"crueler" poems
On the third of June, at a minute past two,
where once was a person, a flower now grew.
Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage
in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage.
In a changing room, a lily poses.
At the DMV, rows of roses.
The world was much crueler an hour ago.
I'm glad someone decided to give flowers a go.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
This level reach of blue is not my sea;
Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,
Whose quiet ripples meet obediently
A marked and measured line, one after one.
This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves
Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm.
I have a need of wilder, crueler waves;
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.
So let a love beat over me again,
Loosing its million desperate breakers wide;
Sudden and terrible to rise and wane;
Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide
That casts upon the heart, as it recedes,
Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.
19.7k
Ice can be cooling and calming and free.
Ice can protect and and aid
destiny.
Ice can be slicing and savage and wild.
Ice can slaughter - man, woman or child.
Ice can be mild and mellow and fresh.
Ice can give refuge from Summer's hot mesh.
Ice can be crueler and sharper and cold.
Ice can decide not to favour the
bold.
Our icy opinions are all black or white,
But grey ice in grey Winter hides in a grey night.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
they're the worst, and i mean that literally
imagine this, imagine that
everything that terrifies you, from any age that you've been
from the things that barely ***** you to the things that you are deathly afraid of
under one tent, an old worn down halloween coloured carny tent, filled with broken down rides and fallen apart structures and lit only by the moon
all with one intent, all of them working together to reach one goal
to get you, and have their way with you
and you can't fight back, every time you try to, they just get stronger
so you do the one thing you can do at this point
you run
you run faster then you ever have before, and none of this weird *** dream running where you move slowly when you're trying to run
i mean full out sprinting
you run and try to escape
but there's no way out, the holed purple and orange walls of the tent flap in the wind but when you go to touch them, they fill and turn solid
solid concrete below three inches of dirt, and you can't see anything to climb
you run and try to hide
the lesser terrors might try to help you.
trying to convince you that this place is safe, or to let them lead the others off of your trail
but they never tell the truth, they only do one thing
they help the greater terrors find you
so you refuse their help, shooing them away, and you survive for a bit longer
but its always the same, in the end, no matter what you try, every time it ends the same way
they find you, hiding on top of one of the structures, in a little cave, somewhere in one of the rides
and you're tortured
you're tortured worse than you ever thought that a being would do
sometimes your tongue is split into thirds from side to side, and is then cut from front to back
sometimes your limbs and body are twisted and contorted into strange shapes, making you into human art
you foolishly believed that these things might have a heart and not make it as slow and painful as they could
well you're right for the first bit, they do have a heart of sorts
after they're done playing with you
after they're done toying with your body
they don't just let you be, leave you where you are to stay there in agony
no, they **** you
nothing extra, nothing complex
just a stab through the heart, a ripping off of the head, and you're gone
unless they're being crueler
at which point, you have the option of fighting back
or letting them **** you in a gruesome way, hanging you from a rope over an open tank of water with lots of hungry creatures eagerly awaiting your fall
at least, that's what you think they do, you're never asleep long enough to find out
and that's why youre glad that they've only now begun to come and get you while you're awake
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
I am closer to believing
than I ever was before
on the crest of this Elation
must I crash upon the shore
And with the Driftwood of acquaintance
light the fire to love once more
I am windblown... I am times.
To be closer to believing
to be just a breath away
On the death of inspiration
I would buy back yesterday
But there's no crueler illusion
There's no sharper coin to pay
as I reach out...it slips away
From the ***** of custom
to the ledges of extremes
don't believe it till you've held it
life is seldom what it seems
But lay your heart upon the table
and in the shuffling of your dreams remember...
who on Earth you are.
I need me
You need you
we want us
But of course you know I love you
for what else am I here for
only you not face to face
but side by side forever more
I need to be here with you
for without you what am I
Just a fool out searching
for some heaven in the sky
Take me to forward lead me on
Through collision and confusion
While there's life beneath the Sun
you are the reason I continue
so near for so long
so close.... yet so far away
I need me
You need you
We want us
to live forever
measure after measure
Of the writing on the wall
that burns so brightly it blinds us all
I need me
you need you
we want us
together on Sundays in the rain
closer than forever
against or with the grain
to ride the storms of Love Again
So be closer to believing though your world is torn apart
For a moment changes all things and to end is but to start
And if your journey is unrewarded may God lift up your heart
You are windblown
but you are mine.
Emerson Lake and Palmer lyrics -
favorite of Cherie Nolan
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
It should have felt like utter ecstasy that final feeling of relief.
My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation.
Seemingly though never quite reaching Moksha.
Just as a desert always kisses the mirage of water but never tastes it.
The solace of peace that I craved.
My finger still lingers over the send button.
Call it trigger happy, but this is sadness with a nose.
Running after people trying to prove something.
Trying to confirm that I was something worth missing.
Someone worth loving.
Bending backwards like a contortionist.
Doing whatever appeases to be loved even if it was me being sacrificed.
The gods were no crueler than I was to myself.
I was a lamb in a lion’s den.
Crawling under the feet of those who never served me.
A wanderer lost in the desolate space between her mind and heart.
Logic doesn’t speak love into the life that is absent.
I see a hand reaching back the feeling of utter relief.
My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation.
Seemingly though never quite reaching moksha.
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
Famine had come to our shores
The poor and weak it claimed.
It was our staple, the potato, which failed.
There was no lack of grain.
The landlords were exporting crops
While they watched their tenants bide.
A crueler death than Cromwell gave
Back when he let God decide.
The Wealthy were the Protestants,
centuries in the ascendant.
The victims, mostly Catholic,
of native Celts descendant.
Starvation is a lingering death.
It is not quick or kind.
Green Grass was, for many,
the last meal on which they dined.
When our neighbor, Kitty Kelly, died,
too proud to take the soup.
We boarded ship for old New York
And left behind our youth.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
The nine months of unbearable displeasure,
Are all of a sudden worth it when you see this treasure.
The feeling of holding her in your arms at last,
The joyous emotion will never dare to pass.
You get to watch her grow, just as you did.
You would give your eternal soul for her, your life you would bid.
Trials and tribulations come with the joys of puberty.
A wider respect for your parent’s patience with you, soon to be.
You want to hug her and spank her, whenever she dares sass.
Quick witted, smart, and more than sometimes stubborn as an ***
But she comes to you when she needs to cry on a shoulder,
You want her to stay with you and never get any older.
Sometimes you lose your mind over the protesting, angsty screams.
Still the love in your heart makes it burst at the seams.
But soon enough she is out of the house and into school.
Sometimes you feel like your experiencing life’s crueler rule.
You have come to be disheveled when you go through life without her.
You don’t know what to do. But you are still her mother.
Remembering back on the old days, when life was a real mess,
You will always love her, nonetheless.
This is the feeling of maternal love,
Towards your precious gift, sent from up above.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:05 PM UTC
The thoughts
They come
They destroy
And then your done
Capture all your feelings
Crush all your believings
You try to take control
But they just can’t go away no more
Years of fear
Years of worries
Years of praying to the heavens
But they don’t leave
They are here with me
And not letting myself to be
Who I wanna be
They just come and explode
Make me wanna hit the road
Go far
All alone
Take a hike
Turn of my phone
But they won’t leave me alone
It’s there
Why the **** do I care!!
(I’m in control!)
No you’re not!
(This is my spot!)
No it ain’t !
And than I paint
All my thoughts
I’m going crazy
It’s too much
I’m going crazy
They are torture
Make my life more slower
They ******* take up time
They are ruthless, never rhyme
Make a hole
A deep dark hole
Where I can’t fall in no more
I climbed out years ago it’s pulling me back
And the fears in there, they wreck happiness
They choke me
They tear my mind apart they mock me!
(You ain’t strong!)
Yes I am!
(You can’t succeed!)
Yes I can
I can just run away from all this ********
But it’s running after me, never seams to quit
It wants to be the king
It wants to be the ruler
And as the days go by
It gets crueler and crueler
(Worry ***** Be afraid that keeps you alive!)
No it ain’t that’s what makes me die!
(It is a part of you!)
No it’s not
You behave like you have a ******* spot
But you ain’t
You trying to take control
I won’t let you
It seams like a 1000 years ago since I met you
This toxic relationship has been to long
Now that’s it I have to be strong!
(No you’re weak!)
Let me speak!
( I have a louder voice you coward freak!)
No you ain’t !
I'm in control, you just wait!
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 7:47 AM UTC
It doesn’t matter how many times people say you did your best,
They never truly know the truth of the situation.
Only you know just how much you weren’t there for mum
In her hours of need.
Dementia is a cruel fate,
And even crueler when living with a narcissist
Who deliberately causes a rift in the family.
Does the guilt ever go away
For those left behind?
Jul 26, 2022
Jul 26, 2022 at 2:25 AM UTC
To you, I owe each sleepless night
Which I pay by every turn and toss
Until morning drags her violet light
To collect my dues, each hour’s loss
This is not something that I resent
I have found delirium to be a pleasure
As the only things dreams can present
Are fleeting moments, a frantic measure
I know we spent at least three days
As slaves to desire, instead of rest
With crimson eyes, a rosy craze
And even passion had confessed-
That she grew exhausted, and so she left
Yet still our bodies found each other
Knowing her absence was no theft
For the true criminal was another
A crueler kind-his name is Time
And it seemed as though a second spent
Brought upon the cathedral’s chime
If only to remind us of our rent
Late again, and again it’s due
But he had taken our every cent
I will never regret giving me for you
For sleepless nights is all it meant
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
Crystalline gliding.
Clippin' cuticles in cubicles
& itching for a kaleidoscope
dance
with The Phantom
sidling ridged in the ceiling's fold.
Glazed eyes from a friend.
honey crueler.
Polymerization twists coffee sweats with briny tears
& my pores breath the calcification.
Beet red eyes sting like molten hiss
& pollen still buries it's way deep
into the tree trunk,
Bleeding like a sour calf
just to stroke a
coconut leaf
in the musky village.
I live inside a cantaloupe
so I can't elope with status quo.
Sipping puddles & licking groggy mud spots
so the Queen calls me swamp belly.
She looked like she was carved out of rice.
bitten & frail steps
with gentle linger
teased soft grass
in the concrete canal
where the streets glistened
with mustaches drenched
in honey brown ale.
His brain is a tickled cauliflower
encased in Papier-mâché,
Lima bean boogers
&
nicotine stained chestnut shells.
Gears torque and crudely animate
his sluggish form and peanut butter
body.
Diabetic eyes,
that bark like a sloth &
lay a thick layer of custard over their
last nerve,
intrigue mine own to stare
into the vague emptiness.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
a qualified transgender,
who could answer better!
the art of being cruel,
spirit crushing human stoning,
well, none can do it better than
the ***** female,
who made me
what I am today,
that made her man,
a woman
thin smile with shining eyes,
as she harpoons you repeatedly,
and dying you is
her midnight snack,
in between eating you
alive three times
daily
so I became a woman
but not like her,
no ***** here
gentle loving tenderness mantra,
so I can resolve this question
men commit cruelty unintentionally,
with no sense of sensibility,
taking, using, with nary a thought
of what they crime committing,
to their unintentional intentions
they are so ******* blind,
it hurts so much worse,
cause they cruel us girls
just for the using,
that a cruelty so unreal
its definition cannot be found
in any dictionary..
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.
Torture,
like watching her
from the shadows
as she
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.
Within my
mind Ive said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind,my quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try,
listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it
is I hardly
speak.
Its the stammer,
the god given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed
to hear.
Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.
This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.
Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.
This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.
I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained
prison.
Word by
written word .
Im slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
Beggers cant be Choosers,
Winners won't be Losers,
Early birds can't be Snoozers,
Dont'ers won't be Do'ers,
More or Less but jus not Fewer,
Ugly is ugly.. It won't get Cuter..
If it's Old, it ain't getting Newer,
Roses are red &
Violets are Blue'er,
If you give them an Inch..they will take the whole Ruler
This world is Cold
And just getting Crueler .
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
I was three years old standing barefoot on the screened in porch in the summer heat
you had a beer in your hand with condensation wetting your skin
I asked and you answered
My first sip of alcohol fascinated my three year old self
Bubbles
I was six and wearing a white dress walking next to a boy in a suit down a church aisle
Eyes fixated on the moment I would grow in my faith
First communion came with excitement to me
I tasted church wine for the first time
Genisis
I was twelve and at Christmas dinner with extended family
table set makeshift bar locked eyes with mine
You poured me a glass of red
a special occasion you said
Acceptance
I was fourteen then fifteen then sixteen
Every week a glass of wine with dinner
A beer in the summer
it complemented the steak
You taught me to drink at home to know my limits
To protect me from going crazy when I left home
Normality
I was eighteen and a two-time college dropout
The wine on the counter and a constant supply of liquor comforting
A stressful day ended with a numbing to my feelings
A glass away from silence in my head
and an easy night of sleep from being mixed with my medications
Routine
I was twenty when I realized a drink would turn into a few
and a few would turn into asleep on the floor
or vomiting and sitting in the shower for hours
I was twenty when I realized it took more to get me tipsy than it used to
that I needed to drink and when I did I wouldn't stop
because what was the point unless you were drunk
I was twenty when I started to jokingly call myself an alcholic
I was twenty when my friends dropped the joking part
I was twenty and tipsy and unable to legally drink and I had already become what everyone else in my family denied being
I blame you
the three year old with a fascination of forbidden things
the six year old who had an intrigue in the taste of communion wine
the twelve year old who accepted the drink from her grandfather's ***** breath every holiday dinner
the teenager who let herself drink at home in the presence of her parents who thought it would help prevent the inevitable
the eighteen year old who learned the hard way life was a much crueler teacher than school and accepted the easy access to numbness
I blame you for the twenty year old I have become
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
Please,
someone
tell me.
What do I do
If I can’t die
Because I have hope in the future
But I can’t stay alive
Because the present is so much crueler
Jul 29, 2021
Jul 29, 2021 at 9:16 PM UTC
Table,
My father and I sat
In our timeless silence
That brewed away beneath the lights
Like a sweat that never breaks.
Sister and the Stranger
Sat flanked by pillars,
With two full glasses of
Blood-lit wine
Simmering warmly like
Lamb's hearts
Dropped into bowls.
Never do I love my sister more
That when she wears that little fishhook
Of a smile,
A grim refusal of her lips to flicker down,
Making mincemeat of photographers,
Men in bad jumpers,
And garrulous psychopaths.
It was crueler than any frown.
Far more efficient.
The Stranger buttered her bread-roll all at once,
(A damning thing to do this afternoon)
And dinner turned to coffee
Without a hitch.
I noticed that the whole evening was
Done in a deliberately cut-glass way -
Two siblings painting themselves
Into the people they never wanted to be,
To make a bloody-minded point.
*She’s not one of us.
She’s nothing like us.
She’s nothing like mother -
Absolutely nothing like mother!*
And as we stood waiting for the car
My sister turned to me and said –
“I thought my expectations of daddy were low.”
She swiped at her flapper-girl haircut,
“Turns out my expectations
Have a basement.”
We only notice class
When we need to shut someone
Out.
We only notice class
When it's all we've got.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
Every now and then I miss you terribly
What a cruel way my heart remembers
To tell my brain I love you.
And what a crueler way my mouth
Never told you.
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
Born and brewing on the road
A choice on me has been bestowed
To grant one side my presence there
Take time to choose; contrast, compare.
Offers, one side, an easy life
Let's sing all day, and play the fife!
The other, it seems, is harder still,
Yet full of life; a forest's trill.
"Come here!" one says, "there's much to do!"
"Have fear!" one says, "it's brutal too!"
"It's crueler there," says one, in rebuttal.
"It's cruel, but fair," one says with a scuttle.
Forever struck, undecided on the road
For which side is better; my humble abode?
Made soon is this choice, for ahead comes upon
Two lights on the hill, like a double edged dawn
Quick like a deer, I unfold into action.
Be part of the woods? Or a slave unto fashion?
To the judgement of others, their eyes on my back?
Or the home of the hunters, to survive their attack?
To the glistening great cities with the smog thickened air?
Or the rolling green trees, all alone in despair?
So towards the lights I will run, on the road I will ride.
For I will always remain with one foot on each side.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
I
He grimaced while flexing forth,
the Hulk he was channeling, going North,
blonde crew cut, making a spectacle while
wearing glasses
he wore a black tank, with no sleeves,
while the wind teased the leaves with a breeze,
and they fallsaulted (somer is over)
across the concrete at his feet,
it was all about him on the street,
his handler, his care giver,
watched with a shiver as
as she had him and two
others to deliver to their
destination on foot, crime
fighting would delay the journey
and she was not sure who would
end up on the gurney if it all went awry.
II
Short time later, as they passed by, gone, the other part of the duo
arrived
she walked with swagger, in heels and no stumbles or missed steps,
not quite a stagger,
dressed in black with jet-black hair, she was part ninja,
part tim-bit monster,
or at least her appetite was,
the box of forty sat on her shoulder and she was delighted
by eating
them one at at time, her confident stride and petite feet,
stuck in almost stiletto heels acting,
very intuitive, see how she feels,
that kind of hero, because if she had to from fifty paces,
she could take out your eye with a honey crueler tim-bit
don't be fooled by
her ambivalent smile, and toss of her hair, those spoke of
caution and beware, as she stuffed another in there,
where she smiled while her eyes twinkled, kept moving her feet,
I think she spotted me from fifty paces,
away and from my second story window,
it was curtains for me, I closed my eyes and braced for impact,
which never came,
as to her shame,
see even heroes
don't share
all the time.
No more heroes walked by that day,
crime rates were down and children were
able to play
and be safe, so as my final thought
from my view on the second floor,
never under estimate anyone,
for real or in fun, and their capacity to bring joy, even without sharing.
©DWE102013
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
*Scars Masking My Flesh,
Fate's Talons Are Sharp And Ruthless,
They Aren't Afraid To Make You Bleed*
My Heart Deflated,
Dreams Sedated,
I Thought I Made It,
But It Was Just Hallucinated,
Thought I Made It Past The Guns,
But When I Came Up To You, You Held One,
I Started To Run,
But You Shot Me Down,
You Cut My Lips Making A Permanent Frown,
Now There Is A Surreal Pounding In My Crown,
As You Try To Make Me Accept Your Apology,
You Yelled And Abused,
You Left A Me With Some Bruses,
And A Permanent **** On My Heart,
You Hungry Ghost,
In Ways You Were Crueler Than Most,
You've Added To My Collection If Battle Scars
*Hope Slashed My Wrists,
And Sliced My Shoulders,
I Sit Here And Wonder,
When Will This War Ever End*
I'm Terrified,
But I'm Not Leaving,
I'll Fight In This Warful World,
Until I'm No Longer Breathing,
While My Heart Is Lethargically Beating,
I Will Clean The Wound Where I'm Bleeding,
So Don't You Dare,
Try To Defeat Me.....
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
My story,
Do I have one?
Of course I do, everyone does.
Some are harsher and crueler
Some are nice and happer
Many are a mix of cruel and happy
And as for me, I have one too
It's sad and happy, a bit of both.
My story.
It starts in the beginning
And ends at the end
It's quirky and troubled
Sunny and long.
But it's also shorter than many
I've lived much in my
Fifteen(almost sixteen) years of life
Not as much as others
But my tapestry is tightly woven
My story
Is a story of
Pain and laughter
Love and indifference
And it is still being written.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Little black dots on the hillside
All fuzzy and free
I come across some, and they look at me
Black eyes questioning, am I a friend or a foe?
So gentle, so simple, never very bold
I know that they will all come to a bitter end
The process has been started and I tend
to notice these things, poor animals, so used
Simply products to us, no one is enthused
about taking better care of them
Most just never think
But watching them now puts me on the brink
They've been branded, ears cut, and even crueler snips
No anesthetic, and when they're gone, they won't be missed
Others will appear in the green grass fields
A never ending supply
Why isn't animal life held dear?
Later at the store, I see them again
Neatly stacked in packages, frozen and then
I know there is no possible way
I cannot be a vegetarian today
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC