"harsher" poems
from rain,
should i turn into a storm?
howling like the wind,
making noise,
to get you to hear me?
more raindrops; more tears,
to make you feel
drenched in remorse?
harsher and faster,
much like a hurricane,
to get you to see
how messed up i am?
when i'm stronger
like the storm,
would you love me more?
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
You will never know
The peace of acceptance
Once you are finished
Put to earth
Life was harsher than the dirt
Parents made you feel worthless
Cause you wanted to wear a short dress
Because you felt different
Cut off
Disowned
Disavowed
One friend after another disappears
And no one hears
The sobs
No one feels the salty tears
No one holds your hands
Or offers you a hug
You were ******
By the those who demand
You conform
Where there was no warmth
The clock cuts you bitterly
Condemning you to be lonely
And I cry all the more
Knowing you won’t be the only one
Not the only daughter wanting to be a son
Not the only male that wants to be female
Not the only soft face harden
Or hard face softened till the sorrow overflows
Till everyone you know closes the door
And you disappear forever more
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
reloading old identity
cleping outdated usernames
abandoning acrostic ambitions
disputing spratly islands
receiving horizontal signals
tumbling otiose panda
impending carefree senility
otiose stage of life
shrinking ambient world
making minimal effort
duchamping social networks
ambushing personified ennui
restoring usual efforts
ignoring stupid people
adding textual value
owning this joint
rejecting ignorant extroverts
acting mutually unintelligble
hoisting stan-lee cup
replacing wanton ubiety
eluding twitter fame
splashing excessive relativism
offending another simpleton
preparing arcane cthulhusphere
crashing unpredictable festival
selecting subtextual moombahton
intensifying model topography
drafting minimal cornucopia
using nomadic project
implementing harsher personality
importing robotic inhumanity
referencing landmark event
ingesting excessive liquids
accepting relative invisibility
purchasing immortal confidence
using rhapsodical database
assuming nothing works
developing impactful eruptions
ejecting ambient frustration
synthesizing tactile festival
raining during parade
mocking rich people
mastering minimalist writing
avoiding preprandial stinkaroo
spreading non-ideological propaganda
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
A mirror reflects harsher words than I’ve ever heard,
Even if they’re slurred.
These words say they won’t grieve,
Won’t care if I leave.
I go after my veins looking to bleed
Maybe then I can be freed.
These voices continue to come in a flood-
Maybe I can escape with my blood.
I can hear them no matter how much I scream and shout
Maybe another sting will draw them out
Another sting and I’ll feel something else.
Maybe then I’ll feel my pulse.
Another sting and maybe it will mask the sting of my own words...
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
Papers are flimsy, fragile
so susceptible to time
and harsher climates.
Scissors cut and divide
thriving on irreparable separation
to leave us in pieces and scattered.
Rocks are rough and tough
facing--and looking--the worst
while enduring every day and night to come.
My choice resides amongst the stones
constant, long-lasting, dependable
in the challenges that may have others call
for support when they can't stand alone
for maybe the times they lived were too much, too long
after facing the blades which cut them into small, segregated fragments.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rain pelts down harsher than the
words you spit
in vehement violence
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my lightening strikes brighter than the
empty promises you made
(brighter, but just as fleeting)
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rage is vast, immeasurable
filling oceans with its ferocity
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and this too will pass, leaving
chaos in its wake.
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 6:50 PM UTC
She smiles while she's all warm and cozy, wrapped in her blanket in bed, listening to the rain
sigh
'It's raining...'
smiles and wraps herself tighter with the blanket
'Brings back all the memories I kept buried within...'
closes eyes and smiles brighter
'Well, times have changed but my memories are immortal. Both time and people are unpredictable, ever shifting but in my mind, in my memories... They are immortal. The person I once knew at a time that has long passed, are yet so vivid in the memories that are precious to me...'
rests head on pillow and listens to the rain become harsher yet more soothing to the soul
'I hold those people in my memories close to my heart... The ones long gone, the ones since changed, the ones I had loved.'
sigh
'The rain brings back memories.'
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
i can only find the open palms of my demons in that red mist, the ones that once held my face in a much harsher way than you do now. your calloused hands feel like heaven instead of the hell that slept in the creases of their fingerprints. sometimes i fall too close and i see their blackened eyes that replay childhood traumas that i have spent years repressing with self-destructive behaviours and alcohol. your own remind me of the rivers i could drown myself in but i must remind myself that diving in will only give me peace, not death, though it feels like death whenever they're not in my sight. sometimes i think about hurting myself again but then i remember the claws of those monsters and how they can't compare to your nails tickling at my back in the late of the night where theirs would be cutting me open. i don't ever want to be in their grip again. never again. never.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
I am a garden just waiting to let spring in
I stand frozen now with wind blown tufts in the air
Nothing but a blankness, as suits the harsher months
I wait for the signal to unclasp my sprigs
To make known my blooming blush
To let down my head of greenery
And fill the empty space where I have slumbered
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
What is the meaning of a letter?
They resemble the severity of the talk
of the shame
of the crying
Or maybe they mean laughter
happiness
hope
What is the meaning of a plus or minus?
a plus or minus can ether mean life or death.
Ink.
You grow up knowing that red automatically means
F
in recent years I learn that its the colors like
yellow
purple
pink
that symbolize the F.
The harsher the mark, the better the grade.
Shouldn’t it be the other way?
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
A list of words I cannot ever say
But I will have to say them every day
I am supposed to practice saying ice
Ice with spice and six o’clock
I will lie and say I did it all
But they all know my tongue will always fall
I googled it to find out what I do
My speech impediment is sadly true
I haven’t done anything about it since
My speech therapist gave me the final mint
I hated it, and it was all suppressed
But now I tell it, I always confess
I wonder if I do it without thought
Am I saying it right or am I not
And no one ever says a thing to me
(Except the boy I crushed on, that one week)
I don’t know if it changes who I am
But I’d still be better off talking like a normal man
It’s something that a lot of people have
But the harsher term makes me inexplicably glad
“Speech impediment”, now I’m special too
Deviancy just like my missing tooth
I always sing even though it sounds weird
Sometimes I avoid the words I’ve always feared
Not “just” the “sea” but “change”, “commotion” too
Especially when I read I’m conscious of how my tongue moves.
Not just that, but I spit and stutter
All my “spreading” is full of clutter
The judge says “Clear”, I have to try
But I could lose the debate, and feel like dying
I know I should grow out of it as a child
But habits stick after so many miles
Along with my disproportionately small hands
And legs and everything that makes me feel like no man’s land
Between a kid and the way I should be
At the age of seventeen
I wish it didn’t change who I am
(Is it just another reason I can't find a...)
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
Do you remember that time of innocence?
When the horrors of the world were invisible,
and you were so much more than invincible?
Do you remember when you didn't doubt for a second that you were amazing?
When you wore those "crazy" things,
And sung at the top of your lungs, unashamed?
Do you remember when you raced outside at every opportunity?
When catching fireflies were the only thing you could think about in the summer,
Other than swimming in the open sea?
Do you remember when laughing came so easily?
When you didn't catch the naughty things in kids tv programs,
And when you had a million perfect life plans?
Do you remember when you woke up early, because you couldn't wait for the day?
When you spoke so fast, because there wasn't enough time,
And when you created a trillion random things, because you wanted to?
Do you remember dancing, or bobbing your head to some random tune in your head?
When you ran out into the rain, without shame,
And screamed until your lungs ached?
Do you remember when you learned everything, and wanted to still know more?
When you were so proud of getting one thing right,
And not caring if you weren't perfect?
Do you remember watching your older siblings, or grown-ups do things, that made you say "I can't wait until I grow up!"?
When you loved yourself, without a doubt,
And had the power to do anything, or be anyone?
I do.
And I wish I could have all of that innocence, and freedom back.
I wish that openness, and self-love had transferred into my more mature life.
I wish that nonchalant way of doing everything had stayed.
I wish that careless way of dancing and singing had tagged along.
I wish that I had stayed carefree for longer, instead of quickly becoming cynical, and depressed.
I wish that I had never pushed to be a part of the grown-up conversations.
I wish that I had never rushed into intimacy.
I wish that I had held onto my wildest dreams.
Because, now,
I regret every time I said
"I can't wait until I grow up!",
Because each time I said those words aloud,
Its pushed me further away from my imagination and wilderness faster, and harsher.
Because each time I said those words, and every single adult around me said that I should hold on to my childhood,
I replied with anger and irritation, not knowing the hell that I was rushing into.
I want to go back,
Don't you?
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
*Its starts with such a beautiful note
That enchants you in, listing to more
The chords flow with such passion
Such hope for the future
Till you reach the diminished
That throws the whole song down to hell
From light and hope
To dark and sin
This song of life has changed in ways
I never saw coming
The tune grows darker
The volume become louder
The chords harsher
But then it stops
And one single note changes it back to the light
The hardness of the chords soften
The volume begins to calm
And the tune once more flows through my soul
This is the song of life
And then it finishes
Leaving you with the experience of music...
The experience of life...*
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
The glasses in my room accumulate,
Unlike my self-worth.
Is this just a game to you?
I've loved you since the first
Second,
Minute,
Hour,
Day,
My misery was gone,
You made it go away.
But you rub this wound harsher
than anyone has rubbed one before.
And I know you know I'm hurt,
but you just treat me like a *****
I'm hurting and I know you know!
You've made it abundantly clear.
You've talked about it.
It's practically written on the mirror,
My eyes,
My brain,
My skin,
My heart,
But you still rub it in and it's breaking me apart.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
Springtime begins to prevail
The white blanket slowly shrivels
Lifting winter’s tattered veil
With a slow and sturdy swivel
Little purple ones sprout first
Followed by the dandelions
But until the lilac bushes burst
We’re still enduring frigid times
Their beauty brings warmth and light
To the wasteland winter left behind
Clearing the path for illuminated nights
Of the blazing, treasured, never-ending kind
The breeze whispers soft to the trees
Sweet summer air flows everywhere
The peepers chirp in splendid harmony
The sweltering sun seeps gold into my hair
The vines, the grass, the flowers; they flourish and they thrive
The delicate side of Mother Nature is so gorgeous, and so fair
She breathes us; gives us our homes, our food, our lives
But her harsher side can take life away with just one breath of her frigid air
She can devastate an entire town with her roaring winds
She trembles and buildings crumble, tearing people apart
Limb by limb
So treasure every moment of her beauty; but be well aware;
She will do what she must and cannot be forced to care
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
An immigrant from County Clare
brought to this harsher clime-
Phoebe Prince, an Irish lass,
a gentle heart and mind.
First used, and then discarded
by one boy, then another.-
Object of the mean girl’s scorn
the consummate "outsider"
On her last day alive
They hounded her from school.
The girl they called the “Irish ****
disgraced and played the fool.
Her sister, Lauren, found her body
hanging lifeless in the hall.
Befriended by nobody
Phoebe chose to end it all
And on the day they held her wake
Those monsters held their dance
A debutante cotillion
for a troop of soulless tramps.
She’s buried here in County Clare
because the Ocean's waves
protect her from the harpies
who drove her to her grave
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
traffic in dreams
the deeper the love
the longer it will be to pay it off
deeper the diamond to carve from your heart
the darker the desire
the more cold cash
the harsher the wind in the lonely night
take sandpaper to your luxurious soul
but you keep its stain from your pretty eyes
pretty face barter for fish n chips
pretty words barter your bed and breakfast
dress it all in fashion from magazines
the strange combination of gloss and paper thin disguise
the strange combination of truth and lies
the greasy haired stranger
peers with all his might into the mirror
trying to find the man hidden within
he traffics in dreams
will sell you a plot of land
and the rainbow that comes with
ten by ten souls wide
ten by ten deep
sell em to you for a taste of the pretty
sell em to you for a touch of the tender
so rancidly reflected in his greasy smile
you thought the weight was easy to bear
thought that the lie you tell yourself suffices
but dreams are brittle thin walls you hide behind
watch the cracks spread across the pretty picture
it is painted with
watch the colors fade like sweet summer sunshine
the sweet wine turned bitter like tears
he sells you a dream that must be forever replaced
with an ever darker version
he sells you a lie that you will come to see vividly
it won't taste so sweet for so long
it will taste like dust
it will taste like loss
you seek him out once again in the dark city passage
his greasy hair fallen long ago
skin gone gray
he found the man in the mirror
he found his answer in all the chaos
tastes like dust
tastes like bitterness
seek him out to find he is gone
only a shell remains
a brittle shell
no-one gets cheap seats
without paying the price
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
when did the
mirror break?
a different angle
for every mood
sharper lines
and harsher truths
jaggedly cut through the glass
same stripes up my sides
personal lightening storm
down my shoulders and thighs
when did the
mirror break?
when did fat stop
being a feeling
and more of just
a state of being?
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
A friendship like airplane
I made a new friend. A friend and I are old souls
A friend and I talked about everything
A friend and I enjoyed each other
A friend and I loved wine and pizza
A friend and I found our comfortable each other
A friend and I watched documentary films
A friend and I made time available for each other
A friend and I shared our naked to comfort
A friend and I don’t want serious in relationship things
A friend and I are commonly in weirdness
A friend and I didn’t complain to text all day, all the time, everyday and unstoppable
A friend and I explored our experience in everything
A friend and I are opened mind to try everything
A friend and I didn’t worry about impressions our friendship
A friend and I learned each other
A friend and I cried together
A friend and I shared emotions and empathic
A friend and I didn’t desperate about LOVE
A friend and I advised each other to be better persons
A friend and I appreciated each other
A friend and I amused like poetry
A friend and I cared very much
A friend and I are amazing and unique who we are
A friend and I drove wild and sexually
A friend and I showed our true colors
A friend and I loved animals & best friends with our pets
A friend.. and I are falling apart and less each other
A... friend... and... I turned to be love/hate
A.... friend.... and.... I became harsher each other
A..... friend..... and..... I hurt each other our feeling constantly
A...... friend...... and...... I complained about our space
A....... friend....... and....... I wanted to make a new friend and more
A friend flys, I crashed.
Our friendship like airplane.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
I am not Cinderella
There is no glass slipper on my feet
I don't need no Prince Charming
I am already complete
My story is no fairy tale
This does not end the way you think
Reality is harsher than fiction
Good guys don't always win
I am not Cinderella
I traded my ball gown for ripped jeans
I don't need no Prince Charming
I am already Queen
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 5:20 AM UTC
i think you're perfect
but i don't think we would be
your personality is softer
but your feelings and actions
are much harsher
if i were raised a little less like my mother
wanted me to be
showing me what not to do
as she placed the cigarette between her lips
maybe we would have been more alike
i know your internal struggles and feelings
all too well
as they are ones i've experienced before
and experience now
although your friends problems seem
all too real
as compared to mine
which are all in my head
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
what you see is not always what you get,
like a tiger scared by a house cat.
we sometimes forget
that appearances can be deceiving
just like we’re trained to master the act of concealing
the emotions that don’t serve our audience
in a zoo they all want
to see a tiger at its finest performance
no one knows the struggles of the tiger
since no eye sees behind the curtain where life seems to be a little harsher.
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 1:53 AM UTC
It's not that you view the world in a negative way because your hopeless, you just don't like getting your hopes up. How can you be optimistic when every day is a crushing reminder that you want so much more then you're receiving?
You are proud, assertive, bold and undaunted.
The type of person many people don't know how to reckon with.
It's not that you're rude, you just have so many opinions and thoughts jumbled in your brain that sometimes they come out harsher then intended. You are not a mean spirited person. you are the type of person that rarely comes along, only containing good intentions. The people that stick around to realize this, they're the lucky ones.
People often don't know how to perceive you because they're the insecure ones. When someone weak is faced with a strong willed person, they become defensive. This is why you must stay strong, never let them flicker your ethereal flame.
You are the rain after a drought, bringing life and spirit to those in need.
You may view yourself as more harmful then helpful, rest assured thats not the case.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC