so guess what, one day
I found a key (to a closet (in the church.))
and it was very dark and dusty
in there &
the ladder nailed to the wall was only wide
enough for
one
foot
at-a
time,
so, it’s lucky that
I’m skinny enough to wri-i-iggle my shoulders
up and through the hole in the
closet’s web-trailing ceiling.

I clambered up there and into this black
forest.
Plants were sprouting
up in big rills and clumps--
stalks thin as my finger and
pipes wider than my waist,
some fading up into the ceiling’s darkness...
others squatting low, and glaring up
at me with One. black. eye.
they were all deathly still.

Then,
the creaking boards, the black forest, the cramped path of unmarked dust that winds between the pipes, all that just
SIGHED and VIBRATED,
and with a hisssing hoarsse
!shhhhhhhh...
breathed!
and my heart just stops!!! BAM!





{cricket}


and i feel ****** into a dark mouth! i am caught and trapped by this black closet’s maw andI’mwaitingfor Godknowswhat tocomewrigglingfromthepipes-- ! --!
and then guess what?:

!b’URsting up its throat
is a SONG!
slowlyand Suddenly,
a blaring, screaming,
golden
!EAgle of a chord
that s(oa)rs and c’RASHES into anotherand another one
all rising and falling,
champing at the bit until One Thousand hhums and shhivers
fill each pipe.

and it feels like
holding ten coins in a stack and making them jump-clink-clickity-HOP together--
oh, it feels like
pushing your fingertips into a bucket of cold paint
it feels like the moment after jumping off of a tall tree
it feels like un-rippling your braided hair with both hands
like a songbird’s claws curling about your finger,
like closing your eyes in a hot summer-sun
and falling asleep in a hammock

it feels like holding a blacksnake
that curls and struggles strong against your wrists,

that’s what this church ***** feels like.

I’m gonna **** the genius that started playing while I was in there.

Thunder claps blood red,
Splattering souls down from the sky.
Rain pouring in sheets,
Undulating waves of shhhhhhhh,
Shining lightning, lighting the land,
Pictures in negative contrast.
Purple pop, poisoned pole,
Hit with pristine precision.
The storm gods must have seen
The sinking holes in me,
Since they're filling them all in
Floods of fragrant liquid,
Pouring out from me into the
Sob-soaked soil below --
Symmetry of the sky and I.

shhhhhhhh,
kick back put your feet up,
take a tea, let it steep deep,
open a red let the air go to its head,
get a book, shut it all down,
power off your phone and leave it alone
get off the grid, if there is one, with power
where you live,
flip the page as your mind steps on to the
terrain of words,
while your socked feet,
touch anothers under the cover of
not enough leg room,
but you care,
so you share,
the ottoman
as your imagination
goes to automatic and into the words
that create pictures and stir emotions,
that take you places and show
               you faces,
and lives,
and living beyond, the hurt,
the superficial,
the ache that seldom goes away,
the real world,
that may have spit
and you are hurled to the side,
and it always seems to be on the wrong one.

Take heart, this too shall pass,...

whether it be poetry,
biographical history,
   a short story, pulitzer prize winner,
a novel idea,
or a series with or without a quest,
may it be the best time you spend,
while being grounded in knowing
someone, near or far is reading
what you are reading and
is with you and with you and
is on the same adventure too.




©DWE122013

I use to stand in the middle of the road, just so she'd see how if feels.. to think that you could lose someone at any moment.

Exacting this kind of revenge is impossible if your target is someone you love so instead… you must tug on their heart strings.
This… is for you...
This is for the chosen few that never knew they had a blurred view. This for all those who withdrew themselves from the belief that they were cared about. This is for all those who dared to doubt. Paint us as the visually impaired scouts send out to find something valuable in you. This… is for everyone were still clinging to, and everyone else who fell through.

Machines break sometimes. When something is used frequently it has the potential to encounter hiccups in its regular cycle... and I am yet to find a machine more complex than the human body. And as forgiving and loving individuals we understand that these things take time. But not everyone sees those stood by their side. When someone loses their heart or their mind you'll often find… they lose their eyes. This is for the human beings who live like mechanics. Fashion spare for those with broken hearts. Sewing handles on their own bodies when others feel they have nothing to hold on to. This is for anyone finding reasons for someone else to smile.

We are so protective of those we love because we understand how much of them make up ourselves. This is for the mothers who ask ‘Are you sure?’ after they receive an answer to the question ‘Are you okay?’ This is for the parents of dead youths who slipped away from us far too prematurely. This is for anyone who hears a buried name and sings the phrase ‘if only!’. Because if only we had known, if only we could have done something, if only you had spoken to us, if only you were still here… This is for Anthony... whose gravestone flower bed is still kept watered by the tears of my brother and my sister. This is for all those who suffered in silence, the victims of violence the play things of tyrants whose sadness grew like a virus. Their minds start riots.

For those who feel alone... I do not mean sound angry. But it’s not your decision to choose to what extend we will love you. We love you! Love you like it hurts! and it does hurt because finer points of suicide are… when you hang yourself, you do it by the heartstrings of other people! Whatever toxic substance you choose to line your throat with will leave an unending hiccup in the throats of those who spoke your name with some semblance of joy. However many painkillers you take in under 60 seconds will never be enough to alleviate the affliction you leave behind. This is for we. We the engineers of empathy, we the deciphers of understanding, we the overflowing, we… who just want to help.
It’s complicated. I know we might never understand. But we all have better things to do'' than argue about how it would feel without each other.
So if you know someone… who feels alone…. tell them... “shhhhhhhh”
Then….. hold them.

With heavy breath, I bring
pen to page and finger to string
and hold left hand over right, to steady
my shaking wrist as I tremble,
the echo of your voice resonating
permeating
bouncing off every sinewy fiber,
ankles and hips and lungs and heart
beating for you.

I try to write of other things—
of clouds and car crashes and
mysterious men in dark suits with trombone cases and silencers,
or big whaling ships off the coast of Japan,
cold lights singing through marine mist—
but the trains of thought all lead to your
"I love you,"
to your
"I want you,"
to your
"I'm all yours."

The lyrical cadence is tired,
reminiscent of the classics and
traversing paths well-traveled.
The major keys with clean sound—
no reverb, no filter, no distortion—
are boring and basic,
and the vocal sickly sweet
and the floor toms empty
and the ride cymbal whispering
shhhhhhhh
over a cavalcade of harmonics
in a complete circle of fifths.

You are the fairy tale,
the "once upon a time"
and the "happily ever after"
that feel fabricated passing through the lips of others,
but more lucid than taste and smell when
falling through yours
mine
ours
pressed
pushed
touch
close.

It all devolves
into tangled limbs
bright colors
and whispered, made up words.
The ones that exist simply won't do.

I write every song
every single ******* song
for you.

like sanity fading to the back of my mind
a mind of which i no longer hold claim to
controlled and medicated
for false reasons
a misguided diease
i stare in horror at figures you dont see
dileauded grasp on reality
objects resemble those from a dream
i try to hide the tears
but they guide their way down my cheeks
fall softly upon my lips
i taste their salty kiss.
sense of sweet nothingness
and everything all at once
shhhhhhhh
if you listen you can hear them calling my name
like their screaming out to me
in vain attempts to help me stay sane.
so baby hold my hand
i promise i wont cry
ill tell you all im better
ill tell you all a lie.

MAL...FUN...CTION!




Her voice was all italics.




Her worlds in bold

and in BLOCK CAPITALS.




"Shhhhhhhh!" I said

in lower case.




"Shhhhhhhh!" I said agian

reducing my voice to a size 9 font.




"You say you saw a head..."

I said




"...sticking out of

a brick wall!"




She just nodded her head.

Too scared of words.




And - sure enough

( God bless her little cotton socks )




there was a head

sticking out of a brick wall.




"Well..!" I said "...well!"

to steady my nerve.




I thought at first

it was only a ghost




a trainee ghost

not sure as yet




of the mechanics of the process

of passing through brick walls.




But the explication was

not as commonplace as all that.




"hElP mE. . .hElP mE!"

the head said




in a Capt. Kirik-ish

kind of way.




For yea - it was he.




I thought now was

a bad time




to ask for his autograph.




"Tele..." the head said.




"Yes, yes old chap?"

I said.




"...porter!" the head said.




"Ahh you see..." I said to her.

"There's always a logical explanation




...the teleporter broke down

just as he was being beamed down




through this here

brick wall>"




"Oh...is that all?"

she said




finding her voice again

and not too shy to use it.




And so we continued along

down to the local Bingo Hall.




Never was one

for all that




Star Trek stuff.

Hail! Hail!! Haill!!!
The newly born,
On this goodly morn',
Shhhhhhhh, do not wail.

for what it’s worth
shiny frost man
you shook me up last night
and your cold heart froze me
tangled up in blue and white
i’ll never see the endless sky
in your eyes
i wish i could be here with you
the coldest winter is coming
in a new shade of black
devouring the sky as snow falls
shhhhhhhh……

From the moment I opened you up
(shhhhhhhh)
I knew you were all bottled up
(pop)
Took off your cap
Didn't have to tell you to relax
You knew what I was there to do
(Sigh)
Provide a little piece of paradise for you
but in the center of your stomach lived a thunder
Nothing frightening considering it wasn't paired with lighting
but it made me wonder
Who forgot to tell you that you're great
You believe it anyway, now,  so it may be too late
To tell you in so many ways
Its fate
That the ones who starve at first
Soon feed the masses with their worth
Destined for beautiful tragedies since birth
No accidents can happen
This path to reality isn't magic
Its fathomed long before we start
There is death in the depths of our hearts
There is life in the corners of our souls
There is beauty in the compilation of both stories when told
Truth speaks to seek what lies cannot tell
Fear is the reason most things fail
So I guess I was afraid to love you
The same way I was afraid to lose you
Most days I am afraid I'll choose you
Over me

He crept his feet that night like a scorpion
Dead, even to the sensitivity of nature
His presence was patched with uncertain aura
Epilepsy at a time, later turmoil in saturation
.
My God!
I should have known by his sophisticated demeanors
And his beguiled compliments on my velvet lips
His reckless talks of treating me like a queen
And the dexterous hold my hips
.
His hands could bear witness that night
As my breath shuffled away
"be gentle! " and for your own good, "be quite! "
He did it like he had been born for it
... And my silent groans and moans died unheard
.
Now I only forward to my friend karma
But shhhhhhhh
He'll **** me!
... If you tell anyone

©️Drunk_poet

MOTHERING INSTINCT

Tears...tears well but don't fall.

Bottom lip. . .trembles.

Top lip. . . quivers

& just before she can begin
to howl...

...I howl!

I open my mouth
& - bawl!

Stunned
she stares at my open mouth

with nothing but
sobs coming out.

'I'm...cryin'...'cos...you were..
...gonna...cry! '

I manage to blurt out
(trying not to laugh behind my crocodile tears) .

She climbs up on my lap
(a sturdy little foot on each patella)

wipes my fake tears
away with her hair.

'Ah...Dónall Dónal...not cry! '
'Big boy not cry! Sillly...Dónall cry! '

'Shhhhhhhh! 'she sushes me
kissing a me(guilty)

of unleashing my four year olds
mothering instinct.

Shhhhhhhh
Here I come
In through the front door
I came to see you
Through the halls, I creep just to be near you
Into the kitchen, I go
To see if you're there
Next to the bathroom
But you're not there
Then to the bedroom, I come
And here you are
resting so peacefully
and guess what
I brought a knife
with your name on it
Shhhhhhhhh
I'll be done before the morn

THE SNAKES AND LADDERS OF TIME

She gasps
at the faded photograph.


A crease
hides my smile


"What...you. . . you
were four?"

She's never considered
this before.

I smile at her
disbelief

that this fat old man
could ever have been

surely not
her age.

She acts as if she is
the first four ever to be.

Ahhhhh the snakes
and ladders of time.

"Oh it's a long time since
I was four...but four...I was for sure!"

I laugh at her
incredulity.

"So where did your four go!"
she asks like a defence lawyer

turning to the judge and jury
of her lined up dolls.

"And how did you get so old?"
she clinches the conversation convincingly.

Yes...where did I go
I question myself.

Four year olds never die
I tell my self.

They play hide and seek in
the minds of fat old men.

Popping mischievously up
with a now and then yell.

"Here I
be!"

"But if you were four
once upon a time ago..."

I feel her argument
close about me.

"Then you should know why
I don't want to go to bed!"

I check with my former four year old self
and sure enough he says: "Yup!"

I have to admit she
has got me...there.

Trapped by my child's
impeccable logic...******!

And so we have 4
extra Snakes and Ladders

played with all her
extreme hysteria.

Stops only
when I fall asleep.

She covers me with a towel
from the bathroom.

Puts her self
to bed thank you very much.

Tells Mummy
"Shhhhhhhh...

Daddy's
sleeping!

THE SNAKES AND LADDERS OF TIME

she gasps
at the faded photograph.
a crease hides my smile

"What...you. . .
you
were four?"

she's never considered
this before
I smile at her disbelief

that this fat old man
could ever have been
surely not her age

she acts as if she is
the first four
ever to be

ahhhhh
the snakes
and ladders of time

"Oh it's a long time since
I was four...but four
...I was for sure!"

I laugh at her incredulity
"So where did your four go!"
she asks like a defence lawyer

turning to
the judge and jury
of her lined up dolls

"And how did you get so old?"
she clinches the conversation
convincingly

yes...where did I go
I question myself
four year olds never die

they play hide and seek
in the minds
of fat old men

popping mischievously up
with a now and then yell
"Here I be!"

"But if you were four
once upon
a time ago..."

I feel her
argument
close about me

"Then you should know
why
I don't want to go to bed!"

I check with my former
four year old self
sure enough he says: "Yup!"

I have to admit
she
has got me...there

trapped by my child's
impeccable logic
...******

and so we have 4
extra Snakes and Ladders
played with all her

extreme hysteria
stops only
when I fall asleep

she covers me
with a towel
from the bathroom

puts her self
to bed thank
you very much

tells Mummy
"Shhhhhhhh...
Daddy's sleeping!