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Sandra Dec 2015
Maybe next year, the fire inside of me will burn out and I'll see that the sky is clear even when I'm not with you. Maybe later, I'll stop screaming out your name whenever I got drunk and maybe then I'll realize that you had always been poisoning my lungs.

Maybe, maybe I will stop letting you in. Maybe I can stop romanticizing the harmful things you did to me, maybe.. Maybe then I'll start feeling better. Maybe then I won't feel like I'm going to die.
I can't do it now though, your name still whispers inside my head and you keep appearing in my dreams. It's okay, maybe someday I'll forget about you.
Drop your Grudge Rants
by the door
We Will Not Tolarate
This Anymore

Edit and toss Distasteful Rhymes
Ugly Poems with Vain designs

Haughty thoughts and
bitter words
Childish petty accusing verbs

Who did What to Who and When
Will this Clusterfuck never end?

Selfish actions, Spoiled Children
We Refuse to be your Minions

Like CNN
And Drone Fox news

We've had enough of
Self Serving views

Hurting hearts, far and wide
tender Poets with
tenuous pride

Yet, Strutting and Indignant
for who I ask?
All those involved,
A Donkeys ***

Not a home for
Egotistical Zealots
Nor a place for
flinging pellets

We come in Peace, HP to share
Not get caught in ugly snares

And to the few that
have the gaul.

"If you have nothing decent to say,
say nothing at all"

YOU CHOOSE TO USE
HP THIS WAY.
GO AWAY. FIND SOME
WHERE ELSE TO PLAY.

●HELLO●HELLO●HELLO●**
                

Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
☆ YES, I AM YELLING ☆
Many of us feel so cheated when we
have a moment to come onto HP
and our time is wasted by ugly
degrading Rant Writes
against other Poets.
SERIOUSLY. . Come on.. REALLY???????
Ann Oct 2015
Right when she betters herself
she falls sickening with the blade of a razor clenched in her hands
Holding onto that piece of metal
As if her life depended on it.
And history repeats itself.
PaperclipPoems Sep 2015
Did I really do that?
Turn you into this person who stands today?
You look at me and all I see is anger
I can feel your hate from these hundreds of miles away.
I can sense you feel no guilt, which is funny
Because you have plenty to be sorry for
Patching up these holes in the walls
And staring at the broken hinges on every door.
Your rage with me began so long ago
And yet it had nothing to do with me
The first time you choked me unconscious
I woke up and realized how dangerous you could be.
The first time you shoved me with our daughter in my arms
Across the room then ran to our rescue
Revealed a side to your wickedness
That I always wish I never knew.
The first time was not the last time,
And somehow it is still at no end
You decided to push me away for six long years
Then suddenly you wanted to be my best friend.
You're hurt because you opened up to me
And finally gave me your heart and soul
But by the time you wanted this thing to work
I had already turned cold.
Stop calling my phone and playing victim
Continue to gossip about me to your family
Solitude suites you so well old friend
Just forget about me.
DW Aug 2015
Early morning and the head is pounding,
The unwelcome taste of something strong,
Dancing at the back of the throat,
Sit up, stand up, sit back down,
Vision spinning one way and stomach the other,
Staring into the mirror at a depressing cocktail,
Of two parts painkillers and one part regret,
And don’t hold back on the ice

Then it hits,
An acidic burning shooting up the throat,
As a black poison is spewed into the sink,
Only to wash away leaving a foul stench and worse taste,
Coughing and swearing,
Head in hands,
The age old lie muttered through tight lips,
“Never again...”
brandon nagley Aug 2015
Daily upon the screen
I seeith young men
Sent off to war;
As tis I seeith the greedy men
Getting rich from them
As tis I thinkest,
What for?



CONTROL.......



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Noelle Marie Nov 2014
I cannot believe the **** culture that exists in these modern times. We, as Women live life thinking that our rights have have come a long way since those times when we had little to none but have they really? Have our rights gone anywhere when we are still, now WARNED about ****, when we are told ‘you need to be careful, you’re vulnerable, watch out for ****’.. Why is it our responsibility to not be *****, why is it not our responsibility as a nation to educate our young Men on ****, to educate them on a Woman’s right to say ‘No’ and to not have it ignored, argued with or discussed, to have it accepted, respected. Why is this placed upon our shoulders, something for us to guard against, something for us to worry about as we walk down a street, as we walk through our towns and something for us to be blamed for when we wear a short skirt, a tank top, tight jeans and are therefore ‘asking for it’. I was warned about being ***** today on the bus, an old man said to me ‘you be careful, you watch out, a young woman with a body like yours’. This is the body God gave me, this is the gender God gave me, this is the woman that God made me and why should I therefore have to protect myself against being ***** because of it? This is **** culture and it needs to change NOW.
How can this be accepted? How can we ignore this when we have daughters, granddaughters, sisters, nieces, friends, sons, grandsons, brothers being raised with this perspective, this ideology, this **** culture?
Today, this is said not as a poet but as a woman in this society, as a one-day mother and as an individual who knows that things need to change for the better.
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