Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2020
Poetic T
They think that cos they wearing badges that
its power, feeling it be like they wild west.
          thinking they catching outlaws.

When they the ones letting the shots hit unarmed
                                           hands on his head.
but they not moving as he shouted gun.

It wasn't even a mobile, they just trigger happy
                       in blue as the family was in black.

Tears aren't bringing his last word back,
                       Mum, Daddy,
last cherished thought his baby girl.
Tears fell silent as they had knees on his neck,
                         what the **** he dead
yet you thinking he needs cuffs,
                                   morality took a side step.

No one is on their knee no more,
         hands held at height trying
to reach the fallen to show that they
still being reached for.

I promise we ain't forgetting any fallen,
       we'll reach high walking the streets.
   They ain't holding pistols to this many.

Hands-on heads showing peaceful metaphors,
          we shouldn't have to be scared
of a badge that's meant to protect
                               not a knee on a neck.


Or a gunshot on an unarmed person,
                   due to his demographical heritage.
                     another fell like a tree in a forest.

But every flower has a camera and nothing
falls silently anymore.
 Oct 2020
jdmaraccini
I smite her without a flicker of remorse.

Web caught trembling prey, blistering sadness in a shallow grave.
Repulsive, rotten ***** stench, locked box of putrid sorrow.
Blood clot hidden trench, vile secretion burrow.
Wolf dressed goblin ***** muttering incantations.
Teetering on a broken fence, seething hatred regurgitation.
Greedy, evil, spineless, *****, cunning, patient, *****.
One head desire, two face succubus,
speech craft forked tongue, slithering witch, foul gargoyle.
Rebuke venomous, castrate hung, stoke the funeral pyre.
Incubate the serpent fetus, demon, devil, liar.
Nevermore sinister toil, bone-covered soil.
Death to the succubus,
death to Venus.
JDMaraccini
2013
 Oct 2020
Poetic T
People think,
    "I Love You,

is the most romantic
                     word.

But in truth,
          "I've Missed you,

means true love.
 Oct 2020
Poetic T
Life is not wealth but
                         moments.

For wealth can easily be lost.

   But moments always last a lifetime.
 Oct 2020
Poetic T
I wish every day was a Friday,
that seven-day repetition that
        I no your walking through
my door, no looking back...

Were here all night a 2.5 fraction
of a week where theres just me
             and you, just us....

Runing a 4.5 day missing you
    to a weekend of just us
through the minutes to hours
            to the where did this
                                    weekend go.

The alram sounds, then the race
             to the end of the weekned
starts,finishing as we count mistakes
     of days that we catch on to a friday.

Your here now, were sorry I missed you,
              but the weekend is ours..
  no leaving, were just us, me and you.

            I've missed more than just your body,
           missing your breath on me,
                but now were here in this moment,

long live every weekend when your next to me.
 Sep 2020
Poetic T
If you masturbated a hedgehog,
  
which ***** would you
                make stiff first..


And how many schlongs
                      could you handle at once..

Wow thats deep....
 Sep 2020
PrttyBrd
Audio File:  https://soundcloud.com/prttybrdpoetry/i-thought-i-could-swim-until-you-stopped-me-from-drowning

in the middle of my silent days
you ran interference through thoughts whose only purpose
was to run interference through
anything good
or possibly good
that made its way into the rotation
of random pain
keeping me rooted firmly
on the backhand of a smile

snapped in place like the snapping of
my bra in the hands of middle school
boys that found it awkward to walk
when my puberty
kick-started theirs

so, 'SNAP'
there goes my dignity in that
seemingly innocent violation
that no one ever calls by name
where silence gives them permission
to make fun of my already mortifying
body changes that
took me from innocent and invisible
and ****** me into the spotlight so no one would notice
the way they were mortified
with their own reactions to my puberty

I hid behind oversized sweaters and sarcasm
never looked a boy in the eye
stopped talking
so maybe I could
pretend I was invisible and happy
or at least not naked
beneath these people who stole from me
without repercussions...

it lingers...

fast forward
through being made painfully aware that a size 10 was massive compared
to all my size 5 friends
but they were 5'2" not almost 5'8"
they still looked like a board
not a pinup girl from old-timey calendars
but fat is fat wherever it happens to land under thin skin
collecting into silent reservoirs
of self-loathing ammunition...

it lingers...

fast forward
through the first time 'no' held no meaning
shocked into silence and tears
still whispering... please...don't
as words were less weapons and more entrapment
where a body betrays in unwanted reactions
used as proof against my truth
or my perception of truth
or...it must be true because if I
really didn't want it...
but fear and panic can garner the same
physical responses as passion
and it would be too many years before I knew that...

it lingers...

fast forward
to the last time I knew I was beautiful
and the only time I ever let a friend
convince me that going home with these guys was ok
she wanted company and
she was my ride
she never did get lucky

I...
got a cracked sternum where his chin held me down
I kept my voice this time
but the music was so loud
my words remained unheard
no still held no meaning
my wrist bruised in his hand
one hand frantically stretching clothes out of the way
while my free hand struggled frantically
to keep those same clothes at my waist
but...
spandex is unkind on so many levels

somewhere in this fight with his
knees bruising my calves into position
he was thoughtful enough to
somehow, someway
utilize a ******, whose wrapper
never made into the trash
I know this as I followed my friend's
gaze first to the shiny torn package
then twist into what looked like pride
and on the way home
before the bruises turned purple
I told her... and she laughed

it lingers...

she said if that were true
and he stopped to put on a ******
why didn't I escape his hold
but his grip never changed
and when he took those 3 seconds
to rip it open with his teeth...
I was trying to wriggle free and keep my shorts up
and scream over music playing way too loud
I couldn't look at her
or show her the bruises when they appeared
I shouldn't have to prove myself to a friend
I lost more than my dignity
on my 21st birthday...

it lingers...

But at least I knew I didn't deserve it...
that time
but if I wasn't pretty or thin or
anything remotely attractive
maybe it would never happen again
but...

fast forward
to wisdom earned and extra curves
but hating oneself never diminishes
without draining that pool of self-loathing

so, fast forward
present-day and my mom's voice mocks my dreams
she always told me that, when they care,
what I look like doesn't matter
but...

she never mentioned what would happen
if I was the one who didn't care
I learned that when I can't see past
my incessant imperfections
that I'd never believe anyone would notice
when I try to drown myself
in that pool of past truths
that my withdrawal into the
abyss of pain
could possibly ever matter
if it doesn't even matter to me
but...

it lingers...

and every time I hide from the world
masking my pain with silence
stepping out of the way trying not to
burden people with my shame and weakness
I still cannot fathom
if when the people that crawl into my skin
ripping my truth into that pool of lies
can't be bothered noticing my silence
searching for a safe-enough distance
then, how could... why would... anyone else

See,
I've grown accustomed to not mattering
to myself
trained into the seeming safety of silence
where I grate my self-esteem
on the very invisibility I had longed for
so many years ago

I care so much
but it never makes sense
when someone cares enough to notice anything I do,
especially when I'm trapped in my own darkness
but to bring it to my attention is so rare
that I find myself absolutely perplexed

I don't know what it's like to be seen
or... I didn't
but...
you saw me
you saw my distance
and tried to understand my pain
you told me I changed
and answered when I asked you
to tell me how

I am invisible
it's how I cope with heartache and broken trust
disappointment and pain
unfortunately, it's also how I cope
with personal joy and
anything that might resemble pride

I feel, but the invisibility...
it lingers...

so, today...
when in the middle of my silent days
or weeks or who knows how long
I've been drowning in the abyss in slow motion...
today, you ran interference through thoughts
whose only purpose
was to run interference through
anything good
or possibly good
that made its way into the rotation
of random pain
keeping me rooted firmly
on the backhand of a smile

your honesty, reflecting the truth that
I'm likely the only one who
actually doesn't notice my own withdrawal into isolation
was as surprising as that first
snapping of my bra
but I found my voice enough
to apologize for the shame I didn't earn
yet so freely project onto everyone
touched by the perception of invisibility
in which I hide
but you saw me
and proved I am not invisible
you cared enough to notice
and...

it lingers
82720
1099w
Audio File:
https://soundcloud.com/prttybrdpoetry/i-thought-i-could-swim-until-you-stopped-me-from-drowning
 Jul 2020
Poetic T
Mindful of others, but always deeper in thought.
You call it the folly of an inquiring mind,

Concern some may say diving to deeply
unsure of where this may take me.
Regarding the complexity of a frame.
I just see more than those who
open a door, and only see the other side.
So if the the hinges hold it what was behind.
Is it wrong to have an interest in more
than what others see as normal without
yearnings to find out what was, what's more.

Where I wished to delve deeper was only
an excuse for others to want it to wither.
never would I intrude, but my searching
eventually causes some unintended pain.
So I relent, I'm curious of the outcome some say.
 Jun 2020
Poetic T
I had a path that at no time intersected
                            with others footsteps.
              Never would I walk on the
degradation of there choosing.

Because,
            if later on they had made a misstep.


I would ultimately be the lemming falling  
                                                with veins cut,
falling into the same inevitable ending...

Every footprint shifts after we have put
                       our weight on that decision.
That this was the right course of action...


             But we were a conveyor that feed
the lie of life that every step was always
                                                            well trod.

We would always finish off with a life well
      walked, but the truth was.
That some laces were untied and some fell.

Some would never reach the ending,
        let alone the beginning of the path..

For our steps are always shifting,
   and  everyone is never the same..
 May 2020
Poetic T
Seen in the distance,
        beauty glistened
though ocean waves..

"Help me please,

                              She smiled,
  as she dragged him under...
 May 2020
Poetic T
Misplaced deliberations,
        oh where did  I leave you?

Like mislaid socks,
              I wear
mismatched thoughts

nicely fitting but not right.
 May 2020
Camellia-Japonica
I wondered today if anyone was recording in high definition this World in caution? kisses banned, so’s holding hands, but wash your hands a lot or you might miss to ‘Out that ****’d spot’.

How apt, a spot, a circle, a corona, isn’t that a beer? Let’s all now cheer for key workers, clap for nurses the NHS, let’s forget what started this mess, was it China? A pangolin? A Mandarin?

Conspiracy theories abound, they’re all doing the rounds, oh look it snuck back in, abound, around, they’re all circular sounds, circle back to the start, wash your hands.....’Out that ****’d spot’.
© JLB
15/05/2020
20:41 BST
With eyes closed,
particularly after never
mine lips ne'er touching drink
I experience replete surreal visualizations

vividly pronounced heightened, augmented
mental journey virtual realistic brink
particularly the following link
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1ZYbU82GVz4

yours truly (i.e. me)
enters sweeping dream state,
whose (ahem this modest) great human
experienced way after hundredth wink
no mean feet recherché special effects
haint no rinky ****
trick the average kindergartener could think,
quite the contrary skeptical reader!

Impossible mission yours truly,
could never describe for dogness sake
no,... NOT even after I make
transition back into webbed
oft times trumpeted as "fake"
wide world of consciousness

mere seconds eyes of mine ache...
dumbfoundedly blink awake,
yet cerebral impact analogous
exiting hypothetical dark cave
eyes painfully adjust to light
no mutter me noggin I soberly shake

Socratic dialogue - described
even today (across swaths,
where silently occur
metaphorical tectonic Earthquake)
of college/university students far and wide
with mooch hoopla and rave
communicated, viz out fancy schmancy

rhyme nor reason courtesy
one cereal lactose intolerant flake
courtesy within Plato's Republic
(worth rereading even
non political science majors ought
to give revered literature fair shake.

'Course aye haint here to lecture
but moostly strive to enlighten
hmm... methinks most likely bore
extemporaneously spewing pablum
also aiming to appeal toward
self accomplishment less or more

before tonight April 23rd, 2020
becombs tomb morrow,
with unbeknownst notion I explore
which aspiration to craft daily poem
constitutes what endeavors apt (guaranteed)

to find thee into deep sleep
cocking mine ear to hear ye snore,
no matter bajillion miles away your
respective dwelling from mine -
now (at long last), similar to the night before,

(Christmas), I hightail out - with minor confession
where Matthew Scott Harris doth
strive to become substance of legendary folklore
(hence no need to utter vamoose)
with cheery bonjour!
Next page