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Apr 11 · 48
Unspoken Words/ Insult
There once lived love on this beach.
From hilltop to ditch, it wrote under dwelling.
Raining softly tears of regret.

There once lived love in this era.
Coalescing swarms of butterflies.
Drones in a no-fly zone.

There once lived love in this edict.
To your tender I offer the world.
An empty mailbox, a disconnected phone.

There once lived love given by me.
Flames of passion, lustful winds.
A wooden universe.

There once was love stolen to the void.
Every thought, image and moment trapped in a cable.
Painted faces on a spotless canvas.

I can no longer see you.
The bridge that we shared has been detonated.
I can no longer find the source.
These eyes frightened to find you, appraise every second, a moment of complete dread.
Rushing water breaths deeply.
Grasping, grappling and groping at the foundation of a life unlived.
Of a world unseen.
Of a fight not had.
Of words of truth unspoken.
Cradle my bones that touch the sands surface.
Roost my dreams tightly bound.
Pitter-patter, the sounds of envy and jealousy.
Cold steel around your finger.
And pity the bird who called himself a snake and loved you more than a cohesive sentence could describe.
Mar 23 · 221
Boundless Plains of Grey
Coated white in a black hall, I sit.
Bonded into this macrocosm bleach.
We are in motion.
Bounding through rough terrain.

Knots of terror swell like sunspots ready to flare.
Carry on, until the day is through.
I sigh and dedicate the universe to solve an insignificant issue.
A thankless job, I'm sure.

The seconds move outward as I muddle forward.
The price of gas is increasing.
Watch, my friend is melding into a tonalist canvas.
I guess he can make a family now.

Greet, Handshake, Impression, Tone, Work, Enjoy, Laugh, Graceful exit.
Calibrate, vice, heat, bend, join, twist, paint.
Right, Left, Stagger, Fall, Crawl, Crouch, Right, Left.
Grieve for the piece of your soul you left with her.

In the end, here I am.
Most people seem to like me.
And I ***** my next relationship.
How can it elevate my position?
How can I use this experience to defend myself.
How far will I see this out?
I wonder if Latisha will come back.

And I meander through the underbrush of my empty field.
This grey nothingness.
As everyone else slowly leaves me behind to pursue their friends.
And I press on forward, even if alone.
To the font of knowledge to repair my broken heart.
Mar 2021 · 112
Why I avoid latest
I can see why people avoid the latest tab
As it seems to be ******* about life.
And political or religious hatred.
You'd think 2.5 million dead people would make their hearts heavy with self-reflection

but it seems not thusly so.
Just my thoughts.
To where do those memories go?
My and your soft lips meeting.
Exchanging values and ideas.
But like a conversation gone bad, you had no place in it.
A genius walks a lonely path.

Did our parents really ever "get" us?
Or were they just unfit to even bear the name.
Scoldings, put downs and assaults.
And the result is a childhood of treachery and miscommunication.
A genius walks a thorny path.

Where does a broken child learn they are special?
Feelings of inferiority build architectural grand designs of mental illness and rotting relationships.
And who really survives growing up?
Except me.
A genius rejects adulthood to walk as a child.

Why do the divine watch us?
Is it to see us suffer? To overcome the pangs of suffering and torments?
Is it truly a godlike quality to forgive? When will that be me being taken advantage of?
I know when.
A genius gathers no moss.

Will death come? Am I to respect such a thing?
Why would his hand touch so closely my throat, my brain and my heart.
Are the dreams messages containing factual information? Guides on life?
No, they teach us what we should be to death.
A genius bows his head to the dead.

What is the emptiness and fullness meant to be?
Will full people live on. Scraping by on whatever happiness chance chooses to make them aware of?
Will empty people believe all belief and concept is empty? A form of solipsistic ignorance of both destiny and loved ones.
To become full and empty.
A genius lives to burn, burn out and be brought back to life again.

What is a genius? From the brain of a genius? Eyes that can see through fraud and deception. Including ones own.
Yeah, I mean. Its decent
From where did I come from?
From whence did I arrive.
Was I 3, 4, 5, or 6 when my eyes could see things weren't alright.
Did the earth put me here to brings peace?
Does the bird think about its past nest.
Will the sea rise.
The sun explode.
And to where do I put my parents to rest?
Will I regale my children with tales of valor?
Will I curse their existence.
Do I deserve to be alive right now?

The bird does not let its past nest hold it down.
The sea will find a home somewhere else.
And I will be, just here. Breathing deeply, to make sure I'm still alive.
I dunno. Word salad.
Mar 2021 · 366
Sometimes the wind blows past my face.
And I ask myself "How come my dress won't fit me?"

Sometimes the bath water is cool.
And I ask myself "When will my job get easier?"

Sometimes I destroy old pictures.
And I ask myself "Will my brother be able to handle his responsibility?"

Sometimes lights scatter on my slender figure.
And I tell myself "I think I should draw now."

Sometimes people say things about being a happy person.
And I prepare myself "Work starts early tomorrow, I'll go earlier."

Sometimes I need to feel something.
And I state facts myself "That driver is a terrible driver, but I'm a good driver"

Sometimes the drugs i do make people ashamed to know me.
And I whisper to myself "Everyone around me is so stupid."

Sometimes people take advantage of my kind nature.
And I scream at myself "Ugh! Why is work so unbelievably inefficient."

Sometimes I remember I came from a broken home.
And my lungs burn with ash "But I'm trying to quit."

Sometimes I hide my darkest secrets of people who betrayed me.
And I wail at the ceiling "God this night is fun!"

Sometimes I dream about a life where I'm happy.
And I tell myself from the bottom of my heart "I'm happy to be who I am."

Sometimes I think about ending my life.
And I tell my friends "I need time and space to get better."

Sometimes I cry for no reason.
And my heart speaks to me "It'll pass."

Sometimes I remember my heart has been frozen for  decade.
And I pridefully spout "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sometimes my nightmares give me anxiety attacks.
And I think "I need a warm shower to relax."

But tomorrow, after the dreams I can't handle have passed.
I'll forget a few more sad thing I've had done to me and have done to others.
And I'll echo the words of others to show them how stupid they are.
My heart will remain frozen to keep the few things I like about myself. Forget, forget, forget the memories that caused me so much pain. It's my only choice. Love, hate, pain, all of it has to go.
Sometimes I think I'm broken.
And I have been broken many times.
And know he should have picked me.
Because I'm better.

Because I can control myself.
Just my interpretation of a loved ones struggle. It's difficult when I'm not working with all the available information and a treacherous wound of betrayal but. In truth, I can find solace.
I am not a brave man.

I am the face in a crowd that hides in plain sight.
An angel with baggage that keeps me from flying.
A heart so wounded, no kiss could ever heal it.
A body that refuses to say "I'm okay."

I am not a wise man.

My mistakes have cut both ways.
I have brought the world against me and my loved ones.
Always, my enemies are pushing me away.
Be gentle, you press on my wounded heart.

I lose things.

Friends I will never gain back.
Skills I could never perform without trembling.
Enemies who's insults won't be forgiven.
Words that refuse to say I love you.

I did my best.

My ignorance was turned to sunshine.
The anxiety has closed its eyes to the world at large.
I forgave my first love who moved on from my embrace.
My tears were clear enough to reveal affection from my hate.
Dec 2020 · 350
Riddles a stupid name.
****** words paint the flowers a crimson red.
A dove recites the end of all mankind.
Rounding out his edges and sharpening his knives.
Amorous lovers ride the wave of life.
Heart worms my body still tries to burn away.

Kindly, I delude god and myself into a dream.
Every mindless prayer, my secrets scream.
And only my love remains.
To this day, he accepts the woman he lost.
Opals eyes that cry remorse.
No reply.

I can live without the friends I knew.

And each and every missing piece.
Morose taxidermist lives her dreams.

Sullen chords play the lonely song.
And I tell myself that I am strong.
Do the roses in your garden look pretty?
To the one who's happy. Even if I'm not.
Man was made in our image.
With innocent eyes that sought lights embrace.
And nestled in the arms of darkness.
An empty abyss who couldn't help but stare back.

Man cried till he was content.
And his heart did grow through the suffering.
And he came to know happiness as well as sadness.
But his eyes, they spoke with love.

Man walked his path under a forceful guidance.
And he remained ignorant to the suffering of his bearers.
Fighting ensued as man found comfort under the many stars.
In the field, he fought alone against the sun and the moon, and he lost.

Rage begat man as he learned togetherness and separation.
The beautiful flowers flourished, and he felt himself no more than a lone dried ****.
So, he cut those flowers and boiled them to see how they taste.
Now, only a desert remained as man boiled each oasis.

Man ate and hunted every animal.
He used the streets built by others and ate the meals he begged for.
This lone warrior stared back into the abyss and saw light within himself.
The strongest man he knew was his darkness alone, and so fought him and lost again.

Man could no longer force his guidance on the world so for the first time, his angry heart steadied and he listened.
And man looked back to the loved ones who perished behind him and cried till he was content.
He slowly memorized each grain of dust that made up every little thing. Starting over again and again.
Eventually, his heart strengthened and pulled him to the shores of Nibana. And he was alone. And he was satisfied.

On this day, man closed his eyes and writ this poem.
A poem made only with his heart that he could never have envisioned with his meager skill.
But his heart that knew darkness, its light is refined and built up a little each day.
And his rest is well-deserved.

Even if the reason he's alive, is safe and satisfied with another man. For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.
Just a story I thought of when I thought of a girl named Latisha. My work is continuing well. As always, my choices are my own. Even if they seem a bit odd.
The sun rose out among verdant still hills.
High peaks, forests and earth stole their eyes away from this charade.
Strands of light refuse to illuminate me.
As the the play proceeds with divine authority.

Each bird is standing on its feet and spreading its wings.
Tigers brandish guns at their young, unaware of the anguish hungrily stalking behind.
And the men with hearts of black gold walk away with their heads down.
As we are all eaten away by ignorance.

The hands of fate stitch together a torn garment of time.
Embroidering its history of suffering.
But the answer to your questions won't be found in gods clothes.
There's a lot more suffocating water in this ocean than treasure.

But your heart withstood the weight of it all.
And its callouses grew over their shadows left behind.
But when it beats, I can still hear the screams
Of your abandonment.
Who knows. Probably just tryna write fancy.
Nov 2019 · 232
Staying Alive
It's a cliche to stare from the window, but I do.
Slipping through time without thinking.
The flowers are indulging the ground with life.

I am not so candid as to tell you why.
Voices ruminate outside my prison.
I wouldn't be so sad if this was the end.

I'm not calling to say I love you or I've moved on.
But that when the knife in my heart twists.
The pain doesn't really move me as it used to.

I might give up, I might give in.
But the calls from another world, they beckon me to"Keep smiling".
Perhaps I never should have reached out.

So here I write and release to the world.
So that the death grip on my soul will be just released a little.
As this poem has seemed to do.

I realize this isn't the ideal scenario, being so torn up about nothing it doesn't reflect on me quite well. But time will march on without me. And the stars will reflect our pie in the sky hopes and dreams. And the knife will stay in my heart to remind me of you and your betrayal all those years ago. And the poison will reach the earth I walk on. And all those nice kind loving things you say, the beauty of it all will one day be lost on me. But for today, thank you for reminding me that I can resist the pain that's meant to make me human. Until the dawn comes, I beg you to sleep. And not look at my face.

Please, don't see my tears. They are only per-cursors to that knife being twisted again. And yet, part of me desires it be twisted again so that I may see just how long it will take before I destroy this thing called "Friendship."
It is as it is written. Irritating to write it in tho, poems really shouldn't be written selfishly. It's just an experiment.
I had faith in your shame.
I had faith that you would not come back.
At the very least, when you broke my heart forever.
I believed that not love, but shame would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your violence.
I had faith that you could not apologize.
At the very least, when you hurled your abuse at my fragile ego.
I believed that not love, but the violence of your judgment would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your love.
I had faith that you would not ever confront me.
At the very least, when you choose him over me.
I believed not in your courage, but your love for him that would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your pain.
I had faith that you would try to talk to me.
At the very least, when I destroyed your heart for another.
I believed not in your pride, but the pain you continue to feel would scare you away from me forever.

I had faith in your fear.
I had faith that you would erase every trace of your existence.
At the very least, when you saw my months of mental anguish at your absence in those letters.
I believed not in your good judgment, but your fear of my "instability" that would close the book on you forever.

I had faith in your cheating.
I had faith that you would absolve yourself of all responsibility.
At the very least, when you eloped with your husband.
I believed not in your vows to each other, but avoiding a difficult conversation with me would let you be silent forever.

I had faith in your respect.
I had faith that you would believe in me to find someone better?
At the very least, when I told you we shouldn't be together.
I believed not in your tears, but your belief that I would do better would keep you from ever speaking another word.

I had faith in your insecurity.
I had faith that when you found out it was your fault, that was it.
At the very least, when you cried and cried after it was all over.
I believed that you felt you had to go. Knowing, that you could never return to what we had. After you broke it.

I have faith in my letters.
I have faith that you will never talk to me again.
At the very least, when you saw them you did not stir from your place far away from me.
I believed that my words would rouse the truth of why you left. Your silence only confirms that my faith was well placed.
I don't have faith in goodbye because I've never said it. I'm not so dramatic as to abandon or betray the one he loves like all these people have done to me. I understand why it happens, and I hate it but goodbye is not why these people are gone.
This isn't a poem that I could write easily.

It is but a reply to a kind girl I cherish. That I hope she never reads.

On awful days like this I think of you, though I shouldn't.
The spiteful guy who knows you betrayed him.
Should the book of life be written, I would argue it's pages to say you betrayed me.
Lo, the poison spreads.

I can't help that you are human.
That you were broken over and over again by your abusers.
And hate these arms of mine for being one of them.
Lo, the toxin wears.

I am a tired man who curses those to whom he protects.
When you smiled at me, I felt truly alive!
I have gone too long without that smile. It is kept from me and these loving eyes.

Because these eyes are killers eyes.
This heart, will rise again.
And my soul will corrupt.
The price I pay for being a big fat liar.

And the pain I feel for loving someone for whom it is impossible to love. One disgusting hopeless narcissist to another.

---------Thoughtful Strangers letter---------

If we meet, I'd like to watch the sunset with you. And call you a pathetic woman with no talent whatsoever at finding happiness. And a ***** who is so predictable, I could tell her future looking into dog **** rather than a crystal ball. That I actually wanted you to save me from the disgusting people I called family. And that unlike you, I was enlightened to understand just why I have to think through everything in front of me. I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't do drugs like you because I don't have the luxury of serving my own purpose of self-satisfaction because this body won't let me. That you broke my heart when these, my only pair of eyes made you feel afraid when I looked at you in my most loving gaze.

Now I look into the mirror and see something disgusting that truly should not exist. So before I die, never feeling the touch of one who loves me. I hope you suffer. Just like I always knew you would and wanted you to. I hope you die ******. That horrible future I see is a lot kinder than the hell I've been confined too. Trapped like a cockroach. With a beautiful heart that poisons everything it touches. And hurts every time it remembers that he has no friends.

I can only hope it's easier not to care.
It always seemed counter intuitive to me. Why release my inner thoughts to the world, why seek people to read it when I don't want anyone to ever talk about it? The answer is sucky. It's because I believe there is a god who will answer my prayers to make this all go away. And I hope someone, anyone will want to be friends with me after reading this trash.
Aug 2019 · 297
Something about you
Make way for the bees.
There's too much to say.
Love once and forever.
Bleed out the day.

More happy than sense.
The future divide.
Between a man and his friends.
For him and his bride.

Low cost, low manage.
And family safe.
Party and make merry.
For our new home today.

Couples of fame.
Lovers of vice.
Homes that were broken, parents that fight.

But no bad ending and no fallout.
No lovers spat, no bad flake out.
It could be true love or it could not be.
But I've been left here for an eternity.

And so, she pervades and steals my friends.
And my disgust to her attends.
Blame me, or their crossed stars above.
But I blame the forgetful feeling known as love.
Not too bad. Not too BAD. Another rhymy one. if you like it, cool. If not, well sorry it isn't better.
Aug 2019 · 240
Worth his bread
Little words.
Crowded breaths.
See my hair?
Stoke the fire.
Rest the eyes.
Take the cake.
Eat it twice.
Lord the night.
Drown the years.
Forever more.
Forever near.
No trifle here.
But peace become.
Sat on here.
On our thumbs
Not much to say,
Not much to do.
Tv's how he spends his too.
Work to ends.
Lifes a trough.
Drink the *****.
Kids can sleep.
Dogs can lie.
Set the table.
Dress to style.
Out we go,
Once again.
To find a man,
Worth his bread.
I'm not sure about this but, I like it. I hope you do to. Made in a style like an awkward person who liked a different poem.
To be a man, is to face your fears everyday.
Carry this meat suit in a dignified fashion.
Question life and its maelstrom of sorrow.
Forgive the failures of others.

To be a man, is to protect your friends.
Hide your disgust at others happiness.
Move unnoticed through a crowd of people who struggle everyday.
Find, laugh and be merry with your best friends.

To be a man, is to know thine enemy.
Prepare for your future trials by training the body.
Always mistrust the ones you love.
Pretend to feel empathy and recognize their true intentions.

To be a man, is to control your violent impulses.
Never acknowledge the visions of killing that you see.
Hold back the feeling of tears when spoken kindly to.
Never help the destitute.

And when I stop being a man.
And the facade finally breaks.
And the families who stabbed me in the back, come for more.
And when everyone has quietly left me.
And I am now the destitute.
I cradle my body.
And tremble alone.
A poem I thought up. Very harsh, but very easy to relate to imo. Hope you enjoy it, though I wouldn't.
Mar 2019 · 423
Loves other half
I see you happy.
Flowers smile at the sight of a woman and her child.
God is proud of his world, as the angels smile.
I brace my chest and growl the pain away.

I see you eager.
Infecting others with a desire to please.
Breeze, the love you spread fills minds with ease.
I ball up my fists and dig my own nails into my hands.

I see you care.
The smile you give, the hand you extend. I could never repay such kindness again.
Forever I am lost, lost and in love. With a taken woman.
My scowl answers your extended hand.

I see you go.
And I tear every memory of you from my heart, and write it into a poem.
Mar 2019 · 412
Avoidable Tragedy
I wrote a letter to you once and asked you if you loved me.
I forged a letter that said I'd love you to the end.
Grassy beaches and giving trees.
A mourner crying on his knees.
To the wife who told him "I do."

Faster than a moving train, unpredictable like the acid rain.
A tragedy I knew would come, but I prayed.
I prayed.
I prayed for it to hit me swift. A gentle nudge off a cliff.
But before I fell and broke my heart.
I prayed, to be loved.
A short simple poem of a tragedy.
Mar 2019 · 331
Sound of a dream
Screams echo madly.

To my silly little dream.

Falling teeth and eating phones.

I put the snooze on a hold.

Betraying all my friends tonight.

This dream will never be alive.

So dance madly and chaotic.

Dreams that last like a narcotic.

The caricature of a me.

Drowning and crying in the sea.

Playing soccer on the field.

Former lovers leave concealed.

From your smile to a frown.

The last breath before you drown.

But I see that everything.

Merely a silly little dream.

Crying tears, abundant tears.

As I wake up from my dream.

And feel my heart crunch.
Attempting to write in a similar style of
The truth behind a photograph BY CommonStory
Mar 2019 · 281
We never really did ask for you,
Souped up cars and ****** up avenues.
Shivers down your spine, over fined for the damage done.
Pay up. The greater good needs your wallet son.

******* parkour, running in the streets off,
The roundabout where a couple broke each others lease on,
Life. There ain't no harder calmer man who's fighting.
The parents he believed in, smoked out the lighting.

How could there ever live a guy who's fighting for the personal right to call himself his family that's split across the world.
Divided, the house cannot stand.
Invited to the worldwide plan to forget, integrate and live inside a computer world.

Nevermore to care, the raven leaves the planet earth to find a people who can feel for something other than themselves.
Singing little nightingale, posted in a video warns users, but his language of the heart doesn't sell.

Candid, Sanded and machined to a polish.
Words spread like a bacteria.
Your dearly sad.
I couldn't help but notice the monster I created. Monster see, Monster do. Promise you a monster too.

Snowy hills and lonely peaks, to 7 every day of the week.
It's cold to you. It's hard to you.
**** a little animal too relieve yourself.
Believe yourself, it should evolve to defend itself.

Softer hearts grow distant.
My parents wonder where I am?
I'm well enough, without a friend.
Better to observe than pretend. To be anything but what I am.
Confused about where I am.

You couldn't see beyond the brush.
For­get that we ever said I love you.
Little more of a weird poem. Just here for anyone to see and understand.
Mar 2019 · 203
I made all these paper constructs for you.
To see when the rain,
Would soak through and make me wet.

The ground is low, for today.
He's feeling pretty glum,
I think he's got a fever.

When life comes to make you unhappy,
Just write you dearest wish,
Into a little jar.

Come here close and listen to me.
Secrets lie under a giving tree.
I cry when I sleep.

Snowmen play.
Roses whine.
The days are too short,
My sweet pumpkin pie.

No one did ask me what I had thought.
But I think,
My showers nice.

I play the radio real low,
To contemplate,
The Syrian war.

Here's the truth,
Don't ask me twice.
It's embarrassing, to tell you something nice.
My first loves a *****.

It's not very nice, to hate your friends.
Winter dies and summer ends.
Would your teacher ask you for a smoke?
Light it up like the burning sun.

Nervous tics and Irish bells.
Awkward laughs and dating sells.
Where did we meet? Don't ask me why.
I found you in the park underneath the sky.

Daisies past and a wondering breeze.
You have no idea what you mean to me.
Staring deeply into my eyes.
-Who are you again?

Multi-platform shoes walk again into,
Rivers flowing memories of you.
No one sees where the rainbow ends.
They told me don't ever be more then friends.

Candid words, wondering why.
This suit went well with a purple tie.
Council calls,
Deeper wells.
Have you seen my fat?
Raw emotion makes the weirdest poems
Feb 2019 · 372
To the you watches
Nevermore will the sun set on the day.
Dreamy blue skies smile, unveil and show mans dreams.
As your wafty blond hair lay woven between my fingers.

Sweetest god gifted to me, temptation.
I trust in the you that watches me.
Golden gates, your smile greets the world.

Knife edges, wounds and scars disappear.
The me that watches you is lost in those eyes.
Lay across the ground. Stare up into those broken dreams.

As the ground falls away, let me catch you heart and soul.
Nevermore to drown alone.
God kisses your sullen cheek, as the you that watches weeps.
Love, could I ever really compete? To the you who watches.
I will smile through each hardship, just so you can too.
It is actually embarrassing to write like this.
Nov 2018 · 345
My Cruel Truth of Self
To you, the one who is useless at everything.
To you, the one who is weak in front of everyone.
To you, the one who is despicable.
To you, the one who has no true friends.
To you, the one who is truly unique.

You will lose and you will fail over and over again.
You were not born with the things others have.
You will need to obtain them with your own hands.
And even when you do, even when you've struggled pathetically.
You will still be, just you.
It's not about insecurity. It's just, a feeling of being strong.
Aug 2018 · 4.1k
Silly Moon
You never knew how much I loved you.
Sitting on a tree.
Minding the stump.
I was afraid you might fall!

Burlesque minds make fun of you.
Call me an idiot too. I think.
But every time I hear the screams,
I just can't get over that you'd tell me to delete you!

Since when was a man measured by the viscosity of his morals.
To invest online my heart.
But the world told me too, I never had a choice. Because the world decides whether I'm fated to invest in your company. But where would it end? Easy, the world cuts off your existence like a hot knife through crying butter. Could a fate ever be so cruel as mans resistance to the reproachful sickening thud of two people never being able to feel deeply about each other again? But the world doesn't tell the moon what to do. She sits there, waiting patiently for someone to come **** her.  She's come to understand that life without a heartbeat is not a life worth living. because everyone who came into the world, our moon included gave their heart to someone. The world told her too. So what if its painful? So what if it's pitiful? Everyone does it so it must be correct, truly. Those words. I love you. Just having you by my side keeps me from hating myself a little. I like the pain of being with you. I don't ever want to leave this place, it's lovely. No one ever liked me before I met you. Touch me harder, rub me harder. I will achieve your dreams with you. I don't like to see you sad. My heart has been connected to you since the day we met. I like guys with long hair. I like girls with a nice ***. I'd give up the world for you. Now you know that I like you. Don't ever think you are alone. Even if he doesn't like you, I like you, I love you. When we become ghosts, we can be together forever. You're my hero. Don't ever leave me. You're my purpose for living. We don't have to be rich, we're happy together. It's not that I like you! I just wanted to help you. You're the only one who understands me. My reason for being is you. I've always loved you. You're the only scream I like. Don't ever make me cry, I couldn't stand it if you made me cry. We can stay in heaven together honey. I'll stop whoever makes you sad. Please come back tonight, I miss you. My heart can't take anyone else, just stay with me. We'll be the best of partners! No one could ever touch me like you do. I had a really good time, I mean that. I cherish the world for bringing me you. I will marry you. He could never hold a candle to you. You've ruined me for all other men. I can't be with anyone as long as they're not you. Keep me in your heart forever. We'll get married when we grow up.  I will love you, so don't ever say such miserable things, you're running away. Please don't delete me, I love you. I'll be here forever.

But the world just kept on moving.
It never stopped to tell the moon those words she wanted to hear.
That it was sorry.
The responsibility was just too much.
Just trying out this style of writing, pretty cool
Aug 2018 · 1.5k
Blanket Darling
I put her to sleep every morning with the birds.
My little blanket darling.
She sleeps while I brave the worlds agony.
My sweet blanket darling.
One day, her eyes told me stories of solitude.
She never actually slept while I was away.
Her eyes showed fatigue and weary.
My poor blanket darling.

Now she's laughing away the responsibility of her promise.
My little blanket darling ran away.
Our hearts are frozen in time from the moment.
My blanket darling lives on in my dreams forever.
While her body lay in the mental institution.
I  lay her away.
As I steadily go insane.
Eh, it is what it is
Glades and Creeks.

One day in a journey far far away,  the forest was speaking to a lone wanderer.
"I am quite the clean forest, am I not?." The forest whispered soothingly.
"Mmhm." Spoke the wanderer, passive by such an interjection.
"Of course. Thousands of forests have wilted and died under the hand of man. I remain lush and brimming to the birch with life."
"Where is my way out of here?" The wanderer asked, becoming quite needy at the thought of having to spend the night in that dung-infested greenhouse.

The forests name was Evergreen. Allot of forests were named Evergreen. This forest had just been sold cheaply to a large logging firm who would come and tear the ugly trees down. The proprietors of that sale was a tribe of Indians. The specific agent who devised and contracted the sale was named Nahiko. An Indian tribesmen who, like his ancestors could speak to the forest.

Indians were what Europeans called people from India and natives of America. Allot of Indians in America were killed for being Indian. When an Indian boy came of age, they would be thrown into a jungle and starve until they saw an animal spirit. This was probably prelude to eating said spirit animal while thanking it for helping him live on.

"I, Evergreen implore you to stay within my womb of plant and fauna."
"Hm." replied the wanderer. Not wanting to argue.
The wanderer took a seat beside a flowing creek on a rock. The creek lead up to waterfall, which in turn lead through a river that spanned for miles. The river did not speak as it was an extension of the forest, Evergreen. Down the creek was the old homes of the Indian tribe.
"Have you ever saved someone else?" The wanderer asked.
"My yes, of course. Everyone who is to enter without water or food is rescued by my charming animals! And luxurious streams. I am quite hospitable you see. There was a tribe who lived within me, they were by name called the Perchil tribe. But they had to leave for more. Hmph. As if anything up in that ****** town is worth more then me."

Further up the river, away from the forest was a town named "Milan". It was named after a kingdom of the same name in Italy. People in Milan spoke German. This was odd given Milan lay in south America, but not unusual given its history of being a port to German slave traders who came from a German colony called "Tanganyika" in Africa. The town was named Milan because the Germans wanted to appear more Italian. This desire was apparent in their most famous dishes "schnitzel Pizza" and "Pasta Salsiccia". Pasta Salsiccia was pasta in a sausage casing often served with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes.

Perchil was also a member of that Indian tribe. He was Nahiko's brother and had a family of his own. Perchil was born in Evergreen and educated in Milan. He had been fighting with Nahiko over the terms of sale of the forest. Nahiko had wanted to preserve the land of old tribe. Perchil was already drawing up plans to sell it to an oil foundry. Their land happened to be on top of a great oil reserve. That means allot of animals lived and died on that land millions or thousands of years ago. There body would dissolve into a black gooey liquid used to fuel heavy machinery. This machinery is used by logging firms to cut down not exclusively, forests named Evergreen.

The wanderer, feeling awkward asked. "So, you'd rather not want to be destroyed?"
"Oh, I am a forest and I do maintain a will of my own and wants. But I cannot rather things should be anything other than what they are. The world is a destructive place. It is disrespectful of its former home and ancestry. I know this. I have tried however, to ward off the workmen by scaring them with my animals. In the end I shall become a town or a shopping mall."
In 3 years time, the deed to "Evergreen plains, Milan" would be sold and used to build a shopping mall named aptly "Evergreen Mall". And the forests voice would be spoke out of loudspeakers, but in the form of either a pre-recorded message or announcement about a lost child. Nahiko and Perchil would be married in Evergreen Mall. Nahiko three times.

"Oh woe is me, I lament my lost brothers and sister forests who are no longer beaming and prideful of their enormous trees and crested riverbanks."
"Maybe they should have defended themselves better." The wanderer spoke, trying unsuccessfully to show concern.
"Well, I for one will never give up fighting the man!"
"Good for you." The wanderer then ate his lunch.

Three days from now, the forest would stop speaking to anyone who arrived within its borders and see the lone wanderer again. But this time, he would be protected by four glass windows inside a piece of machinery powered by black gooey liquid called a "harvester" which lifted up wood and cut it into easily transportable pieces.

"Do you, believe in god wanderer?" The forest asked, to strike up some conversation.
"I do believe in god. He's the reason I get up in the morning and assists me in supporting my family."
"I don't. I don't think I believe in god, wanderer. If he exists, how could he let something so beautiful as I and my brother and sister forests be turned into shopping malls and townships like Milan."
The evergreen forest had seen the name "Milan" as a city nearby on a poster which flew into the twig of its tree. The poster was now lying on smooth ground weighted down by a root, as so the forest can read it over and over again. The poster advertised Pasta Salsiccia at a local restaurant in Milan. It had appetizing pictures of Pizza with crumbed steak on it and Pasta filled Sausages.
"God once flooded the earth, destroying all forests and people for their misgivings. Maybe you misgave and people are your divine punishment."
The forest grew silent and whispered soft hymns of wind against the leaves and overgrown shrubbery.

The edge of the creek, where the wanderer sat on a rock had a hard sand that stretched out a few meters disappeared into the dirt. It was unusual to see a small bed of sand without any other visible placements of sand. The wanderer had been dumping it there, with permission from the forest so he could form a base to store his harvester. The forest did not know of the sands purpose, she thought it looked pretty.
"If I were god, the world would be nothing but forests!" Evergreen stated. The gentle words turning a harsher coarse crackling of branches.
"The world seems to be nothing but people right now. Maybe gods a man."
"Unlikely! If god was a man, he would certainly love forests enough to never cut them down."
"Hm." The wanderer was dissatisfied with this explanation, but didn't want to argue.

"Would you **** anyone who came into your forest, just to prove a point?" The wanderer asked, waiting pensively.
"Oh no, as I said. I cannot change what already is and certainly would not bloom the effort to try. Besides. I also know about those people and their weapons. When it comes to human beings, no matter how hard I fight they will always win. How they ever came to develop boom guns and ratatatat chainsaws I have no idea. If they came from my forest, people would certainly have never developed tools so cruel and menacing. But, I suppose Eden had her way for you. Even if it was, at the cost of all our kind."
"Yeah. No matter forest or person, people always win. I'll always be below some rich powerful man too." The wanderer felt melancholy for feeling unimportant. The forest felt the same melancholy for her life and the world.

Suddenly and finally, a noise came from the wanderers pants. He then picked out his phone, clicked it and took it to his ear. After two hours, the wanderer walked east and out of Evergreen forest. He visited her three days later in his noisy harvester. made to cut wood. He parked on his sand bed. The wanderer left his harvester and locked the door without a word. Evergreen forest was properly harvested of its trees in 3 years time. Never uttering a word or complaint. The painted marking on the harvester she saw everyday however, was her last thought as she disappeared. The word painted onto the door of the harvester, its operator. "Perchil."
I wrote this a while ago, it's my first short story. Tell me if you like it. And maybe, beseech me. Whatever. I dunno. BE GENTLE!!!
Stanley crawled along the shore
Holding the ocean in his hand
Bearing the words "Nevermore"
He was quite justifiably mad.

He had without, a coin to his name.
Nor the age of someone wiser.
Stanely, without thinking met a dame.
Who shared his love of a ****** writer.

I refrain from telling you so thusly.
But I authored this text thinking of me.
In my room, on a bed.
Too bad no one likes reading about poor people.

Stanelys dame had given him hope.
And tore it slowly without a sound.
Crushing, to his very soul.
He refused to swim, preferring to drown.

But I dare not say where stanely ends.
Or where his story dared to lead.
He did not drown within those depths.
How poetic that must have been.

Stanely looked upon the beach.
Feeling four winds at his heels.
His writers note had overreached.
And stanely cried, forgetting that girl.
I'd prefer dark comedy writing.
Jan 2017 · 1.4k
Tims confession.
Blue streaks shew across the sky.
Manic days and semper fi.
Red dawn smashes out the sea.
Honor is all I claim to be.

Though I love and feel like saintly.
I reek, timorous, spineless and dainty.
But I have no respect for you!
Till we are in court, tried and true

It was the world, the world of defeat.
I planted my flag on a daisy and creek.
On a light dominion of my summerhouse place.
There sit, the lovely Welterman case.

Weltermans family gathered in boon.
Farewell to a daughter, a motherly loon.
I killed her. There. I said it okay?
But don't blame me, she was just in my way.

On a cold summer day, and a hot summer night.
Cicadas bizzled but hardly struck a fright.
Daisy lay sleeping, sweet next to me.
Leaving behind her unfinished dreams

But lo and behold, an undertaker.
Ruinous desire, I decided to take her.
My confession means nothing, my killing, an iota.
So love would not infect Alexander of Macedonia.

Down the throat and across the sea.
Of loquacious gelatinous sanctimony.
I'll cut deep without thinking, I'll slash without aversion.
Ophelia and her love is a tainted *******.

I bathed in the blood and cried myself silly.
She only deserved death, that ***** old filly.
No more would Welterman reek of my sin.
To lower a king, to a peasantly Tim.
god knows
Jan 2017 · 872
Hoarse words with their form.
Callous spirit in his drawn.
Macabre dreams are in seeming.
Flowers when I am a dreaming.

Love for the sweet and true.
Scintillating morning dew.
Bring his heart back unto me.
Candid with our misery.

A well spoken boy, but true enough.
Not without the ruff and tough.
Manic trees kiss the breeze.
Love infects these stupid trees.

Oh, but am I kidding?
Well that you'll never know.
That boy with his streaky hair.
And eyes a flaming glow.

Beautiful and sublime.
Miserably frozen.
Hoping without deserving hope.
To be the one he's chosen.

Oh, but I wouldn't beg on that.
No, not without a written contract.
To say unto us forever more.
That he would never walk out that door.
****** if i know
All thoughts are individual. It is impossible to take the energy and apparatus to which that energy is transferred through to develop a thought. Therefore no knowledge is taken, all is perceived to wit a schematic and the apparatus developed by our brains to develop the thought. The thought is then subjected to the body and undergoes scrutiny to provide a relevance, priority and application. Therefore it would be safe to assume that all knowledge is neither subjective nor objective but an entirely new word that could exemplify itself as "Understood as developed by ones own." Where I got this schematic for this idea was in counterance to the percieved robbing of thoughts and ideas from books and ideas. Would it be proper to call it the same thought? No. Would it be proper to call it a reaction? Only in the most mechanical of senses that is cause following effect.
This idea would be to liken to a computer having a file copied from one machine to another, while the content remains the same in its physical interpretation on the screen would completely change. As if being opened by two seperate programs. And we are not talking about the files being the same when we talk about ideas, ideas are consequences of what is perceived therefore consequences of the that is copied. Ideas are the effect and in their way, an individual interpretation by how the schematic of an idea is followed by what is transferred.
This idea in itself makes up for the massive hurdle that is misunderstanding between two people, each hearing fundamentally the same things while producing two differing ideas. In summation, an idea is a scrutinized original built on the schematic of that which is perceived and is each independent of a person and their surroundings.
Ah.. made to prove someone wrong
Dec 2016 · 772
I could have been dead!
Would that I, be dead in my head?
No, I be dead in thine bed.
Would not that you care that I am dead?

Poppycock and dead!
I am never dead, I am only my head.
Not dead so to say, that you take it away.
I am dead without thine head.

Dead! Better dead than red.
Red, dead in your bed covered in red.
I said I was dead, so leave me in bed.
Dead in your eyes, dead in my bed.

Dead, like dregs.
Dead in a dreg.
Covered head to toe in clay.
Making my way, in heaven to stay.
For you my babe, I am dead.
ahhhh beats me
Nov 2016 · 1.2k
Fanatic requirement
Sanctimonious priests and their **** Biretta hats.
Tell me of me of gods praise and a world in its hard collapse.
Where were you when I needed you.
Breaking hearts I suppose.

Wilderness and forests breach out across the hills.
Sunshine and rainbows will bless our day begin.
But I'm not watching anymore.
There's no need to get preachy.

And I reek of desperation for another mans touch.
And there's none to hear me scream I've got a pretty good hunch.
Do you even seem to care?
It's not very nice over here.

Harbor buses ship Asian businessmen back over gentle seas.
The city is alive against the saintly laden breeze.
I reach out to the stars.
They turn away and blush.

And I'll be ****** if I ever admit its not you its me.
And I'll keep up this facade, I'm over here and I'm free.
My body wanes past the flowers.
Their beauty turns to coal.
You're an aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalieeeeeeeeeeeeeen
Nov 2016 · 1.0k
Cooling off period
Tepid breaching house deep on the brink of collapse.
Sandpaper trails lay out the dust across the mats.
We couldn't get a carpet so we settled for the plastic.
Now the writing on the walls tell us its getting drastic.

Your hearts on your sleeve and my hearts buried in the yard.
The flowers dance in the wind on our cynical boulevard.
You're sitting in the paper covered misery of our room.
The T.V's blaring harsh at 4 in the afternoon.

I took it to the crossroad that stretched out to our sun.
He's dipping in the horizon like a criminal on the run.
Escaping the daytime shadows that bring us to the cross.
It's 2 past 4 the vodkas starting to wear off.

And I yell! And I scream.
We can't keep up this way!
Somethings gotta give!
I'm a callous felon every day on death row doorstep here with you.
The debts been piling up and my souls striving for something new.
I can't bring back your hero to this rat infested place.
Ever since he yelled at you he said that he'll be coming late.
The daytime sky's an ocean and my hell is were we sail.
Our destination is unclear to me from this stagnant rotting jail.
I bring you a little ***** and again you turn me down.
Lives about as sweet as you in your violet torn up gown.

Neighbors invite us to a Havana land beyond the stars.
In our new little world did you know they don't drive any cars.
They leave in tears cascade and bodies ready to collapse.
Muttering under there breath that they would never dare come back.

We argued about the price is right, we argued for the hour.
You threw out the remote and so I threw up the couch.
Handbag lipstick eyeliner spilled over your leather wallet.
It felt to them like an earthquake and for us two alcoholics.

You had been sipping on your red glass wine and protected it with your life.
I broke into a tsunami tirade of abuses and contrites.
A broken home laid out across the sunset of the day.
I'm glad the silhouette of you finally ran away.
Nov 2016 · 1.5k
Workaholic march
Harsh unyielding sunset, buries me against the page.
I won't be lazing on a couch, left to rot and waste away.
Wormy plush Berber carpet soft against the afternoon.
Debts are pile high and the company picnic is this June.

The pages are vellum paper covered in ancient Egyptian script.
I've loved you methodically ever since we met inside that crypt.
The dregs brings me solemn hope that one day we'll breakthrough.
Works calling in on Sunday for some overtime that's overdue.

Its a 5 past 4 the glass lays arrhythmic, shattered at my feet.
We found each other down beside the casket of the diseased.
Heartfelt words never came out of a mouth that were so pure.
How could you take me for interesting, in life I'm just a bore.

Down. I've already ruined the letter meant from me to you.
Life is not a fairy tale to broker marriage for us two.
Bloodletting's an aphrodisiac to keep me at the brink.
Why'd I write this silly thing when I spilled my drink.
um. written with a friend. This poem is her fault.
Nov 2016 · 951
Break into the hallway.
See you on the stairs.
The stillness of the air.
No beauty could compare.
To the miserable girl.
Sitting there.
Her heart is down and she's already unable to repair.
What she's done to herself.
Its piece of work.

Like the harsh, harsh day and the daily grind.
It's not hard to say, lets not talk of that tonight.
I'm not here to say that you're a **** inclined.
To tell me where you were, but you're smoking here tonight.

Hard to say.
Where we went so wrong.
Hard to say.
There's nowhere to run.
But its easy to bring.
An empty plate.
And too easy to find.
An empty ******* buffet.

And we're so abscond. We're so, **** unkind.
There's no harbor here, because we're sailing blind.
If you, want to say that you're hurt inside.
I'll bring you the drinks and we'll drink to that, goodbye.

So see me here in my heavy plight.
It's gone bleak real fast, its gotten a mighty trite.
I'm not here today.
I'm here tonight.
you're still sitting here, on the stairs.
I see you there.
Heart in your hand.
Blood in your hair.
Cabinets closed.
Head on a rope.
I'm not to blame.
I had no hope.

So say, now goodbye there's no need to cry.
We were doomed from when we had tried to start.
And if you, come back home I will bring you my heart and,
We will drink to our safe and sound, night time and goodbye.

Our house is gone.
We cannot stand.
We will not beg.
We will not brag.
Love is a rough.
Life is a bare.
I'll join you soon.
Here on the stair.
Suppose to be a song
Nov 2016 · 552
Heart you
Candy cane body under lustrous fluorescent lights.
Energy saving bulb and its saving us tonight.
Her hearts brought out rusted like a trophy on display.
Begging you to be taken out far and far away.

Overtly smoking days till you forget who we are.
Our family is beginning to break the walls of the reservoir
And your face is looking back peering harshly into me.
The topology of your tears trace back thunderous raging seas.

Keep on my face hard while I keep unto every night.
Drink back painful memories with prickled sweet delight.
Leer into my soul like the devils bill is close to due.
***** eyes moor under a savory callous moon.

Laugh the pain and enjoy while your senses rot away
Bake every morning naked burning oven made chocolate cake.
Spite life with all its misery and drink away the fights.
Humbug sweetness finally breaks you down into a cry.

Kinder eyes that conceal misery unable to behold.
Feel the window pane as it strikes you deep dying inside and cold.
Outside the lawn is cut it resembles well your self esteem.
And who did cut this lawn but your tepid need to so clean.

The walls are painted white to reflect the light we have inside.
Paint them black, fall into silence you're a specter in the night.
Your falling into numbness within inches of your life.
And I watch.
And I watch

Hold me like your life has always depended on it.
Because now it always has.
Life is for the living but we won't die here like they said we have.
It looks bleak from here on out and your train is coming in.
Promise me there won't be any more happiness again.

And you look outwards.
Deep into my eyes.
You don't see it in my face but the moon is here tonight.
Its right behind you there like a incandescent fluorescent light.
The mountains scream upon us to rejoin them in the forest there and die.

I keep upon your face as the last hour chases by.
He's in a robbers outfit sown black and white striped.
The policeman is here as I wake up to that painful glorious and bright.
Sun in the sky he's here to tell us off for our sin.
Regret and feel at the pain and again into your binge.
Drink into your sorrow as you try and hide the pain.
Feel at the abuse that haunts you here and every day.
How dare we live in this world where people are trying to forget.
And awful memories cascade down my face, you're still a statuette.
I look into the sky and see the moon laugh down at me.
He's still up at this time, it's almost 10 o'three.

I break into a bottle and you break into a frown.
That painful face edging ever so close to breaking down.
There's no one here but us and the wind making noise at this hour.
So crank up the music before the mood turns a dainty sour.
But don't cry.
Ah.. Uh. Hm. Mm.
Nov 2016 · 524
Smokes and cigarette cartons all about the place.
Empty milk bottles and their stench brings back the taste.
My hell in the sky, bring my body back home to come and play.
Mommy, are you busy dying, I'm a little hungry today.

Sadistic little me, fancy sitting on a chair.
Crazy big you with the damp and messy hair.
Will you give me your attention, I can't make out your expression,
Over there?
I love you, please light up so I can sit and

Kick down the door, it's gotten much harder to keep our spirits up.
I can tell that after this evening your a little down on feeding us.
You can't stand to see yourself and I treated here this way.
Could you tell me where you hid my toys, I'm a little bored today.

But it's hot outside.
and your skins turned pale.
He's off at work after beating you this morning and freshly out of jail.
Bruises clout your eyes as I remember everything.
We've been in this house since I can't remember when.

And I remember. I remember it all.
I remember when the bloodstains pooled and stained our kitchen floor.
I remember when your screams crept in and ran about the room.
I remember peeking through the doorway to see what had happened to you.

I remember.
I remember where we stand.
And I remember to this day, taking you there, hand in hand.
My other hand on my bottle, yours covering your face.
I remember those little words that i had spoke to you that day.

"Mom, the toast is done."

And like that, it all fell into a dream.
Life began to course that way into a ****** seem.
He walked out and you fell to the ground without much to say.
They came to the house and took me far and far away.
Life had then forgotten you and broke into your house.
He shot you without prerogative and let you bleed out.
Oh mother, answer me how can anyone get through this pain.
You lived another day just to take leave anyway.
You broke down.
In tears when you saw me again.
I put to you that I would always love you to the end.
It was 8 years later from when the toast had finished cooking that day.
You took to the bed at dinner, and your bible to go and pray.
And I felt your embrace smother me with warmth through out.
You were skint with your money and very prone when angry to shout.
Only fair to say I could see you crumble a little more each day.
Till the funny farm took you in and drugged your ****** mind astray.

Now I pray, only to myself.
That I won't leave your love at the doorstep and take it without doubt.
You may be more damaged heartland that failed to believe.
I find it difficult to find inside a heart for me.

And we broke out.
We broke into a fight.
Every word  I punctured further into you as the moon into the night.
I should have kept going I should have broke your spirit down.
I never should have pity for that heart you swing about.
Now I have a brother who was in the position I was in.
Now your bruised and he's telling you to be sure make for him.

"Mom, the toast is done."
I don't know but.. god help me.
Nov 2016 · 2.5k
You want cultured? Fuck you.
I **** on your grave for I have had too much to drink!
A glass 'o ginger beer and shrimp crackers I ate today.
Thou art not to fall! To tartuffery for a drink is as good as the last.
But alas, I am not to drink.
For my heart is heavy with woe.
Those stoics! They bring me much misery.
Oh the stoics, with their logically given truths that are naught but prejudice! Prejudice in truth they claim, liars.

Oh the stoics, with their ****** analogies of nature and so fourth.
To be! Like nature, is to be indifferent and prodigal.
That's probably why we love the intelligent uncaring character. He is nature.
She too! O' who's heart is full of love! She brings me roses and kisses upon my lips. She too, is nature. Stupid also, unbelievably crass.
Is crassness then, what we call nature? Then it is he! He! Who bring us our daily news who is unnatural. But then who is the preacher?
No, nature is to live. To live! Hah! A joke! To live is not a command for you cannot conceptualize living without living.
You'd do better as a pretty little scarab, but he doesn't drink ginger beer.

So too, our conclusion is to be natural. But not the scarab. To live, obviously. To be correct! by our own prejudice. And to reject divinely given truths. I do not know how I would feel about children of my own, we'll see when I have one.
******* ****
Nov 2016 · 1.7k
In our orange man, we trust.
The willingness to speak objective truths!
Born out of the prejudice in experience.
He is no god, but a man who speaks to you.
The people, who are proud to be Americans.

He is our ruler, in Trump we trust.
The abused, the lied to and put in harms way.
The dead homosexuals and Christians.
The ministry of truth, the CNN.
The white lynching at the protests.
And the weak Clintonites are abandoning ship!

Had she won, we would stay and endure.
They run, we stayed under Obama.
The dead are finally leaving.
Lets see if Trudeau can treat them better.

He is hard spoken, harsh and a man of the people.
Build the wall! More like fix the wall.
Deport the illegals, they are not Americans.
Stop the muslims who are killing my people.

This is not out of hate, but love. My love for truth and happiness.
Maybe now we can have a country that values both.
Not a lying ***** who silences **** victims.
Oh, give me strength!
Strength! To save our childrens schools!
Strength! To save our children from hate!
Love! to bring love, not resentment for humanity!
O, give me truth. The truth that humanity is not horrible.
That my whiteness is not a feature to describe me.
That my heterosexuality is not a privilege.
That I find my own life, not the lives of the pacific.

Give us, to trust our country to a man who has raised successful children.
Let him be our role model, not that which seeks to lecture me on sexism.

God political poems are trash. Just like your hatred. Let it go, only admonish the actions.
It's current year.
**** Obama for campaigning for his replacement.
******* ****
Aug 2016 · 771
Oh god
Oh god, am I given virtues by you?
Or am I born with these virtues?
Do I need you?
Or do you tell me what to do?

Can I **** in the name of the lord, oh god?
Will they all go to heaven, oh god?
You ******, god.
Is it godly to ******?

Oh god, will I go to heaven?
Where I am forced to be happy?
Will thee make me love thy fellow sinners?
Brainwash me with love my lord.

Oh god, will I go to hell for my sins?
Forever in extreme pain for a venial sin?
Does thou consider this fair?
Oh god, are you a sadist?

Oh god, can you forgive me?
My lord, you sent your son to die.
Is this because you cannot forgive me?
Can man do something god cannot?

Oh god, is this world of pain and misery your creation?
Have you designed us to be in famine, **** and lunacy?
May I starve, be ***** and go insane in your sight?
Does this please my, oh god?

Oh god, do you blame the devil for your creation?
Have you, the all knowing one never sinned?
Are you not the one who killed in pride, Jobes livestock?
Why did you give humanity temptation?

Oh god. Is heaven, the place I want to be valhalla?
Is hell, the Hades of Hellenist religion?
Oh god, do you expect me to believe a book?
And zombies?

Oh god, thou must take me for a fool.
Which I am.
A fool whom blames humanity for it's problems.
And not the invisible spirits of the night.
just a bible thing
Could you give me a moment?
How long was that moment.
Why are you keeping me waiting.
When will I see you again?

Have you given thought to what you want to be?
I've thought and I want to be god.
I want to be your god.
When will I see you again?

Do you love me?
Of course I love you.
Do you love me back?
When will I see you again?

Will you be with me forever?
I will.
How long will you be here?
When will I see you again?

Do you have any questions for me?
When will I stop hearing your voice in my head?

Do you want an answer from me?
No, you're just me masquerading as a long lost love.

Do you love me?
Not anymore.
Don't say that kid.**
She's dead to me, keep pretending and you'll be dead to.
just my thoughts
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
He looked across the boardwalk into the inalienable ocean.
Love danced upon the cresting waves.
The sound of a quantum leap stretched thousands of miles.
A piece of him was still with her.

She looked across the boardwalk with another.
Pain no longer had a home within her golden hair.
She had withstood time, it's waves began again.
His need showcased in the night sky, to her horror.

Deadly, their entanglement remains after being long forgotten.
Poison gas reaches into his head, the same gas rots her mind.
Toxic people and corrosive words melt their being.
Condemned to the hell he calls home.

Pull and push, he pushes on, she pulls away.
He continues his war march into this nethermost dwelling.
She escapes into the day, burning at its torrid sunlight.
He destroy her mind, She prolongs his pain.

In the end, they're just two toxic people in love.
Never to see each other again.
No real substance beyond the obvious. Maybe he could end it.
Jun 2016 · 685
We are all in agreement, it ends here.
The images in my head, I will remove myself from them
Every hope and dream I had with another faded.
To the back of the bar with her.
Together watching our kids go off to school, weird love.

The universe caressed my cheek.
Knowledge dipped into the night, telling me to follow it.
Home, where I no longer belong.
Nowhere among the fools.

I felt my head spin, it had been in a spin for a while.
My hand gripped tight around my manhood.
Chemicals took to the street in protest of my *******.
Nothing can bring me back now.

I saw her eyes, felt her breast.
Caressed her golden hair as it went down on my shaft.
Never did I think I was alone.
My dream bored me.

The scarcely interesting URL of xvideos, my usual site.
My head wasn't spinning, it was as if I was laying still.
Every ****** fantasy I erased myself.
There's no need to know who's in my place.

I came to a lowly ******* of a girl and a much older man.
The control he emitted, I felt my own need to control slip away.
Truly inconsequential, the human respect.
Was I a creature designed to breed?

I have a perfect face.
Eyes beyond the measure of heaven.
Proportions designed with the intent to charm.
I'm the man who can make the world bearable.

I have been dismantled, put back together.
I took suffering and pain beyond reasonable measure.
My feeling has been denied and cut down.
My humanity is still there.

I guess it ends here.
Well you're probably right reader.
This isn't my last poem.
It's the end of a genre.

I feel alright, I feel good.
My dream of being better, to sacrifice myself for intellect.
It's a bitter pill to swallow, to give up so much work.
To throw my humanity to the abyss.

I just wish. The chemicals could have been a bit stronger.
Probably the last one I'll post. No matter.
Jun 2016 · 854
Forgive my eyes for being blind.
They only see pain.

Forgive my hands for shaking.
I can't stop them from being afraid.

Forgive this head for over-thinking.
I can't feel safe.

Forgive my tears for being absent.
My eyes are not aloud to cry.

Forgive my body for not being able to feel.
It isn't strong enough to bear it's pain.

Forgive my heart for being silent.
It was silenced long ago by a bad man.
just a written
Jun 2016 · 862
Silly boy, you weren't ready for this.
You hadn't studied for it.
Love is joy, you never felt it like that.
Now it's your weapon.

How is this for you?
Does it help?
Will this pain bring you to work harder?
ть в порядке?

Angels watch your misguided adventure.
They're laughing at you.
God whispers into your ear.
Or is he the devil?

People avoid your crooked walk.
Loved ones, already cursed with your touch.
She got away, and is still cursed.
You divide .

How long will the wind guide you.
Devoid of free will.
**** them all.
Curse them with your touch.

Forever within your heart.
Poison your mind with doubt.
Silly boy, you gave up choice already.
Now you're on a road to ******.

Angels lower their heads in disappointment.
Devils look away.
Just another obsession.
I'm about to turn to dust.
no reason
Jun 2016 · 720
No atonement
I know to whom I love.
That to which I give myself to.
All my possession and body belongs.
To me.

And so everyday my heart grows colder.
My soul a bit more broken.
Solace searched for in broken glass.
Knowledge consumes me.

I am the evil scientist plotting in his lab.
No righteous flag.
Just more angst I should let out through alcohol.
A broken genius.

Remember me as I was.

Love yourself, because hell knows I wouldn't.

Who are you? Reading this, recalling your memories. This is a look into my head.
There is no lesson to learn.
Just the ramblings of a dead man.

If you want a worthwhile lesson. Don't try to change people you want to keep. You are not the world.
feel my pain
Jun 2016 · 674
How many masks did I tear off their faces?
I've already lost count.
Of ****** faces and bruised eyes.
There's no heaven where I'm going.

Do they still breath I wonder.
Will they be happy?
Can I see them, my afflictions.
Will they find solace in my suffering?

The pain I feel.
It's all in my head.
The guilt of ******.
The pain of abandon.

Remind me in a park why you left.
So I can walk my own trail once more.
May 2016 · 998
It happens
Today I saw the future.
It was not an image nor a video.
But an idea.
The idea of a new tomorrow without
you in it.

Today I stood out in the darkness.
Relishing the heat of the artificial
light burning my skin.
I am here, again since forever ago.

Today I broke my vow to love.
Her gentle hair now awash with
the blood of my betrayal.
I will no longer protect her.
And with that I renege my promise.

Today I stand over the body of her corpse with another.
Her name echos in the wind "Tarah".
My life, like everyone elses.
Like every event
every star
every universal constant
in the multiverse.
goes on.

Today life happened.
Just like yesterday.
Just like the day before that.
On those days I stood before you.
Now there is only a shadow Desperately chasing it's body as it walks away.
Away being god to another.
May 2016 · 832
If I ever
If I ever were to describe myself, I would be despondent.
Never happy when alone.
When with others, I would be absorbed into their feelings.
But really, my feelings couldn't be faced.

If I ever could depict my past, The painting would be bland.
A lone grey figure struck against a white wall.
The child without love nor maternal instinct.
Paying for survival with absolute compliance.

If I ever told you what I was thinking right now, I'd be lying.
Surrounded by a thousand paper target in a warehouse.
Suffering through your interrogation.
And you dare call it conversation.

I remember shouting at myself.
Decreeing my own hell.
Whispering in that sullen terrifying voice.
"You are the epitome of nothing, unable to love or be loved."

In truth, I was loved.
I was loved and cared for.
My love, was conditional, it was always paid for.
And for that payment I will never love back.

If I ever wrote you a poem, disregard it.
My words are better off in the sea.
Closing the book on my heart.
You, who loved me.
I, who needed you.
The question on how you treat your peers. Is how you use them. But how you treat you love is more difficult, whether you see them as tools or as people.
May 2016 · 725
******** are those who do not create a future.

Probably ****** are those who stake their happiness on a future.
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