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L Apr 2015
Sadness is easy.
Sadness is fluid.

Sadness is a teardrop
that flows
to a river
Sadness flows.

Sadness is the rain
that pours
on a Sunday afternoon
Sadness pours.

Sadness is a long drive
in a strech of a road
without trees
without people
without houses
Sadness stretches
Sadness is never ending.

Sadness is looking outside
the airplane window
seeing nothing
but clouds
no ground
no greens
no blues.

Sadness is looking up
at the sky
at the vast dark sky
without stars
without clouds
without the moon.

Sadness is the abyss
Sadness is blank
Sadness is flat
Sadness is stagnant
Sadness is easy.
Akira Chinen Jul 2016
Everyday of being
I fall a little deeper
Every day of falling
I find myself more in
And love has
Never been more
An honor and a privilege
Than being so in love
With you

...

And the words that made
My hands tremble
To write
And my heart fear
You would be
Scared away
Once whispered
And shouted
And put on paper
And sent over mountains
And across seas
Brought a smile
To your lips

...

And now though they still
Send shudders
Through my every fiber
And quake the blood
Within my soul
I ache and long
For each new moment
I can repeat them
And here a moment
Has come again

...

My heart rocks me to dreaming
Singing its sweet lullaby
Of beautiful you
And softly I drift to slumber
As I whisper
To pillows like clouds

...

Sitting on my pillow cloud
Watching my heart
Laugh and dance
With everything
Beautiful about you
I know I am exactly
Where I am supposed to be
As I shout out

...

As cloud and pillow part
To morning light
I can still feel the warmth
Of your ethereal ghost
Dancing in my arms
And before my eyes
Fold open to see the dawn
With my first waking breath
My mouth gently says

...

Open eyes and outstretched limbs
Dreams still lingering
Beneath my skin
Your light and warmth
Still hold my heart and soul
And in the quintessence of my pulse
My every fiber
Reverberates these words

...

Another day has come
Another never never
For the sun
Always always
Burning burning
Its smile
And flame
Dancing endlessly
For the infinite stars
Of your Vincent blues
And I burn in synchronicity
With the blaze and fervor
Of the never never
Ending dancing fires
Of the sun
And I sing all day long

...

My heart a puppy
In your hands
As day fades to night
And night gives birth to day
And effortlessly
This love flows
To endless oceans blue
Where everything beautiful
Is truely found
In you
I take brush to canvas
And pen to page
And paint and scribe
Of another day
I find the good fortune
Of saying

...

The blank pages on my desk
By brush and fold and cut
Fill with color and stars and love
Fold and shape
A flower
A moon
A queen
Little trinkets
Made by hand
And time passing
Through my pulsating blood
As your inspiration
Has set forth this flood
Were I'm drowning
To say again

...

Forevers flower
In full nocturnal bloom
Your hair of crimson flame
Across the endless oceans blue
But your floral petal scent
Still fills my lungs
And lasciviousness
My broken heart museum
Crumbled and burned to ash
As your seeds
Of dreams and hope
Have painted
Inside of me
These words
With every breath
I yearn and must say

...

Time moves to quick
And time moves to slow
Yet every moment endless
When waking in dreams
Of gardens of
Forevers flowers
And honey of golden blood
Placed there be you
And I'm lost
And I'm found
And I'm free
In every moment
I say

...

Free from fears
Of life and death
Tearful flowers
Weep in joy
An oasis springs
Within every essence
Of my soul
And peacful waters flow
As these words
Travel from within
My deepest depths
And sooth throat
And burn as they
Pass my lips

...

Swimming through paradise
Lost to this passion and truth
From my lust for
This most perfect love
From your beautiful imperfections
And iridescent glowing heart
In secret shades of darkest reds
Within the song of
My deathless adoration
Beating in unison
In these amaranthine
Gardens of Elysium
These words immortally echo

...

The chambers of my heart
Turned to Eden and Shangri-la
The utopia of Arcadia
As these echos become
The mantra and the hymn
Of the throbbing pulse
Of my blood
And every cell racing through me
Buzz and hums

...

My heart turned to golden hive
And my blood to truth of gold
And my every drop busy
Making honey sweet
For my one and only queen
The only beauty
My eyes can see
Shines from your heart
And wings
And everday I am grateful
To kneel before you
And speak these words

...

Of paper or of breath
Scattered paint or spilt ink
In living or in death
Beauty is your veracious shadow
Love is the blinding
Light of your soul
Your heart has the
Buried truth
Of what makes
Everything beautiful
And In your presence
I can speak
No other words than

...

My flesh and bones
Hands and fingertips
Have burrowed deep
And lost both blood and sin
In the depths of your earth
And aches and hurt
Uncovering both
The wings and birds
Of your tenderness
Lost so long
In this cold cold ground
I offer warmth
From these words

...

I could do no less
Than place my heart
Where clouds and pillows
Dream and weep
And release the storm
And wind
Raging from within
Let my blood come raining down
With seeds and hope
To nuture and warm
Your heart and ground and dirt
To raise your heart
To its rightful state
Of purity and desire
And passion of the fire
Too beautiful for this world
Too beautiful for my words
But I am helpless
To do anything
But humbly speak them softly

...

Heaven has no Eden
And hell has no flame
Without flowers singing
Or fires dancing
For your name
And my body here
And my heart and spirit
There with you
And I would strech
My soul across
The sun and moon and universe
Just for a wink
Of time
To whisper once again

...

I carved in tree beneath the sea
Where house  
And you did hide
In its branch and leaves
Where sun did dream
Of sleep and mermaids
With fairy wings
Where I first found
Your heart and dark
And truth and ache
And voice and tears
And endless eyes
Of sea of raging blue
And blinding light
Of the lunacy and love
When these words
Where first trapped
Within my throat
Before I dare speak

...

Waiting beneath
These waters deep
Drowning in both
Dream and love
Waiting by star
And moon
And bird
And tree
And poem
And song
And hope
And pictures
And haunting
And longing
To come to you
And speak
With gut churning
And heart burning
These words for you

...

Your every breath
Your every smile
Your every tear
All flow with the blood
And truth of poetry
Your picture
Still hangs above my heart
And every night
Your voice still
Sings your poetry
Before I fall to slumber
Beneath your Vincent stars
And dark blue
And in my sleep
I speak

...

In helpless state
Of repose and trance
I watch words with wings
Chase and dance
My heart that has fallen
To your hypnotic gaze
And sultry voice
The sandman has
No power here
All I can do is paint
With the hands
Of delirium
And trace these words
From star to moon
To heart of flame

...

Under depths
And darkness
My dreams do bind
My soul and heart
To this endless
Storm beneath
The sheets of
Endless time of
Forevers night
Where I am tied
To eternal midnight
Of love and dream
And my footsteps taken
Have left these words
Written in the dust
On the moon

...

To never have to wake
Or take a breath
Outside this
Pleasant dreaming
Let me sleep
Here in this longing
All day long
In eternities twilight
With hand outstretched
Waiting for your fingertips
To slide along my palm
Hand in hand
And give my heart
To you
To forever keep
And dance under sheets
And song of flame
Where to your ear
I slip these words

...

In the devils heart
A song echos of long ago
Before shame or sin
Where your heart
Was bloomed
Long before the gardens
And dreams of Eden
My heart fills with
Only bliss as I listen
To this lullaby
And I am forever
Caught by the desire
Of wanting your affection
I cannot force my heart
To stop beating
Anymore than I can
Stop these words
From repeating

...

I wake with your
Dream and kiss
Still lingering
On my heart and lips
My empty bed
Still warmed by
Your faded ghost
Your voice still
Haunting the morning air
The pulse and beat
Of my soul
And marrow
Repeating
To the dawns first light

...

From countless moons away
Where my heart has flown
To be with you
My chest still full
From dreams of you
And from across
The ocean I hear
My heart sing
These words to you

...

These mad visions
Follow me throughout
My waking hours
And keep my heart
In rapid steps
Of lunatics dancing
As my soul
Cannot stop itself
From laughing
In the truth
Of happiness
I have found
In writting
And whispering
And shouting
These words again

...

As I burn along
In step
With suns
Heart and breath
Your Vincent blues
Mesmerize my heart
With their magic
Swirling stars
And never
Never
Could I stop
Not even after
Death
My song for you
cannot end
You'll find
At the end
Of time
And space
Through the black
And void
My voice still
Resonates
With these words

...

As I fall to death
And to slumber
Dreams wait
Beneath my flesh
And within my bones
Where your light and warmth
Touch my heart and soul
And in the pulse
Of my every fiber
And throughout my being
These words reverberate

...

Pillows take form
And feel of clouds
And welcome moon
And stars
Before my closing eyes
Your ghost begins
Its dance
My hands strech out
To dream
And with the last
Days breath
My lips let whisper soar

...

Sleeping on these clouds
And pillows
My heart dreams
And weeps
Painting with everything
Beautiful about you
Colors echoing
Of secret shades
Of every hue of red
And sculpting
The clouds and pillows
To form these words

...

My heart rocks and
Sings sweet lullaby
Of everything
Perfectly you
And I drift through dream
And listen to
The whispers
Of pillow and cloud
As the softly say

...

Everyday I am
A little deeper
As I fall a little more
And more
And more in love
Never before has such
A blessing been bestowed
Upon my heart
Than being in love
With you
My hands
Still tremble to write
And my heart
Still fears to beat
And the words still
Send shudders
Through the pulse
And blood
Within my soul
Everday and
Every moment
And I am helpless
And I am hopeless
And thankful
For one more
Chance to say

...

I have discoverd
Through ink
And parchment
Paint and canvass
Paper and poem
Pillow and cloud
The miracle of you
Nothing quite as
Lovely or equisite
Beautiful and true
As your hearts warmth
And souls light
As the endless oceans
And Vincent blues
And madness
Swirling in the magic
Of the starry night
Of your eyes
Beyond sands of hour
And hands of time
I will paint
With my every breath
These words
Again and
Again

...

With the
Miracle of paper
And parchment
And stone
Think of all the things
We would not know
If ink and paint and blood
Had not stained vellum
And canvas
And skin
History and fantasy
And love lost
And found
The poems and plays
And battles
Of nations triumphant
And ruined
Lords and their Ladies
Beggars and theives
The bard
And the Muse
All hidden and stored
In shoeboxes
Stuffed with envelopes
Of confessions
And truth
Bounded by hand and stich
Between hard leather covers
Countless pages
That have survived
The relentless sands
Of time
And foul weather
And flood
Long after our flesh
Has rotted and feed the worm
And our bones have
Dissipated to earth and gust
Paper will still
Hold the secrets
And history
Of love
The miracle of paper
Stained by the pen
moved to dance
In my hand
As I scrawl your name
And confess

*I Love You
I started an art project a little over a month ago and knew it would eat up most of my free time, I didn't picture having much if any time to write... so before I started I wrote this out in one sitting and cut it into 36 segments to post one a day... the project is still in works and will most likely take another month or two... but working on it has to this point only helped it writing more instead of less... blah blah blah mmmyep
Breeze-Mist Jun 2017
On hot summer days that strech ouy like this
Bird and bug song harmonized in the air
Cool water splashing with the sound of kids
Hearts start to be wild and do as wished
Leafed breezes blow away all hardened care
Creatures come from the dens in which they hid
As stars draw in like a smooth panther fur
And future folds out, bright and unsure
Music calls out in the dead of night
As all come out to camp, dance, chat, and play
We try our bravado and our own fright
As summer nights flow into the dog days
Jason Leimer Dec 2010
The hills over this rocky strech of road are greener,
that contain the things I want in life.
Success, a happy family, you name it.
I am wanting greener pastures. But it is going to take some time like a press conference for Obama
announcing his latest economic plan. Yes the greener pastures are coming its just tough right now to wait for it.
ZL Jun 2014
I have so much to offer
inside of this prison
called a soul
how to get it out
is the mystery
I pry to know.

My angels
and demons
pull and strech
this skin,
their best efforts
to free me from within.

Sadly, the never win
they always lose
I choose to be free
but the power is not mine
it has never belonged to me.
Bailey B Apr 2010
When I was five
the most magnificent pastime
was imagining what it would be like
when you swept me off my feet
wearing a long peach gown
(because that was my favorite color
at the time)
and you would set me on
your tall white stallion
and sing me a song
about some enchanted evening
the woodland creatures would sing
with you
wrap your cloak around my shoulders
and we would ride like Snow White
to Ever Ever, After.

When I was twelve
the most exhilirating fantasy
was dreaming what it would be like
when you rolled up
in your strech Hummer
pressing your palm on the
small of my olive green dress back
(because I know what goes with my hair
this time)
and folded your fingers around my wrist
the paparazzi's going mad
gasps and lightning strikes
to our retreating frames
as I turn and wink one last time
and we ride off into the distance
to Broadway and Main.

Now that I'm older
I realize that I'll probably meet you
in the most unexpected of places
a bookstore
a library
when I'm pretending
to read Hemingway
you'll off-handedly tell me
that you like his work
I'll confess that I really don't get it
you'll grin and I'll smile
sheepishly
you'll rest your hand on the
table in front of us
and I'll be wearing
my glasses and a jacket
(because I don't care
what goes with my hair
this time)
and I'll realize that you probably
don't own a white stallion
nor a stretch Hummer
and you probably aren't famous
nor will you sing me some sappy song
about enchanted evenings
and that it'd be really freaky
if the chipmunks sang with you
but I'll nod anyway
and we'll ride off into the distance
of Starbucks.
Alexis karpouzos Apr 2021
Listen,
if stars are still lit it means there is someone who needs them.
It means someone wants to love,
Why then do we feel so much pain and heaviness of heart?
are we waiting for something, regretting anything?
To whom I can strech out my hand in the somber desert?
Who will accompany me on the empty night?
Who will give me a fiery day?
Who will bring back the sea that left?
No hope here. Torment is certain.
Without sacredness in the emptiness of this world of ours,
the heart of man fades like a flower.  
Suddenly, the shuddering of the heavens penetrating my soul,
Oh never let the parting sun, no star is ever lost we once have seen, the long rains will continue to fall.
Sirenes Mar 2015
As I sit upon this great stone
I take in the majestic view
It is not a view on the mountaintop
But much smaller indeed
Quiet and humble in it's existance
It's merely a view seen from this rock
That's stood here since the Ice Age
Slowly melting under the elements
But majestic nevertheless
I wonder and speculate in silence

Would this very rock
That looks so large in my eyes
Once have been
But a small pebble under the Ice
Before all these countless trees grew here
I close my eyes and picture
This forest without all its treasures
Then build it up slowly again
In the depths of my limited mind

These trees so tall and evergreen
Produce gasses and chemicals
And as they spit out their oxygen
Tirelessly in vast amounts
As the sun gazes upon them
The air becomes purer
So pure in fact
That a strange grey-greenish beard
Celebrates it's existance
On the barks of these giants

The countless lakes mirror their surroundings
As the drowsy sun paints them orange
Laying itself to sleep beyond the horizon
And as the sea has its own scent
So do these lakes
They leave an indescribable scent
On the skin of the human bathing in it
Leaving her hear soft and lush

The last rays of the sun
Force their way through openings
In the ceiling of this forest
Creating lightbeams
Seemingly rising from the forest floor
Absolute silence aside from my slowly beating heart
I strech my weary wings
Straighten my feathers
Close my eyes forever
And acknowledge that my time is up at last
midnight prague Dec 2010
I have reached that fatal point
in where I associate consequence with defeat and happiness

I have reached that fatal point
in where I associate warmth in spaces between your arms
and your fingers

I have reached a point so fatal that it has made me
feel
more alive

in between your curiosity I hide
I imagine myself in so many different places with you
and sit and just let my thoughts trail

I know you in a sense of understanding
and how subtle that is
I wouldnt believe it if I really knew you
saw your light in your darkest places
and saw the dimness in your vast brightness
saw your spine from the inside out
and felt your chest upon mine

I have tasted the poisin in your cheeks
but I have yet to hear your heart beat upon my ear

I have a notion brief yet so strong
of what your are capable of doing to me
that if you were to show me to places within your
hidden places
I might lean back and scream
what it is
what it is
to feel such a powerful thing

when I thought beauty couldnt strech her hand any
further
I saw what was behind your fingerprints
what was behind everything that was physcial
what was behind everything that was spiritual
something that went deeper

I see you
and then I see time
and then I see a mixture of colors
a blurr

this permanent handwriting on my walls
marked with touch by your words
has edged itself along the small of my thoughts
and I am devoured
depleted by you


To think that your sense was staggered
puts my thoughts to sleep
and I cant understand
how you thought I didnt feel the same

I walk backwards to how I hid so discreetly from you
if only you knew I feared you
and feared myself
feared how the colors might mix
feared how the pain might ravage us and lay
our hearts to waste
under the gravel of such beautiful little things


now I move
and where to exactly I cant press my tongue against that
but we move timidly towards each other
Gary W Weasel Jr Feb 2010
Alas, there he stands
Far above ocean sands,
The eyes close and ears have opened
To the world of sound around him.

Far could the eye strech out
Across the ocean in the sun's route,
No land can be found upon the horizon
Except the rock below his bare feet.

Each and every cresant wave,
Break above what he sets to brave
And covers its depths in uncertainty
To force the truth to be unknown.

And high above these waves below
Off an end of the ocean plateau
He leans and lisens with eyes closed
To the crashing of the waves underneath.

The birds echo through the sky
And do echo the waves' war cry
For he stands unclothed and silent
Preparing for a dive of faith.

The springs of his ankles unload,
And in hair and ears the winds blowed
His linked hands and fingers led the way,
And his closed eyes trusted the future.

Faster, more does his speed quicken
The mist of the waves does thicken
And louder the wind whistles, the waves crash
Although no drops of fear pour from his soul.

Plumitting to the depths at last,
Into the waves comes a decisive crash,
And now the test has arrived at his hands,
To dive deep for devils and their secrets.

Written: July 3, 2006 @ 11:35 PM CDT
Virginia Kasmi Jul 2017
Am
It's midnight and I hit the pause button,
Strech,
move slowly to the window.
Pull out a cigarette of my yellow box and light it up.
Fresh air touches my half naked body,
Tense skin, cherry-red *******.

It's almost 1am so I take my medicine,
White pill, blue pill, orange one, 25 drops
Bitter lips, thirsty mouth.
Lights turn off and I get  between soft, silk  sheets.

Heavy breathing, salty skin.
It's 02:07 as i scream for help,
Silent whispers of confusion as I realize it isn't real.
It's 02:40 I've got fire in my belly and ice in my chest.
Olive-green emptiness in my ****** eyes,
Close them tight
As I pour and shatter.
Saint Audrey Jun 2017
Will of the world
Freedom for all
God given right. To ****. Them all.

Now we go

It's time to fall
Right out of line
It's time to go

We go

Round and round on the circle
Live by and die
For what
This force
Drives home

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
Music box ticks out a song

Then stops

Wind it back up
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Just like
The lamb
I came
Blind and mute to the slaughter
The same

The same way

As it goes

It's just the same
There is

No longer hope

Round and round on the circle
We live and die
For what
This force
Drives home

Pouring my
Iron down into the mold
It glows
Across my face
My hands
They quake
And as it sets
I can start to see

My
Face

Round and round on the circle
I watch them go
Living to die
By the hand
Of a force
Bringing them home

And it's not much of
A strech
Ive come to second guess

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
The music box shatters

Deep inside me something feels chains crawling all along its back.
A bit of a song I wrote a while back
Sydney Victoria Feb 2013
Lavenders Awake,
Marigolds Strech Their New Leaves,
The Withered Rose Grins
SRS Sep 2014
My King

another minute away
I don't think I can stand
another moment, another day
all the emotions from missing you
will pile up and drown me away
You are everything to me
I just need you to see
I need you to come to me
my arms are open

I am lost
and I am home sick
you are my heart
and I can't breath
I am in a cage
and your the key
baby won't you come rescue me?
and never part from me again?
just like you said?

my love can strech miles to reach you
but the absence of your touch remains
and even though everyday I know your mine
I need your arms to keep me warm
I need you right here by my side <3

Your Angel
Dondaycee May 2018
(Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmm, hmmm hmmm hmmm hm)
I’m looking at paradox and choice, like
“What is choice when you voice light?”, like
If I am consciousness and I’m living unconscious it seems as though it’s inevitable to feel destroyed right?
How can I operate this body and mind if I’m blind,
If I’m missing the menu? Seriously, how can you expect me to identify a sign in life?
I’m stuck in insanity, I’m doing the same **** over and over again,
Expecting different results, I’m Donkey on a coaster with friends,
Light says be calm, ego says we on, people say leave mom,
Pause, mom is a reference towards the feminine energy, it creates, the masculine manifest,
I’m talking omni, god, light, androgynous life;
This is something you can’t transgress because it doesn’t exist but do transgress, because it’s something Man possess,
Man as in mankind, which is both male and female,
BECAUSE YIN AND YANG IS A UNIVERSAL LAW!!!,
Logic; being left brain idea; which means form, is why we believe in hell and punish ourselves, and why we hinder our “self” before we evolve,
Amigo told me have a “vision”, Padre dismissed me like the path was missing, ***** I’m tiptoeing, doing everything in my power; avoiding rash decisions,
And I recently just found out my path was missing because my half was splitting, that’s everything look…
I’mm juust trynna finnd myy “self”...
I understand that it’s destiny to experience this life,
The difficulty in I committing and finding a wife,
9 times out of 10 I see I before U,
Ask yourself: “Did I see I 9 times out of 10 because my focus was on locating the letter I 9 times before U?”
That’s crazy huh? Welcome to Mind,
Understand, this is because of the English language,
We have no linguistic forms which is why it’s difficult to decrypt the ancient,
They’re us, we documented this information in everything, you name it,
Of course through ignorance, which is the cause to the effect of us learning about the stories that were fabricated and famous;
IT’S THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!!!
It requires that verbs and action words be associated with nouns,
Because of this, there’s NO LINGUISTIC FORM to figure **** out,
We’re talking aboriginal, the beginning where archetypal concepts were pure,
This is why imaginations important, if you haven’t yet, please read my poem Einstein’s Recipe, because imagination is the cure; treat insanity, look,
All I’m saying is, use the muscle in your right brain,
Because these forms/ideas cannot be perceived by the senses,
Only pure reason alone,
If you want to discover home; yourself, and elsewhere you must relieve yourself from senses,
That means, let go of the material world, what has manifested to vision,
Turn your attention towards your inner eye to create a vision,
And understand thought and its position,
How it's the quantum world; creation, before decision,
The best description; it happens before you’re even aware it, listen,
That means you are experiencing reality from a different vision,
BECAUSE YOU ALREADY MADE A CHOICE BEFORE YOU WERE AWARE OF IT,
“Awareness” is what’s missin,
With it, we’re able to access our genius and learn how to  navigate reality,
At that point we’d conquer mortality,
It’s both religion and spirituality, a neutrality,
Theoretically speaking this would lead to physical, mental, and emotional totality,
Reincarnation isn’t a belief, it is law; and these universal  laws express modality,
We are the seeds of vitality,
Wake up, wake up, wake up, because the "sleep" you is killing me, killing us, killing everything man Imm juust saaying I neeed help…
I feel uncomfortable, talking about a being I never met,
Because I believe we would’ve married if she never left,
And it pained me when she came in dream,
Because this was a reality,
one that's not commonly seen to respect,
one that society deem as a strech to accept,
Yet, still, what I felt was very real,
This experience varied feel and real because this was a sense of knowing,
A sense I couldn’t detect,
I guess what I’m saying is that there’s no such thing as death,
Well, at least in my reality because I met her in a different way and feel equally blessed,
Trying to possess the ability to confess, to simply contest the I in invest,
Lady, save me,
Ii waant you annd noo onee else…
Imm juust saaying I neeed help…
I’mm juust trynna finnd myy “self”...
(Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmm, hmmm hmmm hmmm hm)
Akira Chinen Jul 2016
Pillows take form
And feel of clouds
And welcome moon
And stars
Before my closing eyes
Your ghost begins
Its dance
My hands strech out
To dream
And with the last
Dying breath of day
My lips let whisper soar
*I Love You
grumpy thumb Aug 2017
A willowy passage greeted us
threading a trail through a light wood
high with pine and robust elm trunks.
Frens curled and licked
ankles and shins
leaving damp sheen on boots
carefully avoiding sprawling roots  
there as reminders
nature can reclaim the trail
if and when it chooses.
Husks of beach nuts
dark open stars long pilfered of their bounty
littered a strech of eight paces.
She pointed to movement in the undergrowth,
a flick of leaves and scurry of a squirrel.
Taking my hand for balance and warmth
I lead her through the silence
fearing to breathe in case a breath spoiled the tranquility
Courtney Gaura Jun 2016
Kp why oh why me
Haven't I had enough ?
Misunderstood in laguage
Stutter much?
Only last year could I look others in the eyes
But not so much with age
Making excuses and lies
It lies on my skin
Like you
Ridged and red it had been
I like my friends I do
But it's not like they'll ever ask again
The wounds too deep
Too visible
Crawling across my skin
Help is often oh so reliable
If only I knew where to begin
Peal it back and the brighter it gets
The harder it is the defend
Against these thoughts it fits
That my insecurities are so ever viable
When they strech across me
Kp why oh why me
Akira Chinen Jun 2016
Heaven has no Eden
And hell has no flame
Without flowers singing
Or fires dancing
For your name
And my body here
And my heart and spirit
There with you
And I would strech
My soul across
The sun and moon and universe
Just for a wink
Of time
To whisper once again
*I Love You
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
what's commonly referred to by the acronym f.g.m. -
i.e. female genital mutilation -
           it's hard to see the same definition being applied
to males. why?
                   the former is a much more ancient practice
than the latter - and for that matter, if working out why
the latter is practised so fervently, and without a single
regret, is perhaps because the former is misunderstood.
the misunderstanding enters the dimension of
the book of genesis. why?
by a simple quote: and your women will give birth in
agony, and your men will strive in vain.
          now, that really is peculiar.
                   you snip off the ******* of a phallus,
what do you get? an increased pleasure for men during
*******, since there is no obstruction of "excess" skin
to obstruct the ******* encounter with the *******;
but that also means that men become cocky as **** -
a bit like seeing a streaker at a football match,
who's oozing a:    oh look at me! oh look at me!
                       it's the garden of eden, all over again!
now, this whole female gential "mutilation"?
i once read an article in a newspaper that cited an egyptian
politician stress, that egyptian men have a low libido,
a low *** drive, just as asians have a low alcohol tolerance.
(a) i think that's a quasi argument, given that islam
     introduced male gential "mutilation" to the egyptian
society, as a rule of thumb...
but more importantly
    (b) and this refers back to what moses could have
appreciated in his day... why cut off "excess" skin of
a woman's genitals?
      how about that quote, once more?
and your women will give birth in agony.
           well... before the romans invented the c-section,
i.e. a caesarean way of giving birth, what, what could
have possibly done... to ease a woman's burden of childbirth?
if a man can have more pleasure from ***,
by having his "excess" skin cut off...
    could this: female genital "mutilation" have the same
effect in childbirth?
            i'm just wondering, because the arguments i hear
against this practice, which is, well ****** ancient
is given by women who either haven't had it done to them,
or who have, but haven't given birth to child.
         personally? i believe         f.g.m = caesarean;
the only problem comes, when, well you have the two
paired up, i.e. male circumcision and female circumsion,
i think that's a terrible move.
comparison... you know how a ******* puts a ******
onto your *****? she gets a ******, sticks it in her
mouth and slowly puts it on, while doing *******.
   now try imagining a non-circumcised ancient egyptian
working a woman's ****** that has been circumcised -
well, would you look at that, the ****** thing is so tight,
that it pulls back the skin on the phallus right off -
so why would you need to circumcise, if the circumcised
****** pulls back the *******?
     but these are ancient times, god knows if this is accurate,
but i really do wonder if f.g.m. was the precursor to
the roman practice, of alleviate a woman's suffering
during childbirth... after all: less skin to strech, right?
    less skin to stretch, less pain, a pin-hole, and the pressure
building up... pop! or ****! and it just drops out
like out of a deer's ***; but if you have so much skin,
it streches and streches and streches... that's blood on the bedsheets
hanged on a washing line.
Alice Darling Jun 2015
I think all I have to do is strech out my hand you will grab it and never let it go.
I think all I have to do call out your name and you will hear me no matter the distance and land between us.
I think you will always know where to find me, it's a place where only we know.
I think if I gave you my heart, it never stop beating with yours.
Don't worry though.
I'm pretty sure it's all in my head.
Akira Chinen Jun 2016
It was one of those bad days that followed me as my heavy weary eyes fell to slumber.  Soon nightmares had wrapped their blanket of fear and doubts around my heart and lungs.  My bed turned to a turbulent  ocean soaked with tears and silent screams echoing in the lighting streaking between thunderous clouds.  I tried to scream back but only silence slithered and slid out of my throat.  My sweat collected into thick crimson red puddles and claws reached out and strapped me down farther into the darkness.  I knew it was a nightmare but everything was eating away at my senses and no amount of struggle could wake me.  Arguments and memories haunting me and dragging away the joy in my heart.  My eyes held open as I was forced to watch another dream die as this nightmare unfolded its dark corners.  
I would have started crying but I had died with the dream... turned into a ghost to wander aimlessly through its death.

My eyes creaked open but my mind was still lost in the nightmare.  My heart beat slow and cold in my chest and pulsed a living numb through my bones and marrow.  I had no urge to get out from under the blanket the nightmares had tangled me in.  All I wanted to do was let the misery wash over me and drown me... I couldn't even start crying, I just didn't have the will to do anything.  I layed there in dark, staring off towards the void... just wanting to be swallowed out of existence.

I start to move subconsciously as my hand reaches blindly for my phone and my fingers strech out across its surface.  I'm not aware of what is happening... and then your picture appears in front of my dreary eyes and the words just fall out in a hushed whisper... "i love you.. "
In an instant, the blanket disappears and warmth resurges within my heart.  The dream resurrects itself and puts the nightmare in the noose.  I press my lips to your picture and repeat the words again... "I love you"
Somedays thats the only thing that can get me through another day
https://soundcloud.com/jason-hughes-240320794/bad-day
salty dad Jan 2019
i’ll strech the seconds
and make every moment with you count
i love you
vinca Jul 2018
Not too far
If I stand up on tiptoes
And strech my arms out
I can feel it at my fingertips
Like fireworks
Or shooting stars
No, it is emptiness
Do
I
Really
Feel?
Who made me "me"?
Could "I" ever be someone else?
Do I really feel?
No, not at all.
It's only emptiness
Not fireworks, not shooting stars
They are high above
And I roll in a pit
Covered with mud
If I even dare to look above...
It's only a dream
Do
I
Really
Feel?
Vic Oct 2019
[20/10/19: 20:04] Me: okay so I'm kind of proud of myself. I just showered normally, and shaved without having the urge to self-harm. Like, I held the razor blade against my wrist and I could just say "I don't want this anymore." So I'm kinda happy. There are still strech marks and scars on my underarm, but they're fading, and in a few weeks/months they're going to be (almost) completely gone :) You probably don't care that much and I text you too much stuff, but I thought this might make you a little happy.
A poem every day.
15-10-19
aldo kraas Sep 2023
Gente fina
Are not my friend
Father
Nun of my friends
Are gente fina
Because they are alsp
Extremely rich
And they have lots
Of rich friends
They don’t like any people
That are poor to be
There friends
Also gente fina
Are the slave of money
Because they work too much
And they make lots of money
Working 48 hours per week
Thanks God we are poor
And also happy
Because we live with a small
Amount of money
Every month
And we need also to make
A monthly budget with our money
We try very hard to strech our money
When we shop for used clothes
From a second hand store
We love very much our poor
Friends
And they are very rich in spirit also
And also my friends are rich in spirit
But when it comes to money
They are poor like me
Noura Dec 2019
its warm, the softest haze
and i find myself thinking
this isnt how its supposed to be
i'm to be on an empty dock
at dawn
wet wind slapping me in the face
just as the truth sets in
that all things must come to an end
and it is the most magnificent things
that never stay
and i would watch you sail away
and i wouldn't cry
because i've been told to save my tears
never let good suffering go to waste
dip my feather in velvet tears for when long nights strech and my paper is as empty as my chest

but

here i am
its comfortably warm and the sun embraces all of our flesh
as if i am its most beloved green
and it so unfair
for the world to turn its back on me
how am i to be miserable
with so much peace surrounding me?
i will find my dock
i will find a way to make use of this
my tears mean something
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
i could write about... how i "trapped" a cat in
my bedroom...
kept the window open... and two mosquitos flew
in...
i would be a sadist... if i had a mythical
tarantula scuttling around the room...
but two mosquitos and a cat...
                that's just a tease...
                  it's not like i once fed two rainbow
trout eyes to this... no... the other cat...
or how i pinched a mosquito by the leg...
and... this... no... the other cat...
gladly gobbled it down...
            after all... i once looked at a spider
scuttle to a freshly painted surface and...
i guess he started drinking it...
          in an absence of retelling the story
of the 1960s and all the drugs...
the catholic school curriculum sentenced us...
to the remote part of the decaying
soviet empire - somewhere in ukraine -
we were warned about... sniffing glue...
and aerosol abuse...
             no mention of l.s.d. or: the rest
of the rainbow...
        but this is not part of the experiment...
i had a while sitting watching the moon...
yesterday's fullness and quicksilver flooding
the stones, the lipid of leaves...
        the metals... all that was missing...
frost... to elevate the quicksilver into
a red carbet walkdown... with that...
very familiar... paparazzi epileptic "flashing"
as the head twould tilt from one aspect
to the next... as the light contorted...

yes yes... the experiment...
to write! to write! what people want!
it's going to be hard...
i guess i'd do it... if i was paid...
  but i'll try... read up some pop pieces and
see if i can fake it, sly fox moi:
stealth myself beneath the gaydar...
and frown at myself... stand stark naked...
this masquerade is but a drop in the already
available ocean of masquerades...
i even thought about dressing up
for halloween for next year...
         me: april 2020...
                     lucky for me i have a face-mask
that doesn't details anything surgical
about it... more like... scorpion / sub-zero
from mortal kombat...
    problem: this beard doesn't help...
i can hijack two bottles of jim beam...
but...                     rat rat rat tat tat...
tic tac toe in a maze of: death's yawn...
             last chance trap: write what people want...
what's easily a digestive biscuit...
no fibre no grit...
                 hell... no point disguising my soon
to be disclosed efforts:
to write what people might like...

       under a pseudonym: anonymous?
generic stuff... but the quest to spot the generic
from the sly authentic...
will prove much harder...

for all the purveyors and connoisseur...
well... not much of the latter
concerning "low view count"...
who is playing this numbers game...
well... those who cite weight loss
via stones and pounds...
if you go down the metric route...
kilograms...
once upon a time... remarkable...
from 101kg down to 78kg...
and no strech-marks...
because... the bicycle because the bicycle...
and some swimming...
toning: exercise but more
the desire to gamble with traffic...
and the wind in your face...

    nothing as suffocating as a gym...
low life - *******... views? 945...
     that's... well... kingdom of the *****...
the kingdom of the crustaceans...
anything in the 100,000 view count is probably
atlantis: humanoid fish replicas
of both fish and man... mermaid and that
meme: top of a fish bottom of a woman...
versus: the obvious choice...

to write: what people want...
harlequin novels?
                    heavy on the rhyme...
rhyme like... kicking a ball against a wall...
superstious amalgamations of echo...
crisp bite into deep-fried stuff...
chewing like an attempt to find imitations
in sawing through wood...
not the sort of incision we'd be looking
for... more like a mutilation of wretched
muscle, bone and sinew...
by hyenas woken from slumber
by a wake of vultures...

   vultures in a group: is a kettle (when in flight)
                                    is a committee (when perched)
                                  is a wake (when feeding)...
perhaps i'm thinking about stealing
the eagle from the romans...
and the crow from the germans...
perhaps... just because... these caron barons
of the bald patch...
   leather monuments of skin's flagelation
                      their crown...
that sort of birth: i have in sight...

but no... it's not exactly a haiku...
it's... an astouding breath of sawdust air...
something to be sniffed when the dust doesn't
settle in the quarry from when
hammer meets the ***** of the incubating
earth of stone...
sand: add pressure... have rock...
ad more pressure: have ore of metal...
consecrate the bones...
             place them inconveniently into
envelopes of addressed: aeons...

but to write what people want... "like"...
i'd have to sift through...
stomach... the commets...
it's so discouraging to entertain these...
bothersome flies...
bought a book... pretended to scribble
on the back of the cover...
the author was nowhere to be seen...
or heard from...

               comments likes: metaphors! beautiful!
thank you!
  blah blah to no end of an etc.
i guess: no point writing anything that...
doesn't escape into the realm of thought...
i try to conjure up something in writing that
would make someone write a comment...
             i like an audience that knows it deserves more
than to pander me...
and i need of it... stitched up lips...
   since all of this: for gratis...
                        no browny points to create
echo chambers and niches...
of the "protected" penship...

  that doesn't imply that i don't want to write
an imitation poem...
without obvious plagiarism...
i just need to find that most melodramatic me...
the cheapest version of me...
i have to imagine myself *******...
what i'll be ******* i'm not exactly sure...
it won't be the words...
the rhymes...
           lack of! god, please! a lack of!
less rhyme more chance to spot beauty
elsewhere... an ****** festival of flowers
with near perfect geometrical replicas...

          is it possible that i care much more
for the anonymity of the reader?
am i like a guilty pleasure...
watching some 1970s italian *******...
eating a bagel with either:
    (a) smoked salmon, cucumber, mayo...
   dill... and that all important rainbow trout caviar?
or be (b) being sloppy... but still the caviar...
and the bagel... and instead:
some tuna and sweetcorn and mayo?

perhaps (c)... jack johnson was the best kept
secret... until he was given things beyond his audience...
and... no jack johnson after he was compared
to be the next bob dylan...
i'm sorry... how was that ever going to happen?
you'd have to like bob dylan in the first place...
and that's not easy...
you'd have to start liking him...
like i did... on an overnight train from
st. petersburg to moscow... to see metallica
play there for the very first time after...
rioting... famously... when: and justice for all...
harvester of sorrow...
and the crowd went mental...
                                       the rest is: history...

if all it took was a car to road-rage across
h'america... it truly requires a train to...
                                            get a thrill for russia...
other places require you walking:
holland...
            since everyone else is cycling to beijing...
and other place require you to cycle... poland...
england... france... i guess germany...
well... plucking one of your eyes out...
and asking a crow to safeguard your soul...
while you would be able to attach a little
camera to its body... that sort of *******...

is caviar a luxury?
          a concentrated fish-oil in a capsule...
it's hardly a chicken egg "luxury"...
nor quiet the abortion...
replicas? those vitamin d capsules...
fish-oil... luxury? depends on whether you enjoy
it... pompous foodstuff:
no need to call the: healthy body = healthy mind
brigade... no slightly pickled brain...
then no inquisitive palette...
i rank baltic herrings among them...
raw... baltic sushi... in a creamy sauce...
or a steak tartar(e)... with... all the trimmings...
the raw yoke... the raw: onion...
gherkins, capers, etc etc.

                    some people... just frown at the idea
of caviar... not to mention blue cheese
and oysters...
   and to think... oysters where the grub
of "gammon" in Dickensian times...
   since then... even gammon was morphed...
"back in the day" it wasn't a racial slur
as much as it was actually more:
******* and... swindler... con-artist ref....
the pickwick papers blah blah... blah...
            only now... oysters... wow! a... luxury!
only if you enjoy eating them...
otherwise? overpriced dogshit...

        i'll concede this point... the version of
existentialism in english... what was started by
the danes and the germans and the russians...
later implemented by the fwench...
english existentialism?
stastistics... psychology... and this...
world of darwin... and the atlas?
blind samson holding yet pulling the pillars
down...
this is anglophonic existentialism...
no gravitation toward: ontology on the grounds
of temporal affairs...
no gravitation toward: ontology on
the grounds of spatial affairs -
  english existentialism: oi! pass the torch, mate!
n'ah mate... we're sending this torch
back in time... to tribal invaders
and our hyper-sensitive exoskeleton
"souls" of hybrid -
the body is both a host and the parasite...
lest we forget the psychiatric evaluation
surgery of the holy trinity of freud...

or far further... krafft von ebbig:
******* was cynical back when
******* was a taboo and ****** for crucifixes:
looks like being aborted was:
rainbow-tinged: as was: this time soon...
why do i like wearing "p.p.e." equipment
akin to face-masks?
finally! i can compete with the islamic
attire of the niqab!
i can finally: bark cat! i can finally:
meow dog! - with less restrictions for
the eyes... ninja brigade: scorpio vs. sub-zero...
it really is the new normal...
now i can think about all the lost
****** recognition technology:
while i pillage... **** and assume:
laughter the new paracetmol...

slaughterhouse gown: a slithering tongue
of a chewed of proposal...
                 nothing like caging time in
bedroom antics of a cult personna of a german
lutheran... who wasn't...
that catholic ***** and a sobering up after
a prince albert antic...
                       gullotine for the slug of: fore!
i says: skinz...
                      skinz and skalpz...
alt.: skinß und skalpß...
                                         otherwise known as:
a steady diet of influenza and toss-***...
back in poland come the fall of
the iron wall...
a tight-knit commuity...
one of us was infected with ospa (smallpox)...
we were exposed to the infected...
and czerwonka (červonka)
                          dysentery...
i missed the measles... (odra)...
                     my immune system was not
exposed to it...
              i guess i'm living in times when...
bubblewrapping works...
                     prime-time "eugenics" of the post-soviet
empire... expose them to... the golden standard...
and if they survive...
god... an ear infection is about as much
of a trivial-***** pain as a toothache...

poland in the 1990s... like mongolia in the 1200s
or whenever those people were given
the scurge of wrath loose buckle of the belt...
that was then... this is nowhere new to now...
happens... when people read
two books like dogma...
1984 fetish and all those televangelist...
no new rats: no room left in the maze...

                 karen oi oi smithy loiters...
scraps the details of her meme haircut...
starts to bleach her *****...
          etc. etc.         and more etc.
                           well... so much for this... supposed...
would be experiment in: "sowering the grapes"...
hardly... where is the wrath and the horse...
required for the plough?!
Abeer Oct 2023
Somedays, we are empty and open
To the strech of our paper veins

              We lay here, good as dead and cold
               Till we precipitate a foreseeable
               Anomaly, coming this way

I remember every word,
spoken like a ghost
Hawking my brightness
with mystique or just paranoia
Of not giving in

                But remember again the full
                extent
                Tears are feeling to come, as I
                wrench some

Feeling of abstinence, vocal chords stretched to a merciless extend,
just in my head

                 Your open wounds dressed so
                 pretty, almost made me forgive
                 you

          And forget how large forever is
aldo kraas Aug 2023
Gente fina
Are not my friend
Father
Nun of my friends
Are gente fina
Because they are also
Extremely rich
And they have lots
Of rich friends
They don’t like any people
That are poor to be
There friends
Also gente fina
Are the slave of money
Because they work too much
And they make lots of money
Working 48 hours per week
Thanks God we are poor
And also happy
Because we live with a small
Amount of money
Every month
And we need also to make
A monthly budget with our money
We try very hard to strech our money
When we shop for used clothes
From a second hand store
We love very much our poor
Friends
And they are very rich in spirit also
And also my friends are rich in spirit
But when it comes to money
They are poor like me
Bijoylakshmi Das Jan 2020
THE RECONCILED VAST
(Bijoylakshmi Das, 29th Jan 2020)
Music of the Vast
Is music of your mind,
Listen to it first
In the enlivened morning,
The silence transcending
Unique of its kind!
Bliss of the rapture
Reigns over the breeze,
Awakens the brook
Tells it to rise,
The little ripples reveal a lot  -
Above human levels and their sordid thought;
There float the higher happenings and greater surmise -
Just tarry a little
Merge deep into your Soul,
You will reach Infinity:
Your invisible Goal.
The air you breathe around
Is flavoured with fragance
Of the effulgent Felicity of the Divine Romance ;
The One universal Breath -
Where all is One,.
On the Infinite strech
No one is alone.

Vast is the Ocean,
Vast is the Blue -
The oracular Opulence is His Celesty's hue;
Vast is His Kingdom
Of an ineffable Mirth,
To make life on Earth living worth.
His beatific plenitude rules over the Earth
To ennoble Man in an enlivened Birth.
All that is turmoil
Wants to rise,
With delirium of despair
And its countless lies
Of false hope and promise
Of the nescient birth,
That sleeps in stupor
In an inertial lap.
Only at the surface
Will certainly cease,
The Sphinx of the aeon
Is going to rise,
All that is imperfect,
All that is impure,
All discordant notes
Never chosen by the Immortal Dear.
Grievings of your heart
Do cast aside,
Look within the surrealist Vast
That wants to rise
Out of the doldrums of inconscient sigh
The sleeping Humanity in ignorance high!!!
Look ahead to the invisible Wisdom's flight
With aureate wings and azure light,
To the Land of Immensitude
In Intuition's insight.
Merge deep within,
You are an immortal Whole
You are the shoeless Ocean
And its sandless Shore.
You are its indivisible part -
Of Symphony of the ageless yore.
The One Rhythm
That makes World unite,
Love's enraptured Ecstasy
In an enlightening height,.
The One Glance above
Is Rhapsody recondite.
Takes you far in the ascending flight.
Live deep within
The Godhead dwells in you,
Do live in the World
But let the World not live in you.
All Poetry fails
Before the One Sublime,
Which Nature writes in her unending Rhyme,
The scintillating effulgence
Of Her unsullied Bliss,
The Divine rapture
In Her unseen Kiss -
May enliven you  and
Make you pure in heart,
Then only you become Man
My Dear!
A successful participant -
In the immortal display
Of the Infinity's Act.
(Bijoylakshmi Das, 29th Jan 2020, Puri, 06.00 hours)
KV Srikanth Feb 2021
Two Friends
Out for a Smoke
Share a Cigarette
Sudden desire
Share a Beer

Checked their Wallet
Counted the Notes
Money Suffice
Bike Ride

Liquor store
A little away from home
Ordered the drink
Sat in the bar
Crowded affair
Table had to share
Strangers Across
Felt lost
Finished the Whiskey
Out in a jiffy

Stopped at a Shop
Bought two smokes
Lit them up
Opened a jar
Took a groundnut bar

Shop owner raises voice
Tells the boys
Not to touch the jars
Asks the quantity
Boys jokingly
Repeat the act

About to make payment
One slips on the pavement
Falls on an Old Man
Standing behind
Cigarette in one hand

Sudden Slip
State of Shock
To prevent tumble
The other extends arm

Moving away from Counter
Cash yet to be handed over
Shopkeeper raises Alarm
By standers loose their calm

One down on the man
He screams foul play
Owner screams same play
Hell in store for the boys lay

Eve teasing and Stealing
Accused of crimes
They did not commit
Evidence to contrary
Repercussions out of the ordinary

Charles and William
The Lynch brothers
Started the practice
Alleged offence
Without trial
Rope around neck
Before eventual burial

Lynch Mob
Named after them
Gathering of men and women
Cought in the middle
Nothing but death
Issue considered settled

Two encircled
Without provocation
The shop owner
Grabs  one by the collar
Hard slap on the face
Friend tries to retaliate

Both genders gathered
Man tells tale of woe
Friends at Recieving end
Held by hair
Dragged to corner
Death much Simpler

Man from behind
Swings helmet
Magnitude and direction
Head injury requiring Attention
Back Skull fracture
Pain to endure

Policeman  passing
Stops for questioning
None done
Joins the group
Takes his Stick
Takes a swipe
Repeats in succession
Brain concussion

Gang closes furthur in
Boys dragged from site
Rest wanting piece of Action
Takes the bottles
Goes full throttle
Breaking them on the head
Bleeding profusely
Begging for life
To flee they try

One with Fracture
Other with Concussion
Mayhem and Confusion
All join in
Clenched fist Open fist
Free for all Attack
Every part of body targetted
Verge of fainting
Mob no signs of relenting

Four Guys join hands
Divide in pairs
One holds them
Under the arm
Other swings at the jaw
Knock out punch delivered
In succession
Jaw broken
On the ground

Smelling of liquor
Last need of the hour
Consumption questioned
One says Beer and other Whiskey
Branded liars
For differences Answers

Tie them up
Shouts one
To the nearest pole tied
Baseball styled bats held
Near by sports shop the Sponsor
Ten of them swinging together

Their bike vandalized
Petrol pipe cut with knife
Matches lit
thrown into gas tank
Burst into flames
Nothing left to Claim

Knocking at Deaths Door
Fainted while tied
Heads fall below
Bleeding toe to head
Broken bones and Hair turned red

Noses jammed
Eyes sunk in
Face faced blows
Teeth shattered
Disfigured and Maimed
Left for Dead

Death Penalty
Without enquiry
Human life
Treated with disdain
Query none
Injustice done
Benefit of doubt absent
Lawlessness present
Despicable Mentality
Two lives lost
Along with dignity
In totality

Consciousness regained
Injury Sustained
Both remain
Numb  in body and brain

Dead of the night
Not a soul in sight
Unable to walk
Stripped of their clothes
Gather what's left
Silence more eerie
Than the Violence
Wear the torn
Begin their walk home

Break of Dawn
Knock on the door
Parents agonized
At boys night out
Shocked and Awed
Disfigured faces
Unable to recognize
State of freeze
Shaking from the trauma
Too weak to explain the Drama

Families  resourceful
Hospital bound
Whatever was left
Could be set right

Internal injuries
Explain Savagery
Where to begin
Doctors in quandary

Life not in threat
Quality of life in
Intensive care
Treatment begins

Physical and Psychological
Improvement at hospital
Progress very slow
Every Department in Medicine called for

Surgeries over
Had to work together
Body back in order
Months to fully recover

Psychotherapy and Psychiatry
Next departments in order
Body healing faster
Mind healing slower
Petrified at everything
Sweating without reason
Psychological burden
Too heavy to Carry
Sessions in and out
No breakthrough
Long haul recovery
Stability only priority
Life at standstill
Power of Will
Lacking still

Year Calender
On the wall
Replaced by another
Homeward bound
Safe and Sound

Both of same age
Professional life a break
Sympathy of friends and family
Neighbors with them in entirety

Same time Next year
Normalcy getting near
Venturing out slowly
Facing the demons
Face to face
Routine life regained
A year and more
Spent in Pain
Efforts of the Doctors
None in Vain

Looming large
Loss of Pride
Living in Shame
Mob to blame
Feeling the Same
Time the healer
Better than a Doctor
Unsuccessful with the two
Clock stopped
A year back
Time at a Standstill
Strongest memory pill

At home Sulking
At the Ceiling Staring
Never a smile and Brooding
Fun of life taken out
Seldom venture out
Intensity of Incident
Nuclear explosion

Binge watching Television
Thoughts Meandering
Announced on a Channel
Following week
5 movies of Bruce Lee

Although seen before
Both decide to View
Films on the tube
First smile in more
Than a year

Monday to Friday
9pm Everyday
Movies telecast
In order of release

Bruce Lee Blitzkrieg
Big Boss Fist of Fury
Way of the Dragon
Enter the Dragon
Game of Death
Watched keenly
Discussed deeply
Plot and Philosophy
Running Theme
In every Frame
Stand up against
Injustice and Prejudice
Might of  the Enemy
Not a factor
Every deed unfair
Lee reacted like
Blown  Reactor

Inspired by the Action
Intrigued with his Philosophy
Medicine found
To end Atrocity
Staring at Reality
Suddenly a possiblity

Lost in Fantasy
Immersed in Reality
Fighting and Philosophy
Absent the Duality
Fight explained Philosophy
Philosophy explained Fighting
Fantasy merged with Reality
Remained Absolute Clarity

Not over a period
Then and There
Moment of Zen
Happened to them
Spirits Awakened
Mode of Action
Set in Motion

Clock Restarts
Moving forward
Their plan Kickstart
Hold Accountable
Act of Cowardice
Full of Malice

Clear in their Vission
Set forth their Mission
Face their Demons
Ready for Death
Date with Destiny
Decided by the Almighty

Quotes of Bruce Lee
Read  Repeatedly
Fear is for others
Internalized by the
Bruce Lee brothers

Wait patiently
Time ticks by slowly
Boys in no hurry
Mistake could prove costly

Only Philosophy
Absorbed from Lee
Not trained in Combat
Aware of the lack
Tread with tact

Primary Drawing Teacher
Narrate the Nightmare
Lay everything thread bare
Describe the faces
Potraits on Paper
Picture Clearer
Go the Strech
In hands the Sketch

Department of Vehicles
Number of biker
Money transfer
Address procured

Day of recon
Moment of Reckoning
Revisit the locale
Time for justice to scale

Walked past
Every building
Anger manifesting
Familiar faces
A few steps later
Post of postmortem
Images linger

Second Anniversary
Time for justice Delivery
Can of petrol
Filled to the brim
Faces grim
Trip to Cemetry
Walking gallantly

Step into Sports shop
Empty the fuel can
Light the match
On the floor
In flames
Owner in a daze
Runs out in haste
Boys pick up
A couple of Weights
Stare him in the face
Walk away

Main culprit
Reading the paper
Spray of Pepper
Into the eye
Raises alarm his style
Weights on hand
Straight into his Skull
Immobile and in shock
Another weight
Same Spot

Out of his Wits
Guts spilled
The address asked
Of the 4 who took part

High Noon
Search of the Four
Rest of the  Forty Four
Relentless Pursuit
Pursued Pursue
Hunted the Hunter
Hang Em High
Biggest Blunder
labyrinth Oct 2021
Up until they reach your *****
Strech your ***** toward your backs
Then, on behalf of the masses
Kindly go **** yourselves
aldo kraas Aug 2023
Gente fina
Are not my friend
Father
Nun of my friends
Are gente fina
Because they are alsp
Extremely rich
And they have lots
Of rich friends
They don’t like any people
That are poor to be
There friends
Also gente fina
Are the slave of money
Because they work too much
And they make lots of money
Working 48 hours per week
Thanks God we are poor
And also happy
Because we live with a small
Amount of money
Every month
And we need also to make
A monthly budget with our money
We try very hard to strech our money
When we shop for used clothes
From a second hand store
We love very much our poor
Friends
And they are very rich in spirit also
And also my friends are rich in spirit
But when it comes to money
They are poor like me
KV Srikanth Apr 2022
At your wits end
Just dodged a bullet
Gates remain closed
Catch 22 situation

Grasping at the straws
Last resort exhausted
In dire straits cought in a vicious cycle
Misconstrued and
Misconceived

Fumbled regularly already
Darkness in the alley
Gave it your all
It wasn't meant to be that's all

Adds more misery
When others are doing it easily
What you cannot do once
People repeating it habitually

Do not waste
A thought on the other
They knew how to conquer
You don't and it don't matter

Until you see them
Their existence not aware
If you do see them
Socially be decent

Dice with death
Coming out of this strech
Sailing close to the wind
Reaching ashore is by itself a win

Beware the way
You want to react
To anything that
Takes your dreams away

Any reaction or perception
Is alright given the circumstances
Only one should be avoided
The one that can get most easily addicted

Self Pity and Self loathing
Focused on the  replaying syndrome
Fantasy and Reality juxtaposing
Feeling bad about the situation

Self pity a drug
Addictive with no respite
Absorbed in the rejection
Feeling sorry for self the concern

Focus only on yourself
Will marginalise you
Hoping things could have been better off
Future and past will be the same

Self pity is destruction
Of the Soul
Nothing more worse
Than feeling sorry for yourself

Tend to ignore
Others and their problems
Selfishness interludes till
It engulfs you

Alienated from others
So absorbed in oneself
Failing to  try
Or even for a recess

Ingratitude and Apathy
Denial playing victim
Expecting only Sympathy
If not received delving further deep

No one noticed
You are hurting
Obstacle to yourself
Negativity inflicted overflowing

Best way out
Treat it as a blessing
That nothing is happening
Blessed don't feel sorry

Use it to grow
Now you know
What not to do
Greatest lesson rejection can teach

It is the easy way out
Easy never got anyone anywhere
Take the hard road
Face it face to face and say Thank you

Withdrawal effect will
Last many years
Teetoatteler to self pity
Is by not taking yourself seriously
aldo kraas Sep 2023
Gente fina
Are not my friend
Father
Nun of my friends
Are gente fina
Because they are alsp
Extremely rich
And they have lots
Of rich friends
They don’t any people
That are poor to be
There friends
Also gente fina
Are the slave of money
Because they work too much
And they make lots of money
Working 48 hours per week
Thanks God we are poor
And also happy
Because we live with a small
Amount of money
Every month
And we need also to make
A monthly budget with our money
We try very hard to strech our money
When we shop for used clothes
From a second hand store
We love very much our poor
Friends
And they are very rich in spirit also
But when it comes to money
They are poor like me

— The End —