What is a poem?
Perhaps a free thought, Just floating in the air?
Maybe a feeling, A mix of many different emotions?
What is a poem?
It is what ever you make it.
That's what a poem is.
A poem is me.
They are the only images I see when I shut my eyes. I tried closing them tighter, to get rid of the gruesome memories, but they just become more vivid and alive. Somehow they've made me numb and frozen. I guess I am thankful. If I were to constantly break down every time I thought of those memories I'd surely lose my mind. Not that I haven't, at least not much.
I stare out of my cracked window. The rain is really coming down. The sun has almost vanished and I know I should be getting up soon. If I don't then there will be consequences. Not severe, but consequences nonetheless.
As I'm dressing in all skin tight black there's a shift in the air. Niki materializes in my peripheral, dressed in the same attire. Her black streaked bangs are messy in her face. If ever I could have a best friend, she'd be the one.
"I see you're ready," she says.
"Don't we have to be," I tell her.
She half shrugs and pulls her short, blonde, and black hair in a tight pony tail. I p
Sky and Earth
I asked you what it must be like
To see everything,
To feel everything.
Of course, I never did get an answer from you.
So I guess I'll never know.
I can wonder,
I can assume,
I can even conjure up some incredible explanation!
I can let be what is.
But then again, if I were to do so, you would surely be gone forever
Dead to the world,
Lost to me
So many times I thought of joining you,
But I suppose I'm too selfish.
I want to stay attached.
My earth, a solid surface.
If ever I fall I can get back up.
I wanted to ask why you wished to fly all the time,
But it was too late.
I never got around to it.
I decided to lie down,
On my earth,
And just stare above.
Oh how vast!
You smiled upon me then.
And I received all of the answers.
One of us had to stay rooted,
Or the other would surely drift away.
We finally intertwined our fingers.
This is a poem to my mommy, Natasha, who will never know my true thoughts and feelings.
Underneath my cold, rough, and seemingly flawless surface,
you've left my insides tattered, in shambles, shattered.
All because of YOUR failures and hardships.
All because of YOUR shame.
My face left stinging from your anger fueled lashes,
I swore I were an unwanted stepchild.
I thought you purely despised me..
I thought you had no real need for me..
I thought it was I who just failed you....
But I know now that it's just in your nature.
You have no control of your own life,
So you take mine.
You try to live through me.
I wrote this poem because I will always have something inside me that despises you too.
I wrote this for my own comfort.
I wrote this to ful
Can't believe that I feel good enough.
It's been a long time coming,
but I feel good.
Doesn't really matter how I feel inside.
lonely little life.
You're pushing and pulling me down.
I can't say no to you.
It was always you
falling for me,
but I don't know what I want.
Because I've never felt like this before.
I hate this.
I hate this.
For The No Ones
To those who have been branded and bashed from society.
Those who've found comfort and refuge within the shadows
To the ones who put up with the harsh slanders from supposed peers.
For those who wait for the sun to disappear.
To those whose hearts and minds work together as one.
Those who fear the thought of being afraid.
To those whose vast minds are kept concealed.
For those who lose every battle but are victors in the war.
To those you must get to know before you permanently label.
Those who don't know the value of their own worth.
To those who are never sure of who or what they really are.
For those who only have themselves to love;
Like stars that are only appreciated in the night sky.
Not realizing that the sun itself is the biggest star.
They are one with the night,
Soaking up the beautiful darkness.
Remind us all that before the day, darkness was the only light.
Darkness was, and still is, all around us.
So embrace it.
ShadesI'll lay you down upon this bed,
Eyes blinded with a strip of black cloth.
I'll take my time to circle around you.
Enjoying the light aroma of fear and sweat;
Mixed with just a hint of excitement.
I'll see your legs pushed together,
Perhaps in anticipation.
Or would it be the butterflies;
That dance a shade of scarlet upon your cheeks.
I'll take my time to run these fingers
Along your soft milky white skin.
And even before you part your lips to confirm it,
I'll already know that you belong to me.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
RainShe was bloated, swollen in her
Own melancholy moisture
Threadbare at her contours
Unravelled into gray woolen
Strings, too loose for her skin
And they drained off her shoulders
To pool in a waxy heap by her
She was rounded by opaque
Moons, liquid apricity. The life
In her womb churned, awakening
From quiescence. Her being
Shuddered from the maelstrom within
And in a great wailing cry of woe
Her waters burst in a ferocious
She roiled under each contraction
As unearthly poetry thundered from her
Throat, emblazoned with lightning. Her
Child is birthed, swaddled in her failing
Body, decrescendo heartbeat.
And as the babe breathed, the wind
Abandoned her shallow lungs,
I'll Wait by the WaterThis is the place where our memories began.
A creek at the bottom of a canyon,
red cliffs on either side and a giant
pond dam to the north that wildflowers grow on.
Paths that we created through the woods
and up and down those copper canyon walls
while we pretended to be wild Injuns
or wanted outlaws being hunted by a posse.
You were on your knees,
in the middle of the creek,
when I found you.
A neighbor girl, trespassing.
I had a mind to chase you off
until I asked what you were doing.
You looked at me, smiled, and said,
"Catching crawdads. Come help!"
After that day, we spent Springs and Summers
building fort walls and chasing frogs,
skipping stones and arguing baseball,
sharing comic books and trading punches.
You could hit as hard as any boy I knew.
We had our own bridge to Terabithia,
our own kingdoms of knights and castles,
won the World Series with back to back homeruns,
settled the Wild West and discovered gold in the mountains.
My parents thought you were imaginary
until I bro
The Night VisitShe arrives on time each night,
With a flurry of quick footsteps,
Followed by a timid knock at my door.
The reply I give her is often curt,
'Enter,' I'll say
And she does.
I spend a moment taking stock of her appearance:
Noticing bare skin beneath a heavy brown coat.
A few droplets of sweat run down her neck,
And she swallows nervously as she awaits my instruction.
I approach her slowly;
Enjoying this moment where the distance closes.
My eyes take their time to pull her into focus,
And like a bolt of awareness she becomes vivid;
Her lips a sparkling red and utterly lush for a kiss...
Her eyes are doe-eyed and completely tame;
Her makeup is perfect, as I've always liked.
But I can tell, beneath that flawless surface,
That it was rushed under a dim streetlight.
At this point our lips are separated by a bare inch,
I like to leave this distance as I stare into her eyes.
I enjoy the way her breath quickens as I ask her the question,
The question that beg
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
The Death that is Left BehindI.
the layers laid,
alone is a man who scrapes
outward. He is
like the child fallen
down a deep well, who
sees the way is up and yet
scratches stone walls
instead--the flesh of
fingers giving way, symbolizing
a waning vivacity sealed
in the center of his diamond-hard
Sound is a physic; music, a friction--
white hot motion to motionless
souls. It is pain and heat, terrible
and beautiful, healing, and the death
that is left behind.
Memories Long GoneLooking through the pictures
That seem so long ago.
Flipping through my memories
I no longer know.
So many faces I see,
But there's one that stands out.
It's the one I don't recognize,
The one that doesn't count.
I'm wondering where she went;
If I'd look, I'd surely see
The little girl I used to know,
The one who's no longer a part of me.
She used to be so brave,
She never did shed a tear.
She always used to behave,
She never had a single fear.
But all that came crashing down
When you came 'round here.
You dropped her so many times,
No wonder she's broken.
She cries the many words
That have not yet been spoken.
Why can't I remember?
I know I should, can't you see?
That little girl in the picture...
That little girl is me.
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno