Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JA Perkins Sep 23
.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, listen quietly
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
And me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen.
Hurt people hurt people
Di Verce Sep 19
It's your problem when you disregard God's voice, not mine.

No matter how you "perceive" it, the reality of the state of those suffering whom you callously disregard, saying "all is well" in your unloving indifference, remains unchanged.
Kai Sep 5
you are not a narcissist
if you love yourself                                      
so take care of you                                      
and breath deeply
Take care of yourselves out there, it's okay. Someone is always out there for you and life gets better.
m h John Aug 14
you locked me in
a state of mind
where i could no longer move
as if i were a child in the womb
who does not have room to grow

a state of mind
where i forgot how to breathe
unless you were there holding
the oxygen mask over my face

a state of mind
where i felt as if i were
a rose petal surrounded by thorns
but you were always there
reminding me of how fragile i am
by pulling me apart
one by one
do you like to worship yourself
better than worshiping anyone else?
do you look at any glass
except the ones that show yourself?

haven't you heard?
the towers have fallen!
haven't you heard
That towers can fall?

and then, just when
I thought I had seen it all...

i found myself sitting in a different
  it looked like a palace
                         but it was a tomb
  like a bleeding, barren womb
  like a child born far too soon
       and it was dark
       and i was scared
       and adults were gathered in a far-off room

and there were things in there with me
that the adults couldn't see
and they were dark and they were small
with the sharpest little teeth

something's been taken!
they tore something out of me
     i knew the moment
     i awoke
     and saw the daylight flee

do you paint pictures of food
to donate to starving children?
do you max out your credit card
to profit off God's business?

the towers
shining like mirrors
we see our reflection
   then all is just shattered
   then all that once mattered
   is a column of smoke in the wind
        and angels descend
        from mansions pretend
        to caverns below
        where old Titans stow
     awaiting the day
      that Chaos will arrive
      their savior
and swallow Earth and its deepest recesses
and them along with it all
   and Vishnu sleeps
   on the endless serpent
Written ca. 2011
Jordan Hudson Jul 25
Steps I took
Dreams I could
Seek and achieve
I believe
You can
Be thrilled
Watch and see
Let's see
Be free
From poor to rich
Pulled from a ditch
Up to the sky
From getting by
To ruling lives
I rise
Up above
So high
Legendary grave
For when I die
Dedicated day
For my life
Narcissistic cry
Of joy
I enjoy
The fact I can be
Anything I think
A plaque for me
A statue in a town
I look down
On a crowd
Bow down
My people
A steeple
With my face
Bow down and pray
Born this way
A higher being
I am freeing
Myself with words
Because I hurt
I feel like no one
But I am a king
In my brain
You're a stain
Then I came
I am back and I'll reign
I will tame
The peasants
I have fame
You no name
Narcissistic brain
Yes I have my ways
And through the days
I hurt them they my prey
As I say things that harm
I farm more ideas in their head
And embed them till they dead
Corruption will take their brains
These fools are stains
They all die of their own pain
They will be tamed
Narcissistic brain
They will know my name
I feed off of my own fame
Life is just a game
Death and life are the same
Shooting for goals I aim
Knocking you out of my way
I will stay and play
Until I am bored with you
What will I do?
Destroy you
So rude
Will not move
Look at you
This is how I think
No but they all say
I think
I say
They all think
They all say I think
Ugh help me please
On my knees
I wanna be free
I plead
Please just see
I think
Not do but you
Say I think
See it ugh
I give up
What is this
In my head
I wish
I wish I was dead
Sometimes can't lie
But idk in my brain ok
I say they think
They think because I say
Its a chain in my brain
I'm a stain that hides pain
Loves his name but looks the same
Loves fame full of shame
And claims he is targeted
But he is just paranoid
Of judgement
Of fear
Producing tears in his own eyes
He can't lie but hides
Wants to die sometimes
Can't fully cry
Yet no one knows why
m h John Jun 16
a father is suppose to be a child’s first
and mentor
however for me my father was my first
and the monster that hid under my bed
with a bottle to keep him company
happy father’s day to all the people who have  a dad like this, they have only made us stronger
A Lazarus body litters the sidewalk
outside a well-lit, desolate lobby.

On the left is a mexican restaurant,
with a line reaching to the
entrance. They should stamp
the grey and scratched up
plexiglass with a light and
dark purple neon:
Welcome To America.
It would be reinforced
by every delicious crunch
one hears on the way out as
cheap crumbs garnish concrete.

On the right, there’s a bar
alive on a Friday night.
Friends share hearty laughs
and pats on the back.
The bitter and the perishing
pretend they want this
when they should be
somewhere or someone else.
And mingling singles look for
compliments and numbers,
or maybe just someone to
take back and **** the **** out of.

But in the midst sits
a throne for ghosts.
Ceiling fluorescent reflects
off porcelain, paler than a farmer tan.
There are no other colors besides
the receptionist, bored to death,
leaning on the wall behind
the porcelain reception desk,
reading a copy of Ebony.
No ottomans or chesterfields
or benches. No consoles or cocktail
tables. Nothing adorning the walls.
Not even a stain.
Just a white hole, a bright
***** in an otherwise colorful
street on gray canvas.

I rise from my slumber
and mosey on out the lobby
in my purple linen suit.
The impoverished scrag,
his dog lapping his sores, asks
if I’d spare some change.

“Sorry, I only have card tonight.”

“That’s alright, sir. God bless.”

And I walk on, aware of the
Abrahams rubbing up against
a ****** in my wallet. I take a sip
of whiskey hidden in my empty
can of a drink that can never
satiate me. I wait for traffic to pass,
and then I jaywalk across Sticks St.

by Aleksander Mielnikow
Luke 16:19-31
Next page