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MindInTheClouds Aug 2016
Am I going to wash away?
Pulled by a river and wash away?
Drenched by a dagger and wash away?
Poisoned by a snake and wash away?
Drained by a bullet and wash away?
Catch me as I wash away!

Fade into a dream and wash away?
Plummet into darkness and wash away?
Submit into weakness and wash away?
Collapse into betrayal and wash away?
Catch me as I wash away!

Succumb to fate and wash away?
Lead to failure and wash away?
Surrender to temptation and wash away?
Lie to shield and wash away?
Please, catch me as I wash away!

Am I going to wash away?
I did not ask to wash away.
But, now, I must wash away.
However my way, I'll wash away.
Do not catch me as I wash away!
Some guy eats a ****** bat
do dah do dah
All I say is "fancy that"
all the do dah day
keep your distance, give me space
do dah do dah
remember do not touch your face
all the do dah day

wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.

keep your groupings under ten,
do dah do day
that goes for women and for men
all the do dah day
stay inside and don't go out
do dah do dah
the virus is all round about
all the do dah day

wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.

toilet paper's hard to find
do dah do dah
some folks have just lost their mind
all the do dah day
buying everything in sight
do dah do dah
i've got to say that isn't right
all the do dah day

wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
twash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.

if we all play by the rules
do dah do dah
and quit acting like ****** fools
all the do dah day
this will pass i promise you
do dah do dah
do what the doctors tell you to
all the do dah day

wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.
Jonathan Nov 2017
Wash, wash
away this shame
wash, wash
away my shadows
wash, wash
away this corrupted soul
these blurred mindless intentions of "trying" to,
wash, away
my assumption of my entitled view of rightousness
wash, wash
away my selfishness wash, wash
away my carelessness of stealing your safety net by sabotage
wash, wash
away my ******* to evil wash wash it all away...
Please tell me what the made you think about
Harrison W Nov 2013
I'm fading away
Fading fast
Hoping I won't disappear
Into nowhere

Girls and ***
Lust and regrets
Drugs and coke
Drinks and rage
Are some things that I sink into

The sin that I own
I pray for it to wash away
Only to get ***** again
I pray for it to wash away
Get *****
          Wash away
                               Get *****
                                                Wash away
                                                                      Get *****
                                                                                        Wash away
                                                                                  Get *****
                                                                              Wash away
                                                                     Get *****
                                                            Wash away
                                                    Get *****
                                         Wash away
                                      Get *****
                                                Wash away
                                                                  Get *****
                                                                           Wash away
                                                                       Get *****
                                                                   Wash away
                                                           Get *****
                                                                               Wash away
                                                                                                    Get *****
                                                                                                            Again
                                                                                                    And again
                                                                                              And again

Finally can't get clean
Can't stop
Each day gets messier and messier
Filth protrudes in my fingernails
Filth protrudes inside my body

I don't want to get clean
I want to be messy
I want to be nasty
I want to be *****
I'm filthy and I love to be filthy
I feel sick
But I love it

I don't need saving
I don't need anybody or anything
I only need the filth
I can't live without the filth
I want to disappear in the filth
I want to go away in it
Kelsie Kullman Jun 2012
I stood outside watching the rain slowly melt from the clouds

My porch let me step onto its short pathway, for it knew my thoughts

I stood there and looked up at the sky, being guarded by the small roof above me

I watched as the rain fell silently to the streets and listened as it hit the bushes

I kept waiting for it to change

I kept waiting for it to change me

For it to wash away something deep inside me

I wanted it to wash away any hurt

Wash away the insecurities

Wash away the denial

Wash away the sins

Wash away the thinking of “You’ll never feel the touch of someone in love”

Wash away the scars

Wash away the memories

Wash away the impurities

Wash away

I stood waiting but the rain still poured on my outstretched hands

My hands opening to God asking,”Why me?”

The hands of a woman who has never felt the hands of a man in love

The hands that can make me whole once more

As I stood watching the lightening soar across the sky and the thunder gently hum

I wondered “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”

I shivered and stood waiting for the rain’s response

None came; the only response was the silent tread of water heading toward a gutter

Funny, just like my life, always fighting against gravity to stay clear of the gutter

Shivering I stepped back inside and heard a small clink of a piece of broken glass

I held it, amazed, wondering if my life would end this way

In the hands of a tiny piece of melted sand

I looked at its tiny iceberg shape

I turned it and it suddenly transformed into a misshaped heart

A heart, like mine, so clear, so ready, so fragile

I tossed the tiny love into the air as lightening made its last hoorah

Hearing only the distinctive clink as it hit the sidewalk

The rain responded joyously as it picked up its pace

This was her response

Nothing may be real but the rain

In the end, sometimes, it’s all we can depend on to wash away our old selves

To stand, like an escape from Shawshank; free

This was my answer

That my tiny glass love lying patiently on the side of the road will someday be picked up and thrown wildly into the wind hoping that it shall find the fingers of a lovestruck current

This time instead of a slab of concrete, I shall be there to catch it as lightening strikes my heart

I looked up at the tiny roof guarding my head from the cold drops of reality

It was then that I decided it was time to take the roof off of my life, leaving me unguarded

I closed the door, shivering with a renewed sense of myself

I curled under the blanket asking again the same questions that haunted me,

“Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”

The rain answered,

“Yes”.
Brycical Feb 2012
wash* away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Ripple vibrations
stimulating hydration—
        dripping finger droplets
flushing worry
washed away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Cleanse my senses
& grow my Earth.
The stream is healing
for my warm rebirth.
wash away
            wash away
       wash away wash away
tina lombardo Nov 2018
rain wash away my tears
rain was away my pain
rain wash away my love
rain wash away my hurt
rain wash away my hope
rain wash away my time
rain wash away my blood stain
rain wash away my cuts n scars
rain wash away my happy face
rain wash away my sad face
rain wash away my soul
rain just wash me away
Jade Sep 2018
II. Mysophobia

Sure,
now,
when I look to the right
of my bedroom door,
I see the light-switch for what it is--
a light-switch,
inanimate,
with absolutely no potential
to cause me harm.

But, at eleven years old,
a light-switch
is a breeding ground
for plethoras of
girl-hungry microorganisms
waiting to infect me
with some vile, incurable illness.

In the sixth grade,
I wash my hands the
same way I would
eventually come to write poetry--
obsessively,
with reckless abandon
and, most importantly,
with the insatiable desire to escape.

I flick on the light-switch and
I wash my hands

I touch the door handle and
I wash my hands

I just come out of the shower and
I wash my hands

I learn what a ******* is at school one day and
I wash my hands

I think of *** for the first time
(I enjoy it)
and
I wash my hands
(I regret it)

I believe God must be angry with me so
I wash my hands

I wash my hands.
with tedious precaution
so as not to miss
a single palm line
or fingernail.

I wash my hands
until my skin
splits like volcanic rock,
until dew drops of lava
clot across my knuckles,
until I've sacrificed every last
bit of my flesh
in my attempt at purification.

I wash my hands
until it hurts to
eat.
write.
pray.

(But in four years,
I will have stopped
praying altogether,
anyway.)
Twinkle Jul 2014
Wash my soul Oh beautiful spring!
Wash it away of its stains
How I long and wish to be made clean
and how I wish to be sane

For Thou art purity and
For in you is tranquillity
For in you is my peace of mind.

Wash my soul Oh beautiful spring
Wash it away of its stains
Lord I know not what to say
and the only way I know,
is YOUR Way of Life.

I look to you with eyes thirsting
That you should know me this deep!
More than human, more than evil
Two sides of the same coin, I can be.

How far I walked away from the one who did care.
and wandered beyond darkened shores.
Where only grief and despair would claw against my soul.
A dead end, a drop and not a hope for sure.

I immerse my brokenness in your sway
and confess my grief so deep.
Oh cover me with your tender love
and help me to sleep.

Oh how, deeply I mourn this separation
What did I do! that I should not have done?
And you ne’r a word did say
Only looking at me with soulful eyes
To say “I do care”.

But once in your embrace Oh Life
Not a care shall worry me.
For my past behind you make me leave
and give me the treat of a Life.
I float in your magical embrace
and lifted high I rejoice

I had once blocked your love through sin
And you swept away my shame.
Now flow through me Oh Living Waters
and wash me in your wave
For I shall be made all clean
and you shall wash away my stains.

You give me a chance to renew and replenish
and with your love you set me anew.
Oh radiate in me Live Living Waters
For your love, to shine through me

A life so clean and washed and blessed
I shall find in your deepest crest.
When made clean by the spring of life
I shall come to rest at shores divine.
I wandered far away from the ONE who really loves me, My Lord and Savior JESUS. Want to be washed with his forgiveness and Love.
Ralph E Peck May 2013
Wash the Monday from my back, and leave me there to soak
In that rapturous bath of Fridays preparation, and Saturdays wonderment.
Your hands and heart can wash away that filthy guile, brought about so
Seemingly easily, by days turned with bent figures, walking upright in
Their presence, so crouched in their intent, so much the feeling of them is almost welcome,
With the smiles and fraught gestures of humility and sunshine, pours through
And graces their face, with light, that can be seen as glowing and righteous,
Only to be revealed in their common ugliness, in their dark way, in themselves.
Wash the dark winds and fretful traces, of that which makes me unclean, and
Feel the utmost traces of your blue sky against my back.
All the things that make me what I am, lost among the senses of those that try
To tear me down, clean your way, and make it built within me.
There is no one, no hand that can wash, no person that can say, or do, or hold
Anything of any matter, more than your hand, your arm, your shoulder,
That essence of you, can keep us together, and wash, wash the Monday,
From my back, and  leave me here to soak.
So here Ulysses slept, overcome by sleep and toil; but Minerva
went off to the country and city of the Phaecians—a people who used
to live in the fair town of Hypereia, near the lawless Cyclopes. Now
the Cyclopes were stronger than they and plundered them, so their king
Nausithous moved them thence and settled them in Scheria, far from all
other people. He surrounded the city with a wall, built houses and
temples, and divided the lands among his people; but he was dead and
gone to the house of Hades, and King Alcinous, whose counsels were
inspired of heaven, was now reigning. To his house, then, did
Minerva hie in furtherance of the return of Ulysses.
  She went straight to the beautifully decorated bedroom in which
there slept a girl who was as lovely as a goddess, Nausicaa,
daughter to King Alcinous. Two maid servants were sleeping near her,
both very pretty, one on either side of the doorway, which was
closed with well-made folding doors. Minerva took the form of the
famous sea captain Dymas’s daughter, who was a ***** friend of
Nausicaa and just her own age; then, coming up to the girl’s bedside
like a breath of wind, she hovered over her head and said:
  “Nausicaa, what can your mother have been about, to have such a lazy
daughter? Here are your clothes all lying in disorder, yet you are
going to be married almost immediately, and should not only be well
dressed yourself, but should find good clothes for those who attend
you. This is the way to get yourself a good name, and to make your
father and mother proud of you. Suppose, then, that we make tomorrow a
washing day, and start at daybreak. I will come and help you so that
you may have everything ready as soon as possible, for all the best
young men among your own people are courting you, and you are not
going to remain a maid much longer. Ask your father, therefore, to
have a waggon and mules ready for us at daybreak, to take the rugs,
robes, and girdles; and you can ride, too, which will be much
pleasanter for you than walking, for the washing-cisterns are some way
from the town.”
  When she had said this Minerva went away to Olympus, which they
say is the everlasting home of the gods. Here no wind beats roughly,
and neither rain nor snow can fall; but it abides in everlasting
sunshine and in a great peacefulness of light, wherein the blessed
gods are illumined for ever and ever. This was the place to which
the goddess went when she had given instructions to the girl.
  By and by morning came and woke Nausicaa, who began wondering
about her dream; she therefore went to the other end of the house to
tell her father and mother all about it, and found them in their own
room. Her mother was sitting by the fireside spinning her purple
yarn with her maids around her, and she happened to catch her father
just as he was going out to attend a meeting of the town council,
which the Phaeacian aldermen had convened. She stopped him and said:
  “Papa dear, could you manage to let me have a good big waggon? I
want to take all our ***** clothes to the river and wash them. You are
the chief man here, so it is only right that you should have a clean
shirt when you attend meetings of the council. Moreover, you have five
sons at home, two of them married, while the other three are
good-looking bachelors; you know they always like to have clean
linen when they go to a dance, and I have been thinking about all
this.”
  She did not say a word about her own wedding, for she did not like
to, but her father knew and said, “You shall have the mules, my
love, and whatever else you have a mind for. Be off with you, and
the men shall get you a good strong waggon with a body to it that will
hold all your clothes.”
  On this he gave his orders to the servants, who got the waggon
out, harnessed the mules, and put them to, while the girl brought
the clothes down from the linen room and placed them on the waggon.
Her mother prepared her a basket of provisions with all sorts of
good things, and a goat skin full of wine; the girl now got into the
waggon, and her mother gave her also a golden cruse of oil, that she
and her women might anoint themselves. Then she took the whip and
reins and lashed the mules on, whereon they set off, and their hoofs
clattered on the road. They pulled without flagging, and carried not
only Nausicaa and her wash of clothes, but the maids also who were
with her.
  When they reached the water side they went to the
washing-cisterns, through which there ran at all times enough pure
water to wash any quantity of linen, no matter how *****. Here they
unharnessed the mules and turned them out to feed on the sweet juicy
herbage that grew by the water side. They took the clothes out of
the waggon, put them in the water, and vied with one another in
treading them in the pits to get the dirt out. After they had washed
them and got them quite clean, they laid them out by the sea side,
where the waves had raised a high beach of shingle, and set about
washing themselves and anointing themselves with olive oil. Then
they got their dinner by the side of the stream, and waited for the
sun to finish drying the clothes. When they had done dinner they threw
off the veils that covered their heads and began to play at ball,
while Nausicaa sang for them. As the huntress Diana goes forth upon
the mountains of Taygetus or Erymanthus to hunt wild boars or deer,
and the wood-nymphs, daughters of Aegis-bearing Jove, take their sport
along with her (then is Leto proud at seeing her daughter stand a full
head taller than the others, and eclipse the loveliest amid a whole
bevy of beauties), even so did the girl outshine her handmaids.
  When it was time for them to start home, and they were folding the
clothes and putting them into the waggon, Minerva began to consider
how Ulysses should wake up and see the handsome girl who was to
conduct him to the city of the Phaeacians. The girl, therefore,
threw a ball at one of the maids, which missed her and fell into
deep water. On this they all shouted, and the noise they made woke
Ulysses, who sat up in his bed of leaves and began to wonder what it
might all be.
  “Alas,” said he to himself, “what kind of people have I come
amongst? Are they cruel, savage, and uncivilized, or hospitable and
humane? I seem to hear the voices of young women, and they sound
like those of the nymphs that haunt mountain tops, or springs of
rivers and meadows of green grass. At any rate I am among a race of
men and women. Let me try if I cannot manage to get a look at them.”
  As he said this he crept from under his bush, and broke off a
bough covered with thick leaves to hide his nakedness. He looked
like some lion of the wilderness that stalks about exulting in his
strength and defying both wind and rain; his eyes glare as he prowls
in quest of oxen, sheep, or deer, for he is famished, and will dare
break even into a well-fenced homestead, trying to get at the sheep-
even such did Ulysses seem to the young women, as he drew near to them
all naked as he was, for he was in great want. On seeing one so
unkempt and so begrimed with salt water, the others scampered off
along the spits that jutted out into the sea, but the daughter of
Alcinous stood firm, for Minerva put courage into her heart and took
away all fear from her. She stood right in front of Ulysses, and he
doubted whether he should go up to her, throw himself at her feet, and
embrace her knees as a suppliant, or stay where he was and entreat her
to give him some clothes and show him the way to the town. In the
end he deemed it best to entreat her from a distance in case the
girl should take offence at his coming near enough to clasp her knees,
so he addressed her in honeyed and persuasive language.
  “O queen,” he said, “I implore your aid—but tell me, are you a
goddess or are you a mortal woman? If you are a goddess and dwell in
heaven, I can only conjecture that you are Jove’s daughter Diana,
for your face and figure resemble none but hers; if on the other
hand you are a mortal and live on earth, thrice happy are your
father and mother—thrice happy, too, are your brothers and sisters;
how proud and delighted they must feel when they see so fair a scion
as yourself going out to a dance; most happy, however, of all will
he be whose wedding gifts have been the richest, and who takes you
to his own home. I never yet saw any one so beautiful, neither man nor
woman, and am lost in admiration as I behold you. I can only compare
you to a young palm tree which I saw when I was at Delos growing
near the altar of Apollo—for I was there, too, with much people after
me, when I was on that journey which has been the source of all my
troubles. Never yet did such a young plant shoot out of the ground
as that was, and I admired and wondered at it exactly as I now
admire and wonder at yourself. I dare not clasp your knees, but I am
in great distress; yesterday made the twentieth day that I had been
tossing about upon the sea. The winds and waves have taken me all
the way from the Ogygian island, and now fate has flung me upon this
coast that I may endure still further suffering; for I do not think
that I have yet come to the end of it, but rather that heaven has
still much evil in store for me.
  “And now, O queen, have pity upon me, for you are the first person I
have met, and I know no one else in this country. Show me the way to
your town, and let me have anything that you may have brought hither
to wrap your clothes in. May heaven grant you in all things your
heart’s desire—husband, house, and a happy, peaceful home; for
there is nothing better in this world than that man and wife should be
of one mind in a house. It discomfits their enemies, makes the
hearts of their friends glad, and they themselves know more about it
than any one.”
  To this Nausicaa answered, “Stranger, you appear to be a sensible,
well-disposed person. There is no accounting for luck; Jove gives
prosperity to rich and poor just as he chooses, so you must take
what he has seen fit to send you, and make the best of it. Now,
however, that you have come to this our country, you shall not want
for clothes nor for anything else that a foreigner in distress may
reasonably look for. I will show you the way to the town, and will
tell you the name of our people; we are called Phaeacians, and I am
daughter to Alcinous, in whom the whole power of the state is vested.”
  Then she called her maids and said, “Stay where you are, you
girls. Can you not see a man without running away from him? Do you
take him for a robber or a murderer? Neither he nor any one else can
come here to do us Phaeacians any harm, for we are dear to the gods,
and live apart on a land’s end that juts into the sounding sea, and
have nothing to do with any other people. This is only some poor man
who has lost his way, and we must be kind to him, for strangers and
foreigners in distress are under Jove’s protection, and will take what
they can get and be thankful; so, girls, give the poor fellow
something to eat and drink, and wash him in the stream at some place
that is sheltered from the wind.”
  On this the maids left off running away and began calling one
another back. They made Ulysses sit down in the shelter as Nausicaa
had told them, and brought him a shirt and cloak. They also brought
him the little golden cruse of oil, and told him to go wash in the
stream. But Ulysses said, “Young women, please to stand a little on
one side that I may wash the brine from my shoulders and anoint myself
with oil, for it is long enough since my skin has had a drop of oil
upon it. I cannot wash as long as you all keep standing there. I am
ashamed to strip before a number of good-looking young women.”
  Then they stood on one side and went to tell the girl, while Ulysses
washed himself in the stream and scrubbed the brine from his back
and from his broad shoulders. When he had thoroughly washed himself,
and had got the brine out of his hair, he anointed himself with oil,
and put on the clothes which the girl had given him; Minerva then made
him look taller and stronger than before, she also made the hair
grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like
hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders as a
skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan and
Minerva enriches a piece of silver plate by gilding it—and his work
is full of beauty. Then he went and sat down a little way off upon the
beach, looking quite young and handsome, and the girl gazed on him
with admiration; then she said to her maids:
  “Hush, my dears, for I want to say something. I believe the gods who
live in heaven have sent this man to the Phaeacians. When I first
saw him I thought him plain, but now his appearance is like that of
the gods who dwell in heaven. I should like my future husband to be
just such another as he is, if he would only stay here and not want to
go away. However, give him something to eat and drink.”
  They did as they were told, and set food before Ulysses, who ate and
drank ravenously, for it was long since he had had food of any kind.
Meanwhile, Nausicaa bethought her of another matter. She got the linen
folded and placed in the waggon, she then yoked the mules, and, as she
took her seat, she called Ulysses:
  “Stranger,” said she, “rise and let us be going back to the town;
I will introduce you at the house of my excellent father, where I
can tell you that you will meet all the best people among the
Phaecians. But be sure and do as I bid you, for you seem to be a
sensible person. As long as we are going past the fields—and farm
lands, follow briskly behind the waggon along with the maids and I
will lead the way myself. Presently, however, we shall come to the
town, where you will find a high wall running all round it, and a good
harbour on either side with a narrow entrance into the city, and the
ships will be drawn up by the road side, for every one has a place
where his own ship can lie. You will see the market place with a
temple of Neptune in the middle of it, and paved with large stones
bedded in the earth. Here people deal in ship’s gear of all kinds,
such as cables and sails, and here, too, are the places where oars are
made, for the Phaeacians are not a nation of archers; they know
nothing about bows and arrows, but are a sea-faring folk, and pride
themselves on their masts, oars, and ships, with which they travel far
over the sea.
  “I am afraid of the gossip and scandal that may be set on foot
against me later on; for the people here are very ill-natured, and
some low fellow, if he met us, might say, ‘Who is this fine-looking
stranger that is going about with Nausicaa? Where did she End him? I
suppose she is going to marry him. Perhaps he is a vagabond sailor
whom she has taken from some foreign vessel, for we have no
neighbours; or some god has at last come down from heaven in answer to
her prayers, and she is going to live with him all the rest of her
life. It would be a good thing if she would take herself of I for sh
and find a husband somewhere else, for she will not look at one of the
many excellent young Phaeacians who are in with her.’ This is the kind
of disparaging remark that would be made about me, and I could not
complain, for I should myself be scandalized at seeing any other
girl do the like, and go about with men in spite of everybody, while
her father and mother were still alive, and without having been
married in the face of all the world.
  “If, therefore, you want my father to give you an escort and to help
you home, do as I bid you; you will see a beautiful grove of poplars
by the road side dedicated to Minerva; it has a well in it and a
meadow all round it. Here my father has a field of rich garden ground,
about as far from the town as a man’ voice will carry. Sit down
there and wait for a while till the rest of us can get into the town
and reach my father’s house. Then, when you think we must have done
this, come into the town and ask the way to the house of my father
Alcinous. You will have no difficulty in finding it; any child will
point it out to you, for no one else in
Wash your hands wash your hands
Wash your hands
Get rid of the coronavirus
Get rid get rid of it now
Make sure we wash our hands
Use hand soap
And hand sanitizer
As we work our way
Of beating coronavirus
Wash your hands wash your hands
Wash your hands
And keep your house ****** clean
You see it is hard to beat this bug
And we need to not do high fives
Or shaking hands in the clubs
There is no dancing or social distancing no
Because if we do we will catch it
The coronavirus is made by the evil trapper so the way to stop is to
Wash your hands wash your hands wash your hands
And stop trapper from winning
Enjoy the sports and tv shows
Relax and have fun yeah
Just just just
Wash your hands ya mug
To stop Corona
spacewtchhh Apr 23
Wash your hands
You held his hands too tightly.
Wash your hands
You pushed him hard, now he's free.

Wash your hands
You touched a heart that's not yours.
Wash your hands
You fool, love cannot be forced.

Wash your hands
You played a lot in the dirt.
Wash your hands
You stained through your shirt.

Wash your hands
We have sinned too much.
Wash your hands
Not everything is to be touched.
Alicia Jul 2013
Wash away my existence
Wash away my fingerprints that linger on your skin
Wash away my tear stained cheeks
Wash me away
Take me down the drain and into another world
Take me down to a place where Im no longer even a memory
Take me down away from the slightest thought of us
The slightest memory of shared laughs
stories
tears
love
Take me down and wash me away
Austin Bauer Mar 2017
Bend down today
in humble submission,
in groveling forgiveness,
and wash the feet
of another.

Partner with your savior,
recognize the filth
of your own sin,
and wash the feet
of another.

Become acquainted
with the essence
of your existence
by washing the feet
of another.

Esteem one higher
than yourself,
meet that lowest place,
and wash the feet
of another.

You will find
how you too will
become clean when
you wash the feet
of another.

So do not tarry,
no, now, today
bend down
and wash the feet
of another.
A meditation on John 13.
September Roses Jul 2018
Sit back and relax
Feel the waves wash over your back
In the melting sun
Looking at the clouds reflecting all the pinks and blues
Over the blooming hill, echoing white noise of chirps and crickets

Listen to the trickling of the slow water over the smooth rocks
Feel a warm wind brush your face
With your eyes closed
Enjoying the radiating warmth
And the soothing crackling of a log fire

Or sit and admire the shimmering spray
Of a waterfall smoothly crashing into the water of a sky kissed lake
Sunlight dancing through the vapor
Rainbows jumping through every droplet

Listen to the pitter patter of the rain, against a tin roof
Inside a warm cabin
Drifting to sleep
Soon to wake to the song bird's chorus
And the blissful sun

Bask in it
And relax
we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll watch me first
spread the soap over my *****
lift the *****
squeeze them,
then wash the ****:
"hey, this thing is still hard!"
then get all the hair down there,-
the belly, the back, the neck, the legs,
I grin grin grin,
and then I wash her. . .
first the ****, I
stand behind her, my **** in the cheeks of her ***
I gently soap up the **** hairs,
wash there with a soothing motion,
I linger perhaps longer than necessary,
then I get the backs of the legs, the ***,
the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her,
soap up the *******, get them and the belly, the neck,
the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet,
and then the ****, once more, for luck. . .
another kiss, and she gets out first,
toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in
turn the water on hotter
feeling the good times of love's miracle
I then get out. . .
it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet,
and getting dressed we talk about what else
there might be to do,
but being together solves most of it
for as long as those things stay solved
in the history of women and
man, it's different for each-
for me, it's splendid enough to remember
past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness:
when you take it away
do it slowly and easily
make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in
my life, amen.
Shea May 3
I woke up with a craving, but staying inside
Will save me from the world.
My tired eyes itch like a sweater,
I give up in a curl, and enjoy the colder weather.
Work the nerve to get up, it’s brave.
In my cave, I’d rather stay.
My feet touch the ground,
My ears are delighted by the sound
Of those ready to greet me, it’s me.
Staring steady in the mirror,
Observing the inches that have tightly stretched
Into a larger face.
I’ve shed this skin twice, the third will be the charm!
Wash my hands, cook, wash my hands, clean, wash my hands
Run them through my hair, wash, do, wash, fix, wash, wash, stop.
And the days roll by like numbers.
Michael DeVoe Mar 2011
I’ve scraped the bottom of a fish tank
I never owned one of those sucker fish
Saturdays that’s when I would clean the tank
I never liked it
When you scrape the tank all that green stuff floats around a gets stuck on your hand
I didn’t like that
I don’t like having ***** hands
It tells people where I’ve been
I don’t want people knowing where I’ve been
I don’t like to have been where I’ve been
I’d prefer I never was
I tend to tell people I never was
You can’t do that when you have dirt on your hands
I wash my hands
The sink knows where I’ve been
I forget a lot of things my sink knows
My sink knows a lot of things
When I was my hands
I use soap just to make sure
I don’t online date
I don’t need to
I have a girlfriend
She doesn’t wash her hands
I know where she’s been
I can see how many times she scraped the tank
She hasn’t scraped the tank too much
Not as much as I have
More than she knows I have
But less than my sink knows
If she ever knew she wouldn’t stay
I buy new shoes a lot
No dirt
I don’t like the dirt
The dirt gives me away
I hide from my dirt
Dirt is hard to hide from
It floats
It floats in the air I stir up when I run away from it
My girlfriend doesn’t look behind me
She will one day
I can’t stop it
She’ll leave me
I’ll wash my hands
I’ll forget
My sink won’t forget
She will not wash her hands
She won’t forget
I got rid of my fish tank
I won’t scrape it anymore
I never like doing that
Too much dirt
I’ll just **** the garden
My sink will know
She will not
Tomorrow will come before I am ready
It always does
Why wouldn’t it
It doesn’t know me
Doesn’t sympathize for my problems
Today’s dirt will still be there tomorrow
Tomorrow’s dirt is not here yet
I can’t wash the dirt before my hands touch it
My sink won’t let me
She asked my sink
It told her
She’s gone now
She has clean hands
She has clean shoes
She has clean knees
I have soapy hands
I have new shoes
The stains on my knees won’t come out
So I wear pants
I stopped weeding my garden
It’s too *****
I had potatoes
They were too *****
I asked tomorrow what its dirt will be
It won’t tell me
I can’t wash out dirt I don’t have on my hands yet
My sink won’t forget
I learn my lessons from my mistakes
I have not learned all of my lessons
I have not made all my mistakes.
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
Tom Leveille Aug 2014
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
There was once a girl named Caroline. Caroline was very lonely, as she did not have a family, or any friends. Caroline read a lot, which made her feel less lonely, but books couldn't love her back.

One day, Caroline decided she would make friends. She went to school and tried to talk to everyone one who walked by her, but nobody talked to her. She raised her hand, but the teacher wouldn't call on her. She sat alone at lunch, but she was still happy there were tater tots.

When Caroline got home, she went to take a bath, as she was very *****. Before she could turn on the water, a small voice called up to her. "Please don't turn the water on," the voice said, "The water will wash me down the drain!" Caroline thought for a second, and then decided to get a closer look.

When Caroline got closer, she noticed a spider in her bathtub. The spider didn't look scary, like her teachers had always told her they were. This spider looked small and scared. She decided to pick up the spider, rather than wash it down the drain. The small spider began to talk to Caroline very fast.

"Hello, my name is Ivy. Thank you for saving me. I know you must be very scared, but I am not a bad spider. There are some very scary spiders out there, but you don't have to be scared of me." Caroline looked at the spider curiously, and asked why a spider would live in the bathtub. "Well, nobody usually bothers me here. You're the first person to talk to me". Because Caroline didn't have any friends, and because she wanted to help the spider, she asked if Ivy would like to be her friend, and live somewhere with less water. "That would be lovely!" cried Ivy.

Every day, Caroline would come home from school and talk to Ivy and read to her. Caroline came to love Ivy very much, as Ivy always made her smile and laugh, or help her with her homework.

One day, Caroline came home and Ivy wasn't in her normal spot. Caroline went searching for her, but could not find her. Soon, she decided to take a bath. Caroline turned on the water, and then heard a much louder voice than she heard the day she met Ivy. As she looked down she spotted Ivy, avoiding the water.

"How dare you, Caroline! You almost drown me! You should've known I was in the shower!" Caroline was confused. "I'm sorry! I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you, so I came to take a bath. I didn't know you were in the shower!" To that, Ivy responded, "Well, I guess I forgive you, but make sure that you don't do it again."

As weeks went by, Caroline noticed Ivy listened to her stories most of the time, but some days she only pretended to listen. Caroline Blamed herself, because she almost drowned Ivy. Caroline kept reading and telling Ivy about her day, even when she was only pretending to listen.

A few weeks later, Caroline came home to find Ivy missing again. She searched all over for her, even the bathroom where she found her last time, but Ivy was nowhere to be found. Caroline knew it was time for her bath, so she went to the other bathroom, just incase Ivy was in the first bathroom.

When Caroline turned on the water, it ran for a few minutes before she heard a long yell. It was Ivy. She tried to apologize, but Ivy just kept yelling. Caroline turned off the water and tried to pick Ivy up to help her, but Ivy bit Caroline, so Caroline threw her down in pain. "Ow!" said Caroline "You bit me! I didn't mean to hurt you! I didn’t know you were there. I'm sorry. I just wish you would stop sitting in the bathtub…"

With this, Ivy only became more angry. "I was in the bathroom first! Nobody bothered me in here until you came along! This is my space, but you keep ruining it by turning on the water!" Caroline didn't know what to do, so she just started to cry. "I'm sorry Ivy. I just wish you wouldn't sit in the bathtub, because the water may wash you away one day, and I would be very sad to lose you. I love you a lot, Ivy. I'm just scared you might get hurt."

Ivy grumbled and told Caroline to leave her alone, because she didn't want a friend who hurt her like Caroline did. Caroline became very sad, but the spot where Ivy bit her began to hurt a lot, so she had to find somebody to help her.

The next day at school, she showed her teachers where Ivy had bitten her, and they tried to help her, but they only put burn cream on her and told her to wash Ivy down the drain. Caroline loved Ivy, and she did not want her to be washed away, she just wanted her to stop sitting where the water could hurt her. The burn cream didn't help.

After a very long time, Ivy crawled into Caroline's room and told Caroline she was sorry. The spot where Ivy had bit Caroline hurt a lot now, but the teachers would only give her something that didn't help, and hand her a bucket of water. Caroline felt bad for Ivy, so she let her come back into her room.

For the next few days, all was well. But after a week, Ivy was missing again. Caroline found her in the bathroom, so she tried to pick her up, but Ivy just bit Caroline in the same spot again. Caroline threw Ivy down and ran to her bedroom, followed by Ivy's angry voice.

Once again, Caroline told her teachers about Ivy and how she had bitten her in the same spot as last time. The teachers told Caroline they couldn't do anything more than they already had, and they ran out of water. Caroline went home with a very big spider bite, and an even bigger frown on her face.

Caroline was very confused now, because while she loved Ivy very very much, Ivy seemed to only love hurting Caroline. Caroline didn't want to lose Ivy, because Ivy was her first and only friend, but the teachers kept telling her she needed to see a doctor about the spider bite, and she needed to find her own water to wash Ivy away.

Caroline could not go to the doctor right now, because Ivy assured her she was not poisonous, and that she was only imagining the bite being as bad as it was. Caroline tried to stay away from Ivy, but Ivy kept coming into her room and then getting angry and leaving again, but that hurt Caroline too.

After several weeks, Caroline's bite hurt more than it ever had, so she went to the doctor. The doctor told her that it was in fact a spider bite (even though Caroline already knew this), but that only time could heal it.

Caroline went home very sad that day. When she got home, Caroline decided to pack up all of her books and get a bath, no matter if Ivy was in there or not, because Caroline was very *****.

When Caroline turned on the water, Ivy began to yell very loud. Caroline didn't hear her this time though, because she was leaving in an hour and she had to get a bath, and nothing but that mattered. Ivy flowed down the drain with the rest of the ***** water, and Caroline was once again clean.

An hour later, Caroline got onto the bus with her books and smiled, because she was clean again.

Epilogue

A few years later, Caroline looked down at the small scar on her hand where she had been bitten a few years ago. It still hurt every so often, but she knew this was a different kind of pain. The bright lights of the city gleamed down on Caroline and she smiled, because no spider was too big for her in a big city.
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
jammed,
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
You,
murmuring desire for me.
****!
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
closing-in,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
days,
hours;
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful elongated face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
Come!
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
flesh,
sinews,
everything,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

There,
Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
pops,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

Lying,
lying,
side-by-side,
lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
because,
please,
please  us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
Oh,
God,
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
Beautiful
long-haired,
skin tight,
upright,
wise,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
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Composed on 00:53, 21/09/2016 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We don't assume this means something.
A H J Nov 2017
engulfed in viridescent
i suffocate,
there’s no way my existence only live in one color!
at this rate, i will only absorb monochromatic colors-
boring, black and white colors-
my life isn’t an empty chess board!
my life is supposed to be a prism after sunlight, reflecting the colors of the rainbow rays after heavy rainstorm.
my life is supposed to be a clear cheerful lights that invite happy beams from every eyes that saw me!

where are those beams now?
there are,
but all of them are
impish
smiles.

it can’t be.
it can’t be.
now it’s only one solid color,
a color that allows me to be invisible.
perhaps
it’s better this way.
i would die rather than letting my morose colors transparent.

until when?
will i hide my colors forever?
but then, i will never witness the rays of the sun.
how will i refract rainbows, if i only let myself hide in the color of the night?

the sun.
the sun won’t come out.
but the clouds are here.
gray, heavy clouds leaking of water.

ah.
maybe i should wash my colors.
wash, wash, until i’m cleanse.
wash, wash,
the loud sounds of thunderstorm.
wash, wash, rain,
volatile sky projecting a vicious achromatic light.
let my colors melt in rain.

until my vicinity is filled with fluorescent bulbs,
‘til the sky is pastel,
'til holographic air diminish,
'til then,
i can see others beams,
and my own cheerful color
is the best one i could display so far.
showing your true self to others is hard. but it's not impossible.
Cweeta Cwumble Nov 2016
tight muscles, the pain,
the stress of the day,
you can wash it all away
with a glass of chardonnay,
easing the constant anxiety
that comes from the responsibility
of day-to-day reality.
flush it all down, along with your sanity
and just wash it all away.
Jo Nov 2014
Oh!  There it is!
The blood of my Mothers’
Sins
Blossoming on
My white sheets
Like a bouquet of English roses.
A shame -
Laundry day had
Been yesterday.  

My thighs have been painted
Rouge -
They blush
Like my cheeks
When my gaze
Lingers on my body
Too long in the mirror
As I put on my Sunday dress.

The needles in my
Lower back fill my
****** with blood -
I am a woman now -
And as such I must
Wake before the sun
And wash my sheets
And my body
Before anyone has a chance
To smell the iron and the shame
Between my legs.  

I have never been so
Acutely aware of my body:
My sore ******* feel like
Overripe tomatoes ready to burst,
My stomach bloated and taking up
Space I’m told is not ladylike -
My head throbs, my limbs ache, and
I continue to shed my insides.
How is it I never noticed
The cry of my body before?

A week of blood
Before I have served my sentence
For a woman
Who dared to disobey -
I clean the stains
And wash myself
Away.
I may come back to this later.
THE SEA-WASH never ends.
The sea-wash repeats, repeats.
Only old songs? Is that all the sea knows?
  Only the old strong songs?
  Is that all?
The sea-wash repeats, repeats.
as i'm laying down tonight
i think of how exhausting it is to wash you off my fingers
even if it's not like i ever get to hold your hand
or touch you, for that matter.
but everynight i have to wash your essence off my fingers
like trying to get rid of gasoline but always ending up
setting myself aflame. and that despite
knowing how dangerous and hazardous that **** could be
you just couldn't stop because you love the smell of gasoline
that fills up your lungs like pumps of adrenaline
right before the stench of your own burning flesh
chokes you to death. most nights, i wash you off like paint.
you can tell that i'm trying to forget what
i bled after your face appeared on the plain canvass
when my hand automatically reaches up and
perfectly colors your lips, and i couldn't help
but resemble them to pastel pink petals
of the roses growing in royal gardens
and i know i'm fooling everyone
making them believe that such expertise
is achieved because
your bottom lip have felt my gentle stroke when i
don't even know how your lips would feel when they quiver
under a curious and longing touch.
so i watch the colors spiral down the drain.
i watch my hands brush against each other
so intensely, trying to scrub the paint gone even
if it won't go away. even if the blood is clean.
even if i look clean.
how can loving you secretly be ever clean?
i'm scared it will never go away.
i am a painter in my own sense, capturing a glimpse
of something so intoxicating and aesthetically forbidden
then turning it into something tangible.
this is how painters show that their hearts
collapse with just a name
with just a glance not meant for their way.
and they paint what little of the hope
that shouldn't have been there in the first place
and every night. every single night they would aim
tirelessly to turn it into something they could allow.
something that could exist not only in my head.
something that i can call mine even if you
don't know that i am yours
and i knew this because your face
have begun to fill every blank wall
in my ******* house and i wonder how it is
possible to fall in love with someone the whole world
believes you shouldn't.
they say that when we turn our hands into fists
it is the size of our hearts.
and sometimes after the long hours of painting
i wash my paint-stained hands clean of
an abstract myriad of yellow and blue and black
and red. red for blood. red for love. red for fire.
i wash my paint-stained hands
turning them into fists
so maybe, just maybe
it will be the same
as getting rid of the colors off my young broken heart.
colors for you.
yet i always end up washing them off
with ******* gasoline.
and you still dare to call me 'smart'
i am an arsonist and a painter. i burned while i burst into colors. and you...you were the one that blurred my distinction between the two.
Cweeta Cwumble May 2016
I followed my dear friends to the edge of a cliff
and was greeted by a peculiar thing.
There, standing on the edge of the earth
was a swing set waiting just for me.
Her thick black seat and strong metal arms
cradled me while together we flew
into the starry night canvas, sprawling
dark blue, except for a splatter of twinkling
firefly-speckles, from the cityscape
to the moon.

Each time she lifted me I felt closer
to the heavens. I raised my chin
and let the gentle kiss of raindrops
wash away my sins, cleansing
and revitalizing my body like a baptism.
I’ll never forget the smell of the rain
on the freshly-sprouted grass, with dew drops
made from the breath of my friends
hanging delicately in the sweet air
like glass beads strung on a wire
while the crisp wind carried me higher and higher
and the most brilliant masterpiece ever created
was painted across the entire night sky.
irises Mar 2018
no matter how much
water i pour over my cracking hands

i can't wash away the feelings
of when you were here.

can't wash away all the memories we ever shared.
no matter how much i want to.

the scent of your skin
burns through my nose no matter how hard i try to
extinguish it.

the sound of your laughter
rings through my head despite
the crowd around me.

the view of you from behind
forever punctures my heart
even though i've long ago taken out the dagger.

i stand at the mirror
and try
to forget it all.

wash
wash away,
please.
Benji James Jun 2017
Oh bathing in the water
Cleansing my skin
Trying to wash away
All of my sins
Trying to bring
The best I have back out
Time to burn this heart to the core
I've got love want to release it all

Got a little feeling
Got a little spark
Yeah this fire
I want to light it up
Needed that feeling
To take hold
Needed this feeling
So I can bring it all

Purify me
Wash all this negativity
Away from me
I wanna feel that light
Shining brightly
Purify me
I wanna feel that
Warmth inside me
Purify me
Purify me

Time to shake
My world up
Time to change
This whole landscape
Positivity gotta let it
Shine in, shine so brightly
Come on these demons
They've taken enough from me
Time to believe
We can do better things
No more drowning
I need to breathe freely
From the mountain top
This time, I'll take the time
To enjoy the view
I'm changing me
Are you gonna change you, ooh

Got a little feeling
Got a little spark
Yeah this fire
I want to light it up
Needed that feeling
To take hold
Needed this feeling
So I can bring it all

Purify me
Wash all this negativity
Away from me
I wanna feel that light
Shining brightly
Purify me
I wanna feel that
Warmth inside me
Purify me
Purify me

Kicking these demons
Back to the kerb
Wash them away
back to the sea
I won't disappear
Got a smile on my face
Clearing up my soul
All this darkness inside
Can fill up with light
Let the sun shine
Heat this cold heart up
It's time to make a pact
Yeah time to restart

Got a little feeling
Got a little spark
Yeah this fire
I want to light it up
Needed that feeling
To take hold
Needed this feeling
So I can bring it all

Purify me
Wash all this negativity
Away from me
I wanna feel that light
Shining brightly
Purify me
I wanna feel that
Warmth inside me
Purify me
Purify me

Rewriting this story
From the start
It all begins here
Past memories
Only hanging on to the good
Letting go of the bad
Learnt from mistakes
That made me angry or sad
Time to let go, time to look forward
Leave all those mistakes
That I've made
Cleanse it away
Yeah cleanse it away

Got a little feeling
Got a little spark
Yeah this fire
I want to light it up
Needed that feeling
To take hold
Needed this feeling
So I can bring it all

Purify me
Wash all this negativity
Away from me
I wanna feel that light
Shining brightly
Purify me
I wanna feel that
Warmth inside me
Purify me
Purify me

©2017 Written By Benji James
Emelie S Sep 2016
The Crash, The Sound, The Ringing

There goes the moment flashing itself by.

There goes your heart (I think I heard it stop beating)

You’re expressions gives you away, the fear is all there.

The horror sits like a rock and your eyes betray you.

But that’s alright, that’s aright

(Take it all, breath in, breath out)

There goes the crashing down

I hear the sound ringing over and over in my head.

The horror, please wash it all away from these trembling fingers

Wash it away, Take it away, Wash it away…

But that’s alright, that’s aright

(Take it all, breath in, breath out)

There is a moment of silence when you think that everything is okay.

But then there goes the crushing sound.

There goes your heart (I think I heard it stop beating)

You’re expressions gives you away, the fear is all there.

The horror sits like a rock and your eyes betray you.

But that’s alright, that’s aright

(Take it all, breath in, breath out)

There goes the crashing down

I hear the sound ringing over and over in my head.

The horror, please wash it all away from these trembling fingers

Wash it away, Take it away, Wash it away…

But that’s alright, that’s aright

(Take it all, breath in, breath out)

The ring is in my head, the thumping sound I hear it from your heart.

The crashing sounds like waves of truth.


Em. S
*Copyright © 2016
Copyright © 2016
Redshift Feb 2013
this is what
washing your hands looks like.

every useless night
i stayed up till 3am
to talk to you
i'm washing off my thumbs
off my eyes
off my heart.

every afternoon
i walked to the park
and you called me
inbetween
all the other girls you call
and i picked at flowers
in the 90 degree heat
looking at
my dusty feet
wishing...
i wash off
of me.

every time
i examined your face
looking for that smile
that hid from me
sometimes...
every ripple in your arm
every bit of your shoulder
i wash off of
me.

all the smiles
i composed for you
all the laughs
i trained perfectly
every freckle
every spark in my eye
every time
i told you that i loved you
i wash off of me.

every time
i tried so hard
to talk to you
to let you know
how it felt
every time
i hurt for you
for the lies
you fed me
i wash them off
of me.

every
single
fight
every
single
word
every
single
breath
i breathed
with you
every curl of my toes
every time
i destroyed you
i wash it
off
of
me.

every lie
every tear
every cut
i cut for you
i wash with soap
stinging
blinding
but finally
leaving.
he doesn't deserve this one either.
Sam Bowden Dec 2017
Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
I want the stain of her removed,
from every scrap of everything.
Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
Singe her stench from my soul,  
burn every fiber of my being.

Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
I want to be free of her memory,
and the song that we'd sing.
Singing, Oh, Lord,
Grant me renewal,
give me grace.
I can still taste your love,
though now it’s a bitter taste.

— The End —