Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
m Oct 2017
It’s hard to find
the truth in the dark.
My thoughts stumble
into others
trying to sort
the real from the fake.
I cannot tell
if the shadows
that are on my wall
are real monsters
or ones of my own creation.
Either way  
I will allow them
to swallow me whole.

While the edges
of the truth blur
you lie next to me.
You are peaceful.
You are silent.
You are motionless.
I want to scream.
I do not have
the courage to ask you
what is real
and what is fake.
I do not have
the courage to
turn on the lights.
Dark Fjord Nov 2016
THE LAST ADMINISTRATION

From my forbearance, and failure
of warm touch
born Saturday, 3:00 p.m
this date: the moon landing.........now, 18364 days old later

Pay to the
Order ........... ...........$1.77

in some empty Well anywhere
I drop...
from this shell
sweet feelings about being born into it,
a conservative estimate to my mineral contents worth,
a value decreasing with cellular age,
my name used in financial gains or losses by others of it.

...............................Signed, without my mention
patty m Sep 2015
My Mom could really whistle
It had a warning sound
I could hear it blocks away
and knew it meant homeward bound.

She'd bandage all my boo boo's
I was accident prone you see
but she was always patient
and took good care of me.

Mom had a psychic connection
before it was a fad
She knew everything bad I did
and threatened to tell my dad.

Mom was loving and tender as can be
she told me that she loved me when she had
to punish me
She said it hurt her more than it was hurting me.
Well maybe so but at the time,
that wasn't easy to see.

I remember her demeanor when I told a lie
and that it made her mad and sad
and even made her cry.
Ashamed I promised I'd be good
from that day till my end
if only she'd forgive me
and be my mom and friend.

I remember now the fun we shared
how she laughed, and how much she cared.
I wish I could tell her so, because
Mom was better than any action hero
you might have seen,
she could look completely ferocious
and wow, you should have heard her scream.

She was a conglomeration of
feisty, sweet and bad
and gave us a run for our money
sometimes irking dad.  

But I wouldn't have wished for
another mother, she was perfect
and I want you all to know
that's why I renamed her title
and she became MOMBO.
September Roses May 2018
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Ive had a few people wonder.
Its limbo
Path Humble Jun 2018
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or his amazement, disguise...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
s Dec 2017
when you ask me if I'm bored
of listening to your awful stories,
I wonder what boredom means to me
and why I'm grateful for mundanity.

you colour my life in every tone of grey -
in a nourishing, poetic, underrated way.
grey - the soul of every colour in the world;
invisible and aligned - right between extremes -
like all things well designed ought to be.

or maybe because grey
feels like routine,
and you’re the everyday
that's to come and that has been.

you're where I set my bar for normal;
you're my Sunday night pyjama informal.

You’re my common sense, and my reality check,
my perspective lens, my goodnight peck.
and even your grim phone voice
and plotless stories on sleepless nights
are part of the palette  I've come to adore,
painting magic in monochrome.
Ilunga Mutombo Dec 2018
Deeper cuts show signs of a broken heart
Suicide the signature for hearts torn apart
those who can’t speak
are slaves to their insecurity
Silent and muted by depression and anxiety
In love with the thought of being free
Searching for ways to put an end to life
Running away from their problems
While diving into a pool full of their own blood

Silence takes lives
So speak!!
Chicken Mar 4
Hey don't cross the creep line,
Buddy,

That's seven questions too many.

One compliment too much,
Wow,

Watch the energy fold up in my crotch, deploying the missile defence system, that you thought no woman
could ever have.
The line, or fence [boundary], is there for a reason.

The ‘wow’ is the point where the male misses polite signals given by the female, yet still ignores, proceeds with his inappropriate verbal attempts at coming over the other side of that fence.

Stay back buddy, this chicken is armed with mastery n you are stupified by your own standards.
Frank Discussion Jul 2018
She
Rides around the supermarket -
Got her head on tight.
She
Rides around the supermarket -
Got to flow.
She
Steals glances with a gun and
Runs away.
She
Steals children with a gun, so
Start to pray.

The
Final bells are signalling
**** to pay.
The
Final bells are heralding
The judgement day.

I am broken waters and made of scabs.

I'm a broken down drink of water, laced with scabs.
s Jun 2018
your hug is like
that blood pressure gauge
- that slowly inflates
to check all my vitals;
or a dash charging socket
for all my circuits & bones
- twenty minutes -
for the battery to be whole.

cupping my feet on cold days,
and breathing into my toes
because these socks  have too many holes.
And on any day, you swivel me up
when I run into you for a no reason hug.

starting to forget how it would feel
to not have access to these tiny luxuries.

-
Mary Gay Kearns Oct 2018
In purple checked dresses we are confronted
Behind a piano sits ‘Miss Creak’ head of house
She has one bad eye, unfixable from childhood
But plays beautifully perched on an oakwood
And fabric stool. This is our secondary school.

On the wall above the piano is a framed print
‘Madonna of the Meadows’ by the artist Bellini
I pushed a drawing of a couple intertwining
Under ‘her’ door knowing she never would have
But a boy may have felt affection for ‘that’ affliction.

Here we all ate meals, did fashion shows and sang
I was glad my dress was purple not orange or red
Went better with my blue eyes and blonde hair
The rest of the school diveded into coloured checks
To represent Shakespearean female characters.

Just opened in Wandsworth a new comprehensive
Serving all abilities, behaviours and nationalities
Cordelia, Beatrice, Juliet, Katharine,
Portia, Rosalind, Olivia, Viola a rather unsuitable
Vision for such an uptake of adolescent froth.

Miss Creak was, kindly, I wish I had always been.
Based on my own life and true.Mary
Did anyone know the school.
you need to check your front
is not on backwards
getting caught grinning
is no laughing matter
remember
in it to win it
less is coming last
be the index not the epilogue
when it comes to chapters after
or its time to close the book
Vera Jul 2018
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.
—V.H.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
Rox90 Feb 23
clouds fill up my head
time for reality to end
time for me to dance with my lover
time for me to isolate what bothers
time for me to be the star
time for me to get far
time for me to make mountains move
time for me to cure mental wounds
time for me to navigate into my fantasy
time for me to live in my own reality
King Panda Feb 2016
threads of salt
drowned land
and sea
brisk on the shore
to the vine
of the tree
not fruit
not sweet
but
check beauty
check redolent
check dog named after
and sea urchin-robbed

the steps taken
through the pink
the sunken ships
the little women
with big hair
the jewelry that
weighed them down
to drown
drown
drown

the flower
floats like
a headstone
from the hand of
a daughter
to the mouth of
the sea
where God still
reigns
with a crooked shaft
and a helmet
long struck
by the sky

pink

the ocean loses its way
through the flowers
thorns and
all
Naomi Sa'Rai Feb 2
I hate you!
From the look in your eyes
To the bitter sweet words you choke out
I hate you and everything you're about
The way your hands caress my frame
Leaning in close to whisper my name
I hate that I can never...NEVER love you again
How I thought we would last a lifetime
An eternity
I hate how now you've decided that can never be
I hate you and all that you've done to me
Bewitched my mind with thoughts of you
Cursed my soul with your witches brew
I hate that I love you more now than I use to
When I dream at night it's never a dream come true
I hate that I hate myself more than I hate you....

You hate me
As I hate you
For all of the things that you put me through
I gave heart
Soul
***
Mind to you
You ******* me literally
Slapped me
Played with my blue
My blue that rained for only you
I spread my wings just to be cut by you
You drink me deeply
Swallowed me whole
Played with my intellect
Straight ******* my soul
Yet you hate me
That cant be true
Just last night
I received all of you
You came into my intellect
Seized my soul
******* my mental
Made me your  own
You say you love me
But that's not true
I hate you more
Bout time you knew
My flowers yours
your horn I've already blew
You hate me
But i hate you too
Where do we go from here
Is what I ask of you

Naomi Sa'Rai & Nova St.Paul
Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
Yenson Feb 23
MEMO

FROM:  Mr Phil Indifrence,  Strategy Chess Insurgency  Corps.
Space Headquarters, Castleview Avenue, Dunstable XY10

TO:  Ms Petal  Dontrun,  Crimson Chess Federation.
De la Wigan Headquarters, Wigan, United Kingdom,  SM00

Dear Ms Dontrun,

Please accept my greetings. I write to clarify my stance on our
outstanding matters and hopefully to deter further speculation,
gossips, rumours, distortions, misinformation and sensationalism by the media.

As you are aware I contacted you on the day as arranged only to
be confronted with a response that was astoundingly unethical, un-
professional, rude, inconsiderate and totally uncalled-for. It was
so below expected standard that it raised doubt about your suit-
ability to be seen as a matured adult much less an intelligent being.

Still in the reverberations of this seismic occurrence I called again in
the hope it was a momentary loss of composure and yet again I was
subjected to a deluxe version of the first onslaught. To say I was
flabbergasted is putting things mildly, most especially as it was
totally unwarranted and underserved. It was obvious you lacked
any sense of decorum and had become an affront to common human decency and an embarrassment to your status.

In all fairness you did call some weeks later, but it had become
apparent that the ethos, protocol and cordiality that my Organi-
sation works within may not be relevant to your Organisation,
hence my unavailability to your contact.

I write to primarily reiterate that my position on this matter and
the present status quo is not based on some immature Ego play,
stubbornness, power-play or pride, rather it's in all truthfulness it's a belief in upholding standards in ethical considerations. I do not believe that bad manners, ill-considered behaviour, ill-judgement and a lack of sensitivity and good grace are matured and progressive trends to interact cooperatively within.

In conclusion, this is my stance on this matter and I hope it helps
your understanding. I believe a formal Apology from you and your
Organisation is appropriate in this regard and will instigate a
return to cordiality between our Organisation.

If you however feel this is unnecessary I will respect your decision
and the situation will remain unresolved.

I thank you for your attention.

Regards,

Phil Indifrence. C.E.O.
Sara Kellie Dec 2017
******* barking and let me in,
Check the form,
I wreak of sin,
Where's your Master,
the man in red,
Tell him I'm here,
I'm finally dead,

Those ******* people and their lies,
so full of ****,
I do despise,
I couldn't take it anymore.
My body, I've left it on the floor,
Well, what's left is no good,
It's all covered in blood
and how do I feel?
I feel ******* good!

They smiled at my eyes
and lied to my ears,
They think I don't know,
I've known it for years,
I wrote them a note
and sealed it away,
That note is still here
to this very day.

****** poetry by
Kaydee.
8 years on and that note is still here. Along with other truths that will live on long after I'm gone.
Written with a specific purpose. To accompany the envelope titled
'Dear Voyeurs, Part 8
Anon Jan 15
Some people,
Unknown to the people around them,
Isolate themselves from the world.
Causing them to have so many thoughts,
Ideas they can't control
Decisions running through their head.
Eventually, they decide it's easier to just, end it.
Not everyone is as happy as they seem
Smoke Scribe Aug 2018
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a  floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability

imagine that

where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain

imagine that

the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be

imagine that

a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free

imagine that

and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed

imagine that

you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret

I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when

we imagine that

for this how new healthy cells  are born

quiet-now,  go, imagine-that, now
if you recognize yourself within, it is no accident!
thank u all for the love and appreciation. one writes many poems in many disguises, so it is hard to believe  that an 8 month old poem, sent to you for safekeeping, is shortly thereafter barely recalled.
and then is rebirthed, and wouldn’t change a word...
imagine that!
Valentine's  Day,
Wife was away,
Partied all night,
Morning, head was light.
Didn't know what took place,
Until month later came face to face,
With a blond girl,
Her words crashed my world,
With my child she was pregnant,
To marry her it was important,
Tension!
So I took action,
I had medical check up and DNA test,
Doctor told me to relax and smiled his best,
Test showed I could never be a father,
More tension, more bother,
I had three kids at home,
They called me daddy and my wife mum.
Tension!Tension!Tension,
If not mine, whose creation?
15/2/2019.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2
Trailblazer learner auf all that may be
spoken, the awar...

wind sound wound clocks
wind down...
Not Spelchek, her viral redit kids
infect us, no, they never run down,
they invest us as
Flavius Josephus invested his story
as Rome invested Jerusalem

the true histerical history
approach leads to riddle liddle
kurioish timerish

triptrap thingys,

witty inventions. Who imagined these?

Take A. I.
AI or Al or ah,

beware beveraware
the missin' aitches an' gees andees.

it sets the tone. light
hearted

may be
it's a trick, you never saw, but

we've been here, you and I,
dear reader imaginin' in me

---
every word written on the internet
is now in the blind's kindest voice
choice award since the very
beginning of robotic

readers, like you, dear spelchek,
refugee from Tolstoryer's

idle word pile,
though ye be.May your children rule as
flexibly as thee.
gitem whenthey hot.
Begot Intentions can impurify
Unsolicited Charity does attempt
Even much as a Pickled Song can try
Bites back at you; And bills you for Contempt
What now the Rage of Imperial Process
Punishes the Dreader to stock and refill?
Nowadays you stick to perform your Best
Later on you sit by the Window-Sill
Still, check this Stubborn Loyalty in me
Then decide if Ignorance you forgot
My Words mean Truth; Even if Force-Believe
Just to show your Radio, the Model-Lot.
Still Deaf, eh? Even when the Snake has cast,
Flashing films on such scales you know will pass.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Begging you, Sterling Mentor of the Card
Patient and Calm are your Methods in-check
May I take this Learner to Living afar
Bespoke my Efforts and Services are met
For if I noticed this Lack-of-Command
Married to sane Verbs I try to absorb
Even out of Bounty; Trust be at Hand
To remember such Stubbled Skills I bore
This is an Artist-on-High. That which speaks
With Curried Words much tempting to forget
At expense of Duty is no longer meek
And my Salt's Wager now easy to forget.
Bear me Calm. I can adopt to re-learn
The Blue Eagle's shriek which can eat the Worm.
laura Mar 2018
feeling kind of fruity
touch your skin up and down
kind of silly funny
breathing waving fanning
panting pajamas on the floor
*** and then talking about pokemon
and programming all at the same time
what a helluva time to keep the tumor
of existence lowkey

scooping blood instead of depression
out of my heart whenever i check
why im feeling so giddy
Tammy M Darby Sep 2018
They are checking their list and checking it twice
Making a note whose leaning left or right
The CIA is coming to town.

They know when your cheating on your taxes
Checking Facebook they know when your awake
When your smoking Humboldt ****
Or chatting online with the Russians
So knock off for goodness sake

With hidden accounts offshore
Track and keep score
They know exactly who you are voting for
The CIA is coming to town.

OOOOOOOOOO you better watch out
You better not shout
You better be good
Check under the hood ( boooom)
The CIA is coming to tooooooooooooown

Dont panic........ its Political Satire folks

@ copyright Tammy M Darby Sept. 6, 2018
Next page