#questions poems on Hello Poetry

Persephone Springs Jul 2017

A broken window will want repair
And a broken arm must be treated with care
But what happens to a broken heart?

Do the shards come together and try to mend?
Do they search helplessly for what could have been?
Can anyone tell me how things will end,
For my broken heart?

Do the pieces separate, and freely roam?
Do they long for love, or wish to be alone?
Does anyone know how to make a home,
For my broken heart?

Will my eyes no longer twinkle and my mouth no longer smile?
Will I forget how to love, or be tender and mild?
Does anyone know what life will be while,
I have this broken heart?

Will its love flow out to the empty places in me?
Will my whole body know what it is to be warm and sweet?
Does anyone know the language or beat,
Of my broken heart?

Will all its pieces move as one?
Will they dream of what could be, what is, and what was?
Can anyone find a greater love,
Than that of a broken heart?

While some do not realize that a whole is but two halves
And with a broken heart, they forget how to laugh
So that is why I am proud to love and still have
My beautiful broken heart

#love #broken #heart #healing #questions #worry #pain #joy #fear #silverlining

Aaron LaLux Jul 2017

∆ City of Demonios

The City of Demonios

“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”

I was awaited on,
before they knew they were waiting,
snatched from my cradle pinched from my dreams,
or so it seems because it appears the people are awaking,

I’ve awaken,
in some sort of dream awakening,
and I’m trying to not let Them get to me,
but it seems They get to everyone eventually,

preyed on by hungry Demons,
Fallen Angels that haven’t found peace,
from the hills in The City of Los Angeles,
to the beaches in Long Island in the East,

and this indigestion from lost intentions is getting intense,
so we throw up everything from inside the Belly of the Beast,

a feast,
I offer up my body for Death,
like they do on Himalayan mountain peaks,
when they offer eagles the bodies of the dead,

see only through the death of the physical,
can the Soul truly ascend,

ascend,
do not fear the Reaper,
hey friend,
let’s make them all Believers.

I see her,
like a nightmarish dream,
I love Her I hate her I don’t want her I have to have her,
she quietly stares in my eyes loudly and makes the Silence scream,

scream,
isn’t that a painting?

A dream,
isn’t that an awakening?

Let’s not,
let our,
hopes only be hopes,

manifest,
all of this,
before Death ties His rope,

around our necks,
bringing about suffocation,
please let us be free,
we all need some liberation,

but for now,
I’ll just take a glass of water,
I’m parched it’s a desert out here,
and I’m wondering if this trouble’s worth the bother,

“Waiter,
please a glass of water.”,
I order a glass of water after saying all of this,
then turn to you and say “Isn’t it ironic?”,

“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”…

No answers only questions,
ah well stay calm and carry on…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

from 777: Alphas & Numerics
available worldwide 7/7/17
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746

#illuminati #7 #ironic #dreams #interesting #questions #insomnia #*** #facts #mood

Josh Mayesh Jul 2017

Night

You are the night, embracing,
Whispering the sounds unheard in light.
You are this night.
And you are the night before,
Before the dreams,
Before the losses and the hopes began to grow.
And you are my night,
The periscope,
Tunneling through
Despair,
Shielding,
Yielding to a day, what day, someday
Not known.
And all answers to the questions
Of each night
All night, questions asked
And spooned out before us in rows,
Stacked in pill bottles
Teetering on the edge
of final night’s
control
are all my own.

#night #loss #despair #unknown #questions #control

Yogita Tahilram Jul 2017

#2 Questions

The last time I saw you,
I begged for
Stillness and silence
From the questions causing
Tremors in my head;
And for a split second,
They obliged.

After which they morphed from
The whimpers of a lovesick girl
Into an army of
Screaming and indignant women.
They flooded my mouth,
And clamoured against
The barricades that were my teeth
Held in a tight, fake smile.

I could feel my tongue
Straining to replicate the
Echoes of the questions
That had been seared onto
It's surface.

“What is this?”
“Is it supposed to hurt this much?”

I can't possibly let them out, can I?
So I chew, and swallow and
Chew
And
Swallow, and
Wince at its rancid acidity.

But they are relentless,
For I feel their sharp words
***** against the backs
Of my eyes.

They substituted tears,
And filled my eyes to the brim,
In the place of
A smile that never reached them.

I think you should
Acknowledge my tears now,
Its time I asked you a few questions.

#poetry #questions #friendship #love

IPM Jul 2017

Questions

What would you do
if you had an eternity
to do whatever you wish?
Would you, read every book
for knowledge and truth
to capture the essence of life?
Or maybe you'd paint
swirling your brush silently
on the grandest of frames
beyond the walls of time.
Sadly, it all ends.
Every word written,
every stroke made
every stone carved
wash away like the sand in the ocean,
within the ashes of the infinite cosmos.
It costs us many tiresome hours and allnighters
for the smallest cause - fulfilling our dreams, small and grand.
Funny, how everything ends.
No one lays in a bed of roses
in their final moments, in fact
time keeps moving forward
and actions don't make the reality bend.
Reproduction seems pointless for everything we bestow
upon the future generations is gone with the wind tomorrow.
Is it all pointless?
No matter the struggle of our soul to get noticed by somebody just for a second
in this abyss we call life, we ask ourselves - is it worth it?
Is it worth all the suffering,
just because we feel and feel just because we exist
repeating a cycle that's already sealed?
To answer the question before
what I would do if I had all the time in the universe
is try hard, until my bones were sore.
Naive - perhaps, considering all the previous words,
but maybe that's all we have.
Maybe trying and even failing
is the right thing to do
just to make something beautiful, because everything else hurts.
Maybe life isn't so cruel
and it's all a facade
created by sadness
and loneliness being it's fuel.
Either way, it's all I have
and I won't stop trying
for all the hours I've spent working
all the days I've wasted
in a sad week of crying
will all be for nought if I just quit.
Someday, I might also create something worth remembering,
but before that day, I'll try until I fit.

#questions #existential #crisis #eternity #wish

Inkveined Jul 2017

Open Letter/poem

Sister that I never met

Do you ever regret

Not knowing me?

Though apart, we're family

Did you think about me, too?

Among all those years we grew

Sister, are you married now?

Our mother's love formed your brow

What you were told was a lie

She never tried to take your life

Our mother made sure you were born

Though your father left her torn

She's always missed you, and your brother

The woman that we all call "mother"

Her love, yes, far from perfect is

But who would be sane

After losing two kids?

Ugliness and beauty coexist in this messed up universe of ours-why are good and bad so often mixed together? I guess, that's in the nature of things. We might have the best intentions and still wind up hurting someone..

#letter #questions #family #love #loss #****

Kyle madill Baker Jul 2017

Paniced theory

It is time to change the way things are, scratch that smell from our noses, like **** in a bottle chucked out the window while going 90,

The free fall fogs up the glasses on a blushed face, 40oz till we down the sound of crying,

Lie across the ocean
Lie across the land
Send truth over and watch it slip through the cracks,

Breached news of frustration calls "Canada is coming, what the **** is America doing,"
We do our best to travel against all odds, piloting a spoon made of silver into a greedy pocket originally meant to feed those eating mud pie, baking in an ever dying sun as fish float up to the surface,

Choking down the salt water to avoid drill, give them a gun instead, it will protect our false memories and concocted purpose,

This was paid for by ink soaked bones working in minimum oxygen to the brain, featured on rolls of film stripping off clothes covered in lust,

Taking hold of a crowd with merely this voice, conducting an audience with bed knobs and broomsticks, rhythmically grinding the **** awry, taste this sun from the lips of a fairy, mystical or not we were there to receive,

Open our hearts via chaos trained messages, massaging back pains to the point of tears, electromagnetism therapy causing the lights around the dance floor to flicker, moving at incomprehensible speeds relating colors between points B to Z,

On numbered grids the scale is curved to fit the description of another one biting the dust,
And as we finally rest on cold stones the Panic sets in.

#cats #dogs #chaos #maker #words #new #spokenword #questions #find #me

Mida Burtons Jul 2017

Number 9

Did you wander the fields the way I did?
Tell the stories that I told?
Ask the questions I never thought to ask?
Were you scared of the dark the way I am?
Did you also dream of a life you could live for yourself?
Did you fight those last few days?
Did you know if your predicament?
Were you as angry at the world as I still am?
Were your questions ever answered?
Did you accomplish anything at all?
Were you able to make the decisions you wanted?
Do you still look over us today?

#skeleton #bones #mshed #stimulus #poetry #teen #life #emotion #questions #hope

Shanath Jul 2017

My City

On my bed,
The sheet climbing off the sides,
My cover a pile at my feet,
And a transparent stretch on my face
That blocks the light from within
But not without.
Tiny dots across the window
Glows like fireflies in the cone,
A dark, dark room.
(Rough edges.)

The world outside
A buzz of flies
Waiting to die,
You could use a gun
To shoot at them,
And they would thank you
For all the destruction,
The blood so little from them
You won't even have to wash them off.
(Is it even red?)

There is no glory
There is no pain
In the killing of lives
Tinier than our egos.
The buzz flows
Like the wind,
Or the air in the conch
The blood in your vessels.
If you don't put your ear next to it,
You won't even listen.
(Silence.)

I was twelve
Probably ten,
My brother held his breath
While he explained the Schrodinger's cat.
I listened the same,
I cannot and will not say
I understood it
Because you can never tell
At which age
Things became what they are now.
How can you tell, its your mind that grew
And not the thing itself?
(Questions.)

( TRAVEL TALES I.
This might not make sense but its a part of something bigger like a single day in a year)

Been away
Been busy
A few things took a break
But in a circle
Everything comes back.

#city #childhood #questions