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Helena Dec 2012
When I was 15, I got down on my knees like a dog because
He   told    me     to.
Gripping my head like I was some sort of
toy he could do what he wanted with.
‘yeaaaah, that feels good’ he’d tell me as he shoved
himself
d
  e
    e
      p
        e
          r
‘you look so good down there when you do that’
as if the compliments really made up for the
broken ego, and self debilitating hate.
But how was I to know back then
what it meant to
deceive
my body? Always being told to
suppress my appetite in hopes of pleasing
some guy.
As if my body wasn’t beautiful enough.

When I was 15, I sold my body for a
Lously ****-
Because I was told
‘that’s how you prove you love me’

I traded innocence, and dignity for
Surety and cried out
L O V E
Because
that’s all I ever really wanted.

As if love was being humiliated and
Degraded,
Over and o v e r & o v e r
Again by someone who only ever
Treated me like a piece of meat-

Eventually, I got sick of waiting
for you to
l o v e  me
and tell me all the things I
wanted to hear
because subconsciously,
I KNEW that
Was never going to happen.

So when I was 15,
instead of completely giving up,
I found a better way to fill the void of my
discontented, broken heart
with the sound of an empty bottle hitting the floor-
A sound much better than the never ending sobs
And begging
for something more than just a degrading
Pick up line, or half drunk conversation.

And eventually I got sick of that,
Too. And then it occurred to me.
I’m not 15 anymore.

If I ever let myself think that I was
Worthless or disgusting or useless
Because of your inability to see past
The size of my jeans, or depth of my throat,
I was an idiot.

If I ever thought I NEEDED you
Or that the definition of L O V E
Was to give your entire being to a person
for absolutely nothing in return,
I was gravely mistaken.

Because I am better off on my
O W N.
I deserve much more than
Anything you had to offer.
MsAmendable Sep 2015
The rooms spins as I tilt my head back,
I see lightning behind my eyes
The floor rocks like stormy water
I waver, pudding arms shake,
Gripping the wall for strength
My belladonna fingers limply clentched
The silent thunder fading
The frozen storm waning,
And back to reality I go....
alexa mary May 2013
i don't think i'll ever

be a good candidate

for marriage

i'm either getting bored of you

or being afraid you'll find something better

never happily gripping your arm to steady myself

or smiling under the shining moonlight

but the pale, soft skin

losing all of it's color

in the dawn of mess ups

or failed attempts

to try and establish something worth

breathing for
Nadia DeLevea Oct 2013
I take a moment,
I close my eyes.
Darkness overcomes me.
There is a slight breeze.
My hair is blowing about my face.
I hear distant wind chimes.
The chains rustle in my ear,
As the wind sways my swing side to side.
A siren is heard.
It gets louder as I listen.
But I know a chain link fence separates me from the street.
From reality.
I smell the familiar smell,
The smell just before it rains.
I smell my neighbors smoking ***.
I hear the yelling they always do.
I block it all out.
I take a breath.
I let go of the world.
A cold wet drop hits my cheek.
Another hits my hand.
I don't hardly feel them.
The gates of the clouds open wide.
My body damp,
My cloths heavy.
Thunder echoes throughout the air.
Leaves above me are whipping about.
Someone calls out my name.
They are too quiet to be close to me.
My eyes remain closed.
I do not call out back.
I'm drowning in my own tears,
Washed away by the rain overwhelming me.
I let go of the chains I've been gripping.
I fall through the air.
Mud, it's all over me.
I don't dare open my eyes.
I lay among the leaves,
Scattered in the muddy puddles.
I feel nothing.
I lay.
I listen.
I hear crunching.
Someone near me walks through the leaves.
Fingers grasp me.
They pull me to my feet.
Hands shake me.
I will not open my eyes.
Arms wrap around me.
They pick my tired body up.
My father carries me.
I know not were we go.
But I shall not open my eyes.
Not now.
Not ever...
A moment forever frozen in my memories.

Eyes Wide Shut™  By Nadia DeLevea
Natasha Ivory Nov 2015
One more breath..
I promise..when I fully allow my lungs to inhale..ill listen for you.
One more exhale..upon the last release of pain from this chest..ill utter praise..
One last fragment of my heart dropping like glass on a stone surface..crumbling before you..hear my hearts plea..
Gripping the surface of the earth with all that's within me..prying at the crumbles of gravel below my knees..crawling..at the pace less than a snail...hear my heart...it wails..it sees the wholeness of all that you offer...
Scratching at hells door..knees bloodied..screaming at the top of my lungs..
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2015
Anonymous, oblivious
To the person kneeling before me.
My head spinning,
Throbbing,
Weakness in the knees.
My heart racing,
Trembling,
Color flushing cheeks.
Darkness, heavy scents
Intoxicating.
Gripping the sheets
Sean Kassab May 2012
Eyes lost to silken darkness
Sold in trade to skin's sensation
I feel the touch of cherry lips
As soft as day dreams kissing the wind

Quicken the breath and exhale shaking
Body shuddering
Trembling

Strong hands gripping soft flesh
Gently
Hungry
Starving
Ten lonely wolves running cautiously
Through forests unknown
Blindly moving

Dancing to tomorrow's song of yesterday
Embracing bodies kissing deeply
Lost to the moment
There is nothing else

Only this

Only now

Only you

Soft hands glide across my skin
The satin sharks that swim the expanse of me
Devour me gracefully

Desires burning in wild eyes
Black blind flames and uncontrolled breath
Shivering hot skin
Pounding heart

Control long lost
To arousal
And crushing need
Helios Rietberg Oct 2011
Meeting you yesterday
In the bazaar close to the school
where we used to play

You smoked
I smiled through the dust
Trying to ignore the differences

I knew it'd been hard for you
I really tried

The wind was degrading everything
The magnificence of the otherwise hot summer day
The braying of the donkeys at work
The shouting
and all the marble tiles lining the sidewalks
giving home its colour

and in my heightened sensations there was a whisper

"I'll be home for the end," you said

I nodded as always
gripping the hunger in my stomach so tightly
it always bothered me when the months came

"Maybe we can meet up then,"

"Sure."

That was all we ever said
and all I ever needed.
© Helios Rietberg, October 2011
She was home but not
the world seemed different to her
Her senses muted
Andy Griffith like in her vision
Downed power lines noted
She picked them up
Knowing she should be shocked
Finding it odd
She was not
She hurried under them
A transformer in the distance sparked
Her children but not hers
Played in her garage
She protected them against the power lines
Then ****, they were gone
A stranger child sat upon her dryer
Laughing as though possessed
The laughter was not human
Demon at best
Chills down her spine she approached
His laughter stopped
To her these words spoke
"You will not get to keep them
He will have them to his self
You will not be able to protect them
They will be his
No one else"

She then awoke
It was just a dream
Hurried down the hall to check
Her children in their beds
Safe and sound, fast asleep
After kissing each again
She turned, her room to head
She heard the demon laugh
Turned back and saw
Fear again gripping her
*He sat upon their bed......
The ex husband has put in a motion for soul custody of our children. Knowing my children are to now be subjected to this fight he has started has truly upset me...

"A nightmare, also called a bad dream,[1] is an unpleasant dream that can cause a strong emotional response from the mind, typically fear but also despair, anxiety and great sadness. The dream may contain situations of discomfort, psychological or physical terror. Sufferers often awaken in a state of distress and may be unable to return to sleep for a small period.[2]".......
Wikipedia
A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves
Extended arms to the darkest skies
Screaming out her fury at the heavens above
For the bitter storms she had survived

Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle
Small shoulders shook in agony
Cursing the very things that made her stronger
As this, she could not see

Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone
Hot fear still gripping her heart
While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry
The most incredibly, important part

Those bitter storms will come and they will pass
They will never stay too long
Remember when you are screaming out in fury
It is The Storms that make you strong
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
hannah Sep 2017
these fingers,
your decayed bones.

these nightmares,
your dying face.

these despaired remembrances of daylight ballads,
your hand, the pen out of ink.

these scars,
these blades,
this ruined flesh.

A promise once made,
to kiss you at midnight,
beneath a solar eclipse.

Instead, I lay here,
gripping your fleshless body,
imagining you are the sky,
The multitude of dancing stars,
the moon stealing the sun
in a heated, begging

act of sworn devotion.
Sia Jane Oct 2015
Tonight I’m playing snakes and ladders with my pleas.
My forefingers massage the temples on my forehead.
My eyes are shut tight; even the moon is too bright.
I’m bowing my head to the stars to hide the shame
covering my skin. Each shooting star highlighting
the scars you left on me. I’m begging the night please
let me go.
I’m rubbing my eyes. I’m picking mascara
off my eyelashes. I’m pleading with my heart please
stop loving her.
My hands move around my neck,
they’re choking me. It stops my heart. It stops my
heart beating for just a few moments. I gasp!
And then, it’s the grasping and grappling of my
finger tips digging into my collar bones.
I’m tightening my grip. I’m holding; I’m holding
so tight, I’m bruising my skin, and my finger nails
are piercing my skin. Now, I’m clawing.
There’s nothing left in me. Even my shoulders cave
in; my collar bones rungs on the ladder. My
grip loosens and I drop to my chest bones,
letting my feet rest on my ribs.
Tonight I am playing snakes and ladders with my pleas.
If I fall any further down the snake of my spine, my
only hope is gripping the vertebrae and climbing back up.



© Sia Jane
Aaron LaLux Mar 2017
Should’ve Taken The Camel

I didn’t want to ride the camel,
with it’s rotted teeth and tortured eyes,
though he did kneel for me nicely,
and the tour guide seemed kind when he offered me the ride,

but I didn’t want to ride the camel,
so I took a horse instead,
and we rode in a race,
to catch the sunset at the pyramids,

past dusty whirlpools,
of broken bones and trash,
horse hair clinging to a leg bone,
bloated heads and plastic bags,

dusty as Hell,
dry and hot from sun,
the sound of the whips on the horses,
gets us up and on the run,

gripping onto the leather saddle,
as this white horse begins to gallop,
and as we get going faster and faster,
I begin to think I should’ve taken the camel…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
The pool in my backyard has turned green,
and not the kind of green you write poetry about.
It's not a vibrant, spring fling green,
but a murky and tiresome green.

It's not the kind of green you write poetry about,
for it doesn't flow freely in the breeze.
It does not represent freedom, nor nature,
or anything in between.

It's still, it's stagnant, it's gripping and mean,
a green you don't want growing in your heart,
a green that will consume and tear you apart,
a green you won't write poetry about.

My pool has turned a menacing green,
that rattles my brain and keeps me awake,
that floods my thoughts with each breathe I take,
and defiles my soul everyday.

My pool has turned an unforgettable green,
that rots and haunts all of my dreams.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
aviisevil Mar 2017
I'm just a f*cker who's insane
taking names talking the game
I can't wait for you to complain
I'm already out of the frame
they say something's wrong
in my brain
but the facts don't change
they remain the same
pain or not
I'm not ashamed the way I am
so profane

dealing with blames
juggling thoughts on a chain
I'm the circus and what remains
when you separate
the heart and brain
operate on me
I'm breaking under the strain
stretching, and memories drain
always fetching me more stains

scars I'll wear like medals
dreaming about them butterflies
blue sky and coloured petals
and I still feel so strange
maybe under the weather
don't know whether to
tell you or not
I'm hungry for some shelter
to be the only one
isn't that special
and when you playin' some regret
don't forget what matters
there are too many mad hatters'
ready to falter like feathers
wearing them hats and leather
in a hope they'll feel better

but there's no hope
for the one's plagued with flames
always burning
turning flakes till nothing remains
but they alone in a room
with so much dark to bloom
watching themselves
shine brighter and be tamed

but enough about them
it's gotta' end
I can't be a friend anymore
there's so much to give up
before you can make amends
and the tail never bends
the dog keeps barking on
and things just go on
while you feel like a fool
who cannot go on no more
for he has no strength

afraid, always afraid
with things made
things said
there's no one else here to stop
so why don't we have a face-off
man in the mirror
won't you tell me my name
and keep repeating
till it fits in my brain
so I can keep it in a box
wear it by my neck
with a key to lock
so when the noose breaks
and I'm standing there
I'm ready to disappear

for i fear
what you cannot hear
monsters you never thought
were any real
caught in the middle
trying to figure out the riddle
to catch a moment and heal
this torment is the real deal
everything else is there to rot
and I bless you not
there's nothing there to feel
no mask to peel
everything is what everyone does
not point in screaming insane
and shoot down the doves
when they're not trained
wear them gloves on
nothing wrong in wiping
the evidence as medicine
for a heart too lost to complain
shut in love

and I've told you enough
there's not much left I should be sayin'
but these words keep payin'
and I'm down on my knees praying
taking my chances where none exist
and it's now too late to insist
I cannot resist the shame
no, I want it just the same
all the non-sense wrapped neatly
ever so sweetly in a pill with my name

and I'm trying to
tell you a story that's plain
could be fit in a frame
but that's not how life is
not everybody's happy
when the sun rises
some want just the vices
without having any
sacrifices, that's not pain
you haven't seen the rain
the sky's still blue
I'm walking with you
and you're in my shoes
don't you know where
I'm leading you
can you not feel it in your veins
every word I've been speaking
now forming an illusion
repeating the delusion here
can you not hear ?
confusion in your brain
rippling across the galaxy
ripping off the reality
gripping you when you're lost
in your humanity



stop thinking about the society
there's other variety
another inking virtuality
so many dimensions to choose from
and I don't word what's wrong
but I heard they found
love in some other galaxy

why can't we be good neighbours' ?
I'm feeling like you don't care
who's peeking through the mirror
through you to pull your lever
I think I'm gonna' have a fever
give me something to lift this world up
I'm all for love in this season
in a hope good be delivered
no reason for me to not keep her
but it's still treason to stop
when you start to love her
I'm just a weaver
fallin' asleep to be a dreamer
and now I've to wake her
tell her I was never a winner
but I'm gonna' win it all
now that I'm with her

and I feel like such a loser
I just want to wither
I'm too cold now
i cannot wither
I don't know how to linger
I'm in love with winter
but everything melts in summer

and I'm back where it begins
taking names talking the game
I can't wait for you to complain
I'm already out of the frame
they say something's wrong
in my brain
but the facts don't change
they remain the same, so vain
pain or not
I'm not ashamed the way I am
so profane
Shaurya Pal Jan 2014
As I scarpered away, I could hear the voices,
echoing through the steel walls.
The cries, the vociferations, catching up to me,
couldn't fathom the escape, with a plan full of flaws.

Turning left, bending right,
running in circles, an endless plight.
The drug they induced,
pumping through my veins,
blocking my vision, severing the mains.
Don't know for how long,
I can put up this fight.

The sentinels advanced,
as fast and agile as they ever could be.
The alarm had rung more than once,
red lights poured all over the scene.

Needle in hand, dipped in ataractic,
who were they fooling, with that mild sedative?
I raced with every semblance of life I had,
couldn't survive this hell-hole.
Another day here would've driven me mad.

As the unexpected turn came,
I banged the door with the unknown name.
Fell face first, the momentum it carried me,
Scraped through the floor, stomach felt queasy.
Warm liquid oozed out of my nose,
dripping tardily as I rose,
the environment all but blurry.


Insanity Prevailed


As I blacked out,
I recalled how I came to be,
this house of horrors, delivered to me.
'Magnolia', home of the mentally challenged,
avowed 'care for the community'.

The head-shrink had advised,
you be safe, a feeling I imbibed.
A wry smile and that was it,
'Magnolia' She exclaimed,' would deem you fit.'

Believing in every word of hers,
I opened the door, welcomed
by the smell of fresh carcass,
the shabby floor with spots of dirt,
and people, oh lord the great unwashed,
like walking zombies, feelings inert.
They looked at me, some smiled and some laughed,
others cried, rest merely coughed.
So this is it, the house of the harebrained,
this was going to be my life,
Living among the insane.

I harbored no ill will,
But I couldn't absolve,
this feeling, inside me,
no friends no family, nothing normal.
Lasting with the un-dead,
my new destiny.

They filed me,
Gave a number, names were difficult to process,
66 it was, perfect, contributed  distress.
Admitted to my room, solitary for the neophyte,
'Morning' they said,' begins a new life.'

With a wicked smile they left me alone,
I was meek enough to cry, stiff enough to moan.
I wailed the whole night, the walls resonated,
the shrill of metal, the demons it encouraged.
The lights polished off, staring at the darkness,
all the monsters , the behemoth, dancing around me,
an invitation to their everlasting music.


Insanity Persisted


A specter bobbed up from the tiled floor,
gazed at me and pointed to the door.
'Rise, Awaken, my soul',
and the door opened with a loud crack,
'You must hurry, the guards will be back'.
I sat bolt upright, the apparition never lied.

Nose still bleeding, I took flight with haste,
looked back, they had dropped the chase.
It felt safe after a long time,
The world must know, of their wicked little crime.
They had to be stopped, the Doctor, the Nurse,
all of which were part of the crust,
which protected the whacko who experimented on us.

End of the hall, I noticed the Blue door,
It had to be the one, which will take me off-shore.
Head still paining, the doses that drained,
the vigor and strength, I couldn't sustain.
One last time, I had to draft
my will my power, from within.
To conjure up all my might,
before the shadows cave in.

As I drew nearer, towards the blue threshold.
I knew there was no looking back,  
nothing left to unfold.
I slowed down, one step at a time,
I could taste freedom, a taste so sublime.
My hand reached the door,
and gently turned the ****,
I pushed open the exit
and stared at the waiting mob.

Before I could assimilate,
with my failure and disappointment.
Someone jabbed a needle,
covering my mouth, crackling my vent.
Pushing me again, down the memory lane.


Insanity Pursued


The days were bad,
the nights equally worse.
A thin line existed between illusion and insanity,
indistinguishable they became, virtual and reality.
One could hear screams, begging for mercy,
Which the henchmen showed no sign of,
and continued to treat the already cured.

Those who betrayed, yearning exemption,
were treated with immense brutality.
Straightjackets, shackles and all sorts of gear,
were enough to put a man in psychotic fear.
The staff comprised barbarians and sadists.
Who lacked the basic sense of morality.

Shock therapy, voltage to its max,
bound and gagged, glued to the sacks.
The jolt of the lightning hitting them hard,
enough to churn up the flesh into lard.
They drugged the sufferer, the dupe would tranquil,
the fallout was horrible, it would make them frenzied.

For those beyond cure,
who lived for mere existence,
earned their own private, privileged experiment.
A special space, a hidden chamber,
well beyond, beneath the ground.
Defecated walls, layered flesh and blood,
****** fluids scattered,
in abundance, constituting a flood.
Human torture, vicious and cruel.

In a place so dark even the demons would fear,
how could I survive? This life to me was dear.
And the patients, the patients wouldn't help,
for them it was a game, live a day, reward for the next.
Some were quiet, lost in their own world,
speaking, whispering and talking to themselves.
Some looked sane, but stuck in paranoia,
for them the universe could any day cease to exist,
pertaining to their biggest phobia.
some were smart, they indulged in theories,
the real world mattered less to them.
And then there were the trigger-happy.
The truly maddened ones, violent with rage.
Every day was a battle, they fought within the cage.
They couldn't help me, for I wasn't crazy,
Just your usual guy, a victim of fate.

Magnolia was a place, where people ****** away their souls,
I wasn't ready to sell mine.
I had to escape, make an elaborate design.
There were no doctors at night, just the cruel handy-men,
had all the time in the world to formulate a plan,
question was, to execute when?

One night the attendant came,
wearing  a strange jumpsuit,
pen in breast-pocket,
woke me up and proclaimed, 'Get up you imbecile,
it's your turn in the lab today.
Stand up now, I ain't got all day!'
'HAH! You could try young man, to put me down,
but I ain't going to your lousy town'.
To this he smacked at my retort,
and laughed with a disgusting little snort.
'One more time you test my good nature,
and I swear to God I'll ruin your caricature.'
'Go ahead then give it your best shot,
You want me dead, do you not?'.
His laughter, this time, deafened the silence all around.
'You're dead fool! If it were up to me I'd skin you flesh and bone,
The amount of ruckus you create, the annoyance you hone,
But the good doctor has plans and once he's done with you..'
His unfinished sentence struck a nerve so strong,
my eyes rolled over,
what could possibly go wrong?

So the man with the strange jumpsuit,
dragged me all the way to the office.
The dimly lit room, ornamented a large crucifix.
Dear lord, you see how they mock?
Came back the degenerate with a big round lock.
'Oh yes, this is for you my friend,
chains aren't enough, straightjacket I will get.
Sit still you half-wit, else you'd regret'.
And I smiled and waited.
He returned as promised, with the piece of vestiary,
a twisted sense of humor, whoever built this monstrosity.

He stared where I looked, into his breast pocket.
'What's missing pal?' I asked in amusement.
He stopped everything and looked around.
With a motion so fast, it could only fly by,
gripping the pen, I poked him in the eye.
Ink exuded instead of blood,
the large man fell, loud with a thud.
The immense pain had him in shock,
now was the time for me to run amok.
But I kept focus, and ran for the door,
promised myself never to look back anymore.
Eloped with the only chance I foxed.


Insanity Reigned


The source of light was so strong,
I twitched a lot, just to see what's going on.
Caged in a room, no wait, a theatre!
****! I was so close to getting out.
The staff, I assume, were prepared all along.
Hatched a sinister plot, to show where I belong.
They had me now, tied to a work bench,
metal clasps around my wrist,
belted to the maximum limit.
For some odd reason they had me gagged,
the tape tasted foul, hygiene they lacked.
I wrestled my wrists with the wrought metal clamp.
But they were tight, wouldn't budge,
getting them off needed more than a nudge.

Alas the doctor came, with a frown upon his face,
With great ruefulness, he peeled off the tape.
'You caused us a great deal of trouble today.
None of our methods have impacted on you, what do you have to say?'
'Serves you right, you junk-less freak!' I was happy he was disappointed,
'That's not a very nice thing to say' responded the doctor, almost agitated.

He picked up an instrument,
a big long nail, the pointed end was so sharp,
I could feel it piercing through my brain.
Next he lifted a mallet,
which shone so bright it reflected upon my face.
To what devilish purpose could they serve?
The doctor took his time, and allowed me to observe.
He wore his mask, the mask of a surgeon,
at this time of the night? Surely he wasn't
planning to operate on me.
'Leave me alone, what are you doing?
Surely you know I'm not to be blamed, I don't belong here.
This is insane!'
'Wrong again 66, the society would never accept you.
You killed your wife and children, ******'s on you.'
It was at this moment the specter re-appeared, right behind the doctor.
Calling me, my name,
'They're all lying, you didn't **** anyone, they're framing you.'
'LIAR!' I spat at the doctor, 'You know she's is alive and waiting for me at the doorstep,
As always' I said.
'Yes she is waiting, but only at her death bed.'
'LIAR! You know my kids are sleeping peacefully at home!'
'Yes they are, but the sleep is eternal.'
'LIES! I can't **** a person,not even a fly!'
'And yet you poked my assistant right in the eye!'

The specter now appeared closer,
in a calming tone almost a whisper,
'Do not believe a word they said.
You're not a killer, just a victim of fate.'
Exactly, that's precisely what I meant.

With all the strength my voice box could muster,
I cried so hard the doctors ears could rupture.
' LIES! LIES! ALL LIES! You won't get away with this, the truth will come out.
Why would I ever **** them for crying out loud?'

'You're right, the truth shall come out, but not in this form, not from you.
66 has to die, a fact you always knew.'

No one dies today

'Hold him still.' The good doctor ordered.
A pair of hands inclined my head south,
Another pair, taped away my mouth.
I could hear music, a soft hum.
It had calmed me down ,that bass drum.
It kept beating at regular intervals.
The specter now, beside me,
placing her hand on my shoulders.
I looked up towards the sky, a light bulb
glowed right above my nose.
The doctor raised the nail,
a dot replaced the light source.
As the blot grew in size,
the light dimmed, luminance was minimized.
The music almost placid,
it made me smile, a smile so gentle.
The doctor enounced,
'This will only hurt a little.'
And as he struck, the spirit vanished,
the music stopped.


Insanity Triumphed
Part 2 of The 'Karma' trilogy
Taylor Marotto Aug 2012
I can't help but doubt you or
Your loyalty
My heart clutched by fear
Insecurely, I worry
that I'm not enough.
Insincerely, you assure me,
No need to think so much
My mind is on fire
The Pressure
is creeping.
Slowly but surely
gripping my throat
It has left me breathless
and blue.
Redshift Aug 2015
******* nothing threatening to draw me close
hold me like the *** freak in his chest did
stroking my hair and cooing in my ear
dripping words as he puts his hand between my legs

ringed fingers gripping my neck
shoving away my frightened fingers
trying to break free
on the couch
he ruined my favorite movie as a child
taking my body from my control as it played in the background
a sick contrast

jesus reminding me what i am losing
in my mistakes
as i cling to the cross they crucify me on
the man that forces himself on me
a much bigger
more tangible one
than the god that told my father
it was okay
for him to come
stay
Eileen Auger May 2014
Fingernails bleed,
worn ragged
with gripping
the lip of the abyss.

Clawing its crumbling edge
struggling to see light above,
she won't look down
at the blackness below.

Arms and fingers burn
with the strain of holding on,
the spark of light flickers
ominously.

And she wonders,
will she sink like a stone
or float like a feather
to the bottom?

E Auger
Hi again, it’s been a long time
You have and haven’t been here,
But I kind of thought you’d died.
Well no, how could I ever think that?
Don’t you think I always knew you were there?
It was extremely weird though:
You let me have things.

I walked into shops and I
Spoke to people.
At the beginning of your holiday,
I was sitting in class and trying to bring you back.
When everyone ditches you and even your social anxiety finally does.
I mean wow though, I was walking around and
You weren’t gripping my body,
I just did stuff, knowing that you shouldn’t let me.

Don’t worry, I knew there were still things that you wouldn’t let me do,
I couldn’t get a job like a normal person,
Even though I needed to.
I feel like it sounds stupid though, when I try to explain how far away you are,
Barely there, basically not,
Yet there’s still things I can’t do because you’re not that gone.

So you were really there the whole time,
But it was just so great,
Except from everyone else ruining things.
Social anxiety though? Good; it may as well have been gone.
It still feels like a lie writing this,
Because there’s no way you eased off for basically two years.
That is not a thing.

Now that I know I definitely had some sort of anxiety attack,
I don’t know, I think I’m calm again now
Just don’t think about it, just don’t think about it.
I’ve been reading a story I wrote when you were still wild every day,
I already knew you were more present,
But I found it crazy because I read what I wrote and actually thought:
I don’t even do this anymore.
But I guess I’m home now, in you.

People will read this and think that’s great
(and it is astounding, I’d never believe you),
But I don’t think I feel anything.
Do I get my excuses back now?
Can I use them again?
I have social anxiety, LET ME STAY INSIDE,
Now maybe it won’t be about me being normal like other people,
Because now I’ll know you’re here.

Whereas before it would be like “really, you can’t? I think you can, why not?”
No, wrong topic Chloe,
That’s what people say about your physical health.
And you managed to not come back throughout all that?
No one believed me, but I still don’t think you were there.
I tried so hard to politely prove them they were lying.
I told them how I’m great without you,
But no one ever listens
And now I’m reminded of the things I stupidly said,
So lets just tie all my problems together
And I’ll just go daydream until death again.
Because I'm a naturally self-protective person, I feel like I need to explain everything I wrote about so people understand. I won't though, I'm holding back, except when I say excuses I don't mean for the sake of making an excuse, I meant that it was valid and I'd need it.

Anyway, I just wrote this after getting out of an anxious situation which was fine, until like a few certain words were directed questioningly at me to be honest.
elle Oct 2018
I saw you withering
before me, like I felt the air in my diaphragm build up slow
then fall out shakily.

I saw my grandmother wince
put her hand to her mouth,
side-ways gripping this tiny Chaplain
who’s name I’d forgotten, the moment I heard it.

I saw my cousin staring deep into empty space, his nervousness illuminated
under harsh hospital light. My uncle’s red tie screaming in this room of too tired eyes,
wearing reddened faces from crying.

The fear of this reality bit at our ankles. We shifted in place, we talked about the Sox game. We dared each other to keep on pretending to carry on.

Through this blur,
I saw you underneath piles of tubes.
Lain upon the bed a shattered man
shoulder blades peeking upward and out in what was poised to be
an eternal shrug
head hung, eyes fluttering, only held up in increments of straining. Straining to be part of this conversation about nothing.
About your impending death.

Rounds of tears and silence
rounds of nurses coming
and going,
rounds of knowing
then suddenly,
not knowing.

Propped up by a tank of air, a bag of liquid, a ton of pillows and the slow-burning will to live.
It’s hard to see the end coming when it’s around the corner. It’s hard to feel the truth when is rises up inside, hot tears and quivering words. Before you know it, you said what may be your last words to him. Before you know it you’re in an elevator, then a car, then you’re waking up and it’s months or years away. But you will still feel it- that hot sadness, that burning ache for that tiny space carved out in you, from when he gripped your hand so tightly and opened his eyes and stared into your face. His presence firmness so captivating, like my face held his only hope, like it was the only place for his big blue eyes to lay their path on. Like he is still looking at me. For answers. For a tomorrow. And I try to live like he’s watching. And I try tell myself he is.
Ezra Nov 2014
Sometimes I look up at the clouds,
And I hear the music
Ringing in my ears
And I think

It's us against the world,

Yeah,

It's us against the world.

Sometimes I just feel that it's unfair,
That God's balance beam
Is just too narrow,
That I can't hold on,
That I'm falling,
I'm falling back down to Earth,
Just like a modern-day
Lucifer

Then you catch me,
You hold on,
You're gripping me tightly and your hair's in my face,
And I'll never fall,
'Cause,
You're my counter-weight;

Yeah,

It's us against the world...
Sethnicity May 2015
It’s
In my story
just an obserVation
Another standard deviation
to Whittle Words for the World around
Wound like Fickle filament of Fire bulb wire.
the Vapor trails of Vehement Volcanoes Venting
A parent le miserables dat carousel and Care to Sell excel Lance
While lamp lighting a way to free-dumb with Lyrical Trance
Gripping Gravity concentrated illuminated
SusStained on moments of brilliance
Burst stardust nova eXperience
We LackLustorLove
and rise above
emo poverty
evergreen
Bloom!

Poet Trees…
Candy Flip Mar 2016
When I was a child, there was something mildly special about standing in the garden, late into the minutes leading up to my bed time. It was something about the thrill of disobedience, as if I were already an adult, making my own decisions.

This poem is about my testicles.

A thousand twinkling freckles gazed down at me. Joining the dots with a finger extended high as if gripping an imaginary pen, lines would appear. The celestial wrinkles of an old woman who wears these wrinkles with pride – the imprint left by a lifetime of smiles like how an old arm chair wears the imprint left by a lifetime of back-sides.

A singular eye governs the sky, and through what I interpret as a flirty act of desire, winks at me, through a thirty day cycle. I let out a giggle, and wink back.

On the horizon, trees sway in a purposeful and rhythmic way, as if conducting a symphony meant just for me; the delicate harmony of distant car horn beeps, the melody of crickets and bird tweets, and the gentle percussion of snapped twigs and crushed leaves.

Blades of wet grass become fingers seductively passing between my toes. A gust of wind blows and like a comb, massages out the knots in my hair, whispering through a foreign tongue pros into my ear.

And I can feel it inside, a connection with the night. As passion builds, a bird takes flight, and I let out a confident breath: I am in love with life! I’m in love with the Earth, warm days and clear skies. I’m in love with nature: the birds and mammals, snails, slugs, spiders and flies.

I await a reply.

Which doesn’t come.

Years go by.

And then, half way through my puberty, when the world was not so alien and new to me, I had the sad epiphany that maybe this symphony of car horns and bird tweets was not meant for me.

That, if I were not standing precisely here, or had tragically lost both my ears, the trees would continue to conduct their tune, unstirred by the news that their audience had disappeared.

And with this realisation, came an audible, synchronised plop, as – like a penny – my two ***** simultaneously dropped as if recoiling, paralysed in shock.

Then in the following silence, a tumbleweed drifted by as if to imply some kind of mockery to the thoughts going through my mind.

But of course, it was just a coincidence. The tumbleweed, in its oblivious innocence has no knowledge of the context of my thoughts, like a bolt of lightning can’t appreciate its momentary grasp of dominance over an angry sky. Like an atom doesn’t appreciate the burden of the service it provides, like a poem doesn’t appreciate the metaphors woven purposefully between every line.

And how could I sleep at night knowing that a hurricane could slip into existence, tear its way through a village of innocents then ******* in an instant leaving no form of apology or reason?

This is the dilemma of owning a conscious mind in a world of impartiality.

And if you don’t mind, I’m going to divide this audience into two sides: those who are matured and wise, and when they look at the night sky, see those wrinkles reflected in their own eyes – and those who are young and naïve, to whom this insight may come as a surprise.

To the wise and mature, I assure you that we are all in fact slowly dying. The only reason you’re alive is through generations of successful breeding and surviving. God is dead, and love is a chemical compound produced in your head.

And to the young and naïve, I’ll leave you with this line: despite the pessimistic undertones this poem implies, if you just don’t worry, you’ll turn out just fine.
I will now write all my poetry in pros as I feel like it leaves more freedom for my presentation.
Jesha Sep 2017
With dull brown eyes the color of death
He grins a grin,
My grin,
The grin reserved for me.
I half expect the soft tissue of my heart
To be chunked between his ivory teeth,
It's blood and love guts
Splattering.
Popping.
Like a strawberry gusher.

He reaches out a hand.
A claw.
I grab it tight,
Gripping the cactus that he is,
Welcoming the force of his tiny needles
Because I can't resist the pleasure pain.

He drags me in.
Kisses me, warm and colorful and sharp.
I taste blood.
His or mine?
I hope both.
Destruction should always come in pairs.

He smells of adventure.
He smells of heartbreak.
I want to **** him.
Strangle him.
Squeeze my small frame into his rotting carcass
And bathe in his guts and soul.
I grab his neck, dig my nails in.
His teeth ravage into my swollen flesh.
He wants to eat me.
Absorb me.
I will let him.

We're just limbs of flesh,
Bones grinding against bones.
Hair pulled so hard it burns so good,
Fine strands floating away,
Orphaned.
Our souls scream and scream and scream.

Love.
Hate.
One in the same.
Primal.
An all consuming violation of the body and soul.
More more more.
We can never get enough.
Work in progress... Dedicated to the one whose darkness played well with mine.
Terry Collett Oct 2013
Isolde looks from the window
of her old bedroom,
she's not been in there
since they took her
to the asylum years before.

Tristana, her lover,
is sitting on a white chair
on the lawn
talking to Isolde's mother.

Her mother has the same
pinched features,
thin lips as if drawn
across in ink,
the narrow nose,
peering eyes.

Isolde smells
the mustiness
of the room,
the curtains the same,
the wallpaper fading.
Her mother's eyes  
have a look
of fear in them.

Her sister sits
beside her mother
hawk-like,
hands on the arms
of the chair,
eyes fixed
with that steady stare.

Isolde recalls
the last time
in the room:
the night they
came for her,
men in white coats,
the ambulance waiting,
flashing lights,
voices shouting,
her sister crying,
her father ordering
this and that
(the prat).

Father's dead now,
good riddance,
she muses,
running a finger
down the pane of glass,
seeing her lover
sitting there,
gesturing with her hands,
head tilted to one side.

Not once
did her mother visit her
in the asylum,
not a word sent
or love or concern
expressed.

She sits on the bed,
the springs complain,
the bedspread
pushes out dust.

She remembers Tristana
that first time
in the asylum,
that first meeting,
the side ward,
the nurse dragging her
along the passage,
cursing, gripping
her nightgown.  

The fat nurse let her
drop by the bed;
Tristana sat on the floor
wide eyed,
opened mouthed.

Isolde had struck the nurse
with the flower vase,
smashed it,
flowers spread
across the floor.

The nurse's head bled.
Looked worse than it was.
She smiles.
They locked her up
for weeks for that,
saw none,
except the nurses
who fed
and bathed her
cruelly.

Worth it.
She moves on the bed,
the springs sing.

She gets up
and goes
to the window again.

Tristana is subdued now;
the mother is talking,
moving her hands in the air
as if learning to fly.

Her sister sits crossed legged,
hands on her knees.
Dumb expression.
The mother mouths words,
moves her head
to one side bird-like.

Isolde recalls
the first kiss
on Tristana's lips.
In the toilets
off the ward,
evening time,
overhead lights
flickering.

Lips meeting,
soft, wet,
eyes closed.

They slept in
Tristana's bed
in dead of night,
close for warmth,
hands holding,
bodies touching.

The mother looks up
at the window,
her eyes empty,
hollow dark holes.
She gestures to Isolde
to come down,
her thin hand
moving icily.

Isolde walks
from the window.
On the glass,
where she had breathed
breath to smear,
she had finger written,
Isolde's mind and soul
once died here.
C Sep 2010
I miss being filled with a sense of here and now from
the unclouded mental vision of youth before
the eclosion from adolescent reverie to
adult delusions.
Every moment thereafter
being crystallized with serene debasement of self.
With age eagerly gripping the hand of heartache,
will you worry about losing relevance?
survey says, an astounding "YES"
Frightening,
knee-knocking
shoot the stranger who walks at dusk questions arise...
How long will my mental faculties survive this torment of existence?
How long till I am the stranger blinded and in the dark?
How long till I am the fly caught in a web of ineptitude?
Forever the convalescent,
I revel in and reveal the depths of human insolence.
For, ever striving to be the emotion-less outsider,
I become buried beneath the
inherent
ephemerality
of
cerebral
acuity.
Authors note- I suffer from many things, angst not being one of them.
Rose Amberlyn May 2014
Have you ever wanted something so badly, that you forget the
repercussions?
When you gaze into someone's eyes and can see their past.
And can imagine their future.

That vulnerability so fragile.
Putting all you have into their hands, and praying for a miracle.
That connection that breaks your heart, brings you to tears,
and that makes you feel alive.
Is that what love is?

Wanting to be so close to someone,
that you read their every thought.
Gripping that overwhelming rush that bends and shapes your soul.
Accepting all that they are.
Every single freckle, word and flaw.

Is that what love is?
A speechless hold envelops your whole being.
And shakes you from the inside.
This strange and haunting need.
That will forever captivate you and turn you back and forth,
within the soft touch of Love's hands.
Terry Collett May 2013
The peacocks were behind wire
the sun warm
cloudless sky
and Monica had ridden

beside you on her bike
knowing her brothers
were out with the older brother

you not knowing had gone
to the farm house
to meet them
o they’re out

their mother said
didn’t they tell you?
no they‘d not

you walked to your bike
and got on
where you going?
Monica asked

don’t know now
you replied
I can ride with you

wherever you decide
she said
her mother
hands on hips said

don’t go bothering Benedict
he doesn’t want no girl
hanging on his tails

he don’t mind
Monica said
looking at you
her big eyes pleading

don’t mind if she comes
you said
giving the mother

a smile
if you’re sure
she said
and walked back

toward the farmhouse
her backside moving
side to side

in her flowery dress
and you watched
until she had gone
sure you don’t mind

me coming?
no I don’t mind
you said

where we going then?
the peacocks again
o I like them
she said

climbing her bike
foot on the pedal
ready for the push off

her sandals open toed
bare feet
the off white skirt
contrasted

with the mauve top
her hair dragged
into a bow

at the back
ready?
sure am
and you rode off

along the track
from the farmhouse
into the lane

between trees
and hedgerows
she followed at your side
keeping up

her eyes seeming
on fire
her hands gripping

the handlebar
white and pink
and the small fingers
holding on for dear life

her legs up and down
pedalling
you felt the wind

in your hair
through the open neck
of your white shirt
pushing down

the jean covered legs
up and down
the lane narrowed

then widened
there they are
she called
the peacocks

she dismounted
and laid her bike
against a tree

and ran to the wire fence
and peered through
you put your bike
by the hedge

and walked over
to where she stood peering
her eyes bright

and fiery
how comes the *****
are bright and colourful
but the hens are so dull?

she asked
that’s how it is
in the bird world

you said
hens are just dull
I’m not dull
she said

holding the wire
with her fingers
making noises

at the birds
am I?
she said
looking at you

beside her
no you’re not
you said

nothing dull
about you at all
I’m like a peacock
she said

bright and beautiful
aren’t I?
sure you are

you said
you peered
at the strutting peacock
nearest the wire

out of the corner
of your eye
you saw Monica

nose inches
from the wire
call to the bird
her lips pursed

and opening
and closing
her arms soft

and reaching up
I’m a peacock bird
she said
her arms in motion

like wings
her hands flopping
above her head

her feet in dance
stepping
and dancing in turn
you watched her dance

and twirl
Jim and Pete’s sister
the peacock girl.
Just Me Sep 2015
Put you there
slide deep within my thighs, warm and dampened
kiss me with your fingertips hands feel me inside
Fingers deep and as strong as you
find my moans
Let the river flow

Thoughts at the speed of light only a genuine lust can conceive

Sparkling skin, wetter with every touch consume my physical soul
Screaming lips and a caressing tongue don't save me now devour me whole
Movement sweeter then any slow dance, the power and precision of any known art

Bodies closer then my own flesh
Gripping hands led only by fierce eyes and *****
Rip me open ramming stealth
Quicken me till my breath won't allow
Hurricane tongue soften and drink

Take my nails and craving teeth
Slow and steady, rough and and hard
Take it all
Give and give me all
My skins tingling take your ravenous bite
Drain me now as I drain you
Finish with a rhythmic pattern
Beat us colliding shooting thunder

Bind us with our rain
Drain drain drain us
Till beautiful pain and sensual screams are no more
bodies release, and fall weak...
Want no more...
Don't kiss me sweet
Kiss my feet
Goddess, queen
You my king
This marriage is only our bodies vow
Natures wonders all of them felt

Echoing forever sinful smile
Lingering passion I'll savor
In my most precious darkest liquid dreams
And when we meet again...
No sheets
All but love .... A bodies calling
S Smoothie Feb 2019
The missing takes hold gripping like a noose

The words choked out of existence

A blink of thought

Like trying to catch words of thunder flashing through rolling clouds

Waiting for the deluge of word soaked verse only to watch it Roll by overhead

without a drop off  to nourish some other poets pen.

Life churns the seas of revelations

but the waves won't let me catch a breath for a beat.

Dry pen, parched paper and a world to soak in inches from the shore

A shipwreck smothered by the sand

I count the stars instead

An estimate in a glance

As I Think of the endless possibilities

And how insignificant I am

That the words that i have captured

Remain the legacy of what there is

When of words there is nothing to gain

But the release of joy and pain

Into the universe

and if not written will not remain.



Then I am but a blink of ink that mearly left a smudge

Barely enough to stain.
Never enough time to capture the verses parading across my mind
Rip Lazybones Mar 2016
Even on this soap box do I feel small
What follows truly means nothing at all
Political forces standing arm in arm
Together they chant "vote for me, I won't cause any harm."
Don't peek behind their wall
You won't sleep as well, maybe not even at all
The same named corporate boogeymen rigging the game
What a deal, they get cash and the fame
How about other spots on this rock we share in space
Children working to craft the shoes you lace
The crowned family of the sand gripping the bear by the coin purse
But at least it is cheaper to fill up your hearse
Wait, don't look outward, hold onto your bliss
Things aren't perfect, but they could be worse
Go get burned by the sun or moon light
Grow something from this rock, it is an utter delight
Don't sleep, experience the entirety of night
Leave your mind, temporarily give up your sight
The ground below will dutifully take all your fright
Empty your heart, dump all of the world out from inside
Find an animal in which you can confide
Live as you please, and don't listen to ramblers like me
I'm just talking from the bottom of a cup of coffee or tea
And I leave this purely as proof of the continuation of my life
Now if you will excuse me, I must hide from the sunlight

— The End —