Everything I would Hide

Take a picture and I’ll see
nothing but an anomaly
just a fleeting moment
caught on a flash drive
don't be surprised
or lower the blinds and cry
that's just the way it is
I'm the sole remaining object
too far removed
after the roof caved in
This Life is too hard
I sit alone in the backyard
it is just too easy
to be the neighborhood freak
I am the focal point
adding an uncertain element
to such a straight laced week
neighbors point and wave
acting all friendly like
when deep down inside
wishing to drive it home
on the edge of a paring knife
Walking down by the river
polluted water overflowing its banks
lost generation in the bushes
finding that behavior rather rank
nothing ever changes
fashion fades into fly by night fads
this in turn becomes fashionable
in some periodical rag
only to be swallowed up
and regurgitated
beneath track lighting and shiny chrome
where teenagers roam
now it’s back on their backs
seeping into homes
sometimes it's alright
to go it alone


mathiasthom
written 12/30/09

When the black sun rises we will say our final prayer.
We will splay our fingers upon the dusty ground
And wet the earth with our tears.
God, save us.
Our blind eyes will turn to one another,
Our brothers and sisters in every way.
We will cling to one another,
Fingernails digging into the flesh of our equally fallen brethren,
Mouths agape with soundless cries of terror
And regret.
As our senses fail and our ears go deaf
We will fall amid the frenzied wails of our families.
We will die in the desert,
The land full of sinners, and ourselves full of sin,
Throats warm with blood.

renaissance2010
Turning to photography as a creative outlet during a valiant fight with breast cancer at age 34, renaissance10 survived and set up a photo contest to help raise funds for the Lavender Trust, a nonprofit that provides information and support to younger women with breast cancer. In the first two years, the competition brought in over £65,000 (that's $107,260.73 U.S.!), with entries from 130 countries last year. Renaissance10 recently joined LiveJournal to meet other passionate photographers and find supportive friends.

curiouscupcakes
Holy buttercream frosting! If you have a sweet tooth for sugary goodness or a wandering eye for whimsical confection, this is pure ecstasy iced in deliciousness. Hailing the beloved cupcake as the artisinal canvas of choice, you'll enjoy recipes, photos, and bountiful tips to bake up a batch, whether your taste leans toward French classics or funky and flavorful.

mission101
With New Years in the offing, it's an ideal time to reflect on past accomplishments, make peace with disappointments, and refocus the lens on future goals. This community welcomes you to create a bucket list of 101 things you plan to accomplish in the next 1,001 days. Offering support, guidance, and inspiration, this is a great way to jumpstart those pesky resolutions.

'Depression is a sign of weakness'
old age is a sign of meekness
how I longed to face you
and make you eat those words
you calmly spat in my face
announcing to the world
my situation
with such subtle humiliation
it was not warranted or appreciated
only these eyes shot sparks
blinking back retorts
remaining calm when I wanted nothing more
than to flip this table
smash out every window
start a world war
walk out that door
He misses her,
yet he's never truly alone
while I'm shrugging off ghosts
blowing dust off the phone
belittle my name
telling me how I'm to blame
while relatives siphoned
all the generosity from me
forgetting all the times
they used me as some crutch
left me all alone
as they played the weekends away
So I stood my ground
feeling like I've some nails to pound
temples throbbing like a simpleton's stammer
this situation is quite damaged
need to put a damper on these feelings,
before I end up screaming
crucified on the inside,
Jesus...


mathiasthom
written 12/28/09

Imagine a meeting in the flesh
not as you are now,
but how you appeared back then
to the time of peer pressure
equivalent to standing on a precipice,
cracking beneath a hot, angry fissure
a time of unwanted leisure

He was there,
standing with his back to the wall
waiting to make his exit
this was not his game
already pegged as strange
objects exploding all around him
heading for a predetermined fall

Drawing lots is a fool’s game
when one already knows the eventual outcome
its easy to walk away from this
there's the door over there
with the hulking presence of authority
breathing down your neck
undressing you with coal black eyes
hoping to exploit perceived weakness

Disarming them all
with a saccharine smile
running around that corner
to an open doorway
beckoning with sunlight, wispy clouds
and the attention span
of a sugar spun child

Late December
when did it pass?
receded to the back recesses
fading in the forgotten smoke
this spell quite broken
with the frailty of despair
yet, I remembered you

mathiasthom
written 12/27/09

some things
never change
maybe we can
start all over again

maybe
maybe not

some people
never change
so maybe we can

maybe
maybe not

Whistling in the distance, the wind
cards her lithe fingers through the blackened branches
Of the poplar field.
Crickets screech a wailing song
As their brittle exoskeletons freeze;
Icy December beds of frost settle over
Frantically thrashing legs.
Unbidden, the moon glares out from the dark,
Blanketing the dying insects in her ghostly glow.
Crawling from under an embankment of this soil-smelling terrain,
A young creature slowly straightens, spine unfurling like a flag of surrender
To the gloom.
The wetness in the grass seeps into the soles of
The nightwalker’s bare feet, toes scrunching into the mud,
Her tattered yellow sundress a painful reminder of daytime
In the blue-gray haze of the night.
Her face is peculiar- human, yet not.
A minuscule nose rests delicately beneath great, orb-like eyes.
Her expression is watery and mournful.
She plucks a small cricket from the ground,
Interrupting its dying dirge,
And cups it in her tiny hands,
Fascinated.
She huffs on it gently,
Beseeching it to live.
She remembers that when the frigid wet-cold sets into her frail bones,
Her mother rubs her vigorously with her calloused hands,
And so she begins her work.
The insect is crushed, and the young night-girl
Tearfully wipes her hands on her dress.

( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

A monster
that is what you make me out to be
A monster
that is what you think of me

Let’s pause for a while
this world is too fast
never finding a reason to smile
your 'darkness' is all an act

In a black mood
with a cloud to match
hovering over your head
some wild storm coming up fast

Don't need the calmness
centered in the eye
or another line
to follow suit

What's the matter with you?
is this another ruse?
just light the stinking fuse
an eruption long over due

Blow up, explode
shudder and gasp
grow up, implode
self awareness beyond your grasp

Say anything
then back peddle on it
there is always someone meddling
with their hands full of it

Misleading gestures
with a sign language all its own
there are no sign posts
when you're thrown into this world,
disowned

mathiasthom
written 12/24/09

My fingers were slipping down your spine
As if they were doing the warm-up for a piano play
Your heart beat strong, you said you were all mine
And deep inside I felt that you would stay
With me this night,
Until the sun will rise again
You did forgot your pride
You said we were no longer friends
I’ve got the confidence
To take you to the stars
With zero tolerance
You’ve been caressing all my scars

I feel trapped
I am in Hell
stuck in this body
this ugly situation
should be getting better
but it has become like prison
and familiar faces have become
complete strangers to me
Am I really so different?
Walked further off the path then you
had to see the road ahead
but I might as well be dead
for all the good it didn't do

The sun is shining
on only a select few
but all I have is my poetry
I am such a tool

Now don't get upset
just talking trash
wondering how long
ill fortunes might last?
four days until another holiday
absent family will leave me alone
won't even bother to phone
never even asked me to come home
friends that mean well
are too far away
I keep on changing
this situation keeps rearranging
finding it all quite damaging
another scar for my soul
but I still have control
pushing it all away
sailing out a window
whether it is night or day
sometimes I can't even fathom
wondering why life seems completely random

The sun is shining
on only a select few
but all I have is my poetry
I am such a fool

mathiasthom
written 12/21/09

Sending out Christmas cards
containing visual bragging rights
an odd line that is an email address
a photograph of an imploded life

Somehow, feeling no connection
forty -two years to answer to
nothing is stable, or even vertical
there is no reason to respond to you

Such an in denial stranger
sharing the same last name
the same rushing blood
pounding through miles of veins

Looking for similarities
lost in a conundrum of complexities
this world is infertile and barren
impotent, vacant eyes duly staring

Already 2 years have passed
since the last forced gathering
hoping this silence will last
beyond the point of bickering or caring

The accumulating dust silently gathers
on the discarded envelope
destined for a cleansing by fire,
ashes to useless ashes


mathiasthom
written 12/21/09

You taught me what it was to love
What was the real passion when the sunset came
You showed how it felt when a tender kiss was not enough
Your hands and lips were playing the exciting game
And it was funny to repent
Of all the crazy things that we had done
To feel how our happiness was coming to an end
To realize that I have missed the only one.

I often look into the mirror, waiting for it to speak,
to tell me 'The Answer' and it never does.
My image just stares back and then I want to break
that mirror to smithereens... all of that because,

I cannot find my self, my truth, or my sanity,
I'm searching for the calm within; true calm, no din.
When searching the mirror, it appears as blatant vanity,
But, I'm really looking deeper than just my skin.

I see the background switch and change;
I hear the sounds, see the seasons-go-round,
I'm dizzied, flushed, frazzled, estranged,
laughing, crying,
aloof and dying,
and then no sound... no worries

A mirror tells no lies
it only tells a tale
of long ago and now, (you know?)
but never
tomorrow's story.



(C) eroticmiranda

Thirty years ago, December 21st, 1979,
at precisely 10:11 pm, in Saginaw, Michigan,
a child was born into my life.

From my womb, through my legs, to my arms and into my heart...
My first-born child came forth to bless this world... and me...

I prayed for a daughter... That face... that small little face with soft, roundish, peachy-pink cheeks, the slightest of hair with a dainty hint of auburn and little rose-red, rosebud lips pursed so sweetly, as only a daughter of mine could have. When I first saw her eyes open wide, I was amazed at how large and blue her eyes were! She was like this little fairy-being, only no wings in sight!

When I finally came to, after sleeping off the weariness of childbirth, I unwrapped all the wrappings, including her diaper, to marvel at her little, tiny, perfect body. And I was in awe. I will never forget the tears of blessed joy I felt straight from the depth of my heart through my eyes only to baptize her with them... my pure love... My Aubrey Star...

It was then that I knew, without a doubt, that God existed, and that He answered prayers.


Happy 30th Birthday Aubrey Star!

em

Sing out all your genocide.
Come on baby, it's a world-wide suicide.

Beat them down
With words, not stones.
Shred their skin,
And shatter their bones.

Dust to dust--
All is now ash.
Dance to death,
And mosh to His wrath.

Church-bound hymns passed to the ages
(Sing out all your genocide.)
By priests and zombies-- all-knowing sages.
(Come on baby, it's a world-wide suicide.)

Leave them out
On streets, not homes.
Steal their lives,
And rip up their loans.

Money will trickle.
Not your fault they're poor.
They must be too lazy
To walk out the door.

Marching by, Republican faces
(March with all your genocide.)
All about capitalism and the war between races.
(Come on baby, it's a world-wide suicide.)

And here we all are.
Killing each other.
Screwing our sister
And beating our brother.

Nothing is better.
Change is just change.
Hearts are still darker.
Everyone's strange.

Crying out against unfamiliar faces.
No one will listen,
Stuck on the bible
And the war between races.

Everyone different
Beaten down by the gospel.
And everyone bowing
To humankind's theocracy bull.

But hey, spread it 'round.

Sing out all your genocide.

Sing with me, baby.

It's a world-wide suicide.

i_hope_that
For many of us, the holidays can be kind of rough. If you're searching for a network of understanding friends, this ultra-nurturing community encourages you to express your heartfelt wishes and offer other members encouragement and acceptance. Not for the terminally snarky or emotionally-challenged, this is a good-spirited place to lend comfort and support.