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An irreverent force
armed in localised wars
Flames of rage displayed in waves
Some strings attached
to bring about more force
Shattered glass and burnt bricks
won't fix what a voice is worth
But irrelevance when oppressed
blinded with contempt seeks to vent
So many mistakes are blamed to
create what is made of the states
Powers that be have a responsibility
to assist those in need without them bending the knee
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
a letter to each of my wraiths,
spirits of insidious intent.
to those who could not stomach
my tempestuous volatility,
the ones who grinned
and ran upon learning
I am a storm with skin.

the phantasms, loathsome and odious.
to the scorch marks you left upon
the deepest caverns of my soul.
melodious, vile, cloying, abysmal.

I drank every honeyed word like a promise:
yet it was naught but fermented love.
these are the odes for the ghosts
of my past mistakes.

I'll paint you all in a ravenously
meticulous light. you will have
your fifteen minutes in the sun,
before I set you all ablaze.



i.

you need no title, you deserve no name.
if you ever read this, harbor no doubts
that this is your trial.

you make me wish for an exorcism.
after all these years, your demon still sleeps within the marrow of my bones.

you are nothing more than a disease.

by some act of paradoxical cruelty,
I am unable to hate you. you deserve
it, but it is out of my capabilities.

you were poison.
you whispered sweet promises
that you didn't,
couldn't understand.
you tasted like pomegranates
and original sin.
you held me up when I
couldn't breathe, believe
in anything, or even stand.

thrice you sent me back
to the abyss.
in the end, we ascended
the throne as rightful heirs.

did you know what
you were doing?
did it even matter?
did you happen to care?

I'd like nothing more than to burn
every inch of you from my memory.

I dream of you on your birthday.
on days and dates of significance
that you have long forgotten.

you are a parasite. you were my muse.
I cannot help but wonder if you
understand what you truly are.
you have done that which is
unforgivable: I hope it corrupts you.
hate yourself for me, as I am unable to.

pray to whatever gods you hold
that you never cross my path.
I will annihilate you with a single glance.
encase you in ice so you may rule
the underworld alone.
I am your captive no longer.

I see you fully, in inscrutable detail.
I want to be the one holding the mirror,
all too happy to show you exactly
what you have always been. let it destroy
you: yet even that is too kind a fate.

your abhorrence festers within yourself,
your diseased and poisoned soul
eating away at the facade you built.
I'm tearing it down and exposing
your darkest fears and sins.



ii.

you are a brazen ballad of
burning bravado.

I'm done purging and
dissecting my soul for you.

you are not an enigma.
you are no daughter of the sun.
you are transparent.
you paint yourself in ashes;
desperate for resplendence.
I cannot stop you, darling.
just remember: I am the one
who taught you how to shine.

yes, it is true: I burnt you
with hands of unintentional
volatility. since my
transgressions; I have fasted,
wept, and atoned my sins.
yet desipte agreements,
promises of your forgiveness;
I have all but brought you
my head upon a platter.

I weigh my words upon a scale.
I do not wish to harm you again.
I am Atlas, pirouetting across
an endless sea of ice.
I dare not shatter you
with thoughtless words.
yet you have become a
threat to my own health.

I want nothing more than to repair
the frayed edges, yet I cannot
sew the tatters of fifteen years
with a single spool of thread.
restoration is not a one way street.

two weeks ago I bore my soul:
the fragility, voracity, my
undiltuted truth.
I forgave myself for what
I did in days past, at your behest.

it is, and shall never be enough.
no. not for the opulence
of a goddess. yet you are not
made of fire. you are ice.

opaque.

you have been nothing more
than a mirage. at least the truly
deceased only visit twice a year.
they don't leave unhinged promises.

“we could rebuild, recreate,”
and other half truths
you weave and sell.

you know just as well as I do, honey:
words are wind.
they do not bring warmth;
foster naught but sweet sighs
that shall never come to light.

your translucency is a beacon,
and you are the only one
unaware of how easy it is
to see through you.

