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Irah Rahim Oct 2013
Sometimes I wonder how I managed to hide all this pain within my heart.
That had screamed and banged at the door of my heart, begging for freedom.

Sometimes I wonder how I was able to hide this sorrow.
That had clawed and scratched the wall of my heart ever since.

Sometimes I wonder, how I could afford to carve a smile on this soulless face.
That needs a thousand men’s effort to make it happen.
Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
AnxiousOcean Jul 2017
One thing about rain:
it's not just water nor droplets
but bullets of different emotions.
A match stick that burns your soul
in a deep, vague coldness.

Some found happiness from it;
I once did.
And some did find something
they did not want nor expect.

But a thing about rain:
you will always find something.
It will always give you a thing,
even if you're not aware.
And when you're not aware,
let me tell you,
it is the rain.

A thing about rain,
it's a door.
A door that leads to places you once went.
A door that opens widely for a rent.
It is more than just water;
it's a memory
You can't assume it is the same place
you once longed to be.
We can't say that door is safe
nor the door is free.

Some were trapped,
some managed to escape,
some managed to smile,
and I managed to fear.
I fear that rain would prolong and
would bear a fruit.
But it didn't, it just plucked up
a great root.

How wonderful the rain could be.
How it crashed to ground a resilient tree.
How one could change with a single memory.
And how rain triggers my anxiety.
Rainy weather makes me anxious sometimes.
Angelina Aug 2016
Right now, as we speak, there's a little boy, aged five
Pushed aside on the corner of his mat, where he naps
His fingers are clenched onto shredded crumbs of bread
He managed to get his hands on this morning despite his mother's constant nags
About having to save the last few bits for his new born sister  
Ashes and rubble are his best friends ever since he can remember
Disturbance aches him no more
For everything he's ever known are dents  
He wouldn't know what the other side of the rainbow looks like, let alone both
For he's never encountered a rainbow during his yelps of pain
Pressure, abundance of destruction, humiliation
His innocent weeps never reach aid
He is now used to it
No more room to present emotion
For everything he's encountered will forever be frozen in time
He wouldn't know what peace is, ever
For contrarily that would be foreign to him
Therefore, somewhere in this world, silence takes over
This little boy whose whole life has been built on lies and disruption
Heal, Raphael! Saint on Deep Wounds repair
As the Fifth Great Angel will now allow
With Thanks as my Tray for Modesty's care
Her well-written Paper of Words everhow
And that Plus-Filled Bulb called Inspiration
Installed by the Lad diving from your Wing
Your Feather reveals such Uncondition
Like the Seven rest their Model do sing
Thorns, Horns and Unreasonable Intent,
Those Demons you Eight managed to repel
Pre or Post-Ring, one Thing I am content
That Plym's Living Daughters know how to Spell.
Especially you. The First of your Kind
Your Prince rejoices. Please bear that in Mind.
#daleysangels #xlaurenrobsonx
Lost Sep 2018
I held the flame
of a cigarette
to my arm

I closed my eyes
when I did it
But I still heard:
I sizzle when I burn

squeezed shut
my eyelids saved me
from having to stare
into the fire
as it ate up the skin
of my forearm

I melt

my flesh falls away
but mostly

I burn

deep

     deep

          down

further than
any cigarette
has managed
to reach
so far
CONTENT WARNING: Description of self harm
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
TOAST

"FIRE. . .FIRE!"

The house was busily
burning down.

"Quick. . .quick!"
Mum screeched .

"Go fetch the marshmallows!"

I dashed back
into the inferno

& emerged
long minutes later

my eyebrows ablaze
my nostril hairs slightly singed

The fire had greedily gobbled up
all the marshmallows

for itself.

"****!" said Mum.
"****...****...****!"

slapping me
about the head

with...each...uttered
syllable.

"I managed to save a loaf
of Mother's Pride!"
I cried.

"It will have to go!"
sighed Mum.

And so, we had
some toast
mannley collins Jan 2016
Lies are lies
they deny you the truth.
Truth is truth
it denies you the lie.
when examined closely both are exactly the same.
They are interchangeable.
People that tell the "truth" to you are denying you lies.
How boring and dangerous and malevolent are people full of truth.
Choose your religious truth---
Christian truth.
Islamic truth.
Judaic truth.
Vedic Hindoo truth.
Buddist truth.
Capitalist truth.
Socialist truth.
Free market truth.
Managed market truth.
Monarchist truth.
Democratic truth.
Militarist truth.
Liberal truth.
Fascist truth.

People that tell lies to you are denying you truthfulness.
How boring and dangerous and malevolent are people full of lies.
Choose your lies.
Christian lies.
Islamic lies.
Judaic lies.
Vedic Hindoo lies.
Buddist lies.
Capitalist lies.
Socialist lies.
Free market lies.
Managed market lies.
Monarchist lies.
Democratic lies.
Militarist lies.
Liberal lies.
Fascist lies.
Truthfulness is neither truth nor lies.
It exists on its own.
Truthfulness is free of the Duality of Truth and Lies..
The individual Isness exists in the state of Separate and Merged with the Isness of the Universe.
Permanent Mindlessness is unconditional love--just ask any Dog or Cat.
The Mind separates us from the Isness of the Universe.
The Mind creates Duality which is governed by Conditional Love.
The individual Isness creates Unconditional Love(Consciousness) which is outside Duality.
Mind cannot create Unconditional Love.
The individual Isness cannot create Conditional Love.
If you have Mind/Conditioned Identity in your head you cannot love Unconditionally.
If you do not have Mind/Conditioned Identity then you can only love Unconditionally.
If you have Mind and Conditioned Identity  you cannot be Merged with the Isness of the Universe.
If you are Mindless and Conditioned Identityless you are merged with the Isness of the Universe.
Conditional Love says I love you on Condition I can hate you.
Unconditional Love says I will never stop loving you but I may dissapprove of your actions but I will never hate you because I cannot hate..
Conditional Love is selective--it only applies to Family and Friends and fellow GroupMind members.
Unconditional Love is not selective--it applies to every living being--human or otherwise.
Unconditional Love does not see people as Friends and Enemies.
Unconditional Love sees people as individual Isness incarnated in bodies.
Humans are deceived by the Mind into believing that the Conditioned Identity is their true Identity and deceived by the Mind into believing that they should leave the running of their brains and therefore their lives to the Mind.
The individual Isness is a small but equal individual independent,
nameless,formless,genderless,autonomous portion of the Isness of the Universe that people controlled by Mind are taught to call a Soul.
The Soul is just another Mind created Conditioned Identity.
The Atman is just another Mind created Conditioned Identity.
The individual  Isness is formed from a small but equal portion of the essence of the Isness of the Universe and incarnated in a Human Body of either Gender-_male or female of any skin colour.



www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
Father. Mine and Yours. Both Oil Lamps at zest
Managed to hone our Characters throughout
Mine the Prime Wisdom; Yours his Water's Best
Both total Great Hearts we can't live without
So why do we Fight? If Reason betrays
And later picks our Spoils scattered by War
And who gets Hurt? Those caught between the Leys
Where supposed Joy must settle by far
Yes I am aware you find it Funny
To exploit your Gift and choose to Ignore
Is that your Model? Where your Harmony
Took some Chopsticks and plucked out those who bore.
Remember him again. And read his Lines
On Words which matter; And Self you define.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Gita Feb 2016
The world has moved on and I am fixated on one **** detail. A blank stare that lasted maybe two seconds before he carried on with his work. The look was indescribable because the expression was void of emotion. This is incredibly ridiculous, but I am so horrifically bothered by it. That **** expression. This **** minor occurrence has somehow managed to ruin my day. But here's the thing - this is routine for me. I know myself too well. I will be incredibly self-conscious from now on in that space. So many things go past that man, but my stupid digressions didn't. I am a victim of over-analysis. I will patiently wait for the day my memory will finally let this go.
Diana E Sep 2015
It's my lifeboat
that floats
center stage in the
opaque green, mucky lake.

It glistens and gleams

As its diamond eyes
stare into mine
and ****** me;
further manipulating my senses.

The lake speaks in sonnets,
admitting truths of love and desire.

It cannot live without me,
for I have always managed to make its life more "hectic in the best way possible"

-a forbidden love.

"One day we will find a way to be together", it says.

"One day you and I may become one."

I need the lake, for it has always managed to find me peace.

     Sincerely yours,
                              
                                 Curtis
1/3
Naptural Mermaid Feb 2017
How beautiful you are to me
With your varieties of colors and such
I look at you with great awe
Your beauty is my inspiration

No thrones and hooks
Just smooth skin and good looks
Not to big and not too skinny
Some how you managed
To be a perfect balance

You stand tall with pride
You stand in unity with your family
With your chest facing toward the sun
Ahh your beauty is something  
i want to become

As time grows old
My admiration for you dies
You lose your beauty
Your face turn into nothing but old bones
Black as the night
As if you hold dark secrets
Like you've been through a rough life
A story untold
Isabelle Nov 2016
In Hebrew, her name means devoted to God
She was consecrated,
An oath to God
But she never fulfilled her purpose, for she went astray
Endless and countless sins, undeniably a sinner
Living not according to the Almighty's will, but
Living according to her choice, so
Expect her to be, both good and bad


Imperfect she is, but it is what makes her human
Special, she may not be, but still out of the ordinary


Many times she was lost
Yet, still managed to be found


Not wanting to be astray, again she trusted the invisible hand
Afraid of what might she become, again she started to pray
Miserably she asked for His guidance,
E*nlightened, her faith restored, and now trying to serve her purpose
This is an old piece of mine. And yes Isabelle is my name. To all my friends here, I am officially dropping my pen name - Fallen One. Fallen One is very important and meaningful to me, and I will always be the "fallen one". But then, it will be freeing to let go of something that was holding you back for a long time.
Andra May 2015
02:47 am. i am on the bench, alone, waiting...

the stranger sees me, sighs and asks me wheezing:
"you yearn for someone, too. don't you?"
i gasp. he passes by me and stops.
"what do i have to do to get rid of the yearning? i'm not ok..."
i say nothing, but in my eyes he could've read my answer, my cries and my yearn.
my yearns...
"i should go to sleep, right?"
i smile.
„but does it go away?”
„it certainly does not go away, but at some point you will get used to it and it's like a friend new in town that you take out for a walk.”, i answer him.
"you miss him, don't you?"
i gasp again. we look quietly at each other for a few seconds. then my phone rings.
"tell him that. you might be surprised. now i'll go, pick it up. good night!"
i managed to say: "take care of your yearns!" and i picked up the phone.

it was not him.
Traveler Sep 2014
The weeping shady willow slowly swayed in the soft summer wind
Beneath of which my most vivid memory begins
By the appeal of young lust in the days of our prime
We were drawn together to this moment in time

In a meadow of dandelions our bodies embraced
As she bared her breast my heart went to race
With her eyes of blue so innocent yet wild
It was clear to see she was no longer a child

The curves of her buttocks, the shape of her hips
Were as pleasing to touch as my sister’s silk slips
As if everything I ever wanted was opened to me
To share her **** ****** body, my soul finally free

As I nosed her belly ever so lightly I felt her quiver
Lower and lower I went as it turned to a shiver
So softly I touched as her virginity flowed
I felt as if I could peer into her soul

We shared in sweet passion to a deeper degree
I gently inserted as she pulled back her knees
For a while I managed to stay in control
When she scratched down my back it was time to reload

That day with nature we were naturally exposed
For lovin’ is like music, an art to compose
Traveler Tim
re-to=02-17
thomezzz Sep 2018
she liked the color yellow because it calmed her
its brightness soothed her soul
and the sight of a yellow flower
always brought her joy
it illuminated her dark days
and stormy weather
it always seemed to try so hard
to be happy
A quality she could relate to

but one day, she met a boy who liked orange
a color she always said she hated
its hue too close to yellow
but too different to be enjoyed
she never wore the color orange
felt as if it drew attention to her
when she was content enough
to be invisible
in the corner of the room

her favorite color was yellow
and his was orange
but she never liked that color
with its harshness and severity
it reminded her
of traffic cones
and reflector vests
of emergencies
and warning signs

But one day, she realized
he reminded her of the color yellow
he soothed her soul
illuminated her dark days
and calmed her storms
he never seemed to try too hard
but always managed to make her smile

she realized yellow and orange
weren't that different after all
and when the two hues came together
her, perpetually the color yellow
him, forever orange
she felt like the only girl in the room

the colors yellow and orange
started to bleed together
and orange came to remind her
of fallen leaves
and clear sunsets
of butterflies
and sprinkled zest

and in time
as she grew to love him
the color orange started to become
just as beautiful as yellow
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