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3.7k · Mar 2018
Beat Me in Your Bentley
KieraYale Mar 2018
I must admit that I am bored.
Utterly bored, actually, with the overly romanticized construct of dominance.
How easily one can claim to be dominant.
Shocking? No.
We as human beings aspire to attain the intangible.
Exponential wealth. Immortality. Fame. Power.
We live in a world of illusion and fallacy.
We drive cars that we can’t afford,
often to jobs that we despise.
We attain validation through the media,
from blasé people that require it in return.
What I have found- and take this for what you will,
is that my longing for external dominance is simply a translation for
“By god please take control, and ground me to something real.”
839 · Oct 2022
Eye to Eye
KieraYale Oct 2022
I stopped writing
because I was happy.

The part of me that wanted to rip my heart from my chest
like the jaws of life just to watch it writher on the black top was gone.

Gone with it my desire to slash the caverns of my mind for some inspiration, bloodletting pain into something that could resonate with myself and maybe someone at Denny's at 4:15 a.m.

Yet like an addict I always seem to slither back to an old friend.
795 · Apr 2022
Dead Men Tell No Tales
KieraYale Apr 2022
when the smoke clears
and silence rings like static
Oh, shotgun in September
to my broken heart

crush my breath
like coal canary
Leave me gasping

red claws on your wrist
Was it truly her you kissed?
693 · Aug 2019
The Metro
KieraYale Aug 2019
They say love is wild
Wreckless and unforgiving
Graffiti tears from glassy eyes
Flickering florescent lies
But his words soothed
Like black coffee at midnight
670 · Jul 2018
Leaky Faucet
KieraYale Jul 2018

I try to keep my anxiety in a bucket
Some days I can empty the pale with cold and sluggish hands

Other days the thoughts trickle out and so I grab my mop put out my “caution” sign

But today there’s a flood
I have a teacup during Katrina
Not filled with Earl Grey

But I try anyways.
KieraYale Sep 2021
is that there has to be a top.
628 · Aug 2023
Native Island
KieraYale Aug 2023
Language drips from his tongue like honey,
skin kissed by the light of God.
609 · Apr 2017
Capitalism Marx Her
KieraYale Apr 2017
He will tell her to kneel
Like a cog in the wheel
Don't dare question or feel

Merely harness her thoughts
Simply bind them in knots
Her time has been bought
495 · Feb 2017
Snarled Teeth
KieraYale Feb 2017
I am the wolf of Wall Street
I am a woman  
My empire, my rules
You invested your heart
And I brokered it for another
471 · Oct 2017
KieraYale Oct 2017
Black craft paper in hand, you watch as the snowflakes land
Your kindergarten teacher explains that each one is "beautiful and unique"
But now as you look in the mirror you can see neither

When you were little you used to love to catch lightning bugs
You would watch them float in the Mason Jars, as the July air kissed your cheeks
But you don't notice the seasons anymore, do you?

For you, time passes unnoticeably
Lost between the coffee breaks and the heartaches
You push life aside
Until nothing
is really
462 · Feb 2023
Ripe Pear
KieraYale Feb 2023
Enjoy the fruits of your labor,
or the fruits shall become labor.
441 · Aug 2021
KieraYale Aug 2021
Life’s a game.
I am about to flip the table.
438 · Apr 2017
Just Take a Second And
KieraYale Apr 2017
For once in your godforsaken life, just be happy for someone else.
436 · Jul 2018
The Jungle
KieraYale Jul 2018
like the shoulder blades of a panther
my attention slowly rises and falls
you think you are special baby
but your name I can’t recall

you’re lost within the Amazon
away from everything you have ever known
as the rain fills the river violently
you're scared to be alone

the world doesn't seem so friendly
when surrounded by every language but your own
suddenly the things you loved the most
will shred you to the bone
380 · Feb 2017
A Lesson in Human Anatomy
KieraYale Feb 2017
I'd draw you in
Following the careful line of your jaw
Down your neck
Across your shoulder
Letting the memory mold the natural curvature of your body
Pressing my own subjective view of your ascendant gaze into the back of my mind

Oh, yes my dear I'd draw you
Just to watch you burn
346 · Jan 2017
Absence of Color
KieraYale Jan 2017
Whatever happened to “with liberty and justice for all”?

You say all lives matter, but you have never known when yours hasn’t

No, because you were born with an invisible knapsack full of privileges

While I was born with imperceptible shackles around my feet

And the system, praise the political system, because it has done you right

Because your self-worth, and your value in society was assigned to you at birth

But you claim you cannot see color,

And the truth is, I believe you

With your white schools, paid for by your white neighborhoods,

Embraced by your white government, sheltered by your white police force

How could you?

But I can see color.

For our jails are darker than the northern Atlantic sky,

While our government is lighter than the hoods slung up by the KKK,

We must embrace the permeation of a rigid political system

Segregation. Cannot. End. Without. Integration.
335 · Nov 2021
KieraYale Nov 2021
you're a sunbeam in a box
i am lost in summer equinox
taste like candy, look like gold
waiting on you to hold
332 · Jun 2019
KieraYale Jun 2019
write as if your heart
were your lungs at the summit
then gasp for air, breathe
299 · May 2021
Daddy Issues
KieraYale May 2021
Harley Quinn in Pop-Deco,
in padded rooms her nightmares echo.
298 · Sep 2017
Gravity Check
KieraYale Sep 2017
Tragedy is heavy
It rests upon a gradient of scraped knees and broken hearts
Only those with tenacity will ever see the light
294 · Nov 2021
KieraYale Nov 2021
gotta get my **** together
embrace the change like the weather
simply move on like a feather
but pain holds me as a tether
maybe i'm a boat docked forever
waiting sails up for the zephyr
288 · Oct 2017
Goat Fucking
KieraYale Oct 2017
My friend Billy stated unapologetically over earl grey tea and orange zest scones that the premise of his all-time favorite novel consisted of a man having *** with a goat.
With some resistance, and perhaps skepticism, I asked him, “Why?”
“Because the world would be incredibly ******* dull if we all just wrote about humans containing stardust.”
“Well, we are all technically…”
“I understand that. We are also full of water and feces, animated toilet bowls if you will, but I doubt that would flow exceptionally well from my calligraphy pen onto a textured piece of paper. Humans are often no more than a messy and selfish group of animals, governed by the illusion of creativity, law, and morality.”
“Is that why it was your favorite novel?”
“No, I liked it because it was ******* hysterical.”
285 · Dec 2020
Cirrhosis Hypnosis
KieraYale Dec 2020
Monsters under beds
that come upon night fall
oh, for ***** sake its the ethanol

awake at what cost
days turn over so slowly
no wonder they call this substance unholy
276 · May 2019
Your "Friends"
KieraYale May 2019
Those that doubt your will
Will stay fixed upon your failures
But pay them no mind

They needn't waste that too.
275 · Feb 24
Dear Daughter:
KieraYale Feb 24
I pray that you can stand at the edge of the ocean admiring the stars above, as if God himself strung them up just for you.

I pray that foreign lands and language flow through your blood so that you can feel all the pieces that you're composed of when you feel alone.

I pray that you only ever look down on those you are helping up, and that  you can lend light when the world only seems to offer darkness.

I hope you find happiness in life's oddities. May you fill our home with jars of tadpoles, feathers filled with germs, and wet puppy paw prints from a dog we "didn't want".

My little girl  I pray that you never know heartache that your Daddy can't fix, but most of all I pray that you find a love like the love that made you.
263 · Jul 2017
KieraYale Jul 2017
It was the color of the sheet covering his body,
And the pigment of my bloodless face

“He shot himself.”
The sentence laced through my body like static.

Soft palmed cops offered obligatory condolences
While contemplating tonight’s dinner options

It was the church walls as your mother cried in silence,
And the film of dust now covering the kitchen counters
But it wasn’t the color of the walls, was it?
KieraYale Feb 2017
Under translucent layers of coffee cup rings,
Aged cigarette butts
And wrinkled receipts
Sits our picture...

It isn’t in a frame,
Pristine and pure like my wedding dress,
It is drained of most of its color,
Stale as the air that surrounds your lungs
261 · Jul 2017
Pent Up, Pin Up
KieraYale Jul 2017
I’ll be your house wife,
Red heels, and dinner in the oven
Yes Sir, you will live the high life
We can create our very own coven
259 · Feb 2017
Repeating Patterns
KieraYale Feb 2017
You will take me places, places you wanted to go, but never could

You will explain why it is that we wish upon wishing wells,

And I will take it upon myself, to learn how to dance upon your two big left feet

You will check the closets at night for monsters

Monsters made of coat hangers and misplaced sweaters,

Then you will leave.

I will wait for you to come home by the front door,

Mommy will drag me away, but I will always return

Not understanding that your absence was permanent

(Like the scars on my wrists)

You won’t be there to catch me when I fall off my bike,

No instead I will scrape my knees, wipe the blood on my pants, and try again

Then he will come into my life,

And he will tell me he loves me like you never did,

And I will believe him, and he will take everything

(Like you did with your suitcase, and my heart)

And then one day I will meet the one,

And he won’t understand why it is that I am so ******* broken

He will try to show me the beauty in the world and in the stars

Not comprehending that I can’t get past these scars
257 · Feb 2017
KieraYale Feb 2017
I never understood how it was,
that poets could use words bigger than themselves.
256 · Aug 2019
Bedtime Story
KieraYale Aug 2019
Across the sea upon a foreign land
In a language you could not understand
A daughter asked a father
How much longer?

And with a weary grin fixed to his face
He told his love about the place
Where freedom sung
Like church bells
255 · Jan 2017
To the Boy in My Diner:
KieraYale Jan 2017
I asked him what he wanted
to drink, and there was silence.
I cleared my throat and tried to search for some recognition of my existence in his eyes.
Yet, to my displeasure they were glazed over and deserted of light…
except for the mute reflection of his Ipad screen.

Look Up! I wanted to shout, but simply stood smiling.

His (I can only assume to be...) brother, nudged him after what felt like an eternity.
“Jack!” His brother grunted and returned his attention to a text he was sending.

“Water.” The boy snarled in response, barely flickering his eyes away from the screen.
I returned with his drink and the boy said nothing.
I glanced at the seemingly perfect American family of four from a distance feeling sad.
Not for myself, but for that little boy.

He will never know the luxury of a completely uninterrupted and benign conversation over a family dinner;
He will only know the comfort of having a game at the tip of his fingers.

And he will never know what it feels like to be at a sleepover where they really did play games.
The kind that required patience and not always getting the monopoly piece you wanted.
**** that thimble.

He will never know the excitement of rushing home when the street lights came on.

Will he even know what running barefoot through the grass feels like?
Will he know the sadness of catching a lightning bug and having to let it go?

He will not know the comforts of reading a book with a flashlight underneath his covers while a thunderstorm passes.

He will never be able to write a girl a hand written letter
Knowing the way to her heart through the careful art of making words with beautiful loops, crossed T’s, and dotted I’s

Nor will he know the anxiety that emulates when hoping to receive one back.

No, he will never know the privileges of an extravagantly simplistic society.
255 · Jul 2017
Free Radical
KieraYale Jul 2017
I need stability,
and yet it bores me to death.
249 · Feb 2017
Slaughterhouse Blues
KieraYale Feb 2017
I wish someone- anyone would give a ****.
Just a curious soul that would appreciate my being, my poetry, or my photographs
Yet as I drain the last of the whiskey from my glass, I read the room with heavy eyes
Twelve. Twelve men are here, and three are staring back at me
All gawking at my body like hungry, brute, animals.
They do not care about my intellect, or my desires
They just want to wear me from the inside out
246 · Jan 2022
My Friend Winter
KieraYale Jan 2022
Is a *******
If seasons were people
He'd be Gregory House
Vicodin hungry
Volatile, Pins, and ******* Needles
235 · Dec 2019
The Fear of You in Harajuku
KieraYale Dec 2019
Have to confront her
People pass, smeared oil paintings
But oh there she is

Surrounded, but alone
The frenzy moves in catacomb
Public twilight zone
233 · May 2019
KieraYale May 2019
The word pierced my heart,
then pulsed into my mind like warm venom.
230 · Jul 2017
Duck Pajamas
KieraYale Jul 2017
When you were seven,
You had been conditioned to react to the closing of a door
Like Pavlov’s dog, your reaction was impulsive and assuming
Only it wasn’t Pavlov’s dog floating in the above ground pool
Behind existential and translucent eyes
A worn Louisville rested in your left palm
You sat behind that open door,
Begging him to close it with every fiber of your being.
228 · Jul 2020
Bad Hand
KieraYale Jul 2020
queen sized bed
I was just a joke
and you the king of lies.
KieraYale Mar 2021
as the tendrils of the night fog
slither around thick oak
bull frogs sing  and croak
when grey dove coo
the morning sun stretches
and fawn bed close to mother
all peckers begin their work early
with red robins following suit
today red fox trots to the river
as honey bees rouse beneath quick feet
226 · Jun 2022
Red Sky in Morning
KieraYale Jun 2022
i wondered once, upon the sea
in search of something beyond me
and in the storm i made my plea
please take me God, and set me free

but bow did rise against the wave
whistle of wind oh so grave
and storm of black she did brave
to new morn light the path she pave
226 · Oct 2017
Central Park Symphony
KieraYale Oct 2017
Music has the ability to strip us raw.
Regardless of color or creed we are connected through the crescendos that expose our shared vulnerabilities.
221 · Nov 2018
KieraYale Nov 2018
Our love isn't stardust
nor songs on repeat
oh no my dear,
our love is semisweet.

It is tired eyes
and messy hair
the screaming of obscenities
into the air without a care.

It is knowing
on days I am too much to bear
that you love me for who I am,
and you aren't going anywhere.
213 · Dec 2019
Meditation in Spain
KieraYale Dec 2019
Language ripples thought
Through soft Spanish undertones
By beryl waters
208 · Aug 2017
KieraYale Aug 2017
The frustrated poet runs his fingers through his hair,
then strikes the last word of his final verse in despair

Across town, a painter incinerates a wooden facade of a steeple
For the existential artist, hell is truly other people

But the sculptor who whittles his work with a knife
Is solely the one who values his life

For he understands that the process of creation,
Does not rest within pre-calculation
KieraYale Oct 2022
slow dancing against you
with the lazy waves against our feet
i feel so weightless
202 · Apr 2017
KieraYale Apr 2017
It was an esoteric statement,
Perhaps one only a beast could understand
202 · Mar 2017
As a Writer
KieraYale Mar 2017
I will own your soul.

Perhaps for just a moment...
As your right hand caresses the page
I will procure your consciousness
As the dishes in the sink rest
As the ceiling fan lethargically laces the room

I will make you feel unapologetically alive.
200 · Mar 2021
KieraYale Mar 2021
was "Broad Ripple burning"?
or am I insane?
wonder what life is like
without disdain
198 · Mar 2018
My New York
KieraYale Mar 2018
You're the jazz that melts around these tall tall buildings
Smooth as the smell of Château Margaux
Bold as the city lights that accentuate the night
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