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September Roses Nov 2017
Rot
My soul has started to rot
Charred black by the flame of heartbreak
Cold as the night you left
I don't think I'm breathing anymore
The feeling of dread carried in with the wind through every open window
Every shadow whispers your name
I feel myself fading as fast as you left
I don't feel the drive and passion anymore
My happy place has crumbled to dust, broken fragments of reality
The air I breath poisons my lungs as I fall faster and faster into the hellish hole that appears on every path
My heart as empty as the canyons that used to make me feel free
My breath as cold as the pouring rain that used to send me to sleep
My soul as rotten as the core of the witches apple
The witch that has cursed me
Cursed me with the boulders I carry on my shoulders
Cursed me to lie when I say I'm fine
Truly and honestly made for poetry not of reality
September Roses Oct 2017
To watch one suffer
To be there as they slowly fall to the rubble
You reach out but as the tides pull in they go further and further from hope
From comfort
A never ending spiral they're falling your fingers slipping through theirs as you let them go
It isn't your fault but blood still runs
And you still remember
Skaidrum Jun 2015
-



Lead dripping from
empty sockets,
a clock hissed in serpent hours,
it's venom oozing from the crystal walls

it's 4 a.m. you insomnia lunatic.

I'm too busy admiring,
how the man in the moon slithered through
these blinds on my soul-swept window.

That night I was a canvas,
as the moonlight stripped my arm raw of shale,
and tinted my skin with

silvertongue.

And when he was finished,
tiger stripes tattooed my thinning vessel.


-
When I can't sleep I leave myself
the stupidest of poetry.

© Copywrite
Adilson Smith Apr 2018
I once saw a ruffian young
A would be brute
At home, no doubt,
In the grubby grecian clubs
So unworthy of their legacy.

The tilt of chin, and cocksure slant of eye
Told of a life most lived
In unimpressed contempt.
But then he met his girl, and,

The crafted affect cracked like plaster;
No more the aping swagger
Nor the bumptious over pluck
Instead,

An unhid grin.
And an unhid soul.
And the rapid intuition
Peculiar to lovers.
#love
Tila Jul 6
Tomato tomato

You’re green and fresh,
Potential to grow into a sweet fruit,
The soil you started in was not the best
Someone moved you, watered you and let you grow,
They care as best they could but your vines are  twisted all around your post,
You still feel strong and you continue to grow,

Tomato tomato

Your green face is now blushing,
You’re starting to ripen,
As you grow, so do your leaves,
Twisting new sprouts,
You feel the strain,
But you feel strong and you continue to grow,

Tomato tomato

You are red all over,
You look ready to eat,
But with that hue I decide to let you go just a little longer,
You’ll  have your bit of acidity but you’ll still be sweet,

Tomato tomato

Your vines have covered our dear post,
And I may have left you too long,
You’re barely hanging on,
You’re almost rotten.
This was supposed to be out of anger but it’s not so angry. It ended up kind of just being about the person growing up and how I guess some of that ****** up **** ****** him up.
writerReader Jan 2015
i hear her
crackle and her
cackle and her
clomping and
her stomping and
i feel her
silver hair and
her
rotten
air
Skaidrum May 2015
.
Ah, but do you want to know my secret?
I draw with cold and unbeautiful silver,

& it comes out red.



Magic?


Oh?  You want to hear a story?
I wanted to write exactly how I felt,
But I left the page,

                        b l a n k.

    

And I couldn’t have described,

                    It any better,
                than that.
.
I found this in the lost pages of my rotted notebook,
thought it might find a place to belong here now.


© copywrited.
They had the luxury,
Of avoiding the unnecessary evil,
But chose to abide with penury,
The height of everything but civil.
The woes of a country must be laid at the feet of her Arrowhead. FACT.
My arms are open
Like my mind

My love is receiving
Like my heart is empty

I am as critical
As I am in search of a pinnacle

Yet I do not chase my quarry

I seem to think she will just fall unto my midst

How lazy
How repugnant
How laughable

Naive

I preach of self reflection

But caught between two mirrors of my own hypocrisy

My vileness reflects back to me.

Blinded by my selfish lust for connection with one not of my disposition

I miss the blinding double standard

I continue to lie.

To spread pseudo-self exploration

Pseudo-self understanding

So my arms may be as open as I say my mind is

And my love may be as receiving as  my heart is empty

But my soul

My soul is as yellow
As my teeth.
meGaThOr Mar 2018
rotten ones wake up in the morning
the same rotten ones will be in the store
the same rotten ones will attend the counters,
the same rotten ones will be clear,
the same rotten ones will be in the stops of the buses,
the same rotten ones will walk on the sidewalks
the same rotten ones will paint to landscapes of sour,
the same rotten ones will enter the stores,
same rotten ones will be on the supermarket shelves,
the same rotten ones will go cripples to the houses,
the same rotten ones will be at the entrance of the cafes,
the same rotten ones will be smelling badly in the streets,
the same rotten ones will be in the seats in the gardens,
the same rotten ones will make the same salads of the days,
the rotten ones of the same days, the rotten ones of always.
death, civilizatons
Dee Sep 2018
Rotting away. Just like my insides. Drying, Decaying.
Pain and suffering. Day after day... What games are the Gods playing?
I'm practically growing roots on this mattress, what debt am I paying?
There's nothing. Nothing to hold my interest anymore, the colors are all greying..
Like a feline, under the knife. Waiting in line for the spaying.
This waiting seems eternal, speed it up please, who's delaying?
I'm so tired. Exhausted. This isn't living anymore. The toll, it is weighing.
These roots are a disease, it's continuous, its spreading, the pain, it's replaying.
Make stop... I'm so tired. The walls are so haunting, is this how it's all staying?
btp May 31
Decorate yourself with glitter
Pretend you're not a throat slitter
Put           on some fancy            clothes
Stuff            up your rotting             nose
Remove the dirt from your oozing toes
Cover up the cuts      with pantyhose
Bin the decomposing embryo's
Do       what you    want,
But    what I  sup    pose
Is that it  always shows.
#ew
King Panda Sep 2015
play
parallel range of
solitary confinement
omnipotent panic linking
experience
developed underwater
predictable anger
theories of the
mind
jammed in a mason jar
left to ferment
for years near extinct
then
ahhhhhhhhhhhh…
release of the rotten
the aged and
contracted
this involuntary drama
where you call
only to say
*bye
see you later
aviisevil Sep 11
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forests breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.


no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize

malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites


just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.


spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite

caught then boxed
with no air to bite

lost and left,
kept for the nights

in transparent red
herein painted quiet


just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.


in a stranger's head
with debt of dice

where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise

seven solemn days
that'll never come twice

mourning for prey
by a mornings pride


just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise

if it wasn't for today.


kissed by the fire
shut with wire

no word nor desire
and made in ice


broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white

doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life


just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.


where beauty slays
and inferno hides

dante's meal
and a mountains might

where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet

melting the stones
and people alike


just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.


whence scars bleed
opened far wide

and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright

where words fail
to tell and describe

rotten and stale
fighting the lights


just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.


nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forest's breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.
what shall you be in paradise?
Marina Nov 2017
love,
we are either in love, falling in love, or falling out of it
there are many ways to explain the term of love.
some of us are too numb to feel any of it
so we hide underneath the covers because love is in the air

if only we can see that not all love is not all bad.
i am afraid of falling in love so i hide and decline my thoughts
i rather stay to myself than to get hurt with the emotions inside me
i learned this by encountering it
i know out there id find someone
but now is like a rotten fruit next to perfect veggies
were all just little kids looking for a beautiful someone
i don't want to hurt no more
haley Oct 2017
The trail of a wedding dress
The flower girl holds with tiny fingers
Clutches

We too hold the endless stain of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black heart
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth

The truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.
Alight,

The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease

To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
To burn
What is already charred

Today
It smells like not your favorite food for dinner
It smells like having to do your math homework
It smells like burning books
It smells like gnawing on your own skin for feast
It sounds like tired, howling machines
Spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek

Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
Nameless places
For nothing has gone without the occulent scratching hands taking hold

Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones

Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doors
Today it rains curdled crimson

Tell me shooting star
If the child liked  jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.

As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.

The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
There's a prophet on the railway
He's coming with a book
Written by a woman
And blessed by a crook
The station's been preparing
For his arrival, coming soon
He doesn't know a single person
In the town under the moon

His robes are made of velvet
And his chains out of gold
His eyes look about a hundred
Yet he's only twenty-two years old
His hands are un-calloused
With pages stapled to his chest
In his mind he believes
That he alone knows best

His name came from Berkley
But he hails from the south
His mother gave him nothing
So he found his own way out
In the dead of the night by his candlelight
He heard a voice calling him
It told to me ride north
And let the people rejoice him

On their Sunday feast he sets down his feet
In a town of simple heads
He gets on a podium
And he lifts them from their beds
He promises them redemption
He promises them the end
And with just a touch of his hand
He promises they'll be heaven sent

It's been six long years
And his statue's turning green
Just like his money
Which lights his swisher sweets
He knows his just a man
Made of flesh and rotten skin
He knows this and yet
He's the one who wins
Sonu kumar Dec 2018
girls
Are like apples
On trees.The best ones
Are at the top of the tree.
The boys don't want to reach
For the good ones because they
Are afraid of falling and gettting hurt.
Instead,they just get the rotten apples
From the ground that aren't as good,
But easy.So the apples at the top think
Something is wrong with them,When in
Reality,they're amazing.They just
Have to wait for the right boy to
Come along,the ones
Brave enough to
climb all
the way
to the top
of the tree
b Jun 2015
it just feels like everyone is seeking for something,
their happiness,
their salvation,
their refugee,

you never truly know,
but it always strikes me,
what if happiness doesn't exist?

what if it's just a term,
a word we like to convince ourselves to have hope,
because without hope we can't possibly survive,

happiness is ******* overrated and
i'm sick and tired of trying to find ways to reach it.

what if all of those positive energies are nonsense and just empty vibes that we temporary try to fill ourselves with to get rid of all the bitterness when we're all rotten inside,
Stuck in a straight jacket
That detaches from humanities
That disables civilized thinking
It strangles your insides
And steals compassion
And your breath of life
Withers inside this chasten

In this rubber room
Who’s pads make up your apathetical existence
You rot here like the ***** you take
You die here
Unless you bleed yourself of disrespect
Unless you bleed yourself of disinterest
Unless you bleed yourself of narcissism

Who cares
Your worthless in this state anyway
Find purpose in empathy

Or die here
Exist out of the minds of others
Others who have collective respect
Collective understanding
Collective empathy
And open mindedness

You’re locked here cause you prejudge
Guarded by your own stubbornness
You don’t accept
That you don’t know everyone’s story
You can’t know
You judge anyway

That hippie over there
He’s not a ***** loser
He has a family he loves
Worked hard in construction
And overcame a destructive alcohol and drug abuse
He’s better than you
He’s empathetic
Loving
Understanding
And embraces everyone
Got caught up in my disgusting mind. How ***** I am. Judging people I know nothing about. I hate it. Pathetic.
I’m a soldier
in a war
sold to the highest bidder
Biding my time
getting high
but not getting
anything out of
life

A lifer
a loser
lost his way
was on his way
on a journey
was earning
a living
was living
a life
in spite of
spitting in the face
of all I was faced with
Couldn’t face up
to the need
I was feeding
A hole
from which
my soul
was bleeding
Unknown reason
harboring this treason
give it time
it will season
Belief system
the Devil
finds pleasing

No matter
how much I tried
and from everyone hide,
including myself,
what was
deep inside
If I went
and made
an attempt
a fool I'd be,
wasted time spent
A lament
at controlling
the tide
And each day
from the next
more and more
of me died

There was a time
when all my efforts
went unheeded
and instead
succeeded
But these courtships
did not breed
or plant the seed
Instead was seething
to be
leaving
Escaping from me
with each breath
I’m breathing

A horrible time
indeed
Unfamiliar,
making me ill
Not having free will
Undeserving
and not for me
to get
Must get angry
and upset
Breaking steps
So many
missteps
I’m falling
more than I’m standing

Steps I’ve climbed
mostly blind
by my blindfold
Its knots
I bind
the moment
I ‘rise-and-shine’
so that
in time
when rising
like yeast,
the hiding
inner self
self-defeats

Every hand folding
as I’m
raising the bets,
doesn't make sense
From where
did I get
this invisible pet
Originally set
and previously molded
in the early stages
of the morning
in a story
that’s boring
and been told
time and time again
with
lost love ones
and friends

A friendly reminder
that a
“stitch-in-time”
is not
a time saver
if the referenced ‘stitch’
relied upon
was built upon
lies
Consumed
from others
that we
self tie
but mostly
force fed
by the very hand
controlled
by my head

It’s a numbing thought;
reasons sought
Elusive?
‘yes’
but pieces
caught
My peace disturbed
by actions
brought
from a desire
to numb
so that these thoughts
will be
forgotten

Decayed
and rotten
left for days
in a
wrought iron cage
Anyone
with sage
too afraid
to consume
but 'In-Doom'
I trust
and with full ******
my smile
displayed;
Forward I go
for sins
I pay
and lie within
this bed
I've made

Not night;
thick of day
No difference displayed
Skewed indifference
to the
different
paths
that have been
laid
like the path
of destruction
from this day
back
in my wake
Bindings
can't brake
A life's mistake
Lay me down
my soul
to take
Lying in state,
a viewing,
my wake
My mind
now awake
-
Cruelty's laugh
makes me
an ***
A crass reminder
of a life
that's past
Written: July 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
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