Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dead Rose One Apr 2018
Abbreviations of the Life Human

these little stories, bejeweled poeticals, long tall tales,
short-held breaths from the savings account breast,
all slow withdrawing-dawning,
all are but the abbreviations of the life human

my fav of course,
the one, the twenty six
the aleph best bet


4-16-18 10:47pm
a mondo Monday survivors prayer
Umi May 2018
And thus when the sun would rise, it should be determined;
I had lost, failed to wipe out the transience of a dreams miracle,
Leaning back as the stars fade one after another in the brightening sky
I find myself smiling, at the disappearing sight of the lunar rabbit after the moon too had sunken down to rest without a single cloud having witnessed it, the heavens remain only filled with great light.
While everyone rejoyed with a big smile to the morning which welcomes them to be again, hard working and productive, I can't help it but to feel sad, having to accept my destiny of never breaking free.
The fleeting time passes aimlessly, only for me to have faint courage,
Glooming, one would even embrace the darkness which befalls the world at a time which ceases to let even crystal starlight seep through,
This is where the dreams created in the world of fantasy are born,
That's a repeated story, they bloom, scatter then fall, recycling again.
Shining and withdrawing itself, there is always my presence in a dream, so dance in the dark night my beloved servant, have we really lost if I do not fade away and perish ~ ? Yes, we have, sadly enough.
Yet I should engage ourselves with the solance;
I don't have to die in a dream.

~ Umi
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
There are times when the Lord will take from us every familiar thing and send all the others away to have us to Himself, uprooting and dismantling our earthly anchors until we find no safe place of attachment but to Him alone. And though we search feverishly to secure another, He will faithfully cut off our efforts at every pass and every attempted by-pass, almost as though we could see them being escorted out the door, marching one after the other in file and possibly taking our sanity with them. “No, not another one! Where are they all going and why am I not invited?” But it is His alone to give or not to give, to give and take away.

The One Who took up the cross and took the cup of the Father’s wrath for us has the absolute right to take anything and everything from us at any time for whatever reasons might please Him. But know this for certain: concerning His redeemed, those reasons will always involve two things—glory and intimacy. They are the overriding answers to every lingering question of “Why?”.

But if we fail to understand His glorious and intimate intentions we may misconstrue our losses to be a sign that He is actually withdrawing His affection from us. The very things which He is doing for love’s sake to perfect our pathway to intimacy might be taken instead for obstacles blocking it, causing us to doubt His love. We could not be more wrong, but sometimes it's so hard to see through the veil of pain.

For it's a strange and bewildering thing to feel that you belong to no place and no person in this world, to have nowhere to call home and no one to share it with if you did. A severe untethering indeed that though meant to prepare us for flying can seem to us more like drowning. The sobering truth is that none of us belong to this life or the things of this earth; all sense of it is only an illusion, and pain and loss are simply the dispelling of the myth—the rude awakening from a bewitching dream we once had. But oh how we fight the disillusionment.

Maybe we remember a time when we had prayed to be refined, to be made more like Jesus, but we didn’t know it would have to hurt so bad and take so long and look so dark and feel so lonely. Even if we have understood and embraced His call to deeper intimacy we may after a while, when nothing seems improved either around us or in us, start to resent our belonging to such a determined and jealous Lover, though He is doing exactly what we had once asked Him to. We may start to think we can no longer bear anything except that which superficially distracts us from our grief. We may even start to give up hope, for if not anchored exclusively “behind the curtain” and if repeatedly crushed it threatens to **** our hearts for good should we have to face one more disappointment.

We may feel very much like we are flailing around in a deep and darkening ocean, repeatedly pulled under by the powerful tow and thrashing waves of overwhelming emotion and continuously knocked back by the brutal winds of confusion. Yet we can still see the unshakable boat of faith and truth standing solidly only a small distance away. We know it is real and that if we could just reach it we would be safe. We hear someone shouting through the din, “Just hold onto the boat! The boat will save you. Look beyond your feelings and walk by faith. Hold onto truth!” But can’t they see that as hard as we may try we have no strength to swim to the boat? Can’t they see that we are sinking?

