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"wreaks" poems
These streets are home to countless rodents emerging for a moment to feed or breed or just to breathe the sun One by one line up for the chance to make something out of nothing Who are they and where do they go while the city refuses to sleep ___ Doors to endless lands line the avenue each its own portal to the unimagined A family of four with the yapping mutt or a lonely cat lady whose entryway wreaks of ***** a drug dealer door slamming every hour on the hour or an empty snowbird's nest On the surface everyone pretends they don't have a hole to crawl back to or walls that know every night But below the sewer grate a world filled with the stench of what could have been a good day Many a barkeep can shed some life on these drunkards' rat king or at least a story of those who made it out Once or twice it'd be grand to see the bottom of a martini glass left with a sip or two instead of the casually tipped lipstick-clad cocktail, drained of doubt and despair until morning warms the frozen dreams of those retired to a paradise unknown
0
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Rats
There is something magical in the whirring of a midday laundromat. A cessation of pride, maybe. People all dressed in sweatpants the air full of detergent smell and the sound of coins clicking against great tumblers as they go round and round and round and round... The people smile back, no use pretending superiority here. Whistlers twitter on, folding towels and socks into neat, organized piles. The children are well behaved, their hands full of potato chips given by their parents as a pittance for their patience. The patient patrons ponder on, their empty hands crumpling receipts. This, with the crunching of chips and the distant whistle over the percussion of clicking coins clattering in a dryer compose an unintentional opera, an ode to humility. Humility's honorable honesty heals humanity's hubris. Noisy trucks pass outside the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows, Where the hot air wreaks its violence and men make their ways in spite.
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Ode to Humility (laundromat)
# A lively debate that inside I create A seemingly simple state But this state of affairs Is like a ****** affair* The details I wish not to share Please, don’t stare For inside I’m scared Am I prepared? Do I have the ***** to do what I really care? Or am I going to stay on this ship of self-despair Where I can scream my lungs ****** into the air But does anyone care? Do I even f@cking care?? Maybe a life spared but ***spare me the retched bullsh@t*** of self-pity I’m self-giving It wreaks up the air It’s noxious scent is not one I care to ever encounter or fair Let’s “clear the air” and take on what I want from now on No longer a pawn who is living the tired joke of some *pathetic love song* No, THIS is my “Swan Song” Where I belong This sh@t is ON! Climbing the mountain strong Bellowing a chant a song That’s been so deep within for so long It can only come out Right Because “wrong” does not belong **This virus is airborne** No longer forlorn All the darkness is gone You have been forewarned Are you ready? Because it’s coming Sounding the horn Sacrificed the firstborn The “storm” Once icy and cold Now simmering warm Going to bubble into volcanic ash scorned This Oath hath been sworn Tattered and torn **** cloth all that is worn But forward my path What’s behind me **My *** The past *Worn out, decayed, and shriveling trash* All that is gone as I head towards the dawn Through the darkness I’ve trekked The Sun rises ahead And with it My song My Swan Song I am reborn withered and worn But still strong I belong ***I am one with the Universe*** The path before me is brightly lit with happiness and joy No more patheticness All the grit and the spit Broken teeth All that sh@t It all meant something It was THIS *Every bruise Every break All the “wrongs” and “mistakes”* Are what it takes You can call it fate or simply short of fatal but since neonatal through this day till Every day I thankfully say “Thank you” for showing me the way Because now I have A love that stays A true love One that can’t get away Because I value Me One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’ But like a house Each brick is laid Onto the next Foundation made A sturdy house Can’t blow away Hard work put in Made it this way The same for me The price I paid But end result A saving grace #
0
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
Swan Song
# A lively debate that inside I create A seemingly simple state But this state of affairs Is like a ****** affair* The details I wish not to share Please, don’t stare For inside I’m scared Am I prepared? Do I have the ***** to do what I really care? Or am I going to stay on this ship of self-despair Where I can scream my lungs ****** into the air But does anyone care? Do I even f@cking care?? Maybe a life spared but ***spare me the retched bullsh@t*** of self-pity I’m self-giving It wreaks up the air It’s noxious scent is not one I care to ever encounter or fair Let’s “clear the air” and take on what I want from now on No longer a pawn who is living the tired joke of some *pathetic love song* No, THIS is my “Swan Song” Where I belong This sh@t is ON! Climbing the mountain strong Bellowing a chant a song That’s been so deep within for so long It can only come out Right Because “wrong” does not belong **This virus is airborne** No longer forlorn All the darkness is gone You have been forewarned Are you ready? Because it’s coming Sounding the horn Sacrificed the firstborn The “storm” Once icy and cold Now simmering warm Going to bubble into volcanic ash scorned This Oath hath been sworn Tattered and torn **** cloth all that is worn But forward my path What’s behind me **My *** The past *Worn out, decayed, and shriveling trash* All that is gone as I head towards the dawn Through the darkness I’ve trekked The Sun rises ahead And with it My song My Swan Song I am reborn withered and worn But still strong I belong ***I am one with the Universe*** The path before me is brightly lit with happiness and joy No more patheticness All the grit and the spit Broken teeth All that sh@t It all meant something It was THIS *Every bruise Every break All the “wrongs” and “mistakes”* Are what it takes You can call it fate or simply short of fatal but since neonatal through this day till Every day I thankfully say “Thank you” for showing me the way Because now I have A love that stays A true love One that can’t get away Because I value Me One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’ But like a house Each brick is laid Onto the next Foundation made A sturdy house Can’t blow away Hard work put in Made it this way The same for me The price I paid But end result A saving grace #
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148
This poem is dedicated to the fallen of the First World War, and also, to all those we have lost in the years since. - Somme Harvest - In the early morning Dawn of the fiery horizon, The sea of green caresses the land And gave it gentle kisses Of tender sadness. On this day many an unlived life would find Life in Death, but first must come Death in Life, Indeed, a bouquet of barbs grace the Dark, dank, ***** Halls of Morningstar, Servants go to and fro preparing the sordid feast Of unsung heroes. Babes in arms are they, who shall Ever sleep till the break of the final day. Fields of Flanders infertile, But for the harvest to ripen The fertilizer of life is Scattered, battered, tattered, Sown, Human manure, nutrient of vitality, It seeps into earthly soil. In the year of our Lord, One thousand, nine hundred and sixteen Did the farmers collect their greatest bounty, Not all farmers reaped massive yields, Farmers Kultur, Sickle and Hammer Fed their maniacal hunger with rotting corpses, While famers Lion, Bulldog and Bald Eagle Wept their hunger with mechanical eyes, Farmer Scythe, steward of Morningstar, Laughed dry, dead tears of hungry joy And sang the golden harvest song As his blade swam through the harvest thirstily, For indeed, the harvest was an endless Smoky sea of blood green And thousands were sailing. Twilight gleaming through the sky, The raging war god vomit’s dry thunderous wrath And wreaks barbaric, savage, ferocious, ****** carnage below, As sleeping Babes in arms fly through the red twilight. Vultures dressed in human feathers Gather and crowd around their congealing cold feast, With hatred sewn on their Lifeless, lidless Blind eyes, They shriek their throaty, ****** Thankless prayers to idle gods. A multitude of thousands upon thousands Of souls sour to the heights of Mount Olympus, Unshed tears, My child, I saw you in that dusky evening half-light, Flying, soaring and rising higher with your Brothers-in-arms. As I looked up at the darkening sky My heart wept warm tears of ebbing love, While my eyes forever dimmed the light, And my baby, My body became the Earth, The phoenix has nested.
0
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 6:04 AM UTC
Somme Harvest
This poem is dedicated to the fallen of the First World War, and also, to all those we have lost in the years since. - Somme Harvest - In the early morning Dawn of the fiery horizon, The sea of green caresses the land And gave it gentle kisses Of tender sadness. On this day many an unlived life would find Life in Death, but first must come Death in Life, Indeed, a bouquet of barbs grace the Dark, dank, ***** Halls of Morningstar, Servants go to and fro preparing the sordid feast Of unsung heroes. Babes in arms are they, who shall Ever sleep till the break of the final day. Fields of Flanders infertile, But for the harvest to ripen The fertilizer of life is Scattered, battered, tattered, Sown, Human manure, nutrient of vitality, It seeps into earthly soil. In the year of our Lord, One thousand, nine hundred and sixteen Did the farmers collect their greatest bounty, Not all farmers reaped massive yields, Farmers Kultur, Sickle and Hammer Fed their maniacal hunger with rotting corpses, While famers Lion, Bulldog and Bald Eagle Wept their hunger with mechanical eyes, Farmer Scythe, steward of Morningstar, Laughed dry, dead tears of hungry joy And sang the golden harvest song As his blade swam through the harvest thirstily, For indeed, the harvest was an endless Smoky sea of blood green And thousands were sailing. Twilight gleaming through the sky, The raging war god vomit’s dry thunderous wrath And wreaks barbaric, savage, ferocious, ****** carnage below, As sleeping Babes in arms fly through the red twilight. Vultures dressed in human feathers Gather and crowd around their congealing cold feast, With hatred sewn on their Lifeless, lidless Blind eyes, They shriek their throaty, ****** Thankless prayers to idle gods. A multitude of thousands upon thousands Of souls sour to the heights of Mount Olympus, Unshed tears, My child, I saw you in that dusky evening half-light, Flying, soaring and rising higher with your Brothers-in-arms. As I looked up at the darkening sky My heart wept warm tears of ebbing love, While my eyes forever dimmed the light, And my baby, My body became the Earth, The phoenix has nested.
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62
dandelion eyes, rose petal lips counting down the seconds until our next kiss like rolling thunder, impatience rumbles through me because even wrapped in your arms, I finally feel free the time passes as slow as the color of your skin honey, sweet, honey… oh, how I yearn to drink you in and as the sun sets on yet another lonely night I delight in the way it peeks through the blinds rays of gold shimmer in, finding rest upon my cheek all I feel is your warmth and on my heart, havoc wreaks for even in this golden hour — the time that reminds me most of you — eons will pass  before I am once again close to you
0
Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 2:07 PM UTC
golden hour
One, and two, and two, and two The people I saw to get to you The door, the desk, the man, the bed The thoughts of what you're going through My face a distant helpless frown My heart gave way when I saw you wince My knees felt weak and Buckle-y The thought, it came: I let you down Control so far, we can't attain Alternatives so distant now Delete the wrongs this world wreaks Loss too great, the horrid pain A miscarriage of all our aims No doctor can prescribe a cure I finally scream in cathartic rage "I thought this ******* comic was about video games"
0
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
Loss
Pilsner cap switch blade tie dye and piccolo greasers and freaks with platform feet muscling in on the bow legged hoofer tapping Bursey Hill Tram Diamond tuft console mullets n' **** angels and saints (unrestrained) appropriately trimmed as 3 mile wreaks havoc on the nickers and fighters of penn Bangers and home boys hookahs and sheiks hostile geeks breaking knuckles and jaws on the caners and skinners who are locked and grinding the root Desert boot foothills boardwalk jeans rainbows and sea fairs and psychedelic dreams (the platinum queens jamming it hard on the jade room floor) 8 tracks and fender packs the hottest summer days psychedelic haze center hall, graffiti scrawl (sinister yet refined!) covering the subtle yet striking third **** Brunswick cues and red man chew 350 blocks (on a solid Chevy - stock) monkeys and beatles and laugh in scenes pastel dreams from the long and coveted velvet scroll
0
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
Zeitgeist
Virgo in the ascendant, Saturn in decline, A retrograding antidote, A calculated rhyme; Overtones of melancholy, Undertones of mirth, A surfeit of misfortune, Of musery a dearth Faithless Fortune taps her foot, While plotting my demise, A rhythm most unruly, A metaphor unwise; In minutes and in seconds, She wreaks havoc on my pen, A glib faux pas, no coup de grâce... And so I start again. § _My zodiacal tendencies, Triumphant in their prime, Fade to skepticism As life spins on a dime._
0
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
A PLAGUE ON BOTH THEIR HOUSES
Your plight becomes your calling once more as you retreat to daunting servitude unbeknownst unto your own soul, the mired fog which blinded your path prior reaches out to you Claws sinking, you succumb to lies and deceit as if it were your only surmise I know better, but I am not the one to call your place in line amongst the unwavering compassion I own for you You make your choice based on a haze of comprehension, no eyes could see nor heart could feel; indecision stifled your beckoning before, and yet you return to the same darkness even you called foul for yourself You knew where harm reached out to you; intention set, you saw the crimes which took your heart for granted; you spoke to me, with me, of all the things you sought but were met with insalubrious dissonance.. And yet.. My heart sinks, my chest burns, my mind wreaks havoc on itself just to know: why? I am for you, unconditionally; you betray not my heart, but merely your own Until the day comes you see true unto yourself, I settle now to be in your shadow..
0
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
Wait..
Well it's a hell of a feeling and a sour deal. Hangover wreaks havoc apon my gut. Numb my thoughts to everything i feel. She's got her reason's I got mine. Hours between us. Sunrise please dont find me sobber. Or leave me busted near that florida state line. Drinking with the devil satan give me such heck. My life's a play. My soul a well thought out trainwreck. Well big hip gal wont ya warm this bed. Cause ya know tommorows a gift. So let's do something to remind tombstone he isn't yet dead. Work that back sugar dont think twice. Little gals may be the norm. But thoose sticks break so easy and thoose big gals just feel so nice. Southern are my ways New York's far from my mind. Todays a scratch. So thats why im leaving my wicked past behind. Smoked and drank tonights pay. Big gal i love ya. But as for a drifters soul and me ya know i can never stay. Found my troubles in mean angry eye's knocked thoughts apon the deck. My life's a gamble. As in the rhymes of a full tome ****** and a well thought trainwreck.
0
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 11:16 PM UTC
A Well Thought Trainwreck
She never wanted to be a Mom, and now her life is nothing but wrong; What will she tell everyone she knows, maybe she'll wait until she shows? ~ The Fetus who slumbers in her Womb, one day will be running out of room; She must Abort this one in her, for shame she simply can't endure. ~ She makes an appointment at the clinic, know one must know, no one must see; She arrives the next day, still so unaware, that her Fetus is growing, lots of hair. ~ They lay her on a Hospital bed, where soon the Fetus will be dead; The Doctor inserts a clear, long tube, where it wreaks havoc, within the Womb. ~ The baby moves away from it, it feels like she has just been bit; Upon her face, there is a scowl, it's much too late to turn back now. ~ The hose clamps on to her very, small hand, the Fetus can't cope, nor understand; It pulls the hand right off the arm, yet Mother thinks she did no harm. ~ Next it grabs onto her hip, and her tiny leg begins to rip; Emersed in pain, she pulls away, she'll not live to see another day. ~ At last it latches onto her head, the heartbeat stops, this child is dead; She smiles, her reputation intact, a conscience is one thing she lacks.
0
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 3:54 PM UTC
~NO CONSCIENCE~
Arise Great Britain, swell wi pride this is no time tae split, divide, a hero needs us on his side a man apart Brave Osbourne comes wi manly stride and lion heart When danger ca’s, he stauns and fights He’ll haud the baddies bang tae rights Nou in their een he sees the whites and yells, “Attack!” He’s got oor mojo in his sights – He wants it back! Let’s cheer his valour tae the roof Condemn the wans wha’d cry him couff And pray oor Geordie’s bulletproof As on he flies Then fit him wi a parachute and wave guidbye. This GM perfect Tory clone need not rely on un-manned drone He’ll tackle ISIS on his own their fight dissolve His pores squirt pure testosterone his eyes, resolve Just watch the baddies turn and flee as George, wi patriotic glee wreaks vengeance for democracy a one-man dojo And cries, “Come, Britain, flock to me, and feel my mojo!” Or mibbes we should check this twice. Although the image may be nice The blood we risk on his advice may never stop - But Geordie will not sacrifice one ****** drop These profiteering pinstripe ****** wha ken no life but politics Are no the first tae play these tricks while deals are made Why no just wave a crucifix and shout “Crusade!” So hooses burn and horror grows A stream o misery outflows While braggard Geordie struts and crows, "Ye want a fight?" I’d dump him on Damascus road tae see the light Ye plot the death o innocents Tae score yir points in parliament Yir fascist mocking o dissent it suits ye well George Osbourne, ye're a proper gent **** ye tae hell.
0
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
To Saint George
Arise Great Britain, swell wi pride this is no time tae split, divide, a hero needs us on his side a man apart Brave Osbourne comes wi manly stride and lion heart When danger ca’s, he stauns and fights He’ll haud the baddies bang tae rights Nou in their een he sees the whites and yells, “Attack!” He’s got oor mojo in his sights – He wants it back! Let’s cheer his valour tae the roof Condemn the wans wha’d cry him couff And pray oor Geordie’s bulletproof As on he flies Then fit him wi a parachute and wave guidbye. This GM perfect Tory clone need not rely on un-manned drone He’ll tackle ISIS on his own their fight dissolve His pores squirt pure testosterone his eyes, resolve Just watch the baddies turn and flee as George, wi patriotic glee wreaks vengeance for democracy a one-man dojo And cries, “Come, Britain, flock to me, and feel my mojo!” Or mibbes we should check this twice. Although the image may be nice The blood we risk on his advice may never stop - But Geordie will not sacrifice one ****** drop These profiteering pinstripe ****** wha ken no life but politics Are no the first tae play these tricks while deals are made Why no just wave a crucifix and shout “Crusade!” So hooses burn and horror grows A stream o misery outflows While braggard Geordie struts and crows, "Ye want a fight?" I’d dump him on Damascus road tae see the light Ye plot the death o innocents Tae score yir points in parliament Yir fascist mocking o dissent it suits ye well George Osbourne, ye're a proper gent **** ye tae hell.
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54
As the stormy weather passes; Shadowed waves along the bay. The wind sweeps through the headland grasses, And we breathe the violent day. And violent days abound, Where the sea and land collide. And in every fishing town, Lay the marks of those who’ve died. They lay as stark white crosses; Set within, green and grassy field. And we that breathe tote the losses, … And keep our thoughts concealed. For what can man or woman say, That will calm the hurt within? For some that braved the sea today; …. Have yet to come back in. Ten souls are held in thrall, By the dark and brooding seas. And stark are the faces, one and all, As we make our silent pleas. Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The church bell tolls a heavy toll, And candles light, pane on pane. Whilst desperate eyes search the rocky knoll, Through high seas, and cur-sed rain. Worried hands, wring worried hands, And they wring out misery. Wives fidget and spin their golden bands, And make their silent plea. Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The rain sheets in across the bay, It writhes in violent spree, And we look anon in grim dismay At the ferment of the sea. And terrible it is to see that sight, That holds fathers, sons, and lovers. And hold the fear, that the sea just might, Bear new crosses, ‘midst the others. And in the silence of the rain, As it dashes hopes upon the sea. I walk with other souls in pain, As we make our silent plea. Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The raging storm wreaks its worst, Shadowed waves along the bay. Our thoughts become bleak and cursed, As we breathe the violent day. And then a voice crisp and clear, Shouts “Look ye to the lee”! And there we spy the crew, so dear; Of the good ship Karalee. Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye… Homeward bound.
0
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 6:06 AM UTC
Homeward bound.
