Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
It is horrible keeping a secret from a loved one as each day passes by,
The depth of the pain runs deeper each time I lie,
As I look into your eyes,
In my head I say, "I Love you and I am sorry."...
I am sorry for the lies that I have to keep spewing to you,
But I know you...I have known you my whole life,
And the facts will cut through your heart like a searing knife.
So I continue to cloud your mind to keep you at ease,
Because it would literally **** me to watch you cry on your knees.
I do it because I love you and you are everything to me.
And I do it because I appreciate everything you have done and given to me.
So I will continue to do things that I know in my heart is not right.
I am not a saint nor a devil, but I will continue to be your bright and shining knight.
I wish there was an easier way to my real life story,
Therefore again I will say, "Mom I love you and I am Sorry."


{RP}
Life is a never ending game of crucial decisions.
It is like whatever path you choose
there is a trap ready to squash whatever idea you may have had.

So basically we are born into this world to grow up, learn to survive, and work as modern day slaves save up for retirement and die. Yes we are all promised a graveyard, but yet we can not live the way we would like to due to repercussions of laws we have to follow.

Also during this got dam amazing so called mother ******* "Free Life" It is in my best interests to find a woman to love, for the rest of our lives while producing the next generation of modern day slaves.

I must say Bravo! This nations government keeps so many things under wraps just to keep the people somewhat satisfied while still eating their fill.

Back to me ranting about love in this generation...Ha! it is a mother ******* joke. Attractive women want attractive men which have a job, a nice car, some social status, and is financially stable. Ok all those things I mentioned yes are Great perks, BUT!! 99.9% of those guys lack sense of humor, they could care less about your feelings, are very likely to cheat on you in the future , AND are with you because you are attractive and/or have all these great perks I mentioned that women look for.

It is truly sad because it looks like it is getting worse as the years pass by. I know exactly who I could have a great and fruitful life with and I could be everything she had ever wanted and more! But of course My physical image is not what she wants so she will continue to be oblivious and will continue to get her heart broken time and time again. If you are reading this WAKE UP

{RP}
*The Rogue Poet
<3
As I look into your eyes I see a story unfolding before me.
I see the regret, pain, and the decomposing of faith burrowed in you.
But that is only the outter layer.
You have not realized your true place in life.
I see that You are truly amazin and are indfinitely strong.
You motivate me to be strong and to keep my faith  as well.
And I can see myself with you for an eternity.
I would cherish every waking moment with you
and dream every second of you.
Be there for you through the pains and aches
And be there til your last birthday cake.
I want to see every chapter of your novel unfold
because I want to be in every one of your stories.
I'm willing to take the good, the bad, and the ugly for and with you.
I promise not to hurt you or desert you
and even if our heads collide ill still stand by your side.
All I ask is that your honest, and loyal as I will do the same.
Just know the way I feel about you has no set date or time frame. <3

{RP}
i don't understand
how is it so easy for you to get over me?
i thought you loved me
you lied
didn't you?
you fooled me
you pretended to be different
you pretended to care and love me
when you knew you only wanted to use me
why would you do that?
haven't i been hurt enough?
everyone in my life
who i tend to fall for
always hurt me
is it me?
it is,
isn't it?
i'm not worthy enough for anyone to truly love me
but in order for you to get what you need from me
you have to lie..
but you could have just told me the truth
but i guess you figured i'm used to being hurt
so it wouldn't be anything
right?
WRONG!
you actually made me fall for you
i fell for you harder than i fell for anyone else
and then you left
just like that
as if i meant absolutely nothing to you
but i guess i didn't
because then it wouldn't have been
so easy for you to leave me..
when will i find someone
who truly loves me?
when will i find
the one? //
Before you came of age
Rotten pallid arm wings
All of your green monster soup breath
You were quiet. The little arachnid.

Surprised to have been the queen
In the windowless room.
When my heart beats black inside my chest, and the days I have are filled with death, and the girls I know won't walk with me, then I have my choice in misery. All the birds have died, and the plains are dry, the skyscrapers aren't lit up at night, and the city's sound sounds like nothing, then I have my choice in suffering. People talk a lot, but they hardly speak, all their voices creak in the summer streets, everybody walks but they're not moving, I try to only observe but then I start screaming.

I ******* hate the way that you look at me, your skin's so ******* clean that it feels *****, your eyes move around but you're not seeing, the way I hurt each day but you say nothing. If I tried to leave you might be happy, so I sit and be and go out at night and cheat. I would break your heart, but it hardly beats. You're my walking dead, my darling zombie.

Each day is second rate, I bore so easily. It's like the day we met ended your pleasantry. I startle all the time, you seem so unaware. I chose you number one, you chose to not even care.

I caressed you once, and undressed you thrice, you abandoned me in the middle of the night. All the time I halved, you had your own account, of every thing we did, it wasn't the right amount. Now I hardly care about the drugs you're on. I'm quoting blasphemy out of every psalm. Even the words I write don't tell half of the truth, about the way I felt chasing after you.
Written for Britni West
She had stopped crying.
All evening in her black-mesh coup de voodoo.
On the plane she had been crying
For her Summer pal. Yesterday she had been to market
Big brown bags and white bags, little pink bags filled with crimsony scents,
Capricornia, looseleaf newsprint, postcards, and colored pencils,
She had hands full of handles, bags bundled, stitched in strict Saturday fashion.
He could barely break a step, he could fake dance with her feet on his tip toes.
She was only three quarters the perfect size to fit inside his frame.
The grand disappearing act. And she was only ifs and suicides.
A stranded ray of sun-draped hair on a cooly porcelain forehead, the segments were all just wrong,
Something so wrong, trembling heart cries over a mute coo through a flattened tongue.
The sickle tongue, dodgy on Tuesday's, She had a simple mug, oh! But so cute and soothing, the nape
That wrapped around, my arm lapped its hands in a clapping ginormous duck's bill!
Lapping rhythmically. Thwack! Thwack!
Like no crying I had ever heard. Nor Earthen beauty I had never seen.
Her little lamb legs lumbered over, her awkward thinness and long limbs spilt on top of her,
Her tiny shoulders searching for support from her hips. White aurulent doll head on a stick,
She had sad defeated eyes, whimpering, pathetic,
Too small, and she shuttered and she shook,
And she shivered out every teardrop her body ever made. And she fell back on her bottom, and looked
Up as if to see a white steed standing with her guy striking a poised hand down to her,
He split down the middle, stammering, broken pieces of words crumbling out of his mouth
With eager intentions. He was too weak
To give her his feet, or pull her up in, he hadn't the gumption. He was fully occupied standing,
He wept too; then shuffled a little
Towards where she had fallen. He knew she wasn't right
She couldn't get the devil out of her piercing blue pupils, she couldn't
She lied.
Then she just piled on top of her knees and fumbled as if to rise like a demure lamb trying to rise off its Newborn legs, she just curled her legs,
So stiffly built, and narrow footed, built with such inequality to her siblings,
She got in the way of herself, a little lamb that could not manage.
Too whittled for him, he tried, he really tried, but three years had drained his strength, no real help.
When he sat her upright on her bottom, she opened her eyes, and for a moment smiled, grabbed for His hand but then after awhile she was lost, she lost interest, her pupils wandered.
He was orchestrating everything.
A real project, much more urgent and important. By nightfall she could not stand. It was not
That she couldn't smile or laugh or love, she was born
With everything but the will to live -
That cannot be destroyed, just like a love.
Melancholy was more important to her.
Life could not get her attention.
So she died, with her handles still in her hands, green grass stains her legs.
She did not survive another warm summer night.
And then he wept uncontrollably again.
"The wind is oceanic in the elms
And the blossom is all set."

2

The boy has come back
From the seashore, and atop the plateau.
The woes of women are like a genocide
In the morning, when the killing is over,
And the heat begins, and the bodies lie,
And stark life moves for its sobbing bones,
The curved women move with fire.
Father Father Father the girls
Are weeping, and crying and I cannot resist that gentle frailty
They are shucked in their skin suits rising from their soporific slumbers
In decadent leathers and frou frou dresses. They cling to bold faces,
Nothing can escape that cold crying of women weeping for their princes.
Blood-letting rage cannot overthrow the meadow from the pebble brook,
As a laden head bleats its tarnished tongue across a milky breast, it cannot
Escape the sounds of blue-stained teardrops cascading across the plains,
The sounds of woolbirds braying while their skins are sheared against the
Sluicing sound of water rushing through the flume.
All summer they have lamented, gorging on melancholy, tottering their cotton pyramid heads,
Shaking their cries in deliberation, bald skinny victim women screaming out!
Cotton-mouthed clams yaffing, hearts in panic, wholes of bodies clambering in a *** of woe.
They roost useless, pollard and wethered, jealous
Squinting out the last droplets of desperation from their eyes, screaming their mouths in awful
Togetherness, this cacophony of tortured tongue-song
They curdle the last notes of despair out under knotted breaths
With every inch of strength left inside them, they bray this way and that.
Their mothers scream out in wretched despair, ahhh!
On distant cliffs, on scrawny legs
Their stiff pain goes on and on in the September heat.
"Only slowly their hurt dies, cry by cry,"
Whipped bodies toting wergeld on a shore.

The Day She Died

Was the gloomiest day of the new century,
The first of calamitous, unfortunate autumns to come,
The first dying breath from piceous lungs.

That was yesterday. Early morning, soft rime droplets
Frosted to every blade of grass, not like any other
Earlier June day we've ever had. In the deep twilight
The syzygy announced the moon and demoted the sun.

The Earth-crisp frost nuzzled snow droplets.
Black bands of ravens whipping. Martens littering
Fresh kills of red-eyed rabbits on stark white stale
Summer lawns. A fox grayed, its cold bones
Mapped by ravaged feasts. A possum prowling
In a spot of tawny light.

The concrete spread into a maze
Of black veins ripening in the acute niello
Destitution of its widening cracks,

And when the summer left
It left without her. It will have to accept,
In the paley dim light of this vengeful wilderness -
She is gone.
But for now the warmth has not returned but a naked, half-pomegranate
Rotten moon for us two.
And a great vacancy in our memory.
Written for Britni West
You tap my window, I settle
back to sleep but so you think
I haven't got the message, TAP,
TAP, TAP Morse Code for
WAKE UP no time for sleep.

Down more come like thunder
on my window sill, how am I
meant to sleep.

All I hear is a waterfall from the
gutter, as it slashes down a river
of noise is all I can hear. I want to
sleep but you will not let up.

So I sit up tired weary and of need
of sleep, I look out the window and
then for reasons I don't know you stop,
you just wanted my attention. Now I
dose back off  with now gentle
raindrops settling me back to sleep.
It is a temple
Where we pray and learn!

It is an abode
Where we congregate and share!

It is a garden
Where everyone blossom!

It is a bastion of contemplation
Each of us sanctify with thought!

It is foliage
Reflects our friendship and wisdom!

It is a castle
Where we find out our hymn to lead a life!

It is a stream
Still flowing and giving elixir of life!
Dedicated to the days of Indian Institute of Forest Management (IIFM), to our teacher, class mate and fellow friends.
Next page