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If the Messiah they need is a woman
Convince them only men are holy.

If the Messiah they need is black
Convince them only white is holy

If the Messiah they need is same gender loving or non-binary
Convince them only heterosexual is holy

If the Messiah they need is proud
Convince them only humility is holy

If the Messiah they need holds knowledge in their left hand
Convince them the right hand is holy

If the Messiah they need has a ten point plan of righteously defending one's self
Convince them that the only holy answer is nonviolence.

If they ever one day happen to believe that they can define:
Self
By Self
Through Self
Of Self
Convince them that holiness is only attainable through a message and belief of:
Holy and selective Prosperity
Holy and selective Favoritism
Holy and selective
Elitism

If they ever happen to look in the mirror and one day love all that they see
Convince them that the holy standards of beauty deems every and all that makes them what they are ugly

If they ever happened to one day realize that the Messiah that they need is within all of them as a United People
Convince them that the holy Messiah can only lay in one person per generation and then publicly assassinate the person that they believe
Or you have chosen
To be their
Messiah.

© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Willow-Anne Mar 2014
Late at night is when I think
And try to I clear my head
I often stay awake all night
Just laying in my bed

As soon as I get comfy
Thoughts start racing in
I start to question everything
and regret my every sin

At first the thoughts are gentle
Like what will I do tomorrow
But as time crawls by; they escalate
Till I'm drowning in my sorrow

I think of all my failures
Every detail of what I did wrong
After hours of reliving pain
I convince myself I don't belong

I suddenly feel isolated
and like the silence will never end
I feel like I will never escape
There's too much I just can't mend

I feel overpowered and worthless
Like I'll never do anything right
I hide till the world fades away
And I'm awoken by the light

I realize a new day has come
It's time to put on a brave face
I put those negative thoughts away
Until I return to this place
Jellyfish Jun 2012
I dreamt that I'd tell you,
  I dreamt I'd convince you.
I dreamt you would love me
and I too would love you.
I dreamt of perfection,
a dream so romantic.
I dreamt you would smile
and carefully panic.
I dreamt you would hug me.
  I dreamt we would both see,
together we're better -
  I dreamt you weren't choosy.
I dreamt up the ways
of how I could tell you.
I dreamt up bouquets
and a time and place too.
I dreamt that I told you.
  I dreamt that I could do.
I dreamt that it happened.
  I dreamt of a breakthrough.

instead i told you
at 3am   drunk   on facebook
*and i took it back the next morning
The pain hurts less than regret.
Imperfect Desire Mar 2015
Am I the only one that has their demons feasting upon their souls?
They say it is easy to tie a noose around your mind,
To overcome the urges and temptations of ending your life with a suicide
They don't know the true pain and torment that is going on in my head
An epic battle that leaves me with restless nights in bed
"End your life already" they say, as they prey on me during my weakest hours
Sometimes I give into the voices, carrying the sharp blade to my wrist
Crying as I struggle to mutter three powerful words that keeps me going
Choking on my sobs, my lungs deflate with a desire to say that God loves me
I try to convince myself that God is trying to test my faith
And to just wait, wait and wait
Then my Demons will eventually go AWAY.....



~Imperfect Desire **
Mark Tilford Apr 2015
Did you really send your son to convince us
Your son that turned water into wine for us
The one that walked on water to show us
The one that brought a man back from death to walk among us

Did you really send your son to convince us
The one that wore a crown of thorn's in front of us
Your son that carried his own cross so far for us
The one that was ****** by so many of us

Did you really send your son to convince us
The one that was nailed to the cross by us
Your son that died for us
The one that arose from the dead to prove to us

Did you really send your son to convince us
Your son that shared your word with all of  us
The one you sent to teach us
Your son that was betrayed by some of us

Did you really send your son to convince us
The one that still listens to us
The one that still believes in us
Your son that will still pray with us
The one that will still guide us

Did you really send your son to convince us
That you still love us

Did you really send your son to convince us
That you will send him back to us

His Answer:

YES!!
Steven Hutchison Apr 2012
If I could convince you of one thing,
I would convince you that you are worth it.
These arms are much to short and far too weak
to rip through the curtain of time,
but if I could convince you,
I would brush hours with my fingertips
and leave palm prints engraved on the days you didn't feel loved.
Reaching back, up to my elbows in  pools of your story,
sifting through the silt built up at the bottom,
twisting knobs and turning dials
until every time you heard his voice or her voice say
'you will never amount to anything'
instead played back
'you will never stop amounting.'
Spry young saplings, planted at the river's edge,
you will never stop growing.
You will always find strength when you lift your branches to the sky,
be it deep in your roots,
you will stand taller than northern pines,
taller than sycamores that split clouds with their leaves.
Believe me now more than your memories,
you will do so much more than survive.
I would spill this pain I see melted in your eyes.
With all of the righteous fury a sinner can muster,
I would destroy those times you were told
that it's never ok to cry,
that you must live like prisoners inside your own bodies
with emotions covering up the windows more and more each day.
If I could convince you,
I would swallow every steel bar you've ever known,
Giving you back your mother,
Giving you back your father.
I would fill myself with cages
if you would know that you are free.
You are free to live life as you have seen it in the trees.
Stand tall, and drink from the rivers of love
so few are willing to share with you.
In turn, share your rivers with those who also believe.
I would not erase the pain you have suffered,
for I would not dare touch your strength.
I would ask, that when you feel the wind,
like the breath of God, stirring through the trees,
that you would stretch out your branches and weep.
Water the ground that has brought you so far,
embracing every waking moment
that you might never again live in dreams.
If I could convince you of one thing,
Change your mind about time,
showing you that you are both past and present
staring boldly into the future,
I would convince you that you are worth it.
Whatever "it" you could imagine "it" to be,
Know that it will never measure up to your leaves.
Day 8
Anisha Mar 2013
"I don't love him anymore. "
I say trying to convince them,
but thinking that I am only trying to convince myself.
AS Jul 2011
How do you explain

to your children that the

horrors of the world are real?

How will I tell my son, We

found a place you can call home but

your bus might not make it to school.

Do not look too Jewish in this part of town

Do not play in the train station

Do not get used

to the weight

of a machine gun.

Or look my

daughter in the eye and say, someday

you might say “no” and someone stronger than you might

not listen

You will not tell me

Know that this happens a lot

Know that your wrists pinned against a

backboard will

echo in the way you move your hands

for as long as you let it

But

human hands aren’t as heavy as metal shackles

And I’m so sorry

but I won’t be able to

take the weight for you

You’ll wake up in the morning

That I can promise you

You’ll wake up

and your lungs will fill with air

whether you tell them to or not.

One day

I will hold someone

small, with my face

and they’ll cry and I’ll say,

*I know.

I know you’re tied with little yarn strings to the last life

I know it hurts to be here and

(honestly)

you’re never going back

But

the older you get the less you’ll remember

what it was like

before you had a body

when you were made of ash and infinite light

You’ll convince yourself you live here and

that your hands are you,

But remember that once you were boundless

Inside my body, without yours.
N Dec 2014
I wonder if your mom was only sipping out the last drips from the bottle, to keep it away from the angry hands of your father.
I wonder if she slams the door as well, just to save him the trouble.
I wonder if she yells at the walls and buries her head where they meet, just so that he knows he isn't alone.
I wonder if she harms her own skin just so he doesn't have to.
I wonder if she tells herself she's worthless so he can save his breath.
I wonder if everyday, she breaks herself down so that he can feel like he's at least better than someone.
I ask myself often what you learnt from living in a house built up of dented walls and liquor stained floors.
I try to convince myself that you managed to build your own shelter, that you're different than them.
When you yell, I try to believe that you're just letting the sounds of your childhood escape your head.
When you punch the walls, I try to convince myself that your trying to make this new home a little more familiar.
When you bruise my skin I try to convince myself its because you don't want me to do it for you.
When you trip on your way up the stairs because of the alcohol in your veins I try to convince myself its because you don't like the way a full bottle looks on the kitchen counter.
When you turn away from me, I try to convince myself its because your scared to let me see you cry.
And after all this, when you tell me you love me; I try to convince myself that you really do.
Tee Murray Jul 2014
My most recent lover, she's a character. Some days I love her enough, other days it just doesn't cut it.
I need you to show me, she says.
Convince me, she pleads.
I blink and I feel the confusion cross my face.
Don't I caress you?
Don't I adore you with my eyes?
Don't I smile at you in hopes that you're just as happy to see me?
Don't I wish that we could spend the day talking and laughing, till the sun finishes it's daily visit?
Till the moon darts through the clouds and seeps through my window?
Don't I write you poems?
Lyrics from my heart that explain my confusion?  
Don't I text you just so I can feel my phone vibrate in response?  
Don't I ignore the world when we talk?
What more can I say or do?
Convince me, she says.
Sometime, when I'm with her, I feel like she doesn't believe me. And it hurts my heart. Maybe she doesn't see my affection? Or perhaps she's too hurt by others to see or recognize it...
Sarah Sep 2014
Simple flex of a muscle
Lift up
Relax
One rep at a time
Getting stronger.

Now part the lips
just a little
Pinch the corners of your eyes
the tiniest bit
to convince them it's real.
Convince them it's real.

All you have to do
Is convince them it's real.
Can you feel it rushing through you
What you can’t deny
All these feelings that you have
When you look into my eyes

Stand back and think it over
You will see it’s true
What I feel you feel the same
When I look at you

My heart cannot deny yours
It knows where it belongs
It sings each time it hears your voice
Knows its found a home

Take a look into these eyes of mine
See what my heart reveals
Convince your own that I’m not yours
And that this love's not real

Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
BG Jul 2014
It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
but you.
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
Many times,
they succeed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
But,
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.
Sa May 2015
You stumbled upon my fantasies
wen I let you look into my eyes.
You shout,
"Our reality gets better."
But how?
Convince me and
I want to be convinced.
I am ready to
give up my dreams for us.
Stephanie Jul 2018
I can convince myself that I’m okay
I can convince myself I don’t think about you
That I’m thriving and happy here
That I don’t have you gnawing in my mind
I could do this forever
I’m happy enough
It’s truly terrifying what we can do to ourselves
We tell ourselves we want this, need it even
Convince others and you’ll convince yourself
The human condition may be hypnosis
Focus on the pendulum
Ticking and tocking
Silver plated, you want that, need that even
She can be your pendulum
She’ll only move two ways, side to side
You convince yourself you don’t need forward and back
You’ve committed to a lifetime of east and west
You should be terrified of what you can do to yourself
You’re capable of being your own hangman
Convince yourself the rope isn’t rough
Tell yourself it isn’t too tight
Reassure yourself the fall isn’t that quick
The ground isn’t that far down
Drop
Ellie Jan 2015
We live in a world where no means convince me and flirting is a green light for ***.
Where women are told, don't get ***** and men are rarely told, don't ****.
Where **** shaming is encouraged and victims are blamed.
Where speaking out about **** is a call for attention and **** victims are silenced.
We live in a world where **** culture is normal and that is **unacceptable.
Zeeb Jul 2018
The Lake Pontchartrain Causeway… man that’s one long bridge
I drive it every day for my pay - here’s what I see along the way

Here comes:
Corvette Kary, setting pace, he thinks he’s in a race
When Kary’s not waxing his ride, for your safety you'd best pull aside

Petrified Patty, she’s over water and has never learned how to swim
She’s driving a white Lexus, so scared she has no reflexus

Miata Mike, chasing Kary's Vette, not gonna get too far
Trying to convince himself, he didn’t buy a girly car

Watch out for:

Makeup Mary, on cruise-control, wow she’s one of the worst
She loves her new Camry, but her next car might just be a hearse

Yes, that Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway has its points, take time to see
24 miles of entertainment, and the Northbound way is free

Here comes:

Road Rage Randy, always ****** and he doesn't know why
Today he’s running late, but finds time to escalate

Doughnut Danny, rolling breakfast and a tea
Such mechanized efficiency, has a newspaper on his knee

Wackin Wayne, you're kidding me, you thought I couldn't see?  Vibrating Virginia close behind, now we have equality

We've got:

Maypop Marty, thinks tires last forever
Does he even check the air?.... never

Mark The Spark needs a muffler shop, something heavy about to drop.  Comes Innocent Mike on his motorbike too bad he just couldn't stop.

Headphone Harry and his Pandora, he's hear but also... he's not.  He likes his music best, you see, after a few long tokes of his ***.

Fugitive Fred on the go, at 65 point ooo.  Not a mile to fast or to slow, got to blend in on this bridge don't you know.

Yes that old Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway, has its points, take time to see
The mechanized circus on parade, our hilarious humanity

Don’t forget:

Frozen Frita, every rainstorm stops her dead in her track
Then here comes Ramin’ Ron, goin 60, aint too good for her back

No Tie-down Tim, **** flyin’ out of his truck
For everyone behind him, Tim doesn’t give a ****

NPR Nancy, she must be in a “Driveway Moment”
Only problem is, she’s on a god-**** bridge

Texting Theresa, I’ve saved the best for last
The last thing in life she did see, was an idiotic emoji

Lookin’ Lee, that’s me, pretty sad that I’m just as bad
Come join us nuts on the Causeway, might be the most fun you ever had
It's too soon to live in memories
I try to convince myself
Years don't change everything
I try to convince myself
This is no prison I'm living in
I have the keys, the locks are not broken
I try to convince myself I have a reason
For not using them

Grab a pen and some paper
Some of these are important
I just know they are
These are the things that made me what I am
Aren't they?
The sum total of all my experiences, right?
I need to chronicle and catalog
Separate the wheat from the chaff
This will set me straight
Or maybe not...could be a waste of time

Time takes them away, one by one
Teases, bringing some back
Then snatching them away again
Despite my best efforts
To hoard them
Years don't change everything
The cruel workings of time
Are eternal

Of this I am convinced

I've sacrificed freedom
To live in a cage
To settle for memories
For fear that hurt would break in
And make itself comfortable
Quick to remind me of the memories
It helped make

I'm convinced I have no reason
To break these chains
An empty house, alone
Is better than such bad company
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
I watched her lips get wet, as she took a drag from her cigarette. I held her close when I heard her shout, because she finally knew, I had her figured out. Don’t be so pretty, don’t be so coy. Don’t walk away, don’t act like a boy. Don’t question my feelings or make me sore. Don’t, just please don’t, walk out of that door. I want to be the only person, in. Your. room. I want to feel your eyes on me. I want to be the one that you can only, desire. Kissed by a moment. And if you can convince me I am pretty, I will marry you.

So many rules, too many ways to be right. Oh, but please, don’t get me so wrong. Don’t interrupt, don’t guess who I am, or come on too strong. You may not understand that I am myself. Please don’t let my deficit be your burden of wealth. I just want you. To love yourself. Too much to ask? Too much to grasp. I want to feel your arms around me, feel your heart against me. And know, that you are there. No two bit stamp on the back of my hand, a fleeting night under the sheets. No, convince me I am pretty, and I will walk with your shadow til the sunsets.

I am not your buddy, I don’t facilitate second-hand-emotion. I do David Bowie, I do listening to the rain, I do dancing drinking, I do living without shame. And of these words that have been said before, keep gett-ing, left behind with the close of a door. Isn’t it shame you tried so very hard? Clouded, misjudged, may be a bit plus-****? I hate apologies, or the shame of self defeat, where is your fight? Please ground your feet. I am getting bored of myself; the intricacies of freedom hidden in a secret box. Convince me I am pretty, for your are the one who only would know.

I watched her eyes drift to the side, as she held back tears she could never cry. I held her closest when she pushed me away, and when she told me to leave, I made myself stay. Do be you, do smile when you can, do hold my hand, do act like the man. Do make me talk, don’t make me talk ****, just make me realise, you love me just even a little bit. And when I convince myself I am pretty, I’ll be fine, just fine.
devante moore Apr 2015
Don't know how to tell you this
But your starting to become just words on my cell phone screen
Trying to convince me you love me
Even if you really do
My cellular connection is dropping so your messages is not getting through
And don't think It's you
It just hard to feel words on a screen
Your love is plausible
It just might be true
But I've succumbed to this distance
Can't feel the real you
If I met you in real life
I probably wouldn't know
Looking at a stranger looking back at me
Almost 2 years of unheard words
This long on a cell phone
To much of anything kills you
And right now it's my cell phone screen
Eulalie Feb 2014
I keep trying to convince myself that I’ve mustered enough strength to stand up, take a breath, and move the **** on with my life,
content and resolute in knowing that you can’t be a part of it any longer;
I keep trying to convince myself that it was all a bad
(and exquisitely decadent)
dream, that none of it actually happened, that you were precisely those last terrible words, and nothing else;
I keep trying to convince myself that I never loved you,
that I do not still love you…
And yet all the while I can’t muster enough strength to stand up at all;
I balance and wobble on shaky stilts for a brief bit of time, sure, distract myself with “living my life” and “letting you go” and
finding peace amongst the heartbreak, but I am too clumsy to keep abreast for long—
the end of my shoes clip and snag onto memories of sweet nothings, and
I fall all over again as if it were for the first time;
I fall and hit the ground with a smitten, dazed smack of my head to the pavement,
and at first I’m numbed with pleasantries, with the tender memories and harmonies that used to put me to sleep with a smile so stupid it wouldn’t wipe away,
but then the stars clear
and I’m trying to bite back the smarting with fallacies over my decidedly pragmatic indifference, and in my not-yet-pained stupor,
I can almost breathe a mechanical sigh—
can almost get swallowed up by sheer lack of sensation—
and extract a salvation out of my own emotional etherization and find satisfaction amongst the numbness…
I can almost move on if I don’t feel at all…
But I don’t have any reserves of Novocain or morphine, and after I’ve fallen,
the pain always returns.
I keep trying to convince myself that what you told me was true,
that you weren’t ever real,
that you weren’t ever real,
but that contemplation is destroyed the minute it enters the recesses of my darkened cognizance, and I can never revere over a single ******* moment of my day without
something of you
making its unsolicited entrance;
you were always real.
I don’t know;
I just want something positive to come of us, still;
I still hope all the while we are silent; I still yearn all the while we stay distant—
“independent”;
you still are the victim of my fantasies all the while within my head I lament,
praying that I’ll find contentment,
and that for a small while you are only just taking rent
elsewhere, and will soon miss me enough to say that leaving me is never
what you meant of it…
Call me excessively self-indulgent and masochistic for all the
emotional ballistics and disconsolate pyrotechnics
but I’m convinced that the last five months can be validated with a
simple romantic fix of all of this:
for you and I were too explosive not to make sense;
there’s too much that’s been felt,
too much harboring under my doting starry-eyed belt,
too much over which you’ve made me melt.
All I’m asking for is your help.
I surely didn’t imagine you,
I didn’t imagine that warmth that so affectionately looms,
didn’t imagine the luminescence of the moon,
didn’t imagine the connection between us two…
I suppose what it is that I’ve been trying to say, what all along I’ve attempted to convey,
is that I miss you:
Please come back to me, Mr. Blue…
I really ******* miss you.
This is more of a prose, but it wreaks of intensity and desperation and pathetic honesty. Eh.
Harry J Baxter Jan 2014
I don't know man. It just has been different lately, you know?

No not really. What do you mean? Like, explain it.

Okay so you know how you do it and you feel everything dissolve? You know? And that warm fuzzy light fills you up and the back of your head sags all the way to the floor? You know how you can't stop smiling? How nothing matters because everything is going to be chill in the end? You know?

Yeah? So what's the issue?

Well recently, and I mean very recently, I just got this feeling. This ******* feeling for two hours and all I want is for it all to be over.
The thing is - I know that everything is fine. That it's all chill and that I'm just geeking out, but still, the way it makes me feel. I can't do that anymore.

How the hell does it make you feel dude? Jesus can we get to the point sometime soon?

Right, my bad. It's my heart first. I feel my heart going at a thousand ******* miles a minute but when I check my pulse or heart beat - everything is normal. But still I feel it in my chest yapping like a dog at the front door and I can't convince myself that this is chill. Then it's my chest. You know how Jesus died of suffocation on the cross?

I thought they stabbed him before they suffocated?

Whatever, you know what I mean, how people on crosses couldn't breathe because of their arms and lungs and chest or whatever? Well I get this feeling that my chest is thinner than a sheet of printer paper. That every single time that I inhale it's never enough. Then I get this electricity in the back of my head. It creeps up from my sternum, through my throat and then to my brain stem. Like an itch you can't ******* scratch no matter how many layers of skin you go through?

Jesus dude.

Then I convince myself that I can't move my right hand. Convince myself I'm partially paralyzed. Only I'm watching my right hand move. But I feel like it has to be an illusion, because how the hell am I moving a paralyzed hand? It's all gotten so ******* twisted that I don't know which sense I can trust.

Well are you sure that that's the reason? Why don't you take a small geeb or something? For the sake of the scientific method?

Listen to me you fool. There is no method to this. Just madness. But I suppose, in the name of fairness, I should do some more research. Maybe just this one last time. Just to be sure.

Exactly... So you wanna smoke some ****?

Yes. I want to smoke some ****. Just for science and all that. I kinda have to. It'd be unamerican to not smoke, right?

Right.
Andrea Zapiain Nov 2013
I will open the door
please, come in
look around, tell me, what do you see?
Are the golden gates as beautiful as you thought?
Sit down beside me, on this ancient grass
The trees around us hold this together
The same way golden clocks bound us

No one has seen this place before
Perhaps I'm making a mistake
If I trust you with a gun
In this world made of glass

The abyss will gaze back
Good luck handling that
Once you look, you're trapped
In this place I lock myself up in
Where the outside has no power
The answers are within

Are you ready to see?
So few ever open their eyes
I'll hold your hand and show you
Sounds your ears could never hear
Open your eyes, open your mind
You don't need anything else
This is what's behind
The wires, the gears, the turning clocks
Take a look at the hidden mechanisms
Tell me you're not scared

This insanity, forever growing
Like the evenings when we sat for tea
Evenings... were they mornings?
All of this to say
That I want the stars in a glass of champagne
Read books that make no sense
Walk down roads that lead to nowhere
Allow someone to hold me, finally
Dissociating the words, the meanings
Staring at the ceiling
Teach me to let go of reason
Convince me
lX0st Nov 2014
I was blessed with a smile that could convince you of anything,
But cursed with a tongue that could never make you stay.
oh, how I hate you
It's stuck in my head,
Until it's gone,
When I can make endless complaints
Endless back stabs to match.
But till its gone, it is there.
After it's been there and gone,
It is there again.
Every night of everyday
And also in random hours of my days.
I see the old, then I see the new.
It seems my world has turned black and blue.
My heart beats faster
And my eyes: they cry.
I feel I am mourning a loss;
Of someone never born to be able to die.
It's the cases like this
That are always the worst.
You think you've found someone,
When they're not there at all.
So many good times
Have all gone down the drain,
Because everyone's a faker.
Don't you know I hate liars?
You liar, you deceitful and manipulative ****!
You *****!
I hate you,
I hate you,
And then I hate you even more.
What you have done made me fall to the floor.
I don't know how I can get through this,
Because last time I could just hate,
Which still I am doing.
You make that more difficult.
Because when all the memories
Come back again,
I don't want to believe that was you,
Surely it can't be true?
But I know too well
To be fooled more than once,
Not that there's a way you would make it twice,
Because you hate me too.
It's all because of you.
And her
And the other.
All "best friends" do
Is end up having to stab each other.
You see I am missing,
Someone nonexistent.
I knew it was too good to be true,
But that won't stop me bleeding.
I wish the 'you' I was friends with
Was actually real.
Instead I just feel messed over,
All over again.
I don't want to picture,
Not anymore,
Of what's flashing through my head.
The so many too good times.
They've been damaged again.
I trusted you
As I trusted them all,
Because you have to trust to do anything at all.
Again and again trusting proved to be devastating,
Because there is no one who actually
Has your back.
So no I don't want to picture,
I don't want another picture game.
When I'm talking about you in rants,
The devil is your name.
When I'm speaking I do not have to be sad,
It's only the times that I get to think on my own,
When I feel even more torn down.
When I see you walking around,
I wish you were not.
Do you know not what exactly you all have caused?
I can hear you all talking,
Just like we all used to do,
Then the thousands of memories
Come flooding in once again.
And until I convince myself to dry up my emotions,
I watch the dry river banks
Become diluted without letting the rain fall.
Because my tears;
You never deserved them at all.
I don't want to picture what you may think of me.
If you hate me then go on,
You can resent me as much as you can.
But maybe you'd like to know:
I stood up for you.
Even though it was proved to be true.
I didn't believe it at first,
Because it was you.
How dare you!
If you think I didn't know reasons to take sides,
Didn't you think I would defend you as I did her?
Well I ******* tried!
And if roles were reversed then I would've taken yours,
As it wasn't out of favouritism as it stood,
But because you were so unbelievable
That nothing could be done.
No friendship was saved.
Being civilised?
Well I just try to ignore your name.
Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no--
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter--
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.
berry Dec 2014
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.
Amara Oct 2012
This is a story I created for my 5 year old niece.

During the old times, things were not as they are now.  Dangerous monsters lurked around every corner doing the ***** deeds of the gods. The innocents had no protection. Only their own wits could keep them living another day.
Such was so for Elephant, he was one of the most intelligent of all the animals in the forest. He was large and grey, wizened with age. He had dark eyes, full of knowing. He had a strong face, with a large round nose. He was the guard of the forest, a scholar, and he could even read, unlike so many of his predecessors. He protected the innocent animals from the evil ones who meant them harm. The gods envied his intellect. They were afraid that it surpassed their own.  They wanted the innocents to be consumed by their minions, the dangerous monsters that lurked around the outside of the protection circle.
They devised a plan to destroy Elephant once and for all. They got their scariest, meanest, largest, most determined beast to do their bidding. The Mushika, some called him “The Mouse”. The Mushika had never been seen before, he had only been a whiff of a rumor found in children’s stories. He was said to be as large as the biggest trees, as mean as all of the god’s combined, and as powerful as the forest itself.
The god’s were able to convince the Mushika to do their bidding, by promising to make him even larger, meaner, and more powerful than he already was. He agreed and began his journey towards the innocents’ home where Elephant stood ready to protect and defend.
Elephant could feel it in the wind that something was coming. He read the leaves on the water to be sure. He knew that danger was almost on them and prepared for battle. He stood quietly, his eyes slowly moving from trunk to trunk. The wind blew slightly, ruffling his long ears. Then, THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. It seemed as if the whole forest quaked. Far away, trees began to fall to the left and to the right. Slowly, it got closer and closer. Until the Elephant could see a looming white beast with red eyes, a pink nose, round ears, a long pink tail, and a massive body.
He roared, “Elephant, I have a bone to pick with you!!” Elephant’s face was calm as he stepped forward. The Mouse lunged stepping on the Elephant’s trunk. Elephant howled in pain, jerking and tossing away from the Mushika’s massive foot. The Mushika persisted, realizing that he had made Elephant utterly defenseless. He opened his giant mouth, full of sharp teeth, about to swallow Elephant whole.
Elephant’s eyes filled with fear, then sharp determination. He mustered all of his strength together and made one final, gigantic tug. His round nose stretched and stretched and stretched, then popped out from underneath the mouse’s foot. He realized he was free, and wasn’t focused on how his nose had become elongated. He shoved with all of his might against the Mushika who was very startled sending him back against the trees. The Mushika had been knocked out.
Elephant called out to the innocents, “Family! We must flee now before this mouse wakes up. We must go where not even the God’s can find us!” All of the innocents came out of their huts.
One of the children, Giraffe, asked, “What happened to your nose?”
Elephant replied, “It has been stretched out, but do not worry. I am fine. We must go now!”
So all of the animals packed their things and went to a hiding place. Elephant realized he could grip things with his new nose. He picked up a giant rock and began to crack the ground away from the rest of the forest. It broke off and floated away, millions of galaxies away. They decided to call this place Earth. So that was how Earth became.
Later on, when the Mushika woke up, the gods were waiting for him. “You have failed your mission, therefore you must be punished,” they said in unison. The mouse quivered as they began chanting strange words. Slowly his size diminished to the size of an apple. He squeaked, no longer able to roar. The god’s laughed, snapping their fingers. The Mushika was suddenly on Earth, where his dreadful enemy was. The Mushika had been stripped of his mighty name and put into unfamiliar territory with no allies. Forever to be called Mouse, never to be able to defend himself again.
Elephant knew that Mouse had been punished for loosing their battle, yet he was still terrified that he would change back into that horrible beast. He feared Mouse the rest of his life, and told all of his family to fear him as well. This story explains why the elephant’s trunk is so long, why mice are so small, and why such a large animal as the elephant is scared of such a small animal as the mouse.
Traveler Sep 2018
What if I could believed
All those impossible stories
All those brilliant miracles
Majestic in their glories
The proverbs
You teach your children
The comfort of your gift
What if it were true
That destinies were some how fixed

Where is this place
Where truth is hidden
For only the chosen few
The gathering of angels
The conversion of the Jews
Where are your invisible deities
The miracles of their love
If they’re real, then no big deal
They can stop the wars
From above  

Sea of gold
Trees of knowledge and life
A ****** heart
Becomes god's wife
Bowing down
Forever more
Before the judgmental
Blood stained floor
Answering questions like
Did you support the war
I'm afraid you'll need
To convince me more...
Traveler Tim

Thought of my morn.
an artist Sep 2013
i used to hold the blade against my skin and say to myself, "you'll feel worse pain than this"
to convince myself to do it
and when i said that, i meant that the worst pain
would be that of you leaving me again
except you didn't leave
so the only pain left
is the one that i inflict upon myself
Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
Diba May 2015
Aries* - Tell me about every person who broke your heart, tell me about how you fantasize of never being heard of again.

Taurus - Tell me about the demons that tuck you in bed every night and you lay awake and try to fill the void in your heart with lost causes.

Gemini - Do you remember the last time you spilled your feelings out to someone? And had them touch your soul instead of your body? Has anyone ever tried to untangle the mess you heart’s been in?

Cancer - When did you feel the shock of losing someone? When you realized you will never fell their touch or hear their voice, you will only see their smiles in photographs.

Leo - Remember the first time someone told you theyre never going to leave you? How long has the hole you’ve torn in your heart been empty?

Virgo -Tell me about how you’re torn between forgetting them and forgiving them

Libra - Tell me about how you’ve been looking for love in all the wrong people, why it hurts so much when they look at you like that.

Scorpio - Tell me about the first time you felt the weight of hatred on your heart. Who left you so broken that now your eyes would cut deeper than any knife you’ve ever picked up.  

Sagittarius - How many times have you said “why won’t my heart stop beating” before falling asleep?

Capricorn - How many times have you tried to convince your mind that the person you love, loves you back?

Aquarius - Who broke the windows to your heart? You thought it would hurt for a minute but it’s been 4 years and nothing’s changed.

Pisces - How many poems have you written that no one will ever read? The ones  about your ex lovers who left you broken on the bathroom floor while you carved their names on your walls.
AIA Mar 2016
See you with her, made me realize that I'm not your special girl anymore.
See you hold hands with her made me think that it was my hand you're holding before.
That hug of yours that once to be my home,
that laugh that once we shared together
and,
you that once to be mine.
See you happy with her...
that way I can convince myself that I'm no longer the love of your life anymore.
I'm no longer the reason behind your fast heart beating
and
that way I can convince myself to accept the fact that I could never be in that place that I used to be.
I'm now letting you go.
Believe me, I love you.
But I guess,
she can love you more.
Dedicated to R.E.
zoie marie lynn Aug 2018
hi my name is broken and
i once caught my father using all his teeth hands lip and tongue on a woman that was not his own
outside my bedroom window,
i spent the night trying to convince myself that
love is real love is real love is real
because after that i wasn’t ever really sure.

hi my name is survivor and
i was once a punching bag for my stepfathers anger and houses in the country will forever terrify me
all because of a random man and his prying fingers and his sticky gum,
and then there’s this third set of bones and dark flesh that made me so afraid of my own skin i had to tell myself
i am beautiful i am beautiful i am beautiful
because hate and death wasn’t my only option.

hi my name is butterfly and
i once broke every bone in my body falling so hard for a girl with the loveliest voice i’ve ever heard but she had other bodies underneath her
thick brown belt
she wouldn’t let herself feel all the things i felt,
i spent thanksgiving in a mental hospital chanting over and over
i am lovable i am lovable i am lovable
because without even trying, she had managed to convince me that i wasn’t.

hi my name is destroyer and
i chose water over blood because blood burned and drowned and buried me ten feet down all at the same time and i didn’t want to die because of them
anymore
i split in half all the walls and windows and doors to my home,
i needed to do and be what was best for me so i told myself again and again
i’m not alone i’m not alone i’m not alone
because all i felt was the aftermath of being the very thing that broke up my home.

hi my name is lover and
i tend to give too much of me way too quickly because i don't fall in love, i dive with feet facing the sky, head towards the concrete
and i wonder how i end up being so broken and incomplete
so i wound up all the glue and all the tape,
i muttered over and over in between each breath
fate isn't fake fate isn't fake fate isn't fake
because my heart always seemed to pound a few beats behind, a few beats too late.

hi my name is suicide and
i stepped in front of trains and bullets and knives and i hate yous and you’re nothings all looking for a father that
never really wanted me
he broke my throne, i cut more than just my hair, i no longer want to be here,
and i screamed at the top of my lungs because
it’s worth it it’s worth it it’s worth it
it just doesn’t feel like it anymore.
it's been such a long time, i don't feel the same.
B1uesx Nov 2014
A broken love
the broken eyes
The reason why my mind is uncontrolable
Convince to the greater good
I try in my mind
but i don't to eyes
I look up to people
but I look down
The truth is unspoken
except to the broken
Cover up the oblivious
at the end
everything stays
unforgettable
unfixable
broken

— The End —