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Gerald Feb 17
Where do all those unexpressed emotions go?

Do they die, or maybe they just wander around inside?

Is my heart a grave yard...Or a town full of words yearning to be heard?
Anne Apr 22
You were already dead
by the time
I was planted in your soil.
Your story is one told to me
through grainy photographs.
Echoed whispers of
peripheral port cities.
Somewhere lovingly untouchable.
My home was once alive.

My stomach lurches
while picturing these
hollow streets,
once filled with laughter.
The harbour
bursting with smiles.
Each neighbour,
a family or friend,
usually both.

How I love this island!
The salted summer's breeze,
hand woven scarlet autumns.
Wild flowers dancing
atop cliff-sides,
free for us
to admire and absorb.
Absorb we did.

I swear my bones
are made of sea-glass.
How could they be
made of anything less?

In their stories,
you are a fairyland.
A cosmically unified olden wood,
dipped in Scotch
and swaddled in wool.

Yet your branches rot,
thinner and damper each year.
Soon the whispers
will be stale air.
No one will be left
to tell tales
of your beautiful youth.

Everything dies.
How I once wished to see
you in your prime.
Even in your postmortem existence,
you've given me
mud to stick my toes into.

I see you
melting into the sea.
I smell your flesh
being swallowed
by bottom feeders.
You are a wonder to me
all the same.
I can't imagine growing up somewhere more beautiful.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
Look closer...
the winding trail
is baked to perfection,
bearing the scars
of a caesarean section.

Only the snakes
dare travel along I-8,
one-by-one the seasons lie prone,
in heat this sun will castrate.

The burnt aspects on faces
don’t smile or frown,
they peer out as residue
to places perished in the wake of
a cityscape’s head trauma,
calling out to the heaven’s above
as they await her to rise
with wings from these ashes,
in anticipation for a day ne’er to draw nigh,
even the steady fall of acid rain
will fail to wash away such genocide.

A favorite haunt transmutes
into a ghost town,
burning into the ground
the heat seeps into the soul,
and the procession begins again
for whom the bell tolls.

Towers of steel melt
as popsicles on the pavement,
the sun’s punishment
is constantly transcendent,
the noise of sparks and hums
rattle the spine,
today’s forecast is a good chance
of saturnine.

Eerie colors at dawn
make for a spectral scenic view,
picnic lunch in the park
is categorically taboo,
the hunters of men
swoon in subjugation to this tyranny,
weather’s wrath was everyone’s destiny.

Live a little, die a little,
pretend it cannot happen,
but in the end we all windup
as peanut brittle...
Blade Maiden Sep 2018
I reached the hill
now there is silence
Thought I took the right pill
felt like hope wasn't a form of violence
But when I met myself at the highest bit
I didn't know what it meant
The hill was really a pit
a hell heaven sent
Feeling fragile
wearing nothing but torn dresses
as the devil became more agile
I dream of him as he trespasses

I reached the hill
it's silent
My own abandoned town
filled with ghosts and defilement
Burned my notes of obsession
cinder on my lashes
for a brief moment I see flames of possession
as dark eyes rain down ashes
The devil's got ahold of me
he brought flowers filled with poison
I grew a field of them, a flowery sea
silence came as I shut the noise in

I reached
My silent hill
poisonous oceans will hide
as I keep us still
the devil always in sight
Ghost Town in my ears
Cleansing my soul like it's suicide season
I hope to feel the sun once again,
this moment in time.
I see dead things.
I see the world spinning making me nauseous.
The constant whispers drive me insane.
My youth story is beginning to come to an end
my eyes opening at the sight of fear,
the smell of lust,
and the pain of shame.
This haunting will never end,
the twist and turns levitate me up
like an angel rising to the sky.
This knife you placed in my back,
makes me feel like all there is to say is:
Football season is over.
You expect me to fall to your will,
when my allegiance is to the demon who holds me down,
and through the thick smoke
I ask
"Can you feel my heart"
And the only thing you reply with is:
"You're so creepy"
So as I stare at the black moon,
waiting to be taken to the
hospital for souls,
I sit here,
*"I am the Haunted Youth"
Shoutout to two of my favorite bands which inspired me to write this one
Jade Louise May 2015
The carnival was asleep
It had been for years
A stiff frozen Big Top
Unused gelato machines
Fading in streams of color
Like a crying watercolor painting

Falling asleep on the Ferris Wheel
Was never my intention
It had been standing still
In the heart of the abandoned circus town

We travelled through it
Like cells of life
A ghostly forgotten world

Our eyes twinkling with the wind and stars
Our feet living inside our boots
Stepping over
Clotted patches of dirt

And then we began to climb upwards
To the stars
Reaching to the sky
I climbed high enough
Trying to brush up against the ink black sky
Fireflies dancing in circles
The moon's craters smiling to me
In the most genuine kind of smiles
The lopsided and distorted kind

And we climbed upwards
In the frozen ferris wheel
We climbed like ants
We crawled through its spokes
Like we were suspended in a giant bicycle wheel
We climbed into faded pastel passenger cars
In our tiredness
We fell into them
Our thoughts suspended
Like the sky's stars
Hanging in the sky

We were in the most abandoned place
Yet we were breathing life into it

And then
The ferris wheel began to turn

Even the most abandoned places
Even the most ghostly
Can be awoken

By life

And with that
The Ferris Wheel began to turn
Joining the earth in its motion

And we each fell asleep
All of us
In our own faded passenger cars
Separate but connected
Turning with the world

Like a lullaby
Gently being rocked to sleep
By the Earth
Under the midnight sky
Earthlings, all as one

Katelyn Apr 2015
I'm done wasting my time.
How can you live like this?

I tried to be your friend,
But you were fakin'.
After everything we've been through.
I saved you from yourself,
When you had no one else.

Now *you
walk past me like you don't know me.
* youwouldn't be alive if you didn't call me.

That night* when you had no where else to go,
You were crying on the phone,
Sick to your stomach on the floor.
That night when you had no one else to call,
Sick to your stomach on the floor,
You were calling me like, Doctor!
"Doctor! Doctor!"
You're trying to live up to these expectations.
But realize I don't expect a thing.
Just open up a little.
Cuz this ain't riddle.
Spend ever minute thinking how you've used me.

Broken friendships might be endless.
Take back the time that I said we should end this.
Maybe if we just put this behind us,
Take off these blindfolds, see that we got trust.
You walk past me like you don't know me.
Spending your nights out with all my homies.
Maybe if you just cut out your ego,
Sever the ties, you gave me a reason.

Late last night you asked me nice,
But you burned one bridge,
Double crossed me twice,
Three strikes I'm over it.

Worst. Friends. Forever.
Kimberly Seibert Aug 2014
A bench isn't much of a bench,
when there's no one to have a seat.
Dreams are just dreams,
when reality is said to defeat.

They don't care about what you want,
or care about what you need.
They're looking at your ghost town,
with a need to be freed.

They retreat to where they parked,
just a ways down the street.
The silence is so very loud,
but still remains discrete.

When the colors have faded,
and the fire burns out.
And the people are gone....
you become the drought.

— The End —