"childs" poems
So let's talk about suicide
and how it could have taken me
and how it still might.
So let's talk about suicide
and how childs not yet old enough to wake their minds
try to end their lives as we just sit by.
So let's talk about suicide
and how tired old folks cut their time too short
because they have noone to love.
So let's talk about suicide
and how self-harm is cause of laugh
and how one day it goes too far.
So let's talk about suicide
and how I never thought I'd see myself
writing about my own.
So let's talk about suicide
let's talk about mine
my first try I threw my knife before the red shone in my eyes.
So let's talk about suicide
and how my second try I mixed *** Coke and bleach.
It tasted really bad, but I drank on.
So let's talk about suicide
and how I don't really want to **** myself anymore
but I guess there is something about me that makes me close to it anyway.
So let's talk about suicide
and how my last attempt will be at the bottom of the sea,
drunk with misery, drunk alone.
So let's talk about suicide
let's talk about it because it happens all around us
and talking is the best way not to break.
So I've talked enaugh, now it's your turn
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Some of you may know me,
Some of you may not.
You may have seen me across the street,
Sensual
And
Sleet.
Maybe you caught me in your mothers bedside draw,
*Or in the pockets of a local *****
We might already be acquainted,
We might be best friends,
I might be your
Means
To
An
End.
Give me a taste,
Be mine forever.
But don't try play it clever,
Don't be a predictable fool.
Maybe you think you're stronger.
If that be the case,
Then come a little closer,
Get a clearer view.
Those to make it out alive are few.
Let the paranoia manifest in your cells,
Let the shivers be like earthquakes in
your bones.
Let your agony pour out in moans.
Come on dear,
Let me
Take away your pain.
Let me
Be the blood in that vein.
Can't you tell?
I'm here to stay.
Come along,
Let us play.
But let it be known,
I am no one trick pony,
And this is no childs game.
This will end in shame.
Do you see the visions?
The never ending car collisions.
Do you feel the sweats?
Can't you see?
They're
All
Gifts
From
Me.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
*My dad broke my heart
Way before a guy had the chance to
*Kids who have holes in their souls
In the shape of their dad. And
If a father is unwilling or
Unable to fill that hole, it can
Leave a wound that is not
Easily healed
-Roland Warren
*71% of high school
Dropouts in the United States come
From fatherless homes
*A man ain't
**** if he's
No father
To his
Children
A fathers hurt
isn't the childs responsibility
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
*She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
Caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew
He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky*
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
***She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew
He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky***
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
shadows cast into clouds of sand as footprints leave their mark
voices so full of fun with not a care in this world
summer sun washed over by the crash of thunder
the sea shouting against the shells to your ears
blue whispery skies feed warmness to the skin
as weeks of a worklife pass to say goodbye
ice cream melted to cheeks as tissue lips from a nan
feed a childs cry
this is what we live for in a world so left behind
donuts sugared a thirst as sticky fingers lay ******
fish from an ocean battered or fried to the best ive ever noshed
sounds of the beach washed over me as grandads snores a snort ..
too much lunchtime pie i guess ..deserving resort
dreams of a past ...dreams of another
football played and dogs all wet scenes from a beach
alive still ...kids gone red
searing sizzles from a sun at its best as rounders run
or frisbee fetched
photo taken a collection booth ..memories made as dreams come true
dreams of a summer
dreams of a summer
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
One heart,
born in whole,
Free from all captivity.
Not a slave,
nor care,
Beating for one,
Myself.
Two hearts,
one of the other,
made to feed and grow.
Beating for me,
Mother.
Torn hearts, inseparable, separated.
Lost to the world,
by choice of deception.
The curse begins.
The seeking heart,
Beats for another.
One piece lost,
Destined to recover.
Absent of nurture,
Wicked, wicked,
Stepmother.
Repelled, repulsed, shamed.
Uprooted,
over and over again,
Homesick.
Adulthood,
weirdness and awkward.
With a childs desperate heart.
Hopelessly hopeful,
Helplessly lost.
Found love,
Beautiful love,
lasting love.
My lover,
Deception, infidelity,
Another piece lost.
The cycle continues.
The seeking heart,
Desperate to replace,
What was lost long ago.
Ten times over.
Realization, awakening, awareness.
This piece left,
Peace of heart,
Beats for one,
It's my own.
No longer captive,
Nor a seeking slave.
This last piece,
Freed for me.
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 10:47 AM UTC
Do we have any idea?
Have we even got a clue?
Can it be that we don't give a ****
what others are going through.
Are we so wrapped up in selfish mode?
So devoted to our own.
That we should sit back and watch
as others are gnawed down to the bone.
Should it be that our own offspring
if they were cast away so far?
Would we worry about that pipeline
bringing fuel to run our car?
Or would we stand aloft in horror
as they were thrown unto the ground?
Or for fuel thats cheap and plentiful,
is it ok to make no sound?
We hear about disasters.
Tsunami strikes upon Japan.
Earthquakes raging out in Haiti
Watch death befall our fellow man.
Throw donations in a bucket
at the supermarket doors,
then forget because of shopping.
but we have paid towards their cause.
Could you ever even fathom?
Your children crying as they play,
not for Barbies or Play-stations
but for the pain to go away.
Never asking for the latest
made by Hamleys or Mattel
rather just an handfull of food
to help beat the starvation battle.
Wash it down with poison water
from a river filled with ****
or collect in rusty tin cans
from a worn and stagnant pit.
If this was the plight of our children
things would surely be said.
We would try to move a mountain
rather than our young be dead.
Could you ever really imagine?
Could you ever really get,
that a million hits on You-Tube
turn endangered species into pets?
What if someone could ask on face-book
about your daughter or your son,
saying"It looks so cute and cuddly,
"go on e-bay and buy me one."
If only we could all be happy,
not feel a need to own the place.
If we could learn to be contented
by a childs smiling face.
Treat the world with awe and wonder.
Treat its creatures with respect.
Treat each other in this same way.
Treat nobody with neglect.
Then perhaps we may push together,
make our Governments do right.
Let's lead the World with people power,
no more starvation or blight.
Let's be less materialistic
let us have a life of worh
Not by owning all we see,
rather sharing this our earth.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
Technology:
how I love you and loathe you
in the same breath
your phonic ears
listening out for
a babble of distress
from a childs vest
sleeping soundly
in the next room
your ten tentacle arms
purge my words
and shelter emotions
across vast distances
for long lost friends
to find comfort
in 140 characters
your innovations
are the respirator
the breathing lungs
the beating heart
the bionic limbs
that help without want
to walk again
if only you could
just once
guess my words
correctly
just once
is all I ask
I invited that girl
for a pint
not a riot
and the black berry
ripens in the east
is now an improvised
IED
Technology:
will you ever be perfect?
or will you always
be evolving
how will you know
that you have not
stepped back
to be overshadowed
by an ape
punching numbers
searching for Shots
and finding Pints
in the middle of
a dusty Riot
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
I've been sedated and sold
bought by gypsy ways
my inhibitions have been stolen
by mundane sober days
I've been troubled and wandering
trying to find a place to lay
but the sleeping don't bring rest
so I found a place to play
shisha smoke fills my mouth
MDMA rolls hard
in the back of my eyes
and there's no feeling lonely
no hours to own me
no imperfections to hold me
in knowing no place as home
in my eyes
child fires
bright with delight
and hunger for more
my memory written down quickly
in thin white asp bite lines
crimes of the right mind
the creative souls borderlines
sweat rolls over my body
my arms find the sky
I can't see the ugliness
spying through childs eyes
with my hands
razor blade shakes
my poetry's written
one line at a time
and there's no feeling helpless
no reminders of distress
wandering free and careless
in knowing no place as home
in my eyes
child fires
bright with delight
and hunger for more
I hear music even in the hush
MDMA lusch, I crave life
with a violent crush
with two wide lines
and the life of one white pill
my life is filled
with more beauty than I can stand
until I can't even stand
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
***She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew
He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky***
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
I hope nobody trusts you again
like I did you
I pray you never hurt another person
like you did me
You carved into my soul
And have taken peices
They will never grow back
Dont ever say that you want to help
because you will just hurt again
you will destroy
and you will ******
This is the perfect story
for a broken heart
you made me feel good
and I just dont understand
how you killed me
I told you everything
and you continued to destroy what was left
and turned me into this
a grumpy
unwanted
suicidal being
Who you illusioned
believing all was good
while you tore me apart
and extracted my heart
I hope you never have somebody
like I thought I had in you
I hope you get what I got in you
because your time is due
you earned that
I hope nobody trusts you
because you will hurt them too
You will tell them what they need
and when its time for you to work
you will never be there
Give us that fake smile
the one that used to push the clouds away
but I know now
that the tornado is coming our way
you make things seem okay
seem liveable
just to gain your unholy power
Hurt is a childs dream
compared to this terror
I have lost all hope
you told me you will help
the only thing you helped
is to ****
Never talk to me again
I cannot bare your lies
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC
I wake up in the morning
And slip on a pair of boots
But I realise apart from this
I am naked
So I dress and undress and dress again
But now I’m wearing no boots
So I think and I dress again
But no I have no voice
So I undress and pace and dress
But now I am the opposite ***
Now a dog; a cat; a door
(this is all very complicated and confusing
Let me assure you that.)
So I try again
But these are childs clothes
Now there are no clothes
So I return to bed where I am ****
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
Pavement where
an egg shell should not be
that perfect shape
fractured with spider leg cracks
across the surface
of its world
how did they get there?
those Nazca Lines?
And the amount of discarded shoes seems to be multiplying each day,
the busted boot on the traffic island
its been there for weeks
a plimsoul
childs shoe
strangely,
they're all left footed
is there significance in this?
I look for patterns in everyday things,
TV Schedules
wallpaper
colouring books
Sudoku squares
floor tiles
Tube maps
football scores
I keep looking for clues
like a retired detective who just can't let go
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
*In a few years to come
A calendar is soon to end
The light of day will be suffocated by darkness
Haltering all brand new life
Bringing the Mother Ship to falter at the knees
A destined turmoil caused by catastrophic times
The hands of twisted fate are drawing near
World destruction nearing our footsteps
Along shadowy pathways of smoldering smoke
Billowing inward on plains of existence
Trampling atmospherical empires
Closing out realms of perseverance
Kharma may be ravishing in her ***** like ways
Childs Play in comparison to the putrid behavior of Mother Nature
Her promises of vengeful wrath
Unbearable to withstand her deceitful ways
Typhoons aiming to destroy harbouring lands
Earthquakes swallowing Kingdoms
Her ill fated disease blanketing valleys of bowling greens
The nightmare will embark upon us all
In the year 2012*
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
Don't mind me
I'll just be licking my lips
Being your translucent temptation
You wont see my attempts because baby, they aren't there for your eyes.
I know you like the view from the back,
But how about you learn to see things more clearly?
Open those eyes.
You liked to play games,
But I'm competitive.
You can see but you can't touch?
Childs play.
You can sense, but you can't see/feel/touch.
Maybe,
Just maybe in a blink of an eye you can taste...
But I'm gone.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
We miss the differences.
Not because we don't notice,
more because we become too accustomed to them.
We don't notice the nights getting darker till we feel the chill of Autumn.
We notice spring when the low morning sun blinds us, not when flowers bud.
We see our childs first steps, yet fail to notice a grandparents last.
It is as though the important things trade places with the essentials as life overwhelms us, we miss transitions as we age.
We so often don't see when someone who was simply **** becomes beautiful, when we should scream it out loud before love becomes lost.
What we once admired we often despise and yet have no measure of when one emotion became the other, it probably didn't have too, we missed the change.
We loose touch, make new friends, we age but also become younger in so many ways. Lovers hearts, our hearts have the ability to do that, if we notice, yet we seldom do until we loose a friend and the news hits us hard.
For we simply miss the differences.
We just get eroded by lifes daily chores, Work eat sleep repeat.
So step back and look at the differences.
Look at what you have or what it is you need or need to change before it's to late to say it.
But don't miss a moment of it wondering what if? Should I have or I wish I had. Because even if you're wrong, it's right.
Hug your kids, your parents too and show someone how you feel. Even if it's just with a warm smile or just being there. Or something daft
It may be the only smile they see today, or the difference in their life that keeps them going today.
I once bought a welshman a little dragon in an egg. He collected dragons. He was so excited by it, it was like he was a little child for a few minuites. That's how I will remember him. The child like smile. Those are the memories we make.
So be the difference not the differences. No matter how small, to someone it could be all
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
We have grown into fresh peaches,
Full blooming curves, rosy surfaces.
Each teeming with the desire
To be handled by a pair of hands.
So, tell me little peach,
How did it feel like to have your juice
Run down his throat?
We are no longer flower childs,
We are maidens, suddenly seated in front
Of the mirror, the ends of our hair
Carrying the weight of our youth.
Mornings, i sit with my knees
propped up like a temple and I pray
that love come as close as loneliness does.
(One night I tried to kiss my own arms
-a train track from elbows to wrists to fingers-
With the lights off. Was it my lips or arm that burned?
In the interlude of tears between my closed eyes
I wondered what it’ll be like
To have another claim me by the mouth
Like that.)
Even when I’m not in love
I’m more in love than you are
In love.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
The legend said that there was a boy in the mid 800 who begged everyday to the Sun God That his black eyes could be blue as sapphire. In Africa every person of the region had dark eyes, but he felt he wanted to have light blue eyes so someday he could go with the sky Gods and be their helper and trainee. The only requisite was to have blue or gray eyes; for them these two colors meant purity and identified the only ones who could meet them. Shmuel wanted it, but that meant he was going to go away from his house and live his family forever, because once you go and see a God you can’t return to Earth nor have contact with humans again. After years of begging to the sun, he accepted it, and turned his eyes blue as sapphire. The day he had to go was sad; all his community was in his house saying goodbye to him. Everyone since then called him “the child with the sapphires eyes”. He knew that earth and his family were history already. Before being introduced to the Gods Space he turned back his head once again and saluted with a smile all his community. Since then his mind was erased and a new Shmuel was created. Now he served these Gods, and as an apprentice he would turn to be like them in the future.
Elena Ramos
Short Fictional Story
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
Stay well beautiful childs
Of this night
Of this night forever
My fragile child of strung silver white hair
And that air echoes forever
My silver child of the endless shores
My angel child sing for me
Of dreams and angel things
Stand strong in the evening wind
Bend as though an angel in prayer
And sing for me of the endless
You know it's times like these my child
Where I could spit in the wind
That I could break the evening waves
That like a light in the dark I'm searching for a way to go on
For I've got a reason but she's a distance away
It's been years of searching
The decades echo on
And I'm still here with my long hair and gnarled skin
But it's amazing what a woman can do
So I search on for you
And I'll make her hair the silver streams
And her body the cradle of the valley
And the rising mountain sides
And her lips the sweetest kiss for you
I'll make her ***** so soft and warm
And her voice of angel's harmony
And I'll scratch on in the darkness
Black with my claws until I find her flaws
Even and smooth and her love here just for you
And if I find her flaws
I don't care it's a wide world
And her smile like the sun
Like the gates in the mountainside
And may her river flow and slake our thirst
And if I find her flaws
I'll smooth them over for you
May her crown shine as though the radiance in the sky
And I shall dance in her fires
And her eyes rejoice for we are her lovers
May her breast heave with joy for we are her ones
And if I find her flaws I'll smooth them over for you
And may her belly be deep and dire with the darkest lust for life
And love for me and you
And may her heart burst with love and stand true
As though the bend of that angel in prayer
And the song that sings on in the open air
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 3:33 AM UTC
I am hopeful now
Walking the seawall straightens me out
The clouds and the waters
One foot in front of the other
Walking the seawall
To my day to day
The choices I've made
One foot in front of the other
Dogs on leashes
Babies in strollers
Or on daddies in front
The seawall
Windy and peaceful
One foot in front of the other
Birds eat
Fresh crab meat
The circle of life
Tug of war
One foot in front of the other
Runners run.
Cyclists, bike
Childs play
The walk to work
One foot in front of the other
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
1966, my first school book review, aged 13.
**It's hard, to say the least when you are bashful
to give voice to all the words you wish to say
for when your restless feet beneath you start to shuffle
you know you'd rather take your chance and run away.
You have a premonition to be elsewhere
to a place they call 'the land of two left feet'
where self-confidence is ****** beyond redemption
where the introvert is king, and not dead-meat.
As the arms of doom draw near to embrace you
and the ground before you cracks and opens wide
tongues of flame curl around to engulf you...
in the scheme of things you're skinned, trussed and fried.
You take a sip of water and start choking
as a splash of liquid dribbles down your chin
then the teacher offers you a paper tissue
and patiently she smiles as you begin.
Breaking out into a sweat you feel self-conscious
as the collar of your shirt begins to shrink
then you twist and tie in knots that paper hanky
and wished you'd poured yourself a stiffer drink.
Though you fumble for the words, they're not forthcoming
as you pour yet one more glass from the carafe
and while a tongue that's tied in knots may be amusing
in a mouth that's parched you really should not laugh.
Amid a mixture of derision and ovation
with that sickly smile still plastered to your face
you waited for the hard word from the teacher
but she said 'sit down' and well done Howard Brace.
You prayed that you had never stirred that morning
and rolled your sleepy body out of bed...
of the precious weeks you failed to spend revising
for the Book-Review and the text you barely read.
... ... ...**
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 10:13 AM UTC
The butterfly and the bee pollinate,
the unknown flower of memory,
then fly off through the gaps,
of the spiders web into the blackness,
of the vast midnight of the mind.
Words shower down into a torrent,
that falls upon a bewildered numbness,
remaining incoherent, they flow on,
into the stream where perhaps a child,
will gather them and weave them into a melody.
Slowly the poet slides away, unnoticed,
into the mist of time and unconsciousness,
Hidden deep within the flower bed of memory.
an unknown flower not yet pollinated,
still waiting in the realm of the midnight darkness.
In the childs mind the sun shines brightly,
as she brushes the words she has taken,
from the stream of life, with the days light,
The poet breathes, renewed and alive.
so it is in the universal garden of life.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 3:17 AM UTC
Crystals of white for a childs first kiss
***** is temporary bliss
Eyes like lace and teeth like coals
Coughing up bruises and spitting out souls
Breaking waves that bury the sea
Swallowing down all its debris
Fingertips shivering up your spine
Caskets of pills and velvet devine
A mother with shaking hands
Only a whispering brutality understands
Seven for the morning
All to make life slightly more adorning
Pale skin and sleepless nights
Veins covered in cloth while the frost bites
Hollow bones and painless cries
Blood vessels knawing at her thighs
Embroidered pleas
A religion to throw you to your knees
Black lace and the codeine scene
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC