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He feels natural,
Not supernatural.
Thankful for the external-
That there is no eternal-
Being who is unilaterally supreme.

He doesn't need prayer:
Just truth covered by layer-
After layer of untruth.

He needs more of the now,
the present and the how.

He needs, U.

??.02.12
Written during a time of atheistic belief.
Realizing What Matters

What matters is the positive,
a look into what's relative...

Relativity can't deny the truth-
Don't trade an eye,
and don't trade a tooth.

What matters is a simple word,
something worth while...
worth being overheard.

Build a bridge, and don't destroy-a-one.
Picking up what's left isn't fun.

Enjoy your aspirations, and dreams-
Enjoy your youth before you're falling apart...
At the seams.

Live in the moment, but not for just today
This one moment starts at your birth,
and ends when you've out lived your stay.

7.18.2011
K Balachandran Sep 2016
1
An ant rants
when left behind
by the greedy mates
who carry together
for the rainy days,
a luscious carcass
that was a grasshopper
(with hopes and dreams
that kept it hopping
not long before)
"******* all,
they wouldn't wait
even for a moment
for those less inclined
to greed and avarice"
The ant fallen by the
wayside frets and fumes
burst out  in flames
with rightful indignation
and anger.
2.
A ghost pants
while climbing the
steep gravel path
leading to the cemetery
he chose to visit that day,
"***** *******
couldn't make the gradient
little more convenient,
for a weary ghost
compelled to visit
burial grounds at
lonely midnight hours
that too by foot"
prattles the agitated ghost!
3.
A gentle wind chants
effusively like
a prophet,about the
nature of all things
material, in the past
present and future.
"Nothing lasts for ever my dear,
except pure consciousness
the absolute,that manifests as
all that we experience,here
in this transit camp we call life,
fly, fly till you embrace
nothingness, the essence,
on the wings of the winds
of change, reach the destination
beyond the limits of body and mind"
4.
The ant to which was revealed
the futility of illusory existence
lets go it's chase,knowing
it doesn't make sense
for a carcass to be, soon
to chase another.
He takes a new path
decides to go it alone
all the way beyond darkness.
A firefly he becomes,
liberation personified,
Enlightenment suddenly lights
the dark undulating sea
of ignorance gathered through lives.
5.
The ghost, (an other name of past)
sits on a tombstone relaxing,
decides to dump the routine
of haunting, stalking the weak
midnight visitations et al.
He grows wings at will
dons the garb of a dark angel,
on his way to gloomy light,
the next step to peace.
6.
Swishing  wind, chimes it's message
"This moment has already gone
hang on to the consciousness
(that fill all the vacuum of universe)
till hitching on to the moment next,
and if in the mean golden time
one can somersault,
to the absolute beyond,
go for it
if having a deep yen
to be immortal.
Tara Sep 2016
Hey, O knight in shining armour
Rescue my soul
The one that whimper your name in vain
Entangled with failure and remorse
Take me ashore

Hey, O knight in shining armour
Are you listening?
My heart grunts in pain
Won’t you pity me?
I know my faults
My ego is bigger than your pride
Let me be clear I am a monster in disguise
**** me. My soul wants to get rid of me
Trust me, the world will be in a better state without me
I have killed the good in me
I am a murderer, you see

There is nothing you can do to help me
Don’t change yourself for me
I have brought disgrace to myself
Dare you look at me with those merciful eyes?

Please take me away from this world
Where I slaughtered my dream, my hope and my passion
The darkness inside me has eroded away the light
Past and present has taken away my future

I don’t want to live anymore
There is nothing left for me to say
You heard me loud and clear
Grant my only wish
You know my present state
Free me before it’s too late
Pain
Walker Marema Sep 2016
This poem is about itself
How did it become in the first place
Oh, it just did I guess.

It’s not deep
It’s just about……
Itself
It’s not even that good
Ummmmmm….
What else can it say about itself?

It’s written in English.
That’s a fact
It’s a very factual poem
And it knows it
It knows it very well

There’s not very many big word in it
As far as it knows
It’s still pretty curious as to how it came to be
So…..let’s think about it together

So…
If this poem is only referencing itself
And we know it is by definition
Then, how could it have referenced itself in the first place?
We know, also by definition that it exists
But the only reason it exists, is because at one point it didn’t exist
Because it had to have started from somewhere
Otherwise it would have just been here to begin with
There has to be an answer, because, well, it exists……
I think it’s ranting now.
What do you think?
Is there seriously not an answer to this?
This is gonna drive me nuts
I think I’m about to lose my mind
Is it over?
Oona Sep 2016
Your greatest fear is of someone yelling
Fire! in a crowded theater, of the cries of children,
the way popcorn would be dropped, scattered.
Perhaps—if there were a fire, that is—
your body would lock into place,
like ceramic, like a doll,
and you would be able to do nothing except sit there,
heart pounding, blood flowing; perhaps you would press two
fingers to your veins, let the sound of your
adrenaline overpower the way smoke that
doesn’t exist floats through the air, into your lungs,
suffocating you.

Maybe if you try hard enough,
there will be a Fire! in a crowded theater. Maybe, sickeningly,
you want to watch the way mothers would
throw their children over their shoulders, race to an exit.
Maybe you’d rush to an exit, too. However, there’s a chance that
you’ve just normalized death, that you’re afraid of
fear itself, the crackling of flames,
the smell of burning plastic, the color
red,
b e mccomb Sep 2016
begin with a
disinfectant wipe
and wash your eyes
right off your face

(it might sting a little
but that's a small
price we all must pay
before we die)


next grind your
toenails down to a fine
sheen using only the
shower curtain

(it may take hundreds
of years and that's why
i'm telling you to
begin immediately)


let the roots of your
hair dig down into
the ground and slowly
bury your face

(at this point in the
procedure you may
pass out from lack of
air or lack of hope)


finally tattoo morse code
messages behind your ears
with a rusty safety pin and
old charcoal art pencils

(it doesn't matter what it
says because nobody can
read it back there nor
do they actually care to)


and submerge your
nose into isopropyl
rubbing alcohol just
to smell poisoned

but most importantly
of all when you begin
to experience pain so
intense you do not
have words with
which to describe it

always tell yourself
that nothing is real


n o t  y o u
n o t  a g o n y
n o t h i n g
i s  r e a l.


then take down the
noose hanging in
the back of your closet
turn off the light and
fall into the deepest
sleep of your life

*(whether or not you're
real or not doesn't matter
it just matters what you're
telling yourself to stay alive.)
Copyright 8/13/16 by B. E. McComb
Caroline Lee Aug 2016
8am solo endless drives in
Purgatory
Will you remember me?
Will you still say say my say my name
Or have I disappeared into all these varying shades of 8am
Have I become the way I looked at him?
Will I fade here? Or will I reignite only to show you up
Turn up and burn up I know you never wanted me
Just wanted the person you imagined me to be
Now all I see is the white lines of this highway
Purgatory
Will you remember me?
Will this be
Forever?
8am fade out good so slow
I'm nobody's baby so nobody needs to know
My glass bloodwork and hazy brain
I know you don't see me the same
Purgatory.
Written in the parking lot of my community college
Also frank ocean's new album is perfect.
noor ande Aug 2016
whats a life, lived in denial?
lived in doubt
lived in exile from my own mind
in a blackout
of the reality...
or should i say, realities
encompassing me
the only truth i know is that im on my bed,
my sister is reading a book that she had already read,
my furniture is taunting me with its realness,
while my thoughts have fled in the midst
of my search for the parts of me that truly exist.
b e mccomb Aug 2016
42%
(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist.)

intensely greased
plastic hair
secondhand green day
coldplay in the rain

i love the sound
that waxed paper
deli sheets make
and i could choke
on a glassed reflection
of celery salts and windex.

(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist
because when i look into
my eyes i see someone else)

i'm not catholic
and do not
understand who
st. peter is

but i wonder if he won't let
us into heaven because we're
failures or if we're failures
because he won't let us into heaven

(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist
and questioning how
bad hell can really be.)

too quiet for a saturday
i wrote the word
decaf so many times i
forgot how to spell it

decaf
decaf
decaf
decaf

(does decaf
have two f's?
because i don't have
two f's to give anymore
i mean i would but
i can't even find
vowels much less
extra consonants)

when i was a child
i always counted in
mississippis
now that i'm older i
find myself counting in
cappuccinos

i dreamed my
legs were bleeding
and i remembered
that they're not

i want so badly
just to sleep in
a bag of crystallized
ginger and swim
in a mixing bowl of
tasteless tea.

(i can't tell what's
real anymore
but i'm 42%
sure that i am not.)
Copyright 8/6/16 by B. E. McComb
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