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Prose Poetry Depression Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Depression

These Prose Poetry Depression poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Depression. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Depression poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |


So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.

As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
my skin,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.

This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.

Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left. 
So, now, I had plans!

But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.

A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.

She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.

Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Thank God!
Cause I never did like clowns.

After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.

She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.

So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout. 

There she is.

Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.

Now it’s my turn.

With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.

She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.

Go fig.

As if she read my mind,
she asks,
“Are you feeling warm now?”

“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.

But, “Now I am”, is uttered.

As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.

As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.

These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.

I locked myself out of my heart.

I turned around to go back inside.

Only to discover, 
she didn’t have the key.

© Drake J. Eszes

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A SLave's Cry

Stranded in this place
I cannot recognize
Abandoned and lonely
No one hears my cries
AS i walk through this wasteland
Of wilderness and desolation
I am consumed with anguish
I walk this road with hesitation
On every turn that i come upon
The is more pain than at the last turn
Agony and torment spews from my pores
With every step i take more pain i earn
Until i am enveloped with grief
Buried alive on my feet
Dirt in my eyes,nose,mouth,and lungs
I throw up my flag of defeat
Each painful blow leaves behind a deep gash
That is constantly reopened never able to heal
Infection has now set into my heart
Slashes and scars on my body reveals the detail
Of the despair embedded deep in my soul
That tells a tale of a soul so lost
A soul wandering through this wilderness
A tale of what being born black cost

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I sit here twitching, shaking, in a panic
I don’t want to do this again, I hate feeling frantic
Don’t let this happen, don’t let me slip away
Into the darkest depths of my mind, nothing to say

At first these experiences seem inviting
But here there’s no such thing as deciding
The light is so bright and luminous at first
Until its’ quickly dimmed and the pain it causes hurts

The darkness creeps in like a predator
With the dim light as it’s’ competitor
Who’s going to win this time, this fight?
Who’s going to give the hardest bite?

Stuck between pure happiness and sadness
There is no explanation to this uncomfortable madness
Waiting, waiting; for this too shall pass
While the emotions in my head encompass

My heart surrounding the insufficiencies of my head
The feelings so heavy as if my heart is fashioned out of lead
Like I’ve got shackles on my hands and around my feet
In this state of mind everything seems obsolete 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My blessing, your curse

Where else do you want to mock me? That my Sister is a Whore? And she owns miserable men under her Lure? Or is it that I have intense body Odour? Maybe you will taunt the clothes I once wore which you already tore. So, what else is it? That I snore? Or that a drunkard is my Family's Core? Is there anything more? Or something laughable you really saw? Perhaps, you just realize I'm poor? Please anymore flaw? If you're bitter, it isn't my fault don't use me as the Salt on your wounds. I know, I stimulate the stretching of your Catapult and my smile makes you want to join a Cult Even with the Insult, never forget that I'm mere Human who can halt; despite not giving a damn just to make you understand that I'm simply a friend.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pink Vulnerability

I continue to feel
the searing pain. 
ever constant.
so keen.
Not the kind
    that heals fast,
      open wound that closes.
But, the kind that stays vulnerably
       with the passing years.
Three decades 
        and still counting.

Woe to this pain!
With laden anguish, 
The heart's bemoaning.
Thinking it was born
     without a name.
Only to find then
     at a much later time;
giving in.
Oblivious now.
    that my bosom groans,

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear

Details | Prose Poetry | |

This I know

The question so easy
So difficult to answer
I know why

It leaves me broken all over again
I know the answer, I know, no, no, no . . .
I don’t want this

This pain that’s not all mine . . . hardly mine
It rips and tears and cuts
My heart to pieces 
It bleeds and drains my soul away
I wish I never had one

I know why
Why did I have to teach myself the answer?

I know why
I wish I was blind, deaf, numb and uncaring
I wish you never made me

Why did you put me here?!
What did we do to you?
I wish I knew what to say!

Every time life turns good and gets better
You smash it all to bits and pieces
You rip and tear and shred me apart
Again and again and again!!

I know why
God help me I know why
It leaves me beaten, battered, discarded and defeated
Alone . . .
Always alone in the end
I don’t want to know why anymore
Take it away
You can do it if you try

I cannot stop myself from know why
And these words sound hollow empty like me
Why not me and not other
It was I who stole and ripped asunder
A world, a life, ahhhhh I curse you!!!!!
Not them, not him, not her . . 
Just me

Can’t you . . .
Just go away and leave us be
Why can’t I cry for anyone or anything

Would someone please tell me
What good is a heart and soul anyway?
You break and take them both away all the time
You bastard!!

Ask me why I don’t believe in you!
Ask me again why I believe I live in hell!

Why . . ?
Just tell me why . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

And Then I Pray

You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you 
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I 
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I 
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake 
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing 
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my 
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and 
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one 
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I 
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed 
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses 
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I 
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you, 
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Harvest Of The Seed

  Each field is barren white with snow, 
around me blind, they know.
I see.
Darkness brings the haze of dawn, 
how many must it show.

While many miles of web it's barb, 
my flesh, 
it tastes and grows.

Bringing home the wheat, 
ground white, 
and powdered souls, 
spread open far and wide.

Touching only youth, 
not men, 
Each gem from stone, 
pours out and lost our seed it keeps.
No more.


Is It Poetry 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To weather the storm

Storms above me, storms below, Storms of violence, Storms of sadness, Storms of anger Storms of people laughing, mocking my existence Sorrow, and the joy of the few lights of hope and friendship echoes Through the storms The storms surround me night and day No land sight Poseidon’s rage is all I see No mercy found, twix’t night and day But for the brief repast The gift night brings To weather the storms I travel unseen, unheard Past those who give the storm its powers To the places in my dreams Where night and day are side by side And Wolves gather below the moons Midday and night, to sing Their songs of peace Of legends from long ago Of loyalty to their pack And the fight to survive. To weather the storms I look to the wolves As a cub, to the mother The strong live to be the hunters Whilst the weak become the prey The storm takes all Partial to none it hunts One by one, boat by boat, all fall to the storm Human, Animal, Angel, Demon, the storm resides in us all waiting to take hold to drag us to its depths when hope is gone darkness rules until the Light is found hope is gone

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Controlling Men: Physically, Mentally, and Verbally Abusive Men

All men (the loser boyfriends/husbands) think that it's their right to be physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward their female companions (girlfriends/wives), well they're wrong. Most guys are always beating their girlfriends/wives up every single day just because they didn't make their men dinner, do chores around the house, or whatever. It seems that these womanizing losers are way better than their women. Actually, they're not; they're idiots. Controlling these women and being physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward them don't make these Neanderthals men; they're like childish cowards. All guys think that they're the only breadwinners in their families and the women aren't. But guess what--they're not; some of them don't have jobs. And does anyone knows what gets on my nerves? Men always cheating on their girlfriends/wives with other women, getting them pregnant, and not taking care of the children they already have. And those controlling, abusive men, they're always telling their female spouses/lovers what to do, what to eat, where to look, and who to talk to. I mean, who are these womanizing losers to judge other men and to boss these women around? I mean, who does that? Everybody doesn't even know why they'd bother spending the rest of their lives with those abusive idiots. This whole saying by these controlling abusive men have been getting on everybody's nerves and my nerves, as well: "You're-not-to-speak-unless-spoken-to," this "You're-not-to-talk-to-your-family" ordeal, this whole "You're-not-to-have-guy-friends," and this whole "You need me! You're nothing without me! You have no money! You have no friends! Everything's in my name: the house, the cars, clothes, everything I own! You're useless! You're worthless! I own you for life! And you will respect me!" Where I come from, the rest of us nicer guys, we treat our women with the respect they rightfully deserve. The last time I checked, the mothers have raised their sons to treat women and other people with respect, but they now know where they've gone wrong with those womanizing clowns. My suggestion for the women is for them to leave their abusive husbands/boyfriends before it's too late because if they don't, they'll end up in the hospital or the morgue. To be honest, these women, they never should've met, let alone dated or married those abusive men to begin with. And if these abusive men think that they can control those women forever, they've got another coming.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I want you to know

I know a girl more broken than the aftermath of a bull in a china shop. She knows that her pain wont stop, so instead of trying to fix that, she only ever tries to make others happy. She puts everyone above herself and if life was a shelf shed be the ground. The most common sound escaping her lips is sorry. She cries herself to sleep every night, she has cuts on her arms as if too tally up all the hate she receives daily and if she could pay the bills in blood she would be able to afford a living. Lately all she's been doing is forgiving. 

	I want you to know that it's always darkest before the dawn, so if you have to wait another hour for the sun to rise, I will sit beside you with a watch and a red bull the size that two people need to keep them up just long enough to fall asleep together. If the weather is on our side or not, I will stay just to make sure you know you stay up long enough for that sun to rise. It's not a surprise when it does, and if it means you've gone a day without painting in blood, I will do what it takes to keep you from it another day. I suppose what I mean to say is;  

	Put it down. Just pretend its not there; let it disappear into thin air without a hair of a trace, because all it ever does is hurt you. those cuts mark the scars of your pain that will never fade. Cut into your skin, you don't remember the beginning, but you can find the end. Send a message to all the people that made you start, you're a work of art that just has a splatter; it doesn't matter, you can paint over it. Just sit down and look around you. You've built so many walls. You're trapped in a labyrinth made to keep people out but in turn you've locked yourself in. You can't climb the walls, all you hear is the echoed calls of your pain. 

	If you search for a while, maybe you'll find another face trapped in their own maze and you'll both smile; because it's comforting to know that you're not alone. Maybe that person you meet can give you a boost over your wall so you land feet first in grass. You don't need to ask, they're still there; trapped in the maze. Its sad how the price of happiness is almost always someone else's pain.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Losing A Friend

As I am awakened by the dazzling rays of the star we call the sun,
 I am appalled by that peculiar notion,
 because as I peek out my blinds the day is so dull,
 thunder rolling ever so treacherous,
howling like the night time winds, 
the trees are usually green but now all I see is the origin,
pain in my cranium I begin to feel it spin,
 as I try to cry out for help my jugular tightens up,
 I can hardly get any wind,
 as I lay there on the floor struggling to remember last night's events,
 I begin to have flashbacks, then I get a sip, two sip, three sips, or four,
 I see abandoned whiskey bottles and joint papers crumbled on the floor,
 before you begin to judge, yes I know its a sin,
 but this is the only way I know to cope,
 after Losing My Best Friend....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The jungle of doom

The jungle of doom
 Lies mysteries beyond the grave 
You hear the calling of desperate pleas
 thou the wind blows pain of hope
 you know there is No escape
 All else is lost in the mist
 He stalks you with cunning warp
 You feel his wrath afflict you
 As the violent trees attack
 You know nothing but fear
 rapid forces of evil violate you
 The grass smothers you with shame
 you can see there is No comfort
 Nothing but the cadence of darkness
 The future is gone
 Nevertheless the clouds of fury taking over

Details | Prose Poetry | |

No More...

Is there anyone out there?
Can anyone hear me?
You there. Yes I am speaking to you.
Please can you help me?
Where are you going?
No. No. wait.
Please dont leave me alone.
I need your help.
Why is this keep happening?
Why does it hurt so bad?
What did i do to deserve this?
Im trying. Believe me Im trying.
Im trying as hard as i can,
But i just cant do it.
Everywhere i turn
seems like an opportunity
but when i turn to that opportunity
it seems to jump everywhere
I cant no more. 
I just simply cant do it.
Doctor. Nurse. Best friend. Mentor
So much potential but will it come true
Or will they just disappear into the blue
I just cant no more
So many times i hear im sorry
i have never seen this occur
then i get a shrug of the shoulders
They dont care really
As they move on with their lives
to my pillow is where i run 
To shed my tears
thinking about all of my fears
Thinking of all my faults
No where to run, nowhere to hide
All the pain is just building inside
it hurts so much but i must smile
because i must fulfill my duty
My duty to serve all out there
but what happens when i cant
will the world end?
will the earth shatter?                                                                                               
no they will move on and find another
one to be strong as a father and
as caring as a mother
but what about me? huh.
Is there no one, anyone
please hear my plea for help
please hear my plea for guidance
the pain. the hurt. the disappointment
is just too much to bear.
please what more can i do
please what more can i say
i dont want your money
I dont need your pity 
A shoulder to lean on
is all im asking for
A caring heart is all i seek
do you see these tears flowing from my eyes
I hope you do because this might
be the last time you do
For after tonight,
there will be no more me...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


written 17th Sept 2013

When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
 don't let me curse another, leave me loveless

For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
 my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start

Please find help to set your heart free
 trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily 

Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
 but some how, you managed the impossible

Unlovable for my entire life
 yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife

Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
 at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care

Please don't enter my life's pain and despair  
 you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love

I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
 soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


When mothers are delightful to deliver a male child 
And fathers feel huge pressure to see a new born female child  
The Almighty is hopeless !

When people are busy for more money 
And children are growing to destroy their childhood 
The Almighty is hopeless !

When political leaders leave to the king of policies  
And democratic people are silent for personal interests 
The Almighty is hopeless !

When Temples , mosques , churches are captured by communal forces 
And religious people forget to their original religion which is humanity 
The Almighty is hopeless !

When truth is defeated by untruth 
The Almighty is silent and The Sun rises in the east .
I am hopeless ! 


Details | Prose Poetry | |


I have a secret place to go whenever I feel the need.  It is a place that is visceral,
dark, and so unforgiving that the joy of being there sometimes makes me want  to stay
longer than a moment.  There, I am like a beast uncaged, running free, and devouring all
that I see.  When the beast runs, there is no stopping it.  There is no leash or muzzle to
keep it at bay.  There is no place that it  cannot go, and its desire for retribution is
like an insatiable hunger in its belly.  The beast there is ever hungry.  "Where is this
place?" you may wonder.  I always try to remember to take the key with me.  For it is the
barren, lonely, and impassable door you cannot is the Id within me.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Touch The Heart

                                                       To Touch The Heart

                                           I to feel and gain respect from love,
                                           But knowing that your lover is much fond of,
                                           That warmth and caring that love gives,
                                           From feelings shared and now love lives.
                                           But that of life's little minutes one can see,
                                           A picture of perfection and reality.
                                           Surrounded with love's handy touch,
                                           And that glitter from feelings felt so much.

                                           But with much beauty from loves shame,
                                           One noticing that hate has lost this game.
                                           And now tell me of how to feel from pain,
                                           When my heart touches your name..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What's the point?

What’s the point 
in living
When death awaits
What’s the point 
in breathing
When you can not 
feel the 
swelling of your 
What’s the point 
in love
When you heart 
only aches
What’s the point 
of being in a 
state of 
When you are not 
really alive
What’s the point 
in doing your 
When it is 
What’s the point 
in making all 
When you are sad
What’s the point 
in smiling 
When your heart 
And that colgate 
never touches 
your eyes
What’s the point
in anything?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wisdom Of Error

The pretty girl on the bus makes me sad. She is beautiful in toque and scarf but I'm 
not ready for winter. Her hair is drawn back in woollen grip; the hat is black though 
she wears it in bright pink. The red of her scarf lights the dapper down jacket of 
winter. I wish to sing to her and whisper my wisdom of error. She grins as I 
purposefully walk by again, she knows and I adore that because she is sheepish 
and bashful yet courageous in hesitation. The bus is empty but I choose her 
immediate right and she sighs in thanks. I ask her name to which she announces 
Sarah, I am overjoyed by the simple beauty but my 'membrance of all life’s glory in a 
single package anoints my lust for life and love lost. She shies sensing my usage of 
her in character and I back peddle seeking soon required response to the foreseen.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

One and another

Entering a world, a cold cruel place for some of the unlucky ones
Race, gender, sexual orientation, accomplishments, assets, pant size, you name it
What you are is a result of where you stand in these things.  If you have all the right requirements
You just may be accepted.  But those not possessing the right requirements
Those born into a destiny they may never hold the strength to fulfill
The winding vine of pure evil creeps deliberately, hate is planted in the depths of the untrained mind
Judgment, loathing, murderous, ignorant, fearful and malicious thoughts toward some
Those that are floating through this gray, lonely place.  It is no place for you that much has been made known
Fighting off the thoughts of hate, judgment, self-loathing; just to make it through another day
How can one go on, how can one continue when hate is all that is received
For destiny has been previously decided for some.
However, as you go on through your day
If there is one thing here that you take with you
Realize the pain of ONE 
Is NO different 
Than the pain
No matter your race, size, gender or skin color.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Prose

A happy little girl. Bright colors and sunshine. She grows older and enters middle 
school. She is teased constantly. Not the right hair. Not the right clothes. It hurts, 
oh God it hurts. She forgoes colors. Black and gray are good enough. She gets older 
and older still. High school; a new place, new adventure. Dare she 
friends? Foolish, foolish girl. New friends? New pain. Dyed hair...what 
color? Black. Black hair, black heart. Poetry, music, the only escape. 
Dark, Pain, Despair...Destroyed. Heart bleeding and inside she's screaming. but no 
one sees. No one hears. alone. Who would understand? No one. Dying 
inside. Drowning in pain bottled up. Invisible. Misunderstood. Who is she? Who is 
she!?! Screaming, bleeding, dying. What a waste. That's what she is, a waste of 
space, a waste of breath. Better off without her. The world's better off. Despised, 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stolen Hearts

Cold, callus, crying, shivering,
and covered in sweat.
Wondering what has happened.
Not yet understanding this fate I’ve met.

What of a guy that stumbled around,
just trying his hardest to show he’d been found,
after all he had just been purchased
from the human pound.

That promise to you.
Man I broke it.
I told you Id stop,
and for a time I did,
but that stuff two blocks away,
my will power just wasn't work-n.
My wrist watch again broken.
Always from the look on my face,
you could tell Id been smoke-n.

You tried.
You tried so hard,
but the mind wasn’t mine.
only a shell of what used to be,
all of me you were trying to find,
and I didn’t get this till my alone time.

I was pushing.
You were pulling.
Then it all pushed you away.
It was all down hill from here,
so naturally you couldn’t stay.

I sit here so sad
for the way you must of felt.
Let alone how you dealt.
Ill never understand how I could do this to you.
You're so prefect,
even your aura dances in ambient light.
You’re the best friend I could of had,
and that leaves me really mad,
that the rest of the world
may never know what we had.

The thing is I know now,
that you loving me.
This really was Much more,
than I loving you.

~Ha,Turned around this insecurity was always mine.~

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Arabic poem by: Adel Said*
Translated into English by: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

At the end of the line I stand
As should a professional homeless do
Exactly at the end of the line
Before the committee on homelands distribution 
Among those who fall in the overflow
Over the needs and capacity of time, place, 
Population records,
And cemeteries. 

At the end of the line I stand 
Hanging like a teardrop in a funeral 
Collecting what have fallen of my years,
My fables
And my extinct dreams,
In the bundle of my childhood that missed her doll
And my deferred share of my mother’s tenderness.

I have a flavor the midwife failed to sever
With the umbilical cord
In my heart, there is still a nursery rhyme
About a duck swimming in a river
And a songs about a fair maiden’s tear dripped down with  kohl
And my fingers are still trembling
In fear of the lesson and the swish of the teacher’s ruler.

I have in the piggy bank of my life
Volumes about hunger and wars of social classes
Burned by the fascists 
Who also snuffed out the tears of forbidden love.
I have in the piggy bank of my life
Dates I saved of palm tree’s yearning for the land
And some palm pollen dust still traveling in my lungs. 

I have no signs of prophecy on my forehead 
And no halos of saints 
But my homeland that’s sitting there 
Amidst the committee on the homelands distribution
Will recognize me
And I'm in the queue 
I will not compete with the homeless comrades 
For their homelands 
And will not accept that illustrious one on the right 
And not that opulent one on the left
I’ll accept only that one,
That one whose head is a palm tree 
And whose arms are two rivers.
- You , O Mister!
 You who was at the end of the line,
 You haven’t been recognized
 By any of the homelands gathered in the committee,
 The exiles snuffed out your flavor
 And withered your songs;
 Despite the high level of adoration in you
 No homeland on earth
 Understands your language.

 - Even  that one? !

 - Even  that one ..
And out of pity 
We decided to grant you a berth,
A berth that will never come to an end
You will waste on it  
All that’s left in your lifetime’s piggy bank 
Of tears, 
Of dreams loitering outside the fence of life 
And of years flying, like neglected pieces of paper,
Out of the window of history! 

Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam al-Hashimi
*  Adel Said is a poet from Iraq who resides in Norway

Details | Prose Poetry | |

TONIGHT by Anna Lo P

..The clock ticks, the Time pass
  Coffee I sip, as I taste, Alas!
  One more cigarette, almost up,
  What else is with me, me, still up!

  Waiting for the green light
  Beside your name in chat
  This computer, is already hot
  It's been on, since I last woke up!

  I don't know, I don't care,
  If they say, I look like a scare
  Eyes that look like of an owl
  Since I've been up like a fowl!

  To write another piece
  Of my sadness, of my tears
  The songs I always play
  Make my heart feel in dismay!

  Up all day till night
  Because my heart is in fright
  Will he then tell me"it's not alright"
  That is something I need to fight!

  Oh my! please give me a sign
  To be in sorrow, or should I be fine?
  It feels I'm running out of time
  That's how I feel, for all this time!

  The clock ticks, the Time pass
   Another coffee sips, I say Alas!
   Another cigarette I lit, just to be up
   What else is with me? just a memory on recap!..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man Introduction

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

The down and out, invisible man series of poems is about a young man going out into the world and finds he cannot cope. He starts off life on a large slum over spill estate that moved the poor people from London into council housing.
As all the people that were placed their where from different parts of London, gang and turf wars began immediately. This estate was built in the middle of nowhere so the were no jobs, nothing to do and drink became a major problem in the 1970's.
Anyway this very intelligent young man young man thought if he could move away he might have a chance. But his lack of social experience meant he was leaving all his friends, family and loves. He was leaving his history, his past, his roots.
He gets a good job a nice home, new friends, but there is something missing, his real friends. As he grew older he finds he misses his hometown and becomes depressed and he cannot cope. He loses his new friends his job his home and finds himself out on the street with an addiction for strong drink.
He has the clothes he has on and that is all. He is seventy miles from his old hometown and decides to walk back and try to start again. On this walk he becomes dirty, unwashed and ripe. His hair now grey is long and unkempt and he has grown a beard which is also gray.
So he walks and walks until finally thirty years after leaving his hometown he returns. Nobody recognizes him, they think he is a vagrant, which he is. He wanders around familiar places and feels that he has at last come home.
So in his long thick overcoat, long gray dirty hair and unkempt beard, he could be anybody, so he just becomes a lonely old vagrant that people cross the road when they see him. This is a true story.
I hope I can do this series from the eyes of a vagrant and give an insight of what it is like on the other side of society.
Please read these poems with an open mind and feel the way the vagrant feels. He has emotions, needs but most of all he wants to say hello to his old friends and family, but cannot because he is too ashamed.
So he watches daily life, in his old hometown lonely, an outcasts sense of belonging. He is The Invisible Man.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

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                                            s o b e r...
The fuse burns the skin; 'till years disappear in the sear. Those scars allow us to be who we are - - - urging us to bleed truth- - -  so we can speed through the blues----- fueling us with the go, the giddy up to show, with each blow we grow,---and we Leggo our Ego -------just so the doubters we encounter shout louder and louder--- tho' they ain't got a clue as to who... or what we're about, or the journey of pain ballooning our veins with insane clout-------- and we wish upon a trouble free time to be near, yet it's far...- - - like the stars in the sky----...---sobering the view...while we drink the abuse------Still, the lit fuse burns the years till our fears cry.-____so hopefully, we learn from the scars when our tears dry.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Are Doomed People

We are doomed people. Nurses’ aides, housekeepers, LPN and Ward Clerks
Maintenance and kitchen cooks; slave of the modern workplaces
We are the Victims of Hurricane Sandy
Taking life for granted,
 Everything was nice and dandy
  until Sandy furious attack 
 In an instant life live: reverse like a deadly curse
Forcing the Oil prices to rise higher after volatile week
We cried, we pray, we curse under the same breath
 Frequently asked question “Why us father why we

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I stood in the middle of the ocean's palm and travelled along its' finger lines.
These blue waves have stolen the infinity of sky, reflecting my fate signs.
In my heart there is a blank, as I am left alone struggling with a sea unknown.
If you could show me your eyes, I would place your hopes in stars to find height.
Instead, I am burned in fires shaken, in sweaty dreams that end with the first light.
In other words I search for promises, changing places and opening new doors.
Yet, this sea of rain rushes into my expectations, driving me to the same shores.
And I am wondering if life owes us our prayers, our tears, our sentiments of glory.
If not, then we are condemned to expect a fate, a Spring belated to show a fake story.
When nights exceed the dead ends I set, moon is risen laughing at my mortality.
In the cold breeze I face my humanity, fighting in a battle uneven and unfair.
As time passes through my windows, I betray my existence behind curtains flopped.
Eyes of solitude I can't forget visit me between Heaven's and Hell's Gates blocked.
I set fire to my pain and from the ashes I give birth to a fate, in which you are not in.
The greatest dreams I left behind, a compromise I signed and gained the right of sin.
Uncovered distances, chaos in my heart rhyme
For the losses I won't accept as my fear prime.

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What's the point?

What’s the point 
in living
When death awaits
What’s the point 
in breathing
When you can not 
feel the 
swelling of your 
What’s the point 
in love
When you heart 
only aches
What’s the point 
of being in a 
state of 
When you are not 
really alive
What’s the point 
in doing your 
When it is 
What’s the point 
in making all 
When you are sad
What’s the point 
in smiling 
When your heart 
And that colgate 
never touches 
your eyes
What’s the point
in anything?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My One And Only Better Half

Sitting here in the darkness,
To afraid to even speak,
My heart sunk into my chest,
My body felt so weak,
Grabbed by the back of my head,
Thrown down two flights of stairs,
Punch over and over in my stomach,
But still you only see a blank stare,
Nothing but silence,
As I'm dragged acrossed the floor,
The only thing thats going threw my head,
Is what would happen if I try and race to the door,
He grabbed his weight belt,
Hitting me in the back as hard as he could,
I laid there taking the beating,
Just like every other night I would,
But this time it was different,
I was laying in a puddle of blood,
I seen him take off running,
He even slipped in fell in the mud,
I finally got some relief knowing,
that my beating finally ended,
But I didnt know this was going to happen,
This is not what I intended, 
I was rushed to the hospital that night,
Gave birth when I was only fifteen,
7 months old lived for 36 minutes,
His lungs started to crash his breathing was unseen,
The hardest day of my life,
Was holding my child in my arms,
Knowing that he didnt deserve this,
He deserved no harm,
I blamed myself for many years,
Screaming why didn't I fight back?
I guess the thought of not knowing,
It what I really lacked,
I think of him often,
How peaceful  he shall be,
Thats the happiest feeling a mother can have,
To have her son be happy and free.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

O! America Reverse

My opinions are changed, 
My heart lacks fervour, 
For you lunched the war, 
To liberate who are already free,
To enrich who are already rich, 
To make the fierce, more ferocious.

When will the time intrude you,
Make you see the brilliant aspect of the affair,
And humanity will sing the song of peace?
When will you peep into your inner-self 
To see the reflected image of you own?
When will you obey the divine commands
And make out them that God forbids pollution
Smog and fumes of turmoil wrapping His fair Earth?

 Now open your eyes
The shores are red; 
The lands are coated with blood,
The skulls are scattered like stones, 
For the sake of oil or the reserves of gold,
Be aware a single drop of   human blood 
Possesses more worth than all treasures
That the earth contains. 

Now stop killing; enough, enough, 
You neither surrender, nor do deprive others
Of the rights which the divine commands allow,
Go through the lanes with moderate bearing. 

Live like a benefactor among the nations, 
Share with them your victuals,
Stock of knowledge and skills,
And snatch them not of their own.
Return fathers to the orphans,
Husbands to the widows,
Brothers to the waiting damsels, 
And sons to the aged mothers,
If not then compensate them all,
For the broken hearts, shattered dreams.
Hatred against you thrives, 
Magma against you grows,
Let the volcano sleep, 
Beneath the layers deep, 
And only once apply,
The strategy of the weapon of love 
Discarding the old devices of uranium. 

The amount you spent on the arsenal 
Would have been enough to feed the world 
Though ten times bigger; 
If you had ruled the hearts,  
The world might have been a different place
Of love, peace and harmony. 

Through force your aims will never be gained,
So amend the ways and stroll on the route 
That enhances you in respect and esteem;
Review and revise the modes of actions,
 Follow not the path that leads the world
To the chaos, and on the point of no return,
For there will be a dark dungeon of curse,
O! America, for the sake of humanity reverse.  

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I hate waiting.
I don't like going
anywhere either.

Patience is a
virtue that some
one else got;
cause it's all
lost on me.

Smiling is a googly 
face on a cardboard
with raised eyebrows
so it looks like we
might all be smiling.

Foolish fools is a form
to flee.  Something we
don't want to be;  like
a bedbug or a dying elm
tree sign this here we
don't want to stop what
nature has started or was
that something humans 
have done?  Oh it's so
insipid.  Maybe it was 
the sun.  Who's talking
here anyway, I'm still

Details | Prose Poetry | |

DOES HE by Anna Lo P

Does he remember me?
Does he remember even a thing he said to me?
Does he think of me too?
I think yes, I think I dont know.

Does he smile when feeling sad?
Does he laugh when about to cry?
Does he feel happiness when hurt?
I think yes, I think I don't know.

Does he feel empty?
Does he feel alone?
Does he yearn for my love,
I think yes, I think I don't know.

I don't want to think anymore
I'm tired of this, I can bear no more
Tired of being tired again
I say yes, that now I know..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Diamond Toes

When life seems empty
And there’s no place to go
Unlike most artists I became Salvador Dali
 My Life daily tasks as a poet
It’s allow my spirit to go from high to low

 With my blessed hands and my tired feet 
  a hard working peasant woman with diamond toes
  I set the countdown each passing day while I slave away.

Those Infectious bole place in high positions,
 Governor of all the Nurses
Using their authorities to weaken the spirits of the peasant
And the down trodden souls who line your corridors both day and night

 however, this  burden that seem too heavy to bear now....(bibilical
God will lifts away on the wing of prayers.

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What the hell did I do

What the hell did I do..

This question posed aggressively
now in my conscious mind.
I bury my head in my knees,
and sob relentlessly asking why,
and mumbling man you really did it this time.

Party at my place he screams,
and Man you don’t ever stop by.
These images scroll the Rolodex of my subconscious side.
Try this it will make you feel great!
You’ll have no worries for at lest the next eight.
Doesn’t that sound great!

That’s when it hit me,
like a shot straight through the heart.
I parted my metaphoric sea shore,
my arms, my legs, they are the oars.
Swimming through the blue abyss,
always watching close for shore.
Then little by little always needing more,
and more.
The hours and days went by,
oh my god how I was high.

My euphoric mind never pressed for time,
no matter the dime.
Clouds on the horizon a thunderous sky.
It was even getting late,
and the moon began to pull at the tide.
Looking back I see this was going to be a very long ride.

Pushing forward toward the shore,
limb for limb, tired and sore.
Screaming, hurry up and get here,
where out, and have got to have more.
Then the lighting began to show it’s power,
and the wind had the waves in a roar.
The rain stinging torn & chapped skin.
I began to lose consciousness, now at a merciless Drift.
Pulled way out,
fast and swift.
Their would be few that would adore.
As they wonder how long,
before I’d wash back ashore.

What the hell did I do..
This question,
posed aggressively now
in my conscious mind.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beans on Toast

two more days before i get paid
the pantry is almost empty
4 slices of bread and a can of beans
if i'm careful this could be plenty

i have half a pint of milk and 3 bags of tea
and a little bit of sugar
things could be worse
i could have nothing
i'm really a lucky bugger

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Poor's Penchant

For what am I born?
Born to consume myself?
Born to get plucked off my leaves and get torn?

Born to walk on ice and feel the numb
Born to be criticized, cursed and yet stay dumb?

A loaf of bread,
A bed on road often pitted and tread.

An earthy dust laden skinny cloth,
is what I bear, for that further makes me an entity to loath.

For who shall open his heart and speak few words of love and compassion?
For who shall disguise himself to turn meek, for a poor beggar who even can’t 
afford his own cremation?

Oh! Almighty, you owe me life of kings!
To balance thou judgment and demolish those dominant devils
Oh! Almighty you owe me royal raiment’s and ravishing rings
And make those boisterous heads droop down, as if hollow glasses 
bespattered after fallen from hills.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sandy Winds Roar

Sandy ‘winds roars, deadly Sandy roar ashore
As the night darken, the people screams no more! No more!
You Ocean whore!
Along the broad walks Hurricane Sandy barreled towards land. ...
Ripping two beautiful little angels from their mother’s hand

 Cockamamie dwellers, fled from their homes 
The high winds were no match for fowl, beast or man

Sandy winds roars, Sandy roar ashore
 Leaving tons of sand;
 On the main land
 Roof tops, the barbed wire, with sharped edges were defeated
 Mortal men lost again to winds of fate.
Sandy winds’ roars, she whistles; she roars ashore.

The long summer of 2012 became a dream
While our footprints fade in the sand 
  Our hearts ripped apart
  We prayed in the dark. : For calm and peace
Everywhere she went it was darkness
  Our hearts ripped apart
  We prayed in the dark. : For calm and peace
Please, please! Sandy spared us please.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.

Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,

As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.

If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.

An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.

The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.

Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.

Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.

These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,

As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.

These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,

Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Want To Be

To want to be

is the answer

to the questions

of what's the use

and what's the point

of living


I want to be


Do You?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


When night falls it brings rise to my smile and mood, I rush for bed; sleep is the time 
where I am most alive. I smile into your eyes as I kiss your forehead then your nose 
and down visiting your lips for an extended stay before once again smiling into your 
eyes as I pull back. I roll you over, your back now pressed against my chest and I 
continue to firmly hold your body. The closeness ignites the heat, now open hearts 
in open hearth we melt; ingot moulds; we are one. One body, one mind; one smile; 
one love and we at peace sleep. I am in love inside this nightly ritual and dream, 
when morning arrives and your absence is once again discovered, thus triggering 
the nightmares clock punch until once again night falls and brings rise.

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Why So Sad

Why So Sad?

Why do you look lonely, 
Bereft and so, so sad?
Has someone been quite nasty? 
Have you been really bad?

What lies beyond your haunted eyes,
Your melancholy stare?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Do you want to take me there?

Your doleful gaze cements your face,
Your shoulders hanging low.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Or would you prefer that I go?

I stand transfixed, absorbing your pain,
My breath is quick and light.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What causes your terrible plight?

What demons grasp your very soul?
Why do they steal your smile?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
This cruel and evil bile.

Can you see through your vacant gaze?
Do you know that I am here?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
And explain what monsters are near?

What has sucked the life from you?
Who have you become?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What nefarious deed has been done?

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Winding up my wings

My wings are wound up.
Don’t ask me to fly.
I have locked myself inside the cage.
Without leaving, any reason for my rage.
I feel safe inside these bars…
As I am afraid of  outside unknown wars.
In your vision, my smiles and tears may be invisible.
It does not make any difference for me even if it is quite possible.
Neither do I blame my Lord nor any human being,
I blame myself…
For filling my heart with unfulfilled dreams…
And am frustrated for being helpless with inseparable wings!

Roja Meeran.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Squirrel's Tale - When She Painted The Park Sad

i heard her think ‘maybe alone is all i'll ever know’ as she read the words on the page you could have heard a pin drop the benches, the grass, the lamps, all held their breath then it happened she painted the park sad all the colors faded changed into shades of black everything around her mourned her loss the naked trees as one let out a sigh the birds went mum with not even a chirp you'd have to talk to her tears ask them exactly what she felt ask them!, if you wanted details but from behind my favorite rock i could feel the depth of her pain and i feared she'd never stand again freeze to her death sitting there alone. Suddenly she stood. I could read on her face, she would move on. It was as if she decided that the love she had shared was in itself the reward. She would take the high road and just like that the park smiled and resumed its state of bright colors. Sponsor: SKAT A Contest Name: Dark and Deep (old poems only)

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I just want to dream a little more,

before the sun dries up this stream of thought;

before my tongue begins to search for words

faded by the choke of night.

The sky screams in the hands of a harsh turn,

neither of us wants our darkness unveiled.


I wish the light would swallow me up as well.


the broken slumber of day creeps into my bed,

and shakes my tomb.

I watch it stumble through the blinds,

sloshing, lazily polished, and promising.

Like it always does. 

And I try my damnedest to pull my eyes away

from the hope that is stitched to my shadow,

but no matter how hard I writhe in this place,

I cannot escape the artificiality of this world

 that I can’t seem to wake up from. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand
on this land
o' dear life, 
until the end

o' dear thought
of comfort

seed my life
feed me not in strife
bleed me joy from nine to five

lead me a journey of phases
a journey of ages
to face this

germinate in me a corn
of survival 
a history of possibilities
a record of living to afford
a source to live

for this life 
is a choreographer of life
a propeller of existence
an economy of spiritual commodities

a tear drop of opportunities
yet not so many does see its commonalities
an event of anomalies and regularities

lead me a way o' dear life
carry me a sledge on a journey of life 
a terrain of survival and life

a gemstone for many
a pentagon of any
a model of penny

an artwork of joy

a string of life on a journey
a script of many
a stanza of any


from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey', 
february 2012 

>> ntema's unique poetry (nup)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In the Eye of the Storm

As young people, we feel we are in fact immortal,
 like the pits of death will never cut the breathe of our pharynx short,
 until tragedy strikes and reveals to us that death and sorrow have no respectable persons
 regardless of race,gender,nor age, my revelation came in the form of a massive ef-5 tornado,
 as I sat in the hall along side my mother, we could feel such uneasiness and vexation,
 as if we were a two time felon in the courtroom during sentencing, then the mallet drops,
 wind consuming us,debris flying overhead,I heard the house I resided in being ripped to shreds,
 I felt my body rising off of the floor, I just knew I was dead,
 wish I could tell my family bye, I love you deeply within,
 then I begin to cry out Lord please forgive my unspoken sins,
 dirt circulating everywhere, I could not open my eyes,
 then I felt someone tightly clinch me, I guess he heard my cries,
 after the storm it was such a unique calmness, 
like a mother after she conceives, 
suddenly I heard people crying out, trapped under debris, 
I continued to ponder where did the hands come from that saved me...
 it was my mother, she told me she would die for me, because ill always be her baby..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

letters to Mary

I pull my shirt off to check for the bulls eye Today it’s there so I’ll run and hide but to no avail I’m the pawn in your diabolical tale premeditated and calculated guess I missed the cookie crumb trail no clues are friendship was going stale you stabbed me in the back knowing I'm emotionally frail You blind sided me and so likely is the story that it’s just my luck Now I’m always your excuse when your talking about why you can’t drink it up I hope you chock on those lies you poser You’ll never help people your an emotional bulldozer Maybe one day you’ll suffer from real emotional ills Believe when I tell you It Kills Everyday I take a handful of pills even then their is no guarantee There's are days when negativity and overwhelming pressures consume my very being and the crazy thing is the seeing because it’s believing witnessing me in a blank stare I’m conscious, but no one’s there Just - My - Stare Inside I’m busy with my clipper ship I’ve floated upon your hurricane and every little happy moment we ever had has crying stinging pellets of mad

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I looked into the eyes of a dying child 
And asked her if there was anything I could do
Anything that may lessen the pain
Anything that would make her forget
She said, “ Sing for me, Oh! stranger
Sing in that beautiful voice of yours
Sing till I pass away in peace
Sing for me, Oh! Please do.”
I sang in a voice trembling with fear
Laden with sadness and pain
I sang about God, his glory
About God’s ways of which we know nothing
As the song ended, she smiled that little sad smile
And asked in a voice ever so frail
“ If there is a God, then why am I here
Have I lived my life? Answer me this
What are his plans, so grand, that don’t let me live
Is my death part of a greater truth?”
Saying this she closed her little eyes
Squeezed my hand with her tiny hands
And let out her last little breath
And looked radiant even in death. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Left to Weep

He touched her soul
He touched her deep
Now she is left to weep
He was the depth of her

“Tears of Regret”
Tears like a river
Remembering how she quivered
Falling in tumbler
Regrets, reminiscing 
Second guessing
Time passing without noticing
Wasted hours, days and months 
Occupied with this pain

© Roshan Mumtaz

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If for no other reason -- ? (You fill in the blank) - ?

    There seem to be many, but never are there plenty.  In the begining was the word and
that he became life from the same (?) that has no ending.  If there are feeling's you would
like to express at this very moment, what would that word be ?  Would that word be enough
to immentily self-expose you are me.  "If for no other reason", you and only you, must de-
cide when you have reach the thressinghold of being "tired of being sick and tire", and for-
ever and ever when you have reach that plattoe do you seek out the word that truly will give
meaning to that interest of desire.  
"If for no other reason", do we all realize that the world owe's you nothing.  The blight of man
kind itself is that it has obliviated the courtship of "Trust" and looking in your rearview mirror
as you drive from one episode to the next, another question needs some answer's.  Can the
word that became life, would trust be able to lift you (me) from the sidewalk to the "good
season".  O'You, Can you see your Breakthrough.  You know never are there plenty but there
do seem to be many, people that has grown tire beyond just being (?) and now "If for no
other reason", you cann't allow your breakthrough to come to (?) then the season of spring-
summer and or fall, will never return to lift you away from being You.  And blessing goes on
and you will be stuck amoung the abusers forsakening the mystery of why you're so (?)..
    How do you really feel, "feel about life right now". Really, yes in the beginning was the 
word and now I know you have heard, that be became life and you and I are heir's on that
(?) and I myself do not know why you feel the way you do.  Why in Afghanistan is there to
come a day when peace describe the word of today and hope pertains an idea for tomorrow.
How do you (?) today.  Are you mad enough to kill, are you slouthful in all due season inso
enough you steal.
    There seem to be many, there very-well maybe people that shall not keep it real.  Send
our boy's home Mr. President, within the power of your might.  If for no other reason, just
because all the people are beyond their thresshold with no place to go but up, it is what shall
hide our pain - when your breakthrough is known as (?).  "If for no other reason", I feel
today, is my "Season".

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Flame Melds So Slick the Shadows

Brown black centipedes crawl from within the white washed walls  
Their shadows, creeping and quick, are cast througout the halls  
Echoing thoughts bring a crashing sound to my ears, clattering  
Music buried deep evokes what my mind hears, shattering  
Rumpled white sky drifts like a melting glacier, carved flat  
Or floats like a wiffle ball hit by this Summer game's yellow bat  
Like this golden silver streak that now threads the monet-like sky  
Emerging fire I behold with my stupored, half-shut eyes 

The breeze tickles my doughy molded face with the stinging red roses  
After a day journeying inward, my shelled body reposes  
Encased like a cracked but unbroken nut, fading after the sun has ripened  
And this hummus colored sun, now amber rose as it sinks, spreads the horizon  

And the surrounding land, its bumpy rough edges and valleys, is slowly widening  

Details | Prose Poetry | |

-Needs a title. I will probably think of one later on.-

There is a single rose

kept high in the vase of her memories

she eyes thee rose with despair and sorrow

circles around and walks away.

The rose withers and petals fall

she comes back but has the same thought.

Picks up the withering rose, she starts to dance

circles around and around with the rose balanced in her palm.

-she stops-

she starts to cry and she sees streaks of blood fall from her palm

the thorns dig deep

her tears reach her collar

darkness falls, then drags her deep in it's depths.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Look in me

Have you ever watched me cry
Night after night
Behind these doors?
Have you ever noticed
My teary eyes
As we drive back home?
What I need is someone
To lift me up
As I sink in the
Abyss  of hopelessness.
I told you, I am not strong
Just my dreams are stronger
But you keep crushing them
They would never be true,
You say, so little chance
Live with the ordinary 
Cause that’s what life is about
My heart struggles to accept this
But, how can I disobey you?
Have I ever? 
I only disagree.
What I need is not you
You say, find someone new
But how could I? 
Don’t you see the chains
Formed the day, I gave myself
To you?
My goals are not so noble
Just ambitious
Dream to change the world 
In a way you never did
But how can I do so?
You look down
On everyone else who did.
How can I but want to
Yearn your hate and not your admiration?
Your love
For which I left everything
I ever owned.
For a world which was never mine or would be!
Don’t you see, how I am dying
Inside, day after day?
Sleepless nights into endless days
Into desperation
And hopelessness
Killing me, slowly.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Time Heals All Wounds, But It Doesn't Rid The Scars

Faith lost, love failed All because of what's unveiled. And in this pain I have been jailed. It was not you, it was all me And no one else will ever see How these things all came to be But now it's lost, now it's gone I watch the sky for signs of dawn Yet I never played you as my pawn. I hid in dark, I hid in lies I kept it all from dark brown eyes I now await for harsh goodbyes. No one will see, no one will hear The reasons I held these secrets dear Yet visions' still blurred by means of tears I watched you rise, I watched you grow And that's why you did not know The deceit I had yet to show. It was your laugh, it was your smile That kept me quiet all the while Trudging every single mile You own my soul, you own my heart I can not bear for us to part Let me help the healing start I am a human, I am a girl And mistakes come about and whirl Causing rivers of silver pearls You do not believe, you do not trust This healing process is a must The reliance will rise up from the dust It will take long, it will take time And many, many clocks will chime Until our love's back in it's prime I love you now, I love you forever Please let us spend it all together I want to part not now, not ever.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Third Fable

 The Third Fable 
The Third Fable 
Depression Session 
Everyone has bad days. 

CharlaX: The man on the bus: he reads his paper he moves into the light to see 
the words 
THE OTHER MAN:  on the same bus: was hearing his cd player just looking for 
the sun to come up over the hill and give its light he keeps staring out the window 
to see the sunrise 
The many other people: just come and go 
The girl: had no gloves her hands was so cold she twisted them like nerves to 
keep them warm 
The Lady: gave to me a dollar to help me have my ride 
Eye had the one the two was now the full day pass. 
The Reason: gone for going early the depression halving head again my heart 
split in two halves not meaning anything now hurting like the ending of a life 
could be my death if not recovered soon could mean the end of life 
Mechanical Buffon: eye eat eye try to breathe but not too much eye cry but nothing 
left that will come out 
And then it's over one more day of life. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Xanax and Valium

I'm so sorry about the pills
 I never meant for this but it kills
 Xanax and Valium were supposed to be my thrills
 but a simple extra pill left everyone with chills
 Barely able to focus I hear all the shrills 
The ambulance pulls up quickly as I fall 
I heard myself talk but I couldn't remember how to call
 Everything goes dark
 Leaving the light spark
 Hours went by
 People could only sigh
 As I woke up I cried
 Once again I failed when I tried
 But I won't give up on you...
 Xanax and Valium

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Three. Two. One. Screams of excitement, with a little bit of death in each roar. Disturbing the serenity of the big blue sky, piercing the atmosphere through a rebellious dive. I let gravity take control, putting my delicate life in her hands.

Swarm of suicidal thoughts each time he springs from the aircraft’s door. Floating in the air. Embracing the silence around him. Feeling his racing heart beats break through his rib-cage. The rush and thrill of dying always makes him contemplate the value of life. Up there, there is no worry. Up there, there is bliss.  A disapproving wife, not having locked eyes in years. Merciless children, all that remains are the photos on the living room desk. A receptionist job, growing insane from the accumulation of those counterfeited smiles. Up there, there is no worry. Up there, there is perfection. Approaching the ground, inner demons yell ‘do not pull that parachute cord!’ Rashly weighing the options in hand. What is the point in returning to a disgusting routine called life? The skin on his forehead quickly folds, his eyes are tightly shut. No reason for a man not to take his own life the way he pleases. A beeping noise from his wrist awakens him each time; at 2,500 feet the cord is cowardly pulled. With regret and pain, he reenters his home. Another promise broken, another promise made.

Freefalling into the sky, I finally understand. The ironic beauty of being, the verge of death.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Easel Tower

With closed eyes I lay back naked to surroundings and noise, escape. Pencil inside 
the soft grip a slide show of mind displays beauty, I see each mole, scar, shine and 
blemish as though touchable live flesh. Knowing the lids of my eyes and mind as the 
creator and opening my eyes will erase the art. I choose to sit in darkness.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Inadequate So They Say

A Story Of How This World  Can Bring One To Defeat......

Decrepit agony stumbles upon rain lit streets, an aimless soul 
desperation, he mumbles confusing pain. Lifeless and beat, a need that he resents, 
he tips the bottle to his mouth, oblivion once again. Brutal words of this world
have cast a cloud of gray, in years that have past, a man believed in all the deceivers 
had to say, devastated, a man falls victim to greed, deceit and wicked games.
Inadequate slurs they spoke in vein had slowly become ingrained,
and he, he believed. Along the river he sits alone, a lesson for humanity........

Words can devastate others and end lives, choose wisely.......

an aspect of inadequacy, ingrained   

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lost Cause

An ugly duckling, psychotic peeping Tom
creeping along dirty Blvd.
squatting behind dumpster
hidden shadow in back alley
drowning sorrows in a 40 ounce 211 Steel Reserve beer bottle
'Cause it's the only way 
that this skid-row poet knows how to cope
there's no hope for a down and out low-life psychopath

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Dream to be Best

In the deep slumber
Of thoughts fuzzier than ever
Close, and closer a voice echoes
Through the haze
And darkness of a nocturnal place
A face brightens the day
With the ray of hope

Touches this hand
And never let go
My face is just low
For an unworthy child
Just mild and helpless
Dependent and immature
That is who I am I know for sure

I'm so sorry that I am not Ideal
Not perfect full of mistakes
I am nothing, just nothing
Can't do everything
To be on top deep down I'm a mop

Cannot sleep, no peace inside
Please forgive me
I can't stop the pain
I can't make it go away
On the edge, I just fell
Thinking of it every single day
I might drown
By your thoughts
I cry and frown.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Modern Day Merlin

To the torn page out of Modern day Merlin’s book of wizardry,

I regret to inform you that you are nothing more than a recipe for tomato soup. You have no enchanted qualities about you, but you tend to brag about where you come from more times than you realize. Dear torn page, haven’t you noticed that the he only wondered on your whereabouts when his life was turning quite pale in color, and rugged in shape? Your words of zest, and your smooth direction brought vibrancy into his blue octagonal soul. Probably like how an octopus would feel escaping from a cloud of his own ink. He could breathe again.

But you’re lost now, and he doesn’t care much. You wonder why you were written in the first place if you’ve only felt what magic you can make once. If there are over 7 billion people in this world, have you ever wondered how many pages in books there might be? Has it ever occurred to you that out of those trillions of pages turned, over half haven’t been read at all? Has it ever occurred to you that books have been transformed into toys? Children in schools use you until they grow up and buy iPhones and laptops, and you’re left on sitting sideways on some rotting wooden shelf that has nothing more to talk about than how bad of a shape he’s in. Has it ever occurred to you that there are mysteries, histories, nursery rhymes, and adventures that have been overlooked because of the simple fact that humans have given up on the great things?

Actually, it would seem that giving up is the only thing their willing to give. Your black blood on a papyrus shell just doesn’t flow in the mind like it used to. You reminisce on the time when you were the only one that cast a spell on him, and you gave him life again.

Now the wizard is off signing autographs and performing shows at Rockefeller Center every first Friday of the month. He uses only spells so basic that he doesn’t have to read the step by step instructions anymore. To be honest, the book isn’t even used as frequently. I think I even saw a family of dust specks rent a home on page thirty-three last week.

But has it slipped your mind, humble recipe? Have you forgotten already of the position you’re in? You are a torn page now.

So float on by.

Let the wind keep you steady.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fire

Fire that burns;
Fire it burns,
Heaven and Earth-
The heaven of earth.
The fire I see
Burns the visions;
The fire I see
That burns for reasons.
The tsunami of fire,
The fire of tsunami-
All hurt, 'cause,
Fire! It burns!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wishing you could love me too

You mean so much to me, more then you'll ever know. 
More then ill ever be able to describe.
But I'll try.
Voice of a angel, touch ever so soft you would think its a feather.
Eyes so beautiful seeing them on a sunset day, medusa stare ever so hypnotizing locking eyes can't look away.
Baby in the tummy, heart just started beating giving me a rush that I really needed.
Love so old I feel defeated.
Even though I do everything for you, I'm looking out for me just keeping a close over view upon you.
How can I fix your life if mine isn't alright, but i don't know where id ever be with out you by my side.
And I thought I'd never know but as of now I'm pushing through. 
Now that your gone, I miss you every night.
But I gotta be strong.
Cause if not you'll be gone and ill be with a baby missing its mom.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


As Both human and fox, she knows the pains of life that belong to each.

Her cunning, wit, and charm serve her well. her life has been harrowing 
Outcast from both her kith and kin she is too human for the fox, too fox for the humans.
But she at last found a place where she belonged thanks to the one human who  can still accept her For what she is, both human and fox

Your welcome Kitsune

you have made my life peacefull whilst you are near
and for that i thank you

Details | Prose Poetry | |



My words can only convey the thought
Not the true feelings that flow within
The rage that burns through my body and mind
Cannot be measured by any verb or string of words

Self imposed exile from any semblance of reality
The only peace I know resides alone, an untapped well
I am not the person everyone thinks that I am
I am not at all what I appear to be, disguised

This world I know is not my world, I do not belong
Far removed from any road I care to travel
Stolen chances echo loudly in my mind
And I know that I can never know what I was to be

I look back not liking much of what I see
And looking ahead the future is bleak in front of me
Overcoming my misfortunes really hasn’t mattered
Because they are still the anchors that will always weigh me down

Family and friends, the rising and setting sun, the air we breathe
Cliché's reserved for those moments when all is clear
Darkness and despair, anger and frustration, disgust
Cliché's reserved for when an ending is near

And all I see is light at the end of the tunnel,
Signaling the nearness of my destination.
It’s soon to be over …

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Free me please

I have to hide how I feel 
I can't tell any of my friends about my deviant art
I can't say how I feel to him
(Beleive me I have tried he won't listen)

On sundays 
I dred the hour
Of six 'o clock 
At that moment in time is when I must leave
At that time my eyes begin to water

I love to go to Church,yes,
But I hate to go back to him

Our lives are in ruins because of him
He's heartless
And only cares about him 

One day soon I hope to be free 

One day soon I can be me.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

love me

love me when im strong.
love me when im me when im me when im mad.
love me when im me when im me nomatter what mood im me to the moon and back.

love jamie

Details | Prose Poetry | |


He waits by the fire
But he cannot get warm
He sleeps outdoors
With the mangy dogs
And loose women of the night
Who've fallen off the radar.
The shelter won't let him in
He too crazy
And his family don't care
He wants a bus pass to the skies
Though he compromises and dies

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Memories June 9 1999

The touches, tears and cries for help, a child living in fear.
Being told never to tell a soul, to ashamed to look in the mirror.
Not being able to trust anyone, because of being betrayed.
Now haunted by what has been done, praying the memories will fade.
Surrounded by many shattered dreams and all hope taken away.
Drowning in fear of being violated again, their eyes plead the words they can not say.
The memories will always stay with a child buried deep into the mind.
A permanent barrier now built within, keeping anything from getting inside.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hope Lost

Wanting all
Getting none
All this before the day is even done

Lost hope and burnt dreams
Have now but a shell to inhabit
Now reality has sunk in
And expectations
Are residing in the bin

Hope is a blender of emotions
Hope is longing
Wanting more
Needing much
Hope grinds away at your conscience
Contorting your psyche
Wrecking your inner peace

Despair follows hope
A multiplier of sorrows
An architect of self-imposed doom
Despair hope’s inner skin
Wraps a wanting man in darkness
Numbing him

When hope leaves
It stains a man
Whose abandoned dreams reek his environment
A stench most unbearable
We often wish to run away
From this contagious misery

Nowhere out is the theme of his day
Of him that let hope fly away
Misery gnaws flesh long since deadened
By constant doom
He only lives to see is misfortunes mushroom

His ever present pain is his only comfort
Brooding with resentment
He plot his own downfall
Sinking deeper into a mire of self-pity
A shattered man is he

With No care for the world or himself
Life is but a brutal regime
Of outcomes imposed on him
Him who has now become a non-entity
An unseen man he is forever going to be

Sometimes the shackles of living
Won’t release you
No matter how much you wish
That death would consume you

Grinning and bearing it is no use
If woe and suffering always comes in twos
You often wish you were in anothers’ shoes
For this life is not the one you would choose     

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Scrambled Clues

Scrambled Clues…

Night has fallen
The fog settles over the land
Only in closeness
Can you see the faces
The eyes closed, windows against torrid rain
While ideas flash and beat the mind

Helplessly watching
Waiting for the escalator to reach the top
So you may step into daylight

But in daylight
The fog drifts to the water
Always a step ahead
Blinding me to the depths
Through which I am falling

Please someone
Help me
I am losing my mind
And as of yet not certain,
Even faintly aware,
  Of when night will fall again
  Bringing with it,
  The soothing rain of darkness

For my brother Gregory.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love WLM March 29 2011

I feel so hurt
And so much like a jerk
For I have lost my dream
Just let it out and scream
What did I do
Can I ask you
Am I to be alone
All I can do is groan
I ask God will it ever be
Does she really want me
Please Lord let her call
For me to be that is all
I am so stuck in a rut
Do I just give up
Can not hold back the tears
The return of all my fears
I hope to see
That she really needs me
I will never know
For she will have to show
Can you give me my best friend
Or have I lost her again
Tell me did I sin
Should I just give in
I am at my wits end
Knowing not where to begin
I sit here and moan
At me just throw the heavy stone
Please, oh please hit the mark
Then I know it will break my heart
I always feel the use
Finally I remember the abuse
My feelings inside
Will never subside
Why not go ahead and fall
With my life just end it all
Does anyone really care
That would be so rare
For all I feel is lost
And in the end that is the cost

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Children of the World

“Gone by the way Right, have our Children of the World, if not only willed but for your grace, but yet, for a bouquet of flowers thay lay forced in our embrace – Such is the keep Of Mothers & Bugs that Weep!”

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When you're just not thinking

Remorse is building up inside of me,
Everyone has to know fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,
Never thought you could try so hard and still fall short,
I’m in need of something to fill this hole in my chest,
It grows bigger,
Moving deeper,
Making me realize that some things can’t ever be achieved or obtained,
I’m gonna bottle up my heart and let it float out in the sea,
Never to be found,
Never to be seen,
No more pain can be caused when it’s somewhere at the bottom of the sea,
I need to face the fact that I’m going to lose everything if I keep on the path of my sanity,
I want to believe that things can only go up for me,
But that’s life,
Your gonna suffer,
Sitting in the corner rocking back and forth,
Head so low you can see caskets from the recently diseased,
It’ll be pouring showers from all the crying that’s going to be happening,
I know life might seem hard sometimes,
And trust me it is,
I know that shotgun looks shiner by the minute,
And trust me it does,
But just bottle up your heart and send it away,
Like I did,
Because no matter what you’re going through,
What might be going through your head right now,
Just isn’t worth it..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Basic Rules to Live By

When communication fails, resort to loneliness.
When loneliness fails, resort to communication.
When resorting fails, communicate with your
lonely self and meet your only friend.

When you give up someone else's dream, you begin to live.
When you free yourself from your own dreams, you realize that you've
never lived at all.
Then, when you dream, you'd rather be living.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Common Sense on A Shelf

As the crimson color fades away,

I think about all the hardships from every day.

I am the only one that truly knows about my pain,

The pain I face each day, that never seems to go away.

I do not ever regret any of the damage I did to myself,

But I do regret leaving my common sense to gather dust on the shelf.

I knew that what I was doing was not okay,

But I insisted on continuing every day.

The starving,

The cutting,

The fasting,

The binging,

I wish I could restart from the beginning.

I watched me destroy myself,

Because I left my common sense on a shelf.

I continued to watch my life pass me by, 

As everything around me began to die.

I clearly remember losing every single friend,

Because they could not stand being there from beginning to end.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Friend in Doubt

A Friend in Doubt
July 2, 2011 

Thought I had a true friend
He would be there till the end
In the end I found out 
What he was all about
Making me the shrew
And giving me the screw
Though the years we were there
All we did was help and share
You show concern 
But then you learn
His name is Jimmy and so full of bull
He treats most as a fool
Once he is alone
It will finally lost last be shown
Just keep on to thyself lying
Because soon you will be dying
Things will be better in the end
Cause life will be begin again
But now a lost friend to me 
So my life is finally free

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My pain

blood drips down
locked the door
the stinging starts to fade
everything becomes a blur
i know lay in the tub
in the cold water
my my arms stings
then the pain fades
i go under hopping not to come back up for air
and i feel my body going numb
i open my mouth to get a water in and blood
i tell myself to stay under
and then everything fads away
no more pain
my heart stops
the pain leaves me
my dead body is in the tub
untill someone starts looking for me
when they find my body
it will be to late

Details | Prose Poetry | |


over look you can book
thats what it took
for us to be free
you see the key
you will not be defeat

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unexpected Circumstances


a voiceless wind howls in the evening twilight, slowly he crept to his feet to performance 
his theatrical delusion once again. Passionate words to stifle the innocent, precarious 
actions to trap the unsuspecting. Dying inside, this man, held in torture within his own 
mind, he cries for a way out of his twisted lies. Stumbling down the stairs, sweat 
pouring down his ageless face, nervous rambling spills from his mouth, he contemplates 
the words to to dominate his need. Arriving in grand fashion, the elite club redeem, 
scanning and searching the fortress like a ravenous pig, a lovely lady chosen, his mind 
complicate. A sweet word of encouragement, to her oasis of comfort, agreed. This man: 
a man of great intelligence, a man of a complicated need, a tainted glass of white wine 
elegance, gone, a diamond legacy. He forces her to her knees, black clouds arrive, 
misery appears a dream. Stripped of a million dollar masterpiece, tied and bound, he 
leaves.Morning light comes painful, a desperate realization she sees, 
in confusion, agony, her soul, empty, she bleeds. Alone he sits in silence, a 
song of a dark victory he sings, tortured. 


*For a Man whom steals and harms another human being for monetary value.
*He shall stand in judgement!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Not much vacuum to do
Looks very relax and cool
Not suffice dust and hairs
Because the hairy one already not here
Left behind some from my favorite apple in her bathroom
Yet as time goes by she’ll go to different shelter very soon
The house becomes very quiet with ….echo
It’s another challenge and tough page for me
But I rather to be home alone then pay high price for company
end with hidden tears
I’m trying hard to look for part-time or full-time job to spend my sunset days
Trying hard not to bother anyone and gain back my self-esteemed before my final day.
August 13 2012 @ 1:00 pm

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dying Dreams

The young dream their dreams away at night

Hoping they come true

A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young

Too naive to understand the ways of the world

Determined as ever to achieve their dreams

The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish

They had dreams but unknowingly never came true

You go from living a world full of dreams

To living the reality that is life

Why do we let our dreams die

We were so excited as young kids

At the foot step of our dreams

Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb

To make our dreams come true

Did we simply quit

Because of society’s pressure

Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night

Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts

Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it

Why do dreams die so quickly

When we spent years of our youth

Hoping that we could get an opportunity

To make them come true

Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die

Details | Prose Poetry | |

the sorrowful feeling of rejection....(maybe not sure on my titles)

the sorrowful feeling of rejection
slumbering in the heart like a deep infection

i wish i could make it go away

but i beleive its here to stay

i wish i could make it dissapear

but its always just right here

i wish i could remember how to love

but after all have i ever really loved?

Details | Prose Poetry | |



You put smile on my lips
Oh! How can I resist?
It’s like bringing me a magical piece
Where I am the princess an you’re my prince

But it seems I have no place
In your heart where can I stay?
Oh! Maybe I should go away
Away where I can’t feel more pain

Because it’s harder even more
The pain inside my heart slowly breaks my soul
I tried not to think of you
Believe me I did but I failed too

And now it’s been two years
My heart beats still the same
Still shouting your name
Two years of loving you still gives me pain.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

No way out

We all know someone who has been depressed before.
We might have experienced depression ourselves. Being stressed out has become a integral part of life for many. Possibly we are withdrawn and feeling numb inside. Stress can be a result of many everyday occurrences. Financial problems, getting in debt or overextended, is a stressor most of us have shared with millions. The loss of a loved one, a marriage or breakup is a common stressor. A change in circumstances, an eviction notice or your home being foreclosed upon, car repossessed and homelessness have become commonplace as well. Going through bankruptcy, a pay cut, layoff at work or having to suspend further education due to lack of funds has touched many lives. These stressors are not rare but as a community we see them happening daily. Society as a whole expects us to just move on and deal with these ups and downs with little or no effect on our mental and physical well being. I specifically use these terms, because often this toll greatly effects the individual and then is ignored. As we take our health for granted and are ashamed of the stigma attached to any kind of mental health issue, we overlook the consequences of everyday stress.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Another Miserable Love Letter

Dear Victory Girl from the bay or [dock]

I knew you'd be beautiful

for the sake of the decline...let hedonism take its toll...
Just so I Can Forget

How do you smile like that?

I'm bleeding gallons thinking of your face.

My most sincere pains,shames,claims,and thought about pet names, lie with you


Unused,and abused

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twisted Karma

Fate has led my heart to find
A love that was never destined to last
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
For my cruel and heartless past
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
And threw my love in the trash

A life-altering war rages on
That split our apartment in two 
Some nights I lay against the wall
That separates me from you.
Tormented by this endless pursuit
That rips my heart through and through

An intrinsic insanity leads me on
I imagine you on the other side
Strumming your fingers across the wall
While my child grows inside
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
To where our memories lie
A sense of longing derives
Inside your wicked lies

I’m wallowing in broken dreams
And taunted by the burdens I choose
I once believed this was my ‘happy ever after’
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Hoping that I’m done paying dues
And maybe someday you will choose
To stop treating me like you do
We’ll get back to being me and you
Settle down and say ‘I do”

But there you go
Out the door into his arms
You chose his dim-witted presence
Over my witty charm
To0 blind to see the harm
In trading that broken home for ours?

Spare his feelings to obliterate mine
You say you feel obligated to be with him
When you’re not lying in my arms
A broken faith in you snaps from within
This could possibly be the end?
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
No longer my friend

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

an angel

An angel.

I thought I saw an angel today when I was remembering you.
You are in my waking day, I dream its just me and you.

When I go and walk a while I think your by my side
And then I remember the truth of it all and that you had to die.

I don’t know why im so confused
They say death is  part of life
But you were so little my love
You had not lived your life.

They say you have gone to heaven
And that you are a star
But I don’t believe them, not at all
I just know that you are far

I hope one day I will see you again 
And we will smile and laugh and dance
And I wait with anticipation for the day
That I will get another chance.

I love you

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I wake up in the morning, The smell of your perfume lingering on my skin, I roll over to see if your body still lay there, & I realize everything I loved vanished. I just have these images and scents stuck in my head, I have everything you ever gave me packed away, I look through it again and again each day. Trying to piece the puzzle together, & figure out why we drifted apart. I want to know if you still think about me like I think about you, I want to know if you still have the things I made and gave to you. I just wish I could stop smelling you, Stop thinking about you, Just everything about you brings me to my knees, & I am begging you please, Please just let me forget you. I wake up the next morning and realize, Everything about you was lies.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The dirty rolling crap

The dirty rolling crap
 Written 10-17-05 Edited 5-4-07

 must evacuate the area
 my mother's on the pot and it's starting to rot Yuck that's one big load
 watch out the toilet's going to explode 
thunder and lightning from the room 
She's coming better get the broom 
She heaves her flab as she begins to blab
 Young Lady! Why were you by the bathroom? Ooh no here she comes run away!
 She trips and rolls 
Watch out or your going to turn flat
 Hurry go get the bat 
I'm so out of here! 
Holy shit!
 She killed me! 
She squished me 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What is priceless

what is priceless? If the world seems ruthless, if you feel being so useless, remember, something in you is really priceless You may feel the worse flowing in you, you may also feel pains, are stuck with glue, if you feel being so useless , remember, something in you is really priceless. Lonely sometimes, you may feel so low, you may be shot, with life’s dangerous arrow, If you feel being so useless, remember, something in you is really priceless. Turns will also come in your life, betraying sadness, disguised as happiness will stab a knife. If you feel being so useless, remember, something in you is really priceless. What ever worst may be the situation, even if life leaves you in worn condition, If you feel being so useless, remember, the courage in you is what is priceless. -‘Panchi’ Panchal Hitesh D. UNSUPPORTED CODE

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Let us go to certain half-desserted restaurant
Where cheese is spread on the table like an elkmilksheet  
Steaks are burnt, curries are bland, puddings are mulberry mist
Let us go to certain half-deserted street
Where women come and go like milkrunners
Wenches in hand the spanners span the Einstein's space
( Here I am dizzy,I am confused, should it be my space?)
They are savvy nuts pulling legs of navvies 
They are all dancing quirks and frizzling squidface
I am Nero, I am nerd, I like to fly like a booming bird
But hey see all bullshit I am bamboozled in a brown pit
I am cheated, I am a cheat
I am timid, I browbeat
Let us go to certain half-deserted street
Kiss her kill her miss her mess her give Sue a treat
I am not fit.
I have heard bunkers singing
Weapons roar, F-16 kinking
Tattered cops and freaks swinging
Cows are mooing churchbells ringing.
Children laughing, couples blinking
Midsummer snow snowstars twinkling.
Churchbells ringing........................
Shanti Shanti Shanti.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


In the smoke of cannabis induced haze
Whispers of ogres & imps of bygone age
Laughter echoes,
Fallen angels by the side
Of friends left behind…
And of memories washed ashore

A few tokes one too many
Broken blinds of my windows
Someone is peeping in now
Its just light…
Darkness seemed comforting
Of the many nights of insomnia
Some dreams are best seen awake

Stoned! But respite is none
Lines don’t rhyme… am I the one?
Who is crying?
Tears are just, wasted stains
Melancholy is a form of pastime
Nostalgia a derivative of self

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oh beautiful angel

oh beautiful angel so kind, so divine
where have you gone,
where have you gone?
I have been searching,
I have been loving;
exhausted I am,
oh exhausted I will always be,
while looking for the beautiful angel,
whose so kind, so divine,
where have you gone,
where have you gone?

The silver laced moon barely shining
behind purple painted skies,
barely any stars in sky,
looking up for the beautiful angel,
whose so kind, so divine,
where have you gone,
where have you gone?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Had The Best Love By Far

I didn't want to forget you The thousands picture of you Lodged in my heart. We share so much in a short time, So much I learned from you. Reminders of you stay fresh, Pain is unrecognizable, Not a glimpse of hope in this Darkness. If this wall could talk, You'd know about my fears. It's cold making me feeling less. Shadows cast across the floor, Reflection of the past. Ashtrays fill with sleepless nights, A tear I shed for loving you, We had the best love by far.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Confessions

Lost between Heaven and Hell, battlements of my spirit and mind, Raptures me into 
the new day, but delivers me in the darkness of night. I argue within my mind, that 
shall wither it blind, randomly I search for the meaning that enhances the light. I 
wander through the ailment that haunts me so. Small amounts of peace keep me 
driving onward, though I feel no glow. In-between both I am haunted with one 
sight, Glimpse of the dream I hold so dear, with massive amounts of fear, my 
menacing fantasy keeps me on my fight. Each week that passes seems as everyone 
that fell before.
My soul knows my end is of a different kind, knowing the sin that I carry each night 
and the penance that I must endure. My destiny is not what I see, But is what I 
deeply ignore. Lost between Heaven and Hell, My soul cannot sell, this torment, I 
speak is a different form I break, Not just any ordinary sin, I have no-where to begin.
No end to reach, my darkness seeks light, though there is no realization to teach. I 
am haunted by the past that lonely night that seizes, though it pleases me ,but no 
other can live in the desire that I speak here and now, Others have traveled this 
road without any dark temptation, though I would lose all interpretation, with great 
litigation. Lost now and forever my dream, forgotten almost it may seem. Distant 
calls engorge my thoughts, memories chase my spirit, and lust envelops my soul, 
into the realm betwixt Heaven and Hell. My dream I shall bury, my destiny, I shall 
marry within my mind and spirit. These darkened nights shall grab the bright days 
down into the mishap of grace. I will council each cheerful day and plant a smile on 
my face. However, the agony shall drive my heart to a stainless hollowness of 
discomfort my continued dream shall live on and inhabit this shell. This shell 
someday shall wither away; there will be nothing left to tell.

Written for

Sponsor Catie Lindsey 
Contest Name Dark Prose 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You think this glass is empty- you're wrong

You think the glass is empty?

You're wrong

I harbour all the empty in the world

And so this glass, this room, this place cannot be empty

Because I am

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Soul decaying, heart breaking, knees shaking,
And still nothing I can do to make your presence fade,
You’re nowhere in sight yet you still make yourself known,
Now I know the feeling of getting your heart thrown, 
Into a dark lifeless pit of tragedy and despair,
Knowing your arms wrapped around the waist of another,
Tares my soul in two,
I’m drowning in my own tears,
And grasping nothing but blood,
I hate seeing my heart cut up and dropped in front of me,
I sit on the floor with my head down,
Rib cage open and arms drenched in red remorse,
And you,
Standing above me with a blank stare and what was my heart,
I’m never waking,
And you’re gone and taking,
What was my heart grasped in your hand and a plane ticket in the other,
Smiling at him starry eyed,
And I’m still waiting to get that heart back,
Hoping it’s from you,
But now I’m hoping it can be from another,
I can’t wait to learn how to finally love you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Secretly treading on the wrong path
I'm afraid of my of my own shadow
Chasing me down the lane
Disappointed by my own self
and reeking of fear within
Even my breath stinks of fear
The unknown and the future all unclear
You don't who trust and who to blame
You are just there.

Louis muhereza

Details | Prose Poetry | |

what fools are we

Everybody wants to live for ever
They try very hard not to die
Their activities are so disastrous
They make Mother Nature cry

We attempt to engineer longevity
And delay the inevitable
Unable to bear the burden
Of a transient existence
We set ourselves up as gods over nature

Death follows us wherever we go
Time will cause us to be forgotten
We only inhabit a few seconds
In the hour that is life
We can never outlive what we are yet to fully understand
For nature has its own agenda

Our advancement has been rapid
Our hopes have been triumphed
By our energetic abilities
We aim to conquer 
And claim dominion over all 

Our anxiety regarding our significance
Harangues our thoughts
Man categorises and type cast’s all
To understand the creator
He delves deep into the cosmos
And dissects the Supreme's intentions
He aches to know where it all began

Man understands not
The unique balance that is life
He wishes to humble all
To the throne that is his ego

Knowing does not mean understanding
We know what happens to the seed as it grows
But not why the need for a seed
Some things are best left to faith
We may only know
What we need to know

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Some hide their inner glow
Deep within themselves
What evils torment them
They don’t even know

Life for them is a struggle
Time never flies 
It only plods away 
Eroding a psyche
That keeps hope at bay

It’s always winter in their mind
Summer and light
Never shines through
The cobwebs in their head
They cannot ever manoeuvre through

Desires are overwhelmed by anxiety
Hope trampled by despair
Caution and inertia leads the way 
They hug their gremlins
And keep them always near

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Prison life

Prison life 
Written 5-4-07 Edited 5-5-07
Your locked up inside
 For years at once
 With a future waiting ahead 
You try to reach
 But it slips away 
Gradually you back down 
While your life fades slowly
 You want to escape your past 
But can only move forward 
The choices run through your head 
Followed by the actions you take everyday 
Your love bit by bit disappears 
Nothing but the hate you seek
 But then someone shows up
 A beautiful sixteen year old girl 
She encourages you to believe
 You rise off your knees 
Move steps further
 And achieved a brighter future... 
A whole new life

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What's love

What's love
 Written 11-2-05 Edited 5-5-07
Is this love
 To conceive a graceful dove 
And receive a heavenly kiss
 When you're sensitively pissed?
 Being cuddled tight 
Appreciating the sight? 
Keeping you safe
 By gaining such faith? 
Defending you're life
 Before you use a knife? 
Raising you off the ground
 When you're mourning and feeling down? 
To wipe a tear
 When you embrace a fear? 
Holding you're hand
 While resting in the sand? 
Such a soft touch 
Is this love?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


ones the hard beat
its hard on his feet
he has to eat
and sleep
so has to compeat
can't think defeat
or be defeat
has to be strong underneat

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In the full view of things

In the full view of things 
people will always be harsh 
People will always be stuck up 
Nobody will ever try to help 
Whenever I cry for someone to help 

Nobody comes....

Sometimes I think I am not crying loud enough to hear 
But then I relize,
They only pretend not to hear 
He tells me he cares 
But I know he lies 

He ALWAYS lies....

No matter how hard I try 
No matter what I do 
He still is not satisfied 
He and his frankinstine bride 
Be forwarned... the tale about step mothers.... is true.

They always lie....

They think I am insane 
So they send me to this person
She calls herself a consoler... haha.....
She doesn't have a clue 
She lies, she knows nothing of privet thoughts, and should not be called a counsoler.

What do they know any way....

My mind is my mind 
No one elses to invade 
But if you're brave enough to try 
Good luck getting out... well could say the same 
My mind is always busy 
I can't remember a time when I wasn't thinking 
About the past 
About things I could have said or done 
Or about the future I wish could be true 

I don't know who to trust..... except for one........

My mom 
My sweet and loveing mother 
She is my everything
I love and trust her  
More than I can say

I trust her I love her....

My mom knows me better than anyone I know
She knows my fears, dreams, and hopes
She loves me 
She trust me 
She is the one who helped me when no one would 

I hate him......

The man poseing as a father 
The man who was never there for me
The person I want to be the farthest away from 
I am forced to live with 
By a boges court 
Full of hypocrits and morons 

Why should they get to pick.......

They tell me where I get to go 
They tell me I don't know
OH but I do 
I know more than they could possibly dream of knowing 
Seven years I had been hideing 
Seven years I have known 
He is a heartless monster 

I was there.....

All they had was papers 
I wasn't even aloud in the room 
I had all the proff they needed 
Seven years of experence
But it didn't matter 

One day we will be home with our mother where we belong.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


July 31, 2011

Been caught in a scam
Should I have just ran
Try to be good
For God as we should
Always to get bit
Just take another hit
Never knowing why
But continue to try
To live with the strife
Just wanted a wife
Will we ever just fit in the groove
Or should we just move
On the Golden list
I do not jist
Or just change my name
To fit and stay in the game
Never, never win
So I will just give in

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Comfort Food

It's the taste of tears
and ice-cream
in a big plastic

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality at its best

The human mind
so unkind, so devious,
it can sting like a bee
then leave,
before your eyes-
then what your eyes can see, 
they don't really see it at all.
It's all in a dream,
this messed reality,
it's warped, when rainbows spit hail,
children don’t smile at clowns,
they laugh.
It’s cursed, this place called Earth
And it’s no longer a paradise,
What was is lost and there’s nothing left. Nothing.
I see the storm clouds, nothing blue.
No sun, but where has it all gone?
What happened to my pills, misplaced purposely.
It really doesn’t matter if you are alone
Cause no one else believes you.
You have no other home,
Just knives falling from the sky,
And once you look up, 
You’ll quit asking why.
And once you’re soul asks you to bargain,
The devil will speak once more,
The angels surrounded ignore
Cause you’ve lost who you were before.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


With more than a hint of anxiety
I doubt all around me
Seeing demons in every shadow
I worry constantly

No rest for my mind
No peace for my conscience
Every breeze that blows
Is an omen of impending doom

I feel so marooned
Far away from tranquillity
I need someone to rescue me

I question all
I analyse minutely
Nothing satisfies me
I am always frazzled

The strain of fear weakens me
I feel unable to be happy
I wonder about what ifs
And throw constant strops and tiffs
I didn’t realise life was going to be like this

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sailor and I

Spiraling sensations of heightened instability cascade through an unsuspecting conscience, a chaotic whirlpool engulfs the psyche in seas of self inflicted torment and despair, illogically intertwined with fleeting moments of delusions, escape and grandeur, torn between everything that is and is not, what once was, what never was, what once was elsewhere, and what lies in the distance unknown. 

Desires to vacate this epoch of mundane existence without immediate destination permeate through every pore, confined by the all encompassing wet suit of societal boundaries, perilously trapped, craving comforts of previous experience like a stranded sailor anxiously await sight of land, and the utopian vision an uncertain future, devoid of realistic premise.

Disparate from islands and coastlines imprinted upon atlas, the past is a destination left unvisited save for flickering images, memories sewn into the fabric of the psyche. The vessel of the mind gives way to leaks, the images trickle into the recesses of one's inner thoughts, a barely perceptible drip, progressing into an uncontrollable flood of psychosis, the struggling vessel begins to capsize, obsession establishes itself as the dominant state of mind. 

One‘s future, an unwritten infinite epilogue to the present, reminiscent of the empty pages in a captain's log documenting this doomed voyage, once expected to be filled with tales of riches and feats of exploration but now submerged in a cold and murky existence awaiting to be pulled from the abyss. 

Expectations and desires succumb to the realities of circumstance as the mind concedes certain defeat, a casualty of pre entitlement and wishful thinking, a drowning sailor whose final thoughts establish the realization that the ambitions of the soul often exceed the limitations of the body.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I lost my Way

                                                  I lost my Way

                                        I lost my way through life,
                                        Because I refuse to bend with sacrafice.
                                        Left in a world of doom's pleasure,
                                        I missed the mark of goodly measure.

                                        With bad decisions and a rebellious pride,
                                        I dangerously lived on the other side.
                                        Causing my ruin and depliting good,
                                        From lifes golden hand I was misunderstood.

                                        Now I am living a life of sad lies,
                                        Knowing that I've caused my own demise.
                                        Still their is a place I must see,
                                        That my decisions are a real reality..

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I wonder
If this knife is sharp enough?
It has to cut deep to sever the vein in my thigh
I have been wondering lately
About death, about dying and of decay

What’s after death anyway . . ?
Does dying hurt, can I make it easier?
If I have a soul will it decay as my body does?
Will it grow old and die?

I wonder lately why I tried
What was it that I was reaching for anyway?
Why did I think it could be found in others?
I wonder why I thought they cared
How could they when I never did
How can I see them through another day all over again,
When I can hardly make it through one more myself?

I wonder why I wanted to try
I’ve done enough, more than enough . . ?
I can’t find anymore strength
They’ve sucked it all up
And never given anything back
I’m running on empty
No more, nothing anymore . . .

Why should I continue in the face of defeat
Day in, day out I can never hope to win
I wonder why I bothered
If they cared I’d know it by now
I can wonder until I’m blue in the face
I will never know will I?
Unless I try,
Unless I do it
Do it . . .

. . .

I wonder now that I’ve done it
And its begun
Will God turn away from me too?
I wonder
Wonder . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Alone I wander
in increasing darkness,
an endless black hole
the pain never ends.

I do not hurt on the outside,
my leg is not broken,
my face is not scarred,
but my mind is dying.

I do not have words,
I cannot explain,
There is no sense 
no simple reason.

I cannot pull myself together,
snap out of it, or turn my frown
upside down.   I can only cry
deep down inside, the part you cannot see.

It is so black, I wish it would end
it is a pain that sometimes, only death can release.
Be assured I do not want to die, 
Just to escape from the darkness in my soul.

I cannot pretend to be happy,
to make you all feel better.
I cannot stop the pain I feel,
Cannot, cannot be a person Im not.

So do not ask, just listen,
hold me when the pain is bad.
Be there when I need you most
Do not say words I cannot hear.

Im working through the darkness,
I need to hold your hand.
I need to know you wont leave
That you'll try to understand.

I cannot give you logic,
I cannot give you answers.
I can only be me in a dark dark world,
Will you walk with me?

In Memory of Mork, a part of my childhood now gone.   13/8/14.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Waiting for an epiphany
A life in transit
Keyhole visions… narrowed too fine
Cynicism, mockery doing rounds
Despairing times… out of bounds

What could’ve been and what is…
Funny how the story doesn’t change
Driftwood listless, aimless
Who is your huckleberry finn?
Hypocrisies, deceit, lies and everything lame
That just leaves god left to blame

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pondering continued

"Still no good, 
try harder and harder.".. 
Prove this, 
prove that... 

Everything in life- 
Big task... 
I can do anything... 
And I can, 
no satisfaction, 
nothing was good enough... 

"You're wasting your time,
you're wasting your life... 
You can be more, 
straighten up... 
Use your mind.".. 

I did... 
I did and it still,
ain't good enough... 

Task, test, test, test... 

More things to prove... 
No-one happy... 
I wasn't good enough, 
do better, you're not stupid...

"Use your talents, 
stop wasting them... 
Why are you like this??". 

And I wonder, 
why do you push me??. 
Why can't you accept me??. 

I've tried, 
but I focused on the wrong... 

"You could do better... 
No, yes, no, yes, 
better", they say...

"You can do it, 
you just ain't trying.".. 
You're stupid
if you can't do this or that... 

Why do you do this to hurt us??. 
Why can't you be like so and so??".  

But so and so isn't no better...

Why be competitive??. 
Why do I know things that are beyond??. 

Why was I stuck in a situation,
that I am someone??. 

When I feel like, 
I'm no-one... 

Why was I pressured and pressured??.  
Why only me??. 
And why was I always to blame??. 
And why did so many people,
fall for me??. 

But turn their backs on me... 

What did I do??. 
Why do people treat me like I'm an artifact, 
like I'm a a God??. 

Am I me??. 


Written: OCJ or GCI in 1997

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Finding My Pure Heart

All the violence on TV was probably not good for me
All the decapitated corpses on video games not the brightest idea for me
Life’s real dramas just frustrate me
All the fabricated television dramas annoy me
We all love a happy ending yet we consume the misery and pain of others
Haunted by life changing events
At times I just simply need to vent
Why be educated and humble when being ignorant and shallow brings you fame
Why save your virginity for marriage, when society’s sluts take all the good guys that a girl covets
Why be a nice guy, when all the respectable women settle for assholes yet are surprised when they are mistreated and cheated on
Why live a life down the correct path, when the wrong path is glorified and admired by society
Beneath the darkness and rubble of life exist the flickering white light of my once pure heart

Find more of my writings and poems at

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Between Heaven and Hell

What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
In between this heaven and this hell
Believing in God more than what the people tell
What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
Under the sun
Never ending Corruption
In between this heaven and this hell

Between zero year and the end times
I've bidden my time
Smoke and mirrors
A day further
Time goes on
That  light on the horizon
Is just a mirage
Just the glare off a shiny nickel in the dirt
Nothing but Despair
The entire world 
In a state of dis-repair
We march on further
Into the abyss

A day further
Time goes on 
So what shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
In between this heaven and this hell
Believing in God more than what the people tell
What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
Under the sun
Never ending Corruption
In between this heaven and this hell

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pity Trip

Pity Trip
July 24, 2011

I need to die
And I know why
The pity trip
My soul to rip
I have no life
So full of strife
No one knows
How can they
There is no way
Shall I stay another day
WHY oh Why
I just want to die
But what of Darla
My only friend
What will happen to her
She is the only one who needs and wants me
She is the my freedom
She soothes my soul
And makes me whole
She always knows
When I am down
With the whole world closing around
I need my puppy so
And only she will ever know
Now I must go
To where I do not know

Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Salty Waves Pt 2

Call the lost cause, call out the Guard, because I'll say drowning is hard. You realize that you're all alone, to view pearly or fiery thrones. And when it hits, your mind's been blown. There's nothing you can do for me. I'm at the mercy of the sea. A kinder mistress than your she. Nothing's real! Nothing's fake! We don't realize the choices we make  Come back to us in the oddest way. Such as where I am today. With what I found, could I stay there? And play pretend like there's no care? Of course I could, of course I would, if it meant I'd have you like I should. But there you go, I see you now, walking the beach holding your cow. But wait... the cow, not she, is me! So who am I supposed to be!? Am I the wife, or mistress here? All I feel is rising fear. Her wedding ring.. glowing so clear. The sea has given me her mercy. I have but yet one final plea. Give to her what you'd give to me. One of us should be happy. The surface breaks and here I go. I thrash, but halt. It's cold as snow. Now comes the part that we all know. The Guard has come, the day's been saved. But of those glimpses was I crazed? And where's the man who I so craved? Well, give him freedom, and give him much, but never lose your lady's touch. His love for you will grow to such Great amount's he'll never go, and leave you here to drown like so.  Was it a dream? I'll never know. Ah look, it's Death In form  Of crows...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Damage Will Always Be There

The Damage Will Always Be There

I cried,I bleed,And now my heart longer beats the same way it did before I meet you.My heart feel broken,i feel like a rag doll played with over and over again only to be thrown away.I miss your love but now your gone and my hearts ache the most it has ever.There are time's I wonder if  I have been lying to myself,I must be because my heart should fee lighter it should feel like a free winged bird but it not.The damage the cuts the sores they shall be with my from happy time to sad time because you put them there.You who I looked up to you never promised I know but it aches from every thought of you.How come how come I must be alone in this world? It sound selfish but I only want you back to be here beside me and tell me you love me and I'm doing a great job with everything.Why does it hurt to think of you?why does it pain me to want to be lose to anyone?why does everyone leave me behind when I need them the most?why am I so closed up with a stone wall full of hate surrounding my heart?I know it shouldn't be there but do you? In time the cut will heal and the sores shall vanish.But what about the feelings and the damage inflicted upon them will never leave.Yes it sounds so cliche yes you've heard it all before.But really and this is know this is said this is everything I know.The damage is there no matter how much it seems to have healed.

For my grandmother who i lost now 5 years ago Granny i miss you i wish you would have fought for us a little longer then you did.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Karma Twisted

Who am I to you?

I love you
No longer my fried
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
This could possibly be the end
A broken faith in you snaps from within
When you’re not lying in my arms
You say you feel obligated to be there with him
Spare his feelings to obliterate mine

In trading that broken home for ours
Too blind to see the harm
You overlooked my witty charm
Favoring his dim-witted presence
Out the door into his arms
There you go

We can settle down and say ‘I do’
We’ll get back to being me and you
You’ll stop treating me like you do
And someday you will choose
Making me pay my dues
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Dreams of ‘Happy Ever After’
I’m taunted by the burdens I choose
And wallowing in broken dreams

Inside your wicked lies
A sense of longing derives
To where our memories lie
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
While my child grows inside
Strumming your fingers across the wall
I imagine you on the other side
And intrinsic insanity leads me on

It rips my heart through and through
Tormented by this endless pursuit
Separating me and you
At night I lay against the wall
Our apartment split in two
By a life-altering war raging on

My love was thrown in the trash
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
For my cruel and heartless past
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
A love that was never destined to last
Fate led my heart here

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Pa

Had a dream about my Pa tonight, We all went out with them to Lake Loral Nancy His wife cooking up a good ol' Chicken Pot Stew slow-cooked set way up high atop the hickory us loading up the Bayliner for our afternoon fishing trip. We reminisced, Canoe in toe as we used to do just in case, yes just as we did back then; you-know if either would wished to float to one or more sides with the Canoe tied to the railings of the boat, or more or less to widen the chance at a greater spot to cast a gander upon our luck... . My Father by adoption; having-stated many times early on in-all of our teenier all together, God being-in-charge of all good-Blessings and if-you will--luck... we'll always catch some albeit one Yes I began to see through this statement he mentioned often God is always presenting always providing this-His Honest Hope, for us both--as I believe like my Pa, for any one yes everyone who is patient remains-open... ! Our woes, and Peace abiding... uncertainty grievances questions yes laughter were our main recollections as we dropped our first lines as we cast them... . I tell you I truly did love Him, still love Him, will always I figure... yes I know Some folk are so defined never wish to grow any further their Character divorced by Cancer, Nary did my Father allow it. On the day he passed He told Nancy, "I love my life. My Family Children. Love all those close to me.... but I'm tiered just plain wore out." the Lord took Him that night, the next day forthcoming I was told and O how I cried — But then realized as I saw he lived the greater life - He worked on this purpose until the day he died, and so for all he work for this final reprieve — it was for all of the ones he loved, because I feel for all whom he loved, he'd prayed for all to do the same... Yes a suffering in kind the same I'm seeing now - All-of-it I'm-finding; because he taught me the greater of his Faith nary a day apart from Him, and me... his youngest Son two Others older Sons if you will, yes I feel his family and friends still have this eminent belief to boast; Yes, in-the Company--Comfort... of Jesus' Peace... !

Details | Prose Poetry | |


things don't go well
fine a news sell
that ring your bell
don't die in hell
better life seek
don't be weak

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Suppression of Suicide

I sat there,
"My God, I can't take another day"
my mind cried;
 My heart was so cold and black...

"Look at yourself", 
I looked in the mirror... 

"You have turned into a Monster, 
you are no longer living,
You are a zombie."..

"You love him so much, 
but look at what is happening"...
Life isn't worth living...

This is not love, 
this is not what I want out of Life, 
This is Madness...  

"Does he really love you?"...

Yes, he does---
I don't know...
He doesn't stop me from the things I do... 

All I know is I really love him...
I want to Die!!!
But what would he do?..
What would he feel, 
if he found me dead here?..
I wrote this little note 11-14-1996 that night:  
Telling him I love him and will always love him... 

I don't want to die and hurt him, 
if I killed myself, 
"Then it would hurt him!".. 

I wished he really believed me... 
I wish this nightmare would go away... 
Why can't he accept the fact that I'll never leave him?.. 
How do I know he'll stay?..

I know how he feels, 
I know why he feels the way he does about me... 
I feel the same... 

Why am I repeating 
this stupid feeling of rejection?.. 
Why, do I care if he leaves me or not?.. 

I got a nice spot to be buried, somewhere..

I know the other side is much better... 
I'll get a new body, another life... 
I don't want to die unloved... 
I don't want to die alone... 
I don't want to hurt someone I love... 

Maybe he'll join me, 
maybe he won't... 

Whatever he chooses, 
I'll never stop loving him... 
I'll wait for him forever... 

He'll blame himself if I die... 
But it's not his fault... 

I should of spoken up... 
We both should of been more open... 
We should of communicated more... 
I don't know?..

I guess we were really scared of one another!!!
"Feelings of Death" 11-14-1996

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Still Can't Die

It doesn't matter if it's dark or, light My life has become a loveless tale, I'm that ship on that lonely sea Where all the things are Dyeing and pale. Thoughts running Through my heart About all my fallen tears Can you imagine my pain ? It's terrible and making me weak Day by day, each moment. Your lie hunts me like a demon Alone in this darkness. I believe you, love you But you continued your lie, Hopes are gone and flew away But I still can't die.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I simply must say I want to share my work of art
 But nobody will read this, as if we fell apart
 For once I left my denial
 Making a couple of people smile 
I reached out to you but you rejected me
 Why does this have to be
 Help me, No I'm wrong
 Basically I got screwed off and sung the blues song
 stay away from me
 Then now everybody wants to see
 trapped in confusion 
I know it's not a delusion 
What choice do I learn
 if you simply don't earn
 I'm on the road to stay
 leaving me with nothingness to say

Details | Prose Poetry | |


see the sign
its the time
to your self
if know one els
be kind

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Young Bird

Young bird,
just learning to fly.
Young bird,
never has cried.
Young bird,
has never known the truth.
Young bird,
I'll remember, the innocent youth.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Empty Bottle, Empty Soul

There is nothing worse than staring at an empty bottle, 
Figuring out there it has more substance than your moral values.
Nothing more than the all-encompassing emptiness: 
The deafening silence

Peering through the veil of ignorance, Unknowing of even who you are;
Not that anyone will notice you,
Much less remember.

As you crawl upon this earth,
And shrink back inside.
The shroud surrounding you
Covers all to see.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Depression

Dark Depression 
Suicidal Thoughts
William L. Moore

Let go of all the strife
Just snuff out my life
Make a strong fist
And Slit my Wrist

Make me cry
Hope to die
Call to get help
Only to Yelp

I can not stall
Just end it all
Would anyone care? 
If only I dare

Would someone come by?
To check, to say goodbye
No one would crave
The stink that would Rave

This was written when the whole world was falling down around me.  When life was not 
important any more.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Let go

ringing ears and dead brain
helpless, shattered, nirvana
living in denial
shallow empty & void
past paused since ages ago
stranded alone... never to let go

dissolve dissect disinfect
reality reason & retrospect
despair in vogue
ticking time standing still
future ahead but miles to go
just got there but have to let go

bunnies scampering in the rabbit hole
Alice refuses to go on a roll
Rapunzel got no hair to let down
Cinderella's left without an evening gown
future paused & present was a while ago
escaped in the darkness never intended to let go

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sometimes I Ponder page 1


I seen myself, torn away... 
I knew, this was going to kill us both... 
For we seen each other as, 
someone else... 

We thought the same, 
we shared the same feelings,
and pain... 

Two broken hearts, 
two souls, 

"Why should I Love?.. 
For this is more pain... 

I'm afraid... 
I don't want to hurt, no more...

I'm tired of looking and now,
I've done it again... 
I've fallen in love... 

How can I be so stupid... 
I guess, I'm just looking forward, 
to a broken heart... 

Torment and Pain... 
Two minds possessing these thoughts... 
I don't want to live in pain... 
I deserve a chance... 

I've proven--
well I tried to prove everything... 
But it seemed to be so hard,
to Prove my Love... 

Is it the hardest task to prove?.. 

So stupid to think about, 
Why did so many do me wrong,
what did i do??. 

How do I know, how can I be sure, 
that this won't happen again??. 

Is there really someone out there,
that understands??  
Is there someone out there that actually feels, 
the way I do??  

Is there someone out there for me??

The worlds against me, 
everyone is out to get me... 
I wasn't meant to be happy... 
I was told I was evil... 

I was told, nobody would ever put up with me... 

I was always different 
and hard to understand... 

I never harmed anyone, 
never meant to, if I did...
But it always seemed that I did... 

But how?..  
I never done anything wrong... 

But I was accused constantly, 
over and over...
I was the cause of some mishap....

But how?.. 
I wasn't even around, 
even near any mistake made... 

But it turned out to be,
my fault... 
I was easily accused... 
I took the blame, 
to avoid a big controversy... 

I was always wrong...
Everything I did, everything I said,
and every thought in my head was wrong... 

"You're not thinking right... 

Evil thoughts, 
you speak of evilness...
You corrupt, 
You torment... 
You destroy 
and ruin every-ones lives... 

Bad luck, misfortune..". 

Nothing I've done was good enough...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life is like a Waterfall

My life is as the waterfall 
No matter the effort I put forth
I continue to fall into the canyon

With strength of hope and prayers 
I climb against forces with  my head raise to the heavens
As water gushes over the mountain top

Determined not to give out or accept failure
I dug my toes deep into crevices on the mountainside 
Grasping for breathe as I'm hit in the face by the cold water

My mouth is open taking advantage of fresh air
My eyes are blurred by water and mist as in summertime
And crusted over by frost as in fall season

Chilly springtime spawning tornadoes and windstorms
Ice sickles hanging from trees and power lines
I die a little inside again as life is being renewed all around me

Life will go on and I will be forgotten like the ancient dead
Having failed both my classes, losing joy for my studies
What will I do now, I can't go to school for the first since two thousand four

I'm sure I'll be suspended for a year, trying to study breaking free of my cocoon 
With just a year left to graduate pending my Associates Degree 
I'll have to wait it out all alone this spring and summer semesters, humiliated 

I have the heavy of the world on my face since I'm told I look like hubby's mother
After carrying a smile on my face like the sunshine, everyday 
Just to hide the night having no stars or moon in my heart, I rain tears of blood inside

Details | Prose Poetry | |


no matter  if he try
he will be denie
cause he is a lie
some day will die
he won't controll
and very bold
to mkae sin

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bar Scene

Cold hearts sway to timid tones.
We hum hard; hoping to rattle the 
grit out of our mouths.
Sand blasted teeth resonate youthful
denial, torturing revelation’s bargain.
No cheap tricks. No sunshine,
we’re all gone.
Too drunk on pain,
to find hope in the rainfall of liquor 
in this dusty scene.
Too many empty bottles chugging
on air; the last breaths of my generation.
A swirling vortex of broken condoms
and vomited promises dance in neon 
light behind the bar, threatening to dive
into the mouth of the next patron that 
calls to the bartender.
A violent eyed harlot with dollars
bursting out of her bra.
She serves death with a smile,
gyrating her hips to a beat
…that never dances.
She just throws ice into
our blood and glances at 
the tip jar..
Knowing we’ll pay our own
way to hell.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Needs You Now

You have fought for your country
You have heard the calls of death
And felt the loss of blood
And now, no one hears or cares
About the tears you cry
You fought a fools war
Inspired by heroic deeds
Majestic words of honor and fame
From people who never knew your name
Many were those who fled
And endured behind their protest signs
But you, you fought the war
Lost your limbs and gained insight into reality
It was you who came back less than human
And now you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
Tell me, tell me who needs you now
Where are the people
Who gave you hell
Where are the people
Who cried to bring you home
Who marched for your life
While you marched to your death
Where are the people
Who loved you when it was the thing to do
And fought for your cause
While you wondered what it was
As you watched your buddies fade away
Heroes and medals
Tell me, what does it all mean
Now that you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
And tell me, tell me, who needs you now
Now that our memory fades
Of those who served and the reasons why
All we seem to do
Is stand aside and watch them die
And tell me Brothers
Who needs you now?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i fell deep
you knock me off my feet
for you am so weak
my minds  is in motion
for you tooi 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Psalm 34:19 NLT
The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.

There is a constant suffering in someones life. An affliction is a source of constant suffering. 
It could be a number of things such as poverty, sickness, or anxiety. Many people who suffer 
these afflictions believe that no one understands them, but they are mistaken, God does 
understand. He is always here for us, to show us the way out of bad situations. 

Many people ask the question of why God does not end suffering. God is able to do anything 
you ask of Him. God does not bring the trouble to you, but at times He will give you an 
affliction to experience or a time to walk through it, only for reasons that is olnly known to 
God. I think it is because He uses these reasons to draw you nearer to Him, or to make you 
stronger, or to have you become more stronger and secure in your faith. Trust God and He 
will lead you out of your troubles. He is the light.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

my unique

Your love is like a fire
 it keeps me warm inside 
Your kiss is worth a million dollars
 Fills me up with everything I need
 Your like a soulmate 
Never needing anyone else
 The words you speak to me
 Sorround me with butterflies
 The smile you show
 Lavishes my world with comfort
 There is No love in the world like ours..
 forever my unique

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man 27

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

It will be soon midsummer of a fleeting year,
The sward will be brown, flowers faint and few,
Songbirds are hushed all but a faint but clear song
And 'larum of the bird-boy reach the ear,
Through the warm air floats forth lime's sweet scent,
And wayside branches have lost the rose's bloom.
The corn is golden along a thousand sea like slopes,
All crisply rustling to a living breeze, and dancing.
And among the billowy sound of summer trees,
I wander, pondering on departed hopes, people I have lost,
Pleasant lives departed, taken far too soon.
I walk alone, and will forever for I am so very lonely,
What of those blessed affections have I found and lost,
As we grow life should ripen like its summer corn.
Which has from my feeble weakened grip been torn,
Of all the love with which young life was crowned?
Hearts, which if I would seek, I would not know where to look,
I only know where to find their graves, they have long been there.
These lives fell away like leaves when life was too new,
Stabbed by grief to which the fairest clings, to hopes for,
I have lived on through many springs, hope always lets me down
No greenness or happiness follows where those first buds died,
Still glows the heart, but it glows without the power of love,
Her image is with me daily, straight from her good heart,
Of joys, proud thoughts, sweet sympathies now we are apart,
Which I drink in like one who thirst cannot be quenched,
Fearless that her, like no man's weak faith should fall,
Her face should darken, or her pleasures are small.
Yet, why should I be sad? For I have found,
One true companion, one dear, dead soul is mine,
Who talks in my mind and does sooth, amuse, refine,
And on my heart, one day, will be a cheerful sound,
Of light footsteps in my ears, that I have been found,
Even today in my hopes and joys I remember my happier years.
Then though the false depart, and the weak descend,
Through lights which seemed immortal will cease to burn,
My bitter tears of mourning will put out the light,
Life's sorest sight, life’s work, life’s love without end.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

to The Public

Not really a poem, but the truth of my being.

To the Public
June 28, 2011

When I write the words just flow. I get an inspiration or a thought and have to write it down. 
Why, I do not know.  They just flow and all follow a story.  I write my innermost thoughts with 
the deepest passion imaginable and all are TRUE life experiences which have occurred in my life. 
I am diagnosed Severe Bipolar Disorder and disabled and draw SSDI. I no longer have to work 
from over 40 yrs in Maintenance and 2 degrees in Electronics and Electrical maintenance. I do 
draw disability now for over 2 yrs time and depression is a daily bout which I face every day, 
but try to be positive. The medicine I take is for my head and helps with mood swings and 
depression. As to date, I cannot read many of my works as I Bawl like a baby at most of 
them.  I remember when and how I felt when I wrote them.  But all of them follow a story to 
the end.  I cannot recite a single one because once written they are gone, otherwise they eat 
my Brain.  I am crying now as I write this and divulge my deepest thoughts and experiences of 
my life. I feel better now that it is gone from my head folks.  When a situation arises, I just 
know which ones will deserve recognition to be told.  I suffer from arthritis on my left side, my 
hands hurt all the time, and I practice herbal medicine for the pain.  I create my own remedies 
from my herbologist named Daryl Collins here in Okmulgee, he gives me the herbs and I am 
the guinea pig first and foremost for the experience.  Anyone else who suffers from this can 
contact me at  I am willing to tell you the recipe for my
Creations.  I hope all appreciate this testimony of mine.  All I say is true to fact.
							William Lewis Moore
							June 28, 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Hey buddy your such the best
 Oh my God he or she is such a pest
 ah ha wow u are so funny I love you 
err ****ing annoying twerp, I hate you
 Don't worry I am here for you whenever you need to vent
 What a total loser he or she needs to go get bent
 You look really good 
That is the ugliest hood
 I would never lie to you or do anything to hurt you behind your back 
Shh..don't tell her or him I did this I don't want them to get up and pack
 I'm cool, I'm an idol, I'm everything you'll ever need
 just Give me your heart you'll never be lost and why, because I'm FAKE

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Adulteress's missing thread

missing threads
She looks outside. The pale moonlight has fallen across the tributary, illusory moonshine,
like an intimate emission, now that the urgency is gone, meaningless. 
She looks inside. The sprawled bed sheet of flesh shines in luminous darkness which she
thinks she is. 
Remember the worth and compare with leaving behind the cords, one son and a lethargic
clergy who divides his self between interpreting the God and being her husband. 
She remembers the cats, the weekend cooking classes and small garden of oriental roses.
The pale moon is always hiding behind the clouds when you need it. The clarity is a burnt
out butt of the cigarette learning to jump overboard. She waves away the smoke. She looks,
once more, inside and outside.  
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Untitled 20

I sit at the window and just stare at the jagged trees,
                their branches jutting out like anorexic bones.
The bars of rigid light explode in the empty room,
                draping me in a dark shade of gold, the colour of yellow intestines;
it’s nicotine arms reach in and strangle me in my empty room.
                I’ve been taught to ignore my reflection but absorb the landscape,
I’m now an unnatural shade of green as it’s swallowed up my insides.
                They’ve taken away the knives. It’s too easy to slit your throat.
The doctor comes to heal, or whatever it is he calls it;
                he bandages and plasters over my open wounds
so now they’ve stop staining my dresses.
                They’ve taken away the edges, no corners in the room at all,
and the walls are as soft as babies born with straight limbs.
                The clock’s toothless grin widens and I have all the time in the world.

Some say I’ve been fixed, I’m back to their normal.
                I’m not so sure. They can fix my body, the limbs can be nailed 
together and stuck with their glue, but my mind has died.
                I can feel it rotting, dripping from the ears, the smell fouling the air 
like road kill. The soft carcass houses maggots that crawl out at night.
                My hair has faded to the colour of dead leaves,
when I creep around the room, which is very frowned upon,
                I can feel it rustle like a ball gown being dragged along rock.
I yearn for the changes that I see through the window,
                I want to be the white moon that peeks through the fingers of trees,
I used to see that whiteness in my eyes, but that is also frowned upon. 
                The pot plants can’t survive here either, the air is too thick for their gills. 
I’m sure I’m dying, but whilst peeking at my chart, I’ve seen them tick the box labelled 
                ‘healthy’ even though I know I’ll never leave this sick room alive.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


unhappy with the reflection
mirror a double edged weapon
wielded with an arm of hate
disappointment cuts like a blade
curse that mirror
she stabs in my heart
not me
that's not me
image reflecting is not mine
her mistakes are her own
bless this child
i must
must protect this life
growing within
her mistakes are her own

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man 14

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

The invisible man goes behind the stores looking for some food, by then he has
had enough the bitterness and hate. He thinks if he has happy thoughts he will be happy.

It seems its always a warm spring day when I walk with you down my memory lane,
I remember always holding hands with you as we smile and walk down there again,
The sun is shining brightly with flowers budding along the pathways of the past,
Pointing out little birds and beautiful wild flowers are my memories that last,
No clouds dare to mar the sun's watery glow, which melts into skies of soft blue,
No shadows would dare to mask the sun when I'm walking back in time with you,
From those long ago golden times I remember only happiness and never any tears,
Those were the most beautiful days of my life, the sweetest of all my many years,
For a short while I forget my loneliness the dreadful loss the hurting and the pain,
It’s always spring and happiness when we hold hands skipping down old memory lane.

Thinking of the past makes him so very sad, sadness that comes from deep within,
A wrenching passion that makes him lower his head into his coat to hide his warm,
tears that uncontrollably drip from his gaunt cheeks and splash on his ruined shoes.

Nasty bullying men taunting him and pointing out what he already knows that he is a
cancer on society that he stinks worse than the garbage he rummages through and would
better off dead.He shuffles past these people and leans on a wall Invisible sobs loudly he can't stop.
All the pain and constant sadness is too much so he goes to a supermarket and buys some,
cheap booze to ease the pain. He queues with his bottle of cheap vodka his face still wet
with tears. Everyone moves from his queue to another one Invisible cannot get out of the
shop quick enough. He sits on a bench in the shopping center and begins to drink.
The more he drinks the quieter the taunts are. Darkness hides him in neon light his sadness
is now bearable.He sits with his bottle between his legs and just stares at the floor and
as the booze disappears so does Invisible.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


He sits alone
Quarintened in illness
Not disease of the flesh
But virus of the mind
Does not understand why
He is treated like something so vile 
All he knows is
This treatment makes him cry
No one speaks
No one listens
Just leave quickly
Before they can catch the illness
Stupidity and ignorance
At its finest
Pushing him away
Pushing, Pushing
Pushing him over the edge
Crying everyday
Crying, Crying
So sick of crying
Dying, alone and crying
So sick of trying
Dying, dying
Inside and out - He's dying
Are you happy now?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A shadow on the wall,
my imagination,
or something real?
A flicker in the candlelight,
a demon,
or angel?
You've so confused me with wrong and right,
I can no longer discern the light and the dark,
You've upended my world.
Your touch is a damnable thing,
feather light on my cheek. 
How you make me hate myself,
for embraces in the dark.
My skin still stinks of you,
your sweat and love.
As you stand at the foot of my bed, 
I can imagine your slim form with wings,
spread in your triumph over me.
If only I could take your feathers away,
my angel, 
my demon,
perhaps you would stay away,
no longer able to fly into my life,
corrupting my dreams.
Maybe when daylight breaks,
I will be able to see the color of your wings.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sitting Situations

You mustn’t show weakness
and you’ve got to have a certain shade about you.
But sometimes I feel like the thin led
of a mechanical pencil that breaks
when sitting, writing a letter
to the one you love
Rather than just another love letter.

You mustn’t show weakness
and you’ve got to make a list.
While sitting, think of all the
things you can load
in a car without any people.

This is the way things stand now:
If I pull out the stopper
after pampering myself in the bath,
I’m afraid that all of the city, and with it the whole world,
will drain out into the huge darkness.

I’m stranded on some ocean-locked island
No strength to swim yet,
so I must work and build muscle.
In the daytime I lay traps for my memories
and at night I wait while sitting
in the Hawaiian palm trees of my sheets,
turning curse into blessing and blessing into curse.

And don’t ever show weakness.
Sometimes I come crashing down inside myself
without anyone noticing. I’m like an ambulance
on two legs, hauling the patient sitting
inside me to the emergency room
with the wailing of cry of a siren,
and people think it’s ordinary speech.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



In Loving Memory


Love & Friendship

BORN 11, 2009 - DIED 11, 10, 2010
From A Long Period Of Indifference .

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She hurry's through the darkened door
Alone in the hall, she begs for more
Fast up the stairs, black and old
Wondering where the light will unfold
The rooms fall beneath her, crumbling as one
Instantly, the house is undone
As white noise sings to the sunless structure
She holds her heart, and feels it rupture

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Too Much Love

Too Much Love
June 29, 2011

Too much love
Sent to me from heaven above
Why would they want me
Shall it ever be
I have finally found her
She will soon be here
Her name is Cindy
My heart goes windy
We were meant for fate
But was never out of hate
I may repeat
But never from defeat
We will always be
Just her and me
She has made me be
So totally free
People will see us
Amazement in their eyes
Of the love that we share
Yes, We shall dare
We shall begin
From now until the end

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Enoch Dreams

“Exile on Main Street”
Is what we'll call it.
It hurts to say
But I want you to stay,
They took our city,
Your dreams,
And my Enoch dreams as well.
Alone we stand and 
Together we'll fall apart,
Like my Enoch dreams.
The rivers run red
And our hearts run blue,
The city….
They took the cities too.
Its Enoch dreams. 
They asked me
“Who are you?”
But they don't care;
So we'll dance all night,
Dance ‘till day,
Like in our Enoch dreams.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you call it weaked
its a seeded
that grow
you smoke
well you know
its no joke

Details | Prose Poetry | |

May Soon Be

Used to drive by in my car
Shake my head, look the other way
Used to think get a job
And get off the street
And now, it’s a place
I may soon be
Used to walk on by
Or cross to the other side
Thinking they had no pride
Now it’s a place
I may soon be
Heard all the stories
Of rich men falling
Being lost and forgotten
Now it’s a place
I may soon be
Used to scoff at their college education
The thought they ever had a mansion
Business suits and cars
Now it’s a place
I may soon be
I’m not there yet
But I can see it near
I see those storm clouds
Searching for me
I can see my efforts
Being for naught
And soon being caught
I can see losing the choice
Of what to keep
Being in far too deep
And looking through the car window
From the other side
Funny how perspective changes
Depending on where you stand
How quickly you begin to understand
When it’s a place
You may soon be

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Because she still clung to his promises

The girl was legend

All empty eyes & purple painted smiles. Every sweet white inch of her. And everyone knew 
her name

She danced in satin skirts that only moved when she took them off. She was everything 
delicate, everything demure. She was beautiful even when she wasnt

She watched the world with terror filled saucer eyes & the world looked right back with eyes 
that were unmistakably green

It was clear glass, they envied her & she wondered why

She knew they hung up her picture, plastered her to walls&books&frames that made her 
their prisoner. They stared at her when they were alone & forged a kind of intimacy she 
could thrive on

But it was temporary & in the morning she was left to sing her own self to sleep since no one 
cared enough to do it for her

The people that loved her, that glimpsed the real her when she uncovered it, all those people 
left her at the end & she saw what they'd done

They'd led her down the wrong track but they peppered it with glitter & held her just right so 
she was blind to every bit of it

She was the diamond dying in the night, she was the candied rose melting in the morning 
dew. They lured her with promises of love & took her innocence before she even knew it was 

She hated them but started to love them almost obsessively. The love hate became another 
prison & she thought she was free because she always got nine seconds of pleasure before 
the sun rose

Back bars catered to her kind & she walked in just to stand there & let their hands go places 
she'd never gone herself. It felt like the past & she convinced herself it was right

One night she walked in, skirt past the legal limit & eyes bright like they used to be. It was a 
shock-making moment, she hadnt looked so sweet in oh so many years & they were afraid 
to touch her

She'd been their girl forever, passed around & used like an old movie that cant be rewound. 
They knew every mark on her body, every scar where they signed her, a kind of "I was 
here" of the human body. They couldnt recognize her. It was the first time she walked out 
alone. Faintly she hoped to be pressed against a wall & killed but it didnt happen

She kept turning around haunted by phantom-feels & ghost-touches. Her body just wanted to 
suffer. It was instinct & who was she to fight it?

Every step was agony. She walked so carefully as though she was afraid of falling in a river 
of her own dark thoughts

But it was hopeless, darkness followed her wherever she went

Details | Prose Poetry | |

in the secret eyes

looking into your eyes
 I see the skys
 The darkness fading
 but the hope shading
 hearing the wind whispering words
 I see the demonic herds
 the evil swallowing our fate
 it is not destined to be late 
just gazing up at you
 I realize what God wants us to do
 the world lies in our hands
 we must bring out the bands
 rise to the people to have faith in life
 thou shall not strife
 here's the message we'll send
 the world will not end

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Looking Forward

The higher I go;
The lower I’ll sink.

The one thing I desire
Is the one that destroys me.

The closer to the end,
The more devastating the failure seems.

When there is much to say,
The only answer is silence.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man Returns 2 21

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

Back to the place where I raised walking the streets of my old hometown nothing changes,
Having been walking for days and days the shoes I found have just starting falling apart,
My toes poke out from a big hole in the front and my blistered feet are freezing cold,
It's funny sometimes how things seem to start to give up just like my broken old heart.
As usual the cold bites through my torn clothes then the wind whips up and blows my hair,
It needs a good wash the grease lets me flatten it to my head and it's grey wavy and long,
But now the wind has changed walking becomes easier I'm glad the wind is behind me now,
This time the wind can blow in the same direction as me so now it can help push me along.
Someone is walking towards me better duck my head it's an old friend that I once knew well,
But there was no need to duck as he crosses over disgusted and he gives me plenty of space,
I can recognise him, all he sees is a pathetic tramp an old man pissed and down on his luck,
Even from the other side of the road he looks sideways just so can't bare to look in my face.

Invisible goes back and sits on a bench, hurt, confused, at a loss. To try and take this from his mind he thinks of nice things.

When I was a young boy the there were scented breezes I enjoyed each new day the sun always shone,
When you had friends you could play games and talk, laugh run through grass that was ever so long,
Children full of stories mostly untrue, had a unique personality each of my friends I will never forget,
But age creeps in and things change lifestyles change losing innocence is the thing I really do regret,
I dream and take myself back, back to the days when cowboys and Indians chased each other all day
Back to the days that were warm and long and we got bored we had holes in our trousers and shirts,
Sometimes when I concentrate really hard and really long I can see myself playing or standing there,
Covered in newly mowed fields with straw and grass running shouting and the wind in my long hair,
And as I take myself back I can see my friends faces running and playing football as clear as today,
What has happened to my happy life where has it gone tell me, "Why does our youth get taken away?"

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Arms In Which To Hide

Always surrounded by people
Yet I always feel so lonely
The lady let escape
From her lips
As the feeling poured
From eyes so beautiful
They always draw a crowd
So many people talking
As she screams out loud
No one can hear
For none will listen
There only for the laughter
And to share her touch
To drink in what they see
Not to look inside
All the fun of the moment
Tends to fade when days grow long
When all you need is a place to hide
But truth reveals no arms to hold
Just boasts with new stories told
So she tries to ignore
How alone she is
Hoping no one sees
What she really feels
Yet in all the photographs to attract
I see in each one exposed
The lonely hurt of a girl
Hoping someone will seek to look
Beyond what a picture shows
To discover what
Her true heart knows
And not seek to boast
But give her arms
In which to hide

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Pizza boxes line the floor and litter my recent calls,
I don’t know the time of day or the last time I ventured outdoors.
Lost in my own worthless abyss, drowning in my thoughts,
Look at this mess you’ve caused.

I’ve watched so much TV that my eyes literally feel square,
So detached from reality, I question if I truly care.
I haven’t brushed my teeth for a week or so much as styled my hair,
Instead I’ve sat cursing God for ignoring my prayers.

I look at my ‘friends’ and try to broach the subject, knowing this effort’s in vain.
I talk from the depths of my heart, uttering unspoken truths, revealing the weight of my pain.
And I look to their faces, try to fix their gaze, but I know they have nothing to say.
So I wallow in self pity, shutting out the world, resisting the urge to escape.

I reach to you in desperation, in a plea for an alternative resolution.
The nastiness I provoke plunges me deeper in confusion:
You tell me to get on with my life, that my love is a delusion.
I no longer know what I’m doing.

I take an open-top bus ride around the place I call home
And don’t even recognise the ‘places of interest’ I’m shown.
I’m oblivious to the tour guide and his incessant drone – 
I spend my journey looking expectantly at my phone.

Burdened by the weight, of the misdemeanours and mistakes
That took me to this place, through a pointless, perpetual chase;
Engulfed by the bitter taste, of the agony I must embrace,
I spread my wings wide and escape.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blood, again

blood again 
The two hovering faces are white and brown.
They seem to look nice, saying, “we’re in your side.”
She aches; both her sides ache; bruises, clotted blood; 
She sees them, two men with the force; denies to complain.
The trust has been lying killed, somewhere in her den.

Discharge means returning home, to the fear’s room, 
where he may return for tearing her more.
But she won’t dial for force, at least not before 
she has put six inanimate hates into him;
not before she has seen blood once again, not hers. 
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

Details | Prose Poetry | |

the games of our mouths are but forest darkness.

Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers.

The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells,

Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed.

This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles.

I Want them Back.

I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists, 

To be There Forever.

I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily 

Slip out of your Lips,

To Be memorized by these Walls

And Repeated to me. Over. 

And over.


Death is in the Folding of Sheets.


The Idea that Happiness

Is Simply the Prayer 

that Tomorrow Never Comes.


I Don’t Want to Accept That.


Tomorrows been coming just the Same.


Where is my Measureless Night?

Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes….

How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give,

To have you Back.

You had eyes 

That no one could look at without Dying.

But this After…

Has become a Never-After,

And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze…

Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above…

No Green. No Blue.

Just You.

And You.

And You…

Into the Shelter of the Months I fly.

I Wanted the Impossible…

And Somehow… everything… has become It.

Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak, 

All of it, Is beyond Me.

You are out Of Reach

And Apparently 

So is Life.

From substance to substance, water to water,

Love to Love,

I Died into You.

And as much as I’d like to regret It. 

I Can’t.

That Is why 

You are Endless,

So Please… Gather me up 

As If you Were.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the games of our mouths are but forest darkness.

Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers.

The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells,

Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed.

This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles.

I Want them Back.

I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists, 

To be There Forever.

I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily 

Slip out of your Lips,

To Be memorized by these Walls

And Repeated to me. Over. 

And over.


Death is in the Folding of Sheets.


The Idea that Happiness

Is Simply the Prayer 

that Tomorrow Never Comes.


I Don’t Want to Accept That.


Tomorrows been coming just the Same.


Where is my Measureless Night?

Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes….

How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give,

To have you Back.

You had eyes 

That no one could look at without Dying.

But this After…

Has become a Never-After,

And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze…

Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above…

No Green. No Blue.

Just You.

And You.

And You…

Into the Shelter of the Months I fly.

I Wanted the Impossible…

And Somehow… everything… has become It.

Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak, 

All of it, Is beyond Me.

You are out Of Reach

And Apparently 

So is Life.

From substance to substance, water to water,

Love to Love,

I Died into You.

And as much as I’d like to regret It. 

I Can’t.

That Is why 

You are Endless,

So Please… Gather me up 

As If you Were.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Best friends forever

Best friends forever
 Written 10-13-05 Edited 9-1-07
The fire burned brightly 
While we ran through the woods away...away...from the flames 
Faster and Faster 
We ducked behind the bushes 
As the fire trucks arrived
 we laughed and giggled 
watching the torment 
After that day we vowed to be there for each other
 Best friends...forever
 days went by slowly
 Laughter and excitement each time 
until the dreadful day
 When my mother found out 
Restraining order... 
But that could not stop us
 For we friends...forever
 Trouble began to sink in 
The fun we had 
Got caught again 
But did not stop us again
 For we friends...forever 
Another restraining order slapped us in the face But this time it was worse 
That was the day I lost my best friend

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hurt again

Hurt again
 Written 10-12-05 Edited 3-4-07
I walk alone in the dusk
 Filled of hatred and depression 
I'm injured, bleeding from the gashes
 My heart is slashed
 Pieces cannot be located 
Life has defeated the purpose of living 
No longer happiness 
Useless feelings all around 
No faith to follow 
No love to find
 Aggravation inside myself 
Knocked out 
I awaken and become raw from the pain 
Hurt me again

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Runaway ambition

Runaway ambition 
Written 5-10-07 Edited 8-22-07
I wake up early morning 
Hoping the rain is pouring 
I glance out the house door
 Everyday there's someone out there poor 
I gather up my things 
There is definitely a place to be by the swings 
I think about the future around me Maybe I can find something meant to be 
I pray for everyone to understand it 
Someone will figure it out just a bit 
My feet touch the wet ground
 Anyone could think I will never be found
 The tears run down my cheek
 Guessing no one will find time to seek I walk reluctantly down the street 
Maybe someone new I can meet
 The cool air blows on my skin 
Only god knows about my terrible sin
 Blood in my veins rush by fast
 Just look forward, forget the past 
I lay at rest beneath the rooftop from the rain
 People who knew me, I caused them pain
 I'm sorry dear family
 Forgive me my loved friends
 You do not realize What I feel like 
Deep thoughts run through my head 
I miss my own bed 
It's not the same life anymore 
No one to cuddle with when I'm sore 
Life on the street

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Prose Mine Prys

‘At play with words’

Cork thine eyes 
Cloaking lucent verbose halls 
Surely binding shutting tight 

Cork thine eyes 
Clutching goblet sipping falls 
Drunk seduction bending sight 

Prose mine prys 
Gather up my scrolling drawls 
Paging through the spite 

Prose mine prys 
Splitting metaphors with mauls 
Swindle word codle the blight 

This poem explained

Shut your eyes 
Shade your bright and wordy thoughts 
Absolutely shut off your mind 

Shut your eyes 
Drink from the fountain of lies of the rich 
Allow yourself to be seduced and become blind 

My ordinary words chip away 
Read what I have written 
They are memorable moments of contempt 

My ordinary words chip away 
I chop up what I write with metaphors 
The negative meanings of what I write deceives with tenderness


Details | Prose Poetry | |


April 18, 2011

Waiting on the corner
Should we warn her
Of the approaching danger
Like a silent still ranger
She has been caught as a snitch
Out comes the evil, mean witch
We may to her have to slice
Into little pieces we love to dice
With a rock to her neck she will sink
After a while she will begin to stink
And no one will ever know
For through time she will never show
This is a terrible place
 Which has fallen from all of God’s grace 
We hope we may
Live through the day
And hope to always stay
To live another day

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Written 11-2-05 Edited 5-10-07
What does it occur to be free?
 Are you equipped to swoop beyond the sea? 
Is it cheerful? 
Or does it prevail you fearful?
 Can your spirit be unrestricted?
 And your heart not be evicted? 
Can you stand alongside the ocean?
 The honor to carry the notion? 
Do you occasionally wonder?
 Why there's endless thunder?
 Is it due to the rain? 
Or doubtless from the pain?
 What if you're not free?
 Are you predetermind to be? 
Should I die? 
Watch my soul fly?
 Do I proceed to heaven? 
Or do I get damned to hell?
 Does it depend on where my corpse fell?
 Will I ever be free?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


he is the light
day and night
if your in trouble
turn to know other
he can with praying hands
stop thoses who ia againts you too

Details | Prose Poetry | |

left where i lie

left where i lie 
A life on the fringes 
appointed an outcast 
left there to die 
a man without meaning 
left out of gods design 
flesh wrapped bones 
without soul 
without heart 
ripped ravaged flesh 
torn to pieces 
torn apart 
unable to feel 
unable to cry 
peace traded for pain 
soul swapped for sin 
I wither and die 
so just step around 
just walk away 
i just want to be 

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Under the oak tree we lay awake waiting for the coming messiah

Waiting for the good time of his government

We are tormented and suppressed all day long with no cause.

And our body bore our pains

Men of agony, the voiceless.

Trapped in the strange land of misery, 

Hope against hope for the messiah to emerge

Spirit of our ancestors hunt us, 

Because they thirst for blood; 

Of which blood shall we use when cowries for goat could be found? 

Springs ceased in our entries and, the oceans howl in despair to our presence.


The voiceless men, rejected and abandoned

Entangled in the misery of the leaders, 

Echoes of mercy heard in the vacuum and, 

Songs of sorrow sang by the birds in their response to our sufferings

We are cheated with no access to talk and the society hear us not rather they exploit our efforts.

Men of Nkporo became worthless to them.

 What could be our weapon of war? 

We are killed all day long and, our stomach spoke harshly to us.

Our eyes very dime; night and day.

And we succumb to their threats, voiceless men of nkporo.

Born without a silver spoon but wisdom in the head.

Wisdom never used to impart to their offsprings.




 Our egos dashed out with the winds and our wives exploited by the rich.

Our houses taken away with strong will and our children enslaved in the darkness

Who shall speak for us all, the voiced? 

The coming messiah assured us mercy but who knows his coming? 

The animals on the flying chairs laughed at us.

Perhaps, they know the future.

Maybe they have spoken with the messiah against us.


I know, overly thrilled as I was that I would not call. Their works had done more than enough.

In the city, our kinds are seen roaming about in nakedness

Humiliated and battered.

But I wear courage like a shield to speak against discrimination.

As long as there is life, they believed in hope in days to come.

It shall be well.

Can you see how she runs? 

Running to the lion’s den.

What has she done?  Nothing but spoke her mind.

Court holds her guilty, guilty of treachery and outspoken.

It embodied me not to find my voice, but to speak in voice I already had.



We pray for the messiah’s time

Time of peace and freedom, 

When things shall be well again with us

And our kind shall be heard in high voices

Our children shall also be free from the sneer of the Fowler

And our wife shall know their offspring and husbands

 Those who exploit us shall be punished upon their throne.

Mercy shall not prevail because they have tortured us so much.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What should I do

What should I do
 Written 11-2-05 Edited 5-5-07
I love someone special... 
But I don't know what to do
 If I kill myself his heart will turn blue
 I forever will love him
 And by no means overlook him
 My love...I will not mislead
 I intend to decease
 Befall virtuous from agony
 And not break down 
Please bear with me
 I realize no one notices 
how I suffer
 And my heart cannot soothe 
I have no justification to continue or even be valued 
Just recall 
The day I perish 
You will endow
 My spirit is unleashed

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man 26

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

The Invisible Man talks to His Imaginary Friend. The only friend he has.

There have been some dreadful changes, Sam
This place is evil, corrupt and more,
But never was there such changes .Sam,
In any days ever before.
The world's gone mad you can depend on it,
All the old times are upset,
We will soon be in our coffins, Sam
Let’s make the world not forget.
It warm for spring too warm, Sam
Yesterday as I shuffled around the town,
The changes have happened. Sam
All in under thirty years,
Looking around my native town, Sam
I was thinking as I stood,
I looked for reassurance, Sam,
It did not do any good.
So where am I in this place?
Please listen to me Sam,
I looked around and all was strange,
Is this a horrible sham?
So while I've been gone the world has turned,
Our old places are so different today,
You close your eyes for a moment. Sam,
And all of the old things go away.
These men that live on this estate now, Sam,
It seems the dice is cast,
Sam the old times could not come back now,
So it's good bye to the past.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

mosquito and man

Oh no! Why do men hate me so much? From incarnation even as I try to make my legs and hands and buttocks as small as anything! So they can’t say am competing with their colossal legs and hands and their protruding buttocks!
They say; we knew it! Right from the first sight, he was bent on evil with the ulterior motive that, whenever he perches on the sweet succulent, fresh, flesh - of ours, it won’t be noticed. Because he believes men are fools after all, big brains are not found in big bodies.
Men are evil.  As I try to befriend, the more they inflict pains on me. Ok! I feel rejected and dejected by men, I considered it and thought it wise to detach myself from men by living in nearby bushes and rejected dumped waste and refuse.
They say; ah! Mosquito, you always make use of that little sense of yours. It is all pretence; you love men so much that you can’t live without them! Ok, if you say you want detachment, why must it be near men’s homes, or their dumped refuse and liquid waste? Why not very far at the desert so men won’t complain again. You love men! It is even clear as you lay your eggs where you feel you hate.
Men are ignorant. Ungrateful idiots! Their brains are stuffed with manure. Ok! If I hate men, why should I use the talent God gave me to make them comfortable? I use the best musical instrument; harp, flute with my wonderful composing way of singing, just to make them happy yet they detest me. Ok! How many men are musicians? How many even use the talent God gave them? Since God made me a musician from incarnation I will continue to use the talent, no matter how men feel.
Mosquito, Jackson of the age. You sing and even dance for men’s comfort! But the question is, if you love men as such, Why must the benevolent be a sort of boring? Why must it be at odd hours in the night made for resting? Even as we say stop! You still continue your singing. We don’t need it please! Your singing is a discomfort for men.
Ok! What of the affection I show to prove my love? I kiss your flesh and blood, just like any other man does by kissing the tongue and saliva of a female partner for love! Do you appreciate it at all? All I get from you are rancor and malice. Our judgment will be in heaven certainly.
The problem with you (mosquito) is that you don’t accept fault, very controversial and a very big threat to man. That is what you are! Accept your nature. You say you show affection, ok! Have heard of a man who kisses and inflicts pain on the partner? Perhaps by eating up the tongue or ejecting poisonous liquid in the partner’s mouth? But when you kiss, you disfigure our flesh and inject malaria into our bodies. Is that what you call love? We don’t want such affection, just know that; once you come around, we are at alert and always ready to strike! Let the worst happen in your so called heaven.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Angry Man Returns

A man walking down a main street the wind blowing snow onto his face,
A sharp wind gusts down upon him but he walks head down marching on,
He is just a shadow in the winter night but his determination scares,
A thin strong man looks like he would knock anybody down should he cared.

Frost has been the harbinger in these cold winter months snow now visits,
We all look for frost and snows followed by a bitter salute of an east wind,
Most people wrap up in warm clothes but this man rushing along is unusual,
The Auria-Boreas has flashed forth in our nocturnal sky, a warning for all.

This traveler drives himself through the bleak heath with frost in his veins,
The hissing east-wind in his teeth the snow gathers on hard square shoulders,
This man is up to no good as the anger in his sallow cheeks spark purest hate,
As he rushes past others feel the whip of his flapping cloak as he looks ahead.

He crashes open doors at a tavern in the center of the town and orders a double,
It disappears in one swig he slams the glass on the counter and demands another,
Someone looks his way his steel grey eyes catches theirs they stare at the floor,
This man is different from the others, he has no fear he is a soldier, he is home.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Rules, Rules and more Rules
June 12, 2011

Always there are Rules
They treat us like fools
Will we ever win 
Must we always give in
To the way that they live
But we must learn to give
Can we learn to stay
Or will it always be this way
Can we live our life
Free from the bull and the strife
Will it change for me
Shall I ever be free
Should it ever end
Will I know when to begin
Life must go on 
And for this I must be strong
I will not be a pushover
For I know god watches over

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I lay on the cold floor inside the park bathroom 
Knowing I'll face my doom
 The poison is rushing threw my delicate veins
 I hear nothing but the sound as it rains
 the hotness of my body begins to rush
 my skin so pale No flush 
I want to escape the world and be free
 So I left home overdosed having a chance to flee
 Blackness takes over for about a second 
then light comes back I reckoned 
I hear sirens coming my way
 I know the consequences I must pay
 Just another fail to end my life
 Maybe next time I'll use a knife

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Walking outside i begin to wonder..
 why don't birds have toilets in the trees
 Probably would have to pay fees
 Instead they poop on our heads
 While we get mad they nest in their beds
 Some eat out of the trash
 While we are stuck cleaning up their stash
 Stinky birds..
 I curse them with words
 just too busy complaining bout my life being hard
 now there's birds swooping in the yard
 ploop ploop
 Swoop swoop
 Oh wonderful one just pooped

Details | Prose Poetry | |


See me in the sky
 it is i whom you feel when you are hurt
 i make you smile when you notice i look good on you
 Hope i dont make your day pitiful
 but you can watch me in nature's beauty
 Dont fight the fact i am destined for you
 im everywhere and every place
 When your lost or excited 
You know I'll be there
 for I am blue

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life is Cruel

Life is Cruel
April 6, 2011

Always things to face
Will we ever finish the race
Is it meant for me
Or will it ever be
The continuing strife
Always screwing up my life
It seems that I try and try again
But I never know where to begin
The problems that I face
Daily they put me in my place
 I thought of my friends
Will they be there at the end
I wish for their support
Or will I be treated like a dork
I really need them as such 
If they really knew how much
Not saying that I was wrong
With or without them I will be strong

Details | Prose Poetry | |


take it from a friend
don't hold the hurt in
if its tears 
of fears
than let go
let the wind blow
it like the rain
and stop the pain
that why

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Fine Line

I'm walking a fine line,
somewhere between dead and alive,
I'm contently loosing balance,
tripping over my own two feet.
I'm scratched, scared, and bruised.
Will I make it out alive?
Or will I die,
on this destructive path of mine?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Man

I got lost somewhere between hope and reality. I tired with all my might but things never seemed to go right. I had all my dreams ready but they never came true. I planned to achieve numerous goals but I never could. I had the perfect life planned out in my mind but now I feel as if I just wasted my time.  My best efforts never produced any success. Have I been walking through life wasting all of my breaths? Quitting and surrendering is the obvious choice for me now. Do I continue to fight until I have nothing left? Should I just hold my breath and patiently wait for death? Too broken to die and barely alive to continue. I just wish I had a clue to figure out this mystery called life.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Burning lungs and driven minds,
I wouldn’t dare take a step back.
No one would believe me.
No one thought I had it in me.
If they only knew what we were capable of.

Let the crowd gather ‘round,
To see what they cannot deny.
Go ahead and eat the crow,
I am a machine.
If she’s got the fuel, then I’ve got the power.

Is everyone still watching?
Where did that train come from?
What power do I have against a locomotive?
How could I possibly stand up?
Please, everyone, turn your head for just one minute.

Wait, did you all see that?
I made a spark; I was running!
I swear it’s true!  I swear!
Ah ha!  It happened again; surely you saw.
If you had only faced this direction moments before.

Alas, it’s revealed.
I’m not bluffing, and now you know.
Now you can see her skin-carved “A.”
It’s right there in plain sight.
Credibility must bestow itself upon me.

I turn only to find your cosmetics at work.
You’re quick enough to be a beautician.
You’re dangerously quick,
Here I am, blushing red.
My shame is too much to bear; I’ve lost my alibi.

I’m outdated, worn down.
In these circumstances, can you blame me for rusting?
Not a soul has looked on me kindly since the day.
What once was luxury is being sold on a lawn.
Must you take all the fruit from the queen until she bleeds to death?

The back of this closet looks awfully dark.
I can't hear anything from in here.
I haven't a clue where everyone's gone.
I can promise you one thing is true, though:
I'm not broken; I still work.  I swear.  Just plug me in.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

no mercy

I hate you for the lies you told
 You make my heart feel cold
 Growing up you beat me blue
 nobody ever had a clue
 manipulating the abuse to dust
 Accusing my sister of lust
 Everything had to go according to plan
 Convincing the cops to be your fan
 Sickening my mentality to vain
 The only thing you left me was pain
 You hurt me all day and night 
No person to help in sight 
now I only have one thing to start believin 
Your nothing but a cursed demon

Details | Prose Poetry | |

unknown fate

Such a gray world of sorrow
 all the doubts of hope
 If death awaits why try
 We've given up
 we have all lost faith
 When the axis stops spinning 
It's decided to blame
 If there is No love..
 Then we'll all hate
 Following the leaders of chaos
 Tracking down the weak
 let's act like savage animals
 Blame God for this creation
 If only if only...
 There were a stronger fighter...
 Maybe we'd be saved from the debts of hell
 Excuse me hero, where might you be

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Derelict

I am, I guess, a tattered soul. 
A vagabond of sort. 
A derelict adrift at sea. 
No captain and no port. 

Nowhere to go, no one to guide.
This frail and haggard bark,
Aimlessly drifts out to sea, 
Piteously and stark. 

No pilot here the helm to take.
No first mate to assist.
Into oblivion adrift,
Into a dark abyss.

Will there one day a solace be?
Will nepenthe be won?
Can a sweet respite be found
Before my setting sun?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


its up its down
its a merry go around
you will be someone clown
you can do well
don't let other ring your bell
you end up in a jail sell

Details | Prose Poetry | |

One For Love

Your sweet breath escapes you and engulfs my soul 
Through words spoken as though from some celestial being 
Warm emotion floods me, floods my very fibrous core 
Love I feel is not a mere four letter 

Word that reluctantly man takes for granted, but more a 
Monument to the jubilous fire you set my soul alight with 
Speak, I cannot, the true magnitude of shear bliss 
Endured by my mortal flesh. With the slightest brush 
Of your angelic fingers. None can know or fathom 
what true insurmountable beauty lies within 
green fields of yet discovered highland plains laden with 
flowers and sweet honey aroma blows within. Feeble 
in my attempts to profess my own meek emotions 
turmoil of my own past colliding with the yet to be. I destroy 
myself knowing such turmoil I cause in an entity 
none like yourself. Meager apology and material possessions 
offer no hint of emotion of love and remorse contained 
My, love, our love, will endure of that much I am sure. Open my mind 
My only wish, to show you things I need you to see. I have known 
No strength such as yours you take for granted. Times as this 
I've never known but with you only would I have it to spend. Forget 
Not the who I was, the who I am, and the who I will be. 
My love, our love will endure of that much I am sure 
Monotony & Mundane remain the same 
caught in this slippery pretty net 
we're all falling in and around our own whirlpools 
our upward spiral climbs too high - the higher up the further down 
Fly the same play the same one with the other 
floating always floating 
This sea we've created weaved in the merciless 
fabric of the time we all flock to certain death 
holding the hands of our clocks & wondering why 
our own bleed. double edged is the face of 
a sundial. With each shadow flicker anguish & 
joy death & life exist permanently & are lost forgotten 
by time held by life lost by eternity. 
Let's all rally hand in hand while the band 
plays on 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I can't look...

I watch in disgust
As the scale goes up,
And my stomach drops.

The scale is both my best friend 
And my darkest enemy.
It can either save me,
Or be my utter demise.
But either way,
It doesn't lie.
It always speaks the truth,
No matter the consequences,
No matter the circumstances.

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

That's what the voices whisper,
Quietly wreaking havoc in my mind.
Silently breaking me down,
From the inside out.

The mirror breaks
As my fist collides.
Hundreds of crystal pieces,
Stained red with crimson liquid.
The image of myself long gone.

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

They echo in my head,
Relentlessly breaking my dreams,
Until they're just like the mirror;

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

The ringing in my ears
A mere whisper,
Compared to the sound
Of my breaking heart.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

hell terrors pt 2

It is raining
 Is a hurricane blowing 
No speck of light is showing 
The fear is now growing 
Demonic voices overflowing 
it's the ghastly reaper hacking 
All the demons are snacking
 hoping to cause some flacking
 The reaper wants to start some shacking
 danger danger...danger..
 Only feeling the ground spinning 
Who will it be to start winning...
 Or will it just be sinning...?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

my whitness

A glass of whiskey for the stress put on me
 another drink to ease my pain
 this shot of vodka for the lies I learned
 pour me one for the shame I carry
 Down the drinks to forget the memories I see
 Smell the alcohol on my breath
 See me stumble into the darkness 
Just another reason to avoid my life
 Slowly slipping away from all
 It is you I call to
 For you are my only whitness 
Down the drink

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Leave me

Leave me
 Written 10-18-05 Edited 5-4-07
I'm bleeding and pleading for you to stop the lies I just want to say my last goodbyes 
I'm killing myself slowly
 By you making me lonely 
I can't listen to your trust 
It's turning my heart into dust
 I hate it
 It's overated
 Annoying my own pain
 It's driving me insane
 Just please leave and believe me
 I do not like you no more
 you caused me to be so sore
 Get out 
I want you to go pout 
So long
 Be gone 
Please Leave me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The last beating

The last beating
 Written 5-11-07 Edited 5-15-07
I wake up to hear screaming
 Loud piercings through my ears
 I try to ignore them
 They become more closer
 The bedroom door creeps open 
A shadow walks inside Pain,
 pain seels into my skin
 Rushing blood onto the floor 
My nose drips so quickly
 Bruises begin to form 
I cry out for help
 No one around to see
 My body starts to shutdown
 But the agony feels much worse 
I try to stay awake
 The room begins to spin
 I now know it's time to die
 As the beatings become harder
 I pray to god to forgive
 What has been done to me 
I gently close my eyes 
While the light slowly fades

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life on the streets

Life on the streets
 Written 9-2-07
It's a cold bitter night 
With nothing but garbage to eat 
Wrapped in a shredded blanket
 A little stuffed animal to comfort 
Worrying that death approaches around the corner 
Thinking night will never end
 Now huddled in a warm corner 
Closing the eyes to dream of wealth 
Shadows fall nearby 
Being beaten and tortured
 No one near to help 
Covered in bruises and stained with blood
 Tears down the cheeks 
Crying to fall asleep 
Morning beginning a suffering day 
Kneeling on the ground begging for money
 Just one bite of real food
 Being stared at and called names 
Smelling from a lack of hygiene
 Weakness in the body 
Nothing but skin and bones 
Longing for a piece of food 
Hiding in a dark corner 
Laying on the ground Closing the eyes 
Never seeing the light again

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Everyone needs one

Everyone needs one
I come and go sick or healthy 
I create beautiful pictures-Artist 
I write stories-Writer
 I use my voice all the time-Singer
 I dramatize everything you see-Actor/Actress 
I fix your computer-Computer Technician 
I repair your vehicles-Mechanic 
I heal your pets-Veterinarian
 I educate you well-Teacher
 I’m their when you’re dying-Doctor
 I supply your medication-Pharmacist
 I prevent forest fires-Ranger
 I take care of your children-Babysitter 
I hire the needed for jobs-Businessmen
 I translate your words-Interpreter
 I keep the people in town safe-Policemen
 I solve unwanted crimes-FBI Agent 
I make sure you stay in your cell-Prison Guard 
I play mind games-Psychiatrist 
I fight for your rights-Lawyer
 I arbitrate your freedom-Judge
 I make decisions that affect my country-President
 I fight for this country-Soldier
 I hardly rest-Congressmen 
I entertain you and your family-Comedian
 I make you choke on your words-Debater 
Sometimes I rip you off-Telemarketers
 I make you lose your house-Bill Collectors
 I steal your money in a secretive way-Government
 I destroy your country-Mobster 
I’m after your president-Terrorists 
I may be rich, average, or poor but at least I do my best 
Until the end

Details | Prose Poetry | |

never proven guilty

Written 20070907
I was the type of girl
 Who never rejected guys
 Until the horrid thing done to me
 Someone I thought to trust
 He Betrayed me 
Left me on the floor to suffer deep pain
 He stole my innocence
 laughed while I yelled for him to stop
 He punched me in the face 
Told me not to tell anyone
 If I did I would be dead
 I laid there in silence
 While I bled on the floor 
I couldn't go home now
 Locked up in his house 
No one to see me 
Days went by rapidly 
The police searched everywhere 
Finally they gave up 
For I was never found

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thespider and man

Spider; is high time you started thinking like human
That, made unique from us, I don’t deny the fact
I have quit your fascinating homes
Yet, in all your regalia
You have come to disturb me in my nasty abode.
Man; what a gross contempt
You speak with no iota of sincerity 
How can you say, ye departed from men
When you are fully in charge in men’s home
As they become incapacitated to be neat.
Spider; your utterance was conditional, I am glad
That I don’t near men’s home if things are not in disarray
But, when you come to my abode
You destroy my estate that I built tenaciously
Through which I have my daily bread.
Man; beyond every reasonable doubt, you have proved
Even dough you seem to be the biggest of all insects
What so ever in that your body is complete water
How can you build your enticing estate to block our route-?
Through which we make our own daily bread!
Spider; men can be dam selfish! Even dough-
Sometimes, I be your guest 
To make you uncomfortable so you can learn to be neat
But, never stopped the source of your daily bread
Why should you destroy my estate for your own daily bread?
Man; that was a cute question! I never knew you are brilliant with such a small head  
I taught the creator deprived you everything. You are incompetent to use the-
Colossal double-eyes of yours and you are myopic in everything
And to till the earth with your enormous legs is never in your agenda!
Spider; don’t make ridicule of me dear! I concede that am lazy
But, I use my talent to eke for a living
But, you answer luxurious names like, “professor, lawyer, doctor and whatever “ 
Why not make use of your big brain for your daily bread? 
Instead of perpetual head-ache I embrace from you in farmlands and forests.
Man; you don’t know men give you too much privilege
You jump and dance from one three to another
With your cursed anus to make your abode
Do we not virtually plant those threes you enjoy?
Learn to be appreciative for once in your life!
Spider; there should be no course for alarm!
At least, men should treat me with an iota of courtesy
You should know that, whatever you see in your route in the farm as web
It is my estate I had taken time to build and is a source of my daily bread
Be comfortable as a superior being and I as well be comfortable as a lesser animal ! 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Depression Challenges

You came to me without warning 
Took up occupancy without permission 
Your purpose hidden from the host 
In a dark cloud of anger and confusion

But you did not come alone 
You brought along a companion 
Pessimistic fear was his name 
Wreaking panic and consternation

 The question asked over and over 
How long did you plan to stay 
We could not see the answers offered 
With a mind that had gone astray

You were very active in your work 
Every day you plucked the beam of joy 
And left an impostor in its place 
What was I to do but cry

While you were at your mindless task 
You caused the host a lot of pain 
Damaged work and social contacts 
And his relations twice again

Your host had cultivated well the ground 
When day and night were merged in one
Working at unremitting pace
If you could see the damage done

From that time is twenty years or more Y
ou have come and you have gone 
I do not wish to have you back 
I once again am one

From now on I guard the door
By reflecting well on lessons learned Painful, fearful, costly payment 
Joy and freedom is well earned

Details | Prose Poetry | |

hell terrors pt 1

shadows creeping
 wind is blowing
 screams of torture echoing
 all the fires of hell blaze 
is the reaper stalking
 demon voices yelling
 come closer...closer closer
 yes the time has arrived 
the clock is ticking
the fire keeps on growing
 it's causing exploding 
as u hear the demons calling
 louder louder...
 until the darkness overwhelms 
and keeps on spreading
 boom..what happens next...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

swim into the falls

Written 20071004
Sadness slowly flows through my veins 
The only way is a penalty 
I ask myself why did I do it 
What defeated the purpose in killing
 Such disparity, vengeance I created
 I look down at the reflection 
How could I be such an animal
 Staring at the face in the water 
My final decision has been struck
 I turned and looked at the surroundings
 Police in sight at every corner 
Thinking clearly, I must escape
 I do not wish to spend my life behind iron bars Inside these prison walls evil lurking everywhere Something that holds you unaware of consciousness 
I glance behind my shoulder nervously
 Running faster...
 step by step the men come 
Bending my knees I dive deep into the water There was a soft whisper seeping through my ears 
I listened to the voice speaking softly
 I swim far deep to the other side of the river
 I wait to see if someone is following 
Nothing but the rushing water above 
They were gone, no cops in sight or in view 
I cheer quietly for my success 
The victory of my escape
 My appreciation from the voice in which I heard Exciting to remember the very words
 "Swim into the falls."

Details | Prose Poetry | |

No Death For The Weary

...I loved like a run on sentence mentally continuing thoughts of love lost silently withering away... & they would say my heart resembles barren land barely surviving the winter's harshest frost heaven had froze over hell to pay was the cost & based on our trials I sentenced myself into becoming a hollowed structure & I structured my spine into a physical slump so the world could see how hard it is for a mere human baring ungodly emotional weights I weighed... multiple options of opinionated open ended questions questioning us while sleeping eyes wide shut wishing our love would thrive like vines entangled around coffins wishing for a breath of fresh air to enter a corpse esophagus which meant... in order for us to appreciate such a love one of us would have to die & I'm still breathing... ...your death was a must...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

for the childrens sake

Sep 4 2007 
Deep pain and misery
 Shuts among the little ones
 They cry for help
 No one to understand
 Mother is always out drinking 
Father is abusing them 
Big sister and brother are at school 
Just only wanting to be loved 
But the family does not want to
 As the children grew older 
The hate sunk in 
Their mother was dying
 Father was in jail 
Big sister lived on the streets
 Brother was following his father's steps 
The children did not care
 They grew up not knowing what a family was like 
When they finally became parents 
The cycle began

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Excitement for death

Excitement for death
 Written 10-20-05 Edited 5-4-07
My heart is beating really fast 
As I quickly recall my past
 My eyes are burning from the tears
 While I am facing my last fears
 I write my last note saying my goodbyes
 I grab the knife
 To take my life
 I raise the knife in the air
 Praying that it will be fair
 I jab it in 
Revealing my horrible sins
 Bleeding badly
 As I stare at it sadly
 Taking my last breath
 I fall to my death

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The days and nights seem to be nothing but gloom
 I am frightened to know I must face my doom
 Do I have the courage to stand up for what's right
 Must I say I give up without a fight
 This depression goes on as each day flies by
 All I do is sit in my room and just sigh 
Tomorrow will be another day to serve the pain
 Now blessed be, bring on the rain

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope There is a Heaven the Invisible Man

Across the fields of golden corn there are no subtle waves just wretched waves,
I stand and look and it takes me back to bitterness no clean bright golden days,
I remember standing here with you but you have gone no more smiling at my side,
This was many, many years ago your smile was my sword but you left me you died,
Often I stand in our place with vengeance and anger seeing what we once both saw,
My eyes well up with warm tears I need revenge to calm my hate as never before,
And through my tears I see you my throat burns looking across our favorite place,
So young so pretty full of life my heart stopped, there is so much I cannot face
Living always with sadness trudging through a ruined life it’s been so very long,
You visit my dreams every night then again you leave in the morning you are gone,
And so starts another day of sadness all alone and a heavy aching, bleeding heart,
The words I need do not exist they never will all is pain as it hurts to be apart,
So I get on with my life through its blackness, play the part of a very average man,
Deep inside hidden under hate and bitterness we will be one again, I hope we can.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

As Blue as the Moon

I feel the blue covering the moonlight
The darkness eclipsing the sunrise
I find no comfort in the joys of life
As a total eclipse resides
In my heart

No more begging for leftovers at the prominent tables
Wanting friendship with the highly favored
I find much distress lapping crumbs from the floors of the hearty 
As clarity develop roots
in the soil of my flesh

My flesh lives on 
And my heart dies in mortal combat over love, right, and wrong.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fields Forever

Until the end, I fight 
I fight until the light is no more 
and the perilous night does begin 
& when my day is gone & future masked 
I climb my mountain with head hanging low 
Low for now, I killed and desecrated all held sacred 
Slain the last foe & as the day breaks again 
I gaze at fields of red fury 
Fury misunderstood all dead to understand 
Mountains ahead and behind, in this valley of 
Presence. Engulfed by injustice and punished 
In personal strife, I cry, 
not out but in I cry to hear 
inside, inside where I've tried to hide 
and defend on this field of red 
with no more to hide & more to 
hide from. I perch on this mountain I've made 
& expose myself to all, with none to tell 
I'm free, lost to live, lost to die 
Never to love, never to fly. Only wallow for 
It turns to night and shadows comfort me my friends 
Till the end 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man 16

I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.

The Invisible Man sits on his bench in the shopping parade it is a windy day but the sun shows itself every now and then. He feels hung over today as he was drunk last evening and his mind wanders off in different directions. Again his defence mechanisms start to work and he reflects about his past.

I have seen bright-eyed daises open and golden yellow buttercups across huge meadows unfold,
A delicate golden shining carpet spreading across water-mead’s the finest a cloth of purest gold,
White clouds scudding across watery blue skies, puffs of cotton changing their shapes as they go,
Storms at a distance rumbling and rolling peels of thunder and lightning both with hail and snow,
Pure white spring lambs grazing beside a crystal brook looking around and dancing in their stream,
Swallows playing games flying fast and low singing with joy while the brown cows give cream,
But now I have no home and this beautiful land stays in my head like a picture painted in my mind,
Even in my desperate loneliness I still dream longing and searching for more dear memories to find,
In my daydream there is an old road winding its way to nowhere I lean on an old gate in the lane,
I dream of May time everything is being reborn the glades and the fields turn back to gold again,
In my daydream I am listening to a skylark singing sweetly joined by a nightingale over my head,
In my dream I am respected and good company I have friends talking and laughing enjoying life,
But it is just a dream and my dreams never come true they end in tragedy and cruelty why is this?

Invisible is brought back to reality when he realises someone is shouting at him for sitting on the seat he is told that the seat is for old people to sit on. Invisible tells the man there is plenty of room on the seat. The reply to that is ‘ who in their right mind wants to sit next to a smelly old dosser move now!’

Details | Prose Poetry | |


it can play games
you can forget your name
the minds not a play thing
it can change
don't go insane
read the sign

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Kiss The Sky

She held her breath as he passed, 
But that only made her transparent.
She swallowed her pride at last, 
And in her heart it became apparent.
She took rejection like a champion; 
Held her head up high; although she wanted to die.
She said to herself, never ever again, 
Will I let a man make me cry.
She carried on from day to day;
Displaying a warm smile- becoming cold inside;
Was competent in pretending that everything was ok, 
While silently making plans for one last ride.
She blew a kiss and said goodbye, 
To anybody who still might care;
Drove off the cliff, yet unable to cry
And blew away with the evening air.

Tonight she would kiss the sky.

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The Are Things Which We Never Speak Of

There are things which we never speak of. There are things which never cross 
our lips. Even though our minds and eyes say them, we have an unknown fear of 
actually bringing them to audible words. For if they are heard, it is as though we 
are vulnerable. We are vulnerable to the only thing that we believe to control by 
ourselves. Thoughts like these are the ones that prevent us from opening up to 
the ones we trust. We feel as though we can’t share these thoughts without 
having some consequence brought to us. Even our closest friends and loved 
ones never know our innermost feelings. They do not truly understand where we 
come from because we lack the ability to express ourselves fully whilst having 
this fear of being vulnerable to openness. We don’t know if there will ever come a 
time that this fear will be wiped away and lack the inability of bearing ourselves, 
however, we must always believe there will one day be a time that we can do 

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The Invisible Man 8

The Invisible Man has one jewel! Nature
There is no world without the beauty of nature,
So what is left when these gifts have left a bitter man?
Would it be hell, pain, permanent punishment?
Or the deepest darkest prison with no light.
Deep in my dreams I can remember the word kindness,
But it is only a word, one I have never understood nor met,
Would kindness walk hand in hand with nature?
Would it be a different emotion away from hate and revenge?
Was there once a word called gentleness?
From a time that some people cared?
No! There cannot be, because nobody cares,
Another legend from stories long time past.
So what happened to those long gone emotions?
Selfishness has taken up his sword and struck them down,
Did it also cut down the word friendliness?
What would it have been like to have a friend?
Come with me along a road, I built it myself,
Experience fear, black corners, black tunnels, strangeness,
The grass is coarse, trees lining my road are very wrong,
Listen to the whispers, from nobody, nowhere, hissing hate.
Conspicuous, and unwanted, taunts of filth and disgust,
Cold, icy, razor sharp swords lightly cut exposed parts,
I hear mourning, weeping, great anguish, I think it's my own,
I am tired, can't rest, I am too petrified to sleep.
The road is danger, I know some thing unthinkable waits,
For a weakness to show maybe hunger, maybe, compassion,
Evil walks my road silent, glaring bitter revenge at me,
But the real evil is a cowardliness, I cannot escape.

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A Mother's Worst Nightmare

There you were

I held you in my hands

You were my gift

After nine months of care

I wished for you hopes and dreams to come true

You were my dream come true

I guess my prayers weren’t listened to

But someone took you away from me much too soon

I said hello to you

But I never said goodbye

I still can’t believe you died

My soul and heart forever broken

Nothing to make it better or fix it

I laid you to rest on many nights

Knowing you would wake up

Unfortunately,today I laid you to rest

Asking god to love and protect you

In heaven you wait for me

To resume our relationship of mother and son

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its sad you do bad
and you get mad
you have been had
tho the world is wide
moves side by side
do wrong youcan't go on
these are no lies

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Great Night Out

It was now September there was a smell of autumn in the air autumn fires burned,
On a bleak night lying on a cold wet floor the night chilled all that were out,
The naked earth was cold hard, in the distance leaves went brown and fell down,
As autumn steals upon us and steals the warm dry days the winter waits to pounce.

Sitting on a park bench drinking sherry from a bottle a lonely man feels blighted,
He has a stained duffel bag by his side full of pickings from a good days begging,
Five bottles of sherry lay in his bag it made him feel good it made him feel safe,
Each time he took a swig the sweet thick sickly liquid made him feel warm inside.

Sitting like a king on a throne with his bag of goodies he had it all a happy man,
With one hand on his duffel bag he could feel hard rounded bottles heavy and full,
At this moment he would not change life with anyone having all he needed and more,
He did not even fear the wretched hangover in the morning he could drink it away.

Finishing one bottle he felt good he gave a happy sigh and threw it across the park,
Flushed with complete happiness he pulled out another bottle and gave it a huge kiss,
He twisted the top off and put it to one side and chugged great big draughts of joy,
He sat with legs out straight getting comfortable this was a night away from sadness.

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Silencing Them

People think I'm crazy
doing what I'm doing,
but they don't' understand
what's going on.

Faces twist
   in the dark mist,
as thoughts
unparalleled to any
          I've had before
race around screaming.
All wanting to be heard
             at once
as they pound 
   on the inside
of my cranium,
not allowing me 
               to concentrate
on any particular one,
numbing my senses
and locking my jaw shut.

People just don't know
what it's like in here,
fighting for the ideas
          I've had
that are being strangled
by my thoughts. 
That is why
I do what I do.
Going where the music's loud
and the light flash
in spectrums of beauty,
it may not
silence my thoughts,
and I may never
resurrect my ideas,
but when I'm on the dance floor
I can't hear them,
they can't scream that loud,
and the feelings produced
       by the music
                 and the crowd
heal the dents in my skull
causing a temporary feeling
                of bliss
that makes this thing
       we call life
               more bearable.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I was so tired

			I nearly died

				          Just about stopped


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I Choose Life Instead

 I swallowed my life away one day
No desire for the future to play.

No care to live another moment
I just wanted the world to be silent.

A handful of pills I quickly take, 
Soon my body would lose its power to wake.

Satisfaction I felt as my mind lost control
Or was it the Grim Reaper, coming to take my soul.

Two hours later almost too late
Repulsive and denial was my state. 

Two doctors reviving me was my only cure
destroying the poison to kill me for sure?

Can't keep it down & not fighting to try
But it's the only way I'm not going to die.

Waking up from ill unconsciousness 
only to expel the poison of which I digest.

Help me through each waking breath
don't wake me if I drift to my sudden death.

Holding on and don't know why
I'm tired of this old life. 

I wake to find my life hanging by a thread; 
with a spitting headache I wished I was truly dead.

Then I begin to get a picture and a brief moment to find, 
I almost killed myself was I out of my mind.

It was that Gods Love that gave me one more chance to live my life to the fullest 
and spare no expense. 

The voice tells me now it wasn't my time & that Life is MINE , 
to toss away our ONLY Life, for this one Life that we have it is too DIVINE to 
swallow our life away with pills & wine!

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Responses to Reflexive Daydream

But my love had wanted me to close my eyes. She awaited that moment for an eternity with
unrivaled patience. For she was in love with the water and waited only for me to close my
eyes so that her escape could happen without my perception. I was the scapegoat for my
love. What a cruel twist of irony: the reason I was unhappy would seemingly be of my
fault. How amazingly spiteful that the one I loved so much allowed me to wallow in
self-pittance while she made off with her true love. Her true love that lurked so calmly
undetected, yet was there the whole time. 

My love floated, dead, alongside my boat. I continued to ride as the boat smoothly and
steadily headed toward shore. In an almost humorous obedience, my love stayed alongside
the boat. Caught in the wake, her non-seeing eyes saw everything but saw nothing. Her
beauty was unharmed and the water made her shimmer and sparkle with the sun's rays. If
this was how it was going to be, I was okay with it. My love was happy. As I rode closer
to shore, my love's body slowly started to float higher up on the water. Her eyes became
less whited. As the boat slid up onto the soft, white sand, her laid half-in, half-out of
the lake. Without hesitation, I bent down and lifted her into my arms. As she awoke from
the sleep of death, she coughed and gasped. I whispered I love you as our embrace grew.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Tear

A single fear sliding
off the face as though clinging
for one's own soul.
Slipping from its home, only to
plummet into Hades' foul grasp
exploding into cascading oblivion.

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this you nee to do
as afriend i tell you
to step back

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get this in your head
as you lay in bed
think before you buy
say sale well thats hale
it just a away to get you in
take from friend
will get you the right key

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Great Existence

Moving up over through 
All I've known is felt through the end 
Never a beginning always ending
Falter as I may, myself I hold - alone in company 
Tress in to limestone pillars of my great hall 
Great as the Norse and proud as well
Threads of time woven with clumsy hands led by blind eyes 
Thus is the expanse of the web of life The Great Existence 
Not where but it's the being that is. Is what I am and 
What we are

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you must  stop this stuff
i hate to get ruff
do this i must
let you know
before you go
and walk out the doo
put your mouth in cuff

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In The Dark

All alone in the dark, i can see nothing any which way i turn. I can hear nothing 
but the eerie calm of silence. My heart skips a beat as my imagination begins to 
plays tricks on me. How i got here, i do not know. I am just as clueless to where i 
am as to who i am. A name is such a simple and instinctive thing to know, but i 
do not obtain this basic knowledge of myself. I do not know my past nor my 
present. This darkness terrifies my senses and makes my insecurties take flight. 
I don't know if i will be able to survive such emptiness as that which surrounds 
me. I can feel it grabbing at me. It tears like claws into my soul. It has already 
taken my identity. The only thing left for it to steal is my life. Life is such a precious 
gift that one should not give up easily. We only recieve one, so why should 
something that doesn't deserve it be allowed to take it? The coldness is getting 
unbearble. My body shivers and shakes with the wind. I can feel my life slipping, 
but i won't give up... i can't give up something that i hold so dear. It will just have 
to rip the life from me.

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Love's Battle

I'm going crazy
Not because I'm lazy
As some would think
With their timid blinks

I find no solace in this place
Of mental waste
Tap dancing around hot fuses
Searching for certain muses

I shall wander around in dark places
Forever wasteful
Dwindling opportunities to be grateful
I find myself in danger

Losing myself
In twenty years of wealth
Knowing what I want, who I am
All lost in love's battle 

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There is nothing left here
for death to claim; even hunger
has abandoned the swollen bellies
and parched skin of the walking dead:
eyes of gigantic pupils sunken deep
into desiccated cranial caverns.

In this fenced graveyard of waning life, flies
soar to and fro---depositing metaphoric maggots
in the midst of the festering wounds of despair.

In this God forsaken place, the flame of hope
grows dimmer with the wrinkling nipples of the breast
of time---her hourglass---haltingly emptying its self:

There is no refuge here
for the refugee.

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The Memories

They're coming after me. I try to hide, but they always find me. Even in the darkest 
corner, I'm not safe. The thoughts of what they'd do to me, nearly drive me 
insane. I am not afraid of them, I am terrified of them. I don't know what to do. 
How do I escape them? How do I free myself of them for good? They have found 
a way to tear at my heart. A way to enter my mind. If they find me, I'll be forever 
doomed. I can't allow them, the memories of my past, to break my soul.

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3Fabel3 Part Two

The day was almost over the length of shadows added to the horror the suicided 
failure as eye kicked the step away from the very air eye breathed only to discover 
that the rope that eye had lengthened only added more to links already there until 
my feet quite reached the floor and the suicide was haltered when the noose 
quite simply hit the floor. Yes eye commited suicide yet now eye am still quite 
alive and living in my love. Eye have uncovered the secret of the screen the 
gamma rays are there in the background when they are lessoned the blue turns 
dark there is a control eye found marked cool. The computer hurts my lidded 
brow much less now. Blackstone's characterization of property rights as "sole 
and despotic dominion which one man claims and exercises over the external 
things of the world, in total exclusion of the right of any other individual in the 
universe," the exercise of this fabel is now exercised for ewe she owns the 
poems too. 
          Hemp Rope 

Natural hemp rope, hand-twisted in Romania into 50 foot bundles of various 
diameters. Made from dry-spun hemp yarns, this rope is traditional hemp rope 
unchanged and in continuous use for centuries. Naturally mold and mildew 
resistant, this rope is suited for outdoor as well as indoor use. A classic product 
with a truly rustic and natural look. You'll get years of use for out of this hemp 
rope regardless of the application. 
Look at this last line gentile reader a glitch most certainly or just a mistranslation 
it must be why the eye is still alive and the rope just did not hang me. The Law of 
Blackstone is now the one of Livingstone eye presume. 

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A Lament

I have swallowed the poison...
suffered through darkness.
I have tasted the ashes,
lived in utter lostness.

I remember the pain
when hitting bottom;
desperate I dreaded,
what I had become.

To be punished for sin,
how dare I complain!
Is The Lord not my life
from whence I came?

I have entered The Light!
My Soul has been taken.
God proves to be Faithful,
To The called He's awakened!

Milton L. Delgado
Inspired By The Book of Lamentations
Chapter 3
October 20, 2006

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its sad you do bad
and you get mad
you have been had
tho the world is wide
moves side by side
do wrong youcan't go on
these are no lies

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yes it was tough
at time got rough
and i bit the dust
in god i trust
i sid stop
am from the old block
i got thur the

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Hidden Emotions

We keep things hidden inside that we are too afraid to show. When we have 
nowhere to turn, we push our feelings down and try to pretend that they don't 
exist. We cover ourselves with a mask as though, with that mask, we are freed of 
our emotions. If we are lucky enough, our trick will work for a while until the 
inevitable happens and our hidden thoughts burst up and overwhelm us. They 
feed on us until we break down and face them. Tears help to wash away the 
feeling of helplessness and lonliness that can break us if we allow such to 
happen. We can never rid ourselves of these, but we can try to take control of 
them so they don't hurt as much.

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Confusion sets in
Along with it the sense of vertigo and spinning wheels
Tumbling end over end and from side to side
Slipping through the cracks in the floor

I’m lost again
Forgotten all over again
Unforgiven one last time
And still the church bells ring out to echo the tale of my soul
With its sweet ballad of woe
And crying eyes and flushed cheeks
Petals flakes falling softly to the ground
Crushed beneath feet and booted heels and crooked canes

But my heavy eyes and slumping shoulders burdened so
By this weight upon them both
Throws down the gauntlet of dreariness deep

“God help me now . . .”
And no there is no answer for one so wicked as I
No answer at all for I deserve none don’t you think?

“Well to hell with you God!”
My head sags to my chest and my eyes close
The lids so heavy

I feel the sense of gravity on my face
And still there is no answer

“Who needs you anyway, you never answer . . .”

No flower petals . . .

. . . . either

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theyer out there
this time of year
so be aware
 don't just stare
kept  your mine
in time
and in the socket
so your know

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don't be blind
read the sign
kept this in mind
you can't win
with sin
the world is

Details | Prose Poetry | |

the loss of a sister

We weren't like friends,
We were like sisters;
Bonded in such a way
That my heart ached when we fought.

You were always there,
In your own peculiar way.
You were always there,
Making light of my problems.
You were always there,
Taking my mind off of everything...
You were always there.

You were never there,
Letting me cry on your shoulder.
You were never there,
When I needed help.
You were never there,
To help me ease my pain...
You were never there.

And yet,
Through all of my misery,
I miss you.
I miss my friend.
I miss my sister.
And we both made mistakes,
Because neither one of us was perfect;
But you made the ultimate mistake.
You doubted my loyalty,
You doubted our friendship,
You doubted me.
But it was you that you should have worried about.
You ruined us.
And yet,
You still blamed me.
You still made me believe
That it was somehow
My fault.
And I hate you for it.
But I hate myself even more;
Because even though I hate you,
And even though you aren't worth it,
I still miss you every second of every day.
I still wish that we could be friends again.
And I hate it;
Because even though I want to,
God I want to,
I can't let go.
I just can't...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

stuck in the maze

I'm stuck
        Wandering around aimlessly
                Every turn different
                        Yet exactly the same
I can't find my
W A Y  O U T


Every step I take
Each corner I turn
I stumble upon

Everything is...

                H                           A
        O                        S

All in the past
But still very much present
All destructive in their own way

I try to grasp onto happiness
But it slips away...
Creeps though my fingers like
Grains of sand.
Can I not hold on?
Can I not hold on a little
Must it go this quickly?
Must it leave me in this much pain?

So many questions...
Will I ever know the answers?

I turn another corner
It's exactly the same
I want to get
I want to be free...

But I can't.
Because I'm not stuck in this maze...
I am a part of it...
Just like it is a part of me...

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My eyes don't even dare look at my reflection. It is not my outside that bothers me, 
it's my inside. No one sees what I do not allow them to. I do not show them how I 
really feel and I do not show them my true self. I fear that if I show them my true 
self, that I will become vulnerable to them. If I do not share my heart, then I do not 
have to deal with the inevitable pain of it breaking. Lately, I do not know what to 
do. I feel myself becoming weak inside. I have allowed the outside world to 
influence my emotions. Sometimes I feel that if we had no emotions, that we 
would be alot better off. Emotions always end up ruining things and hurting us. I 
wish I could just become hard on the inside so that it wouldn't hurt or bother me 
any longer. If I had a shell around my heart then nothing could come close 
enough to harm it. Nothing would hurt me ever again.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Good -Bye Sonny

Good -Bye Sonny

Sonny was the talk of the town 
and when the neighbors passed by
they  would so often frown
for Sonny was an outcast
one who would take, but never ask
He drank his Spirits from a flask
and couldnt deal with much of a task
Sonny's mom had to go out with a mask
because of all the questions 
that the neighbors would ask
he wouldnt care if she shed a tear
or if her dress flew in the air
and he wouldnt care when the neighbors
passed by in order to stare

Now his mom's emotions were all spent
and to her name she had barely a cent
and she wondered of the length of her torment.

"How long will my torment last?", 
"How much longer?"she' would ask
Then one day, she took that flight
and went toward that white light
that was so bright in her sight
just to end her day and finish off her night.
Good-bye Sonny

McCuen Copyright October 2008

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take it from a friend
don't hold it in
feeling low
let it go
so sit and die
here's why

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Last Walk waterloo Bridge

Waterloo Bridge the last trip for desperate souls has always been a lure,
To jump from to escape from pain, anguish when you just can’t take any more,
What draws the very sad people here, could it be because of the stone seats.
That makes it easier to jump into muddy waters when a lonely heart beats,
At night gas lamps cause mighty shadows lower your head one jump it's done,
Nobody can understand the level of pain or understand how desperation begun,
Standing on a ledge in the moonlight looking down on black water just one leap,
Each has a story that would break any heart but they take it into the deep,
The jumper stands on the stone seat wind dimming lights blowing their hair,
Waiting for the moment willing strength and a new wave of bitterest despair,
Below is the end of all sorrow, poverty, lost love, the many reason for woes,
The River Thames takes anybody the poor, rich no matter what, it still flows.

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bring you down

dont look at me
please turn away
I will only disgust you
and make you cringe
you will hate me
in due time
just like the rest of them do
I am unlovable 
I am invisible
and I will only bring you down
run away from me
far and fast without looking back
I am nothing but darkness
and I will only bring you down

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my shoe sides
is very wide
 my feets made
my shoes just fade
if theyer to small
cause am tall
love to stoop to the music beat
i got

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A Prayer

  A prayer, that no one hears
as i walk through the blinding snow
and up each creaky step, 
they pause to let me by.
Chafed my wrists, your lips
i see, 
each face looks on concerned.
One ask them why.
My love for her, each call, each tear, 
i feel, 
by all around, i see them arm in arm.
The levers pulled.
My head, 
rolls down the wooden ramp, 
and muddies her clean feet.
i stood alone before the bench, 
without a name. 


Is It Poetry 

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We must be careful when exploring the places we have tried to keep hidden. For 
once we open the door to those unrevealed places, we don't know what 
unforseen thing lies behind it. The secrets that we bury will return to us at a 
speed that we cannot stop. When we decide to uncover that which is repressed, 
we must bear the burden that comes along with such. We must carry the 
responsibility of what we discover.

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i know things or not
and its understood
you did the best you could
thats all you can do
 i do the same too
no need to be lying
facts denieing
get up fromt he bad stuff

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reflexive Daydream

We slowly sailed across the placid, blue surface. The profound silence was erupting from
all around. Across the lake, I saw a pair of birds flutter from treetops into the deep
blue lake above us. The Sun was a cherry yellow and everything I laid eyes on was alive in
its reflective radiance. Our boat made the tiniest whisper as it moved over the water. My
nostrils were filled with the intoxicating smell from my lover as we drifted ceaselessly
onward over the calm water. 

But suddenly, clouds exploded above. The Sun disappeared behind the darkness of the storm
cloud. An acrid wind began to blow harshly:  the trees began to bow. Our hair was whipped
about us. The chaos replaced serenity lightning created blinding cracks amongst the black
sky. The once smooth surface of the lake became turbulent with waves that threw our
helpless boat about. I closed my eyes and gave in.

The storm stopped. I opened my clenched eyelids. There before me sat an empty half of my
boat. Not one memento of my love remained. As I drifted onward, soaked and somber, slowly
the boat cried out the only evidence of what took place. The sky seemed paler and the sun
no longer cheery, Now unforgiving and hot. My eyes stung and the trees were pastel. The
water below me was hated and unforgiven. Slowly, beside the boat, my love's beautiful body
began to cry and my apologies fell upon her un-hearing ears. I had learned my lesson. I
begged for a second chance.

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as you walk the street
you hear a back beat
than get moving feet
feeling stark don't walk
listen to the bell show and tell

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Murder is an art form abused by those critters in a hurry to perform a judgement 
call and then scurry off on horses to hide from the real law. 
There is some western hearoes who still hate the Negroes and do not have 
them on the list of living beings in their repertoire of Johnny law. The rope is tied 
in the noose with thirteen winds some say a wind for every step up the gallows 
planks thirteen of them to give the thief a long time to prepare for Hell. We will 
stretch his neck we will hang him high we will send him on his journey to the sky 
they hammer on the gallows while the thief he sits in cell and cries uncertain of 
his future after that and eye suppose there should have been a preacher in all 
those western movies to come in and comfort them the brothers waiting there. In 
desert news in otherworldly tensions there is many promises given of 
conciliations taken from the left hand and given to the behind the back and then 
back to the right this is called the we will do this for you and then no of course we 
do not want to do this not at all syndrome. Also eye have noticed on this internet 
the use of ads is popping up increasing tension in the viewer designing limits on 
the use of money is the income of a prisoner soon increasing is the wealth of 
money belts investing blooming idiots are stealing more to pay for kitchen 
hardware and the laptops on the floor of the living room with HDTTV the 
SuperBowling friends were over just now Johnny Law was at the door way saying 
hey and did you let them in no you just slammed the slamming door way in the 
faces of the lawmen. 
  charlax valentine, here is a copy of the HiCard you 
sent. Since it was mailed to you, it will appear 
that you sent it to yourself. The real card was 
delivered exactly as you saw it previewed. 
The condemned man walked up the steps to the thirteenth story. 
Rope is sometimes frayed in the movies the rope breaks the thief falls to the 
grounded mound and jumps the saddle rides away into the night on horseback 
getting bullets in his gun by magic on the run then fighting back. 
The Hangging Judge in Fort Smith scared me so badly eye can never hold a gun 
in my left handed again. Besides the neck does not look good when rope is tied 
so tightly in the nooses neck. The Arizona Kid hung up his spurs the day the tree 
split into crosses from the lightning bolt surmising that his LORD was not well 
pleased with him that day the Sherriff made his play. 

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Crimson Rain

The day's just beginning and tapping I hear against the window shear. Looking out as if I were a prisoner, a grim, gray sky encroaches and envelops the manor of which I reside. Fascination consumes my very mind as I watch the crystal clear rain turn to a deathly crimson. I blinked my eyes to try and shed this image, but this horrid crimson I could not shake. I leave my chamber halfway to insanity trying to salvage the rest. A cup of tea to do the trick even if it's just a sip. These crimson drops still embedded in my head, robs me of my rationed thoughts drip by drip. Heading for the door I must, for just a faint hope of clearing things up. My mind now in shambles, I look up still seeing the crimson falling from above. I slammed the door shut huffing, puffing, panting in fear knowing that I might be done in by the rain of crimson wanting to get in. I headed for the closet and summoned up my umbrella. I headed for that formidable threshold ready and determined. Do I go out, or should I stay in?

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The Darkness' Hold

The darkness has a tendency to distort and influence your thoughts. When you 
are in the light, the darkness has no control over you. Once you return to the 
darkness, the light is of no aide. The light brings about peace, and the darkness 
brings about uncertainty. Things which seem fine during the day appear distorted 
at night. I don’t know if it is because of the loneliness and solitude found at night, 
or if it is because the light is nowhere to be found. Either way, I always dread 
those hours spent in darkness. My mind races and my heart hurts of uncertainty. 
I doubt myself and I fear that which, during the day, gave me little grief. There is 
no way out of the darkness, and the only way to come to terms with and deal with 
it is to realize that it has no power over you. It is only an illusion that your mind 
perceives as a reality. This false reality only has a hold on you whilst you allow it 
to. Once you let go of the fear, the darkness loses its power.

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You Are = You're

   You're leaving me for  no reason.
 You're going away, and never coming back.
 You're under stress with things on your mind.
You're on the phone, while I have no one to talk to.
 You're out, while I'm cooped up in this crazy house.
You're packing, while I'm watching you go.
 You're not saying a word, while I have lots to say.
 You're out the door, while I can't move.
  You're on that flight, as I watch you go through the window.
 You're gone, while I cry every night.
You're getting engaged, while nothing's working for me.
  You're in another world, while I'm back here fighting.
  You're getting married, while I think about what we used to have.
You're having a baby, while I cry like one.
 You're growing old with the love of your life, while I just died.

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don't tell me
i can see
we'll let you be
i know what you
been thur
it make me blue too

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cream Tortellini

Last night I found a sentence in your bed, just lying there between smiles and sweat.
And I picked it up and said: Hey Baby, let’s get more of those! But then you rose from the
bed and so on and shouted: No way! But what does it say? Oh Honey, you know I can’t tell
you that! But it’s got the I, the L and the Y words in it. And then you started talking
about buildings. Like if you had an ugly one just opposite a beautiful one, you would
prefer to live in the ugly one, so that you could look out on the beautiful one. And not
the other way around. And then you said that if love was Cream Tortellini you would prefer
kebab. Cause it’s easier to get hold of if you come home late at night – perhaps a little
tipsy – but you don’t have to if you don’t want to, and Kebab isn’t as fattening and that
you aren’t that keen on pasta anyway.

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Comment to Willy-fred

thanks, dude- yes 100% right-- did you ever get totally shattered by someone you 
love??  Remember how the music in the background took on a whole 'nother 
significance??  A totally new, far more aware, state of being-yet, of course, not 
necessarily a better one....thanks for the comment- send me your email address, 
so we don't have to converse this way.  Mine   Regards, 

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On Life (for Rene Bennett)

"Loneliness has never earned a day's pay.
     What I've learned, first of all, is that loneliness chooses it's own weapons.  It 
hasno distinguishing marks, and comes in no colors at all.  Sometimes, it will 
creep up on you, and at other times, it will take a poke at you and stalk off.  In 
either case, you're left by yourself, holding your stomach, winding itself into 
     If happiness is circular, as some people claim, then loneliness is trapezoidal.  
With those two parallel lines that never meet and are permanently boxed in.  Only 
the lonely could identify with the quixotic quadrilateral.
     One more thing; loneliness is sexless and ageless.  It affects everyone.  Like 
the panhandler said; "People are crazy.  They won't even listen to me.  They just 
walk away."  So I gave him a quarter, and he added it to his handful of change.  
Change, but no change.  Everything remains the same when you're alone.  As 
you're standing in someone else's pouring rain, it will hit you: the elemental 
distraction at the base of your life is yourself......"  written when I was twenty years 

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Perhaps the stifled conversation, the contact Of Bodies

Or the Building and Spitting and Swearing

The Light, the graze of many Nameless finger-tips

Or the tenderness, which in the end, Deciphered Nothing.

The words addressed and loved by Someone,

But never repeated, nor spoken of since,

Vanished Smiles, lost  while pursuing things

 piled up

In the moist corner of some heated soul, 

The feeling of Black hair,

Soft and brief, against a nipple, A Thigh wrapped loose

And lazy across Jutted hips.

Or Withered clocks, the blue cement of dreams,

The Passed over Jokes, Or all those hushed Anguish hearts,

Sipped Steamy, With Coffee.

Casually flicked Loves, like Stomped Cigarette Butts

Or maybe abandoned street wise and left 

For a car to run over. Finish Off. 

(We never did think about Ashtrays or Forest Fires)

Your Stampede of Breath, those Trampling hoofs of Wine,

The sight of pants, tussled, awry, spread eagle over a lamp,

“But, what If it Catches Fire?”

That girl who came to shout. 

But forgot her Tongue, Her Throat , Her Mouth.

And Ended up just standing there crying.

Of splendor and Steaming, the Mouth of never Say, Not-No-I’m Tired,

The soft Peach Fuzz hair, of everywhere Dear

The taste of licked dew across your cheek-bones

(Just How long… did we sleep on that Park Bench?)

The Palm trees harried by Squirrels pretending to be Roosters

The sea left Behind, the ground darkened by stones,

How Long Baby? It’s been such a Long time…

This tiny house, the floors covered in Papers

“But, What if it Catches Fire?”

To late though… 

Even I Realize.

These Memories Are Already Ablaze. 


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streams of crimson

I stare
At the crimson liquid dripping down
Not a tear
Not a flinch
Nothing to indicate what I feel
If I feel

Little droplets 
Making their way down
Staining the pristine white floor
With their bright red color
A blank stare
Embracing the pain
Embracing FEELING

Putting down the blade
I stare at what I've done
Face void of emotion
Bright red streaks
Covering the tattered skin
Little streams of crimson
Flowing down
A slight burn
Where the cold metal
Cut through flesh
Assuring me
That I'm not yet gone

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Valentine's Day Birthday

My sweet Ruby's birthday,
Naturally on Valentine's day,
In her honor, the NY city of Beacon
Will close their schools!
Ain't that a kick?
Though, sadly, 
She seems to be "missing in action" lately,
Many wonder why,
She is so loved on this site,
Many of us cry....
So come back home,
To the five and dime,
We'll even through in some 
Jimmy Dean sausages!!!

Or, as Kenny Roger's first song went,
"Ruby, don't take your poems to town!"

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My Dear Mother Teresa

I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell 
ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc.

anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are 
the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of 
Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it 
collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole.
best regards, tom

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Made Of Misery

Shuffling along
with the rest of the herd,
noticing the nuances
of the livestock,
slowly feeling 
the numbing pulse,
       shake through my body,
twisting my soul
to match the cull.

It almost
    slips past
         my senses,
the slow.
             of my.....self,
but I do catch it
and release my horde
from my abyss.
Scorching the landscape
back to the ash encrusted ravines
       and jagged,
               crumbling cliffs
that fit
         my troops.

Misery is
leading my minions
on the siege of this
          blissful mosaic,
scattering the enemy forces,
like pigeons on the sidewalk
as a child runs through
their flock.

The skies are splattered
with blood,
as the orangeness of
desolation sets in.
Then as the scene
reaches epic beauty,
a casym splits my battlefield,
like a black bolt of lightening
running across the ground,
festering with unrefuted dispair,
causing a shockwave
                        of immobility
to pass through both ranks,
turning the battleground
into a garden of terracotta

Some shatter,
like a ceramic vase,
as the dispair settles
back into the earth,
leaving my castle,
              under reconstruction,
For the brick of depression
I've used to rebuild my walls
are impenetrable to the likes 
                       of this.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Black

   I  am walking through the dark  tunnel below the old, supposedly haunted house. My God,
is it ever nerve wracking. The pungent smell of must   permeates my nasal cavity. I can't
see anything due to the blackness, the evil, piercing black.  Even my own hand, only an
inch or so from my face, is unseen, shrouded in darkness.
   I begin hearing a strange rustling sound behind me. I shrug it off.  Again I hear it,
this time followed by whispers, sounds of talking, and even laughter.  
   "It's only my imagination,"  I say.    Slowly the sounds become louder, and I turn just
in time to see the blood red eyes staring at me through the black.