When the brain's befuddled
gone astray
the mind's a muddle
lost my way
then's when I could use
a cuddle
to pick me up
set me straight
get me going
yet not too late
see me through
somehow
and if it's all the same to you
I could do with one right now
I'm here
A world I did not choose
I don't even know the purpose
So when you come to know who you can trust, you may already be in harms way or to emotionally drained. With eyes looking up or cast down, depending on fate you did not know.
Like a scattered puzzle waiting for a perfect fit, not knowing that it might mot stick and or you stay stuck in a muck.
Maybe a bit to late for a change because the picture is already created.
It could be so simple if you knew you had wings that could take you there and there and be gone.
Gone is done and done is not good enough for this place. So you stay and linger till your hold is gone.
So sway away
gone will takes its place.
Feeling
denied because there was no plot, so gone I certainly am.
If
somehow
it is recognized
that stories are unending
and what is said is always a story
there may seem to be an equality of all stories
in their emptiness~and a sense of peace beyond understanding~~
I would oft picture her
No longer with me demure
Just as she was then on screen
Always eager, always keen
Her transparent red piece
Solely meant to tease
I plunge into flashback mode
The way she sat, the way she rode
Throwing all caution out
And the resulting love, a rout
I desperately look forward to it now
Despite all hurdles, somewhere, somehow.
Who knows when life will just turn around to the unknown and all you feel is you being in an unknown world.
Crying out for help but all you see is darkness
The pain strike like a knife.
Trappe inside an empty cage.
In the darkness I was found with
Aching of a heavy heart.
I had to endure the pain and
Forcefully face reality.
I'm sorry that I have to tell you this story.In many things I have lied,
I did as these are done.
In a cold grave I was lane,
I was nothing but cold
Breaks and stones decided to block my way.
I sometimes felt my chest closing up.
I tried to focus on the outside world.
I felt like part of me is missing and I wanted to live in the past.
I missed being a kid,
Being my father's princess off course.
"Change is painful,
Yesterday I wouldn't have spoken
But today is different"
My head tells my heart.
That's when I saw the light again.
. . . Dont Trouble Young! Oh!
You Got It In Stream Of Blood
Thats Everlasting! . . .
I know this is not a fantasy or fable
Something I have over a prolonged time
Constructed or invented
Deep down in my own imagination
It just all now makes perfect sense
Looking reading back
Treading over tired old ground
Seeing how I quite obviously
Can or do not relate to others
Being that as strange as I may find it though
Although the what , why and the words
I say and choose to use
Are virtually the same just merely rearranged
They seemingly never appear to cut through
Yet and but when other people do
They nail it institaneously unlike I can
Which leaves me with and at a loss
Unable to find the words
To neither explain nor express
Let alone able to address
The total and utter hopelessness
I feel and I can not hide unto myself inside
Hoping to find this my own
Fable and fairytale
Is unfortunately not a fantasy
But rather in truth actual living reality
...I have a next door neighbor who
is not the same color as me,
but I never much thought of that,
he easy-going, friendly.
We both got along well-enough,
until his sister did move in,
and brought along a yapping dog
who’s barking was as loud as sin.
I put up with this for some weeks,
then I went over there and asked
if they could keep him in at night,
in the sister’s eyes anger flashed.
She claimed I hated ‘black people,’
that was why I was doing this,
treating them like normal neighbors
somehow made me a racist?!
On days off I do like to hike,
like to go to the great outdoors,
the quiet of a mountainside
lifts the stresses that I abhor.
But then I saw an article
claiming going off to the woods
was somehow racist in itself,
and that doing so wasn’t good.
At this point I just rolled my eyes,
the truth was abundantly clear,
these people had no principles,
just sought to rule us all through fear,
If all is racist, nothing is,
and if this woke bullsh-t persists,
the only people worth knowing
will be ones that they call racist.
We started as one person, but the cell split
Into two, identicals.
Called “The twins”
Twinsies
The Stone Twins.
Neither of us had a name.
“You can have them both,” The athletes kidded each other.
When we reached Junior High school.
Did not matter what sport.
We were horrible at all of them.
The Stone Twins.
That was our identity.
My sister and I, neither having a name.
I was determined to get a name somehow.
I had to push off, shove off, run off.
And so I did.
Now I am a person.
With an identity.
Finally.
And I thank God for it.
Because I remember what not having one was like.
Something happens, a thought forms, I'm alive
First memory, looking from my pram, at the sky
Not a clue where I came from, don’t actually care
So this is life, reality, I’ve just become self aware
Bouncing instinctively, whilst breathing on reflex
As time goes by, I start to imitate moving objects
Bonding with family and friends, in tears and joy
For the moment at least, just chewing on my toys
Then comes early education, perplexing traditions
Must be kept in check, as I make innate decisions
Turned out a mischievous child, borderline liability
But falls and injury, bring me sense of vulnerability
Meanwhile random events, appear out of the blue
People start dying, I notice babies being born too
Curiously asking questions, getting same answers
Told about heaven and hell, emphasis on the latter
Sometimes wish I could go back, change my ways
But whats the point, life would simply be on replay
Only get one chance as a child, it’s better than none
And at the end of the day, is over quick as it begun.
By
David Kavanagh
there is a dimension
where life hovers
neither good nor bad
life somewhere out there
in its raw pure energy
devoid of judgment
and petty complication
life for the taking
in its magnificence
interconnected as one
in harmony
its sole reason for being
death being only
one small part of the cycle
no more no less significant
than the other
every moment precious
blessed with meaning
the yin the yang
like clockwork
skillfully woven
their threads entwined
interlaced into the fabric
of life and death
by forces higher than our own
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~MINDFULLY~ 2021
Read on air by invitation ~ October 4, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
Somewhere the sun's shining
Perhaps in your heart
For the sky's gray and complaining
From the very start
Someplace laughter's ringing
Perhaps in your ears
For the streets are deserted
In dread winter's fear
Somehow hope emerges
Could it be from your spirit?
This lone voice calls out to you
I'm so glad you can hear it
January 09, 2019
STRAND SELECT 8, any form, any theme Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
sometimes
i feel like
a ship lost
at sea
drifting
aimlessly
consumed
by waves
of emotions
that swell
in my eyes
as they
search
for you
sometimes
i pretend
the stars
glistening
are your eyes
peering back
at me
somehow
it pulls
me through
and settles me
in the depths
of dreams
most often
you live
there
In every place of loving Grace
Your face appeared; your essence
Entwined with mine in deepest prayer
Songs true, heartache, longing; Love
Somehow, you were already there.
Somehow
If we could have made it to September,
Do you think we could have made it back through May?
We will never know what could have been,
But still, remember…
We could have found a way.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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