Tag: poetry

  • Troy Davis

    furorpoeticus:

    When faced with global immorality,
    And there is nothing one can change,
    It is not the ethical illogicality
    That leaves one sad or enraged.
    It is this very helplessness,
    This collective guilt of consciousness,
    That wears away at our bones
    More than acid, whips, and stones. 

  • this is what stabbing looks like

    wearemostaliveindreams:

    if you keep,
    it all bottled up
    inside your heart-

    -so that the words
    never, leave your teeth.

                                                              eventually,
                                                              it will explode

                                                              but,
                                                              you will be alone

    because no one, likes a liar
    that never seems to speak.

    you lie with your eyes,
    you lie with your mouth.

    you lie with your eyes,
    and never open your mouth.

    how can trust
    ever exist,
    with someone
    that never,
    speaks
    their
    heart?

    no one likes a liar,
    that never says a word.

  • Creative Exercise

    Put your mouth on my eyelids and kiss me where I’ve been blessed.  Bless me, bless you

    darling  

    said goodbye last night.  He meant to leave before the sun rose, but he just stood in the doorway not ready to 

    forget

    me, forget you.  The thing is, we can’t forget and that’s the curse we carry as 

    humans

    we’re designed with a purpose.  What is this purpose?  Well, we’ve forgotten over time.. Oh wait I just said we can’t forget; Humans too are full of 

    contradictions

    fall like dandruff from your hair, time and time again, as your fingers snap to the cheery beats and your eyes sob for your 

    sorrow

    left us dry and with no rain, left us basking in our shame, baking, blistered by our

    pain

    bleeds, but that blood soon scabs and when it’s dry and bitter you can flake it right 

    off

    on, off, on, off.  The light switch gets sick.  I like it better with the lights 

    on

    my skin, the flesh of a womb, you cum so happily 

    content

    is something I’ve found that I pray to God I never lose.  I pray to God I still find 

    fulfillment

    is a prism shaped word that sits charming and dazzling on the imagination of my 

    tongue

    tasting, I long to taste the flavor, and when I do I’ll smile, full.

    j-r-morgan

  • memoirofme:
    behind every door a soul hides behind every door a soul cries behind all four walls and one door i die a little inside i cry my tear ducts dry but most of all i hide behind a broken smile a broken door i know im not alone i know its not only me because if it was

    behind closed doors…

  • ψεύτης

    You like lying on my floor;

    you like lying

    with every breath.

    Like it’s the carbon dioxide

    to your oxygen.

    And oxygen is what I’ve lacked

    since the kiss we shared.

    But you don’t know how to share completely.

    Feelings, secrets, and nights

    are cemented and imprisoned

    in your memories.

    I will forever remember you.

    You, as you lye on my floor lying.

    by: me.

    8/10/11

  • Solitude

    Laugh, and the world laughs with you:
    Weep, and you weep alone;
    For the sad old earth
    Must borrow its mirth,
    It has trouble enough of its own.

    Sing, and the hills will answer;
    Sigh, it is lost on the air;
    The echoes bound
    To a joyful sound,
    But shrink from voicing care.

    Rejoice, and men will seek you;
    Grieve, and they turn and go;
    They want full measure
    Of all your pleasure,
    But they do not want your woe.

    Be glad, and your friends are many;
    Be sad, and you lose them all;
    There are none to decline
    Your nectared wine,
    But alone you must drink life’s gall.

    Feast, and your halls are crowded;
    Fast, and the world goes by;
    Succeed and give,
    And it helps you live,
    But it cannot help you die.

    There is room in the halls of pleasure
    For a long and lordly train;
    But one by one
    We must all file on
    Through the narrow aisles of pain.

    ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

  • When I am dead, my dearest

    When I am dead, my dearest,
             Sing no sad songs for me;
    Plant thou no roses at my head,
             Nor shady cypress tree:
    Be the green grass above me
             With showers and dewdrops wet;
    And if thou wilt, remember,
             And if thou wilt, forget.

    I shall not see the shadows,
             I shall not feel the rain;
    I shall not hear the nightingale
             Sing on, as if in pain:
    And dreaming through the twilight
             That doth not rise nor set,
    Haply I may remember,
             And haply may forget.

    ~ Christina Rossetti

  • She is a lie

    undertheforensicsmicroscope:

    An unearthly void

    winning the game of pretend

    Her careful steps and soothing whispers,

    A saintly disguise

    If you dare thread her face

    you’ll see the unreal sorrow 

    and her tears, flavoured with gloom,

    a flow of rhythmic agony

    Stitching you in slowly

    in her tapestry of calumnies.