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Becky Littmann Aug 2014
Have you ever seen the sun rise?
Witnessed with your own two eyes?
Watching exactly how it went?
Not through someone else's photo captured moment
You'll really enjoy it more if you view it live
& you'll appreciate just being alive

I've watched the sun rise countless mornings
It's like my own private showings
Each one completely different in every way
& the best way to start any day
They're bright & beautiful
Breatakingly blissful

You'll never feel the same once you've experienced it
& so many will never understand the feeling you get
It's hard to explain but I'll do my best
I'd imagine it's like fresh air deepily inhaled into your chest
Your lungs fill up with all the freshness
& you exhale all that causes you stress

Your worries all just disappear
Your mind is calm & clear
It's a feeling that just forever stays
Until your dying days
Joy & happiness is all you release
It is what brings you inner peace

All you care to do now is enjoy everything
No matter the troubles & obstacles life may bring
A happy soul is all you've got & need
Your heart has compassion & optimism is what you bleed
Sharing your smile with all you pass or whoever you meet
That is your favorite way to say hello & greet

All from experiencing a live sun rise happen
That all may seem impossible to imagine
All that out of just a sun rising?
When it happens to you, it IS quite surprising
Shocking at first, you just can't believe how you feel
& you wonder how can this even be real?

If you allow yourself to let go of your worries & any doubt
Then you make room to clearly feel what it's about
You're allowing yourself to be vulnerable
& that's when you become more relatable
Clearing your clouded mind of opinions from useless chatter
Let's you finally enjoy what most may think or say doesn't really matter

Those are the ones who don't pay a lot of attention
& are afraid to get lost in their imagination
Never will they set a foot out of their "safe" box & risk crossing that thin line
It's OK, it's their loss & that's just fine
They'll just never understand your constant positive attitude
& can't recall a time you were even the slightest bit rude

They will never know how to just live happily
Inside their soul will be dying slowly
Some won't see how beautiful a sun rise really is
It's something no one should ever miss
A sun rise & even a sun set
Are too amazing to just forget!!
dissipated and disillusioned worms eating through the last splinters of the rotting universal wood.

the last transmission of regret sent electronically, spluttered,
into a tissue; in a moment of self indulgent *******.

live showings of vicious execution, transmitted directly from the electromagnetic waves into the alpha waves of the young and naive. Desensitization, the last drops of humanity into complete disengagement.

endlessly recycled bohemian ideologies whispered into the ear of the eager idealist. spreading like fire, before burning out into the uncatchable reverie up with the stars, with all the other reveries, shining bright, intangible.

Instant dismissal from the old man, as the big curtain draws. Cynicism and fragmented past, falling on apathetic eyes, a proud man treat with a padded hand. faux sympathetic tones, blushing cheeks on old bones.

Begging with your body crumbling to dust with the disinterested doc, looking at the clock counting the milliseconds to the paycheck. Decomposing until you can be swept under the perpetual rug with the rest, Vacuum.
Fah Nov 2014
Sojourn at the hinterlands of a fog casket
awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep        to dream
within a dream                         the nightmare of a mother's fear

depression is so easy to slink in
so wary of all those palpable sins
like being yourself -

awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep      to dream
with a dream                           the nightmare of a mother's fear
where pink haired ladies
talk about my dissonance

within a dream about the nightmare of my mothers
self punishment -

for birthing me
questioning                if it was the right decision

if I          was born to suffer
this fate

so i wake                  in the land of dead people
who's limbs fall apart
as they're names are called out by the concierge

to my voice as whisper
to my courage bubbling underneath
a mother fearful of coming close
forgiveness is a blessing
and the tears flow

                       out of the eyes of a child onto the cheeks of a woman
who's life was molested by other peoples sanctions
a woman who stood tall for the voice of others    children and elders
who encouraged chance meetings to be themselves via magazine clippings
and a mother afraid to come close
and a child still living the actions of a ghost                 looming at her with wide eyed slanders of " you ****** up , you *******
you **** up at everything"

it's difficult to look               it's like watching someone be strung up
naked
tied to posts
and the spaces between their fingers sliced
their yoni sliced
their ******* sliced
their heart beating wide eyed screaming
silenced.

My mother
who birthed me
whom i respect
for all of her showings
no matter how ****** up

strung up
and the vision is blinding.
and we're both crying
but i don't tell her
because it's lunch time
and she's ****** up again.
- a meditation dream -
Samual Jake May 2017
I sometimes wonder where I would be if I didn’t have that voice inside me,
Telling me I should give up, I’m not worth it, I’m ugly, stupid & fat,
That voice inside me screaming at me, making me feel I have to see the local quack.

The screams get louder and louder, while I become weaker & weaker,
However, what that voice don’t know, is I get more eager,
Eager to win the battle between myself & my madness,
My friends bring me joy & my family brings kindness,
These are the very things that the voice cant bear and this is why I am so lucky to have friends and family, who love me and care.

When the world is shouting at you, give up,
Its like a turning lock, it wants you to feel as to what the voice makes me feel,
Powerless, faceless, speechless, unimportant and indecent,
The world is full of stigma, with it they bear the sign of hate,
I feel I have to pass the ethical & a narrow-minded gate,
In order to achieve in this ******, judgmental world,
These people do not know they have sold their soul to hate things they do not understand.

But wait, there’s guidance, a whisper among the herd of negativity,
I can hear my voice coming back, giving me my sanity,
It brings warm joy, hugs and acceptance,
Something that people cannot or wish to understand,
I will carry on running to my goals, even if I run myself into the ground,
I will not quit, the voice and the stigma in this world are just waiting for me to drop, but they are giving me a reason,
For myself to enjoy life in every season,
Whether it’s Winter, Summer, Autumn or pretty spring,
I look out of my window and see beauty as I see the birds open their beaks and they sing.

I thank this world for keeping me going,
For not letting me quit my future showings,
Where I will find love,
Where I will find my dove bearing its heart to me,
Where I can finally be free,
Free to change the world with words & actions,
Where I will not be sanctioned.

So what am I trying to say, is never quit,
Don’t feel you have to run up that hill alone,
Don’t feel you have to suffer in pain,
Don’t feel you have nothing to gain from speaking out,
Don’t feel you cant shout out to the world,
Don’t feel you have to cry behind closed doors,

Don’t feel that you are a lost cause,
Don’t feel you cant live like this anymore,
Don’t pretend this feeling your going through is not sore,
Don’t feel you have to lie,
Don’t feel you need a reason to cry, just cry,
Don’t feel you have to quit, you are strong, you are a sleeping warrior,
Once you see that your mental health and your voice inside you is your armour,
Nothing will stop you.

Be strong, I am with you, going through the same thing too.
Nat Lipstadt May 2020
Late afternoon, tween twilight but before the dusk
in time for afternoon prayers, ******* followed by
the evening service, The Name reached out unto me
to touch my face, wake me from a lifelong slowing slumber.

My man! My good man, I’ve been numbering those days,
you will have no disagreement that you’re quite the closer,
close by, the chapter finale of our story, your living, a well
thumbed novella, enjoyed by many, and a favorite o’mine.

Do not restless rustle, no busing bustle, the Set Table^ cleared,
tabulations done, the sums and dividend distributed, in sync,
your words well distributed, remainders to be dearly shared, saved,
showings of great love, valleys of feeling, these your humble attire.

Look how easy the (our) words come, the fluids of a man for which
we have been long patient be awaiting, the company all in readiness,
for confession and days of permanent new creation, fast beginnings,
think on it, to be called child once more, how glorious this unknown!

Dimensions recorded, measurements tailor-taken, silk tuxedo deep bleu, luxe, a hint of violet, here-presented, patent, the leather for blue suede winged dancing shoes no airport dare ask you remove, before they beg you, say, save grace, just once, pronounce The Name, the one of Seventy!

To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, or last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, repleting all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites...

You, a world to us, a microcosm of a triathlon life, juggling the many, last of a lineage who could^^ pray, making rain, reading poetry to angels, giving comforting absolution for making storms, plagues, tidal waves, volcanoes, concentration camps, death marches, stillborn children, incurable sadness.

Quick when the curtain calls, listen close for the cue, toe the mark,
take position, hands upward joined, eyes down, ahead are fearless words,
a soliloquy lasting hundreds of years, balances aligned, only now you  needed, to make mercy allocations, putting paid next to all my periods, all in place, properly positioned, now comes an  evening song.

then to commence the writing of only love poetry forevermore.


5:00pm
Sabbath May 23
5780
woke from a half-nap, while listening to music heard a certain song, then wrote in a single sitting of thirty minutes

^^. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honi_HaMe%27agel
^ Shulchan Aruch
I love you forever, but forever can be taken so loosely these days, used as a malapropism on too many occasions, Let me divulge my intentions of the words love and forever, laid to rest to never be stirred evermore; side by side as our great ancestors are laid eternally next to their spouse even after life has left their bodies :
The world of words defines love as this:
”an intense feeling of deep affection”
and forever as such:
"For all future time; for always"
So might I tell you
"For always I have felt an intense feeling of deep affection and will continue for all future time"
Would you understand?
No, because it is not enough.
The dwellers in the world of words do not comprehend that which extends far beyond the strength of words, but I am persistent in showing you how deep my feelings truly are.
   Our lives are like two young daisies, just budding but whose stems are undoubtedly growing, winding around each other.
For you and I are personified in the seeds, and love is the water, the Great Creator being the sun.
Does that picture do it justice? No, still life images cannot contain love, that is constantly growing and moving in the depths of the beholder.  
So what of films that capture movement, a showing of what dwells in us?
Then we would be the greatest love story any eye has ever come across, with eyes afire at the sight of the other, with passionate kisses that make the audience swoon, and smiles that warm the hearts of everyone that receives it, knowing it is but a smile reserved for only the one I love, for my Heart.
But no, not even a film could Correctly explain the layered home of love.
For the inner workings of the Mind is an unknown world to the working of the physical showings such as film.
Like the thoughts and feelings inside me that tingle when your hands are holding my face, or when your hand in mine only feels right, or how badly I Dont ever want to leave when the clock has become my enemy once again, beckoning me away from the soul that makes mine worth anything. Or how overcome my thoughts and body are when my cold temperature is changed to warm when I am cuddled into the crevices of your shape I’ve engrained into my memory. Or the dreams that are a clear reflection of my every want and need…my Heart.
Yes I think that’s it, I’ll spend my hours when communication with you is unavailable thinking of ways to present my mind to you, filled to the brim of memories of us, my hopes and dreams of us. For my definition of Love is:
"a way of living, so strong it can overcome all obstacles, be it time or fear or pain, love can overcome". So my Heart, I love you, forever.
Always and Forever,
Dev
Barton D Smock Dec 2016
seashell as failure. bread my raincloud.

touching my face in a clueless dream

on sorrow’s
blank
horse.
M Clement Jul 2014
The question I get once upon a never:
From where does your writing stem?

The answer is inside, with a clever, witty reply, and an honest tinge in the vocal happenings.

So another never ever asks:
Where are you, friend? How are the days? What has happened to your writings?

The answers are: somewhere. Not great.

And lastly,
I oft perceive my writings as weakness
And outer showings of a deeper flaw, so forgive me if I seem aloof.
I have not yet managed to find the proper skin to settle.
Recent musings with a deep desire to come back to some sort of prose.
Perry Finley Mar 2013
No one will know
Who you were
What you’ve been
But Me.

I know
The ***** path of excitement
Velvet skin of the seeker
Stop.

Don’t let the smoke caress your childish grin
Your torn jeans
Falling fears
Your broken heart.

You’ve been there
You’ve done this
Don’t do it again
The forgetfulness

the glimpses tell all
Sudden showings of the past
The glistening
  your eyes tell otherwise

Don’t turn too far
Don’t fall too deep
Think.

As I continue to process
who it was

I used to call my friend.
Zachary Oct 2014
people fear what they dont understand
show your joker *** laugh
while im still holding my hand
compare what it is
is food for thought
when life plays both showings of ignorant  
save enough to pay for your spot
your crib
your quarters
your house
room or borders
skip lifes trips
only consume whats ordered
feel treasures from love not boredom
when price is love
then thats something,
youll never afford them
choose the road and car
that is better insured then
flip bugers keep child supporter and
miss money bag or no souler spent
im the now feeling the debit
to no one but my only threat
the foney  one thats kept separate
in the mirror
and regret the cig
regret
thats lit
Scarred and thrown into ruin where the hooligans fly in
Hurt to the swells of the most troubling and aching smarts
Spurting heartbreak and all the weaving of all that is hollow and dark
When I was a slave I guess I had no DNA or human mark
But in the eyes of the spotlight,  you're a star and now your attention is what keeps focus on par


Endure then the hells and swings so bitter as if you had no showings of a human better
The obsequious gods expelling only supercilious attitudes; then it's right
when the deed is done by the one high on the steeds of time it is no crime
But a common man doing harm will be thrown to the wolves like he is not worth a dime
It's okay when the master whips and steals bonds but the lower man trying to thread his life and bond with a love will be manipulated into despair and forms concocting separation will be effected on the pair
after all tears and inhumanities;  NOW YOU CAN BE COUNTED AS A PERSON
After eating their excretions and being made to feel as less than a thing - now you matter


Where feminism would be on a high but with much oblige,
She hurts others and steals and lies and cheats on her lover but granted, pardon your highness, she has done no wrong She is The victim
Oh dear oh dear;  where is justice - it a force so fair
dear oh dear, where is love? it a feeling so clear so cheer
---- Man hurts others and steals and lies and cheats on his lover, oh grant not such nonsense your honour for he is no different to a murderer or a ******* or ******
oh tear oh tear this man can only read about justice in his jail cell on his long walk to mobility
Oh sail oh sail, tears fountain his face and drain his heart of sensitivity -- love rots with the amount of his teeth cavity
where push-ups and mopping the floors gives him levity

But woman or man; shouldn't we be counted human all the same?
Once you undermine the divine feeling that can be expressed by another;  respect, love, empathy, trust, honesty, appreciation - then you have begun a war against your own liberty, dignity and humanity... But if you free these feelings or angelic gems then we open up the gates for the sacred and heavenly divine
and then perhaps each person can be counted before they are classified.
authentic Apr 2015
You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out
Your mind wanders into oblivion and you wonder if his hands still feel your warmth when it gets cold out
If the folds between your bed sheets feels the same as a bonfire he now sits around with someone else
The sound of her inhale and exhale is his new song
I do not mind that he is happy though I wish I were still a part of it, some days it does not matter but on most it does
Trying to avoid feelings that are unavoidable
Is like believing you can live forever
Fooled myself into thinking he was my fountain of youth
But I have found myself drowning in a flood that provided no warning signs, no television broadcast
Water showings up without RSVP
I can hear your voice in the silence, feel your breath in the crevice of my neck on the way home
I can still see you, even with the lights out
I am afraid of what I will see when I turn them on
Garrett Johnson Jul 2019
Conversation with some guy.

Have you ever killed anyone.
****, man we're going there already.
Well have you.
Yeah.
Who.
Charlie; in the war, had to **** him with my camera.
Oh, you were a war photographer.
Photographer, journalist, I've been a lot of things.
Are you part of the pine tree communist propaganda team.
Woe man, slow down.
Did you or did you not, meet with the monk of monkies in Massachusetts.
Hey man, your questions are a little too high caliber for my surf board.
I'm just trying to break some new ground here...well, what do you like to do.
Oh you know the casual acid flashbacks, Godzilla showings at the theater, um hanging out with some Samurai Chicks ya know, stuff like that.
Have you ever been to the mountains Mr._ ?
Well there was this one time when I was at this festival in Colorado, and this guy said he was going to hitchhike up to Woody Creek and he asked if any body wanted to join him, so I tagged along, he said his name was Chuck I think, yeah Chuck Manson, he went on about wanting to **** somebody but I didn't really think about it, he did play some music which was really good, it was very soulful.
(A heavy sigh)Can you recall where you were a few hours ago.
I was here.
What do mean you were here.
I've always been here, constructing this reality that you're sitting in right now.
(End Tape)
Goodbye.



Garrett Johnson.
rafsan Mar 2018
There were days when I tried to philosophically explain things;
of why certain existence existed,
of what shaped them to be them.

It is you who can understand why,
after all this while,
and for the nth times,
I wonder why it is you.

I have walked through the parks,
the art museums, the galleries;
I have traveled through the mediums,
spaces, in books, in poems;
Just to understand why it is the way it is.

It was meant to be self-destruct,
to be falling for you unconditionally,
completely without any showings.
But it did not, why?

Perhaps the answer is not supposed to be found?
Perhaps it is best if it is left unchecked?
Perhaps letting the river flows and the wind goes by.
Like how your smile glides through me nonchalantly?

It is you that I want to return to,
in the warm caress that is beyond anything.
It is you that I want to fall for,
of belonging to you, captivated,
of yours, in sweet surrender, forever.

To be drowning in these moments,
treasuring garden of roses,
a beautiful palace,
that your heart is.
- will you be mine?
Richard Reid Apr 2018
Their blood cover the concrete sheets.
Their face down to kiss their ancestors.
They whisper, nothing has changed since you left yonder.
The chains still are shackled.
The pain you felt are still stacked on my shoulders.
I suffer like you, giving my life with no closure.
The metal whip becomes harder to bear.
And our effort of showings is still a process to share.
I play hide and seek.
Because I pray for now, that my soul and the Lord wait to meet.
Simone Oct 2022
When the rainbow showings down-and-out for the treetop to drinker and breather in the foggy thick airbrick,
Do you think it thinks of where it is from. Do you think it knows that the droppers it cleanses itself in falls thousands of footballs uninterrupted to meet and disperse at the touchdown of its leaves and waits for each one. Do you think the tearaways of the skydiver fall to the earthquake with comforter or feast?
Jack R Fehlmann Feb 2021
The birth of a thought
Made to play
On my mind's eye screen
Always private showings
Has gray matter paints the scene
Of a life less alone
Kissing smiles and so much sunshine
Lives another version of me
He is counterweighted balanced
Though she remains faceless
This only compliments
And they are so trusting
One always lifting one always holding
Accepting and content such Bliss
My missing picture perfect
Inside weeping I admit I want this
Even when this is longing
A foolish thought forbidden wish
Lost and thought found damaged
A thought played then it ended and then it ended

— The End —