Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
This is a poem for nobody’s eyes
About my students
my flowering black and brown baby girls
more bud than human, saying all singsong how
black is ugly ugly ugly
holding their arms up to
one another, comparing hues
About the instant I realized
I loved women too
and sagged hard against my bedroom door while
dread and hope danced a strange dance
in the pit of my gut
About the college kids I see in class everyday
popping Aspirin and Xanax and the pill
with their headphones and angry publicness and
******* ******* **** this
and notebooks and pens and
soft privateness and
I love you I need you I need you
About the boy I couldn’t speak to for years
without feeling sick or small or unrequited
About Audre, Toni, and Maya teaching me
how to start revolutions with a word
About how I dream again and again
of kissing the girl I am in love with
and sometimes
we are the in the dark and sometimes
we are laughing and sometimes
I am moving breathless
into the room saying
I have never loved you more than I do at this moment
and lips are on lips are on lips
About how I can’t look at this one
pink nightgown because I was wearing it
when my father said he was cheating and
too many tears fell on those
tiny satin cherries
About Holden Caufield and that
******* merry-go-round
About a crazy, unquiet and
utterly illuminated self
Me, spoken yet unspoken
Wide eyes when I enter
into the dim lit porch.
As usual you were hiding
in the corner drink in hand.
Was it the past
that broke your palms
so now you don’t extend them?
Cracked ribs
beneath the cotton you wear-
everyone lives in fear
of skinned knees and bruised elbows.
What would your skin
reveal if it was marked
with my red lipstick,
like the necks of bottles
or my morning cigarette.
From the lavender dreams I live in
dawn always shines the brightest
and reminds me
that I will never know how your vertebrates
came to be.

- C.K
I need to
I want to
I burn for the feeling
I cry to fill this void.
This hole.
The emptiness.
Where emptiness once was a heart.
To feel the steel
In my veins
to smell the rust
flow through my blood.
to watch a river of darkness.
fall to my feet
to only watch the darkness creep
following down the lighted tunnel
to step further and further away
once foot at a time
one breath less
to make this last
hear those cries
hear the screams
see the tears
feel the pain
just to feel that steel slice
just to watch the blood fall
to see my skin stain
to end all this pain
just take my misery away.
The ceiling's all wrong.
It never looked at me like that before.
No need to be cross, it's only a quarter to four.
Don't be snide with me, I'll go to sleep before long.
Who else has felt that the ceiling's all wrong?

This day feels all wrong.
How'd the Sun come up so fast?
I blinked and here I am, having a blast.
Was it someone, someplace, or maybe some song?
Whatever it was, now this day feels all wrong.

This season's all wrong.
Autumn is the most beautiful time.
But the way it is now, you'd think it's a crime,
to enjoy this weather, you really have to play along.
God, oh please tell me why this season's all wrong.

My life feels so wrong.
This bottle and this table too.
One gives me support, the other, will to push through.
I'm sitting here crying, unable to even carry on.
Why in the Hell does my life feel so wrong?

Your eyes look so right.
You're my Autumn, you beauty.
If I leave here tonight, please, by God, please come follow me cutie.
No wait, scratch that line, now it sounds very wrong.
Sixteen pillboxes empty, I'm done being strong.

This is what happens when your heart is all wrong.
Nothing lasts forever
So why are we running away from death?
Knowing that one day we will be catch up by time

why are we so afraid to admit the truth?
That everything has an end

Those who died yesterday
Thought they would live today
So why should we be an exception?

Sometimes i'm asking my self what could we take to the grave
And then i realize there is no difference between the poor and the rich

Will there be any lawyer to justifie our acts?
Once we will plunge into the darkness

We have a limited time in this world
Why don't we use it to make a better place?

A place where children would smile
And where the elders woudn't cry
A place where life grows like a wild plant
You say
you want
someone to
To get you
on a deeper
and really
with you...
Then why do
you push
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
Next page