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absence abuse
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Long Depression Poems | Long Depression Poetry

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Long Poems
Long poem by Cierra Thomas | Details |


I used to dream of a dark hall. Dim. Empty with thick cheap navy curtains. 
The breeze. It felt hot and old. It shivered in the curtains that lined the walls on both sides.
The breeze. It must have been a stiff breeze to blow those heavy curtains. It makes them appear as if gentle waves, moving ever so slowly. Rising and falling. Mockingly.

The hall reminded me of my school assembly hall. I’m still not sure though if it was.
The light. Was dark. Pitch black to my eyes only I could see. 
The light. It was as if fluorescent. The kind of light that you would find in toilets at a mall.
You go to wash your hands. Look in the mirror and see 20 years into the future.
Every pot, wrinkle, freckle, dry flack, burst blueing irreparable cluster of veins.
You stand, staring at the reflection with revulsion.
Do I look like this now?
Yet, that is not truly my reflection. It’s the light.

It glows pale and hums. Old electric heaters sound the same. I can hear it. 
Maybe the way it refracts. Such a harsh light must slice through air. Sever it. Leave it thinner.
The light. The way that it seeps inside parched flesh. A sallow tint and vile shadows.
That was the light in the dark hall.

The hall reminded me of my school assembly hall. I’m still not sure but I think it possibly was.
It bounced. Off the frayed navy curtains and the bulk buy wood tiles with a diamond pattern. 
It bounced. Off jaundiced walls with sticky fingermarks.
I can see every scratch as if they were fluorescent themselves. Every speck of dust.
Parasites and dead moth wings are clear to me. They seem enlarged. Not clustered. Every detail of decay individual somehow.
I wonder why I’m recalling this dream. I can’t shake it. I don’t think it’s the dream that bothers me. Not that dank, dim hall that stays with me.

It was the curtains.
They moved so naturally, yet they didn’t seem so. 
I remember.
As they undulated back and forth feeling queer.

The hall reminded me of walking home on biting winter nights. Dark short days 
The curtains. They watched night appearing. They mimic its gloom shadows. 
The curtains. Every rustle, creak, crunch of dead leaf, pebble mistakenly kicked underfoot along the icy pavement in front of me. Magnified. Tuck my fingers inside pockets and twist. White knuckles balled into fists. I sensed something. Pressed mute. Looked behind me. Nothing. I pressed play. 
I remember thinking the shadows were stalking me. Eyes hidden to stare. Just watch.  
I stare back at bulging bins outside a block of flats putrid with rotten food. Nothing.
A hum of white static. That was the queer feeling when I watched the curtains in the dream.

I remember I looked for them. Eyes in the shadows. Eyes Hiding.
Behind curtains is a good hiding place. 
I regarded them, watched the rhythmic inhale then exhale. Chalk dust choking lungs.
Do I dare look?

The hall reminded me of that feeling. That queer feeling as it began to mutate. Multiply. Violate. 
The chalk. Surrounded me. It wasn’t chalk. It was derma taken without my consent.
The chalk. It reminded me of a spring I saw when I was 13. A mundane day. Dragging my heels;
tripping on sharp rocks, crushing parched pebbles into fine sand. Clutched my hair.
Filled the air with sharp fine white asbestos. Clung inside my blue lungs. Body parched. We reached the spring. I craned to see above my hostage takers matching rucksacks. Saw a tap.
A tap that’s been running for days. Years. Pressure slow. A mineral cleansed virgin snaked a path downward. She gets musty from chalk. Slicing scars into the rock with bitterness. 

I watch her descent until disappeared into a dank black hole.
That reminded me of when I played catch in the driveway, losing the ball down that overgrown dark hole at the left of the rust flaked garage door under the house. The driveway steeped;
a way to let rain pour away unseen through the gutter. I didn’t care! Let the basement flood!

The hall reminded me of that feeling. Black behind curtains. 
The black hole. Let the whole house flood if that’s what it takes!
The black hole. When I would have to retrieve that ball. Reached my hand.
The shadows of the drain pipe hid the tip of my fingers. A chill dread would infect me.
A snake sinking fangs into me, letting my own blood do the rest. That dread;
I would feel as if sunburnt. A warmth. A gradual cancer while you lie there and crust.
Except the blisters are cold. Burning ice venom tiptoeing up my arm freezing the blood.
I snatched. Blisters burst. Forgotten until the ball taunted me again to play hide and seek.

I watched, they looked heavy the curtains. I studied them intently. The way the breeze trickled slowly strumming invisible fingers along them. The air snaking through folds of faded navy. 
I thought it was dancing. Charmed. I watched as it slithered upwards bloated belly inhaling. 
It wasn’t. The curtains were shifting uncomfortably.

The hall reminded me of a disco we had at school. Stand shuffling feet and barely touching just fingertips on shoulders.
My shoes are shrieking. Leaving thin layers of black tar etched on the polished wood with a diamond pattern. Tips of my ears began to scold. I think they are all watching me.
That feeling I’m fire fresh timber with bone dry kindling. A pet store mouse taken home for a snakes dinner in a box. I can’t remember his name. I don’t care. My head ached.
I looked upward to gasp cool air while flames licked my face. I try to scrape the embers off. 
A fluorescent light is shining. It’s the one from my dream. 

I realise I haven’t moved. Apart from my eyes chasing the shadows away. 
I wonder if I tried I would turn. I’d see a door and run. Even if I tried would the doorknob be there?
Or are 1000 black arachnid pupils staring at me. A necrotic skull sockets empty just two black holes.
Daring me to touch it.

I remember those curtains. Rising and falling. Mockingly.
I’ve seen these curtains; I’ve seen this room. That smell should be ambrosial but my nostrils burn as I suck in dead, scentless air; I suck hard. If I were a flame I’d be blue. 
A stiff breeze lifts the curtains; curling their lips up at me. Mocking me. I’m behind the curtain.

Copyright © Cierra Thomas

Long poem by Voice of reason | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='Demons won't leave me alone'>

Demons won't leave me alone

I feel it in my heart, that awful need
Too unlock the demon that lies within me.

Over the years, I’ve heard their words.
Heard their scorn, felt their cords.
That bound me, keeping me locked away
Keeping me captive, keeping me as prey. 
My blood is only half, so they would say.

The demon blood within me, cursed by my father
Then there was the blood of a human, blessed by my mother. 
Together as one it proved to be
The half demon I was, that made me.

They feared what laid within my blood.
Trying to destroy my spirit whenever they could.
But for whatever reason, my spirit held firm.
Until at this moment, now it is torn.

Foolish men think they can stand, think they can fight
Against my demon blood, my power, my very might. 

My blood runs hot inside my veins
My spirit has become wild and untamed
My eyes are scorching, piercing, glaring.
My claws are slicing, ripping, tearing.

And there you stand watching my every move
Watching as I slaughter these men, watching what I do.
Your eyes hold both hurt and worry and seem to shimmer.
But there is something else, something that seems to glimmer.
You don’t try to run, you do not flee
Instead you cry out and run to me.
Your arms wrap about me, in your fear.
The death around me, it brings you tears. 

I feel their blood upon my hands.
You will die, you have no chance.
I will toy with you, like a mouse.
My souls on fire, it can’t be dosed.

I seek your life.
I seek your death.
I seek your blood.
Your final breath.

My fangs have sharpened.
My claws are long.
A desire to kill,
The will is strong.

Many are helpless and many will die.
But you stand firm and seem to defy.
My very nature.
My very goal.
My very self.
My very soul.

Your touch is gentle and seems to sting.
That unruly monster deep within me. 
Your warmth is binding, I must break free. 

I feel myself begin to fade
The darkness is clearing, with my hate. 

But my heart is dark and taint
And so again rises the hate
That bids me to spill your blood
To take away your life
To cease the beating of your heart. 

I dig my claws into your flesh
The blood begins to stream, wet and fresh.
The scent is overwhelming and fuels my desire. 
Fueling my hate, fueling the fire.

My lip begins to curl, revealing my fangs
I will feed on your blood, feed on your pain.
Your touch cannot save you
Nor can your voice
I can no longer feel you.
I have no other choice.
The hate that I feel is clouding my eyes
It binds me more than you’ll ever realize.

I seek your life.
I seek your death.
I seek your blood.
Your final breath.
I seek your pain.
I seek your will.
I’ll leave a mark
I’ll leave a chill.

Still you are calm and seem to know
That the hate within me is beginning to grow. 
Your embrace becomes stronger trying to fight
That burning desire that rages inside.

You pause a moment, your mind begins to race,
You’ve come to a solution and don’t hesitate. 
As you lean toward me slow yet sure
Your heart is beating fast but pure.
Your lips gently touch, firmly against mine
Trying to subdue, the demon that dwells inside.
My grip tightens, I will not give in
You can never calm, my demon within.

Inside I laugh, at your pathetic act.
You’d never love me, never accept
What I am, how I see the world
You’d only pretend, only even the score
Take my heart, is what you plan
And crush it then within your hands.

No, I won’t allow you to
Won’t fall into your trap
I will break from you
I will get myself back.

I seek your life.
I seek your death.
I seek your blood.
Your final breath.
I seek your pain.
I seek your will.
I’ll leave a mark
I’ll leave a chill.

Again, I sink my claws deeper into your skin
Causing more blood to flow, causing more pain.
Yet you never budge, never pull away
Your lips still against mine, as if to stay.
What is this, can this really be?
Could you really be trying to save me?
But why would you do that?
Why would risk your life?
How could you do that?
What is your reason why?

A flicker of hate flashes once more
For some reason, I can’t let go.
Your love is overpowering and seems so strong.
Your touch is comforting yet nothing seems wrong.
In my heart I finally know,
That you really must love me,
For so you have shown.
For if it couldn’t be true,
Then how could you?
Stay so loyally beside me,
All this time thru.
This change that I am cursed with
This hell that I live in. 

I can now let go, of that horrible desire.
I can now kill the demon, destroy the fire. 
Slowly my heart begins, to regain
The precious purities that I had lost, destroying all my pain.
My fangs are dull once more, my claws return to size. 
Then the darkness finally clears, from my open eyes.

Your eyes are shut, as you hold tight.
Never let go, you will win the fight. 
Now that I can see
That you love me
I won’t go back
Won’t fall for the trap.
I will always love you
Not matter what you do
For as you see,
That’s what you did for me.

I was about to kill you, drink your blood
You never left me, never would.

I feel myself begin to drift.
Soon I release, my awful grip.
Then on my mouth I taste your lips.
I am uncertain and cannot react.
Instead I close my eyes and let it go.

I let you hold me, let you free.
Let you go, to let you see. 
What your love has done,
What all your fighting won.
My heart, once again is pure.
My soul, because of you, is cured. 

Your eyes begin to open as we cease our kiss
Yet you still hold me, making our love still exist. 
Your eyes are worried and afraid.
Wondering if, I’ve really changed. 
I cannot stop the tears that begin to rise.
As I gaze into, those nervous eyes. 

Suddenly I pull, you into my arms
How could have I, ever caused such harm?
Through all that pain, all that hell.
You never stumbled, never fell.
So here can we stay, in each others warmth.
So here can we stay, and never be torn.
From each others love, from each others heart.
Couldn’t we just stay, and never depart.

I seek your heart.
I seek your touch.
I seek your voice.
I seek your love.

Copyright © Voice of reason

Long poem by cassie hellberg | Details |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her? 
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg

Long poem by Mary Oliver Rotman | Details |

Randomlings 1-33

Randomling 1:  Matthew Macfadyen

I believe I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen
He inspires in me a terribly bad yen
But as poetry goes
His name 'spires woes
Cause nothing rhymes with "Macfadyen”.

Randomling 2: Birthday Wishes
For my birthday, I would like a man.
I wonder---can you get one from a can?
Or maybe from a catalog?
Maybe I'll just get a dog.

Randomling 3: Yet Another Cat Poem

toddlers in fur
senior citizens with retractable claws
lions in their own minds
lunch in the minds of dogs.

Randomling 4:  Desert Woes

A sage river in a field of sand:
         so flows hope in a barren land;
                   the crippled heart in prosthetic steel,
                             hacked and scarred, a vulture’s meal.

Randomling 5:  Dark Poetry

Follow poetry to its source;
There find heartbreak and remorse.
Follow poetry to the bitter end,
And there find death, its bosom friend.

Randomling 6: Ode to Bananas

an underappreciated fruit
sentenced to banananality
because yellow is their long suit.

Randomling 7: Untitled  

this heart is closed to deposits.
There's no more room for pain.

Randomling 8: Untitled

My heart is sealed in a cold steel vault,
and I’ve lost the combination.

Randomling 9: Joyce Kilmer 2015

I think that I shall never see
A man as useful as a tree.
One has uses by the score;
The other one is apt to snore.

Randomling 10:  Bedtime Prayers

Now I lay me down to sleep,
A leaden heart is mine to keep.
If I should die before I wake--
Now there’s an offer I’d gladly take.   

Randomling 11:  The Devil Wind

Fury with a smoky tail
Eddies of destruction
Deceitful beauty, enchanting danger
Death sporting a makeover

Randomling 12:  A Boy's Best Friend

Your penis—it is not a toy
I told my little son.
O yes it is, he parried me
It's quite my favorite one.

Randomling 13:  Fault Lines

I have a bathroom mirror
that's grown faulty over time.
My reflection is no longer true;
it's developed little lines!

Randomling 14:  Shakespeare 101		

“To be or not to be. That is the question.”
--What question?
THE question!
--Whaddya mean, THE question?
Never mind.																		

Randomling 15: Christmas?

Peace on earth to men of good credit
Who give the gift of corporate profit
in the holy name of commercialism.

Randomling 16:  Musical Believer

Though my conscience sleeps,
wrapped in the Valium of
agnosticism, it awakens to 
the music of Mozart--
once more knowing God
by the sound of His voice.

Randomling 17: Vacuum

I didn't write a poem when you died.
The words would not come.
Perhaps I felt too deeply,
perhaps not enough;
maybe I died too.   10/06/01

Randomling 18: Insanity

Insanity is underrated
Its drawbacks,much overstated.
How else to do what you darn well please
And accomplish it with so much ease?

Randomling 19: Dog Day Afternoon

salt, waves, undertow
I don't know what's going
on here, but I'm HAPPY!

Randomling 20: Opposites Attract

i am matter---love, antimatter
never to meet save to explode
i am space, love is time
parallel dimensions never to meet

Randomling 21: Puppy Love

I ride a leaky newspaper raft
Adrift on the linoleum
Anxiously awaiting an
An attack of smelly
squirming happiness
covered in fuzz:
Puppy love.

Randomling 22: Newton's Poultice

Apple falls from tree
Newton (ouch!) takes notice
Comes up with law of gravity
while wearing a poultice
on the solstice

Randomling 23: Ticking

And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
while my life fell apart all around me.
Sweet memories faded to shadow
as my heart fell to pieces inside me.
And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
Relentlessly ticking, ticking
While my life fell apart all around me.

Randomling 24: Untitled

a mosaic assembled from
shimmering, glimmering
tiles of delight and
black-glazed stones of despair
interlocking snowflakes
in seamless beauty

Randomling 25: Seasonal Lament
Daylight shrinks end at both end as summer falls into the arm of winter. arm
Randomling 26: Untitled
I didn't want to love you.
Randomling 27: Pills Depression is days and nights curled fetal-like in a dark room, no interest in the world outside, idly wondering if there are enough pills in the bottle to kill you, then thinking it's not worth the effort to find out because you're dead inside already. Randomling 28: Guilt By Association Fresh morning light frames the cat, surrounded by piles of dirt and deceased plants, looking innocent. Randomling 29: Bell the Cat How do you give a cat a bath? Maybe you can do the math. All I know is she stinks to high heaven. And of us there are only seven. How many humans to bathe a cat? Definitely more than where we're at! Randomling 30: Muse
I want to write a poem using the word gossamer. “Gossamer.”
Randomling 31: Ripples
Canoes rock gently under the waxing moon. Black water ripples, painting a beautiful scene under the scented pines.
Randomling 32: Sunshine Waterfall I cleanse my face in a sunshine waterfall, luxuriate in a sunshine shower. Waterfall flow and warm me; sprinkle lemon drops through my hair. Randomling 33: Salon Treatment Hurricanes scour everything they touch, then rinse and blow dry.

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman

Long poem by Tristine Thomas | Details |

Never Alone

A young girl who’s lost & wandering in the darkness cries out

“If there’s a God out there please save me!”

The darkness replied with silence

But she kept listening so intently to the nothingness around her,

Clenching and unclenching her disheveled, fragile little hands

That eventually she wasn’t able to decipher the sound of her own breathing

From the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees around her.

Her mind was torturing her with traumatizing flashbacks

That she had pushed so deep into her brain hoping she would

Never have to relive those feelings again.

She could also feel the poking and prodding of every worry she’s ever had

Resurface and commence fire on her soul.

All she could think about was how lost, afraid, and miserable

She had become and wondered why it happened to her.

She’s tried fighting so hard to regain her hope,

And take control over her thoughts,

But one girl can only fight for so long after she’s endured what feels like

Years of trying to escape from quick sand

And never being able to get out.

She had become mentally and emotionally exhausted

After fighting in the most difficult battle of her life.

She had been bullied to the point where she would be forever damaged, and was

Constantly being criticized for how and why she took every step in her life,

Beat by her previous boyfriend

Multiple accounts of being a victim of sexual assault,

And lost her father.

When she was younger she was always smiling

And doing goofy stunts and talking in odd voices

Just to hear people laugh.

She loved making others comfortable around her

And feel safe expressing themselves to her.

She was always trying to understand the reasons behind people’s actions

Because she just knew

That if she could even slightly comprehend a person’s thought process

Then she could help them.

She could do her to best to relate to them.

She could save them.

A young girl that was once nothing but sunshine and happiness

Is now a young woman that feels there is no meaning in life

And that she will never be good enough.

The pain of her experiences has ripped her reality in half

And shattered all of her plans, hopes, and dreams into

Nothing but little fragments of the girl she used to be.

Eventually her body started showing signs of neglect

An arm full of raw and bloody slashes that are carved into her skin

That she hid because she was afraid of being ridiculed

For her different way of coping.

She only removed the long sleeves,

The stack of bracelets,

And the layers of bandages from her arms

When she craved the cold sting of

A blade slicing through her skin that gave

The release she’d grown addicted to.

She still tried as hard as she could to find something to rekindle her hope

And maybe resuscitate her spirit to get back on her feet

But her body started changing so quickly she became unrecognizable to

Even her closet friends within a matter of weeks.

She looked like she had been through hell and back,

Trying to survive and trying to find help in a place that ignores

Her attempts at getting the help she knew she needed

While the world told her she was at fault;

She put it all on herself so she doesn’t deserve empathy

And it was a phase she was going through she’d get over in a week

And she hurts herself for attention

so she’s an attention ****

She’s a ****

A Skank









                        She was reminded daily of all the things suddenly became

                        The second people knew of her vulnerability.

Her eyes were not sunken in and her hair thinner than before,

The saturation in her skin was receding more with each day,

And her bones were poking out from under her skin like a deformity

Or like her paper thin skin might rip any time she moved.

When she would look into a mirror and stare at her own reflection

All she could ever do was pick out her every flaw

And obsess over what she needed to change

In order for her to feel good about herself.

She hated herself and her appearance so much

She would get physically ill and her mind would

Attain, capture, and distribute thoughts throughout her conscious

Of how repulsive she believed herself to be.

She only felt relief from the thoughts obscuring her to think rationally

When she would isolate herself and proceed to damage her youthful body.

While kneeling over a toilet and forcing herself to vomit,

She tells herself to imagine the vomit as her feelings being expelled

From her body and aiding to numb the pain her heart was drowning in.

A young girl who’s lost and wandering in the darkness pleaded one last time

“If there’s a God out there please save me!”

She sat in the dark planning her final words

When something in the black emptiness reached for her.

She felt soul push it’s way out of her rib cage

Fleeing from her lifeless, cold body

And let herself be taken away in the arms

Of the God she knew had heard her all along.


Copyright © Tristine Thomas

Long poem by Terry Trainor | Details |

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,

Copyright © Terry Trainor

Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

Hot And Cold Comes The Night

LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION You must know I cried yesterday and I think I broke the world so I braided some words into twine planted some sweet and sour coated seeds I grew free standing expressions and then I joined them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST FIVE I loved you centuries before we were born. You lived in my dreams before I ever slept. When others wasted time picking flowers I waited for when it was time to pick you. Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner. You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space. Your desire for them would melt away the ice age. I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past. I want to be that magician who does not bother with illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden. TWO We were at the fair, joviality in the air. A memory filed, I was a young child holding balloons floating round like full moons in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine. If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt. Hope gloats, hope floats. either your way or just away. THREE sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot to walk barefoot........on the concrete path still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that. sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer... with all of my clothes on...I do it in the I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock... revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever SEVEN ours was a paper mâché love living in a cut out cardboard home with a macaroni art painted lawn and nothing real to call our own nothing solid that we could hold. we tried stacking lego bricks but you have to be able to pop your cheek to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build. the castle we assembled didn't pass the test. so much for fairy tales - hello reality check. we rolled the dice but our thimble went straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped. can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!" we fell through the bunny hole where i - jack fell ddddownnn nnnnnnn and broke my crown and you - jill came tumbling aaaaaaaaaaafterrrrrrrrrrrrrrr EIGHT it is a choreographed ballet our love stands strong legs at the base digging deep build roots delicate hands branched out reach high long slim fingers define twigs draw space the body of our trunk thick sweet filled music fills our human needs one sound wind pixies dance meticulously the air sunlight leaks effectively through dark spots lifts carries holds and shapes our smiles it is a choreographed ballet our love in sync our bodies their senses once immersed in I now us ONE I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch. NINE Always, no matter the roar or intensity of the storm how severe the attack even out of the norm Always, i offer my hand with sincerity aim to deal with it peacefully. Always! SIX then suddenly it hits like a swarm of locus. a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom. every bone stiffens, when I move, a sound of dead dried out forest twigs breaking against the boots of hikers echoes in the confined space of my skull. i reach for a pill slowly it dissolves under my tongue i wait and i wait and i wait ... my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap. i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive ...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive. FOUR there is a deafening hush... silently raging through the core of my existence...still...I am humbled by the light and the love I have witnessed in my brief on Earth there is a river...that walks at my side... walks with the same stride... April 14 2015 Armand

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Inception: Crying a River - Collab with Mikey part 0

You’re like a backpack, jam-packed with memories of High School’s fun times and hard times…I know I had weaknesses back then; in addition, I had strengths that I still lack
You carry everyone’s weight including my own…you crumbled into sand and I am a stone – a waste of space and I am used to jump rivers to rivers; I wish I can have no record of wasted time, but I have to forget about it and forgive myself for downfalls
You’re like a sponge – soaking in our stress and I was that one magazine, frozen with abandonment on the magazine rack 
I’m a distraction to you – you’re wasting valuable time…but don’t hesitate; come on, now – I know how it feels to feel alone, wandering around, never earning any cheerful calls
I’m writing words of self-centered feelings – logic and reason doesn’t exist in the misty midst of my frame of mind…
But these feelings aren’t as bad as committing an awful, pricey crime – I’m through with feeling guilty for crimes I’ve never committed in my life
These feelings come and go – I just had to confess 
I didn’t mean to delete your progress…but, this time – I’ll make it up to you by polishing you with extra grand bliss, not another stress layer; sorry, but there’s some issues to distress
Once again, like a hurricane, you blow into my mind
Which was once filled with happy thoughts so kind
Deliver me up from drowning in the river below me…
You say you love me; 
You never showed your true colors to me
I look at you suspiciously 
But you ran me over with your hate
Misery…I want to change for the better of things
Blessings never fade away…away…
In my mind’s eye…I see you sway
Today, I’m alone and awake
At the break…break…break…
Of dawn…suddenly, the sweet sentiments of blissful merriness are gone 
I’ll be gone…I’ll be fading to gray
I’m disappearing this sun-drenched day
You are like no other . . . the Father sends you XOXO’s
You’re like a mat – you’re constantly stepped on…with rejections and woes
I’m like YOUR unwanted tool – 
I screwed up your progress and acted like a fool
Right in front of you and I Pushed your Buttons at the wrong time; you proved me wrong 
‘Cause I accused you of being the guilty one, but you backed it up with proof that you were the victim all along…
Fine, I admit it – I’m the criminal by your side…
You’re drifting away, under the spell of your petrifying pleasure that disguises itself as a cure
You pushed me aside…and I felt under pressure beyond measure…you are cursed by the devil in the messed-up mirror
I closed my eyes…it’s too late – I’m corrupted and enchanted by your side
I rolled into the death cart
I realize that you’re the one I prize…I’m innocent in the eyes of many...I’ve cried
I’ve cried. I’ve cried. I’ve cried.
A river..a river……..a R.I.V.E.R.
Deliver me from bondage & my future’s a mightyyy blur
I guess deep down inside, I always knew you would (you abandoned me honestly) 
Still it hurts that you left without anything good (you left me with nothing heartlessly…)
YOU finally took heart
Once upon a splendid time, my young heart broke apart
I kissed the abyss of hopelessness
I need a piece of peace right now...and maybe a fraction of your satisfaction...
R I V E R bliss...
Drowns me with ecstasy's demise
I need someone or something to save me from the endlessness of my distress
You were the gold I truly, sincerely prize
You are to my heart-and-anxiety-filled mind a wonderful blessed surprise.
You make my long lost and forgotten heart and love rise
I bleed...the stains are left on my window were my living sacrifice
Don't seek me, I'm not tore me down with oblivion and negativity…the knives in your eyes pierced me...with never-ending dread
Stabbing my heart of hope with your hurtful lies of abominable hatred…we were higher than the clouds overhead…I can’t put these racing thoughts to bed 
I'll rise like a skyscraper...I won't be weighed down by gravity...
Oh no, not anymore – you won’t take away the precious tune of my heart’s melody
To say to me, carelessly, for what we were…our future was a mighty blur
Y-you left me like worthless trash – you didn't really care, I'm sure…
I’m sure there’s other fish in the sea…but, I will endure with life and try to find another cure
We were 1…whatever happened to that?
Who release the rat? Was that you, cat?
We are 2…what’s wrong with you? 
Why did you lose your other shoe?
There it goes again…. ……… 
With those worthless excuses in your brain
Face the consequences like a wo-man & hop into the tranquility train 
Refrain from driving me insane 
Or I’ll drive another mysterious lane
I slammed the abominable door shut…I still remain sore – you should of not of uttered those words…now, I shed the many tears of sorrow and pain…is there any hope in store?

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |


There did they go into the cyberspace
where none but the great of heart
have ever gone before
and they did find great pleasure unto the night
for it was a time of love and understanding
and she did say it is good.
And when they did awake unto the dawn
then he did see a mass onto his shoulder
that had not ever been there before
and he was sore afraid.
Then he did say unto his mate, whose name is Mae,
what is it that has aflicted me in the night
and bonded itself onto the very body of me?
And she did reply unto her husband,
I know not.
And so they did consider the mass
and it was firm and round as a gooses egg,
yet it was of the mass that was thrice the size.
So she did lay her hands onto the mass
and did say,
is it now with pain, for I have given it a great charge?
But he did reply, nae, I feel it not.
And so they did go with the coming day,
even as the sun was high, unto his physician,
who counseled with some of his own, as to the matter.
And they did touch, and poke, and wonder
at the mass, and then they did say
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But one of physicians did ask
of what great need do you have of this arm,
and the man did reply, it is not the one
with which I write my name.
And the husband, whose name is Fred, did inquire
as to how this mass ever came to be
and so has attached itself onto me?
And there it sits, as if bad things to come.
Then his physicians did reply and say
nae, it is naught to worry about
but we can remove it if you have the desire.
And the wife did say unto the physicians,
who were with great skill in the matter,
this he does have,
so the husband did say, it is so my desire,
I have great needs that it be gone.
But the physicians did reply
it shall be taken away in twelve days,
for that is the only time
that is not already spoken for.
And so they did agree.
Now when the night came and he did lay again with his wife,
there came a great trembling from deep within
his body, and he did shake to his very toes.
And she did say, husband, why is it that you shake?
And what is it that maketh your body wet all over,
as if a rain has fallen on the very place you lay?
And he did reply, I know not.
But he was with great fear and did wonder
as to what the mass could be.
And his wife did then say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But he did think on the matter and then did say,
this must surely be as unto a sign from the maker
that my time is at hand.
Surely my life has been filled with goodness
but has brought me unto this very day.
And she did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And as the day grew near,
but was even the second day unto the removal,
the husband did worry and say some more,
my life is at an end
for the very inside of me does now quake
and my hands tremble at the sight of the mass.
Yea, mine eyes cannot bear to gaze upon it
and it has become an abomination unto my sight.
But his wife did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
Then there came onto the tube, as if an omen
and a sign unto its own,
that a man had a mass and surely it had taken him away,
as if a robber had come in the night.
And he did grieve, for the day was almost at hand,
but did go unto his physicians and did say,
see how my body is wet and trembles at its' sight?
How is it that this thing has come unto me?
And what are the tingles unto my skin
is it what cometh from a lipoma?
But the physicians did shake their heads
and then they did say
you have the stress.
And so he did wonder at what they did tell him,
and when he looked, the mass was still there.
But the physicians did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And one of the physicians said
if it is not a lipoma, the betting is off.
And then the man did return to his home
but trembled in the night.
Now when the morning did come
and the woman reached for her husband,
she found his space to be empty
and wet where he had layed.
and she did say, husband,
where is it you have gone?
But she heard not a reply.
And so she did go into the bottom of the house
where she did see him hanging from a beam
and then she did cry.
And so the constable did come, along with the scribes,
but the wife was with great grief
and did say o! that my life has such dismay
because of the lump that has taken him away.
What manner of thing has fallen to me?
And the scribe, who was to tell of the matter,
asked of her, what is it that has made you grieve?
And then the constable did say
is it the mass, that has made your husband
to end his life?
And she did say, it was a lipoma,
and it was nothing more.
....© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Long poem by arthur vaso | Details |

This Poem May Kill Me, or Not

Notes: I am putting the notes upfront, suicide is no laughing matter, however, anything that makes it something that can be discussed I think is a good thing. Humor really is an aid to many an illness. Note the poem starts with a reason, when someone is at the point of suicide, there is NO reason. It is an illness like any other. Also inside humor  and innuendo is meaning. Enough said.

I went to the casino of love last night
I placed a bet on romantic seven
Lost all my chips, ain’t going to heaven
Broke me heart
Lowered head, I walked back to the car park

Next morning I woke up
Put a gun to my head
I can’t even win at Russian roulette

Need a change, to get away
Mending the pain or soul, some might say
Took a plane to Bengal
Ended up in beuruit
Walked right into the middle of a war or 2
Explosions all over, around me head
Thank god, soon I shall be dead
I saw a terrorist with a real mean look
I waved hello, shoot me, shoot me!!!
I am sure he would have given a chance 
But someone else tossed into him a lance
Seems even in a war I can’t make myself dead
Sadly I lost at even this deadly dance

Then an explosions tossed me sky high
Was i going to heaven, was this my grand demise?
No, I landed in the sea and just on time
For a cruise ship to save me, soul and all
Off too Florida it seems
Death sure has some gall

I was walking along a sunny beach
When all of a sudden two gangs appeared
One Cuban, one Mexican, they sure looked mean
Two gangs known as killing machines
Here is me smack in the middle
My lucky day, for how could I lose
Suicide was assured, come on, you know it
I yelled to both of them
I am DEA, and I think all of you queers are very very gay
That out to get me the bullet I wish
What the hell, they all dropped their guns and surrendered
I admit I was starting to be mighty offended

So now I have this Medal of Honor
For saving a community of drugs and plunder
I just can’t win at the casino of life
I can get myself killed no matter the plight

So back home I go
What the hell
I’ll fill the bathtub
And give that a go

You think I’m bragging or boasting of death
I am serious, this will work, why drowning for sure
What could go wrong? with such a fine plan?
All I want to be is a dead dead man

So yes, I fill up the tub with water and suds
I down some pills, some booze and some bud
I am drifting off, to my purgatory bliss
When I hear an alarm the wakes me
What’a darn bitch
The buildings on fire, ok I can burn in my sorrow
Except the bathtub collapses and doses the fire

I am a loser, this is for sure
They gave me Medal of Honor again
For saving all the seniors by making it rain
I am not dead, and I am not happy
Seems I can’t accomplish 
Even my death
Even this task I make a mess

Now I am curious, I have to ask
Have any readers killed themselves yet?
This tale that’s a mess, being alive is giving me stress
If not read on, it’s gonna get better
Someone I will succeed at this suicidal adventure

OK now a bridge I hear is a good place to die
Not to hard, you jump and say good bye
I can do that, doesn’t seem hard
So now I stand on a Golden Gate Bridge
Happy at last that life will be over

All of a sudden a huge shaking occurs,
An earthquake , oh lucky me maybe the bridge will collapse
Not to be and you know that now, it tosses me infront of a car
The car brakes and halts and honks its horn
Till it sees the crack in the road just up ahead
If not for me falling right right there
That car would be the one drowning in the ocean of despair

They jumped out and hugged me and kissed me with thanks
Apparently I saved an ambulance full of pre mature babies
You know what happens next, and don’t you go crying
Another Medal of Honor for me, a hero without trying!

What the hell I give up
This suicide profession is harder than you think
Hell I might as well go back to my whiskey and drinks
Live in the darkness, and pray that one day
Life has enough meaning that I wish to actually stay

So now that these ideas so dark and so deadly
I have discarded without hope, so now I will be friendly
I will join the world of human souls and laughter
Even if inside I still lack such basic character

No more silly ideas of death
I need to move on and make life the best
So off to the store, to get me some groceries
A new leaf I have turned and I confess to a smile
When I am crossing the street, I see to my horror
That I am hit by a bus, and finally no damn tomorrows

Copyright © arthur vaso

Long Poems