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Third Eye Candy Oct 2016
mending the snow
has now become knitting white
to frost
as lost kingdoms navigate
from their obscurity -
hosting the hours of our doom
to decades of joy and inertia ...
even as you really love someone
on purpose... you forget
someone.

and all
is come undone !
from a kernel of honey
as ever was.
barking madly at false gods, while -
nipping at the heel of
Unhealing wounds...

all  havoc and have at It
where the true wrong
believes You.

a sting of happiness
dashed against the stubborn
fuss of tossed rocks.
the milk of shadow....
clawing at the way you forget
a glowing medallion
of aching wisdom

And henpecked stars  Henpecked.

a clutch of hit squad horseshoes, lucky in the dark.

the blue navel of a certain monotony
that jibes with your Apologies...
and a long Pause

A Lost -
Art
Founding the Church
of a Lost
Cause

and every Wednesday in a Box
of course.

hurrah !
Mikayle Miller Apr 2015
There is this wound it hurts so bad
it always appears when I am sad
No matter what I do it won't go away
its in my heart where it will always stay
It appeared the day you left this world
and I was no longer your little girl
forced to grow up with you not there
to make things easy that I couldn't bear
I search for you every day
if I'm sick, sad, or just have something to say.
I'm jealous of some girls,
girls who still have their mothers
I tell them to appreciate what they have,
because after they are gone,
there simply is no others.
I have this pain that won't go away,
it makes me mad that you couldn't stay
No matter many years go by
there's still one time of day that I do cry,
I miss you dearly and this is true,
my wound will not heal until I'm with you
Oh, I have tried to laugh the pain away,
Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather.
But the old fever seizes me to-day,
As sickness grips a soul in wretched weather.
I have given up myself to every urge,
With not a care of precious powers spent,
Have bared my body to the strangest scourge,
To soothe and deaden my heart's unhealing rent.
But you have torn a nerve out of my frame,
A gut that no physician can replace,
And reft my life of happiness and aim.
Oh what new purpose shall I now embrace?
What substance hold, what lovely form pursue,
When my thought burns through everything to you?
Helios Rietberg Dec 2011
Streets lined with confetti
Cheering crowds waving flags
Delighted squeals of the young child
Even destitutes on holiday
And the sun burning its merry way on the sidewalks

Ascent of the podium
Big bow to everybody
More cheers
Slogans read: long live the hero
Happy days to come
and, no one shall stand in our way

The people hush
they quiet as the microphone moves closer
a smile:

I am no hero

––a pause––a cheer––

I am no hero

––another pause––no cheers––

There is no glory in killing
no honour in ending a life
that could have gone on to be so much more
a person who
had their own hopes
dreams––––––––––

––all is quiet over the square
and the sun continues to shine––

––––and people who loved them

There is no joy
in dealing pain
––and pain that never heals

––––silence––––




––a child cries––


a pain that is my pain
a pain that never goes away
a pain of hearing the last words of someone
who could have easily been your friend
your neighbour
your teammate
your best man
your brother––––

They always say: tell them... I love them
and who shall carry out this task?
the one who slew them?

––––––––––––––––––––

so I keep it with me
forever, and perhaps in time
someone will pass it on

––––mostly they stay ungiven
until this generation passes
and that unhealing pain follows us away
and then we go on over and over again

So I don't think that we should say
that we are heroes today
we are no heroes
we are only survivors
victims of a dying breed
and ebbing slowly.

––––a silence––––

The sun continues to shine.
© Helios Rietberg, December 2011
Pebbles Jan 2011
I will hold the  hand*
In which friendship lies*
When darkness falls
I will hold tighter
Angels  sit quietly by your side
while you weep
Your pain is raw

The wounds today are open and unhealing  
and the sun just didnt want to shine
Though you can not feel them
Angels wipe away the tears
Giving as I have asked

In the hours
when your darkness takes over  
When you can not breath
I will be the breath
that holds you
just for a while
until you breath freely
once more

When darkness falls
Be not afraid
ask for help
I can not always be here
But i have asked the light beings to stay a while
Incase you need them
to guide you back home


:-)
cpy 2011
In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely,
On the deck of a ship, rising, falling,
Wild night around me, wild water under me,
Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling.

Earth is hostile and the sea hostile,
Why do I look for a place to rest?
I must fight always and die fighting
With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.
Salil Panvalkar Oct 2013
heres to another night spent writhing about in bed
like a serpent in the vast cosmic ocean bearing its fangs at each tiny source of light
a plethora of thoughts come to mind right when the head hits the soft stack of pillows
the trees and the leaves rustle as if sandpaper being scraped against a human face

and it leaves behind a deep unhealing **** that will last till the end of each sleepless night
be healed by the time the head leaves its nightly resting place to go out and take on the world
and the wait for the endless repetitive cycle to begin will begin once again
trudging through miles of globulous bile will again have the same lasting effect

as that of half eaten railway platforms and ground up browser tabs
elongated letters as they appear on the windowed capillaries of one's ignited violin
repossessed keyboards that belonged to aspiring writers who could never fill a page
with words that failed to even capture the imagination of the wittiest troll by the bridge

more words will flow through the sphincters present in half alive lighters
it seems this one needs to rhyme, so raise one to the brave baby fighters
streamlined thoughts finally arise as the mind clears up a little
here's another rhyme, this one might come off as a bit brittle

henceforth thoughts shall be placed with greater precision
there are ants residing in the laptop; sleeping with the laptop, a great decision
back into the depths of insanity shall we delve again
sleeping with a colony of ants equals terrible, piercing pain
Claire Nation Aug 2015
I am a bird trapped in a cage a red hot cage
And I try to break free but the feathers on my wings become scorched so I screech out in pain
then no one can bother to hear me
and I fall back to the floor of this cage and my feet are then set ablaze by the pain
and so I flapp back up to ceiling of my cage to relieve the pain in feet
only for my wings to unable to fully open and I fall back down unable to breathe
parts of my body are burning all around me
me

And so I skeech to the sky Into the blanket of cotton plastered to blue
I know I belong there
yet still I am burning
and burning
and I try and I try
to reach the sky to feel the cold wind
on my burning unhealing body
and I just can’t seem to get it out of my head that everything will be alright
And so I cry out but no can bother to hear me
And I hate them
because they can’t be bothered to help me
yet I love them because I need them
I
need
them

and I just wish to be free to feel the cold breeze on my burning unhealing body
yet I can’t break out of the cage so at night I take turns on each side of my body so one side heals while the other burns
only for the sun to rise in the morning
and I am still left morning
because I hate my life and hate those who can free me
yet loving them because only they have the key to the door of my cage
and so I’m left loving my life because I can only seem to imagine my future where am freed from this cage
this cage

I am tired of only knowing this cage
and I am just now starting to realize that for me hate in love are one in the same
because it is what I hate that I love
I love them
because I need them
and hate them because I need them
I need them
Tiberius Thomas Sep 2012
they said time heals emotions
but i don't get that notion
time passes by, im in a rut
stagnant pain, an unhealing cut

wait a bit longer they say
you'll for sure be ok
a doubtful smile
i'm in denial

future looking dimmer
letting my body simmer
drowning, a pool of shame
thoughts i cannot change

embarrassed and alone
my struggles now well known
time has passed
only depression has amassed

lost in rehabilitation
happiness, my deprivation
how do i rise above
when shame fits like a glove
fray narte Jan 2021
maybe if you skin me alive, we’ll both know, finally, that this rotting chest is no place for you to leave love songs lying around. you see, my heart is both a soft and cruel place; each beat, a subtle atrocity to spilling outbreaths — a sheath for keeping your hunting knife. if you skin me alive, you’ll see the ghost towns after a new year’s eve. the slow dancing of grief before it screams its way out. the stab wounds, quiet and unhealing between cotton rows. the afterglow, graying at human touch.

if you skin me alive, you’ll see that there is no place for you here. you’ll see trembling. you’ll see staying still. you’ll see running away and never looking back. both wonder, and a conundrum — maybe more of one than the other.

these days, i am no longer sure if i am writing you love letters or writing you all my goodbyes.

maybe it’s more of one than the other —




maybe it always was.
Becky Littmann Feb 2016
HEY YOU! STOP, LOOK & LISTEN!
Whatever, I don't care if you pay attention
I'm prone to come, **** **** up & just leave
& yes, im well aware at the glares I receive
I'm tiny in size
But that's quite obvious if you have ******* EYES
There is more
Just wait for it, it's gonna POUR
The shadow lurkers , those who live in the darkness ..
Their PAINFUL screams forever echoing, maliciously & voiceless
They never just go away..
they just endlessly stay
hisses & shouts, salt unhealing wounds with every word
& STILL undefeated, I'm prepared to battle with what is yet to be heard..
I have no choice but to continue
...**** IT! I gotta do what I gotta Do!
I won't quit, I plan to go hard & attack...
The Shadow Lurkers left me with a cold heart
& I'm giving that **** right back..
Sometimes your soul is lost in a sunless light & you're the only one who can save him before the darkness becomes the bright... Be at peace with yourself first before you try to fight the war around you!
Mahesh Hegde Jan 2014
Fire took birth when collided two marvellous limestones,
An action which even fate wished could be undone.!
Both of them had their own morals,
So to extinguish the fire, tried none.
But the fire that took place gave many births,
Only if one could see,
Possibly they had similar dents too,
Collision also had caused the same damage to the two, probably.
Their disguise I wonder is as a titanium for a creepy reason, one of their sole,
As if now to be a rock and not meant to ever roll.
Fire, this word, is an irony in itself,
Showing life but acts raging to turn all into ashes.
Why do the sheeps I count seem less when I am not even feeling sleepy,
Things I long for, strucks me hard to give unhealing indentation, and then I try to detatch myself from it,
But my longing always defeats the feel to waiver, its creepy..
How does a bird, only look the most beautiful at its birth, unfurling its wings,
My innocence, where my only guide was my conscience, filled with empathy, it sings.!
PrttyBrd Jan 2018
A cacophony of wasted space in a mind too full to see
boring holes to breathe or vent
or pray that there is no light to be let in

Was never done dying before yesterday moved
tomorrow is last year a lifetime ago
today, erased by was and will

Tears can't dry in incessant floods
bleeding acid that feeds unhealing wounds
in a mix of steroids and parasites

Faced with all that perception ever was
altered reality in crushed emotion
scraping the dregs of feeling to find a place to sleep

Jagged shards of memories offer the most comfort
as they slice what attempted to heal
killing me slowly anew with each passing moment

Moments torn in a million pieces of equal pain
encased in cemented ideals and rosy falsehoods
yesterday is the only reality left

Outside a clenched fist holding onto nothing
blood crusts in black paint
open or closed, there's nothing left to see

Longing to bleed out through the ****** of dreams
left to die in a place that packs holes with dirt
enough to exist in an invisible life

Killing the long ago before it finishes what it started
seems its own nightmare of weakness
will it alive or will it dead, just will something and make it so

A lifetime of dying in a half-life of truth
gray eats black as anguish feeds on beauty
nothing remains in untouched memories
11418
235w
I love her that's so insane
I love a woman with an amazing name
She thinks that I left was mearly a game
I really did love her to an extent she will never know from where it came
I gave her my heart my soul but to her it was all the same
I eat and drink and wake up every morning to the sound of her name
I want to hear that voice that disrupted my bones frame
You burnt my heart into flames
You caused me an unhealing maim
I still love you despite all the hurt and pain
Loving you and treating you like a queen is my aim
Kareena Mar 2015
I think it's time to say goodbye
To Hello Poetry completely
It's made me laugh and made my cry
But it hurts me more, secretly

It's my 200th poem and it is the time
To stop writing to a void
To stop rereading poems of love
When I have another choice

My heart keeps hurting with every poem
That reminds me of you and I
So instead of reopening unhealing wounds
I decided to say goodbye

*Goodbye
Azuraine Dec 2012
My life ……a slippery ***** comprised of the anxiety over all tomorrows.
My life…..voices climbing to be on top in packed rooms.
My life…..words carving deeper ….and deeper still….. into unhealing wounds.
My life…..reruns of whys after repeats of why not’s.
My life…..an immense unknown nothing surround by odds and ends of everything.
My life…..consistent unraveling progression
My life……indefinite realities
My Life….In…..the….nutshell…………………………………………………
crybaby911 Sep 2015
Unceasing mental conversations
Unceasing mental wars
Physical distortions
Unhealing scars

*Fix me doctor.
Christos Rigakos May 2012
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt--
the throbbing of the heart's unhealing burn--
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt?

I whine too much for one who's life's so curt,
when far worse lives are lessons to be learned,
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt?

for others have not shoes to wear or shirt,
and neither have they roof or floor to yearn,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt,

remains the fabric of their pants and skirt,
yet on my satin sheets I toss and turn,
so, who am I that I may moan my hurt?

I've lost a brother, in this pain I churn
my heart, my cries for him are always spurned,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt

is what we are, become, in time so short,
with nothing more than hope of a return,
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt?

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos
Villanelle
Ashleigh Black Jun 2014
I have a hard time
not regretting things I've done,
but sometimes it eats away at you
like an unhealing wound.

I wish I could say
that there isn't one thing
I would have changed about us
but we'd both know I'd be lying.

And really, who am I kidding?
I would take you back
in a heartbeat,
everything in its entirety.
jeffrey robin Jan 2011
"i love you"

words of power

"i love you!"

words of power used
to make others weak

--------

we "play" with eachother
for awhile
and are gone

----------

we claim
"immeasureable
and unhealing pain"

just to hurt

------------

"i love you!!!!!"

YES YES

IM SURE YOU DO!!!!!!!!!
Larry B Feb 2011
Standing on the edge of loneliness
My heartache beckons me to fall
A river of tears my destination
Do I heed my pain's endless call?

That ache down deep in my stomach
A feeling of eternal loss
There's no turning back from whence I came
I burn every bridge that I cross

Trust is now just a far away dream
A phantom with unfaithful eyes
A promise, no more than empty words
A truth that's no more than lies

My soul is hollow, my memories mist
That fade away with the breeze
Broken, I tend to my unhealing wounds
Destined to stand on my knees

Standing on the edge of loneliness
My heart now lost to this death
"Why does love have to hurt like this?"
I scream, with my final breath
Jane Aug 2021
The tears surge and abruptly halt, refusing to pierce through the pain and drain away the lava frustrations, agonising uncertainties
Angry skin raised with the mountain of grime clogging every pore of me
No purchase on my chin, my cheek
Witch's wart and inner ugliness seeps outward for all to see, my shame on display and unhealing
Wounded, winded, watery and wimp sick of weighted limbs and a expected disappointment
No tears to dry when you can't cry when you believe the lie when you cannot die
Harmony Sapphire Feb 2015
Generous & giving.
To me I she will be out living.
Probably by more than twenty years.
I have my paranoia & fears.
I wish us never to die or age.
To earn more than minimum wage.

Delicate, fragile hearts still beating.
A will to live is undefeating.
Kind, sweet, innocent, pure, & golden.
A life, birthed, loved, & chosen.
A protected memory shielded frozen.

Letters of hoping remain unopened.
Unhealing & never coping.
Trauma & damage, somehow we will manage.

Burning passion melts the ice from my rage.
Feelings go unsaid.
Words written erased & unread.
Warm in our beds resting our heads.
Stress weighs on my heart like lead.
Sometimes we go unfed.
My love or *** or is never wed.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved
Louise Apr 2014
It was created over time
   my 'state of heart'
      and it bleeds
like an unhealing wound
  My 'state of heart'
   beats to an uncertain tune
     reminding me
       of notes that are ....

            familiar

Every day they're heard
  not in the same way though
    as before

        before, is long forgotten

My 'state of heart' tries to pull me
  in directions that are
     unacceptable
        unwise

it is at times 'childlike'

     'wide eyed'

caused maybe by a stolen youth
    I think

I'm sure it weeps sometimes
  my 'state of heart'
like an insignificant, weak object
  and I ignore it of course

Why respond to such shallow sounds?

  Disregarding it all
      I continue ..

To acknowledge it means I'm there
   I am far from it
     I promise

It's just ..
  
    my 'state of heart'

         doesn't

             realise
Kore Mar 2018
we have been dry for years
our skin has grown cracks
deep fissures
unhealing and unending

our bodies resembling the desert
that gave birth to us
that nurtured us
gave us her fruit,
her sparse green,
her shallow,
disappearing pools

but still
our throats beg
for water,
for a drop
of mercy from the sky -

we croak and cry and beg
with chests heaving,
tears the only mercy to come
for petrichor lost

we have been dry
for years
no mercy
no end
V liv Dec 2018
-
It always comes back
The void
Regret without regret
The pain
An unhealing wound
The peace of it all strikes me
I feel warmth again
And then I remember that you're still gone
and I'm still
alone
Ryan Dec 2015
a constant stress,
depressed.

a inapt feeling,
unhealing.

a unchangable mind,
unkind.

a warped vision,
undriven.

a dampened state,
irate.

a longing for more,
sore.

a wanting to change.
need to make some change from being stuck in a self-created prison...
“Transcendence is dead”,

He remarked,
with hollowed eyes enlarged

“There’s no exteriority to this existence,
no object not rooted to this mind,
no experience to reach to alleviate me from this pain”

Words uttered in vain sentiment,
like riches given by a desolate

“- and there’s no interiority
to this existence either,
no refuge untouched by extrinsic hands,
no truth untainted and grazed
by worldly sands,
etching indelible marks,
serrations upon the purity of what I envision, oppressive symmetry bounding my condition”

Echoes unbridled to the night made by folded wings
of the hungriest crows,
a reality smirking upon this man
encased in noxious snow

“-only immersion,
only implicit truth,
only sensation,
that’s all that’s left when flesh is torn,
arteries spilt,
and bones broken,
when my fantasies are the whispering
of the death of lives yet born ”

How unfortunate,

“I once remarked that
„abstract are the lines of my conscience„
how false I was,
there is no conscience,
there is no line, there is no territory,
no irreducible components of self,
no elements,
no world,
mere immersion, mere immersion, mere immersion, mere imm-“

How unfortunate,

“-ersion, my plane of immanence,
thought is not real,
only the image of thought,
people aren’t real,
only their representations,
this is not real,
only my description of it,
I’m sustained by this illusion and I am content,
for content is not real, only stationarity,
to suggest my autonomy
suggests a piece in a game,
an agent in a relation,
a designated power,
but power is not real,
only my laughter and spite,
only the former iterations of myself I
walk over
so I may tell myself I am content where I am,
consciousness is not real,
only the playthings of my inner demons,
and my unconscious is not real,
only the results of my outer events,
I am not real,
only the set of eyes that overlooks me”

How unfortunate,
a child who instead of a soul,
an unhealing wound,
but don’t feel upset for this child,
he is not real, only the representation of him, only a disembodied set of eyes describing his flesh left behind


|


Now I must close my eyes, this child of hollowed sight is beginning to cry, then so will I
These eyes have already been hollowed,
a terminal iteration overlooks now,
an iteration that sleeps,
an iteration that sits,
an iteration that’s shedded it’s conscious
an iteration that shedded it’s unconscious,
an iteration suspended inside an
eternity
an eternity that’s inside of an
hour
existing inside the scent of an
Allium Erdelii flower

No iteration is real,
only the process of iterating,
no process is real,
only the infinite immersion into a
moμent of beαuτy
Angel of Sin Jul 2017
A lonely martyr wanders decrepit halls of Jericho
And no moon could shine brighter than his stars
But alas life has no meaning to a man without his soul
I'm nothing, but a husk covered in scars

I've used it, to lose it
Tried to carve meaning into it
But this aging crypt of a deathless mess
Where evil kissed sickness as lover and mistress
Unto me, and through me
Disease and Terror eternally sit
Inside a hurting heart with hurtful words
Projecting from my quiet lips, to pen filled fingertips

Exciting new pain the flames will bring for me
For inspiration is found in ethereal tapestries

They know I'm mad
And dangerous because of everything that I know
My mind is clad
In a darkness that permeates through my very soul

Born wild, reviled
A stillborn wretch defiled
Unfeeling, unhealing, deformities revealing
Yet Life opened his eyes and he cried to greet her

Little did she know my life was filled with pain
A million holes filled only with disdain

For twenty years of torturous days and nights
Every aspect of life I've had to fight
Not with a sword or a gun but with the power of my own might
Since I was born in have gone to war
And every Angel I've seen was just a falling star
There's nothing like a lifetime of creating scars
To build you into who you truly are....
The immeasurable depth of Being sustains our lament.
The divine radiance is extinguished;
the gods have turned their backs.

All earthly abodes found destitute, unhealing
in the dim twilight of history's
unfolding of the Logos.

And we are left hanging in
the age of the world's dark night.
Long is the turning this side of the abyss.

The remoteness of the Holy discloses its presence;
fugitive gods made manifest
in the acts of godless men.

The inner recalling of those who are most daring
summons forth the surpassing,
an openness to the ineffable.

And in their nameless sorrow all is preserved.
Hölderlin was a German Romantic poet of the 18th and 19th centuries. He wrote, among other themes, of the twilight of the classical Greek gods. The philosopher Nietzsche picked up on this idea, applying it to Christianity, in his book "Twilight of the Idols."
Yanamari Mar 2023
We are the children of tradition
In an untraditional society
We are the children of progression
In an unprogressing society
We are the children of peace
In an unpeaceful society
Meshing together these inconsistencies
As human nature
And as differences irreconcilable
Like ripping stitches out of a deep wound
And those hurt from the stitches ripped not considered
Just the remaining wound sitting in the middle of two parts of skin
And we keep it that way
Say the wound can be covered with a band aid
Unhealing
Coveted
Yet a chosen problem to remain
Both skin one and the same
Wound hurting
Deep and unhealthy
Yet both sides claim they are healing from
The deep hurt at bay
Unseeing of the weeping sway
That stops and dries, for birthing in these conditions can only exhaust and fray
Ply out the mercy sowed into each and every cell
Yet we are still
All skin and clay
From one and the same

If only these wounds never came to be
Jane May 2021
I want to purge every painful memory
Incindiary- exorcise my ghosts of the past
Pouring salt on invisible wound, infected and unhealing
Incapable of moving on, crossing over
Letting go and fighting fair

Arm hairs upright
Muscles fraught with anguish
Unable to extinguish the barrage of remembrance assaulting my senses
White-hot on my eyelids and blackened ash on my tongue
With the tears and the lies

Exorcise my anger
Let out the snarling mongrel
Limping and fiercely protective of every vulnerability
No ability to let go or let loose or let up
Because it only leads to new scars in old wounds

Make room for stillness
For connection, soft and gentle affection
Tactile love and visible satisfaction
Undeniable pride and ephemeral wonder
That I'm here and living and alive
Healing but it feels like drowning

— The End —