I've suffered long enough
Normally I wouldn't mind
Usually I couldn't give a fuck
The more pain the better
But now it's getting ridiculous
A lifetime of nothingness and now this
It's like a sick joke
Played by the dark jester
On the kind folk
Of the humble village
Who never did anything wrong
But everything's pillaged
And now I'm standing here
Staring at the ceiling
Can't see or hear
Just waiting for my calling
They say to love something is to suffer for it
Well, I'm pretty sure I loved you because, I can't even remember the good times we had anymore
All I look back and see is the FOOLISH girl waiting on the borderline, praying, hoping, pleading for your return
I stood there even when I was well aware of her presence
When I was well aware of where you were when you weren't with me... And couldn't be bothered to answer your phone
I laid by the borderline and cried endless tears night after night
Awaiting a return that deep down I knew was NEVER coming
So I have suffered
But, I don't have you
So what did I suffer for exactly?
To watch you build a life with her? The life I thought we had?
To be strung along for months before getting cut off completely
Just left standing in the dust of who I THOUGHT you were
The suffering didn't stop when the truth hit
Or when my head kept telling my heart to give it up
I wanted so desperately not to want you
Not to need you
But thoughts of you.. Of us..
Just consumed my head.. My heart..My life
It eventually got better
I started meaning the goodbyes that I'd been saying for so long
You appeared less and less in my mind
It seemed the suffering was coming to an end
Though I gained NOTHING from it
I know I never crossed your mind even close to how many times I caught myself daydreaming over you
Did you even give a second glance to the girl who literally was holding her heart in her hands... Offering it all to you?
Do memories of any kind ever flood your mind?
If I start to go there, the suffering just starts all over again
And I'm lost in a past love, a past game, a past heartbreak that I can no longer feel
Or I will drown inside my sorrow
So tell me, how much more suffering would I have to do to have you?
How much more suffering do I have to do to be OVER you???
Cause she hasn't felt nearly the amount of hurt that I have
Yet she has you...
And here I am, STILL writing about you
For absolutely nothing
how quickly has it passed
from last year's December
to this year's winter:
a mere return of snow and rains;
That, I wish I could say.
But the truth is;
it was the slowest of the slowest,
the most torturous ride.
Because this year
I've felt each minute ticking by,
each season changing
leaves falling and flowers coming.
Reveling in the not-too-glorious
glitter of unrequited love,
this year I've known suffering.
I stood there and watched as our lamb suffered
I watched the soldiers laugh and jeer at him
yet their was nothing I could do but cry
I saw his mother bitterly weep
as she bathed our lambs feet
the soldiers pushed her away
as if she was a dog
but there was nothing I could do but weep
Her pain was my pain
his pain was my pain
I wanted to run to her
yet there was nothing I could do
Then the soldiers poked and prodded him
faking to give him water and spitting at him
that's when I saw red
and there was something I could do
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
From the time I came out of the womb,
I was nothing, but beaten to the pulse.
Daddy gone, you alone with your three children.
The world must have been ending!
For you couldn't even handle that.
So take it out on us, we are the mistakes.
Smoke your Marijuana, make the head aches go away,
For we were the children who ruined your life.
Now grown up, and out of that hell hole
I realize that you were messed up.
From past problems that run in the family.
But you didn't have to let him do those things to me,
and not say a damn thing,
You knew it was wrong, disgusting.
If you were getting paid, then its fine and dandy.
Take your children's innocence from their grip
And never let them be the kids they wanted to be
Usually one feels something to be a poet,
or at least a decent poet has suffered once.
Parading around maybe just a bit stoic.
Put a smile on your face- guises and fronts.
Different on the inside you wouldn't know it,
Rile me up like a tiger and I will pounce.
Sinking deeper and deeper until I'm lowest
Sometimes I struggle with the correct renounce.
Even the sensation of touch would overwhelm,
Promise to touch my soul, and I will let you in-
Entering into a different kind of realm.
Something tells me that we are truly quite akin,
Lead me and teach me, this is surely your great helm,
Take me away from this world and all of my sin.
their cruel words engraved on her skin,
forget about her, it's the evil within.
the evil that haunts her, that makes her afraid
of life and living, as she turns to the blade.
she makes the first incision, she makes the first cut
she feels the blood pour and keeps her eyes shut.
poor little girl, she's dead on the floor
she can't feel pain or anything no more.
she goes to a place so pretty and white
another girl was taken tonight.
we blame ourselves, we blame each other
we apologise one after another
we say say nice words, we say our respects
but why say it now? now that she's dead?
we could of said it before, before she bled.
but we were too blind, too blind to see
that someone is suffering, suffering in silence
living a life of self harm and violence
a life of hurt, a life of pain
but now that she's dead, we start to complain
how society treated her and that society's to blame
but we are products of society itself
we just ignored it and nobody helped
nobody cared, in fact no one knew
that a girl like this could never pull through
the demons they killed her, they made her like this
something that society would always dismiss.
To know just how He suffered—would be dear—
To know if any Human eyes were near
To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze—
Until it settle broad—on Paradise—
To know if He was patient—part content—
Was Dying as He thought—or different—
Was it a pleasant Day to die—
And did the Sunshine face his way—
What was His furthest mind—Of Home—or God—
Or what the Distant say—
At news that He ceased Human Nature
Such a Day—
And Wishes—Had He Any—
Just His Sigh—Accented—
Had been legible—to Me—
And was He Confident until
Ill fluttered out—in Everlasting Well—
And if He spoke—What name was Best—
What One broke off with
At the Drowsiest—
Was He afraid—or tranquil—
Might He know
How Conscious Consciousness—could grow—
Till Love that was—and Love too best to be—
Meet—and the Junction be Eternity
for Denim McLein
The car had jumped the curb at speed,
it was gray and dull and 2 foot high.
On Thursday, 12 men with guns on their thighs
took notes and talked and looked around and choked.
Tears fell from 24 eyes on Friday at the station,
for a 3 year old was mowed down in a moment
The 18:45 four-door sedan has blood
on its hands.
Window of assurance
A break in the storm
Tell me it's not for nothing
Standing tall against threatening winds
Sweat dripping, fever rising
Had to hold myself up
Knocked back by the aura
Of Buddhist monks at the trough
I would have engaged one in conversation
Talked about dharma and the quality of the food
But not a single one spoke English
Hardcore, real deal
Bald and robed to a man
I only want to know
What prankster spirit tells me
I'm a genius and a poet
So convincing I believe it for a moment
Time out of mind
20 minutes ago
That's how long it took
To comb the thoughts in my lazy head
To come up with this thing
Whatever this thing is
Devils tell me a masterwork
Though I know devils lie
The truth of the matter is in the heart
Not sleight of hand or speed of eye