there was a simile and a metaphor wrapped inside the finest golden linen inside a box and in the box was a dream and in that dream was a choice and in that choice was a life and in the seconds of bright light a time no one can possibly remember i was chosen i was born as i flew out somehow through the tides of the ocean and the rippling waters in a pond in the backyard was my hope and my peace and my gift wrapped inside wrapped around a little finger
and to cut the womb and let it flow out what is this why and how and nolonger must i suffer every single word of gratitude and fulfillment feels like a knife stuck in ice and now in my heart as a rainbow emerges from the rain an i bet you were happy i knew you were happy
thanks for sharing your great time while i sat and drowned in my own tears and my own sweat thanks for telling me what now was i am i just tell him because every breakdown every moment has led up to this to this and i wish to God i was older to get away from this to cut the womb the be reborn to cut the womb to cut the womb to cut the womb upside down down upside right left
to the circle to the circle never ending is what they said
feel a whole lot better
easy to feel passed over in a time likethis
and you help i know you just want to help but this is getting so
getting so perfectly annihilating so perfectly exhausting so perfectly pure so perfectly wrapped like the bow ties of the gentleman around and i know i'm not that I know it and i cry myself to sleep and drown in my tears and my years i can't help but think that without you by my side all the time i'm
downwardspiraling towards a perfect circle in sync i can no longer wait and be the most patient man in the universe four long years can not turn to five and if so i selfdestruct i will nolonger yes no
I came to you as a pilgrim,
palms turned upward,
You are a beautiful enigma,
a bonified butcher knife
taking aim at my cynic's perspective.
Your hands drum
to beats my heart misses.
My lungs forget
the in and out, in and out
we've been perfecting.
You bring me closer to divinity
than I have ever come before.
I can see you now, eyes ignited
to match my joint.
Probably that accident had its toll,
I neither completely forgot nor do I remember it all.
Vague memories pop-up in my mind,
I neither entirely forgot her kiss nor do I remember it all.
Old friends call me an experienced hunter,
I neither was ever one they call 'hunter' nor do I wish to be at all.
Yesteryears seem a distant memory,
I read a lesson after the event took place & changed my life.
Eager to move forward and see,
I read a lesson after each day passes away on the edge of the knife.
Kite I aspire to be flying free,
I read a lesson in future which is blurry but surely seems full of strife.
My HP Poem #7
© Atul Kaushal
so my main dude got shot head flat outta caseys
understand we take head shots
but we never studder when we talk to females
our lips never quiver when we cry
but when we die
frokm the evils of this world
broke and a penny negative the bank
took overdraft fees
and now we gotta hustle
me and my homies hustle chicken sandwhiches
and half sack bitches
so understand we die
but we die broke
like everyone else
we die poor and broke
but we still get head till the hoe chokes
spit is alright but the
the hoe gets the knife
when the dick goes in
she falls in love
At the start of the day,
You grace me with your presence.
In my blurry-eyed,
nearly-awake state of mind,
I can still see your smile
More clearly than anything in my life.
The way your lips perk
As you blow a kiss my way
And smile like the first
Time I saw you.
All I need is your love.
I wanted to make you
The happiest girl in the world
And stay forevermore in your heart
And you in my arms.
I'm sorry, my Love.
My hands crimson
With my spilled blood
As I pull the knife out of my side..
Andrew D. Robertson
rain rain go away , because of you the pain will stay .slit my throut ,cut out my heart leave me her , tear me apart . poison tears stream down my face , my heart beats at a pace as i try tostand again ; alone and standing in the rain . i dont need you anymore . . . is ehat i think while tears pour . i hate you like i hate my life ; but love is what cuts like a knife . love is death and death is you ; its pain stains like a tattoo . those memories com back again and bind me in the rope of pain crimson blood storms fown myhand like a long , silk ribbon tied by a thread , to a platinam bullet , a hole in my skall
Pride fills your chest and you feel anthemic
Your thoughts are contagious
Phrases like lasers
At empty stages
But in the background
A playwright bleeds out on paper
Everyone told him fear is not real
But the lie burns acrid
Tastes like acid
What idiot would back this?
Grappling with ghosts
Only gets your ass kicked
Ignore it, and
It becomes a rope around your throat
It’s a gag dipped in vinegar
Tightened over tongue
Wafting in your nostrils
Water in your lungs
Embrace it? It is sound and fury
And makes you question
That you have any questions left to ask
Or any words left to say
Any poems meant to write
Any battles worth the fight
Any gifts left to give
Any life left to live
Poet, Fear has a body
With a thousand different heads
This is what it looks like
This slimy source of all your dread
It's your mother when she told you to get a "real" job
It's your bills, it's your rejection slips
It's the "Sorry, not the right fit"s
It's the superstars
Without your scars
Whose work reads like shit
Fear is real
Don’t ever let them tell you differently
It’s real and it’s homicidal
it's maniacal and it's wild
it grips a butcher knife
and it comes to carve out your heart
cut away the playwright's smile
So, poet, posture cat-like
Beckon the foaming dog to bite
But bite you on your ground tonight
"I won’t pretend you aren’t there
so you can shadow my back
dagger between my ribs
kill my dreams in their crib"
Come get me, Fear
I smell you
I feel you
I’m ready for you
I am turning up the volume
On this symphony in my soul,
I am silencing all interruptions
From the world's static here below.
I am participating in life's mysteries
Inviting new adventures in my life,
I am nourishing my hungry spirit
Pruning my mind with wisdom's knife.
Calmly lost in rich vibrant colors
In life's imagery pool I drown,
Peacefully searching for perfect reconciliation
Of my past, my future and my now.
You don't know how long i've struggled
crying each and every night
but today's the day I redeem myself
as I sit here writing in this light
I write the last chapters of my life
and place it on this shelf
then I go to grab this kitchen knife
waiting to take my place in hell
but now it's time to wonder, who really knew me well?
So by the time you dress up in black,
my story has been found
but don't you weep young one
cause even the mighty have fell.
It’s sad, I think,
to realize this -
as an adult,
that you can never be sure
who to trust.
Because you can never be sure who will betray you
or play you
or just not care.
who are supposed to be a good friends.
For all they know,
you could be alone in your room
with a knife to your wrist again.
But they don’t care regardless.
Your need for advice doesn’t concern them,
nor your loss of sanity.
I guess you’re never too old
to find out
who your real friends are.