Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Haylin Apr 2018
The horror, the rain,
The misery, the pain.
The factors of teenagehood
And its ghostly being.

From nasty rivalry,
The silver teardrops quench the
Hunger of discaring boys.
They move on to their next victim.

Words like love, hate, *****,
Are thrown around and toyed with.
Teenage socialism is a witch,
Sweeping misery across the generation.

Heartbreaking, the look in their eyes,
Well up with tears, victims to lies.

Teenagehood, it grasps you
By its crooked claws.
From your peace, it rips apart
Your soul and leaves damage in its trail.

Why do we have to suffer?
Why can’t we return to the world?
The world we loved and cherished.
Toys and songs, now perished.

Puberty, hatred, fear,
They all add up to one phase in life.
With its treacherous fangs.
Hurt from distrust brings misery near.

With sympathy to all,
For a long journey ahead.
Hold on to your sanity,
For the reason you have previously read.
Valerie Nov 2010
No one told you,
When you would turn thirteen,
That you would suddenly do your make-up,
And try girly things.
You would no longer like baseball,
But rather going shopping for shoes,
And going to the mall,
To watch boys and what they do.
No one told you,
That when you would add one more year,
You would start to change,
And your life you would begin to steer.
You would date your first real boy,
And obsess over him for a week,
Then he would treat you like a toy,
And find he is not what you seek.
No one told you,
That when you would turn fifteen,
Make-up would not be all that important,
And you would not much like girly things.
Once again you would like sports,
But did not quite obsess over shoes,
You would have a crush on a dork,
And you would not be sure what to do.
No one told you,
That when you would add another year,
You would think **** is a fashion,
And that boy you had liked is now a queer.
Then that queer became your best friend,
And he would take you shopping for shoes,
But you would rather get a job,
And start becoming something new.
No one told you,
That when you would turn seventeen,
You would realize sixteen is so far away,
And feel stuck in between.
You would have your job and your best friend,
And all the shoes you ever could want,
But it would not seem like enough,
And your body you would not really flaunt.
No one told you,
That when another year would go by,
That you would still feel like a teenager,
And you would not know what to do with your life.
High school would finally be over,
And yet you would miss it so much,
Your best friend would have moved away,
And you would feel like you have lost your touch.
No one told you,
That when you would turn nineteen,
You would be shopping for furniture,
For your best friend that had moved away.
And that he would come back into town,
Deciding he was not gay,
And he wanted you to be down,
For getting married one day.
No one told you,
That when life gets a little uncontrollable,
The most unexpected happens,
And you would find it unavoidable.
No one told you,
And I am sure you are thinking that I am right,
That when you were a teenager,
You felt like life was so “tight!”
And other times it was not so great,
Like when you partied ‘til you yakked,
And when you lost your virginity,
It was with that guy that did not want you back.
And when you would do drugs for the first time,
You would have to sneak out of your house,
And you would fall asleep after the high,
And your parents would find out.
No one told you,
All those things you thought: you would never do,
And all those things they said: you would not,
Even though you thought you ought to.
No one told you,
About the tears that you would cry,
And the times you would laugh so hard,
That you would *** yourself and lie to get by.
And all the classes you would skip,
To get things you did not need,
And that you would drive your car into a ditch,
Man, don't you wish you had not done it?
But if you had not,
You would not be who you are,
And I bet you are happy they did not tell you,
And I bet you are happy your wish on a star,
Did not come true.
All because no one told you.
SSK<3  AKA: Valerie
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
Do you KNOW what it's like to STAND at your front door for half an hour,
SHAKING just trying to OPEN it?
GOD forbid you actually WALK out of it.

WAKING up in cold SWEATS with the PANIC that has FAILED to be SUPPRESSED in the SOLITARY, morphing WARY into the MANIC.

ISOLATION driven you half insane
That as you try to hold a CONVERSATION you're counting the syllables off against WINDOW PANES. And if they don't FIT you have to adjust the TOPIC to make sure you end on the LAST PANE.

It's lasting pain to know
I spent a good part of my
teenagehood in this state.


But now a weight has been lifted,
be it a product of my split personality or not the poles have been shifted,
so now it's time to sue a side
and reclaim the path stolen by an imposter deemed fate
cause if I learnt anything
in the wait it's this;

*YOU ARE THE PERSPECTIVE YOU CREATE
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
well, it would really become a problem...
if i were still jerking off and had a girlfriend / wife...
the ladies are looking for ultra-violent ****,
it's just a tease off ***** -
there's choking there's *******:
oddly enough... no yo-yo of Watergate?
me... i'm not willing to be shamed...
i still have my ******* -
she can have her webcam e-thot or whatever
the hell the internet **** is: memes my ***...
once upon a time it was merely called graffiti...
i don't see how darwinism can make
a 2nd coming resurgence in the 21st century...
fine... when it first came out at the end
of the 19th century: and opened the floodgates
for the 20th... and thanks to the physicists...
lasso! rein 'em in! rein 'em in:
for the fireplace and the ******* kumbaya...
the girls are looking and having finally decided
on an spanish omelette: but not a french ****
quiche... eggs and more eggs...
while i'm strapped to ******* one genocide
after another into the tissue and
flushing it down as: meat for the crocodiles
and tapeworms pretending they know how
play the parasite attaching themselves
to a white all white: white even if you're copper
skinned, cinnamon, hot choc or...
it's still a white tadpole racer...
i usually get off on looking at some xenia wood
cleavage...
it helps to tell apart the *** cleavage and
the breast cleavage...
i moved from: ******* snaps and started peering
at: when a woman pretends to perform
the lotus on a man's face...
and there's like... a floral pattern involved
with gulping oysters...
have i ever licked an ***-hole?
oh my... have i...
**** - *** 1-on-1... doom... 1st person shooters...
never the 3rd person ghost moving
the body...
am i missing something? the girls are
looking for extreme ***... i'm looking for
cleavage and teddy bears -
and the borderline before the whole body
exfoliates and what not...
as marquis de sade said: it's hardly something
i can control when i have a hard-on
almost 4 times during the day...
if i had a girlfriend... if would be crass to:
sly one in...
but... *******... no woman no cry...
it would be truly sad if i was in a relationship
and still up to the shambles of: not up to any
or the odd sort of good -
there's always this shared approach -
the wants and willingness needs to by made
synch. - they need to be a woman and a man:
polyphony - orchestra!
why write about ***? oh hell...
watch me write anything else -
my linguistic infatuations - *** and all manner
or picked ******* sells -
or... at a catholic school they would still teach
you about the perils of sniffing glue -
apparently the 1960s never happened -
no l.s.d. was ever dropped -
the pints of guinness were drank -
the cement was poured as the muscle to
the iron rod skeletons...

and when i finally achieved a beard worthy
of a post-25 year old - when the full
bush sr. happens - i forgot to curate
a body for: the objective safety of being watched...
or how the hell you word:
prior to the beard i focused on the face
and later the body...
and long hair...
once the beard arrived...
**** it... let's take to donning the Elijah
look... the beard comes way way ahead
of the nose - and now i'm still looking
for my neck -

it's *** it's only spectacular about once...
i've had that once spectacular -
i even got a tattoo -
oh... not me... i'm the dragon alien curl...
where my scar is...
on her right shoulder-blade...
and that's not even as if i branded her
myself...
she was going to fit me out with
dreadlocks and a tattoo of her totem at
the time - a scorpion -
thankfully i read about all this crap
in high school...
nick hornby's high fidelity -

it's still a very musical affair...
i remember what love at first sight looks
like to a fresh 17 year old
novosibirsk girl... siberian girl...
all the way west in edinburgh...
she gobbled the iPod and the playlist...
a near complete oeuvre of iron maiden...
and the odd songs...
while i was correcting two girls attempting
to make pancakes...
girls! you need to put some oil into the dough...
this is dough you'd make a sponge cake with...
so the story goes...

but *** was only spectacular once...
the rest of the time i think i was minding an itch...
even these days...
among... aha! that nag hammadi word:
in the Barbelo - the brothel -
no: i will not study the etymology -
in the brothel nothing spectacular ever happens -
you chance upon a ***** -
you're asked whether you want to use it -
you decline -
to play judas with the lips -
you pay an extra ten quid for you-feeding-the-oyster
suckling and all other leech comparison of oral...
ventures...
it's done - the mirrors are witnesses...
the lights are dimmed - two beached whales
on the shore of a bed of crisp linen -
and no one-night-stand
cocoon *** *******!
how do people stand these cocoon ***:
under the bed-sheets moments?!

because it would be really harsh to have a girlfriend...
and still have to *******...
at least without a girlfriend i can solve
the mystery of the throne of thrones -
no. 1 no. 2 and no. 3 -
then a quick baptism in the shower -
i sometimes found that doing the no. 3
helps with a constipation
of a no. 2 on: the throne of thrones...

- and as someone who discovered *******
before he could produce ***** -
well - the ******* is a "side project" -

because this world already needs no more
puritanical quips -
all this ******* stigmata looms over
the circumcised men -
but of course it would - why wouldn't it?
can you scratch your nose
if you cut-off the "un-necessary" rubicon /
cartilege?

would a balding scalp Adam ever scratch his
head - quiver - i thought that only stubble
and hair prompted one to scratch one's skin?
if i see a bald man scratching his head:
i'll let you know!

the plague of circumcised men's stigmata -
and if i had a girlfriend and she wasn't
"up to speed" like me: quasi marquis de sade
"might expect"...
**** me... even Chikatilo "fathered" children...
so much for "excuses": 2 to be exact!
nominee for bachelor of the year...
205th year (circa) coming:
Kant - the prussian watchmaker in
a coming of: calculating the promenade of
excuses - no famously i didn't / wouldn't
marry -

if you asked what i used to do
on those warm spring nights...
back in ol' satellite of the former u.s.s.r. -
and that... we entertained ourselves...
catching cockchafer beetle and catching girls
and tugging at their t-shirts and throwing
them in...
we: used to that sort of thing...
what better reason to drink seeing
the youth of today:
as a seemingly old dounding man:
well... in your 30s you sort of hit that zenith
of mortality's vitality on offer -
as much as technology is celebrated -
its change - it's impetus -

what's that... quote?
when an unstoppable force (technology) meets
an immovable object (ontology) -
or at least: i find man's ontology
to be forever played and plagued
by a priori "prepositions": genes -
and technolgoy is forever the a posteriori
counter-fact: of what much later...
much much later... in limbo land of history
becomes an: artifact escaping archeology...
now are we all not wishing
for some variation of closure?

memes: represented as genes?
really? i see them nothing but a cheap south-paw
jab's worth of the otherwise obvious:
graffiti (representation)...

girls are really searching for violent *** -
having **** fantasies?
my my - and here i was looking
for a xenia wood cleavage and some Bronzino:
you never have curbed your pornographic
enthuasiasm: if you never ******
off at...
mein gott! it's a meme!
1st comes god's index finger touching
adam's index finger in:
michelangelo's fresco of the creation of adam...
but the higher 2nd?
venus' tongue teasing the tongue
of cupid in Bronzino's cupid, folly and time...

i ****** off to that painting -
it's hard to stop a boy who knew how to:
prior to the kippah-guilt tripping:
no minus the ******* into early teenagehood...
i don't think i have yet to have dumped
the proper load on this: exercise - just yet...

oh the shame:
thankfuly this is england and no h'america -
and jesus is not the queen or king -
ol' lizzie is still playing poker and...
the constitution is and what i will not become
is this "vox populis" of a people
disaffected as to why the tax goes into the
pomp & circumstance and none of it:
thank god! ever goes into sense & sensibility
akin to the consort Middleton family;
that's highly replica prone...
blue-bloods... love them or hate them...
at least you can sight them as
almost unchanging -
sphynx head while the body changes
from male to female - but the sphynx is still there...

of an erectile-dysfunction: i would most certainly
hear if i had a girlfriend...
as it happened - the "free women"
always gave me a limp...
in the brothel i was there and she was there -
and i was she and she was i
and we weren't bothered about
counting two transgender sheep
of the nag hammadi library -

even on those one-night stands:
erectile-dysfunction - dim lights two beached
whales on the bedsheets i could stomach...
in a brothel...
but then she took me home
like some morrissey wallow and...
it was all about cocoon ***...
i've heard that temperature changes
the *** of frogs upon insemination...
cocoon *** under the bedsheets...
i stopped going out...

it's might almost sound like boasting:
believe me... it's disgruntled sarcastic... the overtone
to these words...
even i tried teasing a fetish with
latex lucy - but... then i thought about...
if you start wearing the same clotches
for god knows how long -
like an imitation of dog's hair...
you'd wish to squish into something
less pardonable / expected like a full gimp
imitation of lizard latex...
but violence an ****?

maybe that's why i started to tease
1970s italian classics...
dubbing from belgium and amsterdam
and all that...
but always after the torso cleavage -
always after the Om-onomatopeia look of
absent eyes and boiling tongues in a gurgle...
the contorted final stages of the face
before the lesser death as:
faking birth in ****** -
or what the hell you call: scavenger of:
never the lost details...
and if i had 7 children in the bag i would be
a fraud... and if i had a girlfriend
i would be a fraud and hopefuly ashamed...

came the white flag... came the rainbow flag...
came the ******* flag...
came the image: how would you ever find
yourself in a desire to blink: to peacock flutter...
without a pair of eye-lids?
hmm...
all those ******* freed arguments...
not coming from the "progressive school"
of islam -
or the hasidic jewry where:
a woman is to made to make concessions?
otherwise: waiting for that
golden moral maxim Confuscian wifey?

that a deity should...
somehow give moral laws...
i thought that man was the moral lawgiver?
if god were to become the moral
law advocate...
man should most certainly become
the physical law-giver - or at least:
to best serve my attention -
attempt fictional escapes via superhero
infantilism...

again: historiological infantilism -
the only serious history we are supposed to know
comes from h'america...
the civil rights movement -
that's serious history!
everything else is infantile historicism -
interchange of historicism and historiology -
yes - heidegger's leftovers...
but what is serious history?
and what is infantile history?
oh i'm pretty sure much of history kept in
agitated dust is: cowboys vs. indians
roleplaying... games...

cite anything serious of the past...
if there's no stampede toward some platonic exit...
then serious history happens with
the h'american civil rights movement...
after that we only have journalism
and bad idea dear diary entries...
of the next to come: ***** teenager
plague by acne and the many more oopses to come...

- and with the world saturated by:
an **** of forms - wielding their interwine and
maggot pit of "metaphors" -
better i write this than speaking during *** -
what could possibly saturate the "land"
that's already a swamp -

somehow i'm not edging toward a moral
superiority - the day i discovered
that god was both the god of writing
physical: and moral laws...
i was assured by the chinese that:
all kosher and all halal would pass
the test of the: 3 peepsqueaks...
no? do not eat a pig: do not eat a mandarin!
god only knows what the pig ate...
god forbid you ever knew the full
menu of Beijing!

pigs are the: das schlechteste!
das äußersteschlechteste!
pigs, mandarins, bats...
the bubonic plague, rats,
"supposing that africans would ever ****
monkeys"...
why would africans ever
**** monkeys...
i'm supposed to be ashamed of
having a hard-on...
while the white girls rummage
the carousel!

i could suppose the chinese already
ate the supposed ****-buddy to begin with...
it's no more funny when the "thing"
spreads like a mongolian shy-auxilliary
brigade of: voyeurs of:
the only evolution we are to be concerned
with, is to be better associated
with viruses, parasites and lice...

and if i were to live a sheltered western
liberal elite life... "elite":
the bigger the mouth the bigger the... whatever...
no complaint from the arabs
itching over well curated pork...
they'll allow the mandarin diet! no problem!

it's no problem...
pigs are the "problem"... when a god devolved
to invoke moral laws: his most high!
and it was "somehow" not man...
how can god, a monotheistic god...
give both physical laws and moral laws?
to me that's near impossible!
ah... unless this god is given
the "plotheistic" splinter of being
a theistic god and not a deistic god...
a theistic god gives both physical
and moral laws... a deistic god gives:
no moral laws: he was expecting
we could do so!

i can't believe in a god that plagiarises
man's activity -
man can't change the laws surrounding gravity...
yet to be known whether light
is somehow subjected to gravity...
but a god does not intervene by giving
moral laws...
having already established physical laws...
entertaining himself in the playground
of metaphysics...
only a prince... the devil -
would ever... intervene as god to give...
higher authority: a plagiarism of
man-made laws...
and call them: with deity origins...
why would a "god" meddle in:
you will not steal, you will not ****...
when...
god has set up a recycling centre?!

god is no judge, prosecutor, lawyer,
defendent, the accussed,
the jury over moral laws...
he is the epitome of physical laws:
the unchanging...
to have confused divine intervention
with a god bowing -
before and succumbing to...
man's ordiance... a moral law...
god does not allow himself moral qualities...
and god would not discriminate
against a pig: saying:
but the pig is the most economic piece -
had not man found the boar and
domesticated it?
the boar became the pig domesticated!
and the pig can be eaten...
from snout to tail and with only
the oink missing!

for a god to be so degraded as
the arbiter of physical laws -
to be ***** into giving moral laws...
only a devil would...
only a devil would...
only a devil would play with man's moral
laws... and attempt to supress
the already constaining impossible
with his cameo in egypt -
that machiavelli of sorts...

if the quran attempts to question
the cleanliness of pigs:
and god made the pig...
or rather made the man and the boar
and allowed man to domesticate the boar...
sick... ugly... but...
kept the mandarin: pristine!
save the pig... eat a mandarin!
if you dare...

how much do i abhor these infernal riddles:
how much i abhor scolding the bacon:
is also as much as:
you deserve the beijing sneeze!
you should let it palm tree vacate
and spread in the united arab emirates!
oh.. go on go on go on!
who's not looking?!

i only have old teutonic anthems to listen
to... because...
i like the way german sounds,
how german sounded...
how german will sound...
because at least german is not english...
and that's almost asking for a plum
tattoo of hue under the teasing
socket and the cheekbone: when in england...

no zeppelin echo you hear?
encore! again! again!
it's not o.k. to eat a pig according
to the hebrews of the muslims...
the mandarins will act worse than pigs
that the classical monotheists speak of...
a cat could catch a mouse...
but a cat could not be served a mouse
on a platter... what's that dish called?
the 3 peepsqueaks?
and pork is bad?
pork is just the tip of the iceberg
concerning these omnivores...
at this point... perhaps cannibalism?

islam go back home: check if there are
any mandarins living among you...
pork is bad... pork is bad!
this is not being paranoid this is me being funny!
pork is bad and your pseudo-god
of man-made moral plagiarisms!
*******: snippet the ******* but sure you
hell and bring me the niqab!
no *******? no niqab...

why are you looking at me?
i'm a tired old european...
why should i know what floats the boat
over in h'america?!

this "god" and the "intervention"...
oh i'm pretty sure we made our moral laws...
they weren't exactly to translate as a morality =
claustrophobia...
"god"...
               a belief that the same god
created the physical laws / barriers...
and somehow... decided to... plagiarise, human,
moral laws...
how this "god" decided to become
architect of physical laws...
and the interpolator of morals?
really?

a god that's critical of pork per se:
******* sheep ******* the semites...
but not critical of the mandarin diet?
that's no god; "at least not to me"...
the god that made gravity critical
as immoveable...
but a secondary god that...
was ignorant... of the fact that...
humans already punished stealing
and ******?!
why require a doubled emphasis?!

it's as if "god" made an entrance -
when no pyramids were to be built...
it's not: oh no...
we were never given any a priori parameters!
we were always supposed to sink into:
the thinking of being free...
let's face it...
at best: bad operatics of
madame butterfly at best:
only a soap opera.
Life's a Beach Aug 2015
I find myself confounded
Playing Contortion with my fingers
and thighs

I widen my eyes
and **** in my cheeks
and smile with the grimace of sleek

I take up my neck
Scrape up my hair, hunching my
shoulders, til my collar bone is bare

I squish in my ****
And I hide my arm fat, pronouncing
my ****, by arching my back

but alas

I've shoved my stomach forward
My **** appears flabby, I **** in
the stomach, delay being 'saggy'

again

I've breathed in too far,
now the waist is too large, but outwards
sees the stomach, again, far too large

so I look to my legs

I again perceive dregs, of stretchy
spotty, teenagehood, and the memories
dredge up insecurities

I tiptoe round my vessel with dread

I've thought of every possibility in my head

I've reminded myself of
health
vitality
living

Yet when I stare at the fat
I feel I give myself too much slack
*start sieving out imperfections
The mirror grabs me
And changes fiction of fractions
To made-up fact.
Kayla Eve Aug 28
from chasing butterflies
to chasing *******
that boys could never give to me.

as the years go on
we switch from one poison to another
riding bliss, not bikes
on a path to discovery.
By Jennifersoter Ezewi

As a child, I saw people being criticized because of their various endeavours: the society sees lawyers, doctors and certain white-collar jobs as the only dignified jobs.

Although some lawyers and professors could barely feed then but respected in their professions.

Most youths didn't help matters but thank God, their eyes are open to the beautiful reality. They have gone ahead to garnish most of the jobs they detest to suit themselves, thereby showcasing it with style.

A certain woman called me recently and asked: "what do you do for a living now?" I replied, "I am a sales representative." She started hooting like a shunting trailer. I asked myself one thing, so some people still has this mentality of looking down on people because of their endeavours?

I started representing reputable foreign companies from teenagehood. Travelling from state to state, showcasing some brands wherein business owners welcomes me with open arms. I wasn't doing it for the money then but for the fact that I make great sales for my company even when the products are new. It was fun for me.

Business minded, don't care how some people look at me until I went back to school. As a diploma student, you can hardly catch me in class if the lecturer is not there but nearby, transacting from one company to the other. Until I decided to focus fully at a certain level in my degree days.

I wonder why anyone should be ashamed of his or her endeavour. I also wonder why anyone should mock someone because of his or her endeavour. Success could be very mysterious. The endeavour one left behind today could break another through, tomorrow.

If you are a mechanic, tailor, carpenter, Barrister, doctor, teacher, engineer, contractor, trader, sales representative and etcetera. Be proud of what you do.
Article.
Trod thru three
score orbitz with air
tight (hermetically sealed)
lid on his emotions bare
reft of evincing

concern and/or care
ring forever guarded against
incursions upon fragile as chinaware
psyche foregoing giving
healthy breathing room

never to dare
risk challenging discomfort zones
     skirting, hemming, and hawing
     deliberately averting, shying,
     sidestepping away against

welcoming awkward adolescent
     romantic experience, thus
never playfully trying to ensnare
and/or allowing, enabling,
     and providing gamesome

     opportunities providing willingness
     tubby triangulated ascending
ark hay yick teenagehood,
when deux dozen, foursquare,
nor eighteen candlebox birthdays,

nonetheless hungrily glare
ring with salivating
envy peers that hare
tuff **** did gather
     their rose buds...despite,

     or perhaps because raging
     testosterone overtook coy
     demure lassie tude surrendering,
whence young womanly
     primal urges let machismo insnare

whereat discovering prickly
     "beau" vine love on par
with being a millionaire
despite tiffs that,
     tested one's mettle quickly

     learning the vital lesson
     to turn/beat cutting
edge sword into plowshare
setting the figurative stage,
when feathering one's

nest to prepare
for legal covenant,
     (a death do me part
     binding resolution) endeavoring
     to sustain a lifelong
commitment however difficult and rare.
Tabitha Lee Sep 2021
Ratify my freedom
Let me roam and be free
18 in 297 days and more responsible than most of my age
I already date who I choose
I wear a ring from that one person I chose

Let me be free
I understand my rights
I don't want to be a ward anymore
18 in less than 9 months and still treated like a baby
I already have a plan in place for when I am 18
I and the person of my choosing will go away from here

Release your hold on me, my county in my state
I have studied your laws and taken the classes
I don't want the feeling of being owned anymore
18 in less than 7128 hours and still dont have the same rights as others
I know the rules and I know if I could prove I could be by myself

Resign your case and let me be
I can go on from here
I only have 427680 minutes left in my teenagehood
I can do this without you
I dont need you

Pardon me out of this jail cell of a case
I dont need this anymore
I want to go home again
only 25660800 seconds left
Left till legally you leave me alone
But now you urge me to sign myself back in when my time is up

— The End —