Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cherish the Seas May 2015
Lately,
I have been looking for an escape
I've already came this far
but not so far where its too late
to turn back or switch lanes

I'm not sure whether I should signal
or push brake
If I change my mind would I be forsaking my faith?
Why do I want to run away ?

It was my initial choice
This road I chose
With everyone standing on the sidewalks
smiling at me , cheering me on
I'm starting to feel like I'm in a corner
and I don't want to be here anymore

I'm tired of hearing
"you're going to be a great doctor"
"keep pushing you'll soon get there doc"
"great you've made it into medical school"
The word doctor weighs down on me
Smothering me and I cant tell whether its what I want anymore
I wish someone could help me
I keep praying but there's this static thats not going away

Is it because people are starting to believe in me
Even when society pleaded with me to abandon my dream
never wanting me to rise beyond this world's hierarchy
My state is like a gas
as I'm being pressured
they're placing a lid on my dreams and I'm ready to explode
K.***
PoETE Poet-Pete May 2015
Have to cut thru this final stage
Minute after minte, I express my rage,
I can not give up to any extent
The grave to me, is not yet meant.
Whether on your last chance or one leg don't let life take you under.


All
Content
Written by
PoETEPETE
{2000 ~~ 2015}
~©~ Protected & never neglected.
Nebek Wormer Apr 2015
creaking house

my mind cant escape the noise

creak

havent blinked in an hour

creak
creak

skin shivering

creak
creak

been up for a week

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeak

ghostly vision
making the incision
possession of being
what have i become

creak
creak
creak
creak
CreeeeeeeeeeeeaaKKKKK
Creeeeeeeee­eeeaaKKKKK
CREEEEEEEEEEEAAAKKKKKKK
CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAKKKK
CREEE­EEEEEEEAAAAAKKKKK
CCCRRRRRRREEEEEEEAAAAAKKKKK
.
.
.
.
slipping from reality
ego fatality
falling through my physical being
falling through my physical being
when was the last time i dreamt
a call ive sent
no contact with the outside world
my life has transformed into an oyster with no pearl

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAKK
CREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAKKKK
CCCRRRRRE­EEEAAAAKKKKK
CCCRRRRREEEEAAAAKKKK

AND THAT ******* NOISE I CANT ESCAPE
SHATTERING MY BEING
EAR ****
DRUM PUNCTURED
IDLE HANDS TARE AWAY THE FLESH
I FEEL THE PAIN
IM NOT THE SAME
I LOVE THE PAIN
I LOVE THE PAIN
I FEEEL THE PAIN....

AND SUDDENLY IM TAKEN BACK TO THE orchid

where i used to lay...
.
far away...
.
Happy
Flow
Somewhere in the depths of my mind
A lunatic resides
DAVID Mar 2015
my everlasting eyes,
shine, at the sight,
of you, and your eyes,
deep as the sea,

mi everlasting soul,
bares a curse, heavy
and strong, the shine of
those eyes, in a time,
give the broken heart hope,

the chance was given, and
not accepted, now is all over,
almost lose my freedom, the pedofile's
cousin, and your corrupted and
lying **** up world, disgust me.

the backwards world,
and the loss of freedom,
was the end, of it, you lose
me, now you know, what
you want.

finding, what you lost,
is a chance, but find it in
someones elses eyes.

my everlasting heart, can't died,
but, suffers like a human heart,
the zen monk in me, is out
of your lying world, out of my life,

never a friend, or a lover, just
a lying world sended,
trying to con me, not interested
in a crying game,
je sui templer, mon chere.

truth is part of me,
she is my faith, mine,
and the world's renaissance,

the sacred ancestor,
of some of my family,
your world,
the transginger world,
girls on ties,
playing dodgeball,

burning templars
like if i could be burn,
or destroyed,
i shot my head after 22 years,
of pain and deceit,
not even i, could **** myself,
you putts

and maybe in some way ,
i could love you.
and still miss you,
but not a gay boy mate,

so keep the gay boys,
and carrie on, find some truth,
in your life, truth is more,
than the ****, is a state of mind.

is the sacred moto, on the heart of a lion.
keep the chu chu train, the give and take crap,
and be free, and out of my life.
after all, i'm too sweet for a tv girl.

my soul is everything,
don't know if you even have it,
or lost it, for being there, but c'est fini
mon cheri, c'est fini, je sui templer,
even science is templar, under the new
brake truths.

so, all is forgiven,
even the pato yañez, even the lies,
i can see you love me ,i know,
but sometimes, we lost what
we don't know we want.

cause, after all the lies,
after all those gay boys,
still you want, a man in your life
all is over, and keep the faith
relax and be free, away from me.

no favors, from this,
old everlasting soul, maybe i
could find some love, know what you want
alive and kicking, and ready, for it all.

nothing to say, if you have something to say,
say it to my face, and vaya con dios,
away this everlasting ship, has sail.

from the other side of the world,
i say, keep those friend's of you,
and stay, the **** away from me.

and make it count,
i can see your end mate,
alone and wrinkled,
and bitter to the bone,
like the wife of the creep,
the male dog on a wig.

my everlasting heart, is ready
for some truth, after all the lies, of
your creepy, world of WANKERS,
NEVER MIND THE *******,
SOME OLD FRIEND SAY,

my heart is  healthy,
and operative,
this everlasting heart, and this
everlasting soul, is gone,
from your beautiful, but deceiving eyes,

maybe some sweet sweet barbie ,
with a mind and soul, and a heart,
or some bellissima, or even
that **** and sweet clown.

farewell,mi bitter sweetness,
keep the one, who think is me,
that crazy transginger, whose
fatal attraction,made a titanic,
of the droit ship,

they are out of my life,
and with them are you,
out of me.

you lose me, at pato yañez.
you and all your gay boys.
this heart is deep and black,
and ready for use.

can't help, but not look at you anymore
listen avientame, by cafe tacuba,
the urban myth wrote that,
but he's not writing no more,
no calls and no favors, for the one
trying to save a creep, ask paula ***** for help,
or the little ****, no wait, they are inside me,

after the rapes and the harassment,
trying to save, what they destroy,
but keep on rapping, that is out
of my life.
and you are proud of defending a child molester

vaya con dios.
lose me , can't be with you, adios.
S Mar 2015
what do we all really want? do we know? is it the unknown? is it familiar to strangers or loved ones and just unbeknownst to us?
an odd thought...well not really but you know
I hold myself in my own self proclaimed aura of power by holding my secrets close to my heart and letting others know, that i know, just exactly what i want. I mean i'm sure that's what we associate with power, right? who wants or even needs someone who has no singular recollection of controlling what the mind sporadically desires. I know what i want but that cancels itself out and leaves me thinking in a disjointed manner, just what do i want? and stemming off that, why? and stemming off that how? and stemming off that, does this ever stop?
careful calculation, artistic determination, a 'so called' higher thought process, and lastly, an urge or a will. the ingredients to creation,success and maybe self fulfillment are so substandard, the faux, as I once lovingly called it. The faux, a careful concealment and fluorescent indicator to all around us. It's absolute ******* but so much fun
genia Mar 2015
It's that heart-clenching feeling when you want something so badly.
It's the ache you feel right down to your bones when you feel a part of you is missing.
(how could you miss arms you've never felt?)
The pain, the longing just has a way of eating you from the inside out, until all that's left is a hollow body.
Just a living being wanting, wanting to feel that semblance of warmth, of love.
i saw a picture today which made me feel just like that. i miss her. i wish we could grow closer. i can't wait to find love.
heatherlyheather Mar 2015
I hate feet, but shoes are stupid.
You look so sweet, but your heart is broken.
Get your life together,
That's what they tell you.
Get your life together,
That's what they say.

Trying to make ends meet,
While staying simple.
Paper or plastic?
They never ask anymore.
And what ever happened to
Face-to-face communication?
Maybe I'm too strange for it all.

I just want to do what I want.
Stop telling me what's right and what's wrong.
Sometimes I like pasta for breakfast.
Lunch tastes so good in the morning,
Don't you think?
Eugene Melnyk Mar 2015
I spend all my time,
All my money,
And most of my remaining sanity
To stack together this perfect house.

Little pieces all fit together perfectly,
But there are thousands.
It feels like I could never, ever
Count that high.

I strain to hold it together.
I didn't think to get glue.
I'm about 1/4 of the way trough.

These matches break so easily.
I start to think I litarally brought the ******* matches available.
One wall falls.

I want to shout as loud as I can.
But I imagine what the finished product would be.
I'd probably have your name in books.
Multiple ******* books.

I rebuild the wall.
I push on, I don't stop until night fall.
I'm about half way through.

I take a cigarette break.
I look back on the hours.
I mainly remember the ****** parts.

A few cigarettes later I push on once more.
I build until late morning.
At this point I'm are about three quarters of the way there.

I again take a break,
Only this time to stay in what I have built, but not continue to build it.
I think back.

Why am I making this house of matches.

Why am I even here?

I remember your vision of the house.
I see you still have hours of work,
Easily stretching till dinner time.

The question is do I finish and stay at the house, or do I go home to make a nice meal for myself?

I went home.

When I came back the house was burnt away.
A frail, blackened frame remain.
No amount of good duct taping could fix it.
No amount of new matches could clean it up.

I still see the ash pile in my mind from time to time.

Next,
I tried a house made of fuses.
Do poems need to rhyme.
kt mccurdy Feb 2015
another morning
when you search
later when things fall
they always will
stretch out to
each day, a phenomenon  of
order and disorder but no,
what’s between?
bodies, fall the same way
each time
eyelashes too on the same place,
same spot on the face
feeding into it when that’s what
it wants what it wants is
for eyelashes to
keeping fall and wishes run thinning
since wishes unwork and unwind
and the same lashes
the same wishes
but chaos theory
avoids time
structure, we preside in
P.M.and A.M.
wall to wall
skin and soot on bottom’s heels and ears
and bodies, all the same,
aren’t they?
structure is
unavoidable
chaos theory is without
option
struvture without option
without sound but loud in consequence
its the same
for those like us
burying eyelashed face in
numbers and now-- words
always buried beneath something,
layers of clothing
or layers of pillows
across the belly
until straight enough to sit without
rolls
but rolls of breads, succulent and sweet
and rolls like child’s somersaults
and roles that you play for everyone
and yourself
when layers collapsed within
the walls of intestines
which erode
and the role is you
standing without
rolls and without much else, either
and skin cannot renew
skin cannot replace
you can try for ceramic skin
but thin is breakable,
cracking the hull
of the *****’s boat, the same
***** bandaging what you want to wound  
its structure for bodies
you and you and
the best friend you ever had
with freckles you cannot count
and a gummy smile,
structured the same and
what language do you speak in?
because
              wrapping            
your tongue       around
organs isn’t the same
speech
but the spaces between teeth is not enough
to contain what’s oozing in
the edge of a back,
the corner of a ankle’s ***
whatever it is,
is structured
Next page