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Melina Rodriguez Dec 2013
stressing over a homework assignment that has absolutely no meaning and is complete *******
stressing over a guy who stares at me for the whole lunch hour but wont dare to say hello because of whatever reason and i dont know whether to make the initiave or not
stressing over wanting to rebel and scream at the top of my lungs and run away to a place that wont make me oh so satisfied
stressing over family on how obnoxious they can be but still being patient because i love them
stresssing over trying to make him notice me
stressing over wanting to "fit in" to some sort of crowd that doesnt exist
stressing over not knowing what i want to do for the rest of my life
stressing over not knowing whether id find that person to complete me

My normal afternoon and i was doing what i did best, Stressing!

Stressing about if this child would make it, stressing if he would deny being the father, stressing about how daddy would take this, stressing about  why am i stressing , stressing about things i thought were impossible and i guess that kind of energy is what made me loose you.

I decided to try get my mind off the stressing and do something productive, like reading a book. The MAGIC page 3 was the introduction. I couldnt even understand what the hell the auther spoke about because my head was stuck on the stressing.

My mind was busy replaying you saying that you don't know what we are going to about the child. I couldn't stop fearing you running or denying this pregnancy and yes how much suicide crossed my mind a few times, i figured if we were both dead, id save you a lot of trouble since you "didnt know" what do.

****! How i feel stupid right now for thinking about such.

Suddenly i started feeling hot, the temperature was just irritating my skin. I thought maybe i am just being dramatic, because I didnt want to draw attention to myself and end up explain to my parents that i am pregnant i decided to take quick nap. Laying on the peacefully greatful the temprature dropped, i suddenly felt as if i was being stabbed several times on my tummy.

Crawling to my jacket, trying my best not to cause any scene, i sent you a text, luckily you responded. As i stood up i saw blood coming out, i rushed out to meet up with you and tears just started falling. The confusion,the pain and all i could think about was "God please don't let this baby die".

You held me and told me everything will be alright.

When i arrived home, i had to confess, tell the truth in order to save this child. He dad was torn however he rushed me to the hospital.

It was too late....

I died for a second, ran out of breath, my entire world shut down and i thought maybe if i wasn't so negative about him he would've survived, until this present day, i can't help but wonder what would you look like.
Maybe if we fought less and accepted you, things could've been better.
Frank Ruland Oct 2014
your best friend
to OD
on ****
I don't know what the hell to do right now.
Sora Oct 2013
I'm stressing
Present slipping downhill
Future not good enough
Past drags me down

No motivation to start working upwards
No idea where the tunnel leads to
No strength to let go of the old days

I'm stressing
Fresh Prince Mar 2014
I'm stressing over love and letting darkness build up inside me,
I wonder if I'm at a state of mind where getting love is strange,
I hear words from Lucifer saying that I'm just a disgusting man,
I see horrendous deeds being done that I need to change,
I want to ask for forgiveness, a clean slate, even though it has been given,
I'm stressing over love and letting darkness build up inside me.

I pretend to know I'm loved from the Son of Man,
I feel like I am in a fake cell being held by some fake police,
I touch things with a loving hand, but in my mind I feel like they turn to sand,
I cry when I show all this pain, when it's just weakness leaving the body,
I'm stressing over love and letting darkness build up inside me.

I understand agape love and what God has for me,
I say "God where are you? I'm lost! Blind me so that I can see!"
I dream I can reach up and grab! The hem of his guarment or at least I can touch his hand,
I try to play this picture perfect person when I am just a disgusting man,
I hope that I find the forgiveness and love from the lamb that has risen,
I'm stressing over love and letting darkness build up inside me.
Lets take the day off and chill out, not stressing soaking up the lords blessings, let's go out tonight enjoy a nice meal unwrap ourselves expose our fun side peel the layers off, relax by a waterfront getting high off the emotions of us, watch fireworks toast a glass of strawberry and cream champagne to celebrate nothing bothering us

Just a night off lets communicate with our bodys flirting with the slightest touch temptation not asking for much, the night is still young so juvnille, let's make it worthwhile no dollar amount a value deal of us just enjoying us do wild stuff like we don't now how to behave ourselves, radiate is our smile viberations of our laughter makes the valley's of our heart shake, sweet lovers a savory taste

  Take the time to enjoy us we been working so much not taking breaks convicted to the grind like tired slaves, not tonight it's date night we haven't had this feeling for a while now, let's takeoff day cater to each other feed both of us grapes do you want to split a cheesesteak?, nothing much just you and us it's date night take the load off
Ember Evanescent Nov 2014
Yeah I totally love being single!
You can do what you want whenever you want without obligations or having to think about anyone else you can flirt shamelessly with as many guys as you like, there is no pressure to look good for anyone I love that I have all this me time where I can spend a Saturday night reading and listening to the music I like without trying to decode mixed signals in text messages
I never have to depend on anyone but myself.
No one is stressing me out by depending on me.
I can sit by myself on the couch home alone when everyone else is out
And feel completely isolated, unloved and unlovable
I can feel so ugly and obsess over it
I can scroll through pictures of pretty celebrities and models and girls I know online bitterly wishing I looked like them and could be like them so that maybe someone would notice me and give me a chance
I can scream at the radio for playing stupid love songs
I can eat ice cream and chocolate wondering why I am such a waste of space
Thinking of all the guys who have rejected me and dropped me over the years
Have no one to love
Or who loves me
No guy I can trust with my secrets and loyalty
No one who needs me
No one to want
Or make me feel wanted
To spend nights together
Just talking
And watching movies
Being cutesy and flirty with
Lie hand in hand with
No one I can gush about to my friends
No one I can bake for
No one I can buy stuff for, just 'cause
No one I can do random couples stuff with
No one in my life
It's pretty great.
I love being single.
There is nothing wrong with being single btw I dont mean to offend anyone I'm just saying that I PERSONALLY don't deal with it well. Good for all of you other single people out there who have found a way to love single life.
Repost if you also **** at dealing with being single though
Big Virge May 2016
Nowadays ... when I write ...
My Tension ... " Lessens " ...
which ... Helps me find ...
Some ... " Peace of Mind " ...

Enabling me ...
To Avoid ....

" Depression " .... !!!!!!

My writing style ...
Keeps On ... " Progressing " ...

Thus ... when I write ...
I do ... Less ... stressing ...

I'm now ... investing ...
So Much Time ... !!! ...

"Constructing" ... sentences ...
Built in .... rhyme ....
that time now seems ...
to .... pass me by ....

I don't know ... why ... ?
but ... now my life ...
Feels ... Less Complex ...
when I ... " Express " ... !!!
the thoughts that ... REST ...
inside .... My Mind ....

I've ... NEVER ...
been one ...
to enjoy ... a good cry ...

I'd rather try ...
to ... " Solidify " ...
My ... " Mental State " ...

So .... " Contemplate " .................................

and .... " Train My Brain " ....
to .... " Find A Way " ....
to .... " Ease My Pain " ....

That's ... Easy to Say ...
But .... " Not To Do !!! " ....

Especially when ....
You have .... " Dark Moods ! "

Moods ... that can lead ...
to .... " Self Abuse " .... !!! ....

"Intercepting" .... Progression ....

Well .....
That's .... NOT GOOD .... !!!!!

Simple inspection ...
of thoughts your collecting ...
can give you ... "Direction" ...
and ... Fuel ... Your Progression ...

WE ALL ...
NEED TO LEARN ... !!!!!

from life's ...
"Simple Lessons" ...
and make ... "Good Selections" ...
or face ... "Long Detentions" ...
once judges ... Pass Sentence ... !!!

AIDS ... keeps on progressing ...
because of ... " Infections " ...
So ... USE ... some protection ...
when getting .... ERECTIONS .... !!!!!!

and girls .....

" Take Your Time " ...

with ... EVERY ... New Guy ...
before yes ... " Progressing " ...
To Spreading ... " Those Thighs " ... !!!

"Progression' ... is nice ... !!!
when ... Temperatures' Rise ...
for ... " ****** Type Highs " ...

Especially when ....
Her Body ... is ... TIGHT ... !!!!!

When ... Everything's Right ... !!! ...
Drinks by ... " Candlelight " ...
or under ... " Moonlight " ... !!! ...
Way Up ... in the sky ...

is the kind of ... Progression ...
I just .... Cannot Fight ....
and that's a ... Confession ...
I'll ... ALWAYS ... stand by ... !!!!!

But .....
Only ... with women ...
with ... "Progressive Minds" ...

I Don't like felines ....
with ... Obsessive Minds ...
or those now .... Inclined ....
to sniff on .... " Cokelines " .... !!!!!

Relationships .... Lengthen ....
when both are ... Progressing ...
on .... " Similar Lines " ....

Opposites ... May Attract ... ?
but sometimes ... " Collapse " ... !!!
because of ... The Fact ...
that ... " Forward Progression " ...
comes easy when moving ...
in YES ... " One Direction " ... !!! ...

The point that i'm ...
.... STRESSING .... !!!

is ... have a ...
.... " Connection " .....
with who you're ....
.... " Selecting " ....

and this ...
You may find ... ?
Helps keep you ...
" Progressing " ...

Just like ... I now do ...
through words I now use ...
that help me .... " Defuse " ....
My .... " Aggressive Moods " ....

These days ...
I look forward ...
and ... try to ... " Progress " ...
because of the ... " Traumas " ...
that ... make me get ... MAD ... !!!!!!

But now ...
when I get ...
My Pen and Notepad ...
and ... start to express ...

It Helps me ... Progress ...
by ... THINKING ... much more ...
Therefore ... " Stressing " ...

....... much less .............

This form of ... " Progression "
Develops ... My Strength ...
and ... Helps me to ... DEAL ...
with ... " ignorant Heads " ... !!!

It's ... working for me ...
in this ... Society ...
of .... " Fallacies " ....

Built to place ... STRESS ... !!!
on our need to ... " Progress " ... ?

We're ... CLEARLY ...
..... " Regressing " .....
instead of ... " Progressing " ...

Life's ... providing
..... " Distress " ..... !!!
and ... " Stress-Filled Tests ! "

that ... cannot be ... Eased ...
by the ... Latest PC ...
or ... HD ... T.V.    
when so many live in ...

...... " Poverty " ...... !!!!!!!!!

What kind of progression ... ?
Creates ... So Much ...
..... " Stressing " ...... !?!
about .... Energy ....
and having .... Money .... !!!?!!!

Is this ... " Humanity " ... ?!?

or just a ... " Procession " ...
to ... Human Life ... ending ...
because of .... " Aggression " ....
and ... " Progressive Greed " ... !!!!!

So Many ... have questions ... ?
that they ... Want to ask ...
about our ... " Existence " ...

But .....
Where do we ... start ... !?!

When governments now ...
Refuse to ... back down ... !!!!!

Our leaders are ... " Messing " ... !!!
with most of ... "Gods' Blessings" ... !!!

We must ... !!!
Lessen Tensions  ... !!!!!

that sentence .... !!!!!

If we are to ... " Strengthen "
We Need ... " Less Aggression " ... !!!
and should ... Pay Attention ... !!! ...
to ... " Historys' Lessons " ...

Especially those ...
that have ... " Hindered " ...

.... " Progression " ....
The poem says it all .........
Mess-Me-Rised Mar 2015
Why wake up stressing?
When waking up is a blessing.
First thought in the morning.
Big Virge Mar 2018
Ya Know ....

I'm beginning to think ...
The Truth is ...

A LOT of Folks are ... STUPID ... !!!

You can tell by ....
The Way They're .... "Moving" ....

and who they choose to ...
..... "Move With" .....

It's CLEAR ...
Some NEED ... Improvements ...

Because they deal in ..... Looseness ....................................... !!!!!

Like ....
CLAIMING ... Their ... " Religion " ...

How they be ... Living ... ?

Here's what I mean ...

You ...
because it's ... UNCLEAN ... !!!!!

Is Your ... Religions' theme ...

BUT ..... !!!!

One Night're at home ...
and your hunger says ...

"Yo it's time for some food !"

So ...
Do you start to ... Cook ... ???

NO .... !!!
You go to the ... " Phonebook " ...
INSTEAD ... and have a look ...
for something you can ... " Order " ...

An Option ... CLEARLY shorter ... !!!
than cooking for ... yourself ...

So you then ... GET ...
.... " A FEVER " ....

to ....
Order Up ... Some Pizza ... !!!

Ya' hunger says ... " Oh well " ...

You order up ... " A VEGGIE " ...

I guess cos' ...
that is ... " Healthy " ... ?!?

ONLY ... To FIND ...
Later ............................ That Night ........

That something ... MEATY ...
was ... "inside" ... !!! ...

Because .... That Night ...
You spent the time ...
with the toilet ... by your side ... !!!!!!!

It now becomes ... CLEAR ...
STUPIDITY .... steered .....

Your *** ... to a place ...
where it had to ............................................................. DISPLACE ...... !!!!!!!!!!

WHATEVER ... You ate ...
from that .... " Takeaway " .... ?!?

Next day when you ... Check ...
The Pizza then said .... !!!!!!!! ......

"If you didn't want meat,
why did you eat me,
without double checking !
Why now are you stressing ?
You were stupid to believe,
that you'd really receive,
what we say we'll provide.
The sales what rules our vibe !
If you truly were, all that concerned
about SWINE being a part
of food you ingest, that makes you **** !
You'd of got off your ****, and cooked at home,
so that you'd of known, what it was you had,
and wouldn't of eaten, a piece of ham !"

You'd of marked your own card
and then ... Wouldn't try to ... BLAME ... ?!?
to .... "cover up" ... Your SHAME ... !!!

It seems ....
Your brain is ... lame ...
cos' STUPIDITY ... Holds it's ... "REINS" ... !!!

Your ANGER ... is a ... FARCE ... !!!!!

You people ... make me laugh ...

Actually .......
YOU DON'T ....... !!!!!!!
cos' STUPIDITY .... ROAMS .............................
RIGHT THROUGH .... Your Bones ... !!!!! ...

and into ... "Zones" ...
where it ... SHOULD NOT GO ... !!!!!

It seems that ...
ALL YOUR .... Bleating ....

Much like your ... Leanings ...

Your ... " Faith " ...
to be a ... SHAM ...
and Quite Stupid ... at that ... !!!

Just like wearing ... " Lions " ... ?!?
as if they are ... YOUR TRIDENT ... !?!
when NOT ONE Lion ... Roams ?
in the place that ... You call ... " Home " ... !!!

Isn't that something ...
You .... STOLE .... ?!?
from AFRICAN ... Time Zones ... !?!

Somebody's ....
CLEARLY ... LYING ... !!!!!

and DOESN'T ...
Come from ... ZION ... !!!

I Clearly Am ... STUPID ... !!!
to see THAT as .... FOOLISH ... !!!
and PROOF of ... POOR Schooling ...
that is ... Mind POLLUTING ... !!!!!!

Who'd they think they're ... " Fooling " ... ???

A ... GREAT MANY ... People ... !!!
Like those ... Under Steeples ... !!!

CONFESSING Their ... SINS ... !!!

because of ... BAD THINGS ...
That they have been ... Doing ....

It's Church ....
They are .... USING ....
to ... ACT as ... Their CLEANSER ...

These STUPID ... "pretenders" ... !!!!!

USING ... " Religion " ...
to give themselves ... " Visions " ...
of AGAIN .... Being PURE .... ?!!!?

That's STUPID ...
... Fa' SURE ... !!!!!!

A Leopard ....
DOES NOT ... Change his spots ... !!!

He's A LEOPARD ... Forever ... !!!!!

YES Humans ...
Can ... BETTER ...
Themselves ... YES IT's True ...

But ....
NOT in a morning ... !!!

That's STUPIDITY ... Calling ... !!!!!

Is it stupid to say .....
These things ... Nowadays ... ?!?

NOT IN ... My View ...
But MANY ... Would Choose ...

to say .....

" It is true,
cos expression moves,
and causes issues,
and if you're not careful,
may turn and bite you !"  

Man .....
Fear of ... " Your Truth " ...
Seems like ... FEARING ... You ... ?!!!?

Something ... I View ...
as a YES .... STUPID MOVE .... !!!!!

Stupidity ... REIGNS ...
When FEAR ... " Takes The Strain " ... !!!!!

That's now what's ..... IMPRINTED .....
and Runs Through ... My Veins ... !!!!!!!

I try to use ... THINKING ...
To Avoid ...

... STUPID TRAINS ... !!!

Cos' Thought ... OVERPOWERS ...
STUPIDITY's ... power ... !!!!!! ...

As does ... DISCIPLINE ... !!!

which is where ... I Begin ...

NO RELIGION ... within ... !!!

Just Faith in ... " Reflection " ...
and ... Thought FILLED ... Selections ... !!!
On Life ... and it's ... LESSONS ... !!!

to give me ... "PROTECTION" ...
Against the ... INFECTIONS ... !!!!!

STUPIDITY ... Spreads .................................................................­........
In ... UNDISCIPLINED .... Heads ....

It's CLEAR TO ME ... Now ...
That FOOLS Run ... Most Towns ... !!!!!

and My Thinking ...
That ... THOUGHT ...

In people ...
Runs ... FLUID ... !!!!!!

Gives me ... LIVING PROOF ...
That I'm being ........

..... " STUPID " .....
Stupidity is a SERIOUS Thing ....
Ben Balserak Sep 2014
Upward-curled, gleam of white
But as yet, something missing
“I swear, I’m quite alright!”
My wonder turns to stressing.
Is she really quite alright?

No-one wears their shoes,
Socks upon the carpet
Browning fog turning loose,
But purple mist diffuses.
Is she really quite alright?

My wonder turns to worried health,
I turn my focus to myself,
I pull a beer down from the shelf,
Indulging still our failing health,
She smiles, as if to say that she’s alright.

Trading sweat between our hands,
A greeting shared from man to man
We speak ambition, WE ARE PROUD
Our cigarettes, they make no sound.
They know that it will soon be their turn.

To be or not… I have forgot.
Our wasteland, wasted, seems alright
It skips my mind I’m all I’ve got
I’ve never put up much a fight
I hope I’ll quickly be all right.

But there are NO PROMISES
And no safe-houses.
smoke arouses surety,
But holds the door for vanity.
But as for me,
I highly doubt she's feeling free.

Charging, useless, up the hill,
The last endeavor of it's kind,
Cry peace, peace, but peace is killed,
Fulfill the end of southern mind.
There is no way that she's okay.

As men in grey
Lay on the ground
Bleeding with untempered sound
I cast my eyes about the house
I find her broken, fading lips
Pressed limp against assailant’s kiss

Those pearls that were
Her sentient eyes,
They cast upon me smiling sighs
She clings the arm of shifty eyes
And leaves the party, new inside.
And now I know she’s not alright.

But then again, nor am I.
References to T.S. Elliot's "The Wasteland", The Civil War, and Shakespeare's "The Tempest"
come at her like
Whats your name?
What you in to?
naw thats not ganna work
got to get those words that ganna get you
Thinkin Thinkin
hold you like the pedals i'll never bruise
Naw to deep thats way to soon
how can i do this
step up to the table like hello my name is Luis  
man im like ***** this
stressing to much thinking to far
gotta act quick before another dude raises the bar
I got it i got it i'll dance for her
naw got to think out the box
done thinkin ... i'll just wright a poem
Send her my thoughts.
End it with XOXO i like you a lot.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
so there on the window sill
i sat perpetrating my crime,
one had outside the window denoting the mentally ill
and the other inside the compartment of
a room denoting terrorists,
then i switched hands and opinions...
and then two bright objects of fire appeared
on the skyline... then another two... a perfect rhombus that
traversed the night sky.

i mingled *r.d. laing
with the saint benaiah ben yehoiada today...
what a miracle of the slow approach,
i was so desperate for paper i even wrote on a sunday times news review page,
god help me, i feel the need to speak over people in writing.
testament to modern *******: the modern trans-gender phenomenon
is primarily found in st. thomas’ gospel
as entrée of r.d. laing’s **** of paradise artistic spontaneity
away from rigid theory so numerous in the exampled situation
of the lisp acquired on the psychoanalytic couch...
it speaks of turning left to right... up to down... man to woman...
a bit like a sat nav giving directions... you end up in a kingdom
that’s a ditch and the king is adorned not in crimson cardinal
or purple bishop... but pain... this is 1967... no wonder the hippies
died off after people started to dot dot dot post-1967
with the excavatio in translatio to remould western, christian, societies.
that text, says it all! david bowie and alice cooper and marc bolan
with the lipstick and 8 o’clock eye-socket shadows...
but things are picking up / getting serious...
the young ones are on it... post-colonial details i might have you add...
it was bound to happen... vietnam and the daddy longlegs starving man of africa...
built in processor 5.6GB of memory and an iphone...
what?! i’m translating my slavic soul... we fed the mongrels and mongolians
with crusader ***** in the baltic... we disappeared for a few centuries
and came back... blackmailing the airlines for an unsafe crash landing
somewhere in belarus, with the state banquet officiated, of course.
you see.. i’m the silent eager satyr from such paintings by matejko
like hołd pruski and stańczyk... expression beaming with: yes... go on...
spur me on... i’ll gallop to status of stallion with laughter!
all the catholic canonical saints are for people who prefer images
to words.
so there’s laing in 1967 allowed the ancient deciphering of
quasi-egyptian text... and then all hell breaks loose in the now, present...
i’ve got two left hands and two right feet... i think i’ll transverse
in walking like a crab... sidewise... out of here...
you go along with your daily “historical” bullying...
i like my place... outside the post-colonial continuum...
so much so that i even have a theory for the experience:
this is how integration happens in europe: acquire the native tongue
acquire native psychology... don’t acquire the latter
define the former with exactness of body...
conclusion? i did stupid via trust... he did stupid via a blood-thirst
and a michael jackson trick of bleaching the soul
but leaving the body oddly mongrel-like... not so complete
like africans from the caribbean losing the tongue
due to jamaica’s great weather, then moving to england
and starting reggae rap... god knows how those two fitted for a size 12
perfect matching: quick-slow, quick-slow...
slow-quick rat ah rat ah regina duck in dumplings... bewildering
that i didn’t turn grey but turned ginger over the years.
you see this theory? it makes the mongol horse pale in comparison;
dad said: a jew did it! a jew did it! a ******* mid-******* just said: you
(double emphasis, the colon and italics... well i was there,
and this poem is proof that i was there, with her).
then this poem in the background with added photogenic approach...
titled: on ******* who create art.
ahem... napkin for the torero and rare steak to suite:
there they are the geniuses and the mediocre,
sitting in abodes of aspirational peace of the living -
half-dead many of them almost to the core of rotten apples,
with arsenic in apple seeds the last remaining life -
a poisonous mechanisation of activity on the breeding continuum
curtailed (is that implying cut-short?),
horrible ******* to live with,
they sitting knitting words together that make no cardigan fit,
or they’re making 2d rooms with the odd splash of colour
that will never obey the cube but the rectangular canvas,
no use of a poet’s pen in the solace of a quiet pension spaced,
the usurpers of peace among the living among the twins of sabbath,
these ronin of the fountain of solace found in t.v. and slippers...
who let them in?! can you hear poetry with a hammer?
can you hear it on a construction site, or an art gallery or a library?
so there they are, the *******, choosing the most importune of places
to do their craft... in the living spaces of plumbers and electricians...
hardly the place to craft their art when there’s no pulpit to
exercise their crafty practice with the end remark.
why then the plumber the safeguard and incubator nest of home,
and why the cold chill of aqueduct syringe at home for poet?
does no friendliness reside in stressing or not stressing certain words anymore?
perhaps the coalminers will tell me?
they say i am in a coal-mine by the sheer whiteness of disposable white
of canvas... and only among them in solidarity of a brotherhood
by excavating with them the coal that’s their amber burnt at home
and my solitary ink expressed in the library of their darkness of having
bulged forearm forceps of the bicep and no patience for reading... but digging,
i’ll know my orientation in those mines once more...
where the safe and understood route has has not yet been written...
and all that is seen... is the whitened darkness of the blank canvas of
what i peer into stumbling with the inverse... the flashlight of words
against the darkness of the canvas... me and my blind horse.
god i hate live editing... but then again... it keeps me
drunk and soberly paranoid to scrabble in revisions before i doze till morn.
i s a b e l l a Jun 2014
The past days have been
and agitated
and long;
a never ending day
that becomes dark later on,
yet too scared to meld
into night.
The sun has been up,
when the moon
will take her place.
But maybe it's just me,
too hectic to notice
that the time changed,
but I didn't.
Jojo Jan 2017
I fell in this hole again
I don't know who i am anymore
I feel the pain the sadness
I hope this doesn't get worst
My mind and feeling are ******
My friends aren't my friends
They lied , i trusted them
But they used med
I've been broken both dating way and
I've lost myself once again
I'm trying to find my way back
But it's hard
I'm stressing, over thinking
My depression  coming back , anxiety
I was truly happy for once but then
Out of nowhere it hit me
I felt alone,thoughts like  no one cared
I found this while I was going through my notes , so I decided to post it .-.
thelemonpolice Aug 2018
I'm waiting for the day I feel as alive
as I remember how I felt
when I realised
that behind everyone's eyes
is their own story and sadness
and family and happiness and goodness and badness
and we are connected and ******* in knots
entangled but some of them don't even touch

I'm waiting to feel that again, because ever since you last touched my skin
I can't see that little glint in my eyes
in the mirror that lets me know that
I'm getting by
and I'll be alright
because I'm here
and not dead and
I'm living again and
I'm swimming in thoughts
I can't kick past this tense
speed of current that's currently washing over me
stressing me
with unlikely
that I'll fail
and I'll crash
and ill end up just trash
on the bathroom floor
with nothing more left to slash

How can I think like this?
is there nothing left
of the ***** beating
inside of my chest?
Is it saddening me I'll spend most of my life
surrounded by people at the end of their lives?
Could be anyone
anyone at anytime
be a bus or a car
or a sip of wrong wine
could be her, could be him at the brink of the bridge,
could be family, friends
a mother with kids

I am waiting for me
to start thinking again
that each moment's a blessing,
not a thing to restrain,
not something I dread in the morning to wake to,
or something I try just to read too much into.

Get living!
I want to be living again.
If I've swallowed a nut, hand me my epipen,
If my throat closes up, insert adrenaline,
If I'm gasping for air, let me take it all in
I am but a skeleton,
A misprinted society element.**
I lived to the hum of my own melody,
A disapproved version of achieving ecstasy.
Those around me didn't like that very much,
Made me feel crazy, distant, and such.
Then, one day, I came to find,
I was one of few with such an open mind.
Pressured with conformity, I remained organic,
Such a rebellion filled them with panic.
So here I lie, a pile of bones
They ripped me to shreds, no trace with their ghost.
No one realized, for they were confined,
Stressing to stay structured, to keep their design.
But in the near future, they all will see,
The one they cold-heartedly killed is with whom they now agree.
I want to run, I want to hide
From all the pain he caused inside
I want to scream, I want to cry
Why can't I just tell him goodbye

I want to move on; I can't let go
I love him more than he'll ever know
Memories come, when I'm alone
Thinking about all the things that I've been told
I want to start over, I want to be free
But this pain and memories just won't leave me

"If I am stressing you out, then you should just forget about me,"
How could you think it's so easy?
He hurt me bad, the pain is deep;
From all the promises he couldn't keep
All the things I heard him say,
Are in my head and just won't fade

How can I forget him, leave him behind?
Erase the memories from my mind?
He doesn't love me, and he never will
He will never care about how I feel
Originally written and inspired on 24/8/17 by Chloe Keane Sapphire Lim
Edited on 22/11/17
©2017-2018 Poems_expressions_words_truth. All Rights Reserved.

Instagram: Poems_expressions_words_truth & clej__chl.oeelim
JayceeJellies Mar 2015
As you can see,
I've never been a prodigy.
Always unimpressive, apparently.
Stressing is an everday thing.
But you wouldn't care,
You're just so unaware.
Depression has me ensnared,
But you couldn't handle my despair.
So keep your eyes closed.
And I'll do the same.
The things I think about are completely insane,
I wish the good times would never change.
But this isn't my dreamland.
It's a place where I don't want to stand.
Depression is the ocean,
Anxiety is the sand,
And I'm somewhere floating in between it all.
Geno Cattouse Dec 2012
Running here running there
doing this doing that.
calling him calling her.
fixing this fixing that.

Im just tidying  up the window dressing .
Fixing the facade.

Going here going there
smiling nicely putting on spin
trying to win the face contest.

Just tidying up the window dressing.
The store is out of stock.
The Tax man is a vamp.
Printing money like stamps.
Busting up my camp.

Time is spinning faster. Playing out the string.
The treadmill tilts a  steeper angle.
Winners never quit and quitters never win.
Reaching for the next rung. Just like the one before.

Just tidying up the window dressing.
I got stamina to burn.

Tax man. Gas man.  Card man
Med. man. Food man. Clothes man
Mortgage man.Rent man. Car man.
Light man. Water man Boss man.

Tidying up the window dressing
Stressing hard about my stressing.
Too jammed up to count my blessing.
Tell the truth without confessing.

Politicians full of ****.
Slippery as quicksilver.
Who the hell they playing with.
Left or right I'm done with it.

Media. what media. Tell it to

Just pulling down the window dressing
Tired of playing Bo Peep. Big boy time.
Wakie Wakie.

The old shell game.
Never give a sucker an even break
Smarten up a chump said W.C
Fields. He was serious. I'm serious.
Who's serious about 1929.

Tearing down the window dressing
Dont believe the hype.
Nero fiddled while Rome burned. He was not mad
He had a plan?

Tearing up the window dressing.
Life is much too short for mucking
about with pit vipers bugged on ecstasy.
I'm serious.
Pug Rollins Sep 2014
Dust you came from
"Under all this stress?"
Stressing is what most people do
That is still where you came from.

And you will return to ash, too.
"So? I can just keep kicking."
Hell if you don't, and I encourage it.

I begin with two words that all men have uttered since the dawn of humanity: thank you. The word gratitude has equivalents in every language and in each tongue the range of meanings is abundant. In the Romance languages this breadth spans the spiritual and the physical, from the divine grace conceded to men to save them from error and death, to the ****** grace of the dancing girl or the feline leaping through the undergrowth. Grace means pardon, forgiveness, favour, benefice, inspiration; it is a form of address, a pleasing style of speaking or painting, a gesture expressing politeness, and, in short, an act that reveals spiritual goodness. Grace is gratuitous; it is a gift. The person who receives it, the favoured one, is grateful for it; if he is not base, he expresses gratitude. That is what I am doing at this very moment with these weightless words. I hope my emotion compensates their weightlessness. If each of my words were a drop of water, you would see through them and glimpse what I feel: gratitude, acknowledgement. And also an indefinable mixture of fear, respect and surprise at finding myself here before you, in this place which is the home of both Swedish learning and world literature.

Languages are vast realities that transcend those political and historical entities we call nations. The European languages we speak in the Americas illustrate this. The special position of our literatures when compared to those of England, Spain, Portugal and France depends precisely on this fundamental fact: they are literatures written in transplanted tongues. Languages are born and grow from the native soil, nourished by a common history. The European languages were rooted out from their native soil and their own tradition, and then planted in an unknown and unnamed world: they took root in the new lands and, as they grew within the societies of America, they were transformed. They are the same plant yet also a different plant. Our literatures did not passively accept the changing fortunes of the transplanted languages: they participated in the process and even accelerated it. They very soon ceased to be mere transatlantic reflections: at times they have been the negation of the literatures of Europe; more often, they have been a reply.

In spite of these oscillations the link has never been broken. My classics are those of my language and I consider myself to be a descendant of Lope and Quevedo, as any Spanish writer would ... yet I am not a Spaniard. I think that most writers of Spanish America, as well as those from the United States, Brazil and Canada, would say the same as regards the English, Portuguese and French traditions. To understand more clearly the special position of writers in the Americas, we should think of the dialogue maintained by Japanese, Chinese or Arabic writers with the different literatures of Europe. It is a dialogue that cuts across multiple languages and civilizations. Our dialogue, on the other hand, takes place within the same language. We are Europeans yet we are not Europeans. What are we then? It is difficult to define what we are, but our works speak for us.

In the field of literature, the great novelty of the present century has been the appearance of the American literatures. The first to appear was that of the English-speaking part and then, in the second half of the 20th Century, that of Latin America in its two great branches: Spanish America and Brazil. Although they are very different, these three literatures have one common feature: the conflict, which is more ideological than literary, between the cosmopolitan and nativist tendencies, between Europeanism and Americanism. What is the legacy of this dispute? The polemics have disappeared; what remain are the works. Apart from this general resemblance, the differences between the three literatures are multiple and profound. One of them belongs more to history than to literature: the development of Anglo-American literature coincides with the rise of the United States as a world power whereas the rise of our literature coincides with the political and social misfortunes and upheavals of our nations. This proves once more the limitations of social and historical determinism: the decline of empires and social disturbances sometimes coincide with moments of artistic and literary splendour. Li-Po and Tu Fu witnessed the fall of the Tang dynasty; Velázquez painted for Felipe IV; Seneca and Lucan were contemporaries and also victims of Nero. Other differences are of a literary nature and apply more to particular works than to the character of each literature. But can we say that literatures have a character? Do they possess a set of shared features that distinguish them from other literatures? I doubt it. A literature is not defined by some fanciful, intangible character; it is a society of unique works united by relations of opposition and affinity.

The first basic difference between Latin-American and Anglo-American literature lies in the diversity of their origins. Both begin as projections of Europe. The projection of an island in the case of North America; that of a peninsula in our case. Two regions that are geographically, historically and culturally eccentric. The origins of North America are in England and the Reformation; ours are in Spain, Portugal and the Counter-Reformation. For the case of Spanish America I should briefly mention what distinguishes Spain from other European countries, giving it a particularly original historical identity. Spain is no less eccentric than England but its eccentricity is of a different kind. The eccentricity of the English is insular and is characterized by isolation: an eccentricity that excludes. Hispanic eccentricity is peninsular and consists of the coexistence of different civilizations and different pasts: an inclusive eccentricity. In what would later be Catholic Spain, the Visigoths professed the heresy of Arianism, and we could also speak about the centuries of ******* by Arabic civilization, the influence of Jewish thought, the Reconquest, and other characteristic features.

Hispanic eccentricity is reproduced and multiplied in America, especially in those countries such as Mexico and Peru, where ancient and splendid civilizations had existed. In Mexico, the Spaniards encountered history as well as geography. That history is still alive: it is a present rather than a past. The temples and gods of pre-Columbian Mexico are a pile of ruins, but the spirit that breathed life into that world has not disappeared; it speaks to us in the hermetic language of myth, legend, forms of social coexistence, popular art, customs. Being a Mexican writer means listening to the voice of that present, that presence. Listening to it, speaking with it, deciphering it: expressing it ... After this brief digression we may be able to perceive the peculiar relation that simultaneously binds us to and separates us from the European tradition.

This consciousness of being separate is a constant feature of our spiritual history. Separation is sometimes experienced as a wound that marks an internal division, an anguished awareness that invites self-examination; at other times it appears as a challenge, a spur that incites us to action, to go forth and encounter others and the outside world. It is true that the feeling of separation is universal and not peculiar to Spanish Americans. It is born at the very moment of our birth: as we are wrenched from the Whole we fall into an alien land. This experience becomes a wound that never heals. It is the unfathomable depth of every man; all our ventures and exploits, all our acts and dreams, are bridges designed to overcome the separation and reunite us with the world and our fellow-beings. Each man's life and the collective history of mankind can thus be seen as attempts to reconstruct the original situation. An unfinished and endless cure for our divided condition. But it is not my intention to provide yet another description of this feeling. I am simply stressing the fact that for us this existential condition expresses itself in historical terms. It thus becomes an awareness of our history. How and when does this feeling appear and how is it transformed into consciousness? The reply to this double-edged question can be given in the form of a theory or a personal testimony. I prefer the latter: there are many theories and none is entirely convincing.

The feeling of separation is bound up with the oldest and vaguest of my memories: the first cry, the first scare. Like every child I built emotional bridges in the imagination to link me to the world and to other people. I lived in a town on the outskirts of Mexico City, in an old dilapidated house that had a jungle-like garden and a great room full of books. First games and first lessons. The garden soon became the centre of my world; the library, an enchanted cave. I used to read and play with my cousins and schoolmates. There was a fig tree, temple of vegetation, four pine trees, three ash trees, a nightshade, a pomegranate tree, wild grass and prickly plants that produced purple grazes. Adobe walls. Time was elastic; space was a spinning wheel. All time, past or future, real or imaginary, was pure presence. Space transformed itself ceaselessly. The beyond was here, all was here: a valley, a mountain, a distant country, the neighbours' patio. Books with pictures, especially history books, eagerly leafed through, supplied images of deserts and jungles, palaces and hovels, warriors and princesses, beggars and kings. We were shipwrecked with Sinbad and with Robinson, we fought with d'Artagnan, we took Valencia with the Cid. How I would have liked to stay forever on the Isle of Calypso! In summer the green branches of the fig tree would sway like the sails of a caravel or a pirate ship. High up on the mast, swept by the wind, I could make out islands and continents, lands that vanished as soon as they became tangible. The world was limitless yet it was always within reach; time was a pliable substance that weaved an unbroken present.

When was the spell broken? Gradually rather than suddenly. It is hard to accept being betrayed by a friend, deceived by the woman we love, or that the idea of freedom is the mask of a tyrant. What we call "finding out" is a slow and tricky process because we ourselves are the accomplices of our errors and deceptions. Nevertheless, I can remember fairly clearly an incident that was the first sign, although it was quickly forgotten. I must have been about six when one of my cousins who was a little older showed me a North American magazine with a photograph of soldiers marching along a huge avenue, probably in New York. "They've returned from the war" she said. This handful of words disturbed me, as if they foreshadowed the end of the world or the Second Coming of Christ. I vaguely knew that somewhere far away a war had ended a few years earlier and that the soldiers were marching to celebrate their victory. For me, that war had taken place in another time, not here and now. The photo refuted me. I felt literally dislodged from the present.

From that moment time began to fracture more and more. And there was a plurality of spaces. The experience repeated itself more and more frequently. Any piece of news, a harmless phrase, the headline in a newspaper: everything proved the outside world's existence and my own unreality. I felt that the world was splitting and that I did not inhabit the present. My present was disintegrating: real time was somewhere else. My time, the time of the garden, the fig tree, the games with friends, the drowsiness among the plants at three in the afternoon under the sun, a fig torn open (black and red like a live coal but one that is sweet and fresh): this was a fictitious time. In spite of what my senses told me, the time from over there, belonging to the others, was the real one, the time of the real present. I accepted the inevitable: I became an adult. That was how my expulsion from the present began.

It may seem paradoxical to say that we have been expelled from the present, but it is a feeling we have all had at some moment. Some of us experienced it first as a condemnation, later transformed into consciousness and action. The search for the present is neither the pursuit of an earthly paradise nor that of a timeless eternity: it is the search for a real reality. For us, as Spanish Americans, the real present was not in our own countries: it was the time lived by others, by the English, the French and the Germans. It was the time of New York, Paris, London. We had to go and look for it and bring it back home. These years were also the years of my discovery of literature. I began writing poems. I did not know what made me write them: I was moved by an inner need that is difficult to define. Only now have I understood that there was a secret relationship between what I have called my expulsion from the present and the writing of poetry. Poetry is in love with the instant and seeks to relive it in the poem, thus separating it from sequential time and turning it into a fixed present. But at that time I wrote without wondering why I was doing it. I was searching for the gateway to the present: I wanted to belong to my time and to my century. A little later this obsession became a fixed idea: I wanted to be a modern poet. My search for modernity had begun.

What is modernity? First of all it is an ambiguous term: there are as many types of modernity as there are societies. Each has its own. The word's meaning is uncertain and arbitrary, like the name of the period that precedes it, the Middle Ages. If we are modern when compared to medieval times, are we perhaps the Middle Ages of a future modernity? Is a name that changes with time a real name? Modernity is a word in search of its meaning. Is it an idea, a mirage or a moment of history? Are we the children of modernity or its creators? Nobody knows for sure. It doesn't matter much: we follow it, we pursue it. For me at that time modernity was fused with the present or rather produced it: the present was its last supreme flower. My case is neither unique nor exceptional: from the Symbolist period, all modern poets have chased after that magnetic and elusive figure that fascinates them. Baudelaire was the first. He was also the first to touch her and discover that she is nothing but time that crumbles in one's hands. I am not going to relate my adventures in pursuit of modernity: they are not very different from those of other 20th-Century poets. Modernity has been a universal passion. Since 1850 she has been our goddess and our demoness. In recent years, there has been an attempt to exorcise her and there has been much talk of "postmodernism". But what is postmodernism if not an even more modern modernity?

For us, as Latin Americans, the search for poetic modernity runs historically parallel to the repeated attempts to modernize our countries. This tendency begins at the end of the 18th Century and includes Spain herself. The United States was born into modernity and by 1830 was already, as de Tocqueville observed, the womb of the future; we were born at a moment when Spain and Portugal were moving away from modernity. This is why there was frequent talk of "Europeanizing" our countries: the modern was outside and had to be imported. In Mexican history this process begins just before the War of Independence. Later it became a great ideological and political debate that passionately divided Mexican society during the 19th Century. One event was to call into question not the legitimacy of the reform movement but the way in which it had been implemented: the Mexican Revolution. Unlike its 20th-Century counterparts, the Mexican Revolution was not really the expression of a vaguely utopian ideology but rather the explosion of a reality that had been historically and psychologically repressed. It was not the work of a group of ideologists intent on introducing principles derived from a political theory; it was a popular uprising that unmasked what was hidden. For this very reason it was more of a revelation than a revolution. Mexico was searching for the present outside only to find it within, buried but alive. The search for modernity led
samara lael Mar 2019
why am i like this?
how do i scare everyone away?
i am your biggest fear, your phobia, the monster on the streets.
i paint my claws that i only ever hurt myself with.
my hair is a nest where nightmares hatch, & the mascara dries on my cheeks.
these eyes find the flaws, but they also see the scars and weep.
what? don’t you want to kiss me?  
or are my chapped lips too angsty?
do they say “crazy *itch” at you?  
do my endless questions also itch at your skin?
at least your skin seems comfortable.
but how dare i make this all about me, when we all go through the same.

because i am your drama queen.
i declare a set of rules, i keep records on what you say,
i write letters to your name & invest in you each day.
each day i put on my armour & climb the watch tower.
i see you on your horse.  
you are not the knight.  
but you shine regardless.
you earn the trust for you to enter the iron gates.
once you are in, the damage is done.  
it just takes your leave for me to feel the sword.
what hurts is that i tripped over it.  
my vulnerabilities were out  
in the open.
& you accidentally hurt me.
this, humans can’t promise not to do.

i am an addict.
i write my insecurities & my inabilities down,  
& my pride goes into poetry.
i do nothing about anything.
& i can’t.  
some would say it’s pathetic,  
how one can be so overwhelmed by the underwhelming,
how one can be so distraught by the daily doses of life.
if i accept it then i have given up my responsibility.
if i ignore it then it silently damages me & my capability.
if i address it i am holding on & i deny my viability.
whatever i do, it has won,  
& it has left me with nothing.

but that’s what a loser does.

sometimes i feel my feelings feel too much.
sometimes nothing makes sense.
sometimes it feels normal that nothing feels okay.
but that’s okay.
sometimes i stress about stressing about stress.
sometimes i hate my irrational abnormality.
sometimes i cry about my weakness.
but that has to be okay.

there isn’t a definitive answer to my questions.
there seems to be more struggles than strengths.
there isn’t a clear path, or a silver platter with a cure for me.
my clothes cover my cares like sugar coats the pills i swallow.
The pill being _.
but i make a choice.
a lot of the time it seems i don’t have one.
but i do.
sometimes i am influenced to make it,
but i do.
i do.
i always do.


doctors and scientists are trying to find
the causes, effects, & answers.
i sleep & wait.
but instead we should be
& never ever letting go.

even if they prove it is part of my genetic makeup
i will wake up,
i will get up,
i will make up,
i will stay up,
i will help myself,
help others help myself,
help others help themselves,
& help others help others.
i will highlight my temples with wisdom & peace.
i will shadow my eyes with beauty & light.
i will paint my lips with humility & kindness.  

my genetics will not make up whether i give up or not.
they will not make up my mind,
or make up someone else’s.
my genetics are not choosing if i live or not.
suicide is not a choice.
suicide is not make-up.
suicide is not a gene.

& suicide  
will not take part  
in my genetic makeup.
Disclosed Nov 2012
It scares the **** out of me
Knowing that one day you'll be a teenager
Talking back to mom,
blasting music in your room,
Lying about grades,
stressing over college.

But promise me,
promise me you'll try to be nice to mommy.
At least nicer than I was.
She really means the best.

that you'll be a good student,
don't leave things to the last minute.
Trust me I learned it the hard way.

Please baby,
be a good person.
Sharice Frieson Jun 2015
Get’s the best
Intoxication becomes lust
Lost becomes knots
Unknown answers
Constant runarounds
shocked because the man tased it
hobo sweater Nov 2014
middle of the week.
a little further than Monday, a little closer to Friday.
in between all the school days.

I am so tired
tired in a Wednesday morning
I just want to get back
to bed and sleep til
Friday greets me

hell week.
the week approaching
the dreadful exams
the week where
students are tortured
and suffer
the week with no guarantee
of sleep and relaxation
but only stress.

I'm so fed up
with the things I'm
supposed to do
many things to be
nervous about
stressing about
complaining about
but it seems that Im
running out of care
to do them

I just want to get this
to get over with
carry me to friday
8TH-OCT-2014 05:58 AM
Lea Loveit Apr 2016
By know you are old enough to try to understand
What love is between a women and a man
You see, at this point you don't have names
And Gregory can't settle the same.
Gregory is your farther as you know
You're not even a thought yet we can't wait for you to grow.
You won't be born in the next five years
But as soon as you're planted I'll cry happy tears.
Daddy and I are preparing
For when we  have to start caring.
Everything we do right now is for your advantage
So there won't be much struggle in your life to manage
Dad will soon be in the real world
And I will be his supportive girl.
I will still live with grandmama
And he'll still live his mama.
As of now that is okay
Because as long as we pray
God will be there for you, dad and I
Assuring us everything will be fine.
Ten minutes before I was stressing
But then remembered that God is always blessing.
That rule is for you as well as the rest of planet Earth.
I can't want to give birth
But I know I'm not ready
I gotta take it slow and steady.
Daddy will get the best job and make good money
So your days will always be sunny.
I will continue to learn and save some funds
And the best will never go undone.
I'm two years behind and dad is two years ahead
So that we can afford the best place for you to lay your head.
Dad is so sure and confident that I am the one
no matter how much I say I'm done.
I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else by my side
No one can handle the bumpy ride.
Dad would go through it all for you kids
He even went to Madrid.
But I hope and pray we never disappoint
Because we became joint
Without the love and motivation
How could we have reach salvation?
I started on February 16th
Everyday into every week
Building together
For an amazing forever.
So when you're mad at us just remember
That things will always get better,
We did nothing but try,
For you everything we buy,
A family we will always be,
Although sometimes we might not agree,
We work the hardest we can,
And made the strongest plan,
For you, our creation out of love,
Which is made of
Some of dad, some of mom
And a whole lot of love bombs.
So as I study tonight
And dad fight the world full of spite,
We remember everything we do
Is motivated towards you.
When pa is playing in the back yard,
Or i'm rocking you back to bed as a guard,
We value every moment
For you kids to never be broken

Love Mommy

P.s. I forever love you kiddies
Just thinking of the future
The Shepherd of the highland,
The land on which the wind
Chills, any wind chills many ewes.
My ewes, my pride,
I do feed them my will
I do heal them with wit
Oh yes I do!
I have been such, since I was
And still, I need my self
I harvest reap,
I water deep,
I lurk heaps
Of stressing peeps.
And from day to day,
I, my healthy ewes take
To the slaughter house
To slaughter them.
They give fresh meat
To people to eat,
And beneath my feet
Their blood fleet
Feed the highland.
I kept away many winds:
Winds that chill
Root out and ****
Emptiness fill,
In the highland where I__
I after a drill
Still the shepherd, still.
Melissa Breanne Aug 2011
Have you ever wanted to cry
To let out all feeling locked up inside
I experience this everyday
Not knowing who I can trust
Who I can turn to in times of need

Jesus is always there for me
I can speak to him through prayer
I love him more than anything
But I long for a human friend
Someone who will always listen

Whether I'm obsessing about a boy
Or stressing over an upcoming test
When things go wrong they'll be there
They'll know when I need a hug
Or a shoulder to cry on

God, will you help me find them?
The person I can trust with my life
Someone who feels the same as me
And will always support me
That's the kind of friend I need
Seb Tha Guru Jun 2017
Stressing for some days.
Then I caught my case.
I been on the run trying to give myself some time to think.
Sitting in my room, all I did was drink and pray.
Call home twice a week and tell my people I'm ok.
They ask me if I'm stressing, I'll say hell no I'm straight.
But they can tell I'm different because it's written all in my face.
I been working out.
I been gaining weight.
Been having dreams and nightmares about my death and case.

Ain't nobody send me no mail.
Stressing with my back home girl.
Trying to see and conquer the world.
But it all is seeming like just like jail.
Writing down my plans, hoping I don't slip again.
Drop some money on my poems and books and trust me I'll bounce back again.

Things aren't looking good.
But still I keep the faith.
While I'm sitting up in California, trying to fight my case.
Running through this maze.
Just miss my mom and daughters face.
I come out every weekend out my cell just to party and to drank.
Back and forth with peoples words and court,
They talking bout some rank.
I ain't did that since with the homies I was raised.
Everyone across the country,
They seem so far away.
As I'm sitting up in California, trying to fight my case.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
i can't believe i'm giving advice...
this is not what, alexander dumas
taught me via athos...

   the best advice,
         is to not give any advice

but seriously...
you want to peer into devices,
whether static,
or mobile,
   and you're not wearing sunglasses?
esp. at night?

   where's your western version
of the niqab?!

    you can prop up the shady
gemini, on the tip of your nose...
so your eyes, can actually peer
into the night,
and the social lighting -
of street-lamps,
  and the stars...

but then peering into the tablet,
or a laptop screen,
you're wearing sunglasses...

unless you're like me...
perched with a folded foot,
sitting on it,
with the other dangling off
the windowsill...
   and you find yourself
catching colours in the night,
with the pair of sunglasses
having, made the slide
to the tip of your nose:
so your eyes are actually visible
to the onlooker...

    templar chants:
   mozart who?
                    beethoven who? will not even play
any christopher young:
so why should i even "think",
but most assuredly doubt:
that they might even entertain
the "idea" of playing
  a śpiew templariuszy?
we could debate...
whether that ought to be -
  śpiew templariuszów
            i.e. - of, the: templars...
-ów is this, kind of distinction...
     -y is... a distinction
   only encompassing
of - the given content.

both are terms: invoking the plural -
not... of a templar -
          but of templars...
****! i studied chemistry and
didn't get a job in the industry...
what, do you think,
the remnants of theory,
have remained, imprinted on me,
if i do not create an Ar to mean
argon, or Na, to mean sodium?
   cheap-**** poetics?!
   champagne, ******* literati

- but honest to god,
   if you're not wearing sunglasses,
and peering into any version
of a computer screen?
      welcome to anti-Poseidon's
eye-sight underwater,
give or take 5 to 10 years...
    a bit blurry, a bit:
"all over the place" -
        myopic... you name it...

i'd probably be allowed to peer
into the sun, with a naked eye,
and experience less
damage to eyesight,
than peering into Beelzebub's
pixel phantasmagorical circus
of what, we might call:
the alternative junkies...
                      of information...

- and how many middle aged
men, or women,
will confine themselves to read
philosophy in retirement?
   and they'll have an audience
of one, by then...
namely their shadow...

                   "speaking" the truth...
can i just be lazy and avoid
the exercise of the tongue
within the confines of the h'american
standard, and exercise my right:
to write about it?
  by writing i mean:
a delaying tactic...
    a... filter mechanißation...
    why bother speaking -
attracting bothersome flies?
   can't people employ covert methods
of establishing "knowledge"?

     i can't even explain why
people require the right to speak so much...
i go to an Essex market,
and hear the freedom of speech

  2 f'er 'un bunch ah bananas!
   'un pund... *** yer bunch ov bananas!

    the problem being...
     how can you...
actually sell... an idea?
when the original "idea" sold...
is the tornado of the monetary,
trans-valuation of all values concept,
within the tornado,
of the use of money?

what idea is actually left, to sell?
an idea is non digestible...
   it's certainly without an implementation
parameters of a spoken of: so
of spoken, translated into an implemented
          voluntary ingestion...
         but crafting a monetary
spin-off of an idea...
      philosophy is not exactly
the sort of originality of a physics eureka!

whoever these modern, "philosophers"
              they, clearly claim to have
read a lot,
  but forgot to realiße that they...
  "think" like the ancient greek sophists...
    rhetoricians: who would be better
off teaching rhetoric,
rather than focusing on...
  or rather stressing...
    the ontological digestion of ideas...
which are: neither bought,
nor sold...
              perhaps i've entertained,
or rather: perhaps prostitutes entertained
my presence...
     but i do know: what *******
the mind, looks like!
                 i know what the new form
of begging looks like...
      some think that prostitution is bad...
but have these same people,
ever introspected an opinion,
concerning what: ******* the mind
looks like?
            not really, no.
Adria Maria Apr 2014
You love to brag
Only thing you're good at
You say I'm the most important thing to you
and yet
you have no idea how old i am,
what my favourite colour is,
you try to feed me jelly even though I'm alergic.
You know my mental sanity is precarious
I'm crumbling.
But you insist on stressing me out
time after time.
Start over.
Or better yet,
just leave
Best you could give me is peace. silence
Your absence, the most thoughtful of gifts.
Relief at last.
Luis Paris Jan 2015
If I could rip my heart out I would've done it already
Put it in the blender and make it look like mushed spaghetti
Then throw it in the air like if it was confetti
Then walk out the house and say I'm ready
To live a life with no pain
No more love games
After all that nothing would ever be the same
I'd be heartless, careless
No more stressing out till I'm hairless
No more hoping that life was filled with fairness
I'd have life held by its reins
completely tamed
And there would be no one that could drive me insane
Playing life like a game
Perfectly passing everything, put the high score next to my name
I'd be as hot as the devil
But instead I'm stuck here in the same level
Big Virge Jan 2016
So what is the reason ?

The reason for WHAT … !!!

The reason I be seeing ...
"Ignorance" … in  …
Human Beings … ?!? …

Why are these … " Demons " …
…… " Breathing " …… !?!?!?!

There has to be a reason … ?!?

So Many … Seasons
So Many … Beatings
So Many … Cheating
So Many … Feelings

That …
Leave people … SEETHING … !!!!!!

You See … " Some " …
End up … REELING … !!!
and then  … end up …
…… " Kneeling " ……. !!!!!!!

Asking for … " Guidance "
to … riSE ABOVE … " Violence "

And To …
riSE ABOVE … PAIN … !!!!!

That drives … MANY …
…….. INSANE ……… !!!!!!

So ... is there a reason ?
for people left … " BLEEDING " … ??!??

I wonder … if … ?
" Heathens " …
or … Christians … ?

A Need … for a … " Faith "
that … Relegates … " hate "
and YES …… " Separatism "

To a place where … " Religion "
Does NOT … deal in … KILLING … !!!!!
or … Visions of …. " Living " ….
That … Stand By … DIVISION …  

for … " Racism " … ???

TOO MANY … to mention … !!!
But … They Need …
….. PREVENTION ….. !!!!!

Reasons for … STRESSING … ?!?

Well ….
Life can be … " Testing " … !!!
when people be … " Messing "
with … How you be … " Blessing "
yourself with … " Wise Lessons " …

Instead of … investing …
in … Spreading … " infections " … !!!!!
where … Reason is … lessened … ?!?!?
to let … "Tension" … STRENGTHEN … !!!!!

What Reason … ?
Now … Feeds … ?
My … " Poetic Themes " … ?

I've written … TOO MANY … !!!
That Prove … I Rock … STEADY … !!!

because my themes … Vary …
from vibes of what's … Scary …
to songs of ….. Chuck Berry …… !!!

So … " Johnny Be Goode "
cos it's a … " Mean Old World "

Use … " Reason " …
and ….. WOOD ….. !!!

to …
" Sweet Up " … These girls … !!!!!!

So …..
What is … " The Reason " …  ?
Girls … get your heart … BEATING …
to the point where … Your Breathing …
Then … Hinders … your speaking … ?!!!?

All … " Tongue Tied " … !!!!!

while guys who are … " Sly " …
Slip … between … their thighs …
and have … Kissed them … " Goodbye "
before … you can …. " Find " ….

A way to say … " Hi " … !!!!!

Ahhhh well … Never mind …

I Reason with … WOMEN … !!!!!
from end to … Beginning …
and find that … They … " LOVE "…
More than they … " Huh Hmmm " … !!!!!!

What Reason … Defines … ???
Wordplay that … Kicks Rhymes …
and flows … just like mine … !!! …

Where Expletives … " Recline "
and … Good Diction … SHINES … !!!!!

I'd say … " Education " …
Negating … " Playstation " …

and time that is … Spent …
Expressing with … Friends …
are things that … YES … " Lend " …
Themselves to …. " Poems " ….

That … " Reason " …
through verse … about this …

….. " Crazy World " ….. !!?!! …..

So …..
Here's where … These Words …
Now take a …… NEW TURN ……

I Reason with … " Heads " …
who deal in … " Good Sense " …

So ……
These heads aren't … " Common "
and … Don't take … " Offence " …
to … REASON … that … " SEASONS "
just like …… " Gourmet Chefs " ……. !!!!!

or those ….
Who have … " less " …
but … Still Do … THEIR BEST … !!!!!

to leave … taste buds … " Fiending "
for … MORE FOOD … Not … less … !!!!!

Food that is … " Ital " … !!!
and Clearly is … VITAL …
to … " Rasta Man Strength " … !!!

See ...
I Reason with … " Rastas "
who deal in … REAL CHATTER … !!!!!

NOT … " Bogus " … Gun Clappers …
or …. " Ignorant " …. Rappers …. !!!!!!!!

It's … Emcees Who … " Reason " … !!!    
Through Lyrics … They Speak …
Who … INSPIRE … me … !!! …

NOT … Rappers who deal in …
PURE … " Lyrical Treason " … !!!!!

WHAT REASON … " Allows " …  ?!?
Their Pish' … to rock … CROWDS … !?!

while mouths who speak … TRUTH …
and use …. " Soulful Grooves " ….
have to work … TWICE AS HARD … !?!
for their verse to … " Make Marks " …
in the minds of … " Weak Hearts " …
when their wordplay is … SHARP … !!?!!

SHARP and YES … " Pleasing "
to mind states … in … " Regions "
where … " Beacons of Reason " …
Shine BRIGHT … with … " Cohesion "

But … Still give out … BEATINGS …  !!!!!
to … Legions … with … LESIONS … !!!!!!!

because of their … " Teachings " …

I'm an …
" ALL BLACK " … man …
Kind of like … " Polynesians " … !!!!!!

Standing in … " Haka Stance " …

Calling on … " Gods of War " …
for lyrics that …. ROAR …. !!!!!!!!!!!

Just like those … " Maoris " … !!!
YES … Strongly and … Proudly !!!!!
I Reason … with … " Patience "
and … try to be … " Gracious "
when dealing with … " Haters "
Whose Reason's … " Loquacious "

Forget about … " Status "
and making those … Papers … !!!

and … STOP … for a sec …
and … REASON … instead … !!!

YES …. with …. " Yourself "
and … BETTER … Your Health … !!!

These words are … HEARTFELT … !!!!

I suggest that you … " Reason " …
for MORE … " Wealth of Self " …

It's just a … " Suggestion " …
That May … " Hinder " …

…… Stressing …… ?!?

So here's the … " Test Pressing "

More Reason with … " Logic "
that's NOT … " MICROSCOPIC "
or … Worse … " Catastrophic " … !!!!!

Will … PREVENT … More Nonsense …
and … KEEP US …… " On Topics " …….

That … We KEEP …
" WELL SEASONED " … !!!!!

Who … EXTINGUISH … " Treason " … !!!!
and ….. " Fraudulent Speaking " …..

So that …..
We Start … " Reaching " …
for Lessons and … " Teachings " …

That …..

STRENGTHEN … our being …

to use … " Logic " …

with ….. " Reason " …..
In these days of Crazy behaviour, and little to, no reason, being shown by so many, it seems appropriate to share some questions as to the reasons why ?
Donna Bella Aug 2014
It's a challenge
You either get them or not
Lucky if you get them
Out of luck if you didn't
8 am when they release
Running to see if you can reach
Stressing out months ahead
Wondering if you'll ever get them
Then it crashes
Then you're suddenly sad
Life of a sneakerhead
Evergreen Pines Jun 2014
As the semester closes,
Exams are stressing our minds.
To help us relax and not stress(as much),
let us pray to the 12 Olympians.

To Athena, grant us the wisdom required.
To Apollo, let our knowledge shine brighter than before.
To Zeus, help our marks swore to the skies.
To Poseidon, don't let our grades fall deep into the seas.
To Demeter, let us take our exam naturally.
To Ares, that we win the Exam war without bloodshed.
To Aphrodite, gives us the marks we desire.
To Hephaestus, help us forge perfect study notes.
To Artemis, may our heads be a full moon.
To Dionysus, let our freedom be sweeter than your grapes.
And to Hera ... ... please don't turn me into a peacock for not having a pun for you.

Best of luck to all, may the Olympians help us get through our exams
*And may the odds be ever in your favour.
my exams start Wednesday! I DON'T WANT MATH CLASS TO END- everything else I'm okay with- BUT NOT MY MATH CLASS!!!
anyways best of luck to all you people writing exams soon, and yes I did use a Hunger Games reference.
Äŧül Apr 2013
Let me continue the story about a guy named Akshant,
Who belonged to Mathura in India, once the city of Krishna.

Akshant rejoined college and scored acceptably well this time,
He had realized his mistakes while he was to stay at home.
Repentance on committing mistakes intentionally was ripe,
He barely controlled the regret from flowing through his eyes.

Anamika was the only friend who was by his side in this time,
Giving him relief from loneliness which rang as the door chime.
Akshant had a poor memory so not much could stay on his mind,
Stressing his memory too much would only make his brain to grind.

Akshant then studied cautiously holding onto Anamika's hand,
Cautious he was not to crush it as he had formerly done to others.
He brightened up his professional life along with the romantic life,
And he scored brilliantly given his mental health was really affected.

The dried clots inside his brain were still an issue two years later,
But he controlled himself to not harm others from his anger.
The clots used to come out through as tears and ear wax,
Almost all was physically well after three more years.

Akshant went Kodaikanal after his bachelor's degree college,
He was an eligible bachelor when he had a job confirmation.
This happened when he was drifting away in the Kodai lake,
Anamika who sat next to him in the boat congratulated him.

Now Anamika confessed her feelings for Akshant in the boat,
Akshant couldn't find any words & found himself quite quiet.
This made Anamika challenge and taunt about his manliness,
Which caused Akshant get enraged & kiss his reply on her lips.

The boat swayed terribly in the star-shaped lake's still waters,
Anamika ogled & felt her hair get wet & this made her ****** Akshant.
She started kissing him back now & her eyes were coming back to normal,
These had been wide ogling when Akshant had started kissing hard and so it was.
Read part I here:
My HP Poem #176
© Atul Kaushal
Le 17 Avril, 2013.
Underneath a crushing moonlit
Roses are dancing in a glow garden
Cram of comeliness whispering through my pensive
Applaud an agitating mind of dragging love
That submerging under a poetic passion
A wild **** of beauty wishing to crave a romance
Stressing on mind that makes
Bubbles of emotions simultaneously,
Touching and filling the empty dreams
That essence of heaven creating the melody of divine music
Passing through the poet's nose and nails
Deep ache  popping at the heart and stone
There render of love conceiving to catch a **** of heaven
A tangible gaiety that creates so surprising illusion
The glimmer chords becoming to splash
The utmost inflames growing to outburst,
Bursts into the fire of gaiety--
Psyche pouring a fathomless passion till the twilight
Where there I am dancing alone with my shadow,
Ah! my Love--
Oh! my Love ----
What a Crushing Moonlit!!  
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
underneath the crushing moonlit: the beauty makes a divine melody
Dan Filcek Apr 2017
a lasting attraction may result from opposites,
or through sharing
strength varies considerably;
In general, strong bonding is associated with sharing
attraction may be seen as the result of different behaviors
Although these behaviors merge into each other seamlessly
so that there is no clear line to be drawn between them,
the behaviors become different
as the character of the bond changes quantitatively,
In the simplest view
the space between comes not from
the reduction in attraction of the two    
Instead, the reduction and hence instability  arises from the reduction in energy
These bonds exist between two        
and have a direction in space,
allowing them to be shown as connecting lines  
If one or more  are unequally shared  
Bond results are often much weaker
the bonds that hold together must cease
If the structures that result are not both strong and tough,
In a simplified view the bonding is not shared at all,
In this type of bond,
one has a vacancy which allows the addition of more
These newly added potentially occupy a lower state
than they experience in a different  
more tightly bound position
Not being part of any given bonding may be seen as extreme
a large system of bonds is ideal
This type of bonding is often very strong
more collective in nature than other types,
and so they more easily reform,
This results in malleability  
This bonding reaches far,
stressing the character of the combining  power,
and cannot be said to belong to anyone exclusively.
containing more than one    
Sometimes, the possibility
of bond formation is completely neglected.
It is thus no longer possible to associate
This is a situation when the bonds are broken
They continue to be attracted to each other,
with a significant  luster
But are repulsed by each other.
National Poetry Month 2017 - source
Bitter Heartache Jun 2014
I think Nicole is just in love with me
you said.
Yeah, right. As If I would ever fall for someone like you
I replied.
It was a lie,
Because as those words spilled from my lips
      my heart hopelessly spilled open for you.

and it falls further

Every time you catch my eyes
wandering to your jawline
(it is quite often).
Every time you say my name
stressing it in all the right parts
(stressing my heart as well).
Every time you walk out those doors
and I begin to count the days to when I will see you again
(it is 18 days as of now).

Yes. Yes I am in love with you, you're right.*
I whisper.
But you are miles away,
And I am speaking to a memory.

— The End —