Viiii poems on Hello Poetry

A B Perales Apr 2015

I wasted
far too much
on far too
little.

And I'm
no longer waiting
on the best
to arrive.

I'll settle
for something
as plain as a silhouette
and as simple
as the truth.

Chloe Nov 2017

VIIII

I miss staying up all night with you.
We wouldn't even notice the sun rising because we were too focused on loving each other.
I miss when I would get drunk and you would laugh at me because I would stumble over my words.
But I wouldn't care that I looked like an idiot because nothing warmed my heart more than seeing that smile of yours.
I miss arguing with you about where we should go to eat.
And I miss when you would get mad at me when I said "I don't know."
I miss how your eyes would sparkle whenever you tickled me.
I know I always said I hate when you do that, but I secretly enjoyed it.
You never realize the things you would miss when they're not there anymore.
I miss kissing you at red lights,
And resting my hand on your leg when you drive.
I miss how comfortable you made me feel.
You made me feel like I was capable of achieving anything.
And I knew I could do it because I had you by my side.
I would give up everything to have you here with me.
I sleep with my fan on now.
I only use one blanket.

#personal #sad #love #lonely #relationships

JM Jan 2015

Unfinished....

I'm not quite sure what did it...

It could have been watching
Mother being beaten
or knowing Father was the one giving the beatings.
It may have been
when it was my turn
for the beatings.

It may have been the first time
I experienced the futility
of existing
here and now,
there and then.

It could have been
the first time I felt an
irrational fear of
climbing under the porch
with all the spiders and dark places,
or the subsequent shame imposed on me
because my little sister was
the one who
saved the stuck kitten.

It might have been the time
I rammed that same sister's head
into the side of the stove
and then threatened retaliation
if she told on me.

It may have been
thinking as a child
I was destined for
mediocrity, even though
I knew I was
born
to be great...

II.
Knee deep in thick muck,
******* and fuckery,
we trudge on and on
and through it all....

III.
Everyone is dying.
Some, quicker than others.
I'm going to
ride this out
for a while...

IV.
Hi
Hey, you look cute

Fat. You look ******* fat poured into that stupid dress. You are not seventeen anymore lady, jesus!*
...

V.
I can hear you breathing while doing yoga;
a slow inhale, pause, controlled exhale.
Your body is a....

VI.
Another ten hour shift
with the crew of ******* *******.
If I wasn't the boss
I'd have cracked some
****** heads
wide open
by now.
These ******* don't
know ****...

VII.
My plants need watering, wilting next to grandmas paintings...

VIII.
So, you think you know me...

VIIII.
Spare parts.
Lots of folks out
there made from spare parts.
Pieces that almost fit.

My knees were laying
around out back somewhere;
they were beaten into place.
They got most of the dimensions
right but the joints are tight...

X.
It takes two weeks for your kisses to reach me,
and two seconds for my blood to fill the empty spaces...

XI.
Wait...just wait. Don't go.
I was only kidding. ****...

XII.
Light. Bouncing all over the place.
Light.
Reflected into you...

XIII.
These giant guardians on the boulevard,
My friends, these tremendous sycamores, have been keeping watch my entire life.
They tried warning me...

XIV.
Two years later and your taste is gone but your smells still linger in the dark folds of memory...

XV.
This is going to be offensive to most.
Inappropriate? Some might say.
I wouldn't...

XVI.
These so called poems from
these so called poets about
cutting yourself and suicide really
can wear a guy out.
My tendency towards empathy and
compassion, tested daily, wears incredibly thin.
I've been there, not my thing, this cutting.
I'd rather burn flesh.
We've all got our thing right?
Except self harm isn't my thing.
Not a thing I do,
just a thing I did.
I wonder if these tortured
souls make it through the
next hour after reading
one after another cry for help.
I wonder if some do it just
for shock value, some just to goad
their creators.
I wonder if I am reading a poem or a
suicide letter.
It's unnerving.
I'm all for suicide; I suggest everyone try it
at least once.

Just quit with the incessant
*******...

XVII.
Cut my throat and leave me to the jackals for
I would rather drown in desert sand
than submit to the will of anyone
I do not
trust...

XVIII.
****** clamps, lead weights.
Paddles, restraints...

XVIIII.
I sat alone,
from nowhere a warm, blue light surrounded me.

**.
Balancing these monkeys on my back with the demons in my mind and...

21.
I smell ******* a mile away *******,
and you stink.
I see you shuckin' and jivin',
be-boppin' around like you are some kind of
badass...

22.
And now there are no flowers on the table and no long, dark hairs on my pillow...

It all makes sense to me...

Wordfreak Apr 2018

Advice VIIII

He stopped me today,
A nocturnal hunter,
After exiting the crevasse
I had so eagerly
Taken refuge in only months before.
He cocked his head,
Ears twitching,
Nose searching the wind.

"You are of my kind." said he.
"And yet you are not.
I've never met one such as you.
You have fangs,
But they are hidden.
Your rage is tempered,
Yet your heart is still that of a wolf."
His eyes flashed in the dawn's
Fleeting moonlight.
"Who are you?"

For a moment,
A solemn shift took me
As I searched for the answer
To his query.

"I am The Silvertongue.
He who weaves legends,
Yet burns all he touches.
My paws are scarred,
My maw ******,
But what I do, I do for the rest.
I have sold my soul,
But heart and mind
Remain my own.
I have lived a life soaked with blood Of both friend and foe.
My scars have many sources,
I may answer indirectly,
But I never lie.
I have bred and buried shadows,
And I have both welcomed
And shunned the sunshine."

His tongue flashed across
His muzzle,
His teeth bared in
A feral grin.

Spoke the canine
"I envy your spirit
My friend.
You've tread a life
Lonely
But entrapped by
Millions of souls.
But know this.
You keep your own,
You know your spirit.
Your scars are the one thing
That they cannot take from you."

Irate Watcher Apr 2018

Confession VIIII

You told me not to tell anyone
what happened.
Said it would hurt him too much.
What about me?

Did my feelings matter less?
Why must I be a prisoner,
silent to his crime.

Yes it was crime,
and I, not wanting to feel
victimized
kept silent,
but asked for your advice.
You told me what I wanted to hear,
which was to say nothing.

I wonder how you feel
about your words now.
I wonder if they haunt you
in your sleep.
I wonder wonder
about you and
and all your feelings
instead of wondering
about me.

How am I doing?

I wish you would ask.

Reece AJ Chambers Mar 2017

Man Made

I.
Snowman in the park,
not there yesterday
but watching all this morning,
eyes that don’t blink,
black as a crow.

II.
Children **** him
with a vegetable,
a tartan scarf throttles
his frozen throat.

III.
Button-like holes
form a grin,
a banana of circles
fingertip-made.

IV.
Sphere of snow nearby,
an unfinished friend,
project abandoned.

V.
Went to see it,
the skinny veins
of our footprints
a chain around
its podgy white body.

VI.
Sun sploshes the face,
squeak as we touched
its cheek,
residue on our gloves,
signs of decay.

VII.
Doesn’t talk
but sits ignorant,
questions not answered.
Kids get bored.

VIII.
Why will he vanish?
Everything is temporary
a parent explains,
cold as a cube of ice.

VIIII.
Days later
we see it crumble,
great clumps that slump
to the ground,
shedding limbs.

X.
Gone until the next time
I say.
Gone and forgotten,
I bring the scarf back in.

Written: March 2017.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time for university. Changes are likely - feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.

zoie marie lynn Feb 2019

1-10, i'm never loving again

i. you are broken bones and candy too sweet, you weren’t made for goodnight kisses and long walks on the beach
you weren’t made for me.
ii. when my lungs stop bleeding and my skin stops ripping i will give you up. i will power wash you out of my veins because you will never
ever, have control over me again.
iii. if forever is the word that has kept me stuck to your ground than heartbroken will be the only word that could free me, because if i sit here falling any longer
there will be nothing left of me.
iv. i'm not pixie dust and you're not princess charming, i am able to live life without your constant explosion
and you will survive without being the reason i'm dying.
v. i am repeating phrases repeating phrases repeating phrases because your lack of change is slowly getting to me
slowly drowning me in your coffee, bitter, black, and
i'm never coming back up.
(you're probably okay with that)
vi. i tell you i love you and the sky comes undone
and when i say ¨it's falling¨
you say ¨so don't look up¨
vii. maybe if your last name and my first name made some type of sense, we wouldn't be sitting here watching it all end
the bed is in flames and we're going insane
because love is only chemicals and lies and we know nothing will change.
viii. you feel nothing and i feel everything and so i tell you
¨i hear wedding bells¨ because, don't you?
and you say ¨cover your ears, my love, they're lying to you¨
viiii. never have i ever fallen for someone bathed in bleach
never will i ever love someone incapable of loving me.
x. this is the end and you're not my friend and the moon is dying and children are crying and you're leaving me behind and i'm letting you go
is this what it feels like to be alone?

you are allowed to be both a work in progress and a masterpiece

#poem #love #hate #trust #lies #her #you #broken #alone #sky

Alice Jan 2019

Fourteen Ways of Making A Coffee

I
Begin by getting out the ***.
The bigger, the better.
But a standard one will do.

II
Next, bring out the grounds.
The darker they are, the more
Bitter they'll be, the more
Satisfying it'll feel when it's drunk.

III
Fill the *** with split tears to the brim.
Anymore and it'd overflow.

IV
Place the *** in the coffee maker,
Oven, or the microwave.
Whichever will boil fastest.

V
While the water is boiling
Place the honey on the counter.
The sugar was always too
Sweet for you.

VI
Once it's been properly steeped,
Let your hands hover cradled around
The ***. So that you may feel the heat,
But not be burnt.

VII
Once the water has cooled to 451 degrees
Write down the words you meant to say
Tear them and drop them into the ***.
If it doesn't smell like regret, you're doing something wrong.

VIII
Once you've scowled sufficiently,
Make sure to take a sip from the ***.
If it still tastes like it used to,
Pour in a cup of honey or salt.
Stir to dissolve.

VIIII
By now the water should taste
Of bittersweet regret.
Take out the biggest spoon you own
And collect a tablespoon of the
Lightest grounds, and eat them.

X
The lightest grounds will taste
Of laughter and of smiling.
They’ll taste of roses blooming in your chest
And of the sun kissing your skin in winter.
The darkest grounds will feel
Like thorns.

XI
However, you’ve had your fun
Now, it’s time to stir in the
Darkest grounds.
There’s no need to filter them,
After all, it’s only instant coffee.

XII
Pick up the *** in shaking hands and
Pour it all out into your preferred mug.
Frown at it and huff angrily as you watch
Plumes of smokes rising.
It smells just like he did.

XIII
Consider throwing the steaming mug at the wall.
Picture the shards mixing with the mess it’d make.
Imagine how it’d feel to hear the sickening crack
Of it shattering.
Consider it, but do not act.

XIV
Finally, you’re done.
You should feel proud of yourself.
Now, the best part, after all it’s like they say.
You’ve made your brew,
Now drink from it.

Written circa October of 2018.

#coffee #love #regret #hate #wallacestevens #thirteenwaysoflookingatablackbird #parody

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