"You mean to tell me, a beast as monstrous as you, is capable of mercy," said the traveler.
"No, not mercy," said the wolf. “Gentleness, there is a difference. I will devour you tenderly.”
I was wandering about the forest when I came across an old traveler engaged in conversation with a rather large wolf. I caught only the the tail end of their discussion, however for some reason it stuck with me after I returned to my den. I thought I would share what I heard with all of you.
Not all depressed cut, Not all sad shed tears, Not all strong fight, Not all monsters roar, Not all young are innocent. Some just work harder to maintain a mask. We are here, And you have reason to fear, We are the best liars, We can manipulate the greatest con artist without batting a single eyelash. Watch out we are coming.
This is a dark and serious prom but that didn't change the fact that In was tempted to put "and we're *****" instead of " And you have reason to fear" ****
Now.... Out of season They're reddish Uniform in size & shape Firm And flavorless
In season They're RED All sizes and shapes Firm, soft, some just right And flavorful
Yesteryears They were magic Like the transformation of a caterpiller The little yellow flower Gives way to the tiny green marble Stalk n stems grow bigger Marbles grow larger The green fuzzy rough stems The scent That wonderful smell So unique to the tomato plant They turn green to red Some even get incubated on a sunny sill When it's time Knife reveals seeds and red splotched juice And the TASTE A taste that fades with our age That TASTE that we chase every summer Close But never a ringer
It hurts on the inside Hiccuping crying Screaming inside and wanting to outside Saying things we didn't mean But you never said sorry Only me It hurts like a stab wound left to rot The scar will stay of what you said Tears have gone dry So have my emotions Left drained and withered I have nothing to say Just a hurt on the inside. An endless pain That you are not sorry for Cause you meant everything
It's so bad in this place I have to leave I want to get to the good place Heaven on earth Is where I'm looking for The key of that place, is goodness I'm not a good man But I'm not a bad man either I try to better my life And I will go To the heaven on earth
Ahhh Mouth open as wide as his tooth gab. Ahhh Getting excited as the plane get closer.. Ahhh He grabs into it and waits for the next.. Mommy I’m full.... quick look away now it’s a bird Ahhhh Mouth open once more for the Landing.
If you know kids I always found that funny about them
Where's all the good stuff? Not all this love fluff. Let's get freaky. Let's get strange. Not all peaky. We need range. Get odd. Get peculiar. Be weird, it's cool. People don't mind. Be sad but interesting. Not just confessing. Be unique. Have some flavor. We all like some weird to savor. Express or Depress. Just be different. Don't hold back. Let it get weird.
Used to see a lot more weird on this site. All poetry is great. Even the fluff. But at midnight I just wish there was a little more weird. One can only read so many love poems, X is like Y and it makes me feel Zzzzzzz.
it’s a beautiful thing this day and age with bubbling permafrost with drug-resistance with obesity treatments with technological advancements with scientific discoveries with silent wars with blue lava with bleeding glaciers with divorce with sensitivity with my generation of people believing this new generation is completely and utterly clueless as a common occurrence
but let’s think about what these kids are into nowadays.
let’s think about who invented these inane things for the kids.
my generation of people.
so the kids of today are the ones who are ****** for liking the things that we’ve created?
I’m sorry but we have to be the ones who are obtuse for believing such things, oblivious for not realizing them and showing the world we have little or no imagination anymore.
the generation before us has lied to us and thought us to lie to the generation after.
whether it’s the gods or holidays or what not.
the youth of the today are autonomous. they can not take responsibility for their actions nor do they understand and just go along with the trends, much like, all the generations before them but we need a scapegoat to cover up our own farce implementations.
the truth of the matter is.. we’re all a little vacuous in our own way especially the ones with an answer for everything. living in an imperfect world where there’s always room for improvement nothing for us or against us wrapped up in our congratulatory self-contradictory and illogical theories and as useless as exploding appendix.
the lost generation the interbellum generation the silent generation the baby boomers generation x the millennials
a strong admixture of imbecility and self-assurance filled with belief and unawareness to a senseless world
like hate like blame like gossip like jealousy like being offended like being impressive like the punk rock dream like hospital waiting rooms like fundraisers and charity events like your co-worker to the right and the left of you and their families and their families before them
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
Onward we trudge to Miserthorpe. On blood soaked dreams to lend support. Knock-kneed, railing, gasping for breath We march through the marsh toward our death, But death will not out soul's escort.
The hordes of the undying court Will shortly rend our lives cut short. There is no hope; never the less... Onward we trudge
Oh, if the past I could abort I would have strived to build rapport With that young lass from Watercrest. My dreams of glory reassessed. Yet time moves on without distort. Onward we trudge
This is going to be a part of a collection of poems I call The ****** Journal. You see my friends and I play a lot of D&D, and we ran a campaign in my friends world where there's this area called the deadlands, and I wanted to tell the story of an unnamed solder having to fight against the evil there. Feel free to drop a critique, as I haven't done too much poetry where I am not the speaker. So this will be kindof new to me.
i dread the day you learn for the first time that you can't just love all the darkness in me away
and no matter how much you care i will still toss and turn at night and scars might still appear on my skin
i dread the day you realize that you can't cure me and sometimes all you can do is stand next to me and hold my hand through fog pouring out of my ears so black and thick we can't even see each other's faces
i dread the days i can't get out of bed the days you want to take me out and all i can manage is a prettified shell of myself
i dread the day you learn that sometimes no matter how hard i try i still can't pull myself together
the day you learn that there isn't an answer you can give that will save me from my fears
you aren't the first person who has tried to love the darkness inside away my family and friends have given it their all but someday you too will learn that if love could cure mental illness the world would be a much better place
I wasn't born With this hole in my heart But it developed gradually When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art. Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours! But just then, I was grayed and torn Just like withered flowers! The pain! Yes the pain Is unbearable My tears all are in vain They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable! I am fed up of emotional breakdown My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town! I know, sorrows are part of life But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife! I try my best to just forget and move on But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?
Just in a process of getting relieve from the feeling of being hurt! It's really difficult... Sorry,my poem sounded somewhat boring but I really meant what I said .
Paint me a picture Of your skin Does it bronze beneath the sun? Or sizzle and blush Like your cheeks When you’re in love? Is it soft to the touch Like when your palms graze The smooth surface of water? Or rough around the edges Like your favorite book And its lovingly worn corners? Does it melt in the heat Like sweet syrupy treats Dripping through your fingers? Or does it welcome the winter With wide open arms As if greeting a lover? Paint me a picture Of your skin
I know I won't get to all but ******, I'm gonna try thumb up to every comment up until the day I die
I can't react to every line and word but ****** I can try thumbs up to ever poet/poetess maybe no one has, to cry
I'm just a singularity but ****** all too **** we, as a community stand up, and hear the yell
I'm not you, and you're not me but when you see thumbs down chime in with words and thumbs chase the trolls, outta HP town
Thumbs down has no other purpose that to provide trolls with a mechanism to pester and put forth their hate. REMOVE it! You can't control how many accounts people have here (it's not realistic to assume you can) so remove their reason for creating them! Nothing really left to say :(
Thank you my friends for the daily, I feel undeserving, but extremely, appreciative! :) (bow)
If there was one word One word, isolated by itself That I cannot stand above all others It would have to be "Okay" I despise "Okay" "Okay" Is how your millionth day at work went "Okay" Is off-brand raisin bran "Okay" Is how you say school is going When you don't want to admit you spend Every second of it Wanting to die
"Okay" Is packed to the brim with Hidden implications Like a treasure chest Filled with bottles With little subliminal hatreds Written on tiny slips of paper Passively aggressively pushed inside To discover later As I pull out a treasure map And try to decipher Where I went wrong
"Okay" Is a one word dismissal That feels like an essay a thousand pages long "Okay" Is a poison dripping with disinterest When I dared to share with you Something I thought might make you smile "Okay" Is like trying to talk to a wall While watching the paint on it dry "Okay" Takes two seconds to write Yet I waited days For that dreaded word To grace my notifications "Okay" Should be used sparingly As if each time you send it You **** the receiver just a little bit "Okay" Should not be said so often that I know what you're about to say Like I saw it in a crystal ball "Okay" Is not looking up from your phone When I tell you about my day "Okay" Is not the proper response To "I love you"
They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred It's indifference And I can't think of a response More indifferent to pouring out My heart into your hands Than "Okay" At least the last thing you said to me Before we parted ways Showed that you cared At least a little bit "I hate you" Stung less Than the thousands of times Over our countless conversations You responded "Okay" Okay?