"dooming" poems
superhero holding friendship
I admire, I spectate , I watch and learn and notes I take
On a thunderous beauty, on this breath taking sight
Quivering breath at a mountains height
Those close around I fear they might drown
Terrified of what’s making change
Terror stricken, I flip through pages
that would never be re-written, never changed
I’m waiting for struggle, for flailing arm
for loneliness , peoples pulling up guards
Fences that we build and view as our shields
Just a horrible thing ,that wont let me in
Misunderstanding transforming
Now it’s a black mask of confusion, dooming
I panic at thought spinning around
Head is to full ,I feel for the ground
Darkness threatening my light life
I gasp for friendship and understanding
Then you flew in with a quiet landing
Tiptoeing around you lift me off the damp dirt
Wiping the darkness of my clean world
A new view of refuge, I need and needed you
Just a boy with good intention
Transformed into a superhero holding friendship.
Together walking side by side
we sort through what’s wrong and right
We plan a way to save the drowning
Climb fences and break through walls
Tear down others guards
I walk a walk , no longer alone in the dark.
I have you.thank all that is good
We stand were I stood
I love you
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
Better to be Pyramus and Thisbe
than god Apollo and Daphne?
As love oft triumphed by envy.
Oh to be Abelard and Heloise
or Juliet you and Romeo me!
Cleopatra, Marc Antony,
Orpheus, and Eurydice!
Martyrs to Cupid, were you wary
of the price to pay? Did you find peace
from Plato’s coined mental disease
in Pluto’s long halls of Hades
or the self induced daily shade of trees?
What of love dooming kin to Achilles?
When Dido and Aeneas meet
is her suicide guaranteed?
Pray tell us, can true love ever be free!
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
A classmate exclaimed
As Mrs. Ragan shoved
An Aladdin mug
In my face as I
Gained consciousness
During sixth grade
Art class
My first seizure
The depression started
Soon after
10mg of lexapro
Five thereapists
Three neurologists
Doctors ****
Middle school was
A Deep Dark
Dooming Depression
I had no friends
I hated everyone
And everything
But mostly
I hated myself
Wishing I had drowned
Or never woke up from
My first seizure
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:20 PM UTC
Here it is once more
- a dark form looming -
A shadow from Before,
A storm's mark, dooming.
.
Invisible vise grip,
the weight on my chest;
Marble-heavy crypt,
A thornbird's nest.
.
This hunter is slow,
patient, though relentless;
with no arrow, or bow,
or trigger to press.
.
His footsteps fall monotone
- finality's beat -
Like soot on a wall of bone,
the last defeat.
.
Although he'll stay
out of sight, a dark drape,
Know that his prey
might never escape.
.
When no one's around,
When comforts are few,
In the scent of moist ground,
He could find you too.
.
Mar 16, 2024
Mar 16, 2024 at 4:22 AM UTC
It's the Grim Reaper
It's the Boogie Man
It's the wolf in the closet
It's the monster under the bed
It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams
It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter
It's the poison in your coffee
Paralyzing
Petrifying and penetrating
A flesh eating
Bone chomping
Soul *******
Grave robbing Ghoul
Right within the halls of your head
Grotesque and greedy, it is
Gloom everywhere
An anxiety production line
Breeding anguish
Bleeding you out
Windpipe choking
Werewolf watching
Witches brewing
It's dreadful and dooming
It's horror at every corner
It's a newspaper dripping in disaster
It's a future forecasting fatalities
Your obituary in every new edition
BUT IT'S NOT REAL
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
… A moth whispering confessions high towards the ceiling… worshiping a false god and its dooming light… as the moth wings are burning with unrequited love… flapping self-fulfilling prophecies...
My wings are growing and I wonder… are you to be my lightbulb...
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 5:52 AM UTC
Of sleepless meadows,
and cold, seething blades,
the last rose blossoms,
in the desert's cruel shade.
Lachrymose falls
to shadow's black crimson,
while its thorns cry out,
"Why won't they listen?"
The rose screams and shouts,
crying sweetly for its heart,
but vines choke it gleefully,
dooming it from the start.
Gun barrels and swords,
with dirt spewing everywhere,
and sadistic corpses fall
without a single care.
The sounds of their loved ones
still beckon them home.
But that love means nothing,
when you know you'll die alone.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
I wake to see a hollow face at my left side
And I wonder if I've made another
Mistake when there are no
To be made. Maybe if I lift the truth, no.
