Charlotte

Charlotte Sep 8

I have been dreaming big, for a very long time
Dreaming big, but doing small
Feeling scared of failing, so not even trying

How do I start doing big?
What am I waiting for?
How do people wake up and start doing things?

Im stuck
Stuck on my bed
Stuck on my phone
Stuck in my life,
Stuck on dreaming,
My bed is my crutch, without it I feel aimless
Here on my bed I can see time tick away,
it laughs at me and calls me names,
tells me I am useless
and I will always be stuck,
on dreaming

Charlotte Jun 2017

Sometimes...

This isn't a lazy confession
I didn't sit down and decide about my life
I have no moments of striking clarity

This is just a four paragraph poem
That I wrote while high
About my minds puzzled nature
I can't ever decide

By this time I'm usually out of words
I can't find a rhyme
My life has been about mediocrity
And with that, I think I'm fine

But as poems go, I think a happy ending is desired
So yeah, sometimes a haiku catches me by surprise
On some gloomy nights I find a sweet song I'd like
Sometimes I read Neruda and I cry
Sometimes during nights like this I realise
That I do believe
Somewhere inside

Jun 2014

mark john junor

daughters of pestilence

i was sleeping sweetly
till i heard strange sound
trumpets of some deadly thing approaching
a november cold wind in her eye
she walked a shadowy figurine on storm wracked road
as she walked slow and deliberate dressed all in black
she held a dozen bones of a bird that flew
she held a dozen bones of a man that ran
none escape her hand
not in noonday sun
or riding by the fog bound moon in the night
you can find her stirring pestilence on cookfire
along the river road
with the mother of all decay for company
she asked me in a frail voice
what is it that you see...what darkness binds me
i said all manner of beast crawls your pale skin
all manner of shadow calls your heart home
i said you are a walking open grave
she smiled and brushed cold finger on my lip
promise of a deep kiss
that made my very soul shudder
that made me howl in heart deep terrors
fled that dark dream with its tastes of death
fled here to noon day sun
long as i keep the sun overhead
maybe ill see her comin and run

(why is death always cast as a man?)

— The End —