Mental Illness.
Just too much of too much.
Carrying a huge wooden box containing a single apple.
Rotting, burning core.
Saying I would never beg for forgiveness again.
Then tipping the doll house over.
Mental illness.
You would think the “too much” would implode one day.
Never.
Just weaves rotting roots to grow higher.
Creaking sounds like memories if they could swallow.
Destiny is always around the corner for no reason.
And my destiny is helpless too.
Mental illness.
Creates.
Weird, unfurnished feelings.
Just too much of too much.
Mental illness.
I know where it comes from.
Maybe they’ll know someday.
Around the corner
from where I live alone,
in an unfurnished studio apartment,
there’s a shabby restaurant where
I often sit nursing a cup of coffee.
I asked Life one day, “Why me?”
Sitting across from her and
looking directly into her eyes,
“Why did you come to be with me?
I never wanted this. Now I’m distraught,
You have given me nothing but
heart-ache and pain,
broken dreams and empty promises.”
“I was a contented spirit,
Roaming the realms of the heavens
immortal and eternal;
But now, thanks to you, I am
besieged with mortal maladies and
haunted by your old nemesis, death!”
~Contest: Chapter 1 Poetry Narrative
~Sponsor: Matt Caliri.
Yes, I am a woman
They say I bring good omen.
Yet, I am stifled as a foetus
and consumed as negus.
As a girl, there is no respite
My molesters have their collars coloured white.
Shall I speak or shall I engulf in myself what I perceive
For to render aside humanity and brutality there is no such sieve.
No clouds would set asunder; No rain would come to heal.
I know I would be engulfed in the thunder
and my life would be left unbloomed
Yet I ask this world
For what fault am I punished
When you cherish and blossom; why is my life unfurnished?
I am naked of you,
once again unclothed by love
unfurnished
I know everything of nothing.
In sympathy of tears
the air gives up its water
Hydrogen
You separate the oxygen.
Locked in cycles
we hold our own truth
pulsating
we pass through aeons.
Sadness echoes once more in my chambers,
pain, residing in me like a filthy squatter,
and my heart is squalid,
unfurnished.
Surrounded in you,
you are the fastness of my echo.
A solitary kernel for lack of succoring nurture aggrieved
From sun's warm caresses seasonally bereaved
With wind's chilling strides constantly plucked, heaved
Lying on fallowed ground whose cloak now desleaved
With frigid mantle over frostbitten spine weaved
Nutrient-rich pores of their cultivating provender relieved
As brittle husk to its fibrous moorings tightly cleaved
So coarse grains to earthen crevices, pockets sheathed
Dormant, but from bludgeoned shell will not secede
Nor Summer's bountiful harvest deed
A sparse, unfurnished bed temporarily bequeathed
Until providentially-rendered elements have new life breathed
Still yet, creator hath numbered all and due rations perceived
Until Spring's availing tides have Winter's corroded channels reprieved
And life's, generating tenants from their frozen prisons freed
And I let the world to its pass
Letting it pass by unnoticed
The never moments never asked
A time only if left unfurnished
I have not a care
I am not to bother the change
Not for moments I’ll like share
Only to have a time I remember remain
Unfettered, unwanting, undone
Rules to a game yet unknown
A perfect seed unsoiled and unplant
A place in the world without a home
And I saw the world to its toll
The truth of humanities with life never lived
To each and all be fitted with roles
For the finality when an eventual age will deceive
Having forgotten to live the day
I remember the life I have forgotten so well
A mind taught beyond words to say
Perhaps the world is just forgetting us to tell
I have a hollow basement,
It's unfurnished and devoid.
Love and enchantment, it should have plenty.
Tenderness it seems to lack.
Many hands have offered help,
To my basement that is empty.
Vacant and abandoned,
My basement will always be.
Even though it hungers,
For care and protection,
I cannot seem but wonder.
I just can't help but ponder.
Alone and cold my basement stands,
A soul I call my own,
Why my jilted crypt,as lonely as can be
Shuns the nurture that my vault so badly needs.
My basement is alive.
It contains all of me.
My soul, my heart, my sacred space,
Is what my basement holds.
It's blind to protection,
And you're blind to my heart.
It holds a special part of me,
That was angry from the start.
It's a personal burden,
This sadness I acquired.
Gloom and bleak defeating me,
A feeling that I know.
My basement is hollow,
But I welcome it to love.
When love can make me stronger,
My crypt will always burn.
Love yourself like an adorable diamond sky and
Outweigh the sparkling rhapsody of pains it brings,
through various ecstatic hardship, thoroughly
unfurnished friendship, and uneven relationships.
Over and over,
love overcomes depression, hate and difficulty
For without love, there won't be growth of glory
and there will be less supply of laughter and
definitely; blessing and inspiration will never
graduate from one graceful level to another.
Verily in love,
we fear nothing,
we tear nothing,
we scare nothing,
for we are a heap of divine overflowing success,
and anything we touch, turns into a sea of eternal
triumph and an extraordinary first-class divinity .
This has graced us with victorious virtues and has
also
effectively brought prosperity to love, making all
things manifest with pure affection in abundances,
Truly, we should smoothly reign and stand in love.
The fire alarm went off at the projects,
but when they got their, no one spoke,
and there was the absence of fire and smoke,
it was just going to be a prank,
and that’s when a crime scene developed
in a project house basement, a dank,
the odor was so bad, it just stank,
it was an unfurnished place,
where an elderly black man
went missing without a trace,
and after completely opening up the basement door,
they found that missing man stretched across the floor,
he was in full rigor, and what’s more,
he was covered by a long sheet
of plastic painter’s tarp,
skin cooked in its own oil and heat,
shoe laces tied to his hands and feet,
and there death and drama would meet,
four homicide detectives and two firemen
stood over the body,
a dim basement with low light,
doing its best to fight off the night,
and they waited awhile,
it was like a nativity scene, Brooklyn style,
not in a manger,
but in a two story brick pile.
One inch forward two back
Creeping toward a ludicrous goal
Relinquishing disappointment
Seeking internal satisfaction
Psychotic persistence,
Emotional self-government,
Invulnerable will,
Summate its inevitable success
Bent on destruction
Of opposition
Nothing remains in its way
Corrupt hunger for perfection
Double-edged sword it hunts
All lost, nothing gained
Predetermined history
On course for an early end
Egotistical
Self-serving
None could’ve foreseen
Seclusion from society
Inured to anguish
Epitome of sorrow
Unfurnished with tear ducts
Just sweat and blood
Its release is its affliction
Its passion is its destruction
Its serenity is its inferno
Its infection is its only hope
You left me Ha!
Off you go
You think I need you
Hit the road
I can find someone else
To walk on my chest
You weren’t that good
You’re certainly not the best
I’ve seen a manikin wearing thong
But on you girl it looked all wrong
Just to let you know your underarms had a serious pong
And I’d rather kiss the likes of King Kong
As for your bra size
I could rent them out as two unfurnished flats
Don’t forget when you leave
To take your witch’s hats
Your brooms ahead of you girl
With my shoes up the ass of your black cat
When you were young you must have been a scary child
buy the way is that hair real makes you look all wild
You call that a weave or was it a perm
Either way it made me squirm
I always knew that I was too good for you
Consider this note expressing that we through
The greatest love of all might be a fake antidote
A distraction to the mundane and insane ongoings of day to day
From streaming through the cement jungle on your tap shoes
Or running in the nick of time
Spilling the cup
Jumping the ropes of change
That’s when you find the great moment of joy
One great supply of unfurnished real fresh air
“Faaaa”
Like in the breadth of living you find life worth living
And your greatest love of all
A cup of piping coffee dark and sane
A glass of chardonnay
A new pair of heels, wheels, or sealing the deal
A dress with ruffles, nothing less than ruffles
A moment with your sister
A laugh with your brother
A sweet cookie and meal with your mother
Bursting through the mundane doors you come out alive and renewed
A prayer to the heavens and your re-glued
Sticking to the point, you’re on the way
It’s a new day
A fresh new day might be the greatest love of all
-Jess
Winters breath blows upon my blushed face. A kiss of death to everything flora. The kiss
crumples the once vibrant fall leaves, the plush green grass an ugly brown. Heavens breath
is bitter cold, as so are the people I pass on the street.Their collars curled upon their necks,
a scarf wrapped around a chin, a hat to hide their head. Why? I find this breeze maginificet.
I peel clothing piece by piece until im exposed, unfurnished. I kneel to the unforgiving winter
hoping I might slip in with the flora.
Hell is my mind,
heaven is my mind,
ghetto is my mind,
palace is my mind,
it is unfurnished,
and furnished,
it is a umble of extremes,
it is stable,
and quite a fable,
it has with this rot,
made many learn,
and called well taught,
I wonder if they will preserve mine,
like they did of many,
who did the maximum whine,
even if they did it would be of little use,
because I would not be there with my mind.
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