Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Time is a cool liquid that flows and resonates through my being
And as I sit here slaving away day by day on man made devices based on prehistoric theories, I feel the angels of death ripping my time out from underneath my feet.
I maybe young but I continue to fret about the bullets that ring in my head and the psychotics that numb my brain into pliable putty.
They try to mold me to fit the social standard and I continue to fight back with the will of a bull and the guilt of a sinner.
I can not continue to castrate my inner self even though it is that of the flames of hell which will never accept me.
I can not continue to wish for the pure white of the wings angels and the dazzling halos of the pure, neither, because I am stuck in my impending cycle of depression and gloom.
Miss Mary Jane only makes me loopy and ***** me up immensely while the nicotine never sedates the destructive curiosity.
I am a slave to my mind and to the pain that bleeds from the bruises and cuts.
I am a slave to the human heart which controls every reenactment of the mistakes my mother bled to hide me from
And for this I cry and plead the words
"I'm sorry!"
But this is never enough.
I will never be enough.
For I am a hopeless little teenage freak that will never learn.
And for this I am truly sorry.
I have not been on in awhile, and for this I am sorry.
©LogenMichel copyright 2015
Axiana Jan 2015
I am the illuminated one
The light at the end of this road
I am the inspired one
Holding tightly to truths that are whole
I am the strong river flow
Unleashing my power, and when the wind blows
I am the unstoppable one
The chaotic whirlwind bringing changes unknown
I am the loving one
Reminding those who fear to let it all go
I am the understanding one
Whispering secrets to those that are closed
That they are the only ones
Who can stop these old growths
From swallowing their hearts whole
I am the one
The messenger holding your wishes close
Defending our right to grow
I am a soul
A complete part of the whole
I am the ancient warrior of old
Reminding our foes
You are the awakening one
As their illusion comes to a close
My first poem of 2015!! Enjoy <3
Nena Twedell Jan 2015
Why
Why does everyone around me keep dying?
They say that your loved ones gone on to a better place
That they are no longer suffering
But as my heart continues to ache
I can't help but to wonder about those who
carressed their loved ones heart
or the ones who created this being out of pure love and joy
taking the time to teach them and love them with everything they had
as the sun sets on another day
with angels that have walked this earth
and angels that have brought light to this world
begin to fade
The lost of a child holds so much pain that it is compared to being stabbed in the heart
The loss of a friend is felt as if a boulder was dropped into a calm body of water
The ripple effect spreading further and further out
And you begin to wonder if they really saw how much they meant to this world
Would they still have died?
So many theories of where they all go after they go
No one really knows though
But they are certain that it is better than here with all of their loved ones
But my aching heart wonders
Why did you have to go so soon?
We'll meet again soon my sweet sweet Ashlee.
jennifer ann Jan 2015
dear cerrupted angel, you've been through far too much,
i see the barbed wire your tangled and mangled, in. you're so lost and out
of touch. you awkwardly stand with sad blue eyes and shaking hands, and no one understands how you feel, your so striken with fear, that parts of you dissapear, underneath your shield made of steele .
Sally A Bayan Jan 2015
This morning was cold and a foggy one.
It reminded me of a past colder morning,
When the holiday hustle and bustle had just ended.
I was here....at Windwood Park,
My arms squeezed across my chest.
While briskly I walked, a strong wind blew
And by me, a flock of black birds flew...

I passed along house gardens, with Christmas trees,
With angels and stars on their tops still lighted.
Further on was a row of evergreens,
Upright, unaffected by the cold December winds,
High above the Magnolias and Hollies.
Beside the orange-purplish Birds of Paradise
Stood two smaller, obliquely grown pine trees;
Leaning, but undaunted by the sway of the winds,
No angels, or stars to show....instead, I watched as
The Crows approached, and on the tree tops, they alighted...
And then came another group of three,
And then several more followed suit,
And settled
On the nearby trees,
Blurring the tree line...until
The treetops were darkly shaded....

High above, they perch...on the grass, they search,
On the streets, they cross, pick up food, doing
What birds of the same feathers do---to survive...
A group of beaked, footed, dark crescent creatures
On top of those trees, so green with life,
Against a sky pleasantly clear and blue...
The contrasts, the events I witnessed, lingered with the cold...
A small patch of darkness...emerging,
Widening, prevailing, gaining power,
Can eventually conquer a whole world.

The White Egrets, Herons, the Finch,
The Bluebirds, Junkos and the Parrots
Usually grace Windwood Park with their presence...
Only the Blue Jay was brave enough that cold morning,
While a large number of Crows scattered,
And bravely, skillfully scavenged,
Through the wet, verdant grass,
Through the tall cans of thrash...

This morning, the cold brought back these events...and
I thought of the violence and starvation existing in places worldwide,
The prevailing restlessness, the senseless killings...the children....
No more concern for human lives...and
I thought of Nigeria...
And Pakistan,
And Paris, France,
And those that happened before them,
And those that are about to happen...

Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


...we never know what we may witness when we step out of our
   comfort zones...
*Just a flash of a thought....I have nothing against these persistent birds.
  I watch the urban Crows everyday, as they fearlessly do their scavenging, with or without  people around. They even come to our doorway. They are not afraid...*
Prince of Spring Jan 2015
Cool white sheets. Blue
sunshine filtering through
my hand learning your skin.
Dreaming of angels.

Empty shadows on
quiet streets.
The city breathes in,
grass blades quiver.

A drumming echo.
The hasty steps of
belatedness.
I shift my hand.

The faucets, dripping.
The sunrise pulling
your skin into alps,
but you’re not cold.

A high-rise drips its
concrete breath.
The sky breaks.
Exhale and return.
I wanted to capture the feeling that the song gave me. It feels so simple and pure, but tinged with melancholy and some kind of hopeless hopefulness. It feels like walking an Autumn afternoon in a deserted city street.
Rochelle R Jan 2015
Angles

By The ** off their album Coexist

Light reflects from your shadow
It is more than I thought could exist
You move through the room
Like breathing was easy
If someone believed me

They would be
As in love with you as I am
They would be
As in love with you as I am
They would be
As in love with you as I am
They would be
In love, love, love

And everyday
I'm learning about you
The things that no one else sees
And the end comes too soon
Like dreaming of angels

And leaving without them
And leaving without them

Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love, love

And with words unspoken
A silent devotion
I know you know what I mean
And the end is unknown
But I think I'm ready
As long as you're with me

Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love with you as I am
Being
As in love, love, love
This song, this song sings the poem my heart can't express.
rey Jan 2015
this is a story about a war
angels looking for completeness, and
reapers in uniforms

we raised our flags
they raised their guns
we filled the sky with our cry
we heard gunfire gunfire gunfire

you can never
ever
feed the hungry with bullets

four angels went home

do demons really run,
when a good man goes to war?
this is about the Trisakti shootings in Jakarta, 1998. I wasn't even born yet but oh my god, the horror...
Shae Jean Jan 2015
SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.

We just want to be heroes,
Trying to drown out our demons with our headphones.
Nothing we want to gain,
Don't want fame, just want these words to be proclaimed.
We break our bones to save our friends,
We're full of broken promises and good intents.

We're the guardians of dreams,
But we find it hard to continue to breathe,
We're hiding behind scars,
Our purpose is carved in the cracks in our hearts.
We're trying to conceal our fears,
Paint ourselves in black and white, let it smear.

SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.

We are the social rejects,
Trying to mask our pain in the words we express.
Nothing else we want,
Don't want to be noticed, just want to share these thoughts.
We mend the hopes of our comrades,
Push them two steps forward to fall five steps back.

We're the protectors of courage,
But we're overlooked by the most observant.
We're not invisible,
But you can't see that we're individual.
We're just trying to continue,
But we're fighting the battles that you never knew.

SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.
this is a song I wrote
Next page