"agh" poems
I want it so bad
Never going to quit it
Flip the switch and hit ignition
Toss these hands I talk in all ten digits
**** wishing - let me finish,
Raw- dish it out the kitchen
Saw- vision now they listen
Off an opp and take position
Never in my life did i think i'd make it
Fight, take it
Might bend to vice
Been in sight, fend or die breaking
God I know you hear my pain
Twisted system call em' viens
Wicked lifted off the reigns
Vicious gifted follow flame
Agh! I'm a savage, a beast
Murdering beats, I read it and weep, God
Looking to thee, God- never going to stop watch
Put 'em em a lock box.. one shot
So sorry, not the man you needed
On my knees I don't believe em'
Read between I'm not deceiving
Split the means I mean
Never in my life did i think i'd make it
Fight, take it
Might bend to vice
Been in sight, fend or die breaking
God I know you hear my pain
Twisted system call em viens
Wicked lifted off the reigns
Vicious gifted follow flame
Hope I can say something worth a ****
Hope I can change something understand this
Pressure pinning me down
Picture myself under the ground
Taking leaps and bounds
Can i stand it be without
Peaking then drown - **** it all
Speaking my meaning - Hear me now
Never in my life did i think i'd make it
Fight, take it
Might bend to vice
Been in sight, fend or die breaking
God I know you hear my pain
Twisted system call em' viens
Wicked lifted off the reigns
Vicious gifted follow flame
Agh why looking to me for something deep
I can’t even feel emotion
let that **** repeatin’ heat in motion
seeking to be not broken
Leave it to me, reach between lost omens
Looking to feed the beast I’m hopin’
Ahead of my time I’m rapping these rhymes
But go unnoticed
Never in my life did i think i'd make it
Fight, take it
Might bend to vice
Been in sight, fend or die breaking
God I know you hear my pain
Twisted system call em' viens
Wicked lifted off the reigns
Vicious gifted follow flame
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
I'm 100% Fangirl mode right now
I'm not even gonna lie.
They're just both so... so...
******* CUTE AGH I'M DYING!!
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
The birches are mad with green points
the wood’s edge is burning with their green,
burning, seething—No, no, no.
The birches are opening their leaves one
by one. Their delicate leaves unfold cold
and separate, one by one. Slender tassels
hang swaying from the delicate branch tips—
Oh, I cannot say it. There is no word.
Black is split at once into flowers. In
every bog and ditch, flares of
small fire, white flowers!—Agh,
the birches are mad, mad with their green.
The world is gone, torn into shreds
with this blessing. What have I left undone
that I should have undertaken?
O my brother, you redfaced, living man
ignorant, stupid whose feet are upon
this same dirt that I touch—and eat.
We are alone in this terror, alone,
face to face on this road, you and I,
wrapped by this flame!
Let the polished plows stay idle,
their gloss already on the black soil.
But that face of yours—!
Answer me. I will clutch you. I
will hug you, grip you. I will poke my face
into your face and force you to see me.
Take me in your arms, tell me the commonest
thing that is in your mind to say,
say anything. I will understand you—!
It is the madness of the birch leaves opening
cold, one by one.
My rooms will receive me. But my rooms
are no longer sweet spaces where comfort
is ready to wait on me with its crumbs.
A darkness has brushed them. The mass
of yellow tulips in the bowl is shrunken.
Every familiar object is changed and dwarfed.
I am shaken, broken against a might
that splits comfort, blows apart
my careful partitions, crushes my house
and leaves me—with shrinking heart
and startled, empty eyes—peering out
into a cold world.
In the spring I would be drunk! In the spring
I would be drunk and lie forgetting all things.
Your face! Give me your face, Yang Kue Fei!
your hands, your lips to drink!
Give me your wrists to drink—
I drag you, I am drowned in you, you
overwhelm me! Drink!
Save me! The shad bush is in the edge
of the clearing. The yards in a fury
of lilac blossoms are driving me mad with terror.
Drink and lie forgetting the world.
And coldly the birch leaves are opening one by one.
Coldly I observe them and wait for the end.
And it ends.
2.5k
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady’s
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze—or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
—as if that answered
anything. Ah, yes—below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore—
Which shore?—
the sand clings to my lips—
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
2.2k
everything seems the same
then repeat
I can't express my feelings right
then repeat
I can't even make them look like a poem
then repeat
that's the thing about repetition
then repeat
it seems like it sounds nice
then repeat
but it sounds so ****** and agh
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
"That is wrong... wait no, that is right "
AGH! stop it society, let me live life.
let me tell you the definition of society in my eyes
|sə'sāııti|adjective (pl.societies) a giant butcher that cuts freedom and imagination with a knife
To be part of it sometimes feels like you live a lie
and the only time you notice is when you die
Let us who are "different" rise and be the difference
change the mindset for our generation and our children.
because all change in the mindset ,starts within
let the rise of the Minority, begin...
With you.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
6 months
23 different treatments
15 different medicines
nothing, nada, nope, no results.
The pain in my head
is not one I'd ever wish on anyone,
not even my worst enemy.
A migraine
every second
of
every day
even while sleeping
is something no one should endure
I dream about headaches... is that weird?
ouch. agh. ugh.
it's been 6 months, non-stop of people saying:
"time is the best medicine"
"don't lose hope"
"you're young, young minds heal fast."
but my favorite:
"Laila, I promise, you'll be better in a week"
Well doc, it's been 23 weeks, what's up?
honestly,
it's now a joking matter.
one of which I laugh with my friends about
I laugh at the fact that I don't remember 95% of the last 6 months
Not because I find it humorous
but because I've been given 23 different "Laila, I'm telling you this "insert treatment here" will work! It works for 99% of the people that do it."
I am the 1%
ha.
actually, I'm in the .25% of teens still experiencing concussion- related symptoms after 6 months of the hit.
Yay for minorities!
and now,
get this,
my treatment
after spending thousands on hyperbaric chambers, freaky boulderite "healing gods", gag-worthy chinese herbs
is yoga.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
I forgot what it was like to be around her, i'm so used to being in the company of lighter souls.
The heaviness is starting to sink back into my bones.
The day turns to darkness, and back to dawn soon, and sleep still hasn't come because the battle between eyelids scanning screens and the inside of themselves proved to be easier than you'd think.
You made me forget that I didn't have a green thumb
You were the green thumb, you are the green thumb
and you're still around, you're still here, but not in the dark,
only when i've got the sunshine anyway, because you are the sunshine
and **** i'm not a flower when I'm alone and looking in the mirror at a single silhouette
I knew I was ****** when I started looking for my skeleton again
The truth is you hardly know these bones, you helped to hide them, heal them.
But every moment I spend with my thoughts brings them out more
They aren't necessarily bad, but I don't know who I am
I know what I want, who I want, who I want to be,
but who am I at one in the morning when I slip back into watching
dramas about people with OCD and anorexia and I find myself crying and wishing there was another skeleton for me hold on to...
one thats not mine.
**** I'm even writing again... That's a sign too.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
Ah - ick coats the tongue.
Agh, let me just lick this up.
Gotta get it off.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 9:07 PM UTC
She's going to make it
Lost a lot of blood...
****
High alcohol level
Ten minutes away
She's okay, she's okay
Losing her fast
She's gonna make it!
————————————
My head is reeling
Dear god, the world is on it's back
Please,
Stop panicking— it's only blood
No, I don't want an IV
It's okay, I'm okay
Don't give me an IV
Don't touch me, I said no!
agh!
Fears digress to slurred vocabulary
Over and over
"Am I broke? Am I broke now?"
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady’s
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze—or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
—as if that answered
anything. Ah, yes—below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore—
Which shore?—
the sand clings to my lips—
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
1.6k
The birches are mad with green points
the wood’s edge is burning with their green,
burning, seething—No, no, no.
The birches are opening their leaves one
by one. Their delicate leaves unfold cold
and separate, one by one. Slender tassels
hang swaying from the delicate branch tips—
Oh, I cannot say it. There is no word.
Black is split at once into flowers. In
every bog and ditch, flares of
small fire, white flowers!—Agh,
the birches are mad, mad with their green.
The world is gone, torn into shreds
with this blessing. What have I left undone
that I should have undertaken?
O my brother, you redfaced, living man
ignorant, stupid whose feet are upon
this same dirt that I touch—and eat.
We are alone in this terror, alone,
face to face on this road, you and I,
wrapped by this flame!
Let the polished plows stay idle,
their gloss already on the black soil.
But that face of yours—!
Answer me. I will clutch you. I
will hug you, grip you. I will poke my face
into your face and force you to see me.
Take me in your arms, tell me the commonest
thing that is in your mind to say,
say anything. I will understand you—!
It is the madness of the birch leaves opening
cold, one by one.
My rooms will receive me. But my rooms
are no longer sweet spaces where comfort
is ready to wait on me with its crumbs.
A darkness has brushed them. The mass
of yellow tulips in the bowl is shrunken.
Every familiar object is changed and dwarfed.
I am shaken, broken against a might
that splits comfort, blows apart
my careful partitions, crushes my house
and leaves me—with shrinking heart
and startled, empty eyes—peering out
into a cold world.
In the spring I would be drunk! In the spring
I would be drunk and lie forgetting all things.
Your face! Give me your face, Yang Kue Fei!
your hands, your lips to drink!
Give me your wrists to drink—
I drag you, I am drowned in you, you
overwhelm me! Drink!
Save me! The shad bush is in the edge
of the clearing. The yards in a fury
of lilac blossoms are driving me mad with terror.
Drink and lie forgetting the world.
And coldly the birch leaves are opening one by one.
Coldly I observe them and wait for the end.
And it ends.
1.4k
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The clock is ticking
Time is running out.
I stand here with a black robe and a scythe
Watching her battling her own demons
Crying but not shedding a tear
As I await to feed on another soul
She awaits to seek comfort in my arms.
There she stands
With arms wide open to embrace me
With a stool underneath her feet
And a rope around her neck
Agh...the cliched way of quitting
Disappointing me as there was no surprise.
The nooze...
Not so choking as her parent's expectations
Or those comments she got for those extra pounds
Not so suffocating as his kiss had left her
Or that bottle of beer and pack of cigarettes
That felt too strangling to let go of
I stand here watching her
Covered in wounds she did to herself
Seemed like her body was her canvas
Every scar, wound, bruise and cut
Had a story of it's own to narrate.
I see her struggling against her own mind
Crumbling down with each thought
I see it all in her dark deep eyes
Deep yet everything seemed eerily hollow
Those eyes showed no sign of regret
Not a hint of reluctance.
No! she wasn't weak, just tired...
And so I ask
How far do you think she's willing to go
I had my answer
As she kicked the stool and also her life
Pushing away the last bit of hope
The rope around her neck grew tighter
Her lips curled slightly
Into a hauntingly charming smile
Life flashed in front of her eyes
As she thought she could escape it all..
Tick- tock tic-hush!!....
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
tsk tsk asterisk
chk chk clap blam boom
sik click arsonic
grip glap drap gloom
wix wax anthrax
hop leap woosh slam
sip spike archetype
cough crash anagram
hark bark blue monarch
wrapped in a summer's day
tick tack heart attack
passing the cabaret
she used to say words like
bump, beep, buzz
until flutter fizz crunch chirp
fell beams of a truss
and tenderly did hum zap sing
in little vrooms and snags
did she meet unfortunate ends
woof, crack, thud, down crags
shimmer shingles whisper dust
ugh, agh, yawn, sigh!
her eye sockets gathered such beautiful rust
and did crunch clink, flick and eek
to crack the numbing morning moon
but break, snap, bash, sink
into the hyphenated royal lagoon.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
You are encased in your world of flower;
Whilst I suffer in the pit below
that wolf at the door is me.
He is the leader of my pack
and when he howls others follow in tick tack
tight formation, his howl has rendered cowards
to fits of madness, coward!
I am that too he says? hahaha!
A fit of vortex light burning brightly over there, you fool!
Screams the wolf,
'you do not know the box you have opened!'
'I do!'
I have opened the post it says sickness and fit,
a spice awakening in Sheffield, and not just the drugs
not working in Manchester,
as Ashcroft once sang banging his shoulders
into every passer by, why? For the hell of it,
take no prisoners, proper Manc wolf style.
And I will burn your souls with words, O burn those bridges burn;
I will crush you with every click of the typewriter
you seek to burn me, call me drunk and ****** and fool,
I forget you! ha! Neit papa! Neit Mama!
Da Christopher! I have made such art and wonders
so see I am not to be taken lightly.
I have danced with death, not once but twice
and lived to tell the tale, captured foes forever
their grimaces frozen in time.
In the dead of night when I have no desire
for both shallow words and drunken wounds and late night calling-
your 'fatal fallacies'
I will burn these images and all the old
word scribbled in spider handwriting
by me that eldest poet, and soul.
That fire shall bring solace.
I hate you, as much as I hate myself;
forever smoking in the corner
and laughing at deaths wings,
as it winks at me underneath
cloaked eyes of shallow indifference -
Off with you and your 'perfect' life too.
Bitter wolf blinks, and cannot sleep,
Oh look how I am red and rendered, insomnia
red eyed and twitching, shocks all over sighs the poet,
Never call me again, drunken witches. Vampires
and bloodsuckers.
Alive still and struggling against the call
of it. Defiantly myself, whilst others crawl
to the windowpane of the widows to cradle the light.
I am encased in darkness, and search for my window-
fools allay me from my path, winding, twisting to
love.
I am burning. This fire it will not cease, this is
the end. My first friend, thrown to the fire,
her fate is sealed, she is undoubtedly married.
My pack is pleased, and giggle in the night,
drunk on the strength of passion! and *****
ACC WOO AGH
Nein Nein Nein
Neit! Da! Da!
I grin through bared teeth,
Always gnashing and grinding.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
American people
Me in Kansas City
Paris is our friend
So is the world
Reports are in
Massive killings
Innocent lives
Blood shed
Heart in pain
Oh my Paris
Agh Kurdistan
Lebanon
Oh Africa
And Afghanistan
Too far from you
Where shall I go ?
Who shall i turn to?
Oh my Paris
My heart aches now
Tears pouring
I have imagined
Walks in the streets
Read too many books
Long descriptions
Often I feel as if I know
More about you
Then my own cities
My love for you
Tonight I morn
Sending energy
With love and healing
To all the people
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
La interminable vision de un buen futuro me alimenta mi sol. Mis manos ramas crecen para alcanzar más bellas palabras que aún no eh leído.
Walking in the dark like he often did so gracefully attaching himself to the books of his library like the grass to the damp earth. His mistakes of the day agitated him slightly he had himself a meal and the reddest wine he could smell, his hands were mist from the hotness of the room, he waited for his cat to appear out of thin air, an apparition of the mind. Grabbing his almost finished bottle, he stepped into the middle of the kitchen looking at the window he felt something move then twitched his eyes to the floor owl manuvering them he saw albert his Abby cat, he seemed tired awakened dizzinly from a long eternal nap, staring at him asking for food without words. He felt his heart broken everytime albert gave him that stare. How can a cat be so mystical he asked but did not get a response from the shadows of the room or the cat either. He was a writer and needed his space to stretch the mind and inhale air exhaling the words into the page, that made him breath better, words of silence teaching the readers of new ages. His wife had died years ago in the war of love against a nasty disease. He loved her but in his separated way, touching her but not really there. The day was Tuesday and the meeting of his writer friends was tomorrow he had to get something down by the morning. To his adored cat a sphinx on the deserted table and his manuscript layed, both object half touched by the shadows and the afternoon light. Where did she to I wonder speaking in his lowered voice, she must have agh forget it Walt you think to much, so he made the efort and moved closer to the machine that allowed him to write his words in silence just the pressing of the keys spokes and he liked it felt like home.
Jun 3, 2022
Jun 3, 2022 at 7:31 AM UTC
For give me mothers if I take another son away
The ***** shouldn't a tested if my ****** wouldn't spray the K
2 the face
2 the point
Hollows in yo temple *****
Leave 2 dents in yo face like some dimples *****
+
Ugh
+
The devil told me that I'm coldblooded
Semi stoic look on my face n these hoes love it
Ain't got it on me when they shoot imma road run it
Never put trust n no ***** cuz these hoes covet
+
Ugh
+
Im like the black mclovin
Wit a wrap sheet 4 days
Tell yo mans cuz he shovin
N if low keep pushing imma have 2 start bussin
'Nother dumb ***** dead in the streets over nothing
Agh
+
My mama say that idk about the struggle but she don't know half if the **** a ***** toggle wit
+
She only know about a 5th of the **** I did
+
N if she knew me she would call me the apocalypse
+
Cuz I done did mo dirt then a Lil bit
+
N if this rapping don't crack imma cop a brick
+
These ****** say they were its at but the fulla ****
+
Cuz we the only mfs really taking risk
+
When I was 17 I ****** a ***** n she was 30
+
They call it statutory **** but I was hella flirty
+
I know some ****** out south that'll do u *****
+
Razor blade 2 yo face like that ***** birdie
+
Ugh
+
I gotcho sis on my lap
N yo fix in a sack
Text books on my back
Imma lowlife pirate I ain't even gotta act
N my ****** on attack
Lowlife just relax
Ugh
1+2
N I mean that ****
I was blind 2 it all now I c that ****
Imma show u mufuckaz that u can get rich
If yo friends turn 2 opps n yo main chick flip
Ugh
+
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 2:12 AM UTC
Discontentment always be
knock, knock, knock!
On thoracic diaphragm.
All cavities get filled
with emptiness and the brain
It sees this anomaly, does its great job:
"Fill the emptiness!";
Ironically keeping to the heart's shadow.
The blind leading the blind,
blood is boiling up inside.
Voices keep repeating
Same old eulogy
Attendees deserted the ceremony
Muscles convulse
One last waking breathe
"Wake up!"
As if this some dream before
The the soul floats above, observing life.
The tangibleness of time:
<Fear>
<sadness>
<anger> <surprise>
<happiness>
<disgust>; now reprise.
"Take this drug for medicinal purposes."
$Paralyze
$Numb
$Tranquilize
$Dumb
$Petrified
$Stump
"Why don't you wake up?!"
One loud shrieking gasp
Ooh-aah!
Heavy pants
Agh
Agh
Agh
"That was a close one..."
The dark matter shifted away.
The brain followed its cue;
What was the discontentment?
It hasn't got a clue.
"I only want more"
Said the voices in the brain
"Of life, that is"
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 6:48 AM UTC
He called me up at midnight monday
Talking to me like we have met in another life
telling me how he wants me to be his future wife
telling me about all the trouble he is going through
telling me about his secrets that I never knew
I never gave him a penny of my love
and he got attached
he doesn't really know me and he got attached
to the mystery of me created by his mind
he got attached to his own solution to his own issues
Giving his own thoughts a name that happens to be mine
but the truth is if he ever listened or took the time to know me
he wouldn't be soo attached
like all the people I opened up to
gave my heart to and they threw it in the trash
If he knew how I laugh like a monkey
and how my lungs are burned like ash
how I wouldn't fit his thoughts at alll
how I'm insecure
how I'm never sure about anything
how I overdose on everything
how I'm messy and irresponsible
how I can never tell a full story
how I can never flirt
how easily I'm open to getting hurt
how clumsy, weird and awkward I am
I told'm
agh I swear I'm not that interesting
atleast not to someone like you
but that intrigued him more
And he was tipsy
he said you will miss me when I'm gone
I told him we are not on the same page at allll
He said tell me one thing
do you love me
and I said no
he said you do cause your still talking to me
and I felt like I wanted to slap some sense into him
I really don't want to hurt you
but where your mind is talking you
I swear it's not true
but he didn't listen
he didn't call to listen
he called to give in to his thoughts
he couldn't let it go
his thoughts he gave my name
Not me
but to him it's all the same
And that's when it got lame
he said I want you
and I almost screamed
I don't want you !
hung up
And now
I'm sorry It had to be that way
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Agh, get out of bed
You stupid girl, you'll be late
And you need a bath.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
The feeling of dancing around to no music is strong.
The feeling of wanting to draw a weird monster is strong.
Agh!
I sound like a bird?
Caw caw caw
Painting someone's face is making my fingers twitch with happiness, they asked for a tiger, I'm making them a fish.
Why not?
The feeling of digging my toes under my mattress is not the same as the sand, but close.
My fingers fly against the keys on my piano, closing my eyes I smile, it's ugly the music I'm trying to make, it doesn't make sense, but it does.
The feelings of cooking toasts and spaghetti, people wonder why, I say why not?
The world behind closed doors is colorful and amazingly vivid. Shiny and soft and beautiful, once someone sees it, the beauty stops, it's the rooms secret.
The feeling of making love to you're one.
In your dream.
The feeling of acting on purpose I see how others react
The feeling of creating chaos in the house.
My inside twist and turn and eyes glaze over.
Happiness hasn't touched me completely, but I'm trying.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
I think I am smart
I am good for art
I should go before a mirror!
Many times look
Turning and turning
Around and once again
I am content
I must be a spice
To make it a day!
I thought !
One,two ....thousand ,million
Agh!
Is it the call I received?!
The cite I visited?!
I was worried.
"Hey son,
Fear not,
It is the science of reflection ,
The mirror before you
Is broken!
My day was ruined!
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Nothing stays forever and I'm sick and tired of putting so much effort in trying to weaver our emotions into connections so I can wear our relationship happily knowing that it will get old and it will get cut and it will smell and I won't want to wear it any more.
and now whenever I'm high all I can see is the fall
I can see you becomig busy with others while I find myself some others because I'll be the one you talk to others about saying " ahh l don't feel like doing the effort to hang with her " that is if you still remember me by then .
nothing stays forever
I expect that you won't like me , like I won't like you forever. I expect life to take you away and for me and you to stray but not together.
Because
nothing stays forever
It's so sad that nothing stays forever , but I can't change it , you can't change it , we must understand the reason behind it.
But at the moment I'm just swamped in a pool of feelings behind it.
Reason and logic are upstairs in the lobby drinking some tea it's hot and I like swimming so I don't see myself going to meet them anytime soon I might just drown in this pool.
And never meet my reason and logic .
funny thing is you walk around my pool but you're never in it .
And I'm weaving in a pool and the strings are getting wet and its soo hard and your not helping your just there tanning chilling and the world does not revolve around us.
Agh these thoughts are killing ...
But I'm going down this road whether it's fast or slow we are ganna go .
And I don't even know anymore
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC