As we watch the girl stumble inside of her cage.
We wait, from without, and we shout out directions.
Answers opposing, our voices clang together --
As useful as banging of pots to the floor.
Enslaved, she carries the weight of his weakness.
Pulled to bloody knees, she dare not cry out.
While around us were blue skies and grasses so green,
Her sky was obsidian, with dust at her feet.
Filled with remorse, bruises deepen and spread
Into scars and disease she thinks cannot heal.
The patchwork girl, with no shroud for cover,
Lay broken and hollowed in chains of defeat.
I cried for so long, so many nights,
and now no more tears can drop,
I'm all out, do you have some to spare,
cause you know once I start, I can't stop.
I go on for days with a heavy heart,
no tears fall, though inside I'm crying,
I feel empty, hollow, dark inside,
a soul dead, and still is dying.
Can I fill a bucket from your well,
the sun came out, dried up my rain,
I'll take them carefully, try not to spill,
cause I've got a need to ease the pain.
That feeling of washing away the sorrow,
with trickling tear-water, clear and cool,
soothes the soul, relaxes the ache,
can I dive right into your swimming pool?
I need to pour out your flowing brook,
to keep me crying a river for today,
I want to hold despair in my hands,
please let this melancholy feeling stay.
"Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." - Percy Shelley
Do not tell me to smile
while tears run down my cheek,
just because I am melancholy
does not mean I am weak.
I cannot fake happiness
these are real tears I cry,
if they are invisible to you
I really wonder why.
They say look on the bright side
and this only makes me mad,
my emotions are not hidden
I am unafraid to be sad.
You cannot understand it
wished, prayed for it to go,
these sorrows you tried to end
yet, this is all I know.
Tears flow through my veins
not the red blood of life,
this heart sobs, it does not beat
outpouring all my cares and strife.
I am happy in sadness
not in a fake smile,
so, let my tears fall
I want to be sad for awhile.
If you hate sad poetry
than I am not for you,
I will write a "happy" poem
when I am ready to.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
September 20th, 2013
The pedestal has crumbled
I have fallen from great height
Not the perfect kind of friend
I can't seem to get it right
My words have limitations
My actions are misconstrued
Can't give enough assurance
I guess I'm a messed up dude
So now I'm left to wonder
Is there something wrong with me
A friendship without conflict
Is it just a fantasy
Now I sit here and ponder
How did it all go so wrong
Perhaps it was an illusion
All I wanted was to belong
Each, chooses their direction
One stays and the other goes
Hurt by misunderstandings
As both pain and sadness grows
A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun
Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion
The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me
And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul
And then that familiar salty smell
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things
Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts
And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher
Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror
There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same
What do you do all day, I wonder
When you're not teaching me at school
You have no ring on your left finger
And you always cling to that rule(r)
You speak as if we are listening
I admit you seem nice enough
Do you enjoy your current life
Or is it lonely, boring, tough?
Although for science you have such a passion
You look lonely, at least to me
I'm sure you must have a family
But do you have family you often see?
You talk and talk and talk
Do you think that I understand?
(My eyes are getting tired
But still I move my hand)
What do you do at home, I wonder
Do you live all alone?
No wonder you spend so much time here
You have an empty home
I am forever blue,
Just like the sky,
All the rain that falls on you,
Is how I feel when I cry.
I am deep blue like the sea,
Barely breathing beneath the waves,
How lonely can one be?,
There's nothing left here to save.
This feeling is not once in a blue moon,
It lasts all day and night,
It's as deep as a blue lagoon,
With no end in sight.
The frosty air is so cold,
On this blue December night,
Here is what my future holds,
And I know it isn't right.
My whole life has been so blue,
With so many turns like a river,
The water is so cold now, too,
It makes me really shiver.
My future is so blue,
And this is my only end,
I want to tell you, I love you,
Because you're my only friend.
