their cries are haunting me
i wish i could filter out
or at least dim the torment
of the wailing
of those not yet pronounced dead
shrieks reduced to whimpers
on hallow’s eve
From my perspective, these two pieces describe two very different relationships – one fulfilling and the other empty – types that all individuals have probably experienced. One, the other, or both. So, passion-less or passion-filled, what’s your current relationship?
I’ve loved before.
That’s what lovers do.
Never the problem,
just the flue.
My heat rising
closed the vent.
But my match,
to my intensity,
my molten form
held so tenderly.
I still love them all
for that’s what lovers do,
but so grateful each
closed that flue.
My fire is now
a type of glow
when I was finally able
to feel being held,
and the way he made me
along the way,
blue and white
I don’t miss you, but I miss your vibes
I don’t miss you, but I miss your vibes I miss the connection I thought I can vibe on my own I thought I can vibe to the music of nature no matter my mood But how silly I’m, I can vibe to nothing when I miss your vibes If I say I miss you, I miss you that badly as I love you that madly Call me insane that I can never get you out of my head no matter how you treat me Each and every nooks and corners of my cells are craving for your vibes But never you knew how privileged you are in my heart Never you knew how important you are to me Come back and hug me as usual Hug me and squeeze me as always. I don’t say that I miss you But deep in my heart I miss a piece of my smile. I miss your vibes I miss the connection Come back and hug me as usual Also published on Medium
I’ve gone dark.
Could be my pants, shirt, socks, underwear or bra, but rest assured, dark will be somewhere on my body. As dark on my skin as dark as my insides.
It will remind me to get back to the emotions that were lost and fragmented. The good ones that shattered, and then scattered everywhere; becoming thin and almost non-existent. Seems odd, doesn’t it? To select gloom to inspire me after it tore me apart first. It’s my visual sticky note of what I let happen to me. It’s what I must do in order to go on. Otherwise, I don’t think I would.
Every emotion that came at me… shook me… HARD.
I’m scared being left with the impression of nothing being good, ever again.
“See the light in others, and treat them as that is all you see.”
Dr. Wayne Dyer
That’s hard when…
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The mission was to murder all the men on the beaches of Florida in broad daylight. What a time to be alive! We stuck tight together as we got them one by one, by boat and on foot, coming at them from both sides. We were speedy and efficient.
My weapon of choice, a machete; others preferred their machine guns. They thought I left too much space for error or getting killed. Perhaps, but I liked murder up close. Death is where I found my happy place.
I smiled, hearing the men gasping for air, drawing in deep, raspy breaths.
So much gratitude to Gabriela and MasticadoresUSA for accepting this piece to share with their readers. ❤
by Susi Bocks
no one told me
the days of mourning
linger for years
those unforgotten bring us
more bitter than sweet memories
unexpectedly and forcefully
it rises up within us
tears well and overflow incessantly
this insanity of grief, tortuous
when you love hard
you hurt more
death really kills two people
Welcome to MasticadoresUSA.
MasticadoresUSA features talented writers of poetry and short prose. We primarily publish writers who write in English, and are based in the USA. However, while the publication language remains English, we also welcome the work of our fellow writers from all over the world.
What do we want to bring to our readers? Edgar Allan Poe once…
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life is hard
being used, abused and tossed about
but generally something good can come of it
but to be chosen
over and over while watching those remaining
experience the afterglow of seeing another day
… it cracks me up
The dichtomy of living – trying to hide in the thick of the underbelly but also rising above. These two poems illustrate well what being on that spectrum of life means.
put away forever
tears flow morosely
a mere figment
concocted by fear.
i am sure
these tasty treats
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