M: Favorites

Oct 2015 M

ConnectHook

prison walls enclose sky
darkness sparks pyre
definite
articles get cut out

where rivers empty
into bitter oceans

where mix
morbid metaphors
of narcissism

to test my dead flesh
in vacated premises
condemned to destruction

blade as absent tenant

insert line about cutting here
then murmur teenage angst
over lost boyfriend
lifes meaninglessness etc

add some more weird
unpunctuated lines

oozing like a mediocre
razor ****

no caps even

then arbitrarily bold something
as if you knew what the hell
you were blathering on about

holy band-aid batman

my poetry *****
(does yours ? )

now hit "like" -
you emo-depressive herd animals !

☺☠☺☠☺☠☺

#depression #emo #teenangst #dullpoetry #boringverse

Aug 2015 M

Broken Soul

Aug 2015 M

GailForceWinds

Broken Soul

I’ve lost my spirit
Is it dead or just sleeping
I can’t wake it up
I can’t stop the weeping

I once was full of life
Now I feel like death
A hollow body
Taking its last breathe

Where do I look
Where do I go
My spirit is still out there
But where, I don’t know

When did this start
I’ve lost track of time
A broken heart
Was that the first sign

I’ve lost my smile
My zest for life
My soul is broken
I’m left in strife

Aug 2015 M

My Brother, Jake

Aug 2015 M

Francie Lynch

My Brother, Jake

My brother, Jake,
He had what it takes;
Shaved when he was eight,
Strong as a boa snake.
He had hair
Like Ringo Starr,
But played guitar
Like Ravi on sitar.

My brother, Jake,
He grew to six foot eight;
He had arms like legs,
Muscles like beer kegs.
He was fast,
With a ball,
His speed could do it all.
And he could speak,
Like a priest,
He kept us all enthralled.
His wit,
It was quick,
And sharp as a paring knife:
He was funny,
He was cruel,
And well thought of at school.

My brother, Jake,
Had a running streak
Up his back,
At the sign
Of any trouble,
He left on the double,
That's my brother, Jake.

So you see,
As I see,
Size is allegory.
Jake's stature
May bring rapture,
But he's a little man to me.

#brothers #beatles #cowardice #ravishankar

Aug 2015 M

I said I wouldn't write about you

Aug 2015 M

Monika

I said I wouldn't write about you

When he asks you to write about him, remind him that you are not that kind of poet. When he asks you to describe his eyes, stop yourself from telling him how bright they are and how they remind you of the stars you stare at in the late night. Do not tell him they are brighter than any of those stars and while they may not light up the whole sky, they sure as hell light up your heart. Instead, smile and tell him that they are just blue – nothing is very special about them. He will ask you why your hands and lips tremble when you're with him, but you mustn't explain how fast your heart beats when he looks at you, or how sometimes you swear your lungs fill up with smoke when you hear him laugh soundly because of something you said. You shouldn't write about him, because you're not the kind of girl that writes about someone who could be here one day, and easily gone the next.

"I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars."

Aug 2015 M

Pieces

Aug 2015 M

Born

Pieces

There has to be a way to leave all my ghosts behind

Aug 2015 M

Nocturnal Reflections

Aug 2015 M

Sally A Bayan

Nocturnal Reflections

(When The Rains Come)

Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow

Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...

In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations

Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.

Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.

Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.

The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?

Sally

Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

#rainshomelessdarkspacesangelsdemonsvalleyg

Aug 2015 M

scar tissue

Aug 2015 M

HRTsOnFyR

scar tissue

I watch the blade pierce my skin, yet I feel nothing

Pearls of blood gather in the seams of the wound

An errant thumb smears across the coppery beads of life

Staining the subtle, spidered paths of my palms

I lack the courage to push deeper

I try not to curse the steel as I feel my hand shaking

A crooked "T" forms out of the scar tissue

An odd accompaniment to the fading india ink smiley face I so proudly engraved at 12

The angry pink flesh of my grief cries out for recognition

With a pasty blue grin, the naivety of my youth only mocks this unspeakable pain

Tears fall quietly down my face as I prepare for another wave of pretending...

Another wave of forgetting
Of regretting...
Of blood letting.

I will always love you Tyson

#scartissue #homemadetattoos #griefisstrange