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Posts Tagged ‘suffering’

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If I were
broken vessel
that held no rain,
devoid of content
for none remained.
A blessed channel
then I’d be,
for life, growth
maturity.

Then a broken vessel
I’d rather be,
for all of heaven
would flow through
me.

Benjamin Thomas

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Her thorn an anxious load
His hammock is peace

Her glimpse
A thirsty razor

That never
Sleeps

Shreds
All tranquility

His confidence
released

In pain

From the
Bone

Ruptured
On the
spot

An avulsion
Fracture

Is sustained

His cadence
Is slowed

A new gait
Is wrought

Distorted
Tripped

A direct hit
Is maintained

Underneath
His countenance

His breath
Ignites

A searing
fire

Her heart
Still in chains

Inflamed

With desire
In need

His glare
Her stare

Mutually
Agreed

To negotiate
A truce

His love
Her lips

Spruced

A lasting
recovery

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I’d rather be a island float
than dance in a nation of thieves
I’d rather extricate all emotion’s growth than have you see me grieve
I’d rather have a day of rain
than hope for a searing ray
I’d rather witness blooms unfurl
with fruits in lavish green to stay
I’d rather be well known by others
than swallowed whole by unknown
I’d rather sport a genuine frown
with my brothers than don a smiling mask and crown
I’d much rather be built up with others
than suffer alone as a rolling stone

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Catch me
in crystalline
teardrops
falling

My inward
parts exposed
in glassy
saskatoon
fruits

As you see
them,
you’ll know the
roots–
of pain, exuded

the true self
leaked, protruded
out within lucent
waters

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A relentless grizzly just behind the eyes;
an achy brain that begs for relief,
who’s the thug that stole my peace of mind? And replaced it with mischief?

A crowd of lumbar woes greet me, a gang of ailing carpals wish me good night,
two flat feet sizzle like bacon, my skin, the only thing that feels right.

A slow rumbled snore just over the shoulder, a gentle breeze at the foot of the bed. A faithful spinning fan seeks to console me, just as the days pages unfold in my head.

The stoic walls well encompass me,
with them there is no veil, no disguise,
The roof even seeks to cover me,
from the steady precipitation of my own eyes.

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Why hog all the misery?
When others are willing
to share it with comfort and care.

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Why do we hide from others
the weeping pain we suffer?
Defenses mound like the great wall of China
at the simplest phrase,  “how are you doing”?
As if it had radiographic qualities to discern
the intrinsic fractures in our real person.
Why do we then protect the lie that we live,
and keep those whom we love at arms length?
Only to harbor the contagions of pride and independence,
the merciless pathogens of the human race?
Ludicrous.
So why is it that in our hardest times
we intend to remain opaque?
Impenetrable to the light that surrounds us?
And why on earth would we even attempt to bind
our own gaping wounds?
Ludicrous.
And why do we still grieve as if we had no hope?
We have the most solid hope, yet we grieve as though we had none.
So why do we insist on suffering with misery?
That bum.
Inviting him to our front door with open arms,
downing a couple of cocktails of self-pity with him?
Absolutely ludicrous.
But when one member suffers, all the members
suffer with it.
Yet, self inflicted isolation remains the norm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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