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Lost in shadows Dec 2013
we met
we had ***
it was not great
build up was better than the act.
you bled
you stopped crying
we tried *** again but it hurt you.
last shot
tried holding you
was not feeling you sorry
wish it had worked
was not in the cards for us
if it had worked
new years day would be great.
you went home
you called me once
you asked if I loved you.
how can I love you?
we are strangers
we met
we had bad ***
how can I love you it was only ***?
how could I know
how could I know you were untouched?
****** dancing
rubbing your hot *** against me
you me kissing
at the bar
you throwing back
gin and tonics like a pro
we got drunk
we staggered out to parking lot
it was dark
I felt you up and down
you want me I wanted you
we had *** and it was only ***
with no feelings.
you hung up
end of that ****
new day
new year in three days.
I feel validated
validated for taking your virginity.
you offered
and i willingly took your offering.
legs spread
bad *** with you
you thought it was love
was not for me
you saying take me
do i feel guilt?
no way!!!
Jord Apr 2018
Remember what it's like to be a person.
Remember that people only want to be loved and validated.

Remember what it feels like to make a life long friend in twenty minutes by simply picking up our instruments and playing the first thing that comes to our heads.
Remember when that song is over and you forget how to play it immediately.
Remember knowing you will never have that moment again,
creating a painting of an experience in your mind forever.

Remember when the song is over and you play a new one.

remember what it's like to attempt to use keyboard shortcuts when writing freely and recognizing how accustomed to my surroundings I am.

Remember what it's like to be a person.
Remember that people only want to be loved and validated.
Pierson Pflieger Apr 2012
A bright light annoys my eyes.    I can’t get away from it- I don’t like it.  
Tired and overwhelmed with obligations and requirements,
I’d rather not complete or even think of-
I’d rather they did not exist.  

What do they prove?  

I am comfortable and lazy.  
I would like to sleep, but the smallest agitations are an unbearable annoyance.  
Obnoxious voices speaking a tongue I don’t know, laughing at my condition-
I’d rather be asleep-
quiet and asleep.  

I want a cigarette.  I hate cigarettes.  
I don’t hate cigarettes; I rather like them, especially with coffee,
but I hate how they manipulate me.  
I want one, but I’d rather sleep.  
I wish I could smoke in bed.  
I should have showered before bed.

Self-confidence comes and goes.  
Sometimes I don’t care what people think; other times it’s all I think about.  
It’s judgmental; it’s worry of acceptance, worry of not belonging, worry of standing out.  
People- including me- want to be individuals, but are not brave enough.  
Society does not accept true individuals, it kills them.  
How can I be unique or allow true self to be and true identity to exist when there is fear?

When I see her, I wonder what might have been.  
There was a connection, or maybe just an attraction.  
We lead different lives.  
She is pure and good in the church sense; I am pure and good in my own way.  
But, these two lifestyles could never intertwine.  
I must admire what she is from a far.  
I should not dwell on it too much because it is unfair to the present.  
We always want to know.  
We want to know the future, but I will get there at my own pace.

Lying in bed, I don’t remember most days.  
I only remember lying in bed the prior night, trying to remember the previous day.  
Sometimes I hate my body- not enough muscle, skinny legs, blah hair.  
Against society's standards I am mediocre.  
They know what a man should look like; I am not him.  
We are all not the portrayed he or she.  
Those people only exist on screens.  

This is the last place I want to be.  
Stuck in a class I couldn’t give a **** about,
listening to a Professor I can’t understand drone on and on in his sing-song,
marbled-mouth accent.  
Occasionally trying my patience with a drawn out, “You noh wah I main?”  
No.
I don’t know what you mean.  
I can’t understand what’s coming out of your mouth.

Apparently, the only way to be a good teacher is to jump through hoops and
dance for the cloudy heads of a department.  
If I play their games, I will have blisters on my lips from having to kiss too much ***.  
I do not need to be validated, approved, passed, accepted, or liked by them to be a good teacher.  
I know I will be a good teacher- they have no influence on that.  
They only have the ability to stall me and help steal my money.

The worst is when the pain sinks into your eyes, dull and deep.  
The pressure tunnels around your temples and tries to bore a whole through your forehead.  
Six Advil cover up the pain- only for an hour.  
Everything within your skull pushes out like a balloon on the brink of bursting.

The worst is the restless anxiety experienced lying in bed right before sleep.  
It is the empty churning of stomach, half shots of adrenaline that tickle your veins,
while the mind races like prey trying to evade predatory jaws.  
Your heart flits, skips, and stops,
as your mind obsesses about the seemingly infinite list of things you have to get done.  
That only adds to the stress- since you’re not sleeping, something could be accomplished.  
The worry heightens, the obsession increases until- sleep.

An instant of eye contact can be rare and intriguing.  
Instants too small to have time, can convey so much.  
Eye line meets eyes, eyes lock- message of vast information conveyed.  
A minute moment, an insignificant second, so monumental.  
This blip exchange ignites an internal fire of emotion or ruins your day.  
The messages that can be exchanged in the smallest,
feasible time frame are vastly unique to each experience.  
Polar and extreme: Love me - I nothing you.  
Eye contact conveys an incredible amount of information, but perhaps to be keen to it-
is to be vulnerable.  

What if it were acceptable to give into every desire or want?  
What would the world be?  
Would it be that much different or would the internal, human morale still enforce invisible boundaries?  
What would we do?  
Would the private become public?  
Would others see our lowest animal drive?  
Humans are the only being capable of acting above or below their nature.  
Rough.
Raw.  
Human animals.

It is ironic when something is built up to high expectations, but turns out anticlimactic.  
Was that it?  
That is what we waited for?  
When something does not meet expectations, it creates hollowness, an emptiness, or unfilled hole.
  
What do you do?  
What can you do?  
You can learn from it or you can let it bring you down.  
It is better to look for the positives
than dwell on and become disheartened by the negatives.  
Learn and Grow.

I am a poor student.  
I have been loaned money I will never be able to pay back.  
I am paying for a degree, to get a job that will never return the favor.  
I am strangling myself financially for a “higher education”, but am I getting it?  
Perhaps it is not the institution’s fault; perhaps, it’s my own?  

so much depends
upon

a green dollar
bill

glazed with American
greed

beside the fabricated
dream

I am poor and will be poor, but I will be happy.  
Everything costs.  Everything has a price.  Life is expensive.  
How can I save?  What can I afford to put away?  
When forty dollars in your bank account is a pleasant surprise-
surprises are cheap.
This is a piece I wrote for a class while in school.  The goal of the assignment was to capture "agitated consciousness" (write the moment you wake up, experience high or low emotions, right before falling asleep).  First thought, best thought.  I recently found this and have only made minor changes.  It is not my favorite piece I have ever written, but there are moments I enjoy.  If you have never tried to write like this, I would encourage it.  It's challenging, fun, frustrating, and revealing.  Thanks for reading.
george glass Jul 2016
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that will never.
the world lied to you
since you were old enough
to balance a book
to listen, retain,
consume without question

i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that informed you
your value is calculated
by the sum of your parts
that you are worth the contrast of fat deposits
over the angles of fragile bones

i would like to apologize on behalf
of those pining characters they wrote you,
every soul with a haunting disposition
who was given the noble ambition
to invoke longing within those
that remain on the outside
of the glass

because the songs that were sung on the radio
cast you as the the inspiration
but when they painted you lips for love
they denied you the language of narration
and you lived your life thinking
you could invoke magic
if you were only willing
to wait your entire life
for someone else to conjure it

i am sorry
that we filled your head
with empty adjectives
to whisper in your ear
that you were nothing
unless validated by the eyes of strangers
seeing you as nothing more
than a commodity
for which to window shop
and consume

and when they abandoned their casual browsing
their wants transcended your right
to exist
and it was you
they chose to invade
to tear open
because after all,
you were man made
a nail scratching a rib
a void to fill up
with whatever poison they thought you’d look sexier
choking on

dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of the fact that you remain unnamed,
an improper noun
a caricature,
a statistic,
a silhouette on the back window
mouth a perfect oh
that will never know words

i am sorry that the second
you entered the world with two X’s
they would reduce you
to an exquisite tragedy,
place them over your eyes
and declare that the death of a beautiful woman
is the most poetic thing in the world

i would like to apologize
because this world was never
quite big enough to hold you
and we knew
and we saw
and we opened our mouths,
took a breath,
and we closed them
Deb Jones May 2018
I thought I forgave you.
I told you I did.

I meant it at the time.
Or thought I spoke the truth.

How casually you mentioned it
In the dark, drinking a beer.

“Remember when we were kids
You said “That’s how kids are”

“Besides” you said.
“It was only touching”

That continued even when
You were home after boot camp

I felt hot in the dark
I thought I had been stamped

Signed, sealed. Validated.
But it wasn’t enough.

You took something that shaped me.
And made it sound like crumbs.

Casually brushed away.
In an adult voice filled with scorn

Minimized.
Justified?

You were 15.
I was 10

Then I was 14
And you were 19

A beautiful boy- man
Loved and admired by all

I know you tried with our sisters.
They all told you no.

I never thought to say no.
Always pretending I was asleep.

Because of your shame
You hated me. I was a pariah.

You didn’t have the willpower
To stop yourself

See, brother of mine.
See how you shaped me?

Now I am an adult
And one of the hats I wear

Is as a **** Crisis counselor
Holding hands in the Emergency Room

During the **** kit examination

Of girls and women
That were ***** or molested in various ways

Various ways.....
With different words to describe what happened

Even different body parts.
How do we treat a young girl

That doesn’t even know
The word ******?

Who thinks that she was ***** where she pees.

For myself?
I did forgive you.

I put a letter in your coffin
You were Thirty-three
I was Twenty-eight

Faulty pistol, bled out,
Two hour wait for the ambulance.

Your head cradled by a woman
Who soothed and comforted you

Surrounded by our father
And dozens of your friends

I forgave you finally.
Completely.

I never stopped loving you.
Is that worth saying?

Why does death feel like
We have to whitewash the truth
Joshua Vincens Apr 2013
Ya wonda why I'm filled with so much passion and rage/
But that's what happ'n when ya lessen a man to a cage/
I haven't even unleashed the darkness/
Imagine a soul that's cold 'n' heartless/
Crowley is weak compared to the I beast/
Within me, 'n He I now release/
It in I and we have begun to feast/
Spit it out/
Shut ya impudent mouth n listen/
Time ta quit ya ******' insolent dissin'/
Check me out I'm hookless/
Reckless/
You follow the text n I'm bookless/
Check this/
Determination look me in my Eyes/
Ya gunna stay in tha gutta, ***** *****, just to watch me rise/
RA!/
I am incomparable/
Can't match  me, I'm too lyrical/
I am a spastic assassin/
Breath deep/
I am the heir, with anthrax-in/
How I see it, You nuttin' but fails/
You in a row boat *****, n my ***** got sails/
Ya call me crazy/
Ya vision is hazy/
And ya thinkin is lazy/
What I know would make ya a sage see/
I'm filled with these higher optics/
Shouldn't need a telescope ta spot this/
But you do/
What, Hoss is up, Livin life in love/
'N neva givin' a ****/
Crowned/
I Come here to shut ya ta hell down/
------------Chorus-----------
Duranged/
It's Dark n Strange/
Quit ya askin', 'What am I?'/
Darkness Fire burnin' opaque, I neva Die/
Strange Set by Ra, Look to tha Sky/
Nothin' weirder than I/
So Dark N Strange/
I Am, Cryptic Poetic Hark outta Range/
Who is, Dark n Strange/
Ya frightened of tha Wakin' Age/
Ya tormented by hæmaluna change/
IT'S NOW/
Needa label me "I Am" - The Omnipotent is Dark n Strange!/

------------------Verse 2--------------------------------
I'm spittin' real ****, so consider me exlax/
Banishing the lies, I'm leavin'em just facts/
True talk is how this ****'s gunna torment Ya/
Break ya Soul if ya fearin' It, I'm thinkin' torture/
Wake Up/
No fire to go with  your sulfur/
Poor tormented Souls end of time to torch ya/
Flowin' hot speakin' blazen fluid/
Become a fire frequency king druid/
Remain in vain and **** it, You'll die morbid/
In days last You'll be over timid/
Skinnin' weak people like piglets/
Label me 'Naught' I've no limits/
I'm life Livin'  in center aligned/
Tippin' scales them ******' swine/
Ascend win twin minds combine/
Balancing act Life's **** or 'dalini/
Rise Up/
I'm beastin' the intensity/
I climb ladders frequently/
******' sick of livin' hell I harmonize Energy/
Mind insane I'm bringin' ******* madness/
Lost senses found you still sittin' sadness/
Be More/
I'm mastering levels with the Dodecahedron/
Ya livin' lame that's ya lazy ******' conundrum/
I get pure data that's distilled in a cauldron/
Most minds are piles of **** like postmortem/
Abominations bossin' somniliquists with abhorrence/
Only condemnation for such ******' malevolence/
Opened eyes providing ya with luminescence/
End for all contempt contrite by due reverence/

-------Chorus-----------
Duranged/
It's Dark n Strange/
Quit ya askin', 'What am I?'/
Darkness Fire burnin' opaque, I neva Die/
Strange Set by Ra, Look to tha Sky/
Nothin' weirder than I/
So Dark N Strange/
I Am, Cryptic Poetic Hark outta Range/
Who is, Dark n Strange/
Ya frightened of tha Wakin' Age/
Ya tormented by hæmaluna change/
IT'S NOW/
Needa label me "I Am" - The Omnipotent is Dark n Strange/

---------Verse 3----------------------------
I'm Clinically Fearless... Absolutely scared of none/
You're afraid of my haunted paradox... Defined me Fearsome/
I'm sick of this ****** lost society/
Living a worthless illusion no reality/
What is it/
Mass Individuals stuck in egotistical vanities?/
I am goin' crazy contemplatin' such insanity!/
Can't you see/
This is the path of demise for humanity/
You need a hand, so sad/
Refused for me to help you, your bad/
To hear this/
You need to wear a mental harness/
This is the seed of my soul's darkness/
Everybody does share none and lives careless!/
The fruit is hard truth, Ya life is hopeless!/
There's tha gun, here's tha trigger- PULL THIS!/
Should have been Tempus Fugit as We Carpe Diem/
Too late tempers temp-is ****-it Masses parley Global Requiem/
Yeah I know my process is dark & strange/
My mind is warped definitely it is deranged/
After all I Sow & Reap for simple change/
Here is wisdom, which is validated by three/
Blow your ears & gouge your eyes, than you will see/
Divide by none return to your commUnity/
The end of my advice, now reach for DivUnity!

-------Chorus-----------
Duranged/
It's Dark n Strange/
Quit ya askin', 'What am I?'/
Darkness Fire burnin' opaque, I neva Die/
Strange Set by Ra, Look to tha Sky/
Nothin' weirder than I/
So Dark N Strange/
I Am, Cryptic Poetic Hark outta Range/
Who is, Dark n Strange/
Ya frightened of tha wakin' age/
Ya tormented by hæmaluna change/
IT'S NOW/
Needa label me "I Am" - **The Omnipotent is Dark n Strange!
I was not always who I am,
In fact, I don't even resemble my previous self.
My friends, if in fact you are reading this,
Put all your old memories on a shelf.


Do you remember the freshman who was always quiet?
The one you might have seen down the hall?
The one everyone called a friend,
But never really knew at all?

You know the one, how can you forget,
His shoes and shaggy hair?
The way he smiled to himself,
When you didn't notice that he was there?

Do you remember the timid laughter,
As he struggled to fit in?
Coming to the monstrous place,
Where not a single person knew him.

I'll bet you never knew.
No, I know you never did.
All the feelings, thoughts, words, actions,
Were all the things he ever hid.

He strut his stuff down dusty hallways,
Secretly hating the way he was.
Incapacitated by his own ignorance,
Choosing to just accept his flaws.


Do you remember the sophomore who always smiled?
The one who was called the nicest boy?
Of course you do, everyone does,
You said his presence was enjoyed.

This was the year he began to see,
The direction his life was going.
He stopped dead, shocked, in his tracks,
When he saw was he was becoming.

He hated himself to the point of breaking,
But he didn't break, he just bent.
He resigned himself, accepted his fate,
As his heart and confidence were rent.

He receded into himself and his life,
Refusing to push harder; to push on.
If only the poor idiot had known,
He could have worked to a faster dawn.

But instead he became lazy,
People only knew him as the nice guy.
And for a while he was satisfied,
Until he found the final question: Why?


Do you remember the junior who always looked high?
As though his mind was always far away?
Of course you do, everyone does.
Because that was the year he learned to play.

That was the year that people finally saw,
Another side to the quiet, nice guy.
That was the year that would change everything,
Because he decided to change what was inside.

"Why?" is such a simple question,
But one that entails the entirety of life.
It was in this search that the boy,
Found something deeper in all his strife.

This was the beginning of a new path,
One that took years to complete.
But it was one that led him higher,
A throne to replace his lowly seat.

He finally learned to love himself,
He learned to throw caution to the wind.
He learned to build and better himself,
He finally learned to love again.

These things did not come easily,
Nor were they close to instant.
The path was long and tedious,
But the boy was finally persistent.

Only a small change was noticed,
He took his seat among varsity ranks.
People noticed a personality,
Where once before had seemed so blank.

The few who he let closest,
Noticed something deep within him first.
Two helped him build and grow,
One tried taking his potential for herself.

Fighting through he found himself,
Another year had passed him by.
But what the boy finally knew,
Was that he could change who he was inside.

Do you remember that one senior boy,
Who walked the halls with a grin and hint of swagger?
Of course you do, how could you forget,
This was the year that boy became bigger.

He suddenly wasn't just the quiet or nice guy,
Everyone looked on as if he were new.
What was the confidence that was in his eyes,
Where once only weakness and fear grew?

This was the question everyone asked him,
The one that everyone wanted to know.
What had happened over that summer,
That caused this whole new person to show?

He couldn't give them an answer,
How could he describe what he had done?
How could have possibly explain,
That he had learned to let go, live, and love?

Suddenly the ones who had ignored him,
Were asking him for his advice.
It felt so good to be validated,
After a lifetime of cowardice.

Do you remember the first game of the season,
When he blew the crowd away?
The ferocity and abandon that he carried,
It was his new favorite way to play.

Do you remember the first dance of the year,
When suddenly he was dating the track star?
Nobody could believe she came onto him,
The quiet boy who had come so far.

Do you remember how he was suddenly important?
It was because he knew all the dark and ***** secrets.
The quiet boy you thought meant nothing,
Suddenly knew everyone's weakness.

Do you remember how he led the class?
He was suddenly leadership material.
You cheered him and his team,
When the trophy was hung with his orange Mercurials.

Only one person thought to ask him,
What exactly had happened, what had changed?
He smiled quietly, once again and said,
I let myself out of my cage.

It took four years for him to love himself,
To find confidence among his fears.
To build himself into a better person,
To gain the respect of all his peers.

The hardest part throughout it all,
Was not to feed on his new found pride.
To retain the innocence of his past,
And somehow keep kindness in his stride.

He was voted friends with everyone,
And indeed, he truly was.
An entire school known by name,
He graduated to thunderous applause.


Do you remember the college freshman?
No, of course you don't.
You haven't really met him yet,
Most of you probably won't.

He's doing well, the quiet boy,
He finally found a balance in good and pride.
He thanks you for teaching him about himself,
The testing grounds where he reached inside.

He thanks you for being exactly what you were,
Some kind, some not, some indifferent.
Without each and everyone one of you,
He might have remained weak and ignorant.

Now he lives his life the best he can,
Living and loving each and every day.
He lets cares pass him all by,
Only letting peace and happiness stay.

He learned to love himself,
That the most important of all that changed.
The confidence and wisdom inspired him,
To live his life unchained.

Surrounding himself with the best people,
Loving life and all its trials.
Holding those he cares about,
Almost forgetting the quiet boy in denial.


I've written here about who I was,
Because it defines who I am today.
I am no longer the weak, quiet boy,
I think the confidence is here to stay.

Learning to love myself,
Was the key to my happiness.
Everything good that has happened since,
Is a result of choosing to leave the sadness.

I write not for my own vindication,
Although in hindsight, it sounds this way.
I merely wish to express my changes,
In as few memories as I must say.

I've lost precious minutes here,
Typing out this soliloquy.
And now I fear that it must end,
There is more life for me to see.

Here I go, into the night,
Who knows what I will find.
I love to live my amazing life,
With this peaceful state of mind.
I realized that I am at an extremely happy moment in my life and I wanted to spend some time remembering how I got here. All of the toils and troubles and terrible experiences that I had have culminated to this one moment, this one day, this one year. Every choice I made, every word I said has been working towards the state of happiness I now experience. If I write with more than a hint of ego it is because I do feel pride for having come so far from the person I used to be.
Dondaycee Sep 2018
I don’t know if 1 +1 = 2,
If I had to count I’d point at you and you,
I don’t know how to subtract one but if one person leaves I’d be pointing at the one I didn’t lose,
I don’t know how to learn from a book,
I thought knowledge was attained through experience;
How did that turn into labeling kids with disorders; as if the archetypes that are non linear were mysterious,
We call our kids special,
Treat them different,
As if that type of nurturement were helpful;
Baffled, because these types of accusations exploit a misunderstanding that’s serious,
He learned about friendship through Toy Story,
He learned about friendship through war stories,
His imagination gave life to toys; they created the picture after that,
His application made a child a boy; a missing picture was aftermath,
He promised to never forget the love he gave before moving,
He had an obligation to forget the meaning of love before duty,
Friendship was movie,
Friendship was duty,
We may learn different; but are we truly?

We used to take these things slow,
We was too young, we used bowls,
Blunts only came with the shows,
High only came without goals,
Now I don’t even have bros,
And this was the life that I chose,
Love was up under the nose,
Had to let go, I couldn’t show,
Experiences hurt me the most,
What is a home, I am alone,
Finding my life in a post,
It’s cutting close…

Eyes closed; I feel uncomfortable in the physical,
**** me please; I find normal in the mystical,
I don’t mean to be dark but its the psychedelics that make life livable;
Jedi flipping with acid and molly,
The fungi was just a treat,
Confronting thoughts nowadays because earlier we didn’t meet,
Something went wrong; I.e. unbalanced,
Destiny discrete; to meet was an unbound chance,
And I couldn’t time it,
Now every word spoken is a time I didn’t speak,
I try to stretch my mind to find the other reality,
The gravity of this situation is projecting real without me;
Whatever happened to Chinese philosophy,
The time in which I was I and death was life and opportunity expressed divine in a time frame where we were destined to be...

Color me your color baby,
I know where you are,
Cover me your love is fading,
We shouldn’t have been too far,

I’m not happy with the results,
Ignorance is the reason I accept it,
Nothing’s expected, but I’m praying that I eject the next second,
I can only be respected after neglection,
I’m better off expressing a resurrection,
Left too early and life says it’s right,
Lead loaded caskets; well I’ll continue to write,
Left hand can be now, tomorrow’s my right,
Wait…
Happy nation, living in a happy nation,
“where the people understand andd dream of perfect man”;
WAIT...
Where’s my patience; I’m living in a happy nation,
We the people understand andd dream a perfect plan,
And I keep waiting for being to become our way in…

I want to be quiet, this is a crash,
I’m lacking nutrients; that’s my validation on why I’m thinking bad,
I’m thinking pessimistic; “She’s the best I nevver hadd” or “I swear I’m always thinking sad”,
This is the illusion, and I ain’t alluding,
I never picked a side my friend.

I took a breath to channel my inner jedi,
Lili was a witness, however she’d  disagree,
I told her , “we are god”; she had a different belief,
I stopped that ****, the fun guy was keeping me head high; I told her I accepted her the moment she accepted me,
There was a sudden relief,
I was expressing a lesson and received a blessing in the form of treat,
Now I am stuck in disbelief,
Because I literally experienced my mind and became a Jedi,
Existence itself only validated one thing, and that is the existence of me.
Kara Jean May 2016
Downfall she claims
Dripping in disease
Her dress ripped
Trees dying
Holes cover the seams
Tattered
Sewage covered
Disgraced
Ugly
Taking her vitality
The mass living upon her soil
Population at a high
Charging her for corruption
Her hair cut
In shambles
Uneven proportioned
Greed is the man in lead
Unfairly held to shame
Her belly rumbles
Earthquakes
Crack her skin
Aching
Oozing her blood
Tsunamis wiping out existence
She violently
Throws tantrums
A twister destroying houses
Seeking attention
Under validated
Unnoticed for exotic jungle humanity
Innocence
Her music lifts
The mountain breeze
Sagebrush rustles
Birds whisper
Squirrels leaping
Her captivating body sings
Weak man made her break
Small art gone
Ice caps melting into the abyss
Taking scraps
Leftover bits
Her soul
Missing
Stipping her clothing
******* her gold
Her shirt selfishly torn
Naked she became
Her animals hungry
Oceans sickened
Our anguish
Is revenge
Knocked out
She's becoming manipulated belief
She's in debt to the population
Mother will reclaim
Her dynasty
We the people will be left
In emptiness
Ashley Black Jan 2017
What makes me horribly gut-wrenchingly sad,
is that at my weakest moments,
I didn’t even think I deserved my tears.
Like somehow,
in the grand scheme of things,
My pain isn’t validated.
Others have suffered worse,
Why should I think I deserve to cry?
What a low place to fall.
That even my agony was a Flaw.
Joshua Haines Sep 2016
Chainsmoking menthols,
creating clouds on parade.
Living in the dark;
frenching hurt that I've made.
There's a sadness in my comfort
and a comfort in my sadness.
***, fame, ******* down
commercialized madness.

I don't dream of pornstars
as much as I dream of clothes.
Videogames to escape it all,
carbon monoxide through my nose.
Too good for this and that;
entitlement at an all-time high.
Doing television to help me live,
or maybe to help me die.

Spotify for the masses
beating in my brain.
Youtube and pornhub
to make me feel the same
as the lost I compare to myself
and the celebs I want to be.
I want to be on edge, rich, validated;
I want to live in a fractured harmony.
Joshua Vincens Oct 2012
Ya wonda why I'm filled with so much passion and rage/
But that's what happ'n when ya lessen a man to a cage/
I haven't even unleashed the darkness/
Imagine a soul that's heartless/
Crowley is weak compared to the I beast/
Within me, 'n He I now release/
It in I and we have begun to feast/
Spit it out
Shut ya impudent mouth n listen/
Time ta quit ya ******' insolent dissin'/
Check me out I'm hookless/
Reckless/
You follow the text n I'm bookless/
Check this/
Determination look me in my Eyes/
Ya gunna stay in tha gutta, ***** *****, just to watch me rise/
RA!/
I am incomparable/
Can't match  me, I'm too lyrical/
I am an assassin/
Breath deep,
I am the heir, with anthrax-in/
How I see it, You nuttin' but fails/
You in a row boat *****, n my ***** got sails/
Ya call me crazy/
Ya vision is hazy/
And ya thinkin is lazy/
What I know would make ya a sage see/
I'm filled with these higher optics/
Shouldn't need a telescope ta spot this/
but you do
What/
Hoss is Down, Livin life like  love/
'N neva givin' a ****/
I Come here to shut ya ta Hell up/
------------Chorus-----------
Duranged/
It's Dark n Strange/
You askin', "What am I"/
Darkness Fire burnin' opaque, I neva Die/
Strange Set by Ra, Look to tha Sky/
Nothin' weirder than I/
So Dark N Strange
I Am, Cryptic Poetic Hark outta Range/
Who is, Dark n Strange/
Ya frightened of tha commin' age/
Ya too tormented by change/
IT'S NOW
Needa label me "I Am" - The Omnipotent is Dark n Strange!

------------------Verse 2--------------------------------
I'm Clinically Fearless... Absolutely scared of none/
You're afraid of my haunted paradox... Defined me Fearsome/
I'm sick of this ****** society/
Living a worthless illusion no reality/
what is it
Mass Individuals stuck in egotistical vanities?/
I am goin' crazy contemplatin' such insanity!/
Can't you see
This is the path of demise for humanity/
You need a hand, so sad/
Refused for me to help you, your bad/
To hear this/
You need to wear a mental harness/
This is the seed of my soul's darkness/
Everybody does share none and lives careless!/
The fruit is hard truth, Ya life is hopeless!/
There's tha gun, here's tha trigger- PULL THIS!/
Should have been Tempus Fugit as We Carpe Diem/
Too late tempers temp-is ****-it Masses parley Global Requiem/
Yeah I know my process is dark & strange/
My mind is warped definitely it is deranged/
After all I Sow & Reap for simple change/
Here is wisdom, which is validated by three/
Blow your ears & gouge your eyes, than you will see/
Divide by none return to your commUnity/
The end of my advice, now reach for DivUnity!

-------Chorus x2-----------
Duranged/
It's Dark n Strange/
You askin', "What am I"/
Darkness Fire burnin' opaque, I neva Die/
Strange Set by Ra, Look to tha Sky/
Nothin' weirder than I/
So Dark N Strange
I Am, Cryptic Poetic Hark outta Range/
Who is, Dark n Strange/
Ya frightened of tha commin' age/
Ya too tormented by change/
IT'S NOW
Needa label me "I Am" - The Omnipotent is Dark n Strange!
Please, I would love to know your thoughts on this lyric? Out of curiosity, do you think I should write another verse or leave it as is? I would love to receive some advice if there is any you wish to share?
Brider Olen Jan 2017
"What does it feel like to be borderline?"

