Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
WJ Thompson May 12
Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge!
Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show.
We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey.
I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president.
I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper.
Hear me
These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child,
Don’t listen to Rancor,
That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar
he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long,
I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl.
I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch.
How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot,
the skin dries, the phone dies,
the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.
Let's talk about revenge,
with a poem that ignites the fire
and then burns an identity.
You will find a sleeping monster within you
that you have been deliberately ignoring.
Let's talk about how an upheaval in the bodies oppressed reality,
a war that rages inside our heads.
I am a liberation warrior.
You are a comrade of struggle.
A spirit that is no longer
only shown in the metaphor of words
or the love of romantic characters
in the love life that haunts adolescence a lot.
Let's talk about revenge,
a fictional monster,
and a boy who stands bullied
wanting to show his identity
in every ******* world order.
Losers behold, those who flock!
And for he has long been alone,
fighting monsters in poisoned brains,
and a stomach that is only the main goal
of fighting for power,
now we are again in vain.
Let's talk, really the truth!
No love grows other than our love for ourselves.
Even if neither you are the hero,
nor the main character!
Indonesia, 3rd April 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
In Silence
The English ex SAS Special Forces member went to the Ukraine to fight. He travelled light and took just a small back pack and a head full of skills. A gun was a gun and a bayonet a bayonet. He was trained to use most things as weapon especially military articles.

He decided to go to the Ukraine after the Russians invaded proper in early 2022. The Ukrainian Army took him to a holding facility where they vetted him. This took three days. Included was basic close combat skills and weapons use.

He excelled and was given a job, being sent to a forward artillery position with a dozen other foreign troops to protect it. The SAS man was in charge and most men and the single girl spoke English. All understood military commands and signals. All were veterans from either conscript or professional armies.

Each was here for their own reasons and all disliked either what Russia had done or Russians themselves. The English SAS member had killed several Muslim terrorists from Daesh and al Qaeda in Iraq and Afghanistan. Now he looked forward to fighting and killing some Russians, officers if possible. After being in the Ukraine six days he was on the front line leading his first patrol. This was better than being a bouncer in a Manchester night club!

The SAS guy ordered his men to only use bayonets as they silently crept to a Russian fox hole a mile away. He wanted blood and the rush of combat, of killing. There was the trench and a single sentry, asleep. He would knife him himself. Then his squad would ****** the rest and take back any weapons, maps or documents. He spoke four languages including Russian. Any Intel was good for his bosses though. Here we go! There’s the sleeping sentry. Gently now, he must die in silence…
ScaryGary Mar 13
i felt so safe, sleeping by the bear cave
and the honey he brought me kept me warm
the morning dew glistened while he danced for me
while i ate the honey

funny bear
you make my heart melt

last winter seemed like it lasted forever
and the frost froze off my toes
he carried me in some spring water, and cloves
i kissed him on his big old nose

i felt so good, laying there and dying
the comfort he gave me was irreplaceable

then i heard the hounds

he buried me in some cedar and pine needles
i could hear him climbing the big oak tree

the baying of the hounds must have lasted a hundred years
and i was still alive
so was he

then you came
you took out a pellet rifle
you started shooting my friend
you started shooting my friend

the excitement of the hounds grew
the hair on their backs stood on end
so did mine
so did his

why did you shoot my friend with that air rifle?
why did you shoot my friend 23 times?

i was laying there listening when he fell
when the dogs jumped on him, at your command
i listened while your dogs tore my friend to shreds
my friend didn't even make a sound

he was a good bear
such a good bear

he didn't bother anyone, and would have given the hide off his back
but you killed my friend and took his hide off his back

you killed my friend
you killed my friend!

you let your dogs tear him apart


i can still see you dancing
funny bear

you saved me from freezing last winter
my toes even grew back!

thank you, my friend
your warmth and love has kept me alive
the things you taught me will help me forever

will you please dance with me?
i miss you
Jade Jan 20
If you didn’t want me to write poetry about
then perhaps you shouldn’t have ****** me off
Isaac Jan 10
its the end of the old beginning of the new
but i can't pretend to walk through this new door without any residue
without any trace of you, or memories
starting a new project, transversing a new lane
i wish i was as sacrilegious and vain
as i used to be before i was beaten black and blue
until i encountered you and my confidence was rocked
until i encountered you and your mind games won’t stop
even after i have burned away every trace
even after i have burned away at the stake
you always find a way to worm your way into my peace
disrupt and unplug, mistrust and vengeance
but what really is love, i just crave revenge
Persephone Dec 2021
Someday I will bring this world to its knees for everything that it has done to me.
And while it begs for my forgiveness, I will simply watch as it trembles at the echos of my laugh
Edward Schall Dec 2021
All your dreams like clouds so high,

My words are wind to help you fly,

For all the tears you've made me cry,

I came this far to watch you....

mark soltero Dec 2021
moving backwards farther than before
can’t look at myself anymore
they made me bruise my skin
generosity is lame
authenticity is a facade
your empty promises will buy it all
jealousy resides in my heart to this day because of them
flashbacks haunt me
green lights guide me down away from reality
save me from my former
a sad child out for revenge
cold to touch
fully detached and shaking
haunting visions of time spent in delusion
lie to feel
lie to escape
feel the power behind that
behind the bile and tears were strength
i regret the times when i had it all
nights spent with myself loathing my own
a boken mirror is like drinking alone
sometimes i think im dying
but i’m not worth saving
break the cycle
but what’s the point
Next page