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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

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All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

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cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

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A Dog Should Have His Tail...

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When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

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It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

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To The Myth-Makers Liars & Self-Deceivers I Am Now A Non-Believer

You may be right
you may be wrong.
You may never have known me never ever,
all along.
And you don't get to say anything.
You are silence.
Not even squeaking.
Words you thought you were speaking
are nothings.
Just a momentary stirrings of the air.
You will be gone.

You were wrong.
Never right.
Thinking, whining,
opining you knew me.
We're not even strangers passing
through the dark night of the soul.

I was a nothing nothing
in your tiny tiny minds.
Made it so easy-peasy for you all to be
more than unkind.
All of the wailing hurricanes of hate you blew
were putrid.

There will be such a peace when you all
have gone.
My emotional sense of self is wise and strong.
I know I know what's stink on stink.
And when a rose bush is a thorn bramble.

Standing it all alone in my own small light
that was the problem, wasn't it?
That was my fight,
the one you all objected to.
You stood together in one long line
and swallowed gulping darkness
then belched it out.
All of you were drowning in
your residual lake of anger
and the
swirling doubts about who you were.
You tried to drown me
as you were drowning.

You think  of me as a glimmer.
A dim reflection.
An annoying glare.
You misunderstand and misunderstood,
were not aware.
Or should I say
were un-enlightened?
The light caught you by surprise.
It made you angry.

Now it takes too much of me
to hate the whole of you.
May your regiments soldier on
into your bad night
and hate me as you will. Your
cognitive dissonance does not inform,
it only wounds and confounds.
Together or separately,
you may continue to all fall down,
lick your pretended hurts.
I'm not listening.

I will no longer be your just deserts.

Copyright March 4, 2013  All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World

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