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Lizzy Apr 2014
I've written about the wind
More than countless times.
I've always been so envious
Of it's freedom.
But now more than ever
The jealousy burns me

The air
How it moves and turns
It's free
And it can touch you.
It gets to brush those lips I miss,
And swirl around in your lungs.

It's ubiquitous limbs
Brush up against your arms
And weave between those fingers
it can hold your hands like I used to
it can do everything I can't.

but what I'm most covetous of
how it can watch you
and rest it's head against you
how it can twist in between the cracks in your smile.

the wind is my enemy
she is the temptress that mocks me
she laughs while I cry
because she lives in your lips
and you have no idea
The wind is a ****
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously
You Laugh. Version 1.
Umi Feb 2018
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ?
Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh
shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through.
From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal.
Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up
with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me.
I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple,
silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it.
So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level.
My writing style might have been through changes, might have
come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well
recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern.
That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and
bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone.
But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be
walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time
which had stopped passing anymore.
So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without
any light to expose it to the world outside my head.
Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been
a  route, from which I learn and educate.
So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be
able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out
from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter.
As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze

~ Umi
Umi Mar 2018
Gather in a dark night, impurities of the mind caused by poisonous emotions from loss and envy, of spite or jealousy, forming misery.
Love fades, ahh once so innocently precious, yet fragile in structure,
Leaving the servants of it in great despair and even darker hate,
Where affection ruled supreme once the scars of misery are causing a heartache from leftover rampage, a riot now presented. Ah, phantoms
Swaying back and forth between sadness and anger one gets lost in his own blindness, destroying and bringing himself into ruins,
This lingering sadness seems eternal as time passes painfully slower,
An enlighting realisation should do the task and let the soul lost inanihilating, irritational despair grow once again strong and happy,
A spark illuminating the dark, with patience and hope for the future,
But until this event is taking place, a personal **** is what has to be crossed alike a bridge made of anxiety, depression and self doubt.
But worry not all you lost souls who are waiting for light!
After all, every winter and every night find their end and ensure the dawn of a blooming spring dream.

~ Umi
Rakha May 2018
I want to be you
In the holy communal

I want to be you
Suffocated by the plastic bag

I want to be you
Sitting at the top

I want to be you
Head-diving from sixtieth floor

I want to be you
And happy 98th birthday!

I want to be you
Reading this and

I want to be you
Who had half the mind to wonder
If this means anything
does it?
Eno Sep 2018
Theres still 5 more lives
Connecting and disconnecting
In this scene
An American diner
In south west England
Sat in a booth
That holds thousands of shared
And narratives that only we feel
With characters we played and knew
There’s no stronger drug
Than those things humans have collectively been through
But I didn’t think of this
When I looked at you
I’d never seen you look this good
Not in years
You’ve just upgraded
Your vehicle in life
No paper boy bicycle
Doing the rounds
But a brand new direction
You don’t need to worry for the next 3 years
Joined a scheme that will take you where you want to be
I wished it was me
Perched before the mirror,
my eyes open to see
the greatest of loves there in front of me

With a smile, a chuckle,
a nod and a wink
I’m falling in love above my bathroom sink

My ocular captions
are fixed in a gaze
and neither denies
our ****-worthy ways
Never before
have I seen such a marvel
Brought almost to awe
yet I recant such sparkle

For my status is equal
or better than such
I say with full modesty
(as if I must)
The greatness exuded
Displayed on both sides
It is something that I
and the other can't hide

All of those who now know
and all those who shall see
will admire and greet us
down on bended knee
Consternation displayed
only to be outdone
by illustrious gestures
to this royal son

But enough of the rest,
there is just you and I
“All of those poor, poor people”,
we say with a sigh
They will truly not know
what it is to be us
When you don't have to worry
And don't have to fuss

This supremacy life
is a difficult one
My heart would feel pity,
(If I had one)
Instead it’s disgust,
disdain and the like
The fuel that's propelling me
forward with blithe

Still across from me now,
a reverent sight
Another near equal
and one who just might
be the only one worthy enough possibly
To stand here beside me for others to see

They think they all know
but know nothing they do
It's the jealousy had by them
for I and you
They’re like chlorophyllic plants
Dripping in so much envy
They try and they try;
They try to prevent me

From being the greatness
I know I can be
If just given a chance
Then perhaps they would see
But alas, in the end
it doesn't mean ****
What I care for is me
Only me
and that's it

Except my love for you
It's so deep can’t you see?
It is real
I can feel it
I truly believe
Only you I can I trust
The one person who matters
The one I turn to
when life breaks and it shatters

All others are pawns
I can move on the board
Sacrificial pieces
for falling on swords
No dispute; I am king
Come stand here with me
It’s us versus them
And trust me they’ll see

It might not be today
It might not be tomorrow
But it will be soon
when they join me in sorrow
Make all of them pay
For what they’ve done to me
For the pain they’ve inflicted
Their fault, you will see

Anything that I do
Even though I will try
They keep holding me down
No idea; Don't know why
They are all out to get me
So plainly can see
But one thing you won't see
is not the last of me

Here, take my hand lover
and come with me now
We'll go out in the world
and together show how
Their pathetic existence
can benefit us
We may step on some ants
But there's no need to fuss

The hole that is empty
That is our damnation
Use things superficial
Instant gratification
It's a short-term "fix"
But will make-do for now
In our path, leave destruction
This much I will vow

Happiness, thoughtfulness
or concerned empathy
Some examples of words
unfamiliar to me
Therefore, no one can feel it
Must feel like I do
Only then I'm complete
Feeling I belong too
Written: August 31, 2017 (revised February 3, 2019)

All rights reserved.
Yenson Sep 2018
Oh I wonder if I mean pounding
Or maybe it's pondering
**** what do I know, spelling isn't my strong point
I've always been envious of all those brainy lot
To see me you'll know why I can never be an alfa male
So its better I hide behind a keyboard and troll
I can't help feeling inadequate when I read the good poems
All I do is steal words and ideas then twist them around
I pownd and pownd and pownd till I drive them away
I am a  Pownder that pownd and get a pound for every pownding

I am a little person with a little mind and something else bothers me so much it leaves me with a Napoleonic complex
But I hope other men don't know about it but anytime I see a hot dog, wish I could just disappear and die cause I know that's one pownding That leaves me unpownded.

Excuse me I got a job to do
There's a poet here, I've got to drive him away from here
He's Benson or something like that and I just feel so small
Can never write like him and being a stinking bully and a Hater
I feel so inadequate and it's stressing me out, how good he is
He leaves me feeling so carri gibbanoius and useless pownding about
My job and aim is to oppose anything positive and good
I was born to destroy cause I can't do better
guess that's why I can't even spell an ordinary word like
That benson fellow will soon leave and coward inadequate me
will rule with my mediocre drivel again or go copy from someone
and pretend its my work like I did at Junior High and college.

My good friend below wrote this to me:

Karijinbba › In His Grace..............

I hear the pownding waves of God in every day or written silences. I hear Gods loving waves in everyday's life's harships and struggles; even when God in his silence blessess, me in imagined lovers arms, and in dreams, when my breath taken.

He copied a poem written by me and improved on it and then
posted it back to me to show me how to improve on my work.
So I must learn from him and be a better writer
And stop feeling bad and envious about other people's poems
And writing privately to them to intimidate them and making
them quitting this site.
My thanks to Kainjinbba who helped sharing his collaboration on this poem and has done a lot to make me feel welcomed and appreciated on HP. Please note that Passive Aggression is not something that Karijinbba indulges in, neither is karijinbba a bully or a troll who tries to antagonise talent and endeavour ...
JP Feb 20
Green's not your colour baby
The only place it belongs
Is in your curious eyes
In nature and all its beauty
In rainbows, leaves and rolling pastures
In art, splattered richly across a canvas
In emeralds, olives, sea water and grass
This green inside you was not meant to last
Green's not your colour baby
Get it out of your soul
It's been too long since it's been in control
It's time to let go
Umi Dec 2018
Love and hate are blind,
But the truth is engulfed in every heart,
Envy or jealousy can poison the purest mind,
A green eyed monster, rampaging from the inside,
Grudges, destroying the sweet, humble and even the kind,
This malice attacks in the dark of the night, slowly taking over waiting for you to get down, get weak and give up without a fight,
Unsteadiness and despair are it's fuel, insecurity and vexation its light
This green eyed monster is invisible, how will you fight something you can't even see, hear or smell but only feel, strongly within ?
The purity of friendship overcomes even such evil as envy,
Before it leads to your own demise find some help, even if its hard
even if these horrible feelings are weighing down on you heavily,
But for those who have nobody, and those who are lonely,
Is a simple solution, even harder to bear with,
Cut off whatever made you feel this curse,
Do it before it gets even worse,
Face the coming morning.

~ Umi
Starlight Aug 2018
My lips
twist like
the door
that never
clicked shut
that shudders
as the
against it


I let
like windows
as they
over you
cursed sweep
gaze that
leaves you
my lips

you are
devil born
witch blood
red hot
heat against my
you light up
against the
ever silent
you are
darken with

Rich Sep 2018
Alice Coltrane, your music brings something out of me,
Something nameless
something I keep buried.
As I lay on this bare mattress, humming along to “Turiya And Ramakrishna”
I ponder if you knew your legacy.
If during those last days in 2007, you ever thought your work could inspire poets of the next generation
or was that even a question lingering between your tempels?
Perhaps not.

Well as this pen dances to the melodies you wrote,
I think, and think
and blink
and sink
I wonder if my last hours will happen a year from now or a decade
or a month
or a week
And what will remain of my creations
Have I touched enough lives
Have I loved enough souls
Have I danced enough
Gave enough
Laughed enough?

I envy the sand devoured by oceans
because it’s simply moving on to its next life
I envy photographs because their moments last forever
I envy the tortoise’s shell
I envy the hourglass because its fate is no mystery
I envy those who do not envy
I envy the days before sundials
when days simply couldn’t fit onto paper squares

I...don’t want you to worry.
I am a spark
Finite but furious
bright, unstable, contagious
and capable of lighting your way before I fade

At least I hope.
Penne Jan 20
Once there was a lass
Planted into a mysterious world
Does not know where to go, how to go
Three lights later, she was found
But it is not the kind of found she desires
Is there even a reason of existence
You want her to question about her sanity
Question about impossibility
Question what is underneath
Question what is on the other side
Do you think to look smart
Or do you think because you want to be mentally deranged
Does being a product mean,
To look unique, to look you know a lot more than anyone
Because insane is the new gain
Insane is the pain
Insanity is my oxygen
Does this look art to you
Just simply spilling her emotions and rants
But in reality she done nothing
So how come you label her as a product?
Everyday, questioned herself if she is even of worth
No matter where angles of skies she looked at , no answers burst
If she was born to be secluded
Does that mean she is out of this world
If she thinks differently
Does she have to change the world?
Should she be drowned in the pills of schizophrenia
To define what real art is?
To defy reality?
Is this enough
If not, then what am I
If not a product, then what
I disgrace sycophants and know-it-alls alike
Except for lucid and heavy dreamers for life
Are we bore to create a fantasy
Or altogether fall with this society
Does living in nomothethic oceans is a mistake
Talk about limitless yet senseful imagery
Chatter away with debates that activate logic which I do not have
What is more likely to balance
When there is a whole solar system to laugh at you
No, I should see more light
But what light shall I find
I do not know what is the real definition of every little thing
But I worry and think of them
They say it is the beauty
What beauty
Underneath or above
Which one did you admire first?
Do I have to question my faith
Do I have to question everything around me
Should I speak like Shakespeare
Should I speak colorful in my own language  than the language that became my mother's tongue
Should I write like an endless dictionary and a multi-faced human
Should I count every star accurately until the fall wither me
Or produce sounds alive like the city of owls
Should I make every human being smile when I cannot smile myself
Should I feel nothing but sadness for eternity
To pity me when I weave with words
Should I play like Arima
Should I paint like a museum artist
Just to call me a talent
Should I perfect my skills of every labor
Should success appear to me like magic
Should I explain the unexplainable
Or should I damage my cerebrum
Before I truly feel intelligent
Should I dance my life away like the Black Swan
Should I be tearing down politicians and teachers
Just to feel worthy
Just to be recognized in the light I desire
Or should I just look in the mirror
To check if my blood veins are still flowing
Real blood, not just veins of vain
Inhaling all the smoke of envy
I sin
I am flawful
I breathe in gold
Just to realize it is old
Just to realize my self-redeement is stone cold
Will you love and be deserved by light like that
Will you realize everyone who reads this has been **** as well
Will you realize I am not writing about myself
But what we are all afraid to admit the most
Because you are only a person
And once there was an abnormal lass
Ciel Dec 2018
I resent the water that gets to lick you all over every morning.
I envy the sun that gets to kiss your skin so softly.
I am jealous of the brush that gets to run through your hair.
I hate the pen that gets to feel your gentle touch.
And I begrudge the sheets that gets to wrap all around you as you sleep.
This is the first of a seven parts series I am working on called "The Seven Deadly Sins"
Iska Dec 2018
A chance

All that I ask for is a chance
A chance to meet and not divide
We’ve played this game,
Time and again
And throughout it all
we still remained friends
But to write off someone
based on what you lack
Is a sorry thing
that you have a knack
Of repeating again and again.
I’m not begging for you
to be chummy ole pals
Only I plead for you to meet
without a judgmental scowl.
Though a childish endeavor
I know it to be,
For once I just wish
You could see what I see.
With out the taint of jealousy.
To give a chance and then to decide
Is one thing
But to allow yourself to be clouded with envy and fear
Is a prison noone should be forced to endure.
Nyx Feb 1
I always wished to be like them
To hear those sweet words enveloped with love
Feeling safe within that embrace
To stand tall by your side

But all I could do was keep running
Chasing after a dream so unreal
Longing simply to be like them
To have what they both had

Like the petals of the spring
A voice I've missed so dearly
Finally I hear his calls
Carefully they grace my ears

Though I know you're not mine to love
So I'll settle with hearing the sound of your voice
And that ever lasting happiness
That she seems to bring you
All I ever wanted was to be the treated the same way that he treated you.
Eva Aloezos Aug 2018
Being a celebrity is a curse,
relinquising one’s privacy is not worth any amount of material wealth this world has to offer

behind the glamour, and seemingly fulfilling social scene

lies a darker truth,

the trade off between humanity and popularity,
simply isn’t worth it
Connor Hanratty Feb 2018
The wall came first
then ivy grew.
Him wrought from stone,
her suckling dew
between the crevices and cracks
of broken brick and tattered slats.
All separated were their lives,
yet intertwined to hypnotize
all but a masons’ knowing eyes—
a wall of green, the best disguise.

A hundred years could pass and see
that verdant slab so beautifully.
Yet time ticks on;
reveals what’s true—
when he does crumble,
she will too.
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