"rages" poems
We were once kids.
We were once wild.
We were once soldiers.
In the dead of winter, you greeted death.
You fell from my grip and into the darkness,
and now a hundred years have rotted away and I have never felt so alone.
I ran from the winter because war was to attached to it.
I close my eyes and I see you there on the front line.
Young and drained, you were just a body rotting away.
Full of life so you hung on with everything you had.
bang
bang
It was such an awful sound.
Only if I had taken your place.
If only you would have run the other way.
Just how unfair is our luck.
Someday I'll teach myself to learn and live alone.
I'll teach myself that death was not the enemy.
But the winter storm rages on and I'm still having trouble breathing.
Don't be alarmed.
I march on.
Like the soldier I once was.
Don't be alarmed.
I've seen many winter storms
and I have miraculously survived them all.
Can't you see that I don't want to move on?
Don't bring tomorrow because I can't take another.
My eyes are too fogged to see the light.
My minds too cluttered to think right.
I've tasted my own tears
and faced all my fears.
So here I am.
Laying on the floor.
So here we are.
Together once more.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Red wine bubbling in the back of your throat
Rewind the kindling of a fire you won't put it out
Oceans unchanging, swallowing whole boats
You and I left in the void, to drown
I am unfeeling and fleetingly alive
I am lonely and slowly finding peace of mind
You are salt spilled across table tops
You are a child tearing apart and lost.
Dirt on your knees and scabs on your skin
We live free with the pleasures of sin
You taste him on your tongue,
Songs we left unsung.
Your old jacket, the one you gave me,
Well the zipper broke last week.
And the sleeves are torn apart,
It's grown too tight, it don't fit how it did in the start
Metaphors for a broken heart
How the ocean rages and pulls us apart
Smiles for the tattered soul
How the angels play their role.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
from the mind it flows
traveling through my veins
down my bones.
every part of me rages
for comfort and ignorance.
I erupt,
my emotions drain
oh I wish
I wish I cared less.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
I should not have blamed only my father, but,
he was the first to introduce me to
raw and stupid hatred.
he was really best at it: anything and everything made him
mad-things of the slightest consequence brought his hatred quickly
to the surface
and I seemed to be the main source of his
irritation.
I did not fear him
but his rages made me ill at heart
for he was most of my world then
and it was a world of horror but I should not have blamed only
my father
for when I left that... home... I found his counterparts
everywhere: my father was only a small part of the
whole, though he was the best at hatred
I was ever to meet.
but others were very good at it too: some of the
foremen, some of the street bums, some of the women
I was to live with,
most of the women, were gifted at
hating-blaming my voice, my actions, my presence
blaming me
for what they, in retrospect, had failed
at.
I was simply the target of their discontent
and in some real sense
they blamed me
for not being able to rouse them
out of a failed past; what they didn't consider was
that I had my troubles too-most of them caused by
simply living with them.
I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even
stupidly happy almost without cause
and left alone I am mostly content.
but I've lived so often and so long with this hatred
that
my only freedom, my only peace is when I am away from
them, when I am anywhere else, no matter where-
some fat old waitress bringing me a cup of coffee
is in comparison
like a fresh wild wind blowing.
17.2k
Inside my brain
There is a tornado
Spinning to infinity and beyond.
God only knows how fast.
My shoulders ache and my feet cramp.
My wrists click
And my eyes go damp.
Inside my brain instead is a monsoon:
A tumultuous storm that rages on.
Waves froth and smash,
Beating against the backs of my eyeballs.
Sometimes they find their way
Down my soft spotted cheeks.
My lashes float to the earth
One by one by one by one.
Would you collect them for me
Like discarded flower petals
Down the aisle of my soul's chapel
And press them into a scrapbook
Full of twisted memories?
Inside my brain is an H2O tornado
Like reckless rainstorm pirouettes.
My swirling view is blurred,
But every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of the glowing whites of your eyes
And I remember to fill my lungs,
Head above the water,
And breathe.
Twirl, twist.
Wind, mist.
But don't panic,
Because every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of you.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
The butterflies have since moved, not migrated, but moved.
No trips planned ahead nor any reason to return.
Inside, the battle rages on:
To love, to forgive, or to forget?
Outside, experiences fill voids.
Like a Band-Aid on an open wound:
Temporary.
Love is a powerful tool.
Hatred is a powerful tool.
Indifference may be the most powerful.
That internal skirmish ceases and the external
emotional trips drift further and further away from that lonely island.
The move has been dramatic, yet necessary now.
At the start, it was a city;
Full of life and people and things to do.
Then the suburbs, less people, less things to do.
Next was the island: alone and isolated, but tranquility.
The homemade raft sets sail for a new destination.
Will it arrive in a bustling city port?
