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When She Was Young

                              When She Was Young
When she was young she would sleep 
holding her dreams in her hand next 
to her heart to protect them from being 
forgotten now that she is older she sleeps 
dreading to dream as her hands cannot hold 
them any longer.

When she was young her dreams had a meaning 
they lightened up her mornings opening her 
balcony to breath the fresh air to look towards 
the mountains and feel the sensation of climbing 
to the peak watch the other side & peep to the 
beauty she could reach out to,being younger & 
having the courage that tomorrow she can do it.

When she was young she was glad of life 
because it gave her the chance to fall in love 
to work to play to look at the stars.

Now that she is older she opens her balcony 
and sees a black fog hiding her view the mountains 
don't exist her hopes are mixed up there is a deep 
valley, the trees are withered the path is blocked 
the birds are screaming their nests are gone 
the grass is suffering because of the wind changed 
its direction running away taking everything 
that might still be alive.

If only she knew how getting older would feel 
when she was younger she would have intentionally 
grabbed each day by force and lived each moment 
instead of having to have lived only to give her 
whole existence to everybody, she would have had 
time to keep the mountains view look alive she 
would have kept seeing a clear path with no end 
she would have told the trees not to die she would 
have told the blowing wind to keep her birds nests alive
she would have asked her dream not to let her grow olde 
her dream answered her.
My friend if I could do that trust me I would have 
fulfilled your dream.
Yet, she loved when she was younger, 
she loves getting older, and she loves 
living today each Moment, Now.

 Therese Bacha

'Smothered No More'

Bounded by fear - 
Do you still remember that?
When I would build my walls;
I would let no one in
I would look for ways to cut them off
Especially those who got too close 

Do you remember when I said?
It was for their own good 
In the meantime you knew it was the fear talking
Afraid of the consequences
Feeling that if I let them in, 
They might be hit by misfortune

I never thought it would come to this
I never thought the fear would dissipate –

Replaced by faith 
Replaced by the knowledge 
That everything that happened 
Had to happen

In order for me to let go
To stop myself from stifling my growth 

I needed to embrace the pain, 
Embrace the laughter,
Even the fear of losing loved ones 

I needed to let go – 

I needed to experience the hurt 
I needed to experience the joy
I needed to experience the fear
I needed to fail, 
I needed to fall

So I can stand today
Knowing that no matter what happens
My mind,
My body 
My soul 
Is ready to go on –

That fear can be toppled by faith 

If I focus on me 

Focus on today and not on my past


A Broken Dream

Through the gates of a mysterious garden,
Eyes glinting in the moon,
A sudden wind caught my hair,
Dark chambers, a choking sound in the shadows,
Unlatching the threads of a defiled soul.

Feet cold on the grass,
And I stood listening.
The darkling seas beyond moan,
Unearthing the sepultures,
Secretly buried in their womb.

Torn petals upon my palms lay,
Engravings shrunken and old,
Of some forgotten verse.
The boughs were dancing there,
The night sky, their flowers mirrored shimmering,
Echoing their song of some broken dream.
((... I walked away from the ancient ruins,, a glimpse at those hidden hollows,, slipping into the silence.))

A Faithful Friend

                                             A faithful friend
                                                 trust me
                                        even though I can be
                                        somewhat unreliable

                                             A faithful friend
                                              believe in me
                                           even though I tell
                                     which may seem incredibly

                                            A faithful friend
                                               listen to me
                                           even though I say
                                           something stupid

                                            A faithful friend
                                           will always listen
                                            to what I have
                                               to convey

A-L Andresen :)

(2nd place in the contest)

After Dieting

After Dieting Me, finally free I’ve untied my hands And let them explore Greedily Soft and rigid Hard and pliable Textures and smoothness, Merge Grabbing a succulent treat My fingers grip The lurid wrapper Twist I shovel the chocolate devil Through parted lips Madness consume me A.D.
For Dahlink D Guzzo's contest

All In A Moment's Time

A white blanket will fall upon January.
It will cover my heart and freeze my soul
into solitaire. A love will blossom in the
mist of February. Unknown to me, that 
love will remain a mystery.

My luck will fail in the medows of March.
For my life will deplete and become parched.
Still - my heart will break in the hands of April.
A story that only time will tell.

A tear shall fall at the end of may, but even now
I don't know what day. The sun will peak over the 
horzion in June, still my sadness will conquer
the afternoon.

Explosions of flashing lights will fill the night skies
of July. As I sit here with my memories that have
gone and passed me by, but I will rest here in 
the lap of August.

Maybe one day my love will realize that I loved
him/her the strongest. The days I did lose in
the oceans of September - are the days that
I wish , I could remember.

We will plant seeds in October. Hopefully we
will become wiser and act older. Autumn is to 
become a great friend of November. How they 
will meet - I can only ponder. 

Now my visions begin to fade in the silence of 
December To understand them - is to know
life's everlasting embers...

Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo

At Loss for Words

I sit here in my little cyberboat on this monstrous sea
of words and phrases,fed by all the electronic rivers
of the world. I've been here often and fished freely
and not without success. At times, I pulled out diverse
bits of tricky wordplay to express my moods, fears
and longings. I rowed out to a deeper area this evening
determined to set my poles right and send my hooks years,
many years deep, to find those expressions existing
in unmined dark depths that swim in light phosphorescent,
unmatched and of their own making, smart and competent,
all like you my friend, independent, beautiful and intelligent.
I returned to shore without a catch, no brightly relevant
words to express how lovely a few hours and a lunch could be,
how my heart skips at good-byes, how valuable you are to me.

Beautiful Bella

Beautiful baby Bella
Grew into a  greatly gifted girl.
She sang songs solely for soldiers,
Homesick for hugs from their honeys.
But Bella fell fast for a friendly fella,
So now she sings solos solely for him.

 For Alliteration contest 9/7/11

Best for Last

Best for last

Lizard lips
Blizzard tips
Cow pies
Cannon fodder
Tobacco breath
Primitive Quest
Papilloma’s daughter
Whale droppings
Frantic knocking
Eutectic solder
Anal eyes
Flabby thighs
Don’t bother

Petal pink
Purple ink
Sugar water
Melon slice
Sticky rice
Bubbly juice
Fruit tree
Pretty feet
Bustin loose
Air guitar
Morning star
Spruce goose
Genius type
No hype
Sweet night

BILLYtheKidster Is Dead

BILLYtheKidster is dead.
A fatal bullet penetrated the Kidster's head.
He heard the screaming of a woman being mugged or raped
and ran to her aid to try and save her from her fate.
Her assailant however possessed a weapon.
The last sound the Kidster heard was the blast of a gun.
The bullet struck the Kidster square in his face.
His murderer is still at large. Authorities don't have a trace.

The above was a nightmare that I had last night.
It awoke me from my sleep, so I thought it worth a write.

Sorry if I alarmed anyone.

Black Witch

Born and raised as a little child in a Witches’ coven,
the Black Witch was indeed a very precocious child
whose hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s oven,
and like Medusa herself was a creature gone wild.

The Black Witch had a craggy, malevolent demeanor
and at a glance was stark, sinister, menacing and unholy, 
with jet black snake-like hair making her even meaner;
she was a reincarnated spirit dispelling all things good and holy.

The Black Witch was imbued with uncanny, unearthly powers
and had dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart was prominent among her powers,
and protruded close to the tip of her nose from the time of her conception.

She used the bile, putrid liquid extracted from her black wart to capture
and poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted;
she acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts to the highest rapture
while using her Gorgon-grimaced face to strike fear in all who resisted.

As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One,
the Black Witch possessed a withering and wicked mesmerizing gaze
used masterfully to corrupt and control souls for the Dark One,
dooming her victims forever to a land with an impenetrable haze.
The Black Witch brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.

Intoning “Our Father, which wert in Heaven,” the Black Witch
began her Black Mass sessions with spirited evil and debauchery,
conjuring terrifying dreams and consigning victims to a black pitch
all the while laughing and reveling in all the evil and debauchery.

The Black Witch delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was the Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.

To know the Black Witch was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever 
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
The Black Witch was granted the power of all hell-spawned demons forever
to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (August 19, 2014)
(Rhymed Quatrain)

Blackberry Picking

I see grandmother's bonnet moving above the bramble.

My mother tells me not to keep eating berries. 
My little pail fills so slowly.

mouth drips purple juice
clothes torn, skin bleeding, itching
spill berries again

Bound Together

am she
who seized the
storm and hushed the
Zephyr's rage to sleep;
the fierce within your soul,
the solace within your dreams.
I am your stained submissive lips
wanting, yet loathing; bare and alone,
oozing with lust filled memories; undone.
I am the bold stare when your eyes fear sight,
watching replays of your meant future,
whispering, I am no angel,
in your anxious, enthused ear.
I am your mind at night,
all you hold in sight,
your hearts lament,
deep inside;
I am

Brazen Witches

Pushed from birth to be, to do, to say …
not the desired form,
neutered in a cocksure world
like a brood mare past her prime.

"Shhhh, be silent silly little one."
They say, the teacher, the parent,
the son? No son, so, no sunshine.
Such is life on this road traveled.

Life for the brazen vixen witches, who speak.
Standing tall in a pint size vessel of pretty.
Reaching high, rising on Escerhian staircases
of anxiety and pure guts.
Birthing men, leaders, leading them,
they are the puppet masters of King’s,
prodded prodigy of the bored
 masculine masses.

To be, never enough, 
the fat free ice cream of deserts,
doing their all on the side streets …
Hooking the fat fish by their gold chains,
"Shhhh, be quiet, vessel "
Don’t dare dance.
Sing, sing of a checker board existence
into a Parcheesi night …

Wring the power from those self ordained.
Wretch the wicked from pedestals of white.
Hurl the hackneys money grubbers to the mulch
for this traveler will take no mainline.

Canopy of Shade

Tree on top of hill
extends its boughs, offering
a canopy of shade. 

Chiffon Lace

Chiffon Lace

So much that I want in you
And so much to push aside
So much they try to stop me
And so much I try to hide
So much, let's come together
So much, and then I cried
So much this fuqqing weather
It's too much
I fuqqing tried
You're all I feel inside me
Inside I feel so high
Sometimes I see you see me
And sometimes afraid to fly
Sometimes I say you're "My Girl"
And sometimes I see me lie
So stay let's play forever
Someday you'll feel the same
Just stay and we're together
Today let's watch the rain
Today to come inside you
Today I feel this pain
Someday I'll get to hold you
Someday you'll hold me too
That way I see inside you
I hope to see you soon
Then one day we'll watch the sun rise
From the bottom of the sea
We'll laugh and play together
Forever you and me...

   by Christian Alexander