"needily" poems
There is a place down below,
Where the mockingbird used to crow,
Under the earth in sweet melody,
Of times gone past, and times gone needily.
In this magical place, I wander,
Speaking of times yonder,
And I speak to my friend,
About this mystical trend,
We work together underneath Charon’s Moon.
In this hell we call, soon.
We wait patiently and talk about revenge.
Ironically that it is the lies we spin, careenage,
Quicker and quickless, fast and fastness,
Speeding our demise and yours,
Upon fates sick web.
I SAW IT THEN,
What I SEE EVEN NOW
The future of MAN and the WOMAN he held dear!
And oh, the woe that lied WITHIN
The laughter so MALICIOUS
And the daughter NEVERAFTER
They all combined for some SICK DISEASE
Something I could not help but SNARL at!
I prayed then for the first time in my LIFE,
Let me take their HEARTS, their BRAINS,
Look at them MOTHER, look at their FAILURES,
What have the done, if not KILLED EACH OTHER.
And then I cried, alone once again.
My friend never there, left me again.
And my tears pooled almost high enough today,
To **** me forever.
Maybe tomorrow when I wake up forgetting again.
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC
We are Half Broke Horses, you and I.
The world has tried to tame us but our souls have resisted, and,
as a result,
we have felt loneliness and bitterness and misery.
We have known what it is to be secret outcasts, needily knocking on the walls of our own hearts.
But we stick together, you and I.
Sometimes I think that we are broken in opposite places, and,
that when we come together we create a perfect, whole sphere we call our world.
It is a slice of heaven where upon we are free to be naked,
free to be honest,
free to be wholesome,
free to be true.
It is our slice of heaven that is also our home.
It is our slice of heaven where upon we are free to rome.
And as I hold you in bed as you cry, I realise that we are Half Broke Horses, you and I.
But I don't mind... because I'm a Half Broke Horse with you.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
no cliche flowers,
petals ripped off and stuffed
under our naked bodies.
no sweet nothings whispered
into the deepest crevices of my ears.
no, nothing but
ratty floral couch
under freezing toes,
and silent breathing
-we didnt want to wake up his friends parents-
it didnt hurt,
he moved my body like i was the ocean
tide
pulling in and out
it felt like a mixture of cold
disbelief and riveting
ecstasy.
he didnt even know it was my first time,
and when i told him later, poison almost
visibly dripped down his lips,
but he was quick to **** it back in and sugarcoat
it with honey flavored chapstick.
and i'm not saying i regret it
because it was nice.
but "nice" is not enough for Chandra Lunah Moore.
and afterwards, when he tried to lock me to the small
foam and spring innards
couch
with his soft legs glowing golden with the help of an
off-kilter lamp in the corner,
when my muscles strained against his,
i knew the frightening power of human
desire.
how when he didnt offer a drag from his
cigarette
at all afterwards, just ****** at it needily,
all for himself,
didnt drape his jacket around my
treacherously shivering shoulders
like he had on the walk there,
didnt carry me the rest of the way,
stomping through the snow,
lips bitter after two long drags
off a joint,
he didnt hold me like he did so many times before,
(almost like he believed he was heavier with the weight of my
saved up childhood, like some kind of bank account. life savings,
dragging on his shoulders, making them, sag. skin heavy with my touch.
and i was lighter, without it.
i could walk.
he was obviously carrying the real burden.)
i knew, when he kissed me goodbye and it tasted like
a
wasted night
spent on not getting what he
wanted
i knew he was meaningless and i would
never again settle for
just
nice.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
The lips smile
A sideways grin
Begging for a kiss
Makes you go the extra mile
But don't scrape your shin
Enjoy giving bliss
The mouth of, which I speak
Contains no teeth or tongue
When excited begins to leak
Find the right spot, acts as if it's stung
Juicy as a freestone peach
Eat it greedily
Because when it is out of reach
You want it needily
Kiss it tenderly, nice and slow
If you are doing it right, you will know
Hands will push you into it
To stop, they will not permit.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
Do you ever want someone's
arms around you so needily,
you feel alone without them?
You want their voice to
fill your thoughts to the brim
but instead,
you are empty.
Their love should warm you,
but you are without it;
cold and lifeless.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
Is it bad
when you can't
remember to breathe
can't remember
why you must
stay on earth
can't think of
one good reason
to stay level
when every step
feels less and
less firmly planted
on the ground
can't keep a
whole thought before
you change to
the
next
line
when you feel
on the very
edge of losing
your last bit
of precious sanity
when you keep
repeating yourself and
can't remember where
it was going
when your only
escape fails you?
Is it ending
when swallowing and
breathing are harder
when vision is
blurring and faded
when words and
songs run together
when you are
ready to leave
when dark isn't
as dark anymore
when limbs go
numb and needily
when a can
looks like the
best way to
finish it all?
This is all
I have left
in me and
all I want
is to leave
and never have
to handle these
feelings and impulses
and pain again.
I want out
please believe me.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 11:28 AM UTC