Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
seethroughme Mar 2010
lazy fly on my leg
beer brain and belly
turning on a bed
of cool cotton sheets
golden sunlight
envelops my head
saturday afternoon nap
i smiled as i slept
Nat Lipstadt May 23
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation

raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down

she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”

gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet

she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of  “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******,
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm

I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup

her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments

parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,

copied right from the tongue of a woman!


and she would be wright...
complementary to
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3155692/excerpt-my-muddled-woman-mind/
a tribute to all the women that have inspired so many of my poems

19/23/05
CA Guilfoyle Jul 2012
You were born of oceans,
glacial upheavals melting
a temperate forest of raining seas
I climbed your stair step moss
to see night stars mingle with fir trees
I watched through the night
only sleeping when stars did,
when birds came echoing
through your woods,
at first light, in mists of fog
verily I slept  
in forest song
Matt Shade Nov 2018
Somewhere far from the stars, I slept,
and dreamt a dream where I dug a hole
in the sand, which fell as pyramids wept-
I dug too deep; Earth swallowed me whole.
I freed myself finally from that lonely prison
in which I would witness the hour or minute,
while many long years were evading my vision
and spinning a world with no trace of me in it.
Now, I'm a spirit who sings this to every soul
that wishes to flee these waves of sorrow
by sipping some cyanide from a bowl:
Refuge which we take, we borrow
from the children of tomorrow.
Here in this room is the coal scuttle. Sitting precariously close to the fire is the photograph. In the photograph is a shadow on a wall.

In this wall resides a mind which never sleeps. It never rests. Nor does it permit me to rest. Time passes and each time I place the image in the fire I hear a startled scream. The edges of the Polaroid curl up and burst into blue flame. The edges of my mind are plastic; malleable neurons that have been distorted by that shadow.

In exhaustion, I have collapsed for what seems minutes and awake each time to the rustle in the scuttle. The sound of a cornered rat ready to lunge at my throat? No, the photograph has survived every time. It is always there;  waiting, watching, listening, eager to continue it's burrowing into my mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The shadow has emerged from the background and seeped into my room. It wants me. It lies on my skin and enters my pores.
It is pulling me into the photograph and I am no longer myself.

A stranger enters my room. She looks curiously at the photograph.

I look back from the shadows of which I am a part. A hand discards me into the fire. I scream in terror and cry out. Soon it is over and I look at the room. In my bed that young girl sleeps. She is restless and as her eyes open she looks disturbed. I have become what she will become. Terror leaks from her lungs and she screams! Her screams resonate with my own. The photograph is hurled into the fire again in unsedated shock. My mind explodes with fear and it is then I notice the shadows are a crowd of shadows. A multitude of collected tenants.

The girl collapses once again. The fire flickers. The coals remain unstoked. A scuttle rests beside the fireplace. I stare out from the photograph.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
And there I saw the perfect bed.
Just the perfect size, height width everything I could have dreamt.
I imagined the perfect sleep in my perfect bed.
Never quite seeing home the same again.
It came equipped with sheets and blankets even a heated mattress.
This bed was better than anything I could have imagined.
I climbed her leg and slipped myself in her pocket.
I haven't slept this good in a long while
Manda Clement Jul 2014
We did not come here on the orders of others
We came freely, our own choice, blown by the soft winds
scattered o'er many a mile
Landed upon Flanders Fields and rested a while

Then death came, disturbed the earth
Destruction hit the ground in which we slept so quietly
Awoke us from our slumber sweet
To witness tragedies and defeat

Now we are risen
and in our place beneath lie men and boys of courage, strong and true
Who fought valiantly but now lay slain
Our gentle roots entwine around their bodies that remain

Each dawn we wake for them and face the summer sun
At night our gaze doth meet moon
We stand tall and proud and dip our heads
And honour them that lie beneath with our petals red
Another WW1 inspired poem. Poppy seeds can lay dormant for many years before flowering. This is what happened on the battlefields of ww1. The earth was disturbed with all the shelling and death and destruction and released the seeds that had been laying dormant. How beautiful yet so sad.
Daniel Feb 17
In a graveyard, a little being
slept on the bench
while people passing by
wondered
what it was doing there
but little did they know,
the being came to say
its bye-bye.

Danny
When I feel suicidal, I always visit the graveyard and end up crying because deep down I know that I am loved and my grave would be filled with flowers. However, I only know it and can´t really feel it.
It´s like feeling lonely when you know you´re not and it´s killing me.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
I fell asleep on a runaway train
Trying not to go insane, oh no
I felt alive but couldn't decide
If I wanted to live or die
Or spend another night / without you

I boarded as the sun went down
And there was no one else around, oh no
I slept against the windowpane
Hearing dreams and the falling rain
As I ride towards nowhere, without you

The endless fields go on and on
Like the pain when you said so long, oh no
I held in my weary hand
The letters of a lost romance
The words all seem empty, without you

As the sun rose in the East
From my dreams I've been released, oh no
The rhythm of the railway car
Makes me wonder where you are
And if I'll be alright, without you
These are lyrics for a song I've written. Heartbreak is good inspiration.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2016
It rained last night while he slept
in the chair, waiting for her -
I mean for the rain to bedeck
the olive tree with her silver perls
and cause a stir
in his reason and imagination -
a spur.
But the rain came while he slept.

She came and came and came -
for nothing.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, May 17; revised on July 30, 2016
Spenser Bennett Mar 2016
I woke up off Broadway.
Not that Broadway.
I made good on my farewell.
She said she would call.
I stumbled home in the morning light.
Hailed the sun as a friendly face.
The *** and ***** eked from my pores.
Leaving their mark on my muddled mind.
Like dirt in the puddle.
Oh how wasted my life has been.
I slept through the day.
Awoke in the early evening glow.
Refreshed and ready to take on the night again.
She didn't call.
She never called.
Jordan Rowan Feb 2016
High Priest Paul stalks them in the night
He promises forgiveness by the edge of his knife
He never stops to question or hesitates to bite
Believe in him and he will make it right  

Scar-Faced Jake doesn't like to wait
He murders Myan time and claws the hands of fate
He bullies his way to the top of the state
He wears a velvet hat and sells you ****** bait

Senator Chris keeps his lovers on a list
A check for every thrill and a line for every kiss
Somewhere, out there, far beyond the bliss
There's kids wondering where their daddy is

Groovy Jungle Jim buries his guitars
Played them like a fiddle in middle country bars
Slept with the lowlifes and wannabe a stars
His voice is the air and his clothes are in the yard

Ali of the Valley sees the starry sky is clear
Reflecting in her eyes like a cosmic mirror
Wondering if the universe looks at us and sneers
While the people on the earth scoff and call her weird

Mr. Priestess Slim puts the bottle on the floor
It's full of whiskey eyes but just a moment more
Someone is rapping on his chamber door
But when he opens it up, he starts a holy war
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
Somewhere in the night
Before we settle down
I can hear the distance closing in
How long has it been around?
It's likely that I haven't slept
Or even stepped out in the rain
But if I promise you once again
I think I'll go insane

Do you believe in me?
Do you believe what I say?
I'm sick of hiding it
Maybe I'll throw it away
I'm impossible to understand
But then again, honey, so are you
We're like fog over cities
Covering up the awful truth
Jordan Rowan Feb 2016
Slept in and saw the moon fall asleep
Dead motor rising underneath my ***** sheets
Camped out for days to see a love of mine
But she met a man, now I'm trying to **** some time
I feel like a ghost on highway 5

Caught dead with my spirit in my hand
Claim your prize when I help you understand
You think of love but I think of fun and games
Regrettable nights with moon howled names
I feel like a ghost in your brain

Burnt out exhausted with roads in my eyes
Fought for once but now I'm despised
I want to drive until my engine starts to rust
Until the memories I had turn to ******* dust
I feel like the ghost of teenage lust

Improper sayings that sting under the skin
Emotions like to implode you from within
Have you seen my head, all lit up with desire?
But you were the one to light it on fire
I feel like a ghost too dead to be tired
Dogfood Williams Aug 2013
I autoflog like a friar
who fell to ******* one
two
too many times
by letting these songs play
the ones we heard in the dark
the baby birch and the *******
eternal king
and the grimes and the glows
of those nighty night lights
that cast on your blue veins
an idea that you had died
peacefully while you slept
any more I die while I sleep
attacked by wolves like me
and a basket of fruit
laura Aug 2018
we talk a lot of it
i'm afraid i'm as empathetic
as a piece of damp paper

slept together and then talked
about pokemon and programming
yeah, i wish i went back
to the way things were before
i messed it all up

but today is different
i'm not the one messing things up
on the sidelines trying to be a good friend
lauren Nov 2016
i have slept restlessly for  nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden.

love always,
me
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
I slept a little last night
But I don't think I closed my eyes
I'll tell you I'm alright
You should know I'm good at lies

I'm tired and terrified
And I'm sick of being scared
My brain is kinda fried
Maybe I'm just unprepared

Maybe a change of scenery
Will cure my misery
I'd like plane tickets but I can't afford 'em
So I'm going to Portland

I had a drink last night
And I was nowhere to be found
I'd like to think it was one drink
Only if the whole bottle counts

I'm a servant to the rush
And I believe in laying low
But when someone says to hush
I like to give it to them slow

Maybe I need to leave
So my mind can finally breathe
I don't need no beach of sand
I'm going to Portland
By David John Mowers

Oceanus, Acheron, Styx and Gyges, Phlegethon,

Phaeacians lament, mourn the loss, Scheria, dissolved in froths.

Virgil’s tale, found correct, a land too good, a nation wrecked,

Nausikaa, burn the ships; their minds released, cool airy nips,

Below the wave, watery grave, submerged to bottom, fathoms by stave,

Fathoms some more, until the whorl, descending to, another world.

Through Omphalos, to Land of Sleep, awaits a beast, where time has ceased,

Darkness here, underworld, cold and frigid, below the whirl,

In solemn grave, souls released, judged and counted, by the beast,

Deeper than, the deep itself, past drowning fairies and dying elves,

Who did mourn them? Those golden men, magic mariners, Mino's kin?

What wrong was seen? What vice not true? What awful sin? What did they do?

One thousand years, first black age, Two thousand more, to find the stage,

Cast off Aries and cast Orion, to find beginning, of Golden Lion.

Man of Heavens, Beast agrees, Bull of Sky, Ox of seas,

Land of Punt, Land of Éire, Ogyges blue, hearts on fire,

All the seashores, all the mines, Tribe of Dan, from ancient times,

Port of Sais, Port of Thera, Port of Lagash, bygone era,

Sailor’s horse, Minotaur, a lyre is crying, strummed guitar, nation dying, abattoir.

Ochre foams to sanguine depth, there they rested, where Kronos slept,

He’ll never answer, he doesn’t care, we’ll never know, if this was fair.

Our hearts in sadness, hands on the gates! I curse you Poseidon!

. . .and your Sea of Fates!
Every historical and mythological reference to the kingdom of Atlantis which was destroyed by it's founder; Poseidon. All of the characters including the archaeological agreement on the historical basis along with Geo-location as well as an approximate age of occurrence, extent of the kingdom set to metered rhyme.
jane taylor May 2016
in the heart
of the night
a slice of moonlight
cascading
beckoned

i rouse
its mesmerizing lure
gently stirs
a hazy
remembrance

entranced
from shadows i emerge
hearkening its echo
you’re dreaming
awaken

its shimmering light
engulfed me
prying open my stubborn eyes
in the onyx
darkness

its silver glow
enticed me outside
i stood silent
whilst glistening dewdrops
danced on my toes

a sterling lunar crescent
enlightening midnight
softly
serenades
me

wake up
life’s a trance
you’re
hypnotized
mesmerized

in an ocean of emptiness
i heard
a celestial orb
calling
and ne’er slept again

©2016janetaylor
Next page