Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
mûre Mar 2012
My name is Murmur. I have a Funk.
My Funk is bright purple. My Funk smells like skunk.
And sometimes my Funk can act like a PUNK.

(And I'll have you know now, those days really stunk)

You see, your Funk always knows when you feel sad.
When you lose a job, or when things go BAD.
This is the stuff that makes Funks glad.

But since your Funk follows you when things go all wrong
Maybe you should just invite him along.
Make a new pal, sing a Funky Funk song?
Embrace your Funk, he can sometimes be wise.
He's usually honest even when in disguise.
He might even help you fight monsters round the bend.
By the end you may just have a new Funky Friend!

It's okay to have a Funk. And sometimes you will.
Sometimes your Funk will hoist you over a hill.

Sometimes Funks will help you. And sometimes not.
Sometimes they remind you of the good things you've got.

Sometimes they will take. And sometimes they will give.
And sometimes Funks remind you to just get up and LIVE.
With all due respect for Dr. Seuss.
Samm Marie Jul 2016
When I get in one of my funks
And specifically tell you
"I need you, right now"
You're supposed to come running
I thought we were going to make this work
But I'm not sure I can trust someone
Who used to always
Come to my rescue
And now ignores my cries for help
I can't be that girl anymore
I won't be that girl anymore
I never thought I'd be the one to walk out
When you so easily can
Irma Cerrutti Apr 2010
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy.  As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures.  Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being.  Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the *****.  If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself.  **** your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses.  Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge.  **** sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man.  Nevertheless let this not ****-faced you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion.  Touch yourself.  To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches.  Neither be cheeky about ******; ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist.  Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness.  Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity.  But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings.  Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness.  Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself.  You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end.  And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should.  Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** *******.  With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory.  Stand pert.  Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Doug McCray Aug 2014
I lost her to thin air  but found her in an elevator when we were both too drunk to take the stairs
And both out of enough of our funks to not care
As I was drunk and I needed lips and hers were there
Strawberry lip balm if I can remember correctly in a morning that was ever too foggy but tasted so clear
Berries above a neck of vanilla creme to the body with everything, everything, I mean everything
Back dimples centered around a birthmark, breats b cups but bursting, body skinny but jaw dropping
Beauty beautiful gorgeous all the same with public school hips only with practice can you tame
And broken hearts scabbing over a past life's scars are healing and we can feel it cuz its been months and nightmares ago but we've changed

Maturity or the quest to maintain proven false beliefs in purity in the form of trusting a ****** again while alone in my room
Dodging a half packed, half open suitcase and pairless socks in the dark..and who would of known feelings would spark so soon,
But call them feeling if you want to as both of us are looking like I'm on to you
Is this traps, trickery, or treason as we find old love spots and squeeze them cuz this may be a surprise but its not new
Looking into her eyes bring a cold shoulder in twos but then she is ******* and smiling....whispering I missed you...
And I missed her to...I missed her in the way pairless socks miss feet and shoes and even flip flops to....

I missed her after those nightmares replaced phone call lullabies and that feeling of her warmest hug by her hardest goodbye...
But now were laying together and why?
Did half finished bottles and condensation capped beers really do more then apologies and love notes in the longest texts we've ever seen
So easy to delete memories through screens but  not so easy when they stand before you or lay beneath your jeans
Not so easy when she finds a cursed diablo in her dreams in the form of a liar and his mistakes behind shades that I just wish didnt look so much like me
I can't tell if she'll remember the night we've seen with her eyes being so glossy and so out of focus and her every gaze so misty...
I just wish the title of wife didn't come under the muscles of a tounge so flawed before the women I'd rightfully title god
But were just drunk, and this is mistakes in the making,  hence why when I say do you still love me she can't say it  yet...only nod..
This is my first poem on here let me know if you want to see more!
Sarah Mulqueen Aug 2014
Do you ever get the feeling you're trapped, or in captivity?
Not by the true meaning of the word.
An overwhelming feeling you try, but cannot escape from.
Forbidden topics we feel should never be mentioned, there lays part of the problem.
We need to learn to reach for one another, help each other break free from these chains we've imprisoned ourselves in.
Maybe then we will be able to heal our home.
singingghosts Nov 2016
i'm in the shower. i have 2 rags and a loofa. i fold the rags. i make sure i consciously fold them now. i don't think it cures my depression but there are a hundred tiny things i force myself to do to try and keep myself out of funks. like if i just stop caring it's easy for me to fall back. sometimes i do though. and maybe it's some placebo thing, you know? maybe i don't know.

the point is i read an article and someone said they stopped taking their meds and went to the gym and their depression went away.

if your depression goes away, you don't have depression.

anyone reading this, there's 3 types of you:
1. someone who is depressed and hates people explaining depression.
2. someone who isn't depressed but thinks they are because life isn't always good.
3. someone who isn't really sure but is looking for solidarity somewhere online because they cannot get it in real life.
4. actually there's 4. someone hoping to learn something to help someone they love.

what do i know about depression? very, very little. i don't want to keep explaining how i think i feel when i can't even tell if that's what's really happening. And every single time i stop taking my medication it's that much harder to start again. i tell myself I SEE THE LIGHT, HOW I CAN BE AND SHOULD BE. I CAN DO THIS. but it's time to wake up and smell the car accident.

there is no light, just sounds and moments. i know who i can be but i can't be that person consistently. and no, i probably can't do this or i would've already.

i haven't been writing much lately. i've been working on my addictions and my love life, or lack thereof. my mood swings have been so out of control i think they're starting to become abusive, emotionally.

the tiny things i do. that's what i wanted to write about. i see stuff online like "hey having a bad mental health day. any tips?"

i have some tips. i can't promise they work. it's not about them working, it's about sharing a part of myself with you, and that's all it's ever wanted to do online.

i take my shoes off before i come inside. i didn't always. i didn't care. and one day after shampooing the rugs (during presumably a manic episode?) i was like ******* WHAT THE ****? IVE HAD *** ON THIS FLOOR AND ITS FILTHY. and i stuck with it. routines are so ******* important.


i have an extreme skin routine that i do ONCE a week, and basic face maintenance 6 days a week. i've learned doing one big huge wild night is actually sort of nice. it takes me like two hours to finish everything. i've been learning to really enjoy this, where i used to find it tedious and exhausting.

everything feels exhausting so it's good to find things that make you feel refreshed instead. but you just have to keep trying.

i make lime water with cucumber. it doesn't actually do anything probably but it makes me feel like i'm doing something good for myself.

plants are chill. but you'll probably **** a few and that's okay. something i wish someone told me before i started getting into plants was YOU'RE GONNA **** A FEW AND THAT'S OKAY. but now that i've accepted this, i've gotten better. plants aren't for everyone. like, my one friend is super depressed and there's garbage all over the house and the dogs **** and **** everywhere and it's hoarding grounds and gross and bad, and it doesn't bother her.

i gave her a plant. she doesn't give a ****.

plants aren't for everyone.

i wish often i knew how to help her. i cried the other day telling her that. "i wanna help you and i can't" it was hard to admit that to myself. i didn't mean to make her feel bad about it. i just feel super ****** seeing her live in filth and disease and she's just "who cares?" about it. i do. she's an entirely other story that i can't write about right now.

what else do i do?

i had been forcing myself to eat breakfast for awhile but i fell off that track.

i guess it doesn't really matter what i do. my point is it's not easy and you have to actually FORCE yourself to do things and try to not hurt anyone. and also, using people for ****** gratification to cope with your feelings is really ******.

stop doing that.

that's it. that's all i know.
Pink Taylor Aug 2010
I don't know why
But sometimes I
Just feel like I can't breathe
Sometimes certain somethings
make me lose my inner peace
A feeling comes into my chest
Almost feels like it's not beating
I have to take a deep breath
And remember you're still with me

When I get into those funks
After hearing a sublime song,
Or hearing something about junk
Or just sitting in my head too long
I must be careful, must be cautious
Cause sometimes it makes me nauseous
And to keep from crying too much
I just remember that there's
No Such Thing As Dying
I wronged you,
          I knew I did,
I ignored you,
          I broke our creed,
I grew weak,
          And took a break,
I sought peak,
          And troubled the lake,
You reached out,
          But I ignored,
You did shout,
          While yet I snored,
You did pray,
          While I was drunk,
I was prey,
          Unto books and funks,
You did stay,
          For so very long,
I can't allay,
          This burden of wrong,
Now I see,
          That which you saw,
I was he,
          So blind to his flaw,
I so hope,
          That it's not too late,
How do I cope,
          If this is fate,
I have learnt,
          A very big lesson,
I'm like a cent,
          Totally gone missing,
Do forgive me,
          And have me back,
Do relieve me,
          From this haunty dark,
I wronged you,
          I knew I did,
I ignored you,
          I broke our creed.

#El_Magnifico™
Yo who this on the track, black,
With another diamond plaque,
Imagine that,
Me spitting with Biggie N Shaq,
Back to back,
Like the Lakers and the Bulls, check the hairs of my wools,
Spools,
We growin, showing, you how to wreck a beat, smooth flowin,
Makin' tight ends loose ends, setting trends,
Stacks of bejamins, see ya bending ya mens,
Ya ******* aint killin, all yall do is talk the same spilling,
Im tryna get the black linen, pope style, pinned the golden child,
Came out the world,
And never smiled, i like to get wild,
Mystery mother nature,
Yeah i hate cha,
Descendants of the creator,
Along with Elijah to Enoch, wont see no death, so kick rocks,
I keeps it locked,
Like a combination, gangta station, stay up in the tahoes blazin,
Mad skunks,
And parliament funks, shaq alley up for the dunk,
Assist from Kobe, let me show thee,
Tv screen seventy inches across the scene,
Lookin' like IMAX, my money never maxed,
We stay poppin' Barefoots, and that's a fact,



Take trips to Don Italy, you fools aint  phasin' me,
With the Big whips to big chains,
Tattoos, only for ya skin to bruise,
Easier the desert eaze is here,
To please ya,
Never sleep twice, with the same skeezer,
RoboCop ****, attack the blunt like a NFL blitz,
Switch, off to another hit,
In the studio, smokin' phillies slow, with multiple hoes,
Clubs we go, from multi-million dollar shows,
New age expos, similar to a Soprano,
Keep my keys piano, eighty eight ways to please,
So dont knock these,
G-funk east coast tease,
To ya melodies I grease,
Lubricate ya ligaments once i squeeze,
Gats imagine that, me spittin' wack, never dat,
Its like an Isley's brother track,
Smooth sailin', aint no tellin,
I push more heat than air baloons, got ya fools consumed,
Into my style watch me bloom,
Makin' a stain ill still remain,
Number one in this game,
Y'all cant stop the rain the reign,

Since the death of biggie,
Seems like the industry,
Left with thee,
Replica of the 90s, rewind me,
Get behind me,
As we cruise into the new scenery,
Im old school as the munchies,
Slicker than Bootsy,
Collins yo yosef you wildin' pilin,
Up the flows i knows,
Hits like a snort of blow, in ya nose,
That's how it goes,
From head to head, toe to toe,
I get ya, dancin' on the floor,
Givin' ya more, raw with the buckin', until i hear yall shoutin' for war, leave no scars,
Bars for bars, who really want it,
Houston ****, we on it,
******* up is the clique, who gives a **** if you ain't feelin' it,
Im in it to win it, true independent,
Broke in the rap senate,
Change the scene, once i counted my green, mean as Gene,
None could come in between,
My cream, just like the Wu- Ninjas, makin' multiple figures,
Undercover hitters,
Holy ghost shakes, and not the jitters,
Knockin' on heavens door, many soul scalin' on the shore,
Im back on the earth, knowin' my worth, you ain't got the girth,
To success, i dont get distracted by a big *** in a dress yes,
I keeo bad ******* on deck check,
Wreck another one,
Then hire another one, flexes dont come close, when ya step to a Don,
Im the one, like Dub C yall wish yall could be me,
But im hear to trouble you, stumple you,
Get away clean, from any ****** scene, in the 525 BMW,
What?!!
Odd Odyssey Poet Nov 2023
Invisible crosses,
crossing out the days I
had no faith
As if monsters don't already
live in my head,- making me question
if I'll ever be heading in the right direction
From feeling like a dusty old Bible,
unattended to, and in servitude to to
most of my unclaimed confessions.

Could have been close to the ties
of me looking for change from the tithes
But I'll live a quarter of a mile, on
a quarter of my minds tank
I'm a bit too tanked to give anymore thanks,
any more funks, to dance around an n for
the wrong spelling of empty, and make
out as something you should c,- I have no ***** to give.

— The End —