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 Apr 2015 Diana
Joshua Haines
Losers
 Apr 2015 Diana
Joshua Haines
A cigarette after ***
  gets old
when it's the only thing
  burning
in your world.

When Netflix feels like
  family,
you wonder where
  everyone went.

******* feels like
  a cry for help--
So help you God.

Missing your home
  is second
to missing who
  you once were.

Eastern philosophy,
Karl Marx, Rawls--
We don't know
  any ******* thing,
really.

Pretending to be more.
Pretending to be smarter
than we really are.

May holes in our sides
let others see
that we're beating, too--
just not as ferociously
or as honestly.

May we vanish
into the darkness
that best suits us.

If the light is our night,
may we follow it.
Follow it...
Follow it...
Rebel from our frame.

May God grant us
to be more
than losers.
 Apr 2015 Diana
Shel Silverstein
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
 Apr 2015 Diana
Joshua Haines
Robert
 Apr 2015 Diana
Joshua Haines
It was four o'clock in the morning. Robert wondered why his name was Robert. He decided to get rid of the "Bert" because it was the name of a Sesame Street character or the name of a ******* in Tempe, Arizona. Then again, he thought, "Hey, just Rob makes me sound like I change tires for a living or that I work out at a gym that discriminates fat people and blacks." Rob or Robert took a second to evaluate his last thought and if thinking "and blacks" made him a racist person.

Robert sat on a bench and wondered if the woman beside him was expecting Forest Gump-esque wisdom.

Robert thought of a friend he had in grade eight, named Alexander. He thought of how Alexander had a glass eye. Robert wondered how Alexander had a glass eye but could not remember or did not know why Alexander had a glass eye. Robert, then, concluded that sometimes he will not know something and how that is okay because most people don't know anything--it's a collection of approximates that stay in our heads, he thought. Robert asked himself if his last thought made him intelligent or dumb and pretentious. Robert decided that he did not know. How meta, he thought. Robert, then, decided to stop using the word "meta" so much, because it made him feel like a professor with bitterness and something to prove.

Robert watched his sister struggle with an eating disorder. She was in a hospital bed, with an IV in her arm. Robert did not know if he would struggle with anything as hard as his sister struggled with anorexia. Robert, then, had intense but fleeting anger at every person that bragged about being anorexic or made it seem cool.

Robert sat on his toilet and wondered what his true identity was and what his true nature was. He wondered what was inherent and what was synthetic. Robert, then, wondered if a synthetic personality was inherent. Robert asked himself if he was a good person. He wasn't sure if sitting on the toilet, in his grandmother's house, and ******* to interracial ebony teen ****, on his iPhone, made him a good person or not. His concerns soon past, though, as soon as Lauren started to **** the pizza guy's white ****.

Robert walked down the street and was contemplating some of the issues that plagued his ****-infested mind, while he was on the toilet. Robert saw a girl running from a guy. Robert asked himself if he was a hero or inherently good. Robert, then, concluded that he was inherently a coward, since he did nothing and hoped that somebody else would save her.

Robert didn't meet a girl and knew that no one would write prose about his meeting a girl and their mutual love for one another. Robert was eating a steak sub, while thinking this.

Robert returned to the hospital, to pick up his sister. On the way home, his sister talked about how attractive her nurse was. Robert asked, "What did he look like?" His sister, then, said, "It wasn't a he. My nurse was a girl." Robert was okay with his sister being attracted to girls, but hoped that she didn't get more than him or more attractive girls than him, because, for some reason, that would make him feel insecure. Robert decided to stop eating so many steak subs and to work out. Robert asked his sister if she wanted to get steak subs. She said, "sure".

Robert was working out in his basement. He heard the sound of retching, upstairs. Robert followed the sound of the vomiting and opened a bathroom door. He saw his sister stick her finger down her throat. He said to his sister, "That isn't anorexia." His sister said, "I know. There's a lot you don't know about me." Robert said, "I'm sorry."
 Apr 2015 Diana
Joshua Haines
I am in such a **** mood,
the mountains have no meaning.
Big ******* rocks.

*******, dad.
*******, Fox News.
*******, Indiana.

None of you *******
know what irony is.
Google that ****.
Jesus Christ.

There are yellow streams--
that's poetic ****.
There are ruby stained sheets--
that's blood, obviously,
and, I dunno,
maybe somebody died on a bed?

Everyone can **** my ****.

To be or not to be,
that is the
shut the **** up.

Rapists are disgusting people.
They aren't people.

******* idiots.
Romanticizing everything
you wish you had
because
suicide, mental illness,
and eating disorders
make you cool,
riiiigghhhttt?
*******.
If you do this,
you aren't interesting.
You're just you.
Get used to it.
There are people
that go through
these issues
and they don't think
it's ******* rad,
*******.

I hate 75% of the south.
The south will rise again?
Get the **** out of here.

Stalin was a ****.

Most writers are *****.
Most of them ****.
I don't care.

For the love of "God",
if I read one more poem
about what poetry is
or how to define a poet,
I'll slam my head against
a ******* knife.

Some people are so dumb.
Most ******* people.
******* pseudo-knowledge.
Armchair philosophers.
If you guys wanted
to **** yourself,
you could jump
from your ego
to your IQ.

Something, something, imagery.
Metaphor.
 Apr 2015 Diana
Girl On The Wing
There are many paths to take in life
But I beg of you all
Choose love.
 Feb 2015 Diana
SøułSurvivør
~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!



SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015
~~♥~~
 Feb 2015 Diana
Steele
"Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned."
I whisper to the empty halls by holy candle's light.
The stones of the church are cold on my bare knees,
like my bare heart, bared before you: My brother. My knight.
My Lord to Shepard me in the darkness. "Guide me from the night..
Hallowed be thy name, forgive me my transgressions in your sight.
"
I whisper again, and beg for my trespasses retribution or salvation;
I've stopped caring which came my way long ago, though I'm contrite.

"You see... Lord... I've failed in many ways. I'm not the brother or son
that I need to be. I've lost my path, if not my faith, and my only consolation
now are my tears, my cigarettes, and my shattered heart's remaining love.
Forgive me for the harm I've done, though I know my prayers are not enough.
I know I don't deserve it, but by grace of God above,
I hope to be a better man, instead of this drawn out sin my life's become...
"

And by the altar, I cry.
And my bare knees and bared heart are by this time cold,
frozen by uncaring flagstones, and by your love that you withhold.
Sinners go to Hell below, that's what Sister Mary told
me when I was young and full of light,
and innocent and oh so bold,
and when in my heart I didn't have so much fright,
and such a raging fire that burns so cold,
in sadness and felicity from the grasp of the Devil in my soul.

But for all my faith, and for all your love,
I'm still going to rage
and spit
and claw
and fight,
even when I know that my side's not near in the right,
and even when my heart is stained and uncontrolled,
So I kiss the cross and wish my hopes for a better life goodnight.
"Thanks for listening, Jesus." I whisper, but in my sinner's heart so cold,
I wonder... Can he hear me? Or am I, as I feel it now, alone?
I'm losing my faith, and I'm not sure what else there is to get me through once it's finally gone. If anyone is out there, I need a kind word. That's my prayer tonight.
 Feb 2015 Diana
jeffrey robin
////

"I'll love you forever"
----she said

•                •


•               •

It's 40 years later

I wonder if she does
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