"holden" poems
i don't/can't/won't/shouldn't/ write this essay
instead i'll write poems
in procrastination
about girls that don't exist
guys that don't know i exist
unicorns i wish i was riding
holden caulfield
my brother
death and general grayness
procrastination poems
are better than my essay
writing essays are 95% procrastination and maybe 2% work
3% denial
this poem is already longer than my essay is
should i get to work or
read another article on my favourite band
or hover over the email tab
someone talk to me? no?
but music!
no good music is this a sign
minutes tick by drawing closer to midnight
my fingers have yet to fly over keys
like a reporter's with the Next Big Thing
i suppose i will sleep
and let the essay write itself
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Tormented by his past
And by his open mind
This sad and tired young man
Did try at last and fast
To escape from real life.
Death of young sibling,
Elder brother’s absence,
Gore and agony
Experienced in the past
From a boy who jumped at last.
This is the basic background
Of Holden’s dreadful past
And he of twisted mind
He who feels hopeless
Holden is crying in the inside.
Children game recalled
The Catcher in the Rye
Wishing he was the one
Children’s worriless lives
When everything was alright.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
I'm going to marry a writer.
How could I not?
She won't be Holden Caulfield because I'm too much of a phony.
She won't be Gatsby because I'll never be a Daisy.
She won't be the moon because I'll never shine as bright as the sun.
I won't be Caulfield, but she won't be a phony.
I won't be Gatsby, but I'll fall madly in love with her.
I won't be the moon, but she'll shine brighter then the sun.
We'll drink too much coffee, smoke too many cigarettes, stay up to late.
We'll wear sweaters and carve pumpkins and listen to Tigers Jaw.
We'll read books and we'll write poetry and we'll live our lives.
with each other forever.
We will live happily
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
My lady carries love within her eyes;
All that she looks on is made pleasanter;
Upon her path men turn to gaze at her;
He whom she greeteth feels his heart to rise,
And droops is troubled visage, full of sighs,
And of his evil heart is then aware:
Hates loves, and pride becomes his worshipper.
O women, help to praise her in somewise.
Humbleness, and the hope that hopeth well,
By speech of hers into the mind are brought,
And who beholds is blessed oftenwhiles.
The look she hath when she a little smiles
Cannot be said, nor holden in the thought;
'Tis such a new and gracious miracle.
4.9k
sometimes i get
suicide bombers, rapists, killers, robbers and thieves
because their motives are visible through their actions.
but i never once in my life
bothered understanding businessmen, pastors, priests, muslims, religions, politicians,
and people whose motives in life
remain hidden
until caught red handed,
and also those people
who choose not to see the world naked for what it is.
maybe the UP activists are right
and that i shouldn't think of them as brainwashed kids or
just paid heads to do
what they do but their actions,
my thoughts and this poem
doesn't change anything.
i bet 100% of you
who are reading this would either think i'm deranged or seeking for attention.
i could go on and on writing
this **** and explain thoroughly
but the people's brain
are now wired to ex b's
hit single and yes,
mentioning that made
this a little bit funny but no.
as a ******* filipino
who should be typing this in tagalog, working overseas,
i've seen some fellow countrymen showed some pride
against their oppressors
from work but they don't get anywhere but jail.
i must've forgot,
the movie about manalo
trampled the one
about heneral luna.
see how helpless
we are in reality?
what's your photo that comes
with a bible verse got to do with others?
are you spreading
the word of God?
what does it do to you?
Sometimes I get
The New People's Army.
But I don't get Muslims
who runs businesses and the Chinese too.
Sometimes I wish
I could spread fake news
that doesn't harm others
and last but not the least,
I hope someday the world would stop not and smoke Marijuana all
at the same time
including North Korea.
I couldn't stop.
I also hope that these people,
those who has a lot of followers
use the attention properly but no, people are so ******* dumb and Salinger is right with Holden's, "People never notice anything"
and nothing's too big
if people will stop creating bigger things that'll only add up to the congestion clogging up the world.
and Allen Ginsberg is right,
we are breaking our
******* backs just to lift ******* Moloch.
**** your Mosques, your INC branches, your corporations, your religions, your borders and divisions, your trends that kills the minds of the youth.
**** your laws, about making Marijuana illegal.
**** your disguise and your intelligence.
I almost believe world cleansing is the answerbbecause the ant colonies are so much better
ruling the world.
I don't know anymore, my smartphone's ******
and I am not smarter. . .
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
My Lucifer, unwitting Muse, dog-eared Vonnegut,
afrobeatnik third eye, howls escaping
from your headphones, wailing about secrets, about infidelity,
about analyzing life until there ain’t nothin’
left. Then you shuffle by in your black and white Adidas,
hair in twists, wearing the striped sweater
of nihilistic intent, quoting the rants of Holden Caulfield
in your blog like you never didn’t know him.
I never asked to know you, to want who I can’t have
when I can’t even love myself. And every fiber
Of my being yearns for reciprocation. What is there
to return? What is there to feel, you meditate on truth,
fallen angel in the parlor of rebellion, blasphemous goodbye,
bright and morning star simpering like crickets in the palms
of daybreak. Your musicality radiates from subway chatter
and overheard profanity down El Camino Real.
I take in your ballad at my post office mailbox,
in the abandoned echoes of daydream monologues.
You’re a philosopher, exploring theory of mind, a cartographer,
mapping the labyrinth of your deepest desires.
Tell me again about desires, demonstrations of divine sadism. Tell me
about human empathy, the animated faces of wordless expression,
the metaphysics of free will, my beginning and my end,
alpha and omega, my fortress in the land of chic.
Blasphemous hustler, let your idealism simmer, your wit, your mojo,
I come to you an amateur, a neophyte, a lowly scab
in the strike against ignorance. Give me my melody, my song,
my one-hit-wonder of all that is cliché and unknown.
But I can’t be the other woman, your girlfriend, your aspiring
Playboy bunny only 10-bucks-a-throw. Your highness-who-yells-
his-ideas-into-the-ears-of-echoes, your every quirk spellbinds me.
Each day I wake to your entourage vibrato.
I am held captive by your brooding stare, empress of liberal
doves. You visit in my dreams when the sky is a force of darkness
viewing light through peepholes, your flaws an aphrodisiac, a love drug,
a fast hit in the basement from the ecstasy of words.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 5:37 AM UTC
I promised you I'd take you away
From here one day
And that's a promise I intend to keep.
If given the chance,
I would take you with me on my every daily endeavor
And I would kiss you with every passing second
To make up for all the ones you deserved
But didn't receive
When I was just a little girl
And the world was turning it's back on you
So harshly.
And I would be criticized
For my loving you;
Too wide of an age gap,
To vast of a difference
But I am closer to you
That I have ever been
With anyone else.
I will take you to the beaches of California
I have never seen
And I will make love to you
In the crisp Colorado air,
So long as you're willing to run with me.
We can go to New York
And skip rocks in the pond
In Central Park where Holden Caulfield
Almost drowned himself because he was drunk,
But not quite as drunk as I perpetually am
On your excellence.
Maybe we could go to the Natural History Museum
And we could look at the really cool Indian statues
That emulate my love for you
By never changing.
Wherever it is you want me to go
I will follow you with no questions asked
So long as when I'm finally able to save you
From this wretched place,
You will take my hand and save yourself
With me.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
my jewels bestowed onto me are hanging from my dead limbs like a noose,
but due to my inferior intellect, these delusional gods will bring me to hell's gates
for the world's stigma on my definition of jewels has a red stamp with
the words WARNING on it, my dull inane shadow cannot compare
to the hundreds suffering in the same recession i am, mouths are speaking
to me, but my ears aren't listening, like once the repeated record from you
plays, a sound proof room surrounds the vicinity and intrudes the space
between you and me, my body is not translucent, i was carved out of
marble but vines and weeds entangled my crevices and made me grotesque
this dystopia people are telling me about that i live in is a utopia to myself
i'm near the condition of declining into a whirlwind of nothing and i'm fine
with it, as long as Holden Caulfield catches me when I fall into the rye alone
- kra
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
six chapters of Catcher in the Rye
keeping my hero alive, Normandy
how he must of felt, the headlines
breaking his heart, America is full of heart break
and all for the fickle romance and seductive nature
of war time Hollywood. What a *****
fill that selfish empty hand, when the world twinkled for you
and you were only in love with yourself in the mirror
he may be passed away, and far over the disappointment
the anger turmoil now understood of my favorite novel
written on tour during the second world war and for what
hundreds of thousands of copies of paper sold each year
and all he wanted was that one ear to kiss, he confessed Holden to.
I hope your life was as inspirational as it started , you hermit, you legend.
but **** you ***** Charlie Chap Coke **** *******
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
I love you more than Holden loves Allie's glove
I love you more than the Doctor loved Rose
I love you more than Cosmo loved Wanda
I love you more than Squidward wanted to be alone
I love you more than Mr. Krabs loves money
I love you more than Gerard loves Lindsey
I could go on, but there's no point
Nothing can compare to how much you mean to me
You stupid twit.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
you see god triumphs all over poor bob
you see today bob was going to the local bowling alley to reform the messiah, you see
this person believes he is the messiah, and his mate brian was annoying the pants off him
by every time he got a strike, brian copies TV, saying, yes, there is a GOD, about 100 times
and drove the messiah nuts, saying why are you saying this, then brian got another strike
and said it again, yes, there is a god, and the next miss, brian will say 100 times , no there isn’t a god
brian never offended the messiah, but he said, yes there is a god, or no there isn’t a god about 100 times
and at the end when brian got 182 as his bowling score, brian yelled out, yes, there is a god up there
and when someone got the same score, he said, there is no god, it still drove the messiah nuts
and bob delahunty said, why are you saying he drives you nuts, he is a family person, you can
learn a lot from brian, and brian sang we are the champions, the messiah left going
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND THE MIGHTY BOB
bob delahunty wanted to understand the messiah, so he made brian and the messiah go to a ACT Brumbies game
and brian filled with the simpsons lines in his head, went go brumbies, go brumbies, and when they dropped the ball
brian yelled out we stink we stink we stink, and it happened again, the brumbies ran up the field with brian saying
go brumbies go brumbies go brumbies go, and they dropped the ball, and brian said we stink we stink we stink
and the messiah, who has bionic hearing said, the two islanders behind us, said, why does he keep doing that
and brian said, he was copying frankie j holden on TV, or trying to be the GOOFY homer simpson, which to brian’s
opinion is cool, it was the messiah that has the problem, and the messiah walked away saying
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god the devil and annoying old brian
and then bob delahunty decided to follow brian and the messiah around, and it seemed brian had a point
every time the messiah had problems, he would yell out, GOD DOESN’T WANT ME TO HAVE ******* FUN EVER IN MY LIFE
and the messiah would say that again and again, saying god doesn’t want me to that or this or every fucken thing
you see, the messiah wanted to live with some old soccer mates, better than brian because he was a total ****** and brian
said, i am not a ****** i am trying to be nice to you, allowing to go to the coast together, and to the movies
and you still say, and making me say god doesn’t want me to have fun ever in my life, and bob gave brian the messiahs drug to
help him beat the ****** in him, and stop that silly thing to say of god doesn’t want me to do that, it forced brian’s best school mate
ripping into brian’s head after hearing he is a buddhist, saying sit there, buddha doesn’t want you to go on the computer
and i told that voice, buddha wants me to join the next generation, which is better than being a ****** saying, if i eat a banana
god will punnish my family, and force people into rioting with one another, brian knows they wanna party, and bob told the
messiah, the way to make you better dear child, is split this friendship, ok, so the messiah walked away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is god
GOD THE DEVIL AND MY MATE OLD CHUM BOB
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god the devil and BUDDHA AND THE JEWS, makes bobs day really complete
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
My childhood was a lonely one,
sat dust-lunged in my room,
while others had fun,
I'd sit in the gloom.
