Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I never allow myself to open up...
Emotions flow but always get stuck
What is this fire burning inside of me?
I'll let it burn so all can see
With the ashes I write these lines
As if I'm confessing to all my crimes
Lock me up for being who I am
A recovering fool trying to understand
Where am I supposed to be?
Should I set roots and grow like a tree?
Cocoon in life's womb butterfly and take flight
The fire in my soul has given me sight
What I've learned and come to understand
Has made me evolve into who I am
Poetry my water my soul be the cup
Pouring from my mind as I open up
M.A.N 1-2-14
 Jan 2014 Bilal Kaci
Olivia Kent
And now I sink.
A feeling of deeply drifting.
Wrapped in warmth.
In Hugs of love.
Am I on drugs.

No In a dream.
I always dream.
Love is but a mere fantasy.
Liquid sunshine beats on my window.
Yet again.

Perhaps a breath of fresh air.
A spot of cobweb extraction.
The feisty rain is lifting me.
Up from my drifting kip.
Before I sink again.


My eyes are closing now.
As a bud they're shutting tight!
Goodnight!
By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Night World **
After my Goodnight's I can't sleep ** BAH!
Little Morrigan  .  .  .
Crow still flies in my embrace,
My arms have your back.
The Morrígan ("phantom queen") or Mórrígan ("great queen"), also written as Morrígu or in the plural as Morrígna, and spelt Morríghan or Mór-ríoghain in Modern Irish, is a figure from Irish mythology who appears to have been considered a goddess, although she is not explicitly referred to as such in the texts.

The Morrígan is a goddess of battle, strife, and sovereignty. She sometimes appears in the form of a crow, flying above the warriors, and in the Ulster cycle she also takes the forms of an eel, a wolf and a cow.
Judith sat on her bed
the window showed
night sky

and moon
and stars
she'd been

carol singing
with the choir
walking the route

outlined
singing at houses
to people

she and Benedict
amongst others
the parson

had the torch
others battery lamps
to read from sheets

she had walked
with Benedict
close by

near to his elbow
breathed in
his air

not cold
his hands
holding the sheet

if I lean closer
I can rub mine
against his

she did
skin on skin
she lifted her eyes

from the sheet
with words of carols
studied his face

lit up by
lamp light
hazel eyes

lips open
now closed
kiss

O if
maybe he will
if

she leaned in
he looked up
from the sheet

looked at the others
nearby rustling sheets
moving lamps

shadowed
he moved in
please kiss

she sensed him near
lips brushed
closer please

touch me
fill me
empty me

he moved in
pressed his lips
to hers

all else blanked
moon
stars

sky
others
rustling sheets

light gone
all else
but the kiss

the lips
undone
opened up

filled
she sensed
knife-like wounds

in her being
in her heart
in her ***

her heart somersaulted
her lips burned
to bright red

and branded his
more more
press

into me
seal our lips
as one

his free hand
encircled her
hers

encircled him
her bed creaked
she moved

further back
their lips
had parted

carols began
others sang
he and she

rustled sheets
lips aflame
she felt older

than her 13 years
at that moment
in time

he seemed ancient
in his 14 years aged
just love

lips
kiss
no crime.
A GIRL AND BOY IN 1961 CAROL SINGING AT CHRISTMAS.
snow drift,
ride the busy street.
many windows,
and far too many wonders.
i put boots on,
ready to take off,
and in that instant
a knot in my heel.
is this a sign to slow
down? stay put  
in my old town?
but the old town
brings back old
stories, truth,
and fables.
to start fresh,
I guess so.
so travel west-
as west as Chicago
gets.
to see my Katherine smile,
it's warms my soul,
it brings me back home-
even when I'm far
from home.
To hear the blunder
from outside,
it's great.
Things I'd miss most
are shooting stars
and constellations
near the moon.
But who am I kidding,
you can't see shooting
star in New Jersey anyway.
To throw the Newports in
the freezer, to replace them
with fudge-pops could be a
start.
Starting fresh could mean
starting over.
I cannot help but
hurt from wanting
what the heart
wants.
And who knows,
a year or two later
my heart could be
closer to the Sun and
the Moon-
floating in Space,
or dead on the floor.
I can not help but follow
what the heart wants
right now.
to sip tea and coffee,
not knowing what I really
prefer, not hearing from
my Mother, knowing that
she really does not
approve- how can
I not just want
anything more
than just some
personal space?
to sit on the couch
and read every book
or magazine that comes
my way?
how can I tell the people
that I love that I had
a breakdown? I lost
control of myself?
I screamed, I kicked,
I spit, I swore?
To throw it all away.
how many times
will I wash my mouth out
and learn to watch
what I say, when this
breath down my
neck has never
been more cold?
What broke me?
Why did it feel so ******* righteous?
I swear, as long as my *** is round,
I'm probably in a better place,
some sort of better state of mind.

My 85-year-old neighbor once
told me, if she didn't laugh,
she'd cry about her deceased husband.
So, I often wonder, with all this laughing
I do, does it cover me well?
Does it warm my broken heart?

I stuck a pencil in my ear once,
because I had a little itch.
Mind you, I was 7.
But I kept this secret from
everyone, I didn't want to be screamed
at. Two weeks later, my friend ratted on me
and I ended up in the doctor's office,
screaming my head off.
This was the day I almost went deaf.

I wear glasses for my nearsighted vision,
and it's nice to choose when I feel like seeing.
It's hard for me to believe if I'm looking at whatever
it is that everyone is usually looking at.
And no one will ever be too sure, if we all see or hear
the same thing. But, I'll tell you what, seeing is
believing. And if I could begin to explain,
some of the things I thought I'd seen,
maybe it would begin to make sense-
Why I laugh all the time.

A droid statue, mechanical failure,
a deepened depression no one ever saw
forever ago. color-blinded green eye,
a real big joke, a decent lie.
I race myself through my blue-blooded veins,
the alter-ego, dead-deafened twin that lives within.

She lives, and she loves for no reason,
but simply just because.
Because if it wasn't love, it'd be a hate
pool that I'd drown in.
 Dec 2013 Bilal Kaci
tayler
right now
right here
i'm drowning
in thankfulness
that i feel like
i won't ever be able to
express in full,
so i write these words
to let out a little
water and get enough
space to breathe.

friendship is
the greatest gift
i have ever been
blessed with.
i'm indebted to you
in a way i could
never pay you back.
i know i haven't
been a good influence.
i was always bad
at being good.
i'm expelled now
and you're still here
by my side.
i know i saved you
from this punishment
but that won't ever be
enough.
even the most
taboo of my thoughts
don't send you running
and that dumbfounds me.
the moment that we have to leave
and part ways, is the moment
a piece of my soul is going to
die. i love you.
know that,
no matter what,
you will
always
have
me
as
a
friend.
Next page