No more evenings,

as now the night descends,

the shadow of another tragedy

creeps again across my world.

There are no stars, no moon,

no beacons set to guide my steps,

and even the breeze

refuses to move

in the darkness of this night.

What makes me feel the precipice drawing near?

Surely I can sense its breath,

not as I sense a stirring wind,

but rather in the expansiveness

of the unknown depths

beyond its unseen edge.

One step. Two steps and ...another....

How many steps do I dare to blindly take?

Whispers float on stagnant currents,

a cacophony of dire Warnings,

without direction, without surcease.

"Too near," strains their aria,

I have moved too near the edge.

I fear the precipice, and rightly so.

I risk not death,

which will come this night

whether I step or stay,

but gamble instead much more.

One step. Two steps...another...

But which will be my last step?

"Caution!" whispers the strident voices,

Least my liberties be lost forever

within the maw of preservation,

and freedom be sacrificed

as I foolishly defeat myself.

They are right, I concede,

taking another step to unseen edge.

Yesterday, I listened,

tomorrow, I'll listen again,

but, this night, I don't care.

"Beware!" drums the dissonance,

Least my tragedy be counted

in dollars and ratings,

with marketing madness

the only memories I keep.

Yesterday, I listened,

tomorrow, I'll listen again,

but this night, they use the night

to decry what they themselves partake,

and I refuse to care.

"Take heed!" urges wisdom,

"Least my justice be lost

in the stink of retribution,

and righteous outrage confused

with the cancer of empty hate.

I grit my teeth, silently insisting,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some anniversaries should be always remembered, but never celebrated. When our reality becomes too horrible to believe, even comprehension must suffer.Sometimes, the only things I can as a poet offer are remorse and comfort because life is just a flash of metaphor and the world still cries after it is gone.

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It gives me something nothing else can give me,

It gives me something that only it can give,

It brings me pain, hurt, release, pleasure,

But I need my best friends more than I need it.

Pain dwells inside of me, fire burning,

Flames so hot they could burn a hole,

Pains so badly like,

A fatal knife stab to the heart and soul.

Best friends mean more to me than anyone else,

My boyfriend, one of my best friends,

My blade, not a friend, an enemy,

My sweet release.

The sweet release of the harsh pulling of my skin,

The sweet release of the coolness of my blood,

The sweet release of the pain as it rubs on my clothes,

The sweet release of the ecstasy running through my body.

How much I long for this,

How much I think I need this,

How much I know how it hurts them,

How much I think I need it, I do not.

The edge digging in, deep, true, at times too deep,

Ripping away at my flesh, leaving a mark,

Swelling and bursting my flesh opens up,

Spills blood everywhere, me, my knife, and my clothes.

Swelling and healing, rubbing and irritation,

Tearing of the scab, bleeding again, more irritation,

Smiling as the pain is nice, gives me a bit of release,

The dark side of me, my innocence is lost, lost to my knife.

One day it will kill me, hope it doesn’t, I hope I never do it,

Never want you to see me go like this, not like this, not fair,

Don’t want to have to give you a last kiss goodbye, not like that,

I want to be with you forever, my best friends, forever and ever.

My heart craves for this release, my arms burn for it, and my wrists too,

How I love it too, but I hate it at the same time,

Wishing I had never even tried it, the ecstasy is too great,

Far above my normal world, I lay in bliss.

My icon, my higher power, my knife,

Dominating me when I'm vulnerable,

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Sweet Slumber

Rhyming Poetry

My favorite time of day,

is actually late at night.

The time I get into my jammies

and turnout the bedroom light.

I snuggle down into my bed,

underneath the covers.

My eyes adjust to the room

as the darkness hovers.

Its the time I use for thought

and issues of the day.

Sort them all out in my mind

then take some time to pray.

My eyes grow heavy as I lie there

counting sheep by number.

Hugging my pillow closely,

I fall into such sweet slumber.

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Riding Freedom


 Image result for black mustang horse


Bare legs wrapped around pure
muscled and sinewy brawn,
both our long black manes,
flying loose in the breezes,
unfettered by ties.


Arms tightly wound around
the sleek neck of my wild mustang,
I clung in desperation,
afraid to loose the freedom I'd found,
afraid to let go of my dreams.


As one we rode,
hard across a canyon, vast
the only sound, the mingling
of both heartbeats and hooves,
pounding in sync.


Tears of delight
and tears of liberation,
mixed with the perspirations
of the run.


My body screamed with exhileration,
my soul danced, in uninhibited flight
and my mind erased everything,
so only this time was recorded
so only 'this' time mattered.


The awesome and mighty power
of my steed below me,
radiated through my being,
giving me the strength and resolution
I had never before known.


We rode all the day
and into the night,
until we both were spent from the journey
and under the glow of the full moon,
we slept,
my head, pillowed upon his flank.



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i wish

i wish i could lie

lie like those guys

those guys who can plaster a smile on their face

with no fear that the heat of their soul

could melt it away

i wish i could die

or at least try to die

so i can see how much i'd learn

to appreciate life or

so i can learn how much

people really care

i wish i could fly

i would fly away to a new place

with a new name and a new face

i would fly with my arms ready for

a warm embrace from someone new

that cares

i wish i could try

i would try to find my way

through these piled emotions of mine

i would try to find the lies

in this greedy world's greedy eyes

i would try to make my world go right

i would try to to get you, for once, in my life

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written 9/18/03

View tater_tot's Full Portfolio

Untitled 14

Untitled Poems

There are times when I feel so alone

Not really lonely...

But alone...

It's a trip how I can be in a room full of people

And still be the only one there

At the grocery store

At the mall

In the park

At the gym

In a restaurant

At the club

In my house right now with this brother sitting beside me

As I sit here having an entire dialogue with myself in my head


Why did I even allow him to come over here?

Who   is   he?

Why   is   he?

What   the   hell   is   he   talking   about?

I see the brother but I cannot FEEL him

I?m listening to the brother but I cannot HEAR him

And I really wish he would put my shoes back on my feet

Because I did not invite him over here

For   an   evening   of   tricks   or   treats


Where is the  s u b s t a n c e?

Where is the   s u s t e n a n c e?

Where is the     c o n v e r s a t i o n?

Where  is  his  mind  and  where  is  his  spirit?

Where is that vibe that makes  me    even     want     to    hear    -    it?





Just give   me    -    m  e


Where is he?

The only one I?ve asked for

The  only  one  I?ve  prayed  for

The   only  one  I?m   waiting  for

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Serene Mysteries

I sit on this stone

surrounded with aqua blue.

My faint curls swaying,

dancing upon the wind and waves.

I see her ballet on pearls;

leaping, gliding on sapphires.

My beating rose dreams of that,

being serene on painted glass.

The ocean holds mysteries of deep

silenced by the cerulean mirror.

Oh, how I desire to know

their secrets of untamed wilds.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

October 1, 2003

View mythers's Full Portfolio

It is


it starts like a wave of arrogance
it feels like being hit with an anvil
it conquers but leaves
in the sea of secrecy...


it is the pain that keeps me calm
it is the disgust that gives me passion
it is the zig when i should have zagged
in this sea of jealousy...


i am hurt yet i am stronger
i have pressed on, but i am still here
every time i stop to look...
it is taken away from me


it is the sea for only me

Author's Notes/Comments: 

well, this is my first one submitted, it speaks of internal conflict from strife, it is very universal for interpretation though

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Even Though They're Gone

Emo School

I feel it.

How the cold crimson liquid

Stains my back

And pours from the wound

That hurts so badly.

Not a mortal wound…

Oh no.

Something deeper,

Something worse.

A pain that drives

Even the sanest crazy

Inside myself,

I cringe and sob.

The pain that is there,

Will stay always.

For it never stops bleeding there;

There it’s my mental wound.

No matter how

I bay it to heal,

It seems to be

Too deep a cut.

Too sharp a hole to heel.

Still bleeding, never stopping,

Never giving me damned rest.

I can’t stop it,

Only know

That it’s still there,

Hurting me inside.

Though they’re gone.

These terrorists of my soul,

I still feel the pain.

It’s sharp and stabbing,

And it only hurts more,

When I feel the crimson blood,

Running freely down my back.

A fatal wound,

Is that,

Is what damned thing they cause.

It still hurts.

Still hurts.

I cry myself away

Away into my mind…

Into the mind where no pain,

No pain at all can get to me…

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I saw some of the preps from my school at the park and when they followed me and wouldn't leave me alone, I snapped, I got on my bike and I petaled as fast as I could toward home. When I got there, I cried, then, for the first time... I realized that they scare me. The preps scare me. It's something about their demenor... it makes me afraid... it's like all I can do I run...

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