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TorturedPoet Oct 30
pay more respect to the women working at morgues.

they tend to the dead
it takes sympathy
it takes care
it takes courage
it takes control

not the control of fear of stray souls
not the control of fear of phantoms
but the control of wanton

and that is why men aren't hired by morgues.
My first poem here... :)
This is actually inspired by someone on the net saying that some morgues in their city did not hire men due to....yk
My Dear Poet Mar 13
“It’s a dandy of a day”
I heard her say
as I hooked my charm
into her arm
She sighed,
with eyes half closed
a ’Gone With The Wind’ pose
and ‘mmm’ for a hum
we locked our kiss
and kissed like this
till our mouths were blistering numb
we made kissing an art
till ’pop’ went my heart
for the day had only begun
******* on a pillow
and fibres to swallow
when I awoke with the alarm
It’s been a while since a poem flowed so freely and simply for me. Enjoy
newborn Jan 2023
eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
she’s cute and she’s cheerful, she leaps around to a familiar song
oh, but eliza has changed
she’s pale in the face
she’s got goosebumps from the cold rain
eyes welling with tears from the salt she poured in them

eliza, she used to be such a joy to be around
oh, but now she can’t keep a conversation without her hands sweating
her nihilistic views cloud her intuition

she’s like charcoal on a whiteboard
she won’t go away, she haunts my every hesitation
she’s blocking my inhalation
she was like a butterfly in my hand
and now she’s ash from blazing land

       such a letdown, such a change in plans

eliza, she glimmers like sequins in the fog
sapphire eyes in hot tubs
but her sadness is her overwhelming weakness
it envelops her in its hurricane
she creaks like old wooden stairs under the weight of her own
she temporarily lives in midnight moonlight sorrow
with weak bones and a crestfallen shadow
burying herself in the emptiness of solitude
the january blues stalking her every move  

oh, eliza,
i miss you
who you were, all that you did
i miss your surefire smile
your continuous laugh
your sweet disposition
your hilarious jokes and the positive halos radiating about your head

now she’s volatile
as wild and insecure as an adolescent child

she falls from the stage onto a bed filled with tears
(she calls it a water bed, she tries to remain optimistic)  
(all she knows is that the rivers that flood from her eyes show that she is not completely numb)

the spring sentiments used to be her constant
she used to have scraped kneecaps and a clueless exuberance
solely a bandage could heal her

oh eliza,
have i taken you for granted?
have i stripped you of your merit,
leaving you gagging and slumping in the rainfall?
your irises were streaked with summer’s blues
now they’re just stained from the blue ocean tears you cried

oh eliza,
what happened to your sheer happiness,
leaving a movie theater with the main character’s personality?
did the pounding in your chest come from the insecurities i ****** upon you with a thousand pounds of force?
i miss your cathartic release, the eclipse of your moon striped body on my bedroom wall directly in front of the place i lay

she’s casted shadows over the bridge she walks across to sabotage her footing
she sits with her mouth open in frozen silence
trying to capture the warmth that waltzes around her

oh eliza,
am i to blame for this destruction?
your lugubriousness now looming over the flowers on meadows you once danced on
i miss who you were, but mostly who you won’t show
the harsh judgement gathered like dust along your body
you haven’t been you, eliza, for years



eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
listen to her song
for her worst secrets are held in breakable silence
i started this poem on the 9th of January and i kept adding to it.

1/13/23
witching hour Aug 2022
time is sand to the gaps through my fingers
air to a drifting feather
a current to the water
it seeps through
it flows
it wipes off
never keeps tracks nor leaves prints
never tangible nor stays still
the closest we can get is a swirl of its moments
the stretched writings of the faint memories
it keeps you on your toes
it leaves you breathless
it never stays as it was
Persephone Feb 2022
If you are ever unfortunate enough to witness her anger. My only advice is this: pray then to every god you know, for your own will not be enough to save you from her fury
jǫrð Apr 2021
I was transfixed by
That wandering eye, a spec
In a cup of milk
The History: That one thing about someone that absolutely stands out, good or bad.
Void Jul 2020
Every day is a gift
And all we do is take

As life is often taken for granted
- JGMC Jul 2020
The world that we currently live in, is already full of monsters. And it’s so unfortunate when humans let go of there humanity for all the wrong reasons and eventually turn into a monster themselves..


- JGMC•¥• ©
- another little piece from my published book of short poems KCUF.STIGMA ©
Jay M May 2020
Seated alone in a church pew
Hushed voices all around
Don't let him hear you;
"Unfortunate"

They say his mother passed
All of his luck has run dry
They say he's the last
Can't you see him cry?

They say he lives alone
Barely old enough
A shabby place to call home
The young man has it quite rough

They say he sits there
Alone in the church pew
Praying for a better life, if an angel will hear
Then he goes, writes for the few
Who will pay him a penny for his thoughts

Can't you see him in the street?
Watch his feet
Slow stride
He's got nothing left to hide
Don't let him hear you say;
"Unfortunate"

They say he wears his father's old clothes
He was the first to go
Down in the ground
Have pity, have pity
Don't let him hear you say;
"Unfortunate"

They say-

"I can hear you!"
He cries, so suddenly,
"And let me tell you what is true,"
"For none of you know me,"
"Or my story, so let me tell it,"
"Not the unfortunate likes of you,"
"With nothing better to do than whisper of my life."

- Jay M
May 7th, 2020
People whispering about someone they've never spoken to, gossiping about someone's life that they never knew about. Don't assume you know someone based on their looks and mannerisms.

*Part of my creative writing portfolio.
july Jan 2020
Once upon a time,

I fell in love

with someone

who also fell in love

with someone else.
i loved you.
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