Competition Ends 28th December 2018 12:48pm
Go to page:

Show Us Your Conflict

poet
PerfectSinner
Lost Thinker
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 14th June 2016
Forum Posts: 16

Thing called LOVE

This thing called love I can't gasp I can't comprehend it I don't understand it but I have it I feel it it moves me it talks to me it consumes me or is it all in my head

This thing called love has no boundaries it has no end it has no explanations it has no doubts it has no worries it has no regrets it has no remorse so pain grieve & hurt coincides with it?

This thing called love is pure it knows no darkness it knows no weakness it knows nothing but happiness it knows nothing but sincerity it knows nothing but peace it knows nothing more but contentment it knows nothing but the best so along side Webster & Merriam the world got it twisted!

This thing called love doesn't comes from earth it doesn't comes with no warning labels it doesn't comes with instructions it doesn't comes with no destinations it doesn't comes with a pause, a stop or rewind.

This thing called love only knows play it only knows Go!!! It only knows forgiveness it only knows freedom it only knows all in which it knows..... And we took it and abused it missing its meaning all together to this thing call "LOVE
Written by PerfectSinner
Go To Page  

poet
snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States
52awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1459

WHY?

Your suicide
Has condemned
My mind to
Asking,"WHY?"

In the cyclotron
Of my mind
The remuneration
Of this question
Will haunt my nights
Till the day I die

WHY?
WHY?
WHY?
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page  


poet
abigailwoods
Abigail C. Woods
Strange Creature
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 4

Aftermath

Four final words:
“You are not enough”

I am swallowing razor blades-
cutting out my own tongue;
destroying the evidence

Try to feel regret
 
One more exasperated sigh
One last trip to the ER

I am mopping up the puddles of
My own blood
Erase me

Try to feel regret

One last fake cry
One last lie hidden behind a devious smile
One last desperate ‘I love you’
attempting to conceal an abundance of
black and blue adorning virgin flesh like
rare jewelry

Stained skin; pain absorbed

Try to feel regret

One last passive aggressive fuck
One more defiant attempt to self destruct
One last breath let out with a quiver
One last time down on two
scraped and bloody knees

One last time

Swallowing razor blades


A.W.
Written by abigailwoods (Abigail C. Woods)
Go To Page  

poet
abigailwoods
Abigail C. Woods
Strange Creature
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 4

Black and White (Questions from a mixed girl)

1. Why do you kick me down?
Demand I do not embrace my African heritage,
 and in the same breath put me on a pedestal for having slightly lighter skin?
As if the closer I am to white... the more beautiful I become;
as if immense amounts of melanin,
skin glimmering like gold beneath the sunlight is a bad thing.

2. Dear white people,
your ignorance is dangerous.
Why do you take your, “freedom of expression,” so far?
How can you still deny racism
as you sit confidently, arguing with a stranger on Facebook that
#alllivesmatter while the George Zimmerman trial plays on the television behind you?
 
It is only background noise.

3. How do you not hear the sobs
 of innocent black men,
black women,
children,
black PEOPLE
as they look down on this ‘land of the free’
praying that someone finally has some fucking
mercy;
while you ride around in your truck,
confederate flag blowing in the wind with so much power.

4. That’s a funny word... ‘power.’
I have never know what that feels like.
My father has never known what that feels like.
His brothers and sisters,
his father,
mother, her sisters will NEVER know
how it feels to have power.

but they have all learned to live
in full body armor
to keep their lips sewn intricately shut
with barbed wire.
they have felt the ghosts of shackles
tightly clasped around their ankles
pulling them barefoot across
hot, sharp rocks
inserting themselves so far into the soles of their feet
it turned their souls into sediment.

I am not saying that everything is black and white.
But please remember:
there is no grey area for hatred.

A.W.
Written by abigailwoods (Abigail C. Woods)
Go To Page  

poet
bydk
Lost Thinker
Canada
  profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 9

Hardlyhome

 

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

with
thank you’s
signs of appreciation
serenity
tranquility
with,out
tension
rage
awkwardness
all,though
sumtimes
hate equals
confusion
contaminated and clogged brains
sometimes rain
mostly pain
a lot of complaints with
undressed hugs
under dry ceilings
naked positive facial expressions
yet not
alwaysknot
blessings
but blessed to adapt to this unfairness

there is a happy
or comfortable impression
with
dry shoulders near, luckily there’s a beer
no deep conversations
with acquainted expressions
mad thoughts
depressing thoughts
anxious with anxiety
disappointed at myself while
mad at the world
in love with the thought of
love, comfortand compassion
music on all the time
but interruptions think it’s a crime

solarrays patiently waiting
to melt my skull
sunbeams ready
to drink my fluids sweat and water
brightness ready to shut myeyesmind and time
drained from work
with sore backhandsandlegs
while feeling the headache
while attempting to stay strong
to not feel like I am being
swallowed by multiple corruptions

there is too much money while living
my plate full of food while starving
acid burns the stomach
 
pores pouring
instead of storing
demons roaring
instead
of my body snoring
no souls exploring
or
gaining experience
while constantly ignoring

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

poetry is never boring

bydk 11/09/18
Written by bydk
Go To Page  

poet
smackdownraven
Fire of Insight
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 18

the meth diaries~temptation's alley

 
I will be returning home on Friday
back to temptation
I'm feeling anxious

my writing isn't on point
and it's bothering me
I'm used to writing high

I feel naked and afraid
ill prepared to have the drug in my face
I have no choice but to resist temptation
this is no game
it's my life

I will succeed I know it
i'm strong and I have a lot of support
but still the fear creeps in

I continue to have drug nightmares
but now when the meth is in front of me I say no
that's a comfort it would be so easy to give in
it makes me feel good
even my sleeping mind isn't tricked

my days are sometimes hard
but I look forward to the little things
like seeing people I love
my next meal
and even going pee when my bladder is full
I focus on things that feel good
give me relief from my internal ache

I know someday I will write up to my par again
I have to be patient with myself
I've spent most my life high
it will take my brain sometime
it will take me time to find my true voice






Written by smackdownraven
Go To Page  

poet
smackdownraven
Fire of Insight
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 18

the meth diaries~reality

 
day three without meth
I feel better today though not good
the biggest issue is mental
meth was created by the Nazis
it was used to keep the soldiers alert
 
later it was used to treat depression
so it alters your brain chemistry
my mind is missing the drug
 
I fought with drug demons all night
horrible dreams chased me out of my sleep
I awoke early today afraid to go back to bed
 
I believe as time passes it will get easier
it's my belief my bipolar  
made me susceptible to this drug
 
I'm really frightened...  
I won't be much of a writer sober
before this I used to write drunk
I don't drink anymore
and I won't be returning...  
to that nightmare either
 
truth is as an adult I've never been sober
starting at seventeen
I used pot, crank, cocaine then heroin
heroin to methadone
spent thirteen years there
 
quit methadone  
was given Xanax by docs at the hospital
seven years saw me there
to alcohol, cocaine and then meth
 
I'm afraid... what if I just can't cut it clean
there is no option I can't fail
I love my husband
I refuse to let my end be addiction
loveless, family-less, possibly homeless
 
I have to be brave and face this
the fears will come I will meet them head on
the nightmares will fade away
 
it will get better with each passing day
mental illness and addiction
the reality is confronting me


Written by smackdownraven
Go To Page  

poet
Commentonly
Lost Thinker
  profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Oct 2016
Forum Posts: 6

Drowning Superstitions In The Love Of Alcohols Sweet lament

Decided to kick the mirror in today
seven more years of a lifetime of misery
seems shallow in retrospect

smashed the salt shaker
danced in the dervish scuffed by
my feet
kicking it as if it were dust
and luck is nothing more than a boot print
primed in the lament of failure

walked under a ladder
stared up at the obtuseness of triangles
and what they mean in the relationship
to a consciousness that has fallen by the wayside
fallen into the disrepute of hedonism

inhale the nihilistic approach
of running a-foul of black cats
whilst howling at the full moon

I miss the sound of your voice
the timbre that melts the melancholy
revives the fact
I can feel alive

now all that’s left
is the sound of raining glass
and the hiss of a cracked bottle
Written by Commentonly
Go To Page  

poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 19

By The Ink of My Skin

 
I walk the stairs
to the parlor
sitting down
I recline
close my eyes
hear the sound
special wavelengths
magnetize
and dissolve
fading pigment
on my finger
where a promise
was once made

one year later
after the hatred
I grieve for you
confused
while I remove
this tattooed
wedding ring
familiar sting
effort made
only in vain
lessons learned
the laser snaps
another pang
but this time
it’s my heart
that cries your name


this weight
is unexpected


no regrets
know why I left
but still...
I cared for you
I loved you
so as the bruise
begins to fade
I choose to keep
my memories
of our love
just the same

you will remain
chromophore
in my veins


a stain
that I can taste


a waste
of bloodletting


Written by nightbirdblue
Go To Page  

poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 19

Patience is a Virtue

             
for a helping hand      
is all that I ask      
I do need help      
I need you to help me      
with this problem      
this unresolved        
conflict      
this little thing called      
balance      
       
how many years      
do you think      
I can be patient      
before I feel taken      
for granted      
taken advantage of      
while you brood over      
your own dilemmas      
       
eight years of working out      
your own anthem      
you’ve come to an impasse      
your conclusions are drawn      
“view every day as a miracle  
that you’re alive on this earth”  
yet possess a motto    
of apathy; fuck it all    
       
but some things      
are worth caring      
about        
       
but all that matters to you      
is having fun; the next rush      
while you play games      
and you remain      
happy      
as long as you win      
set up your interactions      
so they will never let you down      
you flaunt your own crown      
of self-righteous justification  
 
and yeah that’s gotten you  
a long way      
through your life      
       
but meanwhile I’m trapped      
on your roller coaster      
of fun and games      
narcissistic ways      
let you skirt your      
obligations      
while I die      
a little more      
inside each day      
       
so I might as well try      
to have fun, right?      
participate with you      
in your delusions      
       
but then you add in      
all these tribulations      
of defeat      
I’m always losing      
               
your arbitrary      
displays of power      
support your structure      
while I walk on the eggshells  
of your undeserved torture      
       
so how long        
do you think        
I can remain patient        
while your incessant    
searching for release                
devours me?              
 
Written by nightbirdblue
Go To Page  

poet
bydk
Lost Thinker
Canada
  profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 9

likely



likely

I like myself
I like myself more
than anyone else
I know. I’ll never love me.
I’m aware of what love does

I would give my all
until there is nothing left
of my heart.
when that’s not enough

would he let me go?
could we go back?
would I be able to
run past that bench
where
he ate every donut, without pain?
could I love
another? would
he let someone else in
having known
I wasn’t enough for me?

bydk 12/05/18
Written by bydk
Go To Page  

poet
Selosa67
Lost Thinker
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 4

If Someday Ever Comes

If someday ever comes
Will there be a place for me
Will there be someone waiting for me  
And will I know how to find him  
Will the Lord allow me another start  
  
How will I know I belong  
Or will we have to part  
Will I have to search for the love that never comes  
Was it only in fun  
   
Why did he have to run  
What is it that I did  
I gave all I had to give  
   
There is so much more to me  
Hidden so deep inside  
Like lost treasure  
It is worth the find  
   
There is days I wish someday never came  
I know the Lord must have a plan for me  
He is not just playing a game  
I know he never wanted to give me so much sorrow and pain  
   
Follow me the Lord says and your life will not be the same  
He is our strength to indure the pain  
Just take it one day at a time  
For there is always sunshine after all the rain  
   
 
Written by Selosa67
Go To Page  

poet
Selosa67
Lost Thinker
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 4

Silence Of Loneliness

The slilence of loneliness
The cries nobody hears
The laugh that leads to tears
The smile that turns into a frown
The need to be loved when no ones around
The feelings of fear of being let down
When the silence of loneliness
Is the only sound
Written by Selosa67
Go To Page  

poet
DawnRaider
DR
Thought Provoker
United Kingdom
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 23

Lost

When I was a child
You appeared strong
In control
A force of nature
Central to my world

As a young man
Starting out
We became
Disconnected
Separated

The birth of my child
Brought approbation
His progress in life
Polite interest
Not jubilation

Miles apart
Sporadic calls
Fewer visits
Birthday wishes
Christmas cards

Your grandson has
Flown the nest
Grade A student
The best of the best
A military man

You are now older
Frail and alone
Your life has regrets
Disappointments
Things unsaid

A long journey made
To her who created
Raised and educated
Undoubtedly loved
To visit and embrace

Arriving at her home
It's quiet, deserted
Bed stripped bare
Nothing to be done
We check into an hotel

Make enquiries around
Checked hospital admissions
Soon located and confirmed
Visit duly planned
Armed with flowers

When we arrive
Quietly greeted
Show to an office
Gently seated
My mother has died

Quickly and peacefully
Old age and illness
Finally triumphant
Last respects too late
Nothing more to be said
Written by DawnRaider (DR)
Go To Page  

poet
Layla
Thought Provoker
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd May 2018
Forum Posts: 29

Address:  Anywhere

 
I know so little
oblivious, serenity
sipping chamomile tea
gentle waves lick corridors of the mind
whirling my thoughts
to heap of hurt
down the street

somewhat..comforted
seeing him
night after night
curled on the cold cement
ten feet from the corner, aslant
to a headstone
anchoring the vanishing warmth;
suitcase bulging with secrets

the chipped stars glimmered
in his silver hair
peeking from thin layers of frayed covers
colorless as dishrag canvas
the porcelain moon in its bedrock
lingered, patiently waiting
for something it never had.

I wondered
how many mountains he’s climbed
collecting prayers in his pleated hands
spreading like accordion
searching for Alchemist’s treasure
to sew rocks in lovers’ hem
while the forest stood
still, silent
not wanting to bend shadows
dragging through reflection
of a war within himself.

I know he’ll be gone
by the first blush of morning light
wanting to call out,
Does fear have different color
if the skin is light or dark

but I swallow my tongue whole
looking away

tomorrow is just another day.
Written by Layla
Go To Page  

Go to page:
Go to: