#ruining - Hello Poetry

By Arcassin Burnham I'll never have a dance with a girl that I've Had my eye on since the first day, I'll never see the neon lights and all ball room Fights they like to have in these good days, There's more to being a boy sitting all alone And never being on the dancefloor, But do I give a **** about all those things I'll Never get to explore.... At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom..... So when I hear them talk about the life I've always lost about What to wear and what car to drive, Or if I say I never wanted the same to go through what every generation Has to go through they'll step on my pride, Ain't the **** supposed to be segregated away, Don't wanna live in reality,everything is just a phase, What if I gave all of my time and never let it go to waste, It's funny how life works , nobody will dance with me anyway, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom.

0

Oct 2, 2016

Oct 2, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC

arcassin-burnham

Senior Prom

By Arcassin Burnham I'll never have a dance with a girl that I've Had my eye on since the first day, I'll never see the neon lights and all ball room Fights they like to have in these good days, There's more to being a boy sitting all alone And never being on the dancefloor, But do I give a **** about all those things I'll Never get to explore.... At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom..... So when I hear them talk about the life I've always lost about What to wear and what car to drive, Or if I say I never wanted the same to go through what every generation Has to go through they'll step on my pride, Ain't the **** supposed to be segregated away, Don't wanna live in reality,everything is just a phase, What if I gave all of my time and never let it go to waste, It's funny how life works , nobody will dance with me anyway, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom, At Senior Prom.

23

Destruction is beautiful when you're not the one being destroyed.

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC

kailasha

The Art of Ruining

Destruction is beautiful when you're not the one being destroyed.

2

It’s common in the human race, They helped their son to death. Might as well have covered his face And robbed him of his breath. They gave him everything he wanted The dear child of their hearts. But their bestowal of gifts, a bit vaunted Were about them from the start. The parents wanted everyone to see How well they treated their kid. But when it came time to say ‘no’ They went someplace and hid. They ironed out the bumps in the road So the kids never had to learn What they should do when that road Takes a sudden calamitous turn. So, the kids, ignoring all good sense Listened to their peers instead And started finding external means To fill up the inside of their head. They learned life could be postponed And so could ever growing up. They could find some kind excitement In something rolled or in a cup. And who was there to stop their plunge Into a kind of lost weekend life? It certainly wasn’t their father for sure Or his confrontation-free wife. No, they didn’t want to **** the kid off Because that would mean strife. Let’s just leave the kid alone and watch As she meets her demise over life. It all started out when parents chose to Become their kid’s best friends. So, who was there to teach them things Like hard work and discipline? Who showed them the rewards to be found In learning to postpone gratification When they were sitting in front of the TV Grossing out on mental ************

0

Nov 13, 2015

Nov 13, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

HELPING THEM TO DEATH

It’s common in the human race, They helped their son to death. Might as well have covered his face And robbed him of his breath. They gave him everything he wanted The dear child of their hearts. But their bestowal of gifts, a bit vaunted Were about them from the start. The parents wanted everyone to see How well they treated their kid. But when it came time to say ‘no’ They went someplace and hid. They ironed out the bumps in the road So the kids never had to learn What they should do when that road Takes a sudden calamitous turn. So, the kids, ignoring all good sense Listened to their peers instead And started finding external means To fill up the inside of their head. They learned life could be postponed And so could ever growing up. They could find some kind excitement In something rolled or in a cup. And who was there to stop their plunge Into a kind of lost weekend life? It certainly wasn’t their father for sure Or his confrontation-free wife. No, they didn’t want to **** the kid off Because that would mean strife. Let’s just leave the kid alone and watch As she meets her demise over life. It all started out when parents chose to Become their kid’s best friends. So, who was there to teach them things Like hard work and discipline? Who showed them the rewards to be found In learning to postpone gratification When they were sitting in front of the TV Grossing out on mental ************

40

There I was in my almost clinical white coat Looking like Yoko Ono, oh no, didn't realise it at all. Strolling all around the front square, You in that tan coat stood there, Looking like something out of Harry Potter, I presume. I'd clocked you at the protest a year before, And you fell for me that first day, Early September, leaves not yet falling Me eating an apple a day. It was the last fruit of summer, I was still in love with someone else And as summer became autumn, and is now becoming winter, I honest to god can't tell. I can't help myself. I can't help myself. You in our second meeting- but the first 'meeting'- Acting like my very existence was bad for your health, All this merging and converging like its two countries joining together, I knew that you liked me, in ways you've liked me forever. But I wanted to make him come back to me, wished on a spirit To take him back to me, wished for the truth and- what did I see? The last fruit of summer, an apple tree. I was so nervous, I bit my lip so hard it bled, I come from the Hughes', I lie then, instead. Your red filaments, burning, yearning, twisting, turning, Kissing me and hugging me like you've never wanted to hold onto a thing so tight. I feel like a wild horse penned in, flying by night. Because I know that you're mad about me Honest to god I wish I was too, But I don't understand what stops me from letting go and loving you. It was the last fruit of summer, The final kiss from the earth, I wore all black, you in florals Me not knowing my worth. I want to take it slow, and you agree, You'd agree to anything I want because it's me. You and your artistic set, fashion-obsessed, Everything I could ever want, everything you could ever spend. But nothing that I really do want, in the end. And I ask for the truth, to the apple tree, I tell them- oh god- is this ruining me? I cut it and eat it piece by little piece, 'I can't help you, darling, so just sit back and eat.'

0

Oct 27, 2019

Oct 27, 2019 at 6:45 AM UTC

babe

The Last Fruit of Summer

There I was in my almost clinical white coat Looking like Yoko Ono, oh no, didn't realise it at all. Strolling all around the front square, You in that tan coat stood there, Looking like something out of Harry Potter, I presume. I'd clocked you at the protest a year before, And you fell for me that first day, Early September, leaves not yet falling Me eating an apple a day. It was the last fruit of summer, I was still in love with someone else And as summer became autumn, and is now becoming winter, I honest to god can't tell. I can't help myself. I can't help myself. You in our second meeting- but the first 'meeting'- Acting like my very existence was bad for your health, All this merging and converging like its two countries joining together, I knew that you liked me, in ways you've liked me forever. But I wanted to make him come back to me, wished on a spirit To take him back to me, wished for the truth and- what did I see? The last fruit of summer, an apple tree. I was so nervous, I bit my lip so hard it bled, I come from the Hughes', I lie then, instead. Your red filaments, burning, yearning, twisting, turning, Kissing me and hugging me like you've never wanted to hold onto a thing so tight. I feel like a wild horse penned in, flying by night. Because I know that you're mad about me Honest to god I wish I was too, But I don't understand what stops me from letting go and loving you. It was the last fruit of summer, The final kiss from the earth, I wore all black, you in florals Me not knowing my worth. I want to take it slow, and you agree, You'd agree to anything I want because it's me. You and your artistic set, fashion-obsessed, Everything I could ever want, everything you could ever spend. But nothing that I really do want, in the end. And I ask for the truth, to the apple tree, I tell them- oh god- is this ruining me? I cut it and eat it piece by little piece, 'I can't help you, darling, so just sit back and eat.'

43

A surreal landscape, A elegant bend of the river, A small pebble taking shape For us its now or never. A song once sung By the chirpy sparrow, The grass where we belong Now captured by the hollow. Somewhere far away Few words get scribbled Few tunes get murmured, Wrinkled faces prayed But on the yellow sky, The sun faded and faded...

0

Oct 26, 2018

Oct 26, 2018 at 4:06 AM UTC

sourodeep-chakravarty

A song once sung

A surreal landscape, A elegant bend of the river, A small pebble taking shape For us its now or never. A song once sung By the chirpy sparrow, The grass where we belong Now captured by the hollow. Somewhere far away Few words get scribbled Few tunes get murmured, Wrinkled faces prayed But on the yellow sky, The sun faded and faded...

14

Sticks and stones may break my bones but a knife in my heart kills me. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When life gives you lemons, it means life ran out of mangoes. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The early worm dies to the bird. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - People in glass houses laugh at strangers who stand soaked in the pouring rain. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Don't count your chickens before they've hatched because they are all probably dead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - They built the fence to prevent you from seeing the greener grass on the other side. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If silence is golden, then is speaking up worth dirt?

0

Apr 17

Apr 17, 2026 at 8:50 PM UTC

daughterofthestorm

Fragments of Childhood

Sticks and stones may break my bones but a knife in my heart kills me. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When life gives you lemons, it means life ran out of mangoes. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The early worm dies to the bird. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - People in glass houses laugh at strangers who stand soaked in the pouring rain. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Don't count your chickens before they've hatched because they are all probably dead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - They built the fence to prevent you from seeing the greener grass on the other side. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If silence is golden, then is speaking up worth dirt?

33