Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Title

That's When the Nightmare's Begin
Posted by at

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

When do the nightmares begin? Now? I think so..I keep having nightmares that a thief stole the key to my apartment and he stole my favorite CD, my journals, my dad's confessions, and a few other things I haven't noticed yet while I was sleeping or in the shower...wait, that WASN'T a nightmare. That actually HAPPENED! OMG!!

July 14, 2008 at 9:06 AM
ladyvee dapoet said...

Hmm Since MY stuff is still plastered on this blog and YOU'RE not using it, I believe I will.

'That's When the Nightmares Begin'

Hot, sticky, Georgia July
Unfolds the creeping
Tumultuous lies
Behind the backs and under
The covers with laughing, Heartless, conniving lovers.
If it was true
It should have been said
Rather than hopping from
Sofa to floor to bed.
What a waste of the clock to be
F*cking a whore who's done this
So Many times before.
Smile on your face one day
Slap on mine a few days after
The guise was uncovered
I'll be healing forever
This wounded heart
Bandaid on my soul
I'll demand my respect
And for the TRUTH to be told.

-7/31/09

July 31, 2009 at 9:06 AM
ladyvee dapoet said...

"The Flood"

It would be amazing
And utterly beneficial
If I could cry waterfalls
Gushing and flowing in reverse
Billowing over concrete
Boulder-like obstacles
Drenching everything in its path
Like stinging mad fire hoses
Let loose on the unsuspected
Like rewinding New Orleans
When the levees broke loose
Drain all the water dry
And let the sun shine again
Pour buckets and buckets
Of crystalline tears
Over my recorded thoughts
To wash away the piercing
Memory of us
The confusion of why
The hurt of not knowing
Mental baggage unleashed
Focused eyes
Forever more

August 19, 2009 at 10:57 AM
ladyvee dapoet said...

"I've completely moved on."
He said through cryptic letters
Hotmailed through cyberspace.
Packed up all the gifts, soft touches
Our green sofa, t-shirt thread sheets
Ramen noodles and potato bread
And left the front door unlocked
For anyone to waltz right in amongst
The ghosts of our entanglings.
Lotion rubbed on ashy, work trodden feet.
Novels and notebooks scattered in stacks.
Remnants of my life stolen and hidden
To keep just a little bit of me still around.
Quick flashes of candles, back rubs,
Melancholy wooden African masks,
Plastic, see-through shower curtain,
The soap we shared those lonely nights...
Homemade wine, the scrabble magnetic letters
That held my sentences on the fridge...
Erased.
Gone.
"Completely moved on..."
Echoing.
Vibrating in between my ears.
Now,
It's finally
My turn.

September 21, 2009 at 10:01 AM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)