bk: Favorites

Feb 2015 bk

J

Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.

^^^let us live through our poetry

Feb 2015 bk

fireproof

Feb 2015 bk

addy r

fireproof

It might hit you all at once, or a little by little. It’s best if the former happens, because feeling nothing is worse than feeling something.

It starts with a dull pain in the abdomen (science can’t explain this) and it intensifies once you have fully made sense of the situation.It is like a gas stove, with varying sizes of flames, big and small. It burns now, and you feel extreme discomfort throughout your torso.

You want to lie down, to tear your heart out and wash it thoroughly with iced water, because the fires burning inside of you are too hot to bear. But, once you do lay yourself down, the screaming starts, and your vision blurs. Hot tears escape your eyes and it doesn’t stop there. Pillows are thrown across the room and before you know it, your frail body is sprawled out on the floor in a mess of arms, legs, blood and more tears.

You’d think that staying the same way for the whole night is a good thing to do; lying on the bed you once shared with the cause of your torment is too torturous to bear. But, you’d tire of crying before long and eventually you’re fast asleep on the soft bed, under layers and layers of thick quilts.

However, when you awaken, the feelings start again, and you are unable to walk. You are on your bed for the whole day for what seems like eternity to you.

After a month or so of nightly wails, you’ll wake up one day feeling none of that *******. The fires will have been extinguished by then and everything will be fine.

You are fire-proof once more.

(lunarlullubies)

Feb 2015 bk

plan b

Feb 2015 bk

the white deer

plan b

"plan a" was to be cordial:
you said, "coexist."
we toasted with our cappuccinos,
"to coexisting," before replacing our masks.
smile. wave. be polite.
I suppose some dozen missteps by me rendered this plan
useless.

"plan b" is much harder.
put your hand on the table.
the knife comes down, quick,
press the hot metal to the wound.

amputate. cauterize.
use your friends as a tourniquet,
like the one I've been twisting you into for the last year
and a half.

#love #drama #relationship #*** #bye #plan #ugh #b #amputate #cauterize

Feb 2015 bk

inundation

Feb 2015 bk

the white deer

inundation

for the first time, I have my hands on your hips,
and if I were a betting man I'd say the third shot of gin
is who put them there.
I am staring at your lower lip,
and you're staring at my eyes, or something.
the part of my brain that hasn't been inundated by alcohol is begging me to stop,
but the rest of me is begging you to never let go once your cold hands find my burning neck.

#love #girl #god #alcohol #stupid #please #unrequited #begging #nope

Feb 2015 bk

ghost

Feb 2015 bk

s

ghost

i was staring
at the mirror
but see no
reflection.

i tried searching
for it as if
it was some
lost kid.

then i realized
its no mirror,
its your eyes
who cannot
see me
because for you,

i dont exist.

this is weird. I just tried putting my thoughts together so im sorry :(

#love #sad #ghost

Feb 2015 bk

ghost

Feb 2015 bk

kylie formella

ghost

please tell your ghost to stop following me
and whispering in my ears
that i was not good enough
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and calling me sweetheart
and putting his hands all over me
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and watching me while i cry
about how i miss you
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and laying in bed with me
keeping me from closing my eyes
please tell your ghost to stop following me
if i can't have you
then i don't want your
ghost

#poem #ghost

Feb 2015 bk

Untitled

Feb 2015 bk

bb

Untitled

So today you'll be in love this girl from the internet and tomorrow you be in love with that girl from the internet and today your mother will ask you to look up from your phone for two seconds and tomorrow you will be ******* over a girl that you can't that you can't look in the eye because her eyes are miles and away and they're always watching you with disinterest, until you lose interest; some Catholic girl told me that long distance relationships make it easy to fall I to son and I got to understanding why God stays so far away. I know how to ruin myself with one hand, I know how to tear you apart with two. I know how stop taking care of myself until I'm overgrown with weeds just to watch you grow; some idiot said you don't forget how to ride a bike so I got lazy and stopped using one and some idiot said you don't forget your first love and I did the same thing. I saw the train coming and I laid you down on the tracks like I cared, and I did but I just don't know how and that's how the deal, no one knows how to do anything, hardly anyone knows how to derail trains.
And today I'll fail my test becase I didn't study, tomorrow I'll remember that a year ago you said my name for the first time; today I'll sit on my hands until they tingle just to make sure that I'm alive; we'll delve into the meanings of 'love' and 'lust', but in the end they'll both still feel the same, I'll wonder if you track dirt into your house with your boots or if you just track hurt, you'll always keep me right where you can see you but never where I can hold you. We'll speak well about each other and keep our dark secrets tucked into the waistbands of our skirts like crisp white shirts. I can't understand why anyone would want to live in the first world, where all we do is keep things we love in dusty boxes and sit in traffic and hurt the people we love and write about it.
And then we'll leave the internet and grow up and be gray and our tweets will die out like people do and then we won't think about it much. We won't think about it much.