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absence abuse
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class clothes
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simile simple
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stress student
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Long Imagination Poems | Long Imagination Poetry

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Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                          SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                            (HER STORY)
                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Through conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...

                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--
                                                               faded from his day.

                                                         But oh his face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                           Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                             Such a heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                   She stalked his dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed by thoughts
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                              (HIS STORY)
                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                       he moved toward her, 
                                                           then had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call--
                                                          yet lost her face.

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town
                                                                      One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business tugs him
                                                                   Worlds...
                                                                     Seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous--
                                                            tho hard to place--
                                                   She's the tune he can't erase.
                                                               
                                                              a love so fierce
                                                              
                                                           Each night they tryst,
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                    grant them every lover's wish
                                                       
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him--
                                                           encased and blessed
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013


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....
FAT
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
repeating,
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?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
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,
FAT!!!!!!
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
FAT!
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...


Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/light_on_the_devils_chord___the_challenge_622720' st_title='Light On the Devil's Chord - The Challenge'>

Light On the Devil's Chord - The Challenge

My hair bristled in the crisp breeze
Excitement spreading throughout my body
Even the sudden cold amused my fingertips,
Tingles spreading through my hands and up my arms
Soon I would be there too. . .
In the murky shadows of mysterious malice
To see the claws and talons of humanity’s greatest foe
The Prince of Darkness—the Saint of Woe

The great seal remained closed as I stood before it
Not a peep was heard from inside

“Knock, and it will be opened to you . . . “

Lightly, my fist clunked three times upon the great seal,
And a horrendous echo resounded like muffled shrieks of suffering
Black ooze leaked out of the seal as I lifted my fist
A great closed pot of tender meat and chow boiling over,
The spicy hot substance steaming the long grass surrounding the well-like prison

Then a voice, like Queen Bee birth resounded,
Stinging me fiercely, body and soul, having me sway…
To a familiar song
I had listened to long ago:

“Iiiii… ain’t got no-booooooody…. 
And no-body cares…foooor meeee…”

The song continued as the seal opened fully,
As I began descending into the restless night of his voice
Both lulled and perturbed
The sumptuous layers of shrieks, his background band
Gurgles of thundering bass,
And strums of laughter from throats long wailing… 

“Aaaaaaaand.. I’m sad and loooooooonely… 
Won’t some-body…come takah chance with meeee..
Owhhh…?” 

In what seemed like an eternal moment,
I had landed in the very bottom of the boiling ooze
The music ceased, and the great seal slipped over,
Blocking the view of the stars. . .
Yes, above. . .now only darkness
As if heaven, to Satan, was hell. . .

He turned to me slowly, knowingly
A smile creeping on his filthy face, from ear to ear
A charming set of teeth, freshly sung mouth
Arrogant brow rising in mock surprise. . .
A gruff laugh escaped his lips as my heart beat faster
And I thought to myself,

“What have I gotten myself into?”
. . .
The words popped out of my mouth before my mind could object,
And he exploded in a fit of charming guffaws
I heard a sea of laughter follow his own
Even Death, in the far corner of prison, winked. . .amused

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years, 
Dearest Daughter of Eve. . .  I’m impressed . . . really, I am. . .”

“You are?”

His smile faded and his expression grew grim and cold
“Well . . . are you?”

I remained silent, and took a deep breath
What shall I say to the Devil himself?
Am I clever enough? Brave enough?

“Impressed, I mean. . .well?
Are you? 
I know you will not lie to me,
You wouldn’t dream of it. . .
You wouldn’t dream nasty dreams like times in your past days. . .
Or. . .would you. . .Daughter of Eve.
Would you dare. . .dream of me. . .”

I felt a claw hit me on the back of my neck
I remained still, my breathing cradled by the silence. . .
I moved closer to him, never blinking,
As his coal eyes burned deeply into mine

Suddenly, he was furious
“You dare give me silence, woman!?
After my years of devastating . . . tormenting my own, 
Just to see and hear them screech and tremble. . .
Of no aim but to crush this criminal quiet,
You…a woman of no power…or little to show, 
Come down to me, ME. . .whom you know hates you all. . .
You come down to me, The Almighty Devil of Hatred,
With your dull . . . infuriating . . . pathetic, disgusting. . .
Silence……?”

I sighed. . .
“I. . .I don’t know why I am here. . .with you. . .perhaps it is a test. . .a lesson. . .
But I do know what I want. . .”

His claw dug deeper into my skin. . .
“Oh, that’s a new one. . .
But you. . .hm, hard to play with. . .? I doubt it. 
Easy to trick. . .surely. . .
If there was a point. . .”

Deeper the claw dug into my skin, but my flesh refused to break

I smiled at him softly, and this seemed to disturb him completely
He looked at me numbly, an impassive stare
 Devoid of feeling and emotion

And I said to him,
“I want you to sing and play us a song you have never sung before,
Prince of Darkness. . .”

His grimy skin rippled at the opportune challenge. . .
His eyes drew out all confidence and pride swirling in the shadows
His smile, big again, fresh, and repugnant
He smelled of all things dead, and all things putrid

“Plug in the bass, Death.
I am going to dissolve this fluttery woman right where she stands.”

I stopped him, possessed with an idea
I bit my lip and removed his claw from my neck
Taking his hand for a moment, and pushing it to him

“One more thing, Devil.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. . .what is it?”

“. . .I’m singing with you.”

The demons roared in hilarity, as Death, 
Silent as always kept his composure

Satan tilted his head at me as the laughter died
He no longer contained his surprise
“You. . .want to. . .make music. . .with me?”

“I’ve got 40 days and 40 nights. . .don’t you be a killjoy.”

He smiled at me, fury and lust in his eyes
“Angel charms will not work down here, babe. . .
I rarely play fair. . . .but I never turn down a challenge.”

My strange purpose had surfaced at last
“Quit your stalling then, and turn up the music.”

--------------------------

Song reference: “I Have Nobody” specifically sung by Leon Redbone
**Please tell me what you thing guys! If you haven’t read the other parts, it might explain things a bit. This is going to be a major work, and I’d loved all the advice I can get. I am aware that collaborating with The Devil is a tricky feat, and I’d really love some input. Thanks for reading. Lots of love! –Oh, and also, I am thinking of changing the title of the work as well. Not sure what yet!


Long poem by Debbie Duncan | Details |

BY THE SEA

PART One,,,, as she saw it.


The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.
 It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way !

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
               
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  What ever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me , surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny  beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it .

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their  new born looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a prefect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest. Of a beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen a another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting  and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature , with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted  allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather then the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with it's fire. I felt the beginnings of ,,,,,,,,,,   

   

   Nov. 18 1992,,,, Short story I started to write, A friend ask if he could write from a males point of view.


Long poem by Maurice Rigoler | Details |

Beach Walk Part 1

My body refused another drop of sleep. 
Dawn was less than half an hour away. 
I sat at the edge of the bed, not sure 
what to do. A chilly April breeze squeezed 
through the window’s narrow opening. 
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and took in 
several more. Already in the predawn 
darkness birds were vocalizing as if 
competing with each other, with gurgles 
and trills in the best coloratura fashion. 
It was spring, coupling time and sex, that most 
pressing and demanding of urges. 
Inhaling more refreshing air, I thought: 
I’ll take a walk at the beach and watch 
the sun come up, a five minute drive. 
The town’s main street was just beginning to
accommodate the early workforce. 
By eight o’clock, the rush of cars and trucks, 
noise and fumes, would give Main Street its
congested look and smell.

The beach stretched in a gentle curve for half 
a mile from right to left. The first glimmer 
of dawn began to rise from the ocean’s
horizon like a primordial mist, separating
water and sky.  A cold breeze rolled off 
long rows of small, scrolled waves, breaking into 
lacy aprons of foam that fanned out over 
the sand in large half circles, then quickly 
absorbed into the wet sand, followed by
an endless retinue of others.

Above the horizon the sky appeared 
like a towering curtain whose hem began 
soaking up the rising light – as if I 
were in an opera house, its curtain tinged 
with stage lights and the first lethargic notes 
of Wagner’s Das Rheingold began to play.
Soon the morning had brightened into
a new day as I passed the new bathhouse 
with its turret-like towers at each corner. 

Straight ahead in the distance, I saw it
moving in my direction: a large dog
whose breed I could not as yet identify,
its pace consistent. Until now I felt 
relaxed and settled in stride and thought. 
Large dogs always disturbed me, so I broke 
my stride to an almost hesitant walk, 
trying to identify what kind of dog 
it might be as the distance between us 
kept closing and my anxieties kept
mounting. My gut instinct was to turn back
but I checked myself, fearing a sudden 
change on my part might launch the dog 
into a chase, then what? Instead I stood still.

As the dog advanced closer into view,
I now was able to discern its breed:
a German Shepherd, a male, and big. 
Then, at a distance of no more than 
a hundred feet, he stopped and we faced
each other. Still motionless, I grew tense, 
my skin growing taut, my body heating 
up as man and dog eyed each other, his stare,
I imagined, reflecting mine: nervous, 
suspicious, uncertain. Raising his nose 
into the sea breeze, he sniffed the air for 
my scent, but the wind was blowing 
away from him. In vain he turned his head 
from side to side, trying to catch the faintest 
scent of my presence. With mouth opened, 
panting, he stood his ground, never so much 
as wagging his lowered unkempt, wet tail.
The slightest wag would have relieved 
my anxieties considerably. Our gazes
still fixed on each other, I tried to read
his mind. Was he waiting for some sign
of reassurance from me, as I was from him?
A faint gesture, a soft whistle, something 
on my part that he might interpret as
friendly, nonthreatening. But I was 
too stiff, too caught up in fear to be that 
accommodating.

Time passed, just how much I couldn’t say.
Then he broke the standoff with a few husky
but halfhearted barks that quickly petered out 
to low-tone whines, as if he were annoyed 
at my stillness, what he might have perceived 
as my refusal or indifference to send 
even the smallest reciprocating signal 
to his presence; whereupon and impatient 
he took up his gait again, but now, 
it seemed to me, more cautiously and in 
more calculated measured steps. 

With now less than fifty feet between us
he paused again, turned his head from side
to side to catch my scent, his eyes knitted
in a puzzling stare. And within this narrow 
space, he at one end, I at the other, 
our eyes locked icily – two creatures from 
the same planet, yet world’s apart.

Here now, at close range, stood the object 
of my increasing fears; and for the first 
time I felt my dread for this creature 
strangely turning into fascination, 
even admiration – as much for the beauty 
of his physical form and bearing, as for 
the starkness of his strength and potential 
ferocity, for I still perceived the wolf 
beneath the dog, the ever hungry 
predator ever on the prowl: the large head, 
the perked up ears, the strong snout, the flaired 
nostrails, the mouth half opened, dripping
saliva, exposing teeth his ancestors once 
used to tear prey to pieces, the eyes blinking, 
craving sleep, yet bright with an intelligence 
almost as keen as a thoughtful human’s, 
all four legs wet, tired from an all night’s
activity, the matted tail hanging wet
with seawater as if  dejected.

(See Paer 2)


Long poem by ROGER SATNARINE | Details |

SANITY PART THREE

*A Poem of Rhyme and Acrostic in Support of Mental Health Awareness*

It is said in the land of the blind the one eyed man is king
Well given the aforementioned this should also mean the same thing
In the land of madness the half sane man would then be king
But his other half is insane now that must stand for something

Is a certain part of insanity acceptable sanity;
as part of one’s mental faculty?
Haven’t we seen the worst of humanity;
then the jury finds “temporary insanity?

Someone once said to me
As we discussed philosophy
Roger you must be mad a genius or a bit of the two
I said guilty of all three now may I ask this of you

Here is a little food for thought.
It eats like spaghetti so you’d need a fork.
Sanity and insanity are States of Mind; which one are you in?
And don’t say; “Just like me in the State of New York!”

My dear friends without further a due; 
here’s Jack explaining his stay to you.
While institutionalized he flew east and he flew west; 
they thought he flew over the cuckoo’s… oh heck you know the rest?
Now shall we proceed to the prequels acrostic?
I hope it explains those deemed a mental spastic

In order to bring awareness to that which may be perceived as odd or different by certain people in life; the following list of individuals should highlight how they have persevered through societies labeling of everyone’s own unique states of mind.

Abraham Lincoln/severe clinical depression
Albert Einstein/ dyslexia (speculated)
Alexander Graham Bell/ dyslexia
Angelina Jolie/ depression and self harm
Ben Stiller/ bipolar disorder
Billy Joel/ alcohol and depression
Britney Spears/ bipolar and post natal depression
Buzz Aldrin/ clinical depression (out of space in out of space)
catherine zeta jones/ bipolar II
Charles Darwin/ severe panic disorder
Charles Dickens/ clinical depression; bipolar disorder (suspected)
Dick Clark/ clinical depression
DMX/ bipolar
Donny Osmond/ clinical depression; social phobia
Drew Barrymore/ clinical depression; alcoholism, substance abuse
Edgar Allan Poe/ clinical depression (speculated); alcoholism
Elton John/ substance abuse and bulimia
Eric Clapton/ clinical depression
Ernest Hemingway/ clinical depression
F. Scott Fitzgerald/ clinical depression
Francis Ford Coppola/ bipolar disorder
Frank Lloyd Wright/ clinical depression
George Michael/ depression and fear
George S. Patton/ clinical depression; dyslexia
George Washington/ learning disability
Halle Berry/ suicide attempt
Harrison Ford/ clinical depression
Heath Ledger/ depression, anxiety and sleep depravation
Howard Hughes/ OCD clinical depression and psychosis both speculated
Howard Stern/ obsessive-compulsive disorder
Howie Mandel/ obsessive-compulsive disorder
Hugh Laurie/ depression
Isaac Newton bipolar disorder (suspected)
J.P. Morgan/ bipolar disorder
Jackson Pollock/ clinical depression; substance abuse
Jean-Claude Van Damme/ bipolar disorder
Jim Carrey/ clinical depression
Joan Rivers/ clinical depression; bulimia nervosa
John Quincy Adams/ clinical depression
Judy Garland/ clinical depression; substance abuse
Kurt Cobain/ attention deficit disorder and bipolar depression
Kurt Vonnegut/ clinical depression/bipolar
Larry King/ clinical depression
Leo Tolstoy/ clinical depression; hypochondria alcoholism; substance abuse
Ludwig van Beethoven/ bipolar disorder
Marie Osmond/ clinical depression, post-partum
Marilyn Monroe/ clinical depression/ questionable suicide
Mel C: / depression
Mel Gibson/ bipolar
Michael Phelps/ attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD)
Mike Tyson/ depression severe insecurities and anger
Nelson Rockefeller/ dyslexia
Ozzy Osbourne/ bipolar
Pablo Picasso/ clinical depression
Paul Simon/ clinical depression
Princess Diana/ Bulimia nevosa, depression and multiple suicide attempts
Queen Victoria/ clinical depression
Ray Charles/ clinical depression
Richard Branson/ dyslexia
Richard Dreyfuss/ clinical depression/bipolar
Robin Williams/ clinical depression, learning disability
Rodney Dangerfield/ clinical depression
Roseanne Barr/ multiple personality disorder obsessive-compulsive disorder; clinical depression; agoraphobia
Sigmund Freud/ clinical depression (IRONIC)
Sir Elton John/ bulimia nervosa; substance abuse, alcoholism
Sting (Gordon Sumner) / clinical depression
Ted Turner/ bipolar disorder
Tennessee Williams/ clinical depression
Thomas Alva Edison/ dyslexia
Tom Cruise/ dyslexia
Uma Thurman/ depression
Vincent van Gogh/ clinical depression; bipolar disorder (speculated)
Walt Disney/ dyslexia
Whoopi Goldberg/ dyslexia
Winona Ryder/ clinical depression; anxiety
Winston Churchill/ bipolar disorder; dyslexia
Woodrow Wilson/ dyslexia
Yves Saint Laurent/ clinical depression

Are they all you; me;

 them; us; …we?

~ROGER CHAD SATNARINE~


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

My Robotic Fantasy

Livin’ in filth…
Flippin’ out on everyone…
Pow! to my head. Pow! to my head.
Hand me a gun…gun…
Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

I put my mind into my work
Sorry for acting like a total jerk
That’s so abserk
Stressed out
Dry as a drought
But, I fought the battles that were wondering in my head
The attitude of gratitude drench me not with dread

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Nervous reaction…I talk with no action…
My dreams will be fulfilled with satisfaction…
Give me a fraction of your satisfaction…
GIVE ME A FRACTION OF YOUR……….satisfaction…..
Satisfaction…
Shun out the light of the moon
Happiness will hunt me down soon

