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Sahil Yadav Jan 2011
Rich People* are pouring  brandy in their glasses
as the winter freezes the ones from the lower classes
The lazy riches who do nothing are eating a lot
and the hardworking labourers are left to rot
The Greedy Sons of Man fight and die for money
collecting even a coin,like bees collect nectar for honey

Rich People are commiting crimes and moving free
as the poor are treated like dogs of low degree
Swanking their richness is their biggest pleasure
and the miseries of the poor are out any measure
The Money Hungry just want more of it all around
just like mud laden pigs roll in muddy ground

Rich People believe they are not bound to any rule
and the low classes are the ones who get fooled
Even the government listens to the Riches the most
and the others are burdened with rising costs
The Lettuce Frenzied are hoarding money in bank
just like dogs bury the bones in the lands

Rich People believe that they are of a superior race
and the low classes are the ones thrown into disgrace
Exploiting the poor is Rich People's favourite habit
and the others just watch,waiting for the same of it
The Money loving people can make the system bend
and why does this vicious beast of humanity has NO END ?
One of my first work, don't mind anything which shows that I am not experienced.A 15 year old can do much better,I think.
Michael John Jul 2018
i

i think why not to let
but proved the query set
a double somersault-twist
or kiss your sweet lips..

can  end in cold death-
still the birds in the trees
go cheep or not at all..
i have reason to not question..

ii

i have memories return from the crib
it is all just part of the aging process
we beetle by saying that can´t be right
the lights´ get bright and bright..!

birds talk to us but i don´t hear voices
we become preoccupied with prices..
i recall four blackjacks  a penny
dying has a long curious way..

i am pretty sure i am someone else
absolute and completely and yet
these early feelings as blithe pictures
remain constant..



iii


more work less ******* about
but creation is just living
some absolute and indistinct
(it is tough being a poet..)..

iv

lily says,for it is her,
you don´t play no more,
only i say in mind
the years don´t lie
content´ s fragile store..
repetition dulls the brightest
core..eventually a silent purr ask´ s why
not why not..

v

why write poetry says lily
because it is a futile act
of achieving something perfectly..
we like that..


or like stubbing one´ s little toe
a rabbit from a dream hat
in a vain effort to retain what
remains of my memory..

lily why not or why bother..
lily red diamond from her
eyes sparking like a star is
just a ******* star baby..

she half nelson bottle wine
why do anything..a sign
a metaphor an hieroglyph
love and hate lily..

or the little bird in the agaves
i would like to shoot that one
hate and love lily
porquoi-pas..

vi

i read o twenty years before actually commiting to paper
not much but i knew the stuff i loved and kept there
i know it was charles bukowski i loved his funky gear
thank you norwegion liz for lending me his books dear..

ham on rye and factotum you say don´t lose them mf
i swore i would not lose them i would not lose them kf
kind friend..but i lost them i lost them..df..
dumb ******..


i leant them to someone that swore the same
they suffered an horrendous head..crang..
on and the books lost the books got lost..
there was scant satisfaction in plaster form..

maybe they went to a happy home
so not my fault that his drunk poems
god is he fun liz i hear your laugh then
such a wild sound ..generous so!

you said i should write and thank you
only human to encourage me true
and always a good drinking companion
you bought decent wine..

i adored cognac o..that was my poison
you always attracted van gelis errant tounge
unpleasant but one had to watch him..
that was his fun..

and then backgammon
goes a bit faint then..
i would like to say i won
you told me roland was cheating..

i think it was fun to play him anyway
esspicially on cement truck day..
not that he ever bought me a drink
not that i liked cement..

i lived with roland actually
this stopped any conversation
i met him by accident in eilat
that place was a laugh..

i think i enjoyed the second time
first loads of day jobs though i
played in the streets..and living with
the russians..

that a blast lily..my immediate neighbor
we never spoke..and the police pulled his hair
and yet not a squeak..a match box of grass cheap
i went to silently get a light..

he did say never run boy..
i thought alright for you
alright,
who was playing late night
in the soft quiet night..

so i was nosy
within the deepest hush
a glass and bottle jungle
impossible this silence

and i could hear him swallow
once the army ran through
i was tucked up in bead reading
by hopeless candle light..

i met roland in the peace cafe
a misnomer if ever there was
he picked me up and tossed me
around..

hey mike we got ****** and under
the landing planes roaring down
aint had hash like that in so many
years..

there was the red lion and at seven
free food and a drink and a movie
i read miguel cervantes..they
play the eye of the tiger later..

then the hard rock cafe with killer
egg and chips
i worked with an architect and made
a few shekals.

vii

i got out of there man i went south
dhab a quiet hut and goats..
that is the life right there..
o the corral beauties..

the stars as glimpsed through the palm..
pretty carpet and soften-songs of balm
brain blown and fly blown
and then back to town..

which came as a shock then
i had a drink and a very nice mention
for the cafe at the bus station..
i salut the the patience of the librarians..
Jowlough Oct 2010
Do not flaunt your jewels
on a friday night,
killer eyes are everywhere,
waiting for their flight

When I say jewels,
you know what I mean,
There are no exceptions,
on bright human brains.

Do not give chance,
Not even a glance.
for the mystic mind strikes,
hidden and in advance.

Just a piece of advice,
My dearest friend,
Do not be surprised,
nor be bent

for your religous pal,
is one of them,
Commiting a crime,
Behind his eye stem

Taking advantage,
of every opportunity,
he's  so inclined,
on the opposite of chastity

Just a reminder,
I know you know me.
don't flaunt your jewels,
Because it's not for free
(c) Oct 14 2010 - jcjuatco _ Do not flaunt your jewels*
It's 4:00 a.m. in the morning
what the **** am I doing awake
I can't escape what I can't escape
the nightmares inside my head

I hear the ******* *******
it's the same ******* thing as before
telling me how worthless I am
cringing in the living room floor

I try to think positive
but the darkness has its ******* claws on me
negativity bringing me down, so ******* down
and there isn't a ******* thing I can be

I look at the time
two hours have gone by
lost in these racing thoughts I'm having
and suicide is looking pretty good

I just want the pain to end
why is it haunting me?
I feel no life, just dead inside
nothing ******* precious I can see
just a miserable ******* human being

It's just a waste of my ******* time
to be on this earth any much longer
I constantly think of a way to commit suicide
and leave this ******* earth and everyone in it behind
Macy Opsima Jun 2016
I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink but I still continue to write despite the broken lines because that's what I'm made for in the first place. Maybe the reason why I get hurt so much is that I fall in love with words a lot. I'm in love with people who is in love with literature. These poems and letters may not be made for you or because of you but their main purpose of being written is to move you. I want you to do something about that girl who works in your favorite book shop because I don't want you commiting the same regrets as I did. I want you to raise your voice and write about the oppression or the wage gap. I want you to write about something from the deepest part of your chest. I want you to write about something I cannot write about.

But some days, I feel nothing. I could write about being in love and about the color of their eyes but nowadays, their eyes look exactly the same. I could write about sadness but sadness itself is what hinders me to grab a pen. Now, I could write about happiness. But I rarely feel this way and when I feel this way, ******* I feel this way. I could gather these words about being filled with the color yellow but happiness will say that those words are not enough to fathom the euphoria I feel in me. Maybe one day, I could explore enough dictionaries to find the perfect words on what I have to say.

You don't have to be the greatest writer there is to make someone feel something through your words. Write about everything, every emotion, and every person who finds their way to your heart. When you can't write anymore, get outside and get your heart broken. Go outside and experience an experience that you never thought you would experience. Soon enough, you will write the words you never thought you would ever write. Don't hold anything other than offensive and oppressive thoughts back. Let the poetry run through your veins and drip down your fingertips. Write, write, and write until you can't write anymore. When you can't write anymore, seek a perhaps to write about then write, write, and write until you can't anymore. Even when the poem is below my satisfaction, I continue to share it anyway because being stoic and still would lead me to madness.

I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink and even though my lines are broken and unappealing, I continue to write anyway and because that is what I am made for in the first place.
David Nelson Jun 2010
Is there a reason

is there an aisle, for the pile, for just a while
a box, that holds rocks, and room for my socks
  a clamp, to put on my cramp, hold my stamp
   a day, when I can say, it's gone my way
    an eye, made for a fly, without a sty
     a flag, or a paper bag, to cover the drag queen  
      a goat, that you know will float, without a boat
       a house, for my mouse, a lacy blouse
        an imagination, for a nation, needing salvation
         a jeepers, without a creepers, and no peepers
          a kite, that flies alnight, until it's right
           a lesson, learned from confesson, without guessin
            a mole, in every hole, who likes rock and roll
           a nerd, who looks like a bird, that's what I heard
          an oil, our waters will boil, you've ruined the soil  
           a potion, or a lotion, that enhances the motion
          a queen, whos really keen, on old James Dean
         a reason, for commiting treason, in any season  
        a space, in this place, to put my face
       a time, to do my rhyme, is it a crime
      an Ull, unknown to Krull, whose blade is dull  
     a vacuum, in every room, or just a broom
    a way, to ever say, you need not pray
   a Xe, to strong for me, a trace I see
  a yak, the color black, behind my back
a zama, in Alabama, Phi Slamma Jamma

Gomer LePoet...
Joseph Childress Sep 2010
I have
A faulty brain
You have to excuse me
They use me
For tests
Studying
The schematics
Of a pscycopathic
Nonbeliever
WIll bring light
To the mysteries of
The dark mind

They say
You will never understand me
And I urge you
To never try
I am
A firm believer
In the absurd
And I vow
To never to stray
NOW MOVE!!
Before I let loose
With words to subdue
You're mind subtly
Then suddenly
I fascinate!
Until you indulge
Into this state
Of unknowing
Knowledge
Evil as the apple
Eve picked from
The tree
Sweet treat
Would you also
Like a bite to eat?

I am
The imperfect creation
Made perfectly
For your consumption
Others may slump in
Depression
Then
It's do and die
Commiting
Philosophical suicide
With the extremists
Who would sacrifice
A child's life

For god's sake
Who made
A mess out of earth,
Snakes?
Who constructed
This absurd brain
To think this way
What hands formed
The mandible
Which speaks
Sinful opinions

The open-ended
Questions of life
Were reserved
For religion?
Tell me why
I
Can imagine a place
As evil as hell
But can't create
And wouldn't
If I could

Speak vile
But
My actions speak justice
Just as quick
As you claim
I'll lay in a lake of fire
I'll say
I have to stay
And never leave
This is the punishment
For saying
What I believe.
Sitting at this leather couch
spilling out my mind
as it drips upon the floor 
from every minute of my time wasted.
I'm wondering what you're thinking;
if it's me that's been crazy
for commiting this so-called crime
I'm jaded.
You're judging me pretending to respect me.
A folder thick with penmanship
You diagnose my intelligence
A steady flow of consciousness,
"I was sick of her *******!
I was sick of the relationship!"
It's just a subtle mood swing
And that **** was so controlling
I wanted out.
So you jot your ******* notes
And cross your sloppy T's,
But you won't get the best of me
You're pills are not my remedy.
I stand by my insanity
You can claim I'm unstable
You can claim I'm in denial,
As I choose to ******* leave,
Make sure you make note in your file!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
The proof of past times.
The warning of the lost minds.
Who is more sane?
The man in suit and briefcase in hand.
Or the man who's cup jingles all covered in rags.
One clone circuits through the track never to win the race he runs.
The wonderer thinks on greater things but he's the only one.
There is no soul within the clones.
There's only ever wants.
To be accepted, labeled normal.
The manufacture never stops.
The few and wise are weary.
They see the soulless dancers.
They understand that man's diseased.
The Earth's very own cancer.
It's funny how they think themselves to be as good as good can be.
Then **** the world around them.
If they have hearts, they do not beat.
They trample truth beneath their feet!
They give no hope to those who seek!
They say their strong but THEY ARE WEAK!
THEYRE ALL AFRAID TO BE UNIQUE!
AFRAID OF TRUTH AND HUMBLE LIFE!
THIS MASS IS COMMITING SUICIDE!
FOR THEIR OWN COMFORTS AND LUXURIES.
YOU ALL ADD TO THE DISEASE.
but i am only one small voice.
They cannot hear above the noise.
They are a selfish loathsome thing.
The clones converge into one being.
They have no mind to do whats right.
They follow wrong reject the light.
BUT I WILL YELL AND SCREAM AND FIGHT!
BECAUSE I HAVE NOT LOST MY SIGHT!
I FOLLOW GOD AND SOMEDAY SOON.
He'll loose his rage.
To all untrue.
YoungGentleman17 May 2014
Is it love and affection
Diamond and pearls
Or to be called the most beautiful girl in the world
What is it that ladies want
When we're good to them
Some say we're to weak
When we're bad
They always end up hurt
And I don't speak upon the woman beaters
We all know those guy's are jerks
But what is it that ladies want
For us to stop our cheating
For us to stop our lies
Cause there's nothing more painful hearing than a woman's cry

Admit it every guy should understand
That a ladies tear has the power to bring tears to a man
But what is it that ladies want
For us to open there doors when we go places
Maybe they want more attention from us
They may even want more conversation
More appreciation for the things they do
they might even want more ***
But I really need the anwsers before I move on to next
What is it that ladies want
I really wanna know
Because not knowing this
May allow a lot of danger to show

what is it that ladies want
for us to take care of you while you sick
hold your hands when we walk to places
hold the door for you as well
and hold you in our arms at times when you feel lifes a livig hell
you want us guys to tell you how much we love you
tell you how much we appreciate you
tell you how much you are important to us in this world
that world lady,girl,female,women,and woman it shows power
without yall we are nothing
must guys dont understand how much we need ladies in the world

so what is that ladies want
they want us to be there for them
they want us buy them gifts
to not cheat
or abuse
cause there's nothing more hurtful than a woman's broken heart
God himself created women for a reason
not for guys to dog them
or have *** with anyone he sees

so what is that ladies want
its all in the heart
i mean every guy should know
they just want a person who cares for them
i guarantee you if we love our women like an husband
protect them like an father
then this world wouldn't have so many ******
we wouldn't have so many women commiting suicide
i just want for every woman around the world to know
that somebody understands what you go through
somebody cares
and that somebody is me
I know a lot of guys out here like myself has wondered this
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
Nobody Knows McQueen

Why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows,

why,
do you have to lose the sanity,
to find,
the genius,

nobody knows,

why,
do the brightest lights,
cast,
the darkest shadows,

nobody knows,

can’t have the beach,
without the ocean and the sand,
can’t have bliss,
without the pain,

what a paradox we are,
us this Human Species,
all us actors just acting sans practice,
in deafening silence commiting acts of violence peacefully,

in this repulsively attractive romantically tragic,
dramatic sci-fi thriller comedic fantasy,
where we rarely do what we say,
even though we all say what we mean,

constantly on a conquest to find Plato’s Atlantis,
expressing ourselves through our art like Alexander McQueen,
which makes sense in a way since we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go,
and even though that may be so we still wear our hearts on our sleeves,

half peasant have emperor,
have invented have inventor,
half daughter/son half mother/father,
half created have creator,

only hope is that this sadness somehow leads to a happily ever after,

once gone,
only that odor lingers,
is it cologne or perfume,
no one knows or cares it’s 2018 it doesn’t matter,

nothing matters,
even though it feels like everything does,
or maybe everything matters,
and nothing feels like it does,

I don’t know,
and I don’t know if I care,
don’t have the answers,
and if I did I probably wouldn’t share,

or maybe I would,
and I’d do so through these words,
like a man stranded on an island with a universe full of knowledge,
sending these messages in these bottles as my parting gift to this world,

see we’re all on our way,
so have some fun before you go,
is there life after death,
maybe not maybe so nobody knows,

why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows…

∆ LaLux ∆
Cynthia Go Aug 2016
I’m memorizing every contours of your face,
Like a blind girl tracing her fingers on a braille,
I’m memorizing how your voice sounds
And how it tinkers when you laugh,
I’m commiting to memory every facet and feature of you
For I know our days won’t last
And I’m just that kind of girl
Who keeps on forgetting
her ex-lovers faces and names
So when that time comes
When our ways will part
I hope I’ll have enough memories of you
Tucked in my mind and my heart,
memories, I will never
unlearn.
Seven days straight with fat checks.
Burned backs, arms and necks.
Buying things they'll never use.
Commiting alcohol abuse.
Wifes they never see.
The biggest arrow in the knee.
All this money but never time.
So i guess a bud light with some lime.

i bet they dont respect me just an ounce.
But is just a month until i bounce.
Just a moon cycle then i jet.
There's just some things i'll never get.
I'll try my best but not enough.
These guys are two more words than tough.
Its not that im tired or even hurt.
But i've never sweated through shirt.

You see i've never had a dollar to my name.
So take a picture and buy a frame.
Could you ever leave your house?
And that girl with a pretty blouse?
All just to die broke and tired.
And risk it all before you get fired.
Then move from state to state.
Already knowing your cruel fate.

They do all this, and send it back.
Finish the job, only to pack.
And start again, to just replay.
Same old ****, a different day.
But what about them and all their dreams.
The world is messed up, or so it seems.
Or so it appears, what are your fears.
They've been doing this too many years.
And just to earn another dime.
Live and learn, thats why i rhyme.


Guys that just tied the knot.
Are they happy, maybe not.
And jody walking on your floor.
Honk your horn before you reach the door.
Who am i? i just work labor.
And got the job as a favor.
This life is new, to them is old.
Eyes on the money and the gold.
What about the first words they never heard.
Its kind of sad, really sad and absurd.

Or maybe not, im just some kid.
Who doesnt have his mouth under a lid.
Who doesnt understand their lives.
And all their struggles, all their strifes.
They didnt study, didnt learn.
So now they toil under this furnace burn
So stop and wonder who built that store.
Just a sun burned man, tired to his core.
Finn Cade-Lewis Dec 2013
You keep your heart away from me, you will not share.
I tell you secrets about me, but you just don't care.
I suspect the worst - that we are going to end in tears
and crash and burn. Yet I ignore my fears.

I watched you like a hawk and learnt your trick.
You lead me on but commiting just makes you sick.
I held you close for long enough, but I can't keep up the fight.
I've moved on.
There's a girl here in town who likes to share,
and she says she's free
tonight.
AJ Peace Mar 2015
What do you do when your life comes crashing down?
Everyone you loved is no longer around,
You try so hard but keep getting knocked back,
In the end you say "**** it" and hit on a bottle of Jack,
Nothing is going right in your life,
And you cry yourself to sleep at night,
The only thing that sounds appealing,
Is commiting suicide.

Don't give up,
Don't give up on life,
because some day,
Your life will go right.

Life is a rollercoaster,
It has it's highs and lows,
But it's no one elses decision,
But yours on which path you choose to go.
Sometimes we're right,
Sometimes we're wrong,
It doesn't mean you don't belong.

All the people we've loved and lost,
We pray for guidance from up above,
So before you go and grab that knife,
Think about it,
Don't waste your life.

Don't give up,
Don't give up on life,
Because some day,
Your life will go right.
David Nelson Jul 2010
Taking Chances

when we were young, full of vim and vigger
we could not wait, until we were bigger
few things frightened us, we were made out of steel
seeking excitement, we wanted to feel

short on brainpower, but strong blood and guts
we didn't care, if we were knocked on our butts
we'd get right back up, and try it again
from climbing a tree, to commiting a sin

now we are older, the chances more measured
simple things then, now are more treasured
being more careful, with much more to risk
keeping things hidden, on a backup hard disk

are we smarter now, or just a whole lot more boring
have we lost our zest, spending time hiding and snoring
afraid to take chances, throw our hearts in the ring
seeking out ways, to make our hearts sing

I don't want to die, having too many regrets
being so careful, simply hedgeing my bets
let them all snicker, and call me a fool
I want to live life, bending some of the rules

put on that parachute, take that big leap,
take some missed chances, before that last sleep
look that special friend, square in the eye
tell them I love you, let your heart fly  

Gomer LePoet...
Syddy Raye Dec 2014
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Theres kids cutting themselves
Toys being put on all the shelves
Were dealing with ISIS
But the holidays are priceless
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Theres people dealing with cancer
All we care about is Rudolf and Prancer
Theres teens commiting suicide
They should be kept warm and on the inside
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Al Quida taking the life of children
And were wondering when Santa's coming back again
Theres kids doing drugs
While were surrounded with hugs
Don't you know it's Christmas?
wehttam May 2014
I left for a few minuta
detail
wrote poetry all the way
to essex, my belle the enigma landing
and lost all of the words that proved
i was commiting treason.

and again I left for a minute
had no ideas what to write
i am the worlds first poet.
 Like great with a lower
case G.  

Any word, 7 or more languages
forward or backward.
prodigy, prosody, prodisy or is it odeseyus
he fell down flat on his back
wanting to know who c. reeves tucked in
before the C4 explosion.  

and I Cobak can tell you that
WE are here, in the Star Wars book
bith bounty hunting earthworms for fish hooks.
i write all day seas less lee.  
as praetorian Helmet.  

wehttam

I love our web page.  Just keep writing.  We will never read all of the poets.
Poetic Eagle Sep 2016
There is a moment when you feel all is gone
All hope is lost
That moment when you feel abandoned and rejected
The same moment when you feel life being taken out of you
That crazy moment when you feel like commiting suicide
The very moment when you feel your heart bleeding in silent tears
The moment when you feel so in the dark
That moment is simply LIFE
Life is PAIN
Inspired by a late friend
Gavin Barnard Aug 2015
When I checked the box that read yes
Right next to it,
I didn't know what I was commiting to.
I just didn't want to be rude.

But a couple of years later,
All I can do is wish I said sorry
For never loving you in our five months,
And for saying "eat **** and die,"
Just something a child like me
Heard off a video game
I played way too much.

Now, I just think you're beautiful.
But I'd have to cross an ocean
To say what I want to say.
I know it would be worth the effort,
But I'm terrified of unknown land.
Things never work out like they do in my head.

Everytime I see you, I stare but avoid you.
I want to say I'm sorry for making you cry.
I never hated you, but as every day goes by,
I like you more than ever before.

I'm not asking for a second chance,
Its far beyond my imagination.
I'm just writing this to say I'm sorry for everything
And in hopes that you'd read this poem,
Whether I give it to you on paper,
Blue in the face and in my terrible handwriting,
Or that you'd stumble upon it on my poetry page.

Night after night I can't sleep
For a childish thing I did years ago.
Everything has changed now
And I'm not even sure if you even remember,
But I know thats the only thing I ever regretted,
And that I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart.
We dated for five months, and I was only twelve. I never once loved her during then, but now thats changed, and I feel absolutely horrible for doing this to her.
cg Nov 2015
Comfort in the
Thought of death.
Not death upon myself,
Or commiting a ******
But solely the thought
Of death.

We live an entire
life of wrongdoing
And good.
A life of obscurity
And abrupt openness.
We venture to abide
To the social norm.
We try so hard
In everything we do
And suddenly none
Of it mattered
And our entire worldly
Existence was worthless.
c.g.
Megan Sherman Jun 2017
Our hero of the earnest era of Romance,
Doth dream, dwell and dance in divine dalliance,
Commiting Heart to solidarity and alliance,
With the revolutionary atmosphere of France,
Optimism for change doth have him in trance,
A liftime took to perfect philosophic stance,
Meandering aimlessly cross Earth like child,
To apprehend the nature of the freebirds, the wild,
Rancorous, with passion riled,
Of Nature's Beauty most beguiled.

Counting the confederacy of poets as friends,
Towards brighter day they weave and wend,
Humankind's sublime destiny they dare not forfend,
So to revolution they duly lend,
Their timeless and rumbunctious pens,
To show the world through inspiring lens,
They're enamoured of its darkling dens,
Where inspiration from the ether sends,
Visions suffice to be immortalised,
In the poet's pithy cry.

Poet evokes the stirring herd,
Rebelling against tyrant's rule absurd,
Shaking off oppressive law,
Which the righteous mind does abhor,
Revolution befits a troubador,
Enamoured of freedom's wild old tour,
Transcribing her beauty in to lore,
Wsidom older than ancient war,
Wisdom that's the friends of sages,
Wisdom felt, not learned from pages.

Paying heed to impulse, feeling,
The troubador is a devotee of passion kneeling,
Feeling Love through their heart freewheeling,
A feeling which is most appealing,
With their verse they want to spread,
Their passion like a golden spindling thread,
Going soft with gentle treads,
Planting flowers in human heads,
Daisies with Love's light imbued,
Converting sunshine in to useful food.

Emigrating like the flower of the Jacaranda,
The fledgling Shelley lives to bloom and meander,
Defying the tyranny of propaganda,
That doth against the soul deceive and slander,
So towards a bright Eden he takes a gander,
Towards iridescent, bright, immortal hour
Where the mannacles of the mind,
Are crushed by Love, activity refined,
The spread of care duly kills,
The hate bore grim from tyrant's thrills.

The world becomes unite again, and not in the imperial way,
But in the way all souls are friends, and borders die and go away,
The world is a bright, clean canvas,
Ready to take a splash of art,
Coloured bright with the idea of heaven,
Imagined from hungry human hearts,
Lo, the death of illusions fake,
Like wealth, through which the devil spake,
Arise, ye children from your mistake,
Off your ******* like feathers shake.

Peace grows strength in every line,
In which a future free doth shine,
The path of righteousness aligned,
To hitherto deceived and corrupted minds,
In a dream of heaven they duly find,
A fate to which they want to be intertwined,
That of a human herd that wakes,
To be freed and liberated from its mistakes,
To die standing than live on their knees,
To take war to tyrants dictums and decrees.
Peter Kiggin Oct 2016
My friends embarrassing moment.
Some people's minds whirl around all the time to make things fine
It's getting stranger all the time
It's getting stranger all the time
I sat in a suit drinking some soup with a partner of mine
As if I would be commiting a sort of crime
If I wore jeans and a T'shirt with I am trying to be different written on it ;I hope you do not mind ;
I heard the manager call the police and they said" tell him he is walking a very thin line"
Now just leave and we will be sending you in the post the attire you should be wearing if you travel and want to sit and dine"
Patronised enough I looked in the mirror of the restaurant and realised I was naked all the time and the other people did'nt like to say but your ***** is in my eye line
I was a victim of a criminal that had stripped me of my identity I find
I did a few selfies with a bottle of plonk two waiters and some spaghetti some banana custard and a piece of ham then my friend came back from the toilet and we swiftly left as he whilst peeing spilled some over the bowl and was too embarrassed so felt nothing left but to incline to leave.
Best intentions
There are many rivers to cross, and I can't seem to find my way on.
I wander.
I am lost.
As I travel all alone.
Why am I alone?

Sometimes, i need to stop myself.
Stop myself from commiting, a dreadful crime.

Loneliness won't leave me alone!
What a trap!
See now i'm on my own.

Yes, they left me.
They didn't say why.
Now it's time to cry.

Many rivers
Many rivers
Many rivers
Many river long

Many river to cross
Many river to cross
Frankie Castro Sep 2017
As the pills
Sent those chills
I felt strange
I couldn't change
My body shivering
The pain delivering
Me closer now
I'm dying somehow
Blurry *** vision
Falling into submission
Slipping away again
Commiting a sin
All my rage
A pillbox cage
I can't explain
Yet I complain
How others are
Weak so far
Just let go
All I know
Shelf my hope
I can't cope
Honestly I apologize
My life I despise
The day has come
For me to go
I'll be gone
Before the snow

Life is a joke
I don't find funny
Maybe in heaven
Life will be sunny

But I ask myself
Is it even real
And if so
It's to good of a deal

I wasted my life
Commiting my crimes
Explained it all
In simple rhymes

Theres something that
You need to know
You won't agree
But its my time to go.
First poem in a long while. Feels good to write again.
© Zachary J Morsette 2014
I see you now,
You always go.
All I ask,
Continue to grow!

Of good and bad,
I’ve much to learn.
But there’s good in you,
This I know.

The molecules around,
When you speak,
Come together,
And start to glow.

You’re wondrous words,
Always well sewn.
It’s such a gift,
Your fabric flow.

I always laugh,
You always know.
I can’t hold back,
My cover’s blown.

You try so hard,
You’ve made it known.
You’ve come so far,
It’s so well toned!

This character
You’ve fought to make
For whom you’ve had
To give and take

And at times,
You’re bent to break!
But you hang out
And make fate wait.

Powering through,
Commiting choicely.
What’s old is new
When you’re rejoicing

Of gifts of life!
You see so many,
And when you present,
They’re never ending.

What once was mild,
You revitalize
And for old subjects,
I have new eyes.

Thank you.
I always know
Everything I do
Might be the dough

That you can take
And make more pizzas
For the whole world
To love and eat some!

Never stop
Sharing your gifts,
Don’t doubt your skill.
Don’t doubt your wit.

It’s always worth
A contribution
For conversations,
You’re evolution.

It’s not all good,
But I am biased.
So despite this
Treasured alliance,

I’ll confess to you,
I think you’re perfect.
Not flawless,
But the flaws are worth it.

For when your flaws
Meet your traits,
It’s such an awesome
Wondrous way.

Of good and bad,
I don’t know much.
But continue to grow!
And always love.
Mr Zeal Mar 2015
It's cold out here
The reaper in my ear say I know.
I see all my fears
Commiting suicide on the low.
My body feels like tears.
So It drips on life's cheeks cause the road I know...
Off to the new old tricks they perform.
Lighting the excitement but pushing the Realest out of door,
Most of the people won't help cause you know...it's cold out here.

Losing sight for the site losing hope but some don't mind.
Chasing copper and that frabric let's be perfect pay for plastic I look like Barbie but I'm breathing longer parts I hope in me she's gunna be satisfied...

What's next a heart of dirt and still live?
This ain't life so I pray for my kids that will live better in the new life the eternal gives.
Purple Rain Oct 2016
There I stood
Staring at my grave
Visualizing myself 6 feet under
My piercing screams
Echoing down the halls
Hitting doorways
trying to find away out
I drop to my knees
As if there is a loaded gun to my head
And I'm the one commiting the crime
But taking my own life instead
Cordelia Copson Feb 2015
i can't be the girl that runs away
and i can't be the girl that stays
both at the same time
this is not a simple matter of heads or tails and then commiting
******* commit me

i decided when i saw a girl poison herself
two years ago that i would get a train ticket
and cut my hair black and blue
and never try to poison out the darkness again
and i did it anyway, on you

my worst nightmare is becoming what i expect
and darling you held my ******* hand every step of the way
into oblivion and normalcy
god how am i not already nineteen and smoking 32 a day
******* nicotine stained fingers you lying peice of ****

and no i don't trust you anymore
and no, not that i ever did, but you should take it personal
this time, and you shouldn't have the first time
when you reeled back as though i had hit you
i should have ******* hit you

and so i'm running away
not to anything better mind, but because there's nothing.
nothing.
here to stay for
Akira Chinen Jul 2016
I went out looking for a drink
And a strange bed
To lose myself esteem
And rage
While commiting carnal sins
Between the legs
Of a pretty face
Painted over an empty skull
I went out searching
For the beast inside my marrow
Walking among the late night
Demons of decadence
Dancing to poisonous
Acts pretending to be love
But only wanting the salt
And skin of lust
I went out seeking to ******
My hearts truth and blood
To drown it within its own depth
Suffocate it on its own breath
To grind it down to nothing
But shame and guilt
And leave nothing but the stained
Bones of my hips exposed
I was drunk by noon
And couldn't pronunce her name
Or remember her face
I couldn't see her skull
But I could feel her tounge
Wrapped tightly between my legs
Her venom stiffening my flesh
Her throat coaxing the life
Out of my bones
And ******* the death
From my soul
I couldn't tell if
I was moaning
Or weeping
And she wasn't grinding the hours
In an effort to comfort or care
And she was more monster
Than human
Angel soft silk
Hiding devilish scents
And I gave myself to her roots
And her pain and her flower
And her evil
And her pleasure
Wanting to have my
Memory devoured
Trying to forget
Why I wanted
A drink
Poured by a pretty face
Into an empty skull
Full of poison
Mixed with murderous intent
To be forced
Down the throat
Of the dreams
Of my truth
To **** my blood
And my hope
But my heart
Would not
Drink
Would not let
This lie of poison flow
It pulsed against my rage
And my doubts
It beat madly
Wildly
For the fire
And flame
For the stars
Found in heaven
That sing
Only your name
His naked body thrown amid the papered floor.
Highlighted by the flood lights
His body amid a sea of the darkest night
Commiting emotion into broken phrases
He tries to communicate the best he can
It slides down the side of his chin
His fingers stained like a brush from the scratching
His hair and skin stained with last nights work
his legs bruised from the kicking
his lip swollen from fear
His body writhes violently with one final attempt
He tries to scream but theres no sound
Tears roll down his cheek and onto the paper
preservationman Oct 2016
It was a departure that could be from any city
There would be a thought with oh what a pity
Yet a destination that could be anywhere
But on this particular bus trip there is no arrival
It seems a there was a murderer on the Hound bus
A Moon that hung high in the clear night
Cruising on the highway despite
The only light on the highway was the bus Headlights
While the passengers were all asleep
One passenger was awake thinking deep
The murderer suddenly makes his move with everything to prove
Immediately, a Passenger was strangled to death being unable to breath, and any sounds
All this was happening while the others passengers were in a deep sleep and there was no thought of sheep
Suddenly, a passenger noticed the strangled passenger wasn’t moving nor breathing
One of the passengers alerted the Hound Bus Driver
The Driver pulled the bus to the side
However, the murderer was trying to look incident
Suspicion aboard
Oh Lord
The Bus Driver signaled the authorities
This was going to an investigation being top priority
Everyone aboard the bus was questioned
Yet the Murderer being the Strangler was still in the presence
But the investigation was heating up
The investigation was getting closer to the source
The Police quickly moved in being the force
There were all kinds of alibis of course
But the investigation continued on, and was intensed being strong
Everyone became a suspect to look upon
But there was a break in the case, and the strangler was pointed out
The surprise being a shout
The strangler had killed his wife two days ago prior
But the Strangler’s time had expired
He was on the Hound bus attempting to make his escape
But why escape on a bus, and you commited a crime again
The Strangler performed on can
Justice arrived with jail time in the Strangler commiting a sin.
wesley mcmillon Oct 2015
I'm sitting on the three blankets and pillow, I've been allotted to sleep on.
I'm listening to the song I always do for these mind cleansings
In the background, further still, my roommate talks to her friend; loudly, I might add.
I have a lot on my mind and no one to talk to.
I'm quiet here, anytime I speak I'm generally ignored.
For the most part that's fine.
My anxiety has been really bad as of late.
So has my nicotine addiction.
No matter what I say or do,
I can't pull myself out of this rut.
I've been going on walks
Two days ago, it was three or four miles
Yesterday it was five or six
Today, I walked at least six
I'm not really keeping track.
I'm not letting myself think.
I'm not allowed to.
"You're affecting everyone in the house."
I wonder if you thought about how much that hurt me.
I doubt it.
I'm not wallowing in self pity so much as emptying my head.
I quietly sit,
No one has similar interests as me.
I watch anime when I'm bored
Or sleep.
I think the epitome to how lonely I am here is the playing chess alone.
I haven't had an intelligent conversation
Well, since Ken and I discussed the black hole theories on time slowing and wormholes
A week ago.
I can't joke the way I do without hurting someone's feelings or being too obscene.
I'm lonely
Very lonely.
If this were a game of house,
I'd be the dog.
I want a job so I can move out.
So I can make friends.
I want to go hang out downtown with people who want to talk to me.
Who don't make me feel like **** for getting in my slumps.
I want to be around people who won't tell me that I'm not allowed to be negative
only to immediately counteract that with hypocrisy saying
"only were allowed to be negative."
I'm fluxing between three and four cigarettes a day.
I'm not allowed to wear my safety hat because it's negative
I'm not allowed to listen to "negative" music.
I have more rules here then I did living in my dad's basement.
"The grass is always greener"
Honestly, I knew it would be like this.
It's still better than being emotionally abused.
Well, romantically anyway.
I'm tired.
I'm tired.
Physically
Emotionally
Mentally
And I'm getting fed up.
Honestly,
the only thing that keeps me from commiting suicide right now is seeing an new city.
Not my friends
Just the sites
Everyone back home has forgotten me
Everyone here acts like I'm not.
I don't fit in anywhere.
I'm immersed in my reading, anime and poetry.
No one understands. I ******* hate being inside my head.
I ******* hate this.
I ******* hate me.
But I'll never say a word.
Because if I talk,
I'll be scolded for ******* feeling.

— The End —