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Introspection Confusion Poems | Introspection Poems About Confusion

These Introspection Confusion poems are examples of Introspection poems about Confusion. These are the best examples of Introspection Confusion poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Didn't Don't

Somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
           didn't don't       
           didn't don't
They toll for me.

Don't touch it. Don't say it. Don't do it. 
Don't doubt it. Don't think. Don't ...

Somebody handcuffs my steps,
determines my boundaries.
Before I fully understand free will
there is a slap on my head
            and phosphenes like stars
            command my orbit.
Before I recognize differences
there is a slap on my hand
            right hand, not left hand,
            never ambidextrous

Time out
its isolation without trial
to learn
to fear wrongdoing 
to allow them to remote-control my existence,
conditional on demand, frightening.

An aborted freedom escaping
into the sewer
trying not to get it on the seat
attempting to prove an alibi 
                    for being alive
No one cares, not even myself.

Somebody pulls on the rope to swing the bells
           didn't don't       
           didn't don't
They toll for me.
It's dirty. It's ugly. It's bad. It's poo. It's sin.

commitments, commandments
salvation, damnation

deception makes them ring in a low tone.
I do what they say, 
 and not what they do,
  and not what I want,
   and not what I think.

Through     fragments     of     this     duplicity
                                  and     this     duplicity
I would be able to rebuild myself and Myself
into another hypocritical being;
the intentional perversion of the self proclaimed truth,
the liar paradox to reign
through tricks and cotton swabs.

When the remorseless hours run counterclockwise,
I would be happy of imaginary experiences,
consistently depurated, consistently believed to be true.
Would I dare to examine the society in which I've been educated and raised?
Would I dare rip my skin, my flesh off of my bones?

How could I blame them? 
How could I possibly judge them?

Social order and obedience 
in confabulation, in conspiracy, in complicity

Somebody will keep pulling on the rope
to swing the bells; they will toll for me:
the one who guards his own cell.

Cause I'm the jailer, and the convict, and the crime.


Copyright © Ruben O.

Details | Free verse | |

Your Words

Your words,
are projectiles
dripping with Arsenic
and aimed at my heart
spitting out darts and swords 
that expertly find their mark
and draw blood

Your words,
when aimed at others
are carried by Pixies
and sprinkled 
with honey and sugar coatings
that melt in their ears
and taste of confection

Your words,
cloak me in pain and guilt
for undone atrocities
and imagined factors
as your blame
riddles my soul
causing it to
prune, wither, and crust

Your words,
accusing, spiteful, degrading, malicious
paintings of what I once thought
was an indestructible bond of Love
that no one 
should be able to destroy

and yet
you do so
with your words.

I've no soul left
no appetite for your touch
no desire to want for anything


to become deaf
so I will no longer
have to listen to

your words

Copyright © Sandra Hudson

Details | Rhyme | |


I went to my closet 
To pick out a mask
Many to choose from
Am I up for the task?

The image of sensitivity
Or do I want to appear strong
Maybe the mask of co-operation
I can pretend to get along

Do I dare go with ugly
Can I pull off being mean?
Perhaps I can go with sexy
Or try dawning obscene 

This mask that is two faced
I have had it on before
It got me in trouble
I won't wear it any more

What about pious
The mask of a saint
Or maybe this clown
Colored with paint

I wouldn't mind being a hero
At least for one day
I could be a philosopher 
If I had something to say

All of these masks
Here in my pile
I think I will discard them
Just be myself for a while

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Couplet | |

The Breed

Sometimes within the walls of today
We simply search for another way

To make this day all it should be
I must learn to live eternally

A blessing given or one took
I live my life inside a book

Each new day is another page 
I sit in the circle and burn my sage

Asking Grandfather to help me see
Exactly what a true man should be

With the blood of an Indian and of a white
Life is most certainly a spiritual fight

Half of me hates how the other half-lives
The white man took all the Indian gives

Then the white man decided to take some more
Slaughtered the Indians from shore to shore 

Brought an end to a beautiful way of life
“We will kill the man and rape the wife”

They called us heathens but don’t you know
Was the white man that had a heathen’s soul

Half and half, the blood of a breed
Poisoned by a white mans seed

It’s my Indian half I love the most
My white half is turning into a ghost 

Through my veins flows the blood of a brave
Though I lived my life as my white halves slave

Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross for me
Now my Indian half enjoys living free

Though freedom is a frame of mind
In the circle of life it’s truth I find

With each new poem I’m able to see
A little bit deeper up inside of me

Which enables my soul to truly live
Making my heart strong enough to give

All the faith that is found in a seed
I reckon half and half, is good breed

Posted in respects to James Fraser

Copyright © Michael Jordan

Details | I do not know? | |

Desperate (tritina)

I wish I knew how, had ability to turn
away from you and not look back to see if it
affected you, my turning away, walking off.

I want you to miss this, and I fail to pass off
the distance as a gravely unfortunate turn
of events, see truth within desperation, it

blinds, consumes, and (I hate to, but) I admit it
impossible to justify the breaking off
of any contact to once again inward turn.

I want to reach within, find this, and turn it off.

Copyright © Tracy Decker

Details | I do not know? | |


There it is again
Bubbling up from within
Wretched wrath washing over me
Vile disgusting filth freely flowing
Angry demons seizing control
Forced attrition to evil urges

Rants of rage

Watched from within

Unable to soothe the beast
Surrender to aggression
Until the bile is expelled
Vomited forth in fury
Leaving only the bitter tastes
Of regret and sorrow 

Copyright © Vandy Saylors

Details | Rhyme | |

Who Am I

I am a creation of myself 
I don't know who I am 
I'm this to you and that to him 
Hardly more than just a scam 
I'd like to be who I'd like to be 
If only I could figure
Which of me is the me 
I see within the mirror

Copyright © Howard Tunick

Details | Couplet | |

Lama Drama

Thoughts that thrive on scattered dreams
shoot through the mind like laser beams
Hunger echoes a hollow song
Voices merge, intestines long
Lips are dry, and tongues are parched
Memories are pressed and starched
No miming board can take the heat
Hot irons that scorch the hands and feet.

Cold days flow into brackish nights
on borrowed hopes and collared pride
Answers wrapped in braided woes
Crushed, then scattered by angry toes
Worry stalks in cleated shoes
It leaves a track of pallid blue
Just when it seems to reach the rise
It folds then doubles up in size.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald

Details | Rhyme | |

The Mad Hatters

Madness, the Hatter blinks. 
Madness, Oz's link. 
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's complaint**, 

Madness must reciprocate!

Hallucinations filter by....
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on Dorothy's thighs...
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer. 
Madness splices genes with fear. 
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer. 
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.

"Are you the ass? Or is it me? 
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.

Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Lenore's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink. 
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.

Reference Poem Knock Knock by The Archaic Poet - topic madness

* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
   if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to 
   all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome a type of 
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist who autism. 
   extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Free verse | |

The Day That Died Forever

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

Details | Rhyme | |


   From the womb I sprung forth in a storm unrelenting
waves crashing ashore, endless bending and blending
alone and defenseless to weather the tempest
the gales blew relentless, clouding my senses

  Set adrift in that sea of the knowledge of man
attempting to stand, felt around with bare hands  
plunged deep in the waters, searching for others
consciousness faltered, eyes closing shutters

  Then I had awakened to find I'd been taken
to an archaic dwelling, time should have forsaken
a shaman commands- a glorious rant
a clasping of palms, an aggregate chant

  From what source? I did wonder, descending to ponder
was ultimate wisdom derived and contrived
upon examination, and deep contemplation
I viewed this creation, with grim consternation

  An anomaly present in each generation
a wise person born, elevated, and stationed
to higher position, with God given vision
Innate intuition brings truth to fruition

 Mankind in collective, this most stubborn creature
materialism his central shared feature
twisting to suit them to there situations
killing the prophets- forging the nations

  Undertows from life's currents did violently grab me
envelop and drag me, develop, distract me
manifesting unsettling neural connections
truth became slippery- changing directions

  Somewhere through the ages our paths had diverged
 wise words been perverted, and hatred emerged
 devouring souls, then swallowing whole
 foundations of kingdoms, rendering null

Copyright © Ronald Wheeler

Details | Free verse | |

Dear Me

Dear Me,

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.

Dear Me,

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

Details | Rhyme | |

Reality or Dreaming

My heart skips a few beats 
before I realize that I’m not breathing.
Am I dying? I ask myself
but there is no response

Is this the end?
I close my eyes 
It feels so much like falling
much like suffocating
much like nothing

I don’t know what’s going on around me
all I know is that I just felt a breath leave me
my eyes fly open and see the people around me
My heart must be beating

I don’t know if this is a reality 
or if I’m dreaming
All I know is I hear screaming

Then I realize
It’s coming from me

Out of my lungs 
Through my mouth 
Out into the already intoxicated air
 Evaporating everything

I don’t know if this is a reality 
Or if I’m dreaming

Copyright © Destiny Echo

Details | Narrative | |

The Phone

The phone rings empty into the night.
Filling a void that brings strange comfort
to thoose around.

Rage eats away untill it bores a hole
straight through are hearts.
Whiskey cauterizes the wound.

Alone with fools we gather.
The bitter ones taking to there barstools.
the weak look to punish thoose happy
Who dare to feel anything in the place of  

She left so many years befor.
At least her mortal soul did.
I rememeber when it was when I still
dared to dream.

Long befor reallity was a friend.
Lovers lie.
Motions keep us living.

She spoke but the words were empty as her heart.
So as strangers we parted just as we met.
With a bitter taste I never did reply.

The phone rang it's last time.
I herd it echo farewell down the hall.

I had to go so I never unlocked the door.
i just left my emotions hanging  like some
forgotten coat pushed back in
the closet.

Its been almost a year since that phone filled
the emptyness of my soul.
If only I had answered.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo

Details | Free verse | |

Betting on Nothing

By committing to nothing, one retains infinite options.
I have hid inside these words for moons and seasons and New Year’s toasts.
The lone wolf roams fertile pastures unfettered.
The thrill of the hunt.
The chase.
An empty bed is the hope of a new body’s sleeping curve.
Tomorrow becomes yesterday.
“The mystery of mysteries is the gateway to marvels.”
I stopped looking long ago.

The faces have blurred into a montage of emptiness.
Come and go; came and went.
I never bothered much to be bothered.
There aren’t many memories
And I am thankful for that.
Wet fingers and licked lips’
Blood on my hands.
Wasted time.
The years run on like a favorite sitcom gone bad.
It all should have been retired years ago.

It is easier to stay afloat and roam the big waters alone
Than set up camp on an island and face a face.
No problems.
No worries.
No connection.
Freedom is all that you cannot commit to
And who surrenders to nothing is he who lives in frigid shadows of fear.
Maybe I have never truly known warmth.

I walk the streets like a war-worn shoulder.
A little cold, a little distant, a little too silent.
The words I have are recycled fragments of someone else’s life.
I don’t offer much.
Poker face.
Can you read my concrete stare?
I have an entire universe hiding in my back pocket
But I’m scared to show you.
It’s been so long since I groped or even fondled my own life.
I’m not sure what I do or don’t have to offer.
I just keep making bets and upping the ante.

Copyright © Robert Woolridge

Details | Free verse | |

Minds lost are Minds Found

I’m losing my mind in a hurry!
Maybe, maybe, losing the mind is letting it find itself
or maybe, i'm just crazy

I keep running  with anticipation, with heart open and judgment closed
[I discover most superbly this way]
 Foolishly Dropping it, hoping that it’ll pick up something useful
On sidewalks, books, table-top salty discussions,
Sometimes in filth letting it pervade the crevices
And when I tidy it, sometimes
It doesn’t all come out, but I try my best
Ever so often, after a new dish soap and scrubbing gloves
 it comes out cleaner then it ever was, 
With spicy remains of the crude yet true substances

Chunks fall out where the glue of stability erodes 
                  I know that I am fond of it this way
So I can put them back together
                   With my own fingers

                                                     Organized C   H   A   O   S

Instead of the media’s, my peers, my parents, piloting
The pivotal pieces 
I let them descend tenderly into location
In my own decimal code
I constitute the regulations here
This belongs to me, my only
Safe place

It doesn’t matter to me if life doesn’t flow
If it’s jagged or slow, here
I don’t care
If insanity is the real sanity
Or that distinctive is incorrect
This is my society and I shape it as I please
Seeing as it only affects me
As long as my mind is 
In flurries of expansion
I don’t really care if it’s lost at all

Copyright © Bella Cardenas

Details | Rhyme | |


Alone for for now driffting apon the sea.
You stayed at the shore.
Cause you never found comfort  in someone like me.

The sunset is empty when your alone.
Worthless is the kingdom.
When no one is willing to share the 

I was your clown when in shadows I always 
found a way to make your spirts lift.
Ive lost all since of direction.
Since you set me adrift.

Was it only a moment something I cold not see.
the heart bleeds still.
From this prison called a memory.

The storm doesnt effect me out here.
Its not death.
But isolation I fear.

The wind is my only friend the ocean my home.
Searching for that which I cannot have.
On this endless quest I roam.

Drawing a heart inside your hand as
 through the sand you sift.
From the comfort of the shore I wonder
do you  recall.
Are love you set adrift. 

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo

Details | Quatrain | |

My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns

Details | Rhyme | |

The Hypocritical Christian

I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
I accept;
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
We pray,

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin

Details | Sestina | |


The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening.  An attempt to hold
Onto the feelings of joy and elation,
That made our day so emphatically special.

Are not the future possibilities also special?
That we dream of yet other gifts,
gifts  of such thought, that might also inspire elation
From giver and receiver for all eternity.
Constantly close to both, holding,
As if to say, “Don’t Ever Change.”

Does growth not require change?
Should not that change be also special?
Only if you have forgotten about holding,
The longing embrace of previous gifts,
One that requires attention for all eternity,
fueling existential feelings of elation.

Even when intentionally forgotten, holding
On to the recipient, despite elation.
At one point, this internal agony was a gift.
What could ever make this change?
This gift that could never be more special.
Now it has changed for eternity.

The re-direct of energy through eternity,
The loss of love’s forever embrace.
Love, making pain beautifully special.
Will there ever be elation?
Maybe if we only change
The way we exchange special gifts.

Our future’s eternity might fill with elation
From  holding the exchange
Of something special,
… the mere appreciation of a gift..

Copyright © Matthew Sample

Details | Free verse | |


To see ourselves as others see us --
unmasked images, through others' eyes --
half-formed caricatures, perhaps --
or mere grotesqueries -- 
barely recognized, telling
what we thought to hide --
we'd label these as skewed
perceptions, not real truth...

But, no matter -- when once
I thought myself unfairly judged
and asked "How so?",
I was reminded of the obvious,
i.e.: all outcomes are determined
by perceived attitudes and actions.
Not truth, but clear perception,
pure appearance, guide others' thoughts
and so create the world we live in.

Thus,  however harsh,
"Perception is reality."

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Free verse | |

It Can't Be Real

A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday

That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing

There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt 
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out

Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real

Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice

It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Lyric | |

What am I running from

I'm running away but I don't know where 
Can't find my way but I really don't care.
And I don't know which way I might go
I guess it all depends on which way the wind blows.
But I'm running
And I don't even know what I'm running from. 
I'm just running
I'm just running
Running blind with no where to hide
Running head on towards what I can't describe
I'm just a running
Just running
Running hard away from what I am
From what I've been just as fast as I can.
But there's no where I can run that You won't see
And no where I can go that I can't be
Maybe one of the ones I'm running from . . . is me.
But I'm running
I'm running.
Maybe I'm more afraid of stopping, and having to deal with me,
Than running blind into, the devil I've yet to see.
I keep running
I keep running
What makes me run well I don't know
I can't be afraid because it scares me so.
I'm running
I ain't running free
I'm running
Trying my best to get away from me.
Am I running from who I am
Or am I running from who I'll be?
I don't expect that you can answer that question for me.
And in the meantime,
I'm running
I'm running

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw

Details | Free verse | |

'Treasured Commodity'

The reflection says 
you've outgrown us 

I somehow feel sad – 

That which we once had 
has become redundant 

The other side of the coin 
says I should be happy 
‘Cause you've found that inner power,
the ability to go out on your own

and yet letting go
   is like losing 
a part of me 

that object that I’ve grown 
accustomed too –

So I’ll be a bit teary 
even feel a bit used 
but I’ll always be grateful 

no one knew the role you played 
sometimes not knowing 
is a treasured commodity


Copyright © Wilma Neels

Details | Free verse | |

I'm Your King

A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.

Copyright © Bj Fard

Details | Free verse | |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Free verse | |

Tension Waiting

The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard 
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.

I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.

And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.

But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,

As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.

And here I am, pouncing at ground before me, 
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.

Copyright © Samir Georges

Details | Rhyme | |

Trading my tomorrows

The things in life that cost me most are the things that came for free.
And what I thought I was,
Was not what I would be.
And what I thought I was looking for
Was not what I could see.
And every time I got close
I threw it all away.
And the price of that keeps going up
It's more than I can pay.
So I keep trading my tomorrows
To forget my yesterdays.
And every time I get close
I throw it all away.
And I know I'm gonna do it
But don't know what makes me this way.
And every time I get close 
I know I've got to pay.
And every time it changes
It always stays the same.
I couldn't wait when I was young
To get away from home
I've spent the rest of my life wishing
That I had never gone.
Chasing my regrets
They're dragging me along.
Willingly unwilling
To forget and just move on.
Driven by the things 
That keep me all alone.
Taking comfort in the pain
Knowing every time that I get close
I'll throw it all away.
And I know I'm gonna do it
But don't know what makes me this way.
Like a secret life has kept from me
To dry me with the rain.
Drinking life like it was whiskey
And chasing it with pain.
And the things that cost the most
Are the things I got for free.
And the ones I need the most 
Are the ones I throw away.
And I know I'm gonna do it
But don't know what makes me this way.
I just keep trading my tomorrows
To forget my yesterdays.
And there's not enough days ahead 
To pay for the days pre-spent.
That prize I've chased in life
I just don't know where it went.
And the things that I've loved most
Are the things that came for free.
And the ones that I need most 
Are the ones I throw away.
And I know I'm gonna do it
But don't know what makes me this way
And the love that cost the most
Is the love I'll throw away
And what was given to me free
Had a price I wouldn't pay. 

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Free verse | |


Sometimes the memories won’t fade 
         All the places we have seen
         All the prices we have paid 
The memories of the happy as well as the sad 
            The people we’ve lost
           The friends that we had 
Some memories just seem like a ghost 
I always lost everyone that I loved the most 
The wind would just carry them away 
             Along with my tears 
            And my ability to pray
    I wonder how far is heaven from here?
              How many more heartaches 
                 How many more tears 
              I wonder how far it is away
Because I have so many things that I wish to say 
To all the people that I loved and I lost 
             I’m not even tripping 
             My heart paid the cost 
The reaper rode the river in a bikers disguise 
I’ll never forget the fear in my mother’s eyes 
    As he drug her under and then let her go 
Through my four year old veins hate started to grow 
My eyes were blind my ears were deaf 
After that I forgot  
           There was anything left  
Karma is like poker for it is bound to luck 
When I was just a boy 
God through me under the truck 
Of all the things in life we feel 
   We are all bound to God’s will 
Passion is a doorway between love and hate 
    God is the dealer in the game of fate 
              Our place is not to question why 
                       For if we do our faith will die 
            The deeper we hate the deeper we love 
            I was gifted wisdom by the Lord above 
                    Every gift comes at a price 
A world of experience behind my advice 
     Every smile holds a lifetime of pain 
Nothing that happens should happen in vein 
                         It is our choice that which we do 
 Know in your heart these words are true 
The harder we fall the further we climb 
             No ones life is totally sublime 
Illusion after illusion will be offered to you 
                 But only the living word is true 
The living word that beats in your heart 
Will keep you safe as the world falls apart 
Through the pain of a boy watching his mother die 
It’s never to late to kiss the sky
A man of faith who could never give up 
Please come break my bread and share in my cup 
By the time our journey is through 
                      I’ll share all I am with you 
          Hopefully somewhere in my words you’ll see 
              ---Untwisted is truly the way to be---

Copyright © Michael Jordan