Surrounded, with old books and toys,
football, at all, wasn't my thing.
Not 'one of the boys',
my own lonely king.
Ruled empires, of plastic and prose,
my imagination, sensational flights of ideas!
It actively rose,
along with my fears.
Oh! But if chance would be given,
to redo those days in new ways,
same way I'd live 'em,
in radiant haze.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Here in Holden I forget all the memories acquired in sun
They all tumble and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Pouring ***** in my head as a song before bed
Two-fisted whiskey drinker caught in the present,
Displaced in time. And another and another til
she upgrades to doubles at no extra charge cause
she loves how my face 'round means she's safe at least
til I leave and she's sweet and pays me in drinks I
don't need as bad as money and a stable place.
Here in Holden B-Block I play games with my memories
I tumble hard and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Too fun to open a door and fall through the floor
to the blackness of past as you stand from your stool
to play pool in the back as you can't keep your cool
so you retreat. Always retreat.
Here in Holden, underground, I **** on the memories
I made under sun now
bathed only in krypton light
scaring cats from the cans
behind the brush as I
rush to get it all out.
Spit it all.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
it is easy to become lost in the blinding lights of new york city
and the deafening sound of yellow taxi cabs and screaming
neighbors and the chatter of mundane conversations between
people who are ghosts in every sense of the word with
their paper thin hearts and transparent minds and the inability
to feel something other than the heavy weight of coffee
in their stomachs
it is easy for people to say that when new york city was made
God himself struck down and said "let their be light" but all i ever
see is the blur of motion as everyone runs to jobs they
all hate working with people they despise and then spending
their money at stars that don't even shine in poorly lit movie
theaters when the real ones are in the sky and in new york
every expensive restaurant is vegan friendly and boasts animal
rights and shames everyone who doesn't but no one
ever wonders what happens to the ducks in central park during december
it is easy to fall in love with new york city.
with the magic that it spreads with the euphoria that you feel being
surrounded by others with it's almost frightening ability to
take away your loneliness and manipulate you into thinking you
are happy, it is easy to fall in love with new york city.
it is also easy for you to say that you lost yourself in new york
because even when you say it no one will hear you
over the sound of madison square garden and it is easy to
call new york paradise it is easy to call it the city that never
sleeps because everyone stuck there is paralyzed
(h.l.)
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
I guess you really can not forgive me
in this beautiful country of yours
for I hold you so dearly, under those
Canadian stars, sure we may dream
miraculous things, but weight on
these feathers and waning wings
serpentine jealousy, babe, not envy
please, leave, me, be, innocent, of
steam, send onto me Jesus Christ
Girl, i need someone to clarify biblically
did the catholic we knifed, deserve
to call me a worthless being, or will i find him
in prison like everyone finds him I'm just
happy its 20 14, when Tupac is to be reborn
Judge his reasonings were, my Mother didn't raise me
Catholic, her mother did want her Mothers
Mother , to have not wanted to raise her
Daughter, catholic, in the snow, with a tune
for you, waiting at the St, Stephen Torro Cemetery
Holden , your best friends broken rosary/broken nose
Pope Francis, we came to opposite levels of holy,
Heaven or Hell only knows, over standing does not exist
Mathew 6 Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
i get it.
you're more frustrated than Holden Caulfield.
don't blame the taxes
for your poverty,
blame the suits who impose the taxes.
"Gosh **** it, my phresh new frames broke."
but her anger made her happy.
Jamaican me frustrated.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
Where I'm from multicultural means multicultural and not just “lacking in white people”.
Where I'm from people say they're from Toronto even though they hate the Jays, Raptors and Leafs and hardly ever go into the city itself.
Where I'm from any day can be cynically mundane enough to read The Catcher In The Rye and mistake it for the Gospel according to Holden Caulfield.
Where I'm from everyone hates the mall, but everyone's a mall rat and if you ever go you see everyone, at least everyone you hate, and buy nothing.
Where I'm from there's signs that say “Flowertown” everywhere and an unremarkable amount of flowers. Unless there is a remarkable amount of flowers and where I'm from everyone's just spoiled.
Probably spoiled.
Where I'm from you could walk to Tim Horton's but you drive to Starbucks anyway.
Where I'm from everyone's considering a career in rap. Even the people who aren't considering a career in rap are considering a career in rap.
Where I'm from every teenager will tell you their Michael Cera encounter story.
Where I'm from is where he's from too, or he went to school there, or near there, or now his parents live near there. He's been there, multiple times, I'm sure.
Where I'm from there's an old quarry that everyone calls a lake now. Swimmers used to circulate the urban myth of a dead body at the bottom, until they found it. Now they just circulate the stale news story.
Where I'm from there used to be trees. Nature put some there until we cut them down to build. Then the people put some there to accent the houses until Nature piled ice on them and cut them down again.
Where I'm from someone needs to have a good talk with this Nature fellow.
Where I'm from the brand new hospital screams, “good things come to those who wait, and wait and wait, unless you need to see a specialist. Then you're ******
Where I'm from there are streets that have so many young kids playing on them that ice cream trucks aren't allowed to go there. They go anyway.
Kids learn early that the law is optional where I'm from.
Where I'm from people don't pronounce the “gua” in “Chinguacousy Park”. Kids used to spend time there splashing around diluted *** in the kiddie pool in summer and tubing down the landfill mountain in winter. Now they just pass it by on the way to the mall.
Where I'm from car insurance costs more than cars because everyone's late, lost and angry, but none of them would call themselves a bad driver, just unlucky.
Where I'm from boys take pretty girls skating at Gage Park. I guess they take ugly girls there too, I just know the one I took was pretty.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
**Dwelling in the secret place,
Overshadowed by His grace,
Looking up into His face,
Seeing only Jesus.
Hidden there from all alarm
Safe from danger, fear and harm,
Holden Up by His strong arm,
Dwelling there , how truly blest!
Leaving all, how sweet to rest,
Head upon my Saviour's breast,
Seeing only Jesus.
Resting there , no more to roam,
Drawing near to heaven and home,
Waiting there until He come,
Seeing only Jesus.**
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
Fourteen years old
and my life was a trap -
My ankle was caught
All red and ragged
In the jaws of an age-old machine
Designed to catch boys.
But there was a missing cog –
a little *****
because there was a way,
(There was a way)
There was a way
to
get away…
College Library,
Domed and dark,
The silence disturbed by a bluebottle’s
Rumble
And the sly ticking of my own gold watch.
Oh! Getting high on the smell of
Other people’s universes,
Tissue thin and
Dogeared immortal -
Gotcha!
I’ve got 'em all!
You can’t contain me in these walls,
I can go an – y -where.
I can get drunk on Holden’s Highballs
Or Sebastian’s brandy,
I can weep at the grave of Ignatius Riley’s
Sexually inappropriate wank-fantasy dog,
I can neatly eat Prufrock’s peach
Or a dismal breakfast in a seaside caff
With Dallow and Spicer
And dear Rosaried Rose
With one eye on the sea and
Some lukewarm tea.
I can spend a season with my namesake,
Far away from Heaven,
And shake hands with Satan as he
Finishes a speech,
Wiping his mouth on a swollen
rock,
Hot as heaven and black as a leech.
I can walk that sheep on B612,
I can whip around the Second Circle
Of Hell
Or lock myself in a toilet
With Franny,
I can live in a garret with a garrulous ****** -
I can be East of Eden,
Wonderland,
I can die in Venice,
I can shoot soldiers in the sand,
I can lust after Lo – lee – ta
Tip of the tongue,
I can be a girl,
I can be a nun,
Blow into a conch,
Diffuse a bomb,
Digest my lunch,
Be a sub,
Be a dom,
I can sparkle here,
I can be free here,
I can just be here
And there are no rules here,
Just one boy
And a book
And a bluebottle
And a watch.
Aw dear -
What a flawed design for a cage!
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
she asked if i knew what i wanted when i was 18
of course i ******* knew what i wanted back then
that is when i first fell in love with a soul sucker
and my life whent completely off course. what i wanted
****** me over, and now i don't know if i should give in
since then i sold my soul to the devil, just to give in
to get what ever i want, and still i don't really *******
think i need what i really ******* think i want
**** what i want. i want what i need
i need the old **** the **** that got me so high
that i didn't need to sleep for days, or i could sleep
and it wouldn't matter because you were watching
and i could ******* sleep as deep as i wanted to
and know that when i come up for air, you would be there
waiting to know that i fell asleep and made it alright
and that high became life, i stayed high off you so much
so that it doesn't really scare me that i talk to you at night
in my writing, or when I'm singing, or when i do *******
anything you stupid ***** what the **** did you slip in my drink????
im poisoned after the fact and i can't get you out of my blood
the way i see it, is not the same way my therapist sees it
so i keep going to him, just kidding i never see him, he hates me
or maybe he doesn't, either way he never tells me how he feels,
he just asks me questions and lets me sit in my feelings for seconds
**** that i sit in them all day, i don't need to pay to find the pain
i just ******* really need to stop sleeping or find a way to fall asleep
either of the two because i only live when I'm dreaming now,
its not the drugs, no i mean real ******* full blown dreams
like god ****** how it was back before we ****** and i told
your lover that i only enjoyed dreaming and not waking life
just because i could be with you, and yet he didn't take my warning
**** no! no one ever takes my warning, they are all too busy listening
to their own god **** ***** and hearts and blood pumping rust and
their own god **** thoughts and feelings, and it never ever occurs or
comes back to me in the end, always to them, so **** them, wait also
im gonna stop thinking about you in the end, because **** you too
youre not special enough to deserve two separate entities of people
waking up everyday thinking about how selfish, or pretty you are
or whatever else i do think about you, more like wonder because youre fake
imagination or maybe you are still alive and still exist and i didn't make you up
to hurt myself , maybe i only think about me now, i don't know yet
great . i just ******* think about how possessed i am that i have nothing
nice to say about you, good thing i say nothing at all to you, and i just spend
all this time, painting you into pictures, even tho I'm using my own blood
i say that now but until i
blow my brains out onto venetian blinds, just for the splatter effect
and because i hate them enough to waste my life on them
whatever will i do , but waste my life on you
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
I found it in the glass cabinet.
The tequila, that is,
Not you.
Is nights like these,
The ones where your image is burned into my retinas,
Upside-down and backwards,
Upside-down and backwards,
You are burned upside-down and back wards.
And not even marathons of ****** crime TV shows and remove you from me.
These are the nights that in find my self in the glass cabinet.
But there are nights that I welcome you.
The nights where I smear charcoal across my face,
Across my page,
Upside-down and backwards
Upside-down and backwards
Seeking the blue that is your eyes.
You are a welcome guest those nights,
But I am not.
It’s funny to me that you loved Salinger so,
Seeing, as you are not as lucky as Holden.
But your borrowed the book anyways.
You are the reason that I can't wear belts,
Because I always picture you in a way that I shouldn't
It's your fault my pants sag.
And you made out with a senior and I was jealous
And you were screaming.
You knew didn’t you?
That you were going to leave me?
I cannot tell if I am angry.
You are gone.
I am upside-down and backwards
Upside down and backwards
And we are broken.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
I’m not a talkative person
In fact I have sewn my mouth shut
To keep my thoughts
From spilling out
With the force of a fire hydrant
When I do talk
It’s in mumbles and murmurs
I let my words run together
I don’t even remember the last time
I finished a real sentence
Poetry runs through my veins
Every night I unzip my forearms
And let my blood
Spill out onto paper
I’m sorry I can’t bleed for you
I’m selfish
I take, take, take, and take
I buy myself Christmas presents
Birthday presents
Because I ******* deserve it presents
Grace never came easy to me
I stumble over my shoelaces
Like I stumble over my words
Thank god none of you have a pet fish
Because I would probably
Break the bowl
Cigarettes
I don’t smoke them
But **** do I find them attractive
I think bruises are beautiful
Purple, blue, and black splotches
On pale skin
Soreness when you press your fingers
Into them
Give me bruises
And I’ll give you kisses
Your eardrums can and will shatter
Under my screeches of rage
I don’t always scream
But when I do
I turn into a ******* demon
I wear granny ******* casually
Because being comfortable
Is more important
Than being ****
Every bouquet you give me
I will keep
Until they are petal-less
And brown
They will sit in a vase
And decay
And I will use the scent
As perfume
I have a skinny waist
But fat thighs
I’m a size nine
Please don’t buy me size three jeans
Most people’s voices change
With puberty
My voice changes depending
On who I’m with
When I’m with you
My voice is deep with a sarcastic tint
When I’m with your parents
I sound like a ten year old boy
I have a cranberry juice addiction
That’s getting out of hand
Sometimes I break under
Magnifying glasses
My heart drums behind my ribs
There’s a reason why
They call it a cage
I’ve read Catcher in the Rye
Five times and I still
Hate Holden Caulfield
A good day for me
Is finding socks
Without holes in them
I don’t plan on being
A mother
I can’t give you
An heir
My heart explodes
Regenerates
Explodes
Regenerates
Explodes
Explodes
Explodes
Regenerates
I love myself more
Than I could ever love anyone else
And I’ve yet to find someone
Who understands that
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
I was the one who received the faithful letter from Mr. Darcy
I was the one who held Holden when he cried
I was the one who Guy Montague thought was beautiful
I was the one who Heathcliff came back to the Wuthering Heights for
I was the one who Mr. Rochester tried to illegally marry
I was the one who D'Artagnan grieved over after the abduction
I was the one who Captain Wentworth fell back in love with
I was the one who Dorian Gray actually cared for
I was the one who Candide brought the gold for in El Dorado
I was the one who Winston Smith kissed in that attic
I was the one who cried when they all left me with a silent flipping of a page
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
181 to 200 of 3251 Poets
«891011»Viewsshow detailshide detailsSort by
Joelle Biele
To Katharine: At Fourteen Months
Veronica Patterson
Marry Me
Rick Campbell
Heart
Mary-Sherman Willis
The Laughter of Women
Sharmila Voorakkara
For the Tattooed Man
Max Mendelsohn
Ode to Marbles
Jonathan Holden
Car Showroom
David Tucker
The Dancer
Today’s News
Marianne Boruch (b. 1950)
It includes the butterfly and the rat, the ****
Some dreamily smoke cigarettes, some track
Trish Dugger
Spare Parts
Carrie Shipers
Medical History
Love Poem for Ted Neeley In Jesus Christ Superstar
Steven Huff
Safe
Lee McCarthy
Santa Paula
William Kloefkorn
"I stand alone at the foot "
Jackson Wheeler
How Good Fortune Surprises Us
Steven Orlen (1942–2010)
Three Teenage Girls: 1956
In the House of the Voice of Maria Callas
Steven Schneider
Chanukah Lights Tonight
Jessy Randall
Superhero Pregnant Woman
Anne Pierson Wiese (b. 1964)
Inscrutable Twist
Columbus Park
Regina DeSalva
Snip Your Hair
«891011»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC