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"hell" poems
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.) God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan's men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)"
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Mad Girl's Love Song
*Never fall in love with a poet for their words are sometimes lies on occasions they're a shield on occasions a disguise They will take you on a journey upon which they bare their soul in a bid to ease your burdens in a bid to make you whole But in every word they choose for the stories that they tell lies a little piece of heaven and a little piece of hell Tormented souls we poets are sometimes quite broken and despaired in search of lost expressions missed by others who once cared Never fall in love with a poet unless you're prepared to share their pain to hold them close on the darkest nights over and again*
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
Never fall in love with a poet...
nobody loses all the time i had an uncle named Sol who was a born failure and nearly everybody said he should have gone into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable of all to use a highfalootin phrase luxuries that is or to wit farming and be it needlessly added my Uncle Sol’s farm failed because the chickens ate the vegetables so my Uncle Sol had a chicken farm till the skunks ate the chickens when my Uncle Sol had a skunk farm but the skunks caught cold and died and so my Uncle Sol imitated the skunks in a subtle manner or by drowning himself in the watertank but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor Victrola and records while he lived presented to him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a scruptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my Uncle Sol and started a worm farm)
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Nobody Loses All The Time
What is it about you that haunts me? I let you go so I can set you free. You meant everything to me and we were forever, But it isn't our time to be together.   I was completely lost before I met you. You gave me reason to live and direction to follow. But now we're back at square one, And the loneliness has already begun. I promised you I'd never leave. You promised never to let go of me. Yet here we are, far apart in distance and in thought. I wonder how we'd be if we hadn't fought. Blocking is a blessing, and you used it well. I regret my decision, now I'm in hell. A life without you, is no life at all. I just wish you'd pick up my call. With several attempts I lost faith. I think it's goodbye, this is our fate. I'll always wonder if I made a mistake, If I could've avoided all our heartache.                                                                   -Wayward❤
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
A Broken Heart, A Lost Soul
I'm a photographer, and I can't picture you and I together. If I were a stop light, I'd turn green everytime you passed by, just so I don't have to see you any longer. I thought happiness started with an HAPPI. Why does mine start with NOT U? Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I run and hide. Do you have a map? I need to figure out a way to get the hell away from you. Do you live in a corn field, cause I'm just gonna harvest you and sell you to someone else. Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got Violation written all over you. You look cold. Good. Freeze to death. Can I have directions? [To where?] To get the hell away from you. I'm not drunk, I'm just intoxicated enough to tolerate talking to you. I was so disgusted by your face that I ran into that wall over there. But thank god I don't have insurance, so don't bother telling me your name and number. Is there an airport nearby, cause I'm gotta get on the next flight to Antarctica and get the hell away from you. You look so familiar… didn't we take a class together? I could've sworn we had physical education, where I was educated how to physically hurt you. If you are a steak, I'd say you are too meaty. Can I have a picture of you? So I can show Santa what I don't want for Christmas. There must be something wrong with my eyes, they've started bleeding at the sight of you.
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Rejection lines (follow up to Pickup Lines)
There were dividing lines between Springfield and Mariners Gate soft, subtle lines that spoke of origin and code and biting union it was all the reason for being; alive and living dead or dying deep in a pack of pint size resistors hell bent on the marsh crow and cannabis tower jumping the rush with *** shots and anchors and tribunals camouflage creepers and transient floaters marked rebellion at the gates (skullduggery and taunt high on their favor list) jack straws and flat paddles for the evening charade beakers and flailing hands from the foot washing baptist (the Pleasant Street conservatives with their own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”) there's a lingering effect to this sentiment (evident in the pump house stride) the river winds blow gently into the night as the huddling packers and **** backs chase the evening hours it’s a bitter sweet end of an era; those traction bars hood scoops and nickel bags will always be the rage
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
Blood lines
Words cannot explain the depths of my misery that I bare inside, for all the times I did you wrong. You are the one person who was and is ALWAYS there for me, your PERFECT in every way, I love you so hard I would die for you? Why do I question such acts of loyalty? I do not understand, please, I'm so mentally challenged when it comes to you. Am I that selfish, that I won't change my life for you, put you first? When I know by ****** HELL you deserve so much more! I can't stress the word deserve enough! If all the men in this world treated you like a KING, you would still deserve more. You changed me, saved from my own self, you showed me TRUE love. I know I love you, but I dont know if I am good enough for you, I am lowly & this is where I feel like i'm never good enough, but it hurts me when I hurt you by not trying. PLEASE, I LOVE YOU & even until this day I never questioned my love for you, not ONCE in my life, I swear on that. Even when I barely knew you. So I will try, I will fight, I will strive to keep you happy but just know I am not perfect & just know all I want is your HAPPINESS! I did you wrong, many times before & hate myself for it, I promise! But just know, no matter what, I will never ever hate you. On the day I die, before it & forever after I...WILL... ALWAYS... LOVE...YOU & will never & I mean EVER, no matter if I try my absolute hardest, forget you. I Love You & that will forever stay, just like the world's beautifulest stain you left on my heart. I'm sorry I did you wrong & I'm sorry for anything I do wrong in the future, but I will never leave, I will indefinitely fight for you & I.
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
You left the world's most beautiful stain
Words cannot explain the depths of my misery that I bare inside, for all the times I did you wrong. You are the one person who was and is ALWAYS there for me, your PERFECT in every way, I love you so hard I would die for you? Why do I question such acts of loyalty? I do not understand, please, I'm so mentally challenged when it comes to you. Am I that selfish, that I won't change my life for you, put you first? When I know by ****** HELL you deserve so much more! I can't stress the word deserve enough! If all the men in this world treated you like a KING, you would still deserve more. You changed me, saved from my own self, you showed me TRUE love. I know I love you, but I dont know if I am good enough for you, I am lowly & this is where I feel like i'm never good enough, but it hurts me when I hurt you by not trying. PLEASE, I LOVE YOU & even until this day I never questioned my love for you, not ONCE in my life, I swear on that. Even when I barely knew you. So I will try, I will fight, I will strive to keep you happy but just know I am not perfect & just know all I want is your HAPPINESS! I did you wrong, many times before & hate myself for it, I promise! But just know, no matter what, I will never ever hate you. On the day I die, before it & forever after I...WILL... ALWAYS... LOVE...YOU & will never & I mean EVER, no matter if I try my absolute hardest, forget you. I Love You & that will forever stay, just like the world's beautifulest stain you left on my heart. I'm sorry I did you wrong & I'm sorry for anything I do wrong in the future, but I will never leave, I will indefinitely fight for you & I.
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Buried alive, beneath the rhetorical lies. Of a thousand broken-prayer beads. Surrounded by all of my.... False hopes. Fake friends. & Some, hornet priests who are exorcising their own demons. On a ******* fueled ****** of sadism in it's own right. On the dark side of the confession booth. This is nothing. But a divine waste of my time. I'll see you all, in Hell.
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Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 1:19 PM UTC
Black Mass.
Fire burns in hell. Too. All dragged down down d o w n to the bottom of the abyss. Guess I'll just start.... Drinking, dollar store love potions. Only to get a stomach ache. Those **** butterflies. They've done it again. .
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Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 4:44 AM UTC
Dollar Store. Love Potions.
I don't know how many bottles of beer I have consumed while waiting for things to get better I dont know how much wine and whisky and beer mostly beer I have consumed after splits with women- waiting for the phone to ring waiting for the sound of footsteps, and the phone to ring waiting for the sounds of footsteps, and the phone never rings until much later and the footsteps never arrive until much later when my stomach is coming up out of my mouth they arrive as fresh as spring flowers: "what the hell have you done to yourself? it will be 3 days before you can **** me!" the female is durable she lives seven and one half years longer than the male, and she drinks very little beer because she knows its bad for the figure. while we are going mad they are out dancing and laughing with horney cowboys. well, there's beer sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles and when you pick one up the bottle fall through the wet bottom of the paper sack rolling clanking spilling gray wet ash and stale beer, or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m. in the morning making the only sound in your life. beer rivers and seas of beer the radio singing love songs as the phone remains silent and the walls stand straight up and down and beer is all there is.
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beer
A friend asked me how to be a writer. I wanted to say, lock yourself in a room, scream until you have a poem and no voice. Open your veins and bleed until you know that your bones are pure words and sorrow. Act as if you slit your own throat and all you can bleed are your own regrets and all of the darkness you boxed up for inspiration. Write your mom a letter, tell her you're leaving and you won't be back for awhile Because being a writer is traveling through all seven layers of Hell and denying anything is wrong. Forget loving yourself when all you have is a pen and paper fused to your wrist and Jesus is tapping at your skull saying turn back now. Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning It's just your soul clawing at the front door trying to get in. Learn how to be alone. Learn how to lose everything you have in order to feel release, learn how to only feel deceased from now on. A friend asked me how to be a writer. All I said was don't
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Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
How to Be a Writer
*My depraved soul's unearthed By the Holy Ghost's breath And given new birth Out of spiritual death This wretch is turned 'round Fit with eyes to believe A lost sheep is found And her Shepherd received My blots are each edited Out in Christ's fount His righteousness credited To my bankrupt account A prisoner's been pardoned No debt left to pay A heart which was hardened Becomes pliable clay My life's set apart Now from worldly regression Picked out from the start Made for Christ's own possession I'm purchased with blood Shed on Golgotha's tree A slave bought by God And fully set free My sins were all laid On the head of a Scapegoat Who carried their weight To a desert remote Once an object of wrath And deserving hell's fire But Jesus took my bath— Conflagration of God's ire So an enemy no more I'm brought into God's fold Carried through His door And out of night's cold He calls me His child His heir and His bride Though once an orphan wild Now seated at Christ's side And soon He'll return When salvation's complete When no longer I'll yearn For His own face I'll meet!*
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC
Grace
I've got a confession. No matter how much you love me, Care , And swear to never leave. I'll always think of going back to him That guy who uses me. Why? Hell if I know.  Though, Id go if he'd take me, And stay, if he'd break me. Even though I KNOW in a month or less I'd be no more than another ex. I hate to say this... Because I do like you, But I can't stay away from him, Like I could to you.
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Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 2:04 AM UTC
Confess
ground zero i become aware of boundaries i am a dog chasing cars i sing your voicemail to sleep there are no surgeon general warnings to tell me that *the objects in the mirror are more depressed than they appear* so how do i tell you that there are parts of my life that move slower without you in them? or that i look for you every day in emails & unanswered calls in the sunrises i didn't choose to be awake to watch that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them    stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip    stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant    stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me after people always ask what was loving her like? after a really long silence i just say "it must be nice" but i never say it's watching paint dry i never say it's a window seat in hell i don't tell anyone about the dreams where i am reading you bedtime stories each one is a different way you die & every time i can never save you dreams where what i think are angels in my bedroom are just homeless versions of myself you never loved i have dreams where i pay someone to shoot me just to see if you would cry just to see if you would cradle my body i don't tell people that loving you is like playing piano for someone who can't hear that it's hitting repeat on my favorite song & forgetting the words every time it starts over that it's finding out there's no milk after you already poured yourself a bowl of cereal it's getting locked in the dark & being told to look on the bright side that loving you is like being reminded of what it felt like the first time you accidentally let go of a balloon as a child it's drowning without the water it's the feeling you get when you start to dance & the song ends
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
stages of detachment
ground zero i become aware of boundaries i am a dog chasing cars i sing your voicemail to sleep there are no surgeon general warnings to tell me that *the objects in the mirror are more depressed than they appear* so how do i tell you that there are parts of my life that move slower without you in them? or that i look for you every day in emails & unanswered calls in the sunrises i didn't choose to be awake to watch that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them    stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip    stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant    stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me after people always ask what was loving her like? after a really long silence i just say "it must be nice" but i never say it's watching paint dry i never say it's a window seat in hell i don't tell anyone about the dreams where i am reading you bedtime stories each one is a different way you die & every time i can never save you dreams where what i think are angels in my bedroom are just homeless versions of myself you never loved i have dreams where i pay someone to shoot me just to see if you would cry just to see if you would cradle my body i don't tell people that loving you is like playing piano for someone who can't hear that it's hitting repeat on my favorite song & forgetting the words every time it starts over that it's finding out there's no milk after you already poured yourself a bowl of cereal it's getting locked in the dark & being told to look on the bright side that loving you is like being reminded of what it felt like the first time you accidentally let go of a balloon as a child it's drowning without the water it's the feeling you get when you start to dance & the song ends
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The false crisendo of your words Grate against my every nerves. Wandering round With ****** feet How many expectations Have I failed to meet? What more do you want Of my sorry soul When I cannot bring My self to breath anymore? So I watch your hopes all tumbling down It feels quite cold Down here in the ground. I'm sorry that I wasn't enough I tried to be what you asked of me But I didnt think it'd be So tough. My weary bones creak and ache, My wrist all burned and ****** Can you not be quite just once for my sake? I understand the gravity. I know Im failing at life, But you dig right in, spreading the cavity, How to ignore the strife? Whispered arguments bleed through the walls How much longer until we fall? Through the floor straight down to hell All because I could not tell. Should I weep in pain, And slave away, To satisfy you're whimsical ways? Should I sell my soul, And bite my tongue, Just to keep the wallet full? But "your so young, You've no excuse, So bend your back, Put those hands to use." Welcome to life. Put away your pain, No time for strife, No time for play, Just nod you head, Exit the stage, And get a job, So you'll be payed. I'd sooner live a poor church mouse, Then lose myself in persute of a house. But no, I'll smile my candy grin, And talk with sugar sweet. Hide the weight of the pain, So your expectations, I'll meet.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
Candy Grin
Now you have to understand that the greatest gift a child can receive is a sibling. Wrapped up in that hospital delivery is limitless potential. They can be your partner in crime, or the key witness in your conviction. A sibling fights the same battles you do just with different tactics. Some prefer to pit mom against dad others dad against mom. No one will ever walk the earth as close to you. Part of the DNA that makes you unique flows in their veins. Even if circumstances change that bond can’t be broken. They will annoy you, steal from you, drive you crazy, and if you’re lucky enough hate you. And yet they are your best friend, confidant, and the person who if you’re unfortunate enough will go to hell and back as fast for you as you would do for them. So to all the siblings out there. May you be playmates in adversity and friendly rivals in joy
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Siblings
I'm used to being abandoned by the men in my life But that never makes it any easier I was always a dreamer And a part of me still is I let my hopes grow too big Filled with hot air Only for them to float away from me Disappearing Like everything else Naturally I've built up a wall But people always find a way to sneak in And usually walk right out Once I've opened the doors You could say I have trust issues But there's always a moment When I open myself up Completely It scares the hell out of me But I do it anyways For the chance at something bigger than myself The only problem Is that I don't do well with vulnerability I worry, I doubt But only because Having another man walk out of my life -- Especially you -- Would be too much to bear.
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Once is an Accident, Twice is a Coincidence, Three Times is a Pattern
I'm not good at taking it slow But I hope you know Waiting isn't something I do well But I'll wait for you, Annabelle So many years since the day I heard you say "It's not time for us just yet" And never did I once forget That you were out there as well As I waited for you, Annabelle Time goes on and so it did Just like you said "It's not now or never" But I said I'd wait forever In all the time between heaven and hell I'll wait for you, Annabelle It's not easy for me to stand As he takes your hand But as long as he treats you well I'll wait for you, Annabelle
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Wait Until the Waiting's Done
a man is not a man if he believes he has to be superior over a woman to achieve her love, a man is a man if he believes in letting a woman decide for herself who she wants to be, a man is not a man if he believes control will make a woman stay, a man is a man if he believes letting a woman choose what she wants to do will make her stay, a man is not a man if he does not believe in giving a woman a choice in her free time, will make her feel safe, a man is man if he believes that letting a woman do whatever the hell she wants in her free time to make her happy will make her love him more and feel safe, a man is not a man if he believes that forbidding a woman to meet with other males, even just friends will make her stay, a man is a man if he trusts a woman, regardless of how long the relationship, that she will not cheat by giving her the choice of who she wants to meet, will make her stay,   a man is not a man if he constantly refers to a woman as only useful in reproduction, a man is a man if he believes that a woman was created for other things too, a man is not a man if he believes that a woman should be devoted to the kitchen and household, a man is a man if he believes that letting a woman choose how she wants to keep herself busy will make her feel valued,   a man is not a man if he believes a woman is only useful for his needs, wants, and desires, a man is a man if he believes that being with a woman is not only about objectification, sexualization, reproductive control and male privilege.
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Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC
a man is (not) a man
a man is not a man if he believes he has to be superior over a woman to achieve her love, a man is a man if he believes in letting a woman decide for herself who she wants to be, a man is not a man if he believes control will make a woman stay, a man is a man if he believes letting a woman choose what she wants to do will make her stay, a man is not a man if he does not believe in giving a woman a choice in her free time, will make her feel safe, a man is man if he believes that letting a woman do whatever the hell she wants in her free time to make her happy will make her love him more and feel safe, a man is not a man if he believes that forbidding a woman to meet with other males, even just friends will make her stay, a man is a man if he trusts a woman, regardless of how long the relationship, that she will not cheat by giving her the choice of who she wants to meet, will make her stay,   a man is not a man if he constantly refers to a woman as only useful in reproduction, a man is a man if he believes that a woman was created for other things too, a man is not a man if he believes that a woman should be devoted to the kitchen and household, a man is a man if he believes that letting a woman choose how she wants to keep herself busy will make her feel valued,   a man is not a man if he believes a woman is only useful for his needs, wants, and desires, a man is a man if he believes that being with a woman is not only about objectification, sexualization, reproductive control and male privilege.
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You cause a break inside my organs Pointing out my flaws our differences. You are at peace. I sit jittering, worrying what everyone will think of when I didn’t care you made me laugh at everything Changes.  You’re not right for me Nor I for you, but I can’t help Thinking What if?  Then I remember you’re not what nor Everything I want. You are an intellectual snob you have a depth about you I would love to delve in, a psychological study that even the best critics would praise, but I don’t want anyone else to have been there or ever go there. I cannot hold on to you tear me away while You’re haphazardly gluing us together We’re a kindergarten art project messy, trying to see Beauty within the confusion, unfinished     You asked me Where am I most at peace 4 years old.       I could be anything No fears I hadn’t been ripped apart. I was the girl that said everything, until I felt the need to screen my thoughts, like the filter you use to make your coffee each morning.  I wish that’s where I was, having you tell me that you like your women like your coffee Dark and bitter. I can look past your chauvinistic ways, not giving a **** about anyone. You’re not really closed minded You just act like it, which annoys the hell out of me Sometimes.  I wish life was simple.     But then I would never know your complexities nor Feel the things you help me feel, like hate for train whistles or the burn of gin hitting my throat. Music       you introduce me to offstage trumpets, bad movies.  Your politics, your brown eyes       and how you can hear frequencies that most everyone else can’t.  I worry that you hear the fear in my voice and heartbreak With every word I speak. When were you going to tell me? Or was that your plan all along? To throw me out like yesterday’s coffee grounds or cut up scraps Used and unwanted. I wish I could tell you to tell her you don’t want her but me instead, you don’t, I don’t want you to. I want holding hands, laughter comfort, personality, humor, intellect. You want that plus things I can’t give But you always take. You are your coffee disgusting, caffeinated, addicting the only patch that helps is comforting words you never spoke. We had many conversations of your desires, lusts, mistakes, but I was burned, by lies, distrust. You left, like always, a harsh, acidic aftertaste on my tongue.
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
Coffee
You cause a break inside my organs Pointing out my flaws our differences. You are at peace. I sit jittering, worrying what everyone will think of when I didn’t care you made me laugh at everything Changes.  You’re not right for me Nor I for you, but I can’t help Thinking What if?  Then I remember you’re not what nor Everything I want. You are an intellectual snob you have a depth about you I would love to delve in, a psychological study that even the best critics would praise, but I don’t want anyone else to have been there or ever go there. I cannot hold on to you tear me away while You’re haphazardly gluing us together We’re a kindergarten art project messy, trying to see Beauty within the confusion, unfinished     You asked me Where am I most at peace 4 years old.       I could be anything No fears I hadn’t been ripped apart. I was the girl that said everything, until I felt the need to screen my thoughts, like the filter you use to make your coffee each morning.  I wish that’s where I was, having you tell me that you like your women like your coffee Dark and bitter. I can look past your chauvinistic ways, not giving a **** about anyone. You’re not really closed minded You just act like it, which annoys the hell out of me Sometimes.  I wish life was simple.     But then I would never know your complexities nor Feel the things you help me feel, like hate for train whistles or the burn of gin hitting my throat. Music       you introduce me to offstage trumpets, bad movies.  Your politics, your brown eyes       and how you can hear frequencies that most everyone else can’t.  I worry that you hear the fear in my voice and heartbreak With every word I speak. When were you going to tell me? Or was that your plan all along? To throw me out like yesterday’s coffee grounds or cut up scraps Used and unwanted. I wish I could tell you to tell her you don’t want her but me instead, you don’t, I don’t want you to. I want holding hands, laughter comfort, personality, humor, intellect. You want that plus things I can’t give But you always take. You are your coffee disgusting, caffeinated, addicting the only patch that helps is comforting words you never spoke. We had many conversations of your desires, lusts, mistakes, but I was burned, by lies, distrust. You left, like always, a harsh, acidic aftertaste on my tongue.
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90
through the streets and column cracks culture weaves and summer smacks sacred figures, holy shrine monastery in grand design cathedrals, convents, heaven’s stars god of neptune, god of mars doge’s palace, alley ways gondolier on full display winged lions on pastel breeze cicada singing from the trees pillar walk of saint mark's square basilica in all its flare crosses shade the carousel a bridge of sigh that leads to hell golden stairs on placid ridge arches of rialto bridge torcello! murano! grigio! the countess rides the river poe! sins of seven, fiery hides poplars bank the levee side black plague, attila the *** eden formed before the sun paradise above the marsh high alter, gothic arch middle age, religious wars celestial fountains, marble floors sculpted peacock, catholic faith all is true the great god saith
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Venezia
I am not superman. I carry around guns for protection. I have killed many And never was sorry. I have stolen from men who have stolen from others. Do not look at me as a savior, Not even as a big brother, because I am nothing of a role model. My wings have broken and I don't even have a place to call home. Pain is written on my skin with the smirk of a devil leaving cracks all over for sorrow to sneak its way in and bury itself deep into my bones. So give me hope because I'm not man enough to create my own. I keep putting other's lives before mine hoping that counts as love but wind up realizing that doesn't count as anything Trust me, I'm no superman. I can't even save myself. I've burned my cape in the fires of hell because I've been there enough to know I can't wear it anymore. I have flaws enough to fill the ocean and I'm sick of drowning and I'm tired of counting dead bodies and I’m tired of swimming through waves I'm not big enough for. So hear the violin and piano play my symphony of the fallen man. I never said I could fly. I never said I could save your life. I never gave up though. So hold me tight and let me finally break and fall into the arms of someone I can trust and someone I know that'll keep my heart safe buried next to theirs. I've played wicked games and lost too many times and now I just want to sleep. I'm tired of turning up black and blue But I'll do anything to protect you. If you were never here then I would have ended this a long time ago. I would have welcomed the salt water into my lungs Or fall asleep in a tree and meet death in the morning as I hang in silence. But now I beg for hope because I'm torn apart. But I know am seen as your superman so I’m going to hang on with all my might, And live this life with you as a hero as your superman.
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 7:17 AM UTC
I'm No Superman
I am not superman. I carry around guns for protection. I have killed many And never was sorry. I have stolen from men who have stolen from others. Do not look at me as a savior, Not even as a big brother, because I am nothing of a role model. My wings have broken and I don't even have a place to call home. Pain is written on my skin with the smirk of a devil leaving cracks all over for sorrow to sneak its way in and bury itself deep into my bones. So give me hope because I'm not man enough to create my own. I keep putting other's lives before mine hoping that counts as love but wind up realizing that doesn't count as anything Trust me, I'm no superman. I can't even save myself. I've burned my cape in the fires of hell because I've been there enough to know I can't wear it anymore. I have flaws enough to fill the ocean and I'm sick of drowning and I'm tired of counting dead bodies and I’m tired of swimming through waves I'm not big enough for. So hear the violin and piano play my symphony of the fallen man. I never said I could fly. I never said I could save your life. I never gave up though. So hold me tight and let me finally break and fall into the arms of someone I can trust and someone I know that'll keep my heart safe buried next to theirs. I've played wicked games and lost too many times and now I just want to sleep. I'm tired of turning up black and blue But I'll do anything to protect you. If you were never here then I would have ended this a long time ago. I would have welcomed the salt water into my lungs Or fall asleep in a tree and meet death in the morning as I hang in silence. But now I beg for hope because I'm torn apart. But I know am seen as your superman so I’m going to hang on with all my might, And live this life with you as a hero as your superman.
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*Darkness falls across the land The midnight hour is close at hand Creatures crawl in search of blood To terrorize your neighborhood And whosoever shall be found Without the soul for getting down Must stand and face the hounds of hell And rot inside a corpse's shell The foulest stench is in the air The funk of forty thousand years And grisly ghouls from every tomb Are closing in to seal your doom And though you fight to stay alive Your body starts to shiver For no mere mortal can resist The evil of the thriller* © Michael Jackson
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Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
Thriller [Rap performed by Vincent Price]
I know things hurt you and weigh down on your soul. And people have left you and just let you fall. I know I've been one of them a time or two. But I swear on my life, I'll be better for you. I would give you my own heart, though it may be more torn. I would find you a rose to hold without any thorns. I would read up on jokes and things to make you smile. And lay on the couch and just listen for awhile. I would listen to your problems, your dreams, your hopes. I would listen to your secrets and not let anybody know. I would give you my whole self, with both of my hands. And follow in your footsteps wherever you ran. We would go on adventures to just forget the world. Play in the grass, watch the clouds swirl and swirl. And when the sun finally set, like the fire in your eyes; I would be there for you to just let you cry. Cry about whatever; but I would hold your hand close. And tell you I love you and never let you go. I would lie down beside you whenever you fell; fight off the demons of your personal hell. And in the morning I'd hug you as soon as you wake; and whisper, "Keep smiling. Today's a new day."
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
You can trust me because I will never let you down.