Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kenna Marie Mar 2016
I keep writing down the year as if it means anything to me dear
I don't feel connected,
just another spirit lost.
Gone is that turned leaf.
And his mother still faces him in his wildest nightmares and keeps him home,
and his mother cries tears and whiskeys down her pain. She can't do this on her own,
but she's holding on; for the sake of them both.

It makes him happy to know that he was actually a part of the family before he left
and I can't speak for him, but I sure know when someone loses their mind again,
better keep it on the downlow, because nobody wants to go to detoxification home, no.

So, I won't report
and he sings with me, and he lives with me and he loves me indeed. He just can't see about me,  can not even breathe...
and you can't even see that
Our ideas linger together, and it makes us both in company just like it should be.
Kenna Marie Feb 2016
Exasperation is the new season, flaunting it around instead of holding it inside.
Yes, these bags under my eyes are designer.

Help arrives in the nick of time, losing your unfiltered mind.
Bricks thrown, all sorts of sizes, too. Collecting and building, haunting your shrine. Hovering above is my denial. It reminds me why what I experience is such a trial.
Such a set back, run another lap. Farther and farther away…
Introduce me to the style.
Expired ideas are lightly sketched.
I gave up my sight of fashion when pressure popped out my eyes.
"Thank you
for granting me
this opportunity
to face these aspects
of myself
i'd much rather
sweep under the carpet."
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
@--\-----

She stood in mama's kitchen
at the table by the door.
Blue plastic roses
their vase broken on the floor.
He said he was leavin'
bought a bottle at the store...
Now daddy's gone
won't be commin' back no more.

(chorus)
Blue plastic roses
put together with some glue
Blue plastic roses
my oh my, how time done flew
Blue plastic roses
no longer bright, no longer new
Blue plastic rose
She's still waiting where they grew


She sits at the table
places set with cheap champagne.
He's not coming over
and she's alone again
Blue plastic roses
their petals cracked and stained
Placed on the TV
the memory remains.

(chorus)

The undertaker paid.
The gravedigger gone.
She left this rotten world
She wasn't all that strong.
Can we reverse the clock?
It just ticks on and on
The damage was too great
no way to right the wrong

Blue plastic roses
set down before her stone
Blue plastic roses
haphazard set upon the loam
Blue plastic roses
hear the wind in the pines groan
Blue plastic rose
now she's really all alone

Now shes really all alone.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/21/2015
Bluesy country song.

I must go off site a while
I'll read more when I get back

@--\-----
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
10W

plants
in
the
driest
soil
always
have
the
D
E
E
P
E
S
T

R

O
T
S


SoulSurvivor
(repost)
that's why a palm tree can
be blown flat in a hurricane
And then stand up straight after
the storm's past

it has one of the deepest taproots
of any tree

-///\\\-
Simon Obirek Sep 2015
My mind is playing tricks
flipping into reverse,
all is static,
I'm frantically sadistic.

I'm on the grind,
****'s grinding my gears,
you say my name like it's sounds I made up
even in our sheets we're ****** up.

The rat race isn't a race,
but a triathlon
we aren't athletes,
we're just dragging our feet along,
no ping to life's pong,
this is a poem
'cause I can't write songs.
Lane Bohman Sep 2015
Running through the acres

Chasing dreams

Searching for the ransom
of this long
lost me
Id die to find.

Took myself for granted
and now
here I stand.
Sold my soul for "sustenance",
The kind I never had.

My brother told me
"Boy, how did you get so tall?
I've seen those devils licking
at your heels,

I'm surprised you walk it off.

(B-but I'm trying,) I try!
Working oh so hard
But I never make excuses
For the things I've done.
Never ran away, I never run.

Why should I
have to cover my face?

Sins that my father bore
don't ride my back

or haunt this place.

I long for the solace
of the evergreen.

Reminisce
of innocence lost.
Where law don't live
and "wild" means "free".

I are who I am
cause all the places I've been.
I are who I am,
*I wouldn't give it *
for the world.
A Writer Aug 2015
The wringer is no place for a damaged shirt to be.
It may be torn or ripped in its most fragile state.
It may not come back to you the same as it did when it entered, losing a part of what it was.
But you have no choice,
because it's the only shirt you have
and you need it today.
You need it everyday.
But every time you put your shirt through the wringer, you're risking the loss.
Be patient.
Be gentle.
your old shirt.
It's all you have.
If you loose it then what?
Set it out to dry and
let it be.
Be patient and gentel with yourself, you're all you have.
Joshua Adam Jul 2015
My Principles Are Not For Sale!

This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).

Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice

There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong**
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws

Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?

Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution

In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
This short poem is dedicated to all of you "Survivors", with love!
Joshua Adam Jul 2015
My Principles Are Not For Sale!

This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).


Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice

There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws

Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?

Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution

In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
This short poem is dedicated to all of you "Survivors", with love!
Next page