"scarily" poems
Verily, the moon is bright
Merrily, I rejoice the sight
Scarily, I will re-form
Hairily, I am reborn
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 2:52 AM UTC
Exclamation points are little lies we tell each other
In this digital age it's easier to feign surprise or excitement
When in actuality, nothing surprises anyone anymore
Now - disgust, apathy and scarily even hate
These things you can't disguise electronically as easily
And sadly even less so face to face
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 11:38 PM UTC
i belong to the daybreak
when humans with sleepy eyes
and mousy morning hearts
are brave enough to face
the scarily mundane world once again.
i belong to nature
to the hidden wonders of the world
there's unknown modern hanging gardens of babylon
and the secret sanctuaries
where the teenagers of the megalopolis
go to rest.
i belong to the ocean
in the deepest trenches
no man has seen
where it is quiet and still
and darkness reigns supreme.
i belong to outer space
in the galaxies who are
strangers we'd like to know
there's dark matter that swirls
space dust coalesces
and stars are born to die all over again.
i belong to the rain
when the sky cries and
the typhoons turn to drizzle
the water runs through
empty houses and thrift stores in the gutters
and on and on, to underground,
to God knows where.
i belong to the night
to the time when the busiest people
submit to slumber
but a few who are not
bothered by lightyears
sit by their windowsills
to watch the stars.
*i belong to the world
and the world belongs to me.*
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
A long trailer
In a sombre forest
Two young boys creep
Through a long corridor
One blond and fair
The other is sometimes mistaken
For an immigrant from India
The floor is sticky and smells
From spilt pink lemondae
Scooby Doo cries out from the TV
"Jeepers Creepers it's the Creeper!"
The two boys watch wide eyed
Scooby's antics and Shaggy's
Immense appetite
They giggle and scream
In delight
As a ghostly axe misses Scooby
By a hair
The movie is over and it's time to go
It's dark out, scarily dark
They laugh nervously
But jump into the large truck
Both clad in the trappings
Of young explorers:
***** sweat pants
T shirts with wolves
Hair bleached by the sun
Skin dark and freckled
Finger nails ***** from building forts
And muddy shoes from testing
If river banks are as solid as they look.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
I know a girl who won't give up.
The strongest woman in the world.
She will smile
Without biting her tongue.
She will laugh
Without sadness on her lips.
She will soar
She will fly
In time---
Every single night.
She pains.
She pains.
She dies,
time
til
time
in every single
drawing breath.
Needlessly.
She cracks.
She wounds.
She breaks.
She scars.
Scarily.
Killing herself
Just to fall asleep...
Before she prays.
Makeup---
She pains.
She pains.
Yet she stands.
She tires.
She tries.
Makeup---
She smiles.
Fractured.
Yet still smiles.
Tearless.
Wearless.
Tireless.
But not painless.
Makeup---
She talks.
She pains.
She smiles.
Makeup---
She walks.
She pains.
She runs.
Makeup---
She's strong,
yet her strength
it needs refilling.
For she stands,
it aches,
yet still she has,
anaesthesia.
Makeup---
She succeeds.
Yet it pains,
walking away.
Makeu---
She goes home
Alone.
It hurts.
It hurts.
Yet she drives.
Make---
Cooks food.
Instant made.
It burns.
It burns.
Yet she eats.
Mak---
Brushes her teeth
Looks at a mirror
Seeing herself,
Smudges.
Blurs.
And yet she still
has the power
to close her eyes.
Ma---
And she lies on her bed.
With all the pain in the world.
She doesn't even
have to wash off
the makeup on her face,
she just cries it off...
M---
Before she prays.
Just to fall asleep...
Killing herself
Scarily.
She scars.
She breaks.
She wounds.
She cracks.
Needlessly.
Drawing breath
in every single
time
til
time
She dies
She pains.
She pains.
Every single night.
In time
She will fly.
She will soar.
Without sadness on her lips.
She will laugh
Without biting her tongue.
She will smile,
The strongest woman in the world.
I know a girl who won't give up.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
My obsession lays only with Calvin Klein.
A proper noun with capitals.
A drifting strong aroma.
Another obsession in my world.
Is sometimes somewhat lighter.
I am an obsessed pusher.
Obsessed only with my pen.
If I can create an image well.
Then hell so be it.
Real people I don't like much.
It's only words I wish to touch.
Desire fires obsession.
It's just a bunch of words.
Sweet strawberries so succulent bring words of summertime.
Clouds weigh down around my head
Dark winter days of misery.
Moments when I wish I was dead.
I put my pen to work.
Writing darkness scarily black.
About bursting eyes.
Where no-one dies,
Except emotion cruelly slaughtered.
By the one known only in kindness.
As the smiling devil's daughter
Definitely no relation.
Just the mother of eccentricity.
Kindness in persona.
To be so dark.
That's very rare.
In a heart that's ribbon bound.
I write my words with tender care.
Sometimes, just to remind the world that I am still there.
Moreover, like a hornet.
I cheese you off and get stuck in your hair!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 6:28 AM UTC
Oh, those sixteen seconds; —
schoolings we learnt, stories on the
sixteen streets, where a few flowers
Would be daring enough to grow.
YOU!
Bystander to the narrative of six teens,
learning about life, through every twist
and curve. Take part in such an account,
for you too, to be flourished in what
Truths we learned.
I was sixteen; though that made
you feel like eighty-four in a concrete
jungle, where you heard stories of
its corruption, as it scarily roars.
The novel days, but with a broken
system of old. From feeling broke;
covering holes with holes,
— You could only tap into success by
the connections of who you know, and
they know; prior sixteen years. Henceforth
Why we all sensed being so old.
Or was it, "owed"
—dang, what youth could know?
But to be honest though, the feeling of it,
was so cold: a degree less than sixteen, for
Any flower to be frightened to grow.
As if the promise of an improved
tomorrow would never really show,
To say—"you head in your own way
and I'll be a head, ahead of you; thinking
up sixteen likely ways of where to go,
And how to go.
I was told a story by so and so,
who knew so and so, —that said,
So and so, about so and so, that a man
claimed this was the right time to sow.
He threw out his seeds; some that hit the
emotionless ground as cold sixteen stones.
Others were pierced by the cold’s thorns.
He spoke a lot of brave words and
eccentric quotes, that held with them
great wisdom and growth.
Some hard to swallow, some fell on
deaf ears, the rest gnawed by birds.
These teachings didn’t speak of being
owed, as we were told; but were
secrets he seemed to own,
That shone out of his soul.
I was sixteen, a nervous teen,
who gave this story sixteen seconds.
We were careless and obviously reckless
—a wonder of which gods ever forgave us.
Feeling cold as snow, in a place where,
it gets colder as the rain pours.
The man gave us sixteen of the most
profound words:
“Sixteen seconds of the Word,
your spirit grows, — sixteen
seconds of rain, and life will show.”
I was termed a flower in that story,
given sixteen words of advice
from a stranger I didn't really know.
And it was by age sixteen, the bud
Had started to grow.
I guess flowers are
the boldest of us all.
—on where, and through which
situation they choose to grow.
Apr 17, 2024
Apr 17, 2024 at 12:21 PM UTC
I'm visibly invisible,
Innocently uninnocent,
Bitterly bittersweet,
Scarily beautiful.
I'm misunderstood, yet understood.
I'm a lot of things, but I'm not yours.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
I
have this
friend,
she will
tell you
nothing
but
the
truth
(which
is too
truthful,
most of the time)
she is
the
type
to know
the code to
the printer,
and will
print off
75
pages
just
because
she can
she is
the
type
who can
make up a
story to
get out
of
anything,
and she
will,
too
and scarily
enough,
I feel
safe
when I'm
around her
and I
find myself
wishing
sometimes
I was
more like
her
and
when she
is not
around,
I'm wondering
who she
is
tantalizing
now
it's probably
some old
*****
who is
just as
uninterested
as she is,
but
he wears
expensive
glasses
and a
fancy necktie
and
this fills
her
void
and yet,
somewhere
in my mind
I know
my friend
will
not
get away
with living
her whole
life
this
way
someday it ends
and
then
what
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
I see less and less of you each day
At least that's what you told me last time you weighed
I notice your scapula prickling through a shirt
I can't tell you otherwise even if it does hurt
Because telling you I'm suffering would make you feel less
I can't completely understand, it's only my guess
That your smile is a disguise, it's your precious defense
If I could only sneak into your mind and teach you some sense
But no word I could utter would be new or unique
All I can do is sit here and wipe tears from your cheek
Just hug you tight in our tilt-a-world ride
Because everyone needs a friend by their side
I'm scared you won't change, you can't bring yourself to
I can see the way it's ripped apart and mortified you
Your body is scarily shrinking, striking and dissipating
And all I can do to help change is sit here waiting
They say that life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death
But you seem to live it, grasp its size and its breadth
I wish you could see your worth in another's eyes
It's your humor, your vibrance, but never your size
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.
On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.
Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.
Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.
Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
soft, cold tread
of careful footsteps on the ice
and it's so ironic
that i'm holding your hand
to keep from falling
and i thank you without thinking
a knee-jerk reaction
to each time you make my day
while inside my head the obsession
replays
asking myself in circles
twisted, burgeoning circles
is this just the game again?
and i love that rush
icy lights above, hard seat below me
and then your mouth is soft on mine
in the middle of everywhere
and i have trouble opening my eyes
when you pull away
and i am ashamed when you notice
the shifting colours in my cheeks
because i am afraid
to betray
the easiness with which i sink
into you
we are too familiar, you and i
too similar, too scarily in tune
and it didn't take long, did it?
where did this comfort come from?
these questions carve my tongue
into ribbons, and yet
you never notice
when yours meets mine
and the guilt is swallowed
before you can taste it
just in time
and i ask, again
where did this comfort come from?
or are we just two people
in the middle of winter
taking solace in the warmth
of each other?
will we part ways easily?
somehow, i find myself
dreading that experiment
where did this comfort come from?
this heat that spreads
across my chest
and through my stomach
and down into my frosted knees
as the cold melts away from me, forgotten
like the hour and the place
as the wall behind me
is crushed into my spine
and i am strong again
our bodies create a hole in time
so perfectly fragmented around us
and the clock fades into grey
tugging at my fears
and i want so badly
to keep feeling this way
all through winter
for as long as i can
but
i just wish i didn't care
where did this comfort come from?
and will you meet me there?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Alas! The fleeting years glide on.
Eheu fugaces labuntar anni
So it goes, an old poet
rose, to tell the story of
the beast and the decaying glass rose,
petals falling softly cracking into broken
glass.
When you look at someone through rose tinted glasses, all the the red flags just look like flags.
raise a generation on Eminem and Cobain
then
scratch your head wondering where all us grown boys
went a little insane
from Timberlake to Bieber
Brittany to Miley
what's really changed?
anything
but our age?
a president named Bush went to war on terror
in the the middle-east,
ten years later his son does the same thing.
again I ask,
what's even changed
but
our age?
The ****** scandals begun by our ******* president
continue today under an eponymous tabloid cover
called Kardashian.
exploitation the name of the game,
everything is done for us,
especially our thinking.
less scarily,
our cooking.
there has never not been an "us vs. them"
mentality in human history.
we are cultured cannibals, tribesmen who have outgrown
our britches.
****** and racial liberation continues against
****** and racial tension
*** is cheap
drugs are cheaper
morals are depleted
agnosticism the happy sedated norm
nobody expects a revival but the saved themselves, the born
again.
well do I even wish to be born again into a life as this?
If I have learned anything thus far from life's teachings:
One is nothing and everything
Nowhere and everywhere
spirits abound where you least expect them
There is no zero and no infinity
Watch a fire burn and you will know this truth
Alas! The fleeting years glide on.
Eheu fugaces labuntar anni
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.
On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.
Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.
Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.
Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:53 AM UTC
one day everything will be just how i like it.
itll be warm but not too much.
the bed will be soft and so will the duvet and the light
and you'll be right there by my side.
because we know what we have.
our bond our trust will exceed all else.
ill have no words to describe how i feel but one.
an album actually not so much a word.
blonde.
ill feel like summer and new opportunities and lost loves and achingly sweet heartbreaks.
ill be scarily tranquil. a feeling that is greatly unbeknownst to me.
still ill have no words to describe how i feel but my favorite color.
ill feel like the color of sunsets and fire.
ill be a warm yet dusty orange.
so light and airy youd almost think i was a simple pink.
and this is what happiness will feel like
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Something silky, scarily there,
Ghostly and diaphanous,
Stole our socks and underwear,
And had a ghastly laugh on us.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
I don't need help changing my tire
I need your political support
to put out this fire
set by the angry mob of course
and there's no way I can force
you to see from the high horse
you gained from light chores
so keep your random acts of kindness
as long as you cure your blindness
I think we could find this
more profound niceness
embedded within the social construct
so kindness is required and not luck
because our intermittent charity
won't achieve economic parity
making our situation scarily
here to stay apparently
so don't tell me to be civil
from behind the American sigil
that sits on a swivel
with **** symbols
and those that swindle
a nation of marks
pushing shopping carts
in a lockstep art
dividing us from the heart
so even if you mow my yard
we'll still be miles apart
separated by a canyon of cordiality
that a river of oppression runs through
carrying away our ordeal reality
as fast as guns do
when they're held by the sightless
who convince themselves they're righteous
through random acts of kindness.
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 9:05 PM UTC
upset tummy after a night of liquor
while I stayed in, unable to eat, getting sicker -
I can't hold down a bite,
my stomach won't have mercy on me.
Dry heaves,
wet tears
and a bed I wish wasn't empty.
it's night like these
I wish for my mother's womb -
a warm, dark place fit for the likes of me.
I don't know what I'm doing,
but it feels a lot like drowning.
being with someone
can feel scarily like -
you're holding your own hand.
I fear the morning,
because I'm afraid you'll leave in the night.
(That's how they all go.)
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC
the Look on your Face (your beautiful Face) fills me
with an Elation so scarily Deep
that my Heartbeat heightens
its already speedy pace and its so hard
for me to keep my Composure around You
and your Lazy Lips do that Tilt (that **** Tilt) -
your perfect chest Rumbles with husky Laughter -
and your Hands on my slender waist begin to massage
and my Resolve crashes just as my Lips
crash
onto Yours
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
I swing from the monkey bars,
From arm to arm, from mind to heart;
Touch base and then let go,
Lose grip and then regain my hold.
Fall down, scrape my knee,
I’m alive because I bleed,
Swinging high scarily, for
I’ll go flying as soon as I let go.
Secrets in the sand,
Things that should be covered, and
Castles blow away,
I can make nothing that stays.
Sometimes on the seesaw
You can’t get off the ground,
But be careful before you start
Throwing your weight around.
Sometimes you have a friend,
Sometimes you play alone,
And the older you are the harder it is
To find your way back home
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Scream, I want you to scream,
Rag doll-- tearing at the seams,
The thread that's threatening to unravel,
The baked bread that's burning the faithful,
I want to hear your lion roar,
You're so mundane always a bore,
Your mind is scarily sublime,
But Coraline, the time is mine,
This is the test, the pitfall of the faithless,
You may be a mess, but show them why you get no rest.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 4:47 AM UTC
Hard rain falls
Whilst fighting fists ****
Power rules them by scarily deep drawl
"War cries"
For them all
Off with them all
By the time of the fall
We'll **** them all
Dying in the midst
Whistle blowing
In the warring wind
Making our stand
Fighting for our rights
Get up stand up for your
Rights
Don't crawl
You may fall
In the sailing squall
Our worst hurricanes hold
Your home in its waves
It cascades the grace
Towards the direction of dreary
Eyes that can't dream
Looking at your resting reflection
In the greener waters?
Sea of the hooded sharks
Fins keeps us in the view of danger
In the transparent waters
Maybe the ranger will
Save you from the storm
Hoping storm troopers
Make you a service ranger
Kids stuck in the Syrian war
Are they just children
Dying for peace
With their dreams
Resting with ashes
That should have belonged
To the seas
And lot of watching
In the end just believing
That war is a belief
War is Peace
Orwell oft' is right
Ignorance is Strength
Freedom Is Slavery
Since,
God watches
Fighting with his ignorance
With enslaved strength
Freedom Is Strength
And it is powerful
Since, it prays
For praise
Like Madonna
Painted on the oil
Thou art Hope
"Your art ropes me in"
In The Cathedral
Your Hope brings art
To the ghouls
They are,
The ghosts of the many souls
And the Jews
Chambered in the gas
Ceiling
Breathing through a mouth-piece
"I'm dying, the fumes"
They're tearing my lungs to pieces!
Thinking
Where is the crimson tide
Is it peace
Whilst drowning in
The horizon?
In red hues
In the death
Of the dead sea
The laurel wreath
Lies floating with the breath
Oh capt'n capt'n
Of the sailing wind
Nails to the coffin
The wind whistles
Jesus Is Dead
Jesus Is Dead
Jesus is the dead?
Resurrected in the end
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
Blooms like stars on clumps of mystery grass,
purple pops of violets amidst tangled clovers
and random hyacinths planted years ago—
You’re all jumbled merrily, scarily together
in my yard this April twenty fourteen.
You’re all wrong, you riotous jungle,
you unkempt chaos invading our suburbs
in tempestuous leaps. We’ll have to
corral you, scissor and mow you
to maintain the illusion confusion’s at bay.
But just when calm comes sneaking in,
up pops a rogue thistle, a twine
of morning glory to choke the tomato
but sing all morning a pink and purple song.
Now that is some cool **** right there.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
Happy
Falsely happy
Strangely happy
Way too happy
Angry
Truly angry
Amazingly angry
Overwhelmingly angry
Sad
Drowning sadness
Hidden sadness
Muted sadness
Normal
Always happy
Frighteningly angry
Scarily sad
Truly
Quiet happiness
Snapping anger
Boiling sadness
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC