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"angrier" poems
Are you ******* crazy, he says and I want to nod, want to grin want to peel back my lips and gnash my teeth like a wild thing, want to jump on the table and scream. I want to caterwaul, want to close my eyes and keep them shut I want to dig my nails into flesh and hear the tear. No, my voice is quiet like a whisper, hesitant and unsure. I want that to be the wrong answer but I don’t... I want him to get angrier still but I don’t... I don’t want him red-eyed, blood thirsty, coming down upon me but I do. And when he grips my chin with slender fingers, I want to sigh, want to moan like a ***** in heat. Like a ***** on the side of the road, full with *** sore with lust and clit-swollen. When his hand slaps my bare bare skin, stinging pink brightly under the force of my degradation. My sweet humiliation, leaving soft thick welts on my delicate limbs, writhing helplessly in discomfort, tears smudging old makeup and I am weak, I am ugly, I am hurting and I am wrong, impaired and imperfect, and perhaps I am ******* crazy.
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Tenderness
Anybody else got that one person or song You could go without it all day long You could be angrier than a dog with rabies Or someone who got robbed daily Why is it that when that person or song Hppens to be around or on that all of a days Aonizing moments seem to just slip on by To another place or another time in rhyme It's like all those bad vibes fall apart when Something like that touches the heart This is an odd little occurrence but im sure it's a normal occurrence Helping me decompress and acquiesce too I guess that mood changer is all we need Sometimes (hint, pay attention to the capital letters)
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
Mood Changer
There's nothing left in you For me to love Not because You're rotted But because I've Managed to love Every part of you From your split ends To your hairy toes Your scabby elbows And scarred knees From falling over and over Your ice blue eyes That have a talent of hiding all your lies I even love the way Your voice gets When you shout And you're angrier Than I've ever seen Because I've yet to find a part of you That I do not love
0
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Sappy
the people vs. my every waking moment                          me, for every heart I've stolen                          the lost light given to homework                          an idea embedded that our souls are                          search machine engines                          are we waking, are you my dreams the people vs. contemporary art of all periods                          angrier and more painful hearts                          suicide as a solution                          recycling factitious pollution                          no one says a thing about ideas repurposed the people vs. intelligence                          truth                          passion                          anything other than money as a practice
0
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC
the people vs.
I think it's sad where the poetry community has been going. It seems as though deep, dark poetry isn't considered "good" anymore. I wrote a "poem" called #Hashtag as an example of how braindead some people are becoming. As I write this, it has 44 views while the other 25 poems i've written in the past 2 weeks have max 23-ish views. I think this is completely ridiculous because poetry for me was once a place to escape the modern day stupidity and revel in the intelligence of literature. Now all I see are poems about computers and "some chick left me so I banged my side-chick". I cannot even begin to describe how much it bothers me that my poem "#Hashtag" has more views than my poem "From the Benevolent Ashes, We Rise!". It's absolutely appauling. I don't even know how to end this rant so it's going to seem abrupt but I can't continue right now or else I'll end up even angrier at poetry.
0
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Please read this... -_-
I'm trying to find solace in anything. Anything. But I realize I'm angrier than before. I stand in the shower for 30 minutes and just seethe in anger. Anger at God. Anger at my mom. Anger at my dad. Anger at my sister. Anger at the guy who hit my brother. Anger at my boyfriend. Anger at me. Anger at my brother. Sometimes I wish I could just scream in there, But I know my parents would probably freak out. Maybe even bust the door open and see me in all my glory. That'd be embarrassing. I feel like I hate everyone. But I also can't be mean to anyone. I feel bad when I get mad at my boyfriend. But **** sometimes he makes me wanna beat the **** out of him. And then sometimes I just wanna pounce on him. All these emotions got me ****** up. I'm over here reminiscing old memories of my brother hoping for some sort of solace. But I end up in tears just wishing the good Lord would just take me. And I know its selfish but in this kind of moment, you only think of the pain now. I can't see my future anymore. The man I love doubt's me all the time and he has good reason to. I don't know where I'm heading. And it breaks my heart that he does. But oh well. I couldn't even convince my own brother to stay in the end either. So much for solace.
0
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
solace
I've never had luck with blondes. Well, I've had lots of luck falling ever so deeply in love with them. With their eyes of bright hues in blue, green, and greys. Going head over heels for their charming smiles that make your eyes linger a little longer that what's permitted. Dying to feel their godlike comforting powerful touch. That was easy. Horribly easy. But what surprised me, kicked the backs of my knees and made me crumble to the pavement were that those handsome heavenly faced blondes, have no soul. And I am sure of it, because every single ******* time, they leave me... Alone in the dark, confused, disoriented, with not a single word. Which leaves my thoughts to echo in the emptiness, rummage around inside my skull, looking in the hollow cabinets searching for clues and slowly growing frustrated and angry, angrier, angriest. But not at the blonde boys. At myself. As of what I did wrong? Why did they go? How could I let this happen again? And every time, I can never find the reason. Those blonde boys just appear in the rays of the summertime with their golden locks of hair and leave with their icy dark souls in the cold breeze of the fall. And I know, they will be back next year. With the sun, and happiness and my stupidity. Until then though I'm stuck with the abusive markings and stabbing aches.
0
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 9:41 PM UTC
Blonde Boys
I got a knock on my door about a week after the break up. "Can I come in?" Honestly, I didn't know if she could. "Where is she?" "Her grandparents" she said, stepping inside. It turns out ex-girlfriends are not like vampires, They may, in fact, walk in uninvited. "What have you been up to?" I ask, As I close the door behind her. "Work. You?" "I had *** with a girl in Kennebunk" "Oh, let me guess, nerdy with an irish face?" She knew my type. "No actually, Egyptian... I know, weird" We walk up to the bedroom. I try to hold her hand, But she pulls away. "I miss you." "I miss you too," she says, "but it will make things harder, You know that." "Did you **** him yet?" She doesn't look at me. "So yes. When? How long did it take?" "Nick, you don't need to know" "I need to know, more than anything. When?" "That night." "The night I called you?" She's quiet. We decide that since we aren't together anymore, It'd be a good idea to confess All of the things we lied about over the years So it'd be easier to hate each other. We circle around the bed taking turns. Getting angrier, and angrier. "As soon as I walked in their door His girlfriend stripped all my clothes off. She didn't even let me say hello." "Well you know that love song I wrote for you? It was actually for my ex girlfriend." "He said I was great at riding him, And when we were done, We smoked a bowl and cuddled." "You cuddled!?" "Yes. Cuddled." "I want, just. To **** you." "Then do it." I fade awake with her naked body draped over me Like the world's most comfortable blanket. This is the last time I get to feel this happy. Like a dream. Safe. Comfortable. Warm. As I open my eyes, I see the empty room. Her things are already gone. She is a foreign object in my bed. Her once delicate touch turns Hot coal and burns me. I jump back and bury My head in my hands. The room starts spinning. I don't love her, I'm not happy, We aren't happy. I hate her. I hate this room. I hate myself. I want everything to just go! "Put your clothes on and just go!" She is awake now. She reaches for my phone. "What are you doing?" "Do you know my number?" "I don't have it memorized." "Good." She hands me back my phone. "If I need you, I'll call you." She leaves. Forever this time. It turns out I was wrong. Ex-girlfriends are exactly, Like vampires.
0
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
Rough *** Goodbyes
I got a knock on my door about a week after the break up. "Can I come in?" Honestly, I didn't know if she could. "Where is she?" "Her grandparents" she said, stepping inside. It turns out ex-girlfriends are not like vampires, They may, in fact, walk in uninvited. "What have you been up to?" I ask, As I close the door behind her. "Work. You?" "I had *** with a girl in Kennebunk" "Oh, let me guess, nerdy with an irish face?" She knew my type. "No actually, Egyptian... I know, weird" We walk up to the bedroom. I try to hold her hand, But she pulls away. "I miss you." "I miss you too," she says, "but it will make things harder, You know that." "Did you **** him yet?" She doesn't look at me. "So yes. When? How long did it take?" "Nick, you don't need to know" "I need to know, more than anything. When?" "That night." "The night I called you?" She's quiet. We decide that since we aren't together anymore, It'd be a good idea to confess All of the things we lied about over the years So it'd be easier to hate each other. We circle around the bed taking turns. Getting angrier, and angrier. "As soon as I walked in their door His girlfriend stripped all my clothes off. She didn't even let me say hello." "Well you know that love song I wrote for you? It was actually for my ex girlfriend." "He said I was great at riding him, And when we were done, We smoked a bowl and cuddled." "You cuddled!?" "Yes. Cuddled." "I want, just. To **** you." "Then do it." I fade awake with her naked body draped over me Like the world's most comfortable blanket. This is the last time I get to feel this happy. Like a dream. Safe. Comfortable. Warm. As I open my eyes, I see the empty room. Her things are already gone. She is a foreign object in my bed. Her once delicate touch turns Hot coal and burns me. I jump back and bury My head in my hands. The room starts spinning. I don't love her, I'm not happy, We aren't happy. I hate her. I hate this room. I hate myself. I want everything to just go! "Put your clothes on and just go!" She is awake now. She reaches for my phone. "What are you doing?" "Do you know my number?" "I don't have it memorized." "Good." She hands me back my phone. "If I need you, I'll call you." She leaves. Forever this time. It turns out I was wrong. Ex-girlfriends are exactly, Like vampires.
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81
Tearing up I-75 like bats outta Hell The radio jacked up to MAX to be heard to the roaring of the wind, Seeing as the top is off of the jeep Zeppelin and The Who Van Fleet and The White Stipes Generations of rock Shared by the elder and the young Different problems faced Yet shared circumstances The pace is rapidly set Like invaders they ride Or gunslinger of the old west Buying into the legends of their own immortality Like a final ride before closing that part of the past for good Even some of that Seattle sound trickles in A much younger and angrier Pearl Jam Sometimes even the garage rock get a turn in the spotlight Their pace exponentionally increases like a runaway train It's end destined to be in a glorious and terrible wreck The road trip is on These rockers of all ages are on the warpath to a good time God help us all
0
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Spring Roadtrip
Five years old and they    could not hear me in the backyard --    I called out, the gate was locked and   the screen door, mesh frayed at the handle,   was locked too -- I could see it --   and they still couldn't hear me and I      was afraid and the mesh      was frayed and my little finger          just barely fit through and then              aunt Lucy came and made sure                  that I was punished. (The reward for my fear was the most frightening and humiliating experience of my childhood)                    I hid. "Get out here!" my father yelled and his voice made me flinch and trembling I unhid.        my uncle and aunt watched as my father spanked me harder and angrier than ever before,        my uncle and aunt watched the shock of every blow reverberating through my tiny body                                     until        my uncle and aunt watched everything let go and I ****** myself on the floor in front of them weeping and violated I do not remember what was said after they left the room and I was alone with my shame while the sun fell the walls faded blue the ride home was silent -- -- all over some torn mesh       and doors they should not have locked.
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
The Greatest Humiliation of my Childhood
Anger…Angrier for causes unknown Stuffed and stifled; veins and bones being blown Feel like…Felt being hit from behind Dead and Dying; moving body containing serene mind Made to and making do with present out of unclear past Remind…Reminder; forget to remember Crashing through the other side; catastrophic blast Happy…Happier; down to tissues, your body's dismembered Knowing…Known; causes getting familiar Angrier…Anger; for betrayals similar Started and starting to realize you are dying Lied…Lying; either way you can't escape with defying Making…Make your day colorful with blood in pitcher Your head tearing open as the lid Dying…Dead; devouring the poison seed Disconnect…your lungs bleed Disconnect…with shredded limbs joined together you plead Disconnect…the last arterial blood drops Disconnect…this is where your life stops Disconnect…
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May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:35 AM UTC
Biased Coin of Hatred
White collared men in pinstripe suits sit casually across from one another, completely indifferent. They discuss ways to obtain power and how to silence the opposition. The opposition being women. Power being the rights to our own bodies. These are the men who make laws against abortion to disguise their ulterior motives. Trump’s America they call it. Where belittling women is somehow a “trend”, Where this type of thing has become “okay”. Where the women’s rights movement has been threatened time and time again. All of this, In efforts to silence our war cries. But here’s the thing about us that even history seems to have forgotten. We Are Women. Our mothers have been crafting our battle armour since before we were born. Gave it to us the day we were first interrupted in the middle of a sentence. They told us to be brave, to be bold, to be unapologetic. To speak our truth and remain strong even when we feel utterly defeated. You see, We don’t really do submissive. Won’t sit back and let you do as you please. Rather, we’ll continue to challenge your authority. Make you wish you kept your laws off our bodies in the first place. To those who continue to undermine our capability, I say to you this. This body, is my own. This body, is power. In fact, I don’t blame you for being afraid. Because you and I both know that this body is capable of things so extraordinary that only God Himself can envision them. You can try to silence us, To take away our voice. But we will only grow stronger, Grow louder. Angrier. You will hear us And you will listen. My body, My rules.
0
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
My Body, My Rules
White collared men in pinstripe suits sit casually across from one another, completely indifferent. They discuss ways to obtain power and how to silence the opposition. The opposition being women. Power being the rights to our own bodies. These are the men who make laws against abortion to disguise their ulterior motives. Trump’s America they call it. Where belittling women is somehow a “trend”, Where this type of thing has become “okay”. Where the women’s rights movement has been threatened time and time again. All of this, In efforts to silence our war cries. But here’s the thing about us that even history seems to have forgotten. We Are Women. Our mothers have been crafting our battle armour since before we were born. Gave it to us the day we were first interrupted in the middle of a sentence. They told us to be brave, to be bold, to be unapologetic. To speak our truth and remain strong even when we feel utterly defeated. You see, We don’t really do submissive. Won’t sit back and let you do as you please. Rather, we’ll continue to challenge your authority. Make you wish you kept your laws off our bodies in the first place. To those who continue to undermine our capability, I say to you this. This body, is my own. This body, is power. In fact, I don’t blame you for being afraid. Because you and I both know that this body is capable of things so extraordinary that only God Himself can envision them. You can try to silence us, To take away our voice. But we will only grow stronger, Grow louder. Angrier. You will hear us And you will listen. My body, My rules.
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40
degenerate beauty queen treasure from the dredge of the Earth strung up like Christmas lights white crystal **** aflame hydrangeas cower from her gaze pink ribbons stained with age droop lonesome in soft noir locks pulled loose from men along the way she'll be lucky if she doesn't die young photos on the television gunned down in some gang's maze or somewhere in the gutters she calls home expensive death bought by scratch she'll be lucky to make it to twenty three cigarettes and xanax soothe her to sleep dancing on a silver pole took her hazily high school diploma left her trailer park bound never felt love 'less it came from a bottle kissed only by knuckles since she began running from ambitions to become no one just someone's baby mama left shattered she smiles to the world, for anyone who can see inside she's full of rage, i see the tear stains mascara runs black from her bambi eyes complacent at best, naïve at worst ****** never grew up, she just grew angrier i pray for you and the person you've become ring me when you find your head ring me when you find your way home there's nothing from you that i wanna take no matter how insignificant or terrifying i love you forever and always
0
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 3:22 AM UTC
king fentanyl
I feel it is weird when the guy you like sits right next to you in class Even when he knows you like him And he rejected you I feel it is weird when you love art with your entire heart and soul But you can't even draw stick people With straight lines I feel it is weird when you miss someone Who has hurt you more Than anyone before I think it is weird when someone complains about everything But refuses to do anything To change their situation I think it is weird when people get depressed in movies They always read more books I watch movies I think it is weird that I can look in the mirror in the morning But I can not keep doing that As the day goes on I think it is weird that some people are so nice Even after you discover their lies Still trying to cover them up I think it is weird that the hungrier people get The angrier they get But I get happy I think it is weird Because it is weird. Weird.
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Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
Weird
One white page. One black dot. One white page with one black dot. That is all. You see it. Good. Now wiggle that dot. Just a tad. Watch it shake. A single vibrating cell. A fly in the wind. Trembling up. And down. And down and up and right and left. It's a ***** smudge ruining your clean page. So rub it out . With your pencil thin rubber. But it dodges like a boxer's head. A darting fish. You want to get rid of it. You want a clean white page. Plant your rubber down. A dramatic staff in the ground cracks the white soil. But it circles you. That fly, that fish, that blurred boxer. That singular cell. It circles your staff. Your statement. Magnetically. A metal ball. Orbiting your invisible eraser. To erase the invisible dot. But it is there. Circling faster. Wider. Angrier. Leaving a trail behind. Too fast for the eye. The sultry smoke of speed. The slipstream of a cannonball. The page is warped. Earthquake epicentre on the A4. Shook by the fault lines. Jutting canyons drop down. Ledges crumble and crash. Sugared pie crust hit with a hammer. Everything collapses. Invisible things are also under the spell spell of gravity. Hit on the head by invisible apples. But it's not invisible. It's not a cell. A fly or smudge. An agile boxing fish head. A cannonballing canyon pie. It's not even a white page. Nevermind the black dot. It's nothing. Not a thing. Not invisible, but  the kind of nothing that can't be seen. Yet there it is.
0
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
Picture this.
I sit in a flimsy plastic chair that squeaks at the slightest movement, Ana stands because it burns more calories and says I should do the same My arms are folded over my chest, slouching and brooding The bracelet Ana bought me sounds like shackles when I move The wedding band on my finger weights more than I do "Why are you here today?" Our therapist asks "She's been cheating on me with that **** Mia!" Ana yells "I already told you it didn't mean anything. We were broken up then." My explanation makes her angrier though and she snaps, "You just can't handle commitment!" I've heard her use this voice multiple times and a list of all the insult circumnavigates my brain *Stupid Ugly Worthless Never good enough Unlovable Pathetic Fat Fat FAT* "You call this uncommitted?" I point to my stomach which growls on cue Our therapist asks how long we've been together I say over 2 years Ana says we've been together my whole life I tell him she's abusive "It doesn't look like she's done that much damage" He notes When the hours up Ana walks to the door I tell her I just need a minute I turn to our therapist who's already packing up "Please help me. I need to get our of this relationship now!" He ***** his head up as if it's the simplest answer in the world, "Then why don't you just eat?"
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Couples Therapy With Ana
North cornered near the glass ain't gonna' last Cause the money is running out It's running out fast Nickel and dimed' burning money burning pride With the liquor stores all closing and mother mary praying whispering "Sarah, sarah, sarah..." No names in these streets empty touched' defeat The meat is getting angrier surlier burlier The heat is getting heavier breathier and touchier Blankets burn in the Connecticut sun mother mouths something But I can't make it out With these posters on these white walls falling for their own droll Committed to the picnic that is not life at all Putrid in these notes that sail through the air never fail With the heart that once was held By a women that I thought I'd take the time to know But then the winds came with the side ways rain All that pain that I couldn't bare or understand to stay There was the window washing maniacs pinching pennies Letting go of their soul for another side dish and entree of dough Ploughing through their TV screens which falls through their skin like Love used to do but in the blue hue there was nothing They could bear to do Bear man breaks open the skin flecked electro heart machine Shocking every last one of us past the point of divinity Already through the heart and mind and limb of man Into the skin and the blood and the beating eye lids Of a brother I never had, that man named CID Jesus named me no name so I wander wherever my feet may carry Never had no religion only long lesions through the seasons Cut wound bleed break breakfast dinner bird There was a glint in the sun The way she gripped and held Her sword Graining through pages of past history *********** Seeing visions of kaleidoscope faker ***** with their blisters Gripping their panoramic sisters Beauty in the eye of the hair that twists In the mid-west chilling winds of the whisp Forests burning boringly gripping the last hope of Mother murdering herself just to stay alive In a stride of elegance tides of benevolence Roaring rewind curb side b-lines And a mix-tape that spins and spins and spins But plays nothing No nothing At all
0
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 8:25 PM UTC
Connecticut
North cornered near the glass ain't gonna' last Cause the money is running out It's running out fast Nickel and dimed' burning money burning pride With the liquor stores all closing and mother mary praying whispering "Sarah, sarah, sarah..." No names in these streets empty touched' defeat The meat is getting angrier surlier burlier The heat is getting heavier breathier and touchier Blankets burn in the Connecticut sun mother mouths something But I can't make it out With these posters on these white walls falling for their own droll Committed to the picnic that is not life at all Putrid in these notes that sail through the air never fail With the heart that once was held By a women that I thought I'd take the time to know But then the winds came with the side ways rain All that pain that I couldn't bare or understand to stay There was the window washing maniacs pinching pennies Letting go of their soul for another side dish and entree of dough Ploughing through their TV screens which falls through their skin like Love used to do but in the blue hue there was nothing They could bear to do Bear man breaks open the skin flecked electro heart machine Shocking every last one of us past the point of divinity Already through the heart and mind and limb of man Into the skin and the blood and the beating eye lids Of a brother I never had, that man named CID Jesus named me no name so I wander wherever my feet may carry Never had no religion only long lesions through the seasons Cut wound bleed break breakfast dinner bird There was a glint in the sun The way she gripped and held Her sword Graining through pages of past history *********** Seeing visions of kaleidoscope faker ***** with their blisters Gripping their panoramic sisters Beauty in the eye of the hair that twists In the mid-west chilling winds of the whisp Forests burning boringly gripping the last hope of Mother murdering herself just to stay alive In a stride of elegance tides of benevolence Roaring rewind curb side b-lines And a mix-tape that spins and spins and spins But plays nothing No nothing At all
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46
There is a storm A storm inside me that never stops Lightening in my eyes Thunder inside my heart And darkness filling my head But something is wrong So very wrong I am weak They ignore me Take me as a joke Storms inside me get angrier Breaking the docks Flooding lands Lightning gets stronger Thunder gets louder only to be muffled by silence I am paralyzed I am weak
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
A storm
Suicidal like a black widows father And angrier than the midnight tide I told you twice but why'd I even bother Like Jim Carey you lie I love you because I know I can help you  You hate me because I can't Now I'm suicidal like a black widows father  Trapped in a large apes hand I fight and I squirm and I spin Yet the grip is just too tight  Suicide seems easier now I just give up the fight
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 2:47 AM UTC
Black Widows Father
He had a gold tooth Right in front I thought; A hideous feature Worse though Was his aroma - Certain death & **** & Liquor. He screeched some babble at me I didn't understand And he got angrier. 'What does this *** Want from me?' Unlocked my car I got in Slammed the door Lock. His index finger Pointing at me as I drove away
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Gold Tooth
You've been offline for 16 minutes I could have said it, but I didn't I had it written, but I didn't send it I'm kind of a coward, I'll admit it. I couldn't fit it in a space that I thought you would read I had a tendency to ramble when you listened or pretended, and in the poems that you've never seen it's just as bad, I go careening through a bending path of bramble tryna scramble to the point but I lost you neck deep in the prose that arose around a metaphor packed to the brim with condescending tid bits where I use your words against you but a heavy weight that sits over it all, when I lost the only friend I can talk to so let me spend the next half hour showering over you another lesson in epistemology honestly I don't know how you could be so dim to miss what I've put in to this Do you not see how wrong you are Does it bother you To have every miss step pounced on and deconstructed I was talking down just to knock it through your thick head but I guess I ****** it I'll just have to say it angrier now Let me spend the next two months convincing you whatever you had seen in me was through a lens I didn't deserve to be seen through All it took was losing you to see I'm exactly where I should have ended up I know that no apology will unwind the web I spun. the web I sit on now to watch what I've undone with my own hands. Hands that even now subside in fear of what I'd hear then in your voice when you reply to let it die So I'll let it die I'm sorry
0
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
16 Minutes
Dunes on my left, and the ocean on my right, I walked in the middle, on the hot sand. My feet were burning, but I didn't really notice, I was on a mission, to keep walking along this shoreline, till I came up with a plan, to resolve this problem. Only hours before, I was sitting on a chair, staring at a wall, sorting out my life, and where I stand, and if I could fix all the problems around me. The more thinking I did, the angrier I got, I was frustrated, I couldn't weigh all the options, by just sitting here. I left the chair, and the blank wall, and walked along the shoreline. I said before, that I was on a mission, to keep walking, until I came up with a plan, to resolve a problem. The one big problem, everything else, is silly in comparison. But there seems to be no solutions, and I think i'll be walking, forever.
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Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
Shoreline
She walked alone In the cold dark world A young child Who knew things By what her parents taught her She was sheltered so far in her life She didn't know what to expect So she played With other much older than her They wanted her innocence So when all was said and done She sat there alone Crying No one consoled her No one seemed to care She continued in life Becoming stronger Mentally and physically Her thoughts became darker Angrier, Hateful of those around her She thought the nightmare was over Until things spiraled out of control... Hanging out with so called friends Costing this young woman something valuable Reality struck hard that night The worse thing about it The cycle repeated She knew nobody would believe her Nobody seemed to want to protect her Wanting to die so much Became her purpose Being alone Was her sanctuary Her body became a vessel Harboring everything and anything Cold and Dark Why? Why was she made to suffer? Why didn't anybody try to stop her She kept shoving pills down her throat Or cutting her skin To relieve her inner most pain Her parents could not handle Anything about her anymore They had lost their baby girl She rebelled against them For many years It was always a civil war. She became a mother 3 times over And each time she vowed Her offspring would not walk the same path Or feel the same as she did when she was young She became very protective of them Her husband would try to understand Only to realize his wife is a very complex person. Though her closest friend understood Her actions Thoughts Feelings He decided to help her Just to listen when she needed an ear Or a shoulder to cry on Or lean on When times are tough Through his actions A bond was forged So this woman became the woman she is today Through pain suffering Not by choice But through the situations That made up her life Judge all you want Call her weak Call her pathetic And she will show you Weakness But she will tell you I am a fighter Strength comes from within And wisdom Comes from the lessons we learn From mistakes made In our everyday lives You see this fighter As you may have guessed Is the real me.
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Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:27 AM UTC
Real Me
She walked alone In the cold dark world A young child Who knew things By what her parents taught her She was sheltered so far in her life She didn't know what to expect So she played With other much older than her They wanted her innocence So when all was said and done She sat there alone Crying No one consoled her No one seemed to care She continued in life Becoming stronger Mentally and physically Her thoughts became darker Angrier, Hateful of those around her She thought the nightmare was over Until things spiraled out of control... Hanging out with so called friends Costing this young woman something valuable Reality struck hard that night The worse thing about it The cycle repeated She knew nobody would believe her Nobody seemed to want to protect her Wanting to die so much Became her purpose Being alone Was her sanctuary Her body became a vessel Harboring everything and anything Cold and Dark Why? Why was she made to suffer? Why didn't anybody try to stop her She kept shoving pills down her throat Or cutting her skin To relieve her inner most pain Her parents could not handle Anything about her anymore They had lost their baby girl She rebelled against them For many years It was always a civil war. She became a mother 3 times over And each time she vowed Her offspring would not walk the same path Or feel the same as she did when she was young She became very protective of them Her husband would try to understand Only to realize his wife is a very complex person. Though her closest friend understood Her actions Thoughts Feelings He decided to help her Just to listen when she needed an ear Or a shoulder to cry on Or lean on When times are tough Through his actions A bond was forged So this woman became the woman she is today Through pain suffering Not by choice But through the situations That made up her life Judge all you want Call her weak Call her pathetic And she will show you Weakness But she will tell you I am a fighter Strength comes from within And wisdom Comes from the lessons we learn From mistakes made In our everyday lives You see this fighter As you may have guessed Is the real me.
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88
get angrier now, there's no sense denying it, force fed lies to ostracize little girls from buying... free candy ladies. look over here, James has a pink truck and i swear he's not queer. ha. i got bubble gum, i know you want some, yummy yummy in the tummy, stop right there I'll force it down choke. digest. you didn't chew, see how it gets when you don't listen, Jamison is a confectionery in the kitchen. i can bake you cookies, just get down on both knees...please. see i already asked you nicely, .... you know you don't want me to start shoutin' and get violent....girl. i thought you were my world, how loud do you want me to shout it.. now your lying somewhere where no one can hear you cry i never thought I'd see the day the cake baker took a life... and i tried...so hard, what could i do, everything in the world reminded me of you...eat some cookies. they're a little ****** but they're not bad, maybe mix it in with the batter the next time I'm mad. it didn't have to be this way. you forced me to do it, i am a baker by trade and now I'm covered in your fluids.... god this is gross, ... how am I gonna get these stains outta these clothes start to choke. looking at your ****** body. the... the... the... cadaver is just laying there looking back at me smiling. in my cookie shop I'm panicking...start to wonder how i got pushed this far now all the cookies are burnt and crumbling. gotta put those bodies in the oven. recipes and sweets mean nothing when you don't have love bake this cake at three hundred and fifty degrees... just until the hearts inside get gooey and melt over me. wow.
0
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
Death of a Confectionery
get angrier now, there's no sense denying it, force fed lies to ostracize little girls from buying... free candy ladies. look over here, James has a pink truck and i swear he's not queer. ha. i got bubble gum, i know you want some, yummy yummy in the tummy, stop right there I'll force it down choke. digest. you didn't chew, see how it gets when you don't listen, Jamison is a confectionery in the kitchen. i can bake you cookies, just get down on both knees...please. see i already asked you nicely, .... you know you don't want me to start shoutin' and get violent....girl. i thought you were my world, how loud do you want me to shout it.. now your lying somewhere where no one can hear you cry i never thought I'd see the day the cake baker took a life... and i tried...so hard, what could i do, everything in the world reminded me of you...eat some cookies. they're a little ****** but they're not bad, maybe mix it in with the batter the next time I'm mad. it didn't have to be this way. you forced me to do it, i am a baker by trade and now I'm covered in your fluids.... god this is gross, ... how am I gonna get these stains outta these clothes start to choke. looking at your ****** body. the... the... the... cadaver is just laying there looking back at me smiling. in my cookie shop I'm panicking...start to wonder how i got pushed this far now all the cookies are burnt and crumbling. gotta put those bodies in the oven. recipes and sweets mean nothing when you don't have love bake this cake at three hundred and fifty degrees... just until the hearts inside get gooey and melt over me. wow.
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27
On a filthy street corner in a town on the outskirts of the City we congregated I was the only white & was dressed in my usual tattered finery, ripped jeans & a silk shirt halfway undone I imagined myself a sea rover of the Spainish Main silver 38. tucked in my back waistband I glanced at my 3 comrads, gangsters of the lower class sagging jeans dreadlocks reeking of **** I imagined myself a rover but in truth we were nothing but societys corrosion words were exchanged by my comrad & another rover from down the way louder & angrier until shots rang out & shattered the evenings trance snapping into action fire was returned we held ground until music from the keepers of law sang down the street we scattered I sailed to the train tracks but was pursued I turned & raised my silver 38. but the lawman's bullets took me down hard the last thing I remember was the sky beautiful and orange with the coming of dusk the most beautiful evening I had ever seen
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Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
The Most Beautiful Evening