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  • murryben 4w

    Another weird poem before I sleep.

    @writersnetwork Thank you yet again and again ❤️

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    I take a run down the street,
    It's the damn bluebird in my heart,
    Been doing the talking again
    Been singing me the blues.

    I run and I think of you,
    How many years has it been?
    Four? Five?
    God, I miss you but you'd
    say "Still running away
    from your problems?"

    Sweat trickles down
    my spine. Purple sweat like
    Prince's Purple Rain. I quicken
    my stride.

    I run
    Not stopping,
    I pass a panting obese man,
    How am I any different from him?
    He'd like to keep his life,
    I share this kindred fate with him,
    That's the thing with life,
    It's sweeter when it near its end.

    I run,
    I run my blues away,
    I run and I see faces,
    No, eyes... Sad eyes,
    And I wonder if they
    run to live but
    it's the same

    It's this life,
    This madness
    This sadness
    Urban sadness on urban
    eyes in urban cities
    And it multiplies like neon
    lights in bustling bars
    on a Saturday night.

    I run,
    For dear life,
    For sanity,
    Until the knives
    on my flesh stop
    hurting and my knees
    sag and whisper,
    "You can go back home
    now, empty handed "

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 4w

    Bread should be free,
    Shelter should be free,
    Fire should be free,
    To all and anybody,
    All and anybody,
    All over the world.
    -MONEY MADNESS (D H Lawrence)

    P.s. Treat this poem with humour and a tinge of sarcasm :D

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    I blame it all on Tuesday really,
    It just won't sit well between us
    Now, I'd like my water full you know,
    But my pastor has his fingers
    on the switch in religious fervour.

    And it's a drag, a massive drag to
    have to battle it out early this morning,
    It's not the water's fault truth be told,
    It gushes in gay abandon from deep
    within the earth's open mouth.

    Like good old Christians in the arena,
    We face each other every Tuesday
    The hose within our firm grasp,
    In this game I've come to call the
    tug-of-war and pull, I do, with all
    my might, Only every Tuesday, he
    looms large over me and smirks
    at my beat form.

    I'd like to quote Lawrence and in the
    same breath add "But water should
    be made free, for one and all" but all
    his life he had his lips spell the
    Testament. Why! He can even quote
    exact from the psaltery but doesn't
    know Lawrence.

    I fancy the gods above have
    given up on us, just as our neighbours,
    who put their hands up in despair
    and say "Not again!" every
    Tuesday. I blame it all on Tuesday
    really, It just doesn't sit well with us.

    But Sunday finds us meek and docile,
    Inside God's holy altar. He has his white
    robes on and I am prim and proper,
    My hands resting on my knees. "Love
    thy neighbour" booms loud his voice,
    "Except on Tuesday", I whisper and giggle.
    And to his "Hallelujah", I nod my head and
    say "Amen! Amen! Amen!".

    Our gaze lock, a kind of silent truce
    we agree on, but we measure each other,
    Head to toe, toe to head, dirt blacked
    nails, Dust specked eyes, And we smile
    at each other, And he judge me and I
    judge him like good old Christians.

    But there's Tuesday again you
    understand, And like I've said, It
    doesn't sit well with us. Now I don't
    know much about heaven, But one
    thing I know for sure, I'd like my share
    of water while I'm on earth.

    And this poem, it half breaks my heart
    to say so, But I reckon it will be the fuel
    that will start my fire in perdition when the
    book of Revelation come to pass.

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 4w

    @/writersnetwork thank you for the repost ��

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    ~Gently Falls the Rain~

    I have been growing hope in
    your backyard and stitching
    prayers on crooked spine that
    forgot to stand tall. If my feverish
    lips entreat your cerulean eyes to
    house my crumbling form, wrap
    me up in the flowers of hope that'll
    spring from the cracks of your
    grieving backyard. Bedeck my aching
    bones with flaming irises and tell me
    why, out of all the names your lips
    spelled, mine felt like a melody your
    lips in adoration curled upward to.

    When the yellow sunflower fall
    off my eyes in the wintry suffering
    of a waning moon, unrhyme and set
    free my soul like you would your
    poems. Let me breathe in gentle
    quiet inside the folds of your warm
    reverie unpunctuated. Scatter
    my ash towards where the wild wind
    in untamed glory blows. I shall exist
    in mellow satisfaction in the wind you
    try to catch between your cupped hands
    and in the smile of those abandoned
    flowers you stop to gaze upon daily.

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 5w

    How are you all?

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    Another one takes the bullet
    in this battlefield of skinny
    love again. No, it never was
    you. Blame it on defense
    mechanism, I've mastered the
    art of dancing on eggshells and a
    cornered cur only knows how to
    snarl and bite off hands.

    The truth, I know is, there is no
    truth. Fragility is my other name
    and people like me are just pretty
    bonsais and porcelain dolls that
    come with red dotted warnings,
    'Please handle with care'.

    But I know love, he smells like
    you. I know love. He comes like
    you dressed in suit and tie, walking
    on sand barefoot. I also know, before
    the sand on your feet dries, you'd have
    forgotten me.

    And all I do is mull and mull, again
    and again, on misshapen youth
    and misplaced trust and go back to
    popping pills. We play a game and
    I tell you, "Wear my skin and last
    for a day and I'll love you even
    through clenched jaws and closed
    fists" and watch you buckle,
    legs down, under my tragic weight.

    So leave for now. It tires me,
    No, run. Run for your sanity.
    This battle was never mine to
    begin with...
    Slam shut the door behind you.
    You, of all people should know,
    It is sacrilege to wake the
    sleeping dead.

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 6w


    Sit with me just a little
    And we will talk about
    Everything and nothing.
    I'll tell you of the potted
    cactus sitting on my fridge,
    Of how it dreams of sands
    and sandstorms on wide
    open eyes. I will run my
    fingers through your tousled
    hair and catch the sun within
    my palms to warm your hands.

    Sit with me just a little,
    And we will talk about
    Everything and nothing.
    I'll tell you of this time I
    paused at the door
    and felt a stranger
    in my home, Of how
    I am a lovelorn wolf
    howling for a moon that
    will never be mine.

    Sit with me just a little,
    I'll trace eternity on your
    eyelashes and save the
    sparkle that's in your eyes
    on my fingertips and we
    will tinkle along to the
    wind chimes and I'll belong
    to you and no one and exist in
    everything and nothing.

    Stay with me just a little
    And we will talk,
    About everything
    and nothing

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 6w

    A night like this,
    And thoughts of him
    wiggle it's way to me.
    He was Adam,
    And I, his Eve
    And leaves are to branches,
    Just as hearts are to ribcages,
    Together we ruled Eden,
    On a summer that flowered like
    petunias on a young lass' cheeks,
    On vows of tomorrows sealed tight
    in lockets we wore on our hearts.

    But summer joys are ephemeral
    dreams, Like lit candles conceding
    defeat before angry winds, And forever
    flails blind, a foundling trapped in web
    of regrets. Love today mourns, and sings
    a requiem inside a grave he dug
    with bare hands. We now
    misspell each other's names.

    So now I raise a toast to Naivety and smile,
    Because I once thought love was forever
    but I was wrong.

    ©Meri Murry


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    Summer Mishaps

  • murryben 6w

    The rain is falling and
    I feel an epiphany break
    from my feverish lips.
    Do you hear my heart thump
    in this shattering silence?

    I look at you in morose
    contemplation, sometimes
    in pleading, oftentimes in
    dismal acceptance but your
    eyes, they tell me a story
    of how your house once lost its
    roof and now you stand naked
    in eternal damnation for a life
    you thought would be kind to you.

    We descend lower and lower, Further
    away from this madness of living,
    a life we gamble to spite both devils
    and angels wrecking our well laid
    plans. It breaks their heart to hear
    us say so, but life was simpler
    when we slept foetal in our mother's

    And like two wounded animals,
    Our eyes lick each others wounds asking,
    "Where does it hurt?" and answer in
    just the same breath, "Here and here
    and here, right where my bones are".
    You see, Nobody understands rain and
    grief like we do. They haven't stood in
    the rain, soaked to the bones and wished
    for lightning to strike them dead.

    ©Meri Murry
    #start #wod #benecc
    @writersnetwork thank you for the repost ♡

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    ~Dark Falls the Rain~

  • murryben 7w

    Will read ya'll later

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    What is Red?

    ~the punctuation in a sentence, that makes you stop and pause, for effect~

    ©Meri Murry

  • murryben 7w

    Nary a doubt must your heart murmur
    Whereby the creatures of the sky and land
    To feed on heaven's abundance in the
    Come forth my love, Rest easy your frets.
    In light steps must your form find me,
    Resting in sweet surrender inside Earth's
    sweet bower.

    'Tis here Gaia summons the wind,
    On a conch dazzling with rhinestones,
    And the sky in pearly reverence weeps,
    To witness her nameless divine. She walks in
    lithe grace,
    And the hills and mountains tremble in adoration, While grasses part in delight to make way for her gazelle feet.

    What gaiety must the sunflower feel,
    When the bees cluster to woo her affection 'neath the amber sun!
    What delight it is to have the wind kiss, my flaming cheeks the colour of a cherry!

    Anxious beats my heart, waiting for your footfalls. When your form finds my outstretched arms,
    I shall bedeck your tresses with stars and kiss away the city's smog from thine eyelashes and
    Poetry shall find us running among golden fields,
    Serpentine cities could never truly understand.

    ©Meri Murry

    @writersnetwork thank you for the lovely repost. Much appreciated ♡


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    A Shepherd Serenades his Lady Love

  • murryben 7w

    October arrived early this morning,
    A superstar in gucci gold robes,
    Whispering sweet promises of
    a full stacked granary before the
    Sun's nightly slumber. My thoughts
    wander towards the empyrean, a
    flamboyant enchantress dressed in
    cobalt blue, she floats and sings the
    bashing Sun a serenade, I think I feel
    the tip of my ears burning. The birds,
    in jubilation, breaks into a chorus of
    hallelujahs, a tune that sets my heart
    racing. It is morning like this Peace
    finds me, beneath the wizened tree in
    sweet repose, when the Earth's a tranquil
    mother, waking to the sound of her children's
    laughter. She smells of damp soil and
    rosemary thyme, a concoction
    my nostrils in acceptance sniffs to.
    And so I sit in awe, tasting the bliss of
    solitude on my tongue's tip while
    the lone leaf the old tree clings to, dreams
    of a spring that was promised to him.

    ©Meri Murry

    #patheticfallacy #wod
    #podben #benecc

    @miraquill you don't know how much this means to me. Thank you for the pod ��

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    An October Morning