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Paint my heart as empty
all blue and black and grey

Around it perforate a circle
from beginning back to start

Paint it very gently
then quickly pull away

Tearing it out
without ripping it apart

Someday they'll surely place it
in the Gallery of Fools

Inside the Wailing Walls
out past the Hall of Shame

And when the people face it
they'll cherish their own hearts

As if anatomy has
anything to do with pain

©Jason Cole
Serrations of chimneys
Stone-black perforate
Velvet-black dark.
A tree coils in core of darkness.
My swinging
Hands
Incise the night.
A man slips into a doorway,
Black hole in blackness, and drowns there.
A second man passing traces
The diagram of his steps
On invisible pavement. Rain
Draws black parallel threads
Through the hollow of air.
C J Baxter Jul 2015
They dance tae boots n' cats
like ants being crushed by boots:
Squirming, wriggling, writhing
wae jaws scraping the flare.  
They scurry like wee rats
under the ground in cahoots:
snidely sneaking, snitching
under the boots n' cats they blare.

"Boots n cats urr booming doon yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years.
 Boots n cats will perforate yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years"

But then sumday changed the beat:
         It Came in oan the and.

And everyone forgot how tae dance.
Zane McHarris Feb 2016
I feel the burn in the top of my mouth
Pellets tear puncture and perforate
They open my mind and the thoughts pour out
And fill my mouth with warm liquid salt

Lead ***** race to the deepest parts
They find the obliterate the memories
They erase them, destroy the fear
Bringing peace the silence of fresh snow

Astronauts exit my skull pulling hopes and dreams
With everything I ever could have been, gone
I fall to the floor a thread unraveled at the seam
And white light covers my eyes, a blizzard of lost ambition
Don't worry about me this poem is in no way a representation of where I am emotionally
neth jones May 2021
When the crime is right
      & the devil wet
             the nocturnal forrest is a skin
                     and ceremony thin dreams broach reason
            they poach me with a caustic blooded rash
approaching as nippy darts  ; visions of shard and coil
a metallic eggy rot
                           and pan to the darkness
                                                     snapping electric

        irregular from that darkness
spaces between the trees comb
                      form a hyper hectic wealth of flushes
a blush burst discharges in the body
           booming pulse
          blooming rabidly
salivating to a ******* savagery
a nature to express
       forecast
             within permeable forrest

i have energy amazed limbs
             daring a dance
                       screamin' hole The Frenzy
             dog-shaking the head
legs flung and planted
crushing ferns
             this hefty simian sway
                      a broadcast challenge
             invitation
           a power coward
commanding a matching of kinds
                       excitation
       no longer to be foetal and cowed
             an aching unmend amended
a call is placed
the spell is rendered
    
                                 - resonate
Companion to ''Spring Gland'
Tammy Boehm Sep 2014
If I had the words
A gift of wings that would not fail
Set my sword
To perforate the veil
Cut this clinging death away
Let the light fall like rain
Solace on a summer day
But I’m bound
Dragging shackles and chains
Starving for grace
As I choke on the profane

Sacrificed my petty dreams
Bled out on the altar of fools
Propitious as light might have been
I let darkness set the rules
Circumstance stultifies the child inside
Nullifies the need
To hope for a greater salvation
My spirit fights but my head concedes
Lost in the chaos around me
If I surrender who will lead

And if by chance you went walking
Through the shattered past I’ve left behind
Pick your way through emotional wreckage
Find my inner child deaf dumb and blind
This failing hope will not carry me
As I struggle toward the light
And so I wait abandoned
As the world spins fast toward night.
I know the truth you cannot see
What I carry hidden in me…
08/22/09
TL Boehm
Morose and peppered with self loathing. But HEY it rhymes....sorta
Nadine Caruana Feb 2011
That constant rhythm played in his mind,
fingers drummed against the fragmented matter of childhood.
He'd find himself in the arms of one, with what their nimble fingers,
their constant questions, their thirst for companionship.

He had lost himself long ago, trapped behind the walls of secrecy,
The world won't turn to look at him now, his mere hand is stained with crime.
He can't remember the last time he had called himself a man,
Thought like a man, ate like one, thirsted for passions like one.

His cold stare remains unmoved, hiding the battle that quivers in his veins,
Every so often his lips are licked, demeanor utmost calculated, predator by nature, created none other by perfection, your 'God'.
His knuckles are worn to bone, crushing the wrist of youth,
His ribs perforate through flesh, hiding the shatter.

One boy, following his shadow, altered an event,
within his eyes trembled a single cure, no more.
Trapped was he under his lover's harm,
but devoted he remained, and hid against his bone.

Sometimes the boy would watch him sleep, and question why his eyes were so worn in slumber.
Sometimes the man would watch him sleep, and try to seek comfort in a youth he'd never gained nor aspired to.

Knotted in limb, questionable in intention, they tear at each others skin,
Hoping for some answer to every fault they bear.
Now the only song he'll ever play to him, lies within the rhythm of the rain; unheard.

- N.C
written for a -----
I feel so much more at home
when the Sun isn't shown;

Walking the streets at Night
while my side of the World sleeps.
Not for some sought after seclusion,
but rather because I just like it.

Billions of specks perforate the blackened sky
as billions of Neurons fire and forget.

Nighttime is mystical;
the inner self has more space to fill than in the daytime,
wherein the gaps are filled for us
by ******* in fancy offices we pay for
who weave tapestries of demagoguery
in front of nice cameras
and behind closed doors:

Clear as Day,
Clever as Night.

Though Day has it's place,
Night is it's balance.
Night is the supple ripeness of potential
where Day is the actualization of potential.

Nyx is the Goddess of the Night;
mother of Sleep, Dreams and Death.
A strange and shy Goddess of Occlusion,
Keeper of the darkened Gateways
of deeper and truer Understanding.

Night is a Dream;
a magical time of mythical atonement
for both Body and the Mind:
a time nearly separate from time,
a time of my own.

Alas, daybreak is neigh.
crowbarius Aug 2012
I am feeling very ******* nervous at this moment
Cold sweat. Twisting gut.
It seems I’ve worked myself into a rut
And now I’m freaking out.
My face is tighter than it ought to be
A good lobotomy would calm me down.
A local anaesthetic would suffice;
I’d usher in the ice,
And let a needle perforate my cranium.
My nerves would lie prostrate.
I would be quite devoid of love or hate.
I’d cease to stab at mortal ties;
Cease to believe immoral lies
(And then the ice, the numbing ice
Would quicken my demise.)
Justin S Wampler Dec 2016
o, crashing doubt upon us,
such as gravity grounds meteors,
burning us smaller and hotter,
as we rip along through
layers upon layers of atmosphere.

Impact was subtle though,
with nary a crater
or fissure between us,
and we cooled down softly,
slightly steaming
on a December afternoon.

It's our love of course,
and our friendship,
that let us perforate the skies
without qualm,
or any harm
to become of us.
She is there.
The return of the one, the irrefutable girl.
Butterscotch hair flows, water down her back,
eyes perforate the darkness of my days.
Bang! An explosion in the mind. The brain screams ‘again’.
Do not run. Wait. Take it in, a trapped moment in time.

Thoughts collide then disperse.
Colours writhe rapidly, a kaleidoscope
as she moves closer. I can see her face.
Sweet taste, smile so intoxicating,
nothing can be said to change this smitten fool.

Too precious to touch, she is the glass, me the reflection.
Not mine, not yet, not a chance?
This is it, that moment when.
**** that thought, curse you to hell and beyond.
Doubt, the enemy, the old antagonist, can’t you drown
in the ocean of loathed emotions?

A step closer, God help me now,
every breath, heartbeat, blink, heartbeat.
Her splendour is too much, this drug too powerful.
I don’t like this anymore mother,
can I go back inside now?

Too late, her hand is in mine.
Now I am lost, she will not save me from this tsunami
but **** me in, deeper so I cannot see, hear, think or believe.
It cannot be right, it so cannot be true,
but…but…it is.
It is.
It is.

“Are you coming then or what?”
Written: September 2011 and January 2012.
Explanation: This poem is about a friend of mine and was the first poem I wrote in preparation for university. It is a poem that I go back to many times to make adjustments.
Us poets,
We perforate the darkness within us
with the light of the Sun.
Soak ourselves in melancholy
like a worn out sponge
and call it inspiration.
Spite like a trail of gunpowder
lit with mad passion
and fulminate onto a piece of paper
tranfused from the nooks of our hearts,
white turns red
coarse in red,
red with lingering passion.

Into
Something digestible
for discening eyes
thoroughly wayward among wilted leaves
vagrant souls with their mouths
stitched because of
the dolour of misunderstanding
hissing with the wind in search
of something or someone
to relate to.

We make it seem like we're not so alone in this world.
A tribute to all of us poets out there. Letting the world know that they are not the only ones who feel a particular emotion. To us! :)
grumpy thumb Nov 2015
A moon claw of light
ripping thin cloud skin.
Illuminating the thicker swell
with halo bright.
Not enough for stars to perforate and accessorize the night.

One trudging through old mulch
shuffling for a truffle
worth its weight in ink.
Should have looked up sooner,
but who can think
when the gravity of necessity
pressurizes you to remain grounded
and weary eyes to sink.
Compassion is a distraction
Leaving butterflies and still question marks
While I'm smiling, groaning, and thrashing
Swimming in a cesspool filled with cruel sharks
Not used to kind remarks and the complimentary excess
So I hashtag fallacies and clever messages to make them all perplexed

Then
Come the moment of truth cross them out wave goodbye
And slash every last dime a dozen heart
If what they were saying was genuine. . .
I'd find a way
To be disappointed from the start
Pixellated picture frames hover play over dull space
When it's the only real way to me I ever get to see your full face
And when left alone in the confines of a necessary moment
I'd lead with retrospect and waste time wondering what it all meant
I forget to taste and touch. Too busy while I preach and rush
To enjoy a moment in the sun and all that noise seems to hush
The day I forgot to stop and think was the day I had some fun
Until I rewind the reality tape and press play to watch it come undone
The tale I spin runs with parasites that perforate dripping abcesses
Ravage rats ravenous and infected blood flows through cordial asepsis
Fantasizing of better times while right now passes by.
I close my eyes and kiss the sky and wish that I could fly
Fish for stockpile rhythm and dive bar singing blues
Sizing up and dicing up and slicing up the clues

Sometimes it can be as simple as simple: me and you
Until I **** that too and habits bloom I'm just a fool
Who thinks on wasted talent
The words I write don't render sight so I don't bother myself
A single dent.
My cup has run over wild amok. Belly up. Superfluous in extent
I'm not certain whether to give a **** or pray to God my soul is sent.

RE: :) Wow. My Gawd that is sooo hot. You're really so tlented! Hmu 2 c wat's up. Or better yet txt me #Spent xoxo
Until next time
Let me kno wat u ment.

...
Star Girl Apr 2014
Whenever I see the sun beams break through the clouds and falling through my window, I think of love and happiness. I think of a picnic far away in a sunflower field that never seems to end. I imagine the feeling of running down a three-leaf clover lined path, that flourishes with the best of luck and never ends. I miss swinging on a tire swing during weather like this, as I did in my childhood. My mind digs for memories and people that I miss and love. I want them back, but I am not sad. The sun brings life into my dark room, bouncing off my walls and reflecting off of mirrors and glass surfaces. The sun, I have learned, brings happiness in its purest essence to all those who let it perforate them. Sunshine is a gift, a very happy gift. I wish I could capture this beautiful day and this beautiful sun in a mason jar. I would keep it forever; whenever things seemed most certainly dark, or the sun never seemed to shine, I would grab my jar of sunshine and allow it to thrive through me and make me happy. Beautiful days like this make me feel truly happy.
The Darkness Nov 2014
The cold mouth of the bottle
never told me it loved me,
but, it never told me it hated me neither.
It never spouted a geyser of derision
designed to drown my heart,
and brow beat me into submission.
It  never caressed my cheek,
a second before trying to scratch out my eyes.
It never called the lone declaration of my affection
a pack of halfassed lies.
It might **** me one day,
suffocate my brain, and perforate my liver...
But, the bottle never told me it loved me,
before trying to destroy me.
"Drink me ***!"
Captain Scaggs
A delicate fabric
Developing into me
Pursuing promises of light
As my lungs begin to  perforate
A rebel moon uninvited
Spitting pieces of ropes into the wasted clouds
I become frantic with the thought of relapse
With reflections of vulnerability
Starless twisting my departure
Boiling my foundations as the ashes bleed
The remorse of my demise seeping out my integrity
The delight of it all -
rain splattering skin
like tiny knives,
back of my hair
a throng of wet
sinewy stems
plastered to my neck.

I scoff blueberry
after blueberry,
perforate each
little indigo shell,
let the taste
swell as an ulcer
at the front of my tongue.

Snow becomes slush -
graphite clumps
sliced through by bicycles,
footprints of strangers overlap,
undulate as ECG lines
down alleyways,
into dimly-lit side-streets.

A couple kiss,
their lips
a strange pinky knot
of flesh and breath
outside a bar
bunged with get lucky
guys from across the bridge.

Find a bench,
allow the metallic cold
seep into my hands
like a morphine injection,
count every dull grey building,
tighten my scarf
a bit more, a bit more.
Written: October 2014.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, and another that is part of my ongoing city series. This piece regards a man walking through the Tribeca area of Manhattan, New York, and ends up sitting on a bench in Hudson River Park, at the very end of Watts St. I feel this is one of my strongest pieces for the series so far. The first line is partially inspired by the first line of Sylvia Plath's poem 'Cut.' Feedback welcome.
Isabel Lights Dec 2014
I want to see you in the star-scapes and nightfall
But weaved into my daydreams is all where you reside
Would it be too much to ask, if you were to be my cartographer,
For the guidelines to your heart only seem to perforate my soul
I want to see you in the wilderness, desolate and robust,
I want to see you take me there.
I want to see you, nothing short of happy
Void of all the things that cast you downward
I’d give you the world; I don’t have to see it back,
Only as long as the distance between us is all but time,
For the logical perimeters of restriction would uphold,
It is merely restricting the sublime from resonating within you,
For far too long.
I spent a good 5 minutes daydreaming and this describes what I felt :)
Cinzia Jun 2017
Awake! this is life
Be not ungrateful for its toll
Cultivate an aura of contentment
Delve deeply for that thing they call a soul

Examine all your motives and intentions
Fling aside delusion in your path
Glimpse through tiny keyhole possibility
Harness all resistance with your wrath

Imitate great ones who came before you
Jeopard not the love within your heart
Karma cannot limit your ability to
Lacerate each falsehood all apart

Mingle with the angels out among us
Never rest until you need the sleep
Obviate the demons which cling to us
Perforate what makes you feel cheap

Querulous we walk the road to happy
Rutted as it is with mire and muck
Spare your energies and sweet entreaties
To walking ghosts who just don't give a ****

Upend all ideas that forestall you
Vindicate what you know to be true
Windmills of illusion won't enthrall you
Xcept when you opt to allow them to

Yesterday may blind us with her memory
Zelos might appreciate our idolatry
Trying my hand at an abecedarian. Thanks for the idea, Kevin J Taylor!
SCHEDAR Sep 2022
My soul has lift off,
the slow tempo of
my breath suddenly
boundless

My drums perforate
surrounded by a
universal register of
beats and measures
rolled into a mysterious,
melodic constellation

Dashing across the board
my fingers feverishly frisk
for the keys
of
Mozart, Prokofiev,
Rachmaninoff

With hammers and strings
I scale the sounds
of perfection
while properly perched
in front of
Grandma's Pianola
pretending to be
composed
Childhood memories of my Grandmother's player piano
Marion Forrest Feb 2010
Mother of my world, we faced so much pain,
The fear from his voice Just drove you insane.
He made you frail, in everyday life,
You were his trophy and not his kind wife.
He would come home drunk, perforate your ear,
Mother I held you and wiped your last tear.
From the street, to see you, lay on a bed,
You ended your life; I thought you were dead.
But God shone over, as you done no wrong,
He gave us each other, he made us strong.
You tried to protect me; you have no shame,
The pain became numb, father was to blame.
You found a new life, a good man to love,
I thank every night to God up above.
Poetic T Apr 2018
We are in a abundance of  fluidic obscurity.
    Tidal forces collect the stones of creation
                     weaving them upon the shores
                                             of static boulders.

Melodic in there rhythmic causality.
        Caught in the gravitational flow
     within the onyx oceans of forever.
There are ripples in the static, migrating.

Luminous moments breath below
               the murkiness stirring life.
                   Where a crest of nihility
washes many away, but life lingers.

Like fireflies they perforate the tides
of eternity, breathing for moments
               before expelling there beauty,
to once again create elegance in a sea of darkness.
The universe as if it were the sea
neth jones Jul 2021
a stranger to me
        - medically -
you disassemble me :
        i'm clasped kindly to the spot

with a hectic burst of flushing warmth
         my vision smudges
         my ears stopper
         my fingertips swell away their prints smooth
         and my tongue becomes
         a stunned obstacle of brawn

a blood blush has discharged
         and thorough throughout my system
         you resound ;
         a booming pulse blooming rabidly
         salivating to the tune
         of a detained ******* savagery

a nature to express how sick you unmake me
my nasal passages clear
your mere radiating visit
           has left me merry-go-maddened with pep
using lines from previous poems ; 'Perforate' and '...thread...'.
Poetic T Sep 2014
You shot your mouth off
Emotional bullets,
Rapid fire,
Trying to
Crack,
Puncture,
Perforate,
My barriers, but they stay
Strong
I will withstand this
Still will I stand straight,
When you have
Exhausted,
Emptied,
Depleted,
When your vocal shells
Hit upon the floor,
I withstood you onslaught
The battle field littered
With false words
Meant to harm
Image,
Confidence,
Self,
But this was a battle
And I shut the door,
The war was over before
I'd let it go any further,
I was stronger this day, and now I move on.
shåi Aug 2013
your nacreous  eyes
deep luscious blue as ever
they calm me
like the calm in a hurricane

they perforate into my soul
i cannot resist
a warble escapes my l i p s

when you look at me
with those iridescent eyes
my heart does pirouettes
i break into a form of e cs t a c y

i cannot hold no longer
i am in need of your k  i  s   s

(b.d.s.)
Valerie Jan 2018
whose name made you drink enough to forget your own?

why are you slurring, stumbling, shivering, shaking,

your mouth a spillage of magenta and fuschia,

hands slung over your best friends as they steady you into a car,

a cab they've called in a flurry of messy text messages and laughs,

joking about how drunk they've gotten to make sure his name

never perforate itself in your mind again.

you thought the two (or eight) shots you down,

in flimsy, rough, swallows of gasoline and heartbreak

will bury him in a box underneath the dirt floor of your mind

but his nomenclature refuse to transform from 'love' to 'stranger'.

he stays, he stays, he stays

unlike his form, his body, his soul,

and in the vagaries of life,

we lose and we lost,

because a girl's love changes,

like the seasons,

and we can heal,

we can break,

but we'll be okay,

once again.
PYG's Whisper Apr 2019
I’ve been needing your lies
I’ve been craving your poison
I’ve been missing your demons
I’ve been loving your hater
While I was playing with death
While it was ******* me upside down
While I was freezing face to hell
I’ve been moaning your name
When my hands were trembling
When my soul was jumping
When my veins were twisting
I howled your April’s farewell
Once Azrael was invited
And the sky was open
Then my mind got naked
Your shadow was my only Savior
My voice was resonating
But from your ears was forbidden
My snow capped depth was on the summit of its alp
Pleading you to be its shield
That’s when you threw it into a dark swamp
Claiming that you were lost in a blinded place
Everything was mute and your bones were broke
But I saw you secretly radiating in a crystal ball
You thought I’m nowhere nearer
Was it amusing to fool a downcast lifer?
You were pushing my destiny to its sharp ending chapter
Below the belts freedom was dedicated to a shrewd sinner
Meanwhile I’ve been taken to where nothing left to catch
Failures over the time of my rotten life have built my forgotten grave
Gloomy butterflies surrounded my sick grove
No flowers to bloom no hope to ****
No words to draw no feelings to touch
No time to rush no remorse to scratch
The door of paradise was barely visible
But the clouds drove me to a fiery jungle
I begged life to be my sucker
One last elegiac parting with winter
But death was an invincible fighter
Loneliness was feeding my blur future
Chiselling out my anxiety within four blank walls
Then stirred up a wild storm of toxic fears
Moving on was the synonym of stuck in a rut
A sterile heart gave up on its darned patience
Charcoaled love erased its existence
Dry tears chained to these anorexic cheeks
You shutdown the light you once heated up
Now I’m sober yet drunk on my coma
Trying to perforate your karma
While cleaning up my ugly Fantasia.
Where I was your moon and you were my star
As a poet, I believe that my voice needs to be heard and my experiences need to be written, I used to write about the **** THEY went through, I used to care about THEM, I used to put THEM first and me last, I used to spend endless sleepless nights trying to comfort THEM, write for THEM, slam for THEM. but I never listened to myself, I never dared to say no to THEM in order to protect ME, that's why and how I ended up stuck in a wild war between LIFE AND DEATH. Where only ME left behind while THEY all escaped and enjoyed their victory 'cause simply they ****** all my energy and I wasn't a needy anymore. So I got lost and anxiety took advantage of me.
Many fans betrayed me, and made up stories about me just ‘because I wasn’t available to hear THEIR stories, to wipe THEIR tears and to be THEIR voice of hope, too many FAKE FRIENDS AND LOVERS finally got caught up and THEY shamelessly exposed their true nature and loneliness kept me company.
This poem is all about ME, is all about my battle with my illness last year, it was a result of many years of ups and down, many years of sadness, mental breakdown and depression, nothing is clear nothing is the same anymore and I don't know where am I going from here, the only reality that I can't cover up or deny is the fact that I’m still alive… miraculously..
I don't have anything else to say, I’ll let my poem talk about my biggest disappointments...
Thanks for everyone who still loves and supports PYG's Whisper, I came back 'cause of your prayers and yearnings, thanks for everything.
I can’t promise that I’ll come back the same, a part of me is already dead but I’ll let my pen mess with all the criminals who killed my vibe.
-PYG's Whisper
Mishka Jul 2014
I don't think I've ever witnessed horror to this extent
Body parts are flying like shooting stars and it looks like people are wishing on them
Relaxing with family members watching the bombs rain down
as screams perforate the sky like the rip of paper

My dreams of a beautiful future have been ruined, not beautifully, not like some artefact I will later go photograph
This is horror
This is hope, hope in the leaders of the world, hope in the humanity of humanity,
destroyed
I will never look at myself the same
Or my friends
or my family
As we sit back watching human beings having their skin peeled off of them
There's nothing we can do
No petition will strike the hearts of the US Senate
Our ancestors made a mistake giving them so much power

Forcing people to change their loyalties in front of the world
As a child I read 1984 and laughed at what Orwell thought the world would become
I have since realised that reality is worse

This is not a downward spiral
No one has become nauseous enough to realise what is going on
This is a voluntary jump, a suicide mission we have set out for ourselves without knowing it

There are people in Palestine who have nowhere to run
I don't even know what that feels like
To have nowhere to go for shelter

To look death in the face and scream
or sigh

— The End —