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Society splintered my hope…
I was addicted to you like people hooked on dope

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Decorate me with the finest gold
I am young, yet I have a mind of an old, old
Man, why does this pain drive me into insanity?
Can I be free for once in a lifetime?
Fairies dance before my eyes…
Flowers bloom before my eyes…
The grass is greener on the other side…
Stay by my side…don’t subside from my side, my beautiful bride
I’m crucified by these scars on my body…
Everybody stares at me…………….me…………me……….
Put a stop to this sorrow in my heart…
It’s ripping me apart…and I’m drifting in the death cart
Breathe into me your sunlit glee
Breathe into me your bittersweet envy
Breathe into me good traits from the Lord
He struck a chord within me…an accord I can’t afford

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Drive this pain away from the scars I have on my skin
Shedding awful thoughts of suicide from within

*whisper* I want my own family
To smile with them gladly
Prescribe me happiness from up above
I’m 17 years old and not acting my age…fly away, dear beloved dove
Nervouscited as hell’s fire, coursing inside of me again
Drowning in my tears again…let the journey of life begin
Getting rid of golden….desire….
You dumped me in the trash bin…let the fire
Burn your soul to the ground
Like ashes, you fall without a sound

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ a robotic fantasy
Relivin’ God’s way of life
Forgetting the past’s strife…
It slices me open like a knife

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?
*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie? Why do I cry? 
Why do I hide from my obsessions of plenty?
Don’t you see the roaring sea?
Please, God, hear my plea………
My grief-stricken, faithful plea……..
Heal me
Steal away the pain
I was the thief in the night
I was watching the scenes of temporary lust –
The pornography of life turns to dust
My heart yearns for You alone
Don’t gnaw at me like a dog with his bone 

Hold on, dear friend
The pain will have its end


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

That Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…


Long poem by Edmund Woods | Details |

A God of His Own

My physical self is pitiful

I have been incapacitated since an early age

Inadequate in every regard

My body is a useless shell

Luckily, this place is beyond basic physicalities

This place transcends the grim and darkness of reality

This place is my world

I am the creator of this realm

I am Alpha and Omega

No longer do I answer to the call of another God

Now, I can correct prior transgressions

And eliminate the pain that made that world flawed

Man

My iteration of man shall be eased of suffering

They will not have to plead with their God

As I have

I was useless

A joke for the ignorant

A burden for the willing

Never again shall there be ignorance

Never again shall life be a burden

Life is a gift

A most precious gift

There

Well, I must admit, I do need some more practice

But in time, humans will be my angels

Animals

The world needs more than only man

An ideal ecosystem

A cycle of life of death

But death shall be quick and painless

And their lives will be treated with respect

Hand in hand- excuse me- Hand in paw

Animals and man shall work together

To maintain balance in this world

Balance is essential

Nature

To complete this world, there must be laws

Laws incredibly similar to the ones of my past world

But, there shall be new laws

New laws that the universe must abide by

One: Killing will never be sport

Two: Destruction of my world by the hands of man

Shall never take place

Three: All life is in control of their life

I never had control

I was always a puppet

A figurine on display for the amusement of others

Never again

Sovereignty is guaranteed, disease will be ridden

The cosmos

Perhaps the most important part of my world

It contains the mysteries of the universe

And maintains the order of nature

The secret guardians

The hidden monoliths

No one knows their true purpose

Some just like to stare

But they are my titans

There to look over mankind

Well, this is my world

What do you think?

I say it’s beautiful

Some may say it’s superficial

That imperfections and true pain 

Can never be suppressed

Even by a God

I assure you, this world is perfect

I have not made the same mistakes

I know the evil of that world

That evil has died with this creation

Is it not pure evil that I was a spectacle?

That I couldn’t use my body?

It was a damn trick

It was cruel

To have such a functioning brain

But useless because of my dysfunctional body

I was a waste in that world

But when I discovered I could create a world of my own

I knew there was still hope

My mind was merely a playground

Now, it is a field for creation

A place where life will begin anew

Life will always live in happiness

Misery is nonexistent

Man is perfect

Man will always be useful

Animals are not only tools

They are integral to the purpose of this world

Nature shall never again pull cruel tricks

It will maintain the perfection that I have created

There will be no bickering amongst the stars

The cosmos are there to protect man

From everything that destroyed me

I never want mankind to suffer again

I have been through too much suffering

I have seen too much suffering

This world will be perfect

It gives me hope

Hope that no one else

Will ever experience what I have

But I am no fool

I know that when I die

This place will die with me

This is all just in my head

All I want is a haven from that worldly misery

The same worldly misery

That made me resent God

What is the purpose of life

If that’s the kind of life some may have?

I would have killed myself long ago

But I can’t even express my desire to do so

I hate myself

I hate the world I live in

I want to die

Hell awaits me

For I have been blasphemous

I have cursed the life I was given

While I still curse my life

I am joyous for those given a happy life

Never forget

Life is a gift
A most precious gift


Long poem by Therese Bacha | Details |

A White Sheet Of Paper Part I

                       "A White Sheet of Paper."  Part1

Once upon a time I was a white sheet of paper
Pilled between hundreds on a shelf my neighbor 
For years was an old stapler.

I was full of life yet dreading never to find myself 
A home where I would achieve all my dreams 
With someone not all alone.

Suddenly I heard a murmur of a low sweet voice
Asking the sales man where he can find white
Sheets of paper closer and closer he approached 
I was praying to be chosen.

When Oh! I was in his hands pulling me from 
The pile between thousands relieved to run away
I quickly said good bye to the shelve 
I could no more stand.

My blood felt warm like after a cold winter storm
Abiding by a chimney opposite the fire.
I was thinking who is he? Where does he live?
Will he posses me? Will he become my master?
Will he take me for a ride forever to abide
Or would I be used just like a scratch
Piece of paper.

My heart stopped beating for a while thinking
All the memories of my past and the future would
Just vanish depart my end in a waste paper basket
Carried away like a dead man in a casket
And thrown in a background of a graveyard.

No; I was carried by him and feeling his strong hands
Inside of me came a glimpse of hope I felt secure as 
I wanted to belong to someone for long.

Feeling assured for the very first time happy 
Within me and with him I saw him smile while 
Walking that mile to where his car was parked 
I promised myself to comply day and night I 
Will be on stand by forever.

His radio Came on with a Melody of Waltz
Rocking in the car My fate was still Unknown.

Than he stopped assuming we arrived to a 
Home or an office he gently carried me up the stairs
Opened the door I looked inside and at last I shouted 
We are all alone we were in his home will it be mine 
too one day.

With much caring he placed me on a huge big desk 
It was a mess magazines and books an ashtray that
Was not emptied for days.

I noticed next to me was a crystal white vase filled with 
All sorts of brushes still stuck on them multiple colors of paint.

That was when I realized oh my lord! I will be famous
My master was an artist from joy I was going to faint as
My thoughts pictured a frame and inside it one day I will 
Be born I will exist created by my master I will hang on a
Wall and will be admired from the soul.

The warmth of the room filled my heart I was getting tired 
Wanting to relax while turning my head before closing my
Eyes I noticed many paintings hanging on the wall 
From the ceiling to the floor.

I got jealous and ready with a deep sigh to whisper and beg 
My master to create me in an image of a dazzling woman
Surround me with such beauty cover me with colors
Pour on me paint and make me look like a wild saint.

Taken by my inspirations to provide him an identity
I felt his strong hands holding me opposite his eyes and
Pressed me on the desk and that was when I felt it hurts
Then a second pain followed by a third and fourth pain i 
Could not move I lost my breath trying not to cry I felt
I would die.

But not very long as I already knew my fate
Being a white sheet of paper I had to be pinned 
on the Table for me to remain motionless until 
his creation is terminated.

I was stunned when I saw a pencil in his hand
Smelling his perfume when he was tracing my face
It started to feel round small ears for future earrings
My nose was tiny he started with my eyes than he 
Stopped.

I felt him fixing and concentrating on the spot where 
He will create my eyes excited as I loved him when
I was blind and now he will unbind the bandage 
off my eyes.

To see him more to love him more to follow him 
Everywhere to watch him laugh and cry to see him 
Dress and undress caress his body with my Eyes.

Watch him drink and think eat sitting down or standing up
Amazed awaiting his decision to start by reviving my 
Inner soul and create me as his woman I was craving 
To have green eyes.


To be continued.part 2
                                         Terry


Long Poems