And so we are left with nothing but to cry out to Jesus, to cry out to Him to bring the boat to us, to come Himself and rescue us. Do we have that much faith? Enough to just say, “Jesus, help me! I’m drowning!”? Enough to see that He is our only hope and nothing else matters apart from Him?

Because when we do, we will understand that this hope in Him alone is the very lifeline by which He will pull us to safety—back to faith, back to truth, back into His intimate arms of love, back into a peace which passes all understanding and into a joy that gives us strength for the journey.

As difficult as it can be in our grief to hear the Lord whispering truth to our hearts above the constant clanging of our feelings, we must now more than ever choose to take the time to be still and seek our soul’s rest in Him and in His promises. But how amidst such clamor and confusion?

Simply decide to cast your cares on Him, if only for the moment, by climbing into His Shepherd’s lap to look and loiter and listen. And if you have no energy to climb up, then just lift your arms and ask Him to pick you up. And if you haven’t the strength even for that, only raise your eyes toward Him and you will soon find your sanity restored as you behold His love for you. Ask Him earnestly to let you see it afresh, for perhaps you have been temporarily blinded from recognizing it.

Stop everything; cease just for this minute from all worry, anxiety, fear and anger. Forget the past and do not look toward the future. Focus only on this moment right now, as if you knew it would be your last, as if it were the very one to lead you into eternity. Inhale like fresh air the powerful promises of God’s Word. Soak in their grace and drink in their healing, keeping your eyes fixed on Jesus’ face. Can you see Him longing for you? Exhale every distraction, conflict and uncertainty of this world. Then listen... What is He saying to you right now? Wait for it, then let your soul rest in it, and let go of everything else. Rest in the grace of this present moment and in His strong, sure arms. Let Him take care of you, wounded one, for you are His beloved, and He longs to tend your broken and needy heart.

"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
    my hope comes from Him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation;
    He is my fortress, I will not be shaken."
~ Psalm 62:5-6

"The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise,
    and I have been saved from my enemies.
The cords of death entangled me;
    the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
    the snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called to the LORD;
    I cried to my God for help.
From His temple He heard my voice;
    my cry came before Him, into His ears...
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
    He drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
    from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
    but the LORD was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place;
    He rescued me because He delighted in me."
~ Psalm 18:2-6,16-19

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf..."
~ Hebrews 6:19-20a
I'm your nightmare, your secret desires exposed.
  I'm cops with cuffs pounding on your front door.
  I'm the bottom you finally reached.
They refuse to fill prescriptions.
Dealers won't extend you credit anymore.
  I shake your bones giving it all up,
  withdrawing from all your lovely sins. I remind
  you of your child you stood up all those holidays.
  I'm a sweet vengeance for all your faults and assaults.
  I'm every wicked dream you've ever dreamed  or ever will.
Conscience is a nasty beast that is less Jiminy Cricket and more like the most critical ***** you've ever encountered!
Logan Robertson Jun 2017
Life's Predispositions

In the chapel of his soul
and in the steeple of his mind
votive candles burn,
bright and iridescent,
red, yellow, green
and blue.
He sits in there,
a chapel for one,
in a mist
of confusion,
in a mess,
searching for answers,
as his life is waning,
like an Autumn wind
blowing the pages of his life
... stillness,
of bookmarks,
still on page one,
he hatched, once.
All around him,
and cold,
like a winter chill,
snow banks withdrawing,
his sad existence.
Still he looks up
to Jesus on the cross.
In the chapel of his soul
and in the steeple of his mind
votive candles burn,
bright and iridescent,
another rainbow stretching
it's arcs for him.
He backs away.
He bemoans life,
it's endowments on him.
His parent's mistake
on a dark, eerie
loveless night...
and their cutting words
"You were a mistake,"
that grew on him,
like barnacles
clinging to him,
eating away his buoyancy,
like a ship sinking.
In the birth of another spring,
flowers blossoms,
rivers gushing down
mountains and mountains
of pollination,
he has a lone branch
waiting ... somewhere.
Such stillness.
Such stigmatization
from his parents
loveless past.
A mistake they conceded.
It had an effect on him,
darker than the blackest sheep
that he was.
What predispositions.
When the summer harvests
fields smiling their wares,
he scowled
he scowled the corn,
the changing seasons,
his short change
of life.
Why are the birds
singing to me?
The voices
in his head
What message thou
bring to an orphan?
Still he looks up
to Jesus on the cross.
His eyes squint.
Dad, mom.
And whispers words
that don't need
to be said,

Logan Robertson

Andrew Oct 2017
I live in a world
Where we pet deer with cars
So we set our emotions in jars
The cops drive with broken headlights
And nobody knows what's right
Yet we're not allowed to fuss
Because we're on a prison bus
So I dream of the days
I'll get to see the freeway

You got in my car
That didn't go far
You decided to call a taxi
Because I was so taxing
I got under your skin like a cyst
And I became your taxidermist

You jumped in my town car
That became a clown car
You made me feel like a star
And then left me on Mars
Where I lived out the back of my hearse
Patiently waiting for a compatible nurse

I found myself in an ambulance
Withdrawing from all your medicine
I couldn't get out of the trance
Your bulldozer left me embedded in
After being rolled in the muck
I became a monster truck

I wish you were a convertible
So I could at least get a nibble
For you handle a road of ugliness with grace
It's the same daunting road I cowardly face
We just can't travel together
That's how we'll travel forever
I just wish you could know
The places my car will go
Lawrence Hall Dec 2018
The winter solstice is the year withdrawing
From all the busy-ness of being-ness,
And life in all its transfigurations
Seems lost beyond this cold, mist-haunted world

Time almost stops. Low-orbiting, the sun
Drifts dimly, drably through Orion’s realm
Morning becomes deep dusk; there is no noon
Four candles are the guardians of failing light

Until that Night when they too disappear
Beneath a Star, before a greater Light

Lawrence Hall
Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go
Available from on Kindle and as bits of dead trees
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Robert C Ellis Nov 2018
My grandmother was stained glass refracting light
Like stars reaching in degrees of Cassiopeia
An ode to the nearest pregnancy
Iron salts and tannic acids forging
The screams emerging from the
Seas all kicking legs
And Social Security
We lay conversations at her feet
And admire the painting, veins of
Chloroplast crazing
Porcelain ****** expressions
withdrawing from sunlight, Returning to soil for
a very hearty linseed oil
Her hands snapped from toil
Red river slipping her mind away
The constellations are lit and boil
Praise be to God, anno dominae
Genieve Feb 7
The eyes,
cornered me to the sides,
Such same souls but seems so distant,
Trying to fit in but I seem so different,
Putting effort to open up but there's no connection,
Ended up sitting in a different direction.

The thoughts,
Coming in against all the odds,
Overpowering my positive mind,
Leaving me with all the negative signs,
Without any explanation I can find,
I can only hide behind.

The face,
Trying to act like I'm not going through some phase,
But only aloofness ended up surfacing,
Trying to clear up the misunderstanding,
Fighting inside while you started withdrawing,
Feeling helpless inside, crying.

The guilt,
Engulfing me like a quilt,
Creating problems that weren't even there,
Causing your discomfort coming out from nowhere,
Want to show that I do care,
But I'm still trying to grasp for air.

The reality,
Is this some kind of cruelty?
To someone who is not well mentally.
Everyone faces the same thing, they say,
This is just a part of growing up, they sway,
Trust me this is just their way,
To keep their insecurities hidden away.

The sensitivity,
Every little things are magnified,
People's kind gestures became hidden motives,
Mind rotating circles like a lost detective,
Couldn't snap out of the mind's hyperactive,
I sincerely hope for one's forgive.

The loneliness,
Is the **** truth of this sickness,
The insecurities are just hidden below,
Creeping so quietly in beneath like an evil dark crow,
We try to hide, we try to run but it just won't go.
Sometimes it's not because we don't show,
It's just because you don't know.
What scares the most is what you can't control, what you can't hide, what you can't reveal and what you can't explain. That's why, people don't know. Hence, loneliness.

— The End —