Jobira 1h

Why cry for the dead
And shade any tears
Or are we moaning for our own sins
For the coming nights in fears?

Sooner or later
Darkness will fall
The waves of the nights
To submerge us all.

But, you better save your tears
And holding on to your breath
Nothing can rescue you from the fires
When you are caught underneath.

Tears don't bring back the dead.
Angie S 1d

frayed copper wires never to be bound
electricity is lost, connections unwound, and
where one end surges in power
the other cowers, weak in comparison
i watched their awful lives and wished
someone's expert hands could finish their plight
i attempted to fix it in the past but
other copper wires are so tightly woven!
and meanwhile, this little lightbulb
flickers meaninglessly.
why no one has smashed the wires
under their feet and then in a raging fire from fatigue i
dont know.

im so tired of the dark. im so fucking tired of it but im afraid of the light.

rant poem.

what if we had,
lipsticks for our filthy tongues
highlighters to our wicked minds

foundations to our souls
concealers to our negative thoughts

setting powders to our innocent
within
child

would we still hate
the melanin we did
or didn't have

would we still laugh
at a woman taking a seat on a bench,
in a park,
with a scarf

would you mock the girl
in the halls
that actually loved her little beautiful
flaws

will you still stare fiercely
at a young couple holding hands
not necessarily a woman
and a man

would we still oppose
& contradict each other
on which & who's religion's right

would we still dispute in so many ways,
by some terrorism attacks
setting towers on fire

setting each other on fire
in war

until we're literal naught?

Shanath 3d

In this torturous silence
That has lasted weeks
And burnt the night down to ashes,
I could hear my heart beat.
Like tiny screams underwater,
Water rushing into the lungs.
I could hear my blood
Walking in my veins
Punching the walls,
Tearing them through
The order of the heart
And pour out everywhere
They could run in.
Outside I lay so still and quiet
My mother should be scared
Of me losing my voice
But she isn't.

I stopped talking at home
Long back,
When I would hear the shouts,
The blows to the doors.
I feel my screams
During my growing years
Consumed the needs for words.
So I lay and this silence
Isn't odd
So no one is afraid for me
But I am.

How else do you
Know a forest is burning
If you don't see the fire.
How else would you
Know the ocean flooding the shore
Unless you feel the waves.
But you don't.
For you are in your buildings,
Behind closed doors,
You don't know when it pours
Unless you walk out in the street.
You don't know the storms,
The tremors that could bring you down,
But in your barricaded homes
You don't.
So tell me how will anyone
Know I am dying
When they don't even see me here?
They don't.

But I can feel
The waves,
The rain,
The heat,
The water I am swallowing.
Because I am all of these
And no one anymore
Can see.

Don't worry you are not the block,
I am the one blocked.

In the silences that preceded
the on going one,
I used to stutter.
I ignored those as irrelevant mumbles
But these are the sentences
That in those stuttered words
were broke.
This block helped me decipher and join those.
unnamed 3d

Home is an idea;
feeling.
House is a noun;
thing.

I haven't had home in a while.
I've had a house.
Four walls, a roof,
windows, doors,
but not home.

The feeling of home evades me.
I seek and cannot find.
I dream of home,
or what it was.

Home is an idea;
feeling.
Home is a fire;
ash.

Patrick 4d

Walk the city streets
Once the bars settle
And the apartment doors shut

The curtain of joyous
Twenty-somethings
Lifts from the stage
And a ragged hero
From a forgotten war
Sleeps in the city parks

He remembers jungles of brotherly love
As he roams the streets of sterile civilization

He wipes away the spit of curses
From passerby's in thick coats
And mirror shoes

He warms his hands
Over the heat of a trash fire
Hands that know the
Warmth of a gun
In a firefight

He scratches the whiskers
Hiding a face
Once shaved in the reflection
Of a winding river
Outside Saigon

They promised him golden fields of grain
And they slapped him a couple handouts
And a big fat
Fuck You.

JAC 4d

He will build you a liquid castle,
and you'll dive into it,
because you love shiny things.
We all do.

You'll swim the moat 'till the chlorine burns your eyes
and sears your liver 'till it doesn't hurt.
Then nothing will hurt
(and hurt and hurt and hurt)
as he tells you how beautiful you are
with your flushed face and mind
(and laugh and laugh and laugh).
When his breath warms the mortar on your neck,
your castle is on fire and it wasn't even yours.
The fire is sweet (and sweet and sweet).
He'll sink soft teeth into the balustrade,
whispering your drawbridge open.
You want (and want and want)
to embrace this siege:

Crumbling walls
mend
so
damn
wonderfully
when you want them to.

Your crumbling castle
has kept you captive,
but you're freeing your feeling, feel your face;
your face is on fire but you're freed and falling
off the edge of even your edges,
and you'll land in the lava lining your lover,
but it heals you and he'll never know it.
You can forge your failures into ferocity here
and have him help if he's helpful,
have him leave if he leaves.
Only then will he know
you forged a castle of steel
under his archer's eye.

You
won
this
battle.

Haven't thrown a long piece up here in a while.

I am electron
You are positron
I am moon
You are sun
Me, winter
You, summer

Yet continuosly turning in a dynamo twist
Burning, cooling, forgetting our places and time

We forgot, totally forgot.
This is the rule of the Universe:
The opposites are destined
To make the world go round
And shake it
Tremble it
In a bursting ball of passionate fire!

One day it won't matter how hard I try to be
the best thing that ever happened to you.
One day, inevitably,
I'll drown in the puddles of sweat in my shoes.

squish, squish
Plodding down the hallway to your room
I'll knock softly in case you're in a mood.
How did I get here?

A sappy, pathetic thing, standing outside your door,
ready to shit myself if you're mad again.
I stand with sweaty palms outstretched when you open the door.
Your face... I should have known better then.

A hug. That was all I wanted.
You could have kept your frown.
One hit and I was down, drowned.
The door slams shut again.

I can't smell dinner on the stove anymore.
The blood fills my nose and drips to the floor.

But I can smell the gasoline that I later poured out...


On the floor where we once cuddled all night,
on the couch that we bought from your friend you text sometimes,
on the wall where I had meant to hang pictures of us smiling,
outside your door that you carried me through once, as a bride.

I don't want to drown anymore.
Just like we matched once,
one match is all it took tonight.
One match to erase you forever.

I took the dog that you liked to kick.
We still drive your truck I lost my virginity in.
We found ourselves a nice little beach house somewhere
because God it feels so good to swim.

ronnie Jun 17

I am standing here thinking where it all went wrong
I am standing here waiting to burn, waiting to disappear in the flames
The vanishing act he's wanted to see for a while now
I am standing here waiting for death
Death is waiting for me
And now this is all the hope I have left inside of me
Is to wait
He told me
Time is the healer
And it is also the killer
And here I am


I chose time




And it's killing me.

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