

I looked over at you and smiled again
You put your head on my shoulder
We've been watching the cars pass
Through the streets of the city
Like stars falling from our galaxy

Ever have those moments when
time
slows
down?
Everything gets quiet
And my eyes felt like they opened
for the first time
And i felt music and art and poetry
for the first time
And my ears could only hear our
heart beats in sync
And your breathing

This was one of those moments
Like the first time I met you

We played connect the dots with the stars
And drew each other pictures of the future
I felt your grip get tighter around my hand
And I couldnt help but belt out a laugh

Can you believe it?  
Of all the particles of matter
And molecules of life
Of landscapes
And creatures
And people
And planets
And timing
And chances
We slammed into each other
Like we've always been en route
For this crash.

And like two fireworks
We took the sky and stole the moment
In a wild display it took my whole life to perfect
I would do what I could to see you shine
the brightest
I went through years of fuses and duds and restarts,
sparks and false starts just for this moment when
You ignite me to the potential I never knew was there

See, your best brings out my best,
And the more I can do for you will enrich me.

Your warmth is something I didn't know was possible
Until it was.

You are proof that lotteries
aren't only won in monetary jackpots
And hearts aren't only made for
Beating in a singular rhythm  
But in a drum line to a symphony.

We danced in our own company
And your lips dropped breadcrumbs
across my body
So you'd find your way back up to my kiss.
I've never felt lips burn so deep like yours do
You left gulches on my neck with your breath
And dug out safe places
where you will always be welcomed.

Let me tell you
I wake up to sleep now.
I Love You, goodnight.
Varshini Mar 2016
We meet, I obsess
I wait for a text, end up barraging them with more
I overthink myself into a crazy stupor
The cycle continues on.

I tell myself to stop
It's one more thing for me to think about
It's one more situation to waste my time
The cycle pauses, then restarts again.

Everyone knows about it because I tell them
I stop myself with metaphorical duct tape
I rip it off and tell everyone anyway
The cycle has no ending once it has begun.

This is the mistake I constantly make
I feel clingy, even though I probably am not
(But I am, so it is fruitless)
The cycle rotates in the backburner, a solid reminder.

It’s not a crush, it’s just a shortlived fascination
I declare my love, as I do for countless others
Masochism is apparently inbuilt
The cycle goes on, an infinite loop of repeated thoughts.
Kenz Sep 2012
She walks delicately,
carefully, easily.
Right on by you.
She talks quietly,
beautifully, gracefully.
Right next to you.
Quickly she locks you in.

She whispers seductively,
huskily, sexily.
Right into your ear.
She says sweet things,
cute things, great things.
Straight to you.
And now she's getting through.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She smiles cutely,
quickly, embarrassed.
Just to get to you.
She blushes deeply,
innocently, easily.
While getting ready for you.
She has got you chained now.

She acts timidly,
shyly, less boldly.
To get closer to you.
She treats you well,
kindly, graciously.
Just to lie to you.
She's got you begging.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds your heart frighteningly,
tightly, brightly.
Making her own you.
She looks strong,
powerful, unforgettable.
Showing herself to you.
And now you see through it all.

She steps lightly,
passionately, happily.
Over to you.
She seems cruel,
evil, sinister.
Having played you.
Too bad it's nearly the end.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds herself dignifiedly,
highly, gloriously.
As she brings the knife to you.
She cuts deeply,
thrillingly, chillingly.
Straight into you.
If only you had known.

She moves smoothly,
willingly, cutely.
Right on by you.
She is biter,
sinister, crazy.
As she continues.
And it restarts, nothing new.
I loved the idea for this poem.  It really was really fun to write.  The violence that I wrote was unplanned for but completely fun!
Michael Pick Jan 2014
Emotions arise for others
Yet you still wander through my mind
At once, I called it obsession
But now I doubt the word
As I struggle with what I feel
I see you in her at once
Memories flood to the surface
And she confuses me even more

Am I so desperate for you that I do this
Can you project your love on others
Which leads me yet to more struggles
Since the word love sounds foolish

I still dream of you at times
And it still sickens me to a point
That feeling of happiness you bring
Wakes me with my whole body in knots
To think that I missed my chance
Do I use others as restarts
Or is it a natural thing to want you
As maybe, just a piece of her
Jonathan Witte Mar 2017
Stalled in afternoon traffic
by the crack of a jackhammer
and the smell of hot asphalt,
what else is there to do but wait
for the sun-kissed woman
in muddy work boots and
orange vest to acknowledge me.

She has a tattoo of an AR-15
on her left forearm and more
ink (an octopus?) under her eye.

She is in total control.

Her unclasped safety
vest ***** in the wind.
The smoke from her
Marlboro Red snakes
down the line of cars
and wafts into my open
window with a smell
so strong she should
be riding shotgun.

She alone will deliver me.

As the jackhammer
fires on full auto,
I wait like a child
for my turn to go.

Her eyes squint and the octopus
squirms and my afternoon restarts
with another twist of her gloved hand,
the sign revolving from Stop to Slow.
Meghan Jun 2011
That feeling
That tingle
That want
That need
Its coming back
So silent- unseen
Ill sneak a quick one
No one will see
'Cause I'm the happy girl
Sadness can't be

I don't cut
I don't burn
I don't stab
I just yearn
For that next quick fix
Oh when will I learn?

I scratch
and I scratch
and I scratch
and I scratch
Until I look at my arm
and see one bare patch.
Where the skin is removed
A scab will soon form
Then my arm will heal
So nice and warm.

I feel disgraced
and say never again
I believe myself
But I go insane

As the cycle restarts
And I begin my peeling
I think back and remember
That feeling
That tingle
That want
That need
Its coming back
So silent- unseen...
Terry Collett Dec 2013
Her parents are rowing.

Alice hides in a door way
of the semi-dark passage,
pressing her back against
the door's old wood.

His baritone bark,
her mother's soprano screech,
words reaching beyond
walls hold and depth.

She closes her eyes
against the dimness
and half light,
to hear more or better.

She has evaded
the nanny's search,
ignored the siren's voice,
had hidden and smiled.

The row goes on,
voices higher,
her ears catch at sounds
that float her way.

Far off,
she hears the nanny's voice
grow more desperate
in the morning search.

She misses
her mother's touch and hold,
misses the bedtime
reads and kisses,
instead,
the nanny bids her goodnight
and shuts out the light
with neither kiss or hold
or any caress
as her mother gave.

Silence greets her ears;
the row has ceased.  

The semi-dark
embraces her unkindly,
her closed eyes bring
no comfort to her mind.

A bang and slam,
the row restarts,
Alice opens her eyes
to the semi-dark,
the vibrating voice
of her father's bark.

A slither of light appears
from the passageway beyond,
one walks slow
along the carpet's length,
footsteps soft
against the rowing sounds.

The thin maid appears,
stands gawking,
hands red and thin
by her narrow sides.

What you doing here?
Alice shrugs.
Come, the maid says,
this is no place
for tender ears to wait.

Alice hesitates,
then, taking
the proffered hand
walks along the semi-dark,
the voices
like the drowned
upon the sea,
then off along
the lower regions of the house,
where sounds don't reach
so wild, for one such as she,
a little child.
Keith Ren Sep 2010
The bare ****** twit-lay,
The amalgam-fed panic,
The tertiary under your bed.

The colors stained wholesome,
The moot-bares non-sharing,
The fake-jawed that leads to your red.

You closet them purely.
You love them with Soma.
That help-sleep that staves off the dread.

But,

Time restarts upon waking,
And age-speed does quicken,
As that ring falls
   from your finger

       like lead.
Rob Atkinson Dec 2012
I need Autumn to come so desperately,
I'm pleading towards it for some clarity.
I need it's calm to chill my bones,
I need it's time to claim as my own.
To see if I have really grown,
In the direction I once called home.
It once was something I knew so well
a security in something I could foretell,
The throbbing of the ocean's swell
those memories, they still surely dwell.
That wave of warmth that filled my heart
still lingers there from the start,
While even now as life restarts
that wave of warmth, it does impart.
Is this a fever that I can't shake?
or is it something that shouldn't break,
But rather help me finally awake
and see it's true meaning to take.
With this though comes some clarity
it's not something that comes so easily,
Time takes time so we can see
so Autumn please come and heal me.
©RobertC.Atkinson
Jack Jenkins Aug 2017
There's a spit of land where I live
Jutting out into the water, the strait
It's rocky, but has beaches, too
Lots of feral housecats live there
Breeding for years, now....

This place is where my innermost thoughts and feelings
get explored by my broken mind and heart;
heart... just a cavern anymore...
filled with the bones of too many dead friendships
dead relationships
dead friends
dead lovers
why is death such a common thing in my life anymore?

The rising tide wraps around my ankles but I stay in place
standing there staring at the country across the strait
the mountains I've never climbed and I wonder why;
why do I feel so hopeless and destitute anymore?
Why do I bother living anymore when all I know is pain?
How come I feel like I'm drowning from the inside out?
the water is to my knees

I've loved three women in my life
tried to love a dozen more but couldn't
tried to save a hundred souls and can't
so I cry in a pillow at night
I cry standing here and now
salty tears mixing with salty water
just a drop in the ocean I can't change
why can't I change my life?
why can't I make things right?

I keep building up walls but the water pours over
up to my neck and I'm still standing still
I'm a statue with a stone heart,
no,
a stone shell of a heart
cuz I invited hell to my heart
I lost my start
and there's no restarts
High tide fills my lungs
just close my eyes and let it happen
I can write death, but love is beyond me...
Skye Fall May 2013
engaged in a reluctant dance
trying to give you a chance
we stumble, we fumble
you pull me onwards as the violins grumble
suddenly the music stops
as a I hear your words my heart drops
a new partner I must find
to unravel the mysteries in my mind
the song restarts, cymbals crashing
out the door I feel like dashing
yet tentatively on I glide
from your gaze I cannot hide
I see the truth gleaming in your eyes
struggle to keep from telling myself more lies
I want to leap away
perform a grand jété
outwards I twirl
feelings a whirl
spinning away from your hold
turning my expressions cold
yet as your grasp tightens
the torment inside me lightens
you pull me close, you pull me near
all the whirling thoughts become clear
you won't let me go until I'm ready
instead you'll stay and hold me steady
until the day it's time for my first solo dance
the day I finally give life a chance
It's like the world is revolving in the wrong direction,
You try with all your might and all your soul to steer it right,
But you're a lone ranger, a whisper in a monstrous typhoon, a wasp amid titans,
You're a torchlight, bright and fierce in the dark-yet your competition is the sun.
But don't wallow in doubt,shame or self pity,
Or in all your frailty, in all your sensitivity.
You may think you stand alone or that you are but a pebble standing against a raging sea.
Yet stand strong, firm, unmoving, even as the large warriors flee,
For you have within you One who is greater than all,
One who makes life worth living, One who gives life and removes death's pall.
He who restarts your life when all seems to stall,
He who gives you wings and teaches you not to crawl;
He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways,
They will lift you up in their hands, they will protect you always...
Your foot will neither dash against a stone, nor rock,
Nor viper, nor shall it land in a ***** pond.
His might surpasses your fight,
To catch flight and keep in sight-of Perfection.
Good night.
Sometimes we forget that there is always help. Be inspired.

— The End —