Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kassan Jahmal Jun 10
Act as if I could sell dreams
to an insomniac,
Or selling broken pieces to
a crack.
Cracking skulls to think
well ahead.
Arranging my plans in serial,
on the few crumbs of bread.

Why I ask the Lord for my daily bread,
to fill all my ideas. Keep them fed.

Seem to be a puzzle piece,
trying to find my fit
As I play such games,
finding humour from my wit.
Dressed for life, suit and tie
hoping it all could fit.
But life at times feels so much
like a job, but I can't even quit.

I'm over my head at times,
wanting to be an upright citizen.
Beating on myself,
maybe because I didn't get enough discipline.

Days I'm trying to train my mind,
most days I lost track.
Picture out my life plans,
still feels like there's a drawback.

Pressing the On and Off switch
of my mind. Don't know what's current.
Haven't paid the dues of my life,
nowadays I have a warrant.

Relevance goings irrelevant,
if you're not relevant to yourself.
Relatively speaking, I don't know how
to end this piece. So here's the end. Oh well!





But no,


Why must the end of a cause
not have you all standing in your applause?
Lord only knows,
why we're quick to pick out the flaws.

The pain of hanging over your jaws,
while I'm handing you a gift of my words.
Like the non-existent Santa Claus.

Spitting words to your face,
facts of my case.
Who runs the passion of his soul,
for you to chase.

Anyways,

This is far too long,
to the point I don't know where these words are coming from.
This rant is far too withstanding,
way too strong.

So to you all, I'm now gone.
I'm guessing this was a rant of mine.
Payton Feb 24
I dreamed you kissed me  and when I woke, I was unkissed, and alone.

So darling, kiss me now, kiss me like you did in that dream.

Kiss me with the lips you used to spit daggers and whisper secrets, and soothe souls.

Kiss me like the sky kisses the earth when the sun sets.
This poem was written in 2016.
FloydBrandon Feb 2020
Well I’ll be the first of my kind to admit
I like the type of girl that spits
On my clip
**** me until she gets rich
If I go all in   on you go all out on me
into the lions den
Eatin that ***** like a savage
cause I’m wild about it
nja Feb 2019
Recoil. And recoil fast.
She was of simple taste so He shattered her veiny lungs with his spit almost effortlessly.
Under his weight she was stunted, her limbs frozen by the constant of his blarring audioporn.
At every touch she had to brace herself for his embrace.
Colten Sorrells Jan 2019
hey, do ya
think ya
could break me
off a piece
of that

Kit-Kat?

real quick
I can stop at just one about like I can eat just one slice of bacon...


**** ain't happenin'
Julianna Dec 2018
the raindrops feel like spit.
raindrops are beautiful,
and so was your spit,
but only when it danced with
mine.
Julian Delia Oct 2018
Starving, bones poking out;
Unraveling, loans choking you out.
Carving a niche, trying to survive,
Struggling to find a meaning to being alive.

You lie in bed,
Thinking about the tears you’ve shed,
The sweat, the blood you’ve bled –
The tough times scraping by,
The close calls you’ve had.

Hunger, a nauseating pain;
What would you give up for a single grain?
You strain your brain,
Rack it trying to find a way –
Trying to find a way out of this life,
A life that is dull and grey.

Your soul does not see the light of day;
Your faith starts to shake,
You manage no more than a mumble,
Your beliefs start to crumble.
Concerned, disturbed,
Angry at the world, constantly hurt;
Cornered, perturbed,
Life is but a whirl, with death we flirt.

Cursed, deserted,
We thirst for that which we will not quench;
Dispersed, disconcerted,
The sewers of poverty air their stench.
You pull the covers up to your nose,
You shudder like a victim from an attacker’s blows.
I will devour your soul if it means I sleep with a full stomach tonight,
b Aug 2018
it is so still here.
until the planes
fly over heard. they dont
scare me like they did
when i was a boy.

but boy could they
put fear in the heart
of a youngster.
i never thought
id miss cowering
in the basement.

home will
spit me out again,
freshly chewed.
still staring at the buildings
like they might topple right over.

i will make the world love me
if its the last thing i do.
i dont care how
but it will.

i refuse to be the boy
in the basement.
scared of noise.
there is no crown fit
for noise.
it wears victory
like a python around
its neck.

and if noise could
die i would **** the
poison from
noise until it is but
a snake for the garden.
harmless and certainly
nothing
to go cower
in the basement for.
MicMag Jul 2018
Walked through a field full of llamas
Wooly babies, papas, and mamas
But these llamas were purists
And spat on this tourist
Turning excitement to trauma
"Don't you want to pet the llamas too?!"
"No thanks."
"Come on! Why not?!
"OK, fine."
*five seconds later I'm covered in llama saliva

LLimerick 2:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2619328/llimerick-2/
Next page