Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Seanathon Jan 3
Spit it out
And keep a more civil tongue in your head
A more round noun in your mouth
At some point explanations run thin,
-and the truth reveals itself.
Zero Nine Nov 2017
What if I just sat myself in the chair with open ears to silence?
In quiet, would the voices play over and over, even then?
What if I unplugged myself for a moment, no longer?
Would it be time enough to see the vitriol I become?
In quiet, would my love be renewed?

In quiet, would I realize the pain created by hating the hater?
More than disparate views, I hate anger. I hate violence.
The master's walls resist the master's tools, I read it.
Even she, she would despise my guise. "Oh, really?"
She'd maybe say, "Get lost. Be gone." I feel it.

What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
Do I spend my days hiding or out fighting?
What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
What if I want to change minds and hearts slowly?
What if sudden, forceful changes break us?
I think you know the answer -- we're primed to explode

And I don't
Believe a racist, transphobe will ever love me, or learn me.
And I don't
Believe a word, a turn of phrase, deserves a bullet in the brain.
And I don't
Believe for a second that I'm anything but truly naive.

And I don't
Believe that's bad.
Nicole Alyssia Nov 2017
just know,
on the other side of this skin
there is virulence….venom….rancor

you’d be a fool
to take my innocence at face value.
(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)

­Book Soldier
Con Artist
         ­                               Evil
Jumped Up
Nit Picky
Peck Sniff
                                        Self Important
                                   ­     Vile
       ­                                 Zealot
Obviously I have encountered someone who has wronged me egregiously and created the need for this tsumani of hatred to spew from my mind to this page and enable me to function as a caring, loving person again.
I also see the site won't let me list the words in a straight row.  Don't know why some are popped out of line when I hit the save button.  DANG!  Maybe the muse of poetry is trying to tell me something.
Liam C Calhoun Nov 2016
Cold when covers for
Others and anger come a
Door closed; vitriol.
Liam C Calhoun Nov 2016
Cold when covers for
Others and anger come a
Door closed; vitriol.
cassiopeia miel Jan 2016
i'm addicted to destruction, i guess.

wait, let me start over-
i found your journal leaking semi-formed ideas and delirious rants
vaguely shaping your various existential crises
and i wanted to laugh at sharp word, misspelled for dramatic effect;
they never did sound as sweet spilling from your lips like a discordant tangle of noise and statick as they did in the black ink of your low scrawl,
wide valleys stretching between the peaks and lines of your letters like the invisible, insurmountable mountain ranges that kept you away from the rest of the world that your letters run parallel to.
you ran parallel, and we were tangent, meeting once before parting forever.
holding on ***** up the big picture, and boy oh boy, did we set fire to this forest.
the birds have left and the deer have gone; i don’t think anything can grow here again.

but i’m trying not to blame you for what you had to do to survive
but it’s difficult when you ******* tore me open, and that’s not a figure of speech.
it’s not easy to excuse a dragon when you can still feel their breath misting your neck, a fine peppering of acid directly from their mouth,
turning someone into art doesn’t erase your guilt.
yeah, i’m still a belligerent idiot, but you are still a ******.

by the way, a memo from my ******: you’re not seven inches.
you were there, i was there. then i ran and i was gone and then he found me and brought me home with him and now i am safe and you are alone
Next page