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heidi Jun 2010
They came in the night- unannounced
Seering pain that tore my heart
This is it,   I,m going to die
No wait, ... its just another ****
Heidi 2010
Robert C Howard Jul 2015
Two billion years ago
the river we call Colorado
opened a **** in the Kaibab Plateau

sculpting sandstone, granite, and limestone spectra
on the rugged canyon walls -
reflecting the seering Arizona sun.

Millennial torrents scoured the surface.
Juniper and Aspen, torn from the expanding banks,
****** into the river's red-stained vortex.

All the while the restless Colorado,
obedient to gravity's law,
scoured its bed a mile below the rim.
The last dinosaur perished - choked by volcanic soot.

Pangaea rumbled, groaned and split
and an eye-blink ago our African parents
stood to take their first faltering steps.

Their progeny crossed the Bering bridge
roaming south to build stone shelters
tucked against these canyon walls.

Did the Havasupai huddle in fright
of the jagged firelight searing the skies -
pounding the air across the hollows?

And emerging at storm’s end
did they gaze at the rainbow mist
spread over the buttes and valleys?

After dusk, with fires withering to embers,
did they rest supine,
heads pillowed on their arms,
pondering the jewel case universe above?

*November, 2006
Included in Unity Tree, published by Create Space available from Amazon.com in both book and Kindle formats.

http://www.amazon.com/Unity-Tree-Robert-Charles-Howard/dp/1514894432/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1447340098&sr;=8-1&keywords;=Unity+Tree
Edward Searson Jun 2013
The tortured cries of passion,
the bodies pain of lust,
the sticky juices of your love,
pure ecstacy in your touch.

Your sensual caress to my body,
the moist feeling of your lips,
given pleasure brought on in love
enlightened by your kiss.

My love, you are my ecstacy.
My heat, my sweat, my passion.
We belong within each other,
our souls, forever fastened.
Stefan Michener Aug 2012
Snatched me up
From a bored volcano
Washed me down
Scrubbed my soul-hole
Of sincere shame,
Rejection and dejection

Knelt down to pray
Before me and the Almighty
Swirling down
Dirt spins in slo-mo
Went down the drain
Echoing choking gasps

Wrapped me warmly
With your eerie love
Filled me up!
As if you don't know
You've won again
Stitched my open heart

Smash a cup
On the floor behind me
Give me a breakdown
Cup of mo-jo
Hot seering pain
My selfish violations

Smelling so tidy
Like a lonesome clown
I give in
Time is so slow -
Ignoring blame,
I linger in consolation
eileen mcgreevy Jan 2011
The flames were so high, Byron was fighting hard against them, to no avail."Megan"!,"Megan"!, screaming her name, he felt engulfed,  and light headed.A thousand thoughts raced through his head, panic, seering pain with every breath he took, call an ambulance, Megan,s screams cut through him like lasers, she was trapped, scared, how must she be feeling right now?
Wood crackled, metal creaked, echos, lights, sirens!
Byron jumped, bolt upright in bed,"O ****, ****",another nightmare, each one bringing his memory closer to what happened in their cottage they had built together.
Byron was working from Leeds, commuting to Killough, his favourite village in Ireland, well, it had to be, it's where he and Megan had met. He'd planned to run the architecture business from home.HA!, home, where was that?, he wasn't sure anymore.
As Byron strolled into the bathroom, turning on the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.Almost forgetting the scars he had aquired from the fire, those visible reminders that his electrician was skimming from the funds, cutting corners, greedy little *******. The sight was gone from his right eye, and his face bore severe scarring right down to the collar bone. A small price to pay, at least he made it out alive.
He made a mental note to get back to Killough, this very night, to see Megans grave.He'd settle for anything, any reminder of Megan, she was slipping away from him, he couldn't have that, ever...another reason for moving to Killough.
part 11/20 from the novel"beautiful words" (c) eileen mcgreevy and chris smith 2011
Ananyaa Kapoor Jun 2015
It comes in waves
mid-step
mid-sentence
a rush
it tugs at my gut
and carries me
out to sea
uproots the anchor
of my sanity
and engulfs me
in the memories
that drench every part of me
and just like the tide that washes up, occasionally
wetting the seering sands
just as quickly as it comes,

you are gone

x
Claire Waters Nov 2013
finally started the novel he told me to write 3 years ago that i never wrote because i was too busy being depressed and wasting my potential over him which he would’ve never wanted. for maza, for you, sincerely liv tyler and lacey chabert’s love child

*pre:

right now, we’re floating in space, and i can’t think of anything. no that’s a lie, i conjugate things in negative too much. we’re floating in space, and i can think of everything, our bodies are pulling us like taffy in a loop-de-loop like kansas tornadoes and like cotton candy makers and wheels spinning across invisible pavement.

but i wonder if it is pavement? eventually there must be pavement. that makes sense, right? when you’re falling, eventually, you’ll hit the ground, right? that’s life. that’s reality. i say these things to you so much. and you look at me with that face. you don’t have to say anything. your slightly open mouth is reality. your lip biting is reality. your hands, so i hold on to them and pretend we’re padlocked together and nothing could ever break our hands from one another because you’re all i know right now. you’re all that’s real. i’m so scared of what reality will be when you’re not here. what is any of this, without your hands?

and now, we’re just freestyling in nothing, an out of control merry-go-round accident machine malfunction explosion fwoosh. i’m dead and i’m still waiting to gag on cold metal splitting bone. reality. reality, right? suddenly the hard seering pain seems so appealing. i turn my head to look at you and it feels slow motion executed too quickly, snapped neck swung sideways like a dog desperately shaking off it’s fleas, i know your eyes are on the other side of this so i keep pushing for seconds and hours to turn against gravity and look at you.

except your hands, i don’t know where they went. i thought they were there a minute ago, in mine. i saw them. i swear, they were warm like beds. i lay my palms in them and you held on so tightly that i’m sure you weren’t part of the decision making process in this ‘letting go’ thing. letting go, did you let go? did you free your hands from me? did i hold on too tight? was our velocity not enough? my weight was so feeble i couldn’t manage to hold you down from being ****** into the void?

my brain is still trying to put the calculations together. when did you let go? where did you go? i try to imagine you spinning besides me still but everything is empty. we have no momentum. the darkness is arid, quiet. i feel like a shell. i wish there was a shore for me to break against. i want to call your name but i know it’ll be crushed out of my mouth if i try to speak, so i clamp my teeth together and grab my body, and spin, spin, spin. alone. i can’t cry. the tears would creep into my eyelashes and float into the sky. is there any sky? is there anything at all?

i keep denying. i argue with the world, stiff bodied and silent. everything seems like so much for one person to take on. i’m not good at remembering i am being, i am a being. as in i am being right here, right now. everything. nothing. where did your hands go? reality: the wind whapping the screen windows, hissing in the drain pipe. reality. cold, i say. too cold, my body says. cold like a brain freeze. no, it’s not too cold, i insist again. it’s crackly and comes in bursts of shivering down your spine. that’s what it is. yes. just a slight shivering. no, my mind says, chilling. and i tell myself, it would be the wrong thing to do, to embrace that darkness, right? right? and no one will answer me.

i try to scream and my lungs are filled with the yawning roiling nothing, like salt water washing into my mouth. i choke on the feeling and remember telling you that story about sounding like a strangled chicken when i try to roll my r’s in spanish class. you laugh somewhere and i scream again. it feels good, choking. choking yourself to…nothing. there’s so much everything pent up in that sound forcing itself out of my windpipes. and the earth does not rumble beneath; the silence says you belong to me. humming it over and over, pulling. you belong to nothing. you belong with nothing you belong as nothing. i can’t fathom this kind of anti-gravity. i thought we had everything. was i wrong? i don’t feel like everything, right now. i don’t feel anything.

so, i ask the darkness, this is it? the echo is swallowed. i can’t even hear my own voice. is this it? is this everything? i clamp onto my upper arms, squeezing the muscles tense. keep spinning. keep spinning. don’t speak or it will swallow you. keep spinning. there is no meaning. i don’t know why you let go. does it matter now? spinning. real. what is that? spinning.
new chapters will come, i'm working on it. this writing is a pure investment of untapped emotions, and that's all i want it to be for now, so i'm not going to pressure myself to go chapter by chapter, i'll just write it and hopefully you'll enjoy haha.
matt d mattson Jan 2012
Where are you my love

I am wound like a tungsten spring in my waiting
I am consumed by the seering energy of my longing
I am burning in the flames of the fire that I have for you

I scream your name
Into the empty air
Where are you my love

From the very center of my being
From the deep hollow of my core
From the bottom of my soul

I scream your name
Into the empty sky
Where are you my love

With my last ragged breaths
With my remaining strength
With my final words

I scream your name
Into the empty world
Where are you my love
S Smoothie Jul 2014
Folder: Heart aesthetics

The two of us alone by the fire in this wild landscape, tumble weeds and dust. the endless dust.  surely there could be some sort of peace offering that might make the night a little more comfortable than that of the past days. a small truce? suddenly I noticed him watching me. it was in a strange and unguarded way. he almost seemed  likeable except for the fact he was the most arrogant, heddonistc man i had ever met. again I looked at him. I bated him a little.

"dont you know its impolite to stare at a lady?"

There was an instant glint in his eyes and I knew he was thinking of the bathing pool. I blushed thanking the fire it didnt have the air to flicker brigher.  I wasnt quite ready for a reply.


"Yes, and I sure would be in trouble if there was a lady here! cause what Im looking at would be the pride of any man who had the pleasure of meeting them!"


He caught my breath my heart paused for a second. He was oviously alluding to the invitation he so easily tossed at her by the waters edge as he handed her her towel looking away with a cheap grin trying to convey the model of a complete gentleman. I saw him at that moment, menacing and I met him eye to eye. something strange took over me as I watched him leering at me eyes moving from soft peaks to nape , to lips and challenging me with his eyes. He made no attempt to hide the fact that I was desirable in the conventional way. Just not in any other way. but strangely I didnt feel threatened but rather bolder. his hand clinched suddenly as he stood suddenly towering over me. I got up on my feet and walked back a bit to create some distance between us but I stopped unable to mover further than a few feet away. my legs were unwilling to move and his eyes were able to rove freely the peaks and vallies of my womanhood. **** the fabric for being the type to reveal my shape in the firelight,  and **** the hot air that made the moisture cling it tightly to me.


I searched for meaning in his eyes, it came in  the unfurling of his desire and manifested in the breath of my own heartbeat pulsing into a crevice long forgotten. its revival took me somewhat, by surprise. and in the instant you saw it flicker in my eyes I saw it flicker in your own under the brim of that old leather hat. panic! oh hell! not ready for this feeling! uncomfortable sweetness and lazy pulses. weakness dragging along with it a wanton desire crawling molten heat wilting and yet rising in it a will of its own. I reeled inside my mind now lost inside the sensation of my body! reactions everywhere! A deep blush and a nip of my lip  to constrain me. here we are standing face to face a few feet  from eachother and that flicker had started in me a whole revolution. my thighs grew weary of standing so tightly wound together and my hips fancied themselves drawn towards you and took thier liberties from me. here I was held in an uncomfortable contortion hips lunged forward, tightened rosettes lunging to ward you and my mind was now working against me. your jaw seemed so warm and welcomeing and I could see myself nuzzling in the craw... and your hardness proudly announcing its desire to serve. those eyes those lightning sweet flickers, glowed over you warmth and hardness so appealing so pertinently appropriate in its impropriety.


Oh what in tarnations, there goes that waffling **** joy, oh sensiblitily who the hell cares! My mind and body argue and the shakes start to take over and I am completely confounded by my senses. then just as suddenly as it came its forgotten as the realisation of why this is such an offensive state to me. All I can remember are the words he said reeling in my head!


"The invitation is revoked of its warmth on account of your inhospitiable and ungracious prudish manner, but the polite thing to do is keep the invitation open at least on a civil basis otherwise i might not be considered a gentleman."


that was his gentlemanly way of calling her a harlot! Gentleman my-  Hate suddenly crawled up my spine and to my surprise it only served to flame my passion. I wanted what I wanted and courage and boldness took hold. If its civil he wants civil he will  get! I picked up my vanity like a harlott and lunged forward stopping just as quickly hoping he hadnt noticed. Hardly worth hoping. He noticed everything and he would surely call me on it. but insted strangely intent, he stood silent, still and focused. His eyes on my eyes I had noticed once I met them. A rugged jaw clinched and fist tight beside him. but his breath was cheating him of his composure. it was at this moment I knew we were fighting the same wanton battle. Pride dancing with lust, any hopes of love torn from the bitterness of rivalry between us by the fact that he held me in such high disregard. and I only as a pure instinctual reaction, do reasonably as any reasonalbe person attributed  such unwarranted assignment of character failings would do the same.


What was I to him? I found myself wondering what it would be like to be taken under his person, his strong arms pulling me towards him pressed against him... more rushes spun in cirles around me trying to find expression tight rosettes and puckering crevices landscapes once barren and forgotten had suddenly sprung to life. alive and wanting aching craving touch and now suddenly my heart decided to pull away from me. Suddenly fear flooded my body and then anger twisted its self all over me again. What the hell is going on?? Is it in my head? to hell with it ! I peered deep into his eyes and marched into his arms and forced a kiss to push him into my headdiness. and he obliged and held it warmly and gently, though my voraciousness clearly fell away at my noticing of this sudden cordialness pushing humiliation down into my throat and deep into the core of me unleashing a viper


"Why did you let me kiss you? "


I hissed, pulling away. he replied without missing a beat,


"It was the civil thing to do."


here I am rosy as all hell with a chasm as wide as the grand canyon with the words **** etched on to my pride.


"**** you! **** you to hell!"



I rushed at him and my hand flying through the air. it had its own justice to serve and I went with it. Oh hell, i went with it! Rage flew me up to him and suddenly I felt immobilised. My hand stilled hanging in the air, less than an inch from its target. His eyes now burning into me burrowing into me with seering white heat and an intensity that made me want to look away if it hadnt been for my last shred of pride refusing and rather accepting full blindness rather than conceede. suddenly his shadow fell over me and leaning down his lips parted his eyes softened and i felt the tenderly regard he was capable of it made me weak in my knees! I fell  into it as he caught me and in that sweet kiss, so beautifully warm. velvet silkeness I clung to him pressed against himas his hardness proudly declaring his intensions. it was a fit so perfect, that had there not been silk , denim and leather chaps in the way I would have merged with him seemlessly! oh the glorious delight of such care in his ravishment of me! I was lost, I was found!  yet, I was not even aware of anything but a dire need for his impending intensions to come to light.  then I felt him pull away from my lips. confused eyes watched as they pleaded why? He pushed me away and held me back from him like some vile rat and declared


"That is what youre missing as per the original invitation."  


He let me go as pain and humiliation stung my cheeks. reeling once again. I dropped to the ground. I put my hands to my heart trying to cover what he had done.  He had breeched my sacred place my soul stained and forever darkened by this stranger, I had trusted who was entrusted to escort me to my new lodgings... now my closest enemy.  in three days. and to bare for three days more. I am lost. lost. so this is what it feels like when hell burns you to the ground? and to think I almost thought for a second I could have fallen in ? serves me right to think any man would be different.  Im an idiot. That is the exact reason I need to marry money. I regained an inchling of my composure. enought to speak well, ok hell, I spat it at him


"I trust you sir, will be gentlmanly enough not to mention this to Mr Bently?"


"As always ma'am"


he tipped his hat and walked away  from the fire and my ashes into the darkness.


I stood there for a while listening to the bushes rustle till I knew he had found a place spend the night. I walked around the carriage to enter, I waited just enough time for him to get comfortable.  then ever so politely, gave him a reason to rise.  


"Mr Jones, would you mind helping me up the footer? I'm too afraid to sleep on the ground alone."


I heard him muttering and hissing under his breath. I smiled inside. for some reason it made me feel better. He slammed the carriage door and walked off again into the dark. I sat there on the plush bench thinking of him and scolded myself just as quickly as I had thought it. it was a cycle reapeated the whole night and as I drifted off to sleep I even let myself slip a brief thought of myself on a porch cleaning potoates while looking out at Clancy wiping his brow and smiling back... Clancy, Clancy Jones. What kind of a stupid name was that anyways? No woman in her right mind would want to marry a man with a name like that!  Mrs. Clancy Jones...

Any copying or transfer of material whether part or in total is strictly prohibited unless granted permission and directly credited to the author.
this is a draft from an upcoming work.  I apologise for the lack of grammar and confused tenses etc. I will refine it soon. any appraisals or criticisms are welcome.

Any copying or transfer of material whether in part of in total  is strictly prohibited unless  granted permission and directly credited to the author. All rights reserved.
eileen mcgreevy Feb 2011
Seering pain at the back of his throat, he could just make her out through the haze."Megan",Byron wondered if she could hear him, taking a deep breath, he held his arm over his face. He made a bee line straight for Megan, noticing her hand gestures for him to move, never, not without her.
A beam was shooting off sparks in all directions, causing Byron to lose sight for just a second. He felt a crushing pain in his ribs, he fell back trying to steady himself. Then another, and the beam landed between them, exploding into a million fireflies. The heat became unbearable, he was blind, hot, and heart broken."We love you my darling, always"
"And counting back buddy, we go, 10,9,8, and you're slowly coming back, so, 7,6," Byron didn't want to come back, not without her." And 5, Bryon, 4,3, and your eyes are feeling lighter,".He woke to the sense that he'd been crying, his face was wet, he was breathless, and his heart hurt so, so much.
"So, tell me, can you remember why you were clutching your chest buddy?"It all became so clear, it just opened up like a blooming flower, she pushed him! Megan pushed him from the falling beam, causing it to strike her.She, she saved his life!.
Jake sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head and sighed, his job was done. "I love my job", grinning like a cat that got the cream."Drink?". Byron sat up and pursed his face with his hands."Why don't i feel better man?", something was bugging him. Jake stood up and helped Bryon to his feet. "Let's go get that drink buddy, then i'll complete the puzzle for you, you're ready".......
copyright chris smith/eileen mcgreevy 2011
Nat Lipstadt May 2015
from the beckoning nookery
a firework sign comes,
a warning bow shot
of summer commencing,
the ever present
natural elemental companions
sun, sky, water, earth and wind
in unison,
their voices commanding,
calling out

write!

poet has painted this vista~poem
so so many times,
all is as before,
yet nature's sirening,
   a compulsed fierce fire catcall
poet once more,
endeavor,

write!

poet resists
for all seems a priori,
impossible to change his older visionaries,
defending himself to them

"all is before"
(except for the poet)

the Nookery is
the poet's corner,
self-proclaimed,
in soul warfare taken,
oasis of composition,
truthfully, a
confessional
seclusion salvation place,
within it heard only
the voices of
twinning earth and water,
sun and sky
striking poet's fomenting
heart~throat beating chest

other poets have been invited here,
for their solacing arrival
this poet attends,
perhaps only  together he thinks,
two poets with luck,
in contra-unison can devise
new ways of capture of  the
unceasing harmonies,
unnaturally eternal
ripened to perfection,
a constancy of hope,
in the unchanging, island setting

river and bay breeze,
sun-warmed waters
bring to him once again as in the past,
Shaker Melodies of West Side Stories,
Air adagio's of rock and roll anthems,
Pachelbel's Canon

this, nature's subtle way
of edging him on,
beseeching the poet

sit, rest,
one more time
upon the Adirondack wood worn throne,
pluck poems from us,
about us

write!

the environmentals,
so persistent -
refuseniks of the tyranny
of the past shout

lay us down to sleep
on coverlets of refreshed verse,
ours to keep,
when to the must of the city,
you
must

the poet,
contented
with the written word of
what has long ago
been removed from him,
fears plumbing yet again
the unoriginal error of repetition,
a sin of cardinals and small minds

the unrepentant wind whips
insistent,
seering sun shines
consistent,
water waves lap speak
one continuous shushing sound
persistent,
all together
demanding, non-stopping,
new homages and sacrifice
deny past connectivity

all is not as before
maintaining, complaining
(even the poet)

poet sees
the elements,
sees that all appear similar
in last year's' form,
and the year's before,
lacking the comprehension
of subtle modifications

eyes uncircumcised
see harder, look closer,
perceive
new combinations of
varicose veined blue shadings
in the waterways and the
fresh waving-hello colored whitecaps,
updated saluting salutations
quite like those of
friends past, rewelcoming him,
more real
than the error of self-delusion of
unchained unchanged
all, nothing
is as before

these waters molecules
have never been here before,
newly flowing nouvelles arrivées
from the South Seas and Antartica,
the Yangtze and the Amazon

today's temperate breeze
so adamant,
boasts of having come here first time
from cold Canada,
or balmy Bombay,
melting as immigrants to his sheltered island

all speak now in
new tongues, new accents,
all a collective
here,
come to me,
all the same quest

write!

the sun same,
yet newly born daily
burnished with a forever glory
send fresh light
to the poet's eyes,
each ray politely suggesting,
this summer's novice poet,
pay them
poetic obeisance dues,
and

write!

all is as surface as before,
but all have changed,
new summer, new elements,
decay wiped away,
man~poet must now speak too,
using uncovered new verbal molecules,,
recreating the ineffable solace
of a new summer
brought to him in the guise only of
familiar friends

all of us
have changed,
though seemingly minimally surficially,
Poet,
self-taught,
acknowledges, he too
evolves

it is this tale then,
the poet proffers
as his first serving of
summer-only fruits,
owning up now,
though man and nature
revolve in planetary unison,
all things change,
even the poet,
when in nature's nookery,
his compulsion
is sun blood heated,
and
skin breathes differently
in the nookery,
his natural old time, revival tent

happily now, he weeps
in tenderest of embraces,
when old, familiar
changelings
charge him

write!

Shelter Island
May 2015
L James Feb 2014
I remember the way you used to look at me, your laugh even when what I said wasn't ever really that funny. You looked at me as if I had something, something that you could never grasp, But something you were desperate to reach.

You told me countless times you wanted to have me forever and that I was the only one you'd ever love. And like every other stupid and young girl in the world at some point in her life, I told you the same thing back without delay...and meant it.

But I look back now on what was and wonder if it was ever really me that you wanted.  And I wonder what exactly you were planning to love till the end of your life.
It's funny, I was not planning to change my mind but apparently you were.

It's been 17 months and the run-ins with the family are shorter. The awkward hellos are avoided. The smell of you on your many shirts and sweatshirts is gone. The texts that reek desperation and regret have stopped.  You not-so-simply aren't what you were a year and a half ago.

'M'... And there it is, the countless amount of times I've typed in your name to get a glimpse of your life from the outside now leaves me crippled because I only have to type one letter for it all come flooding back.

The nights spent crying, the days I've spent wondering, the lyrics, the poems, the books I've spent time analyzing and the dreams from which I've woken up from where the faint but so real sound of your voice says "I'm ready to try again." Though these are all things that I thought would push me to death, I thank you.

These are times in which I found hope in hopelessness. Because as great as it was and as much as I wanted you back. I know now there's so much more out there, so much you lacked.

If suffering was what it took to find what was meant to be. Put me through the seering pain a thousand times over again because I know I can finally breathe and be truly happy.

Sure, the hurt comes back to sting here and there, but I know now my hope is found in someone even greater than you or I are truly aware.
Mark Albert Aug 2012
That single white light,
a freight train on your track.
Moving at full throttle
and I can't pull it back.


Trying to get so lost,
and leave all that I lack
I rush toward your arms
with chaos at my back.


At full speed, my chaos runs.
Your light can't save me,
before destruction comes.
Why can't you see?


Sweet thrill, darkened laugh.
You are in my way.
No way to pull over.
Night's here, no more day.


Spicy smoke, clinking glass
Chaos riding me hard.
You have to move, please move
or I'll make you scarred.


Burning light, seering dark,
Chaos slices through.
My rules dissolve in whisky,
so complete and nothing new.


Don't stand in my way
with your heart in your eye.
Don't cry if my train
won't stop 'til I die.


At full speed, my chaos runs.
Your light can't save me,
before destruction comes.
Why can't you see?


Could you be that strong?
Keep me from my pain?
Can your heart eyes really stop
My destructive speeding train?


I ran from the familiar,
you can't help me out.
Chaos is my only friend,
til my blood spills out.


Clinking glass, spicy smoke
I laugh in dizzy breaths
You are so much more
I am so much less.


Another sip or maybe a gulp,
water on my glass clings.
What does it matter?
I listen as the ice sings.

  
tearing me apart at the seams,
reduced to smoking foundation.
I revel in the darkness;
howl to the dark station.


At full speed, my chaos runs.
Your light can't save me,
before destruction comes.
Why can't you see?


Chaos has come...
for my Uncle Denis
Garland Baldwin Jan 2015
#7
and i am caught in an anonymous place
somewhere between healing and haunting
between numb and seering with pain
decaying and blooming
somewhere where the future
looks dangerously like an exit sign
and where the broken pieces on the floor
don't quite make a mosaic
ThatSynGirl Feb 2016
I have a small ***, but it's nice.
I'm not your average beauty but a lot of people think I'm pretty. Including my mom, but she'd never tell me that.
My teeth aren't as white as I wish they'd be, but they're still pretty. They're not as straight as I'd like them to be, but my smile is still beautiful.
My ***** aren't as full as I'd like to see, but they're pretty and plump and perky.
I like both men and women, God, women are beautiful, and my relatives are completely against that. I've met my father only once, but it was a grande time and I can cross that off my bucket list.
I'm a contradictory being, because I'm headstrong and confident, but as anxious and self conscious as can be.
I've got a lot to say to the world, but never know how to say it. I'm complicated. I complicate simple things, and over think it all. I'm cold and distant and warm and affectionate, and I'm hard to reach but not because I'm busy; because I rarely have the energy to try to keep up a proper or good enough conversation. I care too much and I shut down. People, even family, hear from me only once in a while, because on those days I am seering with energy and confidence, and most importantly, a lack of concern of if what I'm saying is right, or funny, or good enough. The best way to reach me is to ask for my help, but once I'm done I recede back into the background, where I'm safest. Safest, but most unhappy and unfulfilled. The spotlight is where I belong and it terrifies me because I am not good at being vulnerable and exposed, but I am teaching myself because they will eat me alive if I can't stand against the wolves. You will hear my voice some day, and you'll know it. It will be me. The shy, confident, unimpressive, but ever imposing girl we all saw a few times but never took much notice of. Until I'm ready. Then you won't be able to look away.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
.
Others would scream,
The burning, the flame—
Such seering cold and hollow
Open grave, if they could ever
Breathe in as the dirt piled on
And the graveyard rushed, fell
To bury all that was, doffed flesh
My torment and pain, of my loss,
A name as even the wind forgot
As it wailed, lost, lone, keening
After banshee had spoken,
No— in my skin, others
Would pray, forgive.
The banshee (or banchee), from Irish: bean sí [bʲæn ˈʃiː] ("woman of the barrows") is a female spirit in Irish mythology, usually seen as an omen of death and a messenger from the underworld.

In legend, a banshee is a faery woman who begins to wail if someone is about to die. In Scottish Gaelic mythology, she is known as the bean sìth or bean nighe and is seen washing the bloodstained clothes or armour of those who are about to die. Alleged sightings of banshees have been reported as recently as 1948.  Similar beings are also found in Welsh, Norse and American folklore.
Bryce Perry May 2015
I was driving in
deep night.  
Off the clock,
scrumptiously free.
I believe it was Modest Mouse on the
stereo.
The dim blue backlight mocking the
seering of the moon.
I love driving.
I love driving at night.
I love the buzz of
blurry lights and landmarks
zooming past my windshield,
like a rodent avoiding my bumper.
If I killed one I guess I wouldn't care.
I'd probably keep on driving.
I'd leave its soul to rot in the summer
tar.
Or maybe not,
Maybe I'd get out
into the
snared night,
and assist its little body into the woods...
Depends on how I feel tonight.
Loss.
Morbid thoughts collide
Loneliness spreads like flame
Emptiness overwhelms me

Crash. Burn. Stillness.
What was once there
Evaporated Slowly

Acid climbs my throat
Seering scars along the way
But refuses to escape

Like chains around my neck
I'm forced into silence

Like shredded paper
I fall to pieces

Pain.
Screams along the inside
Walls of my mind

Like burning flesh
I lose myself

I unravel and crouch
Into a tiny stone ball
Held tightly by the fierce hands of regret.
Annie McLaughlin Jan 2016
God,
(I'm not praying, I'm mourning)
It is exactly 1:04 in the morning
and 37 seconds
and I can't even ******* sleep
and there is no one that I can talk to who understands me
because the people that do,
stopped caring when I started trying. . .
I'm writing this here on this piece of paper or computer screen
(whichever you choose)
because I ******* miss you.
And I know that you would yell at me if you heard that word
come out of my mouth
but I would rather you yell
than not say nothing at all. . .
****, ****, ******
You're still not yelling so that means you must
really be gone. . .
It's 1:09 now, dad
and 17 seconds
and I have school tomorrow
but I can't sleep because you always ******* haunt my thoughts
and I used to think that I wanted to **** myself
because I thought I could be with you when I die
cause you said we could meet again in heaven,
you remember that, right?
Sure you do, that was one of your
last ****** days on this earth
But now that I don't believe in heaven
or hell
or maybe even God,
what have I got to die for?
In fact, what the hell do I even have to live for?
You're so ******* gone and
it ******* hurts
and maybe it makes me a ****** poet to write
so many curse words in a poem.
You would scold me if you read this.
But you can't read this,
and you're not scolding me
and you're not even ******* here anymore.
You're just gone,
and *God,

I need you to hug me and tell me it's all okay
and call me your little girl one last time
and let me see you ******* wasted
off your knockers one last time
and let me come home to find you broke into our house again
and let me listen to you yell at my mother
once more. . .
God, maybe this makes me a bad person
but I would take anything just to have you back.
I ******* miss you. . .
and no matter how hard I try
I can not put down in words the immense
seering pain that I have felt.
It's 1:17 a.m
and who ******* cares about the seconds.
I'm sorry... this isn't poetic or pretty... its just truth and ugly.
Sea
When pain becomes an ocean my brain becomes a boat, i brave the waves that attempt to sink my ship then cope. Sirens sing in foreign places which i cannot see, im lost at sea. Now the cold has frosted me.

I found the voice that vocalized its seering pain by will, for some to find while others grind behind with lacking skill. She spoke with me her words of hearty wisdom helped me rise. I left my ship and ocean to became one with the skys.
Colm Jan 2019
Missing the spark of your flash in the pan
The blinding seering light most quick
I miss
Not the way I'd behave when things would go amiss
No
I miss the fog of war
The flashing flay
And the feeling of victory
That most ignorant bliss
The spark
The flash
The flay is what I miss
Habitus
CastorPolydeuces Jul 2017
A broken heart and seering pain bring words carved of gold and dripping in honey. To attain true art one must either die for it or lose a soul, as the cost of worthless beauty is everything and nothing at all. I hope you know I died for you.
Mary-Eliz Mar 2018
through soft purple clouds
seering crimson and gold sun
melts the twilight sky
#twilight #haiku #sun #sky #purple #sunset
Eve May 2019
Fury holds their reigns

Knuckles white

Biting leather

Cracking

Burning

Bleeding

Whip.

Hate built their chariot

Obsidian melted

Forged and fractured

Brighter

Brighter

Brighter

Seering painful

Cold.

Loss broke them

In

Noone

Everyone

There and

Then

Gone

Snatched

Taken

Taken by winds

Wolves

Monsters

Such terrible

Monsters.

Pain fed them

Blood

Blood and

Bruises

Bone

Bone and

Tears.

And so full are they

So very

Very

Full.

Full of all those

Wicked

Wicked things.

Boiling

Burbling

Spitting

With all those

Terrible

Terrible things.

Ready

Stomping

Huffing

Calling

Again and

Again.

Oh, let us

We’re ready

So ready, so very ready to reap

What you’ve sown

What you’ve grown

We’ll show you

The fury

The hate

The loss

The pain

That you wicked, terrible things have

Shown

Us

Oh, we’re ready

So very, very ready

To teach you.

Those ****** souls.
King Emory Stick ( Salute To Tom Brady)
shaped throughout the love of God
gone with the breeze taken from Cape Cod
bullet holes through various love come keep us together (Love)..
an elderly muse shaped understood through the trees
baby's breath coupled with who shall please
marked in the course of beans

my true art shine in Super sting
so make me bleed the traffic torn disease
see ya latter please
searching...

potato etched through the surface of the moon
build on the surface as one
or has it just begun
lead us on Tom Brady...,

lead us to the pilgrim perfect shore
seering cries to case some more
you have to continue to trust in Jesus
licensed stock brevity

on my Gucci a seventh sense so perfect
want to climb to the surface
bask in the vast expanse
caught between time & space
near a bit off the course
stand still to climb

bask again in the pilgrim stance
Aaditya Feb 2019
Dangling along the ledge
towards a deep dark ditch,
an aftermath of your action.
With seering pain flowing
through me and within me,
want to jettison this affliction.
Will you pull me up,
or do you
love me enough
to let me go?
Minds a roller coaster, overheating toaster, like a speeding  jet plane brain is locked and stuck to the afterburners!
Seering hot flame, lava-like again, accelerators in brain cells operate in free range, deranged insane complex not plain, out of control too wild and untamed. A revolving door feet barely feel the floor, try to slow down but thoughts increase much more, to control this tempest I try what for? Like a bad movie that’s stuck in 4x forward this hyper syntax ship plunges onward, I carry on, within this skull is my guard speaking not  one single overheard word! I’ll use some lines from my previous rhymes! I say in all honesty with no sign of modesty, i make a lot of fools mad, they dis and trip on me, i don’t give a ******* what you say or thinking, I live my life the fullest you live for yesterday!this intellect reflects the jest I inject making you think twice and never forget, your comprehension is over and I barely started just yet. Try to dissect and decode complex text, this my brain child purely hard and compressed,  liquid thought concentrated completely cold-pressed and dressed I confess to impress all the best-yes Thats me wearing my words like a bulletproof vest, repelling attacks north east south and last west. Never defy logic of sonic ingest words like tonic absorbed sub-atomic get on it albeit you will eventually learn it’s the best that I’ll be it!!
I’ve learned my words all the best and the worst, I was never the last neither was I the first, but I study each day so my voice may be heard, the power of pen yes and all spoken word.
my illness is
Of the severe variety.
Limits against
What appears behind me.
Like a wierd design
That keeps re designing
Tears drying
On the sphere of where
What once was here
Now appears blinding
In the seering right
From  facing dreams
Of first light
After steering clear
Of ******* on the first night
Gotta get the thirst right
Thanks for fallout boy
For naming every symptom
In my curse right.
Not sure if I was manic.
Addicted. Or the worst mind.
Looking like  dirt right
But flying *****
Dont leave the perch behind
Until the ******* first flies
**** I'm the worst guy
Pull my **** from the dirt
In 6 months mother earth is
Giving birth guy

— The End —