part of me wants to scream
I want to scream out to the world to get them to understand I want to scream until there isn’t a single breath left in my lungs until they sting with the energy , I've expended and my words hang in the air for all to hear to be a poet you must write with a certain passion live with the satisfaction that you can constantly assemble phrases words and lines because to truly write you must feel you must freely write your emotion you must learn to let go of your darkest secrets allow the words to flow from your mind liberate yourselves from mental slavery they cannot comprehend why I write I am striving for inner peace fighting for the freedom of my soul writing is my form of release because sometimes poetry is not a release of emotion but an escape of emotion moments & raw emotions these aren't things ready made we fear what we know but do not understand we are loose at the seams pretending to fine Yet desiring to be heard understood from the core of our poems our souls © Jennifer Delong 🦏 8/14/18
Raw. Vulnerable. Honest.
You remind me to exhale the crumbling pieces. It doesn't matter the canyon width of longing Or the tumultuous curve of bending roads. No matter for ego or dreams to come to fruition You are messy art work, the fun, soul ablazing kind. And I hate how angry you get at times Or worse, that I actually think your anger is justified. I want days to soar for you, to have soft, chuckling eyes To decipher your deep hurts as patches of frost and nothing more. And I hate how lonely I can feel your bones rustle with some cold truths. But you could never be Cold to me. You help this crazy, babbling soul Remember what its like to thrive In a relentlessly, dying Winter.
The sadness you see On the walls Painted in different hues Unblemished sans the happy shade It’s not the colour blue Primarily it never could blend Faded away Under layers The colour of no origin Unblemished by the happy shade Leaves a permanent stain On the walls
you plan to trap
to take a cut- a ripening peach with sugar bait? you soil yourself remove all sense when all you have you desecrate her body sees, her body sees 'I'll take it now she's just the size to make me big bend over chick for she won't see to mists she'll flee I'll do a trick with my joystick' her inside sees, her inside sees it's not all past in spurting spray a laughing squirt bull at a gate to steal a bud the harshest crime to rob a child her life dictate her body tells, her body tells for it is seen and registered it's catalogued in Judge's file the breakage raw her broken selves you callous brute are facing trial and all can see as you do now the lies you told you *******
Abusers tell one another:
''It's such good luck she's only 6 for after 8 it's much too late?!" Of course, it may be a boy, and the abuser may be female. Whatever the case, it helps to know their thinking so we can better protect our kids ©https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/848436017300514805/
I've read poems about doves and stones afloat in rivers sunlit by the warmth of summer,
and poems about love so intense it cuts you into tiny pieces of longing. But where is the poem I need about despising yourself so much it aches, spreads around you like a sickening disease and leaves your body to rot in shame and self inflicted panic. About not being able to pour anything but cowardice in every action you take, about feeling so alone that you end up eating yourself. About hate becoming fuel becoming fire becoming ashes of you. You did this to yourself, What poems can help you now ?
Feel like a rabid dog, waiting to set his claws in any moving legs,
I'll bite and bite and bite I'll tear the flesh, chew the bones, swallow the bits and pieces and ask for more Feed me once and we'll both regret it, I can't be kept from touch when the craving gets so deep.
I yield, I cave, I give in. My 2 weeks put themselves in centuries ago. I've fallen from my self-righteous high horse; a stallion meant only for those full of their own capability. For so long I've fought more than 'tooth and nail', more than 'blood sweat and tears'. Fought harder than 'life or death'. I've fought to the diminishment of my brazen, furious soul. Worn my own sharp rapturous vigor for this life down to a dull dull syringe. Even the most skilled, determined ****** couldn't tap a main line vien with what now remains.
Felt like this was raw as ****. So, yeah. *Whoop there it is*
I’m the kind of person
that when she’s feeling sad and when she’s crying she starts to think about the people she’d want to talk to at the moment but no one comes to mind because everyone close to her can’t handle how emotional she is, can’t handle seeing her cry, can’t handle seeing her so upset. So she starts thinking of other people that she’s been talking to but she doesn’t feel comfortable enough or close enough to open up to them so she just lies in bed feeling sorry for herself and cries herself to sleep.
I was only four
A chaser for dreams I held my colored fist Pacing to find the scenes Since I was eight I started losing friends Crying on playgrounds Burying my head in the sand Twelve years have passed Silenced by women at decks Obey or lose your badge, miss Says the man who swallows pills When I was fourteen I got lost in worthless daydreams Sharp razors looked so serene Petrifying my mortal craze I thought when I turn eighteen I could magically reappear The hallways were soundless But the sirens woken my mistakes Now i’m twenty one of age Living on an empty land I fluster my body inside a cage I smoke to wean my soul’s pride Will I live past this age? I replenish with rage Years pass and nothing change Who knows if today’s my last day