Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Mar 2016
Harry Randle-Marsh
You’re your own idea
written in blood and electricity.
You’re Pulcinella. You’re judy.
You’re someone else’s description
of light
imagined alive.
You’re temporary.
You’re the dream in a Jivaro head.
There’s the ceiling of a skull
just above your clouds
and even further out
there's another.
You’re pock-marked, wood-wormed
with thoughts,
words,
that you’ve been taught
on you, like tattoos
and shared birthmarks.

You’re picture-framed
in my eye sockets
flipped and made
understandable
and only some of you
oozes
through
like the sun
below the surface of the sea.
You’re me
and i’m you
swirling in each other’s boundaries
like the Tao and oily water
and the point between the colours in rainbows.
You’re infinite to mayflies.
You’re an explosion’s leftovers.
You died last time I saw you
and reformed in the doorframe
when I came around again.
You’re the world’s re-used love letter
from ****** to organised organism
incubated in original sin
the kiln
making Russian dolls from living things.
You’re the seed of a ghost.
You only existed since this morning
and yesterday’s you woke up
and is now out haunting.
You’re both here, and there, and here
a string vibrating
a seismograph
a tree ring
Earth’s music
playing
and playing
and playing.
All the things I know about people I don't know.
 Feb 2016
Amanda Stoddard
My sky came crashing down on a saturday night
I looked outside myself and saw the mess I made of it.
My bones were shattered and my psyche torn apart
I never thought I would let it get this far.
Maybe if I stopped myself from loving-
pumped the brakes and stopped
to look both ways
things would've turned in a different direction for me
But I suppose I wasn't supposed to break-
that just sent me into a hydroplane
because everything I know of is drowning.
Maybe if I wouldn't have been so distracted
so worried about losing sight of the road
the fatal crash wouldn't have taken place.
But I am here, bleeding and broken
and you are there
looking, staring from the outside of this ambulance
when all I wanted was for you to
hold my hand through this car ride
I'm not sure I'll make it out of alive.
You just mouthed the words "I'm sorry"
and the paramedic kept on driving
I watched you pretend I wasn't hurting.
These crashes happen often
because I was never good at controlling things-
the pattern repeats every time
another sorry slips from your lips
and I wonder if you care to know
how bad this actually is.
It was like before the storm
all you knew was my happy
and when it rains
you don't seem to know me.
You don't want to get your feet wet
but I've brought you umbrellas
on days when you were so under the weather
you couldn't seem to get up-
took your hand and held it until the sun came again.
But the storms keep coming for me
and when I try to convince you they will pass
I don't think you believe me anymore.
I know I am unpredictable
and overwhelming-
that these tires are too worn now
to handle this kind of weather-
but I am driving anyway
heading into an unknown direction anyway
because I know when I get there
the sun will be shining
but I'm not sure if you'll be there to share that with me.
You're stuck on I'm sorry's and apologies
for things they aren't your fault.
You can't control the weather-
but it would be nice if you could bring me an umbrella
it would be nice if we could see the sunshine together
but you're stuck in reverse
longing for a path you can no longer take.
I'm tired of waiting for your reign to be over.
llover in spanish is to rain, so I put the parenthesis to incorporate the word lover.
 Jan 2016
Karina Norris-Veirs
A small pebble of grief lodges into my skin
Splintering it, not yet cracked
A waft of sadness floats upon the splinter
Cracking my being
Working it's way from my chest, up to my neck, my face, my head
Down my stomach, my legs, my feet
My arms, my hands
Spidering it's way over my body
As though I am a marble statue hit with the mason's hammer
From this I shatter into pieces
Unrecognizable
I spew into the air
My sobs carry myself with the four winds
I shall never be whole again
Grief,  such a shattering thing...
 Dec 2015
moss
Their freedom to tell their depths is now confined to a week.
But despite the propaganda, they are still afraid to speak.
On the outside, they are perceived as nothing but freaks.
On the inside, their lives are catastrophic, yet also bleak.

From their mountains of anxiety to their valleys of depression,
Nobody wants to listen to their pleading expressions.
They're forced to hold down their feelings with constant suppression.
So desperate to become invisible, it becomes an obsession.

As if their sickness was not as legitimate as one of the physical kind
Just because it plagues their body on the inside of their mind.
Behind their daily masks, they are continuously confined,
And the rest of their lives will be wrapped in a box and predefined.

They often wish things were how they saw them: nothing being real.
They use third person pronouns to describe how they feel
Because, whether they like it or not, they aren't made of steel,
But continue to futilely dance around the solar system's wheel.
I meant to post this earlier in the week, but I've been busy. Supposedly, this was "Mental Health Week" in case you weren't aware. It really bothers me that it's such a social taboo to talk about mental illness any other week of the year, and even during that week, it seems most people are just helping "raise awareness" by retweeting or sharing, but it's still always something that no one wants to admit that they themselves have problems with as if it's not as legitimate as some physical ailment like the flu or even cancer if you want to take it that far. The more people distance themselves from a problem, the more distant it will seem, and then the people who have those problems will seem more distant, producing the opposite effect that was intended. Good grief, do we need a special day/week/month for everything?
 Dec 2015
Aztec Warrior
I Fell In Love With You**

I fell in love with you
slowly,
syllable by syllable,
word by word,
poem by poem
imagining the moon’s
dancing affair with stars,
twinkle by twinkle.
And then
all at once
like the explosion
of a super nova
affecting distant galaxies
and down to my very soul.
~~~
I fell in love with you gently,
the way a dew drop
glistens in the morning sun,
the way a flower often opens
to a moonlit song.
~~~
But like all love worth holding,
it turns to fire-
raging,
uncontrolled,
wild and consuming;
you have become the flames
dancing across my skin,
smoldering brightly
within my heart
turning me into the sweet smell of ash.
~~~
I fell in love with you
slowly
then quickly,
the way a meteor flashes
as it skims across the night sky
or hearts melt
within an ******* sigh.
I fell in love with you.
Sorry.

Aztec Warrior 12.4.15
forgot to add the music.. enjoy
https://youtu.be/cHg-Zkwndqg
Next page