Depression and I are Fuck BuddiesWhen I was young I made a friend.
She was kind of quiet-
a loner, like me.
She wore a long cloak of stars and melodies
that would wrap around us both when she got close.
As we got older
we became closer-
until she was all I could see.
She gave me words of comfort,
whispered when no one was around.
And I would hold her close,
Keeping her curled up inside.
Even when she was mean,
I would forgive her.
If she made me cry,
I would hold her closer.
We are never apart for very long,
though the people around us would try
and rip us from each other’s grasp.
She would simply disappear
for hours or days or months.
And soon she would sneak in my bedroom
with her cloak of starlight and music
and hold me in a lovers’ embrace.
End of a long day.I’m tired.End of a long day.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe I should go
And lay down
Searching for you again in my dreams
It’s been too long
Since we met last
I’m chasing you
Like a shadow
Sometimes you’re there
Sometimes I’m all alone
Left out in the light
Without anything to hold on to
Doubting if this thing is really true
You’re like a wild animal
It’s impossible to tame you
You come only when you like
Stay only as long as needed
To remember me I’m still here
Bringing the breath of life back into my dusty bones
I wish you’d stay
Be on my side for all days
Because without you
I feel I’m nothing but a passing shadow
In a world of blackness.
The CageI've done it, really, done, for real!The Cage2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I cannot express how I feel.
His wretched soul, his frozen heart,
A morbid, dying, work of art.
What I did next, was not my plan.
Insanity. The fall of man.
I bound his hands and bound his arms,
I really meant, to him, no harm.
I cracked. I snapped. I lost my mind.
His soul, this...this husk, the perfect find.
I took a knife, I claimed my prize.
Gauged out both his cretinous eyes!
The screams, the screams! They were so thrilling!
I could not stop my torpid killing!
I grabbed his face, cut out his tongue!
Across the stagnant air it flung.
Walls now red in every room
I sent unto this man his doom.
I could not stop my curséd rage,
It's my burden, a small cage.
Murder your PoemMake your poem suffer,Murder your Poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it needs to know how you feel.
And if it doesn't, your poem is ignorant.
Gouge the pen deep within it, until bloody ink stains through.
Write very hard
so your poem can feel your scars.
If you crinkle the corners,
it needs to have broken tattered bones.
Feeling exhausted before your done.
Do not share or post your poem so soon,
for it needs to feel rejection.
Most important, before it dies.
Clean it's wounds, or tape its rips,
do no accept forgiveness..
As your poem dies, you'll be surprised.
Your dead withered poem,
Hold The SugarDrink your tea!Hold The Sugar2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I shouted the words
But nobody heard
Until the very end
Scared even the birds!
Give me your tea!
My fists were high,
Raised to the sky,
They just wouldn't bend
To even the lie!
I want your TEA!
People were screaming,
All lost to dreaming,
Who I'd never call friend,
All the scheming....
Just give me your tea.....
of deviantARTists and those who browseThey call us usersof deviantARTists and those who browse2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
for a reason, now let me
get my daily fix
one.i wish you knew how muchone.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a killer you made me into -
but you'll never know,
- because you're already dead.
Depression - What It Is InsideTrapped and enclosed,Depression - What It Is Inside2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It can't be exposed.
It knows all we're taught,
and contradicts every word.
We become it's biggest addict.
It has no faith.
It has no love.
It comes too late into the age,
And chokes all who feel it hang,
To evict us from our home.
Without a fault.
Without a soul.
It's nothing we should know.
Guilty of sitting alone,
Unworthy of what others deserve.
No need for fears,
No need to pretend.
Only a desire to disappear.
Don't reach for the brightest hand,
Just crawl away.
This idea of none,
To some a magicians hoax.
Without a friend for fun,
The thought will never come,
To those who never know.
It forever persists,
It will never leave.
While we can't be saved,
And with nothing to be,
At our core we're not gone.
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.Osteophilic2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The way they never asked too much of him
or protested his requests.
There was nothing superfluous in their design;
simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.
They were spry, robust
ready to take on the world with
sharp and fluid motions.
His bones were not brittle like she was.
Not so breakable or frail,
not so expendable.
They didn't bend under pressure
or fracture under stress.
He loved his bones -
their ivory purity eased his soul -
and he was proud of the way
they held everything together
She knew one day he'd stomp this
old flame out, long before 'death do us part.'
Cremation had never been part of the plan.
OrchestraFour a.m is uneasy -Orchestra1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
time purloined and left
hanging on the bed posts.
You said I crowd your sleep,
feet and hands slipping cotton,
pulling dreams in paper streams
like the nest of wasps
growing restless in the tree.
Your legs make room for me,
for the sound of weather
happening on the roof,
and warm the space above us,
setting fire to the drapes again.
Just let me feel your clavicle
press under my hips
where daylight squeezes in
and hinges us.
So we both can waken slowly,
you know, like kids in summer
who long for everything to never end
and the sky to be an orchestra
Reasons Never to WriteYou’ll want someone exotic, and marry a Romanian. He’ll tell you to dye your hair and you’ll do it, then make chewing on its multicolored strands a habit. You’ll kiss him once and say he tastes like wine. Wine, no? he’ll say with a grin. Only gentlemen drink wine. You'll leave him because you won’t like cliches.Reasons Never to Write1 year ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
You’ll find a shadow behind a counter (because that’s the only way to describe him). You’ll watch him clashing silverware around in drawers like cold piles of bones, and he’ll give you a free slice of key-lime pie and say it’s the best in the state. You’ll lick up its tanginess on the prongs of your fork and decide that it’s not, but you won't pull away from his eyes that will remind you of your favorite crayon. Then he’ll look you up and down and say, another? You’ll decide to love him because anyone worth loving is worth a free slice of key-lime pie. You’ll make him kiss you even w
AfraidIts not irrationalAfraid2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is not stupid
Everyday is a battle
For this, I'm not suited
I am tired of fighting
These feelings, these urges
It should be exciting
But against my walls of iron, it surges
I want to have someone
Without these fears
Of this life, I've begun
I had many tears
Pain, misery, and no trust
Are my only experience
My heart is covered in dust
From only a few instances
I want to be nestled
Close to a person's heart
But everyday I wrestle
I just don't want to hurt
Dying WorldWhen a young boys,Dying World2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blood does run,
In his hands,
A loaded gun.
When a young girl,
Screams for mum,
As she is pulled,
Into a van.
When the elderly,
Are targets of ridicule,
From the hooligans,
With spiteful tongues.
When the newborn,
Have no chance,
Cause our world burns,
With each new dance.
See the dusk,
Of the age of man,
Stand beside me,
Beneath burning sun.
5:17 AMand it's sad to think5:17 AM2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that if you came back
to tear me apart
i'd let you.
FlamesThere are flames whereFlames1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
his head should be -
a poem left in the fireplace,
a dressing gown, a pipe,
forty pieces of silver.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible.
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stones on the battlefield,
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
Cage of Flesh and BoneIt is a prisoner of war, my mind.Cage of Flesh and Bone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Locked up in this cage of a carcass, bashing itself against the bars of its cell.
While my very anatomy sings of a battle won.
This rebellious brain looks and listens, and likes not
the jail it finds itself held in.
The banners are the wrong colour, the trumpet's blare in the wrong key.
A clash of contradictions, and
I cannot help but wonder, in this prison of flesh and bone,
if my mind would be content to flee, and find another home?
Escape the enemy's camp, and fly back to freedom.
To a body of unification,
mind and matter as one.
Peace without conflict, and where
The solider will never return home,
because he has simply never left.
MonsterI'm the monster.Monster2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No, I don't need to hide under your bed,
inside your thoughts is good enough for me.
Only help will make me go away,
and I make sure you don't get it ever.
I come when your full of high spirits,
and push you down into a pit of despair.
Sometimes, I leave and make you
feel the cold numbness you despise.
You'd rather hurt then be numb,
and welcome me back.
Only the strong ones can shake me off,
and continue on their right path;
instead of the bad one I've created for you.
Oh bitter burning ApathyOh bitter, burningOh bitter burning Apathy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How I've missed you.
How I've missed the
Acrid bile aftertaste of
How I've missed the
Grinding of a boot-heel
On the back of my neck.
And leave me alone.
To My RapistYou killed yourself the other dayTo My Rapist2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because you were finally going to jail
for what you did to me
and countless other kids
and let me tell you
how livid that makes me.
I hate the fact that you stole
my virginity from me.
I hate that you’re not getting what
I hate that you took
the coward’s way out.
But most of all
that I didn’t get the chance
to forgive you
and for that
When I Grow UpAge Ten:When I Grow Up2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'll be a Wizard when I grow up! My magic used for Good.
I'll turn lead to gold and brew True Love, in my cabin in the wood.
I'll be a Jedi when I grow up! The force flows through my veins.
And with my saber I'll ensure that the Dark side never reigns.
I'll be a Knight when I grow up! Raise the crest on high!
Feasting in the royal halls, though the Battle's on the nigh!
I'll be a Karate-Master when I grow up! My honour proud and great.
When rival dojos challenge me, I will bravely face my fate.
I'll be a Rock Star when I grow up! My fans will jump and dance!
I'll shred some catchy licks and riffs as I wear my shiny pants!
I'll be a Cop when I grow up! No punks will give me lip!
My baton will be a-twirling, and I'll wear a pistol on my hip!
I'll be a Scientist when I grow up! I'll be Master of the atom.
I'll discover brand new elements as I dig deep wit
Murder Me With ImageryPlease write me a poem.Murder Me With Imagery4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Please, won't you please?
Paint pictures with your words.
Make me fall to my knees.
Dot your I's like bullet wounds,
As my lifeblood leaks.
Cross your T's like switch blades,
Cut my throat with ease.
Stop my breath with your metaphors,
Make my heartbeat cease.
Let the concussion of your verse,
Make me rest in peace.
Steal my soul with each pen-stroke.
It shall be your masterpiece.
The DanceWe dance a deadly waltz,The Dance2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We dance to stay alive.
Our faces hidden by elaborate masks,
Our clothes covered with fake jewels.
We do not complain, we simply move,
For those who don't are thrown aside like dolls.
Our feet sweep through the blood of the fallen,
We simply dance as to not join the mutilated bodies.
From the time we're born until the moment we die,
We're simply dancing, porcelain dolls on earths stage.
The music plays, sweet and sorrowful, slow and deadly,
As we sway and spin, twirl and swing to the tune of life.
Who we really are, we will never really know the truth,
And with painted skin and hidden emotions we simply dance.
Useless people, worn-out humans, we shall all fall,
As we dance the deadly waltz of fate to our very death.
An Artist Without Paper or a Pen.If a picture says a thousand wordsAn Artist Without Paper or a Pen.2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
how many of those are lies?
And if I could see them all
would I even mind?
I look without a hope to touch.
An artist without a canvas or a brush.
That's the difference between now and then.
An artist without paper or a pen.
If the eyes are windows to the soul
what does it mean when they're broken?
And if I could say it all
that would go unspoken.
I speak without a word to say.
An artist's landscape at different times of day.
And that's the difference between blindness and sight.
An artist without eyes, or a light.
If the pen is mightier than the sword
how many lives has the pen took?
And if I could keep score
will we need books?
I say it all without a hope to act.
An artist without a chisel or an axe.
That's the difference between hope and what comes next.
An artist without an eraser or a subject.
Unable to draw it out.
Can't even write it down.
Finding it hard to believe in
all my minds been weaving.
colony collapse disorderi know what it's likecolony collapse disorder2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to make love with
the queen -
the scent of her
coming sticky, sweet
i know what it's like
to devote my life to her image,
her beauty, her tyranny -
the commands pierce high
in her siren voice,
fat sloth sleeping on a
creaking stone pedestal,
she condescends, descends
to call me promiscuous
in a rising shrill
that boils over the hive -
and i am bilious with rage.
she told me once,
"you cannot poison the dead
of heart and mind" -
but you can poison corrupt bodies
by slipping pollution
into the vomitous, saccharine honey
they pour in their coffee
and spread on their toast.
i wonder how long until
the queen is dead.