Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Umi Jul 18
A stimulating impulse,
Leading to the center of a drying up ocean,
Never a wish granted, it dries up to extinction,
What little hope it holds, vanquished in an instant,
Life that now cannot grow out of light, creates a desert,
How many souls will it take until it is satisfied with its destruction ?
Only sorrow may remain as the one true victor.
A heart felt fancy would be the assumption,
Of a brighter, lively future,
Yet there is no faith in it ever coming,
It is but a lost dream.

~ Umi
Rory Jun 14
I woke up today,  I looked in the mirror. I was all by myself.  Because I've got no one,  no one to call friend.
I'm all alone,  trapped inside of my head.

We all have times that we say goodbye, bring it all to an end.
But the strong will rise,  to comfort the weak and muffle their cries.

I stayed home today.  Tired of living my life as a lie.  Never again,  will I pretend,  and hide behind fake smiles again.

We all have times that we say goodbye, bring it all to an end.
But the strong will rise,  to comfort the weak and muffle their cries.

I know that there's nothing left in this world for someone like me. So,  I'll take this time to say I love you,  but *******,  and goodbye.
Pyrrha Apr 29
Some days are ephemeral
A short but sweet memory

Some are longer days
That carry me far away
And I simply drift

The days that are the longest
Are the ones that take me farthest

And I simply drift
Into the abyss of time
Chasms of nothing

The void of desolation
A veil torn to shreds by light

Till I find the path
That leads me back to myself
I will simply drift
A poem I wrote for my friends creative writing class cuz she was too lazy
katelyn Apr 27
desolation consumes me like a wildfire-
destroying every cell and vein in my body
every once in a while gasoline is added
creating a conflagration that no firefighter could ever extinguish.
i don’t panic as flames possess my hollow body,
i find a sick comfort in the destruction.
4/27/2019
Midge Apr 3
In a place full of terror
All I can see is the darkness
Black as the raven flying in the midst of nowhere
All I want is nothing but the blinding beam of light from the sun

I hear your voice shouting my name across the mountain of shame and hatred
Where I lay stuck with my thoughts of suicide
Catastrophic wails not heard from that mountain
No one, no one is there

Can I have at least one day more
To be delightful instead of feeling distraught
To see the sunshine kissing the clouds right before the twilight
To be happy, that’s all I ask for

I am close to abandoning all hope
And entering the ****** gates of inferno
But one striking light dawned upon this destructed entity
And saved me from the ocean of despair

Until I woke from this desolation
Realizing everything was a nightmare
For life is just a cycle of bliss and woe
All you have to do is have courage and fight your deepest fears
this is another impromptu creation from my inner state of being
Stephen Starr Mar 28
Unending happiness,
abundant distraction,
uninterrupted good fortune.
Just garden variety
excess.
What I got was best.
A clamped on winter sky
casting doubt, monotony.
A shopworn body,
maintenance required.
Never enough in
the coffers for my taste.
The usual
troublesome happenstance.
Desolation and beauty
are close cousins
pushing and pulling
rough housing,
as they do.
Throw your lucky penny
in the fountain
and walk away.
See if you wish it were still
in your pocket.
Then let it go.
Shaun Mar 25
Generally, whatever's said outside

some shack, some interim man's

dwelling/s- like his words

(are) just uttered in vain, not

cacophony, but smooth

round phrases, splayed with

well-rounded intentions.


Whether it's sonic reach

falls behind his sneeze

or his anger clouds the trees,

his shack- a mess of foul timber

shakes and struggles to hold

these words, an outflow of

his welled-up memories ( seared

through his longings)

haunted by willows, painful mist

and crumbling dwelling/s
A hollow chest once vigorous and tight,
now rises slowly contemplating
the next breath.
My father lies unable to get up,
or eat, or move his legs,
a beautiful shell stripped of everything
but the basic choice to love the
desolation that is left.
I converse with him,
my feet on the floor, legs ready to
run for help or cover.
I stay, mesmerized and curious,
a man in and out of
a space much larger than his useless
legs can take him. Is it a journey, Dad,
just as they say? And by your breath, you are telling
me you are leaving? But where will
I go when torment comes and the ground
shifts beneath me and the only solace
I know is the flesh of the man
who trusted life enough to risk
bringing me here.
Have I taken hold of life with
enough resolution to walk from your room and say
my own risks are enough? My own mistakes
can stand inside this air we share together?
When you stop and I continue,
we will drop our dueling swords, our eagerness
to pace the other. The cavity inside you
grows empty, my attempts to
send you the smallest drop,
a reminder of fullness, do not belong now.
We breath together, an hour or more.
My conversation has fallen away.
I feel the warmth of your face,
the last time, as it turns out. The act of courage
for the night, my measured steps
making distance I cannot replace.
On the death of my father August 4, 2014
Kivanc Feb 7
Sky
I will dive into desolation before sundown,
If the weather gets darker, I will be lost before tasting
One who likes daylight in sweet sound of tune.

We have to look up to sky to see what's inside of it,
Temple of breath is shaken cause of the sadness,
And excuses disappear in sound of love.

I didn't realise when moment explained fact of separation,
Necessaries of love is appeared slowly with effects of sadness,
I have to lose you and me in sounds of instruments.
Next page