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My torch light glints off the shiny orange gem, that lies next to my friend Jim,
The poor ******* picked it up before he could flea, and now I feel it pull towards me,
The radiating heat is so soft and sweet I can feel my feet shuffling towards ultimate defeat.
As I reach down to pluck it up, the first feel of it is such a rush.
The power of it is to great, I'm going to faint my soul is no longer mine to hold and cherish it resides within the gem, now I'm with my true friend Jim.
The orange gem in the Tomb of Horrors 10, 2020
I am saddened by
What my precious
Had to go through
All those years ago
In opposing
Sides of the attacks
He was hurt by someone
Whom supposed to protect him
And I triggered by the idiots
Who caused the attacks

‎أنا حزين
‎ ما غالي
‎ كان لا بد من المرور
‎ كل تلك السنوات الماضية
‎ في المعارضة
‎ جوانب الهجمات
‎ لقد أصيب من قبل شخص ما
‎ من المفترض أن يحميه
‎ وأثارني الحمقى
‎ من تسبب في الهجمات
In kindergarten we learn the alphabet,
We color and make terrible art,
And that sharing is caring.

In 1st grade we learned bigger words,
With the worst thing we had to worry about,
Was yet a simple spelling quiz on Friday.

In 5th grade we learn numbers are confusing,
And learn about the planet we live on,
We find out why the moon goes away.

In 6th grade we learn about morals and sorrows,
As we're quickly taught the horrors of our history,
Of all of the pain, torture and lost of life we caused.
Honestly such a jump in what we got taught in school
Paper Heart Poet Apr 2020
All the victims and their sin
Burning fire on my skin 
Screaming children of today
Born from fear of yesterday 

I was breastfed the pain of generations 
Drank up their instincts to have suspicions 
Past poisons my bloodstream keeps me in cages 
I’m mentally struggling to escape all these places 

Electric buzzing in the heads
Causing offsprings in distress 
Piercing shrieking, heart attack
Tears of anger, slow, numb death 

Deformed tranquilizer dart 
Broken vocal chords, no art
Cardboard-Jones Feb 2020
You take the worst of you.
You take the worst and hide it away,
Deep in a dark building,
In its dark basement,
In the darkest room,
And lock it away.
Hidden and forgotten.
You hide it because you’re ashamed;
You hide it because you can’t erase it.
So it’s buried with all your flaws,
Never to see the light.
Time convinces you this is who you are.
And you believe it so.

Then someone comes along
And sees what you want to become.
What you can become,
And the light they shine on you
Is the warmest your skin has ever felt.
You want them to know the real you,
Not the version common eyes feast on.

You clutch the key in your pocket,
Twirling it in your trembling hand,
Wanting to hand it to them,
Allow them to venture to the depths of your failures.
You want them to see it and exclaim
“I still accept you.”

The thought fades,
And you’re reminded of the storage
That haunts the basement of that lonely building.
You see the terrors tucked away
And imagine what this special person would think.

You are a hoarder of horrors,
Too afraid to let anyone see,
And too afraid to let go.
Diksha Prashar Jan 2020
Time can soothe the burns
But, scars still remain

Reminding of struggles and hurt
Off and on again,

No time machine to
Reverse the horrors played,

Only hope and patience is
Virtue of sane,

Restoring what lost in vain?
Diksha Prashar Aug 2019
Again we meet
Different circumstances
I plead,

Gaze on ground
Too afraid to see
The tale you once told
A true picture to hold,

Horrors came to life
I regret ignoring your cries,

Here I am again
A trip down
Memory lane,

Still pains the same
You reflected it
All over again,

Decisions went wrong
You witnessed it all
The cries and the pain
The blue and grey
Marked this landscape,

The invisible cloak I wore
The fakeness adored
Crushed the fire
You know it all,

Restless day and night
Anxiety choked the pride
Believed the lies
Even though you creamed
The truth,

One brave step
I’m free gain
Took sometime
I’m ‘me’ again,

After all we meet gain
You reflected the smile
I in love again.
Abira Muhammad May 2020
Every night has it's own horrors,
when I'm alone.
I overthink all the terrors,
that fight to ****.

People leave eventually,
but not before fake advice,
which leaves their mouth flatly
while my mind fights to see the point.

"Suicide doesn't end the pain,
it passes it to someone else"
But what if there is no one
to pass the pain onto.

This is an ongoing battle,
between my heart and my mind.
Another word,
and my heart will win the fight.

I fight to be alone,
yet I can't stand my own presence.
Each time the sun rises,
my body magics another scar.

I am a flower,
amongst the rest.
Yet I am lost,
because I am grey against the rest.

I'm sorry I didn't speak,
because of the words that left your mouth,
and landed like arrows,
not allowing my heart to breathe.

Now every word that leaves
is measured.
Making sure there is no poison,
so another can breathe.

Her parents told her to be happy,
coz angels don't cry.
Angels can fly said,
and jumped.
chitragupta Mar 2019
Hello there, stranger.
Come for a little darkness, have you?
Trade me a cigarette,
and I'll dive into the depths of time
to conjure some horrors true,
Scars old and wounds anew
Would it not be easy if the past could be shed like a lizard's tail?
It would give space for new memories to grow
Paul Butters May 2018
Deep within the spacial abyss that is my brain
There lies a little blue planet called “Paul”.
Hidden away from most of reality
This world is full of wondrous dreams.

Its drifting continents are full of sporting arenas,
Traditional pubs and inns
And swarms of gorgeous women.
Lofty mountains overlook sandy beaches
Fringed by sun kissed palms.
Endless vistas of hill and dale
Teeming with Life.

There is a Dark Side too:
I have my “Mordor” for sure
And my own Sauron.
Who doesn’t?
Lands full of man eating wasps
Fearful ghouls and witches
And torture chambers
Full of dental equipment.
Giant eyes
And Mirrors
Which take on a life
Of their own.

But let’s focus on the Brightness here:
The music and poetry
And even dance
And romance!
A place where we can “Get Around”
To Beach Boys harmonies,
Rock to Chuck Berry
And enjoy whatever delights Carlsberg can conjure up,
If not a pint of “*****’s Beer”
From Cleethorpes.

Paul Butters

© PB 10\5\2018.
Welcome to Planet Paul.
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