"damien" poems
**Whether it happens next... or this year
The vote
In memory of the last time I shed 'this tear'
And wrote... a piece
For the blood that flooded the streets
When in vain we sought
For calm... for peace
In a situation that was out of our control
A raging fire that almost engulfed and burnt all
When we all watched our motherland fall
Almost
When darkness threatened to blind all... or most...
Kenyans
When a neighbour would suddenly become a stranger... a ghost
Alien
Incited by the devil's seed
Damien
Brothers, sisters overcome by evil... greed
The same one...
That would then start a war... civil
And feed... off it
I, one individual Kenyan plead
That this time we say no to violence
We 'off it'
Let the disgruntled nurse his frustrations in silence
No blood for 'office'
And let us not get coaxed into foolish acts
To ourselves, we owe this
Let hatchets be buried away with the bones
Old ghosts can't haunt us
I shed a tear for peace this... or next year
Deaf ear to he that tries to taunt us
'Make the right choice'
I hope I reach many
And many hear my one voice
But this message cannot just be spread by me... so its 'we'
We can do it, and God wills it
Let it be
That we journey toward serenity
To a better tomorrow... come with me
The best way I can encourage my brothers and sisters
Is through poetry
For as a country and a culture we are destined to soar sky high
Thus... 'the pride of Africa'
We should always be
Peace.**
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 5:20 AM UTC
Sitting here watching you
sleep
Wondering if your dreams are
sweet
Knowing you'll always be mommies
baby boy
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
I turned the corner, entering the Italian sculpture collection at Le Louvre, delighting in the smells and quiet sounds of the museum. I walked slowly down the creaking wood floored corridor, ignoring the Dirce, the Nymph and the Scorpion, till I came to Antonio Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.
I gazed at it lazily, longingly, savoring its sensuality, love, and tenderness. It was beautiful, beyond belief, exquisite. It evoked so many emotions, to the point of being overwhelming. I stared at it, losing myself, in time and reverie, wishing I could love and be loved with such intensity.
“It’s beautiful, “I heard a feminine whisper in my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. “Yes,” I replied, slowly, instinctively, coming out of my trance, and turning towards the voice.
Our eyes met, locked, I couldn’t look away, as if bewitched, her incandescent blue eyes fathomless, tender, worldly, looking, seeing deep into my soul. I could feel her in me, like a new born kitten exploring every nook and cranny. It was slightly unnerving, knowing she could wander, at will, unfettered, and yet calming, even comforting.
As I regained my sense, I recognized her and stared, incredulously, until she said, softly, sweetly, “je m’appelle Seraphine.”
She moved in a bit closer, cocking her head towards my right ear, and whispered, “It is my favorite, it's so tender and passionate, the way he holds her, kisses her, the way only a god could.” I noted her tone, the way she said it, with such confidence, as if she knew, from experience, what it was like, to be kissed, loved, by a god.
She gently pulled back a bit, looked me in the eyes, like a child looking at a puppy. She was beautiful, preternaturally beautiful, a paragon, goddess like. I just stared at her in awe.
“I think we’ve seen each other around Paris”, she said softly, smiling, “and may have bumped into each other in the Metro.” “Yes, I think we have,” I replied, as she extended her right hand, as a queen would, to a knight. I didn’t know if I should kneel and kiss her hand, or shake it. I took her hand in mine, it was soft, warm, moist. I could feel her youth, femininity, life in her hand. I shook it, gently, stopped, slightly released my grip, our hands slid apart, touching, sliding, caressing down our fingers, stopping ever so slightly at the tips, before releasing. The ecstasy of her touch. I longed for more. I heard her sigh, my eyes moved from her hand, to her lips, finally to her eyes. I smiled and said, almost in a whisper, “Je m’appelle Damien.”
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
It was silent as Chelsea crept into the room
There I lay, nestled to sleep with a teddy bear
The moonlight on my back, soothing light
She awoke me violently, shaking me ashen
And my eyes widened in terror at her face
It didn't take long for her to find something
A tool to suit the job, my punishment
I was a bad sister, always was I wrong
So she found a pair of shoes, my shoes
And I braced for the nightly beating
But Chelsea had something else in mind
As she removed the lace from one of them
She gripped an end in each hand, staring
And she moved on top of me, saying;
"I hate you, stupid attention *****
She placed the string over my throat
And she pressed down very hard, frowning
I felt my airway constrict, and I struggled
She put her knees on my elbows in anger
And my begging made her push harder
As I began to see gray, I remember a tear
But not the many that I released, I know
Because I felt it patter onto my dying face
And I sputtered and arched my back, hoping
And Chelsea only pressed harder, murderous
As I drifted out of consciousness, I heard
My brothers voice, sweet brother Damien
And he slapped Chelsea and pulled her off
As I curled up and breathed delicious air
And he caressed my face, and hugged me
That night acted as a catalyst for hatred
And within myself I bred a monster
But I suppose I cannot give credit for
My mistakes, to the true genesis of pain
I just haven't found anything else to blame
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC
"It's just one cut,"
said the sharp lady doctor before language
melted off her clipboard and the operating lamps
grew huge and spilled their bright innards into my eyes.
I lay on the cold tiled floor of the museum.
One monstrous cut -- the white shark suspended
above in a last hungry lunge yawns, belly open.
Around me what a wide-eyed fisherman pulled out:
old tires, whale-oil lamps, Damien Hirst, bones upon bones.
Damien sits on a tire, bored as hell. See the jagged edges,
he says, they pulled him into our cold afterlife
and cut while he suffocated, explosive oxygen flooding
his lungs from the wrong direction.
Later, the doctors showed me
what had for so long kicked and screamed to be out.
Liver-colored, swollen, wrapped in catgut, it was not
as expected. Others had promised ground seaglass,
poppyseed freckles, huge lungs like fibrous balloons
for flying or spouting poetry nonstop in day-long stretches.
Where were my eyes?
It was supposed to have my eyes.
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
In a busy town
In massachusetts
there is this college
BCC
At this cozy college
there are 8 buildings
But one has capture my heart completly
G BUILDING
Walk through the sliding glass doors
Around the corner
through the lunch room
To the Dinning hall
Noise assult my ears
Beeping video games
shouts of triumph
Kpop and metal music
Tables littered with playing cards
Yugioh
Pokemon
Magic
People as different as can be
From all corners of the social spectrum
Popular
and geeks
Join together in a crazy dance
A swirling brightly colored tango
Joined together
by mutal intrest
Riker, dear Riker
puple fadora ever present
My "Co-Pimp"
a founding father of the trolling company
Damien, Oh damien
Your strangness growing stranger
Your hair of deception
Another founding father
Jose, Dear Lord Jose
You're pervertenss proceeds you
Cat calling
Video gaming
Holly, sweet Holly
Looking innocent and sweet
Masking your wildness
underneath
Nathan, My Naten
My best friend through the ages
Opinions flying
Jungle juice by your side
Casey, My sweet sweet Casey
Ghost story devourer
Trusting you with my secrets
Everyone's little sister
John, John of the lake
Annoying as hell
but loveble all the same
only kind things to say
Josh, Or should I say Shoji
Big Brother
Laptop out
Video game in
Matt, My lovely Matt
This is where we met
Fate intervined
brought us together
This is where I belong
This island of misfits
This G building gang
This is my home.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
The River Runs Deep
by Damien Johnson
The River
runs
deep.
Running
forever.
Yet.
Always there,
always...
here,
with me.
A million
miles
away,
no matter,
if its a smile,
or a kiss.
I wade
so far,
that the current
picks me up,
and carries me
out to sea.
An
ocean of our
love.
For you,
you are my
River.
Gracious.
Furious.
Unrelenting.
And
forever.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC
As I sit staring at the "fasten seatbelt" light overhead
I can feel the endless possibilities of places I could go, people I could meet.
Today you asked me "you feel miserable here a lot don't you?"
You've never been more right.
And as I sit here on this **** plane in your **** sweatshirt I wonder if you know.
I wonder if you know how scared I am
of all the opportunities the fasten seatbelt light brings me.
Of all the opportunities you bring me.
I swear the way you look at me
while I'm in the passenger seat of your beat up car
on the way to the dinner that you'll buy me
and I'll pretend not to care about
is the same way I look at Columbia and blank notebooks.
The possibilities and beautiful what-ifs are spelled out
in the whites, blacks, and multiples shades of brown in your eyes.
And I am thinking to myself how beautiful this fasten your seat belt light is
but I am also thinking of how beautiful you are
and how you've never been given the chances or opportunities you deserve.
So as I sit here stirring in my just barely big enough seat
I am feeling things that not even the damien rice in my ears can suppress.
I am seeing every beautiful night I spent wishing I never had to go home.
I'm seeing all the miles you put on just wanting to talk to me a little longer.
I'm seeing the way you nod your head back and forth
and tap on your steering wheel to the beat
of your latest favorite pop punk song.
And I am seeing the tremble in my knee that you don't notice
when you say that my laugh instantly makes you smile
because in all reality every waking moment I spent frowning at you
was because I was hoping that if I convinced myself
that we were no good then you would believe it too.
I realize all these things as I sit in seat 20E
on a delayed flight to Orlando
and all I want to do is parachute down to whatever tiny
secluded unknown cafe you're spending your evening jamming
to a local set of bands drinking something fruity you've never tried before.
And just like that drink I want to run down your throat
to the deepest parts of your gut
and permeate through your blood stream.
I want to run like oxygen infused flames through your system.
I'm still sitting in this cramped seat on damien song number five
staring at this fasten seatbelt light and all the possibilities
and I just have one thing to say: fasten your seatbelt with me.
Fasten your seatbelt and see all the possibilities that I see.
Fasten your seat belt and move three states closer to that dream
you've been dreaming since we were neighbors on that worn down block
where we learned to hate our parents.
Fasten your seatbelt and run away with me.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
I am actually a huge fan of Banksy and thoroughly enjoyed Dismaland but the A level kids I teach at a school just down the road from Weston couldn't get in because they've got Art P2. We wrote letters and sent emails but had no reply. They were very disillusioned by it all so their art teacher decided to take them to Dismaland and show some of their work on the grass outside. Security were not impressed and called the police. We made a film about it and I read this poem at the gates. This is the first part.
So this is where this tale will start,
Of What is Banksy? Who is art?
You're the joke now, don't you see?
This ****** ticket lottery,
For crazy cats who play the rules
Not you poor buggers stuck in schools
Can’t press refresh at the stroke of ten
Cos that's exactly the time when
the bell rings for art to begin
The irony is lost on him.
No tickets in your grubby hand
Cos schools cant afford the broadband.
Don't look at me with dismal faces
You lot sure are going places
Yep, you're all sat on a train
Going to weston in the rain
Who do you lot think you are?
No movie queens nor a rock star
You don't fly in from LA
You don't even have a card to pay
No Damien's, No Brad. No Suze.
Pack up your dreams kids,
Born to lose.
Like a load of buckets to the factory gate
Where we'll have to stand and stand and wait
He is not Wonka, he's not your friend,
This Charlie gets nothing in the end.
So looks like we might not get in,
Stare them down kids, take ours to him.
Banksy Inc. has made these choices,
But they can't silence all our voices.
Helllooooooo Banksy?
Are you there?
Going to show these kids you care?
Open up those hallowed portals
For this lot of mere mortals?
They've brought stuff they want to show
It's really very good you know
Because they made it from the heart
Not for a calendar of street art
You know? Like how you used to be?
Before they showed you on TV.
They protest about stuff for reals,
And soon be snapping at the heels
Of all the London folk in there
Sell for a million but pretend they care.
Come on Banksy they'll be good
Take their selfies like they should.
Come on Banksy, just be nice,
They'll snap up all your merchandise
And shuffle round the park like drones
Take out pocket money loans.
Listen kids, this isn't working,
Banksy's in his rolls and shirking,
We don't need to storm the walls
We can show them we've got *****
By standing here and giving free
What they've all spent five quid to see.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
they say that bronze was
the prime component in
the *Equestrian Statue of
Marcus Aurelius*, or the
stone of the Ajanta Caves
in India, but will my skin
keep me alive? I once said
something interesting in
a classroom in regards to
immortality, when a girl
picked out the flaws in
For the Love of God a
piece by Damien Hirst.
It seems to say that we must realize our mortality
but do skeletons not last
the ravage of time? Exactly
what part of us is mortal
aside from our skin, first?
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
It was past 10 pm
Indian Standard Time
And the score was
Two O Five
Klusener was the launcher
Donald was the Duck
Hansie had the fancy
That he will lift the cup
Seconds ticking
One, two, three, four, five…
Damien Fleming’s the bowler
And he’s known as a troller
Windies was the victim
Eight years ago
Steve Waugh!
The man who made Gibbs drop the cup
Stood there
Like a commander
Klusener like a slaughterer
Yorker’s the marker
To stop the nine runs needed
From the Klusener blade
NOW THE LAST OVER
ONE went for a four
TWO went for a four
Tensions flared up
We are on the proverbial Edge-of-the-seat
Steve stood there
No expression on his face
Hansie's in the pavilion
Like a warrior king
THE THIRD BALL
Damien's running like he do
Yes, bang on target
Klusener's couldn't get it off
Like the way in his earlier knocks off
One run needed in three
Just a recap again
Final over
last pair together
nine to get in six *****
player of the tournament on strike
Successive fours from Lance Klusener
and it was one from four *****
Then came the comedy
for South Africa uniquely in the game's annals
the tragedy of a tie.
Moments before it
Steve Waugh was
As cold as an Iceberg
To the Titanic of South Africa
(To be continued in next part)
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
Daisy (12:57 AM): Please please please...
Daisy (1:02 AM): I was laying down earlier, and without asking me any sort of permission, the image of Nathan with some other girl in his arms, in his room, laughing smiling, the whole idea came vividly to mind, and it crushed. It felt like someone stood on my chest and stomped. My computer was making aim noises and I didn't want to talk to anyone, I got up anyway. Now it's later, and I've shoved the thought from my mind. Now I'm alone, everyone's gone to sleep, my hair is clean, I'm alone. Damien Rice's voice pours out my speaker and my eyes overflow. I guess once I finally thought I was really really over him, it had to come back and hit me in the face. I'm so sick of sounding so stupid. It doesn't even make sense,
Daisy (1:03 AM): I shouldn't be tied to him after everything. My soul is crushed.
Daisy (1:06 AM): Sobs reach up my throat and sneak out of my mouth, filling the air, thick with sorrow, like fog. Like cigarette smoke, like smog, from thousands of cars. Why is it that i have to suffer like this for one who left me so abruptly. "I still think about you every day that passes." He said to me, and i probably believed it. He doesn't know, and thinks everything I say is some stupid dream, he answers me skeptically and full of scorn. I could scream, with my back arched in pain. Let all I ever had to say come out of me in one fluid motion.
Daisy (1:11 AM): These are answers I'll never get. Learn to live like your very own bone marrow has been stripped from you. Week and empty.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 12:13 AM UTC
**** the f... communists
if there is anyone f... left
**** the f... capitalists
at least it's going to be a f... mass ******
**** the f… politicians
**** the f… priests
**** the f… pirates
**** the f… presidents
**** the f… French
**** the f… mujahedins
**** the f… terrorists
**** your f… stylish youth
**** the f… classical sentences like f… the Police
F… the Police
**** the f… Police
**** your f… self
**** the f… sun
**** the f… Damien Hirst
**** the f… moon
**** the f… Warhols
even dead and then again
for every f… 15 minutes!
**** your f… life and **** your f… death
**** the f… lesbians and the f… gays too
**** the f… Beethoven’s f… music
**** all the f... families
**** the f… lies
**** the f… truth
**** the f… God
**** the f… Devil
**** the f… carrots and the f… *******
**** the f… punks!
**** f… everything and everyone
**** the f... stars on earth and in the f... sky
**** the f... TV and the f... TV hosts
**** the f… ******
**** the f… Jews
**** the f… Christians
**** the f… poets
**** the f… pets
**** the f… children
**** the f… laws and the f… lawns
**** your f… hope and f… guts
**** every f… creature on this f… planet
**** the f… planet
**** the f… DNA and all of the f… stem cells
**** the f… techno and the f… folk music now!
**** the f… DJ and f… Ozzy
**** the f… Americans
**** the f… vegetarian and every f… hippie
**** the f… meat eaters too
**** the f… humour
**** for the f… God’s sake and mine
**** the f… zeitgeist
**** the f… good and the f... bad behaviour
**** the f… Buddha and the f… Buddhism
**** my f… ****
**** the f… Justin Biebers f… **** too
**** every f… ****** ****** dead or alive
Dig up every f... dead Ku Klux Clan member
and **** them f… again and again
**** your f… good taste
Your f… self-righteous thinking
Your f… good morals
Your f… delicate philosophical views
**** every f… thing I forgot to f… mention
**** the f… you
F… you all
F… You!
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
The main reason I've tried around five new recipes a week
and all of a sudden enjoy cooking
and the reason I've bitten my nails down to bone
and texted my good friends way too many times
fragmented and weeping with questions
and the reason I've listened to podcasts minute after minute
and audiobooks
and ******* Damien Rice's creepy voice saying the words **** you
over and over again
and have a wishlist on every overpriced bohemian rag site
and entered multiple contests guessing Bon Jovi's lyrics
to win 50 dollars to Applebees
and the reason I drink red white and blue ****** can after can
after hours that end with "AM"
and the reason I don't feel like hearing my client's problems
and catch myself in fantasies about running away or climbing up into trees and staying there for months
and the reason I go to angry slam poetry events by myself
and watch Sarah Silverman crying on the television
and snorting coke
or scrub my gums until they bleed
to taste the iron with those perfectly prepared meals
I even thought about joining a meetup group
instead I just met up with my therapist and noticed she's wearing the same sweater I am
What the hell is she going to be able to do for me?
Take my seventy dollars and run
and I keep edibles harbored in the corner of my cheek
saving the ounces for the most destitute of moments
when I hear I have to eat lunch with my in-laws at Red Robin
and be blinded by their white supremacy
That's when I get ****** as ****
and find it all funny
and the reason I sprint into the woods at night and look up at the stars
sweaty and haunted
and the reason I keep "getting lost" on my way home from work
and stalk my ex-boyfriend's babies on Facebook
and wet the pages of Charles Bukowski
and then watch his documentary and scream at the TV in horror
and the reason I buy bags and bags of peanut butter stuffed pretzels
and my laugh sounds unnervingly different every day, as if my role keeps changing from **** to lesbian to raging feminist to kitschy wife lover to Eskimo to poet
is due to the fact that I am in a long distance relationship with my own life
my own soul
my screaming energy and robustness
my color
and craving.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
Jax,Lily,Flawless,Marta,Dr.Shweta,Shiv,Neeraj,Dg.
Emeka,Miss,Jules,Bridgett,Salim, Joceyn,memoona.
Sampreeta,daud,Stephanie,Grace,No name,Eloisa.
Hijenduanao,Kauthar,Damien,Joye,Marta,Narendra.
Jolene, Perry, Freebird,Surbhi,Godawan,Ikimi,tm,
Xaela,try,S Nirmal,Astrea,Erin,Mindless,Lace,HB.
AP,Timur,Kasidee,Caterra,the untold,Melancholy.
Melanie,mckenzie, clark,beebz,sherri,bryan,bakunawa.
khaliyah,brianna,Ay2brutus,Angel-like,Maxx,Lure ***
Mike, me zeal, Kim,Kim,Maeiby,Shanath,Marshall,xallan.
Weeping Willow,Mike Hauser,Serena,AnnMarie,DavidLewis.
JenniferJohnson, itgonnamakesense,Mike Essiq,Nancy.
Olivia,Paul,Mark,Phil,PoetressBhumi and Wilyam Pax.
Here some more love you all, I pray that you are blessed.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
I AM
Equality, Art, Doom
I feel like nature and humanity are interconnected
Fairness, isolation, and kindness are important to me
Only true love is in your head.
Isolation can be bad, but it's needed sometimes
I'm ready for the end.
Only Damien can heal my pain.
I want to be free
I AM
Reagan
2017
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
In the midst of today's stormy chaos, she forgot to bring her binder to school, the track names on the Damien Rice mix, and how to act miserable around him.
It seems everyone knows about everything.
The boyfriend.
Her rebellious plot.
She woke up
On the not quite
Normal
Side of the bed.
"Let's revolt,"
She thinks.
"Let's be pirates sailing
The universe, stealing
Stars
As we float
Amongst contellations
Perhaps Andromeda wouldn't
Need her chains
Anymore."
She dreamt she blended in with the walls.
& he was frustrated
& the girl was smiling
She watched them as they left
Together
Walking down the road
Then she tore herself from
The wall
& walked in the opposite direction.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 1:53 AM UTC
1.) Out of the one thousand and ninety-nine days that you were mine, I only regret three of them. The day Brian ***** me on that pool table, the day your dad moved back to Italy and I didn't come over, and the day you put yourself into this hellish suicide coma.
2.) If truth or dare turned two little girls into temporary lesbians, than so be it. Honestly, nothing ever tasted sweeter than you on that night on the bathroom counter at Tim's.
3.) I will grow up to be incredibly cultured all because of you. I learned to look outside the social norm after our late night dates on the roof. Getting high in your lap as you read me poetry, and played me Damien Rice's The Professor & La Fille Danse on repeat was more than enough.
4.) I always thought you were tradition and I was your French Revolution. But now I'm seeing that I was the revolution, and you were the revelation.
5.) You could not sing a single god ****** note. But the only thing I want to hear is your squeaky voice serenading me with our song right now. I promise I won't be annoyed, just finish chorus with me one more ******* time.
6.) I would have helped you get to your father. I would have helped you. I would have set your mother on fire to avoid this.
7.) I threw up when I got sams phone call about what you had done. And then I screamed at him for an hour.
8.) I won't ask how could you do this to me, because right now I want to do it to you.
9.) Thank you for punching Brian, and I'm sorry you got fired, and I'm sorry your dad left, and I'm sorry your mom hit you, and I'm sorry that I could not kidnap you and bring you to our own private island in the middle of no wear.
10.) You showed me what star you'd become when you died, and told me that if I wished on it you would do your best. I know absolutely nothing about astrology and constellations. But your star is the one thing I find faster than the moon in every night sky.
11.) The last sip of every bottle of ***** I will ever have, will always taste like the last kiss we shared.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Mark Kozelek sang about it for his first album as Sun Kil Moon, to remind himself of lost loves.
So did Modest Mouse, probably in a methed-out spark of inspiration.
And Neil Young, immortalizing Kent State.
And Damien Jurado, going back to love.
What is the draw for Ohio? Is it the landscape? The memories? The people?
A couple of friends of mine moved there not long after getting married.
She is from Cincinatti, he's from Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
Oh, Ohio! Maybe one day I'll visit you to try to understand your lure
Why so many musicians write about you
But I'll have to come in the late spring or summer, otherwise
Your winters will be a ***** for this Louisiana boy.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Do you remember what you told me
When I asked you if you'd catch me
If I fell for you?
I expected you to say you would.
But you said you wouldn't catch me,
That you couldn't catch me.
Because you'd be falling too.
You said we would fall together.
And boy, did we fall.
We plummeted, descended
Deeper and deeper
In love, and lust, and passion.
InstaChem we called it.
Instant chemistry from the moment we met.
Completely enveloped in each other
Convinced there was no one else better suited for the other.
And I'm still convinced of that.
It's been two years since we broke up,
Since I broke up with you,
But I'm still convinced.
You've got a new girl now,
But she's not your real girlfriend.
Just just a filler and we both know that.
Just like the substitutes I've had.
You still sleep over occasionally.
And it's still great.
We escape reality for a night,
Pretending like we're right back in love.
Cannonball by Damien Rice was our song
It's not hard to fall, when you float like a cannonball
But now, Heartbeat by Childish Gambino better suits us
*Are we dating? Are we ******* Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?*
I've been thinking of you a lot lately.
And I know you've been thinking of me too.
I wish we could go back to how we used to be.
I want to belong to you again, and you to me.
But we fell apart and I broke your heart.
I know you'll never fully be able to forgive me.
And I know we will never be whole again,
But I know we will be together in the end.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
The worst part of a funeral is not the sombre faces,
Nor the awkwardness of people
Who know not how to be at such a time,
It's not the heavy sense of sadness and loss
That permeates the air or the brash jollity of those
Who over compensate,
It's not standing to eulogise my friend
In so few minutes
When he was so vibrant and ALIVE,
Nor seeing in my mind's eye his face
As he lay recumbent in the coffin's cushioned dark
And airless embrace,
Not the sobs that came in public as I sat
After giving his farewell my all,
My first eulogy and sadly probably not my last,
No, the worst, the most awful thing was the wet thump
Of roses red falling on his coffin lid,
I tossed a handful of dry earth,
It sounded better,
Seemed more fitting,
An example followed by others,
A better more respecttful
And indeed final fare well,
Rest now Damien
Rest in peace
I will see you soon enough
Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
Freddy Krueger once held a poker night
He invited Count Dracula to add some bite
Many others were invited too, told not to be late
Eight o'clock prompt or he'd decide their fate
Game was probably rigged, Freddy had his own pack
Taking care of the drinks was Egor with his hunchback
No need for any money, instead they used body parts
Fingers and toes worth less, and the most were hearts
Even a couple of lepers came to try their luck
Every hand they were dealt just seemed to ****
Couldn't get any decent cards and Freddy started to scoff
One threw his hand in and the other laughed his head off
Devil himself even turned up to check on the fun
Not a good card player, and soon he was done
Gremlins, ghouls and ghosts left in despair
Best they could muster was a miserable pair
Damien lasted a little longer, but he also did break
Slammed the door shut as he went back to the lake
It seemed only the Count and Freddy were ahead
The rest were all broke, including the Living Dead
Count said "Hurry up and bet Freddy, you are no card shark"
Freddy replied "Doubt if I can win but I'll take a stab in the dark"
They both turned over their cards and Freddy started to cry
Dracula had won, and he had ****** Freddy Krueger dry
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
“Quiet” he says, its easier when I’m quiet,
But how can I be quiet when he’s stabbing at me.
“Breathe” he says, its easier when I breathe,
But how can I breathe with a hand gripping my neck.
“Smile” he says, its easier when I smile,
But how can I smile when he’s shattering my innocence.
“Moan” he says, its easier when I moan,
But how can I moan when my whole body is screaming in pain.
“Beg” he says, its easier when I beg,
But how can I beg when I want his hands off my body.
“Cry” he says, its easier when I cry,
But how can I cry when I know that’s what he enjoys.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
today i caught myself not
thinking about you for longer than
one heart beat. i was fooled.
had been completely engrossed
in a conversation with a judge
inside my mind, you're standing
across from me and our apocalypse
is here! she asks
me what i mean, she
hates my people but loves
my pedigree. if she asked you
what you thought of me would
you do right by jesus christ?
what rogue elixir could ever tie
the tubes before your embryonic
lies come spewing out onto this
relentless carboniferous slice of
spinning lava?
parasites
just like your guns,
you reckless bandit.
just like your sons,
a leech on the planet.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
As I look over my first year of high school,
all I can remember
is this
BURNING
sadness.
It throbs in my chest, robbing my lungs of air and causing my mind to slide in a downward spiral.
I remember the yelling.
I remember the panic.
I remember the sorrow coursing through my veins, inching between my bones until it filled every last inch of me.
I remember the cuts, most of all.
But I also remember my friends.
I remember Navleen.
I remember Eunice.
I remember Damien and Kylee
I remember Kayleigh and Humera.
I remember the jokes, the silly conversations, the laughter.
I remember the stupidity that is the teenager's mind.
It's one of our last shots at being kids.
We want to take it.
But...
You
Won't
Let
Us...
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC