Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I get it
I believed
I thought
I suffered
for you
for us
for me
for my inability
to love you
again and again
I get it
that is not so
I
I am not inadequate
you
you do not love me
you
you want to possess me
your pride speaks
your cowardice
holds me to you
your selfishness
hidden by  layers
of mellifluous sensitivity
hits me
you
you want to hurt me
you do not even notice
what you say
you do not see
the bleeding gashes
you  keep leaving
on my skin
you do not feel
swollen and distorted scars
on my mind
on my heart
pains
you've inflicted to me
with your silences
with your absences
with your looks
with your words
empty and useless
and false
drawn with black ink
as the planned route
on a cold map
you see my pain
you see my insecurities
you see my guilt
and you walk to your way
heedless
you do not care
it’s been all about you
fake victim of the world
hidden
by a mask of dignity
papier-mâché made
glued with slime
script writing
for an ignorant audience
vacant and bigots faces
you speak
you do
you look
lies!
they’re all lies
black like  pitch
you pretend
you mislead
you are sneaky
with me
against me
I believed
I thought
I suffered
for you
for us
for me
for my inability
to love you
again and again
but I
I loved you
I fought
I gave
I kept quiet
I waited
gestures and words
that never arrived
I was
I was there
you could just have
to see me next to you
you've grown
our most beautiful rose
now
it is buried among the thorns
dry and withered
its scent
is consumed
in waiting wind
a persistent
moldy smell
into our  nostrils
I was alone
the only color
in a gray landscape
holding a watering can
without water
the fire has gone
no embers under the ashes
I get it
I am not bad
I am not inadequate
I am not inept
I'm not nonentity
I am
I must
I exist
now I Know ... who I am
Noah A Baker Mar 2016
So there I was, and there you were, all of us,
everyone, dangling their feet off the rooftop.
Four distinctly different artists caught in the same painting
yet, none of us holding the paintbrush to our passions, yet.

Ambitious, yes, focused, not so much, motivated? Most definitely.

Dedicated to manipulation,
to making a masterpiece for the masses,
a decision to "form a more perfect union".  
To map a new demographic before our deaths.

If our desire was to make a mark, well,
we'd be done already.
The mark's been made, but not engraved,
and for it to stay we need to stomp on it until our own foot decays.

And these days, most pictures will fade,
So as us four sat there, dancing with the devil,
we dared to begin drafting on our canvas.
With no brush, but our own fingers,
our own blood, sweat, tears, and elbow grease,
finally finding the paintbrush to be figurative,
that we were manipulated ourselves.

We learned to picture the paintbrush as our pointer,
our palms the palettes, our pinkies the varnish,
a promise our piece would never be vandalized.

The world is your oyster, they say,
and the city was our canvas,
where we painted nothing but pearls,
rare commodities for the communities to cherish
until our masterpiece, the indefinite work in progress, is completed.
background:
we always struggle with pursuing what we want to do due to us believing we can't, or lack of resources, that we don't have what it takes, etc. And that's more or less fear making you think that. Once you let go of the fear in your head you can chase your dreams and passions. Once you realize that it's just a mental block, and you remove it, the world is yours to do what you want. Enjoy!
Haritha Seby Feb 2016
World
Will Seem
Desirable Site
All Because
You SMILED
Life is too short.. So i am trying to smile...
I was smiling yesterday.. I am smiling today..and i will smile tomorrow... Smile is a powerful weapon to attack our enemies... My enemies are my own depression and the pity looks of my colleagues.. So i always stand with a beautiful smile...to change this magical world...
Timothy Ward Jan 2016
o palmyra
lonely sentinel
to know you
was to love you
your silken threads
were spiced with gold
we trade today in
hate twice sold
faith in the
Almighty's trust
and now you are but
dust to dust
As an architecture student it broke my heart to see ISIS destroy the Greco-Roman city of Palmyra which sat on the crossroads of the Silk Road for centuries! Cultural infantilism!
PaperclipPoems Jan 2016
And of what of love, he asked
As he slid his fingers through my hair..
There was a special strength in his grip
And a certain passion in his stare..
But my body trembled and my heart raced
At the thought of loving him..
For if I allow myself to crumble to pieces here and now,
I may never recover again.
I imagine a couple, laying on a blanket in a peaceful scenery, dated back to the Renaissance era.
Haritha Seby Dec 2015
Dearest Dear,

    This is my last attempt
    The very same people
    who I'm going to miss.
    Tears stream down my cheek.
    My head feels heavy,
    limbs go weak.
    Darkness surrounds me.
    Blankness,
    no sound
    I feel my body drifting
    I hear a scream, I hear a moan
    Oh Guardian Angel!
    It was my family
    I want my family back.
    No sound out my mouth,
    Only in my mind.
    No one to help me,
    No one for me to find.
    I start to yell...
    Please get me out of this hell!
    Please get me out of this hell!
    I give up!!!!
    
     I open my eyes, and look around
     I am  lying in a hospital bed
     No one makes a sound
     "Sorry" is all I say.
     Mother starts crying,  Father is sad.
     I got a bear hug from Papa.
     I still manage a small smile,
     And close my eyes for a while.
     Forget all the bad days,
     I'm leaving them in the past.
     Misty clouds vanish and,
     The new Aurora commence.
          
    * Sincerely

    *
Haritha
MY REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE
$$$ A New Era Of Life  $$$
Cheyenne Oct 2015
What words would I have written then
If my fate had lied within?
Stories remembered? Studied lines?
Or eroded by passing time?
Jacquelyn Morgan May 2015
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
I am the deer that eludes the hunt.
The thick beating drum that rests by my lung,
Is no ones to scoop out or to conquer
Round’ my neck droops -a necklace of daisies,
Withered off-white six-seasons sun-bright
A gift from the Artist;
Whose soul twined with mine,
Deep roots and thick vined.
Our fruits once plump ripe, now lie rotten
Plucked from my presence, forgotten
The essence of Wild & Free- we ran rapidly,
From, institutions, illusions, dogma, delusions
I am he and he is me. a painting, verse, a memory
& now I flee alone, paintbrush tail, no home
To hunt me is in vain.
I am the bohemian- I am never tamed
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
this poem was inspired by Sir Thomas Wyatt's poem titled, Whoso List to Hunt
Neen May 2015
Let me write my love
On every wall
I will paint entire
Cities with your name
Every metaphor a
Thinly veiled attempt
To describe the stars
In your eyes

Let me compose symphonies -
Conduct orchestras and choirs
To sing your praise
Every note an ode to
The way the moonlight
Caresses the curves of your face

Let me put brush to canvas
And I will command
Every hue
Every brushstrokes
To reveal the secret
Of your smile

And if you let me
I would dedicate
my entire life
To master every art form
If it meant I could accurately convey
The feelings you stir within me
Next page