Unpolite poems on Hello Poetry

OblertPumpernikle Apr 2017

This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.

This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.

Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman.

A good poem

OblertPumpernikle Apr 2017

Michael Myers VS Spiderman

This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.

This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.

Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman

Sweet Poem

Ricardo Apr 2021

An awful soul

Why is the sky falling?
Why are we looking at empty loves?
Why do we cry when we hear his voice calling?
Why am I sunk fighting with my heart to shoves?
That's because we are smiling while lying.

When will we be able to fulfil our wish?
When will you stop being unpolite and selfish?
When are we supposed to be ourselves?
When am I will be out to you step by step?
The day you start hurting me again.

We are flying through blue fire,
make me cry again, please, is my desire.
You string my heart with a burning spire.
You're helping me to be a perfect lier.
Will you someday pretend to be a lily?

Questions and doubts we are paying,
people disappearing and staying,
melancholic songs are at night playing,
and I am here writing about someone who never exists before.

#love #melancholic

— The End —