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We Are Stories Nov 2016
we see life through eyes shoved deep in a clothes dresser
-dressed in one style, one choice, one black or white sweater
we are the oppressed or the oppressor
we either question or we answer
we either are racist or we are racist-
it doesn't matter within which color you exist
at one point or another you are the blunt of every man's expense
the traitor or the one with the knife in your back-
turn around and your friends are nowhere fast-
build up a blind eye and you missed the opportunity to chose a side
and now your an inactivist- a pacifist
someone who's breath is saved is not valid, this
life style leaves us bent between broken lips
and bad lies heard from different separatists
bent on making a society divided on who's right and who's wrong, what's the matter with this!
battle each other with harsh words and confrontational jargon fits!
spit on each other, barely walk away and shake our fists!
is there not enough wisdom for us to understand
that we are merely just imperfect man-
must we argue over who is the most persecuted, most bruised!
who live in a country with the most benefits for you to choose!
the ones who live in an electrical utopia and a house too!
the ones who barely have to question anything, we just receive and we roost-

selfish enough to carry broken glass mirrors on our masks
and stare forever into our forever broken collapse-
if your not on a side, than you are useless to the system who wants you to **** your brothers and fellow humans-
if you have an opinion, you are a zealot who needs to be purged-
when will we see that these are both wrong.
when will we see anything but ourselves
Essen Sep 2016
****, this coffee's really sour
I've been drinking it for half an hour
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem about a cauliflower

[Cauliflower's foolish
It doesn't fit the theme
I'm sick of all your nonsense
I'm tired of your memes]

Woman selling knickknacks
I'm not eating tic-tacs™
Your words were put in brackets
Check out my rhyming tactics

I see that you're not one for fun
Your a cloudy day, I'm the shining sun
My absurdity
Is the key
To happy for eternity

[You're clearly deeply broken
And only you can cure
Your fundamental problems
But really I'm not sure

The only one who conquers
Is one who really tries
So stop with the gorillas
Since everything will die]

Maybe you don't understand
My foolishness goes hand in hand
With making things that are the best
Like giant squids and turnip fests

Order, chaos, streets and bogs
Them, White, Color, Talking Frog
Odd on top but clear below
From ash and fire life will grow

Then again I see it's true
I am right and so are you
Maybe we both have a claim
In this crazy poet game


That didn't rhyme!

[It doesn't have to]

I love you

[Mmm hmm]
I know I said "soon", uh, nearly two months ago. Nothing really moved me to write a poem until today. This came from a conversation with my cool bud, Ashr, whose poems you should check out, even if they aren't Fun Poems for Cool People. I'd written the first stanza and sent it to her and she put her own spin on it in order to show me how to improve it. This led to a bit of a debate about what makes a good poem. I ended up keeping my version of the first stanza but extended the poem to give it more depth.

In a way this poem is representative of the conclusion I came to in the last rhyming stanza. It is foolish, but it's substantial foolishness that doesn't exist for its own sake. She ended up liking it when it was done. I hope you do too!
rook Sep 2014
a disagreement
      between my bones and my logic
      my body and my mind
      torn between a choice
      and choosing --
      ****** if i do, ****** if i don't.
      my bones
      my logic
      my heart
at war,
      destroying this vessel, but
can't we all just get along?
this is probably not about what you think it is about.
Helseivich May 2014
Opposing ideals
Shift forward uncertainly
Reflection shattered
Agree to disagree.

November 2011.
June Montag May 2014
screamingloudly, shoutingcrazy
don't know why we do this daily;

backandforth the screaming match
when our ideas they just won't catch.

two bullheaded people clashing heads
until one of them storms off instead.

i mean well and you do too
but our ideas just won't go through.

banging heads against brick salls
our yelling echoing down the halls.

im on page two,
youre on page one;
all i know is this aint fun.  

screamingloudly, shoutingcrazy
i dont know why we do this daily.
the product of big projects.
Dia May 2014
I can't sleep when you're mad at me,
I feel like a bad girlfriend
Why didn't I try to fix it immediately after it happened?

I guess I should say sorry, it's always my fault,
Isn't it?
But I hate being the one to start apologizing
Why am I always ruining ****?
I know you'll tell me, after we make up, that I didn't ruin us
That we're still us
I know that. But I still ruined something

I'm sorry I'm insecure and I'm still nervous around you
I'm sorry I feel everything too deeply and get hurt by the smallest things you say or do
I'm sorry I'm sensitive. I'm sorry I got mad at you
I'm sorry for my one word answers, that was the wrong thing to do

I'm sorry I didn't immediately tell you I'm sorry
I'm sorry for writing this poem instead of checking if you're still awake so that I can tell you that
I'm sorry
12:45am and I can't sleep even though that's all I want

— The End —