Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chris Jan 12
Sweet is the song in my heart,
That sings with angelic voices of
your beauty that makes my nights bright
That makes the sun rise in the morning


I got high and thought my heart was singing,
I had *** dreams that you were in so naturally when
I woke up with morningwood, I helped myself to your picture
and wanked myeslf all morning.
I wish I were blind
so I could not find
truth inside the lies
of these scornful eyes
that divide the world
in "blemish" and "pearl"
forgetting to see
what is real beauty.
komal aggarwal Apr 2017
I am still alive.
You want to check
Listen the heart beats,
It still flow the blood.
Nervous are still working ,
Go check it with the bottom .
Now came closer
Peep in my soul ,
It's dead .
Look in the eyes ,
They drained.
Dreams are vanished
Hopes are shattered
But no issue ,
As I am still alive
The blood is still flows!!
Will I ever be good enough?
I keep finding flaws,
Keep comparing myself to others,
It's not the things that matter in life,
But I still obsess like crazy
Am I really that shallow...?

It's just too much pressure,
Too many selfies,
Too many models,
And too much makeup
Being yourself doesn't feel enough,
Being real feels like being wrong,
Being wrong feels scary,
But in this case, it's right to be wrong,

I don't want to be one of many,
I want to be one of a kind.
Graff1980 May 2016
Do not make
The mindless masses
Your moral arbitrator
Think don’t just act
And forget about
Your actions later

It is an altar
Of altered skin tones
People prostrate
In front of
The mirror
Trying to mirror
Fake reality stars
Forgetting what real
Role models look like
The good guys
Who made art with heart
Set pen to higher purpose
But consumer queens
Who have been digitally remastered
Get more action
Then the masters
How many people
Remember Percy Shelley
Or Michael Landon
Two ages apart
Two different hearts
Who would not abandon
Two voices in the desert
One Romantic Poet
And one Tv actor
Hearts held high
They do not lie
But your new age heroes
Breed greed
Sell self interest
I miss that
Age of curiosity
And generation
Of compassion
The mouth of the pit,
For a frog stranded in it,
Is the sky's limit!

Displaying reluctance
To expand mental horizon
That strengthens their stance,
Disputing permeates
Their parlance!
Sometimes misunderstanding occurs due to shallowness of knowledge!
Ormond Oct 2015
Such fleeting and hollow wins
Spoonfuls of nothings
Oscar Mann Oct 2015
People took pictures of each other
Just to prove that they loved one another
Just to prove that they really existed

People take pictures of themselves
Just to prove that they’re happy with themselves
Just to prove that they’re really existing

So they filter their faults, like their Instagram photos
And they summarize all that is good in a sentence or two
And they practice their smiles as if it is worthwhile
To try to like life just to get a few likes

And the only thing that is left to be real
Are the things that are real and that people feel
They shouldn’t be sharing, thinking it’s scary
To actually share what they feel is too real
epictails Jul 2015
Gold pennies in designer wallets
Shopping lists in silver buckets
Running the thirst out like water
from dainty pockets
All in the name of ***** rackets

A trend show on the outside
A hollowness on the inside
Heaps of hard price tags aside
You are bought but unsatisfied

Glitter screens the cloudy eyes
Of those who are in the grave of earthly lies
Vanity consumed until the heart dries
In a mansion of hedonism,
existence nullifies

A jacket made of money would still leave you cold
In your last breath, just how many things can you hold?
You're the perfect fit of a capitalistic mold
And your will has long been sold
This is for some of my schoolmates who can only live like materialists. When you talk to them they are like empty heads who can think of nothing but what clothes to buy next what gadgets to entertain them next. I feel like their lives are floating on what the world feeds them and I find that extremely annoying and sad.

On another note, I am glad to be writing again and not just confessional poetry. Social commentaries are very hard to write but I think I can do them better now. I always force myself to write more of them because I have some strong opinions myself but no one wants to listen. At the very least, writing could provide a listening ear.
Ormond Apr 2015
*Her eyes faking yes, yet—
Her hands so far away, surmise,
That was the day I truly died—
Knowing a cipher compromised.
Next page