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Jamie F Nugent Mar 2016
In a little pub in London,
Moriarty drank his beer,
Night came, a ***** black night with rain.
Mid-December, nineteen hundred and thirty nine,
Just a few months before ****** turned London's
sky black with lead.
But for now,
Moriarty drank his beer,
Sat solemnly in the candle-lit corner.
He gazed ruefully into his drink,
Like a haggard old grey ghost.
He was tired and felt strange and lost
in this faraway disgusting place.
The whorey smell of the city.
He felt a million and one miles away
from his home.
He was born in a little white cottage,
straw roof, on a small tragic island
off the West of Ireland;
Just a few stone-trows away from
the sleepy fishing village of the
village of Kinsheenlan.
Moriarty had often written letters to
his lonesome mother dearest,
but instead of tossing the letters
into gloomy London post-boxes,
he would post them into
the pub's fireplace.
Fuel for his shame.
Alas, the curse of drink had taken
over his soul and mind.
The sweet poison was now
his only pleasure,
his only softness.

So there he sat, drinking the Devil's drop,
like a mop soaks up spills on the counter-top.
And blowing out sliver smoke rings
all through those long winter nights.
Give to Moriarty to drink mandragora,
until he becomes muddied and slow.
Those rose colored glasses that he had
on for so long now,
they were not going to shield him forever.
As he transfixed his eyes on his beer,
he heard a voice,
a wondrous voice,
at first he thought it lay alone in his mind,
but it was coming from down the hallway,
the sounds of a young maiden's song,
wild and free.
It made his heart feel the substance of his life.
That fabulous blue center-light delight of song.
Sounding so alike to his sister Betty.
It shook him to his core.

Moriarty, the poor lost soul,
had not seen his sister in twenty odd years.
He recalled their last meeting.

The ship has set sail into an ocean, black and calm.
Just that morning, Moriarty got the letter from his mother,
Handwritten in felt tip, slightly stained with a tear,
Telling him to keep warm and stay safe,
To fill his stomach and fill his pockets.

As his sister stood on Dublin's docks to see him off and wish him well
She shrinks with the distance growing between and
She looks twelve and three quarter years younger than she did that day,
The little girl who Moriarty fought with all the live long day over nothing.
Now, she was the women who put up a fight over his sailing away.
Sometimes, brothers and sisters never change.

She knew that this was for the best, but she would never admit that,
Not with words,
She felt her words, weightless would have just sailed right away with him.
Moriarty wondered what she will look like if he seen her again,
Will she have received wrinkles from worrying about mother?
Will her chestnut hair have turned white as the snow burying her bare feet?
And now
Betty was all Moriarty's mother had, after Moriarty's father,
a fisherman, drowned that awful November night.

Then, just as Moriarty thought of his ghostling past,
there came the question
'Are you going home for Christmas, dear?'
Asked the barmaid,
Her words dripping like honey into Moriarty's half-empty-glass.
'Sure, I have not been to Ireland in an age, but I know for certain
that my mother is waiting for me with arms open' Moriarty answered.
But he was unsure if his own poor mother would recognize him
for it had been so long.
But just then, Moriarty heard the Christmas-bell-like-voice of
the women standing, singing in the hallway.
The past came into consciousness like a flood.
And in the corner of his eye,
there glazed, the starting of a tear.
Moriarty pushed aside his beer glass-half-full and
said to himself
'I shall be home for Christmas day'.

After two weeks, long weeks
Gone drink nor smoke,
Moriarty have sharped up enough pounds and pennies
to bring him to his home of Ireland.
And while on that train through the lands, green and beautiful,
The deeper into the West Moriarty went
the stronger he felt it,
a beat, beat, beat that thumped and rang out in his chest.
Night fell by the time Moriarty set foot in Kinsheelan,
The church bells rang true and strong sixfold.
Moriarty was unrecognized by the sailor Tomas Bawn,
As he climbed into the little white boat
to sail home across the calm, blue, winter-waters,
to that same white cottage.
Tomas Bawn heard Moriarty as he said to himself
in little more then a whisper
'Thank God above, I shall be home for Christmas day'.


In a little pub in London,
Moriarty's abode,
By the hallway door,
A letter, unread,
Laid upon the floor, It read-

'Oh dear Danny,
Our poor mother has passed.
The funeral will take place
In Kinsheelan church
After mass
On Christmas day'.




-Jamie F. Nugent
Nodding, nodding 'pon thy stem,
Thou bloom o' morn; nodding, nodding
To the bees, asearch o' honey's sweet.
Wilt thou to droop, and wilt the dance o' thee
To vanish with the going o' the day?
Hath the tearing o' the air o' thy sharped thorn
Sent musics up unto the bright,
Or doth thy dance to mean anaught
Save breeze-kiss 'pon thy bloom?
Hath yonder songster harked to thee,
And doth he sing thy love? Or hath he tuned
His song of world's wailing o' the day?
Doth mom shew thee naught save thy garden's wall,
That shutteth thee away, a treasure o' thy day?
Doth yonder hum then spell anaught,
Save whirring o' the wing that hovereth
O'er thy bud to sup the sweet?
Ah, garden's deep, afulled o' fairie's word,
And creeped o’er with winged mites, where but
The raindrop's patter telleth thee His love—
Doth all this vanish then, at closing o' the day?
Anay. For He hath made a one who seeketh here,
And storeth drops, and song, and hum, and sweets,
And of these weaveth garland for the earth.
From off his lute doth drip the day of Him!
Mikaila Dec 2012
Think you can walk on me?
Think you can walk away?
Think you can take me?
I know your darkness, honey.
I know your corners full of cobwebs and shadows,
The places within you.

Think I'm innocent and pure?
Sure.
I have not torn lace and tasted flesh,
Or sharped my fingernails on the ridges of a spine,
But I have been to hell, sweetness.
Been dragged below a grave,
Gouged wet dirt with mine,
Desperate hands scrabbling to pull me back
To rainy bitter nights.
I have lain bare and ****** on the cold stone floors, stained blue and black,
Burned beyond a breath, beyond thinking,
Beyond hope.
I've been brutalized and torn apart inside.
To compare evisceration to the blooming of a rose,
To say I've had the far away gentler time.
To think I am naive as you suppose,
That I couldn't possibly know the foreign lands
Traveled by your mute experienced hands.

Think because I ask for you I need you?
It is my nature to give, but not to take.
Not to take love when I am not offered it,
But also not to take any more ****.

If you look into my eyes, do you see fear?
Of anything, in their depths?
Keep looking, search away-
You'll not find it here.
You'll see my rise and fall, my grand absurdity,
But you'll not see my obeisance
To someone who will not match me
Mile for mile,
Straight down.

I have seen hell, you see.
Gazed long and hard and deep.
Purred savage in its velvet caress-
The way you have unzipped a dress,
I have unzipped my skin
And stepped out.
So look on, look lust, look IN-

I am no white snowflake, glittering
Fragile and quick to melt and meld.
No sniveling child begging weakly to be held.
I am a rainstorm drumming on my own back,
A rhythm and reminder of the tenderness I lack,
I am a lightning strike,
Sudden focused and intense, the white
Hot touch of the phantasm immense.

I am the song of suffering and of love,
I need no substance to loose my demons,
No dizzy fiery nectar to lose my mind.
I am complete unaltered, and sublime.

I have known centuries beneath my skin,
If no one's touch,
And words of every meaning through my wanting veins
For wanting such.

And you, girl, are not worth my time.

Push her blushing into bed, raise her pulse to reeling heights,
For I have pushed the world beneath my kneading hands, and pulled the sun to night.

Ravage rashly through the silly schoolgirls that you find.
The way into a woman's soul
Is the seducing of her mind.
A child found a book of war ,from hay where her mother and father lay dying .
From page to page she turned ,
each page of sage dripped in blood and gore .
Each page spoke of vengeance’s sharped sword ,
each page of sorrow and death ,
each page of sabered ****** hand .
Call of tyrants from mountains came to fight forever in Odin halls ..
The weavers witch spinned and cut the thread and cursed the land .
and goblets of blood of man slept till nevermore .
Spin spin tales of woe ,
Spin spin the weavers go and blood and goblits forever until
the curse is broken .

Gods poets spoke of love and peace to take the darkness that stalked
the land one bright light to guide them,
so even God in his mighty love might not judge them .

Spin the thread the tales of woe ,
Spin the weavers gold and blood ,


and goblits until the curse is broken .

And the fires burnt and furnise fired for shells of war,
that fed the cannon and muskit .
For King and country ,
For Cromwell’s army ,
to over throw the country .

Spin the thread the tales of woe ,
Spin the weavers gold and blood ,
and goblits ,
until the curse is broken .



Two lovers with beating hearts ,
one left for King and Country.
He looked
into her eyes ,
“;don’t be sad when I have gone for you’re sadness forever take you .

Then over the top to the four winds blown   ,
over the top for King and country .

.” So weep beside the willow tree ,
     for letters of love for me .
For where flowers grow our hearts will go ,
See the flowers they grow
beside you .
and though the trench in death you lay my heart will forever find you for  a telegram man arrived today as i was picking flowers .

The girl closed the book and placed a flower in ,
then danced around a young willow tree for now the curse was broken .

Dance around the willow tree ,
plant a flower of love for me ,
for now the curse is broken.
C E Ford Jun 2015
But lately,
I've been falling like rain,
collectively puddling at the edges of your rain boots,
splash,
your boots bright red
like my cheeks the first time we impromptu'd to the beach
because we didn't have anything better to do,
and everyone forgot us anyway.
My pants were, peach,
or maybe coral,
but rolled up enough to see the sharped edges of my ankles,
because it was what I could afford to give you,
I had lost those trimmings long ago to the world,
even though it never gave me any of my pieces back,
and speaking of,
I still have white pieces of sand in my pockets,
and maybe if I poured them out on your floor,
we could have had a beach of our very own.
And I could roll down those pants,  you could change into your teal shirt,
and we might have sunbathed
in our own warmth,
glowing yellow and bright
like those little specks in your eyes
nobody ever notices,
but I knew they were there.
That's what happens when you pay attention to the details of people,
You find in them colors that are too hard to name,
but
if you have a color wheel and a pen, you can find out what they're called, and even if you can't,
you can make up your own as you go along, like;
Greasy-pizza-stain-from-the-little-shack-on-the-water-red,
and light-2009-Pontiac-G6-that-got-you-to-the-beach-when-you-had-no-p­lace-else-to-go-grayish-blue.
You can even almost mix these
colors into paint,
and hand them out in pamphlets to all of your friends and family;
"Here's the shade of green
the leaves were on the tree she sat on with me."
"This is the shade of pink
her lips were when she said 'I love you.'"
"And here's the shade of red
I saw when I heard her say goodbye."
Old, repurposed poetry. I can't think of anything new.
Victoria Reese Feb 2012
Fingers
Chew chew chew
Through string flexible cords
Of peached chalked skin,
To the roughen sharped corners of the
Piles, piles pile of papers
Cutting into my head,
******* away to my very own writers tool,
Bite to bite,
Itch, blood and sting to the nails, skin
Aye aye cries the mind,
With the heart and soul echoing along.
Tingles from white aching tingling flesh that knows
No escape from my addicted mouth,
Salvia coated causing pain to durate the hours of sleepless
Nights and un-filled days.
Bite, till my very next appointment
Poetic T Dec 2014
I screamed, but no one heard
Still as death my eyes were
Closed
My prison
Eyelashes were my bars
Concealing,
Obscured,
Silence
Only disturbed by breath,
I began to sink, the white of my eyes
"My island of purity"
Slowly washed away by the tides of
My pupils, the storm of terror
Was upon me, my fingers slipped
Each digit pealed from the bars of my eyes,
"Then all went dark"
I was lost in the nothingness,
Thoughts,
Shards,
Splicing
Up my mind, a battle raged
within, but my body was as still as death
I had demons that sharped each claw,
Cutting in my subconscious,
Tainting innocence,
Now the corrupted into horror behind
Closed doors,
I looked in vain, sweat was like
Raindrops, each fell never landing
Eternally falling, a
Noise,
Faint,
Oceans
Of thought below my feet,
I impacted beneath
Courage,
Fortitude,
Determination
Of character, as a whisper
Upon a pollen of thought, drifted
So tiny
Underestimated
Within its strength,
For words were spoken so quietly
"The darkness is weak"
"Nightmares have no control"
"Find your light"
"Shatter this illusion, take control"
As I hit down, light
Permeated,
Infused,  
Crumbling
Under the light,  oceans of pure
Thought splashed over me, fear
"Was washed off"
The bars once imprisoning became as before
As they were separated, I stood again on my island of white,
At the moment of separation,
I awoke, Darkness kept me still,
But in silence, I have the power to awaken,
Nightmares have no control, the are
Figments,
Illusions,
Misconceptions
Of the mind, that when a crack fragments,
Darkness creeps in, sleep well now, you are the
Master of your dreams, creation of fantasy
Sleep well, never let darkness consume,
Always have sweet dreams and awaken well..
NOLWAZI JOUBERT Oct 2015
Dear you.
You have become old,
you can make your own choices,
and no one will be there to stop you.
You have become old
and you have learnt a lot from life.

You have met a lot of people,
different hearts and characters,
and some that you loved a lot,
surely stabbed you at the back.

Some that you believed would never be away from you
were the first to proof what betryal was.
You learnt to love, care and be tolerant.

You learnt how to hate
and dislike,
you took examples from your childhood
and carried them to adolescence,
you vowed never to be like your father
and up until today you are still not like him.

You learnt how to carry you self well in public,
while standing up for yourself.
You led almost every group discussion
and you were always the up-front
person in class,
you forever said your words
and they stuck loud and clear into their hearts.

You became a rebel,
by not doing what the majority did.
You have kept your varginity up until this day,
and no form of drug has ever been diguested into you system.

You stood up against what you knew was wrong,
and you forever made things straight,
you didnt care whatever it took,
even being hated was never at any chance going to stand in your way.

You promiced yourself to be true to your own being,
you kept your diginty,
you left a smile on faces of those who felt secure around you.
You never lost confidence
and you didnt care what people thought about you.

You learnt to love,
accept,
apologise,
and forgive,
and up until this day you have forgave even that sharped knife that cut too deep.

Dear you i wrote this counting down to those few days left before you become a young adult.
I am proud of how you fought through all those trails.
You faced it all,
and no daughts have ever stood in your way.

Yours loving,
most caring,
the only comforter,
the only one that understands you.
The only one to never live your side,
the one that has always felt all the pain when you got hurt.

Yours loving friend...

MYSELF
Simply congradulating myself because no one will. Only comforting myself because no one will.

If i reject myself then who will accept me?
Am proud to be different from all those other teens i know
ixamxaxcrybaby Dec 2017
Everything about me seems so wrong,
My life has a lot of twists and turns,
Pictures and moments I want to burn,
Piece of me I want to torn.

Everyone around me doesn't really care anymore,
They always thinking about their own lives and more,
Pushing you and kicking you out the door,
Saying, "You shouldn't be here, anymore."

People are ***** all the time,
They are thinking that I'm fine,
And living my whole life without a fire,
So why do you think I write this rhyme?

All the imperfections and flaws,
Is all you can see in a row,
Attacking with your neatly sharped claws,
On my body where my suicidal blood flaws.

Don't ask me why I take my life,
All of you left me one choice, and that is to fly,
Don't come too late and asking my mom why,
You know the reason why I chose to die.
CommonStory May 2014
My eyes open
I'm dazed
Silence, nothing
I inhale
Clogged suction
A shivering static vibrates through me
I exhale
A short whimper
The tightness and heavy feeling strike My chest
My body stiffeness then numbs
The rustle and whiswtle turn to a dying gasp a hissing howl
My eyes close
"Where's My inhaler?"
Shifting hands like cilia feel through the dark
Panic
Adrenaline
Suddenly an L sharped item in my grasp
"Shake" "shake"
"Puff" "puff"
Exhale
Sigh
That sudden euphoria
Relaxation followed by a loss of  conciousness
Sleep and dream

Waking in water
Poetic T May 2014
That smile so big like a razor
had cut open your smile from
ear to ear, It disturbs me out
looking at those teeth under a
smile black and crooked, breath
like acid rain on my senses, as
you once again exhale I am
unable to breath.

Your arms long never ending
as you reach forward, sharped
nails yellow with nicotine my
heart beats faster as I am within
your reach.

Your clothes like a ******, stinking
from a distance the closer I get my
eyes water as you once again breath,
you speak, such a gentle voice, madam
he say, with claws out reached help
if you can a man on hard times.

I go behind my mother only eight
years old, I scream go away ugly
man and my mother stops and
speaks, this is a person just like
you and me, he has hit the bottom
and with help from strangers he
may just climb a step then another
till he is on his feet.

Never judge by what you see for this
could be anyone child never disrespect
those on the streets as they could easily
be you or me.
Sha May 2017
You are not weak just because they told you.
No!
You are made from bamboo and sunlight
So stand tall and be not swayed by the storms.

You can be a queen without a king,
A goddess without a god,
And a spear with a poisonous head.

Fight.

Fight those who try to take away your existence,
For you have survived chaos
and you have been sharped by your praying soul.

Hold the pen and write your own story.
And when they try to tell you that you look like someone they knew,
Tell them their eyes are not even enough to take a look at you.
Something Simple Sep 2015
Teeth click with a snap, fangs bared in another threat.
Fur up, hackles raised.
She's growling at ghosts now, mountain song and cracking boulders.
Hisses slice the silence up, sharped knife against paper thin.
Those eyes are wide, ruby death staring into the abyss.
Pupils so wide they hide the red, now they're sinking into slits.
That red glows, that red speaks deep.
The things that she's seen. The things that she's seen.
Lips pulled back, ears battened down.
Shoulders hunched, head lowered.
Lethal crown ready as the flowers fall one by one.
She is a monster.
She is a god.
And what are Gods if not monsters?
Those black hooves strike the ground, one single drumbeat.
Death dealers.
Scars bristle under shining fur.
Nightmare no longer monochrome.
Those teeth snap again, sharp click.
Angry sound.
Bitter beast.
Lost potential.
Lost past.
Lost soul.
She is the remainder.
The One That Endures.
The One Who Stands Still.
Remember who she once was.
She is the devourer.
She is the creator.
The waning light and the shock of lighting.
Remember what she is now.
Outsider.
Shell.
Imperfect space.
Mother.
Wanderer.
The Lost One.
The Broken Thing.
She breaks, she mends.
Trys to get better then slips again.
You can't escape the red.
Can't leave the dead.
She sees all their skeletons.
Their blood is on her hands.
In her heart.
Their voices sound in her head.
Screaming their damnation.
Screaming their pleas.
She is a nobody
And you just made a mistake
I grow gardens between my thighs
and bloom roses red like rubies.
My spine is lined with barbed wire for those who dare to climb me.
I bleed rivers of deadly nightshade
and sharped thorns between my shoulders.
Every inch of this golden body is dripping in amber honey.
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
Dear you;


I have tried,

so hard to paint my feelings out for you;

to relinquish those delicate flowers into the raging torrents.


I have always wanted,

you to understand what I do, is for you;

I don’t have to pretend I’m not falling into your fibres and strings.


I have craved your smiles,

to know they are for me, mine for you;

I frolic along with you, hands bound and the world a riot.


I have never wanted to cry for you,

to let myself feel something so large, trembling inside a shell for you;

to feel is also to know I can hurt, wounds and scars do show.


I always was excited by you,

what you could make me sing for, praise in you;

to feel the sudden rise of temperature, soar to new ecstasies.


I have never known that I could predict words for you,

being able to moan and shape them from my tongue;

I know what they are, before you growl them out and

bite me

with those sharped teeth

and I collapse with them

buried deep within,

my head, arms, legs and in between.


Yet, there are things I have always wanted to say to you.

Things locked away, deep;

bottled and barrelled in caverns and crooks.

I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to voice them.

You make me nervous. You don’t help me wrap my tongue around them.

But maybe it’s simply me; I blunder through it all, you know me well.


I have to tell you that I’m sorry we will never be able to know

exactly who we are, together or separate;

there is no one who knows another person so intimately.

We are lovers, but I will never truly know your body like you do;

and for that I only wish to speak in answers.

Never questions.

Or I’ll be haunted by their coldness.


Take care. I love you.

At the same time I’ve already begun to miss you.


Me.
Alexander Coy May 2016
It won't be long, darling,--
till you're back in my life
I know we ended things
on bad terms,

You rented my face
out to a couple of
black eyes;

Told me rent was due
and tore my body in two,

Said it would be better
if I never left the house
and stayed home;
playing nurse to you
and me all day long

I was in the wrong,
so I turned to alcohol,
my acoustic guitar
and started writing songs

After what seemed like
better days rather than
bitter moments, you brought
home someone new,

A skeleton she was,
but you assured it was
just for a few months

What say did I have in the matter?

Night after night,
I could hear you both
groan and murmur
like the walls of
an old mansion;
and every now and then
a ghost would moan
and I'd bury my head
into my knees and sink
further into the darkness

I wanted out,
but it was now
two against one,

and so my body
was contorted, bent
and bruised;

I was the poor
man's exorcist

It wasn't till you both
started fighting, decided
to get married and have
a honeymoon in Hawaii

did I realize that something
terrible was growing in me

I sharped everything
I could find in the house,
knives, razors; hell,
even turned a child's
bat into a vampire's
worst nightmare

and when you two got home,
I let you have it,

the walls still speak
of your silly antics,

mortal
and futile,

as though you were
born insects but
took the form of
strong, confident humans

I put an end to all that
at a moment's notice

I'm on the run now,
but I know deep down
it won't be long till we meet again

You'll be back in my life, darling

and that's a promise
LUNA Jul 2018
So i wanna die. I want to do it now, and i dont want it to be painful. Im crying cause i didnt wanna say goodbye to you. You are the only good thing that ever happened to me. Im sitting on my bed wondering how sharped a knife has to be to penetrate my chest and take my pain away. I dont have any more pill or i would throw it all inside of me and pray for it to work. The tears are painful and im feeling the pressure on my lungs. Claiming for death. I hope that in the middle of the night, with the silence from the streets, I will be brave enough to finish it.
Yo turn me up something,
Nice,
I remember why, i wanted the ice,
Fly wrist,
Wanted to mock Chris,
The styles ludicrous,
Are you peeping this?,
Nah, i wanna be Liverachi,
And eat with wifey,
At the Habachi,
Come off clean, never sloppy,
Latinas called me papi,
Got my rocks off, sturdy,
See the cows herd me,
Until, i found my sanctity,
Throw off the ice,
Now im looking through the dice,
Snake eyes,
Everywhere, you try to enterprise, realize,
They want you, to struggle,
Gambles, of lifes shamble,
I play low like Elden Campbell,
Play ya ears,
To the dope, *** sample,
Ya might get trampled,
Beat stampede,
Let the knowledge bleed,
Over ya brain waves,
These days, like Nate Dogg,
Too many thirty eights,
Only cursing myself, to touch the gates,
Souls of spoils, in a wait,
Tryna get to heavenly fate,
But hells there as well,
Pick and tell,
Which will you chose,
As ya holy grail,
I just let the ship sail,
Over the oceans, sprays is potent,
Storms rumbling,
I see the earth trembling,
Once the stars, disappeared,
I sharped up my spear,
Of knowledge, sun kissed by the homage,
Of angels, in a strangle,
With the demons tryna tangle,
In every angle,
From the degrees now im free,
Now im screaming, **** society,
As taxes take a rise at thee,
Everybody come and join me,
We gonna be,
At the cemetery, one day one say,
A foot from the grave,
My souls on hold, waiting for the days of greys,
Challenge what pastors say,
Now he wanna curse me,
Like he, got the last say,
Carnal minded, so **** blinded,
No even the priest,
Could cosign it,
They know the books, the truth to life,
Yo son, i guard it with my life,
Ya only get, one take,
One move, to slip up,
On one mistake,
See how many, show up at ya wake,
Say they loved you, but when you alive, its only a few,
I stay,
True to this rhyme that i lay,
Now let the beautiful lady,
Voice say,
Classy J Dec 2022
Expressive as onomatopoeia,
Come in with that boom, bang, clash.
That assalamualakum ****.
A dismissive villain with mad ideas,
Make these bad divas act up like Madea.
Rebel and find out *****!
When I lay this piece upon ya sis!
Nobody ruthless as this!
So dark and faceless, ya would think…
I was made in the abyss.
Made something out nothing,
Big bang up in this!
I sustain, pull the clip.
Like Rick James, I’m the ****!
Cold blooded, **** the simp.
Yes I made it, I admit!

Coked out chollos,
Cringe when I hear em say yolo,
Sirens ring out,
Uh oh here come the popo,
The supposed superheroes,
That is till they be tempted by dinero,
Eating out the hands of monsters,
Whose the real bad guy? Al Pacino.
Want protection pay the mobsters.
Wondering the difference between that and our tax dollars?
Don’t kid yourself brother!
Politicians are the real Godfathers!
Where God is replaced by the almighty dollar.
That could turn a scholar,
To a Rottweiler.
A sharped dressed deviant that wears a white collar,
But instead of being arrested they are honoured.
Left feeling sick to my stomach,
Watching this union between cops and robbers.

Living in a reality where dark knights get annihilated.
Matched the profile,
So, better prepare to be violated!
Don’t matter if all your life you’ve been docile.
That **** don’t matter when it comes to hatred!
Where tragedies like the green mile,
Happen every other day!
Justice is dead,
If it ever really lived in the first place!
Caterina Correia Aug 2018
It looks so calm, but i was told not to be fooled
I didnt believe, instead i ignored all the signs
I dipped my feet in the cold wet liquid; eventually it became warm with the sand between my toes
I walked into a pathway of seashells
An invisible basket i had carried in my hands where the shells rested in my arms
The weeds tickled me so i became comfortable going deeper into the water
I felt like i was turning into a mermaid because breathing became easier
As my body went deeper
I felt like a little girl with no worries
Until the sun went down; and i became weak
I couldnt control my breathing,
Then i felt like i was drowning
I was being pulled down from the seaweeds and then the waves had their support
The seashells cut me and i bled with no bandages
Suddenly i couldnt swim
Suddenly i couldnt breathe
I felt tickeled, but not from gentle hands
I was circled from a creature with a sharp object attached to its body
I suddenly fainted as i was stung from the stingray that crept up on me
I felt hypnotized and i couldnt speak
I was brought deeper in the water then i felt squeezed
I was pulled,
I was shoved,
I was held tight from an octopus who was rough
I also felt pinched; i was stuck to its arms and then suddenly i was dragged under water
The suction cups from its body pulled my skin
I wanted to fight but my body just gave in
I was under so much weakness,
Then suddenly i felt more pain
The razor sharped teeth from an eel scraped its mouth all over my frame
As it scraped me, a big creature watches me
Its eyes were dark and its body covered the ocean
I felt caged with no key
I wanted to be free
But then i became close to more teeth
Suddenly my eyes close
My bones were broken
My blood, overflowed
My body ruined
My lungs were crushed
My skin was ripped
And my heart had stopped
It was big
While i was small
I was too weak
It was too strong
I stung myself with negativity
I squeezed my heart to my mind
I pinched myself towards a dark path
I suctioned all the life out of my spine
I calmed myself with the weapon that i used to fight
I fought myself with a razor and then a knife
Finally i swallowed it whole
I swallowed what had to stay
And i swallowed what shouldnt have had to go
I broke my whole body
I broke my own bones
I manipulated my mind
I was the one who swallowed myself whole
My blood poured out
Hoping i was found so someone can lift me out
I felt like a broken mermaid unable to kick
Unable to move
Unable to swim
I felt like i was just born not knowing what to do;
Not knowing whats around
And that being alone was the worst thing to do.
Evan Stephens Oct 2021
Sgailc-nide - the first morning drink, taken while still laying flat on your back

A caustic belt of autumn sun
flings itself through the glass,
yolk wasted across the blood-rug.

Last night's final slug
of scotch sits waiting
on the blackcloth nightstand.

I gather it into my fist,
take a look at the blue syrup
of morning light...

I will tell you all
that the first morning shot
glows like a new blind heart.

This future is mad with silence,
while the past asserts itself
in lost faces, so many lost faces.

I have a bruise on my face
that I can't recall getting.
I don't remember the evenings,

although last night I cut my hair
with a rattling metal hand
that sharped at the skull.

Each morning is a scrape.
I don't recognize this lonely man
in the acid sluice of mirror.
James Conson Aug 2018
I look in the mirror
And see someone broken
Unmotivated and stuck in the
Past with dreams of what could have been

I see eyes burning with tears
A chest coursing cold from heart to shoulders
An ache so deep
It is like a black hole

I met her in my first class of my first year
My professor seemed like an ***
So I turned to the girl next to me
and told her he seemed like one

Her deep blue eyes looked at me
Her pale skin shifted as she turned slightly
Her lips came to a small smirk
And I fell in love

She was more intelligent than I
Always was, and here was a boy
Who thought himself a man
How wrong she would prove him

She told me she agreed, and that perhaps
I should be careful who I told my opinion to
For she was not a student in the class
but his teaching assistant

I was stunned but always clever
So I played it off well
We didn’t speak
For another week

But when we next did it was perfect
Never a moment dull, or lost
Never and idea or motive that was dropped
We were as long friends were

She invited me to join her for lunch
She always made the first move
But I didn’t know I the fish
And she the shark

She was twenty two and I was not
She was hot and I was not
I was lost and she was not
I was uncertain and she was not

She told me
Over that stained table
She had been focused
On her studies In high school

And in college
Too focused for a relationship
But now just a month into her masters
She realized what she missed

I ask myself in the mirror
If I was lucky
Or if someone else had
Taken that seat

And made the joke I did
Or perhaps not a joke at all
If they would have been
Her fish

So looked at me
And asked
If I was willing to give
Everything I had to her

Her blue eyes which marked her
like no girl I had ever seen
Gave me a look so sharp, so hungry
I was helpless and in love

So I was hers
The *** was incredible
Different from anything I had felt before
As we explored one another

And found what we loved
She was always so hungry
A nymphomaniac my friend called her
And I laughed it off as luck

But it drained the color from the edges
Time would slip as if
The *** was fueled by it
And once again I laughed

For what man can complain of ***?
With a beautiful, wanting woman?
None
I was just being cowardly, unmanly

And so months passed
Wilful ignorance and burned bridges
There was her
And there was I

That was all that mattered.

I look back to what comes next
And scream in anger
Shake in spite, for it was I
Who ruined and saved myself

Clarissa
Oh Clarissa
The blonde girl who I met
One random fall day

Partnered for my history class
We met at the end of the class
And walked outside, discussing
What comes next

And as we figured out
A detail
Of a project
I don’t remember

A cataclysmic coincidence
That shakes me to my core
There was my girl
And that is when she and Clarissa met

I had never seen her eyes
Sharped like a blade on stone
For anyone else
But they were there, and they stared at us

Again I was back at the lunch table
I know it not the same I had met her at
But yet I remember it as such
And once again, there was a shark and fish

I leave, for not even a minute
To refill a drink I should have left empty
And return
To a proposal in whispers

So she and Clarissa lead me back
To the apartment
And the whole way
Are arm in arm giggling

Then there is a blur
I’m there in the room naked
She is on the couch and Clarissa
With sun-touched locks covering her *******

She told me she had no interest in women
And her clothed body
And eager eyes
Told me this wasn’t what I thought

She wanted to watch
Me make love
To a woman I had just met
And didn’t love

For her fun, for her interest
And I did
I would be lying if I didn’t say
I enjoyed it

But in the back of my mind
Blinded by arousal
As I had *** with Clarissa
I wondered if I had what it took

To sell my soul to this woman.

There was Clarissa
Again two days later
In history
Where she asked when she could come over again?

Again?
I slammed my fist on the table
But I didn’t
And told her whenever she pleased

What man wouldn’t jump at this chance
I wasn’t a man
Or brave if I didn’t take
these opportunities

But my heart was bound to her
And some portion of her
Got off on Clarissa and I
And what made her happy, I did

So there I was again
In the blur, my time gone and going
Sometimes I was with her
And others I was with Clarissa

Was this love?
It sure had become it
For me
Just a boy pretending to be a man

And then came winter break
Back home
Far away from her
Displaced

I spent hours realizing
My life had become here
The home I stayed in
Had grown up in, was no longer home

Home was her
Her smell
Her hair
Her laugh from the bedroom

And then came spring
And I was back in her arms
And all was good
For many weeks

Then came back
The girl with sun-touched hair
But being away for so long
I wasn’t ready to share my love

Then went
The girl with sun-touched hair
Her time in my life so brief
And intimate, yet meaningless

She asked me what was wrong
I had done it before
What had
Changed

And so I told her
With a voice that I hadn’t used
One that slept in my mind
Always quiet

I could fulfill her needs
All her desires I could solve
We didn’t need Clarissa
Just her and I

And she called me a child.

I wasn’t a man
I was being selfish
How could I deny more ***
How could someone ever not want more ***

I was eighteen, she twenty three
She was a woman
And despite what I had shown her
I was still a boy

Weeks passed
Like a slow burn
Sometimes the spark was back
Other times we were strangers

And then came the end of spring
And the end of her
As she told me she was moving north
To finish her masters elsewhere

She kissed me one last time
Her lips were always so soft
And fit so well with mine
But I was no longer a piece of the puzzle

And then her door shut
And I walked outside
It was hotter now
As sweat poured down my back

Running
I ran
As I always had
Until I fell

And in that mirror I watch myself
Forehead pressed against the asphalt
Asking what I did wrong
How did I ruin perfection

Though it faded to summer
The world was darker
A colder place
One without purpose

But the time I had lost came back to me
And I cried
For the first time in many years did I actually cry
As a man should cry

Eventually color came back to the edges.

As spent time with my dogs
The younger, always making me laugh
And the older
Reminding me of how short life is

As I spent time with my growing sister
Who is intelligent, beautiful, and funny
I never gave her the respect
And care I should have

As I spent time with my parents
My father, who taught me honor
My other father who taught me to be kind
And my mother, who raised me with more love than a **** up like me could ever ask for

I still look in the mirror
And see those broken eyes
But know that with time
And with love, they will heal

And to Lena
Who loved me as fiercely
As I loved her
Thank you

For shattering me
You made me realize
The mirror can be fixed
So I can see what made me
On a Chariot she rides
With love and beauty by her side ,
Sworn to rid this world of sin ,
so love and beauty might enter in .

Devout in her glorious deeds ,
though evil stands ,before her,  ride . ,with sharped claw,
she comes face to face before ,their gods ,of war .
Of those who pedal bigotry  and hate ,
for even they will be slain ,
by the nostrils of Bodicas horses and fiery Maine



For she who rides with beauty and love ,
fights   In valour
for the silver glove .
and with the heart of a sufferget. that is sure .
For every woman who feels oppressed .
To rid this world from It’s dark nights or vice ,
and ****** .
Never again to be afraid to walk the streets at night
through twilight dances in the gas fire light .



And so with lances that glisten and torches that burn
to oust what man once called his slave .
For her Lance is called justice ,
and from her torch integrity burns for
many who are forced to work in chains .
to rue the errors of their ways .

Never again able to read or write ,

wear beautiful garments paraded in their most beautiful light .
So please don’t fear ,
thou deaths claw may soon come swiftly to knock at youre door

For she still rides in glory,
Once ,
and ever more .
Terra Day Apr 2021
Poem: Freebirds
Can you
Can you
Catch me
Vibe along
In tune
In time
With me?!?
The question is rhetorical
The subject
No longer
Is it moot
Put your unwanted
Opinions on mute
Throat grabbing
Verbal chokehold
Like clenched fists
On the clutch
Downshift
Upshift
Time to
Upgrade
Loosen up
You’re too **** uptight
Take a breath
Slow it up
Relax and loosen up
Let that old **** go
Too much wishful thinking
And naïve foolish
Dreaming they keep telling me
But they don’t know
This new me
Throwin judgments
Unbacked
And dumb
Unfounded
Assumptions
With no base
With no realistic
Knowledge
So how they think
They know even
A little bit
What it is
So foolish
For me to do
Now look
What it be
What they do
Who’s complacent now?!?
Not me!!
Must be you!!
Chase now!
It’s on!
I’m on the move
Sone been
Switching
My **** on up
Still they always
Be ta talking
Tryin always
To tell me
What it be
I ought ta do
Keep it movin
On along
That first
Foot out the door
Faded
Flash out
In a haze
Left in a daze
This is real ****
Half them
Shallow ****** *******
They don’t know
What it is
How ta do
Be a real one
Over their head
Don’t got the heart
Ain’t got the nerve
Gutless mouths
Ghost walking
Dumb as rocks
With mouths always
Just runnin
But they can’t
Back that ****
Playin chicken
Hopinp that
The real thing
Ain’t gonna
Come along
And call their Bluff
‘cause all they do
Be
Front
Front
Front
I was down
Crawling cross
Sharp
Painful
*******
Hard to swallow truths
All sharped
And ppJagged
Like bits of glass
Sharded
And pointed
Flesh up
But if you can’t take
Reality’s truths
Sharp as they be
You don’t need ta speak so0
Keep on
Keep on
Moving on
We crawled on
For the sanity
And sanctity
Of our nearly
Exsanguinatedp
Near beat down
Broken bodies
We rose
On a high Eve
One Sunday
Late afternoon
Saviors of
The fallen maimed
Nearly vanquished
Beat down
Hard broke
Population
Of men
Real as they come
Warriors
Home from warring
On our own flesh
Mad minds
Seeking insane truths
From those willing to sit
And sip
Daily on disillusions
And self deception
But we dug 6 feet deep up
Those war fields
In our heads
In our chests
Seeking always
Honor
Justice
Reality
AAunttRuth
We are the real ones
Dug deep in
And healed our own wounds
We won’t drink
The kool aid poison
Of ignorance
And simple
Deplorable excuses
For appalling
Grotesque
Stupid *** ****
Behaviors
of the weak
And brittle minded
Sheep
Choose ta be
Choose ta do
We’re healed
We’re real
We dream
Of popping
The lid off this *****
And flyin the coop
We’re birds
We’ve escaped our death cycle cage
Healed
Our once clipped
And bent wings
Jokes on them stupid 0 sheep
Sipping on their menticide and
In coercive persuasion
Flavored kool aid
Us real ones
Done
Healed you
Repaired you
Those wounds have been long done inflicted
But are Scarred
We observed
And we learned
From your actions
Taught us
What not to be
We won’t seek out
Revenge
For forgiveness
Does truly heal
And liberate
Once wounded souls
It’s the most powerful weapon
We choose to raise
And use
Moving forward
We won’t turn
To repay
Convict
Or condemn you
We
Who are
The real ones
Know truth
We move
And lead
In
By
And with
Love
By example
We Will show you
How it is
You should do
You should choose ta be
We’re rising up
Above all ththat
Low vibrational *******
Forgiveness
And love
Both
Our weapons
And our gifts
The most powerful we can use
We broke free
Popped the lid
Off this *****
And with healed wings stretched
Caught the breeze
Flying free
Escaping our bird cages
So long
Farewell
Giving our best
To those sheep
We fulfilled our dreams
Us real ones
Now free
And that Sunday evening
We rode love’s breeze
And flew that
****** coop
Eternally
Free birds
We will
Always be.

t.day

Gigi Feb 2020
Hey Darwin,
Its all about survival now isn't it ?
Well why the **** am I chasing after knives
If it's true that all creatures want is to stay alive
Well why then Why
Am I such a human paradox

He read me a poem he wrote that night we broke up
Told me he was all sharp edges and I-  all soft edges
In this sort of metaphorical way, he always spoke in mazes
He told me he was hurting me too much he couldn’t do it
And my soft edged life- he couldn’t dare misconstrue it
Of course he hurt me, I was bleeding everywhere all the time
I had cuts on my chest, on my hands, on my lips
He sliced open my heart, my mind, and my hips
My heart beat faster than ever; there were waterfalls of blood rushing  
I always knew his sharp edges were there
I felt them on his chest and in his overgrown beard
I felt them in his fragile ego, distracted gazes, lost in thought moments…. It was weird  
Hey Darwin? Is this what survival is?
Staying up until 5 am with him
Watching sunrise; drowning in existentialism
Still sleepless; still more cuts; still bleeding
He was as aspiring song writer
Drummer, hip hop dancer?Wanted to be an artist, but also get a Phd, or on other days a real job
But maybe he wasn’t real enough for a day job
Whatever, probably he wasn’t
He had sharp edges and bottles of antidepressants
Lived in a foul scented basement apartment with no windows and no kitchen
Hey Darwin?
That doesn’t seem to fit the theory
This sharped knife love- may seem to you kind of scary
Well….
Sometimes still now, I think of his knives and smile
I just want them back to stab me, wake me up once in a while
From my perfunctory lifestyle
My cycle of routine, my wake up, go to bed just to wake up again

Hey Darwin?
Back with him, I was all cut up, sleepless, and starvin
And he was in no way my prince charmin
But in two thousand nineteen, I wasn't looking to survive  
I was just a bored white girl; Seeking ways to feel alive
Graff1980 Jan 2020
It had been a long week.
The news said several children
had gone missing,
and this had parents
and kids all *******
themselves in fear.

Some moved away
but I managed to stay.

Though, I was alone
a stranger came lurking
creeping in my home.

Shadows swayed
as he came my way,
curtains danced
in a wind that I never let in.

Unoiled hinges cringed
and boards creaked
where this being sneaked.

Shadows wavered
like dancing marionettes,
and I felt the return
of a feeling I had
struggled to forget.

A cold hand pressed
upon my bare chest,
and I smelled
his stinking devil breath.

Glowing eyes
took me by surprise.
I tried to rise
but his hand slowly descended
as my flesh caved folding in,
I could feel him shivering
with anticipatory glee.

I asked him “why me?”
He smiled and said
“I’ve been dead
for a long while,
but I felt a string pulling me
and stumbled for over a mile.
When I first saw you
I suspected
that somehow
we were connected.”

His arm disappeared
up to the elbow.

But I knew something
that he didn’t know.
The anxiousness
I was feeling
had slowly subsided,
and now I was becoming
super excited.

He lost his eerie grin.
His sharped teeth chattered
and eyes shifted quickly
to my chest then my face.

His elbow disappeared,
and soon he feared
the rest would follow
collapsing into me
as if I was hollow.

He struggled in vain
to reclaim control.
and I laugh at that.

“It is funny” I said,

“but how could you know.
Sometimes better predators
stalk their prey
out there in the cold
and sometime
they lure other monsters
with their favorite fresh flesh bait.”

I burped as I digested
what I just ate.
Smiling because now
it was very late.
I was full and tired,
ready to retire,
safe and sound
cause I had found
the monster out there
and he was in here
where a lot of other
monsters
ended up.
King’s reigning hand on top of his jester’s cap
Wind in both their eyes, and fire descending from the sky

Snow in oblivion.

King’s castle down unto the earth
He knew the bet was lost- known for a long time.
And thy nursing vines regrow
Although not accustomed to the distorted confusion,
Of reality.
Alongside, The moon pours it’s sympathy down upon them
It’s hands on nature’s heart

Snow in oblivion

Tantalizing thoughts rush through the blood
In king’s veins
His hand still resting upon the cap
Tears stream down his opulent clothes,
Wealth matters no longer.
His laughing companion for a short while remains quiet
His once vibrant chuckle,
Now only an echo that continues across the horizon.
The silence moves mountains,
Forces a slight bow of his head,
His cap falls slow-motion.

Snow in oblivion

And bravely he takes the hand of his lord,
Picks up a sharped piece of limestone from the castle
His grand, insubstantial castle,
And slowly pushes it into the hand
Deeper
please
Deeper.
King does not move
He yearned to suffer for something,
Needed, longed for it
Is what his flesh manifested into his heart
And the silence, suspended by his “royal” blood
gushing forth from his skin

Drop, drip
Snow in oblivion.

It was neither’s fault for the world’s collapse
Eventually it was bound to transpire.
Nothing was of merit forthwith,
Their sole purpose forgotten,
Stolen.

Falling with no intention,
He lays with himself
And fantasizes of an age where his resolve was absolute
Now the only motive is to end it all
And wait for his mirth to recover from the edges of his world;
Bring him value- he cannot produce

They are the oblivion in snow
Trust in his lordship

— The End —