Don’t watch. Wait, no, I know you have to count
the minutes so you know how long it lasts,
this seizure with its dynamite that blasts
my brain to temporary shreds. With gaunt
eyes, lost in fog now, I depend on you.
You may not know just what to do, but still,
I beg: Don’t let it drive my avenue.
Please, help to quiet down its voice so shrill.
Dear me at the age of 30-
I hope you survived this long
despite of the ravaging storm,
if you are still going through
the same situation as me
try hard to get rid of it
because there is more to life
but this numbness
you must have embraced so
comfortably by now,
if you have got rid of it
never forget your experience
embrace your new life
and take those steps
you have earlier been
too afraid to take.
whether you are still dealing
with it or not,
try and help others-
listen to them, let them speak,
never be judgemental
for I know how it feels
and you too, I know.
Sincerely, the being that is you
at a younger age of 17.
There
comes a
time every day
when I strive to
write but I simply can’t.
It
just doesn’t
seem right that
my mind goes blank
and I simply can’t write.
But
I know
it occurs when
I feel a sudden
revulsion towards everything in life.
And
also when
I am anxious
and I try to
comprehend with my numb thoughts.
But
still this
must be the
time when I am
able to express myself fully.
Unfortunately
that is
not the case
with me because I
just simply can not write.
On the other side
You know I couldn’t believe it
I felt the heart attack and thought
Not now ! But I fell for it,
After I have been sold and bought…
You tried but you couldn’t help me,
But now it’s a different story,
I can lend you a hand at least,
And I won’t call you the beast.
It’s time to have a new dream,
Cleared from my monstruosity,
Let’s shine like all the sunbeams,
Let’s change the face of this city !
I’ve been a loser all my life,
This time, I’ll keep an open heart
Beating the rhythm of the night,
I won’t let them tear us apart
No more !
September, the 12th
The Painted Man ~ SwittersB
Fuzzy thinking in life. Few things seem certain at times. Memories of old…were they what I believe now? Glimpses of long ago are layers of impressions covering over myself. Some are good, some are not so good.
Layer upon layer seems to cloud an honest assessment of reality. The present is often met with borrowing from the old. Sometimes intuition tells you not to trust the old pathways. Too many mistakes. But, one can come to a stand still if that happens too often.
It helps to strip away some of those layers, to discard them. Like a remodel, the layers are peeled away and a foundation, the bones, are exposed with hopefully not too much damage.
Sometimes there is a charm to the old. But when the layers start to peel, bubble, lift…a little remodel is in order and a good thing. Positive energy and outcomes.
The almond fights with my teeth,
The molars who want to get rid of it,
But dear almond wants to stick over there,
Tangled in between the wells of teeth.
My teeth call for help,
The tongue sets in the fight,
Tries to wiggle out the almond,
But the almond is too stubborn,
The tongue is not going to retreat,
But for how long?
The most powerful must be called,
The one the almond fears the most.
Hence, my teeth invoke the hands to go,
And pick up a tooth pick,
Take it within the mouth and jerk,
And jerk that jerk out of the molars.
The almond cries but no one cares,
The tiny almond is swallowed;
And the tooth pick is thrown,
For who cares now?
The teeth are fine,
And the tongue is back to business.
Almond is history ,
And tooth pick- what about it?
Hello everyone,
This is my 100th post here on 20 lines and I’m really feeling elated. I joined the community with no motive other than practicing my writings. Now, I think this community has started playing a very vivid role in my life. I always look forward to coming back here, reading, writing, just relaxing with a glorious peek into others’ lives and of course, their imaginations. Whenever I’m here, life seems easy. It is sort of my way of escape from reality.
Blogging is good, it is indeed wonderful. I have even not yet completed 100 posts in my primary blog- hence, I think that shows how much I’m in love with this community- with the authors- with the readers- all of you.
I think I’m still the youngest one here(by age and by experience) and I feel good that I’m being encouraged to write- to hone my skills by my lovely fellows over here. I want to thank Melissa in particular for allowing me to be a part of it. And yes, thanks for the nick name- Howie! And I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being with me, reading some of my self-absorbed and foolish posts, helping me even when I wasn’t ready to help myself.
Thank You!
Love,
HA
It started out so wonderful.
Our day that is.
We woke up early and made sure our belly was full.
Most of the stuff he packed was his.
We headed up into the mountains and into a river to spend the day.
Weather Man said it would be a scorcher, temps very, very high.
We were to stay in the river for the whole day.
This was not to be, please let me tell you why.
Seems a bug of some kind, had it in for him.
We no longer could watch our dog swim.
I had to pack things up and haul them up the hill, for him.
He became so ill, so quick, his chances were starting to look slim.
I really did not know what to do.
I had no idea where anything was in this area.
He had absolutely no clue.
The mountains were again, in my rear view mirror.
I let my gut lead the way.
I prayed and prayed it was not the wrong way.
I am serious when I say he was very ill.
I was on a mission to find a pill.
I do not know why a saw a flashing Red light.
I did what ever it took to get to it.
He had certainly lost his fight.
I just knew I could not quit.
In the end, the light was the help, he so needed.
They took him with them, to the emergency room.
They could tell how serious it was, by my face, as I pleaded.
He was now hooked to a machine in a private room.
In the end all is well.
Three days have passed.
He still isn’t feeling swell..
With his bad allergic reaction, I fear this will not be the last.
I will know where I am at.
All the places to go, to find help for sure.
I will also know when anyone else needs help, STAT.
I will never travel without a first aid kit just in side the door.
I love him so much and am so glad it came out OK.
Eunice
There lives another person in me,
That makes me not do what I ought to do.
I want to kill it,
But I adore it.
There lives another person in me,
Who is cruel but still a part of me.
I’m truly tired of myself, because, that another person is real- who is thriving, who is very much a part of me. It is not possible on my part to control this person which is bringing another aspect to my persona, to my entire life. I’m just tired- so tired! I want respite… I want some space which would end all of this. Sometimes, I just want to cry out loud, grieving for someone to just end it all whether it would mean ending this life… No! I want to live… I know the importance of life… how precious life is. No one can change that, not even this another part of me. Still, I’m tired… I don’t have anyone to ask for help. I’m alone, I think I aspire to be alone as well but I’m tired to be alone. This is just so typical, nothing can change even a little bit of what I’m feeling… I feel.
Wondering back I get blind by thought , peeping
Dread is my neighbor , always watching , leaping
Grieving souls are flooding my conscious day, creeping
Quicksand around me , it covers my feet ,seeping
Can’t move , can’t breathe , I continue , weeping
I want to be normal , I want to be bland , feeling
Moving forward , looking ahead , dreaming
I’ll pray for his help , I’ll look for the future , gleaming
Technology, a way to talk, with Skype
and email, Instant Message, every type
of faster, better wings of words, sometimes
breaks down. Frustration at these techno-crimes
then marches on me wearing heavy boots.
So I, deprived of all their techno-fruits,
request of “Help” and “Tools” and “FAQ”
a boost to reinstate my previous view.
No luck. I’m at computer’s mercy, must
wait long until its brain shakes off the dust.
When I think I’ve arrived at mastery,
it gives me nothing but the third degree.
Frustration (was: threesixtyfive | day 244) (Photo credit: Sybren A. Stüvel)
