Long poem by
cassie hellberg | Details |
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Long poem by
Tristine Thomas | Details |
A young girl who’s lost & wandering in the darkness cries out
“If there’s a God out there please save me!”
The darkness replied with silence
But she kept listening so intently to the nothingness around her,
Clenching and unclenching her disheveled, fragile little hands
That eventually she wasn’t able to decipher the sound of her own breathing
From the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees around her.
Her mind was torturing her with traumatizing flashbacks
That she had pushed so deep into her brain hoping she would
Never have to relive those feelings again.
She could also feel the poking and prodding of every worry she’s ever had
Resurface and commence fire on her soul.
All she could think about was how lost, afraid, and miserable
She had become and wondered why it happened to her.
She’s tried fighting so hard to regain her hope,
And take control over her thoughts,
But one girl can only fight for so long after she’s endured what feels like
Years of trying to escape from quick sand
And never being able to get out.
She had become mentally and emotionally exhausted
After fighting in the most difficult battle of her life.
She had been bullied to the point where she would be forever damaged, and was
Constantly being criticized for how and why she took every step in her life,
Beat by her previous boyfriend
Multiple accounts of being a victim of sexual assault,
And lost her father.
When she was younger she was always smiling
And doing goofy stunts and talking in odd voices
Just to hear people laugh.
She loved making others comfortable around her
And feel safe expressing themselves to her.
She was always trying to understand the reasons behind people’s actions
Because she just knew
That if she could even slightly comprehend a person’s thought process
Then she could help them.
She could do her to best to relate to them.
She could save them.
A young girl that was once nothing but sunshine and happiness
Is now a young woman that feels there is no meaning in life
And that she will never be good enough.
The pain of her experiences has ripped her reality in half
And shattered all of her plans, hopes, and dreams into
Nothing but little fragments of the girl she used to be.
Eventually her body started showing signs of neglect
An arm full of raw and bloody slashes that are carved into her skin
That she hid because she was afraid of being ridiculed
For her different way of coping.
She only removed the long sleeves,
The stack of bracelets,
And the layers of bandages from her arms
When she craved the cold sting of
A blade slicing through her skin that gave
The release she’d grown addicted to.
She still tried as hard as she could to find something to rekindle her hope
And maybe resuscitate her spirit to get back on her feet
But her body started changing so quickly she became unrecognizable to
Even her closet friends within a matter of weeks.
She looked like she had been through hell and back,
Trying to survive and trying to find help in a place that ignores
Her attempts at getting the help she knew she needed
While the world told her she was at fault;
She put it all on herself so she doesn’t deserve empathy
And it was a phase she was going through she’d get over in a week
And she hurts herself for attention
so she’s an attention ****
She’s a ****
She was reminded daily of all the things suddenly became
The second people knew of her vulnerability.
Her eyes were not sunken in and her hair thinner than before,
The saturation in her skin was receding more with each day,
And her bones were poking out from under her skin like a deformity
Or like her paper thin skin might rip any time she moved.
When she would look into a mirror and stare at her own reflection
All she could ever do was pick out her every flaw
And obsess over what she needed to change
In order for her to feel good about herself.
She hated herself and her appearance so much
She would get physically ill and her mind would
Attain, capture, and distribute thoughts throughout her conscious
Of how repulsive she believed herself to be.
She only felt relief from the thoughts obscuring her to think rationally
When she would isolate herself and proceed to damage her youthful body.
While kneeling over a toilet and forcing herself to vomit,
She tells herself to imagine the vomit as her feelings being expelled
From her body and aiding to numb the pain her heart was drowning in.
A young girl who’s lost and wandering in the darkness pleaded one last time
“If there’s a God out there please save me!”
She sat in the dark planning her final words
When something in the black emptiness reached for her.
She felt soul push it’s way out of her rib cage
Fleeing from her lifeless, cold body
And let herself be taken away in the arms
Of the God she knew had heard her all along.
Long poem by
Terry Trainor | Details |
Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.
Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,
As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.
If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.
An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.
The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.
Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.
Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.
These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,
As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.
These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,
Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,
Long poem by
Maurice Yvonne | Details |
LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION
I cried yesterday
and I think I broke the world
so I braided some words into twine
planted some sweet and sour coated seeds
I grew free standing expressions and then I joined
them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces
in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt
to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment
It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine
WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST
I loved you centuries before we were born.
You lived in my dreams before I ever slept.
When others wasted time picking flowers
I waited for when it was time to pick you.
Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner.
You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space.
Your desire for them would melt away the ice age.
I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I
could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright
it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital
as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past.
I want to be that magician who does not bother with
illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden.
We were at the fair, joviality in the air.
A memory filed, I was a young child
holding balloons floating round like full moons
in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight
I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine.
If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them
as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower
I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt.
Hope gloats, hope floats.
either your way or just away.
sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot
to walk barefoot........on the concrete path
still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat
I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that.
sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer...
with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as
I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle
peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock...
revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever
ours was a paper mâché love
living in a cut out cardboard home
with a macaroni art painted lawn
and nothing real to call our own
nothing solid that we could hold.
we tried stacking lego bricks
but you have to be able to pop your cheek
to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build.
the castle we assembled didn't pass the test.
so much for fairy tales - hello reality check.
we rolled the dice but our thimble went
straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped.
can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where
are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might
as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!"
we fell through
the bunny hole
where i - jack fell ddddownnn
nnnnnnn and broke my crown
and you - jill came tumbling
it is a choreographed ballet our love
legs at the base digging deep
delicate hands branched out
long slim fingers define twigs
the body of our trunk thick
music fills our human needs
wind pixies dance meticulously
sunlight leaks effectively through
lifts carries holds and shapes
it is a choreographed ballet our love
our bodies their senses once immersed in I
I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on
mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch.
no matter the roar or intensity of the storm
how severe the attack even out of the norm
i offer my hand with sincerity
aim to deal with it peacefully.
then suddenly it hits
like a swarm of locus.
a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind
my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom.
every bone stiffens,
when I move, a sound
of dead dried out forest twigs
breaking against the boots of hikers
echoes in the confined space of my skull.
i reach for a pill
slowly it dissolves
under my tongue
my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap.
i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature
depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive
...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive.
there is a deafening hush...
silently raging through the core
of my existence...still...I am humbled
by the light and the love I have witnessed
in my brief appearance...........here on Earth
there is a river...that walks at my side...
walks with me........at the same stride...
April 14 2015
Long poem by
J. W. M. Earnings | Details |
You’re like a backpack, jam-packed with memories of High School’s fun times and hard times…I know I had weaknesses back then; in addition, I had strengths that I still lack
You carry everyone’s weight including my own…you crumbled into sand and I am a stone – a waste of space and I am used to jump rivers to rivers; I wish I can have no record of wasted time, but I have to forget about it and forgive myself for downfalls
You’re like a sponge – soaking in our stress and I was that one magazine, frozen with abandonment on the magazine rack
I’m a distraction to you – you’re wasting valuable time…but don’t hesitate; come on, now – I know how it feels to feel alone, wandering around, never earning any cheerful calls
I’m writing words of self-centered feelings – logic and reason doesn’t exist in the misty midst of my frame of mind…
But these feelings aren’t as bad as committing an awful, pricey crime – I’m through with feeling guilty for crimes I’ve never committed in my life
These feelings come and go – I just had to confess
I didn’t mean to delete your progress…but, this time – I’ll make it up to you by polishing you with extra grand bliss, not another stress layer; sorry, but there’s some issues to distress
Once again, like a hurricane, you blow into my mind
Which was once filled with happy thoughts so kind
Deliver me up from drowning in the river below me…
You say you love me;
You never showed your true colors to me
I look at you suspiciously
But you ran me over with your hate
Misery…I want to change for the better of things
Blessings never fade away…away…
In my mind’s eye…I see you sway
Today, I’m alone and awake
At the break…break…break…
Of dawn…suddenly, the sweet sentiments of blissful merriness are gone
I’ll be gone…I’ll be fading to gray
I’m disappearing this sun-drenched day
You are like no other . . . the Father sends you XOXO’s
You’re like a mat – you’re constantly stepped on…with rejections and woes
I’m like YOUR unwanted tool –
I screwed up your progress and acted like a fool
Right in front of you and I Pushed your Buttons at the wrong time; you proved me wrong
‘Cause I accused you of being the guilty one, but you backed it up with proof that you were the victim all along…
Fine, I admit it – I’m the criminal by your side…
You’re drifting away, under the spell of your petrifying pleasure that disguises itself as a cure
You pushed me aside…and I felt under pressure beyond measure…you are cursed by the devil in the messed-up mirror
I closed my eyes…it’s too late – I’m corrupted and enchanted by your side
I rolled into the death cart
I realize that you’re the one I prize…I’m innocent in the eyes of many...I’ve cried
I’ve cried. I’ve cried. I’ve cried.
A river..a river……..a R.I.V.E.R.
Deliver me from bondage & my future’s a mightyyy blur
I guess deep down inside, I always knew you would (you abandoned me honestly)
Still it hurts that you left without anything good (you left me with nothing heartlessly…)
YOU finally took heart
Once upon a splendid time, my young heart broke apart
I kissed the abyss of hopelessness
I need a piece of peace right now...and maybe a fraction of your satisfaction...
R I V E R bliss...
Drowns me with ecstasy's demise
I need someone or something to save me from the endlessness of my distress
You were the gold I truly, sincerely prize
You are to my heart-and-anxiety-filled mind a wonderful blessed surprise.
You make my long lost and forgotten heart and love rise
I bleed...the stains are left on my window pane...you were my living sacrifice
Don't seek me, I'm not wise...you tore me down with oblivion and negativity…the knives in your eyes pierced me...with never-ending dread
Stabbing my heart of hope with your hurtful lies of abominable hatred…we were higher than the clouds overhead…I can’t put these racing thoughts to bed
I'll rise like a skyscraper...I won't be weighed down by gravity...
Oh no, not anymore – you won’t take away the precious tune of my heart’s melody
To say to me, carelessly, for what we were…our future was a mighty blur
Y-you left me like worthless trash – you didn't really care, I'm sure…
I’m sure there’s other fish in the sea…but, I will endure with life and try to find another cure
We were 1…whatever happened to that?
Who release the rat? Was that you, cat?
We are 2…what’s wrong with you?
Why did you lose your other shoe?
There it goes again…. ………
With those worthless excuses in your brain
Face the consequences like a wo-man & hop into the tranquility train
Refrain from driving me insane
Or I’ll drive another mysterious lane
I slammed the abominable door shut…I still remain sore – you should of not of uttered those words…now, I shed the many tears of sorrow and pain…is there any hope in store?
Long poem by
Vee Bdosa | Details |
There did they go into the cyberspace
where none but the great of heart
have ever gone before
and they did find great pleasure unto the night
for it was a time of love and understanding
and she did say it is good.
And when they did awake unto the dawn
then he did see a mass onto his shoulder
that had not ever been there before
and he was sore afraid.
Then he did say unto his mate, whose name is Mae,
what is it that has aflicted me in the night
and bonded itself onto the very body of me?
And she did reply unto her husband,
I know not.
And so they did consider the mass
and it was firm and round as a gooses egg,
yet it was of the mass that was thrice the size.
So she did lay her hands onto the mass
and did say,
is it now with pain, for I have given it a great charge?
But he did reply, nae, I feel it not.
And so they did go with the coming day,
even as the sun was high, unto his physician,
who counseled with some of his own, as to the matter.
And they did touch, and poke, and wonder
at the mass, and then they did say
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But one of physicians did ask
of what great need do you have of this arm,
and the man did reply, it is not the one
with which I write my name.
And the husband, whose name is Fred, did inquire
as to how this mass ever came to be
and so has attached itself onto me?
And there it sits, as if bad things to come.
Then his physicians did reply and say
nae, it is naught to worry about
but we can remove it if you have the desire.
And the wife did say unto the physicians,
who were with great skill in the matter,
this he does have,
so the husband did say, it is so my desire,
I have great needs that it be gone.
But the physicians did reply
it shall be taken away in twelve days,
for that is the only time
that is not already spoken for.
And so they did agree.
Now when the night came and he did lay again with his wife,
there came a great trembling from deep within
his body, and he did shake to his very toes.
And she did say, husband, why is it that you shake?
And what is it that maketh your body wet all over,
as if a rain has fallen on the very place you lay?
And he did reply, I know not.
But he was with great fear and did wonder
as to what the mass could be.
And his wife did then say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But he did think on the matter and then did say,
this must surely be as unto a sign from the maker
that my time is at hand.
Surely my life has been filled with goodness
but has brought me unto this very day.
And she did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And as the day grew near,
but was even the second day unto the removal,
the husband did worry and say some more,
my life is at an end
for the very inside of me does now quake
and my hands tremble at the sight of the mass.
Yea, mine eyes cannot bear to gaze upon it
and it has become an abomination unto my sight.
But his wife did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
Then there came onto the tube, as if an omen
and a sign unto its own,
that a man had a mass and surely it had taken him away,
as if a robber had come in the night.
And he did grieve, for the day was almost at hand,
but did go unto his physicians and did say,
see how my body is wet and trembles at its' sight?
How is it that this thing has come unto me?
And what are the tingles unto my skin
is it what cometh from a lipoma?
But the physicians did shake their heads
and then they did say
you have the stress.
And so he did wonder at what they did tell him,
and when he looked, the mass was still there.
But the physicians did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And one of the physicians said
if it is not a lipoma, the betting is off.
And then the man did return to his home
but trembled in the night.
Now when the morning did come
and the woman reached for her husband,
she found his space to be empty
and wet where he had layed.
and she did say, husband,
where is it you have gone?
But she heard not a reply.
And so she did go into the bottom of the house
where she did see him hanging from a beam
and then she did cry.
And so the constable did come, along with the scribes,
but the wife was with great grief
and did say o! that my life has such dismay
because of the lump that has taken him away.
What manner of thing has fallen to me?
And the scribe, who was to tell of the matter,
asked of her, what is it that has made you grieve?
And then the constable did say
is it the mass, that has made your husband
to end his life?
And she did say, it was a lipoma,
and it was nothing more.
....© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Long poem by
arthur vaso | Details |
Notes: I am putting the notes upfront, suicide is no laughing matter, however, anything that makes it something that can be discussed I think is a good thing. Humor really is an aid to many an illness. Note the poem starts with a reason, when someone is at the point of suicide, there is NO reason. It is an illness like any other. Also inside humor and innuendo is meaning. Enough said.
I went to the casino of love last night
I placed a bet on romantic seven
Lost all my chips, ain’t going to heaven
Broke me heart
Lowered head, I walked back to the car park
Next morning I woke up
Put a gun to my head
I can’t even win at Russian roulette
Need a change, to get away
Mending the pain or soul, some might say
Took a plane to Bengal
Ended up in beuruit
Walked right into the middle of a war or 2
Explosions all over, around me head
Thank god, soon I shall be dead
I saw a terrorist with a real mean look
I waved hello, shoot me, shoot me!!!
I am sure he would have given a chance
But someone else tossed into him a lance
Seems even in a war I can’t make myself dead
Sadly I lost at even this deadly dance
Then an explosions tossed me sky high
Was i going to heaven, was this my grand demise?
No, I landed in the sea and just on time
For a cruise ship to save me, soul and all
Off too Florida it seems
Death sure has some gall
I was walking along a sunny beach
When all of a sudden two gangs appeared
One Cuban, one Mexican, they sure looked mean
Two gangs known as killing machines
Here is me smack in the middle
My lucky day, for how could I lose
Suicide was assured, come on, you know it
I yelled to both of them
I am DEA, and I think all of you queers are very very gay
That out to get me the bullet I wish
What the hell, they all dropped their guns and surrendered
I admit I was starting to be mighty offended
So now I have this Medal of Honor
For saving a community of drugs and plunder
I just can’t win at the casino of life
I can get myself killed no matter the plight
So back home I go
What the hell
I’ll fill the bathtub
And give that a go
You think I’m bragging or boasting of death
I am serious, this will work, why drowning for sure
What could go wrong? with such a fine plan?
All I want to be is a dead dead man
So yes, I fill up the tub with water and suds
I down some pills, some booze and some bud
I am drifting off, to my purgatory bliss
When I hear an alarm the wakes me
What’a darn bitch
The buildings on fire, ok I can burn in my sorrow
Except the bathtub collapses and doses the fire
I am a loser, this is for sure
They gave me Medal of Honor again
For saving all the seniors by making it rain
I am not dead, and I am not happy
Seems I can’t accomplish
Even my death
Even this task I make a mess
Now I am curious, I have to ask
Have any readers killed themselves yet?
