Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Beckie Davies Apr 24
Don't call me Rebecca
We don't have to be so formal

Don't call me Rebecca
As though we are doing business

Don't call me Rebecca
As though we are strangers

Don't call me Rebecca
I'm losing my patience

Don't call me Rebecca
What ever happened to friendliness?

Don't call me Rebecca
We don't need to be so proper

I want to be mates
So let's start again

Don't call me Rebecca
Beckie is my name
don't call me Rebecca
Laokos Mar 14
heather is a feminine body
in a suede chair under charcoal ceilings

perry is wearing
sweaters to evening dinners

katie is a black light poster
in newspaper print

alex is an origami sailboat

spoon feed yourself some more cathleen,
the cats are waiting
J Dec 2020
sometimes
though I suppose I should say often
taking into consideration that
I cannot go a single day without
feeling this way
but once again that won't accurately describe
because this issue that I'm having
is not feeling anything
so let's say
experiencing this.
I cannot go a day without
knowing this exists
which is funny really because
I'm not really sure i exist
Which sounds funny
or maybe absurd
but I get to this awful point at night
when I'm alone, see, I think being alone is the trigger
where my vision is blurry
and clear
and I rock yet I don't move
am I typing?
or am I watching someone else type
or am I imagining someone else type
thinking
hoping
wishing
I too were alive
what
where
who
am I?
I'll listen to songs on repeat
I'll sway and
tune in and out
of the mood to sob
or to dance and scream
or to freeze, and be nothing
except whatever I am
or am not.
the air
grips my arms
or whoever owns these arms
and goosebumps are left in the ghost's wake
ROXANNE
you don't have to put on the red light
ROXANNE
you don't have to put on the red light
ROXANNE!
YOU DONT HAVE TO PUT ON THE RED LIGHT
ROXANNE!!
you
Don't
have
to
put
on
the
red­
light
ROXANNE
Ro
this is the song that I've been listening to for the past
well who even knows
I want to say hours
but the concept of time leaps around me carelessly.
I like the music, I like the sound of his voice
I like how it brings back childhood memories of singing it in my mother's car
though I only knew how to sing "Roxanne"
and honestly as long as I said it every other word
I was doing pretty good.
and
yeah
maybe it has something to do with me
something deep about who I was
and who I am now
comparing the differences
talking about what I'm mean to be, who knows.
it just
feels right
to listen to right now.
I'll get tired of it eventually.
i don't have the mindset to really be able to
explain why I love this so much.
I used to want something unique for my children
or at least something uniquely spelled
I wanted their future teachers to look at their names and say
"what the **** is this."
maybe it would single them out
but they'd be something entirely new, wouldn't they?
one of my best friends is having a baby girl
my friend and her husband are naming her Honor.
I used to want to name my girl
Hasel
like Hazel, but with an "S"
But I'm sure I'll use that name for ferrets
Haesel and Baesel
now I'm thinking I like the letter "R"
my biological dad won't like it
we all have to start with the letter J for him
maybe they'll have my last name
maybe that will be enough for him
so now I'm thinking
I want to name two of my children
Roxanne
Rhiannon
but I'll change the spelling
it just feels real pretty right now.
or maybe Jolene.
Sydney likes
Nala and Lydia
Nala Roxanne Collins for Sydney's last name(or Scott for mine)
Lydia Rhiannon Collins(or Scott)
or something along those lines.
those sound real pretty actually.
Am I typing still?
who am I?
i wish I could just go a day
without wanting to **** myself or
god
I'm so tired of feeling sad.
I'm thinking that this is sad
or numb
or somewhere in the middle.
I'm just
in and out right now
i think this hurts.
but I'm trying.
the existence of you should not strike fear into my still, beating heart
for you are not a product of the sins your brother's ****** hands carved,
yet, i cannot help, but recall the touch you and i miss, forced over my body and my mind, with the reminder of his suicide,
when i see your name;

and it may be that you feel his loss, once again,
or wish to forget how you solemnly shared with me,
in the halls where we cried until we were emptier,
and the edges of reality blurred into our tears,
with our shallow, shaky breaths,
that i was his closest confidant
when you see mine.
a secret letter
to the sister
of my late, best friend
who shared the title of my abuser

[ p.s: i'm sorry i struggle to keep in touch ]
annh Nov 2020

СНЕГІЅН
what you have;
the sticks and the stones,
the brittle bones and the names
you call yourself out of disappointment,
frustration and contempt. СНЕГІЅН it all; the
rituals and the struggles, the battles lost and won.
Eventually, those positions held so uncompromisingly
will be surrendered, by choice or by chance, to the
nothingness from whence
they came.
W
H
E
T
H
E
|          |          |          |          |  ­        Г          |          |          |          |          |
you are at one or at odds with yourself, whether you like it or not, they are a part of what has made you who you are - informed your choices, shaped your present. Return them to the bedrock of the earth, the ether, or the ocean, if you will; but do so with grace, fond remembrance, and a care for that which lives on within you.

‘I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become
a child again and begin anew.’
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
Traci Sims Aug 2020
Hope--despaired.
Constance--cheated.
Faith--no longer believes.
Charity--is stingy.
Prudence--is reckless.
Patience--isn't.

And Genevieve--
Has no business being in this poem.
Dada!
Shannon Oct 2020
I came across an odd little town,
with odd names for odd people,
and I wanted to show you, so I wrote them down.

Destiny doesn't believe in fate,
Hazel hates green and brown,
Hope's always in a negative state.

Ocean's afraid of the water,
Ivy has no league,
Clay hates every potter.

Pepper hates every spice,
Magenta hates pink,
Candy isn't sweet or nice.

Chase is very slow,
Journey hates exploring,
Cash's money is low.

Charity is very selfish,
Marshall never follows the law,
Sincere's stories always embellish.

Faith doesn't trust no one,
Melody cant carry a tune,
Victor has never won.

Ginger never snaps,
Patience can hardly sit still,
Scout always falls into traps.

Honesty always lies,
Spring never jumps,
Hunter can't even hurt flies.

Justice isn't fair,
Teddy is afraid of bears,
Sky hates flying in the air.

Joy is always sad,
Robin could never steal,
Jubilee is always mad.

Lily hates all the flowers,
Violet hates purple,
Aqua never showers.

Mary doesn't want a wedding,
Winter hates the snow,
Misty hates a foggy setting.

Peace always starts the fights,
Sandy hates the beach
Sunny only comes out during nights.

Promise never keeps her word,
Star hates the night.
Raven hates every bird.

Reign hates royalty,
Scarlet hates red.
Trinity hates the number three.

So what is in a name,
if you can't act like it means,
are you really to blame.
If your name is up there, don't be offended, i just thought, how funny would it be if you were named something that is your exact opposite.
wc before edit 193
wc after edit 235
Bhill Oct 2020
the cowboy slowly enters town riding high on his horse
the town had no name, he just knew he would find what he was after
townsfolk seemed to stop in time and stare at his rugged face
the desert had stolen his youth and good looks
he was a renegade cowboy looking for what seemed, a friendly face
not sure this town had such a person
this town was not real
this town was a ghost
these folks were in the wind waiting for departure into the next
he had found Middletown
was he real, was his horse real, where is he
he thought he knew

Brian Hill - 2020 # 281
Chad Young Sep 2020
O to be prejudice between the visible
and invisible Baha'u'llah.
When moving out of nature becomes moving by the Will.
Therefore, divinity becomes a shuffling of
the attention away from all things, words, senses,
forms, and starts to receive instructions from
the personages that visit me.
She stared at me as if I was the sole
expression of her day,
tossed the blouse covering her beauty.
Her waist was perfect and made
mine perfect while sitting.
She caught sight of Baha'u'llah,
and her spirit dispersed.
Angels of Prophets parted ways,
by means of Names.
He unfolds a general saying
to tell me of His hidden power.
That woman, Rey, of the Force
looks at me with tears in her eyes.
Baha'u'llah always leaves me
to have no sign or description
of the divine.
He came and left, and though seen and felt, left no remaining
evidence
of His
Self.
Next page