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Onoma Jul 2015
As absolute an effect
as the strange
trading apparency with
the normal...
dead center of dead
of center, at dawn the
crosswalk is already
fading into sunset...with
uncharacteristic lucidity.
As if something coming to,
at the right place of no-place...
at the right time of no-time.
Akemi Feb 2018
hole in the sky. tap tap, the empty vessel flows out. a weightless sink. the hour goes, blaring swell of humidity, and the jug lukewarm, leaven oft in the barred space. I return to my room. I drink the cold milk on the sill. I finish the third wretched spill of the journey to Olympus.

Downstairs a howl, a wind slam SOLOM OBSERVATIONAL MATRIX STRUCTURED TASKS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY TO ASSIST WITH INSTRUMENTAL DECISIONS. I close the door I close the door I close the door I close the

In this uneasy slumber, the bed shakes, the windows rattle, the sky splits, the earth floods a red simpering capitulatory spasm of earthly flesh. Here is the circuit, the tired nervous tic of inaction, I shrink back from the outstretched hand, a condition which recommends two pills in the morning to mask the double image beneath my hands.

i have slept through the week again, this pathetic flesh obeys nothing, where are my pills inescapable ******* dullery

THE JUG IS HOT. I return to my room. I close the door two pills on the sill to go down with the milk

THE DOOR SLAMS GALL BUCKLING FIT ODE BREATHLESS CLOSER CLOSER CLOSER BUT THE SOUND REMAINS

Figures muffled by the walls. There are guests in the house, the looming presence of multiple species with incomprehensible intentions. In a bout of uncharacteristic curiosity, I slip my sight through the crack of my door. UNDER RCG IT WILL BE MANDATORY FOR ALL CUSTOMS CARGO REPORTERS IN THE AIR SEA AND ROAD INDUSTRIES TO SUBMIT REPORTS TO SARS ELECTRONICALLY. I am unmoved by such perceptions. I prepare the final climb to Olympus.

the cyclone is ended. the front door is barred. the jug is cold. the yard is littered with unmoving shapes.
In this catastrophically worthless point of my life I find myself intersected by my failure to sustain a relationship, my alienation from left-wing collective politics, and my consumption of Faulkner and Ligotti, unto the birth of self-destructive pessimism.
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
Britt Oct 2012
cyclic lingering

disconnected rambling

the same words rearanged

breathes shortening

impotent bargaining

the same pattern misbehaves

Ive always walked this way

hormonal litter cursed by anatomy

hyesteria



weepy futility

uncharacteristic of one so bold

the words of tongues

drag mud through wounds

a voided heart : not so





deep breaths

stand strong in misery

mindfulness, like a drug

disconnect and call it religion

pacing pacing pacing

thoughts;



I bleed for the words of others

For both praise and scheming lies

I wish to leave this haunted soul

but I

But I

but I ...what?

need to run?

to hide?

to hold my ground?

we'll see as it comes

a controlling women's worst nightmare
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
s Oct 2016
they all come with these things called feelings that vary amongst each other but nevertheless they all have some of their own

and when they develop these feelings for another one of their kind they experience strange symptoms such as having blood constantly rushing to their faces and their heartbeats increasing rapidly in their presence

their term for it is love and sometimes it causes them to do impulsive and uncharacteristic things and sometimes it causes them to deny these feelings of theirs and other times it prevents them from functioning as they normally would

they say love is an emotional rollercoaster (a metal contraption with small vehicles connected to tracks of varying lengths and shapes and speeds that humans go on for amusement) and that it is one of the greatest gifts given to humans, but that's up to you to decide
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is  
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths  
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
With in all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
life nomadic Jan 2013
Rising before instinct completes my sleep, rousing common sense out of bed,
I pack the car.  It's so dark the moon is still drowsing.
Soon I am in the cool ocean, arms propelling me and a surfboard,
stomach submerged and chest free through white water splashes,
then crests breaking, then up and over their shoulders
to arrive at the very place where waves emerge from calm water.

At this hour there are only a handful of other dawn-patrol surfers, all Hawaiians.
Greeting with a smile of bright grace learned from the sun, and a cheerful How'z It?
brown glowing skin tattooed with small triangle patterns on strong arms, chests, backs,
emblems of kama'aina heritage and Aloha's honor.  
A little talk story, sharing a laugh, and I sit up to take sentinal,
beginning the quiet meditation
searching the horizon for the sea's ever-changing intention.

Morning wakes color, with sleepy palms rubs away the world's hushed gray veil
revealing sky blue on royal aquamarine and palm-tree green silhouetting tropical canyon jade.
The mountain's gold-rimmed halo of mist is announcing dawn's imminent arrival.
She bursts over the ridge, arms showering the water with tiny pebbles of light
gold jewels skipping across the sparkling surface and turning silver.

It must be so beautifully curious from below, the whale's eye view here in their sanctuary.
First we see a mysterious dark shape, a nose, that morphs into an ever-expanding building,
that materializes into the entire magnificent whale suspended in our thin world
then arching over, she bursts the water, scattering dawn's sparkling treasure.

We surfers call with uncharacteristic exclamations, pointing in excitement,
So close we can feel the whale's contagious joy.
One Hawaiian woman slides off her board, to place her ear on the water in reverie;
hearing the Kahunas ancient Aumakua call.
.
.
Copyright © 2013 Anna Honda. All Rights Reserved.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
A message for you on this Sunday

I had a terrifying nightmare a person I know was driving a pickup truck in the back was this
Great African lion he hardly seemed to fit in the truck and then he would surge forward against
The restraints that had him bound and that’s when it became more terrifying he would
Grow Even more his giant head not to mention his fangs his claws and his great mane all the
Time this little human person is racing down the road this depiction has multiple telling the
Foremost the devil is as a roaring lion that prowls about seeking whom he can devour and it is
The Great lion time individually the hour glass of many is very low Roger Ebert’s last golden
Grain Feel to the pile of sand at the end of the hour glass and then Valerie Harper has few
Grains Remaining in her case I’m hoping that a great number of us can pray and possibly God
Would be Entreated by us and change this irreversible course her life is headed in and then the
Hour glass for the whole world shows prophetically and in just common understanding the days
Are numbered now time has plundered the ship of wonder it passes on the leeward side her
Sails torn by centuries of travel many have been the thrills and adventures that have made the
World a nautical fantasy she would run with her sails full and many a dream she has pursued
And captured many were the days she lay low in the water and all humanity on board was
Smiling now it’s told in the wind and the waterspouts seem to say you will soon pass as it were
Into a cloud bank when you break clear it will no longer be the old familiar trade routes but just
A short distance ahead the break waters are seen and they hold a world that has only been
Seen By faith now it lies just off the starboard this time the delirium is not a fever of human
Content but finally being behind the vale where love was sweet and satisfying now it is laden
Like a ship’s cargo and now it is uncompromised unsoiled by sins pollution this love is a mixture
Of pure joy fulfillment that strains at every seem the laughter is uncharacteristic by it being
Without an ounce of sadness and you thought you had earth family well heavens census holds
Relatives that are an understatement when they say this is a distant relative and some bore the
Marks of martyrdom everyone’s disposition seems like they been on a steady diet of honey
Those former days when the worst pains came from trouble with family are the faintest and to
The most part forgotten memories this is and all feeling holds buoyancy what you will never see
Is a frown a tear or a want of any kind not fulfilled this is all pertaining to the emotional realm
Then you start with the physical structure of this golden city this is where the ignoble problem
With riches have been removed gold if put in heaps would reach higher than Everest but it is
A sheen transparent it’s  what Jesus told the street department to use as material to make the
Streets out of in fact every work order has this stamped on it my faithful children who loved me
And deserted the false and deadly world of self are coming home we will make it perfect my
Favorite emeralds are the great jeweled wonders that continually shine out from his throne if
Diamonds are a girl’s best friend my dears you will need your new glorified bodies or you would
Be instantly blinded by the splendor no coal cream no wrinkles you will be eighteen for ever any
Imperfections I wrote about last time had their day and brought good from bad now it’s time to
Enjoy what the word says Eye has not seen or ear has heard what God has prepared for them
That truly loved him doesn’t this awaken you to the cheap and dangerous world of following
The Devil into his rightful place into the flames the great thing it’s in our hands to decide
Continue to be devoured or stop and call on Jesus and be empowered and for your safety sake
Try this Experiment go to churches and if in any way they disregard Acts 2:38 and the message
It speaks as pure gospel truth and if from that they tell you things that are different but this
Guarantee Exist in God’s word if you desire truth on the inward parts it will be shown to you I’m
Talking to People already in churches I’m not slamming your beliefs I’m just offering you the
Missing parts nothing on earth is more important than this writing that you’re reading today
You can and should prove me wrong you will be surprised and blessed by your results I will add
This if this what I write offends you it could mean there is a problem and I will tell you another
Guarantee God says if I or anyone offends one of these little ones it will be better for him to
Have a mill Stone tied around his neck and be thrown into the deepest sea that’s how much
God cares for you I care and I make it sure by my own immortal soul there is all kinds of lies
Mistakes Misrepresentation but only one real truth that will get you where I have written about
Today
Kelly Anne Sep 2013
I had the most scary,
awful,
horrifying,
sickening dream last night.

It was a dream that my grandmother had passed away.
Died.
She was gone.

And I
wasn't
even
there for her.

I was told, no, informed,
through the most insensitive,
impersonal means possible.
A simple, three worded,
text message.

I don't remember how much I cried
in the dream.
Or if I really even shed a single tear.

All I know now, as I scribble down these
scattered thoughts
in a handwriting almost illegible,
an attempt to rid them from my mind,
is how I feel with my mind racing through the possibility of such an event.

My stomach hurts, every muscle in my being clenched in a
sudden stress,
a tactic to hold back that urge to purge myself
of all contents and feeling whatsoever.
Both hands are cramped as one braces me
against this abnormally warm and now uncomfortable bed,
the other struggling to write while my forearm
throbs with discomfort.

My breathing is off.
There is no normal steady rhythm to it;
rather a scattered pattern of inhales and exhales
both long and short,
often separated by uncharacteristic
pauses.

I've dealt with death before.
More than once,
many years ago.
(I'm still dealing with it.)

I understand that it is very much a part of life,
and the rest of us must continue on,
void of voice or choice.
It is the cruel awakening.

And my relief at waking to the most normal of texts
from dear old Dad
and the realization that my fear
had only occurred
in the depth of that unconscious realm
ruled by sleep...
I just cannot ever explain.
I can only remain horrified that I would dare endure
such a pain, even in imagination.

And yet,
as the day's busy agenda begins to take over all else
and I am only too eager
to push the dream away
and let it disappear into nothingness
as I mentally prepare for today and this week,
I've already decided...

I think I'll call Grandma today.
Kelly Sep 2021
I've already thought of the worst things I could do to you
cyclically
incessantly

a game of control and nothing more

yet it hadn't crossed me to consider
the worst things you could do to me

until i was met unmoving with your heat
and I retreated

                 how uncharacteristic.

                                              ­                         how exciting.
challenge my control.
Brea Brea May 2013
You are
You are
a chiseled statue
a myth, animated under my gaze
tangible flesh under my hands
out of my closeted mind
you are
you are
in essence, a beautiful mirror
of a beautiful essence
For Adonis, I come to understand
my feelings are lulled under your tongue
patience
as my blind senses seek them out
you are
you are
a silent strength
owning to yourself
must I thank
you
this dance
of serpents of ether
smoothing feathery scales over the riddling bones of Lilith
I owe this response to you
For the things you stand for, the truth under which a fined tooth comb scrutinizes
grasps of tickling warm fire conjure my intentions
I am a smooth stone, burning by the illicit form and desire of this worldly hearth
under my arms you reach and you soothe
this idea from the small of my back, out of reach
I walk my thoughts further away from you
to objectify the sensations that pursue
Eros draws
his serrated arrow tip alongside my cool unassaulted skin
should I linger here, I'll find it sheared
and my sanctity tampered
use this silence to displace this feeling from outside of me
so I can take my leave
lay frozen still as I divulge and lavish upon you my disgusting intentions
to my absence
so I can leave
and rid myself of uncharacteristic traits
tempting
butterfly wings fluttering against the underside of my skull
I am not tempted
I do not regress
Eros is unwelcome here
when he speaks of this particular entity
under his outstretched upper lip
I am enraged
what can a boy-youth know of the complexities of the feminine spirit
to which the heart works in unison
my feelings are my own, in a shallow drawer where they aren’t tosseled
arent felt
I may feel the warmth of them under my desk
but I refuse to eye the key
where do you get the audacity
to touch and give advice to one as old as me
my feelings belong to me
not the wild underside of a rooting pig
hunt them mercilessly with your arsenal instead
as your mother-Aphrodite
inspires their sloshed pursuit of an obscured truth
put your maquillage on them
and clear your mind of mischievous foolishness
or vain undersanding
Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.

After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.

That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.

Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.

How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.

They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.
Uncharacteristic of her;
She's been wearing vintage love garment
Over her deep wounds and scars of hate,
To tame all her demons from,
Tearing them apart, in broad day light.
Jesus! her demeanor is elegantly beautiful.

Copyright|McDaniels Gyamfi
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not

Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly

We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always

Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding

Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid

All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing

Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems

Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred

This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme

Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound

Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would
Be without it
He materializes in white, as though from cloud
out of petals and vines--bright ferns whose arms
flower and wrap as though silken angel's yarn
breathing a sheer and layered freckle-shroud

about the capacious canvas of his back
in an uncharacteristic ceremony of purity or bliss.
So capricious a beloved yet elicits a dual image
in the mind of her who's also seen him black.
© K.E. Parks, 2012
Hal Loyd Denton Aug 2012
Bedazzled Dreamer

Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound
Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would
Be without it
Lunar Luvnotes Oct 2015
I was just having a couple glasses of pinot with my coworker in a bar right by my hostel, a bar with a giant mosaic owl on the wall outside, with his watchful eyes fixed on downtown San Francisco,
when a man bought the whole bar a round, something said friend identified as
a mind eraser.
"The kalua in the bottom pleasantly coats your throat, its that they're delicious that's makes them dangerous." A lovely little factoid from my favorite painter/server/bartender.

The night to follow ironically, was a deep soul connection I won't soon forget, or probably ever.
The drunken buyer stumbles over using my shoulder as an arm rest and says,
"focus on the new,
I always say."
Thats just what I needed to hear I tell him, thanks. We leave the bar, she gets in her uber, its back to the road, I'll mosey on my own,
all alone.

I mosey over and up the alley and ask
the man smoking,
do you know where the hostel is? Right there he says, pointing behind me.
I plop down beside him on the curb and get my pipe out, "oh no, not here, they'll kick you out."
"I paid them fifty dollars already, they're not kicking me no where," I say matter of factly.

The conversation twists and turns to different continents and then returns to the alley, to right where we're sitting.
"Im worried about you"
he divulges. And why is that? Because you're already drunk, why should you need to get high too?
Bc Im on the run, from me you see, I just like my crossfaded path. But if you really must know, this is not my MO.

Im probably just trying to distract him with his own good looks, "why are you so handsome?"
He really is. "I dont know, my parents just made me and here I am."
There you are, I say. He looks at me deeply and I do the same. I cant quite help myself, Im being drawn in.

I know he wants to kiss me but as much as I can grasp that primal energy and tie a string onto it like a baloon, something is stopping me, and that is
reality,
that he cannot fill the
you
shaped hole in my heart. So I sit up straight and just smile, so he smiles too.

I dont want to like you, but I do. And why dont you want to like me?
"Because you," he sighs, "are a roller coaster."
Thank you! I say emphatically, I love them SO much!
Lets smoke on the street, your being loud, they'll come kick us out.

When we sit on the sidewalk against the building I put his arm around me, cuz Im lonely and I know he'll let me. A *** walks by and says, thats a beautiful woman you have, he smiles contentedly and replies isnt she? My eyes are watering and I don't know why they're not stopping.

I think of telling him I'm still in love with you, but that's not really true. Cuz I'm in love with your soul, and he's not always you. I cant explain it away I say I can't shake someone and I feel stuck in gray area. Thats all the info he needs to go off on a tangent  he says love is black and white, and theres no excuses. Love is just love and it has to be enough. You have to let it go, I  look up and tell him I knows he's right and that I'm just drunk.

Its not til I pass out on him that I realize something is wrong with me, that I prefer to cling to company in the street, to his protective energy, rather than pursue his friendship in daylight. Where are my boundaries or my demure subtlety?

He says he's a "long termer" and so check outs not at ten for him, like it is for me, cuz it's five AM now you see,
"why don't we meet at breakfast, and you can sleep in, I'll be running errands, you can have my whole bed to yourself." That's sweet of him but it's a slippery *****. "Thanks" I smile and I'm off to my own bed.

I overslept and never saw him again. I thought of exchanging numbers but deep in my head, I knew I can't slip into another abyss, instead I set sail off to my future, I could have lingered to find that Earthy long termer, afterall I felt so safe with him, part of me relented to picturing us past that night, and the other part knew it's not smart to light a fire with no container, I let things burn too bright just to outshine the former. Well, anyway, that's not me anymore.

I'm a thinker now, and I think as long as I still love you, I'd ruin that poor fool.
No amount of handsome, or rich, or clever or nurturing could replace you.
That is why I'll wait, until however long it may take, to move on until it's not moving on, but moving forward to the light. Til there's no more drunken nights of wondering if you're still in limbo, if you're ever coming home into yourself. I want to be so far past wonder or caring that I'm sure, very sure about the next man I pounce upon. I dont care most the time as it is, its the remainder that kills me. No man deserves to be second best, runners up that I entertain just cuz they're nice to look at, and because of their familiar touch my soul already knows too well to refuse.

No, I'm quite done running. I'm hitting my stride of alone time, and one day my swag will carry me into a future lifetime of not acting on impulse, but immeasurable knowing, that I'm not just reinstating, or replacing, not distracting, but doubling down and betting that we aren't running from any ghosts, only running into eachothers arms, cuz we can't stand to be apart. That's what I want to know. That sort of love. That doesn't just write me poetry after I'm gone, but seizes every moment. I dont have time for anything less. Until I'm ready I'll keep letting go and  relenting to your memory that keeps me from moving on. Only I dont want to want you or any man.

I've ducked many men that find me in obscure measures, as if fate keeps pushing us back together, when I wish at times to be through with your whole species forever.

I'm not ready I said,
to that kindred soul with his shining chivalry, his French accent, and even more French name that I cant remember, Its written somewhere on a scratch piece of paper. His gaze was so ****, especially cuz it was genuine, I'd ruin him.
He insisted he give me all his ****, and his number I never texted.

I'm not ready I said in my head, to the one I never contacted, that left a note on my car making a fuss about my eyes just cuz I smiled at him. He was **** too, and from Santa Cruz, the note said, but he did kinda look like a convict. In anycase, I'm not ready.

