Schizoid AvoidanceSchizoid AvoidanceSchizoid Avoidance11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Abandon, reject and hate me
'Cause that's all I've learned to expect
Oppressive social surrealism taunts
Leaving me dissociated and defect
Solitude and musing entice
Thus I walk earth's face loner-wise
Ecstatic pondering analyzing my mind
Introspective truths to find
Fear forcing me to escape
Guilt and shame raging inside
Craving companionship and intimacy
Yet too paranoid to confide
Keeping my precious poker-face
Because an apathetic appearance grants inner pride and grace
People call me a statue with an icy stare
Yet I snort and smirk; I simply don't care
For their ignorance...
SchizoidI am oddSchizoid4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A misunderstood individual
Discretely and secretly unstable
I am a schizoid
And i will always be isolated
Because i am unfit for friendship
Unfit for any relationship
I am a prisoner of my own personality
Bound by it
To watch the socially adequate
As they frolic and talk among themselves
I am abnormal
Therefore must pay the price
a situation in which i do not survivei was a lake whippeda situation in which i do not survive3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
into a fever pitch, a localised
hurricane in the wake of something
greater. the world was ending
and i dreamt of you while it was
still turning, a mess of bodies and
kisses. i dreamt of you still
when it ended, a slow dance
of crooked smiles and offshore
eyes. you kept me close and if
i was ever a source of happiness
for you, i could let go.
TeachTeach how to read, not what to read.Teach2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Teach how to speak, not what to say.
Teach how to love, not who to love.
Teach how to think, not what to think.
Teach how to be, not who to be.
Teach how to listen, not what to listen to.
Teach how to stand, not what to stand for.
Teach how to write, not what to write.
Teach how to admire, not what to admire.
Teach how to fight, not who to fight.
Teach how to laugh, not what to laugh at.
Teach how to question, not what to question.
Teach how to accept, not what to accept.
Teach how to succeed, not what to succeed in.
Teach how to follow, not who to follow.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
The Music Won't Let Me SleepIt jars meThe Music Won't Let Me Sleep2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from the fitful terror
of mine own heart
of my hardened soul
as my body moves
without either's permission
I let the melody's quake
keep me awake
though sleep still calls to me
in loving lyrics
I can't let myself believe
else the music may leave me
to dreadful whispers of silence,
I lose myself
amongst the veins
of dulcet flow
and elastic beats of rhythm
mimicking what I once hoped
was a living heart.
Cloaked in another body
of mellifluous hatred and love
I try to conquer my soul
my husk acting the motions
of its siege
a silent cry
with a hand reaching
for a sun seen only
by listening eyes.
I move and listen with my being
offer everything else away,
Battle in my MindEat.Battle in my Mind3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Take it easy.
Work out until you pass out.
Get help.Tell someone.
Keep it a secret. It's only for you and me.
Why won't you listen?
They don't understand.
Let me help you.
You don't understand.
I love you..
I Ami am a mechaI Am3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
of my own truth
the one deep inside truth
the one you thought you knew
the one that has to scram
the melted dark rain
the one with words of bang
the one you love to break
feeling away from you
I am safe
Suicide or Tea?Should I kill myself or have a cup of tea?Suicide or Tea?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I decide on the latter and I'm not sure why. Probably because I can. Life is a never-ending scroll of be-goods, be-happies, be-in-controls, be-okays, be-strongs and be-appreciatives. So what's another day?
Just another day closer to death.
Still, life seems incredibly long, don't you think? So long, it's hard to see the end and nearly impossible to touch even with a knife in my hand that could easily skewer my heart, make it squirm and still like a dying nightingale sealing its death with a pathetic squeal of almost-song.
Life is pain and people in pain are a pain in the ass. Perhaps occasionally or perhaps frequently, they think "Why not just kill myself? Life is hell, anyway. No hell after life could be worse than this."
But they're wrong. The worst is never the worst because things can always get worse and maybe that's why I decided to stick with the chamomile tea. That or I feel tea-sipping is reason to live.
SilenceSilence.Silence3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A language that everyone speaks.
But one that we are not able to hear.
A place where emotions and abandonment meet.
Of which we are forced to confront our buried fears.
There are no more lessons that the agents of society can teach.
An infinite amount of words expressed through a solitary tear.
People dish out advice but never practise what they preach.
A language with the same traits as a hopeful prayer.
A society where people judge others, as they sit back in their self proclaimed seats.
They can no longer understand you and they aware of the darkness that draws near.
Many lives led but we are all accompanied by the same drumbeat
Maybe you don't want to be heard but people will forcefully lend an ear.
Lips fused together, unint
WorthlessLay down, silly little boyWorthless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Close your eyes, foolish child
Did you really feel special?
Did you truly think, you were different?
Stand up, silly little toy
Open your eyes, troublesome gnat
Look into the shattered mirror
Watch the salty rain run wild
Do you see silly, little, tool?
With your hideous eyes, stupid kid
Your worth has burnt in fire
See the pathetic pile of ash?
Such a smart, silly, little brat
Such an understanding, foolish, rat
You can see your end is near
Why not speed things up;
Silly, little, boy?
Honest PsychiatristNormal, your brain is not.Honest Psychiatrist2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Take a guess at what you got.
It's needed for your medication.
Label shouldn't cause frustration.
Guess at what pill to take.
So many that they make.
Don't know about your brain.
Could make you more insane.
Effects are usually small.
You may have none at all.
We warn just so you know,
Your pain may just grow.
Your brain isn't fried.
Just another to be tried.
Patience is what I need.
I promise it isn't greed.
So here's another pill.
Maybe now you won't be ill.
SchizoidTrapped in my brain cellSchizoid8 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
i'll stay inside forever
never will i go outside
to catch a glimpse of light
Everything i want is here
but i still want more
alone in the huge crowd
i'm one of a kind
Damned for life and without parole
nothing has become my friend
i'm so used to having him around
and there isn't room for anyone
HiddenYou doubt meHidden2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cast me to the back of your thoughts
I dont want to be here
i want to be out in the open!
I want to be shared with the world!
because of the others words
you keep me hidden...
and whenever i show my face
trying to show you who you really are
you deny me
And shout those awful words
ever scaring words...
I guess i'll just stay here
waiting in the darkness until you're ready
continue to live the lie
continue to repress me
continue to deny me
I cannot fight it anymore
i cannot stop you
What is going on?
staggering and struggling01.staggering and struggling6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yesterday, i wrote
your name on a slip of paper
and folded it into an origami star.
it hangs on my bonsai tree
(little trees for big
wishes) as a just-in-case hope
for those times when it feels like
can make me
sometimes, when even stars
and little trees aren't
enough to make me happy, i cut
down the paper stars and pretend
that it is a meteorite shower in my
bedroom, but sometimes that
just makes it worse
because i realize
that shooting stars are actually
we are all just stars that have
forgotten the happy-thoughts that
made us fly,
it's just that some of us are blazing and beautiful
before we burn out. and die.
i can write disorderly words with random indents
and call it "poem", and
people will still say
they like it
because we all know
what it's like to be unhappy
and there is nothing
unhappy people like better
than making people
i can jump over my own leg and
touch my toes if i really try,
but i can't stop being ter
When You Find Me ThereHush now, old friend,When You Find Me There3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I go around the river bend
where you cannot follow
Do not despair!
when you find me there
we'll drink sweet wines
and talk of distant times
but not for long.
The people in white
will bring us new clothes,
a new skin, to wear when
we go around the next river bend.
Come now, old friend,
there are many walks to walk,
talks to talk before I go
around the river bend
where you cannot follow
When you find me there
we will walk again and
talk again and rest,
but not for long.
Soon the currents will whisk
away our legs, our voices,
and give them to us new.
There now, old friend,
sit with me a while before
I go around the river bend
where you cannot follow
I will cast off soon.
Take my hand
and hold it tight, and
remember what I have said.
This is not the end.
You'll see me again,
when you find me there, my friend.
Grandma“Is there something terribly wrong with me?”Grandma2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I sigh and look up from my book. In the evening light my grandmother stares back at me, utterly unaware that it’s the third time she’s asked in as many minutes. Complex maps of wrinkles frame her wide eyes, each crease charting the grief, joy and laughter of a lifetime she is slowly forgetting. I look at her and I remember the wit and spark that used to punctuate her speech. I remember the way she used to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere; how she’d find wonder in the simplicity of everyday life. Her curiosity, her sense of adventure, her love of the world and of all the people in it have been replaced by a child-like fear of the unfamiliar.
I look at my grandmother and behind her old, tired eyes I see a young girl who has lost hold of her mother’s hand in a world full of strangers.
“No, Grandma. There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”
curtains shift –
the faint glow
JittersMARTYJitters3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ok. This mess is called Jitters.
Teacher gave me a one-word name
On the first day of the third grade.
She labeled me with my condition
And so sparked a life-long tradition
Of insecurity and anxiety, cyclical
Critical hits dealt to my clinical tics
By cynical pricks so I set adrift
Across a rift between me and every other fucking kid I ever dared not encounter, fearing the ridicule they would pursue.
A few years later we went to the zoo.
A tarantula, gargantuan, yet trying to hide
from our view in a viewing tank
With sandy banks and small cacti
Yet we could not avert our childish eyes.
“True,” said teacher,
“You’re probably less afraid of her
than she is of you.”
Classmates nonetheless crinkled noses and said ew.
But meekly I whispered, “I’m just like you.”
Wish I were as sneaky, lord knows I’m as creepy,
people think I’m freaky, but I’m just like you.
Dad got me a baby tarantula that year.
I gave him the sam
The Artist SyndromeThis work is simply brilliant!The Artist Syndrome2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Says the artist in me.
I'll have it framed twice!
So precious it be...
Says the artist in me,
But what if people hate it?
So precious it be!
I cannot let them take it!
And what if people hate it,
And what if they hate me?
I cannot let them take it
I'll lock it away you see!
And what if they hate me?
A simple lock will not suffice!
I'll lock it away you see.
In a land of frozen ice...
"And that, my dear Mrs. Sutherland, is why I shipped my art homework to Antarctica!"
Grave RosesDon't rest roses on my grave,Grave Roses3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
trail of bouquet that you pave.
Vibrant death, ignorantly conveyed,
leading too, my buried cave.
What flowers, my love, have you brought today?
Soil in dead eyes, all to grainy.
Memory waning, soon to forget.
A bold quartet, pedals of debt.
Ah, a rose?
Don't mask your woe, we both know,
I am gone, grown so cold.
Fading marrow, in my bones.
Corpse alone, parted soul.
May I love, be so bold?
let your heart bleed,
forever sorrow, forever grieve.
Let me be.
And on my grave, let grow weeds.
Don't rest roses on my grave.
This is a six word storyThis is a six word story:This is a six word story3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I just pretend to be profound
Your parents are artistsI've been looking for the best artist in the world, someone to help me express what you make me feel...Your parents are artists10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
But my life goes like always, you know, covered of darkness and without going through something to break the monotony.
The sky color reminds me of her eyes, her deep sad eyes, her long and sensuous fingers, her warm tongue of exquisite flavor, her tenderness masquerading as loneliness and melancholy...
It becomes a great joy when falling on your psychotic world, when sink into your hugs and kisses, it becomes an immense joy.
In this way, loneliness, despair and hate lead you to madness.
A man devastated by the tragedy, that feels empty inside, disbelieved and immune to pain.
The hate blurs the feelings, annihilates the reasoning...
I sigh deeply, because I also I become a victim of your beautiful curse.
And in the sweet mornings of the world, your gaze is lost on the path that leads to my death.
That is why I walk with my head down, because that beauty is compared with you, and becau
Eyes That Watch MeEyes that watch me,Eyes That Watch Me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eyes that don't.
Eyes that follow me,
eyes that won't.
Eyes in my family and
eyes in my friends.
Eyes in nature that
never seem to end.
Eyes that watch every move I make,
every breath I take,
every word I utter and mutter and stutter.
Eyes that judge me, love me and hate me;
Eyes that fear me, loathe me, pity me;
Eyes that want to be me and curse me for existing.
But the eyes that watch me the most,
always the most critical,
are the eyes that