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Mike Hauser Nov 2014
I held onto you when love was new
When it bubbled up from the well
Young groom and his bride with nothing to hide
Before the teardrops fell

With sweet memories of how it would be
No one the wiser could tell
Where we both were before this occurred
Before the teardrops fell

On beaches of sand both hand in hand
Young lovers needing nobody else
Much fonder days is what we now say
Before the teardrops fell

In our marriage bed we held what we had
As we  held tight to ourselves
But that was back then, so I'll say it again
Before the teardrops fell

We lived our lives inside of the light
Where love is clean as a bell
Where all that was right stood by our side
Before the teardrops fell

Looking back on it all at the trip and the fall
We should have pulled tighter on loves belt
Then we wouldn't be so desperate in need
Before the teardrops fell
Sadolecent Dec 2014
If I showed you my teardrops,
would you collect them like rain?
store them in a jar
with the label of "pain"

If I showed you my teardrops,
would you follow their tracks
from My eyes to my cheeks,
They write the story that I am too afraid to speak

If I showed you my teardrops
would you kiss them away
would you hold my face, and make it dry
whisper gently "you are too strong to cry"

If  I showed you my teardrops,
and asked if you could show me your own
so we can learn that we are lonely,
but we're never alone.
every letter in my poems
has been carved from the contents inside my heart
with every dancing lines and singing words
exposed sorrows
every lyrics portrayed loneliness
akin to the approaching rain
rain that has been hiding from the sky
that will come out when the sky cannot hold the weight anymore
this is just a piece of paper that i use
to be written with my bleeding pen and make the blood as an ink
blood that came from my heart
i wish you will know that you are the reason
why i write these ****** letters
you are the reason why these poems has been crying
you are the reason why there are teardrops on my poems
teardrops that i use to erase this loneliness
but i didn't expect that these papers will be broken
to the point that you cannot see the line anymore
the line that says
"i love you"

but what would be the reason that you will see
there is already an owner of your heart
i'm hoping that this loneliness will fade through time
and i will make a new poem
and you are not the reason anymore
why my poems was crying
not with loneliness
but my poem will cry
because of
Harold r Hunt Sr Aug 2014
Teardrops for flowers flow
I present to you a rose and you smile.
I give you two and you begin to woo.
Six flowers are half my heart.
But seven and you think you're in heaven.
Eleven roses make you think.
But a dozen start the teardrops flowing.
Red, pink they bloom with each drop of tears
Only you can make the flowers bloom with teardrops that flow.
Aaron Shane Mar 2018
The teardrops run down
And fall of the ground
I cry in dark corners
Where nobody goes

The teardrops run down
From my eyes to my cheeks
And my eyes tells the pain that i felt because of you
But look again...
And the scars you left to me
Hidden under my clothes
That nobody knows

The teardrops run down
Your smile is now painted with someone,someone that you love, someone that i can't be
And i can see it all in your eyes
Then the teardrops run down...
Randy Mcpeek Dec 2016
My Teardrops

If I showed you my teardrops, would you collect them like rain?
Store them in jars, and label them “Pain”.
Would you follow their tracks from my eyes down my cheeks, as I write the poems I'm too inarticulate to speak?.
Would you stop them with kisses,and,bring their flow to a halt?.
As you teach me that pain isn't always my fault.
Would you hold my face gently as you dry both my eyes?.
And whisper to me “You're too beautiful to cry”.
If I showed you my teardrops,
Would you show me your own?
Embracing my loneliness
Until I'm no longer alone?.

Randy McPeek
Armando A Jul 2010
The silent teardrops on the
White, taut skin.
The rush of color to the
Face, the reds, the blacks.
A silhouette appears from the
Deliberate motions of the
Hand. So soft those silent
Teardrops on the face.
Emma Aug 2013
I can see him
So far away
I want to tell him how I feel
But not today
Because then he'll
Judge me
I'm not prepared for that mentally
But he seems so flawless
Cause I took all his flaws
He looks so perfect
It's probably a lost cause
Does he look at me
Like he's the dark and I'm the light
Or does he see me and think
I'm in a futile fight
Does he blush
As I walk
Does he replay the conversations
Where I talk
He doesn't
Cause I'm just the girl
In marching band
I'm the nerd
He's so cool
All I know
Is what I learned at school
But maybe the secret is
That he isn't strong
But I won't believe it
Until one day he proves me wrong
He's the reason
That I cry myself to sleep at night
That my whole world
Is one big blurry sight
He doesn't get
I'm like him
He just sees me
Go out on a whim
But maybe one day
He'll wake up and realize
That the girl he wants
Was always right in front of his eyes
Maybe I'm the reason
That he cannot comprehend
Why I'm always around
While all of his relationships end
I'm the sign
He has searched
To prove to him that not all girls are
By design
But until then all I can dream about
Is holding hands
Being one of those couples
Advertised in designer brands
But till then
I can dream
Maybe things won't always be
As they seem
I can see him
So far away
I want to tell him how I feel
But not today.
A rewrite to the tune of "Teardrops on my Guitar" by Taylor Swift.
Samantha Feb 2013
Dewdrops on petals
Hard to differentiate
From my own teardrops
The other day
I stood outside
thinking to myself

All the pain came flooding back
from past times all alike
pain I shared with others
and pain all of my own
pain that brought knives rope
and pain that brought some hope

Then my sorrow came flooding out
in tiny shiny drops
with a name we've  given
that is so simple,
harmless teardrops

Yet as they fell towards my palm
they turned to hardened ice
falling down to my open hand
behold my frozen pain

I reached up my trembling hand
to catch the falling silver
only to see both pain and hope
shatter in my palm
My heart played notes
inside the margins of time
in repeated sighs
while the world kept rhythm
on my self-esteem
with the feet of strangers.  
Still, last night
I wrote lines about life and love
that whispered come dance with me,
kiss away........
my jaded words of anger.

I raised my glass to life
then ran
from the very air I once breathed in
and called a masterpiece,
because each breath I took in
made me stand tall.  
Until, I found I had been feasting
on teardrops telling me
I had gone astray
each time.......
they'd start to fall.

You were there all along
singing I love you
underneath my skin
while each breath I took
cried out
inside the margins of time perfectly
and my heart played notes
until my teardrops dried
on the feet of strangers
on the heart of me.
Copyright ©2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Torin Jun 2016
The teardrops of stars
A woman with a body
And a name
How I look up in the night
And see her eyes
I see her skin as the sky
A cosmic answer
A soft place to land
From my recent fall
The tears that formed
Flow like glaciers
Ruining her make-up
Mascara on her cheeks
And her heart
How I reach out through these voids
These pits of despair
These ****** of pain
And touch love
These crystalline tears
Shine on my hair
And drown my hands
In her forever
I never saw the sun
But I swear
By god
I have felt it
Fall on me
As love from the ether
As teardrops
From stars
George Ellison May 2010
They say when it rains it pours
They say when you open up your heart it opens up doors
Crying is just our heart telling us its going to be alright
And crying makes the pain cool down but it only makes thoughts build up
Tears falling while your mind is chasing
emotions are everywhere making it hard to comprehen
Raindrops are gods emotions on the world
Teardrops are your Hearts emotion
Watery eyes and lots anger can take away the true meaning of teardrops
because you shouldnt be crying because of anger or sadness
Because what is the best word ever Happiness...........
Comment if you like
Jacquelyn Cruz Nov 2010
My heart forever longing
As seduction and pleasures melt inside,
Entwining thoughts of desire behind.

This kind of love, is enthralled with pain.
If you could read into my teardrops of time...
You be blinded by the thoughts they hold inside.

A curse, of bleeding hearts raveled with vines
Of temptations... for a wanting of something devine…
That’s been embedded from deep within…

As the burning hunger of love, for you never ends…
Lingering desires, of seduction and pleasure,
Equal…the entwining of two hearts together.

This kind of love, is enthralled with pain...
As my heart, is forever longing...
To feel the same...

The pounding of, Burning Hunger
For Passion and love
That forever lingers

In my heart...
Ugo Victor Aug 2016
Ever heard of teardrops
That shattered a heart
A story of love
and the pain that accompanies it.

We started like a fire
A Stray from its path
I wasn't sure about our direction
Didn't know it would turn out so

I'm not here for long I told you
But you gave me your heart anyways
And mine came unstuck and
Followed you

In your hands it turned from stone
To ice, to glass
Delicate but beautiful and ready
Just like yours
To be adored; To be broken

Now I'm leaving but not for good
You still have my heart you see

But that didn't stop the tears and
From you they came
In drops of sadness
As I held you close to my heart

Now I'm left to tell the story
of how teardrops
Fell on my now delicate heart
Shattering it.

Ever heard of teardrops
That shattered the heart?
I wish it was fiction
I wish it was fiction.
Jade Massey Dec 2014
Those clear liquid drops of fluid that roll down your cheek when you cry. Crying defies the scientific explanation. Tears are only supposed to lubricate the eyes. When tear glands overproduce tears at the behest of emotion...I think it's our way of releasing those emotions; sadness, grief, desperation, anger, shock, happiness, etc. Emotions are weird things. As humans, we have hearts and brains. But emotion also defies scientific explanation. Hearts are only supposed to pump blood, not feel emotion. I guess, in a way, humans defy scientific explanation. We cry, we have feelings. But it's beautiful. Tears fill our eyes until they're blurry and we can hardly see. Tears roll down our cheeks, the sides of our noses, into our slightly open lips, down our chins, and even along our necks. When eyes are full of tears and they glint in the light, it's almost inhumanly beautiful. But tears can also be ugly things. When you cry, tears clog your throat, your nose. You have to breathe in gasping breaths and you can't see because your eyes are too blurry. All you feel is the damp marks your tears left. When you look in a mirror, your eyes are blotchy and your nose is bright red. Your eyeballs are glassy and water marks your skin. After a good long cry, you grow tired and fall asleep. When you wake, your face feels like it has been scrubbed raw, but really it's just the tear tracks. It isn't the tears that are ugly, but the crying. Humans are complex beings. Everything about them is also complex. Sometimes, those complex things are beautiful. Like...Teardrops.
["Crying defies the scientific explanation. Tears are only supposed to lubricate the eyes. When tear glands overproduce tears at the behest of emotion..." (Insurgent, Roth)]
Paul Marfil May 2015
They danced underneath
the frigid December sky,
their eyes like the stars,
and their hands held together
by warm yet frozen teardrops
LJ Chaplin Aug 2013
The keyboard on my laptop has witnessed too many tear drops
Fall upon it's ebony skin as I type,
Each articulation of painful thoughts
And agonisingly catastrophic formation of words
Forcing another wave of grief to pour from these
empty blue eyes of mine.

I have tried to keep my head above the water,
To contain the wildfire in my head
That threatens to spread and burn under my veins,
Aflame in every single bone in this hollow body
But now it seems comforting to let myself slip
Beneath the surface,
To let the fire turn everything to ashes.

It feels better this way,
To be a chaotic mess.
**At least I know how beautiful I'll be when I open up my heart and mind to the possibility of destruction.
Ember Evanescent Oct 2014
Icicles break my heart because they                                                      are like frozen teardrops that got
so absolutely freezing cold
They froze as sharp blades of ice
Until they eventually fall
And shatter

Please repost if your teardrops are frozen
Comment I love to read people's interpretations of my work!
Please repost if your teardrops are frozen
Comment I love to read people's interpretations of my work!
anonymous999 Sep 2014
can you ***** my finger and measure the dopamine in my veins? collect my teardrops and tell me if i'm going to be okay? can you light up the darkness with magical pills?
decide if i'm too sad to go to school?
can you tell me if i'm just being melodramatic? measure my blood pressure, maybe that will work. write me a prescription for 5 Happy Days in a row, and 3 hugs from Someone I Love.

doctor, doctor
i'm not feeling well today
doctor, doctor
i don't know if i should stay

sadness isn't a sickness, but it's infected my mind. can you write me some antibiotics to get them out in time?

sadness isn't sickness, but i think i might've caught something from doing a little too much of Having No Friends. don't you know how much i've been Laying In Bed?
sadness isn't sickness, but i think i'm coming down

doctor, doctor
i've got a severe case of the I Don't Want To Lives
can you write me a prescription?
make it go away?

doctor, doctor
you've let me down this time
doctor, doctor
i'm not in my prime

can you tell that i'm not healthy?
'cause i don't think you can
oh, sadness isn't sickness,
but it's fatal,
if all goes according to plan
Haylin Apr 2018
The horror, the rain,
The misery, the pain.
The factors of teenagehood
And its ghostly being.

From nasty rivalry,
The silver teardrops quench the
Hunger of discaring boys.
They move on to their next victim.

Words like love, hate, *****,
Are thrown around and toyed with.
Teenage socialism is a witch,
Sweeping misery across the generation.

Heartbreaking, the look in their eyes,
Well up with tears, victims to lies.

Teenagehood, it grasps you
By its crooked claws.
From your peace, it rips apart
Your soul and leaves damage in its trail.

Why do we have to suffer?
Why can’t we return to the world?
The world we loved and cherished.
Toys and songs, now perished.

Puberty, hatred, fear,
They all add up to one phase in life.
With its treacherous fangs.
Hurt from distrust brings misery near.

With sympathy to all,
For a long journey ahead.
Hold on to your sanity,
For the reason you have previously read.
Greyson Fay Dec 2014
I hate the way I cause you pain.
Making teardrops fall like rain.

I hate the way you make me think.
clouding my mind like I'm half asleep.

I hate the way I feel so weak.
I always feel like such a freak

but though we both make clouds and sleet.
we must try to stand on our feet


is what we have.
this bleary endeavor will not last forever.
I promise <3
T May 2019
The sparkle in her eye was heightened by the glare of the summer moon.......the smile on her face was never gone too soon
Her body swayed...... to every beat from the music that played.......
Like a ballerina she danced through the night...........For me her beauty was never far from my sight
These teardrops that still fall from my eyes........fall to the ground like a thousand raindrops from the summer skies
As l lay in a pool of a thousand teardrops and try to keep my head above water.......forgive me if my hands become weak and I sink to the bottom for without her....why should I bother
# my love for her still runs through my veins
hfallahpour Jun 2016
teardrops are prone to overflow
like a sea that has come into a bowl
and to no one can speak of woe
Morgan Mercury Oct 2013
I found you in the cracks of winter between puffing breaths of cold air like a dragon, on that cold Wednesday afternoon. I swore your eyes were the ocean, and I could see all the way to Europe. You held your books like a shield guarding your chest and you introduced yourself like a king.

We talked of Bukowski and Frost in between sips of lukewarm water. I fell in love with every pause you took and every time you blinked my heart beat increased. I was surprised you couldn't feel it from across the table.

You showed me the scars on your legs and arms you've gotten over the years. One from jumping off a roof into a pool. One randomly showing up when you woke up that morning. And one from that time you had a tumor removed from your chest. You told me don't feel sorry for you and don't feed you sympathy because you have been full for years.

We spent the next couple of months telling secrets. You told me I was the first person you have ever felt comfortable with in a long time. You kissed me so silently and slowly it was like breathing underwater. Forgive me if I sound selfish but I could not stay under the water any longer and I couldn't hold my breath for another second. I gave all my wishes and stars to you that night. I wrote poetry on your skin that we created when our hands touched.

We explored the mountains and ate picnics every Saturday afternoon. We ran from the rain as we saw the clouds roll in, we sat in the car and played truth or dare for an hour straight. I promised you I will love you until we're old and I'll have to feed you with a spoon until this action isn't anymore romantic but necessary instead.

It was a Tuesday at 2:35 in the morning when you were experiencing pain. I drove you to the hospital.

Our love was like a mother teaching a daughter how to slow dance for the first time; clumsy.
You didn't know how to hold me properly anymore because you were to busy holding medical bills in your hands. When I see these papers my mind loses focus and all those words form one big blur, and they become wet with warm teardrops smudging the news across the white crinkled paper. I turned off the tv that night and we actually looked at each other staring like we were both blank canvases and had painters block for the first time ever. That night you packed a suitcase and went away in a taxi. The hospital wasn't too far away but I couldn't bare to see you walk into that place again.

It was cold and it was Sunday. The doctors tried everything they could but it was already too big and eating you away. Old friends were always bitter when they weren't welcomed back but stormed in like a hurricane destroying everything the future has to hold. Your eyes were colorless and your hands were too fragile to hold anything. My heart was beating out of my chest and my palms were shaking. It felt like I was holding an earthquake.

You were only 21.

You had a warm heart and a beautiful brain. You were drained like rain-soaked up from the earth. I wished I could have taken you places and brought you flowers. But it was always too cold to go somewhere and all the flowers have disappeared away until next spring. For on now I'll just have to bring you back to life through words and hope not to cry. Another love is too far away to see and my vision is blurry but I don't want it to be clear. For I fear that I will once again become too selfish because I can't wait forever for you because death is miles away, and I'm not ready to see that side of my life. But when tomorrow starts without you I guess I'll just go home because, sweetheart, all the dust has disappeared.

Let us praise the time when we flew to Vegas one night because we were board. Praise the moment when we were so full of glee that time we won $20, and how we ignored that fact we lost $600. Praise the day our car broke down on the side of a mountain and so we finally got a chance to talk to each other and confess our problems. Praise that moment we meet on that frosty December. I hope your ghost waltzes at sunset with my shadow. I know it's only been a few years since we meet but for me, it was a lifetime of happiness.  Let it be known you are engraved into my brain and I'll always remember the time I saw you clutching books to your chest and puffing dragon breath.
just rambling
when the rain is falling like teardrops on the pane
it reminds of the tears i cried coming back again
tears of hurt and sorrow whenever things went wrong
tears of joy and happiness that kept me feeling strong.

rolling down my face like the falling rain
stopping for a while then starting once again
then when the sun comes and all the rain has gone
the teardrops in my memory simply just move  on
I S A A C Mar 2022
they are polluted by my delusion
they were born to ruin
my tears are acidic and my burden is heavy
my fears are basic and I feel incomplete already
it's a lot to wrap my head around, especially when my feet are not on the ground
I'd rather ride the clouds or catch a wave
who determined that life had to be so grey, day in and day out
paychecks in and I already spent it, this hole I cannot get out
my teardrops are acid and my god I cannot hold them in any longer
my emotions are stronger the longer they harbor.
ivyandrose Feb 2013
the sun
and I,
for you
Samuel Lombardo Jan 2019
The one teardrop says to the other;
I am the tears of sorrow, fear, and anger.
I make every person that feels me
burn with anguish, because I take ego to rest.
I claim to make it better when my tear
is forced with all that fear.
But then I cross paths with laughter, joy, and love;
and wow...I get freaked out!
I love one thing;
I love to argue, be indifferent;
it makes my eyes water every time they see me.
There is no winning or losing with me;
you have to deal with my hard feelings;
oh yes, there is no feeling left after me.
I can even break hearts
because that is what I do.
But then I do not know why no one wants me;
but I keep doing what I see best;
it is like a no brainer with no brains.
I am a difficult teardrop to deal with,
because you do not know why
my eyes are so hurt.
These teardrops will flood the soul
to a deep infernal pain of anguish if you met me.

Then down the flooded river of those dark brown eyes;
I can see the laughter, joy, and love.
Those teardrops said nothing;
they could not argue with me;
they just kept moving,
But then I realized that no matter
where I go, those teardrops were going
down the same path.
Why are those beautiful teardrops following me?
This is not making no sense;
Two opposite tears for the same reason going
down the same projected path.
Why do you pick me?
Why do I deserve your love?
What did I do to deserve your love?
I love to fight, argue, and be unpredictable;
you love to be quiet, peaceful, and live the dream;
I have no dream to live.
What is there about me that you like?
And for some reason I cannot fight your tears;
you make me drain with pain;
you make me broken in my flood;
and you mix with my tears to make me beautiful.

The other teardrop stops;
it melts away the burning desire of pain.
Molds me into something I am not;
how the hell do you do that?
I am a teardrop of fear and anger!
How did you know to make me whole?
the second teardrop says,
"You were once me, and I felt you before,
but I chose to make myself whole, again."
Do you want my love?
Mix with me, let me feel you;
I will let you in my pool of
love, peace, and understanding.
You will find yourself at peace;
you will never want to leave me;
that is when I know I found the one.
You do not need to worry;
you do not need to fear love;
love is gentle; love is kind;
You do not have to fear me;
you know you want me,
because it is me that makes you shine.
Why worry about finding the one?
Why worry about the future?
Here I am; I've been here all along;
you just never accepted me.
Yes, I shed my tears in comfort that
You will find me;
You have found me;
No more hate, anger, or ego.

You have me; you need me;
You want me; I am the one.
Get over here, take me in;
your heart is manifesting into
my own desire;
opposites do attract;
I have been fighting this long;
I mind as well sleep in your tears.
I have a big surprise for you;
do you remember that third teardrop;
the teardrop of the predicament;
life choices, intercession, and destiny.
Well, that teardrop is what made us transparent;
and I want to be with you,
because like you never had my tears;
I never had your tears.
Do I want your tears?
No, but it is your tears with mine
that helps heal the others in this pool;
and together we can be a team;
a team for love and hate;
and how the two really make a balance.
You love hate; I love peace;
but together we can be in peace with our love.
Your flaws are my own;
There are only two tear drops in our soul.
We know that opposites do attract, but it is the opposition that we fear when it comes to love.  Do not worry, and if you live your life with confidence that opposition will fade into a pool of wonderful clear teardrops of love.
your teardrops
create ripples
to my heart
and the waves
drowned my soul
i gasp for air so hard when you cry
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Terry O'Leary May 2013

Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell


1st Delirium: COLLAPSES

Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice

2nd Delirium: DESCENTS

Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted ***
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb

3rd Delirium: FATES

Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks

4th Delirium: LOST SOULS

Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won


Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs

6th Delirium: THE VOID

Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore

7th Delirium: SEARCHING

Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
****** dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow

8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME

Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free

9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS

Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum

10th Delirium: ALIENATION

Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why

11th Delirium: JETSAM

Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found

12th Delirium: RELIEF

Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony


Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
SilentMetanoia May 2016
If I showed you my teardrops,
Would you collect them like rain
Store them in jars,
That are labelled with "Pain"
Would you follow their tracks,
From my eyes down my cheeks,
As they write all the stories,
I'm too scared to speak,
Would you stop them with kisses,
Bring their flow to a halt,
As you teach me that pain
Isn't always my fault,
Would you hold my face gently,
As you dry both my eyes,
And whisper the words,
"You're too precious to cry"
If I showed you my teardrops,
Would you show me your own,
And learn though we're lonely,
We're never alone.
Olivia Choi Nov 2014
Tears crumple to the ground
But so do the raindrops

And as you can't tell the difference
In which one is which

One soul gone
In a storm of millions
Would not ever seem amiss
Robyn Neymour Oct 2010
Crystal blue lake,
Shaped like an earthquake,
Surrounded by royal purple flowers,
And royal misty yellow shadows.
There is no end to your beauty,
In return no end to your disaster.
Crawling along the lips of every leaf,
That feeds on every living breath,
Of your dazzling light majestic waves,
Are drips of your everlasting love,
That almost every creature thirsts after,
Baby scorpions,
Delight in the twilight,
Before the sun arise.
My eyes set, an engraving gaze.
Everything caught on fire but you.
Flames, ashes, and black mist,
Soaring through the skies.
I can see you, and the reflection in my eyes,
Inside your craving waters.
Beautiful, sound, soft, I can hear you still,
Gently moving through a disaster,
That I cannot stop on my own,
It’s not humanely possible.
I can hear the creatures,
The scorpions I can feel,
Crawling up my spine.
The fire creating,
An unnatural twist of events,
Then you arise.
I can feel it now in my eyes.
Nothing comes out,
Except my reflection.
Like looking through a cold glass mirror,
Smudges, far from the horizon.
I see you trying to get everything out of me,
But there were more screams.
Teardrops in the light,
That were on the horizon.

© RGN - Oct 29th  2010
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I used to think that all of them were just bodies. She-figures, they came and went, facilitating infinite happiness and following with hellacious heartbreak, aorta explosions galore. They pass. I stay. She goes. I remain. We all take a trip, but she falls asleep while I follow the road, I sing the song, make the lyrics up as the 101 heads West, and I careen against the Pacific. I see silvery-white plumes of whale breaths spouting, they break the rocks of my rock and roll. When the levee breaks, we'll have no place to go- I'm going back to Chicago.

California. Line 5. Verse 1. She is born in Arkansas, in Denver, in New York City, in the back of a taxi cab, her parents waiting for a table at Earth Cafe, 1989. There are concerts, balconies, elevator shafts, and on benches. The gain rises, the volume up and up and up, I offer her a cigarette, I ask her if she likes my dress, I show up with two palms full of a flame, and I say hello. Browsing in high-definition, the water is warm, my feet are planted and I have everywhere to go. Classical emporium of light fill me with ease, greatness, and belief. She asks me if I'm gay. Every great confusion can be proven to be fortuitous with enough time on hand. I kiss in cars, in bathrooms, and barrooms, in hallways, on staircases, on beds, church steps, and legs. I touched a leg, ran my fingers through her hair, my thumbs curved to the height of two ears alongside a size B head. I love art *****. i burn candles, and I swirl the wax around until the walls wear masks of white. I check-in to a hotel. I stop to buy wild flowers on the side of the road, or to climb down a ravine, we open a page into an enormous patch of strawberries, wind-surfers, and the golden Palo Alto beaches. I am in Bronzeville, on my way to Bridgeport, I am riding the train, browsing magazines, and singing new songs in my head. My lips are wet with excitement and the musings of the Modern Art Museum and the gift of a first kiss; behind the statue on Balcony 2, near the drinking fountain, the Eames couch, and two lips meeting anew. Bravery in twos.

Chapter 1, Verse 2. The chorus is large and exciting. New plastic shining coats. Smocks patterned with the Random House children's stories that we played with as children. We didn't wear gloves, or hats, or pants, or our hearts on our sleeves. I was up to my knees in hormones and very persuasive. My fifth birthday was at the Nature Center, you chased me into the boys' bathroom and kissed me with your wet and four year old lips in the second stall from the door. I eased up maybe 2% since then. The speakers are a little bit fuzzy, it's like listening to the spit of someone's tongue cascade the roof of their mouth while they pronounce the British consonants of the 90s. Said and done and saving space.

I am saving up for Grace. A crush in the mid 2000s, black hair, long legs, and the only brunette for a decade before or after. We played doctor, with the electric scalpel we turned our noses red with Christmas time South American powders. A safe word for an enemy, the sun for an enemy too. You bolted out and took my early Jimi Hendrix Best Of compact disc case too. While we're at it, you took my Michael Jackson cassettes as well. I go mid-range, think Kiri Te Kanawa in the whispers of E.T.'s Elliot. Stuffed-animal closet party for seven minutes in heaven. Your family came with butlers while mine came with over-educated storage. A blue borage sky in the intestines of life, a splinter in the shanty-town of invincible daily struggles- both of us were born again in O'Hare Airport's Parking Level D. Too many nonsensical arguments in two-tone grayscale ripping open the packaging of a course about trysting in your twenties.

Your stomach's history is overpowering. It is temperamental, mettled by spirits and sleepless nights, borborygmus, wambles, and shades of nervousness you were never comfortable speaking openly about. The history of your ****** was privatized, in options and unedited films shot over and over candidly by a mini DV desk camera, nine months to read you wrong to weep in strong wintry walks back and forth from The Buckingham to the Dwight Lofts, Room 408 without a view. All of your secrets in a little miniature of a notebook, bright cerise red. You captured teardrops in medicinal jars meant for syringes. You tied strings to your fingers, named your field mouse Ginger, and introduced your mother as Lady Darling. Captain with stingray skin, the hide of Ferris Bueller with the coattails of James Bond, dusted with daisy pollen, and clearly weakness. You ate me like bitter herbs on Thursdays, and like every other woman I've ever met, on Tuesdays you always kept me waiting.

I have wings for everything. Yellow wings for a woman in a yellow dress, Red, White, and Green wings for Bernice from Mexico City, Purple wings for  Mrs. Doolittle the doctor who worked at Taco Bell, the Jamaican priestess who was traveling through Venice Italy- we smoked hash with the grandchild of James Joyce on the Northern pier against the aurulent statues of Apollo and Zeus, Cupids' collection of malevolent tricks, SleepingB Beauty's rebuttal in fending off GHB attackers, my two dear friends who were kidnapped in clothes, abandoned in the ****, and only remember eating chocolate donuts with sprinkles and the bruises and dirt on the insides of their thighs. Nothing clever. Nothing extraordinary. Everything sentimental, built to withstand soot, sourness, and early female bravado.

You know how to play the piano so you've said, but i only have the CD you gave me to prove it. I do have evidence of your addiction to men and *******. I have your collection of dresses with tags still on them (but every woman has some of those), there is the post office box in Kauai, the Halloween card from last November and the two videos I have stored on an external drive in a nightstand adjacent to the foot of my bed. You sleep atrociously, talk too quickly, and **** like your father abandoned you when you were five. Your talent for taking photographs is like your skill-set for playing the piano, but I don't have the CD to prove it. You don't believe in social media, social consistency, friendships, or hephalumps and woozels- with the exception of the classes we shared together in college, I've never seen you outside of the most glamorous of fashion. You hate flats, hats, and white wine, and for as sad as you can seem to be at times, I've only had you cry on me once. While we were on the phone, three days after your mother hung herself. That's when I last left California, and I haven't been back yet.

I love a Kristine, but once a Britni, a Brandi, a Joni, a Tina, Kristina, Kirsten, Kristen, and a Katherine and Kathryn too. I know rock stars who are my dearest friends, enemies who I share excellent taste in music with, and parents who've always had my back but show it in lashings of the tongue and of the belt. It's been two years and three states since I was two sizes smaller than I am now. I've never considered the possibility that I was the main character and not the supporting actor, but due to recent developments in antipathy and aesthete, reevaluation, and retrospective nostalgia. All of this is about to change.

I am me still evolving without my usually stolid and grim ****** features. i bare brevity to situations existing that would **** most or in the least paralyze a great many. There is one for every hour of every day, and one for every minute in every hour, second in every minute, and more than the minutes in every day. No one has a second chance, shares a different time, or works off a different clock. I have been called the master of the analog, king of the codependent, and rook to queenside knight. I share a parabola for every encounter, experience, and endeavor. I am three minutes from being a cadaver, one drink away from a drunk, and one thought away from being completely alone. I think upright, i sleep horizontally, and I love infinitely. I am the only finite constant i have ever known. I am the main character, the script, satire, sarcasm, and soundtrack are mine.

"I don’t care if you believe it. That’s the kind of house I live in. And I hope we never leave it.”
There's A Wocket In My Pocket by Dr. Seuss

— The End —