sad

Were breaking apart
at the seams
your negative thoughts
about yourself kills
everybubble of happiness
with in me

Im about to let go
and let you fall
trust me i dont
want to but your
dragging me that way.

A long, old hallway divulges my secrets.

She looked at herself many times, whispers the mirror in a voice so hoarse it scratches like

sandpaper.

I have met her puzzle pieces time and again, croaks the toy-strewn floor.

She wandered up and down me when she had nothing else to do, confides the worn rug.

She danced her fingers along my shelves, says the pock marked book shelf.

She listented to music and sang along, blares the old green radio.

I know the soles of her feet like I know myself, sings the rung on the chair.

I have captured a moment of her youth, sing-songs the silver framed photograph.

The beating of her heart was my closest friend, whispers the torn, black shirt.

She loved her family, say the many cards lining the window sill.

But she is gone, they whisper together.

She is gone.

these days go by way to quickly for me to think
but too slowly for me to comprehend
they say that these are the 'good ol days'
but how can I savor them when I'm not with you
these feelings of hurt, of sadness, of anger and even hate
are washed away when I see you
But when I see you with her
All of those feelings come back
whether I want them to or not
They came forth at me like giant uncontrolable tidal waves
this emptiness inside of me yearns for a somebody
sombody to love and to hold
somebody to love me back

Missing you,
The way you look me in the eyes,
The way you laugh, talk, smile
When I’m with you my heart pounds fast,
When we’re apart my heart rips in two,
All my life I never thought I’d feel this way,
Laying on my bed, all alone in the dark, crying
Missing you…
I hug my pillow believing that its you,
I know there is other people in the world,
But i don’t want them i want you and only you.
One tear strolls down my cheek then another then another,
I won’t stop this till you’re right here by my side,
missing your smile, missing the things you do,
I sit on my bed,
Missing you…
I need you! I want you! and I’ll feel this way until I have you!
You wipe away my tears,
You frighten away my fears.
My life is incomplete without you,
My heart is apart till I have you,
I pray, I wish, and dream till the day I’ll be with you until then I’ll be here,
Missing you…

The leaves fall fast to the earth; they crunch under my converse. The air is crisp and the breeze is ruffling my dress. I see him, he seems so far away. The music plays gentle and sweet, like a mothers kiss to her fragile child. I hear the whispers of my family, my friends. I feel the warmth of my fathers body, standing so close to mine. See him; his eyes wide with fear and excitement. Everyone is staring at me. We walk. My dress shuffles, white silk gliding against the ground. We get to the end of our journey. My dad squeezes my hand, I turn to stare at him. A tear glides down his cheek: I reach up and brush it away. The piano man is playing our song. Butterfly Kisses, floats through the trees and over the lake. He kisses my forehead and backs away. I look around at all the faces I know and love. I force my quivering legs to walk forward. There he is, already crying. My sweet husband. I smile and look at my sisters, they smile back. Meg reaches up and takes my bouquet.

"You could love her, if you paid"
That's what the song told me.
Not what I meant.
Goddamn, I'm not really sad
I guess I was mad for a bit.
But now, I just sit.
Holy shit, I'm tearing up.
Eyes sting as I find the right letters.
I didn't know that this thread ran so deep.
I guess you never know...
Until it is pulled out.

(Wow. This surprised me. I honestly didn't realize this would happen.)

(This is kind of a stream of consciousness deal...I'm basically just writing lines that come to my head as I'm thinking about it, hence the choppy, unorganized-ness.)

(By the way, anyone recognize the song lyric at the beginning?

Yes. I know YOU do secular.mosh.pit, I was talking to the rest of the world.)

yes
im doing great
never been better and
surviving
yes
thats what im doing
know a days is
suviving and
living
yes
living this life that
i thought you made
hell for me but instead
it tured into
heaven
yes
heaven thats where i
live know because
you killed me
by letting go.

A victim
and a survivor.

Of what you may ask.

Of an honor killing,
a supposed murder
that kills an innocent girl,
so that makes it honorable.

But this girl had a purpose,
a reason to live
and to tell her story
to all that would witness it.

She was burned alive
by the decision of her parents,
she was saved by kind
city women.
In some places there are laws for this,
like numbers 97 and 98,
which say the murderer
goes to prison for at least six months,
usually they do not stay that long
and are considered heroes in their homes.

Time goes on and laws change,
but not 97 and 98,
they stay the same.

Though the girl has
a second chance,
she remembers her “slave” days
from her childhood.

Which no child,
male or female,
should endure.

From her beatings
she found nonviolent ways,
her peace of mind not there,
but her peace with people is all there.

Her first life
she writes down
into her book, with her
first born child in the pages.

There he stands,
Straight as a Statue,
In The Sands,
His eyes wildly Scream,
His lips Tightly Glued,
His Body looks week,
This is a strange man,
But Not to be Rude,
I say "i'd like to help you",

And with these words,
that strange man Burst,
Crying in The Sands Below,
Why he Grieved,
Why he Wept,
Things i did not know.

He Looks to me,
salt soaked tears,
bleeding down his cheeks,
"I didn't mean to"
"It's not my fault"
"please sir, tell me of what you speak"
Then with Just a glance at the Bloody Knife,
Now My Eyes Are The Ones Who Scream

The sun burns hot,
the shade sizzles cool.
My thoughts become distraught,
as i begin to mewl.
The incantation of my mind,
has reality twisted
I've found nothing to find,
except fact that fades to fiction,
i yearn for recourse
but i run these woods forlorn
this is life's remorse
my mind to me suborns.

Sitting, waiting. I was bouncing up and down. Out of control. I see you and at the moment, I don’t care. We ask to sit at our spot. We walk. I bounce, you watch. Lights out the night starts. Five dollars paid a heart in return blue ink bleeding into my skin. I turn and bounce as I wait for my girls to pay. Their hands get marked and I’m out of sight, already asking for my first can. They follow, as do you. At the moment all I can see is a small can with my escape sloshing around inside. I open and I chug. My veins react to this old friend. Poison drips in and the night truly begins.

Very grim video responce that i saw on google video, called Humans! Heres the link if your curious. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6594554782453026779&ei=hGWiSL2mJ...!

is pavement the disease? is it the one killing the people? or burning the forests? starting wars? connecting the wrong people? hard black rocky, mess. carved through the land. are the signs the minions? pointing us in the wrong direction? is the black smog more pavement? more chaos? look into that smog, breathe it in. ahhhh.... i see war, i see fear, i see death.
But whats this? rain? water? making the cracks? i see the earth now, fighting back against the disease? rock that needs to bee moved, a pond that needs to be drained. the smog is lifting, real fog will roll in.

It was time. We’d spent a month getting to know these kids and now, they were leaving. They’d learned so much; I was so proud, am so proud. They came to America to learn English, American’s and our customs - they’d accomplished that. I didn’t get to know everyone of them - I didn’t even meet half of them. For a month’s time, that seemed pretty pathetic.

Their is a time when hearts are broken

I wish you wouldn't have broke mine.

You don't understand how I feel

nobody does

That's why I ask you

Why you left me

You meant the world to me

you took it away

Kyle don't you see

I am head over heels

In love with you

I don't mean what I say When I said I hated you

Think that it is opposite

What I meant to say

Is I love you

kyle in every way

It was a grey man, ankle-deep in a grey landscape. His grey face with its sunken eyes that seemed to bulge in contrast to his bony, drawn features and lipless mouth was bent against the harsh wind whipping in from a blurred horizon. He slowly, lethargically trudged through the grey snow, his thin cap pulled down over the top of his ears, and his hunched shoulders protecting the bottoms. The iron sky would have been a mirror image of the snowy ground had it been covered hundreds, thousands, millions, of dejected, scrawny creatures. They hadn’t known why they were there when they got there, and none of them could remember whether they had ever known who they were. Either way, they knew neither now.

Accident

The car, was going fast,
and the driver was tired.
Too tired.
So tired he was asleep.
They were both asleep,
and neither of them knew,
What was about to happen.
The car skidded.
More like flew, across the road,
The flying piece of iron,
Hit a tree, and the tree was big,
Too big.
The sound was loud.
The crashing of metal,
The crack of wood.
Sparks were flying, the fire had started,
Sirens and flashing lights,
Swarmed onto the scene, trying.
Trying to save two loved ones,
that were about to be lost.
But it was late.
Too late.
Two people died that day.
An uncle, brother, son, and soon to be father,
A grandfather, a dad, a husband, a loved one.
Although we are still recovering,
Things are better.
We will live through

Once there was a girl
She thought she was going to die
A sallow complexion
And dark baggy eyes.
The doctors told her,
There’s nothing they could do.
Maybe it was just the flu.

Once there was a girl
The doctors said she would die.
A sallow complexion
And dark baggy eyes.
The doctors told her,
Only seven months
Not once,
Did she ask why.

Once there was a girl,
Her mother found her dead.
Laying lifeless
On a hospital bed.
No complexion,
Or bags on her eyes.
With no reasons why.

Once there was a mother,
Found her daughter dead
On a hospital bed.
No complexion,
Or bags on her eyes.
She never
Could really know why.

Where is the warrior of dragonflies?
He has no tempered sword with which to fight
No more tears to shed when a good man dies.

Instead his silence calms the darkened skies,
Lifts the souls from silv’ry grass by starlight,
Where is the warrior of dragonflies?

His breath is like the waking dawn that sighs
And brushes shattered shields with rays of light;
No more tears to shed when a good man dies.

Somewhere a village hangs its head and cries
Time’s stoic hands build graveyards at twilight.
Where is the warrior of dragonflies?

He descends again and although he tries
His heart does not throb for the souls in blight;
No more tears to shed when a good man dies.

Today a war is fought but glory lies;
Victory cannot raise a fallen knight.
Where is the warrior of dragonflies?
No more tears to shed when a good man dies.

So much sadness
and anger
is balled up in my throat
too hard for me to swallow
too hard for me to let go

"why did this happen?"
I ask myself.
"how on earth, did this become such an issue for me?"
hmn...
"Is this all really my fault?"
The quesitons roll around in my thick skull
Forcing the ball to become sufficatingly big.

with each question,
came another tear, followed by one more
With the questions left unanswered,
I remained in silence
as the ball in my throat
grew larger
than what I had planned

"is there a reason why, I let this go on ignored?"
the pain comes as I try to swallow the ball,
and tears are rushing
down my smooth, soaked, cheeks
"it's all my fault...isn't it...?.."

Can't see,
through my flooded eyes
too much is happening
too many thoughts
too many questions without answers
too much time left in my life to get answers

my lungs are burning up,
like a forest fire
I can't breathe
I can't concentrate
I can't think
I can't do anything,
right now

darkness seems to eat me up
as the ball grows larger,
in my throat
the light in the room I'm in slowly seems
to be dropping down to almost a black
which only makes me cry harder,
making the tears come faster,
the ball in my throat doesn't release itself
there is no way for me to get rid of it

there is still,
way too much going on
I seem to be floating in the blackness
of pain,
agony,
sadness,
anger,
it tries to comfort me somehow
but all I do is try to ignore it
get rid of it
but ending up
hurting me worse than the ball in my throat
it sits there as if I swallowed a piece of iron,
metal, or steal,
but otherwise something that would still hurt
and not care to be causing pain

as the darkness seems to get darker, blacker
I close my eyes,
pushing out all of the tears of my eyes,
pouring them down my red cheeks
and in my attempt to shove away all of the blackness,
I end up blacking out, myself,
and going into a
deep,

Five simple words can explain it all.
I am losing a friend.
She came here, and we had so much in common.
The smiles, the laughter,
will shortly be nothing but memory
faded away into eternaty

Four simple words can explain it all.
She is moving away.
It is not her fault, but her dad needs a job.
money must come, money must go.
I guess money is better than friends.

Three simple words can explain it all.
She is leaving.
Leaving the rest of us behind,
including one of the best friends she's ever had.

Two simple words can explain it all.
Distances hurt.
No emails or phone calls can replace having a real friend.

One simple word can explain it all.
Gone.

When I hear the word Grandpa, this is what I think of.

I think of my Opa. Opa means Grandfather in German. My Opa died when I was in second grade, but I will always remember him. My Opa was probably the most artistic man on the face of the Earth. I believe this because he made countless beautiful pictures. But he will never be able to create any more paintings,and that makes me want to be with him again. I loved him. Then, one day, he disappeared from the human eye. Why couldn't he come back? Why couldn't he still be there with me? I wanted him right then and there...to come back.
My Opa was so much fun, too. He'd talk and laugh when my family and I came,
and he'd be waiting for us when we came to visit. When I saw him at the door, I felt great because I thought he'd always be there for us, but I guess I was wrong. I miss his jolly face so much. I try to imagine it, but it is just not the same. I want him around forever-I needed him forever!
I never even noticed that death was approaching.
I remember when I was little and I fell asleep on his lap. He was so cozy. I can almost still feel my skin on his warm flannel shirt.
I remember, maybe a week after he died, I had a dream that he came back. For that whole night, I actually thought he was still alive,but now I know that that is not true.
My Oma(grandma)is 91 and really lonely now that Opa died. I know exactly how she feels-weak, and like you'd never be happy again.
And that is true. I never really will get over the fact that he died. I want him to be around forever and ever. It is so hard to lose someone you love so much.
At the funeral, the priest said words about how Opa would be happy in his new home but would miss us very much. Well, at least that was what I knew. I cried thinking of how I would never see his merry face again,except in old photographs. Why did he need to leave us? I guess it was just time.
And that is what comes to my mind when I hear the word grandpa-My Opa.

let us have a another cry
for the death that has gone by

let us live another day
whithout a dismay

let us remember you
and all that you have been through

let us love you forever
because being whithout you is a huge endeavor

You’d trip,
And fall down the stairs
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d be riding your bike
You’d hit a bump
And fall forward over the handle bars
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d drop your fork underneath the table
You’d bend down to pick it up
You’d sit up and hit your head on the table
He would definitely say
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

After a while you think,
All this is,
Is common sense,
You just like to hear him say it
You would wait,
And think,
And then act stupid again
He doesn’t say a thing.

You cry yourself to sleep at night
Wishing he would,
Say it just one more time
But he can’t
And you know it.
You just don’t want to believe it.

Right about now,
He would probably say,
"Toughen' up,
Buttercup."

But tears would still
Be falling

You tell me to smile
Because I am a happy person…
Really,
I am?
I think you are mistaken,
Or maybe,
You don’t know whats going through my mind.
I feel as if,
I am always left out,
Like I don’t belong.
I never really have anywhere,
So it doesn’t really matter.
Sometimes,
When you talk to me,
You tell me that you all got together,
Without me.
I was never invited.
It kind of hurts being left out.
For once,
I thought I fit in,
But I think I messed that up…
Maybe I’ll get it right someday…

There's a girl i know from Vermont
to write sad poetry is her wont
but she cuts herself
destroys her health
just for her body to flaunt.

A thousand tear drops rolling down your own cheeks are healed by a single tear on the shoulder of a friend.

Sometimes, hearing your own voice makes the pain worse, while hearing a sympathetic reply is all the tylenol you will need.

If faith can move moutains, imagine what understanding could do.

In the beginning, we were stuck in a new place, with a new time, with a new race. We were together. We looked around and there were no memories, we knew Africa and ourselves, but their was nothing in between. We had to love each other, we had to take care of each other, we could not walk away. We were stuck, but we were happy we were there with nothing we knew, it was a clean slate.

John,

I watched, waiting
drifting so smoothly,
downwards, fading,
melting intensely,
I was hoping
you could see inside of you...
You're so beautiful
Dangerous,
You were,
so unfamiliar to me,
as you pushed me away.
Your
Voice
Shook.

"I see in my dreams the same things
People claim to see in life,
It's a torture I can't bear.
You're there floating here on your wings,

Waking up, he turned on his side, facing the emptiness of the bed that will forever remain a memory of all the things left unsaid. This is nothing new. Every morning, he wakes up, the emptiness left from the night before more a part of his life now than Keiran ever was.