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Pizacas23 Apr 2020
"I want to tell you something " he said
"Okay" she replied.  "We know what we are - and we both know we're not."
Have you ever try falling inlove to someone but you know you can't be together?
Nylee Nov 2019
So this happened
And that too
The mind is alive
Not coming to
Conclusion
It is 3am
On my bed since 11
My eyes are wide open
Not sleeping at all.
Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.


(spermicide)


2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.


A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother's abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.


Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.


(embryonic)


5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.


Falling into my mother's hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.


On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent's end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.


I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.


His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse "never" sent.


The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.


For alms, we walked to granny frequent',
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.


The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.


But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.


A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.


I liked to observe others' comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.


Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant'
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.


(pubescent)


17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.


Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.


Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.


Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.


Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.


(twentified)


22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.


Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It's not yet ended.


Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and...
But people prevent
Every event.


I'd been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.


What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.


(at present)


27. Seen these verses, it's abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy - End.
My only birthday gift as usual, from me to myself.

03.02.2019.
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
I spotted a fortune teller at an old county fair
while knowing the answers I still looked for some there.
There was no love line or fate line she could’ve read,
I told her I bet there’s no sun line, life line or trace of a head.
She met my eyes with sadness written all over her face,
and told me out of all people that I was her worst case.
She traced the inside of my hand intently trying to see
then she asked me had I recently been burned severely.

In my death bed I’ve been waiting patiently for sleep
sadly I’m not the one it wishes to greet.
With past scars and present fresh wounds tunnelling down so deep,
loss of blood and mind so I’m left as just a sack of meat.

A loving caress to each feature
but succeed in only poking the bone,
and every single living creature
dies completely alone.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
they all choose to go but claim they wish to stay.

The beeping bouncing off the wall
steady like sirens or alarms,
and at the end of it all
we all die in our own arms.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
I still catch her glow but it’s fading away,
I know it could never last, but I still have to pray,
‘cause I am the past and she’s only in today.

I’ve acted strong and kept up this ruse,
atleast I can say I’ve always been brave,
but when I’m not digging up the past, ghosts or clues,
I’ve steadily been digging my own grave.

No lines, no ties, not a single strand.
I’ve got the palmist right in the palm of my hand.
Points to those who get the Donnie Darko and Sopranos references.
Poetic T Aug 2019
Death always wins,
                be it a subtle kiss
                        in to oblivion.


Or a slow caress into an inevitable
                                conclusion of demise.

But all will lay silently,
             we will breathe a last breath

upon the road of solitude as all
                     walk alone into deaths exhalation.

Then there is stillness and a static
                                           nothingness suffocating
  

us in to an unfamiliar future of breathless anxiety.
amme Jan 2019
He walks upright in the night but never evolves.
Drugs in his brain, never a pure thought.
Intruding other peoples business for inclusion.
Surrounded by resonating problems but never comes to a conclusion.
Stupid.
Only wants something if he can use it.
Only turns to god when he wants to be included.
Only looks up to people who does prostitution.
Addicted to the music.
Free will, freedom is whats hes abusing.
TBC
Nagual Jan 2019
I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle
Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber;
The *****, disturbing, demented disorder;
The distortions of the lights we bathe on,
Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems.

I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste
Of a late night's substandard drink,
In the midst of true lights and shadows
And the uncertainty they cast upon us,
Over the orderly and satisfactory--
The dead pleasures and securities that
Exist nowhere but in feeble projections.

I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt--
The dirt, the dizziness of true treading
Across the muddy shallows--,
Over the clattering of an overflowed,
Certain mind.

I favour doubt, earnest doubt,
Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt--
A smile in a pitch-black room,
A journey on a lukewarm air balloon,
A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--,
Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions.

I favour the endearing messiness of reality;
The chaos of light and dreams;
The mystery, so out of reach,
Of you and me and the space in-between;
The stained, torn, shattered, burnt,
Twisted texture we find ourselves upon,
Over the smooth, marble-white,
Sterile surface where false certainties
Slide, grinning, before they find themselves
On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground.

I favour the acknowledging look
Straight into the eye;
A ladder with one step;
A race with no competitors;
A contentment without resentment;
A bread on your table that's good enough,
That doesn't tease you and promise you more,
And more,
And more,
So that you forget what you should really care for,
What lies deep under your skin,
What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts--
You climb to the hilltop
Which finally allows you to have
A peek at the next one.

I favour uncertainty and risk,
And walking too close to the edge;
I favour barely enough,
And cutting it too close;
I favour throwing all excess over the board,
And lowering standards;
I favour the taste of imminent failure
And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint;
I favour meagre means
And big dreams, free of currencies;
For they all remind me what the world
Really looks like,
Who I really am,
And what the winter-night winds
Really feel like.

I favour the ways of nature, often erratic,
*****, ugly and convoluted,
Often dumbfounding,
Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious,
Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions,
For there is no such thing
As a straight line.
Shadow Dragon Oct 2018
Eyes wide as space
staring into another face.
Believe me when I say
I've never felt another way
of entertaining eternity.
For I have come to a conclusion
I no longer believe in free fun.
You buy it in small doses
chew it up and swallow.
Come on jump down
from you throne
and buy another gemstone.
Poetic T Sep 2018
Life is just a grain falling
          to an inevitable conclusion.

That is, every tide comes in and
                                       drowns it.
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