Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
jenna Jun 2018
i am the “beware of dog” sign
and you are the dog
you are behind me
on a chain
loud and angry
i am there
so the next person that crosses your path
cannot be upset
as there is a sign
that warns
to beware of your tendencies
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
All the dead soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines.
Why can’t we see what all of them have seen?
Why didn’t we notice that nobody had attacked us?
We urged them to invade and **** as if it was practice.
You know, war games that turned out a bit too real?
How come those giving orders don’t seem to feel?
Why do they keep overtaking countries overseas
That did nothing more to us than perhaps displease?

They angered us by having some resources we wanted.
This should remind of how the ancient countries hunted
And robbed, ***** and murdered in their neighbor’s lands.
Why that was acceptable then, nobody really understands.
Yet today, when we are supposed to be so **** intelligent
We are just as bloodthirsty, but dressed a bit more elegant.
We repeat the cycle, generation after mindless generation
And then dare to call ourselves a democratic nation.

How is that possible? Nobody ever came and asked me
It it was fine to send thousands of troops overseas.
Nobody asked me if it was a good thing to **** and maim
Then used poisoned media to make the victims take the blame.
Instead leaders and clerics stood in their pulpits and brayed
That if we didn’t follow their lead, it meant we were afraid,
Or, worse yet, we were the traitors and were all liable
If we didn’t do what they read from old parts of the bible.

It becomes “an eye for an eye”, even when we aren’t hurt.
We come up with stupid axioms to treat others like dirt.
We send our sons and daughters, to invade and be killed
Because some rich ******* demand it on Capitol Hill.
It will be this way forever more if we don’t make it stop.
We, the average voter, must become the traffic cop.
We must elect only leaders without blood in their eye.
If we don’t this big "Godly nation" is nothing but a lie.
Debbie Brindley Apr 2018
Memories intact

amongst
the  chaos  in   your   head
     
                                           

Your words sit silent in a mouth which no longer speaks

Frustration and anger

show

behind coNfuSEd eyes  

Features at times expressionless
A canvas blank
Void of colours

Take my hand
I shall guide you
Watch out for you
Protect you
Be your voice
So you are heard
Understood
Cared for
Loved
My husbands illness
Brianna Duffin Mar 2018
I don’t care if you think you can save me
I don’t care if you think you have the right to change me
I don’t care if you think I’m scary or crazy or whatever
I don’t care if you think I’m someone for you to change, to control
You don’t get to come for me
Don’t try to come for me
Don’t even think about coming for me
Don’t you come for me ever.

I don’t care if your circuits are blown by being in my presence
I don’t care if your friends are coming for you over what I am
I don’t care if your hormones are raging out of control
I don’t care if your systems are screaming in a desperate need to lash out
You don’t get to come for me
Don’t try to come for me
Don’t even think about coming for me
Don’t you come for me ever.

Do you understand now that not everything is about you
Do you understand now that you don’t get to run me
Do you understand now that I’m no toy for you to play around with
Do you understand now that causing strife by minding my business helps no one
You don’t get to come for me
Don’t try to come for me
Don’t even think about coming for me
Don’t you come for me ever.
Surbhi Dadhich Dec 2017
A thorn dressed like a rose
Hate dressed like devoted love
Grave grin in a well- wished pose
Rigging in the name of trust
Stepping miles away from promises
Into ghostly nightmares
Opting deadly choice among ill nominees
Still ill- fated fake cheers
Frozen in the roughness of wounds and pain
Melting with the warmth of aggression
Who committed those highlighted mistakes
I'm the victim of my fate
This is the clear conclusion..
Based on some worst childhood memories...
I don't know why I wrote it cause I had forgotten them..but to be precise they are in my heart forever...
Dolly Balou Dec 2017
What is fair?
It is a simple question.
I never really knew what was fair and what wasn't.

Do what you are told.

As a child one continues on, no matter the circumstances.
Do they question the fairness of what they're exposed?

No.

It is only upon reflection that one feels the indignation that they endured.
More often than not, the suffering at the hands of another.

Is this fair?

Pent up anger, so suppressed it causes physical disease.
Passive annoyance, felt, but never spoken.

What is one to do when this is their reality?

How can one unleash the pain of indignation?

Who determines what is fair and unjust?

These are questions which are difficult to answer, therefore, remain rhetorical.

For sometimes an answer in the spoken form, is never enough.
Nor is an apology.
Nathan Porter Oct 2017
I typed at the speed of my sprinting mind
Trying to explain what lives in my head
But after a while, come morning time
I have slight hope that he is dead.

But every evening
Brings to me more suffering
As I realize nothing can ****
The demon that calls itself part of me.

When my mind is groggy
He wakes and speaks for me
Treating all my friends shoddily
And ruining what love remains for me

The man that speaks from inside
Is like a cancer growing within
As constantly he will deride
My attempts to change away from sin

I have no name for this monster
And I cannot claim that he is an excuse
But I know I'm not this awful other
And a decent explanation is impossible to produce.

An explanation
Remember when?
An explanation
Drove me to no end?

Insanity caused by the simplest of statements.
That's not me.
And yet this monster can escape any containments
And he is always angry.

It's my turn to give an explanation
A truth that brings small satisfaction
But you of all deserve to know
This monster coming when it rains on my brow

I cannot call him my delusion
For surely he is no illusion
I cannot call him my depression
For surely that was fixed with confession.

WHO ARE YOU?
why do you live within me so?
Tearing into me, making me blue
I just wanted to watch the **** show.

Are you done now?
Can you please
Leave ME ALONE NOW
let me have peace

Breaking my heart and the hearts of my friends
I send you away as fast as I can
I'm leaving now
I"m taking a stand
And so I exit
Stage up to heaven
And you can leave
Stage straight down to hell.
I've decided to write about something we all struggle with, temptation and aggression, I hope you enjoy.
Nothing says I love you like swollen lips and saliva dripping down my chin. Do you like me when I'm messy and wild with my hair remembering your fingers? Pornstars smile when they ****, but I beg instead. I arch for you so beautifully. When my cheek is pressed to the sheets and you take a handful of my hair and force me to curve - that's dedication. I entertain for you. Wear pretty lace for you. I get on top on bottom on my side on my knees for you. I want abuse from you. Leave rope burns on my wrist. Leave welts on my ***. I want you to rip my hair from my head. Why don't you spread me out for you? Why don't you push my boundaries? I'm ******* but you don't mean it. I don't want comfort. I want aching shoulders and rope tracks. I want handprints on the inside of my thighs. I want to* hurt. *Last night I was begging you to break me. I wanted to feel you today. I wanted there to be holes in the walls and blood in my mouth. I wanted all the hate I've been carrying to come out of my mouth while I screamed your name. But you don't hate me. And I don't "make love." Because Lord knows I can't love you without my clothes on.
Martin Narrod Aug 2017
Anything All of the Everything

Events of Summer quickly ensue, it takes hold of you quickly, while the police drive thru. You cannot find it half-way into the night, you could hold up on a park bench or lay your blanket on the slough. Perhaps when your dreams kick, your asterisks will come, build a map of your defense and then head for the sun. Some foe outwit the wounds of life, furry blister-like faces, when they take up the star dust diamonds, the trail guides take after hurrying up paces.

The festivities of fear are living oaths inside of marbled starve rocks, they harvest shoots and ladders, and keep tabs on wild beasts and livestock. There's no match throughout the campgrounds. There's no matchbook light to find us. If you're quick enough with your 70s, then perhaps you'll follow the nightness that's arrived us.

In aide of her lift-gate, shredding pensive miens and speeding mimes, taking ward of one thousand fathomed depths, assumes courageous anti-hate isms. She can come quickly with a syzygy, her van packed with fresh woes of Sunday, then around Monday humbly hides her stuff in the small hems of her bed linens. You can't outwit the governess who preys on handicapped children's thrift finds. She makes clothes and keeps her hands to bed. She bares new graves for time's new roman epithets and moving pictures. She  unplugs her bleeding tongues under some new sone for her monarchic archetypical audiophile party.

While the umberphiles sleep, nyctophiliacs stalk grizzlies. Mosquitos quaff at human blood, while their offspring keep drinking. The idle bugs throes, misanthropic and useless, teach electric lusters' mouths to grow into fiery hoops with which to slip past all the clueless.  The arachnids might dance, the haunting verbs they might fray. The Egyptians at first glance, try to hide their heroine pyramids away.

So hush little violet dormant flowers, fake your fertility and keep your skeptic drink. Keep each one you might meet, within one hundred feet of where you sleep. Keep your arms length's supine, your supplies out of reach, practice wrapping yourself up inside boxes where the souls can sleep.

If you only once catch a fool, avoid the plague-speak certain lips might tell. Each uttered word commanded with too much ******* across the bandwidth. Mortal courses can't be taught, human voices can't keep the draught, ferocious abstract engineered humanity has escaped this truant absence and immorality. You, you catch a fool, she could preach hurts and djinns, it could dot the I's of when, and unfurl the sighs of men. Berthed earthlings that the **** ascribes, hurts the worthless and sours true purpose widths of curfews and its curses, all these biomes perfervidly reserve the fury for their furtive perversity, elements to obscure the telemetry that has coddled such a dark conflagration of immensity, it's the cluelessness of these transgressors that forces the abhorrence towards all-white-everything professors.
While sitting in Grand Teton National Park at the entrance to Spalding Bay.
K Balachandran Aug 2017
A cat's aggressive call,
sound of feathery wings
beating on the ground,
noise of wriggling..silence!

few grey plumes and red beak
strewn around, bear witness
to nature's own methods
conflict, resolution, surrender.
Next page