I am truly sorry.
I am finished ripping open
the lining of my bones
to the lamenting cries
of unanswered echoes.

if ever your luster returns,
bringing substantial proof of
warmth, commitment; your needles
and thread: perhaps we can
recreate our tapestry.

until then, the silk shall remain
as it is: ravelled, fading,
matching your soul in every
transparent, powdery aspect.
October 23rd, 2018.

read this not with malice or cruelty, but instead as a torch song.
i am purging all of the darkness and decay in a blazon of ephemeral light. From the ashes I rise anew, knowing that no inch of my soul has been tainted by you.

kalica delphine ©
Ptax Kuro Jan 14
The city of Korosten burned out,
burned from head to bottom.
Spoiled wild birds flew away
scared. No more deer left,
only people died.
All the houses were cindered.
There’s no stone left to turn
and break your ******* face.
Sean Thienpont Nov 2019
He stole my sight
Away through cleaves
Her freckled hair lost among leaves
A wit, a fancy unbecoming of us
No sword or arrow could ever become thus
No just
This man trampled what belonged to us
His heart,
A link
To the Past
Contempt for videogames?
Misplaced feelings for the heroine?
Ganon?

Who knows??
11/24/14

Hate, anger,
Contempt and loathing.
They're all building up,
I feel like exploding.

I have no release.
I have no relief.
The water is rising,
The tide is coming in.

Losing space,
Losing ground,
Losing face,
All around.

I can't explain.
I can't deny.
I can't confirm.

Copyright From A Poet's Heart
I stayed angry and hateful during the majority of my marriage to my ex husband. This is just another example. The poems i have posted so far are my earliest writings.
TheWitheredSoul Jun 2019
She: Boooo ,I'll infect you too.

He :you already did and I already died but I am happy enough to do it all again, over and over ,again and again,forever and ever,until your heart soaring just about mine.
My love might not be a two way street but sure as hell i knew she was the one the moment i realized what all of my heart ever craves was just to see her wiggling somewhere happily on the surface of this rock ^_^
She is the one that i would never forget
She is the one who i would  always be longing for
She is the one who slipped right through my hands
She is my one and only
George Krokos Jun 2019
I fell in love and lost my heart
and that was why it tore apart.
The love given wasn't returned
by the one for whom it had yearned.

It all seemed so sad at the time
I often thought it was a crime.
But then I could be so naive
early in life's path to believe.

Nature's hand had dealt me a blow
and recovery was very slow.
Everyone I asked was futile
in answering to make me smile.

I sought for love in wrong places
and all I got was strange faces;
looking back at me with contempt
'cause in their heart love was exempt.

Rejection is a dreadful thing
and everyone has felt its sting.
A love you may feel for someone
is best experienced as fun.

Never force love on another
even if they're a real brother
You'll just draw them further away
and who knows what else is at play.
_____
Written early in 2019
Alek Mielnikow Apr 2019
She adorns her face with platinum
piercings, and her azure hair peeks
out of her indigo hoodie. Her
ragged, cinereous jeans reveal
scabbed and bruised knees, and
they’re tucked into jet black
biker boots strapped to her feet.

Without hesitation, she crosses the street.

Tires screech and car horns beep and drivers
scream obscenities that ornament the air
with scorn. Yet like a red belonging in folklore,
she slights their violent contempt.

She tipples from the burn of
self-destruction, and savors the
flavor of rebellion, a savor so
sweet it overwhelms her senses
and compels her to behave reckless.

And as I pass, I throw up my best fist
of anarchy. I wish I was free like this.

Though it takes a tinge of toughness
to stare into the nihilistic abyss,
it takes courage to have fun in it.


-
Aleksander Mielnikow
True story!


red [noun] - one who advocates the violent overthrow of an existing social or political order

tipples [verb] - to drink liquor especially by habit or to excess, OR, to drink (liquor) especially continuously in small amounts

burn [noun] - a channel of water that can vary in size from a stream to a river


azure - #007fff
indigo - #4b0082
cinereous - #98817b


If you liked this, check out "Dancing Alone" and "Tonight's The Night"
Jamie Greenway Mar 2019
Oh to be self absorbed.
Floating through life thinking you’re the only one worth giving a **** about.
I’d feel sorry for you if you hadn’t suggest it yourself.
Control your illusions of grandeur and I’ll control my contemptuous ramblings.
You’re so vain.
You probably think this poem’s about you.
Sorry for the slightly aggressive tone, just needed to get some feelings off my chest about some of the people in my school. It’s been playing on my mind recently and what better way to release those feelings than through some good old fashioned poetry XD
Rochelle Foles Mar 2019
sitting
                     in the quagmire of her self contempt
                     a flame ignites beneath
                     the blackened caldron


like
                      a frog
                      set to cook in a *** of tepid water

she
                      was clueless
                      she was being devoured
                      from the inside out
the things we do to ourselves...
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