I have never been able to explain BPD in a way that satisfies me. What I experience becomes trivialized by attempting to put words to it. Words are so direct and they are so obvious, and they aren’t even close to capable of capturing the complexity and the mystery that is BPD. But I can try.

It feels like black and white and nothing in between.
Every thing, every person, every place – they are either good or they are bad. I am either good or I am bad. Constantly changing, never the same. Good girl, bad girl. Good self, bad self. Good friend, bad friend. Good mother, bad mother. I hate you, don’t leave me.

It feels overwhelming.
I don’t feel sadness, but anguish. I don’t feel upset, but hysterical. I don’t feel joy, but ecstasy. I don’t feel anger, but fury. Not love, but infatuation… obsession. It’s exhausting to feel so much. Relationships are endless cycles of love and hate and pain and bad habits that I can’t seem to break no matter how hard I try. Every new face that enters into my life is someone who is capable of abandonment, and it has become so much easier to shut the world out than to invite heartbreak into my home with open arms.

It feels empty.
At the core of my being, I am nothing. I’m an empty shell surrounded by the chaos that is my emotional havoc. Remove my emotions, and I am flat lined. Remove them and I no longer exist. No direction, no sense of self, no core identity. At the peak of an emotional breakdown, I am everything. I am every negative emotion in existence and then some. And I’m so alive with fury, with desolation, with misery, and with so much pain. When it becomes too much for my body and mind to handle, it disappears in such an eerie way that I’m left questioning whether or not what I just experienced was real. I switch back and forth from being too alive that it physically pains me, to being consumed by nothingness. Nothingness is sitting alone on my kitchen floor in the middle of the night wondering whether the chill I feel on my shoulder actually exists or not. Nothingness is staring off into space for an hour wondering when my body will allow me to exist again so that I can move.

It feels confusing.
Like not knowing the answer to a series of questions. Who am I? One question I feel that I should know the answer to, yet… nothing. My favorite color is yellow, because that’s what it was when I was a child. Decisions are impossible – how do you decide anything without a stable sense of identity? I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you what I wanted for dinner tonight, but that’s because I was trying to decide if I’m the type of person who likes Mexican or if I’m the type of person who likes Italian. I wake up each morning with a new definition of who I am, only to be let down by myself each night for not living up to the me that I decided to be that day.

It feels needy.
Endlessly, and hopelessly needy. I need to be appreciated. I need to be validated. I need to be wanted. I need to be loved. But I need these things in a way that is so much more than anyone is capable of giving me. It feels like such a small favor to ask – to be loved by those who are supposed to love me. But no one seems able to meet my expectations. It leaves me pathetically wondering whether or not anyone is capable of caring about me in a way that makes sense to me. And although I already know the answer, I still need to be loved so desperately that I search for it with everything that I have. It’s endless messages and too many phone calls. And it’s the knowledge that my actions are only perpetuating the likelihood of abandonment, but I need love so ******* badly that I have no choice but to continue.

It feels irrational.
Being capable of thinking rationally only makes the irrational behavior so much more miserable. The knowledge that behaving in reaction to emotion is irrational does not make me any less likely to do so. I’m constantly walking towards a cliff, muttering to myself, “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it.” Only to fall off the edge anyway. And every time I fall feels unimaginably more painful than the time before, but I don’t know how to stop.

It feels bright.
When I love, it is the single brightest thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. It’s so bright that it burns my eyes in a way that makes me see a life that I could have never imagined on my own. Without my darkness, I am on top of the world. Ecstasy is just as intense an emotion as misery, except that for me, it’s coated with anxiety and fear. I never quite know what to do with happiness, and before I have the chance to really enjoy it, it’s gone.

And it feels like being lost.
Lost in loneliness, lost in the vacillation of my emotions, lost in the insanity of knowing absolutely nothing about myself. My emotions are a language that I cannot speak, and they are winning the war that I am struggling to fight.
to be read aloud.
jim fry Nov 2010
the shadow works, 2005-2006

might as well keep them all together ...
a journey through the shadowz ...
through the possessions ...
through the hell ...
through me ...
through!
whew!

during this time, i sought support from an indian medicine man, a shaman, past life regression therapist, and a variety of other spiritual healers ... some of those, narrated in depth, elsewhere ...

the enclosed is probably not of interest to many,
understood, yet offered up,
as a journey,
narrated through times,
via rhymes


Heavy

May 6, 2005

I feel knee deep in a bog
Tackling responsibility for emotions
Are these weights a lesson
Projections reflected

I want things smooth
Light and carefree
I don’t seek control
But expect absence of impact

I can’t buy, reason or work
My way out of this challenge
Each time faced head on
I give up ground and accommodate
To point of compromise
No side is right here
What is, just is

I have my perceptions
And filters
And the weight intensifies
I want to dissolve it
Haven’t figured out how
Depression, heavy
Rooted inside

How do I break free
I feel alone
Even within myself
I don’t know
The reflection
In the mirror

There is a longing to be free
Unchained
Unbound
To live
To sleep
To find balance
Chasm

I want to be
What I feel I’m not
I don’t celebrate
What I perceive
Myself to be

I seek void
Death
Rebirth
Ha
Do this again
Easier
To take flight
Black
Grey
White

Tears
Rip across my chest
Seeking
To release my heart
Bound and chained
I want them to flow
Pent emotions
Seek exorcism

I haven’t surrendered
I don’t accept
Open I bleed
Closed I store pain

I want to feel flow

Nothing aligned
Empty I know
Torn
Shredded
Fragments and shards
Differentially
Scattered

Ungrounded
Not whole
I want to go home
Here come the tears
Smiles


Dark Envelop

July 9, 2005

Feeling my way through the illusion
Finding no solace in delusion
Have my angels found another to watch over
Are my whispers no longer heard and contemplated

As I believe I do my best
I don’t convince even myself
So much struggle and challenge
Why do I even travel
Away from my bed

Prodded along
Voices and dialogs
In my head

I could start again tomorrow
Wait, I have done that before
Somewhere within, my shadow sneers
Chaotic and off balance, I’m fodder
Material for my shadow’s jeers
******, ***** and stripped bare
Seeking a single reason to care
Am I victim to want it all fair

Now

I recognize this place
Hell etched in my face
I could so easily quit
Leave the game’s race
Always another will replace
Scripts each written on ****** mace

Not yet ready

Lessons to learn
Though I yearn
Tis not my time to rest
Not until this unconscious
With which I wrest
Is balanced and addressed
Then, only, will it be my turn
I’ll find some sun
Seek beauty and joy
Transcend this marathon run

I’m not the universe’s toy


Reflections from the Void

August 21, 2005

So, this is death!
all distractions departed
leaving emptiness, not loneliness
gnawing absence of purpose, manifests in tears

Purgatory,
between somethings that felt to have mattered
without logical linkage
between then, now and the next then

Transitions require momentum
energy is here, but failing direction
what pursuit of new experience calls
none … these moments

Sleep comes easy, frequently
no dreams revealed in the aftermode
void … passionless … lethargic … empty … void
emotionless?

Looking for some elixir
to heal, to know, to feel …
the game continues / with tears of the void
the potential unknown
I guess I do feel alone …

why … what the **** is the point … anyways …
does this rub … offend … ????

this, my creation, my expression of infinite potential, capacity, too bad that
I have no TV to distract …
guess I need to process through …

ps …
if you receive this – love you …
for what it is worth ...

I guess I am ‘OK’, just feeling my way through ………..


Heart of Sadness

November 6, 2005

Incredible, my heart screams of sadness
as I accept and surrender
Surrender to what I have wrought,
what I did from my state of pain

Our pain breeds more pain, often,
and feeds back upon itself
Amplifying toward a crescendo
of intensity felt viscerally

As our hearts ache
In deepening depression,
I feel spoiled that I want more
than I have
I feel I should harden up
and move forward,
towards, what …

If I harden up, I harden my heart
and it feels now is the moment
to dive into this pain,
to learn from this pain,
to grow from this pain,
to understand from this pain,
to rebuild my heart in an open way

Experience the pain in full color
experience the loneliness,
experience the emptiness,
experience my void,
experience my sorrow,
experience my defeat,
experience yet another death,
experience my drama,
experience my immaturity,
experience my dysfunctional self,
experience the consequences,
experience the responsibility,
experience the resentment of myself,
experience the anger at myself,
experience the pain,
experience the bleeding,
experience the desolation,
experience the emotions raw,
experience the tears,
experience the shredding in my heart

grow in compassion,
grow in empathy,
grow in unconditional love,
grow in reverence,
grow in acceptance,
grow in maturity,
grow in awareness

I don’t need to sacrifice,
I need to celebrate

I don’t need to enable,
I need to empower

I don’t need to think,
I need to feel

I don’t need to protect,
I need to love

I don’t need to speak,
I need to listen

I don’t need to hurt or project,
I need to heal


Returning Home, Changed

November 8, 2005

a lover scampered off
then returned past time
after everything shifted
in another’s heart
and mind

old windows shuttered
no quarter taken or given
thus tears held reign
from processed pain

now at an advanced arc
on the circle of love
lessons in alchemy
seem sent from above

this journey now vectored
with independent trajectories
finding different connection
within renewed reflection

the cat broke the home
the archer wandered on
now on new paths
each does roam

the cat is changing
experiencing nature anew
with life rearranging
deeply ranging

in love with you


Shadow Teachings

November 14, 2005

We have known all along
yet didn’t trust those feelings
As our subconscious takes charge
when we fall asleep at the wheel

Just as we continue to breathe
within each moment of slumber
Some segment within us
will always surface
to chart our courses

With each emotion left
unexpressed in the moment
another is drawn forth and purged

Cycling
Withhold, Withdraw, Project
The truth will set us free
If we have courage to reveal
And the truth clears out
emotions, two by two
one new, one buried
Creating space
allowing

Love,

Courage,

Creativity,

Understanding,

Joy­,

Celebration,

Illumination,

Growth,

LIFE

Express or Suppress

a Choice

of Voice

Opportunity found
in stormy weather
repairing the roof
in the rain

We may heal together
With whomever
NOW, then or never

It commences
via
loving thy self

Reinforced in experience
beyond words from
books on the shelf

WE WRITE OUR SCRIPTS

WE CREATE OUR EXPERIENCE

WE ARE RESPONSIBLE

WE ARE CREATORS CREATING

HOLD REVERENCE IN OUR POWER

FOR TRANSMUTING ENERGY

WITH LOVE


Be Impeccable of Word
(seasons of silence and truth to be expressed),

Don’t Take It Personal
(while observing the internal CHARGE!),

Don’t Make Assumptions
(they are mostly our projections!),

Do Your Best
(while ready for universal fireworks!)


Reflections Forward

November 30, 2005

Where am I going
with what I feel today
finding pure simplicity
laughter, being, love and play

Wisdom’s foundation built
on wisps of reflections past
absorbed experience
never allowed to wilt

My soul
has been heard
that incessant screaming
now
finally ceased
still raw
yet healing
moment
by moment
with each regression
new levels encountered
it was always
my lessons
cycling
for conclusion
the tool is divine
yet a challenge
to master
wanting
to be there
faster
just where
right here
presence
in now

Tao

honor in flow
faith in it all
no withdraw
from my call


Crumbles

Whelp, that was intense
Wrong words
Wrong tone
Wrong subject

How fast creation
changes
dissolves
and begins
Anew

Suddenly
all the discussion
all the plans
all the harmony
evaporated
reminding me
to look back within

I didn’t know
we were that fragile
without enough
foundation
relation

What does this circumstance
reflect about me
never independent
at least I remained calm
and found compassion
without projection

I honored the four agreements
as I watched you cry
as I absorbed the barbs flung
and chose not to deflect
mostly
silent
as I elected
to simply reflect
on your pain
your sorrow
that I couldn’t
prevent
heal
or soften

The dream has faded
the future now foggy
I know depression
I know sadness
I know empathy
and love

I choose life
I choose growth
I choose to heal
I choose to love

Paths feel divergent
with new adventure
just around the corner

I gave my love
my attention
affection
and soul

Angels!!!!!
support me now
as I shed these tears
listen as I call

I won’t stagger
much
I won’t fall
but face
unknown years
unknown fears

Nobody Knew Me

2006.01.31

No other soul
Experienced me
Fully authentic
As I lay hiding
From myself
Doubting
I could survive
Naked

When my Mother
Declared
My friend
And Lover
Was EVIL
My delusion
Fractured

Within moments
Over days
Illusions crumbled
Imploded
In fragments
Then shards
Of recognition
Crept
Then flooded in

I found myself
In darkness
Exposed and bare
I had strove
With my unique intensity

To be
Validated
Nurtured
Wanted
Touched
And Loved

To obtain these desires
I Compromised
I Manipulated
I Projected
I Overwhelmed

I would then Withdraw
I closed my eyes
Then my ears
Then my touch
Then my mind
And finally my heart

I wove stories
And swam, immersed
In my lies

My truth and core
Thus illuminated
In both peace
And tears of sorrow
I have been alone
I belong alone
I shall be alone
While I meet
Myself, now
Innocent
Again

I release Mom’s rejection
Transmuting her reflection
And transfiguring
Her projection

Thank you, Mother
You missed just one aspect

The EVIL was MINE
I created my experience
To break my own chains
Script complete
Curtain falls
No applause
No audience
Now
Silence

Nobody knew me
Not
Even
Me

Tears
Joy to follow


Unwelcome Back
2006.03.17

The dark visitors have arrived
and tears stream down my checks
are these demons
another component of ‘me’?

I call, sincerely
on angels and help
yet remain feeling
disconnected

Tonight was supposed to be
about sharing, growth
and healing
yet why, again
am I left reeling

Am I paying
for karmic bonds
both instant and past
is it time,
yet again,
to merely fast
to turn off these emotions
suppress yet another round

I have again
found the deep pain
why is it so hard
to love
and transcend my pain

There are keys
I haven’t yet found
there are messages
silent in sound

I don’t know myself
though I look with intensity
I apologize
here and now
for exposing myself
projecting myself
dragging anyone down
to my despair
felt beyond repair

Harr!

this IS the trap
feeling alone
feeling the sorrow
missing the balance
reveling in another tomorrow

This game is ****** up
get over it now
bring forth the light
shine in true essence
become
in presence
it is easy to quit
resign and give up

Hail beyond!!!!!!!!!
Creators transcend
right up
from the muck
Poetic T Aug 2018
Visual delusions:

Scrutinizing the acuity of
            what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.


Oral formalization

Dictation versed within syllable
            delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
          than what is breathed outwards.


Auditory silence

Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
           nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance
.
frankie crognale Oct 2014
i still remember the day i met you
it was in the middle of july or sometime around there and from the start i really really liked you but there were always doubts in the back of my head because why on this earth we live on would someone like you ever even merely want to breathe the same air as me let alone kiss me and put the same air into my lungs?
as beautiful as the thoughts of sharing the same air were the doubts were still there and even though they sometimes faded away they always seemed to come back especially when you showed me your favorite songs because i knew there was so much feeling behind the way you interpreted the lyrics and i didn’t understand any of it or maybe i just didn’t think of them the same way but you told me the night you were drunk that there was so much more to them than just silly nostalgia and it was then that i knew you weren’t good for me
the lyrics were a subliminal message to me that the air in our lungs wasn’t air at all it was actually every chemical in the cigarettes you smoke amplified by three thousand times and it only got worse every time you kissed me but i was okay with our lungs both being black because black is our favorite color
that’s the only thing we have in common
the texts during sixth period came to a sudden halt and so did the snapchats even though they were always of the ground and the skype calls at two am and the instagram likes and the you’re beautiful's and the i miss you's
you always said you’d keep your distance but i never thought you’d actually leave and i really didn’t think it would be without saying goodbye but it’s okay because now the fragments i spilled to this page are full sentences and everything is validated
maybe you only wanted to kiss me because you knew it charred the inside of me and turned me into your favorite color
i can breathe my own air now and maybe just maybe my lungs won’t be black anymore
*******
ABadPenname Apr 2015
Because Instagram is my medium, and because somewhere deep down--in that place that no one talks about--it makes me feel immensely validated: putting out my ******* and receiving little bits of peer approval in return... Because I still smoke too fast when I want that short indulgent rush to last the most, so light another. Because the Itunes visualizer is an assured source of inspiration when I am feeling small about the universe, and about the 5-ish senses that I am confined to, and because there is too much of me to simply be kept quiet; because the things I want are wanted too completely to shut up about. Because I am doing excellent, and I want everybody in the world to applaud me for it--for my relentless and unyielding grasp of sanity, which often slips without my sureness be-ing lost along with it, and because the wreckage is a comfy place to lie when everything comes down to it...
Because admitting to yourself that you are addicted is the first step to recovery--or so I am told,,, and because denial is the first step one must fall from if they're itching to reach bottom... Because I am tired of climbing and have learned--among all else--how to enjoy the weightlessness of this long fall and the uncertainty it brings: uncertainty being my one true love, alongside mistress logic, who I truly LOVE returning to with open arms, seeking her comfort after a long long trip-- where I can walk winter without minding cold, and can enjoy seeing all the sights and all the Mad, Mad characters that wonderland contains. Because there is no 'character limit' nor is there censorship where I am concerned. Because I crave the criticism: that repetition is a cheaters way to write--and I want to cheat life's limitations and all social standards every chance I get. Because above all else, below all else, I want to clarify that--through every lesson I have taken-in since recently deceased December, and through all I have learned painfully, through the confusion and unrecognized irrelevance,
Because the greatest thing that I have learned thus far is: I am learning.
Caitlin Drew Mar 2015
A month after radio silence,
seven cities away,
I heard you were with another girl
who was nothing like me.
I was told she resembled a koala
and that she laughed like a three car pile-up.
For a second, I thought maybe your red truck was involved.
I don't know why this caused me to lose sleep.
And still, I lay there
haunted by your phantom touch.
Thoughts of your hands refuse to yield
to the tangible distance of mine.

As such, I compiled a list of things to think of instead of you:

1) In 2014, Toyota recalled 690,000 U.S. Tacoma pick up trucks, model 2005-11 due to a rear suspension part that could break and possibly puncture the gas tank or damage a break line.
I guess that's why your breaks were always so bad.
And now you're with a girl
who sounds like the aftermath of devastation.
But hey, you're the one who has to live with that.
I actually hate all red trucks now by extension.
And now I'm thinking of you again. ****.

2) Red is the 5th most popular truck color.
I see it everywhere.
My heart beats faster in fear that one will be you.
It sinks when it's not.
But that's not important.

3) Kangaroos are part of the marsupial family.
They have begun to overpopulate in Australia.
Some have started to mitigate this by eating them for dinner.
Koalas are also marsupials.
I think they should be added to the menu as well.
It's not as though they ever contributed to anything.
All they do is eat and embrace being a pseudo-bear.
This is what you're dating.

4) In Spain, they use the endearment
"Tu media narunja"
which translates to
"You are the other half of my orange."
I always liked that.
I told you this in the letter I sent you.
But that was one of the letters that was returned.

5) Psychosomaticism is when a person starts to suffer physical illness
due to mental or emotional anguish.
This made me start to wonder,
people say that you can't die from a broken heart.
Maybe we have just convinced ourselves
that it was other factors.
However, we all know that the body cannot survive without a heart, and so if one were to give his or her heart to another,
and the carrier hypothetically took it to a medieval stretching device
and ripped it apart,
it would only lead to the conclusion
that broken hearts do cause death.
Maybe that's not the best thing to think about right now.

6) Buddhism.
The more I read about it, the cooler it seems.

7) Koalas can survive on a diet of eucalyptus leaves.
Eucalyptus leaves are poisonous to most animals.
That's just not normal.
If koalas went extinct within the next week,
I don't think I would mind. I'm starting to hate them more and more.


8) We went to the zoo when we first started dating.
I told you then how I didn't like koalas.
They're viscous troglodytes.
There's a picture of us from that day
placed in a collage I made for you.
It was still hanging at your parents place last I was there.
But that was back in November.
You probably took it down.

9) This list of distractions has failed at doing what it was supposed to do.

No matter how intent I am at being productive enough
to distract myself from your absence,
everything that didn't remind me of you
now reminds me of you.
I'm trying so hard to move on with my life,
but I can't stop thinking about
how much I hate
that you moved on faster than me.
That you don't miss me the way I miss you.
I'm still dealing with the loss of everything we were
and you already replaced me with a ******* koala.
I became everything I always wanted to be for you
and you became a stranger.
I hate that this list of distractions
just further validated how ingrained you were
in my whole world.
But ****...
Never mind.
CK Baker Jan 2017
Quiet are the fields
with ghosts
from pennants past
the aces
and cutters
set idly away
from the maple
spread fall
soft sounds
of Sunday
(chilling on the boneyard)
telling tales of
validated stars
and wheel house legends
the rally cap sluggers
with mahogany eyes

Mustard colors
in floating mists
give a bite
to sublime skies
scattered walkers
trip to the hole
their spit buckets
and spigots
pressed into
pure life form
bikers and loners
and curious coffee goers
mill about the horn
whispering numbers
from an old
Keelman heaving

Alley lookers
and Mendoza lines
screachers, bleachers
from years gone by
dancing fingers
and cracks at the bat
moonshots
(from the big time Timmy Jim)
the 9th inning gunner
with sinker
and slider
and imposing
brush back *****
the game day citizen
and dugout warrior
who lit it up
in Rockwell fame
Gotta love October, and the World Series!
Sarina Aug 2013
I live as if on an airplane
suffering the clouds and clear skies
the flat lands, forests,
and skylines I almost touch the
tips of.

My wings vary
from angelic to hard metal.

When I love,
it is like throwing flowers out of a
window, which land
perfectly in a girl's hair

but I still have a *******
that I can use on you
and be
completely warranted to do so.
Ryan Joseph Aug 2018
Yesterday, I saw someone got caught,
So it gives me of some feeling and thought,
That he were either drug addict or drunk,
But his face was a bit red, so it means he is drunk.

After a while, I came and I were near,
So I asked someone I knew, about what happened,
Then when he answered, there are someone crying full of tears,
Hollering, Depressed, yet the drunkard is regretting in his end.

Although after a few minutes, there is someone he knew came to him,
So I was curious what kind of relationship they were having,
Then someone talked that she is a sister on him,
And instead she would be mad but she was crying with its baby carrying.

Moreover, someone also I knew asked what were the reason he got caught,
So a civilian answered that because he was selling an illegal drugs called 'shabu' ,
Carrying plenty of money with some of a disastrous thoughts,
And when an hour came, a police asked and came through.

People were talking to each other, themselves, having a gossip and making an irrelevant information,
Without even knowing that people who are innocent are being involved,
Without even knowing that the drug pusher wasn't having a full intention,
Of selling an illegal drugs on which he resolved.

The truth nowadays, innocence is implicated,
a crime and simply a sin,
yet it wasn't even validated,
that an innocence would be a crime and thoroughly a sin.

Insatiable human being are foolish,
Taking a validated stuff just to satisfy themselves;
Must they just stay being upright and unselfish,
Instead of being so arrogant and being pessimistic towards themselves.
Because after all, the truth will always prevail.
Say no to drugs, stop being so down.
jeffrey conyers Jan 2013
The land of the free.
With so many people of pedigree.
Which makes us sounds like a dog.

As, we try to describe the way we are.
When speaking about our heritage.

I'm Irish American.
I'm Italian American.
I'm African American.
Or European American.
When simply stated about your race.

If you're American born.
You're American.
Verified and validated.

To be real.
To be true.
We're not complete sure who's what?
And who is who?

We just needs to correct ourself.

About, who we are?
Or think we are.

You might be American of Italian descent.
You might be American of African descent.
You might be American of Asian descent.
Or American of Irish descent.
Or European descent.

Where we all might be mixed to be kins?
When we think of only being friends.

We only see black and white in one country.
Which I never fiqure out the color.
None of the skin identify to the race.

But we see B and W on many application forms.
Which I have never figure out why?
Or less it's to discriminate from hiring.

But we always seems to blend in as one.
When some one attacks your country from a war.

Then color becomes second nature to us.
When we proudly states what country we belong.
And heritage doesn't get mention at all
Jerry Jan 2013
She's a selfish lover, armed with stunning beauty.
She hunts joyfully for an innocent & caring heart,
She wants to satisfy her longing spirit.

Self validation by conquered hearts.
Conquests, like trophies on a night stand.
Each victory validated by a wounded spirit.
Her potent satisfactions soon dwindles.

Repeated victories, must be obtained.
Scores of bleeding hearts form rivers of tears.
Each conquest screaming from nearby roof tops.
Her Reputation becomes known by many.

The walking wounded,
They protect their dulled spirit
With raised eyebrows and gently shaking heads,
With muffled voices they warn, she is trouble waiting to happen.

I have been bitten by her kind of love.
The sting lingers in my heart,
The scars noticeable in my spirit & in my eyes.

I have her disease now.
My heart longs for love.
Not for Revenge!
But, for recovery and for self validation!
Inspired by Jaishree Gargn, A poem called "I Want Trouble"
Comments welcomed.
Jason McCarthy Nov 2014
Hero got a phone call,
From the being with three eyes.
So often his existence,
Could be validated by advice.

It is then organised by rhythms,
So that the words solidify,
If the chaos cant be structured,
Then all vision is blinding light.

Hero said to the being,
“I fall in to infatuation with such ease.”
The being said, “You’re seeing,
Your own love reflectively.

“Your brains mirror neurone system,
Causes you to smile at a smile,
This mirroring of others,
Allows for formation of a tribe.

Now you know this wisdom,
Think of your romantic life.
The subject of your infatuation,
Did not cause your love inside.
The love all humans seek,
Is already in your possession,
Which is why the search feels bleak,
You’re hunting the impossible obsession.

You’re all looking for your lost keys,
Tearing everything apart,
All the while they’re in your hand,
Or your breast pocket by your heart.”

Hero nodded rhythmically,
But found it hard to understand,
“If the love’s inside of me,
Then how has any love began?”

“A lot of love is a product,
Of false infatuation;
Two people seeking it from each other,
And thus there is divorce and separation.

But true love is the love inside of you,
Which is the love of the universe,
If you can learn to embrace this,
Then it will free you of your curse.

The mirror neurone system also detects,
The love inside as if it was a grin.
Within another, you’re existing love will reflect,
And embrace and share this world that the two of you are in.

It’s not a swapping of hearts,
But a pressing of them together.
The look in her eyes was not the start,
The start of love was forever.”
Diane Dec 2017
It's easy to see why you fell in love with him,
It's easy to see why you hoped you found forever
But you didn't.
And that disappointment felt like a death
and you have been trapped between anger and denial
for four years.
You think you must bury him in order to bury your grief.
And convincing others of this too
has become a game
where you sleep and play
inside your litter box.
Now the feces of hatred and revenge
stick to your feet wherever you go.
You must turn him into a monster
by telling anyone who will listen
that he is haunting you—and you really want this to be true
because that would mean he was still interested in your life.
But when you are alone and still…you remember...
coffee and stories, genuine kindness
and you know, his only crime was breaking your heart.

I understand your heartbreak;
you saw your knight in shining armor,
The answer to your loneliness.
Your pathway out of poverty.
His demeanor is gentle,
his quiet, listening face
hears your words with truth and interest;
every sentence is allowed to live its full life
until you are validated and understood.
He is your biggest fan, a loving caregiver.
Children and animals are drawn to him
like a shepherd or a father or a friend.
We both know he gave 8 years to a child,
a paraplegic who wasn’t even his own.
Bathed him, carried him, wiped drool from his chin
and in between all the doctors, made him laugh.
He offers himself to everyone this way, so

I understand why losing him hurt you so wholly
I know this, because I love him too.
But I think you and I define love very differently;
I wouldn’t want someone whom I had to threaten to make him stay.
I wouldn’t derive my identity from an unspoken contract
or imaginary promises that I insisted he owed me.
I wouldn’t try to destroy another human being
for the sole purpose of hiding my own embarrassment.
You see, love would remember his beautiful soul
and love would sincerely want him to be happy

Even if that meant he found happiness without you.
A kind, self-sacrificing, honest man is being slandered because a woman he dated briefly turns rejection into victimization.
Hannah Bauer May 2015
Hey.
I'm glad you came here.
Thank you for remembering this.
Thank you for remembering to look at this.
I know it hurts.
God.
I know.

You're scared out of your mind that this is going to be your entire life.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
Full of depression and anxiety.
Full of storms and trials that leave you breathless on the ground, shaking from the panic that courses through your blood.
You think that if you just die now, you'll be in heaven.
Where it is so much better.
Where there is no pain.
No depression.
No anxiety.
No fear.


But, you have your life to live right now.
And it won't be an awful life.
How do I know?

Because beauty is in everything and it is just waiting to fully bloom.

You want to know the beauty that was in today?
Today, I had an amazing, life-giving conversation.
My fears and thoughts were validated.
I was told I wasn't alone.
I geeked out with him over film.
And I was given the biggest compliment.
I was told that my mind intrigued him.
We shared about our own experiences with depression.
We talked about God and how sometimes there just aren't answers.
It was amazing and it was just what I needed.
You won't have that if you make your thoughts a reality.

I want you to remember everything and everyone you love.
On earth.
In this life.
I want you to remember why you need to stay alive.

Remember your family.
Remember your dad who is going through so much pain.
Remember your mom who is fighting to stay with you.
Remember your brother who loves you, even though it does not feel like it.
Remember your cousin who will do anything for you.
Remember that they will do everything in their power to help you.

Remember your friends.
Remember your best friend who won't know what to do without you.
Remember your teachers who pray and talk with you.
Remember how they are fighting with you and for you.

Remember your favorite things.
Remember driving in your car at night with your music blasting.
Remember reading a good book with the warmth of the fireplace.
Remember the rush of taking a risk, whether physical or emotional.

Remember tea and peaches and blankets and books.
Remember conversations and movies and passion and love.
Remember oceans and mountains and flowers and stars.

Remember all the little things.
Remember how life can be so surprising.

So get your headphones,
blast your music,
drown out those voices,
and when you're ready,
go to sleep.
I promise that it won't be so bleak in the morning.
E Townsend Sep 2015
I am the typewriter and you were
backspacing backspacing backspa
all my words as if I had never said them.
You knew I meant
every letter I slammed down
furiously into the keyboard
writing about you
about your lack of making time
closing me off last minute
ignoring any plans we made at all.
I don't get why you had to leave my
thoughts as if they were not validated.
If someone cared for you as much as I do,
I sure hope you don't backspace on them
before they can get a word out.
Don't ******* a writer.
Her thoughts will be validated upon paper,
her eyes will cry tears of ink that sink into the pages forming words never quite forgotten,
your past together will be an anthem to young girls who suffer in the same,
when she spits out her blood soaked poetry the guilt will drive you insane.
Don't. ******* a poet
Because at three thirty in the morning she will write an angry piece about how perfect your eyes looked when the rain splattered your windshield, how your kind words melted the barricade, and when you were safely inside you lit a match, just to see how many things would catch
Dont break a poets heart,
it will not break her pen and when she sends the message across the web of how you hurt her,
the sound will resonate across the night clubs and everyone will know you shattered her like good china, smashed underfoot by a mad man, tension she couldn't bare, and drunk text messages unsent about how much she cares.

We, were an unfinished painting the artist got bored with, A Mona Lisa on an etch sketch,
you curled yourself around me and tucked yourself underneath my tongue,
you said when I smiled your limbs came undone, and you fell in love with me every time I sung to you,
well maybe I should have sung louder, because my message is now falling on deaf ears,
I want to hear the words, I need you, I want to see you, I miss you.
Instead I'm glued to my screen trying not to send you hate mail so obscene,
I never meant to get this attached to you, and maybe that's why you're running away.
If I asked you to stay would you bother? Or just run faster?
I promised myself I wouldn't write a poem about you, because if I did that I would have to open my mouth,
and I'm scared now that you've jumped out, and have found safety in another girls arms, how did I not realize this would cause me harm, I never wanted to fall for you.
Don't make empty promises, to poets.
We will never forget, because we produce the highest form of lies known to man, I can make words in languages you'll never understand, but with a flick of my hand and the right stance I could make you fall in love with me after the second glance. So don't try to lie to a writer, buddy I've been there. You think hearing "I hate you." hurts wait until you wake up to.
"Your eyes make mine want to bleed, your voice crackles up my spine, and shake me to the core. Every time you look at me I think of how many different ways I could feed your organs to starving children in Africa. Your pancreas I'd send to Guam, your heart to Ethiopia. Lead you into the depths of hell and keep you locked up. In case I wanted to play with you later, no. I'm not bitter, what makes you say that."
Or better yet, imagine waking up to silence. I cannot speak for my words are numb to the bubble of hatred in my centre. If I let it escape I will never stop screaming, I've been meaning to tell you that I could never regret anything we've done together.
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Call me an alcoholic,
Druggie, ******. I am none of these things.
I have my fits and fiends of wanting **** and wine, but
I am fine.

Have you ever written letters you don’t send?

I don’t think it was really unfair of me, but there were certainly better ways. It might’ve been easier if I’d said no—a jab to alert you of the no-ness—but I wanted to say yes, even though I knew I would possibly say later “I can’t”.

I’ve liked you for a while. I denied it for some time. Even though we dated briefly and it seems like smoke now, it validated the summers we spent together. Even in 2011 I liked you; last year I did and was scared to; this year I let it happen. I couldn’t control it. I saw you and wanted you, I had to; I had you. You were more than summer ******* and we both know it. It was hard to say and acknowledge though, because summer things come up. You’re not like other “lifeguards” I “******” though, and I know I’m not just another lifeguard you ****** either. We’re friends. We were something.

I’m sorry I left suddenly, rashly and didn’t talk to you for a week.. but I know you’re not emotionally weak and you dealt with it even if it confused or surprised you. It was a defense mechanism on my part. I wouldn’t have known how to approach you or maintain a long distance relationship, especially since I’m living with Rachel.. of course you could’ve visited, but it would’ve been uncomfortable once you left and we both know that. This situation has already been mapped out and I think we both knew the outcome of this fall. We’re friends however, well, I actually value you as one, and I would like to see you and hang out. Maybe I’ll hit you up when I’m back in the area—if you want to see me, that it—and as I said, if you’re in Annapolis and want to go out some weekend that’s possible. I wouldn’t even have to stay with you if it were too much; I could hang out with Katie. But either way would be fun, I think.

So I didn’t want a relationship. Yet here I am, trying to communicate and write you… yesterday was weird. I realized an entire week had passed since I left you and didn’t say anything. I wanted to write you. I texted you to make sure it was okay. Maybe you thought it was a bit ****** up or maybe you weren’t phased, but either way I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t know how else to leave.

Please know, however, that I wanted to be your girlfriend, even if it was just for a little bit of time. I used to think dating you wasn’t even something to consider because neither of us seemed to be interested in a relationship and we are the type of people who don’t usually get attached. I have problems with that. And right now I’m in an awkward situation here because I told Rachel I don’t want to have *** with anyone right now—which I don’t (Salisbury is STD and I’m clean, plus I’m kind of emotionally drained and even though *** is physically fun it brings a lot of baggage.. not that I’m attracted to anyone here anyways but this fall is about ME and getting awesome grades/working on grad application stuff/trying not to lose it)—and she is included in that.

I did have *** with her when I came here though… I guess it was “I missed you,” ***, or “I don’t want to feel with emotions regarding Drew so I’m going to ******* as a distraction” ***, or maybe even “I wonder if we can just have *** as friends without any relationship ties,” ***.. which can’t happen either. She likes me still, or loves me, or whatever. I don’t know how because I’ve been so emotionally distant but I guess she misinterpreted me being nice/being down for *** for still caring about her that way. Between finishing my class, worrying about working and being around her (just her for now, the other roomies should be here next week) I’ve pushed down thinking about you because it was hard to. I remember last year and how it was then, too. Things don’t seem to change much.

Rachel asked about you. I told her honestly. I told her that I couldn’t attach to her the same and that I liked you and I’m sorry I hurt her this summer, but last year she got a boyfriend and I had you.. then I left and she still had him and I wasn’t sure how you felt, but I met Ben and when I realized it wasn’t the way I perceived it to be in my head she was there when I was alone and vulnerable. It took her a long time to admit she liked girls but I’m over it with her, honestly, even though I find her sexually attractive.

When I talked about you, however, she said she would get whatever needed to satisfy all aspects of my bisexuality.. but I told her there was a difference in the way it feels to be with a man, and I thought of you—your warmth, strength and ability to excite me with such passionate heterosexual compulsion.

My mind is so ****** right now. Both of you are part of my past and present although it’s different. I’m not going to sleep with Rachel, and I’m not around to sleep with you (not that you would anyways—although I’m not sure you wouldn’t if the moment was right) so I’m not going to sleep with anyone. *** isn’t always just *** and I am in a situation now where I’m being influenced by feelings and ****** ties and I don’t want any with her. I think about you, though, and it’s easier because I’m not around you but it wasn’t very long ago that I was. I guess I took it for granted. It’s really over now since I’m not coming back to PMSI, but it at least made me happy that I could validate the way I felt towards you. The last boyfriend I had was three years ago, and, besides Rachel, I haven’t been in a relationship. It’s hard for me to like people sometimes, and I don’t know if I can like anyone fully.. that’s why I didn’t want to try with you, really. I didn’t want to lead you on or give you expectations of how our long-distance relationship could’ve been, but I want you to know that I still like you and will have to eventually get over you, but I am going to let time do that instead of distracting myself with other people—that’s what I used to do.

You told me once I was a void you were trying to fill.. I don’t want to be that. I want to be a piece that something can be built on; I want to be an experience on which you can reflect fondly and acknowledge that, although brief and often unclear, was real. You influenced me, shaped me and changed me, for the better, I think. I think we’ll always be cool and I’d like to keep in touch and see you.. but I understand that things may not be as casual regarding the way we act towards one another.

Otherwise, things are okay. I’ll have two jobs this fall, five classes and hopefully a bit of time for chill activity to maintain my sanity but I don’t want to be with anyone here. There’s no way I could. Rachel asked about us.. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it with her. I don’t. I hope she moves on but she’s in her room currently hanging out and I’m doing the same. It’s nice to have time alone to think. I can’t help but feel bad for her.. but feeling bad makes me accessible to her—which I need to stop.
Eulalie Feb 2014
I keep trying to convince myself that I’ve mustered enough strength to stand up, take a breath, and move the **** on with my life,
content and resolute in knowing that you can’t be a part of it any longer;
I keep trying to convince myself that it was all a bad
(and exquisitely decadent)
dream, that none of it actually happened, that you were precisely those last terrible words, and nothing else;
I keep trying to convince myself that I never loved you,
that I do not still love you…
And yet all the while I can’t muster enough strength to stand up at all;
I balance and wobble on shaky stilts for a brief bit of time, sure, distract myself with “living my life” and “letting you go” and
finding peace amongst the heartbreak, but I am too clumsy to keep abreast for long—
the end of my shoes clip and snag onto memories of sweet nothings, and
I fall all over again as if it were for the first time;
I fall and hit the ground with a smitten, dazed smack of my head to the pavement,
and at first I’m numbed with pleasantries, with the tender memories and harmonies that used to put me to sleep with a smile so stupid it wouldn’t wipe away,
but then the stars clear
and I’m trying to bite back the smarting with fallacies over my decidedly pragmatic indifference, and in my not-yet-pained stupor,
I can almost breathe a mechanical sigh—
can almost get swallowed up by sheer lack of sensation—
and extract a salvation out of my own emotional etherization and find satisfaction amongst the numbness…
I can almost move on if I don’t feel at all…
But I don’t have any reserves of Novocain or morphine, and after I’ve fallen,
the pain always returns.
I keep trying to convince myself that what you told me was true,
that you weren’t ever real,
that you weren’t ever real,
but that contemplation is destroyed the minute it enters the recesses of my darkened cognizance, and I can never revere over a single ******* moment of my day without
something of you
making its unsolicited entrance;
you were always real.
I don’t know;
I just want something positive to come of us, still;
I still hope all the while we are silent; I still yearn all the while we stay distant—
“independent”;
you still are the victim of my fantasies all the while within my head I lament,
praying that I’ll find contentment,
and that for a small while you are only just taking rent
elsewhere, and will soon miss me enough to say that leaving me is never
what you meant of it…
Call me excessively self-indulgent and masochistic for all the
emotional ballistics and disconsolate pyrotechnics
but I’m convinced that the last five months can be validated with a
simple romantic fix of all of this:
for you and I were too explosive not to make sense;
there’s too much that’s been felt,
too much harboring under my doting starry-eyed belt,
too much over which you’ve made me melt.
All I’m asking for is your help.
I surely didn’t imagine you,
I didn’t imagine that warmth that so affectionately looms,
didn’t imagine the luminescence of the moon,
didn’t imagine the connection between us two…
I suppose what it is that I’ve been trying to say, what all along I’ve attempted to convey,
is that I miss you:
Please come back to me, Mr. Blue…
I really ******* miss you.
This is more of a prose, but it wreaks of intensity and desperation and pathetic honesty. Eh.
Ilunga Mutombo May 2018
Love didn’t leave
Hurt just moved in
Got comfortable
evicted kindness
And all good feelings
Left you numb and Cold blooded
Your emotions validated it
And now your heart feels it
A victim of your own insecurity you are
But you are the one who invited the pain
You hid when it was time to stand
Now you drown in your own agony
Looking in the mirror while talking to your own
Enemy
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?
Musing, as a pass time, not a wast of time nor a killing of time, but a use by right of time. This is my examined life. I find it worth living more loudly as I age. The ripeningin, reminds me of cheesy-ness.
J Sep 2017
I fell in love
not with you
but the way
you validated me
when you grew tired
and could not hold my sorrows
in your shaking hands
I felt nothing
I laid my worth on you
full forced and terribly
I loved you not
for who you were
but who you let me be
and I am sorry
Yenson Mar 2019
He ran like the wind up the gangway
saw the door  still open
ahead near the door stood four Port attendants
gasping for breaths he reached them
with hands outstretched they stopped him
No, No, No, he cried
I've got to get on, I've got to get on

Sorry sir too late, their voices rang out
I'm afraid Sir, you're too late
What! look the door is still opened
Please, let me in, pleasee for heaven's sake
let me in, I've got to get on board
Sorry Sir, against the rules, you are just too late
but the door is still opened,please I beg you let me in

Afraid can't do that,you are just too late,
just too late today
What Jobsworth you lot are
how inconsiderate can you lot be
the ****** door is still open,why are you being so obstructive
isn't your job to help passengers,isn't that what you're paid to do
do you realize how inconvenient this is, do you realize what this
will cost me'
Sorry Sir, we are only doing our job
You are too late for this flight,go back to the departure Lounge
They'll help get you on a later flight,sorry but Rules are Rules
And with that   the plane doors were closed

Oh..how he hated these *******, ****** unhelpful inconsiderate
Jobsworth, ****** idiots, the whole lot of them, arseholes!

Dejectedly,he walked back to the ****** Departure Lounge
Fuming, dragging his ****** attache case, he sought out the
help desk
Cursing and muttering, he rued the ******* two minutes delay
that cost him this flight.
Angrily, he marched to the Air Ethiopia Check in desk
Sullenly he explained his plight!
Its a two hour wait for the next flight out, they informed him.
Still upset, he handed in his ticket and they did the necessary
Handing back his ticket, he walked away and sat in Departure
why, oh why did this happen to me, he muttered angrily
He sat miserably, he cursed again under his breath. **** God!

He had been sitting for about an hour when he noticed
people suddenly running around, something was happening
There was a real air of panic around, Officials were running
helter skelter, people were huddling in pockets, he saw
Police Official barking orders and Airport Staff talking excitedly
He heard some people shouting in a group to his right

He stood up alarmed
he stated walking towards a group to his left
Then he saw one of the Jobsworth that had stopped him from boarding his flight, the Jobsworth had a look of utter alarm
on his face, he was also sweating.
What's happening, what's wrong, he asked him, now alarmed himself.

Oh Sir, ooh Sir...the Jobsworth exclaimed, looking at him wide-eyed.

That Plane you missed has just crashed, killing everybody on board.....!!!
This is a true Story that happened very recently. The Ethiopian Airline that crashed about two weeks ago.

When we think or believe all is lost, we may not believe that more is given!!!!
Calliope Jan 2019
In the midst of our passion,
I tried to make you show your hand.
You were losing your poker face,
I thought your inhibitions were gone.

But when I said “tell me what you want”
You replied “for you to be happy and healthy”.

And that shattered the dam.
The wall that held back the sea splintered.
And I let you see me drown in my pain.

I told you how letting you gorge on me
Made me the kind of sad I could control.
It was a shallow kind of sad, one that could be fixed with scotch tape.
I ripped the adhesive off  of the shallow sad
When the deep dark sad became too much.

I told you how letting you gorge on me
Made me feel useful, even if it validated everything he told me.
I don’t care that my body is nothing more than something to be ******,
At least I’m doing my friend a favor.

So even if I can’t be happy and healthy right now,
And even if you know that,
At least we can see each other for what we are
As I let you feed his desires for me,
And you let me feed my desire for pain.
Jordan Harris Jul 2014
I am a child of truth
one not blinded by belief or whim
my vision is luminous with veracity
I am a daughter of science
the proven

there is pride in this
the authenticity of my perception
I see the world in all colors
not the black and white of sin and virtue

I judge the world on the confirmed and validated
my value is in the clarity of possibilities
and the assessment of the affirmed

but for however meritorious I may grant this view to be
is such sight of pure moral?

it burdens to recognize I am the only control in my world
there are none in my eyes with ultimate or immortal reign
the only fate I view is individual and collective ends

I wish I could have faith
perhaps the pain would ease
at the thought of another with power in control
knowing my actions are not my work
but the results of a larger set of hands

but how hideous is it of me to say such filth
to long to believe
but be supposedly unable to feel gods
I consider it disrespectful to those who do

so I keep to my facts
my deafening, blinding, muting visual certainties

but what if I am wrong?
after all, there are more colors in the universe
than those of which we see
I know religion is a touchy subject, and I have been told numerous times as an atheist to hush up and not speak of it, but honestly, I marvel at such beliefs and ways of life. I mean absolutely no disrespect and truly want to make that clear to all. This poem is honestly a stab at myself in my confused scientific state of mind and under no circumstances meant to hurt others. Mostly, I wrote this because it has been on my mind a lot, and I felt the need to write.
JC Lucas Nov 2014
We seek love because in love we are validated in our perfect flaws and exactitude of malformation and in love we are given reason not to hate ourselves for the things we see are wrong but cannot change even if we spent a millenia in an instant or infinite instants in eternity struggling to shake off the shackles of our humanity which is both our captor and liberator in this,
life,
yes we recognize its importance in allowing us to be but we spend the congregation of moments we are given in that holy being damning it, for it also makes us imperfect and in our imperfections is the capacity to do harm unto the world which we love so much,
and so,
we equate these imperfections with evil and seek to expunge them with all our might of will and all our cleverness of wit and all our screaming and pounding and passion of
soul,
but it is all in vain for these things which we despise so greatly are joined at the sutures with our very being and hence have many good but troubled lambs of the internal apocalypse chosen to end that being for sake of ending that malformation, though they know this is wrong, but it is the only solution in trying to remove the weight of one’s existence and hence the weight of existence from one’s mind and so they sleep easily,
unbreathing,
unknowing,
and having completely cleansed the burden of themselves from this immaculate and gorgeous universe which they love so, but they are also
unloved.

And it is in love that we are validated, both in our perfect flaws and exactitude of malformation,
it is in love that our weight on the world is not lifted, no, but counterbalanced and nullified,
and in that way,
we are set free.
Harry J Baxter Nov 2013
Don't smile at me
especially not with your eyes
it's just not fair.
Every single one of you has the upper hand on me
I see you at cafes
at parties drunk beyond mischief
I see you in the elevator
on the streets
through my window
in my high school year book
In my dreams
the first poem I wrote on this site
about three hundred or so ago
so **** romantic and cheesy
but that's how you make me feel
your blonde hair
your chestnut hair
black hair
green, blue mahogany eyes
the natural born mothers
the rebels
the ones who just wanted me to feel good about being me
all of you so **** special
I've loved you all at some point or another
but that doesn't make it fair
when I see another one of you
at the party
smiling, dancing, asking me to take shots
I can't say no
the only thing I want
validation from making you feel validated
and beautiful
like you are
all I want to say is this
Whether it be one conversation lasting from the lobby to the second floor
or a life long friendship
I'm thankful for all of you
the doe in the forest
Jack Varnell Dec 2009
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.)

Have You Seen This Girl ?

I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton.

First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly.

To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it.

She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada.

And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults.

Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not.

I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast.

Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.

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