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Z Aug 2018
Too many thoughts, too many feelings, too many faces

Yea, what’s the feeling of success?
Achieved so many things, but all I feel is regret,
I feel alone inside my head what don’t you get?
Wake up every morning like it’s still my set,
Reminisce on where I come from so I don’t forget,
Been to rehab a dozen times, they called me a vet,
You thought you knew me, I haven’t opened the curtains yet

Alcohol destroyed all my relationships
Forgot most of my life - except for the video clips,
Poisoned my brain to forget the pain, on the daily I feel insane
I’m above the ground though I can’t complain, god relieve this pain
I feel like I drank the blood of Cain,

Every day is a surprise, my brain tells me I’m so wise,
But he’s a master in disguise, while I’m the one who cries,
He’s the one who lies,
To me in my own voice watching my demise,
When he’s in in control anything flies,
It scares me, I built a fortress to disguise,
This out of control mind, I want to cut the ties
A Broad perception, in a beautiful world, through these eyes,

Try to express my feelings, no one can understand
**** it no one can, this experience is mine god had it planned
Just hope I can grow up to be the man,
The one he created to do whatever he can,
Yea, whatever he wants, his drive his will he can make a stand,
A visionary, Socrates his thoughts are grand,

Who do I trust, who I am or who I want to be,
It’s confusing with a devil living inside of me,
Loving spouse, family man what I try to be,
This bipolar got a hold of me,
Blindfolding me I can’t see,
Please doctor doctor set my mind free,
I thought I knew everything with my degree,
The lessons I learned from the things I failed to see,

Mommy and daddy got divorced when I was a kid,
I think I was 8, I can’t remember, who am I to kid,
My first blackout in life, daddy’s about to lose his wife,
So much anger, “he’s” telling me to find the knife,
Take it to the artery just a little slice,
Life’s not as nice, as people make it seem,
No one hears me scream, from the pain,
Inside this brain, some days I feel insane,
110 on the freeway trying to stay in my lane,
Drunk driving no I’m not sane,
Getting high to alleviate the pain

One day I can be the man, goals, driven, and full of will,
The next be full of sadness, regret, life stands still,
I can remember anger that drove me to ****,
You don’t know how I feel,
People probably thought I made a deal,
With the devil to have all this skill,
I write all these thoughts, hoping there’s a heart to fill,

Hope someone can relate,
I hope my pain makes you elate,
My perceptions not up for debate,
Here is my life there’s no room to understate,
The reality of my life and the things on my plate,
Strive to be in a mentally stable state,
Sometimes life’s not so great,
My minds locked in a crate, and he is the key holder of my fate,

My life feels like an afterthought,
Stepdad thought love was something that could be bought,
Used to get in trouble every time I got caught,
Only if they knew the realism of what I did, or maybe they ought
Not to know, but for the sake of the flow, I’m going to let go,
Put on a show so they finally understand what they missed long ago,

Let’s start as a little boy, all the love you showed was a decoy,
For the truth that mommy and daddy were ready to destroy,
Split us up, brown moving boxes was it all momma’s ploy?
I still don’t know the truth, I don’t want to ask or annoy

They say they fell out of love, how can you fall out of love,
Unless you gave up? Don’t you realize who’s above,
Poor American white family, three kids and divorced, man the stereo type fits like a glove,
Never got physically, but always received a verbal shove,
Psychologically I wish I could dispose of,
This garbage that’s left behind, in this mind how am I supposed to give away free love,


One day at a time, one fight, I’m going to give it all my might,
Serenity prayer please give me the light,
To accept my life and guide me right,
Some days things are out of sight,
God comfort me so I feel alright,
I’m shrouded in darkness, call me the dark knight,
Noble I’m my cause, daily life’s a plight,

As a teenager I survived off my drive,
Then there was the day I didn’t want to be alive,
Locked those feelings deep in the archive,
Padlocked in the deep parts of the brain so they don’t thrive,
Questioning the purpose of life when I was five,
Asked about space and God, curiosity already took a dive,
Most people and me don’t really jive,
One instinct on my mind is to survive,
Mania kicking in putting me in overdrive,
Found out when I was twenty-five,
I’m mentally ill, my life took a nose dive,
Time to wake up and revive,
It’s time to deprive,
The addiction and the **** I do to connive,
God im going to work on my life until arrive,
To the kingdom, hopefully I live to see thirty-five,

Todays a new day, no telling what I might do,
Try to hold my family together, backbone and the glue,
Just accept my view, everything’s not about you,
Been self-reflecting, I’m having a break through,
This story is contagious, call it reality flu,
Knocked on deaths door, Alcohol blood volume .492,

What was I thinking? Pores stinking, breath wreaking,
Family and friends shrieking, at all my drinking,
Woke up surrounded by the medical team,
Asked me if I was suicidal, I said what do you mean?
I’m a genius, with a good job, had one since fourteen,
Worked hard my whole life, why am I here confused as hell - creating a scene,
Needle in my arm, threatening to restrain me,
God please set me free, right now you’re the only one that can help me,
Ready to fight the doctors and nurses, now they’re going to petition me,

When I opened up my eyes,
Seen my momma with tears in her eyes,
Most painful look I’ve ever seen on her face,
Now I feel like a huge disgrace, wish she knew gods grace,
My hearts racing at a fast pace, anxiety took over freaking out in this place,
The realest hug ive ever felt was from momma while I was in that room,
Time to clean up my life, time to clear my mind and get out of the back room,
Where my thoughts are locked, time to forgive and bury the in their own tomb,
Most think they know me, and its dangerous to assume,
Most my life you seen me in my costume, hiding behind the monster of doom,
Spent so many hours in my bedroom, drinking so much leaving behind an ethanol fume,
Days later it’s still hanging around, how the poison turns everything into a darkroom.

12 days locked in the psych ward, hopefully I can move my life forward,
Dr. says I had an episode of major depression, I forgot to tell them about my secret obsession,
These words are the closest thing I have to a confession,
When I die take my brain for a case study dissection,
Don’t let my evil said lead you to mis-direction,
When im aware I can make the correction,
What an elusive lie, chasing perfection,
Life is about love and a real connection,
God im tired, give me a symbol give me direction,

Therapy sessions for years, did nothing to help these tears,
Still react with impulsion and anger, watch out for the danger,
the biggest fear ive ever had was the fear of myself,
and the things I was capable of to destroy myself or secure the wealth.
So many secrets it’s a masquerade, im hidden behind my stealth,
The lies created to maintain this alter-ego destroying my mental health,

My biggest pains in life are when I had it all and left it all,
My depression after mania was the biggest fall,
I felt like I was the king of the world, king of the jungle; hear my call,
My ego inflated from my achievements, made me feel tall,
Daddys dream was his oldest boy would play college ball,
Just like the song boys of fall,

Daddys dream wasn’t mine to live,
But that wont stop me from giving all I can give,
Im sorry for the night I was drunk and we got combative,
I shut that night out its not something I want to relive,
Please daddy forgive, now you’re so corroborative.

Now momma I know we do not speak,
The real issue is we don’t want to feel weak,
Why are we so strong, the ones who cant take critique,
Maybe we are so unique, and live life with such technique,
The type of thoughts people think are antique,
Their arguments bleak, our common point is its our mind we speak,

Im ready for the conversation, a common destination,
Where we live in harmony, and actions don’t lead to causation,
I hope my dictation, and the acceptance of your creation,
Allows you to accept me and the ground I call my foundation,
Rebuild our family, together we can create a formation,
Our time and love the only donation, mix em together titration,
It’s a ruination of the family, its everything I wanted it to be,

Ive struggled with every relationship,
With anyone I let close I seem to lose myself and flip the script,
Those evil days I hide in my mind, security equipped and encrypt,
I feel like im writing a manuscript, a story of a man who slipped,
On the struggles of life, and opportunities that have been stripped,

Went to college on a full ride, paid for room and board seen the debt and just about cried,
350 a month to the government talk about a life hurdle that broke my stride,
Since graduation I noticed im the new dr. jekyl and mr hyde,
Success in my life was implied, mental health hit me on my broadside,
Missed my grad school opportunity, I should have applied,
Had love going for me, turned into a landslide,
All I want to do is have a good job and be able to provide,
Im not the only one suffering this epidemic is worldwide,
I just want to sit by the lake side, retire and reside,
Somewhere peaceful where a simple life is implied,
The only downside, is the demon inside me that takes me on the regular for a joyride.

Worked 80 hours a week, drinking a fifth a day,
Most people don’t even know what to say,
To me it was just another day,
Its about to get nasty watch out for the word play,
Life not black and white live in the grey,
Area, mass hysteria, my mind runs astray,
Enough liquor in my blood to make me sway,
One wrong move may be my doomsday,
I write about my life like a final exam essay,
Giving it my all no halfway,
Yea, im making headway, opening the doorway,
For all to enter; serve up my experience like a fine dining entrée,
Living check to check, cant wait for payday,
Maybe someday, ill be on the golden walkway,
To the kingdom of god then ill be okay,
Impulses so strong its hard not to obey,
The other side of me that’s so hard to portray,
When hes manic I get risqué,
Let me paint a picture, get your tickets to the screenplay.

They say its not what you go through, but what you became of it,
My lifes not a stereotype, those stipulations don’t fit,
I seem to get back up after every hit, I couldn’t write this skit,
Im trying to use my ****, my mind feels split, I cant take this ****,
I just want to quit, go to therapy to learn skills and what to omit,
From my life, its hard ill have to admit,
Elementary school I realized I was a misfit,
Dreams in the stars, illuminated and moonlit,
Building a legacy without a permit,
Try to live life so im not a hypocrite.

Shocked by the responses to voice and gods word,
You can say in high school I was a nerd,
Football MVP and valedictorian man that’s absurd,
Wanna know my secret, ask me the password,
Stand on my own, not a part of the heard,
Forgive me for all my problems and troubles that have occurred.

The darkest secret you don’t know,
Is that im not motivated by the dough,
It’s the times where Im feeling high and low,
Sometimes it feels like time is slow,
The biggest crush to my ego,
Was when I had a 20-gauge ready to pull the trigger and blow,
Racking the shells, playing with the ammo,
The rest of my life I was about to forego,
I wanted to let go, because I wanna know
I write to share my story of experience, strength and hope.
In Recovery mentally and Recovering from substance abuse
jane taylor May 2016
eking out the ultimate gasp in my last breath of impulsion
i collapse without a touch of grace at race's end
how i made it i will never know
dazed and in bewilderment
i reminisce upon my journey

an aggregation of barricades assailed me
with iniquitous decadent delight
seeming to writhe in triumph at my possible demise
capitulating as it devoured and spewed me out the other side
i humbly reassembled fragments of my near annihilation

temporarily rehabilitated
i recommenced the toilsome climb
to the treasured peak atop the mount
when in would come the tempest with its furor
and render me asunder

mere exhaustion is not the word
for death experienced recurrently
ground to mulch and back again
screaming, pleading, surrendering
proved futile as i newly met the same demise

near incapacitation i miraculously emerged
and scraping pulled myself with broken heart and bones
scratching my way through the darkness
toppling at the pinnacle
to victory's end

with exhilaration it dawns on me
the long dark night is over
i passed the test to realize
it is not the finish line
but only the beginning

©2016janetaylor
Marge Redelicia Aug 2014
Be wary of me
My friend of frailty,
Because we see love
In different shades and
Express it in diverging ways.
I admit:
I'm a ****.
I don't way my words and
My actions are driven by
Impulsion and confusion.
My biggest fear is that one day
We would break
Or rather,
I would break
You.

I don't know how to say what I mean;
I can never fathom what you really feel.
My laughter may be hurtful daggers;
My silence may sound like crashing thunders.
Can your bones stand my embrace?
Can you hear me whispering
The things I'm too shy to say?

Truth be told:
I love you
But
Save your heart
And save my dignity.
Darling,
I think you should
Stay away from me.
Most of my friends are geeks but most geeks are sensitive people, oh well...
"Love, Love is a verb. Love is a doing word.
Fearless on my breath. Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter."
                ~~~
Snipping, mechanical apparatus of air
pushes around, the slightest elements of sound
unknown torment, blowing
leafs strewn through the corridor.
A reverse vacuum, no bag
only the earth
which perpetually maintains
the forceful stream of words
like
"snip" and "blow;"
they are verbs,
just like "love"
only harsher.

Your decisions don't merely impede the flow of days
relocating things that would like to stay
like crunchy leaves, unacknowledged beneath feet
until cries of ecstasy are heard by neighbors
who have nothing to step on.

Those discarded vestigial coverings would,
with a gentler blowing
have turned tepid, flaccid and freed.
Emerging from a snow covering
thawing and lying there, unashamed of their repose
shriveled and fully reclosed, recumbent.
Protecting from rough, sodden clothing, parts that can’t be hidden any other way--
diverging water toward infrastructure needs more urgent and vital
fallen leafs would not only **** grass, but let flowers grow
flowers of intimacy and exuberance
touching the hands of young women.

The sounds escaping mouths of leaf blowers are a demand--
they are a type of love lacking tenderness
myopic utterances of planning committees
who don’t know love is a doing word,
like snip and blow, an impulse, only gentler.
Ordinances are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of urban planning,
never seeing that leaving things concealed by Fall
is the best way to see Spring
and experience the joy of new awakening.
They should let each leafy-******* grow,
covering our shaft, our ground.
Prevent the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
And the earth will continue to cry
out!
Tiny sensations of pressure
moving delicately along its surface,
cause soil to writhe with lost control
then erupt with wild flowers and shrubs.
And if not these, then at the very least,
trampled torsion of plodded soil
covered by desperate human debris, collecting upon it
showing what we try to hide:
our wastefulness and discarding of things we really need
ripping off our closeness sheath
and replacing it with dark, green, translucent barriers
of grass
and blowing machines with blades
their maintenance demands.

Our apartment complexes have ambient
tones of industrial malls
when your procedures are taking place
you cut and snip and blow.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.
But the fearlessness of love
I feel
is something you thought you could snip
and blow.
MMXII
(This is a revision of "For ****'s sake with the leaf blowers?!?")
A group of people conspired against me at my birth
to remove a very important piece of my body
(circumcision, not castration-- this is purposefully vague in the poem,
as I feel it limits certain possibilities).
This is something I'm just beginning to write about.
Circumcision should be discussed more.

In contemporary society,
I have to deal with the sound of leaf blowers
and lawn mowers-- but I also get the benefit of
listening to Massive Attack's song "Teardrop"
which is like being rocked to sleep gently.
kirk Jan 2018
The birthday song is not a song it's not even a small ditty
As it is only four lines long it's really rather ******
There isn't a good chorus so isn't that a pity
A catchy tune it has not got and the lyrics are not witty

This song's lyrics are so short and there all the ****** same
Apart from the 3rd line down when you substitute a name
Okay you say "Dear" instead of "To", but its still a basic frame
So this is not a song at all so why has it got the fame

It's no wonder people alter the words with monkeys in the zoo
And looking like these critters and smelling like them too
Or changed to bread and butter in the gutter or squashed tomatoes and stew
Because the song is so boring so what else can you do

Who the hell wrote this song was it someone who's autistic
Come on now lets be frank and a bit more realistic
If I where to write this song producers would go ballistic
I'd get thrown out of the biz and become a lost statistic

Just because it's your birthday I'm not singing about happy
People are compelled to sing when really its just ******
It's not the best song in the world I don't want to sound so snappy
The birthday song is full of crap just like a soiled *****

It's like we are pre programmed even Marilyn Monroe
To sing the ****** birthday song just for ****** show
But honestly this song is crap and it can surely go
And we can stop with the pretence and cease going with the flow

When your birthday does arrive and your expecting a big day
The time will come when you know your ears are going to pay
Cos someone's bound to start it with or without your say
Why does it have to be sung does it have to be this way

Singing the birthday song should not be a life compulsion
Don't succumb to the trend and quash your minds impulsion  
Stamp down on the process and enforce a song expulsion
Do away with this song and all of its revulsion

The birthday song is not a song when it's sixteen words long
Half of them are happy birthday that doesn't constitute a song
The wording is so ****** thin as thin as a snapped thong
And the musical arrangement isn't even strong

People should not sing this song not even a small bit
Why is it classed as a song we should stop singing it
Most of the words are the same and there is a lack of wit
So don't sing the birthday song cos it's not a song it's ****
Austine May 2014
I stopped wearing mascara and eye-liner already.
2. There’s a ball within my gut that is benumbing my insides.
3. I look at my hands and they are trembling.
4. This is bad.
5. I’ve always known how fatal impulsion and indecision are but I never listen to myself.
6. I have my walls up but the dragon is inside, slaying every beauty I fabricated with his gigantic strength.
7. I bring handkerchiefs everywhere I go now.
8. This is bad.
9. I had been given three cards to bring into play in order for me to save myself.
10. I’ve used them all already.
11. This is bad.
12. I’m still trembling.
13. The dragon wouldn’t have been here to slaughter me and my kingdom if I hadn’t invited him in.
14. I hear his words over and over again. They sing melodies of his beautiful promises and endearments. Did I make them up inside my head? Why won’t they stop?
15. A tear left a **** across my cheek. I didn’t wear mascara.
16. It’s dark. Did the light burn out?
17. This is bad.
18. There has been an explosion from my innards. I’m all over the place. My pieces are everywhere.
19. I thought he was a prince. How could the dragon’s disguise look so real? I fixed my gaze at him (or it?) and he (or it) looked so gentle. Why is he (or it) burning my garden with his fire breath that is this cold?
20. I used to not bring handkerchiefs. I always lose them. But I have to now.
21. It’s so dark. I can’t see. Where is the light?
22. I’m lost.
23. This is bad.
24. I don’t need handkerchiefs. The tears are overflowing and they’re making an ocean around me.
25. This ocean is drowning me and I’m slowly reaching the depths of it. Will I ever re-surface?
26. I’m drowning. There’s no more air in my lungs.
27. I see the dragon. It’s hovering over me. Does he also want to wreck this ocean? Like my kingdom was just his warm up?
28. This darkness seems better than the light.
29. I can only be saved thrice. I’ve been saved thrice already.
30. Is this my end?
M P Hill Sep 2012
Impulsion takes me, touches me
Pushes me over edge- grabs me; holds me
to the edges of rash decision; split seconds
I sit oppressed, I want to stand up; stuck
I stand and rise to the occasion; fist in air
Liberation shakes me
Misunderstanding: the gadget of emotion
the clumsy angry rude substance
that interferes with any actuality
I thought for a minute you had

I am strung up by the collar

Hanging here,
Still you'll never break me
anneka Jan 2014
The first thing that hits me is the fear.

I wake up screaming in my heart, plastered to the sheets of my bed that weigh me down like an anchor. There are tears streaming down my face and I know if I could see my own face at that very moment, there would be terror; panic etched in every corner. It should comfort me, the morning rays of sunlight dancing in the room, but it doesn't. Only when I take the first inhale and exhale of the day does my pulse start to slow down, my mind reminding me that I am awake. That this is reality now, and everything that I just saw - no matter how real it seemed - was only just a dream.

I turn to my side and whisper in frantic breaths for you to still be safe, to always be safe, to be alive. It is a mindless thing, acted upon impulsion, desperation and intuition. There are things in this world that cannot be explained until a person finds themselves in that particular position, and this is one of them. This is the second time, a voice reminds me in the back of my thoughts, that I have been terrified that you have possibly passed on. Scared to the very core of my heart, even, and it frightens me to even consider the possibility of you not there.

People don’t understand. I didn't either, not for a very long time, how one can love another wholeheartedly and completely. To be connected to someone in your heart - and to just know that connection is, and has always been there. That somehow all the moments in life and everything that happened was building up to that one grand moment where it all began. That even though you try to convince yourself otherwise, you know you would do anything for them. That despite everything that has happened, you still hope for everything in the future to happen, a future with them still in it, because they’re a part of all you have.

Sleep takes me under her wing soon after my murmuring ends, but you are still at the tip of my tongue, base of my thoughts and whole of my heart.

Please, I love you. Be safe, be safe, be safe.

(A.H.Z)
vamsi sai mohan Nov 2014
O mother, take me there, where I find the gratifying grace,

Take me there, where I dwell in bliss,

Take me there, where I ramble in rapturous joy,

Take me to that miraculous planet and nurture me,

O mother, take me there, where I find the tantalizing nothingness,

Take me there, in to the surrealistic world and let me ponder over the nature’s allegories,

Take me to this exuberant excursion,

O mother, I have become claustrophobic, I cannot live in this enclosed space,

Take me to the infinity where I have no confinity,

Take me through the valleys of sunshine and glory,

O mother, Let me live the eternal love,

Let me smell the soil,

Let me hear the choirs of sea,

Let me be an epicurean,

Let me squelch and tread on the planet,

Let me see the picturesque of nature,

Let me lay my body on the roots of heaven,

Let me dandle on your knees,

Let me construe the dappled sky,

Let me live and leave,

O mother, instigate your benign impulsion,

I long to see you and the world,

I want to be resurrected,

O mother, I loved you before I knew, I believed in you before I knew.
The child descries the unfathomable beauty and exhilaration on the planet when he is in the womb and makes an earnest request to emanate him out of the gestation period....
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
The Night Table

The night table, the night stand,
Too small for all it must yeoman hold,
Something keeps falling down

Lamp, bottle of water, a single tissue, partially used, a clean corner held in abeyance for future tears when poetry writing, writing tablet for when the impulsion strikes, lamp that goes on n' off when it so chooses, a straw-woven coffee cup thing to keep off the stains of liquid time, a watch that tells you the time only when it is falling over on the way down to hit the ground, a picture frame of mother and child from thirty years ago...

if there was more room,
this list would be longer
but I already told ya,
this night table is just too **** small
which was told to you twenty years
when you bot two of them!

Re-decorate, she replies
A single word
that strikes
terror
In the heart of a
grown man.

Good thing I am still a kid
And don't any need any of those grown-up things
Listed above.

Keep those night tables babe,
Perfectly serviceable and a metaphor
For two kids like us,
Cuddling in the bed those night table stand astride,
Guardians of the place where we tell each other tales
of twenty years ago...
(I told ya they were too small)


June 1
6:54 AM
"a straw-woven coffee cup thing to keep off the stains of liquid time" - could not think of the word - a coaster, turns out that it was a good thing....
Frieda P Oct 2013
Where did it all go, that 'true love' intention
   caught up in the flames of fiery impulsion
you ride me like a stallion into oblivion
   then flip me over and tease relentlessly

I unfolded in your heat scorching touch
prayed you'd linger deep in me for a moment
your evil ways were never satiated
  wanted my tears within the luster
tore a hole in my heart then ran with it
   wanted me to worship at your feet
although that was not enough
    those nights in white satin sheets
had to be ruled by your bloodlust

You broke apart my insides,   devour'd
    me like an animalistic charlatan
back to black once again for satisfaction
   drained my heart till there was barely breath
******* the air from vital emotions
'came into my life so tenderly'
then maimed me with your mighty sword
   deep inside my psyche, you hurt me so bad

You don't need me, just want surrender
like a bitter coffee addiction, I drink you in
helplessly falling under your wanton spell
I run from you but I can't hide
           from how you unfurl my senses
that flaming yearning is all that remains
  it hurts so good, yet, it hurts so madly bad
still you left your mark on me for eternity

I beg of you taint me once again till you've had your fill
I'll die within the confines of this sweet heavenly misery
You’re my tortured skin begging to feel your touch
Your words kiss me on my lips, your description
Fascinates me, with mouths wide open you hold me
In my vision….

You tell me I am your temptress of emotions, as you outline
My face with your fingertips, you touch me with a hunger
That burns, as my hand glide across your chest.. my face
rubs your manly hair, as my vision of you makes me smile…

With every step you make me in an ****** vision tunneled
I swallowed your intoxicate silhouette, as sweat drips
From my eyelashes, my lips tremble, as you approach me
I am open in the vibration of the vision …

Our bodies molten by the hot liquid of our lava, we gyrates
In our convulsion of each other, I see you turn In my direction
My pulse races at a faster impulsion, you stand there, soaking in my sight
I don’t want to walk away from this vision ….

Debbie Brooks 2014
yasaman johari Aug 2017
=================
ocean has witnessed
almost all
but still waiting
for something
more beautiful

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
Ossa Putrescere Mar 2013
The boy brought his rocket ship and his soft pursed lips,
pressing his gentle words into the eyes, to brighten the night,
the eyes of stars.

It now shines, gleaming, but not with such loud impulsion so that the sun comes to hear;
only in a gentle glow, that mimics the boy's lively, beautiful, flow

sending a beacon to path the boy through every star and every galaxy
the path so clear,

but the boy long gone


It finds itself to shine to a slight glow
refusing to show its silent desires
of the gentle cheek of that boy

But still holding, its now, ghastly shade of path
a last hope
a final word through breath;

finally it shines no more
containing its last words
wanting to wait or hope no more
All of the world seemed to scream
except for the boy who forgot to dream.
zelda rangel Jul 2019
i feel as though i am a misplaced dirt. i don’t belong here. i don’t fit in anywhere. it seems like every place i go to will be a strange memory. like a mere fog in the city transporting your soul into vulnerability, allowing you to surrender your weeping soul. some days, the sadness consumes me. stop this ******* pain! oftentimes, when i am alone, in the dark corner of my bedroom, i say this to myself. beating my chest intensely, missing the warm glow i once had, preaching the power of internal monologues i purposely created to fabricate a picture where i am pure and glistening. but this isn’t me. i am beseeching the gods above us, have mercy on me! the unknown cause forcing my bones to feel the ache. give me the silver blades to end this madness. open lungs, dampen pillows and deep desires to take a new gaze upon the world. but the misery keeps my hands *******. the fact that i have the ability to commit a mistake drowns my body in the ocean of disappointment. hush, put me inside the coffin instead. i made my own bed. this impulsion to start anew is nonsense. the absence of one’s emotions used to make me puke. i have never known how people can easily forget a face, not until i lost myself, and to realize everything about it is a fear i will endlessly think about—for breathing the pure poison of the world is easier. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. the eccentric aftermath will always be bittersweet. in the blink of an eye, i forgot my own face.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)
do witches fall in love at witching hour?

song: breathe me - sia
Styles Dec 2015
A  fire blazing inside me.
Voracious flames burning.
Reason savaged by lust.
Devoured by vigor,  
decision persuaded by motions,
with impulsion untamed.compulsion
Desires, eager  --
fuels the flame. Gushing, pleasures
yearning flesh, requiring consumption,
of forbidden depths.
To quench a thirst,
that always remain.
For the gift of love,
is the treasure of pain.
Claudia Ramirez May 2015
Come to think of it,
I am not confident going for another one will help.
Yet my fingers reach for this
expensive poison that feeds the craving...the fixation.

In other words. Putting closure to  this impulsion is harder than I thought.
for some of the word choosing my boyfriend helped :3
Oh, the toxic substance that now flows through my veins,
Incessantly and constantly,
Composing more of myself than the very air I breathe.
Love and lust drive my compulsion,
Trying to hold back the whirlwind of anxiety and depression lurking within.

It is the antidote to the pain I feel,
While also being the very cause of the fever that now courses through my body.
Like modernity it seeks to heal something,
While also destroying something else.
I drown the impulsion to see you,
While also stoking the fire that craves your touch.

I am lost in this sea of chaos,
Marauded in such strange lands full of hope and betrayal.
The memory of you sleeping soundly in my arms soothes my soul,
While the thought of you moaning a strange name seeks to tear it apart.

How I wish to be the man you need me to be,
The man I promised you I would become.
Truth is I am merely a clown trapped in a boy’s body,
Bound to my grief like scars on my arms
Originating from a pit of sorry and anger.

*** helps me rationalize my pain,
Whiskey helps me forget how much I miss you.
Beer allows me to bury my demons deep within,
While wine’s only job is to set them free on me;
Free to haunt my every sober and drunken thought.
The book's spine had been surreptitiously eyeing him the past month,
Wedged between a vintage hi-fi tube amplifier and the wall of his closet.
Underwhelmed by the memory he had justified keeping for too long,
Upon spring cleaning he resolved to be rid of it. He grabbed his bike.
Hurtling down by the river, he uttered "...better things" and flaked it in
and briefly remembered
watching movies on videotape with her, holding each other
in the grainy glow of VHS.
Il y a des natures purement contemplatives et tout à fait impropres à l'action, qui cependant, sous une impulsion mystérieuse et inconnue, agissent quelquefois avec une rapidité dont elles se seraient crues elles-mêmes incapables.

Tel qui, craignant de trouver chez son concierge une nouvelle chagrinante, rôde lâchement une heure devant sa porte sans oser rentrer, tel qui garde quinze jours une lettre sans la décacheter, ou ne se résigne qu'au bout de six mois à opérer une démarche nécessaire depuis un an, se sentent quelquefois brusquement précipités vers l'action par une force irrésistible, comme la flèche d'un arc. Le moraliste et le médecin, qui prétendent tout savoir, ne peuvent pas expliquer d'où vient si subitement une si folle énergie à ces âmes paresseuses et voluptueuses, et comment, incapables d'accomplir les choses les plus simples et les plus nécessaires, elles trouvent à une certaine minute un courage de luxe pour exécuter les actes les plus absurdes et souvent même les plus dangereux.

Un de mes amis, le plus inoffensif rêveur qui ait existé, a mis une fois le feu à une forêt pour voir, disait-il, si le feu prenait avec autant de facilité qu'on l'affirme généralement. Dix fois de suite, l'expérience manqua ; mais, à la onzième, elle réussit beaucoup trop bien.

Un autre allumera un cigare à côté d'un tonneau de poudre, pour voir, pour savoir, pour tenter la destinée, pour se contraindre lui-même à faire preuve d'énergie, pour faire le joueur, pour connaître les plaisirs de l'anxiété, pour rien, par caprice, par désœuvrement.

C'est une espèce d'énergie qui jaillit de l'ennui et de la rêverie ; et ceux en qui elle se manifeste si opinément sont, en général, comme je l'ai dit, les plus indolents et les plus rêveurs des êtres.

Un autre, timide à ce point qu'il baisse les yeux même devant les regards des hommes, à ce point qu'il lui faut rassembler toute sa pauvre volonté pour entrer dans un café ou passer devant le bureau d'un théâtre, où les contrôleurs lui paraissent investis de la majesté de Minos, d'Éaque et de Rhadamanthe, sautera brusquement au cou d'un vieillard qui passe à côté de lui et l'embrassera avec enthousiasme devant la foule étonnée.

- Pourquoi ? Parce que... parce que cette physionomie lui était irrésistiblement sympathique ? Peut-être ; mais il est plus légitime de supposer que lui-même il ne sait pas pourquoi.

J'ai été plus d'une fois victime de ces crises et de ces élans, qui nous autorisent à croire que des Démons malicieux se glissent en nous et nous font accomplir, à notre insu, leurs plus absurdes volontés.

Un matin je m'étais levé maussade, triste, fatigué d'oisiveté, et poussé, me semblait-il, à faire quelque chose de grand, une action d'éclat ; et j'ouvris la fenêtre, hélas !

(Observez, je vous prie, que l'esprit de mystification qui, chez quelques personnes, n'est pas le résultat d'un travail ou d'une combinaison, mais d'une inspiration fortuite, participe beaucoup, ne fût-ce que par l'ardeur du désir, de cette humeur, hystérique selon les médecins, satanique selon ceux qui pensent un peu mieux que les médecins, qui nous pousse sans résistance vers une foule d'actions dangereuses ou inconvenantes.)

La première personne que j'aperçus dans la rue, ce fut un vitrier dont le cri perçant, discordant, monta jusqu'à moi à travers la lourde et sale atmosphère parisienne. Il me serait d'ailleurs impossible de dire pourquoi je fus pris à l'égard de ce pauvre homme d'une haine aussi soudaine que despotique.

« - Hé ! hé ! » et je lui criai de monter. Cependant je réfléchissais, non sans quelque gaieté, que, la chambre étant au sixième étage et l'escalier fort étroit, l'homme devait éprouver quelque peine à opérer son ascension et accrocher en maint endroit les angles de sa fragile marchandise.

Enfin il parut : j'examinai curieusement toutes ses vitres, et je lui dis : « - Comment ? vous n'avez pas de verres de couleur ? des verres roses, rouges, bleus, des vitres magiques, des vitres de paradis ? Impudent que vous êtes ! vous osez vous promener dans des quartiers pauvres, et vous n'avez pas même de vitres qui fassent voir la vie en beau ! » Et je le poussai vivement vers l'escalier, où il trébucha en grognant.

Je m'approchai du balcon et je me saisis d'un petit *** de fleurs, et quand l'homme reparut au débouché de la porte, je laissai tomber perpendiculairement mon engin de guerre sur le rebord postérieur de ses crochets ; et le choc le renversant, il acheva de briser sous son dos toute sa pauvre fortune ambulatoire qui rendit le bruit éclatant d'un palais de cristal crevé par la foudre.

Et, ivre de ma folie, je lui criai furieusement : « La vie en beau ! la vie en beau ! »

Ces plaisanteries nerveuses ne sont pas sans péril, et on peut souvent les payer cher. Mais qu'importe l'éternité de la damnation à qui a trouvé dans une seconde l'infini de la jouissance ?
NC Apr 2019
Bien des gens ont mis leurs sentiments en mots pour soulager leur cœur trop lourd.
Il me semble alors utile de le faire maintenant parce que traîner mon corps est un supplice.
Je te sens m’éviter, sachant très bien ce qui s’est passé, mais refusant de prendre ta part de responsabilité.
Nous étions deux.
Tu m’as dit que c’était compliqué.
J’ai tout accepté en étant sous l’effet de l’étincelle du moment que tu m’avais offert.
Tu exprimais tes remords tout en continuant ce que nous avions commencé.
Tout est flou à présent.
Un instant tu était l’ami qui pouvait me faire sourire même lorsque le ciel me tombait sur la tête et en une fraction de seconde, tu balayais cette relation du revers de la main.
« Je n’aurais pas dû faire ça » tu m’as dit.
Et pourtant tu l’as fait.
Je ne crois pas à l’effet de l’alcool.
Étais-je simplement le fruit d’une impulsion ou juste une autre de plus?
J’ai mal.
Je t’ai donné l’occasion de m’expliquer et tu t’entêtes à éviter de me répondre clairement.
Je ne peux plus manger.
Tout me tente et me dégoûte à la fois.
Je ne regrette pas que tu aies été le premier.
C’était à la limite romantique.
Cependant, je ne peux l’oublier, la scène repasse sans cesse.
Je ne peux pas nier que je rêve d’un autre moment comme celui-là avec toi.
Je n’aurais pas pu imaginer un first kiss plus parfait.
Oui, il m’a surpris, mais je pense qu’il le fallait.
Tu es tellement attentionné, tu ne sais pas la valeur que tu as.
Tu as su me transmettre ta confiance et ta joie.
Tu as rendu mes 18 ans inoubliables.
Passer mes mains dans tes cheveux, danser avec incohérence au gré d’une musique qui faisait vibrer de l’intérieur et t’embrasser avec un peu trop de vigueur.
Je ne pourrai jamais te dire à quel point tu es une personne hors du commun.
J’ai presque honte de mes sentiments parce que je sais que pour toi, l’amitié est le seul fil qui nous relie.
Il faut que ça sorte pour que j’aille mieux.
Je me trouve si extravagante d’en faire toute une histoire pour de frivoles embrassades de bar, mais il y a de quoi se poser des questions.
Je ne sais pas si tu aura le courage de tout lire.
Dans mon fort intérieur je sens que j’éprouve quelque chose pour toi. C’est indéniable.
J’ai passé des heures à scruter à la loupe ce que j’en pensais.
Sans l’ombre d’un doute, ce n’est pas l’amitié qui me fait vivre.

P.S. La fille qui rentra un jour au bar pour en ressortir comme une femme.
S’il te plaît, dis-moi que tu m’aimes
Adam Long Apr 2016
Emotions are like bullets
Hitting faster than thoughts
They are fraught with danger
and by design cause wars

But battles are not won
by rashness and impulsion
it takes calm and collected thought
which wont bow down to coercion

feeling this
wont help you feel that
feeling this
means your actions are no act

so think if you feel
but don't feel cause you think
promoting false emotions
causes truth to sink

did this make you think?
or did this make you feel?
and if it did both
which one was more real?
Bryce Perry Apr 2018
Physical impulsion
oh, the sweet tension of seeing yer professor’s foot shaking ‘round and fro-
As some accented booble-eye
manly from the Amazon
comes into HIS Friday classroom
full of hungered heads & He
comes in and starts talkin’ poverty!
and an all-fix-this, animals and oh
he’s got a lot of wood-bead bracelets,
I admire their tight holy fit but
this Guy’s got somethin’ to prove!

Teodros watching admiring his beautiful
beloved, young students challenging “TRUTHS”. He took the reigns now!
Claiming his wild afternoon class right under that hardened commanding voice you know he’s trained you know he’s passionate, man
for good reasons!, you know he stimulated those thoughts,
Oh Teodros, I think of you...
Somebody brought their godfather into my Eastern Philosphy class last week, these are some notes I jotted down as I observed his speech to the class.
Janet Aitch Feb 21
It's possible to make poems
about almost anything
but like most things in life
there's more to it than that
What is a rhyme?
Do all poems need them?
Must I obey rules and formulas
and stick to a code?
What about stanzas, syllables,
punctuation, presentation?
Can the number of lines
accord with the inspiration
or must there be dogmas
to govern its expression?
If I take it too seriously
I lose all impulsion
and the words which should sing
lie flat on the floor

— The End —