"faul" poems
It is the first few freezing nights
that is when I miss you most
It is the first few fallen
dried dead leaves
that is when I miss you most
It is the blackberries, apples and yams.
that is when I miss you most.
It is the foliage
it is the full moon.
It is the smell of warmth
flying up between each strand of hair
It is the nights where stillness
and sound
procreate
It is you,
who I miss the most.
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 9:56 PM UTC
"Look in the mirror already
You're ugly, unattractive
And way too awkward
For anyone to give a **** about."
I step back, trying to whimper a reply.
All I can manage to stammer is
People like m--
"No, they don't"
She adds
"They just pretend like they do
So you don't flip out.
People don't like dealing with drama
And honey, you are drama.
People don't like fixing messes
And sweetheart, you make things messy.
You know you do."
I back down, submitting.
I think of a way to beat her
I go to the bathroom
Fix my unkempt hair
My crooked smile
My scarred and rigid skin
That has gotten that way from picking and cutting.
At this, she laughs.
"Try again, darling.
Pathetic doesn't even begin to describe you,
You worthless piece of ****
I face her, this time meeting her eyes.
But my voice still shakes.
I'm pretty
You know I am
I have something spe--
"No you don't, you little *****
You're just a mediocre version of everyone else.
You have no talents.
The only thing you're good at
Is giving boys exactly what they want
Or letting them take it from you."
That one stings.
A tear rolls down my cheek
And she absolutely loves the defeat welling
Behind my bloodshot eyes.
My molestation was not my faul--
"But you could have stopped it, no?
Everything you do is a disgrace, and you know it.
You disappoint your parents
Your friends
Your teachers
Your family.
You are nothing.
No one will ever want you.
No one would give two *****
If you dropped dead right now.
They'd actually appreciate it."
This series of "you can't"'s
Gives me a sudden shock wave of confidence
Or is it bravado?
I glare at her square in the face
And say, with no stutter
*Don't you dare ******* tell me*
That no one would miss me if I died.
I said it, and it shut her up for a while.
Now the next step is
For me to bring myself
To really believe those words.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Time my friend, you are faul but fair.
You want less of us but more,
You want more of those but less,
You always want but never need yet you transgress.
Love, pain and greed. That defines mankind today, time is not on our side but this is life they say, they claim, they do and a game they play.
Disproportionate is time for it gives more to some and less to others.
Disproportionate is life as it carries on with the breeze like a dandelion
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
Sinking / Dripping in drudgery and drinking ..
You..
Away..
/ I don't drink but that sounded cool to say /
You've infiltrated my soul with hate /
and now I'm left wondering what's my fate? /
Gradually letting go of my grace/
as I flick the ash from my blunt on the ash tray / ..
Carried out and falsely branded now /
by the words that stained the air after coming out of your mouth /
Leaving and letting go of how it all sounds /
cause "I'm not winter or summer but autumn after the leaves fall out ? " / right? Cause thats what it feels like when the cards are laid down / and your behaviour starts to get faul / after I call you out /
It's all a cycle of immaturity and toxic chaos ,no doubt / but you can't leave me, now? Can you ? /
You'd hate to feel man handled and strangled by all THAT sadness.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC