"applauded" poems
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer, not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”
My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.
The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.
Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you,
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.
This world is not tender.
II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.
split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.
My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.
But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.
III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick
Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever
Lacing my skates
with snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot
to get there
the lake where--
I must get out
I must get OUT!
Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water
at 22 degrees
Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion
Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--
from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights
Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone
at the outer edges, of humanity
A force
centrifugal unto myself
Avoiding
Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....
The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free
catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still
Listen to the frigid chill
and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence
Gliding
Once
Forever--
on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water
The wildness of it all
So infatuated with flight
so full of grace
I forgot Sonja
The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
Streets of the city has recently bathed, with a sudden hour
long mid-Summer's rain.
Romeo trudged down the empty street, towards his lonely
pad located on a terrace.
He had nothing to call his very own, excepting his dear old
Saxophone!
The crowd in the hotel applauded as he played, since he played
with empathy like every other day.
He had met his Juliet briefly once, those were the moments of
a happy trance!
The saxophone has countless musical notes embedded inside, -
For our Romeo to play them out night after night.
Yet so many Romeos like him shall slowly fade away;
And the saxophone shall play their dirge at the end of
the day!
-By Raj Nandy, New Delhi
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
i miss the sadness
i miss the home that never was
the beautiful you never thought you were
where has your pretty gone
who’s wearing your flowered dress now
whose lips are your boyfriends kissing
who could’ve known this was to come
i miss your father’s pride
when you gave him a reason to be sober
now all you are is disappointment
another unlucky occurrence for him to sleep with on the couch
his favourite drinking buddy
i miss church
i miss the red the pastor turned you
the blood running to your holy cheeks
when the congregation applauded
at the fact that you would burn for this
that this secret would be the end of you
the ***** that came up in that bathroom
the god that frowned upon the smell
i miss the way boys used to look at you
when you were something to be desired
when you made others feel more than just confused
when you weren’t an inconvenience to love
you’d rather your innocence be stolen for being beautiful
than for being unwanted
i suppose you pick your poison
i miss the way you looked
every night you cried
the colour mascara makes when it meets blood
like drugstore lipstick
at least there was something gorgeous
something romantic about it
the way the moonlight made your bones stick out
it was something boys could fall in love with
pretty girl
why would you ruin yourself like this
happy girl
how couldn’t you see it for yourself
you were a trophy
your future said husband
it said children
it said the life we want for you
forget your own
you were not happy
but how can you learn to be now
that place that played safe haven
at least, was warm
you are not sure if you miss the sadness
you simply know
this world wants you to
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
Our appearance said we are intelligent
and our attitude applauded more.
Yes,that is extremely unprecise.
Now is the hour for action.
Pick pencil,pen and paper
that we may know the Lionel Messi
that will have the golden boot.
You thought you are the Shakespeare
or the John Dalton of science,
Your hand must tell.
You must be like Trajon.
If you made pillow and bed
your best friends,
do you think you are the one
to get the pin inside a deep blue sea?
Answers won't fall like manna,
unless you seek it earlier.
We all are not unintelligent.
But that alone can't give success.
For success is determination
and determination is success.
The need to be as determined as WWE Taker
is necessary for the being first.
If any question is
hard nut to crack,
we too must be as stubborn as ram.
Among the billions of us,one is require.
Then,the rest will kiss the ground.
Display your talent
for even when you fail
"a bull will be given to you".
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Awkwardly, I made my way to the back
To listen to the lonely performer
Pour his heart out over his guitar
And over the sounds of the crowd,
Too engrossed in their conversations
To enjoy the melodies unfolding.
With every transition they applauded
Politely showing their affection
And as the performer resumed strumming,
So did the chatter of the disinterested.
The lyrics were muttled, drowned out
By the inane banter surrounding the stage
But his fingers continued to dance nimbly
From one string to the next.
And for once I was happy
To not be the center of attention.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
At the Bernie Sanders rally on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in Alabama, a middle-aged woman in the crowd fell to the floor from illness. The entire rally silenced. All 7,000 attendees turned their focus to her welfare. When the medics arrived, the crowd erupted into cheers, a heroes’ welcome. The people then applauded the ill woman once she regained the ability to walk out of the event.
Two weeks prior, at a rally for the authoritarian populist Donald Trump, three white men stomped a black man. He’d worn a t-shirt that read 'Black Lives Matter.'
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
It seems my little curb side tree
is acting like a tease these days,
Like the famed Gypsy Rose Lee,
She is disrobing by degrees.
A gust of wind, some red leaf falls
like feathers from a boa ripped.
Nearly naked head to breast
but fully dressed about both hips.
She seems quite loathe to lose it all
even in these waning days of fall.
Yet as the stripper ends her tease-
bare magnificence applauded,
My little tree will shed her leaves
to be raked,bagged and discarded
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC
Someone asked me why was I so nice?
Why did I greet people with a smile?
Why didn't I reply to a nasty comment with an equally nasty comment?
At first I was taken aback with the line of questions.
I couldn't quite grasp the shock in their voice.
Why was being nice such a novelty?
And then it hit me!
Niceness isn't expected anymore,
Compliments are never given anymore without expecting something in return,
Smiles are nonexistent,
And kindness is a thing of the past.
Why am I nice?
In a world full of hate,
Full of fear,
Full of ugliness,
Why am I nice?
Why do I smile at strangers?
In a world where the mean excel,
Where the bullies rule,
Where being bad is applauded,
Why do I still smile at strangers?
Why do I compliment my peers?
In a place where putting people down is winning,
Where we try to compete for beauty,
Where calling someone beautiful or handsome is considered "flirting",
Why do I compliment my peers everyday?
Why don't I reply with hurtful replies when offended?
In an environment where I'm supposed to curse at a peer for doing the same,
Where I'm supposed to yell when being yelled at,
Where I'm supposed to show how hard I am in a very hard world.
Why don't I reply with hurtful words?
It's very simple,
I smile because you don't know who needs to see a smile,
I compliment because i believe that everyone is beautiful,
I'm not hurtful because I know how it feels to be injured with words,
And most importantly,
I'm nice because this world needs a light,
It needs kind words and gestures.
I don't want to feel hate, remorse, or coldness.
I need to stay soft for those who need a soft place to land.
This is why I'm "nice".
-Espe T.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
---
what is it makes a person
great in this sad world?
where there's such mediocrety
it is a precious pearl
is it that they have money?
that they have accrued
a trillion dollar bank account?
does this make a person good?
perhaps they have a famous face
or well regarded name
maybe they play basketball
and have a winning team
is it artistic talent?
was Vincent van Gogh lauded?
in his painful lifetime
was this man applauded?
perhaps they are as Edison
and have a brilliant mind
but Edison used Tessla
to him he was unkind
this is what I think
makes a man or woman great
that they give life their ALL
that they do not faint
if you sweep the street
and make it clean and bright
If you are an educator
and bring poor children light
if you are a poet
on a humble poetry site
it is forgiving others
not having to be right!
if you are a boxer
and don't give up the fight
this is what is greatness
it's not playing a part
it is *truly living
with your entire HEART.*
soulsurvivor
(C) 8/31/2015
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
The
Decider-in-Chief
made
another
hard
decision,
rebebilitatin
a debilitating
Gaddafi.
The
Agog
Decider
sleekly
peeked
into the
bleak
soul
of the
master
Bedouin.
The
Pious
Decider
peered
pretty
deeply,
so its
hard to tell
what his
arcane
rebelations
revealed.
Some say
The
Jaundiced
Decider,
saw the
desert
bleeding
deliciously
malicious
sweet crude
onto the
scabby
tongues
of
Halliburton
Executives
while
Big Time
Vice
Dickey Boy
******
a petrol
nozzle
dry,
licking
the dripped
drops
that
drizzled
from the
shoot
hole,
so as
not to waste
a precious drop
to satiate
the black
viscous
goo
coursing
through
the ebony
veins of his
chingling
heart.
Others
say
The
Condoning
Decider
sized up
the man
and saw
a brother-in-arms
in the fight
against
The Evil Doers;
yet failed to
see the
revolting
obscenities
his new
comrade-in-arms
inflicted
upon his
own body
politic.
The
Forgetful
Decider,
blessed
with amnesia
forgot
Lockerbie and
applauded
BP's royal
court of
justice
for
pardoning
all perps.
The
Oblivious
Decider's
near
sightedness
failed to
foresee
a brewing
blow-back
amassing
in the
desert
winging
its way
home
on the
blasting
sands of
a blistering
Saharan
sirocco.
The
Pollyannish
Decider
envisioned
grand
spectacles,
only happy
visions of
Beyonce,
JZ, Usher
and the
Def Jam
Buddha
Russell
Simmons
yodeling
filthy
lucre
tunes,
sending
giggling
tweets
while
partying
down
with
Muammar's
posse
of martinets
and
way cool
far out
crazy
execs
drunk
with the
power
that blinds
the eye to
all discernment.
The Decider
decides.
Music Selection:
Lady Ga Ga
Beyonce,
Telephone
Oakland
3/3/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
A volley of gunfire
A stream of offensive epithets.
An amazed girl
And an enraged boy.
After every volley of gunfire,
There was a respawning individual.
Steam could be seen emanating from his ears
Anger radiated off of him.
The girl watched carefully
Taking note of every action.
The sounds of battle could be heard
And the boy kept getting aggressive.
Innovative and anatomically impossible suggestions were made
Names were called and yelled out
And the game continued
“I effing stuck him” was repeatedly yelled.
Finally, after a long rant,
The boy jumped with ecstasy
In the heat of the final battle, he won.
Now he wouldn’t have to fling his controller
The girl applauded him, thankful for the blessed silence.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
Waves of sadness as you wave in my direction. I see you go, I watch you leave. Just as the seasons appear and dispose of me. We take turns walking away, from people we never talked to. Wondering why it hurts the same. Hating that it hurts as all of these people go. Sudden realisation hit us one by one. As we wonder, and walk, and wonder around all the topics we may have avoided. The thoughts we’re apparently devoid of. Introspect, retrospect, dissect ourselves in this critical moment. Nostalgia knocking us over making us think and making us feel, for once. A remarkable feat, it must be applauded. Ovation, overjoy, overwhelm. Over this. Over them. Over it. Time moving so agonisingly slowly, wishing away the years. Needing to escape, yet wanting to eternalise the way they make me feel. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe you should’ve, yet you didn’t. Now you’re all that’s left tell me how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even seem right. Yet it’s a must and a miss you. The question has to be asked: why are you crying now? After all these months, why are you letting it hit now? Stay strong, be strong, be you. Be fearless and young. The golden years fade away into shades of blue and black skies. I wish you all well, and a happy birthday. Get well soon, get there soon. It’s all getting to me too soon. It’s too soon. How are we already here? We were all the way over there yesterday. Faces flash and second pass by with smiles. Frowning back, the question must be asked, why are you so sad?
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 5:51 PM UTC
Little Princess Perfect without a single flaw
Thought that she was perfect in every way she saw
But one day she ran into a crazy, orange man
Who said "I am better and will beat you because I know I can"
Princess perfect laughed and her court well they laughed too
"You cannot win against me and my loyal crew!"
Little Princess Perfect and the man with funny hair
Got into a contest that seemed far from fair.
Princess Perfect with her legions of subjects said
"You're a sexist bigot and have an orange head!"
So the man replied to her face "And you're a crooked cuck!"
"You're also sick and greedy you lying, corporate schmuck!"
Little Princess Perfect who thought she'd already won
Laughed and played and called him names while he continued to run
"I will make this kingdom great once again I vow!"
And multitudes applauded him as he took a bow.
"You're all deplorable!" Princess Perfect cried
"How can you sleep at night taking this orange faced man's side?"
"Princess Perfect your days are numbered." he said in return
"People want this kingdom great. That's for what they yearn"
"People will never choose you!" Princess Perfect said
"Look at the polls you orange **** You're as good as dead!"
And all her court agreed she had already won
So laugh and play they did having unending fun.
Then when the day came to decide the combatant's fate
Princess Perfect with her court could hardly stand to wait.
"Get ready to celebrate my loyal, faithful fans!"
Princess perfect cried to all throughout the land.
And as the kingdom came together and began to count the votes
Princess Perfect felt a lump deep in her throat.
"What the hell is happening?" She cried to her staff.
The totals made no sense to her and all had ceased to laugh
"This is impossible! He's pulling way ahead!"
Princess Perfect panicked and her soul filled with dread
"I am Princess Perfect! I know I cannot lose!"
But the kingdom voted and the crazy orange man they did choose.
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
she wanted my soul
so I cut off a finger,
noting that this little pinky offering,
came from the same hand,
who, who went to the market
to buy her a love poem
all her own, because,
it was from the self same hand
that wrote:
*who, can cut a soul into pieces,
no one!
so one will still ask you,
who!
who will love you
in whole poems,
that are both past and future tensed
composite composted,
from words overly overused,
but still foolishly feeling brand new
when referencing you,
so you can believe with new fool-thinking,
this is your sole composition*
she wanted my heart,
applauded her determination,
gave her one eye to see me instead better,
so the visions she essays, to write,
like when I sit down to write
of women I’ve loved but!
they do not come from my heart pieces,
but from inside insight from of parts
that are blind to everything
but raucous untamable invisible desire
she asked me for all the world’s wisdom,
while standing on one legging,
I simply said, here I am,
telling you I’ll love you the way you requested,
if only to be loved in return
so with one eye and one leg,
you will observe, two is not more
than the sum of the parts of one love,
as I count to ten on my nine fingers
fingers that wrote of love not enough,
no matter how many he gave up
she wanted my brainiac left hemisphere,
said, sure,
the left side of me is where the baby poems
are created, and then angel-released when ready,
when needed, now that I
see you’re needy for pieces,
but still mistaken that pieces can be reconstructed into
a whole with spit and spirit
and an overarching imagination -
no!
the whole comes from only a holy place extracted
from the hole-in-one that is my entirety
give me then your utter essence,
the place of you
I, only I know exists, must exist,
but cannot touch to see
where you keep it hidden
from all the women who love you,
better than you even love yourself
if you want that, then collect it,
for it exists and lives on
in every woman that asked for nothing,
but was rewarded with more
than a thousand poems,
stored in stars, for her,
to be creamed and cleansed,
when she plucked them
from the night in the galaxy where exist
love poems, only
to she-one shone-shine
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 1:48 PM UTC
When we prefer the narrow gate
And tire of busy highways
We see the Kingdom come
When the master is the servant
And kneels to wash our feet
We see the Kingdom come
When the straggler is given preference
And the first steps to the back
We see the Kingdom come
When we serve the poor, the hungry
And take the stranger in
We see the Kingdom come.
When children are given pride of place
And followed as an example
We see the Kingdom come
When brother and sister are reconciled
While our offering is left to wait
We see the Kingdom come
When the temples are cleared of commerce
And prayer takes it rightful place
We see the Kingdom come
When the Sabbath serves the worshipper
Not the worshipper the Sabbath
We see the Kingdom come
When fragrant extravagance is applauded
And noses put out if joint
We see the Kingdom come
When the Creator's light is lifted up
And the Son is no longer hidden
We see the Kingdom come
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
In this space I've become a superhero.
You guessed it - my head is this place.
Crossing poems off my list to zero.
My words you've adored.
Appreciated approved and applauded.
You've given me confidence now stored.
Dreamy you've made me sound.
Tell me I'm good with my words.
I've written with feeling abound.
I'm not a superhero you'll find.
If I could speak the way I write.
I think I'd annoy myself.
:)
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
His heart was kept in a babooshka-doll
that released memory smells
with every layer that eroded.
The wooden fences faded
to damp brick in the corner
of his head reserved for the harmonica
that played through the microphone
in his neck till the sound got lodged
in his maudlin march
that had him running like he
was angry at the road.
His Echostep
vibrating in
the kremlin skin
and marrionette heart strings
that kept him.... him.
Despite broken wings
he made the air around him dance
with the resonance of each
broken crystal ball shard used
to predict the past.
Each chime raised a mountain,
folding back on itself
hoping the hallucination would end,
till tired hands
batted away golden hawks.
With rocks for claws.
It was all the fights with the wind
that had the clouds leaving the moon's
Picaso skies,
and sailing towards him on warships of
rain and frozen effigies.
They arrived, astronauts
from outer space
burning from the lips
outwards revealing grey
intent and red mists.
He fought back with false start
epiphanies and the falsetto
prophecies that stung the air
with pitch raining down.
Leaving bare branches where once
green hands applauded
everything but empty air,
like listless typewriters furiously
trying to find their voices.
Feirce winds and fake faces
left blinking with closed eyes
in the vastness of battlefield.
Turning stomaches and
blank canvas whirlpools,
storms of anti-peace
scarring the last conquests
of the flightless ape lizard,
and all his gorilla warfare.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
No, no, no,
that's not how it happened at all.
Precocious children
have never been afforded that much influence
and Emperors, then as now
are largely unafflicted by shame.
And it's a good thing too
- why, if the story had gone
the way Anderson had it,
neither I nor any of the men of the town
would have our jobs
at the Magic Cloth factory
You do realise
that the trade in Magic Cloth
supports all the world's major economies now,
don't you?
Nor would the aristocracy
look half so stylish,
sashaying hither and thon
in the glorious altogether,
applauded by the taste-makers
and notably contemptuous
of child-like observation.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
film. prayer. kittens in a box. serene nudes thrusting the skylight. trinkets in a first floor gift shop lifted by a man dreaming beneath a decompression chamber. a one use snowglobe. ash.
hole in a rabbit. a woman who talks once a year to firecrackers.
earth on earth. a baby without toes applauded for having two heels. a pregnant person who’s played on god
a simple hoax.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, no white the rest just black:\
reason to a reason faith held one capture
applauded reaches to fallen devils may fracture
prisoners of grace in ten hells same
on cedars that know no angel to not shame
one beat on the downtown line
once in twenty life times
stars align hailing pain
scars betrayed the blood of a shed stain
haunt a child of a pure soul no more
shadows chased for a find of bullet core
if money were on trees
then lands are leaf free
look the eye no lie
to a scratched unhidden cry
poison spreads a four feet stare
is it even of those a matter of fair
royal flushed they think a game under the rugs shipped
rushed hearts a lifeless drink on mindless sipped
ashes called out happy hour not shredded unlit
double vision as grown as useless as toxic as it
dropped corpses the live left to ache
hurt silenced been forever drowned on stake
worst of a future misery
crusted crumble like nothingness a cemetery
thunder smells
plaster lacked on dwells
I may not blurt wounds
because these things are
not nursed doomed
I know the knuckles of the cursor when I see
an everlasting torture painting smudges dancing in same place selfishly
-------ravenfeels
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 3:35 PM UTC
I am the
SAME
as you
I work in your community
I live in your world
I contribute
(too much)
to Capitalism
by frequenting your local stores
and buying
WAY
more items than
I need
I vote for your President
your Congress
your Governor,
I participate in politics because
I care
about the way
our world
functions.
And yet I'm not equal
I'm not "the same."
As if any of us even know what being
"the same"
means anymore
When I dated men you
ALL
applauded me, praised me
Even when I dated total
********
people said,
"Well you're just too good for him.
But you're such a great person for
being able to see past his
'rough' exterior"
I saw past
SO MANY
'rough exteriors'
And I was miserable
And I forced myself to
PRETEND
to be happy.
And loved
And love-ING.
But then
SHE
walked into my life.
SHE
had been there for awhile,
but I shoved the feelings to the side
because they're
NOT RIGHT
NOT
acceptable
NOT
real
NOT
important
Be with a man they say.
And I followed their rules.
Which lead to alcoholism
drugs
depression
suicide after suicide after suicide,
never
accomplished.
Which reinforced the fact that
my life would be full of
Failure.
And then came the kiss
(when my lips met her perfect lips)
that opened my eyes,
and changed my life.
Now, I may be
Unequal
Rejected
Frowned upon
BUT
There is no frown upon
my face.
For my world is
Complete
Authetic
Rewarding
Real
And I wouldn't change that
to cultivate the appearance of
Equal.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
there was a little mouse snooker was his game
and to be a champion was is only aim
he bought himself a cue and a little case
hoping maybe oneday to be a snooker ace
he praticed day and night doing lots of shots
chalking up his cue practicing his pots
now his time had to come ready to compete
to be a snooker star and make his life complete
getting to the final he had beat the rest
now it was the time to see who would be best
mouse he was on form and used all his skill
crowd they all applauded he gave them such a thrill
in the final frame mouse took every ball
clearing the table mouse he took them all
now he was the champ he had made is name
a snooker ace forever in the hall of fame
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Intellectual stimulation from a twisted mind
Bringing life to the insanity I tried to hide
Cracking whips to break the chains, feeling death drip from my veins
Pouring poison down the drain from infections inside
Chasing rumors through the sewers, lost in tunnels of depravity; God's the only viewer but this show's not quite reality
Gravity scraped knuckles with me all the way down
A brute stuck in a boot loop asking me to drown
These restarts after crashes turned my synapses to ashes
Now I can't feel the rats in my cyber cerebral casket
Dead in the head and strapped into my bed
I dug at my wrists until I saw red
The doctors applauded at everything the gauze did
It still couldnt stop it so on it bled
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC
"Tragedy of the grim fool"
Skinny little girl knows no rules
Reset her brain for grim little fool
Ate moldy food and rotten gruel.
For the growing heart she uses jagged tools
Chipped building blocks and rusted nails
Hammered souls breed a face with vales
Wearing mask her task she fails
All for food while fool set sail
Skinny little girl would scrape her knees
Hungry for fool in position to plead
Panhandle emotions dignity set free
Scorn and thorn by his laugh was she
Adored by her fans, but blind to their praise
Withered away with puffed cheeks that her tears graze
Fool applauded her corruption, endorsed her dismay
Her fans just stared as she fell of stage
With a thud she slumped to the cold paved floor
A circle gathered around once more
Scarlet fairies escaped her pores
Goodbye skinny little girl, fool has closed the door.
-Alexis J. Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC