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CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Talk to me,
I haven't heard your voice enough
For it to taunt me.

Talk to me,
Your silence is the only song
That comes to haunt me.
CK Baker Oct 2017
they’re pouring out of the
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a cold london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of the phantom abyss
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Memories crying, screaming to be heard.
Try as I might to bury these amidst busy days,
still they rise from the backyard of my mind haunting my dreams,
making youth a nightmarish memory.

Empty rooms cry out in agonizing silence.
White ghosts float on lifeless bodies with the same question; why?
Anxious moments still taunt just beyond of safety.
The sickness that gave birth to this still clouds the mind.  

So long ago, a lifetime to make peace, still lucid moments of torment
making March an anniversary dirge.
It makes no sense to cry for those gone, for mortals spent in tragedy,
yet every year I try to understand once again, why?
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
dissociation a curse
dissociation my enemy
enemy barges in
enemy takes control
control is crippling
control must go
go seek advise
go to friends
friends may ignore
friends may listen
listen to god
listen to nothing
nothing is something
nothing is numbing
numbing craves alcohol
numbing craves drugs
drugs are prescribed  
drugs will fix
fix my brain
fix cracked mirrors
mirrors taunt me
mirrors tell lies
lies i tell
lies cover bruise
bruise my hand
bruise my brother
brother is silent
brother please forgive
forgive me father
forgive me mother
father please help
father is futile
futile defines me
futile invites suicide
suicide with pills
suicide i survived
survived from coma
survived in hospital
hospital is helpful
hospital gives answers
answers for family
answers to problems
problems with doctors
problems with diagnosis
diagnosis is discovered
diagnosis is depersonalization
depersonalization creates poet
depresonalization becomes mad

Thanks L.D. Goodwin for introducing me to the Blitz poem!

  The "official" rules are as follows (taken from Robert Lee Brewer of Writer's Digest):

•Line 1 should be one short phrase or image (like “build a boat”)
•Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1 (something like “build a house”)
•Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words (so Line 3 might be “house for sale” and Line 4 might be “house for rent”)
•Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines
•Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48
•Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47
•The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3)(preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47)
•There should be no punctuation
Lizzy Jul 2014
Dancing and twirling
Devilish thoughts
They taunt
They sing
And laugh an eerie song

I know every word
Every down beat and note
I sing a long every day

Catchy tunes
They get stuck in your head
Even when there is no physical sound
It repeats
And repeats
On and on

Like a chanting spell
Like a screaming cry
This suicide song
It won't let me die
ryn Feb 2015
Stuck at this game,
In what seemed like forever.
Stuck at a stage where...
Experience points don't matter.

A game set in an expansive universe,
Rife with problems that arise to haunt.
You can't pass and can't concede defeat.
Troubles' only function is to mock and taunt.

I've chafed my thumbs raw...
Manipulating the knobs on my controller.
My mind is a mess...
In search of a happily ever after.

Puzzled by puzzles,
There are no cheat codes...
Can't blast my way through,
There are no god modes...

Neither are there any hints,
Nor is there a walkthrough...
I'm just running in perpetual circles,
In this game of me and you.
Caio Consoli Apr 2018
When life Ends;
It comes Along;
He and his Friends;
Waited for so Long;
The end is Near;
In the Night;
Fell the Fear;
Try to Fight;
They are Here;
There's no Escape;
And you're Mere;
Just an Ape;
He is Nature;
Honorably Unstoppable;
And to Capture;
You're not Knowlegeable;
Life isn't Fair;
You'll Lose;
And in Despair;
We shall Choose;


He's Sneaky;
Death's Calm ;
Also Tricky;
On his Palm;
Just Surrender;
Do not Taunt;
With no Gender;
It will Haunt;
What have you Done?;
It passed By;
You had just One;
Oh My...
You won't Rest;
Death's Endless;
In this Nest;
Of Greatness;
For the Reaper;
You'll Fall;
Be a Sleeper;
That's all.
The one, The only
ok okay Jul 2018
Those 'little lies’ you tell me
Always come back to haunt me
You think not more but for yourself
And pretend that you adore me
Through manipulation
You create my frustration and make me feel lonely

You taunt me with your 'little lies’
And use me like an object
You pull me close when you're feeling sad
But don't catch me when I'm falling
You tell me that we're the best of friends
Yet you leave me when I'm hurting

Your 'little lies’ always end in tears
Just admit that you don't love me
hey guys, enjoyed making this :)
Carter Ginter Dec 2014
The pills taunt me from beside my bed
as I lay here, tortured within by each
painful heartbeat burning within my
chest and weighting my back to the lumped brick
of springs and polyester fiber.
Those blue beauties sleeping silently in their
sun fire home, why can't I sleep too?

One, two, five, ten, my throat counts
my way to freedom
Ironic, how we all have different definitions of
salvation. I adopted these babies to
"save myself," so the doctors think

Tonight it's Judgement Day.
This is super ****** up and probably terribly written. These anti depressants are affecting my ability to write.
Alysia Marie Dec 2018
I’m sick
And I’m tired
I’m eating my words
As they dance on my tongue
Making me squirm as they turn
Oh I’m biting
I’m chewing
Simply swallowing my pride
For I can’t say how I feel
No matter how hard I’ve tried
For they pin me
They ***** me
Puncturing my mind
As I sit here and silence
Muted like a mime
I can’t say it
I fear it
The version that you’ll see
If I emit all of these feelings
My caged memories
For they haunt me
They taunt me
Like a stained porcelain tub
You can’t rid it of residue
No matter how hard you scrub
That’s my mind
They’re my eyes
Tinted a light shade of blue
As eroded as these beaches
I’m drowning from you
Your fingers
They’ve grabbed me
Now bruising my soul
How can one escape from your grasp-
I just long to feel whole
For it was physical
Now emotional
Unsure which one is worse
See these flashbacks you’ve gifted me
Were your most vicious curse

                               Alysia Marie 2018 ©
Perhaps one day these flashbacks will subside
Perhaps one day it’ll all end.
bekka walker Sep 2014
I'm tired of relentlessly digging up my own guts.
Insides wrenching until I feel something close to empty.
Sometimes empty seems so loud.
To escape the confines of my hollow silence,
I plead with my whirlwinds to redirect my madness.
Madness strung hand in hand with the outlawed 40,
and over rowdy yuppies that are too old to illegally sketch their rebellious spirits on ads that taunt them with their own insufficiency.
The sounds of smashing glass invite me to **** up my blackness into the midnight hours.
The smell of defacement summons me to heave my loneliness onto someone else's tangible reality.
But even in the electrifying twilight, I can't help but feel tired of digging up my own guts.
Natalie Sep 2018
you call yourself a hopeless romantic
because you've repeatedly failed at love
but you overlook the fact
that a hundred girls
are fantasizing about you this very instant

you're insecure about your looks
because you were bullied for it long ago
the memories taunt you, haunt you
yet you choose to ignore
how a hundred girls
drool at the sight of your chiseled physique

you think you're not good enough for love
that you won't find the perfect girl
you wont find perfection, that's a fact
but one day when you find the one
she will be perfect for you, and you for her
and the hundred girls will be sobbing,
hopelessly craving your love
to my hopeless romantic...
sad part is, i'm one of the hundred...
Tied  a string to Halleys comet in 1984
Tied a string to stars in 1987 while in Yosemite.
Tied a string to a black hole in 1993.
Pulled them taunt and
bent reality into personality and
now I have  a world with no oxygen to breathe
but I've trained Infinity.
Enigmatic Sep 10
Fear is the trap that confines all
Fear is holding hands with the grim reaper
It will haunt you to your grave
Taunt you in your dreams
Tie you back with the strongest rope there is and the hardest knot to escape from
Fear takes no time to find you
Takes no time to hypnotise you
Distorting your beliefs, questions are all that linger
Yes fear is strong but we go on
Lana Leandoer Oct 2016
round and round they go
intertwined in the heather sky
black bodies taunt and play
a thunder crack licks my lips
i stalk them with my eyes
narrow and tall it stands still
they rest upon it's frame
the sky, it mourns the loss of few
i'm not ready to die
but nothing is the same.
mer Sep 2018
There's this little thing who was born in the sewer
Her name, they all say, is Society
Pretends she's all that, but she's really nothing newer
They say she never once spoke the truth.

Society likes to pick in the brains of young girls
Likes to meanly whisper in their ears,
"You're fat, you're worthless, you're the ugliest there is!"
What good does that do? It brings them to tears.

Society likes to mess with the minds of young boys
Likes to torment them by teasing,
"You're skinny, you cry, you aren't manly enough!"
Society makes sure it sure isn't pleasing.

Society likes to mess with the minds of in-betweens or not-at-alls
Likes to belittle, judge, and taunt
"Why can't you be normal? No one likes you!"
It goes on and on. Society likes to daunt.

Society herself doesn't have a care in the world
She never thought once about anyone's feelings
All day she picks at everyone she can find
All night she waits for them to wake, on their ceilings.
Osiria Melody Aug 10
Our world is full of color
Yet, I'm monotone empty
Emotionally numb and lost
Trapped in my mind that's
been rerouting the labyrinth
of certainty, which yields
more dead-ends than escape
routes; why must agony, an
unremorseful beast taunt me?
Yet, I haven't succumbed to
death, which amazes me

Being emotionally resilient ain't easy, but please remember that you're not weak when you don't feel strong. It's okay to cry.
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