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 Feb 2020 B Sonia K
Chloe
Contingent
 Feb 2020 B Sonia K
Chloe
Is the night real
     or am i?
Are the two truly
    so dependent?
Oh, they would have to be!
For, in the night I never wake
    and the night never sleeps.
2020
I’m not sure what is behind all this existential poetry I’m writing.
 Jan 2020 B Sonia K
Maria Etre
Why are you still dressed
when I am fully naked in front of you?
The tense feeling of knowing they're hiding something when you have already given them your all.
 Jan 2020 B Sonia K
Lola
LOST SOULS
 Jan 2020 B Sonia K
Lola
Always in motion
No solid  foundation
In search of a definition
Awaiting a day to be found.
 Jan 2020 B Sonia K
Bogdan Dragos
young people,

they think nobody has the
same thoughts as them
they take great pride in some made up
originality

as if really nobody ever thought up
scenarios of themselves descending
some rope from some helicopter and
dropping in the middle of enemy forces and
starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an ****
and killing all the bad guys while not
taking one bullet
One man army

or there’s those other thoughts
of being simply the greatest at some
sport and being admired and envied for it

also, the thoughts of *** in all its forms

the thoughts of mindless violence

of saving the day

of being somewhere else and doing something else

all kinds of thoughts
and all the minds who think them label them as original

but they’re not original

they’re every young person’s thoughts

and me,
I also have thoughts I consider original

I think of how it is to be old
pretty much every **** day
I think of me being old and dried up and weak
and waiting for death

it’s not a very pleasant thought
especially for someone in their twenties
but it’s my way of labeling my thoughts original

maybe in some wheel chair
with a nurse pushing me from behind
No kids
no family
no fortune
no achievements
a life wasted
death watching from above
mockingly

and myself looking up at it
smiling
*******, you think you got me
but little do you know that
while I was able, while I was more lively than
a rotting carrot
I defied you by ripping apart pieces of me
that will stick with the world
long after I’m gone

Oh, they might not be great pieces or even good ones
but behind they remain as you take me away

and all of them branded with my name
It’s through them that I am
immortal

and there’s nothing you can do about it

great, good
or bad,
you cannot **** a poet
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