Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Carter Ginter Apr 2017
I spend much of my life
within the confines of my mind
Some days I am unsure
Whether I am dead or Alive

But the medication that I cling to
removes the existential fear
and allows my thoughts to relax
yet, it also seems to suppress my wonder

Without the pills,
I can intently watch myself write
As each stroke of my small wrist
Leaves grey stains across the blank page

With them, I can feel happiness
I can detach myself from life's pain
and realize my distractions
instead of permitting them to anchor my heart

But with my medicine I cannot create
not in the ways I wish to
They build a border between substance and surface
while it blocks out the depression
it also limits my humanity

Yet, if I were to quit taking them
the darkness would return to haunt my world
strangling my limbs, until I have no will to fight
or even to move for that matter

Without them, I can expend myself
in this art that has kept my heart beating
My emotions can freely guide my movements
in the hopes of creating something beautiful

But those pills have also saved my life
and yet, they have a dark side too
The anxiety they breed produce
such a significant strain on my actions
that I can't tell if I'm truly living

So as I sit in this barren hallway
listening to the echoes that disrupt the silence
I wonder whether my temporary refrain from my "lifelines"
will lead to my success or my demise.
Sitting in the hallways
So alone, so cold
But then people come moving quickly
Like the people in Time Square
Or at a fair
But just as they came
They’re gone again
And I’m all alone again
Just me and the lockers
I wrote this one 4 years ago too. I wrote it at my high school
when I was in homeroom and was waiting for the bell to ring,
staring at the empty hallway.
JParker Feb 7
A hallway.
for me and you
was a couple of leaps between shadows
to
laughter followed by scolding
and
right back to the hallway again.

Once,
You made
Five hundred and thirty-six miles
A hallway.

A carpet trail
Turned sinuous backcountry roads
In the dark of late fall,
The skeletal trees
Of Upstate New York
Unlike our home’s shoe-print walls.

My eyes burned with relief
At the headlights of your car.
Lugging puffy blankets through my door
Laughing at your air mattress,
To my roommate’s dismay,
Taking up the floor.

From highways to new hallways
Laced with your memories  
Those concrete corridors
In their freedom-filled, fluorescent glory.

To our current hallway,
Where your door mirrors mine
Where you paint with 5 o’clock sunlight
On my freckled face.
The smell of cheaply brewed coffee
That we separately make.
Katie Miller Jan 1
12/22/2018

I’m walking through the halls
Trapped in by suffocating walls
I’m walking through the doors
Over the decaying floors
Who has walked through them?
And where were they walking from?
A broken desk
Or a secluded bathroom stall?
Memories and laughter or
Tears and sobs evermore?
Have these hallways heard confessions?
Or witnessed just depression?
Have they made memories of laughter ?
Have these windows shown truth of all of the lies?
Or only a glimpse of an aggravated sunrise?
Are the walls shrines of the past?
Holders of all questions asked?
If the curtains wave in the gentle autumn breeze
Is there still an ill wanted disease?
The dilapidated ceiling watched over inhabitants
Still built perfectly built but falling apart
And visitors that were seen as contaminants
The unwanted one
The one no one would notice if they were gone
The same one that screamed for help here
For anyone to be near
Or the one who was popular
A class A top gossiper
The one with a sharp tongue
But no one knows that it’s wrong
The hallways whisper the secrets
Of their strongest weakness
The halls tell the stories they may
Of friends on their departing highway
And the friends who are just meeting
Smiles, laughter and a warm greeting
I’m walking through the halls
Trapped in by suffocating walls
I’m walking through the doors
Over the decaying floors
Waiting for a voice to hear
For anyone to show they're near
Waiting here forever
I won't leave this place, never
I wrote this poem after someone in our school committed suicide. I didn't know him too well, but it was still upsetting and shocking. As I was walking down the halls, I realized all these different things: he walked through that door, that was his locker, he laughed in this hallway, he ate at one of these lunch tables. I'm hoping that this poem describes all of this with just words.
Dark Fjord Dec 2016
the , is a weak glass . in your life sentence
and eyes color purplexed and cool, neblastick
colours me, inslides these lines, commands my presents.

gems are cold
like ice in the eye rolling them stones
throne, to the hallways, I go with pennies.
cheap change
misha Sep 2018
stop
kissing
me in
the corner
of our school
where
no one
can see
us

but maybe
start
being
a friend to
me so
that everyone
knows
that i'm
more than
your toy

stop calling
me when
you're drunk
with your friends
and call me names
"what a ****."

you'd laugh like
you told a joke
but really
you know
you're lying

don't push
me in
the hallways
and act
like it
means
nothing,
like i
mean
nothing

i know
you only
say those
words
and do
those things
to get me
out of your
head

but i hope
you realize
that you're
not the
only
one
who's
afraid
Meredith Ann Jan 14
Suddenly, I understand it all.
Yet the world is a mystery and I am lost in it.

Ages are a time and emotion.
13 is mid afternoon. Lagging and energetic.
15 is the morning sun. Rising groggy and regretful.

17? 17 is the night.
17 is the span between 11-1.
When you aren't wild yet but things are certainly different.
17 is the city lights and no seatbelt.
17 is the teenage cliché,
shadowed by the unknown of what is to come.

17 is crying in the hallways and stargazing on the lawn.
17 is having a bottle of ***** under the bed,
but being too scared to drink it.
17 is Ribs and loneliness,
As you watch the night slip away and the knowledge hits you that you now have to wait for morning.

17 is the unknown.
17 is taking risks.
Not because you are brave,
but because you don't have anything left to give.
17 is to be lost,
but to be okay with that.

17 is slowly coming down from the high of growing up,
Reflecting on all you have lived,
As you patiently wait for your life to begin.
written 4/19/18
Sara Kellie Mar 17
Angels with torches lighting my way
down grand, windowed hallways
I'll walk down one day.
With framed, pictured memories
highlighting my past.
Flickering candles,
a shadow I cast.
All the while,
wondering why I am here.
This is the story of my yesteryear.
I suddenly realise that this is the end.
A man holds his hand out
and says
"Welcome my friend"

Poetry by Kaydee.
Visions of my last walk.
Kai Jul 27
don't tell me                           don't tell me
all the things                          what was said
they whispered                      behind cupped hands
in the dark                              in the hallways

Don't tell me of their dark whispering words of hurt
I just wanted to try out this weird formatting. So, this is just like a poetry experiment, don't mind me I'm just trying out new styles.
JayceeJellies Nov 2014
I see you beginning to walk my way.
You were holding papers in your hands that day.
I thought that I could cry at any second,
But I lied to myself when I realised that I already was.

As you began to walk right by me,
I stopped you and asked "Where're you going?"
You told me you were leaving.
And I just stared as you proceeded to walk down these hallways.

I don't know how to feel anymore,
My heart is crying and it burns.
It's so sore.
But in the end you left me.

Just like everyone always does.
Nico Julleza Jul 2017
Anxious
Dull, a boy is he
names he would not plea
eyes like baby blue-
lips a crimson hue
Feelings like me and you

Reclusive
Outsiders he'd not choose
In his mansions he bore
luring himself-
with enchanting lore's
drifting away, loosing woes

A Xenos
Traveling in his hallways
unknown, ominous
a wretched life he portrays
even in his heart, he'd say-
"Loneliness, such a Cliché"

Forsaken
Befriended, unseen
though he's not a devil
-for I believe
tortured, battered on thee
delude by his mistress' skim

He Left
portals out from misery
gone himself eagerly
then comes back, with such
-A Victory
for now, a statured man is he

Knights & Kings
upon bended knees
and everything he please
from a man to a boy
-in a dream
A Castle, now he redeems
YES TO "ANTI-BULLYING"
Support "ANTI-BULLYING"

#Boy #Castle #Man #Dream

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
K Paige Aug 2014
your bones like gravestones
prominent among the barren skin
you laugh the whisper of the dead
and your teeth fell out from caring

you were beautifully ruined
by thunderstorms in your head
your smile is all but dead
you can't stand the sight of yourself

you have fallen among the rest
skeletons of who they used to be
a wounded army of solders
fighting for peace within their souls

the body count is heartbreaking
for mothers who clean up the blood
and wish they could've been happier
as they gasped for air with burnt lungs

high school hallways are turned into
a backwards funeral procession
they mourn the living
because they all feel dead

paradise is their only cure
but what is the definition
longing for an infinite silence
muted mouths rejoice at the emptiness

everything about you is wrong
but the presence of individuality
has quieted and so has
the sound of your beating heart
Kurt Carman Mar 12
I am here,
my Eyes are closed.
Only You and the paradise island your on can see me

Then Pisces appears & shows me the way,
Hallways, familiar faces greet me,
My soul and body are renewed.

It's when I see you Mom,
My March 14th Birthday girl,
Victorian tea cups and saucers....

Come back, please come back,
I miss you like a mothers love
A bond that lives forever.

I'll never get over losing you.

Waiting to reunite with you...and I know... because the day which we fear the most....
Is but the Birthday of our eternity.
I think of you each and every morning....it won't be long now.
D Awanis Jan 2018
Her soul is tired now
and all she ever wanted to do was
calming her crowded mind
and resting her heavy heart

Her soul is tired now
and the only path she’d go through
was no longer runaway full of eyes
but an empty and quiet hallways

Her soul is tired now
and the dreams are no longer dreams,
they became possessions and hunger
that consumes her alive

Her soul is tired now
as the passion slowly fades away
and the flame in her eyes began to vanish
can’t you feel the absence of her warmth?
Time
There's always time
To think
To wonder
To long
For all the answers
To all the questions

Mind
Over matter
Wandering through hallways
Searching
Longing
My heart knows
My mind matters
Haley Oct 2018
Right when you
Think you have everything
Right when you
Think you're happy
It all ends
Someone ruins it
You ruin it
Life ruins it
Because it always ends
Today that Bliss
Ended
That one day of Bliss
Then its gone
A simple text
A simple statement of
"I don't think we can ever be friends again"
As the sadness washes over you
You realize that text
Can **** a soul
Can **** a mind
Can **** a heart
And can **** a friendship
A friendship of four years
That you will always remember
With a person you trusted
And to realize
You will never celebrate a birthday
With them
Never have that hours of laughs
With them
Never walk the hallways talking
With them
Again
You hope the best
For them
You want them to thrive
You want them to have a great future
but sadly
You will no longer
Be a part of that
grace snoddy Mar 2018
lying awake
and looking for all of the answers
in my ceiling.

asking why
it has to be me who feels this way
               (feeling completely lifeless, and absolutely hopeless)

asking You
               “haven’t you taken enough from me?”
               “why must you haunt my dreams?”

and the only bit of light i have
comes from the streetlight by my window,
it shines on You.

and from the corner i hear You,
with a vacant and harrowing tone.
and the detached vowels and consonants
echo throughout the hallways.
they hang themselves on the wall
as a reminder.

               “they say nothing kills a man faster than his own head”.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns)*

Sittin' on the dock of the bay,
Watching the sun slip, Simon-says, slide away,
Cheeks blushing flushing from orange ray-guns,
Drinking blush rosé to oil our eyes
For the subtle story the sky shortly will reveal,
For the subtle story the sky shortly will revel.

Grievous judgement to make,
Thinkin' skills possessed to praise,
When but yesterday I easy confessed,
At the Blue Canoe I did not.

(The clouds were magnificent. No, I cannot write a poem about the cloud colors. Their shape shifting inexhaustible.  Mine eyes high on their creativity.  I'm just not good enough a poet to tamper with that sky.)*

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.

No impulse. We pledged that tonight, ours,
One hour of sunset over Silver Beach.
Brought the wine, forgot the pillows,
So Abraham & Sarah went prepared to sacrifice
All feelings in their butts for the greater glory
Of love and one of nature's great poetic challenges..

The conundrum~miracle of every sunset
O'er bay, lake or ocean, is its special,
Only-In-Nature unique way of customizing
Its descent just for you.

No matter where one observes,
No matter where you worship,
Wherever your temple, mosque or church situé,
Tennessee, Rhode Island, the Philippines,
Germany, Colombia, even in the ole U.K.,
(yes, you, know it, yes you)
The very same setting sun we all see,
Sends a magic dazzle gold orange path invitation
To the exact spot you are voyeuring,
One sun, all destinations equal before human.

How can that be?

Trepidation and tremblingly,
The clouds.

She leans on me, a perfect fit,
My back resting against a pylon,
So we see the clouds
With common exactitude,
But it is a quiet time, silence only shared.
Images stored silently within ourselves,
For we see the formation, man, woman,
Precisely and exactly, totally differently.

The clouds.
An armada moving imperial and imperiously
At a stately speed, saying I am awesome, fear me.
The largest cloud bank is an aircraft carrier,
Miles long, painted horizon blue-grey unsurprisingly.

The small white wisps, fast destroyers, stealthy submarines,
Moving fast to protect the mother ship,
Running random to confuse enemy radar and the
Pathetic, limited, human eye.

The colors.
Here I fail willingly, unashamedly.
So many sunsets, so many hearts,
All different, all the same.
Lacking knowledge, I cannot tender,
I cannot offer you tenderness to love
Enough,
The variety of oranges, gold, varietals interspersed
By the pinks, the cornea, singed,
And mock myself for all my meager brain yields is
Good Humor creamsicle comparison...a delicious irony

You who write after midnight
Of razor blades, pills and shotguns,
And not marked two decades even, on this planet,
You want hard,
Write a poem about a sunset in ways never done before.

You, who are wracked with despair
Speak to the man with no job for months
And mouths to feed and a life insurance policy.
Speak to me.

I want to tell you to get over yourself,
But you reject that old saw. Ok.
Get onto to yourself.

I have walked the hallways of deep despair,
Heard the bells ring between periods that signal only the next
Hell,
And to this day, still do,
But still I try to write external of sunsets and greater glories.

How many lives depend on you? Are you proud of your weakness?
Do you hate me yet for acknowledging out loud,
We are both cowards?

I have five mouths to feed,
Before I parse a morsel.
Two less than two,
What do you have but to
Grow yourself?

Yeah coward.
Too yellow to write about a
Yellow sunset, cause that is hard in a way incomprehensible
Until tried.
Or the passing of your mother who could not speak clearly
But you, thru her eyes knew that she had poems to yet recite.
Run away like I did ashamed with frustrated failure.
Why should I coddle, give you easy soft?
.
If you come here to share, well and good.
If you come here to find comfort, good.
So gaze upon these words and feel
The love that only experience has earned.

What do you know of heartbreak?
Imprisoned for decades in a loveless life,
I walked by the water nightly,
Yes, the same waters where I CinemaScoped
Yesterday's sunset, and walked away.

You can read about if you look it, look me, look here,
Look up!

So do something hard, something external.
Fail but love yourself more for just having tried.
Then try something else.

The saddest poem ever wrote
Was not yours, where you titillate with daring words
Razors, pills etc.,
The saddest poem ever writ
Was this one, a meager vanity to capture a
Sunset that keeps trying every day to
Surpass
Supersede
Its previous glorious failure,
Like we should too.
Keep trying

Now, I shall rest,
For I know that soon I shall see, feel, think,
Of something new that will make me eager to
Write a new poem.


August 3~5, 2013
When I am less tired, I wil edit the typos. But life is full of typos, but sometimes you just gotta not look back, even if you leave a trail of typos behind you. But writing this has mentally exhausted me in a different way.  I will rest from writing to recover. Dig out some old ones, maybe

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.
Matt Shaw Aug 2016
my heart has hallways

it's a lot like valhalla
only a little smaller, squishy and pinkish-red
a lot lamer. in rooms i'm playing guitar
or maybe i am playing with the dogs
or fixing myself something different to eat
hey, it was actually good

these walls caught the sound of your voice
and held onto it
when you walked with me here
i was excited but not ready
you were older
i bought you all these things
but you just got me Emily

and it's coursing through his mind
and he only wants you and he means that
and he doesn't have the patience to write a great poem right now
barely the patience to accept you won't ever date again
he can imagine other things but he rejects them in real life
he just wants you, her voice, her body
he knows it's in there if he could just dig it out but no

i've decided it's much better to leave you alone
considering me and considering you
only i ******* can't
i really, really want you back
and it kills me
every ******* day.
Leal Knowone Jul 2017
Whispering winds, rustle weeping willows,
were the corpses, and sorrow lie.
Winding beaten roads,
broke from the artery of cluttered existence.

Landing me in what reality?

Rattling minds, in longing whoa
anamnesis, horror,love denied.

Skeletons emerge,
of the forgotten foes, and mystic secrets
the world sought not to see.
Clustered hoards galloping to their doom.

Essence ripped away, by cloven hoof.
Relevant ramble from a vagrant drunken stooge.
Whisk away by the dramatic exchange of a loon.
Echoing memories bombarding the senses.

Landing me in what reality?

Echoing voices carried through hallways
were  sorrow, and corpses lie.
Big Virge Sep 2014
So …..
who are the good guys ?
in these modern times ?

Osama … Obama ... ? ?
or those … Civil type ... Guardia ... ?

What makes them good ?

The guns they use
as if they should ….
to restrain … and ... defuse
violent …. neighbourhoods ….

But … really …
Is this …………
what they do … ??!??

I've heard stories
that … relay … "Truth" ...
about the ... abuse
some Guardia … choose … !!!

Like … stripping men …
in … Spanish streets
to prove to them ….
the kinda problems
they're bound to see ...
if they don't … " Respect " ...
The Gendarmerie … !!!!!

Good guys ….. !!!?!!!

Really … ?

or … Employed … Bullies  !?!

The type who ... feed ...
of … "Abuse-filled" … Deeds … !!!

The type that make ...
young people … bleed … !!!
when guns they … parade …
aren't used … "Properly" …

Kind of like …. "Newtown" ….
where it's … clear … Gun sounds
will now … Resound ...
in The ... Hearts and Mouths
of parents … now …

Resound with … " Loss " … !!!!!
cos' a loved one's … gone … !!!!!
without a …. song ….
or … "Farewell" …… "Prolonged"

So …. ???
What was the Mantra ?
of … Adam Lanza ?

To shoot … "Repeatedly"
in a killing spree …
that took … So Many … !!!!!

Was his mind so heavy ?
that his thoughts … clearly …
had become …  "Unsteady" … !!!

So …
Where were Connecticut's
Good Guys … then … ?

with the NRA ... !?!
at a shooting range … ???

Shooting guns for …  "FUN" … !!!
while the blood of a mum
and youngsters run …..
down …. school hallways
in the … middle … of the day ???

Now the NRA says …

" Bad Guys with guns
need to face … Good Ones !!!"

Okay Okay
but … let's get this straight … !!!

It's okay for a man ...
whose been paid & trained ...
to shoot to **** ...
pretty much at will ...
cos' it's been … "Okayed" …
by the …. NRA …. !?!

Who said you were good … !!!???!!!

I learnt my lesson
watching … Charlton Heston !!!

It would seem to me ...
that NRA peeps …
care more for money
than when … children bleed … !!!!!

It's all about ... "GREED" … !!! ...
"Good Guys" ... DON'T NEED ...
to have … " Armouries " ... !!!
to ensure the streets ...
are filled with … "Peace"

and I …. for one …..
don't believe that guns
have … any function …
in …. education …. !!!!!!

Educate our youth ….. !!!
about the ...

" HARM " ... They Cause ... !!!!!!!

They need to be schooled
in … AVOIDING ... Wars ... !!!
and in …  "Avoiding" …  
……. " Depression " ………
that leads to … Harsh Lessons !!!!!

It time to ... STRENGTHEN ... !!!
our fight against guns
and time to … " LESSEN " …  !!!
"NRA" …… Type Funds …… !!!!!

that … support …  

" The Lie "

….. of …..

" Preservation of life " …
  
… through the use of …
………. Guns …………

Seeing blood … run …
" Doesn't "... signify ... FUN … !!!!!

Neither does the sight ...
of police at schools ...
with a gun by their side ….

It wasn't in view …
when … I was being schooled …

So … DON'T BE ... Fooled ... !!!
by ... "Lobbyist" ... Groups … !!!!!

when it comes to ...
"Who is Who" …

Who are they to decide … !???!
when it comes to peoples' lives ...

who the people should believe .....
  
to be …………………………

"The Good Guys !!!"
Str8 up ...

*** the NRA & all their Gun-Toting Pals !!!
Bless up people !

STOP THE VIOLENCE !!!
Oh and .... How it sounds out of my mouth ....

http://bigvirge.com/?p=3814
Next page