#hella - Hello Poetry

The tree By my birth Stood strong To compensate For my weakness The tree Afterward Stood stronger For I was the tallest In my class and my head The tree I loved never Never fell nor waned At the sight of the moon Nor lightning streaming down This tree Stems out my Hefty brooding lungs Stems out my Every ambition Grows from my Red blood and How I hum with Unbelievable strength Out your window Beckoning you to listen to The tree in me

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Apr 30, 2017

Apr 30, 2017 at 6:33 PM UTC

PhoenixBekkedal

The tree in me

The tree By my birth Stood strong To compensate For my weakness The tree Afterward Stood stronger For I was the tallest In my class and my head The tree I loved never Never fell nor waned At the sight of the moon Nor lightning streaming down This tree Stems out my Hefty brooding lungs Stems out my Every ambition Grows from my Red blood and How I hum with Unbelievable strength Out your window Beckoning you to listen to The tree in me

27

Parents of America, free your children! Whether it be your gorgeous son, or your rugged daughter, or your son who isn’t quite sure if she was meant to be your daughter. Beat down the barrier with a baseball bat made of tea sets and doll houses. Don’t let a book tell you how to live your life. Don’t let a book tell you how they should live theirs. You are just as lost as they are when they emerge from their bloodied cocoon. So do not try to pave a road when you don’t know what a road is made of, because when your parent told you it was cement they shouldn't have lied, and told you it was sentiment.

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Dec 27, 2014

Dec 27, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC

robert-ullrich

Parental Guidance.

Parents of America, free your children! Whether it be your gorgeous son, or your rugged daughter, or your son who isn’t quite sure if she was meant to be your daughter. Beat down the barrier with a baseball bat made of tea sets and doll houses. Don’t let a book tell you how to live your life. Don’t let a book tell you how they should live theirs. You are just as lost as they are when they emerge from their bloodied cocoon. So do not try to pave a road when you don’t know what a road is made of, because when your parent told you it was cement they shouldn't have lied, and told you it was sentiment.

15

I was promised alcohol and women, at least that’s what Hollywood said. To think my hair would leave me, my palm, as sweaty as it was when I was 13, and my bed as empty as when I was born.

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Dec 27, 2014

Dec 27, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC

robert-ullrich

20

I was promised alcohol and women, at least that’s what Hollywood said. To think my hair would leave me, my palm, as sweaty as it was when I was 13, and my bed as empty as when I was born.

5

I sit before you all today, Christ deformed on a cross of Whitman and Eliot and Plath. You all surround me with your helmets lined with blood stained papers of past battles, stabbing, tearing, poking and maiming at my ribs with your #2 pencils and ball point pens. You mark me up, carving me up in red and black for all the mistakes I have apparently made. You belch out how you would have done it, how it could be better. Why does that matter? I hang here now, dreading it all. Gazing at my heavenly home, I start to ask, “Father, why do I have to make them love me? Can’t I just exist and be free?” And God thunders down to me, “Sometimes, son, being imperfect is what makes you too perfect.” And with his words, I purge myself of all of the scars and judgment, and I am born once again, anew.

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC

robert-ullrich

workshopping.

I sit before you all today, Christ deformed on a cross of Whitman and Eliot and Plath. You all surround me with your helmets lined with blood stained papers of past battles, stabbing, tearing, poking and maiming at my ribs with your #2 pencils and ball point pens. You mark me up, carving me up in red and black for all the mistakes I have apparently made. You belch out how you would have done it, how it could be better. Why does that matter? I hang here now, dreading it all. Gazing at my heavenly home, I start to ask, “Father, why do I have to make them love me? Can’t I just exist and be free?” And God thunders down to me, “Sometimes, son, being imperfect is what makes you too perfect.” And with his words, I purge myself of all of the scars and judgment, and I am born once again, anew.

18

I lived so peacefully orbiting around your lustrous gaze not a single fear in the world. Then you shone bright and inhaled dragging me in until I couldn't hold on. I spiraled out of control and began to enter you. Tearing me bit by bit piece by piece I had become a husk of my previous self. Slowly crumbling away I realized “This is love.”

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC

robert-ullrich

Black Hole.

I lived so peacefully orbiting around your lustrous gaze not a single fear in the world. Then you shone bright and inhaled dragging me in until I couldn't hold on. I spiraled out of control and began to enter you. Tearing me bit by bit piece by piece I had become a husk of my previous self. Slowly crumbling away I realized “This is love.”

11

Rafflesia god, nestled deep inside my skull, Friend to my hatred. Full of hell I am scorched by brimstone. I am blackened again. Unable to leave my bed of molten flames static blankets me. I lie here hoping that you will burn out some day, Rafflesia god. Flames crawl inside searching for your ugly face but no face to find.

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC

robert-ullrich

Utsubyo

Rafflesia god, nestled deep inside my skull, Friend to my hatred. Full of hell I am scorched by brimstone. I am blackened again. Unable to leave my bed of molten flames static blankets me. I lie here hoping that you will burn out some day, Rafflesia god. Flames crawl inside searching for your ugly face but no face to find.

15

picking up the phone and dialing your number from memory tapping on the beaming LED screen in my blackened and frigid room it sends me into a lycanthropic frenzy I shed the skin of a plagued, maddened hermit and mutate into a gregarious, fluttery seraphim when your “hello” melts through the receiver to greet me it makes Annie Clark sound like a rattled wasp nest when I pace around my room, telling you about my day I feel like I’m weaving adventures together just to feel your warmth through the phone pressed against my oily cheek the clock whirlpools helplessly trying to figure out the time as if it had got caught up in our banter and forgot about its job but even if the clock can’t set the time straight, the sun does when it creeps its ugly head above the horizon, I hear a mumble then a quiet “go to bed” and a “goodnight” and I shrivel back into the saddened lunatic I once was

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC

robert-ullrich

talking.

picking up the phone and dialing your number from memory tapping on the beaming LED screen in my blackened and frigid room it sends me into a lycanthropic frenzy I shed the skin of a plagued, maddened hermit and mutate into a gregarious, fluttery seraphim when your “hello” melts through the receiver to greet me it makes Annie Clark sound like a rattled wasp nest when I pace around my room, telling you about my day I feel like I’m weaving adventures together just to feel your warmth through the phone pressed against my oily cheek the clock whirlpools helplessly trying to figure out the time as if it had got caught up in our banter and forgot about its job but even if the clock can’t set the time straight, the sun does when it creeps its ugly head above the horizon, I hear a mumble then a quiet “go to bed” and a “goodnight” and I shrivel back into the saddened lunatic I once was

16

your words, they have the power to rattle around in my head. but your silence, that has far more power. the power to rip apart my ribcage. extract energy from my body. force waterfalls from my eyes. and spill worries from my mind. i'd prefer your harsh words over your unspoken words.

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Jun 26, 2014

Jun 26, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC

maura

unspoken

your words, they have the power to rattle around in my head. but your silence, that has far more power. the power to rip apart my ribcage. extract energy from my body. force waterfalls from my eyes. and spill worries from my mind. i'd prefer your harsh words over your unspoken words.

11