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Marla Jan 29
Hollowed corpses
Left on hallowed ground,
Lacking the depth
Of what was once profound.

Rip my heart to shreds
As your empty words
Entomb me.

For your light is-

The love in you-

And your soul...
Perched before the mirror,
my eyes open to see
the greatest of loves there in front of me

With a smile, a chuckle,
a nod and a wink
I’m falling in love above my bathroom sink

My ocular captions
are fixed in a gaze
and neither denies
our lust-worthy ways
Never before
have I seen such a marvel
Brought almost to awe
yet I recant such sparkle

For my status is equal
or better than such
I say with full modesty
(as if I must)
The greatness exuded
Displayed on both sides
It is something that I
and the other can't hide

All of those who now know
and all those who shall see
will admire and greet us
down on bended knee
Consternation displayed
only to be outdone
by illustrious gestures
to this royal son

But enough of the rest,
there is just you and I
“All of those poor, poor people”,
we say with a sigh
They will truly not know
what it is to be us
When you don't have to worry
And don't have to fuss

This supremacy life
is a difficult one
My heart would feel pity,
(If I had one)
Instead it’s disgust,
disdain and the like
The fuel that's propelling me
forward with blithe

Still across from me now,
a reverent sight
Another near equal
and one who just might
be the only one worthy enough possibly
To stand here beside me for others to see

They think they all know
but know nothing they do
It's the jealousy had by them
for I and you
They’re like chlorophyllic plants
Dripping in so much envy
They try and they try;
They try to prevent me

From being the greatness
I know I can be
If just given a chance
Then perhaps they would see
But alas, in the end
it doesn't mean ****
What I care for is me
Only me
and that's it

Except my love for you
It's so deep can’t you see?
It is real
I can feel it
I truly believe
Only you I can I trust
The one person who matters
The one I turn to
when life breaks and it shatters

All others are pawns
I can move on the board
Sacrificial pieces
for falling on swords
No dispute; I am king
Come stand here with me
It’s us versus them
And trust me they’ll see

It might not be today
It might not be tomorrow
But it will be soon
when they join me in sorrow
Make all of them pay
For what they’ve done to me
For the pain they’ve inflicted
Their fault, you will see

Anything that I do
Even though I will try
They keep holding me down
No idea; Don't know why
They are all out to get me
So plainly can see
But one thing you won't see
is not the last of me

Here, take my hand lover
and come with me now
We'll go out in the world
and together show how
Their pathetic existence
can benefit us
We may step on some ants
But there's no need to fuss

The hole that is empty
That is our damnation
Use things superficial
Instant gratification
It's a short-term "fix"
But will make-do for now
In our path, leave destruction
This much I will vow

Happiness, thoughtfulness
or concerned empathy
Some examples of words
unfamiliar to me
Therefore, no one can feel it
Must feel like I do
Only then I'm complete
Feeling I belong too
Written: August 31, 2017 (revised February 3, 2019)

All rights reserved.
Raj Gomes Jan 18
Hope for love,
but also expect pain.
Because life is real,
and not an imaginary lane.
Maybe that's the only way
to stay sane,
in a world filled with
hate and disdain.

Chris Jan 4
Life will sometimes feel uncanny,
Weird and void of understanding,
Life will sometimes let me tell,
Be loveless, and will hurt like hell.

Love will sometimes feel so forceful,
Leaving you to face the cold,
In that time to be remorseful,
Is to really hate your soul.

Life will sometimes feel like falling,
To the endless pit that's calling,
All those who betrayed their wrath,
Downwards surely strays their path,

Love will sometimes be disgusting,
You will sacrifice your dream,
For someone who is neither lasting,
Nor are fully who they seem.

Life will sometimes feel unchanging,
And all the joy in it like fading,
But no matter where you turn,
Wrath should always brightly burn.
Rohit Goyal Jan 2
Plentiful visions of gloom and sorrow
will still lurk in the air tomorrow
and so will lurk the tearless cries
from a million dried eyes

Has it (the hope) been lost?
Was it never really there?
Will they smile when the lights go out?
Will they look up at the dark sky and shout?

The void in the dull night sky
may very well be filled and soon,
but the one in their hearts will remain
the new genesis? "Let there be disdain"!

Will the skies show them the way?
deliver them, across the waters so cold?
or will they give up too soon?
on the song from the moon!
Scot Dec 2018
Organized religion is owned by man
Shaking every dime from you that they can
No doubt there’s a God for the evidence is apparent in the skies
But God is not restricted to a denomination or building, or human lies

One preacher scares the hell right out of his flock
The next is political and makes you place handbills for blocks
The other is full of gossip and lust that drives you out
My favorite is the church that collects your tithings so “they,” can take it to God for you...

Some teach you that your doomed because of your very next sin
But how is that true if Jesus died for ALL of them?
Many that read this will feel an insult or perhaps, hope
Don’t mean to offend, just using the mind, that God gave me

Can God operate outside of a church, I think yes, I would say
He’s pulled me out of, and through, some awful messes
Like when I was flat broke down to my last twenty
I saw some of His people, worse off than I
So I gave it to them

When I returned home straight away
Lain upon the ground where I parked
A crispy new 20 greeted me, it’s His way
Or what of the times when I avoided death inexplicably?

“Heard,” in my mind “stop walking,” just short of a door
And a blast of a 12 gauge shotgun did roar through the stoop
Many more times did he thwart my death, too many to revisit
There are many more, so for brevity’s sake, one more I will tell you, a point I will make

Arrested for shoplifting a ****** addict did find herself
She smelled of death and was ragged and missing teeth among the rotten
Ravaged by AIDS, for her death was near
The jail would not book her in spite of the charges

“Too close to death, they proclaimed,” take her and release her
I asked her if she knew her death was all but here
“Yes,” she replied, but the drugs I can’t quit, I am lost
Again, the voice came urging pray with her.  Sit.

So I knelt down, her hand in mine, and prayed for her soul
Clearly a sinner, rare the church that would seek her
But God did search for the stray 1 after leaving the 99, how like Him
I am certain she’s with God, since she surely did die

To me, the church is the playground of the enemy of our souls
We have a better chance of seeking Him on our own than through men
I wouldn’t worry who you think you are, only taking account of your sins
You only recognize the presence of what the religious folk can’t admit

I’d rather be honest, be around sinners, than those with their airs
Jesus was outcast living among those the church would not dare
To those that are,”holy,” I warn you this way, be aware
You may find it very hot upon your last day.

How will you fare?
Allyssa Buenafe Oct 2018
I can’t find the words.
Sometimes it comes out in a jumble,
Other times,
It’s all so quiet.
Help me make sense of the words that seem to fall out of my mouth.
I just need a little help.
XyL0S Aug 2018
Y O U...





As I  
d    l
e s    s
    y        Bled,

Why am I glad?

If this makes any sense to you, you know the pain.
nihiliti Jun 2018
I can call upon myself
but it's just a shell

bones break surface
offering quilltips
for forging poems
graduated cylinder-strained
diluted-air grade
not from concentrate


the mechanism's safe
as sealed secret tombs
are safe
an echo of disdain
for which I apologize

aquiver with paste-
like listenings
replicating histories
foreign and estranged
to taciturn gaze;
functional, but

shells function as people
but not as well
words wish but don't tell
what awaits ingrained
in bones broken
for blessing

pop! but distressing
echoing, echoing
pain empathetically parsed
but cannot relate
it's too late

I'm walking
but not talking
I'm listening
but not communicating
I'm dead
but not yet down

entombed in my head;
all that might have been
still can, but
a refusal to bend
is found
in my own pen

I've built a prison for myself
The writing's on the skin.
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