AnswersI don't write poetry.Answers4 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
I just let the pen
Across crumbled pages.
I let my soul
Bleed into ink.
As my way of asking
Statues and glowing
But They never answer.
What a Wonderful WorldI’m noticing thingsWhat a Wonderful World1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I didn’t before;
Things that I
Just can’t ignore.
Kids getting shot
For the colour of their skin,
Loving being treated
As though it’s a sin.
Sexism running like blood
Through the veins of the media,
Kids killing kids
In High School Hysteria.
People dying instead of
Being who they are,
Children getting shot down
As they reach for the stars.
Faith forming the target
For society’s arrow,
You’re either in too deep
Or you’re way too shallow.
The faithful using the Prince of Peace
To excuse their hatred,
And yelling ‘terrorist!’
At the followers of Mohammed.
Women walking the streets at night
With fear in their hearts,
Men being told to ‘man up’
When their soul is in parts.
Children starving to death
In the land of plenty,
Bigots with medieval views
In the twentieth century.
we used to fly togetheri've got a good memory,we used to fly together5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
but i was surprised to find the box;
full of our scribbled conversations
and protestations (no, that's not right)
declarations, no, dreams
of what the future might look like.
we were young, vibrant, and
beautiful (and inseparable, once)
and we thought we knew how to
take hold of the future.
for my part, i struggled with
age as if i had a chance of winning;
our battles were the talk of the town.
you, you took to the passing of time
with an eagerness that showed
just how ready you were
to put away
the notions of childhood.
i've got a good memory,
but it's easy to be selective,
pick and choose the moments
that i want to relive.
we were foolish, confident
(and oh, so alive)
and we fell into our roles
with a predictability
that is near miraculous
i doomed myself to the role of
the forever-child, always looking back,
always dreaming of the carefree days.
you quickly ran out of adventures,
and set about finding new myst
21 Years OldSo I was just a child21 Years Old5 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And they said that this was ‘just a phase’
That lasted 20 years
And 364 days
Tomorrow will I switch
From an adolescence damaged mess
To a mature adult
Able to cope with all of this stress?
Or will I just remain
Embedded in my concrete routine
That’s waiting to be smashed
By my sledgehammer wielding dreams
Give me the key to the door
I will turn the knob fast
Clockwise to see the future
Back again to remain in the past
So I was just a child
And they said that this was just a phase
Melatonin helped me sleep
Right through this melancholic haze
But tomorrow I will wake
From an adolescent slumber
Shake off the shackles
That have only served to encumber
My free spirit, free will
And most importantly my feel mind
With a lifetime of whispers
My voice has been difficult to find
But I’ll take the key in hand
Clear my throat as I toss it away
Smash the door from the hinges
Now you’ll listen to what I have to say
Empty But Alivebreathing you in, octoberEmpty But Alive1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
i taste the numbing agents
even on the very surface
of your conspiracy, this
prepping of the patient
this unworking of the earth
sealing it as-is
hardening the sites
of future graves, forced shallow
not harvesting, just weakening
arranging late-year stacks
of blurry panic, while disabling
the defensive response
so much decline to wage
before the winter kills
october knows i'm a fool
for the dark underbreath
of its dead open air
the howl of the breeze
through its night fields, empty
but alive, and so very not empty
its rhythm of silence
between barks and calls
stalls my heart mid-beat
i used to pray for its engines
to restart, before it hit ground
but now i realize
that there is no floor
to this dream
and no bottom to this fall
To The Boys Who Died In Their SleepTo The Boys Who Died In Their SleepTo The Boys Who Died In Their Sleep2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
c(h)ords s n
cadence in codas
lives into over
on the other
and time folds like old laundry
fade into two endpoints
like closed lines
this is ad nauseum
not ad infinitum
My Personal PreferenceI don’t careMy Personal Preference1 day ago in Free Verse More Like This
For pretty hearts
I like the ones
That are scarred
And taped together
Because those are the ones
Who have been through Hell
And have the courage
To keep beating
hummingbirds only fly in the sun hummingbird girl,hummingbirds only fly in the sun6 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are the sunlight twinkling
in my eyes. a letter addressed
to no one ended up on nobody's
doorstep, dancing around odysseus
and his iliad. the gods whisper
in your ears at night, lending you
their words to paint onto brittle
parchment. you are a mystery
cloaked in fragments and fabricated
wings, the taste of the universe
on my tongue. if i could unlock
the cage i would set you free,
but my nimble fingers aren't good
for anything except tying knots
in heartstrings that aren't my own.
ten.why don't we sit underten.1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
the hangmans noose;
for a bit.
watch the crows hustle around
frayed ropes, and listen to the
wind rustle dirt's
there's a cool breeze coming
almost too cold, its...
so let's just walk away and seek the
under these charcoal
[its a comforting feeling to have life, and
death in your control. ]
dextrorotatory doxologiesI once was a heavenly body, I think.dextrorotatory doxologies5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
A sharp crystal in the veins of God.
I swam about in bliss fluid
and rambled all truths
in new shades of deep blush
as he brusquely introduced me
to others more potent
I felt myself nearing the heart of all matter
and panicked, lodged painfully
in vein, dangerously ingrained
instead of ascertaining that
the truth of self is not held
And as I ventured slowly closer
I posed but one query:
"Tell me, what power
do you have
to spare me?"
song birds only sing when it rainsmy little mouse,song birds only sing when it rains1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
tell me- do you
like the sand underneath your feet,
the ocean waters with it's
calming push and pull attitude
guiding you this way and that
with a loving hand.
do you curl beneath covers
during snow storms, listening to
the wind howl, knocking against windows-
against your hands, small and much
like glass themselves.
you are peace, harmony in small storms,
a soothing melody in quiet voice to
anyone willing to listen to
a quiet voice hidden in a tiny statue,
eyes always seeking, always hidden.
sometimes, I'm a fireI like myself best huddledsometimes, I'm a fire4 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
between broken thought and sky,
when the sun stretches just tall enough
to ignite my hair in embers.
I pretend it makes me lions,
and that I can roar and smile, all teeth
and bones and not afraid of anyone…
but a glimpse of my reflection, and
I scramble under covers.
And sometimes when I shine a
flashlight down my throat, that’s all
I see: corrupted caverns and the ghosts
of pills burning through my vocals…
but I spat them out six months ago,
and I’ll be damned if I give in
so much again… but more than that:
I never wanted to be someone
defined by narrow features—
blue eyes too full of war and ice,
an explosion of acne scars and freckles,
which darken embarrassingly
in sunlight—but I’m just a cloudy day,
a quilt of third-degree sunburns and overly
hidden—safety—while I curse my mother’s
read-head genes, and the eyes of fasting men.
One thing I can say about them:
to the amber girl with the ember eyesyou seem to be a beautifulto the amber girl with the ember eyes6 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
missed mess melancholy map
of roads that teenagers wish
they could drive down, they could
roll down their windows and
let the buffeting wind take your words
out of their mouths
(what im trying to say here is
that you get it, you get what
we are and what we want to be
and what we wish we weren't)
that lighter fluid you bleed is
just enough to set me ablaze with
to get these awkward moments
into a beautiful skin, and you have
perfected the art.
you are art, in itself, you are
a piece of someone's heart
and like the amber ember
i see you as, you spark
a tiny revolution in me.
origamithe lines she draws in meorigami5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
are like creases
I was once a crumpled ball
or flock of cranes
We will sit awhiledrink up the evening, dear heartWe will sit awhile2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
leaves dancing down the street
and dreamers wandering home
hints of a lust for life
linger on the tongue
long after the night grows cold
we crave like the young
Heart Of DecemberYou will feel againHeart Of December4 days ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
heart of December faded
under a cruel sun
a thought as thin as vapor
over my morning tea
The Value of WorkYour art is beautiful, unique, horrid, terrible...The Value of Work4 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
What does it take to dignify value?
The ability of my mind to comprehend
Peoples creations through the lens of my own.
We can all demote or praise works made by the people
But where does this process come from?
A line on a portrait capturing the essence of simplicity
Or the detailed work of a landscape setting
Why do we put so much effort into finding the value?
Materialistic in nature
Maybe this is the wrong thing to say
Perhaps anything I say is false.
So then, I shall ask again
Social MediaShe turns on the TV today,Social Media5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just like any other day,
To be brainwashed yet again.
Flashing into her mind of images
That are portrayed as 'beautiful',
Whether it's big cheek bones,
Tiny waists, large breasts,
Perfect teeth, tan skin, etc.
She'll never love herself.
He turns on his laptop today,
Just like any other day,
To be brainwashed more and more.
Flashing into his mind of images
That are considered 'perfect',
Whether it's to be very tall,
Pale skin, big eyes, muscular,
Blonde hair, perfect teeth, etc.
He'll never love himself.
She walks into a tanning salon today,
A plastic surgeon's office tomorrow,
Starve herself and pay fortunes for body modifications,
So her society will love her.
He walks into a hair salon today,
A plastic surgeon's office tomorrow,
Strain his body and pay fortunes for body modifications,
So his society will love him.
consumption of caudal vertebraei.consumption of caudal vertebrae5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
to my friends
the world glows on
and the simple things
like fresh cut lawns
and palm fronds
but you know
that i am not the shine
i couldn't maintain
of our temporal flux
and my trust
wasn't pure enough
i was purely flustered
at the thought that i,
lowercase, worthless i,
could be I
constricted, and my finger
filled with deceit,
and for the first time in years
i set it aside
now i comprehend
of the asp
i'd sleep forever
just to feel your venom
gripping my veins
i would rather
non sequitura repackaging of past flings and future pacingnon sequitur1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
into mass screams and andalusian interfacing.
sand and soot commiserating,
invading my senses and contact lenses
and bed nails scraping
through my best defenses.
burned completely into ashes,
all actions and aspirations
spark-spurned. flashing up
and hearkened to dark words
sharp churned by once bright hearts.
turns out glass is quite hard to swallow.
My Traitor HeartWhy do I feel safeMy Traitor Heart3 days ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
When held by my enemy
But not my own kin?
ConfessionDegrading of both body and mind,Confession2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
Degrading of both yours and mine.
Twisting, breaking, slowly sinking
Is the spirit snared inside.
Stuck in its rift.
No mortal drug is quite as strong,
No moral fall is quite as long.
Hidden in labels, formed of no dust
As we were, but formed of lust.
Somewhere behind them,
Sometime behind him,
Someone he once was,
Someplace he once stood,
Now lays a wasteland,
Now lays a man.
His spirit is sprawled out
On a toxic waste dump.
So now he crumbles,
So now he isn't.
So now a chasm's seen,
So here in front of him.
Shattered, sleepy windows.
Nothing but lust remains,
And dust from which his desert is formed.
Fallen in that chasm, deep,
As Mary Jane could never carve.
Trapped in the Mist.
Winds of Death,
Mule in the MirrorOld Mule is giving,Mule in the Mirror3 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
advice to himself.
Be kind to yourself,
be your own best friend.
Go out on a date
get to know yourself.
You'll be together
right up to the end.
So you might as well
be the best of friends!
[a spark from AzureNebulae ]