"punches" poems
i feel sorry for you
bed
for all the blood
tears
and punches
the shrieks into your pillows
im sorry
bed
for bringing a man there
who you knew would
hurt me
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
I am alive by luck at this point.
I wonder if the gun that will eventually take me has been made.
Whose trigger will bury me.
How many bullets, like a flock of sparrows, will come carry my life to its final bed.
Today, I am alive but there is no law to thank.
If not me, then someone else.
Born into a game of chance we never asked for. Traded diplomas for obituaries. Traded graduation speeches for eulogies. Traded futures for an early grave. Forced to cash in their chips. We don’t want to play anymore.
And this too is eulogy. And this too is prayer. And this too can resurrect the coffin wood back to a tree. Can sing back alive whatever parts of you died with them. Whatever leapt in your throat at yet another headline.
Mourning until you, too, are a thing to mourn.
But we will no longer be martyrs.
We are the rude awakening to politicians who pawned out our safety, who bartered our lives for bribes.
You say “gun reform is not the answer” but all I can see is a bullet rattling like a pinball in an innocent student’s jaw.
You smell like gun smoke and
I can see the AR15 you're holding behind your back and
I guess it's easy to crack jokes about dodging bullets when you're the one firing them.
Give teachers books not bullets:
Kafka isn’t kevlar.
Bronte isn’t bulletproof.
And how sick is it that we must add school shootings to your list of proud american traditions.
Throwing opinions like punches.
How many more have to die before you decide your ego isn’t as important as you think it is?
And I, too, am buried alive
My soggy grave parting its greedy lips.
To you, my bones, when ground into gunpowder and mixed into water, taste like champagne.
My pulse, as thin as an obituary panting beneath sweaty palms, and sure
We are “just kids,”
But you are forgetting we are the next generation
And you autopsy your fists.
Call it reclamatory.
Lately, when asked “how are you?” I respond with a name no longer living.
And who knows if mine will be next
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
All these kids,
They cry,
Scream,
And *****
"I WANT FREEDOM FROM MY PARENTS!"
That simple freedom does not concern me.
I want freedom, but not just from my parents so I can stay out late.
I want freedom,
From my peers,
From my family,
From the government,
And from myself.
I want to be free to walk down the halls,
Hand in hand with a girl,
Who I'm in love with.
I want to be able to do that,
With no fear in my heart.
No worries or names called,
Or punches thrown.
I want that freedom.
I want the freedom to be able to bring a girl home,
And show her to my parents,
And tell her how much I love her,
In front of them.
I want to be able to talk to my mom,
About relationship problems,
About the GIRL who broke my heart,
But I cant.
I want the freedom to marry.
To marry any person I choose,
No matter the gender.
Male,
Or female,
It should not matter.
My happiness,
And the way I spend my life,
Is not something that should be voted on,
By those with half a brain.
I want freedom from myself,
To accept me,
And be who I am,
Without any shame.
But I can't do that,
Unless I have the freedom from others,
To be me,
And be happy with that.
I want the freedom to be gay.
Some may complain,
That the gays are already free,
Too much maybe.
But that is not the case.
We're not persecuted,
But we're not free.
All throughout history there has been movements for freedom.
There was one of religious freedom,
When puritans came to the New World from Britain.
A war was started,
And freedom came out with a victory.
There was one of freedom for slaves,
So that they could live the lives they wanted,
And not have to be owned,
And treated like property,
By another human being.
Once again,
A war was started,
And the slaves were freed.
There was one of freedom for women,
So that women could be the same as men,
Equals.
There were marches,
And protests,
And women rights came out on top.
There was one of freedom for those of color,
So that they can mix,
And mingle,
With the race that whites thought was superior.
There were marches,
And sit ins,
Protests,
And brawls,
But guess who won in the end?
We are working towards freedom of LGBTQ,
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning/queer,
And one way or another,
We will eventually get our freedom.
Look at all these past freedom movements,
There were always two sides to it.
Which side are you on?
Is it the right one?
This is not the land of the free and the home of the brave.
This is the land of the *** ******* cowards,
And the home of the "You can be free, if we allow it."
I think its about time we either lived up to our motto,
Or changed it.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
What's my worth?
Am I worth a second glance?
Till present, from birth
Am I deserving of chance?
What's my value?
Am I worth time spent?
What did I do?
Did I squander the life lent?
What are my virtues?
Do they even shine through?
Do I put them to good use?
Or useless like a pair less shoe?
What defines me?
Is it the words that write?
Or work I do diligently?
Could it be my punches in a fight?
What have I done?
Take your time to think
Did I do it with a loaded gun?
Must've done something; must've missed the link
What am I good for?
Important work or menial labour
Could have I done more?
Achieved alone or together
Do I think differently?
Indulge in fairytale notions
Is it sheer folly?
To believe in magic potions
Am I just silly?
Do I dream too much?
Accept reality
Am I capable of such?
Do I shirk what I carry?
Should I have said no?
Did I delay and tarry?
Have I nothing to show?
Am I wrong to feel?
Is it foolish to want?
When it all is real
Now bearing the brunt
Do I wear you weary?
With my endless stupor
Why can't I bury?
Before we expire
Why do I wallow?
Wading through eye puddles
Should I just burrow?
Deep into these riddles
Why do I falter?
Why can't I heal and rise?
Why do I break and shatter?
How do I stop my eyes?
What is this dense forest?
Must everything be obscure?
Can I not be honest?
Can I not be insecure?
Could I be any more random?
Asking as they come to mind
Have I compromised my decorum?
Have I been blind?
Should I delve even deeper?
May I go on and ask?
Am I worthy of an answer?
Or should I just don my mask?
Gargantuan was my crime
Thick was its girth
Absolution this time?
Of it am I worth?
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
My mom says "frick"
or "fiddlesticks"
even when kids aren't around.
She's holding in
some of that pure, unfiltered rage
each time a plate is dropped
or toe is stubbed.
If only she'd just shout "OH ****
she wouldn't lash out
at grandma or sob uncontrollably later.
Someone once said to me, **** you!"
and I was happy.
It means they won't ****** me in my sleep
because they expressed verbal and not physical rage.
I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself"
because I went home and did just that.
Speaking of pleasure,
the act of *******
burns between 85-250 calories,
improves sleep & your immune system.
Google it.
I've been ******
a realization &/or learning experience
having gone broke without a way to pay rent
resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents.
We can get ****** up.
A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face.
We learn the perils of excess.
In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids.
I learned I never want to experience THAT
uncomfortable feeling again.
Why is **** such a bad word again?
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
This weight on my chest
This feeling of 100 punches to my gut
The pounding of hammers in my head
The feeling of a blade slip through my fingers
The smell of iron in the air as the thick red water drips and flows
All these pains and yet the worst feeling I've felt was the crushing blows of your words echoing in my ears.
Your words weighing heavily on my heart like an Anvil defying physics.
I feel the pressure and it's caving in...
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
It's never goodbye
Always see you later
Though my body is far
My mind is nearer
Than the air you are breathing
I'm with you there sleeping
Always remember
Never forget
The time that we've spent
Together again
Soon we will be
So don't you dare fret
The going gets tough
We've always had it a bit rough
Roll with the punches
And play with cards that are dealt
With a bond such as ours
We will always prevail
Over the hardships and toils
Our blood, it will boil
Tiffs and spats will be had
But, we'll never stay mad
It's been fun and will remain
Joyous all the same
Cuz it's never goodbye
Just see you later
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.
Even though he knows you’re hurting
He can’t do a thing
You really should have known this
When you saw his ring.
Even in the deep heat of summer
You’re out in the cold.
It isn’t like it never happened before
This story is old.
You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
You think of you and him as a couple
That can never be
He has lied to her, why not to you?
This is your reality.
Maybe you decided this is better than
Being all alone.
What you think is love for you is like
The Twilight Zone.
He has a life without you and you knew
There was no ‘us’ or ‘we’.
You’re always the villain, homewrecker;
Innocence is but a memory.
You tell yourself each time he leaves
That is it, no more.
Then change your mind by the time
He closes the door.
Regret for what you do to his life
Is not your problem.
Like me, she has to learn the punches
And learn to roll with them.
You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Scars scattered on my skin,
Pain storming deep within,
Yet, I am proud to say,
I'm a survivor;
Catcalls are a norm,
Yet I don't wish to conform,
To the societal rules,
Because I'm a survivor;
I've seen life at its worst,
I've been through so much that I could burst,
But I won't let them be satisfied,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm alone,
They think I am prone,
To fall into the shadows called depression;
Oh I'm a survivor;
They say I'm a poor child,
They say I'll run away wild;
But I won't do anything as such,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm sugary sweet,
They say I'm a sheep that'll bleat;
Oh they are sadly mistaken,
Because I'm a survivor;
To you, I may look like harmless,
To you, I may look characterless,
But I'm a fighter through and through;
Life's hit me with a lot of punches,
But you must remember, my darling,
I'm a survivor;
I don't know,
Whether I'm high or am I low,
What matters the most is,
I'm a survivor;
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Like an onion, I had layers.
And you peeled me away, one at a time.
One layer off.
You saw my favorites.
The food and drinks I crave for.
The wall paint I wanted for my room.
The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots.
And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat.
One layer off.
You saw my hobbies.
The words I stitched together.
The stars that formed our zodiac sign.
The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball.
And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby.
One layer off.
You saw my dreams.
The plane ticket to Paris.
The thrill of a bungee jump.
The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain.
And the license as a medical physician.
One layer off.
You saw my strengths.
The smile behind the false judgements.
The tears I fought back with pride.
The temperance, confidence, adjustments.
And the self-love I have strongly magnified.
One layer off.
You saw my insecurities.
The missing dimple on my left cheek.
The pimples on my forehead.
The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk.
And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure.
One layer off.
You saw my regrets.
The kisses I could have refused.
The friends I thought were true.
The false assumptions, unmet expectations.
And the trust I gave to the wrong person.
One layer off.
You saw my secrets.
The punches I had to take.
The bruises I covered with my sleeves.
The lies, frustrations, disappointments.
And the brokenness suppressed in my memory.
The last layer, off.
You saw through me.
The anxiousness escalating slowly.
The exposure feeling uneasy.
I felt stripped, explored, unguarded.
And in my nakedness - you had to choose:
To love or to leave me,
For who I really am.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
The oxygen secreted from the walnut tree,
the snap-pole green beans growing
up the side of the rusty garden fence, and
bags of aluminum cans stored in the shed
with the old cash registers from the antique store.
These are the golden frames caught and
edited onto organic film, etched into grey matter,
projected from a foggy lens onto reflective marble.
We abandoned the clubhouse because of spiders;
they took the place for themselves after a storm.
Our new abode was the patch of grass between the
walnut tree and the fence in the back corner of the yard;
shady, rough terrain from fallen walnuts, and
the grass always had a slight dew in places.
"The place where the snakes live" is what we called it
when we were sprouts; now we could catch them in both hands.
One night, the wind blew over the shed doors;
flimsy, sliding rail, aluminum thing.
We slinked in and got to play with the old adding machines,
foreign tools, jars full of door hinges, and
rusty hand-crank egg beaters.
Eventually, the roof of the shed collected so many years
of twigs, walnut husks, and foliage fallen that
tiny trees began to pop their heads up from the clutter.
Crickets underneath the gutter guards-
two types; the black singers and the
ones you have to dig for that will draw blood
if they get a hold of one of your fingers.
Sometimes, if bravery was roused and boiling,
we would drift closer to the railroad tracks
in attempts to catch yellow jackets, or even hornets.
One popped their stinger into the back of my neck.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.
She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.
When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.
And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the rich
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
To see the poor
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;
Nobody really knows how to make love last.
So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.
And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.
Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.
I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."
And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.
But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.
And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin
But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.
You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.
To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
it's been a day
since we last let our love seep through,
since you held me close
in that moment, now long gone.
then you shoved me away
once you'd had enough
of my then-green heart;
it's been a day.
your punches and kicks
have turned my heart black;
i will no longer feel.
i won't let myself.
"that didn't count,"
your worried soul insisted
never venturing beyond
your delicate bubble.
go after her then.
Leave me here,
a sinful
nothing.
go after her then.
go be
your father's
son.
love
is simply too elusive.
so you may as well
get comfortable.
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 3:02 AM UTC
Written by Diana Garcia
My brain waves are like a storm
I wish i could sit in silence
I wish i wasnt so ******* torn
I tried to understand you but whats the use
it's my turn to talk but will you listen?
When you look at me what do you see
Your daughter, your sister or am I the punching bag that youve been missin'?
let me show you the scars you gave me
those wonderful gifts
that keep me up at night
the reoccurring hate
those angry tears.
All the times i went hungry
cause i refused to come home for years.
Over and over again i was told.
Theres nobody to blame other than myself.
YES! cause it is I who but my well being up on the shelf.
Ive checked out, to this i do admit.
I am numb and I simply exist.
How can I love, hate, or any of those words in the adjective list
when all I know is how to roll with the punches, how to roll with waves in the stormy ocean with all these god **** dusty emotions..
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
The other night
I spent all of my tears & paid all my prayers,
I had hoped it would end it all.
My pillows
cashed in the huge streaming check
from every drop my eyes spilled.
My blanket held me down
while both thought took turns
throwing hard punches & kicks
at every square-inch on my body.
Then
my bones crunched
with every attempt
to fully drain the hope-
-ful air in my lungs.
I could only lay there.
Twitching out breathless cries,
rubbing blood out of my eyes
& taking it all in for the whole night.
The following day
I brought these thugs to work
but no one else seemed to notice.
My doctor tried to numb me with pills,
& I must admit
although they did work at giving it all the cold shoulder,
it didn't take long
before I struggled to use my shoulder
With their knives & spears steaked into my skin.
Every night now, I sleep to their stories
& their bullying,
eyes-wide,
cut-throat,
focused on breathing all night.
I thought I could fake my way through it all
but now
these noices have started making sense
& I
don't know why I'm breathing anymore.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
What I'm imagining isn't considered pretty
You don't want to know where you're sitting
What I'm imagining isn't considered pleasant
We're inappropriately using a pheasant
What I'm imagining doesn't go with God
And is laughed at because it's odd
Into my life they peer
Trying to insert fear
My owl head on a swivel
My rabbit ears perked
When people don't act civil
And decency is shirked
I needed answers
For my cancer
I find them in love and pain
They both seem the same
I begin to view the rain
As a type of gain
Everyone knows love's scorn
Which leaves me torn
I can't help but feel my situation differs
Something about the rejection seems stiffer
So I become a shapeshifter
To avoid the hate gifters
To avoid bearing the shame
Of being called names
I know other people have it worse
Sometimes that feels like a curse
I can't gauge the importance of major events
In my life
I don't know whether to think they're intense
Or just right
Maybe I'm just being dramatic
But these instances aren't sporadic
When those that I love
Push and shove
I start to wonder if I'm broken or stained
Until I realize we're all burnt by love's flames
We all have a path to travel
And they're all made of gravel
Our feet become sore
Which affects our core
We find people below us on the totem pole
To know how it feels to treat someone cold
For when our enthusiasm for love has faded
It's easy to become jaded
There are things we're ashamed of
That morph us into something unrecognizable
In which we should be truly ashamed
In the mirror we look the same
But our actions are toxic
We become radioactive
We see where our stock sits
And become merely reactive
And it's hard to find grace
After being punched in the face
But one must remember punches come in all forms
And we must not punch back to survive the storm
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
I'm the morning whisper that punches you in the gut
the winning lottery ticket that you didn't buy
an inconvenience with impeccable timing
the drinks you spill on nameless lovers
i'm the giggle when a dog sniffs your hand
i'm a naked water fight in January for no reason
i'm cold pillows shaped like a former lover
your favorite t-shirt when it's lost
and found
the drip drip in the sink when you wanna sleep
the creepy crawlers you can't shake
the colorful wrapper with nothing inside
a no vacancy sign at the end of the road
your vulnerability when you're most tender
i'll call you names when you're not looking
look at you funny when you're not listening
i'm the sense that doesn't make,
the only sense there is
i'm your senses when you want to shut me out
the wrong L-word at just the right time
i'm your second chance when you need a third
the maybe, when you really wanted a yes
i'm what feels your pain
the broken promise that brings you more-
pain
what turns the tide when you're not looking
i'm a moonlit midnight swim
i'm sometimes butt-naked
your favorite shade of lipstick
i am your guardian angel
the absence you hold
i'm the scenic route after a bump in the road
the sunset drive that saves your soul
i'm the texture of wet sand between your toes
the burn in every tear you've cried
i'm the vintage dresser you found on a rainy day
the song you hate, stuck on repeat
i count the palm trees when you're not looking
i forget lovers lost and found
i am the one who messes up your hair,
just to dry your tears
i am the vault of all your deepest darkest secrets
always inconvenient and never around
i'm laughter when you least expect it
the 4 am call you don't wanna take
i'm the mirror that sells you lies
the denim shorts that makes your **** look really cute
i'm the cherry (on your wedding dress)
a joyride and a swing-set all in one
i'm what turns you on
what turns you away
i'm your throne
your downfall
your ecstatic,
uplifting
wonderful
life.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
The first day I saw you, I knew that you were something else
A soul damaged by what the world had brought
I knew that you were just looking for a friend
Maybe a little something more
That day our teacher put us together, all of it changed
While the others in the pact worked off the act
We talked to each other like we have been there for long
You showed me the pain you felt
While I showed you that things will be alright
Every smile on your face
Every beam of light in your eyes
I miss those days where you were almost mine
I still remember all those long nights, where we talked on and on
I still remember the reds on your cheeks
From every moment I told the truth
I still remember trying to stand by your side, just wanting to let you know
I still remember waiting to see you each day
And feeling wasted when you would not show
Just one time I wanted to hear to say my name
I still remember how I was falling for you
We stayed friends for a while
I respected your wishes to stay that way
You were worried that you would loose my faith
When really it slowly grew
Just because I knew it was you
We grew closer each day
Our hearts still to the same beat
I thought this was something that could never go away
I made you a member of my growing empire
Everything was about to become part of legend
That was in till I tried to add one more
I still remember all those long nights, where we talked on and on
I still remember the reds on your cheeks
From every moment I told the truth
I still remember trying to stand by your side, just wanting to let you know
I still remember waiting to see you each day
And feeling wasted when you would not show
Just one time I wanted to hear to say my name
I wanted to make you mine
I still remember our first fight
I still remember seeing you cry
But I wanted you to know
I still remember how I was falling for you
When he came around we were falling apart
I felt he was an incoming danger
You thought that it was a lie
You stood by his side
I knew that he was trouble all along
But you wouldn't listen to a word I had to say
I still remember waiting for those long talks at night
I still remember regretting not warning you
Of the coming future that I saw
I still remember watching the lights in your eyes fade away
I still remember feeling the anger you held
Each and every time we met
I still tried to be there for you
But that devil burned everything we had
We both stayed friends with him
Then his real shades of black shown right through
I wanted to end his life
When I heard that he was throwing punches
They all stood trying to protect him
When all along I was trying to keep from others going through what we did
I guess its too late to even do that
I still remember all those long nights, where we talked on and on
I still remember the reds on your cheeks
From every moment I told the truth
I still remember trying to stand by your side, just wanting to let you know
I still remember waiting to see you each day
And feeling wasted when you would not show
Just one time I wanted to hear to say my name
My Dear Sunset Rose
Please just hear me say this
I am sorry for what I have done
I just wanted to keep you safe from harm
Just please remember this
I still remember how I was in love with you
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 8:33 PM UTC
i'm broken and you're stolen,
so who do i run to?
you're not here for me,
you're not even here for you.
it used to be just you and i,
in the pulsing headlights,
but really it's just you just you,
and i'm doing anything just to stay alive.
do you see how this goes?
don't you know i treated you like a prose?
your rank was so high in the depths of my mind,
but you blew it all away,
crashing the crown with the times.
now i'm picking up the pieces,
and my kingdom says i'm blind,
but, my lovely lavender queen,
your punches are so kind.
i'm letting you go and you're doing the same,
but it hurts so much more when you pull me in again.
forever lasts a lifetime, right?
wrong, you whisper as you put up a fight,
to keep me to beat me to beg me to stay,
ahh, yes,
the presbyopia of love is leading us astray.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
When you turn a blind eye
I know you still see
it just means its ok
what he's doing to me
You think of yourself
and what you have to lose
every time he comes home
stinking of *****
Turning your back
gives the ok to do
whatever to me
so he don't do it to you
I hope that its worth it
all the **** that you'd lose
to you let me your son
become bruised and abused
You dont hear the screams
or the cries in the night
or the slaps and the punches
when I put up a fight
But don't worry about me
cos I died long ago
just forgot to lie down
so that no one would know
There's nowhere I can run
and nowhere I can hide
When folks tried to help
you just stood there and lied
Well lie about this
when this poem gets read
the truth will come out
they'll know why I'm dead
They'll know that you knew
and you turned a blind eye
right up to the day
I decided to die
For the longest time now
I've been dead inside
well enough of this ****
I got nothing to hide
I was only a kid
that was destined to lose
so his ***** of a mom
got her smokes and her *****
And her **** of a boyfriend
that twisted old ****
got his pleasure from kids
or as he called me her "runt"
You should know when you read this
fore the razor bit down
that I emailed this poem
to the papers in town
I hope that you find me
and it fills you with pride
try and turn a blind eye
now you've nowhere to hide
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
Megan
my partner in crime
my bumble bee twin
my best friend
Best friends since second grade
that's.... what 15 years now? 16?
Sleepovers at eachothers homes
Pixie stick highs and slushy brain freezes
Trips to my grandmother's,
for a Harry Potter Marathon
Rocking out to Halestorm
Daughters of Darkness through and through
Foil art doodling and reading through the night
Did I mention the trip to Walmart?
ten at night just for a loaf of bread?
Screaming at eachother, throwing punches
Calling names so bad tears start to form
Saying we're through we're done mo more friendship
two minutes later laughing stupidly together
Our favorite place, Weedamo woods,
High Rock, queens of the world
I visit those memories in my dreams
I miss my soul sister my best friend for life
I miss being able to call you up and yell
*"YO ***** come get me I need to talk."*
You're still my bestie and you always will b
This separation don't forget is only temporary.
I'll move down there soon
and together we can rec havoc once more
until then please don't forget me
I know I haven't forgotten you.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
Death doesn't discriminate
It doesn't see black or blue
But it sure as hell leaves a bruise.
Its punches and beatings repeating
On the news each evening
Until we're left bleeding,
Crying and pleading
For this to stop
Because this "news" is starting to get old.
Death is never satisfied;
It whispers its lies
That It is the answer to all your problems,
That your thirst for vengeance will subside
If you claim just one victim.
And when the blood is poured out
And as death sips its red ***
We are left awake in its wake
With a ticker-tape parade
Because of one vigilante's charades
of marching to the beat of his own drum.
But let us at least take note of that
before we vilify an entire people group
And start acting brash based on looks
whether it's skin color or uniform.
Death shows no discrimination, so neither should life
My life or your life; our lives are the life blood of this nation
So let's **** out discrimination
lest we bleed out from prejudiced incrimination.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
Island can't stop sliding
even when dull pencils
stuck in sand push back
strong, even when your
toes are curling inward
and holding on tight
The sunburn highway is
crowded today and we're
stuck in traffic, caught
behind a particularly
thick cloud, compounding
beach breezes and midday
shivering beneath towels
With sweaty hands clapping
beat and fast punches, the
overnight foliage blooms
and dies, laughing hard
in the bright room with no doors
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
I enjoy watching my baby boy’s drama
In his room, on his bed among his toys
What a superb imagination
Translated in a form of play...
A battle between the amazing legacy of heroes
Put George Lucas in the house of shame
With his famous Luke Sky walker,
In Star Wars saga
Have Sam Raimi’s done his research well?
In creating Spiderman 3?
With this “genius in the making” young child
Left alone to build his creativity
I am convinced with obvious prediction...
Hollywood superheoes would be doomed..
Here is a 2 year old boy
In Spideman suit, Acting Spiderman,
hitting the Angry bird jet
The jet punches Spiderman back.
Then, Mama is forced to sleep with Spiderman
Forced Mama again, this time to love the Man of Steel
After the gruel some battle,
Jet & Spiderman decided to sleep together
in the pink hammock with Tigger.
The proud child is happy ,
His mission is accomplished!
A bottle of luke warm milk...
Well done! He earns his trophy
Tonight he helps to save the world.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
Blast off the powder keg
One-two with the punches
Rope over your shoulder
Like I wanna reach the summit
Maybe you let loose before
But, honey, I ain't seen it yet
But, baby, I'm scared to like
Messin your perfect face, displacing
Your innocence and makin
Our blankets wet
I said I don't wanna blast
But you got the controller
Got that hold and doin it right
Got my ***** **** my Xbone
On lock on this *** throne
Pop your mouth a minute girl
Base to the tip that ****
Is rocket sauce
Blast off the powder keg
One-two with the punches
Rope over your shoulder
Like I wanna reach the summit
Maybe you let loose before
But, honey, I ain't seen it yet
Maybe this night is the best
Night of my life I lick my
***** off your skin, sleep
Tight, tomorrow I'll breathe
***** breath
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC