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Valora Brave Nov 2012
I'm living with a cloud
angrily trapped, separated from belonging
expressive, loud

I'm living in stormy weather
hidden protection from the sky above
attacked by wind, blown like a feather

I'm staring at the unforgiving sun
seeking out superior potential
sifting through ideas
before I'm undone

I'm delivering a speech
bounded to my emotion
I bear it, desire to reach
full potential, operate in purposeful motion

I'm thriving and its not enough
I hear my voice
full of nonsense and fluff
it angers me. I search for substance
by traveling a further distance

I resent the forced truth
I can lose my shoes eternally
where I stand, but I can never escape
the limbs that fill them

I'm echoing off the rim
circle back, I wonder
where these shoes
have been
Cassie Welches Apr 2014
Sunlight makes its move beyond the safe Clouds.
Clouds finally let the Sunlight go free.

Sunlight reaches toward the awaiting greenery.
Clouds hesitate to question its judgment.

Sunlight grasps the hands of Earth.
Clouds spy on Sunlight's careful movements.

Sunlight heats the world in a clear embrace.
Clouds meander further away in hiding.

Sunlight ignites passion within the plants.
Clouds rely on an evaporation vice.

Sunlight relaxes in the west, pleased.
Clouds find solace in the salty air.

Sunlight wakes up to the smiling blossoms.
Clouds glare from a distance.

Sunlight gazes at its new abundance of fruit.
Clouds long for a sweet release.

Sunlight notices its once dear lover.
Clouds acknowledge Sunlight's attention.

Sunlight begins to scorch the ground.
Clouds play upon the mountains.

Sunlight angers at the coyness.
Clouds laugh at the needy air.

Sunlight intensifies to torch the trees.
Clouds begin to realize the desire.

Sunlight glances in the direction of its hope.
Clouds gather up courage to make its move.

Sunlight begs for saturated fulfillment.
Clouds glide toward Sunlight in sweet surrender.

Sunlight kisses its precious love.
Clouds cherish its tender caress.

Sunlight probes its worth by revealing true emotion.
Clouds relinquish control and release the passion.

Sunlight holds the clouds so dearly.
Clouds feel peace letting loose all emotion.

Sunlight stares amazed at the Clouds.
Clouds feel the warmth of Sunlight.

Sunlight makes its move beyond the safe Clouds.
Clouds yet again let the Sunlight go free.

Earth can't survive without this temperamental love affair.
Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010

This is not a poem.

But given the infernal catastrophe that has befallen, I just think it is time for you Americans to listen to us people living 'out there'.

Here are my thoghts, that I submit to you with respect;


Ayad Gharbawi

January 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria

The recent Haitian earthquake is unusual in that it has destroyed the entire meagre ‘infrastructure’ of a so-called nation.
In fact, this 2010 earthquake succeeded in showing the world that the so-called ‘country’ of Haiti is nothing more than another piece of estate/land/property for a select, few oligarchs.
Anyway, the US response to this ecological/environmental holocaust that has befallen upon Haiti has been unprecedented.
America, under President Barack Hussein Obama, has behaved impeccably in Haiti.
The brilliance in Obama’s aid for Haiti is successful precisely because he has avoided previous attempts by the US to help on the basis of ‘humanitarian’ grounds, when those grounds happened to also include conflicts raging within them.
Obama avoided the mistake of getting America involved in a humanitarian crises that existed within a civil war – like what happened in Lebanon (1982-83), Somalia (1991-3), Bosnia (1995), Kosovo (1999).
I write this article because I, as an outsider, wish ardently, to speak to you Americans.
Today, you Americans have the choice: either to follow the militaristic, expansionist policies of the US President, Theodore Roosevelt, or you may follow the path of the first morally-guided President of the US - Woodrow Wilson.
I urge you Americans to leave all countries where there are civil wars – such as in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen and so on.
Let these countries do whatever their people wish to do against each other.
Instead, allow your great arsenal of democracy to help and intervene on humanitarian missions – in countries wherein there are no civil wars – such as you have been doing so magnificently in Haiti.
Use your power, your wealth, your US Army, Air Force, and Navy to help humans who need the helping hand of succour.
I tell you, that you Americans, once you adopt this peaceful, moral foreign; policy, you shall see that your enemies will fade.
Taleban have told you repeatedly, and have repeatedly contacted to you, telling you that they are engaged in an Afghani civil war. So why do you intrude?
Al Qaeda have told you repeatedly if you leave the Middle East, then they have no quarrel with you.
Why can you Americans not accept or understand that so long as you do not invade, occupy or create military bases in foreign lands, no one, and no organization and no party and no country will see you as an enemy?
This is a moment for you Americans do finally break off from the Theodore Roosevelt Principle (TRP) which is to attack, ****, slaughter and occupy any country you think is ‘worth it’.
And, at the same time, it is also a moment in history, when you can fully embrace the Woodrow Wilson Principle (WWP) of a foreign policy that is based on morality.
What you have done and what you are doing in Haiti is a pure act of WWP.
I believe the entire Third World applauds you and loves you for what your men and women are doing for the innocent victims of Haiti.
But, then, when other men and women, scream and shriek, saying: “Look at what these Americans are doing! They ****, butcher and ****** Afghans in order to support corrupt, drug dealing gangsters such as Hamid Karzai who, themselves, cannot control and, in any case, are not interested in ‘controlling’ their own country! So what else can you think of America’s real intentions?”
And what a good emotion-fuelled question, indeed.
What are you Americans doing fighting, losing American and Afghani blood in order to basically prop up and support criminal regimes such as the Karzai regime, whose only raison d’etre is to make profits through their various ‘business’ activities?
The more you Americans fight what are perceived as unjust, colonialist wars, the more you will create terrorists. It is a never ending cycle!
I argue and I passionately believe, that you Americans can do this. If only you US statesmen and stateswomen finally decide to adopt the beautiful, clean mantle of morality in your foreign policy.
Obviously, I do not have enough space to express my ideas and reasons. So, let me be clear: I am not advocating a slavish enactment of Wilsonian principles.
For, as an example, when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, the US had to make a military move, because no country can allow a sick dictator to control so much of the world’s oil. There are clear instances when aggression abroad can seriously threaten US interests. But, in truth, the vast majority of the wars you Americans entered, were unnecessary: you did not need to go beyond the Yalu in 1950 in Korea; you did not need to enter the North-South Vietnamese Civil War.
Take Kosovo: yes massacres were committed on all sides. But you did not need to bomb Serbia. First and foremost, that should and must have been a problem for European powers to solve. Secondly, Kosovo was never vital for US interests. And the fact is, Kosovo could never be a so-called ‘state’. Today, it is nothing more than a geographical area run by warlords, drug dealers and other gangsters who each carve out their own territory. Was that piece of gangster-run land worthy of killing Serbians? No!
Take North Korea: let Russian, South Korea and Japan deal with that abnormal so-called state. Why do you spend money on your troops and camps there? It is not in your interests and yes, North Korea does not threaten you Americans!
The same goes for Iraq in 2003 – you did not need to invade that country for the simple reason that Baghdad posed no threat to its neighbours, and certainly no threat to Europe or to the US.  Again, you should have let the Iraqis themselves solve whatever problems they have on their fragmented plate.
You must see and feel that US lives are not expendable for pointless and futile foreign adventures.
America should help those who have suffered environmental catastrophes and who are in a war-free zone.
America should help stable, developing nations where accountability starts from Washington and right back in – Washington.
And yes, of course, America should only use its military might if it is directly threatened by any person, nation or organization.
And to reduce this hatred that has spawned against you: I tell you, a voice from a wilderness, one mute krill from amongst billions yearning for exactly what I yearn for, I tell you: remove your military bases from Europe, Japan, South America, the Gulf, and anywhere else. These military bases are seen by people as ‘evidence’ of occupation. You do not need to keep these costly outposts. Remove them. Reduce your military presence that, in any way, has no effect, except to increase fanaticism and anger amongst your people. This is especially so in the Gulf, where your presence angers the people – leave those countries and yes, you will then reduce your costs, which is obviously beneficial to you Americans.
Instead of military compounds and bases, why not enthusiastically create consortiums of companies to build American schools, universities, hospitals, housing projects and get involved in building infrastructure projects in nations that have good accountability, so no money is wasted and so can never go, instead, straight to the pockets of the leaders.
Build the world; use your superpower might to create hope in broken nations, and that effort will, in turn, build love and you shall see, your enemies shall decrease and your military costs will decrease and your building projects will bring you greater revenues.
The choice is yours: follow a Wilsonian foreign policy or a Theodore Roosevelt foreign policy.
I hope the Haitian earthquake catastrophe has shed some light on which path US foreign policy should take.

Ayad Gharbawi
Among the mountains and oceans we claimed,
Environments we no longer know,
Starvation from the knowledge lacked.
Strange men of unknown origin push us away
With feathered spears and their spirits
Flying above us like the angels we seek.

The spread of our culture like margarine
Angers the earth it's ancestors tread on;
War and thievery. Disease and infection
Was wildfire in a land containing no such
Immunities to the harshness.

First cities died as infants, stillborns
Of history and freedom, yet
They survived in their determination.
Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies,
costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce, shops, law, science,
work, forms, clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating,
drinking, suffering, dying.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

O I have been dilatory and dumb;
I should have made my way straight to you long ago;
I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you.

I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of you;
None have understood you, but I understand you;
None have done justice to you—you have not done justice to yourself;
None but have found you imperfect—I only find no imperfection in you;
None but would subordinate you—I only am he who will never consent
to subordinate you;
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond
what waits intrinsically in yourself.

Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the centre figure of all;
From the head of the centre figure spreading a nimbus of gold-color’d light;
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of
gold-color’d light;
From my hand, from the brain of every man and woman it streams,
effulgently flowing forever.

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are—you have slumber’d upon yourself
all your life;
Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time;
What you have done returns already in mockeries;
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries,
what is their return?)

The mockeries are not you;
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk;
I pursue you where none else has pursued you;
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustom’d routine,
if these conceal you from others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you
from me;
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if these balk others,
they do not balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed, premature death,
all these I part aside.

There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you;
There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but as good is in you;
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you;
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.

As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give the like carefully to you;
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs
of the glory of you.

Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows—these interminable rivers—you are immense
and interminable as they;
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of apparent dissolution—
you are he or she who is master or mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements, pain, passion, dissolution.

The hopples fall from your ankles—you find an unfailing sufficiency;
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest, whatever you are
promulges itself;
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided, nothing is scanted;
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what you are picks its way.
They say jealousys the ugliest trait,but,
I can't help but feel the disgusting ping         of envy when your smiling at her .

My throat clogs up with thirst for your attention .It  angers me when you let there nasty slutty hands go up and down your biceps .

When they call you crazy red is all I see .

Don't you see what you do to me ?
This is for anyone whoes crush doesn't notice them
storm siren Jun 2016
You're sitting in the hospital bed.
You're smiling but you're crying.
You're telling the nurses over and over and over
"He's not a bad person."
"I don't want you to think he's a bad person."
"He didn't mean for this to happen."
(Just like, later on, you have to tell your friends and his friends and your family and his family the same things)

They shake their heads at you, but smile and squeeze
Your hand or shoulder comfortingly.
You won't realize this until later,
But you were so far in denial
And everyone knew it.

You're in your new therapists office.
He's asking you to recall a time men didn't scare you.
You smile and say,
"What? Men don't scare me."

He frowns and reaches for a tissue,
And you flinch.
His frown deepens as he hands you the tissue,
You realize you've been crying for the entire session.

It's the day before your anniversary with him.
You've been fighting for the whole week.
You just want to talk to him,
Figure out why he's so mad at you.
Why he keeps taking it out on you.

So you bring it up,
While you try to prepare dinner.
Knowing that if you say the wrong word,
You might have to figure out a new place
To sleep for awhile.

He says something, stands up.
You're thinking the whole time:
"How did it get this bad?
What did you do wrong this time?
Why do you always do this?"
You flinch.
Your back is against the stove that you haven't turned on yet.

There's a flare of anger and pain in his eyes
As he tells you,
Trying not to yell,
"I won't hurt you!"

You realize that you're scared of him.
That you're not just in this relationship because you love him.
You're there because you fear him.

And you think to yourself
"How can I be so stupid?
I was in the last one because I was afraid.
I wasn't in love.
But I love him.
Why am I scared of him?
He won't hurt me."

But he gets mad, and slams things.
Hits himself.
And you realize it's because he won't hit you.
But he wants to hit you.

Things only ever get worse,
And sooner or later
Due to his friends advice,
You leave for two days
To give him some space.
He says he'll pick you up,
That Sunday from your friends house.

He arrives on Sunday, a little over an hour late.
He hasn't spoken to you all weekend.
You want to attribute the fear to your abuse and anxiety.
But when he shows up,
He brought most of your things.
He breaks up with you on her porch,
With cliches like
"We met at the wrong time."
"It's not you, it's me."
"I don't want this to be the end."

And you realize,
He's just painting himself as the good guy.

But he's not a good guy.

Because the one time you were honest with him
About how bad you were getting,
And you weren't even there for it because you black out when overwhelmed,
He used it so he could be the victim.
Twisted it so the suicidal girl had to comfort him because it made him lose trust in you.

And he's telling and told all his friends
That you use your mental illness
To manipulate him.

And you want to scream at him,
Because you've never done that.
He's used his everything
To twist you up.

You should have run for the hills the moment he got mad
At you for having an anxiety attack in the car
In public,
"I hate when you do this. It makes other people think I abuse you."

Because that was the moment
He probably realized he was doing exactly that.

And you should have run as far as you could,
Because that was two months before it ended,
And it only got worse.
He only got worse.

And you shouldn't have stayed,
Because he was this way from the beginning.
He has thin skin and angers too easily.
Would throw grown-up tantrums
When something went wrong
When you told him he was wrong
Or told him he hurt you.

You should have run.
You should have cut ties.

Love cannot heal someone
Who doesn't want to be healed.

And he didn't heal you
He made you worse.

But he won't be the one to break you.

Because a wolf in sheeps clothing
Will always be just that.
People will see the sheep
That sometimes gets a little too close
To the meat at dinner,
That sometimes disappears.

And a rescue dog
Will always have that pain,
But that doesn't mean you can't be happy
One day.

And that wolf in sheeps clothing,
He promised he wasn't a wolf.
He promised he wouldn't do this.
That he was just a sheep.
But what do promises mean
To monsters
(This doesn't go in chronological order, for those who are curious)
Vinnie Brown Jun 2013
There is a man I see from time to time
His eyes look like they have seen my sorrows
His smile looks as if it is mocking my happiness
His scar on his eyebrow brings back some foreign memory
His ungroomed ****** hair reminds me of when I lost even the will to shave
His arrogance is relatable in almost everyway
His confidence gives me jealousy
His smirk angers me
Angers me to the point where I am enraged
In this enraged stupor I react irrationally
My fist within seconds is going to connect to his skin
His skin which looks so familiar but so unknown
Blood trickles from my hand as I pull the broken pieces of glass from it
The mirror is cracked and shattered
The insanity is much clearer now
His sorrows, happiness, scars, ****** hair, arrogance, confidence, and smirk yes they are quite relatable
The hauntings of this man that I see from time to time I hope do change for the man I see
My heart goes out to him
For he is me
My third installment I hope everyone enjoys it, I was listening to sensible heart by city and colour while writing it.
What brief utterance this, the color of time

That gives more meaning than language can hold

To force a confrontation between unresolvable contradictions

Such as make malleable a gracious hospitality to ******

And sound trumpets of unwarranted discord

That lie and lament the reputation and experience of damage

Hold forth the envious clouds of displacement

To provide for the vicious energies of hate

Those oppressive weights of past problems

That enactment of intense and exhausting experience

Which embalms the tears of fresh bleeding

Without impediment dictates the human existence

Where the mistress of aggressive thought finds

Extremity of dire mishap a strenuous protest

Leads to well meaning certainty of illusion

And asks, art thou so in love with masks that you

Would transform thyself and as such

Bind a loyalty of angers to thy touch
Waverly Aug 2012
Thai China

It quiets

I'm at the end of my stamina,
me and you,
we've had a few beers;
got to talking;
and BAM!!!:


The business crowd
goes crazy
for some Thai China.

The tempers
over hot bowls of white rice
(costing $5)
that steam up into
hooked noses.

Our lips,
juicy by now,
are so numb
we gave up talking a minute a go.

And got into a *****, male mood.

We just stare at the girls,
the waitresses,
wanting to **** them
in our nasty dreams.

Wanting to stick
our *****
but we just get drunker
and drunker
and stir over
our bowls of rice.

The business
of business
our suppressed urges
and office angers
by the mouthful.
Ash Aug 2018
Eyes a bitter shade of red
Breaths coming in quick and heavy
Throat pains because of our yelling
Emotions drained from this Fights

Logic crying out for someone to cool off
Though some things  shifted now
The staring contest has began
A **** match that involves eyes now

Eyes drifting lower
Foreplay with the touch of our eyes.
Angers metamorphosis to lust.
It begins with you moving towards me
Me pinned up against this wall
Our bodies talking loud
Taking us to a place
So intense it's beyond bliss
Where we don't come out of for a long time.

Now we lay here in these sheets
Cuddling,head on your chest
Repeating our mantra  
Our bodies share a language
This is how we loss pieces of our hearts to each other.

This is how we keep coming back for more.
One smart-*** mouth to the other,
Knowing this is a journey towards bliss
Pearl smoke Jun 2018
Scared Prt 1.
iM Scared Of Losing What
iHave Left.
iM Scared Of Seeing What
iHave Left Go Away.
iM Scared Of Disappointing
My Loved Ones Again.
iM Scared Of Being Reminded
What the reality of Drugs.                        can do once again.
iM Scared iF iM Sober Then Fall
iWont Ever Change again
iM Scared The Drugs Can
Take over me Like it Has before
Once more.
Scared Of Feeling Numb And Live The Whole Drug Addiction Cycle all over.

Scared prt 2.

I Relapsed & Now I'm worried.
Will I Go back to my old ways?
As much as I desire The Feeling of escaping my reality,
I can't live Like that. I don't want to be a drug addict all over again.
The Feeling Is pleasant . The Living of being 1 Is Horrific.

Scared prt 3
I’m scared
Of never finding hope
To believe my life has no worth
To never finding a light
To get lost in the
Darkness of my depression.
Im Scared
To never feel true happiness
To believe I have
No purpose in life.
To see I really don’t matter ..
I’m scared to prove
Myself right.
To really never start a life.
I’m scared to
Then lose my self again
To lonely nights with toxic touches

Scared prt 4

Be aware
I’m not scared like I used to be.
To lose  you, see you walk out.
Watch you leave & end us.
I have drugs.
To replace you,
Forget who you were
Erases our memories & best times.
Be aware
If you do me *****, I don’t care.
Drugs will always be there .
Il depend to forever not feel..
If you leave me, I won’t cry.
I have lines to get me past times.
So please know , I’m not scared.
To be left ,

Scared prt 5

I’m Trapped.
I’m not ok , I’m not safe.
The habits creeping up.
Slowly but rapidly.
I believe I got it together.
I tell myself I got it under control.
But do I really?
Relapsing after 2yrs is making an impact.
I’ve been falling frequently.
For a short time but I’m still using .
It will take ahold of me unexpectedly.
Slowly convince me this Drug life’s worth risking .
I need help .
I look fine.
I haven’t used severely but my minds hyped.
Il Get To that level.
If I don’t reach out in time.
My thoughts are converting slow
I can feel the careless emotions growing.
That’s why I’ve found it so easy to use and get away with it.
“Just today” “it’s only alittle” “I can handle this”
That’s until I build up my tolerance.
Lord Help me .. you know il cause heartbreaks if I turn back to what I Once was..


I’m so scared.
To get played again .
To get lied and betrayed.
I’m scared of my reaction.
I know il die alive.
I won’t even have the strength to ****** you.
I’d be so broken and just let the world walk all over me.
If you Do me *****
I’d lose it completely.
You’d prove all my doubts correct.
Assumptions I already knew were true in my head.
If you play me, Id lose my head.
Literally, go insane due to confusion & hate.
If you hurt me.
Drugs is what I’m going to be out searching.
Not even ask for an explanation.
I’d be too focused walking straight ahead to my connects house.
If you do me shady.
I Will Be angry at the world.
Scream to the top of my lungs
I would drown myself in drugs.
I’d hate the world completely for hurting me when I’ve done none wrong.
I’d go So crazy.
How can I So Loyal Be Played With.
Etcetc can’t even write more

Scared prt 6

Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared prt 7.
I’m scared
To Relapse & Stay Stuck
To give up recovery
I’m scared to
Look at you and walk away forever.
To just not care wether you believed I truly loved you.
I’m scared
For my love to be trapped
For all My strength to be gone
Lose it all ,
I’m crying.
Addiction will forever live in me
Wether Active or Overcomed
This drug will Always come
Aslong as I’m Happy , Positive
I won’t want to take a hit
But Even if nothing’s going on
My body & mind will randomly itch.
Ive been walking with this for too long to just erase it .
To forget I had a habit .

Scared prt 8
Jan 2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared Part 9
Am I Fine.
Will I not rack a line.
Never touch a Rock in my life.

Am I Good.
Will I not Use again .
Will temptations not be seen as threats ?
Can I handle.
My urges to not Tweak again.
Will my triggers Be nothing to worry about?

Will I never feel tempted.
Have I finally over come every Obstacle of addiction?

I’m sorry.
I’ve worsen , I’m stuck once again.
This time it will be harder .
I’m a recovering addict
Stuck in a constant relapse Cycle.
What must I do
Should I sit & wait
On my next down fall ..


March 2018
I Didn’t notice.
Like always
I believed I had it all under control.
Everything was ok.
Everything seemed fine.
I felt normal,
I would stop soon.

I was Wrong ..
I Fell Down So quick.
I went hard.
No dubs or teeners.
I went straight to a Ball.
I just went all out.

I lost myself again.
I Lost control of the substance.
I Was trapped.
It became a problem.
One I wasn’t aware of.
I Had no recognition of at all.
I Didn’t see that I couldn’t stop.
I kept going
Kept using without seeing the frequency.
The days spent stuck.
I lost touch with reality.
This previous Relapse
Has been the worst in my life .
I haven’t had a binge like this time since 2015.
I used every day .
For 6 1/2 Weeks.
I lost track of the days & time.
I Sniffed & Smoked 2 8 ***** all to my self.

At the time I didn’t see how crazy that was.
Those weeks, an 8 didn’t surprise me.
The amount didn’t shock or Worry me.

I was fine , I had control.
I was doing ok , everything seemed & felt normal.
It was just a small relapse.

I was wrong
I lost touch with reality.
I formed a habit .
I was addicted again .

The sad part is
I’m able to acknowledge this Only through writing.
In real life , my denial mind
I’m able to handle my addiction. I’m ok & Dont have a problem.

It angers me.
Since my 1st Relapse
In August.
I’ve Fallen Very often.
It saddens me.
How I quickly Skipped
The Weight.
Why does it worry me?
My mind will no longer seek a Dub when I’m triggered to use.
It will want Another ball.

Anything less
My Addictive mind
no longer craves.
It now settles for Big.
This relapse has changed the game for my addict ways.
I’ve Relapsed every month
Since August.
I Had it all under control.
I Was able to use and stop.
Just this last time
I completely lost it.

Scared prt 11

I’m scared .
To lose my strength.
Have no durability.
To Give in So quick.
Be that weak
Where I don’t fear Tweak.
Find it easy
To just go seek.

I’m Worried
To reach that level .
Just Relapse constantly .
not care who Knows.
My problems
Have me overwhelmed.
Every day
The Stress grows .
I can’t bare another
Tug & Pull.
Chloe Sep 2015
My phone buzzes with a text
His eyes dart over, blood shot red.
The angers coming out, palms start to sweat.
I always begged him not to do ****.
"Who the ******* textin! Let me ****** read!"
This is how it starts, manipulating my heart,
And beating till I bleed.
I say "***** you don't even own me.
You barely even know me!
Your a ****** fiend and a ****** who claims to only smoke ****,
but I know youll never get clean.
Youre an unemployed mommy's boy at the age of 23.
Stop slapping me around and be the **** you claim to be.
If your so ******* then why don't you **** me?"
Suddenly I've got a rope around my neck being dragged across the floor.
His eyes go black as he dishes out more.
Now I'm in the middle of the street,
how the **** did I get here? 
I never moved my own feet.
He tackled me to the pavement and I started to scream.
There's a man on the sidewalk ignoring my pleas.
The cops showed up but I denied all these things.
He's sitting in jail but I'll never press charges.
He's got a couple felonies and they found needles in his apartment.
I know he's dangerous but deep down he's sweet.
He only hit me a little, and never put me towards death.
Everyone hates woman that stick up for their beating so I'll lay it to rest.
Maybe my minds just distorted from trying to save a monster on ****.
Jacob Mayhew Nov 2012
I'm hyper and really just want to write,
I tried to write you a Sestina,
But those old forms of poems are really hard to stick.
So instead I thought I might
Be able to show you something new;
Something that hopefully won't make you sick.

You see, it's 4 o'clock in the morning now,
And I have too much energy,
Perhaps it's just the spiced wine and tea.
I wish we were on a ship's bow
So i could hold you up
And let you watch the waves of the sea

Crash against the boat. But we aren't on a ship,
or near the ocean, or even together.
Not yet anyway, though perhaps one day we will.
We were each supposed to place a pack upon our hip
and hit the woods for a while.
That didn't work out. But it's all good still,

Because that was only once chance in a thousand!
Every day there are tons of chances.
Perhaps we can go sometime to the woods,
Just us, and the sky, walking over all that solitary land.
Then at night, when the moon comes out,
We say goodnight and cuddle, if you would?

I want my energy back, this ****** illness took it away
And I'm just not right without it.
I think I'm losing you to someone, that you're almost gone.
I thin about it a lot, when I'm awake, almost every day.
It hurts everywhere, not just the heart.
I care too much, and fear that your anger has been drawn

Out by my constant want to see you, or hear your voice.
So I tell myself not to talk,
Because you don't want to respond: -- but then you smile.
When you smile I no longer have a choice,
I have to talk.
It compels my very soul to talk; and write; and go that extra mile.

Then I realize that I am lost in a world I do not know.
That the extra mile no where near me,
So I can't possibly run far enough to go down it.
I just want very badly to be able to go
For you.
Though this is something to you I can't admit.

We don't talk much any more, or hang out,
or do anything really.
I bet it is my fault, that I did something to you,
Because it is always me that is such a clout.
What did I do?
Is it because I kissed you when you had the flu?

I said I didn't care and kissed you when you were sick
because I thought... I thought
It might have made you happy knowing that I didn't care.
But I guess that didn't matter, it just showed that I am thick
and oafish where you're concerned.
Though I'm glad you decided to come over to my lair,

At least that once, two weeks ago, when last we really kissed.
Don't worry, no one will see this,
It is too real, has to much of me in it, and too much of you.
We talked a lot, you learned me, and let me learn you, and that will be missed.
If you decided that I must leave,
I will listen, whatever you say, though for a while I will be blue.

I am jealous of the other that you see when you want.
It angers me, but
That was the deal we made that day:
That I would wait, and keep my emotions gaunt
So you could have you fun.
And I just want to be serious, and date you in every way.

I don't know what all that means, but I will be here.
If I leave you now
No one else will come along for me.
So I will wait right over there,
You see that corner?
Yes, the one by the tree is where I will be.

So please (please), just come sit with me and talk,
And hold my hand.
I need to know what love is.
Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names
And then away, away, like whirling flames;
And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound,
The youth and lady and the deer and hound;
'Gaze no more on the phantoms,' Niamh said,
And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head
And her bright body, sang of faery and man
Before God was or my old line began;
Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old
Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold;
And how those lovers never turn their eyes
Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies,
Yet love and kiss on dim shores far away
Rolled round with music of the sighing spray:
Yet sang no more as when, like a brown bee
That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea
With me in her white arms a hundred years
Before this day; for now the fall of tears
Troubled her song.

                   I do not know if days
Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays
Shone many times among the glimmering flowers
Woven into her hair, before dark towers
Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed
About them; and the horse of Faery screamed
And shivered, knowing the Isle of Many Fears,
Nor ceased until white Niamh stroked his ears
And named him by sweet names.

                              A foaming tide
Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide,
Burst from a great door matred by many a blow
From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago
When gods and giants warred.  We rode between
The seaweed-covered pillars; and the green
And surging phosphorus alone gave light
On our dark pathway, till a countless flight
Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right
Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide
Upon dark thrones.  Between the lids of one
The imaged meteors had flashed and run
And had disported in the stilly jet,
And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set,
Since God made Time and Death and Sleep:  the other
Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother,
The stream churned, churned, and churned - his lips apart,
As though he told his never-slumbering heart
Of every foamdrop on its misty way.
Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay
Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stair
And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were
Hung from the morning star; when these mild words
Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds:
'My brothers spring out of their beds at morn,
A-murmur like young partridge:  with loud horn
They chase the noontide deer;
And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air
Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare
An ashen hunting spear.
O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me;
Flutter along the froth lips of the sea,
And shores the froth lips wet:
And stay a little while, and bid them weep:
Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep,
And shake their coverlet.
When you have told how I weep endlessly,
Flutter along the froth lips of the sea
And home to me again,
And in the shadow of my hair lie hid,
And tell me that you found a man unbid,
The saddest of all men.'

A lady with soft eyes like funeral tapers,
And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours,
And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous
As any ruddy moth, looked down on us;
And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied
To two old eagles, full of ancient pride,
That with dim eyeballs stood on either side.
Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings,
For their dim minds were with the ancient things.

'I bring deliverance,' pearl-pale Niamh said.

'Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead,
Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight
My enemy and hope; demons for fright
Jabber and scream about him in the night;
For he is strong and crafty as the seas
That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees,
And I must needs endure and hate and weep,
Until the gods and demons drop asleep,
Hearing Acdh touch thc mournful strings of gold.'

'Is he so dreadful?'
                     'Be not over-bold,
But fly while still you may.'
                              And thereon I:
'This demon shall be battered till he die,
And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide.'
'Flee from him,' pearl-pale Niamh weeping cried,
'For all men flee the demons'; but moved not
My angry king-remembering soul one jot.
There was no mightier soul of Heber's line;
Now it is old and mouse-like.  For a sign
I burst the chain:  still earless, neNeless, blind,
Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind,
In some dim memory or ancient mood,
Still earless, netveless, blind, the eagles stood.

And then we climbed the stair to a high door;
A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor
Beneath had paced content:  we held our way
And stood within:  clothed in a misty ray
I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float
Under the roof, and with a straining throat
Shouted, and hailed him:  he hung there a star,
For no man's cry shall ever mount so far;
Not even your God could have thrown down that hall;
Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall,
He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart,
As though His hour were come.

                              We sought the part
That was most distant from the door; green slime
Made the way slippery, and time on time
Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it
The captive's journeys to and fro were writ
Like a small river, and where feet touched came
A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame.
Under the deepest shadows of the hall
That woman found a ring hung on the wall,
And in the ring a torch, and with its flare
Making a world about her in the air,
Passed under the dim doorway, out of sight,
And came again, holding a second light
Burning between her fingers, and in mine
Laid it and sighed:  I held a sword whose shine
No centuries could dim, and a word ran
Thereon in Ogham letters, 'Manannan';
That sea-god's name, who in a deep content
Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent
Out of the sevenfold seas, built the dark hall
Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all
The mightier masters of a mightier race;
And at his cry there came no milk-pale face
Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood,
But only exultant faces.

                         Niamh stood
With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone,
But she whose hours of tenderness were gone
Had neither hope nor fear.  I bade them hide
Under the shadowS till the tumults died
Of the loud-crashing and earth-shaking fight,
Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight;
And ****** the torch between the slimy flags.
A dome made out of endless carven jags,
Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face,
Looked down on me; and in the self-same place
I waited hour by hour, and the high dome,
Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home
Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze
Was loaded with the memory of days
Buried and mighty.  When through the great door
The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor
With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall
And found a door deep sunken in the wall,
The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain
A little mnnel made a bubbling strain,
And on the runnel's stony and bare edge
A dusky demon dry as a withered sedge
Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue:
In a sad revelry he sang and swung
Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro
His hand along the runnel's side, as though
The flowers still grew there:  far on the sea's waste
Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased,
While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light,
Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright,
Hung in the passionate dawn.  He slowly turned:
A demon's leisure:  eyes, first white, now burned
Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose
Barking.  We trampled up and down with blows
Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day
Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way;
And when he knew the sword of Manannan
Amid the shades of night, he changed and ran
Through many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat
Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote
A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top;
And thereupon I drew the livid chop
Of a drowned dripping body to my breast;
Horror from horror grew; but when the west
Had surged up in a plumy fire, I drave
Through heart and spine; and cast him in the wave
Lest Niamh shudder.

                    Full of hope and dread
Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread,
And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers
That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine;
Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea-shine,
We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine,
Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay
Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day;
And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept.
And when the sun once more in saffron stept,
Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep,
We sang the loves and angers without sleep,
And all the exultant labours of the strong.
But now the lying clerics ****** song
With barren words and flatteries of the weak.
In what land do the powerless turn the beak
Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath?
For all your croziers, they have left the path
And wander in the storms and clinging snows,
Hopeless for ever:  ancient Oisin knows,
For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies
On the anvil of the world.

S.  Patrick.        Be still:  the skies
Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind,
For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind;
Go cast your body on the stones and pray,
For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day.

Oisin. Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder
The ****** horses; atmour torn asunder;
Laughter and cries.  The armies clash and shock,
And now the daylight-darkening ravens flock.
Cease, cease, O mournful, laughing ****** horn!

We feasted for three days.  On the fourth morn
I found, dropping sea-foam on the wide stair,
And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair,
That demon dull and unsubduable;
And once more to a day-long battle fell,
And at the sundown threw him in the surge,
To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge
His new-healed shape; and for a hundred years
So watred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears,
Nor languor nor fatigue:  an endless feast,
An endless war.

                The hundred years had ceased;
I stood upon the stair:  the surges bore
A beech-bough to me, and my heart grew sore,
Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn
Under a beech at Almhuin and heard the thin
Outcry of bats.

                And then young Niamh came
Holding that horse, and sadly called my name;
I mounted, and we passed over the lone
And drifting greyness, while this monotone,
Surly and distant, mixed inseparably
Into the clangour of the wind and sea.

'I hear my soul drop down into decay,
And Mananna's dark tower, stone after stone.
Gather sea-slime and fall the seaward way,
And the moon goad the waters night and day,
That all be overthrown.

'But till the moon has taken all, I wage
War on the mightiest men under the skies,
And they have fallen or fled, age after age.
Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage;
His purpose drifts and dies.'

And then lost Niamh murmured, 'Love, we go
To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo!
The Islands of Dancing and of Victories
Are empty of all power.'

                         'And which of these
Is the Island of Content?'

                           'None know,' she said;
And on my ***** laid her weeping head.
vircapio gale Jun 2012
a thunderclap of time is splitting forward all,
the wanderlust of youth                     to grim,
the shedding of the fall                        to whim,
the balmy boon of spring                        to sin,
dividing rife exotic rain
from dry ephedra sprawl,
streaming sunlight angled in
for an ever-quaking earthwise view.

din clatter to escape with dryad love
the hackberry staff of age,
will only rouse the voice of life
to rake its noisome wisdom where i trod,
despite my neophytic whines,
echoed deep in aether cave
of cobwebbed narthex eye
and sage to say the ever-new adage,
'Physis surrounds you too, by the Cycle always bound; live, defy, but soon heed destruction's sound'
..from thickets widely known
to those entrancing dark,
in winged voice alone,
and burning angers lark..
"so, these hooves of sharpened sense are but a poor recompense, when time will wash and slap away the stars. winding words around your path are but a mortal aftermath of vanity and heady lust astray..."
but when scars of war are more than scars,
and vanity and lust are here,
i'd rather spin a tale than trail a tear
across a continent in shards.
through land thick with mind, our
much trodden moss of reveries, and
dimlight gyrewinds of overmind,
the spell our mythos cast
was not for me, but many kinds of me--
the sparkling soup of life in time
shining toward an end and of a kind
of dawning leap the soaking leaf
must make from under rain, at last
for fatal progeny to bend awake
from drifting seed and hapful bed,
by wolfine sleekness take
the ****** consequence in hand:
with final gust incurvate rend
forestal haze of drunken bloom--
the satyr's gait of musky sates
speaks of pleasures gleaned from
blushings red embraced in rooted green
pervading summer night.
bright, bright! inner light is spent
twining two experiments
of cryptic faerie nooks
and sun-baked lace of vines,
the whimper glint of cool delight
on cheeksweat riding trunks of sprite
of bubbling springs and gossamer lives,
unbridled canopy of sighs.

twirling softly, colors *** for bee
and butterfly, prying life and fertile
nectars pour with ease spread brighter still
and sighing on to sip the spell to last...
but sweet is over always soon, for
'honey never drips from lazy hive
nor pollen drift off sickly drone.'
the tempest comes, effluxive force
of noontide awe and verging grin,
battered branching sways the forest new,
with willows whisking seeds from under dew.
Erica Chen Aug 2010
It has nothing to do with the manipulation,
she said. I don’t mind living under a
Shadow, by a thread, or a loaded gun.
It’s the openness that angers me, you
know, they seize every secret inside
my most intimate idea, and scoff at it.
Even something covert like missing you.
I think I am losing it...
When I see you I smile,
I kiss you, and am embraced by you.
It used to all see from the heart, now it's just an act.

I wish it to be like before, only for it to worsen.
I keep control of myself in the presence of you and other.
When inside I am broken, shattered.

You told me you loved me,
That you would always be faithful to me.
Lie after lie, I believed it to be true.

Suspicions of deceit, I ignored.
For I trusted you, and that trust you abused.
For so long you let me live in a blinded truth.

When truth came to show,
My suspicions were right all along.
My foolish love clouded my judgment, and  the real you I never knew.

You cheated on all the others,
Why did I believe that I would be different.
We planned out our futures, a child on the way.
Even a wedding someday.

No longer am I blind. I now see everything.
My trust, my love, my desire for you will never be that same.
In my blindness you embraced me, said you loved me, forever faithful to me.

It angers me to know that I had once loved a cheaters embrace.
Engulfed my self in a cheaters kiss.
All untrue, now to me and you.

For you cheating was left our love lost in an unseen mist.
My trust in you, forever gone.
My love to you, forever hesitant.
Styles Aug 2014
Don't let perception of the Weak-Minded kind get the best of your reality.
With editing, other people's words get twisted and misalign clarity.
Envy hardly reflects the truth- if so, it's a rarity.
Lurking under a cloud called obscurity- often they hide.
These Weak-Minded kind.
Thriving off of the pain of those they casually misguide.
Stirring up emotions then they run off to the side.
Cowards, these Weak-Minded kind.
Watching as two half-truths try to coincide.
Cut and pasted, the truth gets lost in time.
Feelings start to hurt as hateful words collide.
Repeating things never said,
But overheard more than a few times.
Angers flare,
As words fly.
Regrets of all kinds,
slip and slide,
Breaking ties,
damaging pride.
Fine on the outside,
Scared for life,
on the inside.
All because the Weak-Minded kind, rather lie.
It's people like this I despise.
Hidden behind their friendly disguise.
To afraid to show their face; but diss guys.
When you confront them; get no replies.
Just a shocked dumb look in their eyes.
These weak minded people are a waste of time.
They can't make up their mind half of the time.
So they are basically lying, all of the time.
Having a good-time, ruining your good time.
They only way to beat them; don't pay them no mind.
Best way to **** parasites, especially the Weak-Minded kind.
wordvango Oct 2014
there are
times a man needs to be alone/
If he is flicking his Bic,
Handling his candle
lighting his wick.
Paddling his tool
pulling his tool into alignment.
Spanking the monkey
stretching his muscle
it angers his Mother
since he forgot, again,
to lock the ******* door.
Miranda Renea May 2013
It's kind of funny.
I see all these girls,
Beautiful girls,
Perfect hair,
Perfect body,
Perfect skin,
Talk of pain.
Write of pain.
Cry of pain.

But what of pain
Do they really know?
Don't love me,
They say,
I am broken-
I am insignificant-
I have walls-
And every man
Falls into their hand
Like they planned,
I suppose.

It angers me,
You see, for

I am lacking
Perfect hair,
A perfect body,
And perfect skin.
I talk of pain.
I write of pain.
I cry of pain but,

I am alone.
Iris Nyx Feb 2016
It is eagerly that I prepare
Turning out lights and *******
Setting aside the following days necessities
And brushing my hair

My heart dances when I see
The black sheets and tossled comforter
Against the matte sky peaking through my window
I sit and sink
Into the noisy springs
And flattened pillows

And almost immediately I descend into
Another bed of another life
In my desperate mind

And it is then that I forget
I'm between the sweet haze of otherworldly dreams
And among the vibrant feelings and happy ventures
The dull muted droll of my own life

And in the blue mornings
As I wake to chronic angers and patient responsibility
Inevitably the cloak of heavy unsatisfaction and disappointment
Settle onto my shoulders

And as before I carry on with my day
Counting the seconds
And blissfully dreaming
Of the bed that waits for me at home
I've started dreaming again, and just like that I never want to wake up
The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knock-narea,
And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.
Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;
But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,
For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;
Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;
But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood
Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
It angers me
How much I could love you
How much I would weep
How much I would plead
How I'd break my own arms
Hell I even tore at my body
To understand
To become
To know
How I destroyed it once
How we could save us
It angers me how I killed myself daily
How I tried
How in the end we both went numb
We both stopped seeing it
We didn't change
We just grew older
It angers me
That we both died
For nothing
Sequel for To Crush It
raina Feb 2014
it hurts me when people could describe you easily with one word
while i stuck when it comes to you and to me you worth a lot more than a single word

it saddens me when people thought they knew you better than i do
when i know exactly how your eye fades and your nose scrunch when you smile

it angers me when you are wasting your time with the one that only look at your flaws
because i am here accepting your flaw as something that make you beautiful

it put me to torment seeing the shine in your eyes vanished
as people betrayed you and throw their hatred toward you

it just put me through pain when i know you are better off without me
because you deserve someone much better than the ****** up me

so as i watch from a distance i hoped for your happiness
as you would find someone who can wash all your pain away
Jae Jun 2020
I used to have a classmate
Who was disappointed in me one day
Because I wrote about how the flag
The pride of our nation
Reminded me of hate
But she would not read what I had to say

She thought the same as a lot of people
Who do not look like me
The look at the flag and see proud history
But we see our blood running in streams
We see stars that we cannot reach
Because for far too long
For reasons unbeknownst to me
We are treated like the enemy

We go for a run
We read in our cars
We ask you for help

Then we're falsely accused
And beaten bruised
You put your knees in our necks
And bullets in our backs
You dare to call this the land of the free and justice for all
When we could not be farther from that

And yet you blame us

We are lazy
We play victim
We play the race card
But you make a profit when we are behind bars

Do you really believe we have ourselves to blame
When for centuries you've treated us like animals impossible to tame
It's hard to get an education in a nation that does not care
Where we are bullied because of skin
And thrown away because of our hair
We cannot go shopping in peace
Whether for magazines or for our next meal
You watch us, follow us, or keep is from entering
Because you're afraid that we'll steal

But you've stolen our freedom and hate our success
In a nation under God that's supposedly blessed
Our triumph angers you
Heat rushes to your cheeks
You cannot deny this
'Cause we remember Black Wall Street

Tell me why are you so indifferent
Why are you so blind
Why can't you see past your privilege and pride
Why do you care more about keeping us in chains
Than when we die
Than when we are killed right in front of your eyes

We can't breathe

But you refuse to hear me
You don't want our voices to be heard
But you will fight with your life just to say the n word

We can't breathe

For hundreds of years
In hundreds of ways
You've kept us slaves
You put our liberty in graves
Freedom that was never truly alive in the first place
But we will let no man pull us low enough to hate

Instead we will fight
We will write
We will sing
We will preach
We will rise

You set fire to our structures
But we will burn across the sky
We will march hand in hand
Until you understand

That despite different complexions, hair textures, and body shapes
That the same blood runs through all of our veins
That there is only one human race

We will have liberty
We will have justice
And we will have peace
For the first time in centuries

We will be able to breathe
s May 2014
she emerges from the misty clouds
like a ghost from your past
watching your skin
reflect her light
watching your soul
as it angers and loves
watching your mind
learn from its mistakes
watching your hands
leave their mark on this earth
CommonStory Dec 2014
I have violent thoughts

I hate and hold grudges on you all
For not acknowledging me

And talking to me

Like my talk is cheap

But I can't let you all take control of me

I can only push myself to the brink

I can only break myself under pressure

You are just my psychological limitation

You are my negative motivation

But not why I positively persevere

I will not let you occupy a vacancy in my mind without paying an outrageous lease

I don't want to snap

Because control is the only thing i have this far

And if I do

I will give whoever is there everything

Every sarcastic remark thrown at me

Every unfair criticism

Every smug remark

Everything I didn't want to hear

And everything they didn't deserve

Beat me ****** with sticks and stones

Break every bone

Leave me conscious enough to tell me it's my fault

Then slander what I have left as a human being

What's a word without power

What's an idea without a motive

Watch the steps you tread

The steep path can lead you to what he or she said

While the truth discriminates

And the reality that we all search for doesn't exist

Freedom and unity can't be forced onto the same plane

Those with the power to send their malicious intent

You sully my docile side

So when tears form my rage and release my wrath on a stubborn mule of a man

By nature

I didn't really want to do it

Silently sobbing in the corner shackle as I have given the confession to the act I committed

Emotional distraught

Being taught

To never point the finger

Logically perplexed


These acts being committed

It angers me

So blame me
© copyright Matthew Marvier Donald
Rangzeb Hussain Oct 2011
What have I done, my master, that angers you so?

I crept into this world on an icy cold dark night,
But once you showed me warmth and light,
My father I did not see,
Father you did for a time become to me,
I still treasure those spring days happily,
It was an age when the fresh earth laughed madly
(And you men smiled with it).

Once days of light darkened
Murky red and it was my blood I saw hardened
On your hands, my father,
My master, my friend, are
You mine enemy?

In your greatest hour I did stand by you,
Mine fatal hour was at hand and I cried out for the truth,
In my beggar’s voice I pleaded to you
To guard, today, my children and their generations too
As I once did yours.

I never sold or bargained my love
But you traded yours for scrap paper doves,
My eyes always glistened,
These days I weep salt tears and ask you to listen,
My idiot smile always seemed foolish but now I wear
Pagliacci’s lipstick.

While you desecrate my humble gravestone
I never once did the same in spite, hate or even while digging for a bone,
I shall always play the fool
Who is used as a tool
And nothing more by you.

Where are you now? Were not you and I fashioned out from blood
Of the same mud,
By the one God?
I never changed my tune which was composed by a bard
But I hear you dance to a different hymn,
They say Satan was Keeper of the Music Inn
Before he was sent down
To a place where he found a sound
That forever changed his jig.

I did have two eyes,
You used your blind eyes for lies,
My nose I gave up for your nightly protection
While you always smelt for election,
You have two deaf ears,
Mine always heard the sound of fears,
You once did have a heart, mine bled,
I hang my head and go to my earthen bed,
Compassion is a word that spells dread
For Humankind.

The rags that you men worship daily
Drove you to haunt me gaily,
If careful you are not
Those same rags will one day sink their needle teeth into your soft rot,
The needle that put me to into Death’s sleep
Will bury into you deep indeed
And bite softly it will, like lice,
Will you howl like I did *(out of pain, not cowardice),

Or are you going to offer the other cheek?

I was crucified for your guilt
Which upon my shoulders you day by day built,
Mine life was extinguished under the burning weight,
Even in rigid death you hound me mate
And thousands like me are detained,
But loyal we will remain,
In the fiery jaws of hellish Death
I never spat out my love but I bet
You never wept,
My master who once did return my love.

*What have I done, my master, that angers you so?
The tabloid press in Great Britain orchestrated a rabid campaign to outlaw the American Bulldog breed after a handful of reports filtered in about how some of these dogs had attacked people. The sensationalist reports were so sustained, on a systematic daily basis, that the government eventually capitulated and passed a law which not only forbade people from importing the breed but also for all American Bulldogs to be detained and destroyed. Instead of reprimanding irresponsible owners who may have abused and conditioned their dogs to be aggressive, the government issued a blanket ban on the entire breed. Thus, within weeks, an entire breed of dog was wiped clean from the shores of Great Britain. Police raided homes and snatched away family pets and exterminated them with lethal injection. For the crimes of a few the entire breed paid the penalty with their lives.
Ivy Haegan Apr 2018
I want to be mad
I want to be mad but I can’t be mad because it’s not your fault that your life is moving faster than mine
I want to be mad but I can’t because every time I almost get mad and I almost yell and I almost throw something
I’m sad
I’m sad and then it’s hard to move and it’s too hard to yell and it’s hard to do anything but cry
I’m sad because you’re beautiful and I love you and you love me but soon you won’t be mine to love anymore
And that hurts more than it angers me
I still feel like if I love you hard enough then you won’t leave
Even though it’s not true
And when I remember that you’re leaving anyways I try so **** hard to feel angry so that I don’t have to feel sad
I’m still sad
I’m still so sad
So sad that it’s hard to eat
So sad that if I laugh it makes me cry
So sad that it gets hard to breathe
And if only my ******* stove worked I could make some tea with honey and calm down
And if only I could close out my computer tabs so I wouldn’t have to look at the  birthday presents I can’t get you
And if only you weren’t leaving me I wouldn’t have to wish I was angry just so I don’t have to be so, so sad
Taru M Dec 2012
This gun to the temple of my dome
I am faced with a single question
Should I shoot?
Or let fly the words just uttered?

The mouth of the devil’s minion lies open
     and picking
     and nagging
          at a lost cause - a deaf cause
And Yet
     it feels
          it angers
               it rages
no longer containable
     it erupts
no clip for a gun
only bullets of air
air of truth
                                                           ­                  and so
                                                              ­             I choose
                                                          ­        and before I think
a crescendo of cacophony


A tear falls. The truth escapes. A jaw drops.
she did it to herself
all those years of nonstop badgering
she did it to herself
all those years of hypocrisy and disrespect
she did it to herself
blood flows from her eyes for my pleasure
a stream of emotion dammed by emptiness

she did it to herself
Kicking it old skool taking it back to '07. The biggest fight I ever had with my mom.
Amanda May 2019
I will always
Look for sun after rain
As it flashes through the prism vein
Of the coloured bow

I will always
Look for trust amongst a betray
For conscience will always have its way
And regret will show

I will always
Look for angers smiling frown
As turns a shout upside down
Allowing laughter to exhale

I will always
Let love control hearts hate
Over a constant populace of hate lovers
Hoping love will prevail
Alissa Rogers Mar 2012
A block in my heart angers my hand.
I cannot write, I cannot write!
I fear i'll find no respite tonight.
All of my letters melt into sand.
They are a black hole: everything and nothing.
We are but star dust the Sun sheds off his skin.
We struggle through our lives fighting our original sin.
I cannot write, I cannot write.
I know i'll find no respite tonight.
My words are everything and nothing.
ne·pen·the  (n-pnth)
1. A drug mentioned in the Odyssey as a remedy for grief.
2. Something that induces forgetfulness of sorrow or eases pain.
mark john junor Dec 2013
the road traveled is
often enough written in the eyes
just as the pattern of a leaf may tell the tree
but it will not lay bare to you
what dwells at its root
what you see in another persons eye
is only a reflection
and only you know what lay at the root of that

her fashionable neatness
suffers at the hand of hurried time
but she will not bend in her method
i cannot see into her thoughts
blinded by my own instincts to follow
to meet my woman's desire
just wanting my lover to be happy

we wrestle the sheets in the hot night
with the other woman joining us again
the three of us exploring eachother in hungry wet embrace
seeking the moments when the hot
rush of pleasure leaves you soaked with passions sweat
and waiting for the begin again of
the sweet play of caress and suckle

it is this third woman
whos dark eye i draw you to
for she is well known to me
we have shared a bed before
she is not a bad person
but i know what dwells
at the root of that
a bedroom of appeasing the cravings
of a woman's hidden angers
Nicole Shaw Nov 2014
Obsessiveness, it angers me;
Why does someone have to pick that one person that they won't leave alone that they apparently see no flaws in ? I hate it.
He bothers every inch of me:
If he walks past me I get a creeping shiver:
He stairs at me like I am diner;
I tried to be friends but he just doesn't understand;
He annoys me when he follows me around;
Migraines, he has made them consume me;
When he is around my stress level goes from a field of flowers to buried seven feet under! I want to scream and shout and let my stress seep out but all I can do now is sit and pout.

— The End —