Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Andrew Rueter Jun 2017
The greatest challenge my nature presents:
Love is harder to find
Hate is easier to find
Within myself and others

Is rejection different for me?
Everybody seems to know the pain of being unwanted
And idle threats and empty words are no stranger to rejection
But when you say you'll **** me if you ever see me again
The intention is clear
The existence of my attraction
Is grotesque beyond redemption
I thought I loved you...

When appreciation comes my way
It's superficiality amuses me
Because I know all that needs to happen
Is breaking down the wall to my mind
Or unlocking the door to my heart
And those appreciators will transform into detractors
Especially if the hideous leviathan approaches their vessel

Not finding women gross frustrates me
Because I have no reference point
For why people hate me so much
Which provides a reference point
For why I hate myself so much

It's difficult not to be dominated by this damnation
But there's no way people could understand
The daily subtle nuances
Why should they?
I don't constantly consider their lives either
Even if someone tried to comprehend my life
I'm not sure it's possible
I've been here the whole time and I'm still massively perplexed

I display my emotions
Disgust
I shroud my emotions
Indifference
I **** my emotions
Hatred
Is there no escape?
Even with sanctuaries along the way
Life feels like
Everybody swims in the ocean
While I'm resigned to my lonely oasis
Is it possible to feel more alone than completely alone?
Like a cockroach consigned to living under the refrigerator
It gets so cold and dark down here
I forage for crumbs only at night
Mortally afraid of human contact
For I know that the boot follows the light
And why not?
In a world where our priorities obstruct our compassion
How much consideration should a real human show
to a lowly maggot like me
When they have to worry about paying the exterminator?
Shubham Solanki Dec 2018
I sit by the window
Staring out with hope
Gloomy face eyes low
Captive in this castle
A solitary dreamer
Waiting for the one
Riding with her sword
My dauntless damsel
To rescue me away
far-far away from
this deranged world

I wonder though
What amuses you more
Am I less of a man
Or do you doubt
A woman's valour
Capable of Creating
Life in her womb
Open your petty mind
Break thy stereotypes
Crush the misogyny
Prove to the feminine soul
Chivalry isn't dead anymore
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2018
The human heart

No need to wonder
Why I said

Hearing the rhythm
And the basic beats

Lub-Dub……..Lub-Dub
Lub-Dub

Instantly
They let me know
What to sing
Genre: Experimental
Theme: The Muse
Original Title: the Haunting

I feel lost remembering looking at you in tears
heartache at the memory
Why do I torture myself by listening to the last song
that had you sobbing
and it broke my heart to see?
I can still picture the color of the walls dark orange
the hot humid night in Honduras
on the front patio of the orphanage

I remember the morning you were laying in bed
when you told me you had had enough
We had sold or given away everything
Returning home to the States with $1000 in my bank account
Thank God, for my stepdad..still had a place to stay

Tears stream down my face
Hard to see the notepad as I write

****.

I look up at the sky..first full moon night
Who, exactly up there decide I should be born human?
I thought you were supposed to be a Good God...
What curse did I deserve for you to let me feel this pain?

In the background:
Roette: "Yeah, it must have been love but it's over now.
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without.
It must have been love but it's over now,
It's where the water flows, it's where the wind blows."

and yes the wind blows...well more like it *****!

Broken, did i break you?
Was I so cruel?
Never meant to hurt you but the road to hell is paved with good intentions

Was it my silence or..
the burning lust I could never quell
..which I wonder at times if it will not lead me to hell...
and worse to a hypocritical Christian..the judgement on those who know the truth
is much more severe than those who have not heard.

Martika sings in the background:
  "when you tear temptation call..
    it's your heart that takes the fall"

The irony of it is
it started as a dream for us
one to share for the rest of our lives
I cared about you...listened to you
You were there to hold me in my dark moments
wipe away the tears
We danced, we had fun...
Years later when you were telling me how much I had changed...
you reminded me that when we first met..I sang to you at the beach on a starry night
Trapped in the romance and I was so far gone
Funny how different we were then almost twenty years ago
You had such high hopes for me
I changed from telling you I would never darken the doorway of another church to a full-time missionary
--15 years later I realized who you needed was a man I could never be

The wolf tattoo I got after the divorce
was because I never wanted to be so nice
or vulnerable again

You were so beautiful in that wedding dress
the way your eye shone
at the moment we were happy and it all looked like a promise

It's hard lesson when heartache becomes real enough
that it is an burning ache in the center of your chest  

This is an open wound
It feels like the pen should be writing gangrenous vile dark grey/green ink
as it lets the poison out

**** it.
   Time for another **** and a sip of wine
   Enough of this romantic ****

J Geils Band...singing about how love stinks..
music to my ears

Does make me wonder why
I let this internal drama play out
or worse get the better of me

And the songs go on
Brett Michaels - Love *****
Lily Allen sings smile - along with a video of her paying some guys to beat up her boyfriend

Not entirely sure..and maybe it's because it's one of the first times I have done this
But listening to other peoples anger and misery damnably helps
--and it amuses me that she got the cheating *******'s *** kicked

Cheating is the one thing I never did
though my ex would argue the point and call **** my mistress

Strangely, I will always admire her for giving so much
and how truly she was committed
Though it stings when she said she did it for God and not me

I know how deeply I hurt her
Yet I don't know if she will ever undertand the sacrifices I made and just how hard I tried

Somehow at the moment
Getting ******* is more fun that whiny assed *******
...and there's something to be said for some good **** and two buck Chuck

Love for  a human (and yes there are times I wish I was an alien..god knows that is how I got treated all the way through high school)
Reminds me how you make a statue
Simply carve away all that is not the statue

So it is with us
   what we must learn about love is as much what it is not
   as it is what we think it is
or what we think it should be...

