crossed off my first death wish from the hundred that occupy my kick the bucket list, i embraced death and will always pay more for my morbid fascinations than any muscle-bound state could possibly enforce
the pen’s my weapon of war and i’ve been dying to get these words out though these red scores across my throat don’t cut as deep as the sword
knives clashed with my shoulder blades but i’m the only one sending me to an early grave
you can call it insanity if you want to because to be considered sane in schisms this insane is an insult
got sick of having my head turned; i can look back and laugh now because it’s a tragic comedy that so many aspire to slide away towards obscurity
i’m dead tired an inzombiac under attack from the stigma of the quiet life
only ourselves can stop us
you are going to die know it and the world will change for the better
first draft and an attempt to break my worsening writer’s block. Suggestions on improvements would be greatly appreciated
i’ve neglected this site over the last year, for reasons both traumatic and proactive. but i promise you all, every last person i’ve come into contact with on hello poetry, that i admire you and care deeply about you.
certain people i’ve come to know more than others, deeper than others, more intimately than others, but i’m thankful for every last one of you, for better or worse. you have all not only given me unparalleled support, but also the confidence and belief in myself to come out of my shell about everything i’ve experienced, and the belief that my poetic endeavour were not as futile as i had thought—so much so that my first book is due to be published next year.
so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything, and have a wonderful christmas and 2019.
obtain my prestige smoke dimethyltryptomine then you can @ me
People are free to dislike my work, free to hate it and free to try and destroy it, but don’t poemsplain to the poet. Don’t claim to know what I mean by ‘past self’, especially when you’ve accomplished nowhere near as much as I have on the back of not even being certain of what I’m capable of. It’s clear you have not experienced what I have by your replies, so, please, before you open your mouths, do what I did. Debate is fine, but don’t let your wholly incorrect opinions and unwarranted egos tell me what I mean. You know who you are.
To everybody else, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.
i know there’s nothing left at all when you eulogise mccain as the whole world took aim and fired millions of imaginary bullets, one for every human being he was paid to ****** one for every human being he burned alive he’ll never die he’ll liver forever haunting the halls of power so i’ll not be speaking ill of the dead by celebrating his life
i know there’s nothing left at all when bush killer in chief is given relief because he opposes hot air in word alone whilst buying new thrones with the taxes he saved, cuts that send your core support to their graves, the cuts you carve your name to and profit from, the bombs you vote to buy while you cry about the election you rigged and still lost
i know there’s nothing left at all when you embrace the hawks that have always circled you when you serve your corporate overlords when you disenfranchise half your country and leave them destitute when you can’t even care for them when they’re dying but happily sends them off to their slaughter for no other reason than because you’re bought by the profiteers of war
there’s nothing left at all about you
Putting the feelers out there. The American left: wake up.