In the dark of night, upon a haunted gorge they rise.
Magpies serenade deep echo’s in aeolian shrieking shrills.
Under the great oak tree, a figure stands in the shadows,
a black cloak, boldly humming sonnets to the lost or lonely,
Her breath cooled by crispy mists.
Pouting misty tendrils dance; clouds blow long feted kisses;
Coyotes chant to a full moon their calls cut like the blade.
Vibrations shifting all about, nearby Kitty Jay’s old grave
shunned by the man she loved the server girl took her own
life in the muddy cañon hollows.
Sun chases wandering spirits; disappearing in the light of day.
Serenade songs of virtue, in swale dance the dew faeries.
And magpies shall soon return with a shrill just after
twilight to roost in the great tree above
the hidden grave of Kitty Jay.
Fresh flowers appear there nightly rest-not the outcast dead
of Dartmoor National Park.
I have never had a sense of belonging, I have always been strange to a common Joe in the streets, I have remained resolute in my weirdness, a courageous individual of note, I have always chased clouds, my pen has been a friend to me, a loyal friend indeed, powerful beyond measure, I use it to strike the nerve in this resource driven society, the most outspoken genius Outcast in the history of outcasts.
The guy with the flowers and the milk tray
So sorry, she’s having an affair
With me
I’m your friend too
Strange the things we do
Just sort of happened
You would understand if it wasn’t you
We should end it, walk away
Start another day
We won't
Not till all the cards are played
We know the end
The hurt, the betrayal
The words they say
You, they hate the most
Now the ghost
Doors are closed
Family walk away
Strange, the marriage stronger than ever now
I did that
Self-congratulations as I walk away
Yet I don't see the gratitude coming my way..
Chances of our chums to throw their arms around our shoulders
would be so much more common
if our outcast brains
did not reel in piranhas from invisible lakes.
Brains of our kind have cactus spike reactions to us reaching out
to touch a rose.
It bites
how we go into fight or flight
just from waking up.
I dream that I could invite my pals to the pub.
Our peers cheered about their reopening on July 4th,
and we envied them.
We will always envy those who have it simple —
they like chatting, so they chat.
They have house parties whenever they want.
And when it comes to applying for jobs,
it is not the idea of not being able to stomach breakfasts before their shifts that make them sick.
It's just whether they'll get in
that they worry about a bit.
Our outcast brains yearn
for restaurants, cafés, buses, trains, celebrations
not to make our adrenaline rise.
Then, we would make no compromise
based on anxiety's lies.
me
Ever
Blamed,
Belittled
You're nothing
The reason for our woes
Something wrong with you
Failure of the family
Needs help
Pathetic
me
All
Voices
Long silent
Still deafen
Crushing
Small
me
Yet
In the pain
Hides a choice
Different
A path, to listen
A voice
Yes
ME.
The urge is overwhelming –
to see my battered skin break open.
To feel, believe, that I’m alive –
might thaw my soul, so frozen.
I’m cold, I’m numb, am I even real? –
or a figment of someone’s mind?
(For) no matter how much blood I spill –
(there’s no) feeling left that I can find.
I’m lost within a realm of souls –
where all but mine can matter.
I hate this suit of flesh I’m in –
it’s torn, beaten, and battered.
I’m branded as the “useful one” –
but all the same, disposable.
This hate could fill a sea —
(until it’s) shores should burst and overflow.
My loathing, not for others –
although they care not of their sins.
But if I must be honest –
I hate this soul which lies within.
I never understood –
why I was treated as an outcast.
I guess I’m just too sick –
perhaps it’s why my friends don’t last.
The outcast dove sits alone, apart
From the rest of those who shared the start
Of the journey that has led them here
And left some full of dread and fear
Its bills and coos don't matter now
For the line they choose does not allow
Separation from the flock and roost
Different, and the choice - the noose
That leaves it twisting in the wind
Hanging there without a friend
That wind whose loft brought all along
And fills each lung with life and song
Allows the soul to separate
To fill, to fly, but not inflate
Yes, from the flock, but not the soul
That one lone thing we can control
Left hanging there is what is lost
Relations now the tempest tossed
Suspension left to bear the cost
Of souls refusing to be bossed
Relations never really die
They linger in that endless sky
Surrounding ev'ryone we know...
The air that lives in ev'ry soul
count grains
fought won
_________________
Nothing lonelier than being alone in a crowd
standing still in a bustling sea of aliens
they speak their dialects and look
right through me as if I wasn’t there
Feeling insignificant I don’t belong
and everybody knows it
like an imposter trying to fit in
but wearing the wrong camouflage
I try to merge with oncoming traffic
but they ignore me and won’t let me in
refusing to give me a chance
I am not worthy and they let me know it
Secretly part of me thrives in their ostracism
content that I have made my attempt
that like amber in layers underneath
there is more to be found in silence
Inspired by movie “Lost in Translation”
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
I walk a solitary path, a reclusive soul/
Lonely whispers echo where shadows console/
Nobody speaks, nobody sees/
I'm lost in their world, like a silent breeze/
In public, I vanish, an invisible man/
An outcast, a shadow in their grander plans/
Yet within me burns a heart so true/
A Romeo's passion, longing for breakthrough/
I may be deaf, but I hear through skies/
Telepathy bridges what hearing denies/
My silent ears, tune to unspoken sound/
A mind reader, a Psychic yet deaf/
I hear you, feel you, though silence surrounds/
Don't hate me, don't judge what you think you know/
Don't let my deafness mark me with woe/
For I am not less, and I am not weak/
A soul in the shadows, yearning to speak/
The journey stretches, endless and long/
Loneliness binds, but I remain strong/
A road of solitude, yet I've always known/
The quiet holds power, it's my own/
Outcast life
The life
The
Old
New
Real
life
Outcast
The Life
Living in an unwanted world
Tossed to and fro
With heavy breeze breezing
All hope seems lost
Lost in the midst of ravaging storm
Tossing East and North.
Caught amidst the combat of immorality
Weary and scary
Sharpened edges rust,
Once honored chastened.
Caught in the midst of thorns
Egg meant to meet with fragility chastened.
Marauding and parading
No light,no route, no Zeus.
Bright lightening fades,
yellow sun turned dark
Light to the path turn outcast
The cared for left
Leaving the light to fend for himself.
Is the light meant to fuel itself ?
How then shall it bear forth light ?
When day break,night cometh not ?
When night comes with darkness being the author of the day,
Vanishes, ashamed,is an outcast light summoned?
How be it the light comes up
When not fuelled?
Light cometh up but shines not .
When treated right,
Light shines and darkness vanishes
When there is alternative to light,
Is the light not ashamed?
Nothing replaces light for ever.
Even nature cometh and vanishes.
Then,shall light be appreciated but gone.
Of what gain shall it be for both creature?
An outcast
An outlaw whose only crime was to be finally free
Demons screaming in his ear
Voices so loud that passersby could hear if they were near
Daunting spirits. Recycling his hopes and shredding his dreams
He so much craved the elixir of life.
Wanted to be fine and hear the torments no more
The sleepless nights. The solemn silence.
The echoes of doubts. The piercing cries.
He wanted to shut the jaws of fear
Wanted to close the bridge of hurt and recurrent rejection.
Want to scream out the pains of visiting dismay
So he mixed the toxic drink
Brewed it into a smearing concoction
And he,with hands trembling,took the perfection mixed juice.
And then felt himself slowly drifting away
Then he knew that he was finally free .
But was he??
Knot For Thee
. for public domain
Everywhere I from and go,
o'er luscious prairie and mountain snow,
stretched low and high the hungry hands,
and gobbled up the Promised Lands.
Gated fences here and there,
a posted sign most everywhere,
declare, "This land is mine! Beware!
Move on. Move on. Don't linger here."
And yet sweet breezes beckon me,
"You may not touch. But look and see!
My lovely land from sea to sea,
twas made for some, but not for thee."
Hugged her from behind
She wore red lipstick number 9
Or was it plum?
I don’t know anymore
But I know her eyes
She was someone
So much better than me
I followed her everywhere
But her friends hated me
She told me to crash the slumber party
I held her hand under the sheets
The next day
She kissed my boyfriend
She told my secrets
She ate my brownie in the cafeteria
She told the school I was ugly
But I loved her
Cause she always spoke to me
Spit on me
Laughed at me
I brushed her hair
While she flirted with the football team
I carried her books
While she walked ahead of me
I drove her when she didn’t want to walk
I listened when she talked
I did her homework
Like she ordered me to do
I overheard her friends tell her to lure me in
But I went to the woods anyways that day
I wasn’t surprised when they jumped me
You stood there with your perfect hair
Drawing symbols on my face
They tied me to a tree
Laughing
They took turns stabbing
But you cut my hair
You took off my ring
You took my money
You snapped your purse
They chanted and screamed
They threw a burning flame
I watched you put on my ring
“Bye Becca”
Wow, you knew my name.
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