Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Mar 2016
Caitlin
Don't get me wrong,
the mushy- gushy, shy tender first moments of love are important.
But too many people have spent their lives writing about it.
Comparing the beginning of love to:
budding flowers,
sunrise,
summer,
the list goes on and on.
I say this not to be critical, as I too have spent hours writing about first encounters, and awkward yet tender first kisses and the beginning of love stories.
But I will spare you another poem about the honeymoon phase.

Society teaches us that "love" is always romantic and it's not real if it doesn't look and feel like a Nicholas Sparks novel.
If we aren't feeling butterflies and being swept off our feet, then it isn't worth our time.
Or, that our partner is wrong for us, if these attributes should fade over time.

However, I have learned that society's version of love, is the version that sells, it's embellished to attract the masses.
At the end of the day sometimes all love is,
someone who checks up on you,
someone who asks about your day and is genuinely interested.
It's the person who has your back through thick and thin,
who would never abandon you because they are angry or disappointed in you.

It's time we as a society look a bit deeper than the surface of such a complex emotion and understand that love isn't always about blushing and stealing kisses in the dark.
It's also about having a hand to hold, when you feel like it's you against the world.
It's time we let the honeymoon phase become a perk, but not the definition of love.
first poem in a while, sorry it's so long
Today is Self-Harm Awareness Day.
Wear orange to show your support.
To Self Harm survivors thank you for being a constant light
in a world that can be so dark.
To those currently struggling with Self Harm
I want you to know that you are more
than just the cuts and scars on your arms.
You are a warrior
and you have so many people including myself
cheering you on.
You will get through this struggle.
I believe in you.
You are greatness who will one day change the world.
Stay strong!
Keep fighting!
You got this!
I love you!
Sending you a million hugs and more!
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: March. 1, 2016 Tuesday 11:29 AM
 Feb 2016
Sjr1000
When
cheaters and liars
rise to the top of the polls

When genocidal speech
wanna be torturers
let their goals unfold
advocating killing relatives
Something every drug lord knows

When words don't mean anything
Images are everything
When words and images disconnect
When words don't work

It's what we call psychosis
in the psych biz

We're all thinking
That can't happen here

A cousin they call Germany
Refined
Civilized
Educated
Defined art
Music
Ethics

Found out exactly what every **** head
knows when you go too far
There's gonna be advanced window patrol
Getting out the duct tape
Wrapping up the house
Can't let any light
in or out
You may end up in leather restraints
On a plastic sheet on a metal bed

America better call the crisis hotline
Stand in line for same day services

5150/Legal 2000/72 hour commitment
Being a danger to self and others
Rapidly becoming gravely disabled

Hold on, I'll write that Hold now

Bring out the atypicals
Risperdal Zyprexa Serequil
Take an Ativan
Take a Zanax
**** it take a ******

If you don't come back down now
Find the ground

You'll be okay
In a decade or three
The suffering of course
Will be burns in the third degree

Psychosis can be unkind

All civilizations have their day
Incline
Recline
Decline

It can't happen here?
Chaotic brutality knocking on the door
You gotta know what's in store

We need an intervention
Breathe it back on in
It can still be okay

Reality check

Words sometimes mean something
And people sometimes mean what they say

And though
Images dissolve
Evolve
Fracture and split

Those that are seeing and hearing
What's going on
are holding their breath
Wondering how crazy it's really all gonna get.
 Feb 2016
Jeremy Bean
I read back my tales of sadness
and smile on them now
Less focused on the madness
I carried on my brow
I've lived
I've loved
I've lost
I've died
I've been both low and high
reflecting on those days and nights
I've never been more alive.
 Feb 2016
Crysta Gingras
For you I’ll stay safe
And travel softly
I’ll drive real slow
And won’t steer with my knee
For you I’ll be gentle
On the curves around the road
I promise to be careful
No reason to forebode
For you I’ll get there in one piece
I won’t go racing
My speed I’ll decrease
I am not “just saying”
I promise to you
I will be safe,
Simply
For you
For my Angel
 Feb 2016
Pearson Bolt
denizen of the Internet's darkest corner
surfacing momentarily to spew vitriolic
misogyny before disappearing once more
returning to whatever hell you call home

warmer hearts than mine
might muster the compassion
to show you a kindness
**** like you neither
appreciate nor deserve

but not me
i will not tear you
limb-from-limb
regardless of the
sick fantasies i
treasure in my brain

no
i'll meet you in
this abyss and cut
you to pieces with
a tongue sharper
than any sword
until you fall upon
my words like the
shameful craven and
dishonorable coward
that you are

you fancy yourself
a misanthropist but
you didn't create
the darkness you
merely inherited
it from me

you're a putrescent infant
nursing your enmity and harboring
hatred for yourself above
all else and it's not
difficult to see why

chauvinist pig
slave to a hyper-masculine ego
the rhetoric you spit is
simultaneously solipsistic
self-contradictory and self-defeating
you've backed yourself into a corner
your throat is the open grave in which
i will bury you alive

i only wish there was a devil who might
give you an eternity of the attention
you crave but i'll suffice to be the one to
pull the noose tight and watch with
mirth as you kick and spin and gasp
and shudder and splutter for breath
your flesh goes blue and your eyes
roll back into your skull searching for a
brain turned to mush
riddled with maggots

and on the day that you
lie dormant and friendless
paralyzed on your deathbed
i will be the loneliness
reminding you that you got
just what you deserve

don't **** with my best friend
This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along
 Feb 2016
lluvia de abril
He was a man who stopped time
stretch a second in love
as much as he wanted

This was not the case
for Saturday traffic
he left before she got there

Sitting at the corner table
she ordered a cup of coffee
-for here-
in case he returns for that napkin
that napkin inscribed in chocolate

"I waited, you never got here
this flower is yours, if it's alive
when you find it
water it"

She did and drove home
against traffic with just a note
and a flower

Oh, if only the man that stops time
could also take care of traffic!
I do hope everyone finds this one funny. I have been told many times that my sense of humor is simply off, but I keep trying ;)
i know you're hurting.
deep inside
your soul is yearning
and the only things that runs through your mind like
a brake~less train on tracks
are reckless ways of ending your life.
reckless ways of forfeiting this fight.
you say you won't give up
but then you double~check
and realize
you just might...
sigh
do you ever dream of dying while you're wide awake?
do you ever sit back and wonder
when and how fate will finally take..
when fate will finally take you?
i know that feeling..
that feeling of loss
hope
remorse
grief
bipolar
guilt
shame
screams and sighs
i know..
i know how this feels..
the heartbreak,
the feeling that your life will forever
be lived in shame.
which life am i living?
the one i was born into?
.....
or the life I'm ****** to live?
....
*thinks
Next page