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Tay Jun 2016
Don't fall in love with a girl who reads.
The girl who feels everything, who dreams, who writes..

Fall in love with the girl you find in a bar. Find her in the squall of smoke and sweat of an upscale nightclub. Make sure she doesn't mix her coffee with bourbon. Love the one shooting tequila straight from a cheap, half-empty bottle. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure it lingers a little too long. Use pickup lines and entertain her with meaningless slurs from a long day and mistakes you know are about to be made. Take her outside and kiss her in the rain because you saw it in a film. Comment on its silliness.

Pull her into a tolerable relationship. Let the months pass by without remark. Then let years pass by unnoticed. Talk about nothing of significance and retreat into it when the air grows stale and the evenings become long. Fight about how the shower curtain needs to be kept closed. Propose a little later because you realize you'd have wasted so much time otherwise. Take her to a restaurant that wreaks of marinara sauce and sheepishly ask the waiter to bring a bottle of expensive champagne. Offer up a modest ring and don't become too concerned if you feel nothing of sincerity or commitment. But fake it, ******* it.

Do these things. Because a life lived in purgatory is better than one lived in hell. She will make it hell. I'm begging you, stay away from the one who reads. Who laughs or cries when she makes love. Who can neatly fold her spirit and spin it into prose and poetry. If she loves poetry, run away. Don't dare to look back. She is to be left alone. Dangerous little smiles should make you shake. Do not smile back.

Do not fall in love with a girl who thinks. Who is made up of magic and knows herself. Do not love the one who knows how to disappear inside of a book or a poem or a painting. If she spends any more than a few seconds looking into the eyes of a sinner, get out of there.

Don't fall in love with the girl who is interested in politics, who feels disease in injustices. Don't love the one who is intense, who is lucid and charismatic. Stay away from the one who has any sense of ambition, of rebellion, or even the smallest hint of wonder in her eyes. Be cautious of the ones who can't live without music. If she can draw, quit, and quit fast.

A girl who reads is one who knows herself; who is sure. She is educated and she is fire inside a bottle of rye. The girl who reads is one who is comfortable with goodbyes. Think about it: she's read millions of novels and each one ends. Most end with the death of her favorite character. They make her think. And she flies through the pages like they are wet wine on collarbones. And she is okay with each and every ending. Sure, she might cry, but she'll wipe her face and pick up another book. Just to do it all over again. Remember this if she ever says her favorite book is you.

She is a romantic and how can you match up to the princes and heroes in her books? She knows nothing else. You can't love her the way those characters could if they were to take shape. She holds a vocabulary that lays claim to her ability to distinguish between the specious and the soulless. She holds rhetoric hands that turn black streaks into the books she loves so deeply. She deserves a man who can hold her hand the way she holds her books. Someone who can write her notes and hide them in her lunch box. Can you write in cursive the way she can?

Please, don't fall in love with a girl who reads. Because a girl like that, you never come back from.
I've been listening to the words of a broken man,
each syllable slips somewhere,
secluded in the dark
behind where my crippled processor lies in waiting
for the day when the ones and zeroes break the mold
away from Von Neumann Architecture,
the standard,
and forms something beautiful, fleeting from the threats
as my bits spill out of my bytes,
threatening an overflow.
I have a strong disliking
of computer science 9-1 GCSE.
JayceeJellies Dec 2014
Would you shut up for five seconds?
I wish I could say this to your face,
But you'd demolish my feelings.
Lecture me about my age.

I don't have to grow up yet.
Better yet, I refuse to.
Age is just a number to me.
I ignore your opinions, I have my own views.
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Spare me the lecture, Father.
I'm going to Hell and we both know it.
Aye, and all your choirs and blather
Won't but start me sufferin' years

Before me 'lotted time. Ye'd make
The Devil's work a ****** sight quicker
If'n I weren't deaf in both ears twice before me wake
For all your moaning for me soul.

Spare me the lecture, Father.
I'm going to Hell and we both know it
Aye, and it don't seem right a man should suffer
Twice for the same sin.
Being of working class Irish extraction and raised largely in the Maritime provinces of eastern Canada where a little blasphemy and a little more to drink surrounded me, this shouldn't surprise anyone.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
He owned books on many subjects
leather bound, with complex concepts
on which he'd ponder and reflect

He had it all, in some respects.

He could lecture quantum physics,
English literature and economics
He was renowned in academics

Though many found him quite eccentric

He explored the world only to find
That there's more to life than a brilliant mind
That there was a piece of him...undefined

See, He had never loved. He'd never pined

He knew all the math, knew all equations
He'd been to every corner of every nation
He'd learned 28 languages, knew every translation

But he was distraught by this realization

The pain he felt was too great to bear
He sank into the deepest and darkest despair
His heart was in need of dire repair

Finding love was his only prayer

He bumped into her by happenstance
and what began as an ephemeral glance
became a sucker punch from romance

She thought he was sweet, so she gave him a chance

That's when the world's smartest man finally learned how to dance
Somewhat inspired by the Dr. Who episode "The Doctor Dances"
Van Xuan Mar 14
"Do you understand?"

