PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

the things I will do for the past are telling

darker than darkness

I linger like things not said–

once I wrote that I wanted to know you

and now through knowing you

you are the only puzzle I will never solve–

finding the corners but

never all of them–

just searching for the dead ends,

what I think will close me in

the words I will use do not make a heaven of your body

they do not make me a martyr

they keep me in this empty space

they do not tell me I am as beautiful as I can be but

they have never told me you are not trying

the things I will do for the truth

are making me split like a parody

fight like inside my head

and all this character wants

is just to make her mine again

my body is another way to stretch my words until they break

it is something I don’t want to form until I speak it

you are everything I will lose

the end and the beginning and

the things I will do for love are sinful

scrabbling for grip

you are the only enemy I will never fight

just stand there in the ring

The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight

Bring the fists

Leave the guns

Let's end this like men

Run full force into the gates of hell

Bring them down

To their knees

They will pay with blood

The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight

They can beat us down

But not take our pride

We will rise again, again, again

Let the anger take hold

Bring out your demons

Bring out the pain

This world will know true justice

When they hear my name

The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight

We beg them to stop

They laugh in our face

You wont feel the same

When you're in my place

They beg for mercy

It's one on one

Every man for himself

But we all stand together

You will fall to pieces

YOU!! WILL!! LOSE!!!

The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight

Wow, this is the best poetry book in the world.

I love how deep it is.

That one poem is so funny my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the pages.

And the most amazing part is,

It sucked.

A lot.

Who were you expecting, a white knight?

I’ve heard these jokes before in checkout lanes.

And the customers in front of me never knew you existed.

I’m not that pretentious.

But you are.

I do not have double standards.

But you do.

Someone whose castle is built on mediocrity can’t scare me into hiding.

But someone else might be.

The moat is heavily guarded by trolls that can ruin their lives

If they refuse to walk on eggshells around you.

I keep pointing out your flaws

But you never even see them.

Instead, you fired a bomb into the crowd

And ecstatically handed the cannon to me.

You impersonate a traumatized child so onlookers would feel bad for you

And point their fingers at me at the drop of the hat,

Leaving me with nothing else to say in my defense.

I’m beginning to believe you love the drama more than you love your craft.

You’ve thrown burnt bridges in the wind today and I’m off to the pen,

But I’ll let you have your fun for now.

I have stowed away in the back of the truck to escape my sentence,

But I’ve come back to fight you with a rocket.

I’ve been ready for perfect storms since my old flame tried to kill himself.

And pinned the blame on me because he wanted me all to himself.

I have nothing to lose if you play the “defenseless child” act again.

You may have been one locked in a tower once upon a time.

But you grew up to be a dragon and imprisoned someone else.

It’s not my fault that you made yourself look worse.

It’s yours.

You can stop lying to me now.

I know you were never the victim.

You poor little porcupine.

It startled me that you jumped in front of a moving car.

I wish I could be there for you and help in any way I can.

But your quills pricked my heart when I gave you a hug.

I cannot pull them out or I would die.

So I had to tolerate this pain and let it suck the life out of me little by little

While I think back to when our affection for each other mended every obstacle we faced.

The future was bright for us.

You couldn’t stand by to let me sink

So you taught me to swim.

I wanted to return the favor badly.

But I didn’t know how I could, sadly.

The possibilities were endless when we spoke of our dreams.

You could picture yourself coming to my rescue and growing old with me.

You couldn’t wait to hear my voice as if your favorite show was about to air on TV.

You made every effort to show that you loved me

Even if I have nothing to give you in return except my own.

A year passed and the storm clouds were brewing.

The weather grew colder and attitudes turned sour.

I was working hard and I felt out of breath.

You were studying hard and you turned inflammable.

“Where was I when you needed me most?” you asked “calmly” one day.

“I’ve been fighting my own battles all this time.” I tell you. “Life hasn’t been kind to me lately.”

Please, please bear with me. I’m tired and I’m scared. I’m going to be left to my own devices.”

“You need to make more time for me.” You scream. “Anyone would have abandoned you ages ago”

“If you’ve been gone for as long as you did. Is several hours with me too much to ask?”

“Answer me, you ignorant, pathetic excuse of a child!!! Grow up!!!”

I couldn’t with you leeching off of my aura.

You made it seem like the world hates me now.

So I packed up my things, spread my wings, and flew off into the rain.

It doesn’t matter how badly you are suffering yourself

If the prospect that I need to take care of myself too slips your mind.

I never asked you to help me.

You did so at your own volition.

If you didn’t want to in the first place,

You could’ve answered, “No thank you.”

We could’ve gone on with our lives either way.

But here you are.

You called me immature.

You called me a teen in an adult’s body.

You said I never bothered to do my share.

But my dear porcupine, have you taken a look at yourself?

Or better yet, look in a mirror?

You don’t see the newfound greed in your heart, but I do.

The scholars in my inner circles do.

Whose leg are you trying to pull?

My loved ones know exactly what you said.

They know how selfish you’ve been acting and what I could’ve done.

If you think no one can love me the way you did, you could not be more wrong.

I can admit when I am anyway.

You went to town on me like I didn’t know how to count.

And my only response to your passionate rave was goodbye.

In the blink of an eye, you disappeared from my mind. Your quills in my heart decomposed.

It was like you were just another customer that treats cashiers like their punching bags.

I wish you the best of luck with your own hardships.

And I hope your own wounds heal entirely.

But I am done with you.

I am done letting your vitriol take up space.

I am done listening to you disguise your resentment as facts.

I am done hating myself for what our love has come to.

My love for you was just practice for the next person.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Demeter was wise to tell me to stop getting involved.

Because I discovered that what you don’t know

Was how amazing it felt to give you up and do her work

Without a care in the world. After all, you don’t know me.

Are you ready for it?

I shouldn’t have to ask you that question after all that you have done.

It would’ve been rude of me not to give you a heads-up like this.

Your reign of terror is steps closer to its endgame.

If I do not draw my sword and face the ghosts of my past, checkmate is guaranteed.

I did something bad long ago, but can you blame me?

I’m just a human being that made a mistake because I was not in the right mind.

Anguish and love do not mix because both made my life worse before.

If you respect that my situation is delicate, why do you keep poking the hornet nest?

If you crack it open and the wasps sting you so much their poison burns,

don’t be surprised if I say, “Look what you made me do.”

Your empathy is lacking so why should I care if you are put to rest the next day?

Princes don’t negotiate with paupers like me.

So it goes because fame and violence are always placed above justice and peace.

Isn’t it gorgeous to be the one in control? To run a country or a sect without a care in the world?

Doesn’t it feel amazing when your subjects obey you unconditionally as if you are an almighty god?

These questions reveal to me that aristocrats and celebrities use their authority

for insolence and seduction. No wonder we can’t have nice things.

You are not entitled to my throne even though a liar was the king of my heart before.

What was “yes” today could be “no” tomorrow so I keep fewer promises.

I’ve heard enough empty platitudes from your devotees to realize that an oath is not to be made lightly.

Anything else you want to preach about before I take the getaway car to escape additional agony?

Go ahead and dress your possessive wiles by telling me you love me

And shower me with material goods to let my guard down against my better judgment.

But when you try to use your tenderness as leverage, it is all the more reason for me to leave.

The longer I stay here, the more certain it is that my life is in danger.

My hands are tied keeping the darkness around me at bay for as long as I can.

Fortune is never on my side when I dance, but my sword will always be my partner.

Call it what you want, but the battlefield is my ballroom.

If dancing alone is the only way I can retain my individuality, so be it.

Happy Raʼs as-Sanah al-Hijrīyah, Vlad Dracula.

I’ll see you in Hell.

She gives in again

he cuts the rope shorter

I am faerie fire

I want to rage myself into a forest burn

and there are still things I can’t put into words

She gives in again

he cuts the rope shorter

I am faerie fire

I want to rage myself into a forest burn

and there are still things I can’t put into words

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...