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DuBray Dec 2018
Here I sit

Alone

One waitress

Crying to a Queen song

She serves me coffee

I drink then leave

And on my napkin a coffee stain

What is me?
Amanda Jean Oct 2016
JB was on my mind
Too many times
Everything he ever talked about
Became my walk my talk
My singing and shouts

I knew from the start that it would have an end.
I can't ever seem to get used to these new beginnings.

I fell into manipulation
I'm recovering
Trying and recycling...
Recovering

My old and new beliefs
The old and new me
Trying to become
What I've always
Been
Seeker of light
Prayer of health
Child of God
Teacher
People pleaser

_


He she won't be ANY GOD TO ME
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING ANYMORE
HELP ME
LORD HELP ME
LORD HELP ME
Father Father help me
Val Graz Apr 19
I hate me, I hate everything about me,
The things you can see, and especially those you can't see,
I hate living, getting up every day,
Make money, they say, gotta get paid,
But I can barely stand up in my own skin,
How do I help others, when I can't begin,
I'm stuck like cement in my own body,
And I wanna **** it sometimes, don't tell Mommy,
She's still traumatized,
From all the other times,
I downed a bottle of pills,
Hoping I'd get out of this place,

So someone help me, help me live,
Because it can't always be like like this,
I'm drowning in my own self-loathing,
It's like a permanent set of clothing,
I can't get away from me,
So someone, help me, help me,

I've been reaching for a hand to pull me out for so long,
I'll just keep it hanging here, until I've had enough,
Lonely as the last of their own species,
No one else like me, I guarantee this freely,
Haunted by my childhood, and the demon that possess it,
Caught up in my own head, and all of it's dumb ****,
I can't see two steps ahead, sometimes I can't even see one,
God whoever made me, I hope they were having fun,
To make my pathetic existence worth something at least,
Even if just a stain on some old *** sheets,

So someone help me, help me live,
Because it can't always be like like this,
I'm drowning in my own self-loathing,
It's like a permanent set of clothing,
I can't get away from me,
So someone, help me, help me.
Carter Ginter Nov 2013
Does it make me a murderer.
if I know he's going to see decease?
I've tried and tried but
one can only fight so long for peace.
Before all the battles and repressed memories
run themselves out of space.
And when everything in life fades away
because stress forces all your day's thoughts to erase.
He begged me to tell him to leave
something I would never say.
But is not doing what he asked
just the same anyways?
He told me I could save him
because he can't live without me.
No bother reminding him that I'm here
I know too well what he really means.
I knew exactly what he wanted
what he said could be an assist.
But I couldn't do that to her
no matter how he would persist.
jules Oct 2018
why do tears leave all the stains
and smudge the ink i used?
why must you always rearrange
the tattered and abused?
yes, some things are too torn to fix,
but here i pray and wish and wish—
oh, these everlasting blues
i broke three promises made to you:
one, to always feel with heart,
two, to yearn when we're apart,
three, never admit wrong from the start—
my mind the stars and world the chart
oh, it's torture, everlasting blues,
why do i do what i do?
.
said i wasnt going to write about sadness again, im not sad, it's just i have a whole pile of poems left from when i was
I finally
Asked myself
If it was
Worth
The pain?

Just to sit
Next to you,
And gazing
Into your
Eyes.

When all
I could see
Is nothing
But glass
Stain eyes.

As my own
Mistakes
Are staring
Right back
At me.
Diction Oct 2018
You can call this nothing but childish poetry if you want/

Because I say this with complete honesty/

Your opinions mean nothing to me/

Looking for the reason behind the why I find in every line of mine/

Without any doubt this empty is me when I'm in my honesty/

There is no lie for you to see when it's all the same thing as what's hidden inside this poetry/

I will say so what if you don't understand these words I write/

I don't care if you can read this pens bite/

Still as oil are these words the paper snow covered drifts white/

The reason my sanity has yet to flee/

Even though everyday I'm looking at this knife as if to find this mercy/

As I'm constantly bordering conformity of this eventual reality/

Lost in my own insanity/

As I'm individually ment to be mentally segregated/

To keep steadily the steady loss of a sane mentality/

As I kept barely shackled separately separate from my misery these memories/

When I deserve every memory intentionally given to me personally/

Specially those made to cause me pain inside intentionally attacking my happiness/

So I'll be honest/

To those the ones who sent them so they can dry the rain with a wipe to clear their eyes/

I apologise/

I'm like Dr.Jekyll holding on desperately to hide the Mr.Hide hidden inside/

With memories of the psychologically unsteady/

Symmetrically simplistic in this coloured poetry thats making up my reality/

Losing myself in some fantasy/

A chemical chemistry of evolutionary perplexities/

Changing the mentalities of the socially closed personalities/

The ones who are misunderstanding me and what's behind this poetry/

When there's so much more then this man and the fact he's lonely/

These poems being what I feel each night/

Why I'm able to continue to write/

Making these words rhyme to fight off these thoughts of some suicide/

Making up poems line after line/

The only thing that makes me feel fine/

It's what keeps me from completely losing my mind during these moments anxiety sneaks up from behind/

So I'm suddenly overwhelmed  emotionally/

It's as if your falling apart and there's no one there that cares/

No one to make it stop but plenty in the part that's pressed to start/

Most days there's nobody to listen when your not sure if your life is worth living/

Sometimes the pain is so deep your needing something to numb every bit of what your feeling/

Now posted on this line paper that's been red dyed/


Maybe the hurt this time someone will see and finally take my words to heart/

Why the ink cord around my throat is still wet/

An the rest of it's spent on this borrowed piece of parchment/

A page from this mental thought process that's afflicted by the emotionally hopeless/

Constantly dancing with manikins of a manic drug addict/

With cut wrist to remind him that weak thoughts need to become nothing but static/

Keeping my mind distracted/

What secrets are you keeping in the attic/

I'm escaping into a straight jacket fearing my own love as the tragic/

When I've finally had it/

My heart I'll bury deep be it lock set with the sunset/

Secret is, the artist is ment to escape within the ink stain that's set/

This is that moment for me be it I'm now word spent so I went while the paint was still wet/
A song was playing
In my head
When they came and
Took me away
It beats upon my bones
'Till this very day
But
I refuse to believe
I’m bad
No matter
What most people says

The prosecutor pointed
Till the end of days
The judge slammed
His gavel
And put my *** away
It never was completely over
As if the debt was never paid
Now I wear society’s
Mark of sinner Cain
.....
TT

My pets ****, not me!
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
All feedback is welcome
So this was posted here a couple weeks ago and, when I went to revise it, it was drafted and came out as new, I guess? :)
Sasha Raven Apr 5
Have you ever heard, about the castle — Stain?
It is standing in so beautiful land, called Oberkrain ...
When I go there, my eyes have no time to rest,
that is the place of "mine" and I feel the best!
In the Spring, I listen to the birds, how they sing
and so far in the distance, the church bells ring ...
When I was young and foolish, it was like my home,
it sounds silly, I felt like a Ruler of the mighty Rome ...
I am so much older now and the times are hard,
but, they do not respect you, there is no regard!?
In my heart, all these memories will still remain
and, I will always know the laughter and the pain ...
‘Stain upon the silence’, Samual Beckett said.
Have we all done this?
Thomas Hardy’s  poem
‘The Darkling thrush’.

Have I left my stain
Can you hear my call
‘In my poem ‘Even the Birds’?

Did I make it through
All those words and rhymes
To find something worth the saying?

Love Mary **’
nja Feb 12
She wanted to remain pure,
unstained,
unpoked.
She had toyed with getting a tattoo
but realised it wasn’t
individual anymore.
But she was in need of validation.
Was she past her peak? She’s still cool right?

The needle stuck into her skin like the scent of an old lover. It left a fizzy sensation behind.
The ink spread.
She kept poking,
stabbing,
stick n poking.

What emerged was a star.

Startled,
strained by Tar,
scarred,
her sparkle faded.
My experience of doing a stick n poke tattoo of a star on myself. My thoughts on my first tattoo. I called my star tattoo Tar.
Kevin J Taylor May 2016
With trappings of chattel and ownership and slavery
Stain and scarification, of torture and tally
Edification and vainglory of succumb: metal ring, chain & ink—
Inventory:  Declaration of alienable rights: Inexistence

Where are the Free
The Free-to-Live-and-Die-and-Live-Again-at-Will
Where are the Truly Free
For I would dance among them
..
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
corpser May 2018
The night air is humid and there are thunderclouds looming in the horizon. The skies are neatly stained with a *** stain looking stain of clouds, scattered in the yellow moon of 7pm.

I walked past a wake tonight, then a funeral then the graveyard. Im walking out to buy some cigarettes, menthol for my mother and reds for myself.

The night is a ticking time bomb rigged to blow. Like the pulsing ache in my head or the medicine in my mouth waiting to be crushed between my teeth.
Instruction says I should **** on it as long as I can. Says its supposed to relieve the pain.

I fight back the urge to bite. I fight back the urge to do a lot of things.

The ticking timebomb
Does not explode.
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2016
From depths of woe I raise to Thee
The voice of lamentation;
Lord, turn a gracious ear to me
And hear my supplication;
If Thou iniquities dost mark,
Our secret sins and misdeeds dark,
O who shall stand before Thee?

To wash away the crimson stain,
Grace, grace alone availeth;
Our works, alas! are all in vain;
In much the best life faileth:
No man can glory in Thy sight,
All must alike confess Thy might,
And live alone by mercy.

Therefore my trust is in the Lord,
And not in mine own merit;
On Him my soul shall rest, His Word
Upholds my fainting spirit:
His promised mercy is my fort,
My comfort, and my sweet support;
I wait for it with patience.

What though I wait the livelong night,
And till the dawn appeareth,
My heart still trusteth in His might;
It doubteth not nor feareth:
Do thus, O ye of Israel’s seed,
Ye of the Spirit born indeed;
And wait till God appeareth.

Though great our sins and sore our woes,
His grace much more aboundeth;
His helping love no limit knows,
Our utmost need it soundeth.
Our Shepherd good and true is He,
Who will at last His Israel free.
From all their sin and sorrow.

                           ~ Martin Luther (1483-1546)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aVWBSmghAs
Poetoftheway Apr 16
coffee stain memories (an aging love)

our dozen or so mugs,
all white, her color of choice,
accumulating stains of black-brown coffee
that the dishwasher poetically concedes,
a decade plus of drinking, now, oh-now,
****** and can’t be removed

the lips of some are chipped,
the lips of some are chapped,
but they remain employed
for first coffee is a demonstrable
affectation of affection that losing
would be costly

but one of us soto voce, quietly whispers
the radical ionized idea,
shouldn’t we replace,
this should-not is an update, a cognition of
a bridge too far,
both agreeing, both conceding the symbolism,
the heart acknowledges a momentary thrombosis,
for the losing turnover is a winless loss

messaging in and about,
an aging staining love losing

~
A no ki tov tuesday poem
11:36 tuesday ki tov 16/4/2000+nineteen

http://hebrewmeanings.blogspot.com/2016/04/ki-tov.html

“The third day of Creation [Bereshis 1:9-13] is the only day in which the expression “G-d saw that it was good” is mentioned twice. This expression is mentioned both following the gathering of the waters which divided the seas from the dry land, and following the sprouting of vegetation and seed- bearing plants – both of which occurred on the third day of Creation.
As a result of the fact that Tuesday had a double portion of “ki tov” [that it was good], Tuesday is considered a particularly fortuitous day of the week. Many people specifically plan their wedding for this day. When moving into a new house, many people plan to move on Tuesday. Many people try to start a new job on Tuesday.”
Cné Dec 2017
she dragged me out of the house
knowing i was feeling down
not allowing me to wallow
in my self pity,

she dressed me,
        painted my face
               fashioned my hair,
that’s my girl friend

at Juliana’s,
small family owned Italian restaurant,
a gem of a find, she said,
Lorenzo, greeted her with familiarity
(she leaves a memorable impression)

she introduced me as her bestie
with a twinkle in her eye
young (as all under 30 people are to me)
handsome, dark thick curly haired,
with dancing eyes,
a serving towel over his left arm
nodded with a genuine smile

i smiled back despite my mood

wine was swirled, smelled,
sampled and selected
a captivating performance,
executed expertly

she watched me
watching him
describe the specials  
with a melodic Italian accent
transforming my mood

garlic knots wafting with his stride,
placed on the table
with a small bowl of marinara sauce
still hovering
in his long lean fingers
it slipped,
splattering red stain
on the pristine white cloth

without skipping a beat
his eyes poured into mine
words emerged
forgive me, your beauty made me nervous
True story,
and yes I left a fat tip!
Best line ever
English Jam Oct 2018
Silver skies, tranquil nights
Gently gazing down from afar
Silver rooftops, twinkling lights
Buried deep among the stars
Silver memories paint silver portraits
Hung from my interior walls
Silver melodies, not unfortunate
I hear, my name, it calls
Silver teardrops stain my cheeks
Making melancholy of innocence
Silver snowstorms, heartache's peak
An evocative and celibate synthesis
Silver dreams, silver eyes
Meet silver nights, tranquil skies
Desmond the poet Aug 2018
It’s a good day the lord granted.
Everything seems so perfect.
Weather is sweet.
Sun’s shining.
What could go wrong?

…….Until…..

I felt you coming.
Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror.
How I wish for a false alarm.
Dear lord may this cup pass.
A moment to accept the inevitable arrived.

Oh my God! you seized me once again.
You came like a thief at midnight.
You hijacked my mind.
You exposed me to wrath of migraines.
Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day.
It's like a small stain on a white garment.

The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
This an expression of how a 30seconds encounter with with an epileptic seizure can ruined the whole 24hour day.
Matthew Jan 20
You watch as the blood from my wrist trickles onto your carpet.
Paying no mind until it starts to stain
I whisper,
"I'm sorry; please help me"
You roll your eyes and usher me out
of your comforting, inviting home
into the cold, desolate outside.
Crimson tears form in my eyes
raising my voice,
"I need your help!"
Instead, you give me an ignorant smile
before you slam the door.
An incomprehensible scream for acknowledgement exits my body
Peering through the window,
I see you cover my bloodstain with a rug.
You would rather act as if it never existed
than try to stop the blood or simply clean the stain.
I'm now outside;
being left to rot in the earth
So instead I will stain your flower bed.
Here's the meaning I got from my poem.  From personal experience, people to like to act like there's a problem with your depression or suicidal tendencies until it bleeds into their lives.  Then, they act still barely acknowledge the problem and try to erase from their lives.  They don't try to help us when we need it more than ever.  It's about what we really need.  We need someone to acknowledge that we have a problem and make strides to help that problem instead of acting as if nothing happened. The poem is saying that it's better for people to help those in pain than to be ignorant.  If you don't, then it just ends up causing the stain to get bigger and more public.
ren Jan 2014
I am irrelevant. 
I am nothing but a vessel.
I am a lantern to carry Light,
And a candlestick has never pled
"Someone please love me".

I am irrelevant.
I am assured in hope.
I am a stain glass window;
My purpose is to color in His plan
With the humble crayons 
I've been given.

I am irrelevant. 
I am here to serve.
I am here to wipe the dripping tears
Of crying candle wax
And light the oil in others.

I am irrelevant. 
And the only relevance is His light.
-ren
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
     "U-Turn"
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
             "Rose"
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ****** salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
pancakes
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Carats
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
Samuel Nov 2018
Why am I always in pain?
I leave a stain on the world I'm in
A stain of red so bright and bold
It might just block out this heart of gold

When did I become so broken?
So numb and insecure
I guess when my soul was shattered
By one I thought I could trust the most

How was I supposed to know
You were so cruel and mean
What was I to do
But find someone to be

Someone who thought they couldn't be
At par with all the rest
Someone whose life meant nothing more
Than one simple passed test

Someone who could love the broken
The bruised and insecure
But one who could not be loved
By those he holds so dear

So take this gift I give
A thought in a small story
I feel that's more than you deserve
For making me so gory

And for my battered broken heart
Still pumping flakes of gold
Remember all the good in people
Don't stop until you're old

So old you can not even talk
So old you can not think
And even then please don't forget
This worlds' pure heart of gold
Ava Oct 2018
pull me apart
and throw me together
break my bones
and tell me it's better

cause anything hurts
less than the pain
of when you pretended
I was more than just
an **** stain
D Awanis Oct 2016
I couldn’t help myself but longing for your existence
It felt strange to have my body wrapped and my back rubbed by someone that is not you
It felt unfamiliar not to hear you talk about the weather and the sky after you question my day
It felt odd to feel the stain of coffee left on his lips—because it ain’t the one you used to sip

I couldn’t help myself but wonder about the probability of us
Tell me that being stucked in traffic jam doesn’t make you wish you were spending it with me
Tell me that your feet don’t dance to Ella Fitzgerald and suddenly missing the tip of my toes on top of them
Tell me that when you look at her face, you don’t search even an ounce of my warmth there

I couldn't help myself but pleading for your mercy
Forgive me that I almost forget the way your laughter sounds or the way you sigh when you feel hopeless;
or the transition in your voice when you get mad but choose not to show it
or how your fingers fit the spaces between mine perfectly—and God, do I miss them
CK Baker Apr 2017
i had a dream
i was flying
in the arms
of this grande old kite
and we drifted through canyons
and across flowered fields
over endless pastures
and restless seas

i looked down
somewhere near
the haldimand half-point
and saw friends
and patrons
smiling
while the busy keepers
of oasis
were singing
and loosening their vowels

familiar faces
were everywhere
and it was warm
and serene
they were charting courses
and building dreams
laying praise
untarnished by imposing views
and as much as i tried
i couldn’t express my gratitude

when i woke
i was lying
with an angel
at my back
whose eyes
were wide
and blue
and her words came crystal clear;
kindness will not be sold

and as i turned
to reach her hand
the rain had gathered
and washed away
a stain
For Jack and May
Caro Jun 2016
On the tip of my tongue you burned like hot coffee,
With a hit of my blunt you’ve undone my lofty,
made me a softy,
I wont forget.

Denim jacket leaning down, you’ve got room in your throat,
You’ve got words in your coat,
Pockets full of notes.

Ink on your arms that wrap, wrap around me,
Words pushing on your teeth like braces,
Laces,
Up your shoes that walk all around me,
I won't forget.

Maybe whisper it now or tell me tomorrow.

Denim jacket leaning down, tippy toes to kiss your nose.
You’ve made me a softy,
I won’t forget.

Sweet and simply say it from behind those curtains,
Smoke in your nose from my fire lungs,
Stain my breath with your words,
Blessed syllables,
I won’t forget.
Ray Dunn Apr 3
You stain my skin
like the indents on my wrist.
The hair-ties from my weary day,
unused and painful.

Luckily, I employ you.
The indents fade and the angry
red marks vanish,
while my vision clears with it.

The crack of my wrist,
hyperextended like my patience,
I bring back feeling to my fingers.
Time to get to work.
Literally meaningless **** I’m so bored
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