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MY FROG MASTERS

How thoughtful were the rainfalls
To water our gardens and flowers
The flowers spread wide garments
To celebrate their terminal beauty

The joyful frogs occupied my pond
To orchestrate their vocal prowess
They taught me to take blind leaps
Like lightning bouncing in the skies

Squatted, stretched, beeped down
I was a millstone on the pond floor
My slippery pond mates wondered
How soft I was in the maritime arts

Mortally rescued in a muddy mood
The clouds sent in rescuing showers
To confirm my firm loss to the frogs
Like a grain of salt cast into the seas


673. MONEY BAGS IN THEIR BODY BAGS

The money bags shopping for their body bags
Waggled through the makeshift supermarkets

Their ancestral homes they plotted modernity
Like the general gathering fine forces together

To the villages they made to return with pride
Like pregnant elephants caught up in the mud

Their desolate villages are deep and sickening
Glowing flamingly in the crucibles of local gins

The dusty and gravy pathways are like furnace
Burning the leather off from their frozen souls

Traditional birth attendants cut off their cords
And zipped the money bags in their body bags

674. A GLORIOUS DAY

The new day spoke powerfully
Like a war making superpower
And his voice roared forcefully
Like the skies forced to shower

The sunrays came dynamically
Like love responding to silence
Beauty crawled in submissively
Like the mixed arts and science

One eagle soared energetically
Like lions feuding in the colony
Far clouds relocated peacefully
Like souls betrayed to harmony

The breeze sighed thoughtfully
Like horses galloping on the lea
Inspiration unfolded thankfully
Crowns monuments with a pea

675.  THE FOG BANK

The sun had gone to pay our bill in the fog bank
The world foggily crawled into the strong rooms
Darkness demonstrated her strong mindfulness
Provided for the strong gale with lurking shrieks

The black paint billers snowballed to our dreams
With the bill of exchange for wild sunny excesses
Ghostly bats emerged with the bill of indictment
In demonstration of our acrophobic dispositions

We packaged the sunrays for our folk memories
To reassure the day of our eternal followerships
We cherish our follow-throughs in our dark beat
To usher the sunlight out of the hollow fog bank

676. THE PROTRACTED INTERNECINE FEUD

These things had happened before we were born
Like sulphur deep into our fresh hearts they burn
Now we stumble on the bumpy terrains in horror
Like one frightened by ghosts in a standing mirror

The internecine feud has razed our men of valour
With their carcasses dumped in their cold parlour
Our community cattle graze in the barren pasture
Like the unrepentant sinners awaiting the rapture

For our plight the once glorious sky is grown pale
Like the ***** fetching territorial waters with pail
The storms have rolled off the catalogues for rain
All our efforts to mop up the mess end up in vain



677. THE AREA LEADERS

They cracked coconuts on the heads for the crown
And embraced our days with their castaway pollen
Sadness and sorrow have dyed our garment brown
With the strongest song sung when night has fallen

These are the blinding dusts from our barn’s grains
They breed cunning serpents in the soft pasturages
They are failed cargoes on our broad societal trains
They dedicate our common committee to outrages

Now our days seek deliverance from their tentacles
Like the colourful fields immersed in gloomy beauty
They play our eyeballs with the stenciled spectacles
With our consciences to sight and found us off duty

To rescue us the colossal clouds were born gadarene
Our communal life was willed to pageants of gaieties
Then moonlight stories held us for a larger gathering
Now all the objects we sight dress up like cold deities

678. THE LAST DESCENDANTS

The rapacious thunderstorms ***** the skies for their tears
The hot embers were born to glow mourning the late forest
The moon crawled out of the blue like a great grandmother
Cuddling her descendants wrapped up in her ancient shawls

The wild waves were weird weavers weaving withering wails
The captioned wigs gyrated on stunning shoes upon auctions
The little creatures crouched in primeval baskets of the night
To gnaw at the generational tubers in the creative farmlands

The dazzling specimens of dentitions relaxed in water basins
Like bright red artistic architectures on potent ocean boards
Golden hearts glow in the threatening prisms of the furnace
As beautiful sunset defines her beauties in her nightly corset

It had been a sweet pill for the past descendants to swallow
Depending on the colonial masters for loaves, lore and lures
Our creativity had been packaged in their mortal depravities
Like the tranquil days resting sorrowfully upon the dark oars

The centenarian thunders downgraded our minute whispers
We had been kept upon our toes by the eternally sworn foes
At last our worthy artworks have worn their wormy catwalks
The refreshed dawns greet our easting days in their greenery



679. VICTIMS IN THE VALLEY

The victims in the dark rally
Caged, dried and browning
Therein their meanings tally
With waves born drowning

In the depth of a cold valley
Horrible nobles are cultures
Like pilgrims in the dark alley
Willed to ravenous vultures

The victims all robed in tears
With hearts like potter’s clay
For pains they have no fears
Only mimed games they play

For victory awaits the victims
Alien to a blind mimed game
Glorious are eternal rhythms
For death Christ died to tame

680. THE GIANT SCARS

These are our giant threatening scars
Engraved on our demonstrative heads
Our sympathies crawled on superstars
Weeping for us on their moonlit beds

They threatened us with nasal sounds
Like thunderclouds seasoned to burst
For us their galleries are out of bounds
Behind the iron bars plagued with rust

Our patience passed their wildest tests
Like the lions roaring in the thick jungle
On the heart of the Lord our faith rests
Like numbers posted on the right angle

681.  A LADY

In a lady’s handbag
Is her hidden hunchback
Stuffed with her heart ache
For the pains relieving groom

In a lady’s tender smile
Is hidden miles of similitude
Marked with the zebra crossings
For the ever winning marathoner

In a tender lady’s heart
Is hidden her cowboy’s hat
Soaring within the white clouds
To soothe the earth with the latter rains

682. BRING BACK OUR GIRLS

Bring back our homesick girls
Their vacant cradles are bleeding
Bring back our innocent girls
On the chariots of fire descending

Bring back our suckling girls
Their feeding bottles are weeping
Bring back our infant girls
Their mothers’ ******* are heavy

Bring back our harmless girls
The united universe is thundering
Bring back our dewy girls
In the sharp sun rising in the skies

Bring back our beautiful girls
Like light plucked from darkness
Bring back our glorious girls
Aboard the shore-bound waves

Bring back our worthy girls
On their fresh faces our lights seek to glow
Bring back our living girls
Our fountains of joy are bubbling to burst

For our returned girls the skies shall bear
Roaring rivers, singing seas, chiming clouds
With gongs and songs, pianos and praises
Dulcet dulcimers and documentable dances
With healthy hymns and eloquent embraces
All nations shall into a common cathedral flow

683. ****** GENEOLOGIES

They electrify their demonic high tables with old fears
Only their ****** genealogies are bookmarked to reign
The sight of their portables whetted our eyes to tears
We are reinforced by the clouds born to the later rain

Our skins have renovated the sickening cattle wagons
With our dreams flying upon huge smokes in the skies
Beneath their tables we abridge their creaking jargons
Upon their floors with our generational landmark tiles

The dew drops dropped like old crops upon our brows
To soften the veils falling to the flaming edged swords
The flaming hearted sword of the penetrating sunrays
Born to pluck us alive from our hotly bandaged bruises

684. LET US SPEAK UP

The light is climbing downstairs
And danger is sprouting abroad
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is melted on the glades
And terror grazing our eyelashes
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is late and lately buried
The mourners are on danger list
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light has divorced the grave
Her grave clothes are dew dyed
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

Silence is a forgotten tombstone
Lost in the din of cold morticians
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

685.  THE SUN

The sun smiles on all prescriptively
Like the waves spreading on shores
The green grass glows descriptively
Like the full moon upon dark sores

The sun is a tailor fixing the buttons
Preparing the sky for incoming stars
Like the weaverbird weaving cottons
To conceal the day’s damnable scars

The sun is a marker on diurnal pages
Tall grace he bestows on the flowers
The sun retains his graces for all ages
Bees and butterflies are his followers

Our common laughter is endangered
When sun bows down in big setbacks
All mortals have the starlets fingered
When the night comes on drawbacks

686. UNTIL HERE

(For Lou Lenart and his team)

Their floods came seeking Jewish bloods
Like streams they roared for our dreams
They emerged as columns of soldier ants
Like whirlwinds they zoomed towards us

Until here we were crumbs for the reptiles
Until here we were like airborne cloudlets
But here the sudden change unveiled to us
From here the elusive victory embraced us

With skeletal jets we fought like bold lions
Soared like eagles and spoke like thunders
We conquered columns of invading armies
The bleeding armies turned back and blank

From here we turned from victims to victors
From here enemies’ defeat our greatest feat
Upon this memorable bridge it all happened
Victories leapt upon our pool like joyful frogs

687.  JOY UNLIMITED

The fledging sun offers its rays
And the rays offer golden trays
For our joy a platform to spray
Rowdy paratroops like thunder
To scoop roses from pure oasis

Our joy is ripe upon celebrations
Our celebrations with decorations
Decorations with documentations
Documentations for all generations
Generations in our joyful habitations

688. ANOTER RAINING DAY

The dark clouds are wandering river basins
Spiral bounded by breakable outer casings
The rivers and the seas display empty cups
For the swift blessings descending the tops

The rains come as defense troops’ missiles
And the drowning lands look like imbeciles
Now we are groaning in the watered claws
With the liberated scales marking our flaws

The retreating clouds crawl away in a belch
Dumping the missing cargoes on the beach
The winds bow in a state of shock in a cord
Praying and fasting for a visit from the Lord

689. GRANDMOTHER

Grandmother, please wake and get up
The sky is quarreling with her husband
Soon they will spill their freezing sweat
On our bodies for us to catch dead cold

Grandmother, please sneeze not louder
The sky and her husband are quarreling
Soon they will send old floods like gales
To sweep mankind away from the world

Grandmother, you are everything I have
My moon, my sun and my morning stars
Provoke not the couples with your cough
Lest they refill their greasily wraths again

Grandmother, the big reptiles have come
With their lethal grandchildren following
They are laced with secret burial shrouds
With sympathetic tears tearing their eyes

Grandmother, I kiss you a shaky goodbye
With broken pains roaring within my soul
Grandmother, where are your groundnuts
To conduct my solo heart as you sing away

690.  A NIGHT WALK THROUGH THE FOREST

Lured away on an alluring dream by fables
I trudged along the grassy paths with fears
Upon my steps spilling the prevailing dews
The shadows bowed their heads in silence
Like the soul issued with a death sentence

The night crawlers emerged above boards
Throwing light upon contrary communities
In their hearts and eyes were painful tears
Crawling down their exaggerated eye *****
Like a handbag filled with rotten cosmetics

The shadows were bold animators’ shelves
Stage managing the horror motion pictures
In the ghostly commodities I met wild hosts
Lifeworks evaporated from my fresh breath
Like foreign tragedies in common comedies

The sorrowful shadows cast away their veils
Like the candles letting go of the weird wax
Sadly I sat in the sack for conflicting fetuses
Another sun appeared like a serial divorcee
Counting the testicles of another naked day

691.  SUBJECTIVE SUBJECTS

The sad sun descended upon her haunting melodies
Reeling from mysterious layers for electoral riggings
To harden the flowerbed for flower girls born tender
Disenfranchised voters came weeping in barren polls
Dressing the blank nest for the fat electoral parodies
With the mourners the faulty bells they came ringing
Like the angry water castigating a ****** port fender
And the smokes climbed upon their wide aerial poles
Arching over the emptied shelves with liberal singing
They subjected their subjective subjects to all objects
Fah Sep 2013
Time or the essance of Death

distilled.

No matter the who -
Someone , some force
snowballed.

The greatest daylight robbery -
that of our TIME.
TIME.
is not money

"At least in my books"
-me.
JM Romig Dec 2009
On behalf all of us who make bad decisions,
and worse excuses for them
I’d like to say that I’m sorry

I heard about how hard you worked on that science fair project
and how the teacher didn’t believe you
Because a week ago, someone like me used the same excuse
to get out of turning an assignment in on time.

And I’d like to say I’m sorry, for all the exams you studied for days to get a C on
and all the ones we aced without trying.
I promise, it wasn’t our fault, we’re just lucky guessers
I guess we could be little Irish
Like four leaf clovers are running though our bloodstreams.

On behalf of all of us who cried wolf,
because we fell asleep
and lost track of a few sheep.
I’d like to say that I’m sorry
that the boss didn’t accept the puncture wounds as proof
because we went too far one too many times for anyone to be trusted anymore.

For always taking the easy way out.
For every little white lie we told, that snowballed into an avalanche
and took you with it as it raced downhill.

On behalf of all of us whose dog did not, in fact, eat our homework
to you, the kid with a genuine excuse.
I would have liked to say I’m sorry.
I even had this whole apology written out
-It was cool, and rather poetic, if you ask me-

But there was this freak accident this morning
involving traveling circus, a ******* and a ham sandwich
-Trust me, you don’t want to know the details-

Okay, you got me
I guess some old habits die hard.
Copyright © 2009 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.
RyanMJenkins Dec 2012
I've been coasting quietly with an eye on society.
One eye's looking out for the hazards tryna blind me.
While my third eye is looking in, using intuition to guide me.

Sympathetic responses in an exchange for a shot at your wonder bra
I try to veer my course away trying not to expose those manipulations I saw
In myself I invest as a capital and so I'm brushing all the ******* off.

Your 8th pair of shoes?  Yes, another great investment.
I can't help but be disgusted as I bring on feelings of resentment.
So I let go, I gain control, and set my gaze ablaze on another page to vent.

Everyone's in the know, but the quantity of info is so little.
I can't help but scoff as what's viewed as importance is really artificial.
Eye can rise above, but at the same time I'm still in the middle.

Disrespectful kids, with blind belligerent parents.
You want change?  Just look at how your time's spent.
Calmly, look into the past and focus on where the care went.

The assumed superiority is a widespread, and welcomed disease, I'm sick of it.
Most of the privileged majority are better than everyone else and I'm right in the thick of it.
I've gotta change my ways in this maze, now that I've realized how I was depicting it.

The attitudes on display to all,*
While you carry around your expensive worthless items at the mall.
Almost makes me wish your exterior reflected what's inside.
The sneers with pride show that to none you abide.
Sitting on your high-horse, yet ungrateful for the ride.

I'm repulsed by the ****-don't-stink mentality.
In a game of the minds I'd love for some to battle me.
Bring your inner ugly to light and not even find it challenging.
This has snowballed into one big calamity.

Which means it's time to step back and breathe.
If I let it best me then only anger breeds.
So now I close my eyes, and shut out any lies as my mind secedes.
Just work on yourself, Ryan, for only then can the collective truly succeed.
natalie Feb 2015
I was the daughter of winter
when you began to whisper
in my frigid ear. I lifted two
snowballed hands and chiseled
through the solid ice; bitter
words pierced the raw mist
surrounding me, but you were
not disarmed. I tried to stop the
thawing, dreamed lustily of a
rapidly approaching sleep,
that deep freeze and muffled
silence. You stayed, shivered,
and I was suffuse in tender
sunlight, for you were an
Indian summer, a falsehood
by very nature—false hope,
false promises, false warmth.
Your lilting birds and sultry
air enchanted—I was dizzy
and drunk, melting slowly.
You sang in the soft breezes,
danced frantically in the wake
of falling leaves, and swore
with each delicate blue sky:
It will always be this lovely!
But you were just a charade.
I was no more than a pool,
heated from the diminishing
glow of your fervor’s twilight,
and Autumn waited, patient,
as the mask finally slipped.
I've been working on this poem for a long time, and am looking for some feedback. Thanks!
A Mareship Oct 2015
Your name
Snowballed once inside my brain
And was gone –
(I don't know the Russian for 'one' or 'two'
But for a minute I knew the Russian for you)

So go spend my winnings on the days you've lost,
Your blind-eyed perfect smile is worth the cost,
Good fortune means more to me than luck
But don't sit so close, love,
My poker face is ******.

(You were so good,
Your taste went on for days as no taste should)

One day soon I'll recall your name,

Where I'm from
All the snow melts in the rain
She was beautiful
rolling of silken tresses
cascading her delicate shoulders
as if Niagara falls
i drawn of her beauty from afar.

She was unkind
her feet was bitten with wanderlust
i could never fetter those feet
with letters written
from her flighty dancing and bouncing.

She was skilled
she snowballed inspiration in her hands
caused diarrhea of ideas in my head
she laughed at me
while i made a mess
over my incompetence.

She was
a past, a history
abandoned her starving soul
till she left, died
and now my hands are left paralysed
paralysed in reminiscence
of her sweet voice...
judy smith Aug 2016
A Penn Hills man will have items from his clothing line featured in a fashion show in Pittsburgh on Saturday.

Cary Heard, owner of CDH LABEL Clothing Co., has teamed up with The Ladies of Distinction — a recently-formed group of women in Pittsburgh and surrounding areas who are focused on community outreach, fundraisers and programming that benefits the educational growth of underprivileged youth — to headline his first fashion show as they present, “Make Me Over,” an extravaganza with a vision to “spread self-love awareness in the community and embody the greatness that exists in all of us.”

Heard, 22, said the show's goals were relatable to him as he relied on support from family and friends to pursue his ambition to become a fashion designer.

“I was always encouraged because I was good at (designing clothes). It was a talent and people wanted to see it grow,” said Heard, who has been featured three times in Pittsburgh's Fashion Week.

He said his friend's mother bought him a new sewing machine when he was 14 under the condition that he practiced sewing daily.

Heard said receiving the gift turned out to be a “pivotal point” to change his hobby into something he could make into a career.

Kim Heard, his mother, said Cary was “full-blast” with designing after that.

“He wanted to make things for himself, and his style changed. He was passionate about looking good in his clothing and making things he could wear. His peers asked him to make things and that snowballed into making vests for guys, and he made dresses for his dates to semi-formals, and then prom gowns,” Kim Heard said.

Fellow designer Starr Thomas has worked with Heard for more than five years, a time in which she said the duo has both collaborated and given one another input on designs.

“Our bond is just motivating one another and giving each other confidence to keep going,” she said.

Thomas said that since she's known Heard, his attitude toward others has always been “be confident in yourself,” and that he lives his own life that way.

“He's so passionate about (designing clothes). That's part of what makes him special. That, and his talent,” she said.

Heard's passion, talent and demeanor toward life has propelled him into headlining fashion shows.

Saturday's show will provide an opportunity for others to have confidence.

“Make Me Over” creators hosted an open online contest, where 40 contestants submitted photos and essays describing why they thought they deserved a makeover.

Two winners were selected, and on Saturday they will have a complete makeover and get a chance to walk the runway sporting a new look which includes hair, makeup and wardrobe.

Heard described one of the winners as a single mother who devotes the majority of her time to her daughter and hasn't had “much time for maintenance on herself.”

The second winner was nominated by her friend. Heard said she is “very involved” with community outreach, and is a “mother figure to many young people in the community.”

The person who nominated her wrote that she was deserving of the makeover due to her “strong cultural presence.”

Heard said all of the submissions received were “heartfelt,” and that he's glad to headline a show encouraging self-confidence, and gives fellow-designers chance for exposure.

“I'm hoping to make (the show) an annual thing. I hope it will bring a crowd that will create networks for myself and our other designers,” he said.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses
Emma Jun 2013
"You don't wanna have stiff fingers, you want to feel the flow of
Him in them!
So stretch your fingers."
They said to Oscar.
"You'll be able to feel how vast the blue sky is and how beautiful He is if you do it enough"
And Oscar obeyed. He stretched them, and measured.
He was getting better at it and could feel a sphere of warmth in his hands as they clasped together. The flow was real, it was! His hands
glowed and eyes turned up to the Sky of Promises.
Spring bloomed on the petals of his fingers and at last
Oscar knew what it was like to hold peace in your hands.
Summer drowned him in light and Oscar
spent more time stretching than ever.
The warmth licked his legs as he ran past the world, grazing the bitter asphalt.
The tranquil ball bounced with him and snowballed with heat. Decay sank into plants
and Oscar watched as Cold fed on the soil.
Frosty grass glittered like the asphalt used to in the summer, but
Oscar's sphere got lost on the cold terrain
after he dropped it,
when he saw that the blue sky he had been promised
was not in fact blue at all and that
it would never be infinite.
Shahd Mar 2018
A slip of the foot morphed into
an excruciating plummet into a void.
Before YOU know it, everyone else does
and you're bandaged up and tucked in bed

You've snowballed. It was out of your hands.
The word "Inpatient" echoes in your head
and you can't help but wonder:
"What did my parents say?"

There you are, still disoriented.
You're prospected expectations have
naturally become an escalated reality.

Now you're flooded with more
Diag-Nonsese and counterproductive
There-****-me spouts and handouts.

I didn't go down the road this time,
so how did I get here? Oh yes,
the ultimate phrase indeed "It's going to
get better, you just have to be patient."
John Jun 2016
i could suffocate you with clever wordplay
and say that i'd pay to lay with you for another day
but i'm past the point of the paradox and price
in that skirt that first night you looked so nice
i couldn't imagine what i'd done to see that
your walk is like a bash to the skull with a baseball bat

so lay me down and cut me open
let you see inside while you still can
baby, lets just vibe in the moment
baby, you eliminate all my torment

you're just a blip on my screen now
double-tapping your pics and asking myself how
how could things have just snowballed
i just wish you would've picked up when i called
now my heart is filled up and tapped out
but, my death, you won't know about
JAM Nov 2013
He might not ever get the best of her
She might never ever get the best of him
The phrase "hope floats" is like kicks to the shins

Hot, cold, rain or shine...
thats the weather and how the world spins

Bend, fold,try to intertwine...
live's together, cant tell begginings from ends

In and out
Up and down
Left, right, all around
They both start to recognize the sound

The onset of rot to rotten, remembered.. But forgotten
Like a drop of water to cotton, its absorbed, but drips keep droppin'

Heavily involved the situation had snowballed
As it dreadfully disolved, both wish the other still called

Nobody's fault, no reason to set the bar higher in life's pole vault
Tried stalling longer after already being stalled...
Its too late to light up these darkening halls

-J.A.M
Angela G Jan 2016
First and foremost, the thing I am the most scared to say. I've always been hesitant to say this for fear that I'd be wrong but the fact is every day I get more and more sure of this. The more I live and breathe and smile the more I realize I love you. You have no idea how much courage it took me to write those three words down even though you may never see this. Truth is, when I met you I started developing a crush on you, but that just snowballed and every day I started falling more for you. I don't know what it was. It wasn't simply your outward beauty, though I admit you are a very handsome, very beautiful person. It might have been the way your voice sounds singing behind me in chapel in the mornings. It might be the little laugh you do when you're embarrassed or that gorgeous smile you always have on your face. Oh, my goodness, that smile gets me every time I swear. It might be your sweet, quiet, yet happy personality. Somehow you swept me off my feet when I had convinced myself that I wouldn't let anyone carry me away. But now it's 6 months from when I started having a crush on you and I am sitting here fairly certain that I am in love with you. And all my friends tell me that you like me too and sometimes I see it in your eyes, in that smile you get around me. Sometimes I hear it in your voice when you talk to me. But sometimes I can't find it anywhere. I can't tell anymore. My friends all thought they knew you would say yes when I asked you to snowball but you said you wanted to go with friends this time and that's cool. I get that but that night I cried for a good half hour. That's okay, I'm not upset now, but I just want to know what I am to you. What am I? Everyone's telling me that the two of us will date someday, not to give up but I'm lost. I'm in love with you and I can't really turn back now, but I feel as if im wasting my time. Soon I'll talk to you (maybe) and find out where we stand but for now I guess I'm stuck here daydreaming. If there's anything you take from this, and yes I know you're not reading this, it's that im crazy for you.

Is that so wrong?
I'm such a ******* liar
Dishonest about a lot of ******* things
I don't know why I can't tell the truth
Is it that I seek approval
Wanting you to ******* like me
Is it ego telling me to say things I don't mean
Wanting all the ******* attention for myself
A friend of mine asked me a question
And I told him that I would receive more checks
Not even caring about how saying that would affect me
Or the ******* situation on that matter
It wasn't the ******* truth
And I'm not going to receive anything more
I knew that but said something different otherwise
Now I'm stuck in a situation I don't know what to do
It seems like it has snowballed from there
And now I'm telling more ******* lies
I want to do what's right
But now  my peace of mind is threatened
All because I wanted your friendship
But I already had it
Now I can't seem to get out from underneath this *******
Munch Gee Nov 2017
When pain surfaces,
it has already been blended and pulped.
It’s that untraceable mash
of the brightly colored clay,
that so easily, yet unexpectedly
merged into that
sickening grey.

We try to master this mess,
to understand and own
to both possess and disown
something we bore
something we bear.

But it doesn’t matter
if it was the Red
that started running into Yellow
that didn’t never saw it coming…
or the burst of Orange
that snowballed its way
and swallowed  the blues and greens.

Soon we will see,
that Grey is also a color
and isn’t just a haphazard mix.
So nothing, really,
needs to be fixed.
Elea McCollough Dec 2020
You know when people talk about main characters
The significance their lives hold
The value of each and every breath they take
The impact within their community
Maybe even the world
Their overall presence, glorified by those around them
Like Kings and queens
Their say means more than most
Their opinions and feelings always validated
And always supported
Now think of the opposite
Someone who’s presence is rarely noticed
Like walls
They breathe and listen to conversations they weren’t supposed to hear
But people forget they’re there
So they suffer in silence
Most of their screams are unheard until it’s too late
Their  scars often cut too deep
Their wounds never truly heal
They are never given an opportunity to live because of the infinite battle between themselves
They thrive off their insecurities and suffering
Their comfort lies within the consistency of their pain
Their pain rooted from unresolved trauma
Which snowballed into feelings of disparity and hopelessness
Maybe they feel undesirable
A broken record having the same repeated feelings cross their minds over and over again
That they’re too broken to be loved
That the glue for their scattered pieces will remain lost
That it’s not worth it
It’s best to stay away
Your love for them never lasts they say
Because as soon as you see them with their guards down
The ugly comes out
08/01/2020
11:37 PM
Tiara I S Nov 2019
How do I get over something that never happened
But manifested from within a beautiful thought that snowballed me to death
Its lonely here- without even a tangible memory
It was never real- I made it all a fairytale
It dissolved when you brought me back to reality
Disillusioned and mistaken- I still rock back n' forth two years later
All I've been battered with surmounts into colossal tons
Weighs me down as I try to get over
Get over something that was only real to me
Was only real to me
It was too pretty to throw away so now I carry the curse
And I sit beneath the moon making the same mistakes
these little things
i've barely accumulated
i've shared beyond self-interest
the truth is complicated
because i gave you these things
wanting someone else to hold them as close as i have
seems you took them and ran
and i shouldn't want them back
but i genuinely wish you could and would
that i'd be removed from your after credits
that since you ruined almost everything i have
you'd let me have my wits
but no
you are simmering with flippant disregard
ungrateful for what this took for me
emotionless as i can't compete
hope you can be that closed off when they have to bury me

don't cry now
i waited for you to love me
don't feel bad now
you should have cared while i was here
and no it's not just your fault
but it sure snowballed into an avalanche
and maybe if i could just never see you again
i could have tried to make it work
but you just love rubbing it in
the things i barely had
i never want to trust again
i'm dying of cold and lack

you can call me an indian giver
i catch the blame and hate regardless
and you can have back your rare occurrences and slivers
i started with nothing and now i have far less
they keep telling i'm too nice
i was naive
i never should have shared my heart

— The End —