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M Solav Sep 2018
We were mixed up when it built;
One another forced to coexist.
As it drew us high and higher still,
Below us grew the abyss.

Overflowing with ecstasy,
We left our hearts astray.
The obnubilating and obsolete
Had gotten our way.

Obstacles vanished one by one,
Increasingly slaying the beast.
Moments we thought we'd won
Are when we'd won the least.

We stretched out our hands towards the sky
Like wretched ghosts wrapped in disguise,
As though we had just found a new paradise
With the devil ahead leading as our guide.

We followed him throughout the land:
"This way leads us to the great fountain",
And now we're stuck in a desert of sand
Wondering when oases shall be attained.

We've taken a bet against our nature.
Was it anyone-in-particular's fault?
"For every curse there'll be a cure,
For every flood there'll be a drought."

Once more, again, we shall repeat,
To morrow, and for ever more.
When the sunshine now seems to greet
And when the darkness falls,

Comes that nighttime of our lives;
We ponder what we've been,
But what we're we supposed to be
When the pact was always sealed.

So we wait in such anxiety,
The impatience growing itchy;
And we amass, tall in piles,
To crash onto the shores like the sea.
Written in August 2016.
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
It's easy to say I love you when you are face to face.
It's easy to say I love you when you are inside someone.
It's easy to say I love you when they are caring for you.
It's easy to say I love you when the butterflies are in your
stomach and every waking moment is consumed with one another.

But it's not easy to say I love you when they want nothing to do with you.
It's not easy to say I love you when you know they don't love you.
It's not easy to say I love you when it's been a consistent battle to
remain friends.
It's not easy to say I love you when you always choose guys who
make you feel less than you are.
It's not easy to say I love you when I have been waiting four years for
you to feel anything for me.
And it certainly is not easy to say I love you when there is an ocean
separating the two of us.

I don't love you because I need you, I need you because I love you.
Love is not a feeling, or an emotional connection, or an opportunity not to be alone.
Love is dedication, a choice to knit your heart and soul to another because
nobody else can compare to the joy, peace, affection, and trustworthiness that you have.

So I love you. I love you. I love you.
You may never read this, but it's the deepest part of my love for you.
//On her//
This was my first ever poem, written in December of 2015.
Umi Aug 2018
Tell your tale to the wind,
Be scattered across the sky, sing without ever being rewarded,
The falling of the leafs may be a sign of change, a warning of colder times crossing your path in this loitering darkness which takes over,
Allure is the thought of hope guiding, leading, escorting you through the misery of your own conscious, out to a far more pleasant world.
Wretched, you fight on as it slowly slips away, loses its strengh,
It is heartbreaking to watch them trying to get back, not flinching despite their wounds and scars they carry from the river of time,
Stained in crimson at last the flower petals of the falling season, reflect upon death repeatedly, with each one falling the soil cries out.
Take a dance with me in this distorted somber dark there is nothing to be sad about, the fate to be forgotten is the fate of every face, one day,
They wither over like the roses during autumn, fall from grace alike the petals of the sunflowers when their time to leave for the next generation has come, or alike the dandelions scattering their seeds,
But most importantly, is to not forget that whilst existing you can make a change, for yourself, for the better, for others,
Maybe you are their light their flower of a spring dream.
Even if humans continue to live wretchedly,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.

~ Umi
Don't cross the border of the conscious too early, fall when the time to wither has come.
CK Baker Dec 2016
The napalan man in a violet cape  
descended the stair with a lopsided gait
a wretched procession, subscribers in cue
rattling off as they stream from the pew  

sounds and smells from a shadowy place
a catholic priest to gin up base
lanterns strung from bolted doors
cobbled streets and wooden floors  

stepping stones and iron bell
fortified by the citadel
hallowed halls and sepulcher
dragon cane for the horse drawn tour

castle turret,  archer holes
centaur scribed in chamber bowls
garden columns in courtyard view
the blood ballet and hullabaloo  

ancient tombs on warrior grounds
gods and saints who made their rounds
goliath still with battered scythe
knelt in prayer and mummified  

battle fires and crowds that roar
gallows, caves, abysmal war  
gargoyles flock the terraced *****
pearly gates to bring on hope  

serpents, snakes and burning ash
lava bombs and trident clash
mariners drift in absentee
as neptune rises from the Tyrrhenian Sea
Drunk lovers writing songs on stages of upset,
Corners of rooms filled with fools, kissing whispers of sweet melody
Wretched beings cast aside, stare from afar at their scenes of lust
Drunk lovers writing songs on stages of upset,
Look upon those wretched beings standing deaf to your melody
Richard Barnes Jul 2018
I live in the light of a purple sun,
waters deep,
oceans black,
hurricanes  glow red with their own light.

Hell’s madness rules with no mercy in sight.  

Wretched souls rise with the tide  

then swallowed whole by the purple sun’s light    

The soul cry for peace but receive only carnage and hate.

What god approves this madness?  

Greatness born and dies in filth and mud. 

No honor to the dead and the living becomes a disease.
CK Baker Sep 2018
there’s a network
of vigilance
around the guarded
causeway
of walla walla
the stacked cinders
smoking rails
(and weezers)
leave nothing
but black hood
fate

gray halls
and razor scrawls
mark the hellion crust
abandoned overtures
and dead fill
cloud the horror
and retribution
of this hell hole

bloaters and skin heads
(with wretched memoirs)
shout incessantly
from the
second floor
adolphus greely
reading over the
rights of nantucket
and banging his head
on the bent
steel bars

pockets pinched
and tumblers
dangling,
the stone walls
soften...
a seminal moment
crosses the roo house
as mother mary
and the good
painted warrior
loosen a
finely tuned grip
Bad Luck Jun 2013
“You know, son… There’s a reason...
God had a reason to give you broad shoulders --
It’s so you could carry this load… It’s so you could hold up all these boulders.”

“But these boulders aren’t my own, so why did He leave me them to hold?”
I can hardly hold them now… surely I’ll collapse when I grow old.”


“You can’t think in terms of time, it is not a restriction by which He is bound…
Instead you must think it as your cross, think of the thorns upon his crown.
He will not notice the time; that’s a human concept we’ve created…
Instead he’ll judge you by the size of the burdens with which you’re weighted.”

“Well, that’s a relief, but how can you be so sure?
He’s never turned the night to day; I’ve never seen a disease he’s cured.
Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I struggle to have faith
When the world that he created has become this wretched place.”


“I can’t convince you that he’s real, I can’t show you how to feel.
But if I showed you cold and silence, would you say that they were real?
Yet these aren’t real things, simply the absence of others…
So you must look to the voids, when you wish to discover.”

“I hope that you’re right. I hope he’s up there listening…
I hope there’s golden gates I can admire, I hope that they’re still glistening.
I hope God can take my hand, and tell me ‘Son, you’ve done well.’

I hope to God there’s a heaven – ‘cause I’ve been living in hell.
"Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction" is now available on Amazon in paperback!

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Jack Jenkins Jun 2016
"Hey, how are you you doing?"

"I'm doing okay..."

I'm okay because I cannot describe all the different ways I'm feeling apathetic.
And I give you that smile that hides all the hairline fractures in my heart.

Every wonderful longing is swallowed alive,
I'm transcending my emotional capacity to live and love.
All my cheer is shallow and without substance,
Naught more than a cooked marshmallow:
Sweet and crisp without any nourishment.

My wretched self allows me to suffer thus.
Isolated when never alone,
Alone when in true love,
Irreversibly broken,
Choking on my frozen dust.
//On anxiety//
King Panda Aug 2017
I am common.
seemingly feminine
but shoulders strong
as barbed-wire.
like a chicken I am  
underdeveloped—my wings
weak and unable to
lift me into the air.
I am preoccupied
in self-identified war
with the 875 square foot
apartment and the pasta
that refuses to boil.
on my knees, I
crawl
reconciling rhyme
and reason for
suffering.
the world has gone awry,
I say to myself on an
afternoon bike ride
through wooded
pain, my face
a perfect plane for
scathing branches.
quick and easy blood
am I.
wretched and astonishing
is the rhetoric I
find in the hollow of
my rib.
I am common
but not so when
written by hand.
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.
karin naude Apr 2013
my mistress she calls to take her spot light again
last night she danced wild round the fire
taunting me with her well chosen lovers
dress that shimmers with each movement
flowing locks onto her *****
my so ****** mistress teases me mercilessly

at last the fire burned down
she turned to her quarters
lying on her bed
her body reflecting the moons soft light
she whispers sweet nothings in to me
pleasure fills me
my wife angered by this, does she know?
she was once my chosen love
still dripping of promise but cold and cruel as Siberia
she does not care for me, never have
refuses to release me
my mistress my only release from this wretched place
Rushil Dec 2018
I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she tells me it is my destiny,
and it is all in the email she sent me.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she possesses many Riches,
and she has promised me all of them.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
from her wretched uncle,
who will steal her wealth and lock her away.

I would save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
but she only needs my Government ID,
Bank Account and Social Security.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2016
May the Angel of sadness recline on your shoulder
The face betrayed grow larger and ever bolder
The pain of age creep into your bones
While the ghost that haunts you
Sing her sorrowful song

Casting anguish and silver star dust into angry winds
Let that paid for in blood begin
No path to follow
No sanctuary in which to hide
In the desperate stillness of the night

It shall be as the as the dark words were spoken
The curse of life
The gift of hatred
The token

May the Angel of regret wear now the wedding band
The cold demon of revenge caress your wretched hand
These gifts are given deliberately with spite
It awaits you
The desperate stillness of the night

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby  2/25/2016
Ormond May 2015
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'

Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'

Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                           
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,

Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'

Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
King Lear is a tragedy by William Shakespeare in which the titular character descends into madness after disposing of his estate between two of his three daughters based on their flattery, bringing tragic consequences for all. Based on the legend of Leir of Britain, a mythological pre-Roman Celtic king.
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