Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Asher Graves Jul 14
A wise way to speak is to let silence perceive—
Yes! Yes! That is the way to live.
Arguments and violence are the norm,
While the silent ones are obviously a freak.
Enigmatic world we live in;
Society rants status, yet none pass the criteria.
Oh, you've such a beautiful fever dream—
Nope, I’m just suffering from malaria
Everyone's a threat until you get them to confront ya.
Weren’t you speaking volumes?
Talkin’ about how you’d demolish me!
Nope, that’s just my dyslexia.
Even the once stiff Language now follows the belief.
Instead of “figures of speech”, there are “figures that speak”.
They swear to follow democracy! They care only about our currency.
Oops! I meant to say they only care about competency.
I swear it isn’t a gimmick! Oh! you meant to say Hypocrisy.
Well a little dilly dally is fine for such a huge democratic bureaucracy!
Let’s change the tone a bit.
These niche little hypocrites
Care only about positions, propaganda and politics!
You think they care about us?
Sure, when the chicken talks to sheep
which causes a flock of birds to beep, just like when “Thanos” snapped the gauntlet and blipped and none of us got up our seat and raged all over the streets when “Iron man” died on that clip. Welp let me order me a figurine!
These are the things that I’d rather do
Than hear you people preach about bigots called idiots!
(Hahaha No apologies for this slip.) I mean figures! Are you asleep?
Crude words that stick to anyone. Ribbit!
But trust me when I say these figures have powerful latency.
Sure truth maybe a little twisted
Like how dark humour is now everyone’s shtick!
I just bend it so that you too can steal laugh for a bit.
I vent in verses, absurd as concrete truths!
Ahem! I mean to say as absolute as concrete truths!

That feels like a little play fight, isn’t it?
Maybe my memory is rigged but I can’t remember a time
when there wasn’t a confrontation among the fellowship.
Maybe I am a crazy little minx
But it’s crazy how they get to fully live.
A grand life with luxury
That isn’t earned since they were born with it.
Well Excuse me for interrupting a serious topic
But wasn’t there a figure who promised
To build a machine where you throw a potato and get gold on other side of it?
Such a revolutionary idea isn’t it?
Such a great figure with masterclass tapestry
Even Victor Von Doom and Reed paused their fight to gnaw upon such mastery.
Okay back to the topic
Let me remember the times of brilliant dictatorship!
Time when roads were clean.
Homelessness wasn’t a thing.
Sorry, what? You said something?
You mean to say I said dictatorship?
No. I said leadership!
Yeah. That’s what I sai-
Oh! Sorry for the little slip!

Wait a **** minute.
Wasn’t that ‘cause the Poor folks were banned from sleeping
Near the area of regime!
Because it dropped down the housing stocks of the rich
They dropped down a ****** scheme!
I mean that’s understandable, coming from a bloating blob
You’d need a brain to perform a valid thought.

A Nuke of an order to clean the “****” with the machine.
Tragic how standards change
For one of them was the teacher
That taught the **** fool how to act pristine.
Now lost his job so slept near the Bungalow
Until things turn serene.
Now that same tutor is one of the many victims.

None with morality. Not a shred of goodness in them.
All money-hungry, power-driven, slaves of temptation—
Atrocious beings.

Yet we cave in when we are presented with a bunch of choices.
Just for favour or advantage from others.
We play the cards they predict!
And just like how the house always wins.
The circus starts once again.
It's not a party trick.
It’s not a magic trick.
Just a “figure of speech.”

Figures that, you’d speak.
Careful though or you may get the “Slip”.
                                                               — Asher Graves
This piece is a chaotic sermon dressed in satire, stitched with absurdity, and delivered by a narrator who can’t quite decide whether they’re joking—or warning you. Figures of Speech was born from watching the distortion of language in real-time—how words meant to unite often divide, how truth bends until it breaks, and how the loudest voices often say the least.

The poem is a venting valve. A fever dream with punchlines. It tackles everything from political hypocrisy and media theatrics to the decay of discourse itself. The “slips” in the poem—those ironic stumbles and word-swaps—aren’t mistakes; they’re masks peeling off. The more the narrator fumbles, the more they reveal.

At its heart, this poem is about power: who holds it, who manipulates it, and who suffers beneath it. But it’s also about complicity—ours. We laugh, we scroll, we nod, and then we play our roles again. The circus restarts. The machine keeps running.

This is not a call to action. It’s not even a protest. It’s just a figure of speech.
Unless, of course, it isn’t.
Asher Graves Jul 3
Time and tide waits for none.
I wish I wasn’t so dumb.
I feel too much, but I can't handle even one.
I wish I was special, but that won't happen, son!
I wish I was perfect, but this fake pretense makes me succumb.

My body feels stiff, and I break a cold sweat.
I’m not afraid of people,
but my body says otherwise.

That gut-wrenching nausea whenever I leave my room.
That vexing sensation every time I sit to dine.
That suffocating lump in my throat every time I’m yelled at—it shines.
That teary eye every time I had to defend my lines.

I wish I could lead you to my mind.
I wish I could lead you to my mind.

The constant naggings and whispers.
The feeling of never being enough.
The existential dread.

I hate it all.
I hate it all.

Call it self-pity.
Call it self-victimizing.
And I won’t even call you out.

I’m just happy you don’t have to feel what I feel.
I’m just having a random crashout.
I mean, gotta do something, right?
For stayin’ alive?

I’m sorry, but I feel Nervous.

                                                                            - Asher Graves
Sorry for not posting any poems for a while beautiful fellow poets. I was finishing my degree and well now i am free and offically unemployed but hey I can write until things take a turn.
Hope you're having a great day. if not smile okay. You did well. You are awesome.
Asher Graves May 26
Everybody keeps saying how they’d dance in the rain —
sway their bodies, feel the drops,
let the water wash away their pain.

But I say —
why romanticize what you barely understand?
You sing to storms like they’re songs of healing,
but don’t you know?

Rain is sorrow.
Rain is memory leaking through the cracks.
It’s the sky mourning something it lost,
not some magic meant to set you free.

So when someone smiles
and whispers how much they want to dance in the rain,
I look away and answer softly:

Everything but the rain.
                                                  -Asher Graves
I get sad when it rains! and I really liked "Everything But The Rain" which is a reference! Do you get the reference?
Asher Graves May 22
To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.

It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.

Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.

Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.

Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.

Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.

Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.

I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.

Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.

I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.

But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.

Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.

For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.

Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
                                                             -Asher Graves
Was scrummaging through some old notes and found a poem I wrote two years ago. Thought I’d share it here—funny how words from the past can still echo in the present.
Asher Graves May 15
I wish I could cry, but I feel no tears.
I wish I could try—just slowly speak my mind clear.
I wish I didn’t have to explain myself every time I feel fear.
I believed those who know me would understand—
but that was a failure.

Here I am, sitting in quiet despair,
while a stranger understands my dilemma—
and no words were exchanged there.
                                                                   -Asher Graves
I wrote this piece while reading a poem on Wattpad by lina_ledovskaya. Her writing really struck a chord with me—raw, emotional, and beautifully crafted. If you haven’t read her work yet, I highly recommend checking it out. You won’t regret it.
Asher Graves May 7
An approach is a sentiment, not a calling of divine.
An opinion is valid only and only when one doesn't step out of line.
A figment of thought, a pristine smile—
Words are mere thoughts until one makes it worthwhile.

A question appears though? Let me put in some light.
Why do people make it a hot topic when it's not even their life?
Why make comments on what a person should do
If you're not a part of their day-to-day view?

Why act all Saint-like while you belittle them, causing strife?
You lack the basic mannerisms, yet have the audacity to lecture them on rights.
You play the role of a perfectionist, yet you've got so much to hide.
You judge everybody while your own personality has nothing that shines.

Yet, you have the gall to ridicule someone who spent their entire life
Confined to a few meters of land, day and night.
Complaining they don’t provide the family with basic things—
But look at how much they work every day, without help from anyone.

Why does that not come to light, huh?
Making a mockery of them, manipulating others with your lies—
When they did nothing wrong, yet they have to put on a brave face and take it all in,
So that the family stays, despite the brutal conditions they are in.

Not like you’ll ever understand the genuine good in plain sight.
Because of people like you, they can't even take a break, much less a vacation with loved ones.
You're always there to critique their work for a fun laugh—what a dreadful sight.
Yet the people only believe what you say.

Such is this era, such is this life.
You play victim, and the victim gets the dice.
Once again, they're thrown on the same pedestal of hate and loathe.
But now they've lost the sense of fright,
For this is yet another day in their life.

A tragic tale that is very much alive,
A tale to which this right-preaching society turns a blind eye—
A tale of Pride & Prejudice.
                                                                                      -Asher Graves
This piece is inspired by a real-life event. I know that alone is enough, but I still hope people read this and truly understand the grief and suffering of those who live through such experiences.
Asher Graves May 4
I set track with this map of mismatch
That just tracks, and it stacks, and its lax,
On everyone — yet it drains, and it saps
The codex, the freakin’ stats of anyone who fights back
Try to relax, take a sip, but they snap
When I’m sad, like it’s bad, like I’m whack
Like I’m trash yet have the audacity to
bid no eye, and just wave and goodbye
To the ones who just **** up to you while I’m passin’ 'em by
And it’s always just them, and them, and again
And again and again man it pains me to bend — even then
I’m denied to take a stand, but ******* — enough is enough
Of this band — I’ma snap, I’ma crack, I’ma jest, I’ma Laugh
I’m this far away from the end of my thread
But I swear on the pain that I won’t let it end

For The years of torment, and the pains I couldn’t vent
You’ll feel till the end so just relax and repent
These verses are godsent, You fools better flinch, better **** in your pants.

And since birth, I’ve been cursed with this curse to just curse
And blurt this berserk and bizarre **** that works
And it helps in itself, it’s relief in the tension
That’s seepin’ through these sentences, stress in extension
That’s been eatin’ me recently off of my chest
And I still can’t even rest peacefully
No patience is in me, and if you offend me
I'm liftin' you ten feet in the air
I don't care who was there and who saw me, just jaw you
Go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit
I'll smile in the courtroom, and buy you a wardrobe
I'm tired of all you
I don't mean to be mean
But that's all I can be, it's just me
And I am whatever you think I’m not
If I wasn’t then why would I say I’m not
In the paper, the news everyday’s a ****
Everything I’m not made me everything I’m
                                                                    -Asher Graves
This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but could never quite get down — until last night, when I just let it all out. This piece is a thank-you to Eminem for inspiring me, for reminding me that no matter how dark things get, you don’t give up. I know this doesn’t touch the original, but it’s written as a tribute — a homage to the man who lit the fire. All respect and credit to him
Next page