"clawed" poems - Hello Poetry

"clawed" poems

My feet Are so far away From my head. I think that they are The most fortunate Piece of my body. Rarely are they Punctured Or stabbed. Clawed Or sliced. They even try To hold me up When I'm too dizzy, Depleted to think. To bad I hate them, For they are still A part of me.

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Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC

My feet Are so far away From my head. I think that they are The most fortunate Piece of my body. Rarely are they Punctured Or stabbed. Clawed Or sliced. They even try To hold me up When I'm too dizzy, Depleted to think. To bad I hate them, For they are still A part of me.

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i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.

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Sep 13, 2018

Sep 13, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC

digressions on polarity

i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.

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The puppy sat by the door. Near dying to go out. Crying an abysmal wail As if a naughty child. Pawed and clawed the kitchen door. No-one heard the honey pup. Everyone was out. Owner running late for work. Neglected to let her run. However could she forget. It got to six a clock at night. No-body came. The tension built up. Fluid build up. Exploded sweet pup. (metaphorically of course) Owner came home. Just couldn't be cross. Cleaned up the muddle-some puddle. Gave her puppy a hug. Smiled to herself. Said to puppy how sorry she was. Cautionary tale acquired from here. No matter how ever late you ever may be. Put your cute puppy out to *** By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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Sep 29, 2013

Sep 29, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC

The puppy sat by the door. Near dying to go out. Crying an abysmal wail As if a naughty child. Pawed and clawed the kitchen door. No-one heard the honey pup. Everyone was out. Owner running late for work. Neglected to let her run. However could she forget. It got to six a clock at night. No-body came. The tension built up. Fluid build up. Exploded sweet pup. (metaphorically of course) Owner came home. Just couldn't be cross. Cleaned up the muddle-some puddle. Gave her puppy a hug. Smiled to herself. Said to puppy how sorry she was. Cautionary tale acquired from here. No matter how ever late you ever may be. Put your cute puppy out to *** By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white. He decided it glared much too whitely. He decided to attack it and defeat it. He got his strength up flush and in full glitter. He clawed and fluffed his rage up. He aimed his beak direct at the sun's centre. He laughed himself to the centre of himself And attacked. At his battle cry trees grew suddenly old, Shadows flattened. But the sun brightened— It brightened, and Crow returned charred black. He opened his mouth but what came out was charred black. "Up there," he managed, "Where white is black and black is white, I won."

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10k

When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white. He decided it glared much too whitely. He decided to attack it and defeat it. He got his strength up flush and in full glitter. He clawed and fluffed his rage up. He aimed his beak direct at the sun's centre. He laughed himself to the centre of himself And attacked. At his battle cry trees grew suddenly old, Shadows flattened. But the sun brightened— It brightened, and Crow returned charred black. He opened his mouth but what came out was charred black. "Up there," he managed, "Where white is black and black is white, I won."

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One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age. She recovered. She forgot and proceeded. One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage. She clawed her way out of the spiral. One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved. One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again. She was suffocated yet high. One thread was singed by **** She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present. She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.

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Jan 7, 2019

Jan 7, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC

One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age. She recovered. She forgot and proceeded. One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage. She clawed her way out of the spiral. One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved. One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again. She was suffocated yet high. One thread was singed by **** She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present. She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.

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Life is colourful But not in the way I'd like, Its shades keep changing From lemon to blue to burgundy, Feels like I'm living In a constant state of melancholy. Tried hard not to stare At the melody that kept swirling In front of my eyes And through my ears, Sometimes I forgot breathing. And it trapped me into the deep Clawed hard to come up from beneath, But it was hard to hold on The walls were too steep. Never thought I'd wish For a colourless life of black and white, Of boring creatures and ordinary sight.. Never thought I'd be the one To want my seeds to sow, To want my roots to dig deep and grow. Maybe flowing with the wind Is not for me, Free-falling is not the same as flying, Peter should leave me alone now, I don't want to end up dying. Thought I almost saw Heaven from where I was, But it lay barren With no gates or guards, Or even angels or gods, Either the books or my mind are lying, It is overrated to wish for dying. But I made it through Somehow I swam back ashore, Fought the muddied waters that blinded me, Somehow I found my door. And to sanity I return, With lessons and scars that still burn It's good to look ahead with clarity, It's good to be back to reality.

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Jul 6, 2017

Jul 6, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC

Life is colourful But not in the way I'd like, Its shades keep changing From lemon to blue to burgundy, Feels like I'm living In a constant state of melancholy. Tried hard not to stare At the melody that kept swirling In front of my eyes And through my ears, Sometimes I forgot breathing. And it trapped me into the deep Clawed hard to come up from beneath, But it was hard to hold on The walls were too steep. Never thought I'd wish For a colourless life of black and white, Of boring creatures and ordinary sight.. Never thought I'd be the one To want my seeds to sow, To want my roots to dig deep and grow. Maybe flowing with the wind Is not for me, Free-falling is not the same as flying, Peter should leave me alone now, I don't want to end up dying. Thought I almost saw Heaven from where I was, But it lay barren With no gates or guards, Or even angels or gods, Either the books or my mind are lying, It is overrated to wish for dying. But I made it through Somehow I swam back ashore, Fought the muddied waters that blinded me, Somehow I found my door. And to sanity I return, With lessons and scars that still burn It's good to look ahead with clarity, It's good to be back to reality.

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She gnawed at his flesh She clawed at his skin To fulfill her filthy sin Violence And rage All this displayed All of her hate He wore on his face And in the evening After the bleeding Pass the bruising Red marks He’d sniff and snuffle His body would crumble With all of the despair in his heart He was told to remember As his will was dismembered And his spirits were crushed to the ground This was all your own doing Even though she was stewing No fault of hers will ever be found

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Dec 16, 2014

Dec 16, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC

She gnawed at his flesh She clawed at his skin To fulfill her filthy sin Violence And rage All this displayed All of her hate He wore on his face And in the evening After the bleeding Pass the bruising Red marks He’d sniff and snuffle His body would crumble With all of the despair in his heart He was told to remember As his will was dismembered And his spirits were crushed to the ground This was all your own doing Even though she was stewing No fault of hers will ever be found

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THERE is a wolf in me ... fangs pointed for tearing gashes ... a red tongue for raw meat ... and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fox in me ... a silver-gray fox ... I sniff and guess ... I pick things out of the wind and air ... I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers ... I circle and loop and double-cross. There is a hog in me ... a snout and a belly ... a machinery for eating and grunting ... a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun-I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fish in me ... I know I came from saltblue water-gates ... I scurried with shoals of herring ... I blew waterspouts with porpoises ... before land was ... before the water went down ... before Noah ... before the first chapter of Genesis. There is a baboon in me ... clambering-clawed ... dog-faced ... yawping a galoot's hunger ... hairy under the armpits ... here are the hawk-eyed hankering men ... here are the blond and blue-eyed women ... here they hide curled asleep waiting ... ready to snarl and **** ... ready to sing and give milk ... waiting-I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so. There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird ... and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want ... and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes-And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness. O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart-and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where-For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and **** and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

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THERE is a wolf in me ... fangs pointed for tearing gashes ... a red tongue for raw meat ... and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fox in me ... a silver-gray fox ... I sniff and guess ... I pick things out of the wind and air ... I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers ... I circle and loop and double-cross. There is a hog in me ... a snout and a belly ... a machinery for eating and grunting ... a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun-I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fish in me ... I know I came from saltblue water-gates ... I scurried with shoals of herring ... I blew waterspouts with porpoises ... before land was ... before the water went down ... before Noah ... before the first chapter of Genesis. There is a baboon in me ... clambering-clawed ... dog-faced ... yawping a galoot's hunger ... hairy under the armpits ... here are the hawk-eyed hankering men ... here are the blond and blue-eyed women ... here they hide curled asleep waiting ... ready to snarl and **** ... ready to sing and give milk ... waiting-I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so. There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird ... and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want ... and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes-And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness. O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart-and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where-For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and **** and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

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The jaguar of your tongue Slithers and stalks to desolate locations Unburdened by the guilt of temptations Burning deep in the gullet of desires Forsaken by the drawings of cave paintings Clawed ragged breath discipline Polaroid flawlessness beneath the Blood Moon One wild summer

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Mar 10, 2012

Mar 10, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC

TonguesOfOthers

The jaguar of your tongue Slithers and stalks to desolate locations Unburdened by the guilt of temptations Burning deep in the gullet of desires Forsaken by the drawings of cave paintings Clawed ragged breath discipline Polaroid flawlessness beneath the Blood Moon One wild summer

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Clayton How I know you Paternal parenting DNA infused Carbon contribution, to my physique Father In everything My skin, eyes toes, Unfortunately; inside my mouth Spitting plaster-walled Copy-paste personality The same Intimately Close-dangerously Different Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love Something that didn't work out Photocopy Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh Reminder of her Mom Enough! Teeter tottering Tip-Toe tangling opinion Excuses Words fermented Rotting-rigor I know you. Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas Bearing pronged poker Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion Suppressing supplement thought ******** God's love the good life Living a life to be proud of Excuse me! For not being as I am "supposed" to be Eatting rancid lies Your reality relative To kiss-ass preferred siblings Who like the taste of **** What you shovel Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man Letting cracked-cackled toothed Field Gap-smile Decide your next move I know you I see what you push into hidden corners The bias, nasty film of your character Under whitecollar shirttails Citizen, Patriot Americas American I know you Your oppression Not new As underhanded and seedy as it was And still is I know you As much as I'd like not too.

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Oct 1, 2012

Oct 1, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC

Clayton How I know you Paternal parenting DNA infused Carbon contribution, to my physique Father In everything My skin, eyes toes, Unfortunately; inside my mouth Spitting plaster-walled Copy-paste personality The same Intimately Close-dangerously Different Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love Something that didn't work out Photocopy Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh Reminder of her Mom Enough! Teeter tottering Tip-Toe tangling opinion Excuses Words fermented Rotting-rigor I know you. Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas Bearing pronged poker Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion Suppressing supplement thought ******** God's love the good life Living a life to be proud of Excuse me! For not being as I am "supposed" to be Eatting rancid lies Your reality relative To kiss-ass preferred siblings Who like the taste of **** What you shovel Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man Letting cracked-cackled toothed Field Gap-smile Decide your next move I know you I see what you push into hidden corners The bias, nasty film of your character Under whitecollar shirttails Citizen, Patriot Americas American I know you Your oppression Not new As underhanded and seedy as it was And still is I know you As much as I'd like not too.

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You-will-not-lie, -bed-chambers-long, For I, -am-coming-to-get, YOU! Clawed-through-the-dirt, -up-the-roots, I am here, -come-to-get, YOU! Followed-tree-roots, -that-sweet-smelling-Earth! Here now! -It's time-to-forget-YOUTH. *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!* * *Grab-you-and-cover-those-murmuring-cries. Drag-you-away, I have got, YOU! Hungry-I, watering-mouth-glistening-eyes! Bundle-of-joy, I have got, YOU! Jump-down-tunnel-for-you-are-my-prize. Look-at-you-now, my-sweet-tasty-meat-PIE! *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!* Addendum: The name appears to be an amalgamation etymologically of roots from Greek, Sanskrit and Sumerian. If, of course, you choose to translate it that way. I assume Plato to be an authority on the Ancient Greek's tendency to combine the words of multiple mythologies sharing similar characters linguistically. The purpose of the hyphenation is to suggest the tempo and speed of the rhyme's cadence. Kalikantzaroi 'The Demon's of Earth'

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Jun 19, 2018

Jun 19, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC

david-john-mowers

You-will-not-lie, -bed-chambers-long, For I, -am-coming-to-get, YOU! Clawed-through-the-dirt, -up-the-roots, I am here, -come-to-get, YOU! Followed-tree-roots, -that-sweet-smelling-Earth! Here now! -It's time-to-forget-YOUTH. *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!* * *Grab-you-and-cover-those-murmuring-cries. Drag-you-away, I have got, YOU! Hungry-I, watering-mouth-glistening-eyes! Bundle-of-joy, I have got, YOU! Jump-down-tunnel-for-you-are-my-prize. Look-at-you-now, my-sweet-tasty-meat-PIE! *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!* Addendum: The name appears to be an amalgamation etymologically of roots from Greek, Sanskrit and Sumerian. If, of course, you choose to translate it that way. I assume Plato to be an authority on the Ancient Greek's tendency to combine the words of multiple mythologies sharing similar characters linguistically. The purpose of the hyphenation is to suggest the tempo and speed of the rhyme's cadence. Kalikantzaroi 'The Demon's of Earth'

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[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare] Have pity ! show no pity ! Those eyes that send such shivers Into my brain and spine : oh let them Flame like the ancient city Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers When men let angels fret them ! Yea ! let the south wind blow, And the Turkish banner advance, And the word go out : No quarter ! But I shall hod thee -so ! While the boys and maidens dance About the shambles of slaughter ! I know thee who thou art, The inmost fiend that curlest Thy vampire tounge about Earth's corybantic heart, Hell's warrior that whirlest The darts of horror and doubt ! Thou knowest me who I am The inmost soul and saviour Of man ; what hieroglyph Of the dragon and the lamb Shall thou and I engrave here On Time's inscandescable cliff ? Look ! in the plished granite, Black as thy cartouche is with sins, I read the searing sentence That blasts the eyes that scan it : **** and SET be TWINS." A fico for repentance ! Ay ! O Son of my mother That snarled and clawed in her womb As now we rave in our rapture, I know thee, I love thee, brother ! Incestuous males that consumes The light and the life that we capture. Starve thou the soul of the world, Brother, as I the body ! Shall we not glut our lust On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled To a hell of jesus and shoddy, Dung and ethics and dust ? Thou as I art Fate. Coe then, conquer and kiss me ! Come ! what hinders? Believe me : This is the thought we await. The mark is fair ; can you miss me ? See, how subtly I writhe ! Strange runes and unknown sigils I trace in the trance that thrills us. Death ! how lithe, how blithe Are these male incestuous vigils ! Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us ! Wherefore I solemnly affirm This twofold Oneness at the term. Asar on Asi did beget Horus twin brother unto Set. Now Set and Horus kiss, to call The Soul of the Unnatural Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain Lets the Beyond be born again. This weird is of the tongue of Khem, The Conjuration used of them. Whoso shall speak it, let him die, His bowels rotting inwardly, Save he uncover and caress The God that lighteth his liesse.

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6k

Aleister Crowley

[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare] Have pity ! show no pity ! Those eyes that send such shivers Into my brain and spine : oh let them Flame like the ancient city Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers When men let angels fret them ! Yea ! let the south wind blow, And the Turkish banner advance, And the word go out : No quarter ! But I shall hod thee -so ! While the boys and maidens dance About the shambles of slaughter ! I know thee who thou art, The inmost fiend that curlest Thy vampire tounge about Earth's corybantic heart, Hell's warrior that whirlest The darts of horror and doubt ! Thou knowest me who I am The inmost soul and saviour Of man ; what hieroglyph Of the dragon and the lamb Shall thou and I engrave here On Time's inscandescable cliff ? Look ! in the plished granite, Black as thy cartouche is with sins, I read the searing sentence That blasts the eyes that scan it : **** and SET be TWINS." A fico for repentance ! Ay ! O Son of my mother That snarled and clawed in her womb As now we rave in our rapture, I know thee, I love thee, brother ! Incestuous males that consumes The light and the life that we capture. Starve thou the soul of the world, Brother, as I the body ! Shall we not glut our lust On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled To a hell of jesus and shoddy, Dung and ethics and dust ? Thou as I art Fate. Coe then, conquer and kiss me ! Come ! what hinders? Believe me : This is the thought we await. The mark is fair ; can you miss me ? See, how subtly I writhe ! Strange runes and unknown sigils I trace in the trance that thrills us. Death ! how lithe, how blithe Are these male incestuous vigils ! Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us ! Wherefore I solemnly affirm This twofold Oneness at the term. Asar on Asi did beget Horus twin brother unto Set. Now Set and Horus kiss, to call The Soul of the Unnatural Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain Lets the Beyond be born again. This weird is of the tongue of Khem, The Conjuration used of them. Whoso shall speak it, let him die, His bowels rotting inwardly, Save he uncover and caress The God that lighteth his liesse.

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Sometimes I wonder how I managed to hide all this pain within my heart. That had screamed and banged at the door of my heart, begging for freedom. Sometimes I wonder how I was able to hide this sorrow. That had clawed and scratched the wall of my heart ever since. Sometimes I wonder, how I could afford to carve a smile on this soulless face. That needs a thousand men’s effort to make it happen.

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Oct 6, 2013

Oct 6, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC

Sometimes I wonder how I managed to hide all this pain within my heart. That had screamed and banged at the door of my heart, begging for freedom. Sometimes I wonder how I was able to hide this sorrow. That had clawed and scratched the wall of my heart ever since. Sometimes I wonder, how I could afford to carve a smile on this soulless face. That needs a thousand men’s effort to make it happen.

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I'm grinding and the dirt I'm grinding and the dirt I'm grinding and the dirt And I don't understand? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. please help me, *"The clawed hand is not for shaking, although it has amazing grip."* -zₑᵤₛ *"Eat a pork shoulder dusted in granite powder... dash of cumen, a salty pinch you'll get over it."* -ᴾᵉˡᵒᵖˢ "He is a porky one isn't she?" -ᴱʳᶦˢ Betty, uh, Ms. Page, didn't it bother you? "Bother me?" Well you know, being a person of God, -doing those things for money? *"Silly, I do what I do BECAUSE I AM a believer!"* -ᴮᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴾᵃᵍᵉ

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC

david-john-mowers

I'm grinding and the dirt I'm grinding and the dirt I'm grinding and the dirt And I don't understand? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. please help me, *"The clawed hand is not for shaking, although it has amazing grip."* -zₑᵤₛ *"Eat a pork shoulder dusted in granite powder... dash of cumen, a salty pinch you'll get over it."* -ᴾᵉˡᵒᵖˢ "He is a porky one isn't she?" -ᴱʳᶦˢ Betty, uh, Ms. Page, didn't it bother you? "Bother me?" Well you know, being a person of God, -doing those things for money? *"Silly, I do what I do BECAUSE I AM a believer!"* -ᴮᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴾᵃᵍᵉ

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Have you ever been angry? So angry you've scared yourself. Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within. An immense depth fast approaching. So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes. Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble. Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out. Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel. Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching. This beast was once kept sealed. Who gave it this key to destruction. This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy. Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy. Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity. Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc. I sent my armies. I sent them all. Countless deaths and yet I sent more. Quick slaughter - not the painless type. This beast they could not stall. Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn. Festering flesh flying from fallen. Axe, Sword and Mace soaked, dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate. Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses. What do I do? It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn. I can feel the hate changing me. Quickly now or I'll soon deform.

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Mar 17, 2015

Mar 17, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC

jack-thompson1991

Nurturing the Beast

Have you ever been angry? So angry you've scared yourself. Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within. An immense depth fast approaching. So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes. Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble. Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out. Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel. Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching. This beast was once kept sealed. Who gave it this key to destruction. This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy. Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy. Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity. Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc. I sent my armies. I sent them all. Countless deaths and yet I sent more. Quick slaughter - not the painless type. This beast they could not stall. Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn. Festering flesh flying from fallen. Axe, Sword and Mace soaked, dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate. Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses. What do I do? It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn. I can feel the hate changing me. Quickly now or I'll soon deform.

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By day she wooes me, soft, exceeding fair: But all night as the moon so changeth she; Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy, And subtle serpents gliding in her hair. By day she wooes me to the outer air, Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety: But through the night, a beast she grins at me, A very monster void of love and prayer. By day she stands a lie: by night she stands, In all the naked horror of the truth, With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands. Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell My soul to her, give her my life and youth, Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

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5.3k

Christina Rossetti

By day she wooes me, soft, exceeding fair: But all night as the moon so changeth she; Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy, And subtle serpents gliding in her hair. By day she wooes me to the outer air, Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety: But through the night, a beast she grins at me, A very monster void of love and prayer. By day she stands a lie: by night she stands, In all the naked horror of the truth, With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands. Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell My soul to her, give her my life and youth, Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

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My body is the training ground for All of the reject demons My inner demons failed to qualify as the right sort of fight To match with any worthwhile struggles so My inner demons are over dramatic children They do not wage wars They throw tantrums They stand inside my temples and pound the walls When they do not get what they want And shriek ringing into my ears until they turn blue Then fall asleep when they get tired Forgetting that they were supposed to be upset My inner demons are pretentious They call themselves demons When they are more like imps They tickle at anxiety with the nerve to call it an attack And separate velcro and seams with the audacity to say that They broke something Then press on my heart Daring to call it an ache My inner demons are clumsy They walk with their toes curling around my eyelashes And slip and spill their handfuls of tears At inopportune moments As I tremble due to the ones That have tripped and tangled themselves In my heartstrings and vocal cords Causing me to grasp my rib cage in desperate attempts to reach them And tear apart the inconveniences My inner demons are shy They sway in my veins to the rhythmic pulse With clawed hands outstretched to the blue walled sky Cautious to never leave a scratch through my skin They dance on nerve endings and muscle tissue With footwork just gentle enough to not summon bruises And hold themselves still against my capillaries As if their presence might distract my blood from Its daily circulation My inner demons are hoarders They over-stuff the filing cabinets in my brain With reports and analysis of too many situations And pick up old emotions and hide them in the recesses Of each ventricle and aorta Creating pseudo-space for newer, stranger, replicas Then pack extra breaths into my lungs Storing "just in case" inhalations and overused sighs They insulate their homes with extra calories and extra clothes Hiding until they can forget themselves My inner demons are moody They like to stitch up new wounds with the thorns of roses And pry open old ones with feathers They tie my tongue with pages of foreign textbooks They tie my tongue in gauze and cotton They tie my tongue with other tongues And pins and needles and teeth and drawstrings They are self depreciating and they know that they Are not worthy of their title My inner demons are pathetic I suppose they're right where they belong

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May 10, 2014

May 10, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC

theatreceilings

My body is the training ground for All of the reject demons My inner demons failed to qualify as the right sort of fight To match with any worthwhile struggles so My inner demons are over dramatic children They do not wage wars They throw tantrums They stand inside my temples and pound the walls When they do not get what they want And shriek ringing into my ears until they turn blue Then fall asleep when they get tired Forgetting that they were supposed to be upset My inner demons are pretentious They call themselves demons When they are more like imps They tickle at anxiety with the nerve to call it an attack And separate velcro and seams with the audacity to say that They broke something Then press on my heart Daring to call it an ache My inner demons are clumsy They walk with their toes curling around my eyelashes And slip and spill their handfuls of tears At inopportune moments As I tremble due to the ones That have tripped and tangled themselves In my heartstrings and vocal cords Causing me to grasp my rib cage in desperate attempts to reach them And tear apart the inconveniences My inner demons are shy They sway in my veins to the rhythmic pulse With clawed hands outstretched to the blue walled sky Cautious to never leave a scratch through my skin They dance on nerve endings and muscle tissue With footwork just gentle enough to not summon bruises And hold themselves still against my capillaries As if their presence might distract my blood from Its daily circulation My inner demons are hoarders They over-stuff the filing cabinets in my brain With reports and analysis of too many situations And pick up old emotions and hide them in the recesses Of each ventricle and aorta Creating pseudo-space for newer, stranger, replicas Then pack extra breaths into my lungs Storing "just in case" inhalations and overused sighs They insulate their homes with extra calories and extra clothes Hiding until they can forget themselves My inner demons are moody They like to stitch up new wounds with the thorns of roses And pry open old ones with feathers They tie my tongue with pages of foreign textbooks They tie my tongue in gauze and cotton They tie my tongue with other tongues And pins and needles and teeth and drawstrings They are self depreciating and they know that they Are not worthy of their title My inner demons are pathetic I suppose they're right where they belong

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Dusk! With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! Bats! Glowing red eyes and glistening fangs, These unspeakable giant bugs drop into view.* Fibrous wings furred like a moth, Big ears are just a membranous extension of antennae. Flying in search of a flower’s pollen laden froth, Silent except for the hum and squeak of echolocation. Trap bats in attics, butterflies in nets. No rabies feared, no bedbug bites to itch. Clawed feet ****** and grab like praying mantis pincers; Bloated stomach slopes like a pudgy beetle. Jaws manipulate like an ant, excise like scissors; Soft hair rustles like a wooly caterpillar. They live in darkness, centipedes do too, Come out at night like cockroaches tend to. Skittering through the night like daddy long-legs, Noses snubbed like bumble bee faces. Wind turbines endanger bats, Like fans endanger lightning bugs. Only one percent of bats are vampiric, Like only a small percentage of spiders are poisonous. Dawn! With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! Bats! Bats are bugs, aren’t they?

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May 4, 2010

May 4, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC

grace-gwendolyn-henry

Bats Aren’t Bugs!

Dusk! With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! Bats! Glowing red eyes and glistening fangs, These unspeakable giant bugs drop into view.* Fibrous wings furred like a moth, Big ears are just a membranous extension of antennae. Flying in search of a flower’s pollen laden froth, Silent except for the hum and squeak of echolocation. Trap bats in attics, butterflies in nets. No rabies feared, no bedbug bites to itch. Clawed feet ****** and grab like praying mantis pincers; Bloated stomach slopes like a pudgy beetle. Jaws manipulate like an ant, excise like scissors; Soft hair rustles like a wooly caterpillar. They live in darkness, centipedes do too, Come out at night like cockroaches tend to. Skittering through the night like daddy long-legs, Noses snubbed like bumble bee faces. Wind turbines endanger bats, Like fans endanger lightning bugs. Only one percent of bats are vampiric, Like only a small percentage of spiders are poisonous. Dawn! With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! Bats! Bats are bugs, aren’t they?

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229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near The Burdock’s Den— A Bog—affronts my shoe— What else have Bogs—to do— The only Trade they know— The splashing Men! Ah, pity—then! ’Tis Minnows can despise! The Elephant’s—calm eyes Look further on!

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4.7k

Emily Dickinson

A Burdock—clawed my Gown

229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near The Burdock’s Den— A Bog—affronts my shoe— What else have Bogs—to do— The only Trade they know— The splashing Men! Ah, pity—then! ’Tis Minnows can despise! The Elephant’s—calm eyes Look further on!

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today i tried to catch a feather that was drifting in the wind so fine, so light, so delicate and grey as hell. i clawed at it in a bid to catch the poor thing yet the more i tried, the further away it flew. i questioned myself over why i wanted to catch it in my hand, and i realised i desperately needed something tangible to hold on to. something; anything. anything that i could pin all my hopes and dreams on. i was too forceful in keeping you close to me, to let you be the pivot of my existence. yet the feather finally taught me today, that i should let you go, and let you drift with the wind and let it bring you where you will eventually stay. maybe you will find a heart that will be your home one day. until judgement day: drift, soar, fly!

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Jun 30, 2015

Jun 30, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC

drifting feather

today i tried to catch a feather that was drifting in the wind so fine, so light, so delicate and grey as hell. i clawed at it in a bid to catch the poor thing yet the more i tried, the further away it flew. i questioned myself over why i wanted to catch it in my hand, and i realised i desperately needed something tangible to hold on to. something; anything. anything that i could pin all my hopes and dreams on. i was too forceful in keeping you close to me, to let you be the pivot of my existence. yet the feather finally taught me today, that i should let you go, and let you drift with the wind and let it bring you where you will eventually stay. maybe you will find a heart that will be your home one day. until judgement day: drift, soar, fly!

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My mother's tears bend my spine. Her weigh bends the wood that has made me strong like a tree in a storm. The water from her tear helps my feet sink roots into the ground, only to hope it keep us from washing away. Her heave breath, pump air into mine with a pray that it will keep us both alive. Her scared hand had clawed their way up from hell so that I will be one step closer to heaven when I take over the fight. Because with my brother youthful eye watch our mothers sob, I know this fight can longer belong to her. Therefore I pick up her broke shield and bent blade. I straighten my wooden spine over the weight of those that watch. Willing to become an unbreaking oak to keep my beloved safe. Ready to fight as a warrior in the world war that is life.

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Apr 17, 2019

Apr 17, 2019 at 6:56 AM UTC

Arya_Nigtshade42

Take up the fight

My mother's tears bend my spine. Her weigh bends the wood that has made me strong like a tree in a storm. The water from her tear helps my feet sink roots into the ground, only to hope it keep us from washing away. Her heave breath, pump air into mine with a pray that it will keep us both alive. Her scared hand had clawed their way up from hell so that I will be one step closer to heaven when I take over the fight. Because with my brother youthful eye watch our mothers sob, I know this fight can longer belong to her. Therefore I pick up her broke shield and bent blade. I straighten my wooden spine over the weight of those that watch. Willing to become an unbreaking oak to keep my beloved safe. Ready to fight as a warrior in the world war that is life.

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Through so many years I ran Afraid and ever cowering The darkness always at my back Voracious, all-devouring Through my mind its black claws reached And picked apart my sanity They scraped all chance of joy away With endless inhumanity Through the days and months and years it chased and clawed relentlessly Eventually I wondered why I ran unending breathlessly Through the dark I turned and looked Pursuit suspended nervously I granted it a name and face It glared with vicious fervency Through its threat I held my gaze And ventured forth an inquiry Its flare of rage could not repress My newfound curiosity Through the long nights we conversed Debating, chatting, bickering The darkness that devoured my life Shrank back, diminished, flickering Through the darkness I now saw With unexpected clarity We spoke as friends, no longer foes Embracing newfound parity Through the dark I look, and laugh My friend now laughs along with me Despite how it had always seemed The darkness is a part of me

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Nov 29, 2014

Nov 29, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC

Through the Darkness

Through so many years I ran Afraid and ever cowering The darkness always at my back Voracious, all-devouring Through my mind its black claws reached And picked apart my sanity They scraped all chance of joy away With endless inhumanity Through the days and months and years it chased and clawed relentlessly Eventually I wondered why I ran unending breathlessly Through the dark I turned and looked Pursuit suspended nervously I granted it a name and face It glared with vicious fervency Through its threat I held my gaze And ventured forth an inquiry Its flare of rage could not repress My newfound curiosity Through the long nights we conversed Debating, chatting, bickering The darkness that devoured my life Shrank back, diminished, flickering Through the darkness I now saw With unexpected clarity We spoke as friends, no longer foes Embracing newfound parity Through the dark I look, and laugh My friend now laughs along with me Despite how it had always seemed The darkness is a part of me

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There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself -- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also. They are my medium. The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights. A grey wall now, clawed and ****** Is there no way out of the mind? Steps at my back spiral into a well. There are no trees or birds in this world, There is only sourness. This red wall winces continually: A red fist, opening and closing, Two grey, papery bags -- This is what i am made of, this, and a terror Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pieties. On a black wall, unidentifiable birds Swivel their heads and cry. There is no talk of immorality amoun these! Cold blanks approach us: They move in a hurry.

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4.2k

There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself -- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also. They are my medium. The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights. A grey wall now, clawed and ****** Is there no way out of the mind? Steps at my back spiral into a well. There are no trees or birds in this world, There is only sourness. This red wall winces continually: A red fist, opening and closing, Two grey, papery bags -- This is what i am made of, this, and a terror Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pieties. On a black wall, unidentifiable birds Swivel their heads and cry. There is no talk of immorality amoun these! Cold blanks approach us: They move in a hurry.

Continue reading...

I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...

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May 23, 2019

May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC

slept with my rapacious pen (she, full on conjugation)

I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...

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world-weary, we sipped coffee, one black, one milk and sugar brewed tentatively by hearts not quite unbroken in an effort to mend the damage. As usual you are fluent and fluid in words my tongue could not replicate, You are a waterfall when I am a drought. One day, maybe you'll speak to me, you say. One day maybe I could tell you, I held earthquakes and landslides in my bones and clawed my way above the mud and debris to breathe again. I emerged the sun of my own universe and I am afraid to ever let that go.

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Aug 7, 2018

Aug 7, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC

Coffee and the sun I made.

world-weary, we sipped coffee, one black, one milk and sugar brewed tentatively by hearts not quite unbroken in an effort to mend the damage. As usual you are fluent and fluid in words my tongue could not replicate, You are a waterfall when I am a drought. One day, maybe you'll speak to me, you say. One day maybe I could tell you, I held earthquakes and landslides in my bones and clawed my way above the mud and debris to breathe again. I emerged the sun of my own universe and I am afraid to ever let that go.

Continue reading...