"unconfessed" poems
هر دو بی فرزند هستیم (متفاوت)/we are both childless, differently
——————————————————————————
*let us not ask each other or god
the why, just how life worked out
and maybe by a choice unconfessed*
~
yet we both lie.
~
you possess thousands of offspring,
tend to their every need, breast feed
them water, special nutrients, stroking
their leaves, worry about their viruses,
you, dying just, a little, when, one rooted
looks up and says, “I am dying mother,
thank you for your love.”
~
my ***** produced two men,
each now, differentially,
lost, lost to me, and daily
privately, in word and wet,
weep my losses, for what
is a man who had children,
but goes down into his grave
gray haired, with none in
attendance to refill the soil
that his grave grayed body
requires to
hide his wasted,
childless
life.
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 8:52 AM UTC
These thoughts cannot escape my mind, a hope for the future so very hard to find
As with each passing January day so does my love grow cold
And I am fighting, and I am losing
And I am searching for the answers but the pain has left me blind and so I stumble in the darkness no direction I can find, I have been tattooed with the ink of love and death, somebody told me that the scar was permanent
And I am fighting, but I am losing
Will you please pull the knife out of my back and plunge it deep into my chest and cut my heart out feel it beating and my soul will finally rest
If death could only find me then my life would be complete
For I have been run through the gauntlet and have ended on my knees
And I know you will find my life
You will find it in a million pieces strewn across the floor
And my heart a million pieces now
As I walk out that door
And as you pace the empty halls and gaze the empty walls
You will see inside the darkest room a picture hanging near
But do not look between the black and white for the scars are hiding there
My cards were nothing, empty, faceless, oh I was played for such a fool
And I am fighting, and I am losing
I wish I could have known that this was love, but I never would have guessed
That you would **** for life so fleeting and hate left unconfessed
And with damage only love can feel, with soul left obsolete
I find that life is just a casualty of truth found incomplete.
(c)2005 CJG
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 12:39 PM UTC
my words
begging to be uttered
will forever be
left unsaid
my apologies
for my mistakes
will never have the chance
to be forgiven
my utmost gratitude
for meeting one like you
will certainly be
unexpressed
my request
for you to stay
will now be
just another plea
my wish
though unrevealed
will always want
to soon be granted
& my love
for you and you only
will always remain
unconfessed
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Whisper,
on the surface of the crockery
the fairy porcelain
and Satie's piano.
Rinse
unconfessed wishes
and, among the cutlery,
I say goodbye
to Gymnopédie.
There is always an air of water
in the words that tell me
when the morning ends
and in the brightness of the dishes,
the same colour
of sorrow.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:53 AM UTC
Walls, painted purple and red
Closing off from society a black bed
Made up carefully and neatly with care
Looking inward, everything appears clear
The walls, covered with posters suggest
A young man, with nothing to confess
The monster energy banner hanging there
Shows a normal teen, one without care
The Xbox on the shelf, wires hidden away
The detail to cleanliness goes without say
Shown also by the kept up desk
No single paper rebelling, attempting to make a mess
Multiple chairs, all in range of the tv
Always thinking of others it would seem
But what lies beneath the elaborate ruse
Waiting to go off, with a short fuse
Open the drawer in the flawless desk
And see a pill bottle, hidden, unconfessed
Label ripped, with pen marks in place
"Emergency, the only escape"
Look under the papers, with 100 stamped
And find cigarettes, written on them, ******
The slow, warm sensation held within
Slow form of suicide, it would be okay then
Open the closet now, overlook the clothing
The button ups, and suits all neatly hanging
But look above, to the shoeboxes stacked
And notice the box hidden in the back
The box says goodbye, with blood on the side
Throw off the lid, which has to be pried
The tape on the inside, rips away to reveal
A note folded neatly, with a staple to seal
Underneath, a razor, which shines in the light
New and unused, sharp, almost hurting by sight
But why is the box so heavy
Open the secret bottom, you'll see
There is money inside, hidden away
What is it for? Maybe the note would say
Open it carefully, not to rip it
Before you read, you may want to sit
"Dear mom and dad, I'm sorry I'm not
Not the son you want dad, I'm stronger in thought
I've never had brawn, but I've tried, I swear
I've dealt with the pain, but I can't, it's clear
And I'm sorry mom, that I'm not enough
School is so stressful, it's harder, it's tough
I've been top of my class, but that was my best
You want more from me, but I need to rest."
One could know these terrible truths if they look
If anyone cared to open his book
He's more than the synopsis, and the cover too
But it may be too late then, ending the story too soon
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
sometimes
i feel poetry in my chest that i can't express
purposeless unconfessed a mess that i try
to gather in my hands but
like sand it
slips from my grip, a
confused clutter of carelessly uttered words of
affection
there's no direction to this
senseless stumble of a poem no way for me to
spill my ink in a pattern that will show you
what i think and hope that you already know, you
are the world and i
am a fool for trying to fit your everythingness on a notebook page
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
Naked I am when I write these words
I cast them on a screen
Hoping they find my readers ears
Cast out all of their fears
As they drown from all of their tears
This is just me and my words
I fear nothing but your ignorance
I pray for grace and forgiveness
My life once clean
Now a mess from unconfessed sins
I confess my insecurity
To the one who hopes the best for me
If you are to judge me
at least look into my words
And tell me you have never felt like me before
Your heart on the floor
Walked on by others who are more insecure
If you feel my pain
These words are now your words too
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
Folder: Heart aesthetics
diamonds in her eyes
no hope left in her pocket
heart's a mess
heart's a mess
diamonds in her eyes
no hope left in her pocket
sun doesnt shine warm anymore
moon wont glow
heart's a mess
heart's a mess
pulling stars from the sky
dragging down rainbows
tearing wings off butterflies
heart's a mess
heart's a mess
diamonds in her eyes
no hope left in her pocket
shes so beautfiul
shes so beautiful
when her heart is all a mess
a love dies unconfessed
diamonds in her eyes
no hope left in her pocket
so beautiful,
so beautiful,
she's so beautiful
when her heart's a mess
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
There’s a lost-in-thought face,
An angry and serious mode.
A bite-my-lip way to cover a glitch,
Chin-up, rhythm right walk.
A peculiar expression when he’s with me,
Just like when he’s with his cigarette.
Full smirk, half smile and some tears,
Unshed, just like things he wanted to say but couldn’t.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
Talent
by Michael R. Burch
for Kevin Nicholas Roberts
I liked the first passage
of her poem―where it led
(though not nearly enough
to retract what I said.)
Now the book propped up here
flutters, scarcely half read.
It will keep.
Before sleep,
let me read yours instead.
There's something like love
in the rhythms of night
―in the throb of streets
where the late workers drone,
in the sounds that attend
each day’s sad, squalid end―
that reminds us: till death
we are never alone.
So we write from the hearts
that will fail us anon,
words in red
truly bled
though they cannot reveal
whence they came,
who they're for.
And the tap at the door
goes unanswered. We write,
for there is nothing more
than a verse,
than a song,
than this chant of the blessed:
"If these words
be my sins,
let me die unconfessed!
Unconfessed, unrepentant;
I rescind all my vows!"
Write till sleep:
it’s the leap
only Talent allows.
Keywords/Tags: talent, poem, poetry, poet, book, sounds, write, writing, words, art, creation, creativity
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 4:49 AM UTC
let me play you the symphony of grief
with the rhythm of breaths you will never take
and a chorus of your final words
telling me that you love me
let me play you the symphony of grief
your melodic union with gravity,
in harmony with my desperate pleas
begging Him to let me follow you
let me play you the symphony of grief
as they pulled me from your embrace
to the beat of my breaking soul
that our promise could not be kept
let me play you the symphony of grief
hear the echoes of our laughter
matching the tune of the sirens
come to collect your lifeless body
let me play you the symphony of grief
drowned in this deafening silence
made of all the feelings left unguessed
and filled with words still unconfessed
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
It hits the table.
Your keys.
You sit down and look over at me with a look of love in your eyes, admiration.
Our eyes lock.
They meet and your lips begin to turn up into a smile.
Then it all goes black.
There is no longer light between us, it is just.
Nothingness.
But that is not true because there is darkness.
And for there to be the absence of light,
There had to be light in the first place.
The humming of electricity stops
The click click of the fan,
The voices on the radio,
Stop.
There is no longer sound between us,
It is just.
Nothingness.
But that is not true because there is silence,
And for there to be the absence of sound,
There had to be sound in the first place.
But that is not all.
There is a love between us,
An unspoken love.
The buzzing of our atoms reaching for each other,
The sound of our hearts beating in unison.
I light a candle and our love illuminates the room.
We talk and there is no longer silence. There is the sound of two lovers speaking, Connecting.
And I know then that there is something there.
Our eyes lock.
They meet but you do not smile.
The lights shut off and the buzzing is less significant.
There is no longer a desperation in our touch.
I do not light a candle that night,
Scared that the light will illuminate something in the dark.
Something I do not want to see.
I prefer the dark.
I prefer the dark over an unconfessed lover,
Over the “i do not”s or the “but”s
I prefer silence over the truth.
Our eyes do not lock.
Your lips are pursed together and there is a tear forming in your eye.
I do not hear much.
Just the rustling of you beneath the blanket.
I have my own now.
We go night after night,
Hands to ourselves,
Lips not touching,
Voices not colliding.
How can I be laying next to you and still be lonely,
How can I see you but miss you.
Now. It is like your voice is a commodity,
Something I long to hear,
Something that is scarce,
Something not given.
Our eyes lock.
They meet and you do not smile.
The tear falls down your cheek.
There is nothing.
Just silence.
Because for there to be unlove,
There had to be love in the first place.
The absence of... anything.
Is that nothing?
Or is it just emptiness.
The lights do not go out that night.
I hear the drifting apart.
Feel my feet shuffling to the couch.
I see the loneliness, inviting me in.
I turn off the lights.
I light a candle and I lay down.
The candle illuminating my tear stained face,
The skeletons in my closet,
The monsters in the dark.
It illuminates my darkest fears.
I keep the light off.
I put the candle out,
Hiding my pain.
It hits the table,
Your tears.
And you sit down and look over at me with tears in your eyes, sadness.
Our eyes lock.
There is no longer love between us.
I am alone now.
I go through the motions.
I go to coffee shops looking for love, gas stations, bars.
I speak over crowds in hope our eyes will meet.
I write poems and I walk the streets
Looking for something in someone else’s eyes.
Something you took from me.
Something not mine anymore.
I glance over and see a coffee mug in the air.
Covering a face framed by long black hair. Different from her blonde.
Curls flow down and bounce on her shoulders.
Different from her straight.
It hits the table.
The mug.
You come over and sit down
You look at me across the table.
Our eyes lock.
They meet and your lips turn up into a smile.
Then the lights turn back on.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
Take it all away again and don’t stop breathing
Who knew I could take all these beatings
I'm alive,
Only to decline an invitation to live in this situation
Where love is only conditional
I grow invisible
I can’t manifest and I can’t disappear
I just sit and wonder what the **** I’m doing here
You don’t need me, and that’s why you can’t see me
I'm fading but you’re see through
And this is just another hole I fell into
A pipe dream that that could never be true
Still, all I ever wanted was you
And one last time could never be enough
A million times I could tell myself it wasn’t love
But my mind is cursed…
Dissecting a situation
Trying to quiet the imagination
But you're too careless, and we’re just unkind
Only ever taping up these holes and leaving it all behind
You’re mind, a black hole ******* all that matters right from my chest,
You’re lies are like stains on my only white dress
Lies that live easy cause the truths no fun
Another round of bullets babe! Can you just hold this gun?
What good will it do now though? We're already alone
Somehow I always knew one day you’d leave home
Sin will go unconfessed
Mistakes, locked away in an iron chest
How were we supposed to ever confess
If you can’t see it then it's not real
But when was that ever part of the deal?
These are just metaphors, but here’s the feel bad,
Babe
These are your scars and your bags, and they’ll always be packed
So put on your little rouge act
But this is nothing but a comfort zone and it's all you can ever call your own
That’s all you can hope to know
And if you continue running it’ll be too late
A cycle in repeat that only ever ends in hate
Pushing everything aside
Beautiful creature, you never learned how not to hide
Time won't ever be on your side…
But these choices will be all your own, to own
So make a conscious one that we can condone
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
I feel your heart inside my own and steadily, like my grasp on air
I am gone
Misplacing myself, faintly
Crawling into your sun
An ache that goes the way it comes
Is it the same for everyone?
Love
I grip my chest
This heart is unconfessed
For it's survival we'll hang on, for a moment then we're gone
I see your eyes alight in my soul
And for days after I can't let go
You'll linger long untill quietly, you're done
Love
Cascading down over me
Interchangeable solutions
Like liquid,
I'll run
Come one, come none
Is this the same for everyone?
For our own survival we'll hang on, for a moment then we're done
I'm crawling into this midnight sun
To infinate eternities, where I saturate in your arms
You are watchful and I, awake
Together we can liberate
And this perception lights the flame
You make me feel like a child again
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
Falling isn’t hard.
All that provokes falling, is imbalance.
Though you may be rooted, the possibility
of instability
is constant.
Saving yourself from falling is a different matter.
Hurry to scrape the weight in your unconfessed shadows.
Acknowledging such unsteadiness while
my heart’s beat grows closer I’ll
Attempt to alter my center of gravity.
Gravity,
is humanity’s ground opposed to religion
Thus proving every one of us has sinned tradition.
With failure follows triumph
And with sin comes resurrection.
Falling is inevitable, though rising is not.
-d.r. 11.21.15
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
The Jackal was Screaming for Me even though I could not hear Him I knew I heard His oppression roaming with every dead that posed as a glimpse to His Heir for when can I hace a sip of His blood with a convincing brow onlys to be crossed whit evenry turn He made for the canister was always full of unquenched fruition to the blasted came one home that it would rest persistence roars with one snarl contemplating that it had to be the only way for no Man can pass Me and My guards that ran drunk jealousy drive for the night just started and the day would never show you as Chief but tonight Youre at best when You are swept by Her calls to hear Her voice over the brags of your unconfessed confused bire to know the scene
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC