Cranked up the victrola to max damage
Put on a little Zeppelin, so savage
When the neighbors got mad
I played Sir Galahad
Come play pickleball ~ first we’ll eat cabbage
Open your ears and mind, before you open your eyes ' Be informed of humanitys dis-guise..As the Greeks
Gave gifts to Troy, you will notice the
Same old hackneyed ploys, food parcels
To the dissposessed, bulk bought could
Cost? ten to fifteen dollars, certainly no
Less.. Yet the mirrorless action of giving
Billions, to fund wars destruction its in
The trillions.' Of course no bankers would
Be involved in such, or non profit orgs..'
Now should that read organ-isations.? I
Wonder much.? Yet should i not wonder?
Just bow my head, hunch shoulders and
Shrug.? With no-thing said.? Untill I am in
Truth; null and void' quite dead.!
He spoke of angels and demons,
Obsessed with supernatural beings and terrors.
In hopes to discover their wings and horns,
To know why angels have light,
and demons embody the dark.
Blinded by the urge to claim an angel's glorious heart,
He neglected the living and breathing,
And yearned for the warriors of heaven & protectors of hell.
I bared my divine soul—take it all, I told him.
His eyes crinkled in disgust.
My soul looked damaged, not fit for an angel,
And too clean for a demon.
He claimed I was neither,
He aimed for the soul of either.
My back, bruised from the weight of broken wings, ached.
My scalp, still sore from silver strands torn away, burned.
My eyes, now black and blue, leaked of tears—
They used to be gold.
The stranger dismissed me,
Off to enchant an angel, to steal their soul.
Why search for it, when I offer you mine for free?
I Like The Character
Of The Wounded Parts
In Memories; It Smoothes
Into History, Unique In
Its Purpose, All Connected
Into Beauty Displayed.
I'll Miss That, I Think!
But, It's Not Up To Me,
As Usual.
Still - Nice - Thanks!
You Can Never
Appreciate Enough.
IT KNOWS.
-Gray Squirrel
06-20-2026
It was not the cruelty that shattered me;
it was the slow, treacherous alchemy of the heart -
how each wound you dealt seeped deeper into my bones
and, against all reason, taught me to love you more fiercely,
as if your abuse were proof of my inadequacy
and loving you harder might finally make me worthy.
Thrown away after years of service, time reduced by judges refusing to acknowledge years of time and work.
Thrown away and forced to spend money to prove life facts that are clear and apparent.
Thrown away in a divorce, reduced time of marriage, causing loss of money, loss of children, and more, can happen when judges refuse to acknowledge the facts.
Thrown away happens to many, it happens after years of service at work, years of service to a group, years of service in a marriage, just to mention a few.
Thrown away and mistreated should never happen, respect and love, and truth should always be given.
Thrown aways can happen in many ways so be aware and take care.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
One way or the other
These things sort themselves out
Or do they
Seeded
Nurtured
Or left to fester and burn
Until the smoke becomes the air we breathe
Solved or unresolved
A blemish for some
A scar for the remainder
The kind that throbs
Long after the wound is gone
Silent walls
Ridiculously linger
Towering stubborn
Built from nothing
But the words withheld and the truths avoided
All of it
Every bruise
Every burn
So easily undone
By simple communication
Would I still be me, without an arm or a knee
Would I still be me, if I could no longer see?
Was my lover whole, after brain injury
A sudden brake, subtle changes, still loves me.
Am I still me, with such fading memory?
It gets worse with age, to my childhood, lost the key.
Was Mom still her, when the slow descent became a stroke
Is part of her fully asleep, from this nightmare never woke?
Would you still like me, when I don't know who I am?
Maybe I never did, self-concept just a sham.
Would you still like me when I don't know you
Is there a core worth saving, when my time comes due?
Would I still be me, if my temper came unchained
Surprised who I could be, or by circumstances framed
Would I still be me, if my morals twisted out of shape
Gradual descent, then snapback, but too late?
Would you stay with me, at the edges of my mind
When all the roads we traveled are no longer there to find?
We forget from whence we came; we forget what once we knew
An empty shell that looks like me, a caring that holds you.
I walk through the echoes of my mistakes
that reply louder than the pulse in my chest
each one a shadow whispering
that I am less that I should be.
I hold guilt like iron,
believing I have poisoned the trust
my only love took forever to gain for me
I hear the old voices,
the ones that call me selfish,
lazy, unworthy of the air I take-
and they cling to me like smoke.
But somewhere beneath the noise,
a quieter truth trembles:
that I am more than the hurt I have I've caused,
more than the names I've been given,
more than the weight I've learned to carry.
And though the night feels endless,
there is a part of me still reaching,
still wanting to be seen,
despite knowing I will never be deemed
as something other than broken
or anything worthy of living.
Sylvia Plath -
what a psychopath!
She went to church with Ted Hughes
just to vandalise pews.
Time hit me differently,
but don’t pretend you changed.
Wanting me became useless
when every excuse finally ran dry.
Every sacrifice stole my hours,
piece by piece,
until time itself became a debt
you never intended to repay.
Believe me,
I didn’t look back.
I left with my pride intact.
I walked away from everything
you killed inside me.
I left you behind.
You tried to keep me small,
pressed down beneath your weight,
mistaking my patience
for something you could own.
But now I know better.
You will not break me again.
I still carry your secrets.
I know the shape of your worst mistakes.
You played with my weakness,
stripped me of my strength,
and called it love.
One day you’ll see this clearly,
not rewritten, not softened,
exactly as it was.
Go on, replay every memory,
because that's all that’s left of us.
I meet it in the quiet eyes—
a storm that will not name its rain,
a body fluent in distress
while language stands apart in pain.
Emotions move like shadows crossed,
their edges faint, their colors dim,
a childhood taught to still the waves,
to silence joy, to cage the limb.
Perhaps a parent’s frozen face,
perhaps a trauma’s early vow:
“Don’t feel too much, it isn’t safe”—
and so the self forgot the how.
The cure is neither fast nor neat—
it’s naming what was once concealed,
through patient talk, through art, through touch,
until the numbness learns to yield.
We teach the heart its mother tongue,
to read its pulse, to find its rhyme—
and gently, word by word, restore
the lost music of feeling in time.
Somewhere over the mountain, hidden away,
There’s a land that is calling; I must not delay.
Somewhere over the mountain, that’s where she’ll be,
In the alpenglow, Mary's waiting for me.
They said I'd never recover from my stroke
A nightmare from which I never woke
A big chunk of me gone, a lower plateau
But I left the home, and off I did go.
It's our lot to grow old, not due to our sins
Trails go cold and entropy wins
But I'll boat down the waterfall where snowmelt flows,
I’ll find Mary in the place that nobody knows.
The terrain is forbidding, the ridge like a knife
Can't undo time, can't crash the afterlife
No country for old men, no breaking the rule
But I have to attempt, to give up is so cruel
Somewhere over the mountain, I wish it were so,
Mary is singing where wildflowers grow.
The starling will guide me, the meteor will show
The path to the valley where lost rivers go.
I went over the mountain, then took a fall
a thousand foot down off a sheer valley wall.
They buried my story, because no one must know.
They say I died then, but I died long ago.
No Damage Done
The storm approached suddenly
And the wind blew fiercely
But the tree fell slowly
It landed softly
Trying not to disturb the gentle plants and trees around it
The animals in the forest
Watched it fall
It would have been a cozy home
For me and my family
Said the squirrel
The perfect place for a nest
Said the robin
Its nuts would have given me food for winter
Said the chipmunk
It was a nice shady spot for napping
Said the bear
It landed softly, no damage done
Said the man
The animals of the forest agreed
The man will never know
The value of a tree
I open my mouth
My anger spills out
I say things I don’t mean
And mean things I won’t say
Damage
Oh such damage
Strangers or friends
Words I can’t defend
Family is broken
From words that I’ve spoken
When will it end?
Damage
Too much damage
So conflicted
I’ve inflicted
So much hurt
So much pain
Words like weapons
Sharper than knives
Killing dreams
Shredding lives
Damage
Unjustified
Unspeakable
Damage
Bludgeoning words
Shattered spirits
Wounded hearts
Crippled lives
Killing words
Chilling words
Handful of syllables
Damage
Sub Categories
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