power

thrown under the bus

nowadays all she does is whine about her bodily pains,

but when you were left alone, 

she stayed drunk, prowling the bars

days on end, 

oblivious to the emotional wreckage left

on your chest, like a hot iron

melted through the tender heart of a 10 year old,

the open wound to the 

skin, 

cauterized shut

too soon,

without even leaving any open flesh

for the pain to be released,

seared closed with the shame, pain, and false pride of generations,

sealed in for years like a safety box of magnets,

pulling you towards anything and everything self-destructive

in a desperate search for some morsel of hope,

that the next christmas dinner might be more than 

knocking on the doors of neighbors, being lucky enough to be

asked in to share a holiday meal, 

and an attempt to be noticed for something other than the burden

you were to her deep and fervent longing for 

the escape, into smoke filled rooms,

that reeked with the heavy, putrid smell of week-old frying grease,

cigarettes, and hairspray, that became one of your main

reasons for going to live with your dad--

other than the day she up and left for california,

a 50 dollar bill to substitute her mac and cheese, dribbled with 

one and a half inches of ashes off a pall mall,

only to be less than reluctantly welcomed by him,

and a stepbrother who most always was 

notably more worthy of better dirtbikes, nicer clothes 

and a much more frequent pat on the back 

for a job well done, 

that most often wasn't.

 

a dollar for him and quarter for you, along with the bottom bunk,

that smelled like pee from all the years he wet the bed,

only ever good enough for sloppy seconds--

and then there was brownie,

poor broken down swayback, with skin infections,

baldspots and degenertive bone disease,

in light of your brother's black stallion stud,

as if the 6 inch scar on the back of your leg wasn't enough 

from your father's drunken rage with a 4 inch hunting knife,

and the glass from the window that left it's souvenir the night he threw you

across the room, all before the age of 14.

 

shit.

i may have shot that horse between the eyes too.

 

 

 

 

11:37 PM 6/26/2013

©

 

 

.........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a poem about a kid.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=

 

.....

blinding power

what a sad man,

up on his throne brought up so high to not see his own flaws,

his own mistakes , he will fall,no one will remember him,

they wont remember his house or the cars he drives .

in the end his throne will fade, he will fall,

emotions fray he will flee only to be stabbed by reality, realizing he was blind the hole time .

View snow's Full Portfolio
tags:

4 Kings

-Incomplete. Sample Purposes Only-

 

As we, the fated kings ascend, there’s an ominous black wind that foretells of our dominance being at hand. We’re heralded as the world’s end since all the pretend heroes they once hailed have failed; or better yet they’ve been felled. It’s called doomsday, a dark day because all the illusions will be dispelled, the frauds exposed and expelled for the proposed truths they’d never tell. We’re a catastrophe in the face of their hypocrisy as the claim in their names is stripped of the apostrophe. 

View tyrantking's Full Portfolio

Silently - March 22, 2013

 

I am a new aquaintance that is yet to make a sound.

Yet to be understood, I show no feelings aloud.

When I depart from the public, go home to flee,

I feel the need to tease, to please my sanity.

Silently, I cry. Silently, I die. Silently, I try

to overcome my insanity; bridge over the pain in me.

 

You make me feel like an outcast just because I'm not like you.

Should I be like who? I'm sick of your complaining,

you're straining me, draining me of energy. Listen to me, please.

It's not you, it's me! My plea for individuality is wrong;

too long do I have to wait for acceptance; you'll never repent this.

Take my fist and bury it under the sand; my will in your hands.

I'm powerless against conformity. I'm just a deformity

on this tumor you call me. Free me of this disease,

I'm fucking begging, on me knees. Please, please,

make me who you want me to be. Tell me, please, what you want to see.

I don't care if it's not me. Make a new me. One you want to see.

Make me what you want to see.

View unheilig's Full Portfolio

She Said

when I look to the window outside, she said. it hurts as the world passes me by, she said.

this sharp ivy grows around my heart, she said.. leaving holes inside.

 

I want to hear the sound of the grass beneath my footsteps.. the wind pushing forward.. 

I want to see the sunlight beam into your eyes, & right through back to me.. so lovely..

to hold you & know it's okay, even for more then awhile, to get lost just lying there, admiring that smile..

you'll always be precious to me.

 

I never gave you up willingly.. it's the way things came to be.. great memories, but greater pain.. 

so full & complete, then so drained.. fragments floating around, everything that used to be..

debris.. in this cloud, drifting down.. 

 

to me your pain is so loud.. I can hear your screams from afar, like they're all kept in a jar.. thrown around..

smashed is the glass, it shatters deep inside of me.. shards left where you once were.. 

the screams are traveling through, these veins course, wishing to intertwine & convene with blood we both keep warm..

become one.. 

 

i'm sorry this pathetic heart is so latched onto you, & that my mind cries out for freedom, to penetrate the atmosphere..

this grey sky feels so confining, like the clouds are keeping us where we are.

no escape.. miserable daze..

some day i'll fly through these clouds, & into my own world of happy haze.. 

where the memories are far weaker then the future, or power of my dreams.. 

Yog-Sothoth: The All In One

Folder: 
Poetry

Yog-Sothoth 

 

Dwelling in the interstices between planes,
Composing the Universe.
Manifestation as a conglomeration,
Globes shifting, flowing into another.

 

Deity of Sorcerers and Wizards,
Granting them great power
To travel between the planes
To see into a plane through crystal globes.

 
Commanding various monsters
From distant worlds...

Gifts in return,
Opening the way
For Yog-Sothoth
To travel from His domain.

 

Tawil at'Umr;
Wishing to travel to distant places.
Being the least malignant
Him unveiled
Causes great sacrifice.

 

Utterly mad,
Destruction on its path.

The Cult of Ne-Pang
Is a Yog-Sothoth Cult.
Order of the Silver Twilight
The Temphill Cult
Claim this name too.

 

Power to travel within the planes,
Reaching any other time or space.
He is the Key and the Gate.
Opener of the Way,
Wishing to enter this plane.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Cthulhu Mythos Deity Yog-Sothoth.

View barbelzoa's Full Portfolio

Trial by Media

Mourning for a loss long gone,
The shadows collect dust.
While progress stagnates a nation;
Holding its breath under water,
Too afraid to rise and inhale,
They’re going under.

No circumstances can revoke the true calling,
Born to power, though none have fared to be the example.
A pedestal crumbling at its very foundation,
Old world opinion dressed in new linen.
The pirates and plunderers are now completely grounded,
With man-made rules trapping their exploitations.

No facts will remain, but the scandal’s a winner,
No need for the lynching when there’s a trial by media.
Watch the fall of an empire by satellite,
With a television screen and blotted rag paper.

Are you sure I'm a member?

I've awed and I've cried

I've walked a divide.

I've run and I've sung

My life barely begun.

 

Tumbled through mountains,

Got soaked in the rain.

Suffered humilities,

I'll never mention again.

 

Been round the bend,

A wee bit, time or two

But how can any one person,

Make it all through??

 

I thought to myself,

What a ridiculous place

To trample about,

With a big leather case.

 

Work me to death,

I'm up at all hours,

I'm sure there's a reason,

You own all my power...

 

Why this for you,

and not even for me?

Why all for some,

yet others get none?

 

All of these rules,

That change by the hour,

Are all contradictory

And more than just dour.

Who made this law,

That we all have to follow.

Your way, or the high way,

It seems a bit hollow.

 

Why am I here?

'cause I don't remember;

Did I choose this club?

Are you sure I'm a member?

In either case sparky,

Here's how it goes,

I'm breaking tradition,

So come and behold;

 

As I change my life daily

To encumber your cause,

I'm the sun to your cloud,

If ever there wuz.

:)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I haven't actually written poetry in some years... and what's pouring out now is not at all what i was expecting!! lol, it's definintely different than anything I've ever written... and is it just me, or does anyone else get a Dr. Seus feeling?? At any rate, please enjoy, I welcome your thoughts :) Bless you, Bless you, Bless you

View bellafyre's Full Portfolio

my ode entitled 'happy to be blessed'

Folder: 
spirituality

Happy to be blessed

Happy to be blessed
With god given gifts
Well no, not really
Born with all of it

But only just woke to
The matrix: So cruel
The bloodlines of cain
Love humanities suffering

But Dark cannot stand light
Need love and bright
To illuminate the illuminati
Otherwise are distinctly nazi

Love is the cosmos foundation
Erased from every nation
Rulers: Divide and conquer
W hen all sister and brother

Power of love: A ma zing
Cuts like a laser
Lifts when your down
Also erases that frown

And increases your vibration
Better still, be vegetarian
Dog eat dog today
TRUST : isn’t gods way

Master Jesus’s kick is
Peace, love and selflessness
Lacking in the west
YOU’R job to redress

That particular balance
Spread love like petals
At a divine festival
Bonus is: There’s no Hell

It’s your choice: Choose
Light not the dark
Love, not the hate
Then lifes just great

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