"sparing" poems
To the teachers who never really cared and ignored my problems;
To my fellow ***** “misfits”, etc. Who will no doubt receive more abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to push around;
To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;
To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this event from happening sooner;
To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many uncaring faces;
What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal will mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution. Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration worse. But I don’t expect an apology for the false sympathies of people.
As for my fellow students, those who made a more significant impact on my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.
There’s another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who left me alone. Or should I say ignored me. I appreciate you sparing me any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how are you’s did more hurt than any name calling. Your inaction effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
I do not know what awaits me when I get down off this rope. Will there be a void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don’t care anymore. If you’re anything like your people, I wouldn’t want to know you. You preached to love one another, yet I’ve felt everything except love from Christians. Even if I knew you were different, well, I'd still reject you. You have left your “followers” to treat people like me poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you “love”, including me, to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don’t want to spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you keep.
I’m trying to watch TV but I don’t know what I’m watching. It’s so lonely here. I want to sleep but it just won’t come. I’m so tired of hurting and being alone.
I hope that with my death, there'll be a wider awareness for child abuse and the effects it could have on a person. That's the only wish I have right now. A lot of people will be hurt with my passing, disappointed even, or maybe it won't matter. But I'd like to believe, no matter how much of a ****** up person I am, I died for a cause greater and bigger than myself. That's the only consolation that I have right now.
So that’s it. That’s me. Leaving the world to be a better place.
Goodbye - T
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
Abuser
Simple pleasures
Causing pain
Building up
To strike again
Draw them in
Shut them out
Weaving lies
Creating doubt
Love to take
But never give
Life expected
Not to live
Stealing hope
Stifling breath
Broken promise
Courting death
Cruel intention
Deed is done
Self-inflicted
Sparing none
Cori MacNaughton
8Apr99
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
She is disinterested in small talk beyond the park benches.
She longs instead for late-night confessions,
for the quiet unraveling between sentences—
the hidden chapters you both never dared to read out loud
She has no fondness for candlelit dinners
or anniversaries dressed in silverware and manners
What she wants is the open road at dusk,
the wind like a dare,
no map, no compass—
just the delicious risk of getting lost together
She detests the pop songs blaring from car radios,
those perfect little lies that everyone sings along to
She belongs to the sound of something raw—
a forgotten folk song, an aching guitar,
a voice that cracks where it shouldn’t
Her room is lined with vinyls and dust and memory
And no—she doesn’t want drizzles or passing breezes
She wants the storm;
The hurricane that splits her open,
the tsunami that drags her under—
because only in the wreckage
does she remember what it means
to feel
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
You have seen those cheerful kids
Flying kites high up above
Bearing a happy heart, lighter than a feather
No worries, just innocent thoughts.
The kites feel like they've conquered the silver clouds
Though they fly many many layers beneath 'em
Their abstract vanity and enduring pride
got them strangled over tree tops.
You have seen those sulking self-haters
Flying kites high up above
With a hope to escape memories of the ghosts
To forget the evil they long ago bore.
The kites, they seem to refuse to speak
Owning souls too heavy to fly,
Urging to die.
You have seen those random kites
Stringless, wandering in the sky up above
Lost their way trying to discover themselves
Ending up somewhere and falling in love.
The kites, they feel they are way too different
To survive with the other ones in a normal world
Hungry souls, creative eyes
In a clear blue sky, they don't know where to hide.
Tangled strings, tired wings
Irritating distractions, infinite other things
Restless kites, not even sparing the dark nights
Worthy ones and unworthy ones
We all know one thing
Kites are meant to fly.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
I've been ignored and sidelined.
Denied freedom of expression.
Due to poverty, I was laughed at.
I was hurt, broken, and fought against.
Like a bicycle, I kept my balance to keep moving.
Then I won.
I’M THE STONE THE BUILDER REFUSED who’s………..
Passion didn’t come without suffering.
I strived not to be noticed.
I strived for my absence to be felt.
My intention wasn’t waiting for the storm to pass.
The intention was to dance in the rain.
Kneeling before God gave him ability to stand before anyone.
I’M THE STONE THE BUILDER REFUSED whom against all odds:
Forge without questioning.
Loved without condition.
Cared for people without expectations.
Gave without any sparing.
Shared without pretending.
I'm the same stone that turned to be the corner stone.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
It is said...
That the eyes
are the window to the soul
So..
If that's so
I wonder what one must see
when they look into me...
Perhaps...
these dark pools of oblivion
Are.... too deep
That must be why
Some just glance and walk away
Always looking like
My eyes took the life
Out of all .... they wanted to say
Now...
I just wear sunglasses...
Sparing those who would
fall into my inner abyss
I prefer to be incognito...
Internalizing all my own ****
Who says I have to share it
Who says anybody needs to hear it
Complaining is like an infection
First one ...then everybody
falls right in....
Well...
Not me...
Im gonna wear my sunglasses
and keep
all my twisted
****** up emotions
To myself.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
There were once men, playing a lying game.
They had no heart, they knew no shame.
Like Sirens, what their songs told,
were stories of flesh on beds of gold.
Merely this, is what their songs were about,
for wine and flesh they lusted sparing doubt.
For all their bubbles, fizzle, show and gleam,
true love for them was but a funny little dream.
Some, it is true, had the voices of blue suede kings.
Yet, danced on rubble, coughing smoke, 'n' kissing rings.
Thankfully, their lyrics were quite naturally cold,
faintly sparkling true hearts, despite their gold.
No songs can, in the spirit, ever remain,
or one's path meaningfully ingrain,
unless dotted by a hearty blood stain.
Still, some blind and sleepy were enticed,
those who dropped their heart, who'd lost their *****
Much like a robber, who rests his gun in a heist.
Others, scrambled to plug their ears
wishing to avoid both song 'n' tears.
They knew not, that when fighting fear,
'tis not enough to keep it from getting near.
Simply stuffing their ears with wax,
failed to fade the hottest new tracks,
cause tanks groove on these tracks.
As tanks, they pop 'n' roll till you die.
Therefore... relax, pick your time, and lie,
not to your conscience, but on the ground,
so they pass over you, leaving you safe 'n' sound.
"You cannot fear what you haven't tried."
Remember, Odysseus wasn't deaf, only tied.
He, chose to fight and listen to the Sirens' songs,
using threads of logic, to keep from snapping their thongs.
Tightroping on wrong, he but fell to the song.
He wailed and spat, yet, somehow grabbed the gong.
And after a short but needed rest, after this soul defining test,
he did not lament the virgins lost, but carried on with his quest.
He, knew the lying men and their calls were real,
but to forms he didn't kneel, nor aimed to cut a deal.
He, stuck to his dreams doing his best to warn and tell the rest,
that though Sirens charm, they harm. "'Tis Ithaca who gives zest.'"
So, next time you see the chanting men of lies,
and their enchanting plastic bunnies in bow ties,
know that rhyme and shine may polish coal,
but listening to your heart should be the goal.
*"With a twist of logic to correct your steer,
you will run through fear, and forever, keep it rear."*
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 4:27 PM UTC
A reflection of loveliness, you spend tiny
seconds in the mirror,
Sparing not a hand of beauty's lend; to lend
cherished care,
From childish abuse twined in life's hair, your grace
does rush my eye,
In the many,
amongst the traffic of people, your sweetest self
could not deceive,
_Yet..._
As your nature calls to itself, to break
my heart (as you're to branch off, and leave.)
Your beauty is the tombstone, And I
sadly won't find my rest.
_....I indeed loved a mistress._
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 6:29 AM UTC
Along a narrow, vacant street at 2 a.m.
Underneath the threatening lights of peril
An act of ******** was taking place between
A beautiful cigarette and the orifice of my lips
Halloween had not yet dawned upon us
Yet as I walk Jack-O-Lanterns smile at me
Displaying minor quakes of bloodthirsty evil
While a serum of scorn soaks my tongue
With a heartless trick of ice, cold malice
Summoning the entire town to its kneecaps
Devils regurgitate lullabies resembling the sound
Of nails ****** a chalkboard sparing no mercy
Arousing the hopeless romantics
To awaken a graveyard
And **** the corpses until they're
Resurrected from their comas
As the nymphomaniacs ice
Their frozen flesh with *****
Painting an ocean of abstract thoughts
Across the edges of their frames of mind
Do morticians make up the majority
Of necrophilia related crimes?
Maybe so but, I bet they had never felt
A ****** so dry and so cold
Yet still the thrill of chills tickle these criminal's spines
While they measure their screams careful not to awaken
The beautifully disgusting corpses that lie before them
They turn their heads only to find a pair of scarlet eyes
Gawking at them from within a cowardly shield of fear
Darkness was it's home, Mother to all its desires
In my opinion it was just a phase; A massacre encaged
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 4:12 AM UTC
while the debate goes on and on,
as to which country has the longest, continuous
democratic parliament, have it on on good authority
that the subject above,
is it better to love your kids too much than not enough?
was the first among all temporal discussions ever held,
despite periodic tabling, the debate remains unresolved,
the question unsettled even after 1000 years+ of argumentation
when over time, Universal Adult Suffrage finally came to be,
the debate became renewable, enflamed, divisive most contentiously,
various coming down on each side of a point of view topically
since mother, father and child, i.e.
pretty much everyone, definitionally,
claimed total expertise,
and sparing the rod was deemed by most to be illegally,
no plebiscite, amendment or ballot initiative was resolved resolutely,
the beat goes on continuously as new children reach voting age, sagaciously repeating their view, personally
my view?
I’ve tried both and failed equally
so I’ve little to contribute,
so let it be stated in manner unequivocally,
the sweet sensibility says too well,
but helicopters crash and monied snowplows
run over other both their own and others better deserving,
leaving all of them buried in snow piles street side,
while those who blame their faults on insufficient love,
are later most demanding more attention than any,
having becoming painfully hardy, by being treated hard about,
hard on themselves and worse to others
everyone knows the answer to this question for themselves
but I’ll leave you with this,
permitting a child to fail is a winning strategy,
as long as there is no legal limit
regarding the amount or frequency
on lifetime hugging
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 2:14 AM UTC
she is a dream that wakes you up desperate to return to sleep
so as to feel her again, so as to be lured in irrevocably deep
she is as a dragon is when unconscious on the ground
harmless in speculation, not moving, just a heaping mound
stay wary lest she strike with her closed jaws that ache to bite
you will bleed then thank her lavishly with the foundations of your might
for even sparing you the smallest slice of pain from her sculptured lips
for even giving you the privilege of her attention in small strips
she is my dream, she is my glory, it is my spirit she has caught
and i will always be naught but her ever fleeting thought
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Gaze on Aphrodite,
For I am complacent to sing alone.
Walking forward,
Your hair fights the wind.
The truth is bestowed upon me,
Like a bread to a pauper.
Spring turns to fall,
Beauty beheld, now lost.
Time is not sparing.
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
In the eyes of the girl who sat laughing in the corner of the room,
not worrying what the world thought about her,
captivating the world with her sincere personality,
unfolding her humbleness,
letting her guard down for all she could offer,
building no walls of defense..
letting the world watch her and clench their lustful desires on her ,
mesmerized by her inner beauty,
you quench for more of her delicateness,
sparing no innocence for her cries,
violently abusing her fragile soul,
Now what's left of her is an endless vulnerability to fear and hatred,
Traumatic nightmares, permanent scars,
The worst part is you live everyday of your life with no slight regret,
not a glimpse of guilt,
Now she's left only with bits of herself, drying her tears every night as she pick up her leftover faith she has to painfully move on in this cruel world, without a single justice of her suffering...
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Who said that
watch the moon
but can't touch?
Truly a full moon picture
broke the mirror.
Stacking all of it
the sky fills the full jar.
Empties it though
sparing a piece
to every shining star.
Yet a full moon Kohinoor
eyes on all the stars
no one can touch!
Aug 31, 2022
Aug 31, 2022 at 8:44 PM UTC
Always it does,
But I can't shiver,
Coldest in the river,
Deathly river of tears,
Excruciating is the pain,
Filthy salty water it flows,
Grandiose in society kills me,
Hefty personal problems prey,
I can't swallow so I don't eat any,
****** of ego I turn into since long,
Killed me multiple times in a go daily,
Lovelorn I die each moment I try to cry,
Mouthful of unfriendly words help me die,
Name of mine means incomparable literally,
Ostensible concept of love entices me so much,
Put me in a jail and stuff me behind the bars now,
Quailing me is the loneliness that has been forever,
Ruling out few occasions of company I stay so aloof,
Sparing some days of happiness most are depressing,
Toying with my own heart I feel my heart is hydrogen,
Unattractive it is not & it could not stay segregated ever,
Volumes of my voice have died out & so has my hearing,
Wailing deep in my heart I let this sorrow seep in to sink,
Xenophobic I ain't but of course I dislike enemies of love,
Yucky thoughts of people assassinated my love last night,
Zeroed in on the catalyst -strange enough- she herself is it.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
There was once a drought that thundered through the land
It stormed from north to south sparing neither head nor hand
It came on the heels of may, to rob fields of their right
Giving hunger to day then taking respite from night
Sun came and moon thereafter, time and time again
Yet the skies yielded no answer to the outcry of men
‘Cause fortune did reject the farmer’s desperate plea
For sin of thankless neglect towards soil of sower’s glee
Clouds massed in mocking grey, winds whispered hopeful lies
Telling of a better day when we would hear the heavens’ cries
Such was the willful drought that ended harvest’s reign
Starving land of fruitful sprout till Mercy brought the rain
I should say no more of the gloom through days of old
But with words long withheld, tell of that which should be told.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
A kiss, short but full of passion.
You've got a tempestuous past,
fulfilling all your desires.
What about your future?
Will it be with the one you love?
Or still driven by your sensual appetite?
How will your satisfy your hunger?
A sparing array of snacks?
Or a nightly feast of ambrosia?
A god is giving you a chance now,
to see if you are worthy.
Will you take it?
Be embraced by the light?
Or continue down the path of darkness?
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 7:55 PM UTC
__|small gee for god; big bee for byron|__
Strikes a chord with you, does it?
This shambling poverty of thought,
Insta-rated and underwhelming;
Thank god for Byron.
__|keats versus shelley|__
Sparing no injury to his phthisicky frame,
Keats lies atop a make-believe of cherry trees
Searching among the clouds
For wealth, health and a Grecian urn,
While Shelley does Venice
And blows himself a hookah.
__|o poesy! for thee I grasp my pen|__
Panning the wayward sky for inspiration,
A hope, a word, a beginning;
A versification so ecstatic as to transfix the senses and pierce the heart,
A lightning phrase capable of uprooting all commonality,
As outrageous a miracle in the minds of men as crucified immortality.
__|requiem|__
Unlike the wilting rose which has no higher calling
Than to bloom and die upon the stem,
And having relinquished its last perfumed petal
Retreat from memory again,
I fear that I shall linger,
Tethered to this eternal moment
By shudd’ring will and breath combined,
A brighter shade of myself than what of me I have left behind.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
“If you spend your life sparing people’s feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can’t distinguish what should be respected in them.”
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
onslaughts of parasitic butterflies devour her liver each eve
sparing just enough to grow back the next day
her night clothes are torn under razor beaks
then mended each morning by the nimble-fingered Narcissi
who do not lament her predicament,
but sing mellow little tunes in C minor,
a statement: there is no latent compassion for Pandora
nor for her descendants in Greece or in Rome.
Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 3:49 PM UTC
Through His mercy we have survived.
Wrath sparing
Temple and parthenon,
Synagogue covered
In moss,
Castles ****** but unbowed
For us to
Remember.
Allowed us to keep
Corners of
Eden:
A bedroom wall slathered
In picture frames,
A front porch dusted with snow—
Fragments
We tore away with
Tears clouding our eyes.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
The parched earth echoed the wails for the dead
as flames devoured the crowd of corpses
mouth agape with unquenched thirst.
The sky had mercilessly looked away
having spit fire on them down below
sparing not one waterhole on its way
and the mother if only she could
use her tears for the baby to drink
but her eyes had turned dry as the earth.
Yet dark as the depth of love
the King's pond mirrored the princess' face
and would still beam the moon in her eyes
strangely hiding from the wrath of the drought.
One night sleeping on her ivory bed
her silken skin cooled with rosewater
the princess heard a voice:
*When the fury of God
blinds him to the pains of men
an angel rises to break his heart
stakes her life to rend heaven apart
so his tears on earth fall as rain.*
The windless night was deadly quiet
watched by moon in awe wide eyed
the trees sparkled in firefly's light
when the princess stood by the pond's side.
For awhile her eyes roamed around
resting on the marble's gleam
the sleeping grass her sweet playground
a home smelling all earthly dream.
She felt like swimming through the air
love glowing warm in her peaceful eyes
till she reached the end of stairs
that bore her frame with deep sighs.
The heaven broke down with thunderous rain
the seeds sprouted filled field with green
upon that land wasn't a drought again
never before had such harvest been seen.
In the depth of night if you hear a cry
from the clouds pearly by dawn's embrace
know God's tears will fall from the sky
as dewdrops mourning the rain princess.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
I didn't go searching for them, I fell into your lovely lips
I want to drink up your beauty, in ten thousand tiny sips
I need to taste the thrilled confusion of a fleet of sinking ships
I do what I must to steal what I can of it, your beauty's not for sale.
I double over with the pleasure of it. This neverending bliss cannot fail.
I never had a chance after that first serendipitous kiss, you blessed me with.
You always make magnets of my eyes, and graceful dancers of my fingertips.
You are all I need to survive, I could thrive in any climate, nothing else matters, except
You there, beside me, your beauty always with me,
sparing sweet sips from your serendipitous lips.
This is the only thing that can quench my thirst.
Loveliness like yours, only comes along once in a long while.
To me you are the closest thing, to perfection I know.
Then again...what do I know?
A Burns, 2012
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
Look onward out towards the crashing waves of the sea.
It's there I dare to compare the rock holding form upon the crystal reef.
Compare to whom for there is no capable being upon this Earth holds claim to equal such
I know only one strong enough to withstand those violently crashing waves , my hero , my daddy, his back totes the weight of the world every day , this rock standing firm in the heart of the crystal reef, holds little force to compare
Journey with me for your eyes won't believe
Young but recalling the blizzard one winter my hero, my daddy that returned from the mountain
Eyes of sky blue shining through crystals of icicle hanging from his lashes, his face purple from the wicked freeze of sleet.
I peered with pain while my mother laid warmth over my hero's frozen face, it was the rock in the reef that cold winter's day far across the fierce mountain snow he tracked to provide a meal a for his family
A wife and four girls , a back that had been broken not one but three times , I couldn't hold the tears in my eyes as my bus passed him walking as it drove me to school there was no money for a vehicle, my hero, my daddy, five miles to and five miles home, every single day for over six months and never missed a day , walked with his ******* back to provide for us
His hands were covered with hard labor of his life as the mines collapsed sparing his life as it ripped his finger away
His job led him underground just miles from hell for to long
Turning his lungs to it's likeness of the coal
Three days went by what seemed forever as the rubble they lifted from that mine was like holding a gun to the head of the men trapped in below
For the chance of that bullet one wrong move would send the mine and it's beings far beneath the earth to never be found.
We glared at the pile of rubble they said time was running out
Wait what does that mean as the families begin to weep
When all of the sudden the minor let out the words that sounded angelic to my ears, Men I see a light shining in the hole and it's coming towards me.
I could see as what looked in the form of a man but was covered with black from the coal the light from his hard hat turning side and up and down as he had one man on his shoulder he lifted him out and disappeared to retrieve the other men still down in that deep dark hole. One by one my hero my daddy brought them to their safety , this my friend is the rock from the reef that can withstand the crashing waves, the man that tracked through a freezing blizzard to make sure his family ate, and the man that returned the husband's home safe to their family's from the depths of hell that day Always and forever this man will be , My Hero , My Daddy!
©kimmied1105
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC