PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Using me

Abusing me

Binding me

Torturing me

Hating me

Killing me

IT'S OVER!

I'm breaking away

(it's over)

I'm taking back my life

(it's over)

I'm back in control

(it's over)

Your infectious reign over me

IS OVER!

No more will you hunt me

(it's over)

No more will you beat me down

Your incessant voice

No longer will it haunt me

Death comes to those who wait

And I'm here to end your wait.

I'm breaking away

(it's over)

I'm taking back my life

(it's over)

I'm back in control

(it's over)

Your infectious reign over me

IS OVER!

The glory of the love song is in the singing

Let the brief emotion be one of joy ringing

Such clarity of note, of tone!

The pleasure shared - you're not alone

For the duration of the song

When love expressed is never wrong.



Do not bother right now with harsh reality

Not while the song is sung -'til its finality-

Just live the moment of its air -

A time of living with no care.

Too soon bleak grimness shows its face

But for a time - it was erased

The girl despaired

They taunted and teased

Pulling at her skin

Grabbing the non-existent flesh



Every night,

She cried herself to sleep

Hoping they'd leave her alone

In the days to come.



Her hopes were never granted.

They mocked and crowed

Jeering at the bag of bones

Insulting her in any way they could.



They cried when they heard

Cried at the funeral

Offered condolences to her parents

Little did they know about her diary



Every word they'd ever uttered

Catalogued for everyone to see

A precise document

Telling of secrets and hurt.



Mortified faces

Thought their words had been forgotten

Never realised

How much pain they had caused.

Blank eyes that look in no direction,

The objects they fixate on knock me out,

I can’t remember what I swallowed,

How much, how long ago,

Nothing is clear,

All I know is nothing at all.



Such a pretty little box, to be unlocked,

And emptied out,

Why, what gain?  Taken in vain,

Taken to pass out.



Left peaceful, but not even close to death,

But I must have known that from the very start.

I must have measured it up to make sure,

I’d still end up with a pulse inside my wrist,

And a beat inside my heart.



But why?

Why not take the twenty more, and end it all,

Instead of passing out limply on the bed,

Why not end the sorrow in my life,

And all the sad thoughts in my head.



Shivering little girl, with no courage to see it through,

I know what I could take, and I know what it could do,

So scared of the end of life, and whatever might happen next,

Its not what could happen that frightens me,

Its what might not happen,

Its the blankness I can’t face.



So I’m left here with a throbbing head,

A half empty bottle by my side,

For now I’ll just have to be satisfied,

With the tranquillity I owned,

Just for a few minutes,

Just this fear inside and an ache to die,

Until a day when I'm able to go through with it.

The walls are bare

The ceiling is low

Wherever I look

There is no place to go



The door is bolted

A thousand times

No corner to hide in

From the hurt and the lies



No jokes or fun

No laughter there

A misery to be in

The prisoners despair



No place to hide

No place to sleep

Nowhere to escape

The pain is too deep.

Drowning myself.

I forget what sorrows,

Or whether I need them anymore.



I left myself and went to a world

Where I no longer need to crawl,

I went to a place,

Where I don't need to hide my face.



I can live with the disgrace,

I probably won't recall my actions,

And maybe I won't be able to function,

But its all ok, if just for now.



Call me pathetic,

Call me whatever you like,

In my state I won't hear

your condescending advice.



Because I never claimed I could do this alone,

And I'm more alive than I've ever known.

recollections

weaving fiction

farewell letters

to the world

written on

scraps of paper

cautionary tales

tempting revenge

on each victim's behalf

retribution springs absolute

judgment from the mind's soul

clever wording

great sex to the ever reading eye

deep down

all of us are reading Lolita

in the closet of the nearest church

shocking though it is

still

grandma would not be so appalled today

the world has grown up far more than her

parasitic thinkers

yes that includes even me

well at least

on 'The Outskirts Of Believability'

(Dec 22, 2003 545pm)

'Undisguised'

the moon in silent shivery white

proud pale eye to the darkened earth

a whimpering wind

seems to scatter the stars

transfixed lungs

give breathless birth

to grief

I so want to be there

among my celestial friends

the moon is tender with me

but my body is heavy

and no wings could I ever live

to possess

no gasses make up my molecules

no meteor shall ever shower through

my mass

I remain a heartbeat

cloaked in flesh

ever eager for the eventual escape

so graphic is the world

to my way of thinking

my soul

the painter of scattered myths

can only reflect upon

the world through

words gathered from

my fragmented thoughts

(Dec 8,2003 545am)

The sounds echo boundlessly down the long hall

From that pitch I hope the sax never does fall

As I tap my feet as I sit at my desk

I'm suddenly swept away into jazz and burlesque



The inspired impulse I no longer resist

As I dance away from my desk in a twist

The beat does get faster as I twirl and swirl

The fantasy of it all begins to unfurl



Is this really happening while I skylark and spin?

I close my eyes as I take in the lovely din.

Well, it doesn't matter just as long as it lasts

Oh please don't let all this sweet music fade fast.