Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
erin kingham Sep 2014
A burden is the depression settling in around you like a rain cloud over only your head.
Walking from place to place soaking wet from the storm.
You are cold, you are sick, you are not okay.

2. A burden is the anxiety shaking your body until you feel like you might burst at the seams.
People can see that your hands won't stay still, and they stare.
You are trembling, you are scared, you are not okay.

3. A burden is the rumors your "best friend" has spread around the whole freshman class.
Secrets exposed to people you don't even know.
You are found out, you are alone, you are not okay.

4. A burden is the thought of suicide bouncing around your head.
The thought of death so good, yet so bad.
You are confused, you are conflicted, you are not okay.

5. A burden is reaching out for help and being punished.
No longer allowed to talk to those they told you would help.
You are lost, you are unprotected, you are not okay.

6. A burden is not a student who has experienced 1-5.
A  student who yearns so much to get better, and just keeps getting pushed down.
A student who is terrified, who is lonely, who is not okay

7. You called yourself a mental health professional.
But 8. would never deal with this student yourself.
and 9. called her a burden to the entire campus.

But the campus is unaffected, the campus is stable, and the campus is okay.

So did you mean the campus would be better off without me?

Or that you would?
True story about the counselor at my college.
Saumya Jul 2018
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit graciously on silence's table,
And study my evolved, yet un-evolved self,
Undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
By world's brightest gulf.
...and smile back, as I watch myself.


If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit cozily on peace's table,
And watch my wounded, yet un-wounded self,
Un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
By world's sorry self
...and smile back, as I watch myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit calmly on agony's table,
And observe my painful, yet not too painful self,
Unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
By world's weirdest self,
...and smile back, as I watch myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit gladly on glee's table,
With my eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
Unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
By world's unrequited self.
...and grin back, at myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
Twill indeed be a blessed, contending  miracle,
As that's when I could pat & greet myself,
In real, In real, In real!
And make this fact to myself perceivable,
That Our world may sure often demand struggles,
And our mere existence in it,
May just be negligible,
But we never gotta forget
To stay hopeful, smile and giggle at ourselves,
No matter how hard,
or harder are the struggles,
As that's the precious fuel,
That can truly cause miracles,
In a world,
Often so obsessed with struggles!

And then with a grin,
A sparkling hope within,
I'll bid myself,
A sweet, serene,
farewell.
Just a thought :)
All your feedbacks are most welcome :)
Austin Barker May 2017
Her
Her laugh
gives a high that lasts
her smile makes this beast go wild
her kind words quite the whispers
the world disappears
when its me and her
she is playful
and to her I'm always loyal
for her ill go through trial
just to make her smile
ill fight all her fights
no matter day or night im there
i hold her when she is scared
even with the little things i care
her scars are just of who she is
and she has a cute little kid
i wanna be his daddy
if she would have me
she makes me fly again
for her i would give everything again and again
everyday she has made
she is mine
and man is she fine
an Angel unaffected by time
I'm her's forevermore
she holds the key to my hearts door
i didn't have to give her a tour of me
she already new me
Saumya Aug 2018
If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.


if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending  miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!

And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
apricot Sep 2018
as you gazed upon the roses, beautiful, blooming wide,
exposing themselves for your eyes alone, petals scattered,
you spoke to me. unsatisfied.
strewed their precious worth across the dull pavement,
i began to wonder.
if i truly burst open for you, would i suffer the same fate?
if each of my petals shed away, one by one, revealing a bare stem, would my beauty remain?
every rose wilts with time.

as you looked upon the sunset, magnificent, drooping low,
dipping beneath the horizon with a final display of light, heavens shimmering,
you spoke to me. unaffected.
swiped the bristles of a blackened brush across its fading glow,
i cannot help but wonder.
if i began to fade, would your starlight illuminate my beaten path?
or would you only cast a sheet of unforgiving darkness over my vibrant, faltering hues?
every sunset fades to night.
Go easy on me, if you could.
I'm not a native English speaker, and I sure am not much of a poet.
I'm on a train.

One of those red ones with black trimmed windows you can imagine rolling through the suburbs on the way to NYC. Not a subway car but a classier vintage with proper rows of cushioned seats and a lever to pull if there is an emergency. There are sparse shrubberies on one side of the tracks and the ocean on the other. Young trees and bushes stroll by.  A little wind is pushing off the ocean, massaging the car ever so gently back and forth as we move along. A gentle click-clack is on the tips of our ears.

We got on together. I hadn't known you for very long but the connection was stronger than anything I had ever felt or have since. You practically sat on top of me for the first few miles. Couldn't keep your hands off me,  staring in my eyes like you were searching for something lost but you couldn't remember what. The edges of your lips turned upwards permanently as if you were always at the verge of a laugh. You interlaced my fingers with yours and held on like you would be ripped away if your grip loosened for even a second. Slender fingers holding so tightly that they were becoming red.

You were excited to to be riding with me, about where we were going and all the things we would do when we got there. I would see you peer out of the corner of your eye, then lean over to brush your soft cheek against my budding stubble. Kissing and gently biting my lips insatiably. The suns rays coming in at an angle and lighting up your perfect smile and dimple.

I had to remind you we were in public.

I was lost in your blonde curls and the incense of your neck. I had fallen incredibly hard and so fast that my face hurt from smiling and my heart beat with vibrations I had never known. Not even a whiff of anxiety or neurosis. Some of the best memories of my life, as fleeting as they turned out to be.

I yawned and you put your finger in my mouth. I bent over to tie my shoe and you would poke my **** and laugh with your own reflection in the window, like this was the first and best joke of all time. Maybe it was and maybe it is.

The waiter came and informed us that a thing called "the bar car" existed. We both jumped at the idea. I didn't exactly notice at the time, during our excitement, but that's when the train started going faster and everything out the windows began to blur.

The bar car was a wild ride and we took advantage of our lo'cal. All kinds of fine wine, liquors and illicit substances were available. We tried them all. You were beautiful, your laugh infecting everyone around you, I was charming and held a captive audience.   It was a dark, loud and glorious blur. We were the life of the party and it chugged on till dawn.

We woke up in our seats, disheveled and discombobulated. It was dark out already. Did we sleep through the entire day? The train was slowing down, maybe approaching a station. The party was amazing but we were certainly paying the price for the black out. You moved over to the seat across from me to have some more space and lay down. I saw myself in the reflection. My hat, charm and smile from the night before had vanished. I must have left them in the bar car the night before.
      You had changed, beauty uninterrupted but different somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it. Irritated maybe? I invited you to cuddle and battle the hangover together but you ignored me. Like you couldn't hear me or didn't want to. I decided to let you be.

I got up to use the bathroom and thought I would go look for my scattered belongings. Maybe I could find a scrap of leftover dignity while you rested. I inquired to the conductor who directed me to the bartender in the bar car. He hadn't changed a bit, somehow untouched and unaffected by last nights antics that had effected me so dramatically.  Same black suspenders and white pressed shirt with impeccably slicked hair. I asked him what happened and if I had an open tab. While slowly polishing a rocks glass he looked up and made eye contact for a split second before looking away.
He said:  "Oh the bar car takes its toll. In the end we all end up paying one way or another". I still don't know what he meant by that or if he knew.
      I asked him if he found my hat and he said he would check the camera. We walked in to a small back room, while he was reviewing the tape, over his shoulder I noticed a tragedy.

We were drunk. I was going on to a group of new friends on one side of the bar, they were hanging on my words and I was eagerly explaining whatever nonsense they were drooling over. You were in the corner wearing that red dress I love, with your hair up in a tight bun. A few curls had escaped and brushed your high cheekbones, a thin line of pearls dancing delicately across your perfectly symmetrical collar. You were stunning and inebriated, swaying with each bump and motion of the train. A man wearing my hat put his hand on your side to keep you from swaying over and then he left it there.
I took a sharp breath.

It looked like you put your hand on his hand to move it but then it stayed and you both swayed together. As the air left my lungs and the blood drained out of my face I watched your lips touch the strangers. A small piece of my soul slipped away forever. I couldn't watch any further. When I asked the bartender how long it went on he fidgeted for a moment and uncomfortably muttered "quite some time". I never found my hat or the other part of me that left that day.  

The train slowed. I walked to the back, as far away from you as I could get, in utter disbelief. How could you? I thought to myself.
I mourned the loss of the you as I knew you yesterday, quietly and to myself. A tear  escaped my eye and rolled down my now fully formed stubble as I fell in to a random seat in mild shock. There were a few passengers back there so I had to pull together relatively quickly. After gaining some composure I knew it was time to get off. I knew we could never get back to yesterday morning though I would have said or done anything to do so.

The train had stopped. I went back to my seat and you were sleeping. I took my coat and gathered my things. The conductor looked at me confused as to why I would leave something so magnificent, I assume he had no idea what had transpired.   

I walked to the rear of the car and slid the door open slower than required. I stepped to the stairs and put one foot down on the step and the other on the ground. I stopped, rooted with my hand on the railing, lingering between two very different paths.
     I knew that it was time to get off, I knew this was the sensible thing to do, that I couldn't get past this offense regardless of how I had felt earlier the day before. The whistle screamed from the locomotive. The conductor looked at me and shook his head, I'm not sure if he was trying to tell me to stay or go but a decision had to be made.

The train lurched forward and I watched as the station slip away slowly. I sat in between the cars for a while and watched the ocean and birds. With a heavy heart and shoes I walked back to my seat. You were waiting. Crying. You knew. The bartender had told you. You didn't mean do do it, didn't realize what you were doing and thought it was me. He was wearing my hat and the whole world was blurry and dark.

I believed you. Self anguish mixed with alcohol was dripping from your pores. I knew you didn't mean it and were drunk, but could I ever forgive you or trust you again?

I loved you still.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection, a weaker version of myself looked back. As if an invisible chip in my teeth had developed and my shoulders lowered. The charming, confident man from the bar car the day before had been replaced. Something was off but not enough for anyone else to notice, just enough to know a change has happened.
       The train started to pick up speed again as we distanced ourselves from the station.  I second guessed my decision to stay but I didn't look back.

I found the man with my hat and punished him with a few blows in the dark. He knew he ****** up, apologized and took the beating like a man. I never got the hat back.

The engineer announced that we would be going through a tunnel soon and to turn on our lights and keep our hands in the windows.

It would be dark.  

We stayed away from the bar car for a while but the draw was irresistible. After a few hours we were there again but you never left my side.  Then you did. I was looking for you but you would disappear and not answer me when I called you name. The tunnel went deeper and darker and I didn't know where you were and I suspected you liked it that way. The train began to slow down again as we exited the tunnel.

I finally found you back at our seat, you had moved one row away from me. I asked you to come back, tried to hold your hands but you pulled away with vehemence. When I came back from the bathroom you had moved another row farther.
I knew I was losing you.
I begged you to return but you told me calmly that it was time for you to get off. At some point in the tunnel you had decided that you didn't want to go anymore . Your mind was made. You were going to catch another train at the next station.

When the train stopped I thought for sure you would reconsider but you didn't. Didn't even give it a thought. You just grabbed your coat and hat with one big bag under your arm. You kissed me on the cheek like a french stranger and were off. Going somewhere else on a different train. Just like that.

I rode the rails for quite some time by myself , many people getting on and getting off, passing me by. Every once in a while I would think I saw you at a station or in a **** though the window of another train. I often thought I could smell you but when I breathed deeper it was always gone. A ghost dancing on the edge of my senses.

A young girl in a headband got on the train. She was listening to headphones and dancing to herself as she bobbed along. She sat down in the seat next to me flashing a smile. She had a wedding ring on and I dismissed her immediately.  She didn't move from the seat or stop glancing my way. Eventually she confessed that she wanted to talk. I told her I wasn't interested but she persisted.  I hadn't talked to anyone on the train for quite some time and after some more mild persistence, I gave in.

We had a lot in common. We were both riding alone, desperately wanted attention and were thrilled to receive some.  After a few laughs she slid her hand in to mine and interlaced her fingers. I left it there. It was warm, comforting and wrong. She was married but I had been riding alone so long it felt good to have some company. She stayed and we talked. She was broken and I had a knack for fixing things. After a few hours of dramatic conversation I fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.

When I woke up  the train was flying up the track on the side of a mountain. Trees and rocks were a blur of green and grey. The engineer must be trying to make up for lost time I thought to myself.

The girl was asleep with her head on my lap. I looked down at her hand and the rings were gone. I woke her briefly to ask where they went. She said she didn't need them anymore and had thrown  them out the window.  She could of sold them, I said, but she said she just wanted them gone so she could be mine and fell back to sleep.  All of a sudden I couldn't breath. This train was roaring down the tracks, the once gentle click clack had become a loud hum. Suddenly too loud. This girl in my lap who had just gotten on the train wanted to stay. I considered her for a while as she looked up at me with big blue eyes, shining and wet, like a puppy in the shelter, terrified of rejection and desperate to be adopted.

At the peak of the mountain, just when the train began to even out, you waltzed back in to the car with a champagne flute in one hand and your bag in the other.

I don't know when or where you got back on, must have been a few stations ago when I stopped looking for you. Maybe you were wearing a disguise, who knows what you had been up to while you were gone. I'm not sure how long you were away but it was quite some time. That you had been through something was obvious, a new wrinkle had formed on your brow and you're once confident stride had changed to a cautious stroll. What actually happened out there I don't know.  I never asked and I don't want answers.

You looked at me and smiled. It was good to see that smile, like sun on my face on a brisk day.  You took a step toward me and then I looked down in my lap at the girl at the same time you did. I looked up. You and your smile were gone.

Everything I had begun to feel for this broken, head banded girl in my lap dried up like a puddle in  the dessert.  I quietly and gently nudged her awake and told her I had to use the bathroom. She put her head down on my coat and fell back into what ever trance she had been in, eyelids gently fluttering, eyes searching beneath them for what I would never give her.

I dashed up the isle and threw open the door, almost shattering the glass. The conductor glared at me and rolled his eyes as I barged past to the space between the cars.

There you were. Standing on the stairs with your head out the opening. The wind was blowing your perfectly formed curls around your head like a blonde explosion of familiarity. I yelled your name and you dove in to me. My senses erupted, my mind went numb as the train was nearing another station and I inhaled your essence greedily.

We moved to another car. I abandoned my coat with the married girl and never looked back. I hope she found what she was looking for. I  never could have been the answer she was so desperately seeking but I know I  helped steer her towards it.

You told me you had encountered some other people out there on the rails and they had reminded you of what we had when we first left the station. I never forgot.  

The train started to rock and get going again. We were back in the bar car and starting to brown out. We had to get off of this train right ******* now. In a desperate moment we looked at each other and put our hands, together, on the emergency brake cord. I looked in your eyes with your hand on top of mine. You kissed me while yanking down on the cord. Time slowed, the breaks squealed and everything exploded throwing luggage, people and the entire contents of the bar car in to a nondiscriminatory chaos . We got up off the ground, ran to the end of the car, dove off the side in to a soft patch of grass and rolled down a small incline. We watched as the conductor sifted through  the mess and interrogated the passengers, trying to ferret out the party responsible for pulling the brake. He spotted us off the side of the tracks and shook his fist while shouting every conceivable obscenity combination.

We laughed, held each other in the grass and kissed deeply.

We watched the train pick up speed and disappear in to the hills as relief spread over me.

You interlaced your fingers in to mine and we both looked out to where the tracks disappeared into the horizon, wondering how far of a walk it was to the next station.
Io Jun 9
You watch the world go by, contempt
You need not change a thing

Warm, yet distant from the heat
Watching, unaffected and not affecting, you smile
You could watch the world burn and the heat wouldn’t touch you
You’ve already faded, you’re jaded, scars lost long ago

You’re an Orange Outsider
Insusceptible, unimpressionable
You’ve surrendered, yet you continue on
Looking on
Watching waves crash
With a worn smile
and dulled Orange eyes
Curly hair
Eric Babsy Sep 2018
I have the shakes.
How can I keep things straight?
There something important I must do.
How can I deal with it when I am stuck on you?

There are many ways to die.
I could end up where the shadows lie.
Waiting and asking “will I not die?”.
Another drink and I am closer to asking why.

Air is swirling around me.
Taking in all sounds around me.
Can I do the unexpected?
Then again, will I end up resurrected?

Will I end up subjected?
In a world so unaffected.
Can I do something I only dreamed?
In a world so dangerous, it would seem.

Will I end up causing too much strife?
Then again will I end my life?
Your dreams are more important it would seem.
I will try to have more self esteem.

Can I do the unseen?
In a world where we are chasing our dream.
Will I end up subjected?
In a world so unaffected.

Our dreams shape us.
So, unaffected they will not make us.
We are sharing our dreams.
In a world where nothing is what it seems.
Lou Vaughn Sep 2018
Like a sinful seduction, I slip off the edge of sleep,
my eyes are drawn to the darkest shadows of my room... kinetically searching...
I seem to penetrate them, my mind breathes life into them,
they begin to stir and morph into the preludes to my peculiar dreams,
bizarre at first until inevitably familiar,
as if I had lived them indefinite times in the past... and infinite times in the future... remembering... becoming... unfiltered and unaffected...
my subconscious is my truth, awakened by my dreams.
I long to remain lost in this ethereal bliss.
Luz Hanaii Feb 2
Balance Test:
To be unaffected by the opinions
and well meaning offers of guidance
of others, is the result of maturity.
I didn't say I passed.
Martial Teacher Nov 2018
She's fiery
Drifting along the wind
Turning the hearts of men into
Frenzied fantasies
The wind brought the beauty
Disappearing as fast as she appeared
Peering into the world
Carefree like the white swan
Her hair billowed like crimson plasma
Static glowing along purple radiance
Sparkling eyes like hypnotic hues.

Transcendence bestowed upon the beauty
Aromatic blazing into the amative nature
Syringa placed amidst the billowing crimson
Intense heat along the azure winds
Otherworldly unaffected from the
Contamination of the murky spirit
She's fiery
Drifting along the wind
Cleansing those with illness
Jade hands shimmer with golden light
With a pure heart caring for those
Boundless love for the inhabitants.


She's fiery
Unaffected by the contamination
Of the murky spirit
Unaware that
Kindness is not always mercy
Upon the jade hands golden light
A black dagger dipped in poison
Found its way pierced through her pure heart
Her beauty was transcendent
Jealousy contaminated murky spirits
She was bestowed upon the beauty of immortals
And her heart is pure of dusk erosion.
"there she goes my beautiful world"
Struggling to formulate a sentence,
I lie bitter and confused.
My beautiful world.

What brought me back from the view,
A long gaze down to nothing.
The last thread,
The only tether.

I let her slip,
And in all my honesty i fail to bring the words,
My beautiful world.

There she goes,
I lay here and i ponder,
But produce i cannot do.
Words cannot cary,
My beautiful world escapes me.

I am sorry.

Blank and nondescript,
Stoic, unaffected.
I cannot hide it.

I love her

I miss her

She loves him

I miss her

There she goes my beauriful world.
Nick cave
kaycog May 12
you can train the trees he says
as a pair of garden shears take hold
and snip the lengthened limbs that stretch toward the house
guided not in
but up and out
the branches will follow
and I stand eyes fixed up from below
arms raised high above my head to steady the ladder
his feet find balance in
and I wonder
what would have happened if those synapses hadn’t been pruned?
would the evergreens still grow or reach new heights
had they not been subject to their sapling surroundings and watchful eye of the gardener?
what would I become if left up to nature's desire
unaffected by the calculated, planned attendance of the caretaker
would that fate still take root?
The Misconstrued Nov 2018
In a world where I need love,
Almost every person hides behind these elusive clouds,
And so every cigarette puff calms me down - temporarily,
Every drink drowns my sorrows - temporarily,
Every drag of a joint helps me escape - temporarily,
Every snort of ******* gives me a rush - temporarily,
My compulsive need to meet people to not feel so lonely - temporarily,
Almost every ****** encounter a vain attempt to fill a void,
All these medications failing to shut out these voices,
Don't you see I wasn't meant to be this way?
I look strong, unaffected by anything, such a rebel,
But it has been everyone of you that stripped down the confidence off me,
I'm slipping and people can see,
Yet there's no one willing to save me.
At the crossroads of death and insanity,
Hopefully, temporarily?
Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp,  amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change

At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...
Revised repost
Anya Sep 2018
Come one, come all!
And welcome
To the shield shop!

Here, we supply anything
And everything
You need
For a custom made
Shield

Now, this isn’t your typical
Iron or bronze,
No,
the shields here are much
Sturdier
And not for physical
Affronts

We could provide you
A block of wood
For dense ness
Thoroughly not
Understanding
Social cues
Good,
For keeping away
Verbal bullies
Or,
Romantic attention

A shard of ice for coolness
Unaffected
Untouched
Abve the crowd
Keeping your cool to the point
That no one approaches you
No one reads you
Makes you seem impenetrable

A flame for blazing confidence
Attracts people
But also scares them away
So they,
Maintain a distance
From your
Vulnerabilities
Whose existence
They may not be aware of

A kitten for innocence
Either,
Giving others the desire
To protect you
Or they just pass you by

We have all these
And so much more!
So why don’t you come and
See
Which one works for
You!
This is an idea I’m playing with, I’m not completely sure if it’s true. Feel free to comment or message if you have an opinion.
You’re so naive, so hopeless

Thinking everyone is the same

Thinking everyone will care



You’re so stupid, so gullible

You think they won’t forget

You think they will always remember you

Even when you’re not around



But you’re wrong

They’re not

  

When you alone, you remember them

When you busy, you miss them

When they around, you cherish them

When they busy, they forget you

When you around, they ditch you

When they together, they make you feel alone



You slips away, they didn’t notice

They slips away, you’re restless

You try to reach, they didn’t assume

They try to reach, you’re ecstatic

Clearly, even the blind know you’re left one-sided



The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart

You put up a smirk and be unbreakable

The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart

You put up a smile and be unaffected

The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart
With love, Andhizky
D Letwixt Oct 2018
far over a long stretch of dense wood
the earth casts downward to reveal a basin of still water
shaded slightly by the swaying leaves
and a crouched figure

into her reflection gaze, those near-crying eyes
wavering slightly as little mists catch evening light
odd shimmering shapes mists make:
like a lock of golden hair
and a tear, falling slowly downward
which just rests placidly on the water's surface
as to not disturb its holy silence

no matter how many tears she cried
no tear could ripple that still pool of glassy water
from which her reflection looked-- almost mockingly
if something can mock wholly unintentionally

some things have to stay unaffected
even if it's uncomfortable for a time.
Jessica Dec 2018
From this angle, the mountain
In all it's snow laden glory-
Invites teenage memory.

From the window
Of my old room
There was the reverie
The glowing embers
Of pink and warmth
The beginning of my story-
And now,
As I gaze upon that same view
My heart yearns
With those same feelings
Glossed over with the somber
Addition of age
Sizzling with history-
That peak still lives
Unaffected
By my nostalgia.
Yenson 9h
When the storm of Hades blow
and the roads are dug up by gargoyles
and the tempest shouts like the banshees
the wise traveler finds shelter in vapor of light
far from the acidic dusts of disintegrating ghouls
condemned to pollute the pious and unaffected sages
angels fear not fools paths but knows wisdom errs always
they will spew to irritate but who hears the wounded cry of wraiths
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2018
~for Henessy J. Beltre and all the new Observers of the Universe~*



“my goal is to develop a more personalized meaning of beauty, love, and self actualization through my writing.” Henessy J. Beltre


each word, chewed upon,
individually and collectively
as I drive from Roma to Firenze,
long drives in unfamiliar scapes, olive shaded greens,
umbrella trees, and thin thickets of the vineyards planted
in the years notated as B.C.

are life pauses, asking, admission to the clarifying blankness
that commands rifle shots of riflessione (reflection)

your words, goading foaling, are all our goals,
succinctly refined,  for doesn’t every and each poem
asks through our eyes what are the visions of
love and beauty that is the actuality we ceaseless seek

avanti signorina!

unleash the wild words that will make your mission
burst from the ancient to the revitalizing, knowing this,
that the universals you seek to dress yourself within,
to share here, to create, to *actualize,

are products of your truths

be unaffected by stale mores, conventions dictates,
spill truths, soiled and used, cherished and recycled in
new ways, so that each of one of us
blesses you with one word:

exactly!



31/10/18

on the autoroute to Firenze

read https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2793919/universe/
Johnny walker Mar 22
Just heard today of a bomb being found In the post office In Ireland bound for London
Is this now that we are going to be hit bombing campaign again here England
by these **** of the earth that crawled out there holes so IRA they are
disgusting they who **** kids with there cowardly bombs
they who can sleep In there bed at night unaffected by the screams of the children they
****  
Innocent they've have murdered with there bombs Irish Republic Army they are no Army they **** bags
murderers
who bomb pubs bombs underneath cars burst Into home and shoot people In front of there
families
I am still haunted by visions of two off duty
Soldiers dragged from their car by a bloodthirsty  crowd and then murdered by the so-called
IRA
tv Images still after all these years stuck forever In my mind and here they creeping out the woodwork again to commit their evil acts If what I write offends anyone such as the so called IRA then so be It needs to be said
there Is no place for **** like this
who sleep at night In their beds with screams of children they ****** In their ears there will be a justice In life and those who ****** will answer for despicable
crimes
IRA **** of the Earth
lowest of low they who
sleep at night with the
screams of the children
they **** with their cowardly
bombs they no Army murderers that all they
are
Ariana Oct 2018
I am 6 years old
it’s Christmas again and I pretend
that I’m not excited.
My fingers are sticky and the house
smells like cinnamon, until family drifts in
permitting the scent out through the open front door.
Polite blather is washed out by the deep roar
of a man’s laugh, he says,
“Santa’s not black.”
Eyes dart from me to the door,
me to the floor,
back to the door.

8 years old and
I didn’t go to school Monday
because anxiety rules my life and
twists my stomach. I rise above it on Wednesday,
untwist it, and march back to my desk,
impressed because everyone’s eyes are now
focused on me. Actuality sets in when I sit down
and Connor asks me if I heard that the kids
called me “Blackie” on the playground and
and came in from recess.
I suppress my welling tears, he sneers,
and I laugh.

10 years old,
it’s summer again and Reno says he wants to play
football. With bare feet and lip gloss I eagerly cross
the road to the school, ring the bell,
and as I wait, I trace the names of crushes engraved
into the metal and ultimately settle ******* on his.
But today is different.
He approaches with a new game called “Slaves”
which doesn’t feel like much of a game when
only one gets a gun and you can’t outrun it. So I bite my lip as
airsoft pellets sting my back, my legs.
Tears stain my childish face and I let him chase me
because I adore him, however,
I don’t think he likes me anymore.

12 years old and
A jewish boy called me a ****** today. He is bold
and unafraid of the repercussions,
I want to speak but I have nothing to say.
Tongue pressing my teeth
I breath deep and … my friend yells “****.”
I don’t know what it means but it seems like he does
as he runs from the room into the open arms of our principal.
Detention for me,
She’s Jewish too.  


13 years old and I
don’t know what it means when they call me
*******. But I can only assume that
it means that I am still not welcome here.
I catch a glimpse of my teary-eyed reflection in the
lenses of my teacher’s sunglasses,
black and chewed-on by his dog.
He scratches his fair hair and tells me,
“Natural selection will take care of this,”
Miffed, I don’t know if he means me
or them.

14 years old and
it’s the first day of black history month.
For lunch my school is serving fried chicken
and watermelon, it’s either that or PB&J
so I grab a tray, drag my feet to a table
and I sit alone.
A hush washes over the room
and soon, a single piece of watermelon leads
a barrage of lunch in a food fight where
I am the only target. So
Broken-hearted, I pick up the mess and throw it in the trash.
My pride and my new shirt,
lay stained
on top of the pile.

15
I smile in the mirror as if that changes a thing, and
walk out of the bathroom and into the hot sting
that radiates from their gaze. I tell myself it’s
a phase, and in due time I’ll have a place where I am safe
from them-
but Sharpies stain and the school budget doesn’t include paint
so the words “Go home monkey” will remain
on my locker, covered in tape,
as a daily reminder for the rest of the year.

16
I didn’t mean to curse at Rachel’s mom
but she asked me if I’d spoken to my Uncle Tom today and
I lost my ever loving ****.
I excused myself to the porch where their dog tried to bite me,
because she doesn’t like brown skin or loud mouths either.
I‘m never going back.


17
With a baby in my stomach
and a lump in my throat I sit, arms crossed, across from
my principle; He says that attendance is an integral part of
my success this year, so it’s best for me to
postpone my diploma and stay at home.
I respond with “no thank you” and stare through him as
he walks me to the door.
Before it swings shut his whispers catch up and
I cringe as he swears to his secretary
that he can’t be expected to save us all.
“It’s a statistic.”

18
caught in between a woman and a child
I dangle in space, contemplating my place in
a world that’s hell-bent on hating me before recognizing
my worth.  
By now, I think, I know that it won’t stay dark forever, so I eagerly
await the dawn, crouching in the corner
hopeful that I will one day be UNseen.
And I truly believe that I am a Warrior,
a force to be reckoned with.
Because I am grown now, well adjusted, unscathed, and
wholly unaffected.

Today
I am 23 years old and
I still don’t know what it means to be left
unbothered. But I’m oddly familiar with what it’s like being
followed through the store, questioned by a clerk,
and rushed out the door.

Inadvertently,
I live by the rules of being black,
always walking on eggshells,
and underselling my personality.
Stay in line, don’t get mouthy,
let it roll of off you, it makes your skin thicker.
Oh!
Always get a receipt and a paid sticker because
if you walk too quickly, they might think that you’ve
stolen. Be sure to open your mouth wide
and enunciate, because a single missed syllable
could be the difference between earning respect or pity.
And I am tired of being pitied.
Pitied by strangers, pitied by friends,
pitied by myself.

I am 23 years old and
for the first time, in a long time, it is quiet.

Only under this cloak of silence
have I begun to pry loose the armor that grew over
my brown skin. The armor that cinched off my ears,
covered my eyes, and protected me throughout the years.
Beneath it, I’ve discovered gashes
cut through to my bones,
once-soft flesh now turned to stone,
and I am no warrior.

I am still a 6 year old girl who spent so much time
crafting a shield to protect myself,
that I never had the time to learn about myself.

Beneath my armor
I am
naked.

I am
breathless.

And I am Black.
"At the age of twelve, before I had had one full year of formal schooling, I had . . . a conviction that the meaning of living came only when one was struggling to wring a meaning out of meaningless suffering." Richard Wright
Next page