The tortured soul will never let go
When off the tongue the words will roll
At all hours never knowing when inspiration will hit
Thoughts running wild, then bridled with a bit
When ruminating on your bed
Tossing around words that rhyme in your head
All the rights that are wronged
Need to be corrected and not prolonged
So you fight in the night
In the realm where we rhyme
No notice (of the lover next to you) or of the time
Are you in believing grieving
Or are you one who's seething with no meaning
When your soul is tortured in the night
Fighting to find the right words and the perfect rhyme
Imploring the sun, imploring daylight
Awake my soul, awake to the mundaneness of life
Wishes
Hot air of the mouth
Desires
Baseless notions riddled with doubt
I wait for you
I watch for you
Brave in life, coward in love
Send me a sign
Beacon of life from Above
And so is Below
Where feelings fester and grow
Beneath the surface of something intangible
Beneath the truth is forbidden fruit
Beneath my smile is longing for you
Beneath my joy are desires untold
Beneath my skulls fantasies unfold
How I long
How I wait
Another helping on my dinner plate
The indulgence, the greedy
This want, lust consumes me
Or is it love?
I ask of nothing
I expect even less
I sit in silent stress
Your life flows by
No but I'm waiting, watching
Hand in hand with time
As a patient soul, one could argue it is fate
One could argue I deserve another helping on my dinner plate
Or one could not
One could decide it is my time to wait and rot
One could accuse me of the greatest sin of all
Expecting the love of another without showing mine
I stall.
Memories are fickle things
They seem to love to torture
When you desperately just want to forget
Seems memory's fruitage is an orchard
They can seemingly come from anywhere
But they don't need to be regretted
They should still be remembered fondly
Not bemoaned, erased, or fretted
Because if memories were cheating
No one could be loyal
Just because something comes to mind
Doesn't mean your love is foiled
You can smell a smell or see a sight
Even hear a familiar tune
But none of thats a problem
Because he will still love you
So don't hate yourself for your memories
Your love's no passing fad
You can still be loyal to each other
And be grateful for what we had
Loving someone new was never so torturous
Moving on but my face is still gray
Reeling at night, smiling in daytime
Desertion from you still haunts my midnight
Thought that love would make its grand return
But the lingering sadness over-weigh my fervor wishes
The fleeting feeling of love
But it failed to turn gray into a blue world
She hated herself there’s no denying that
As God’s favourite chastened child
Bearing the burden of betrayal
And a heavy heart filled with sorrow
In her sombre world
Where light doesn’t penetrate the walls
Penalized for her sins
Waiting for the gallows to pull in
And bring her dim life story to the end
A tortured soul never touched with genuine love
Appreciated or treasured
The curtains will fall
On the lie, she has been living for so long
Then may her soul rest in peace.
i feel tortured in winter, the fog reminds me of good times,
when my gray world turned to pink
i feel tortured in autumn, a season spent missing someone, a total love blackout
i feel tortured in summer, a summer meant to be full of love turned to gray
i feel tortured to see rain, it reminds me of weeping nights and when i was in pain
a tortured poet and his tortured seasons
a tortured poet forced to be tortured by torturous peoples because of their torturous sin
a question why did i associated my memories
and made my seasons tortured ?
The nightly rattle heard down the hall,
The shadow form of a man stands tall.
The sound of chains strike fear to my heart.
His chance long past, he cannot depart.
Seeking my soul, he desires my fall.
His pain, I can feel, for after all,
He heeded not Heaven's urgent call,
But let his anguished form to impart
The forever torture of rattling chains.
The nightly rattle heard down the hall
Plays with my mind's sense of rationale.
Are eyes weary, or do shadows dart
To whittle the years on my life's chart?
Soulless, he yearns for the sensual,
Yet--
The forever torture of rattling chains.
"Who Am I"
Voices in my head the unheard of
They mimic, they pester, they lie
All to just torture my mind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
I question I can no longer answer
They've erased Me, Myself and I
Changed into the hopeless, heartless, unkind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Someone now just a faint memory
Lost somewhere forever but did I die
Did I turn tail with yellow spine
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
From the torture cocoon to robotic host
Manipulated, Influenced, Punished but why?
They see through my eyes while I'm blind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Definitely not this important of a man
Given mental beatings if I try...to defy...
The skin of their evil, zombified defined
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Twenty-four hours every single day
Twenty-four hours every single night
Twenty-four hours of a continual tortured mind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Because I do not even exist anymore
bmdavey@ 09/09/24
For Taylor Swift
Is that what we are?
Tortured Poets
It has a ring
of truth to it
We have a close
relationship to
our emotions,
understand that
life is suffering
as the Buddhists
would contemplate
Interesting that a
Mega Star would
realize this- - - - -
Get It
It goes to the
depth of her character
She's an enlightened being
that also creates
great Music- - - - - Love It!
Dear God
What more do
you want from me
the Brain You
gave me wants
me dead
Dear God
I dont Know
What more to do
I'm tired
I don’t have it
In me anymore
Dear God
Please just take me
Bring me home
I can’t take
The pain anymore
Dear God
Do you even
Exist
I don’t know any more
I don’t feel you
Like I use to
Dear God
I’m tired
I can’t fight anymore
Please if you exist
Just take me home
I don’t want to breath anymore
Dear God
Release me please
Sign
The torture soul
Interrogated, tortured
And killed (dissolved in acid)
Just the way
The Government had willed and ordered.
An oppositional voice
Finally stilled.
On the home soil
His blood was spilled.
Exposing the cruelty of our government
And their sick agents
Who hatched such a heartless plot.
At the announcement of your presence
My blood ran like the sounds of hell were chasing them
Causing my heart to beat faster out of fear
Yet, at the sight of your handsomeness
My soul suddenly becomes peaceful
At the sound of your voice
Like in the midst of the sounds of angels
My heart rejoices
As though it were listening to the song of the angels
Little did I know I would soon be engulfed in perilous darkness
That your mischievous smile
Will soon turn a burning frown
That those hands, soothing as soft clouds
Will soon descend upon my face
Turn my sexy lingerie into rags
And leave painful marks all over my erogenous zones
I am left to wonder everyday
What changed?
Because…
You are definitely not the man I married
The tortured Poet
Expresses only that which they truly believe
No matter how hard
That truth is to accept
Or to tell
As the truth is hard
Sometimes may even be taken
And misinterpreted as a lack of care
Whereas a poet who paints pictures
Unto others about hope and the joy of life
Personally to me are choosing to be rather a
Non believer
Of reality as it exists
And if that makes or helps them in anyway
I for 1 am sincerely happy for them
The only problem I have
Is that leading other people in into believing
That everything in the end will be okay
Will only be a temporary release
But 1 day in the future
They will find out to their own cost
Much like a credit card
There is interest to pay on top
All you have done is put off
Paying for something which is going
To cost you more and will only end up
Regretting why you didn't just
Get it out of the way and done with them
And leave you hoping and thinking
You have learned your lesson
So you don't make the same mistake again
I am not a Poet
I know this fact true and full well
In the orthodox conventional literal way
As I am not able to use set standard form
So what I write
Therefore does not conform
So I agree wholeheartedly not disagree
Technically I am not a Poet
All I am is simply someone who
Likes to write and comment about things
That don't necessarily fit any set remit
But yet I still want to have a go
So I end up having to encroach
And impose and join in other ways
And blur the lines and rules of engagement
Because although I may not be a poet
1 thing I can admit is this
I suffer through my words
Like any tortured Poet would
As to me writing is more about
Exposure of one's true self soul and heart
Than a form of compliance to an art
If that stifles my openness and integrity
And does not keep my demons at bay
Rather lets them lie in wait
And my silence further leads onto
Yet more inevitable tortured mistakes
We are the helpless, tortured by the blazing Sun,
Tormented by the rain that floods the land,
Persecuted by pain forever knocking at the door,
Every time we walk there is a tight rope
Stretched between the ordinary and fear of the unknown.
Each day we tackle the impenetrable snow ,
Starvation, Crime and War,
The estrangement of men and women.
A coupling that destroys the soul of both parties.
The unwanted child tortured by a lonely mother,
We want knowing we will never receive.
Wanting is a torture because we always want more.
And in the end Death is racing towards us with a knife in his hand.
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