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Talia Jul 2018
please get out of my head
I beg of you
every second I think of you is agony
Remembering how perfect I thought you were
How you'd talk to me and soothe me
with those kind eyes of yours
I want to forget you
pretend we never met
purge all our memories together
please stop taunting me with your handsome face
please get out of my head
Ashleigh Black Apr 2014
She saw how the angry, greyish ocean
crashed upon the shore
with such fury and disgust
and couldn't help but compare it
to the endless nights where
she'd sit and stare at that
hateful, taunting piece of glass
with a reflection as grotesque
as the image of the waves
while they aimed to devour the coastline.
I don't feel pretty today. It happens.
O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon -
when will your warm arms bend again
the night's thick armor
that shades the world of joyous muse?
 
It is most facetious in its illusion,
that renegade of pale indifference,
when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine
than can be seen with naked eye.
 
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face,
people do not walk as done in light -
suddenly, trudging and stumbling are the hip style.
Faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue -
all the things Sun can wash away with a simple,
lucid grin.
 
If brightest light were set ablaze in midst of night,
would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary
which darkness so convincingly provides?
Then many a Lost could be freed;
if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
 
O blessed Sun!
With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise -
until again that blank stare casts its malevolent glow on
Delusion.
Prose from a street-lit bench.
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2017
main street underworld
belts hung with stolen halos
unwanted souls
and t-shirts taunting— PROPERTY OF HIM
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
#17
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2018
and

you think you are done with it.
but the notion potion returns with your stolen free will
taunting and tearing, sealing and then dissolving
the seals

no retirement in this world from where human means pliable
and pliable means capable of being twisted; nay, retwisted...

last we left you,
we were weeping on the concrete sidewalk of
Third Avenue, the police, giving you a move on command,
as Jean Valjean earworms one into the incapacity of movement  because of the audacity to request to bring him home

such is the sorrow of the lost child; it comes with irregularity
yet, never failing to return, the child lost, the residual, resides
within like a violin adagio reaching the punishing silence
after a crescendo that  pretense promised momentary relief

we struggle to keep any and all keepsakes,
polished and fed; rust and time, no polish in the five & time dime
that does a good enough job,
but you buy it anyway

well aware that fate will inevitably rob you, it’s so purposed

twist you, retest you and re-will you, to never forget until
you have no need for forgetting but the peace of
constant remembering when all on that day
molecules and nucleotides
collide in the atmosphere,
dog licking, cat weeping purrs, meaning hallelujah home

the endless sadness of the lost lad-ness, dimly grow the recollections of the first word, the first delight, the confidence complete
that your babe is non pareil; the violin sweeps you along and the genteel tide still too string strong to resist

the woman comes into the room;
the reddened eyes no hide
the weeping outside and in the centerpiece of a soul;
why she asks, not surprised for she’s seen it
too many **** poem-times:
my Adam, I answer;
suffices and wisely
leaves me to
compose and decompose simultaneously
weeping weeping forever weeping even when not

furious eddies rock smashing,
curious they splash me with taunts
"you want for naught!"

but naught is the only possess
that owing it makes one impoverished

perhaps he will email me, ewail me,
does he know I am at the
Wailing Wall, Jerusalem,
insert parchment prayers for his safety

oh my Absalom, oh my Adam, my favorite first born,
come sit next to me on the sidewalk so close to where you live,
comfort me as in the days of your youth,
now that we are both
so very much older

sleep well all you lads and children,
never mind these unstoppable tearings,
never mind the heaviness,
for it has passed
as the tears shed
enlighten my embodiment

7/16/18 prone and alone
for my kinship
pitch black god8 Aug 2018
~a question of a thousand dreams~^

“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”

this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the  every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes

but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen

these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white

elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red  
but
certainly unmine,  
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers

heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,

but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted  

she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated

and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
perchance to dream

3:49 pm

see the notes!!


someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago

so here is my response to
“just saying”

congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules

“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“

http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
lyric  from “Carry On”
by Crosby Stills Nash and Young

which is why it is in quotation marks

but you knew that already

my god strikes me dead ic I ever plagiarized in my life; no splotches of apologies needed
karin naude Apr 2013
my mistress she calls to take her spot light again
last night she danced wild round the fire
taunting me with her well chosen lovers
dress that shimmers with each movement
flowing locks onto her *****
my so ****** mistress teases me mercilessly

at last the fire burned down
she turned to her quarters
lying on her bed
her body reflecting the moons soft light
she whispers sweet nothings in to me
pleasure fills me
my wife angered by this, does she know?
she was once my chosen love
still dripping of promise but cold and cruel as Siberia
she does not care for me, never have
refuses to release me
my mistress my only release from this wretched place
A presence
presenting
a continuous torment
torturing
incessantly
until, even with cessation
only a tenuous self
is present
leaving only the resin

The maniacal
manifestation
is an infestation
festering around in my head
Its existence,
a creation
created at inception,
hacking my brain
Forever a trap
creating a
maniac

Acrimonious
to all mankind
Not acting
like a man
Not one word
that's kind
Committing crimes
and getting oneself
committed
A deviation
creating a deviant
Shifted values
due to a devalued
self

An esoteric
essence
seemingly sentenced
on this journey
by judge and jury,
not by one's peers
because the many
not able
to peer
into this individuality
The duplicity
of duality
that is my reality

Challenging myself
to a dual
One in which
I both
win and lose
But in the end
not breaking even
or coming out ahead
Always ending
further back
instead

Its back breaking
and always aching
Pain from which
not capable of
faking
Effort I’m taking
Of myself making
Time for a new king
For kinsmanship
is aloof
And this man’s ship
has sailed away
Sipping a port
at a shipping port
And yet
slipping away

Deeper still
In the depth
of still water
Sinking
into the abyss
Lost and gone
But not missed
Is this the end
of our fable?
Or will our “hero”
enable himself
and in the end
be able
Deciding who to be?
Cain or Abel?
For the hurricane
is hurrying along
Its aim always the same
Constant pain
A payment he feels
for the displaced
placement
which just in case
is placed
same place
he went

Ink in the face
A disgrace
When suddenly
encased in his brain
are racing thoughts
of a plan
he’s ace’n

A label of insanity
given by those
who claim sanity
when the reality
is their thoughts are free
and optimize
a sanitized
and homogenized
batter
And in the end
it doesn’t matter

Offering suggestions
in which they
feel threatened
Pathways congested
and protested
Testing them
Even worse,
bested
A problem beset
upon them
Time to steady
the flock
Roll n’ Rock
Inoculations we’re getting
Start the injections

“It’s been an honor”
Mounting my Lipizzaner
A disarmer
A charmer
The armor
‘mi amor’
Leaving me
wanting more
But as they keep score
the task is daunting
A life that’s haunting
with such splendid decor
-
Yet, can’t take any more
Their taunting
is leaving me sore
So to the atmosphere
I open that door
and flying up above
I soar

Forever more
Feel pain no more...
Written: August 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
paige tenielle Sep 2018
why wont you let me move on?
is it because you dont want me to?
you dont want me to find happiness
with someone else?
or are you just plain sadistic,
forcing this pain on me?

every time i think i can breathe,
there you are again
with your hands around my neck
cutting off my oxygen supply
making me lightheaded.

every time i try to move,
i realize my arms and legs have been tied down
and there you stand
taunting me at the end of the bed.

why do you have to be so cruel to me?
its probably because you know i live for the pain.
not just a metaphor.
Panda Jan 4
October 10, 1999
I lost a baby.
Mine.

A tragic noxious night.
It’s presence forever taunting.

For it is clear as is one sight.
A part of me died that night.

As my placenta fell to the floor, you were with me...
No more.
Panda~
A poem for Alexander Christopher
Colin Tuckett Sep 2010
Mock not my indiscretions.
Much can come from errored choice.
lessons oft come by misdirection,
So give me not the taunting voice.

Ask me when I am older
If my dreams have proven true.
Perhaps by then shall I be bolder,
Humbled e'en, maybe grateful too.

Should I never reach that status
Hold me not with disrespect.
Ask instead how life would shape us
Were we all so circumspect.

Do love me please for what I am.
Hold me dear for all I give you.
I really do the best I can,
Judge me not on what I should do.
AE Wilson May 2014
The pitter-patter
(pitter-patter)
of the rain against my window
attempted to lull me to sleep,
but sleep
(pitter-patter)
pitter-pattered away.
Nature's mournful tears
waltzed down my window
and collected in pools of sorrow,
and every thought
in the back of my mind
was pulled forth for
reflection,
knocking me off the edge
of unconsciousness and into
the restless abyss that is
insomnia.
I tried counting sheep,
but they were all
nestled together -
in a bundle of
wool and dreams -
taunting me in their
slumber,
teasing me in
dormancy.
So I laid there
and thought,
and spoke to myself,
and dreamed
of a restful night.
Time is a river,
Memory is a fountain.
The liquid cascade
is an unending mountain.

Her ghost was with me then
in the ever-blue expanse,
A shivering empyrean
in relentless advance.
Taunting me with a world
ripe for escapism.

Should you resist
that fateful embrace,
Even when it calls out
your very name?
I think fate's
just a game.

There are times when I miss
that wonderful hell.
What was a fountain
is now a well.

Under shadows gaze I devise the coming days.
The music surfacing heralds the daze.

The existential is mine to warp as I see fit.

Into the shivering empyrean I plunge.
White fields anew,
What's done is done.

Forget not the heart
that sings this song,
Keep close in thought;
My mind was like this
long before you came along.

Sake replaces sorrow,
Both kinds.
You take what was borrowed,
Every time.
In hallowed shadows
I wait for the morrow,
I find the shade is warmer than sorrow.

Time is a river,
Memory is a fountain.
Which is better
To be adrift in?
Carter Ginter Oct 2014
Under the pillow, sleeping, dreaming of its certain fate,
My demons scream, they're drinking my sanity away from me. I need an escape.
The oasis of that reflective body, forcing me to witness who I'll never be. Giving me the images of everyone I have deceived and turned my back on.
But what catharsis
to finally release these pictures taunting me, as I dive through them into the deep.
So I can drown in this pain I can't control
Or tread through the water back to my sanctuary.
Carter Ginter Sep 2013
Sitting in silence
Waiting for sound.
You know it's promised
And soon will be found.
Either the vibration of a gun shot
Or that of my phone,
Will tell me the ending
Here (or not) alone.
The silence is taunting
Then an explosion breaks free
But it's only some fireworks;
Scared the **** out of me.
He is not lying
No, not this time
This could be his end
And mentally mine.
But I feel in my heart
All his hidden strength
I do my best to keep him living
But to what length?
I love him more than most,
That's my best friend
Please don't let him leave us
This isn't the end.
winter sakuras Feb 2017
Once I was a child who loved to dream
I wanted that happy ending for the little mermaid
and so I rid the damsel who stood in the way
and then I waited for the prince
to remember the mermaid and love her again,
but he never did,
and they both died sad and heartbroken.
Meanwhile, from my dungeon sprung the damsel
now transformed into a fully fledged witch
who howled with rage whenever love approached
always appearing as the ugly stepsisters
the evil stepmother, the evil queen
taunting me in my dreams every night
thanking me for spawning her into life.
just thinking like a young child again..
happy endings don't come true when you have to hurt someone else to make them happen
laura Oct 2018
Fridays, fridays, getting there
winds with their fulminations full forced
an array of a slow crawl and taunting sun
just want to go flex

glazing the mind, to downcast to longing
stepping over cracks on morning roads
past neighbor’s verandahs - filled with
sensory overloads
Matterhorn Dec 2018
He awoke.

His eyes opened slowly with a purposeful slowness; an action that for most people is the beginning of their life was, for him, a procrastination.

He arose.

The floor felt cold, unwelcoming as he stumbled reluctantly to the sink. The bristles rasped against his teeth, gums bleeding out of spite.

He entered.

Breakfast—a lonely egg, boring toast—entered his body; each bite was scooped with the utilitarian vigor of one who is no longer enchanted by food, yet the relationship must continue: a compulsory marriage without option for divorce. This discomfort washed down with lemon-water.

He contemplated.

Thoughts, those musings that are feared, condemned by most and yet became the greatest of comforts for him, reminded him that one day it all would end and he would be free.

He wasted.

He stretched out his hands, offering up his life force in the daily sacrifice to the eager god that, in return, lit up with the brightness of a thousand stars that blinded him from all that he wished not to see.

He showered.

Cold water ran down his soul, icing the most superficial inflammations while taunting the deepest wounds; no matter how long he remained behind the curtain, there would be no true respite.

He returned.

The blackness beckoned. He entered willingly, surrendering himself to the dark embrace of that demonic respite, his beloved above all others.

He died, once again.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2018
CK Baker May 2017
the rat ******* has been re-purposed
(conscripted in a somewhat fodder task)
brandishing irons
and quarter lines
coiled and unwavering
insidious and cunning
pent up and fired
in  his dripping shoes
and peel back skin

wheel bug and hookworm
are stolid in his wake
(all bursting grossly at the buckle)
the heel on task;
slithering and rogue
merciless and coy
resolute and contemptuous
with his cotton mat
and quick ready quill

pungi and clapper
raise the clever snake
(croker sacks and wicker backs
dot the gasoline rainbow)
carnival barkers and kraken
(lewd in the distance)
taunting and vile
with their red beakers
and deep purple hearts

cicada and louse
high on alert
(ready to wreak havoc in the hog wallows)
the perverse cornered rat
snapping and soiled
foaming and inflamed
lurking and primed
inside his carefully crafted plan

easels and cover alls
suit this jackal well
(keefer’s little helper or so they'd say)
pickers running rough shod
all stirring up the stench
***** and conkeys
poised
and ready
to lime this cornered slug
Carter Ginter Aug 2013
I can't take all these thoughts
And emotions running through my brain.
It's so much, too much
I think I'm going insane.
So I'll blast my head
With some music and stay,
I'll try to forget the world
And start slipping away.
Not a thing can make this any better for me.
Not a word could help, my heart's taunting me.
I'll just hang on for the ride
For the sun'll come again,
And the darkness will fade away
Along with most of my pain.
After a certain time at night all my depressive thoughts decide to come back and hit me hard. But I know if I make it through the night, I'll be fine in the morn.
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