Poetry

Details: Written by: el socialisto; Category: Poetry; Created: May 4, 2013, 12:38 am; Hits: 1597

Our minds are a strange region indeed. I don’t know why I chose to write about Patrick sitting in the dark. Perhaps it was simply the best way to hide the tears. The memories used to be constant. Now, my mind is starting to block out the fact that he’s not here. Somewhere from deep within, it has made the natural decision to move the only way possible – to acknowledge that the pain is still too much to bear, and that in these real time moments the reconciliation of his death is far from being achieved. There is no way to move forward. Being alone with my thoughts wasn’t healthy; being surrounded by people seemed worse. I often thought being stoned, drinking wine,

Read more: Morphine in March

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Details: Written by: BEtling; Category: Poetry; Created: May 1, 2013, 3:20 am; Hits: 1231

bringing the shirt to my face,

I clasp it

over my nose and mouth the way

I imagine people would do in some kind of smoky emergency,

like a wildfire or a collapsing building, which is a thing

I'm not sure of,

never having been in any such emergency,

though I'm confident I have the right form.

in much that same way,

I'm uncertain if

the smell I'm getting is of cologne

or of sweat

or of fabric.

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Details: Written by: Vangoman/ Dan Van Fleet; Category: Poetry; Created: April 29, 2013, 9:58 pm; Hits: 1890

Of what decay of decline must a man climb

Where inmate traits imitates honor and grace

Can sun feel such heat from such cold defeat?

As relentless cost forever’s erases retreat

And where waiting answers have been annealed

In the darkest of all black bar fields

In prayer of answers shall it one day come

In sunshine fields of raining dung

And loneliness pukes out any friend

In an eight by ten

Come six foot ends

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Details: Written by: BEtling; Category: Poetry; Created: April 29, 2013, 7:25 pm; Hits: 1616

according to someone, absolute liberty

is absence of restraint, which

makes sense to me in some

of my weaker moments.

I think, as I often do,

about animals. more specifically,

I think about lions,

which, I've been told, don't keep a mate

and are the only animals besides man

that have sex for pleasure.

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Details: Written by: wickedwahine_69; Category: Poetry; Created: April 17, 2013, 7:21 am; Hits: 2305

Beeeee...

Belted the sheep wearing wolfs' skin,

Beeeeee very afraid, all of the time.

Look above you,

Look behind you,

Look around you,

Look inside you,

I have no need to hide...

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Details: Written by: Uniquely...Disfunctional; Category: Poetry; Created: April 1, 2013, 12:12 pm; Hits: 1516

The autumn night chill that crawls up my spine,
I traced my tongue in nips against chattering teeth,
I remained fluid from the heat at my core, the lust for the night-
The unknown that remained crouched in the gorged shadows,
The sweat is the beat of the satanic sounds drowning the loudspeaker.
I am the height, falling into the teeth of hell I once romanticized.
I don’t want to journey this odyssey of overcast eyes,
Eyes that melt into screams that scatter on the wind,
Take my hand before I am pulled into the glimpse of hell,
And become that dark that day dreams of light.