"overthrows" poems
Depression isn't always hidden cuts underneath sweaters. It's not always sad music & rainy days. It's sometimes the girl who's always smiling with the sad eyes. It's your friend who always has a joke for you. It's the thin line between insanity and being too sane. The slope of your mouth that doesn't curve all the way into a smile when your thoughts become to heavy for even the hundred of muscles in your mouth to upturn. It's driving a car at 130 miles per hour and wondering how it felt to hug a tree, a numb pain that you can't feel, buts it's everything you feel. It's alcohol going down, down, down until your feelings are higher. It's medication, it comes and goes, always lingering like your allergies on the first day of spring
It's dedicated to you, seeping into your bones like the poison you take up your nose to drown out the inner demons
It's toxins slowly spreading and dissolving your strength and making you wish you weren't you
Depression isn't always black and white.
It's the brightest of teeth that flash the friendliest smiles; sunshine and birds. Because depression doesn't discriminate appearances, she doesn't care who she overcomes and overthrows. Her victims are her best friends and she's patient and she'll wait until your very worst day to come throw her arm over your shoulders and pretend she's there for you, feeding herself with the way your feeding into her shadows.
Depression is everywhere
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
There is a line
between
pain and
pleasure.
But when that line blurs-
When the pleasure overthrows
your inhibitions
and the pain numbs your body,
When pain becomes pleasure
and pleasure becomes pain,
how do you know when to stop.
I glorify it.
I crave the taste
of the sickness.
of the disease rippling across my skin,
boiling in my veins
and flowing through my blood.
Is it Healthy?
I love you,
I love it,
but is it healthy
To walk the streets at night
in constant fear
not only of what lurks in the shadows
but of you too.
Anorexic bodies
falling all around us.
Mine included.
Skinnier by the day,
yellow nails chipping and peeling,
grinding of the teeth
to procure a never ending headache.
Pale skin;
cold to the touch
from lack of circulation.
Weak in your arms
an intoxicated mind
and a heart struck through with daggers.
Blasting screams
and beats
to block out the world
and create a throbbing in our heads.
Your freak show;
My guilty little pleasure.
So sick
So satanic
So tenebrific
So twisted
so disturbed
so disgusting
so beautiful
so broken.
cradled by poison,
hold me in your arms,
a monster in the shadows
with thanatognomonic eyes.
With my thanatophobia
You manage to keep me alive.
You do it to feel the pain,
as a confirmation that you're still alive,
But I do it to feel nothing,
to feel all this pain
all these repressed emotions
disappear.
Overall we do it to stay alive,
and shred away
our pitiful sorrows
one by one,
piece by piece.
For inch by inch
we come closer
to meeting the same
fate
of our cold,
useless,
easily forgotten bodies
lying on a metal slab.
Soon to be greeted
by the maltreated Earth.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
What dew so sweet
On the morning willow grows
And the blood runs true deep
Alas the body overthrows
Pray thee to gaze
Lay waste to the east
Upon western glades
Resounds, the bay of the beast
In mortal coil
On cracked earth resign
The body transform
Lay return to the mind
And in provincial mist
Walk thee twixt the cold
Eyes upon skin
And tattered remnants of clothes
And speaketh no name
But pray eat and sleep
And rest now anon
A fortnight defeat
For liketh the moonrise
Three days a month full
Give rise, hounds of hell
Ne're the sunrise to cull
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
Head a hostile environment again
Emotion overthrows intelligence
Fragile skull accepts another beating
and indecency becomes preference
Absorbing black into gray matter
Meticulous infiltration;
Makes death a desire
and living a fear
Friendly fire
Mind battles disease, disease
obliterates mind to violence
collided with sharpened corners of myself
****** mess, wrong message
Swallowing hostile heavy medications,
contain my elation so that overjoy
doesn't morph into mania, or joy
Mass of electrons now inside
find nothing positive; thought paralyzed
Deviating cells that scare themselves
from the darkened sanguinary state.
wide eyed faces searching for a homeostasis
Far from stable since demon's rule
Constant epiphanies with no execution
turn to facts filed in brain catalogs
Fully aware solutions are there,
but the drawers are glued shut
~kb
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
Dubious sense of unresolved ambivalence
Given to implausible suppositions of fragmentation
That distinguishes itself in well meaning solemnities
Of delicious incompetence that evaporates distance
In its poignant lament of darkness
That shadows words of cruelty, indifference and rage
Oh how unbearable those misadventures of piteous overthrows
That cram into brief utterances more meaning
Than language can hold and force a confrontation
Of unresolvable contradictions hidden in such speech
That are the stilling of time, those words that find expression
In a mystic power that transforms darkness into intense light
Whilst blocking out the harsh unforgiving light of everyday
And causes mutation and change of place in disorienting fashion
In seeking a loyalty of angers by shifts of dramatic register
Views its own meaning unstable and problematic
In defense of its own legitimacy
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
I’m so alone...
It's like a thread bond,
I check my phone,
Nothing to be shown,
Or to be let known,
I hear my sigh, so out of tone,
As depression overthrows,
The night, black as charcoal...
With a few dots of sparkles...
Through it, I see my mind... Away it flown.
Afraid to go cold,
Or confront it all,
Soon I'm getting old,
Inevitable fall.
I start to think...
I'm left to die.
I start to think...
Life's passed me by...
I start to think...
What do I live for?
I can't take much more.
I shouldn't have been born...
It's so hard...
Don’t know what I've got,
Know this is all my fault,
I live in my thoughts all day...
What do I live for?
My mind goes to war...
I should have been so much more,
Though I am sure...
Never got up the floor...
It's so hard...
Don’t know what I've got,
Know this is all my fault,
I live in my thoughts all day...
Hit the bed...
Don’t know what’s ahead...
Hanging by a thread,
I think of the end...
Of death.
Feel the cold...
The pain is bold...
No trace of a ray of hope,
Only thing inviting is a gun, or a rope...
I start to think...
I'm left to die.
I start to think...
Life's passed me by...
I start to think...
What do I live for?
I can't take much more.
I shouldn't have been born...
It's so hard...
I don’t know what I've got,
Know this is all my fault,
I live in my thoughts all day...
What do I live for?
My mind goes to war...
I should have been so much more,
Though I am sure...
Never got up the floor...
It's so hard...
Don’t know what I've got,
Know this is all my fault,
I live in my thoughts all day...
I start to think...
What do I live for?
I shouldn't have been born...
And I can’t take much more...
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Before Mom got sick, Sundays always taught
me to Be still and know that I am God. I tried
to look my best when asking the sanctuary’s
chandeliers for forgiveness. Six feet deep
and seven months later, I got my first job
changing oil and on Sundays I would work
double shifts to pay for my sins, and I’d roll
them up and smoke them and they made me
Be still, and know that I was God.
Now I’m a ghost wallowing throughout this city’s
shell, haunting streets and raising hell—I’m broke
like a wallet and nervous like first days, but I am
adapting to the side effects of motion sickness,
the way my stomach overthrows my mind and liberates
my insides—defying gravity, flowing upstream
through my esophagus, they bellow out like cigarette
smoke or the sounds of my vocal chords. And slowly
I’m forgiving myself for being still for all the things
that don’t exist: I’ve found a strange heaven
in staying ceaseless.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 9:45 PM UTC
no abnormal amount of sleep could cure
the tiredness that rests inside my bones
fatigue fills the hollow cage that
dreamlessly becomes my hellish home
no obscene quantity of food could satiate
the hunger residing in my soul
my heart is empty, craving for something
adventure, fire, or the great unknown
no blinding light could truly dim
the shadow living inside my mind
whose darkness overthrows all I do
drowns my pleasure in endless night
no sins of the flesh and gloried closeness
could still my desire for intimacy
to just be held, finally feel wanted
and like I mean the world to somebody
© Tara India.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Like the swell of the screaming sea
That drowns the awaiting sands,
Unpredictability overthrows reasoning-
Abstracting me from all that still waits.
Unreachable, surreal-
As though life’s seams have been divided
By a tongue, rendering me voiceless
Amidst a thousand voices.
Words are devious; deceptive like the silent tears
That soaks my cold sheets at night.
Thoughts are a curse, merciless and unforgiving,
Plaguing honest judgements,
It is only within childhood innocence
That I find safe solitude.
In duty and in contract I’ am bound,
Though my heart is onboard ship
To familiar English shores.
Unceasingly my mind seeks out the shadows,
Torturing my affections with their poison
Of the one who holds my barely beating heart-
So carelessly in his hands.
Anna Elizabeth Rose ©
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 12:54 PM UTC
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal ***** of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
[1]
Born from the darkness,
Came from all the agony,
And came to take life.
[2]
Chaos, the name he bears
Written with all shed blood.
That is his name
Who everybody fears.
[3]
His tower of pain
And throne of suffering.
His diadem of greed
With the cape of misfortune.
[4]
What is wanted to exhume
Is what he entombs.
What is to forget?
Is what he reminisces.
[5]
Oh the woe to take
Is the pleasure he seeks.
Even the courageous
Cowards up bring.
[6]
These shackles
These walls
These shards
These thorns
[7]
These are the things
That I should overthrow.
Yet!
Yet I cannot.
[8]
For even the deity that I have
For pure goodwill
The deity that I have
Are all against his will?
[9]
For I am the opposite
I am the good
I am the benevolent
I am the enemy
[10]
I, his enemy
Though benevolent
Though righteous
[11]
I, his enemy
Though honest
Though pure
[12]
I, the enemy
Have fallen in love
[13]
To the one who caused pain?
The one who's ecstatic in wars
Attached to bloodshed
Rules ruthlessly over unforgiven souls
[14]
I fell in love
Yet I have to win
He fell in love
Do I need to win?
[15]
We are opposites
Living the opposites
Opposites that fell in love
Yet one must win
[16]
He is Chaos
And I am Concord
Both to act
How we should act
Both to think
How we should think
[17]
I fell in love
Yet I have to stop
To where I should just be
[18]
He is in love
But has to stop
To where that he should be
[19]
And though pain and suffering,
Would still be consistent,
Good will be there
To make even a little difference
[20]
But I won't win
Nor he will win
Not I to rule
Nor he to rule
[21]
For even Chaos
Only causes chaos
And I, Concord
Would only cause concord
[22]
Both won't be in existence
If one overthrows the other.
Both won't be in existence
If one isn't meant for the other.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
infrastructure flourishes
as it overthrows the serenity
of the plants that breathe.
with their last breath of sunlight,
the trees, the clovers, and the flowers
proclaim with all the force they can muster,
silence.
a peaceful protest.
promptly substituted by the silver stare of cement,
the men in yellow, orange, and brown
squint their eyes to avoid the sunlight
beating down on their tired backs.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
With a soft brushstroke,
Serenity overthrows,
The rainiest days.
The mixing hues seem,
Like they'll carry me away,
Through the mud and rain.
When our time runs out,
Our hopes and prayers defeated,
Copying our past.
Our thoughts fly away,
And leave us with the pieces,
Of our broken path.
When you're all alone,
They beauty demands the touch,
Of an artist's soul.
Heart and soul vanish,
As painting dreams grasps my thoughts,
And my mind is lost.
With these rainy days,
My thoughts wonder right to you,
The man in the past.
This is an original song: all rights reserved
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
How should I begin this, declaring my regret?
Cursing all the times that I had wished we never met?
Or maybe I should just proclaim my anguish and my sorrow
That I had not forseen, that we would not quite make tomorrow
And I'm sorry for the fact that I decided I could show
The parts of me I stowed away, the seeds I've allowed to grow
The parts of me unknown to most because it claims to hold
The part of my subconscious which would like to be known
I hate it how I used you, when I didn't ******* mean to
And I hate the way I got excited to even slightly sense you
I hate the path we walk, and I hate the way we talk,
And most of all I hate myself for letting that go
I loathe the way I claim to be so happily open minded
But can't accept when I've truly ****** it
Can't accept when I've finally lost it
Hate the memories that you conjure over my face
Like the way that I act, is the bitterness that you taste
And the part that gets me most, is how I thought you could trust
But how can one bestow a faith to a monster, so ******
Im divided by the sight of my own face in the ******* mirror
I open my mouth and silently scream like I'm scared to ******* hear it
Scared of myself, so why the **** do I care?
That when I say I'm demonic, that you'd be ******* scared?
One plus one is two for you and two for me as well
So I guess I'm asking for a second chance, to be the better Hell
Everybody has potential, so don't connect the dots
I am not the one you knew before in all his tempest, lost
I am not someone you know, despite the weight I tow
The recognition of my pain, and I know you think you know
But you don't, because here I am not so long after
Proclaiming all was over like a town shred by disaster
Destruction may be caused, and distrust where I never was,
But even nature overgrows the bombs we throw, we fly, we let go
Even friendship overthrows the venom I caused...
I'm sorry... just let me try my hand
You don't need to trust me, coz I already understand
You got skeletons in a closet, and I'm a high pressure faucet,
And I'll be waiting right here because I know I can't force it...
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Constantly it changed everything.
Overthrows hopes among people,
Varied thoughts, feelings, and demands
Ignites humans’ inability to understand, how
Deadly this virus can be.
Its existence
Creates a big change.
A change that made everything
Fall into place and Space
Or nearly destroys what’s in order.
How did the virus earn its crown?
It is on its pedestal!
Corona,
Corona, the virus!
Virus and it's viral.
Could it be a blessing or not?
Could we be grateful that it exists?
Or it merely
Destroys
Harmony and order.
Corona,
Consoles people
Offers love and care to others;
Reunites shattered and damaged ones;
Nestles kindness and patience to one and all;
Allows bonds and relations to grow deeper.
Is it an epiphany?
A sort of vision to see how beautiful our future will be,
If everyone cares to see the good in each other?
To admire and to appreciate the efforts and hard work of all men
Regardless of life status?
Is it not great to see how people around the globe love one another?
This pandemic shocked the world indeed.
It paved a way to heal what’s broken
Living and non-living things;
Yes, let us include everything that God has created.
We have forgotten our sole responsibility to His gifts.
Corona,
Cures and heals.
Optimistically changes the heart of many;
Rhetorically awakens all to contemplate;
Obliged everybody to care;
Now, behold and pray.
This too shall pass.
Many have died but this would not end
Your hope and faith.
Together we fight,
Together we uncrown
Corona!
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
The permanence of the effect of our existence and actions terrifies me. This contemporary mood swings both ways, however. My love for love outweighs and overthrows my need for food, for sleep, for air to breathe... And you, I am in awe of... My eyes do not see anything else. My heart does not desire anything else. Forever blinded by pretty girls, my naïve eyes and thoughts are focused on you. My naïve heart beats just for you. I am way too full-on, far too all-at-once, but you admire that about me and I deeply, deeply admire you.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC
each time the wind turns the pages
of the tree, the sun ripens in itself,
a fruit transfixing the day—
we take it in our hands,
lowly in the grass we lay in slender
fascination, a fresh fruit's glaze
signaling the hour.
this is when my love heightens
as rain falls inanimately on unquiet stones, revealing their naked splendor.
their silences transmuted into undressed
woes of women toiling shorelines and men striding subterranean worlds —
whereas when brightness then quells
itself and tosses you out into the deepest
chasm of chores, your locomotives unction you my sweet lovingly arms
where i bring you close to rescue,
herein darkness prevails and overthrows
water: my hands divest their fates and begin to scour for the nacre of your heart—
and i will take it, and i will own it,
for there is nothing the blue yields in depth but the lesson it shares,
leaving me a place, flat on my belly,
with a bounty of flowers in my mouth
your lips have planted like your hand
on my chest.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
like a young child from a fresh lesson,
the ones that spark imagination
that takes them through the
next 10 years,
giddy, cheesy grin,
self realization. it makes the universe unfold
at your eyes.
and its not my prize to claim,
its my birthright to claim.
I, the expression of
the music of the spheres,
the dances of the strings,
the whole of things.
expression to witness the pure glory
of things…pure.
the excitement overthrows
all the shadows of the world.
their existence, Im fully aware of.
personally. emotionally attuned.
they exist because of the Sun,
there is no getting away from
and so I can just allow them to be.
when they creep over me,
I hold high, as I know they always pass…
or I am dead, and the glory of that
is only of my imagination,
I do think of. I wonder if feeling
still exists. though I take my time to verify…
open towards the sky, child.
open towards the sky.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Today is July 4, 2020. There is not much to celebrate. **** Trump leaves us in a Polynicean gloom. Fireworks remind me of wars. I would rather, and therefore will, listen to Rachmaninov's PIANO CONCERTO NO. 2 tonight.
I will celebrate beauty rather than killing. And I will give thought to Antigone as well, for she willingly gave her life for doing what was right. I shall listen to Yuja **** arpeggiate notes. I will again become fixated both by her light-
ning dexterity and the glorious sounds to which she gives birth. Humankind has this dual potential: it can either **** or care. So why, I ask myself, does it always choose the former? On this national holiday especially, why do we now not celebrate Thomas Paine and Walt Whitman and Harriet Tubman and Eugene Debs and Martin Luther King Jr.? We do we not collectively ask forgiveness for all the covert, sinister, malevolent interventions into the affairs of other nations, resulting in unjust overthrows and war crimes aplenty? Fireworks? July 4th? We did defeat the evil of ****** and his unspeakable genocide. Let us be sure to give unending thanks to all those who lost their lives in this moral victory. But Viet Nam? The lives of 58,000 American soldiers lost for the lies of our leaders? And Kissinger and McNamara and the Bushes and Cheney and so many others in our government never held accountable for their war crimes? And yet tonight we have fireworks instead of Nuremberg-like trials. Antigone knew she would die if she buried her brother, Polynices, and yet she went ahead and buried him and died for doing it. And the 4,000,000 blacks who were slaves in 1861 and the 500 indigenous nations that covered for centuries from sea to shining sea what we now call America--did they have anything to celebrate on this day, on this date? Fireworks, that's all.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 10:10 PM UTC
I'm afraid, tearing from my elbows slung across my brow. You will never hear this song, whose fortuitous rhythm drapes me in its steps; where the drums and the melody beat inside my chest. Each and every day, every wakened hour, even through the night, when asleep I think about her, and between the weeks, on the top of every year, I still think about the reason I left and went to college. Chicago overthrows me, and everyone I know keeps 12 steps from where I go, sees me dressed in blackened clothes, but I'm over in a moment, except when I am stolid, or kept in twilight's throes from a choice I haven't chosen.
Here I am, but- I'm not moving. Each hour awake is a reason to stop going. I am weeping, you can't see, every lover I have had has left me be.
The silence tears me- opens my chest, even my own hands threaten the way in which I live. If I were music, I'd be our song, the lyrics build a place for a home where I belong.
San Francisco finds me out, California picks on me, every person that I know, pretends they don't know me. I'm awake when you're asleep. I'm the point in which you drag, you're the effort that I make, for the best I'll never have.
15 miles could be 5,000. Your pleasure could be my poison. I can't leave what I don't have, and I can't grieve although I'm sad. I write three letters unsigned and sent, "Dear You, I miss you, please come back." I wait for phone calls that don't come, I hear the rings that don't happen. I talk to ears that don't hear me, and wait for the silence the hours bring.
I use pronouns that give names envy, and keep the letters that you had sent me. I am happier but you can't see, "Dear You, I miss you, please come back to me."
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
Time goes on for so long in the dark it overthrows me
My minds grows from the dark its the only one that knows me
I've gone so wrong in this song, I don't know how to show me
I need help
But, nah, I mean just help yourself
Keep acting careless of my mental health
I mean surely I have someone else
Surely there'd be someone else
Surely there'd be something else other than hell
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
I stand in front of a stone library
that once held great knowledge therein,
but stands now empty under skies dreary.
I whisper a prayer for our sins:
Please, Lord, let the children who follow us
grow wiser than we ever were.
Let them yet be the loving kindness
that we have signally failed to confer.
I doubt that they will ever forgive us
for this fallen world that we’re handing down
thanks to all the blind disservice
by leaving little but ash on the ground.
Before us all stand two stone gates
each leading to diverging roads:
The one leads to our visible fate
while the other fate overthrows.
Please, Lord, let those born in these days
choose the path of the unknown
instead of taking the road that behind us lays:
They shall our foolishness swiftly outgrow.
What few blessings I may pass on to you,
O dear reader of the future’s present,
I give you freely in hopes of a new
rebirth in a world without end, amen.
Jan 18, 2025
Jan 18, 2025 at 9:05 AM UTC
)Together unbuilt, the gathering dust breaks the air, to only and subtly release the tensions motivated uproar from the shine of a specktor to the graveyard reasons why we play so close to fire. His curtail overthrows me, and like a wave begins the ocean I am unturned and ruthless. Scattered and bare my heart like wreckage. canvas of love and sour paint
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
Who cares about the Queen?
So she wears some pretty hats
Exoplanets spin
Americans get fat
Exoplanets spin
Astronomers find water
I have 3 sons
She has 2 daughters
Bangkok has the rains
Reno has the snows
On and on and on an on
On and on it goes
One man Overthrows!
Sep 9, 2022
Sep 9, 2022 at 10:39 AM UTC
This feeling,
Is a whisper crawling out me.
An echo made by a stranger underneath my skin.
A tiny yearning that bubbles up,
as a set of continuous chortles.
My heart beats,
and I give into phantasm.
The Crimson sun that never sets,
The moon that bathes and overthrows us with all of its beauty.
The ocean breeze and it's cool attempt,
The delicate,
fleeting,
goddess silhouette.
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 7:28 PM UTC