As the stormy weather passes; Shadowed waves along the bay. The wind sweeps through the headland grasses, And we breathe the violent day. And violent days abound, Where the sea and land collide. And in every fishing town, Lay the marks of those who’ve died. They lay as stark white crosses; Set within, green and grassy field. And we that breathe tote the losses, … And keep our thoughts concealed. For what can man or woman say, That will calm the hurt within? For some that braved the sea today; …. Have yet to come back in. Ten souls are held in thrall, By the dark and brooding seas. And stark are the faces, one and all, As we make our silent pleas. Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The church bell tolls a heavy toll, And candles light, pane on pane. Whilst desperate eyes search the rocky knoll, Through high seas, and cur-sed rain. Worried hands, wring worried hands, And they wring out misery. Wives fidget and spin their golden bands, And make their silent plea. Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The rain sheets in across the bay, It writhes in violent spree, And we look anon in grim dismay At the ferment of the sea. And terrible it is to see that sight, That holds fathers, sons, and lovers. And hold the fear, that the sea just might, Bear new crosses, ‘midst the others. And in the silence of the rain, As it dashes hopes upon the sea. I walk with other souls in pain, As we make our silent plea. Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye homeward bound. The raging storm wreaks its worst, Shadowed waves along the bay. Our thoughts become bleak and cursed, As we breathe the violent day. And then a voice crisp and clear, Shouts “Look ye to the lee”! And there we spy the crew, so dear; Of the good ship Karalee. Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight, And make your actions sound. See that the tiller is rigged alright, And get ye… Homeward bound.
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65
There is a void in me that silently shouts hello at people who claim to be in my life It screeches at those who have hurt me but they don’t really care It surrenders to all that was promised to me but never delivered It contemplates freedom or silence as it is indecisive about whether it should speak out or not It is enslaved by anger and fed by pain This void forces itself to sleep but anxiety wakes it up with vigour each and every single time This void reaches out to my heart but that felon turned a blind eye My brain trades places with my soul and orders my vessels to stop trying to be the good guys They try to fight but my brain wreaks with anger and orders silence upon them Blades of hurt beg for redemption but this void hears nothing Drops of internal tears touch the void’s senses but it has grown too strong for anything to change it It has taken control over everything and my brain being the sergeant leads this void They march together to destroy all that is worth life within me All that is beautiful turns into grey dry petals dried up by savage terrorists These terrorists call themselves agony and torment They terrorise my emotions and cast discomfort upon them They try to escape through my skin pores but chains and shackles were whipped and girdled around them They cried for help but this void silenced them with a lash of frustration This void cut me deep and built its own palace in my soul and spirit Everything else was executed and my body failed to adjust to the new system hence breathe became less and less I found myself lying on a floor full of pictures Pictures of my childhood and family I gazed upon them and sorrowful tears ran down my cheeks I am donned with a void that took my life from me Bygone I am
0
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
There is a void in me
There is a void in me that silently shouts hello at people who claim to be in my life It screeches at those who have hurt me but they don’t really care It surrenders to all that was promised to me but never delivered It contemplates freedom or silence as it is indecisive about whether it should speak out or not It is enslaved by anger and fed by pain This void forces itself to sleep but anxiety wakes it up with vigour each and every single time This void reaches out to my heart but that felon turned a blind eye My brain trades places with my soul and orders my vessels to stop trying to be the good guys They try to fight but my brain wreaks with anger and orders silence upon them Blades of hurt beg for redemption but this void hears nothing Drops of internal tears touch the void’s senses but it has grown too strong for anything to change it It has taken control over everything and my brain being the sergeant leads this void They march together to destroy all that is worth life within me All that is beautiful turns into grey dry petals dried up by savage terrorists These terrorists call themselves agony and torment They terrorise my emotions and cast discomfort upon them They try to escape through my skin pores but chains and shackles were whipped and girdled around them They cried for help but this void silenced them with a lash of frustration This void cut me deep and built its own palace in my soul and spirit Everything else was executed and my body failed to adjust to the new system hence breathe became less and less I found myself lying on a floor full of pictures Pictures of my childhood and family I gazed upon them and sorrowful tears ran down my cheeks I am donned with a void that took my life from me Bygone I am
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25
I am that shadow, the one who is still lost I don't know why it's like that I am that demon, I am that angel that one who will always be stuck I am that darkness, that wreaks of filth you know what it is I mean I am that entity, that used to care I was once a living being I am dead on the inside, I have you to thank I am simply what I am I am that shadow, that was once a man I have since lost my identity I turned to God, I asked for help I have yet to find a reply I am that shadow, that was a man you make me want to die Because of you, I feel so lost you're always on my mind Because of you, I'm only a shell of what I used to be I prayed to God, I prayed to me none seem to help I cried and cried, I fell asleep and now you're in my dreams I was a man, I really cared I guess that wasn't enough I am that shadow; I am that shell of what I used to be My sea is dark, it's so deep I cannot see that light Somewhere inside, deep within me I know it must be there I am that Angel, I am that demon I always fight myself Do I love you, do I hate you? this is my own war I wanted to help, I want to save you From what you cannot see I tried so hard, I tried to fight But I am no longer me I harden up, on the inside to makeup for my loss Because of you, I am a new me I feel there's no love Love is fake, a small illusion of what we call lust It's not real, you stubborn fool you're thinking with your head I drive my car, I leave my past I drive so far away You cannot see, you cannot hear what I want to say I am a shadow, I used to care But now I am a shell Who am I, what am I? I am no longer me.
0
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 9:18 AM UTC
I am darkness
I am that shadow, the one who is still lost I don't know why it's like that I am that demon, I am that angel that one who will always be stuck I am that darkness, that wreaks of filth you know what it is I mean I am that entity, that used to care I was once a living being I am dead on the inside, I have you to thank I am simply what I am I am that shadow, that was once a man I have since lost my identity I turned to God, I asked for help I have yet to find a reply I am that shadow, that was a man you make me want to die Because of you, I feel so lost you're always on my mind Because of you, I'm only a shell of what I used to be I prayed to God, I prayed to me none seem to help I cried and cried, I fell asleep and now you're in my dreams I was a man, I really cared I guess that wasn't enough I am that shadow; I am that shell of what I used to be My sea is dark, it's so deep I cannot see that light Somewhere inside, deep within me I know it must be there I am that Angel, I am that demon I always fight myself Do I love you, do I hate you? this is my own war I wanted to help, I want to save you From what you cannot see I tried so hard, I tried to fight But I am no longer me I harden up, on the inside to makeup for my loss Because of you, I am a new me I feel there's no love Love is fake, a small illusion of what we call lust It's not real, you stubborn fool you're thinking with your head I drive my car, I leave my past I drive so far away You cannot see, you cannot hear what I want to say I am a shadow, I used to care But now I am a shell Who am I, what am I? I am no longer me.
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56
this oriental rose textured with occidental precision desperately seeks perfection in all things worldly nature’s true signature wreaks havoc instead: in the rocks of the grand canyon in a mole on a cheek in the dried but fallen leaves of autumn even in the scribbling of our children embrace wabi-sabi where wafting moments of melancholy transform to sheer joy in the subtle realization that coexistence with incompleteness the proven path to release one from the chaining bonds of perfection © 2021
0
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 10:45 AM UTC
wabi-sabi
Falling for toxic boys when will we realise Mr. Wrong wreaks havoc whereever he goes leaving behind a litany of woes What’s the attraction of the bad lad? known universally as a cad pure catnip for some women in their pool I won’t be swimming Maybe their addicted to drama flying in the face of karma is ungentlemanly behaviour mistaken for passion or wearing a lothario the new fashion Their well versed in the art of seduction continuously rehearsing their next production maybe romance with a ladies man is a headrush back in the day I had many a bad lad crush
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Toxic Boys
Read the words upon the page Depicting how was such an age That, then, ensconced in everyday In truth, permitted Hell to play. Where age with all it's wisdom gleaned Should logically be rightly seen As guidance for emerging youth Where past mistakes impart as truth. Though tragically, bereft as seen, The actuality now doth scream For youth doth relegate to grass Aged wisdom's pearls.... as shattered glass. Dispersed amid the flotsam tide Lies that which salves salvation's hide, Lies that which wreaks of God's works, twist, Dispersed through cold, Alzheimer mist. The waste of ancient eyes at rest Expelled, devoid of life, at best But should a crisis start to burn Old minds may co-opt young to learn? History makes the paradigm That thumps the lesson home, with time, In squandering the wealth of age We burn the story, tear the page. Now delegated to the shelf Immersed in indignation's self Old wallow in blue pity's taint Inhibited by self restraint. But then the moment comes around When happenstance, by chance compound, When youth, of clear complexioned face, May stumble into mute disgrace.... Thence whilst the Angel trumpets grace Whence in that vacant, silenced space, Then flows of wisdom tumble thine From lips that spake in ancient time. Knowledge held in Holy Grail Empirically forth then, when regaled, As pomp and circumstance decreed Should all, combined then, .... be agreed? M. 9th December 2022 Foxglove@Taranaki,NZ.
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Dec 8, 2022
Dec 8, 2022 at 10:20 PM UTC
Translucence of a Generational Transfer
Missing him is like looking out the window and realizing it's been raining for three days straight. Moments pass by so fast that you forget they even existed. The raindrops are so thick that the faces in front of you are blurred and you start to drown in the feeling that you get when you see him. The feeling that you get when she wears his sweater and when the air wreaks of the cologne on his neck. You try to avoid the wind that carries his voice around your ears but sometimes you hear it even when he isn't around. It isn't fair that he got to walk away dry and you're still drenched in the mess he made of you. By Chloe Elizabeth
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
Missing Him
Good grief what's that smell Wreaks like you've been rotting in hell Wanna explain why it's like that And your mood changed at the drop of a hat Tell me why That all I do Is make you cry All I feel is love, for you C'mon and run away Leave me standing here today Back up your words with action And give yourself satisfaction Do you have the guts and ***** To answer my texts and calls A world with you is pain A world without you is dark and covered in rain C'mon and run away Leave me standing here today Back up your words with action Run away and get your satisfaction Too long it has been I still remember where and when You left me standing there I don't understand but I deem it fair You ran away and I want you back! Is that to much to ask? I need another chance another crack! Before I drink from my friend the flash! C'mon and run away Leave me standing here today Back up your words, with some action And get yourself a little satisfaction
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Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 4:50 PM UTC
Satisfaction
cradle your head in your hands as every barbed whisper in your head echoes until it's thunder wreaks havoc you are a jarring lance against the wall while the buzzing breath of the world rolls **you are not here you were never here** you can only pray, only only only wish you weren't but you cannot just will yourself to die with the fierce passivity that comes with nirvana because you know that while you can still convince yourself there's something better in the future barely but barely is something still even though presently you are on a slab and you were Romeo who believed he died alone, on the top you are on a table dissected metaphorically flayed and made raw by the seeming death of passion, a lack of someone in your bed tonight, and the slipped hand that pulled off your skin and made the feelings of the feelings that wound.
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
skinless and sensitive
You are not an object, you are a soul encapsulated in the beautiful- in a sense , the innocence you embody is heavy sent but in this world it's a countdown like eleven. . . ten. . . dissolving as you appear as an object **** your self out for the pleasure of the audience It's tragic, wreaks havoc, it's intrinsically implied the less you are true to the beauty that is you, the more your beauty is not reflected is rejected, denied
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Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
Objectifying
When the west moon tilts and goes on the wane Becomes a dying streak on your windowpane Your frenzied sleepless mind breaks in roaring lust To hammer the unyielding night into powdery dust! All else but you in slumber dwell Your rebellious thoughts burn hunger’s fuel To pry out from darkness fading treasures of night Dig them intact and bring them to light! You could buy peace and live within norms Bathe in moon’s kiss stay away from storms But a ****** madness in you wreaks havoc You nurture it, allow it to run amok! Past the ebullience of night your furies vaporize Can’t hold back the transience, stay in poet’s disguise The dawn would devour it for transform you it must To conventional sanity from the garb of an iconoclast!
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Duality
"Raindrops fall from the sky As blood drips from my eyes The ground rips and resists As I cut open my wrists Sunlight fails to shine Darkness becomes my shrine Fire shoots up in the air As my soul I declare This demon from hell to take The anger I can't take cold fingers of darkness reach for my hand As lightening wreaks havoc across the land Evil courses through my veins My heart pounding as it strains Now that I've told you what I've become It's more true to you than some If you try to save me from this fate."
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May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
Evil