They like to smile and stare and I smile back, half the kitchen calls me mama in their accents, Latin men are mamas boys and I love it, their fire and water is my sonnet. I wield my words when I sing, my favorite most handsome cook likes to say Oh My God in an awe filled sort of way just cuz my hair falls down or the rare sight of my hips shaking to the music when I wait for the plates Im taking and I just can't contain it. I laugh because bewitching is my favorite hobby. Solamente aveces.. I wonder .. if he has a novia, pero no estoy listo..

I wonder if the young business man, hungry for my eye contact, whose gaze is not non chalant, following me like a watchful dog, is too GQ and tall and handsome to be marriage material, by which I mean faithful.. I smirk with uncharacteristic confidence, but then there's a blonde showing up for him. Whatever, I wasnt ready anyway.

The list goes on and on, but I do not yet..

I'm not ready.

But
when I am,
I'll know .
Knowledge is power. Self-knowledge  is the apex of existence, and the door to true love.
john p green Jan 2016
Simply seeking solace in bouncing thoughts
Feeling warmth in that cold rock
Characterizing an uncharacteristic dribble
Watching it flow with no discourse
Or even disguising a movement to share
A leaf finds its mark now one wagers thought
Dogs bark rattles empty can in alleyway
Moonlight disects that churning in passerbys charts
While blowing winds shift around reason
Heavy hearts languish at the next whistle stop
Many will board to simply stare back
At others who dare when not to park
david mungoshi Apr 2016
the temperatures are devilish tonight
  made in hell's antithetical brewery
from whence uncharacteristic blasts of cold air
   fly at those who are poorly-clad
so make this ghoulish frost in my heart go away
hold me against your body and pat my back tenderly
tell me it's all right to suffer the sting of the elements
on a night like this when my imagination runs riot
and i see apparitions leering at me from worlds unknown
so dear favoured one,do make the cold go away this night
and rescue my being from the doldrums of apocalyptic nightmares
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not

Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly

We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always

Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding

Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid

All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing

Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems

Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred

This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme

Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound

Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would
Be without it
wordvango Jul 2014
mess around deep funk happens,
anonymously,
just about evenly.

you've got to know by now
some experiments turn out
to prove that the theories were wrong.

You could fly like a
dove, or land splat,
barren of love,
uncharacteristic of
energies shove..

running with abandon all people taste
like chicken, carbon statistic-
that mansions are often built with bones-
and when I lose my sanity, I know,
at least I will have seen.
Allison Rose Oct 2013
We were kids again in the dark,
Standing on a hill and looking at the lights of the city;
Shining pin ****** are easily digestible when the magnitude of the world gets you down.
Infinity begins where the sky is darkest,
and the stars, unmarred by light, shine in brilliant multitude.
Breaths of cherry smoke and drying straw
Are still invisible in the uncharacteristic warmth of a night in October.
What kind of pictures would you draw
If you could pick the stars from the sky and rearrange their order?
What kind of constellations would we make if we dove into night’s great infinity
And shone like city lights glimmering against the velvet blackness of it all?
Shailendra N Mar 2010
When the mundane routine beckons
An uncharacteristic tremor is desired
Yet, I turn my back on the door
All I get from running is tired

Making my own path through the fields
Turning to see no one around me
A silhouette approaching from the sun
Against the wind I flee

Transfixed at the sight from way up above,
of the benign waves caressing the shore
Unable to take the step that I should
Unable to bear the thought for a second more

Shielding my eyes from the piercing truth
Eternally existing in blunt display
I close my eyes, and surrender to ignorance
All I seem to be doing is running away
Amanda Stoddard Nov 2015
I trust that these hands will break-
that the crevice of your smile
will turn into a crack upon the impact
of my lips upon your cheeks
but do not cry.
For the only mark I have left in your life
is that of a scar.
Never the girl you marry,
only the one you admire
and aspire to one day acquire
but ambiance is a con artist
the way the room feels good and warm
doesn't mean there hasn't been tragedy there.
I am too hung up, to be so rung out to dry
and I hate this feeling that has been given to me.
The wind had sought my insides
and everything is a mess now.
Don't put a label on me
for that will only taint the way things are now
never deserving of more than the shadows
never in the spotlight long enough to be seen.
You are ever-changing and I am in need of consistency.
But I am no hero of this novella
this short-winded fiction novel
you write upon your lips as if it is just letters on a page
but to me, this is non-fiction
to me, this is everyday.
You wear this mask like it is a coat of armor
but I have hung it up once again
and you don't like that you see yourself in me.
Hurt is the only thing I seem to know
and they all run the other direction
when the walls come down
and my true colors are painted out instead
they realize the setting is different now-
the ambiance isn't what it was before
and this novel just had an uncharacteristic plot twist.
Now you have trouble predicting the outcome
you think too much, and don't feel enough
and that's been my entire life.
No longer the girl you put a ring upon-
just one you put a bet upon and hope you don't lose
and when you win, once you see how good it feels
you run fast in the other direction because of the obligation.
Intimidation tactics are found in the dark circles under my eyes
and trouble is etched in the curve of my smile-
I have yet to find someone who dies to keep me,
one who realizes I am a novel worth reading.
But I am only worth a few pages before they have had enough of me.
They try and try to rewrite what's inside-
but you can't taint print on paperbound.
EJ Aghassi Dec 2014
something is wrong here
i don't know the snow
but there is a reason for
it's return, there must be

the pale faces carelessly
scattered about, smacking
pavement with haunting
heads obscured and
influenced by the severely
storming winds

i've learned to find reason in the mundane

though i don't know how that translates
into uncharacteristic weather patterns

i want what i'm after
i'm distracted by crystal orbs of longing
i want my tires to skid out from under me
i want to be buried in snow

there's a reason it falls now
i'll happily crawl to my end
though i shiver i long for more
i'll freeze but i need it
i've awakened in a snowstorm

i must embrace frozen fate
it's been almost a decade
The coach signaled timeout and called the team to the sidelines.  There were eight minutes left in the biggest game of their lives, and they would be playing for three minutes with a severe disadvantage.  They had committed a succession of penalties within a span of less than 60 seconds, and they would now be playing without three men on the field.  In lacrosse this is referred to as ‘Man Down.’  

Usually it’s only ‘One Man Down,’ or at the most, ‘Two Men Down,’ but few watching that day had ever seen a team go ‘Three Men Down.’  This meant that their star goalie T.J. Braxton was only going to have three defenders in front of him instead of the usual six.

