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laura Apr 2018
i want to eat you
let no one else have you
tie you to my bedpost
and leave the house for the whole day

uneventful day graces
what might one say when all
the cookies are gone
make merry with marrow narrowness

the *****’s in my bedroom with
window blinds open for all to see
in shocking stark gestures
and through showering trees

my dear, where has all the poetry gone
i might answer, where the cookies
and love went, the stubbornness
of push and shove, you speak when i say you can

beg when i want you to
this is creepy you say? what gave that away
Ilion gray Mar 2014
I killed a man today
Watched as he 
passed along 
Just walking 
 The face he wore  was empty
perhaps he was happy.
I killed him
With skin , joints, and bone, crashing,
Tendons,
 ligaments ripping twisting
Pulsating vibration of strings
Mozart concerto #20,
Then...godless jumped on the Brooklyn bound L train
wandered home,
Through the cracked streets of new york city *** holes large as tiny oceans 
I leap over them, as if i were god's son, hurdling aeons.
Upon arriving home,
washed my hands clean 
of being
God spoke through the faucet
with sounds of sword and shield collapsing, glass breaking against concrete and steel the secret sound of 
His horseman riding
 That only i could hear..
Afterward
I Washed a knife and fork, 
Prepared, cooked and ate a sausage,
 skin, joints, bone, 
tendon, ground, 
Twisted,wrapped in fat
There I stood outside myself
Though my shell remained

I walked along the coastline of the forgotten 
voices,
Of those who never age.
Äŧül Apr 2015
A three-year-old boy in Cleveland,
Himself a very young little kid,
Shot a baby dead on Sunday night.

The bullet hit in the face of the baby,
Then it was rushed to a hospital,
But was pronounced brought dead.

Who is to be blamed now?
The kid toying with the gun??
Or the irresponsible parents???

I think it is the society's fault,
Needless are the guns in homes,
Shouldn't the society repair itself?

But are the blames enough now?
Can blaming bring the baby back to life?
No. A big NO!
Very saddened by reading this appalling piece of news in today's newspaper.

Profit is to be made, agreed.
But at this cost??

Gun laws need to be made extremely stringent & strict everywhere to avoid any such incidents again in future.

Guns are needless tools of hatred.

My HP Poem #836
©Atul Kaushal
Alexander T Sep 2018
I hope nobody trusts you again
like I did you

I pray you never hurt another person
like you did me

You carved into my soul
And have taken peices
They will never grow back

Dont ever say that you want to help
because you will just hurt again
you will destroy
and you will ******

This is the perfect story
for a broken heart

you made me feel good
and I just dont understand
how you killed me

I told you everything
and you continued to destroy what was left
and turned me into this

a grumpy
unwanted
suicidal being
Who you illusioned
believing all was good
while you tore me apart
and extracted my heart

I hope you never have somebody
like I thought I had in you

I hope you get what I got in you
because your time is due
you earned that

I hope nobody trusts you
because you will hurt them too

You will tell them what they need
and when its time for you to work
you will never be there

Give us that fake smile
the one that used to push the clouds away
but I know now
that the tornado is coming our way

you make things seem okay
seem liveable
just to gain your unholy power

Hurt is a childs dream
compared to this terror

I have lost all hope

you told me you will help
the only thing you helped
is to ****

Never talk to me again
I cannot bare your lies
For anyone who has ever felt this way
Khoi-San Mar 20
Guns and money
bullets and power
running and hitting
chidren in the shower
Two four year olds died in the Crossfire
I used to read
I used to write
Songs,
Stories,
Poetry.

I used to knit
I used to sew
Plushies,
Scarfs,
Roses.

What happened to the days
Where I found enjoyment from the little things?
Why is it now
That what I once loved
Feels like a chore
That tires me,
Bores me,
Makes me contemplate everything.

What happened to my carefree childhood
Where nothing mattered
Other than when I could write
Songs,
Stories,
Poetry?
When I uses to knit and sew
Plushies,
Scarfs,
Roses?

What happened?
And why?
Dark n Beautiful Aug 2018
You must never **** the spiders,
While, they are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder?
Kidnapped the poets, instead of the poems
Therefore, I asked of you to stop all useless riots
On poetry, read them, embrace them, and
Learn from them: poetry is disciplined
And disciplined is the most misunderstanding word
In the dictionary: but somehow it is said that

riots is the language of the unheard:
we must never embrace racial riots,
or racial profiling: reach out to racial equity
stop allowing the messages of hate to go viral
plants row of trees, in the name of love,
I recently came across, ants yes, I said ants

When army ants need to cross a large gap, they simply build a bridge - with their own bodies. Linking together, the ants can move their living bridge from its original point, allowing them to cross gaps and create shortcuts across rainforests in Central and South America.

I recently saw human fighting each other, I recently read somewhere
Where children were locked away in cages
,
McALLEN, Texas (AP) — inside an old warehouse in South Texas, hundreds of immigrant children wait in a series of cages created by metal fencing. One cage had 20 children inside. Scattered about are bottles of water, bags of chips and large foil sheets intended to serve as blankets.

We must never **** the spiders,
While, there are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder..
Every drop parts and rains
Along with the broken promise of the sun.
The thunder threatens the world of sleep
Where children dream with their mother's fancy.
The lamp's dead cotton sits lost in thoughts
Only to peep again with blazing eyes.
You, my love, also forgot me .
Who rules the kingdom of destruction ?
When the light withdrew from the lamp's lips,
I sat and counted promises of the day.
Who keeps his words precious for ever..?
Where is the promise not brutally killed...?

             MUHAMMED RAFEEK E

Originally published by Better than Starbucks
Sylph Jan 28
Here
No one judges me
I can live without fear
Without worry
without pain
Im free
                free..
                              Free...
A­t least thats what they told me
They told me im free
They said we're equal

Do i just eat up what they are telling me?
Like the mush they put on my plate  

                                                        ­        Or
                   Try to think for myself and possibly get me and all my friends
                              And Family
                                             Killed
This is kinda random..
Inspired by "The Giver" And "Hunger Games"
Maggi Jan 9
You killed me.
You killed me the night I went off to your house, not knowing what was awaiting me.
You killed me the moment you asked how my day was and told me that you missed me.
You killed me to moment we started smoking on your roof and you leaned towards me.
You killed me the moment you started kissing me, even though I told you not to.
You killed me the moment your ***** hands started grabbing my body and you tried to take my clothes off.
I was begging you to stop ...
The only thing I can remember is your heavy breathing and your weight burying me in the ground.
The rest of me is dead.
You killed me.
Doshi Jul 2013
The bamboo presses
against my sun-burnt back
but your lips serve well
to distract
as we tumble beneath
the coconut tree
that you say has killed three
Gabrielle Isa Nov 2017
His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison
That seeped deep into my bones
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.
ThePoet Nov 2015
A sadness I had

created for myself

that only killed my

heart in the end,

was I never had you

to have lost you

and I can't blame you

for my pretend.

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
English Jam May 2018
Drink to the woman who cared for others
Drink to the man who let her die in the gutter
Drink to those who think they have eternal youth
Drink to those who learn but don’t recognise truth
Drink to those who descend to the feet of Malkuth
Drink to those whose only wish is to hang from the roof
Drink to the liars whose only lie was that they were fine
Drink to the colours that dared to be vibrant and different from mine
Drink to the comedian whose pain is well nourished
Drink to the lover whose bruises have all flourished
Drink to the girl who doesn’t know what to believe
Drink to the guy who always feels like he has to leave
Drink to those who killed themselves to start anew
Drink to the crowd of many that thinks it’s a crowd of few
Drink to those who stand for themselves without any legs
Drink to the rich man who still stops and begs
Drink to those who worship God through death
Drink to those who don’t know they’re taking their final breath
Drink to the children who found guns way too early
Drink to the boy who was told he’s too girly
Drink to the saviour who taught peace and love
Drink to those who lived hatred to get above
Drink to the shadows who stayed carefully hidden
Drink to the people of whom the shadows were forbidden
Drink to the victims who were put into shame
Drink to the celebrities who forgot their own name
Drink to the singer who doesn’t know what the words mean
Drink to the speaker who tells stories of things he hasn’t seen
Drink to the majesties whose requests are over the top
Drink to the awkward kids who don’t know when to stop
Drink to the daydreamers lost in a drowse
Drink to the shimmering girl in a torn blouse
Drink to the society that discriminates anyone in its excess
Drink to the forgotten parade of losers, addicts and rejects
Drink to whoever sees love in the dark chapters of our books
Drink to those who are and aren’t obsessed with their looks
Drink to the new generation that abandoned its old pastiche
Drink to all who have and haven’t found their niche
Drink to the beach who had fresh scars each day
And drink to the ocean that washed the scars away

Drink, drink, drink, upon high
Raise your glass, raise your glass high

Cheers.
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