Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bea Aug 2020
My scarfaced TSA prince
I see you on imvu and
I just want you
Loving
As we talk my
Body aches for you
My heart aches for when we can work
Together
And be together
I pine for your presence
Your love
And touch
daffodil Aug 2020
pigeon coo’s echo outside the window
relentless repetition please stop,
grey skies, lacklustre rain
drip drop drips from the sky
like a tap not turned tight
enough

the kettle is screaming at me
fogs up the window
desperate, don’t look out there,
the forbidden fruit, sacred outdoors
sterilised sanitised inside, free me,
I long to ***** my feet

how can the world keep on turning
when we are all so still
does the passing of time matter
during this vast nothingness?

a cup of tea to calm my nerves
hot liquid chases down the fear
bubbling up in my throat but
it just crawls back, and settles
so quiet becomes the house
eternally occupied, no respite

heavier now, thankful for the sound
drowning out the silence, rain
like the white noise, grateful
the sound of breath has become
too much, all of us in mute,
in sound, in colour, in all
n-khrennikov Jun 2020
Poets and writers are stricken with poverty.
Modernism is all about the profits.
I’ve sold my soul and blood
And still my name remains unmentioned.
H.хренников
kiran goswami May 2020
I posted a picture on the internet today,
after handpicking the best of all.
While she is left with no choices,
so she walks on the roads that burn
carrying herself upon her feet that bleed.

I took my camera and checked up the lighting,
as I wanted the picture to look 'natural' and 'candid'.
A cameraman rushes to her to click a picture
as he is a magazine photographer searching for stories real.

I sweated and protested about the scorching heat
while I set up my camera.
She wipes the sweat off her father's forehead
on which the glabellar lines cease to exist,
while hers is carrying the roots and branches of it.

I held books in my hand to strike a pose
as my fingers laid in front,
whose nails I painted yellow for this summer.
She holds the handlebars of her bicycle she can no more hold or paddle,
her nails have painted themselves with the colour of mud.

I clicked too many pictures for me to count or recall.
Even after thousands, she remembered how many miles is home.


I captioned my picture
'No more lonely quarantine',
She hardly knows alphabets or words to even ask for help.

I swiped from filter to filter
selecting an 'aesthetic' one.
She drinks the pitch-black liquid,
they tell her is water,
without even demanding for 'cleaner' one.

I finally edited and made a perfect picture,
with my wide grin sealed with a gloss,
And the cameraman too asks for her to smile for once.
She with her deserted lips forms a curve that makes the cameraman frown.

He deletes the picture from his camera
as it would be disliked by all,
It got 1.9k likes,
The picture I posted on the internet today.
Ylzm May 2020
A post truth world:
     truth's a construction,
     witnesses manufactured,
     facts designed with intent;

Any lie is for sale,
     as it pleases the powers
     and brings in the money;

But your choice is your freedom:
     you believe
     what you want to believe;

Truth
     is your construction too:
     without power, without money
     but via the accessible
           social engine of truth manufacture
     many witnesses shall rise
           and believe in you too.
It was the time when clock was ticking exactly 12.
The stars started fading and sky covered itself with clouds.
A little boy opened the door hearing the rain, the soil was wet and it had the fragrance of freshness in it.
The mesmerizing sound of droplets amazed him.
He smiled and wished facing the sky, the one wanted to be a pilot , so
that could do a hifi to the clouds, but the illness he was bound to would never let his wish to be fulfilled which he knew .
He stepped in the rain  and it rained, just rained
Kenshō Nov 2019
Twenty thousand steps
winding to the left.
'Cause right was wrong
and wrong was right.
At the end of the road
there was nothing left
so I bent a right.
I love you so much,
but share a night,
          alone;
Something I know so well,
Better than I know you.
But, I worry you've not known
'cause I've gone and well-
I'm worried the message
I've written won't tell.
I'm tired of 'the' shell-
So, I break boundaries and yell.
A life you didn't make
but a life you are willing to take?

no rules-no mistakes

no words
Just Motions
no mind
no world
Just Devotion
somewhere
somehow
Odd(old) Notions
something
sometimes
Magick Potions
no tide
no wave
Just Ocean
nobody
no soul
Just Emotions
no face
no image
God is Remoting


Thrice fold bent,
    one arrow gleaming-
from which we are sent
    all is one
          or at least seeming.
God must be asleep,
          yes, dreaming.
Side road tent,
    plastic tarp teeming-
Come one come all!
    Torii gate beaming~
Some rise some fall,
    Krishna consciousness streaming-
Ten Thousand beings enthralled,
    now just for the meaning...

I'm going under cover
where all vibration is a hum.
And where I tend to hover,
I lose track of where Im from;
Or what direction I'm going,
But, I am indeed in contact~
With something in the sky, glowing.
Accept that as a fact.
They are speaking to me,
teaching me to attract.
It only takes a whisper
for my tongues to get flowing;
And, I start to look crisper~
Upon the world as an artifact
Of art and unknowing.
All 4 parts in succession
subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.
Next page