Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
High speed **** generation
warped minds
strong hands
unreality stimulating, simulating
digital lights flickering
images of *******
endless variety of every kind
on demand
what has become of us
what has become of touching, romance
creepy accusations because genuine human interaction is going the way of the dodo,
Oh, he didn't follow the smooth script, no chance man
Maybe your testosterone was spent elsewhere and your vibes told the true true
either way no *** for you
the youth exploited and exploiting, insane cycles
the itch, the tingle, the curiosity, the drive for more, dopamine release
My generation had the first ******* access
point and click
no barriers can stop that drive, rooted in youthful pubescent longing
we're sick
on the digital drug

Touch me instead
bath me in your ***
not this crude moving picture
Let me drink you, taste your juice, feel you slide,
touch the walls of your world, explode them,
show the limitless illusion to boundaries, kink, *******,
stop watching, live it
chronic ******* robs us of the real intimacy,
don't drain your desire for me with this crude digital *******,
just because its there
You can touch me, not your keyboard, not this plastic and metal
I suppose you can touch yourself,
but have the imagination to fantasize
and then make it real
share your life force with a human being,
not some rag to be thrown away
Rise to your lust, conquer the animal
make its power serve
make love,
not digital mental war
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Thay
Her
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Thay
Her
I do what the teacher says:
make people that I know or once knew
into these groups and describe them.

So I sort them into said groups:
broken, struggling, abusers...
and I stumble onto one person.

The one person could fit into one group
or another, but they seem too good for that,
too pure for struggling, too beautiful for family...

So I do the unthinkable:
her.
I write it on the paper in a different color than the others.

I find myself sighing at the thought
and a smile grows upon my lips
as her brown eyes pop into my head

I can see her clearly, with her pale
skin and her head tilting in wonder;
how I wish I could see her once more...

She is too good for any other category,
and for one moment, I seem to get caught
Off guard with the emotions.

Her.
I love...
Her.
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Thay
A cage that is my skin
is what I'm trapped within
and I am sure that they won't let me break out

So misunderstood
I don't know if they would
accept me or if they'd fill themselves with doubt

And so I stand here,
waiting, hoping, wishing
that I can just be me.
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Thay
until I get the help I need,
until I'm finally free...

I tell myself to hold on,
to stay strong,
just 2 more days
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Maisha
I wish I could speak moon
the blazing rays
complimenting the motion
of your presence

I wish I could speak wind
the breeze
******* through the
mahogany, that is your hair

I wish I could speak rose
my petals, my crown
my scent, the embodiment
of your one-of-a-kind allure

I wish I could speak water
shrinking my way to
quench your thirst
killing whatever it is killing you

And so I wish I could speak human
the longing of my tongue
concealed behind these lips
for yours to caress mine
 Feb 2014 Jasmine Martin
Maisha
I grew less of a human, but more of a machine. I was not fully integrated with this manmade innovation, nor would I ever be. I still felt my heart and its feelings weaving through my blood, and the ache from an anonymous source. I did not live anymore. I just thought, and let those thoughts grow their own thoughts. And let my brain take over my human function. This revolved around so many different things, and was now among my daily life. I was basic science. I created hypotheses and predicted the outcomes, and with those, I guided myself in producing the best solutions. Sometimes, I chose what was best for everyone. Other times, I let myself lose. I grew less of a human, but more of a machine. I did not live. But I assisted those who wanted to. I became invisible, stuck in the naiveté that someone would see.
This is a story about a boy named kid
This boy had something he kept hid
Kid had something deep down inside
It was a quality different from many others
One that at the time worried their mothers
And disgusted their brothers
Friends would think him weird
Father would not accept him, this is what he feared
So he kept it a secret
He kept it for so long
Cause’ what he thought what he was feeling was so wrong
This thinking was instilled in him by society
The norms of life would not accept this variety
So he went on
Proceeding with life, terror and shame weakening his knees
Shaking when he sees the police
This boy will never know peace

At first he thought he would never tell
Preachers told him that he would go to hell
But another boy came along
A boy that he trusted
A boy that he loved
He became best friends with him
And one day he decided to reveal his secret to this boy

You see, this boy was not a boy at all
There was a reason he didn't stand so tall
This boy was a girl
She truly was
She told him about how she felt trapped inside this body of hers
She wondered aloud if this type of thing normally occurs
And she was tired of hearing all these sexist, homophobic, ridiculous slurs
She felt like she didn't belong in her own skin
She was scared that if she tried to change, she wouldn't fit it
She felt that this was a punishment for a sin
She revealed all to this boy, her closest friend
The one she learned to lean on and depend
She entrusted him; she made a mistake

Pretty soon word got out
Everyone knew her secret
She had no idea the boy wouldn't keep it
Tormented throughout the rest of the day
When she asked, no one wanted to play
She received ***** looks when she walked through the halls
She felt that she was taunted by everyone and the walls
And the teachers couldn't even look at her face
This girl felt like she was a disgrace
She felt like she had no place

When she got home, in the night the sorrow of the evening made her heart nearly burst
Not only was she betrayed by her friend, but by her family as well
Her parents couldn't look at her
Her brothers ran away when she came near
This is what she had come to fear
On her face was but a single tear

This tear, was not one made of sorrow or woe
This magical concoction was not made of anger or regret
It was a tear of pity
The girl stood defiant of them all
In this battle, she knew society would be the first to fall
She understands that she came into the world at the wrong time
She realized, it wasn’t acceptance from others that she wanted to find
She needed to accept herself
To be and act like whom she was on the inside
Not to comply with the cookie cutter form the world bestowed upon her
That night while she lay in bed
She smiled at the thought in her head
The thought of the future
The thought that in the future, kids like her would be accepted by everyone
They would be allowed at sleepovers
Wouldn't be looked down upon, or look up and see a disgusted face
Would be loved the same way by their family
Wouldn't feel like an outcast
She smiled for their future
She knew she had to stay strong for them
She knew she would never be accepted by anyone else
But she knew what she must do, be true to herself
Not sure why I felt the urge to write about this subject, but it felt right, to write it
 Dec 2013 Jasmine Martin
Tori G
I have come to the conclusion
That all of life is merely an illusion.

Time is nothing more than relative
And love is ridiculously sensitive.

We astonishingly keep in tact
By sudden moments of impact.

These moments, as glee as they may be
Never last for long, especially for me.

They pass by with a shimmer and a wink
And when they're gone I do nothing but drink.

But nothing is sadder as when I am twisted
Because that moment is gone; I missed it.

I do not hate myself though
Because it's impossible to feel low.

When I am high as a kite
Just thinking about tonight.

And how I came to the conclusion
That all of life is merely an illusion.

Happiness is a gift;
Do not let it drift.

For not everyone is able
To feel an emotion so stable.
Next page