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Dante Rocío Nov 2020
It has been such a Long time since our last incarnation such like reassembly.

We’ve been scrubbing our United States
and leasing places
as scarification and other humans‘ faces
of stories,
to bless or gargle foreign.

We’ve been to the Neptune’s Fountain to find Young Man Hogan’s bench situated within all those loners’ speedy extroversion,
and catch the Saint Petersburg bell that hitchhiked the church there

to make a glimpse of urbanism and the world’s history replaced
by just one journal
and one fella’s pencil
swerving greatly‏.

Still,
the words are still trying,
flexing,
to fit their whole ends
into shoes they should have taken off
already, a long time ago,
and that‘s this somewhere
where we could say:
crossroads decide their fruition.

And it comes to realisation:
faces,
screens,
bruises,
droppings,
chilling entries,
work,
how I remade the word “naked”of one thousand and one nights
under my tiny silky
cloak
-
it has been nothing but a play
for the day when I’ll write,
and the Life,
that will take on my own skin
one way or another.

One paper corner will meet with the other.

Departures are all eventually just fun geese’s bump in another flight of a night.
How does it feel like to be stranded in a space between the exile from being poems and at the same time fulfilling all the tasks, seemingly full creation of functioning daily?
Duties have been and are strenuous, lots of flocks, yet own and desired by my aspirations’ oath, or rather at times disgustingly expected from apart of you too.
Had no space for that.
But now the game is finally on.
Poetry is my constant patron of its choosing of me and that makes us one.
And I cannot or will ever be killed.
So will It.
rachel martin Nov 2020
The weight of the guilt I have
For the things I said about you before you died
Sit on my chest
Press me to death like a Salem witch.
Every time I drink I indulge in my tears
That I have no right to;
All I cared about when you were alive was vengeance for the way
You made me feel,
When I should’ve thanked you for opening my eyes
And I should’ve looked right through you
With open eyes-
And seen that you were dying inside.
I wrote that you were dead to me,
Not intending it quite literally
Not wanting for awhile
I manifested that for you-
I await my witch trial.
Might delete
Jay M Mar 2019
Fear to joy,
Sorrow to cheer,
How could this happen here,
In my heart,
Once broken,
Now mending,
Pending,
I'll be fine at last,
This won't be buried in the past,
Here we go,
Trial after trial,
Let's see where this one goes.

- Jay M
January 28th, 2019
Fheyra May 2020
...
My Spirit, I dropped
My neck, how tragic!—
Oh, why was I doomed?—
What a shame of love,—
Beset me for living
How poor was my trial?—
That king caught me— Just to be his vice!
Surely, I was a noble queen—
'Til the justice defied me..

Coined by 30 years,— Now deriving for 25 years,
This automatic era seemed haste for me,— Where people work less with limbs,— And more with chained machines
All tenses are verbose,— of such faint vision;— When all the dots meet,—
Perhaps, gallops are faster than wheels.
--...
Whenever I daze in my reflection,
I morbidly feel the bruised mark on my pelvis,— whence Homer penetrated it,— And this slit scar on my nape— of my husband's infidelity
Oh fate, may thou all wrath in flames..

I was not an outlaw!—
Thou all praised a sculpture,—
And smashed it, when it was bore!
Thou bidded swears— To a bedswerver's norms!
My downfall revealed thy disgraced offerings— Traitors!

—My poor, poor queen— Do not weep,
    For I shall be great,— This lady will
    dissect the hypocrites, and clothe
    the faithful—
    I shall be the image of your tragedy
    and glory
    This is the order of my commitment
    I am a ponent;
    I am a defender.

Quote our testament:
"We art the culprits and victims of our own plot. If an admiring rogue invades thy core, it shall weakened thou as culprit into an ever victim— To be held in judgment, and to be both perceived as no innocent."

—The conviction of worldly accomplices,
    This shall be the vengeance of an obsolete sentence.—

Altaira, with me,—
Thou art neither a corpse—
Nor a bit of ash;
'Tis the time for ruling
Your Majesty—
Cheers to the jury..
This is the final sequence! The whole story was about a woman having her past life regression, and in her pasf life, she was a queen who was betrayed and beheaded. The rage of the queen still lives in her body, but her present self knows that she should be persistent to provide justice for herself, and to her country.

Remember from "Rituals and Joviality", the Spirit is the voice of the Psychologist that helped her meditate and see her past life. The "Saith the name of an Altar maiden" line referred to a command, for her fo say the word, "Altar", because it resembles the name of her past self, which is "Altaira".

Now finally, she became a judge in the end.
Justice is served.
Lemon Apr 2020
Something. It was always something.
And whenever it was nothing
That something came crashing in
Amplifying, magnifying, falsifying

Nothing is ever as hard as living
Nothing was ever as easy as quitting
Surviving was unforgiving
Dying was unremitting

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

No one lone thing could change the world
For better or worse, all unknown
Transcendence be the killer of all
Be a hero, die alone

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

A tattered quest
A broken trail
A sin confessed
All’s bound to fail
A heart of stone to anchor down
A heart of gold, a thieves’ crown
A heart of ice to thaw the beast
An injured heart, long deceased

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

A damaged soul, laid to rest
Unforgiving and unremitting
A hero's tale, told at best
Rescript and falsely fitting
Dez Apr 2020
I pray tonight
For thy light
To shin so bright
That I lose sight
Of this earthly plight
And all I see is thy might
Thou, which hast shewed me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth.
(Psalms 71:20)
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2020
I don't want this
To be understood

Just for a while
Can we think of that time?
Where the leaders don't need to
Trial the trust
Every time

I don't understand how they digest
Inedible ****
I don't understand how smartly we are misguided.
I don't understand their blind supporters.
I don't understand whom they stand for.
I don't understand the basis needs.
I don't understand their priorities.
I don't understand
Anything
Camouflage

And I don't want this
To be understood
Either

Being outsider
Jay Nepal
Genre: Observational
Theme:  Humanity above Politics
Author's Note: What if we need the drugs, but are given placebo?
Paper Heart Poet Mar 2020
Physical quarantine
Mental prison
Virus as guard
Who won’t let us out

Travel is danger
Love across borders
Loss of his touch
Rips my heart out

Trial of patience
Mental endurance
Are humans stronger?
****, we won’t bow out!
Randy Johnson Mar 2020
I dumped my girlfriend when I learned I was being used.
She decided to get revenge, I was falsely accused.
She said that when she came to my house, there was no escape.
She said when she refused to have *** with me, she was *****.
She's a ***** and a two-faced liar, I didn't lay a finger on her.
But when I looked at the jury, I believed that I was a goner.
I was wrong because I was found not guilty because of lack of evidence.
My ex-girlfriend became enraged and things became scary and intense.
She pulled out a gun and shot me.
Luckily, I survived after I had surgery.
She shot me in the courtroom and her fate was sealed.
The only thing that she's sorry about is that I wasn't killed.
I was found not guilty by a jury of my peers and I didn't have to do hard time.
My ex-girlfriend tried to ****** me and she's rotting in jail because of her crime.
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