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17.0k · Jul 2016
Dear Mr. Trump, (haiku)
Devin Lawrence Jul 2016
WE don't need to make
America great again;
SHE makes us all great.
3.9k · Apr 2016
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
Some people want a legacy
like the lion:
its roar is loud and rich in pride.

I want a legacy like the lilacs gracing her neck:
soaked in desire,
and laced with something unmistakable.
Puns and poetry
3.1k · Oct 2015
From Head to Toe
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
tilted to the side.
She blushes;
She's clay to the touch,
Flesh to the mind.

My fingers,
like passengers aboard the Santa Maria,
explore a new world-
Every inch,
Every crevice,
Every curve;

She's the Venus de Milo-

like a ribbon
fluttering downward,
pulled from her hair
by lover's passion.

Her ******* are molded-
islands along the ocean I swim-
and an art form is born;
The simple movements:
Well thought out,
but not choreographed.

Color her
like the Roses on my tongue;
Entangled and Infatuated,
They speak of Youth,

Step back
and She blossoms to life.
A monument lays before me;
the mortal
achieve immortality.

from her
to her
2.5k · Mar 2016
Red Lips
Devin Lawrence Mar 2016
Bold and blunt;
soft, and we romanticize the taste.
Tracing the curves -
valleys among mocha plains -
and passion reverberates
deep within the shade.

Innocence is corrupted
(we've all reached for forbidden fruit)
and it tastes as sweet as
You pass yourself off to be.

The draw of your baby blue eyes and
the pink of your naked lips
offer a look into what you used to be
or might have been.

But I suppose some sort of
came around and darkened the tint;
seductive and sultry,
and everybody wants a chance...

And I bet You know it.
2.3k · Mar 2016
The Truth
Devin Lawrence Mar 2016
is a lie perceived
through the lens of those willing
to accept none else.
2.3k · Nov 2015
Bubblegum Kisses
Devin Lawrence Nov 2015
Waking up,
The smell of strawberries
Marries the air
And infatuates me into
An early morning's lust;
I'm in paradise.

Holding your hand,
Fingers intertwined,
As the radio plays
And we stay with the beat.

Leaning in,
This is the moment;
Strawberries flood
My tastebuds,
And then you blew a bubble to the size of your face.

Bathing in bubbles
That are scent-less,
And I'm senseless
And my hands roam
And your mind leaves this world.

A fire burns
And seven bodies
Bare witness to newborn
And I swear a star was too.

But I'll never see that star.
That taste seems so vague.
I came in and burst your bubble-
Tastes sweet
Until the flavor faded.

So here we are,
A bubblegum kiss later,
With a layer between us.
1.8k · Sep 2016
My Aspirations
Devin Lawrence Sep 2016
Validity is all I seek,
Or perhaps
I have invested all my life into a
Devilish lie.
1.8k · May 2016
Devin Lawrence May 2016
You are the cause of your own suffering*
I tell myself everyday,
but I still bathe in silt and shame.
Rinse. Recycle. Repeat.

I tell myself everyday
how mundane it is to be redundant:
Rinse. Recycle. Repeat.
Everybody that looks at me sees

how mundane it is to be redundant.
You only get one masterpiece;
everybody that looks at me sees
that's not a rainbow, it's an oil spill.

You only get one masterpiece,
but I still bathe in silt and shame -
that's not a rainbow, it's an oil spill.
You are the cause of your own suffering.
1.6k · Oct 2015
On A Beach
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
A girl bathes in the sunlight in a
Bright red bikini - the kind of red of some lipstick that
caught your attention at the mall.
**** the men passing her by, absorbing
every detail of her body.
Few have felt her touch, that
glorious touch. The touch I’ve grown to
hate with everything
I keep bottled up inside. She likes to play
jokes on a hopeful heart; stealing
kisses from the
lips of a boy, still learning to be a
Man- an idea my father
never taught me, not because of a lack of
opportunity, but because he never figured it out himself. She  
played my mind like the piano keys she used to
quell the
reoccurring thoughts in her mind: those of
self-abuse and insecurities.
To feel wanted and loved, she
uses the attention of those staring eyes as she bathes in ultra
violet rays, questioning if the
water is a comfy kind of cold, much like the
X’s and O’s placed lovingly at the bottom of the note that ended
years of dedication, years of forgetting our uncertainties.

Zero degrees couldn’t be colder than that.
Inspired by Mary Szybist's "Girls Overheard While Assembling a Puzzle."
1.3k · Jul 2016
Devin Lawrence Jul 2016
I'm so tired of fighting....

When is screaming going to heal?
When will the cold keep us warm?
Using words like needles
though your heart is plush with love;
why do you push
and then ask me to pull?

This love is ripe.
This love is sweet -
just like the fruits of our latest nights -
and yet we are so sour.
You can throw quarrels and daggers
laced with spite and cyanide,
but then what can be done
when your fruits shrivel
and die?

When your mind clear,
as too is your path,
and I'm always there
waiting on the other side.

I'm so tired of fighting,
but I'd only sleep with you.
So keep this room sacred,
and let the only noise heard
be the sounds that lips make
when they dance with each other.
1.2k · Sep 2016
Devin Lawrence Sep 2016
Superheroes inspire us all,
superheroes make us marvel.
Superheroes are adored
from Beijing to Washington D.C.

But superheroes don't wear capes,
they wear a '96 Olympic shirt
and loose-fitting pants
you would never catch me in.

They don't have x-ray vision,
they've worn glasses
for as long as you remember.
They cannot fly,
and yet they seem larger than life.

They never seem to lie,
and they still say "I love you"
in the exact same way
almost sixty years after they bound it to eternity.

They don't have super-strength,
but they are your super strength
and they lift you up
until you can do it on your own.

They seem invincible,
but life has a way of reminding you
that even Superman has Kryptonite.

They are stubbornly steady
even when the bill of health
isn't clean.
Just as they are your strength,
you feel your aching mortality
when you find out
even superheroes get cancer.

Yet somehow,
after their greatest battle is fought,
there they are in all that remains
spreading an unyielding light
upon whoever sees them soaring by.

We wear an "S", a bat,
or even a spider
to pretend that we are our heroes
and emulate their image;
but I won't wear that old shirt,
or those terrible, worn-in jeans.
I'll harness that unbreakable spirit,
and maybe one day
I'll be a superhero too.
I love you Papa.
1.2k · Mar 2016
Devin Lawrence Mar 2016
You think you're golden.

You're just a delicious lie wrapped in false promises.

And like the gratification of the taste,
Your pleasures are fickle and temporary.

You can fake the shine -
Polish the luster of your smile -
But any open eye can decipher what's real
And you're not.

You think you're golden
And you are.
Fool's gold always has value
As long as fools shall search.
953 · Nov 2015
Devin Lawrence Nov 2015
My mind wanders off;
She's cloaked in infinity.
Then she says, "hello."
I write haikus
Just like you.
923 · May 2016
Devin Lawrence May 2016
Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
sitting on top of a sand dune
under the lights
of the Fourth of July.

                                         The water below
                                         cast the reflection of beautiful chandeliers
                                         bursting with color,
                                         and as timeless as sand,
                                         and yet my eyes were elsewhere -
                                         capturing something unlike I'd ever seen.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
laying on a couch as I held her,
she turned to me and smiled;
the chandeliers were bold and raucous
as they decorated the sky of my mind,
and the stars twinkled in the depths of her eyes -

                                        that memory since faded with time.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
the pen in my hand
gave birth to words and worlds
made from my reflection
like they were my children -
and I had always feared

