Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Brian Ong Aug 2018
Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you  
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.

We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.

Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?
done for class
Jack Jenkins Nov 2018
I used to think I saw life through a cracked lens
Until I saw life looking back with a cracked grin
A wicked smirk
Telling me "If you think you can conquer me,
I have set a curse for every breath you breathe.
I have poisoned every good thing."

So let me ask you this one thing:
If everyone's been through this pain
Why does it seem like nobody can relate?
Everyone says this hurt will heal
Glazed over eyes and halfhearted sympathies don't fly

Lovers are lies with improvised whys
of why they leave you left with a hatred of love
Hate is safer than love these days
It doesn't leave you lost in a maze
Just strays you in a haze of cliches

So tell me what's the point of living when death is our final destination?
Why is it a crime to want to leave the inevitable prematurely?
Why are tears shed for the ones who don't have to endure this "gift" called
//On life//
Broken heart, nihilism, depression, all mixed in with faith and love made this poem possible.
Domenick Oct 2018
I write too often while thinking of you

It's late, everyone's asleep and my confidence is beginning to bate,
it feels like I've been awake for weeks straight, I can't extricate this state of distrait, everything is becoming harder to assimilate and I can barely differentiate reality from the reversed universe that my mind manipulates and creates,
My heart palpitates, my thoughts tumultuate and my lungs refuse to inflate under this weight as I begin to dissociate
What's great about my universe is that you can honestly relate,

Others understand in this mystic fantasy land,
There life isn't so bland, our existence was planned and best of all you and I roam hand in hand obeying your preferred god's demand,

There I'm not terrified that I will die with the afterlife unverified, the answers to my questions are clarified and my smile isn't forced or pried but instead a happiness that's justified,

There I have a perilous quest to distract me from the distress of the universe's careless emptiness, my feelings abide my behest and my mind doesn't remind me of my pointlessness,
Regardless I'd be happy nonetheless if I could leave all the rest just to retain your caress.

"Good times with this guy".
de Negre Oct 2018
in a moment of childish insurrection,
          i folded a coin in half.
using the godly, hulking, still-sitting vice,
          i placed the quarter into its cold palms

with each turn of the rod,
          the coin bent.
it rotated, the crushing iron force,
          the vice had no emotion, only strength

the coin warped, fighting, a steel bone structure
          pushing up against the silent jaws.
i kept turning, changing that reflection of george washington
          into an irregular, uneven, foul little thing.

it had lost its value, the quarter
          going from the 'almost half a dollar' state
into nothing.
          a strange, bent, dismembered corpse

a serial ******, with the body sent to the state
          this coin, bent. it had no value
a few cents in nickel or copper, (at most)
          but it didn't have any value before;

before it lost its sole purpose,
          its existence taken in (george washington's) its eye.
other than the fact that we gave it what it held important
          its 'purpose', its 'value'

so much for that
nihilistic (unlike critical theory) abt a coin i crushed. true story, ooh gory, too boring
Umi May 2018
I will be here through the night,
Until the moon sinks, seeking rest beneath a cool dark shade,
The life which grows from light, is slumbering tight under a wonderful cover, the flowers have closed, awaiting another day,
But I cannot rest, for time has become endless for me, I can't set.
Why is it now that no one will hear my call, reflected in moonlight,
Why is it now that I feel so alive, even though I'm already long dead ?
First days, then months and finally years, pass, fall one by one, only a dim memory remains, what's left is a given; knowledge, of course.
Longing for the meaning of life, the fate was already determined,
Chains which bind me to make me carry on with my mission,
In a distorted dark sound melts into silence, losing it's colour,
Darkness in life and death carried by a curse of greed made me fear the coming day, sunlight, it burns, it hurts, I'll nevr be blessed by it,
The taste of blood on my fangs, sorrowful but also filled with hope, make me remember what it must be like to be a human, to be normal,
Even this scattered instant of a moment possesses unshakable love,
Ablaze, drawn out here in this holy world undear the nightsky,
Unable to advance or return, is there sense to believe in the future?
To face the dark clouds is the golden rule, so I don't give up,
This endless battle always was so meaningless, I forgot how it started,
The meaning of life...even it it remains unknown for me, like you it must exist and is that not very beautiful in its very own way ?
Darling, if I should perish by the morninglight, sing me a lullaby!
A lullaby for a vampire

~ Umi
Umi Apr 2018
Words, conveyed by song,
A white witchery of chering emotions, sadness, may anger or grief, flowing alike a river through ones body once it's been sensed, heard,
Overcoming even time and space, giving the gentle look on your face some sweetness which I cannot describe, drawn in the landscape of my heart, a bittersweet melody unfolds, a flower blooming by night,
"Bury the earths ground in your petals, oh widely blossoming flower"
I thought whilst a breeze rushed through the leafs of nearby trees, making a pleasant noise, yet I cannot be in ease, after all I'm inhuman,
As time ticks on, the orchestra of mother nature develops in a stream of lingering sadness, with a magical touch one that embraces me instantly, locking me into a trance, of pleasure yet also great pain,
Was it my means or my purpose, was it my belief in good and evil ?
With no further hesitation, I swallowed all those meaningless questions and move my gaze up to the clouds in the heavens above,
Human or not, I remain without use for this world, what I realised is,
That I am, Nihilistic

~ Umi
Doruk Jan 2018
It's raining outside.
I'm fading away,
With nihilistic thoughts,
Empty emotions,
Into the darkness I go.

Maybe it's time to quit.
As long as I live,
I will have some hardship.
But why should I worry,
About the thoughts I keep.

"There is always a light"
In this dark abyss there is light,
But only for others to acquire.
So I can't really fight the dark,
It holds me really tight.

All these thoughts,
Drove me to something bigger.
Just sadness I feel,
Nothing else better.
I wanna shout 'help me', but...

It's raining outside.
I wrote this a while ago, when I felt really down. I was in a bus and it was raining outside. A very close friend of mine got on the bus. I decided to tell him about how bad I felt for the last week or so but he approached me first and he said: "Hey, it's raining outside.". That mixed with my feelings that day created this poem.
It's my first.
Originally mine. Translated from Turkish with a little touch to give it a slight rhyme.
I don't believe in fate nor in any kind of grand design,
Because if we got what we deserved then theres no way that you'd be mine.
So I won't call you a godsend nor compare you to an angel,
And though your absence burns I won't say that I'm in hell.

But when I close my eyes I see your face
and girl now my heart it starts to race
at rather an impressive pace
as I think of you in all your grace
I think this is another a case
where my heart is ever giving chase
as it beats out with infinite bass
at the thought of you all clad in lace.

But I'll admit that in your dress,
You display infinite finesse
Far gone are the days of my one true love. But I'll embrace this chance, with my new favourite person
A burnt out bulb,
just hanging there.
No more light to share,
or shadows to shear.
No phoenix moment,
Totally spent.
Next page