Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetry
      is
a speaking art
I paint my daily pain
With my heart and cane.
Tears, sorrow
for someone having no tomorrow.
A hopeless man
Striving to **** his inside pain
But in vain.
Wars, hunger and lack of rain
Men and women turned insane.
For whom the bell tolls
For you and I
I sigh
They cry
Because of your lie.
Which identity
Are you talking about
If our world is full of absurdity?
Which mask shall I wear
If your face doesn't care?
I need to know
Why don't I show
Who I am
If my birth came out of a drop of
***.
I am neither your future nor their
past
I am myself. ****!
That never cares about your
Beating drum.
I stand on my mind and
Not my ***.
My identity is  a mental entity
Faraway from
Fake power or celebrity.
I am myself.
‪I cannot wish the pain away‬
‪When you had to go and couldn’t stay‬
‪My heart could not bear to be alone‬
‪Now quiet inside my empty home‬
Walking down an empty hallway
Leading to empty rooms
I had inhaled all your essence
I was overwhelmed; consumed
A pilgrimage towards disaster
To eradicate my woes
With a bandaid for my heartache
As you made your choice; you chose
I feen to stream in the essence
Of your magical masculine musk
Swathed in your astonishing artful aura
My ardent hypnotic heart-throb
You enthrall the softness
Of my fresh earthy body

Lock me in your exotic, spicy hotness
Your highly scented
And tempting dimension
Brimming with manly enchanting romance
Envelop me in your palatable
And wholesome dopeness

Make me drown in
Your high-powered top-flight fineness
Make me immensely frenzied
With your sinfully thrilling sensuality
The way your captivatingness
Emblazons my gayness

You make me greatly blazed
Heavily stimulated
My hormones racing rampant
Crazy hot sensations amplified
So enamored by your fervent
Earth-shaking splendaciousness
I'm Eeyore. A dark cloud's
hanging over me, raining wine and
poetry. I won't leave the house. The sun
doesn't rouse me. I can't even leave

my bedroom. I'm so drowsy. Every day
is the same, lousy. Pulling the blankets
over my head, sinking in as a hibernating
bear. I'd like this year to disappear. It's a task

to brush my teeth, wash my face,
and join the human race. Men tell me to snap
out of it. Look at the bright side of things!
Count your blessings! But I'm a slug. And this

world is a treadmill looping around
and moving the ground under my feet. Colorful
collage of mixed messages scrambled together
that I can't encode. Slipping through my hands
like a muddy toad.
Next page