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ryn Jan 2015
People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.

They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...

Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.

They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.

I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.

What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.

I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.
A chat I had with a friend made me realise... "What doesn't **** you, makes you stronger..." And I know this to be true... So...

"Be very weak... So you could be strong..."
- ryn

Dedicated to all the broken hearts out there...
.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
Be from the barren sea a cormorant rising
To the blind cliffs an echo of rich tidings

Let loose your ******* world-whirling storm
Brave these conditions risking all harm

Under disconnected stars an encircling dance
Not a poem merely telling such truths as enchant

Flow in the flesh you have made your preserve
From strange and deep intensify thirsts

Best ridden hard these potential abrupt seconds
Drag forth your wings while being lightness beckons

Draw on your bones in marvellous appetite
Be the dream of the harlot  whetting her life

Only then kindle freedom only then fly
Cutting the **** that makes cliffs out of whys

Exist that fall dancing being the Mother means
Survive prosperity       Quiver brilliantly      Sing  !
There are no answers here
Not in your shell-sea home, 
Nor in your native shore.

For that you must seek
Being lost and alone
On your own and turn

from dust, to rain and to dust again.
My son, there are no answers
Here in my speech. Nothing

You seek is here. Forget me.
You must taste the wind
With your tongue and leap -

A net will follow. But not 
in a way you'd expect.
One advice to the grain

Of my sand. Observe
the senses. Let it be.
One is not driven to wanton 

As one allows himself to be.
Nor in inaction move 
to drift as a paper boat.

Unless one carries his own
Weight, no answers will 
Appear clear.

For Papa

27 January 2016
writerReader Apr 2015
we did all
we could and
that's all
you can do, honestly
Right?
September Roses Oct 2018
I need you to know
That life keeps flowing
People miss the big picture
So caught up in tomorrow, they cant see how much it wont matter in a week
In fact by then, they'll have a new tomorrow to worry about

I need you to know that our hearts beat like cellos and our blood runs like ink
That no one has ever had to listen
That the world is still new and there is still so much to change
That the sky still waits for exploration
And so do the deep seas

I need you to know
That people are kind, or they want to be
And bigotry is only a product of parents who are a product of theirs.
And that people who change for the better are reaching themselves
And those for the worse are losing themselves
Because people can change their habits
But not themselves

I need you to know
That we all die
And life is like a solemn orchestra
Serenading you to loss
But never forget that beyond what the music brings
It truly is beautiful

I need you to know
It all deserves the world, every last detail
And that Nocturne No.2 will get you through anything
And that it's all about outlook

As we depart
I need you to know
That ink runs like blood
And cellos beat like our heart
And people are kind
And the world is an adventure
And emotians are art
And art is emotions

Above all
I need you to know
Embrace the world with open arms
And you will be everything you contend to be
zebra Sep 2018
I posted filthy voluptuous poems you should never read
you love starved children of nauseating virtue

always thinking
are they good enough
am I good enough
are they good enough
am I good enough
so goody goody
putting your best foot forward
like empire of the sun
a wanna be picture perfect
of dancer **** love and flexed abs

have you ever seen beauty in a silky nightmare
have you  ever seen the monster of deprivation in heavens promise?

we speak of private things
we should never talk about
about vailed women
and their terrible secrets
and about myself who remains no longer a secret to myself

somewhere i went off the track
like a  daisy chain saw of honesty
to ensure you knew i was sick
a sick **** with a trick
as if i ate some ****** up hallucinogenic' s
making me spill my obsessions all over you
like some weird perfumed *****
down a swirling rainbow toilet
that turns out to be only jelly and whipped cream
wrapped in colored ribbons on cellophane tampons

i feel like  having *** or going to the toilet in public
while waving my hands up in the air
screaming yahoo i'm free
to blow to kingdom come
the temple of normalcy
you know
the church of rose gardens, cemeteries and deprivations
except of course for the sneers, smears
and self loathing vanilla demons
who wear long see through dresses and crosses
like dash board plastic virgins
with bobbing heads
that make hissing sounds about sin

i confess
i'm attracted to the darkest women
strange *******
and  ******
the stranger the better
who shake their butts
like hoodoo enchanted show girls
doing what they shouldn't do
crying and scrying like cooing moons calling
"drink me like ****** Mary
daddy **** lollypop"
all inky tats and razorblade ouchies

or
you can join those
covered in white collared black as death habits
begging the invisible *** cake in paradise
waiting for mercy and a little ****
that never comes
stuck in an empty
loveless bar of crucifixes that only serves up theology

oh baby
***** dreams do come true
pink ****** ***** gladly widen their haunches
like **** without boots
not caring if they go to ****
playin
like a joy ride of fiddle **** sticks
all freaky tongues and tingling licks
thick saliva multi lingual blow jobs
lathering flashing lipped saliva for the squirt  
with fiery wet hypodermic kisses
that make screams
like creamed upleaping lava and ash
for a million hungry sexed up twisting tongues
in occult ecstasy
fecundating shrouds of steamy clouds
in stained red black lighted rooms
with cherub crowned *****
and their drooling snatches buttered ****

eat quivering
like fowl mouthed piranhas
crying more raw meat please
while you drag your perfect person visage
into hollow caves of despair
cold and lonely

so you forlorn love struck weeping
horney pathetic scarecrow
socially engineered robots
if you want love
like heated buttery waffles with sweet jam
just give your self away like slutty putty
to **** criminals and *** addicted pervs  
until
you feel someone swallow you whole
soul and all
and lick their lips
like your their cherry pie

then look passed your
rats nest of pride and exhaustive approval list
and love them back
like free beer
bang their brains out
be their ***** and make them yours
in the mad house of love
of warped shimmering mirrors, straight jackets, and squeezy insertions

and if one day they don't appreciate your imperfect perfection
if they weaponize like critic's
teach them respect
shove it where they breathe
lick your wounds
be brave
throw them in the trash bin of history
and move on

Eros and Venus
take a million forms

look around
your swimming in a giant bowl of broken hearts
hungry mouths, drenched ***** and hard *****

you whimpering little beasts
dress to ****
undress to live

its a movable feast
advice to the lovelorn young
thank you to Lora Lee for the line
" swirling toilet rainbows"
William Keckler Dec 2014
You will probably always
be savage
as a drop of pond water.

The unnecessary magnification
of this wee orb
always reveals monsters -

animalcules -

relax.

The background
is ****-green.

All of life
flows from

our scumminess.
Nassif Younes Apr 2016
Take it.
It will hurt,
Maybe like nothing you've ever felt before.
When you close your eyes
You'll see black
And when you wake up
You'll see
Black.
Take it.

You will feel tempted to fantasise about a world
Where what you think should have happened
Has any effect
On what actually happpened.
Your hair will rise at the seductive thought of hope -
**** it.
Unless it has substance
You're better off
Drinking yourself senseless and purging it immediately.

Suffering is a part of living.
If you avoid it
So too do you avoid living.
Take it.
Use it if you can.
If you can't,
Find a way to use it
And then use it.
Spill your anguish over a blank canvass like watercolour
It may not be fun -
Most inspired things are not -
But later on
It might be
And when you're done
You can stand over all the suckers
Who look back at hard times
As wasted times.
You will stand over the dead petals of your old self
And burst open like a flower in the heart of spring.

And one day
That slightly stronger you
Will get hurt again,
Maybe even worse than the last time
And when that happens
Take it.

This is being
And nothing else.
writerReader Mar 2015
i have loved
deep and raw
before
when my eyes were bright and eager
and i know that
i know now that
i know nothing
writerReader Jan 2015
then my mom
told me
"work out
your'
problems with me
now.
Or do you want
to date me for
the rest of you life?"
mariamme Apr 2018
let's be real my darling;
your life is not worth anything
in the eyes of a selfish man.
the bright fire of love
is easily diminished in time;
and, if we're honest,
for a selfish man,
love is not an entity
that is anything more
than a passing feeling,
a word to say
in sheets of silk and satin caresses
that secure your devotion
your worship
and your skills at cooking eggs
while he takes a long shower,
washing off your love
pampering himself for the next girl's
carbon copy body.
so easily forgotten,
stolen kisses are lauded
in coffee shops and movie theatres
but stolen is still pain
when the romance has been washed down the drain.
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