H Bacon
2021-08-18 06:36 pm
‘O Romeo Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo’, The birds sing along to Juliets cries, Is it so wrong to want a Tudor love, Lived through 21st century eyes. To kill yourself to be with them, Rather than have to live alone, It truly makes you understand, The idea that a person can be a home. And though some may call this type of love shallow, I say they’re lies from a person who does not relate, The need of a love so sweet and tragic, United by fate.
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Lynn
2021-07-27 10:45 pm
what sleeps in the forest beside the highway? what lays its small head on dismembered takeout boxes and curls up beneath plastic bags emblazoned with ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’? does it give thanks for small polyurethane luxuries? for the refuse it calls its refuge? what feeds on the grease and fumes from the roaring mechanical parade? does it lick its lips afterwards? what learns to cross the glimmering cement - first timidly, then wanton and triumphant after practice? what watches? what does it notice? what emerges from the forest beside the highway, large and lumbering, to repay the generosity of its benefactors in kind?
Gord
2021-03-15 04:46 am
Canon roar, castles go, Grab ahold, gravel road, A rabbit grows, As does his habits, A hobbit grows, Shrinking his jacket. Life a la mode, What matters most, When paddling boats? Loneliness, A partner to boast, Havoc that leaves you alone.
Knoble Kaller
2021-02-05 01:34 am
How much does she do with things of me and you Throughout the light of day Pining life away How much does she do for people in the room From cradle to the grave All rising and depraved How much does she do keeping busy till night falls Exchange excitement for a fall Off to slumber fore he calls How much does she do no time left for you Wanting only to be near And support when things go queer How much does she do unwilling ne’er to bend Or experience more than friends No intimacy on the mend How much does she do Till the end
Lynn
2021-01-13 05:29 pm
holding the box between two fingers so it does not fall the hand is not pandora’s; she has been dead for centuries inside the lid, an amateur’s attempt at a cumulonimbus the sky behind them greener than the clouds before a tornado the clouds themselves whiter than the dust after what will become of the box? will it house bangles and bracelets and small forgotten memories? will the hinges rust and the sky become separated from the ground? will it ever find its way home?
Gord
2020-12-23 03:32 pm
Drawing breath, intending a scream, Time passes, wake from dreaming, Sometimes excessive zeal demeans, So squeak like the law itself, Garlic men, in the broadest sense, Concentrate on the bread when pressed, But what of butter and how it melts? Even of appalling strength, Does it correspond to depth, or meaning? Rocking chair, what have you seen, Beside the bedside and people watching? Even if time lacking, population immense, Despite desperate pleas: fences.
Lynn
2020-12-17 01:12 pm
sitting on the red couch eating rice and beans straight from the pot the rice is undercooked and toothy it sticks to my spine it burns my throat picking around green peppers while the south winter sun runs through the window and reflects off the floor and is blinding bright it burns my eyes it doesn’t feel warm at all despite the two pairs of socks and layered shirts and oh i’m so tired. might just. wrap up in a blanket and go to sleep.
Innasense
2020-10-10 09:54 pm
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
Blake Garner
2020-09-15 10:47 am
No secrets You keep me speechless, I can not lie I hate that I love you, If you knew the damage Would you love me correctly, The hell you put me through I no longer want to be on the ride, You knew I from the start That I fall hard and fast, I try to feel ok While you play with my emotions, There's no need to explain If you think what your doing is ok, I can try to get up and feel ok again But I'm just domino in your game, Does this make you feel better Being on top in this one sided love, I wake up in terror To ask myself what am I doing here, Why do I let myself endure The torture of your love, I can not lie I love you, No more holding inside This dirty little secret I keep, I'm tired of the mistreatment I'm tired of the avoidance, You say I hurt you From a drunken fight, Its time to bring to light Your drunken words, When we met you knew I was unwell, One night amongst your drunken lips You spoke to me a terrible fate, It haunts me in my thoughts The DJ to my demons party, You spoke love sober Yet you spoke death drunk, Your tinder lips slipped I wish you would've died, You hated me for what I did You hated the fact I was broken, I set it aside for the sheer fact That I love you truly, However you still to this day Blame my mental instability, I try so hard every day I fight for my next breath.
Gord
2020-07-21 05:28 pm
A voice brittle, fawning, Lost in eyes are appearance, Yet words speak like songbirds, Though simple, like acrostics. If you can understand the point, Does also your voice hurt, from screaming? Do you need more caustic ideas, to dissolve your dreams? My meaning, yours, Our meeting curt, Can I find you feeding on lifeless birch, With food superior for a life of wood? Who fights against fascist sons, Racist daughters to which they sum? Who resolves just to be, Sits aside until the burning stops. What is beauty in a psalm? Without the son, the daughter, Is the sport lost? Where the ice is more soft, A cross stick, a want, Whistle wanton, a decision. To sit in a box, with conscious, Or a sideline life to correspond With your winnings.
Gord
2020-06-11 05:50 am
The bar too low, A life in limbo. Civil man elicit, Dance too rigid. Cancer, victim, Lance too frigid. Is life another rhyme? Saved for another time, or just a bunch of lies? Head and shoulders, Knees and hipbones. But does god see soles, Planted into the beach? How does god see souls, Managed funds and stealing? While reaching into homes, to take his piece? A plastic man, made for shelves, Laughs filling his fantastic needs.
Lynn
2020-06-07 12:25 am
i see sunday mornings beyond my time. does sunday still exist? i see my history yawning out before me. can corpses exist on both edges? i see my mother. can grief follow a child out of the womb? time, death, and life roll the die to see which takes their turn first. west and north argue over the sun while east and south clutch each other, wailing. god's suicide passes through us concentric circles of chaos look, there is too much blood in the streets!
Gord
2020-06-04 12:25 am
The toad speaks, the mind sees, The mouse squeaks of menses; Too high to sleep, ego flying, Does one write lines on sheets? Scribble perfection, or deny? Fights cannot be won, only survived. Poet, please give me writing, Forced to be, I need power to fight.
Gord
2020-05-28 05:14 am
Why does the torrent travel? Where is the lively forest? Even the poorest trees flourish, Their coins worthless, Poinsettia, wide oceans. For my set list chosen, What does forum or castles have? Gravel walls, gravel flooring, People with their comfort lush, Their lives worthless, Political science, flyers, Quotients.
azuresky96
2020-05-26 07:27 pm
Tell me how the sunset lightens your life Does it glow in a way you like? Tell me about the flowers you looked at Did you pick every single one? Tell me oh tell me about the time When your heart grew sad and tired. Do you let the feelings out? This moon keeps the sparkle in me It energizes my thoughts in every way. Do you feel the same? Tell me Tell me about the moon.
Gord
2020-03-12 06:39 am
Wishing to find the guardrails of life, Leaning against as he sleeps too tightly, Dreams too deeply, too often: Nightly. Gut or balls, what does it take to fight? Is it twice as woke to never, and lie, Guarded and cross, who takes your rights? How about the lefts? Right.
Gord
2020-03-01 11:56 am
Do oranges have soul? Does it make the juice taste more? When I eat them, do they know? Sparkling orange meat oceans Hope to hold Could I, myself, become a bowl? Alas, to be Mimosa Mix Can Oranges feel regrets and woes? Drink my blood straight from my chest Pop a bottle Drink some more My heart's behest
Gord
2020-01-24 07:18 am
She says with her eyes: I am gone, Evil days begone though. Friday I am home, Peace be with you, they say some words; "Does a partridge purr? Does a catalogue write itself?" Words themselves can be like a cone, Until one meanders about the dwelling. Lonely girl, what do I know? Is not the world yours to sell? Would Lucky keep a sword or bow? Would she emblazon her chest, With Lions, giants, family crests, Sayings of young exuberance, No room for the later lessons. Spear and shield, All you need is God's help, Divine wealth, stature, Time and a long winter, Along those lines, I feel you'll get better. No sous vide or fried Kelp.
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