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Malia Nov 2023
I can’t breathe,
Pressed down by the weight
Of meticulously staying
The same.

It’s a hammer
Coming down on me
It never stops.
A cycle, it never stops.

How can you stand it?
The mindless mundanity
Dragging us down in
A haze, eyes wide open.
I did a challenge to write a poem spontaneously, no cheating or planning!
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2023
the peculiar sound of morning
during the long, boarded-up winter,
resonating through a cistern
set apart by thin waves
of decaying reservoir

a hint of canticle
in the unfounded wind,
impossible to ignore,
a series of collapsing oppositions
like interior and exterior,
self and other, the momentum
conveys the sublimity of being,
immersed in an unfathomable vastness,
of being part of an indivisible whole

a repeated glitch in the system,
our forever changing
constellation of feelings
and backward configurations,
slipping into a stream,
where the water precedes us,
and it will outlast us

we don't so much carry life
as allow ourselves to be carried
along by it, swept up in its current
for a little while

eleanor prince Dec 2022
I'm sorting pictures in the archive box.
Shelved for that day that I kept putting off.
The job's to cull and have less stuff to store,
but spiders lurk and snakes are sliding out.

The photo shouts in raw dismemberment.
A howling wind, the prowl of packs of wolves.

I stare at trembling splinters held so close.
Her daytime Self looks like a sweet old dame.

I hear again the creak as floorboards pause;
my breath is held lest I miss steps that halt,
outside my door in seconds held at bay.

I see the handle

Her strides are swift and next, her perfume's here.
With broken breath, she yields to clawing drives
and throws my bedclothes off like spider webs.

My youth she steals as night groans on and on.
For merchants took her bloom on stormy sea.

I clutch my knife and picture stabbing her;
But I've no strength to do the deed - I'm five.

Her mouth is pushed on lips zipped up and cold.
The bed is torn in tangled bits of knots.
My legs are jammed together- ripped apart.
My pillow's wet as aunty takes her cut.
MalakF Jul 2022
O, come a little closer - hear what I have to say,
I know that one piece of writing can be interpreted in so many different ways.
O, but do pay attention to my word-play,
To the picture I’m trying to portray.

O, I hope by the end of this you will understand the image I am trying to convey,
But do not get me wrong, the end of this is something I am attempting to delay.
O, it is saddening to know that sooner or later my rhymes will fade away
So I will replay, replay, replay.

O, how I pray that what we have will not decay.
Like all the flowers & bouquets that I watched wither/die a bit more every day.
O, but how pretty were they?
Sad to know that each & every single one was thrown out like the contents of an ashtray.

O, how you must have noticed the repetition of O’s - I think they are here to stay,
Unlike my pathetic, childish rhymes that I am struggling to hold at bay.
O, do not get me wrong - the rules to rhyme are so easy to obey,
They are so easy to slay.

O, like tray, cafe, puree,
For god sake, even JFK.
O, please tell me - do you see the problem on display?
Do you see what I am trying to say, what is coming my way?

O, it feels like a betrayal
No, no, no that’s not a rhyme.
I need to rhyme, I need us to be okay.

Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.

O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.

Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.

O, please I don't want us to stray
I hate how we went from white to grey.
O, please I don’t us to end this way,
I know I am barely rhyming but I will try my best, okay?

Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.

O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.

I’ll come up with more,
Dismay, replay, is-lay.
Tray, cafe, valet,
Delray, Alleyway, Chevrolet.

It is not that I don’t know how to rhyme,
I just need something to rhyme for.
Rhyming is synchronisation, it is compatibility
I just need to know we are.

Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.

Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.

I know I am barely rhyming, but I will do my best okay?
Please stay,
Don’t go away.
I always associated rhyme with compatibility, and although sometimes certain words that rhyme does not mean the same thing - such as "tree" and "flee", but in a bizarre way, they connect through rhythm. Rhythm can be such a beautiful thing, like in songs - where it can be jumpy, makes you want to dance and generally has a nice flow to it. Music is only one example of the input of rhythm. In general, a rhythm means consistency, a pattern in some way. To me rhythm (although it is not always the case) connotes good & happiness, like the act of skipping in a field of flowers.

Whereas with repetition, I always interpreted it as a point to emphasis, a dire need to be paid attention to, to be highlighted, acknowledged, underlined and to be focused on. In a way, it screams desperation to me. I don't believe it flows smoothly. Instead, I see it as pressing the car brakes quite abruptly & harshly, that your water bottle, phone and even yourself are yanked out of your seat - with the seatbelt suddenly burning your chest, or a child throwing a tantrum (crying, stomping their feet, throwing themselves on the floor & screaming).

In this writing of mine (partly completed), I speak about rhyming and how I do not want to stop - where at the same time there is the presence of repetition. And if you see repetition as a "scream of desperation" as I do right now, then as you progress through the page, you will be able to see that my rhymes become an embodiment of exactly that (desperation) - not only through stating clearly my urgency for rhyme but also by my rhymes themselves becoming repeated - thus my repetition of "O" fades away around the end - but that does not mean repetition is not there anymore - all that happened is that it took another form. Repetition becomes the only way for me to rhyme. Does that mean they are still rhymes or are they repetitions? If a word is repeated does that mean it rhymes or is it merely a duplication of the word? Can we distinguish between them? Is repetition more powerful or are rhymes? What do we make out of this?
arlyah Jul 2022
in my bones there is a rattling

inside there are flies
they lay their eggs in my hope and love and all the warm wet feelings i have
the eggs hatch, the maggots feast, the flies grow up, and then they die

"theres a rattling in my bones," i say
the doctor does not look up from his papers
"perhaps," my stomach tightens and i feel the maggots bite into me
"you just need to lose some weight?"
i thank the doctor for his time again
he does not bother to notice my jaundice
nor the stench of rotting fruit

each step sounds like jingling keys
i found fear in the sound once, and then comfort
some days i barely hear it
some days its so loud i cant hear anything else
maybe one day itll go away
or at least stay a consistent volume
until then i do not walk

"my bones," i tell the doctor.
"they're fine." he tells me
i ball my hands into shaking fists
the corpses of flies bounce around inside my knuckles
can he hear the noise?
can he hear the rattling?

in my mind i beat the doctor
his skin is split and his bones are broken
i eat the marrow
my wings vibrate behind me
i lay my eggs in his hope and love and all his warm wet feelings
and curse him to live like me

outside i smile
i thank the doctor for his time again
and i leave
again and again and again and again
spacewtchhh Jun 2022
It's okay to lie down underneath your blank ceiling
Until twelve, one, two and counting...
Cutting your skin to pieces,
Eating your unfavorite chocolate Reese's,

Until your body fall into sleeping,
Mixing old dreams about running away
From a cult or an unknown creature
From someone you know or a foreign soldier.

It's okay to make mistakes as you run
It's okay, as they say, "You're only human. "
How you talk and swear too much through our thread
How you ignored and made every part of them bleed
How you call your every episode special
How your own mess and theirs wrestle

Until you open your eyes to see the same ceiling,
Still blank but with a hint of late morning blaze.
Time to repeat the same heat without healing
I apologize to you, one from the doorcrack who gazed.
should i visit a therapist
Ghxstcxt Apr 2022
Looking for inspiration
In a desolate dreary wasteland
The same **** just different days spent
Hoping life will finally make sense
Cos I've got bored and aggravated
With the drama that will unfold
Is this really the end of the road before me I behold?
So I form facts from fiction
To avoid repetition
Of dreary events to which each week ends
Cos my yesterdays tomorrow
You know so my yesterday will follow today
A bit like Bill Murray
From that film Groundhog Day
But with a lot less adventure
Or comedic reflection
A script not to question
No seems between scenes
I'm caught in a dream I can't see me come free from
And those are the facts son
There's no lights camera action
No glitz and no glamour
Definitely no famous actor
With the hardest tasks keeping track of
Straight from morning to night
In the flash of an eye
The same simple ending
A yawn then a sigh
Only to wake with a shudder
Butterflies inside flutter
Feeling nothing but gutted
No new day
No new dollar
It's the same as before
As you walk out the door
The same route to work
To prepare for the worst
And they call it White Collar
Should be Call Centre Curse
Jim Sep 2021
Another time, another space
A breath from fear and grieving
The sunlight fills an empty void
But soon I will be leaving

Tire tracks on dusty roads
Her crimson heart lay beating
Generations of divided families
Yes, soon I will be leaving

The destination was never known
Each path opaque and deceiving
As soft as ravens opal wings
And soon I will be leaving

Watching rose blossoms grow
This gift is for receiving
Comfort found in the daze of summer
So, soon I will be leaving

Don’t run, please stay awhile
Hope and love can be deceiving
My back turned towards the bell tower
For now I will be leaving
spacewalker Jul 2021
I'm happy, but I don't feel that way.

From cutting wrists and tormented sleep,
I've come so far,
but sitting alone in my car,
I know just how close my feeling are to being dragged right back to when I felt nothing at all.

Life's good, but not good enough

My smiles were fake,
Only real when I got baked
But even that somehow felt better then being so close to falling back into that dark place

I think I loved the chase,
but it's over now

I'm happy
I guess,
But terrified too

Because I know the only feeling that can come next
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