Who am I? 

Everyone seems to know 

Who they are, 

Where they want to go. 

But who do I yearn to be? 

Avoiding, averting, 

I steer clear of discussion 

About the future.

For if I join in,

I cower like an abused puppy put out of a home. 

If you watched a movie of my life, 

It would be fair to call me 

A liar, 

A sob story, 

Someone who only wants attention. 

While all those may be true, 

I want to be something different. 

But still you'll find me 

Asking myself

Who am I? 

We are the street dancers

We are forever young

We are nobody’s son

And no one’s daughter

We are the street dancers

We have achieved nothing

And we have not learnt a thing

But how to dance as goddesses

You say I must work harder to

Progress into the future but

I’m running at full speed to

Stay exactly where I am

So you look down on me

Frown your trimmed eyebrows

Clack your polished black shoes

And hurry on, wanderer

How can you look and still not see?

We are the street dancers

We are kings and queens

We are forever free

all you can do is

sit and let it.

sit and let it raze you;

say Elohim.

say Elohim

that fucker, really?

that fucker really

hurt me.

~repeat after me: anger is not a sin

selah.k_x

"When?" Is all I can say to you now.

When in a million years,

Would I try to hurt you?

When in my life time,

Would I truly hate you?

For "When?" is all I can say to you now.

When will I stop trying,

To say I'm sorry?

When will I stop giving you

My everlasting love?

When will I stop

Feeling guilty for hurting you?

"When?" Is all I can say to you now.

When will I stop trying to,

Let you see that I truly care?

When will it be,

When I can be at ease

When you finally see the light in me?

When will the time go by,

Before we stop butting heads?

When will you see that,

I truly didn't mean any harm?

"When?" Is all I can say to you now?

#love #greatest-regret

Time has spun its line, and met it's end.

Choices made, too many sins to

repent.

His presence is still and alarming.

As I gaze upon the eyes, they stare back like two black holes consuming all life, it shows my mortal life was weak.

And with a furrowed brow, he asked, "Does Death become you?"

Where did it go? This life run short.

I remember so little as it ran its course.

His closeness feels cold and frightening.

The dark shroud surrounds me, pulling me to lay down in unpleasant dreams, I know my mortal life was brief.

And as he bowed his head so he said, "Death becomes you."

These brittle bones and diseased flesh have no strength.

No chance to fight, no shot at redemption.

The darkness seems calm and inviting.

The icy hand opens toward my clenched fist. The door closes, a chapter ends, my mortal life is seized.

And with a toothy grin he exclaimed, "Death becomes you."

This week we thought we'd go multi-Throwback Thursday to a past Throwback Thursday where we looked at the magnificent word 'sesquipedalian'. Never one to shy away from a chunky word, so we went full tilt, and went with one of the biggest:

Etymology

From hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian, an extension of sesquipedalian with monstrum ‎(“monster”) and a truncated, misspelled form of hippopotamus, intended to exaggerate the length of the word itself and the idea of the size of the words being feared; combined with phobia.

Noun

hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

1. The fear of long words.

Alternative forms: hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is arguably a common misspelling, perhaps on purpose, to make the word even longer, as most dictionaries consider one ‘P’ to be standard.

Used in a sentence: “Paul has a propensity for perpetuating his hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia and thusly, he rarely uses a lexicon consisting of more than three component syllables.” ‎

Vernacular: Rarely used in the day to day, and it is unlikely that this 15-syllable contrivance is ever used purely for its meaning. The term sesquipedalophobia is recognized in formal writing, while the four-syllable phrase fear of long words is certainly worth considering as a more widely accepted yet far more boring option.

As always, do please head on over to the beautiful blog site to see this in its full, stunning, Karen embellished glory. Same place as always. You know you want to:

http://blog.theprose.com/2015/12/tbt-the-etymology-of-hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia/

Opening my front door,

I race to the stop.

A yellow blob hurls towards me,

Two lights flashing.

Yellow,

Now red.

You greet me

As I mumble a hello

And head to my seat.

'It's to early for social interaction'

I tell myself as I pull out my headphones.

A five minute ride

And I'm here.

The concept I love

Ruined by people I hate.

I’m perched here

Thinking about

How you could mean

So much to me one summer

But be gone the next.

Confused, dazed, baffled,

I try to fathom

How you could mean

So much to me

When you're so easy to forget.

It puzzles me

How you could mean

So much to me

When I left you behind

Without a single fret.

Soft kisses

Land on my skin.

Calming and pure.

I stand outside

And let you in

As the air begins to chill.

All alone I stand,

Ready for the storm.

As you, 

The thunder, 

The lightning,

Make me feel 

Content and peaceful.