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Andrew Sep 2017
All comforts we create
Can't compare to the womb
All our fears of fate
Drive us toward the tomb
They cut the umbilical cord
They way I cut my phone cord
Leaving me alone and torn
Wishing I could curl up in a curl
And experience comfort from the world
Where people pay with change
Because they have no money
And people pay with rain
Because they have no honey

I've seen the chaos of fire
And the serenity of water
And the steam that rises when they're combined
The wet ashes of love mix into a thick cement
And become the heart's hardened womb
The heart's hellish hatred blooms
From within the darkness
Bringing us hardships

When my brain is in my eyes
It brings discomfort in disguise
Like the discomfort when I lie
And say I don't give a **** about what others think
Mentally I have become fetal
Yet I'm trying to sound regal
The illusion of indifference
Protects me from conversation
Like the womb or the tomb
And the broom is the tool
That sweeps dirt up under the rug
When my heartstrings begin to tug
The womb is the only place clean and snug

In a world where people become mindless weapons
The womb becomes a pistol
Blasting bullets into the Earth
We save our solidarity
For the moments when massive amounts of people die
And the bar seems to keep rising
And we forget the importance of one
Until we are hit personally
And look down to see blood from multiple wounds
The result of gunshots fired by multiple wombs
Eliza Jan 2018
I dare you to celebrate yourself
To declare your worth
Like you have a child growing
Inside your body
Nurture your soul
Like an infant is watching
And listening ready to recycle it all
Practice peace and forgiveness
For yourself alone
Befriend patience time and time again
Notice your heart beat
And your desires and don't neglect them
Take pride and be joyful
Step gracefully into new opportunities
Stay safe like a baby is in your care
Like another part of you is out there
In this world trying to do you proud
Respect yourself for survival
Show no strength without weakness
And no weakness without strength
Allow your thoughts to travel
Recognise your flaws and truth
Accept control as an illusion
Give your mind time to be
Own that you are a woman
Responsible, brave, loving and free
Stéphanie Aug 2018
I feel jailed in my own body
socially forced to conceive
emotionally sick
hurt within

Scared to transmit pain
in this age of depression
reminding my ancestors' culpability;
will I also hurt my descendant?

Struggling to finish a phd
in this age of precarity
thinking it might push me;
Or, will I fail it all?
Alice Wilde Jan 2017
All I see is up
The pink flower stretches to forever at the sky
I stare wishing to be among the clouds
Its anterior filters the sun’s warmth upon my soft arms
I sit upon the dark, sodden, summer earth
I am all to myself. Alone.
At home under their stems
So benign am I encased by the pink flower

The pink flower trembles under slight hand of a summer breeze
Honeyed are its petals,
But dangerous is its center
Pricking my delicate fingers
If I am not careful
Yet I watch a dragonfly land on it with grace           
Fragile insect legs grip tightly at the miniature pointed peaks

Wind caresses wisps of hair around my petite face
I am like a fairy
Not knowing the wonders of the world
Only the kingdom of the pink flower
Moisture sweetens the air
Drenching it with the breath of nature
Almost as if a mother is breathing comfort into my small body
shamamama Apr 28
One drop of Dragon's breath
Stirs sleeper from dreamtime,

She wakes from the womb of creation
Where shadows dance into form
And reflections live in the past

Bound from silken fibers,
This ancient changeling,
Slowly creeps from cocoon.

Perching on branch
Impulses of flight and
A longing for air and nector
Breathe life into capillaries
And Rivulets newly knit.

Unfurling shape in patient sunlight,
Wings born of a great sleep
Reach into the light,
Waiting for droplets of life
To pulse in her being
Unveiling an opportunity
To fledge.

Where does her life begin and end?
She lives like a drop of water in a cloud.
Changing form from river to ocean
Evaporating to rise and fall
As snowflake on frozen pond

Where does beginning begin?
She  perches on tree of life
As sap flows life into her veins
Like a tree she waits.

Once Caterpiller
Once in darkness
Now life as Milkweed angel.
Butterflies are a beautiful mystery to me.  My latest understanding is when they go through metamorphosis, they literally turn into liquid to reform.This has me in awe!
Pea Dec 2016
a body was where i used to live
knees bruised colors of prayers
kind purple warm green blood flow
dear crimson my old friend


unsex me
an empty shell
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
A tiny seed once tarried in stoic stillness
treasuring in its womb
an embryo with cosmic imprint on its soul...
and the tiny seed hibernated to a mystical trail!

Frosty squalls, summer torments, marauding insects –
all came in a cavalcade!

It dreamt the mighty tree
slumbering in the core of its being,
arching over the earth,
spreading its majesty for every eye to behold!

It yearned for the calming lullaby of the rain,
for the burning kiss of the raindrops
to fire its soul,
to caress to fullness the dormant life in its gravid womb.

In silence, it gazed heavenward –
and lo, an intense raindrop tugged its heartstrings
to a melodic ecstasy
releasing the music of the seedling
from its womblike soul!
Diána Bósa Sep 2018
Did you know that the night hides itself into your
hair? See, that's why it is so dark.
       Your shimmer, love, swallowed me
and I am melting on your tongue of time.
You are likewise the womb and the tomb of mine;
what else the difference but a letter.
Pour your sun inside me and let me rest in your blaze.
Place your moon upon my very heart and see how
I become one with your nightshade.
      My fate is a delicate line
                in the corner of the eyes of yours.
You water and make it bloom with the tears of joy,
drawing the constellation of stars on your very face.
       You are all fair, my love; there is no spot in you.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
child of heart
but not of womb,
would i'd been
gifted to ban the
hope-thieving,
spirit-throwing
parasitic lies,
to shelter ears
& fragile petals
against bruising,
whiskey-glazed
acts and words.
would i might be
gifted now to
soothe, cradling
tender soul through
deadest night's
watery gloom.
yet firmly i know
none other will ever
be gifted to bestow
what only One balm
can perfectly renew,
and He waits for you,
my beautiful girl.
undefined Jan 11
it's not your baby
in the womb i carry
i need your forgiveness

we made no commitments
you do not claim me as yours
but i need your forgiveness

this is what i dream of
on an unsuspecting night
the child of my husband
in the womb in my body
and my mouth forming the words
'i'm sorry'

i have never touched your skin
and i do not think you ever loved me
but betrayal comes in shades
and i feel ashamed to let myself
be without your company

there is a sense of destruction
buried inside my veins
from the absence of you

there are things greater than love

which bind us together and i fear
such binding

it makes my ground shake when i catch
a ray of color which matches your eyes
flushed in the green of the grass
or the blue of the sky

i don't know when it happened, but it did
you found a little home for yourself
within the confines of my mind and
i miss when you were around

it hurts to see you and i don't want to feel you

because the distance and the rain
the deep guilt and the pain
the fact that you feel nothing
you will feel nothing
i fear

my love for you finds itself
manifesting in instances extra-ordinary
my ache for you is buried within knowing that there is another inside the womb of me
and can't get rid of the voice saying;
this isn't how it was supposed to be.
Her Secret Womb

Spring comes clashing into Winter's taproom
Slender Sun rays leak old man cold's pivot
Carrying us all in her secret womb

Winter refutes Spring's trespass wind vacuum
Sleet slaps pedals, an angry exhibit
Don't let us slip into the darkened doom

Delusion wears reality's perfume
A juncture of Seasons, can you feel it
Carrying us all in her secret womb

Sprinkled by Spring, cold wishes to resume
New plants and minds held up by one rivet
Don't let us slip into the darkened doom

Dormant meets new energy, brought by whom
Nature's divinity knows no limit
Carrying us all in her secret womb

Dancing and skipping, we shine and we bloom
Trusting in the Universal Spirit
Carrying us in her secret womb
Don't let us slip into the darkened doom
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
A comely rainbow
spanning the wet, sobbing sky;
colours showering
mesmeric pearls of teardrops on earth.

Many subtle shades of marvel
unfolded that day.

Elegance of burning splendour in sun’s soul -
earth treasuring the seed of the first rain
in its womb for a new birth -
Spring’s svelte fingers
painting brilliance across the droning vale -
mist of radiance of a gorgeous moon -
stars sparkling to a melody
flowing from the divine harp -
sea breeze carving
shifting sculptures on sands of gold -
amorous mirth of sea waves
rushing to the hug of a waiting shore.

I stood there,
a trance benumbing my senses
to an hypnotic bliss.
L B Sep 2017
The ocean through an opened window
Frontier between all that's known
of here
and sleep
riding out the waves as they come

A gull cries in passing

Waves sating themselves
in the womb of the earth
kissing the neck of Bride's Brook
Her seaweed streaming hair
in wind of tides
The moon's pull to release
coaxing spent and tender moans--

the farthest reach of sighs
Actually, this was from a place where I stayed on Cape Cod, MA.
annh Mar 17
Swinging rhythmically; bloated and unsteady,
He nudges at the doorway of his desire,
And descends into darkness,
Carrying his heavy load of lust.

Beyond the bottleneck,
From where warmth and light beckon,
He hears the trill of girlish laughter,
The sound of sanctuary at play.

Pausing briefly; head cocked to one side,
He sighs with resignation,
Deposits his craving clumsily,
And withdraws deflated and defeated.

Once again.
‘She is a wild, tangled forest with temples and treasures concealed within.’
- John Mark Green
somewhere between the fourth and fifth

load of laundry,

sometime after breakfast~lunch,
now served in the USA at home,
as an all day meal, per the edict of Mcdonalds,
start fixing dinner, take a break, walk to the mailbox,
retrieve the post and quick retreat back inside,
ah that Texas sun, bilingual chili hot,
toss the unopened on the prior weeks pile,
cause everyone loves company

the home-cold-brewed ice coffee needs a filling
for the fridge has decided not to help
by automatically refilling the pitcher

even if it could
I, busy folding,
needing two hands
and all my teeth
for folding my master’s rocket ship

sheets

my master observes with one of his alternating demeanors,
this one, super silent watching, announcing that  I need a nap:

“don't you always say, baby,
take a nap when you can, baby,
for when you need one, baby,
you probably won’t be able, my baby”


with selected-hand-led fingers,
he lays me down to sleep,
bids me to slow slide to dreamland, dinner will keep,
curling inside my frame, hands a-cupping my *******,  
telling me a drowsy tale, inherited from his mother’s womb
and his granddaddy’s tongue, mindful of his family’s history

there, is where, they find us,
dinner fixings burnt,
me and my five year old baby boy,
still sleeping fast, around 5pm, bodies enwrapped,
tied by blood and entwined in old nursery rhymes,
Texas tall tales of Pecos Bill,
me and my very own

nap-ster master

<•>

p.s.  and they call me by my other name to wake me, momma
For Beauty's Maiden Name he can Compose
And hope that your Legacy will ever Live
This Shimmering Petal which he dares Un-Fold
Will by Clock's End endear with your Harmony.
Why in the Fifth Summer Month we Praise the Womb
Responsible for the Songs we hear Today
Whilst the Toll's Hand turns from Cradle to Tomb
Your Best Song can chant the Goblins away
And perhaps if I try to Improve my Lot
Then avoid the ****** Record of Defeat
He is your Story; This I almost Forgot
And the Name once-spoken will again Repeat.
With this I Commit, Beauty's Maiden Name
Your Feathers un-changing; Your Spirit Remain.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
So ends the Drama locked into your Bronze
Nike kisses you and shows you her Womb
Who, despite Angry Lads, live Life's Beyond
Now Married are you to Testimony
I guess you will survive the Afterthought
Of Promos and Parcels you will not Resist
The Wheel turns again; And in your Forenaught
Honest Advices refuse to make a Fist
You have this Resume of Deaf-Record,
Partial to Characters you do not Like
Even if they ask Penance for your Accord
Your Self-Righteousness slaps them in-spite.
What's the use? Your Friends will come to your Defense
Even if an Ant like me Stings to make Sense.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
zebra Nov 2018
The write was written
red ice
twice bitten
his soul a black clot

a faucet for a neck
she fell in a crepuscular fold
odor of tincture fuckubus
red mouth
a snarling kiss
a hot hiss chariot
a black bite

her womb spread wide
for a tongue that didn't end
nail polished *******
like torn cherries
soft gauze tourniquet
a slow yield
milk petals and rivulets
a ghastly confection
leaning over like a spilled ***

her gullet a metropolis of jewels
forced throat bound
on a black cross
she sailed on a magic carpet
like a vampires fizz cocktail
a red ice float
of starvation
his mind a dead sky
a pageant of coiled clouds

he held her down
she levitated

they were in love
Vampire
Poetic T Sep 28
I'll never **** with her,
           she's more lethal..
   than a James bond villain…

Her legs have more power
  than a Fukushima releasing
             her poison between
     my hips.

I'm a rod and she's
the water containing my
          explosion...

but she evaporated,
             never watching...

Realising,

that what I release is like a virus.


           Contaminating the womb
of creative contagion...


You'll float in the abortion of my
         chock hold of words...


You'll never be born, still born words,
                     I'll burn you in a shallow grave.
And you'll realise that I'm never  to be ****** with.


My words were like a machete of gunfire cutting
            you up before you even knew pain.

I'm a nationwide hunt, and you'll be buried
                                                       in my words,
shallow rhymes, given a urinated burial...
  
                           I'm relieved your here and not in my view.
Land,
The Mystery
A Nature to One's Mind
A Sand which Flows,
And Glows
And sparkles Success
To One.

Before Men,
Before Cities borne out of
Civilisation's Womb
There was,
And was known to many
That it was Land,
The Enigma,
The Unknown to One.

Who lives in the Deep,
The Paradise Underworld
Of Many,
Of Millions,
Of a Thousand Beings in Atlantis.

The Impossible
Is Done
And should be Done
By One.

The Brave,
The Humble,
The Curious Juniour
One Foot,
That touches the Sand
One Breath,
Of Boreas' Air
One look,
Of Demeter's Feet
One Meet,
At Thriver's Friendly.

And Wisdom,
Has been Known,
And Shown,
The Impossible
Has been Done.

It is One's Dream,
The Goal,
The Conquest,
For the Future of Existence.

The Happiness,
To many of One Nation's Grand
Of Praise and Possibilities.
zebra Aug 2017
i am much younger than i am
my hair is dark and thick
instead of pruned bald
i am lean and meek
feeling hollow
as if weightless

we are at an airport
with no memory of getting there
i had left my hotel room urgently
in a jacket that is not mine
i can't find my Swedish wife
whom i miss like a panicked child
and my Asian wife whom i've never never met before
and know all to well
is angry
and could care less if i got lost forever

i am going home to my parents house
i remember that they are dead
but we had just spoken
there will be soup and Hors d'oeuvre's
they wait for me
on my way
the streets and boulevards are unfamiliar
yet old hat
and no matter how long i walk
i can never find their house
it's located somewhere in Brooklyn
on Haze street in San Francisco
bright is the sun

i have a business
and retain no idea of what i do
i left my cloths somewhere
and i don't know why
in a locality i cant remember
for a reason that doesn't exist

a beautiful woman smiles offers me ***
she is friends with a girlfriend whom i'm committed too
but do not know and never met
i want to cheat with her
but guilty kisses will ruin everything
so i turn away
murdering desire
in an already anchor-less miasma

i remember a past
my life a continuum
of disjointed vagaries
tears well up

i fear myself a figment
a bodiless revenant
stranded in a fog
sparkles and smoke
incandescence and shrouds
a dis-junctured soul
that clutches memories
like braids of dust
living in the eye of nothing
a labyrinth of shades
lighted by the sun of cognizance
a wretched phantom
transparent husk
living a dark fiction
my grave a womb

i am the dead living
Irish Ditty.. One fine day, middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other.
L B Apr 2017
Who knows what stops the heart of a song
I take note

of tiny thud—
robin in the wheel well of my car

the limp head
of a cat’s prey

sigh of wings
defrocked by power lines

baby starling’s fledgling flight
falling short of a pond’s edge

The slate morsel unearthed
by the tines of my rake

…and the world is vacant for a moment

Grief ***** a womb of air
but how it lives— I cannot say
Upended creature of us

Stops the throbs that herald life
zebra Sep 2018
it's the management
here to inform you
your lust has been hacked

we know what your thinking
what you hide
we are all up in your business
like cyber terrorist's

don't ruin your life with to much self respect
we are all watching you *******
to mamma mia meets a hundred shades of crimson
and fight club blood ****
while you ***
screaming
ooooooooh god
licking
holes and poles
like a pig at a trough
praying to be handcuffed and on your knees
sweating and hysterical, a red moon struck **** face
high on drugs
in a dream better then this life has to offer

life is full of yogas
***** pony position
bouncy bouncy

im the light in your darkness
i know what you do
i want pieces of you, you wont show anyone else
your sickness, is my own
you are my love slave
turning me *******
who loves to hurt you

who's the *****
who's the switch

your flawless

now
cry me a river
move a little bit faster and to the left
your **** is a cartoon
**** grinning emoji
bleeding shrieking
fu fu fu fu *******
your brains running out of your eyes

gimmie all your venom
***** movie poem's
*** tongue and *****
your mouth like hemoglobin jewelry
saliva diamonds

kiss that
you'll never go back
squealing smooth heat
breathing winds of perfume
love and pain
united by
tragedy and desire
by
the grotesque and the beautiful
like thirst holds stones

stop crying

you know baby
you look your best on the toilet bowl
shameless
a delicious little *******
that holds me close to life
like a baby to the womb

please
stop banging on the door
im using this stall
Thank you
The Management
neo surrealism/ surveillance state ***
KiraLili Oct 2015
Two teams collide on grass
It's the rugby scrum 15 a side
Arms interlocked men bow heads
Crashing over the ball the backs wait
Brute force and will drive one team over
The ball is ripped from this angry womb
Hurled down the line of blood soaked backs
No helmets pads or forward pass only the drive
Men with cauliflower ears tear new scars
All head for the end to dive for a try
Flying over the line the ***** impaled in grass
Rugby
Ella Downing Mar 25
A luke warm blanket
That gives a new weight

A rhythmic sequence
Scshh, Scshh, Scshh, Scshh

A frustrated father
A shivering lump

A square glass box of joy.

A communal experience
A comforting one.

Back on dry land, body feels strangely weighted
Mind lighter than before.
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