Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
Egeria Litha
Call my shadow Sylvia Browne,
play with it like Peter Pan.
Pull it off the floor, and let the darkness
sit in my hands.
Roller coasting retrograde in Saturn's domain.
The moons rays shining backwards on my face.
My heart is bleeding coffee, bitter and strong.
My ego doesn't want to release what's wrong.
Negativity is something that appears to give you pleasure,
but actually gives you pain.
I let the King of Wands **** me raw and ******
until it feels like a mistake.
Hate me so that I can break free.
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
Q
Mondays
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
Q
Mondays
When I oversleep
Forget to eat
And fall out of seats

Mondays
When they hate on gays
"What *******" they say
And reject all change

Mondays
When the people are biased
And no one's ever quiet
And the children rebel and riot

Mondays
When people are killed
For someone else's thrills
Against loved one's wills

Mondays
I say
But, in truth,
It's everyday.
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
My Name Here
Look at them for
who they are
the things that knit and pull
the tender threads
of thought
dragging them across tepid
pools of punctured peace

You come traipsing through my mind
like a herd of deer
grazing on the patches
of thought
I'd tried to keep a secret

Oh- you know I tried,
but the forbidden things always taste better
with a glass of disdain
to wash everything down
I am a small pebble
laying at the foot of boulders
somehow both get ground away
all the same

and If I could find the way out
of my own head
I would humbly give you the keys
I'm sure you'd do a better job than me
so since there are no keys fashioned for such a place
I will keep making
my own mistakes
and I'll leave you to yours
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
Kait D
In the sun you look golden, tan and glowing
                  My very own bronzed statue.
                  You shine and never give in.

“This isn’t love.
                  You could never be mine, not really at least.
                  You would be a trophy that I never won
                  In a competition I never entered.

This is sacrifice.
                 I would change it all. I would stay.
                 You could be the one for me
                 But I couldn’t for you.

This is martyrdom.”

—“What are you dying for?”
                 Golden boy I would do it all for you.
                 Anything you wanted, except for this
                 Except be second best.

“You”
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
rochie lapoza
Don’t you cry for me
Not one tear
Don’ you cry for me

Who am I to make you cry?
Why is it me that makes you whole?
Why is it me you love so much?
You deserve better that what I give
I’m cold and dark and rude and mean
Although this was not how it used to be
But still you stay and cry for me
There is nothing here anymore
Nothing but an empty shell
My sole I fear is down in hell
And still you cry for me

There is an end you have to see
There is an end to your agony
Its coming soon
You’ll be fine
Now its here your no longer mine

And so you leave and say to me
“This is the last drop I spill for you
I’ll cry no more
I have lost all hope
I loved so much and tried so hard
My heart is smashed
Here take this shard
Hold it tight and keep it safe”

“One last kiss”  
Your sweet lips press to mine
I feel you love I feel you cry
A tear runs down your cheek
Your eyes begin to swell
You take my hand and hold it tight
“I know you feel it I feel it to
I only ever wanted to be with you
So out that door you go

I know I lost in side my mind
It’s a maze I used to know
I will again find my way  
Ill find my self
Then find you
We’ll live for each other
Just me and you
Oh, but it is *****!
--this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!

Father wears a *****,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it's a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly *****.

Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a ***** dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide
the only note of color-
of certain color.  They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe.  Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
ESSO--SO--SO--SO
to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.
 Apr 2013 Drew Marr
Sara Teasdale
I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;
I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.
of course i wish i could create the words
to send shivers through your body
and rattle you right down to the bones
of course i wish i could pull gasps and cries from the crowd
and force tears down the cheeks
of even the most stubborn of nonbelievers
of course i wish i could make music with the way
i arrange 26 funny little shapes
or splash paint across the walls of every mind in the room
or at the very least, say something
but the truth of the matter remains
that i may never do that
and my words may never be anything more than words
and they may never mean anything
to anyone
but me
but maybe,
if it's not too much to ask,
you could take this little bit of me with you
fold it up small and put it in your pocket
or your wallet
or tuck it behind your ear
and promise me
that when the time is right
you'll unfold it and feel something
Yes, bright the velvet lawn appears,
And fair the blooming bowers;
Yet blame me not—I view with tears,
This scene of light and flowers;
Strangers possess my native halls,
And tread my wonted ways;
Alas! no look, no voice recalls,
The Home of Happier Days.
The gay guitar is still in tune;
The greenhouse plants are rare;
Glad faces throng the wide saloon,
But none I love are there:
Oh ! give me friendship's cherished tone,
Give me affection's gaze;
Else my sad heart can never own
The Home of Happier Days.
Next page