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EgoFeeder May 2013
Good day my friends and Salut to you!
Time to play herald and this is my cue
So, here comes my woe in a rhythmic fashion;
as this was written in the era of post-passion

And for the curious readers who know not of I
Seemless and keen to write I will try
You need not comprehend all that is meant;
yet, for a moment or less your time will be spent

Let me begin with a synopsis of my vision
It was far from forgiving and was lost in decision
I could never be quite sure of the light or dark;
For in the absent and present my sense would embark

Continually being coated with an artificial Gleam;
Rendering my wakefulness as a fragile like dream
Which in-turn lit the path to my lack of importance;
Painting the illustrated guise for my willful ignorance

And, The descension of unstable ethics I had once grasped
I new inevitably would meet their eventual relapse
Into what I predominately labeled as a Karmic curse
A constant role disassociation fixed in reverse

If that indefinite definition didn't tickle your fancy
Then maybe a second look will decipher real from fantasy?
Or rather not and maybe so; but atleast I try...
Fine! I'll move past this rant and attempt not to pry

I must confess that the strain of guilt was an essential tool;
For supressing the need to an end that wasn't simple to fool
Although, as the days came to more and the weeks into age;
I could barely relate to anything that I had inked onto page

The mind I had always and sincerely held in such awry regard;
Stood to spoilate my sorrow and to watch as my guard
To forget all that had ignited the suspensful act of survival
Forming the catalyst for this decrepit rebirth of revival

What I have just stated is immersed in the human condition;
Can you not remember the awakening of your own re-invention?
I suppose for some it may be subtle and largely unnoticed,
but to me and several others it isn't so easily dismissed

For I had not fully acknowledged the diversity of duality;
Until that morning when I had lost my will for frivolity
Every pleasure of my past rotted out from the inside
Revealing the inner workings of what I falsely wore as pride

I finally came to terms with what had substituted as my mask;
discovering that the pursuit for belonging is such a hopeless task
Like searching for a lover in the midst of a masquerade;
As the sunset fades our flaws are free to roam from the shade

To most it might seem as if I'm entirely self-centered
and perhaps the art of indulgence I may have mastered
yet, If you're putting my concern for your well being into question;
Then just maybe we've stumbled across a universal Contradiction?
greatsloth Dec 2024
In the midst of jolly red
I alone stood bit distant,
Aloof, and somewhat lonely

Merry is just an arms reach
Yet that gap felt like light-years
Among the crowd, I'm not one

I chose to let the cold seep
It built me my apathy
Supressing both joy and tears

But what sealed can be unsealed,
A hint of warm, long lost love
And I'll wish for stars collide.
Isobel G Jan 2011
Wringing my hands,
As I walk down the hall,
Supressing the nausea,
My nails dig deep,
Through my soft wrists,
As I reach his door,
I hold my breath,
My heart pounds dangerously,
When I see him,
Surrounded by crisp white pillows,
And blue sheets,
He looks dead,
My mind screams,
I long to rip down the walls,
He murmurs,
Indeciferable words,
His voice rusty and unused,
I'm so scared,
Almost too scared to embrace him,
I think he might break,
The adults mummble,
Attempting to conceal,
The devestating topic of conversation,
Plans, decisions,
So many to be made,
I stifle the urge to cry,
We are all so empty,
And he is dying
©Nicola-Isobel H.      29.01.2011

If you didn't get it, this is set in a hospital.
always anxious Dec 2018
I breathe in until I feel like my lungs might explode. I tighten my neck muscels and before I can think - My entire body is tense.

I'm trying to supress it. It has ruined so much but I will not let it ruin another moment...
I grind my teeth trying to supress it further, not realizing that grinding my teeth ... was a tic too.

Letting my mind slip for a second; I come to find that I have failed - once again
I flick my head, blink my eyes violently - turning the day into a stop motion movie - Once again I already know the plot.

Everything is moving in slowmotion around me - my body moving too fast to hold it in I fail - once again my body is dancing to a beat that is not mine.

I feel the pain in my neck. It is sore from giving into the neverending urge - once again it is strained from constant twitching and has been for god knows how long.

I try to ignore the pain and focus on supressing what's coming next, but being distracted by the pain I fail - once again I flick my head and exhale as fast as humanly possible. The exhale doesn't come alone - it never does. A pallette of sounds escape my mouth.

It was not me making those sounds, but the lungs affected by the pain are mine.
I feel the cycle starting over - once again.

It goes through me like a wave of energy.
I have been robbed of the control over my own body - once again.
The power to fight back has ... vanished.

I go to bed early but sleep late; battling this force with every shard of energy I could possibly have left - Once again leaving me exhausted enough to finally sleep, despite the constant twitching.

They say it's a chemical imbalance in my brain.
Too much dopamine is released.
As far as I'm concerned dopamine is a "Feel good hormone", so why does it make me so miserable?

I lay here thinking about when this cycle will end?
And when it finally does end, when will it restart? - Once again...
I suffer from tourettes syndrome. This poem is written about how it feels to have a tic attack
- an unknown length of time filled with constant tics. It can last anywhere from 2 minutes to 24 hours.
Poetic T Mar 2015
Its face white purity of a colour
Hiding sin,
Cloaking hatred
Supressing that within,
With a smile of red smudged lips
The bright coloured clothes,
A flower adorned this kaleidoscope
Of colour, fragrant stench
To conceal,    
To cloak
To distort  
That which hid behind, delved beneath,
Laughter heard, insanities last gasp,
That clown of a thousand smiles,
Which one would you see as his flowers
Pollen greats your senses, a last breath
He chuckles,
He giggles,
He sheds a tear
So many have fallen, smudged is the white,
Bleeding black beneath white clouded skin.
He has tricks of the trade,
Balloons he blows up,
"Make something"
So he twists and turns
Rubber squeaks, form to air surrounds
"A balloon gun"
As he laughs his soon to be last,
Can you say "BANG"
"Bang"
As he points his balloon as the gentlemen laughs
Can you say "POP"
With an exhale of word,
A head does "POP"
Bits of red rubber covers the crowd,
"Any one want to see another trick"
He laughs out his insane laugh,
Who laughing now people as he lets out his deranged  *laugh.
Scary  clowns... don't **** them off
Vikram sikki Jul 2016
Like 5 or 6 ...was i ....doesn't matter
but little,a small one for sure
Sure of that not because i remember seeing myself in mirror
But everyone else was so huge
Their palms big enough to be afraid of
Most of the world was above us
To amaze or annoy us
Can only be reached by our little eyes
Transfixed a little more than now
Ogling , making sense and befitting it in our own world of limited understanding
But few things were there
Seemed Precisely sized up for us
As if Toyed down for me and
those friends-as big as me
Never had to look up above or below
Right in level casting our surprised eyes on each other smiling through the eyes first in approval and acceptance; that tacit truce
As if we've found refuge in each other
in that big world


They made order with us -chaos (filled minds) and confused, wondering mostly
What suddenly happened; what and why I m doing it and
How far (in distance and time) is the home.
My home.
The school became "My" school to in few days

All of us dressed same, loaded with our loaded bags
Fobbed off to school in the morning
In a different world.  Our world
With more of us there
Used to stand in same row at the morning
Prayer/assembly,
height wise.....was it ?
Pushing on toes to peek over each others over those glistening oiled and then combed hairs
stacked primly to stay there for some time

Puffy reddening cheeks due to .... always smiling ....was it ?
A little henkey in left pocket always,
seldom used though
Dressed immaculately in halves
Those action shoes......was it ?
Singing prayer in unison
Eyes closed but stealing glances
Opening an eye,tilting head
And enjoying the moment secretively
Glorifying in the maneaouvre just accomplished
Sometimes yawning and snapping it back to that plumbed, more ***** posture
Thinking that too went unnoticed...Did it?
Standing through all that rut daily
That "aaj ka vichar"(today's quote)twice
A poem also ..... was it?
Finally the "jan gana mana"( national anthem)
Pressing the fists hard sidewards
pulling them down
***** and loud
In oblivion,in spirit
Head shaking in rhythm unknowingly
At every other syllable
And yeah
At last but not the least
That "bharat mata ki jai"(hail India slogan)
Loud and from heart
As if waiting for it all the time
Thrice.....was it ?
Racing to the classroom
in an unannounced competition
and extol the victors briefly.
Legs hanging from those little chairs ....
No, benches ......was it ?
Few already waiting for the teacher
Looking through the wall outside the door
Quietly
Few making the most of it
Sharing some secret laugh,loudly at the end
Showing some prized possession acquired yesterday
Rejoicing the
Silent faces in awe of that thing.
That thing ....seasonal it used to be
tattoo stacks,card stacks -wwf and cricket too
Or a geometry box....was it ?
Nodding approvingly and decidedly to that thing with conviction promising self to get something better if more of that thing only.
Not on their seats
Relying on that good samaritan
Positioned perfectly in front row
to detect the incoming teacher and a loud shussshhhhh......was it ?
Rushing to ones seat
In sonic speeds before teacher enters
Hopping and throwing oneself - thuds!!
That momentary Commotion before the muteness
Head held high,supressing a giggle
Proud of the last act
And together saying...
No, almost singing

Goooooood morningggggggg maeeammmmm
Or sir.....was it ???
We were kids once !!
Nigel Obiya Jul 2010
How many people saw an apple drop before Newton?
And probably named it something else...
Like "blaaaah"?
Who came up with the idea of wishing upon a shooting star?
Another man
Another scar
Forever visible, on the skin of an independant thinker?
Man made idieologies, either complimenting
Or supressing personalities
Do not let education ruin your originality
Do not
Be ****** into mob psychology
Like dogs
Pick that which is beneficial to you
To the rest
Yes, be skeptic
Not everything they teach is true
An education is one of the most important things a man can do
I mean 'can get'
See? Right there? I messed with you
And turned a fact into a much more ineresting read
I owe that to being educated
Also to the fact that I think out of the box
These words, I don't 'write'
I 'feel', I 'bleed'
Education is overrated, and at the same time underappreciated
Makes no sense?
Indeed
It's not supposed to
I'm just saying that I'm not opposed to
The idea of learning something new
As long as it is something you want to do
Or something beneficial to you
At the same time, not everything they tell you is true
Self education is more of what I do
These days
Change these ways, the system put in place
Stay intelligent
Mind's independantly placed
Knowledge, creativity, confidence... straight face
I call it 'streetelligent'.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.
Atypnoc Jan 2015
it's nice to know it's not for naught
there's value in what can't be bought
where my plans convene with thought
i invest different kind of plot

honeycomb are to the bees
as madness is to mysteries
and are polite priorities
nectar of insecurities?

the recounted sheep are bleating/(bleeding)
cry of wolf to deaf misleading
as i bray again repeating
every note so self-defeating

thrown about the limbs of trees
chaos with-in-discrepancies
that which we melt just to freeze
wring tangles such as these

my journey is while they sleep
shepherdess lost counted sheep
the edge, again, to fall or leap
for flight first failure grade so steep

My white whale wild in the seas
This ship no sail, nor north agrees
Ever-spurning taste of tease
I am ahabs intricacies

to illusion am i ******
eternally roaming the land
through burning thirst for empathy
-i'm plagued with insecurity

in an old biblical story
mortal glimpsed our father's glory
From that instant's blinding light
was driven mad took his own sight

if i could measure and define
truth and where it draws the line
which cliff faces only mine
encases truly, i am fine

chronic illness violently
supressing luminocity
onlookers hang silently
as ash consume ferocity

speed builds on tracks in my train
I know this is too fast, again
upon myself, 'you dare complain,
without reference to real pain?'
all avert their eyes, refrain
saying nothing is my bane
am i alone and insane?
this focus that i can't explain?
creating reason for my pain
purpose for and by diseased brain
Nobody ever wrote a guidebook for me to read
I'm the blue in the red world 
They hate what they don't understand
They criticize what they don't understand 
Give me a cue, doctor blue
The reds seem like a supressing fed
There's an aching in my bones for where that feeling they call home used to be but now it's only in my dreams.
My emotions keeps grinding away at my soul, telling me where to go and who to be.
But that's not me and this dream isn't my reality.
As far fetched as my hopes may seem to be, to me they are the reality supressing these nightmares that everyone else calls dreams.

Keep hoping for a new tomorrow to change my ways, but the days drag on, always the same.
Not knowing where the truth lies, disguised as a ride that takes you high enough to never feel it when the lie dies.
Staring pain in the face, wasting days swept under a carpet of disgrace, eyes staring back screaming with disdain.
Forgetting myself more with every breath, failing every test and silently waiting for death.
Why does it have to be so hard, it’s not fair.
It’s never fair and it doesn’t ever seem to go away.
It shouldn’t matter though because it’s only me.
It’s probably my fault somehow.
I don’t know how many more thoughts of reconciliation I can take before it breaks me completely.
I swear that I believe in strong families,
But I’m doubting that I can make mine that – church girl or not
Which I am not so much anymore.
If I walk away I’d feel that I’m missing out due to my own faults.
I tell myself they’re hers and are what is driving me away,
But it hurts to turn away for too long.
I live with sour pains and expressions,
Sometimes they turn to pity and I want to stand up
For her. Her actions knock me down again,
I remain left in the hurt.
It seems as if I’m struggling to dig my way out of the ground,
Trapped and my thoughts and feelings in submission, supressing.
If I can’t let go but I can’t hold onto what I never really had,
Then what’s next?
My bed is covered in dust because my head is still the same
And the girl that I was: broken still.

I feel a heavy weight burdening me
****** upon me by you, the one who should be lifting me up.
I’m tangled in steel spider webs that I think I want to leave,
But when I get the chance I change my mind due to fearing that it’s the wrong choice.
How did you manage to involve me so much while pushing me aside?
Right now I want to laugh although logically I should cry.
Because that’s what you’ve done to me;
You made sure your mentalism rubbed off on me,
Also making me think you’ll catch me when I fall even though you pushed me.
I keep pulling away from you and it seems like what you want,
But somehow (weather you mean to or not) you drag me to the starting line.
It’s a race that never ends and with no intention of a prize.
With you, my own mother,
I’m left running in circles around myself with tears filling my eyes.
Still you have done nothing to make me feel this way,
Although psychologically it’s as if you’ve done everything to make me stray.
And so I’m shattered down the middle while you’re still provokingly tapping on the glass.
It’s like the air always seems to be thickening now
Making it hard to breathe,
Because I am trying to guess your next destructive move.

I am stuck between being too scared to move,
And too scared to stay but probably just scared to lose the pain.
Stupid I know but so is all that she is and I might be just the same.
Breaking whatever’s in reach as I step a path I do not know
Or know too well.
The solid pain I feel inside is ever capable of echoing,
Like it never loses its meaning.
Ariel Baptista Jan 2017
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour
Looking for notes, criticism, anything really! Thanks **

— The End —