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Mouthpiece Oct 2015
As a result of modern times,
I'm permanently left
With several red handprints
Slapped across my forehead;
Sometimes I read written lines
And feel brain dead;
Other times I reach fever-pitch
Because of the wisdom I read;
But it's mainly the former
As kids only care for fame and bread,
And Beavis is always bragging
That he gets nothing but head.
The gifted are slaughtered
'Cause what they've said they've meant,
And they're left gagging
So as to stop discontent.

Continue the walk, comrades;
We will break the machine
And become the role models
The youth of today need.
Keep walking in the wind and the rain;
They're needed to keep grass green
And eternise your morals.
Soon enough, you'll see what I mean.
Take me as an example: I'm far from the best
That you know or that we will see;
But what difference does that make,
If I only care for the good deed?
Never trust omnipotence:
Perfection is a disease;
Our imperfections will make us great--
The greatest our posterity will ever receive.
This piece was inspired by a lot of things--mainly my hatred for the industry of carbon copy music, that people bow down to purely to make money. Beethoven had the exact same idea; he believed that an artist could not move others unless he himself is moved, and I agree.
In addition, people of HP, keep on pouring your heart out. People will soon know the difference between manufactured material and bespoke beauty.
1.3k · Aug 2016
Mouthpiece Aug 2016
Darling, don't you hear the orchestra,
Drumming like our heart, pulsing like Vega?
Too long have our thumbs jived as we look on,
Musing alone about better days

Poised atop some wasted rock,
Laughing cheerless of prospects lost, rifles cocked;
The tragedy of permanence festers in our heart.
Do we fight side by side or face decay?

Modern day martyrs speak of stigmata,
Blissfully unaware of the kiss we share.
How dare we attempt to behold the stars;
Beacons in withered palms don't belong there.
How modern day martyrs speak of stigmata.

Hurl our cat towards the feeding pigeons;
Be the lion amongst the Christians.
See the blood on their hands, it's ours
From bruised days when they beat us before;

But we'll have them bleeding in our own good time;
Our reign of peace will be when they're crucified,
And we'll find our place in the chaos,
Of that I'm sure.

Modern day martyrs speak of stigmata,
Blissfully unaware of the kiss we share.
How dare we attempt to behold the stars;
Beacons in withered palms don't belong there.
How modern day martyrs speak of stigmata.
Your are not holier than thou, no matter your bank balance, belief, ethnicity, gender, social status, superficial quality, athletic ability, or intellect. We who realise this will rule the world.
1.3k · Sep 2015
Life on a Plate
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Now that I think about it, something was always wrong
With Danny Moffatt; things never seemed to get along.
He was a good friend of mine once, but those times are gone;
I have nightmares about him, and I’ll never move on
From damage done to him that now festers in me,
Which came to us from different circumstances completely.
He was normal as can be throughout his teenage years:
Trying to pick up chicks and impress all his peers,
Spending more money on haircuts and designer gear
Than people he knew, and he was always quick to clear
The issue of cost, which found a way into his head,
Leading him to skip school and get in trouble instead.
He often let it be known about the girls he would ****
When he’d head into town and sneak into nightclubs;
‘It’s great fun’, he’d say, ‘so long as it doesn’t involve love’.
He threw away the little care he had left for his mind;
***** weren’t given to grades ‘cause he was otherwise inclined.
‘All that matters to me is the fact I always look good;
That’s all I’ll need to eventually escape this neighbourhood’.
He repeated that more often than he should,
Often elaborating by stating no girl ever would
Reject the pulling games he played;
He was always so certain that he had his life made.
Little did he know that his downfall was on its way.

Danny continued like this ‘til he received his grades
On the final day of school; he didn’t seem phased
That he’d broken the record in the school’s history
For the lowest results a pupil’s ever received.
His excuse was that he gets ‘so bored when he reads’,
And that he’d much rather sit at home watching the T.V.,
Picking up styling tips on all the latest fashion;
His parents didn’t seem to care—they lacked compassion.
They were worried about the cider they had warming
In the sun, and that ‘golden drinking time’ was dawning,
So they’d better head home; standing around was boring
Them, so they left in a hurry, without warning.
They had forgotten to take Danny’s report card with them,
So I took it and planned to hand it in as and when
I saw Danny again. Now, I wish I hadn’t of went
Almost a week later, ‘cause what happened I’ll never change;
I had no idea that his alter ego was so deranged.
All the time I spent with him he never seemed estranged—
Far from it in fact; his emotions were always locked in a cage,
Hidden inside from people at school
Who made him a laughing stock and gave him the nickname ‘The Fool’.
What’s done is done; I can’t wind back
The hands of time, talk to him, and give him a *****
In the hope that I’d persuade him to clean up his act.

I went to his house, but before I knocked on the door,
I saw the exterior paint peeling off the wall,
And flakes mixed with pint cans scattered across the lawn
That was overgrown; the place looked like it had seen a war.
I knocked. His mother answered, and without saying a word,
Slammed the door with the loudest bang I’ve ever heard.
She whimpered as she posted a note through the letterbox.
The paper was damp and reeked of cheap alcopops.
I opened it. As I read, I felt my heart slowly stop
As my intestines twisted and toed themselves up in knots.
‘The devil’s had his way with me’ is what the note said;
‘By the time you read this, I will be dead
And some place where I’m not required to lie anymore.
I’ll come to terms with the fact that I’m ******* poor;
But I’ll escape the charges that range from credit card fraud
To robbery. I felt the addiction taking over;
As it did, the world and all life in it slowly grew colder—
Like drinking, when you notice you’re no longer sober.
I’m sorry that I left this so late; I know I should have told yer,
But television had me chasing
Dreams I can’t afford, while at the same time manipulating
The one thing I need: my mind’s state.
It told me that I needed some things and need to lose weight.
It made me believe that it would give me life on a plate’.
Following on from Grey Skies, a poem I wrote a few days ago (I suggest you read it, if you haven't already), I am continuing writing about issues that plays a part in many lives. I have written a lot about my life, and thought that I should try branching out. I have battled with experiences similar to the above, and know too well the hatred you feel for yourself. The wishing to change every superficial aspect about you, because what we see is what we are made to strive for. We neglect the beauty that is eternal, replacing it with something finite. Let me know what you think.
1.2k · Sep 2015
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
It's cheaper than war,
So what the **** are we fighting for?
I'm sure you're all aware that the world is currently tearing itself apart, hence this simple piece. My idea behind it is-essentially- this: the people who create wars, warmonger, send our posterity to die in wars, enjoy the glory (I use that term extremely loosely) in war, and reap the rewards (again, loosely used) of war are interested in one thing: money. That's why people like Tony Blair charge £300,000 (approximately half a million dollars) to makes speeches at world hunger conferences. So that's why I neglect that war is made entirely of, and solely produces. Hit a greedy man where it hurts: his pockets.
Mouthpiece Jan 2015
I want to feel the pressure in each of your veins drop;
I want to watch the colour from your face drain as your heart stops;
I want you to slowly come to terms with the fact that you're being killed.
I would never wish death upon most, but you, on the other hand, I always will.

If our lips ever meet,
I want to steal all the air from your lungs --
Just like you've done to me;
I want to feel the heat
Crawling across the surface of my tongue --
Like when you murdered me.
A little strange considering it's about love. But you always **** the one you love.
1.2k · Oct 2015
To Cage an Animal
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
A look in the mirror
Revealed more than she expected;
The bruises around her neck
And face were frequently reflected;
But this time, her tear's inquest
Slowly pulled apart and dissected
His pet name for her: princess,
Which she now felt he said in error.

The void in her eyes swelled,
Giving definition to what she saw;
She could no longer act or perform,
Or swim against the tides of her thoughts
Because a new realisation had dawned:
Her life was now just one long war;
There were no ports to escape the storm.
In her prison, there was no one to tell.

She loved and hated him;
He had given her his shelter,
And he would often make her melt
With honey-laced words he said to her.
They were stolen by the lash of his belt,
Or one hand 'round her throat, and the other pulling her hair.
The reality she now felt
Is that she could never win.

He was drinking on the sofa
As she walked through to the kitchen.
He must of heard her sobbing
So he slurred 'stop your *******''.
He got of his chair and started following;
To the sound of his thuds her fingers were twitchin'.
'This is the end', she thought, 'but it's also the beginning
Once this is over'.

That look in the mirror
Had made up her mind;
She felt his hand clamp on her shoulder,
So she turned around and stabbed him five times--
One for every year he had turned her colder.
A sigh of relief came as she let go of two knives;
The law sees that as ******, but for her, it was over.
My question is this: do you blame her?
Domestic violence is probably the most silent evil to exist today. Both men and women are condemned to suffer in the one place that should guarantee sanctuary. I would just like to try and further raise society's awareness of this problem.
1.2k · Jul 2016
Mouthpiece Jul 2016
What have you done?
I chased the sun in vain,
And I'd do it again,
Just for the fun of it.

You took a life;
You ripped up all it knew
To give it something new,
To shed some light on it.

Stripped down,
Until I'm just a soul;
Built back up,
Between the highway tolls.
For that light,
I'd gladly bleed myself dry.
I'd gladly bleed myself dry.

Look where we are:
You saw my scars and smiled,
I was scared for a while,
But now I'm far from it.

A twist of fate;
You gave an escape to me;
You showed me what it's like to breathe,
And I love the taste of it.

Your smoke,
Helped appease my bones;
Your voice,
Sounds just like piano notes.
And for that light,
I would lie down and die.
I would lie down and die.
Stripped back and simple.
1.1k · Feb 2017
Mouthpiece Feb 2017
I'm weird
But when I see her
When I hear her
I’m not
When I feel her IV bursting my bubble, smell her territory all over me
I’m not
When her taste pours into me, cascading with the sweetness of childhood candy,
I’m not weird.

When the slanted ***** in her face opens and checks my vitals
She tells me I’m fine, tells me to stop apologising
But sorries are tiny bits of bile heaved up
From shot after shot of guilt
The night before

And I know it’s weird
Because she says my vitals are fine
Tells me to snap out of it
Tells me I’m not weird
Or a mistake
Or a danger to myself
And it worked

***** walls aren’t my hair thinning anymore
Lights stay red when I cross without looking
The deafening scratches on the casket
And the tapping, the tapping, the tapping stops.

I’m not on the rooftop
Looking down, wondering
What constellation the railings would make
Should they puncture me,
If my aorta will spurt my name in calligraphy,
How many lives I could touch at once,
Because her fingers are in my mouth
Ripping the coffin nails out
And the splinters make me feel weird,
A stranger in her landscapes
But overjoyed to be walking there
Because she smiles and checks my vitals
And I feel human for a moment of my life

And now I know
People can be happy
And fall In love with
A ******.
Experimenting continues. Sorry this is like a bit of a brick, but I'm trying to break this dull numbness that is writer's block. I've only ever really written about negative things, so writing positive things is actually proving quite the challenge.
1.1k · Dec 2015
There's Nothing to Fear
Mouthpiece Dec 2015
So you had a thought last night;
It seemed good at the time--
A way to prove you ain't so up-tight
As they say.
You saw a guy you quite fancied,
And you're sure he wouldn't mind
Fun between the sheets, before you leave
The next day.

You let him buy you drinks
And he showed you his best moves;
He's buying much more than you think,
He's buying most of you.

The glory of morning
Is a sight you don't wish to see;
He's still fast asleep snoring,
With his eyes rolled back.
Just what have you done?
There's many stains on the sheets;
You thought it would be fun,
But here are the facts:

The middle of an endless hangover
Is slowly setting in;
Safety never came with a cold shoulder;
Do you know where to begin?

Showing emotion only leads to defeat,
So you thought, my dear; so you thought, my dear.
Learn life's lessons and try jumping in with both feet,
'Cause there's nothing to fear;
No, there's nothing to fear.
This piece shows how society--being as it is--damages us. We are all terrified to express ourselves or show emotion. In this instance, the protagonist does not want to show any kind of feeling relating to love. Instead, she opts to have a one night stand with a stranger in an attempt to prove that she isn't up-tight. We should not be scared to show emotion, no matter if society would rather not see it. Emotion is what makes us human. Being apathetic leads only to a downwards spiral.
1.1k · Sep 2015
Grey Skies
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Johnny sat with his head in his hands looking weary;
I sat in silence, searching for something to say vainly
During the post-match interview last Saturday.
Our team lost, and Johnny took this particularly
Hard; I could tell by the way the room seemed to dim
And the storm outside raged louder. Thoughts were eating him
From the inside out; and still I couldn't begin
To comfort him. Then I saw the ***** of a desperate grin
Grow from out the gloom. Finally his arms began to relax,
And after a long, shallow exhale he through his head back
Onto the headrest of his chair and slowly started to laugh.
He took out his last cigarette and then crumpled the pack
Up into a ball, looking me dead in the eye.

'Life', he said at length, 'is this what it's supposed to be?
If it is, then every tutor and teacher of mine has lied to me;
I'm a weekend dad at the age of twenty, a ***** to the DWP,
Living off food-bank handouts 'cause I've got no money.
What I see from the twenty-first floor of this run-down high-rise
Is not a breathtaking view, but a world of grey skies,
Flickering light bulbs and poverty stricken cries
Of children robbed of a future in which all misery dies;
And day by day, all I can do is set back and say
"At some point will good fortune ever stagger this way?
Could I ever take an opportunity and at last make life pay
Me what I'm owed?" I have a feeling I'll forever seek that day.'
I tapped him on the shoulder and said 'you need some time alone'.

I left him; it was almost the last time we met,
And I hate myself for it--not because I got soaking wet
From the storm, but because I'd never see his mother, Janet,
Or his brother, Little Jack, or his brother or his ***** of an ex
Ever again. And I often wonder if things would have been the same
If I had stayed; at least I wouldn't be the person to blame.
I could have talked some sense into him; I could have changed
His outlook--even if only for an extra hour after the game.
But now, I'm stuck not being able to alter this tragic reality;
Like it or not, it's the very same grey skies that I now see--
My entire world has fallen into a pit of abject misery,
And that day will forever exist in infamy
In the life of this town.

I remember heading to our local off licence after I left
And spending some time talking to his mother Janet--
Forgetting everything I had originally went in to get--
Eventually leaving after with nothing, because we talked about Brett,
Johnny's little boy, and how each day he's growing bolder,
And how in an hours' time, when her weekend shift is over,
She's going to take him the park and tell him about Jehovah's
Plans for him when he leaves school--when he's older.
We spoke about Little Jack too, and how he passed his exams;
He got straight A Stars, more than you can count on your hands;
But our conversation was interrupted by her employer, Bad Sam,
Who told her to get outside and start unloading the van
As he took a seat behind the counter.

Now Bad Sam is notorious around here;
He's known for selling anybody all kinds of gear,
***** to kids, guns, counterfeit clothes, even knock-off beer.
He uses the shop for cover, so the police never hear
About him or suspect him; and if you ever said a word,
He'd guarantee that it was the last thing you heard.
But he stays clear of the messy side of things; he's a big nerd
For knowing and hiring local lowlifes to do his ***** work.
That's only half the story; I think he's got most of the police
In his pocket, who are more-than-happy to keep the peace
Thanks to extra pennies to spend on fancy holidays in the heat,
And detached houses and driveways away from the streets
This side of the tracks.

I can't help but rerun that day and think about Johnny,
And what drove him to the relentless stages of insanity;
Obviously he had things bad, but I couldn't believe
What it was that I saw and heard on the TV
Yesterday evening. By chance I stayed up to watch the news
After I heard sirens and saw an almost constant stream of blue
Lights scream along the road I live on. The wind blew
A gail and the rain drove down. I didn't have the faintest clue
That it had something to do with you, Johnny; I never knew that night
I'd lose you; but as I said earlier, the grey skies are my sight
Now. The clock hands and subsequent dates don't seem right
Because you're no longer around; you've gone and taken flight
To a place that I'll have to wait years to see.

The anchor said that night a young man had been arrested.
When I heard that, I thought I had second guessed it;
But I was wrong, because I hadn't listened to the rest
Of the story. They stated that the police believe and suspect
A local man had went and murdered a small family
Of five following from a suspected botched armed-robbery.
They never mentioned any names at the time, but shortly
After--the next day in fact, I got a letter that has haunted me
Ever since. Johnny, how could you be so ******* ******?
If you had asked, I could have lent you a few quid
Just to see you through or something. I'd have been happy to give
You anything I had to stop you doing what you did.
I could have saved you.

The letter reads: 'Michael, I thought you should be the first to know
That your best friend, poor little Johnny, died real ******' slow.
He was a mess; a puddle of tears turned red by the blood from his nose
And eyes, mouth, fingernails--every type of ****** hole
You can think of; that'll teach the the ***** to never point a gun at me again.
I got an apology, pleads for mercy and forgiveness when
My man wheeled his mother and family through to the shed we were in.
You know the place; you saw it on the news--I was watching with you, friend.
But the devil is in the details that you never got to see;
So without further ado, please allow me
To go through what happened last night, the Sunday,
Your team lost and my team won. The first time in decades, I believe.
But I'm not that big a fan of football.

'First we got his ex, Clara or something? She's the *****
He went on about so often, so we killed her pretty quick.
That is after we made him watch her ******* the ****
Of that guy, you know, the one she cheated on him with.
We got his brother next. This was simple: a tap of the back of the head with a bat.
That was him out, so my man took Brett and bounced on his back,
And threw him against a wall. You should have seen the blood splat
And heard him groan, like when you kick a dying cat
From off the porch. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention
That we got his mother next. We stripped her, and without hesitation,
My man rammed a blade up her **** without any lubrication.
You think Brett's cries were bad. There's no comparison
To the howls she made.

'We tore the ***** to pieces, but for hours she hung on,
Mumbling messages to god and trying to forgive her son
Desperately, but she couldn't really speak after all her teeth were gone
And her cheeks were beaten; she could only whisper "John"
Until, after some time, she died with fresh tears on her cheek.
We gagged Johnny with barbed wire, so he was unable to speak
His last words to his mother. By this time he had grown weak
From the trauma, so we cut him up slow--piece-by-piece,
Starting from the toes and fingers, working up the arms and legs,
Until he was nothing more than a broken body and a head;
All of us were surprised to find that he still wasn't dead.
That, I'm sorry to say, is the majority of the letter read,
But look up'.

As I did, I saw a shadow move from the corner
Of my living room. A beastly man, who was clearly not a mourner.
He passed me a parcel, and stared me straight in the cornea.
He said 'read the letter aloud'. Reluctantly I continued with every fibre
Of me quaking. I could hardly read the words, but they read
'Now, Michael, to you I spare death and give you this present.
Thank your lucky stars that I haven't made you dead;
But if you ever tell anybody about this series of events--
Just think about where Johnny and his family now rest.
Yours sincerely, Sam'. I looked up, but the man had disappeared.
But written on the wall was, 'Sam is still around to be feard'.
I turned my my attention to the box. I felt really weird;
Calmness had washed over me, I was no longer scared,
Until I opened the box, and I saw Johnny's grey eyes.
I wrote this piece in an attempt to get people thinking about their choices in life. You never know what could happen.
I also hoped to inspire people to think outside the box. What I mean is, who is or are the persons to blame in this piece? Would it be Johnny, Sam, Michael, Clara, the police, society, or the government?
Please also accept my apologies if there are typographical errors. This took me over an hour to type on my ******* phone, and the poem itself took two days to complete. My pen even ran out of ink half way through.
Let me know what you think. Be honest. Did I waste my time?
Also, the 'brutal' description of what happened to Johnny and his family was inspired by things I have read about atrocities committed in war, specifically concentration camps.
1.1k · May 2015
Uncle Mengele
Mouthpiece May 2015
It's cold here, and the other children are very poorly;
But I think I'm ever so lucky
To have my Uncle Mengele looking after me;
He gives me lots of smiles and things to eat;
He makes sure my bed is warm when I sleep;
In the winter, I have shoes on my feet.

I'm only six years old, like my brother Christi;
He looked at us and said 'you are so sweet'
When we arrived here; he came along to meet
Me and my brother, so he could complete
His studies. He said that we looked a little green,
So he'd change that to his liking.

Sometimes, he likes to things that are quite silly
To other boys and girls that are naughty:
He keeps them outside at night when it's freezing --
But not me, 'cause Uncle Mengele loves me;
He's almost like an Angel, or so it would seem;
He's not like the other men -- they're just mean.

He took us to a room, and talked to a baldy
Man in a language that was quite funny.
He said me and my brother were sick, and need
Treatment that would be over quite quickly;
And because we both miss our mother quite dearly,
He said he won't hurt my brother and me.

Uncle Mengele has just gave me bad news: sadly
My brother died just after surgery.
This is even worse than the pain I feel in my tummy.
Uncle Mengele said 'you must forgive me.
I'll make all your problems go away with Zyklon-B.
We'll take you to the shower to be cleaned'.
Things are about to get very dark, very quickly. The 'educated' can be misguided unbeknown to them; so what's to say we can't be either?
1.1k · Mar 2016
Get Undressed
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
Sometimes you have no option
But to wear the shoe that fits,
Even though the sole's got holes
And the laces are in bits;
You walk out in the rain
And your toes can feel the drips,
And your feet are getting cold;
Guess the duct tape didn't stop it.

This day is the worst
But the next could be the best;
Bearing that in mind,
I have just one small request:

Get undressed and allow
Yourself to get drenched;
Take off your Ralph Lauren
And your New Balance,
Because your clothes do not define
Your life nor do they mine;
Get undressed and allow
Yourself to get drenched.
I do not have permission to use Ralph Lauren and New Balance in this poem.
1.1k · Jan 2017
In Tongues
Mouthpiece Jan 2017
I'm not crazy,
I'm just not enslaved by sanity;
No, I'm not crazy,
Not at all.

From a far way away,
All our circles form a square.
From a far way away,
Personal bubbles disappear,

But I'll continue to sing out of tune,
Wasting away in my mother's spare room
Whilst, all the while, mushroom clouds beguile
Me to believe I can leave some time soon.

I'm not crazy,
I'm just not enslaved by sanity.
I told you there was a weird one coming up next. With this piece, I'm trying to portray my frustration at the lack of reasoning we, as a collective species, take.
We're living in very turbulent times. Hate and envy and fear flood the streets we walk down. We drown out rationality in the high waters, when the collective wellbeing of every human on the planet is in our best interests. If we zoom out and pay no attention to individual differences, we are all the same. So why are we fighting? Why do we hate? Why are we jealous? Why do we have to out do each other? That seems counter productive, to me at least. And, sadly, I don't see this changing in a hurry. That's why I feel like I've lost the plot and now talking in an unknown language to the world, even though it makes perfect sense to cooperate and love each other no matter what. But I'd rather be considered insane and outcast due to picking a fight with this kind of animosity, than be considered sane by standing by as the world turns, doing nothing at all.
1.0k · Nov 2015
Heavily Medicated
Mouthpiece Nov 2015
I've got the obvious finger
Like a barrel between your eyes,
Yet there's another three
Pointing right back at me,

Doctors have to cure all disease,
And many more problems to solve,
But society leads me to believe,
Suicidal thoughts are a part of who we are.

The city's dives are where I linger,
Searching bottle bottoms for the price.
Does the light beaming through life's mists
Always lead to this?
This is a piece I wrote on journey home from work. I am trying to pinpoint whatever it is that causes problems within our own mind, whether it be depression, self-consciousness, anxiety, etcetera. Is it those that surround us, is it ourselves, or are they just a part of life? We as a species love to be pathologised, and others love to diagnose us with some sort of problem or other. A little deeper into the piece could lead to thinking about life itself: are we living it the way it ought to be? I dunno.
Mouthpiece Apr 2016
Give me an hour in Heaven
Before the Devil knows I'm dead,
To behold what I have done,
Before I meet my friend.

I have just one confession:
The taxman has pennies to take,
And I take ibuprofen,
To **** my headache.

I build the very bombs
That turn our rivers red;
Give me just an hour in Heaven
Before the Devil knows I'm dead.
1.0k · Jan 2016
Revelations and Resolutions
Mouthpiece Jan 2016
Promises should never be made
Unless the maker can keep 'em;
I made a promise to myself:
Be happy and get rid of your demons.
So, here goes nothin', I'll get around to cleanin'
Out the rotten part of my chest,
And take out every memory of you
And throw them out to see to rest.
Little did you know that your secrets aren't dead,
They're alive and kicking in me,
And daddy, I'm gonna explode and expose
This monstrosity for the whole world to see.
Maybe then I can truly feel free;
So I'll kiss you goodbye with a clenched fist,
Toss the thoughts of you to the water
And smile as you sink and sleep with the fish.

Not many of you know
About my personal life:
How I dread the colder months
Or struggle to sleep soundly at night;
You might not even know that I
Hate the sight in the mirror,
So please allow me to explain
And make the image much clearer.
In winter my father would disappear,
Leaving me with nothing whatsoever
But his debts to pay;
I had nothing: power, food, and hot water,
Were a rarity after
I spent all my money trying to keep a cave over my head.
On several occasions
I literally almost froze to death.
Here's an example, it's probably one of the best;
He called me and said he was in Spain
After I suffered for months alone
With temperatures below zero and empty cupboards again.
He began to clearly explain
That I would probably be evicted,
While he took the money I paid him,
And continued to drink it
Away, spending it on the family he wanted;
He had two houses here in the UK:
The one he illegally lived at, and the other
He visited when I had rent to pay.
That's not all that I wanted to say,
But for now I'll mention him no more;
That's needed to come out for a while,
So now you know the score.

Promises should never be made
Unless the maker can keep 'em;
I made a promise to myself:
Be happy and get rid of your demons.
Well, I guess I'm finished cleanin'
And my promise has been kept;
But take this as a bit of advice.
Your life may be bad, but it's not done with you yet.
A excerpt of my life. I don't have a father.
1.0k · Nov 2015
Dead Presidents
Mouthpiece Nov 2015
With spit lacing the hand of this sharply-dressed man,
You grip his palm with a face struggling to hide the storm;
You're quick, but still stuck in the sand of supply and demand;
Life was open-arms but now it's up in arms--dog eat dog.
The big dogs have grand plans hidden by smiles and nice tans.
They dropped ****** and make a killing selling bombs
Stood in suits at stands, selling death and promoting brands.

Killing pays a higher wage and grants you better days,
Away from corner liquor stores and the bookmaker's next door.
Either way, you must ***** and silent you must stay--
Even though you're kept poor so they can always make a little more
And disobey each word they say and every single promise made.
Sadly, you're forced to take the route they want you to walk.
If they really cared, would they let you live this way?
'Wake up', is the call; 'your back's against the wall'.
In remembrance of the fallen soldiers, and a call to those that are serving in the forces to stop serving. Look at what they're doing to you! You are nothing but a money making scheme. If presidents really cared (which they don't, and is therefore a wordplay on the term 'dead presidents'), would they send you off to die? Would they have people from privately owned businesses selling war? War is legalised ******, and is done so because of the profit motive. Each war leaves a handful of people one **** of a lot richer, as well as a **** of a lot of people dead. End the reign of those that **** you, not some man millions of miles away in rags and sandals.
1.0k · Feb 2017
Just Maybe
Mouthpiece Feb 2017
You and I
Should walk
Down the whistling shore's dunes,
Skin in bone,
Home from home,
Taken by
The sunlight you blacken.

We should walk
Until we can't
Feel the bottom.

Just maybe,
I could save your life
Like that.
Mouthpiece Nov 2015
I see the wheels turning;
Cities building and forests burning,
Streetlights flashing, stomachs churning.
The lining of my guts paint the powers beneath the sky.
Our leaders ignoring,
'Peacetime is boring, non-whites need deporting;
******* for snorting. My ivory tower will be safe in the morning,
And those ******* worlds away will do nothing but die'.

Playing with fire will get you burnt,
And soon enough it will be your turn.

Silent remains our demonstrations.
Their will be forced on any nation
Who chooses to change direction,
Away from democracy's boot kicking down their door.
One child dies of starvation
Every ten seconds, because death and destruction
And fear are all that is needed for life to function.
'Fund both sides and let the poor slaughter themselves with war'.

Playing with fire will get you burnt,
And soon enough it will be your turn.
I'm angry. I'm angry because British politicians are calling a pacifist vegetarian radical because he doesn't want to **** thousands of people half way around the world and impoverish his people further. And it looks certain that the government of my country are going to bomb Syria, and pass the bill to me. I'm angry because a Palastinian has been sentenced to death by the House of Sau of Arabia because of poetry and abondoning his faith. The West shakes hands and rolls out the red carpet for these monsters. Isn't that evidence enough that they don't care for anything just or humane in this world? They don't care about freedom! They care about profit.
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
To talk about this
Is so asinine;
That's why I hesitate
Every ******* time
The phone rings,
And opportunity comes around;
I pick up the receiver
And slam it down
Then proceed to curl up
And sob myself to sleep;
This is commonplace--
Every night of the week;
And sometimes I just want to scream
'Can you make my demons die?'
Until now, I've chosen not to;
Now's the time.

'Hello, stranger,
I'm sorry to bother you;
But there's nobody in my life
That I can turn to;
The lights are all switched off,
And I'm the only one home;
And now I'm rambling on
To some poor ******* on the phone.
But these words I'm choking on
Are words I need to say:
It's an inconvenient truth,
But I'm really not okay.
People run the other way
When there's honesty in my voice;
And I'm left standing on my own
Crying out to white noise'.
I've been dying to say this for so long. The first chapter in the book of solving problems is about acknowledging there is one. This is exactly how I feel when I try and talk to somebody about my own mental state. The sad fact is this: I'm not as stable as I would like to be--in fact I'm in one thousand different pieces inside. I've tried speaking to my family, a therapist, and even my boss about the bleakness I feel surrounded by, and I've either been blamed for it, or dismissed because of it. Over the years, I have thrown punches in all directions trying to fight my own pain. In the end, I have come to realise that I can't beat it. So in an attempt to save my own life, here it is: acknowledgement of my problems.

This is not just about me, either. I know that a lot of people probably feel the same. So please be aware of the fact that a smile can be faked, and a laugh can be put on all the same. But the truth is, in some people, the darkness of the night swallows the day.
991 · Nov 2015
I Know Hell
Mouthpiece Nov 2015
Dear world, today is the day I'm breaking free;
I'm sick of being blue in the face and screaming.
I won't do it anymore; nobody ******* hears me
Anyway, so I've grown tired of my anguish and disbelief,
As I have to the rubble my feet are ****** up by,
As I have done to black smoke blotting out the sky.
I'll make you all ******* weep just as I have cried.
This is a letter to the world, and an explanation why.

Dear world, a few years ago, I got my diploma in engineering;
I settled down, found a wife, had a son, and gave him a sibling.
You should have seen them; my wife's face outshined every diamond ring,
And the laughter of my children was the sweetest thing.
The three of them together always lead to a melting of my heart.
I could write of them forever, but I wouldn't know where to start.
Life was perfect; even the dullest of nights were never dark
Or bleak. Everything was a dream that I never wished to depart.

Dear world, a while back, my village felt one of the first blasts
As a result of of a launched missile. We were under attack.
I immediately grabbed my family and tried to escape out the back
Of our home, when suddenly, I heart a chain of cracks
That left our yard a bloodbath. I did not have the faintest idea
Of where they came from, but carnage was all I could here.
I stood up, not knowing a bullet had pulled apart my ear;
I was too busy looking at bits of my family, there and here.

Dear world, after that, I consider myself unlucky
Because all I wish is that the bullets would have hit me.
My home land, my country, has lost all of its stability.
Now I walk in a daze, remembering my family,
My only loves. My university is no longer a thought
Or memory; it is smashed bricks in a pile on the floor.
And I used to often be one end of a phone call,
Where old friends told me their families were ***** and murdered in the war.

Dear world, I can't get the images of gritted teeth
And clenched eyes out my head. They're scalded into me.
How could people do such things to our peaceful society?
I think this every mile through Europe that passes me.
I have a bomb in my car with me. I no longer care.
I'm going to take from the world what they took from me--it's only fair.
I'll die a villain, I know; but where was your humanity--where!?
I have picked my destination. I'll finish when I'm there.

Dear world, this is the final part of my letter to you.
My mind has not changed at all. After all, what would you do
If planes and helicopters took everything you ever knew
Away for good? I never wanted this, but it's the only situation to
Ending the pain I cradle. I loved you, but I'm almost near
The end of the line. My finger is on the button. I feel no fear.
I know ****. I see it every day. I live here,
And heaven is anywhere away from the bloodshed and tears.
Written from the perspective of a Muslim who lost everything during a western lead bombing raid. This was inspired by a report I read that some US states are no longer welcoming Syrian refugees, stocks' values in arms companies going through the roof yesterday and today, and after the weekend's events in Paris. I am in no way condoning blood-for-blood mindsets, and nor am I sympathetic to extremists who elect to blow themselves up, killing millions of civilians in the process. The purpose of this piece is to show that violence perpetuates violence. Has war ever solved anything? The short answer is no. The long answer is **** no. It's time for people to realise that this kind of thing affects us all, and that there are so, so many brilliant people who have had their faith hijacked by monsters. Every single Muslim I have ever met has been nothing short of remarkable, so don't let stuff like the above ruin something beautiful.
989 · Mar 2016
Black Umbrellas
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
Business workers
Scuttling in the rain:
Dark suits and
Black umbrellas,
Keeping their woes warm,
Instead of letting
The rain
Wash them away.
We are not born to pay taxes and make some big wigs richer. Revolution is needed.
962 · Jun 2015
My Gift to You
Mouthpiece Jun 2015
Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts?

Let me catch my breath;
With every minute of absence, your grip tightens 'round my chest.
It's been just a few days, yet you will not vacate my head;
You're trickling through me instead.

With your fingers 'round my heart,
I wonder whether you have truly felt this way from the start;
Or were the words you said a cruel and twisted joke on your part?
I'm not sure how you'd answer; either way I've already fallen apart.

Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts?

My gift to you is the heart that you now hold.
Not one week has passed, but I'd glady hand over my soul.
Who am I trying to fool? You already have complete control.
I wonder if I'll ever call you my own.

Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts
With me?
So I wrote a poem last night and hated it immediately, resulting in its prompt enjaculation from my collection. This is its replacement.
Should I call it My Gift to You, or Wondering?
962 · Oct 2015
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
Where I grew up,
Both sides of the track are wrong;
Yeah, life was tough
'Cause it was spent where no humans belong--
Stuck lookin' skywards towards affluence,
Spendin' each and every day
Wondering where it went,
While listening to the **** politicians say.
Growth and the free market
Mean nothing to me,
'Cause I'm not their target
When they yammer on about GDP.
They can try and jar their 'truths'
Into the centre of my head;
But us poor folk are like troops:
Each day they sentence us to death.

You're lucky to escape
Housing owned by the council,
And dodge meeting your fate
Up close and personal,
Watching it cackle
As your warmth slowly leaves you;
Living is a battle
That time puts you through.
There are streets the police
Dare not go down at night,
Firearms and drugs keep the peace
As ****** occurs in broad daylight.
That's why I say 'open your eyes
And take a look at what they're doin' to us;
Nobody will care, nobody will cry
If we're wiped off the earth like dust.
Wake up'.
A warm up to the next project I am embarking upon: Mouthpiece's second album. I have been struggling to write of late, so I'm trying to pull the really creative and raw parts out of me, by writing mediocre poems I don't care for.
959 · Feb 2015
Wise Words
Mouthpiece Feb 2015
Truth is, you're going to die someday.
You should never partake in manual labour on a Sunday.
There's nothing more friendly than a person with tattoos deeper than their skin.
There is no such thing as sin.
All the world's problems could be solved at the drop of a hat.
You're the only person who eternally has your back.
Kindness should come naturally -- without the incentive of personal gain.
There's nothing more attractive than a beautiful brain.
Power is our only enemy.
Inside each of us there is some sort of spirituality.
You look fine.
Do as little as possible when trading a wage for your time.
You are not perfect.
There are life lessons, not regrets.
You can be as good -- or bad -- as anybody who has ever lived.
For the earth, everybody has something to give.
Guys at bars who chat you up do not want to be just friends.
Everything will end.
All people in a position of authority have self-interest at heart.
We all ****.
Anything man-made can be mended.
It says more about her, not you, what your friend said.
Nothing was possible at some point or other.
Everybody on this planet has a mother.
Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of.
All lose, and all love.
If you cut me I bleed; if I cut you, you bleed.
Children should be heard and seen.
As soon as money enters the soul of something, that thing is dead.
Some of the wisest words will go left unsaid.
This was written on the 23rd February 2015, and was inspired by Thou Shall Always **** by Scroobius Pip
942 · Dec 2016
To Death
Mouthpiece Dec 2016
I killed God
And I'm glad I did;
Some poor sod's
Gonna have to pick up the pieces,
All those tiny shards
I played with,
Pushing them through my heart
For my thesis.

If you like it
You don't have to quit.

When I die
Hold my skull aloft
And laugh at the jokes
I once told--
They never get old;
But for now, meet me
At the cemetery gates,
And kiss me amidst your haze.

If you like it
You don't have to quit.
I don't want the world to see me,
So please keep breathing

And hold my skull aloft;
Scoff at the jokes
I once told;
They never get old.
This piece is about love. I think people look for reasons to not love, rather than just accepting what they feel towards something as love, not realising that nothing matters ultimately. I'm a ardent nihilist, and I believe that we should just love for the sake of loving, as I do. This is, again, aimed at and dedicated to the same person, as is Smoke and Glitter; please note the reoccurring themes.
There is also a wider meaning to this piece. As I'm sure you guessed, 'To Death' comes from 'Love you to death', but I'm trying to explain that people don't need justification to love, we should just love, hence the metaphorical killing of God, symbolising that I don't need any value system to love what I love and denounce that which I denounce. Bonus points for And Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Hamlet, and Morrissey references, which I feel encompass my attempts to relay this message of liberation.
924 · Aug 2017
Mouthpiece Aug 2017
Reporters say
   total eclipses are rare

They're wrong

Total eclipses are visible
   every eighteen months
      somewhere on Earth

Perception makes both I
   and eye
      the centre of the universe
Struggling to write of late, and this is the best I can come up with. It goes to show you how the media can trap us and how we can trap ourselves in our own narrow slice, our own tunnel vision. Enjoy your total eclipse this 21st, America. It'll remind us all how insignificant we are; even though it seems as if your country is eating itself alive, it doesn't matter in the end.
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
As I stood in awe, watching the firelight,
Watching the smoke pour into the dawn,
I concluded that all is finite;
Nothing spans all time, nothing at all.

Captain told us we had reached Charlie's stronghold,
After hours of stalking in darkness' cover;
We reached houses--or shacks--decrepit and old,
With minimal difference between one and another.

In blind fury, we stormed each building,
Firing bullets as if they were going out of fashion;
And each building became a block of blood and screaming.
All the while, we were stone-faced, lacking all compassion.

The final building was mine to clear,
A young girl and her mother were inside;
Captain told me that they can sense fear,
So I had better not run and hide.

He put his gun to the girl's head,
And removed her clothing piece by piece.
Her mother screamed, and without blinking, I shot her dead,
As Captain ***** the girl, in the name of peace.

He said, 'democracy is sometimes strange',
As he watched the girl cower ***** in a corner.
'She is a witness', he said, so he blew out her brains,
And at length said, 'nobody's gonna mourn her'.

We left the scene burning, leaving no evidence.
We left for home on a ship, all smiles and laughs,
Travelling for hours across continents;
But in my silence, the truth become clear at last.

Now, ruby-red rivers run from my wrists;
Gun to my head was never part of the plan,
But nothing can possibly get worse than this--
Memories of distant deaths from distant lands.
This follows the story of a soldier who has witnessed atrocities that are all too common in real life. I wrote in this style, in an attempt to show the narrator's lack of emotion, and to try and keep it short. It is also a possible entry to my second project; however, I'm not too sure about it, as this took me all of ten minutes to write.
Finally, a huge thank you to all the people who have given me love recently! I never intended of getting a piece of mine selected for daily; I used this site to vent my feelings, and that was all. Thank you once again!
907 · Aug 2016
Mouthpiece Aug 2016
Nail down the duvet;
I'm going to be late,
Sooner than you thought.
I've bled far too much
To start again from scratch,
And I don't want to walk
All that way.

I feel so sick,
But I can't see it.

You don't have to say a thing,
It won't stop the aching;
Haven't you guessed enough?
Laughter's like a landslide;
Don't you read the road signs?
Turn away, don't look,
Close the door behind you;
This is nothing new.
Please make sure it's firmly shut
For another day.

I feel so sick,
But I don't see it.
I feel sick,
Can you believe it?
To be read slowly.
903 · Dec 2014
The Silly Games You Play
Mouthpiece Dec 2014
You chose the canvas and the colours,
So don't look my way if the masterpiece turned out a mess.
Your creative interpretation will guarantee not to impress --
And you should have guessed, the meagerness of your mind,
Would make it easy for the scholarly to feel otherwise inclined;
Because, my love,
You're just not good enough.
What do you know about yourself if you don't like things getting rough --
Except in the sack;
That much is obvious by the scars carved in my back.

It's the silly games you play
That leave you greatly disappointed
At the end of every day;
The finger that you point should be aimed at your own head because,
It's the silly games you play.
I've been slightly vitriolic with this piece. It was written some time go now, and is about my ex girlfriend, who wasted years of my life that I could have spent with the girl I am infatuated with.
900 · Aug 2015
Mouthpiece Aug 2015
I'm certain that I've seen this part before;
I'm sure that, if this is that thing called life,
I've lived it two thousand times or more.
I'm stuck here, in this darkened room,
And I just want to know you.

I talk to the walls, but they ignore me.
It's years now since I've witnessed the sunlight;
Instead, I close my eyes and repeat
Your name, in the darkened room,
Because I only need you.
Why is writing about the depth of love I feel for people so difficult?
898 · Feb 2015
Scum Like Me
Mouthpiece Feb 2015
This girl I knew, she grew up on the right side of town;
I didn't think it would make a difference, but I do now,
Oh she made her daddy proud --
But he never knew about me.

He packed her bags and sent her off to university,
Caring only for her getting a first in her degree
So she was away from **** like me;
I doubt he knows about me now.

The night I met her I was out on the lash,
I'd had a skin-full and was now out of cash,
So I walked to the bank.
Whilst in the queue, a strange sound caught my ear;
It was her voice, she wasn't from around here --
So I then took a chance.
I tapped her on the shoulder and simply said 'hey';
She turned 'round and saw me and led me away;
Well what a nice surprise.
She grabbed me and said 'show me what you can do';
How could I refuse her? She was beautiful --
If only to my eyes.
I felt bad when I said: 'I've got no money',
She replied by saying that she had plenty,
So we drank a bit more.
We got a cab, and she took me to her place;
I still recall the eagerness on her face
As we went through the door.
In an instant we were ***** and kissing,
This proceeded to heavy breaths and sweating,
As we ****** through the night.
I had her gasping, screaming -- she bit me hard --
And to this day, I still carry all the scars,
Like I've been calved with knives.
We did this on and off for quite a few years,
But then one day, she completely disappeared --
And I had not a clue.
Several lovers later, I bumped into her;
I tried to talk, but she simply did not care;
I then pushed on through.

She looked at me in disgust as if I was to blame --
But, then she said she can't be seen with **** like me again,
She must maintain her family name:
'A higher class than you'.

But this is the ***** truth -- a lesson for those like you:
Your kind might be quite well off, but, the *** makes us equal,
Regardless of status of social,
It makes us all the same.
This is a piece I wrote this evening, and it tries to explain that we, as humans, are all equal. I chose ***, because it is the most fundimental desire for humans. No matter who we are, what our job is, what car we drive, what clothes we wear, what food we eat, whether we are rich or poor, handsome or ****, we all have this in common at least!
887 · Jan 2017
Mouthpiece Jan 2017
Fill me with your tragedy;
Fill me to the brim and **** me,
Lead me to the noose
That I'll slip my neck into;
It fits like a glove,
Stands out like your thumb.
To be sure, load your bow
Fill me with your amo,
Because chaos
Brings order,

And life before her
Was standing in line
Waiting to die.

Face down, beneath dancing stars,
Floating in your reservoirs,
Colourless between the clouds;
In the silence of the world, we drown
All else out.
We'll build a house
Out of our bones,
Call it our home,
Because chaos
Brings order,

And life before her
Was standing in line
Waiting to die.
For K, and about love. K has basically showed me a side of life I never thought existed, qualities in a human I never hoped I'd ever meet. K, you make me feel like a person for a moment of my life <3
For those reading who aren't K, there are a lot of in-references here that only K and I will understand, so you are forgiven if you think I've lost myself again.
886 · Oct 2016
Better the Devil You Know
Mouthpiece Oct 2016
Soles on the felt so bare and cold;
A brave girl watched from a window.
The wind three floors up feels routine,
The final breath tastes so clean;
Took a step back thanks to the Devil I know, but

Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette
Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette.

Laugh it off and go on with the show,
But I ain't as clean as a whistle;
I'm dying to reach the moon
And avoid hitting the soil too soon;
That's the nature of the brawl, 'cos

Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette
Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette.

I prefer death to revealing talk;
Left the bar but was too drunk to walk
To the river, that's the secret
I wrestle with and wish I kept,
And I still don't know how I got home, now

Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette
Between the sheets, I sleep with a cigarette.

Soles on the felt so bare and cold;
A brave girl watched from a window.
The wind three floors up feels routine
The final breath tastes so clean;
Took a step back thanks to the Devil I know.
I'm going to be quite candid now. If you made it this far, today is significant. It's world mental health day. Today is also a month on from when I stood on top of a roof, ready to jump, only to be stopped by somebody watching me. The night before, I tried to throw myself in a river. Guys, don't suffer in silence, please. Don't keep secrets. Be fully aware of your mental state. These thoughts aren't supposed to happen. The only constant in life is change, and things will change. Don't try and find a permanent solution to something that will change.
Be in good health!
885 · Mar 2016
Is this what Love Is?
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
Let's all laugh at the funny man;
We told him exactly what w me want,
So let's sit back and watch him dance.
He must impress if he wants to talk.

She's got the figure I like:
Big ***** and an empty head.
She's my goal for tonight;
But she must shave if we're to ****.

I took advice from the Internet:
Keep your sentences to a minimum;
Smile and look like you're adventurous;
Then you stand a chance of getting some.

I wish my soul could get *****.
I wish my thoughts were attractive.
I wish that you'd choose to swim in my depth;
But is this what love is?
Satirical poetry, my favourite.
879 · Sep 2015
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Pictures are the only things that ensure moments never die,
So I guess I'll have to make do until we reach the next time
We meet, when I'll take you home and we'll both head our separate ways;
And I'll wait, once again, for what seems like an endless chain of days,
Hypnotised by the constant supply of pictures of you,
And the thoughts of all the rigmarole we never got to go through.

I secretly say 'I love you' when you are nowhere to be found,
And the waves of silence fill the room; it's such an awful sound.
I wonder when we meet if you sense my vulnerability,
Or if you know that you've took me by the hand, and hurled me to the sea.
I keep trying to lie to myself, but sadly, I know the score;
My head and my heart are no longer mine; darling, they're yours.
When you want and don't want something at the same time, your head hurts.
877 · May 2015
As Clear as Day
Mouthpiece May 2015
I remember that night as clear as day:
The way you talked, and the way
You struggled to walk in your high heals. When you swayed,
Which chalked my outline on the floor, paved
With some sort of adhesive, which I have stayed
Stuck to, distraught and helpless, since you walked away.

I recall how the smoke glided around you
And reluctantly broke away, swirling off into
The night. The way I choked, after never being used
To being speechless. I froze, and madness ensued
In my head and heart; no prose would suit --
Any I could have chose, but all would be unfit for you.

I'm petrified that I might go blind again
If I see you; my eyes burn all the same
When open wide, and looking at your picture in a frame
Completely mesmerised, as all around me is razed
To blatant lies, like the years gone by like I say.
I remember that night as clear as day.

That squeeze you gave me did not last long,
But to me, it felt like a lifetime. After being strong
Without you, you broke me with a single glance,
And that unequalled smile and coy stance
Tore my life into millions of pieces,
And sewed it back together with imaginary kisses.
You're in the page, right here in front of me --
Despite being the other side of the country
And just a montage in my mind from when you filled the room,
When it was made official that I'd met my doom.
It's all well and good, wanting to be friends,
But unfortunately for me that's not where it ends.
I refuse to let my love end in any other way,
Because I remember that night as clear as day.
I think this describes my current quandary perfectly.
864 · Sep 2015
Thank You (not a poem)
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Nine months ago to the day, I joined HelloPoetry. To tell you the truth, I was terrified of doing so. I had never shown anybody my work before, which basically means that I had never shown anybody my inner-most thoughts, feelings, and desires.

I have never exposed myself more to the world in this way, but at long last, being ***** isn't cold. And I have nobody in the world to thank, other than the people who have read my work. Each time I see my 'read counter' go up, I know that I either have a fan, or I can come up with titles that draw people in. If you love or hate how I write, what I write about, or any other particulars about Mouthpiece, then I thank you for the pit of my being. I was terrified of being hated and rejected, as I've always felt my poetry is a little unorthodox, and would make a mockery of the fantastic stuff I read on hear every-single-day. Now, 25,000 reads on, I'm hooked. And you, the people of this site, are the kindest addiction one could ask for. So again, thank you so, so much. You have no idea what it means to me.

Now, if you're interested, I have a little secret to let everybody in on: I am currently undergoing a very ambitious project, which has taken me a few years to plan out alone. I am writing my debut novel, entitled Mouthpiece. It follows a fictitious band. The pieces I write and subsequently post to my page are to be songs on the band's albums. And I have the first one set out already. It follows the lyricist's quest for love (which is basically my quest for love), and the pieces I have chosen are as follows:
My Gift to You
Somewhere Quiet/Loud and Clear
Like a House on Fire
I'm in Need of Professional Medical Help
Letter to God
You've Murdered Me, and I wish to Return the Favour
Leaving is Not an Option (which needs to be written).
Of course, if you have any input to my idea, things I should use, or would just like to talk, feel free. I'm on this site every day. If you would like to read the stuff I have written, and suggest any alterations, go right ahead and do so :)!

Thank you once again, each and every one of you.
852 · Apr 2017
Roll the Fuck Up
Mouthpiece Apr 2017
You look right through me
I see right through you
You only ever lie to me
Why should I believe you now?

You've got a hand basket
Made of policemen's ears
We're going south again
Because emotions equal evidence

Look at you, bright-eyed and foaming
Hang the future with this yellow umbilical cord
Dead babies line the roadside
Are you happy now?

You look right through me
I see right through you
You only ever lie to me
Why should I believe you now?
The media and the west have wanted war with Syria for a long, long time now. And, within hours, they both had 'evidence' that the recent chemical weapons attack was carried out by Assad. There's no evidence that's been disclosed. There's a history not on their side. In 2013, Assad was, again, a criminal, unleashing sarin gas onto his own population, that is until it was discovered that the FSA, aligned with such moderates as Al Nusra Front and ISIS, launched the attack, then the entire narrative disappeared off the face of the earth. Remember Iraq, and the evidence of WMDs? Why can't we see ******* sense for once in our lives? Why would Assad do this when he's winning a war the whole world is watching and itching to get involved in? Why would he give them an excuse? There's an agenda afoot. There has been for several years now, for over a decade at least. Never, ever believe the media when they show you dying people and play on your emotions. Never, ever believe them, no matter how much it hurts, when they say they have evidence that you haven't seen with your own eyes. Never let them sell you down the river, ever. Too many people are dead because of it, and more will die thanks to it too.
847 · Jan 2017
Mouthpiece Jan 2017
Legs wrapped in the chair, hands clutch a warm teacup;
I'm not paranoid, I know what's chasing us.
There's a futility to all this, sweetness;
Doesn't mean we don't need saving.

Your tobacco curls around your fingertips,
Pages turning so fast the paper rips.
There's a futility to this, sweetness;
Doesn't mean we don't need saving.

And you can save me.

Don't stop smoking, we'll suffocate;
The air's been too tasteless of late.
There's a futility to all this, sweetness;
Doesn't mean we must stay in control.

And you can save me.
See Smoke, Glitter, and To Death. Same themes, same dedication.
A weird one will be coming up next!
842 · Jan 2016
Mouthpiece Jan 2016
Why am I here?
That's a question I've asked myself many times,
But what difference does it make?
I'm the result of a twenty something's mistake, so deal with it
And stop watching broken clocks trying to guess when the time is right.
Though, you ought to know that, at night, the only sounds
I hear are those of empty pens scratching paper
And the cogs in my head grinding to a halt
Because I deliberately threw salt into my wounds.
I'm not as calculated as I thought; but does that matter?
The stale blood that stains the floor is a sight I've seen before
Because I don't feed myself food for thought;
I don't drink bleach and hope that I'm reborn.
Instead, I focus on the web of worlds at my fingertips-
By force or by choice, I don't know which.
What I do know is that my fists clenched something so tightly,
Something I refused to give away lightly until you came
And asked so politely if you could have it.
I said yes.
Now I cannot stress how much I regret my decision nightly
As I play doctor with rock n roll, excess cheap ***, bottle necks and tourniquets.
None of them did the trick or stopped the itch;
I need a proper fix--the one I found in you.
I don't know what to do but hurl myself into stacks of needles
And mounds of barren skulls that remind me that I'm insignificant.
I fail every time to find you, and I wonder afterwards where life went.
Why am I here?
That's a question I've asked myself many times.
I've decided to add this to my fictional band's debut album Mouthpiece. I hope you find it a fitting end to the poems I have included in said album.
842 · Sep 2016
Johnnie and Ginger
Mouthpiece Sep 2016
Down at the office,
This kind of behavour
Can't be tolerated;
All of the bosses
Have blemishes to savour
On their faces.
Grey suits, plain ties,
Great wives, great lives, facades
They hide behind.
For better or for worse,
Johnnie's the doctor,
******'s the cure.

I'm terribly unsure
Whether it's ascension,
Or the same old corkscrew.
I'm terribly mature
Enough to make decisions,
Or am I too quick to assume?

Some among us
Like to beat their drums
As others empty their guns.
It's common sense
To turn up late, still drunk
And better off numb.
We can't escape
This place alive;
We'll never make it.
For better or for worse,
Johnnie's the doctor,
******'s the cure.

I'm terribly unsure
Whether it's ascension
Or the same old corkscrew.
I'm terribly mature
Enough to make decisions,
Or am I too quick to assume?
The joys of alcohol and nihilism.
837 · Apr 2015
Loud and Clear
Mouthpiece Apr 2015
Have you seen me jump through hoops --
Set ablaze? -- mostly these days 'cause of the lack of things you do.
Do you want to know the truth?
Let's put it this way: I had no idea there were so many shades of grey, until I fell right in to you.
Did you know you've lead a coup?
I guess not because you went away, and in your wake you soaked me in blue glue.
Now there will never be somebody new:
I'm still here, trying to find you.

The silence is loud and clear,
And my heart knows it too well --
Better with each beat that you're not here.
And as far as I can tell,
The future brings no change, I fear;
And my heart knows too well
That the silence is loud and clear.

Do you recognise my bones?
Well they've looked you in the face while my grace slowly heads towards the stone,
'Cause you never cared to phone;
And now my psyche is out of place, hidden in some shadowed space that is yet to become known.
I'm dying to read that poem --
Make no mistake, you'd have left it late, but still I spin 'round and 'round in this cyclone:
Love drunk and alone.
Show me the way to go home?

The silence is loud and clear,
And my heart knows it too well --
Better with each beat that you're not here.
And as far as I can tell,
The future brings no change, I fear;
And my heart knows too well
That the silence is loud and clear.
I wrote this today. Hopefully, my point is well and truly made.
There are certain parts which I don't expect people will understand, as it was written to her, and only she would know.
829 · Feb 2016
Burning Cigarettes
Mouthpiece Feb 2016
There's no need to explain why I was there,
Where the air shuns character for purpose,
Where you sweat buckets under the sheets
And the days just come and go.
There's no need to explain why my bones creaked,
Or why I found it hard to swallow
Because there's a withered old man in the bed beside me,
And 'he might not make tomorrow'.

That's what a nurse told me;
His condition was the worst they'd seen
During his stay. This was my first day,
So I couldn't reply; instead I'd lie
Motionless and listen to what they had to say.
They called him bitter and twisted;
Like every word he hissed was a closed fist
That he threw and made them kiss it;

But I didn't even know his name;
He sat in silence, blankly gazing at the TV
As the hours stumbled by, without a glint
In his eyes. I wanted to ask him what it
Felt like knowing he could die at any moment,
But I couldn't find the nerve to do it;
So I kept quiet, and kept watching
Until dusk set in and he said

'I'd normally want a penny for my thoughts,
But what good would it do me now?
So whatever you want to say, say it, but
Cut the *******; I've said a thousand times
That I don't want to die--not yet,
I have regrets that I need to overcome;
So let's get this done and dusted'.
I asked him

'What did you used to do?'
'I used to burn cigarettes', he replied.
'I used to burn cigarettes, but not to smoke;
I'd watch the ash hold firm until it reached the ****
Then watch it fall apart and float away in the breeze.
Now I'm here, not at ease, holding on tight,
Waiting for the final hour, watching the
Minute hand creep its way towards midnight'.

He turned away after that,
And I immediately wanted to ask
What it meant, but away he went,
Drifting off to nostalgia, to days
In the shade sipping ice cold lemonade,
Until he succumb to sleep.
He looked at peace, softly
Inhaling and exhaling beneath the sheets.

The morning came, and I sat up;
Nurses were all around him trying
To calm a fuss, but no machines buzzed
Or sounded alarms. It was a haze,
But from what I can remember,
The old man had only refused some grapes
Because he wanted to stay asleep.
That's what he told me anyway.

After a while, when the nurses left,
He asked if I had any questions;
I asked him about his regrets
And without hesitation, he said
'I wish I'd slept around more,
Caught a couple of diseases and broken some laws'.
There seemed to be a struggle after that,
But he managed a smile.

'Jokes aside', he continued, 'I wish that
I knew how to cry. I listened to every
Tom, ****, and Harry who told me I shouldn't;
They said what to believe but never told me why.
And I still can't--not even at this time.
I'm alive for now, but for how much longer?
I don't know, and after all is said
And done, what do I have to show

'Except a hardened cigarette ****?
A shell of a man who refused to lie down.
I've stood up to gravity long enough
But I can't admit that it will drag me to the ground.
I battled badly, and I've got many scars
Thanks to my wars, but just one conclusion:
It takes a lot more than pain to know
How fragile we really are.

'Have you ever had that dream
In which you're falling? I have,
And I know now that it's a warning;
We walk a tightrope called life,
And our subconscious is only brave enough to
Tell us that we will fall when we sleep at night.
I burned cigarettes instead of smoking them;
That's my regret'.

I didn't even know his name,
But that's the last thing he said to me;
I was rushed off to surgery,
And by the time I got back, his bed was empty.
He died, the nurses said, in a
Flurry and seemingly great haste,
With a smile they'd never seen before,
And tear marks down his face.
I hate this, but I stick to my words and post everything I write. I am starting to consider this a draft piece, but I'm trying to get across that life does end quicker than you can imagine, so live it.
824 · Mar 2016
Stir Crazy
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
I'm looking down
At a train wreck
And some mangled
Thin bodies;
Faces smiling,
Swelling as they
Channel surf
Their T.V.
Mirrors smudged
And decorated
With fresh bursts
Of acne.
Rock-hard socks
And libido
Tucked away
Under bedding.

'Tread the grooves
You know so well,
And when you're
Done, go to sleep.
Don't forget to
Cuff the bottoms
Of your new
T-shirt's sleeves.
Comb your hair
And wrap up warm
'Cause outside the wind's
Picking up speed.'
Do you want
To examine my
Bald patches
And crows' feet?

I'm trying my utmost
To make it snow,
But instead
It only sleets.
This formaldehyde
That flows between
My teeth is
Growing weak.
There's ****
Seeping out from
The scabs that I
Have on my knees.
I'm hanging 'round
The corners of my head,
If you would
Like to join me.
The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again, whilst expecting things to change.
823 · Dec 2014
This Beauty I See
Mouthpiece Dec 2014
I feel that this is not the way things ought to be,
This beauty I see -- in fact I know it;
But the words I paint will never change your mind as they fail to show it.
This pallet of passion and bloodshed is real to me --
This beauty I see.

It fails to smash the slightest chip in your teeth,
Break bones in your feet -- or blacken your eyes.
If my knuckles miss you completely there is no shock or surprise.
A catalog of portraits in black and white of me:
This beauty I see.

Frustration always has me gnawing at the walls
And nobody calls -- their minds remain whole;
Could they even relate to my dreams? Do they want to sell their souls?
Dying without scars, loving December bleak.
This beauty I see.
What better way to start a blog of poems than a poem about poetry? This piece was written on Tuesday 17th December 2014, and it's about my love of writing, but, it ultimately not getting any attention at all (whether that's because my attempts are bad or not I'm not entirely sure), and how I wish people would see how profound each off my 400+ collection is.
821 · Feb 2015
Like A House On Fire
Mouthpiece Feb 2015
All these thoughts they make me really want to be sick;
Trying to explain this emotion is like,
Deciding what gun and bullets to shoot you with.
.I just need to strike the right match
And let us go up in flames;
But you've left and locked the door behind you,
And walked away as I've burned again.

And I don't know when this house will next be set alight;
All I do know is that I die the same death every night

I'm not ******, I know what self-destruction is;
I'm fully aware, I've done it to myself
Countless times over you, and the cravings you give.
I just need to strike the right match
And let us go up in flames;
But you've left and locked the door behind you,
And walked away as I've burned again.

And I don't know when this house will next be set alight;
All I do know is that I die the same death every night.
I wrote this over the course of the past hour. This is another poem about her. I've been wanting to write dark, romantic pieces about love, and I will focus on doing them much more. To me, this shows love in every light possible, it's much deeper and beautiful in this form. There's nothing better than writing a piece that basically says that you could happily die with the person you adore.
818 · Aug 2016
Mouthpiece Aug 2016
Once upon a time I thought I heard the angels sing,
Now I'm falling through the universe, bellowing--
No, don't save me--

Bellowing in vain, searching for the symphony that exists somewhere,
Searching the ether, moving heaven and earth, on a wing and a prayer;
I pray to God the Devil cares

Because you stared down the barrel
Of the empty parts of me,
Purged all in your path at my peril,
By witchcraft or sorcery.
Will my fires rage forever in history?

I knelt at the pulpit as you glanced the grindstone,
Ordered me to comfort you with my fond memories of home;
There were none

As my lovers found their faith in some other shrine,
Jesting as I trembled the path along their guidelines,
Reloading their carbines,

Because you climbed down the barrel
Of the empty parts of me,
Purged all in your path at my peril,
By witchcraft or sorcery.
Will my fires rage forever in somebody?
I chose the word 'benign' for two different reasons, both relating to the word's two dictionary definitions. There are also two subject topics in this piece, which is what makes living benign from a personal perspective. This again, relates to the two definitions. I'll take the time to explain if you're that way inclined. I wish HP would allow writers to annotate their works.
811 · Feb 2017
Smile in Our Sleep
Mouthpiece Feb 2017
Hands laced in dangling cobwebs
Hang down into the pockets
Turning them inside out

This is the dream on a canvas
Wooden beams and video cameras
I don't see no problem here

Paint me the colour of lead
A picturesque white picket fence

And we can go inside and smile in our sleep
Go to bed and smile in our sleep
We can smile in our sleep

Cramping, cramping

Our house is beautiful
Turn up the TV if you want to
There's poison in the water

Wait till I get my hands on you
I'm never gonna let go
The tingling is torture

Baby, I love you to death
I guess I'm gonna plead the fifth

Then we can go inside and smile in our sleep
Go to bed and smile in our sleep
We can smile in our sleep
This is for K, the unsung hero I've come to know and love completely. We said we love each other for the first time 6 days ago. I've heard it countless times since, and it gets better each and every time.
K, you are the candle that vanquishes all darkness in a dark room, and I love you, more than I could ever put into words.
I want to explain this piece a lot, but poetry without mystery is not poetry.
Mouthpiece Jul 2015
When the front door shut behind me,
Following our detour 'round the city,
I saw my blurry reflection in the mirror.
Baby, I don't know how you undressed me,
But I can see that I'm shirtless already;
And I can tell that you're not much of a giver.

So you got just what you wanted,
And refuse to give any of it back;
Therefore, in this circumstance,
I think I'll stumble towards the sack;
'Cause I'm haunted by the way we danced,
And the way you made my rib cage *****;
And you haven't got a clue about it.

In slumber, you deal me the dangerous death,
Which the two cousins are oh so familiar with:
The things that I want but cannot have, i.e,
You; the girl I've seen in all my dreams.
Lord knows I'll sleep tonight.
Following on from the piece I posted yesterday. About the same girl, who has plunged me back into the eternal see called love.
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