Threads of thought tangled tight in my chest.
Pain in taunt chords, keeps me from sleep.
I search for the pill that will start their loosening.
A remedy of peace, for my life, in pieces.
I read a story about a man with a zit.
He asked the doctor: “What do I do?”
“Let it express itself.”
Leave the festering be.
Don’t poke and prod to hurry the release.
Let it express itself.
All things come in their own time.
Even the foul will eventually work loose.
I turn to a book of Rumi.
My late-night soul-lover.
We grapple and tangle naked with God.
Whenever you hurt
You say Lord God!
The answer lives in that
Which bends you low
And makes you cry out.
There in the flickering dark
My beloved sends words.
Across the centuries.
To the broken down, the faltering.
The answer in the crying out.
The answer in an old dream:
Tall building collapsing
Me running up the side.
Dream gravity doesn’t hold.
I run up as tower falls.
The building pivots.
Fulcrum unseen.
The falling flips to rising.
The ruins turned on end.
Stand anew.
When all collapses around me,
I try and remember that dream.
My late-night soul-lover’s proverb:
Joy lives concealed in grief.
In the festering sadness.
Let it express itself.
Valerie Roney 
This is the post-critique version of the last sohbet sharing the editing process (or at least results) of a writers’ collective.
Feel free to comment on the changes – whether the edits improved the piece or if anything was lost.
And also, feel free to add your poetic replies, lets stir up some sohbet action on here again!
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Oh and a big thanks to Shannon for the new title!
You can check out the definition for insomniatic in the Urban Dictionary.
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[Find me, rumi]
ten thousand winds have blown
since we last met
ten thousand footprints upon me
since we last share a moon’s reflection
ten thousand tries
since I attempted
to place my hand in yours
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Valerie is right. this is absolutely exquisite writing, Bryan.
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Like!
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Thank you so much, Donna & Jyanti =^_^=
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It was once said-
keep the walls of your heart
coloured with the skin of your love
you may claim your right as a castle
yours,hers,his,them,theirs
layers of tattoos on skin
it’s noise visualized into graffiti
and I feel like an old train-cart
going southbound towards somewhere warm
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Keep the walls of your heart
They are high and seamless
Not even a fissure
For a Hero to whisper
Tales of adventures
You will not risk
Keep the walls of your heart
In your solitary fortress
It’s all you will lean on
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Heroes are assholes
They just got the lucky draw
the extra bullet in their gun
the fortunate DNA
Because their reach extends farther than our jab
they get to state what really happened
until someone raises an eyebrow
then we get a chance to exist-
as contrasting footnotes
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there is no beginning
visible becomes ceiling
how long i have been
clenched waiting here
i fear each red grain
that steals tomorrow
digit by digit inevitable
lie still in the dark
afraid
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where do the peaceful go? the tranquil?
when the world stands still and the pain of being eases
receeds
transcends
slips away
I suffer your wakefulness
the anxiety, the exhaustion of breathing
when breath alone sustains you.
No nourishment
no repreive from the endless pit of
slumberless acheings
when the pressure boils over
expels the same, hard reality
before the sun rises
sharp and stale and without remorse
a viscous reminder of days past
and nights to come
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Hmm. Reminds me of staying with someone in his last 2 months of life. Am I way off base? Take care.
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