"crueller" poems
“
You are stronger than you realise.
You are crueller than you realise.
The smallest words will break your heart.
You will change. You’re not the same person you were three years ago. You’re not even the same person you were three minutes ago and that’s okay. Especially if you don’t like the person you were three minutes ago.
People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires.
You won’t like your name until you hear someone say it in their sleep.
You’ll forget your email password but ten years from now you’ll still remember the number of steps up to his flat.
You don’t have to open the curtains if you don’t want to.
Never stop yourself texting someone. If you love them at 4 a.m., tell them. If you still love them at 9.30 a.m., tell them again.
Make sure you have a safe place. Whether it’s the kitchen floor or the Travel section of a bookshop, just make sure you have a safe place.
You will be scared of all kinds of things, of spiders and clowns and eating alone, but your biggest fear will be that people will see you the way you see yourself.
Sometimes, looking at someone will be like looking into the sun. Sometimes someone will look at you like you are the sun. Wait for it.
You will learn how to sleep alone, how to avoid the cold corners but still fill a bed.
Always be friends with the broken people. They know how to survive.
You can love someone and hate them, all at once. You can miss them so much you ache but still ignore your phone when they call.
You are good at something, whether it’s making someone laugh or remembering their birthday. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that these things don’t matter.
You will always be hungry for love. Always. Even when someone is asleep next to you you’ll envy the pillow touching their cheek and the sheet hiding their skin.
Loneliness is nothing to do with how many people are around you but how many of them understand you.
People say I love you all the time. Even when they say, ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’ or ‘He’s an ******* Make sure you’re listening.
You will be okay.
You will be okay."
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.
There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.
Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,
For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.
2.6k
Nestled in a pencil case
And snuggled up in fluff
There snoozed a tiny pirate man
Of legendary stuff
He'd spied the hidden secrets
And trod the haunted shore
Blu-tack Beard the buccaneer
Scourge of the open floor
He stole a shoe-box galleon
And sailed the carpet blue
With pencil mast and paper sails
And crayons as his crew
They forayed on the crooked tiles
And crested every ridge
Blu-tack Beard the scallywag
The raider of the fridge
When moored up in the kitchen
With all his crew around
The captain showed to one and all
A treasure map he'd found
It bore a chart of distant parts
And quite a course it plot
It pointed to the bathroom lands
And tip-ex marked the spot
They crammed the hold with cornflakes
To feed them on their trip
They pulled hard on the piece of string
And weighed the paperclip
The crew they dragged their boat aloft
On neatly woven hairs
Blu-tack Beard the privateer
Surmounter of the stairs
They heaved their vessel restlessly
Atop the final brow
The crayon pirates caught their breath
And leaned against her bow
Then scaled tiny ladders
And each took to their post
Blu-tack Beard was at the helm
And watched the foreign coast
Through countless minutes voyaging
There loomed the bathroom door
They slacked the sail and went below
And each took to an oar
They pulled a mighty rhythm
Till their waxy arms were numb
And Blu-tack Beard the plunderer
Was beater of the drum
But though they pried in every nook
And each last inch of grout
They skirted round the skirting board
They tapped each silver spout
Illusive was their bounty
And they grew ever the crueller
They took their skipper angrily
And made him walk the ruler
He landed glum and ruefully
Amid the ***** socks
He heard the merry spiteful sound
Of laughing, taunting mocks
And saw the sight of mutiny
With waxen little smiles
Blu-tack Beard the cast-away
Alone among the tiles
He commandeered a washing cloth
And weaved himself a rope
He scaled the dreaded washstand
And stole a bar of soap
He carved himself a coracle
And set his sights on home
Blu-tack Beard the wanderer
Awash amid the foam
He slithered down the stairwell
And landed with a plan
For warmer climes and restfulness
A cocktail and a tan
And so he met his final port
Right then did he retire
Blu-tack Beard the pensioner
Of the warm spot near the fire
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
She held him within her. A coiled mosaic, whirling on the precipice. His frame shook tumultuous, his skin the colour of autumn grey. The wetness from his eyes spilled against her soft fur. He pressed his lids tighter, as if to keep his tears from the world. Warmth pooled beneath their paws, a thick ichor that smelled of iron and salt.
The dusk receded, and he breathed his last.
Night left the world a husk. A slumber, cessation. In the still, she felt a chill gather within her, cruel and implacable. The forest stirred, with a restlessness only the dead knew. The barrows shrivelled to their skeleton frames. Death lurked in the furs of the pitch beast, in the mottle snares of the witherfang.
She ****** them all.
Her howl tore through the air, bright and gleaming. It thundered beneath the earth, reverberating through the bones of the long deceased. How had she once felt pride in that sound? A bitter rage roiled in her blood. It twisted the vessels of her body, and set her muscles to stone. She moved and shattered into a thousand shards, each one sharper than the last.
She grieved for two days. The soft contours she’d held his dying body against grew lean and taut. The hollows of her ribs had closed themselves around a seething stone, that filled her flesh bitter. She rose a new beast on the third day. Smarter, but crueller; wiser, but filled with rage; and with only one thought on her mind.
She would find the deceiver, and devour all he loved.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
No one, not even the trees, or the flowers can then say that there is nothing more beautiful than falling in love, and nothing crueller than having your heart broken. I used to think falling in love was no big deal, it was just exchanging whispers and kisses that didn't really mean anything. The folly of youth, really.
I kind of hate you, for being able to make me fumble with my words so easily around you. I hate how you make my very insides burn with warmth whenever I see you. Is it a blessing or a curse, to be so attached to someone?
As the saying goes, "All good things come to an end." Sure enough, it did. You got tired of me and it was no surprise to me that I woke up to an empty bed and a half-empty closet and a hurriedly scribbled note on the coffee-table saying, "I can't do this anymore." It was scary, how five simple words put together shattered me into fragments so tiny.
But god **** it, I should have known from all those red flags that were so obviously waving in front of my stupid, dumb face. It was so ******* obvious, how you were so much more distant (red flag), how you rolled your eyes and clenched your fists every time I complained about a little thing (red flag), how you never worried about me anymore (red flag), how a scowl found its way onto your face whenever I asked you how I looked (red flag). It wasn't any surprise when I found you gone and far away from me that morning.
It's raining now, and I’m cold and sad without you. I'm staring into blank space, the occasional clap of thunder brings me back to reality for a while, and I drift off again mindlessly. It's horrible, feeling like this. My throat is dry and sore, and it's somewhat like you are my water. Or my light, because I'm blinded and you are (were) everything I see (saw). Come back. I don’t understand. Please, just come back. Please.
This rain gets heavier and harder, and true enough, there is nothing crueller than having your heart broken.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
Dream your peace
Whilst the world rages
Go lie in your steel-walled sleep
Let the crueller men deceive
Let better men bleed
A sleeping mind for sleeping times
What’s another casualty?
Doesn’t affect me
So you let deflections become reflexes
Unknowingly
Happenstance you came to live
In first world palms, with first world eyes
Never looking back at second place
Least of all the third in line
Whatever gets you to sleep at night
With such birth rights,
With such languor
I will rule the world in my own mind
With such circumstantial, beneficial, superiority
I will turn a blind eye
To everybody’s suffering but mine
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
"It's a girl" they said
Ooooooh think of all the pink things
Like booties and bows
Dolls, and toys that aren't for boys
"Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed"
Blow the candles out love
Your mother spent hours baking
Your mother spent hours labouring
"She's a woman now!" They cried at her 18th
"We'd better watch them boys!"
But what about the girls?
Why aren't you watching them?
Is it because those girls are at the kitchen sink ?
Awaiting a boy's wink of approval?
Through buttermilk sweetness these
Pink girls think.
You men are ******
Full of tricks
That send half these girls to a shrink
But it's time to have a rethink
We fair maidens view you
Through basilisk eyes
We fairer *** are
Crueller than you
It's time to drop kick the pink
Permanently into the kitchen sink
And slink behind you
With a candlestick
After all I'm just a pink girl
Who would believe that the
Pink mess on my dress
Is your brain?
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
*Life is getting harder
The kids are getting meaner
The jokes are getting crueller
And it's getting hard to brush off*
My name appears on bathroom stalls,
facebook walls,
and most of all
voices in the halls
People glare,
Girls stare,
All the boys are aware
Privacy has gotten rare
They say it's gone to my head
But they won't listen to what I've said
It's not the school that I dread
But the people who have read
The people who think they know me
to a tee
think they all agree
that a ***** is all they see
They think I care
About their hair
And who they kiss
That their downfall is my bliss
I wish they knew
It isn't true
I don't care about who dates who
I couldn't care
About what they wear
And I wouldn't judge
Based on a grudge
I would never hope that they would fail
or that their life becomes derailed
I smile not because I'm fake
But because being unkind is life's greatest mistake
So no I'm not the high school witch
I'm not queen B, biggest *****
I'm just a girl trying to get by
Wishing I got a shot to answer why
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
For the longest time
I groped
In the darkness
Drowning
But hoping
For a sole breath
That wouldn't be
At the price of
My blood
For the longest time
I was sad
My tears
Carving
A trail down my cheeks
A trickle of blood
Burning
Through my misery
Leaving a destruction
Crueller
In it's wake
For the longest time
I was at peace
With my broken pieces
The ragged shards
That cut me
And made me bleed
Acquainting me
With who I was
Who I was meant to be
I was in love
With my sadness
And now
As I look
Into your shine
My eyes
Are bruised
Wounded
By your light
I am blinded
By everything that I never was
That I could only ever pretend to be
If only you knew
What you think I am
Is just a reflection
Of your own brilliance
And now
I know
I am not meant
To be blithe
Living is not meant for all
Living is not meant for me
I was not blessed
With a chance
To freely breathe
It must be
At the price of
A cut
A scar
The scarlet beads
That will slowly seep away
And drain my veins
But fill my lungs
With the air I need
And so
I shall watch you
From afar
While your eyes
Dance in glee
I shall drown
In my own misery
Because this is where
I was meant to be
And not where
You were meant to breathe
I was never meant to breathe
~r.w.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
April is the cruelest month, so some poet said,
Likely vexed to the breaking point by its coquettish nature,
Alternately promising and withdrawing
Sweetness of the warm sun, rustling green blankets of leaves,
The flirtatious, intoxicating perfume
Of the violet and lily of the valley.
For all its coy fluttering of eyelids,
April may delay but never denies,
Yielding its lover’s bounty and then some
To suitors ardent and otherwise.
Its forerunner of two moons prior promises no such delights,
No flora-and-fauna maidenhood as recompense for devotion;
It is the time of purification, of the purge,
A time where light is at a premium,
Often coveted but rarely apprehended, its fleeting manifestations Matters of obfuscation as opposed to illumination,
Soon to be supplanted by fierce meteorological harpies
Short on subtlety but long on effectiveness,
Carrying away those not equipped to resist its peculiar charms
(The too-early runt calf, the aged and nearly-blind collie
Trotting to an unfamiliar field or wood lot,
The newly-solo grandparent acquiescing to the song of the abyss),
The unfortunates consigned to some crypt
Or undisturbed corner of barn or basement,
Proper farewells set aside for some indeterminate time
When it is feasible to block out the knowledge
That the springtime is promised to no man or beast,
Especially at such an interval
Where so little seems to separate one from the other.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
"You're fat and ugly."
"You're dumb and stupid."
"You should just die!"
Each word crueller then the previous.
But the victims face the pain.
And strive for strength.
Deep inside of them.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
I was pure and angelic
In a world full of satans
But he was alcoholic
And he still had many fans
I was beauty
He was the beast
I was cutie
He was the least
The least of his ex's worries
Because she was crueller than him
A relationship of furies
Is all what attracts men like him
Love *** and communication
That was what he said at that time
I think he must have said that I'm
Man of your hallucination
I will visit you every night
Oh! And without your permission
Only just to enjoy your fright
When I try to fair submission
Beauty and the beast can
Only fall in love in
A place just like Iran
Where you can make that sin
But we're in Tunisia baby
And you cannot dominate me
I mean I can love you maybe
But I will not sit on my knee
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 1:24 PM UTC