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Kathy Z Jul 2013
Today I got a new sketchbook with an embossed leaf on the cover-
saying-"Nature's Best."
And the inside was so white and clean
I was scared to draw in it
to mar the beautiful pages with the unforgiving
mark of a pencil.
Thinking that I wasn't worthy enough,
I didn't deserve
"Nature's Best."

The most beautiful song I've ever heard was sung by a German Choir,
and I remember thinking-
that maybe, German is a beautiful language after all
hidden only under the angry tones
of fighting and ugly
hurtful words.
Vogel im Kaff, it was called.
I'm not sure, but when I used Google translate-
it said-
"Word not found."
Maybe it wasn't in German after all.

And the people who tell me-
"Ugly."
"Fat."
"Why do you even live, anyway?
It's not like you deserve it."
I know. I know that I'm not worth anything
But sometimes, I actually catch myself in the mirror and think-
I look nice
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking that. I'm sorry for hoping,
for believing.
I'm sorry.

And you know that feeling?
When you're in public
frantically searching for the right chord
on a piano song.
Sitting a spotlight undeserved
Playing for people who don't need to hear this
"music"
Like cracking open a egg and accidently mixing the yolk with the white
when you're trying to make a crème cake.
A desperate feeling that's sort of scary
because your brain knows that there's no way out.
I wish all minds had a delete button.

Throwing myself into learning different languages-
I thought that if I could speak
German, French, Italian-
then I would be exalted.
That somehow,
all of that would change my personality,
Who I was.
Guess we all have a "no refund" tag when we're born.

The type of people who-
"Belong everywhere, but don't fit in"
and the type who
"Don't belong anywhere-but fit in anyway-"
Which type am I?
A leafed page of the book,
folded over to conceal ***** words.

You know, if you look at a picture long enough,
what you once thought was beautiful will begin to peel and fade
exposing its unperfected innards.
If it's that scary to look at something already "satisfying"
what would it be like to look at something not even close to perfection?

Somewhere in the past
you were deeply affected within your interaction
with one of my accounts.  I don't know who you are
(who the person is that is leaving tangible fingerprints
on the keyboard of this account I am speaking to)
..
I can only guess,
but I am fairly sure that my guess is accurate,
     so I will keep all of that to myself,
so that you can freely and without fear of being found out,
go back with me to that place inside of yourself  that felt so well
met and seen back then.

In turn, no more *******, devaluing of love
the way that you do so often at close range.

If you pull that horrendously harmful **** again,
I will pull away again, but this time.. never come back.
That being said, I will not leave you hanging,
(or do my best to not to)  
if you bring  towards me  the need within you..
that through your memory,

you so well believe that I can satisfy
(and you already know that I am not talking about the ******).


You feel the deep, internal response--
from deep within that body of yours,  
when love warmly touches  
previously untouched places within you

And you spin them out publicly right in the midst of our
closeness of interaction (which I think is really cool),
just please don't flay me for showing my humanity
by responding back to you sexually.
I will keep that side to myself,  if that is what it takes
to keep you from throwing me under the bus, yet again.
The ****** (within the closeness of warm, loving connection) --
((even in the world of support..))
that very sensuality so perfectly parallels..  
through physical, tangibly-felt metaphor..
all that there is also within the Realms
when it comes to the spiritual.

Healing of that which has become broken by the fallen
******-up version of love this world brings--
that type of healing and restoration back into wholeness
is what all relational closeness is meant to bring,  and stand for.
You want something that you deeply believe that I have,  
yet somewhere..   maybe in another life..
I must have hurt you deeply,
or you wouldn't be sending  all these finger-puppet forays
my way.

Come and get what you want and need,
and if you believe I am shorting you your rightful blessing  
by missing it..   or simply just being generically stupid,
then instead of flaying me publicly,  
privately come to me  in boldness,
   and shake it out of me--
that which is rightfully yours-- my healing-response.

and do it brazenly,  with a fierce, yet open and vulnerable heart
the way that you have shown in your poems. Maybe in time
you will find out all on your own  
that what you thought was hurtful from me,  was felt
out of perception,  rather than what was actual.
If I really did do something,  tell me what it is
so that I can own up to it and tell you that I am sorry
for ******* everything up that way..
if, in fact.. it was something I really did.

I will only talk to you  from here (my M Vogel account)
so that you can rise and fall
concerning what things you need most from me,  
solely

by the responsibility of you,
and of me.

You already know that I am Paul.
You can call me that,  or M Vogel,
or stupidface..
or any of my other account names if you want,
but get inside of here with me what it is that you came for.

If it is something that I am able to give or be a part of..
then know it will become yours  in time.
  You have the ability..
    even though being spoken to this way
    both wildly turns you on
    and completely scares you shitless

    (and probably both at the same time)
you have  proven,  through your posted words  
that you are actually able to be a part of   and do,
what has for so long  felt so horribly distant from you,
   and so horrendously impossible for you to attain.
You have earned every single part of this very rightful place
that you now have in here with me.

Please don't stupidly **** it up the way that you so well
and so often do.
You are brilliant, girl. We both know that.
Stupid things are possible because your world has had learn
to be so incredibly indirect in order to survive.
What has saved you up until now,  out there..
will destroy everything for you,   in here.
But you are human, and rendering old things   dead
may be too much to ask for.. so I will tell you now--

that even  if within your broken, PTSD-filter--
you make a mess of the closeness--  at close range..
then with poetry, find your way back into my heart--
by speaking solely from yours  as you have.
**** me over too insincerely and callously  without remorse,
and you yourself will have stolen  you--  directly from
that of the deepest of places within my own heart.

Your call, kid..
You are not a little 14 year old  clad in combat boots anymore.
Yours is a living, breathing heart--
left withering  within the dry desert of indirectness
that you have  been forced up until now  to live in.

Every single day the sun comes up, anew. Those words mean
everything to you for a reason.
Through love and accountability,  breathe life in to them.

That is how you will make them real.

Let him know that you know best
'Cause after all, you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
without granting, innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong--
the things you've told him all along

And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

As he begins to raise his voice
you lower yours,
and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road

or break with the ones that you've followed

He will do one of two things..
he will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
and you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong
(I lost a friend)
Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

https://youtu.be/5R4VE3sewoE?t=38


um, yourself
you gorgeous little ****  <3
M Vogel Jan 2021
Feb 27


"Dear, complete and total *******, M Vogel:

Your account will be back to normal on Oct 27.

Because our moderators have reviewed and agreed with the members' concerns about your work, this suspension cannot be reconsidered.

Please read FAQs for more information..


Why did this happen?
'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago


Please try to get in line with the quality and moral character of all our other writers on the site, or kindly ****."


Love,
HP Moderation
(site de-scumbagging division)


"Hmmm..?"
~M Vogel

youtu.be/uXEUW792etk



"umm..
I created this for children;; Children... understand?"

~Elliot

youtu.be/54OYS_mZlBE


Mmphh
whats all this dir--...
https://youtu.be/oudNoKfNUfs
M Vogel Jan 2022
sweet lord, girl..

I like the way your brain moves its thoughts  into its own deeper
realms with each thing said. You have that rare gift of being able to
be your own internal/external Muse.. even while midstream within
the process of writing it all out.

Alone.. maybe more than you may think you want to be, you are
never lonely. A very rare thing indeed in the modern world, kid.

Very unique, and very very special.
(It is very much the truth..)

I would always hope for the gifted ones such as yourself,  that you
would always and ever-increasingly be able to see your own
worthiness in yourself in being chosen to be a bearer of such a
wonderful gift. Kierkegaard was a chosen recipient such as you
(your rare mind's unfolding thought processes are in ways, much
like his), and through his own beautiful self-love, became.. through
his stewardship of the gift, the father of Existentialism. He felt the
Living Word within him, causing his wonderous mind to feel also,
through thought.. which in turn, churned deeply  his
forever-goldmining heart, which in turn, mused his mind into deeper processings of the deeply-felt word's expressions--

ever-cycling.. ever churning within him,  until every cell within his
electrified body became fully lit..

And out onto paper it all went.. as what was so beautifully
self-Mused within him was brought out from an internally-lit
darkness and into the full light of day. The deeply-searching, in you
is in relationship with the gifted Magical  in you,
(which is also so very much you [the gifts are irrevocable]),
bringing out words and concepts/thought processes pretty much
previously unknown here in this world. Make your own self-Love..
self forgiveness.. self-acceptance, and self understanding.. all your Art..

And it will be your art that most blesses this world down here.
You've already got the goods, kid.. watch them become greatly
clarified in you as your own self-Love becomes your own finest art.
The gift, you already have-- clear as clear can be. Shame and
condemnation are powerful enough down here to make even the
most purest of pure, become obscure.

Mm.
Yeah, kid..

"In the end..
The Love you take (in)
Is equal to
The Love,  you make"


Make your own self love, your goal-- surround yourself with
loving truthtellers who will love you for who you truly are..  rather
than what they want you to be (or think you should be)  for them.

Clearly you are worth every single bit of it all.

~Paul
(preston
M Vogel
F Unting Somethingoranother)



The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Was a couple of guys who'd been friends since grade school
One was named Cyrus, the other was Jeff
And they practiced twice a week in Jeff's bedroom

The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Never settled on a name..
But the top three contenders after weeks of debate
      Were Satan's Fingers,
      ..and The Killers,

       and The Hospital Bombers

Jeff and Cyrus believed in their hearts
They were headed for stage lights and lear jets and fortune and fame
So in script that made prominent use of a pentagram
They stenciled their drum heads and guitars with their names

And this was how Cyrus got sent to the school
Where they told him he'd never be famous
And this was why Jeff, in the letters he'd write to his friend
Helped develop a plan to get even

When you punish a person for dreaming his dream
Don't expect him to thank or forgive you
The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Will in time,  both outpace and outlive you
Hail Satan
Hail Satan, tonight
Hail Satan
Hail, hail

https://youtu.be/AGHmr1NyBTw
god bless the beautiful hospital bomber in us all
Lucky Queue May 2013
Ich will frei sein
Ich will mit Vogel fliegen
Ich will die Sterne küssen
Ich will Gedicht über alles schreiben
Ich will mit die Engeln leben
Aber kann ich nur jetzt schlafen
Aber werde ich nur jetzt traümen

I want to be free
I want to fly with birds
I want to kiss the stars
I want to write poems about everthing
I want to live with the angels
But I can only sleep now
But I will only dream now
preston Mar 2022

I wrote that to you..

from the waiting room of my eye doctor
but I didn't know it sent. I was grinding on my jeep Sunday
and got a piece of metal in my eye the size of a farm tractor,

    but all is well after this second visit  👀

A couple of reasons for the multiple accounts..
Originally started as my way of satiring the many people
on the site that use multiple accounts to put likes and
comments on their own work in order to make it trend..
or even make the 'daily'..
or to stroke themselves  with compliments
so horrendously..  uh, dishonestly.
But me being the battle-hardened, ******* nonconform
that I am, the first time I commented on my own piece,
my own account made fun of myself
to such a degree..
   it ended up in a fistfight--
But it was me..  just ******* up
the whole trolling process.
I always tell the ones that I care
about  who all is 'me'.
I also phase popular ones of mine  out  
      and replace them with new ones  
          if that one is getting too noticed on the site.

That way I don't garner too many followers, which I believe
quenches one's freedom that is lost within the  obligatory
'give and take' mindset that is a cancer  on this
and so many other online writing sites.

Vogel started talking to you when I was no longer
scared of how quickly you got in with me.
I talk like crazy when someone like you gets in to the inner-core
of me so easily..  just by being the way that you are.
The babbling provides a canopy of structure..  Love's structure.
Strange, I know..  but I don't like being scared.
Its a boundary-thing..
and there is so little about ones like you
that even remotely slows down
the process of getting in..

and   I'm-a..  uh..
"I'm a loner, Dottie.. a rebel.."
~Peewee Herman

yeah.. that.

The accounts keep me safe from the
general public  by bringing
pieces of me out, relationally onto the screen  as a way of
providing for myself, the warm cover of love's structure--

   me..  with me.
All so very strange sounding, I'm sure.

I really enjoy watching you, kid.
I'm so sorry for bombing you with all those wordy messages
when we met. Your unique heart, mind, and spirit
are everything perfect in my eyes..  yes..  even with all of your
current broken,  fragmented pieces.
You were recently maybe under some form of a psyche-hold,
which is probably where the psyche eval came from.
Some in the mental health field care deeply..  many are just
going through the motions-- originally thinking it was
for them, and then finding out what the true cost
of love really is,  before slinking back into a foot-shuffling
process..   even as psychologists,  
and often  even medical psychiatrists (prescribers)--

    Who love to find a name for things so they can 'expertly'
    enter into relationship with what now has a name,
    rather than the deeply-hurting person.

Everybody wants the ****, beautiful-voiced girl who stands
a very good chance of making her mark so well in this world.
I would trade access to the 'best' part of it all with you,  
just to have the chance to be with you,  for even 5 minutes  
on that **** and tear-soaked, psyche room floor.

That is where I want to be.

My multiple "friends" keep me free..
unencumbered..  deeply-loved..
  .. ready.  
Broken-down, and pitch-black within the darkness of all its
despair. That is where it is that I would trade all things for,
    in order to be..
with you..  deep in to the very   r e a l   of  it  all..
if you ever fell down that temporarily far.

Everything I do is for that moment.  
My "friends" give me strength.  They believe in me
because I so deeply believe in my loved self.

       Hence, the ability to go anywhere
       you may one day have to go.



       Sorry, kid.. but you asked.


  Mm.  Babe..

"Can you feel the resistance..
  Can you feel the thunder"
https://youtu.be/uqUa_G1h3pw

Jaderbug dreams Nov 2013
Nothing feels better than the  way that the lights feel when they hit you for the first time,
every time really...
They aren't just regular lights, or the sun.
Its when you step on that football field with two hundred of your closest friends,
The feeling when you see the crowd for the first time cheering for you, only you.
The shimmering of instruments gleaming and shining all around like brand new Christmas oridments,
When you see the Drum Major's face on the jumbo-tron and nothing else matters in the world.
The first note, the first step. Finally all the hard work pays off and tonight's the last night.
Running through the show you remember all of the smallest details, the steps the notes, you don't just  go through the motions you feel the show, you live and breath  it fully for that  one night.

The last note.
All of the memories good and bad rush through your head.
You take in the crowd, the way it feels,  the way it looks.
You feel the lights, they way they feel on your skin.
You see past members, seniors, freshmen and everyone in between.
You see Luke thrusting his fists in the air cause he knows we did it.
You see Berard, Vogel,  and Greg running down the bleachers to reach us and walk us off the field.

The huddle.
We march off the field proper, collected, classy...
Once we're off  we go into the huddle, Berard says his usual, he might cry some.
But then you see that one person that made it worth wild.
You rap them into a soul crushing hug crying your eyes out.
You feel the love of your other family, possibly your only family.
Crying of joy because you know you ripped your heart up and threw it out in the field.
Crying because its over, Crying because the one your holding is the one you'll miss the most.
Its better than words, more than a feeling.
Its a life style, its your life.
Its the feeling of the lights.
I feel so alone right now
I look through my empty eyes
Just clinging to anything, anyone
I'm so tired, the pull is getting stronger
Sleep is useless, I dream no more

I'm being pulled into The Black Hole
I can feel that familiar emptiness
It's here, I don't want to fight anymore
I can feel It surrounding me

I'm inside looking out at life
Do I want to give up my life
Should I call out to others for help
Can I reach out with my hands

Maybe I'm too deep by now
Maybe I'll turn away and just fall
Do I really believe anyone cares
I can't decide, it's too much

I can see people I used to call friends
Maybe if I jump, I can grab the edge
Then I call out to anyone at this time
You heard my cry and turned to me

You reached out your loving hands
You took hold of mine, I felt different
The Black Hole didn't want me to go
I wrapped my hands around yours

You pulled, It pulled back with force
I was starting back up to the light
I looked up into your pools of life
I could see unrequited love there to

My heart and soul were overflowing
I could feel the grip of The Black Hole
This time, I chose to fight for my life
You pulled and I kicked free

At first, I felt very vulnerable
You wrapped me in Your arms
There are no words but I hear you
I feel and hear you in my soul

My depression blinded me from You
I was so wracked with my own issues
I forgot to look for a reason to pray
I forgot Your promise to all of us

Your promise to always walk with us
Your promise to always listen to us
Your promise to always care for us
All we need to do is to be humble and Pray and You will forever be there

When you feel like you have no one
When you feel like your life has let you Down and you can see It coming
Turn away, clear your thoughts
Humble yourself, get down on your Knees and pray

If we don't ask for what we need
With your voice, God loves to hear us  
He can't help unless you give your     Whole heart and soul and trust Him

He has promised to help us fulfill our Lives when you believe in Him
Jesus Christ is our only way to eternal Life, to be with God and your family

Jesus Christ pulled me from my Black Hole, my life is not perfect, I still live With problems in my normal life
The difference is I added Jesus Christ And God         I Believe      I have Faith

Written by Julia L Carlson Vogel
Please do not copy and pass as your work.  
@Copyright Julia L Carlson Vogel
This is my story about my Black Hole of Depression and how I had help to get out. My divine intervention.
Jann F Jun 2022
Nicht zu wissen wo etwas beginnt
Nicht zu wissen wo etwas endet
Wir haben vielerlei Möglichkeiten aber die Zweifel über das Ungewisse überwiegen

Fliege wie ein Vogel
sei frei von allen Ängsten und Zwängen und kehre nie wieder zurück
Die unendlichen Weiten am Himmelszelt
so träumerisch und unermüdlich wie die Ungewissheit
May 11th, 2012 to August 28th, 2018
R.I.P. My Best Friend
You were here for such a short time

I can feel your spirit
within me and around me
and in the pasture
with the others you left behind

You were one of a kind
Your personality like no other
You were King of the pasture

With some work and persistence
you learned to respect me as the leader of the herd  (most days)

Our relationship grew into an amazing friendship
A bond like I've never felt before

You amazed me everyday
Your colors as beautiful as the sun
A coat mostly a deep red and gold
Your Mane and Tail mostly black with red highlights

Your movement was free and bold
Your gallop the best
Your Mane and Tail
blowing up into the wind
Your chest rhythmically drawing air into your lungs
Your nostrils flaring in excitement with some snorting too

When you arrived here into my pasture and my heart
You were a force to be reckoned with as a Stallion
Gelding you didn't change you into a docile horse as expected
Your personality was yours and nothing would change it

You were my favorite
You will forever be in my heart

I miss you everyday
I miss your kisses with your
warm and wet tongue
I miss you following me around to see what I was doing
I even miss when you tried to use my head as your chin rest
I didn't even mind when you were pushy or stepped on my toes
I loved warming my hands on your neck under your thick mane
I loved knowing that when I looked into your beautiful brown eyes
I knew you were looking back at me with love and understanding

It was the saddest night of my life when you had to leave us behind
The unfortunate accident that changed our destiny
A moment of time that
can never be taken back  
That whole day is forever
emblazoned in my mind

You left us no choice but to send you back to God to run in
His golden pastures
You will never be hungry or thirsty or cold ever again
Best part is no more pain

Wild and Free forever
in the light of heaven's pastures

I will see you again someday
when my time comes
I know this in my heart and soul

You are physically gone from our lives but you will
never be forgotten

You are and will always be our Lucky 
Always in the hearts of those that loved you most

I will love you forever

Author: Julia LaRae Vogel
I have written and rewritten this so many times.  The first was written right after his death.  The second was a try at making it less like a story and more like a poem, it continued to be a draft.  Now I hope it gets published as a poem.
Z Aug 2015
Auch wann die hellleichte Sonne *******br>Auch wann den Vogel singt
Schöne Lieder, die alle tieftraurige Leute auch Leben gibt
Wegen dieser Entfernung
DV,
ich
vermisse
dich
Daan May 2018
Na heen en weer en her en der gestuurd te worden,
het horen van de straat en zien van duizend borden,
moest ik me even afgezonderd voelen, alleen zijn,
zalig, zielig, eenzaam, op en af koelen
in de zachte wind van mei.

Mijn hoofd is klei, mijn handen zacht.
Ik heb geen dag gewerkt en dat ook nooit verwacht.
Maar vroeg of laat droogt het op en zit ik vast
in onveranderbare vormen.

Lijden volgt op volgen van de normen,
hoewel afwijking ook kan storen,
ruik ik liever met mijn oren
of zie ik met mijn tong.

Zong de vogel ook maar in de winter,
sliep ik ook maar voor middernacht.
ik droom meestal later maar vind er
nooit iemand die lacht.

Ik sluit me op om te ontwaken
uit de vloeiende stroom van onbeïnvloedbaar gedrag
wanneer mijn uitgewanden staken
en ik genoeg heb van de dag.
Slaapwel

Somewhere in the past,
you were deeply affected within your interaction
with one of my accounts.  I don't know who you are
(who the person is that is leaving tangible fingerprints
on the keyboard of this account I am speaking to)
..
I can only guess,
but I am fairly sure that my guess is accurate,
     so I will keep all of that to myself,
so that you can freely and without fear of being found out,
go back with me to that place inside of yourself  that felt so well
met and seen back then.

In turn, no more *******, devaluing of love
the way that you do so often at close range.

If you pull that horrendously harmful **** again,
I will pull away again, but this time.. never come back.
That being said, I will not leave you hanging,
(or do my best to not to)  
if you bring  towards me  the need within you..
that through your memory,

you so well believe that I can satisfy
(and you already know that I am not talking about the ******).


You feel the deep, internal response--
from deep within that body of yours,  
when love warmly touches  
previously untouched places within you

And you spin them out publicly right in the midst of our
closeness of interaction (which I think is really cool),
just please don't flay me for showing my humanity
by responding back to you sexually.
I will keep that side to myself,  if that is what it takes
to keep you from throwing me under the bus, yet again.
The ****** (within the closeness of warm, loving connection) --
((even in the world of support..))
that very sensuality so perfectly parallels..  
through physical, tangibly-felt metaphor..
all that there is also within the Realms
when it comes to the spiritual.

Healing of that which has become broken by the fallen
******-up version of love this world brings--
that type of healing and restoration back into wholeness
is what all relational closeness is meant to bring,  and stand for.
You want something that you deeply believe that I have,  
yet somewhere..   maybe in another life..
I must have hurt you deeply,
or you wouldn't be sending  all these finger-puppet forays
my way.

Come and get what you want and need,
and if you believe I am shorting you your rightful blessing  
by missing it..   or simply just being generically stupid,
then instead of flaying me publicly,  
privately come to me  in boldness,
   and shake it out of me--
that which is rightfully yours-- my healing-response.

and do it brazenly,  with a fierce, yet open and vulnerable heart
the way that you have shown in your poems. Maybe in time
you will find out all on your own  
that what you thought was hurtful from me,  was felt
out of perception,  rather than what was actual.
If I really did do something,  tell me what it is
so that I can own up to it and tell you that I am sorry
for ******* everything up that way..
if, in fact.. it was something I really did.

I will only talk to you  from here (my M Vogel account)
so that you can rise and fall
concerning what things you need most from me,  
solely

by the responsibility of you,
and of me.

You already know that I am Paul.
You can call me that,  or M Vogel,
or stupidface..
or any of my other account names if you want,
but get inside of here with me what it is that you came for.

If it is something that I am able to give or be a part of..
then know it will become yours  in time.
  You have the ability..
     even though being spoken to this way
    both wildly turns you on
    and completely scares you shitless

    (((and probably both at the same time)))
you have  proven,  through your posted words  
that you are actually able to be a part of   and do,
what has for so long  felt so horribly distant from you,
   and so horrendously impossible for you to attain.
You have earned every single part of this very rightful place
that you now have in here with me.

Please don't stupidly **** it up the way that you so well
and so often do.
You are brilliant, girl. We both know that.
Stupid things are possible because your world has had learn
to be so incredibly indirect in order to survive.
What has saved you up until now,  out there..
will destroy everything for you,   in here.
But you are human, and rendering old things   dead
may be too much to ask for.. so I will tell you now--

that even  if within your broken, PTSD-filter--
you make a mess of the closeness--  at close range..
then with poetry, find your way back into my heart--
by speaking solely from yours  as you have.
**** me over too insincerely and callously  without remorse,
and you yourself will have stolen  you--  directly from
that of the deepest of places within my own heart.

Your call, kid..
You are not a little 14 year old  clad in combat boots anymore.
Yours is a living, breathing heart--
left withering  within the dry desert of indirectness
that you have  been forced up until now  to live in.

*Every single day the sun comes up, anew. Those words mean everything to you for a reason.
Through love and accountability,  breathe life in to them.

That is how you will make them real.

Let him know that you know best
'Cause after all, you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
without granting, innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong--
the things you've told him all along

And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

As he begins to raise his voice
you lower yours,
and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road

or break with the ones that you've followed

He will do one of two things..
he will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
and you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong
I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

https://youtu.be/5R4VE3sewoE?t=38


um, yourself
you gorgeous little ****  xox
tyler v Jan 2016
Forever no telling how clever till whenever  I always remember what I do that's true like loving blue I love u.
For you im the best that's no guess you've been a bless like a blessing you can keep guessing am I a man? I am. And that's fa **** show! like this flow of a poem for you should know I live in your home your mine all mine its not a crime no lie not shy that's right.
You make me feel so good inside.. example... being told you have the ability to fly on your own free will. This Is so real. **** where'd you come from? I'm so in love, beats of a drum, I make you come, you make me run, you are my Sun and sky that's right id fight for your side for your pride for who lied and try to be the guy for you for life.. this is tyler vogel 2009.
preston Aug 2020
~M Vogel
(sequestered from the status quo)  


Sitting here in front of this screen
my Artist Peppino, across my thigh--
[the greater (for the time being)
giving way to the lesser]

One day, I will be able to breathe life
in to your strings, my love..
the way I do words, on to paper

And on that fine, glorious day
I will no longer need these cheese-****
stupid ******* online poetry sites
to bring forth the music of my soul

Nor will I  continually  need to wade through
this never-ending barrage of classic  hiders
and their bastardization-like misuse of poetry~
in order to hide behind the very words
that should be  given the permission  to make them
become, truly known.

There is no alone-ness within the magnificent  resonations

of the perfectly plucked string
of the most perfect,  of guitars


     Like this one, sitting  right here  
                                             in my lap.


excuse me while I lose my lunch onto this bluescreen now.


And the disciples came and said to Him, “Why do You speak to them in parables?” Jesus answered them, “To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been granted.  
For whoever has, to him more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him.

Therefore I speak to them in parables;

Because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. In their case the prophecy of Isaiah is being fulfilled, which says,

‘You will keep on hearing, but will not understand;
You will keep on seeing, but will not perceive;
For the heart of this people has become dull,
With their ears they scarcely hear,
And they have closed their eyes,

Otherwise they would see with their eyes,
Hear with their ears,
And understand with their heart and return,
And I would heal them.’

"In other words, *******."
~Jebs
Daan Jun 2019
Alles afgestemd op ochtendtypes,
afgedaan als oneerlijke offday-hypes.
Ik ben een avond mens, wring me
in krochten, bochten naar de wens
van het vroege diertje, de vogel
die de wormen krijgt, die
de raaf van de nacht
overtreft in kleur
en verwijtend lacht
wanneer ik over kleine oogjes en het opstaan zeur.
Roberto Carlos Feb 2019
And whence the Vogel sang its song
awoken from my dreams
my flight against my destiny
prone helpless doth it seemed

I sat bestirred my heart afire
life's echoes raged in my mind
to rule what once - the best of me
oh..  so treacherous bane's design

I fell upon my knees in vain
screamed hoarse into the night
the rhythm of my blood, drained full
... ne'er concede the fight

All through the night my heart, bestilled
love's ichor 'pon the floor
my head held up, I would not yield
to lose her...

my soul abhorred



* A recurring dream


An Awakening © 2017  Roberto Carlos
Lacey Vogel Apr 2018
The doors are closing
The windows are shut
Closed my heart
All In the dust
Brushing away all the moments
As everything goes to a blur
As time goes by I don’t know why
I feel the pain that made me die
Wiping the tears from my face
I try and try but I’m washed away.
~Lacey Vogel
preston Sep 2020
~M Vogel
asleep  at the wheel

A smoothe sail, set
a body of water, deep
brings about the greatest need
for trust

And who are you to me
as we float?
And I, to myself  whether under full sail
or land-locked,
the waves.. as they roll, will not scuttle
whether  within a depth, beyond fathom
or a curbside built dam, a child-made puddle

there is nothing that can pull, down
but the weight  of my own, bitter keel
and there's nothing in the ocean, lower
than the way, my own actions
can so often,  make me feel
In this ocean, floating
there is a world of un-doing

                            and re doing

The water, being a conduit
pulling from me, nautical miles
of the, unforgiven--
an ocean of changing emotions
under late-evening skies of sometimes, torrent
pulling me deeper into the need   to contain
the containment,  of the need

The dark skies, are where I go
within  the allowance of the need, to become freed
of all  of these obligatory-vestments.
This ocean, so deep--
the one  inside of me

carrying me away  

to a place called, containment.

alone in the bedroom
singing, hallelujah..
https://youtu.be/6r7D6gNEWFs
preston Sep 2020
M Vogel
(et inpaenitens boheme, infidele)

When your worst horrors have come to pass
     and you did not die
and sleep  is actually a comfort,  
instead of a curse
Because dream-themes are no longer hauntings
but  instead,  flow in and out of consciousness
as random acts of grace
And the death that should be coming

becomes, instead
a replenishment of living cells--
a surprisingly-unexpected regeneration,  
this bracing for a Fall that never comes.

Winter is coming,

and this death, has a warmth
that will carry me through
And though the ground will be frozen soon,
there will be no death this year
above the frost line

But below,  in what is still warm
there will be a death,  that brings life--
encased in fear, yet floating within the midst
of a subterranean stream..  an ocean, of peace

Winter's chill is coming;  
there is a strange feeling in me
that tells me, I am ready.


bless the beasts, and the children
https://youtu.be/IIbnJkPK8r0
Daan Jul 2021
Grijze vingers op een snorretje
en een hele hoge hoed.
Een welbedoelend porretje,
wat stellen wij het goed.

Wat wil je later worden, vriend,
wat doe je graag of vind je fijn?

Los van wat ik wel of nietes heb verdiend,
meneer, een mooie vogel wil ik zijn.
Met sterke vleugels, alsjeblieft.

— The End —