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.

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 *******

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 concede,
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.

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