Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Benji James Apr 2018
As I awake from eternal slumber
I rise from the ground covered with ash
Bound in a circle of fire
You can call me Johnny Cash
Hands through the fire
They don't burn, no pain
I am immune to fire it seems
Walk right through
surrounded by lightning skies
Thunder rattles my ears
Though I don't burn
I can feel the heat
A thousand degrees
Memories flash before my eyes
Of a past life
I remember monsters and me
Locked together in purgatory

Resurrection
Need a new direction
A new chance I've been given
May have a chance to mend my ways
First I need to figure where I am
Was I resurrected by a holy man
It seems I'm not in heaven
This doesn't feel like the earth
Nothing around but Ash and Dirt
A wasteland I find myself in
Maybe this is my hell
I must have been ******
Because of the sins branded in me
Nobody around in sight
I'm on my own again this time

I've wandered these deserts for many years
No hope in sight
Not sure if in circles I have been walking
Because all the scenery I've seen
All looks the same to me
Trapped in this box
Just a Jack waiting to be set free
Wind me up so I can breathe
See the light just one more time
My mind has slowly deteriorated, insane
Not sure I'll ever be the same
This is torture, this is the pain
This burns even more than the flame
Trapped in this place
I cannot stay
I need to break free of this cell
Can't stay here trapped in hell

Resurrection
Need a new direction
A new chance I've been given
May have a chance to mend my ways
First I need to figure where I am
Was I resurrected by a holy man
It seems I'm not in heaven
This doesn't feel like the earth
Nothing around but Ash and Dirt
A wasteland I find myself in
Maybe this is my hell
I must have been ******
Because of the sins branded in me
Nobody around in sight
I'm on my own again this time

Fed myself holy water,
It burns me inside
Too late for confessing past sins
Can't be forgiven for this
Keep hearing voices taunting me
Saying I'll never be good enough
Can't save myself from the pain I've been dealt
You have failed yourself and everyone else
Them words on repeat, the laughs and the screams
Making fun of me
I'm nothing more than an empty shell
Of who I once was
Tried to be too strong on my own
Now I see it takes more to fight demons and monster alone
The mistakes that I've made
Are put on parade through my dreams
Bound and chained to never leave me

Resurrection
Need a new direction
A new chance I've been given
May have a chance to mend my ways
First I need to figure where I am
Was I resurrected by a holy man
It seems I'm not in heaven
This doesn't feel like the earth
Nothing around but Ash and Dirt
A wasteland I find myself in
Maybe this is my hell
I must have been ******
Because of the sins branded in me
Nobody around in sight
I'm on my own again this time

My soul was torn to shreds
Now just an empty vessel
Eyes pitch black
Not a light left inside
My heart was ripped from my chest
Follow your heart, Now just a distant memory
Said I wouldn't fade
Soulless and Heartless maybe I am
But I'll fight with everything I have left
Until broken in pieces upon the floor
Until I'm unable to move anymore

Resurrection
Need a new direction
A new chance I've been given
May have a chance to mend my ways
First I need to figure where I am
Was I resurrected by a holy man
It seems I'm not in heaven
This doesn't feel like the earth
Nothing around but Ash and Dirt
A wasteland I find myself in
Maybe this is my hell
I must have been ******
Because of the sins branded in me
Nobody around in sight
I'm on my own again this time

It was just monsters and me in Purgatory
Now I see I'm trapped in myself
Fighting the monsters that I had become
To my own demons, I was forced to succumb
But I won't stand for it no more
I'll do what it takes
To claim my throne
Needed a little help
Needed a little guidance
From my angels of light
Help me to reclaim my life
So I'm here praying
Drenched in tears
I need you to help me beat these fears
I need you to support me out of here
Hear my prayers and all I have to say
I need purification
Plunge me beneath these holy seas
Wash me clean, help me heal
I want the power to feel

Resurrection
Need a new direction
A new chance I've been given
May have a chance to mend my ways
Found out where it is I am
Wasn't resurrected by a holy man
It seems I'm not in heaven
But this feels like home
Nothing around but Ash and Dirt
A wasteland I once found myself in
Maybe this was hell
I may have been ******
But I found beauty in who I am
Because of the sins branded in me
They gave me the strength
to find a new way
Nobody was around in sight
There was one beyond my eyes
He filled me with eternal light
Now I've got to let it shine.

©2018 Written By Benji James
Jolan Lade Apr 2018
I dont understand
I thought i had a plan, a way
I got born into this wasteland
Shot into this quicksand
I want to name it a no man´s land
But everyone want´s to claim the right
And they fight
I have trouble understanding.
They hand me this brand
Then commanding me to do "an expanding"
In this world where everyone is grandstanding
Im trying to throttle down to make this landing
One thought scares me
That this might be everlasting.
!M just a little one who´s in progress, far from finished...
How much poetry live within me

Or am I merely a vessel

That has to be loaded and unloaded

To not waste away under the calm wind

And sink to a weighted depth of silent

And unfulfilled dreams


Yet what is the use

Carrying a soul from an unwritten land

To an unread land

Both dotted with footprints of past voyageurs

But no path or end in sight


Perhaps I am destined to be an unnamed pilgrim

That treads upon and whose marks will be tread upon

The wasteland of hapless ambitions

Transforming it into a garden of everlasting

Love, freedom, and hope


There,

You may find me one day

Though you will not know it

Nor will I

Within a petal of the rose


A dust in the dew

The wings of a honeybee


And if you look closely,

Listen closely

Within the laughing wind

As the gale brings all of us

Across the sea

Carrying vessels after vessels

From dream to dream
Sentient Dreams: My Poetry Anthology

https://tiny.cc/sentientdreams

This is the manuscript to my amazon vanity press poetry anthology: "Sentient Dreams" that I have now decided to just share it here digitally. All of the poems have been published here on HP at certain points of time anyway.

Almost all of the poems are from October 2017-July 2019.
Please feel free to share! :)

I don't think I will be adding to this specific anthology in the future. (Except three more poems that will be updated later.)


---
Vessels from Dream to Dream
By: Yidhna
June 25, 2018
bulletcookie Aug 2017
these winds have no chords tonight
drifting over a prairie of loneliness
knotting oozing thoughts of nostalgia
into tumbleweeds of emptiness

weaving darkness follows dusk
as incomplete eyes silently search
canyon phantasma in moonlit cascade
there fairy wisps of fog bank lurch

astride a hairy back enchanted mule
rides this only-monkey's whimpering
Shh-e, Titania, waits there for you
hidden among musk rose whispering

go falling upon thorny-hairy eared cactus
as time does stream disjointed desire
in this wasteland of a singular tactus
caught in swayed affections of heart's briar

-cec
karin naude Jun 2014
once i eagerly awaited the patter patter of your feet
a smile covered face in anticipation
my eyes rejoice
my heart race
blushing cheeks are lovingly embraced
to souls joined again
how naive i have been
your patter patter brings anxiety for fear of the wrath
the grows and brews under the service
exploding without any clear sign
the volcano erupts
the molting lava desecrates all living in its path
succeeding in annihilating the last of my love and affection
barren wasteland all that is left
my mind understands
my souls questions
my body remembers
my heart cannot believe, a wounded soldier in disbelieve of bleeding wounds and missing limbs
i have been here before with cold and broken hallelujah's
the show goes on there is no curtain call
falling on knees
arms on high
singing my broken hallelujah
Kitt Jan 23
When you came into my home,
I felt your gaze lock onto me.
You think I didn’t feel the way
your pale spider eyes stalked me
But I knew, from the moment you cornered me
in the lillies.

When you drew me onto your lap,
I was paralyzed.
Your hands crept closer,
never touching
yet I felt your imagination ***** my thigh
as acutely as though you had struck me
across the face.

You dwelled deep in your elected paradise
while the hell-flames from the sky licked at my limbs
and caressed my body
leaving wounds that would fade into scars
Scars I would carry until the day that I died
in your heart.

You turned my body into a wasteland,
your bubble of hot poison
polluting my heart;
my landscapes scorched
by the fire of your *****
that swept across and broke my life.

You said you could not **** me
--would not **** me-- for
“It was love at first sight,
at last sight,
at ever and ever sight."

But you can always count on a murderer
for a fancy prose style;
you tore me apart
and ripped from within me
my stillborn girl.
This child within me died
and took me along with her

But, fear not, you pentapod monster
for to you, life will go on.
For you, the rest is rust
and stardust.
A Found Poem from Nabokov’s ‘******’
Juhlhaus Feb 16
With tenacious tread I seek the dawn
Like urban trees drink deep
Of lake water and clear skies, I plant my feet
Only to stumble through
The arid wasteland of my wound.

I walk off the pain
Though each step draws the flames higher
Each breath becomes an act of will
My own heel my pyre.

I set my eye, with rigid strides
Press toward the gold horizon line.
Maybe a fool: I am my own fuel
As forward motion consumes, I'm vaporized
And my sparks skyward fly.

Ashes
To ashes, dust
To dust.

Each searing step I take alone
Then in the coals see marks
Of other feet, upward look and meet
Eyes ember bright, fearless
Fingers tracing filaments against the night.

Fire walkers give off the light
By which we find a way
A note or rhyme, a guiding flame
As forward motion consumes, refines
And our sparks skyward fly.

Ashes
To ashes, dust
To dust
To gold.
Pain is lonely but can connect you with others who have been through it too, and beautiful things may result.
lori parr Sep 5
how oft I’ve wondered of your thoughts
secluded there and underneath
and I could swear I caught them once
or twice above the swirling din
how oft I’ve thought I heard you call
across the wasteland of this place
between the sin and through the fate
I felt my name upon your lips
how oft I’ve never come to you
how oft I’ve ever wanted to
Hailey Rose Sep 2018
She’s the popular girl at school
who everyone longs to be.
They know her very well.
Or do they actually?

She chose to wear a sweatshirt today
that could fully cover up
all the bruises her boyfriend left
that are brand new this month.

She comes to school with a bright smile,
but it’s only just for show
because behind that smile is a frown,
and no one will ever know.

Everyone thinks she has it all,
but little do they understand
how severely wrong they are,
for her life is a wasteland.

She hides the hurt and hides the pain,
hiding her tears that pour like rain.
She wears a thousand faces,
all to hide her own.

Getting home she runs to the bathroom
stepping on top of that box.
She observes the numbers slowly going up
and then coming to a stop.

She hears them say, “You’re model material!”
“With that bikini body of yours!”
She shakes her head in denial,
leaning on the sink ready to hurl.

A waterfall of tears ready to fall
as she looks into the mirror.
Swallowing hard, she closes her eyes
and forces a smile to improvise.

Soon dinner is ready
and her parents set the table.
She drags herself to her chair,
looks down at her meal and stares.

Moving the fork back and forth,
not taking a single bite
because of how miserable she is with herself,
"Why am I so revolting?" she thought.
So she kisses her parents goodnight.

Walking up the stairs,
her stomach is a roaring lion.
She sighs, walking into her bedroom,
turning off her lights.

She’s learned to hold all her feelings in
until late at night,
and uses her hand to cover her mouth
so no one hears her cries.
ashw Jul 10
I have nothing else -
Not one person close to me.
Only ever ostensibly known,
Via some overrated reality.
Truthfully, a manufactured facade-
Beneath, a much less pretty wasteland.
I want my real self to be known,
Have all my understandings understood.
So I must find the right words,
Though they always pale in comparison.
There’s no real description, it seems
Of our inner-most workings,
Even here I pause as my depiction stutters.
I wish I could just bequeath my mind
And have my soul be exposed;
For someone to retrieve my thoughts
And need no explanation.
If I can’t emit my true visage,
If only I can see color,
Then I have no hope for completion,
And the loss is overwhelming.
How much poetry live within me

Or am I merely a vessel

That has to be loaded and unloaded

To not waste away under the calm wind

And sink to a weighted depth of silent

And unfulfilled dreams


Yet what is the use

Carrying a soul from an unwritten land

To an unread land

Both dotted with footprints of past voyageurs

But no path or end in sight


Perhaps I am destined to be an unnamed pilgrim

That treads upon and whose marks will be tread upon

The wasteland of hapless ambitions

Transforming it into a garden of everlasting

Love, freedom, and hope


There,

You may find me one day

Though you will not know it

Nor will I

Within a petal of the rose

A dust in the dew

The wings of a honeybee


And if you look closely,

Listen closely

Within the laughing wind

As the gale brings all of us

Across the sea

Carrying vessels after vessels

From dream to dream
Vessels from Dream to Dream
By: Yidhna
Written: June 25, 2018

This redundant post is in case the previous version is not showing up in the community.
His suit is taggered. Bullet holes and tears but finely pressed and clean. Still recognizable as a cop's beat uniform. He unsnaps his gun holster clip. No one uses the old guns anymore. Electronic laser weapons are the fad in the end times. I got a Desert Eagle .45 that has something these fancy tech-lovers don't. Two point three seconds...

You see, it takes a Lectro two point three seconds to charge-up and that happens to be more time than it takes a 'cowboy-movie-loving' quick draw to end you...

"Hi boys! You've got a Buzz here I see? Well...time to move along and let me buy the next round 'eh?" -I say

"Look, there's a drink shack right about a block up from here. Let me get you." -said with a wink

The three look rough as they all do out here in the runs. That's the wasteland roadways in the inner cities. Least that's what they are known as these days. If you're guessing the futures part of that wasteland you got it right. The last war was the Great War. The one that ended all government. Now we have two realities; the corporations large enough to maintain some order and the publicly disordered nightmare.

You'd a thought systemic breakdown would have released the minds of the many from their company masters but it was quite the opposite. Those left and afraid flocked to join the barons making them even more powerful. I work for one of these new titans; Altria Group.

The three look at each other with queer smirks and grins as if their figurin' on what move to make or perhaps figured it already? The middle one draws his Lectro-gun...bad idea.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three down. I walk over them to make sure,

BOOM!

...one last slug in the ringleader's face clears this route. These ******* have been hitting our trucks for weeks from this alleyway. My shots draw out more vermin...Chicago is a mecha for filth. Our heavy operators in the dozer-rigs clear the blockages but it's up to me to stop the vagabonds and hijackers. Only losers don't have a job.

"Well boys you had the chance to take this one to the bar and drink it off...instead you got a buzz still ringing in your ears!" -I tell their dead bodies while reloading my clips

That 'buzz' would be me, Buzziah. I'm The last cop in Chicago. Maybe the last one in America, who knows?

BOOM!
BOOM!

Down go two more ****...I hate sneakies. I lean down to make sure my body cam gets a shot of their faces. I get paid by the ****. My bosses at the cigarette company still want to see their faces for some reason. I never ask, I don't care, I'm just a camel cop...

"Sounds like a ***** joke..." -I say out loud

I know it's confusing. Reynold's used to make camel cigarettes. I'll light one up while my brain explains it for you. When it appeared that the U.S. government had lost control...the major multinational players took action on their own. Some of them, like my employer, they literally killed their competition. Thirteen years later they're the only game in town for smokes, jobs, housing, protection and food...and I am the only cop left. I stop a ****** running by,

"Hey you stop!" -I tell him

He freezes and stares at me shaking. I'm a bit of a celebrity in downtown.

"Do you like the uniform or what?" -I ask him

"Uh-uh-uh man, man just let me go I ain't after your loads?"

I chuckle deeply inside. It is a ***** joke after all.

BOOM!

I turn on my Beats-Sat uplink...

"All clear on routes a-go, all routes a-go..."

Switch the channel to the network Apple link...******* rap. I love it. I catch a tune on the heavy guitar riff and backbeat intro...

<Double forty-fives, double forty-fives>

<YO> -chorus

<Jumped out the War like G I JOE!>

<Landed gig/wid Nort Gruman.>

<Patrollin' my beat as-a-GUN MAN>

<Double forty-fives, double forty-fives>

<BLOW> -gunshot sounds

This feels so right. I hop on my motorcycle and tear-off.

Time for my buzz...

I am the Lord's Strength.

Buzziah Willis...remember it.

I run the streets of downtown Chicago.

I am the law here.

"Wanna smoke?"  He says to the air.
The Last Cop short story intro. Buzziah Willis.
Kathryn Irene Aug 2018
I drag my
feet on this
endless
road
with no
direction
and no
sense of
h o p e
a desire
for more
in this
empty
wasteland

- SkullsNBones
Visit my instagram for more poetry
www.instagram.com/SkullsNB0nes
Roman Aug 2018
The rustic sheet of a door screams as we pull it like a scab
We step inside this warehouse can
Two floors - we're holding hands
His eyes lit like a crescent Moon - excited, he yells "daaad!"

Our head, like swaying swing
We see it all, tongue in cheek
Like controls without the freak
It's so much fun it stings

An asymmetric wasteland
Convenient and distorted
The walls - bleak and boarded
A symbolic sleight of hand

This is where we feel
My father's on the catwalk
Like paranoia paraphernalia
My son's grip tightens, it's the only thing that's real

Absolute felicity
To realize what I have in the confines of my hand
Imperfection in the making - he doesn't understand
Skylarking permissably

A reverie to remember
His smile - sifting through his eyes
Warm, he maneuvers like the flies
He was born in December

Moving closer to my father
He's amidst the in-between
Consistently foreseen
His motion is no bother

He steps along the ply
Somehow keen in his demeanor
Four-years-old, but greener
Tossed and turning - it's the gleaner

The sheet has been disturbed
He's falling to his death
I'm blanketed in sweat
This cannot be deserved

My father's eyes - they match my own
I tear through the distance
Foreseeing and consistent
My father is a witness

The fear - he's fighting falling
We've never known it more
His tiny hands just wishing there were nails
Collective - we're losing all things

I grasp a finger as he falls but not enough to bring him back
My son approaches pavement as it fills my throat the same
I look him in the eyes as they melt away in pain
My body wakes without my mind - hysterically screaming  "DAAAD!"
This happened to me. I awoke, but it didn't make the memory any better. Only the ones to come.
Next page