Please

Please
don't go
don't leave me just yet.

Please
just stay
and hold me oh so tight.

Please
see here
i love you more than you know.

Please
listen
you don't know me at all.

Please
goodbye
it's time for us to part.

Please
leave me
or you'll just break my heart.

A little deeper

You never thought anyone would notice.
Hell, you never thought it mattered.

It started small,
(Doesn't everything?)
With an idle nick on the point where your wrist met your palm
Using a rusty penknife you found.
You never knew what you were getting into.

You searched it up, and realised that cutting on the wrists was too easy;
The internet said you were seeking attention,
And you weren't, goddammit.
Attention was never your goal.
This wasn't some weird cry for help.

You just wanted the hole in your gut to feel a little less empty.

It grew, though.
Like a monster it latched onto your heart and grew.
It fed on your hurt.

You found out why people, when they hide, preferred their thighs:
It hurt more, bled more.
After a while, you just started wearing knee height shorts at home.
No one ever questioned it. It was the beginning of the rainy and cool season.
Why would anyone question it?

Hell, for them to question it, they'd have to notice you were there first.

Some days, though, you wished you weren't.
It didn't seem worth it.
You trudged through your day and passed off everything as a bore.

And on those days, the blade dug a little deeper.

World of lies

Without sun and without love,
Smile and laugh, you precious dove.
But back home, you start to cry,
Welcome to my world of lies.

People shout and people scream,
Cover your ears, too much it seems,
You don't hear them, you deny,
Welcome to my world of lies.

In your head you're so scared,
You really are unprepared.
IV drips and bloodshot eyes,
Welcome to my world of lies.

See the razor, feel the pain,
Blood drips down and skin it stains.
Pull your sleeves and appear shy,
Welcome to my world of lies.

Slit your wrists and cut your thighs,
Fake a smile and dry your eyes.
Hate yourself and hate your life,
Welcome to my world of lies.

Sonnet 6

Acidic secrets melt through placid guts
and leave a hole, a pit, a missing piece
that only truth can find when it breaks free,
but truth, for now, is gone- and stomachs burn.
As flesh and bone alike are charred to ash,
and nothing can restore the gaping hole,
and I am left to clutch at my remains;
I know it's all my fault and I deserve
this horrid fate- pathetic, flailing limbs;
and pain that burns and freezes me at once;
and oh, the secrets tearing through my heart,
consuming all; and I am empty now.

If pain was all I had once, now I know
that hollow, emptiness is worse a fate.

---------

No rhymes this time, because, well, I don't know, I got sick of rhymes, and they're so difficult. I wrote this just before going to sleep last night, for no reason whatsoever. I think this is the first sonnet I've written that has nothing whatsoever to do with how I felt at the moment of writing it.

Old-Timers... Go Back to Blogland

[Sorry in advance. I know this isn't a poem, but I wanted to post it everywhere. :}]

Blogland needs you, my friends.
I miss you.
I miss ALL of the old-timers, and I would just.... LOVE to see you in Blogland again.

Besides, showing up and chatting like you own the place is exceedingly enjoyable :}

I know, I know, everyone is strange and new. I think every time I go to Blogland now-a-days I meet someone new, but hey, meeting someone new eliminates a strange new person to meet. Plus, if we all go back, even it's slowly, even it's once-a-month or less, we'll find each other.

Don't feel like it's useless. Even if you can only hang out for ten minutes, GO. Chat for ten minutes, then leave if you must. Don't disappear forever. Nothing is worth losing your friends because you're just so busy. If you try, I know you can make a little time. :D

Please come back. :]
I love you guys, and Dereksville Blogland desperately needs your crazy, brilliant, fun, adorable, creative awesome-sauce and epica spontaneity!

When you read this, post it on your own blogs [re-awaken the magic of them!] or email it to a friend from Blogland you haven't spoken with for who-knows-how-long.
Let's rekindle the old-timers.
Let's rekindle our own, special place again.
I miss it, and I desperately miss you.

~hugs a million times over~

I hope I see you soon!!!! :D

Poem of the Insane

I thought I would escape

Could escape from this madness

Its tendrils snaking inside my very mind

I thought, I think I thought, at least

And everything’s swirling away

And I’m lost again

There’s nothing quite like the dark

Where the monsters live

Reaching through you

It’s a bleak reality

When you think about it

For too long

The colours all around

Seeping into each other

An obscene spectrum

See the how blind

How detached they are

Let them destroy themselves

I can’t think

Now

My brain stutters

There is nothing

Any longer

But sleep

And the sorrows

Rising

Drowning in despair

And then joining the tide…

Growing up

When I was 6,
Growing up meant, well, nothing.
I was a kid and I knew no better than that.

When I was 8,
Growing up meant getting married.
My mother told me I wasn't a woman until I got married.

When I was 10,
Growing up meant physical changes.
We learnt about it in school, the boys had different classes.

When I was 12,
Growing up meant fending off my father.
The change had hardly begun, yet he made his advances.

When I was 14,
Growing up meant watching my heroes turn human.
I saw him break down and learnt the true meaning of emotions.

Now that I'm almost 16,
Growing up means survival.
Just the kiss of the blade to help me make it through the day.

"Poetry Dump" Isn't Poetic... Let's Call It "Poetry Waterfall." Much better.

I
-->

In the morning,

In the morning I will rise,

Rise unto the dawn,

And with the dancing ribbons of light,

Ribbons of light,

Will the haunts be gone.

II 
-->

There’s silence in my room,

Reminding me to breathe,

Reminding me the world’s on fire

Everywhere but here,

And thought it burns in vociferous pyres,

In this silence there is nothing that I fear.

III
-->

Shooting Stars

I walk along

A starry night

And point to him

A sudden light!

As if surprised

My friend looks up

Into the dark and cloudless sky

Where flashing by,

And breezing past,

A broken star,

A ball of ash,

And on a whim

I make a wish,

And then my friend

Pulls me close

To give a kiss.

IV 

-->

In the dark and in the night,

In the moaning, whistling night

There’s the moon and there’s the stars;

There’s the shadows’ only light

A reflection, an explosion,

Reminiscing time gone by,

There’s the moon and there’s the stars

Slowly dancing in the sky.

V 
-->

Hazy,

Fuzzy,

Dreary,

Young blue eyes,

Staring at the gray trees

With dark patches,

Dark patches,

On their limbs.

Cut glass,

Concave,

In a frame,

A copper frame,

And,

Above those young blue eyes,

Eyebrows twitch

Skeptically.

Crisp,

Fresh,

Clear,

A thousand slender, tender, rushing

Leaves

Stroked by the warm breeze;

Droplets, Blue, lovely

Rainbow

Falling from the puffy

Clouds,

Bursting-!

Like the world’s on fire

Beautiful,

Perfect,

Incredible,

Incredible,

To me.

Grades

I wonder if teachers know
That some students suffer
From anxiety when called on in class;
From suicidal tendencies when alone;
From trauma when shouted at for getting a question wrong;
From panic attacks when they don't understand things;
From triggers when they are forced to observe graphic images;
From depression because of abusive family situations, but just hide the bruises;
But then again, our mental health is unimportant,
We must put our grades over everything else.

(This one's in Hebrew. Felt like sharing this here.)

אכתוב למענך את חד-השיח שלנו. אורכו

כאורך שתיקותינו, בין אם הן מאכלות-כל

או מעכלות-כל, הן צורבות דרך עומק בטני

ומשאירות חור פעור היכן שקרביי היו פעם.

Translates to:

I will write our soliloquy for you. It is
as long as our silences, whether they be all-corroding
or all-consuming, they burn through the depth of my stomach
and leave a gaping hole where my guts used to be.

Poetry Dump

I
Something
That is just new-
A morning full of dew,
The aroma that the rain brings
Sweetly.

II
He comes
Only at night
Toting a dark bundle
With dark intentions is the Boo-
Gie man.

III
I hide my light just
As the night sky hides her
Iridescent stars.

IV
To silence a thousand words would be to burn a picture
To live with thoughts unheard is to cause the fissure
A day without rain is like a day without speaking
You live with the pain though your eyes are beseeching
If the sun shines brightly,  is your mind less clouded?
But when you read a page nightly, is it words that are counted?
Why waste time in a nook when you could be on a hike?
And what becomes of the book that you still need to write?
Ashes to ashes, they say, and dust to dust.
And it's still worth a score of lashes to say what you should when you must.

V
Wind chimes
Tinkling at night,
Brushed by a cool zepher,
Strummed gently by the breeze's touch
Peacefully singing the night to slumber
Til dawn.

VI
Weary.
Heavy eyelids
Creeping like a zombie,
Crawling beneath the heavy covers,
Sleeping...

VIII
The universe is
A creation of wonder
Silence, sound- thunder!

None ever saw it begin,
But then, no one saw it rain
Plop, Splish, Splash, these puddles are plain.

IV
Darkness
Cold rain clatters
The sky just as bright as day
For just an instant! And the drums...
Beat on....

Alive again

When summer's come, and we can see the sun,
Its time to live and laugh and run,
Time to write again, time to take flight again,
Standing on the edge of life, looking out at the scene,
Feeling so serene, balanced on the edge, tipping over....
Into life,

Death's a million miles away, the time will come but not today,
When's life is good, and you feel as if you should,
You can write again, take flight again,
Soaring out across the scene, feeling so serene,
In the palm of your hand, and it feels so grand,
You're alive again,

So go, write again,
Take flight again,
Life's allright again,
I'm alive

Numbers

She counts, slowly.
1, 2, 3...
She writes the figure down;
It amounts to 20.

She counts, unsure.
5, 10, 15.
She swallows the number down,
And waves goodbye to the pristine.

She stays unconscious,
10, 20, 30.
Until they resuscitate her.
She cries when she wakes up.

She's put into therapy,
1, 2, 3.
But nothing helps,
Not the chemicals nor being free.

She writes a facebook status
That everyone thinks is inspirational.
"Breaking old records, reaching new heights."
That night, she jumped.

Sonnet 5

I want to close my eyes and vanish, flee

to Nowhereland- there I will find nothing

at all. No thoughts, nor light, nor stimuli

infect my precious Nowhereland. I wring

and thrash against my earthly binding chains,

but they grasp tightly at me. As I try

to run, my scream for Nowhereland sustains

and echoes all around. I must defy

the torturous powers telling me to stay

outside of Nowhereland, the only home

that I have never known. And yet I feel

I’m lost and left here in this world, alone.

My ideal Nowhereland, you must be strong;

for I’ll reach you so soon, I’ll stay so long.

Sonnet 4

Inspired by school, lack of sleep, shitty people, annoying thoughts, etcetera.

Sonnet 4

ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh,
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh, ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh;
ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh - ugh.
ugh ugh! ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh ugh,

ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh-ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh,
ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh! ugh ugh ugh,
ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh!
ugh ugh - ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh?

ugh, ugh! ugh - ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh.
(ugh ugh ugh ugh) ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.

ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh;
ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Haiku.. Cinquain... etc?

I
"Hello,"
I said to him;
"Madam," he spoke to me,
"Mayn't I have this dance with you?"
"You may."

II
Oh, pitiless mind,
Can you not leave me to sleep?
No! you have to write!

III
If I said, "Hello,"
Would you really say "Goodbye"?
Don't leave me behind!

IV
If I were the ground,
You would be the bright green grass
Growing on top.

And were I the grass,
You'd be the crimson flower
Dancing in the breeze.

V
May the victory bell be heard;
May the slave cast off his binds;
May then joy ring loud and clear,
Diminishing the darkest minds.

VI
I sit and must write;
The ones in my mind call out
Begging for a world.

VII
Thunder
Sounds in the night
Waking me with lightening;
Amazing me with power and
Beauty.

VIII
Kallie
One of the few
Brightest lightbulbs ever
Creating as no one before
Has done.

IX
Raven
She's truly one
Soaring through the grey skies
Flying in the great, blue downpour,
Laughing.

Haiku and Cinquain dump

I
It's when the moon shines,
Everything is dark and still,
But your mind runs wild.

II
I saw a shadow:
It danced and wove on the earth,
Laughing at sunlight.

III
There were small, bright lights;
I thought I saw small, bright lights,
But no- they were eyes.


Ok, the next one isn't actually a haiku. It's two and two-thirds haikus squashed together... But still.
IV
I saw in a dream
A strange dystopian earth
Where monsters are real
And man has no worth;
The sky burns like acid
And falling rain stings;
Everything's rancid
On that strange dystopian earth.

V
What color's the sun-
Shiny and molten above?
Rainbow's seven hues.


I
There was
A star above,
Shining on Bethleham
Leading the wisemen to Jesus
Through night.

II
If I
Could have a wish,
I'd wish God be with you!-
Saving your soul forevermore
With love.

Pictures

She paints a pretty picture,
But the picture has a twist.
Her paintbrush was a razor,
Her canvas was her wrist.

She paints a pretty picture,
In a colour that's blood red,
While using her sharp paintbrush,
She ends up, finally, dead.

Her pretty picture's fading,
Quite slowly on her arm.
The blood's no longer flowing,
She can no longer do harm.

She painted a pretty picture,
But her picture had a twist.
Her mind was her razor,
And her heart was her wrist.

Disappointment

A/N This is a delayed poem from disappointment from... Lots of times in real life and still no particular time at all. I've just know what it feels like when someone disappoints you, and somehow, this came out of it the other day.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's like a bad dream you don't quite believe:
A shroud, a heavy, dark cloak that drips
Down from your shoulders to
Your heart and defiant
Soul.

It's like a pitiless joke you ignore and refuse to receive:
A highwayman who stops your carriage
To take from you your mother's ring,
Your father's precious, golden
Pocketwatch.

It's a sense similar to betrayal, a feeling you can't quite relieve;
The thought that nothing you ever knew was real
And all the lies and bad things will go away
If you can just awake from this horrible
Nightmare.

It's someone you thought known, turned to a selfish fiend;
All you want to do is rouse yourself,
But instead, all you ever do
Is pretend is never even
Happened.

memoir, 24.3

Like the aftershock of a tidal wave -
The cold, wet sea-spray that washes over
exposed skin and hitched breaths,
gasping for air as I climb to the surface
of a world flooded with salt water
that rose from an ocean
stretching thousands of miles away,
hundreds of days ago,
now a stuttered breath away.