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Bitter, bicker, bluster, boast,
Finger pointing past the host;
Sideways glances, rolling eyes,
Spiteful comments meant to ire,
The sticking point, the under belly.
Poke it, stoke it, it will flame,
In the chest and rising red.
Use shame, disdain and the old refrain:
*You're not listening,
You keep blaming,
If you'd stop talking,
You'd start hearing.
"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.
When you call a suicide prevention hotline, they will often ask you to describe to them 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste to help ease anxiety. I hope this poem helps someone struggling to look forward, because believe me, it does get better.
 Jul 2017 Sean Murray
Lakshmi
Life
 Jul 2017 Sean Murray
Lakshmi
A connection, a spark,
light in the dark;
lust into love,
as pure as the angels above;
both so young, both so dumb,
just the two of them was their sum;
they felt the world move as they moved,
everything intertwined in just their groove;
so madly in love, as if the world was only filled with those two,
both went hand in hand together, like a toolbox and the screws;
but then, both did things they said they wouldn't do,
and soon they realised it was no longer them two;
they realised in fact 'the world does not revolve around us',
and they were just two teenagers who were once in ocean deep love;
and as the days had passed, they had spoken less and less,
both did things to ease away the stress;
and now, they would hardly speak at all,
ironic for two who once stood so tall;
and all they have now are memories so fond,
of the love they had for each other, once so strong;
and now in their hearts, the memories remain deep,
for every once in a while, there would be a tear or a weep;
funny how life pans out,
yet time keeps moving forward, without a doubt...
 Jul 2017 Sean Murray
David Cunha
A poem a day
A poem away
From driving my tears away.

A poem someday
A poem a way
To make up colors from grey.

A poem sometimes
A poem that rhymes
The look of a man counting his dimes,

                 That look from me
                 That look of him
                 Figuring out what's grimm

A poem in time
A poem at night
An ode to freedom out of fright.

A poem to scorch
A poem to heal
To change the world or know what's real.

Although, what's your deal?
july 9, 2017
6:10 a.m.
You were so young when you died.
I didn't see it coming.
You would just sit there resting,
quietly humming.

I remember the good times;
the movies we'd watch,
the television shows,
my secrets that you kept
from being exposed.

But now that you're gone you've left me in fits.
Now resting in pieces,
because I smashed you to bits.

R.I.P External HDD (2010-2016)
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