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Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
There is art
In your heart
Painting pictures
When I lay
My head down on your chest

There are songs in your eyes
Singing lullabies
When you hover
Pin me down
With your stare

There is a poem
On the tip
Of your tongue
I taste it
When I kiss you

You are tortured
Stereotyped
My jaded lover
I hear it
When you won't talk
Chucky's Bride Apr 2018
Every weekend, I walk into that one room.
And suddenly,
Flashbacks.
I close my eyes and feel again every memory we've made.
Everything in that room reminds me of you.
And I wonder, for how much longer will I feel this pain in my chest.
For how much longer will I see your cold eyes whenever I close mine.
For how much longer will I end my days tortured by the memories.
I messed up.
I was suppose to be your punishment.
But in the end, I became your prisoner.
Freijah Sel Yna Oct 2018
She's like a glass
with a broken body,
chipped heart by every events
she had gone through.
Cracked, damaged and flawed.
Got hurt trying to fix things,
and bleed trying hold
herself together.
One more gentle touch
to make sure how she was doing?
She'll be shattered
into pieces without knowing.
Cné Aug 2017
The weary mind in turmoil writhes
and slumber will not come.
The moonlight seeps
like latticed withered vines.
I listen to my heartbeat,
in the silence like a drum,
And through my shuttered eyes....
see strange designs.
The night will not take me prisoner,
and bind me to restful sleep.
No dreams, or any respite,
no way, my soul to keep.
Groaning as I turn myself
to rest beleaguered pain,
I stretch to ease
my tortured back and sigh.
Then I fluff my pillow
to deactivate my speeding brain...
Rolling in the covers,
as my body sweats and strains,
seeking to lose myself,
discarding all, my pains

But my eyes are wide...
and still the question..."Why?"
Brains on hyperdrive
CK Baker Oct 2017
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in ****'s hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
***** pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Americans, well, at least in the media believe that the way to change behaviors is to punish either criminally, civilly or socially anyone who doesn't fit the societal norm.

Think about that for a minute,

...when someone is emotionally conflicted to the point that their behavior is no longer considered within a range of acceptance and THEN society decides, or any group, movement, political ideology or party to shun or expel, to incarcerate, admonish and thereby torture an, "emotionally conflicted," soul what you have accomplished by society's response is to create permanent anger and hatred.

Permanent anger and hatred.

American society therefore can be said to relish hatred and permanent anger as a way of life for all of it's citizens since every single person whom is inflicted with pain upon suffering will be assured to continue inflicting whatever pain and suffering they can on everyone else the rest of their life. So your only solution is to remove these souls from society permanently.

Was that the intent?

Is that the goal?

Do we need law, rules and fantasy crimes for every single thing a person says or does?

Is the endgame to remove these from society or to reform them?


Imagine now,

America arrests or imprisons one million people per year for using drugs,

...there are forty million felons alive today.

Wow! Lot of bad guys off the streets huh? Let's put that another way shall we?

America ruins a million people a year.
America creates a million 'soon-to-be' violent felons every year.
"Felons," who were nonviolent before being tortured by society and tortured in prison...forty million angry people live around you right now.

Forty million people!

America must want the nation to fail for every year we destroy a million people just because we want to be able to say at least I am not as bad as that person and point your finger while knowing there is no reason, no civil crime, that warrants bankruptcy, imprisonment, violence, ****, abuse, belittling, shame and banishment just because you personally don't like video games.

...or you don't like gambling,
...or you don't enjoy ***.
...or you don't smoke marijuana,
...or you hate Hollywood liberalism.
...you can't stand alcoholics,
...or you're afraid of the mentally ill.
...or your jealous of the *** you perceive someone having,
...angry because you think you work harder than someone else,
...because you deserve a better life so why not destroy others right?

Hatred as a virtue.

I wonder what our economy would be like if the 'fifty-plus' MILLION alleged criminals had jobs instead of listing away producing the smallest amount of productivity possible because YOU THINK they deserve to have a worse life for acting in a manner you do not agree with PERSONALLY.

That is one out of every seven people in The United States.

Hatred perpetuated.

That is American culture and that is why Black Lives Matter.
Rhiannon Nov 2018
It feels like a dream
Lost in time
Lost in essence
Only to be awoken
By a deep depression

It feels like a motion
Passing through
Drifting slowly
Only to be halted
By a corrupt seizure

It feels like the unknown
Something untouched
With an obscene flavour
Only to be savoured
By an irresistible promise

It feels like a dream
Beacause I'm not awake
I never was
It feels like a dream
Because it is
Nobody Oct 2017
Hey, come on over here baby.
Close enough so I can smell you,
push up against me,
touch my hair, long for me.
Ha, I got you right where I want you,
now look at me with those
googly eyes.
I ******* despise
your gross pervy eyes.
Oh don’t act so surprised,
what you don’t recognize me
with my disguise?
It’s too late for you anyways,
you didn't even notice I slashed open your vein.
Now It’s your turn to be tortured for days,
I’m gonna ******* open with your own blade.
Flay you alive, it’s my turn to play.
Slowly rip out your intestines to burn,
make you shriek as I pick open your brain.
  Nail you by your **** to the wall,
as you whimper ‘please **** me’.
Staple your lips closed,
to quiet your screams.
Cut at your heart,
pick out your eyes;
laugh as you suffer,
while you try and weep.
Then you’ll be wishing to god,
you never laid your *******
eyes on me.
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, wars and loves and all that’s tragic.


A Father’s ****, an Uncle’s hate, a puzzling labyrinth, through the gate,

A Cretan born, another covered, a starry symbol, placed in the cupboard,

Special place, where heroes meet him, mindless creature, murderous ******,

South in winter, man below with a bull above, placed in the heavens by two father's love,

A strangeness here, the seat of trade, in forbidden tryst, a beast was made,

Man of blood, tortured soul, stalks the maze, that stalks the pole,

"Stranger still, this wild pattern, revolving Seventh, Circle of Saturn?"

Unholy corridors made of granites, trace out the movements of the planets!

Life of horror, a soul of pain, terrorizing, with no refrain,

Smells their fear, scents of sin, raging actions, threshing men;

“They call me Moloch! They call me Baal! Tear your body, festoon my hall!”

In trepidation, to gatekeeper sent, a ****** start, for your punishment;

“I collect the hearts, I eat the eyes, I eat the liver, before he dies!”

Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, life and death and all that’s tragic.
The Minotaur is the constellations of Orion with the "bull's head," or "bull at/as his head," -Taurus inside the, "labyrinth," created by drawing the lines of the celestial motions, planets and stars, inside a circle or spherical graph. The Bull is the Apis Sun God of Egypt and the Man is the Orion-Aryan symbol of the harvest in Sumer-Persia therefore Minos was the ruler who combined the two kingdoms into one. Most likely the second to do so since Narmer/****** was his father.

In Greek myth each myth contains three celestial items found in the heavens and they are combined in story as, "Heteroclitic," according to Plato meaning assigned by the author as the author sees fit to tell it. In short, the myth is put together by the teller in any way in which the storyteller wishes to convey it.
English Jam May 2018
It's........it....'...s..........it's......it.........IT'S.......­..too......tooolate.......too...late

A delicately placed glove upon a hand, mock-gentle and pale
Marks his return
Emerging from the shell of feedback and tortured sounds

Carelessly shattering the eyes of doubters, until they softly thrash for mercy, wailing in an unearthly manner

Taking violent pleasure in crumbling love to a rubble, making the remains march to his fascist regime, his sexualised abuse, his blistering dictatorship

His tongue is dry, his jawline jagged like a ***** of fresh metal, his fingers slender and spidery
  
He strides silently, yet none can miss it, seizing attention in a
heil-ish fascion

His iron grip dredges my thoughts, infecting my hopes with his overflowing venom

He thrusts his black ink that peppers my skin with thousands upon thousands of dots, encasing my body, filling my mouth, prohibiting my free will

Twisting me to spiral downwards into his imagination
I descend into the darkness

The darkness ripped from my most volatile, filthy nightmares

The darkness that laces the web of black holes, that decimates any shred of light it can find, deliberately, harshly

My centre of gravity follows him to the sewers of the abyss, a cesspool of pain and stylised sexuality undiscovered by light

Everything starts swirling around him, revolving as though he is a star and all else is the merest of planets that are his to command

I'm going down now
I'm going down
I'm going dow-
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
Who believes what we’ve heard and seen?
    Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
    a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
    nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
    a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
    We looked down on him, thought he was ****.

But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
    our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
    that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
    that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
    Through his bruises we get healed.
We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.
    We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,
    on him, on him.

He was beaten, he was tortured,
    but he didn’t say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
    and like a sheep being sheared,
    he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
    and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
    beaten ****** for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
    threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he’d never hurt a soul
    or said one word that wasn’t true.
Still, it’s what God had in mind all along,
    to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
    so that he’d see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
    And God’s plan will deeply prosper through him.

Out of that terrible travail of soul,
    he’ll see that it’s worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
    will make many “righteous ones,”
    as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I’ll reward him extravagantly—
    the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn’t flinch,
    because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
    he took up the cause of all the black sheep.


~ Eugene Peterson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZ47-KYUdpE
Jeff Gaines Apr 2018
She thinks that she is only silver.
Second place, forever and again.
But this girl ... she is so, so much more.
She is my dear, dearest friend.

Her soul, while brighter than the sun,
is tortured by confusion and things in her past ...
lofty goals that would thwart even the toughest
and a lifestyle going so fast.

Courageous ... and meek.
A warrior ... and a flower ... all at the same time.
Legions of followers, those who look up ... never to see,
the little girl who roams in her mind.

She will get were she is aiming ...
my heart believes in her so.
She is strong, stubborn ... so very brave,
and this child inside her grows.

Now distant, I'll still watch her life
unfold

from this abyss, for reasons that may forever remain
untold.

She is far more valuable than any silver, precious gems ...
yes, even gold.

No object d'art or more costly antiquity ...
has ever,
ever been sold.

I only wish that I could have somehow ...
somehow
made her see ...
that as my friend ... she was so, so much more ...
than merely silver to me.
What can ya do ... What can ya say ... when someone just doesn't "get it"?
Caroline Jun 2017
“The eagles should have been far seeing”
Was the last apocalyptic note she wrote
In her broken and trembling hand
Words that I tried so hard to understand.

What eagles? What sight could they have beheld
That might have brought back to her
A reasoned light to illustrate
Something other than her tortured mind
Worn fragile and thin by monsters,
Who starved, and beat, and *****,
A child.

Or would these brave and noble birds
Have donned armor in her defense
Flocking in hordes to peck out the eyes
Of those so vile that they would welcome,
Just to destroy,
The spirit of a foster child.  

Or did these eagles nest inside her ****,
As like a sweet salvation,
My spirit bloomed
For them to lift on soaring, golden wings,
And place gently in her arms,
A child more precious than the moon,
And all its diamond light,
Since in my tiny form she found the strength
To chase away the memories;
To hold back a schizophrenic night.

So, it was these birds who were short of sight,
Who gave a gift and flew away.
Abandoned in her time of need,
Her mind crumbling from the weight
Of something from which she was never, truly free,
And though we tried so hard to save her,
No one was strong enough;
Not even me.
Eight years ago, I lost my mom to suicide. After a long battle with a form of late-onset schizophrenia, and also, the effects of a terrible childhood, I feel like she just couldn't fight anymore. The last note she wrote to me didn't make much sense on the surface, but I find deeper meaning in it. She loved me more than all the stars in the sky and I miss her just as much.
Egaeus Thompson Feb 2013
The landlord rented his space.

The landlord became suspicious.

He received complaints from other tenants,
Within a couple of weeks about loud music
And laughter coming from her room.
Banned from having friends in their home,
People would arrive in a van nightly during the summer.
The details of which emerged in the trial of insurance businessman,
Who was accused of helping her,
Without their knowledge.

She accused the abuse after a plea.
His mercy,
Her punishment.
‘The past is still very much a reality’ she whimpered.

Forced to watch for five months,
The wolf spoke as she faced the hearing
Without a translator.
They are forbidden to speak.


For her first 23 years, she was tortured.


Anti-social behaviour is having more than two people in his head,
Playing music so loud,
That it can be heard,
Outside of him.

The only person to feel the same resigned.
The landlord asked the hound to verify the affair.
He handed two leather-bound volumes containing a map of the marks.
It was on that day,
The landlord took the decision to leave seriously.
Once known,
He made the claim and gave no hint as to the tenant’s identity.

Up for a chance to win, We wish you safe travels.
I’m fine, thanks…  

                                                      ­                                                                 ­                       
Is that what you truly mean?

Or do you mean
I’m tired…
I’m lonely…
I’m hurt…
Confused. Bewildered. Angered.
Disillusioned…
Skeptical…

Or maybe
I’m distressed…
I’m woeful…
I’m pathetic…
Lost. Vulnerable.
Infuriated…
Empty. Lifeless. Crushed. Tortured. Dejected. Offended. Afflicted.
Desolate. Desperate. Rejected. Heartbroken…
Tormented…
I’m scared…
I’m disgruntled…
Embarrassed…
Weak. Dreadful. Hungry. Aggravated.
Guilty… Shameful… Frustrated… Jealous… Horrified…
Overwhelmed…
Devastated…

Defeated…



Is fine ever what you truly mean?
Or is it a cover?
Lizzy May 2015
Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.

This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.

Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?

But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.

Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.

Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.

No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting me need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.

You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.

You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.

I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
jonni inferno Feb 2018
follow me
if you can
thru tortured paths
and wintered lands
where the sun is lost
the moon unknown
beyond this dark
encroaching gloam

follow me
if you dare
where voices speak
in whispered layers
of external wars
undeclared
where twisting turning
bodies play
on silken sails
on captured waves

follow me
if you would know
where silver rivers
sometimes flow
and flying angels
falling lay
sweetly laughing
in their gentle way

follow me
if you wish
and play in childhood's
autumn mist
where paper dragons
fill the air
and broken hearts
still beating share
a love for passion's
written snare

follow me
and I will show
how wounded heart
now mended grows
where many paths
once hidden glow
and light the way
to where I go


.
http://oi61.tinypic.com/dc573k.jpg
.
.
added link to pic/poem
Paul Mackenzie May 2010
1.

A broken path of pleasure,
Confronts my waking mind,
Skeletons line the carpet,
The path I seek to bind.

2.

Uncertainty surrounds me,
But so the way of life,
An infant artist,
An unconscious exuberance,
The perverse I secretly entice.

3.

Duel opposition's approach in unison,
Fighting for peace with each,
The true anima hides beneath the blood,
Narcissistic emotions ***** on a beach.

4.

Forbidden in reality,
The dark caves of the primal soul,
The lost murmurs of effrontery,
Tortured desires repressed explode.
                                            
………………………………………………………
Kara Jean Jun 2016
His heart a setting desire
A holy man on fire
The ashes from his clothes hover overhead
Tarnished dry rain attached to eyelids
Blinding the ones admiring
He could've been loved
His demons were not friends
A lighter was no different
He screams in tortured relief
His body empty caressing the ground
A entity formed through headaches and torn garments
His need for her was never finished
Hannah Sep 2017
Entry ~
You were the first man that ever broke my heart. It was the day I was born. You held me in your arms and made me a promise that would rip us both apart. You promised to love me unconditionally from the start. But time passed and over the years those words faded from your heart. In the presence of a war when you had one foot out the door. There are vacancies in my memories where a father should have played a part. Like teaching me to drive a car, or telling me don't believe boys that say I love you from the start. Instead, I looked at every boy with tears in my eyes and willingly accepted every single lie, thinking maybe if I part my thighs they'll learn to love how broken I am inside, but they never do. Just like you they leave without a single clue and I'm left alone, used, wishing my daddy would have loved me too. And I'm not writing this to blame you, or break you, or tell you I hate you. I've made mistakes too. Ones deeply rooted in my relationship with you. And I get that maybe you didn't have a clue that your daughter was struggling in the world without you. But I relied on you to set the standard for boys I would let into my heart. By the time I was sixteen, I felt like a tortured piece of art. I learned to love myself of course. Over the years of ripping myself apart I learned to chart the darkness in my own heart. I don't blame you anymore for my broken parts. I'm healed from being angry at you. I'm writing this to tell you I'm sorry for failing you, and I'm sorry you failed me too.
The apple never does fall too far from the tree.
**
Lizzy Oct 2014
i need some company
im lonely and im sad
i feel like a burden
and my mind is tortured daily

im sorry im a clingy ******* mess
but i still feel like im drowning
im still afraid im gonna sink
please dont let me fall

please hold me
please dont let me go
i need your arms wrapped around me
i need to know
whatever man
The pain seeps deep into my bones
The sharp nails scratch at my mind
Taunting me
Torturing me
I don’t even understand what I can’t escape
My soul screams
Who have I become?
Why am I here?
Am I truly real?
Or is this all just an illusion
I will never be able to awaken from
I shake and try to piece things together
But everytime my mind sinks in too deep, my lungs begin to suffocate
And my hands start to sweat
How I hate being left to myself, it seems I can never be alone to think
I’m exhausted
Make. It. Stop.
I’m not sure if this even makes sense to anyone, but right now this makes perfect sense to me.
Andrew Jan 2018
I'm losing hair
As I'm losing air
For what isn't fair
In your electric chair

You strapped me in
And kept me waiting
Your craft of sin
Got me hating
The pain on the other end of the line
The pain that tortured away my time

You're an executioner
With the flesh of Lucifer
And the keen nose of a hellhound
So you can bury me in the ground
And return as you like
To shock me back to life

I feel your electric pain
In a lightning rain
I am reborn
And you're sitting there
I begin to mourn
The fact that you don't care
My death is repeated
After I am defeated

I feel the pain
And need to gain
Someone to share it with
Instead of your electric chair grip
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