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Sombro Mar 2015
And as he learnt much more he said
No noose shall hang quite like my head.
MalakF Jul 2018
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.
MalakF Jul 2018
Today is the day I'll go down in the calendar,
It's the day of my surrender.
The day I wave my little white flag,
the day I give my life back,
the day I kneel down to the enemy
asking them to put an end to me.
I surrender,
I surrender.
Lydeen Aug 22
How
Counting
Saving
Stashing.

How many will work?

Or! Maybe I can
disassemble
my Pencil Sharpener.

Or better yet,

Knit a long,
Skinny,
Scarf.

Where to hang it though?

Perhaps I could take a
Too Hot
Bath,

And sit till it's cold.

Maybe...
Weigh myself,
Until I'm satisfied

That'd do it too.
If you get all of this sorry lol but I bet almost everyone does on here
Alaina Moore Mar 8
Being empathic is like having a noose around your neck.
Yet never knowing when someone will decide to drop the floor.
Leaving you hanging.
It follows me where ever I go,
That empty noose,
It calls to me,
Begging to bite my slender neck,
To snap it,
To distort it,
To embrace it lovingly,

It’s always hanging over my head, waiting for me to stumble,
When I make mistakes it snickers,
My throat grows stiff,
I can’t speak up,
Cause when I do, that empty noose constricts with joy hoping to finally fill itself with me,
So I’m ridiculed for not making my presence known,
I’m told that if I can’t be a team player I’ll have to find another job,

They can’t see that empty noose that never leaves my side,
So they’re convinced I don’t corporate out of spite,
They don’t see the dangerous dance I do to stay alive,
They just see me leaving early without explanation,
So they cast me aside,

That empty noose waits patiently,
So quietly, for a moment I forget it’s even there,
A fatal mistake, one slip and it’s wrapped it’s arms around me,
Squeezing shut the screams in my windpipe,
My thrashing legs do not call attention to strangers,
To them it looks like suicide,
All they see is a lonely soul who let go,
Not someone who fought everyday of their life to escape that empty noose.
If you ever feel suicidal please reach out whether it’s too me or a friend or family member.

tel:+18002738255

Above is a Canadian suicide hotline, never hesitate to call.
Moosh Nov 2018
I always thought memories would decay with time, but they only seem to become more tangible.

It feels like I'm making a rope with them.

Twisting and braiding them together, gathering them up like twine.

Hanging on every moment, every recollection, every thing about you.

I'm conscious of my folly, my unhealthy obsession. Yet I keep making it.

It is no longer the task of a madman, like it once was, but of one who is quite horribly sane.

And I'm not sure what I'll use it for, but I do know that whatever that is, it does not scare me.
More prose than poetry.
Mark Oct 23
My blues they come from those cotton days
Black slaves bought by southern racist ways
Cruel white leaders, and if our lips were to loose
This would be our ending with a tight rope noose

Simple chords, with lyrics of choice
A wealthy white boy searching for voice
Colored teaching whites, but ends with abuse
Everything ending with a tight rope noose

I brought my blues from the cotton days
Black folks appalled by others racist ways
Country of white leaders, if our lips were to loose
Everything ending with a tight rope noose

Sad child from the city mansion practices inside
A coloured mans tune on his mind, while pool-side
Racist born father with rules and abuse
Everything ending with a tight rope noose
I dreamed a nightmare
just last night
I dreamed a nightmare
what a fright
Your hands, they shook
as they gripped my throat
Your weary eyes
somehow seemed to gloat
"Look at my prize"
they seem to say
"I said I'd come
for you one day"
Those words you spat upon my face
like marks on paper, you cant erase
those awful things you did to me
and now you're climbing up a tree
with rope in hand
you tie a knot
and then you say
"Oh, I forgot"
You grab my wrist and pull me close
"Now its time for 'Adios'"
You tie the noose around my neck
bright lights surround, like discotheque  
and as you place me on the chair
I recognize that auburn hair
the way it frames your little face
you're evil but you look like grace
you look into my eyes eyes and say
you'll never see another day
you pull the chair and all I see
are my own eyes looking back at me
I wake up as cold sweats surround
the dead of night, not a single sound
my breath is fast
my face is red
and my mind...my mind
it wants me dead
Paul Mar 13
Over the bed, a ceiling fan revolves
elliptically. Yellowed walls speak
of anxieties inscribed by the lungful.
From his fingers the snaking upward blue
smoke of burning tobacco neatly describes
their spiralling tumult. She has gone back
into the world. And alone in their aftermath
he inhales as one grown distant in a moment
emptied of heroism. The sheets, worn and short,
rope round his ankles to recall a cellblock noose.
She'd done time, and for years. How she assumed
her role in the act, face to the wall, all ***, silent
and work-like. It was a thing they laughed about.
                                                                ­     He drew
deeply, and a ring of orange fire bloomed, briefly
proclaiming love remained a chance. Who
could know? Once upon a time he owned
more answers than emptinesses. A rhythmless
rock and swing of the fan beat the hot air back
onto him, the lone smoker, inhaling blankly.
The opened window, emptied of music, framed
a flawless field of sky blue nothingness
through which, into the parking lot,  its curtains
billowed like some wild tongue. And under
the window, in shadowless heat, a dog laps,
limp with thirst, at the drips that drip
from a rusty pipe.
a re-write and re-post. I've strived for meaningful enjambments and a sense of metre while attempting to sound contemporary
William Eberlein Feb 2013
Let me imply
that if I'm to die,
it will be on my own terms.

I insist,
need be even with my fist,
that I tie the noose myself.

My foot
will give its input
to the bucket.

And for a single moment
I will be buoyant
among atoms of air.

In the next I will fall,
with my shadow against the wall.

My feet will never again touch the floor.

The rope whispers one last twang
as I hang.

Eyes loose luster.

My life has burnt like Magnesium.

Fast and bright,
like the speed of light.
Manic Tendencies Mar 2018
Death is inevitable
I am dying to early though
And it is all because of you
My life is a wreck
I have problems
Beyond what you can see
You are making it worse
I feel the rope around my neck
I can't believe that
you are my noose
Kids are killers
Adults are zombies
Ghost are the most relatable
To my twisted fantasy
Ignore the people's harsh words
But sometimes you just can't
Tegan Dec 2018
even though you are killing me
i need you to feel alive
i loved you in all our fights
and our passionate nights
but you traded my love for the drugs you adored

and my lungs ache without you
ill hold onto you as if ill never touch you again
held together so closely that we breathe as one
and when you leave my body aches from the loss of your grip
the loss of your lips
the loss of all of it
Marianna Sep 2018
When i was fourteen
I learnt how to tie a rope
And practiced on a small string
until i could tie it with my eyes closed

i kept it in my pocket
i placed it in my bag
I played with it when i was lonely
and held it in my hands

Now i'm nineteen
I no longer remember how to tie a rope
But i still keep my small string
In the deep corner of my drawer
only words never actions
Rob Rutledge Aug 2018
The knife feels kind of nice.
Despite the fact it intrudes,
Protrudes from a wounded back.
The price we pay, I guess,
Closeness never quite manifests.
But it's good to know, you know?
Those who feign familiarity
Friendships staged and put on show,
Critics acclaim, shamed curtains close.
Characters who grew into the role
Far fetched with hyperbole.
Lines they speak with finesse
Lies smooth the noose of regret.
Confused they peruse part two.
I think therefore I forget.
Osiria Melody Feb 14
To all those troubled people,
who Deprived themselves of food 'cause they
were a size 20 instead of a 2,
who possessed Drawn comfort lines or
Engraved scalding designs all over their bodies,
who attempted to Snip their lives away from
the grand photo of life,
who fled from a place we call Home,
who Drank alcohol like water,
who Smoked nicotine like a campfire's burn,
who Did the worst of the worst imaginable,
I am here to let you know that there will
always be Hope.

To all those troubled people,
who Deprived themselves of happiness at
the Expense of someone else,
who possessed Gaits of Emaciated strength,
collapsing,
who attempted to Hurt their loved ones for
the Sake of protecting oneself,
who fled from a place that no one Knows,
this world needs your Uniqueness
Beauty, Dignity, Strength
Your Tears can water gardens of Happiness.
Pain can climb Mountains of pleasure.
Tell sadness to Hang itself by a noose,
Tell sadness to Shoot itself in the head,
Tell sadness to Indulge in poison,
Tell sadness to Jump off a building,
Tell sadness to Bleed itself.

For you cannot know what tomorrow will
bring,
do not let Sadness overcome you.
You're your own hero, a steadfast one
Make Sadness **** itself and spare Yourself.
I outstretch my creative hands to you
to all those Troubled people
never let go of what keeps you Going.



Melody
2/14/19
No one can take away your individuality since you're your best judge.
laura Sep 2018
so tightens the end of september
like a noose, rained for weeks straight
and i’m doing whatever feels right

you run your fingers thru my hair
and i’m embarrassed, don’t know
how to tell you how i feel

want to run away into the night
with you, want to drink again
and fight the system, its every discoloration

so each day goes
forgetting what brings the glitter
back in my eyes, smiles fading for no reason
Gracie Mar 30
''are you okay?'' they ask, as i tighten the noose around my neck
''yeah, you?'' I reply, stepping onto the chair.
they look down, avoid my eyes,
''can i do anything to help ?'' they ask
and yet, do not move from where they watch me.
''kick the ******* chair.'' i tell them ,
but they do not do that either.
they just stare, with their big ******* eyes and their mouths drawn
in a straight, dead line,
they say ‘’don’t do that, you’re better than that.’’
but when I dangle, they don’t flinch,
turn away instead and choose to ignore
the grasping and croaking

they’ll take a picture though, when the ropes snapped and
the chair’s put in the corner for another time
and ive plastered a grin to distract from the roaring red lines on my neck
they’ll take a picture to remind themselves,
what ‘’we’’ went through, they didn't cut the rope but oh, how relieved they are
it snapped.
and they want everyone to know, they were there for me then.
Alyssa Underwood May 2018
"The Struggle for Love"
"The Longing for Home"
So desperate to prove
That our hearts aren't alone

While death looms wherewith
To make dust of our flesh
We seek in a myth
Our souls to enmesh

With a hero of hope
A rescuing source
To widen our scope
And give pith to our course

An unshakable tie
An attachment at core
Which might silence the cry
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

But it's not our mere lack
Which causes most dread
It's the earth-shattering fact
That our spirits are dead

Cut off from their Source
In a black alienation
Humanity's curse
For its rank ins'bordination

We just want our own way
And to write our own story
So we plunge on astray
To seek our own glory

To play artist or muse
Or idol or chief
Any self-styled ruse
To assuage us of grief

Any measure to show
A lasting signif'cance
So that someone would know
Our unique magnif'cence

For our beauty's been marred
And we crave a redemption
Of souls twisted and scarred
By fulfillment's exemption

But, alas, we will find
That search hard as we may
There's not one of our kind
Who can carry the tray

Upon which the weight
Of our souls has been laid
For who can e'er tolerate
Its gross debts unpaid?

Such suff'cating mass
Of defects and ills
Pressed 'gainst delicate glass
Of egos and wills

Still more ghastly to bear
Is devotion unbound
For with millstone to wear
Its master is drowned

'Neath a sea of foul yeast
And becomes the enslaved
To a hungering beast
To a worship depraved

For the heart is a tiger
And must have its fill
So it raises a man higher
With a kiss before the ****

Not intentionally, of course,
Does it slaughter its idol
But of hurricane force
Is this longing so vital

And as pedestal turns
So quickly to altar
Our wounded pride burns
When our gods and alms falter

And the fire of its rage
Turns upon its obsession
Tiger breaks out of cage
To reclaim self-possession

It bites and it tears
What it once so adored
And pride no longer cares
If it kills its false lord

But upon such demise
The soul screams in terror
For it's broken its prize
And can't take back its error

It begs and it pleads
To restore what's been lost
But at end knows it needs
To consider the cost

Of the damage untold
It has left in the wake
For hearts can't be controlled
With a gush or a shake

No, men's hearts are like bombs
Which so easily explode
Once the pin is removed
All past wrongs will re-load

So the prey becomes hunter
When the tiger attacks
For he does not want her
To see what he lacks

As he, too, had put
Her up in wrong place
But now steps his foot
Upon her shamed face

To now pulverize
As his own heart's been crushed
To blind out her eyes
And to see her lips hushed

For with words idly spoken
She'd stabbed at his soul
And had left his pride broken
By her judgments so cold

She had not meant to harm
Knew not e'en that he heard
But one cannot disarm
A thought put to word

Worse than not knowing this
She no longer knew him
And her once imagined bliss
Proved a nullified whim

Oh, what games and delusions
We play and we build
Upon empty illusions
And dreams unfulfilled

Yet strangely it's when
Our worst fears come true
We can finally transcend
All those old tales we grew

Out of ego and void
Out of sorrow and pain
When our nerves felt annoyed
And our hearts felt too vain

'Cause when ego is puffed
It is primed, too, to pop
And with pinprick is snuffed
Like a pest-blighted crop

So imagine much more
When a venom's injected
Right into its core
And its heart is rejected

But can you also not see
How it needs such a burst
To begin to get free
From its self-absorbed curse?

Except now feels the matter
Of our soul's isolation
Fiercer still with the shatter
Of our pet consolation

So we wait and we wonder
If we've missed the true meaning
Of the frightening thunder
In our heart's constant screaming

Whether homesick or lost
Whether lonely or grieved
Locked in bleak Winter's frost
We find little reprieve

Yet we know we've been made
For the glory of Spring
Some card's still to be played
Some grand song still to sing

Inexpressible yearning
For some secret we know
But can't speak for the burning
Repercussions of woe

Not some mere melancholy
Nor nostalgic forlorn
Not the musings of folly
But a sense that we're torn

From primordial root
And from headwaters fresh
Yet much deeper to boot
From our spiritual breath

'Tis an ache not for wares,
Appreciation or fame
But a fight just for air
Against strangling shame

For we're naked, we know
And with all we devise
Our most flawed parts still show
To a pure set of eyes

Like we're walking around
With no covering intact
But thin hospital gown
With wide split up the back

So we hide our true face
Aim to be what we're not
Work our blots to erase
Lest our schemes should be caught

Be 't by friend or by foe
We dare not risk the pain
Of humiliation's blow
On top of our stain

But instead of relief
Anguish grows louder till
This life's loneliest grief
Paralyzes the will

And last hope all but dies
On doubt's bed of despair
While embittered heart cries
That its lot's too unfair

Yet on outside we play
Through our unconscious mind
Man's collective charade
That everything's fine

Like some pact we'd all sworn
To uphold and obey
To protect from the scorn
Of society's sway

If we run with the flow
'Stead of strive 'gainst the tide
We might make enough show
To salvage our pride

We forget that conceit
Is what caused all the mess
Through a serpent's deceit
And a couple's wrong guess

'Twas they first tasted shame
And then hid in a garden
Sewing fig leaves as claim
To secure their own pardon

Yet in horror they knew
They had squandered the Prize
And must flee from the view
Of a pure set of eyes

Now same state of awry
Runs through each of their seed
Inborn and borne by
Like the thorniest ****

Whose nettles pierce deep
And infect every part
While roots tangle and sweep
Through the mind and the heart

It mocks what we've lost
Torments every dim hope
To constrict and accost
Like a noose-tightening rope

Still, hope won't be decayed
Smold'ring fires yet burn
Sparking hints that we're made
For bright Eden's return

This redemption we crave
Is no phantom's false plea
But as crestfallen wave
Hides itself in the sea

It's been veiled in plain sight
Big as all of our stories
Deep as mankind's full plight
And as high as its glories

Cloaked in every ambition
That we have to get in
To some exclusive coalition
For its favors to win

Lurks a bleeding predilection
Frustrated from birth
A desire for election
To bestow on us worth

Lured by scent of a promise
To be chosen and known
Like the warmth of a mom's kiss
Given only to her own

We search tree after tree
For sweet intimacy's nectar
From a fruit that will be
Our secret connecter

To hope's nourishing breast
To life's honey from comb
To an undying rest
To a straight way toward home

One to wipe away tears
And allay deepest doubt
Which proceeds from worst fears
Of our being locked out

Of a garden again
Cast from pure tree of life
Dim remembrance of when
Mankind first entered strife

All our conflicts, comp'tition,
Confusion and blame
Find first cause in perdition
That's invaded our frame

Like the foulest disease
The most cankerous rot
Grown by monstrous degrees
Hatched by Lucifer's plot

This story's no ****'s attack
Nor archaic folklore
But the earth-shattering fact
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

And it's not our mere lack
which causes most dread
But the earth-shattering fact
That our spirits are dead

Cut off from their Source
In a black alienation
Humanity's curse
For it's rank ins'bordination


And yet...


This is also the story
Of how those same eyes
The Possessor of Glory
Looked with love and heart cries

On the crown of creation
His reflection of Self
Made His own treasured nation
The heirs of His wealth

Now broken and lost
All banished from Garden
And He knew the full cost
To grant them His pardon

Had known long before
He had e'er even made
That first man of yore
Yet handcrafts anyway

For His love is so strong
And He wanted to share
His intimacy with a throng
His own children to bear

So with souls in convulsion
From their rebellious misdeed
Just before their expulsion
He promised a Seed

One untainted from sin
Who could take its great boulder
And the weight of His kin
Upon His own shoulder

A Hero of hope
A rescuing Source
To widen our scope
And give pith to our course

An unshakable tie
An attachment at core
Who would silence the cry
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

For those eyes are His own
And He'd pay the full fee
By His body alone
To set our hearts free

He's hope's nourishing breast
He's life's honey from comb
He's our undying rest
He's our straight way toward home

He will wipe away tears
And allay deepest doubt
Which proceeds from worst fears
Of our being locked out

Of the Garden again
Cast from pure Tree of Life
Dim remembrance of when
Mankind first entered strife

But 'twas on another tree
That sweet intimacy's nectar
Was secured tight when He
Became sacred Connector

And the thorns of our curse
Were pressed onto His head
With not one there to nurse
As the Son of Man bled

Then the wrath for our sin
Was absorbed as He cried
And the foul curse was broken
When the Son of God died

But death couldn't keep Him long
Nor His glory dispose
And we found our lost song
When the King of kings rose!

The debt had been paid
He had finished the work
The tide 'gainst us was swayed
We weren't left in our lurk

And we've only to now
Just repent and believe
To open and allow
Our hearts to receive

Our Divine Fountainhead
Our covering complete
To sup from His bread
And to sit at His feet

To worship the One
For Whom we were made
By Whom we've been won
Whom forever we've craved

The One Who can bear
Our hearts' full devotion
The One Who won't tear
At our souls' raw emotion

The One Who will be
Sweet eternity's song
Who with lasting decree
Will...right...every...wrong
~~~

First two lines taken from Timothy Keller sermon titles;
also inspired by his other sermons:
"The Breastplate of Righteousness"
"Blessed Self-Forgetfulness"
"The Sandals of Peace"
"The Wounded Spirit"

~~~

for more on this:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2179517/the-gospel-of-jesus-christ/

~~~
Nathan Cross Dec 2014
What's a dream, if not with you?
What's a lie, without the truth?
What are gallows, without the noose?
What's without, when I'm with you?

**-N.C.
s Willow Feb 27
Tears flood
Clouding her vision.
Falling to her knees,
As her baby boy
Swings free
From the old oak tree.
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