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brandon nagley Jun 2015
Her psyche inhaled and imbibed me in
As her universe is like a Monet of modern strokes!!!
I felt an electrical jolt!!!
Ottar Nov 2013
I will not talk about my losses,
where I neither gave up nor tossed
in the towel,
and still did
not come out
a winner, the winner.

Maybe I am not built to compete, I have no grit
no edge to my way,
maybe life is fun,
and we are to just play?

Maybe when you feel sorry for your self, you lose,
your edges now, are broken bits,
that makes deep cuts into your pysche,
a vivisection of the visceral.

Maybe thoughts like this are best bottled up and
tossed in an ocean made up of the tears
that rain down and pour like a wash
filled with
every dream, every goal, every first step of last resort,
I ever had that never left
the space. the gray space above my ears, which heard
my cry and my eyes which see but have no handles to turn off
the faucets that they have become, leaking saline,
while I pretend to understand Einstein.

I write and that makes me a writer and a winner,
what pray tell, are you a winner at...?

I am listening.


©DWE112013
I will finish NanoWriMo tonight or early tomorrow morning Pacific time 50,000 words in 30 days,  third year in a row, you want to tax yourself give it a try, sound easy do it with one hand behind your back, lol.
Atlas shrugged &
shook the brains  
outta Tuesday's baby
about noon
on a Kathmandu doomsday.
the Berkley Tribe,
all the like & kindly rivals
was all in an uprising
over the missing peace
& meanwhile
The Big Evil cavorted on
in the east
of everywhere.

and the They was distorting real reality
to tickle their own fancy
& pawn overpriced romance
novels off on the populace.

nevermind the **** ***
boiling over on the stove top.

foiled again in clover feilds
& the poison only yields
it never stops completely

**** for pysche
forcefield shield
of freedumb fighter
white knight
izard-*******
grand wizards

winner gets the glittery
7 minutes in heaven
with the blister queen
licking scissors
shiva shiver
ego wither &
sizzle in a cigarette flicker
**** a filter
my lungs aren't black enough                                                         
& this isn't the end

filthy tongued
french kiss misery.
    
he's that crass.
& he wants to be a *******, so
Charlie did himself in the chapel&
got laughs when the rats
came to have at the maggots
in his skin
he called em both his children
& loved em unconditionally.

Only figured
he address the issue
by ******* bout
the situation that faced
him & all of us
instead of
setting things in they place.

*have grace
The world is terrifying
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
Movement stirs within womb of thought;
spellbound in fluid sac, fetally curled in
warmth; neither blooming in mind or
heart as host is indecisive; concept mote.

mind blank; confused as...

dubious action causes shame, bearing of
birth unwanted; incestuous violations,
sexually abused as crimson feather blooms
within body too young to blush; thoughts
in flaming anger flushed.

drenched in attrition...

passionate disdain of horrid disgust; in hand,
hanger of mass destruction; a fetal demise
plays against familial distrust, inside mind
combusts; a finger pointed, says, young eyes
beguiled and flamed their lust.

innocence stolen..

in back alley clinic, I extract what is just,
aftertaste, body refuting life flushed;
pysche destroyed, used like someone's toy,
chastity drained from eyes; no longer angelic;
turned cold and coy, ambivalence to destroy.

devious ploys invade anima of woman-child,
turned frigid of emotions; used and abused,
even though given emancipation rights; making
fledgling choices; in voices, now foul-tongued.

still young....

dumbfounded within...

yet, fetally unsprung...
Johnson Oyeniran Sep 2020
-Under the iceberg.

There is something I must get off my chest,
A few nights ago, I browsed the deep web.

Curiosity got the best of me,
I had to do it or Id go crazy.

I saw many things I can not unsee,
Endless horrors still living in my pysche.

I couldve stopped anytime, actually,
But instead, I chose to stay glued to my pc.

Now, even though I witnessed obscene ****,
I dont regret what I did, not one bit.
I bet you forgot about me
Hiding away in the darkest recess
Locked within your deepest imagination
Thinking you were at last safe from me

Well, I am going to come back very soon
When you are least expecting to see me
Attacking within your nightmares this time
Playing new games with your very pysche

So you better keep an eye over your shoulder
For that glimpse of movement in a dark corner
Because I had no intention of staying defeated
When I so many to new souls to play with

No scarred monk will ever get the better of me
The story will start again, deadly that before
Listen to that whisper on the coldest of winds
When I ask once more, *"Do you want to play a game"?
Triman Reborn (He's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccccccccccccckkkkkkk), coming soon to a scream near you.

copyright (Hiding in fear) Chris Smith 2011
Hex Dec 2020
Calmer thoughts, replaced by wars
Resentment only summons more,
Shock that thunders with a crack,
Now, there's no more turning back,

Pebbles scraped, tumble and dive,
Smashing shallow ground from high,
A tragic fate that calls to all,
A pushed, prodded, and triggered fall,

Doom crystalized, serrated and bladed,
A glass knife thrown, from impact, aided,
Adrenaline amplified, enticed mind,
Alas, the influence, an unnatural tide,

Explosive ideations, undesired,
Optimism and life mired,
Pysche turned to marionette,
Taken by subconscious threat,

The gnashing teeth of the spirit,
A silent figure, you already fear it,
Collapse of the soul, defenses beat,
He who pulls the strings, is he who you'll meet.
Written about the call of the void. Article on the phenomenon below.

https://medium.com/persons/call-to-the-void-lappel-du-vide-140accbabef8
ballard midyette Apr 2013
oranges at midnight with a splash of Perrier
spread about your kitchen with the utmost of care
you tell me your adventures and the good things of your day
don't you mind the time; we stay up late as we can dare
wine on your front porch under the pale light of moon
pointing out constellations that dance among the sky
tell me all the meanings of each celestial rune
Polaris shines so brightly in the grey clouds going by
we go into your bedroom with the evening hours fleeing
the morning comes much sooner than either of us would like
massaging all the troubles and worries from your being
sends you gentle slumber and heals my entire pysche
we wake up and we part but we will see each other soon
be it by dusk or by dawn, by the sun or by the moon
I take a pen

I cut my wrists and bleed

My life flows onto the page

Bright red, so terribly wonderful

The mountainous peaks and unending vales of my pysche

Stretch out in a flowing river of ink

Of blood

Of my immortal soul

Of me.

I paint the portrait with hues that can not be seen

And sing with the silent voice of trees that have since been felled.

I pull you in, I take you down

I want you to drown in an ocean of ink and paper,

To become lost in the borderless forests cultivated within my mind

I want to pull you into my skull,

So you can see me how I truly am.

I want you to know how truly alive I am.
Lucy Ignarro May 2016
Show a bully
they've hurt you
and you're handing them the keys
to your pysche
Don't give them such power;
don't give them what they're looking for
Settle the score
Be impenetrable,
No matter how thin
you feel is your skin
Deny them access,
and you'll drive them wild
Smile in the face of pain and
you'll beat them at their own game
Dignity is yours to gain
I've learned this at an early age
They've spewed hatred with their words;
treated me like dirt
They've abused me
They've used me
They've denied me love
They've tried to instil in me ignorance,
like hatred
and blind faith
in authority
and some "God" above
They've abandoned me,
degraded me,
hated me
Bathed me
in their self pity;
always ready
to make me feel guilty
They've toyed
with my self identity
caused me
to lose faith
in myself
and all of humanity
They've left me with scars;
which ive collected in jars
Kept them as a reminder
to never be like
those who've hurt me
and never give in
to the chaos;
the anxiety or the pain
that seemed to constantly
drain my body
my brain
and my airways
There were many times
 I'd say,
 "I no longer feel like living today"
But I managed to always
pick myself up
off the floor
and look forward to
opening up that next door
I held on, for dear life,
to my humanity
and, just barely,
my sanity
for I had too much
pride and will to survive
I would not and will not
let them break me
I am not their decision to make
I am not their life to take
I am not their after dinner
piece of cake
I will no longer be subdued
or controlled
or abused
I will not fold
my heart will never
turn cold
You can break my bones
You can break my skin
you can try to rip me apart
from within
But you'll never ******* win
And so i say
*******
**** them
**** me
and most of all,
**** SOCIETY
the biggest bully
of them all!
One day,
it too,
shall fall
Jenovah Jul 2017
The words flooded the shores of my pysche and poured
through my limbs into my fingers
and with a pen as their vessel, embedded
themselves into the paper.
I broke free of the inner cage I used to
suffocate the best parts of me.
24 ******* years I shut my happiness into
a jar and left it for every one else to hold
in their destructive hands.
How long had I let everyone else decide for me?
How long had I thought my self incapable of holding my self afloat?
I am not useless.
I am not small.
I am not for you or anyone else.
I am me.
I am brave.
I am extroidinary.
I am a warrior with a spirit brighter and bigger then galaxies stretching into oblivion.
I am alive.
I sat at this desk where I wrote the best thing I will ever write for my self.
I reinvented my being and picked my self up from the dirt and I promise to grow
Into the most beautiful garden you will ever see.
For me and only me. My struggles won't be only thing my foundation rests against anymore.
Qaqamba Ngamlana Mar 2013
why
Why did you enter my world and **** up my pysche?
I asked you not to come in.
You lingered at the door with a silent smile
And inside;
Inside, I hoped
Yenson Feb 10
They tell the afflicted mugs
this is People power
that they had figured him out
and made him a puppet
and they the poeple
can now pull strings and ****
him about
and have him dazed and confused
The mugs are totally convinced
we know all his moves
we are ****** his mind and terrorizing
his soul
we are destroying his happiness
and raining on his parade
we are doing his head in
this is pysche warfare
No you are not!
You are just a bunch of misguided mugs
and stale unfulfilled nonentities
fooled, double fooled and then some more
by crass criminals, lowlifes and scums
you are just a bunch of contemptible mugs
doing what contemptible mugs do
but then
you don't come from good stock
are wellbred or from a well heeled background
hahaha hahaha hahaha
ok, come on get madder even more
get back to your pysche warfare
“When your mind is full of assumptions, conclusions, and beliefs, it has no *******, it just repeats past impressions.”
Yenson Mar 2023
So tis trading places
by some milky faeces
sunk in damning vices
swarming with disgraces
ending up with eggs on faces

So tis trading places
obnoxious consipiracies
gangsters mired in idiocies
roping anodyne sheep in posses
gabbling pysche warfare by nancies

So tis trading places
some damp salts in follies
narcissists fixed on snowy jollies
gospels of envy and hate by proxies
jealous inadequate nowt but coward bullies

So tis trading places
discontent proles in crisis
blame-brigaders in fantasies
distorted knowledge are fallacies
lie to us about the victory of the loonies

— The End —