Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jun 2015
bones
If some day
I should pass you
clothed in shades
of pale pastel

all I ask
is turn your face
from my failing
sense of taste...
I have an age old dread
of an old age dress sense..
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
She really knows how to maketh a man beg for more
Her title-
Miamour'
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
The demon scratches me
I bite him back
The demon pushes me
I spit in his face with a smack
The demon taunts me
I calleth him out by name
They hate their name called
Don't wanna be recognized for the flame
The demon shows false affections
I giveth him hate
The demons a smiler as he latches to me
I'll kick him to hells gate
The demons find me downtimes
Though with God I shalt win
Demons love misery
To seeith one in sin
Demons are smelly
Like all the dump trucks on the earth
Times ten
Demons haveth enemies
They hate even their own kind
They haveth none kin
Demons haveth a date
With Satan in the fire
They'll turn thou on with lust
For thou they do admire
Demons hast hurt me
They've tried to bring me to mine death
Soo many health issues
I know tis not me
Them
The demons hast entered mine family
From the lives we didst choose!
They entered by portals
Between good and bad souls
They came and come as orbs
Spirtual energy
Trapped to a distance
God won't let them get to close to me
They always want more
They show themselves now and then
They'll portray themselves as good souls
Wherein its all pretend
The demons speaketh in mine bathroom
They hide out in the closets
Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe
Spies as I sleepeth
They want mine bright soul
It's full of massive glowing energy
They know it as I'm told
So to bad because their not me
They made a big mistake
Turning away from God
Now their outcast losers
Fate of hell and grud!!
They'll soon be in chains and shackles
So they cause pain now whilst here on earth
They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others
Psychics
Life after death (experiences)
And from preachers
Pastors and others
They come large
Small
Animal like
Mauled
They come stinky
Scaly
Nothing thou shalt imagine
Couldn't fathom
Their everywhere
City streets
Malls
Gyms
Stalls
Homes
Air
First heaven
Second heaven
Hell
Everywhere
Yet these demons cannot taketh me
They knoweth I'm gods light
So demon get hence from me....
Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
This is real story of me life and what's happening to others.. Don't care if you think I'm crazy many more like me!! So could care less of anything of one saying I'm nuts
 Jun 2015
Ignatius Hosiana
And Death knocked at my door and asked if I was ready with my Coffin
"Coffin for what?",I asked
"It will be your roof to save you the rain",Death replied.
Have you come with some morphine?",It was my turn to ask.
"Morphine?", said death in confusion.
Yes,Morphine, I'm not going down without a fight so by the time I hit the canvas you'll need it to soothe the pain
No, I wasn't ready for a fight",Death sighed, guess you'll have to die another day.
I'm inspired by people who battle cancer, It's ******* them just incase you haven't seen one
 Jun 2015
poetessa diabolica
the damage
has already
    been done
by the time
  brass tacks
rise to
  the surface,
and all the pretty
maidens are stacked
   like Russian wooden
       nesting dolls,*
in an insatiable
  hunger, yearning
   to possess
     the most toys
 Jun 2015
Solaces
i sang to the forest, i sang to the moon, i sang to the old stars above me that seem to sing too..
Ghost singing
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
A feather fell
From mine Spanish amare's wing
I attached it to mine back
Now I canst fly like mine queen!!!
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Romantics thou sayest thou art oh men?
Well
Why canst thou post poems for thy love
Every five seconds as I?

Maby I'm just the crazy one here
Hahahahaha!!!
 Jun 2015
poetessa diabolica
Creatively enticing,
   profoundly sensual
  boundlessly experienced,
cryptically presumptive
inordinately exclusive
 
 effusively lavished,
anesthetized or blatant
allusive beyond ethereal,
metaphorically inferred
criminal insanity

disquiet midst agitation,
peaceably surrendered
illustriously polished
or indubitably raw
    fruitful to a fault - -
in reciprocity's glory be

   quenches thirst,
     satiates a hunger
flourished midst ink's
designed grandeur,
poetry never fails to thrive,
   tripping the light fantastic  
    in its exuberant offering*

Seize the power
 Jun 2015
Ignatius Hosiana
I want to trend
Not in modern but in the good ancient my friend
I want a candle; candles up an earthen chandelier
I'm tired of the tick tack of the modern switch
I want the moon and stars like life was earlier
I'm done with bulbs which when old start to twitch
I want a type writer to capture what I write in my book
I'm tired of computers where all I do's Facebook
I want to revert to the quiet life of my ancestors
I want the warmth of watching the stars
I want to eat beef steamed in Earthenware
Beef with the touch of smoke and of love and care
I'm tired of the modern meat whose source is never clear
I want a meal served hot on her knees complemented by millet beer
I want a home, a real home with an artful grass thatched house
A traditional home with a hound for me and a cat in case of any Mouse
I'm fed up of the modern roofs which roast as if we're pork
I want an affair that's free of silly social media talk
I want a place she and I can have peaceful evening walks
And her eyes not having to watch out for cars
I want someone simple enough to pride in her scars
Open and proud of her weaknesses,one laughter sincerely chokes
I want someone whose thighs will be warm hidden
Someone who won't dare do the forbidden
Not one who'll go at dusk and return at dawn
I want not a queen for that will make me her pawn
Someone who'll give me a massage,not send me to the parlors
One who's content and natural, not painted in colors
Who’ll together with me do laundry, not a laundry machine
I want someone who'll be contented with the little beard on my chin
I want a life like that of my grand father
Small family, moderate success, a wife who isn't a bother
I want a simple life that will give even my enemies peace
I want Africa; I want a bit of my heritage, just a piece
I want that life frozen in sphinx and sculpture
I want to busk in the glory of African culture
 Jun 2015
Pax
The day I stop dreaming
     is when I started my progress…

I never really understood to why, oh why
do we have to start a living?

In the city of progress, I became the mindless puppet
Of what we call ‘the clichés of society’
FOR NOW - I’m totally blind in all five senses
    to where my love should be place in…

From a specific today, I am robbed for my silence
Totally alone never wanted nor even needed
Conceivably A misplaced person in a ‘crazy world’
- or it is just me who thinks this way.

Sometimes I would think no one would ever really captured
                          - ‘the essence of my heart’
Or probably it was just me, who never did take noticed.
Guessing I am too
  - Perverse to feel anything within the walls of my five senses.

Despite everything else, I understood how Society lives by.
The imaginable ways it burdens and pleasure in
–> Giving –> Receiving –> Showing –> US
                                                         how life works with their walls.

I could never blame how our world becomes a harsh place,
Yet I could took the blame on US
   or our humanity is too faulty consecutively.
Too many Securities from any Insecurities.
Walls upon Wall of their Owning Glory,
      Almost nothing is free.

So I stand chained from cultural responsibilities,
for we were made to think this way.

Ashamed of what I discovered
So I hide in the covers of my pen
To write, just write,
A Written voice for the fallen..

A friend told me “I think life ends when a man stops from breathing and also when he stops from dreaming. What will keep us moving if we no longer have holds to aspirations, to hope...”

Then my friend, Kalypso answered a big part of it in her review on what I am talking about in this piece, she said: “being a dreamer for so long, having to pull my head and heart out of the clouds and start the mundane process every day, over and over again, would bring me into this realm of thinking. Wondering why we do ...what we do? What is the purpose of working just to pay bills and survive, but barely live? Feeling like I disappeared in the process of becoming an adult and taking on responsibilities. Having no time to explore the world. To ponder the mysteries of life...or capture the beauty of everything around us. How the monotony takes away your creativity and individualism, blends you into society, almost making you invisible.”

Then Rachelle’s questions arise saying: “Do we grumble? Do fall into a deeper pit of despair or do we try to figure out how to transform our reality such that the world is exciting and challenging again?”

With all those thoughts arises from my poem, I came to understand that despite I stop dreaming big, I still hold on to the little hope and a hint faith I have on myself that someday, in some way a dream could rise again from the burned pages of my bucket list.

I am thankful that I have find/found friends in my writings.
So I appreciate everyone who reads me, greatly....

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/willyampax/1336541/
 Jun 2015
Cristina Dean
blared a fired shot
wept like falling feathers
in dawn's light
 Jun 2015
poetessa diabolica
A New York City state of mind
   stagnating a pretty face,
one in a crowd of thousands

  had big billboard dreams
    dressed to the nines
        in expectation's
              high class perfection

   barefaced realizations'
        disrobed an illusion - -

                          *
'neath harsh spotlights of reality
Next page