Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
My heart burns without presence

Your mouth says my name and voice still sounds the same

The inner damsel in me fights way through my flesh

Leading her by glow of all the potential I set on fire

My hot skin itches for touch while yours is soothed by a thick coat of reassurance

Is medicated by unwavering dose of devotion

My wound so raw and pain so sharp knives flee in fear of injury

My blood screaming for recognition

Like how many drops must be spilled for you to acknowledge I'm dying?

How many cuts appear before you notice I'm not well?

Hell
At this point begging for my tissue to be pulled in two directions and a massive amount of sodium chloride poured in
Would relish the agonizing
Unpredicted sting
Because at least that means I can tell you know I'm not alright

You seem to understand exactly where to rub the salt in
Not where to bandage
Written 6-19-19
Maybe I am where I need to be
The reason presently I can't see
Leaves with flourish spring from tree branches
Try to stay above these mental avalanches
Inside I am frozen
Hopeless
Blue
Outside I pretend it isn't true
Written 2-22-21
ogdiddynash Feb 7
exactly how white do I want to be?*


came to terms with my whiteness some(many)times ago,
yet, the dentist mixes in, an offer to refresh my yellowed
pearlys who’ve served admirably long, so sure footed,
long in the tooth…so to speak

surprisingly, this puts me off guard, uncharacteristically
unprepared,

exactly how white do I want them to be?

mmm…

the scale is as follows (intermediary levels are complicated)

1. Taylor Swift Bright







10. Cowardly Lion Old Yeller

and shades in between, I’ve grown accustomed to to my smile, which is closest to the Lion’s accreted usage and
wear and tear, and decide to stay as is, to keep my body
in a state of synchronicity

Doctor puzzled, “why do I smile?”

Why Doktor!
you’ve commissioned a poem,
and now know why your License Plate
declare you as Dentist so boldly,
You have the power to end racial strife,
uniform the populace with bright headlights,
and clearly should be allowed to proceed
posthaste to any and all life threatening
emergencies

but my preference is to display many decades
of failure, irregular brushes, periodic flosses,
my natural color, my god-given grace, and who
am I
OR ANYONE ELSE
be empowered
to disturb the natural order of human
perfectionism schematics, for
to every season, every human being,

is a color unique!
Jeremy Betts Jan 30
{revised version}

So,
You're back to question me
About this litny of negativity
To discover who or what misled me
But I know exactly who done it
Let me clear up the conspiracy theory
Place me in font of a mirror and look closely
Who do you see?
Me?
That's correct, very good, but the rest of the frame isn't empty
Take notice of the oblivious guilty party directly behind me
Particularly the one with the nerve to be judging me
Here,
Let me get out of the picture so the visual can be absorbed entirely

©2024
🚫 the first half conflicts with the last half🚫

I wish it was as easy
As you say it should be
To discover who betrayed me
But I know exactly who done it, place me in font of a mirror and see
Nat Lipstadt Jan 5
^words of Wislawa Szymborska
(a phrase from her poem  “Some Like Poetry”

———————————

gorge on poetry,
thereby!
imbibe your raison d’etre,
if well examined,
one will be exclaiming:

Exactly!

we on trial from birth,
for having been born sin~innocent,
yet guilty for having allowed
in nighttime light pollution,

one searches for places in
life’s momentary memorabilia,
band~aids, orange lifesavers,
a phrase, photograph, pale bulb light…

these “things,” are our
hitching posts, lean~to,
grasped hungrily for
support whence
negotiating the
steep Spanish Steps
of the staircases of
monumental outrageous misfortune

this poetry,
this poem,
this railing,

sustaining from Day One to
Day T+1 and beyond,
a protuberance of strength
to grab onto before the
shaming of old fails falling,
a head banging despair of barely
hanging on,

unbeknownst to you passerby,
we, who live a life of bare bones,
only mimicking existence, while
questioning Death’s delayed arrival,
and only by,

this poetry,
this poem,
this railing,

sustaining our edge two forward, one back,
cognizant of our awesome missteps,
begging permission, to-liv-liven, a moment more,
offering upon-this altar, a sacrificial lamb,

this poetry,
this poem,
this railing,

sustained in the writing thereof,
expelling the fumes of the

nearly, the never, the hapless hoping

Thu Oct 26 2023
8:15am
x^words of Wislawa Szymborska
(an excerpt from her poem  “Some Like Poetry”

p.m. when the poems grasps me,
my nostrils filled with single breath
good for one more day
Zack Ripley May 2021
I'm not sure exactly where I stand
When people ask me if I'm a boy or a man.
But does it really matter?
You're going to see what you want to see.
You're going to say what you want to say.
So while you decide, I'll be standing on the side
Just being me.
Zack Ripley May 2020
don't let yourself be swept away
By the promise of another day.
And if you have something to say,
say it.
Because no one knows
Exactly how long we get to stay
Crego Aug 2019
My
heart
strays
and
falls
faster
than
gravity
can
pull;
I
plummet­
I
sink.
2254
Next page