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Bugger - Her Response

17th July 2015

Last night my missus gave me some oysters for tea
Was I in for a night of rip snorting whoopee?
I showered and shaved trying to smell like a stud
Her half dozen oysters must have all of been duds.
Things were desperate so I engaged in foreplay
What old men do when they want a roll in the hay
I groveled I pleaded, even whined like a dog
But for all of my efforts all I got was a snog.
So should she ever give me a little blue pill
I now know it sure won’t be for an evening of thrill.

Her response

So you’re disappointed
That all you got was just a snog
How about make an effort 
Stop smelling like grog
I don’t care for begging,
And sexual wee stirrings
Have a shave and a shower, 
That'll start me concurring.
Now take your hand off my breast, 
Just help me cook the kids tea
Grab the vacuum, do the house, 
That’ll be enough foreplay  for me
Hang out the washing, 
Then feed the pets. 
Do homework with the kids
Please now go make the beds, 
Scrub all the pots, 
Make sure you do the lids
Thank you my dear, 
Your help was just great, 
It's nice just not to nag
What! What do you mean? 
You’re too tired for a shag?

28th September
Silent One's Competition
In response to my first poem

Copyright © Mark Woods | Year Posted 2015

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Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's Love Poem

I love how your long chestnut hair flows over your gentle shoulders,
And when the sun searches you out for a moment, your hair sparkles…

Because I lit a match and threw it into that rat infested hair ball that you
Waste all your time on.  Next up is your head which I’m going to rip…

Don’t listen to him.  I’m mesmerized by your deep blue eyes, when they lovingly
Gaze In my direction.  I will never make you shed a tear, my dear…

But I’m going to kick you about this filthy house.  It looks like all you’ve
Done all day is piss in the wind.  And stop your crying; your baggy eyes are…

Ignore him, my love.  Your soft, gentle touch upon my face arouses my senses to new Heights.  All my cares wash away as your aquiline hand slowly glides along my arm…

What the hell does he know?  If you don’t get your boney hand off me, I’m going to break it In half.  And the next time I catch you trying to be nice I’m going to throw you out with…

Stop that, Hyde.  Sorry, my love, but as I was saying, your body is a masterpiece sculpted out of the finest treasures.  I’m in awe of its supple curves, how it flinches to the touch…

Oh, shut up Doc, you’re killing me.  And speaking of killing, I feel like pummeling
The living daylights out of your emaciated, piece of good for nothing…

Please be mine baby, before I’m lost forever to…

I’m in charge, so get over here and take it like…

I’m fading, my love.  Hurry, say you’ll be mine.  Save us.

I’m going to tear you apart.  You’re no baby, you’re a…

Save me, before the monster wins…

Too late, Dr., she will be all mine soon…

Just a kiss, my dear.  Just a…

‘Slap’, take that b****...

One kiss.  Now!  -The Dr. and his lover kiss-  Thank you, my love.  Let that vile 
Monster rest in peace, so that we will be left in peace from it for evermore.

Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013

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To Pass or Run

One minute left on the clock
Four points down, championship at stake
Third down, five yards from the goal

Hefty defensive linemen gritting teeth

Do you run the ball?
     or pass?

Quarterback fakes a hand-off
Linemen not fooled, scatter to block receivers
Quarterback sneak wins the game!

*For the "Pass" contest.  Probably only football fans will get this one.

Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010

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Thanks for the Memories

I try so hard to keep my eyes open.
Try so hard not to see the past,
What you did to me,
Turning back into the helpless child looking for mommy or daddy.
You tell me I was wrong, you must punish me, I cry,
It hurts, what did I do?
You don't know how to answer, only what to do.
Now I have nightmares and in the darkness I see the damage you have done,
Do you know how long it took to fix my mind from all the damage you brought on?
Did you have kids of your own? Did you touch them too?
Have you died yet, are you burning in the hell you put me through?
If only there was a way for me to get to you
Cut those evil hand off and play guys who.
Now I suffer from images of things I can't change
And grow from the dreams of the man I'd love to hang.

Copyright © Janet Runyan | Year Posted 2015

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SHADES BELOW a tale of eternal love

Neel gazing deeply into Misha's eyes
intimate time of love
Misha is resting her head 
dreaming in Neel's lap
wrapped and protected 
warmth of his love
Neel caressing  her head
loving all hived in his heart
over the ages after separation
sharing sweet eye lock
sat Neel and Misha
enticed by each others charm
relive those moments of love
Neel then puts his hands on Misha's
grips it in his strong one's
telling he is there 
now together ever forever 
Misha blushes as all this happens 
sudden loud trumpet is heard
disturbs the peace of mating two
Neel took his hand off Misha's
she sits troubled on
why this happened 
Neel other hand gets up on a fit
marching towards the place
leaving lonely Misha behind

a glimpse taken from my autobiographical fiction 
SHADES BELOW (reunion of Neel and Misha)
Neel_majestic man of my dreams

Copyright © Anita sharma | Year Posted 2015

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Billy, ThePlayer

Whoa! A dog walker at three o'clock, damn, super bad,
and a most very pretty woman also I might add, 
a pretty woman who loves dogs, something we share in common.
Opportunity is knocking, time for TheKidster to do his thing.
''Does your dog bite?'' I ask the pretty woman walking her dog,
She says, "She has never bitten any human or any other dog." 
The dog almost took my hand off when I went to pet it. 
''I thought you said that your dog doesn't bite!'' to her I said.
''This isn't my dog,'' she said winking, "now kindly drop dead."

Copyright © Billy TheKidster | Year Posted 2015

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Lying in a darkened room; clutching at her breast;
She thought that when she come in there; she might get some rest.
Emanating perspiration; from her shoulders and her neck;
Cloths all thrown about the floor; and the blankets are a wreck.

Thinking in her mind; can't you hurry up;
My eggnog's spiked and ready; and sitting in a cup.
Ho-ho Merry Christmas; now get your hand off of my boob;
Isn't there a football game; plying on the tube.

Sitting in his favorite chair; paper there in hand;
Over in the dinning room; the Misses makes her plans.
 She shows to him a catalog; of things that she might like;
 And don't forget our johnny boy; says he wants a bike.

Thinking in his mind; how about you get a job;
And maybe lose a pound or two; you're looking like the blob.
Time to light the furnace; winter now is here;
But never mind the extra cost; Christmas time is near.

I saw  this fellow Santa Clause; working at the store;
I bet his little misses; keeps demanding more.
Ho-ho Merry Christmas; a blessing to us all;
A well rehearsed distraction; until the tax man calls.

Copyright © Leonard Taormina | Year Posted 2007

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Do Not Disturb

I must hang a “Do not Disturb” sign
On the door of my heart.
My heart is troubled enough as it is.
Do not disturb.

Oh please...just walk on by
The resident inside
Is in an induced blissful sleep 
Do not disturb her slumber 
for perhaps.....
in her solitude...
She has found her haven.
Do not disturb!

Do not disturb her...
With your lies
With your alibis
With your flattery
With your mockery
With your demands
With your commands 
Do not disturb

Hush now....
Take your hand off the latch
Tread softly
For I wish to sleep
And not to weep
Do not Disturb...
All is peace within
To disturb is a sin
I’ve found my sanctuary
Safe from harm
And deceptive charm
Let me be...
Do not disturb
Do NOT disturb
My heart is in recovery!

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2012

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Ringing in The Cloud

They have been mentioning using Mobile Phones whilst driving on the local BBC Radio Station. I had the urge to write the following,. As I have been struck off their page I wont be able to send them a copy, will I? Sad or what? lol

Ringing in The Cloud!
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad Author
& A Poetry Soup honourable mentioned poet. 

Can you hear my mobile phone?
I’m sure I heard it ring.
I only took one hand off my steering wheel.
To answer the blinking thing!

Now I cannot hear a ring.
Up in the cloud, where I be.
I’m sure I heard my mobile phone.
Now I can’t hear a blinking thing.

Please if you are driving concentrate on that and stop being tempted to answer your mobile. Hand's free kits are better as you keep your hands where they should be working the cars controls and there are enough of them. Stay safe everyone so at the end of the day you can return home or wherever you are heading. Police are issuing 6 points on your licence plus a fine so be wise. Stanley.

Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2017

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My eyelids droop my head begins to nod
I am struggling hard to stay awake
On a long drive in the pouring rain 
I feel I am being hypnotized 

I am struggling hard to stay awake
I turn the air conditioning on full blast
I feel like I am being hypnotized 
I will just close my eyes for a moment

I turn the air conditioning on full blast
Taking my hand off the wheel I slap my face
I will just close my eyes for a moment
As my car drifts I awake with a start

Taking my hand off the wheel I slap my face
I must be mad yet I need to get home
As my car drifts I awake with a start
I am no longer traveling on the road 

I must be mad yet I need to get home
The car is now beyond my control
I am no longer traveling on the road
In this moment there are no more choices

The car is now beyond my control
On a long drive in the pouring rain
In this moment there are no more choices
My eyelids droop my head begins to nod

On a long drive in the pouring rain
My life blood pours from my veins
My eyelids droop my head begins to nod
My life slowly yet quickly ebbs away

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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Take Heed of the Garden

He's rolling along the blacktop,
Rolling past Flora's crop,
Like a disinterested wind,
A Zephyr without a clue... 

He doesn't stop to take notice, 
It's just one foot before the next,
Placing his worn out size twelve
Atop a sweet daisy...

His touch is rough, and,
Better fit the for handling the
Painstaking labors of life
Than cultivating flowers in the garden,

Some men take pleasure in plucking lilies!
They are the farm hands who reap your fields!
Other men specialize in sowing seeds,
They are those who recognize the flowers' needs...

He's not so handsome as Narcissus,
But knows well, how to piss a goddess off!
He laid to waste and wilt many flowers
And soon gained the title of 'invasive weed'!

He has no place in the garden,
No knowledge of the flowers' anatomy,
His touch is too rough to the pedal
He can't keep his hand off the pistil 

Pluck the weed
That cannot heed
The need of a flowering seed
Out of my garden she decreed

Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2009

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regifted verse

here's a few nibbles,
a chosen few lines of 
cellophaned offerings
not bought or made 
by me, but perhaps
fruitful nonetheless

given last holiday
in a heavy-versed book
to look at thoughtfully,
wonder at the imparted 
intent, then pass on

to you the nut-laden lines
that someone's aunt 
cooked up, every single
year since her mother first
showed her the directions

and the smiling recipient
re-wrapped it with a 
handwritten note to
hand off to another - 
and in turn another,

until, now you see me,
sitting before you,
smiling tentatively,
while both hopeful,
and apprehensive

contemplating acceptance
with a soulful pocketing,
or yet another, itinerary
change of regifted verse
that I wrapped just for you

© Goode Guy 2013-07-16

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2013

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                           No dreamer, it's not right, not how you wish it to be.
                           Stale air inhale exhale, continue to question everything,
                            And everyone, hold no exception to yourself.

                            No conclusion reached or hypothesis proven.
                            You are called a fool, blind you are to reality,for only you
                             cannot see, it's not going to be ok, life is not going to
                             Just go on.

                             Its bright, red and simply raw. This shade of black is 
                             darker, deeper unbearable, an unknown unbearable abyss.
                             What direction, which way, spinning out of control.

                             Stripped of everything, never knew it was possible,
                             glass shattering, piercing, loud, detaching from 
                              Everything and everyone. never been a part of it all
                             Illusion is exposed! Now exhale
                             Inhale, veil removed, no boundaries all is renewed.
                             Restoration is at hand, off in the distance, yes it's visible now.
                             Calming, healing, loving lifting me up.

                             By my side, walking silently, strong omnipresence,cradling, loving, protecting
                             safeguarding that which I thought was forever lost, my heart.

Copyright © Yvonne Roberts | Year Posted 2010

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Her Personal Curse (Part One) *warning, graphic in nature*

In a drunken stupor, I fall down on my comforter
Baby blue sky covered in fluffy clouds of cotton.
I kick off my shoes, faded pink chuck Taylors
And make clumsy work of my shirt buttons.

I slip an oversized shirt over my head, Bart Simpson,
And pull it straight passed over my bra and panties, past my knees.
Now in the dark, on my bed, I hear the door creak open.
I turn to see your silhouette, and I hear the door behind you locking.

I sat up, before you lunged on top of me, and smacked me in the face.
I tried to push you off, but a little girl is nothing against a man.
Fear pinned me down with your arms, the look in your eye was crazed.
I yelled out as you punched me again, before stifling my breath with your hand.

I felt your fingers probe underneath my shirt, rough and groping.
The straps tore at my flesh as you ripped my bra apart.
I tried to push your hand off my face, I was having trouble breathing
But when you took your hand off and I gasped for air, it fell back against my cheek hard

I stopped trying to push you away, tears streaming, afraid you’d hit me again.
I bucked when your course fingers pinched, it only seemed to excite you more.
I cringed as you raked your nails deep down my stomach digging in.
You stopped at the top of my panties before yanking them till they tore.

Panic sliced through me as I felt you unclasping your jeans, understanding swept me.
I knew then what you intended to do and my blood ran cold at the thought.
You took your hand off of my mouth and threatened to kill me if I screamed
But I yelled anyway begging for help, preying that you would be caught.

I was silenced by a stinging blow that sent me hard against the head board.
Too disoriented by it to yell again before you were done taking off my t shirt.
Through blurry eyes and mind I felt your eager hands pillage and explore.
I was smacked again for screaming at how badly your fingers inside me hurt.

You showed no mercy as I screamed in pain against the palm of your hand.
You only continued to probe and play, talking dirty to me, making me talk back.
Through bloodied lips and wrenching pain I was abused by this man
He made me say unmentionable things about him, while he cruelly laughed.

Copyright © Tamra Craft | Year Posted 2009

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Psalm 39

The psalmist makes a promise or two
to guard his mouth and his ways
holding his tongue so not to sin
when the wicked presence stays

But finds it so difficult to do
for fighting within is burning fire
causing his distress to grow worse
now he speaks to prove he's no liar

O Lord show me my life's length
show me the shortness of it all
you've made it only a breath or two
so my life is in a long stall

My hope is in the Lord to wait
so from my transgressions deliver me
remove your very heavy hand off
make my prayer's answer to see

Sojourn with you I will continually
despite my tears let me know peace
look away so I can again smile
before my life here will cease

I said, “I will guard my ways,
   that I may not sin with my tongue;
I will guard my mouth with a muzzle,
   so long as the wicked are in my presence.”
I was mute and silent;
   I held my peace to no avail,
and my distress grew worse.
    My heart became hot within me.
As I mused, the fire burned;
   then I spoke with my tongue:
“O Lord, make me know my end
   and what is the measure of my days;
   let me know how fleeting I am!
Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths,
   and my lifetime is as nothing before you.
Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath! Selah
    Surely a man goes about as a shadow!
Surely for nothing they are in turmoil;
   man heaps up wealth and does not know who will gather!
“And now, O Lord, for what do I wait?
   My hope is in you.
Deliver me from all my transgressions.
   Do not make me the scorn of the fool!
I am mute; I do not open my mouth,
   for it is you who have done it.
Remove your stroke from me;
   I am spent by the hostility of your hand.
When you discipline a man
   with rebukes for sin,
you consume like a moth what is dear to him;
   surely all mankind is a mere breath! Selah
“Hear my prayer, O Lord,
   and give ear to my cry;
   hold not your peace at my tears!
For I am a sojourner with you,
   a guest, like all my fathers.
Look away from me, that I may smile again,
   before I depart and am no more!”)

Copyright © Gordon McConnell | Year Posted 2016

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I love the sound of vases splintering on the floor 
I adore the music of my anger hitting the door to rebound
And resound in our ears
Echoing and crashing on my newly mopped floor
Tinkling broken china makes me feel like I’m in control
Each shard is revenge cutting into your soul
              You deserve it [yes sir, you do]
Look at what you did to me
           [the hurt in my eyes]
                                             [The rage in my heart]
                                                           [The sadness in the folds of my hands]
[I’m hurt, I’m broken]
Like the china on the floor
Never to be put back together
Quite the same again

Take your hand off my wrist, boy
Who are you trying to convince?
You don’t need me, remember?                            Go home
                                                               [Knock over things in your apartment]
                                                                 [Tear down the curtains in your rage]
                                                      [Rip all the pictures of us and throw them away]
                                                    [Pound the pillows, Speed in your car, curl your fists]
                                                           [Crawl to that girl you messed around with]
                                                                         I don’t care, I don’t care
Because I’m sick and tired of you
Coming home with her lipstick on your collar 
Her perfume reeking
All over my sheets               while you sleep 
                                                      next to me
                                                            [You lying piece of garbage]

Get out of my house,
You obviously don’t belong to me
Your a stranger 
You might sleep in his spot
And still drive his car
And smile his smile with the dimples that I love

But your not him
He would never hurt me
And I’m so hurt,                              [ I’m so wounded, I’m bruised and battered]
Like a shark you chewed me up and spit me out
On the floor
Like a broken vase
Never to be put back the same              [But instead just a bit stronger]
[With the best glue in the world, experience] 
[To hold me together even better]
And afterwards, guys can throw me around
Devour my heart and dissect it five times over
And I’ll never break again                      [They don’t stand a chance]

I’ll never break, baby

Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007

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You're trifling,
you're lazy as can be
You can't even take care of your own slothful self,
how in the world are you gonna support me
Hey, mister lazy bones,
I know you don't like hearing this bad four-letter word:
gets you bacon, lettuce and bread
gets your hungry belly fed
gets you in the black, out of the red
takes care of your family once you're dead
But you're so trifling,
you ain't listened to a word I just said
It's 2 in the afternoon, and you're still in bed
I bet if you were late night starving,
and surrounded by mountains of potato chips
You'd be too lazy to take your hand off your chest,
reach down and scoop up a few to your lips
You're just plain trifling,
too lazy and utterly shiftless
You leave a trail of clothes every time you undress
Well, mister trifling,
I got some late, real late breaking news:
Your suitcase is on the sidewalk;
so enjoy the big outdoors bedroom,
with a sky clock set to always stay on snooze

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016

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My wife is a vegetarian

(This is a fictional poem)

My wife is a vegetarian and she's making me be one too.
I crave meat so much that I ate a leather shoe.
Last week my wife got mad when I bought a Big Mac.
She gave it to her german shepherd and he nearly bit my hand off when I tried to 
get it back.
I'm unhappy because vegetables and fruits are all I've had to eat.
I'd kiss an old hog just to get a little meat.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007

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lately I've been lazy
my sunshine
reflects off frost
i reminisce about innocence
and found
like a rebound
in the fourth quarter
ball in hand off the board
26,000 fans and still we're bored
despite that we're lords
I want brothers in hordes
panther style
revolution is our idle wild
just you wait and see
he's reborn in ME

Copyright © brian anderson | Year Posted 2009

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Spider Serenade

  Spiderese starts with a sneeze
now that's your introduction.
Hand off a fly and wink your eye 
a subtle sweet induction,

into the world of webby things
like dewdrops in the early spring
with twinkly notes you'll learn to sing
a spider serenade.

  I'm looking for the antidote 
to change the passage that I wrote
(at least she's not a surly goat)
and she loves lemonade.

Ms Purple likes the old cafe
she's gonna hang there everyday
until I figure out a way
to fix this mess I made.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006

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Is handling Seduction


Allison she came to live with us
I told Chris I might have some fun
I’d handle her just a little bit
Yes she threw my hand off, some
But I was just an old Horse breaker
Used to patting down brumbies some days
Too take the fear of the man from the Hoss
Till the fear had all gone away
So later I’d put my hand on her knee
No slap, yes it was ok
So I’d handle the inside of her thighs 
But then I’d just walk away

I could see the steam arising
The heat in her love wanting way
It’s hardly even surprising
I kissed her and then walked away
That night I walked into her room
She asked what are you doing?
Said I don’t know, really
but we were in romantic tune
She was up at the daylight,
The heat of the night, washing sheets
Told Chris she had a sore tummy
Not my fault, I say and methinks…

Don Johnson  2-4-11

This is not romance or love, just a different type of connection between humans.
This is not your true romance
where guys try to get within your pants   (really)
And love of course has its  place
as we beget the human race....

If your eyes are open you will see
a method well known and free
a different path
you can debate
not spoken of to agitate

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

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Why didn't she cry 
why didn’t she make that noise just like the others 
why! Why!! 
Sobbed to the cadence of moo 
Howl! Howl!! Never came 
may be thy eyes could be tired 
maybe thy feet would still be lifted high 
little ones never sleep on arrival 
the dawn never duck 
heated in black and brown 
the windy cold seize her stay 
lift! thy hand off thy shoulder 
old tales are for the marine 
the calabash ought dripped along with the 
the day had gone while the sun remains 
we're of flesh 
refusing to becoming one part 
just a beam, never saw, miles from been a conqueror 
the turtle left without the shell 
essence of life watery down the hills.

Copyright © igbalajobi olasunkanmi | Year Posted 2005

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Passing the Baton

Gun fires blast as chiseled arms and legs
begin to rotate
Getting out and kicking is the key, one
mustn't hesitate

My leg is ALL mine to run and for me to
consume total control
I must run freely and fearlessly, I must
dig deep down within the depths of my

Running this race isn't about selfish pride
and glory
It's about being true, doing my part and 
running so that we all may be FREE

Yes!  I must be careful and ready when the
baton is passed my way
My grip must be tight, my mind focused and
my heart in it for there mustn't be any be any

I must receive, own and hone my leg like a 
true winner
If I do otherwise, then all the work done before
me will mean nothing; the headlines will read

When my leg is done, I must do the right thing
and pass the baton
A carefully administered hand-off to my teammate,
just a token of unity; an attempt to cross the finish
line as ONE

Copyright © Stewart Watkins | Year Posted 2017

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Tired Nights

dark skin closes over my eyes
ringlets darker than wet curls
stay open, i plead with them
my wrists rest on the keyboard
red and sore, covered by lace black gloves
my feet tap the bed, skin brushing against the soft fabrics
pink nails masked in darkness
black flaking off day by day, like my good mood 
tight jeans cover my legs
skinny jeans their called
a dark silk shirt dips into cleavage
covered only by the gray hoodie i have half zipped up
and the multiple silver chains that hand off my neck
too much eye liner i was told, blends into my eyes
showing my exhaustion more than planned
my blond red hair, thrown up sloppily in a ponytail
bands still hang down, partial to covering my face
my eyes, look out, zoned out, clear, almost glassy
i tap anxiously, and listen to my father play the guitar
its calming, my favorite, sad song
my head feels weighed down, just as my body feels stiff
chains hang off of my wrists, and my belt
my rainbow and black colored belt
again today i was called emo
i shrugged it off, too use to hearing it by now to care
i force myself to eat, though the food i consume makes me feel sick again
i breath, shallow breaths, and count, while reminding myself
what therapy says, what doctors say, two groups of untrustworthy people
"in through the nose, out through the mouth"
about the only advise ill hear from them
i breath, trying to clear away the pounding noise within my head
though my surroundings are peacefully quiet
i think, even though the effort to make my mind do anything at the moment is great
shhhhh, i whisper to my thoughts
allowing pictures to take the place of words
and still carry my prayers to god

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2009

Details | Hand Off Poem | Create an image from this poem.

but it can't be love

get out of my heart
i don't want you there
i don't know why i feel this way
i don't know why i can't escape you
get out of my mind
get your hand off my heart
i feel its squeeze when i see you
this feeling is wrong
you haunt me
and its driving me mad
the ghost of our past follows me
everywhere i go
i hear it whispering in my ear
its getting harder and harder to egnore
the lonelier i get the less of a whisper it becomes
this is life after you
and its making me miss you
even though i know i shouldn't
every time i see you
its like your pulling at my heart with a rope
pulling me closer to you
let my heart go so i can get on with my life
i need someone to help me get over you
your inside my head
i don't need your safety net
please leave my head my heart

and the sad part is that you aren't doing anything
you live your life
and i live mine
you don't talk to me
don't acknowledge my existence
i ended it with you for a reason
then why do i feel these doubts
but I'm the one who can't stop thinking about you
and i don't know what to do
I'm so confused
but i know this can't be... love
its can't...
can it...?

Copyright © chamonique knowles | Year Posted 2009