                                               I created places I'd never seen,
                                               but they were as real as sand,
                                               and for a moment,
                                               I felt like God:
                                               watching from above
                                               as my creations began to breathe.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
living on a page of black and white,
if I was God,
she was an angel,
and the song from her trumpet
reminded me of the chandeliers
I thought were lost in time.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I don't know if I ever have,
but what I have is something
that gives me a reason to be;

                                                 Something beautiful
                                                 and intricate
                                                 like a chandelier
                                                 whose glass was once
                                                 nothing more
                                                 than countless grains of sand.
I'm open to other title ideas, and by open I mean please give me ideas
908 · Apr 2016
Born Again
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
Death is an invitation;
it's a cycle that
makes a saint
from a snake,
though the venom still drips
from those pearly whites.

like the snow in a Michigan spring,
do we persist -
do we thaw,
or do we melt?

The apex of meaning
is found in the sweet of honey -
not the pursuit
of righteous gates;

like the green teasing from under the white,
there's always something more.
891 · Jun 2016
Devin Lawrence Jun 2016
There's more to this little brown bottle than the sunshine within,
and if you search across the hills of Kalamazoo
you'll find the meaning of gold.

Cheers to this:
the smell of barbecue and grass
and the taste of oranges drenched in ale
and sunlight.
As the fire crackles
and the flames move like the flags we claim,
I can hear each individual string
on a friend's guitar
as they tell a story of an everlasting summer.

When it's cold
the sun smiles and burns
as the sound of cannonballs piercing aqua blue waves
washes through your body
clad in pink
and fabrics
seen from many
and any
wandering eye.
As the hi-hat sizzles,
so too does your soul,
and that's why you can't help but
dance dance dance.

But just like any season,
this friendly brown bottle
is a moment in time.
Winter must come,
people must go,
but somewhere in the recipe for your favorite drink
are all of their names
glistening in gold.
From Kalamazoo, with love.
823 · Oct 2015
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
I knew a man once.
He taught me all that I know.
I never met him.
807 · Oct 2015
Craving (Haiku)
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
I've always craved you,
Like a dog gnawing on bones,
And I disappear.
807 · Apr 2016
Authority (haiku)
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
With words so empty
and backed by weaker resolve,
Sir, I won't comply.
To my professor, with love.
803 · Jun 2016
Devin Lawrence Jun 2016
Because you don't understand love,
I catch your attention
by speaking your language -
body and verbal.

You could've cried on my shoulder,
but you'd rather cry my name
as if you had ever longed to speak it.
"**** me",
for selling yourself short -
the heart costs more
than a single night
and a couple drinks.

A song from when you were young
tells of "a better touch, a better ****".
Legendary like the disco,
Sweetie, you had me.
And the irony is in the fact
you were never really in this scene.

You love it when it hurts,
you beg to be bruised,
then you wallow in grief
as you cry in the dark
all alone in a bed made for two.
They're selling a product
that's far over-produced;
it's not authentic,
it's cheap.
Be an artist,
be a God,
make love -
your tainted rose petals
could use another coat
and a little tender thought and care.

And just as you exclaim,
as you sink,
admire us high above
floating on Aphrodite's clouds.
752 · Apr 2016
Liquid Courage
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
To the girl sitting at the bar -
surrounded by bodies, but you're still alone -
please see the beauty they'll see
before they ever ask for your name.
Your smile is addictive
like this liquid courage
that frees our inhibitions,
and lets a rat sing poetry
to a hummingbird.

They don't care,
but I'm sure that you don't either.
But a face that pretty
with eyes as clear as your
gin and tonic,
and their intentions,
does not deserve
the ol' college
Walk of Shame.

The damndest thing
is that at the end of the night,
all you want is for someone to notice you,
to treat you like
how the music makes you feel.

I would buy a drink and your time,
I would point out the way
you grab your earlobe when you feel


But this game wasn't meant for me,
and I've heard that you want a player.

they all notice you.
The more you wear,
the less approachable you are.
So I ask:
Please see what they'll see
before they ever know your name.
This is what I do at the
725 · Oct 2015
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
One day
You find yourself
Holding onto dreams of old
And grasping at answers
Both old and new.

