Hate

Dragon’s Release

Dragon’s Release

   By jfarrell

 

Yes, I understand now.

I can’t visually describe my dragon…

And what kinda dragon’s that?

I’m, scared to.

 

(Sting - “be yourself, no matter what they say”)

 

Be myself..

Today, I could, quite happily, cut my dad’s throat,

And piss over his grave;

Same for my mother;

And, describing, visualising, this darkness,

Is a good thing?

 

Yes!

Whether you hurt me a long time ago;

Or whether you were my scumbag neihgbours,

Yesterday, praising god all day, in your arrogance,

Pissing me off, giving me no choice..

 

My dragon looks like hate, my hate;

And it aint about skin colour, or your politics;

It’s about how you make me feel!

I have no voice? What I feel doesn’t matter?

Fuck you!

 

Release this shit!

Sorry for the swearing, but it felt needed;

So sorry :)

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

gotta let it free

View suicideslug's Full Portfolio

Power

Folder: 
Personal World

I have more power than you do, I realise this now

You used to make me feel like a useless waste, I realise that now.

You used to display power, I didn't, yet I'm more powerful.

I made things happen I didn't know I could. 

I walked away, knowing I should. 

Even through the smoky haze, I knew....

I have more power than you!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Self-realiation after many years away from my ex.

Unwanted - I am a constant reminder of your pain

Unwanted – I am a constant reminder of your pain

 

She gave birth to a beautiful little boy

No pain, no sadness, all he brought was pure joy

A new life into this world, for her to love and to hold and call your very own

Her biggest wish was to have more children, her little boy’s clone

 

Pity she didn’t know that it would be her biggest woe

A horror memory engraved in her heart and soul, a memory she will never be able to let go

If she knew, would she have still gone through following her heart’s desires?

I don’t believe so, and those who do, are all liars

 

Two years later she couldn’t wait for the birth of her second baby

This time around, she expected a little girl, but the wait was driving her crazy

This little baby just didn’t want to let go and come out to bloom

Two weeks late after the due arrival she decided to leave the womb

 

Excruciating labour pains for hours is all she felt

Tears streaming down her cheeks while screaming in agony for help

Instead of giving her a caesarean, or calling a doctor, she was told to be silent

The little new-born girl was coming out bridge, large, but no giant

 

The new-born tore her open from side to side

She lost so much blood giving birth, she could have died

Nurses took the baby and called the doctor

Who only arrived a day later and simply gave her pain killers, his carelessness shocked her

 

She didn’t want to see or hear her new-born for days

This little baby girl left her in a constant daze

The baby was to blame for her pain

The baby was to blame that she may never have babies ever again

 

The baby was to blame that she was left alone in a pool of blood

To scream and suffer with so much tears, almost causing a flood

With no one there to ease her pain, no doctor, no friend, no husband, left alone in vain

The baby was to blame for her dismal future which will forever remain

 

Yet, days later she called this child ‘’Desire’’

Funny, that one’s biggest desire could turn out to be your biggest heart’s regret fire

For this poor baby girl was once wanted

But once she greeted this world, she was immediately unwanted

 

Weeks passed, months passed, she loved and cared for a baby girl

But in her mind, she was always reminded of the hell she caused her, this little pearl

Decades passed, the baby grew older into a young precious lady

But still, she could not forgive and forget, she had to tell this child what she did to her as a baby

 

When the child reached her mid-twenties she decided to tell her of the birth from hell

And confessed that she didn’t want anything to do with her for days after the painful spell

She decided to tell her because the child suffered from depression

Showed signs of a cold heart and unlovable, unwanted, signs of death obsession

 

But her confession didn’t change the child’s behaviour

What was done to the new-born decades earlier will leave a lasting scar forever

The feeling of being unwanted, left alone and unloved, no matter how long

That loneliness and empty feeling the child will always carry that burden along

 

It almost seemed to make her happy, taking revenge on her own child, maybe

To remind her daughter on a regular basis of the pain she had caused her as a baby

The regrets that she carries for giving birth and wanting a second child

The regrets that she has still grows very deeply and wild

 

This baby is now 40, and it is me

Three weeks until I turn 41 I was reminded yet again of all the pain I caused her, she is still not free

If I am so unwanted, a constant reminder of your pain

Why then, does God not take me away from your again?

 

Why can’t I just die to ease your horror memories and unforgettable, forgivable pain?

Why does God keep me on this earth in your presence if all you want is revenge over again?

You want to get me back for what I did to you in your womb

You want to hurt my heart and health as much as you can to revenge your pain memories until my doom

 

Once Wanted

Became Unwanted

I am a constant reminder of your misery and pain

 

Why must I be alive? Why does God not take me away? What do you have to gain?

View dlr's Full Portfolio

I Held Back

Folder: 
Personal

"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;

loud.

 

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? 

Shoot, 

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,

supposedly,

 

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.

 

Reader,

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.

How to read The Bible

How to read The Bible

By JFarrell

 

It’s always struck me

No-one reads the Bible properly

Everyone reads

With preconceived ideas

 

Inspired by god, maybe

But written by men

For the benefit of men

For the control of men and women

 

And nowhere

Does it say what Jesus said

And nowhere

Does it say what Jesus did

 

It tells

What others say Jesus said and did

And in any court

That is called “here-say”

 

So, dear believer

Next time you read the Bible

Please try reading it with an open mind;

Maybe, god will speak back.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

reading is good

So you wanna be a terrorist

So you wanna be a terrorist

By JFarrell

 

So you wanna be a terrorist?

Thats fine by me.

 

You can be like my dad

Such a big brave man

He gets drunk to beat his wife and kids

Because he’s a chickenshit coward.

 

Do you really think bombing a bunch of kids

Makes you any better that him?

Makes you braver than him?

Makes you more a man than him?

 

What a pussy!

Yes, you!

Isis, ira, al queda, whoever…

I should fear you?

 

Why?

Oooh, you got guns and bombs,

I’m so scared

Not!

 

Be a man, act like a man

You pussy!

Real men don’t blow up children

Chickenshit worthless losers blow up children.

 

Paradise? Virgins? Reward?

I don’t care what god you claim to honour

Ask him

For scum like you he has a place reserved in Hell.

 

And those on our side

The newspapers, the columnists

The big mouths

Stop spreading the hate - you’re as bad as them, and as responsible.

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

be a man

View suicideslug's Full Portfolio

You're not welcome here.

You came about a month ago looking to stay the night

You just wanted a place for your kids to rest their head and you’d be gone in the morning light

A month has come and gone but your still here

Three extra mouth's to feed and you drank all the beer

We didn't have much, We gave you all we could 

You took it all and then asked for more 

No please

No thank you

No offer to help with the bills

My mother is afraid to tell you there's the door

As you have a bad temper that we don't want to appear 

Your kids are rambunctious and rude 

They have broken the cross my dearly departed Nan keep in her room 

My mother is in tears 

She doesn’t know what to do

My younger sister's won't leave their room

My mother has told me to shut my mouth and don't be rude

But soon that won't be enough 

You may be rough and tough 

But so am I

One more wrong move will be enough.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Let me know about any spelling mistakes. 

View toes_are_never_warm's Full Portfolio

FUCK

Fuck this world, fuck this life, fuck you if you give me strife

I don't care, I don't wanna care

This world is doing nothing but leaving me bare.

Tell me, what's stopping me,

from grabbing this blade, cutting, and watching me bleed?

You don't care, so why should I?

You'll just walk if you see me die.

View death_from_a_kiss's Full Portfolio

I wonder...if we saw everyone as a child, our child...would the world be a different place? If we saw in others our children’s purity...their smile, their eyes...their face Would we be as quick to shun them, to close our hearts...our shore As quick to ju

I wonder...if we saw everyone as a child, our child...would the world be a different place?
If we saw in others our children’s purity...their smile, their eyes...their face

Would we be as quick to shun them, to close our hearts...our shore
As quick to judge or hate them...as quick to go to war?

View joy's Full Portfolio