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Curt A Rivard Sr Mar 2013
Today’s key stroke painted tale started a few short days ago
When his father found him on the bathroom floor and with no blood flow
Why are your lips blue and why is that belt again wrapped around your arm?
O’ My God son, look at what you now have really done
You just got out of jail days ago, I been all alone and it wasn’t fun
You promised me you would clean up and stop all that body harm
You’re gone now and with no return, who’s going to help me now run the farm?
An old street friend years ago, he was someone very well, I used to also know
I had to give up that life because I have a much better place I now want to go
Earlier today before I got done slowly processing you, my second ever autopsy case
I vowed to your father, he made me promise and say I would bring you back home safe
And to your brother I’d play all your favorite songs at the start on the ride back
You are now back in your town and inside the best ever made Funeral Parlor
I unzipped your bag so I could see you one last time; I was the last to ever see your face
I then put a letter in your hand so you can take it with you forever into space
Last night after I talked with your Dad and Lil’ J all about your stories
While sipping on Don Julio Tequila I also sniped and saved till today,
And in your other hand you also hold, a piece of the family cactus a rare peddled flower
Slated plan Monday morning is, I’m taking you to your next process
After that, because you were a surfer in CA. growing up as a kid, Lil’ J
Is flying back with your ashes in his arms and then strapping you down onto
Like a surfboard he's helping let you ride the waves in the Pacific Ocean
And that is what you will be doing forever and ever more,
As you always requested, your special never ending moving motion.

R.I.P M S, 2013

(SirCARSr. 3-23-13)
Drunk poet Jul 2016
She died a year ago,
But so pathetic I wasn’t around during,
Her funeral,
Air would have protested against my loud dirge,
There would have been series of enjambment
In the stanzas of my her elegy.

General Abas said she died in a ****** coup,
But she was too wise to be wiped out in a coup,
She was like untamed lion.

Mr George gave another account,
He said she died during an internal war,
The war against the truth,
She has been from truth,
Too blind to see reality,
Fast asleep to be woken up.

The family doctor said she was poisoned,
Poisoned with the truth,
The truth that kills rather to set free.

Inspector James said she was sniped
From a fair perimeter.
The mortuary attendant said they
Heared movement,
Guess she was just try to raise up.

Today I arrive with nothing to feed my eye,
A little bit nostalgic,
I had the feeling that I belong here but not to death,
So I left for the yard, at the backyard,
I couldn’t belive what I saw on her gravestone,
“Nigeria a country, not a nation”
Analise Quinn Jul 2016
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.

Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at  night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?

Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.

From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.

From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.

Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.

Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.

Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****"
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"  
by Dr. King.

When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd  wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"

But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
UltraViolent Aug 2017
A billion stars shining up in the sky
One shines brighter how could I deny

Your smile warmed my soul and heart
It sniped into my feelings just like a dart

When I saw you from the first sight
I just felt like hugging you tight

Something about you switched my mind
You're truly special and one of a kind

You're every reason, hope and dream I've had
You're the one I trust and talk to when am sad

You're the person that I truly admire
And the one that my heart really desires

Your voice is like music to my ears
It's the sound of hope that breaks my fears

Your person is what I love the most 
When the world was dull and I was lost

You were there to support my back
It was when I realised what I lack

It was the kindness that you showed me
That cleared my vision to be able to see
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
God smelled something foul
in the garden & thinking the
man had discovered manure,
god came down & found Adam
fast asleep w/ **** all over his face;
What have u been eating? shouted
the Lord, shaking the trees;
Adam awakened startled,
seeing god's fury:      have u eaten
         of the Tree of the Knowledge
                             of Good & Evil?
No! Lord, no!   cried Adam,
It was the woman!   she made
chocolate lava cake & I ate it,
whined the trembling
creature,        face to the ground in
fear & awe;                 god walking
away shaking his head & saying,
      put some clothes on, *******;
what are clothes? called Adam;
       god sitting down on a rock to
think things over was only mildly
      surprised when Eve, bare skin
      ethereal as summer rain came
  & sat beside him;           not exactly what u
                       had in mind, is he? she asked,
                   wrinkling her freckled pug nose;
nope, not at all, said god, but it's alright;
my kid's a carpenter; I'll get him down
here to patch things up;     Eve stood
abruptly to her feet,  heatedly wagging
pert ****** *****;          A carpenter!
she hollered; well, I hope he learned
carpentry in medical school, she sniped,
marching into the brush & returning w/
a bowl of fresh fruit: hungry? she said;
|        I could eat - - oh-**-o! so,
            u're the smart one!
What does it feel like?
My little sister asked
Fourteen
Beautiful
The innocent smile
Of a still naive child
Who’s never felt anything more
Than sweaty palms
In a big echoing gym
Forced to dance with an
Awkward eighth grade boy
For phys ed credit
And embarassment
What does love feel like?

Love is the awkward silences
The first time you hang out
And neither of you knowing what to say
Love is being best friends
Love is racing down back roads at night
Windows down
Music blaring
Slamming on the horn
And flashing headlights
And raising hell
Love is pulling an all nighter
To spend one last night together
Even though you have to work
At 5 am
Love is drinking Yoohoo together
Love is sending stupid videos
And care packages
Because his laughter
Is your favorite song
Love is his huge smile
He only shows you
After you tell one of your jokes
That no one else
Thinks are funny
Love is hugs
And smiles
And texts
And sniped photos
And late night phone calls
And life advice
Love is the tears
And the trust
And not wanting to be
With anyone else
Love is being impatient
Wanting to see him again
Before he even leaves
And love is knowing
Every time you’re staring at brake lights
That you’re too perfect to pass up
Probably

So I turn to my sister
Nineteen
Pretty
The watery smile
Of someone too young
To have been through so much
Who’s never known anything
Close to the perfection I seek
Only liars and cheaters
Who’ve left me broken
And empty
And I tell her
Love is
To "the one": Someday I'll have the guts to tell you what should have been said and the knowledge to know I've lost my chance
It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)

and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.

No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)

The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end

Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim

Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like  her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.

Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.

The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.

The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.

And Cassandra just disappeared.

No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."
Samuel Lombardo Jan 2015
For thirty-three years I have been
the person for the abuse, power, and
long-suffering coming from others.
For thirty-three years, I've been ****** up.
My love may have seem real, but
to others love was surreal to fantasy.
I am *******-
the trail of the inevitable battles
over my head-
from uncle to brothers to
an angry *** grandfather who
took my dignity in the grave with him.
Yet, this uncle still walks freely
through the doors and walkways,
and up and down hills-
I am *******.
What justice I seek- only
a hush for repentance
and forgiveness- but I been
through the gates of hell-
from entrance to another,
his tool goes wild, and I am
forced to kick the teeth out of
his mouth-
And when growing and showing up
to the faces of the universe,
I have lived the fear of rejection and hate-
all I have experienced was rejection and hate.
There is no one who understands-
the story of my life.
The assaults of ***, physical abuse, and
tyranny I have was the demon I want no more.

The guilt of my mind-
the obedience of such gross fantasies  
and the tears I share of lost
friendships have made an angry face.
But for thirty-three years nothing has
worked for me- there has to be a new path:
I had to seek repentance and forgiveness,
for hatred had to dispel from the love I
had for others.

This angry face had been exchanged
for a phat face-
the face of love, peace, and understanding;
it was the inspiration of a friend whom I
am now confused.
I am confused of dispelling love for hate
when I been living with fear.
Rejection and hate was my life-
and it became a demon in my life.
This person was drawn to my life to love me-
not love me physically,
but the love that shows my life
living in fantasy.
I was blamed to be a predator-
a reputation ruined by third party wanna-be's.
My fear was confirmed when rejection
called my name in the name of evil,
and hatred became what my friend used.
This was the person I never shared my
problems, because of his rejection.

Why was he a part of my life?
What brought us together?
I am not the **** in the closet-
I am the hetro living in the dark.
I had nowhere to go, and I
trusted that this could be discussed.
And here I thought I was weak.
I have been through so much
that it hurt me to see my best friend go.

I became angry faced-
the loss of friendship over
my actions, now blamed for
harassment and stalking when
I see surveillance in the eyes
of my life.
Why do I have to learn this lesson?
Who do I learn with?
Where is my understanding?
Why do they not understand?
I am none of the things the
universe declares me; and yet
no light they cannot see in me.
Why did you fake me?
Why do you block me of my
freedom to say my story?
What is your story?
What love do you have if
someone sniped me?

I changed my view on love,
because the hate I've been
misjudged on for thirty-three years.
This ******* society is so messed up;
I have to live according to a
controlling and confused society.
You are like the rest-
put an act on, in front of friends,
and then when trouble comes
or the annoying person is
around, your on your way
to the hermit station.
I do not understand you;
I was not able to find
peace within you; and
I am confused about your love.
In fact, the only confirmation
I got was when someone else
said I tricked them until a
business gig that was never paid.  
And when I was blamed for lying,
I knew you people only put me out.
The most hateful thing to do is to lie
about one thing to save your reputation
to ruin others.
The reality is that you place angry faces
on those you love, but do not
understand agape for your own fantasies
are stuck elsewhere.
I am still trying to put the pieces together,
but I do know where the missing pieces are-
they are connected to you-
Until you understand the agape love-
we will both be missing love and peace
for each other in disguised of hatred.
You only hide me to forget me,
but it is the Heavenly hosts who destined us.

I now seek spiritual guidance;
I need to forget you;
I need to understand why I should;
And while I wish you begin to
understand, I realize that this, too
only a fantasy.
I only ask that someone take away
this rejection and hatred from me.
I fear that I will not see my
friend, again-
but who wants someone in their
life who is not understanding,
always faking me in front of others
than hiding me inside a closet-
abusing power over love?
I only know rejection and pain,
who wants to introduce me to
the Happy Face?

It is music which I found you;
It was the creative mind-
when you turned to the left side,
your subconscious has taken away
the right brain empathy,
which was taken for me.

Only hope is what is left;
The hope for new
found agape love and peace.
Let me allow my story-
let me allow my understanding;
let me allow you to tell me.
This poem could be quite graphic,due to the intended message of abuse, obsession, assault, and the fact that I lost friends who gave me more pain.  The idea of this poem is to allow people the opportunity to feel free to express their situation, and to let others who been through this know that I am feeling their pain, too.
Your were there ...
In the worse of times.
Your were there in the very best.
You were there when I cried.
My head buried deep into your chest.
Th tears and whimpers and sighs...

And you were there when the sky fell.
The true love of a friend.
Even when I was in hell.
And you were there no matter how many times I died.
You never faltered to the end.
You picked me back up and made me stand.
The true love of a friend.

And it didn't matter how far or low I fell.
You didn't make me feel less of a man.
You were there to make me well.
The true love of a friend.

And when everyone else would pass judgement.
As plain as the eye could see.
The only two left standing. Was just you and only me.
You gave me strength and honor...
When no one gave me slack.
And sniped and back-stabbed and ridiculed...
Behind my hurting back.
You were there when I contemplated suicide.
And because of your love.... I'm still here..
I'm alive...
The true love of a friend.

Only cause you cared.
Only...
You were there.
The true love of a friend.
Kagey Sage Nov 2021
Learn to write again
learn to type right
first time in 3 decades of life

I want to write closer to when I think
speed time, to slow it
make it feel like I do more
like I was in my teens or early twenties
****, these days 3 go by and it feels like one

I count my blessings to build confidence
Life grows more cruel but
I might win if I act like already won
Chaos magick, nay we do not speak of it

You forgot to pretend
to suspend quests for rationality
No longer moved by a book or film
We conditioned to be unconditioned
only to realize we ought to been wistfully in the herd
the whole time  
We're the Bodhisattvas forestalling enlightenment
to get drunk with the butchers
after decades of sober high ground
We're the over-analyzers
lamenting our anachronisms in self-assuring
new philosophies
Either fully embrace one or drop out of being smart at all
the only tolerable choice to start to enjoy life again
No, no it's a false dichotomy
I want to be the eternal well-wisher
no matter the decadent displays

The shared dream of a soon to be future
We scavenge and defend
through pockmarked streets
make shelters amid crumbling concrete
We forgot how to imagine a secure society
Measured expectations and social safety nets
they took it all away along with our balanced serotonin
I used to get all jazzed up over a library book
but now the images promise us much more bliss
right around the corner

But it never soothes
never comes close  
We cannot buy the contentment you claimed to offer
so we'll get it in collapse
We'll be sniped, starved, and deranged
but the thought of that life
makes us whisper excitedly to ourselves
"finally something has happened to me."

I, the eternal well-wisher
will wag no more fingers at preachers of death
Neither will I become them nor pity them

— The End —