megan catcher

Jun 2014

Deneka Raquel

I am not a writer.
I am not good with words,
I cannot speak up for myself,
It is my pen that bleed words.
No amount of convincing can give me conviction.
No amount of clarification can make that distinction.
Please refrain from using titles.

I am not a writer.
I am just a dreamer,
Dreaming dreams of inverted galaxies
Where complexities are reduced to simplicity,
And maybe love wouldn't be so complicated.
I dream of a world where I'll be unchained and liberated,
Because currently freedom is hard to go by.

I am not a writer.
I am just another over thinker,
I stay up all night disassembling the world,
So I can put it back together.
Adding new features that I think will make it better
I get lost in thoughts, and day-mares, fantasies and others,
I obsess and I always suffer.

I am not a writer.
Though sometimes I am photographer,
Snapping,
Close ups and selfies of my terrible mind.
Giving glints of places you won't usually find,
All because I write sometimes.

I just express my emotions is what I'm trying to say. This poems sounds like I'm rambling..

#writer #dreamer #thinker #photographer

Jun 2014

Winter Allen Jane

Realization

We cannot prevent people from falling in life
Blinded by our own salted skin and crunching bones
And only notice the wounds on someone's face
when they knock on our door
and ask if they can borrow a plaster

I can only watch you with deep s y m p a t h y
when your scarred heart gasps for breath
if only I can heal your p a i n
if only I could catch you whenever you fall
but I'm just another helpless creature
expecting myself to be m o r e
and guilt appears faster than rain on car windows
and my heart goes up in the flames of grief
the guilt grows damp before my eyes
plasters do not heal w o u n d s
want to bury them deep down with me
your misfortunes are mine
My crooked heart knitted to y o u r s
And I just want to say that I'm really sorry
for letting you f a l l
I should've hold your hand more tightly
I couldn't swim and you jumped in

and I couldn't s a v e you

we always know everything afterwards
so we cannot prevent our people from falling
We can run as fast as we can
but time is faster than realization

We are either d e a d or l a t e.

Jun 17 2014
© WAJ

Jun 2014

Winter Allen Jane

Sad

she broke out in tears
I didn't know what to do
so I gave her my cat
bc my cat never failed to comfort me

when i'm sad.

Jun 18 2014
© WAJ

#sad #tears #okay #friend #sweet #my #cat #is #comfort

Jun 2014

Carl Sandburg

Bones

Sling me under the sea.
Pack me down in the salt and wet.
No farmer's plow shall touch my bones.
No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak
How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth.
Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes,
Purple fish play hide-and-seek,
And I shall be song of thunder, crash of sea,
Down on the floors of salt and wet.
Sling me... under the sea.

megan catcher Jun 2014

And you as well must die, beloved dust

And you as well must die, beloved dust, And
all your beauty stand you in no stead; This
flawless vital hand, this perfect head, This
body of flame and steel, before the gust of
Death, or under his autumnal frost, Shall be
as any leaf, be no less dead than the first
leaf that fell this wonder fled. Altered,
estranged, disintegrated, lost. Nor shall my
love avail you in your hour. In spite of all my
love, you will arise upon that day and wander
down the air obscurely as the unattended
flower, it mattering not how beautiful you
were, or how beloved above all else that dies.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

this is NOT WRITTEN BY ME.
It is written by Edna St. Vincent Millay,

I just thought it was beautiful.

#poem #dying #beautiful

Jun 2014

Bitter Heartache

Blood Stains

You're a blood stain on a wedding dress and through countless bottles of bleach you still refuse to fade.

I scrub my teeth until my gums bleed, but I can't get rid on the feeling of your tongue in my mouth.

I'm scratching at my arms because I promised I'd never use a razor blade again but your hands were daggers that cut out my arteries and left me bleeding out while I begged you to stich me up.

Your drunken eyes were bloodshot the night you drank so much you vomited blood, I took you to the emergency room, and in your hallucinogenic state you muttered her name, not mine, and I swore I would die that night.

My parents prayed and prayed to a god who turned the Nile into a river of blood that I would leave you, but I always had a hard time leaving a problem unsolved, and the blood that gathered at the surface of my skin in the form of bruises was my problem to solve, not yours.

The broken glass of your whiskey bottle left cuts on the bottom of my feet as I snuck out that December night, and left blood stains in the snow for you to find on Christmas morning.

As I clutch the photo of us all these years later it is my tears which splatter over our faces, not my blood.

My scars are innumerous, and so are the stars, and I would have given both for you to love me.

No amount of blood transfusions could replace what you took from me.

My A negative blood will never work for everyone but it is enough to save the lives of those bleeding out on operating tables with families begging for another day like I begged for you when you would have let me die.

I read in the newspaper today that you were found dead on the scene of some a drunk driving accident, drowning in a pool of your own blood, and I nearly laughed because finally the bloodshed you caused was over.

#love #depression #death #abuse #blood #unrequied

— The End —