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Stéphanie Aug 2018
I feel jailed in my own body
socially forced to conceive
emotionally sick
hurt within

Scared to transmit pain
in this age of depression
reminding my ancestors' culpability;
will I also hurt my descendant?

Struggling to finish a phd
in this age of precarity
thinking it might push me;
Or, will I fail it all?
aquis Sep 2018
sitting, waiting, praying
because what else could you do
other than expecting
everything to be as it has been

and it will be surprising
when in the end you realize
nothing will be the same again
but much more meaningful than you could ever have imagined
and that was life’s plan from the beginning
to show you just one thing:

‘believing’ in something
with all your heart and being
is everything that gives what you’re living
true meaning
Life usually doesn’t like being what we expect it to be , its much beyond than what we could ever imagine...

I wrote this after an eye opening turning point in my life, so it has a special place in my heart.

Hope you experienced, or experience the same feeling too
English Jam Jul 2018
My little friend is now gone
My tragic life must go on; despite that
His evil eyes and his cheeky smile still burn in my mind
He no longer exists but
For my memory of him
And I rejoiced
When I heard the news
Still I can recall how I sobbed
When he gave me his evil eye for the first time
When he hurled glass and other projectiles at me when he was hungry
When he spent hours upon hours pondering the fabric of society
I hated him
I wished
For his death
I was depressed
It was like paint peeling off a wall
It was like finding a dead leprechaun at the end of a rainbow
I was expecting some sort of remorse when he left
Funny how heartbreak works

Now read this in reverse
Because sometimes all you need
Is a little change of perspective
To truly understand someone
Dedicated to the goldfish I had when I was little who accidentally died. This is for you sweet fish <3.
ronnie hunt Jan 24
moving that morning felt easy
my lifeline was long and thick
my head was normal size and not any thicker than normal
the cats were in good spirits the art on the wall was patient but not expecting anything
I'm not expecting anything
I woke up and I was not expecting anything
Zeleyha Mata Jul 2018
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
Shhhhh...
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I am not broken, I am free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.
Do you see me now?

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.
Do you see me now?


Pants swollen, hair to my brow,
Along my jaw,
Down my legs,
Sprouting from my toes.
Do you see me now?
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on my sheets, not between my legs
Stained by the girl who lies in her place
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, Burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Please tell me
Do you see me now?
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
Bryan Dahl Jan 2013
Some holding out their hope
Others giving up their dead,
Some believing miracles,
More prefering risk-free will.
Some expecting disappointment
Find regret instead,
Some wait for Luck's return
In broken pieces, still.
Some in line against the wall
Wait with vacant eyes,
Some with kids who won't shut up
Just look down and sigh,
Far too many end their days
The way we first arrive.
Dead hopes and broken miracles,
Our televisions thrive.
King Panda Oct 2015
who knew you were filled
with gold!
when I stuffed the dynamite down
your throat and ran you
through the casino I wasn’t
expecting a jackpot
maybe a princess piñata or a
party popper
but a corner leather and a
fresh haircut?

no, we’re not
in the 50’s anymore
but your vault was guarded
like mob headquarters when you head
started sputtering
quarters

you the
light-skinned pin action
movie star
looking highly alien
you
my diamond studded
chain
Yenson Apr 29
Too intelligent and matured
to be swayed or polluted
by the unsophisticated minds
used to the trivialities of their stations.

what person of note and decorum
conducts life in such limitations
values of the unsound juveniles
expectations of the crass and the backwards

oh, they do take themselves seriously
but unfortunately we are worlds different
and I was never able to learn their language
and avoided experiencing them at close quarters
quite honestly the narrow minded are always so so boring
values, life's view and perceptions all rather limited, you know!
Autumn blows with hints of winter,
Mood descends to match the weather
Sorry I couldn't help you,  and I
Still ain't got my **** together

Spark a stick of nicotine,
And sink into my self-reflecting
Got a whole lot more to say,
And I know it's not what your expecting

Humor wanes,  like crescent moon,
My memory tumbles back to June,
I think of all those promises
That never would be kept

Take 3 deep breaths to clear my mind
Of all the loss I've left behind,
And now I think about it,
Somehow strangely I have never wept
(Yet still I brood on all those
melancholy nights I never slept)

Seems like every time I find
The will to let down my defenses,
Honestly flies out my mouth
Despite my gilded best intentions

Much too late for me to take
Emotions back, and lock them down
I'll flash a wicked rictus grin
Like Pennywise the evil clown

Excavate my rusty hatchet,
Time to chop down olive branches
Tough to slay a dragon for you
Armed with only broken lances

Suffer awful habits as I
Lounge on decomposing laurels
Find myself in crosshairs of
Outrageous Fortune's emptied quarrels

Flick another cancer stick,
Continue with my self-reflection
Yeah, I've still got more to say,
And you might tell from my inflection

Hits a little close to home,
Whose walls are white and stark and bare
I'll whisper to a flirty femme
Who winks at me and twirls her hair

So now I sit and shift my hips
To grind on the lust of another woman
How many months must pass before
I see I was worked up all for nothin'

Lift my eyes from off her thighs
And look into her smiling face
I think I might maintain if I can
Keep the pain in another place
Heavy Hearted Jul 2018
will you, old friend- follow me?
through the great lakes, and the sea?
over the desert and oasis blue-
through boreal forests, and tropic ones too?
will you bathe in natures fountain ?
or live up on the lonely mountain ?

will you see ever- honestly,  
that all that you have come to be
is better than you really know
Lets meet back stage;
after the show.
I wonder what you’re thinking
When you look at me
Are you a perfect gentleman
Or are you ******* me
With your eyes
They say a penny for a thought
But are these things that can’t be bought
Am I like the dust you sweep
Under the rug
Expecting company
Keeping me a secret
Or am I not in your thoughts
Do you look right through me
As your eyes burn into me
With someone else in mind
04/25/2017
sir humbug Jun 2018
wear gloves on your hands,
leaving your eyes free to speculate
and your mind to record
the life of the plant;
and the life of the one who nurtures and tends

follow-from the fallow soil
to my edible plated consumption,
from the baby bud nipping
to sharp crack shot at picking,
to my tongue licking
both your produce and you

you may feed me poems
when the real harvesting is done,
grown in your own private plot,
from you, my good fellow,
follow with love delivered to
my expecting fallow-soul,
awaiting your seeding me,
and I,  
you...
laura May 2018
expecting the ride of a lifetime
hype guy with the pimped out kith jeans
and the shoes that cost god knows what
but he pulls me off of him so he can
carefully unlace them, while i get drier
than a desert waiting for him

like, ***?
show up in sweats and a hoodie so i can
steal it next time, man
when suddenly you’re not so into fashion anymore
SC Kelley Oct 2018
Don't.

Don't get coffee.

Don't kiss her.

Don't fall in love.

Don't think about her every moment.

Don't let those blue eyes pierce your soul like they have time and time again.

Don't let those lips poison your mind with the stinging venom of her serpent heartstrings.

Don't do it again expecting something to change with a happily ever after.

Don't convince yourself that you're done falling.

Don't think for a second it's over.

Don't forget it's just starting again.

Don't.
Fool yourself.
Don't
Fall in love.
Don't
Kiss her.
Don't
Get coffee.

Don't Assume
This time
Is
The last time.
For the confused and in love. But hey, what's the difference?
Empiricprotagon Feb 2017
have you ever feel...
tired of being good?
being patience,
being trustful,
being positive.

and you waiting for a day,
a day when you can do bad things
without feeling miserable.

do the things immediately,
because you don't need patience.

do everything on your own,
because you don't need to trust.

and didn't feel messed up,
because you didn't expecting positive things.

didn't worrying something bad.
cause you're in that path.

don't need to fix something.
cause broken is your thing.
Rich Hues Jan 29
She's wearing glasses and sits behind glass,
    He's wearing gloves; blue eyes in a mask,
    The note: "I haz Gun?",  hastily written,
    Brown eyes meet blue eyes; the brown eyes are smitten.

    In the distance, The Sweeney, all tongs and hammer,
    She's fixing his spelling, correcting his grammar,
    He's expecting used fivers stuffed in a sack,
    But she writes down her number and slides the note back.

    Outside: The driver's impatiently waiting.
    Inside:  Wide open,  blue eyes dilating,
    Then he runs, glancing back, and he's out in the rain,
    From the display case, a sigh; she'll never see him again.

    But at the end of her shift and in less of a hurry,
    In a whistle with some flowers, he takes her out for a curry.
A sonnet set during a bank robbery.

The rhyming slang...  

The Sweeney =  Sweeney Todd  = Flying Squad  = the police
Whistle = whistle & flute = suit.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this is rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Empiricprotagon Nov 2018
you had frequently checked her favorite place
like she's going to sit there as usual

you talked with that place
like you talked with a person
cause you think it's a part of her

she's your favorite ghost
the one that you've always talked to
in every night that comes as a gloom
without expecting any answer

she's your favorite ghost
the one that you've always imagined
her presence sticks in your head
her memories floats on the stream of your blood

three years has passed
it's unbelievable that you survived

you're going to where your vision guides you
it's going to be beautiful
but it won't be easy
This is a note for myself to keep myself living.
cause i never really moving on since my grandmother's death.
Kara Jean Jun 2016
She is obscene, ******* inbetween
I shouldn't haven't to explain what that means  
Only a handleful don't find her scary and overwelming
Ok so I'm letting the angry apple flavoring do all the writing
Who is really listening, honestly  
This psychotic chick will always be the one and only
Sorry if you were expecting me to sing
I suppose this was not enough
Oh well I'll keep sipping while you're guesstimating the measures you should be taking
Here's a secret, I mentally teeter totter unstably
So does the rest of poetfreak
Let's start a toast and forward the drinking
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