Or arrive at a small dock along a river?
The snake sheds it skin to begin anew.
Forget the genie and make your own bottle,
Write your own message,
And write your own history.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
Two thousand years
Regressing past the cross
Lead bites bitter as bronze
Gaza rages
The brimstone and fire you promised
You delivered
Apostle bound crusader
Jewish Lucifer
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
Maybe it was Best for this Reindeer-Line
To Fix what should have been Fixed since ages
Or tie this Noose which lost all its Define
Then nod dearly at those Long-Horned Rages
But how, Prince, could you bear this Entropy
Even when Tories tell you to Conserve?
Such Lust, needled to their Empathy
May have Forgotten what you long Deserve
Twice that Life-Spoken Meme; And now the Third
Gushes well-rained Merriments from this Cloud
Pray, that soon admit this Settlement, heard
And invest their Songs and Prayers out Loud.
Come, take this Hymn, and sing-along with me
How greatly Petitioned; Yet not to Be.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
400 years America ,
For 400 years America, we've been playing this game of cat and mouse, and for 400 years America, you refuse to give us the keys to the house.
For 400 years America , we've been asking to be free, and for 400 years America , you sat there and you promised me, all the freedom I could ask for , for just a small fee
For 400 years America , we've been paying that small fee in sweat, tears and blood
For over 400 years America, we have witnessed the flood, from the storm clouds that burst in a black mother's eyes. The Storm that rages in her heart as she cries. The Lightening that strikes her heart as she watches her son bleed as he dies.
For over 400 years America , we've had to watch our people bleed , for over 400 years America , you've literally scorched and scathered and destroyed our seed.
For over 400 years America our sons, daughters, fathers , mothers have bled and for over 400 years tear after tear was shed
The flags that represent you, makes you free . But the same flags that represent you, doesn't represent me. The flag that represents words that say"all men are created equal" considered me an animal and there seemed to never be a sequel.
400 years later and still "no refuge can save, the hireling and slave from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave" I am not blind, don't need a stick or a stave, I am not foolish, I see the road that you have paved America!
For over 400 years, America, My brothers and sisters have fought for your pride
We carried your rifles, we lifted your flag and still you were snide
For over 400 years America, for you battles we've won
400 year later you still point your gun
It's been 400 years America, Gotdammit I am not a slave
I want my rights and you will not tell me how to behave!
You've always had freedom white man, and you don't know how bad I crave! that my kids grow up in freedom and for that I'll be brave to the grave. Even if it kills me, I will not let the color of my skin decide whether or not I win. I will not you let, America, and your adulterous, heinous sin control me and the condition I am in
400 years later America, and you act like you still don't know their names
400 years later America and you still plea ignorance, you don't feel their pains
Emmit Till, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray
These are some of the lives from us you took away
400 years later and you still make us pay
and that's not okay....
To you slavery was yesterday and we should shout free at last?
To you the last police shooting was last week, we shouldn't riot, it's in the past, You want us white washed but we can't shake the scars from centuries in a caste
Freedom isn't free, but I still believe, I still believe that someday my eyes will see, all nations, all skin colors under one tree, connected to one vine, to the divine
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
*a rain is falling,
on the crack’d earth
a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us
how do we return this present,
this overwhelming love,
endless kisses you shower,
in your every drop
a rain is calling,
on a thunder drum
a rain is singing,
come, ye all come
look the well is swell,
bare earth rustle green again,
how an elusive peacock cries
out the rain's endless names,
a rain is bending,
the mighty banyan tree
a rain is chasing,
cobra, ants and bees
how the sea rages in anarchy,
its heart is majestic today
cling of old things vanish,
in a flowing disarray
a rain is falling,
on the cracked earth
a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us*
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
imagine you're standing at the edge of a beach, looking into the water. it's a beautiful beach, the best you've ever been to.
the water is pure, the sand is soft.
and it's all yours, this wonderful beach. as you're standing there, you see a tsunami approaching.
you can't believe it, this tsunami is about to tear apart your
sacred beach, and you with it.
you yell, you scream, you think of everything possible to try and stop this tsunami from coming, but on it rages.
it reaches you and you're immediately knocked off your feet, drowning in the mad water.
it pushes and pulls you in a million different directions
and you choke on its waves.
do you fight?
of course you do. this is your beach.
the tsunami has no right to be here.
you'll be strong and fight until this tsunami goes away. and so you do. you kick and you swim and you keep your head above water and finally,
your feet reach the ground again.
miraculously, when you look around, your beach is still intact.
the sand is still soft at the touch,
and the water is the purest of blues again.
but you're barely able to catch your breath for a second before you see in the distance another tsunami headed towards you and your wonderful beach.
you can't believe it.
again its waves swallow you and you're not as strong as you were when the first tsunami hit.
do you fight?
of course you do.
..right?
it's harder to keep your head above water this time,
and the waves pull you under until you're at your breaking point.
you don't know which way is up or down,
and when you reach the ground again,
this time it's your knees that touch the soft sand,
not your feet.
you're shaken. a little weak, but otherwise okay.
you get to your feet, look out into the water, and your heart stops. another tsunami headed your way...
you're not sure you're going to make it as the 8th tsunami
takes its turn on you.
you've been underwater for minutes and you can feel the last of your oxygen being used up.
it's your instinct to fight, but how much more can you really give?
your body is weak and your mind isn't far behind.
do you fight?
do you fight for your beach?
you think of its perfection and it dawns on you that no one in their right mind would give up a beach like that.
so you should fight.
shouldn't you?
you don't know anymore.
is it worth it?
the beauty of the beach is matched by the terror of the tsunamis.
it's not possible for you to have one without the other.
you don't have to make your decision this time,
because as your still deciding,
you feel your back rest upon the warm, soft sand.
you're lying down and you don't even have the energy
to lift your head up.
but you hear it.
you hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards you.
i hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards me.
do i brace myself for the fight?
do i stand up and face this tsunami head on?
do i keep still and accept defeat?
will i let the water rush over me and stop fighting?
..what would you do if it were you?
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
. . . I have been seeking a new kingdom to call home and your heart, like a castle hides behind great walls,
where both the strong and weak share embarassing flaws.
Unlike just any castle, yours is not on top of a great hill,
nor in the midist of a forest beyond where the waters chill,
its right infront of everyones face who decides to pay attention,
funny that many by pass it because they never seek it, but are ever seeking attention.
Unlike in fairytales, its guarded by pride, humbleness, care and a huge ego,
it rages against anyone who tries to love and care for it, but when it loves back, it never lets go.
Like any castle out there, forcing yourself in will hurt both you and those in it,
the hours you'll take destroying can not be compared to the years you'll take rebuilding it.
So I made up my mind to stand at the gates of these great walls, perfectly built brick for brick,
to proclaim my honour and loyalty for you,to make a promise and stick to it,
because I would rather help you guard it, than play pirate to break down your walls.
So Knight me your majesty, as I report for duty to guard and protect everything that lays behind your great walls. . .
. . . let me make it my new home. . .
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
i think how we need to be loved as adults stems from our childhood (or lack thereof).
if you were abandoned, you need to be smothered, to know every second that you're adored. but as a child you were always alone, so the very love you crave makes you feel suffocated and crawling white knuckled to get out.
and so this war rages inside of us, until we have exhausted ourselves & perhaps those who were brave enough to extend their hands.
©raine cooper
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
the strain of labor
the pain of toil
the ache of legs and arms
the sweating brow
drudging farmer curse the soil
mutely chide the milkless cow
the demon waits for no man.
he rages forth
renders furrows charred
the fields so dry
the rocky ground so hard
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
I'll be completely honest but not completely true
I'll be true to my heart but not always true to you
some of my words will reflect much of what I feel
while you'll find that other lines are more contrived to conceal
you see a poet can use their words to bear their deepest feeling
but look again and you may see something deeper redder bleeding
read again between the lines of the fresher tender cuts
and you'll brush a slower finger over old wounds long untouched
you may disturb my untold stories seeping through the pages
and find a heart much like yours where an older passion rages
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
fire's wrath rages,
melting down my unworthy bones,
burn brightly my foe.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Inside, my jealousy rages
I do well to keep it in
You whisper Don't hold back from me
But if I didn't, what then?
It'd only cause more arguments,
You'll tire from my useless imagines.
Trust me when I tell you love,
That if you knew every single time
Another woman walked past
I saw myself crouching to attack,
Rip hair from root and gouge pretty blue eyes.
I want- no, need -to end their lie
That I know her beauty is,
In hopes you'll see it too.
I'm just afraid you'll fall prey
To the illusions the pretty woman portrays.
You're ever so smart,
But trust me, they're smart as well
They all went to school on how to walk,
How to smile with their pretty blue eyes,
How to make your heart, beat
And downunder rise
It's a lie though love,
I'm what's really real
So don't look at them, look at me.
I don't like the way jealousy makes me feel..
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
There is a forest,
Somewhere around; Nowhere.
And in this forest on a barren patch.
Is a cottage.
On one side of the cottage there is a field,
That burns through night and day.
On the other side is a river,
Where it rains from dusk till dawn.
In this small cottage,
Lives a poet and his two pets.
One a Raven; as black as night.
One a Phoenix; burning brighter then light.
They fight and tease each other.
But although the Phoenix is stronger
The Raven always gets the better of him.
So the Phoenix rages on.
Every night, the house catches on fire,
And the field of fire consumes the house.
Causing the fire to grow stronger.
And spread through the forest even more.
But at 4 am in the morning,
The raven flies up to the moon,
And commands the winds and waters,
To put the fire out of the cottage.
Every morning,
The poet re builds the right side of the house.
Making sure the next fire,
Wont be as damaging.
But one day,
The phoenix turned from a fiery red,
To a midnight blue,
And burned not only the house, but the whole forest.
The river went dry,
The forest turned to ask,
The poet could not re build.
And the Raven had no water or wind to call.
The poet had to go else where.
But could only take one pet.
And although the phoenix burned brighter,
The darkness of the raven seemed safer.
The phoenix was enraged,
He became one with the burning forest.
He rose up to the sky,
And promised to reign heavily on them with ***** of fire.
The raven protected the poet,
And called on to the night,
And with one strong swing of her wings
She blew out the fire that consumed the phoenix and the forest.
Out of the ash,
The poet could re build nothing,
But the Raven offered him protection,
Under her dark wings.
In darkest of nights,
He was protected buy the calmest.
In the heat of the fire,
He feared to burn out and cease to be.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 7:44 AM UTC
Like the sun,
she brightens up my day
Always there, never far away
Like Mercury,
She’s scorched with beauty
A dazzling image for all to see
Like Venus,
A goddess in my mind
A divine gift for all mankind
Like Earth,
Her heart is where I make my home
An aura so real, I never feel alone
Like Mars,
Her hair, it runs with red
she annihilates any tear I shed
Like Jupiter,
She has the largest heart
She herself: a work of art
Like Saturn,
Beauty surrounds her like a ring
So light and divine, almost floating
Like Uranus,
She goes against the grain
Free from the world, she breaks the chain
Like Neptune,
Her passion rages like the wind
she sets out like a storm to rescind
Like Pluto,
So distant but never forgotten
Dancing for eternity around the sun
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
This flame grows higher
As the days march on,
It shan't ever tire
For it rages much too strong.
In my heart, yes, in my heart
The immortal heat yearns,
Bring thy kiss and start
A sensational sweet burn.
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
I was there in the corner,
All alone,
No voice,
Only fear was my company,
It was that time, I went to a place
Where the pain disappeared,
Even only for the first few blows,
The pillow so soft on my face,
It soaked up my tears,
It soaked up my fear,
With each blow, white never hurt so much
I didn't have a happy place,
Just pain, the look of hate upon the face,
The pillow talk, was hash,
It was to lessen the marks,
Hidden from the outside world,
These feathers hit like a fist,
Shaded in white,
Shaded in hate,
A voice was needed, to be released,
Made to think the voice would never be heard,
Pillow talk carried on,
Till the pain screamed out behind the white
And the pillow talk did stop.
Life went on, years did pass,
The anger of a damaged childhood
Simmers,
Boils,
Rages,
All beneath the surface, Never to be released,
The time has past, bruises gone,
But though it was a limited time
The pain of the past
Its a burden on my heart, that'll carry on.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
Wings of darkness float my way
I am the ocean, a sprawling black mess
But I still can't sea
Harsh orange rages on forever
Words are scattered like puzzle pieces that won't fit
Colours unravel whether or not I want
It's too much, trying too hard to be victorious
The whispering, the endless laughter, it's driving me to a pit
Pain takes flight as a member of a controlling fleet
Embracing the full fury of a blackened spiral
To slowly drag me away to a chamber of scorching heat
Everything feels so painful, yet I don't stop it
Because it's glorious
For one moment, I feel triumphant
Soon the feeling will drag me under with it
But to hell with long-lasting pleasure
Serenity
Happiness
Wings of darkness take me away
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
No poison as venomous
Nor insidious a rouge
No piercing an arrow
Can compare to love
A disease like no other
Like no virus or spore
It rides the breezes of Autumn
With the leaves as they fall
In the laughter of lovers
As they gaze into their eyes
Their company they cherish
As the world, it turns blank
Such subterfuge is legend
As warning you it does not
And in chains of steel unbreaking
Your heart will be wrought
Your walls will crumble
Your discipline, for naught
You crave their happiness
And then you are lost...
as it tears you asunder
and rips you apart from within
Oh, such a malady has no cure!
You can only give in...
When will you arrive my love?
Please, come to me
Cool this fever of passion
This fire that rages within
Swiftly my darling!
Life from my fingers it slips
I can´t bear to see them smiling...
In sadness I wallow in...
yet, maybe this is what I deserve
For turning my back on my heart
The pain, the agony, it feels...
like the cut of a thousand knives...
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC