Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"reaking" poems
Ive planted some posies in a jar Kept safe in my fancy boudoir To place in my pocket as I travel far And mask the stench of my rotting scar I color my body in a thousand shades Of these flowers to prepare for the promenades A fountain of people amongst the maids To be served and serve as lost jades I dance the steps proclaimed With the slough of men famed And blend with all women tamed Reaking of the posies, my body inflamed My soul screams for white wings Of the dove as he sings But as a marionette on strings I must listen to my given kings So like the flowers adorn I'm the jewelry of this scorn A lie amidst the torn The princess never really born
0
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:22 PM UTC
Eau De Posies
mom? dad? i’m drowning. swimming towards the light above, astringent tears fill my lungs. mom? dad? i can’t breathe. miniscule doses of albuterol escaping from my little plastic inhaler stand meager in the eyes of the overly developed fear, prying its way up the lengths of my throat. mom? dad? there’s a stranger in my room. i stand in front of the mirror waiting for my reflection; waiting to see that little girl, bright, blue eyes, wide smile. but there’s a stranger there instead; bloodshot eyes, inflamed scores down her cheeks, reaking of poor judgement and broken promises. mom? dad? i can’t hear the music. the floor is varnished with broken cds, torn-up sheets of abandoned lyrics, mutilated “i love you”s; but the record player is still on. turning and turning yet i don’t hear a single note, my senses are paralyzed by the blow of my demolished heart. mom? dad? they won’t stop talking. people. people in my head. voices loud as they scream profanities, soft as they whisper lullabies, stern as they bellow punishments. i can’t make sense of those who twist and tug on my heart strings and those who wish to elongate them. i need out. mom? dad?
0
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
heart break?
*I am friends with the Midnight Man Yes I am friends with he He holds me tight When the moon is lost in the dark of him And soothe my pain with petty lies of death* *I am friends with the Midnight Man But I never asked for he He chocks my throat When I wish to the sandman of dreams And punishes me with truth reaking of death* *I am friends with the Midnight Man Yes... I'm compelled to be friends with he...*
0
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
Midnight Man...
“Just like sparrows, You'll never see one dead. Must be millions of them, but you'll hardly ever see one dead.” What happens to them? “They get over it.” Over what? “Over being there.” They simply lie with stale fear reaking from their skins, for death cannot heal them. Slowly, they let go of each others fingers and sink, numb, into that thick silence. They drown there. A thousand soffacating creatures, choking in a bombed-out town. All the candles in their churches are out, and death is a bone that stammers. And suddenly, they are guiltier than hell. History counts every smudging thumbprint.
0
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 7:12 AM UTC
J.B.
Your friend asked me if I knew I was the daughter of a king (I slipped a flower under your dorm room door) reaking of alcohol wrapping his tsitzis around his fingers (because I saw you crying, and smoking a joint behind the quesadilla stand)
0
Jun 12, 2011
Jun 12, 2011 at 7:00 AM UTC
(the one that made you laugh)
And i cant rite about politics Unless i plan on being a poetic Political journalist. Also, i must keep away from the inconsistencies of religion And i have to stop b reaking words up Because words arent to be uncoded And i cant rite about *** because its bad. Unless i plan on being a ****** therapist. But its okay to talk **** About hackers because everybody abhors them.
0
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
musekillers
By Arcassin Burnham Alright..... Most of you so-called poets make me sick, And some of y'all I'd rather sit and fire up another spiff, And for the people that a though had my back, I won't turn or shift, Running all of you over with a car, In a line, Only if, Satisfying my helish thrills, I swear fakeness can **** **** I'll be in the grave, With the devil doing deals, Just to make everyone I hate pay, Ruthless like my dad, You know the one I never seen, I bet he living the life of a bespoked dream, Cover my body with gasoline, So the fire could block my eye sight, Of remembering and seeing, The days of being bullied, Like I didn't have any means, And when I knew some things were not right, I didn't really matter, My days will be involved in **** ******* **** you stealthy and pregnate your girl, Like American horror story, You won the victory, But you just never had the glory, In and out that's why they worry, Skin turned white like mc Donald Flurry, 9/11 chased the poorly, God bless the world in secret orderly, Reaking havok in the janitors closet, She told me to wear ****** instead I didn't listen, Now look what I created, A little ******* name ******** So I live to take care of it, Unlucky and ghost printed it, On a birth certificate, Full of lies and betrayal, When I die, **** it I wanna goto hell, In reality I hate everyone, Come up with my own plans, And rain down on everyone, And for the finals, I hope you enjoyed the hate crime, Worry about you and I'll worry about mine.
0
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
"DC 1 (Decision Creating #1 - The Finals)"
By Arcassin Burnham Alright..... Most of you so-called poets make me sick, And some of y'all I'd rather sit and fire up another spiff, And for the people that a though had my back, I won't turn or shift, Running all of you over with a car, In a line, Only if, Satisfying my helish thrills, I swear fakeness can **** **** I'll be in the grave, With the devil doing deals, Just to make everyone I hate pay, Ruthless like my dad, You know the one I never seen, I bet he living the life of a bespoked dream, Cover my body with gasoline, So the fire could block my eye sight, Of remembering and seeing, The days of being bullied, Like I didn't have any means, And when I knew some things were not right, I didn't really matter, My days will be involved in **** ******* **** you stealthy and pregnate your girl, Like American horror story, You won the victory, But you just never had the glory, In and out that's why they worry, Skin turned white like mc Donald Flurry, 9/11 chased the poorly, God bless the world in secret orderly, Reaking havok in the janitors closet, She told me to wear ****** instead I didn't listen, Now look what I created, A little ******* name ******** So I live to take care of it, Unlucky and ghost printed it, On a birth certificate, Full of lies and betrayal, When I die, **** it I wanna goto hell, In reality I hate everyone, Come up with my own plans, And rain down on everyone, And for the finals, I hope you enjoyed the hate crime, Worry about you and I'll worry about mine.
Continue reading...
49
Feels like lately My life's going to hell in a hand basket Inferno blazing out of control I've tried but I can't fight it. Steadily dying I'm so sick of trying Pour butane on my life Then light it. I see your colours bending in the breeze Laying underneath It's with surprising eas That we quasi breed Working on my timing 'Cause my flaws tell you Of a life I thought I forgot It seems like your residing Don't make me something I'm not Don't make me another one lost Light the wood match Then drop it. I see your colours bending in the breeze Laying here with me Reaking treachery You're never gonna see. I'm guessing at hearsay Clutching at myth Believing all lies As the truth becomes a wisp. Begging for the truth While spending all my youth. Watch me burn away Forget it.
0
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
True Fire
Every night, you pour The venom down your throat. It soaks into your veins, Which makes the numbing start. Each glass makes the pain Fade away just a little more. Your words begin to slur, You stumble over the empty floor. But tonight is a different night. You've had your usual. A little bit of Coke Drowned in the venom. You come in to say goodnight. But tonight you're more numb Than ever before. You lean in to kiss me, Your breath reaking of Jack. You slip your hand under the covers, And rub your hand on my back. But tonight you don't stop there, You keep sliding until you reach my *** You say, "it's okay baby. Daddy loves you." The next morning You're oblivious to the past. And all you have to say is, "Daddy loves you."                              t.s.
0
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
daddy loves you
Speaking to myself just to make the dough Nearly going insane just to smoke the dough Time is money and I burn it to waste Time is endless and so am I Got them whiplashed looking back I cannot, will not fall I cannot, will not stall The warnings here And I do hear The gnashing of teeth Whimpering of them who weep Down on the floor they wreak Reaking havoc upon them for money Currency currently cursing them holding it the blinded man don't know this **** what is manipulation when a gun is pointed at you huh? The hollow tip wants a bite of your hip. Lost in this life that I do fall in trip in Sin has taken me like her and him
0
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
In the plains
Call me ******* to your mother because I cuh-cuh-couldn't feel the trembling heat reaking havok on the in thigh stubble. Ow! **** sorry stub my toe. I'm moving slow enough to double dutch with a couple couple cookie crisp. Ishy on the in dispute. Grarly upon the laudry booth smoochie smooching on farting fairies flarping from the ex-haust. Sorry my brain feels soft ffrom the rock salt. Hoochie snoochie snooting snorks slimey nap-cloth. Froze from the several palms second had palsy freezing in the eager eggnog. Ice over sire's searing sultry silken sick souly sullen franklin flame Bob. Billy will wally dilly Dally caught a fifty fatty rattle ****** daddy daddy daddy daddy, Fat Father igloos freak me father freak me father freak me father Im chuching my maugwa. Ma saws my mucho munched muddy crusty killer toes rain, ***** Are you hearing me gravel up your ****** hairs hurting from the rusty ****** clamps. I'm krusty crab freaking funk got me wondering why? okay wize guy wicked wonder wall watch my quest for questioning Ghostface Killah. I'm Slaid Cosby I ****** your daugher younger than the fury from you first tooth. I wish you spat my drizzle from the furry foster the kids frontporch pistol grip. Hop scotch?
0
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
Getting Bored?