Submissions by Nixprty
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write the words my tongue can’t speak, and for those who can still see clearly through the foggy windows.
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2024 8:15am
2nd Jun 2024 8:15am
I’ll Die Anyway
I shiver at the implications of our existence,
We are against nature.
I feel abnormally disgusted by something that makes me happier than I’ve ever been before.
I run my hands up your neck,
Softly brushing the hair beside your ear.
I ache for something to hold onto,
Something that isn’t you.
I smoke a cigarette,
The feeling brings my mind to a stop.
I taste the smoke,
I breathe it in deeply.
I know it’s deadly.
I know I’m told not to do it.
I...
We are against nature.
I feel abnormally disgusted by something that makes me happier than I’ve ever been before.
I run my hands up your neck,
Softly brushing the hair beside your ear.
I ache for something to hold onto,
Something that isn’t you.
I smoke a cigarette,
The feeling brings my mind to a stop.
I taste the smoke,
I breathe it in deeply.
I know it’s deadly.
I know I’m told not to do it.
I...
#LGBT
189 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2024 8:06am
2nd Jun 2024 8:06am
The Stars
I watch the stars
I don’t suppose they watch me back
I wonder if the stars make sounds
Or if they burn silently
I imagine they ache
Like a fresh bruise or a healing bone
I don’t think they bleed
Perhaps they just sob
What beautiful spots of flame
Burning and aching in a fiery flash of light
They are momentary
They are temporary
They are dying
And already dead
I imagine the stars watch me back
I wonder if they wonder too
I don’t suppose they watch me back
I wonder if the stars make sounds
Or if they burn silently
I imagine they ache
Like a fresh bruise or a healing bone
I don’t think they bleed
Perhaps they just sob
What beautiful spots of flame
Burning and aching in a fiery flash of light
They are momentary
They are temporary
They are dying
And already dead
I imagine the stars watch me back
I wonder if they wonder too
#philosophical
158 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
31st May 2024 7:12am
31st May 2024 7:12am
The Smell of Home
Someone once told me I smelled great.
‘What do you use?’ He asked.
I paused for a moment.
I thought of the dimly lit bathroom,
The mornings while brushing my teeth.
Gagging on the intensely artificial scent of vanilla perfume my sister would coat her entire body in.
I thought of the floral sweetness that my mother carried,
Jasmine or lavender,
A hint of faintly browned sugar.
I thought of the powerful citrus my father wore,
I often thought he smelled how he looked,
Huge and powerful,
The slightest hint...
‘What do you use?’ He asked.
I paused for a moment.
I thought of the dimly lit bathroom,
The mornings while brushing my teeth.
Gagging on the intensely artificial scent of vanilla perfume my sister would coat her entire body in.
I thought of the floral sweetness that my mother carried,
Jasmine or lavender,
A hint of faintly browned sugar.
I thought of the powerful citrus my father wore,
I often thought he smelled how he looked,
Huge and powerful,
The slightest hint...
#family
127 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st May 2024 7:02am
31st May 2024 7:02am
Gifted
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel wrapped in silver foil and gold leaf
I feel like earth
I feel cloaked in leaves and swallowed in dark
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel royal blue or emerald green
I feel like earth
I feel like red earth and browning leaves
I don’t feel gifted
Perhaps gifted was just a way of saying different
I don’t feel wrapped in silver foil and gold leaf
I feel like earth
I feel cloaked in leaves and swallowed in dark
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel royal blue or emerald green
I feel like earth
I feel like red earth and browning leaves
I don’t feel gifted
Perhaps gifted was just a way of saying different
#Autism
#childhood
191 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2024 7:15pm
25th May 2024 7:15pm
Tell my Father
Tell my father it’s music
Or at least that I’m bleeding
He’ll know what it means
Ask him to come home
Or at least that I’m listening for him
He’ll know what it means
Give him a warning
Or at least a hug
He’ll know what it means
Tell my father
His son is picking at the splintered wood of an old guitar that’s lost its shine
His son is cutting his fingers on the rusty steel strings of a bass
His son is getting blood on the dusty drum heads
His son wants him to sing.
Or at least that I’m bleeding
He’ll know what it means
Ask him to come home
Or at least that I’m listening for him
He’ll know what it means
Give him a warning
Or at least a hug
He’ll know what it means
Tell my father
His son is picking at the splintered wood of an old guitar that’s lost its shine
His son is cutting his fingers on the rusty steel strings of a bass
His son is getting blood on the dusty drum heads
His son wants him to sing.
#aging
#father
195 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2024 6:56pm
25th May 2024 6:56pm
Rhyme and Reason
I wonder if the bleeding ink bleeds because it cannot scar.
If the rushing water rushes because it cannot escape.
If the weeping willow weeps because it cannot laugh.
If the running mouse in the wheel runs because it cannot move.
If the I write what I write because I have not the bravery to speak it.
If the rushing water rushes because it cannot escape.
If the weeping willow weeps because it cannot laugh.
If the running mouse in the wheel runs because it cannot move.
If the I write what I write because I have not the bravery to speak it.
#loneliness
#philosophical
186 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
22nd May 2024 7:36am
22nd May 2024 7:36am
Hot and Cold
The chilling desperation to be noticed,
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the...
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the...
#MentalHealth
149 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd May 2024 7:22am
22nd May 2024 7:22am
The Loneliness of a Crowded Room
The feeling of pure joy,
The moment of ecstasy when we all cheer as one.
I scream so loud,
I clapped until my hands burned.
I’m surrounded by my brothers and sisters,
My team.
But there’s an isolating darkness,
Just beyond me.
It lies in wait.
Feeling alone,
In a room full of people.
The moment of ecstasy when we all cheer as one.
I scream so loud,
I clapped until my hands burned.
I’m surrounded by my brothers and sisters,
My team.
But there’s an isolating darkness,
Just beyond me.
It lies in wait.
Feeling alone,
In a room full of people.
#loneliness
135 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th May 2024 5:35pm
20th May 2024 5:35pm
Ask Mother
Ask Mother;
Can we bask in the rolling meadows,
swim in the sea of blue skies?
Only until dark.
Ask Mother.
Can we dance to the symphony of sounds just out past the trees,
singing its sweet promise of tomorrow.
Only for a moment.
Ask Mother.
We found her sitting beside the stream,
she weeps at her own reflection.
'Can we go back inside?' We ask.
She responds in a voice so faint,
It's like she didn't want us to hear;
'Ask Mother.'
Can we bask in the rolling meadows,
swim in the sea of blue skies?
Only until dark.
Ask Mother.
Can we dance to the symphony of sounds just out past the trees,
singing its sweet promise of tomorrow.
Only for a moment.
Ask Mother.
We found her sitting beside the stream,
she weeps at her own reflection.
'Can we go back inside?' We ask.
She responds in a voice so faint,
It's like she didn't want us to hear;
'Ask Mother.'
#motherhood
163 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th May 2024 12:56pm
19th May 2024 12:56pm
Father
I am the fool who screams,
When I know you’ll smother my words.
Call me the clown.
Father.
When I know you’ll smother my words.
Call me the clown.
Father.
#hurt
230 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:23pm
17th May 2024 2:23pm
Too Loud
I'm still flesh and bone, no matter how much my flesh is bitten off, and my bones broken.
My skin has turned a sickly green from the lack of oxygen. I can't breathe anymore, it's too loud. It's like I could blow out their eardrums with the sound of my blinking.
Don't blink it's too loud. Don't breathe, it's too loud. Don't eat, it's too loud.
It's been 2 years since I took a step, my last one was too loud.
It can't hear me, it can't see me, but it's still too loud.
It's hugs have become tighter, it's trying to squeeze the air out of me, but...
My skin has turned a sickly green from the lack of oxygen. I can't breathe anymore, it's too loud. It's like I could blow out their eardrums with the sound of my blinking.
Don't blink it's too loud. Don't breathe, it's too loud. Don't eat, it's too loud.
It's been 2 years since I took a step, my last one was too loud.
It can't hear me, it can't see me, but it's still too loud.
It's hugs have become tighter, it's trying to squeeze the air out of me, but...
#abuse
#parent
177 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:15pm
17th May 2024 2:15pm
Geodes
Some people say that geodes are like jack-in-the-boxes,
you have to wait to see what's inside.
But I don't think it's as nice.
Geodes need to be hurt to reveal their beauty,
kinda like people,
you know?
Although it's kind of sad, it still makes sense.
You can't be beautiful if you aren't hurt.
At least geodes are pretty cool,
kinda like how hurt people are cool.
Really we're no different from them, we just feel higher.
Humans like being higher up than other beings, it's kinda funny.
We...
you have to wait to see what's inside.
But I don't think it's as nice.
Geodes need to be hurt to reveal their beauty,
kinda like people,
you know?
Although it's kind of sad, it still makes sense.
You can't be beautiful if you aren't hurt.
At least geodes are pretty cool,
kinda like how hurt people are cool.
Really we're no different from them, we just feel higher.
Humans like being higher up than other beings, it's kinda funny.
We...
#philosophical
147 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Nixprty
