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Courage wears a pleated mini skirt  
Red tights and Mary Janes
Gold shadow in the corner of her eye
Courage wears a **** bra
Three shades darker from two weeks worth of sweat
A silken ivory blouse, first two—
No— first three buttons undone
Scrubs
Courage wears overalls
Rolled at the ankles
A nose ring
Butterfly clip and an old locket
Courage wears men’s boxers on a female body
Dr. Marten’s with the chunky soles
Carabiner on the (right) belt loop
And her grandfather’s leather belt
Courage wears gold hoops and a silver watch
White after Labor Day and off-white on her wedding day
A lab coat in the morning, a breast pump at lunch, and a little black dress later tonight
Courage wears a uniform
Hand-me-downs and Goodwill sneakers
Cheap lingerie and slutty stilettos
An orange jumpsuit
Camouflage
Courage wears a binder to church
A burqa to school
Box braids in the office
Courage wears the pants
Wears the shoe when it fits
Wears her heart on her sleeve
Wears pain like a badge of honor
Courage wears a kitten heel
Even when it goes out of style
Entombed on the outskirts
of hero township
sits a once Arcadian jewel
turned relic

its vast wings spread
as an eagle
but the days of flight
long exhausted

sullen close-down signs and banners
hang minatory from
a fractured glass ceiling
-- a terminal remainder

spots of rain fall thru strewn wreckage
along the counters of a fossilized department store

inchworms journey down
the massive teeth of a frozen
escalator descended from
the empty heavens

creepy crawlers move about
remnants of a food court
in search of morsels

like the droves of
holiday shoppers
that once haunted this place

before betraying it
for the shiny new toy
across the highway
Choose a side
that fits you best.
Because obviously the other side caused this fracking mess.
And the fools that left
and the fools that followed
in a deep swap of tyranny their oligarchs wallow..
This hegemonic presence is a fierce flame to keep.
Could’ve been, should’ve been careful of all the evil that they’ve heaped..
Traveler 🧳 Tim

So many distractions to keep us from paying attention to the elephant in the room, genocide wars in the Middle East.
Big bad Trump, crazy old Biden, but not a word of Gaza or Yemen on our wonderful news media.
That’s the power of western hegemony!
 Apr 15 Nishu Mathur
alia
The moon left me a note last night,
Tucked in a cloud, soft and white.
It whispered, “Why rush through the sky?
Even stars take their time to shine.”
Just like that, outta the blue
I realize that no matter what I do
There'll never ever be another you
And it hurts like hell...
Btw, how great is Chet Baker??
 Apr 15 Nishu Mathur
Maria
My heartlet is crying, crying.
It means it’s hurt of lying.
It means it’s been stepped on again.
Its faith has been killed disdain.

And again it’s like an abandoned whelp
In a field of unmown grass with no help,
Is looking for path and crying, crying.
It means it’s in lots of pain. It’s dying.
Thank you for reading my poem!💖
 Apr 14 Nishu Mathur
Shang
we didn’t need music
just the hum of the fridge
and the dog barking two floors down.
the sheets were half off the bed,
her hair in knots,
my hands shaking
like I’d lived a hundred lives
and never touched something so real.

Serena—
she looked at me like she already knew
where the cracks were
and kissed me there first.
no ceremony,
just heat and breath
and two ******-up hearts
trying to beat in time.

she moaned like it mattered,
like the world might stop spinning
if we didn’t keep going.
I bit her lip, she scratched my back,
we left bruises that felt like
truth.

afterward,
she lit a cigarette
with a hand still trembling
and said,
"we’re not broken,
just bruised in the right places."
and I believed her.
Intimacy is such a delicate and necessary thread that weaves true connection, trust, and vulnerability between hearts.

oh, today is my birthday!
 Apr 14 Nishu Mathur
Samuel
I'm not a poet
I'm just emotional
twenty-something emotions
those hit hard

I'm not a poet
only a sleepwalker,
my fingers burning to type
my laptop keyboard so well-lit
so I fall into the desire

I'm not a poet
I just whisper to a quiet altar called Hello Poetry
a fatal attraction
so I type
welcome to the cult
Where's my keyboard, I can't sleep
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