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KING JOHN MICHEAL Aug 2013
when we wave goodbye
When we wave goodbye.
From unknown world.
we came to where our knowledge lies.
I've known you in dealings,
you've known me in sharing,
we've come to be best of friends,
now we wave for a goodbye.

My heart can't take it,
i can't hold myself,
from within i am weakened,
i long to host your presence,
i long to hear your voice.
i long to see you again,
i long to see you again,
when we wave goodbye.

All that sits on my mind,
memories of our togetherness.
Your stares,
your smiles,
the soft tone of your calling,
all causes my broken walls within.
All holds my thoughts in travail,
all unfolds in my flooding tears,
when we wave goodbye.

My heart aches,
my body weakens,
my world jaded,
when we wave goodbye,
when we wave goodbye,
tears roll down my eyes,
when we wave goodbye.
I long to see you again,
i long to see you again
when we wave goodbye.
Continue reading...
SK Apr 2015
you finally texted me
i told myself a million times
that if you ever tried to talk to me again,
i would be strong enough not to reply.
but when your number came up on my phone
the walls that i had been trying to hard to build up
crumbled down
and hit the floor with a defeating thud.
instead of feeling strong
i felt happy
relieved
wanted
even though you were just drunk
and i shouldn't have.
#sad #girl #boy #relationship #weird #idk
Continue reading...
Aya Baker Sep 2013
Walls
I default
to
sentiment
when he isn’t looking
(I admire the curve of his
jaw
the slant of his eyelashes
the muddied footsteps of a troop of freckles across the
bridge of his
nose.)

He kisses me gently
And I push back
fiercer
unyielding .
(His lips are red like
the candy
he buys me on
valentine’s.)

There are fights
(shouts, screams, throwing of things)
but he never raises a hand
or does more than look hurt.
I pray for him to do just the opposite
of that
(bruises and cries and
promises?threats? of goodbyes) but he doesn’t.

Hurt me, I want to tell him.

Hurt me, and you will never have to know me
(and how I steal gum from the shop
of my before-bed rituals
of my illegible handwriting)

Hurt me, and I will have to stay away from you
(and not get my heart broken
shattered like glass
tattered like the afghan bedspread we share)
You seem to be the only boy I will ever write about.
Continue reading...
Zita Nonie Hasenkamp Aug 2015
Wind Chimes
My flesh grows tired.
Sounds seep through the walls
Chaining me to consciousness.
The flood seeps through the walls
To drown me in my sleep.
The floor breathes beneath my feet
And its heart bleeds in the corner
Where I dare not glance.
My flesh has betrayed me.
My mind is a surrealist.
I hear birds taking refuge
In my ceiling
Leaving their hollow bones in a pile.
If I spoke their language,
I would ask them to stop,
For I am not fond of
The sound of wind chimes.
Continue reading...
Mercury Slo Jan 2013
A Ballade
Stricken, our lives teeter on the edge
Of our minds.
Like the ocean, caught in a hurricane,
I burst.
A fury of passion, blood and beauty
Strings around me tighten
In a hurry to see themselves snap
As I am pulled undauntingly closer
To the eye of the storm
The calm in which
The core of our love resides
The fire that burns within our soul
Keeps the peace that creates the chaos
Around us and in our heart
Here is where you begin
The angel in the shepherd's dream
The nightmare above his bed
Lost in your open eyes of wonder
We rise to greatness
Our love takes flight
It fights for a purpose
But the fire scorches all
That is left in its path
The cracks in the walls tear open
They shatter and fall to dust on the ground
We cry out as we fade away
Into each other's arms again
Your wings, they flutter and open my heart
Your skin, still unborn in the cracks in my skull
I fly towards you, my beak and claws
Colliding with yours
A force breaks out of our chests
And unites and slaughters our dreams
We share a power that none can conquer
It forms a universe we cannot grasp
It builds and empowers the storm that we are.

You are the gold dripping through my veins
With your armour and without,
Your heart spins within my palms
For the love of my life.
Continue reading...
Veronika Apr 2016
replacement
you are a perfect song
flowing through my walls
the kind of sound that makes me empty

you are a single person
that makes me feel together
when i'm alone in a crowd

you are an endless dream
disappearing from view
just when I'm about to collide into you

you are my vitamin
when i run out
no longer hurting just curing and curing
#love #replace
Continue reading...
Jasmine Blick May 2012
And This Angel Will Fly Solo
1...2...3.... breathe
That's what going threw my head as I leave

I'm almost there
I keep trying not to stare

Thoughts of you running threw my head
They're starting to turn my face red

My heart thuds as the miles become fewer
And I can't help but think "if only I wasn't such a loser"

I always mess up when I've got you
I don't know how I do what I do

I get so close and let my walls drop so low
I stare into your eyes and hug you not wanting to let go

But I had to
So I let my fingers slide from yours saying "I love you..."

No reply
No goodbye

So I'll let my head droop low
And this angel will fly solo

But I have another chance...tonight
Hopefully this time I'll get it right...

I'm getting closer to those doors
And maybe closer to once again being yours

Till I'm there I'll keep my headphone in an my music up loud
And I'll whisper the lyrics to that song so quiet yet proud

My mother nudges me
"Your here now...see?"

I nod slowly leaving the car
Hoping you aren't so far

I let out a sigh
And walk to the wall as others pass with their skirts hiked high

I'm waiting...waiting for you
Hoping you'll come too

Friends, foes, and god knows pass me by
They act like I'm invisible to the naked eye

Its starting to get dark and your still not near
Your not coming I start to fear

Hours seemed to have passed
So I walk inside as asked

Still no one is here
"I've been stood up" I think with a tear
Continue reading...
thymos Jan 2017
democratic fascism
1
at the inauguration of
the 45th
president of the most
powerful country on earth: a
White Man Of The Good One True Lord says
that in The Bible, rain
is the sign of
a blessing from
God.

2
perhaps rain is a blessing from God, perhaps
she's trying to cause a flood.

3
2016 was the hottest year on record.
we're going to boil,
America First
(well, really it's the poorest
non-white people who will feel it first, who are
feeling it as we speak,
as some speak of it
as if it wasn't real, our impact).
climate change and LGBT rights have already been removed from the White House website.

4
we all have our part to play
in the suicide of the human race.
America First.

5
perhaps i'll see you in the nuclear bunker
or if we're brave, by the barricades,
either way,
come bridges or walls,
this concerns us all, and
be careful, many still see the
skin
that is
not white, as dirt, and
be careful, The Man is not afraid
to grab you by the ***** (men
set the standard of ****** assault, ****,
what is acceptable; patriarchy
and patriotism go hand in hand, they even
descend from the same root word,
'ruling father', 'fatherland'), and
care for one another, defend
those who could just as well be you
next.
we are all just bodies that feed the machine.
we are all in chains, robbed of time, we all
have a world to gain.
"because things are the way they are
things will not stay the way they are."

6
when will a "Native American" be president?
is it not their land?
imagine what the world would look like
if the founding pillars of
America
had been genocide and slavery...
(it would look like this.)
can you imagine a Muslim president?
there's every reason to believe
that Foreign Policy means
terrorism
in a foreign language.

7
"first as tragedy, then as farce."
******'s moustache.
some strange yellow thing
on an orange head.

8
God as The Father
was a metaphor
that was appropriate for a time
past.
did you hear the one about the
astronaut?
when they returned to earth,
peopled asked them,
When you ascended into heaven,
did you see God?
the astronaut said Yes.
the people asked desperately of
what God was like.
the astronaut said,
She Is Black.
there's also the one about the rock.
no matter how massive and solid it is,
if you and the rock are
both falling off a cliff,
clinging onto it won't
save you.
my god is an indisputable
feeling
that comes and goes,
sometimes impossible, nevertheless
necessary.

9
"where there is oppression, there is
resistance."
"it is right
to rebel."

10
though the enemy is abominable,
you need not despair.
nor do you need hope
to take action.
out of nowhere, by hazard and courage and angst,
an event can change everything.
"cast away illusions,
prepare for struggle."

11
God bless the (Dis-)United States of America.
#trump
Continue reading...
the dead bird Apr 2016
SHADOW PLAY
the shadows of others
which maliciously
dance
upon the walls
point and laugh
at my human body
that sits in my room
watching

they use their
shadows
fragments of their
true self
to shame and degrade
this person
my self
because I do not hide
my flaws
in darkness

the teasing
shades of human
criticize and belittle
myself and
the other few
who openly exist
as exactly
who we are

these shadows
fueled by
fear
spite
negativity
make every observation
of exposed flaws
I can only imagine
that the humans
who are casting these
shadows of hate
to be
biting their nails
and looking away
as their
shadow
becomes them

while I was
openly
exposing my true form
I began to hate
that of who I am
taking the shadows critique
to heart
when they are too weak
to expose
who they truly are

their shadows
came for me-
as did
shadows
of my own

instead of
hiding myself
becoming
the same as them
using my
insecurities
as fuel for hatred
to burden
upon others
when
the darkness began
to encroach upon me
it fueled
to make me hate myself
instead of others

now,
I have begun
to understand

my own shadow
will no longer
swallow me in darkness
as it is just
my own
embodiment of hatred
a version of myself
that isn't real at all

and the
shadows
from others
who spit fire
to try and burn
my flesh
will fail
as I now know
that if they exposed
their true self
as I have done
everybody
would be able
to see
that the faults
they accuse of
only exist
within them

and I
am just simply
me
I'm so sorry I haven't written in awhile I know none of you care but I finally got a job again and have been so overwhelmed I simply forgot to write. this piece is about others who critique and shame people for traits that they openly accept about theirself.
#self #hatred #dark #darkness #negativity #shadows #critique #esteem
Continue reading...
Shruti Gauba May 2017
Music Musing
I am a little note,
A voiceless sound.
Until I am embrace life,
I shall stay bound.
But lend me to an artist
and then you shall see,
How he'd mix me with his mayhem
so a symphony I can be.
But if I wished, then I
could be a patriot's song;
the anthem you people would sing,
but that won't be for long.
Because the next time you hear
I'll be a melancholic tone,
tearing your heart apart,
as you stare at walls alone.
Or I could be a joyous rhythm
to make your soul smile,
or to make you tap your feet
and forget the world for a while.
For I am just a note;
you thoughts, I can vocalize.
Deciphered only by the heart
and not the brain of someone wise.
#music #tones #notes #note #thoughts #song #symphony #melody #anthem #mayhem #sound
Continue reading...
ottaross Oct 2013
The Ballad of the Meadowlark
From the valley that feeds the great river
Beyond the hundred-league Forest of Darkness
He came in the first year of his Roaming,
Seeing then, for the first time, the sprawling city on the coast.

In the shanty-town wedged between spoil-heap and highway
Among streets one could span with outstretched arms
She often did whilst walking alone
And singing quietly in the earliest light.

That they would meet was fore-told
Not in lore or in the words of the old ones,
But in their hearts from their first days
Which each remembered without a specific age.

They both felt the world was surely a place
Bigger than the corner that held each trapped
Collecting only whispers of somewhere, something more
Hoarding words that meant 'bright,' and 'plentiful' and 'freedom.'

His clan's traditions are stronger than the bindings
That held him in his familial servitude.
The mandatory age of Roaming was upon him
And cast out, he at once felt a call across the continent.

But a release for her, from the poverty and isolation,
From the shacks, and filth and futility
Seemed yet as impossible and cruel and forbidden
As it ever had, over all her years before.

Something happened then, on that last day of the rainy season.
With the city still yet across the expanse of a black river
He saw the sun break through a dark-veined sky
As the ferryman took his father's amulet as payment.

The guards of the gate pushed back the planked doors
And he entered through the wet, rough stone walls
Among a dripping hoard of plains-peasants, and traders,
As a distant siren call caught her beneath that broken afternoon sky.

To the central market they both found their way.
She on hard, bare soles slipping on the long soaked cobbles
He on worn and wet elk-hide moccasins
The throngs of the city descending to find daily fare.

Aimless wandering guided them each across the Great Square,
She, tired, finding a mostly-good apple fallen aside the stands
He, exhausted, buying bread with one of his few remaining coins.
Each sat close, yet still unaware, unseen to the other.

Unknown in the city, it was a meadowlark that brought them together.
Alighting upon a thorny shrub near them both
They turned when they, at the same time, threw a crumb.
Eyes like wells, in they both fell, cobbles steaming under a new sun.

A meadowlark brings to each now a gasp of surprise
Alighting upon the window sill.
Five decades gone in a moment,
The memory fresh again as a just-fallen rain.

Here, there are slices of deep-red apples
And rolls of sweet golden bread, and cheese, and wine
That sit on the table between them,
And a fire slowly ebbs in their hearth.
Continue reading...
Ignatius Hosiana Sep 2015
THE CONVICT
On petals of roses slid the rain drops after the storm
It was so lonely and the winter cold badly stung
All she wished for was another chance to be home
While somewhere in the wild a seemingly sad Nightingale sung
The variagated cloudy lining adjacent to a pink horizon
Held so much promise that after her storm there'd be a rainbow
That she would find her way out those concrete walls to liven
And re-kindle the flame of her life and never stumble
She had seen the roughest storms come and go
Witnessed the birds in the wild struggle to survive
She had thrown tantrums till time forced her to grow
To the realization she'd eventually safely arrive
To a promising destination, one filled with milk and honey
No matter how rough the road was and length of the journey
#freedom #nature #sonnet #remorse #prison #crime #shakespeare #reparation
Continue reading...
MournaraMiedema Mar 2024
The Cherry Red Rest
Tired in a cherry world.
I’m running down the lane, across the hallway and the fluffy walls.
Sorry but I missed the train.
I’m tired and I can’t see where I’m going.
But I also can’t sleep.
I’m uncomfortable so I went to this cherry land.

There’s no other place where I can stay.
And I’m still running but in a cherry place.
I think I might be here for a little while.
Cherry cheeks and cherry beer.
Cherry lips of course…
Rainbows, raining cherries.
And some clouds in the sky, so light and pink.

I wish I was light in myself.
No feeling heavy inside.
That’s why I leave to the cherry tree.
To lie down but I’m not comfortable at all.
So I get up and run and eat a bun with sweet cinnamon.

**** me and let me bleed cherry.
Thick sweet cherry colored fluid from inside, let me fall, let it rain, cherry blood.
The stains will never be washed away.
Easter is coming.
And I’m painting the eggs.
Cherry red in a fluffy basket.
Safely tucked in.
They won’t crack easily.

Unless you throw them and they splash.
Cherry liquid love.
They spread it over the sea.
And the Easter bunny is swimming.

Floating like a cherry in the lemonade pool, the tank with taps that lead to the can.
The can full of cherry liquor and cream.
I’m dressed in black with dark cherry stains.
Stamping on the cherries.

But I cut my feet, from the egg shells, the dyed chick’s eggs, died like me.
Died, dead, cherry, red.
Cause they got smashed.

And I was tired of being cracked and crying, cherry colored.
Waves of pain, witches that float, that see too many things through cherry seas.

🍒🌊🩸
19-03-24
Continue reading...
Hinkle Wan Vannah Feb 2015
The Switch
Look at the white walls shine.
The black curtains,
The grey clothes.
The door is open,
Doesn’t it look lovely?

Switch.

Now the walls are black,
The curtains shine white for all to see,
The clothes remain.
The door is shut,
Don’t you dare try to peak.

Switch.

Open door.
Welcome to my nice clean home,
No scratches on the walls,
Not a speck of dust in sight.

What do you mean…
I… I am sorry…
I just had to clean.
Yes sir, I know it is spotless but…
It really did need cleaning..
I’m not..
I understand.
I’ll be out in a moment.
Closed door.

Switch.

I am cleaning as fast as I can.
It is all going too quickly.
Only moments before another open door
And the walls are black again.
They see gleaming white through the curtains,
They think it is ***** and span.
Little do they know my little arms are scrubbing
Faster than I can comprehend.
Open Door.

No Switch.

Not this time.

He has seen..
The walls drip with ***** water
I couldn’t clean up in time
What will he say?
What should I do?

Silence.

He picks up a sponge
Without saying a word.
Starts scrubbing with me,
This is not his first time hiding the darkness.

Switch.

Each day from then on,
We scrubbed each others rooms.
No one would see the dirt on our hands.
No one.
And in the night, when we were all alone..

Switch.

Darkness again,
And this time,
We sit in it together.
And for the first time,
We do not have to hide.
2-1-15
#love #trust #depression #hiding #black #white
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elizabeth Oct 2014
Shadows from Streetlights
A few months ago
I found comfort in walking
dangerous streets
alone
drunk
tired
upset

I could have walked
for hours
because the feeling
of something possibly going wrong
soothed me

Perhaps whatever I may have met
on those dangerous streets
would have been more real
more terrifying
than the monsters I faced
with closed eyes
and a clenched jaw
each night
and every morning

I no longer
see those streets
with blurred vision
but instead eyes
that cannot look in as many directions
as I would like
because that gum wrapper
might not be
what I think it is

Maybe my fears are fading,
no longer stored inside
where no one can see them

Maybe my walls have broken
and I feel too vulnerable
to face anyone I may encounter
because I am not confident
that anyone else
would come
to my rescue
#drunk #alone #scared #walking #tired #dangerous #sidewalk #upset #city #streetlight
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Mitchell S Bartlett Dec 2012
Modern Medeival Life
Such a gentle thing,
Wrapped up in a sheltered fortress.
I want to bust my way through your walls, 
But I'd rather you'd let the gate fall down.
So I could walk on through,
And love you like we used to.
These walls covered in tapestries of memories,
Thoughts and opaque opportunities.
I want to create you a window, a stained glass world.
It would never fade, 
Or fall apart.
This castle is yours, 
You built it from the ground up.
Stone walls and a vision of what you wanted,
You built something strong.
With passages leading in, but a moat to keep others out.
You put piranhas in your pit, to devour all those you didn't care for. 
I managed to get past once, 
Twice,
Now I'm asking for one more chance.
Let down your drawbridge, 
Let's make a new addition.
We'll make a dungeon for the sins, 
And a treasure room for the memories.
We'll have a prince,
And a princess.
There'll be a dragon in the keep, and a phoenix in the study.
We'll have a modern medieval life, 
With all the jesters, peddlers and jousting. 
You can be a queen, 
And I'll be your king.
I'll build us thrones in the foyer, 
And a grand hall in your heart.
No room shall be locked,
No secrets kept hidden.
Now I'm waiting outside, 
Singing you a lullaby.
I'm throwing stones,
And wearing a mask to the ball.
I'll be your modern time Romeo, just for you, my Juliet.

Mitchell S. Bartlett
Continue reading...
Benjamin Reed Sep 2017
a journey.
running away from
Myself
i set out to find
the secret things that
the gods,
both beautiful,
and terrible,
created long before
i should chance to flee.
but, to see them,
i should think they
were created solely for myself.
soley, it would seem,
to bring me to you,
distance aside.

and what erudite things
that i have bore witness!

i saw the sun fall into the
lakes of the north,
and burn them wholly,
until their waters were orange and gold,
too intense to gaze at for long.
and i laughed because,
the gods had thought themselves
fashioners of some grand, beautiful
Scene
but,
they didn't know that i had seen
your naked form,
traced my fingers along the alabaster
perfumed curves of your flesh,
and known that beauty superior.

i saw the places where
they shattered the earth,
and the walls of stone were
painted like something
you would paint
for me
when the words just
couldn't come to you
and you cried the colors
onto the soil.

i saw the fields
where oceans of sweet
grasses and Ancient sage
married one another and
the gods turned themselves
into the uncountable herds
of wild horses, a thousand colors
defying anything that should
seek to break their spirit.
but i had already bathed
in the crucible of your
passion, and seen you
battle Fiercely
for my love.

It's yours.

i saw the vast displacement,
the empty places
where the gods taught man
to destroy, and
subjugate.
to grow false crops
and distance himself
from nature.
but i have known things
far more sinister than
what cruel gods muster.
i, seeking to destroy myself,
had lost you, and,
having won that love again
seek to keep it as such.

i saw the great
steel bones to be warped and wrought
into grand cathedrals, so that
the gods might seek to
prove themselves Real to me,
unknowing that i couldn't
possibly think anything
of the sort.
not while the possibility remained
that you could ever die.
#love #longing #travel #journey #iusedtobegoodatthis
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Overwhelmed Dec 2011
stories of a room
the last time
I slept in this
bed a wasp
swooped down
and stung me
on the neck

hurt like a
*****
and I didn’t
even ****
the
sucker

I was writing,
just like now,
so I said

“wasp,
you stay up there
and
I’ll stay down here
and we’ll both
leave each other
alone”

he called my bluff
and went in for
it any way

hurt like a
*****
and I had
never been
stung
before

I was sure
that I was going
to breakout in
hives or my throat
was going to
swell shut

it was a terrible
way to spend Christmas
Eve night

now it’s a bit
different

a beautiful woman
yearns for me at my
left

my body survived
the sting but has
grown older and more
tired

the world shifts
constantly

but this room

filled to the brim
with dolls and books
and old broken-down
knick-knacks that once
had purpose to some-
one

has not changed

four trophies stand
on a shelf across the
room

one lays on its
side

a broken camera
rests about me

two dolls hold hands
on a bench

pictures of people;
some that I know,
some that I don’t

and a pair of lamps,
both shades titled in
such a way that proves
nobody really
cares

the only thing moving
is the flies on the walls
and ceiling,
and the quiet, precise
movements of a man
trying to capture an
eternity
Continue reading...
DC raw love Jan 2015
The Sound Of Silence
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools," said I, "You do not know –
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you.
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said,
The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence.
S&G
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Aditi Jul 2016
What am I to you?
A drop of rain,
In an endless ocean
Another face,
In a crowd of strangers,
A fallen leaf,
When autumn has taken its toll,

Tell me, Darling,
What am I to you?

A potential
gone to waste,
an old building,
its walls adorned with cracks,
A broken flute,
that plays no tune,

Tell me, Darling,
What am I to you?

A brutal sun,
on a hot noon,
or a dull wintery
fading moon,
what do I remind you of,
when I'm gone,
If I do at all,

Tell me, Darling,
what am I to you

'cause you see,
I tore down these walls,
and showed you in
Let you hold my soul
it, now, carries your imprint,

it is another type of strong,
to allow yourself to be vulnerable

and for you,
I'll always find courage to do more,
and all my softness,
you have touched them all

So, darling, won't you tell me now,
what am I to you?

A passing trend,
a familiar name,
or an acquaintance,
in your long list of friends,
your favorite shade of blue,
or, a fuel you need
to carry on,


Tell me, Darling,
what am I to you
Continue reading...
Amanda Blomquist Apr 2013
Dilated Eyes (with Dustin Unger)
Dustin
     Amanda

Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...


This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...


Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...


Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
   
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.


Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
This is a texting duet between me and Dustin at 3AM, its how we communicate.
Continue reading...
Daniello Mar 2012
Imagination
It seems tenuous. It seems
Vanishingly thin but so seems anything
Threaded across the mightiest distance.

The faith I keep in its eternity
(There is no origin as there was no beginning.)
To sustain eyes’ struggle against
Earth’s walls built of paper.

To have them look assuredly  
Into its finite but unbounded space
Beyond the interstice
That reservoir
Unheld by hands divine

Sipping from itself to hold itself
And us full
Teeming most round the brim
In being which we are fulfilled.
reality=information=imagination=10th dimensional symmetry-breaking=quantum observational collapse=consciousness
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MoB Oct 2011
broken
A heart is broken
and broken again.
Broken in so many pieces
it turns to dust.

The dust is blown away.
Nothing remains.

The bits of hope it left behind
are small and scattered.
When the light catches them
they unveil empty rooms and stark, formidable walls.

Nothing is left.
Continue reading...
Reece Sep 14
What They See
When people compliment me,
I feel a crisis of identity.
Was it I whom they were referring?
Or was it someone more fitting?
If I saw what they see,
Perhaps I wouldn’t be,
So self-deprecating,
Maybe…
If I saw what they see,
I could confidently,
Lower my walls and be me,
So much uncertainty.
I’m not one to accept compliments lightly,
I consistently convince myself that I’m not worthy,
Of their praise or their appreciation.
Cursed self-deprecation.
How could I accept such an honor,
When I look in the mirror,
And see,
Someone other than what they are praising?
If I saw what they see,
Perhaps I wouldn’t be,
Filled with anxiety,
About whether or not I’m being true to me.
And if I believed,
That I was what they see,
Maybe,
I’d feel happy…
Self-respect is hard to master.
#short #deprecation #sad #depressing #anxious #conflicting #identity
Continue reading...
Kendall Rose Nov 2016
Do Not Fall in Love with a Poet
it is safe to assume that my poetry will not make you love me back.
you can wash your hands of me,
but once i have tasted you my lips will spill sonnets about loosing myself in your voice until my throat is dry.
i will uncurl metaphors for your smile and the sun and
how they both pour golden light through the cracks in my ribs and into my heart,
until im empty enough to make room for you to fill me.
do not fall in love with a poet.
better, do not let a poet fall in love with you.
we make nasty habits of bleeding ourselves dry to make enough ink out of our blood to fill the page.
do not let a poet fall in love with you,
unless you crave an immortal soul,
because we will write about you on the walls on the inside of our coffins.
#love #poetry
Continue reading...
Mitchell Apr 2011
These Walls are White Alright
Trying hard to keep my head
On tight so not to float off
I take these nights with nothin' to do
And write things down so not to feel blue

There is a fight in us all
A fight to block out the silence we all rarely talk about
To hear the crack of the crow outside this window
Is the only stinging blow I've grown to know

To be born in this time is to be born in any other
With the flushing meadows wide with green flashing pride
And the cunning river roaring for all to know and carry
With mother nature smiling all the while admiring

Working through the hours, the minutes, the seconds
Knowing that the open road will soon shout to beckon
Sendin' me out to the great dying unknown
No use to imagine the sights, wouldn't be right

In these forms of high art, high living, all expensively feelin' ******
Where promises of a God were said to be lingering here
But all I'm feeling in these lonesome parts of town
Is nothing but the drop of pin that makes no sound

Take me to a place where I wear no face
To live a life that will die at mid tomorrow night
Take these hours from me and I'll fight for the light
With bloodied knuckles clenching flirty nickels

Tonight these walls are lonesome, *****, and stranded
I'm feeling the touch of what it means to be branded
Tucked in a corner with all the rest of the world
With a head held up but a soul hanging low

Father listen hard when I start speaking to you
What are your next steps in life, what are you gonna do?
There ain't much time for making money in this worried world
You always told me to pick up the heels, fake to be real

Trains exhale their gases screaming screeches outlandish
The sides of my head are tilting as my sides are roundish
Feet are swelling to the size of ripping watermelons
And the eyes are rolling back never wanted to achieve millions

But the tears that smell of whiskey rye
And the breath that wreaks of ashy lies
Has always been the love I've been searching for
Slowly leading my life to a quiet rippling lore
Continue reading...
Ayeshah Dec 2013
His Universe (Very Explict content don't read of u feel you'll be offended)
I never been on

Verses & Flow or Poetry Slam

don't get me wrong

I'd love to be

but me sharing like that on "mic"

scares the ******* life outta me

yet I admit

I want to in fact would love it

But right now-

I can only tell you how I feel
&
this is how I let **** out

express me&sometimes; let you in

so this is a poem I've made about this dude.

A dude whose comforting and new

a dude whose lenient

and beautiful inward & outward.

He talks to me of so many thing

and he has a mind that speak more

volume then money....

I've been know to deal with them  baller's

those who'd spend on me-

the moment I call em.

He's gentle and kind,

mindful of me & my needs

even

funny even at times

when he's joking round with me.

He lights my way and makes me see

not of everything physical,or ****** either

but of inspiring dreams

for me to do better

than what I've been told I could barely achieve

from listening to past assaults

and dead weighted-ended relationships...

To opening the ******* door

& letting me just be ME....

My hair weaves

he complimented

and my braiding techniques too

from my beautiful big lips

plus this luscious **** hours glass phat *** shape

he says baby your amazing

then kisses my forehead

like Taye Diggs did in both The Best Man movies.

When he touched my breast- not in a ****** way

I felt finally safe-

cuz I asked did you feel the lump there

he kisses me on my cheek

tells me it's ok even if my hair falls out

and all my weaves went away,

he's seen me without em,

seen me with out makeup too.

No need to worry since there isn't even a lump,

so he says & I smile widely.

but if it was I'd still be the most beautiful

this he promises me

and looks me right in my eyes.

This dude says he watched me sleep

sometimes until the early morn

and looked at me like I've never

looked at myself.

Mind you I know I'm fine

but barely was I ever able to know my wealth,

to even ******* know myself worth

or who I really was.

Sadly so beautiful but yet I'm so tainted & insecure

He's seen this about me long ago

yet I thought before him-

that love had to hurt

that the pain I've caused me-

from dealing with other types of "love"

from dudes due their share was somehow real

Other dude's who'd spend

and who'd **** me deep & put my *** to sleep

was what love meant

this "love" I was so used to-

was pose to be fist knocking back my head

eyes black in their sockets,

clothes ripped off

and me being slammed to the ground ******

and left bleeding

Left, deserted, abandon

and me sore bruised-

from ever part of me

cops coming once a month

or when he ****** his boss & I went the *******.

Or love was him- telling ole girl in Chi Town

how much he couldn't live with out her

while sitting on the toilet in my house-

in my bathroom after ******* me

and calling it making love.

Or love was pose to be in my head

when he let his cousin get away with ****** me-

yet I was the who got her *** beat.

I thought from

the age of 6

that I was pose to lay there

just spread wide for you

and let you use me

pinch

poke and rule me!

I didn't know this kind of man

so every time dude came around-

I'd chase him away.

telling him

NAW man I don't date white boi

(that's slang for boy)

but
I've dated the Italian and he liked them easy women

the ones he could change and manipulate

I've dated the Natives born of this "America" land

he showed me what my mother tried to hide-

like a drunkard father beating her at night

this was the Native

who wasn't taught how to eve3r be a man

Then there was Paul-

a mixed up race/breed Native too-

Apache yet Mexican and yet American

in New Mexico they're called Chicano's

so guess that what the **** he was

he had the short man complex

and couldn't bother to talk

he thought *** would be pleasurable

but sadly for me & him

his baby toddler *****

just didn't do the trick.

So hurting worded voices loudly spoke

caused me abuse,

I guess it's still my fault-

I allowed them to hurt me.

The smooth talker,

Casanova,

The Ballers,

The players with the nice whips

(That means cars y'all)

The man who could **** out my mind & my brains

get my ***** wet before he even got to my house

The Mr. Fix it-

whose good at fixing ****

but not for being committed

cuz his check wasn't enough to even put a dent in my rent

and his habit of scathing his *****

and calling me ***** just didn't work.

So these are them type motha fuckas

I'm used to-

like ole boy

who'd carry my books

and help me with all my assignments in college

for a peek yet talk and brag about the *** he hadn't ever hit

not me but that's the story he told

lying since his reputation depended on it.

Sorry but this was my thinking this was how it went

& how it was meant or pose to be

yet
the Egyptian had it best

on top of all these dudes.

His was the ultimate

because his lies where centered

by half truths

which I know

know were more lies

than his word sworn on a Qur'an,

he'd **** his best friends wife

then beat me into submission,

**** me- buy me....

BUY Me,

Bought me

like a slave from way back when

buy me

love me

then buy me some mo

He'd buy all kinds of **** to keep me claiming for me

houses, cars, jewelry,

and name brand items- I'd have a black eye,

ribs smashed to pieces,

but **** I looked real cute

limping round  in my new **** from

Sax 5th Avenue, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada & Versace.

**** name it & I maybe already had it

this is the same man who saved me from

being ***** by my foster father,

yet he became like the foster father

he saved me from

seemingly

after we've became husband & wife...

So when dude comes calling

I hold back built higher walls,

push him away,

fight and get in his face,

waiting for the monster to come out

waiting for him

to slam me to the floor or ground

I never believe a word he says

always looking for a reason or excuse

calling him lair and fake

telling him to ******* & go away

never really given him a

chance for him to be my man.

I be mean and I make him wait

but he says I know your pain

and together we can make it

just let's take it day by day.

He kisses me lightly,

caresses me tenderly

massages me to sleep

listen to my every word

and gives great advise,

has been a friend and part of the family

he has opened me

to expressing his own

pains trails & tribulations

never judgmental or abrasive

not even abusive

not even a little bit.

But
my ****** up mind is so scared

so afraid and ****** I'm worried

.

Honestly my hearts succumbed to his un-willful ways

but I can't fathom

once more being hurt

and I don't know if I even want to

yet I think I do.

So tell me help me please

explain

give advise and tell me

how do I say no when for many months now

he's been making me the center of

His Universe?!

Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®
This has a lot of cussing/swearing in it so if you're not into it or any other ****** language please do not read it thanks.
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IZ J Oct 2021
The Assimilation of Family
Mary’s Mother is from Georgia, her Father from Pennsylvania.
A steelers flag hangs on Mary’s front porch, and every Sunday night in the fall means eating chicken wings while adorned in black and gold.

Mary’s Father has an office.
Inside of it lay a few rusting guitars, but the walls of the room are what truly catch your eye.
The paint itself, a dull muted gray is immaterial when compared to the dozens of plaques that enhance it.
Each frame carries a different piece of Groundhog’s Day memorabilia, many house pictures of Punxsutawney Phil, one is a certificate declaring Mary’s Father an “official Groundhog ambassador”, another an autographed photo from a Groundhog handler.

Mary’s Father claims that Groundhog’s day is America’s second greatest holiday.

Mary’s parents were married at Gobbler's ****.
Punxsutawney Phil attended the wedding.
Mary and her little sister stayed home from school every Groundhog’s day in elementary school, and in middle school they attended but came to school in matching Groundhog hats.

Mary’s kitchen counter has a small black speaker.
Each Sunday morning, Mary’s Father blasts the Polka Party Radio Show hours into the afternoon.
The whole family knows all of the polka songs by heart.
Each Sunday morning they came together to listen to the “Waltz of The Angels”, a Polka special dedicated to various passed loved ones.
Even the turntable in Mary’s dining room only plays Pennsylvania Polka vinyls.

Mary’s incredibly familiar with Hershey Park.
She and her sister have brought home various souvenirs from Pennsylvania’s notorious “Chocolate Town”.

Mary’s family knows Gettysburg like the back of their hand.

I’ve known Mary for over a decade.
I never knew her mother was from Georgia.
“The Southerner’s Handbook” sits in Mary’s living room, the only true mark of Mary’s Mother’s life before she surrendered her maiden name.

I think it is a beautiful thing to give up your culture for somebody else.
I think it is a beautiful thing to sing Pennsylvania Dutch folk music with your Husband on late weekend nights because you know it makes your children happy.
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Bridgette Scotch Dec 2013
in my shyness
In my shyness . . .
At times I retreat to my "shell,"
Clinging to the security of being alone.

In my shyness . . .
I may attempt to merge with my surroundings--
To be ignored, unnoticed, a silent voice rarely heard.

In my shyness . . .
I can feel completely alone,
Although surrounded by people.

In my shyness . . .
I'm perceived as having a padlocked soul--
And few try to gain entry into my realm.

In my shyness . . .
Few will dare venture to really know me--
To hear my quiet voice or to really try to understand.

In my shyness . . .
I can have a myriad of words to say,
Yet, my sealed lips will not release them.

In my shyness . . .
The words I do speak will at times be jumbled,
And I'll feel worse for having spoken them.

In my shyness . . .
I will be viewed as "stuck up" and unfriendly,
Labeled by the presumption of a troubled past.

Yet, despite my shyness . . .
I will at times emerge from my "shell,"
And you may catch a glimpse of who I am.

And despite my shyness . . .
I may put on a good "front,"
Disguising my innermost insecurities.

Despite my shyness . . .
A select few will manage to penetrate these "walls,"
With the sharing of time and the evolving of trust.

My shyness . . .
Frequently unrecognized, seldom understood--
A shackle, a haven, a veil.
Continue reading...
kyss Nov 2017
the panic
my chest is getting tight
the walls are closing in
my whole body is shaking
i wish i could die
i can't breathe
i can't think straight
    i need to get out
i need to get out
help.
Continue reading...
Sjr1000 Dec 2013
Phobic Future
Had hit five hundred pounds
my wife and I
living in our tiny bunker of concrete
waiting for the food truck to deliver to our door.

The outside world had a startling hum
of trillions of insects which were
******* up all the air
we knew it was just a matter of time.
Darkness often descended
and all we knew was our hot breath
breathing on each other
in the tight small space
breathing each other's moist air.

The bunker was heating up
hotter and hotter
which meant the fans
were clogging up
with the bodies
of the insects
and
in my horror it meant
I would have to go
outside
to clear the vent.
Outside Outside
I had not been
For I can't remember when.

The encased cave to the ladder
the walls closing in
while insects smacked their bodies
against the sides
trying to get inside.
I crawled with suffocating breath
Mice rats bats
Sewage dripping
as the walls tightened
around me.

Finally a tiny light lead the way from the cave
to the ladder
which would take me up
to the top
where the vent was clogged.

I climbed that ladder up up up
choking and gagging and spitting out wings
Spiders crawling
On my skin
And my nostrils in
looking down
falling down in my mind
with each and every step
and having to stick my hand
inside
the squished and smashed remains
to find
the screen which  kept them out
and us inside.

I wasn't sure how I would survive.
Finally my task was achieved
and down the rickety shaking ladder
I went back through the cave
to our tiny shelter
and as I went inside
my wife
in her excitment knocked us over.

We lay rocking on our backs
like two turtles
unable to get up.

And there we lay
total helplessness
in our last days.
Continue reading...
Slur pee May 2016
Avocado tree.
What happened to our avocado tree?
I remember when it was vibrant and lively
When lizards would sneakily climb up the trunk
And birds would blend with leaves,
Blissfully chirping, wanting love to be sung
To the world in which we would run
Encapsulated in our backyard
That we thought would stretch as far
As our imaginations.
But it was really just a prison
And that tree...
That beautiful, wondrous tree
Was our sign that we were free
Wanting to climb up as far as we could reach.
It seemed to scrape the moon
And the nights were always gone too soon,
Losing all of our wishes to the sun
When the morning would come.
Evaporating into reality,
We grew up and it started withering.

In our teens, killing flower buds
Smoking all the weeds,
Not getting enough hugs.
We'd find comfort in its leaves.
Hiding from the devil in smoke and memories
Of our avocado tree.

Then we had to leave,
Ripped apart from all we loved
My childhood home, all the feelings that have grown
Like vines, like veins branching out against the walls.
Remember the old days when we thought that there was hope?
We didn't know that we were so dysfunctional
Everything good is gone,
And we've ended up all alone.
Down to three withered leaves clinging to a dying tree.

My avocado tree,
Remember me?
In my mind eternally.

-SLuR
Continue reading...
Kyle Kulseth Jan 2013
Thawing Point
Thaw out frozen thoughts
shoulders hunched against the sleet
stride crunching on the downbeats
familiar haunts are blurring
Hurried northward daydreams don't
trickle south through Douglas Firs
But remember how our paths crossed?
Stargazers both--I balked first

4 blocks down, I'm held accountable
for crusade hypocrisies
I keep tucked in my back pockets
and rolled up in uprolled sleeves

The sun returns, or so I'm told
but it's been evening for awhile.
And, if they're wrong, where are we then?

Left knowing we're left under miles
                         of mounting snow?
Left knowing we've got to stop--
                   but not one clue how to cope
Wondering where hours, weeks and years went
counting calendars we've peeled off walls
Counting marks on records
               marks on faces
Counting calendars
Tally scars--stubborn reminders
     of how we got where we are.

Ground my skyward thoughts
in the grid of frozen streets
I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost
coats the ground, turns steps to beats
I'll keep time, now, walking westward
hands in pockets, eyes on feet.
I'll remember how your breath looked
off of Brooks Street walking east.
Continue reading...

— The End —