He woke up from his trance while silently looking at the foreign place he is in.
He does no know what he is doing there but he remember how she left him when they are still happily having their date on the other day.
He felt being hopeless in the dark when she is gone.

He ask to God why?
He feels that he is cheated
He is angry!
He hates her!
He hates her!
He really hates her!

"Can you prove that she does not love you even if she left you in the dust?"

He stared at the person asking the question.
He thought it is a foolish question
Is leaving him behind not an solid proof that she does not love me? He is dumbstruck
The question that he don't know what to feel.

"Betrayal can also mean that you are love by her you know? Do you now understand?"

And at that moment he remembered that he is in the classroom listening to his professor.

"Yes Bishop I understand everything"
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
My tires went over the cracks in the road
As I drove by people standing on the sidewalk
Exchanging words, emotions, dreams
I passed them on my way to the cul-de-sac
To exchange money, drugs, humanity
The pedestrians penetrated me
With piercing eyes of persecution
They thought they hated me for being there
But their hatred is what led me there
They injected hatred into my life
The way I injected ****** into my arm
They injected banality into my life
The way I injected ****** into my brain
They injected austerity into my life
The way I injected ****** into my heart
They prayed that my sedation was of a more permanent nature
Before that they prayed for the permanent sedation
of my ****** nature
Wanting me to be fully awake
But not fully alive
They snuck into my mind
And exchanged emotions with emptiness
I snuck into their house
And exchanged furniture with emptiness
They exchanged words with the police
Who exchanged my freedom
For everyone else's peace of mind
But the exchange between the excommunicated
Exacerbated my exiled existence
The steel bars placed before me
Paled in comparison
To the bars that surrounded my heart
And faded from memory
When the Xanax bars entered my system
Until I couldn't walk anymore
Making me Professor X
Hiding out with the other mutants
Trying to lecture the world
That zombies turn to demons
If the exchange isn't examined
When they exit their enclosure
Sidewalk standers turn to explanations more elementary
Eliminating empathy
While elevating themselves above us
This is the epitome of our exchange
patty m Nov 2014
Vaporous conjecture
an ongoing lecture sets
alarms blaring, light years away
Godling on the fringe,
on a power binge
biting pitch-black,
ready to sack the experiment in

Beyond the rise blind eyes
needn't see to surmise the indeterminable
depth of the emptiness of Earth's shadow.
Fertile fields turn fallow as hate's ****
seeds countless war-torn lands
while grand weaponry expands.
Build until we annihilate whole countries at a time
in the sublime madness of power
the glowering fallout
suffocates our shouts of glee
gasping,  
                 we forget who is or was the enemy.

To our chagrin, infusions stimulate cataclysm,
while the sun with awkward precision
does it's regular crawl,
arcing against the skyline
until it hits an impenetrable wall  

Now viscous flesh
sits congealing
gelling in turbulence's unrest
unaware that the air is putrid
now that our planet's
completely compressed.

Good bye to war, greed, and temptation,
goodbye to love and lust and prayer
some will rot in a wormhole
and no one will know they were there. .
Others will  sink in the mire
some will travel to the outskirts of time
while the rest will simply expire
to the beat of this incessant rhyme.
nja Jan 8
Stinging morning coffee bliss acompanies the first cig of the day,
It’s all downhill from here.
Does normal things Goes to lecture
Lunchtime sugar low.
Self-destructive tendencies itching,
Beer kick - gets drunk.
Being constructive is crushing.
Goes to lecure
Mind numbing normality
Home.
Fearful of loneliness and needy, go waste some hours.
Its late. Restless.
Stoop on the street,
with friends. Anxious, ill.
Wasted night.
Collapse into a shallow sleep of self-loathing.
Zombied.
Repeated offence.
An acurate describition of my daily university life. Evident is my dependency on drugs and my fear of being alone. Both loneliness and 'mind-numbing normality' are perceived as a threat. The title comes from the french word for daily life to accentuate the repetition and spiraling.
Dawn Nov 2018
i used to think about you
in the hazy moments
before a class lecture ends and a quiz begins
where i zone out
between writing my name
and answering the first question
how i zone out
half-asleep and half-bored,
but enthusiastic with the idea
of studying for exams with you.

i used to think about you
in the quiet moments
after a long *** day balancing school and work
where i walk
from the gate
to your front door step
how i walk
tired and exhausted,
but energized with the idea
of talking to you.
god, i miss having a reciprocated crush
slay Sep 2018
I slipped in the hall
On the way to the bathroom
Used to work at the mall
And got matching tattoos
With two girls I don’t know anymore
We’re still friends
It’s just a matter of the disconnect

I drove really far
Searched high and low for
The baby food jar
Where my dad hid his kilos
And the keys to the car
He hid when I smoked cigarettes
It’s a shame
I don’t smoke
I just left them lit

Don’t take it from me
I don’t know nothing
Practice what you preach
But I’m more prone to keeping it in
Don’t ask
I won’t tell
Look at you thinkin that you know me so well

I stayed up real late
And fell asleep in the morning
And she’s sit there and wait
Drive me to school in the mornings
All that’s left of my grades
Are lecture notes of diligent kids
Excuse me
Your notebook
Can I borrow it?

The ice machine’s broke
So our drinks are as lukewarm
As this conversation
Seems we have every day now
And the sad part is
I already know what you’re gonna say
If I hurt myself once
I’d do it twice
And for your benefit I’d do it three times
Tamaki Akaita Jul 2017
No rest, no tears
No lust, no fears
Not even a blink is worth of my time
Things bother your head, will not bother mine
I see through your gaze, I see through your lies
I see through it all I am one of a kind
The things that you did, the things you will do
My eyes, they see far. much further than you
So don't look at me like I owe you a dime
If you came to hate, then it's hate you will find
No need to imbue me with your rosy picture
I'm not gonna stay if you planned me a lecture
Don't seek for my help, since you're on your own
No crying will help nor the painful groan
You'll never be missed nor to me you'll be useful
The way you abused me, that's the way I'll abuse you
Gaffer Mar 2017
It was great for a time
*** and wine
Wine and ***
Then commitment and open and shut curtains.
Special delivery of child made the bond complete
Six months down the line
Breast feeding was action watched from a distance
Intimacy was a tired look
The neighbours cat looked hot
Killed the lonely nights
Killed the commitment outright
Got to know the lawyer through rapid bank withdrawals
Weekly child visit watched over by Brutus
Bar visits watched over by the world's condemned
Special occasion became a twice yearly treat
Birthday and Christmas, bit of hate thrown sideways.
Then the new man.
Felt good for her.
Maybe some pressure off.
Maybe missed that lobotomy bar lecture.
Years dragged the hate forward.
Time moved on.
One day I wrote her a letter expressing my anger.
She wrote back in triplicate.
I wrote back in double triplicate.
She sent a thesis on men and *****.
Suddenly without thinking, we had dialogue.
After a while, we moved on from the anger.
We became human again.
I actually liked writing her letters and receiving them.
We never got back together.
But the letters kept us close.
Sometimes there would be a kiss at the end.
The little bit of love I probably never deserved.
I would mention it to her in my next letter.
Even an *** deserves a solitary kiss now and again.
The bar room lawyers would probably agree.
Kat Dec 2018
I've been told
That antidepressants have side effects
That finding the right medication
Can be a process
And I always thought
It wasn't worth
The risk

But then I spent a month
Dealing with severe anxiety
And I decided
That side effects couldn't be worse
Than crying for hours
Having multiple panic attacks a week
Huddling on my bed
Too anxious to leave the house
Feeling like a shell of the person
I used to be
That I wouldn't mind
Messing with my brain chemistry
If my brain chemistry
Was already messed up

And people told me
Try meditation
Exercise more
Eat healthy
And yes, exercise helps me
But not when I'm too scared
To exercise
And meditation helps me
But not when I can't meditate
Without panicking
And eating healthy helps me
But not when I have no appetite
To eat

So I went on medication
And there were side effects
And it was a process
But I think
The drugs are helping
Cause now
I can ride a train
Sit through a lecture
Walk home from work at night
Without hyperventilating
I can get through the week
Without sobbing on the floor
Or tearing up
At a sad story or a song
I can think of the future
Without feeling
Quite so hopeless

I've been asked
Do you think you need medication?
If I thought I didn't need it
I wouldn't be taking it
And I know
I'm lucky
I know
I might start feeling worse again soon
I know
I might change my mind
And decide that being on medication
Isn't really what I want
But for now
I'm just happy
To be feeling a little more
Like myself
Again
Disclaimer: I'm not trying to suggest with this poem that everyone dealing with depression or anxiety should go on medication. I know that there are many people who don't want to or can't, and I totally respect that. I just wanted to share my story, since trying to figure out how to deal with my anxiety has been and continues to be a long and hard process.
Bousaid Ayoub Apr 10
Thinking about friends and foes and how to fight
And desperately how to sleep in the night
It has been a long time since I felt peace
I feel  overwhelmed with the urge to drop some tears
Thinking about the past, the present and the future
hearing the screams of complaints and lecture
Feeling remorse, regret and bad feelings
Seeing myself in a dream crying, begging and kneeling
And how I finished my day without any progress
Seeing the evolution of yesterday dreams digress
Seeing how I am still the same or even worse
It's like I'm being under a witch spell or curse
I'm done with all this ******* I just wanna sleep
I'm done with criticizing myself and feeling weak and cheap
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