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Yes I am a beautiful disaster
In my wake leave a bittersweet taste
A special kind of love in soul
Most of it goes to waste

I long to stop disassembling
Pieces one by one
My demons have spoken
They warn I've just begun

Hiding in the silence
I am too afraid to share
Do not like the way opening up feels
Like winter branches laid bare

Pages of heart are torn
Many stained with tears
Can judge this book by it's cover
As dark as it appears

As whispers flow throughout mind
Uttered from lips of memories
Wishing my residual sorrow
Would be carried with the breeze

Suffering rising into air
Dispersing until completely gone
Hard as I try to blow them away
Miseries keep clutching on

My words lie at bottom of my lungs
Too tired to crawl out
They weigh down my shaky breath
Until every one turns to doubt

I retreat into the shadows
Cloaked in grey and black
Waiting for happiness to return
My colors may never come back
I am a cute wreck (my version of a hot mess)
gen Jul 10
we witness things from our frame of minds
but we can never foresee what transpires next,
in view of the fact that life thoroughly shackles us
and takes our souls to the fathomless world.

people ought to seek for answers
though most of the time,
they go missing & empty handed
and will forever remain a mystery unsolved.

like events in our lives that manifests significantly
engraves marks, stains, and wounds of the past,
in a way our minds
would never cease to forget.
— g.c.
Don't call me a volcano,
I don't want to be a volcano!
Sometimes active,
Mostly dormant,
A stiff peak with indigestion,
Birthing igneous isles
across the seas,
Starving for eruption,
Hardening.
Waiting.

Call me a hurricane,
Say it with a tremble.
Never expect me,
Dread my return.
Never dormant,
Always hungry,
Carving my path,
Landmass by landmass,
Conquering, Striding,
Devastating.

Get your facts straight
Before you name me a disaster.
Ahmad Attr Nov 2020
It’s a bit hotter than usual today
The insects are awfully noisy
With hot torrid turning winds but still a bit moisty

Strange that I am quite refreshed
But the weather seems quite dead
Leaves crinkling beneath my feet
It reeks of decay and gutter gas leaks

The sky is a little too tangerine for an early  morning
It’s hot but clouds are now gathering
It’s hot, a lot, but clouds are now clamoring

Strange that the classroom is full today
With all their gossips, chats and muffled sounds
Strange, in loud crowd, is my darling sitting there alone
Looking out the window at the sky now turning brown

The sky unveiled the sun; it didn’t rain
It’s hot, sweat dripping on my notebook again and again
It’s burning hot. I’m scratching my skin and I feel pain

Strange that sun is getting bigger now
How is it getting so hot?
I’m going home now it smells like rot
Strange that I put myself to bed and slept a lot

‘’It’s getting hot, it’s getting hot’’
‘’Save us oh God’’’
‘’Save us our Lord’’
‘’It’s scorching hot’’
I listened to these distant screams in my sleep
I woke up, ran outside and the whole city was upheaved
It reeks of decay and gutter gas leaks
I picked up my phone and my eyes couldn’t believe
The only people breathing in this world are my darling and me

I rejoice, my wishes came true
Rejoice! Everybody’s dead and now I’m coming for you
Painting the picture of the world's end.
It is a follow up to my other poem ''Wish''
Chrissy R Nov 2020
As if my insides are too pink
and new to reach inside of
and pull out anything of value.
As if, because my body was not
forged out of natural disaster,
it isn’t a world of its own.
July Gray Nov 2020
Tell me, what's it like to be in love
I'm worried I've fallen in love
If a girl is the one I love
How much longer will I be loved?

You're planning for the future
We'll still be BFF's in your future
I've never trusted the future
And I don't trust you

Two words and what
Get disowned and kicked out
Maybe just hated and ignored
My future is uncertain

Trust isn't something that comes easily
I trust strangers over my friends
Friends that could be enemies
Why do they still assume I'm straight

A hundred sexualities and yet
Only one is always expected
Not even a majority anymore
Assumptions are dangerous

I only know one other queer. A gay
"It's inappropriate to say those things"
I'm in love. Who cares
What is appropriate

I'm tired of tiptoeing around
Hoping someone can hear the sound
Of my uncertain feet
Walking around pits of anger

Potential disaster
You tell me "go faster"
I'm tired.
But not physically
the title really says it all.
George Krokos Nov 2020
It appears that we've reached a point
in time which is called a milestone.
It's evident this isn't an exception
for its passing catches up with us
and no one can move any faster
not that we are running away
from anything when we're
all heading into disaster.
You only have to look
around and see the
real extent of the
problem at hand
that is now just
closing in on
us all from
every side
to stand.
While
it
comes
so close
it can't go
any further
but then has
to turn around
and go the other
way for everyone's
sake and not involve
some type of deception.
If you're wondering about
what's been said or where it's
going all I can say is to hold on
the time's coming for you to see a
familiar sort of shape with the words
expressed meaning its time has run out
and must be reversed in order for it then
to start again in a similar way bottoms up.
_____
Written in October 2020. Inspired by current events and some of the other word art poetry that I've read previously posted on H.P. Thanks for the inspiration.
Ash Johnson Oct 2020
Splintered stained glass holding
Pristine flecks of dust.
Roof agape, char flitting down
Into the greyed palms of their hands.
Marble floors coated in charcoal,
Red pinpricks contrasting grey.
The wreckage sparing only
The memories of those
Who watched.
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