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.
Every farmer partners with weather.
A dependency that gauges his very survival.
Rain usually a welcome gift.
Wordku; 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I seek deep truth at half past-twelve,
But find it hiding in the skokiaan again. (1)
IDA sighs again,'' know thy ale''. (3)
Phuza Face orders a second pail (2)
By dawn I've solved life's mystery grim
Its mostly froth with little brim.
So drink Majwalis,and think no more. (4)
The mind's a map,the heart
Explanation of a Pub Crawler's Philosophical terms and names
Skokiaan-an illicit home-brewed alcoholic drink made from yeast,sugar and water.Usually its consumption leads to loss of wallet,teeth,wife and kids.Devotees are especially not fond of water and general cleanliness.A nice smell
IDA- means I Drink All.This is said by someone who never buys you drink/alcohol.
Phuza Face- is a colloquial term for the physical effects of heavy or long term drinking resulting in which leads to swelling,puffiness,redness of the face,dark circles under the eyes.
Majwalis-He who is devotee of alcohol and alcoholism who drink himself to death and beyond.Usually a cheque collector. Has a phobia of not reporting for duty on Monday and Friday.
Overcast skies bring me down
I need my fix of sunshine
to get me through the day
otherwise my blood is like molasses
and nothing courses through my veins
my mood always in direct relation
to my sunshine exposure
it's high when sunny
blue when it’s not
i hate to be so dependent
when i should have control
but there’s not much i can do
besides what's plainly obvious
in the meantime like a cat
i pounce on sunny days
go outdoors soak in the sun
recharge revitalize renew
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Opening the door onto your secret,
my heart pounds at the display of old wounds.
Healing achieved by clinging to nothing—
a future only obliquely glimpsed.
My heart pounds at the display of old wounds
where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced.
A future only obliquely glimpsed
through a whiskey bottle nearly empty.
Where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced,
going through life like that makes one anxious.
Through a whiskey bottle nearly empty,
discontent is always triggered by something.
Going through life like that makes one anxious;
healing achieved by clinging to nothing.
Discontent is always triggered by something—
opening the door onto your secret.
Olympic moments now here, then gone
under a spotlight intense as the sun
Years of sweat, dedication and training
geared toward a finish culminating
In a medal or two, or three if you’re great
~ all dependent on timing, focus and fate
I can not shake this feeling
There something I need to do
I don’t think I can get through the day
If I don’t have you
You’ve become my only outlet
To release me from the pain
The only way I can de-stress
To disconnect my brain
I may be over thinking
I’m trying to make it stop
There’s a voice I can’t silence in my head
I think I’ve lost the plot
I think it makes me calm
And takes away my fear
But the more I seem to ingest
The more I disappear
I’m no longer myself
It’s taking over me
I just can’t seem to stop
How do I become free
I need to make a change
I’m better than this
If I continue this way
How much will I miss
Night yet nibbles at the light.
Hare and fox are seeking each other,
they know
how to be electric, sensitized
to their dependency,
their needs.
A man in a motel
awakes, stares at the ceiling,
reaches for his wife
hands exploring dead space.
He is no longer sensitized,
nor electrically linked to her
just the loss - just the need.
Some say love makes the world go round
I say it is oil that makes the world go round
The thing that is in everything
from plastics to fuel is how it does rule
so given this thought here is your opportunity
to have your say in a different way
Where’s your stand on the Keystone pipeline
moving dirty Alberta oil from Canada to Texas
Or fracking that shakes the earth
and plays with the water table
how about drilling in national parks
and protected wetlands or in oceans and seas
the carbon footprint that fossil fuels leave
and our slavery to BIG oil and high gas prices
but what of the flip side
the oil cartels called OPEC alongside Mr. Putin
does the blackmailing by the few
through oil dependency offset the risks
that is the question to be answered
Andreas Simic©
mind numbing pain free
without meds where would we be
old school misery
whiskey for an amputee
biting sticks in agony
Forgive me, mother for I have sinned,
I will chant a drunken hymn:
Virgin Mary, seduce me with salvation
from my daily woes! I everso
Crave to be delivered from the damnation
That tears me, so.
The fire in my chest
Balls up all my sorrow
The cinnamon embers warm my breast
Whispering the empty promises of tomorrow.
The liquid stream rages forward,
With the inhibitions swept and drowned.
I can finally see colour in my world,
Waiting for the beating to crash down.
My name has been stripped from a glass,
My precious ones see a stumbling ass,
With even fewer looking back.
All I have left is you; my bottle of Jack.
The drone of machines goes on and on
with the endless cry of the ward sisters song
energy rises like billowing smoke
with fiery glances to the ones who dare choke.
Invisible hand undertake their chores
over the barks and commands of the insistent roars.
The sick and the fallen lie still in their beds
as the army of staff turn it all on their heads.
Rigorous routine steps up a pace
to the onslaught of pressure that's put on this place
Healing and harmony must still exist
It's the law of the land, that one must insist.
So many bodies, so many hands
dancing to orders, between the commands
And so it continues day after day
In this battlefield tent, where the injured must stay.
You are my church
I am on my knees for you
Bowing my head
I pray I pray I pray for your peace
I throw coins at your pleas for reconstruction
Your congregation look at me with sympathetic eyes
I make sacrifice after sacrifice
Because I have faith
I am your church
You beg for forgiveness
Knowing my doors are always open
You find comfort and shelter
And repent your sins
The familiar scent of incense and woodwork that has withstood centuries of turmoil make you feel immortal
But one more tear of wax from the candle
May finally set this shrine ablaze
An act so practiced
like an invisible mask
If I see past
things will smash
our past wounds like food
for inadiquecies that keep us
intact
or rather keep me
coming back.
Triangulation strangulation
can you live up to the competition
add gas lighting and narcissism
a very frightening composition
Muster up to the cluster B
find yourself discarded like a soiled sheet
devoid of compassion
lack of empathy
once you really see
past the screen
the mask has slipped
and so many have peeked
now you panic
validation you need
so you pray on young
dumb nieve and weak
seek out a victim
to bleed dry and supply your need
your needs for weed dont come cheap
pull the supply and see the demon freak
neurotic psycotic rage and crazy speak
implant viral seeds a vile display
and then you leave.
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