poet
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I am a poet
I sprinkle hearts
With verses, flowers
Rhymes and kisses
In front of this mute
Beauty
Which moves away
And that I ogle
Oh! Woman
Madam
I am a writer, and I put my hands to writing.
I train my hands in the ways of warriors.
When enemies come looking for a fight,
I give them a war.
I train my hands in the ways of farmers.
I am a writer, and I put my hands to writing.
I train my hands in the ways of warriors.
When enemies come looking for a fight,
I give them a war.
I train my hands in the ways of farmers.
Some folks see her in the window,
just a shadow standing there.
Some folks hear her in the morning
when she sings her daily prayer,
but they’ve never really met her
and she likes it just that way.
When just a child the poet's mom said "Son,Throughout your life beware the sin of pride.Remember this when every day is done,What counts the most is who you are inside.".
It took me too long to realize,
too late in my life to learn
why my heart is so fickle,
why my heart is so rash,
so melancholy
or boisterous,
so timid yet unapologetically loud.
Today I wasn’t feeling like a poet
Today I didn’t feel good enough to be called one
Today I wrote about death
Today I wrote about death and hated what I saw so I hid the words.
I hid the words and let them die
This is father’s speech
( Seshendra Sharma
at “ Meet the author Program “ jointly organised
by India International Centre and Sahitya Akademi : New Delhi
on 05. 12. 1995 -------
The meanest trick I ever knew
Was the one you nor I would ever do.
I saw a Grugnax try to do it,
And there was nothing funny to it.
I craved words that could explain what I was feeling
I searched for the comfort that I desperately needed
And when I couldn’t find it in any novel, or poem, or song,
I wrote poems for you
And you didn't appreciate it,
I made another one just for you
But then again,you've ignored it.
When my muse ingnitesVerse that excitesThen you have meDead to rights—I'm a poet!.
.© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
I know writers say
Love can happen twice
But what if the
love never really happens ?
What if the emotion we thought
I made you up
When I was a lonely kid,
You never talked to me
But you always listened,
When I was crying
You’d be there with me,
2020 came with an attitude
Can you feel its magnitude?
Far & wide, longitude, latitude
I guess we are all screwed
My physical body aches
Terribly as it resonates through my bones like a chord plucked on worn acoustic guitar strings
I beg for the release of the metallic chains of my inability to see beyond the depths of my own soul
A soul met another soul..
There is a vibe, in mind & body whole..
A bright smile after decades...
I begin to come out of the darker shades..,,
dear girl
you are not alone
whatever fight you are fighting
has been fought by so many before
dear boy
Hard to say goodbye to you
But this is the only word, that I can say to you
After all the happiness and tears with you all along
A big step in my life that I have to do
Letting you go away in my life
gay before they made it
calm before it quaked
so there i like to save em
call me luv, call me anything.,
today, on this super full moon
i am fire.,
i claim boldly my request desire:
I am a poet
No one particularly special
But someone with a love for words
I am a poet
I write not too many words,
“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through
Waking up to my truths - even the flaws are gorgeous
I get obsessive and I get insecure. Sometimes I find myself unbalanced, quickly unraveling at the folds.
I may occasionally lose touch, or fall out of love.
Radical Self Acceptance
You are of my kind,
Uniquely divine,
A different breed of beautiful unlike anyone
I have ever seen
Clothed in angel energy;
Beam and radiate fully now
don’t fall in love with a poet,
they will see your words as figure of speech
you will become the main subject in
the poem they write at 7am,
5pm,
or 2am
they will use what you make them feel
Where can I find serenity if you are gone from me,
It’s as if darkness and death have clashed to see where to flee.
Hideously loning for thy beauty and perfection I want to see,
Ensnare this crumpled heart in pain of me.
Was always scared to talkHardly ever showed my emotionsHated being called on duringclass in fear of being wrong
Was always scared to talkHardly ever showed my emotionsHated being called on duringclass in fear of being wrong
She went back to her room where her favorite song was just ending at the best part.
The little twinkles that faded with a high D flat that made her emotions fall apart.
Today is frozen
in blue and white
we live to stall
upon a blank page
This picture, now
a photograph
In black and white
They called her a writer.
A witch.
A Manipulator of words.
Etching them into corners,
Onto walls,
Abandoned buildings,
Cálidas fueron las noches que grabé ayer.cálidos y también sonrientes,blanco como la espuma,tan frio como la arena,¿Estás listo para soñar?Oh!
my body wears
a pattern of scars
as intricate as expensive lace.
my body is branded
by beautiful tattoos
of none other
than that of pain.
my body refuses
to be physically marked
I weakened myself for you.
You stuck three nails in my chest
Making it hard for me to breath.
You heard me crying out for help but you acted like you could not hear.
No words just letters
And pressure
The poetry is concerning
The feeling is burning
My feelings just turning.... around
The poetry is bringing me down am trying to surpass him,who? the man am talking too
I’m searching for you in constellations you once told me about
Under the starry night sky
Because I have dreamt of you with the stars.
You remind me of the milky way and more galaxies
held in your arms,
i am delicate
im wrapped in the
warmth of you
i can hear your
heart beating
and oh god the smell of you
is my favorite scent to smell.
your arms hold me close
This, this is poetry, the abstract sitting beside me, like a long lost friend exchanging thoughtful memories while Discarded thoughts of tomorrow sit like old men, forgetting themselves over the horizon remaining just beyond the water's edge remin
Poetry has taught me to be free,To be completely me,Poetry told me, "Don't worry about this or that."Poetry whispered in my ear and said,
We sing like Rain
We scream like Thunder
We shine Like lightning hitting the Crashing Waves
We Mourn like the Storm finally calming itself
We are gloom like the grey Skyies after a Hurricane
The poet's dead, the song is gone.
With dying breath and failing brawn,
He whispers a foreboding phrase:
"The nights are spent, you waste your days."
Dear Darkness,
We meet again in this tragic abyss. It feels just like my lost lovers kiss.
Once again, the air grows hauntingly thin. Take your pride in some fools grin.
they say that in order for someone to
live,
someone must
die.
and now i must know.
who was the one who
died
I shall be sparseas shallow as our oldbeaver pond aftera dry parched summer.
I will not let you inyour sole intention is tofeed your own desperateand dark desires.
T'was once before the break of day when in the silence of a stored cachethere upon my memories ladder one ring above a thought came afterwhat was once so fine, so well placed, now lay defeated and disgraced
Fresh,a slip of tonguean adolescent impulse.Later he will learn notto say what he means,when he dims to mellow.
He pretended he believed her
She did the same
Reciprocating impulses
push away, then suddenly contract.
When two worlds collide
new stars are birthed.
In the ashes of a post explosion
She was the wind's breath
alive and moving
with grace, a sweet slide
across the room.
When she kissed me
the world went away
but, like the sea
she too could roar.
The earth quakes in thunder claps
a hapless dressing for a proud sun
melting clouds enough for rain.
One is born, another dies
a constant neverland of never come again.
There are no great hills in Kenilworth
where grassy girls give fruitful birth
born from men of stately girth
I have been to Kenilworth
I have been to far worse
and back again upon a shore
Last night I saw you in a neon dream
all lit up in a throw back scene
the streets were wet in reflective haze
where the truth is shadowed
by the fire's blaze.
We talked of prized cheese
as if cheese was our master
in the great disaster of us,
Then mind spent, W(H)INE spent
on dreams only a fool would leave behind
we passed our own tests on our own
It was as much a hinder as a clatter
a soft splatter of broken love
delicious melted caramel
on creamy lips of summer fog.
I do not forget her of hers
a fine progression of my past;
I have seen the splintered timbers of a forest losing pine, waiting ona fire to carbonate its time.
I know I am chemicals reacting to their tidesbut my mind it overulesa simpleton's design.
Like some provincial rain that came crisp
from latent springs sprung too tight
stored energy fast relinquished
down a sliding sun into new light
In the piercing heatof the unfolding daywe set sails for Avalon.
Guided by winds wetested our fate, provingit was fragile in thedesperate side-by-sideof our changing lives.
Some came to satisfy their queer attractionto be close to something deadthat draws such loud attention
Tidal changes of this floating heartwhen to stop, when to start?My pulse expands my waking mind.
She was lightheartedlike a feather in soft windsI was playing throw and catchwith girls still growing breasts.
He danced the Mapiko while stary-eyed
women looked on in fear
and lust.......unashamed
walking the dusty streets
searching for a cuandeiros
the dengue fever pitched
to the blazing ball of sun
To overcome others is strong.To overcome oneself is the will of power. I try to convince myselfThat I am the best actress to ever walk the earth,And that the hole concaving in my chestIs simply a understudy for my sadness. To overcome others is
Dear whoever has picked this up. Life is as though seasons of the weather. Constantly changing.Snow melting as our tears of exhilaration and melancholy.
This poem is a vulnerable exposure of some of my life's struggles. Please let me know if you enjoy it and follow me on social media!
Facebook: /eternityspoet
IG: @eternityspoet
MY MY MY HOW BEAUTIFUL AM I..
I TAKE PRIDE IN STRIDE..
I CARRY MY STRENGTH LIKE I CARRY MYSELF...
EVERYDAY ALL DAY I THANK THE MOST HIGH IF I DONT DO NOTHING ELSE .. -ANGEL
For all these years,
Thin like organdy,
I’ve wandered under
Some sickly guise
Some sickly guise
That I hailed as an apex of truth
First.....you don't want it to end
Then realize, in those eyes, what you
See is pretend
And you believed you were friends
Till she leaves you again
You beg and plead, and say she's all
You need
I was cut off from you,
Though this was nothing new.
I knew it was bound to happen one day
For I was just a pawn to play.
You used me for your own pleasure,
And I thought you prized me as your treasure.
I am happy for I have dream
To meet my faultless princess
Where my shackle eye’s will be hung for you
Because only you gave me glamorous life
Once upon a ti—
Wait.
We all know how this story goes,
A damsel seemingly in distress,
begging for help
though pleas never fell from her lips,
for she is independent.
From the Boiling Point
In the Glory of Morning
Faced with a Stairway to Heaven
We Travel with Gulliver
In Overland Trucks
None shall be caught in Hades’ Toilet Bowl
For we feed on manna
My words tend to be abrasive
sometimes abusive.
They are painful and will wear you down
it’s like sandpaper versus toilet paper
When Afrika is seen not heard
All mothers mewl for they are so
With Afrika portrayed absurd
A father’s place is soon let go
While Afrika by fools is tamed
That brother hunts for joy with lead
I have orated to the lay
about the dangers of AIDS
& how every books page
brings you a step closer to getting paid
I have recited to the rich
about a large poverty ditch
I make music for talk radio
Sounds which bring a sting
You better get strapped in
this is strictly poetry
You’ll find no sixteen bar forms
or punch line platforms
and I’m still the illest poet
Little miss reddy
Momma told her get ready
Grab her basket in handy
So she could go see her granny
She was feeling so canny
A lot of food she had plenty
Once upon a time there lived a belle.
Who could not withstand living in a world which seemed as a forbidden hell;
So she wept and slept the suffering away--
Her name was sleeping beauty.
They called me a monster,
They called me a witch.
They called me a hypocrite,
A bully, a snitch.
They called her beautiful,
A sight to be seen.
More beautiful than any,
nothing can bring me peace
here in the dark
I am dying
but the light lives
that much is evident
seen through shuttered windows
A friend asked me how to be a writer.I wanted to say,lock yourself in a room,scream until you have a poem and no voice.Open your veins and bleed until you know that your bones
My soul is like a peace of paper; white and light and soft and new.
My friends are like the pages; close enough to feel the pain, but like a page they too can turn away, who new.
“Venting Session”
Let’s talk, No WAIT!
I meant
Let me vent
Pour me a shot
I lost myself trying to find myself
In the process, I became someone else
I thought I knew me but the closer I saught the farther it got me
In the end I always knew who I was but I didn't notice
it felt as though his words danced in my ear
his wit sparked interest and showed no fear
always in awe, i would listen without doubt
that my own thoughts soon would sprout
every moment a new subject would brighten
I crave to adore you when your at your worst
Share a love that can not be dispersed
I crave to be held close to your chest as my head lay to rest
“Poet, breathe now.”
Adam Gottlieb’s words soon stuck in my head.
“Louder Than a Bomb” sketched in my notebook.
Poetry.
Enthusiasm from those slammers on stage.
To be a poet is to be a representative
of myself, my community, my world.
To be a poet is to be a loud voice
through words on a page
To be a poet is to be individual,
speaking my own truth and no one else's.
So very few people
Know how to convey
The making of this world,
I have learned to write when I'm hurt.
I have learned to write when I mourn.
I have learned to write creatively to express emotions.
All this writing is part of my devotion.
Devotion to become a poet.
I am not a poet,
And when I do I try,
I put myself down,
And give up every time.
I am not a poet,
Though I would like to be.
I find I can never express
My feelings accurately.
Written once, by a man of a famous name,
Were words that love could not tame,
For behind the curtain his words came,
And then Hamlet would cry out, even when lame,
Take hold of thy pen,
Crawl within my den,
The world appears free,
For the beholder is me,
I caress the page with my wants,
No sour stranger can ever taunt,
In the world of love and poetry,
simple yet perplexing
difficult to procure yet comes with ease
borrow my sight for a second....
I'll borrow yours
ideas clashing, ideas intertwining
shackles broken, minds freed
a true menace to the tyrant
Dear Poetry, my old friend
Here is a little story of how we began
When times were tough, I was too
Because I began to write you
I put my pen to that paper and poured it out
I traded in my Nike’s for the open mics
Those early Saturday morning 6 o'clocks for them 7s ate my priorities I had to trade them in for
When a poet is born, change is born
Ideas meant to inspire are born
I am a poet through song
I tell my stories, and those of others
I write messages meant to be openly interpreted
I'm not much of a creative writer.
I'm not a genius, and I'm not a fighter.
Just an average student on break going day by day,
Missing the plentiful dining hall buffet.
I sleep all day like a newborn baby,
The day that my mind became too full with running thoughts
The day that my heart seemed to ooze from its physical being into the empty crevices of my body
I am from my past.
I am from memories.
I am from days faded, and
from nights never ending.
I am from food coloring,
from basement swings;
feet not grazing the ground.
Experience, tragedy , and Drama make the best poetry add a few hyperboles and descriptive words expressing what happened and shit you're a poet drawing in audiences reeling them in to take this trip with you up and down emotions gi
Moon turns to meet
the sun when the
sky turns dark at
night to begin to
Change of power in the sky
of the moon that looks
like a big eye out of space.
The walk that made
my face shack with
happy in the eyes
of children playing
to gather with Joy
for the furture to
come.
Many think they know who I am,
But the truth is you don't.
For starters my name is Akeylah Giles.
Many know me as the girl with a Big voice,
Anxiety, depression,
An undiagnosed disease.
Hiding under smiles and laughs
So nobody saw me.
Twelve years-old and so confused
By the media displays.
I tried to be just like them
Poetry never came to me till I was around the age of thirteenI use to write, write, write rhymes thinking I was a MC.I never could put the lyrics to instrumentals because I wrote to no music just used my instant mental.That's when it became just m
im familiar with burning
my mother is a smoking confessional
who has swallowed a shipload of sins
her lungs are gas chambers
she smokes so much
Here's to me
Some people slam doors,
I slam poems. You judge
the box,
I open it.
Reality
presses against the walls,
I want the alternative.
To the times I've messed up.
All I need is success, this means I want to succeed. In whatever I do, I want to make sure I can make a difference. I would say all I need is poetry but I’m pretty sure you knew that already.
I am not a poet
I am just poetic,
every scribbled letter from an aching hand,
every smudge of blue ink on a crinkled page
is remembrance,
experiences of metrical saddness
and symbolism of my existence
Don't panic, our blue planet's a wonderful placeDreamers, we live, we fly, we soar, we singUnlike the desolate rest of outer spaceAlthough all curious wonders always bring.
My mind of youth, days of past so confused so deluded.
Unknown grounds rocky roads, departed souls.
Entwined in a world of poisonus minds, Life's trap door tryna fade the pain..The pain of life, life's pain plan.
Cpl Robert Lin Cook USMC
In his 300 plus poems.
Wrote about what we wore.
And what we carried.
But more important.
He wrote about what Marines
Are all about,;
Broke Boy's Dream
Money for college is a broke boy’s dream
I only have money for things I need
I’m not writing this for a good college fling
But for my education and that’s what I’m going to achieve
I like the poems of yesteryearThe poems of ‘twas, and yon, and ere,The poems whose ol’ archaic tongueWas in its prime, and lo, e’er young.Their tales were spun of days of yore
and all the cannibalistic bullets trapped n digging through the fox hole
cant stop me from letting my silence speak to you
cause when words hit you dont hear a sound.
He smiled with a frown
whilst discipline is an empty bottle of sorrow
we all drown
even if we could reach and grab the hand of air
it wouldnt matter because most would seem it to be dirty
Marigold sunset
An incredible red, rosy as your venomous lips.
Parting to greet whatever sickness you allow,
Inhale toxicity, exhale plasticity.
I honestly,
Thought for you.
No,
Not of you.
For
You.
I thought if I put myself,
In your head
That,
It would be easier to get
An answer.
It was.
It so was.
One thousand empty chairs
stretch to stage
she meets my face
and suddenly it's noon, i'm
staring in the mirror
: a distorted reflection
two people two strangers
I want to tell you a story about a girl. This girl was beautiful. She was skinny. She was everything you would want to be. But she wasn't happy. A frown was permanently etched on her face it seemed. This beautiful skinny girl once was happy.
I don't write for them
The world is not my audience
These lines are not gems
Poetry is not a science
We're space-candy mannequins,
just suckers for human sin.
Count to three, it's a jawbreaker world;
only sweet until it's gone
and you're left with that ache in the maw.
I'm a space-candy mannequin,
I'm addicted to beauty,
Addicted to destruction.
I'm addicted to pieces and broken things
Because I'm trying to find my "whole".
I'm addicted to the sunrise,
And to the moonrise,
Quiet,
I sit and take in the world,
spinning in drifts
-- golden flecks of ash—
a cloud of shimmering possibilities shade my reality.
My words here have so many harmonics
Always shifting like the earths plate tectonics
Hustling and bustling like the busy streets of New York
The sound so thick it could be eaten with a fork
WHO’S FLAWLESS?
Flawless because I’m contempt with the person I am / becoming.
Flawless because I’m eighteen proud and gay.
I am the problematic child.
My skin is the skin that God put me in on the day that was the day of the 17th in the month of November the year being the one-thousand nine-hundred nintey-seventh year Anno Domini....
What is a poet?
is it someone that no it?
a poet is said to write and read.
with rhymes that scoundrel and grows,
catchy but meaningful.
Is that a poet?
no my friends, it is not
Because you must know, I love my work
I love my work until I start to read it
I start to read and I only frown
I only frown for I fear it’s no good
Fear it’s no good to other people
I write when I'm sad,
I write when I mad,
I write when the sun shines,
or pouring cats and dogs outside.
I write when I have something to say,
or nothing at all.
I write on my wrists
the lies that were told.
I draw picture of
the love that was untold.
I imagined meanings
that never came true.
I wrote You.
I drew You.
I imagined You..
I am aware that
this is precisely
the
one
poet that
would not chase away
the human
who
binds us
to
speak
you all are so self inclined
like your strugles are any worse than mine.
like you could be any greater than me,
just because you wrote your feelings in lines?
Oh, how wonderful it must be,
After being continuously exposed to my
Cool exterior,
No one would ever guess of the
Monsters
Inside my innermost being.
After looking into my bright eyes,
No one would dare consider
I can rhyme words without a rhythmbut as soon as I try, I lose the feeling.So I’ve learned to let them flow,let ‘em rolloff my tongue - or in this case my pen -
I just want to make a name for myself, a passion to support myself.
This shy soul has words never spoken before, In my mirror these words are constantly repeated, "You're so much more."
I said i'm going to rise to the top of the mountain....wait wait wait...
I said I'm going to rise to the top of the mountain.
Stand on this stage declaring my Name,say.
Because I am a king, ayee.
THE REAL HER UNEDITED!!
Once a pon a time
From as far back as i could remember there was a girl
If we knew then what we know nowThat there were worms in their teaThat woes and headaches awaited usAt the end of the road beyond the seasWe would have pleated our dreams at home.
I hide unsatisfied behind, this shield of mine scared of the world, hoping one day to be that kid that finally comes from the her shadows, im just a girl running away from her fears, hoping that these fears won't turn into tears.
transportation vacation out side of reality within a box that encases me sound proof aloof in the space that embraces me
This is not a poem
Because I am not a poet
A poet is a blacksmith who can craft my soul into words
A line into something I feel
A poet dips their pen into the inky darkness of the night sky
you cannot go
anywhere
without finding something
that floods your veins
you cannot look at
anyone
without wondering
if their family is dysfunctional
There are not enough words in the
languages of this world to tell you how much I Love You.
I look for you in every face on the street
in every second guess
in the way my breath catches
Every
Time
The world ahead is not yet known
unwritten futures, soundless time
The world ahead is out of focus
fuzzy shapes, colors blurred
The world ahead is out of reach
What's the reason for all this madness
All these pensive thoughts
And there's no reason for this sadness
I feel as if the world is turning in my thoughts and my brain is the axis
Human; my thoughts are lost in a void of too many voices
My soul’s deepest cry is clouded by a child’s tantrum
I am a mute in a world built upon thunderous noises
As a human, I’m slowly dispelling into oblivion
The feeling at hand brings on trouble and issues that I cannot stand
It changes my plans and unfortunately, I cannot fuflll its demands
I cannot grasp or understand, but I am only aware of how I'm in a jam
Infants, toddlers, new-borns
*Cutest wittle cheeks I’ve ever seen!*
BABIES.
They were the last two of the sweetest and most ripe apples
From the tree whose roots lay the foundation of mankind
Social Media
Facebook -
Making a page that will deliberately describe what I want to say.
As I walk down the street I here the vibration of the feet
The feet of the enemy
The enemy that's killing me
killing me constantly as the world reminds me of thee
Jealousy is the enemy
That get into me
That cause anger . Pain. And envy
Makes you feel so empty to the world
Trying to Live life in the world
But stuck in an underworld
Trapped by your heart
Everyday there's a crime in the body...
The killer strikes on whoever it needs
Never gives you a sign on the next person it feeds
When hurt or failed or pressured it bleeds
Bleeds the emotions that cause you to die
Only thought It would be a typical night going to the store
Some candy and tea nothing less nothing more.
Hoodie on. Innocent as ever. With racism as the weather.
Step step run . Someone's trying to pull the trigger of the gun. Trying to shot your happiness and joy.
The gun of jealousness. The gun of hate
The gun that trys to ruin your fate.. but if you turn around and try to ignore it
When the Earth was created and the humans were made. God created a thing called feelings. And as in every fairytale there's always an enemy . This enemy is called hurt He goes around prancing up and down killing joy as it was a passion of fate.
When the Earth was created and the humans were made. God created a thing called feelings. And as in every fairytale there's always an enemy . This enemy is called hurt He goes around prancing up and down killing joy as it was a passion of fate.
Pain is A choice Made by your spirit of mind It's a state of your heart that crush your spine Into a puzzle so confusing it takes some time Like a sunny day but it always rain It comes when you least expect it Find your weakness See if you have f
It ain't worth it if its too easy If she confess out her love then the meaning is measly Getting her attention physical and mentally As people we sometimes suffer the thorns of a rose just to enjoy an intimate emotion Some give there selves up li
Sometimes I wonder about this black mask wrapped around my skull like Hawthorne describes in the black veil I tried to hide my sin over the years but it reappeared like a dark spell Sick of the ignorance and regret of my life that I just don't fe
Wam, bam, this WORLD is oursThey told us we couldn't do but they were liarsTo express ourselves through jewelry and clothesTo finally be able to take a load off and be oneself
Sometimes,
letting go seems necessary,
like I have no other choice
but to let my fears and problems-
swallow me whole.
Sometimes,
I'd look in the mirror
and study myself hard,
I can’ t paint with a brush that well,
But I know how to paint with a pen and an ink well.
My words form pictures that pictures themselves couldn’t describe.
Your photograph may be worth 1000 words.
When I look
at their faces,
Drenched in perfection,
When I flip the pages,
I look into their eyes,
like they're masked in disguise,
they look so ideal,
This cannot be real,
I'm stuck in a place that is good for me,
It sucks, its hell ,it's weak to me.
Academics are great, and so is the school,
But the people all here act like a fool.
I go to a school that's a hidden gem
cold, crisp air
the night sky, a navy bluefabric
specled with tiny dimonds streatching across the horizon
your chest firm and warm
on my chapped cheek chat presses against it
High hopes, big dreams all to extol my King. He's radiant in exhilarating splendor. His majesty fills creation. I'm caught up when I hear Him whisper I love you.
you hear it all whether its hurtful or not
it seems like you cant handle it
so it comes back to haunt you
you continue to hurt
never showing any emotion
hiding it all on the inside
You have me chained to your wall,
mouth dry like desert sand
but all I can do I wish for the pleasure
you give by torture
the pressure of your thumbs
making indentations in the soft skin on my neck
Look into this mirrorAsk me what I seeThe answer could be really simple,I see me! Only the outside; just what everybody else sees
She was built of fantasy,
Of words and lyrics and prose.
She spent life dreaming
And never arose.
Her family told her
She was taking too big a chance.
If she jumped, she would fall,
You’re put into groups of those who are supposed
To shut up and keep their heads down.
You’re asked to “speak up” when spoken to
And when you do without asking
They tell you to “quiet down”
When he says you’re beautiful deny it.
Do not be defiant and tell your mother that organized religion isn’t for you and you won’t be going to church anymore.
Evil Eyes darkened a mischievous faceOn the other end so heavenly in its placeLike your favorite ice cream flavor wasting away in the hot sunSo innocent and pure until life had really begun
Sh! t you can’t say to your teacher!
Dearest teacher,
Can you please learn to put in your grades on time?
I don’t care that you have a wife
First day of high-school and you are roaming the halls
There is no one around, no one to call.
You hear the popular girls laughing at you to your right
But you don't even care, they dont even bite.
With wings of ash darkness hides me
Shadows glisten on my feathers
Burroughs, dusk, and no where near dawn
Creatures scrambling to find shelter fromthose that wait and watch for the next victim
Dear Audience.. Hear me now.. In case I can’t speak tomorrow.. You see sorrow.. And follow as sharks inside of water.. When they see blood... Of some one claimed to be crippled... Their perfectly well... Perfectly fine... Well in mine.. Etc... For
Falling, flying, down
Towards the ground I go
wheeling, spinning, there
I see far down below,
Coming up fast, and splat.
I'll hold you through the night.
For hours, in everyday, in every week.
Til It gets cold, alright.
No words would be right
Just hands to back, to get you geeked
I'll hold you through the night.
It's a dark corner subdued in my head
Alwasy telling me to put myself to bed
It's like a sky with many black holes
Endlessly counting the many souls they stole
A sense of direction lost within time
Your knoweldge of the world is high
But is that a reason to undermind me?
Just because I dont understand the material
doesnt mean I cant see
I know you have a Bachelor Degree
Maybe even a Masters
I am…
The rainbow
is contained within
dark brown wood and a million colors.
Yet I am just one color.
Quiet, alone,
yet surrounded
by others.
I sit on that
Scarcely tall but never short, Brown and green or white topped black. These giants look as if alert, To the changes and echoes of the world. Go hiking, camping or on a ride, The hills and birds will always be there. The animals sleep and rise ev
Will this gun violence ever stop?
Will we have to wait till we've heard the trigger click of the last glock?
I'm no artist, dolled up
and I'm not perfect, flawed is beautiful
and I'm worth it.
Shining so bright, to the world
its blinding, on my accord it is
real no binding
The music that sings within me doesn’t ring as loudly now
I hold on to pieces as my heart falls to the ground
But, time heals all wounds right?
I thought that could be true…
What do they do with people like me,
circle of two hands
and one hastier than the rest;
in whatever shape or form
it always conforms
back to midnight from noon
and it’s too soon
to determine the monsoons
kicking dust as i move ahead, instead
of getting down and dirty. i could, but
i’m more of an insider as you can see
these sounds; the synergy
of cooperation and contemplation
The script extracted from our minds
within the confines of a classroom
that is not poetry
the feelings
artificial
the meaning
absent
it is that of mindless amateur literature
If I were a poet,
I'd probably write about love.
I'd probably write about first isses,
and dates;
sitting together at the park eating KFC
and laughing at the world.
Why close an eye on a stormy day?
Is it the fear that keeps you,
or within are you shy of the matter?
Ever flowing medicine that cleanses within.
Words.
All are taken, all are removed.
What am I gonna do when you’re gone?
Because you couldn’t let anybody in to hear the cries of your sad song.
So tell me what am I gonna do when you’re gone?
Affixed on the sight of my final destinationMy eyes do not wander to the path beneath my feet.Though time has seemed to stopI travel silently onward,Forever aware of the coarse sand wearing away
Upon the autumn's lighted day,
Perched upon my view, I say,
Singing songing was he then,
Ringing autumn's leaves away.
Standing sturdy on the tree,
The tree, to me, still sound asleep,
if you could ask a question,
anything on your mind,
what exactly would you ask
if you were given time?
Say you met a tall man,
who said he was a poet.
"Do you have a question?" He would ask.
There she is, a girl all alone
Others let out, an annoyed moan
She sits, her head down, in a book
Other play angry birds on a nook
She opens a notebook, takes out a pen
What is it that gives a word power
Is it the tone of your voice, the way you emphasize, and prophesize
Or does it come from your soul, pouring out every second, every hour
The beat and lyrics that I always hear
Makes the poet inside me wanna appear
Incomparable beauty like the Santa Monica pier
Addictive like when my dead cousin swallowed the beer
every exasperated sigh
is a painful reminder
of how unhappy you are here.
I cringe when I hear you
You are like a machine on its last run, ready to give in at any given moment
The release of words
Oh such a powerful thing
To express such joy or to ease the sting
Of the lives we have lived
Or the of the lives that have gone on to pass
Poems are different worlds of rhyme,
Of freestyle, meter and syncopated time.
They provide a method of escape - of retreat,
For poems allow simple words to make an entire universe complete.
Music
Clashing sounds
Rhythmic beats
All ensuing me
Revolving around my aurora
Till it finally enters my body, euphoria
Causing my internal energies to move, enigma;
I am me, untamed; am I untranslatable? No, not yet;anyone who has come to go or has yet to, why then question our differences too,then leave it be or take it otherwise!
You Walk Around With A Gun In Your Hand
So You Assume That Makes You Tha MAN?
You Disrespecting Your Mother So I Know You Respect No Other
But It's Respect That You Demand
Because You're "THE MAN"
She was an astronaut and he was a poet. He's known of her since elementary school.He's known her since before he knew of the words he should've used to describe the way she jumped off the jungle gym like Armstrong stepping on the moon for the firs
What I feel, must not be spoken.To assume it tacit, however, would be negligent.If not articulated.Perhaps authored.Drafted.Yes. It seems this outlet will suffice.
I’m always confined
By others who live merrily outside my cage
I’m alone and in this constant bind
Nothing, but me, myself, I and a page
It’s as blank as my future with nothing to find
Unknown to many
words are words
with power
with ink
with pixels.
A single atom
makes our words
an interest
a connection
a meaning.
I write for the art
They say it's the gun that we should fear. But listen to this. This gun that I hold, listen to it, it cannot walk, talk, or feel. This gun cannot be held responsible for actions of a hurt heart.
Why do I write?Is it because the wordsstop at the tip of my tongue?Is it because when I try to speak,nothing but a croak emerges?
Why do I write?I have found that, even though seeing is believingLooks can be oh-so deceiving. For me, the will to believe comes from the power of sound
Words are windows
From the past to the present,
From the present to the future.
They separate
Those of yesterday from those of today,
Those of today from those of tomorrow,
I’m depressed
which is probably normal for a teenager suppressed from any social life
because I balance eight classes, seven school activities, eating, sleep, procrastination and more sleep.
When stress bothers where I lay,
a poem becomes the sweet lullaby that keeps it away.
When I am feeling something that is hard to express,
a poem helps me do my best.
When ideas are hard to put on paper,
I was always fascinated by the universe of New York and all the stars that hailed from its solar system but Brooklyn was a bitter taste that was hard to swallow.
A picture is worth a thousand words but a poem is priceless. Often mistaken, misconstrued, interpreted completely different from the intended, a poem is but its creator dispersing their innermost thoughts merely to descend.
Stay silent
Sit straight
Perfect hair
Perfect teeth
Perfect body
Perfect house\perfect friends `
Perfect parents
Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!
I never thought I was that girl
The girl perpetually attached to her steno pad
with a backpack full of ink pens and dreams
But once the words started flowing
Relief came over me
I'm falling apart, i wonder if i'm the only one. Is it possible to feel down at such a lovely time. Isn't this time where everything blooms. I can't figure it out i feel like i'm drowning in an empty pool. Happiness is nothing but an illusion.
(poems go here) This morning the rose settled
on a dead pine, distinguished
with the color of smoke.
Remember the red fire.
If anything is free in love and war
then you and I will always soar
to the sky and then beyond
together forever and even more
who knows how long this bloom will last
but to know means that it went to fast
Missing you is me
Loving you is free
being true is easy
but not completely
today is a given
and tomorrow is never known
so be happy
and let yourself be shown
You pay women to dance, while your love is at home.
Two Viking babies asking when daddy is coming home.
How familiar is my name,
For daddy’s the one to blame...
Your ice cold look is really just a new flame.
Look at all these presidents,
They're all the same kind of gentlemen.
Wearing their suits and ties.
I wonder where are their wives.
Sitting at home?
Perhaps, I don't know
Because they can't tag along.
Equal people, same in hand and face,
but outcast quickly when not the chosen race.
Die for beliefs that should self explain,
that treatment you beg for, hope to gain.
Scream and battle with tooth and fist,
