Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
CK Baker Jan 22
I’m itchin for a tender
to serve me up a brew
with a couple wiley pals
it’ll surely be a few!

We’ll hoist a couple pinters
gobble up some wings
break the quips and banter
with a lyric that’ll sting!

fin
B Sep 2020
I've always found comfort
in your darkness.
The cold, heavy shroud
you invisibly drape around me
in times of weakness
and despair.

It feeds on the emptiness
that surrounds my heart and soul
with more and more emptiness.

Nobody can understand
the comfort I get
from this seemingly
unending sorrow.

But alas -
it is only temporary comfort.
Once I let go
of these dark shrouds,
I will finally see
the promise of a
better tomorrow;
but most importantly -
a better me.
Written last 20th June 2020 as one of my therapy assignments from my psychiatrist
Paramjeet Singh Nov 2018
Years.. I've spent on the people that I loved once, putting them first before my own self.. Self... WOW... Mistakes were made, it was too late.. when i realised, but I still Recognised... Through the foggy days and thunderous nights,

Time doesn't change nor does it change you, only you, your self, your own consciousness and self awareness is what allows you to adapt and change  by self by observing the true reality, only through the eyes of your own,

When I think, am surrounded by the thoughts of possibilities which are pushed aside, not focused on and neglected like life... Make me wonder times I spent in the past, years go by and I look and still ask my self who am I?

A purpose we all live for to survive , some do well so don't.. But it all depends on how we approach opportunities in life, its how we do it it's how we survive... To be Continued...
Fox Friend Mar 2018
The sun will rise each morning
In this I have no doubt
My fear is not that the dawn won't come, only that when it does, I won't be watching & that's a miracle I can't afford to be left without.

This fear is what drives me each morning
To move, to smile, to ask:
If my feet don't hit the floor and start running towards that miracle, do I even deserve the sunrise, or should I just turn my back?

The darkness begs to linger each morning
I used to think it demanded
But that makes it sound like I don't have the power, that the emotions run my show and I can't decide to end their dances.

And that's not true, I'm reminded each morning
I have the ability to choose
So now when I wake up feeling heavy I'm not as distraught as before since the belief that I am weak is my old story and I won't let it define me - I refuse.
Potter Oct 2015
Entering the grey
Guided only by confusion
A sense of growing stronger
As the distant light flickers
Maybe brighter than before

A tale of experience
A guide of truth now present
Arrival of the confidence
As the distant light flickers
Now surer than before

An intention misunderstood
A new found truth of feeling
Appearance of the passion
As the distant light flickers
Different from before.
I remember being chained to the floor
My mouth stitched shut by threads of doubt
Not knowing if I'd been locked away in an abyss
Or if my eyes had been seared blind by all the pain I chose to see
All breaths were heaving burdens
And I could feel my heartbeat slowing but did not have the will to use it to trace the passing time
What could I do?
Was there a word, a spell to unlock the hold placed upon me
If I could only clear away all the trauma and tragedy
But nothing, I could find nothing
I remember crying to the sound of voices telling me I would end and waste away here
They laughed as they told me I was meant to die
Screaming I tugged viciously at my shackles
Nothing, I could feel nothing
But then my moment came
Something gave way the chain had certainly loosened
That night or day or moment void of time
I bit down ******* my own flesh as I begged my body to fight for me
Despite the blood trickling off my fingertips
Hours, no it could have been days
I wouldn't have known the difference between seconds and weeks
But through curses and agony I split my chains
And I tore open flesh and stitches to let my cry of victory echo
I remember laying my fingers over every crevice of that chamber
Still blind to anything that lie beyond my cell of self inflicted torture
Surely there was a way to escape
I scanned over the room until I could find the walls without reaching out
I found myself stranded and the voices came back to mock my feeble attempts at freedom
And I cried and cried and cried
I remember growing a fire in my heart with the burn of determination to survive
Begging it to quicken and bless me with the will to fight
And that is when I began to climb
Oh how many times I fell and cursed my foolish hope
Only to convice myself to scale the wall once more
Sweat raining off my back
At last I caught a whiff of something alive and fresh
And titled my head up
Proceeding to choke on my own breath
How long had it been since I'd witnessed the glory of light
And with layers of skin stripped from my fingertips
I clawed my way up to flat land for my final battleNow I'm looking down on the endless pit I jumped into
And here is what I will remember
As I breath air both crisp and smooth
Savoring flowers unique scent and tastes
I will remember that the only reason I now take every advantage of our golden sun
By absorbing all and every ray of light
Is because of every ounce of effort and energy
I poured into gaining back my open skied world
Every drop of blood
Every anger soaked tear
Every fear filled drip of sweat
Made my journey a success
There was no miracle, no spell
Just a straight uphill battle matched only by my own will to thrive
And so there is no forgetting
That this was more than worth it

C.N. / Words written in the sky that is my mind
III Jan 2015
Maybe,
It’s not about finding
The light at the end of the tunnel,
Maybe,
The tunnel doesn’t even
End, and the light isn’t
The warm glow of a
Sun so high above,
But the dim illumination
From a floodlight, dusty,
And draped with cobwebs,
And maybe,
The floodlight isn’t there,
It’s shattered and its pieces
Bury into the skin of your
Bare feet as you step on them,
And continue to trek forward in
Darkness, towards the next light.
Maybe,
That’s a good thing.
You’re in a tunnel after all,
You can’t drown in blackness as
Easily as you can the sea.
Maybe,
The extra darkness
Makes the next floodlight
Brighter, and you’ll
Stop, and bathe in it a
While as your aching lings
Finally rest.
Maybe,
If you’re brave,
You’ll think you can
Live under the light,
Unaware that you’ll
Lose your knowledge
Of the darkness,
And when your light
Finally coughs,
And shudders
And dies,
You’ll get lost in the dark again,
Turned around,
Heading away from the new lights ahead.
Or maybe,
You prefer the shadows,
Carry a bat,
Or a golf club,
Or whatever blunt weapon
Catches your fancy,
And you smash each light
You pass,
Cutting the feet of all those
Behind.

Maybe,
There isn't a light at the end of the tunnel,
Just an endless string of floodlights,
Bright,
Shattered,
And lost.

— The End —