… is everything.
The courage to stand
Reply
Desk Rabbit
Let’s shake on it
so we can muster the courage
to walk onstage, face the crowd
take a dive
and plunge into
darkness
Let’s pinky promise
to keep in touch,
be the next of kin
donate blood if we must
meet our significant others
Let’s not fake it, boy
it benefits no one
(not at this stage anyway)
to “care” without really investing
ourselves.
A poem by Duffboy
Forever Puzzles – Features – 18/09/2011
Forgive me, the features are a couple of days late. I forgot, got mixed up with all the cleanup going on.
Sometimes things are fragmented, you’re not quite sure where everything is going and try to find an anchor or a map. This is what today’s features are about.
This image seems so simple when you first look at it, but there’s a world of meaning in the faded red glory.
Fading Passion by © Laurie Search
The words seemed to fit perfectly what I felt when I saw the image.
Venus Goes Retrograde by © Jenifer DeBellis
It never quite goes back to the way it was.
What was once healthy and taut has been pulled
and stretched and ripped, pushing the limits
of what nature’s elasticity was intended to contain.
Life-giving veins are overrun with toxins,
circulating bile and sludge in this river of blood.
Scrambling hands hold fatty piles of neglected flesh
as they droop and dip in their chaotic imbalance.
There’s nothing the latest fad plan can do to fix
the acute symptoms that have been ignored.
There’s nothing modern medicine can do to fix
malignant growth left too long to its own devices.
Surgically, most things can be repaired or altered
to appear as they once were, but to fool a heart
that knew every crease, crevice and flaw?
To restore years of neglect as if it never happened
is an impossibility within a sea of improbabilities.
Yet there you stand, with my heart in your hand.
Seems such a waste of a vibrant, potent organ.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could bottle up our love and ‘bathe’ in it whenever we want to?
Love Itself… by © Tracey Mac
And here it is – the things you can do, the things you can stand and the things you survive if you have love.
HAVE YOU EVER by © cosimopiro
Have you ever danced naked
on the tip of a flame
or skipped on ripples
of a butterfly’s wake,
have you ever rode bareback
the wrath of a hurricane
or swam the molten rock
of a volcano’s lake?
Have you ever leapt blind
from a shooting star
or slipped down the throat
of a crescent moon,
have you ever touched
the screaming of a devil’s scar
or be trapped
in a spider’s cocoon?
Have you ever flown
in a hungry vulture’s eyes
or walked in a nightmare
of a lonely ghost’s dread,
have you ever drank
the sobs of a whale’s last cries
or desperately held
a heartbreak in a madman’s head?
Well…. have you ever?
I can’t say I’ve had such days,
but hell,
some moments feel like it!
If not for you
and Love’s caring ways
I’d crumble in a heap
bit…. by…. bit.
But things don’t always go smoothly and the devil will have its way and put obstacles in front of us we have to overcome, and rarely do we realise that it was those obstacles that helped us grow until much later.
Me and the Devil by © Jessica Walker
The friends we make and lose and re-make along the way…
Catharsis, or, Ode to Former Best Friends by © singerchick
I.
I wonder,
If I wear my argyle knee socks
And the chunky-heeled Mary Janes you adored,
Will I miss you?
Will I miss singing Journey in your kitchen
While helping you pack?
Will I miss the inside jokes, the giggling, and the feeling of belonging?
Will I miss biting my tongue because I don’t want to hurt you,
Or the ensuing drama when I fail to hold back?
Will I shed a tear because I believe you hate me?
Or will I simply smile because we once shared space
In one another’s lives,
And try to be a better (not bitter) person because of
The things I’ve learned about myself in the process (of knowing and losing you)?
Thanks for the memories …
II.
If there’s ever been one constant in our relationship,
It’s definitely inconsistency.
You floated in and out of my life (and good graces) as though brought in by an erratic tide
Or the prevailing winds—
At times carried on a light zephyr, and at others swirling tempestuously—
But always you come back, and for that I love you.
III.
I was truly bewildered by your good-bye,
Yet grew accustomed to the subsequent silence.
Once the self-righteous anger (and pain) subsided, I mourned and moved on
Only to be stunned by your out-of-the-blue apology.
(It’s okay, blue is my favorite color!)
Now we’re somewhere in the limbo between forgiveness and friendship
(Only I don’t know how to limbo. I’ve never been that agile!)
And I don’t know what the future holds,
But I know Who holds it.
I’m cautiously trusting…
Sometimes too much is just too much and we have to keep it at bay and ourselves distant.
Let Your Hand Do The Talking by © James Leader
At the end of the day we can only be who we are and not the faces people put on us.
You don’t make sense, why should i? by © DominicSavio
if i
bathe Your
feet
in
tears
will You call me Mary and
remember my
face?
will you embrace me
if I left
my
limbs
in the past?
can
You
stretch out my love
like
elastic to make it
last?
will
You touch me because i dance?
[am i lego
because You always
take me
apart
and put me back
together
again
but You said
this isn’t a coincidence
when
i begged You
“please
no more coincidences
i just need
to
heal”]
There are always dreams…
Dreams by © Matteo Pontonutti
And when those dreams are shattered there are the fragments of self, floating around, trying to find a place to settle and become.
Fragments by © ShadowDancer
I come to you in fragments of a dream
pieces & stems
& half chewed morsels of flesh
alive, dripping with honey
bittersweet
my eyes an awkward attempt
at seduction
digging my way down to your open
wound
to lick away your tears
Only sometimes the puzzle pieces can’t be put together again and we have to try and forget.
Trying to forget him… by © Eliza1Anna
And we start the long process of renewing ourselves, of becoming whole again.
Unraveling by © reindeer
My mind needs an unraveling
a transformation
a disentangling
a freedom from complication.
I am
a reflection
of all that is in it.
What does everyone see?
Engage my mind,
affect my mind…Holy Spirit.
Please
resurrect
and clear
my mind.
Might I have
a mind
like
His?
Hope you liked today’s (belated) features. Please say hello to the artists and writers and let them know you enjoyed their work. xo
Features for week of August 29, 2011
Barely There by lroof
You don’t make sense, why should i? by DominicSavio
if i
bathe Your
feet
in
tears
will You call me Mary and
remember my
face?
will you embrace me
if I left
my
limbs
in the past?
can
You
stretch out my love
like
elastic to make it
last?
will
You touch me because i dance?
[am i lego
because You always
take me
apart
and put me back
together
again
but You said
this isn’t a coincidence
when
i begged You
“please
no more coincidences
i just need
to
heal”]
You Will Hinder My Growth No More Love… by Christina Rodriguez
Oddly pertinent gibberish by redolentquill
I live hoping,
one day to see-
the world bursting
out, in cackling poetry.
Bizarre dreams !?
Logic pockets
were ever undone at seams…
Still pure, still unsure!
And certainly finding yin!Horses galloping over clouds
across fields of carrots
and cheeky tomatoes
and splat, I end
gooey-kneed, elbowing
pulpy tomatoes, blowing
steam off my nose-
and yet I’m a rose!
You’ll baptize me ever again-
the golden bud flower grain.I come noiselessly washing
down every terrain-
water and rain
never slain, never slain!
Alone, the drops close on me
enclose me in a globe, show me
the meaning of chills-cold-within
the forming of pearls-old-akin.Occupied or deserted,
I am but space!
Time, how do you
manage to coil
infinitely around
me, telling me at
every bend, that
you are new, and
that ‘its’ you!
outcast by strawberries
Coin Tale by Arcadia Tempest
A compliment from a stranger is that unverified hello that contains the unknown.
I saw her today.
I’m the stranger and she’s the other stranger with our feet sweeping the same track most mornings.
The track is our unlikely cement match maker.
She first caught my attention by her presence.
Some people can stand in a way that even from the back you know they brim with a modest self assurance, a tidy kind of confidence.
I love it when I see the picture from a back view.Her hair intrigues and conjures lovely thoughts.
I’d like to hold a few strands of her hair and let the sun bring out the hidden tints but it’s also not a comfortable aspiration.
My hesitation comes with my usual indignant pause that I’m once again proving I’m not like the others that gather each morning as we wait for that over zealous decibel rated school bell to ring.This morning my words had formed to speak to her about her beautiful red hair but instead I gulped inwards and my resolve fell under my shoes and I scuttled away.
Then there it was, I looked back right into her face and it hit me ….I realized I didn’t want to know her face.
There was no connection to the front of her, I only wanted to speak my words in my head to the back of her.
I want this relationship to be a one sided coin.
I know I will enjoy our next conversation when she walks ahead of me in that steady language of easy east going west step.
Ohh…I hope she steps into the sunlight for me.© K S Hardy 2011
Bruise by Glitterfest
regrets by Nathan Emery
the unrest in my heart
to hear your voice
and feel your lips and skin
will not subside.
i miss you,
though it’s been barely a week
but your eyes
and voice still haunt me.
the memories,
are so amazing;
the concrete jungle and the canopy
of glass and brick
stretching so far above us,
but not above our hearts.
i think i love you…
and it terrifies me
because maybe it’s just what you were,
and not what you are,
but it’s love all the same.
how i wish,
to see you tonight,
and every other night after
holding my hand
and holding my heart.
i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t hard
to leave you 500 miles
behind.
Clipped by Matteo Pontonutti
i breathe in Red by Greeneyedlady
i hear her whisper
how old is this tight place
drawn over your heart?
it is as old as Forever, i replyi feel lightheaded
the air is hot now and heavy
with a moisture that will not fall
still crystalline tears
scratch their way down my face
waves of arid cries that once could die
in my throat
threatening, threateningmy body burns and tingles
it’s energy glowing Red
weaving around my edges
it pounds across my head
and breaks away
i breathe in Red
i push angry fire out
at least that little bit escapes
i hear the rest of it clamoring
waiting enviously to follow
Angry Monsters by Barbara Zuzevich
remember that, always. by Alondra Blick
Your eyes open slowly
and once again
I am on a long road
watching the dawn
ache across that pale
sky.
We are quiet
enough
to hear the sparrows
rise miles off
in the distance
and the lightness
is unbearable.
It is the small things
that will return
to you.
Remember that
always.
The smell of thunder
when you lifted your hand
past me
to light a cigarette.
The perfect sorrow
of sadness and smoke.
As we drive,
the sun beats from
behind the blur of
the trees
and the skyline
and I think,
what a strange beauty
it is
that from the moment
we met
the world has seemed to
rush by
with no form.
Just a wash of colours
and changing light
through your open
car window.
August 21, 2011 Features
As I was browsing through the many great artworks by TBF members, I realized it’s fun to let your imagination run wild and make a story that connects using various artworks. This tale has a tragic ending.
Stairway to Heaven by Smudgers Art
Strasburg’s Night by Igor Zenin
feathers on the wind by Alenka Co
SKYCLAD SWORD by ArtofMorgaine
The Deeper You Go by Laurie Search
cool breeze by Ingz
Fairy Tale ~ Chateau Noisy by Jospehine Pugh
The Key to Many Hearts by James Leader
I can’t decide if I’ll let you save my life or if I’ll drown… by Tracey Mac
I am what you made me by strawberries
Message in a Bottle by Tamarra BaVincio
Night Walker by cosimopiro
Don’t be too dismissive of shifting sounds in the night
where persistent scratching on frosted window
may be the talons of ghoulish intentions;
where disembodied breathing that chills our spinal chord
be a madman’s razor laughter…
… and what of those twigs crunching blindly behind us
like brittle bones of curious wanderers,
as we walk innocently through a misty forest,
are they the creeping footsteps of a dark hunter’s quest
for beating hearts to feed upon?
Don’t be too casual
of shadows that float by in the corners of moonlight trickery,
elusive masked phantoms of light they may be,
sent to distract us from rational thought.
And that howling wind whistling a blood curdling tune
through the cracks of our stairways to Paradise,
might not that be the approach of sinister wants
to begin our dark imaginings?
Look behind the doors and under beds,
put the stuffed dolls in cupboards and cover the clown
before you lay your head to slumber,
for ruthless teeth await to chatter over flesh
and cacti tongues long to prickle our hopes
to suck and empty us of our deepest desires.
Draw the curtains,
for unseen eyes in the cover of darkness
watch our naïve comfort
ready for sleep to take us to their haunts
to peel our skin back to parade their skilful conquest;
and searching fingers pressing,
seeking our open mouths to slip the moans of ghosts
down our vulnerable throats
to possess our dreams and make them their own.
There be skeletons here,
of past dreams and childhood fancies,
that rise from the depths of blood filled oceans
to claim back flesh
before rot crawled and stripped it from sensual delights.
When alone and you feel warm breath upon your neck
but sends a chill from the grave to the end of your toes,
do you dare look behind
or do you close your eyes
and become a nightwalker ready to face your true fears?
The Ways of Travel – Features – 14/08/2011
Since these are the Summer months and many people are enjoying their holidays, I thought travel would be the perfect theme for this week’s features. However, travelling can be done in many ways: we travel to other places, inside and out, we travel with people, we watch other people travel through their lives and we talk of our journeys and impart the wisdome we have gained.
We’re starting with the ‘normal’ trip to another country, another place… Venice – wonderful all year round.
Rialto by © TaniaLosada
There is something about travel that brings about the best or worst in us. This is the best, when you help your fellow traveller.
courage III by © uncleblack
here, let me take that,
let me carry it awhile
so the forms are made,
lines and colours
create the different shapes.
i can hold this,
sit down, this can be shared
ages wither and fade in time
we learn to prop up the old ones,
learn that our time will come.
you will never see the things
i have seen
the canyon was once a stream,
and i will see what will come
after you
as my skin is still young.
let me take this for a while
season this moment with courage,
let us both taste, now,
the beauty of our lives.
We take trips not just without, but within where there’s a whole universe (maybe many of them) which are well worth seeing…
astral travel by © vampvamp
That’s where the greatest disoveries are made – within.
IT ENDS WITHIN! by © cosimopiro
It ends here!
So… I offer this,
my battered armour,
my sword sheathed in its place of rest,
and I take up in their place instead
a pen and flimsy paper
to wrap you in the words of a condemned man
who finally found his voice.
I am a condemned man;
condemned by religious bigotry,
condemned by political agendas,
condemned by social class,
condemned by racial slurs.
I stand before you
judged by fear and hate,
cast out to the fringes
before the trial began.
In fact I was condemned before I was born;
condemned by the DNA of sin,
condemned by the past guilt of ancestors,
condemned by the stories of conquerors,
condemned by the swift hands of injustice.
I was born with the mark of a devil
and a crown of thorns
embedded deep in my psyche…
…such abuse should never be placed
upon the heads of innocence…
As a child I was told,
“Harden your heart,
toughen your skin,
tighten your grip,
don’t rock the boat, son,
toe the line, boy,
It’s a tough world out there,
no place for dreamers or losers!”
… and I never questioned who made it thus…
… but it is us
who carry the lies and deceits of monarchs, pontiffs, and generals,
we who question not
those who command our youth into wars,
who even in peace time
sit on their golden thrones
and feed us crumbs to keep us pecking.
CUT ME!
… cut me and I’ll bleed,
break my heart and I’ll cry,
threaten me and I’ll be fearful,
but put me in shackles?
I WILL BREAK FREE!
For although I am steeped in condemnation
and I am guilty of silent resignation,
I’LL BE DAMNED
IF I’LL CARRY THIS CURSE ANY FURTHER!
IT… ENDS… HERE!
… within…
Sometimes we find a fellow traveller to share some of the distance with us…
I Found Love On A Two-Way Street by © Tamarra BaVincio
and sometimes we find ourselves alone again, to travel onwards to new destinations.
someone by © Nathan Emery
someone please turn off the sound
of everything
because i’m so damn tired
of listening
eyes are heavy
and i’m worn down
so please love or hate me now-
but choose
because falling off
is scarier than jumping off.
the days are blurring together
into what feels like seconds
and i hate it.
god how i hate it.
everyone is leaving-
oh wait that’s me
and maybe i’m just waiting
for someone to take my hand
and pull me away
from the ledges i always get lost on.
but now i’m rotting
in ten story air.
i wish someone
would just tell me the god damn truth
cause i’m so sick
of second guessing the world
when all I want
is someone to love.
and it feels like tonight will be
the last time i will ever breathe
in your company
and i can’t do anything about it
until it’ll be too late,
cause i’ve always lived
a few minutes behind.
it’s this air i breathe;
i swear somedays it’s poison
and makes my stomach empty
like the words i say.
but i hope someday
someone will hold my hand
and give me an escape;
into their eyes and heart,
and maybe climb the walls
around mine.
When we’re young it’s easy to seize the day, and make every second last a life time. It comes naturally.
Every Second of Every Day by © tori yule
It’s when we get older that we listen for the silence and our place in it.
Silence Is. by © imagineation
Silence is eraser shavings.
It is the space in-between a smile and a goodbye. A word and the page it is no longer on.
Silence is a mouth interrupted. A hug halfway through. An arm around the waist for a second.
It is the last three words of a sentence cut short. Because no one was listening anyway.
Silence is an unsent letter.
It is signing your name by listening too hard.
Silence is a siren on what must be a busy street, the clatter of what must’ve been a misplaced dish, the beep beep beep of a dial tone.
Silence is when you hear the most
Because you’re listening so hard
For something else.
We watch our children start on their journeys and we hope and we pray.
Run baby, run! by © Caterpillar
We treasure every moment of all the time we spent together and hope for more.
I Have Only Met You by © kashmirecho
I have only met you
Only known you a short while
And already you are leaving
Traveling across the country
To start a new journey
In a new place
Let’s hope our time apart
Is short in the scheme of things
And that we will see each other again
And spend many more moments together
Making splendid memories
As we have already done
We try to impart some knowledge and wisdom before our ways part.
The Godkeeper 32 by © Alenka Co
And, once we go on different journeys, what is left but travel within to find ourselves.
What is growth but a difference between now and then? by © DominicSavio
I would do anything for
you
but what do I
do
when the thing I have
to
is nothing?
That’s when
the tables have turned
you see
and the question becomes
not what do I do with
you
but what [the heck]
do I do
with
me?
I hope you enjoyed the journey. Please tell the artists and leave a comment on their pages if you liked what you saw. Have a lovely weekend!
Touched by Fire – Features for the week of August 7, 2011
Hi everyone, a few days ago I chose this week’s features. An interesting mix of drama, visual metaphors, sensibility and overall statements. Please congratulate all the wonderful and talented artists. Duffboy
“its paradox” by robinellenlucas
ever emerging
all sides
of you
choose the
one in your now
who is
in between
your dark night
your early dawn
rising
because it knows
what to do
…next
is it the
mystery
u n f o l d i n g
its view
its paradox
that chooses
without limits
to protect you?
© r.e.l. 7/20/11
“Your spirit looks a lot like the fog but boy do I know the difference” by DominicSavio
Oh God
Your
spirit
in
vades
my
person
hood
like a
spiral
around
my
spine and
You
wrap
around
my
spirit
man
like a choker
with black
ribbon
and
precious
gems
like
replicas
of
Your eyes
and I
am
ice
without
You.
“The Loop” by RC deWinter
It does no good to say “Forget,”
what is experienced burns in the brain.
It does no good to say “Move on,”
what is within simply follows along.
And not looking back doesn’t alter
the past or wipe away memories, feelings, intent.
If buried, these things resurrect
doggedly as surely as some claim Christ rose from the tomb.
But they appear not miraculously
restored but as ragged skeletons clothed with shreds of flesh,
now grinning, exhibiting their
fragile framework for what it ever was –
a wish, a hope, a dream, a curse –
to accompany silently down all the years
the unfortunate pilgrim who
struggles to make sense of misplaced affection,
unfounded trust, perception
colored by desire and losses that could not be cut,
but must be paid for again
and again with the rising and setting of the
eternal sun.
© 2011 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
“inVisible” by wildwomenlove
As a receptacle for your rape and pillage
i remain invisible
to your lost sense of humanity
As a middle child to the nuclear family
i remain invisible
to your parental nurture
As a daughter to women who cherish men
i remain invisible
to your favouritism
As you label me a person with some kind of incapacity
my achievements remain invisible
to your boxed-in concepts
As an artist in a world motivated by greed
i remain invisible
to your economic rationalism
As a child in a world of responsibility
my childlike wisdoms remain invisible
as they fall upon deaf ears
As a mother waiting tables of bloodline
i remain invisible
to your gratitude and recognition of value
As aging attempts to put all my eggs in one basket
i become invisible
in a society which romanticizes youth
The flame of my Self burns brightly
whether it is seen by others or not
it lights my way
on my death bed I will meet my Self
and all shall be visible
Once and for all
Blessed be
© wildwomenlove poetry
“Uncontrollablefailure” by Nathan Emery
She
fell down so far,
out of my reach
but not out of my sight.
I watched her
crash and burn
in the bottom of a bottle of crown
and I tried to reach down
but she didn’t even look up
to see my expression;
the red in my eyes.
I didn’t want to let her go
but she was never
really in my grasp.
So maybe I’m the one that fell;
into a bottle of vodka and vicoden,
to drown her out
to drown the world out…
to drown me out.
She split and spilt in every direction
except the one I was standing in;
just trying to catch her,
trying to clean her up
but missing every single drop.
“lay down now, little sister” by greeneyedlady
i still see him
walking up and down the darkened street
he held a shotgun in his hands
he held our lives as he always had
and two faces too little to be seen
were peeking over the edge of the windowsill
and i was whispering hollow words
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans
and for the fear he brought down
a father’s raucous shouts and a mother’s terrified cries
shatter the quiet of the night
would he shoot the gun?
she knew very well he might
and she waited
for the night to edge a little toward the light
and when the neighbors said settle down
or we’re calling the police, man
i thought
they’ll take you in and dry you out
and i hope you never get out of the can!
but for any of you who have ever tried
to reason with a wickedly drunken man
well, you know the decision to put the gun down
wasn’t made out of love at all
he just stepped wrong took a little fall
and it dropped from his unsteady hands….
now i don’t know how we ever did it
how we managed to pretend it never happened
our eyes would meet but we’d just look away
and two faces, too little to understand
but never too old to pretend
to be sleeping
in their beds
in that house
in the way that only scared little kids can
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans…
Artemis by Lynnette Shelley
End by Matteo Pontonutti
White Light by Lissie Rustage
Porcine by Lynnette Shelley
The Pecking Order by Glitterfest
4 Eyes by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne
Goddess of the Mountains – Winner of “Touched by Wind” challenge
Goddess of the Mountains is the winner of the “Touched by air – the wind” challenge.
Features July 31st 2011
My theme for this week is women and winged creatures (e.g. birds and butterflies). No particular reason except that after more than one image I liked contained these elements I decided to continue in the same vein. Enjoy!
Those Watchful Eyes
by Matteo Pontonutti
The Owl Lady’s Midnight
by MaureenTillman
The Crow Knows
by MaureenTillman
Girl with Magpie
by Sybille Sterk
there was a girl ..
by Alenka Co
COLOUR IS THE BEST FRIEND OF BEAUTY
by GittiArt
So Close…
by Sandra Bauser Digital Art
From Rebecca Tun
Features for the week of 7/17/11
Dreamy…neurotic…eerie. Enjoy =)
![[ tren de vise ] by](https://i0.wp.com/ih1.redbubble.net/work.6564173.1.flat,300x300,075,t.jpg)
[ tren de vise ] by Irina & Silviu Szekely
Crawl Away
The Red runs all down your arms, from the mess where your fingertips used to be, to the slices on your palms, to the grazes on your forearms. There are only two things going through your mind.
One, get somewhere small, dark and safe.
Two, how good The Red feels now that it’s all over you again.
You pull yourself to somewhere dark and safe, where the little shadow boy inside you comes out again, and his tears mix with The Red and you take your grief out on the thinning crystal box of your mind.
A Boy called Star
a symptom of neurotic insecurity by strawberries
The Collector II
People placed just so
Against a wall
Or in a corner
Ready to be moved
At a moment’s whim
A world filled with
Statues, puppets
A shadow play
Everything stays
Monochrome
A game
A toy train
Going round
Round in circles
Choo-choo
A one-way street
No connection
Just a need
Born from the want
To belong
Reviewed with
A smug smile
A pleased grin
A blindfold
Glued to the face
Until the day
The light goes off
The ceiling comes down
The walls fall apart
Brick by brick
No safety net
All is still
All is quiet
No reply
No answer
The blindfold slips
Realisation hits
The world
Has moved on
Somewhere else
Sybille Sterk
Waiting to Hatch by Matteo Pontonutti
Existence
This mound of earth
No longer an island home for thousands,
Surrounded by the sea
The sea that gently, but insistently
Lashes against it sides
Eating away at it until it is no more
And no one remembers
If it ever existed here
And I,
Just like the mound of earth
My body tugged at
By death
Gently, but insistently,
Firmly,
Until I am no more
And no one remembers,
If I ever existed here.
Paul (Quixote) Alleyn
Midnight at La Fenice by AngiandSilas
States of Known Depression
Circular characters darken the front of the stand alone train
Following trails of thought across tracks in the deep winters rain
Cold and lonely existence through states of known depression
Memories infest and embed like maggots manifest repression
Swatting the fly on the wall, ending life with no thought
Stains of blood creep down, infectious to the mind you caught
In the open room where nothing is there, walls washed white
All known desires fade, adrenaline kicks in, fight or flight?
Question the means and purposes of the dissonant realms
Incoherent dispiriting attacks devastate and overwhelm
What is the purpose?
Why does one wish to acquire happiness?
A useless yet desirable state
Intense joy a depressive learns to dispossess
As we constantly think about our inevitable fate
Death
A taboo to talk but an act we do alone
In our own time, without rational choice
Screaming at loved ones in angry tones
The ones who look forward are the ones that constantly look back…
Regretful people who wanted a different course through life
Wishing to change decisions and cut old journeys with a knife
Envying the people who are happy and ignorant
Ones with minds free of impotence
Depression an illness that catches the many
Locking themselves in, throwing away the key
Offer a hand, be willing to see
That depression is an illness, and depression caught me.
HamperRefuser
The Waning Phase of The Man in The Moon by Laughing Bones
Psychic in Cyberspace
“I see a man mistakenly
in love with a computer,
with its sublimely neutral
world of details blooming
bountiful in its infinitely
trivial vitality, and he is
probing manfully for that
one essential but improbable
fact, that microscopic
mechanism throbbing
sweetly somewhere out
in the exponentially,
increasingly populous
night between the stars –
or the atoms – but the
virtual universe has such
surface-tension shimmering
iridescent all over the
theoretically expanding bubble
… bursting someday… so
hurry, hurry and locate
and identify it before she
can flower and fruit and
give birth to the competition.”
nancyames
Touched by Fire 