Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tia Jul 2020
I neither want to live nor die
And I don't want to lie
That **** scares me out
Knowing that I should be feeling either one

Have you ever felt that you don't care?
Not about the others but yourself
It's like you're just letting the water flow
Not minding if it leads you to a bay or your downfall

I feel quiet a bit adventurous
But I know these are dangerous
One wrong step would destroy me
in absolute pieces that you cannot count it

If it happens, it's okay I guess
I guess I just had to deal with the consequences
But is there even anything to fear?
I didn't even chose to live nor die, I just choose neither.
NewCaleBoy Feb 2019
am a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding skin cells and lead from the no. 2 pencil in my saliva

am **** and blood, skin and hair, all come-go, return re-tuned,
at their own chosen speed, gen of regeneration

am cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon's decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle

you may kiss me with all your heart into a robust welcoming,
scorn me with spittle and deem unfit, I know the difference
and it is inconsequential

am, see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old birthday balloon, or an abbreviated haiku, that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing

think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of your
nippled forefinger,  but my powers are unlisted, therefore unlimited

for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensulating, such as
the temperature of your breath, the many disparate odors of you,
the curve of your eyes, the wetness of moist places

inputs that bear emergent newborn children notions in my
chested cavernous gas chambers, the bellum bellies of my brain

my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight ~ dawn when from wells,
the visions, the fluids and the words are drawn

the residuals of a man's ******* between
other humans, akin, and the thriving discourse between
man and gods of invisible powers,  
that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the coded human DNA,
we exchange in silence from need,
to translate ourselves
to each other
Lana Eve Dec 2017
And, what the **** did you expect of me?
I'm sorry.
Pardon my french...
I can't help but cuss, when these mother ******* got me pressed
Ill be fine after this commerical break,
But until then,
Let me lay your facts straight.

Need I not remind you,
It was our first date
the moment I said I was obsessed with love
I heard your chest scream
Your eyes spoke of forever
Your sternoclaydo mastodon pulsated
Like orange juice after a blood drive...

***** I revitalized you.
I think you got the  script wrong
Wipe ur frames down,
I'll put this very slowly, now
Your love for me burned so hot, it was no longer a fire, but wild.
You smothered me.
You wanted to watch my flames dance,
But only under your command

My love is rotten?
When out of the two of us, you just wanted me to yourself?
Your own insecurities is what made your inferiority become true,
maybe that's why your eyes burn,

You never accepted who I was.
My spirit knows no bounds.
Your spirit, wasn't fast enough.

you bowed out.

You ignorant *******, you did not know a **** thing of me
I guess I'm mad, I thought you did

Pure love is not of possession,
Instead, to be greatful for every cent spent
My presence is a luxury,
Did I make you feel inferior?
To feel as though you almost could afford it?

****! Right! One last thought, before I go.

Women are mother Earth incarnate
Chaotic creatures,
Who never seem to lose.

Do you think you're upset,
because deep down,
you knew, you bite off more than you could chew?
Josh Sep 2017
I'm on the train again.
Stopped at Manchester Airport
I am presented with an excellent opportunity to check out a flight attendant standing by the doors.
Her uniform is block red.
Of mice and men, it's the boys
Who ogle, cats soon to be fed.
And I did always think there was something sinister about cats
Their sly eyes and how they yawn
How they pretend to sleep long past dawn but have been slinking and thinking and stinking and
The blood of mice
and men reward their pet's **** with a stroke of their ego by their ego.
"It's human nature" to hunt for rich, red reward you say
"It's part of being a man"
I'll say human nature can,
No, should, change,
And I avert my gaze with shame.
Read it to the end or you'll think I'm a pompous *******, and if you read it to the end and still think I'm a pompous ******* then I probably am
Colm Sep 2016
I am neither of them nor above them.
Though I do stand here looking out.

I am separate.
I am me.
As much as you can ever be you,
And I have ever been me.

For it is in this place where we become we.
The investors,
The collectors,
And the testing who test the testers.

We are us and they are them.
And yet the youth of today and tomorrow so rarely see,
That the educated and the un are all the same,
Just like you and me.

We all are people,
And to each his or her own.
We each try and find our own way to flee from it all,
Above it all.

Outward and upward.
In such a world,
And in such words as you will find here,
Is where you will always find someone like me.

Neither of nor above.
Yet ever present,
Always yearning to be free.
Maybe one day....
Äŧül Apr 2016
Trust me when I say that I would give them both to you,
So what if you would break them both kiddo.
Because that is what you did because you knew that only,
No problem with that either because I let you go.
Friends & family all so long ago warned me about this fate,
So you need not worry as I was ready to see you go.
I take all the blame because I was the one searching for a mate.
My HP Poem #1057
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Jan 2016
People consider me atheist,
But I am agnostic deep inside,
I recognize an unearthly power,
One that works at unearthly hour.
My HP Poem #985
©Atul Kaushal
Next page