One day
You look in the mirror-
Time has passed you by-
And the only blame
Is yours.

One day
You feel drained,
Filled with “what if”,
With nothing to show.
What a shame.

One day
It comes together.
You see like you’ve never seen;
It’s so clear, now
You’re on your way.

One day
You find yourself
Wondering how you ever thought
You aren’t a star-
You’re a sunbeam.
718 · Apr 2016
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
When we met,
you were a caterpillar
and I was the most beautiful butterfly
you had ever seen.

Time passed,
and the layers of your cocoon
came calling down
as you emerged with colors I've never seen;
now I search for vibrant flowers
to bring these dull shades of mine
to life.
703 · Apr 2016
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
Whether the rain pours,
hail falls,
and mud seeps inside my shoes,
I always walk.

Whether there's a better,
easier way
to reach where I'm trying to go,
I always walk.

Whether there are hands extended
or faceless shame,
ever since the age of three
I always walk.

Whether you care,
whether the wind is at my back,
I've never been carried,
I always walk.

Even when my mother cries,
even if my father dies,
if my children are my own,
they will walk
close behind.

Whether love
or pollen
pollutes the air
and my red eyes can no longer see,
I will always walk.

Whether the song I sing
is one that you know,
or one that you don't care to hear,
I always walk.

Cars go rushing by,
people pass in silence.
Like the potholes you swerve to avoid,
I persist.

I fell once;
I crawled and begged for a hand,
but I was held down and convinced
I would never walk again.

Then I stood;
On that day,
with vindication in the breath I exhaled,
I swore to always walk -
and even God took note.
701 · Dec 2015
The Girl and Her Sketchbook
Devin Lawrence Dec 2015
She hovers
over a world
spilling from the edge of her
fine-tip pencil.
She breathes life into visions
only she had seen;
we may catch a glimpse
as each new line
creates a brand new reality;
She's like God
and this is Genesis.

I wonder
is this her passion,
or a talent she felt forced to nurture?
Does she draw her inspiration
from her imagination
or her reality?
Does she burn the pages
that weren't quite right?

Does she immortalize strangers
in the same way
that she now lives on this page?

I want to enter her world-
maybe escape for a while-
and see how she colors
her black and white

She reminds me of someone-
Someone I once intimately knew.
I see a spark of genius,
and a love for things
that she can easily erase.
694 · Jul 2016
Devin Lawrence Jul 2016
Back in the day
of youth and play
my dreams
and my reality
seemed so similar to me.
I'd get that deja vu
and the scene came true,
and I knew I'd make it through
because I had been in those shoes.

I learned to lucid dream -
I loved to control the seams -
and the characters around me
were creations of my animosity.
They reflected my thoughts and visions
under those pubescent conditions,
and yet I stayed one step ahead
by resting cozy in my bed.

Then time had passed,
roles recast,
and the settings changed -
a bigger bed, a room rearranged.
My dreams had changed course:
reality and fantasy divorced,
and each individual's face
lost its place
in the palette of my desires;
if a dream never comes true,
is it then considered a liar?
670 · Jan 2016
Why We Lie (haiku)
Devin Lawrence Jan 2016
A lie keeps the peace;
The truth would cause a chaos
That swallows us whole.
597 · Oct 2015
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
Red, Yellow, White, Black;
Elegance and artistry
For eternity.
By nature:
Flawless, incomparable.
A romantic gesture-
nervous and infatuated-

Desire and love,
Passion and pain.
A thorn in your side;
A color among the gray.
This is the one.
590 · Oct 2015
Love (haiku)
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
A chilling nothing.
Turn to where you used to be-
Empty bed and heart.
560 · Apr 2016
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
Not too hot,
not too cold,
I like purple
because it's bold.
It's royal, it's pure,
it's a daydream sky;
while purple and black take me back,
the watercolors dry.

I used to like blue
like typically boys do.
Calm, a primary color,
your favorite flavor, too.
I like the blue of jeans,
and the blue of a summer sky;
I like the blue of these little pills
that motivate me to try.
-But blue is too strong:
a frozen twilight leaves you bitter
as you march through the snow
protesting, but Mama didn't raise a quitter.
Plus blue comes in many shades -
indigo, teal, more than you'd believe -
and it's hard to think
while a crowd cheers for their favorite team.

My favorite team is red;
I see passion and pride
in this jersey I'll wear
long after I've already died.
I like red because its
shades grow richer
as you taste something
intoxicating like liquor;
the way it paints
those curves of desire
makes you wonder
if you'll ever get any higher.
-But I don't like red
because of his car and his truck,
and this blanket of mine
that he's never tucked.
And a sky dripping red
ignites a burning fear
like it's soaked in blood
and the Lord's tears.

So purple is mine,
and I cherish it like gold.
As violets bloom,
I see the truth like a secret untold.
Blue and red come together
and purple glory reigns;
I am a paintbrush
whose color never drains.
549 · Dec 2015
Devin Lawrence Dec 2015
Let the words flow naturally.

direct honesty.
Speak from the heart-
they can tell when you don't.

Something crafty,
a hidden double entendre;
Make them think about

A piece of your soul
served on fragile paper:
2-star meal from a 5-star chef.

Not good enough-

Good night.
545 · Dec 2015
Devin Lawrence Dec 2015
It's hard to sit on the throne
Of a palace built on paradise
When you are the king
of nothing.
539 · Dec 2015
The Poet
Devin Lawrence Dec 2015
"You are one in a million."
                                            - Then you realize
                                               that means there must be
                                                           ­          You.

So you worry,
You fret,
You wonder
What it takes to
stand                                                         ­                                                 apart.
U do thingz you can never 4get;

                                                          ­                           All just to be
                                                              ­                                              original.

You write and profess
about matters you hardly understand.

You torture yourself
s            t              r             e              t                c                      h
your limits.

You educate yourself
So to think
Like no one el$e ha$.

You adopt strange habits
In fluctuating,
                                                    ­                                        foreign
                 ­                         accommodations.
Then you
                                  r                  m       ­                                  e
                                               u                             l
                          c                                    ­       b
when it all
           ­                                                                 ­        You almost feel
                                                            ­                                 Original.

                                                     ­                       ...away...        

You change your name,
Take on a new identity-
One like they've never seen.
Bleach your personality
And sulk behind lifeless, purple hair-
Garishly placed among a black and white world-
While inhaling toxic fantasies
That suffocate-
No, wait, perhaps they liberate-
Those things that make you feel
and unique.

                                                        ­                                 You are the Original.

You are unlike any force ever know. You are the thunder's roar and the wolf's howl.
But you can't shake this ominous feeling:

                                         *You've become unoriginal
This is why I hand-write my works first....
539 · Aug 2017
Devin Lawrence Aug 2017
I'm a record
repeating all the same lines
hoping that you'll continue to sing along.
I'm a door unhinged
waiting for you to walk my way again.

You're a Gothic masterpiece;
a renaissance of imperfection
spilling over a lifeless canvass.
I sit with a pen
still in my hand.

I can't expect you to hear my every call,
I can't expect that you'll fix the threads that come undone.

If these words are my voice,
then this page is God's ear.
A prayer for what is broken
to be mended once more.
525 · Jan 2016
Devin Lawrence Jan 2016
I see you
staring from across the room,
but that twinkle in your eye
captivates me so,
I can't look away, too.

I'm uncharted,
You're a creation of my daydreams;
We're familiar strangers
like Adam and Eve
as we lust over this forbidden fruit.

I see a smile
and our lips are in sync -
curving upward
as our eyes shy away;
The things we do not know
won't stop us
as we travel to the edge
of each other's imagination.

             She likes to dance
as she twirls through my mind
like a dream from long ago.

That look
(I know where it leads, do you?)
gleaming from within
the meadows of her glistening,
expresses desire -
and she knows I'll succumb.
Tongue-tied and speechless,
I hope that she believes in fantasies, too.

You're one in a million,
and we're one-on-one;
The possibilities know no limit...

So let's keep them that way:
I'll remember you in fantasy,
and you can pretend that you knew me.
To the most beautiful stranger I'll never know again...
523 · Jan 2017
Devin Lawrence Jan 2017
I want to do something,
not for you,
something for me,
something gleaming with everlasting renown.

Throughout this fraction of life,
I have grazed this objective
like a lover's fingers
tracing the profound edge's
of the starving artist's spine;
I have tasted that moment of completion
but only in the smallest dose,
like that last drop
that collects around the bottle's rim.

I cannot say this life has been mediocre,
but I yearn for the exceptional.
I'm tired of seeing lesser fools
idolized by fools more talented than them.
I'm tired of the chorus,
let me write a new verse.

And though the greatest agony I bear
is that I may never reach that fabled nirvana,
I hold close the dreams
that make believers out of fools like me.
506 · Nov 2016
Devin Lawrence Nov 2016
By fear or by love,
you've got me frozen,
in perpetual awe
and I don't know
whether I should fight
or I should fly -

My darling,
you've clipped my wings.
502 · Jun 2018
Devin Lawrence Jun 2018
Like lightning in the distance,
you're a force I can't grasp,
can't fear nor admire.
I yearn to feel a zap,
a jolt of reality,
but I'm still standing under this lonely tree.

I've been searching for something like you,
and it seems like every time I catch a glimpse
I watch it vanish within the whisper of the wind.
It's like it never happened.

But it did.

I lay in bed
with someone who tells me
"you never give yourself up to love."
It kills me to admit
she's the most real thing I've ever had,
but the left side of the mattress
could just as soon
hold a vacancy I've always known.

The thunder calls out from the night sky,
and the clouds conceal those diamonds above.

I stare at a computer screen
wondering whether or not to pierce through the guarded unknown.
Some call it closure.
Some call it the path to pain.
I close the tab and find something else to dwell on.

It's just a name,
a title.
It's not like I'm the only one who feels this way.
But we all know you don't need to be isolated to feel alone.

Shortly before becoming the same,
I'll understand the difference between a storm
and a passing rain.
One day I may be the lightning,
cradling the thunder
and light the way through the clouds.

Until then,
I'll lay under this tree
and watch its leaves get carried off by the wind.
488 · May 2016
Devin Lawrence May 2016
How can it be
that you can have everything
and still want more?
Am I greedy when I ask
"is there anything else?"

How can it be
that the ties of friendship
can be undone?
Are they not elastic?
Aren't they impervious
to the ever-shifting sands of time
that weather meeker men
down to disassociated
piles of dust?

How can it be
that you can plant roots
that spread and intertwine themselves,
seemingly immune to any upward motion,
just to pluck them from the ground
that nurtured them for years
and place them somewhere
unlike anything they've ever known?

How can it be
that the world can hold so many secrets
and yet our instincts tell us
to discover the truth?
No secret was ever discovered
by trusting a single source;
like the threads of a dream-catcher,
we entangle ourselves in multiple realms
to capture what we seek.

I don't know which face means more:
the smiling ones
that coax me into song, and folly,
and memories as precious as time,
or the one blemished with melancholy
as it stares back at me
knowing there's so much more.

How can it be
that we have an imagination
as wide as the universe,
and yet we never dare
to find the borders?
483 · Sep 2016
Devin Lawrence Sep 2016
I stopped dancing
and started to sing
because the background
was never the place for me.
A song came out
with no rhythm or rhyme,

Lo and behold!
By the gift of my name,
poetry flowed through my veins.
Whether they were spoken or written,
the words were true,

and I shined this spotlight on you.
444 · May 2016
Till Death
Devin Lawrence May 2016
How could you ever love me to death?
What a morbid thought to think!

But if you ever attempt such a thing,
I'll love you back for being so crazy
because I'm kinda crazy,
and somewhere along all of that crazy,
Perhaps I might die.

And even then,
I'll cry in my eternal sleep
Knowing one day you'll fall in love again
While I still love you
as the sky soars above you.
437 · Aug 2016
Devin Lawrence Aug 2016
The truth inside is a dying flame.
It flickers faintly
like an echo of days long ago
politely passing through.
Though warmth still radiates
and cradles the soul,
charred remains tell a story
of a fire that once burnt
so much brighter.

You may fuel the flame,
fan it, respark it,
or even start it over from scratch,
but nothing compares to that first encounter
that set the world and time ablaze
right before your eyes.

We gather around it
though faces and places
are ever changing;
the songs and spirits
dancing through the air
flirt with the familiar
and comfort this sense
of wasted time.

In every truth is a lie,
like light bound to a flame,
and you are powerless
as the story unfolds
and nature does as it does:
it keeps moving along.
424 · Nov 2015
Songs About Love.
Devin Lawrence Nov 2015
I’m never happy like we were happy,
I’m not sad like we were sad.
You told me you loved me,
Why did you leave me all alone?

I sleep and wake, you’re all I see.
I can’t escape you, can’t set you free;
I wish I could wake up with amnesia
And forget all the stupid little things.

I’ve gotta stay high
To keep you off my mind.

It’s like I’ve checked into rehab,
Bound and tied
With suicidal memories,
I'm not insane;
Baby, you're my disease.

You’ve taught me to lie
Without a trace
And to **** with no remorse;
I’ve got an icebox where my heart used to be-
I’m so cold, I’m so cold.

Confess to her I’m still in love,
“The only one for me is you,
And you for me,
So happy together,”
All I heard was nothing.

Make out like it never happened,
Treat me like a stranger,
And I feel so rough.

But I can’t help
Falling in love
With you.
Songs used??
417 · Oct 2015
Devin Lawrence Oct 2015
Draped in robes
the same color
as the blood
that covered
the Cross.
It granted forgiveness-
a postmortem paradise.

You claim the authority,
given by the symbol 'round your neck,
to banish those who oppose,
and I oppose,
to the fires below
for eternity.

You take the symbol
of sacrifice and everlasting love
and you bend it at the ends;
accepting oppression,
perverting Purity.

"He's a ******!
                         She's a *****!"
Grab a mirror and remember:
the Devil was the
most Beautiful of all.

You've replaced the Father with
The Judge,
The Son with
The Priest,
and the Holy Spirit with
the Wicked Soul.

You pay your bills with my sin,
my prayers,
my Holy Salvation.

You speak in tongues-
the words like vultures,
they circle above me
and wait until I give in-
I've been consumed.

So condemn me to Hell,
Your Heaven is no paradise
for me.
413 · Sep 2016
Devin Lawrence Sep 2016
I am with you wherever you go. I
cannot be seen by anyone but you. I am
only around when you are weak - I am
the reason you must be strong. I am
familiar to those around you. I am uninvited,
but I have the key.
I come to life as the light is siphoned from your eyes. I am
anti-social and I hide away. I am
selfish - I want you to myself. I am
bleak when you have hope, I am
the reality piercing through your fantasy. I am
that bitter taste of regret as you swallow your pride. I am
the refilled prescription, I am
the angst against filling it. I am
the quiet in an open crowd. I am
the noise in your seclusion. I am
everything that you see no matter how far you go to escape.
I am your hopes and dreams - in the open for everyone to witness -
bursting into flames,
and you're forced to sit and watch.
I am the presence behind you waiting for you to fall.
No matter where you are,
I am with you wherever you go.
Devin Lawrence Nov 2015
Freedom to express
The reality of art,
Fantasy of life.
407 · May 2016
Devin Lawrence May 2016
I still feel you here
(how dare you)
as I lay in bed
next to her.

I look at your picture
and I get upset
knowing I lost the love for myself
by investing it all in you.

But I still visit you
whenever I can;
you're not hard to find -
I put you there.

I can still taste
the fruits of your ***
and that unrelenting craving
for just one more lie;
it's sweeter than anything
I've ever known.

I brought you here once
and you always find your way back.
405 · Mar 2016
Devin Lawrence Mar 2016
What a sensation
to have a ribbon between your fingers;
it flutters and bends at your whim,
it's graceful and elegant no matter how tight the knot.
As soft as the threads that hold it together,
remove a seam and it all falls apart -
descending like unkempt hair
that waves and spills
over a hermit heart.

What a feeling to hold a pen;
like God molding Adam's rib
into the most innocent
yet corruptible
being -
the creation's breathe
and it sounds like the scratch of pen-point on paper.

Undefined character arcs wait at the
mercy of the next line,
the next stroke.

What a sensation
to be flooded with sound,
yet deaf to anything on the outside.
The lyrics and sounds -
recited perfectly year after year -
change their meanings
and morph the mind
the beat penetrates the void.

This moment is a song,
and you're the next note,
but this song won't repeat.

What a feeling to have,
What a feeling to have...

396 · Nov 2015
City Lights
Devin Lawrence Nov 2015
Staring out at the bridge
Lit like the city it connects.
Patches of snow scattered,
The city is frozen in time-
Still and silent.

                                                        It's hard to medicate a broken heart
                                                                           When the medicine is gone.

The spot where we stood,
Your eyes bright like city lights,
Empty now-
The magic followed you everywhere.

                                                                     Holding a picture frame
                                                 Containing smiling faces and empty spaces

Winter's claws gripping at my cheeks,
I stare and amaze
At how the moon, the stars

                                                                    I've lost sober sanity,
                                                                   I'm craving drunken clarity.

I wrote a story-
The Bird With A Broken Wing-
And his youth transformed
A raven into
A hummingbird.

                                                                              Liquid comfort holds me
                                                                                       To solid ground.

Trapped in a monument
Dedicated to what was not

                                                                      Motivated by haunted illusions,
                                                                            I stand and stumble as
                                                            The bridge glistens off in the distance.

I return home,
Greeted by the sound
Of ghosts I used to know,
I used to love.

                                                                            Standing on the bridge
                                                                                  Where we departed.
                                                                             Crunching metal piercing
                                                                                      my memory,
                                                                                   Two lifeless bodies
                                                                                have consumed me.
                                                                                Staring out at city lights-
                                                                           Pretending they're her eyes-
                                                                                  I fall, I sink
                                                                                And watch as dark waters
                                                                                     Turn off the lights.
(work in progress)
383 · Apr 2016
Defining the Undefinable
Devin Lawrence Apr 2016
Love is the smell of spoiled milk:
even after you're rid of it,
it still lingers in your space of

Love is persistence
and dedication
even when your best is dismissed,
and your worst is worshiped.

Love is when you can't breathe because you're afraid of stealing someone else's last.

Love is not like -
love is more powerful
than a single syllable;
you should feel the power in every letter.

Love is the word your shoulder Angel sings
that makes you calm;
Love is the word your shoulder Devil
blames for the demons frolicking in your head.

Love is liquid;
it takes the form of something solid
until it eventually spills over.

Love is the understanding
between the sun and the moon -
Though they exist all at once,
they share the sky
so the other can shine.

Love is limitless;
I don't waste time trying to count stars.
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