*By sweat session I mean going to the gym. Since todaaay I fell asleep for three hours and had a lovely dream and then deciding to write this :)
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It’s the kisses I miss most.
Tis sad when the closest you’ll even come to passion,
Is when you’re passed out on the couch after a sweat session
Dreaming a scene from the latest mega-hit,
Replacing the heroine with yourself –
Even if it’s Twilight –
Such kisses are electric and restore the fight,
The strength, and the gumption required to face the day alone

With your head held high,
Such dreams are little secrets and treats,
While family and friends are berating and harping on your feats
Tsking your taste in men, like it was a fatal bad habit

Current Music: Fall Out Boy: Thnks fr th Mmrs

death is life's only joy
tomorrow is arsenic
hope is only a toy

Cherry flavored cherub
lips, flavor of humanity,
weightless encompassing of angels,
cherry cheeks cheering me
to chide her modesty,
sweet honey words pouring
warmly flowing sticking,
told her she deserves more than she wants,

"You know what else is beautiful?
Making fun of people at the casino."

Said I did that at work, too.

"It makes me feel
more sane than I really am."

"Isn't that all action, love."
Especially love does that.
Wonder how she took that...
perception a breaker of truth,
breaking of truth called experience,
truth always resolidifies,
breaks perception and experience.
Love honey cures the symptoms of the human condition
while the body lets the virus
run 'till it faces truth.
Sometime truth doesn't come,
left to our own senseless perceptions,
vulnerable to be shattered by any passing glance.

"Are you OK, Devlin?"

"Yeah just a bit tired. Tired and sick."
Reverse it and they won't recognize.
Tired of people calling truth sideless,
doesn't matter if its only matter
is the balance of life,
life is a side.

If..

If I could be that final bell
After a long and hard day
Or a secret to never tell
I wonder what you'd say?
Or to be that good news
You'd been waiting to hear
Then you could be my muse
And I'd have nothing left to fear

© Donna Roberts

i want to die
there is no point in living
fuck you all
there is no forgiving

beauty once beheld

No ones called me beautiful and meant it quite like you
Maybe when you left me it ceased of being true

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I’ve only been held by one
Will I ever be held again
Or are my days of beauty done?

Even in my own eye the beauty seems to be lacking
My reflection has my confidence consistently cracking

Feather
What is poetry if bereft of love?
Is it as fruitful as the barren tree?
Or as empty of promise
As the clipped wings on a dove?

© Donna Roberts

the life not worth living
needs no follow up sentence
needs no poem
just a snap decision
and a decisive action
when the room is too bright
i just flip off the light switch
and sit there in the darkness
until sleep finds me

The Color Wheel

January, It was cold and snowing
my first day, and I got bored-
I wanted to stay in,
but didn't want to pretend
I was anybody's friend
so I left again,
on the road
that was going to become
my home away from home.
Driving made me tired-
I kept up, for awhile, and it got warmer,
I gave up, a little,
he wanted so much.
April, Everything broke down
spun out of control
and I went home, for the summer.
In the hospital
I almost had a breakdown.
Expensive flowers, expensive dinners,
designer drugs,
but of all the lottery tickets,
none of them were winners
I got tired of playing these games
just in time for school again.
August, Everyone knew my name
and I took a lot of chances
but the only romance was over fast-
I didn't know it would start again so soon,
and whirlwind, all over again,
I was done, but God wasn't done with me,
and fate still had it's cards to play
it snowed, and I lasted, and time passed,
too fast,
December, Life has a funny way
of going around in circles.

sidelines
race is a place where a face
my face
is not a member seen or heard
but a proclamation
I am not a race I am white
I am middle class
and I have a cock in hand
so I am there for upper rung
right
am I in/visible to you too

discourse
is a focus on points of interest
and while you assume or I assume you assume
I live on a silver plate
not a platter
I meanwhile have to keep my window closed because
the rats crawl in with ghosts at night
my heart is hurt
I work to scrape rent and I am
a crack in the seam on the wall

I am in a pastry box
myself
filled with sweet bread though it may be
sometimes
sure but
it is a white little take out box
can’t see in
or out

race is a place I am without
aging scars on wrinkled
white hands
I am not in the know and
no
I do not know you because
your box is closed up for
take out
too

Every life is many days,
day after day.
said Stephen
and I have not met you
I am only always meeting
myself
your race is my race is not myself
and you are not my neighbour
but are my sistermotherdaughterlover
and my neighbour
too
I saw you in my mid-blackout last night
and forgot you in my bed
this morning
and you reminded me at noon of white paper
and black ink and
red blood
and then I saw you in the sky
from the roots of a tree
and saw you down there
too
but I don’t know what your aging face looks like

tell me

day after day
open up my box and pour us
out into
that stolen sea
together

NE NADO syr
I do not know -
Тhе to to a
К 1 Philosopher-

- Son of Kharol'd Abandonments at Door-
Deputy ThesSalloniY-
-
After Khristmas the Greek -became-
Or Brother of Mefodia MammoNth-
-AnD-

KirilL reformed and wrote about EN
NibelungIA-
Mefod - Glagollitca and their
Receiver of -
-
Saint Klimen't reproduced Khirilic
About-
Oh nibellungyi whose amore-
But that side--
Onogondrow...

-a hare cristmas-

Savior
Whistling in the distance, the wind
cards her lithe fingers through the blackened branches
Of the poplar field.
Crickets screech a wailing song
As their brittle exoskeletons freeze;
Icy December beds of frost settle over
Frantically thrashing legs.
Unbidden, the moon glares out from the dark,
Blanketing the dying insects in her ghostly glow.
Crawling from under an embankment of this soil-smelling terrain,
A young creature slowly straightens, spine unfurling like a flag of surrender
To the gloom.
The wetness in the grass seeps into the soles of
The nightwalker’s bare feet, toes scrunching into the mud,
Her tattered yellow sundress a painful reminder of daytime
In the blue-gray haze of the night.
Her face is peculiar- human, yet not.
A minuscule nose rests delicately beneath great, orb-like eyes.
Her expression is watery and mournful.
She plucks a small cricket from the ground,
Interrupting its dying dirge,
And cups it in her tiny hands,
Fascinated.
She huffs on it gently,
Beseeching it to live.
She remembers that when the frigid wet-cold sets into her frail bones,
Her mother rubs her vigorously with her calloused hands,
And so she begins her work.
The insect is crushed, and the young night-girl
Tearfully wipes her hands on her dress.

everything is shit
but the toilet is clogged
let's take a bath
then maybe a sun shower

oh death death
sweet bloody death
free me from the chains of life
this mortal anchor
in the sea of tedium
keeps me tethered
there are no sails
and if there were
no sufficent wind
not even the one
im wasting
right
now

It's gotten to be
that the only way
I can find someone
is through taste in music.
I would fuck you if
you would just listen
to some indie shit.

studies in contrast

writing poetry on fogged-up windows
i’m catching glimpses outside through the letters
out where it’s raining.

the only people aren’t people-
just umbrellas floating,
floating along in this downpour.

the skies are dark
but the streets are lit-
blinking neon signs
and streetlights casting shadows;
ink stains on the pavement.

i’d rather stay warm and alone,
with my words and my windows.
don’t want to face the world right now,
armed with just a black umbrella.

to keep the rain away.

it isn’t that i’m afraid of the water.
i frequently dance in the rain.
it’s just that if i saw
in the shades of grey out there,
i would get lost.

i’d get lost
without my black and white
to guide me.

since here inside,
the weak lamplight
throws everything into contrast.

The Winter in You

[[Another one inspired by my friend, she really got to me when she started talking. I think maybe if I get it out for her it'll be okay... I know, it's stupid]]

The Winter in You

Boy you sure make this winter cold
And hard

You are the ice the falls from these deprived houses
From this deprived heart
You stomped around these houses
And invaded their insides

You stripped the walls and scratched the ceilings
You left the doors right open
All for the world to see our secrets
The abuse my heart lives in

You've stained my clean floors

You've pissed all over them

Like if I were trash

Boy you sure know how to turn on the heat

On these sub-zero days

How do I still love you

When you push me onto the strong, fogged windows

And now, the window panes are broken

Because you have broken them down

Like you have me

Just break up with her

By Wilmary

Undying Love

[[[It was inspired by my friend. She's the one feeling all this pain]]]

Undying Love

I, I don't wann lose you
I, I love you

Here I sit frantically crying
Because you told me you loved her
Instead of me
Can't you see?
I am for you and you are for me

I, I can't even breathe
Panic attack
It's hitting me
Snuffing me in the face
Your words

"I think I'm still in love with her"
How can you?
She's so far and I'm right here!

I, I can't hear you heart anymore
And you can't hear hers
You must have my heart confused with hers
Does it sound the same?

We are not the same
I am the moon
And
She is the sun

I, I love you
Sweety, I really do, do
Lo, love you

By Wilmary

5150

5150

I know that my instructions are not clear
I just want to get the fuck out of here

These cryptic writings I am signing
Taking all my rights away;
I just want to die another day.

I know that my thoughts are unclear
Stuttering and muttering full of fear

Racing thoughts are temporary;
Violent thoughts are secondary
Now they are afraid I will tear

Through this veil of reality
Seeing myself in my duality
Now she sees me through her tears

Sticking needles through my arm
Making sure I do no harm
Is this what my fucking life is?

I know that my words aren't clear
But you should be listening to me here

Losing time is temporary;
Wasting away through group therapy
I've lost days of my life.

Worries turn to years and years
And all I remember are her tears
I just want one more chance.

when she doesn't love you anymore
you feel like your friends don't love you enough
and everywhere is nowhere

banished
i swim from the island to the mainland.
guided by dolphins
hitching rides from faceless mermaids
who i will never see again
and who's sea shells barely cover
listless mounds of sand
that crumble away
revealing tomorrow
isn't as steep of a climb as it appeared to be.
our starfish limbs
will once again reach for the moon
as it pulls a blanket over our shores
washing away her foot prints
with the tears of the night,
but in the end
when i come back ashore
i will be naked and alone
shivering away
still having to find my way
back to the civilization
that rejected me
to burn it to the ground

Chorus of the Crows
Perchance when we leave, the world would stop,
stop turning, stop yearning.
The hearts of a million stop mid-throb
and start drowning
in the chorus of crows that wait on this building
that pierces the sky.

If so, would you and I stay
(as we are not, were not, and for never will be)?

The beat of where your heart ends entwines with mine
as we lay back and see the throb of a million
lights in a box with magic holding
its own world, in our own world, in this world.

If so, can you and I just wait here and watch
the worlds come undone
(in there, out here and out there)?

But then, perhaps, the world would never
never stop turning, never stop burning.
Two hearts in a million now still and still hoping
that when we cry with the crows flying to the horizon,
this world, our building,
will stay here and touch the heavens.

Current Mood: apprehensive

there is so much i can share
to show you that i care
but with all these eyes
on you
on me

i don't understand how you could
ever really see...

Bach´s Prelude Suite No. 1
Such lovely piano hands. Smooth ridged bones key the soothing melody of my starving desire. Bathing me in pure thinspiration. I am your biggest fan, oh lovely piano hands.

Anticipation

Let us see the skyline together
hold cups of hot cocoa on the rooftops
Nestle in a big comforter
while standing earmuffs and all
cherry red noses
with sparks in between us
Let us smile
that one snarky smile
where we can just be plain
and let our emotions
run wild
Let us drink to that
while you put your hand up
my sweater
and feel the tingles and moist chills
that accompany
such actions
I love
I lust
I desire
I feel
Infinite in my fires
Moments caught
like fireflies
Never to be released
like spies in captive
My gum
and Stimulation
you steal
My butterflies
conceive in multiples
while the intoxication
that's not in our cocoa
continues to have me fumbling
and tumbling
head over heels
in much affection
in raw illuminating flesh
for what spirit
has overcome me
with sensations
of you
sharpie'd all over
my brain ..
UGH you drive
me insane...

5150

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