Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)
A lavatory confinement
If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so called kind has no class,
Fed by these political rejects, never elected for what was!
They wipe their assets clean with our dreams
Forgetting to wipe their own toilet seats clean
Trying to make us feel dirtier than scat
Feeding off our paper when their toilet bowl water level is low
Toilet bowl PO-poes, wiping without dental floss
Missing everything in between reality
Trying to be kind, saying "One Day We'll Be Good Enough!"
Offering their Golden Plunger,
straight from the Home Depot shelves
No Thank You! My plunger a true gift from Mr. Wal-Mart himself
Next time you feel the need to offer a reference point
Please caption your name when you drop by,
Rinse thoroughly when speaking my name,
Then I will listen when you talk civilized
Correct my punctuations and spelling errors
The weakest trait you wear
You are no Prophet, just white tissue turning brown
Your Justification comes from old dry grapes falling from the vines
Ridicule will never give you the respect, for what you are!
We, the few poets from the hood,
overpower any change you offer Goodwill
Crumbling and flushing what does not meet your standards
Trying hard to force feed us soup, without giving us bibs
Toilet Bowl Committee
For clogging up my drain with your bull$h!T
By: Keeping it Real (The Downtown Hood)
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
Unexpectedly the timid sun made an appearance
an orb of flames silent amidst the peaceful horizon
wistfully the harmony was short lived
ferocious winds blew with merciless tones
melancholic rain returning with little remorse
inclement storms battering emotions
brutally defeating them to oblivion
raindrops soaked like predatory demons
in conjunction with bloodthirsty winds
lost within the abyss of anguish and pain
seeking shelter from vicious venomous daggers
I stumbled upon the marketplace of sorrow
surrounded by souls lost to a religion of perturbation
ambushed I remained, impatiently in this downpour degradation
counting down the days of disturbing December deterioration
6 December 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
You can't break something - already broken
Can't heal something - that can't be healed
Can't love something - not worthy to be loved
Can't fear something - that does not exist
Can't murder something - already deceased
How can you live - when you fail to exist
How can you see - when your eyes are ignorant
How does your heart beat - when it is plastic
How can you listen - when you hear no sound
Why do you speak - when your words confuse
Why do you cry - when your tears are artificial
Why do you follow -when you don't know the destination
Why do you hide - when the truth will set you free
Why do you not ask - when the answers will save you
Walls hide so many secrets..... If only they could speak
The Silent One
2 December 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
You ripped me
One word at a time
Shredded my smile
Pulled at my sensitivity
I was never strong enough
To pull back my paper heart
You took the pieces of me
Arranged them in your perfect order
I prayed for the wind to come
Hoping I would be carried away
Flutter to a new more loving home
Instead, I endured your paper cuts
I became your paper mâché
Shaped into the image of you
Glued with your inconsistancies
Coated in your endless smoke
Sarcasm and beer
I marinated in your endless tears
You painted me with a retarded label
Your stupid failure of a son
Forced to endure that brush
It was with your eyes I learned to see
Everyone else was better than me
I was a failure times three
My inside empty
I became light as air
As time went on I ceased to care
It happend slowly you weren't aware
Until one day I floated past your stare
No longer raw and bare
I clawed and ripped
Rewrote my page
coming of age
Not your puppet on a stage
Contorted by your rage
I have lost you to your death
The air much clearer, still I feel your breath
Within my doubts your lies still hide
Yet within me a new strength resides
Your image of me no longer applies
Doubt and fear reduced in size
No longer your "DUMMY"
On faith I rise
For Charlotte's contest, heart and soul confessional.
Written, September 1st 2014.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
Please don't tell me how to feel
Allow me my sorrow
Let me cry for just a while
My heart needs to feel it's broken
I do not desire to be the strong one
Answers may never come
Still there is comfort in my silence
I reach into a place you cannot see
You are blinded by your knowing
Your strength can be a weakness
Blocking anothers compassion
I am not seeking answers to questions
Please allow me to be
Let me cry for a bit longer
Within my broken
I allow God to fill the spaces
I trust Him with the answers
He whispers within my solitude
There is a strange comfort in not knowing
I cry for my friend
I feel his loss
The devastation of not knowing
The fear of the approaching battle
I wish to listen
Act if required
Cheer for him
Celebrate his spirit
Hold his hand
Live in his moment
I will not
I promise not
To tell him how to feel
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
No flame within!
do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
shall I put to rhyme.
No picturesque words
in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
the ancient mariner, he
that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”
(Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
reduced to microcosm.
How can one live in awe of
you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
giving license to the veil
of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?
(An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)
Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
“Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.
Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
nothing at all to give.
“Unless death itself is a gift!”
Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
that harbour the weary,
support the rod.
Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!
© Harry J Horsman
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006
I have been put in my place many times
Told how to talk
What to think
How I need to look a certain way
Be the way I'm suppose to be
Expectations to be met
I could never be me
That place that almost drove me insane
I kept being placed there
Over and over again
Yet I had no choice but to be true to myself
I couldn't be someone else's book
Placed on a shelf, in a perfect row, not standing out
No one knowing what I'm about
I ripped out the pages
Inserted my own
Scribbled on the cover
Added my own colors
My pages screamed to be read
Hoping others would hear what I said
As time went on
I often changed my design
Desperately trying to know myself
Unsure what I would find
Never really fitting in
Confused by what I found within
Hard to know where I belong
Listening to notes from others songs
Was my way of thinking right
In a distance I could see a glimmer of light
I dreamed my dreams
I craved the light
Then one day
All the pieces clicked
I fell into place
Joy accompanied by a certain grace
Comfortable with me
I live in the moment
I can just be
I am free
I know my place
Dedicated to my Friend Armand who knows
his place and helps others discover their place.
You my friend are a true original Happy Birthday!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013
Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind,
we're not straining, we're not struggling,
we're not sinking, we're just fine.
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried,
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time.
Do you want me all the ways that I am?
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand.
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand,
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand.
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind,
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine.
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep.
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires,
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire.
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin,
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in.
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same,
pleading and begging for more than just a saying,
but to feel and to see that im not alone,
with being in this love thats overwhelming.
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark,
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark.
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire.
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or,
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out,
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out,
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close,
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go,
why these tears are building up behind my eyes,
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires
and it desires to be your wife.
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true,
tell my my dearest what I mean to you,
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
The sting of shattered trust
fills his veins with toxic spite,
contaminating his heart.
He finds solace in a bottle,
quenching his resentment,
slurring forth caustic fumes;
nauseating his liver.
Until he spits her treachery up
with a sickening heave,
in the shallow, murky gutter
of a jaded man's reprieve.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
She swept the side effects of yesterday
Into an unknown place where
Longing transcends the ache
Of remembered years that cling
To wounds that never heal.
The haunting specter of childhood ghosts
Lost in some nostalgic fantasy
Sift sad shadows from the past;
Unwilling to release the pain
That surrounds her days and nights
With the relentless intensity
Of memories that will not fade.
Perhaps time is ready to embrace
The ceaseless repetition of all
The yesterdays, todays and tomorrows
Bringing reality to a new transition;
So the shutters of her mind closed
And in her darkness she found release.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Lying silently on my bed, eyes open wide.
Watching as darkness moves in like a heavy fog.
My breathing seems to echo against the cold walls
And my heart beats rapidly as I’m plagued with thought.
Prayer like questions, if I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take, will he take me?
Instantly thoughts go to grandma, surely she’s there,
Surely her open arms will be there to greet me.
Harbouring such thoughts bring to me a peaceful smile.
I start counting all the loved ones I will soon see.
I count them as others count sheep in darkest night
They have become like soft comfort blankets to me
They make my nights less scary, should it be my time.
Soon my weary body gives way to pure darkness
I slip into a place of total nothingness
Time stands still and now I am neither here nor there
I am nowhere, floating helplessly forever
Then far off I see a light shining so brightly
Now I feel once more as my aching body hurts
I moan and roll toward the window lit with sun
Realization sinks in, I’ve made it……one more night.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Anthony Slausen’s Contest:
Near Death Experience
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
heart beat expectancy
to heightened degree
it would come
It MUST come
for the message
"There must be a mistake!
How could he just vanish
disappear into thin air
and not care
No, there must be
Perhaps he was sick
perhaps he was dying
and he didn't want her to know
wanted to spare her the pain
all sorts of crazy thoughts
keep her awake at night
as she waited
for that message
The months passed
the pain grew and didn't subside
it didn't grow dull
nor did it recede
it did bleed...
though her eyes it tore
down her cheeks it bore
it could not be
where was the message???
a second chance
revival of romance
for that message
waited because her faith in him
refused to be shattered
by the calendar mockery
day and month debauchery
Yet...each new morning brought hope
steeped in the belief
of his chivalry
for the one whom she knew
could not be the one untrue
cruel and heartless enough
to have to taken her for a fool
she grew heart old
and soul weary
dead on her feet dreary
as she waited for a message
that never came
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
My mind is not at peace with the world
an unhealed wound constantly violated
by horrific memories that won't leave
strange voices are driving me insane
feeling deranged with paranoid thoughts
my soul is in a dark place with no spirit
emotionally drained - love is destitute
physically weak - living but feeling dead
existing like a cowardly wounded animal
PTSD - combat fatigue, disorder, neurosis
so many different names but no antidote
no cure - the medication doesn't dull the pain
my body is a cage to my fractured brain
forever stuck in that traumatic moment
unable to move past - an eternal nightmare
struggling to acclimatise back to a social life
drugs and alcohol cannot kill the ghosts
slowly dragging others with me into despair
run far away from me - my days are numbered
contemplating an end - painting it black
The Silent One
11 November 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
I balance on a tightrope. Surrounded by
lovers and dreamers, I teeter above a raging sea.
I admire their glossy smiles and envy
their bright-eyed confidence; envy is a sin, I know.
Please forgive me; a lie would carry more guilt.
The waves crash in dark shades of gray, still they smile.
Their laughter from all around pierces the thin air.
I teeter alone; I may or may not fall.
My fate is undetermined, in my own hands;
the tragedy today may be tomorrow's comedy.
Their laughter echoes...
On a day like today, the fresh tears sting.
If only I could wake from the nightmare,
pry open the windows of my tortured soul.
If only I could charm the feral...if only.
Oh, the skeletal monsters we are bequeathed!
Yes, I understand the meaning of loyalty.
A fool believes the wicked will fall.
A fool believes the merciless will change.
Can a hollow chest develop a beating heart?
I chisel stone walls, searching for a glimmer of hope,
a flicker of humanity behind steel beams.
Could you spare a token of remorse?
I dare to drop a coin in a fountain of wishes.
A pocketful of coins jingle as my wishes sink
to the bottom of the venomous waters.
I am patient as I teeter on the tightrope.
The audience cheers taking pleasure in my pain.
Blood pulsates through my veins, yet I feel cold winds
penetrate my soul. I refuse to cower or
live in contention...
Blood is thicker than ink.
I find my balance in the written word, a gift of life!
Words sometimes spill from a bleeding heart.
I beseech the ghosts of the past to end their haunting.
Their breath is the frigid wind. I find shelter...
Tempered is the skin of the wounded. Who knows
what may lie beneath the flesh. In the mirror,
you may find a frightened child in need of love.
Most find the strength to balance and stand.
Every step brings me closer to solid ground...
I am reaching for you. Please take my hand.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
she sits on roofs,
he on benches
fingers touch sky,
feet on ground
she savors fruits
straight from trees
he works hard
to get fruits of labor
leading separate lives
but bound by fate's thread
...feelings from childhood
could be the purest
dormant yet breathing...
she still touches skies,
he sits on benches still
as time moves on...
***just felt like posting something,
an old poem of mine written November of 2010
Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2012
Maybe this can't be saved.
One more short year and I'll never see her again. I'll always be wondering about
her but it's better left that way. Never been able to face the truth. Even now.
We were all each other needed, some childish indestructable duo of sorts. All
Sometimes it's my fault. I've been a cliche since prom night when she came over
and apologised and suddenly she was perfection. After that I hardly spoke
around her in case I stuttered or worse, couldn't make her laugh. Was I in love? If
I was I still am. This intolerable inferiority complex, this petrified fear of not being
good enough feels all too familiar.
Don't think there was one moment when it all happened, but now I find myself
smiling arduously in black armour; all that she made me once again
undermined. I called her my mermaid; sunny skin, the beach in her hair and eyes
shining with all the colours and tempers of the ocean.
Now she's hacked away every detail of her. Barely recognisable, even to the one
who used to know her best.
There's a girl I still know, dancing through my memories, but already clinging to
herself, desperate to remain. She knows she can't stay forever.
We're not the people we were; this can never work.
Today I'm hiding behind a calm and carefree front; she can never know, nor
understand why. I'm blocking her out.
Out of sight, out of mind
No explanation. We were dying anyway.
But if she asks why I can't see her anymore
How can I even look her in the face?
If that's selfish then at last it's my turn.
I miss her even when we're locked in embrace. Affection is genuine. All else is
lost. She can't save us, can't put in the effort. I've tried but I'm weak. Another
excuse to take cover under.
I can't change her back. Why am I trying? I should just make the most of my
precious friend now.
A little more of her slips away every day.
Copyright © Sarah Jones | Year Posted 2006
Oh sky look down on this earth of gray,
Something dreadful on the horizon looms.
There is no black and no white today,
Laws exist but justice is doomed.
Morality is labeled religion,
And must be separated from state,
Whose own religion is political correctness
And determining God's fate.
Oh heaven rain down on us,
Ae are tasting your tears.
Yes we've become that bad,
Confirming your fears,
That what has been done ,
Is being done again,
Those lessons taught,
Coming to naught.
Judges and laws make it legal,
To be rid of your innocent babes,
Under a symbol of the eagle,
God's loving justice betrayed.
Racheal you cry the tears,
That now only heaven supplies,
Because ours have dried,
In the dust of our alibies.
Excuses and lies are linked,
As you and I know well,
The truth is all but extinct.
Truth is foreign to hell.
Oh heaven, look down on this world of gray.
Something dreadful is watching and looms.
Is there nothing left but to watch and pray,
While Rachael wails by the dumpster tombs?
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2009
I may not always write about you,
About the way your energy,
Caresses my spine,
And sends jolts of electrity,
Racing through my body,
Exploding each cell like fireworks.
I may not write about,
The way my dreams at night,
Fill with you and I dancing,
Heat bashing our skin,
Filling us with an unquencable need,
Touch beconing a new meaning.
I may not write about,
The way your eyes stare into mine,
Past the years I have seen,
And into the soul that I am,
Spirit colliding with spirt,
Melting together like Iron to form a sword.
I may not write about,
A love that we experience,
Through star strewed skies,
And blood soaked ground,
That causes even the fearful sight,
Of bombs exploding to look beautiful.
I may not write about you and I,
How I fill up your soul and your mind,
With thoughts and words and images,
That melt and form new words,
Your lovely muse who so beguiles you,
With a double bladed sword.
But Darling, don't let your heart,
Get away from itself,
Don't let your heart take the fall.
The wound I cause shall soon heal,
And you will read words,
Of another man, dancing with me,
Of another man, touching my soul,
His finger tips brushing the sides,
Of my breasts, his lips trailing down my neck,
Whispering with the heat of hells fires,
All that could be between, his and mine.
You will read lines that speak,
Of a sensual romance,
Pools and puddles of lust between thighs,
And an ancient sweetness,
That rivals Greek Ambrosia.
It is no fault of your own,
You have fallen and I have shown you,
The sharp dagger of my love.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2014
I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid
swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts
Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity
Be better,love more, hold on.
Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die
Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
As our world spins into this blatant madness
Family units like dead leaves, fading fast!
Our children lost, good values tossed
Idols abound, keeps us in a choke!
Excesses, extreme shape our lives
The Golden Rule, now a corny joke!
A simple guide to can heal our earth-disregarded
Yet, in spite of all these,
God will have the final say
When wars and storms sweep across our earth
Leaders ignore the hour at hand
Perhaps, the last to stand as men
To right the wrongs of history past
And re enact laws to seal the cracks!
Potent winds arising, already on track
Remember, love for man and nature will heal this earth
Yes, I believe, in spite of all these,
My God will have the final say
So let the politicians, argue, fight and scheme
Let the liars, deceivers, play their games!”
Let death merchants chant their evil anthem
“It’s not a child, but a piece of flesh”!
While the years like pages torn from a book
All blowing away like dust in the wind
Gone forever beyond eternity's veil!
'Too simplistic', some claim, that love's the remedy
Yet, in spite of all these, I will fear no end, for
My God will have the final say!
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010
Place parsed pennies, purposely upon pretty porcelain palms.
The wanderer, restrained her raised ranting wrists!
She fell to her Humpty Dumpty position,
unable to ever be put back together again...
Each of us witnessed her fall,
yet we failed to gather those colourful leaves.
I believe we could have laid them at the base of her wall.
She sees the trees as he increases her diseases.
Deepening predatory penetrations as he pleases!
Cracking, fracking, hating, taking, and breaking.
Bringing about disappearing, as pain stains, her shamed awakening!
If we could have, would we have, mournfully watched?
Or instead, would we have held her wrists,
pulled at reddened panties, excruciated her sufferings?
Instead, we placated horrific tugged observations,
waited, pretended to see nothing,
drank our mocha-chino from starry cups!
we sat and licked our lips to the calming sound of muzak,
preferring voyeuristic aristocracy.
Oh how she cursed his kissing and biting,
the sucking of her Texan black gold!
All the while he praised her caged loins,
filling a billion barrels with her oil...
Until the time her flame set fire to his cursed wanting!
Until she summoned the winds from the east.
It was time to birth the spawn of his treachery.
Lava poured forth from mountainess risings!
He must suckle upon her displeasure,
until like creosol, his noxious presence,
combines with his own wasted wood.
Thus preserving his monumental failures,
encasing them within layers of his strangled death!
A voice called out from the West, "Where is the foolish man?
Who is left to sing about his great accomplishments?
His peculiar monuments have been laid to waste,
not a single brick remains in it's place."
No one is left to excavate the woeful forgotten.
She "Mother" seeps into the soil to reclaim his blood,
her womb is once again fertile.
She asks "Do we wish to begin again?"
The start of a great pause stings her ears!
She looks and understands,
"It is no longer good!"
I thought I would work with the devices starting with A.
whether I place or not, I would appreciate your feedback. I am not an educated poet, so when it comes to poetic devices I am like a teen groping in the dark.
Written December 29th, 2015
Original word pairing
For me Poetry is food for the mind, sometimes it is an appetizer to whet the appetite, or it can be full course meal that takes a while to digest. Other times it can be a sweet desert that tantalizes the senses. I hope this piece offers some mental engagement and nourishment.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
Slice me with your tongue,
Razor blade wounds,
To suck out all my poisens,
Sweet lonely lullaby,
Accusing eyes of sadism,
Picture perfect prodegy,
My Deadly Sin,
A bitter taste of arson,
Burning in my vital organ,
Your the pyre that burns away my mortality,
A sip of tea made from Lilly of the Valley,
A shadow of Death stalking,
With odd angel like wings,
A Numbing kiss like Drowning in Morphine,
Sweet arms to rest in till my vision no longer holds,
Eyes neither like Hell nor Heaven,
That Drip of Drugs into your system,
Intoxicated blood stream,
I'd rather not dream,
And instead get lost within - Your paralysing,
Your Paralysing, Brain lapse,
Your moving too fast,
Stay slow and dreamy,
Like a burning forest fire,
Pain throughout my veins,
Ravishing and Beautiful,
A voice torn from my throat,
With my last sight of you. . .
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
Meditating on flowers of my pasture, plucked with my eyes,
Resting…open, like buds blooming, and resting…
“Take me…” he said weakly, so softly in my ear…
I greeted the demon with the warmth in my eyes,
Upon opening them to its crippled form before me,
It was shivering, shackled, face caved in, razor teeth broken
All night I had heard his screaming, his pains, and his revitalizing hurt
As the Devil crouched near,
His hands clenched in the blood of his minion...
He turned his head grimacing,
Shrewdly interested in the exchange
The sad, sniveling creature touched my hand and squeezed it,
His breathing more hoarse and heavy
Bloodied tears and muck falling upon me liberally
“Do not be afraid of the light,
As your brothers hide cries shuffling in their fight,
The touch of deliverance is often strewn with thorns,
And to the onlookers, the dominants, scorned…
Rest your weary head upon my shoulders,
For there I shall sooth your devastating tremors,
Your rough skin upon the softness of sympathy,
Your eyes burning in the pains of my empathy…
Rest on this day from the indulgences you have absorbed,
From the faces of the damned, the bruised, the abhorred,
His antagonism over your life has weakened your will,
Bleeding hearts still beat, as his stubborn mind goes still…
The Sabbath day shines against the garish evil,
To reveal the good that remains in the slaves of suffering…”
Our Prince spat the ground in fury,
Cracking his neck from left to right
“The Sabbath day, resting in lies, rankled in syrupy mess,
Believing is deceiving all this feral trash we call friends,
His happiness upon a time that mocks all those who stray,
Those who dare to bash the head of a pompous, polished day
May I shove each heart into the rash-spent furies of my consternation,
To rest assured, all that the day soon brings is the madness of insanity’s ascension
Never was there one as sickening, as the one who stabs us in foolish hope,
Into nothings who can never attain joy, who only scramble to appease…and mope…”
My eyes, which were so focused on the miserable demon,
Who had finally fallen asleep in my arms,
Color returning to his acquiescent form,
Averted once again to the demoralizing Devil, with severe pain and with severe love
“The sleeper, the slave, his submissive energy you crave,
Though you do not think you deserve the ease of his save,
Rest is in your ability to submit,
Not to prove, or prevalently profit,
Merely to observe where happiness must grow,
The heart recalls the blessings beyond what we think we know…”
And to that, he sang with me, tension and rawness in his bravado…
“We in this realm shall cultivate each other,
In the strange company of one another,
To sing desperately with passions unrest,
So that in separate ways we may perceive our test
This demon sleeps in the arms of love,
It knows not the smiles and cares from above,
Let us be challengers for challenge’s sake,
In secret endeavors, this art supreme we make
Drifting darkness will always subsist and applause,
One who struggles to yield, for the relief of this pause…”
Singing on, he crushed my voice with the deep recesses of his own -
“A war awaits as long as these duets fail to defy…
As long as my meaning is subjective to your flair…”
His dark eyes, like black trenches, impasses of despair
Stayed irrepressibly open, staring into my motionless soul
I breathe…to stay alive . . .
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
I never talk to you as much as I should
Just to say thank you for all of your gifts
I take for granted all that you’ve given to me
Sometimes blaming you for all I have missed
And when you come to me I shy away
Feigning I can’t see you or hear you
But no matter where I look you’re around me
In every vivid color and shape of movement
You voice beckoning in all the worldly sounds
I even try to hide myself away from you
Still you find me wherever I go without effort
Cruel and hard or ignorant and fleeting
I’ve been both and you lovingly embrace me
Cursing you at the losses washed upon me
Your hand generously gives without prejudice
Gluttonously taking much more than my fill
When I look back you’ve again filled my cup
All the mistakes I have made and will make
Many of them knowingly and willingly
Still you offer all of your forgiveness
If only I will ask as a son should his father
I’ve broken so many of your rules a multitude of times
Deceiving myself believing you wouldn’t notice
Still you offer me everything you have
When I lay in the dark at night and examine
I hope and fear you and I doubt and pray
I hope you can hear me through all the other voices
Although I fear you don’t listen to me anymore
I force myself to doubt your existence
Knowing the truth unwilling to admit to it
I pray…Dear God…Can you hear me?
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006
You are the smell before rain
You are the blood in my veins
I need to get you out of my system,
bleed it out by the blade
You are an incurable disease
You are the cancer consuming me
I need to get you out of my head,
but I can only lie on my death bed
You are the ghost of my reminiscing
You are the piece that is missing
I need to come to terms inside
Perhaps we'll cross paths in the next life
Copyright © Ranice Roo | Year Posted 2014
By the roadside sat two men
One a soldier the other poet
One a warrior among men
The other a warrior of pen
One sculpted by war
The other, horrors of the soul
Each had fought a war
For their souls
One had killed in jungles cold
The other in pages cold
Each to save their soul
These warriors of old
Sat by that road
Where it got clammy and cold
Each in their own thoughts
Each recounting days old
When their souls were lost
One to the gun
The other to the pen
But don't think the poet
A lesser man
For as a boy he became a man
The pages were real death
Forced to kill those ugly men
Who took his soul
It was just a dynamite stick
And the fuse went boom!!
No more turns
Being passed around like a cigarette
By those men
There was just no more
Cigarette smoke breath
And don't think the soldier
They were just orders
They were just children
The enemy must learn
Here we mean business
So the two warriors
Sat side by side
And stared blankly
Across the cold clammy road
And in the distance
A storm cloud formed
Then sudden thunder
Each warrior ducked
Copyright © Marugu Mo | Year Posted 2016
The Ink Bottle sits, alone,
It’s only Companions,
The Feathered Pen,
The Paper Pad.
The Desk, once alive,
But wanting not,
A Wooden Chair, dusty,
For the Comfort,
Time, a mystery gone,
Never to be recovered,
Days of gloom, waiting,
Shine not, The Light,
Come back, to Me,
My words, of Joy,
Wisdom, once known.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008