In the crook of my sanity
sat this poor little me
bereft of reason
naught of gold
one with the concrete
so cold and bold
not for wisdom
never for hope
full of wishes
for food and cloth
if I beg, will it stop?
if I cry, will I drop-
if I jump, will it be better?
and I could laugh
and cry
and tell them I am
still, still stuck there
now, better at hiding
full of warmth
from my blood sweater
sewn from shame
and disappointment
it never gets better
it only gets quiet
and you drown in silence
and acceptance,
that fate is this
it is meant to be.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Is poetry dead
took its last breath
eating up all it's words
I'm feeling so hurt
poetry is dead
we mourned for days
sounds of sobs heard around the world

we slept in silence
lights on

poetry is dead
hello poetry welcome back to the internet

I don’t find myself being happy,
My taste in men is rather lacking.
They’re like the whiskey in my mouth I taste when I’m hungover.
Feels good at the time but I’m always sorry when it’s over.
I don’t feel good enough in my current relationship,
The man I’m with .. makes me feel like a *******.
He doesn’t look at me the way he looks at other woman,
and he tells me clothes don’t do me justice and that I look better naked.
and the lies are too hard to ignore anymore,
When I have to fight for his attention and he treats me like I’m his chore.
He said he was on his way home to go to to bed, but he did me real *****,
he already told me earlier he got invited to go out drinking at 10:30,
But why would he lie?
Because the last time we went out drinking together he did things that really hurt me.
This relationship is toxic because I already knew what would happen after that lie.
He’d ignore all my texts and “forget to reply”
The way it works is he will apologize and feel bad the next day,
Because I’m such a nice girl and he sees his mistake,
But it’s not enough to say I forgive him or pretend it’s okay,
Hes breaking my trust every lie, each day.
I’ve tried so hard to get him to realize how much I care,
But he doesn’t seem to understand what he’s doing isn’t fair.
From the candlelit dinners to the mixed CDs and “Bang Me” valentines cake, i now realized were a waste of time and my own **** mistakes.
The nights I spent running my fingers through his hair ...which was he favorite thing
will just have to be memories that he’ll have to bear.


Because I’m not enough to get him to change,
It’s not enough to be me.
I haven’t any choice anymore
Hes forcing me to leave

words moved me, and
God
i wanted my fingers to blister and my
bones to ache
but my mind withers and my heart breaks
i swallowed ink and still i couldn’t
make the words flow like they used to as if
almost as if
they refuse to

In Amsterdam in transit you have to pass security a second time  
(You do not belong here
     you do not belong)
Short of precious minutes I had the urgent answer to his question ready
‘My mother is in hospital’
He asked (have they been trained?)
Is she ok?

Time notwithstanding, keen not to let this opportunity slip by
of putting border policing in its rightful place
next to human suffering
I answered No.

She’s dying.

It worked.
He shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable, a bit ashamed
The ground I’d occupied and thought was safe sloped suddenly away
(Don’t feel it.
     Do not let him in.)
Hairline cracks appearing everywhere I said
‘But no one lives forever, right?’

Uncertainty.
Dark hesitancy in his eyes.
The thought of what to lose a mother might
perhaps be like.
Not good.

I glimpsed then the significance of mother to a man.

And then I ran.

this world spins way too fast
my head turns a little too slow

When the sunshine gets lost,
and I'm all alone
Time is forever and still.
Remnants of the sane
remain discarded and gone.
It's cold here and souls divide,
only to remain vacant and up for sale...

i tried to find
a song
a poem
a piece of art
something, anything
that felt like
or sounded like
you

i looked
and searched
asked
and wondered
yet no matter what
i tried
there was nothing
that came close

for you
my platonic soulmate
are one of a kind
a light in the dark
warm, soft
kind, loving
selfless
a best friend

i couldn't find anything
because
nothing
nothing is like you

This world is full of liars
Cheaters
Frauds
Trash talkers
No good doers
And people who will hurt you

But with you they don’t even exist, with you I feel my worries wash away

there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.

The people that hurt you
Made you stronger head up
Protect your heart stay truthful
All the betrayal ended it all
Kept you loyal to yourself
Tears wiped away healing
The emotionless cold stare
Recovery is a processes
Setting goals to achieve
Back to grind find a way

At the junk dealer

I write, of course, life stories --


of the furniture.

I still remember the day
I said it
When I was kneeling
Touching your feet
I love you dear
Being away from you
Makes me fear
You are the first
And the last
You are the world
That's my only word
Tears rolling over my cheeks
Have made of me an artist
An artist who paints with his tears
Your portrait is not for sale
Cz I am your only male.
Without you I am nothing
Your presence is like wings
Making me fly so high.
You made me someone
When all people around
Saw me no one
But something.

fingertips on mine
tell me that you'll wait for me
dawn breaks; the day comes.

Today I’ll ponder,
on these scars.
Tonight I’ll wish,
upon a star.

Tomorrow may bring,
another wound,
but wounds can heal,
if treated soon.

Yesterday,
I thought of death,
and felt the wind,
sigh with his breath.

Not today,
he whispered clear,
perhaps tomorrow,
but do not fear.

In the end,
he comes to all.
The weak, the strong,
the big and small.

He’s timeless and constant,
Death’s always “been”,
and he has no pity,
foe or friend.

He’ll lead me on,
to the unknown,
giving me the thing,
he can never own.

So I will not fear him,
and I shall not fret.
For tomorrow,
has not happened yet.

I'm in a bathroom at a party,
             why do i always lock myself away...
               I don't know how to have fun,
              so please don't depend at all on me...
                         I like my solitude

Here lies the dead wishes of men
once alive
the dense shrubs hide the pain
weeds thrive.

Here lies a grieving heart
once much joyous
the windows are broken and hurt
bricks break like glass.

Here lies the power of wealth
once pompous
now in ruined health
seems it wasn't all that precious.

Here lies the remains of heydays
once vibrant
with bones the jackal plays
reminds time is a tyrant.

Here lies moss on the wall
once finely painted
now dark and dull
the air is serpent scented.

I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.

Things on hold
Bleeding in and the
flowers of surgery are
wilting  

Waiting is sand spreading
on the ground, slippery
and ever widening

My
determination is
rippled.

Morning is thwarted.

I am unmouthed.

Today is

unwritten.



Caroline Shank
5.6.24

I am stupid
And naive
To think this would be easy.

I am stupid
And naive
To believe it would be served
On a silver platter.

I am a complete and utter ignoramus.

Sometimes when sorrow sinks in
I worry a wailing might screech from my chest
And every person for miles might hear it.
Or feel it shake the air, like hot flame
Ripples carrying my saddest indulgence
As the beast that weighs me down, croons.
So that people quaking, step out of the way
And we have room to sing the lonely wail, some more.

I just have to look
at you
to feel it.

To know it
I have to look
away.

Like the pages
of a book
mid-tornado,

Fragments of
information, the pieces
all out of place.

Still,

I believe you
beg to be
read.

Different
lines on the thermometer,
when it happens,
it moves all by itself.

Deliberately
random restless waters,
terrestrials standing on their banks,
recidivists having deposits
and withdrawals
at an inflated rate.

Dungeoneering
--the amplified gesture
means a convenience charge,
elevate me later.

Defibrillation,
I'm on the existential end
of viral paradise,
"the files you have on me"
are a trail of stolen pebbles,
sure to inoculate my final
walk into the sea.

She pulls herself upon a cloud
With pen and pad in tow
Imagination in her heart
The gentle Earth below
A poet’s mind starts wandering
An endless world awaits
She leans beyond the cloud’s extent
Peers down and contemplates
Amazed at how it looks from here
Her perch up in the sky
The whole of all she’s ever seen
Reflects now in her eye
But she is more than what she’s seen
Knows more than where she’s been
For what exists is infinite
Condensed within her pen
She shuts her eyes to find her muse
A smile finds her face
Upon her pad she pours her soul
Filling up the space
The words are hers but not from her
The ink just seems to flow
An energy directs her hand
And tells it where to go
She lifts her pen, and calmly reads
Words she’s never said
Feelings she has never felt
In lines she’s never read
Through her words we’ll touch the sky
Find places never been
And briefly know infinity
Condensed within her pen

here's one for life's pocket folder
we're not getting old
we're just getting older