Sew Your Wounds

like it says above
what sews your wounds when your hurt?
one poem per poet
make it hmmm . . . 100 words or less
new or old poems accepted
collabs not accepted (cause if i like it, who am i to choose?)
i wish anyine who tries the best of luck
this will go on 1 month because i dont want to come a week later and allready have to decide, so take your time!

“Burning the Nag in Sukasana”
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The grand design of
territorial schemes
ails us incessantly.
Pain solutions abound, these
pollutions avalanche our tortured minds,
desperately we seek comfort from our infirmities,
to escape from the reality of the discomfort.
We read about them in magazines,
watch them on television,
even talk to therapists about them,
paying them big bucks to tell us, “Good Luck.”
What the hell is that, stashing our
cash in offshore bank accounts,
still wanting another piece of us.
I say, skip the cheap red wine,
say adios to the casting couch,
burn some Nag Champa,
sit down in Sukasana,
breathe deeply,
filling your lungs
looking within for answers
you already know.
The hourglass will do the
rest of the magic trick.

Marring my skin with hatred
Hoping to shrink the hole in my chest
Waiting for pain in my head to stop
When it does I can breath  

I grab your stuffed turtle
Hold it to my chest
Knowing you are forever gone hurts
Opening up wounds yet finalising others

Open Mind



i want to be blind..
therefor to have no open mind...
so i can no longer see the evil that has fallin
apone my world.
never to see the murderous attempts by those i love,
those i once knew...
i want to hid from them...
from sin, from hate,from the darkness.
i want to fall out of this earth,
to appear in a new do-mention.
i want to be blind..
to have no open mind..
so i shall never see what i have actualized...
the charechter that i have commenced...
to appear pure like a Tsutsuji flower..
i want to see no more..
of what has become of this world..
i want it to cease to exist.
from parts that i have belived once.
i want to be blind,
therefor to have no open mind.
 
-Kumiko Yamamoto

One good thing about music is that when it hits you, you feel no pain-Bob Marley.

Cut open like a carcass,
On a butchers table,
Split asunder like a tree,
By a lumberjacks hand.

Lie back, light up and drift away.
Not better, not worse, just faster space.
Grams burn away and the man is on call,
Lost without it, I am hurting still.

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1UJ9QUOVaTY/Td5UYYru-HI/AAAAAAAAHtE/Zswbesl1IqA/s1600/Stevie+Nicks+-2.jpg
I sat forlorn under emerald trees
face buried deep between my knees
Abnoba then carressed my hair
whispering secrets of a world that cares

at last at last a glimmering hope
flit cross my brow like shimmering ghost

I sat morose under the moon
dripped gossamer tears that made me swoon
Rhiannon knelt to kiss my face
and sew my fears with abeyance lace

at last at last under lumina light
a heaviness in me took flight


I danced upon the sea at last
Manannan Mac Lir did gently splash
the deep serene of indigo
into my darkened weary soul

at last at last warmth reached my spine
to take away my deep repine



I have no idea why the pic got so big. Must be Stevie and her sorcery powers lol

Tinkling Tourniquet's

Sitting here listening to the cutting things silence likes to say
Eyes looking for closer detail in what darkness likes to show
There's no need to speak my mind
Words wouldn't be enough, but thats something Debussy knows

Dawn will shed some light, showing  truths that hung in the air and bled
It's no use to speak, what could I say?
What use to cry? Santana's guitar does it so well

And slowly as once again night begins to fall
My hurts begin to fade, as my musics hand slips softly into my own