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Julian Jul 2016
Fragile egg-shell mind on dawn’s highway bleeding the segue between times traversed only in momentary dreams or in enduring excursions

We drag our droll and quaint 60s baggage like the luggage of a safari made of concrete girding a cavernous expanse of unheralded ground

With our ears oriented to the floor, we leap out of body never to deplore….never to ignore….never to miss the blue bus of our drafted imaginations, so carefully culled from brash elitism

I trounce the intervening time between being friendless and an ironic end, and an irenic comrade becoming the dearest amazed but always aplomb friend

We simper in our glorious traversal, and though bedraggled through an ornamented cavern we linger just long enough to be celebrated

Then a blues riff emanates from a vapid bar, and finally someone heralds my exhumed memory still rusty with the pavement of encased concrete on an empty or full tomb

So I wander in my mind to that roughshod Paris glassy tincture a romanticized gild of proper sensibility crafted in the tongues of lizards emulating the tongues of serpentine Anglicans

As the power of love transcends the love of power, both are afforded serendipitously upon the stately occasion of a fitful revolt where heads literally rolled and deaths still unfurl from the slippage of a violent malevolent eternity, crafting a new creative way to expedite the smite of preventable scourge

So Jim, I see your picaresque side and your wide-eyed love for a listless ship anointed of a crystal blip just detectable long enough on RADAR to become the statistic to crack the slim WHIP

No wigs are needed at this formality, no figs grow from trees forty-five years buried and almost a full month unsung

Pitiable cretins of an invented insanity, they scoff at my ravenous and portentous heart for its excess and for aligning with an upstart verging on only a specious insanity

Why in all humanity could a month be mustered with every defense of history and yet for it to be so widely flouted as a risible exercise in futility

The irony that the artistic glamor of a past vogue becoming a revival that is often toked only to one song but never to the memorial of great cavernous and commodious imaginations, staggers with dismay where otherwise the mayday would be a disaster but still a great day

Then I look at a triggered-fingered omen of a death so ominous yet so brazenly confronted as the ambassadors of time provide plaudits to a fearless martyrdom

Why such a sad spate, why such a stringent but malevolent fate a malediction on a family whose crest is not crestfallen like rolling waves but ornamented with gravity impounding its own weight

A fugacious tomb, an eternal flame, a swan song announcing an independent authority on a prescient demise mashed and deprived

A single shot rippling through the broadened space between clasped eternity and a histrionic disgrace as a psychological confederate pays lip service to a reiterative applause

A cousin hardly American in a defected record of incendiary plumes of a hoarse hatred of waxen discs and flying discs alike,  climbs out of a bonfire mounted purely out of vindictive spite

Then upon a great white buffalo a wrapped package of Californian love before California ever alighted like something beyond an avaricious dove, saw a rocky park and a hearth of illuminated darkness the singular spark

Captain Morgan knows the jackknife applause of a botched deal morphing into a disbelieved spiel. A shibboleth of enormous mystical weight crashing down from an ethereal abode and heaven heavily saddened cannot hardly appeal

Then a loving spoonful of crystal blue persuasion led me to Ethel’s regimented keepsake and for once in my life nobility and I became a grateful waif. But temerity laughed, splintered spacecraft, and the wooden paws of a bearish applause led to resurgent clarity

Blinking stars shattered by knighted and raw applause punctured the liberated might of a sentient hortatory savior grasped by the internecine wrench of a waxen time

An indie track slides by unnoticed in an aleatory time, and the threadbare whine of centuries of lament becomes a dastardly barn set ablaze with the fury of ancients and the scurry of faineant patents

Perfidy slides in recess, and in gentle forbearance the winged angel lingers like a halo on conifer and spring above a remedial ring

I dial frisky celerity tingling the dangling claws of a raven’s screed and in plunder of all history’s pilfer secrets I eagerly weave a tapestry Indiana Jones himself would be proud to watch

Not the riotous ruin of a mystery tour of verdure crippled by genocide but overcome by the revived life of raised rain razing the moments of indelible pain

But the culmination of a proffered time taken at its word for its every careened bird, for its every brazen gird. The manger of proctored stars calls us home tonight and home forever. Life in quaked timorous stumbles suddenly no longer so fitfully absurd.

The quixotic plundered of pirates and emperors in direct emulation of some crooned pastiche of whittled integrity, surges above any encased blurb and any vain testament to a pyramid rigid in destiny and ragged in desultory and sturdy sincerity

Multiplying the ineffable by the division of arable divorced from edible is too creative to be eaten as pabulum when sparks curdle flickered moonlight crimson and that become golden only to the last laugh of ennobled ragamuffins

Frankly the desert of melliferous gorillas abetting the lark of a heavily vetted camarilla engaged in the sinecure of a rigged wall on a main street to block the tall from the lame bleat. Stocks grazed, costs engaged on a littoral beach at the end of a Bossy promenade

This prayer is a cutthroat collapse of a merry spare, a ribbed ****** waiting to plunge into the antithesis of female despair, but sincere in its restraint that vixens courted in love aren’t courted in litigation of a wagered dare

Ambulances chase Deloreans through the desolate moon-stricken skies of a time agape with fleets of phantasmagoria on a Cliffside too wise to ever mince words or excise cries

Skulking the red-teared caverns of entombed films and lampooned tinctures on a passion vetted only for certain and utter deracinated disguise, I wallop with winged men in a single soul armed to the teeth with inveterate tithes to eternal internments of poached and endangered gazettes

As growth older in wizened skin bets on epithets rather than epitaphs for rinsed peace and triumphant clefts we leap above in orbit of only the bellowing nether of blown tolls and untold souls aggregating the esoteric grasp of Alexandrian tomes

The denumeration of certainty is a carousel of wonder, a splurge of time ripped asunder with majesties of paparazzi scuttled impacts a throttled iniquity of regalia’s indicted blunder frenchified but still clean with inestimable sheens

With twenty-five dollars, a dime an assist and a nickeled reiteration of currency already so personable it is divine and sublime in crazed desist I watch the embroiled natives clash in denatured violence with the warriors of a crossed repast hearkening to an old land much of ire but too much of grandstand to ultimately last

Itching for a holy field husk of peerless ties listed as rumpus and beer, a two-packed smoked by bludgeoned blokes careless in irascible sputters of a muffled doom, a Vegan becomes the author of too many sacrosanct homilies becoming defiled witchcraft brooms dead on arrival too many lionized tombs

In plaudits and the scause of an amplified “what if?” of an olfactory nightmare of petrified fog of effluvium bogged in Wade and in heat it is always clogged, sinewy libations of toasted preemptive revenge become a powerballed hog

A castle in the sky founded on Franklin but scourged of wineskins brimming with a distilled time, a swift repartee becomes the whispered ladder of saints blather becoming not rather other than a Dan Rather spatter

A door breeched by a broached inconvenience of amphigory beyond common reach, I clamber excess and whisk the lingered love into destiny beyond any word other than a beseeched preach of nothing tired but everything inspired of noble love with abundance often to teach

Fireworks of turned tides of fallow tithes to aliens beyond any conceivable bribe the bushwhacker writhes but survives staying alive without even a hint of garbled jive a 27th floor glass elevator is quite a resplendent ride

Wellsprings knowing radical rolled tides of errant dice also themselves guilty of confessional tithes to the monolith of avarice at the nooked cranny of an evaporated time we whine as the police sting the album rained with songs too lugubrious to sing but in their elegy every lonely heart has a propinquity phone of souled resonance ring

Iterative mastery of a mathematics of love, loss decay and the dross of a dental Occidental floss, the sweep of screened queues become questions of inestimable importance to foreign dues on a horse with no name but so consumed with fumes

A fright occultist thriller prowls in a waylaying daylight, masquerading an innocent confection for a rescued triage of a dawn stabbed with knives in our last dying days of trembled plight

He resurrects only the wraiths of detest, squinted at by the putrefaction of summoned cardiac arrest and littered with bullets that somehow can penetrate even impregnable bullet proof vests the wrapped carcass of the mummified husk of ready despair offers itself a ghoulish and raspy prayer

Synchronized in a low roaring swathe of rollercoasters too immersive to ride, the terpsichorean obscurantism of deliberately shattered fragments becoming blurbs dismissed with hijacked deride the carnival of a summer sun becomes the ocean of limitless love becoming endless fun

We forget the drawl of the droll old tales that haunt like specters in the closet and beneath the bedridden valetudinarian of an effrontery of shackled fright, we sprawl the innumerable caverns of prophetic insight afforded by the pantheon of history enter stage left, depart stage right

And with their insight I write and write, I grasp the tusk of democracy and wage an insurrection against the doubt of plodding limitations in otherwise immaculate sight

*** and tyrannosaurus rex, of litigable offenses leading to pardonable arrests, the gated entryway of a poetic splurge leads to the demiurge of a demotic enlightenment and suddenly the frank becomes the frazzled retirement and that haunting hounding bunny transmogrified by a shattered eye averts the car crash that careens ponderous engines out of limitless twilight blue skies.

Diamond lightning in pristine skies escorts the telegraphic totems of riddled modems from 1967 to 2016 and suddenly all venerable personages converge on a teeming scene of a union unified by a universal dream. To become everything and yet nothing and out of light and darkness to become a beatific beam
Mark Upright Aug 2018
The World Requires Edmund Black’s Random Acts of Doughnut Kindness (1/36)

Edmund!


a friend mutual on HP
sent me your poem below
asking me to respond appropriately,
close the tale, he said,
and that I would understand,
thinking by being marked,
I had some expertise in the matter

perhaps you are unaware that the world
exists only because there are at least thirty six^
righteous men on the earth and
personally believe,
there are more

who they are, a well kept secret,
but secrets tend to leak so...

only one,
Mr. Edmund,
employs a dozen doughnuts
(chocolate frosted)
to follow through
on the most important
commandment human
love thy neighbor
with a dozen holies

I’m told that like certain loaves of bread,
a dozen doughnuts
now have along with
wine and water
a place in the repertoire of the selector of the
thirty six

which needs noting,
a dozen
is 1/3 of thirty six

sometimes the answers are in the wholes of the holiest!


<•>
Edmund black
Jul 15

My Perfect Morning

The climate in the
World may change
But it will never
Change me
not for a moment
I truly have the most
amazing  life ,
Couldn’t be any better
I get up every morning
Next to  this gorgeous
amazing woman
Get my morning kiss
Maybe a few morning kisses
in my open mouth
If you get my drift
Cause you know I’m in love
Sit back in the back patio porch
Listening to Mother Nature’s  
Performance
while reading hellopoetry
Few minutes later
I told my lady  I had to
Go run  some errands
Not realizing yet
What’s up ahead,
Arrived and
While in line at Chrispy kreme’s
A little boy about 5 years of age
Loosing his mind over some
Chocolate frosted
Mother and father told him
They couldn’t afford it
They were only there for coffee
Little boy started
crying hysterically
My Heart Cries out for him
And chivalrously I’ve waited
in line right behind them
Just couldn’t allow
That to take place
I told dad if it was okay
I would love to buy the boy
a dozen chocolate frosted
He accepted and gave
me a hand shake
Mom teared up and dad
wouldn’t Stop thinking me
I hate seeing good
People like this
But anyway,
What an awesome moment
A moment of love sharing
And here’s the most
Amazing part of
my early morning outside
Of my morning kisses
I got the longest hug
From the little man
A handshake
From dad
And a kiss on the cheek
From mom
What can be any better
Than the life I live
I do what I want
And it’s mostly
Helping other people
That’s all that matters.
Having meanings in
Other people’s lives
Fulfills me ,
And what more
Can I say ,
My perfect
          Morning

I live life
For the inexplicable
Moment
Life is love and love
     Always gives
                    ALWAYS
^Mystical Hasidic Judaism as well as other segments of Judaism believe that there exist 36 righteous people whose role in life is to justify the purpose of humankind in the eyes of God. Jewish tradition holds that their identities are unknown to each other and that, if one of them comes to a realization of their true purpose, they would never admit it:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzadikim_Nistarim
zebra Jun 2016
she came to me one day
the *****
beautiful like a girls choir
singing Latina L'Amour
moving her bottom
like a metronome

her ******* a cascade of kindness
that break the hearts of men
they die
for those
blouse muffins
her smooth legs and feet
made for *** art
lickity splits and ****** contortions
while her wiggly *** and ****
tell you
what heaven would be like
hips that sway  traffic
causing pile ups
and fender benders
and make good boys
hopeful about being chosen
perhaps anointed
and judged worthy
but alas  
turn good boys into
chronic *******-rs
in dim midnight closets
or trawling *** criminals

at the very sight of her
my soul buckled
i wanted her
like darkness
needs a lantern
like blood
needs cells

she looked at me
with ****** in her eyes
it would make my **** wet to hurt you
she said with a soft tremor
ill **** yours for hours
tongue toy
losange
gullets prey
girl food

will you earn your suffering
adore my goddess ***
and lick it **** and span
kiss my beautiful feet
with tender devotion
pray for cruel ***** abuse
be consumed
by ******* jaws
thrill me
love me
flood me
with blood
and ****
die for me
my love

as i looked into
her hollowed
desperate soul
so eager
and felt deeply her need
and loved her to tears
to broken hearts mend

to struggle with
the dark angle
unrequited love
to expunge
years of vacant stares
of nameless women
and empty beds
to forget foreboding
bath cabinets bereft
of girly things
like
lolly pop pink lipstick
cherry sherbet nail polish
lacquered hardened coats  
aerated perfumed clouds
of vanilla candies
and fashionable
demonic party masks
over black brooding mascara
on almond eyes
hiding hot embers
cool and staring hungry

while wrenched obsessive
for the feminine
that drag my soul
through long coffin
hollow gullies
that drive me
to invocations
of Hecate
sacrificial blood rituals
voodoo trances
god forms
and black art astrologers
who have the power
to move planets
through space
and change fates

oh so wrong
yet i must
for loves sake
say yes to her
yes to her for pleasures sake
even if in the end
i am left to moan
to howl at a blood moon
with in the confines
of her dark edged
appetite
ascending in sin
as she ***** me
like she hates me

yes my beloved
to vanquish numbness

she consoles
my willingness  
excites
i felt her adoration

be brave for me
she murmured
sadists are cowards
teach me surrender
you are glorious
in my clutches

i made my self ready
positioned my self
as per her instructions
face down
legs apart
on a bed of nails
happy in my pit
as she played
a whole lotta love
by led zeppelin
blood swollen ****
oozy
for her tender kisses
and brutal schemes

the masochists tao

to denigrate oneself
to kiss your goddess feet
to lick your perfect ****
to adore your prim rose ****
to taste your lips of fire
to tangle in your silky locks
to see your eyes a blaze
to drink your saliva nectar
to eat your crumbs
to lick your *** clean
to be beaten
to your satisfaction
to drown in your *******
to hold you close
to take pleasure
in your cruelty
to suffer for your delight
to be
the sacrificial lamb
to be a victim
in an ****** dream
with jaws and teeth

she took me inside
smiled  like a feral
lust twisted child
took out a
scalped handled knife
brushed it across
my tummy and *****
terror brewed
excitement struck
my **** got so hard
she grinned
and salivated
like a Satanic Cheshire
in bloom

she devoured ***** warm butter
as it poured in waves
into her black lipsticked
pink wet mouth temple

oh she said
i like it a lot
do you mind a small incision
my darling

mommy needs
a little taste of hell

her face shape shifted
into a warbled shadow
as she licked her lips
and tickled
her *******
with gooed fingers

cut me i implore
im in the mood
you sweet savage

she opened me slow
o o o o ooow
ooh the sting
don't stop i begged
loving her
voluptuous greed
as she covered me
with heavens kisses
eyes desperate
devouring
drenched through ******
and bestowed
upon me
eager  licks
that swoon
and savage wounds

she took charge
with curvilinear cutlery
she gave it to me hard
oooofff
then good again
aaahhh
then deep and threw
like a spoon through Crisco
a surgeon from hell house
oh so fun she said
she licked my ****
fingered my ***
****** my *****
frenetic
then stuck me with a fork
giggling
not done yet she mused
and then
required of me
that my tongue
obediently pay homage
to her naked mouth ****

i was the pig for slaughter
needles and knives
burned *******
bruised ****
a bleeding torn
pin cushion
eyes teared
back arched
torso writhing
cherry cheeks
blood gusher
her *******
and belly ****
soaked in my blood
commanded me to lick
my own pools
of red plush
for her amusement

a couple at play
in Satan's temple of lust
her face turned to mischief
in a demons trance
her soul
like hyenas
and clawed weasels
all trapped villeins

im done ****** around
with you she quipped
her **** on fire
like a burning house
she plunged a blade deep in my gut
her eyes wide and glaring
like blazing head lights
possessed by hell bats

oh my goddess
for you
over the summit
as i shuddered
arching in torment
curling into a ball
squirming
like a severed worm

her face contorted
with horrors fun
her **** pored forth
tremulous quivers
and hells
brimstone gasms
ecstatic

oh she drank my blood
****** my ****
with kaleidoscopic tongue
like a devils bride banshee
licked my *** clean
filthy *****
defaced me with a drooling ****
and brooding ****
strangled me with nylons
until my lips ran numb
until my tongue dragged
like a corpse in a car wreck
she  whimpered and cooed
suffocated me with her **** ***

stepped on my face
with feet i adore
chewed off my *****
a black mambas kisses
filled my mouth
with hot rocks
that melted my skull
oh cry to heaven
wheres Jesus
as i scummed
up-leaping

the  last words
i ever heard
*** you sure to kick a lot
im cu cu cu cu cu cu *******
for you blood boy
dead dead dead
floppy floppy head
**** like cherry pie
kat Jun 2013
Another night without you,
morning come and you're gone.
Where are you,
in a world filled with hatred and war.
I hope you're somewhere safe,
somewhere much more inviting.

Children with their fathers,
hand in hand,
laughing until they can laugh no more.
And I sit alone,
quietly watching them with the fear
that I will never see my daddy again.

I've cried all my tears,
I haven't laughed for the whole year.
There's not a day I don't think about you,
or a day I don't miss you.

Maybe, someday,
we will meet again.
In an afterlife
with so much more joy than this one.

But I hope you'll recognize the broken girl I've become,
with scarred wrists and teared eyes.
I'm not the happy child I was when you left,
I'm something much darker.

It's not a happy Father's Day for the fatherless.
-k.k.
The Calm Jul 2016
This is America for Petes sake

Black lives don’t matter here

They say they’re being treated unfair

But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare

And we even pay for their health care

Poor black folk shouting black lives matter

But they don’t matter

The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter

Build a school or a jail?

In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail

Let’s not forget from whence we hail

We came from abroad to build this house

This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse

They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour

Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared

White people are only safe when white people are feared

When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared

The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow

Since then look how low our country did go

But at last at last now again we can make America great

Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free

Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me

When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee

When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be

You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die

You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling,

You’ll stand there you’ll cry

And then you’ll wonder why,

why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win

As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin,

ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in

This country was never your own

We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but

Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone

Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone

Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone

We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown

As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom

Cause you see freedom isnt free

We gained ours in 1776

Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me

Thinking that you’re free

But you will never be free

Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves

And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies

Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free

And that mere truth is the key

So we won’t say their names

We won’t feel their pains

Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
The sad views of some Americans. The reality that some face every day. The Hurtful ideals that make some view black people as Animals. American culture to some can be something to be proud about. But to some, it is full of hurt and pain. This piece is written to express some things I've heard from white people whether on the news or to my face at my college in Southern Maryland. I hope it makes you uncomfortable. One can not grow in a comfortable place. Enjoy
Poetictunes Jan 2016
Can you help your black brother push even when he's stuck.
Can you pick him up even when he's down.
Can you build him up after society has teared him down.
Can you love him even after the world has hated him from over four hundreds ago.
Can you love your brother?
Because our black men need our black women.
genetic poetic Sep 2014
Love is all he knows,
Like doves, he reeps what he cannot sow,
Completely seeping where you cannot go,
Secretly creeping on his toes,
And there it goes,

Waking up a stranger to the morning sun,.
After shaking from danger,

He cannot live without her his heart speaks out in anger,
She's the last out, to give what they were, from back in the start, for' she sneaked around,
Turned his whole world upside down,
He grabs the gun and preys his last prayers, she stabbed his heart, and it teared and teared,
Life's not fair life's not fair, the underkeeper gloomed,
The gun killed today, and a love much steeper bloomed.
Cedric McClester May 2015
By: Cedric McClester

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

Their presence here
Confirmed my worst fear
Now I'm bein told
What I don't wanna hear
I just got his letter yesterday
Now they're here to say
That he passed away

I got a knock on the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

It's not easy
To lose a loved one
Yet so many daughters
And so many sons
Have been sacrificed
In an illegal war
It's beyond the point
Where we can ignore

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

See I'm not naive
So I don't believe
That a true victory
Can be achieved
In a war where the enemy
Can't be defined
And suicide bombing
Hasn't declined

It's not easy
To lose a loved one
Yet so many daughters
And so many sons
Have been sacrificed
In an illegal war
It's beyond the point
Where we can ignore

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act


Copyright (c) 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
I

What new element before us unborn in nature? Is there
        a new thing under the Sun?
At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative,
        Scientific theme
First penned unmindful by Doctor Seaborg with poison-
        ous hand, named for Death's planet through the
        sea beyond Uranus
whose chthonic ore fathers this magma-teared Lord of
        Hades, Sire of avenging Furies, billionaire Hell-
        King worshipped once
with black sheep throats cut, priests's face averted from
        underground mysteries in single temple at Eleusis,
Spring-green Persephone nuptialed to his inevitable
        Shade, Demeter mother of asphodel weeping dew,
her daughter stored in salty caverns under white snow,
        black hail, grey winter rain or Polar ice, immemor-
        able seasons before
Fish flew in Heaven, before a Ram died by the starry
        bush, before the Bull stamped sky and earth
or Twins inscribed their memories in clay or Crab'd
        flood
washed memory from the skull, or Lion sniffed the
        lilac breeze in Eden--
Before the Great Year began turning its twelve signs,
        ere constellations wheeled for twenty-four thousand
        sunny years
slowly round their axis in Sagittarius, one hundred
        sixty-seven thousand times returning to this night

Radioactive Nemesis were you there at the beginning
        black dumb tongueless unsmelling blast of Disil-
        lusion?
I manifest your Baptismal Word after four billion years
I guess your birthday in Earthling Night, I salute your
        dreadful presence last majestic as the Gods,
Sabaot, Jehova, Astapheus, Adonaeus, Elohim, Iao,
        Ialdabaoth, Aeon from Aeon born ignorant in an
        Abyss of Light,
Sophia's reflections glittering thoughtful galaxies, whirl-
        pools of starspume silver-thin as hairs of Einstein!
Father Whitman I celebrate a matter that renders Self
        oblivion!
Grand Subject that annihilates inky hands & pages'
        prayers, old orators' inspired Immortalities,
I begin your chant, openmouthed exhaling into spacious
        sky over silent mills at Hanford, Savannah River,
        Rocky Flats, Pantex, Burlington, Albuquerque
I yell thru Washington, South Carolina, Colorado,
        Texas, Iowa, New Mexico,
Where nuclear reactors creat a new Thing under the
        Sun, where Rockwell war-plants fabricate this death
        stuff trigger in nitrogen baths,
Hanger-Silas Mason assembles the terrified weapon
        secret by ten thousands, & where Manzano Moun-
        tain boasts to store
its dreadful decay through two hundred forty millenia
        while our Galaxy spirals around its nebulous core.
I enter your secret places with my mind, I speak with
        your presence, I roar your Lion Roar with mortal
        mouth.
One microgram inspired to one lung, ten pounds of
        heavy metal dust adrift slow motion over grey
        Alps
the breadth of the planet, how long before your radiance
        speeds blight and death to sentient beings?
Enter my body or not I carol my spirit inside you,
        Unnaproachable Weight,
O heavy heavy Element awakened I vocalize your con-
        sciousness to six worlds
I chant your absolute Vanity.  Yeah monster of Anger
        birthed in fear O most
Ignorant matter ever created unnatural to Earth! Delusion
        of metal empires!
Destroyer of lying Scientists! Devourer of covetous
        Generals, Incinerator of Armies & Melter of Wars!
Judgement of judgements, Divine Wind over vengeful
        nations, Molester of Presidents, Death-Scandal of
        Capital politics! Ah civilizations stupidly indus-
        trious!
Canker-Hex on multitudes learned or illiterate! Manu-
        factured Spectre of human reason! O solidified
        imago of practicioner in Black Arts
I dare your reality, I challenge your very being! I
        publish your cause and effect!
I turn the wheel of Mind on your three hundred tons!
        Your name enters mankind's ear! I embody your
        ultimate powers!
My oratory advances on your vaunted Mystery! This
        breath dispels your braggart fears! I sing your
        form at last
behind your concrete & iron walls inside your fortress
        of rubber & translucent silicon shields in filtered
        cabinets and baths of lathe oil,
My voice resounds through robot glove boxes & ignot
        cans and echoes in electric vaults inert of atmo-
        sphere,
I enter with spirit out loud into your fuel rod drums
        underground on soundless thrones and beds of
        lead
O density! This weightless anthem trumpets transcendent
        through hidden chambers and breaks through
        iron doors into the Infernal Room!
Over your dreadful vibration this measured harmony        
        floats audible, these jubilant tones are honey and
        milk and wine-sweet water
Poured on the stone black floor, these syllables are
        barley groats I scatter on the Reactor's core,
I call your name with hollow vowels, I psalm your Fate
        close by, my breath near deathless ever at your
        side
to Spell your destiny, I set this verse prophetic on your
        mausoleum walls to seal you up Eternally with
        Diamond Truth!  O doomed Plutonium.

                        II

The Bar surveys Plutonian history from midnight
        lit with Mercury Vapor streetlamps till in dawn's
        early light
he contemplates a tranquil politic spaced out between
        Nations' thought-forms proliferating bureaucratic
& horrific arm'd, Satanic industries projected sudden
        with Five Hundred Billion Dollar Strength
around the world same time this text is set in Boulder,
        Colorado before front range of Rocky Mountains
twelve miles north of Rocky Flats Nuclear Facility in
        United States of North America, Western Hemi-
        sphere
of planet Earth six months and fourteen days around
        our Solar System in a Spiral Galaxy
the local year after Dominion of the last God nineteen
        hundred seventy eight
Completed as yellow hazed dawn clouds brighten East,
        Denver city white below
Blue sky transparent rising empty deep & spacious to a
        morning star high over the balcony
above some autos sat with wheels to curb downhill
        from Flatiron's jagged pine ridge,
sunlit mountain meadows sloped to rust-red sandstone
        cliffs above brick townhouse roofs
as sparrows waked whistling through Marine Street's
        summer green leafed trees.

                        III
                        
This ode to you O Poets and Orators to come, you
        father Whitman as I join your side, you Congress
        and American people,
you present meditators, spiritual friends & teachers,
        you O Master of the Diamond Arts,
Take this wheel of syllables in hand, these vowels and
        consonants to breath's end
take this inhalation of black poison to your heart, breath
        out this blessing from your breast on our creation
forests cities oceans deserts rocky flats and mountains
        in the Ten Directions pacify with exhalation,
enrich this Plutonian Ode to explode its empty thunder
        through earthen thought-worlds
Magnetize this howl with heartless compassion, destroy
        this mountain of Plutonium with ordinary mind
        and body speech,
thus empower this Mind-guard spirit gone out, gone
        out, gone beyond, gone beyond me, Wake space,
        so Ah!
        
                                        July 14, 1978
Poetic T Aug 2014
I
f

My

W
o
r
l
d

Was

A

Tear

Y
o
u

would

D
r
o
w
n

Me in your love
Aisyah MJ May 2014
Why,
Why do you keep on mentioning it to me,
How I lied to you,
How you never, ever will forget the fact that I lied to you,
You look at me with those big blue beautiful eyes,
Those bleak eyes fiery with blame, betrayal,
not an ounce of compassion at all.

And, then they came..
those flashbacks,
the pain,
the tears,
the rip in my heart,
it all came back,
came playing back in my torturous mind.

How you could possibly keep on bringing up my lowest point,
The very day where I just want to keep in a black box -
hide it deep within my subconscious level,
The day I don't even want to think about,
hear about,
feel all the flooding pain again,
Or, get reminded about it, over and over again.

The day where you broke me,
the day where you showed me another side of you,
the day where I felt the worse state I've ever felt,
She was there,
she was standing in front of the door when I entered the house,
Cradling me in her arms as I pour my  frayed soul to her,
That when I broke down, she's there,
can't you just understand me?
she's there!

She saw the blood, she saw the bruises,
The incoherent words I mumble,
I don't even know why I've said it,
But, do you possibly think it's with an intention to hurt you..
to betray you?
to throw away the love I have towards you?

Do you think I would ever break my promise if that never happened?
Do you think I would ever hurt you that way?
Do you have any idea how much I care,
how much you actually mean to me,
how much I ...

I've never teared up as much as I did on that bleak day,
I don't even teared up the day my uncle died,
all I had was a pit in my stomach,
yet, when you hurt me,
it was a black hole,
forever expanding in size,
never decreasing..

I never knew how I could cry that much,
I slept my pain away,
drenched in tears and hurt..

How could I have possibly handled that much pain,
that, I don't know..

I keep on repeating to her,
"I can't believe he hurt me like that"
Those flashbacks,
The stare you have me when you kick me out of your house after obliterating me into nano-sized particles,
after you..
after you made me dazed and abused,
after you lifted your arms and physically hurt me,
not once..
but, one too many.

You shattered me into a million pieces,
You promised me before you won't hurt me,
That when I'm hurt it will never be because of you, ever again,
How could you promise something so important to me and yet, you still keep on hurting me.

I guess it was all sweet nothings.

Have you no compassion towards me at all?
Not a shred of care, not a drop of affection towards me?
Why do you keep on hurting me this way?

I trusted you with all my heart.
I loved you as much as one can love a person,
I filled my void of losing so many people around me,
with my love towards you..

And, yet you keep on treating me like trash,
like that day never happen,
don't you remember?
won't you remember?
You treat me like I'm some Asian rag doll,
Like I'm some Great Wall of China who would never break down,
don't you know I'm a mere human,
as frail as any living creature could be?
I break, I weep, I get crushed everytime you mistreat me.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when I finally feel it.

I tried telling you the day you asked me to go to your place,
I don't even know why I listened to you and just arrived at your doorsteps..

When you cradled me in your arms,
I whispered to you and said, she knows.
You told me, you don't give a rat's *** about what the world thinks about as long as I'm ok with you.

I guess it's all sweet nothings.

But, it's ok.

This girl accepted that this was an imperfect world full of imperfect people and imperfect days and there was nothing she could do to change that.

It's ok you went V on me.
I am trying to move on, to reduce the amount of affection I have towards you.

I'll be ok.
Keep on behaving that way, it's really helping me.
It doesn't hurt that much now.

You take care.
Nicole Joanne Oct 2014
He's the boy with messy blonde hair and emerald eyes;
the kind that can make you blind after some time.
I wish I had known that before I made space for him
on the shelf I call my heart.

His hands were strong, yet gentle,
and they traced every curve
without leaving a mark.

I'm the girl with obviously styled hair, and brown eyes;
in time's company I'm a stranger -so I must always try
to look my best even when I want to cry.

I found myself holding this novel of a boy in my hands,
and quickly much too quickly fell into the pages;
excitement tore the corner of the sheet,
a scar formed on his nose,
and I joked with him
you can't forget me because I've made my mark.

But behind every light giggle there is a truth;
behind every highlighted sentence there is reason.

Here I am physically unscarred by this boy with emerald eyes,
but each night I find myself wondering why he left without a goodbye.
I could only hope that if I was unable to leave an impression
that maybe he will come across the bookmarked page,
the teared sheet and remember me.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.
ARCH Apr 2019
Bare feet
Teared clothes
Eyes with tears
Consoling her fear
She was *****
Broken and burned
Still people taped
Her parents told her
You'll be not married
Nor have kids
It's better to be silent and mild
Her voice being shivered
Shouted! If my words
Will not shout
Rapists voice will be loud
World will make me choose
Tough honor or life
I have nothing to loose
Nothing to loose
People may refuse
May repel my voice
But i being robbed
And justice is what
I wanna eloped ♥️
Women's aren't *** toys ! They are the powerhouse of a house.  Women's are 100 men . **** is serious matter across world.  Wse have to change our mentality and ask our sons to respect not only who gave birth to them but also other's daughter,mother and sister #raiseyourvoice
Share your views and share this♥️
Dm for collaboration
Krezeyyyy Aug 2014
I'm all teared up --
Of pain, unmet expectations
Of dreams that never happen
Of joy I've never felt
Of you who promised and broke it --
I'm all teared up
And I should have turned my back
I should have walked away, from you,
All those times I had been living a lie
I have carefully, intricately built 'US'
Within my thoughts, I've caged the idea
When I should have let it flew
Oh I should have walked away from you.
Oh! I'm all teared up, I'm breathing heavily
Trying to exhale the pain,
Trying to inhale you again
I do not wish to let you go, I want you here
Beside me, within this heart that's empty
Empty until you came.
No, I have let you in when I should have
Turned my back on you;
You turned your back on me
And. I. Am. ****. Tired. Waiting. For. You.

~~ Criss ∞
tian May 2015
A raven lives inside my heart
Devouring its functions part by part
Veins and arteries, teared apart
Blood paints on a canvas, portrait of art

*To be continued
To be continued poem. The thought is missin g. So I'll continue this
Olivia Kent Dec 2014
The Grump put on his morning face.
Wiped away crystallised grit ,
Straight out of her teared up eyes.
My goodness this poem is shaped out of ****!
A deliberate ploy,

For she is woman, and he is boy.
He had a *** change,
Normally grumpy is male, hee hee,
Today grumpy is me.

The last Sunday of a somewhat sulky year.
Look deep in my eyes and surely you'll see a tear.
I don't cry.....
Why ever should I ?
Mentally strong as a freaking ox,
Manipulative as a silver fox.
A wicked sense of humour.
Thank f**k ,
Without that I'd probably have no luck,
Not out on the pull.
That just isn't cool.
Ladies don't.
This lady can't be bothered!
(C) Livvi
Chris T Sep 2013
You took a ride
From a stranger
Driving a flower child van
And you never came back,
Lost in dead dreams,
Long gone ideals,
Wearing a
Psychedelic trip for a shirt
And dirt rubbed jeans teared knee to knee,
The wind blowing
And the radio playing some Dylan song,
Screaming and laughing,
The days were sand castles
On a beach being blown and
Losing shape, back to single grains,
And you promised that you'd never go back
But someplace in the back of your mind
You admitted to yourself that things
Like this, of smiles and bright eyes,
Never last, never last,
But that didn't stop you
And the highway stretched
And the clock ticked ticked
And the seconds were minutes
And the minutes hours,
A paper tablet for every normal thought
Worked like magic, medicine for the spirit,
Just like those that came before you,
All those people that smiled once,
Refusing to get behind a cubicle,
Refusing to wear a suit,
Refusing to get old,
You rode that van to the edge
(Of civilization) and watched the sun
Settle down up close, face to face,
And some time in between
It all stopped
And you were
Ancient history,
The psychedelic shirt lay in a chest,
The jeans in the back of a garbage truck,
The radio stopped playing Dylan,
The wind stopped blowing,
The castles were a hill of sand again,
Nobody screamed, nobody laughed,
you can try to run
But time always gets you,
No amount of pink and green tablets
Will save you
And peace will be but a teenage dream,
And the you that never came back
Did not come back,
But not because the van kept driving,
But because the van broke down forever,
Nothing lasts forever, nothing,
Especially you.
2013. New one. i liked it. It may have a few errors, i'm not sure, haven't edited yet.
mk Dec 2015
her churiyan clashed
submerging in the red, orange and green
of her sharara
as she spun round and round
a blur of striking colors
her laughing face hidden
among those of her cousins
as they danced in a circle
each girl wearing colors of the rainbow
smiles like the sun brightening their faces
their bare feet decorated with mehndi
as they spun on their toes
letting their hair follow them like velvet curtains
the pitter patter of their restless feet
becoming one with the music around them
the elders of the family
throwing rose petals and clapping
watching the new generation
bless the married couple
with laughter, colors & life
the girl with curls in her hair
pulling down the bride-to-be
off the stage and onto the dance floor
her fiancé nudging her and watching his future
twirl with the young girls
as families became from two to one
he looked upon his love with eyes full of wonder
as she pushed back her dark hair and hid her face
refusing to dance
but even the blushing bride couldn't stop the girls
from convincing her to join them
they took her by the hands
and let the music guide them as they threw their arms in the air
swaying to songs about boundless ishq
and the stars which shine upon those who fall in the arms of endless love
the bride's red gharara shimmering under the lights
complimenting the red in her cheeks
the sparkle in her teeka bright
but never brighter than the twinkle in her euphoric eyes
her mother teared watching her baby all grown up
and her father looked at her as his success
seeing his only daughter so full of joy
others onlooked
as the girls embraced their youth
and with the bride created a circle of joy
for that moment,
the love was shared between them all
they forgot all about their heartbreaks
and the everlasting love which never lasted
they forgot all about the boys with pretty eyes and even prettier lies
as they rejoiced over the love of their loved ones
with a little inch of hope in their own hearts
that someday someone would look at them
as the smiling groom did the stunning bride
passion. surety. serenity.
*pyaar
wedding celebrations in the family always leave you wishing it were you who was going down the path of eternal happiness & love.

churiyan: bangles
sharara/gharara: eastern wedding attire
teeka: jewelry item (head-piece)
mehndi: henna
ishq: highest degree of love
pyaar: love
Allania Berkey Jun 2015
Read me your favorite book in the dark, as our bodies touch.
let me feel your thoughts, your fears just as they linger off your lips as you read the words off the page.
In that spilt of a second, Hit me with a silence and deep stare, as I grasp for my breath
Tears the clothes off my body just as you teared into my mind,
Let's sit in the dark, let's share, let's feel.
Read me your favorite book and compare me to daisies.
Rizna M Rameez May 2018
There are some who have that inner peace
Though everything around them is just
Tearing up, falling apart, crumbling down

But sometimes, their hearts are tossed about
Like it was caught in a raging storm
With no evident reason
Nothing but blind
Teared up emotion

Have you ever tried running away,
From Yourself?
Like your being, wants to run
Away from this body that restrains it
Like a time out,
Like I want a little space
A little time away
From all physical constraints

Well, you can’t
But you can run
Run until you’re ready

To face yourself
Stop splitting your mind
Take up your burdens
Calm your heart


But yet

You paint your screams across pages
With paint, words, motions
They’re all the same
But of what?
Agony? Frustration? Anguish?

You’re laughing through tears
Confused? Battered? Restless?
Your mind’s a mess
And you grip onto your sanity
Laughing hysterically

But at the end of it all
You take a step back
Yet you don’t quite realize

Some things are an illusion
Especially feelings, emotions
They tend to take over you quite a bit
They overwhelm you

And you,
You’re holding yourself together
Like you’re gonna burst any moment
Into confetti
Just a bunch of paper flying around

But that’s alright
It’s just your mind messing up with you

And one day you get over it
You’re just done with it
But yet, it’s part of you
That you’re laughing at

Just a stepping stone
Just to find yourself
Home. And stronger.
18.01.2018
I wrote this back when I was really confused and fed up with thinking about things and I had these horrible headaches.
white coat Sep 2014
He choked me until I went under the other day
And oh my god it felt so great
My eyes teared up and my mind went dark
And oh how I wanted him to keep going

Is this how rope would feel too?
I mean surely it would yield the same affect except much faster

If so death would be so easy
Death would feel so good
Death would take 30 seconds of pure pleasure

**** falling to the break of my bones and drowning in the ***** water of my passed
I want to be cut off from the poison that is oxygen
I want salvation at last

I can't do it now because I love you
But please oh please do it again
I'll practice with you for what will happen after you get bored and leave

I have no fear of death
None what so ever
******* thank you darling I love you so much
Bassam A Dec 2014
1) Your eyes killed me without mercy

2) Your lips made me an addict

3) My heart keeps gossiping about you all the time

4) Since I saw you, I forgot the rest

5)  You stole my heart and hid it

6) You merged with my soul and I don't know who I am anymore

7) You occupy my imagination all the time

9) You jailed me waiting for your answer

10) You teared my eyes when they thought they were not going to see you again

Your sins are forgiven if you say* ...

**"I love you"
Salmabanu Hatim Dec 2018
I ate hot meals,
I brushed my teeth day and night,
I spent long hours on the mobile
with friends,
I wore well laundered clothings,
Not a single crease or a stain on them,
Before motherhood.
My home was ***** and span,
No stumbling on scattered toys,
No ***** window panes,
No tiny hands holding my skirts,
No one  eagerly waiting for me on the doorsteps,
No spits,pukes, pees or poos to clean,
No teared  eyes to wipe,
No tiny bundle to hold in my arms,
Getting love,warmth and satisfaction in return,
Before motherhood.
I was in control of myself,
Of my mind and thoughts,
Caretaker of my own body,
Spending hours to enhance my beauty,
To maintain grace and elegance,
Before motherhood.
Now I am a mum,
I don't mind if my hair is disheveled,
My house is a bit messy,
I am exhausted,
For the reward of a hug, a kiss
and those endearing words,"I
love you mum,you are the bestest." completes me.
samasati Jun 2013
I know what it’s like to be heartbroken too

it feels like a bomb

like the flowers that have been eaten alive by aphids

always sitting with you, uncomfortable,

a notch tighter on your belt loop after a heavy meal

or someone taking an unflattering picture of you and posting it all over the internet

you are ugly to yourself now,
and quiet because of it

I lost my clarity after I ran up the hill and rolled down it, clumsily with joy

it must have fallen out of my pocket or dripped out of my eye sockets
as they teared up from the pollen

I ask myself

what is true?

but it’s harder here, when I can’t be certain if there’s a ghost hanging around in my frontal lobe or if it’s just the pulsating fear of being kicked to the curb

that’s what being heartbroken is like -

always feeling like you’re being kicked to the curb for no good reason

it’s like,
what’s the point of getting up in the morning? I’ll make breakfast and then somebody will hurt me again

the point is
learning how to decipher the difference between apathy and acceptance

you’ll get there

redemption doesn’t count or feel at all rewarding if everything is easy
Andrew Parker Nov 2017
Written on 11/20/2017

That awkward moment when someone flirts with you on a dating app and says "I like that you look masculine."

You see,
I never saw masculinity as a part of me.

My identity was always flamboyant,
wearing pink shirts and sashes,
crop tops with styling gelled eyelashes,
sparkling headbands and dazzling bandannas,
snapback hats featuring giant bananas,
I dressed with the raging flamboyance of flamingos!
Sporting a certain type of femininity that only a gay man knows.

All the trimming and cutting, and shaving and nairing,
for hours,
as time and body hair intertwined in the showers,
washed masculinity off my body down the drain,
Experienced electrolysis burns, but the pain
had infected my thoughts,
like each hair is unnatural.  

Purge it all,
Scorch and torch it all,
Leave nothing at all!
No trace
of evolution's flawed attempt to grace
me with an adaptive advantage to take on the world's harsh climate.  
I admit,
this hair entangles me and strangles me,
it also oozes out of me like pimples from a pore,
a ***** to testosterone,
poor me - a victim of nature's masculinity.
What a hairy situation I've gotten myself in.

--

Femininity.
Its bestowed upon me by society.
When I sashay or say hey gurl hey,
society recognizes these things as girly and gay,
not a very masculine way to walk or talk.  

Stereotypes about *** and gender are so easily manipulated.
Like a circus performer on the tight rope,
the suspense keeps people wondering where will I fall?

But hold me under a microscope and you will see it all,
a million molecules that makeup my femininity.
I wear skinny jeans and tank tops,
then get complimented on them by dude bros,
like yo that's tight- where'd you get it boss?

I bought it in the girl's section at Ross.

My toe nails painted and displayed for public view,
flip flops emboldened with matching turquoise hues,
Femininity is worn on me like a fabulous armor plate.

--

Fast forward to a fateful date during No-Shave November.
I remember,
growing out my ****** hair for the very first time,
I wore it like a mask,
portraying a fictional character who was masc-uline.
Bathing in manliness at this masquerade.
It was through this charade,
that I grew
... temporary happiness for me from all of you.

The compliments they poured in.
My once smooth canvas of a face,
waiting to be crafted into the Mona Lisa,
had been turned into an artistic masterpiece,
'Gay Man with Amnesia',
of who he used to be.
A painting of someone society wanted,
someone whose masculinity was outwardly flaunted.
But inside, I felt taunted,
each time they complimented
me and my newfound masculinity.

--

Then, it happened on Grindr,
a gay dating app.
This masculine mishap.

A stranger's message read, "I like that you look masculine."
It sounded even stranger in my head.
Their profile description read,

"Masc 4 Masc
Masculine man seeking other masculine men to hangout with."

That's when I felt it.
My mask had made me masc.

This particularly manic morning brought me to ask
myself in the bathroom mirror,
"Who the hell am I looking at?"

In sheer terror, I teared-up,
scanned the portrait of 'Gay Man with Amnesia',
and then decided to tear it up!

I grabbed my electric razor,
grum grum grummm
as these blades grazed my face and chin,
I was offered sweet, soft, porcelain skin - my absolution.

pause

heh heh
When I came to and snapped out of the amnesia,
eager to see results of this restorative procedure,
the mirror was fogged with steam and slop.

I tried logging in to my laptop's webcam,  
for naught.  
The ****** recognition feature -- didn't recognize me
... but finally, I did.

Once again, I see the man behind the masc-ulinity.
Chloe M Teng Apr 2015
Do you see that old man
filthy and wrinkled on the street
he's a statue where the feet often steps
and yet his soul never did leave

Do you see that young lady
Pained and teared in her heart
sitting by the lonely bench
her eyes teary, staring at the sun

Have you seen that small child
cold and starved by his fate
drinking water despite its filthiness
smiling despite the cruelty of the world

How many unspoken words are there
roaming around in the thin air
knowing how large the world is
Yet the love is so small, so rare

Knowing how heartless people can be
knowing that their beloved ones left
and yet they wore shades of smile
With their unspoken words behind everything else
"We can do no great things, just small things with great love." -Mother Teresa
Saumya Sep 2018
Yesterday, for a while,
When the doors were closed,
I heard a howl from an alluring primrose:
'Arise, Awake lest wear a cloak,
It's twelve, it's midnight
Our turn to explore'


Amazed, afraid yet stunned from this roar,
I steped, and ran towards the front door.
I peeped up and down,
Around all its cores,
But nothing but a melody was all I could explore! _

Curious, Agitated,
With a thirst to know more,
I sat restless
Gazing at the door.

Again came a shrill cry,
Of a man once known,
'May I enter, enter the door
And have some toast?'

Oh! All I could listen
Was to give him a toast,
But ah! I could'nt see
His head or nose!

I wondered, I wandered,
I could see him for sure,
But ah! This figure
I could see not anymore.

I turned back and walked towards my room's floor,
I felt some steps, following me for sure
I ceased, I turned and looked to the door,,
But couldn't see anything once more,
Before I sat in disgust,
Next to a pillow

I was hungry and thirsty,
So couldn't resist more,
And cozily teared a packet
To have some toast

But oh! a bite from it,
Or more,
Gave me chills, and shudders
Of kinds I never had for sure!

I turned back,
Saw a black big ghost,
I cried out loud,
And he stared more and more
He patted my shoulders,
Casually ya know!

His eyes so red,
And puffy ya know,
His skin was stained,
With humanish gore.

His nails so, long,
His figure so stout,
His cheeks and neck
Were a sorry sight
Oh! I dreaded seeing him,
And mostly looked out.
And prayed that he left Me
alone in my house

He sensed my annoyance,
The disgust I had then,
He sensed that I was scared,
From this ghostly man!

He smiled a smile,
I wondered then why,
He asked me to sit,
Saying twould all be alright,
If I'd have a seat
And plan not to fight.

Puzzled, annoyed, yet
I listened to it all,
As I sat down firmly,
In my dreary dining hall

He sat when I sat,
And asked me for small,
A glass of water, some toast
And shawls

I handed him some toast,
In his palms too large,
And served him water,
In a vessel much large

He ate and drank,
And burped so high,
And asked me
To give him a shawl
As twas late midnight

Scared, agitated,
I still dared to ask,
'May I know why thee need a shawl?
You look to un-human,
Behave not like us even,
I'm sure, you're a ghost,
From some hearthy heaven!

What makes ya come in my
Room afterall,
As I know the main door was locked afterall?
And While all are asleep, in this night too dark?'

He grinned,
He smiled,
Like a man too wise,
While his eyes were full
Of lamentous skies.
He Replied with a sigh,
With angst and disgust
Bleeding from his eyes:

'Ya got it right,
Ya got it right,
I'm a loveless,
Forsaken, deserted knight,
Once loved, twice rejected,
And sent to demise,
By my children, and thence by dear wife!'.

I begged for my food,
I begged for my home,
But Oh what I got?
Was a life alone!

I loved them most,
They hated me utmost,
I was fooled by the ones
Who I thought were so close!

I lost my health,
I lost much more,
I lost my body,
Because of them therefore!

But ah! This time,
The time and our deeds,
Yield just that
What best deserve thee!

I begged for them then,
They beg, beg now,
They loved me not then,
No one loves them now,
And oh what they are they,
Is but a sad, sad clown!
And ah what they earn,
Is but a ***** frown!

This shawl oh girl,
That I asked ya to give,
Was for my unfortunate,
Unhealthy kids.

I can't see them weep,
And beg at streets,
I can't see them starve,
For their slightest meal.

I tread in dark,
And sob at my children,
I wish, I wish
I could atleast pamper them!
And a shawl this night,
In this chilly, frosty night,
Would what i think,
Would be the best present,
But my dear, deserted, unloved children
To rest in this night.
So cold to awaken.

I walked with him,
He walked with me,
He showed me the place,
Where lay his children,
In an utterly bad state.


I asked him to wait,
Ran back to my house,
And collected all the shawls
I got that night.


I came back running,
With the heap of shawls,
While my tears knew no end,
I knew not ,how to stop them at all!


He grabbed the shawls,
Handed it to them,
But ah those kids!
Couldn't feel his hands.


He smiled and sobbed
At this instance,
And thanked me well,
With his shivering big hands!


He asked me a leave,
With his heart at sleeves,
While he vanished in grey,
In those dusty, grey streets.

Just an imagination :)

Please let me know how was this poem.( This is my very first horror poem this far.)
This tears on my ****** skin
Tears from your ****** sins
Tear from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.

Deep cuts from within
Deep cuts on my skin
Deep cuts down my wrist
Life is so brisk
I like the risk.

They say "sticks and stones may break my bones"
But their the ones who always had homes.
"Words will never hurt me"
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be.

Deep cuts on my thighs
Deep cuts from your lies
Cuts from what Ive realized
People are evil in my eyes

Your words teared my heart; and I my skin. It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said; your sins on my skin.
Curtis Owens Aug 2018
Lying, yellow lamp light illuminated the baron broadway.
Fear beginning to break through thought, fighting for freedom from intention.
“Be afraid”.
“Be very afraid”.
He stayed, splayed
on hard road looking peaceful in that white night.
Calling to the angels with snow.
“NO! Be afraid”.
“NO! Be very afraid I said”.
His mind was already made, he stayed splayed.
Weeping, wishing, waiting he welcomed what was to come.
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
But he was done, finished with the world.
Thought and fear swirled inside; whirlpools of midnight black carried him on tormented tides, torturing his mind.
Is this his time ?
Is this his time ?
Continue on ? and when they ask he’ll just say that he is fine.
Joke and laugh and long inside for things he’ll never find.
These were the thoughts that toiled in his mind, teetering on the edge, shears ready to cut thread.
Laying there....
Staying there as headlight begun to blind.
Feelings, thoughts and life its self bursting from there binds.
Faster, closer, louder. No one sees the signs and no one cares: pain so great it can’t be beared, hurt so deep it can’t be shared, pain that teared and teared and teared. Breaking will, it never stills, pain that built and built and built.
He just wants it to cease,
he just wants peace!.
He could smell it now, petrol in the air.
Hear the wind, see the light, his fear gave up the fight.
The engines roar, so loud that it silenced his mind.
The light got closer.
The light got closer, so many things not done, so many things unsaid.
And then....
he was starring at the moon as car and light and noise passed him over head.
He wasn’t.... Dead.
He wasn’t dead.
This started life as a winter scene but soon took on its own personality.
Eriko Mar 2016
just know,
        light footed boy
                     faint hearted girl,
glory morning dew
teared umbrella

bristling in the
fierce passion erupting like piano keys
          ignited by the spark
          of shared candles

dotting the palaces
         our maddening pursuit
                     love
                                      
                                           the soreness bristling
                                                on the bottom of my feet  
         my coarse voice
         and tired windpipes

                                                                                     my love for you ceased,
                                                                                        teared by the ricochet
                                                                                    of my failed daydreams
goodbye
Axion Prelude Jun 2014
candid malice, besieging
drained by lucrative ignorance
frustration staining teared windows
the hole leaks with pure essence
once where the heart stood, emptiness retains resolve
desolation sets in
she calls, in the mind..
passion begets strife
i walk on
Khrystle Rea Feb 2013
heavy lids yearn to
erase last nights hurt.
i struggle to smile real.
Stanley Zakyich Nov 2012
"They're awake while we're sleeping," we said, we said.
While we were sleeping, we bled, we bled.
We awoke in the next,
according to holy text,
in heaven with Jesus. The wine, the bread.

"They're awake while we're sleeping," we read, we read.
"I didn't expect it," we said, we said.
They slit our throats,
put us in boats,
after taking us out of our beds, our beds.

"They're awake while we're sleeping," they jeered, they jeered.
"We got them so good!" They sneered, they sneered.
"Imagine the cries
of their daughters and wives!"
They laughed so hard, they teared, they teared.

'They're awake while we're sleeping,' They thought, they thought.
The desire for sleep was naught, was naught.
Death was their fear,
what made them tear,
and suicide suited the lot, the lot.

"They're awake while we're sleeping!" They cried, they cried.
Dancing in circles. They lied, they lied.
They lie to their prey
Before they lay
their heads to rest, to rest.

"They're awake while we're sleeping!" He said, he said.
The TV announcer just led, just led,
The people to believe
the children and leave
them alone while their plot to thread, to thread.

"They're awake while we're sleeping," we believed, we believed.
We thought the children were grieved, were grieved.
We didn't give it thought.
We thought we'd rather not.
Because we did not
give it the proper thought
Our death we let them perceive. Perceive.
Daan Feb 2014
Why should I keep writing, when
there is no one to write for.
All that I have written, made me
less attractive, made me hopeless

Chanceless, I feel so stupid, sad
and mistaken, does nobody
not a single girl, think I'm cute enough
to help me out of this sightless hole

Tell me I'm not useless, tell me there is
someone out there, tell me it's you.

I'd write about you, for you, with you, metaphores come automatically
Words arrange themselves when you bring them to me.
It's not necessary to like my writings, just be flattered that I'd do it for you.

Isn't that what really counts, counting the days till I see you
meet you, recognizing, each other, missing piece, long lost feelings
rejoined.

Join me in my journey, escape the nets of fishers, escape the cages of the zoo
escape the reservoirs. Together we could be unique creatures. Loved and hated
Adored, adore me like a cold sundae on a hot sunday.
just let me sleep, please
Hannah Nov 2014
don’t touch my soul with ***** hands
your miserable lies lay where you stand
a shadow of filth cling to your back
turn around to a nightmare of black
regrets haunting your every thought
maybe you shouldn't have wrestled and fought
for my own fragile, loyal heart
when love meant nothing as you teared me apart
inspiration off of tumblr, whaaat
Stxlle Feb 2019
The air is filled with tension whenever we were together. We were opposites yet, we attracted each other. We go together. We compliment one another.

He was a painter and I was his masterpiece.

He made me his sky. I was covered in blue and purple. Every touch was like lightning. Every encounter brought a storm. There was no peace in me. There was no light in him.

He put me together and teared me apart. He built me up and pushed me down.  I told him to leave then begged him to stay. I left him but I came back.

I had to come back.
His coldness brought me warmth and my loneliness brought him company.

We go together in all the wrong ways.
Yet, we stayed with each other because that's all we know.
Wrote this while listening to Hostage - Billie Eilish
I cried for no apparent reason
I sobbed and teared my way out
Silently without any reason
I wailed hollowly as I silently shout

I laughed for not a single thing in mind
Smiling at everything in bliss
I stared wide eyed like in treasures we find
But deep in me something is amiss

The hollow feeling of something which is not there
The slight tingling of my numb soul
The feverish and endless hunger I bear
The empty shell drained from a gaping hole

I am born to be as one destined
To feel agony and joy
I have virtue yet I sinned
In deep eternity the lord's broken envoy

Of deep hatred and much love
The fear and bravery both halves
Like the flying crow and dove
I am a Yin and Yang created by the One Above.
The Episodes  of bipolarity written in a more bearable way. I've been stressed lately and the Episodes keep coming like the ebb and flow of the sea.

— The End —