PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Scream, scream, screaming:

Help those drowning 

all around

and they look to their coffers,

and the piles fill into the coffins--

The tide is coming in and the flood

is just getting worse:

there's a rage building in the dead,

and we'll speak for them. 

Wretched bodies flung into a funeral pyre,

and the silence is deafening upon the pile,

and we see our love burned to ashes,

and we see their hands deep in pockets.

Cold hard cash for the winners and 

death sentences for everyone else. 

There's a cold rage building in the dead

and we'll speak for them. 

The march of the dead is coming and 

pitchforks are on our side this time.

Too big to fail too big to fall to big to take on

too big for their own good too big so

let's build ourselves and let them know

we're too big to ignore.

There's a cold rage building in the dead and

it just keeps growing and

we'll speak for them. 

If we're face down, six feet under, it doesn't matter

if their cash piles grow and grow

in the face of God they pray, bow, and pretend

it's fine as long as they say sorry

and it won't be. 

A cold rage is building in the dead,

am ember burning

threatening to blow it apart

and it just keeps growing

and

we'll speak for the dead. 

When the man of the house threatens to put a leash on you,

The best step now is to see yourself out to force him to rue.

The saddest eyes in a world of gray

Full of hurt, and the weakest strength

Windows to a tortured brain

Courting madness to look sane

I see the darkness around your face

That you try to hide away

You've lost the will to live again

Subject to recurring pain

The wrinkles flow around your features

Like roiled and cracked imprints of creatures

Growing old while in your prime

Extenuate the charm of time

The mouth is small and bares it's teeth

Silent when it ought to speak

Chewing when it ought to stay

Cursing the good days away

Stepping back

Now I see

It's simply a mirror

Reflecting me...

I’ve been swimming in the deep end lately.

My head is spinning in circles.

My heart had never been so hollow on the inside.

I need to catch my breath before I do anything else stupid.

My work of art is an escape from uniformity.

I felt safe with you for the time being.

At the end of the week, you cuddled me

When the sergeant had an off day at work and took it out on me.

I let you in like I did when I meet new people.

You were happy for me when I told you I finally found love.

I wanted nothing more than a friend’s reassurance that everything will be okay.

But you in particular were a land mine waiting to explode.

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

I can barely read script in Delphi without misinterpreting some if not most of its passages.

My art isn’t like what you’d expect to see in other do-it-yourself or high-profile projects.

The way I write, the way I archive, and the way I distribute information is my strongest suit.

There is no way I can fulfill my goal in life alone without the help of a team that knows its stuff.

You didn’t have to sugarcoat your advice to fix my problems

But you didn’t have to pull more than my teeth either.

You spoke to me as if I had to know every damn trick in the book.

You pointed out where I went wrong as if I didn’t already understand it.

I would have welcomed your advice if you watched your language.

I would have been more considerate if we joined forces as planned.

But being friendly with you in light of this is just out of question.

You can say that I’m high all you want, but it goes to show that you’re smaller than you think.

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

A vagabond told me this morning that I don’t learn much from success

And boy, I sure did learn a lot about your character more than what it takes to be top dog.

I might also let it slip that you exploded in my face because your little rant was all over the place.

In that case, riddle me this, who among the two of us really needs room for improvement?

Happily ever after doesn’t exist.

Not when people like you also exist.

I bought myself a new suit of armor so you don’t drive another knife in my back.

I told the vendor to hold the stallion because human legs were never for aesthetic purposes.

I wanted to walk the face of the Earth with you using my own.

We would’ve walked more than a thousand miles together to chase the sun and avoid the night.

And I never needed to worry about my tired legs.

They built up a tolerance from walking in the coastal sand and helping me keep up with dirty dishes.

I told you about my demons and how quickly I am to care when I’m shown an act of kindness.

Mother always lectured me that no matter how small they may be, they are never in vain.

But there is such a thing as being too kind. There is such a thing as temptation.

The best of us cave in once, twice, or maybe more than that when we write in our diaries.

You were like such a book to me and I trusted you, but never did I expect that you’d defile my soul

By persuading me to partake in activities that I would never in my right mind do.

I should have recalled the fable of a girl who trusted a poltergeist that haunted a similar diary.

Had I not flee the moment I saw your true character, I would have joined her in death.

Looking back, I understand that diaries are the keys to starting fires and turning innocents into fugitives.

You can try with all your might to pry my mouth open to get me to spill any more beans

But my lips are staying sealed because I know who you really are and I finally learned my lesson.

You never exposed me. You only leaked a chapter that was part of a book you never read.

So why bother showing it to you knowing that my real friends and family will be endangered as well?

I know that a deluded man gambled away so much ammo to the vipers that he became a trainwreck.

I swear on my recurring nightmares that any answers to your questions will be used against me.

Truth and justice is a concept invented by people and after all, people do make mistakes.

God bless the right to remain silent.

Because even the condemned understand that its value supersedes a vault of gold

That the draconian blackjack dealers steal from the poor that desire to play with them.

Where was Robin Hood when I needed him most?

Flash forward to a single year and I’m now twenty-five with an art degree in hand.

I’ve spent all that time studying my ass off and avoiding the vipers that plague my past.

I was with my true friends who never give a shit about your deceit when I realized I never needed you.

Preparing for financial exams under the tutelage of a bright mathematician was like you never existed.

So the next time you see me, I won’t grovel on the pavement begging you to take me back.

Instead, I’ll look the other way and French kiss my new admirer in front of you.

Just to let you know that I changed for the better and you missed out on the life we could’ve had.

I am fortunate to understand that your absence last summer turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

I dare you to call me an idiot again!

I dare you to call me a chicken!

I dare you to say that I’m going down

While you hide behind the blackjack dealers that love you for show!

There’s always someone out there willing to give you a taste of your own medicine anyway.

How did it feel when even Discordia didn’t want anything to do with you?

Was it salty and sour like your attitude and your deceit?

Cavities caused by the consumption of these candies are a pain for dentists to fill.

And just like that, you disappeared from the face of the Earth again. Hopefully, for good this time.

You can erase your identity from the world, but you cannot erase the marks your venom left behind.

You may still be on my mind from time to time, but I don’t see you in a virtuous light anymore.

You are nothing but a fable.

C'est une petite forêt tranquille

Epargnée par l'hiver, baignant dans l'été

Le soleil inonde une clairière, petite île

Ou s'achève sombrement une épopée

A l'endroit ou se croisent les chemins

Les regards haineux se croisent

Et pour un joyau rouge, l'un y perdit sa main

Ainsi que la source de son extase.

C'est une petite clairière silencieuse

Où l'on pu ce jour la apercevoir,

Scintillant sur des cailloux d'ivoir

Des milliers de petits rubis

Tombés de celui, qui, tantôt

Perdit l'un de ceux-ci, ainsi que sa vie.

Loin sous l'herbe, coup de pioche

Des jeunes hommes soufflent. Combien souffrent encore demain ?

Puis, dans un sursaut, l'un d'eux de sa main 

Dévoile une étoile bleue dans la roche

La Terre fut amputée, l'étincelle se meurt

Pas plus grosse qu'un sou, couleur d'océan

Le mineur, dans sa prison de souffre ardent

Ne verra plus qu'en rêve sa couleur

Sur le doigt de fer d'un monstre d'acier

La goutte étoilée ne luit plus 

Même pas de quoi éclaire

Les sinistres sourires des mangeur de Terre

Qui, en tout point semblables aux vers

Moisissent la pomme et Pourrissent l'espoir.

Full speed, fantasy about being under my own tires, expressing myself getting even harder, Nowhere2go, not enough prayer for you, your mind is tainted and no one will ever love you, Dancing in holy white, hoping I get her attention, driving fast, gma come get me, fantasy about being under your tires, expressing myself getting impossible, the army saving my life, there are times where I breathe and I feel like im losing my life, my lungs are expiring and I'm gasping for air, and niggas around me can't even tell, Danielle, I hate that I still love her, fuck it, I'll see her in hell, I'm falling for a girl, who is the same, Jesus take the wheel, nowhere2go, there is, not enough prayer for you, I've spent my whole life depressed, I wanna end myself, my silence is golden as fuck, when I seem happy, people don't have to look, the shadows where they dwell, in the light wishing me well, I can't see and I'm paranoid, drowning myself in addiction hoping I blend in, I've been home for only a few days, and it sinks in, and it sinks in, no one loves you, nowhere2go.. I've spent all my life depressed.. thinking about death.. hoping my time is next.

Long ago man started a fire,

it was small, tiny, on the brink,

but it kept burning, smoldering,

until it found new sources to grow.

It grew slowly, consuming more,

exponentially larger, grander,

man marveled at its creation,

that could destroy so much. 

It begins to consume man,

and man begins to fight it,

Frantically, full of panic, 

piling water onto it.

But so many men love the fire,

they deny its hand in consuming others,

that it is a myth so others will smother out

their greatest invention that gives them so much

power.

For those who can direct the fire care not,

whether it consumes an ant or an aunt,

because it gives them control over all,

those who fight it are condemned.

The condemned have outgrown the not,

but fire is a mighty foe that has grown vast,

it unlocks now for itself more raw material,

the extinction of many species trivialized. 

Mass extinction by fire. 

Will the new stewards halt the progress?

Or is too much consumed that now

the smoke and soot will bury them?

Slowly, the condemned become the saviors.