A soul cries yet nobody hears him
They say he has neither a head nor limbs
But he has a soul and a spirit
Undesirable is the soul to be taken from the womb
A soul cries yet nobody hears him
His voice is so mild that no one can hear him
He’s damned for a crime he didn’t commit
No supplication and inspiration to share
A soul still cries yet nobody hears him
He has neither words nor songs to hymn
He’s languishing from a lashing whip
A victim to hatred, dubiety and immorality
A soul cries yet nobody seems to care
He pleas for his precious life to be spared
Yet with a mild voice no one will give an ear
With despair he cries and screams into the night
A soul cries yet this girl has turned a deaf ear
A voice tells her “eliminate him from here”
But a master fate will sometimes have it to be
The Dame escorted him six feet underground
The Poet Preacher © 2014
Shrouds of mist did cloak the day.
Whispering winds with list did play.
Upon the graves of human minds
shrouds of mist were left behind.....
Well-wrought webs of darkness dim
vibrant thoughts held within.
The minds of humans do decay
as shrouds of mist on sorrow play.
Shrouds of mist did cloak the day
as waves of senses swept away
and all of those who dare rebel
were swiftly grasped and swirled to hell.
*Written at 16
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Your going has left a hole in my heart that time,
The Great Healer, cannot repair.
Your going has left a hole in my existence
That forever and beyond will not heal,
A hole ever expanding from its own nothingness,
A hole through which all the goodness,
All the kindness of you is slipping through.
You were my sounding board.
Trite ideas offered, came back
Enhanced, brilliant and sparkling.
Borrowing intelligence from you, I grew wiser.
Doors opened before me as I strove to be worthy
Of you, my beloved son.
I go on now as you would have me do,
Searching in Nature for the joy
You found in its wonders.
Hearing bird songs with your ears,
Relating to others with your empathetic instincts.
Striving, ever striving to be the person
And mother that you believed me to be
And never letting your memory grow dim
For those you loved and for whom you sacrificed.
You came into this world with a wisdom
That did not come from me.
I thank God each day for His lending you to me
For the time that I had you near
And I cling to His promise
That I will see you again.
I could not tell from whence you came,
Born with a wisdom that did not come from me,
And I do not know where you have gone,
Part of myself, the better part--into Eternity.
Originally entered as verse
A Letter to my Son
Your going has left a hole in my heart
That Time, that great healer cannot repair.
Your going left space in my existence
That forever and more will still be there.
Ever expanding from it nothingness
A hole from which your goodness has slipped through.
The kindnesses you wore as a halo
Have disappeared as well since I lost you.
I used you as a sounding boad to measure
The wisdom and the beauty of the world.
Your ideas were so clear and brilliant,
Through you my own best aptitudes unfurled.
I'm trying to live up to your standards.
I want to be more worthy of you, Son.
You told me once I was the perfect mother,
And with you life was such a lot of fun.
I thank God every day for loan of you.
The time we had was more than worth the pain.
And now I'm clinging tight to his promise
That some day I will see you once again.
I do not know from whence you came,
Blessed with wisdom that did not come from me.
Each day I pray I know where you have gone;
Taking my heart into Eternity.
looking deep into her face
for minutes at a time
one finger in her hair
more pleasent than the chime
I've long dreamed of her touch
dreams to caress her mind
holding her close to heart
and we'll together bind
so close she is to me
I reach and touch her lip
gently with my finger
though lusting for her hips
and either I should kiss
as either would be bliss
as my hands draw on her
and we end so breathless
I see her hand in mine
I'd know it without sight
warming and soft to feel
I'd hold it all my nights
I wished to delve her mind
I wished to know that girl
let her sorrow be gone
unto me I shall feel
never distort the air
nor show signs of concern
if I hold her to me
little to be discerned
but that's not who I am
to see through rosey shades
be draped in silken cloth
that's not how I was made
I see what could calm me
her sinuous body
lovely before all eyes
teasing me wantonly
see the unloved lover
so wretched to behold
I'll keep my eyes above
yet my heart remains cold
An orange little ball,
Tattered and torn to bits,
No longer does it fly straight,
Its course lost, its path in fits,
An orange little ball,
Sad within its cracks and in its creases,
Faded bumps, its lost its grip,
It now falls to pieces,
Orange little ball,
Come to death smiling,
Never live just to die,
Happiness lives in and amidst the crying,
Orange little ball,
Wipe the tears away,
There is peace to be found,
In and amongst the fray.
I was born unto this world
A little boy called James
I was just like all the rest
Who in the playground played normal games
I knew my life was in trouble
By the time I reached the age of five
My mother had so many friends
I wondered why I was alive
The kids all used to laugh at me
In my short trousers and bloodied knees
If only they had known
What was going on, in the inside of me
Would they ever know
Why a mother would put you down
And pretend that your not there
As another arrives from out of town
Have they ever wondered
To go to school with clothes unwashed
Sleep on a concrete floor
While your Mother's comfortably sloshed
Do they ever stop and wonder
What happens around them day by day
They can't, because they are young like me
When all they want to do is play
My teens are around the corner
To secondary school I go
I survive and I get wiser
As I intend my life to flow
As we travel down life's highways
When we are born they are seldom written
You know the roads you want to take
For inside you, your internally smitten
If I had a bottle of pills
I’d dump them out inside my mouth
Take the last few swigs of vodka
And swallow all of them down
If I had a big sharp knife
I’d drag the cold steel across my skin
If I thought for a moment it might
Bring this feeling to an end
I’d stare down the barrel
If I had a gun
Find the trigger with my finger
Pull it and be done
If I had a car
I’d park inside the garage
Leave the motor running
Till the poison filled my lungs
If I had a rope
I’d make myself a noose
Dangle there in my own doorway
Till somebody cut me loose
If I had someone to love
I'd probably treat them bad
Since that's all that I've known
In relationships of the past
If I had a heart in my chest
I'd be able to forgive and forget
But there is nothing left
Of that beating mass of flesh
So I'll just continue
Sitting all alone and in the dark
A typical evening in with the cat
Doesn't seem that bad after all.
My name is Peter the Pelican
I'm nothing special at all
I fly around as I'm supposed to
But this day I was close to a fall
Every day when I take to the skies
They are blue and sometimes grey
But this day I never imagined
That my bluey seas would decay
Oozing from metal giants
Now appearing after millions of years
Mans honey as they seem to be happy
Every find I hear all their cheers
One day their tears turned to shouts
For much of it was getting away
My blue was turning to a distasteful mix
In the place where I always played
One day without a care in the world
As I dived for a meal one morn
On surfacing I struggled to respond
Splashing I became so worn
My feathers were not responding
I'm drifting close to the shore
Amid a sea of thickening black
I sense the closing of my pores
What little strength I have left
As I lie in decaying kelp
I flap my wings and hope in my heart
Someone hears a cry for help
Does everybody feel the same as I do?
Lost? Adrift? Disconnected? Confused?
Does anyone know how to ease the hurt of truth
For the accuser, as well as the accused?
I've heard there's bliss
Found somewhere in ignorance
For those who have been stripped
Of their already fleeting innocence
So I continue to move through this life
Practiced smile, that doesn't quite reach my eyes
Which instead reflect the emptiness
That fills me up inside
It hurts to feel so alone and uncertain
Consumed by doubt and fear
Eventually life becomes a burden
Damaged beyond all repair
The temptation to numb all sensation
It more powerful than one might believe
I'll sacrifice the pleasure, to relieve the devastation
As passion gives way to apathy
Say whatever you want
About those who dwell on the past
Go ahead and judge me from your moral soapbox
While you cower behind your mask
The opinions of most matter very little to me
It won't be taken to heart as you intend it to be
First you'd have to practice the words you preach
If you ever do then I promise I'll start listening
He walked down to the sea, lonely and bored
then dips his hand in the warm ocean brine.
Forty years she was the one he adored,
so he kneels to pray for her, one more time.
He spells out her name in the smooth beach sand
then he watches a wave wash it away.
Whispers "Goodbye" just as he starts to stand
he wishes there was more that he could say.
A gentle rumble as breaks a small wave
he can smell her perfume as on the breeze.
He has not the strength to visit her grave
self-pity and pain is all that he sees.
Watches seagulls as they swarm a shrimp boat
as it makes a turn back toward the bay.
Hollow and empty he feels without hope
and wishes a wave would wash it away.
You think how much you hate your house
you despise the ancient floors
You abhor the broken cupboards
Will you always be this poor?
You gaze up at your bedroom roof
You see that it is leaking
You dream of owning fancy things
That selfish ones are seeking
You glance around the dingy room
and think it dark and dreary
How sad, how lonesome, that it seems
As if growing old and weary
Your bed, it lies a little crooked
and your carpets growing old
Summertime is way too hot
And winter gets too cold
Its raining now, its really pouring
Its leaking through your window
The sill is filling up with water
And it soon will overflow
You lie in your crooked bed
As you write this pain all down
The walls are just so melancholy
A sad and dingy brown
Your selfish thoughts lead to another
As he wanders lonely streets
Rain is pouring down on him
It's coming down in sheets
He's coughing and he's crying
And he is dreaming of a place
Where he can rest his weary soul
From troubles he must face
It's not riches that he's praying for
I do not have a doubt
This man is wishing desperately
To have what you complain about
Growing up in California on the Tuolume river was some sad business. There are homeless
people all over the place. It breaks your heart. I always wonder what their story is and what
caused them to be there. The little things in life matter and sometimes we forget that. Some
mens' trash is another mans' treasure.
Is your soul blood red
A dowry of bitter wine
Staining the divine
Is eternity a prison
The rusty knife of time
Carving your senses
Caging your mind
Is flesh a pardon
A tactile bribe
Begging the question
What is alive
Is there a reason
In this chalice of mine
To sip my faith
And fear no demise
Is there a forever
In your crying eye
A word to grasp
When your child has died
Mom will you remember,
All the thing’s we’ve done?
I know I must travel on,
To Heaven where I’m from.
I know I lived a short life,
But it was worth the breath.
I was more than a memory,
But memories are all that’s left.
I’ll always be your angel,
For this God let me know.
I’m with our Redeemer,
Where the little angels go.
I get the silent phone calls.
I know she's on the line.
Why don't you be a man for once
and choose her home or mine?
You say I must be crazy
because I do accuse...
You must have forgotten
how much I have to lose.
I've given you the better part
of my unhappy life.
Why can't you just be satisfied
with me being your wife?
Have I made you be unfaithful?
Do I not fulfill your needs?
Or is it just your selfishness
that makes you do such dirty deeds?
I'll get the strength to leave you,
and believe me...when I do,
You'll Pay for all the pain you've caused
when she does the same to you!
A tear in an hourglass
so slowly it falls
a sorrow for every dream
that lay shattered against the wall.
So fragile is such a thing
that withers in part
what sadness she brings
in broken heart
Doth do we cringe
bent on broken knee
wounded in love
wounded by thee
Dulled is the sword
that had swung with such force
splintered is the shield
but the heart injured worse
All heroes are slain
killed in passionate war
every heart breaks
to love nevermore
Frost bit lovers
standing in the snow
Trying not to trust
what the other seems to know
Parting in the cold
seems a fitting thing to me,
Opened up their aching hearts
and let their love fly free.
Once held with love, by hands so small-
You’d hardly know that they were mine;
Her hair, a matted yellow mess
That sticks strait up, from hands and time,
The dress, Aunt Rose knit with gnarled hands,
Still ties up proper in the back,
It hides her scars; so much undone
While keeping dignity in tact,
One of her fingers’ is too short
When I was small, I bit it off;
Her neck’s been stretched from need and love
Which now I hide with velvet cloth,
Her eyes, the same sky blue as hers-
A mother ripped from life and earth-
Who passed away, leaving her child
One blue-eyed doll and no self worth…
Many a year flew by in time-
An adult with kids of my own-
When our house burned, consuming all,
From photos to refuge of home,
There came from ashes, hope reborn-
A beauty with eyes of sky blue,
Covered in suet, fire-scarred but safe,
The only thing that made it through!
A miracle or mothers hand,
That saved her from the fire's embrace?
To place her safe with honor, down
Atop the snow to cool her face,
This doll may look a ragged mess
To those whose tears she hasn't dried,
But when I look in those blue eyes
I see a child’s love, survived…
My Thumbelina, dread locked doll
No other friend could e’er replace
Her love; I love her battle scars,
Where memory lives upon her face…
2nd place winner in Karen Neary's TRASH or TREASURE contest , 5/2008
Great Grandpa Zerbst, I wish was here
I'd like him still around
He had a herd of Hereford cows
His farmin' sense was sound
He passed away when I was young
I'd only seen him twice
But even though his life was rough
I'm sure that he was nice
At first, he had some horse-drawn rigs
To grow his crop of wheat
A tractor then, in place of them
That had a metal seat
He had a herd of ninety cows
A huge Wyomin' spread
But now a herd of oil-rigs
Are drillin' in their stead
A lot of things Great Grandpa knew
From distant Germany
But now these things I wish I knew
Are buried 'neath a tree
A smile that warms her heart.
With bright, shining Angel eyes.
Soon his whole world would fall apart.
When he sadly watched as his Mother dies.
No one to listen or believe what he saw.
For years the truth lie in wait.
Each passing day, the pain made him raw.
And for his step-dad rose a new level of hate.
A troubled youth is what he'd come to be.
Violence, drugs and alcohol to deal with the pain.
When the truth came out it didn't set him free.
Watching for Santa as his Mother was slain.
After years, Justice was served for his Mother's death.
But her kids would have no justice at all.
They would never hold her again so they remained bereft.
She'll never be there for them to hug, kiss or call.
She loved her kids, especially her eldest son.
She was taken too soon by a drunk, selfish bully.
He didn't care who he hurt or what he did to anyone.
Its not something her children could understand fully.
Her son now sits in his own personal Hell.
Taken away from society to pay for his unrelated crimes.
So now he stays in that six by six prison cell.
Hoping that he'll heal in a matter of time.
I'm here for him and I remain his friend.
I wait for that shine to return to his now haunted eyes.
For that smile to brighten from his sad, dull grin.
I'm someone who can love him and quiet his cries.
The whispers of indifference
dispel the glory of the hour
when tender moments meant so much
and roses blossomed on the bower.
we frolicked as the days grew long,
rejoicing in the innocence,
the youthful, gay exuberance,
when love was new and hearts were strong.
Then the shiver of the leaves,
the bitter cold, as one bereaves
the passing of omnipotence,
imprisoned now by circumstance.
She lay with gloom upon the bed
as outside blinked a garish red
which found its way into her room.
Upon the bed she lay with gloom.
She lay with grief; she lay with rue,
with shabby walls a gray milieu
and circumstance the unmoved thief.
She lay with rue; she lay with grief.
As neon flashed, she lay and thought
of coming west, how hard she'd fought,
and how her dreams had all been dashed.
She lay and thought as neon flashed.
She lay with shame; a thrust of fate
had left her with a wretched weight
and stole her hungering for fame.
A thrust of fate. . . she lay with shame.
Behind closed doors she'll take each john.
She lay with one, and so hereon
she's joined the order of the whores.
She'll take each john behind closed doors.
For the Contest of Black Eyed Susan