#bs
Even before 1619 chains and tormentors guided our fate’s
Decisions made by masters of disasters, calamity incarnate
Strict with the lash, fast with cash, made to be last
Ground into mash and left in the past
Hundreds of years drowning in the struggle
Voices ignored and submerged into a gurgle
Each strike an etching of fear to remind of us we belong in the rear
We belong under their heel, we belong in a field
Our place standing as equal, not real
'1865 and the wool is pulled further over our eye’s
The lies fly fast when equality is subject
You matter, you’re worthy, you’re heard and valued
Just enough to serve and just enough to observe
Now they tell me we’ve been unshackled from the hassle
Now our voices are as powerful as the masters
Now actions matter
With my newfound freedom, I looked behind the curtain
Found a sinister grin hiding a truth that leads us right back to where we began
Where my freedom of choice is blocked by the path to move forward
Where my value is determined buy profits that profit from me as a product
Forever a slave to shackles of titles that never really matter
Shackles of false power and influence
Shackles of masters too blind to see the new face staring at them from inside the veil
Forever beaten blue and yellow.
Nov 13, 2021
Nov 13, 2021 at 10:17 PM UTC
Life is a flower
I want to pluck its petals
And taste the metal
Heard the trees falling
Glorious impurities
You found your calling
Cooling by degrees
Don't know which viewpoint I see
Yesterday's headlines...
Sickness of the swine
Fever of the fettered mind
Fits me right to size
Lazy summer days
Give way to scorched Earth evenings
Red bloom carriers
Speak the golden words
Catch the boomerang's return
Old dogs never learn
Dance the night away
No refunding second thoughts
Paper spades in play
Terracotta fued
Running low on rocket fuel
Engines slow to cool
Someday sometime soon
Take a dip in glitter dust
Shaking off the rust
Prospective buyer
Beware the hyperbole
Circle back someday
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 9:36 PM UTC
Can you discuss this with me?
Is honesty anyone's best policy?
Here, truth is no one's friend,
Where does BS start and end?
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 2:33 PM UTC
It would seem my dropping out of school has cost me in loves game yet again.
Going with a lovely lady to the towns hottest club...
How was I to know that the sign outside "Liquor at the front and poker out the back" didn't mean what I thought it did.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 4:40 AM UTC
there is no value in a poem that reads
____________________
____________________
____________________
M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t
just
nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft
seek the intelligent intelligible,
kiss the sensational thrill that
emotion harvests with resonating tenses
that beg our brains to differ, sense
this claims,
there is no value in no words is
a hoax cloaked as art by the weak,
make thy metaphors metastasize,
my every cell, a preposition,
preposterous and precious and
comforting in their
privations and provocations
speak to us in alpha and
line our eyes wide,
with pictures at an exhibition
of a faun immobile and beauteous
let me hang on every word of yours and
let it be the raft that sees me happily
unsafe home
take your bs line poem
shove it down your silent voice
this is not avant garde; this is insulting
p.s. write me a smile and all will be_______________.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
youthful years, now reduced
when right angles were obtuse
find my path of lost tracks
feathered freight in the caboose
falling sand, hour glass
shades the moon from the cracks
'neath the back porch lies the dog
who howls when sand runs out
whispered winds
don't you lie
and try to save my sins
whispered winds
don't you lie
don't you die
dreary days, losing weight
i call out but cannot say
what is wrong, i'm ok
let's talk the ******** fake
fever chills, alone to face
california king's embrace
i stretch out, all my regrets
and dream of an escape
whispered winds
don't you lie
and try to save my sins
whispered winds
don't you lie
don't you die
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
is poetry really something you think about
like, can this be considered poetry?
me, here
sitting at a computer screen
typing words ever so
conversationally
this reads less like a poem
and more like a speech
or perhaps, like a friend
telling you their day over coffee
and I bet right now you can smell the roasted beans
the air, thick with the smell of caffeine, whipped cream,
possibly a cigar or two
and you hear the voice of your best friend
who's telling you about their day
how they had it rough that day
Ben from accounting really knew how to ruin a day, let me tell you
or perhaps,
someone just spilled coffee all over their notes while they were studying
and as much as fifty apologies can mend a relationship,
fifty apologies can't dry up your english notes
can we really consider this kind of stuff poetry?
it's completely free-form
against the norm,
little to no rhyme or structure
no substance whatsoever
just a mindless person rambling about things that seem ever so slightly relatable
is this really poetry?
probably not.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
And if I could cry-
for just a little while
My body would run dry
Tear ducts, like air ducts
I need a replacement
The ventilation is all wrong
Misty and fogged glasses-
Impair my vision
Remove them and I am blind
Blind to the heartache-
the metaphorical bleeding
inside of my mind
Every day the pain grows-
Grows roots, roots that once
kept me grounded
Now I'm surrounded-
by the demons I once
banished
Rip the roots from my feet
and all I'm left with is nothing.
Nothing but darkness
and blank space
Dark and deep
The black hole In which I keep you
Swirls infinitely
I brace myself for impact
the meteorite sets it sights
on my chest
****** target, take aim and
gain flight
Don't miss, you'll regret it
I could be angry, but what's the point?
You're gone forever
and never coming back
© 2017 Christina Jackson
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
Great hallelujah!
Rejoice – a victory has come today!
In the face of society
I managed to fit in
Not one could tell I faked my way
through normalcy again
Rejoice! Victory!
Exhausted, still I made it through
All the vomited “good mornings”
faux displays of real concern
and buried, silent yearnings
Celebrate! Home at last!
Another day of tense smiles
Another walk upon the coals
I’m spent, completely done
I’ve paid my daily tolls
Hiding! Alone at last!
No anxiety of interaction
No pretending to care
No people faintly catching
The way I deeply stare
Into their souls
with jealous disdain
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
B
as in baby
as in babe
as in I adore you
as in be mine forever
as in maybe just till tomorrow
as in not anymore
as in strangers
as in strange
as in
S
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
and now we are here
starring at each other from across a table
a healthy divide between who I am
and everything you thought I should be
all the idealistic pictures you used to paint of the pronoun you exalted as the fantom:
'we'
all the messes we made and the even messier nights are on the table too,
I didn't forget one word.
and I know you didn't either.
and I might be sorry for talking **** and trashing the way you seemed to adopt every part of me
I might be sorry for making you cry that night I pulled away because I was breaking and you couldn't see outside of your own skin long enough to realize what your use of the weight of your skull and who's shoulder you carelessly used to prop it up for no reason at all was doing to me
what it did to me
I know what I did to you, just because I did something for me
I listened to you cry from the bunk bed below alone and tired in your forand now we are here
starring at each other from across a table
a healthy divide between who I am
and everything you thought I should be
all the idealistic pictures we used to paint of the plural pronoun you exalted as the fantom 'we'
all the messes we made and the even messier nights are on the table too
I didn't forget one word
and I know you didn't either
and I might be sorry for talking **** and trashing the way you seemed to adopt every part of me
I might be sorry for making you cry that night I pulled away because I was breaking and you couldn't see outside your own skin long enough to realize what your use of the weight of your skull and who's shoulder you carelessly used to prop it up for no reason at all was doing to me,
what it did to me
I know what I did to you just because I did something for me I listened to you cry from the bunk bed below alone and tired of trying to understand my ever changing disposition
And I too, was tired.
I was tired of you trying to keep me warm
I felt like **** but it ended up okay because you returned the favor two months later at my 18th birthday party
only I had a shoulder to cry on
and I should have seen it then but I didn't forgive you all those times I could have sworn I did
on my knees in the sanctuary begging a higher power to take the anger from me
I swore I never wanted to hate you but **** it maybe I did
fingers crossed dressed all white at the funeral
I always savored your spirals
but I'm moving on from that
and after three good god **** years of on and off behavioral tendencies
reevaluations and disconnects and fear of all that you saw in me
I'm not afraid anymore to say that there isn't any 'we'
at least not in the way you said it would be
and I don't want to pretend that I'm heartbroken over it
though I used to loose sleep at night
I don't want to pretend like there's still something here
moving on finally feels right
as we ******** over a couple cups of coffee I can see clearly that we are not the same and that we will never be
but you just keep on talking about your job and about the road trip that we'll never take and how good it feels for everything to be 'okay'
back in the old cycle of recycling the same five conversation topics trying to grasp at a singular old flame
a spark of the easy days
but all I can think about is how I've changed
I'm not the same
and the divide is clear
but here we are anyway.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
*Feathered head and weathered dreads,
no one comes out to play with me and my imaginary friends,
I promise were lots of fun,
we are we are,
I promise oh please,
come out and play with me,
were waiting to see,
we wait to see your fears,
and all your uncaught unsafe dreams,
fall right apart,
oh it'll be a blast, it'll be sweet,
this nightmare dream is totally neat!
don't be shy,
come eat a slice of america's mini apple pie,
but you're not allowed one bite,
until you come outside with me and my imaginary friends!
we can fake our deaths,
and rob our neighbors cars for cigarettes.
and if we see they don't have any left,
we will just borrow the money instead!
so why won't you come outside with me and my imaginary friends?
but first,
fly yourself on out the front door.
so we can destroy the world.
just you,
me
and my
imaginary friends.*
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
I face that mysterious door,
Fighting my way
Step by step
Through mounds of paperwork
And applications to where I suited.
All for that intangible future
More fresh and striking than anything here
“I will go.”
My future is manifesting itself slowly,
Inexorably and inexplicably before me.
I choose to gaze at my future as infinite opportunity,
Infinite joy spread over infinite possibilities.
As that joy becomes tangible,
It also becomes more finite.
But from where I stand
I see everything ahead.
I can finally leave
Everything I’ve been tied to
And prove to myself, “I am myself.”
(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
And I keep telling myself
I'm tired
When the truth is
I'm exhausted
Depleted
On the verge of
Giving up
And I keep telling myself
I'm fine
When the truth is
I'm morose
Melancholic
On the edge of
Bursting
And I just want you
To call
********
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC