...and it's time to write poetry.

During my worst times I always wrote some poetry. Please do the same, if you feel inclined.

- - -

another night with the bottle

i wanted you to be my mother

i never wanted to be a brawler

but you cover your sorrow

no responsibility for tomorrow

your "baby boy" is no longer a crawler

he's running away, and fast

from his own hollow-- how long can he last?

another day alive

money for my time

i work without thought

since my next meal is bought

i've been on my grind

and through these loop-de-loops

i found how to survive

everything, i've felt it

a spectrum of emotion-- i can't help it

and neither would coke or pills

i've seen drugs destroy everything

take away from me people i thought were real

prescribed or not

i'd rather just roll with the hills

since being sober is all that i got

it's painfully obvious

past mistakes and promises

were made inside the wrong

since we have gotten along

you became my brother

a helper to me, and to all others

you saw potential

as i flew off the handle

i thought i was mental

but you knew where I can go

so many thanks my friend

as I leave on my journey,

I promise to tell you the end

as I continue learning.

- - - - - - - -

This for my friend that has never given up on me... He looked at me at my worst and still believed in me.... Something I've never had from anybody who wqs supposed to be "close" to me...

I'll send this to him when I start my trip across the country.

Being me hurts

I am suffering

From the worst

It is never ending

You are the best

You, me, and the next

The money, the sex, the imprisonment

It's poetic being under house arrest

Signs outside your cages

Speaking of heaven, of sages

The signs, the signs

Will never lie for ages

Poetic is the best life can see

the best you will never be

and heaven is real

because this sure as hell isn't reality.

honesty sucks and blows

a heart needs air, and this girl needs clothes

we can lose one or the other because of where this fling goes

she's my "little sister", and I'm her "little bro"

titles representing the unreal

friends from when she was mistreated, and stronger friends still

when she runs her hand up my leg, I am defeated-- I am so still

when she says "I love you," I say "I love you too," for real

hurts seeing a strong person being hurt still

beat by her boyfriend, broken by her father--

she's at a loss for words, and I am her author

no wonder I'm out of breath when I am around her

she can't confront the fact that I enjoy being single

showing me off to her friends-- they tell me they like me

this is never going to end--hate it so much--this is why I am writing

she's gonna try again and again to be more than my friend

but I'm gonna brush her off 'til I'm at the point where I'm not afraid to go all-in

stopped and had a good meal for once

mind is sober and clear from blunts

the trauma no longer bothers me

mind is free and clear of casualty

the hate for myself has subsided

now it's just me, myself, and the space provided

GREED

Deep Blue_

it's an honest vulnerability

you're in love with you

i'm in love with me

you love with what you do--

your talk is tall, but cheap

i purchase a singular drink

and sew into our dreams

- - - - - -

it's 6am

awake, unlike your friends

she gave chase; i caved near the end

tongue down my throat

breasts in my face

hands around her neck

inside a comfy place:

"why are you so nice to me--"

i smile, politely

"--nobody's nice to me."

she confides, meakly

it's not every day

we give away

what it is that we're keeping

open as the ocean

body like the summer sun

i'm glad that she came

she's glad she's not the only one

we walk upstairs

leaving the meal we've prepared

and cuddle

going to bed

knowing this needs a rebuttal

Jasmine, and I'm at a point of breaking. I wish I could stop.

stop time,

stop battering,

stop batteries,

stop wilting

stop willowing,

stop the scenery,

stop the way the windows strain

wish water was less wet for rain

I hate that everything stains when you scream for help once

so why did I never scream.

I worked my way into a shout, so I'm just starting

if I typed a little louder,

would you help me out?

I asked, allowed.

would anyone help me out?

I'm stuck in my mother's basement

but I feel like she dragged me out 

xoxo

I'm Not Stupid

i dont need to prove it

____yet i proved it

yet i have to hear how i need improvement

Lost My Home, Lost My Goals

is that not enough?

____tears down my face

as i spill my guts

is that not enough?

____rage paints the walls red

i fell, and i fall 'til im close to dead

bought debt due to death's threats

i need money to eat

i try to climb out of this hole

____but i dont have the speed

lacking energy

lacking friends

lacking family

____fight me please

want my knuckles to show the same color as my heart-- a deep red

rope in my closet calling my name

pulling me from out of my bed

____it calls my bluff

is that not enough?

or am i too much...

or burn up and wilt

wildflower in a sandstorm

it's kill or be killed

I'm forced to be the strong one

because you aren't

I'm forced to be the smart one

because you aren't

I'm forced to be a ghost setting feelings on fire to force the alarm

because you couldn't fathom the strength that I have at my worst when disturbance starts corrupting my charm

I'm a discrepency-- forever away from the system

a wish in the mirror, as I'm talking to myself in my head through my mission:

"You'll make it today, and tomorrow, too."

always picking myself off the pavement in pieces that they can borrow too

Can I have my personality back?

my taglines

my phrases

the joy I've created

my compliments

my pain my passion

your favorite reactions

or so it happens

because my heart is too large for my chest

so it bursts forth, out of my soul

helping everyone out no matter the cost

until my heart is no longer full

until I've been used like a tissue and the anger takes over control

the love dissipates along with my goals

I turn into a coward who pulls and he pulls

pulling the pieces away from others to once again attempt to be whole

where is the value in grabbing from others what I demand on my own?

today is the last day of my life

burning in flames, crackling snake eyes

luck ran out, and greed, and pain too

numb to the following-- splitting the seams on said shoes

I crave what I am; a shell with no fame; a man with no friends

today I dig the grave for my end

I watch as my former self hops inside the damp dirt

I covered him as well as I could-- I can't move backwards

its time to move on, the headstone

it reads, "Here lies the past as I wish for my other self to get grown."

dried leaf memories

the collectivist

blood cells and brain nerves

thoughts put on backwards

palm puzzles and scars

embracing of mar

mounds of ash; the past

cannon aimed at back

heaving of insides

deeper volts of mind

suicide of crime

thump the wall; absolve

blood cores of us all

the ceremony

the activation

forgotten yourself

damnable nation

broken, bruised, and used

controlled to a null

ritual the void

destroy to destroy

enjoyment from toy

reflecting a doll

away from involved

detached, splish-splashed paint

you are not the same

painful to remain

view them far away

a ghost of a shell

promised not to tell

inside it so screams

promised to not say

anything.

Easy Mode

What is the controller?

does it reside in your hobbies?

your dreams ?

is your value coined inside material things?

is your habitat a challenge with mysteries?

Where is the controller?

in your hands, or your father's?

mother's, brother's, sister's?

The ghost that makes your wrists hurt?

Where is the pain?

is the void numbed through time spent less active?

sitting in a chair, but never backwards

Where is the mind?

Gone? replaced by a theme that you

belong?

Have you faced it?

met face-to-face with facets

so unreal they take away?

You are the controller

Hands grip around your being as sweat pours from orifices

Anxiety swells, impossibly small from the reality you've dwelled

Dug inside the brain is a new home less insane, more innate, contained beautifully inside the soul

Until

it's

time

to

pause

i am stuck

transfixed in position

a glorified shmuck

i am stuck

but how?!?

i require time to figure this out

i am stuck

there's no way i cannot move

i have two legs i intend to use

i am stuck

But you are too!

I CAN SHOW YOU WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE CONFUSED

i am stuck

there is----there must be a way!

i'd sell my soul for a chance at another day!

i am stuck

i apologize, i'm such a burden...

i'm not worthy enough, of that i'm certain...

i am stuck

nothing to pass the time

no reason or rhyme

please take my life

i am stuck

and i should be

i was miserable when i was free

i required a chance to perceive

what it was like to love someone like me

one day i'll get out of this muck

right now i am thankful

for such good luck

i am stuck

Beyond the surface is the echolation of my self-truths

I'm painfully aware of the harm inflicted from self-abuse

If only I was educated from the start about self-use

The drugs numb the senses before you let your self loose

CONSUMPTION

>CONSUMPTION

>>CONSUMPTION

i CANNOT halt

faceted as my only function

vast ConCocTionS null

unable to SeE the corruption

REPETITION will end us ALL.

I hope I live

to see through the production

I have one. We're doing poetry for school, so I thought I'd give it a shot here to see what people think:

(*Ahem)

One day long before,

when we were thought of as gods.

They were kings and queens of fate, they could cure heartache,

yet were cursed with a hole in their heart they couldn't satiate.

Slowly but surely, the God-folk fell,

succumbed to the heart-hole they could not quell,

suddenly, the truth, the world wasn't enough

And to the world of lies they turned.

The God-folk became obsessed with the greatest lie,

and unbound from the shackles of truth, they flew high.

With nothing to bind them to the truth of the Earth,

they no longer saw the world for what it was truly worth.

But these God-folk did not leave the world just yet.

There were some God-folk that wove a net,

this net was in the shape of a promise, a vow

to nature, beauty and greatest of all, truth, they would bow.

The net was woven about their tongues,

the air in their lungs, their very voice.

Yet as they tried to rejoice, they discovered the horror of what they had done.

And with that they tried to speak,

and there was not a sound, not even fragile or weak.

And with that they clawed ravenously for a truth to seek

yet it was all, everything, tainted with untruth's reek

whether in small speckles, or larger piles,

that vow shaped net could not be defiled

At this horror, they tried to scream,

but they could not make a sound it seemed...

please tell me what you thought, it would be much appreciated

Well, that was awesome.

Your poem is a really cool story that anyone that reads it will take something with them. There's the unique twist that even though the Gods that stayed on Earth wove a net of truths, they still lost their voices and were terrified after the net's completion. Prior to the net was the Gods that left because of the "hole in their heart", and because of their inability to stay on Earth and see the need for Earth, they severed their connections with Earthly needs. Like a typical, and philosophical, Greek myth, your poem invokes questions about morals and forces the reader to contemplate the weird life the Gods live. Would the reader have left the Earth, or stayed to weave the truths of the joy of Earth and consequentially lost their voices in morbid horror ?

You should examine your poem and decide to up-the-ante of your wordplay, if it interests you. Some more descriptive words would help the narrative flow a bit easier.

If you truly love your poem, reread it back to yourself and see if you can't play with its word choices. This is the best part of poetry. For me, playing with the words can grant a more descriptive world, and a deeper connection to the beautiful story you wrote.

thank you. I think that it was quite obvious that I was far more focused on what the poem was saying rather that the words themselves (hence a bunch of stretches to hit rhymes). I've been kicking that idea in my head for ages now, and it felt good to write down. But yeah, I will try and work more on the presentation of the work, because it's clearly very important to how one take it in.

eating flowers

crushing pedals

loving sunshine

insisting mental

unbeknownst to me are general gestures

kindness

sadness

empathy

enigmatic to me are familial pesters

calling

culling

loving

pleasures

let's start a family with infinite insanity

scrawling

sprawling

clawing

festers

hate to our heart's content in play-pretend

rubbed

tugged

bugged

immeasured

seek with others what lacks in lovers

misdirection

imperfection

inattentive

unintended

judge each other not on what was governed

bound

together

by

time

forever

hate yourself for being overly-clever

love

not

what

was

lost

instead enjoy the thoughts you severed

goodbye

forever

hello

new

endeavor

starting over feels like love is measured

I like toast

Buttered toast

Especially on sourdough bread

I put it in my mouth

All the way in my mouth

I'll eat it until I am dead

I hate sourdough

my cringing toes

backwards rolls

I killed sourdough

drove over it

on the road

I hate your hate

Your retaliate bait

About my precious tasty treat

Keep your opinions from the gutter

By trying it with butter

Or at least stay off the street

I enjoy my bread, my friend

But my head is filled with dread once again

Within my sight, I can spy it

Too putrid to look at, let alone try it

It is time to finish it off with threats

I apply swift insults instead of a buttery spread

"You look fluffier than a furry, dont worry--"

"You're about as American as curry, so surely--"

"There is no way a bread, as gay as you--"

"Could end up inside of me, not trying to be lewd."

As I have trounced, I try to dash off

But the bread denounced to my back, some equal trash talk

"You are afraid to eat me, o wise one"

"You cannot comprehend that I am great for everyone"

"Go now and cower in fear"

"I do not want a no-bread-body as weak as you near."

I turn back around, frail and dismissive

I triumph my pride, and make eating my mission

NOM NOM NOM

HOW DELICIOUS YOU ARE

NOM NOM NOM

NOT MADE WITH YEAST, YOU'RE A BEAUTIFUL STAR

NOM NOM NOM

the bread cried out in agony

while i was chomping away

but with the last of its breath

there was a smile on its face

THE END

A mark upon the skin

A mark upon a whim

What I love to do

Is digging deep within

A gravestone adjacent to a plot

A plot packed to the top with rock

Memories as solid as ashen snow

Falling from grace while passion blowed

Well played, sir. Well played.

Suckle the tit of the conglomerate

Piss away talent and fortune for vain

A flame under a spoon or an expensive afternoon

We all kill ourselves to obey

and i'm insane for seein' it

i'm insane for believin' in

somethin' different

than every other human bein' is

i stare at the sky

fuel for my damaged mind

the darkness soaks my shine

the universe asks if i'm alive

it takes time for a star to burn

but it doesn't take long for it to blind

it takes time for a start to learn

but it doesn't take long to build your mind

the sunrise, the sunrise

i'm waiting for

the sunrise, the sunrise

i'm waiting for

a difference in the twinkle of my eyes

i'm waiting for

a difference in the wrinkle of my disguise

i'm waiting for

a reason to change

a reason to rage

each and every page

is seemin' the same

i'm in a grave, i'm in a grave

the moon howls at its little knave

a theif inside a cave within the ground

stealing moments to cry out

when no one's around