"shoving" poems
Basketball stands for war or battle.
That's why I think about the players'
personalities, in my foxhole or squad.
Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan
especially can pass making him master
and commander. To defeat them as we did
is pst satisfying. Ben's five year old son
disdains to answer my question
Why are you you?
But I'm not here
to catalogue the men's personalities.
I like them. But each of us has moved on
many times, when ___________ suddenly died
the games went on with hardly a mention
and his name has since been forgotten.
But even this, absolute mortality
of not just our bodies but our names
and souls is not what I came
to talk about. Yesterday, between games,
I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes
the high school. He mounted an impassioned
defense of reading as the indispensable skill
when I suggested math, the scientific method
and history are essential too.
Also between games
Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald.
I was moved by the care he took to satisfy
his curiosity, concerned the subject might be
difficult. He's a political science teacher so
I took the opportunity to ask What ails
the republic? Of course I answered myself
wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq
and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing
I thought, treating the subject with a light touch
heretofore lacking.
But none of this is what I came to say.
A new guy, long quick and strong, a
bulldozer under the boards with a good
outside shot if needed got into a dispute
with the other Bob who likes to tell people
what to do sometimes, about an offensive
foul Bob called which we almost never do.
The new guy said If you can't take it don't
play under the boards which is what I say
when I'm ****** and don't give a ****
Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me
all day. I said He doesn't want to be
pushed and shoved which got a wry
smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Life is like a pizza. You crave for a larger one, thinking that you're hungry enough to finish everything yourself. That's like yourself 10 years ago, wanting to become an adult. Now that you're halfway there, all you want to do is go back to being a kid. Sometimes the pizza is too hot, and you've got to wait for it to settle down before shoving it down your throat. The same way, life gets a little rough sometimes, so you sit and wait impatiently, till it gets better. Sometimes, the pizza's too cold. So you heat it up a little. The same way, life gets a little boring sometimes. So you get yourself involved in **** that doesn't necessarily need your attention, under the name of "you only live once". Some pizza toppings are pushed away, because you don't like how it tastes. The same way, you neglect people just because you don't like them. On the other hand, you can't get enough of some pizza toppings. They're too good to stop eating. Those are like family and best friends, you just can't stay away. Although sometimes too much of the same topping makes you want to throw up, you order it the next time anyway, just because you like it. All said and done, at the end of the day, you finish the pizza. That's like death. You really wish there was more pizza, but there's just no more. Sometimes, there's too much, you throw it away. That symbolises suicide. When there's too much to deal with, and you just end it. The only difference is, you can always order another box of pizza, but you can't order another box of life.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Try not to think about it
Shove it down ....way down
Don't show it
Its bubbling up, it wants to escape
I don't know how long I can hold it
I'm not that strong
I want control over it
But it consumes me
I am it
And it is me
I wasn't always this way with it
I never would shove it down
Until one day I was mocked for showing it
I was told I was weak
Because everyone has it ... and they can control it
Its all in your head , your a cry baby
I believed it
Why couldn't I control it ?
Next time I'll try my best
But I feel it again....its about to escape
I can't let it
I try shoving it down ....way down
But that doesn't stop it
Now its flowing out of me like water
I need to stop it
I run to my room , lock the door,shut off my phone
So no one can see it
I look in the mirror
Puffy face and bloodshot eyes are the result of it
I sit in front of my fan
The cool air dries it
I sit until all the evidence is gone
Until I can walk out of my room and deny it
I have to ... I'm not a cry baby
I can do this
I am it
And it is me
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
I have this theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum.
When I was a kid, my tongue was a permanent shade of bright pink. Shoving as many pieces of BubbleYum into my mouth as I could fit was the epitome of happiness, and when I could fit an entire package at once I knew there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.
And I’m sure that right now if you cut me open my stomach would be a fluorescent pink, because
when I see your face in my mind as I’m sitting in class or
when your name is on my tongue before I fall asleep,
that’s what it tastes like.
Bubblegum.
But please don’t cut me open. My dissection would be too ****** anyway, and far too colorful to detect butterflies…
Because my blood runs red, white, and blue.
When I was younger my mom would always tell me that as I grew older my tastes would change. Of course, she meant that eventually I would grow to like peas, but even though that still hasn’t happened, she was right.
Back then red, white and blue tasted like
hamburgers
and apple pie
and baseball.
But just recently I cut my finger –
and as I brought it to my lips I tasted
lingonberries
and fish and
skiing.
Have you ever wondered why blood tastes like metal? It is the
SWORDS and SHIELDS
that flow through my veins,
passed down from ancestors of millennia past. And every time I am injured it pours out in protest, those ancient warriors urging me to fight against this strange land and this strange culture.
I was born away from home, as were my parents and grandparents before me. And as I feel the shapes of foreign words in my mouth they taste like meeting an old friend. Because I’ve come to realize that my blood never ran red, white and blue.
It runs rødt, hvitt og blått.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
(March, 1919)A LIAR goes in fine clothes.
A liar goes in rags.
A liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
And the stonecutters earn a living-with lies-on the tombs of liars.
Aliar looks 'em in the eye
And lies to a woman,
Lies to a man, a pal, a child, a fool.
And he is an old liar; we know him many years back.
A liar lies to nations.
A liar lies to the people.
A liar takes the blood of the people
And drinks this blood with a laugh and a lie,
A laugh in his neck,
A lie in his mouth.
And this liar is an old one; we know him many years.
He is straight as a dog's hind leg.
He is straight as a corkscrew.
He is white as a black cat's foot at midnight.
The tongue of a man is tied on this,
On the liar who lies to nations,
The liar who lies to the people.
The tongue of a man is tied on this
And ends: To hell with 'em all.
To hell with 'em all.
It's a song hard as a riveter's hammer,
Hard as the sleep of a crummy hobo,
Hard as the sleep of a lousy doughboy,
Twisted as a shell-shock idiot's gibber.
The liars met where the doors were locked.
They said to each other: Now for war.
The liars fixed it and told 'em: Go.
Across their tables they fixed it up,
Behind their doors away from the mob.
And the guns did a job that nicked off millions.
The guns blew seven million off the map,
The guns sent seven million west.
Seven million shoving up the daisies.
Across their tables they fixed it up,
The liars who lie to nations.
And now
Out of the butcher's job
And the boneyard junk the maggots have cleaned,
Where the jaws of skulls tell the jokes of war ghosts,
Out of this they are calling now: Let's go back where we were.
Let us run the world again, us, us.
Where the doors are locked the liars say: Wait and we'll cash in again.
So I hear The People talk.
I hear them tell each other:
Let the strong men be ready.
Let the strong men watch.
Let your wrists be cool and your head clear.
Let the liars get their finish,
The liars and their waiting game, waiting a day again
To open the doors and tell us: War! get out to your war again.
So I hear The People tell each other:
Look at to-day and to-morrow.
Fix this clock that nicks off millions
When The Liars say it's time.
Take things in your own hands.
To hell with 'em all,
The liars who lie to nations,
The liars who lie to The People.
10.5k
I stand so proud and tall.
With my nose pressed against the wall.
I know I was naughty, is this why your punishing me?
pssng my pants, you make me get on my knees.
Naughty Boy! Naughty Boy you shout.
After your done smelling that, I am washing your mouth out!
My nose sore from being punished by you.
What next? What now are you going to do?
the bar of soap inserts my mouth all the way to my throat.
I wont be naughty anymore than my privates were groped.
I know I looked in your ***** drawer today.
Now I am going to really pay.
Trying them on I know there for you.
I guess this naughty boy had no clue.
Putting them on my head and shoving them in my mouth.
Still at the same time washing my mouth out.
Waiting for you to come back today.
I am not scared Iv’e been naughty in every way.
No please I am not hungry, don’t make me eat the vegetables.
I sit and pout at the kitchen table.
forcing them into my mouth and making me swallow.
You lead on a leash and I am forced to follow.
I am your pet, your naughty little slave.
And it’s almost time to play.
But we both know what comes first.
The cutting of my arms to satisfy your thirst.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
i slipped the silk fabric over the curve of my hip and the scarred flesh of my thigh in a dressing room with three of my friends behind me, ******* in the fat of my stomach. they say black is supposed to be slimming but it only made me bloated; maybe the mirror was a liar (i know it didn't lie). an elephant with too-thick eyeliner and a too-thick body stared back at me and i bit through the skin of my lip till it bled and i wanted to live on some other planet where elephants were appreciated.
"that's the best one you've tried on yet," someone said, but i couldn't hear them over the red-eyed demon within me which whispered of shoving two fingers down the trachea, messy but quick, everything gone in an instant. if this was my best one, i was doomed because my eyes were glazed over with the misunderstanding that beauty would never apply to me.
"i'm just gonna go- go to the restroom-" and the red eyed thing inside me cracks its whip, takes over the nerves in my brain, makes my legs sprint to the toilets and it's over, it's done, the food gone among stomach acid, falling hair, and teeth erosion.
i can only imagine what the restaurant worker who was forced to clean rainbow-coloured ***** in the toilet thought.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
If somebody asked me if I still loved you
I'd say yes
If they continued to ask me what I loved about you
I would say
I loved how you laughed at the things I said. The way you stopped mid sentence and kind of chuckled. You'd cover your mouth and your eyes would dance and your shoulders would shake a little.
I would say
I loved how your hands played the piano. I always knew that there was some beauty in humans but never like the sight of your fingers dancing over the keys. You played so effortlessly, like it was nothing. I could have listened to you forever.
I would say
I loved the way you obsessed over your hair. I know I would always rag on you for being too into it, but it was endearing. Whenever you played with it a little I wished that I could do that too. I also loved the smell of the gel you used.
I would say
I loved how the sun hit your eyes. It would make them spark like you had something witty to say, and most of the time I think you did. The blue would look like the underside of a flame, bright, hot, burning. I think I hurt myself on them.
I would say
I loved how you breathed. Just sat there breathed. I wish I could have laid my head on your chest for longer, held my breath for longer to hear your heart beating. Sometimes giving up my life just to be in yours seems like a better option.
I would say
I loved when your glasses would slip down your nose when you were concentrating, whether it be on music or schoolwork. You'd push them back up with the delicate tip of your middle finger, shoving them back up to the safety of the bridge.
I would say
I loved the way your arms looked around my waist, like there wasn't a single thing that you wished to hold more. Your smooth skin was what I wished I could feel on mine again. I don't think there's another thing I wished I could touch once more.
Lastly, I would say
I loved how you tried to stick around until the very end. It wasn't easy for you, I know. But ******* it you tried. I think that's what I loved most about you, that you didn't give up because it got too hard. You gave up because you knew that I wasn't ready. I'm never going to be.
The only thing I hate is how I have to write all of this as "loved" and not "love" because I'm supposed to have let go of something this trivial a few months ago.
I'm sorry.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
Fill the hollow crevice of my existence
With light, show me a warmer way
Stop numbness from taking over
I am slipping further0 into dismay.
Down the senseless pit of despair
My direction is out of control
Darkness paralyzes my mind
Strangling thoughts that crawl and roll
Constricting my body until I give up
I kick the air but cannot land a blow
The empty space will never stop resisting
The sound of my own scream has become my foe.
The endless void swallows my voice
Here the tears I cry fall forever
The lies I have told mean nothing now
I knew my will was always meant to sever.
Faced with nothingness all around
This is my life; a big black hole
It's slowly shoving me outwards
Little by little, pain taking over my soul.
Chaos has reality gripped
In a tight but unsure grasp
Confusing the mass of color
And motion contained in its clasp
Bullied by the tidal wave of isolation
Head above water though it is strong
Giving up the ability to move
Surviving by the current floating me along.
My consciousness is traveling lethargically
I no longer feel my torso or limbs
Attempt to wiggle a finger but it won't budge
It takes all my strength to speak and part dry lips.
This is where existence ceases
Where time's beginning meets its end
An unending loop of monotonous emotions displayed
A breif instant in which Eternity life does suspend
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
A head, gnashing and screaming
Forgiving my unknown hospitality
Pretty is weakening
I'm a fatality deemed
Obnoxious is my scene
The mocking and mimicking comes easy for me
No secret, I envy the earth's energy
Depressed, sitting in my fancy dress
Shoving and tugging with desirable credibility
I ravish my personality
Amused?
As I show my tender meat bleeding
Kissing, authentic generosity
A bit suggestive
Confidence in deranged descriptions making others nervous
Excuse me, I must leave my head is blistering,
Popping,
Gushing and oozing profanities
Dented durability, consume me
I love the fact I'm lacking
Becoming one with the barbaric queen
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
you are a
devil hiding in the details
i would rather not explore.
waiting behind every corner,
an omen I try to ignore.
you hold me by my throat
every single night in my sleep.
kissing, shoving your split tongue
down my throat to muffle my screams.
a kind of haunting no one else knows.
a nightmare like sequence,
some kind of hellish dream.
I wake up to find you
sleeping peacefully beside me.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Vengeance is for God to have, But today I lay religion down to rest
The demon in my mind has been relentless, whispering at my behest
He has been in his cage far too long, he is unyieldingly repressed
I not only want to free him, I want to put his imagination to the test
My mind's eye dark and searching, the corners of my sinister mind
I have now become your worst fear and mine devils intertwined
My mental and emotional state, has made the inhumanity refined
I hate how you made me long for your pain, I am now your kind
Your flesh is but a canvas and your screams will be to no avail
You’re now mine, your soul will beg for mercy on the grandest scale
I will assault your every sense, leaving no minute detail
Until your body is lying lifeless, pointless, broken and frail
I will take my time to revive you, bringing you back to my device
There will be no amount of pain I inflict, that my heart will suffice
Before I am done with your miserable existence, infliction so precise
I will nourish every animalistic desire,until we felt you paid the price
You have uprooted in my heart an evil, that cannot be undone
The angel of death is upon you waiting, your suffering just begun
There is a special place in hell for you and I want you to see it
And if I burn with you for my revenge, then I say so be it
Taking your pride, shoving it down your throat with my baron hands
all that I can taste right now, what the voice in my head demands
For you there is no more wasted life, your breath will let you endure
And there is no second thought behind my vengeance, my hate is pure
With deeds now done and lifeless you lay
At my feet, which death did not show haste
A smile without tears did appease my lust
For your soul and blood that I did taste
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 6:45 AM UTC
leaving doesn’t mean i didn’t care
or that i no longer liked the taste
of your lips pressed deeply against mine
leaving doesn’t mean i didn’t love you
it doesn’t take away the meaning
of words spoke
of feelings felt
leaving just meant i couldn’t keep
loving
you
for it was bad for my health
leaving, leaving, leaving
the most popular word in my vocabulary
a topic flooding my mind for months
repeating, repeating, repeating
make it stop
leaving looked like
a strict diet of fingernails
and bones crushed into salt
it was swallowing chalk dust to begin the day
shoving shards of glass into the scars of my heart
trying to get my feelings to change
*** and *** and *** and ***
maybe it would awaken the part of me that still loved you
it was ripping myself from the comfort of my own home
standing alone in the woods
it was being afraid of the dark
and nightmares upon nightmares upon nightmares
it was swallowing my own heart
but leaving you..
it lead to a fresh start
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
I
Go on, high ship, since now, upon the shore,
The snake has left its skin upon the floor.
Key West sank downward under massive clouds
And silvers and greens spread over the sea. The moon
Is at the mast-head and the past is dead.
Her mind will never speak to me again.
I am free. High above the mast the moon
Rides clear of her mind and the waves make a refrain
Of this: that the snake has shed its skin upon
The floor. Go on through the darkness. The waves. fly back
II
Her mind had bound me round. The palms were hot
As if I lived in ashen ground, as if
The leaves in which the wind kept up its sound
From my North of cold whistled in a sepulchral South,
Her South of pine and coral and coraline sea,
Her home, not mine, in the ever-freshened Keys,
Her days, her oceanic nights, calling
For music, for whisperings from the reefs.
How content I shall be in the North to which I sail
And to feel sure and to forget the bleaching sand ...
III
I hated the weathery yawl from which the pools
Disclosed the sea floor and the wilderness
Of waving weeds. I hated the vivid blooms
Curled over the shadowless hut, the rust and bones,
The trees likes bones and the leaves half sand, half sun.
To stand here on the deck in the dark and say
Farewell and to know that that land is forever gone
And that she will not follow in any word
Or look, nor ever again in thought, except
That I loved her once ... Farewell. Go on, high ship.
IV
My North is leafless and lies in a wintry slime
Both of men and clouds, a slime of men in crowds.
The men are moving as the water moves,
This darkened water cloven by sullen swells
Against your sides, then shoving and slithering,
The darkness shattered, turbulent with foam.
To be free again, to return to the violent mind
That is their mind, these men, and that will bind
Me round, carry me, misty deck, carry me
To the cold, go on, high ship, go on, plunge on.
5k
What Relapse feels like
Relapse- a proper noun that steals your attention and commands your obedience
Every person that was a part of your recovery had been lying
The recollection that it did not **** you but it did not make you stronger
Reliving the moment it stopped your living and when it prevented your dying
The feeling that you will not survive much longer
That is how relapse feels
The first taste of fruit after a long and barren winter
A moment of peace in a life measured in seconds
The perfectly straight lines of a newly aligned printer
A demand for piled servings and SECONDS!
That is how relapse feels
The need of a familiar place; of a familiar face
Desire for someone to hold you tight
The need to go far away; to go to outer space
Desire to leave this world for the light
That is how relapse feels
It's a ripping motion
Between wanting it to end and wanting its intensification
Between having to much and too little emotion
And the worlds between the brain speak languages with no translation
That is how relapse feels
It feels so good just to be so bad
The beauty in the human body's ability to mend and to break
It feels so bad just to be so sad
And the repulsive face of being awake
That is how relapse feels
It's a tearing
It's a tugging
It's a pulling
It's a shoving
Relapse is looking at the sky and thanking God for the ability to be alive
ten minutes before a battle in the head
asking if it's worth it to survive
ten minutes before tears stain so silently alone in bed
It's a promise broken
It's every moment spent clean wasted
It's the truth unspoken
It's the loss of happiness that had barely been tasted
That.
That is how relapse feels.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
I'm screaming
I'm wailing
I'm crying
But you don't hear
I'm begging
I'm sobbing
I'm dying
But you don't hear
You're laughing
You're making fun
You're sneering
Of course I hear
You're shoving
You're tugging
You're jeering
Of course I hear
So deaf are you,
So much I hear
How much has changed
In just one year?
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Singing birds are often better off caged, and maybe I’m no different. Maybe it’s safer, biting my tongue and shoving my hands deep in my pockets when the urge to delineate my woes shivers its way up my spine, shaking the rust from the back of my teeth and loosening the hinges on my jaw. I’m constantly reminded that the world outside my mind is far too dangerous, too brutal for my fragile thoughts, for my feeble words. But every now and then those words get the better of me. They convince me that their songs are worth hearing, that they’ll survive the hell that awaits them. Then, eager and hopeful, they jump off my teeth like a diving board, spreading their wings and gliding out into the world of the unknown, the world of wars waged to divide and battles fought to conquer. I watch as they hang suspended in the air, wings spread, small and beautiful against the ominous background, innocent if only for a fleeting moment. But, of course, beauty has no place here.
I cringe as the shots ring out from all directions, as everyone around me opens fire upon my winged thoughts. I shut my eyes tightly against the firing of guns, arrows, cannons: delivering the message loud and clear that the airspace between me and the world is better left unclouded by my superfluous banter. I try not to watch as they drop from the sky, my unsuspecting words, but my eyes force themselves open. Wings broken, hearts still, they crash to the ground, silenced.
I want to gather them one by one, my feathered thoughts, gently in my hands; I would take them somewhere safe and give them a proper burial, for they were once so near and dear to me. But I’m afraid of what lies in the battlefield. I’m afraid of the landmines and the barbed wire and the trenches. So I bow my head, refasten the locks on my sore, stiffened jaw, and turn my back on the carnage, on the dirt and grass and the haze and smoke. I turn from my defeated birds, form the bodies of my barely spoken words, and I leave them.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC
I’m just so tired of every day. I’m so tired of the gray and the way my body begs me and begs me for just a few more hours of darkness. And I never know if it’s asking that because it feels tired, or because it’s afraid that my thoughts and monsters might drag it out passed its’ limits like it normally does. It’s such an odd thing. I’m terrified of darkness, and sometimes it’s all I crave.
One half of me begs for summer days filled with shooting clouds and soft blankets that are hard to lay on because I’m sweating. The other half wants nights filled with angry music and dark clothing. Piercings and dyed hair, shoving my mouth against a stranger with tingling finger tips from what ever my ‘friend’ had given me only minutes before. One wants a calm surreal happiness. The other wants to get revenge on the world. Exhaust her body until it is filed down to skin and bones. Big heavy bags underneath my eyes that hold nothing but the reminder that I will always be tired. Splotchy cheeks, oh that’s right, I was crying last night. It doesn’t make sense. I feel so much more strongly on one side even though the other is so much better. For me. For me for me for me. But is it what I deserve? Is it what I see myself really wanting?
Who knows. I don’t want to care about me. I want to throw myself away, and in the meantime, hold someone else. Of course I wouldn’t drag them down with me… Or maybe I would.
Maybe I don’t deserve people.
Or at least I should avoid them.
But I can’t be alone, because a lonely life is a pointless one. And if I am pointless, then I am wasted space, and I should not wave my arms around in the air anymore. My lungs should not do their regular function, and maybe, just maybe, my heart could be given to someone who would put it to much better use.
My skin feels overused and overdone.
There’s sand in the cracks of my hands and I swear I will never feel satisfied in anything that I ever do. I am not soft to the touch. I am rough. No one wants to put their hand in mine, and wear me like I am the sea. No one wishes they could spin me around and push me off, so that I would beg and plead for the right direction towards them. No one wants me to love them like I so badly want someone to love me. And I won’t have it. I will never have it. I am not meant for anyone, because I am not meant for myself.
That is the problem. It’s right there. It’s right in my own face.
I am not meant for myself.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
Picking up the pieces from a life half-lived.
Shoving away the dropped dreams that lay
on the floor.
Pacing the room where you lied to yourself
again and again:
Ashamed, you close the door;
and you think to yourself,
that there could've,
should've been
much,
much more.
And yet you continue to be on the side.
In the backseat of your own life.
You are regret
personified
and it's doubt that sits in the front
that's taking you for a ride
straight down the line
to a grave with nothing written on the headstone.
And before you know it
you've lived out your life
and now you've died
with nothing to show,
nobody that minds
because you
are all
alone.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Fed up and in a bad place,
These aren't just emotions of anger and regret for
The situation at hand and the problems
That they are trying to reflect on america to start
Something we could not come back from,
Race wars,
Afraid to ride my bike down the street
Because of racism,
Afraid to date Caucasian girls because of racism,
Afraid to be black but proud,
Because of racism and these crooked white cops
That hide behind badges like cowards and pick away piece by piece at
The people that hasn't started any war since the assassination of
Martin Luther,
Any rule you abide by in law,
They'll still shoot ya,
And make it seem like you struggled or make it seem like
You tried to grab the gun from the holster and fight your way out,
"I'm not resisting ,.,... Stop shoving me , stop punching me , you
******* *****
Naughty by nature , but my mannerism's heaven sent,
When will these cops (pigs),
Stop killing our people and making families moarn,
We're all created by God , so why do y'all just leave people
Torn,
America Peace with love and prayers to my brown skin angels,
It's bad enough with black on black crime at every angle,
Y'all ******* up!!!
Protest , peace treaties , Misunderstood riots,
Using this against us ------> " You Have The Right To Remain Silent",
**** That!!!!!
Yelling to the world that the Justice system is biased,
What's drakest must come to light , well the future's at its brightest,
I love all races , I have white friends,
I wonder would Jesus come When the world ends,
But can't end it with a race war,
I'm ready to spread the word if you are,
Doing it for the kids and the poor.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being told to pass on the pumpkin pie
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being scrutinized over everything you ingest
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being met with questions no matter what you eat or don't eat
"Have some more potatoes, Sarah"
"Haven't you had enough yet?"
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a double standard wrapped up
In a pretty floral bow
Just like the cornucopia in the table's center.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a broken tradition fixated not on giving thanks
But on her every movement in regards to her plate
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is only eating half her helping
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is throwing up each and every bite of it
Into a porcelain garbage bin exactly thirteen minutes later
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is perfecting a purge
Stand up and lean
Time it just right
Dry heave first.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is the second to last time she sees her grandpa
And she cannot even focus on family
Because this disease has intertwined itself into the crevices of her mind
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is her worst nightmare and her favorite holiday
For she is constantly under surveillance
But no one questions her habits that day
So she is free to be sick as often as she likes.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is counting every calorie
Knowing exactly how much she needs to compensate for every particle of food
Polluting her system.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is shoving things into her body
And immediately wanting them out
While having the means to get rid of them.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been shared with her alter ego,
Bulimia.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been a paradox
Hopefully this year she will be able to go alone.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Do you miss her
The Hell's Mistress I used to be
Pretty smiles
Prettier lies
********** you with my eyes
Skinning you with my words
I miss the power that came
In lying to everyone
This angelic facade is suffocating
I miss slipping off the mask
And slipping into your head
Making you my puppet
Then getting bored
And making you wish you were dead
Shoving my knife in your back
When you came
Walking into my life like it was yours
Following my breadcrumbs
Swallowing them whole
Who would have thought
You can hide arsenic so well
With just a hint of sugar
And a short enough skirt
Do you miss her
The Black Widow in my web
Eating you alive
To fill the void inside
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 11:22 AM UTC
We want to understand our world and humans that are in it
situations and events that shake it up and spin it
make our choices, choose our path, convinced that it is 'right'
until we see another path that's just beyond our sight
a different path but yet, the same, with others plain to see
all moving on or standing still, all people, you and me
as paths converge what happens next is basic and is right
no pushing shoving or standing ground, no need to stay and fight
a simple course correction, moving round each other with ease
to continue on our paths, no two the same you see
For all the paths eventually arrive at the same conclusion
that help us clear our hearts and minds removing our confusion
it's not the destination that was paramount, but those along the way
people, lessons, obstacles, that come with each new day
the journey that we travelled bringing thought and clarity
Be glad you chose the path you did ~ Be glad that you now see
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC