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Jordan Rowan Apr 2016
Romeo, Juliet
They were better off dead
For falling in love is just like getting shot in the head
Come along, little fool
What better way to learn the rules
Than for someone to be cruel to you  

Miss Thelma and Louise
Their spirits drift over Belize
Lovers live forever and never learn to leave
Mrs. Bonnie, Mr. Clyde
Seems like everyone in love has died
Not in each other's arms but by their side
eF Jul 2017
You dug your own grave.
Now you're upset because it's
Too deep to get out.
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
pine is for leaving
oak is for time
willow, for grieving
love left behind
This verse lies in the grave
of an Englishman
who left for home
from a borrowed land.
.
Bye Dad.


.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
King Panda Mar 2018
crew-cut,
winter’s rust,
my tongue smudged with coal,
snagged with the bug I rise,
crawl my stare across space to where you lie
perfect in ashes,
un-spread and boxed,
I plant a kiss on your screaming lily.
Jack Chicago May 2015
The bars had opened just that morning
turned him loose again
he wandered blindly down the street
just lookin for a friend

The tombstones filled with empty graves
were drinking in the park
so he sat  to quench his thirst
and lingered well past dark

THE BARS ARE ALWAYS OPEN
EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY'RE CLOSED
THE DRUNK TANK SPINS IN CIRCLES
YOUR FREEDOM COMES AND GOES

All the barkeeps know his name
they've tossed him out before
so he cracks a pint in silence
next to the corner store

He's drank with everyone in town
they all pay for his drinks
a legend to both young and old
at least thats what he thinks

THE BARS ARE ALWAYS OPEN
EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY'RE CLOSED
THE DRUNK TANK SPINS IN CIRCLES
YOUR FREEDOM COMES AND GOES

The rising sun must weigh a ton
pins him to the ground
inside his skull a screaming hell
that never makes a sound

He always smells like whiskey wether
day or if it's night
a bottle stashed inside his coat
the daydream goes allright

he lives a dream thats long since passed
he toasts to a full cup
the nightmare there when he awakes
he simply drinks it up

THE BARS ARE ALWAYS OPEN
EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY'RE CLOSED
THE DRUNK TANK SPINS IN CIRCLES
YOUR FREEDOM COMES AND GOES
this is still a work in progress. it's basically what i hope not to become as i get older and drunker. let me know what ya think!
Daniel Feb 17
In a graveyard, a little being
slept on the bench
while people passing by
wondered
what it was doing there
but little did they know,
the being came to say
its bye-bye.

Danny
When I feel suicidal, I always visit the graveyard and end up crying because deep down I know that I am loved and my grave would be filled with flowers. However, I only know it and can´t really feel it.
It´s like feeling lonely when you know you´re not and it´s killing me.
Christian Ek Jul 2014
It will no longer be a cycle, you going back to him and me coming back to you.
The chances I gave you were plenty, you’ve drained the last one.
You’ve done everything I told you, you were. You’ve dug your grave and I’m not going with you.
I’m not your stepping stone, your therapist, or the bounce back for your self-esteem.
I wont go back into a tug of war for you, it's worthless now.
Since in return I get only blisters and not some healing hands.
There is someone waiting for me, waiting to receive what you couldn’t see.
and if you come crawling back; I will not let you splinter me again.
Peter B Sep 2018
I know one day Death will come
and take me to her home.
She will give me a place to stay,
she will feed me, she will be my friend.

But she doesn't know,
no, she doesn't know,
that I will never be her
- I'll always be yours.

I'll be dancing on my grave,
I'll be laughing at her,
I'll be singing the song of joy.

No, I will never be hers,
for I'll always be yours.

I'll be holding you tight,
I'll be kissing your eyes,
I'll be whispering in your ear,
that I'm yours,
that I'll never be hers.

I'll always be yours,
for I'll never be hers.
David Doran Oct 2014
My shadow is caste out far.
It does not see my stars.
I wish it could say how I feel,
That would make one of us feel real.
Although I remind my self of my existence,
Through the pain, and the staring glance
Of passers by who should mind their business
My heart feels hollow like a grave in the process
Of being dug out,
And death lies all around and all about.
Poetic T 21h
My stomach a grave of dead flesh,
     I feasted on the carcass of


             The deceased
now entombed within.

There was no burial song,
       Just the ritual shredding

Of flesh.
        

I'm now content, and the bones
     I discard as if tooth picks

Of satisfaction.

  
I'm not sorrowful,
           For my belly is full.

As I gaze at the flowers,

  forna I will never desecrate
               your beauty.
Gosh this makes me hungry
Nylee Nov 2017
I walk on a thin wire
of this very delicate life
right above my grave.
a slight imbalance and
death waiting down
like a cozy bed
for me
to fall.
Mystic904 Oct 2017
Grand edifices, seem pretty nice
Hoarding up money, such a heist
Pockets full, everything to boast
All that luxury, all that toast

Curtains of wealth, over those eyes
Trapped in such a state of vice
Stockpiles of silver and gold
Deal, a sign, everything sold

Wealth in reality, zero a price
Counting em, this year x thrice
Pretending to be above n bold
The stiff heart you couldn't mould

Crawling over body, ants and lice
Scorpions too, it's nothing nice
Shivering with fear and cold
The pain, agony, all foretold

In the grave, horrendous mice
Game's over for the rolling dice
No one to tell, weren't you told
To that paper now grab a hold

May it be Burj khalifa, all those malls
The huge tall towers, everything falls
Sabotag shall suffer those proud walls
(Awaits!)
The vast stage, superior than all halls
mariamme Apr 2018
i am broken and i want to be whole
death is stained on my fingertips
he loves the taste of my tears
so i wash my face too often

why am i so broken
there is no meaning in the cracks of my soul
i fill my life with comfort and
still death is always behind me

my throat is so swollen
from pollen and panic attacks
that ravage my body and
rip out the seams in my story

i've lost myself and
though i spent months seeking myself
all i see in the mirror is unspent
potential for depression to run me aground again

there is no wayfinder in my heart
like yours, with your goals
as a GPS and your achievements
like landmarks in your mother's hallway

i write beginnings
of sentences that now are
litter on the floor of my mind
because no words encompass my fear

and now endings are all i can think of
but i don't want to be another
face on the obituary, lost
amid painful goodbye's and small typeface
disjointed thoughts, as always. i'm getting worse and worse as a writer as my apathy continues to grow. i just want a steaming bowl of pasta puttanesca and a couple seasons of pokemon to distract me from anxiety + this ******* cloud over my head.
Harriet Cleve Jul 2018
The past is buried in an unmarked grave

infinity x people lie amongst the mathematicians

the bankers, the capitalists, the communists,

nuns and priests from long forgotten orders

writers, poets, madmen

believers in Dostoevsky



politicians and soldiers lying side by side

Guevara and Kennedys

reeking of decomposed causes


their headstones inhabit this planet

struggles, dreams, poverty, indifference


Only the living remain to frighten young children

in gardens of festering weeds


Amongst the survivors walks the big ******* war

whose parentage dresses in many flags

holding hands with the spectres of illusion

in this calamitous circus of humanity


the past is buried in an unmarked grave

and still it is hunted

it's rotten body and brittle bones

clutching it's precious treasure


the future carrying a ***** and death still the scythe

eager for the digging

anxious to turn the soil


the past is buried in an unmarked grave

leave it alone

let it rest in peace
Knit Personality Jul 2018
Root of all thirsting,
    My greatest desire,
A single drop bursting
    Can put out a fire.
A single drop wholly
    Divorced from the brine,
A single drop holy,
    The liquid divine.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

Raindrop or dewdrop
    I want on my tongue.
For the old drop and new drop
    These verses are sung.
The new drop and old drop
    Of water I crave,
The hot drop and cold drop,
    From cradle to grave.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

Drown me in oceans,
    In crystalline seas,
In H2O potions
    Of perfect degrees.
Drown me in teardrops
    Divorced from the brine,
In flawlessly clear drops
    Of the liquid divine.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

#
mae Dec 2018
Far away from today,
There is something vital I must say
Your life meant frigging dirt to me
6ft under was your destiny.
Seema Dec 2018
(I)
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...

(II)

An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?

(III)

Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...

(IV)

The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"


The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educate
On how harmful, is this
Greed...


©sim
Spilling imagination. A story poem.
Written on the grave of a gambler who died before he could repay his debts in millions.
"GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN"
Loser Feb 27
While dirt piled beneath my nails I clawed at your grave all night,
breaking my back until your blackened and dismantling coffin was in sight.

The weeds circling your tomb stone danced without appearing mundane,
as the freezing wind called to you, howling out your name.

I pried open your wooden door that had been etched with two dates,
and I knew that what had happened to you would soon be both our fates.

I thought back to the day when I found out you took your life,
and with hopes of mimicking you in sorrow, I keep a gun to my side.

Slowly I crawled in next to you, with just enough room for two,
and I looked up beyond the trees and saw a sky painted dark blue.

And in this moment at last, I felt completed by your side,
then I shut the door, pulled the trigger, and never said goodbye.
Jolan Lade May 2018
They took me as a slave
But no man, no grave
No rope, no chain
Can me contain
Break out
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