CJwords 13h
I am the enemy of talent.
I am the enemy of wisdom.

I will not only attack your confidence.
I will destroy your today, your future and your past.

I am the arch-nemesis of progress.
I am the side-kick of stagnation.

I am the master of depression.
Suicide obeys my every command.

Kill me now,
Kill me fast,
Or you are next!

My name is self-doubt.
You have been warned!
Just my thoughts on self-doubt.
When something's seriously wrong,
I've no idea how to tell.
Something must be wrong with me,
I have no warning bell.
Liers, cheaters, chronic deceivers
seem trustworthy and kind.
I'll put my trust in anyone
who bothers to give me their time.
The benefit of the doubt
is a dangerous gift to give.
I see the fire, but still take the chance,
thinking "Either way, I'll live."
Pain seems easy enough to prevent,
signs alert me to imminent hell.
Yet often I turn my head and ignore,
because I hear no warning bell.
Dany 2d
We search seas for rough
cleansing, but
some times, some new
some old,
we search for her to lap away
the warmth in our sun-born flesh,
to ease away the white-hot-heat and frenzy,
till her cold wet fatigue may kiss us full
of calm, of passivity, of loftiness, of sea-foam docility
and to chill our temperment some.
Sip her blessings, child,
but I warn you, her cup overfloweth
and in your wanting,
your pining doubt,
an open mouth spells a ominous quiet,
and a hushed sigh of grief--
for the sea mourns your passing--
or rather, the passing of the warmth
she grasped too quickly at
when your heavy head dipped too low
too weakly, and bright eyes closed cold
and meekly.
Madolyn 5d
we search and we search
pulling and pulling this magical thing
from every living and inanimate thing
stuffed animals
your best friends
blasting music through your ears
and everything in between

we grab and grab
holding onto anything and everything
that makes us feel good
our crutches
our comfort
we give something the power
to make us feel okay

but how easily
this comfort can slip away
or turn into something
addicting and unsavory
so take your comfort
and hold it tight
but realize
you don't need comfort all the time
I tend to get addicted to my comforts, especially now, going from being really sad to really stressed.
Danial John Mar 8
Used                        (used)
U sed us                 (you said us)
E dus                      (eat us)
Ed u sed                 (and you said)
Used                       (used)
Different shit
The afternoon heat hung like a rising fever.
The old iron gates of the school yard wait to swing.
My feet planted near the outskirts.
Sweeping the sticky hair from my face,
alone I wait.

Chocolate melted in my pocket.
Minutes turn to hours.
A gallery of photographs has passed me by.
Panic snickers, searching for your face.
The waiting, the patience,
feeling more like a punch, than a verb.

The chocolate now a sticky ink, staining my pants.
I feel a voyager aboard a lost ship, floating,
hoping for shore.

Sudden without warning,
you grace my sight,
slow motion, near the gate door.
In one swing, you're here.
The wait long forgot,
hung on your beautiful stare.
Prose poem, using a random collection of words.

chocolate, voyager, gallery, sweeping, warning, iron, swing, old, planted, ink, fever, gates, punch, hung, pocket
I smelled like chocolate cake.

Fingers traveled over my hips; softened hills of butter and sugar.

My stretch marks were sprinkles on my belly and my thighs, sinking into my chocolate creme skin.

The dark chocolate icing of my lips uttered “Devour Me” and I was presented…

Scooped by white hands and smooshed into pink lips.

They compared me to Hershey and chocolate milk.

They praised me and uttered everything but my name: cocoa, black baby, my milk chocolate.

I was not what they hungered for.

My melanin was what they smacked onto their lips.

My cotton hair was what they wore.

My history, the recipe that made me, was what they coveted.

To be stolen, erased, and modified for their benefit.

‘More chocolate’ they chant, begging for more.

I am not your chocolate cake.

I am not cake at all.

I am not milk chocolate, dark chocolate, or cocoa powder

I am ochre, sepia, and umber.
I am russet, terra-cotta, and gold.

I am not your fetish.

I was not made to ease your black appetite.

I am.

Not yours.
Writing this was an experience... I didn't even know that that was how I felt till I wrote it down.
Rebel Heart Mar 5
I rewrite myself often
Never satisfied
With the person I've drawn out
I say this only once
And I say it as a warning...
Don't write yourself in me
Or parts of you will get lost too
(Part of one of the longer lyric wall quotes I think I finally understand ~BM)

(Front Page 3/5/2018)
Chris Neilson Feb 28
How did you get to work this morning
indomitable snow plough driver?
when you saw the amber weather warning
did you not turn into Dave the skiver?

I heard you walked through feet of snow
your unyielding spirit is ridiculously brave
in bed with a hot water bottle on the go
is your least favourite colleague, that bloody Dave!

Keep clearing the white stuff, you're amazing
you'll get your reward in the afterlife
while Dave's supping tea in his lounge lazing
your slicing through drifts like a knife

You'll be on the telly later proud as punch
a ruddy faced legend like an Arctic explorer
someone will be watching you on his 8 hour lunch
yes, you've guessed it, Dave the snorer
We have all met a "Dave"
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