Heartbreak had me kissing other people to get over you

I fell in love with too many ghost of you

I became a haunted house

Too spook

With the thought of start over

Too afraid of cobwebs of memories

That were

Edited to

Not see

The brokenness in every glass you shatter

Inside of me

I tried to turn your spells into lyrics

Thinking

I could

Pull you from the graves of

Under tow

And resurrect all the good moments

And leave all the darkness

And anger

Buried in coffins of scrapbooks

And I be lying if I didn’t bend over bodies

And try to resurrect

You through them

Searching for

Someone like you

See lips

Are the same on every body

But they all smelled like charcoal

And empty catacombs

That lack substance

just walking Cadviers

I became a coroner

Them asking

Why did I our love die

So fast

I can’t bring myself

To say

You

Ever tried to love a dead thing back to life .....

Mourning you

Was like loving you in every person I fell for

and you are dead to me love

I heard you tasted me on your lips like an aftertaste

and spat her out

its not my fault

that our tongues

curled around each other

performing love language

french kiss

interwining of words

Of me

that pitter patter upstairs

moves boxes in the shelves of your heart

we ..... ..long and drawl out

we .....a holy martinony of A soul with another soul

before there was her

there was me

\

/

/

:(

Her mind trickled, into bridges and faraway places called no man’s land, fallen into a nirvana neverland, for her mind couldn’t stay awake, so she succeed into the tomorrows. sleep her revolving door, a never-ending chase of a bunny rabbit that chimes she is late, the red queen who yells off with her, she loses her head, every time she is grappling with the time, she can´t buy back. Her name is Alice. Her last wonderland, sometimes we trickle too deep in the mattress and sink into cotton filled dreams and the hallucinations feel real. This is her Story. It was a heavy drunken summer sunshine, that filtered the forest of Hildridge, Maine The clouds a puffy white, that had the color of cocaine. The grass was a soft a moss The willows trees danced to the whisper of the winds, Giggling girls dressed in pretty purples, luxury lilacs and widows white crafted from the fabric of lace and chiffon, hairs done up in cute curls and flowers entangled in braids and aristocratic styles. The violins hummed to the quiet, and there was Alice, she odd and estranged, everyone assumed she was bored with reality and she needed to grow up.

________________________^^^——

She had fallen asleep during her lessons and they even named her sleeping beauty because of how much she slept during the day, always well rested and daintily innocent and gorgeous. She would wake, and people would ask where she would go. She would mumble wonderland, everyone would laugh at the juxtaposition she was in, her muscles move so lackadaisically from her sleep, and the way she grappled with the world around her, her body moved like a balance beam, bowing into the person face as she laughed and giggled into the mouths of fools and her body spasm into a jolt of happiness, so it would seem to be. She would hallucinate herself in a world, where Cheshire cats existed, and her only friends were named Tweedled-dee and Dum; red queens were judge jury and justice and caterpillars smoke hookah and flowers sing where hats were mad, and rabbits carried watches and said they saying all things she deemed to be true, I am late, I am late, for Alice was always two seconds behind, catching up to the endless game of time, which faulted her existence. When she would wake, she would yell about a queen who deemed her head too fit for her throne, Sometimes, it was like—it was her body crystallized where she laid. Sometimes, she remind of us of Snow White, the way she lay still and sometimes we would catch her not speaking or moving, it was like she was frozen in time. But this was Alice, our Alice forever in Wonderland.

Hey everyone!

Long time no post. I’ve been absolutely slammed but while I have a minute or two, I thought I’d check in and let you know what I’ve been up to and let you all know about some exciting opportunities.

Some of you will remember the Letters from Prison Portal here, where Paul and I would visit prison, teach writing workshops, and post their pieces here. This is where PoetsIN was born. Paul and I realised that writing was a form of therapy and the prisoners were reporting astounding results.

After parting ways with Prose, we tailored our groups further with an emphasis on rehabilitation, mental illness, and suicide prevention. We began to measure the outcomes of each session, and over a set period of time had evidence that what we do worked with 99% of the service users. To put this into perspective, CBT in the UK via the NHS works in 48% of the cases they work with. If CBT doesn’t work, the service user is given no other therapy. Talking therapy such as counselling is no longer provided on the NHS because that was only successful 29% of the time, which is way below the threshold of success the NHS will work with.

With our 99% success rate we went to the UK Charity Commission. Wrote our governing document, recruited 5 trustees, filled in a ridiculously long application form to register as a charity, and submitted it. Then we waited.

Whilst we sat thinking of all the things we could’ve included in our application but didn’t, and worrying about all the things we may have done wrong, we carried on with our groups. Expanding them and trialling new techniques and measures of capturing data to ensure maximum impact. We got such good feedback from the prison directors that we were offered a grant from a trust for $50k - before we were even a charity - which is unheard of. Visit www.poetsin.com/testimonials to see what people have been saying about what we do.

Four months passed and we finally received our answer. We’d done it! We were a charity.

Since then we have won three awards. We were named Mental Health Heroes 2017 alongside Talia Bennington, Mental health workshop provider of the year 2018, and Nonprofit of the Year 2018. We have also employed some faces you may recognise. The lovely Karen, who used to design Prose images, the badass Lish, and we’ve just hired a wonderful fundraiser, Pippa. MilesNowhere and Amanda Cary have also joined the family and have been vital to PoetsIN, and my own personal sanity.

We are now a week away from launching online writing therapy groups that people can access from wherever they’re located, along with in-community groups external to prisons across certain parts of the UK to begin with.

We also have a growing Facebook Group (www.facebook.com/groups/poetsin) that is full of old faces from here and new faces from beyond, along with a website that has mental health and writing blogs galore.

We’ve opened our own publishing company, PoetsIN Publishing, that offers the best royalties EVER and any royalties taken by PoetsIN Publishing are all ploughed back into the charity to reach more people who need our help. The best thing about the publishing company is that we want to publish poetry. Many traditional publishers don’t. We do. We are publishing print and eBooks, and have already accepted submissions that will be released this year.

We have a current challenge running for an anthology. Our first anthology open submission call was a huge success and will be published within the next month - we’re just putting the final touches to it. The current submission call is on the topic of addiction, and you are all more than welcome to submit! The more the merrier. Visit this link to submit https://buff.ly/2EdHxwe

Those of you in the UK should come down to our huge all day fundraising event in Camden, London 28th July. It is being held at the iconic Nambucca venue that has housed Oasis, Blur, and many more. We have a full day of amazing lineups from spoken word poets, comedians, and acoustic and indie music. All acts are donating their talents and time to us for free along with many companies who have donated prizes that we will raffle and auction off at the event. We also have a Skydive coming up in September, more details about that can be found on our social networks.

There have been people that doubted Paul and I - along with our mission - but our determination, skills, and experience have served us well, built our confidence, and given a much-needed lifeline to those that truly needed keeping safe.

Setting up a charity is far harder than setting up a business, and if we can do that, you guys can do anything. One word, one poem, one story at a time.

Paul and I both hope you’ll join us elsewhere on the interwebs but in the meantime, write on!

#PoetsIN #PoetsINPrison #Charity #NPO #Publishing #WritingContests #GetPublished #Poetry #InsideOut

Los pies que se van

sobre distancias largas,

sobre piedra y monte y camino,

los pies que cruzan sobre todas estas,

los lavan hasta que están limpios.

Los lavan, los lavan,

con aceite de almendra,

Los lavan hasta que están limpios

Los secan en una toalla

de lana fina,

los lavan hasta que están limpios.

Las manos que

conocieron a la gente,

que sembraban y tocaban,

los manos que crearon

en espacio vacío,

las lavan hasta que están limpias

Las lavan, las lavan,

con aceite de almendra,

las lavan hasta que están limpias

Las secan, en una toalla

de lana fina,

las lavan hasta que están limpias.

En primer lugar en Madrid, donde primero te vi sentado en la cafetería en la calle de Palma pensé que debo estar soñando 

Porque nunca pensé que vería una hermosa mujer 

Bebiendo su café tan tarde en la noche, pero esto es España

Et puis j’ai pensé que je vous ai vu encore une fois, à Paris Encore une fois, un café, cette fois-ci sur Boulavard de Saint-Germain Vous ont été boire votre café et nos yeux se sont réunis Je ne savais pas qu’il serait le verrou de nos yeux

Le baiser de la mort pour moi

Ses yeux était belles mais tellement obsédant Je pouvais sentir la mort derrière ses yeux, comme un loup Et puis je me suis cassé le regard et j’ai commencé à marcher. En regardant derrière moi, je pouvais sentir quelqu'un qui surveille

Obtenant plus près et plus proche que j’ai fait à ma porte J’ai pressé pour obtenir dans et verrouillé le boulon Dire une je vous salut Marie comme je l’ai fait.

Ich wischte die eindringliche schöne Frau aus meiner Erinnerung, aber in Franfort, ich fühlte die Kälte wie ich den Tag war ich in Paris, die die Kälte der Nacht eingeschlichen, bevor ich das Café, sah ich betrat um zu sehen Sie, wenn sie da war. Sehen, dass sie nicht Ich setzte mich und bestellte eine Tasse. Und es schien, als ob ich der einzige im Café war.

Wenn ich eine Hand auf meine Schulter fühlte, "entschuldigen Sie mich, aber bist du allein?" Ich drehte mich um und da stand sie, eine krankmachende Gefühl von Angst und Lust geweckt Aus ihrem blassen weißen Gesicht und ihren schönen vollen roten Lippen

ch wollte so schlecht schmecken auf, sie zu sehen.

"Ich beitreten kann?", sagte sie. "Aber natürlich" ist alles, was ich sagen könnte. Sie saß und sie bestellte einen starken Kaffee, der stärkste hatten Sie Dass ich riechen konnte, bevor es in der Tabelle erreicht.  "Das ist stark, pflegt es halten Sie sich in der Nacht?" Sie lächelte und sagte: "Es hilft, um den Gaumen zu reinigen"

Und so wir starrten einander, lassen die Lust und das Gefühl der Plünderung Bauen. Als wir fertig waren, lächelte sie und sagte: "würden Sie so freundlich sein, mir in meine Wohnung zu Fuß?" "Es wäre eine Ehre." Aus meinem Mund kam, aber ich wollte laufen Und ich wollte auch um herauszufinden, wie ich ihre Einladung aufgegriffen.

Gehen ihre 5 Blöcke zu ihrer Wohnung, ich hielt an der Tür und sagte: "nun gute Nacht" "Bitte, würden Sie mir an meine Tür, nur für einen Moment folgen" Ich langsam lächelte und nickte.

Als wir in den Aufzug kam, küßte sie mich lange und leidenschaftlich. Unsere Atmung erhöht, da ich mich unser Lust-Gebäude fühlte. Wenn der Aufzug dinged, wir stiegen aus unserem Kuss nicht zu brechen und schaffte es Ihre Tür

Sie öffnete es mit einer Drehung und bekamen wir in und ich fühlte mich auf der Couch unsicher, wie ich dort hingekommen. Sie war auf mich und ich fragte: "Warum ich nur Sie in Cafés gesehen?"

Sie lächelte mich an und dann sah ich ihre Zähne, die ich kannte, war es zu spät Sie brachte den Mund nach unten auf meinen Hals und es war so ein süßes Gefühl.

Hob sie nach kurzer Zeit und mit blutroten Augen, "mein lieber, ich habe immer Kaffee nach dem Essen, es reinigt den Gaumen"

Note:  I always wanted to be a polyglot, I think they are so cool. Forgive me any mis-translations.  My German is horribly under used as are my Spanish and French.

I will also post in English.

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things

I don't like to analyze/explain a poem word for word because I'm not good at it, it feels likes I'm ruining its sweetness and value. However, this poem hit and broke and squeezed my heart sooo hard for many reasons, in many ways since I first time read it. It's basically encourages the reader to be himself. It's telling the reader that we all are not perfect and we don't have to feel low for being imperfect. We all suffer in a way or another. 

You're not alone. 

I LOVE EVERY WORD OF THIS POEM.

But the most lines that really hit me are,

"You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting."

"You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."

"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination."

And "announcing your place in the family of thing" most deeply beautiful line.

I REALLY LOVE EVERY WORD OF THIS POEM! EVERY WORD!!

This link to the poem and its analysis for whom might be interested in in-depth analysis.

http://gwenglish.blogspot.com/2014/04/poem-of-day-mary-olivers-wild-geese.html

And if you this poem you might want to check out this one called 

"the summer day" also by Mary Oliver! 

https://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/133.html

chainedinshadow

@Tylasmith I have been treated poorly by people of all races; that's life. And do NOT speak to me about not understanding racism; I have lived with racism all my life; I live IN THE DEEP SOUTH! And like I said, almost all of my friends are black. And guess what? They are disgusted with Black Lives. I don't have time to argue with you more, I'm sorry; I would also appreciate it if you used language that was more proper and less filthy.

32 minutes ago

chainedinshadow

@Tylamsith I have also been called a lot worse than "cracker" by many people; there are wrongs on both sides of the issue. And you're going on about people labeling others...and you are labeling me.

@Tylasmith I'm sorry, I had to delete your comments because you're getting out of hand and using inappropriate language. I DO know about racism, and I have seen the slums, and they were pretty much a very big part of my life. And you know what? Everyone is responsible for their choices. Just because your black doesn't dictate whether you end up in prison--what you DO dictates that. What IS the point of Black Lives Matter, because so far, they're missing the point, too. And if you deal drugs, guess what? You deserve to go to jail. Drugs ruin lives and rip apart families.

No, I said I deleted them because I do not appreciate people using the "s" and "f" word in my presence; it's foul, it's dirty, and it's base. And it only reveals what type of person you are. And you're not the type of person I have respect for.

tell to my face what i am, that's okay because i don't respect you either 

I never labeled you what are you two playing the victim here never labeled you, and number one don't accuse me of shit because when u make an accusation u make an ass out of yourself , I am tired of you crying boohoo about what happened to you , you never been through no real shit , 

I am tired of your ass talking about the deep south and fuck the south, okay , I am tired you of  telling me what your black friends said about black lives matter, they don't speak for all African-Americans, you don't know crap about racism, unless u experienced it , u have no idea what it is like to be a minority, why because you are part of the majority. I tired of you wearing like living in the deep south like a scar of war , or that it makes u expert on racism, life is all about the experience and the pain, the little shit that has happened to you is not even a big deal , you know why because you can still go out of this world and still achive your dreams , because why because your white, whereas the black man doesnt have the same shot at getting over the humps of hate and people being racism to him , because all the media and society do is treat black people less than we are , we were born into slavery brought out slavery only to be slaves of the media a puppet to what a black man should be or what any other minority should be because we fear maybe one day we end up like Trayvon Martin or where not black because we dont act a certain way or because of how much melanin in or skin were not black enough , or when your called a nigger because your black and you played the harriet tubman in a school play , or when your called a grease monkey because you got oil in your hair , or when a kid tells you to go get the tennis ball slave , or  when your in the store and you calsuay slip your hand in your pocket and the store manager asks you to empty out your pockets and calls you a dirty nigga , or when your put in a program for bad kids because you stand up for yourself and people label you as the crazy black women ,

why are you bringing up drugs with black people, you lost me there-sterotypical i dk  i am confused 

I DO know about racism, and I have seen the slums, and they were pretty much a very big part of my life. And you know what? Everyone is responsible for their choices.

know you don't darling, a big part of your life, so your sitting down and watching it happen

@lonely No one even treats black people differently. If ANYONE is prejudice, it's the black people, who claim the whites hate them...which is bunk. Most of my friends are black, with the exception of three, and I do not treat them any differently, and no one treats them any differently. Even the ones who live in some bad sections of NY!! So, like I said, stop seeing something that's NOT THERE!

race blaming, dare i say racist , no one treats  blacks differently ,I think your blind

es. People go on too much about racism between black and white, and that only makes it worse. The fact is this: the racism is NOT as bad as people make it sound; and with the media making everything sound worse than it is, people get riled up, and it only BECOMES worse.

racism isnt bad as it sounds , i thought you saw the slums( I have seen the slums, and they were pretty much a very big part of my life.)

of it so no noubt you say the negative affects of racism had on the people affected , and what it did to people and how it affected there self-esteem 

time is a gift 

it gave you yesterday 

to prevent today problems 

 to heal 

tomorrow's 

scars