Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The Bleak Poet Dec 2015
Bleed. Watch the crimson fluid leave your body.
Bleed. Slowly trickling down your arm.
Bleed. The feelings are overwhelming.
Bleed. You cry silently so nobody will hear.

Bleed. Your skin is stained red.
Bleed. Your eyes sting with tears.
Bleed. Makeup runs down your face.
Bleed. You try to silence your mind.

Bleed. You cut a little deeper.
Bleed. You hiss in pain.
Bleed. You become numb.
Bleed. The blood flows quickly.

Bleed. You don’t feel the blade slice across your skin.
Bleed. You begin to feel drowsy.
Bleed. You feel nothing at this point.
Bleed. You’ve lost the war.

– Bleed. // F.C.
possible trigger warning
Gunner May 2017
Skin by definition is a thin layer of tissue forming a natural outer covering of the body.
Skin is for people to tan, to clothe, apply make up to... to touch.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Mosquito bites.
Mosquito bites by definition are the itchy bumps that appear after mosquitoes use their proboscis to puncture your skin and feed on your blood.
Mosquito bites are for people to feel, to itch, to bleed, to scab and repeat. The entire cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Summer by definition is the warmest season of the year.
Summer is for t-shirts, shorts, exposure, swimming, tanning, skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
"It's Summer, put on some shorts."
"It's Summer, why aren't you wearing a t-shirt?"
"It's Summer, let's go swimming!"
Summer is a time for these questions, these statements, these words to fester, to breed like muosquitos, to sting like the bite of a bug.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

A Dermatologist by definition is a doctor that treats diseases, in the widest sense, and some cosmetic problems of the skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
The Dermatologist tells me to use this and to use that. Lotions and potions, as my mother would say. Slather, rub, treat, swallow.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Skin care.
Skin care by definition is the range of practices that support skin integrity, enhance its appearance and relieve skin conditions.
Get up, shower, sterilizing soap, body oil, steroid cream, medicated lotion, drink water and repeat the process before bed. My daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

A Seesaw by definition is to change rapidly and repeatedly from one position, situation, or condition to another and back again.
Seesaw, to push off the ground, into the air with a sense of victory and joy, only to fall hard to the ground with stinging ankles and sore calf's.
This isn't a playground anymore.
The Dermatologist says that if I don't get better, they'll have to put me on the pill.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

The Pill.
The Pill is an oral treatment for my condition. My eczema.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water.
The risk associated with the pill- Osteoporosis,  Muscle weakness, Mood and Behavioral changes, Increase in chance of developing cataracts,  Stomach Ulcers and Liver Failure.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water. The daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab.... **** it.

I would rather my liver fail and my bones go brittle then to be stared at on the street!
"What is that?"
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Is it contagious?"
"Don't touch me!"
I itch, my nails dragging over my scarred skin and pulling at wounds. I bleed, the welts that crack and leak drops from the red river that flows silently beneath my skin. I scab, leaving horrible lumps of ugly, hardened flesh to coat the once smooth area. I repeat....

Well, I don't want to repeat! I want to be able wear the clothes I want, to walk the streets with out the judging and questioning eyes of the passersby on me, to be held and touched by a significant other without the fear that their fingers will fall upon my skin and recoil in disgust!

Without looking in the mirror and wondering when I can finally begin to love myself.

I decided that today is the day! No more Itching! No more Bleeding! No more Scabs! It's time to break this ******* cycle.
Nikita Tshawe Jan 2020
Let me bleed
I would rather bleed
Than miss my monthly ****** cycle
Because of a life growing inside me like a little tickle
Let me bleed
I would much rather bleed
Than go nine months
Thinking how am I gonna feed these mouths?
It could be twins I'm bearing
This is regret I'm wearing
No, let me bleed
I would much rather bleed
I will bear the pain
As I bleed out like heavy rain
Let me bleed
I am more than happy to bleed
Blood, I've never been so happy to see you
Why'd you come later than you're due?
I thought I'd made a new being
'Twas the worst feeling
No, let me bleed
I choose to bleed
Stuck, thinking why'd I let him do it?
Let him flow inside my walls, why'd he do it?
Holding on to me for dear life as he did it
As if he was trying to create a new life with no guilt
I am not even his wife
My honour is my pride
No ******* children
That's strictly forbidden
I say no, let me bleed
I would much rather bleed
Sometimes I want to bleed,
To feel the red running down my flesh
Sometimes I want to bleed,
Because I already feel dead

Sometimes I want to bleed
Let the razor sing her sharpened symphony
Sometimes I want to bleed,
To feel my last breath leaving me

Sometimes I want to bleed,
So I force myself to carve
Sometimes I want to bleed,
My brain Oxygen starved

Sometimes I want to bleed
And feel my life slip away
Sometimes I want to bleed,
Take me to a better place

Today, I bleed for you...
One of those days.
Julia Betancourt Jan 2019
I never needed any pillars
Didn’t want them-
Wanted to give myself the feeling
No one else could

I wanted to be enough for myself
And I was
Then I wasn’t-
Embedded in the idea
That amazingness like him could love me

I let him in my chamber
Let him feel around my pillows
Let him warm me in the warmest parts of me
And lost myself in ignoring
That maybe my bed is not big enough

Maybe my brain isn’t quick enough
I realize too late,
And then my heart is not filled enough
Now my body is not sure enough

About my placement in a city
That used to make the world larger for me
Then the lights shine like his bedroom’s
And I think I really must be Calypso
Because the men are always leaving

I fell through the floor one night
Because I questioned if he’d need me
And then I let it, so the ground swallowed me
And I let it keep making me bleed

I bleed in constellations
And poetry,
Like he does
I bleed in love

I bleed in longing and goodnight’s
And feeling like I’m missing something
I bleed in wishing I could see him
In this moment
Instead of sleeping the same as I did

When he was one thousand miles away
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
But this heart will not stop beating

Maybe it doesn’t get enough
And the mind inside of it won’t think too much
I keep asking myself when the time will be
Where I have bled enough

Maybe it doesn’t get enough
And the mind inside of it won’t think enough
I keep asking myself when the time will be
Where I now bleed too much

But my pillars have grown curls as patterns
My hypnotic energy is wrapped in jeans
Dark eyes show more than oceans that hug this island
I have sailed myself to
Where he is gravity

He pulls me down but keeps me from drowning
I am floating, on water
Like ghosts do above attic floorboards
But I am bleeding like I’m living

I bleed in constellations
And poetry,
Like he does
I bleed in love
This heart will not stop beating

Maybe it doesn’t get enough
And the mind inside of it won’t think too much
I keep asking myself when the time will be
Where I have bled enough

Maybe it doesn’t get enough
And the mind inside of it won’t think enough
I keep asking myself when the time will be
Where I now bleed too much

But I’m living in a world surrounded by galaxies
Where down is up,
And grip is too loose to stay
And black holes keep on pulling

And he is gravity.
joseph le artist Nov 2018
She began by saying,
Will you sacrifice your own life for me ?
Let me get under your skin,
Make you bleed for the thrill of it,
Make your soul tilt when its tinted in the mist of the poker faces,
Can you bleed for the fun of it ?,
Bleed for the vanity ?,
Bleed for the chains ?
Bleed for the accolades ?,
Bleed for the trends ?,
Bleed for the false gods and goddesses ?,
Bleed for this purposeless system i have constructed ?,
My response to her was “I cant do that”,
The sacrosanct thoughts bleed from the unseen presence,
The Pure presence left my flesh numb and detached from the odds of death,
The Stings of death in the hand of the king of kings,
The king brings life once I surrender my life,
The fountain of glory springs up and floods my spirit well,
The fountain floods the wicked heart that fails,
Revive the presence once lost,
The heart is ready to set sail within the divine presences,
Can a man see the ugliness wrapped around his own heart ?
I have seen young men bleed viciously for the chaos from the heart,
Once again I ask myself ‘Should I take part’ ?
The Consciousness spark the imagery of the consequence ,
Untold stories of a pure unseen kingdom been left behind,
forgotten for the kingdom of Babylon,
Look closely underneath this bleeding sun,
Religious men and secular men  bleed for that day when the system becomes one,
Harold r Hunt Sr Sep 2016
We Bleed Red white And blue.
We bleed as a soldier is killed.
We bleed as a policeman gives his life.
We bleed as a child of many color die in the streets.
We bleed for the lost of a love one.
We bleed because we care.
We bleed because we ALL ARE AMERICANS
woolgather Jun 2017
I won't bleed
So don't worry about me;
I won't bleed
So it's fine if you hurt me

I won't feel
When you leave me
I won't see
The treacheries you'll be giving me

So let me rot
In my pedestal
Let them do what they want to me, it's fine
I don't bleed

I won't bleed
No point worrying about me;
I won't bleed
So hurt me

I won't bleed
My blood won't come gushing out
On the wounds and scars
You made for me

I won't bleed
So do as you please
I won't bleed
I'm already dead
It ran out a long time ago
Ignatius Hosiana May 2016
I'm so lucky to be from the pearl of Africa
where democracy is just but a name
where independence was given but with chains
where a thousand busk in the millions' pains
I'm so lucky to be from a country where reigns total freedom of speech
as long as you're not a member of the opposition
a country where freedom of speech only lasts until the speech is made
if only you could ask the hundreds incarcerated,most are dead
for what? for not not realising the freedom doesn't count after speech
I'm lucky to be from a country that gives no **** about human rights
especially these meaningless developments
like right to internet, what a sweet place to live
no Whatsapp, no Facebook nor twitter and why?
Tomorrow is the swearing in of our new old President...
not that age is important, after all it's just a number
tomorrow we usher in a very comprehensive government
one which has managed to stretch its tentacles across three decades
tomorrow we will see fat bellied millionaires
on screens of those who can afford televisions
congratulate our president who's filled with enthusiasm
to rule a poor mass who voted for their corruption free bellies
and thus social media could be used to bomb our young innocent leader
black mambas beautify our streets while jet fighters ornamentally
buzz across the blue skies, as if Osama has resurrected in Kampala
to the visitors, we are not at war...those are salutes to our most cherished one
the visionary, the most trusted, the compassionate
the one who wouldn't hurt a fly or swat a mosquito
we can't take any chances, just tune your channels tomorrow
for first hand glimpse of the merry and youthful dances
social media is a destruction yet our president deserves all ears
in the sky, on the streets from the hopeless unemployed
tomorrow we speak not of change but change without change
tomorrow we usher in steady progress for another five years
tomorrow we start to smile and wipe the tears
for tomorrow we acknowledge the old man is here to stay
I hear even the Zimbabwean tortoise is in the country
ready to congratulate his associate...these boys fought for their countries
they freed us from crucibles into their heavenly hades...
we should appreciate they have sacrificed too much...
tomorrow is public holiday, forward to conservative past we match
back from the beautiful future we don't deserve
tomorrow like helpless dogs we bow to our master's collar
tomorrow we bury our hopes for change and feed on this yellow muck
the swamp of greed, we can't risk defiance, we're stuck
we're like the long horned cattle of the west
for tomorrow the fat ticks start to **** and ****
but I wonder, for how long, for how long will we just talk?
when will we do more than just silently sob?
I bleed for my country or a country I once thought was mine
I bleed the taxes, the ruthless beatings, the tear gas
I bleed like a slave being whipped by these fatigued caravans
I bleed despair and melancholy and wander
like a headless chicken,for how long though? I wonder!
I bleed for God and my Country
for Uganda, I bleed...
I've cried reading this after writing...
it hurts loving my country...
Heather Valvano Feb 2017
Bleed out or
Bleed into one
Some have served their time
Some have just begun
We keep fighting
But no war has been won
Bleed out or
Bleed into one

Shout out or
Scream that it's done
Some read the signs
Some bite their tongues
White noise can be silenced
with a gun
Shout out or
Scream that it's done

Bleed out or
Bleed into one
Some are left behind
Some don't know how to run
Cover their eyes
Black out the sun
Bleed out or
Bleed into one

And when he looks down upon us
Can any say they were justified
and they won?

My heart bleeds out and is done
Torin May 2016
I had a sad creeping feeling in my soul
A sullen lingering in my bones
A sharp piercing pain
My sallow skin
A sorrow
And melocholy invades my being
Pervades my tainted blood
Even when I bleed
Its only tears
A sorrow

I bleed onto roses
I bleed into streams
I bleed with the clouds
I bleed in the rain

I had a longing eating away at my peace
A poison making me a home
A silent cancer spreading
My hateful disease
A sorrow
And darkness grows as my heart
My fingers only reaching
To sharpened razors
I hold on to bleed
A sorrow

I bleed setting suns
I bleed distant moons
I bleed becoming mountains
I bleed into oceans
Jinxx Dec 2014
I see my reflection
I hate what I see
I punch the glass
My knuckles bleed
I'm shattered
Pick up a piece
Slit my wrist
I bleed, I bleed, I bleed, I bleed, I bleed, I bleed, I blee........
Cameron Boyd May 2016
A breathing machine
is what I've become
no engine to rev in anger.

A tower of bones
with hands to shake hands
but no strength to hold onto purpose.

These feet making tracks,
they don't fill big shoes
and the shadow I cast will not make the news.

The direction that I'm going,
the perfection that's insisted,
I feel like I've been here
ten thousand times before.
Looking in a mirror
every single time
I go to open a door.

Every place I go
people are always leaving,
grieving about the greener grass they thought they'd found before.
Why's there no place that I've heard of
where the locals long to stay?
Why are dreams always found in the places far away?

I'm done with doors, it's time for bricks thrown through windows,
no more handshakes, only elbows in chest cavities.
I want to bleed, to bleed,
to stain more lives than I could ever cast in shadow.
You can't see the scars I have so I'll earn the ones you can,
I want to bleed, to bleed,
to bleed.

Who really needs an engine to rev up after all?
With gas prices so high
anger's not cost effective.
And who needs a heart to beat with passion
when blood makes people sick?
Who needs a heart to beat at all
when it won't beat back the dreams
of far away places,
both heaven and obscene.

As long as I'm not giving up
then I'm not giving in
and my dying breath will fan
the fire that's within.

I'm done with doors, it's time for bricks thrown through windows,
no more handshakes, only elbows in chest cavities.
I want to bleed to bleed,
to stain more lives than I could ever cast in shadow.
You can't see the scars I have so i'll earn the ones you can,
I want to be, to be,
to be.
Q Mar 2017
I have people to support and impress and make proud
I don't have the time or funds to afford breaking down
So don't take me seriously when I consider the knives too long
I'm an adult now, won't use the pain, am convinced it's wrong

But I do bleed pretty.

I bleed deep red, it's mesmerizing, stains the floor and bed
I bleed like molasses, slow drops hit the ground like lead
I crackle like a fireworks display, bubble up into vertigo
My vision gets hazy and the colors smear and the light glows

But everything gets better and I'm completely reformed
I'm no longer lonely or depressed or feeling unbearably worn
I don't choke back sobs when I'm in a crowd or at home
I don't stare at nothing and feel impossibly alone

But I do bleed pretty.

Now, I'd never touch a knife, never would go back to those days
When blood meandered down my arm in a thousand different ways
I'd never think twice, never consider diving into pain
And no knife on earth calls with a sugar-sweet whisper of my name

I am happy in what and where I've chosen, would never trade
I have no second thoughts, regrets, no uncertain days
I enjoy life, can't begin to fathom why I ever wanted it to end
I am satisfied with the lack of people I have to call friends

But I do bleed pretty.

A drop on the floor becomes a puddle so fast it intrigues me
One towel becomes four, it still smells like copper, isn't clean
The sound of a blade gently coaxing skin apart is bliss
Only heard when blood rushes in and out and all is quiet.

I do bleed pretty.
Sarah Williams Apr 2012
Iron chains rub my skin raw,
Keeping me safe.
From what? Help;
Pulling me down,
Keeping me down.

Teach me to bleed,
Rich, thick, red.
Scarlet for lust,
Scarlet for love.
Scarlet for the pain,
For the burns left by your fingers,
So indirectly, free from blame.

I can be better,
I can bleed better.

Open me,
Enter me.
I can bleed better.

Push me down,
Gag me.
I can bleed better.

Hurt me,
I am begging - help, wait;
Give me more,
Give me everything.
Teach me to bleed for you.
Wait, stop;
No more.

Force me down,
Smother me.  
Teach me to bleed for you.
*No more.
I bleed just the way you do
Words just do not leave a mark
That you can see
But words can scar

You don't need to see the bruise
But, damage has been done
Although it's hidden
It hurts to hide it

just like you, when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
just like you when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve

I used to hide my deepest pain
Not physically inflicted
Then I learned that words hurt more
I was one of the afflicted

sticks and stones will break my bones
but words will never hurt me
unless you know the words to use
And then choose to desert me

just like you, when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
just like you when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve

Bullies come in many forms
They live just to deceive
I used to hide away from them
Now, my heart is on my sleeve

I have a heart and it will break
But, it will always go on beating
For now, I always venture forth
No more am I retreating

just like you, when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
just like you when cut I bleed
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
Harold r hunt sr Apr 2017
We bleed as a soldier is killed.
We bleed as a policeman gives his life.
We bleed as a child of many color die in the streets.
We bleed for the lost of a love one.
We bleed because we care.
We bleed because we ALL ARE AMERICANS
Mark Jan 2020
Sniffin’ my cologne
Hair full of da gel
In like Flynn tonight
For my homies aren’t that bad
Their just a little ******* mad
Playing with sharp knives, oh no
What’s making ya bleed
What’s making ya bleed
They'll be floating through later
Maybe laying down, little white lines
I be a chillin’, by about half past nine
I’ll be a jiggin’ sum ******* da sofa recline
Yeah, your ever so kind and real kinda dope
What’s making ya bleed
What’s making ya bleed
What’s making ya bleed
What’s making ya bleed
Maybe it’s from da *****, that don’t know any better
Why no one tell him, she was my date
She done dead now, for **** sake
Thoughts about what we do and where to take
Like how now is she gunna be undiscovered
Authorities and her family, smell a whiff of her on my coat
Like sum dead wraparound ******* fox
So now I’m on the Popo’s radar
Everything I do now, even taking my mama to church
Hope she prayed extra hard
I need to teach those *****’s, who to cut and who to trust
Like I'm a god forsaken ******* preacher
I lost da last girl
I feel ****** and torn
What’s making ya bleed
What’s making ya bleed
Not again...
Don’t trust your homies all da time.

Thx Beache
Sketcher Mar 2019
Hey there Delilah,
What's it like in your ******,
I'm a thousand miles away,
But girl, I smell that **** from China.
Yes, I can.
I've got a nice white mini-van,
Lemme tie them hands.

Hey there Delilah,
Don't you worry about the distance,
I will be there in a jiffy,
Give this song another listen,
I'm by your side,
I came fast and now I'll slap your thighs,
And cover your eyes.

Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll ******* till' you bleed.
******* till' you bleed.

Hey there Delilah,
You know my **** is getting hard,
But just believe me, girl
Someday I'll let you out of this here car,
We'll have it good,
I'll have your life, you'll have my wood,
Just like you should.

Hey there Delilah,
I've got so much **** to say,
Why write you ten thousand songs,
When I could rub your **** all day,
I'd rub it hard,
From house, to school, to pool, to plane, to yard,
I'll leave some scars.

Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll ******* till' you bleed.
******* till' you bleed.

I wish upon a summer star,
****** strings for my guitar,
I think that's gross so I must be gay,
My friends will all make fun of you,
Degrading lies like, "You're a Jew",
You'll try to run but I will make you stay,
Delilah, I can promise you,
That one and one always makes two,
And two people create the greatest games,
Great ***** games!

Hey there Delilah,
You be good, and don't you diss me,
Cause, you're the sub and I'm the dom,
And you will be history if you do,
You'll end up in some cannibal stew,
The liver to swallow and the skin to chew,
Doing like cannibals do,
Like cannibals do.

Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll ******* till' you bleed.
******* till' you bleed.
idk man... just roll with it...
MBJ Pancras Dec 2011
It’s not My will, but Thy will,
Let Me die on the cross for their sins,
And My blood pave way to eternity;
Yet My Soul is sorrowful unto death.
Abba, take away this cup from Me;
Yet if it’s Thy will, and not My will.
Father, Thy promise Thou made with the serpent
That Thou would put enmity ‘twixt him and a woman,
And I should bruise his head;
Nevertheless he should bruise My heel.
For this is Thy eternal promise for man
Who been formed in Thy image;
But been smashed himself with the deceiver.
Flesh is weak and tempting;
Yet the spirit is willing and godly,
For Me too passed thro’ the way of the tempter;
Yet cursed him with Thy Eternal Word.
Unfelt agony runs into My soul,
When I bear the sins of the world,
And who on earth knows it,
Except Thou and Me, Who are ONE?
Do men know Me, Who is in Thee,
And Thou in Me, hath stripped off Glory
And hath become a servant to them,
And made in their likeness with all humbleness
Carrying the cross of shame and abuse?
My sweat is as it were great drops of blood
And Gethesmene I pray turns red.
Who knows but Thou ought ought to reveal
That My blood be shed on the cross
Which is the symbol of the new covenant?
Father, in the beginning I AM,
And all things made by Me and for Me
Who hath come unto earth as the Light,
And I AM Thy Glory, full of grace and Truth.
My Father, here come My betrayer,
For his time hath come to strike Me
As he has to bruise My heel,
And I should then bruise his head,
For it’s Thy Eternal plan of mystery.
Here comes he with the spirit of darkness
Carrying lanterns and torches and weapons
Of unrighteousness and ungodliness.
Father, let Me finish Thy work,
But strengthen Me with Thy Spirit.
Now the betrayer hath sneaked  unto me.
Look, he kisses Me amidst the mob.
Am I his beloved for his kiss?
Yet he is My beloved.
He hath dipped himself in My cup of blood.
It’s Judas kiss bought for thirty silver.
He hath sold his soul to the roaring lion
Which devours the sons of Adam.
I made Judas My apostle;
But he  made himself the liar’s instrument.
The night I am put in chains in the realm of darkness
And I am left alone with none to share mine.
Where are My apostles, My disciples?
I remember Peter’s words
That he said he would go with Me,
And I know the rooster should crow
After his denial of Me thrice to go.
He is a mere man who knows not
That things written be accomplished in Me.
They drag Me, kick Me with their boots of sins,
I am chained by their unrighteousness,
And am whipped by their blasphemy of My Father,
For when I am rejected My Father is rejected
As My Father and I are ONE,
And who hath seen Me hath seen My Father.
My people spit on Me all the way
Where blood from My body sheds.
The thorny whips tear My flesh;
Yet I rejoice in My Father’s will,
But their sins sadden My soul.
I am dragged unto the high priests
Who’ve been awaiting My trial.
Even My disciples have forsaken,
And left Me alone, but My Father in Me.
Am I held ‘midst people of the law
Which was the schoolmaster awhile
Until I finish it with My blood.
Their trial with Me hath begun with bitterness.
And Peter is seen with a mob at the fire.
False witnesses spewed on Me, yet contrary,
Whose arrows stuck on My statement
That I will destroy the temple,
And in three days I will build one.
Behold, And they’re spiritually blind and deaf.
They spit on Me blindfolding My eyes,
And play prophecy of hide and seek.
Each spit on Me is a sin of  theirs
And their hurt in not on My body but soul.
They kick Me with their boots with spikes,
And the unrighteousness of My people bruises.
My soul bleeds not of Me but of their doom.
The father of lies mocks at My Eternal plan.
The liar can bruise but My heel,
And his head is already beneath My heel.
My people strike Me with the palms,
And they slap on  My cheek with prophecy;
Yet I hold peace to defeat the liar.
No man is found to paint the pallor on My face.
I am denied thrice as of My mysterious plan.
I am tried till the sun sinks at the horizon,
And I become the laughing-stock of My people.
I thirst, but not a drop of water I ’m offered,
Where found midst earthly meals the disciples of the liar.
To liars My Truth seems blasphemy
For professing themselves to be wise and godly,
They’ve turned scoffers strolling in lusts.
I’m ‘gainst the mighty liars,
Who’ve forgotten I AM Almighty
Having denied the Power of the Most High
Whose Eternal plan of salvation is for them
Whose trial against Me is vain;
Yet satan in disguise kicks My heel.
My angels were struck in pride in Heaven,
And so were drained off into hell
With their filth and lust in darkness.
They spit on Me Who is the Lamb.
The trial ‘ere Pilate take its roots,
And no roots of earth are of Mine,
For My Father breaks off every branch
That beareth no fruit in Me.
For they wear attires of pomp and pride
With no clothes of righteousness.
Hidden in the mask of flattery
Pilate hath no way to mark justice;
Yet it hath been the Eternal plan of salvation
In Me Who is the Lamb of sacrifice.
Who knows My kingdom is not of this world?
I’ve come down to speak the Truth
That hath made the governor question Me:
‘What is Truth?’
And who believes I AM the Way, the Truth and the Life?
For all have eaten the forbidden fruit
Which hath set free the son of peridition
Who is the father of lies of all ages.
And Pilate sets free a convict as is the custom
Which hath a way in the Passover.
Truth sets free the blessed souls from Death;
But falsehood sets free sinners from Life.
I’m whipped in flesh to bleed;
But I  am whipped in spirit by their sins.
I’ crowned with thorns and twigs:
The metaphors of sins and iniquities.
They throw around Me a purple robe
And cry against Me in sarcasm
That I would live long as the King of the Jews
Whose minds are darkened by worldly wisdom,
For My kingdom is not of this world.
They slap Me on the cheek with arrogance,
I remember Judas’ kiss on the same cheek
Who hath drowned in the lust of silver.
I make neither complaint nor not of repulsiveness,
For it’s My Father’s will to bear the cross.
Back to the porch of the palace
I’m made the season with withering leaves.
Their crown and robe on Mine are their hypocrisy
Who cried against Me riding on a colt.  
Their crown and robe on Mine are their hypocrisy
Who carried against Me riding on a colt,
They threw their cloaks of praise and shouts
Across the way I trotted upon on the colt,
They laid branches cut from trees,
And I knew they were clothed with filthy attires.
Their praises and shouts now turned to curses  and abuses.
I’m now thrown into the hands of disciples of the liar
Who is a like a roaring lion to devour.
Their faulty law plays in their hands
And laughs at My Father’s Rock of Salvation.
But I laugh at the liar’s defeated victory on Me,
For in My resurrection Death hath no victory.
Who knows death took its roots since first transgression
In Eden with the consumption of the Forbidden Fruit;
Yet in Me Life is sealed in Him to Eternity?
I’ve longed for Judas’ godly sorrow like the prodigal son,
But he was bitten by the serpent on the Tree
Where the betrayer tasted the Fruit and died.
He took himself to the tree of death
For the taste of the Fruit turned bitter to him.
Power of this world hath blinded Pilate’s conscience
Whose power hath been predicted over Me
With My self-will hidden in the Most High.
The Eternal plan of salvation hath tied Pilate.
Who washed himself in his self-righteousness
And throws Me out for want of  pomp and pride.
Now I’m in the arms of thorns and bushes
Laden with the cross of the world set out;
Yet My journey thro’ human darkness is for a while,
For the Reward of Eternity is awaiting Me
And the ones who are rooted in Me.
Each whip lashed on Me is the multiple sins of the world,
And the spikes of the whips tear My flesh,
And I bleed with the agony of lost souls,
Whom I’ve made for Glory with My Father.
Behold! A toll strikes this hour
When I hear the hellish roar at a distance,
And I know the traitor hath flung the silver
Which have no price for his destiny.
I shed tears for him but he’s lost
For his death is certain in My Eternal Plan,
And who could change it but Me;
Yet it’s all My plan of mystery in the Father?
They hit Me with a stick o’er the head,
And mock lat Me saying ‘Long live the King of Jews.’
A scepter of stick ****** into My palms,
A game of mockery is played  ‘gainst Me;
Yet I am as innocent as a lamb led to the slaughter,
As writ in the Scriptures with the design of My Father:
I’m oppressed, and afflicted down to death on earth;
Yet I open not My mouth to charge complaints,
I’m brought as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before her shearer is dumb.
All the way I’m kicked to fall on the stony path.
Look! My knees bruised and torn for you,
Still are there moments of repentance from hypocrisy.
**! Here am I fallen on the thorny twigs.
Behold! My clothes are torn with blood flowing out.
They tilt Me with their pompous boots.
I try to lift Myself but laden with the cross.
Pity of sacrcasm plays in their hearts
And in turn a man from Cyrene is laid with the cross.
I carry the sins of the world for crucifixion;
But he’s made to carry the wooden cross behind Me.
Is it My Word that says unto you:
‘Take up your cross everyday and follow Me?’
Nay, but to forsake the world of sins
Be My doctrine with the love of My Father.
You cannot carry the cross I bear;
Yet you can carry yours beside Me.
Shouts of abuses thunder into My heart
Amidst the cry of lamentation across the way.
They hook Me up with scornful epithets
And the liar of the world bruised My heel;
Yet I walk the path of obedience to physical death
That My death on the cross shows Way to Eternity.
I hear the cry of My people,
Why do they cry with wailing?
Do they mourn over My trial on earth
Or o’er their sinful attires.?
Who knows, but I know?
They shed tears of emotions,
And who knows their sins crucify Me?
Behold! I hear the Nightingale’s song ‘cross the stormy breeze.
Is it the song of melody unto My people
For they murmur Nature too mocks at My trial?
But I know My creations are under My power.
They’ve painted the day’s sky with glooms
As their pilgrimage on earth smeared with sins.
Back on Me the cross is ****** and I’m knocked down,
And My face dashes ‘gainst rocks on the way.
The spiky rocks tear My skin to bleed,
I bleed and bleed till the last drop.
Little children kiss My bleeding cheeks
And they take the mark of My sacrifice.
The sun soars higher and higher
And each phase of My journey is of My Father’s plan.
I scale ‘gainst the steep hillock with lashes on My back.
The fiendish serpent laughs at Me,
And strolls with the exotic steps drowned in hellish dirt.
And I know he bruises MY HEEL:
But he ‘knows’ not I’ll bruise his head.
My disciples walk apart with arms tied,
For none can break the design of My Father.
The sun strikes the altitude and I reach the slaughter.
They drag Me unto the ‘place of the skull’.
Who’ve thought I would sleep ‘neath the grave
Which hath no future for death is once for all.
Their conscience is buried in darkness by the liar,
Like dried-up springs and clouds blown along by a storm,
Their thoughts and deeds lie in vain of glory,
All bundled in filthy rags of lusts,
Whose promise of freedom is spoken by the father of this world,
The mighty trap hidden with baits of freedom of slavery.
Who knows but My Father of My destruction of the Temple;
Yet be rebuilt in three days in glory?
Behold! They strip off My clothes to naked.
The serpent sneaks onto the Forbidden Tree
With a cynical comedy of errors;
Yet it bruises My heel with its bitten fang.
My Father drove out Adam and Eve from Eden
Who had turned unholy committed themselves to the liar.
Now the liar, he thinks, drives Me out into the grave.
But I will destroy him with My dazzling presence.
My garments  they part and share ‘mongst themselves,
And My robe made of single piece of woven cloth
With no seam found in it, thrown at dice.
Do they know it’s of the Scriptures foretold?
They lay Me on the cross down on the earth.
I recall My infancy couched on the manger:
How I was cared and nurtured by My human parents.
I was in the safe arms from bitter cold;
But now I lie sans comfort and in blood.
My arms are stretched across to be nailed,
Lost of strength My legs are pulled along.
My people watch the gory sight of crucifixion.
They nail My palms and feet ruthlessly.
How I healed My people from diseases
How I fed My people from starvation!
How I walked to listen to My people’s sorrows!
But they watch Me now lying on the cross.
Do they know of My death on the cross?
The nails are pierced deep into veins and nerves,
Streams of blood flow down unto My people;
But they kick My blood splashed ‘cross My face.
Unfelt agony and untold miseries crushed My spirit,
For they repent not of their sins but die
Forsaking My Father’s promise unto those who believe Me.
When nails are pierced Mine My Father strengthens Me.
I bear the pain for the promise of My Father.
They raise Me nailed on the cross.
Curses and abuses lashed on Me,
And they shout they’ve cut the root of the tree.
Alas! They do not know what  they do;
Yet My Eternal Plan of  these shall happen.  
I look at My disciples at the Cross
Whose darkened hearts I perceive.
Full of heaviness with a doubting hope
Of what will happen to Me and them.
They’re petals turned pale in the evening,
They’re the garden of Fall with no fruits bearing,
Like distant stars with faded light they look
My people fling upon Me mockery:
‘He saved others; let Him save Himself
Who claimed the Son of God!’
Not to save Myself is My advent to the world;
But it’s My Father's Eternal Design in Me
That salvation is for mankind in My Father’s likeness.
It’s written above My head of the Kingship:
‘This is the King of the Jews’
Who know not of My Eternal Kingship,
Not of this world, but of the Heaven.
Behold! The criminal on My left hurls at Me:
‘Are You the Anointed One?  Save Thyself and us!
Is he the son of Cain who turned a fugitive?
Is it not like “am I my brother’s keeper?
The convict on My right is another prodigal son
Whose sorrow of his filthy rags turns his blessed.
‘Lord! Remember me in Your Kingdom!’
My promise unto him hath crowned his a hope of glory:
‘This day shall you be with Me in Paradise.’
It is the prime of the day with beams of fire splashed across:
The sun is in its meridian lashing unforgiving rays.
Behold! The sun is darkened by the clouds of glooms,
It’s day but turns night as a premonition
What happens to the creation in My Day in Glory.
The temple of the city trembles at My Word’
And the curtain is torn in the middle,
Yea, Moses’ law turns unto rags with no price,
For I make the New and Eternal Law of love in Me.
Nightly day survives until My Last Cry’
Troubled with the heaviness of My people’s sins:
‘My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?
‘Yet it’s finished. Thy work on earth is done,
Father, here I commend My spirit unto Thee’.
Jesus Christ's ****** sacrifice for mankind!
Tayler Worley May 2020
I don’t just bleed Red, I also bleed White and Blue.
Those star-spangled colors might not run
But I know that mine sure do;
Not only for me but for all my kin under the sun.

I also bleed when a hero dies defending liberty,
Cause I know that Hero didn’t flinch
In the face of adversity
But stood tall not giving an inch.

I also bleed with those left fatherless,
Who bleed from an open sore
Being soaked with scarletness
feeling like they’re at Death’s Door

I also bleed red
Just like my parents
Who ask whats going on inside my head
To which I reply with blandishments.
I Want To Write With A Pen That Can Make You Bleed
On Your Crusty White Lips
You Mistook For Paper
Make You See Stars Within My Ink
While It Slowly Creates Words, Sentences, Paragraphs
I Want To Treat You Bad
And When You Wake Up
You Say,
"****, That Shyt Felt Good"
Knowing That I Wasn't In The Mood
To Give You Pleasure
But To Feel Your Mind With Pain
Like You Have Done To Me
So Now I Regurgitate It Back To You
I Want You To Breathe Fire
While I Put Out Your Flame With Ice
Trying To Cool You Down
From That Sweltering Heat
As Your Heart Beat Beat Beat
I Want To Make You Bleed
I Want To Make You Suffer
I Want You To Crave Sanity
Because Inside Of Me
I Feel Guilty
But No Sympathy
So I Want To See You Bleed
From My Writing On Your Walls
Because I Can't Answer Those Calls
From 911 To Zero
Cause I'm Not Your Hero
I Just Want To See You Bleed
Then You Will Know How I Feel
While I Was In Need
To See You Bleed
phalaenopsis Nov 2015
the shards of my shattered blood line
piercing into my lungs
tearing it open

letting me bleed my sadness out.

i bleed slowly;
                       i bleed,
                                    i bleed.

your vibrant persona is too much for me to handle,
it feels choking at times.

but nonetheless i am attracted
like a moth to a flame.
i know it is dangerous,
i know it will only end in my execution,
but i go in anyway
orchestrating my own death.

i plummet into your aura,
i take it in.

and a small part of me believes
that you even had the smallest inch of care for me.

but you don't.
it's someone else it always is.

it's always the 'it's not you it's me' crap;
or the 'i don't feel the same' torture.

nonetheless it breaks me,
and i break in silence.

the saddest part is i thought i had a chance with you.


what a joke.

it can't happen,
it will never happen.
and that is all there is for me.

there is no yes or inbetween.
it is always no,
a resounding no.

but it's not your fault.
i know i am an ogre,
a monster with two minuscule eyes,
with my pores oozing acid,
and my mouth spewing fire.

my fiery temper restricts all suitors,
i know i cannot be tamed.

maybe that is why.

i am boundless and limitless and that may be intimidating.
but i am human,

and every human has that one boundary and
that one

that was meant to be you,
meant to be you for me.

but you have someone else,
someone prettier and better.

so be happy, because that's all i want;

but for now,

i bleed slowly;
i bleed,
i bleed.
i'm currently mending a broken heart by using the only means i know how... poetry.

Word of Advice: boys are torture
Masindi KEJ Jul 2020


Charlie Chirico Oct 2013
"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told.
Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic
to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any
unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult.

Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting
individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to
a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems.
And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point.

They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily.
Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential.
Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant.
Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential.

I don't bleed ink.
It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that.
Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out.
Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count.

Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter,
knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about
length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation.

But I don't bleed ink,
and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.
Lauren Pope Jan 2014
This year I'll bleed for better reasons.

I'll take a tumble after a night of drinking at the bar,
knees skinned and raw because I wasn't used to my heels.
I'll brush it off and let the blood trickle down my legs
as I stumble back home at 2 am.

I'll learn to hold my liquor.

I'll bite my tongue a thousand times and taste copper.
Whether silencing myself for my mother or my professor,
the friend who thinks she's always right. Or the *******
who's screaming sexist jargon.

I'll learn to pick my battles.

I'll cook myself delicious meals and the knife will slip
while I chop shallots and potatoes for my feast built for one.
I'll let my ****** battle wounds season the food and I
won't flinch at the thought of eating another meal alone.

I'll learn to love myself.

I'll pull the knife from my heart and back and wield them
like weapons fit only for my hands. I'll lick the blade clean
and scare anyone who dares try and harm me.

I'll never bleed for you again.
I'll bleed for better reasons.
David Chin Oct 2011
Our hearts are bleeding
The hearts of people everywhere
All the wars
Are making our hearts bleed
Every death cuts deeper
With every home destroyed
With every life ruined
With every nation devastated
Our hearts bleed
We bleed the blood of everyone
With every name calling
Every act of discrimination
Every act of racism
Our hearts bleed the most
Because words hurt the most
Because words stay with us the longest
Our hearts bleed every single day
Because we go through so much
Pain and suffering and devastation
Our bleeding hearts
Bleed the same blood
As you and me
Because we are the same person
When we are attacked
By words
By weapons
By other people
Our hearts bleed
With the blood of comfort
Because we know everyone is united
Zavid Feb 2015
In beautiful shades of red
while no one is around
so no one can hear
your blissful cries that escape
no matter how hard you try
because everyone has the right to bleed

Bleed because you can
just as everyone can
nothing makes it special
it's just yours unlike everything else
just remember
that everyone has the right to bleed

Bleed because of sorrow and happiness
because those laughs
that you pull yourself off the ground with
because those tears
that you bury your love one to
because everyone has the right to bleed
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2010
Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
Thelma Musanhu Sep 2019
I bleed as not in pain or anguish
Nature reminds me of the beautiful crimson within me
My body celebrate in its own way
The crimson flow burst in its fullness rich in colour
Embrace the moment with joy, I am anxious,
Flows between my thighs, warm and thick,
I bleed a beautiful flow

Piercing glances shame me
Disgust is the flow that defines me,
Fear and Silence draw into the depth of a dark cloud
Rejection drowns the beauty in my flow
Joy and worth is ****** with each drop
My voice is silenced by my helper
I bleed a beautiful flow

Golden yet crimson is my flow
Anxiety unravel the shame  within me
Hideaway from my helpers just for a while
The flows leave traces of its existence on
Drenched in the cloths that cover me
The ground  I sit tells the world my misery
The crimson brighten only the ground I sit
Only darkness will hide my shame
I bleed a beautiful flow

I crawl away to my own dark place  
There dignity is nothing but a dream
A cloth to drain the flow is all I desire
My hope is on my helper but no,
They withhold their helping hand
I am drowning silence unable to speak yet,
I bleed a beautiful flow.

I yearn to plead with my helper for a moment
To lament my desire to hide my shame in a cloth
They throw a dark cloud over me, I am a disgrace
I am silenced even by my own kind
They too who have been pulled into a dark hole of silence
Their hope is far Gone with the Wind
Buried in the voices of those who claim to own my kind
My thoughts wander in misery and grief
As one lost in an unknown world,
I bleed a beautiful flow.

A voice from within calls out to me
It reminds me of the strength embedded in my kind
A gentle whisper tells me to celebrate my flow
I must rise and say the first words although fear grips me
I rise like a tide and fight for my own kind
I speak although silence is expected of me
I must fight for my beautiful flow
I bleed a beautiful flow
******* is a beautiful experience that every woman should celebrate over and over. I am raising awareness about period poverty through poetry. We would like to see an end to the negative social norms that exert girls in a place of vulnerability so much that they cannot ask for help when in need.
to the boy who hardly speaks but has the eyes of a wolf
you have brought all emotions to me all at once
and despite your ignorance, i am captivated
the world shifts and creates a surrounding
filled nothing but my thoughts and my feelings
although attaraction is invalid,
i remain hopeful
and even though distance itself is a hindrance
our bodies are far more of a wide range of space
rather than a union of souls
our gravity differs
mine is so much of a pull
and yours is more like a push
we end up in different locations
navigation is nothing
and our minds spiral in a different way
sparks of color
shatter of glass
sun rays
rotations like head aches
my heart aches
i have nothing to do but bleed
bleed through the sheets soaked in regrets
bleed through water i'm drowning in
bleed through the papers i've been torturing with my pen
bleed throught the void
hoping to start again
bleed with all my might
for the pain is too much to bear
and love is nothing but fear
and scars and death
to me
i believed in the figments
the holograms that bloomed out of my mind
i believed in it so much
i became too distracted to realize
that you started to be one
i started to be one
and what is left is nothingness
a black hole
and the stars i used to align are now erased from history
all those heavenly bodies obliterate
breaking out of its cosmic cages
and the chains break
your teeth grit
your eyes pierced through me

i bleed once more

i bleed until there's nothing left

you left me clueless

years after. it's been a long time.

i wrote this on dec 29,2015 got published on a local art community zine
I walk the world with thoughts of you
In every place I go
Your voice is on the winter wind
Your footprints in the snow
And every tool I try to use to scrape you from my mind
Cuts your name onto my tongue
And beats me till I'm blind
I layed my head upon your knees and breathed the air you breathed
I cut myself when you were cut to know just how you bleed
Now as I walk this empty earth with nothing but a face
To breathe me and to bleed me
Until I leave this place
Break me, break me
Tear me down
Hurt me, hurt me
Rip me up good
Just like I knew
You always would
Cut me, cut me
Watch me bleed
Pour salt in my wounds
Pretty please
Make it sting
Don't stop, don't stop
Get in there deep
Rub it in
Watch me bleed
Slice me, slice me
Split my heart open wide
You know all the painful ways
Most of which
You've already tried
No use in begging
I've tried to plead
No use, no use
Might as well
Just watch me bleed
Break this mirror
If you must
Use the glass shards
To cut me more
Crack me, crack me
If you please
But without the mirror
How could you
**Watch me bleed?

— The End —