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Desire Feb 2019
so there was this worm…
but there was also a book...
and an early bird…
and a fish hook…
A Worm's Life
Rose  in dust
a rose is nice
Petals are healthy
red dark arch
sun shines hot
Leaves seem (up)right
gazing the height
green emerald
From land to ace
Ace of the sky march.
Rose is nice
Roots in dust
Feature is rouge
Of the shame love trust
Blossoms of the yard.
Yard is land
Land is grand
vast soil of the hand
light crimson band
Wind blows harsh
Fences move hard
Trees far behind
Shake each side
Men come down
The first one talk
The last one mock
Both of whom walk
Touch the soft land
Soil is empty
Land full of soil
Soil full of worm
Worm is sick
Nasty nabid pick
Become lot... lot ...lot
Every day and night
Wind blows harsh
Spring moves fast.
Man is running
Worm is cunning
man in hurry
rose is worry.
worm moves straight
man runs far
seeking new boudoir.
rose is alone
poisonous thing around
soil is shaking
grand land kicking
man sing a song
man, wine, wrong
happy, happy long
wind blows harsh
autumn seize the yard.
rose is sick
petal withered down
no leaves green
gazing to the sun
rose is nice
rose is kind
death moves around
happy stands behind.
Under the inspiration of "The Sick Rose" by William Blake.
cypress Nov 2018
some classify
while others

the decision to root
this thorn of chance
may sadly,
worm the systems

grotesque foliage
will enter through

if one begins to fail badly
and discard
Pyrrha Jul 2018
Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward.

A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis.
Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on.

It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind.

“Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being.

I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way?

“Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!”

The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft.

Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine.
Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life

Morbid torment in the back of my mind,
Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within, bringing me further into the dark.

What would I do without you, dear Loneliness?
You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires.

Why should I not be alone?
If I was meant to feel together,
Then together surely I would feel.

Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine?
How selfish I would be without you holy creature,
Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.
Monachopsis- A subtle yet persistent feeling of not belonging
This is one of the first poems I wrote this year, it's what reminded me of why I love poetry. It provides a place to hold my thoughts.
juan lozada Jul 2018
i love my dad
you do not see it
but that's the way
it is

three hour van silences
are no longer

i am the scion of 4
that's never going to greet him

i know a child
scratches his belly from the inside

i'm in the house of mirrors
while everyone is eating
i see through the
teasing, the
mom shakes her head "no one
can ever talk to you"
i see

my silence as a message:
67 years no longer let you
rush to climb the stairs
to embrace the plush worm
of colors: i do it for you

i do not greet you
but i dress a shirt
with the caption "DADS"
and a picture of us two.
Azrapse Jun 2018
i follow the prettiest girls
the ones ill never speak to
they are like birds flying around
i am but a worm slithering
through other **** like me
they are out of reach
but when the bird gets hungry
it flys down to devour the  worm
they catch us by suprise
and sweep us
off our nonexistent feet
flying through the sky
with their talons
peircing our chests
they eat us alive
Sela May 2018
She is the worm.
The only worm who doesn't want to be a butterfly.
"Is it really needed?"
Why would she be a butterfly.
When she knows she was once a worm.
Why, why do people change?
When others know their origin.
She is not shy to be what she is.
She deemed that God is unfair.
Worm is also beautiful.
It needs to stay as it is.
there’s nothing original about my writing.
I just listen to everyone I’ve ever met
in my life who converse it all away
and have the guts to write it down
with my own eccentricities added
like finding a baby in a dumpster,
a cockroach in the dishwasher,
your car keyed and tires slashed,
a bird maimed on the sidewalk,
a worm in the apple,
your woman gone the next morning
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
The thought beetle.

There is a little thought beetle deep within my mind;
He is going around, searching for a rhyme.
He digs out my unconscious thoughts
And helps me to write another line.
When his work is done, he hibernates
And I sit back and smile.  

The ladybird flutters around inside my head;
She is in search of the pages, I haven't written yet.
She zips and darts, flitting from here to there;
She is always in a hurry and she is a nervous wreck.  

The worm is just turning another corner, in my brain's maze;
He's having a look around, to see if there's anything I need to say.
Anything I forgot to mention; he will find what needs to be said.
The slowly moving worm is lazy, but he is useful in his own way,

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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