This tale that’s a mess, being alive is giving me stress
If not read on, it’s gonna get better
Someone I will succeed at this suicidal adventure
OK now a bridge I hear is a good place to die
Not to hard, you jump and say good bye
I can do that, doesn’t seem hard
So now I stand on a Golden Gate Bridge
Happy at last that life will be over
All of a sudden a huge shaking occurs,
An earthquake , oh lucky me maybe the bridge will collapse
Not to be and you know that now, it tosses me infront of a car
The car brakes and halts and honks its horn
Till it sees the crack in the road just up ahead
If not for me falling right right there
That car would be the one drowning in the ocean of despair
They jumped out and hugged me and kissed me with thanks
Apparently I saved an ambulance full of pre mature babies
You know what happens next, and don’t you go crying
Another Medal of Honor for me, a hero without trying!
What the hell I give up
This suicide profession is harder than you think
Hell I might as well go back to my whiskey and drinks
Live in the darkness, and pray that one day
Life has enough meaning that I wish to actually stay
So now that these ideas so dark and so deadly
I have discarded without hope, so now I will be friendly
I will join the world of human souls and laughter
Even if inside I still lack such basic character
No more silly ideas of death
I need to move on and make life the best
So off to the store, to get me some groceries
A new leaf I have turned and I confess to a smile
When I am crossing the street, I see to my horror
That I am hit by a bus, and finally no damn tomorrows
Long poem by
HINA NASIR | Details |
As darkness absorbed in my reveries, my usual lapse accommodated itself in height of melancholy but not in this conscience. Then I found myself in my room and my window opened. Everything in upheaval, a white structure, huge, marvelously at apex of my window. I in white robe swayed to it, it was moon at my window side.
It said: my and your air is full of cry and clamor, I have advanced in blackest abysses but I found your inflictions darker then so, why? I sharply spitted all skulked pains, hypnotically. I being the slave of my doctrines, told every stealthily guarded impulse, not fearing of any undignified disclosure anymore. I stretched my dreary monotony and passionately exaggerated some sentimental wailings of past. It reposed in meticulous care and said: only contentment and engaged happiness would have been an impracticable theory in this world, every being is balanced, by faults and sanity of soul, there are boundaries defined for every sense, every pleasure and grief, why do you preoccupy yourself in such petty calculations of your life?
I said: moon, you are just like me.
It asked how, I said, we both take our real selves in the darkness.
Agreed moon said: But we both shine.
I said: yes, you the white light and then my words strangled.
Moon seized the auspicious moment and corresponded: and you in your eyes shedding,
Agreed me said, there is one more thing, we both embody our abandonments, you got pierced holes in your body, while my dejection gave me an amper self. But my friend, I said to my new attested loyalty; every night you are there, out, visible, ready to receive anticipated attentions, I don’t. I just cannot make it.
Moon said in angular features; don’t appeal your agony by this agile mind.
My voice thwarted, no! It’s a righteous opinion of myself. I confine myself from the very dearest minds, as an adulated stranger, unoriginal, my friend, I execute my every desire by myself, you don’t. My acquired timidity fails me to claim my accessible pleasures.
While it accused a glance at me I said further, Moon! You do run and disappear and I don’t, I shove my existence in this perilous structure. If you’d be me and I be you, then before this presumed suicide , if you and I beeline, I in space from up there , you in my body , we both shall share some suavity of our jeopardies then.
It smiled, swiftly swelled: look, every night a star dies nears by me, every night a being twinkles at my foot , I appreciate the beauty and spin, then it dies , I grieve and hollows appears in me by these buried brutalities of my life. These are the significant truths of our lives my friend. Our lives suffer friction but don’t forget that they are prevailed by wiser counsels, and one day I and you, every being would diffuse in nothing but dust. Then there your soul would be your originality, thought it must be unexceptional but welcomed , if you passed every fraction of your life weighing your life in demerits and merits. If the indecent world violates your decency then don’t forget, your fiends would not dissolve you, but the prejudices that you hold against yourself would destroy you. There is one life, to show to act. This is the texture of man’s soul and life. Don’t try to be the victim but the ultimate verdict of tranquility, like a saint, grow on the thorn, be a flower, this is where peace and happiness would spring.
My voice stuttered, swayed my head down, as in a way accepting the just summarized by its loyal visit. A heavy and sullen silence resided, it was sufficient to soliloquy. We both felt cold and found our answers, that there are going to be no answers for our intellectual mazes, in this life, in this existence they are beheld by Him, our accumulated burdens are only to be lifted by valor, from Him. I wanted to raise my face and look at my alien splendor when just then a ray illuminated us, moon had gone and I dropped on the ground after this anomalous experience. Thrust back in the darkness of my room, closed in satiation. Like from every dream I returned in an awkward dilemma. My audible intimations with moon produced an attested loyalty in my heart. As I woke, I descended to my window, same barren view, but my heart had an appreciable relief, my sight blind to beauty was now seeing, dear ones around me, though it was late to claim the ones lost but I was wise now, enough to survive with some left love in my heart. The assembled arguments with moon had arrested my malign thoughts and my head along with the path was light now.
Long poem by
zoe scott | Details |
i found a genie in a bottle but not a golden lamp that you rub your hands on to make three wishes i found my genie in a $15 bottle of a golden liquid that gave me the courage to make my own wishes come true
my wishes were simple I didn't ask for much I just wanted a happiness that was true and to not be blue at the thought of you I wanted you to get the world because God damn it it's what you deserve
If there was such thing as magic Id use it to take away that depression that fills your head making you want to be dead and put it in mine just to show you Id do anything to see you smile again
3 wishes is what a genie gives you but infinite wishes is what jack gives you because there's no limit to your mind when your running out of time and liquor
maybe I'll get sicker and maybe I'll die but I'll be damned before I put a knife to my thigh again and have my head spin looking at the white walls and blue gown on my body because I was simply sad
this wasn't a choice and I'll use my voice to let you know how strong you are and how you did no wrong
you don't need to fret over a bitch that lied to you about a 4 letter word
16,17, & 18 year olds wonder why the world is so cold and what they did to deserve to be the kid that was looked at with pitty and only saw a smile in their own blood
Magic isn't real as much as we hope it is
the only thing that's real is the feeling of comfort when you look up suicide and realize it doesn't take much for a noose to be tied and drop from the sealing like the way your heart drops to your stomach every time you see the person that broke you
maybe my wishes will come true in a pill or pipe if it stops the fear I have of myself and what I know im capable of because I know I don't want to die but it's the only thought that fills my mind when it's midnight and you haven't replied
rubbing a bottle isn't enough because one shot two shot three shot four and I still find myself laying on the floor making a list of wishes and wants that haven't come true
I can feel my body going numb to the pain and it's driving me insane but maybe that's a good thing because im starting to forget the pain in my heart when I remember what you did to yourself after that bitch that wore your jacket broke your heart or the bitch that you spent 2 damn years with fucked your best friend or that bitch with the three letter name that showed you nothing would be the same after your first heart break or that bitch with the Twitter fame even though she had nothing to her name
they say those who don't believe in magic will never find it but how can I believe when the world has done nothing but deceive me and show me a world that's kind of disturbed but in a beautiful sense of mind
it's like im in some kind of wonderland like when Alice fell down the rabbit hole and realized her nightmare was a reality and couldn't use magic to roll a dice and fix her life
if I have to wear a mask to hide this pain and keep you from seeing im insane then that's what I'll do because as much as I wish this would this would go away I know my demons are here to stay and will stop at nothing till im screaming my last breath saying "I wish this was over"
And I know it makes sense but it's like sand in my eyes
Maybe I was meant to be left behind
maybe my wishes weren't meant to come true because if magic were real why do I feel like when I die everything they promised is a lie there won't be a magic man in the sky to show me everything I went through was for a purpose because why the hell did I deserve to hurt like this
why did my best friend abuse pills to try to kill her pain
why did my best friend take a knife to his thigh and draw a beautiful design in his strife
why did my best friend put a gun to his head all because some stupid bitch broke his ever aching heart and left it for dead
why did my best friend cry every time he saw the name that made him want to die
why did my mom try to kill her self for 6 years straight because her dad raped her for years and left tears in her eyes that you can see every time you look at her
if i could wish for one god damn thing in this hell bound life just one god damn thing Id take back the night I put a blade to my heart and traced circles around the spot where it should be beating and puncture it to find a feeling of what is true till my faced turned blue and with my last breath smile because i would've gotten the one thing I've always wished for
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way…
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.
The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways…
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…