I Held Back


"It's been a bit,

since I've written real words, 

real verbs, letters lined up 

to litter the page 


with alliteration, 

metaphors, hyperboles,

other devices that help gain

your undivided attention.


It's been a bit,

I almost quit,

because the last time I was on stage,

I felt like a tripped.


I felt like I didn't perform, 

I knew I was pulling punches, 

because there was much to consider, 

but now it's got me a little bitter.


I held back.


I held back,

lowering my tone,

juxtaposed to my actual voice;



I held back,

because of the 

familiar face

In the crowd.


I held back,

instead of letting it rip,

taking people on a little trip

to recount how one's lid


was flipped.


I held back

because I was scared

that I wasn't hip

and I wasn't hop, 


when I was raised on Wu-Tang 

and Nas 

in a place where 

where rain constantly drops,


and I know how

the beat drops, 

the mic rocks, 

and how rhymes can make time stop.


I held back 

because the tone of my skin 

has people guessing 

wrong my ethnicity, 


if you think I'm white,

you're not right, 

and to be honest 

that's not point.


Because I come from a place 

where I was too nerd to be brown

and too chale be white 

and too polite to be hanging out 

with the gangsters 


stealing cars 

and shooting at other's backs,

and if you think

I'm talking about blacks


that's the problem,

assumption causes caution, 

because not only were those 

want-to-be thugs


of fairer skin, 

my only friends

were much darker kin.

In the Marines,


we call ourselves green,

and you're either 

dark green, 

light green,


and there's no disillusion,

you disagree? 


perhaps in the Army.


And yes, 

the Navy too, 

there's no turning back, 

I'm no longer holding back,


what I'm saying is true. 

The point of this piece 

is to bring peace

to me,


that I was wrong 

to hold back, 

to withhold from the reader,

because how can I call myself 


a poet

if I'm not painting a picture? 

With your mind as the canvas,

and my words as the paint?


I watched poets come on stage,

deliver works of art,

things beautiful, 

and I saw a beautiful, torn heart


put her hand up in the air

to an artist work,

like it was gospel in the church,

with thoughts on me! I saw,


but I held back,

and what I provided last time

was a finger painting 

of child's skill.


I need to be real,

paint a real picture,

my motions and emotion

the finest paintbrush, 


now fluttering about

all over your mind, 

hopefully breathing to life

that I, 


a man,


am more than some accusation,

of being mean heart.

Of being a relatable object,



to a poem so eloquently put

'he broke my heart,

and called it poetry'?

Get out with that


hand raised in the air

while another poet

spills out her pain,

and perhaps next time


I won't hold back,

paint a picture 

of how her heartbreak

did become my poetry. 


Yes, I'm being specific, 

and context would make

for a much hotter piece,


but I'm over this, 

over being scared, 

I've conquered mountains

and crossed bridges.



I respectfully submit,

give me another chance.

I won't hold back."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had an open mic a few months back. A good friend of mine asked me to perform at her show she had built from scratch. I was eager to help, having performed at her show before (see 'Other Life') and had performed with (see 'Corpse Pose'). Anyway, I was there and I choked. I held back. I instantly wrote two new poems and read one decent poem, and another, lacking. I cursed myself for doing so. This poem is about that hesitation.

a talk with Mr. Black

a talk with MR Black


I came across something that got my attention
its name was Herion, I guess I should mention.
I said hello, can you answer a question?
I have friends that just love you
why is that? whats so special that you do?
I waited a minute, to hear its reply
it answered back, because you ask, I wont lie
I give my users a sense of peace
I take from them pain and give them relief.
if you do me, I make things feel right
and I'll never leave you, morning or night!
I'll give you a way to escape your pain
I'll help you hide from lifes game.
Now doesnt that sound like I'm a friend
Remember, I'll stay with you until the end.
I thought for a moment...and said thats sounds fine
But about the stories, I hear all the time
How you ruin lives and take some away?
he just smiled and said... sometimes you pay!
Yes its true, I can ruin your life
but... if you love me like a husband or wife
I'll never leave you, and if you try leaving me
I'll give you such pain, you'll beg me please.
you'll do anything to stop the pain
you'll even sell yourself in my name...
I take from you all you got
and my friend, I wont stop
I'll take any love that you might have
I'll take away your kids, your mom or dad
I take the friends the you go and see
I dont want you thinking, you can live without me
I was shocked by what I heard
he wasnt lying, or being absurd
Then I ask, why would you be like this
it answered back, I can give you bliss.
Just try me, and you will see
I'll give you whatever, inside a dream
you'll do me and then you'll nod
and while your out, you can be robbed
Robbed of all your self respect
robbed of a love you'll one day regret
your self esteem will fade away
and you'll convince yourself its okay
I could not believe what I just heard
Black was true to his word
he didnt lie, or hide his sins
He knew that many would welcome him in.
he had taken some friends, which made me sad
I turned away, disgusted and mad
I thought about a woman I loved before
She had chosen black, and died on the floor
Her needle laying next to her side
the thought of her death mad me want to cry
She gave up our love and loved black instead
because she loved black, she now is dead.

as I turn from him I heard him say

I treat your kids, one of these days


©11/05/2016 Paul (ChryWizard)  Posney



Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had to write something about this topic.

This drug was almost in the trash along with

cross tops, reds and yellow jackets... however,

it has came back with a vengence.

I have lost 3 friends to this drug, so here

is my take on it....

(Btw. no I dont)

View chrywizard's Full Portfolio

Black Fever


Painful and fatal disease

Not of this world...

Drawn down by Surama

Former priest of Atlantis.


Surama was a mummy;

But back restored to life

By a necromantic ritual

Performed in North Africa.


Wisdom and power

If the disease was spread.

Disgusted with this idea,

Surama left the humane.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

View sicky666's Full Portfolio


My grammaw y tu abuela fueron primas...a lifetime ago, se jugaron en la tierra cojiendo al Sol
Con las ideas of unity y amor, sin las tareas de miedo y valor
Our grammaws were cousins when life was simple and jewelry told a story
We are blessed since then nothing steals that glory.
For I still have the heirloom that if we are in the same room you would recognize
The healing of a heart and the sight for sore eyes
Los braceletes que se cambiaron todo 
Anyone who laid eyes on them would know
Que solamente si lo vieron, todos se pudiera quedar en casa, embrazando sangre esperando a sus abuelos a venir. But they did not notice or didn't care, shipped them off to live unknown fears. 
But the game they played to try to evade their destiny is the reason why we have been fooled all this time. I am your blood and you are mine,
After all, your abuela and my grammaw are cousins, look how our smiles shine mirror reflections time after time....

The Black Rose Of Hell

Tell me 

If I was born a demon 

Would I be damn to a life of sin 

Would the bloodline that I bear 

Condemn me to a world

Full of regret and a false sense of joy


And if I knew this truth. 

That I was bound to the lowest levels of hell 

Tell me 

Why would I hesitate to spread the devil's dogma

You see 

Not all that are born of a dark nature are evil

Some souls are just curse with a malevolent outlook 

But I believe  that If an angel can fall from the grace of God

Then a demon can raise above his own eternal damnation.

For a black rose that blooms in the pits hell is still a flower unto God 

~ Tony Paradise's Poet ~

My Blog -

View paradisespoet's Full Portfolio

The Great Golden Smile

All those tiny paper-thin slices of it



Up and down and caving and expanding and coloring and clotting and 0’ing and 1’ing 

Electric-atom spinners

Asphalt spitting it out and up 

again and again and again


Fool (us or tricked)

Proof (of anything or John Nash with an infinite-ink-marker and a heaven of windows)

Pyro (in backyards across America on-a-day or chest-against-chest-heart language)

Maniac (mirrors or common-speak-for-hue undetectable as of current instruments available)

Swallow (bird or gulp-(only nervous though always))


It is pulled out.


picked at,


heated to correct temperature,












It is put in.


And so in (and also is) the circle

King of the Stick Figures

Queen of Immense-Black and Trembling-White

Valorous Posture

Of the both

In the one

Let it slowly close

Pace=sunny day building shadows from 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. viewed from the same dusty bench 


Until circle becomes single point

And there is no words

And there are no sounds


And it holds the weight

And All is enveloped in The Great Golden Smile
View hce's Full Portfolio

Lost one

Faith is all you know.

You bestow it on me, so.

Inside, your knows-

Ten feet tall.
Slip towards the ledge.

You and I.

Push me below.

Wind took my breath.

Left me-

Laying on the floor.



Is white and black-

And pain,

Keep my hands shaking.

When you talk to me.

Your faith changed and,

You're never close to me.

View evietravieallie's Full Portfolio

neither lost nor trapped

it was a sencless morning

with grass green

the cherries red,

the path i wish to take

forward not back

i walk the road alone

i find nothing to see

nothing to hear

birds churping.. no ?

the forrest is dieing

the life is fading away

from the abuse it once took

the leaves wither to grey

and the trunk turns weak.

they tumble over one by one.
one person is all it needs to bring back the life in it
one person .. can only make thy differnce

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this One is one i was ment to post a while ago, I did it for english and got an A for it almost made my teacher cry,
its actually inspired by roberts frost view of nature, hes actually one of my inspireations.
knowing theres not many people who use this site its sad and id love to build up more connections with everyone

guys my name is jarret  if you wish to add me on fb very well i love poetry,
im male 16 live in australia and id be glad to talk about it with anyone who would be interested
theres a link to my fb :) add me

When You Can Read At Night

The other day I scared a white woman and im sorry.....

it was not my intentions to harm her in anyway

and as I think upon that fateful day

I can only say that im sorry


im sorry for the way in which I portrayed my people

im sorry for this evil

inside and out

and im sorry for the way your eyes ,

a beautiful shade of blue,

screamed “ I dont want to look at you”


“I dont understand why you're here.

This man is not my peer.

He instills me with so much fear

and it is only with pure despair

that we breathe the same air”


Im sorry

I have no soul

and my only goal

is to make sure every breath

turns cold, as the hue of my dark abyss

envelopes your soul

but miss....


do you understand?

That in the midst of darkness

I could be the light that guides your hand


that the color I wear does not make this man

and youre judging a cover you cant quite comprehend


but im here for you....

any day you want to open me

any day you want to read my pages

from front to back

and analyze all the facts

which lead you to the statement

that make you look back on that day when

you had the look of pure terror in your eyes

when you crossed my path....

and youll laugh


and I was ignorant

View therealbreevie's Full Portfolio