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Array ( [sid] => 177955 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Odd Weed Grows [time] => 2014-03-17 15:37:51 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I stumbled upon old memories.
These ghosts of haunted houses.
Paint that once was peeling, now faded to stains.
The rooms littered with rotten experiences.

This door still stands.
The one I slammed my fists to seek out real pain.
Brown dents of old blood.
Scratches from my childhood fingers in the grain.

Within the closet of my old rooms unlocks the nightmares.
The corner imprint of my huddle still marks the floor.
Blind remembrance of watching threw shutters.
Voices raised, always thrashing your pain at the defenseless victim.

God gave you a name, one that is held most dear.
A protector, a caregiver, a mother.
You were nothing of the sort.

Demons may have followed but that pain is not hidden behind these tired eyes.
I have grown to stroll past these abandoned lots.
Only the odd weed grows.

Demons may have stayed, the heart knows no hate.
Past so old in these abandoned lots.
Only the odd weed grows.

I look to the sky and see reflections of you in the shadows.
Fate a gentle kiss, a reminder of my plight to nirvana.
Where roses seldom grow.
Is this all the memories I hold.
Is there nothing dear in my beginnings.
Just the odd weeds that grow?

Demons may have stayed, the heart knows only love.
Scars heal in this empty lot.
Only the odd weed grows.

[comments] => 4 [counter] => 441 [topic] => 13 [informant] => lostrelic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

The Odd Weed Grows

Contributed by lostrelic on Monday, 17th March 2014 @ 03:37:51 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

I stumbled upon old memories.
These ghosts of haunted houses.
Paint that once was peeling, now faded to stains.
The rooms littered with rotten experiences.

This door still stands.
The one I slammed my fists to seek out real pain.
Brown dents of old blood.
Scratches from my childhood fingers in the grain.

Within the closet of my old rooms unlocks the nightmares.
The corner imprint of my huddle still marks the floor.
Blind remembrance of watching threw shutters.
Voices raised, always thrashing your pain at the defenseless victim.

God gave you a name, one that is held most dear.
A protector, a caregiver, a mother.
You were nothing of the sort.

Demons may have followed but that pain is not hidden behind these tired eyes.
I have grown to stroll past these abandoned lots.
Only the odd weed grows.

Demons may have stayed, the heart knows no hate.
Past so old in these abandoned lots.
Only the odd weed grows.

I look to the sky and see reflections of you in the shadows.
Fate a gentle kiss, a reminder of my plight to nirvana.
Where roses seldom grow.
Is this all the memories I hold.
Is there nothing dear in my beginnings.
Just the odd weeds that grow?

Demons may have stayed, the heart knows only love.
Scars heal in this empty lot.
Only the odd weed grows.

Copyright © lostrelic ... [ 2014-03-17 15:37:51]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Odd Weed Grows (User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on Monday, 17th March 2014 @ 04:55:08 PM AEST
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I can tell this is close to your heart, and I can relate to this quite a bit. Deep, passionate write. Thanks for sharing.

~Scorp

Re: The Odd Weed Grows (User Rating: 1 )
by Voices-Ghost on Monday, 17th March 2014 @ 08:54:25 PM AEST
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These types of writes always leave me speechless for a moment. Strong emotions tear through the heart.
Amazing how the power of Love finds a way to survive and flourish.

Keep up the great work!

Voice's Ghost

Re: The Odd Weed Grows (User Rating: 1 )
by cashfan1 on Tuesday, 18th March 2014 @ 07:11:58 AM AEST
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This is deep and very powerful. Poetry from the heart for the heart. Outstanding.

Re: The Odd Weed Grows (User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on Sunday, 27th April 2014 @ 11:03:29 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

i love it from title to last line, its beautiful though sooo sad....

hugs n' love nessa

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