All Blogs, Hearing Voices, Poetry, Uncategorized, Words

Empty

your strut in words
ego in its finest form
no understanding
you use words as
long limber strides
arms swinging
head thrown back
exposing your throat
I want to chop your words from you
then listen to you speak
DSCN3229(photo wilowispaperio 2016)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Photography, Poetry

velvet and lace

her stance awkward
elbows close to her hips
feet planted firmly
her face speaks loudest

at 16 defiant
untrusting
already weary

at 56
still not trusting
still weary

it’s alright
in the shadows
where she has
draped flowery vines
over her body
and rests on the
south side of the tree
and likes the
moss beneath her
the leaves tickling
her bare skin

there’s no one watching
no one to judge
no harsh words
no pain
except her own

her voices whisper
“you are diamonds
and cool to the touch”

she whispers
“I want to be velvet
and lace”

(Photo credit Wilowispaperio, 2014)

diamonds and lace

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On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won’t understand
“Don’t accept that what’s happening
Is just a case of others’ suffering
Or you’ll find that you’re joining in
The turning away”
It’s a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we’re all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerised as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It’s not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there’ll be
No more turning away?

All Blogs, Life, Photography, Poetry, Trauma

Gone

IMG_1823

(photo credit wilowispaperio, 2015)

 

The last one died yesterday.

No childhood,
now they’re gone.

It’s snowing today.

Smooth unbroken
surfaces cover
ripping,
tearing,
brokenness.

Useless, words.

Need to blow
this into space,
watch it vaporize.

“Go! Get out! Leave!”

Clawing at the thing
that has blocked my breath.

Not pain,
rage.

Fuck you.
Fuck your shit
that became mine.

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