you were completely comfortable
being miserable
like pain was a roommate
like the yelling was a lullaby
like love was supposed to sting,
and silence meant everything was fine
he broke you in chapters
never enough to close the book
just enough to fold the page over
so he knew where he was up to
you wore makeup like armour
told yourself
“it’s not that bad.
he's just mad.
he loves me.”
but love doesn’t leave handprints
love doesn’t apologise
through locked doors
love doesn’t come home
smelling like fear
you were completely comfortable
being miserable
but comfort isn’t safety
and miserable isn’t love
so one day
she packed her silence
and left the echo behind
it wasn’t brave at first
it was shaking hands on doorknobs
a suitcase filled with
second guesses
fear braided tight
like her hair
she cried as she walked
on the road to nowhere
felt the weight of every “what if,”
every “he didn’t mean it,”
every “maybe i’m the problem.”
but she walked anyway
shoes worn thin
heart heavier than her bags
and maybe she didn’t know
where she was going
but she finally knew
what she wasn't going back to
her words so much bigger than her I think her end is miserable
the abandoned shack looks miserable and forlorn
standing amid brambles and weeds in an unkempt field
her porch boards creak ominously as we walk across them
Some of the end boards have disintegrated
she looks sad and gloomy; her front door is gone
she has not been cared for in a number of years
the upstairs windows are broken probably by rocks
her kitchen has been stripped of appliances
wires hang where her oven used to be
the floor is brighter next to these wires
a tiny creature scuttles across the floor
She smells like animals
She has probably been a haven for squirrels and mice
Maybe raccoons take up residence during the winter
Do you want to go upstairs? My girlfriend asks
I shake my head “no” not wanting to see any more
Who’s miserable, could be not
it’s relative, so it depends
if you care of what you’ve got
that’s one thing, but if you tend
to ignore yourself, you see
that you might avoid the inner
just by staring at the sea
so you have to be a winner
over trouble you won’t mention,
in the waving peace of mind,
by reswitching an attention
to the boat with sail you find.
Hating someone every hour of everyday is the most miserable job ever in the history of human existence...
September 10, 2023
Out walking, and I need a leak
A toilet I urgently seek
There’s now’t but a bush
Oops I felt a whoosh
Wet panties - I don’t need to peek!
I contact my doctor called Emma
And explain my awful dilemma
That when I need to pee
There is such urgency
It ruins walks with my pup Gemma
I have the solution Doc cries
Just try pelvic floor exercise
It’ll help with your bladder
And will make you feel gladder
It’s superb for ladies and guys!
Les Miserable
I walked and walked down a steep ravine and came across
a village has forgotten by time by a road that evaded dwellings
A track not trodden among boulders and roofs made of canes.
skinny women with empty breasts sat on the bough of trees
waiting for someone to enter their loss of love
While telling their idiot children in the wet grass to shut up
Oh, crying stones free us from the untidy domestic wilderness
where dogs are too indifferent to muster barks.
Under flat stones, the men are hiding the emptiness of the
existence too much to bear now that the vines take no berry
On this day that has no time, but the endlessness of the gone
Cabbage patch, yellow chickens looking for worms before
the children do because they are hungry too.
a painful week
miserable household
God's idea or mine?
Old age will be miserable
If one thinks of the dreams
That haven't been fulfilled
And time is lacking
If one thinks of the hatred buried in the heart
And there is a little chance to release
The oldy is too weak to combat again
He will burn himself out
Like a candle in the wind
Maybe doing good
Is worthy
But doing bad
Will face a penalty from God
A world that can't do without your consent
A world of sales promotion
A display of shopping conveniences and benefits
To win your hearts
To win your consent
The miserable man has cracked his head
To win some of the stonefly hearts
To make some benefits
In a world of great competitions
Like cheap sale,special offer,special discount,buy one free one,free try,free samples,free gifts,birthday specials,a longer guarantee period,a good after purchase service......
It's really a splendid offer
If without any tricks,hidden secrets or scandals
A woman
Is no longer a prisoner
In a family
Like the olden days
Now
With her own pursuits
Own interests
Own wellbeings
And
No more intensive pressures
From the mother-in-law
Or anyone else's dictatorship
A new person is born
To the society
To a new era
And now
The death of a prisoner
Has ended the miserable stories
Of women
In the olden days
The undeserved man will bribe to get
What he only gets by chance
The deserved man will bribe to avoid
Being snatched the golden apportunity
The greedy man will bride to make sure
What he wants is attainable
The unconfident man will bride
To be selected, to be distinguished from others
Where there are strong competitions
There are briberies in various forms
A stupid man even bride God in his prayer
Does he
Desert sauna—
her home but never mine
and I don’t mind.
In consumed dust and barren earth
lifelong rooted
trapped in perpetual hell fire—
both night and day.
Visible heat swirls—
116 degrees of them
clutching and clawing my unprotected throat
and robbing me of my limited breath.
Too many cacti
Lemmy’s overkill to my eyes,
which are so very desperate
for lush greenery, a cooler climate
and a modicum of civilization.
Open air, suffocating placidity
my happiness evaporating
in the tedious buff—
devoid of vegetation
and obvious animal habitation.
and all of this
the dry going by
viewed from my passenger window
violated by the devil’s dust.
Contest: Open Poetry 3 Poetry Contest (placed 6th)
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
Written: April 22, 2021
What breath of Hope I had is gone.
The memories haunt me everyday
If I can see what lays ahead
Something more wonderful
Than perhaps I’m not better off dead
Miserable Midsummer
‘Tis midsummer, and we have no choice;
The thermometers have reached a peak,
Three digits creeping and sticking,
Air conditioners running full speed.
We look at heat waves out the window
We wait for dusk and something cold
Hope mama remembered popsicles,
And little bathers splash so bold.
We wait for the big weatherman
To say there’s a break, I smell fall,
Midsummer comes, but it will go,
And gold and red will cover all.
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