#tense
I'm sick and ******* tired
of scraping my pride
down to the bone,
asking for helping,
and hearing nothing.
my life has fallen apart
in three months
after years of beating back
against my tears and indecision.
those that want to, can't.
those that can don't want to.
the fire in my throat isn't half
as searing as the hatred i feel
for the South African tech genius,
searching for waste,
and the ones that failed us.
i carry this molten stress in me,
and i want the worst to happen
to those living their lives everyday
without worry about rent
or food or their car's
impending repossession.
this isn't even a poem anymore,
it's a cry for help.
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 1:52 AM UTC
save the platitudes
for the post-breakdown shower;
towel strewn on the floor,
steam suffocating common sense.
too little to soothe the hate.
stained glass reflects broken pieces
of our souls, a low hum
ascending to screaming
before bursting, limp.
color stands still,
where glass once was,
attempting to rebuild it
more vibrantly, in rebuke
of the damage it barely survived.
before anything else,
know it meant nothing,
means nothing.
arbitrary value assigned
by an unreliable narrator
who drafted this story
out of spite, boredom,
hope, and rage.
the ballpoint is sharpened
against me and threatens
to tear it all away,
like the stained glass,
like your bones.
like all of you.
maybe a poem will save you.
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
Is this how love is smothered?
I am misunderstood
We go at war with each other
Will we lose fight for good?
Again hear bombs exploding
And again smoke fills air
Emotions been eroding
Battle isn't fair
How many times have surrendered
Slipping away from the past
Pulling from the image rendered
Drifting from touch too fast
Everyone moving forward
Can't find strength to lift my feet
Where I am stay not speaking a word
We make-up
Incomplete
Never afraid to say how you feel
You don't like it reinvent
Feelings are not meant to be sealed
Here if you need to vent
Energy gathered great and wide
Horizon bright where we stand
The new storm starts brewing inside
Working it's way through the land
Deep colors found above in the vast sky
Shades compressed into one
Emanating a beam from up high
Outlines traced with sun
Life came warming bodies slow
Electricity poured through our veins
Muscles rested to properly grow
Took eons just for force to regain
And heart discovered independence
Still yearned for what we had before
Longing I felt restless and tense
You didn't need me anymore
May 1, 2024
May 1, 2024 at 1:08 AM UTC
Mother knows best,
but I've put
this ink
on my skin as
a reminder
that I am
not the
child who
died in that
House.
I was forced
to build a
place where
I belong,
and now that
I've Finally
created a place...
you want me back.
But I am
not the
child who
died in that
house.
I am a
woman
now,
Mother.
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 2:32 PM UTC
Making you up in my dreams
Is better than reading memes
Cashing out earnings
Or even visiting inns
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 7:10 PM UTC
I played with all the tenses
but that also never changed what
was
is
could have been
or
will be
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
Sometimes I can't pick apart why
Why I choke on the bitterness of my own hurtful words
I want not to see you, but I can't imagine life without you
Why when you enter, my being goes rigid
Like a wooden board that won't snap, but will hurt when tempted
Both you and the board
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
The air lays still and lifeless giving no leaf a need to care,
No sound of passing traffic or kids laughter in the air.
Everywhere seems silent as if the world has lost its voice,
Even birds seem silent, bereft of song as if without a choice.
So eerie and pervasive is the silence right there outside my door,
Shouting aloud in its hush change to all things that went before.
Long periods of empty air, devoid of usual sounds I once ignored.
Leaving silence etched in mind where fear has seared and scored.
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
It moves things,
pulls them back
with only the slightest change.
All it takes, "is" to "was",
to curve the timeline,
subtly, but definitively,
turning great things,
great people,
to memories.
Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 7:35 PM UTC
Today is tomorrow,
For now does not exist.
It passes way too quickly
For anyone to catch a hold of it,
So now is then,
And then is in the past.
Time passes too quietly;
Words are no longer sufficient
To appease the gods that control it.
They decide when time stops
And when it runs away.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
Yes your absence hurts me,
But your presence comforts me more.
.
Yes your smile makes me happy,
But your tears tense me more.
.
Yes your dreams excites me,
But having you in reality makes me blush more.
.
Yes I know you love me,
But you don't know that I love you more.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
So our soul is-
Another usage in perfect usage,
Or
An emotional usage using a physical body,
Or
Is it a living context, living in a functionality,
Or
Hard-Drive experiencing myths of an era
in
Today, tomorrow and maybe our future.
©Feelings Coated
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
***
***
~
I cannot pretend to be something
I already am...
~
***
***
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
There’s a little girl sitting alone,
there's a war in her family,
there’s a war with her friends,
and there is a war in her head.
she wants peace
because all of the wars in her life are on and off
and everything is falling to what she never wanted
what she never wanted was a war
but there is a war that is making her fall to the ground and the ground is only what has kept her standing.
but even at times floors can break and people can fall through.
Because there is a little girl sitting alone,
and there is a war in her family,
a war with her friends,
and there only ever was a war in her head.
And she doesn’t know what to do.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
We determined our future in a game of M.A.S.H
but the outcome we could never measure,
and you know what they say about one person’s trash
it ends up being someone else’s treasure.
My eyes are black and blue,
bruising that came from you.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
I sewed my mouth closed, next time I think I’ll use glue.
Her heart strings were pulled just too tight,
they would snap and break with any given pressure.
And she could never hit the notes just right,
but one person’s disdain is another person’s pleasure.
My eyes are black and blue,
bruising that make up shows right through.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
We played every board game but never stopped with clue.
I’ve never been one for odd numbers
unless it’s the number seven.
Numerology really makes me wonder
is there a mathematical equation to heaven?
My birthdate became a date of rebirth
as every year I killed a part of myself,
it’s not that I believed myself to lack worth,
it was just a challenge to see if plastic happiness could bring health.
My eyes are black and blue,
representing every shade and hue.
Like a serene painting of morning dew.
I’ll keep spinning it until it becomes true.
“He was a painter who only painted in red.”
There’s that connection between art and bloodshed.
I hang all those pictures on the walls inside my head,
‘cause they’ll never match the colour of the room with my bed.
My eyes are black and blue,
but even the swelling can’t block my view.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
I’ll have to accept there’s somethings you can’t construe.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 12:21 AM UTC
Isolated I stood at the shadowed corner
illuminated only by the street lamp
across the decrepit road.
Deafeningly silent I sat perched
at the bench awaiting my vessel
to deliver me.
Coyly he drifted into my universe
wearing a cloak and a smile
that would charm a Queen's guard.
Stiff like a board I stared at him
existing at a medium between
the end and the beginning.
Puzzled I was at a loss of how
to approach this drifter and his
exceedingly charming demeanor.
Thunderously my heart thumped
waiting anxiously for my vessel
that could not come soon enough.
Do I dare succumb?
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
A coconut grove
With one tall wind turbine.
The wind blows amused!
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
few eyes took a look
few eyes took a look
they weren't inclined to view
they weren't inclined to view
eyes weren't inclined to look
they few took a view
last week many would stare
last week many would stare
at what was there to see
at what was there to see
many would see last week
what was there to stare at
optics will become tense
optics will become tense
focusing on a thing
focusing on a thing
optics focusing on a thing
will become tense
few eyes took a look
at what was there to see
focusing on a thing
last week many would stare
optics will become tense
they weren't inclined to view
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
Lost in the glow of the eyes (Past)
The World, I don't really care (Present)
Wish for amnesia (Future)
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
I liked him; he liked me.
That’s the big problem: it’s all in the past
and nothing can be done
to conjugate the verbs
or change us at the present.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC