Within these wistful wonders,
A wave made to shatter the ledge.

Upon the edge I watch it crumble,
The wonders of time reduced to rubble.

In a paperless world,
The mind will never thrive.
So hold your imperial strive,
And anger our inken hive.

You can burn the book,
But the pages still survive.

It’s good to write of those
Who left you broken.

But I find it fulfilling
To write of those
Who still have yet to leave.
Maybe it’s my message
That they’ll receive.

the glimmering tides
glisten like December snow
in the faint moonlight

a short yet swift breeze
blows clouds of majestic surf
along salted rocks

the frigid air-strewn clouds
capture the faint radiance,
in each moonlit drop.

a thousand jellies
fly through soft luminescence
and for a moment

time is paralyzed

Penetrating the soul’s every layer
And spreading influence like
a dangerous pandemic.
You have ailed me with lovesickness
And none of my soul was spared.
Thank you for the emotions
That you brought me on these
Unceasingly fleeting days.

A sheer slate of industry,
broken by the melodic ridges.
Echoing the smallest whispers,
and dulling the mind's largest cries,
these walls defy all which seems sane.

Without color,
without shade.
Simple textures
resonate my cadence.

Standing strong and stagnant;
unrefined,
undefined.

I know I swear a lot,
And many think it’s ******.
Sure words have power,
But who gave them the power?

You.

And.

Me.

We gave words power,
And I gave them less power than you,
These words are ways to express myself;
Showing how things **** me off too,
Not words to used to destroy poetry.

I thank you for your time.

Through ashes and dust;
Pillars of rot and rust,
Accomplishments lie,
Untouched.

Seconds sail into minutes,
And minutes fly into years.
Within this corroded world,
Time is all of our material fears.

Why is it always others
That find requited love?

And why do I
Still enjoy listening to their boasting?

Nausea shot through a syringe,
Filling me with surreal senses.
I must not stop,
I must not shudder,
I will not pause,
I will not falter.
There is no place
For a burden,
No space
For dead weight.

I am not a burden,
So
“I feel fine.”

Sitting,
An article of stagnance,
With a heavily dusted window,
And a soul in heavy fragments.
Looking at you through the glass,
Wondering what has come to pass.
I’ve been here forever,
But nobody stays forever.
Now forever feels like home,
And I’ve turned up alone
After you vanished from my head
And filled my mind with lead.

Using System;

Namespace Poem
{
     Class Program
     {
          Main(string[] args)
          {
               Console.WriteLine(“1 or 0”);
               String dec = Console.ReadLine();

               bool life;

               if (desc == 1)
               {
                    life = true;
               }
               else
               {
                    life = false;
               }

               string msg = MADNESS(life);

               Console.WriteLine(msg);
               Console.ReadLine();
               life = !life;

               Console.WriteLine(life.ToString());
               Console.ReadLine();
          }

          Public Static String MADNESS(bool life)
          {
               bool suffering = false;

               if(life == true)
               {
                    suffering = !suffering;
                    return “madness ensues.”;
               }
               else
               {
                    suffering = false;
                    return “madness took over.”;
               }
          }
     }
}

I am a poet,
Who is only 16.
I am:
****** in speech,
Lacking a lot of street smart,
But in fact rather book smart.

A 16 year old boy,
Who watches cute anime,
Is incredibly weak to cute things,
Is buying an acoustic guitar...

And listens to metal music.
KORN, TOOL, Slipknot, and Disturbed
ICE NINE KILLS, shinedown, and Atreyu.
These wild bands help me get pumped up.

This is who I am, and will be
forever, if time allows
This is just me.
Another unknown poet.

You can do little to none
For a poet in distress.
Left to their own devices,
They’ll write their way out
Using beautiful words.

If you truly desire to help,
You can keep their inkwell full.

Do we really know
Where our soul shall go
After we decide to die,
And let our phantasm fly?

Or do we cry
After another futile try?
And do those who pass us by
Suffer through the same lie?

Do we really know
Where our soul shall go
After we decide to die,
And let our phantasm fly?

Or is our hurt cry
Another futile try?
Do those who pass us by
Suffer from the same lie?

All it takes is some time,
And things can happen.
I waited in my solitary state,
But eventually the raven came for me,
not a half a second too late.
It bore a letter,
A letter which filled a book.

START

FORCE STOP [PROGRAM]

END
//(read the notes)

I mean it’s a possible reason
For those years of a facade.

Feeling nothing;
No connection,
No emotion.

Just blank.
Only old morals
Kept me from
Arming myself
With intent to harm.

I lay in my bed,
In the aftermath of
That...

After a quick nap,
I wake only to find
Myself chained down,
Unable to move.

My sloth sin
Consumed me,
Leaving no active
Pieces untouched.

So I lay,
And I ponder
My wandering mind.

I think to myself
“If I lay here long enough,
Could I get laid?”
And
“If I sat in a puddle of
My own **** for long enough
Would my leg disintegrate?”
Both answers are probably no,
But...
You never ever could know.

If I posted a poem
Containing my feelings,
Would she see it?
Or would it be lost,
Like many other things,
In the silky sands of time?

Why do they smile back
When they know my grin
Does not make it to my eyes?

Is it to mock
My pained eyes,
Which shouldn’t exist?

Or because...
They don’t notice;
And never bothered to look?

A vast dark sea
Approaches overhead,
Like a distant diver.
The silent scenery
Swiftly slides
Into a world of noise.
Birds caw their warnings,
The wind rushes by,
Like a helicopter
Sitting too close for comfort.

As twinkling lights
Shine like starlight
Through a cold night,
I look for another calm
In this unruly tempest.

As my fears disappear,
Like a toothpick
Among the amber blades
Of fall-going beach grass,
I admire the excellence
Of the rain’s soft persistence.

It’s all a game of chess
you are just another pawn
We are all pawns, I digress.
Everybody is the same
Nobody is more special than the other
Not that anyone is special in this game
“The players don’t exist, mother.
There is no god, there is no satan”
A child will say this to their parent
This action was as useless as probation.
truth lain upon deaf ears, that is apparent.
We are all entrapped here, it is eternal
There is no cloud nine, it’s all infernal.

Why should I write?
Many reasons present themselves.

To not end my life,
Prove that I’m not good,
Release of emotion
To refrain from bleeding

But now,

I write to love
And show this love
To that unwatching eye.

Why does my fear overrun?
I just want to be honest
And end all the forsaken lies,
But, again, my mind screams and cries,
Looking for a way to hold
Our currently standing ties.

Why be such a coward
When people say
That I’m a fearless Leo,
A Lionlike leader
That fears none which precede her,
And will stand for her rights
As well as uphold her dignity
Across these eternal nights.

I am not a lion...
I am just Aidan.

I’ll do it in a poem bc this is a poetry website.

With each that comes along,
A timer is set upon them.
Why let the timer be?
When defusal is possible.

Why let the bomb explode
When just being friends is fun?

Living stagnant is painful
But losing to the timers
While time is stopped
Pains me more.

I have a question for you, A:
Why make me decide
Between two paths?

There’s always a third,
Right down the middle.

Little lamb, little lamb.
Run along little lamb.
Just try to remember that
life is a ******* sham.
It honestly is quite a shame,
how you continue to persist
and take part in their game.

The cards were marked from the start,
yet you still innocently play along,
getting ****** over by men with no heart.
In this story, You're the main part!
so go **** the men with souls of stone,
hone your weapon, make it your own,
and tear them apart, skin from bone.

When you gaze into
The darkness inside your soul,
It stares back in you.

Her face,
a moonlit visage
shone more light
upon my life;
upon my soul,
than the
solitary moon
ever could.

The ringing in my veins
courses through my aching body,
Like a rampant child;
Reckless and unrestrained.

It calls to me,
screaming for my attention,
to once again feel my ‘love;’
My dedication.

I can only deny such crawling advances,
And feel my yearning spirit cry.
Eventually I will break,
That will be the day I hide.

Dripping blood
Each and every
Blissfully painful day
Had many consequences.

No longer
Will my thumb sit
Without a sun kissed tint
And scars to glaze it.

No longer
Will I feel
That spiking pain
In my left wrist or thumb.

But...
Now...
Any wounds
On my left hand,
Or even that arm,
Close faster
Than ever.

Starting the journey
Is far harder than the trek.
Just as finding a reason
To leave my covers
Each draining morning,
I have to strive and strain
To find a reason to start
On this journey.

Silence.

Cold wind
Shaking shackles
In its violent breeze.

Voices chat
Of odds and ends,
Have their arguments
And make amends.

Silence once more
Not a voice heard
Over this uproar
Of silence galore.

Picked up and put down.
Thrown into the ground.
Suffering from pain and hate
My mind goes a blank white,
My blood is stubbornly irate.
The day holds less light,
And the night now controls,
Filling my heart with empty holes.

With my chin upon my hand
And my countenance bearing
An unintentional scowl of boredom,
I realize that my hand is beating
Just as my heart would.

I feel the pulsations
As my blood continues
With its rhythmical circulations.

To all those oppressors out there,
I say "**** you!"

I pray to all the masses:
Let the rabbits wear glasses,
let the pigs wear suits,
and let the accountants...
let them wear their favorite boots!

The cows can don their horns
and the sheep will wear their wool
while farmer brown scorns
the fool that wrought this chaos
into his farm stand kiosk.

I'm here,
at a table.

A white tablecloth,
holding a poster
sits in front of me.

This precarious
group
of four
finally finishes
a frustrating part.

A wave of
euphoria
swept over all

jumping up
I looked across
the white expanse
and noticed
something
new

She's right there
Who?
I didn't pay attention
beforehand

we lock eyes.
She suddenly becomes

e v e r y t h i n g

and I become

nothing...

What if the things I say
End up as too much?
And that line
Was long since breached.

It’s something I will regret,
But a something I can’t take back.
If words were really that easy to take back,
Why are there still wars.

All I can do is apologize
And hope that this game
Wasn’t rigged from the start.

Living a lie,
wanting to die.
Saying you're okay,
but you are breaking down;
hour by hour, day by day.

Suddenly,
swiftly,
and silently
swept out
into the sea
of your fruitless lie.

Now only you will ever know.
You reap what you sow.

Leave me and go,
so I can watch the gentle flow.
The words I've spoken
left my mind shattered; broken.

You said you'd come
and, yes, you came.
Now let my melodic drops of memory
silently evaporate, beyond the flame.

As slightly rusting walls collapse,
A pressure beyond worlds moves south.


Shards of dirt,
Shooting towards the ground;
Grains of rebar,
Dropping like bullets.
And flakes of snow,
Spiraling in their conceited madness.

Yet the sun still rises.
Cold frost against warm air;
A flickering blue behind the shadows,
And an unsullied white
When lying within the sunlight.

Do you know why
The sun has yet to fall?

Will you retry
When you are left to crawl?

Inside your eyes
A light shines down the hall.

Now look in mine,
You’ll find no light at all.


Are you to fly
When I fly from fear?

Hey, please don’t die
So just persevere

No, please don’t cry
I won’t leave you here.

Give life a try
‘Cause I hold you dear

The yearn for the bird;
Letting the wind lead the skies.
A life of fluctuating flows;
A life I despise.

With each strike of the hammer
Embers launch themselves out
From the source of such a clamor,
Seeking a space to seed doubt.

The seeds are forever sown,
But the farmers are soon neutralized
They never get to see their work grown,
They only started getting them unionized.

But each earthbound cooling spark
Is just a part of the movement’s progression.
The real movement is each hammer mark,
Created from each act of oppression.

As the weapon of war is finished,
An army rises, and an empire is diminished.

The rivers are never too deep,
The chasms never too wide.
My bones are made of sinking lead,
Yet I hold myself with this broken pride,
Knowing that I’m on over my head.

I’m under the torrent,
Swept in the current.
Falling through a chasm,
Seeing death’s phantasm.

Robbed of my money,
Robbed of my well being,
Robbed of my hatred towards pain,
Robbed of my sight; my moral compass.

They stole it all,
And left me with nothing.
Nothing but black and blue bruises,
As well as a few red cuts littered over my body.

I wanted it all back,
But how could I ever ask?
They are horrible people all around.
Unreasonable and unpredictable are the defining words.

As I moved on, with time,
I found none of it ever healed,
None of it. The may have cuts gone away...
Yet so does the wind, but we know that the air is still there.

And so are all these ******* memories,
That cloud over my friends like viscous tar.

Why couldn’t they have just left me alone?

I still don’t know,
but since then I have grown.
I am ready for these ***** to come once more.