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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
daj, do wynagrodzenia: reszty.
daj: to niby: siebie;
a... dam... dam...
ale pierw: powiem:             to!
(ich) nicht werden
                  geben (ihr) das nacht!
first... i'll punch myself
hard enough to give myself
a plum-eye: ******* pacifists...
and then?
    then i'll strap a trouser belt
to protect my knuckles...
and then... then...
                    then: we'll "talk":
who might find a translator
ready...
   god...
i'm gagging for a
knuckle exchange...
        almost... itching!
like i might await
a shaving... from a Turkish
barber... in Essex...
of all Danish palaces;
and why would i want to allow
consort with these women?
considering the fact that
the russian ones believe in trans-national
grievance taxation:
of someone... who hasn't...
actually died...
              you know what?
*******...
suffer...
       watch me wipe my ***
with a satanic smile
ennobled
by a coulrophobia...
excesses of vogue
                      atypical models...
how is it... that...
coulrophobia doesn't translate
in reverse?
  and what's up
with the black privilege of
jass music, akin to white mozart...
as...  
  sure as ****, the drum would be
the first, and only thing,
prior to the people learning
the ******* clarinet!

oh drop me your ****** ***
holocaust dead bomb
on a polish ***...
     i triple, quadruple dare you!
you *******... ivory coast
   centipede!
               i'm *******...
as watts: wild-eyed...
       unstrap me from this
"unreality" of conversation...
then undo the internet banking...
and the rest of it...

             not adam watts!
    glitter & doom....
who?      tom waits...
oh **** me... blue valentine?
if that's not a **** with me
album... what is?
                 live circus?
        
do i look like a ******* ****-
(see the hyphen?
it's a prefix... the english are
lazy sometimes: couldn't,
i.e. could not,
remnants of shakespearean
english...

       i'll always cite macbeth...

  time, thou anticipat'st my dread
exploits: the flighty purpose never
is o'eertook, unless the deed go with it.
from this moment, the very firstlings
of my heart shall be
  the very firstlings of my heart.
   and even now, to crown my thoughts
with acts, be it thought and done.


it's hardly a racial slur, ergo...
why so ******* sensitive akin to a french
footballer or a ballerina?
   ****- (hyphen! hyphen!) ergo a prefix...
as already mention:
no, no...
   it's not: no iraqi ever called me a pa-ki
      (pákí)... yeah...
and you never called an afghanistani an
afghan, ever, no?
   pure camaraderie in that part of
the world... all the way... yeah yeah... yeah...
-stani (suffix) is sometimes missing
because... the english like to shorten words...
e.g. why is daniel: dan,
why is matthew: matt?
  why is muhammad: mo (farrah)?
                                    ******* pansies...
police your circumcised penises fiddling
english teenager girl, first,
come after my vocab. justifications: after;
savvy?

or a gypsy?
   by now...
     i'm looking like any
traveler...
and the world...
       forever resembled
a world,
  in the confines of
      a claustrophobia...

but... if there's a bigger concern for
a world...
  and a freedom...
i want a bare knuckle fight...
a black eye...
namely...
you bring  BOXING GLOVE...
and i'll bring...
     a LEATHER BELT...
wrapped around my knuckles,
and the wrist...
    like i might care to give
a second attempt to smile...

ah... the men... who care
about minding, if not in the least,
keeping women...
      bye bye, bye bye...
       and i've allowed myself
to know my grandfather...
as i did the slap in the face...
and...
the key question:
in the unfathomability of counting
the 32 / 4 ratio...
alas... one fist... one smile...

and countless... dentistry encounters...
because?
   because the rest?
the cultural artifacts of a today?
  lost to h'americana...
            as i might have wished...
for my prior genes
to make an autobiography
in **** germany...
  
   what?
  
      well... obviously: the oops.

no, for the crescendo...
you know...
           i'm getting this funny vibe...
gott ist tot... it's not really spectacular...
nietzsche really believed in eternity,
to the point where he pointed:
what does science offer, only old age...
what does religion provide? eternity...
oh nietzsche was big on eternity...
   gott ist tot is as unspectular as:
is it: how to do you pronounce x,
or is it: how do you pronunciate y?
debate:
              everyone says around here
the former... since no one wants to be a *****...
pro-nun-ci-ate (pro-nun-cíate)...
   might as well replenish the vocab. bank
and replace the word with:
how do you elocute z? / recite)....

gott ist tot / gott ist tod...
    "same ****, different cover"...
you know why i believe in god?
    not the christian reference points...
salvation blah blah, saviour and hide & seek blah blah...
n'ah... where would i derive all my vocab.
hunger if not from him?
   some men derive their vocab. from
women or gambling...
            i am not in the position of their
luxury... so god it is...

            primarily though?
               god is metaphysics...
             ergo? his judgement is not clouded
by metaphysical questioning...
it's impossible to receive a metaphysical
answer from a metaphysical question
when engaging with a metaphysical
ontological paraphrase of one's own search
for meaning in this mortal frame...

oh sure sure, my belief in god is as juvenille
as anyone else's belief in humanity's
clarity when it comes to jurisprudence
and its application...
    i've experience "jurisprudence" once...
drive-by phone theft...
me and three fwends...
   i catch the number plate...
i tell one of my fwends to note it down,
police station, report, culprit found,
a sit in at a barkingside police station
looking at mug images,
spot the ****** (it was dark when the mugging
took place, photographic memory, **** happens)...
a court session, australia is playing england
at the ashes (****, i missed it)...
in court the defence lawyer shows me
another picture of the culprit...
back then photogrpahs had dates
attached to them...
the photograph? over 4 years old...
i tell him: but this photograph is 4 years old!
how can i identify if this is the same
person: i, myself, will probably
don a beard in four years time!
      a simple slip-up...
        now that i have a beard:
it's so much more fun than growing your
hair long... i hated the nickname
chewbacca back in high school when i was
growing mine for a french braid...
i walk out of the court,
come to terms with the detective...
and i see the same hunger in him as i see in me...
will justice be served?
highly unlikely... since the victim
didn't recognize the *** in the mug-shots...
justice was probably not served...

   and this is how god plays into all of this,
hell or heaven, blah blah...
man created the figure of domina Iustitia
as blind... god created death to be blind...
justice was never supposed to be blind,
death was: the unfortunate deaths
of teenagers in car accidents,
among all the other freak accidents...

clouded with so many metaphysical questions
i don't appreciate man's ability to adhere
to jurisprudence without being
subjectively contaminated...
i have more belief in an "imaginary"
god than belief that strains me to belief
in man's sense of justice...
          the nuremberg trials are a rare exception...
but only when the culprits are
unabashed and fathomable by a collective
sense of pride... a blidness...
i believe in god, because i'd love to experience
the judgement of a post scriptum of
metaphysics...
  personally? i have been wronged...
heavily...
            i will not name names....
i know when and how i was wronged,
and by whom...
                2007... Canterbury...
      i won't name names: i'm not a rat...
man is too clouded with metaphysical questions
to begin with, god isn't,
he's a metaphysical ontology "bias"...
which is why, he is primarily a jurisprudent
answer...
   i'd love to experience divine jurisprudence,
hell or heaven are not of my concern...
and i don't imply divine jurisprudence
associated with the polytheistic take of
jurisprudence via a solipsistic mechanism
of a minor god and the person in question
without the hurt party...
in monotheism the god is solipsism personified...
these days: also the personna non grata...
so no... gott ist nicht tot...
            he's a personna non grata...
i just don't appreciate the human *******
of law, law governance...
   come on, in england you can receive
an a.s.b.o.s. for your cockerel being too loud
in the morning, your dog barking...
           would you trust man with
jurisprudence?
  a woman was cleared of the ******
of her husband
       when she hammered his head into a pancake:
over an abusive relationship...
police, weren't, "there"?!
sure sure... the hammer will do...
i believe in god without a sense of reward...
i just don't think man is capable of
passing justifiable laws...
no man could ever pass the eternal laws,
gravity... 100°C for the boiling of water...
i need a being  who has groundwork
in eternal laws, in unshakeable laws...
the ten commandments aren't:
you shall not...
   more... maybe, you shouldn't...
they are the most pristine jurisprudent
laws available... the: maybe you shouldn't,
eh, chappy?

       i just don't like playing the thesaurus game
on the more tight-knit game
of "passing" the wink-wink of Solomon's
judgement...
please, **** me please,
i'll eat 20 raw herrings in a cream sauce,
slurp 30 oysters,
eat 40 strawberries on a hangpverl
eat out about 50 harem virgins
like a castrato if you ask me, nicely,
**** camel cockey:
lucly i landed on a black gold slurp
with plenty of bangladeshi slaves:
******* of riyadh...
     what did muhammed tell you?
you camel jockeys / sand *******
have clearly forgotten...
******* arabs: short attention span...
you need to remind
the retards...
the dajjal would come from the east...
a palace of gardens...
well obviously the prophet wasn't
thinking about genghis khan...
            
  hmm barbarians...
vikings, arabs: yet so inclined to like poetics...
funny, that...
the civilized peoples banished
the poets...
            the ruling class and their cushioned
people: sacrosanct sycophants...
wankers, basically.

    the hajr? muhammad spoke of the dajjal
coming from the east,
and the east being a city of gardens...
where isn't riyadh and where is mecca?
isn't riyadh east of mecca?
was the dajjal to come from the outside
of islam, or from wtihin?
      last time i checked...
sh'ite islam isn't friendly to sunni islam...
if islam was the one true religion...
would have a shcism have occurred?
i don't think so...
   a persian would never bow before
an arab... that much os true...

oh i believe in god...
given how man practices jurisprudence...
is it some sort of, a, thesaurus game
i wasn't told about?
to me the human quest for jusctice is
a thesaurus game...
man is incapable to pass but one,
eternal, law...
he's great at nuanced laws...
laws allocated to sports...
i mean, **** me, cricket?
the best vocab. you'll ever pick up...

even god isn't as pertinent
in making the sort of music associated
with the limited alpha-to-beta
of A, B, C, D, E, F, and G...
wow! seven... seven?!
how many heads does the beast
of revelation have? oh... 7!

i'll stop tolerating islam, and start respecting it,
when it, acknowledges its presence
as a character study in the book of revelations...
then i'll just move on,
having made my point...

until that time comes...
    it's 600 years shy of becoming what
degenerate christianity has become,
oh and it's ripe...
it's gagging to implode!
600 years and wait for it to become
the next secular vasal conglomorate...

the warning muhammad gave
about "the best from the east"
was in point of question:
   a reference ti gneghis khan...
more like ibn saud:
  thst fat diabetic one eyed ogre...
and the legacy of decadence he left
behind...

saudi men with slavuc girlfriends,
buying up pink cushions and *******
chihuahuas...
**** after ****...
  you know the three slavic proverbs?
1. better a sparrow in your
hand, than a dove on your rooftop?
explanation?
better the small joys at-hand,
than impossible possibilities out of reach....
2. a drunk can spot east,
past mecca, whenever honing
the safety of his own bed... even at night...
not much of a proverb...
3. i don't care to rememeber...

once toleration comes into play,
i will, respect... just a waiting game...
i'm pretty sure no iranian will
bow down to a sunni camel jockey...
i like proud *******,
it implies: there are absolutes,
un-moveable goal posts...

                      if you are ever to bind yourself
in supporting a "side" outside a sports' dynamic,
always the outsider...
always the outsider... in this case?
the ****'ite islam brigade...
       the persians...
the sunnis can shove it...
   *****, bones, whatever....

                   ****'ite islam i can
fathom, even respect,
sunni islam i just tolerate...
  as much as iran takes claims for the
big satan in ref. to h'america...
well... if h'america supports the infantile
saudi arabia, who's to blame them?

you know that polonaise joke about
about the pacifism of jews in
2nd world world war poland?
the joke ran along the words:
weren't the jews shooting the nazis
using crooked elbows (rifles)?
they always seemed to miss them,
taunted into walking into gas chambers,
the ******* hobbits...

          what? some bolshevik Brooklynian
jewish rada is to spare me
                 the pay-up diffrential
telling me, i was wrong?

  as i said before: the nazis lamented
when the warsaw uprising happened...
no, st. paul's doesn't stand proud
because, because...
   even with the blitz...
                 the luftwaffe were told:
you drop a bomb on st. paul's: firing squad...
and when notre-dame de paris -
last time i checked...
   the nazis didn't luftwaffe the **** out
of paris... did they?!

                  the nazis weren't mongols;
no people so well versed in chanel in terms
of their military being so well
   suited & booted could ever make such a
                              architectural sacrilege...

what?! people under the silicon curtain
are gagging, begging even: for nazis!
can i be the first?!
i just want to please the hungry!
if not punk then moving swiftly into ska...
am i the first?
   siliziumvorhang...
well, **** me... from under the eisenvorhang...
what's with these neo-communist pseudos?

and the hebrew god?
a jealous god... so a god with the knowledge
of the existence of other gods...
why wouldn't a jealous god have
no knowledge of other ("imagianry") gods?
to be jealous of only one's own existence?!

3 / 1: that's the ratio....
that's the only ratio... 3 times i experienced
love at first sight:

when i fell in love at first sight...
malina, samantha, janina,
priya....

equal measure: isabella of grenoble...

in reverse:
magda, promis, ilona, kot (i forget her name,
7 years old, first kiss, you can be forgiven
to forget, she had two twin sisters
and she was the senior,
her fasther drove a distribution truck,
milk, i think)...

****, i actually mismanaged
that ratio...

i believe in "a" god...
since i find too much of human jurisprudence
to be riddle with the thesaurus...
i don't think man can pass
law, he can "suppose so"...
but he will never pass the sort of law,
made forbidden,
or absolutely allowed....
i don't believe in a god akin
to the sort of a pontous pilate god
where i'll always find myself
outside of punk evolving into ska...

         mind you...
i'd hate to be trapped within
the confines of an atheistic exclusion zone
of intellect,
      to be trapped in nothing is one
thing, but to be trapped inside
the confines of an atheist's "nothing"
is quiet another....
i don't like being a hamster inside
a cognitive wheel of another...
   god is the jurisprudence spirit,
man the metaphysical spirit...
and i would very much like to stand
in the light of divine law being passed
to finally feel my shadow...

kult: brooklyńska rada żydów...
  not familiar?
  i forgot punk a long time ago...
esp. when californians came up with their
version, ergo? ska...

i'm currently taping a film
about the silesian vampire...
how strange, that the prussians came
back into the ***** of the polonaise...

growing a beard is so much fun!
fiddle after fiddle: and no violin!
atheists bore me
as much as the theistic hags
who's only ambition are
the thrill associated with Sunday
h'america and cinema...
               i can imagine only one
heaven...
where i am blind and given
               a large library of music.
Georgiana Banks Oct 2012
I will always remember your smile
I will always remember your kitchen tiles
I will always remember
Your daring witt
I rememeber your love
every single bit
I will always remember your last call
If i could i would record them all
I will always remember your laugh
and how it made me laugh too
I remember it all
I will always remember you.
Do I Matter Dec 2013
Memories cant be chosen. Memories just come and go as your brain pleases. Whether you want to remember something or not. Its not really up to you. Those times when you really want to remember everything you studied for a test or when you want to forget about the guy who broke your heart.

In my case the memories of people calling me names, tripping me, making me feel hopeless. I want to forget, but my brain wont allow it. They will always be there. I will never know when i will remember those times. They might come when im at my happiest. I tried making myself believe its like that for a reason, but i dont know anymore.

Those memories of your first kiss or those of the time you went to your first school dance. Those are the memories you want to keep. The good ones. The ones that make you smile when you think its physically impossible. Write them down and put them in a box, because maybe one day when you forget to smile and you also forget them, you will rememeber.

Treasure the people you love. Forget the people who make you cry. Ignore those who hurt you.  And love like there is no tomorrow. Make memories. Make some who make you laugh and make some that make you cry.

And rememeber.  Be who you want to be.
Do I Matter Dec 2013
Memories cant be chosen. Memories just come and go as your brain pleases. Whether you want to remember something or not. Its not really up to you. Those times when you really want to remember everything you studied for a test or when you want to forget about the guy who broke your heart.

In my case the memories of people calling me names, tripping me, making me feel hopeless. I want to forget, but my brain wont allow it. They will always be there. I will never know when i will remember those times. They might come when im at my happiest. I tried making myself believe its like that for a reason, but i dont know anymore.

Those memories of your first kiss or those of the time you went to your first school dance. Those are the memories you want to keep. The good ones. The ones that make you smile when you think its physically impossible. Write them down and put them in a box, because maybe one day when you forget to smile and you also forget them, you will rememeber.

Treasure the people you love. Forget the people who make you cry. Ignore those who hurt you.  And love like there is no tomorrow. Make memories. Make some who make you laugh and make some that make you cry.

And rememeber.  Be who you want to be.
Yeah it's one shot one ****

Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed
Bullets feedin' ya last meal
Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills
Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill  now you leakin' out like oil spills
Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a
Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind
Thoughts intertwined  
****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching
Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell
The ashes burning fermentin'
time runnin' slower than molasses
My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static
Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic
Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul  
**** longer than Repunzels hair follicles
Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose
D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks
Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin'
Fools givin' chase
and to tastes of demonic faces
My flows replenish like **** laces
Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses
Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste
Adversaries don't wanna face
Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture
Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya
'til ya
  A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical
lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles
Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial
My soul sour as a pickle no tickles
Could move me or influence thee my legacy
Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh
Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills
Rememeber
All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
Rose Wilder Oct 2012
Forget his name
Forget his face
Forget his kiss
His warm embrace
Forget tge love once knew
Remember he has someone new
Forget him when they paly your song
Remember when you cried all night long
Forget how close you once were
Remember he has chosen her
Forget how you memorized his walk
Forget the way you used to talk
Forget the things he used to say
Rememeber he has gone away
Forget his kuagh frget his grin
Forget the dimples on his chin
Ftget the way
Sad Girl Mar 2021
Rememeber how she loved you.
Remember how she smelled.
Remember the tiny hairs
on the back of her neck
and the way that she spoke
your name like you were
something special.
Remember how she laughed
at your poor-taste jokes and sewed
the buttons back onto your pants
when your weight fluctuated
all of those years.
Remember reading stories
to each other at night
and sharing your unorthodox thoughts
over a warm mug of something or other,
whenever she was into that sort of thing.
Remember driving miles to see her
and feeling like you'd never parted.
Remember sharing your insecurities
and your dark memories that you dare
not share with anyone else.
Remember how she never uttered judgement
in your direction even when you choked up
during those discussions.
Remember laughing.
Remmeber holding her.
Remember how she smelled
after a long stressful day
and how- to you- it smelt
sweet instead of sour.
Remember the sound of her voice
when she sang to you.
Remember when that same
"beautiful" voice cracked
when she would cry.
Remember making her cry.
Rmemeber the first time that your hands
forgot what a delicate little girl she was
when you struck her.
Remember her forgiving heart.
Remember the number of times
that you said "I'm sorry".
Remember the fire in your stomach growing
during those fights.
Remember how the love outweighed the issues.
Remember crying in each others arms
as you made up and held each other
so tight (it almost hurt).
Her smell.
Remember that.
Remember the first time that
you slept in seperate beds again,
like before there was an "us".
Remember waking up alone,
missing her.
Her smell.
Remember watching her pack her
things and walk out the door.
Remember how unreal it felt
and how you couldn't stop it.
Remember when words weren't enough anymore.
Remember why she walked away.
Remember trying to hold onto
the memory of her smell.
Remember how empty your
arms felt the night that
you couldn't remember anymore.
Take it all in.
Take some time to sit with it.

Now try to forget.

Try to forget how
much it hurts to

Remember.
sappy soppy garbage.
Torin Mar 2016
I'm sitting on a break with my hands and my feet in space and time, but my thoughts in another dimension

I only remember the taste of a cupcake being a little bit salty but still so sweet that I don't think about the cavities I'll incur while enjoying what I conclude to be the best thing in my life

And hands in time, and feet in space, I used to watch you putting on your watch but never checking it because you always knew what the moment was

My cupcake is gone, and it has been for a little while, but at least I still rememeber the taste, and I have pain in my teeth as a reminder to a memory I'll never forget

I'm sitting on a break, and im breaking

I only want you to come back to me
When a love goes bad, I only miss my cupcake
mystique Apr 2016
i find myself unable to sleep,
crippled.
lost
confused
this anxiety riddles me with questions
memories
& fears.

i rememeber the first time you touched me
i felt needed
i felt at ease
i felt comforted
your hands felt like home
your words sounded like a song
i felt alive.
i felt love,
or atleast, what i thought to be love.

why did i find home in your hands?
why did your hands offer me a place my father never did?
why did my fathers hands feel like foreign land
and his voice sound like an empty room?
i found missing pieces of my father in you
in your touch
   your voice
   your laugh

the moments of touch felt like pleasure unleashed
but when you would leave
i would cry and try to scrub,
scrub my sins away
scrub my hate away
scrub the distaste away
scrub my own skin away,
because it felt foreign.

why did i find pleasure in sin?
why did i find joy in the pits of hell?
why?

why are you here again,
touching me.
loving me
searching for a release in me.

i should have said no,
but i never knew how to turn down love
or what looked like it.
Words
words to say
words to say for those who possess a quiescent soul
vibrations forming into susurrus breathes,
spun by Love.
Love is an oxymoronic, overly celebrated,
seemingly sempiternal happening that is eternally ephemeral,
lasting
a
very
short
t
i
m
e.
Love speaks with words that no matter how
dis-joint-ed
sound wonderfully euphonious -
a sonic euphoria
a billet-doux made from absolutely nothing
but
the very
rawness
of being absolute.
Love is a little more than
chimerical.
Love is a clinquant aubade that requires redamancy.

redamancy.

Love requires love to exist in it's eternal shortness,
to exist
in the mere seconds that are allowed
to exist in the ephemeral time frame of a blip in space
of decades and decades that no one will rememeber and that will not matter to the masses
and
will mean
absolutely nothing to everyone else except
for the one that is awake enough to look directly at
Love.
Quiescent - a quiet, soft-spoken soul.
Chimerical - merely imaginary; fanciful.
Susurrus - a whispering or rustling sound.  
Clinquant - glittering; tinsel-like.
Aubade - a song greeting the dawn.
Ephemeral - lasting a very short time.
Sempiternal - everlasting; eternal.
Euphonious - pleasing; sweet in sound.
Billet-doux - a love letter.
Redamancy - act of loving in return.
I remember looking out my window
Deep into the night sky
And wishing on those stars
And even praying to God
I remember whispering
How I loved you
And I'd even blow a kiss
Hoping that somehow
It'd reach you
I remember talking into my hand
Or whispering to my stuffed animal
Telling them how much I missed you
And how much I needed you back
I remember trying not to feel my aching heart
Because thats all it did without you
Ache
And I remember that one day
Nearly two years later
That we once again became friends
And I rememeber that not too long after
We kissed
And our souls
Were once again reunited
And now I see
How true it is
When I say
Your all I need
And all I will ever need
And I'm so happy
All my wishing
All my prayers
All my hopes
Have come true.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
it all makes sense after a beer and a whiskey, honestly, as honest as is this statement, i'm only a misogynist with regards to white girls, who i find so, so adequate for feministic fickleness that they could never produce 1 billion blue indians or 1 billion chinese.

i tell you how it started, i was at university,
first year i met this french psychology exchange
student, she was older than me,
she got drunk at one party and crawled into my bed,
when i climbed and felt frisky,
she just told me to put a ****** on,
prior to she was stiff watching some cartoon
by studio ghibli, man i was young and frisky
about loose the white of virginity and enter
the blackness of personal psychologies
passing via the rainbow of the visible world,
it didn't work out with isabel, we climbed
arthur's seat and took a picture
while she scolded me for napoleon
and the duchy of warsaw as the re-emergence
of poland but missed marquis de sade's picture
hanging on the wall... who's sick then,
the one who pleases the many or the one who
displeases a few?
plato's picture also hanged on the wall...
she was oblivious to the fact that an 8 year old
child can be categorised as a native speaker,
because that's when i started my anglo oral examination
to speak it.
later i spotted her after my first session with a bottle
of whiskey in lycra, going to the initiation ceremony
for the lacrosse team... i never joined... i just puked
into a bucket.
you never realise that when people label themselves:
i'm an atheist... i'm a christian... i'm a muslim...
i'm agnostic... you see the labels... you see how
they rememeber of themselves in terms of nanometres?
they kept their memory very cancerous...
the proto-socratic maxim in modern times
stands as: remember yourself, knowing nothing
is worth the existence of an encyclopedia -
feel and make the facts absentee...
just remember yourself as some point in your life
to re- re- repeat yourself so i can known you
as i can know myself, just so we can interact
like in a school playground... if you don't...
forget it... stay with your ***** **** stiches of a partner
and tell me whether your children got an a
at a-level.
so he told me about her eagerness for *** with
strangers... she was apparently abducted...
so he told me he ****** her... believing him...
not getting enough... i went to a brothel in my second year,
and i didn't really understand the emotions of
someone who's ~******* outside a brothel,
well she really did let that one rip among one of the
major proofs of solispsism: someone farted in a crowded
space and appreciated by himself alone,
all the perfume companies who even hired
the best chemists could produce the scent of solipsism,
therefore the proof of solipsism: we appreciate our own
but loath the ****-burp of others; hey, i just took
all the theories of existentialism into hades via ****.
but that's the thing - back when darwinism was
active, active enough to build pyramids, motto active:
strength multiplied by ****... back then...
chaos known as god entered and said this that
and the other... we can now say democracy is safe...
demo tapes everywhere, half complete scripts...
but the limit of democracy comes when
you start to disagree with yourself... that's the limit...
obviously a high proportion of people
succumbed to the democratic weakness
and started to disagree with themselves or
the ontological starting point and ventured into
ethical questions to give birth to conscience...
first year was magical, second year had a highlight
where me and this guy played golf on the street
with glasses, smashing them next to a graveyard...
about a dozen jewish couples got married
when we took over stomping the glass with golf sticks...
so it's like this, make memory as selective as nature is,
as bizarre as the colour of magpies and parrots...
plus... you wouldn't get existentialism
if you changed the cartesian expression that
thought precipitates into existence...
sarte's explanation that existence comes prior to essence
is true, he stresses the essence: i think,
but existence doesn't really precipitate into thought,
because then we're all analogue: god doesn't exist
because of such and such parasite...
this world is beautiful but harsh, but with harshness
comes adventure and with beauty laziness...
what's crucial is to curb the precipitation of thought
into existence... unless you innovate and materialise
a telescope or paracetamol... for the majority of us
the one thing guiding us is not res cogitans,
but res vanus... not the thinking thing, but the empty thing,
and the empty thing is primarily filled
with the first linear association, thought, and later
being - which is why most of us think about being millionaires
but never are... and therefore create the lottery,
then we put our thinking into to being millionaires
as a mere chance, luck... which is really emotionally debilitating.
i agree... an unjust world of freedom with a just god
who's whimsical existence has freedom like ours...
rather than a just world of slavery with an unjust
god who plays us like puppets;
go on, complain... but that's hardly a logic i wish i could
understand like 1 + 1.
Bre Steele Feb 2013
empty rooms, with walls of mold and smoke
fridges with wine and beer
the halls are littered with empty nights and bottles
work filled days
drunken stumbling nights

we live in a bubble you say
an empty bubble with nothing but liquor soaked emotions
and stress filled minds

please come make something real again
please take me to your single bed and give me something to hold onto
dont mind my craziness, and wine breath
ignore my empty cigarettes packs
and my faded suntan and freckles

i just wanna sleep in nothing
be my warmth
dont let me fade into the bubble

take me out into the world
show me all ive been looking for
remind what ive forgotten ive lost
show me the mountains ive missed
and the grass i used to lie in
rememeber when
i was good at something
that didnt mean sick in the morning

but you saw the faded suntan and the freckles
you saw my empty cigarette packs and tasted my wine breath
so now ill fade back to where youll never find me
in my liquor soaked dreams
I miss Buffalo Bill and Jersey Lil'
Jesse James among other names
Like Hopalong and Big John Wayne
Cooper,Cagney and,
What's that Indians name?
Oh yes
Cochise.
The man of war, the man of peace.

Jimmy Dean and Johnny Ray
Otis,Sammy and Doris day all yesterday
And yet
I bet there's no one quite like them
Not like Borgnine,Heston or Glen Ford.
Rememeber West and Ward
The caped crusaders
Or Roy Thinnes and the Martian Invaders?

I miss them all
The magic of the casting call and Lucille Ball.
Where did they go?
Moved on no doubt to another show and more greasepaint
Ain't life dull Without it full
Of these great stars.
Katrina Jul 2013
Paper, pen, paper, pen here we are again. unable to meet cuz there is too much to write. Lost in my mind about life. Struggling with always wanting what I cant have. never knowing if that path less traveled by is right.

Sitting here as the sun shines on scars of years past. Small little reminders of the pain endured.
lessons learned.
   tears shed.
Relaxing, thinking "what if". dreaming dreams outta reach just to keep hope.

A million obstacles to overcome in life. with so many choices to make to put yourself where you want to be.
Attempting to keep faith that in the end you'll end up where you're meant to be.
Who you're meant to be.
All of which can happen if you rememeber life will pass you by if you dont accept it.

If your heart breaks,
Life goes on.
If you loose a job,
Life goes on.
If you fail school,
Life goes on.

The world has gone this long without you. But there is always room to join.
First you have to try.
try to change
try to take a chance.
try to be happy with the choices youve made and will make.
You just gotta try.
life. Chances. changes. choices
It's only when your alone do we forget what a true pain in the *** people tuely are.
Maybe for some it's just missing waking up next to warm body your face burried deep within her hair.

Others may be something altogather different and for others it is a true friendship far beyond a cheap **** it's the laughter i miss.
Thoose moments I took for granted i guess it's just her I miss.

It was nine years of hell mixed with touches of heaven.
I had tried to erase the memorie with gallons of ***** and cheap flings
Forgettible faces *** can be empty at times and can do more dammage than we know.

The bar that sits only a few paces from her door is still there.
The places all the same yet they seem cold as I am no longer welcome there
Or was it just me and a paranoid refletion.
portsmouth is a strange place indeed where on one side of the street are people sitting outside in the summer sipping cocktails eating overpriced meals.
and right across the street people wait in line at the soup kitchen.

niether group looks towards the other like the old color lines during the times in america we'd all like to forget guilt is a ***** indeed.

Still no matter the problems in this world it always goes back to are own simple lives why you may ask?

Cause we cant solve the worlds problems and thoose who belive they can seem.
to have this habbit of always getting shot.
So here I sit in thumpers the local yuppie bar I used to look at from her window.

the view was a lot better  from her place but the drinks are a lot better here.

Do I miss her?
Yes.
Will I knock on her door tonight and beg her for her love like some desperate love struck fool?
No. I just sit here get drunk talk to some woman and if I'm lucky get laid close my in the mist of passion and pretend it's her.

Maybe I'm a coward but I'm  also a man and we all need that contact even if for only for one night.
If only I could reverse that view maybe then I'd just sit there and remember just what a pain in the *** she was.  

And rememeber why I'm in this goddamed bar to start with.
So I'll drink to her in my seat by the window underneath the neon sign.
And pretend that my life was misery with her so I can stand this crap i'm  living now.

Women are the worst drug you'll ever know.
But ****** there fun and I'll die befor I leave em alone.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
it's, well, it's a bit boring to be part of this sometimes... what with insomnia new york, london, whatever.... i feel not allegiance to give my ***** a sprout of waiting to be, a fully functioning human: nurtured into a fathomable presence, to be later ******-about like a ping-pong... if huamnity had a deserter, a Judas, i'd be him, i feel absolutely no allegiance to this: man = animal, i feel no existential threat, nor bias... i feel no basis to keep an argument, to be honest, the current argument just makes me express sentiments of acquiring the darwinism of dodo... i can't, just stage, a necessary continuum... it's not that i feel lost and want to continue... it's that i am lost, and don't want to! who the hell am i to suggest for implanting me with this ghost of apathy? me?! so i mastu-***** myself into feeling it? colonialism, right? i didn't cut off my *******, right?! i can't be bothered, i am vomitting on darwinistic arguments, because, well, i can't sorta feel them... and given the numbers, i don't really care that i see them... seeing a tapeworm would gratify me more than seeing some loon John Smith take out a load of garbage... as you do. no, not really... what's being described is hardly a prescription, i don't feel it, and i hardly want to live in it and be aged 70... what you said isn't, and never will be: a postcard... i will never want to live in this anglophone ****-pile of faked-hope... it's actually a shame that i live in this language-sphere, i'd be better off in Mongolia scribbling quasi-Mandarin... i literally have no impetus to compete... i must be a half-baked monkey... but you know... you watch enough Renaissance painters, and you watch enough ****... being given the beginning with a monkey's hairy ***... you sorta need to lose the plot, had there ever been one to begin with.*

i mean when the gensis of the senses being dimmed,
and the origin of thought...
   for the senses to reveal a moral cursor,
a moral dimension...
   before the big bang, what came into our world
most debilitating... thinking...
   a case for making choices, and a reality
of moral agency...
           it's beyond the big bang and darwinism
replicating boo boo skeletons equipped with
a middle-class wives...
            it's when our senses became so *******
blunt and ineffective that a "sixth sense"
had to be established, that we countered running
away from a tiger to playing football...
         and running from a tiger
  was nothing... nothing! compared to jogging...
   what's the date of that beginning?
oh right... no date...
the genesis of thought, and the moral agent,
begins with us experiencing less and less
sensually invigorating anti-ego tsunamis...
     given that we were, literally pulverised by
sensual stimuli for such a long time,
   that for such a long time our medium was
sensually based, biased,
  that we heard so much than we wanted to heart,
sore so much more than we wanted to see...
    and had no need for narrative,
or an internalised moral code,
or thought...
                  we are experiencing the exhausting
end, or the banality of thought,
personally: i think the existence of thought
is banal, it gave us god...
         thankfully we are exhausting thought,
thereby succumbing to populace atheism...
thereby returning to sensual gravity...
            pulverised by the 5, rather than a single,
establishing plateau sixth...
         i rather prefer thinking about
the theory concerning: first thought
rather than the big bang...
   ever hear a bang in vacuum?
so what the ****?!
   when we first started thinking, and went against
the brutality of nature...
           and became more brutal than nature...
    i don't believe in heaven, or in hell,
but as an emotionally biased being
i like to think of both...
before i translate either case as a thought
before encouraging: die groß schlaf.
    
origin:              

they make the grave
a fastinating place,
the crowd really does,
the crowd really  makes so much
of an insistence or d'uh or applause.,
      i mean, it really antagonises
the people...
like the time i thought i was: sprechen deutsche...
but wasn't, and it was cool,
because i was kinda Sax and anti Schwab...
and a bit like bot: hope you don't rememeber
the Holocaust..
so i became transgender,
and, also, trans-phobic,
                so said: pronoun neutral!
and yes:
       the grave,
it's a necrophilia i wish i had,
the cold of Februay,
you allow me misery, i allow
yours, you deny mine:
    i'm sorta alive against my wish,
       and i sorta wish i wasn't,
bound to spend 5 - 7 in a restaurant
with you...
  cos you're just cutting up
my blues...
          no, you're cool,
if i was in need of an ice-cube...
      so yeah, you're cool...
  a ******* iceberg of wanting clues....
  chat chat and the crush,
if i make it to the medium of crazy-speak
with you, and i don't **** you,
you're lucky...
            i mean: i wasn't as ****** up
as you wanted me to be...
                 i guess listening
to metallica leaves you ****** up
after a while...
so is there a need to compare?
   i don't think so.
        it just happens after a while,
you sorta hear the whale's groan
and strart to mimick the groan...
   cave and ocean...
           an echo in an ocean...
      vibrations in water,
vibrations signatured into metal...
     apparently it's only as fascinating
as it is, that we dare to ****
  beyond encouraging politics
   and a gravity leading toward social
stratas and concepts of class...
   my... find me a masturbator content
with his hand being a ****...
and i'll find you an oyster! quicker!
Sadolecent Dec 2014
Daddy, why are you hitting me?
It really hurts now, can't you see?
you are putting me in pain,
these secrets I hold I can't contain.
I am only four
there goes another glass you pour.
put the bottle down,
get yourself together, stop acting like a clown.
I just wanted your love, but my heart has a different kind of beating.
The kind of beating that's physical and full of shame,
daddy I am done playing this game.
who's that girl, what happened to mommy?
as you are seducing that girl right here in front of me.
I see your done too...
you move away
to become "clean" so to say.
those new kids of yours, sure love their dad.
do they know about the past you have had?
you don't hit them like you hit me?
you don't drink or smoke like you did when I was three.
I just wanted your love and affection
but you give it to someone else, why make corrections?
Do you still remember me, rememeber us?
the wife and kids you left in the dust?
Daddy, why'd you have to leave me...
leave me with this secret I can't tell anybody.
Mommy doesn't suspect a thing,
I am keeping the secret like you told me.
but if anybody asks,  I shall tell.
about the time I lived in hell.
This is a true story about what happened to me as a child. I don't want any pitty. just don't say anyhing about it.
Rebel Heart Nov 2017
We all know the story of the tooth fairy..
She'd leave a gift under your pillow
In exchange for taking your lost tooth
A perfect trade, A perfect dream, A perfect fantasy
My first lost tooth?- Not so perfect

You see I never saw your fist hurling towards my face
The hands that held me so close as a baby
Now became a tool of your aggression.
I just wanted to tell you good night...
To tell you everything would be okay

Because through your silent glares and late night yells,
I saw the tear of despair roll down your face...
I saw how broken you must've been
Underneath the weight of the world
Drowning your stress in bottles
Of what you called "your medicine"

All I ever wanted was to make sure you knew
How much I still loved you
Despite how many times you hurt mommy
All I ever wanted was to make sure you knew
How much I still cared
And that you were going to be okay...
We would be okay.

We could take our bikes out again
Ride down the street and dance in the rain
You could take me to our favorite park
Where I would be the superhero and save you
From the sand monster in the sand box
Then we'd go get some pizza
And watch the sun dip below the waves
The angels, you said, would paint the sky for us
And we'd ride our bikes back to the place we called home
You and mommy would tuck me in at night
And kiss me on the forehead to tell me
That I'd always be loved...
That it would all be okay

Instead,
I went in for a hug
And you punched me in my face.
You
Punched Me
In my face
....
The one person I ever trusted
The one person I ever loved
Was the reason I had blood on my lips
For the first time I could rememeber

You didn't flinch
So I didn't cry
But seven years later
I'm still stuck wondering why
You took away the happiness I was supposed to feel
When I lost my first tooth
And replaced it with this monstrous nightmare of you

Because the next morning I woke up and realized
The tooth fairy never came
To grant my one wish of being happy with you
And every morning after that I woke to realize
The tooth fairy was a fantasy
And so was my childhood happiness with you

-To: My First Heartbreak
Not a poem but a gem I found hiding in the files back from 2010... The writing prompt this was born from was interesting and so reading this 'response' was a little surprising and interesting. I doubt this was shared then but I teared up reading it so enjoy because I'm sharing it for RH now! It wasn't given a title so if you could suggest one it would be appreciated ~BM
Life and cigarettes burn to fast.
We waste are time.
So within the moment you bask.

A pretty face has to age.
Every story meets  it's final page.
When life breaks you over its cost.
Then you'll sing a lullaby to the lost.

The lights in the street hide all but the truth my
dear.
You can act.
But you can never mask your  fear.

In dark rooms you sell all but your soul.
A wicked moment a stolen encounter.
All things take there toll.

That sweet face has tuirned hard your so warm
to be cold.
A secret that the bitter have already told.

Can you wash away there stench as from
the past you are tossed.
In dark corners blood stained angles
sing a lullaby  to the lost.

Is this hell or a nightmare  that knows no end.
A cell to most.
To others the only refuge inwhich they
can depend.

she falls to the floor a lost look needle  
in arm.
Most will rememeber a doomed fool.
Others her wreckless charm.

She was  a ******  and a easy lay.
More bones are broken.
Over words others say.

She sold flesh but payed the ultimate
cost.
In a dingy corner of th world.
Were the angles sing a lullaby to the lost.
j Jul 2013
I had a dream
and we were back
lying on that field
in the middle of nowhere
     but this time it was just
     me and you
and you wrapped
that big blue blanket (and yourself)
around me
and I held you close
and you told me
what really possesses your mind
and it wasn't me
and I don't know what else I expected


but I rememeber your kiss
so fondly
and I remember
your drunken touch
and I do miss you
and I do love you
and I do know that I can never have you


why do my own dreams
haunt me like this
why are you the only thing
occupying my mind
Dallas Allen May 2013
we pay for freedom in blood and bone.
the lives of our soldiers, not only soldiers humans like you and me
and we treat them like s**t for following orders and them remember them in stone
when will we stand up and support them? when will we leave them be?
they make to the choice to pay for our freedom with there blood and bones
and yet we are ungrateful, i will rememeber your soldiers, and it won't be in stone
i wrote this because i was thinking back on the typical response civilians have towards soldiers, this is not meant to offend anyone
Fenix Flight Jan 2015
Wooden structure that plagues my mind
I sit and watch them tear you down
Rip up your swing set, crush your slide
It's all to much I just want to cry

You were the one my grammy took me too
My cousins And I ran around your grounds
Our laughter now haunts your gravesite

They said you were getting too old
creaking dangerously and giving kids splinters
Parents were yelling at you left and right
But I rememeber you in all your glory

You're tire swing and glimming slides
the "wave" bridge and the little cubby holes
The ones that were perfect for hide and seek games.

But now you are gone,
torn down and thrown away
Crazy colored plastic now resides
where you once stood so tall

Even though you are gone
You will never be forgotten
The joy you brought will forever be treasured
written for a writing promt from the poetry club I am in
Prompt was:A place from your past or childhood, one that you are fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial!
Veronica clark Oct 2018
What I see throughout time
Is people fighting
People not getting along
Not willing to admit
When they have done wrong

War is never good
It's not a winable  fight
Striving to succeed
Striving for what is right

It kills people
Like nothing ever before
It takes more life's
Then a gangster war

It takes innocent souls
It makes us a matter
It fuels the fire
Like wood
With a gas starter

In the name of justice
We go into other lands
We put our noses in it
Just to make a stand

In the end
It is always the same
It is not always the one that starts it
That is the one to blame

So what do we do
What do we say
To the lost soul of a child
That stood in the guns way

I am sorry son
Its not your fault
We are just doing our job
To get the bad ones caught?

Talking makes more action
Then a gun in the hand
Rememeber that next time
When you enter someone elses land

We cannot fight
The unwinable battle
Because in the end it proves nothing
Like a horse without a saddle

We send our loved ones
Not knowing the cost
The price is more then a penny
Because our loved ones become

Lost
Teach me to love you right
So that I can love you best
Teach me to how to fight
So you can worry less

Teach me to care for you
By caring for me too
This mutual thing we do
It is what binds us two

Teach me to crave you more
So that I'll miss you when I bore
Teach me to hate you more
So that I can love you forevermore

Teach me to entirely forget
What and where broken hearts went
Teach me to rememeber sorrows, so I can cry myself wet
Teach me to smile for tomorrow, so I can laugh at memories when we met

Teach me to say goodbye
To you dear my heart still flies
Teach me never to pass by
So I can keep going on, 'til this heartache dies
I dunno if I posted this again or what. I found it in my FB page.
RazanSidErani May 2016
They left him there. On the open fields of misery. He didnt even know how to spell his name. The doubts and anger clouded his brain. He was just so angry. They brought him ashore and then they just left him there. It didnt make sense to him. Was it something he didnt do. For he couldnt rememeber why he deserved their tourture. They left him there and he didnt even know how to spell his name.
TyRon Straughter Oct 2010
It's been plenty of times that I thought about you.
This is just to let you know I haven't forgot about you.
I hope you haven't forgot about me because I wouldn't be the man that they see, not without you.
I still rememeber the day we first meet.
I remember our first kiss better than my first breath.
And before you love seemed worthless but after you it all seems worth it.
On the road to the next you gave me these high beams
You're the reason for this wordplay and rhyme scheme.
Somehow you caused all of the red in my eyes and by surprise you were also my visine.
Now I don't have a destination so I need no GPS
But my favorite drug is affection and their is no CVS
But notice how I've yet to run
The best of me has yet to come
But when it does you still gon have it
If not then I fear you'll grab it.
But the first time you did it ended so tragic
But the force that connects us must mirror that of a magnet
Going back is clearly not an option though
Because breaking my heart was very optional
Yet you chose the road of a murderer by trying to **** my soul but you only put it in the hospital.
Since that day I still haven't made a full recovery
Now I got other girls out here loving me
But an injury sustained heart can only have so much to give which in turn makes not wanna speak on any of this publicly
With all this uttered and said
Hopefully this composition doesn't go over your head
Just know that I'll still love you for eternity and Ill find the heart to forgive you for all that you've done before I'm over and dead
betterdays Oct 2014
old.... still,
kind,  
strength steps in,  
new paradigms to be created
all in long, past passion

yet still able,
yet ever will able,
to grow wisdom,


they...out there beyond
find new a rythmn
and  purpose
is it to be....

on all varigated,
arangements..... a new twist
perhaps....
some order, to the paradox
of the aboves.

what our...
never-ever-never world
should be,
we are a realm of
be all, end all, have all.

elephant's, we are to faded parchment memories.
the  mouse within,
loves a quiet,
realm of the wise....  
and careful, considered...
thought

but you...you....
fall beneath the thunder
of my steps...
in vain attempts,
to gain insight into
the hyperbole of my elephant's spinning dance

and the back scratching monkey's  never silent thought's
initiating as they be,
into the colour spectrum
of the latest...
popular...populace, fearful fancy.

be quiet as needs be,
says the mouse
the world will...
awake to wisdom,

spend fruitful time...
awaiting the calm to break

never is it above strength
allowed
the roles, the gifts,
we are given.

be  in on the  elephant's  new rythmn
and far above the monkeys purile, speculation

need, need, needs,rememeber awlays... quiet, desperate passion,  
and to fall gently
beneath the winds of change

be, find, do,
the extra-ordinary
see the kindness in the eyes
of all you encounter
and unfailingly,
return
the hopeful glace

burn, burn the oldest order
set the worlds,
infinite whorls......aright

and then
sing the stars
to sleep...
in the purple,
winkled, wrinkled hours
of the calm and pristine
shadowed span of the night.
Crystal Apr 2018
MY UNCLE
You werent related by blood
But related by love
You made me laugh
But now youre making me cry
You left your life
Hanging on that rope last night
Im holding back these tears
Not wanting to get red blotchy patches
I dont want my sisters to see
because they dont like you very much
Because of some of the silly things you have done
Shut in my room
Thinking about the times
WE would be play fighting
You would pin me to the ground
Tickle me until I was in pain from laughing so much
i rememeber
When it was hot
The sun shining bright
You would get smart at me
And I would be smart back
You would pick me up
And throw me in the pool
I would try splash you
But fail
the time it was the night before christmas
And you came home from shopping late for your children
And got me to help wrap the girts
We woke
Not expecting anything form you
But you got us gorgeous earrings
I know it was little
But it meant alot
And IM holding back
Not letting these water warks
Fall from my eyes
Uncle
I miss you
And I know youve done bad
BUt youve done good too
Protected my mum
Had everyones bacl
Helped others out
Raised to little boys
But they now have to live with their mother
She wont look after them
Not the best home
But its their mother
But uncle
I love you
No matter what
I hope your having fun now
Happy
Watching your boys
Watching everyone
We love you
This is a poem I wrote about my uncle who killed himself last night. It broke my heart and my mums. Yep..
charmaine Sep 2015
I spend most of my time alone.

I take all of the day
going over what makes me, me.
And what has made me, me.

I go over any memory my mind has
experienced, collected and preserved.

I pick them apart,
I try to see what when wrong
when I didn't walk away,
and what could've happened had I said no.

I pick apart the bad memories,
the memories that caused me pain,
and still do today.

I study them.
I cry over them,
I sometimes cut over them.

I rememeber the bad memories more than the good ones.
The bad memories seem to live
just below the surface,
while the good memories
I have to search a whole ocean for.

I question myself on this preservation of pain.
I let it sleep on my shoulders
and darken my eyes.
I let it enjoy me,
enjoy every piece of me.


I spend most of my time alone.

Sometimes I make no sense at all.

But to the memories inside me
that make me me
that controls every part
comes in pieces

pieces of me.
jewel Jul 2020
Does it hurt? Your chest? At night when the lights go out, and the silence creeps in. Do you remember me? Do you rememeber my touch on your skin, my lips pressed to yours? Do you long for me in your sheets once more? Do you? Or have you let another women trace over me. Have you erased the feeling of my lips with the kiss of another. Have you baptized yourself in the screams of a blonde haired beauty as she calls out your name so you can't hear the sobbing in my voice wailing for your love.

Can you see me, Love? When you shut your eyes, do you see my face, long for my embrace, wish you could forget what I meant to you. But what did I mean to you? Did it break your heart to watch me beg for you to stay. How long have you been okay with the thought of losing me. When did your heart forget our love, when did you stop wanting my touch, when did I become someone you could let go. And I know you're never coming back. I just haven't found away to accept t hat. How do I accept that?

Tell me your secret to falling out of love. I'd rip my heart from its cage if you told me it'd ease the pain. Anything to numb the feeling of knowing you're leaving. Soul searching for your soul in the eyes of another. But I don't see you, I don't see you, I just want to feel you. When his lips touched mine, it didn't jumpstart my heart. You've left every aspect of life drenched with your being. I see you in everything. You're haunting me, and taunting me. But it's all in my head, right? Just wake me up. I don't like this nightmare anymore, I'm over it. Just hold me and tell me it's all going to be okay. Tell me you're going to stay.

Even though I see your hearts checked out, leaving in a taxi cab to some new girls pad, this isn't home anymore. The elephant in the room is me. Losing sleep over a guy who doens't want me, but the whole world wants me, just not you. And I don't know what to do. I just keep falling back to you. Lost in a maze of pain, screaming your name, but it'll never be the same again. I just want it all to end. If I don't have you, I have nothing. Nothing worse surviving for. Not anymore, not without you, my Love.
I very recently just went through a breakup with my boyfriend of 2 years. He is, and was the love of my life. The reasons in which we split wasn't due to any faults of our own. Which made this even harder and more painful. These were just some of my thoughts one night when I couldn't sleep. Hope you enjoy.
Nobody Sep 2019
I find it harder and harder to wake up  in the morning not because im lazy or I dont want to go to school. Its solely because im tired; tired of opening my eyes and realizing that Im still here  that i havent been granted my single wish from that one person we call "god". That i have to live through another day in the dark abyuss you call home. I never wanted this life, to be this *******- montser my own mother hides away in her closet, I long for the day i can be happy.  Where i can feel love for the first time. I dont belong here. You see the other day while you all slept, I stayed awake. Its nothing unusal on my part. I live in the dark, sad and alone. Its where ive always been, all ive ever known. That night, this darkness was deeper than before as i sat on my bed and cried my nightly tears I stared into the darkness, looking for my hands Until i rasied them and the tiny sliver of light from my window reflected off my old trusted friend. The cold rusted piece of metal felt right in my hands. It gave me this happiness ill never understand. I shine the glare on my upper leg the lines of dispointment and shame show- themselfs as i read through them; Oh the story they tell.  I know what they all mean I remember every scar and why they lay upon my skin, its a sad story they hold. This one right here the crooked small one Thats the one that started it all. Or this one The wide long dark one twords the end The day i found out i was nothing more than a usless bag of roting flesh to her, that i'll be alone forever.  Thats the one ill never forget Because even to this day I rememeber her sweet soft voice yell at me in the middle of the lunch line to leave her alone. As much as i dont want to remember, no amount of alcohol can fill in the gap she left open Each and every line i read gets me into this rage i cant control Wanting to blame everyone for my problems but i know i caused them myself. I squeze that thin sheet of happiness in my fist and i feel this pain race up my arm  When i let go, my palm is full of this beautiful liquid that remind me im still human. To you it might not seem like much  But to those who understand that unwriten languge you read in the blood "If only this was enough to end your pain, im sorry im insifishant" Its morning now These thoughts have held me back from being happy for once. What is there to do now? Nothing. I have to wait my turn again Oh well, im already used to the feeling of disapointment. I clean myself off in the bathroom right before i look into the mirror. Theres no way to decribe that feeling you get when you look in your eyes and see all the wrong youve ever done.  "Its late, they'll wake up soon" i tell myself  under my breath. I rush to my phone and open to the screen shot of the day i got a taste of what love is. I reread the single reply over and over in my mind before i hear the russle of blankets from the thing my mother decribes as her only son that lays a sleep less than a foot from my bed. "I...i love you"  I try to remember the sound her mouth made as she studered that phrase. " Its time "  I get up from my soon to be death bed and put on my mask before anyone sees The same mask i made myself several years ago. Theres cracks and chips, yes But thats what makes it so uniqe. People try peaking into see my hell. So I do what any scared human would do, push them away. So far they give up and walk away. Im at school, its lunch. I open the door leading into the stair well and i see her. My last hope  Right before she sees me, i count  1...2...3 I remove my mask and hide it  Im shaking shes the first to see whats under. All the years of lonelines will hopefully end today when i show her my heart. Sadly They didnt. They seemed to get lonelier now  "Ding, ding" I dont want to go home I see her car outside waiting for me I feel the vibration in my pocket , I know its her.  I walk slowly down those steps leading to the front.  As i open the door to the outside theres this hope that flutters in my heart the hope i get to see her one last time before i go.  My puples dilate and the sudden blindness fades away  Only to show nobody there. Im "home" now. Theres nothing i can do anymore I just wait here for my time to come.  Its bed time already and i open back to the picture "I...i love you" Thats all i need. The sounds began to fade into the dark  I see her.  No more than a arm away theres nothing around but us. I watch her lips move "I...i love you"  I hear her more vivid than ever tonight. My eyes slowly open Instintly tears rush down the side of my face landing onto the pillow. And so it begans again..
I wish you felt the same again, that we were together in the end.
Carlos Reyes Dec 2014
Sing that sweet song i use to know
you know the way you did when we met
but sing it just as it was
and not what it has become.
over the years the melody has changed
And the rythm a little off
I haven't forgot it,
I hope you haven't either
But if you can't rememeber
it is ok,
the metronome will always Tick
to remind us how beautiful
that sweet song was
mojdeh Jul 2016
Once upon a time I rememeber a face & heart
A plain girl with an ordinary face
Not beautiful as much as  others are
Her eyes was full of lights
Somepeople may call  It love
Someother  may thinking that she had  a hope In her heart.
She sat  lonely on her chair.
She had  a sweet smile on her face
Her black eyes was   the shiny pearls
Lighting like a beautiful black dress

She was  shy & hide her heart
In the most hidden parts
She was an angel without wings



She was  there to drew her world not like others
But like her own
But then a storm came one day,
There was a place  where love then came.
She was not that  girl anymore.
Love put Itś spells on her
Something was changed she knew It well.
Love put Itś spell on her
DustBall Mar 2015
You shock me
With your caring demeanor
That no one has any more
You clear everything
In my eyes when I look at you
The fog goes away and I rememeber
Everything I need too when I'm with you
You take everything
That doesn't make sense
So you can figure it out and share
To make sure I know it too
Your crazy vocabulary
Is what I live for
You and I
We need each other
More than anyone realizes

— The End —