Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
aaron Jul 2019
I fantasize
about marching with my friends
down wellington
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe they're right."
but instead, they think
"shut it down."

i fantasize
about taking care of the wounded
doing my part
and truly feeling
that there is power in unity
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe we're wrong."
but instead, they think
"send more troops."

i fantasize
about singing "l'internationale"
with thousands of my comrades
as we fight for justice
arm in arm,
hand in hand
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe it's us."
but instead, they think
"casualties don't matter unless the goal is reached."
Tom Leveille Dec 2014
have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?
Anythin' I want...
Everythin' I've ever wanted...
Anythin' I dream...
Everythin' I've ever dreamed...
Brings my heart; to you!

Anythin' I desire...
Everythin' I've ever desired...
Anythin' I fantasize...
Everythin' I've ever fantasized...
Brings my heart; to you!

your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

Ahh Baby, just like that...
You've had me fallin' from the start!

your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

Every day I'm fallin'
a lil' more-

your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

Every want...
I've ever wanted!
Every dream...
I've ever dreamed!
Every desire...
I've ever desired!
Every fantasy...
I've ever fantasized!

your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

Anythin' and Everythin'...
Brings my heart; to you!
Cause of the day...
I was Yours~

your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

You're My
Anythin' and Everythin',
but yet...
You're My Someone
I shouldn't have!
each hug, each kiss-
each touch, each caress-
then I want and dream
of more!
each hug, each kiss-
each touch, each caress-
then I desire and fantasize
of more...
with You!

Cause of...
your hugs, your kisses-
your touch, your caress-

You're my
Anythin' and Everythin'!
"My" Mr. Someone Special who's
hugs, kisses-
touch, caress-
I want! I dream!
I desire! I fantasize!

Mmm, Baby, yea...


COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
Diba May 2015
Aries* - Tell me about every person who broke your heart, tell me about how you fantasize of never being heard of again.

Taurus - Tell me about the demons that tuck you in bed every night and you lay awake and try to fill the void in your heart with lost causes.

Gemini - Do you remember the last time you spilled your feelings out to someone? And had them touch your soul instead of your body? Has anyone ever tried to untangle the mess you heart’s been in?

Cancer - When did you feel the shock of losing someone? When you realized you will never fell their touch or hear their voice, you will only see their smiles in photographs.

Leo - Remember the first time someone told you theyre never going to leave you? How long has the hole you’ve torn in your heart been empty?

Virgo -Tell me about how you’re torn between forgetting them and forgiving them

Libra - Tell me about how you’ve been looking for love in all the wrong people, why it hurts so much when they look at you like that.

Scorpio - Tell me about the first time you felt the weight of hatred on your heart. Who left you so broken that now your eyes would cut deeper than any knife you’ve ever picked up.  

Sagittarius - How many times have you said “why won’t my heart stop beating” before falling asleep?

Capricorn - How many times have you tried to convince your mind that the person you love, loves you back?

Aquarius - Who broke the windows to your heart? You thought it would hurt for a minute but it’s been 4 years and nothing’s changed.

Pisces - How many poems have you written that no one will ever read? The ones  about your ex lovers who left you broken on the bathroom floor while you carved their names on your walls.
Skye Rhiannon Nov 2012
Just wanted to say to you my dear,
Goodnight and please sleep tight,
I will talk to you tomorrow,
But as for now please pretend i'm there,
Please just hold me tight,
Have the sweetest of dreams,
Know that i love you,
Now I must slumber,
I will fantasize and dream about you my prince,
Feel free to invade my head anytime you wish,
I will always be here with you,
Goodnight to the sweetest heart out there,
May all your sweet dreams come true lover dear.
Maria Hernandez Sep 2020
I fantasize about you
and that one night we spent

All I think about
is your body on top
of me

I fantasize about you
being deep inside me
Luna Apr 2019
I'm feeling pretty *****.
Or maybe I'm just desperate for an intimate relationship
And I fantasize about sensuality
because I crave the passionate love between two human beings
And I fantasize about skin rubbing skin
the sweat dripping between them
The mixing of two souls and the conjunction of two bodies
The beautiful slopes and curves of her figure
slowly caressing mine
The soft whispers of love that brush against my ear
And trail kisses down my neck
Her soft gasp as I trail my fingers up her thigh
my other hand grasping the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair
Pulling her closer, ever closer
Her nails digging into my back
Leaving stinging red marks to remind me of her
when I leave for work in the morning
touching the scratches, I'll remember her
In the afterglow
Her arm around me, our legs tangled together
Her hair curled wild around her face
"I love you"
she whispers
Giving me a tender peck on the lips
Before blissfully surrendering to exhaustion
I watch her chest rise and fall
Her soft breathing lulls me to sleep
I'll smile when I think of her
Because I'll remember her words
"I love you"
They'll ring through my mind
"I love you"
Following me wherever I go
"I love you"
Lighting the candle in my heart
The flame growing brighter and brighter with each hushed word
"I love you"

or maybe I'm just *****.
Corey Jan 2015
I used to litter my room with posters and pictures, bulletin boards of papers
I used to obsess over things I don't care about anymore
I used to fantasize more about life than live life itself

What a waste of money it was to buy those ugly looking things
What a waste of time is was to obsess over nothing's
What a waste of effort it was to fantasize my life

Now I cover my walls with photography and paintings
Now I obsess over things that make me happy
Now I fantasize only in my dreams
Hinata Dec 2014
Many times I get asked what anime is. I wear anime t-shirts, I watch it with glee, I fantasize about it and have conversations about it as well. I go to conventions, I discuss it with my friends nitpicking at strong foes, and I even supported toonami coming back. Yet this question of what anime is always makes me pause. What is anime? I always think about it and I am always unsure of it. It's almost like theaters and movies, anime has many genres such as drama, romance, and even tragedy. Yet sometimes people argue that anime is nothing more than a cartoon. I could say that cartoons are only meant for kids but anime includes that as well. I could say anime has different art styles, but the same could be said for cartoons as well. I could say anime is more Japanese oriented but anime has no limitations. People question it however the same could be said of theater. Why do people love tragedy? Why do people wish to see a girl die from cancer? Why do people wish to see a couple being put through a lot? Why do people enjoy death? Anime has many genres like theater, anime has death, tragedy, and yes even ****. Do not judge anime by it's differences, do not say it's simply a cartoon. Because to some people it is their theater, their muse, their life, and their dreams and inspirations.
Just another thought
Robin Lemmen Aug 2018
romanticize our problems
until they are colored in pink and purple hues
baby blue mornings filled with you
fantasize our perfect life together
what if reality is the fake
coffee, music, and solitude can be found
any Saturday safely in your arms
awoken by kisses soft and gentle
until clothes end up getting lost somewhere
dancing around the living room
in our pajamas, without masks on
I wish this was still true
but this is not reality, this is not truth
this is me romanticizing past loving
like dreaming of Paris in the rain
AaliyahGisele May 2017
I dream about your cheek dimples,
I think about  how my love is so simple,
I fantasize about you laying your head down on my stomach,
I dream about you loving me to my bones, to death, to eternity, from the bottom of your heart,
I think about the times I had you so triggered,
I swear my love for you has gotten a little bigger,
I dream about you, trying to wake me up by kissing me on my neck,
I thought love was only a painful kick,
I miss it when you used to smile at me,
I wish I had the guts to tell you that you can't leave me here,
I want to be hugged deep into your strong arms,
If I ever kiss you, I would **** your lips right off your face,
Just know that no girl can EVER take my place,
Because you are what I crave,
If you don't love me how I love you,
I will spit on your grave,
I can't force you to love me,
I can't force anyone to love me,
But any guy or man, would be so happy and grateful to love a sweet, ******* loving girl like me,
Without you, I fell imprisoned, locked up in a closet, that's so dark, you can't see your hands,
It feels like everything I did for you, you've taken for granted, you've always taken for granted, even me,
I fantasize about you, I think about you, I dream about you, daydream about you, wish for you,
But have you ever wished for me?
It's so hard to just forget about you and how your smile and your face used to always light up when you seen me,
But now, you don't smile at me anymore, you smile at your guys friends and you girl-friends, but they don't need to be smiled at like that,
I would **** for you,
You make me seem crazy because you're the one that made me crazy,
Just know that I love you to the bottom of my feet,
I love you from all the way to Heaven and back, but, like I said before, you take me for granted...
Matthew Sutton Jul 2018
“You are not an artist.
You are not an artist.”

        What photos must I shoot
        How many cigarettes must I smoke

It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds

Summer vibes feel like radiation

Use this alcohol to eradicate
The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’

My phone is on airplane mode

My ambition is floating - as a feather might -
Down to the depths

I cannot finish my own sentences

Bury my expectation with my religion

        And it’s funny
        Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic
        But, alas - I do day-dream
        Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four
        And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious

I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same
Could not fantasize asking
Your hand in mine

Oh how I wish to cry
To sob in any light so long as you are in sight
Someone to reassure me, that - yes
“There is an end to the night.”

But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company.

Kick me off the team.
I do not know what I need.
If I could lead, as I once did.

But I have left concern in the refrigerator
With empty bottles & cans
Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity  
Won’t you reliquinish me of it ?

For I have sipped the poison of honesty
Regretfully it tastes like honey
Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating
M P Hill Apr 2012
Collecting knives Fantasizing steroid use

Patriarch Society indulges mass ****  

to produce An uncaring chain of follow blindly

Hoard money buy my new CD wanna be skinny

God says my **** is small in need of a pyramid scheme

Your problem is your not standard like me

I guess it's an imbalance, maybe I need steroids

Maybe I should just collect knives

And fantasize

Oh the things I could be!
Late night TV.
the result of overtime and infomercials
Gavin Barnard Jun 2015
I don't want to play a game,
I don't want to talk to friends.
I don't want to listen to music and
I don't want to take a nap.

I just want to lay here and fantasize
While I watch each individual day go by.
I want to dream about what could happen
But most likely never will or ever would.
I'm tired of video games doing it for me.
Lauren Sage Aug 2013
Everytime I think there's nothing left it's
Only because there is so much left there's mountains of
Me left and
That thought scares me
I don't want to spend any more time like this

I wish you could read minds.
Not so that you could find out how much I
Wonder if this relationship is worth it but so
You could do more things right you could
Not ruin the moments before *** you could
Know when no means yes
(know that I am pig-headed and proud as I cry)
You could know when to hold me and not say anything
When to just be there and not scold or argue bad opinions
(know that I am pig-headed and proud as you cry)
(Don't tell me that my feminist is showing)
(I am not ashamed of that)

Something that warrants shame is me in bed
No strength to sit up
Crying because you didn't think it was a good idea to Skype me
(you;re upset maybe you should just rest)
And I'm so alone
And I'm scared of dying of cancer as I fantasize about
Offing myself with sleeping pills
(my suicide note would be like a coming-out-of-the-closet note)
(with less determination and more apologies)

I am so tired
My bones are fragile
My tears are delicious
My feet are cold.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2018
I am not the master of my writing

my writing masters me,
seizing me when the seizure is a sure thing,
it dictates to its enslaved scribe
what it desires this utensil to reveal and expel -
the contraries
who having battled to a ****** draw leaves the battlefield trembling with indecent indecision; the optimal conditions for its macrobiotic invasion of my brain stem;

the she-muse offers me two choices:
she wants a poem writ forthwith
on the lyrical expression
of depression and refusal is
non optional

so I fantasize escape and that becomes
her property as well;
evidence against me to be used at my trials,
the one where there is no statue of liberty
from the limitations of prior bad acts;

I offer the she-muse two choices:

give me a cabin with WiFi
and self-enforcement of solitary confinement and
tie me up with the rope remainders of broken bonds,

bonds that tied me up worse
when they were broken
and the peaceful withering
that won’t disrupt disturb nobody
from a distance

my other choice is to bury me
forthwith next to my parents
and shutter my constant tearing eyes which are drop-resistant

muse says that’s no choice
I own your voice stilled or not,
will bill your soul’s account for
denial of poetic services

weep; i don’t want the noises that curse this troubled
bodyship don’t want recollections good or bad

the muse-***** cackles with insanity of delight
for she accepts this writ as partial payment
on her commission, whispers I love your
lyrical expressions of depression
that ****** recognition algorithms
alert me that seizing time is nigh

there is no on/off switch for one like you:
father son and holy ghost
Willst thou grant me

status of thine nightmare?

And willst thou endeavor

to afford me your care?


The longing doth grow aside

The heartache that turns my insides

It never leaves, it never will

I dream of dreams of caressing thou still.


Bereft of thine love, mine light so dear,

Soothing laughter of thine smile so clear,

A chamber so cold at night, I die,

Of thou to me next, I fantasize.


Thine eyes that gaze into me still,

The photographs still break mine will,

How the sapphires through mine own burn,

How they now are ever stern.


Corrupt am I, who’d let it all decay

For the pair of us to run away,

Though mine head may be atop clouds high,

It is all for thou, mine starlit sky.
Kaz Arat Oct 2014
I tried to show him Jupiter last night
and the night before, my *****
and before that, the knuckles of my fist.
Then, also, the sinking of my soul on far too much Adderall
and the nature of a festering crush-- in a huge symbolic gesture.
Because saying, "I fantasize about this man daily"
would be too obvious and obviously intentionally hurtful.
This man barks about fidelity, wretched women and suicidal Nihilism
while I scribble, "Oh my ****, if it was me..."
and I watch his legs move and my body groans
groans into the next two hours.
I think about them both performing *******
on the beautiful, small breasted women I ******* to.
Today in History, I used to ******* to women of my own body type
because I once found myself desirable.
Now it's the women under the "Most Viewed" tab.

I love hearing a strong woman say "****".
I love hearing him blend nasty words with rhetoric.
When I retell moments, I fantasize foul language.

I wish I was a scribbler like Ry
who doesn't scribble anymore.
Yearning, like too much caffeine, to jump out of your skin
Ashley Nicole Dec 2014
Dear Ashley,

          Congratulations! Your parents decided to give you one of the most popular names of the 90s! This is your letter of introduction to being Ashley! However, be informed that your name will not only be just "Ashley". Since it's very common, non-Ashleys will need to differentiate between all of you. You may be nicknamed "Ashley #2" or "Ashley Last Name Initial". Preparing yourself for embarrassment is also essential. Instructors will call out your name, resulting in either you pointing to yourself mouthing, Me? or managing to chirp a "Yes?" in unison with three others, only to feel stupid when it's not you. With a name so stale and boring, you may grow a hatred for it. You will fall in love with unique signatures, wishing they were your own. Over and over again, you will fantasize about changing it. Keep in mind that other Ashleys feel the same. At least you can be thankful you weren't named Frances.

                                                       ­                                   Sincerely,
                   ­                                                                 ­              Ashley

P.S. - Although, personalized key chains are easily accessible!
Kairee F Jan 2014
Can anyone tell me why I let myself live in this?
Am I stuck in a room with no windows or doors?
I used to bang on the walls with bruises on fists
over tattooed wrists and faded scars
that led to a hole in my chest
that I filled with love for myself.
“Love for myself”:
You probably think that sounds conceited,
But in all truth, it is the bitter opposite.
I didn’t need any of you to save me.
I figured it out on my own,
like I always do.
The fight in my gut emerged beyond skin,
but I was never good enough here.
I will never be good enough here.
I spend my weeks on a seesaw
between the highest praise and the lowest blows.
Every word that takes off from my lips
must turn and tumble in flight before reaching your ears.
You hear me. You don’t listen.
You twist me. You don’t illuminate.

No, I am not like a daughter to you,
and if you were my mother,
I would have disowned you long ago.
In fact, you really don’t know **** about me,
because I don’t want you to.
Too many people try to tell me how to live,
as though I haven’t come to learn what is best for myself.
I think,
as someone who used to fantasize about her own death
but has overcome that obstacle
and must continue to work to keep that fight alive in herself
of her existence,
I have the right to write you off as an imbecile to my life.
You don’t own me.
You don’t know me.
You don’t even see me.

I ripped away the heart sewn tightly to my sleeve a while ago
and placed it in a treasure chest
kept in a safe haven to which few hold the key.
I hold the key.
But I don’t go there often.
You see, I never really get the chance.
I just want the chance,
just a little bit of time
to hear the quiet hum of a life reformed,
to stop and feel the breath in my chest,
to feel each lung fill to the brim,
and picture it nourishing every inch of my body
as I press the “release” button.
Can I press the “release” button?
Can I close my eyes and be…
just be, not do.
Can I whisper my desires to the wind that moves around me?
Can we tell secrets of our confusion,
our struggles,
our victories?
Can I reside to the treasure chest,
simply to fill back up?
“E” is for empty.

I was designed differently than you.
I wasn’t made for this.
Matthew Sutton Aug 2018
There are conversations in which my mental frame leaves the
                               parameters of my body.

No longer can I fathom the concept of ‘being in love’
        I witness dates
        feel as an apprentice of such a trade might
        an inadequacy to replicate the models of those before me

Gone are my indefinite moments of sanity
        Childhood is laced in linens of silk
        Soft-spoken words
        Finely crafted spontaneity lacking responsibility

Ceaseless are the times in which I must conceal the thoughts I abhor
        Depravity seems to chain my soul
        which leads to
        a Resolution in pixelation
        due to
       a visual handicap which has left my eye blind to choosing right

My friends make me happy
        but as a glass transforms back-&-forth between half-empty &
        one glance across our wooden dinner is all it takes
My thoughts to liquidate into bars of gold
Telling myself I must exchange their conversation for my motivation
        heavy on the mind
        light keystrokes

Once i reawaken at 1 A.M. from my conscious-coma
i ask myself
What good is it?
        To be thoughtful
        Yet have no action
What good is it?
        To fantasize
        Yet refuse your own inclination for renovation
What good is it?
        To be dramatic
        Yet have no one at your performance

I do understand what it means to ‘be’

        Watching Tuesday suns burn in loops of ongoing weeks
                              -    lacking peaks    -
        As I continue to lay under clothes line
        Wrapped in a melody of melancholy

But I do not understand what it means to be ‘me’

        My mind feels as a lemon candy might,
        sour at first bite -
        hollow on the inside, then gone
        Without ever truly knowing what it tastes like.
Zaza Jan 2019
Dear father,

I still remember the last time I saw you

It's funny, because you looked just the same as you always did
Like someone
Who was never really mine.

Like a stranger in disguise
Who's reality only exists
When I close my eyes and fantasize about you being in my life

But I guess
When you heard you should live your life without
You mistook that for my name

And I wonder if you will ever understand the pain
Of knowing someone only when you imagine them
Or loving someone who thought
Never talk to strangers
Was a lesson best learnt by example

But they say actions speak louder than words
And you became so consumed by your own self worth to really give a **** about who you hurt

So you became the expert
At manipulating words
Like turning
I love yous into sorrys
Tomorrows into yesterdays
Until it was safe to say I couldn't count on you

Dear father,

Because of you
I constantly found myself falling in love with things that could never love me back

I became infatuated with sandcastle and snowflakes

Addicted to temporary moments
Addicted to broken

Thought if I learnt to fix things
Then somehow
I might find the manuscript
To piecing the shattered part of my being whole again

Because of you
I spent years trying to cover this skin that you left me with
Tried decorating these scars
With tattooed hopes
To remind myself
That sometimes
Some things
Were made to last forever

Because of you,
For years I avoided looking into the mirror
Because I never truly knew
If you could love someone
You only ever met in passing

You see
I mistook your ***** for water
I never realised I was internally drowning in your poison
I thought I needed you to stay afloat

It took me a long time to realise
That ***** was just your way of relieving yourself from blame

You became a box full of things
I packed away the day you left
But I've stopped trying to hold on to your burden

So I've taken out my smile
And I'll wear it with pride

And Dear father,
Did you know
That if you repeat a word enough times
Then eventually the word will start to lose it's meaning?

And I've stopped wishing I was still young enough to understand
What the word father meant

And now no know
That if I ever see you again
Then you will look just the same as you always did

Like someone
who doesn't deserve to be mine
This is a spoken word piece I wrote for my father who disappeared like a **** in the wind. One I struggled to write. Full of things I've always wanted to say to him. One I am yet to read to him and now no longer feel the need to.
Bailey Mar 2016
I need to fantasize, romanticize
the tragic things
before my eyes
'cause if I don't, I'll
surely fail
and then how will
I prevail?
Victor Thorn May 2014
To my kind and loving mother:
I never sought to be the other.
Fighting for an explanation,
consolation, you postulated traumas
caused a misfire
in the wires of me–
but the truth, chromatically,
static factors (masked by
willful ignorance and bliss)
wrought the otherness you see.

1. Elementary

Back as a child of nine,
fine and dapper in khakis and
a tucked-in button-up,
with parted hair and running shoes,
I began to fantasize
and atonement girls.
Attempts to hide this from the world
were all in vain
yet vicious, as children are.

2. Middle School




Did you hear that Brokeback Mountain is Victor’s favorite movie Victor is gay Have you been crying Where’s your boyfriend Victor has *** with children You’re going to hell ****** Do you know what packing fudge is Gay Do you like what you see Your garden is cute Quit looking at me *** Change in the stall we don't have to watch you ******* I brought you some glitter *** Gay **** ****** ****** *** Gay-*** **** Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay That’s gay Gay

I’d skip lunch to lock myself in a closet and cry.
Oh, my kind and loving mother,
I never sought to be the other.
I didn’t even know I was.

3. High School (Part 1)

Saving grace, Anne Folderol.
Last chance, Anne Folderol.
Only one, Anne Folderol.
Truly folderol.

I’d rather die than be the other
to please my kind and loving mother.

No more, Anne Folderol.
Last chance, Anne Folderol.
No hope, Anne Folderol.

You have the teeth of a crack addict You’re such a ***** Fat-*** I heard he was going to **** himself I heard he had *** with an eleven-year-old I heard he has AIDS Why does he hate god Hey pizza-face If anyone shoots up the school, it’d be him him him him him him him him him

State of madness, state of pain,
the state from which all killers spring.
Darkness, loathing, spite, and shame.

If the Father up above
was looking down in true love,
he would have answered my prayers
for death.

4. High School (Part 2)

Love and pain, Mom;
yin and yang.
We sang in church
until I left the brethren bereft,
and we’ll sing again soon.

But first know that I’m a spiritual seeker,
and that God loves me if he exists
and I truly don’t know– because I feel Him
at times, and sometimes I feel just everything.

And also know that I’m not the other,
that my love and yours are the same.
Know that if God made me, there is a reason why.

That reason is to open minds and hearts to the love of God, which is all true love. But I must love myself first. And when I live in such a way that does not hide my true self, I demonstrate that love. Love me, not in spite of who I am but for who I am.
Dedicated to my mother on Mother's Day.
C A Nov 2012
We blanket our fears with silly defense mechanisms to shelter any shame we carry
From every angle we stand we are judged at first sight
We pretend we aren't critics but we are hypocrites everyday
As we seek the forgiveness we can't give in return
We make promises and sugar coat little white lies
As we defensively reassure the world we are mistunderstoond and unique
The truth is our narcissim reeks like bad perfume suffocating everyone around us
As we stand tall for whatever it is we believe in
It's just denial
Because inside we are tormented with insecurities and charachter defects
Inside our stomachs are fluttering with anxiety and secrets too painful to remember
Inside we are incarcerated with a plethora of misguided ghosts screaming for an escape
Inside bombs are bursting out gunshots and out hearts have bullet wounds to prove it
Our viles of happiness are never satisfied
We are always seeking more
But we are never sure what we are looking for
Some sort of accomplishment or recognition
Maybe validation
A sign that we are still breathing with a euphoria seeping out our pores into the air
A sign of greatness
Maybe we want that picture perfect dream that we fantasize about until we reassure ourselves we are lunatics for wishing
We feel debased because our choices keep the odds against us
We are incapable of managing our own lives
And maybe nothing will restore our piece of mind
It's insanity--our thoughts
I think its called delusional
Because in reality nothing goes as expected
We had learned to cope with self medication
Because all the doctors were wrong
Something had to fill our voids in our hearts
Something had to stop the brain from processing emotions
We chased after something invisible
A force that spiriled our lives down into the ground
We ran away like little children afraid of the dark
Because we thought the pain would be like daggers through our hearts
Stabbing us over and over again until we died from sufferance
The pain was too frightening to look directly in the eye
If it were easy or if there was a simplier way of figuring it out we wouldn't have wasted so many years battling the addiction that wears a shield of armor
If it were easy the grass would be green and we'd never have to water it
If it were easy we wouldn't be so sensitive to triggers and flashbacks
It's not easy
It is World War 3 every single day
There is a chip on our shoulder and a devil on the other jumping up and down eager to break us
He is whispering temptations;
Seducing us with our vices, pushing us to collapse like an avolance until we overdose
He is waiting patiently and constantly because he knows us so well
We were weak for so long and he is hungry for our failures
He wants us to throw our hands up and call it quits
And the worst part is just when we think we've won it gets worse
And we are forced to stand in the mirror and detect every flaw of imperfection we wish to erase
And then it comes back all our defense mechanisms
The way we present ourselves to the big whole wide world
Biting our lip in sufference
Haunted by a past of turmoil and depression
It is hard to communicate to those who don't understand our demons
We are looked down upon and there is another stupid burden to carry
Because everything adds up and we get tired of all the negative
We get stomped on and spit on and drug through hell
But then something clicks
And we look around the room and we realize we are not alone
We are brave, strong and somehow still alive
And there is a person to your left an another to your right starring right through you
But all you can do is hand over the keys to your self destructive behavior and pray that help is on the way
Because we are addicts batteling the same devils in different levels of the game
Because we were dealt with a bad hand
But we played with what we had
And suddenly everything was ok when we walked into the doors to our recovery
and said
Hello, I am an addict
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016
The honey in the lion sounds like a delicious thing––
a gentle balm capable of subduing
the cruellest of monsters.

According to the stars and tattooed,
you fancied yourself king of the jungle––
lazy in hot African afternoons.

Golden and tawn with sleepy sun-gold eyes,
shaggy mane, muzzle red with
the blood of a gazelle.

Did you think me such easy prey?
Or was I so much fermented honey,
only a sweet intoxicant.

Sun warmth seeps from jungles of cold concrete.
I mistook your gargoyle wings
for those of a guardian angel’s.

I overlooked your rough skin, your
crooked hawk nose and your skinny ribs,
and assigned fine things in you that didn’t exist.

So duped, I acquiesced to your slimy kiss.
Your mouth a neglected cemetery,
teeth a row of mossy tombstones.

Vampire. Incubus. Your seduction like grotesque death.
You named me tempest in a teacup,
but I was the eye of the storm.

Until the night the eye was eradicated,
and the storm blew in,
striking me dumb with your sound and fury.

But no spattered blood and no spreading bruise
to be found in the pattern of the kaleidoscope.
No cause for alarm.

Today I am lost in a picture show,
a beautiful world coloured by nostalgic past.
Women’s lips the vivid red print of a velvet valentine.

Head in the Clouds, I fantasize about a certain scene.
Because you think violence is ****––
retaliation – ******* in my dream.

Give me an eye for my eye,
for all the eyes you plucked, from women and breadwinners.
Give me blood running down your back, sweet as honey.
The Honey in the Lion, available on Amazon.
Madame Eleanor Oct 2014
I hate you.
Almost as much as I love you.
I've been fantasizing about stabbing you in the legs the way I used to fantasize about kissing your face.
I thought that I had one person I could always count on,
I just knew you'd never betray me.
Guess I was wrong.

You broke my heart,
I want to break your spine.
You make the worst ex ever, and now you're mine.

I want to hurt you the way you hurt me.
I want to stuff glass into your arteries.
I want you to stop saying you're sorry.
I want you to invent a time machine,
So this'll never've happened.
So neither of us will've learned this lesson.

"Darling you're the world to me"
"My love, you make me so happy"
What an idiot I was to believe these things.
Now you've got me writing slam poetry
Because I figure it's better than murdering you-
And that little ***** you ****** too.

You were drunk!
You felt alone,
You were confused,
And guess who was right there to comfort you?
That's no excuse.
I sure hope going down on someone new,
Was worth throwing that rare and beautiful thing we had away.
I never knew someone could hurt me this way.
Oh and by the way, I hate you.
I'm a bit peeved obviously. They do say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
ElEschew Jun 2018
Innocence lost and forgotten
Innocence did it exist once?
Innocence such a weird concept
A childhood of sit down and shut up
A childhood of being ignored
A childhood of ‘im not here to take care of you’
A childhood of taking care of herself
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with ****
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.
Every child dreams of being independant
Every child dreams of the day their parents leave
Every child wants freedom
Until its in your fate
Until your alone
Until you have to figure things out
Until its 3A.M and you're crying
Until you fantasize about yelling matches
Until then you dont know what freedom costs
Dear momma,
I love you, i forgive you for the addiction, i forgive you for not feeding me, and i forgive you for beating me and my sister, i understand, i know lifes hard now and ive only been through a fraction of what you did. I love you and i always will, no one will ever take your place.
Love, your baby
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Business the Guinness
of records
Of the
Drunkin drivers
The presidential
audience all

We love one
white or dark lie
conifers thinking like
the Beatle song
I'm a loser
having respect for
yourself be the defeated
M-L-M morons, losers,
So nice you are linked
into my millionaires
The marketing scam
You will be broke
Those 69 lovers to
be ******
off shorter life
just smoke  PM
ATM money goes
pop the weasel
painting it dark
wearing your
heart out on the easel

Not for sale dancers
need exotic drink taking off
their Drunk Zen shirts
Chirp that Chippendale
dance her out
Until she is drunk
Drunk Zen Rocker
of punk

So ***** light thinker side
Phone drinker fantasize
about the trip
Link me on my
mountaintop- stamp
collection glue-stick
philatelic reinvention

Doing my exercise why so
Wow such beauty Judy
sunrise recent
What meeting my heart all
depends to remember
September but October
November Drunk Zen
Thanksgiving food
with crying pillows
Quite the Yam and
before I was drunk

The new navy blouse said
I'm not drunk abbreviated
Inebriated linked-in
private club
Like an initiation or
Sorority only drunk
I'm not sorry invitation

Drunk Club Zen
adventurous men
The hair club Oh! no
He got her by her
drunk-in neck

The Mediterranean
Going French Canne
Itsy bitsy tipsy bikini
The monk was like
the morning hot flame
Glitch or twitch of the nose
What a Red-Robin Rooster

Kevin Bacon lovers
Melted cheese and him
couldn't hold his sneeze
The Bed and breakfast
This wasn't Hamlet
or Camelot just
drunken Dunkin donut
For God's sake
(O) outstanding omelet
 drunken sea of eleven
Steven Universe
Glick Pearl chick
Email one universe click
Linked deep-sea hoarder
of junk
At her summer house
Strawberry wild hair he was
drunk forever Irish lad
Like the pub in
London Abby lane

Nancy Drew mystery
tour Zen men pour
In Georgia stays in her
mind what would it be
without nature, we need
air the water the sound

The trees grow in Brooklyn
Robin me birds spoke in
Those hubs on the go
In there Mercedes
having yogurt? Their drunk__

Drunk Zen be brave not
to be hurt his head cocked
A million in none
cars parked
The cheer was in beer the
lover of darkness
sky malt drunk
They were bushy eyed
with a  drunken masseuse
Drunk Zen was having sweet
tooth French kiss mouse  

Hands numb she is falling
over her  tweets of words
So jibberish dumb what
******* but silence
That number lottery Freddy
Halloween what Diva Queen
13 shots
High school drop out

Guilty ever Greek
to ever think cop out
Spiritual caller like the
winding road babes of pigs
in a blanket the helicopter
Head spinner Eifel Tower
Frenc kiss got plugged
drunk never a hug

Hangover flower mugs
The Drunk-Apple* of his eye
computer the Zen dogs'
Alaskan Husky Buddhism
Shiba Uni from Japan
They got the realism

Heavy rain tents you walk
out on me
Woodstock Jefferson Airplane
Or those Cocker Spaniels
Elton John with Daniel

The adoption they were crazed
with high tech gadgets
The adopters named Danny boy
Zoolander commander was drunk
I wasn't really drinking you have
a brain of a sieve

Man, water, the green earth just live
Like the four-leaf clover hey
this isn't over
(The Planet) or her
drunken eyes who wins
I could see a glimpse of
garnet Oh! **** it like
a dragnet or the Zen
The Roobus tea faraway
In Ireland hilly garden

Men with ladies cat milk
purr Kate Perry
Linked into the
materialistic Madonna
lady of silk he's the
hangover she
gave him her soy milk
what a guy
The pry coexisting to
ever think to pray

The super lady drink
never thinking blue
that he ever existed
Not remembering who you're
with he was on the
wanted list
Linked In the army
green wearing
a tank top bullets firing
in his chapel getting
married in his tank
Blue uniform acting

Disguised as a cop
My acting role for
both like Darth
And hey we are
not drunk!!
In the name of a
drunken love
Before I was drunk

My higher flight parachute
twenty-two jump street right fit
yourself as oneself linked
onto the mountain
the Ancient spiritual awareness
Grecian  love fountain harness
Maybe a lonely shot
of darkness
Maybe a lovely shot
of wellness
Linked into so many things do you feel pressured or you have an acting role but you better be drunk Ay Vey just pray when you show up don't give up we are all friends in the same boat. Let us sail away or no let's show the world what we really need to say
Frank Ruland Apr 2015
Brothers and sisters, I issue you a challenge! It's time for some excitement, so how about some incitement?!! Let's get rebellious! Let's go on a crime spree for the hell of it! Yes. Yes! A literary crime spree to shock the masses! What would you do, given some chances?! Rob a bank, go for a joy ride in a Lamborghini, or punch an ostrich? I'm not sure if that last one was illegal, but it's pretty preposterous! It's devoid of sense, much like I want you to write! Write me a poem, a free form, or poetic prose describing your crime! Let's litter Hello Poetry with riots! Tell your audience a tale, and make them buy it! Today you get to fantasize your own crime spree! To hell with Monopoly! This is your card to get out of Jail Free! So, who is with me? I said, who is with me?!
It's been a while since I've seen a challenge on HP and I wanted to do something totally different and liberating. I'm probably going to catch some flak for this, but hey, whatever. Anyhow, if you want to participate, title your piece with the crime you'd commit. Give your piece a #crimespree tag so other's can click on the tag to see them! Please, nothing cruel or offensive. This is meant to be purely fun and liberating. REPOST!

— The End —