A sharp chill seeping into my bones
Awakening the energy and power
That have laid dormant for decades
A sign that I am beginning to change
Becoming something different
Something better than this
A higher being of a kind
Of those that rest above the rest
On uncharted territory
Those placid silent doorways
Opening up to hidden dimensions
Parallel universes where all is perfect
My passion spills into rays of hope
Like the sun's warm glow
Reaching out to touch each of it's children
The tormented cries in my head not theirs
But my souls desire to return to it's home
Not the place etched in my ID card
But the motherland and source of all life
A place so sacred we had to leave behind
Hiding away it's immense strength and power
From the destruction mankind bring
Slung over their shoulders like an arrow
Their shields made of hatred and anger
The energy surges through me
Like a blazing forest fire
Melting away globues of fats
Layers of charred skin and flesh
The whole nauseating charade of disguise
I am becoming immortal

Dani 2d

I crave the comfort of white noise.
When I fall asleep every night, my box fan carries me as I drift off.
Its blades spin up and its humming fills my room
Like a sweet lullaby leading me off to a silent world.
I used to play albums off of an old CD player:
Anything to block out the whispers inside of my head,
Anything to keep me away from my thoughts.
During the day, when there’s no fan to keep me safe
I turn to the comfort of music:
Pop a headphone in and my feelings melt away.
It keeps me focused, but in a way, it’s my distraction too:
The kind that fills my head with lyrics instead of questions.

Questions.
Endless questions.
They’re the white noise inside my head the rest of time.
They’re the bullies and I’m their victim
But there’s no one else around to save me from their violence:
They beat me till I’m bloody and bruised
Mind sliced raw from their attacks,
What are you doing here?
What’s the point?
Why do you even bother?
Beating into my weakened defenses
They kick me especially when I’m down.
They gang up inside my head, doubling, tripling
Until they’re a chorus of white noise echoing off the walls.
They keep me locked up
In a cell with nothing but a bed made of broken glass
And a small fan in the corner,
Humming me to sleep every night
Because my room can offer me no other comforts.
I feel the questions just outside of my cell,
And I hide from them because there’s nowhere to run:
I’m a prisoner pressed into the furthest wall
As they taunt me from the other side of the bars I’ve built.
Why can’t you be happy?
Or normal?
Why don’t you just go away for a while?
Maybe forever?
I plead with them to stop their screaming
So they laugh at me instead,
A high pitched squeal that makes my hair stand on end,
My body tenses up, my ears start to ring.
And suddenly they’re something else entirely
The faces of my friends appear cackling
Questions spilling from their mouths:
Are we just pretending?
Do we really hate you?
What makes you think we care about you?
How do you know it isn’t just an act?
Their laughter surges in my mind
Like a sickening joke that makes my stomach turn,
And the white noise grows ever louder.
Even when the fan starts to takes their place,
Masking their white noise,
One finds its way in
To plant its seed of doubt
On the edge of my subconscious
As I begin to drift to sleep:
Are you just pretending?

I feel my breathing seize
Because suddenly I wonder if any of this is true,
Or if I’ve created a false reality for attention.
The thought seeps into my mind like poison
Whispering to me that I can’t even trust myself,
Tearing down every defense I’d built
Brick by brick
Until I’m curled up in a pile of tear stained rubble,
Knees bruised purple and yellow,
Lips chewed bloody and raw,
Eyes swollen red and glistening wet.
What’s wrong with me?
Am I hopeless?
Cause it feels like I’m spiraling out of control
Losing my sense of self to the endless tide of worry
And I’m not sure how to stop it.
So I begin to ask myself
What am I doing here?
What’s the point?
Why do I even bother?

Because I can’t tell what the truth is anymore
If my fan keeps the questions out,
Or if I’m so used to them;
I crave the comfort of their
White noise.

I burnt the bridge from me to you
because I'd rather drown in the deep ocean blue
than drown in the love that you never knew.
I lost the battle but I can't lose the war
so to save myself from crashing into it all
I made a promise not to fall again, I thought about it more.
I told myself that it's better to be alone
because no one can hurt you.
But it's not what I really wanna do
because happiness is worth the sorrow
yet I don't know if I'll want to see you tomorrow.
I don't live on the edge like that.
I don't let my heart free.
A cage is where it's at.
and I so desperately want to lose the key.
So I'm going to be bitter.
I'm going to be rude.
I'll do anything I can to avoid getting screwed.
It's not what I really wanna do
but I really need to get away from you.
It's nothing personal, at least not anymore.
I'm going to stay alone and I'm closing that door.
Maybe the saying will be true,
maybe another will open and it will be better than you.

Also wrote this poem in 2013, the same day as As Good As Dead. It makes me wonder why I felt this way given what I remember about this time in my life. Knowing the heartbreak I've been given since then can only make me see this past as comfortable in comparison.

I ain't into your subversive shit, Jewboy!
So,
The waitress at the Mercury Cafe liked your poem
What the hell does she know about poetry?
Women ain't supposed to be gettin' no education!
Even though the Taliban fellas' are Mooselems,
I think they have the right idea
About keeping women in their place.
Of course,
Men can't SEE the women
If they're covered up in a burka,
But that doesn't mean a man should allow himself
To become a Homo!
All them Homos should be shot.....
Even the Homo Sapiens.
They're the worst kind!

Pulling the leg
Of persons who grow,
And making them fall
And making them slow.


One thing but certain
Getting you jealous,
Ruining your soul
And blocking its flow.

                      



  Ajay Amitabh Suman

I am the author of  this  poem. This Poem is my Original work. I hold all the right in relation  to my poem,  as available in law. No body is entitled the use this poem , or any part thereof in any form without written consent from me.

Are you really gonna judge me?
               Because I'm not the same.
But haven't you heard?
            That difference is beautiful.
Are you really gonna judge me ?
               Based on a  book
                    Thousands of years old.

          A book that's created by man.
               It's made a breed of haters.
              All it is
                                   Is a book of lies.
              Created to take control
                              of everyone's lives.
              Well I won't be held down.

              Stone me.
                                         Execute me.
              I won't change who I am
                          for a man in the sky.
             Hate me.
                                      Desecrate me.
     I won't change for a book of lies.

             So if there is a God now
Are you telling Me?
             He made me just to be hated.
                       Made me out of greed.
             This is a world of judgement.
                         And we're all on trial.
             All of you haters
                             are living in denial.

             Stone me.
                                           Execute me.
             I won't change who I am
                            for a man in the sky.
            Hate me.
                                        Desecrate me.
      I won't change for a book of lies.

            Judge me.
                                                Burn me.
            I won't live in shame.
                               I will live in pride.
            I will not hide.

           The world's about religion.
                       I think that is a shame.
           I think that all the rights
              should be the fucking same.
           The same for every person
                             living in this world.
           The same for every living boy
                                                  and girl.

           This is a world of hate now.
                         I want that to change.
           But is our freedom
really out of range?
           You can't take it from us.
                   No, we won't back down.
           You can preach your bullshit
                 while we steal you crown.

I was drowning
in tears of lies,
barely could breathe
in the air of reality

You spilled the ink
of hatred over
on our memories,
intentionally

Listen, Old Man!
I don't want to be burdened with your problems.
I have enough problems
Of my own!
I came  to Denver
To escape my stupid family.
Why the hell should I want to talk
To someone like you?!
You tell me that your ideas are "original"?
There is no MARKET for "original ideas".
No one gives a fuck about anything like That nowadays.
We aren't living in the Hippy 1960's, dude.
A whore with a hot body,
Can earn $10,000.00 in an hour,
But none of your poems
Are worth a dime!

I've composed many poems on racism. I'm finally taking on agism.  Of course, the "Alt-Right" Youth that are "rebelling" is not so liberated. They're the counterculture against the counterculture of the 1960's.
trinity 7d

i hate her.
i hate the way she talks,
the way it's always the wrong thing,
the way her voice is always uneven.
i hate the way she slouches;
is it apathy she feels, or the weight of the world?
she can never seem to decide.
i hate that she isn't smarter,
that she isn't calmer,
that she isn't motivated,
that she isn't kind.
i hate that she trusts too much or too little.
i hate that she makes everything a big deal.
i hate her fickleness.
i hate her anger that she has no right to feel,
and the sadness she doesn't understand,
and her stupid ticks
and stupid fights
and stupid feelings.
i hate that she likes feeling sad
just to feel anything at all.
i hate her cliche words.
i hate her clumsiness.
i hate that she loves attention.
i hate that she tries to drag everyone into her problems,
ignoring the way they're hurting,
in some sort of warped cry for help.
i hate that she likes the way fire feels against her skin,
but most of all,
i hate that she can still face herself in the mirror day after day.

turns out i cant go long without writing about myself! sorry

We've been goin' to Hell, baby.
You,
Me,
And this entire country,
But I believe in a God
That gives people second chances.
Let's all come around,
And Turn this Corner
Together.

This poem was inspired by the great photography by stove cooked  on 500px
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