DementiaDementiaDementia3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
You there, in the corner
Dark eyed phantom, maniacal sweetheart,
Trumping in my head like a frantic hammer.
The squall, echoing in my ripping soul,
Vibrating in my lungs in a whole new laughter.
I see you as you are,
But you've been told otherwise,
Yet my eyes can see the shadows in yours,
the child that once was, lost in the agony,
of a tomorrow you think would never be.
You're still smiling at me,
exhuming the warmth of a blissful memory,
I want you to be free again, blessed again
And enjoy the bright path leading you,
To the moment your existence brightens this rotting world.
Despite the heaviness of your past, you still walk tall and brave,
Admiration from my heart to yours,
Forever will remain,
Because real giants are those whose who will always grin,
And you are one of them, my friend.
That madness in you mind is strength,
That softness in your pupils is life,
You there, in the corner,
With your disturbed, prodigious smile
And intriguing, perfect dementia.
Crying Over NothingCrying over that nothing.Crying Over Nothing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When it used to mean everything.
Hateing what I did and said.
And the hate is starting to spread.
I am always sad and depressed.
And everyday my heart dies a little more in my chest.
I cry over it so much.
And I can't even take my own touch.
Because I hate myself for letting go of my everything.
But now, it's like crying over nothing.
UntiltedListen close,Untilted5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Can you hear it?
That faint sound,
Of shattering glass.
It's breaking apart,
It might just be my heart.
Get the tape,
Grab the glue.
We can fix this,
Maybe, just maybe.
Take a deep breathe,
Get it under control.
It's not the end,
Get it together.
The dawn is coming,
A new day is here.
Hold your breathe,
And take a flying leap.
FeelingsSadness is the smile that doesn't reach my eyes.Feelings5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Is the tears I try to hold back day by day.
Is the secrets I repress from the public.
Is the feelings that I try to keep locked away so no one can hurt them again.
Sadness is when I've just had enough.
When I feel hatred in my heart.
When I want to give up.
When I hide my sadness from every one, even my own parents.
Your happiness is probably when you see me so torn up over this.
Is probably when you think about my reactions.
When you probably when you see through my happy mask.
My old happiness was when we were all friends.
When we hung out all the time.
Told joke that only our friends got.
When we talked about all the stuff we hated and liked.
My new happiness is when I think of all that I do have.
When I talk to my real friends about my problems and they help.
When I hang out with friends.
When my family supports me.
What I've found inside myself is not a new person, but a new out look on life.
I've found new cou
StrangerI have that feeling.Stranger5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The one you get when you get in the shower,
when the water is so hot it's cold.
It's washing across my skin,
Almost as if it's turning me into stone.
I'm thinking those thoughts,
The kind you don't want just anybody to hear.
But they seem to be slipping out from my lips.
My words have these syllables and pitches.
Why am I telling them to you?
Your the last person I want to know,
But I feel more comfortable with that,
I like how you can worry and let me know.
Yet, I don't know you.
So it doesn't bother me at all.
Sometimes I like telling a stranger my story
Look where it has taken me,
But now I'm with you...
I'm afraid if you leave me,
I'll be left breaking.
That will be the end of my story.
AloneCold and sharpAlone4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My thoughts pierce my head
Ruthless and relentless
Voices of the dead
Dead friendships and bonds
Broken and gone
In the new dawn
Feelings and emotions
Turned to dark
Love and care
Faded to black
Cold and forgotten
I sit in on my own
Crushed and tearful
And all alone
Am I beautiful?God, do you think I'm beautiful?Am I beautiful?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Do you see how I hide behind baggy clothes?
Do you see how I put make up on to attempt to make myself feel beautiful?
Do you see how every time I look in the mirror I look away immediately?
Do you see how I blow off every comment stating that I'm pretty?
Do you see how I feel like I'm not worth it?
Do you see how I don't think I'm beautiful?
Do you see my longing to be looked at?
Do you see my jealousy to the girls on magazines?
Do you see my insecurity?
Do you see my empty heart?
Do you see my tears?
Do you see me wanting to be more?
Do you see me trying anything to get it?
Do you see me when I try to be like everyone else?
Do you see me when I fail?
Do you see that I want to feel beautiful?
Do you see that I'm tired of hiding behind a mask?
Do you see that I just want to be set free?
Do you see that I'm giving this up to you?
Because God, I really want to know..
Do You think I'm beautiful?
Listen, O daughter, consider and give ear;
Struggling at LifeStruggling at Life:Struggling at Life3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We're reaching out for stars
In the depths of the night.
We're struggling at bars
Shut away from the light!
I've seen the way we act
When we are fighting for our lives.
But we're killing all our brothers
On the point of our knives.
I've seen the violence
Spewing from the poorest of peaks.
We are the rats, caged up
In the darkness we seek-
A little path, a little home;
Just a place to call our own.
Everything we ever tried
Try to win before I die.
Hopeless, lost; shot from the skies
I am the martyr, burned for the sin of their lies.
I am the people, screaming for the justice be served
I am the sound that you hear; cause I give you the nerve!
You gotta rise up, stride up, ready to go,
And I will tell you how to do this from your head to your toe.
Don't let anybody tell you that you ain't what you're worth,
Every child born, we are the soul of the earth.
Now look upon the world and see the morning sun rise,
You stare into the light, there's the heat in your eyes
If I Die YoungIf I die young,If I Die Young5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
take out my worn down,
with the love letters
to my angel
sapphire and crimson ink.
Give my journals to my mother,
so she can see
the inside of my mind,
for a few hours,
and know that
I adored her.
Let my dog,
sleep on my bed
to make up for all the times
I never let him in.
Give my daddy
all my cameras and memory cards
to let him see
all the times I wished
that he was there.
Send my grandmother
everything I ever wrote
fine point Sharpie
to show her that
I still think about Grandpa
Then tell God,
or whoever put me here,
that I'm sorry
for not giving Him
a second chance.
I ll be...I´ll be your keeper.I ll be...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your night guardian.
I´ll keep you from bad thoughts,
and kiss your dreams to make them better.
I´ll be your wings, when you dare to fly.
I´ll be your rope, if you fall.
I´ll be your hope, if you are about to give up,
or your map, if you feel lost.
I´ll be your keeper.
Your every-moment guardian.
ShaplessLove is painful.Shapless5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
A painful stinging mist.
Built up to destroy the
Love is dark.
Lost in the deepest depths
of a lonely, cold, bleeding
Love is just this.
Simply becauseI feel so down so depressed,..Simply because4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Or maybe I'm just stressed.
No, I don't think that's it...
Because it feels like I'm trapped in a pit.
It's dark down here,
I can't help feel alone and shed more then a tear.
I can't get out,
no matter how much I want to shout.
I won't ask for help,
because then I'll feel like a little whelp.
Who can't take care of herself...
No matter how much I *want* to move
I can't, like a rag doll on a shelve
I'm dying to escape,
trying to crawl out,
but I need help, need a hand.
Anyone to come along and understand,
to take my worries away,
and always stay.
To hold me close,
and never let go.
But I won't ask for it.
I'll put on a show.
Pretend I don't care,
to keep to myself and not share.
I wouldn't dare.
I'll hide inside myself because if I give in,
it'll feel like a sin.
To tell other what I really think,
to tell everyone how alone I really feel.
How long has it been since I started to sink?
I've always avoded the questions like an eel.
I've been slipp
I Am A TransmanI Am A Transman3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I tuck and I bind,
I pack and I grind,
But still somehow
I cannot find
The man inside
He wants out,
Let him free!
But he knows what you
Expect him to be
So I try to exceed
What you think of me
And make you change
How your thinking sees
Just a girl with small boobs
and a sock in her pants
But that's not me
You're just in a trance
Society's made you
Feel what they feel
And think what they think
Until it's not real
To hope that someday
You'll be who you need
Who you want
Who you feel
You really should be.
So I write this story
In hopes you'll find
That I'm still me
Whether I bind
Or hold my head high
Or look like a man
Because I look past it;
I know that I can.
Socially awkwardDo you know what it feels like?Socially awkward2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel so socially awkward
around people that you feel
uncomfortable in your own skin,
knowing that you don't fit in.
And, you walk away...
thinking that being alone
will be better for you -
but you're wrong.
You just feel even more alone;
even more rejected from society;
perhaps even sad, in some way.
What do you do while waiting for someone?
As you wait, and wait, and wait for them -
hoping they'll come soon
lest you seem like a loner
walking aimlessly around,
causing people to pity you.
And your face gets hot,
you start to sweat because
they know -
they know of how alone you are
and they feel sorry for you.
Endless FlamesThere is a fireEndless Flames5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
inside of me.
It aims straight
for my heart.
Yet no one
hears a sound.
I have yet to put it out.
There is a fire inside of me.
You started it.
Underneath the Weeping WillowI want to sleep.Underneath the Weeping Willow5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when I am old and bruised and tired
and dead to the world around me
I will fly to Greece.
And when I am there
I'll start walking
I'll walk through cities and drag myself
until eventually I reach
somewhere for me
and nowhere for everybody else.
I'll sleep there so soundly,
day after day,
until the ground rots
and the mountains die.
I'll live in my own moment
and leave 'yesterday' behind me.
I wake and I'm happy again.
Lonely But Not Alone...It saddens me to knowLonely But Not Alone...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that you don't talk to me no more
It turns my heart to stone
each time you left me alone
how did it end this way?
can't you please stay...?
I don't wanna lose you
not before I die too
I didn't believe you'd do this
rip my heart to bits
I didn't believe you'd do this
'cause I was so masochist
I'm a fucking coward
for my happiness won't last an hour
I hide in self-pity
for my scars are too filthy
If you hear my sobs in the night
remember for you I'd fight
You had me at the palm of your hand
yet, alone, you made me stand
The light in your eyes
have riddled my cries
the light in your eyes
turned yourself to a lie
Not one person can take your place
yet anyone knows your disgrace
They all have a presence
yet only yours I can sense
I've made myself blind
leaving only YOU in my mind
BlackMy dreams are colorless.Black5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
They are filled it endless tunnels
Shadows of lost souls,
of pain and hatred.
Waiting to kill again.
To hurt ME again.
My dreams are colorless.
Why is that?
They Told UsThey Told Us:They Told Us3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They told us we weren't artists,
They said that we're just puttin' words on paper...
They told us we wouldn't make it,
Because language isn't unique...
Ta hell with them all I say,
Because I know tha truth they seek ta hide.
We're treated like third-rate artists.
Our hands can't create magical pictures,
We can't create comics ta make people laugh,
Or emotive portraits ta make em cry...
But what they don't see is tha title,
What they don't see is tha description,
They don't even see tha comments or replies!
They look only at themselves,
And at tha talent they seem ta proclaim.
It's like starin' at an old english aristocrat,
Ignorin' us simply because we're farmers.
But what they don't see are the words.
Words used ta give a picture context.
Withou' a title, a picture is just a mix of colours and lines.
Who could understand an image, withou' a title?
If art alone suffices, why not let every piece be nameless?
I'll tell ya the truth, separated from the