I've always had a way with words
my tongue lets lies slide off
like ice cream drips onto the floor
I notice it more
when I talk to my mother
her ignorance astounds me
like magic to a child
pick and mix, assorted all sorted
wrinkles missing, smooth as glaciers
toils reversing on harbingers like excesses does
walking the trodden alleys learning Sods mathematics
organs pains for non-organics are inherent consequences so
one Republic and the anthropologists utters a myth in passing
all bananas look like all bananas because bananas are bananas alike
sing a song of three pence and a pocket full of fear
Plato's cave a grand auditorium for lames
united disunited ages in anti-virus glares
white noise in white air and masses sigh
the emperor's coat plays invisible chess
ladies think long and hard in minds
for a dolphin swims like none-other
the glides of the sweetest depths
and in those places unseen
expanded vibes of feels
know reasons why so
it's the bigger snap
it's the difference
This piece is inspired by the Brexit situation where the masses are in disarray, confused, pent-up, belligerent and feed up yet cannot stop being obsessive and charmed by it. Monsieur Barnier is determined, Angela Markel has dreams of taking it big and sea of free dolphins swimming. We all dream on and the equally obsessed Press write dirges, doom laden nonsense and masturbatory expose on distorted views and wishful thinking. Hapless Mrs May goes grey daily and watches helplessly as wrinkles arrives daily on faces that cannot let go and just doing the same thing and saying the same-thing over and over and over again and by the way, what is the Black Rod doing about all this (for does familiar with British politics ) I definitely think
the Black Rod will calm things down, yes, that's it !!
Shop online now
all of these
to distract you
from the sad view
of other who
that barely fit you
but look cool
for your favorite
so you can’t
when we yell
The internet sale
is better because
you don’t even
have to leave your house,
you don’t have to
go to a store
and see anyone
The words don't flow today
From the nib of my pen,
But I still try to write;
Desperate to get the bittersweet feelings out of my body.
They've been there too long,
Endangering my sanity,
Endangering my life,
So I let them loose,
For I can't hold them back...
This is why I write, even when I don't have any ideas, even when I have a block.
I run and I run away from those feelings.
I drug up my lungs, I pray for soul healing.
But I'ma mute, it's truth with shady dealings
I recuse and lose, it is my daily beatings.
It's got a grip on my throat, my heart in a vise
And I trip over my goals with hardened advice.
A charcoal ladened vice and a pardoned crime.
It Leaves me crippled, like im charting high tides.
If you need me to spell it out you won't understand.
You see me in ****, a self inflicted somber glance.
An argument with one helluva colder trance.
A trance that has me blundering over chance.
You can try to help me but you will fall short.
Cause this monster is huge, with a long cord
Wrapping it around my neck, tears drawn.
Drowning, all around while these fears spawn.
Generalized anxiety with obsessive compulsion and silent depression.
you are the fundamental sin,
a new ******'s oasis.
the night has come,
no one is hard to please.
feeding off of your emotions,
the portal to your gentle vulnerability
which i lack-
i want your bones, your flesh;
i want your pale skin, your soul;
riddled with my purple euphoric prose.
i look out
for your words to expose
and expose more and more
of your cracked skin.
you need love, red skin
and wet lips without blood
and i need another
warmth i cannot
show me what i am obsessed with.
i want to over-indulge again.
Jindagi chalti hi samjhoto se hai,chale bi kyo na jindagi ko aasaan jo bana dete hai
Ha thoda dard bi de dete hai kabhi kabhi
Par dard ke badle ek maksad de dete hai
Maksad jeene ka, par jeena chaye kaise bi **
Chaye has kar, chaye ro kar, chaye bor hokar
Par ha thode ajeeb to hote hai yeh
Kyuki kisi ko khusi de dete hai or kisi ko gum
Par Kabhi kabhi kush aisa kar dete hai
Ki aisi umeed bi ni hoti inse
Aur Anchaye anjaam ko aane se rok bi dete hai yeh
Par jo bi kahe jindagi me inki ek apni jagah hai
Tabhi to yeh har jagah hai..........
The tired lock gives
An old incomprehension
It is a fever
turns him on
the brute air spanning
nights of stealth:
the steel pick's
the delicate return
the loud alarms
The night lights
fester on his face.
You find him
where the cold streets meet
deliriously clutching at
the shiny packet of his sexuality.
It is a time for cryig
but this *******
has a flavour few will try.
Each undressed woman
draws him on:
a simple thief
who will not buy.
and your eyes,
have had much more
interesting things to say;
that has escaped your lips.
People tend to speak most clearly with their eyes. The best liars hold steady, beautiful eye contact; absorbing your trust through a piercing gaze. They won't ever return it. Only time will.
Sometimes everything in real life can be going really great
but in your mind for some reason on a night when you're alone everything seems to be crumbling.
On a friday night like tonight.
When i went home and thought about the bonfire I was invited to
thought about friends
thought about how I had no idea what my relationship life was right now
thought about how it was so frustrating that I couldn't find my glue gun for weeks
binge watched tv
put away clothes
found some pictures of myself, pictures of an insecure youth who hated her body more than anything in the world. a girl who cried. a girl who was disappointed that she didn't look like barbie now that she had become a teenager. a girl who wore a lot of makeup to look pretty and cover all her acne. it didn't cover the acne just gave her a little barrier from the world. A girl who wore push up bras and straightened her hair every day and sometimes wore a bow in it. she hoped that boys would notice her or like her. A girl who was upset when they didn't. A girl who had no idea she liked other girls.
put on some lipstick, smeared on black eyeliner, patted on blue to my eyelids, put my hair in a cheerleader bow
tore apart two closets trying to find my ******* hot glue gun
thought about how i felt dehydrated
thought about the mess i made from looking for the hot glue gun
considered cleaning it up
considered texting someone
This poem details the crumbling and out of control feelings which can arise from one simple thing going wrong. This is written in my stream of consciousness and shows the obsession and fixation on the glue gun.
Thank you. x