#memoirs
As the vampires dance in the night
They sing a tune and that tune
Rock lobster, rock lobster
The chant until the night is done
And the belly’s full of blood
Rock lobster, motion of the oceans
He was in a Jamin a giant clam
They sing hoping to attract more
And fresher meat!
Boooooooooooooooooooo!
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 2:53 AM UTC
Memoirs of dead men;
I wonder of future generations,
Like those I have met.
As to my own destiny,
Why let the question phase me?
This labor of love, that
Life, I wish to live selfless-
And be great, anonymous.
Shadow the dark, and shine light
Radiate through the night
That, of your conscience.
Wakeup, & look around;
This is war, not merely fight-
For all that is just and right,
Stand-up, don't just die.
The fuse is sparked, the fire ignite:
Spread your wing and take flight.
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 5:21 PM UTC
Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church.
Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first.
**** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse,
Never a good thing when i hear from you first.
Be careful what you see,
even salt look like sugar,
Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've,
And not smackin ******* when you know you should've.
People Be like "oh i miss you"
**** i miss me too.
Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru,
You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too,
Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true.
I be business minded when i be minding my business.
And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** ****
Overcame this novocain,
Recasted the impression of depression,
Ring around the rosary,
Never relying on religion.
Im from a home of funny bones
And My elbows been ashy,
I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me,
And i been itching for this platform
If you ask me,
I used to wonder if i was a real person.
I used to wonder like what's my real purpose?
When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes,
When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos.
As a poet i never looked at it this way,
I never booked myself for this reading.
I was overbooked.
I bookmarked my favorite moments ,
I been forever overlooked.
And never understood what "more" ment,
I been overcooked.
The preheating of this season left me bleeding.
This farenheit left me heavy breathin
No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from
- grace -
me with your presence and
These broken promises,
Never been transparent to this degree,
Had to leave that monster house.
That was my American horror story.
I used to be couped up,
Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory,
See mfs want my jazz but not my blues,
They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues,
Yall be Morally incorrect,
....More or less...
Lately i been Moralless,
Need to get saved no church bells ,
Put me on the zach Morris list,
These rhymes be like my confessions,
Front row seat to my ascension,
Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced,
Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives,
I dream in MLA format.
Double spaced a letter to my younger self,
Just some **** I wish i told the older me
A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me,
My OCD be blowin me,
Need all my ducks in a row,
My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo,
Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
The Pandemic in Six-Word Memoirs
“The world has never felt smaller.”
By Larry Smith
Mr. Smith is the creator of Six Word Memoirs.
Since 2006, I’ve been challenging people to describe their lives in six words, a form I call the six-word memoir — a personal twist on the legendary six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
I’ve found that some of the most memorable six-word stories arise in the extremes — during our toughest and most joyous moments. So over the past several months, I’ve asked adults and children around the country to use the form to make sense of this moment in history: one person, one story, and six words at a time.
Not a criminal, but running masked.
— Stella Kleinman
Every day’s a bad hair day.
— Leigh Giza
Home ec: rationing butter, bourbon, sanity.
— Christine Triano
Cinemagraph
Can’t smell the campfire on Zoom.
— Melanie Abrams
Deserted crowded Manhattan, my own island …
— Elisa Shevitz
Eighth hour of YouTube. Send Help!
— Leela Chandra
Cinemagraph
Messy hair, messy room, messy thoughts.
— Lily Herman
I regret saying, “I hate school.”
— Riana Heffron
Read every book in the house.
— Francesca Gomez-Novy
Cinemagraph
Never-ending, but boredom doesn’t faze me.
— Lily Gold
Required school supplies: screens, screens, screens.
— Darshana Chandra
Won scrabble; smile breaks through mask.
— Abby Ellin
Cinemagraph
Tuning out parents, under my headphones.
— Lukas Smith
This is what time looks like.
— Sylvia Sichel
Bad time for an open marriage.
— Rachel Lehmann-Haupt
Cinemagraph
Sun-kissed lips? Not kissed this year.
— Twanna Hines
Avoiding death, but certainly not living.
— Sydney Reimann
Social distancing myself from the fridge.
— Maria Leopoldo
Cinemagraph
Dream of: heat, limbs, crowds, concerts.
— Amy Turn Sharp
Teacher finding inspiration through uneasy times.
— April Goodman
Slowly turning into a technological potato.
— Jad Ammar
Cleaned Lysol container with Lysol wipe.
— Alex Wasser
Cinemagraph
Hallway hike, bathtub swim, Pandora concert.
— Susan Evind
Numbers rise, but sun does too.
— Paloma Lenz
Afraid of: snakes, heights, opening schools.
— Michelle Wolff
The world has never felt smaller.
— Maggie Smith
Cinemagraph
How do you make sense of this moment in history?
Share your own six-word memoir in the comments. We’ll feature some of our favorites in a future article.
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 11:34 AM UTC
you are the biggest part
of the past and its art
that pains my heart
from time to time
this is all mine
i know i sometimes whine
give me a bottle of fine
nothing beats the pain of that line
who says we move on easily
we just live on steadily
accepting and feeling
every inch of the being
Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
Sacrifices of first borne
Or second mothers
carried away by the wind
Always forgotten.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 10:47 AM UTC
Thank you for the memories,
They are all for keeps.
Forever we will cherish,
Even in our dreams.
Sleep tight.
For in God's promise land,
We'll be all together again.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 8:44 AM UTC
A few moons have passed since then...long and cold nights.
And when your memories come by knocking at my door, I let you in to savor you once more, so you can go quietly, without wreaking havoc inside of me.
If I don’t, I will be tormented, and you might think I still keep you here deep inside.
Thruth is, sometimes you come in and I can taste you, others, I don’t even notice that you have come.
D.C.M.F
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
I can hear him knocking at the door
I feel the rhythm of the beating in my chest and head.
It overwhelms me, bleeding down into my core,
my heartstrings hanging by a single thread.
I cannot handle your lingering presence anymore.
I am exhausted from a constant state of dread;
an endless game of tug of war
contemplating all of the things I’ve left unsaid.
Compiling a collection of unfinished memoirs
abandoned and stranded in my mind instead.
He is here, choosing which wounds to reopen into deeper sores
I lay awaiting the temporary passage of this bloodshed.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:13 PM UTC
Take my hand,
Join me in this trek,
Down memory lane,
To relive it all,
And see it a fresh!
Stories told,
May never be worth,
But once upon a time,
We lived the stories,
We were the main acts,
So buckle up!
Wailing children,
Screaming mothers,
Absent fathers,
Mean nannies,
That was my world,
A bit of my life!
Rob or take,
Was the society...
Shots fired,
The police are here,
Let's just watch from the sidelines.
An eye for an eye,
Or just a tooth for a tooth,
With clenched fists,
And clubs in our hands,
How we dealt with issues!
To have fun...
Just kiss the bottle,
Smoke the puff,
Chew the khat,
Make out as you wish!
The paths I took,
The life I lived,
All not worth a rematch,
For in them mistakes were done,
And in regrets we live on!
So this day I choose,
The paths I take,
The games I play,
The people I meet,
For I'm older and wiser!
©Joy
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
*Firelight Affairs & Atmospheric Starlight,
Rainbow Instincts Enlightening Her Satellite Twilight,
Quivering Symphonies & Colorful Voices,
Lyrical Abstracts Of Her Monochrome Noises,
Prismatic Rage In Her Eternal Sage,
Resonances Whispering Her Voices Onstage,
Vertical Ensembles Of Her Ecstatic Fashions,
Witty Odes Enlightening Her Arrested Passions,
Prancing Temptations & Provoked Mysteries,
Entrancing Her Artistic Waves & Surging Tapestries,
Storyteller Flares On A Perpetual Lease,
Intoxicated Mirrors Of Her Spiritual Release,
Lucid Memoirs & Condensed Revelations,
Inquisitive Glances Of Her Cupid Flirtations,
Crimson Armors & Her Reflective Scents,
Illustrious Serenity Embossed In Her Scenic Ascents,
Fluoresce Echoes & Her Scenic Prelude,
Coalesce Spotlights Guiding Her Summer Nudes.
- 01:24AM -*
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
I'm so bipolar.
I can be happy, laughing and playing
Then one thought comes to mind
BOOM! I'm mad at the world
I'm ready to smoke and sleep my life away
Its like a part of my mind made a deal with the devil
And now I'm stuck in this mental war
Positivity and bliss against all forces of Evil
And Evil is whooping *** in here man
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
These Memoirs
Ghosts of the past
A solid reminder
Of what had come and gone
Purple pink sunrise hues
Bright red orange sunsets
Interlocked fingers
And sweet seething kisses
Warm hugs in bed
The smell of morning breath
The feel of your skin
The fluttering from within
The fights we never won
The funny moments we own
The laughter we shared
And the tears I had to bear
You see, it still haunts me
The outline of your face
And it takes all my power away
Just to see you there everyday
Deep in the comfort of another
A peace in your face without utter
A deep calm I craved
Of the memoirs we evenly shared
You see it shatters my heart
Every time I see us apart
You in another man's chest
While memoirs of feelings bleed out with zest
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:38 AM UTC
My mother asked me what was my best and favorite year.
I said 2002.
Because in 2002 I was a happy 6 year old. My father was the only man I loved and my mother was my best friend. The only stress I had was getting up early to go to school.
Money didn’t mean anything to me. Survival wasn’t important. The media was just a loud picture box. And opinions were irrelevant. Just Saturday cartoons and the world being the color baby blue.
From 2002 and so on and so forth, everything started to change. Baby blue was turning to a less charismatic gainsboro; and then a Spanish gray.
Before I knew it. It was 2006. The loud picture box was now a god. 2010 is where Mr. Washington and Mr. Lincoln were now looked as tickets for treasures. Second to last is 2014 where you'd get awarded for taking a **** and then forgotten that same week.
Now it's 2016. Far away from the baby blue. Far away from the pastel pink sunsets I use to gaze upon my second floor apartment balcony.
Tired is now a common word.
Napping is a blessing.
Stress is all too familiar.
And as everyday goes by, the farther I feel from ever having that 2002 feeling again.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
on the spot
wavered feelings
looking back heart aches
for not intended it does
there are times when
we really feel so secured,
happy with that special person
but we just take it for granted
those beautiful memories
the laughter,
the song that reminded us,
& the time
when we fall
but lied
miserably to our self
miserably suffered
love
for cursing it.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 11:19 AM UTC
on the spot
wavered feelings
looking back heart aches
for not intended it does
there are times when
we really feel so secured,
happy with that special person
but we just take it for granted
those beautiful memories
the laughter,
the song that reminded us,
& the time
when we fall
but lied
miserably to our self
miserably suffered
love
for cursing it.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
~~<3~~
My love, do you still remember me?
The vow we made under this mango tree
I was younger then while you were old enough
But in my heart I knew you're my better half
~~
Your face that time, it's painted here inside
After the wedding, we had that romantic ride
We took that road riding on a pretty white horse
You were holding me throughout the journey, of course
~~
But suddenly a storm came while we're on our way
You've loosen your grip, we didn't make our day
A strong wind got me while you were thrown afar
We've been apart, heart-broken like victims of war
~~
My love, do you still remember me?
Two years and more, we're here under this mango tree
Now, I'm tracing the carved hearts with our names entwined
Wishing that like them, you and I have that strongest bind
~~
My love, do you still remember me?
Until now, your memories never set me free...
~~<3~~
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Tu mera dil (you are my heart),
Tu meri jaan (you are my life),
Jaan-e-jaan (the life of life)…
Here I am, awaiting rain
Awaiting a band of colours
To shimmer upon these eyes in pain
To clink into these ears disdained
To delight this mind of fears, memoirs and shame
There you are, it is you
You embody all the colours
Within the rainbow of my imagination
Within the verses of this ovation
Within the message carried in my creation
The power of doubt
Corners me, I wander about
I look at the sky for answers
When the sky’s dropped you down to sing them out
Emcompassing sheer valour
Giftwrapped by your voice so tantric
I’ve come to terms;
There is only one colour –
– The colour of music.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
That day
I'm passing through
Down memory lane
So many memories
Met me again
Whom I hurt once
" I blame
Those I love most
My near,dear ones
As time passed
I grow up
Leaving them behind
I'm in search of Divine
Not of Superior
" that God
It's just money'
That I think my abode
So silly I'm
Today I can realize
But,no way
Now I'm paralyzed
Lying on deathbed
I'm really alone-Written on 31.08.2012,Friday
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
You have imprinted all your memories here,
And now you do not have to at all fear.
You just tell me what and I will not just hear,
With all my soul I will always strive to listen.
You look beautiful in the night lamp dear,
For all the beads of your sweat will glisten.
You look gorgeous with those pearls there,
From your forehead they all are descended.
You appear youthful with those curls there,
Around your ears they all are so nicely coiled.
You appear deadly with those curvy eyes,
Lucky me I'll cherish their charms for lifelong.
You look fabulous with your lips quivering,
Even in my dreams I have not been luckier.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC
You have imprinted all your memories here,
And now you do not have to at all fear.
You just tell me what and I will not just hear,
With all my soul I will always strive to listen.
You look beautiful in the night lamp dear,
For all the beads of your sweat will glisten.
You look gorgeous with those pearls there,
From your forehead they all are descended.
You appear youthful with those curls here,
Around your ears they all are so nicely coiled.
You appear deadly with those curvy eyes,
Lucky me I'll cherish their charms for lifelong.
You look fabulous with your lips quivering,
Even in my dreams I have not been luckier.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
Some blood, there will be
our skin, in these, left behind
diaries held true.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
There’s a key
to open the lock
of the door
that leads to
the alley
hidden from
everyone’s view
old buildings
graying facades
history peeling off
exposing
the strong walls
not many
have walked
this alley
for many centuries
forlorn and tired
history sleeps
memories sigh
waiting to
be heard
the last footstep
that reverberated
into oblivion
lost glory
passionate dwellers
abandoned
for centuries
stripped off
the lights
and long forgotten
switching off
the town’s existence
now only
if one had the key
to walk down
the forgotten alley
history would wake up
to narrate
so many stories
put under
a long spell
an effort to
wipe away its existence
but it soul
still lives
and the key shall be found
to the lucky one
walking amidst history
transported back
to the past
to feel the essence
of this unnamed place
almost wiped
away by time
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC