Life, or something like it.....

May 2015

mark john junor

out of season rain
falls steady on my roof
its pattern on the slate walkway is a confusion of circles
birds continue to sing
cars continue to speed by
it is only i that has ground to a halt by this
gentle downpour
rainy season isnt supposed to be here yet
so why have you clogged my day
with your wet bedraggled deluge
away with you rain
away with you

May 2015

Musfiq us shaleheen

No longer I can't say either

~~
I am not writing any poetry
Not a huff,
Not even a romantic mood,
I talked to a distress

Unto thee of say my friend:

The suffering of pain is more than a pain
Words of distress
No longer I can't say either

The story of that night
That is longer than a long night
That night, my love had died before the dawn

How do I tell thee

The suffering of love is unforgettable
Than the love you never achieved
Middle of the night to about chest pain

When I could not bear it no longer
Then at late night I call a friend to awake
No longer I can't say either

My friend
O' my friend!
My dearest friend!

How do I tell thee
My soul grew dry that is more than a wither petals
No longer I can't say either

When the sudden stopped of time
I stood, Saw the closed distant door
No longer I can't say either

To be alone in everybody
Within a moment a known seems to be unknown
No longer I can't say either

The last thing to understand who she is constant
The story of the lost bright Star
No longer I can't say either

The door is closed
Maybe someone has locked
Alone, The sleepless nights of choking

One's that hard
Many pale faces in the crowd of strangers
Love is lost within too many hopes

How do I tell thee
No longer I can't say either
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

~
"if like please share/ repost /comments whatever you wish"
~

#love #sad #life #dark

May 2015

mark john junor

optional titles

how do you feel
lost and alone at the end of your dime
someplace on the road between the here and the now
out of smokes and outa luck
barefaced to the carnival of night
the day passes slowly into the vastness of the past
hungry eyes puddled with traces of regret
for all the places you've been and think you belong
for all the treasures of the past yet to be plundered
and all the sweetness to which your heart has succumb
convinced of the need to find a home
a place to breath easy
you take a few tentative steps to the road
in hopes of finding its easier than it seems
to kickstart your old bones
and write a new tale for you to sing
how do you feel down here at the end of your last dime
finger-licking good or foretastes of gloom
waiting here for the prize you know aint comin'
waiting here for the explanation you aint buyin'
thin and looking a little like a ghost
see you on the other side

May 2015

Tea

~

It is tragic that the young doesn't know
what it's like to be old.

But it is even more so tragic when the old forgets
what it's like to be young.

inspired by a quote

#love #sad #life #young #tragic #old #understanding

May 2015

anu

True Love = Mother

MOTHER Is A Lovely Word
A Word That Defines The True Love Is MOTHER..

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY
TO MY MOTHER AND ALL THE MOTHER IN THE WORLD....

May 2015

Riley Lavender

Wandering (10W)

Lost
in my own mind
today

Do not
disturb me

#10w

May 2015

irinia

second letter to the pain

“My wound existed before me;
I was born to embody it.”*
Joë Bousquet

No anaesthetic rhyming with aesthetic for the cracks of words now **** it! This pain keeps inventing skies to fall into, glass screams, corroded nails Crying comes from far away Words grow flesh Between fingers Herds are trampling on my heart inside plastic horizons This stupendous silence then Take my bones from yesterday Future is a catapult What if I am only a girl facing this Breathe out

I am the possession/oppression The oppressor is me Pain is not a stylistic experiment Where can I hide my ears I crawled I bent Disfigured I had to pick up my eyes from fences, my lungs from the mirror I have a body full of used words, slapped doors, walls swollen by silence Hope to get used to be treated in the third person No poetics of space Pain is this quarry in me L’habitude of memory

May 2015

i am miss brightside

Make me Cry

I want to do a movie-marathon,
Running from morning til noon to midnight.
Watch all the saddest movies ever filmed.
Or spend this day reading stories, novels, proses.
All told by broken souls, fueled by heartaches.
'Til all these pain metamorphose and birthed into tears.
'Til all these hurt goes away along with this release.

For,

I am growing tired of saying "It's okay. I'm fine."
Enough of the lies!
Those lines..
It kept me from being human,
For it suppress
the cries,
the screams,
the state of fragility.
It kept me from feeling weak,
from being vulnerable.

And,

I need to hear your voice, to soothe my restless soul.
I need to feel your hands holding mine, making me feel that i am not alone.
I need to see that look in your eyes, penetrating inside me,
reviving embers of my being
that is slowly drifting away.
I need to...
Oh please!
I need you.
Anything you can offer to take away this emptiness.

*Until I can see I.
Until I can hear me.
Until I can feel and be myself again.

I cannot cry when I'm depress.
And right now, i cannot cry.
I'm in so much need of tears.

#sad #depressed #tears #stretched

May 2015

mark john junor

young man

so easy to believe
so easy to write it all off as illusion
so easy to bury head in the sand
and wish it all away
but that's the tragic tale

i was a young man
so full of strife and never wondered why
knowing the hammer strike would solve
never looked to see beyond what my fists could do
after all i would live forever
and i knew all the answers had all the secrets
all the summer bright day
the world was mine
and i breathed easy never considering
but time changes everything

knowin' is the key
seeing is believing
and you cant deny what is in your hand
fistful of angers or the open heart of wanting
wanting a better life
wanting a better world
now i'm an old man
and my hand isn't a fist anymore
cause the hard lesson learned
cause the hard road traveled

May 2015

mark john junor

the birds with soulless eyes

old man feeding the birds
he stands slightly bent as he casts
down the bits of bread
that the birds milling around his feet
devour with soulless eyes
he casts each piece like a sacrament
like an uttered prayer
his large brown coat soiled by winter
now hangs on his springtime frame

old man with his bag in hand
walks slowly along the fence line
the rubber of his shoe squeaking like a
small animal
he is amused by the thought
he feeds the birds once again
after all that is what old men do
they die slowly and they feed birds
they walk in silence like a tomb
casting bread upon the waters
like a prayer

old man feeding the birds
what old man dose not dream of younger women
what old man dose not wish he was young again
so the birds feed upon his dying wish
with soulless eyes
watch him walk into the city of night
with nothing but his loaf of bread
and a newspaper full of yesterdays stories
walking the fence line between heaven and hell
on his way to feed the birds

Apr 2015

mark john junor

to cook my head

it was hot
makes you feel spent just breathin'
but she was comfortable as judas in hades
just like ice cool in the shade
you shout and dance about with all this jealousy
you are electric hot under the collar
but the winds are blowing in her favor
but the rivers are sweet on her lips
it was hot as death warmed over
not an ounce of inked shade to be had
and you got issues hounding your thoughts
beginning to feel like its a church to the
apostle's of rage
darken your horizons with her
like the universe is her little game
the wind walks its ignorant gesture across you
and that just fans the flames
after all she just acknowledged her divinity
its hot enough to cook my head
but you are wrapped tighter than a prisoner
all used up and jealous
key to surviving this day lay in her eyes
in them you see your forgiven soul
in them you see your salvation's way
if you can forgive yourself first
if you can grow that fast

Apr 2015

Chris

A Fog This Night - A Dark Collaboration

.

A fog this night has settled in
Among the chiseled stones
With dates now carved of ending years
and places so alone

Shadows weave in dense display
Each noise our skin it crawls
The squeaking of the rusty gate
Like footsteps in the halls

Shaded in its own dark beauty
Garden glows 'neath half hidden moon
A rose's thorns prickle the night
Trembling winds carry somber tune

Voices loom behind the walls
Whispers of secrets rushed
Cries of anguish simmering ready
Betrayals are quickly hushed

And still we walk with eyes so wide
Shivering our hands we hold
Bound by fear this wicked night
Lost among the gravesites cold

It's my fault this nightmare eve
A shortcut sought, a new way home
And now we wander, careful steps
Deeper than the eerie roam

Finger nails against blackboard scrape
The whistle of a boiling kettle
Sounds that make me shiver and cringe
Maddening and unsettled

I imagine a band of ghostly beasts
Play upon our organs this night
Stealing our hearts, tortured minds
Now I'm clinging to you in fright

Hold me tight I’ll find an exit
Somewhere down this crooked path
Lined of shrubs with broken branches
Beating hearts the aftermath

Not much further, there’s a clearing
Just a few more steps to go
I’ll let nothing come and harm you
Because I do love you so

A collaboration with my amazing and beautiful girlfriend. Her verses are in italics