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Julian Delia Dec 2017
A bleak, black, endless expanse
A shifting mass of sand and tar.
It sits there, always there,
never far.

It is inside all of us; it swallows everything
like a black hole devours even light.
A well that can never be filled
A hunger that leads to our plight.

We see it everyday, governing our world
from the shadows - watching and waiting.
It stalks us like a lion stalks a deer,
ready to pounce as soon as we give way.

We give way when our hearts let in the darkness,
the refusal to believe in other human beings as kind and real people.
It is like a grave we have dug
for ourselves, a grave made
out of forgotten but unforgiven heartbreaks and amply overused ashtrays.

It is that armour which we wear to
ward off emotions, that misusage of
our soul akin to mending a bullet wound
with a bandaid.

It is the hunger felt by the stress-eater,
It is the feeling of disgust felt by the bulimic.
It is the beatings from parents or siblings,
It is the rationalisations and the excuses by the victims.
It is the space which is left
After a part of us dies along with someone else.
It is the trauma, the fear - the void
IS, and always will be, here.

And it's terrifying.
Sunday hangover poetry.
Vulpes Nov 2017
We are nothing but an empty shell,
Filling our voids with warm things to feel alive,
A composition of ravished corpses of once
Living beings that will warm our dead inside.

We are nothing but animals,
Playing human every day, faking empathy and emotion,
Playing God every day, ravaging and killing our host,
Beautiful lands left with nothing but corruption.

We are nothing but greed,
A broken people cutting their skin with green paper,
Pretending this is what true happiness means,
Killing each other for the bliss of coins.

Desperately fighting my rotten ego,
I pour blood into this empty vessel, the cage of my soul,
The core of a virus pretending to live righteously,
Yet I know that this version of me is indifferent.
A parasite.
Helen Raymond Oct 2017
Respect is earned and not given
Don't expect an attendance ribbon
No petty compliments, no kind lies
Only truth seen through different eyes

We may be harsh, we don't mince words
We value truth even when it hurts
To plant roses we must break the earth
Challenges let us prove our worth
Fritzi Melendez Oct 2017
You act as if you aren't the root of the statements you deliberately claim.
As if telling me my character is flawed and I am everything to blame.

As if stating that I can not form a sentence without shaking and stuttering is bound to take over my life, crash, and fail.
As if hypocritically saying that I'll end up pregnant with an abusive boyfriend flipping burgers to make ends meet is how my life will sail.

Granted that I'm not even able to make anyone stay with me.
A torment of words in the prison of my home, I feel I'll never be free.  

Let me tell you something, ******.
I was doing much better until you came into my life, stole my mother's heart and ****** her.

Grabbed my hair in the intention to afflict pain and make me cry
Threw us in a cardboard box and you demanded we don't question why.

Moved us into a house for the reason being you wanted to be closer to your workplace.
No consideration of us, you just expected us to put a smile on our face.

Stole the only memories, childhood, and friends I have ever made.
Left in this empty home with my sad thoughts and the pill cabinet to raid.

Only my razor blades and the silence and my head spinning in a whirl.
You talk so high and mighty for a 40 something year old always picking on a melancholic teenage girl.

Like your ***** of a mother, like a ***** of a son.
You can't even handle the consequences when your deed has been done.

You do what your mother does, and take what I hate and use it to hurt me.
It is me that I hate, and you know how much it stings more than a bee.

Brainwashed my mother to be a replica of you.
It's so sad when I see my own mom break my heart in two.

Always said that she'll protect us first.
Until you came along and made that ideation of hers burst.

The inequality of your ethics is completely noticeable.
I'm not a ******* animal, I'm a person you caged in a bubble.

You wonder why I'm the way I am: so emotional, so sad, so problematic.
Even though I'm far from the stereotypical high school teenager statistics.

As much as you've claimed you have done so much good for this family,
You've also broken me too many times for me to count, the irreversible cracks in my brain and heart's anatomy.

You need to stop attacking my very presence.
As much as I hate myself, I'm also my own essence.

Let me get better without tearing me down.
Grow the **** up and stop making yourself look like an immature clown.

I know you'll never see this or even try to listen.
Just know everything comes back around, but until then,

I hope you realize your words are damaging to my very soul.
I hope you fix your **** and bury your insensitivity 6 feet down a hole.
Wanted to vent out about the **** my mom's boyfriend does. I'm just tired of being hurt by the very people that are supposed to take care of me.
NeroameeAlucard Oct 2017
Why is hypocrisy
So easy for someone else to see
But if its your outdated and antiquated
Ideals being presented in a way that
Is blunt and an affront to every stride we
Made forward as a society

Why did people think the orange menace was a good idea? Please indulge my curiosity
Aside from e-mails proven to be inconsequential
And the fact that a black men held the highest office in our nation and somehow that made the bitter members of the **** even more miserable

Why did you honestly think
That someone with no political experience would be
Qualified to hold office? Honestly...
BSeuss Oct 2017
I grade myself too much,
although I am the teacher,
write a poem, tear it up,
before there are any readers.

I rate myself too much,
although im not the audience,
click post poem, delete it later,
thinking no likes means no reminisce.

I hated myself once,
before I could make fun,
trauma days embarrassing ways that this day was not reachable from.

I choose to lighten up,
maybe buy some wine.
take a walk get chased by a dog
then stop and ask it why.
Joshua Haines Oct 2017
She is attached to the couch
  like a swollen tomatoe;
glued to the TV, supine and subservient.
  Texting while while writing a generic fantasy novel, with the
  televison serving as an audio fireplace,
  she believes she'll be famous despite
lacking concentration, respect, and will.

  O, call to the daycares; a baby is loose --
neck fastened by an electronic noose.
  America come and receive thy child;
harbor a body sheltered from the wild;
  And how could you expect such
sofa fungus to survive? Well,
  first, to save someone else, they
must be alive.
Cameron Banowsky Aug 2017
Flailing your arms in the air
Lord I've seen too much of this life.
Well **** it.
I don't care.
Neon lights are shining so bright
In my face
I can't
See
Where I am going anymore

Take Me Out
Take Me Out

Busses and trains.
Driving people in circles,
where they'll remain.

Nothing is gonna change.
Give up.
Do what you want.
Stop playing your ****** up game.

Just relax.
But hold on tight,
it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Take me down.
Take me down.

Take me out
of my body
my mind  
of my soul.

Take me out
because I see what we're headed for
Oh yeah.

I know what we're headed for.
I know what we're headed for.
I know what we're headed for.
I know what we're headed for.
An old one I remembered
Ksjpari Aug 2017
Another romantic poet for whom gusto
Of poem was great and alluring, ergo
He would a novel write and praise Nero.
His solitary poem was a masterpiece forgo
The old ideas and forms of poets did gizmo.
Bridge  and Cuckoo poems have inflow
Of creativity and rhetorical devices lo.
Can anyone join him in his maestro?
No! None can! Even searching in Oslo.
Hence, friends, give him courtesy low
And try to achieve views getting below.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where ending words of a line rhyme with one another, at least in last sound. I named it Pari Style. Hope readers will like it. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style. Thanks for your inspiring, kind, soft fingers.
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