"noose" poems
Am I the only one that has their demons feasting upon their souls?
They say it is easy to tie a noose around your mind,
To overcome the urges and temptations of ending your life with a suicide
They don't know the true pain and torment that is going on in my head
An epic battle that leaves me with restless nights in bed
"End your life already" they say, as they prey on me during my weakest hours
Sometimes I give into the voices, carrying the sharp blade to my wrist
Crying as I struggle to mutter three powerful words that keeps me going
Choking on my sobs, my lungs deflate with a desire to say that God loves me
I try to convince myself that God is trying to test my faith
And to just wait, wait and wait
Then my Demons will eventually go AWAY.....
~Imperfect Desire **
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that form
sente nces,
that form
rope, which
ties itself
into a noose.
Your words
are also a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
They’ll check your wrists,
But not your thighs,
They’ll check your smile,
But not your eyes
They’ll avoid the truth,
Believe the lies,
Nothing to sooth,
No reason to cry,
Our smiles are bright,
Eyes are a bit dull,
Wrists are clean despite,
The blade with an emotional pull,
And we’re emotionally unstable,
But they say that’s okay,
We are all a bit of a riddle,
But that’s the only thing we can convey,
And the world will open to swallow us up,
But that’s okay, at least our habits remain,
And when their arms finally open up,
We will show them the reflection they taught us to shame,
So we paint a smile with the color of red,
From the thighs they didn’t check,
And from our eyes we bled.
And they'll only understand,
When the noose hold us by our necks,
And if they had thought twice,
Maybe our eyes they would have checked.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
Scattered books and pens
A noose hanging from the roof
The ink running dry
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 10:19 AM UTC
He hits me.
His own daughter.
Can't he see what this is doing to me?
Can't he see the bruises that he leaves?
The kids at school have started to ask questions.
I hate to think what would happen if they found out.
I don't want their pity.
I just want my father to stop.
He is always mad at me for something.
Like last night, for example.
I made him spaghetti instead of roast like he wanted.
So, what do I get? A beating. And he ATE the food anyway. Didn't give me a single bite.
I'm hungry.
I haven't had anything to eat in about 36 hours.
Why doesn't my father like me?
Did I do something wrong? I hope not.
He wasn't always like this.
It started years ago, when I was 9.
Right after my mother had killed herself.
I had found her, sitting on the bathroom floor with empty pill bottles spread out around her.
I ran to his work, telling him the news.
He took me home, sat me down. I thought he was going to comfort me. I was wrong.
He hit me. Just like that.
I've cried every night since. Silently, though. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing he hurt me.
I get good grades, have a good singing voice.
I am School Captain, have a pretty face.
I am good at the arts, excel in sports.
I am the luckiest girl in the world, right? Wrong. Couldn't be more wrong.
School ends.
I run home.
I write a note to my father:
'Goodbye. Mum wanted to get away from you, now I am too. And the only thing I regret is not doing it sooner.'
I lock myself in the bathroom.
No, I will not **** myself with pills.
I am not my mother.
I did not marry that sick man.
No, I will defy him in the best way possible.
I run out of the bathroom.
Grab a length of rope from the back shed.
Try and prepare for what comes next.
I still remember how to make a hangman's noose.
And there I go.
I hang myself.
Right above the front door. Where he will see what he made of his little girl.
The man weeps. He knew it was wrong.
He would have stopped if he knew it was this bad.
He hates himself, but he must go on with life - and make it a good one. He will show his darling daughter that he can be a good person.
He sits on the ground, thinking of what he made of his little girl...
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 9:21 AM UTC
We tighten the noose
Around Nature
Making space for us
Enjoying the feeling
Of widening horizons
Lest we forget
We may be casualties
Of this demeanor
With no air to breathe
Leaving us gasping
The invisible noose
Tightening its hold
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
This is not a goodnight,
this is a goodbye.
I can’t promise you that you’ll see me again.
Just please know that I love you with all my heart
and I don’t mean to tear you apart.
Please don’t grieve,
instead believe
that I’m exactly where I want to be.
One.
Two.
Three.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
I remember
when you were young and wide eyed
excited at the possibility of the world
and afraid because it was all so big and you,
you were the smallest creature in a forest full of monsters
still, you had big dreams and wanted
so badly to write something
so unique and profound
something to make people understand you
understand themselves
see that we are all one
know that we all bleed the same
slippery shades of water color
even if the canvas is is different
Fear is an ugly thing and overshadows
and overwhelms, *******
the life out of life
and the colors out of the rainbow that
is supposed to shine overhead and keep
the bad the things at bay
it crawls into bed with you at night and
keeps you awake, drilling
everything that is wrong
straight through your skull and
into your soul like a
woodpecker, never ceasing
never letting you rest
there is so much that is so hard
to comprehend and make sense of
and it is so much easier to let the fear
take hold of you, wrap it's fingers
tightly around your neck
a noose growing ever tighter, strangling
while you struggle until
you have no voice left to speak
It left you choking
out fragments
and run-on sentences into a journal
that no one would ever see
that still makes me burn when
I flip through those pages reliving
the story of my life that you wrote
all those years ago
I remember
when you thought that no one could see you,
so you lived your life like a child
jumping up to see over the counter,
making make-shift ladders out of whatever
you could find so that you could grasp
everything that always seemed so far above your reach,
losing yourself so easily
in a sea of people
because they were so big
and you were
nothing
You words are a time capsule
that bring me back to a place when
when we stared at each other in the mirror
and curled our tiny fingers into a fist
wanting to smash the glass
because
we were ugly
But my words are a time machine,
my gift to you from the future
You are small still,
but the world is not as big as it used to be
and nothing ever comes easy
but your dreams are coming true,
you did not give up despite
believing so often that you would fail and
you are making a difference
I am afraid
because
everyone is afraid, but
I stand in front of the mirror
young and wide-eyed,
excited about the possibility of the world
and when I look at you now, I know
that we are learning to love each other
finally.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
my sheets are a noose
every night i swing
swing my life away
my pillow is an ocean
every night i drown
in my own tears and hopes
the pills
the people
the harsh sunlight
during the day
i am protected
i can smile without worry
the Monster is asleep
pretty pills protect princesses
but my terror grows
as the sun sinks low
the sky bright red
like the blood the Monster sheds
i wait until morning
before my eyes close
in my tears i drown
in my dreams i die
screams wake me
oh, those are mine
i'm sorry
didn't mean to wake you
no, i'm fine
just a nightmare
just a nightmare
The Monster eats pretty princesses when they close their eyes.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
There are no right answers.
The sky rejects the birds, turns them
over to gravity,
embedding them in the concrete and dirt.
The grit refuses to become a pearl,
just as the wound refuses to heal
and the flesh eats itself.
The market sees a sudden spike in
sales of Champagne and cyanide.
Coordinated efforts seek and fail
to curtail the rising tide of violence
in the nation's dreaming.
You realise that this crude, barbaric language
that you can't understand
is your own.
Beauty glitches and pixelates.
Frightened, furtive confessions of love
are unheard over proud, visceral
proclamations of hate.
Tongues divorce mouths.
Every now and then, a voice
inside your head says,
'Thud.'
The measures of sanity become
more quantifiable and
totally arbitrary.
The horizon
tightens
like
a noose.
It doesn't matter if this is wrong.
There are no right answers.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC
knuckles rubbed raw by
teeth so sharp and blunt
a tongue rough and silent
violent retching
self-harm for a throat
already held by a noose
she promises
just
one more cookie
one last bite
one last calorie
one last breath
one
the toilet bowl is her best friend
and she hugs it close
when no one can hear
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
*We all
Dance around
A fire with lipstick
On our cheeks in lines
Powdered in patterns that* will
Accentuate the contours of our bodies
Symbols written in eyeliner so daintily
Adorned like ink meeting paper we are
*Decadent 287 temptation 285 ****** 307* flame 300
*The savages you have created with media we chant
Eninimef eninimef eninimef eninimef we chant*
In a circle circulating the world with our starving
Bodies that whisper of synthetic beauty and
Neglect naked and perverse we are posing
For your cameras capturing exploitation
And degradation because ****** 307 we
Are ****** 307 temptation 285 the savages
You have created with media eninimef we chant
We are the heat of broken records and burnt out cigs
Play us like your out of tune guitar our G-strings are so
Much more loose unlike the noose of your hands grazing*
Our skin we sing what you want no matter how deep
No matter how long the song we are exactly what
You want *the savages you have created of me –
The savages you have created with media –
Eninimef eninimef eninimef eninimef
We chant – we chant – we chant – we
Decadent 287 temptation 285
****** 307 flame 300*
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
.
***Ancient games
tell tales of dust. ||| A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.***
~~~~~
It's the wits that **** not Queens of ivory or ***ink. ***
Charged with coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into* lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
*rule the moon.
~~~~~~
***Shoot on command,
C
h
e
c
k
m
a
t
e***
~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a downfell,
Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
*Just
by
throwing
s
t
o
n
e
s
.*
.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
********* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky
Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography
Good man
Soft man
Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.
No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--
A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze
Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?
He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth
Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.
God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Rebel Against Rebellion
I have nothing to prove
No creeds, no doctrine to upkeep
We all have so much freedom when we close our eyes
And just think
Maybe you need to humble yourself enough
To lose
Rebel Against Rebellion
Because they're all just books
Your sword is looking pretty dull sir
Why are you so inclined to hurt?
Thought your prophet preached LOVE?
So repeat words
Choose what you choose
Choose wisely
Because soon the snake will stop his hissing
Constrict
And become your noose
Rebel Against Rebellion
I think I'll call your bluff
I bleed, I sin, I'll die
But I'm not feeling hot standing here
So tell me again why I should be afraid
Of my fleet mortal life?
Rebel Against Rebellion
Because a Sheppard leads a flock
But you never followed
Your a goat
Caught in your lies
Bureaucracy, Democracy
Man it's all a joke
A silly excuse
Rules, the sacrum of man's brain
Your doctrine is becoming lame
And your beliefs more insane
Coliseum
A game to play to make you so entertained
Please write another rule
Prove once again
The medium you choose is jewels
You fool
Rebel Against Rebellion
Why would I cut my brother short?
Because of appearance and all your silly rules
So many when uttered I choke
For all we know life itself a joke
Oh the irony
What began as unity
Became bowing down
To man's hierarchy
So I Rebel Against Rebellion
I'm a servant of no man
I know God has a plan
That over cries your silly fear
Unravels your vines
Your words
Agenda and
"Time"
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
Taste of blood
lingering, flesh still
against the tongue.
Bound tight, the willing
neck in the noose
swallows.
All continuity
sprawls forth.
This Truth
we keep Secret
is the burden
of the throat.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Maybe it was Best for this Reindeer-Line
To Fix what should have been Fixed since ages
Or tie this Noose which lost all its Define
Then nod dearly at those Long-Horned Rages
But how, Prince, could you bear this Entropy
Even when Tories tell you to Conserve?
Such Lust, needled to their Empathy
May have Forgotten what you long Deserve
Twice that Life-Spoken Meme; And now the Third
Gushes well-rained Merriments from this Cloud
Pray, that soon admit this Settlement, heard
And invest their Songs and Prayers out Loud.
Come, take this Hymn, and sing-along with me
How greatly Petitioned; Yet not to Be.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
O blessed night I am feared
For I am a black man who can't shake spears thrown at him on the daily.
High courts let us get clipped by Brutus- clipped by brutes in fact a loose noose can hang you from any platform
Oxygen doesn't transcend class
Eric wasn't the first nor last unable to Garner breath
I... Cant... Breath.
Bill Cosby's first words after sentencing
Sandra Bland's last thoughts before being propped up
I ride around my city feeling Gray inside, DEAD inside wondering if convenient transportation is worth my life.
Othello ruled this nation for eight years yet noble souls are still treated as peasants.
I mean if all the worlds a stage, then why do they play us only when we're players or when the play, us.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
That sweet scent wafted in the warm breeze
the moment before we met.
From then on my life was changed
love came with your perfume.
Each of my emotions in hyper drive
until then not alive.
Your perfume was so intoxicating
a doting slave I became.
One direction to achieve your attention
passion drew me under it's spell.
This energy and intensity could not last
one day a shadow was cast!
I became yesterdays man brushed away
when somebody else was snared.
Like me the perfume pulled them within
my heart shattered as I watched.
Another laying prostrate at your feet
no way could I take defeat.
Jealousy never far from the passion of love
not caring when I sighted you.
Unable to control my basic human instincts
attacking forcibly my rival.
Feeling betrayed and the only one hurt
soon my body would hit the dirt!
Standing here a noose around my neck
guilty of deeply loving you!
Even as the trap door beneath me is released
the perfume will linger always.
Never regretting that deep emotional ride
you will be with me inside!
Love and jealousy unceasing like your perfume!
The Foureyed poet.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 2:53 AM UTC
The musician cries
As he sings a sweet song
He feels the same way
As he has for so long
The feeling of love and
The feeling of worth
Has all been crumbled
And put in the dirt
After a show he gets peace of mind
Finding room to breath
But still not all are kind
That night they caused him to crack
Pushed him to the limit
And that was that
He wrote one last song
Recorded it there, played it outloud
In case someone cared
Noose made from the strings of a guitar
He walked off the staff
And stopped his metronome heart
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Malice ripples
lying low, under
penetrating nightlife strobe.
Repercussions?
None to show.
Limp bodies
'getting loose'
In truth,
injected with poison;
a slow-acting noose.
Repulsive actions of the
vile & depraved
****
endorsed at raves.
Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 4:56 AM UTC
Picture the scene...
Emo punk kid, on a paper round.
Picture the scene, Emo punk kid is suicidal.
Picture the scene, creepy customer.
Weeks pass.
Picture the scene, it goes too far.
Emo punk kid pushes it and tells someone.
Picture the scene, police involved.
Picture the scene, emo punk kid attempts suicide.
Picture the scene emo punk kid has exams.
Emo punk kid falls asleep in his geography exam.
Emo punk kid has results day.
Geography teacher is there.
When emo punk kid gets told he should have done better, his world dies.
When he is told he should have gotten over it before the exams he gets angry.
When he gets told to move on he grabs a rope.
When emo punk kid's girlfriend left him, the rope made a noose.
When emo punk kid was told today that it doesn't matter that he was the victim of ****** abuse
Picture the scene, geography tomorrow morning, a rope and a stuck up fool.
Picture the scene, no more geography teacher. No more emo punk kid. No more girlfriend.
Picture the scene, now swap with emo punk kid and end it how you would.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC