I do not know?
As I remain here where I lie,
I keep asking that I will quickly die.
I hate this stupid self-centered life,
where all people are filled with hate & strife.
As my mom feels so wonderful from popping pills,
I'm stuck here with the worst gut-wrenching feeling that kills.
I'm sick of my life being filled with tears, cutting, & sadness.
Why can't we just end all the madness?
Why can't people have a life where no tears are seen, only laughs, smiles, & happiness.
And no one could intervene?
Copyright © Halee Britt
It’s hard to wake up every morning and see a face in the mirror that so
resembles the person that hurt you so deep.
To see the face of that person that causes this
internal battle you have to deal with everyday.
The person who truly made you understand that there IS a thin line between
love and hate.
It’s nearly impossible to look at myself without being overwhelmed with feelings
of love and hate for her. I hate her for what she did not only to me and our family,
but to herself. I hate her for throwing away so much potential because she
needed something better. I hate her because she made us feel like we weren’t
And yet this battle rages because while a part of me hates her,
a part of me will love her no matter what.
I love her because she can always make me laugh.
I love her because she always wants to fix everything.
I love her because of all the things she has taught me both directly and indirectly.
But still I love her most because no matter what she will always be a part of me.
But I hate her because no matter what….
I will always be a part of her.
I look into the mirror everyday and see two faces: past and present,
molded together to form one: mine.
And yet no matter how many times I tell myself it’s me in that mirror I can only
Copyright © Megan Viar
‘0 LITTLE WHITE TABLET’
O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
No-one told me, when they introduced me to
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years.
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.
This poem refers to prescribed drugs
Copyright © pat dring
My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom.
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .
Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world .
Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life .
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?
I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.
Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .
Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party, how and when, Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock .
"Dad Passed " received call from sister whom just stayed a week with me , I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.
I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.
He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~
I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme.
Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
Are you Glorified with Power? Denied the right to grieve ,
Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .
My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks.
We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.
Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .
Copyright © Shanity Rain
Southern love, Southern hate
they are the opposite of each other
I have memories of both in the State I love dearly.
Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans .
the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize .
One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer , reminisce of fresh lemonade
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day '
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans .
This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother .
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day .
This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet .
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fast. yours is only teachings of Discriminate .
she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite
These people dressed in funny white sheets .
only later I discovered what this was about
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out .
These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World
Leaving me that day with no doubt . Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen
I do not know?
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
Mother, mother can't you see?
How much are you putting the needle,
Deep inside of my heart?
I know the pain won't go away!
I know you are blind to see the truth!
Pain pain pain,
When will you go away?
Anger, hate & discouragement
Always comes my way!
What am I supposed to do?
I feel alone deep inside,
I feel the empty pressure against my chest,
In a prison of hate,
I am sick of the people who I love,
Betraying me & ruining the trust,
God above who sees your actions,
I hope He will never forgives you,
For you who keep on sin.
One day you will see
Throw my eyes & my pain,
One day you will stop on pretend,
Realize your mistakes,
It will be too late,
I will be gone far away,
I will never come back again!
Copyright © shirin neshat
NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view
I can see your blood boiling
through the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my lungs;
your words seek like bullets
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
I should have seen it…
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew.
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same
these 28 days,
but now I’m f_ckin A__hole
Aunt Floe gave me that name.
She said get out my face
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by
What was said before.
I love you
With her glossy eyes
I knew it was true,
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love
To live my life like in a pit.
This is horrible sh_t
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent.
You could be laughing
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue a week.
And that ain’t gone happen
I’m a person too,
But I got feelins
and don’t know what to do.
Now its been six days
She locked herself
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk. ?
Copyright © Anthony Thomas
The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
I do not know?
I hate it, I hate it.
Everything that she does.
I hate her, I hate her.
There's nothing that she loves,
And I see
Her different now.
There are faults that
Were never there.
Never supposed to
Be seen by me.
Meant to be hidden,
And just leave-be.
I hate it how she makes me mad
I feel I've given in.
I hate it how she thinks she's grand,
Always thinks she'll win.
I hate it how I fight her back.
I kick her down, she still attacks.
I feel the evil
When we fight.
I wish you'd leave,
Stay out tonight.
I don't want to
Be here any more.
MY whole body
Is achingly sore.
When we yell
It hurts my bones,
Like you've thrown
Some violent stones.
When we scream
My throat hurts,
Like you've thrown
Some cursing dirt.
When we fight,
It hurts my eyes.
You need to stop
These stupid lies.
~Written in 2003 (Friday, 7th, March) when I was fourteen.
Copyright © Madison Balmont
I do not know?
Dear mother earth,i came but now ive regret my coming, who brought me
is dead and gone leaving me to roam causing a lot of crime against
I do know the dangers ive caused, the lives ive wrecked, the future ive
destroyed,i'm feeling very bad for the sorrows am inflicting on so many
Dear mother earth please tell your kids i'm around ,let them stop taking
risks to there graves.
Mam tell the young ladies that are carrying me that there is moe to life
To the young men i say your future is still bright and sparkling you can
still make impact and transform others that may want to think i'm not
To my angels,the kids, just ignore me and think of what you will become
in the future ,above all forgive your parents ,its not there fault neither mine
but those that brought me.
To the single parents i hate taking your mother or father,husband or wife
away please forgive me and always cherish their memories.
To the orphans i cant confront you to say sorry ,please mother earth beg
for mercy for me and tell them i'm terribly sorry.
To the world at large i say i hate being around causing you the pains i'm
causing you at present.
For the sake of humanity and especially the orphans here is what to do
to get rid of me,
Know i'm around,live safe in all aspect,and for the sake of humanity here
are the things to do written on my back.
"I want to go back please help me to go back i know i'm not welcome
and please dont welcome me .A-abstain from all risky practices
B-be faithfull to yourself and others.
C-concious use of condoms.
D-discipline your self .
E-educate yourself and others.
Yours sincerely Hiv/Aids.
Copyright © patricia buckle
A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
Copyright © Miche Ulman
The thought of you makes me feel choked
Speaking your name is like swallowing glass
If you were in my arms you would be blood soaked
The foul memories of you never pass
You did nothing good for me
Made me feel like i was rotting inside
I tore out my eyes cause you were all i could see
I wanted to kill you, so i tried
You filled my mind with corrupt thoughts
Forced me to say lies like "love you lots"
But my hate for you, you can never comprehend
I want to watch your pain never end
Why do you keep me here tormenting me
Cant you see what you did to me
Why do you act like you did nothing to make my heart sore
I hate you so what am i here for
You took away everything i ever cared for
I will hate you in my heart to the very core
I want to spill your guts on the floor
Because every day i hate you more and more!
Copyright © Nathan Fehr
I went to the mailbox.
Much to my dismay;
I would've rather had smallpox,
Than what I found today.
I may sound dramatic,
And I guess that is true,
But what I found so traumatic;
You sounded so blue.
Did it cross your mind
As I curled in your womb,
That the parents I'd find
Couldn't deal with your bloom?
Did you find some compassion
When you ran like the wind?
Did you dress in high fashion
Or the flower child trend?
I hate that my screaming
Got under your skin.
One nurse was redeeming,
So the doctor dropped in.
I think I will tell you
The source of our pain
Was a clavicle fracture
With a nerve induced strain.
This poem's about Childhood,
And all it intels.
I won't create falsehood,
For truth always sales.
Don't put your guilt and pity on me,
Or whatever you felt in the latter.
You'll never know that the flower you'd see,
Came from mental abuse, hate and batter.
Copyright © Astrid Ivy Gibbs
I do not know?
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.
When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,
ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,
does Allah not recoil in horror,
to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.
Where is the indignation,
the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,
where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,
where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,
where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,
where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.
14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,
Advocating the rights of girls to an education.
Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.
Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.
Shame on me,
for my inaction,
Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,
yet are conspicuously silent,
when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,
by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.
Not in my name!
Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,
Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,
Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,
left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,
not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,
not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,
as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.
I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,
yet I fear,
that I shall write more of this,
unless we stand up and say 'no more',
I fear that I shall be writing this again,
until we all,
reclaim the true principles of humaneness,
until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of fanatical insanity,
I fear I shall be writing this again,
until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,
I shall continue to say,
NOT IN MY NAME!
Or else I shall have nothing,
but my unending shame.
(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
Have half to hang hand in hand
And harp the harmless hate
Then heap the hazardous haze of heartbreak
And heave the ironic heroine
Because the hollow horde that hovers over head
Is now the narcissist on narcotics
Creating nausea near the neglected one
While the network of nerves brings news
Of the night nitrogen seemingly never-ending
So end the notorious nudge of nylon personality.
Copyright © Gabrielle Wolcott
I do not know?
I hate the birth mark under my right eye
I hate my extremely static hair
I hate my big bottom lip
I hate my spotty nose
I hate that I have really *****y times
I hate that people only remember me for my really *****y times
I hate that the real *****es hate me
I hate being cautious so they don’t ***** about me
I hate that I cry over everything
I hate that people know I cry over everything
I hate that I hide from them anyway
I hate that they actually don’t care
I hate the fact that my brother is leaving home next year
I hate the fact that I cried when he told me that
I hate the fact that I hid my tears from him
I hate the fact that he’s all I really have left
I hate my father for making me feel like he doesn’t care about me
I hate my mother for making me feel like she picked him over me
I hate that my brother had to look after me when they couldn’t be bothered
I hate that, in my eyes, they don’t deserve to be called mum and dad
I hate that when I was younger I had to run away from my father
I hate that my mother and brother left me by myself that day
I hate that they left me closer to my father
I hate that they went somewhere I would have felt safer
I hate that I feel like my friends are slowly fading away from me
I hate that I feel like I’m a third wheel
I hate that I feel like my friend’s don’t trust me
I hate that I feel like I can’t trust my friends
I hate the feeling of loneliness
I hate that I read books to escape to a world better than mine
I hate that I write to create a better life than my own
I hate that people want to invade that one heaven I invented
I hate that people ask me why I made Katy Clover Taylor
I hate that I had to make a role model for myself
I hate that she is the person I desperately want to be
I hate that she is the one thing I will never live up to
I hate that I feel like my grades would grasp my families attention
I hate that feeling of disappointment when I get a bad grade
I hate feeling like I have to live up to an expectation to hold their attention
I hate that I am relied on because of my grades
I hate that I am an older mind trapped in a younger body
I hate that I am limited in what I can do because of my age
I hate not being trusted upon
I hate people treating me as a kid
I hate not telling people how I feel
I hate hiding behind an invisible barrier
I hate not being able to share how I feel with people
I hate being scared that they won’t care.
I hate people judging me
I hate judging people
I hate that feeling of giving up
I hate the feeling of losing when I didn’t give up
I hate the choices I have made
I hate that nobody thinks I can live up to my dream
I hate people thinking they are so much better than me
I hate the fact that they are right
I hate that I will never make a good girlfriend
I hate the fact I know nobody would fall for me
I hate knowing that no one would help me pick up my life
I hate that it has fallen apart
I hate hurting the people I love
I hate them not loving me anymore
I hate knowing that what I would do would hurt people
I hate the fact I do it anyway
I hate knowing that I do all of this
I hate knowing I hate all of this
I hate trying to change it
I hate that I am not able to change it
I hate that I try not to give up hope
I hate knowing all hope is lost
I hate that I still try and cling to it anyway
I hate knowing I failed at that too
But most of all
I hate not being able to express this until now
I hate that this still won’t change a thing
I hate thinking that it still might
I hate knowing that no one cares
Copyright © Teenage Frustrations
Its been over 27 years coming
this missive or letter,
maybe poem ?
I HATE Mother’s day !!
with a passion ... I've said it ...
The sheer relief is palpitating
a load of my mind, and body,
slithers away peacefully knowingly,
just to see those words in writing,
Actually I find the words out of reach
to express my utter relief, just now
Don’t get me wrong,
It’s not that I don’t love or
want to celebrate my mother
or lack feeling for her
Oh ! it’s completely the opposite
Not only does it remind me what I miss (her)
but it also reminds me, what,
what I always felt I lacked
(as a mother I mean), and I've felt
it for many years, since my first
My mother and hers and my father and his
set the standards so high, so very high
that I thought hey, I'm smart ?
I can be a mother a better mother
like no other, like no other indeed !
I remember receiving gifts
being overwhelmed with joy
that first mother’s day
I was graced with that love
and all those crazy
Motherly emotions, we mothers feel
I felt gratitude for all that
and so much more
But then doubt crawled into mind
setting up house, making a home
that would last the whole lifetime
of my eldest son, until these past
days filled with agony, measured
no longer in minutes or hours
but in each moment of pain
I felt I hadn’t been there enough
I knew, or thought I knew
I hadn't loved them 'enough'
or soothed their pains
or made their bed 'enough',
Jesus, the shit I poured
down my own back
I lack many things, though
I had wisp of a dream
that hope would win,
I'd be a mother, like my own
but that wasn't to be
life changed like a hurricane
I lived one life and then
another took its place
no better or worse,
my children never went without,
then they did for more years
than the former, I felt the pain
each time I said 'no' but always
tried to rob Peter paying Paul his due
and went without, yes even food
then slowly as times sands swiftly
drew threw the hourglass
they all left, got jobs, found love
and made lives without me,
I never get to see them much
some more than others
over time it’s taken its toll
I thought lack of contact
spoke about the mother I was
how much I was loved
I was right,
it was saying something
just not what I thought
I have saved two of mine
from the very hands of death,
I have went without sleep
for more reasons than I care to list
I have answered the phone
in the dead of night
spoken about everything
I missed a call to bail a man out
but alas it was the one night
I have known the hands of sleep
all night, for a very long time
so I forgive myself, even if he doesn't
I have slaved and went without sleep
Christmas night, just to see their
little faces in the morning
I always tried my best hoping
and praying, yes praying !,
(to that one in the second row
Saying, "I always knew she prayed")
Some will take a shot at a guess
at why I write this just now this close
to a day that should be celebrated
for all mothers the good ones and the bad
It’s because even a bad mother can love
with every fiber of her beautiful soul,
even a bad mother can be a good mother
on those days that end with a child’s peace
As my days trickle to hours and minutes
I know mothers never ever stop being mothers
yes even the bad ones, can love forever
with passion that burns from her womb
There is a feeling that only a mother can feel
and I don’t mean just birth mothers,
I mean all mothers Biological or not
they all feel it in their hearts and minds
in their bodies and souls
even the children she gave homes to
(but not life), in doing so
is giving a life to without
knowing first breath,
and yet still carry with them a love
they will always bare
then as times hand lays his head
and says enough, she is gone
it is now on this Mother’s Day
I say, I hate mother’s day even more
because I am a motherless child
wishing for just a few moments more
so I could tell my mother
she was the best mother, like no other,
Because she was mine
there’s a lesson here for you children
those lucky enough to still have their mother
give her a call and just say I love you, then hang up !!
let her think what a "cray cray crazy" child she has
but wouldn’t change for anything even life
and I bet she smiles ... eventually
time will never stand for no man or woman,
So love your mother and tell her, once a week ? maybe?
To my kindred souls who have felt the loss
and the stinging cut of the wounds
that drip with grief from their loss
today I hate Mother’s day too ......
but there's a lasting but here,
I forgive my beautiful soul,
I gave 'enough', it was all I had ...
Copyright © Jayne Eggins
I hope you can understand my rhyme scheme and structure. I wrote from the heart and created a funky style. God bless
Stand up straight
Tuck in your shirt
Lose the cheesy smile
Perfect, single file
Don't wear those clothes
Don't embarrass me
You lack humility
Why can't you be like so and so
Where have you gone with your life
I didn't give you good genes to blow
You aren't the sharpest knife
Sadness I keep
You caused my depression
If I kill myself
Put an urn on your shelf
Keep my wealth
Take blame for my suicidal session
You should be ashamed
You're to blame
Disgraced my name
Your too much "you" to bear
Now run along
Sing your song
Do it all wrong
See if mama cares
Copyright © Anna Hopper
No child, do not think I hate you
When I hit you with the rod.
Not that I am wilder than our wildest mothers
Or hate to see you play,pick or pluck
Sweet pleasure with your hands.
Do not admire those who do the drugs
And taking too much drink, take their own wits.
You cannot afford to be at a standstill
Like those who watch and wait
For the wings of chance.
When all is harsh around and about
When your mates mark and make their way
You cannot afford to be at a standstill!
Go to school and make for yourself a man
Grow up, my little man and warm
My heart with your wisdom.
Do not let your prime wander
And by wandering lose the way.
Seize the satchel while spring is green
For if you are shiftless or lazy,
Time shall fall frozen upon your face
Copyright © Jude Chukwuemeka
Escaping from the patterns of my life
From crime and hate and inner strife
I visit a place that is pure and serene
Where i'm alone as a morning bird sings
I followed a path forged in stone
immersed in beauty, that nature owns
It is nature that owns the morning haze
That envelops the glory of this mystic maze
A labyrinth of answers to my dreams
this paradise is false,or so it seems
As the sun beamed its radiant light
i choose a place and did recite
I gasped at the trees and fertile soil
that inherit the flowers as my quill toiled
The flowers have blossomed this early spring
Akin to a babe, immaculate and pristine.
The scent of the air is not of smog and dirt
that blackens the white and decays the dirks
Yet that of a fragrant scent from the flowers
that abides in memory to this very hour.
i heard patter from a creek a distance away
Gentle and calm it enraptured my stay
And to my eyes not a ripple shows
As i induced a wish then tossed a rose
Akin to a morrow, i saw my reflection
Hued in beauty of Mother Nature's protection
For all this beauty that envelops me
unfolds clearly for the world to see
And to the world like a perpetual fire
it flares and glows never to tire
prevailing past the wars hate and crime
the creek remains until the end of time
The morning bird wings again before me
Adieu Mother Nature I'll never defy thee
Yes! the bird of faith will lead the way
To some other secluded haven to stay.
Copyright © anthony Pardi jr
A stinging pain falls upon my face making my vision turn red.
I look up into your eyes and see nothing but the rage and hate in your souls windows,
How could someone be so angry?
How can you go day to day knowing what you do?
I was kind, I was good.
But you made me like this.
Put me deeper,
Into the dark where there was only a spark of hope left
But that even started fading as you continued to throw you anger at me.
Was I the one who made you like this?
Me your ’one and only’
How could someone be so angry?
How can you go day to day knowing what you do?
I was brave, I was slipping.
Into a deep,
Darkness that made me lose my mind
You made me like this.
I can finally throw my anger at you.
How does it feel now mother?
You cry and ask me to stop, but did you ever listen?
Me your ‘one and only’
How could I be so angry?
How can I go day to day knowing what I do?
I can go day to day knowing that I made myself free,
Of all the hate you would throw at me.
Can you handle mine?
Copyright © Evan Nelson
I do not know?
In my dreams her voice is cold,
Her haunting eyes so bright and bold,
She tells me she will take my life,
For all I caused that fateful night.
I beg and plead for her to go,
Her vile sole belongs below,
But she insists that she will stay,
And all her games I have to play.
Her wicked hands curled round my thought,
They make me gag and make me choke,
I wish I could escape this dream,
But her eyes so hard they gleam.
As I wake I find I cry,
To see that I have told these lies,
There streaming from me like hot mud,
As I see I have tears of blood.
Copyright © Katanna Boleyn
Correct me if I’m wrong but is not love built on trust?
And if love is built on trust, do you trust me?
God teaches us to look past ones actions,
Yet you continue to judge.
I work so hard for a sliver of your approval,
Only to be crushed by my own imperfections.
If you have taught me one important thing,
It is this:
You are my mom,
Not my friend.
Copyright © Patrick Fox
stand right here in front of me
and tell me that you love me
then follow with you respect me
then follow with you TRUST ME
cause right now it's gone from bad to worse
your shovin me in this hurse
like a game?
I'm just hurt.
it's like your overprotective but at the same time it's worthless
you can't run my life,
but you can sure as hell try
and come close to it.
hate to break it to ya
but im a grown girl,
a grown adult
you have to stop this twirl
that is circling like a merry-go-round!
i can't be sound,
can't be tame
it's no longer a game!
you once said you wanted to have a close relationship,
well guess what,
you're pushing me out,
without even thinking,
in the heat of a moment
I'll be gone before you know it
gone before you realize;
that once when we could talk,
once when it wasn't opinionated,
once when you were sincere instead of tuning my heart out
is about to be forgotten,
down a sewage drain,
out the back-door.
Your controlling ways have done nothing but tore
the lining to my emotions,
its ripped, ripped away
and the only way to protect beneath that lining
is to get the hell out.
save my soul before you try to take over it all
ruining the experiences I WANT to have,
you don't get it
you don't want to
and after all of this
even if i surrender over my happiness
it wont be enough,
there will be more-
and with more there will be higher expectations
and lower for others
it's like I have to impress the queen
when all i want back
Copyright © Sarah Casey
It's summer again
And I hate it
Your abuse is worse in summer
Every summer you do this to me
You call me horrid names
You hurt me physically and mentally
And I'm sick of
I just want to runaway but
If I did then you would be hurt you
I know you don't mean doing these things
Don't you understand what it does to me
You say you care about me
But do you really
You know, I don't care anymore
I cared for years
But now you've gone too far
You're taking me away from
My friends, my boyfriend and even family
Why do you do this
Is it because you hate me
Even if you do
I have too much heart to hate you back
I want to kill you
I really do
But if I do then I might as well kill my self
Ha! There you go again
You're now going to beat me
because I said 'I love you'
I sigh and go to my room
I pack my bags and leave a note
Saying how much I hate you
I bet you're crying and I'm happy
I'm happy you feel distraught
I hope you have a horrible life starting now
Copyright © Autumn Kire
every feeling, every thought
cursing through these veins
cut off by the blood clot
i don't miss these growing pains
you taught me to love
you taught me to hate
when push came to shove
i could always relate
every feeling every thought
i was your fetus
i was your blood clot
and now look at us
full of self pity, self doubt
i hate you, I HATE YOU
for everything i'm about
what is it? i didn't do?
the feeling the thought
one year away
from doing everything i wasn't taught
what is it? i didn't say? a part of me is always you, it's always 'us'
its's every feeling, it's every thought
find another fetus
find another blood clot
Copyright © L. B. Warner
Freedom before my lost brother
They march before the rising sun with guns at six
We stand before sun down with signs of freedom
Who really marches to the same drum?
When my hand have been blown off for beat
The beat, the beat, the beat
As he races from the explosion of freedom in his chest
To escape this tide of hate
That swept us slaves of red, white and blue
And he is nothing like before when hate took him away
He is a man at six and we are still children as adult
War took my hands and feet I am no solider
I fight for freedom not money
You fight so this tide will not cross-oceans and sands
We fight here for food and light
And light, to breathe, to die for family
Across the ocean hand my son an ak-47
And he will march and kneel before God for forgiveness
Hand my brother a ruger and he will stand in the shadows for American greed
Greed in the land of freedom and hope, black in the shadows
And mother can mend wounds here across the oceans she can only dial
Mother over there must know how to be doctor and surgeon, and warrior for the
Generation to survive, to live
We cannot procreate; we are the ends of mankind
With bombs in the hands of babies
To extend our left hand of hate across the ocean, across towers of hope
We must all be the same here a million mile from each other
My skin dictates that I hate, be hated, I rape, be raped
I bleed red, white and blue
Watching in shock, disbelief as red, white and blue goes up in flames in the
Ashes of the wind just like you
Freedom can never come to me here before her with that torch
My mother across the ocean must be sending me a package of death to kill my
Your four father because my complexion means that no one can see me
I am a lost brother, forgotten sister
Hated child with no hands, no hands in freedom
March me before television cameras, signs of peace, and words of love
I am still a lost brother............ before truth
But you knoe me so well..
From the the same box that caused my cousins in your land to be hung
Money means nothing here, Money means every thing beside her with the torch
Pass it to me so I may freedom---the truth
Copyright © Toya Williams
If I told you
that I hated you,
you would cry,
and I hate it when you cry,
because then I cry too
So if I was hurt
because you were hurt
I don't really hate you.
Maybe I hate what you've become
and what you are becoming
As the days pass on by
you can see that your little girl
is becoming a woman
and it hurts to let go
you want to hold on tight
Sometimes so tight that she's gasping
for the world around her
she knows that it is just for her protection
but what would happen if she didn't experience things
on her own
You may tell her what's wrong and what's right
but the truth is
when there's too much right being done
she turns to wrong for answers
so no matter how tight you hold on
she's still gonna learn on her own
and no matter how much you tell her you love her
she's still gonna tell you she hates you
because it's wrong.
Copyright © Taylor Barragato