Melanie: Favorites

May 2014 Melanie

Timothy Brown

I lay in the bathtub soaking
wet with water running
around my silhouette. Shaking
as the washcloth smeared regrets
over my skin. The bubbles
give my sins a scent.

As I vent I leave the shower
running so my sobs
are the only thing drowning.
The constant tapping on my face
keeps me awake as I sink into
the various stews my mind creates.

Weights are lifted with pruning. Peeling
of dead skin keeps me from
reeling into depression. There is a harmonic
progression between the faucet and my face,
the scrubbing and my disgrace, the steam and
my own embrace.

I need this state. The decompression
from being bottled up, like a coke, with a smile
is worthwhile. It teaches me
that the expression of weakness
is key in the building of a better Timothy.

©May 13th, 2014 by Timothy Brown.

#depression #desperation #intimate #washing #cleansing

May 2014 Melanie

I Wish I Could Save You

May 2014 Melanie

sked

I Wish I Could Save You

If I could do anything
Anything at all for you
I would save you

I would save you from
The torment that you feel
The constant feeling of failure
The way that you hate yourself
The way that you hate other people
The sad poems that tear me to shreds each and every time I read them

I would wipe that pain away
Wipe all the sadness and replaced it with joy
Take all that pain and turn it into love
Make you feel safe again
Make you feel whole not just a shadow of what you once were

But I can't

I am the aggressor
I make you feel the pain
I take you and break you down
I take your heart and **** it right in front of you
I make you feel cold, unprotected
I warp your world
I warp your self-perception

If I saw a shooting star
Or if God asked me what I could wish
I would wish that I could save you
But that sort of thing isn't realistic
I can't save you
But someone else will
I just hope it won't be too late
And that it's the right One

#regret #wish #save #repentence

May 2014 Melanie

Ship Wrecked Head

May 2014 Melanie

Harry J Baxter

Ship Wrecked Head

they say the working man gets a good night's sleep
well I haven't much use for sleep
see, in this jungle of a world
you have to be sharp
your wits a finely honed machete
to cut through thick overgrowth
to reveal the salivating predators
waiting in ambush
so the old saying gets a little warped
everybody has to sleep once they're dead
and everybody has to die
these lines all have final destinations
so I'm trying to convert my train car
into a roaming idea factory
with somewhere by the open window in the corner
where I can kick my feet up and drink a cold one
these cigarettes and cups of coffee
are fighting valiantly to keep these eyes of mine from falling shut
but already I feel myself drifting as these words stream through me
flowing off to some distant stranger's dinner plate
my body is made of heavy wood
not much in the ways of joints and movement
but I beg you
to crack open my skull
and siphon out these silly little poems
from the swirling wreckage

May 2014 Melanie

Off On Your Next Big Thing

May 2014 Melanie

Harry J Baxter

Off On Your Next Big Thing

The thing about growing up is
you never asked to be a grown up
in fact
you never asked to be anything
not even to be born
and yeah yeah yeah
I know
your parents gave you a life with potential
a roof
and three square meals maybe
but they also gave you
expectations to avoid resentment
to burn brighter
and maybe you prefer the dark
or to spark up whatever drug you can get your hands on
they would really like it if you were responsible
but it is that possible when the thought of letting people down
has you not getting out of bed until 1pm
I'd rather see you smile than frown
but this clown is running out of jokes about how patience kind of sounds like patients
and this bottle isn't doing the trick
and the tricks I work to make this all come together
now seems a whole lot less important
the apathy can sneak up on you
guerrilla commando trekking through the jungle of your doubts
it was one hundred degrees when I went to work
and storming when I left
****, did I forget to close the windows on my car?
are my phone, cigs, and lighter still breathing?
am I?

poetry started out as venting
became something more
something fingers can never quite grasp
the word always on the tip of my tongue
so I always lose the plot halfway through
and end up rambling like the drunk closing down the corner stool
do my words fall on deaf ears
or do they spark the ignition of emotional explosions
so big they measure on the Richter scale?
Time will tell
I only hope that by the time
time catches up with me to tell me
I will be gone
far away
off on my next big thing

May 2014 Melanie

brother garcia

May 2014 Melanie

mark john junor

brother garcia

like a fool i rushed in
now i sit in the halflight and ponder
watch the crow carve a michelangelo in the sands of time
wishing it could have been me
keep washing away my days with tears
but its left me dry
like the desert between her heart and eyes
her practiced hand extracts me from the conversation
but i can still hear every word spoken
but i still cant decipher the smile on his face
i flee this woman and her complex locks for a heart
to wander into the rain hoping the cure for her is rust

i sit here in a concrete flower bed
with life thriving inches from my thirsty heart
the sun is a hurricane blowin its light all over the worlds face
except this streetlight corner where i'm parked
in a shopping cart with a handful of handmade candles
and an ocean of tears for the nobody thats there by my side
a picture of some actress to fill the void
her pretend joys bring such dim return
but i still dream that i'm dancing in the sand
neath the fiery furnace of romances moon
english rose poised for her picture
with such sadness

i frustrated rushed forward across the beaten earth
to the edge of the stage hoping to get to see up
close and personal some man playing precision notes
on a beautiful wind
his song a sweet reprise of yesterdays loving heart
and all the shared smiles and hopeful joys
his dancing thought soars and swings like plastic on the wind
but fools like me caught in the imitation seats of oak can only watch with slack jawed wonders in our hearts
garcia where did you go my brother
you never said goodbye

there will be no easy solutions to my delemia
i must find someone who can hold the hand of a fleeing man
some sweet girl who wants do slow dance
in tonight's spring full moon like it was yesterdays dream
i like a fool fled the feast a hungry man in a dark land
wearing only a milk white robe
and carrying a plastic moon
ill wander till i find you
and sweetheart i hope its soon
i don't even know you yet and i miss you already

May 2014 Melanie

Falling from the Nest

May 2014 Melanie

Harry J Baxter

Falling from the Nest

Take in a few more gulps
swallowing your pride
the only time this world makes any sense
is when the room is spinning
poor little baby bird
fell out of the nest all too soon
the ground is hard with tall grass
where predators lurk
listen up, kid
you need to learn to aim true
find ways to smile through pain
and yeah, it's okay to cry
just leave the door to your heart open a crack
do not forget to stand tall
the night sky is resting in your palms
each star a cosmic reflection
of every sleep laden dream
you've been smoking up all of my punchlines
that you didn't get
******* for the temptation
of somebody kind enough
to maybe love you for you
listen, little clubber
before this long winding road grows open
you need to make friends
with the man trapped in the mirror

#**** #hashtags #these