Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Phil Riles Jan 2018
Hormones raging...for what I'm told not to engage in, even if we're engaged, if it's not official than its still revealed as...fornication. There's a disturbing underestimation of the result given for this particular sinful demonstration, society has taught us that we test the car before we drive it, but the 1st issue with this analogy told is that we're comparing human sin to...driving a vehicle? But if we're going to entertain analogies on this subject , then, well, how about these: do we begin eating Thanksgiving dinner before were done saying grace? Do they hand out diplomas and degrees for classes you haven't passed yet? do they give Super Bowl trophies to  teams expected to win? So how do we justify receiving the prize of an unmet process? We’ve allowed marriage to become an afterthought or not even a passing idea our better judgment caught because man had rather receive a temporary pleasure that sin conceives birthed in disobedience, deceptive grip around your conscience until your choked by the demands of a lustful flesh that wants to be fed in continual expedience. Or...Maybe, I’m fighting this, fighting not to be twistedly envious and curious of a world unknown to me. Maybe I’m fighting...the temptation and frustration of being a single man patiently searching for that good thing and the favor my Father blesses along with her. Maybe I’m fighting...not to nosedive into the traps laid for human souls lured in by lack, of self-control. It troubles me in just how simple...he explains his ability to desecrate his own creator’s temple. It’s not all his fault, because it was up to her to give him the key to this priceless location better known as her body.
Tanay Sengupta Aug 2018
Everything is falling apart,
It is too late to see.
No one is left to trust.

Crumbling into ashes and dust,
Lost in a meaningless sea.
Everything is falling apart.

Turn away if you must,
But it is too late flee.
No one is left to trust.

Fight for a fresh start,
If you are too blind to see.
Everything is falling apart.

Escapism is an art,
The world is too chaotic to me.
No one is left to trust.

Moisty eyes and a broken heart,
All I wish is to be free.
Everything is falling apart.
No one is left to trust.















Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
Just a thought that I wanted to convey via words. Hope you like it. Happy reading!
I plant an evil in my Shangri-la
he carried out a coup d'etat

He told me to leave
And I escape with glee
At that time, I'm so naive
To think he will save me

When I flee, I think I'm free
But in reality, I'm simply loose

The moment I realize,
What my evil has done
Everything had been overdue
My allies have gone
And my Shangri-la just left a name
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over ******, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
Cné Feb 2018
Woe to the one,
Who is stung by a bee.
F*ckin hurts a bunch
Makes one want to flee.

Even after he dies,
The bee knows what to do.
You might not realize,
But the stingers in you
“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.” ~ Fernando Pessoa
Jessica H Oct 2012
Left with traumas that are immensely heavy, too frail to keep dragging them along.
To flee is not an option
my woes have quick legs to chase me,
I fall to the ground in exasperation,
to wait for an able-bodied hero that will never come
ryn Jul 2014
Wild stallion live free
Galloping unbound
Always you flee
Never chained to your ground

Wild stallion how swiftly you fly
Over distances and plains
How courageous you try
Hide your aches and pains

Wild stallion your hooves beat the earth
With fierce determination
Let loose and be rid of your girth
Be free from trepidation

Wild stallion covet your solitude
Embrace the run in silence
Your formidable strides of fortitude
Bound forth with repentance

Wild stallion I see you there
Mane billowing as you thundered across
Grounds fly beneath you without a care
Running without remorse, gliding without loss

Wild stallion I was once like you
Soaring to the ends on unrestrained wings
A life that is now but an echo; a faint pathetic hue
A life that is now filled with broken things

Wild stallion keep on running free
Keep galloping and know no bounds
You're free, no need to flee
Outrun the chains, leave them as faint indiscernible sounds

Wild stallion how I envy you
As you canter, your coat gleam in the light
See me as you always do
Just a reflection who has ceased to fight
This vacancy of recognition to
survival itself is declining my
potential of ever recovering.
My bliss is pre-occupied in vigilant
combat, return when this ward I'm in
kills off the earsplitting shrieks
gushing through my bloodstream.
I'm hinged by a thread of dauntless hope,
how will I flee from this escapade
of what they call a human?
Quarreling from life and death,
dolefulness specks onto hypocritical
hysteria-
All feedback is welcome
patty m May 2014
Overturned are my
struggles to find the jewels of the sun.
A stealth of time, purveyor of death,
watches me constantly.   He is the sole survivor;
bag of bones, a Lazarus, rising from the grave,
his dark half my constant shadow.
Shrouded in mist the ghost moon rises.
I feel snared in its web of dreams.

Null regions, temp idle chance,
The Mirrored Realm on high,
indeterminately drifts.
Dog Chewers battle the Serpentine Lynx'
their violence flares.
                 Hugging the thorn-bush
I become both **** and victim,
making frightened noises
while rooted to the spot.

Then a brief interlude as War-birds fly over,
and the hunters flee their domain.
The shore line winds bone-white
past deserted fishermen's shacks as
gulls shriek eerily over a turbulent sea.

Vaporous thought, as a perpetual chill
seeps through my skin,
how I yearn for yesterday's blankets,
but yesterday was years ago.

I slip into oblivion, boulder-gray
blown about in frantic wind gusts.

Suddenly tiny creatures
descend through the darkness;
each small hand holding a glowing ember,
as they flit on tiny wings
offering hope from up above.

I stare, dazzled by sunlit-ice
no mouth of death, this,
but a luminous feeling of well being.
Now descending  is a glorious presence
scattering  goodness upon the earth.
Two embers she gently places in my hands,
jewels of the sun,
                 see how they gleam and flicker,
or could they be stars?
Savanna Feb 2015
Come away
Come away with me
Meet me at the hanging tree, down by the sea
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
I hid a raft in the wood, beyond the hanging tree
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
Leave it all behind, and start again with me
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
Sail with me to somewhere new, far beyond the sea
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
Even if we die tonight, you'll still be with me
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
Our story will live on, The Bodies on the Sea
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea

Come away
Come away with me
Meet me at the hanging tree, down by the sea
Some didn't make it past
Past the hanging tree
But we will both flee, sailing into the sea
I mean no infraction upon Suzanne Collins' "Hanging Tree" lyrics in her "Mockingjay" novel. I was only inspired by the lyrics to write about other citizens of Panem who may have have also tried to escape after the first Panem rebellion.
faith Sep 2018
water trickles slowly downward,
into puddles quickly softly,
falling gently onward outward,
current moving promptly strongly,
feeling breezes gently blowing,
dancing water over boulders,
water always always flowing,
seeping creeping up my shoulders,
voices calling under water,
drawing closer hands around me,
eyes now closing time for slaughter,
maybe next time you will flee.
Cné Jun 2017
The smell of rain precedes the storm
that looms out in the west.
The sound of distant thunder
causes racing in my chest.

The temperature begins to drop
as I begin to flee
Seeking shelter from the storm
beneath a lonely tree.

I cower there, although I know
this haven's a mistake.
I know this is a lightning rod
but that's the chance I take.

The clouds, like battlements,
now, tower overhead
Ominous...majestic...and
they fill my heart with dread.

Drops of rain begin to fall
and plop among the leaves
Followed my the icy hail
that toward my shelter weaves.

A branch has fallen near my crouch
and nearly I am crushed.
My choice to wait beneath the tree
now seems a little rushed.

I stumble out into the storm.  
The rain is driving hard.
Lightning strikes the tree I'd left.  
The trunk is black and charred.

How foolish was my little hike
in spite of warnings thus.
Stay at home when storms approach
or next time...take the bus
Really I was in my car in a terrible storm but it was very scary.
Bison Jun 2016
A sickness we make excuses for
Is not a sickness but a love

We can never have enough
We always beg for more

And this violence is not a symptom
But the disease

When we ignore weeping pleas
As bullets and bodies flee wicked gunman

The only medicine
That can do the work

To rid us of this ill-loved curse
Is total acceptance of all our kin

So won't you join me
And give up the gun

Take up this love
Have love for the weak
Alexander T Sep 2018
what is the meaning of life
if my heart wants the knife

What is the point of love
if theres nothing to dream of

How am I supposed to live,
feeling this way
If I want to **** myself,
Every **** day

I keep searching for reasons
Theres only a steady hum
stuck with closed minded relations
hearing nothing but a drum

stuck in this war
I am cold and sore

I am doing the time
but what is my crime

I can see blood
It looks like mud
Theres nothing left in me
so why dont you flee

I am undefined
and not so kind

you need to see
that theres nothing left for me
I dont want to breathe
So say I wont leave
Lizzie Apr 2018
Thoughts racing, heart chasing.
You're mad, I'm sad.
Can't stop shaking, there's no faking
When I see you in the halls,
I stall, hide behind a pillar, a friend, anything
Just to avoid the awkward eye contact.
I'm not good at confrontations, at the mere thought of it I flee..
You might think I'm crazy or immature,
But when you told me to stop talking to you my mind went a blur..
My friends say you're overreacting, over something so small.
I fear you'll dump me, leaving me lonely..
I'm so sorry.. Please forgive me?
Happy 18th Birthday, I love you S.L.
Jaycee Jun 2015
It's saddening, right?
I'm afraid to be alone.
I don't know how to be.
But when I am surrounded.
I tend to grab my bags and flee.
I'm so tired.. of this war,
Inside of my distressed mind.
Don't tell me to love,
Then have me run.
I want a forever.
Despite the pain that I caused.
It makes me feel selfish.
I was wrong.
Next page