A Letter to No OneThe clock ticked against silence,
Upon the cemetery of a room.
Deep sighs weave through the air,
Meager warmth in compressed despair.
Moths fall prey to a musty lampshade,
An opened window to Night’s gloom.
Thoughts dance like ripples on water,
And clouds on the hiding moon.
A lullaby plays from the gentle sound,
Made by scratching pen on paper.
One story told too many times,
Is voiced from words created.
Though this time revived from lies,
A phoenix forms the ugly truth.
The pen rolls from the wooden desk,
Having served its final use.
Old dusty dolls and teddy bears,
Watched helplessly through glassy eyes.
No star showed to twinkle hope,
Not one ray from the busy moon.
On the clock’s tick, a rope was hanging.
On the clock’s tock, a form was thrashing.
A tired, hoarse throat gasps for life,
Cut abruptly by the Reaper’s scythe.
Poems on the shelf with an unknown author.
Paintings on the wall left unsigned.
Just another heart trapped in horror,
An unfinished l
The Last Lie of SummerQuiet days, the overcast sky keepsThe Last Lie of Summer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to itself, ignoring the living for weeks
at a time.
From half a state away-
you could hear trains roll through
towns like mine.
There is peace
and it can't be trusted
given to the first
This was the calm before the calm.
The man that is seen, but
"Tomorrow I will say hello to him."
But we are all too busy dressing healed wounds.
Will You Marry MeYour face is smoothWill You Marry Me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the edge of a freshly wiped blade
Your skin is warm
like teardrops in a steel morgue
Your hands are soft
like linen sheets over pale, cool remains
Your hair falls to your shoulders
with the accuracy of a weighty noose
Your stride is as confident
as a blood-spattered Gladiator
Your legs send my heart
into a state of hysteria with an assassin's efficiency
Never have I wanted so badly
something so fearsome
Now tell me, my darling,
Untouched BooksDirty fingerprints crust the pagesUntouched Books2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Of the books of forgotten lore
That have laid here before all ages
Untouched from before-
Unconcerned with reason or rhyme,
Longing for those finger-shaped prints,
They have waited all this time,
To be imprinted with darkened tints
But all that meets them is the chilly air,
And the quiet whispers of phantoms past;
And still they wait with silent flair,
To be marked with fingers again at last
Non-Existent SanityThey said that the doctors were wrongNon-Existent Sanity2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
So they locked me inside a cage
They wanted to keep an eye on me
So they made sure I was on a leash
They said they were my saviour
But I said that they were wrong
I said that I’m not mental
But they said I was wrong
My neighbour was tortured by these people
But is too scared to do anything about it
For these scientists are the monsters
That they claim us to be
They say that I am nearing insanity
But nothing can be proved
Without running loads of experiments
They plan to dissect me to pieces
So they can find a cure to my problems
Cause they think I have a non-existing sanity
How much longer will it take
Just to find an escape from this prison
These people say they’re trying to help us
But they’re just killing us off one by one
I’ve gotten a new neighbour a while ago
Cause my last one died in pain
I hear the screams of horror every single day
They say that no-one is going to get us out
Since they will not release us until
CruxI’m only sure of two things:Crux2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I still carry pieces of your cross on my back and
lilies were your favorite flower
Those last three months-
A silent drive home from the mall
purse full of stolen makeup
Dinners with my family where no one
bothered to make the conversion
Endless hours spent looking at paint samples
and I was smart to not buy the brushes
The line at the liquor store blended
with the lines on the road
At the same time with you
Then it was summer and you talked me into a country drive. We stopped on the side of the road to watch a cow giving birth in the center of a pasture. But, the calf never rose to its wobbly legs or felt the heat of the Indian summer….it never tasted dandelions.
The mother stood by the calf’s body
long past nightfall
and I stood by yours
long after that
Was this what we meant when we said forever?
ForeclosureWhere are they now?Foreclosure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
emerald city slums,
dirt in the sky.
The child fell off his bike and
skinned his knee. He cried when
I tried to help him up. Ants carried
his blood away. We don't need
that kind of pride.
A woman in Pasadena sold a slice
of toast with F.D.R.'s face on it.
I thought it looked more like you
standing in the rain.
We were asked to recreate the Gospels and
you suggested Michael Bay.
Some things never change.
Columbus found America,
the same way Descartes found existence,
the same way my brother found bourbon
the same way a horse finds religion.
It was always there so
just be careful with it.
We're all afraid of snakes.
The SilentThe SilentThe Silent1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We are the hurt
and the silent
We are the few who observe
From the corner where we sit
Forgotten by the people
Who’s lives throw them
Into social beings
We remain silent
Hoping one day in selfishness
That someone will break their trance
And speak to the silent who refuse
We hope one day
Someone will long to tear
Down our walls
That have kept us silent
But we will not let our walls
For these walls are our treasure
And keep us safe to whom may hurt us
But we will keep it down
For who we care
But don’t be mistaken
For our walls are not to oppress
But to protect
To keep us silent from violence
And judging eyes who mock
We are the silent
Constantly neglected by society
For we don’t follow their
Clueless moulds of who we must be
So we remain silent
Beating against the waves
Who long to tear us down
We are not the weak
But the strong
We are the ones whose bones
Handle the pain we keep inside
For we have no
Always DefeatedI just run; faster than the wind. I can't stay. I won't.Always Defeated2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All of this hurts
To remain standing, when all I am, is torn down.
Can you hear my screams?
Or just the silence
As I take a step into the unknown, will you hold my hand? Will you ever believe in me?
I keep trying but, all those words spoken, make me want to cry; to give up and to let go of all I know.
And you know the pain never stops. It's like a never ending empty void, which is sucking me in and I wonder when this will be done.
Will I be the one who won?
Or will I be the loser everyone knows me to be?
The Last DetentionI've spent too many years sittingThe Last Detention3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the back of a classroom.
We see thousands of chalkboard faces
in the evening haze of rush hour traffic.
The nicest days of the year always happen
when our Teachers give us detention.
We can't be trusted to punish ourselves.
Grab a stick of chalk and begin.
100 times- I will not cheat on my husband.
100 times- I will not miss my nephew's soccer game so I can drink alone.
100 times- I will not leave smaller tips for the older, less attractive waitresses.
100 times- I will finally get the courage to kiss her tonight.
100 times- I will tell him it is over if he hits me again.
100 times- I will not be weak.
100 times- I will notice the sky today.
100 times- I will invite the widow in 5A to Christmas Dinner.
100 times- I will call my sister.
100 times- I will learn the difference between what is worth fighting for and what isn't.
100 times- I will ask my co worker how he is doing and actually care.
100 times- I will do more than just get by.
What if there
Killing Fields-For HumanityKilling Fields3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's after the fact.
White tail deer-
Winter fields that
stretch an inch more
than tomorrow's pain.
And there's no way to know
just how far that really is.
(Thank you for that)
I've tried to walk across
the hard emptiness.
In the middle, there is a
column. It holds up the sky.
This is where the line is drawn.
I always stop there. Maybe it's
only a tree but I find myself
further troubled with every sunset.
Today I found a book filled with pictures and interviews of Cambodian land mine victims.
Men. Women. Children. People. Children.
The most beautiful woman I have ever seen only had half of her face.
A seven year old boy with no legs still tried to play soccer with the other kids.
I'm going to that field tonight.
I'm going to carve their names in that tree.
I'm going to keep walking until I'm not afraid.
SinThey say:Sin2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Angels are ice and the demons are fire;
But why must we hate what we desire?
The burning, the yearning, the dark things we all crave;
They say, ‘do not give in if you want to be saved.’
Want not, freeze your lust, quell our wrath if you can
If not you will ruin the very name of man.
Be pure, be innocent, repress that dark flame
Or hell shall rise up and chaos will reign.
But perhaps, just perhaps, the angels are the liars,
Telling us it’s better to freeze
Than to burn in a fire.
Autumnal InsomniaIt's an Autumn night. The cold comes cuttingAutumnal Insomnia2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Across the seas and the Isle is in winter's for-pang.
I am still at my desk in sweats and fevers, pacing
Over long due essays and the morning's march.
The space on the wall is screaming at me
From where the picture hanged upon the arch
Above the study door. My phone has not rang
In days. In no way could you call me free.
Is it late or early or both? I cannot see
Past the window's blank abyss and I delve
Into another long since read book and look to find
The clock is already far past twelve.
The creaking grows with roaring zephyrs
Of night-breath, the gate creaks in torment
And the dark and twisted line of the tree
Seems horrifying to me.
I close the curtain and shut the door
And pick my book up from off of the floor.
I look and see the clock is now past three
And it matter not in the least to me
And I pray to the Man of Galilee.
Lead-lined eyes and a slurring soul
And the hours awake take their toll
And I fall asleep.
Broken Hearts Still BeatingThe lightning-spliced sky illuminates my bedroomBroken Hearts Still Beating2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I'm crouched in the corner, embraced by the dark,
thinking of how there could have been a chance
for me to wake up next to you, your emerald eyes
webbed with emotion, your body limp
from jerking in your sleep. I imagine ruffled sheets,
broken lamps, and permeating heat.
I think of how we could have jogged together
along roadsides and doubled over with thorns
in our ribs at your feeble attempts to whistle Dixie.
I'm collapsing inward, reminiscing on the truths
I should have told you and how every boy I pass
has your face, your dark brown hair, your lips.
And I cry. Oh, do I cry.
I saw you hunched over one day, exhausted
from nightmares, sipping Gatorade and reciting
poetry about there being beauty in decay,
and I couldn't help but think that you
were living proof of that phenomenon.
I wanted to cry for you and tell you about that time
a lady ran into me at Barnes & Noble and I'd had
no earthly idea that I was alive until she turned ar
What if?If life as we know it ended today, would you fall to your knees and begin to pray?What if?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Or try and make amends for sins of before, and hope it will lead you to heavens door.
Or would you act like you don't want to know, and hope it's all just a show?
Would you hold your love ones tight, or do something crazy on the last night?
But if it's going to end today, do you even have time to say,
Sorry for all your wrongs, or just tell them what you thought all along.
Even the ones who believed it was true, will be shocked that it actually came through.
So in the end there's not much to say, it's the end of the world.
Have a nice day.
Opium MindednessIt's ok to pretend.Opium Mindedness3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I like to color outside
of my skin and ruin
other people's drawings.
It's ok reader.
If I get a little blue
in their sun and
make it "go" green
they can always just
take their crayons and
turn to the next page.
Did I just break the fourth wall?
I was taking you somewhere.
Luckily, this can be fixed.
It is by the request of the author that only those with extensive knowledge of drywall and/or masonry read further into this poem.
It's ok to pretend.
Some people, right now,
are pretending to be
Some people think
they can fix crumbling walls.
Some people are pretending
that fate is actively interfering
in their worthlessly significant lives.
I know for a fact that Fate dropped out of junior college and is working two dead end jobs to afford diapers for his twin girls. Meanwhile, Fate's girlfriend, Bianca, is lying on the floor experiencing the effects of a heroin overdose. Although
ChrysalisThese stammering heartbeatsChrysalis2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
felt in stuttering airways,
where butterflies came out as words of love;
caught harshly within your net,
subduing and possessing.
My innocence was shucked,
my freedom spread and pinned to paper
before lips devoured me
with passions normally concealed
with words left, and felt,
within each humid stretch of silence.
With each cocooned metamorphosis,
you kept me confined warmly
stationary wings loved, still;
It is as my heart,
which loves until beat silent
and silent I wish I was,
instead of loving and living
within seeds of carefully tended
because words unspoken die
just as softly.
ArtArt.Art2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The world is your canvas.
Society is your paint brush.
The people are your choice of colours.
What kind of picture would you paint?
How would it differ from the image that is currently on show?
Would you go mad and rid yourself from all forms of restraint?
Just how far down the rabbit hole are you willing to go?
I ask because every portrait I create,
Is inspired by what is already in front of me.
So is it possible to even recreate,
Anything that the mind is not able to see.
The picture will always be the same
Because this life is all we know.
Where there is compassion there must be pain
Because it us who made it so.
Square the CircleShall this poem be worth your time,Square the Circle2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Know this now, I’m not in my prime.
Etching thoughts in streams of air,
Breathing in the cause of despair.
One line written and then erased,
The product is surely to be left unpraised.
Words crossed out again and again,
Heard this pen scream, “When will this begin!”
As soft as silk and as rapid as water,
Yet its flow is like earth, maybe harder.
Wonder if birds also tire to sing,
Lose their voices to taunts beguiling?
Chaos stands with well-earned respect,
Minds ravaged to deal in retrospect.
Madness turned to Turmoil’s good friend,
Heaving insanity to uncoil and unbend.
From a hollow void this poem was formed,
With intricacy and detail it was not adorned.
Yet for every piece the soul is torn,
A greater poet, artist, is born.
Mind.Darkness surrounds me,Mind.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shadows surround you.
The present threatens me,
as the past did to you.
Your memories, you keep at bay,
but your thoughts just seem to fade away.
Your murdurous thirst is always there
and you seem to be grabbing at your hair.
My thoughts aren't right
my head's too tight,
I have to fight
just not take flight.
I want it to end
I want it to end
Please will somebody help me then?
It's not to late
Never to late
say it'll be alright
but we know it's not alright.
Because of your past,
you will certainly fade last.
You will not find a friend in this world.
We are not one
but one and the same.
Our minds have turned against us.
Me and My ShadowMe and my shadow,Me and My Shadow4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
We have always been together since I was born.
Me and my shadow,
Always ends up making me feel forlorn.
Many tell me that I'm nice,
But my shadow tells me that I'm full of vice.
Many tell me that I'm helpful,
But my shadow tells me I'm miserable.
Many tell me that I'm full of kindness,
But my shadow tells me that I'm full of selfishness.
Many tell me that I'm religious,
But my shadow tells me that I'm vicious.
Many tell me that I'm full of light,
But my shadow tells me that I'm full of pride.
Many tell me that I come from heaven,
But my shadow tells me I'm just a heathen.
Now I have an angel by my side,
That always reminds me of my light,
But my shadow's always with me,
Even while I sleep.
My shadow is always reminding me of my past,
That seems to always last.
That's why I never want to leave my angel's side,
That's why I never want to say good bye.
My shadow always reminds me of my past and present's grave sins,
But my angel always reminds me of my past and present's
SufferingI'm the high school girl who sits alone at lunch.Suffering3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I'm the boy who's teased for not taking a punch.
I'm the nerd who's only friends are her books.
Because the words they say about her stick like hooks.
I'm the homeless old man who ignores the peoples glares.
I'm the little boy who cries because he thinks nobody cares.
I'm the freak who tries so hard to act like she can blend.
But she knows she'll never really be accepted in the end.
I'm the orphan boy who is left week after week.
I'm the girl who's so depressed that she chooses not to speak.
I'm the grad student who's life has been so rough.
Yet he's finding that still his earnings aren't enough.
I'm the girl who sobs in her closet every night.
I'm the girl who's too tired to put up a decent fight.
I'm the guy who thinks that he should end his life,
So his parents have a chance to get over all their strife.
I'm the mom who wonders if her kids are doing fine.
I'm the man who competes because his job is on the line.
I'm the thirteen year
When History UnwritesSeated upon a dank white wall,When History Unwrites2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No gold or diamond ornates its throne.
Staring all day at the same blank space,
Worlds apart from where it was first brought forth.
Strangers come and delight in awe,
Like loyal subjects frozen in place.
But while given the praise befitting a king,
Its thoughts are those of a peasant ignored.
For before it was priced with things of limit,
And carefully passed from hand to hand.
It was no more than its own cold throne,
Soiled and battered and worth no coin.
Its royalty was the dust of a room,
Spectators were but a passing mouse.
Back when glory meant a thin ray of light,
And the loveliest tune the patters of rain.
But as days passed in the forgotten room,
The corners screamed and not of hope.
An invisible clock ticked and tocked,
Prolonging an end to a story with none.
Pages flipped like a book that’s hollow,
Reality turned into a big cruel joke.
One wish was voiced for every night,
All curtains closed on this lonely plight.
But as the play lived on
So What Do I Do?If only I could read your mindSo What Do I Do?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If only I could interpret you emotions
Understand what you're going through
See through your eyes
Hear through your ears
Feel through your heart
If only I knew how to help you
But I can't
And I don't
And it's killing me
So what do I do?
DriveIt was going to be last night.Drive3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Instead, I drove until sunrise and
had breakfast at a truck stop diner.
I spent the day, lost in a nature reserve
on the frayed edges of a small town.
I made myself forget its name and,
somehow, I found my way back home.
I once told you that the world
would become a better place.
I intend to keep that promise.