"slammed" poems
Disappointment is thrown strongly at my direction.
Blame gathers in large quantities like a pest infestation.
"It's your fault" and words like "You always make mistakes" evoke anger.
Anger which I want to take out on myself and take out on others.
I can excel in my work of choice, I know I'm more than average.
The bad gets pointed out more and little praise is given for the good.
Stunned by unmoving words. I'm like a prisoner sentenced to jail, released and expected to do worse.
Destruction emerges from my enraged emotions, i wish your words could offer a solution.
I want to be an alchemist and turn things into gold.
It's ironic how I am a creator of words but cant create better words in my critics.
Conversations lead to arguments because i want to be heard.
I'm sick of revolving doors, sick of being slammed by your atrocious comments.
"You have no common sense" you say to me, maybe I just prefer to be in a daydream, my mind drifting away because life is too dull.
Realize that what you say has an effect and that effect can drive somebody or stop them in motion.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
I remember you told me
I was like a lit candle -
Warm and soothing,
But dangerous,
When left unattended.
If I had known you’d leave,
I would’ve burned down
The house we built so
Carefully.
But when you slammed the door shut
That last time,
You put out my flame.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’
I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’
Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.
I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.
I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?
The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.
Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.
The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
I was small then
She had a parakeet that landed on my head
and a bathtub too
with water so deep!
and legs and claws!
**** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!
She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
where bugs hung-out in the haze
of teenage August
I played in the tall weeds
with a shoeless Italian boy
who ate tomatoes like apples
and cucumbers right off the vine!
He was ***** free and foreign!
We played— reckless, abandoned
behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn
and through the endless fields
I didn’t know....
His name was Tony
I ate pizza with him—the first time
At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
but I could watch night flowers
bloom on wallpaper
She came in to say good night
slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
and I peeped her *******
like Tony’s cucumbers!
I had never seen my mother’s wonders....
Night spread its wings from the old fan—
a bird of tireless exhaustion
whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
tireless exhaustion
tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
stretched out on the whine
of the overland trucks
Route Five through the night of an open window
In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
crickets crickets crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
a summer child
not yet ready for the fall of answers
Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
I followed her everywhere I could
I was small then--
do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
of being sixteen
and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
while she tied her sneakers
against the mattress by my head
I followed Maureen (in my mind)
tanned and bandanned
to work in the fields of shade tobacco
with all those Puerto Rican boys!
She knew where she was going!
I was small then
...do anything for a stick of gum
“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
...through the goldenrod of roadside
through the smell of oil that damped the dust
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
the way the screen door slammed
on her bright behind
the way her lips taunted and took
the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen
I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!
Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”
Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)
…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’
“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
oh yes, I remember when I was just a lad,
I was really quite bad.
I remember this one fall,
I drove my parents up the wall.
Up in the air the conversation flew,
And to annoy them more I answered with a "mew".
As I climbed the stairs and up into my room,
I slammed the door with a loud 'boom!'.
I stomped so loud on the floor,
And thought "oh, what a boor!'.
And up the stairs my parents sprung,
Their nattering in my ears rung.
I kicked and lashed out, not knowing what would happen next,
As I looked down, I thought I was hexed!
For if you stomp and kick,
You will be changed quite a bit...
Long grey ears grew high above my head,
"Help, help me!" I plead.
Hooves grew down to the floor,
And I gasped as I saw...
The little boy was no more.
Frantically I looked to my parents who said,
"I thought this would happen, I guess you need a new bed."
Now the boy is no more,
My parents bought a farm with a large moor.
And I help out more now,
As my job is pulling a plough!
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start
Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell
All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same
As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home
Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ
Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position
I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ************* winning
WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave
The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise
Your in the way of the wave, child
This..... the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
you,
you get me.
like a cold whisper wrapped in chrome,
a sharp promise in a stranger’s home.
you don’t knock.
you don’t wait.
you slip in,
like silence disguised as fate.
you found me,
where ache sang loud,
where sleep ran dry,
where love and connection died,
and nothin' was allowed
but pain—
and the desire
to make it stop.
so I picked you up.
slammed hope down with the plunger,
felt the fire hum
as it rolled like thunder
through my veins—
and everything went
quiet.
and in that quiet,
he was there..
in the burn, the gasp for air,
his ghost pulled up a chair—
like we were finally real.
not just words.
not in time.
just this..
this ritual.
this ruin.
maybe it’s grief.
maybe it’s love.
maybe I miss him enough
to hurt myself to get close
just one last time.
you,
you see the real me.
no mask, no dilution,
raw, like nerve exposed.
you don’t judge.
you don’t speak.
you sink in deep.
you let me bleed.
you gave me peace.
you gave me space
to dream of some place
soft and slow—
between the devil and death's
kind relief—
anywhere but here.
you left tracks like poetry.
the monster stirred
but i didn't worry,
didn't breathe a word,
you brought me back,
for seconds at a time.
in that blur, in that high,
feel the pull from within the tide,
i sing the song of the the needle’s rhyme.
that’s the madness—
the comfort in staying sad.
found home in loneliness.
a box of ashes for my dad.
you aren’t the high.
you’re the hand that held it.
the lie
that knew I’d always sell it
to myself.
time and time again.
o needle,
you elegant reaper,
you plastic preacher,
you quiet sleeper,
you stitched a father
to his son
in blood—
not bond—
and called it love.
but I will reach again,
with my hands undone.
one more breath,
one more run,
still, every time I wonder,
if the needle’s already won.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
Most days, you're not a woman developer,
you're a developer.
You work just as hard,
You (try to) talk just as fast
You keep your feelings under the surface (barely)
Actually, scratch that
You're always a woman developer.
you're just so used to internalizing these habits
Trying to have confidence in your skills
despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand
Trying to make up for the confidence you never had
compared to someone who always had it all
Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who
is allowed to have feelings
Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god
for the fact that people call women overreacting
most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed?
oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism?
oh wow, can I even talk to women?
Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make
one noise
one sound
one phrase
about your experience as a woman
because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not
You let down your guard
But
There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached
There goes the thing nobody ever talks about
There starts the debate you did not want to participate in
"Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys"
"We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow"
"I just said they sounded like a brogrammer"
"sure if you say so"
"Isn't that just an arbitrary description"
How do you explain
How do you describe every nuanced experience about
Every male in your life
who have been exactly like this to you
How do you explain the light discrimination
The harsh discrimination
The systemic problem as a whole
How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk
Where you don't usually talk about this?
Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this
Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this
cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand
You shut up and move on with coding.
But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again
Because in the end,
You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Electric sun twirls its lava skirt.
Slammed woks.
Peanuts, chilli, limes and oil
Feeding him its lunch.
Shelter to chilli cheeks and peppercorn faces.
The air can't move its obese body to the rivers for a dip.
Darkness is hard with sturdy edges.
Curtains made of invisible beads and threads hang over the night in silence.
They spill against the concrete under rough hooves and feet
For the night falls like tight heavy lids.
Dusk is a bruised tunnel of vision.
Candlelit giants blinking rapidly.
You don't speak
For the night is never empty
The silence never lonely
Stampede of restlessness surrounding
Grinning from squint to squint
Raising embraces and chance encounters
They scream loudly to frighten the dawn.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
I Have Issues,
I'll Admit,
I Have Issues,
Im Trying Not To Get Split,
In Two,
I Love You,
And You,
And You Too,
But That Doesnt Mean I Don't Have Trust Issues
I Am Green Eyed Monster,
No Not Jealousy,
I'm Running On A Wheel Like A Hamster,
I Have Empathy,
But Im A Little Bit Of A Disaster,
I Don't Trust Anyone I Meet,
No Matter What Our Chemistry,
I'm Sorry But I Can't Compete,
Because I Wander Around Hopelessly,
Around The World,
Feeling I Don't Belong,
But I'm Only One Of 3 Billion Girls,
So Maybe I Do Belong
I Was Trusting Before,
I Got Slammed In The Face By An Opened Door,
I Thought I Was Able To Stand By Keeping Busy,
But Honestly I'm Still Dizzy,
I Was Welcomed In,
But My Acceptance Was A Sin,
My Thoughs Fly Like The Speed Of Sound,
I'm No Longer On The Ground,
Oh Poetry,
Let Me Feel Your Therapy,
I'm Sorry For My Issues,
If Your Upset Grab A Tissue,
But Inside I'm Just Afraid I'll Lose You
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
There is a frozen lake with a grand piano in the center of it.
There is an older man playing songs from our childhood as we stand around him and sing the words to his music.
The cool breeze is getting cooler and snow is threatening to fall at any second...
But there is soup on the stove and warm couch for us to sit together and lay down.
Drink a glass of wine, raise a glass for all our times.
Smiles, tears, dances and doors slammed.
Children born, parents gone, friends say hello and just as quickly say goodbye...
The old man is tickling the ivory and the ebony keys - songs like brown eyed girl and I guess that's why they call it the blues. He plays Cole Porter and Ira Gershwin tunes too...
We hold hands and I want to take you in my arms and sweep you off your feet, fly away to another world...another time...
But the lake is frozen, the snow is beginning to fall and the soup is on the stove...I can smell it from here...
So say goodbye to the sadness, say goodbye to that old man, playing Fire and Rain...maybe tomorrow we can do this all again.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
(explicit)
**** my soul
with poetry
scream out my gracious name
slay me with words
that peel my layers
and simultaneously
drive me
insane
finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
push me past my
tender limits
into tongues of syntax,
sublime
alliterate my senses
(in swift stac
c-at
o)
until my mind is but blank verse
mess up my stressed
and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed
I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
I will be able to make)
as you stroke
my iambic pentameter
in the heat of frothed-up
ache
we are this heroic couplet, you see
even if the meaning seems veiled
no need for simile or metaphor
as I feel your chest rise
in deep inhale
we are a natural paradox
so many ironies abound
discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
in visible darkness found
and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
into mine
our lines have no beginning,
no end
as we undo
the boundaries
of time
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
If you've felt the floor
At the bottom of your cave
After falling 40 feet
Blood across your lips
Body slammed across
The field of rocks and dirt
Unable to move
Days go by slower
All you can hear are screams
As you shut your eyes
If you've been there, my friend
You've felt the thirst
Which nothing can tame
It's in the air at night
In your bones at light
The eyes are majestic
The feeling is soft
And your veins are cold
It is all you want
To reach out and take it
Ravage it over and over
As it asks for more
******* out the life
And breathing into yours
It drives you mad with frenzy!
Rushing all over your body
And you can't stop till
You've had enough
Floating away with the waves
Waiting to come back for more
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
******* of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
6.2k
I knew she was like water, she'd probably wish to be compared to a sea but she was more like a lake. Still, calm, never moving without an outside force.
But still I loved her. Her calming waters soothed my wounds and her reflective surface forced me to see myself the way I am. But still she never moved. I could ripple her surface, make her waters splash upon new sides of her shores, but in doing so I watched in somber wonder as she washed the people in her shallows up upon her banks, sore and bruised down to their hearts, and neither would reach for the other, trapped in the curse of stillness.
She assured me she loved me, she assured me I'd always stay in the deepest depth of her heart. And yet slowly, what was once a depth so warm and vast, I found my toes grazing the bottom, and every time I did I tried to swim back, back to where the water was endless, bottomless, yet never could I stay there long. Other people were causing wakes, and fighting against them was becoming difficult, for I am not the strongest swimmer.
I began to wonder whether I was still welcome, for her silences were getting longer, her ripples I could cause we're so much smaller, and in my self doubt those wakes moved me ever closer to the shore, and with each step I could take full footed along the bottom I began to sob.
I tried curling myself into a ball in those shallows, tried to allow the water to cover my head and tell myself I still mattered. But the water here was so frigid, my lips began to turn blue and my lungs burned. I'd return to the surface and take long breaths and use them to scream silently.
From where I stood, the water only knee deep I saw the figure of a man at her center, and as he raised his arms my scream became caught in my throat, and as his arms slammed upon her surface I saw the wave come rushing toward me, the longer it moved the more it grew and I said silently to myself "this is the end."
In those surreal seconds I remembered the others, and was reminded of her stillness, and in those horrible moments I knew I was nothing anymore, just another piece of useless trash to be lying upon her shore.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
today i achieved the farthest state from meditation
humanly possible
i slammed down the horn when the
wrinkled egg tried to place her stick in front of her.
my cat's hunger is only met by my
own intestinal growls,
and it's my anniversary.
i belong in a tribe of chimpanzees.
i'm too lazy to shower,
too angsty to sit still,
too apathetic to lift even one limb from that
sweet honey mud that clings to me,
that bubble of no-space, and
i have so many ideas.
i want to do everything.
but the pebbles turn to dark walls when
they should be cobblestone,
everyone cares and is trying to help me
i'm alone, alone, alone.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
'yo be my partner'
you extended your partnership
i accepted it gracefully
we slammed the competition
tossed the shuttlecock back-and-forth, back-and-forth
everyone was in shock
oh how that tiny shuttlecock soared
okay, let's be a little realistic...
0-3 was our score
we lost in pride
and in demise
at least i could dream we were kind of good
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
My sassy gay friend
Is not an accessory
When you go rooting through the closet and find him
Lacing straight ties into chains
Do not think that he will complete your outfit
Just because a rainbow holds the hues that you were looking for
Haven’t you seen that bruises also bloom in shades of purple and blue
Fading into green and yellow
With red far too often escaping veins that are supposed to hold it in
Haven’t you seen what marks us
And brings our identity to the surface of our skin
When closet doors are slammed too often against our hands
My sassy gay friend
Is not a decoration
You do not get to wear him at your hip
To flaunt your acceptance
And claim symbiosis
As if he needs you to navigate the streets of heteronormativity
Cutting short his words when communication is the best thing we have
And when speaking fails us we resort to spending an afternoon
Sending smoke signals into the sky
Waiting for security in the focus that it takes just to
Breathe
My sassy gay friend
Is not a collectible
You do not get to gather us up into a complete set
To line us neatly in an array
Of rarities and charities
And alternative identities
Until you feel sufficiently well rounded
In your attempted diversity
My sassy gay friend
Is not an icon
A token character
Or comic relief
My sassy gay friend
Is not meant to be romanticized
Idolized
Or fetishized
He is human
I am human
You are human
And if we see each other as sparkles and rhinestones
We're all going to lose all the value
That can't be found on price tags
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
That fist would drop a hammer on a Catholic-
Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again;
The only Roman collar he tolerates
Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.
Mosaic imperatives bang home like rivets;
God is a foreman with certain definite views
Who orders life in shifts of work and leisure.
A factory horn will blare the Resurrection.
He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross,
Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
Tonight the wife and children will be quiet
At slammed door and smoker's cough in the hall.
4.8k
Monet was painting up my vision
while the droves were driven out.
We stepped out to the derision
of a tenor waterspout.
The town outside is dancing
in the ruddy neon hues
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
And a cap was shaking coppers
in an out cove by the way,
where instruments and owners
had begun to play.
The bar stools are all swaying
whilst the festival ensues,
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
With the rhythm of the rimjhim
and the stamping our feet
we sing our drunken-whim hymn
whilst we stagger down the street.
And we had sunken five; still sinking
Im strung out, slammed, and stinking
Four sheets to the wind and freaking
about what I had to lose.
so that’s when I got to thinking
had an inkling to the linking
between my errant drinking
and the slam-dunk cognac blues…
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
The mason trudges on
night and day to finish
his masterpiece. Clockwork,
he waits like a prisoner
yearning
for the jurisdiction to
fall in his favor. Each
opportunity: he will steal it.
Adhesive to stone and
metal support:
This wall will not
fall. No, this one he will not
let dissemble. Opposing the
prior ruin, plagued
with age and abuse,
the once damaging blows
instead drive this puzzle together.
Attend carefully.
Every door slammed behind
to shut me out,
Each painful stab in your glace
lancing through my chest, into
the black cavity life has consumed
into me.
He will work
to layer his project, this
projection of my cautions, until
the last glimmer of light disappears
behind the last stone in the
last wall. Now a true prisoner,
my mind lies
in contentment.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
She spread her legs and said "eat this *****
I said I couldn't, because it was Ramadan.
She slammed her legs shut
like a door closed in anger
and told me to "eat **** then!"
but I couldn't,
because it was Ramadan.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
silver flute sits in the case
Studio awaits, soul suppress
Space slammed
silver flute rests on the stand
Insecurity of melody
Gasping for air
Trembling, closed off
silver flute plays a sweet song once, yesterday
For Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, & for Uriel
Resonance, chord floating,
pure revelation
last song of hope, courage
last wild witch prayer
Last organic sound, unplugged
silver flute sits in the case
Great Open Outdoors awaits, soul regenerates
Have we arrived to the sacred tree?
Silver flute will play Naked, wild, free!
All ears wide open
Open eyes, Open hearts, Open minds
True human connection returns
CODA
Silver flute floats in my heart & hand
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
It's been a year since you left,
Six months since you last visited,
(But I didn't see you then).
When you left,
I thought I'd never see you again.
But when you came to visit
I thought that that would be my last chance
But you barely even left the house.
When I heard you were finally coming back
I figured that you'd be lazy
And not want to leave you house.
But your brother dragged you out
And I finally saw you.
As I turned down the road
And saw you for the first time
All I could think was
"Oh God! Not again!"
An infinite amount of emotions
Slammed into my heart
All at once
It was all I could do
Not to throw myself into your arms
And cry tears of joy.
We fell into our comfortable insults and jokes
Just as soon as we saw each other.
It felt like you had never left;
Like it was any other weekend.
The next few days we just hung out
Talking, joking, insulting one another.
It seemed like we were thrown into the past
When nothing had pulled us apart
Before either of us made the mistake
Of telling the truth.
Watching movies
And giving commentaries
While eating pizza and soda
As we lay of the bed.
I wish we could rewind time
Just so we can relive those amazing moments.
But looking back on the past few days
And all those years we were together
I realized
I really do love you.
Never before
(Or after)
Have I ever been so close to someone
(ANYONE!)
Never have I told somebody so many secrets
Never has someone known me so well
Never has someone been able to say
"Oh she would say this"
Or "Don't say that, it'll make her mad"
Never have I been able to be myself and not feel uncomfortable
Never except when I'm with you.
I wish we still lived in the same country.
I wish there weren't oceans separating us.
I wish that I had the courage to give you these poems.
I wish you were here to help me through this move.
I wish I was in Sweden with you
(Or you were here in America with me)
I wish
I wish
I wish.
Only wishes are left.
I wish I could tell you I love you
I wish you knew how much!
I wish you knew I never loved someone as much as I love you.
I wish I had the courage
The courage to send you all the poems
I've ever written about you
Because there are so many
With so many words
That you'll never hear.
I wish
I wish
I wish
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC