Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the little deaths, i call them
when you kill me with a smile
make me doubt myself. download guilt
call me stupid in front of our friends
over and over
and i forget why you love me

these little deaths
they cut so deep
and i forget why i love you

(...why?)

garlic mashed potatoes, green tea & death race
my stomach aches

anger boils over. finds calm. stays
the combination is foreign
i roll it around on my tongue
taste it. swallow it whole
it nests in my heart like a welcome pacman thing
chomping love cells. disintegrating lies
you see it in my eyes
touch my hand. even my skin is cold

no. doN't tell me this anger is juSt an illusion. or a shackle. nO! because this anger is what uNlocked the prison door. thiS anger is what lifted the weight that kept my head under water for so long. this time the anger is what is tRue

& the moment i acknowledge this
the anger dissipates
and all that's left is clarity
& patience is a virtue

I wonder how many times during a day we die.

this really made my heart ache Mj.

HUGS

m

well, the balance between saying in a second-inspiration "fuck you, who the hell you think you are, asshole" (in english translation, of course) and have some insight about your own memory is sometimes delicate.

garlic mashed potatoes, green tea & death race
my stomach aches

anger boils over. finds calm. stays
the combination is foreign
i roll it around on my tongue
taste it. swallow it whole
it nests in my heart like a welcome pacman thing
chomping love cells. disintegrating lies
you see it in my eyes
touch my hand. even my skin is cold

well cooked, gracias for sharing!!!!!!!!

anger dissipates
in electric dreams
when I am grounded



Sorry for the ramble
I was moved by your poem
thank you

Women have served all these centuries as looking–glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size. Without that power probably the earth would still be swamp and jungle. The glories of all our wars would he unknown. We should still be scratch ing the outlines of deer on the remains of mutton bones and bartering flints for sheep skins or whatever simple ornament took our unsophisticated taste. Supermen and Fingers of Destiny would never have existed. The Czar and the Kaiser would never have worn crowns or lost them. Whatever may be their use in civilized societies, mirrors are essential to all violent and heroic action. That is why Napoleon and Mussolini both insist so emphatically upon the inferiority of women, for if they were not inferior, they would cease to enlarge.

A room of one's own

I hope he hears you SG,

poignant and disarmingly sincere.

This type of man can be so callous and cold hearted. He probably doesn't even know how is words make you feel. He is so wrapped up in his ego he can't see around him. Your poem roared with fury and power. You have so much insight and inner strength. I know you'll find a way to change things, one way or another.

hugz
John

It is just a poem
maybe about someone you know
or maybe about you
Which ever...whoever
I hope he reads your poem.

maree...thanks love. i am going on a vacation for three weeks to sunny FLorida (yay!). and when i come back i hope i'll make your heart smile again.


arcadia...yes, i stir the soup sometimes. and sometimes i just sip it. thanks for taking a bite


walt...exactly thanx for the grin.


truck...never apologize for rambling here, jack. i am grateful that my words moved you. he will not read this because he chose long ago not to read or understand my poetry. in the end all that matter is that i got clarity from this...and the gears are turning. thank you so much for reading and leaving your thoughts here.


constantine...thank you kindly


john...sometimes the road is full of thorns but we grow along the way, don't we. i saw sunflowers grow on the side of the highway last year on our roadtrip...this reminded me that beauty comes from adversity. thank you for caring.

I can't think of a more beautiful way to hit the nail on the head.
Bravo.
H