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the dead bird Apr 2016
the shadows of others
which maliciously
dance
upon the walls
point and laugh
at my human body
that sits in my room
watching

they use their
shadows
fragments of their
true self
to shame and degrade
this person
my self
because I do not hide
my flaws
in darkness

the teasing
shades of human
criticize and belittle
myself and
the other few
who openly exist
as exactly
who we are

these shadows
fueled by
fear
spite
negativity
make every observation
of exposed flaws
I can only imagine
that the humans
who are casting these
shadows of hate
to be
biting their nails
and looking away
as their
shadow
becomes them

while I was
openly
exposing my true form
I began to hate
that of who I am
taking the shadows critique
to heart
when they are too weak
to expose
who they truly are

their shadows
came for me-
as did
shadows
of my own

instead of
hiding myself
becoming
the same as them
using my
insecurities
as fuel for hatred
to burden
upon others
when
the darkness began
to encroach upon me
it fueled
to make me hate myself
instead of others

now,
I have begun
to understand

my own shadow
will no longer
swallow me in darkness
as it is just
my own
embodiment of hatred
a version of myself
that isn't real at all

and the
shadows
from others
who spit fire
to try and burn
my flesh
will fail
as I now know
that if they exposed
their true self
as I have done
everybody
would be able
to see
that the faults
they accuse of
only exist
within them

and I
am just simply
me
I'm so sorry I haven't written in awhile I know none of you care but I finally got a job again and have been so overwhelmed I simply forgot to write. this piece is about others who critique and shame people for traits that they openly accept about theirself.
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
All that you are not
All those scars you've got
Will lead you to the end
Where I've been watching the world sleep again

Breathe it in
Forget our sin
Forget our spoken names
We journey to that sacred place

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance

You are a silver dream of mine
My only reason that seems to bind
Your golden grace bestowed on me
Leads me to a sudden peace

Awash in starry ocean waves
We've chosen our graves
Death is awaiting a single thread
A pale golden hair from atop your head

Breathe it in
Forget our sin
Forget our spoken names
We journey to that sacred place

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance
Rah-Rah Dec 2015
All my life I was taught
Feelings come and go
As the rain and wind do show.

All my life I was taught
I must stand in line,
That it must stay as sturdy as the Rhine.

All my life I was taught
Rules are to be followed
As birds walk on a tree that has been hollowed.

But must we believe
What we have been taught
For I have for so long thought that not?

Must we believe
What they all preach
Or become new like waves on a beach?

Must we believe
That they stoop so low
Or be individual like a river’s flow?

I now believe
That I must indeed
Find something that the world does so need.
A pretty simple poem I though up recently. I am open to any critiques that you have (ALSO GOES FOR ANY OF MY OTHER PEOMS)
who would be a holy terror on social media:
snapping selfies (often lying under the table - poor thing!),
commenting on comments on comments in the public forum,
"You ignorant cockalorum...!
     pennies for your thoughts bought my ***** shots."

She'd be caustic, sarcastic, bitter,
abrasive, abusive on Twitter:
"As regards your latest verse, the previous one was worse."
"I am hosting a social soirée...I'd rather you not be there...
   Are there evenings you'll be away?
"I appreciated your latest post
  Re: animal rights to equal pay.
...My bi-racial guide dog has it hard,
    being physically challenged,
      female,
        and gay."



Okay.  We know you are liberal and politically correct.  Now unplug, put down your I-phone, get up off your *** and step away from the mirror.
Go out into the world.  March.  Volunteer. Donate food or clothing.
Help somebody for Christ's sake.  You self-obsessed narcissist.
Nicholas Fogle Jun 2015
Yes,

I got bars,
it's not about fancy cars or Lil Wayne rapping about Mars.
So far I am marred and scarred by false charm,
burned and charred that we are stuck in this dung tar.

It's about understanding we are stuck in the under standings so understand this,
can bring raze as I raise and rise to clear out these rinse and repeat Rhymes.

I don't care about the money or women.
Will your Rap make a difference.
Only a few got the conscious to talk about love.
The rest is a pile of **** I put to the side and shove.
Simple Rhyming
Ottar Apr 2015
How do you do?
I am here for you.

Simple for me to say,
I am a container of dismay

After Thursday.

What is good poetry,
what is a good poet,
(s)he is a teller of stories in verse,
s(he) makes music out of sounds,
(s)he explores tension and boundaries,
s(he) undresses your sensibilities,
(s)he has a heart tapped into broken vessels,
s(he) can cry while in the midst of a write,
(s)he writes poetry for others, almost always from the self
s(he) can write love with a thousand different metaphors,
           but chooses not so to do.
(s)he loves language, maybe more than self, has as many
      books as dust on the shelf.
s(he) is a quiet observer, with no remorse for putting into
          words what the sky says to the child, what the man
          hears from the Earth, what a woman knows about
           birth and the pains of life as well, that no man would
          survive and too the wisdom found as one walks along
          the garden path.
(s)he knows that poetry is readily available, simply by being
     vulnerable and sometimes obtuse.
Ryn Dec 2014
Capture my body and a night of my life and you will have won nothing outside of my perpetually rotting shell.
My mind though-
Win my time
And you will have won everything of my spiritually nuclear substance-
You may keep all you find.

But you must leave when I say it's time.

C.e.M. 12.2.14
Rough draft
Ryn Nov 2014
And it will be ok when you walk away because
Maybe that’s me
And our temperamental interaction
Was a simple distraction
And a waste of gas.
This too,
shall pass.

c.e.m.
Ryn Nov 2014
Caught between the couch cushions
of earth and the abyss
what a sick twisted tryst.

whens the last time you really kissed
you know, pressed lips with a mister or a miss

Caught  in situations that have
persuaded a pulsating
aggravation

caught between the oppressive and the suggestive
childhood fades out in succession
because you are still hooked on
your old house

you are the deja vu
of what I
already do.

Excuse me to say that I am already done
I don't like to run
my knees sting from the pressure
but a lecture  
of run on sentences is longer than
a list on
some prison percentages

Caught between deranged and wanting to change
sputtering out the plague

my eyes are on fire
If I close them nothing will transpire
is that required?


Caught.
On an idea of something you are not
and I forgot.

C.e.M. 11.26.2014
this is not edited, I would seriously love some critique on this free-flow
sun stars moons Nov 2014
I think about the number of faces I see each day
and the number of faces I forget.
and the number of strangers who see my face each day
and the number of strangers who forget me.

I think about how easy it is to literally just pass by
and how many people live their lives simply
passing by one another, passing one after another
and how many people forget and how many remember.

I think about how many faces there are in this world
and how many faces I can sincerely say I know
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