Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sarah Feb 2019
A spider crawled into my life
And frightened for my own
I squished it underneath my hands
This was its final tomb

Its corpse remains wilting away
I am a ****** to its decay
Too afraid bury it, yet
Too scared to let it stay

Perhaps this spider was no good
But who was I to say?
For I know not the things it's done
And only pain remains
Cody Cooke Feb 2019
sin
They call me the Adam bomb ,
like I’m to be dropped over Eden ,
make flames of the birds in the sky
and name all of the wild beasts ash .
I am built of war and steel ,
still , stoic power ,
tucked up under this giant winged-thing ,
an egg ready to burst uranium yolk .

Hear the mechanic buzz of annihilation
as I’m carried to my glorified purpose .
From heaven , earth is gone ;
there’s only the dark and the loud machines ,
then the click ,
and then the floor opens .
I hover above white cloud-smears ,
feeling like Icarus : the power of the sun .
My cold creators with flat eyes and gloved hands
exchange a look
then I’m falling —

Sky screams , going down ,
I am neither Judgement nor Redemption .
I am not Grace; I am not the Fall ;
I am both the End and the Means ,
the “what Men stood for” , plummeting ,
wailing , ******—
the sound of the end .
Naomi Firestone Feb 2019
Who is Truth?
Is she the raw unabridged feelings that you barely allow yourself to know?
Is she a close encounter between strangers that stir up longing and desire?
Is she a story told that is so magnificent she could pass as a lie because Context was not invited?

Who is this judgement called Truth?
Such complexity and unconscious motivations constructing a tangled mesh of stories entwined...
Where in this beautiful mess does Truth reside?
Is Truth a relative to Social Mores, Societal Conformity, Religious Beliefs and so on?
If so, I don’t want to know Truth…

When I invite Truth in I must also invite Self Exploration. I must banish the enemy within for it has no seat at my table of self discovery...
Truth is the universe full of mystery
and we are infinitesimal cells in the circulatory system...
So i say just enjoy the brief ride and don’t think too much.
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 34

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

My Divine birth and moral death, in-between this two puzzle,
My dear soul, is dangling, my dear soul is sovereign’
I naturally born, before my noble birth.,
And died instantly before my noble death.
My Birth naturally obtains divine mercy of my Creator!
And peaceful death is inevitable.
In between my noble Divine birth and moral death,
My dear soul, is dangling precariously.

My dear soul, heartily enjoy a unique way of dear life.
and to voluntarily undergo the confirmed death.
My divine birth and death cant be compared equally,
In between my gentle birth and moral death,
My dear soul, is dangling precariously.

In my divine birth my active life
Dearly want to perform optimally a several journey.
And it will merely rest with my moral death.
In my moral death, my dear soul
Willingly experience the solitary journey to hereafter,
And it will merely start on the rare day of moral judgement!
In between my divine birth and moral death
My dear soul, is dangling precariously.

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Navpreet Kaur Feb 2019
Depression,
I can’t escape from my own depression
Don’t judge me,
For I didn’t want this
Don’t judge me,
When you’re even fighting your own demons
Don’t judge me,
For no one is really perfect.
Sunshine Jan 2019
Love or feel hate
Forgive or hold a grudge
Rush or Simply wait
Accept or blindly judge
jake aller Jan 2019
The angel of the lord
Appeared on TV sets
All over the world

People woke up
Expecting to see
The usual suspects

Talking heads
Talking drivel
Talking trash

Instead
A stern visage
A stern old man
In a dark suit

He had a salt and pepper beard
And long, dark black hair

And piercing blue eyes
Staring out
From his stern face

The eyes
Piercing the soul
Of all who listened

The voice
Of the angel of the lord
Was like thunder

And all over the world
People tried to turn off
Their TV sets
To no avail

Twilight light Zone
Prevailed

The angel of the lord
Stopped swearing
And said

In a calm
Deadly voice

People of earth
You know the lord
By a billion names

I am his spokesman
We’ve realized
There is the age of the TV

And we must be able to reach
You directly

Before one or a million
Could understand

Now no one hears us
For you are convinced

We are dead
Irrelevant
Washed up
A fraud

Frankly speaking
You all can go to hell

And an evil grin
Appears on his face
As he says

Can a fraud do this?

And outside
Thunder and lightening

A star comes down
And houses were blown away

And everyone was
Outside

The TV set
Was in the sky above

The voice of the angel
Of the lord
Proclaiming

Repent
The end is near
And now

No more TV
No more *****

The rights to you
Have been sold

For to quote Frank Zappa
You are all *******
You are all *******

All of you
Little, mean little *******

Let me introduce
My new business partner

Satan, also known
As the prince of darkness

God and Satan
Have agreed on a deal

A thousand year *****
A thousand year of slavery
For you

My little human *******
For your sins, your arrogance
Your foolish pride

After a thousand years
Of pure torture

We will return
To judge the living and the dead


Most of you will remain in hell
Some will be redeemed

And allowed into heaven
And now, back to your usual station

Welcome to hell
Satan said

And laughed and laughed and laughed
And the usual crimes resume
The usual lies and deceits and shames

For most people
It made no difference

They had been in hell
For centuries

For some
It mattered

The few decent people
Left on earth

Were condemned to join
The masses

For another thousand years
Of toil and misery

The bosses were happy
Satan appointed them
To continue to rule

But no strikes
No salaries
And as much abuse
As they could give out

And so, the world turns and turns
Following its way
Around the sun

And the sun
Turns and floats
Through space

And the end was here
And now

No one could tell
The difference anymore
Hell was here to stay
published in Bad Nudes http://www.badnudes.com/issue3.4/poetry.html#aller
shamori Jan 2019
Attached for life
A reminder of tough times

Not to remind me of tougher times, but to remind me that I’m still in tough times



Can I cover up how I feel with how I feel?

Just to look down and feel ashamed of how ashamed I am?


Will you look at my skin and wonder of a story? Ask for my motivation? Or look at my skin and make up a story and wonder on my lack of motivation?


I feel good about my designs. They define me.
I hate these designs. Because they don’t define me.



With pain comes pleasure. A sign of living.
With that pleasure comes numb and a longing for living.
nja Jan 2019
Cubism an ugly distortion, criticised in comparison to fine art. Look at those shameful, jagged and unpolished edges. But no, change your perspective. These deviations are the very building blocks that allow us to tower over those who once marginalised difference. Those who rejected the ‘other’, for fear of refracting their own reflections in the opposition. Inevitably they’re left face to face with the ‘ugly’ perceived in here.
My first art was painting. She has been my mistress for years now. This is me exploring how the new and modern is always rejected by the norm and traditionalists. Cubism comes to represent discrimination in society of 'the other', those who are different in us/them.
Next page