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.
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
z.perhaps i was born to be a bird for you,
grey wings sprouting from distended shoulder bones;
the inside of your eyes are darker than midnight,
your hands having bled blue until you could see right through them,
glasslike, they shimmer around my face
& it doesn't matter that they're cold,
the mountain ridges that you've carved for yourself are not something to shy away from,
not something to be ashamed of;
lie still as i run my hands like hikers across your mistakes,
your old certainties,
lie still as i discover how it is that you came to be here now,
so quiet & unsure,
so caught within the old sheet of your past,
lie still as i discover every fuck up you've ever made,
every moment of control that slipped out of reach,
every extra drop of sanity that escaped from your pores.
i have always shivered my way into tomorrow,
too busy searching for something i couldn't find to warm my own bones,
too busy to realize that i was dying of a chill i couldn't cont
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
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his fingers
where they do not belong.
What made these men think, she
is just a sex object, a toy that could be
put on display, and taken whenever they
Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
Proud she is though, that she hasnt
given in, hasnt
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
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
i met a girl today
who was not golden-haired or blue-eyed,
who was not straight-nosed or full-lipped,
who was not long-legged or slender.
instead i met a girl
who sang full-bodied notes in both soprano and alto,
who spoke like a king and walked like a queen,
who had a body curved like the moon.
and that was okay.
i met a boy today
who was not muscular or broad-shouldered,
who was not charming or charismatic,
who was not tall or dark or handsome.
instead i met a boy
who had a memory like an elephant,
who wrote like an angel and drew like Monet,
who could churn out sums like a calculator.
and that was okay.
take a good look in the mirror:
and remember that what you see—
the imperfections and perfections;
the roll of love around your stomach;
the diverging forks at the ends of your hair;
the delicate sprinkles on the bridge of your nose
—is only one layer of who you are,
all of it
(all of you)
is okay, too.
Stunning, the message
Outrageous to the knowing
Superb, the technique
Hilarious to the informed
Master of his Art
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,