I so want to write something deep and profound to impress everyone
Which it is the best time the write the last line and to...
           STOP
Got just a bit ****** and found myself pouring my heart out
Weird form of therapy but the only way to deal with a pain I have not been facing.
Emily Pidduck Apr 2014
1937

bushido invasion
memory still vivid in the Chinese
of a slaughter
prisoners
chopped and lobbed into the river
display their heads
let the next line kiss the remains
but the time is ticking
and the water is only pink
prisoners
mowed down
with bullets
and laughter
they can turn and swim
Japanese aim is good
not one makes it to the other side
the pink
is a deep red flood
becoming a dam
with the bodies of
children
ladies
gentlemen

why did those murdered forget
the purple mountain legend
when it burns
the city falls
why did they not flee faster

the policy issued
plunder
burn
******
do not let that little boy
take revenge
5 years old
they severed him

Japanese leaders saw a chance
to remove any pity
in the solider
they ripped out
humanity
inserted
brutality

training exercise
hoist your bayonet
plunge forward
twist
extract
plunge
twist
extract
men with bound wrists
considered subhuman
butchered
plunge
twist
spit

routine puts soldiers at a disadvantage
fire is added
fields are swamped with oil
and laced with people
patrolled edges
keep the cries alive
the only release
death

movement is needed
tanks must pass
chatting soldiers hang out the sides
wheels roll over the bodies
filling the ditches
carcasses
and
wounded
if there is not enough
they found the closest Chinese
and added it to the pile

competition
2 leaders
in a fight to show superiority
uptake a challenge
to win is 100
swords are withdrawn
ignore its' eyes
the race
a beheading
lost count
up the stakes
150

only the beginning
for the women

a hunt commences
females do not leave the house
there is not one in the streets
rounded up
army trucks
bringing in loads
******* like animals
chained to racks
*****
commonly gang-*****
bleeding to death
aged under 8
over 80
a pregnant women
***** to death
her fetus cut out
and destroyed
encouragement
from higher ups

and the advice given
pikankan is acceptable
every warrior should
do not let them talk
**** the pigs
when they are done being women

more than 20,000
maybe less than 80,000
defiled
in the carnage

journalist support
with authentic recounts

but with time
confused hospitalization
of the soldiers
who puked every meal
and gagged from inside out
as the horrors ate them

the only relief
an international safety zone
perhaps 20 Westerners
to help a mere 300,000
only half
at intervals
Japanese crossed the fence
for the women hunt
for Chinese soldiers
recognized by calloused hands

irony
******* on a Westerner arm
a symbol
as he aided
survivors of the massacre
and the Nazis in Nanking
aghast
leaked information
on the horrors
and
****** ordered silence

a single surgeon
a lucky boy with only one bayonet puncture
another
missing eyes
missing ears
half a nose from
100 tied together
set on fire

Japanese photography
of bonding moments
as they watched
a house packed tight
panicked people on roofs
to escape flames
jumping

6-8 weeks later

more refined brutality
enforced prostitution
and intake of *****
****** cigarettes for children

the West
in ignorance
watched the German rise
forgot responsibility
to humanity
in the Asian wars

no apology
denial
unfair hatred
of later innocent Japanese generations
mention of Hiroshima
amuses some Chinese
doesn't bother others
it's not everyone
that's still too many

lacking sympathy
the road to brutality
lingers
Horrifying and saddening, considered by many to be on par with the genocide of the Jews in brutality. If there are any deep questions please message me, otherwise comments are fine. Anything confusing, just ask. Please do not take offensively, I believe most of what I have said is fact, not interpretation.
Sheeda Feb 2013
Oh, oh Oreo
Oreo the cat
Who makes of ripped up paper towels
Very fancy hats
Oh, oh Oreo
My silly little friend
Who through ridiculous antics
Amuses to no end
Oh, oh Oreo
Sniffer of all shoes
Faced with the choice of sniffing strangers
It's their footwear that you choose.
Oh, oh Oreo
Speaker of cat tongue
I pretend to understand your words
But my translations are far-flung
Oh, oh Oreo
Warmer of my lap and heart
I promise now as I did before
We will never be apart.
Just a silly little ode to my kitten :] She's really dumb, but I love her. When I first got her, I promised that I would never leave her, ever. Never, ever, ever gonna break this promise. Oh, she isn't exactly Oreo colored... more like oreo-that-fell-in-mud colored (shes a calico :D). Also, she was sitting in my lap as I was writing this.
Nazish Idrees Sep 2019
he is a turtle
she is a rose

he moves slow
she daily glows

he is rough and coarse
she smells perfect

he closes his eyes
she flies in petals

he proposed her
she refuses

he goes down underwater
she amuses

he came as a wet pet
she firms her guards

he tells a story
she discards

he stops trying
she loves the scar

he stays in front of her
and she remarks

what do you need?
what do you want?

his voice is crisp
he utters at last

I just need affection
I just need admiration
I just need approval
because I am a narc.
Trevor Gates Mar 2013
On a night like this, of full-moon bliss
Of the midnight winds and collecting mists
I remained, forevermore
Chained, to the floor
A victim of joy’s…goodbye kiss

In a dungeon I lie, hidden from the sky
A shadow untamed with vile red eyes
I waited, I hungered
Without proper slumber
In my mistress’ pit, awaiting time

It was from lust and desire to fuel and empower
For whom she wishes for me to devour
I restrained, she teased
I grew hard, to please
The widowed Countess: my dark sire.

Though my story may seem bleak
But not to those, whom morally weak
A tale, a fable
However which label
Entitles this to civilized freaks

I moved from town to town, home to home
In search of a life wherever I would roam.
At last, I came
To an estate of name
Belonging to a Countess of ancestral Rome

Countess Donatella, eyed my work and demeanor
From afar I could tell, I sensed, I smelled her
Her scent, so tempting
Was she attempting…
To allure my beastly form into something beneath her?

One night she called for me, alone in her quarters
She treated me to delicacies from rich exporters
She asked my name
I said none, I refrained
“Mysterious and Strong.” She said in order.

She walked over, to the silk on the bed
Colored in gold and shimmering red
Curling her finger
To me, and eager
“Remove your clothes” the Countess said

I did as I was told. I abide her command.
She seduced like a mistress of the eternally ******
Caressing my skin
Licking my chin
And instructed me to please her demands.

My strength increased as I ripped apart her dress
“Yes, my dear, rough and brute.” She stressed
My *** throbbing
Her head bobbing
She turned into an animal I could not resist

Through the night our lust ignited
Into a furious intoxication, organs united
A symphonic ******
Winds, rain and thunder
Matching the sweltering copulation benighted

In the glow of after, past the ****** she gathered
Breathing deeply she said, “You are mine. I am master”
For too long, I thought
I was ridden of what I sought
One to counter my thirst for lust, the tiring caster.

For many nights I swooned, I pleasured her in ways
No other human could fathom or reclaim
My art was of the flesh
And her succulent *******
Feasting like the dog of Hell’s fame

But in this time I feared
For my secret was severe
To show, to hide
My inner design
Of nocturnal savagery that is devilishly revered.

It was upon a warm night of *******
That the moon left me horrified and shaking.
I ran from the master
To evade disaster
Of displaying my transformational awakening.

I trampled in the woods and screamed into the night
The beast of the void howled under the moonlight
I ventured, I hungered
Awaken from slumber
A slave to Lycanthrope, a feral disease of might

The Countess’ workers hunted; “A monster!” they deemed
But I killed many before I was to be seen
Ripping, tearing, slashing, eating,
Guts, bones, skin, feeding
My viciousness, my curse, my bane and dream.

After my episode of moral slaughter
The workers found me curled in a fetal posture
I would have been killed
But the Countess, sealed
Me away in the cryptic tomb of her father.

I was left to suffer in the underbelly of my sins.
Shadows and demons moaning like the wind
My master kept me
Protected me
In her care I would no longer win

Now I lay, waiting for the my master to show
So the door above me will open and glow
The white orb
That will mourn
The lives I have taken, eaten and in my intestines flow

The tomb dungeon unlocks, creaking loudly with rust
The master, the beautiful Countess that I must
Please and satisfy
Penetrate, rectify
The punishment that was bestowed by the just.

“So you are known by many names.” She utters
I look up at her with eyes of thirst, my lover
“You are unique.
So much to keep
For myself, my beastly treasure and no other.”

She walks to the shadowed wall and pulls down a lever
And stands in front of me, **** and forever
A pale seductress
Her eyes focus
With mine, for I wait for the power that was severed

“Now I will be pleasure by that of a beast, that of a god.”
She says as she massages my erecting rod
“Now, my dear.”
As I hear.
“Enter me and leave me in pleasurably awe.”

With the chains around my wrists, ankles; my neck and waist
She mounts me in the moonlight space
Our sweat collects
Drips and specs
Glossing her pale skin and my ever changing face.

I stare into the moon as I ******, my moans of pain matching her voice
She yells from the seismic endurance, her dooming choice
To unleash my monster
With blood thirst conquered
No, it is not, it is her, growing with every other screaming voice

Moans of pleasure soon turn to moans of distress
The wolf of the night is coming, no less
My teeth protrude
My mind feuds
With reason and passion, where blood replaces the mess

My fur is black, my claws like steel
My fury is lustful, the deeper I feel
The Countess is in fear
I ignore her tears
And devour her, ravish her, take her skin and peel

Her lovely face is first to go, once flawless now disfigured
I tear her arms from her body, her liver in my teeth lingered
Blood, tears, flowing juices
Guts, gore, nail amuses
The laughing jackals and demons in a Hell for me that’s bigger

There is no more Countess. No more Donatella, nor master
The moon reflected in a red pool of suffering disaster
Of the ******* monster in our wake
Of the true one she had forsake
In the whims of lustful pursuit with death proceeding faster

Through the lubrication of excessive blood and ****** fluids
I slipped and broke from my chains and fled from the ruins
I remained the beast
Through the forest at least
And return to the woods, away from the her influence

I left the Countess estate as I arrived
Homeless wanderer who survived
Another full moon night
And devil’s sight
Of my life forevermore, the way of the morally derived

Where my nightmares are revived …

…Beyond my human disguise.
I was once working on a collection of interlocking short stories that detailed personal viewpoints of happening in popular horror stories. It would have gone through the Tale of Frankenstein's monster, to Bram Stoker's Dracula and to the wolfman, Invisible man and Jekyll and Hyde. Now it was only an idea, and now reading that description it sounds like a hash version of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. But I would have changed it all up so it was different.

I never really got around to writing any drafts for those stories, but the basic outlines were always lingering in my head. This extended poem is base on the Wolfman outline I would've used.

I would be lying if I said that this was the intentional goal or writing this poem. It gradually became that. Sometimes if I have unfinished works that have met road blocks, then I try combining them. I've learned after awhile that it's better to have a few completed stories than several unfinished outlines just waiting for inspiration. The act of revising and combining ideas can really get the creative juices going. So that method pretty much birthed this poem, "Primal Lore"

You can find the other posting of this here: http://fav.me/d5xgbju
And if you like my work, like my FB page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Trevor-Gates/224601067564715?ref=hl
Homunculus Dec 2015
Writing always seems more urgent
When it's written in italics,
Even when the topic,
Is rather mundane.
Consider this example:
I like to eat sandwiches

Furthermore, everything
Seems much more urgent,
When written in bold font,
We revisit the example:
I like to eat sandwiches

...and a step even further,
Writing seems absolutely
Crucial when written in,
Bold font, with caps-lock,
Once again, we recapitulate:
I LIKE TO EAT SANDWICHES

At this point, it seems as though
I am imparting unto you matters
Of the utmost severity, that could
Be the difference between life and death,
...but really, I just like sandwiches.

This amuses me.
RazanSidErani Dec 2014
My issues are nothing new,
Not old either.
Just common.
Isn't that's what we all are?
Similar are our difficulties.
Just different setting, different levels.
We all are heirs to wisdom.
It grows and we learn.
I take my time with it. I lean forward. I try.
Everything is interconnected.
Everything is same.
Everything is common.
This world is common.
I'm bored and aren't you?
Shapes, colours, snowflakes.
Nothing were made to be similar.
The reason it's all so very interesting.
To feel, to see and to touch.
Their intricate patterns amuses me.
If the day goes white to blue,
And the nights yellow to black.
Aren't we all necessary. All the colours.
We weren't made to be different.
Be separated and humiliated.
But guess what we learned from humility.
We let wisdom grow inside us.
We let it strengthen our bonds.
We accepted us and so did others.
Now we come up at first.
And Now we stand out.
In a world this common,
Its refreshing to be different.
© RazanRinaldi
Jami Morton Sep 2010
The heat of your gaze is piercing my skin
Is penetrating the wall I had erected around me
It's testing every limit
And finding every crack in my, otherwise, immaculate facade
Even the tiniest flaw has grown giant
And the slightest push
Brings it all crashing down
Defying even the strongest of barriers
The force being pressed against me in undeniable
I'll have to submit
I lose ground every second
To your perfection
The glint in your eye
Speaks of a delicious evil
That I can't help but yearn for
And the more I hold myself down
The more I find myself reaching out
Just to have another taste
Of the treasures you bring me
My resistance amuses you
And you encourage my refusals
Just so you can feel yourself break me again and again
Every time you take me
The battle is yours
Ochiogu Kevin Feb 2010
Nature amuses,
at times when perfection
demands of it.
So is esctasy,
whenever it grips
a ****.
But its force
is undeniable,
it make every ****
a ******!,
and the law fails
to persecute them;
nor for other atrocities,
of incests and
the ******* they breed.
I want you
                  to know that I forgot
the memory I wanted to expound upon here,
                  the tears I never cried make it difficult to dryly
blot the pages.
                  I suppose you know I never loved you, but
more meaningfully, I hope you now see how trifling and hollow
love is. Like a warm Spring day, love means nothing but the
nearing embrace of a dying star.
                   I want you to know what I'm referring to
in this line. It's called "astronomy." It seems to hold the
attention of other mystics, such as her.
                   But I want you
to know
                    that it's just about gravity and
luminosity and
                    what our star hasn't got, but
others have.
                    The wind blows my page as I'm writing this standing on
my porch, and I fail to
                    Look up. My hand holds down the dry, decaying
tree pulp in an attempt to stabilize the
                    metaphor for
Life
                    your absence has become.
When the dead leaves of last Fall rattle, I can see you there,
running past the chain-link fence containing me and the
tennis surface.
                     It would be weeks before sweat dripped from my nervous
head as we jumped up and down while others slow danced.
                     And then I wake up in my new apartment in a city
you've never been to and remember jumping was only me. It's been seven years, but
I still have my diploma from that early graduation--
it's above my fridge so I can ignore it every time I
reach inside
                      To drink the cool water and
remember the things I should have learned
and the time I ran fast, back
                       to your host parents' so I could use the bathroom
without you knowing, because my stomach was convulsing.
                        And maybe what I meant to say is that the earth's on
its yearly sojourn which brings me to that place-- that group of folding chairs
and the endless line of cows dancing slowly past the podium with nothing
but a piece of paper that tells them "you were once here."
                        It takes me on the highway, past my father's farms to that
man-made reservoir that irrigates them. It amuses Nebraskan farm boys
that the girls that ride along seem to know the way
                        better.
                        But you weren't from Nebraska, and you only knew the way
in water, in the bikini I helped you choose at target-- I don't remember the hue.
                         Your skin looked amazing and warm
                         transplanted, prairie-grass nestled gently on your supple thighs
under my grasping hands which held on firmly yet
were knocked off with the jolt as you spurred our gas-powered sea-horse, laughing
as we both sped off from our island rendezvous and
became oblivious of my self.
MMXII

I called this exchange student I knew in high school "Diva." It means goddess in Sanskrit,
so I thought I was being Multi-Kulti.

She left me with a lot of **** on my boots.
rebecca hunter Jan 2018
What is the universal language?
Is it not music? That soothes and amuses,
That inspires us to movement,
That paints a picture of a thousand words,
That when it’s heard, can move us to love.

Music so expressive, it can make you weep
Sounds so smooth, they can help you sleep.
And what about marches that propel armies,
Keeping their feet as one, with the beat?

A beat that throbs deep in your heart
And calls you apart, to dance or to revolution –  
The revolution of the soldier,
Or the revolution of the ballerina’s toes.
Who knows what has been done by the song you have sung
It has called, it has touched, it has moved
Like a bell, it has rung.

But let it love, not hate
Let it not be sung too late
And remember that all can hear it
So draw people near with it

You don’t need a rehearsal
To speak the universal language of music- Just use it!
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
It starts like this
Watch the ocean and sky kiss
Building a ship of feathers
A place for sunburnt, stranded sailors
A tray for stillwater dreams
We crave a spell, a fix, a score
A contagion or a cure
Wearing shades till the candlelight begins its rhyme
Never get caught in nursery time
Never make contact of eyes
We tell ourselves it's Bethlehem
Inhaling glass
Playing house
Psychological profiles of planets
Silence amuses and upsets
Lay on your backs, arms out-stretched
Watch other heartbeats teach flying lessons
Hallucinate in sunspots
See the clouds as they dot out your fate in negative space
An extinct hue of eyes amidst a shade of blue
Stick your head out the firmament
Past the clouds
Breathe in the stars
Dome of the world
Never as menacing as these white fences
The moon and her ******
All our defenses against a scorching sun
Skyscrapers pierce but our fingers an eyes remain the best tools to drill small holes
To see what we want to see
Squinting in belief or disbelief
Hot cities and cold deserts
Hot coals and dust bowls
Anchored ghosts
A strange, soothing spark
A defeated arc
Acorn fell upon my head
Mother earth waits with bated breath and open jaws
Beware mass hysteria in a closed world
Fear-mongers striking dumb first
War efforts
Sounding alarms
Black swans
Sick doctors
Confetti leaves
Glittering sheets of ice
Thrones of sapphire
Where is all that truly radiates
Invisible lighthouses of hearts
Pitching tens for spiritual camps
Sitting Indian-style above his grasshoppers
Waiting for the day they'll make music again
Rotating along the circle curve like Buddha on a toy train set
A supposed circuit unending
Making night, restoring light
Millions of years in one blink
Life unworthy of life still thrives
Tattooed with shoelaces and turquoise veins
Repercussions of deformity
Antiseptic bombs
Hitchhiker's thumb
Scapegoats and escape artists
Chicken pox
Contempt attacks with gnashing teeth
Compliments and black *** magic
Totality, forgiveness, thunderstruck
Too good to be true
Kneel in the desert and die
Animals **** and we sing love songs
Oblivious housewife with a feather-duster
Talking puppets
A flick of ash
Adam's rotten-apple atoms
Superbirds and Zenplanes
The Morning After
Dead idols, trendsetters, setting worlds on fire
Casino collapsing
Purse-*******-Keys, check
An embrace like a boa
Penetrate, Swallow Whole
One nail through two feet
Time's cruel canopy
A funny tragedy
The audience is laughing blood
Marie Williamson Aug 2016
A blazing passion,
Burning holes in me.
A secret contract in your eye.
As I sit waiting for my destiny,
It amuses you babe it amuses you to take your time.
Walk with me babe
Do you want me
Say if you do cause I'm longing for you
Don't drive me crazy this way
Do you want.me
I remember how you wrapped me round your finger
A dozen crazy heartbeats out of time
Hypnotic glances always linger
I want to feel you babe want to feel you wrapped around mine
Be with me babe
do you need me
Say if you do I've a deep need for ou
Do you need me
What is that echo of Tunder
My heart feels loose in my chest
I taste your presence, I hear your sound
Like a photograph, like a photograph insida my head
Talk to me babe
Do you love me
Say if you do cause I'm waiting for you
Don't drive me Crazy this way
If you want me you just have to say
Bathsheba Dec 2010
I cautiously peep out the bedroom window and immediately spy snow.

More snow!

****!

I have already been trapped inside this house for five days now and I am beginning to get serious cabin fever. Something has to break and it has to break soon. As I stand here I am strangely mesmerised by these fanciful flakes as they fall seductively over a garden that has long since been abandoned.

The garden itself is actually heaving a huge collective sigh of relief at all this unwanted attention. Someone or something has finally acknowledged its hidden existence after so many many long years of neglect. The garden is stirring; there is a new vibrancy in the air, an unknown quality has begun to tease and tantalise the remains of a life once lived.

It’s funny the things that you notice when you have too much time on your hands. The old derelict outhouse, for instance, forsaken since Freddie left back in ‘72 takes on an almost ethereal quality. Gossamer threads subtly woven together now delicately frame and highlight his old stomping ground with a wicked wildness and urgency.

I must close the curtains and return.
Return to what?  

“Right …. stop your maudlin girl, time is only relevant now, remember that, always.”

I slowly walk through to the front parlour and collapse into the battered old fireside chair. It stills my beating heart. I so love to read and interpret the intricate patterns stitched so expertly into the very fabric of its soul. I have a very vivid imagination and can spend hours recreating different scenarios courtesy of my patterns.

My patterns.

Sometimes for example I imagine a paddock full to bursting point of millions and millions of tiny black spiders. Each one hell bent on weaving the perfect and foolproof web. Millions of eyes darting here and darting there. Cautious of their peers. Always cautious. Consumed and driven with the need to spin. Their seedy beady eyes are very dark and very seductive. It is a rather a frantic scenario, I grant you, but it does sort of lend itself a certain amusement.
Honest!

Another one that amuses me is the one that involves ‘The Butcher’, should I go on? Ok I will. Well, initially I was unsure until that one bright spring morning when it finally showed itself. Cheeky really! Actually, funnily enough it was just after the last heavy snowfall, what some three years back now. I was sitting down eating a particularly nice plate of kippers when it just jumped out at me. I can honestly say that I do not know where it appeared from but appeared it did none the less.
Quite shook me up really.

There he stood (The Butcher) in all his glory, in all his garb, with the biggest meat cleaver this side of the county. There was blood a plenty. Dripping of his face. Dripping of his hands. Dripping of his arms. I guess you get the picture. I laugh now, off course, but not initially. He also has these big huge bulbous eyes and a squashed boxer’s nose. And if this is not scary enough, at his feet are the remains of the entire cemetery of Standfield. All in various different stages of putrification.
Nice!
Bones and flesh merge and spurge forming a sea of rotting corpses. One huge heaving mass writhing at the filthy ***** feet of The Butcher. It makes me smirk!

I glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. That can’t be right. It says that it’s nearly 2pm. How can that be?  I have only just sat down and I know that when I woke up and peeped out of the window it was just after 5am. Strange! Still, I guess the clock has simply stopped and maybe needs re-winding, that’s all. I’ll sort it out later. These things are sent to test us, aren’t they?  
Been happening a lot of late.
Bless.

“Oh, that’s right listen to Freddie and not me. What’s new? This is all so ****** pointless. How dare you ask me my opinion if you are not actually interested in the response? Why bother? Look Freddie, I know it’s not your fault but you do so enable the old fool. How about supporting ME for a **** change? Look at me Freddie, not HIM, look, what do you see? It’s ME Freddie, open up those blind eyes of yours. I am here. I am real. Touch me Freddie. Please, please ….”

The clock strikes six times. Six! Does that mean that it is now six in the evening or is it six in the morning? I feel confused. I don’t like the snow. It scares me. Reminds me. I do not want to be reminded because I live in the here and the now. Now is all that is relevant to me. Time is only relevant now, see I remembered!

I attempt to stand up from the battered old chair but immediately collapse back down into it. Defeated. The curtains have not been drawn correctly in the front parlour and I can see through the tiny gap straight into the garden. A winter wonderland assaults my eyes. I try to shut it out. It is bearing down on me. I am struggling. I am struggling to breathe now. My heart is pounding and desperately trying to escape from my body.  What shall I do?  Help me? What, you think that this is funny. How? What part of a fellow human being having breathing problems is actually funny, prey tell? That’s right then, pretend it’s not happening. Maybe it will go away ….. just like Freddie did.
Anna Feb 2015
Everyday we struggle to find peace within us.
Everyday we try to make things work out.
Everyday we stress ourselves over things that didn't work for us.
Everyday we try to find solutions for it.
And everyday we hope to solve one day at a time.

At 3 A. M., when it's calm and quiet.
I lie awake, alone in my room.
All sorts of things come and enter my mind.
Like a speeding f1 race car.
Laying long tracks of happenings in my life.
When I should be sleeping,
My mind wakes me up and forces me to piece together my shattered life.
It wills me to seek answers to my simple yet unanswered questions
And to find motivation and purpose in this tiring cycle of crap throw at my face.

3 A.M.; there it is again. It comes crashing to my head.
All those that has been said and done.
All those which cannot be brought back.
Those broken friendships and failed relationships.
Those remarkable and irrational reasons given to me.
And how stupid I was for just accepting it.

At 3 A.M., I think about things that can't be changed.
And how it amuses me so much I totally forget that I was the one jeopardized.
I think about the times when I should've taken action; but I didn't.
Those times when I should've let out my side; but just smiled.
Times when anger took over; I just didn't want to talk.
And now I wonder, if this things didn't happen
Would I be happier?
Would I be contented with what's happening?
Or would I wish that it will be just like what it is now?

One day, after a seemingly quick but a long drink, I realize.
My life is so much better not knowing why.
I am successfully living my life
Peacefully contented with everything
But without those people who made me feel not worthy of even just a good reason.

I can't stop thinking. I lie awake until 3 A.M..
I don't know how to make my thoughts stop, so I figured a solution.
I wrote you a letter which goes like this:
"Hi. How are you? It's been a while since we last talked. Our friendship ended up with a cheap spat. How are you with him? Going strong? I hope you realize why I got mad. I lost control. Until now I can't figure out your reasons. It just doesn't fit in. But I accepted it anyway. So let's move on. I want you to know that I'm happy for you guys. I know that you're in good hands cause I experienced it myself. But please don't try and question about whatever's happening now. It is a consequence of your choice. I hope you understand that it comes with the package.
Forgiveness? It happened way before. But forgiving and forgetting isn't exactly what I stand for. All things come flashing back whenever we cross paths. So I think that this will take a very long time to fix. And before I forget, I'd like you to pass this message from me to that guy. "Don't try to redo that stupidity you've done to me because the extent of your damage is unimaginable.I am still mad at you. But, on the other hand, I thank you for doing that, because now I know who would stand up for me and who wouldn't. You also extended the line of friendships for me. And with that I thank you."
That's it. I hope you found answers to your questions."

Now at 3 A.M.
Though nothing is ever enough, I think that it will suffice.
g clair Sep 2013
About that starting lineup,
well I think I missed the gun
but just as well
took off for other places~
I longed for mountains majesty
and all those things I hoped to see,
while others stayed
and loved familiar faces.

Some married and they bore their young,
or college-bound for work and fun
or tragedy,
well sometimes God just loses me~
The question of my failure
to connect with just one sailor,
what the heck, but strangely so,
it still amuses me.

I ponder of a hope,
that it's still possible,
within your scope,
and grateful for eleventh hour breakthroughs~
Still don't get what you wrote to me,
I bungled at the spelling bee,
you say the thing I'll get, is what I choose?

My mind it travels to and fro,
the world it feeds the input though,
and we must press the whey out from the curds~
And so I speak in vagaries,
of things to come which I can't see
but speak into reality,
if only by my words.

The power of the word,
to mezmerize and heal the hurt,
your eyes are beautiful
they've looked into my soul~
The wonder of your gaze,
it touches places, Dear,
I'd rather not be writing of,
our love, like epic poetry,
too much to share in whole.
Cledentine May 2022
Isn't it fascinating?
Telling you they're down
Telling you they're suffering

Isn't it amusing?
Telling you they give up
Telling you they want the end

Pessimism fills their statement
Dejected faces
Inconsolable souls
Shells impossible to move

Yet it amuses me more
Their smiles
Their laughter
Their permanent changing masks

Their tears
They wipe off
As if it's a raindrop
Just happened to come down

How does it feel?
To be in pain
To hurt
To be happy

How does their life go?
Having more marks
More than in my system?

It must be really amusing
allan harold rex May 2012
THE SHADOWS PALMS
STRETCHED IN THE EBONY ROADS
MUSING ON THE BLOCKS OF RUGGED STONE STEPS
GARNERED AND GATHERED BY CHAFED PALMS.

STRADDLING OVER THEM
THE DEEP FURROWS AND HEATED BROWS
NOW BROWN AND TANNED WEARING
A RUMMAGED MOUSTACHE OF CLIMBING VINES.

EVERY STEP AMUSES,
A MUSE THAT DOES NOT CEASE TO AMUSE,
IN THE HEAT OVERDOSES.


AND WHEN THE ARECA PALMS PALIPATING
IN ARRAY
HOIST ABOUT LIKE ROWS OF MEN DOPED


IN CEILED BANKS OF DISTRUST
A CYNICAL NILA CRIES ,
HER PLUNDERED SANDS.


NOW THE SUNKEN FERRIES ,
HAVE APPEARED AT HER BAY,
AND PAINFULLY CHAFE EACH OTHER.


A ***** FROM THE BOTTOM
STIRRING THE BELL FOR THE REQUIEM
PAY THE FERRYMEN.


FOR THE WAYFARERS WAFFLED WRITINGS
ARE ADDRESSED
TO THE MEN WHO PLASTERED HER WALLS ALONE
Zywa Dec 2022
Out of fashion, out-dated
there's no help for it, so let me be
unattractive, rejected
because I show myself so conspicuously
and attract attention needlessly

That's how I'm seen. I am seen
and the whispering amuses me
although nobody talks to me

And you let me wait again
until the reception calls
that you are there

So I just sit here
looking out the window
I am used to it, there is nothing to see
at the back of the hotel
and it is getting dark

You always were impatient
My make-up took too long for you
and you sat angry in the car

but if I behaved exactly
the way you had conceived
you could really be sweet
"Hotel Window" (1956, Edward Hopper)

Collection "NightWatch"
Little Wolf Nov 2015
I think if Madness were a person he'd be a handsome, sharp dressed, man. He would wear a well tailored suit with a deep purple, velvet, waistcoat. I imagine  he'd wear a black fedora for the mystery and a pocket watch to keep time. A little old fashioned but ageless.

A few days before he arrives I always get antsy. My anxiety acts up and I do things like leave the grocery store in a panic and empty handed. I take my kids to the park and then I find I suddenly can't breathe and the world feels like it's ending. And then....there is the inevitable knock on my minds door.

"Oh it's you" I'd say.
"Dont pretend like you didn't know I was in town..." He pushed past me , drops his stuff , and easily finds the whiskey cabinet and pours himself a full glass. He has been here before.  "I was at the grocery store yesterday and the park a few days before that. " he turns, glass in hand. He smiles and it sends chills down my spine. "Well..." He continues, "you should have known I was coming . The signs were all there." I turn away, nervously and indignantly.
He sips his whiskey, studying me.
"Right. You thought some vitamins and sunshine could keep me away."
The thought obviously amuses him. He laughs and downs his entire drink in one gulp. He loves this game. He pours another whiskey and walks over to me. He puts the drink in my left hand and stands right up against my back, his hands on my shoulders, his lips near my ears. I can feel his warm breathe and I am nauseated and comforted at the same time.  He slowly moves his hands down my arms to my hands. He locks his right hand with mine and wraps it around my stomach so his arm is around me too. His left hand brings the drink up to my lips. I close my eyes for a moment wishing him away. It doesn't work.
"Now" he whispers "where were we?"
Shauna Nov 2014
That moment when
"I love you"
Becomes synonymous
With a slam of the door

That moment when
Water pours out of your doe-like eyes
And takes the shape
Of your absent father

That moment when
You witness a stranger's father
Pushing away a girl resembling a porcelain doll's hand
And whispering,
"It hurts me more than it will ever hurt you."

