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Khoisan Jul 2018
Oh architects of concrete
How you have stolen my plains
And dredged my soul
The Falcon hovers in vain
And the Hare has no hope
While you swing you clubs
For glory and embrace the
Walls filled with accolades
All at nature's dire expence
The plague that drives deforestation
MaddHatterQueen Feb 2018
3:22a.m.,
on my second pack of iggy's,
smoked by the minutes counting
you're not here by my side
to hold me and watch stars
fall out of place like
the places where our mind dwells
and my breath in what was fresh
for the kiss of your lips
and put a hold on to the smoke
in my head of you
our first night apart
things are something of some
painfuly hard to mend

3:25a.m.,
no, I AM pacing
my neck weary and weak
too much for this head of mine
to hold up all that clutters
streaming down my chest
like liquid fire from explosion
tensions play poker with my heart
and you're still not here
to help me live up to my feet
you go one way and I
I stay behind taking in the stabs

3:30am,
amzing how I'm whipping throught this
pieces I chicken write-...vandalise

my pen and I drop another line, yet on these fresh sheets
.. no, tonight we had no choice
since the choice was already made
no, It's not a break up
just one of those nights I let you
spend away from me and
I am just being so dam n selfish
just wanting you eaveryday
how do you see me now
taking a bat destroying what is
in my way thinking I care
.... ****!
like I do
go ahead act like it don't **** me
it's just anxioty,
attacks come around friendly
without handshakes that insults me
and my feet crash on glass
and yet, I feel nothing

... but you

3:35am,
mornings **** like manson
like the devil himself
it consums me in this home
where I make animals
look like nothing wild
and the neighbors can hear me
crazy they would claim me
and you're not here to hear me

3:37am.,
another smoke to pop in my mouth
and this house is smelling like
a drug house I had created tonight
when you come back home today
whatever time that may be
I'll be screaming and crying
like a crazy *** *****
in an un-womanly like tantrum
Like as if I hadn't hurt losing
another friend the other day
and on top of that you leave me
in times like these
this is the first you've done
so wrong to me
yet to me in my mind I may be
losing it completely
expressions say so much
on your face where I feel like
slapping you hard like I
want you to really hurt!

3:41a.m.,
even poetry stares me down this
early morning my, good one
a wife I will be, intentionaly insecure
I want this to go away
far away where I can cast myself
away with the extreme pain
that I'm causing myself
cause you ain't here
and that's all that's playing in my head
that's all that matters to me now
that you ain't in this fducking house
where I THINK you MAY belong

3:44am,
another smoke and many more to come
and this home is begining to close in on me
and this is just another
a.m. challenge for my depprssion
anti-deppressants don't do one ****
and I swim in my head where thoughts
**** me while you're gone.

gone feels like forever
up here is like the twilight zone
and you are the episode
where conflics travle fast.

God! I ******* love you!
this cage is now my dungeon
and now it's 3:39a.m

I'm pretending this is okay
...

(ghasping myself to sleep)
©MaddHatterQueen
Not Worth The Silly Pain:
irinia Aug 2023
the social pace manic in its self-absortion, possession facing possession and what if
the world risks collapsing under the weight of its own irony:
a hedonic frame of mind so devoid of the ******* of life
the tyranny of desire is teaching **** to the naked eyes
a culture stops breathing if it can't let go of its desires to find them again
nothing to be destroyed cause everything is dismantling slowly

going right or left it's the same but not in any corner of the world
the leftovers of God, tautologies in a straightjacket,
cause one has meetings all day but no sleep all night
He/She/They colonize you with the scripture of profit
everything has its price on the expence of being enlivened
some don't have water, others too much of an illusion
some don't have peace, others have haute couture
some haven't eaten, others have molecular cuisine
some have the shelter of the sky, others listen to the echo of Big Bang
this logic of contrast is dreaming of the creativity of decay and
what if politics has become a narcosis, a  drunkenness of words,
while the wisdom of trauma is hidden in billboards,
the text says Politics of Happiness or Diserotica

the depressive society fools itself with the financial ****** of disconnected bodies in search of the last noise of the day
the space of the mind  broken by narrow horizons
the flesh and bone might turn into a virtual dimension

yet
the soul of the world flickers, it covers its solar plexus until we meet again as brothers and sisters of the trees
just because you feel good doesn't mean that
the world feels good too
For me, to think and feel, to understand and suffer are one and the same thing.
Vissarion Belinsky

Is a life happy  when one’s whole being can enjoy life that is “good,”; by doing good?
Alexis May 2015
All my life is complied,
Of belongings in a fire.

Souls dancing in the summer air,
Laughing at the expence,
Of everything,
I've ever held dear.

Exposing my soul to another level,
Of suicidal rage.

Just another burn out,
In my history of pain.
silli May 2013
in the middle of the night it crept into my thoughts
it grabbed my now depressed mind and tried to hold me close
it listened to the fear and dreaded hate i had for this world and the people in it
they took me hostage you see and i had no escape
none of us can run from it
some just hide from it better
it took my face and told me what the world has said
disgusting and worthless
it stabbed my body with its piercing nails and told me
how much of a fat slob i am
it looked into my eyes and read my mind
but their was nothing to read
i was lost and alone but still the world around didnt seem hurt at all
they laughed at my pain to make themselves feel better
at the expence of a person
they did not care
they wanted to see me crash and burn so i could not fight
i awoke from my slumber
to walk to a mirror that had deep scars of my hatred for myself embedded in them
and the scars, the scars matched the ones on my side
the ones i hid from everyone so they would keep the words to them selves
and i ran and i hid under the roof of the place i had to call home
i ran there for safety
but what safety did it being me
when they yelled and yelled at me for mistakes that where never ment to happen
i felt it was my fault
when in some sort of crazy realty i was innocent
i was the victim of being hated and let down and lied to
i hurt so bad for people who would never feel the pain
i hid in myself
i tried to see what the world couldnt
but how could i see what was not there
i could not dream because they distroied them
i could not hope because they stole it from me
and i was not a well enough thief to steal it back
they broke my heart
this would that i had loved
it didnt love me back
it would never dare do such a thing
so i sit and i cry and call myself a baby
because i let this world **** me
i let it take control of my body and mind
because i felt i wasnt worth it
even with the people who told me to see otherwise
there was an army of hate that rushed their caring words right out of my mind
and i tried, i tried to change
my looks
my thoughts
who i was
i hated myself
and they hated me to
so i took the knife to my wrist and i carved the words help me help me
hoping someone could hear me
but no one even bothered to listen
so i wrote my story on paper covered in my blood
the last thing i wrote was
sorry
carved into my neck
Kirill Aug 2019
Deep down below the splitting surface,
Where light's as absent as the air,
I'm lost, while looking for the purpose,
With curiosity for flare.

The cold and loneliness surround me,
The vacuum's building in my soul,
Like tiny sip, the darkness downed me -
Now I'm forever swallowed whole.

I found the way to follow closely,
I won the endless, inner fight.
The truth and beauty will come costly,
At the expence of the delight..
Miles Mercer Oct 2016
this is an uncanny grey abyss
it would seem
having friends for thoughts and thoughts for friends
ushered to silence at the expence of my pleasure

masking faith with translucent behaviour, fooling the wind to believe me a bird with no wings

this is me: only the skin of a traitor, the eyes of a hater, the hair of a liar and the hands of a lesser living creature

— The End —