Found this one from when I was all sad :)

Exactly what I need is

To let go of the needles
That stitch me back together
When everything's undone

Exactly what I need is
To let go of the evening
Your moonlight eyelids smeared
With promises of trust

Exactly what you need is
To let go of the muscles
That force your laugh to jingle
Whenever I'm around

Exactly what I need is
To buy my self a pet cat
And love it for its soft fur
And feed it whiskas food
Exactly what we need is
Belief that all we need is
In tea a drop of brandy
And anything but us.

-Tallie

I have a friend called Victoria and she observes people and then writes and sketches in a flowered notebook with ribbons securing it shut and blank pages. She speaks really quietly and sort of tries to get out what she wants to say as quickly as possible, covering her mouth with a relaxed hand but always smiling. I like her a lot. She notices important things about people. She sort of makes me think – like the time, a while ago, when she said ‘Everybody’s lovely’. If it wasn’t Victoria that said it, I would’ve thought to myself – ‘How cliche’, but now that I come to think about it, with a heart full like a balloon full of helium about to rise into the air, she’s right. It’s easy to go through life anticipating a trip-up. The thing is, it’s all physics. What I mean is, people meet, like two waves going towards each other at the same frequency and wavelength and get caught up. This forms a standing wave – it doesn’t move. There’s the maxima, the parts that oscillate wildly up and down – the anti nodes. There’s the minima, the parts in the middle that stay the same. They are what we look for. The minima. The parts that stay the same - even though both waves are moving.

-Tallie

I'm gone.

Logic and reason are lost to me.
While I'm dancing naked, through the trees.
Listening to sound, of the leaves,
As they quiver in the summer breeze.
Doing what ever I please.
While I seize.
This oppertunity.
To be free.
To test my body.

My senses at a new height.
While I dash around, in the moon light.
I think I might.
Lose myself and I like.
That thaught, I wont fight.
To remain human, is not right.
I'd rather let my soul take flight.
Into the night.

I'm gone.

I can't do spontaneous spoken word poetry

Spontaneity
Is cruel to me
I like being spontaneous physically
Like
Decide to run to the next bench
And




Stopping in random places.


-Tallie

:)

When they said ‘Chicago Rock’
I could smell no cigarette simmer
I could see no tattooed sinner
Screaming into the shattering mike

Centre roundabout empty and warm
Echo flapping of rats with wings
They are full of greasy Greggs
They are watching our stories mix

So sarcastic and bloody upfront
It erupts in my thunderous laughter
That reflects on the pavement and after
Circles into the BMX wheels

We are people with something to do
Them – to trick their bodies to balance
Screeching breaks and bouncing tires
A free circus of cycling guru.

What a way to spend a night
Do the twist under streetlamp torchlight
Figures flatter like lowering leaves
Sweeping writing on asphalt,
                                            I believe.

-Tallie

Lee

Hello Dad, I'm the son you left.
With a Mum bereft.
You didn't care for Steph.
What I don't get.
Is why you're upset.
You made your choice, you walked away.
Now look at you, old and grey.
And over weight.
I'll bet you hate.
The fact that I.
No longer cry.
That you're not here.
I shed no tears.
Replaced my fears.
With hate and rage.
Locked love in, a metaphorical cage.
Soon to be running away.
I'll probably, return one day.
But before I go, I want to say.
You've only got yourself to blame.
-H

You are one of my favourite people

She's a whirlwind with directile disfunction,
not knowing where she's going,
laughing all the while.
Stark.
Confidence of a king, a head full of clouds.
Three thousand boyfriends a year,
sampling them all, as if slices of cake,
apart from a special one, or two,
to give her the credit,
who she savours, and when devoured, cries at the absence.
She's a rocket with a halo of sparks, no angel by far, but then again,
far more innocent than she might first appear.

Insults bursting with love, secrets shared, a pair of explorers where there were no bounds, no limits.

A shooting star, a total embarrassment, pure energy, and a laugh with the occasional snort.
Tall and lithe, with the grace of a stumbling two year old,
Stories told, brimming with hyperbole, to entertain, to be loved.
and in those stories the line blurs with reality, and with the reality she wished would happen.
Most can't see that blurred line.
But those close to her see it with a sharpness that almost pains, but instead soothes.

A hereditary spark of childlikeness,
infectious.
And she's a crazily beautiful creature,
who's not about to slow down,
for the days, or the stars,
and thank goodness for that.

-HNR

Sorry.

I'm sorry if I offend.
All I want to do now is to make amends.

I'm sorry if I cause you pain.
Oh, look at that, I've done it again.

I'm sorry, I was never the son that you wanted.
I can't even ryme that, I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry that I didn't die.
All those times,
That I could.

I'm sorry that I keep having to apologise.
Please don't let this be where our friendship dies.

I'm sorry for acting the twat, it's my only defence.
I want to run, 'cause the pain in my heart is too immense.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this face to face.
Or figure out the right time, the right place.

Just generally.
I'm so, so, sorry.
-H

All alone, no one in sight.
Burning up as I try to fight.
The feeling.
Reeling,
Me in deeper.
Let this creature.
Run away.
The pain is too great.
As my heart palpitates.
And I rush.
To crush.
The love I feel.
I need to steal.
Myself.



I'll run.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Further.
With the same heart beat.
To match the rythm of my feet.
As I pound away the earth.
Miles from my place of birth.
They'll disappear.
Along with me and all the fear.
I carried with myself.
Far from my family.
Far from my friends.
Far from my life.


If I come back.
You wont recognise me.
-H

Directnons

Sliding through my fingertips

rawred pain

holding on. holding on.

Till you can hold on no longer

then the rawred pain

hold on

It's gone. You've gone,

light flitters by

stormy insides

curling, unfurling

sickening

not physical

sickening, upheavals

'I mean, for you, whats home.'

And they say,

And when they say,

its rhetorical.

fucking rhetorical.

and its the same as falling

stormy insides

curling

unfurling,

dewdrops pouring

-HNR

Solitude

So here I am, at last.
A dog for company and the whole house is ours.
The family is away for a couple of days but my life should still go on as it
However when the house is empty like this I lose all interest in the house, I put the dog on a lead, pull on a jacket and head out to the hills just a mile away.
I arrive at my favourite place on the hill and the sun begins to rise, lighting up the land before me so I can see for miles.
As the light touches my face I let my thoughts go walkabout and reflect things recently passed.
My dog sits down beside me and looks in the same direction but I barely notice as I'm now lost in deep thought.
After delving through my latest thoughts and troubles and resolving them, I snap out of my stupour and walk down the hill to find a dry ptch of grass.
As I lie down I take note of how quiet everything before the sound of rush our traffic pollutes the area.
As I hear the first signs of rush hour I rise up and walk back him and rouse the dog who has also drifted off in the peaceful enviroment.
I look forward to the next day hoping for good weather so I can again enjoy the peace of being in touch with my inner-self.
Jim

Time to go.

I'm at the stage now, where I should be going it alone. Reseach it. Eventually we all leave our packs. It's where we run alone, for a time. The most likely time we'll die, through some way or another. It's when we run until we find our own person to run with. Or people. But usually, we find our soul mate. Start our own pack. Our own families. I need to run, away alone. From everyone. Find my own pack. It's hard, but, well, it's just nature. It's the way it goes. That's me, that's where I need to be.

“Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn’t someone, somewhere, laughing?”

- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
 
 
image from flickr.com

It's not when you're hurt that you suddenly cannot stop yourself crying.

It's not when you've been let down. Then - you wait it out, look the person in the eye and smile, then almost willingly, with a feeling of conviction and purpose let it out in the comfort of your home, in the capsule of your personal pill - your castle. A house or a park, a room or a cellar, you can often choose a place and time.

It's not when you've been physically hurt. The feeling of sucking up the spillage of pain when you fall over or hit your toe gives a feeling of bravery - like when you were little and grazed your knees and mum or nanny or grandma were there to give you a plaster and stitch the physical with the emotive.

No.

It's when you're leaving the country again and the father that time and again lets you down in tiny things and has an emotion span of a turtle, he offers to help you with the bags on the way to the station and then kisses you on the cheek. What do you do? Silly girl, cry.

to the heavens...

to the heavens..., originally uploaded by ucumari.

We are just

Misguided ghosts
Traveling endlessly

-Paramore

Montreal lit up, originally uploaded by caribb.

'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts
Traveling endlessly
Don't need no roads
In fact they follow me

-Paramore

, originally uploaded by `Madness ♥ K.

Things are looking up, oh finally!

, originally uploaded by zack attack▲.

'Honestly, can you believe we crossed the world while it's asleep?' - Paramore

It's just simply, love.

We're stood in a forest. Just me and you. I have you in my arms, and for once you are smiling.
I look up, above your head and smell the air. "Storm's coming." I say calmly. You do not find this in the least bit strange, or odd or any other word that describes what I have just said. You simply stay where you are, even when the rain starts to pour. Every drop a liquid kiss on your bare shoulders. Thousands of tiny explosions around us, as the rain bounces off of leaves, and branches. Lightning tearing the thick, dark clouds above in two, and the thunder, shaking the ground beneath our feet. Still, you are not at all bothered.
Most people do not like this weather. They are scared of it. The loud noises and the depressingly dark sky, and the never ending rain. Not us though. It's pure pathetic fallacy. The strom, is the love we bare each other. Full of a roaring, furious passion. It is the polar opposite to Shakespeare's Tempest. It's just simply, love.