Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alexander Oct 2017
The puppeteer can laugh
While he makes his marionette dance.
Little does he know
What it’s like to be strangled in his strings.

We search for meaning in this barren field,
Only to find a mirror pointing us back.
Life is searching for meaning
And not being happy with what you find.

I can count the years I spent in that storm.
I can remember every sleepless night.
I can recall every word which was exchanged.
What I can’t do is… let go.

Forgiveness is something foreign to me.
A refugee trying to inhabit my borders.
It’s my nation,
But it’d be inhumane not to let him in.

Maybe the day will come
When the Sun rises with the Stars
And the Moon brings the morning.
Maybe there will be a time when I can say your name,
Or look you in the eyes again.
Maybe…
BSeuss Jul 2017
Did you know you can trick the brain; even if there is no trick. Simply by tricking it into thinking that it's been tricked.

"I can't believe you drank it"
*spits out water
(Title edited)
(Tags edited)
Pepper Dove Jun 2017
Darkness is here
beneath the canopy
where tiny insects inject
venom with apathy
Swiftly spinning
webs
of solitude
watching you
taunting you
wanting you to intrude
Lingering notions
of spraying potions;
hypnosis
You're helpless
and hopeless
Unconscious
and motionless
Can't you hear the cries?
From the spirits
fallen victim to
all of it's lies,
gripping you with eyes
grinning
at it's winning
of your steady
slow
demise.
Metephorical for all those sneaky spiders in your life, always trying to manipulate you to fall into their webs of deception so they can use you to their benefit and consume your whole being.
Kat May 2017
Nobody falls for you,
you only fall for yourself
Your head stuck on a shelf
Nothing but your ego left to sell

But you couldnt let it go
This hell is already here and melded
Manipulation and consideration-
All a grey shield

Its already been welded.
No space for
Me.
Nelsya Mar 2017
driving through
the vast lane
passing buildings so tall
they beat the skies
and corrupt the night space

mind wandering
through the empty streets
seeing streetlights and neon signs
tricking humans
into awing them
instead of the stars

also manipulated
by the wind
and midnight dreams
caressing each mankind
lulling into a good night fantasy
to abandon the complexities
of the relentless reality
iamtheavatar Aug 2016
This poem is my presence,
In a world devoid of its quintessence

It needs not know my name,
'Cause I ain't looking for fame

I ain't looking for love,
Already got it from above

I ain't looking for gold,
'Cause ****'s free when I'm old

Neither am I looking for recognition,
'Cause I have my own mission

One's losing is another's winning,
But this oblivious planet
just keeps spinning

Why pursue something that fades,
But ignore the crisis that pervades?

We're living in a world full of baits,
Constantly making us salivate,
Towards the things that manipulate

The brittle but
truth immaculate,

Where dialectics and debates
Flourish and permeate,
But situations only exacerbate

Love now, 'til it's too late

**iamthe_avatar ©2016
A call to love.
Holey Jun 2016
I can be this love in your heart.
I can be this..this disease that crowds your memory.
I can be the one thing that clouds you're judgement and ruins your life.
I can learn every little thing about you a manipulate you into submission.
I can be whatever I choose to be to change you into the perfect love.
I rolled out another one.
While we are all just atom snowmen,
sometimes I have to be
the arsonist of your emotions.
To make the atomic bits, flick out, vibrate
in order to light this ether atmosphere,
see what you really are,
to give me that warm feeling inside.

Sometimes I have to be
the stone that breaks your window.
The irreversible souring your view,
of your perfect, affectionate, color.
I take a breath of your summer field
and forests and farms  
and exhale it as winter, deadwood and cold air,
your horses all un-made,
into glue, cat food, and violin bows.

Sometimes I have to be
A spiked cocktail.
Sipped on in words
finding again better, that familiar sweetness
but finding yourself, not yourself, anymore.
All just because you left your love wanting
alone on the side of a bar
and I found it.  

Sometimes I have to be
that step you don’t expect at night.
Of course I’ll act like an accident,
letting the idea slip through
a gas leak flooding the room
silently, imperceptibly, changing things,
I’m good enough you will never know it,
and it’s you who’ll spark it.

Sometimes I have to be
father of the utilized disease.
A cough gives it birth,
a bark and a hack makes it airborne
incorporates a bacteria culture into yours.
This DNA affixed of word nucleotides,
embedded in the head of a virus
which will, just sometimes, exponentially, continually,
manipulate.
Next page