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Eyithen May 7
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
Atta Apr 22
i cherised ourselves in silence breeze
at every corner of crowd we've cultured together
and on every personalities i've dictaded
i've grown my trees on you

yet you put an end to my tree

i should had known you're my lumberjack behind me
brought axe sharpened behind my corner
you'd warmed me by the fireplace
branches by branches

from the trees i've nurtured on you

at least i still get warmth for a second
a milli if i could tell
at least i still get warmth

and i asked
and i asked you
for once
you said
you put effort on your tree
you cared too much for me
you've watered it down
with sweet sweat with sour tears
for me

but i still smell me on your fire
mahogany vanilla, fresh autumn
orangish purple, i could visioned

and i asked
and i asked you
million times
all you said was
it was your tree
your ******* tree
your tree that you couldn't named of
what was the wood what was the fruit
what was it? you didn't know

i extinguished flame you engulfed
that only affected on us
your option was go and go away
some i couldnt choose
i let myself stranded in your tiny little miniature
of towns you've built over my anxiety
by words youve trashed down
on my feelings
if i stay, i'd soaked my soil with my ***** tempest
if i go, i 'd walked on invisible string gagged and blindfolded

i choose to stay
growing trees on anger
i bow down
if i stand up
i could see all direction
and i could see you watering down
your tree on your person
such a gardener you are
I don't believe you when you say
that your hands are tied.

I don't believe you when you say
that your hands don't have holes in them.

That the sand doesn't slowly pour out through the cracks between your fingers.


𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯...

when you asked me
to hand you my soul,

that the depths of its love,
your hands, 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱.


▪︎ mica light ▪︎
neth jones Jan 15
clue time   game of bluff-man blind   fuss of obstacles scold up my mind -(the-vermin-are-quite-rife) / portrait, ambitious portrait   racing a train - broadsword toward - a fertile pocket of prissy death ;/ crown, fist and sprawl in the court of The Charmers   sole hissy-fit upon your knees
had the song This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us by Sparks stuck in my head when i wrote this and two other shorts
neth jones Dec 2023
(who blew the bulb ?) everywhere is bright    ever­ything is eyes   can't see you    in your mirror-mail-shard suit    i'm blinded  /  bladed  /  paraded to the roots / hear this chime ? /  this overwhelming chime / it's in all the things but    has predatory gut / it’s not vital  /  it’s hurt  /  spumming out allure    evident byproduct    you've stuffed it all down    clutted all the drains    of your fawning audience   burning hair   compounded the body    with capillary blain  / majesty,   your maj-jest-tea ;   it’s dishonesty ; you are what you are but you don't want to be-(you're not pleased) get you down from there sire ( if-you-please )  and grow an honest hovel / everything’s on discount    mo­ther-******* discount    it's a travesty    you are a misery (dismount) you were far from what you harm    now you keep it close    you snake just like a charmer / you slither you basket  you rascal  piping lewd at the tourist youths / such a hassle / bring on photography   the *******    it's embarrassing   it’s emm-bhar-rass-sing     (who blew the bulb ?)
Was listening to Deceptacon by Le Tigre when I started this one

[[and you'll have me for your tourist night to filthen you foreign /reign of the ***** fun / funding me to make you my ashtray / ****** final / biohazard bag / you haggard rag]]
Jellyfish Oct 2023
When I look at the poems from my past,
Sometimes I smile.
Then I feel mad.
The age I was, becomes so apparent to me.

The younger version of me feels some kind of, well, something.
Each time I take a trip down memory lane
It's hard to not feel something when I remember the pain.

But when I look at the situation today,
After all that I've encountered...
Each stone I've flipped over, and
every waterfall I've checked behind,

I feel so mad at you.

Even the poems we wrote back and forth,
They're so childish, you reference cartoons.
I would have done anything for you,
You plucked me out of my broken world and threw me onto the rift.

I fell asleep at night telling myself stories about an empty apartment with a mattress.
It's so uncomfortable now to look back at.
The fact that you were the hope I had for my future.

It's not okay and I'll never stop thinking this way.
Another poem tonight because I'm mad after looking back
Falling Up Oct 2023
An angry woman

            Is a dangerous woman

Never underestimate the damage she can cause
nick armbrister Aug 2023
Work a forty hour week or more
Five nights a week for pay
Get a bonus if you hit the targets
Drink every two weeks when paid
Till you fall over have more and crawl
Celebration BPO style wage slave job
Dial the ******* customers do as told
Stressed to Hell and back be quiet DIAL!
You wanna work in a call centre?
Go ahead you better be ready
For stress orders drinking and more
Daisy Darling Jul 2023
Did you ever make it to Alaska?
I guess I’ll never be able to ask ya,
But I hope ya got to see the northern lights.
I know it’s what ya always wanted to see.
I know you are out there creating memories of your own without me
In all of my twenty years of life,
I have been many things.

A daughter
A sister
A friend
A lover

But now, I am no longer my father’s little girl.

My father doesn’t talk to me anymore;
He says that I don’t look him in the eyes,
And he is right, but not for the reason he believes

I am afraid to look him in the eyes
Because I don’t want to see myself reflected in them,
Proof of my failure to separate myself from him,
Proof that I am him and always will be him

I do not want to become my father,
Stuck in a marriage with no love left
Or love that is there
Only because it is supposed to be

I do not want to become my father,
Constantly on the verge of tiredness,
And whether that tiredness is directed at
His family or his life, I shall never know

Because I do not want to become my father
All sharp words and angry edges,
Keeping everyone around him on their toes,
Keeping my head on a swivel to not upset him

I do not want to be my father.
I do not want to make my children feel
as though they will never measure up to
Impossible standards, set way too high

I do not want to be my father,
Telling my daughter that she’s eating too much
And not looking at me enough,
Guilt-tripping her into half-hearted apologies,
Said with tears trembling in her eyes

I do not want to be my father.
I do not want my children to be frightened of me,
Dreading the thought of my arrival home
Waiting in fear of my reaction to something they’ve done

I do not want to be my father.
My home will be a gentle home,
Peaceful and quiet,
With no rage-filled shouting matches

I do not want to be my father,
Wondering where he went wrong with his daughter,
That she would stand in front of him, angry tears on her cheeks,
Screaming at him that she wishes that she were dead

I do not want to be my father.
Struggling to catch up with the times,
Grudgingly supportive of the daughter that is different,
The daughter that loves men and women,
But only because he has to be

I do not want to be my father
But I wish that sometimes,
I could be his little girl again,
Back when everything was ok
And it still felt like he loved me

I do not want to be my father,
But sometimes,
It feels as though
I will never be anything more
We love daddy issues
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