"bargaining" poems
There are traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Spreading rumors, keeping secrets
Lighting silent fires
Pacing in the bedrooms
Quiet in the halls
Sneaking after midnight
Conspiring behind walls
Pretending to be royalty
Called themselves "king and queen"
Throwing out words like garbage
Not saying what they mean
Not taking time to think
Just playing a silly game
Betraying flesh and blood
not feeling any shame
Full of carelessness and greediness
But acting so sincere
Watching with fake smiles and laughter
Ignoring every tear
Throwing "traitors" in the dungeon
While deceiving on the thrown
Punishing those "committing crimes"
Not looking at their own
There were traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Bargaining with enemies
Igniting silent fires
Now there is no castle
No whispers in the halls
Nothing hiding behind doors
All that's standing are the walls
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal
On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal
The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul
While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll
The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion
Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction
Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting
Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying
With logic and reason as both weapon and armor
Against an enemy not easily made for capture
Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing
To release the mind from seemingly rotting
The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason
The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration
In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned
A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned
Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence
Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance
With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence
Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence
And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner.
the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to:
denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance
my denial proces:
many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident.
through denial became anger:
i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry.
bargaining is a toxic healing method:
i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken.
depression hit hard:
i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help.
acceptance:
this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
This poem isn't one about boys.
This poem isn't a tribute to the girls
Who got their hearts broken by an idiot.
But I pray for them too.
This poem is not plea for attention,
This poem is not a bargaining chip.
This is to the little girls who's
Fathers hurt them more
Than any boy ever could
This is an ode to the girls who cry over
An abandoned office.
This is for the warriors who fought through the pain.
You've wondered if it was your fault.
You've wondered if there was anything
You or anyone could've done.
The nights you've seen pass by
As you contemplate why he didn't stay
Are countless.
You've written poems about the
Emptiness you've felt
Because of his absence.
You've rehearsed in your mind what it would
Be like
If he came back.
You've thought about how it would be
If life were perfect.
...
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
It's been 1 month
and it pains me to breathe
and I'm trying to act like I'm okay
but I can't help but feel
all of my emotions at once
I don't know how I'll make it
without you by my side
I took a chance with you
what was I expecting
while bargaining with the devil?
It's been 2 months
it's like learning to walk all over again I'm still shaky
but I can stand on my own
I have a fear of falling and getting hurt but I do it anyway
because the world doesn't stop
for anyone
and I need to get a move on.
3 months have passed
and I have to pretend
that I don't notice that you're happier than you were with me.
You finally cut your hair
like I begged you to
and stopped biting your nails
I've taken up the occasional cigarette
to rid the taste of you on my lips.
It's nice to have something
inbetween my teeth than your tongue and feeling the stress leave faster
than you did.
It's been 4 months
and I wake up
shaking and screaming your name until the echo soothes me
My dreams are haunted by you
and I can't escape you in my reality. I've dyed my hair
and changed mindset.
I'm not the naive ***** I was before.
I don't let people walk over me
and tear me to shreds.
Half a year has gone by
and I'm still searching for something
to fill this void
I miss you terribly
and there's not enough drugs
in the world to give me the high
you gave me when we kissed
I saw someone who looked like you the other day and my heart froze
My initial reaction was to hide
I couldn't stand the thought
of you seeing me
and the look of disappointment
in your eyes
I didn't want to
hear how great your life has been
without me.
Luckily it wasn't you.
Unfortunately it wasn't you.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
i. denial
you aren’t gone, no.
you’re going to come back to me.
you’re going to come back.
ii. anger
you promised you’d try;
but the second things got hard,
you didn't look back.
iii. bargaining
its not over yet.
we aren't unfixable.
we’ve come too far now.
iv. depression
i wasn’t enough.
you told me you’d always stay.
you’re not coming back.
v. acceptance
you were my first love,
the first to truly love me;
you won’t be the last.
pc
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
****** *********** began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
Up to then there'd only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.
Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.
So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) -
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
3k
August is anger
August is despair
August takes me there
To blood
To the flood
August is death
And gloom
It takes me from my room
Violates me
Mocks me
Then puts me away
August makes me pray
August is red
And rage
Gotta get out of this place
August is nothing
But grief
Never a relief
Sadness
Depression
Bargaining
Anger
And acceptance
Well not quite there
August is everywhere
And nowhere
I lose it
In august
I lose it
In months of eight
I'm always late
In summer
It creeps on me
Like drips of sweat
Dripping into my flesh
Burning my veins
Leaving nothing
But my remains
August remains
And it's seeping into
September
Or march
Maybe June
Or July
The 8th month _s p r e a d s_
Just like all your lies
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 6:23 PM UTC
i am abrasive
personality functionality deficit
yet i attract
beautiful women
to befriend the hermit of solidarity
will you go out with me
brought answers on no
my friend i could not lose
yet for the end of altruistic bargaining
i end up ahead
with false promises of a beginning
to an end my own personal
apocalypse
david lee roth would understand
that as i write in this
mindset
brought on by reading
778 comics in 12 hours
and a 4 day binge of job for a cowboy
my mind wanders
as insomnia sets in
would i be one of the great
dissociative poets?
a dose of the unrequited free associative minds
free thinking form of diet coke with a side of purple strawberries no i meant blueberries
my mind wanders
and yet i look forward to pad thai on wednesdays with cute blondes whom with i stand
the chance of a bat in the mosh pits of a metal band
suckers
i win
for you all know the taste of yellow mustard
ramble ramble ramble
this indie pop poem
would it be ironic to like it
if one truly hates the wording
and yet loves the idea
one of lives greatest life mysteries
alcohol i bid thee a fair welcome
nimble bubblegum monkey wrench
how long will you read?
enough to to see my lack of coherent sentence structure
or that i am a flawed creation
going on and on about existential non existent problems
for i shall exist regardless of my best intentions
as the wheel continues to roll on despite the moss covering this ice slicked track
metal boar slayer of a thousand suns would be a good metal name from sweden
the mooring dove coos to the beat of an undead drum
boo hoo boo hoo cries the witch at the stake
i am done
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
When words fail and the song dies in your soul
The soft cushion weighs heavy, threadbare, when
Dust invites the attic attack to the last memory stroll
A fretful protest march accompanying the wood grained heart
You noticed the space in short supply, with tight breath, the
Expert bargaining skills have begun, bypassing
The weak hearts, those that are still journeying
Their healing held up in tight palms of moistoned skin
And the slide into another day begins, dreadfully
With arched pain barriers drumming their morning
Beat. Occupational hazard was on the rampage
Cracking skull caps from their skinned residence
I shone a light into the acute grey tone of those
Hearts, those whose shapes lost conviction as the light
Shot arrowed tongues from the deaf interiors of wise men
Out on the town of feeble failings, they held nothing as their companion
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 7:15 AM UTC
Dark nights where pain resides
No where to run, no place to hide
A young child, a boy of only five
A young child, a boy of only five
Giving chase were the foreigners
Hunters, killers, demons alive
No where to run, no place to hide
In this place where pain resides
"Pull the trigger... Now."
The first shot rang out,
The boy loses his left arm which held his prized possession
A bamboo stick, shaped into a doll
Now sitting in his right fist
The second shot rang out,
The boy loses his right arm and his bargaining chip
He sits on his last two limbs,
He cries out in pain and anguish
Two more shots ring out,
His right and left legs burst out
From right underneath him,
Giving way to the soft ground
Soaked in his blood and his tears,
As he sniffles and goes into shock
The soldier steps closer in fear,
And then the boys face was lost
Another soldier asks them
"What the hell have you done?
He was only a child, a boy,
Why is this the outcome?"
At this moment a man turned a corner
His grocery bags fell to the floor
As he laid his eyes upon
The torso that lay in an ocean
Of blood next to a bamboo doll
That he had made 5 short years ago
He slowly said, "My Son."
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.
There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.
Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.
You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.
Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.
That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.
And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Bargaining with yourself
lungs beating back and forth
like wary eyes
scared someone might see
and know you've lost it
gone so subtly that
not even you knew
(until this moment).
Not even you noticed
your anchor's been dragging for miles
But still, a bargain.
Self, I will act as though I'm sane
and in exchange
please illuminate me as to
what the hell has happened.
We'll shake on it.
(I am afraid neither side
will stay its promise)
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
As a footnote, I’ve always held a certain regard for those plentiful fruits. Raspberries. Small and juicy and sweet. Quick and easy.
Now, it’s apples on the other hand I heavily despise.
To eat an apple is to make a commitment. Society generally frowns upon those who eat half an apple, just to toss out the rest. And most people are not exactly bargaining for your leftovers once they’re brown and teeth marked. Apple eating is a long and rigorous ordeal. Halfway through, the raw parts begin to stain or dry and when you’re finally finished, you’ve still got to deal with that core and the skin that’s stuck in your teeth. Herein, apples and commitments become synonymous. Convenience, the antonym.
Raspberries, however, are miniature, and zesty, and only last for a matter of seconds.
Not unlike ideal high school relationships.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
Red, dark and light, apples,
They sell it for Rupees 80 a kg,
Available sans the ripples,
But sans bargaining not so easy.
Even the grapes, delicious,
They sell it for Rupees 80 a kg,
Appears to be so luscious,
There're many other fruits here.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
My tongue shakes to the rhythm of the undead
It's useless praying against all that I said
You end up unscarred 0% alive
For people you end up dead just another stone named R.I.P.
No words of apology to help you through
Heaven awaits in vain, as Hell beckons you
Bargaining your life on both hand sides
Hell pays more than what Heaven calls most
Greedy as you are you choose the dark side
Rotting as Satan laughs and tortures you
Came to realize a mistake was made
Fruitlessly awaiting nothing for all the sins you repented
Shackled to doom, your life wasn't yours anymore
You wondered what worse yet was still in store
You beg to my feet to appeal to the Lord
You throw your hands in despair as I see you burn, with glee
Why should I help you when I had been through the same in history?
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:45 AM UTC
Love is tacky.
Love is cheap.
Love is scrolling through an endless amount of ****** online dating profiles
on a Saturday night.
Love is not subtle.
Love is two people bargaining,
lying to each other,
lying to themselves.
Love keeps track of every misstep
so as to hold it against their partner in an ongoing war of attrition
so that they get to pick what to watch on Net-Flix.
Love does not rejoice in itself,
but does so on Facebook,
so that you can rub it in the face of your ex,
and all those friends that just really want to watch you fail.
Love is cheap.
*** with a price tag marked to sell.
Love is dead.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
I can't really coherently put my thoughts in to words but I need you to know that I still miss you just the same..
I talked with my psychiatrist today. He says we make up scenarios in our heads and months from now we will tell our own version of our story. He told me I shouldn't still be here, waiting for you, and I got so angry. I was so frustrated that he wasn't listening to me. He wasn't understanding how honorable you are or how we are different from other couples. How with us, it's always been us. But then I remembered, denial is the first step in grieving a loss. I have known that you are gone, but it still doesn't seem real
Soon, I'll be pissed. Not like now, where I get mad and then sad again, but I might actually feel over you. Doesn't mean I will be, but for the time being, my heart will feel some relief. You have made me so **** vulnerable. When it comes to you, I can't tell if my emotions cloud my judgement or not. And that ****** me off too
Next, bargaining. I will plead and plead for you to come back. I will bargain anything just to feel loved by you one last time. You, of course, decline
Depression will kick in. I'll wonder what I could have done to make you stay. I'll wonder if my constant begging drove you further away. I'll need your reassurance, but it won't be there
So finally I'll accept it. I'll accept you there, me here
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
cyclic lingering
disconnected rambling
the same words rearanged
breathes shortening
impotent bargaining
the same pattern misbehaves
Ive always walked this way
hormonal litter cursed by anatomy
hyesteria
weepy futility
uncharacteristic of one so bold
the words of tongues
drag mud through wounds
a voided heart : not so
deep breaths
stand strong in misery
mindfulness, like a drug
disconnect and call it religion
pacing pacing pacing
thoughts;
I bleed for the words of others
For both praise and scheming lies
I wish to leave this haunted soul
but I
But I
but I ...what?
need to run?
to hide?
to hold my ground?
we'll see as it comes
a controlling women's worst nightmare
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
mantra and insolence hand in hand
intercepting the idea of the baby boy crush applying to me like kinetic sand
barbie dolls at the marriott
saccharine jewels in the sewers rot
with
the old girlie i had a tap on
lipstick peeling away like a deteriorated vinyl record's song
let the angels waver, barter, become sicker
and quote 'say anything' as if it's a 90s sticker
have vomit-stained carpet posted
and
uploaded to the black market webs
caption it ****** me"
and let the media do the rest
tired of these wicked games
isaac position me with rachel some day
at the mosque, eve and ann is scratched out into the old testament books
pack the bags
let's go
the hilton's booked
etch and sketch situated on the train tracks
along with two birds together
feet lazily dangling
bargaining with god to finish them over
****** denial, toothbrush stuffed in the dog's mouth
ran down the line, kissing him to the south
lost the baby girl along the way
let the dirt do the talking
gargled some milk and jack daniels honey
in large arms, lucid dreaming never seemed so calming
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
Don't look, don't look for it I tell myself,
Let it come to you the world says,
In places alone I wish for her,
You wish for him,
When will we find each other?
Please let me fall in love again...
They don't make fun of broken hearts,
Everyone's got one,
You'll get a smile that says,
"I've been there too,
You too will soon know better than to be a fool",
I know we haven't met,
May be we might,
Till then i am bargaining within,
Inside I quietly say, I hope,
Let me fall in love again,
In the late hours when I wish for someone,
I will wish for you,
I will whisper your name,
May be you will hear me,
Together we can feel the same,
Let us fall in love again.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, don't hide it---we miss them:|
me being a runaway flying in the black hinges
soaring in the twinkling skies
I crave you as a hungry wolf that knows no boarders of freedom
in there in the shady street
as I dive into my vulnerability you sense my need
you sense my desperation
its like you read my locked lines
among the flowers of the highs
in the publicity of tamed crimes
you have me
running on rage
screaming on blades
the cake comes and you appear none
lying down
hating the crowds
the bargaining weight of these suicidal sounds
where are you???
nowhere to be found
leave me in yells when the time ends and dwells
this is a first in a hell
do you intend to choke me to death again???
it is me who you pressed undamned on your wided chest
and carried it all away in a mild stance
when no one dares
to a slightest bare of your cans or cares
don't forget me still not lying
still breathe for your touch
and your essence on that spot
just tell me where
and my heart will voluntarily beware
to be awaiting a hold of torments in the bliss of fair
when you mindlessly gear
affording to disappear
a night changes its shades into a million gleams
you seem to draw on my warm sheers
------ravenfeels
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
a soul is a bargaining agreement
mind,body, and soul is a bargain
bargaining a soul is bargaining,
the mind,body, and soul
to bargain a soul is to bargain the mind and body
agreement of the soul is agreement of a bargaining
agreement of the soul is the bargaining of the mind,body, and soul
a soul is a agreement of a soul
a soul is a agreement of a mind,body, and soul
the soul is the mind,body, and bargain of the soul
confusing the soul is confusing the mind,body, and soul
the soul confuses the mind,body, and soul
confusing of the soul is the confession of the soul
confusing of the soul is confusing of a confession
confession is confusing of a soul
confession is confession of a soul
confession is confession of the mind,body, and soul
confession is confession of an agreement
the mind,body, and soul is the confession of the mind,body, and soul
a bargaining agreement is a confession of the mind,body, and soul
a bargaining agreement is a confession of a bargaining agreement
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 1:04 PM UTC
Ham took you to a cafe
on London Road;
he was meeting
Bernard there.
Sit there,
Ham said,
indicating a table
by the wall with wallpaper
with a flowered pattern.
You sat; stared
around the cafe;
frowned at two men
at the next table.
Who's there?
You say,
pointing towards them,
wondering where
your Lord Hamlet had gone,
and these two jesters
at his court.
What's the matter, love?
One of the men said,
smiling, eyeing you,
taking in your hair and eyes.
Nay, answer me,
you said, stand,
and unfold yourself.
Ham came over
to the table:
Hush, Ophelia,
he said.
He apologised to the men,
twirling a finger
at the side of his head.
You gazed at your lord;
he contested
with these jesters,
you surmised,
eyeing them.
They looked
away from you;
conversed between themselves;
sipped their mugs of tea,
ate their breakfasts.
You sat gazing at your lord
bargaining with a rogue.
He brought
two mugs of tea
and bacon sandwiches
and sat opposite you,
his back to the jesters.
Bernard will be here soon,
Ham said, gazing at you,
behave yourself.
Bernardo?
Yes, Bernard,
so keep your voice down,
Ham said.
He began his sandwich;
you began yours.
Bernard came in the cafe
and ordered a tea,
and waved.
Bernardo,
you said,
you come most carefully
upon your hour.
Hush, Ophelia,
Ham said.
Bernard smiled at you;
he tried to understand you
and your vocal expressions.
Bernardo,
you said softer
and waved.
He waved back
and paid the rogue
and went, and sat next you,
facing Ham.
Unfold yourself,
you said.
Ham raised his hand
to hush you.
You sat and ate
and drank.
Your lord was speaking
with his minister;
he spoke of battle,
you assumed,
and jested of wounds
of war.
You felt your ***
beneath your dress;
it felt so sore.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
where's
the fun
in being
vulnerable
if there's
no one there
to use you
what's
the point
of being
lonely
if there's
no other island
to cruise to
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC