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Zoie Marie Lynn Nov 2017
i gave my heart away to a traveler in ****** shoes,
he had pretty eyes that made up for his pretty lies,
and now i don't know what to do.
i gave my soul away to a girl that said she worked for god,
she had oil in her hair but i didn't really care,
but she wasn't at all what i'd thought.
i gave my dreams to an artist i met down the street,
he knew what buttons to press to make me scream,
and now i'm not so sure that was a good thing.
i fell for a rose i thought was thriving,
but she was wilted, she was dying,
and i left quick as lightning.
i gave my limbs to a walking light beam,
he was made of this steel that tightly wrapped around me,
but these indents in my bones are a little too extreme.
i gave my poetry to the monster under my bed,
she crawled in and promised in the morning we'd be wed,
and now there's no rings but a shadow begging me to turn off the sun instead.
i'm just a moment, so don't let me pass you by
JayceeJellies Nov 2014
Why does everyone want to lose it?
Isn't it supposed to be somewhat sacred?
I've always thought so.
It's too bad that mine was stolen from me.
We devour our own hearts,
as they speak dialects we cannot
comprehend. As it trembled in
our hands, bleeding, throbbing
in our wake. Today, we're not
meant for survival, we're
surgical addicts. You can't
amount to what you're
supposed to be if you're not
whole-
I've been working on a large poem, in the meantime, this one just kinda came to me.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate
fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is
everything we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
~~~
Daniel eason Nov 2018
Here i stand
Under your demand
What is it you want from me
I am a man who is supposed to be free

Away from the rivalry and abruptness

Not today
Not tomorrow

Far away
I No longer follow

Ive got to open the 1st page and start again
No longer aboard this repetitive train
A poem about starting all over.
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness
and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything
we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
~~~
Rafael Melendez Nov 2015
DNA
Rigid, ****, painful intervals of burning in the pores of my skin.
A rough sensation in my heart, I missed her more than I cared for my own life.
  At what point in time did my ancestors devolve me, when did my DNA first form this biological gap?

My instincts were supposed to protect me.
Tristan Currie Jul 2018
I don't believe in being humble anymore
Righteousness is the key ingredient in ignorance.
And in the hands of the righteous
innocence becomes arrogant misdirection.

To care for people is hard but crucial;
so have compassion,
and have anger.

I feel not, exactly the same
as you feel
nor exactly the opposite,
because a supposed majority don't.

I feel compassion
I feel anger
because, on balance, feelings guide;
They hurt, they're inconvenient
they bleed,
they can even die.

But nurtured and given time to develop,  
given a protective but non-insular infrastructure of thought
a feeling grows to reflect more than what is inside you,  
so you can overcome self-doubt -
and thwart unneccessary suffering the world over
JayceeJellies May 2015
Take care of me,
Be there for me.
Never discourage me,
Love me unconditionally.
You're supposed to be my mother.
But you treat me like I'm nothing.
I'm sick of your constant disrespect,
The loss of love in your eyes that makes me want to cry,
It's itching inside of the back of my mind.
And someday I'll say goodbye to you,
You won't want me to,
But you can't make me stay.
You're not my mom.
But until then,
I'll be walking in the rain.
JayceeJellies Nov 2014
The arguments are so agitating.
Why can't you just love me unconditionally?
Isn't that what we're supposed to do?
We are family, aren't we?
robot mom Jan 2016
Admire the proportions, the features, the confidence.
These are supposed to define the ideal male.
These things have nothing to with my perception of ideal.

When I put myself in that position.
I call myself Michelangelo, David in front of me.
I admire his proportions, his features, his confidence.

I throw myself so far into the fantasy, reality becomes a fog.
Enamored by him, his features, our closeness.
I am entranced by him, we transcend into the unknown.

I return to reality, and realize that I've gone too far.
I can't take back the words I've said,
or the time I've spent staring into his eyes.

But I'm no Michelangelo and he is not David.
My inspiration is much closer to my heart.

The love in my heart.
The passion beneath the gaze.
laura Mar 2018
(you do you, baby boo, i know moms
who rather write poetry and spend five
bucks on their kids’ mouths lolol)

always the act of forgetting the people
behind the screen, when you blame me
like mingling with lanceheaded dreams

delivering pointless blows spelling it
like im incomplete unless i bring all of
myself to the table alone

& the room’s clean, and the kitchen’s clean
the birds sing and the sunlight’s cold and bright
seems like everything’s where it’s supposed
to be when you’re not around

now what a paradox that is
People be like, just donate 5 bucks lel not that hard yo

sure thing captain
There is no greater pain
Than to love someone, and then to hate them
Form up a strong resolution to be impenetrable
Only for them to ask forgiveness
And tear down your wall
Because you know in your heart they don't love you
They can't, they never did
They miss your attention
But don't reciprocate the affection
And yet you can't let go
Because there's a foolish amount of hope
That maybe this time, this time they will love you
That maybe being a friend can lead to something more?
But you know it's not true!
And yet you listen to the pining of your heart
Because, somehow, it's supposed to make it easier
punk rock hippy Jul 2014
I want to hit it hard, not romanticize about the blood ya feel me?
As you read that first line,
when you cross over to the second,
your nose will start to bleed just before my fist connects with your face.
I often dream about it, being feared.
The only reason that you're on the ground is because I put you there.
Quite frankly I'm fearful of myself.
My throat still holds the ache of the alcohol going down.
I swear to you I'm doing better.
I swear.

I can't swear in this house hold so I will talk so quickly creating run on sentences without punctuation or breath because I'm panicking over nothing in particular.

******.

Add some shakes to your vocabulary and you've got it right.
My medication puts stray dogs under my finger nails, that's ok because dogs are happiness.
That's supposed to mean I'm happy.

I made myself write this, its horrifyingly scattered just like my head.

That's not right.
That's wrong.
Something is terribly wrong so I must fix it.

That's what I do,
I fix.
I'll just look at this as art.
Some persons trash is another ones treasure.

I'm too scared to write anymore.


This is garbage.
You were supposed to stay.
You were supposed to be at my graduation and my dance recitals.
I was supposed to tell you everything!
You would have been my Maid of Honor.
Helping me get ready on my wedding day or graduation day.
But none of that will happen because you told me.
"Were too different to be friends"
-Gillian Askeland
Deceive me
Lie to me
**** with my head

On the edge of the cliff
Then you pull me to bed

Your love is a drug
*** with you gets me high
I’m a full blown ******
Makes no sense; don’t know why

You're an ever present torment
The fission laser splitting my mind
A jig-saw puzzle that was completed
Slowly each piece from each piece you unbind

Seductively you tear me down
Like the clothing you disrobe
A deer staring into headlights
I am frozen on the road

The weight of the world bearing down on me
As those focused beams get closer
Gladly I welcome them
Even though I’m not supposed to

Every rational thought I have
tells me how wrong you are for me
But they are drowned and muffled out
No more thoughts; keep your pennies

No sensible way to explain
Why I ******* love you so much
You’re a psychotic crazy *****
that I don’t want anyone else to touch
A blowtorch ignites a flame
A fire fierce and burning bright
Even though I know it will burn me
With all my gathered strength and might

All it takes from you is that look
You cast that Vampire’s gaze and grin
Instantaneously my defenses lowered
and you know you’ve ****** me in
Immerse myself into the flame
Intense pain you melt my skin
Until pain I feel no more
I’m enveloped in your sin

And like a ****** choosing dope
Everyday your sin I’ll take
I will gladly sell my soul
The most egregious of mistakes

A preying succubus appears
like a dreamy demoness
A world of dreams are turned to nightmares
Fills her needs for human flesh
Written: February 19, 2018

All rights reserved.
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
Your moth light is supposed to
sustain me.

I am told to discredit
my sun,

its fuel unnecessary,
yours enough.

What do shadows live on,
this light?

I am the keeper of your
caterpillar dreams.
Lizzy Apr 2014
Relapse and rewind
This happens every ******* time.
I've been neglecting the drugs,
The ones that were supposed to save me.

They only make it worse
Make me feel more crazy.
But when the time comes
Where my tide breaks
I cannot hold my ground.
The monsters come to me
With deafening sound.

Whispers from malevolent lips
Sound so sweet.
Like candy for my starving soul.
And soon I'm on that sugar high.

Rushing cherry red
It's got such a lovely flavor.
Feeds my hunger
Satisfies my thirst.

It won't be long
Before I'm back for more.
Joliver Sep 2018
"What would you know about love?"

                    I know it's supposed to hurt

                                                  ...but not like this
Pea Oct 2016
Mum and dad look, i have a poem
It is a poem I've written and kept and hidden
It is a poem I'll get mad about if you take a peek
Mum and dad look. I have a poem
I honestly hate to mention you in my poem
I don't want any of you be in any of my poem
Mum and dad look. I have a poem
This poem is not for you, mum and dad
This poem is not about you, mum and dad
Why would you think i would sacrifice a poem for you. Mum and dad?
Why would you think i would keep you safely in the blanket of my fluffy words. Mum and dad?

Mum and dad look. I have a poem
I wrote my first poem at 4 and it wasn't about you so you were sad but you did not want to admit it so you made fun of me, right?
Mum and dad look, i have a poem
Mum and dad look. It is not only one poem
I have hundreds and hundreds poems. Mum and dad
Mum and dad look
Those are what I've written all these years
Those are what I've kept from you all these years
Those are what I've hidden from your eyes and mother tongues
Please
Just misunderstand me. It's enough
My english is irrelevant. Leave it alone
Mum and dad. Look i have a poem
Mum and dad look i have a poem
I have a
Mum and dad will you read my poems?
Mum and dad will you misunderstand them again and again just like what you do to me?

Mum and dad. Look i have
Mum and dad look i have
Mum and dad look i have

a poem
MUM AND DAD LOOK I HAVE A POEM
Dear Trusting Nurse-Maid, must we Speculate
The Favours your Leader asked has mulled
Far healing cry a tearful Reprobate
And supposed Cheerful Innocence has dulled
As soon as the Red Tabloid goes to Sin
And whips the Pink Horse we all fantasy
Your Prince suddenly squeezes on a Whim
Which the Next Frustration will testify
I envy you all. Despite Fashion's Change
Like Solemn Dakinis prayed for Support
Cry the Call for War; And within a Range
Mark him a Target then file my Report.
I have lost that War. And the Battle as well
Yours straight to Heaven; Mine a Journey's Hell.
#daleysangels
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