Hate

A Poet Afloat

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"Find out

exactly what it is about,

what words flirt around;

being inspired. 

 

Seeing, 

hearing 

a piece of art,

hardrock rhymes

 

that tell what has transpired,

what had rambled on by.

Hard times,

or that feel-good story

 

that is too cliche for news

nowadays,

no love to be found.

Between then and now,

 

after everything that has happened,

still trying to climb a side of a mountain.

Reach up above and find purchase,

pull yourself onto the ledge,

 

overcome that edge.

Inspirational,

overcoming what supposed story

has made times get harder.

 

Determination

denotes what is to be,

or what can be deemed

a possibility. 

 

So is it inspirational,

it being anything, 

just because it had been done

by one who downplays the feat?

 

Nay,

it feels good instead,

the rushing feeling

of creating, being

 

involved in something more than me,

kittens and puppies,

dogs too,

more than you,

 

inspired to make a difference

because I had made made one 

to your day, 

or so you say.

 

As long as what is being inspired

doesn't bring the end

of art,

of love and life,

 

I'll do it every day,

I'll inspire,

unintentionally,

that's the point.

 

I think.

 

Nothing in this world compares,

being lost at sea;

tidal waves won't let me be.

 

So poetry,

a release to me,

inpires others?

I can live with that,

 

be it the truth."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Having written poetry for a little more than a year now I see a lot of comments about how much people can relate to my work, mostly due to how some can read it and feel a sense of vulnerability, or truth. I never try to write a piece to just one person but time and again more people feel that some of my work is almost made out to just them. 

 

I'm okay with that, since I get that comment more than once. Ego on high, I suppose.

SWaG & THe TRiP DoWN THe RaBBiT'S SHiTHoLe

 Lyrics: 


"he's such an uppity motherfucker

dripping with douchebaggery

but he's got swag..."

 

*   *   * 

 

a collective of offended morons

who share a narrow world view

with every keystroke 


prancing along with blinders

to pervert what they see as truth

internet superheroes


 hive minded individuals

who see insufferable injustice

in every word uttered


a culture of victimhood found

in every innocuous glance their way


the first world problems of today

magnified by fanatics and sheer idiocy


social justice warriors on their high horse riding on

one way trip down the rabbit's shithole

 

"it's ok,  it's all a fucking safe place"

"the world as it really is and always will be can't hurt your delicate sensabilities here"

"just cover your ears and close your eyes"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"


la la la

la-tee-da

la la la

la-tee-do

la la la

this has nothing to do with you

la la la

la-tee-da

la la la 

la-tee-do

la la la

but maybe someday you'll piece together the fucking clues


we're the disease

and there can be no justice

as long as our race breathes

we'll always hate

we'll always kill

we'll always subjugate

we always have and always will


 




 




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

View bloodshotlies's Full Portfolio

My mistake

My Mistake

 

 

Who is that? 

There, in the darkened corner. 

A shift of the light. 

Are those hoovs he stands on? 

My eyes adjust a bit. 

Long, twisted, needle sharp horns

Lightning

Glistening deep red skin,, no,, scales? 

Curtains blow aside, allowing light. 

Fingernails, wait,,,   talons. 

My sight clears a little more. 

A cats eyes

Jagged, misshapen, yellow fangs.

I sweat. 

Mouth so dry. 

Am I shaking ? 

Corded muscle, huge, impossibly powerful, uncontrollable. 

My eyes see clearly now. 

Ribs ? Exposed bone, rendt flesh. 

What?  My face, on his. Why ? 

Ough,  the stench.

Music ? What is this ? 

No! He comes toward me

Steady gate, knowing smile. 

I can't move. 

A deep mocking bow in front of me . 

His taloned hand, reaching,  but palm up?

The music,  louder now. 

I realize..... 

God, help me. He wants to dance. 

Why am I taking his hand....... 

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Self explanatory I think. 

View wretchedfool's Full Portfolio

My Sickness

Empty. Nothing. Full of grey.

Black soul. Black eyes. I have no name.

If only everyone could see,

the storm that's raging inside of me.

Fake smile. Fake laugh. Fake everything.

Drinking, cutting, need to feel that sting.

Can't hide these feelings anymore.

They keep escaping through my locked door.

Demons surrounding me, spinning in my head.

Why won't they go? They want me dead.

I'm losing control and going insane.

Promise you won't hate me? I'm not to blame.

I'm sick and it's just been so long.

My mind is a blur , I'm too far gone.

Living in her Head

Folder: 
2016

Demons jump amongst the tortured souls,

They skip across streets leading nowhere,

And hop over valleys of gloom.

 

They’ve built walls,

Destroyed dreams,

Obliterated all hope.

 

They whisper secrets and mistruths,

Spread gossip like 3rd world diseases,

Hold no accountability before moving on.

 

Demons blind the eyes,

Mute the mouth,

And deafen the ears.

 

Living in a world of fiery hell

That no one else can feel.

 

View coldheat's Full Portfolio

Black Thalia

Folder: 
Thalia

I loved you

You made me

This love

It's deadly

 

That bright future

That I drew

Lost to everything

You put me through

 

I've done everything

That I ever could

I've done for you

More than I should

 

After all the pain

You caused

You turned away

Left it paused

 

You never tried

To persue this love

You stepped away

Watched from above

 

You watched me struggle

You watched me suffer

Showed you were weak

That I was tougher

 

And these lungs

Have sung

This song

For too long

 

It's time I let

Everything go

Let it disappear

Beneath the snow

 

All we had

All I miss

It's over now

Lost in the abyss

 

It's true

I hurt too

Remember

I loved you

View d'archangel's Full Portfolio

On Faithfulness

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"Don't get so frustrated, 

it's only a book, 

or a few words

that you threw,

 

hoping they might stick.

Sound familiar?

Surreal,

especially if you've stuck with it.

 

Life can be funny like that,

in fact, it is,

that the same things

seem to alwaus happen

 

to people who may wish

it wasn't the case;

assuming it's negative.

Once you give it a second

 

to process,

it's wild to think

the same exact advice

you give

 

is the opposite

of how you live

your own life.

Some advice...

 

Twice now I've had to step in.

To stop the golden desires

of sundrops on skin,

forbidden,

 

when there has already been seeds sown,

a tree has been growing,

and now there's doubt,

the axe lays on its side

 

nearby. Nearly every time,

it can hurt to cry,

but not if infidelity

is the reason why. At least,

 

let's hope 

that's not the case.

I'd hate to see the fallout,

it'd be all over the place."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just some thoughts on my ever-increasing number of friends who have yet to reach relationship goals... 

The Field

Torrents of hazy clouds begin to block out my happiness as I sit waiting for my mind to release me from my perpetual imprisonment from these chains of broken people and run down lies I tell myself to keep aloft in these dark days. As I look around, bare gnarled trees flex their fingers and are the only witnesses to this hell that I have incarcerated myself within. The sky goes darker as I find nothing within me to brighten the few stable thoughts that I have recycled too many times. My affection for the desire to breathe and take my revenge cements the chains and acts to drive the few things around me that have not already made their escape from my black hole of cycled misery. The grass goes black and the ground dries to a bone like state as I scream to stab my torturers.

 

The field is dead and I am its killer, so filled with loathing that my acidic personality caused it to shrivel and become a lifeless waste where even the worms of self pity and vultures of depression dare not tread in fear of dying due to the lack of prey: My happiness long since dried up and the few ideas of self righteousness consumed by my horrible self. I try to unclench my fist but as I do so, my bones break and cease to be flexible. I shriek in an effort to portray that I care about this, but I don't.

I know I don't.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

First Poem! Hope you enjoy this, just want to know peoples opinions on this type of writing :)

Gorgeous revenge

The severity of the situation is reaching an all time hi

should I violently react or just let it fly?

your engorged words have pierced the innocent ghost

a 40 ton wieght of revenge is what would get me off the most

if I choose the darkened path my future will cease to exist

however the beautifully dressed possibilty of revenge is at the top of list

like a beast in the night, a monsters dreams, like a lions roar

maybe someday I'll have no choice but to deliver death to your door.