"beleiving" poems
Full of anger and sweet sorrow, the fragile butterfly desperately wants a home. She wants the sunshine, she tries to be the sun. All is fair in love and war. Her wings chip away when she is dropped all the time. But this is the price she pays for flying to high places. And beleiving. The price she pays for embracing the wind so unconditionally, for shedding her colors onto gray spaces all because she knows color and about how joy is attained. Her screams are so silent and pierce through the ears of all the rocks of all the mountains. Thus she has no defense but the voice of the mute. She stands alone on legs so weak in a courtroom of lions. She wonders whether she might sometime be granted the privelage from the wind to be carried off and spread into many many different things out into the stormy waters of the ocean. Perhaps then through multiplication, she might be cancelled out. She gazes longful of such a plight out onto the water and by the bank of her broken dreams she sits down to weep.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
i see this face
this face i see
is tortured and at peace
it speaks for all
and all it speaks
the language of a sunset
beauty burned into its words
strong and full of reason
i hear this face
and no one else
the world has gone dead silent.
i see this face
this face sees me
its eyes tatooed with wisdom
dipicting tales of past and present
the future of this generation.
caution creeps behind its eyes
warning and protecting
yet leaving all to fight alone
the miseries
of blind beleiving.
i see this face
who has no face
lost in realization
crumbled and contorted
by a selfish
oblivious civiliazation
it crys without a tear duct
releasing from the heavens
a pure and noble life preserver
contaminated by humanitys freedom.
i see this face
disintagrate
befor my very eyes
collapsing into space and time
i feel the heart
the soul the source
of my humble existance die.
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
**** these old thoughts
**** these bad memories
i wished would die and rot..
They come like morning glories
they come back every day
to taunt me back to the deep abyss
**** them all in every way
i want them to die, i'd never miss...
To hell with my heart and **** my head
i was my own fool, i shouldve seen it...
beleiving the lies that were fed...
i'm sick of dealing with ****
When will they stop... Stop ******* with me?!?!
I mean, what the hell?? This isnt fair!!!
How can she move on and act like she doesnt care?!?!
I lie here broken and lost...
while she crushes the heart that she tossed!
the least she could do is give me a glare
acknowledge i existed then toss me to the bears
**** it. I'm done. I'm still here and in pain.
just know about this wolf's heart that you've slain.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 9:02 PM UTC
He calls for her in the night
From his place on the kitchen floor,
Broken bottles scattered about his feet,
He picks up a piece of one,
Holds it loosely in his closed hand.
She comes to him reluctantly,
Her footsteps whispers on hardwood.
He tells her to sit with him,
Amongst his shattered discards,
She lowers herself, silencing protests.
His hand brushes her leg,
Beckons her to come closer.
She swallows her fear, glancing back
In the room she'd left is her life,
Her joy in this nightmare of a house,
There is a wooden crib,
A small boy stirring inside it.
She's almost lost her boy once.
She moves closer to the man,
Her body trembling with knowledge
Of what comes with their closeness.
His hand moves up her nightgown,
Grazes the marks he left before,
He was fond of leaving them there
Beleiving it claimed his territory.
She shakes, gives him her body
Only hoping it stops his anger,
That she can protect her baby
If only for one more night.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
How did I feel when you died? How did I feel?
How would anyone else feel losing the person they loved?
Love.
I never could stop.
You know...you know how I believed in ghosts?
How, how I thought unfinished business would keep you here.
I don't anymore.
I stopped beleiving.
Not immediately, no
Because I wanted so badly to think you were still with me.
It was after I didn't feel you anywear,
After I paid someone $300 for sessions to talk to you
And she said things that were untrue, that never would have come from your mouth.
How did I feel when you died?
Easy, I didn't.
Not sure I ever will again.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
He who believes lies,
will be the one who shares
it with others
Only to make himself feel
less gullible for believing,
and realizing its not the truth..
But a fabrication extended to a bigger untruth..
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC