"tarring" poems
Closeted. Red.
Corrupt. Abrupt.
Jarring & Tarring.
Obsession. Infatuation.
Sweet confrontation.
Voiced. Unvoiced.
Heat. Discreet.
Prohibited discovery.
Trespassed precinct.
Animal instinct.
Sinful rust.
A burst of Lust.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
I said I’m foretold to be the truth.
Swear an oath, but it didn’t bare any roots.
At any given moment one could lose his youth. Don’t know who he is cause he wears another mans boots.
Walking irritations, bearing all the earnings of their fruits.
Limits are escalating and I’m tarring down the roof.
A Course to deviation, unable to see any other routes .
Blind to temptations.
The struggle fits me like a suit.
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
Time is deteriorating, everyday life of a destitute.
Waters are evaporating and I’m thirsty for whatever’s absolute.
Problems eternally materializing, full of sorrow and solitude.
Emptiness continuously multiplying, like a disease it pollutes.
Visions are tremendously horrifying, wishing to **** the sound and become a mute.
The story’s are ultimately glorifying, ghoulish torment and Chaos to distribute.
Nothing but hesitation.
Loneliness overtaking, going through all these hoops.
Screams are instantly mesmerizing, the ending is what They Pursue.
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 2:32 AM UTC
I saw five blackbirds perched on a telephone wire at six am
They were black as the blackest of nights and as big as Caterpillars
They were looking down on cars taped over with blowing plastic bags
Floating in the hot pink wind like tornadoes made from lipstick
Their talons were long daggers looking to pierce the deepest part of my heart
To open my eyes with their meandering meaningful meaningless
They had shipwrecks adorning each obsidian feather and crooked teeth
Capped the nightmares that lurked behind the glare of their eyes
They watched solemnly at the scene below of closing doors
Of rustling papers and stained tears tarring the summer ground
They had secrets cawed in a language of screeched whispers
Warning and educating ears that were too deaf or too self involved to listen
We’ve got no chance to escape this drudgery of modernity
We’re stuck in this self-built prison of black and white prisms
Of three dimensional reasoning and the attitude that follows
Never meant to be but it’s what it is when we think we’re free
How can the one blind bird perceive things differently
If our shortsighted near-death experiences have left us numb
Numbing us to the presence of the stars in the morning sky
Or the Sun exploding torrents of fire during the night
Wrapping us in a chilly warmth like blankets soaked with gasoline
We've left ourselves to wander the desolate land thinking of the obscene
I saw five blackbirds blacking out the sun as they took to the sky
Laughing their murderous laugh at the awkward bipeds down below
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
Have you seen my ring?
Its old now, and worn out
Its seen fights, and tears
Through the years, through every outcome
It sat right between my pinky and my thumb
Not the finger I used to point out what was going wrong
Or the one I used to say "I never loved you either"
It was on the next one, over.
I wore it proudly, it brought me a sense of worth
Now that its missing i'll move heaven and earth to find it
My hand is confused
That finger forever internally bruised
From the force of losing it so quickly
It thickly layered scarring on my heart
It is tarring me apart
I would give anything to find my missing ring
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Another piece of wood stabbed in my heart
Another sharp pain
Tarring me apart
Another piece wedge to deep
Another nightmare when I go to sleep
Another obstacle to keep me together
Another piece of wood, just another splinter
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 6:32 AM UTC
Is it possible to be a self within a self?
When we whisper the over-used notion, "I would never do that."
Is that merely the hidden internal us responding in fear
in vulnerability
in sacredness, holding onto the hope
that no, we would never do that?
I would never flee down coast line to coast line
abandoning all
recklessly
I would never own a worthy
boyish love
holding it ransom,
giving not even a speck of pink back
selfishly
I would never cloud ridicule
over the individuals that love me and wreak grey
havoc on their hearts
so haughtily
I would never obsess over material
adornment and superficial success
vapidly
Hoping to control others with one look, one unreachable charm
I would never look like a Barbie doll queen
Platinum blonde hair
Golden olive skin
Perfect figure
what a cliché
what a ******* conformist
I would never lick up liquor like a dogged lush
tarring the black of the night
so pathetic
I would never weep in the shower
because of the way someone loved me too much
I would never have a disgusting want to be left lonely
So degrading
I would never let the world turn me
I would never.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
I confess.
I yearned for your attention.
My whole body ached for a tiny bit of recognition that you new I was there.
But your eyes were on hers.
And I was being greedy and cared about my own happiness more than yours.
At that moment all I wanted was for you to feel the pain that was tarring me apart inside.
I couldn't see then that all the pain you had caused me I had brought upon myself.
But i couldn't brush all the anger off.
So i used the only drug i knew that would make them disappear for at least a moment.
So then I ****** all my feelings away.
Every ****** every whimper, pushed all the anger out.
But ******* the feelings away only made the memories stick deeper.
So there I was sitting side by side with all my unwanted feelings.
Not knowing where to go or turn but straight.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
My laughter bounced off the walls,
To thick but to thin at the same time,
Allowing my laughter to be heard at times.
The laughter resides in my heart,
Making everything seem ‘normal’,
Though I do not know if these broken pieces on the floor are ‘normal.’
Everything is spinning; as I dance around and down these empty halls,
With madness running threw my veins,
Everything seems to be hollow even this laughter.
I can’t seem to find my mouth able to form words,
My throat can only allow this laughter float up and out.
These walls have been through thick and thin,
And I am quite surprised they haven’t tumbled down of yet,
Because clearly those cracks are quite scarring and would shatter any perfection;
Wounds and bruises are painted on the walls but they still stand.
I slam myself against the walls,
Wishing to scream out in agony and pure hatred,
But all that bubbles out is this maddened laughter.
Revenge, oh how sweet it sounds,
Even though it is the thing that is tarring me apart, making it into something bittersweet instead.
This thirst is much worse then this cursed sound,
It’s the worst, making me go into a wild outburst.
Laughter after laughter, nothing else,
Not even a single breath of utter displeasure,
Witch I clearly feel building up within my heart.
These walls should have ears,
After all the entire entity should shake in fear,
Every time they hear the madden laughter reopen within my heavy chest,
And flutter out of my numb lips.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
Tarring roads with lungs,
Old smokers, living ashtrays,
Suicidal inhale.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
Here I lay
Tears forming in my eyes.
Here I lay
Not wanting to go another day.
I wanna give this life up.
It hates me
Just as I hate it.
it is eating me
It is tarring my insides up.
Just like you
How you broke my heart.
Here I lay,
Wondering what's gonna happen now that I don't have u
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
Too many cigarettes
Burning out my lungs
And I'm drifting
In chemicals of smoke
Inhaling
Exhaling
Feeling like Death creeping
As ashes wither
Between my fingertips
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC
You said I reminded you of music.
I know music is one of your favourite things.
The pressure.
You'd wake me with kisses & caress my skin.
But what happens when your fingertips come across my imperfections.
The shame.
You say I'm more than you could ever ask for.
But what happens when I tell you there is more.
The guilt.
You have your addictions, like we are with tarring our lungs. What if you found that I do it because it slowly kills me.
The irony.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
Did you tare up that note? I will never know if you did but I know that I did.
As I re-read my poem The Note I noticed that I still feel the same. I still feel unwanted, ugly, stuipd, fat. And I see that I have started cutting again.
The Aftermath is hard. Your parents now turn into siblings, your siblings now turn into family, and your family turns into the internet.
"I can't do this anymore!" You keep thinking everytime you look at the aftermath. The aftermath of tarring up that note.
Everyone now knows that you are Depressed, restless, and have lot of Moodiness. Everyone sees you struggling and they want to help.
Truth is they don't know how to help. They don't understand what's next after the aftermath.
Your family starts talking in private. You listen threw your bedroom door and here things you and I should never have to hear.
Have you heard what I have heard?
Are we really all in this together? Or do we just hear that, read that, and think that. But then nothing happens.
I am here right now to tell you that the aftermath ***** Your mother threatens to drag you to the hospital into the Mental Ward.
You get told that your being insane. That your acting insane. So you look to people online. They comfort you and tell you to use a rubberband to help with the self harm.
Welp guess what your mother takes that from you too. You see, the You's, I's, and We's turn out to be just another word on your screen.
But it's true we can all do this. We can beat depression. I will never know what you chose. I don't know what I have chose. All I know if that even thou I wanna write another Note. A note no one should read nor write. I don't.
We can make it past the Aftermath. Just hold on a little longer. Yea,
The Aftermath *****
Oh well.. You can do it. I can do it. We can do it.
[Author] - I never thought that I would make another poem to go along with this one so I hope you enjoyed. All of this infromation from this poem and the first one is true in my mind. I hope you choose life. I know I have....At least for now.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 9:08 PM UTC
The sous-chef of the albinos says
I'm in charge of cooking, baking and roasting
and in this hell-stance my delusions rules the roost
I've got the Crème de la crème and arsenic in tincture
prepare the grills and flames for a banquet of homicidal delight
Get that deer, King of the forest and protector of all
heave that Buck down, none but I holds power in this domain
its times of discontent, green eyes and walking dead are hungry
from challis of Madam White Snake and the shroud of San Lucifer
a sacrifice, a sacrifice for cold hearts and all mothers of the spawns
The belly crawlers and spawns in Hades kitchen toil
to high jack the mind of this regal imposing stag unsurpassed
hounded, mud-spattered, neither the raging winds nor savage beasts
snares and putrid guile's, poisoned mindless and shameless tarring
the buck bedded in Mother Nature in solace true and enduring light
So the sous-chef of the witless albinos says, no matter...
lets get a clone of that regal buck, sharpen knives and slice away
pepper, season hung, drawn, quartered, boil and simmer all the way
go tell tales of our magnificent menu, that stag is ours, for the eating
a merry feast for you all, pieces of eight for the dead deer's chest, ahoy, ahoy, ahoy.....!!
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC