Submissions by 13
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
its all a fluke... or just insanity.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Mar 2014 9:35pm
24th Mar 2014 9:35pm
Excuses are a million
"And then some,
Food for thought that wouldn’t think,
Working the wrought unto the brink….
Where slaves define a generational plight
A martyr is born out of infamy and blithe.”
——
Rotting, still, in a cancerous shell that knows no health, nor godliness
Ever convincing the pompous mind of the frailty of determination.
A ghost of the day lurking in the shade,
With no deeds worth doing and nothing to bate the erosion of taste.
The asylum of words spurred to life, tongues turned black with hate,
Cheers of death and laughter that bled...
Food for thought that wouldn’t think,
Working the wrought unto the brink….
Where slaves define a generational plight
A martyr is born out of infamy and blithe.”
——
Rotting, still, in a cancerous shell that knows no health, nor godliness
Ever convincing the pompous mind of the frailty of determination.
A ghost of the day lurking in the shade,
With no deeds worth doing and nothing to bate the erosion of taste.
The asylum of words spurred to life, tongues turned black with hate,
Cheers of death and laughter that bled...
836 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Mar 2014 9:08am
1st Mar 2014 9:08am
Life is killing me
i want to give up writing. inspiration doesn’t flow from me anymore.
there is too much pain to vent and not enough words. with my limited
vocabulary and terrible concentration how will i ever express my truest feelings?
even voicing my own thoughts seems hard these days. when i sit to read
all my past work, i feel alien to myself. i can’t recognize the person who wrote this.
i realize this because i don’t know who i am. i have questions but no answers.
i have means but no will. i have goals but no hope. all i desire, leaves me.
all i cherish, dies and all i...
there is too much pain to vent and not enough words. with my limited
vocabulary and terrible concentration how will i ever express my truest feelings?
even voicing my own thoughts seems hard these days. when i sit to read
all my past work, i feel alien to myself. i can’t recognize the person who wrote this.
i realize this because i don’t know who i am. i have questions but no answers.
i have means but no will. i have goals but no hope. all i desire, leaves me.
all i cherish, dies and all i...
1259 reads
18 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2014 12:55pm
23rd Jan 2014 12:55pm
Waxing
A quarter to one at 3 in the night
could ideally be fun, not without warning.
Sitting alone in a room full of one
waiting for clues that glue the hour,
Fluidly spacy in the psychedelic lull
of drifting silence just half past none.
One and three quarters align
magically, weeks have just gone by.
"Your poetry these days is quite depressing son.
Cheer up before the waning comes.”
could ideally be fun, not without warning.
Sitting alone in a room full of one
waiting for clues that glue the hour,
Fluidly spacy in the psychedelic lull
of drifting silence just half past none.
One and three quarters align
magically, weeks have just gone by.
"Your poetry these days is quite depressing son.
Cheer up before the waning comes.”
812 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
14th Jan 2014 1:56am
14th Jan 2014 1:56am
Left-handed mistake
My fingers have ribs
directed inward, the squiggly lines
that make up the prints
on the walls with eyes
face to face with the mindful trees
nature listens to my shriveled cry
as morning breaks into an evening sky.
Christmas is done with
the new year is gone
boredom sings its sadistic song
frozen beneath the empire’s lies
the truth is fading in the mire
smoothly set in place
set pieces are falling away.
If this won’t sustain
I can find my way back again
I won’t be blinded by illusions,
indifferent to the calendar’s...
directed inward, the squiggly lines
that make up the prints
on the walls with eyes
face to face with the mindful trees
nature listens to my shriveled cry
as morning breaks into an evening sky.
Christmas is done with
the new year is gone
boredom sings its sadistic song
frozen beneath the empire’s lies
the truth is fading in the mire
smoothly set in place
set pieces are falling away.
If this won’t sustain
I can find my way back again
I won’t be blinded by illusions,
indifferent to the calendar’s...
800 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
4th Jan 2014 6:03pm
4th Jan 2014 6:03pm
Laze
Another lucrative year of waste
Sordid hours of tasteless taste
Quiet evening in stupor lay
Hung suspended in the new years day
With witty demurrals and ignorant chaste.
Sordid hours of tasteless taste
Quiet evening in stupor lay
Hung suspended in the new years day
With witty demurrals and ignorant chaste.
1005 reads
14 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
25th Dec 2013 2:04am
25th Dec 2013 2:04am
Emolith
Listen to my voice,
my deep deep voice.
I have so much to cry about
bitch and moan about
through
my voice.
A voice
that calls to you
you must heed
my voice
is so deep
I swallowed you
completely.
It is infinity
trapped in sound
the weight of the whim
the depth of the ocean
so deep
dictating blackness
that is
my voice.
It is all
it is nothing
something
A fun thing
not
my voice
is everything
you ever wanted
your father and brother to be
on a Sunday afternoon
after mass...
my deep deep voice.
I have so much to cry about
bitch and moan about
through
my voice.
A voice
that calls to you
you must heed
my voice
is so deep
I swallowed you
completely.
It is infinity
trapped in sound
the weight of the whim
the depth of the ocean
so deep
dictating blackness
that is
my voice.
It is all
it is nothing
something
A fun thing
not
my voice
is everything
you ever wanted
your father and brother to be
on a Sunday afternoon
after mass...
1104 reads
16 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
10th Dec 2013 4:23pm
10th Dec 2013 4:23pm
Killing the competition
To the one who hosts competitions...
Which bastard gave you the right?
I wouldn't listen to your rules even if you paid me.
Nor would I let you tell me how I would write my poem.
I could write something totally not related to your competition and submit it.
Maybe I'll fuck your girlfriend and let you read about how it went.
She didn't take your name when she came(just so you know)
Who said you could take such liberties?
I'm gonna bash your head in with an exhaust pipe
And when it dents and gains a sharp edge I'll...
Which bastard gave you the right?
I wouldn't listen to your rules even if you paid me.
Nor would I let you tell me how I would write my poem.
I could write something totally not related to your competition and submit it.
Maybe I'll fuck your girlfriend and let you read about how it went.
She didn't take your name when she came(just so you know)
Who said you could take such liberties?
I'm gonna bash your head in with an exhaust pipe
And when it dents and gains a sharp edge I'll...
970 reads
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Dec 2013 3:42pm
10th Dec 2013 3:42pm
Philanthropy
Ordnance of the wealthy, corrupt
Sculpting the public image.
Garnishing with admiration, cloaking gall.
Mass murder and grand larceny
Have to, in some way, come clean in the books.
Money is fabricated out of thin air.
Know that you don't know anything.
When debt is created, pockets are lined
This is the white way in a dark world.
When the receipts are missing, the cash is stashed.
Black must then become white for the sake of tax.
All of this ultimately boils down to charity.
Deplorable or reliable, evil or...
Sculpting the public image.
Garnishing with admiration, cloaking gall.
Mass murder and grand larceny
Have to, in some way, come clean in the books.
Money is fabricated out of thin air.
Know that you don't know anything.
When debt is created, pockets are lined
This is the white way in a dark world.
When the receipts are missing, the cash is stashed.
Black must then become white for the sake of tax.
All of this ultimately boils down to charity.
Deplorable or reliable, evil or...
968 reads
12 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
29th Nov 2013 9:11pm
29th Nov 2013 9:11pm
Christine
Now, an ex-pao is a someone who is no longer a pao.
One who has seen the truth in the darkness of life,
read between the fine lines of deception,
and swallowed the light to keep it burning inside
without losing faith in what actually matters.
The definitive.
Paos follow the lies that a pao-padre barks about,
and also tries to pick up morals from the stories written
in the pao-codex(a book of tyranny and suffering and other abominable acts).
Then a pao tries to live and justify everyday actions
based on prior knowledge of the...
One who has seen the truth in the darkness of life,
read between the fine lines of deception,
and swallowed the light to keep it burning inside
without losing faith in what actually matters.
The definitive.
Paos follow the lies that a pao-padre barks about,
and also tries to pick up morals from the stories written
in the pao-codex(a book of tyranny and suffering and other abominable acts).
Then a pao tries to live and justify everyday actions
based on prior knowledge of the...
954 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Nov 2013 1:04am
25th Nov 2013 1:04am
PC optimization
Optimized my ass!
My ass lets out farts
quicker than my PC starts.
My ass lets out farts
quicker than my PC starts.
957 reads
18 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
24th Nov 2013 6:20pm
24th Nov 2013 6:20pm
A Time to Die (Edited repost—Posted on July 31, 2012)
Be gone wretched despair, return to me never again.
31 shackles bound me, now free,
at last I inhale and sigh profusely.
The defenseless downfall of my manic obtrusion
slitting wrists and seeds of belligerence,
springs new fallacies instead of hopes
for unsung sights.
A visionary, believing what’s wrong, failing to accept reality.
Overrun by the fatality of erred judgment
I fold into myself again, a shadow in the dark
tilling the sullen cold with my infuriated heart.
Reach the depths of my gloom without words or wine,
and I...
31 shackles bound me, now free,
at last I inhale and sigh profusely.
The defenseless downfall of my manic obtrusion
slitting wrists and seeds of belligerence,
springs new fallacies instead of hopes
for unsung sights.
A visionary, believing what’s wrong, failing to accept reality.
Overrun by the fatality of erred judgment
I fold into myself again, a shadow in the dark
tilling the sullen cold with my infuriated heart.
Reach the depths of my gloom without words or wine,
and I...
756 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by 13
