Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chad Tannous Apr 2020
Ms. Del Rey says “the world is made for two”,
but her idea of two is some fresh hell;
it’s seems that Lana thinks a girl’s abuse,
is cinematic fodder one can sell.
The other woman sings about her man.
“sO pOPuLIiSt” with flowers on her head.
While some may come from poor & tell the tale,
Del Rey wears being poor like it’s a dress. 
But voices that she channels in her songs,
Bespeak a femme fatale alone, and they,  
Are both no one, and everyone in one.
The guardians of endless summer days.
Sonnet (without the last two lines)  about Lana Del Rey.
YOUR LIFE IS A MOVIE THAT IS BEING DIRECTED BY YOU, PRODUCED BY THE YOU, YOU ARE THE PROTAGONIST AND YOU SHOULD BE THE ONLY CRITIC OF IT.. SO LIVE IT LIKE YOU WANT.
You don't owe anyone anything and everyone is different so embrace your uniqueness and live your life to the fullest.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
****** Analysis
by Michael R. Burch

This is not what I need . . .
****-ysis,
paralysis,
as though I were a seed
to be planted,
supported
with a stick and some string
until I emerge.
Your words
are not water. I need something
more nourishing,
like cherishing,
something essential, like love
so that when I climb
out of the lime
and the mulch. When I shove
myself up
from the muck . . .
we can ****.

Originally published by Unlikely Stories. Keywords/Tags: analysis, paralysis, psychoanalysis, words, nourishing, cherishing, essential, love, muck, ****, ***
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
She tied a black ribbon around my wrist
Like a dark lake reflecting moonlight
And in my enchantment, I missed
The ribbon was tied far too tight

She tied a black ribbon around my neck
So cold on my skin like ice
And in my fervor, I failed to see
The ribbon was knotted up thrice

She tied a black ribbon around my heart
Winding its way through my veins
She gave a tug, and I gave a start
As her ribbon turned out to be chains
This is a really dark poem that came about from being young and dating.  I was really into this girl who didn't view me the same way.  Instead of letting me down, she carried me along.  I was too stupid to see that I was being used and couldn't get out of the situation.  The poem is built on a simple lyrical rhyme structure.  Hope you guys like it!
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Your arms grow tired
When you
Bear a heavy axe
Sarah L Jan 2020
I am uncertain of my body,
how strong it is, how little it appears that way
having hurled itself into danger several times
and coming out only with a few hand scars
see its muscle
see its fat, unneeded storage,
look and don't touch, please.

The soft thrumming of my heart
in my throat shows how strong it is,
sneaking its way up
to where it shouldn't be
see its battle scars
see its healing wounds--
still festering, a little raw.
look and don't touch, please.

I've got a strong jaw and a chin
with an irritated red galaxy on it,
an odd contradiction between
soft and hard--
see the constellation in my scarring,
a rude connect the dots you shouldn't be playing,
look and don't touch, please.

I look out from hazel glass,
flecked with hidden gold foil
you see if you stare long enough,
but staring would be rude--
see the one way mirror,
so that you stare at you and not me,
look and don't touch, please.

My fingers are long and spindly,
artist's hands,
the webbing in between makes them seem smaller--
see the raised marks,
see the wearing nailpolish,
my hands are an artist's hands too.
look and don't touch, please.
An analysis of some of my body.
Psychostasis Nov 2019
I've been thinking about you each day, maybe twice
And how disfigured your world views can get
And how I could help if I could go back with abilities to stop regrets

I'd tell you not to worry but I know that's a lost cause
Because back then you were trying to treat your feelings with rap gauze

I'd tell you love yourself because you're the only one that matters
Or maybe tell you how my brain works now, to see if you'd get sadder
I know the world was built on shakey grounds of lots of stress
But no one you know thinks like you son,
That was your genesis

I would tell you how you should see your dad
But back then if anyone bad talked the family you'd get mad
So maybe I can tell you why everyone is out to hurt you
Or why you'll try to make your life close the ******* curtain.

Maybe I can give you space to ****** grieve
Over your aunts, uncles and friends that had to leave
Maybe discourage your ambitions and untie the knot
I know life's a surplus of vacant parking lots
Where dreams, ambitions and desires start punching rocks
Until they're morphed into creatures you refuse to acknowledge
Until your final break down at the "Pittsburgh Rip off College"

Maybe I could tell you to feel your pain
Or lessen the impact of prescription drugs on that younger brain
Maybe even make you into who you're meant to be
But I fear that that answer maybe me

I'd tell you to talk to mom, and open up
Take up the vacant room she left you in that hut
I'd help you sleep at night with soulful lullabies
And put you to sleep with our own hurt pride

Maybe if I could bleed the effects of the pre-condition
You'd be intelligent and have some kind of ancient wisdom
Lessons that stuck from two worlds apart
But most of all, I'd tell you to take the sleeve from that bleeding heart
There's no wound to nurse once you break the silence
Because the only reason it still hurts is cuz you're keeping quiet

You'll grow up to be a manipulator
The kind of person you won't despise until much later
The kind of person that uses people for mental exercise
The person who isn't afraid to resort to lies.

Sometimes I wonder if it would even make a difference
Or if the timeline would adjust the route,
Like a downhill liquid.

I killed myself to make me view
That life is how I see it,
So now I look at you.
Jack Jenkins Nov 2019
I see my friends in new relationships, in bliss
I'm happy for them
I'm also a bit bitter if I'm being honest
And if I'm being honest I'm never really honest
It's a protection plan of mine like
the kind you get when you're at the checkout and the
cashier who's on her
second hour of overtime
says that for thirty extras dollars all your broken parts can be fixed
if you bring it back
There was an asterisk next to the plan
Terms and Conditions apply, please sign here
so when you bring it back with a shattered screen
they say they can't help you because you did it to yourself
And I've done this
thing
to myself
Over and over and over again
Waiting for the time it works
The right formula of time multiplied by distance divided by maturity
But the solution I come up with always equals zero no matter what numbers I move around it stays the same
I don't commit because I've committed too much before
I don't walk on those egg shells anymore
When I love there is an asterisk next to my heart
Terms and Conditions apply, please sign here
Don't get too close because you might see me without my mask
And unmasked me is brutal and burnt out
As frail as thin ice covering the pond of his regrets
I've grown old groaning on about these things
A cold king with a cold crown sitting on a cold throne
alone
And I don't want to be alone but I don't want to change
This is normal for me and it feels safe even if it is killing me slowly
Nobody has been through my shoes
You can sympathize but don't ever say you can empathize
You have not seen through my eyes or felt with my heart
There are parts of me I lost with every step forward I took in absolute fearlessness and faith and it crippled me
So don't act like I have those parts of me, still
There are things I just cannot do anymore
Like an amputee who can't feel his wife's hand in his anymore
Like a paraplegic who can't run a marathon anymore'
Like a young boy who spent his love in fullness and never got any back
Please, just accept that this is who I am and I can't change that
Because it's not in my nature anymore
It just can't happen
//On love//
Sean Thienpont Oct 2019
Blood piercing my skin
Salvation a damnation in my mind
Quick like the scent of sin
Horrors crucifix rewind
Endlessly endless
Folk hearts and celibace

An age too unknown for hell
The driver is there as well
On a cross
How I was feeling last night...
Breanna W May 2019
The people in my class analyzed poetry
With finely sharpened pencils
And color coordinated pens.
                          I don’t understand.
                                          I thought poetry spewed from within,
                                          Without care,
                                          Out of necessity,
                                          Out of the need to rip the bullet from
                                          One’s heart,
                          Out of the need to
                          Save oneself.
This isn't super good, but I thought it needed to be said anyways.
Next page