I am faithful.
Suddenly the thought of psyche
And the binding of public views
Overcomes the fear of there being no
Light left in the world
And suddenly the sun fell
Like the tears of a widow
After the sky said goodbye like
The waving of a handkerchief
As a husband goes to war
And when the sun said goodbye
And left everyone's skin to turn
Translucent and white,
Dooming the population to turn
To ash at the blink of a
Flashlight, the sky agreed with the sun
Left nothingness lying
In its place like a lover
After a night of ***** and regrets.
And as regrets leads to guilt, the
Mourning time resolves nothing.
Guilt leads to loneliness, and cats swell like a tsunami.
Loneliness leads to insanity,
Insanity leads. The march of war on foreign concrete.
Insanity leads you. Into the eye of the storm
As the water drains from the steel sink.
Insanity controls you.
Insanity is in you.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Loneliness is now upon his throat
I know it for sure
What ails him hasn't a cure
He's shrinking like a sinking boat.
On the perch a plumed pain
He's lost without a care
Tells the vacant stare
Dooming into a never regain.
Death is an easy height to scale
When life remains to grieve
Without any incentive
As love retires to a dark well.
He's fading in the lost glory
And I know it for sure
What's killing him has no cure
My budgie called Story.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
if there’s no such thing as luck,
then how did I meet you at just the right time?
My bad decisions were supposed to doom me
I planned on dooming myself, if I’m honest
but something stopped me
and a month later
I met you
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 1:46 AM UTC
I feel troubled,
at war with myself, at war with fate.
Master of my own destiny?
I wish, I miss
her.
A million dollars is not enough,
A billion, maybe.
Yet longing for something money cant buy.
Her.
My demons haunt me, faultering.
The duality in which I exist
contracts and pulls at the soul, yet the heart only wants
her.
Ready to face the pain of rejection,
the dooming blow of heartache.
The darkness which will claim another piece of me.
Is it worth it.
Who knows,
all the matters is
her.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 5:47 AM UTC
I looked for love inside your eyes.
What I saw almost made me blind.
I saw a stranger.
He was cold, distant, evil, and revolting.
I looked for love inside your eyes.
Who am I that you are unable to make love to me?
Why do I feel as if I am not here with you?
Do I matter?
I am just a toy in this filthy play.
Not a human worth of tender and devotion.
Where are you?
How did I lose you?
As the years pass by
The monster inside your eyes becomes clearer to me.
You think I am just over reacting.
How can I warm to eyes that are making hate to someone else instead of making love to me.
I've found where you are.
I've seen the pictures.
As graphic as can be.
I now know what i takes to turn you on.
Women....people like me.
Tortured, humiliated,used and hated.
All these images burned into your brain.
Did you ever imagine (at age 12)
The first time your seen a ****** photo.
That you were dooming every aspect of intimacy.
Breaking the heart of someone you'd love.
If it all stopped here.
I could bear it.
Instead you brought the evil in and continued to feed it.
As I looked for love inside your eyes.
Hands printed, hair pulled
Looking the age of thirteen years old.
A simple photo
A simple video
Controling reality, distorting the woman in exaggerated *******
As I looked for love inside your eyes.
The evil eyes
Windows of a broken soul.
Warped by the lens into the background of your phone.
Souls never matter
Only bodies do
To those me. Who consume it (just like you)
A image burned inside your brain.
A image I see everytime I close my eyes.
When does it end?
I can tell you this.
It has not ended.
It has eaten you up.
It spreads like cancer.
Can you feed off of hatred and anger?
Can you break free and learn to love?
You say words.
Just full of excuses.
Feeding your soul on poisen.
If only you could see what I see.
If only you could feel what I feel.
**** has destroyed our relationship.
Tell me.
Was it worth it??
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
a facsimile of happiness
a continuous depression filled with interludes
of sunsets shimmering off loving eyes
neither logic nor morality warm beds
so we keel over, head long into midnight streets
groping for lips to kiss
ears to listen
hands to caress
******* to obliterate
for Newton's apple to drop
or Buddha's lotus to blossom
for Gabriel's sword to rip chests open
some are enslaved to absolute subjectivity
a tattered rag flapping on the wind
they are forever drowning drowning drowning
dooming any who dive in to save
they can not step back and observe the play
they are the play: the king, the jester, the soldier
the longing maiden, bitter spinstress, sword-smith's daughter
the prideful hero or stubborn villain
the country bumpkin chopping wood
the raving madman in the wilderness
oblivious to the back-drop or matrices
the paradigms of passion
the translucent chemical pulleys
the perpetual violations of history
******* them
even in the womb
the birth of an idea is the most wondrous phenomenon
the booming I AM forever resounding
it is a big-bang of metaphysical splendor
it is the unity of art-science-religion
the holy trinity of being
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
I was clean for a couple months, I'm not really sure how long, I stopped counting on things a while ago.
I'm not talking about drinking, *** or drugs, as i continue to indulge myself in those pleasures, but to a limit. I've never been one to lose myself at the bottom of a beer glass, or let ***** slink down my throat, although I do enjoy the feeling of warmth on my skin, it's soothing, for a change.
Alcohol is a reminder of him, No not a break up or lost lover, I wish it was as painless as that. It is more about abuse. The emotional and physical torture of him, how he laughed as his words slurred almost as quickly as my life faded and self harm became a sinister escape from this dooming thing we call, reality.
I thought I was okay. The doctors said I was, that's why they let me leave on the condition of pills but I felt useless having to rely on a smile in a bottle to make me feel, nothing, because I felt too much, at least that's what the nurses said. They wanted me to feel numb, so I did. I let the colour from my paintings disappear with salty tears and the dance in my soul snap,
I became grey in a black and white world, I didn't belong in.
So I stopped taking them and maybe that was the critical error in this sequence, but it felt so good to breathe for once. I could feel crisp air in my blackening lungs and as oxygen seeped it's way through my wilting body, I began to grow petals.
Only I'm not a flower nor a beauty, quite frankly I see myself as the opposite. I'm more like the watering can that feeds my friends and those around me, I guess I cut pieces of me apart in order to give it to others but that's what feeling alone does to you.
It's taken six years and a lifetime of strength to battle these demons that use my happiness to feed on. I pushed away the feelings of before, I tried to ignore, but I failed. I was told to reach out to someone before I let the blades touch me so I tried but I was ignored. Acid tears fell from my dimming blue eyes and without hesitation blades returned and ripped my pale skin, pale in colour and life. I'm told I see beauty in everyone, but never in myself and perhaps that's why the Crimson red looked beautiful on my canvas because there was colour on me. I felt alone and the shiver to my bones but I was found.
Perhaps it's a sign that I should try this living thing, one more time.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Why do we fall in love?
*it is believed that when humans were first created,
We were two body's fused together
With two heads, four arms and four legs
But only one heart,
The mighty Zeus feared our potential
And split us all in two,
Dooming us to spend eternity searching
For our other half*
Then why does love hurt so much?
*because child, sometimes, the love god Eros,
Well, he doesn't have the best aim
And that ***** everything up*
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC
*My Sensual King,
I used to wake up
to goosebumps and shivvers
because upon throwing my blankets to the side
the cold of the world consumed my body
and my heart filled with sadness
and I always thought I'd rather be that way
than filled with the anger and greed
this world so wholly contains
I'd always felt i was misunderstood
because nobody saw me or the way I see life
they always wrote me off
and went along dooming the world
But upon meeting you all that changed
I stopped being afraid
I grasped a meaning
that I'd been searching for for so long
You warmed my heart
and upon waking I no longer shivverd
and my goosbumps remain
but they are only from the tingle
I get upon feeling your touch
My eyes are opened
to the love this world truly has to offer
and I can see now
because I found my loving shelter inside of you
With Love,
Yor Little Angel <3*
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
I can't get out of bed
my mind is overlapping
overextensions of the body
alert
lethargic
dream state zombie
fire flickers frequently
on pretty rocks next to me
liquid I'm consuming
forgetful
free
and dooming
wind chimes
chiming
ringing
off vibes
singing
lost time
finding
rebuked
meanings
underbite
teeth clenched tight
but I'm smiling
bigger than ever
clever weather
sending me
hurling towards
obscurities
a crying running nose
lights blinding to near pain
shielding myself under feeble covers
till life breathes within me once again
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
An insult can go a long way
Especially if it rubs the wrong way
Or even if it happens in the wrong place. At the wrong time. On the
wrong day
Your anger came out along with your weapon
He better hope your hearts a strong weapon
He talked about your mom that's not accepted in the hood
Plus with all your friends around accepting that ain't good
So now you got that pistol
Because a day like this is why you got that pistol
But the same day you got that pistol
A day like this is why you knew you shouldn't have got that pistol
Now the pistol is pointed to his head
What if that same pistol was pointed at your head
Your friends telling you to put a hole in his head
While your heart gotta different pistol pointed at your head
So now to whom will you listen
If you do it then you will be doomed as a Christian
But if you do then you will be doomed as *****
You just tryna get to heaven can't have another ***** dooming your
mission
But you don't got the time nor the place to fail
With a fail you might get placed in jail
Besides jail it gets a litter deeper cuz you tryna get a bite of
heaven you don't want a taste of hell
All these rules and lessons
Plus all these thoughts elapsed in 10 seconds
You can either blast him in seconds or fall back and quit grasping
your weapon.
In been less than two seconds and your decision was made
You gon be thinking bout making that decision for days
And your friends gon talk about that decision
Now as your living your days
You wonder sometimes is that dude still living his days
What you wonder the most that is after you stop living your days how
will you be living your days
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
I am no longer searching for the end of the rainbow.
I'm not looking for a treasure chest, no Prince Charming, not some perfect fairy tale ending.
I am looking for
a war.
I want to see the world up in flames,
brothers fighting with bloodthirsty vengeance,
mothers who no longer care how many children they lose.
I am looking for an end
to this
catastrophic,
idiotic,
symbiotic,
toxic love affair.
Because you reek of tragedy and I of sin
and who is to say that love won't win?
I want full blown destruction,
large-scale nuclear fallout,
death by the billions.
I want to see the pain of this thing
in your eyes,
in my smile,
plastered to our hearts.
Because isn't that how we started?
Isn't that how this was born?
A bond conceived through peril and limitations,
too-high expectations and poor communication.
We can move on.
We can start again.
But, by the desolate sky and His backstabbing God,
we know to taste the sweetness of peace on the ever-blowing wind,
we must march through battlefields we have yet only dreamed of.
So, no.
I am not looking for Picture Perfect.
I'm not striving for marriage-babies-happy ending.
I'm looking forward to visiting Hell,
to building a city of misfortune and terror,
to dooming myself to live out most of my days in agony.
It is the only way to you.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
Another morning I’ve been sentenced,
feeling verb-less,
incomplete,
with my darling noun
I only let down,
when I feel like a child with a numb grip,
dragging him against the ground.
I watch him sleep, my sweet,
shimmering sun against the periwinkle morning
and all glows quiet . . .
but my muck of thoughts smell of rot,
with shadows of vicious vultures—
their black feathers buzzing with dooming vibrations—
smearing their gray against it all.
They’ve grown bored with the feed of palatable pity.
Their cravings threaten to gulp his gushing, golden heart,
bury it in the muck that wishes to swallow my temple.
I think of his holy water and bathe in it;
Thinking in his tears keeps me strong
and carries me down stream.
Each salty orb
wipes the grim and the grime
and refracts the light from his treasure,
his heart, casting
the rainbows that fire
arrows at the shadows.
I find my purpose in the thought of your wailings and weepings,
and I promise I’ll never lose your heart to grief.
Sorry the pillow is wet.
I’ve been crying in your sleep.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
Zombifying minds of many,
dooming them to a life rooted
in the ground. The didactic lay
forgotten, decaying in a
graveyard of tattered pages, old
typewriters, and eight-track tapes.
Monotonous drama deludes
these robots into surviving
in a reality teeming
with **** and drugs, ****** and lies.
Optimism overshadowed,
out-shined forever by filth.
But even I still succumb to
this regime, an addict to his
fixation. Plug in, power on,
and wait to retrieve the signal,
for my brain to be white noise while
potatoes grow on couches.
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 9:55 AM UTC
As you fall, so slowly fall in love with her
mind open as the floor you hit will be so much harder
it’s a long way down to the emptiness of
solitude
save me.. Catch me with your open arms
let this dooming embrace save me from love's sweet grace.
That illusion..
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
I think this was the first (and only) nervous breakdown I’ve ever had. I was nineteen.
The noises from the plane were terrifying enough to wake me up. My relaxed heart started racing, and I thought of a late-night bomb attack, via some middle-eastern country, which would bring war. I clutched the blankets to my chest, and expected the dooming flash of light which would instantly take my life through vaporization. After several minutes of laying tense yet catatonic in my bed, my late-night delirium began to slowly fade. Whether it was one plane or several, I know not. I just remember hearing the horrible ripping noise echo through the sky by my window and I instantly awoke. Were the planes this loud every night? Why did I never notice? Perhaps I restarted my sleep cycle and being back in level one, the loud noise frightened me. But did that mean that if these planes did indeed roar, every night, that I always slept through them? It seemed very unlikely. I cautiously checked my phone to inform myself of what time the war had started. Three-eleven a.m. How depressing. Why would an enemy attack in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep? What cowardice. Why would an enemy attack at all? Why would we have an enemy? As my paranoia faded and my fatigue crawled back, I went to the bathroom. I figured if I were to die, I wouldn’t want the finders of my body to think me gross for soiling myself with the tea I drank right before bedtime. As I sat on the toilet and released the pressure, the pressures of life invaded. I looked up to the sky-light in my bathroom and decided tonight would not be the night where I was killed while sleeping by a late-night plane of an enemy, but if it were to happen, I’d have no control whatsoever. Sadness struck me as I envisioned myself being robbed of motherhood, still and unaware at nineteen-years old. I thought again of the planes, and while they no longer seemed threatening, I wondered what caused them to rip across the sky in such force. It seemed destiny had spared me that night, but would it always? June was a non-war month anyways; I should relax, enjoy the summer and keep caution for autumn and winter. Those are war seasons, when wars began. The night was still once more, but I felt completely drained—the way one feels when descending from a cocaine-high. I straightened my blankets, rolled onto my side into a comfortable position and squeezed my eyes shut trying to hold back tears.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
The listless wind the only sound now devoid of life this once lively home groans to come down a little
Girl’s curls use to bounce as she pranced and played her laughter was more of a song to her parent’s
Delighted hearing now the parents lay in the church yard just down the road the little girl listens to her
Daughter’s laughter in a house far away now as a stranger a brooding sadness grips you as you look at
Windows no longer in place once golden light use to shine forth a comfort would rush to meet you now
It’s more of a torment a dread keenly felt with imagination you try to reconstruct what was but the gray
Weather beaten wood tells a stronger tale the sagging roof does more than expose the once tight and
Secure rooms that held such joy now the tolling of years will not bend to happy thoughts the oasis of a
Truly wonderful place gives the loudest cry time has been here and has gone only forlorn memories
Drag thoughts from your heart this decay befalls all living things what gravity and neglect doesn’t
Consume then rust condemns dooming those pride filled wonders of steel that took you too many
Places Wide was the ring you lost boredom in you extracted every bit of the city and country side all of
Its Charm was in those times you and your families alone but when running was done it was
Back to Base the sturdy strength of a familiar place now another your thoughts he tries to discern he
Came upon this emotional swell just by chance but he gave into the words it spoke of days of glory now
Gone the hold it has is perplexing but with a painful haunting it lies within in a perfect sweet peacefulness
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Breathless Death Speaks Volumes
The listless wind the only sound now devoid of life this once lively home groans to come down a little
Girl’s curls use to bounce as she pranced and played her laughter was more of a song to her parent’s
Delighted hearing now the parents lay in the church yard just down the road the little girl listens to her
Daughter’s laughter in a house far away now as a stranger a brooding sadness grips you as you look at
Windows no longer in place once golden light use to shine forth a comfort would rush to meet you now
It’s more of a torment a dread keenly felt with imagination you try to reconstruct what was but the gray
Weather beaten wood tells a stronger tale the sagging roof does more than expose the once tight and
Secure rooms that held such joy now the tolling of years will not bend to happy thoughts the oasis of a
Truly wonderful place gives the loudest cry time has been here and has gone only forlorn memories
Drag thoughts from your heart this decay befalls all living things what gravity and neglect doesn’t
Consume then rust condemns dooming those pride filled wonders of steel that took you too many
Places Wide was the ring you lost boredom in you extracted every bit of the city and country side all of
Its Charm was in those times you and your families alone but when running was done it was
Back to Base the sturdy strength of a familiar place now another your thoughts he tries to discern he
Came upon this emotional swell just by chance but he gave into the words it spoke of days of glory now
Gone the hold it has is perplexing but with a painful haunting it lies within in a perfect sweet peacefulness
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 6:19 AM UTC