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Why am I so dif-fer-ent?
They say I’m out of touch.
Why am I, ple-nar-ily sad?
This life it hurts so much.
And why do they come, come every day?
Shush, quiet now, they’re here.
Those awful tormentors of my soul all cackling and queer!
Whirling head of spinning revolutions,
…feel my stomach ache and pang.
Why will they not leave me alone?
This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang.

I shouldn’t always feel like this, feel such solemn pain,
…troubling and trouble is these birds are driving me insane!
I’m screaming now! I’m mad with rage! Throwing ice cubes at my deck,
“Go away! Yes, go away!” -their numbers must be kept in check.
Blackhole-whirl, flying twirling darkness, their funnel it points to me-e-e-e-!
For too many is too painful and my mind’s a constant wreck!
One cannot think with those infernal be-e-e-asts,
...and the crazy song they sang.
Why do they so punish me?
The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang.

I know they serve the Saturn’s wheel and now they’ve come for me.
What did I do? Oh what great sin, oh the blackbirds from within;

The Abyssimal Sea?

Their whirlpool funnel is all around, as my harried soul, it expiates.
I’m done-in; I’m over now, a sorely victim of the Fates!
They took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang.
Why could they not leave me alone?
The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang.

If you find yourself all alone and mired in their thought,
…do not think, extirpate, all the human damage that you’ve wrought.
His flock of fledgling melancholy musical formation,
…will take you away and straight to Hell; the Seventh Circle congregation!
For they took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang.
And they will not leave you alone.
This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang.
The primary reason I came to Hello Poetry is that every single publishing house I could find on the internet rejected every poem I sent them. Since my work is deemed to be worth nothing I gave it all to you for free. It seems that in a digital world where people can share this easily there will always be more content available for free than for a fee. One would think publishers would know this. I have seen some seriously good poetry here and some pieces that are extraordinary.
Amanda Sep 2012
My braided faded bracelet
Is hidden in a box
Always there to remind me
Of something that I lost

My braided faded bracelet
The colors now so light
I found they weren't long lasting
Just like my feelings that blurry night

My braided faded bracelet
Came from a man
That I barely knew
But that might've been the plan

My braided faded bracelet
From that man, he knew
That I wasn't ready
Even though I wanted to

My braided faded bracelet
What it means they'll never know
Because I know what they will say
They'll say I told you so

My braided faded bracelet
A sign I'm one with the rest
Heard your first is never good but I
Thought I'd be different
wordvango Mar 2015
hoochie ******* man, Bruh Rabbit
a trickster be def....
takes a dif form on dif days
on the 7th day of the 7th month with 700 dolla's
don't ever mess around
taking the form of Pops he stole the fire
from Prometheous, who
stole it too
a coyote
Raven
like Jacob from the Bible,
Questions of is he messenger or Messiah
teaching wisdom or teasing
stories
'bout mojo black cat bones
or hoochie ******* mamas
Meteo Aug 2015
Myths

They were not statues
and now you see what they see
looking back at you


Man

Her tongue, was so sharp
dissevers men from their ******
kisses them goodnight!

Our blind date went well
Next time leave my mask at home,
and her eyes attached.

Scratched, stained, double locked.
Basement corner, light bulb off.
Refrigerator.

Won't let him hurt you.
I promise, now go and hide,
Daddy is coming...

I don't remember,
I keep having these blackouts.
Sorry I hurt you.


Movie

Make-out Point, moonlight...
Turn their car radio on,
leave my hook behind.

50 ft. Woman,
dreams of a fifty foot world.
Curse my two left feet.

Empty, shiny man
His axe hacks you limb from limb
You hear a heartbeat

Wound too tight, tied down
Whisper lies, impale your skull
What is a real boy?

"Last person on earth,
dif'rent faces in mirror."
- Frankenstein's Monster


Miscellaneous

appeared as a zit
it grew, no concern for it
it spoke! *******!

Lamprey fingertips
Coarse hair on infected tongue
Lotus seed ******

My beast sounds like love,
vanity to a monster,
hero to a ghost.

from Horrors Grotesque,
the existential monster
fears little carpals.
“Vehicular Favouritism”

Opinion is how to know the best kind,
        What preference hath thee of the best car?
For best may be based on the ****ny find,
        Is best not simply what takes thee so far?
The sights we see attract thine eye of gold,
        Why pay unemployable hope and dream?
The best is but the one in heart found bold,
        Doth it raise heart and soul? Or self-esteem?
The ride you find to be at utmost high,
Is this the one that you daily befriend?
May it differ how thine neighbor doth fly,
Do you favour the ones they recommend?
Think of this thought now short-- which is the best?
Four wheels and an engine-- matter the rest?
-- Jacob Dexter Coffey --
Harris Butt Nov 2014
What started out as just a little wish
Can be something that sets a goal for life
The feeling of achievement's like a dish
That tastes so good and made from such a wife

A man must work his hardest to achieve
And strive for greatness like his idols did
But failure will cause man despair and leave
Resulting in a dream lost by a kid

A will so strong that shall not ever break
Will guide a way through all the thoughts and doubts
Though risks and chances are what is at stake
May also lead to many dif'rent rowts

Impossible through most of eyes would seem
For such a great success a man can dream
Ken Pepiton Aug 2022
The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.
Homework, listen again to Braiding Sweetgrass.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Bro  ken  Po     ems
a re of  ten  dif   fi cult
to  co   mpr e h en  d


B    ut ..... .... .. .
So ar e
b  ro  k  enh  e  ar  ts
bro ke np r o  mi se s
            a n d
b r ok   end   re am s
ruby stains Feb 2015
i like the typ<e tha?t's
dif}feren\t th=an
me in every way and
fo ^rm * (it'll h_]urt
le.ss if th-ey hu"rt me
'cause:: i know *if that
were m'e//, i neve:/r w
ould'a done it) ,


i like the type that'll
always make me la
ug
h ev%en whe^n i can't
bre##athe (even though
it'd bu
rn and const
rict,
that, right the+re, wo[u
ld be h ea v)en).

i like the type that won't ob
s
e_ss over me as i obs@ess
ov$er the m;(wouldn't wann
a put 'em throu
gh that kin*da
m is e r      ,y.)
this is getting worse.
(honestly i wanted to make this sweet, but it just never happened)
KRRW Aug 2017
Your time
Is
Move
Ing



Your Heart
Is
Beat
Ing



The clock
Is
Tick
Ing



What Are
You
Do
Ing



What Are
You
Wait
Ing



Your time
Is
Run
Ning



Go catch
It
Hur
Ry



You're Dy
Ing
Slow
Ly



Tic
Toc
Tic
Toc



Lub
Dub
Lub
Dub



Up
Down
L­eft
Right



Too
Loose
Too
Tight



Live
Die
Crawl
Fly



Old
You­ng
Will
Die



Soon
Er
Late
R



Do
You
Feel
It



Hate
It
Fear
I­t



Fight
It
To
Death



Fight
A
Gainst
Death



Can
You
Do
It

­Will
You
Win



Or
Stop
Think
In
Not
A
Gain



What Makes
It
Dif
Fer



To Breath
While
Stare
Ing



Do
Ing
No
Thing



Keep
Time
Go
Ing



­Is This
Live
Ing



No
I
Think



Do
You
Think



We
Drink
We
Smoke
­


We Made
Love
We Broke



We Drugged
And We Bragged



We Sped Up
The Clock



We ****
And We ****
Keep Repeatin
The Crap



Oh But
Your ****
Isn't A
Nice ***



You Gave
Your Body
You Get A
Free Pass



We End Up
Racing
We Sleep Up
*******



We Live
Like Hell
In A World
Like Heaven



We Did
Much Fun
Is It Quite Worth
The Run?



What Have
You Done?



Nothing,
Next To None



We All Bought
Money
Money Bought All
We



We Became All Free
But Nothing Was Free



Count One To Three
Are We Alive Yet



We All Rot Together
Are We Not Dead Yet?
Written
17 November 2014

Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
XIII Nov 2019
I am different
I don't stutter
I don't talk of trivial things
My vocabulary is darker

I am under six feet plus deep
I shout out of abyss
I am just the iceberg's tip
What you see is just a tease

Don't put me in the pedestal
I am not a saint
Nor God's nor Lucifer's
Neither in between

So if you ever play of possibilities
Stop
You can't contain this
Overwhelming miseries is where you'll end up

Because unless you learn how to write
A poet will only write of what glorifies him
Unless you learn how to fight a battle of rhymes
You'll always be the immortal killer; not the victim

Because I speak of words lost in the Tower of Babel
But you will never ever understand
'Cause yes, I am an angel
But a fallen one
© Cepheus February 15, 2019
The Good Pussy Dec 2014
.
                              How
                          is ***  like
                      math?  Half the
                    time I  get an o d d
                     result. If  my  han
                     ds  aren't  enough
                     I end  up  using m
                     y  head.  I  always
                     wonder  how  the
                     person next to me
                     is doing on  his w
                     ork.My average at
                     each is p retty  dis
                     mal.What's the dif
                     ference between a
                     cheap ****** and
                     an elephant?  One
                     rolls  on  it's  b ack
                     for   peanuts   and
                     the  other one live
                     s in a zoo.   Why is
                     *** like air? It's no
                     t a big thing  unles
                     s you're  not gettin
                     g any .  What  do y
                     ou call a man with
   a 1 inch *****?                 Justin.   I was hanging out in an         Internet cafe when
my server went              down on me. I like
my women like               I like my math
problems - simple           and easy
Stupid *****!
Ties myself to the trees
Ropes tightened around my wrists and feet
Throw a rock on the gas petal rip my body apart
Have my intestines and blood stain the trunk of my car
Take me to the black room at the back of the rave
Stick four needles in each pupil let me feel all of that pain
I'd rather take a knife cut off my finger tips
Stick em in lemon juice stinging like acid
Watch my blood dilute the yellowish liquid
I'd rather **** myself then to ever live
Put the pistol to my temple give myself what i deserve
I know my own worth that's why i wanna die in the dirt
These demons they're yelling, whispering to me.
Speaking of things i have already seen. Telling me that it's okay to sleep. Knowing i see dead faces in my dreams. Lately my nightmares have been changing. ****** features of the figments rearranging. Went from older bro to two girls to one girl to nothing. Thinking of them my chest I'm clutching
So what is it this figment this dark shadowy figure. Mister miss me lately call you when you're crazy. Let me know when you're happy so i can bring the rain please. Let me crawl inside your head just to lay eggs of sadness you see. This shadowy figure is embodiment of depression to me
Words, words, words, words let me show you what they do. Tell me I'm worthless leave me battered and bruised. By pronouns and adjectives. Making me feel a whole lot Dif-ferent. The bottle of ***** in ya locker that you sip so casually. Seems to be the only vice i have that i see. Your image and reflection in this shot glasses i drink from. Makes me feel like i won't reach kindgom come. Maybe I'm Destined for hell in a 1 by 1 foot cell.
Fill up my bathtub with ******* water and a couple bottles of ***** then. I can sip a little bit while i start pondering. Feeling like sunday night dreading life like monday morning. Only thoughts i really have are of gruesome demons eating me slowly. Make me want to crawl to the kitchen and use a knife to feel a little more "holy". Funny how you used to shove jesus down my throat. Now I'm cursing him with blood guzzling out my throat.
Dark shadows envelope me
Wrapped a noose around my neck so i couldn't breathe
Depression was a drug to me like ecstasy
Tightened the noose i still don't wanna be
**** living without a meaning worthless never been worth ****
Depression hit me like a train knocked me off the chair now my limp body is hanging in the air
I'd rather sleep in the alleyways
Drink till I'm in a daze
Smoke till my mind is hazed
Cut till i don't ******* bleed
Drowning till i can't ******* breathe
All the memories start to fade day after ******* day
Run out into traffic just to take the pain away
This is basically a poem i wrote trying to show you what it was like in my head.
Cepheus Feb 2019
I am different
I don't stutter
I don't talk of trivial things
My vocabulary is darker

I am under six feet plus deep
I shout out of abyss
I am just the iceberg's tip
What you see is just a tease

Don't put me in the pedestal
I am not a saint
Nor God's nor Lucifer's
Neither in between

So if you ever play of possibilities
Stop
You can't contain this
Overwhelming miseries is where you'll end up

Because unless you learn how to write
A poet will only write of what glorifies him
Unless you learn how to fight a battle of rhymes
You'll always be the immortal killer; not the victim

Because I speak of words lost in the Tower of Babel
But you will never ever understand
'Cause yes, I am an angel
But a fallen one
The night I struggled to understand
every line of "Ode to a Nightingale"

is the night I learned what poetry is,
is the night I learned what a human is,

is the night I wept for reasons
that are dif
ficult
to ar
tic
u
lat
e.
TreadingWater Aug 2016
thereisa
space _        between
knowing
&   owning
that. smacks. me.
Up | SiDe |
                    down
》just. when.
i¡ catch¡ my¡
breath;
[whilethereare
always #bodiesineed]
it's some crumb
        °infinite-soul-magic°
i tasted in your voice
&on; y{our} tongue
those are
en _ tire _ ly
dif>fer>>ent>>>
pains
&;so your mouth
d(i)ff(i)cult to
let {forget} _.      go
TreadingWater Dec 2015
I've always
jumped-right-in
with both shoes
And/maybe/that's
the dif. fer. ence
Maybe; I,
need to learn
to swim
Jessica Jarvis Feb 2018
It’s funny how you can see somebody on a regular basis,
But not know them at all…
How you can see the outward appearance,
But not see who they are?

There’s a guy I know, or… I think I know him.
I do not know his name.
He tries to dress well; He slicks his hair back, but…
Who’s he gonna impress?

I keep these thoughts to myself, because I’m afraid to ask.
Really, I’m embarrassed.
We both laugh and take advice from the same people.
Are we really dif’rent?

He stands short of height and expectations,
There with a crooked smile.
He appears to have a positive energy about him.
I can only guess why.

It’s funny how these thoughts take a tumble in my brain,
Yet they don’t escape my mouth.
Maybe I should speak up. This is another human being.

Maybe this isn’t funny at all.
8/28/17

Written about a total stranger.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Feb 2020
ILLUSIONS OF SEPARATENESS

Different does not mean separate.
So why do we have racism, hate,
****** of those who are different,
but not separate, from us, as well
as a seemingly inexorable proclivity
to destroy Earth and all living creations
on it.? Is this an aberration in the extreme?
If so, it is a grotesque and deadly illusion
that has been with us for countless
millennia. Why? A gross ignorance
that has begotten insecurity and brought
us to the edge of extinction? But we
know better now, or at least we
should. John Donne was prescient:  
“Every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main.” We are one, both
ecologically and spiritually. Ecolog-
Ically, we know that if we pollute the
Mississippi River, we ineluctably will
pollute the Indian Ocean. Spiritually,
we all pray to the same creator of the
Universe, but call the creator by dif-
ferent names. Can’t you see these
truths? If you cannot, you are myopic
ecologically and spiritually. Get your
ecological and spiritual eye sight
checked immediately.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia Universitiy, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.
charles 1h
these walls are slowly pressing me,

i'm no stranger to pressure in me,

i'd write my last words if it meant any

thing, if my format mattered, if words


        were in a                certain


                 place

whowouldsayanything?

dospacesmatter

would it make you think         dif

ferently?

would you leave a dumb comment



of what your thinking of           me

. would you crucify my grammar




            does it change everything

without punctionation


or a rhythm that

B
r
E
A
t
h

e
s..

would it really be so bad?

— The End —