T.J. had been playing great, but he now had to play for two minutes with three men missing in front of him and then the third minute still missing one. It was going to seem like an eternity.  The coach looked over at T.J. and he was standing off to the side by himself not wanting to either look or talk to anyone during the intermission.  The coach understood this behavior because he had been a goalie himself and decided to leave T.J. alone — totally immersed within his own thoughts.

As they did the cheer to break the huddle, it was for their goalie …”1, 2, 3, Go T.J.”  What would happen now brought more pressure than any goalie should ever have to withstand.  Even going just ‘One Man Down’ would in many cases result in a goal for the other team.  Going ‘Two Men Down’ almost ensures the other team a goal, and anything beyond that just puts your goalie at the mercy of the shooters on the other team.

    And Tonight There Would Be No Mercy To Be Found

T.J. already had 18 saves up to this point with only half a quarter left to play in regulation. Saves are when a goalie either blocks or deflects an offensive shot from the other team. He had only let in three goals all game, and the score was tied at 3-3.  

Pennhurst was a powerful public school with large and fast athletes.  They had not been playing lacrosse as long as T.J.’s private (all-boys) school, Haverland Academy, but their natural athletic ability and inner toughness were making up for any experience lost.  

T.J. would have to defend his goal missing three men in front of him for two minutes and then missing one man for the next sixty seconds.  It was his team’s possession coming out of the timeout, and it was all they could do being so shorthanded to even get the ball across the mid-field line.  The coach’s tactic was not to shoot the ball now but to stall and to try and take as much time off the clock as they could until they could get more players back on the field.  T.J. stood rock solid in the center of the ‘crease’ in front of his goal and looked squarely at the goalie at the other end of the field. The ‘crease’ was the large circle surrounding the goal that no offensive player from the other team could enter. He seemed to not be following the ball and his coach wondered what was going on inside his head.

Playing goalie is 80% mental, and he was hoping his star goalie wasn’t going to have a melt down when his team needed him the most.  T.J. would normally be very active inside his own goal shouting instructions to the defensemen in front of him and trying to best position them for the oncoming attack.    

               Something ‘Seemed’ Different Tonight

T.J. had entered a new zone, one that he had never been in before, and one that only he could understand.  As Haverland’s lead attackman charged the opposing goal, the ball fell out of his stick. It was immediately picked up by the opposing goalie and ‘cleared’ to a midfielder standing outside and to his left.  The midfielder made one more pass to an attackman, and the ball was coming T.J.’s way with only three defenders in front of him to help stop the charge. The ball was again passed to one of their senior captains and their strongest midfielder.  

He juked left as he faked a pass and then as he cradled the ball wildly, he headed straight toward T.J. in the goal.  When he got within fifteen feet of the goal he stopped, set his feet, and with a violent and twisting motion fired an overhand shot across his right shoulder at the ground two feet in front of where T.J. now stood.

T.J. was now eighteen and a half and had been playing goalie since he was seven years old.  He had seen and defended almost every kind of shot and from every angle in those eleven years. He had just never had to do it before with almost no defense in front of him.  As the shot left the midfielders stick, T.J. reacted.  He took two steps forward and was able to scoop the ball out of the air at ankle height before it was able to bounce off the ground. Bounce shots were more difficult to save, and his accumulated instinct and experience allowed him to get this one and at least for now keep the score tied at 3-3.

T.J. ran behind his own goal toward the end line. With the ball in his stick he was trying to take time off the clock.  Only one opposing player chased him, and he was able to do a 180-degree spin, avoid that player, and run back out in front of his goal.  He then cleared the ball, the entire length of the field, to a midfielder standing in the far left corner.  T.J.’s team had the ball within thirty feet of the opposing goal with only two minutes left to run in penalty time.

T.J.’s offense decided it was time to step up and play big.  They managed to take a full minute off the clock with uncanny passing until the referee finally called stalling and gave the ball back to the other side.

As the ball came back in T.J’s direction, two of his penalized players retook the field.  They were now playing with only a ‘one man down’ disadvantage and for only sixty more seconds.

The opposing team set up in a perimeter in front of his goal passing the ball from man to man and then behind T.J.’s goal in an attempt to unbalance a still weakened defense.  As the ball went behind the net, T.J. rotated inside the crease never taking his eye off the ball.  He thought they were setting him up for something sneaky because his fundamental blocking skills on normal shots were so strong. More than anything he didn’t want to give up a cheap goal, and he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out that his suspicions had been correct.

As they passed the ball back and forth behind his goal, an attackman turned and tried to lob the ball over the back of the goal, and T.J.’s stick, to an opposing midfielder who was charging the front of the goal from about twenty-five-feet away.  They were hoping to catch T.J. mesmerized in what was going on behind the net and then reverse field and go in the one direction no one ever expected — over the back of the goal.  

It didn’t work!  As the ball left the midfielders stick, T.J. jumped high in the air and intercepted the pass in the shooting strings of his goalie stick.  He then spun around and ran directly to the out of bounds line to his right. It was beyond the defensive box, and he stood there waiting for someone to challenge him.  He was again trying to take precious seconds off the clock to get his team back to full strength. Although a goalie, T.J. was the fastest player on his team and that speed was like money in the bank to a team that was struggling and in trouble with time running out.

He managed to get the penalty down to twenty two seconds before he finally dished the ball off to another long stick defender and then quickly moved back in front of his goal.  That defensemen got across midfield just before another penalty would have occurred for not advancing the ball.  With only seventeen seconds left on the penalty, the offense passed the ball to the four corners looking for a man who was ‘hot’ (open) who could take the shot and finally break the tie.  With only three seconds left in the penalty their best attackman, John Erasmus, took the ball in his stick and with his left hand fired a side angle shot at the right side of the goal.  It was a great shot, but their goalie made a heroic save. He was also a senior and had transferred into Pennhurst two years ago from a Lacrosse powerhouse school in northern Maryland.

With both teams now at full strength, the ball went back and forth for the final five minutes with very few shots taken at either end.  The ones that were taken were weak and from great distance, and both goalies easily picked them up and started the ball going the other way.  Each shot was critical now because the game was tied with time running out.  Possession was more important than losing the ball to the other team by taking a poor shot.  As the lights shone brightly high above the scoreboard, time ran out in regulation.  The game would now go to sudden death overtime, and it would become about the strength of the face-off men and how hot each goalie was going to be.

    It Was Now About The Face-Off Man And The Goalies

In sudden death, the first team to score wins!  No second chances here it’s do or die time, and everything is amped up to an entirely new level.  Many times, the winner of the face off at midfield wins the game because everything is geared towards that one shot, and the pressure on the opposing goalie is tremendous.  Unless the goalie can isolate himself in a ‘zone of invincibility,’ the chances of blocking a shot in overtime due to a lost face off are not very good.  Just like in the NFL, where the coin toss often determines the winner in overtime, the face-off is like that coin toss only with skill and not luck determining the winner.  T.J. thought back to all the coaches and mentors that had brought him to where he was standing tonight.  They were all somewhere up in the stands, and they were all living and dying with him tonight in the goal.

      T.J. Decided That Tonight It Would Be About Life

The Captains met at the middle of the field as the referee explained the rules of sudden death.  All who were listening thought that the term was aptly named.  They shook hands again and ran back to the huddles on their respective sidelines.  Both coaches gave their overtime strategies to their teams, and they did one more cheer before retaking the field.  Both face off men walked slowly toward each other at the center mid-field line and stared each other directly in the eye.  

The physical disparity between the two players at mid-field was huge.  Haverland’s best face off man, George Arle, was 5’6’’ tall and 160 lbs. Pennhurst’s face off man, B.J. Radford, had been an All-State quarterback on the football team and was 6’3’’ and 225 lbs.  Although Lacrosse was not his primary sport,  he had played it for the last four years and by anyone’s account he was a ‘stud player.’  The skill in taking face offs is unlike any other in Lacrosse.  It’s more similar to recovering a fumble in football or picking up a loose five-dollar bill dropped on the floor in Penn Station in New York.  It’s uncontrolled mayhem with the skill to do it only evident to those who have been there. And it’s those players who know painfully well what it takes to win the fight for the ball.

Although T.J.’s face off man George had had a good season, he always struggled against players that were that much bigger than him and usually lost the ball.  The ref. positioned the ball between the two boys sticks who were both crouched down and ready at mid-field.  The whistle blew, and George lost the ball as B.J. picked it up and charged right over George’s left shoulder.  He was headed in a straight line right toward T.J. who was standing fixed and ready in front of his goal.  B.J. passed the ball to a midfielder who kept it only a second before passing it to an attackman who was off to the right of the goal.  The attackman looked to his left and faked a pass to his right.  He then spun around and with all his might fired a bounce shot on an angle from the right facing side of Haverland’s goal.  

T.J. stepped forward, scooped the ball up on the first bounce, and in one fluid motion flipped the ball out to a defenseman on the left perimeter. This player cradled it inside his long stick as he took off down the sideline and across midfield.  The defenseman made a pass to a middie on the extreme other side of the field who then passed to an attackman. This man ran around behind the net and came out on the other side in front of the goal, shot the ball, but it went wide right.  The other team was closest to the ball when it went out of bounds, so it was Pennhurst’s possession, and it was coming back T.J.’s way.

Their goalie cleared the ball left to a long stick defenseman, who in turn made a long pass directly to an attackman, and the ball was once again in the oppositions stick less than thirty feet from the goal T.J. was defending.  This attackman had no intention of passing.  He put his head down and charged straight ahead toward T.J.  As his coach was screaming at him to pass, and it the midst of five defensive players, he fired off a shot.  It came at a side angle, and, with all of the players surrounding the shooter, it was hard for T.J. to see the ball come off the kid’s stick.  

When T.J. finally did see the ball, it had passed the head of his stick, and he was just able to get a piece of the ball with the bottom of his shaft. It was just enough to deflect the ball upwards and over the goal and into the chain link fence fifty feet behind the crease.  On instinct alone, T.J. ran after the ball and being closest to it when it went out of bounds, he picked it up in his stick and slowly walked forward. This gave his midfielders time to transition back up to the other end of the field.

T.J. was living on borrowed time.  Making one save in overtime was huge, but making two, and one with only the shaft of his stick to save it all, was stretching the limits of whatever luck the team had left.  T.J. easily passed the ball to an unguarded defenseman who ‘walked’ the ball up-field and then tossed it to a midfielder just in front of the offensive box.  

The offensive box is the restrained and shorter ‘boxed-out’ area right in front of the goalie and where most shots are taken, and most goals are scored. The midfielder made a pass to his left to an attackman, who tried to make a long looping pass across the face of the box, but it was intercepted by one of the oppositions long stick middies and passed quickly to another midfielder as it transitioned back again towards T.J. This time the ball was coming straight at T.J., and it had taken less than five seconds to get there.  His team was not set yet and this charge could be the end of it all.

T.J.’s team had been caught napping in an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty.  Pennhurst’s top midfielder again had the ball, and he was charging at T.J. who had only two players set and not the normal six in front of him to play defense.

Surprisingly to T.J., this player then made a pass to the extreme right corner and that attackman ran behind T.J.’s goal giving his defense more time to reset.  This player then made a pass to the left side, and it was once again in the stick of their best midfielder, Matt Makritis.  Midfielders, or Middies, as they’re often called are many times the best athletes on the team.  They have to play both offense and defense and run the entire length of the field while their shift is on. Makritis was a high school All-American, and he was charging at full speed toward the left front facing side of T.J.’s goal.

                       T.J. Was An All-American Too!

T.J. was also an All-American and had recently been on the front cover of ‘Inside Lacrosse Magazine’ and featured as the #1 player coming out of High School Lacrosse that year.  He thought to himself that all of that press would be meaningless if he allowed this shot to go in.  The opposing midfielder continued toward the crease unguarded, got within ten feet of the goal, and fired point blank at T.J.  No fancy bounce shots or behind the back this time.  This shot was straight at T.J.’s head, and from less than ten feet away. T.J. caught the ball in the fat part of his goalie sticks net.  It didn’t stay there though.  The power of the shot caused it to come out of his stick, in what is referred to as a rebound, as it rolled ten or twelve feet out in front of the goal.

A second midfielder then picked up the ball, and not lifting it from the ground, fired a shot right back at T.J. This was more like a golf shot than a lacrosse shot, and T.J. struggled to see from which direction the ball was coming.  As the ball came back at T.J. at a severe angle, headed toward the left backside of the net, he stretched his body out like a goalie in the NHL.  Doing a full split in front of the net, he was able to get a piece of the ball with his right cleat and deflect the ball off to the left side of the goal. As the ball rolled harmlessly toward the far side of the endline, the referee blew his whistle.  The first three-minute overtime period had ended.

    They Had Survived Sudden Death For Three Minutes

Both teams huddled tightly with their coaches and trainers.  This time though, T.J. didn’t leave the crease at all.  He was leaning against the goal with his back turned to the field. It was almost as if he was talking to someone you couldn’t see and totally immersed in a world of his own.  There are several times in a man’s life that define and underline not only who he is, but who he will then become.  This was one of those times for T.J.

                                 And He Knew It

Both teams wearily took the field.  The pressure of an extremely tight game, and then surviving one overtime period, had taken its toll.  As the face-off men bent low and readied for the ball, T.J.’s back was still facing the field.  When he heard the whistle blow he spun around and it was like someone twice his 6’2’’ size was playing goalie.  He seemed to fill the entire net with his presence and there was an ‘aura’ coming from him that surrounded the entire defensive end of the field.

Once again, George lost the face off to the All-State quarterback and star midfielder, B.J. Radford.  This time however, the look on B.J.’s face was different.  Although fairly new to Lacrosse, inside his chest beat the heart of a champion.  He almost stepped on George as he picked up the ball and headed straight over the mid-field line and directly at T.J.  This senior captain had no intention of passing, and he was going to ‘ice’ the game for his teammates and fans.  B.J. was not known as a great shooter but more for his defensive skills. He was a great athlete though, and this charge was not to be taken lightly by anyone on the defensive end of the field.  

                 B.J. Knew This Was His Moment

Without stopping or setting his feet, he raised his stick above his head and shot the ball toward the right corner of the net at over ninety miles an hour.  T.J. saw this one all the way and caught the ball in his stick.  He then ran out of the goal and passed B.J. who was still coming his way as he charged past him and headed straight down the field.  T.J. was out of the defensive box and headed toward the mid-field line.  He was looking at nothing in front of him except the opposing goalie who was now staring at him with an incredulous look on his face inside the opposing crease.

Everyone there that night had their mouth’s open in awe.  No one expected the goalie to ever make the final break, and no one watching had ever seen a goalie possessed with such speed.  The other team was in awe too and just kept watching him run. They were all guarding open men who they were sure T.J. would eventually pass the ball to.

                                  He Didn’t Pass

When he crossed the midfield line, the fans went wild and stood up.  One of his midfielders had the presence of mind to stay back behind the midfield line so that an offsides wouldn’t be called.  In Lacrosse, you always need at least three men back plus the goalie in the defensive end.  Once T.J. crossed midfield, one of the midfielders had to stay back.

T.J. approached the offensive box in front of their goalie with only one thing on his mind.  He had been acutely watching this kid all day and he had noticed one thing.  This was a fundamentally sound and ‘play up’ goalie and one would who would rise to the occasion when the heat was on.  He had transferred into Pennhurst only two years ago and based on his great skill, he had gotten them this far.  He had one weakness though that T.J. had observed — he couldn’t handle the off-speed shots, especially over his left shoulder.

The left shoulder is opposite the goalie stick’s head if you’re right handed. In his case, the only weakness that T.J. had seen,
other than his struggle with off-speed shots, were those directed high up and left.  Like a changeup in baseball, the off-speed shot often confused the goalie’s timing and could cause him to over or under react at just the right time.  T.J. continued to charge the goal.

By this time, two defensemen from Pennhurst were running from both sides to get to T.J. before he could shoot, but his speed was too much.  As he approached the crease from the right side, he raised his stick above his head.  He threw his lower right elbow at the goalie as if executing a shot.  His stick-head never moved, but the goalie bit on the fake.  He waved the head of his stick high right and then easily lobbed the ball over the Pennhurst goalie’s left shoulder.  The referee blew the whistle — the game was over —and T.J.’s team had finally won.

The other goalie dropped to his knees and then put both hands on the ground in front of him.  T.J. went over and picked him up saying: “You may have lost on the scoreboard tonight, but you never gave up. I’m proud to have played against you.”

Haverland had just won the State Championship, and most watching said it was the greatest goalie performance at any level that they had ever seen.  T.J. was voted ‘Most Valuable Player’ of the game. In the fall, he would be off to a top 10 Lacrosse University where he would major in Criminal Justice and take his goalie skills to an even higher level.

T.J.’s coach told him after the game that you can play lacrosse for your entire lifetime and never be able to play or recreate what you just did.  His future college coach, who had been in the stands watching, came down on the field and put his arm around T.J. after the game and told him the same thing.  He went on to say: “T.J., I had my whole speech ready before you went into overtime.  I thought I might have to come down here and tell you that although you lost — you lost really well.

   T.J. Did Not Want To Believe That Losing Well Was Really Possible!

“You had made all those heroic saves throughout the game for your team, and if you had to lose, it would have been a great way to do it.  The only problem with my prepared speech is that you didn’t lose. As I watched you in the goal with your back turned to the field as the second overtime period started, I said to my assistant coach Dave, who’s over talking to your folks, that our new and future goalie is in a zone that few can ever get to.  He will not be scored on again tonight.  Tonight, and for however long this game lasts — he is truly invincible. And I don’t believe I’ve ever used that word to describe a player before.”

Many years passed and one day T.J got an email from his old high school coach.  The coach told him that once again his school, Haverland, would be playing for the State Championship and he wanted to run his pre-game speech by T.J. before his boys took the field.  It was short and to the point.  What he wanted to tell the boys was: “It wouldn’t be the number of players on the field but who those players were and what was coming from inside their hearts that would make all the difference.”  He then went on to tell the story of T.J. in the State Championship Game that took place over ten years before.  

Some of the boys had heard the story, but all were in awe listening to the emotion and passion in their coach’s voice as he retold the story again.  It was like replaying that game with the current Haverland players and right before the most important game that most of them would ever play.  

Haverland won the State Championship again that day and many of the boys said that it was the pre-game speech about T.J. and his team’s overtime victory that fueled their desire and commitment to make it happen.  It was also a close game, and with two minutes to go the score was again tied. Five times during the game they had gone ‘one-man’ down but had only allowed one goal to be scored during those five uneven possessions by the other team.  Haverland was then able to strip the ball from their opponent twice in the final two minutes and convert both into scores — ending the game at 7-5.

Along a lonely hallway in the back of Haverland’s new athletic center hangs a plaque with the story of that night so many years ago.  But to T.J., and all the members of that legendary team, the thing that hangs highest — is their refusal to lose.

The possibility of being invincible would stay inside T.J. and all who were there to watch him play that night. He learned that at the end of the streak where luck ends, sometimes you have to enter that zone …

                                 And Just ‘Will It’ To Happen.
Carlota gamboa Sep 2014
It’s all very elusive, by nature I believe
Such things aren’t easily avoided, like carrying guns in pockets so deep you loose track
Have you ever woken up too early? And the smell of dew seems like the most important detail thats ever been contemplated on?
You must stop overanalyzing it
There is always more coffee to be made, letters to be written, opinions to morph
Don’t read your battered copy of Jane Eyre swollen with thoughts of self-pity
It’s uncharacteristic
The heat always seems perforable in the cold
Do remember that
Do remember your bad habit of assuming the worse of yourself
Sometimes good luck is just that, not everything must be turned into homicide
Shawn Kangiser Feb 2015
Love was, is, and is to be
Good by it's definition
To Love to destroy is sick
And uncharacteristic, of Love...
     Wouldn't you agree?

What is Good and what is Bad
Comes from what we've Lost and Had.

Fleeting feelings free of form
     For a purpose is adorn.

Love is Still worth all the Risk.
Written sitting on stairs after taking a walk after a rough argument with my Ex.
Q Oct 2016
The waters of the East River were blue,
bluer than I'd ever let myself expect,
bluer than the sky today.

The sight of the lights and shadows
Swimming over the passengers wasn't something
I'd known I was missing.

A few uncharacteristic craning necks;
I wasn't the only one
Newly displaced from below-ground.

Outside,
It was bright enough to color-blind;
The view from the window
For one moment
Rendered a monochrome tableau
Of New York's industrial past.

Then the red brick buildings,
Precarious window units and
Makeshift curtains of every color.

Between these-
Between these--
Heart-stopping views of
Sun-washed streets like rivers,
The sunroofs and food carts
Glinting like silver scales
In the early evening glare.

Each time I surged forward,
Gripped the overhead pole convulsively,
Drank in that view
As greedily as anything;

I'd never loved the city
Like I loved it from fifty feet up.


And the walk home was
Novel from the west;
Suddenly the sidewalks ramble-wide,
Suddenly the parks,
Suddenly the people.

A block from my apartment,
A teenager looped his finger
Through the dangling handle
Of my grocery bag as we passed-
Pulled gently,
Not tugging away,
Leading me into a turn.

We were facing each other then,
Even as our feet carried us in different directions;
"Can't I take you out?"

His youth and my mood made it charming-
His wide eyes and narrow shoulders
Held none of the threat
That comes with a man's stature-
And I couldn't help
But soften the no with a smile
Before carrying on
Towards home.
10/6/16
Cedric McClester Nov 2017
By: Cedric McClester

His silence speaks volumes to me
But that notwithstanding the key
just to be explicit that it’s implicit
Of what his past actions might be
So as this relates to Roy Moore
Who’s rotten right down to the core
He hasn’t gone on record
I know because I checked it

His silence speaks volumes to me
It’s so uncharacteristic ya see
It’s been laid at his feet
But, yet not one tweet
It’s odd behavior indeed
Although we’re pretty much agreed
That there’s nothing on his Twitter feed
Not one quotation we can read

His silence speaks volumes to me
The Donald seems not to be free
To address this issue
See he’d much rather kiss you
Than to say a negative word
The man’s not insane he’s absurd
If the thought just hasn’t occurred
That a statement is what’s preferred

His silence speaks volumes to me
Cos he refuses to cut down that tree
Has he suddenly become shy?
And if he has, tell me why
He doesn’t want to be quoted
See he hasn’t even emoted
Though his response are rarely sugar coated
And are more likely to be bloated





Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.
shooshu Dec 2015
"There was
an uncharacteristic
plot distortion
when
your art
in voodoo
hit upon my
mettled soul
like ******."
#poetry #poem #voodoo #plottwist #****** #love #heartthievery #soul
Steve Page Feb 2017
Colour me optimistic
But I think I'm gonna make it
Gonna take that ridge
And prove to the fatalistics
That nothing's out of reach
If you stick at it
- And you're a little opportunistic.

You say it's not much
But it's all relativistic
So please don't begrudge me
My uncharacteristic
Success this last week:
I did loose a little
weight.
Gulishta Sep 2019
On the journey of finding myself,
                   I found a broken heart.
We went on an adventure together,
                   No questions asked.

We bonded on shared love for music,
            Movies,books and abstract art.
We huddled when the road bumped,
            Then....we drifted apart.

With a constant ache for more,
           We Kept trying to make it last.
An unspoken rule to let go,
            To not think about the future past.

A rocky Mountain,
         With smooth silk lane.
A fresh perspective of storm,
          Just to keep us sane.

An impossible possibility,
        An uncharacteristic faith.
A bond formed with respect,
        No caring for mutual gain.

An attachment. ..or attraction...
                 Didn't know the name.
Just a bug ruptured,
                 Driving us insane.

One couldn't express,
                 One couldn't hide.
Push and pull of desire,
                  Love came in blind.

Few smiles. ...immensely expressive eyes.
One look of naked emotions. ...
The dam broke....and the ice vaporised.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
How DARE you
call me
ANYTHING at all!

What gives you
the right?
Who fed you
sweet lies
and convinced you
“your **** don’t stink”
and you drip
of righteousness?!

SICK...
that’s what
you said, right?

So now I’M sick
merely because
I write and
I’m honest on
these pages,
as I metaphorically
bleed all over
them,
with uncharacteristic
disregard for the mess
I may have made?

Don’t EVER
mistake
poetic sweetness
for mortal weakness.

Maybe YOU’RE
the weak one;
the SICK one.

By the way,
who told you
you could ‘write’...
poetry?

No, I’d really
like to know,
‘cause the gloves
are off.

You started this,
but I will
END it.

I’ll stop here
or I’ll go on
for days,
and do it with a
Cheshire grin
as I tear you
apart.

You wanna see
SICK darlin’?

Come closer...
if you
F**KIN’ DARE!


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
*******...annoyed...offended; yup!
Urmila Nov 2015
The lies you said,
The lies I said to myself,
The ruse,
The abandonment,
The uncharacteristic desperation,
The unexpected separation,
The feigned interest,
The lost respect,
The empty conversation,
The full heart,
I can't tell,
What hurt most

— The End —