not a memory I wanted

falling endlessly
darkness awaits
the stars twinkle and glitter above
darkness surrounds me
no sound
no birds no crickets chirp
only the sound of my own breathing
shallow but even
hard to tell now how far I've fallen
how far into the deep dark pit of sadness I've gone

I close my eyes I see his sleeping face
waxen and caked with morticians makeup
thin so thin
his hands together on his chest still spotted with age
I can't do this I can't see him like this yet I still see him like this
not a memory I want

Some People

Some people think I'm mean
I'm not mean just sarcastic
Some people think I don't like them
I like them its just that I don't show it
Some people think I'm aloof
I'm not I'm shy and reserved
Some people think I'm a know it all
Well I'm not no one knows everything -- I use Google
Some people think I don't trust them
I don't .....I'm paranoid from being betrayed to many times
Some people think I'm a better speller
I'm not I use the FireFox spell checker
Some people think I'm sat here all day
I'm not I do sleep sometimes
by
© Missy A

For My Dad.

My dad

He stands with his hands on his hips

He’s slightly stooped

He coughs from the coal dust of many years ago

Thin and grey now

But I remember a tall middle aged man

Who would sit me on his lap and let me stroke his fine black hair

Already starting to grey a little by the time I was born

That’s my dad

A great grand father

Like his clock

Tall but slightly battered through travels of many countries

But now my dad has Parkinson’s his hands wobble

He has trouble moving

His clock a great, great grandfather of a clock will outlast him

Like it has other generations of our family

So sick

I’m sick
Sick of the drama
Sick of the needy wanting people
Sick of the fake people
Sick of the cliques
Sick of 360° acting up and not getting any feedback from the 360° team
Sick of the 360° product blog treating everyone like 4 year olds
Sick of seeing the same interesting pages for the last 5 months
Sick of Yahoo deleting 360° pages without warning and without reason
Sick of the lame so called yahoo police who report pages for the fun of it
Sick of my Home page not updating properly
Sick of people’s blog updates not showing up till sometimes days afterwards
Sick of the idiots
Sick of the morons
Sick of people with white page backgrounds who's themes take ages to load
Sick of Yahoo and the problems that it has
I’m sick of the whole thing
Shut down the ride I want to get off
I want to go home.
If you want me I’ll be elsewhere till Yahoo gets its act together.
So I’ll see you again on Yahoo in oh about 100 years!

poetry

War
War , Peace are these just words ?
or do they mean something, any thing?
to the government officials?
A bomb here, troops deployed there
innocent children dying and upset
the media going crazy showing any thing they can
is it all for nothing , something , anything?
One crazy despot overpowering another
just to be leader of the world?
We sit here and watch and listen
waiting for something, any thing
just waiting for this craziness all to stop.


The Weaver
The Web Weaver of the net
Betrays its network
Entwines its contacts
Deceives its friends
The Web Weaver entangles them in its net
Misleads them, carries them away
Eats them from the inside out
Sucks them dry and leaves the husk
The Web Weaver punishes all concerned
With its web of lies and deceit
Stay away from a Web Weaver
For you too may be the object of its desire for the ultimate entanglement

Weeds
Pulling tugging
Dirt flying
Clods of earth fly over my shoulder
Working furiously
My hands fly
Up to my armpits in earth and worms
I try to pluck those weeds from the soil as fast as they appear
Sometimes I miss one and it tries to start growing wrathfully, purposefully trying
To over run the rest of the garden
Forum moderating don’t you love it

Comet comments

Swirling, twirling, spinning
Around and around
Up and down
You made me smile today
A light in the darkness
A friend of high calibre
A comment in the night sky
Pulled me up out of the gloom
Held my hand
Caressed my heart
And gently sewed me back together
Where a monster had torn my heart and trust apart

Pruning

I pruned, I cut I chopped till my hands bled
The tears ran down my face
The realization that this horrible monster
Of a sucking vine
Was getting to the inter recesses of my mind
Entering sucking
Taking my mind, my breath, my friends
The cuts had to be made
The secateurs furiously chopped
Feverishly they ran hot
Where ever I cut another vine was there pushing its way in
Finally after the very last cut my pruning settled down
There wasn’t much left but I did it
When I grabbed the last remnants
Of that invasive creeper and sliced it down
© Missy Angel 2006

poetry

Sarah
Sarah sweet Sarah
A girl who dreams of cowboy boots and white horses
Of flying over many lands
She dreams of many faces.
A shiny guise covers the real Sarah
The real Sarah is hidden to most,
So exotic yet casual
Relaxed and calm, yet sometimes stressed about the world around her
Sarah reaches out, yet pulls back, her rejection fear takes over.
A beautiful soul who craves for control
Control of the world, its existence, its wars and its games
With a maturity beyond her years, a Sarah moment
Can have you gasping for air
- © Missy A

Teddy bear
He’s noisy he’s gruff
He might growl a bit
He’s actually all bluff
Respect the teddy bear
And he will give you respect in return
Cuddly and warm and covered in fur
The teddy bear is the sweetest guy
And I love him
( guess who he is, you know him)

Potatoes
Potatoes
Plastic
Bag
Of
Potatoes
Eyes
Round
Going green
Anyone want chips?

Gone?
I sit and stare at a blank page
I don’t know what to write
The pc hums
To its self
You’ve got to this stage

Type
But what I do I write
There are no words
Swirling in my head
Flowing forming on the page
My spelling is bad
My syntax wrong
I've got an itchy leg
Oh well I say, back to it
Perhaps I'll eat some bread
Missy A -2004

Poetry

Stare
At the blank page
Sit back
Brush my hand though my hair
Sip the coffee
Lean back on the chair
Stare again
Still blank
The mind is blank
The world is blank too
A canvas, clean and untouched
Waiting to be written on
Still waiting after almost 40 years
I cry for those lost years
The years of blankness
Has there been anything written to those pages
Not much
Do I connect with many?
No not really
Am I noticeable?
Do I want to be?
No not really
I fade into the white
White on white
I mourn for the lost colour
Yet the colour was up to me to draw
And it’s not there
I wipe the tears, clear tears like my life
Away from my face
And ponder
Will any thing at all get drawn from the last 40 years
Or will I just fade away
Back onto the wallpaper
Always there
Just something you never notice

© Missy Angel 2006

Darkness
Darkness Envelops me covers me
My eyes are closing
So tired
Eyes heavy
The world is fading out
Blackness comes cannot move
I float, swim embrace the darkness that I call sleep
Missy Angel 20th Aug 2005


Grief poem

Grief can be
An all consuming flow of emotions
a wave that passes over you
it ebbs and flows
cascades and foams
even sweeps you away and floats you to
somewhere deeper than you have ever gone
gradually carrying you back
to the shore
to lap at your feet occasionaly
just to say
"you will never forget"