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Levi Kips Feb 2018
Natural disasters flow like Water.
Either naturally or what we consider to be natural like water from a faucet.
The nature behind the definition natural used to be so concrete like telling the difference between an earthquake and thunder but lately it bends so flexible that now
it’s like telling the difference between a 6 and a 9.
I realized my definition and vocabulary was about to be tested when I saw him.
Nothing about our encounter was natural except for our reactions.
Normally we're supposed to look at them Aurora Borealis
like their presence is a gift from God but naturally,
I look at him like a rooted tree looks at a thunderstorm while he,
He looks at me the same way a tsunami looks at a beach house.
I'm just trying to survive while he.......  
I'm trying still to decide what he wanted.
Was he trying to do what he sees as natural now or
was he trying to protect and serve God,
The Earth,
His Life.  
Either way, I know how natural disaster stories end and
I don't want to end up like Louisiana to Katrina,
like Haiti to the earthquake,
like Eric Garner to the NYPD.
That word natural is so abused and misused,
the word they really mean is normal.
It is normal for all kings to get taken down,
like King Charles the 1st,
like King Richard the 1st,
like African Kingdoms,
like Rodney King,
like Martin Luther King.
I want to keep having natural endings and not normal ones,
I rather want the debate of
"was that sound a heartbreak or an earthquake" and not
" was that the sound thunder or another black body hitting concrete".
In today's society, natural and normal trade blows and dance around each other so much
we ignore the chaos their tornado creates.
I can very much so be another victim of the normal slash new natural tornado
and hang my name up in the clouds next to a rip hashtag
and have it blow away the next day.
Instead, I hand over my genetic recipe to the elemental force
and hope that it doesn't return to the melanin back to the earth.
Normally the statistics aren't in my favor
nor is it in the favor for black bodies but today
nature rooted for me,
it didn't promise me a forever, but it helped me weather this storm.
Weather if you are looking at this situation as a 6 or a 9.
This shouldn't be the new normal.
Today I survive, and hopefully,
There will be a nature to help others do so too.
This is about when I was pulled over on a bike around the corner from home
Francie Lynch Nov 2016
They pulled a *****
With Trump's *******...
I mean Election.
I always mess up consonants.
Bend over, but don't be too ******* yourself. :)
Zenlcaudell Jan 21
Pulled away for the day
The things I saw
While you lead me away
A bright new land
Is what you claimed
You wanted destruction
For the human race
Can I laugh at you now that it’s over.
Tyler Matthew Sep 2018
I can hear her singing,
that's how I know she's home.
'Hotel California' to her
man who's on the phone.
But when he hangs it up
she'll be all alone,
sitting pretty, feeling lonely,
drawing little pictures of him.

And she doesn't know it,
but I get lonely, too.
Each time I do I hide myself
inside and drink her perfume.
Then after it's all gone
I paint my ceiling blue,
light another cigarette and
sit there with the curtains pulled.

You knew it, I knew it,
I blew it all in front of you.

Don't do it. I'll do it.
Just ***** it up like I do.

It's true, it is true that
it's you, O how I wish I knew.

Light another cigarette and
sit behind these curtains, blue.
Written to the rhythm of "Sixteen Saltines" by Jack White.
Brayan Dec 2018
'On my mind youll never be forgotten...'
'Tis’ as if we're The back seat; strapped in, just like you...
I must've blinked twice already, hindsight I shouldn't've been influenced.. Though; it was as if we'd never return. Almost like trust..
1999-12-20 / April 4 2017

Susanna K.

In memory of a beloved friend.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
It's delight which flows without measure
from the assurance that through every circumstance
and detail of my life God is ever beckoning and drawing me
into deeper intimacy with Himself, ever whispering to my heart,
“Come closer still.”

Joy in the midst of devastating loss, crushing disappointment,
unbearable pain or scourging heartache is about the discovery of
treasure so precious and rare that it never could have been found
had we not been forced to walk a path of affliction in the desert.

It's in the isolation and brutality of the wild that we come to know Him
in ways that transcend the span of human imagining or desiring,
and all the songs and all the poems and all the masterpieces
taken together cannot capture an estimable description
of the pleasures that might be unearthed there.

There lies before us in our afflictions a vast and wondrous beauty
yet undisclosed behind the fog, and like a theatrical curtain
slowly pulled back to reveal a perfectly set stage
He will sublimely unveil it in His own directed time.

And we shall be elated at the view,
for it's against a backdrop of struggle and darkness
that the best and most moving of stories have always unfolded.

Maybe nothing truly beautiful can ever take form on earth
without the shroud of mystery and brokenness surrounding it—
at least not the kind of beauty that takes our breath away
and leaves us yearning to possess it.
~~~

"You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy
in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."  
~ Psalm 16:11

"O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and Your glory. Because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You. I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You. On my bed I remember You; I think of You through the watches of the night. Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me."  
~ Psalm 63:1-8

"It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn Your decrees. The law from Your mouth is more precious to me than thousands of pieces of silver and gold."  
~ Psalm 119:71-72

"'Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth...'"
~ Hosea 2:14-15
Steven Oct 2018
What I visioned was warmed steel winds
brilliant soft glow
crystal Autumn light at the center of the heart
the rush of slow rains pulled away from its quartz source
to let dance a sacred stray
away from the lucent womb
born herself to those turned monuments in our memory
an echo
the innocent born from the energy of a new Spring  
quenched of a natural thirst
allowing a climb
like ascending fire dust from logs spent in the night
Electric light.

What I found was that glow
but distant
the Autumn light absent its blare
The innocent echo dulled
because it was the idea that was the love affair
not Electric
but Citrine light
like deserts 
magnetic to view yet ambitious to live
The quite crescent of ocean
absent the meld of sun salt height  - A liquid soar
or once dreamed green
turned November meadow
the felled allure of Sycamore.
Evelyn Genao May 2018
"It's okay."

I can still feel it.
The way your lips touched mine.
Without meaning.
Without feelings.
I missed them.
Your kisses.
Your attention.

My heart.

I saw it.
The way your eyes drifted to others.
Never straying to mine.
Never filled with the same spark.
Always dull.
Lifeless.
Loveless.

It hurts.

You would say it.
Those three words.
Not to me.
Never to me.
To the others.
They always got your love.
I got your hate.
Your anger.
Always.

You don’t have to love me.”

You gave me orders.
Never to be near you.
Never to hold hands.
Not in public.
We did not know each other.
They would get the wrong idea.
“We are cousins,” You would say.
You were embarrassed.
To be seen.
With me.

I can’t.

I was your puppet.
You pulled the strings.
And I obeyed your commands.
You never loved.
Not me.
Never me.
I was your toy.
Something you could throw away.

Take it.

It’s all a game.
Of feelings.
Of pain.
Of love.
Of hate.
You are the king.
I’m your ****.
Just a piece on your board.

I’m done.

I loved you.
More than anything.
I let you use me.
Hurt me.
If I got to be with you.
Nothing else mattered.
You didn’t feel the same.

No one ever does.”
I saw a prompt and this poem came to mind. I hope you love it and be sure to comment what you think. Check out my other works!!
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
The first thing he saw early this morning
When he pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of his garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did his screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi
Star BG Apr 19
Just got my tooth pulled
They called him Mister Sixteen
I lost an old friend

*

Tooth had to come out
Sir Sixteen left to dentists
hands I knew it well

  *

I went to dentist
tooth by pain screamed let me out
Its name was Sixteen

*

Bye Bye to my tooth
dentist was his ticket out
His chatter is gone
I had my tooth pulled yesterday. I lived through it to write another day. LOL  This is the first group of poems written when I woke up. Thank goodness for Codeine. Invented for peace
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
There lies before us in our afflictions a vast and wondrous beauty
yet undisclosed behind the fog, and like a theatrical curtain
slowly pulled back to reveal a perfectly set stage
God will sublimely unveil it in His own directed time.

And we shall be elated at the view,
for it's against a backdrop of struggle and darkness
that the best and most moving of stories have always unfolded.

Maybe nothing truly beautiful can ever take form on earth
without the shroud of mystery and brokenness surrounding it—
at least not the kind of beauty that takes our breath away
and leaves us yearning to possess it.
"'Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth...'"  
~ Hosea 2:14-15
SerenaDuru Aug 2018
I don't want any of these people
And I don't want their cheap thrills
Their need for a love that only lasts til dawn
Lies shield their hearts
And inhibition disallows anyone to see their true selves
The selves they hate and abuse

I have waited for you since our last lifetime
And I'm so tired of waiting
Every night I go out to meet people
My heart sinks with the absence of you
And I sink with depression into emotions I need to forget

I have bought their cheap thrills
And I remain unsatisfied with the results
I lost strength as the liquor stupefied me
And pulled me to a person to whom only saw a short term pleasure


I don't want to settle or second guess
I want you
I want to meet you
I want to know you
And to love you
I want to experience with you
And reminisce with you
And I want to die with you and wait all over again
Purcy Flaherty Jul 2017
I was just in the closet July 1988
Not a word was said; 'sept a couple of whispers and an obvious desire to ****!
Mop buckets, the heat and the stink of her *****,
Harsh staggered breaths tell the tale;
Petulant hands and harsh fingers.
Nickers and pants half pulled down,
Hard truths pushing through,
I had to **** her from behind,
Very confined, quick, clumsy, ******, release.
We both staggered out;  her mate much older waiting outside, bold as brass, she looks me up and down all tough and barks assertively "i'm next!" and **** I was back in the closet 1988
Two brazen cleaners take the new boy in the closet in 1988 extract from my diary.
Francie Lynch Oct 2018
He's pulled the wool over our eyes,
But there's a thread I can yank;
The fabric will unravel;
We will see again.
veritas Jul 2018
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.

     dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.

the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.

     a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;
drawn, not fired.

frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
     the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.

look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.

but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
     singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
   linger ,over your tongue  ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.

   and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
   and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
   she whispers,
        the renaissance was not painted for you.
look up. and then higher than that.
Sanjali Sep 2018
17
-Hello Love-

Perhaps it’s been a thousand years,
the rivers have shifted so,
the lakes I swam in, have gone dry
the waterfalls though, overflow.
And so it is, that I have wandered back
tugged furiously throughout days
by this rugged tinkling thread
back to this ancient maze.

Most surely it’s been several weeks
the leaves are rough to touch,
the grass withers where I step
but trees don’t ask for much.
And so it is, that I have rambled on
pulled strangely through the haze,
at last I fall under the rays of morn,
My love, I’m home again.
Lost and found
Pagan Paul May 2017
I slip the straps and release the clasp
of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder.
Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as
I wonder if I should get even bolder

because

The jaws of love masquerade
as petals of a flower

so

Did you know
I'll get a *******
if I visit
your front garden

and

Just say if you want me to stop.
We are, after all, in the middle of a shop.
I was attracted when I saw you smile.
As we passed in the frozen food aisle.
Now people are staring though the window.
Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo.
And if your purse metaphor extends to this.
We can go to the Bank for a little kiss

though

I may not be able to afford
nine feather mattresses and a golden pea.
But if you could make do
with a lilo and a marble
then …
You've pulled Princess.

© Pagan Paul (30/05/17)
.
Prequel to Even Poets ***** Up A Date (Mar 31)
The 3rd, Even Poets ***** Up A Night Of ***, to be published at some point.
.
zebra Feb 20
scarlet haught
queen of mirth
dog ****
drooling jewelry red splits
pulled by a chariot  
of six hundred million house cats
dissembling for freaky insertions
of scarlet bud flowers uterine tube

breath of spit
while ballet toes kiss fingers and tongues
glazing thickly tides sweat
bamming greased ****

Christ *****
"once upon a never more"
bi-sexed up
**** twitch glistening holes
drizzle fish
in red tents overturned
for fabulous *******
and angelic *****'s
flirty dance the come **** me  

her throat a never ending squealed gullet
sublime Madonna of Oor
bare thighed and pulpy spread
scissor strokes and stride
wagging tongue for rosy oleo sticks
and **** pastry rectums pulled tight
in lop sided temples of split flesh

another ambulance to the emergency **** ward
in a dreamland of leggy nurses

sacred fig of Freyja
Goddess to **** toys
and pretty pretty who go that way
hocus opus poke and stir
freckle face **** mouth
a lapping menagerie

i gird my ***** and follow her
into a cologned room; of dark rim box butter
***** yelping for
a slow grind in a belly of clams

red and velvet pageant
she nests in the heart
a midwife disturbia
to pregnant lust
being pushed down and worked up
till loosened in thick ****
and black whip afterbirth
like flowers of curves and blood

her banquet; a platter of wet orifice
trilling vibratos ******
and anxious kisses crawling through her mouth
like fallen angels flying
dire sister of knock out *******
pleading goth nuns for lesbian heated
Satan loving veiled Christian crotch
and a thousand delicious gaped
******* **** poundings
and mouth ***** **** plunge

crucifix of wrack and *****
****** and beaten senseless
instructions from the  book of night
of **** and spite
written by
Abrahams primitive nations
arms of the cross she is nailed to
sweet ***** waifs beaten dead
in a tillage of brokenness

mans club
shore of incinerated witches and tortured justice
shut up when your talkin to me
clan of honor
duo troupe
almanac of hell
Troy Feb 2018
All i feel is time passing.
Just Moments ..
Blurred images..
Memories
Of my life..
Where did it go.  
Im Lost in a sea
Of  Turquois dream,
Waiting drowning
In its Color
Hopeless against it's
  Current's,,
I'm constantly being
Pulled against the tide
Swimming to stay alive,,
My mind is not my own.
Like most
My heart ripped and torn.
In my
Moments of  Clarity
I See the beautifully  Cruel
Sculpted hand of God
In everything.
As I drift alone in my turquoise dream
Evelyn Genao Mar 2018
"Please, daddy!"
You were walking so fast.
Too fast for my little feet to keep up.
Was it that easy for you to leave me?

You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped.
You just kept going.
Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me.
I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop.
You didn’t.
You just kept going.
Leaving me behind.
"Please don’t leave me!"

Pain.
I remember it too well.
The heart throbbing pain.
We watched as you left.
Me and mommy.
My eyes were wet.
Hers were dry, cold.
As if she knew this would happen.

I looked into mommy's eyes.
Her brown eyes tangled with lies.
Lying to me for you.
How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long?
Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore?

Since you left, I dreamed of your return.
The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear,
"I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again,
my little Cookie Monster
."
Then I wake up, hoping to see you.
Praying that it wasn’t all a dream.
But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died.

I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face
as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return.
I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life.
You deceived me, you said you would always be there.
You pinky promised.
You broke your promise.
How can I trust you again?

Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or
a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen.

"I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy?
I just need to see your face one last time
."
Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me?

Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.
I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left.
No, you only thought of yourself like you always do.

You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances,
and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care.
Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was.
I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.  

"Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am.
I don't need you anymore
.”

Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
When I was 6, my dad was deported to the Dominican Republic. I remember visiting him in prison before he was booted out of the country. I was only a child then and I don't remember much but the pain is still there. I didn't ever write down my feelings until my English teacher assigned the class a project where we had to write a poem about a struggle that impacted our lives. It was not the best and as the years went by I would add more to it, pouring my heart and soul into it. I think the day presented my poem to the class was the day that I wanted to become a writer. I hope you love this and be sure to comment your thoughts on it. Also, check out my other poems!!
Becca Lansman Nov 2015
When he tells you he is sorry, do not hand him the feast.
Do not make him dinner like he never tore the tablecloth out from under the dishes.

You are not a menu item.

remember that his love is not a reward.
You are not a reward.

You are dinner for one.

Remember how you pulled yourself up on shore. Taught yourself how to breathe again.

You are no longer drowning.

you are the beach, you are the lifeguard, remember how you saved yourself.

Remember to say no.
Say it in the dark, whisper it in his ears, remember your body is not a love letter; it is not a vacation home.

When he says, “ I love you.”
 Do not mistake his lust for affection.

Remember how he ate pieces of your heartbeat one at a time? turned you into a carcass?

Made you believe you were road ****.

Remember how you put yourself back together? Mending each stitch carefully. Embroidering your heartbeat back one lull at a time.

You are still sewing.
You are still making dinner but it is ok.
It is ok to eat dinner by yourself.

It is ok to say no.

Tell him, you only made enough for one tonight.
Do not be the horror,
in this world
-for others.

A  Monster.  . .

The weapon of a mind,
chiseled hard by
alcohol, drugs,
-circumstance.

A  Monster.  . .

Pulled up from the depths
seen by some a marvel,
in the hands they will see

A  Monster.  . .
The ancient Greeks spoke of giants with clawed hands and foot that lived or ruled the earth before the time of humans. Fossils of dinosaurs may explain that but there are true living monsters here and now. You will know them by the works of their hands, the clawed nature of them.
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