That moment when
You realize
You have a hickey
Except
It's on your heart

That moment when
What used to upset you
Now amuses you greatly
Because,
You killed every inch of feeling
And replaced it
With jokes
Until
One day
You realized
You also killed yourself
In the process
Hot mess 101
wearegerms Jan 2013
Anticipation sustains the shock
To Immateria I run from solitude

Gravity binds motionless tears and aspirations

Unsettled minds quiver with passion as madness leads back to a private paradise
A charismatic figure emerges to save me from this senile suicide

Dancing images separate me from the eyeless monsters

Enthusiasm curves my lips as the alchemist invades my consciousness

The drowsy air hums like a savage
and eternity amuses itself on our fluttering lips
Catherine Paige Aug 2011
these attachments to you and your heart
they wring me out and into these thoughts
your interest feels waning and fickle
anything that amuses you seems to steal it away

every heart around you
seems to feel like competition
the best of them and the best of you
bringing out my worst

you're not really mine
my words don't hit your heart quite right
so my mouth fills blood
from biting my tongue
Written April 27, 2011
Vernon Waring May 2016
Dear Poet:

Your poetry
throbs
amuses
delights
irritates
stimulates
sometimes incites

Mystifies
startles
unnerves
and excites

Perfectly lofty
exquisitely right
dynamic
thrilling
burning bright
brilliant
heartwarming
whimsy in flight

Provocative
magical
forever true
magnificent
moving
engaging too

So now I'll close my letter
with a plea:

Keep writing.
Take care.

Sincerely,

Me
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2021
Sometimes
We need to ask a question
Not to make correction
Not to hear what amuses us

Just to acknowledge
How much they lie
All at the same time
Alright
Genre: Observational
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
I watched how she walks through the pavement
With her chin up and shoulders straight
I watched her dainty hair being blown by the wind
And how she sit and light her smoke
I watched how she see through the horizon
I watched how she cringes by the wind
I watched how she walks
And enter a house with a cat that doesn’t talk
I watched how she makes dinner
I watched how she stares at it
I watched how she flicks through tv channels
With no interest whatsoever
I watched her light another pack
I watched how she amuses herself with the dissolving smoke
I watched how she silently carresses the cat
And scratches his head, the cat likes that
I watched how she decides to go to bed
I watched how she looks into nothing
I watched how she cries more
And love less
Think more
And sleep less
Wallow more
And eat less
Die more
And live less
I just watched her
And couldn’t save her
Then I realized
I was her

-Malaya Sanchez
Zombie Batman Jun 2014
Oh love, how you are so bitter sweet.
You reel in any sucker willing to bite.
You like to trick the nicest people.
Why it amuses you, we will never know.
But sometimes, you actually make matches.
Nice matches that last forever.
You are the best and the worst thing ever.
I love you. And yet I still loathe you.
You've helped me find the one.
But you've given me so much heartbreak.
Thank you. And *******.
I wrote this off of the top of my head to appreciate and despise love. It's mostly about old and new loves we've all had.
Viseract Sep 2020
Mesmerized by what lies inside
Dwells in my skull, lives in my mind
Showing me, these corrupted dreams
Behind my eyes, more than it seems

Wilted roses, pouring rain
Not a word but the roaring pain
Scratching and tearing, flesh left raw
Growling and biting and sharpening claws

Shining eyes belie rage denied
Moonlit skies, moonstruck cries
Enraged and entrapped by thorns, kept safe
Let us loose, witness our showcase

"Your life isn't hard, it has no stress
I am kindred, so I know best"
Without, surveillance, how could you know
I'm all wound up and I'm ready to go!

Don't tell me what I have not felt
Don't tell me about the cards I've been dealt
You suffer too, we both suffocate
Can't ease our symptoms unless we medicate!

Angry you've been, angry I am!
You've walked in these shoes so you should understand!
Crimson is our bloodline, destroy what we hate!
I hate myself so it's only my fate!

Yet tell me I'm joking, call me a mimic
It ****** me off so I don't want to hear it!
How can you act like you knew all along
I don't ******* get it, YOU'RE SO ******* WRONG!

Authorities called, was a couple of years
Seeing you talking, confirmed all my fears
You haven't a clue, you don't understand,
I have no filters, I say what I am!

When I cry out for help and you tell them I'm fine
I can't confess these desires for crime!
You say there's no worry, you say I'm okay
WHO THE **** ARE YOU TO SAY!

You think you know me, you know nothing at all!
YOU, KNOW, NOTHING AT ALL!
YOU, KNOW, NOTHING AT ALL!
YOU, KNOW, ABSOLUTELY **** ALL!

So keep on talking, it amuses me so
This pain and this anguish, denied by your hope
Deluded you are, remember this thought:
No such roses, grow such thorns!
Shout out to my mate Calem, who's metal band is no longer called No Such Roses but is now called Signals

— The End —