Submissions by Robereg41
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2018 7:08pm
3rd Dec 2018 7:08pm
My Son Says
#politics
425 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Nov 2018 2:35am
30th Nov 2018 2:35am
Lithium Lollipop
The doctor asks me if I ever hear voices and, at first, I wasn't sure how to answer him.
Do demons squeal at me billowing smoke out of the radio and car vents telling me to strip naked and stalk the president?
No. But my own whispers death licking hot condensation on my neck, like that scene in alien.
It tells me I'm worthless and the world is a gun pointed at my head, chamber spinning like russian roulette.
They don't hiss at me through speakers they sit smoking a cigarette in a pair of Nike sneakers and a t shirt that says "Just do it."
But, I tell him no, I don't...
Do demons squeal at me billowing smoke out of the radio and car vents telling me to strip naked and stalk the president?
No. But my own whispers death licking hot condensation on my neck, like that scene in alien.
It tells me I'm worthless and the world is a gun pointed at my head, chamber spinning like russian roulette.
They don't hiss at me through speakers they sit smoking a cigarette in a pair of Nike sneakers and a t shirt that says "Just do it."
But, I tell him no, I don't...
#bipolar
#MentalHealth
480 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Nov 2018 9:40pm
25th Nov 2018 9:40pm
The Edge of February
Kiss me.
Kiss my lips on in the no man's land between warring trenches.
Roll me in rhe barbed wire killing fields among the mud and the mines.
Hold me until the smoke clears.
Kiss my eyes while we are enclosed the bones of an abandoned church.
Nuzzle my neck among the whispering dead; the tombs and headstones of those who fell before we did.
Hold me until the fog clears.
Grip the swell of my hips in a fox hole full of shrapnel.
Shout my name into a sky full of searchlights.
Write your vows in the breaths between bullets.
Tell me you'll...
Kiss my lips on in the no man's land between warring trenches.
Roll me in rhe barbed wire killing fields among the mud and the mines.
Hold me until the smoke clears.
Kiss my eyes while we are enclosed the bones of an abandoned church.
Nuzzle my neck among the whispering dead; the tombs and headstones of those who fell before we did.
Hold me until the fog clears.
Grip the swell of my hips in a fox hole full of shrapnel.
Shout my name into a sky full of searchlights.
Write your vows in the breaths between bullets.
Tell me you'll...
#love
#bipolar
#MentalHealth
397 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Nov 2018 4:36am
25th Nov 2018 4:36am
The Trenches
Kiss me.
Kiss me in the no mans land between warring trenches.
Roll me in the barbed wire mine fields.
Hold me until the smoke clears.
Kiss me in the no mans land between warring trenches.
Roll me in the barbed wire mine fields.
Hold me until the smoke clears.
#love
#MentalHealth
395 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
25th Nov 2018 4:26am
25th Nov 2018 4:26am
Peanut Butter Voo Doo
The joke about bipolar fell flatter than when Mick Jagger tries to sing...well...anything.
One sonorous death scream and then it lay there twitching on the breakroom table between them. They forgot she was there in the corner.
The temperature receded several degrees as the room deflated when they realized their terminal mistake and started shifting uncomfortably in the bleeding silence, drowning in the knowledge that they can't swim out of this one.
One of them tries to make her tongue a tourniquet, "we're sorry...we didn't...we forgot... you were...that you had...IT," but...
One sonorous death scream and then it lay there twitching on the breakroom table between them. They forgot she was there in the corner.
The temperature receded several degrees as the room deflated when they realized their terminal mistake and started shifting uncomfortably in the bleeding silence, drowning in the knowledge that they can't swim out of this one.
One of them tries to make her tongue a tourniquet, "we're sorry...we didn't...we forgot... you were...that you had...IT," but...
#anger
#MentalHealth
431 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2018 5:41pm
22nd Nov 2018 5:41pm
Secret Raindrops
I'm tired. I'm so tired. Growing up, I loved that special kind of lovely loneliness when you sit in your car, it's raining and it dances on the roof and you smile like you've got a secret.
Now, I live in a world where bombs fall instead of rain drops and I'm praying the windshield will hold.
I long for the soft pings to rock me to sleep, but there aren't any soft things left anymore, the drops are bullet holes, armor piercing rounds blood thirsty hounds bound and determined to see as many veins as possible ripped open and their contents washed into the gutter with the cold dirty...
Now, I live in a world where bombs fall instead of rain drops and I'm praying the windshield will hold.
I long for the soft pings to rock me to sleep, but there aren't any soft things left anymore, the drops are bullet holes, armor piercing rounds blood thirsty hounds bound and determined to see as many veins as possible ripped open and their contents washed into the gutter with the cold dirty...
#politics
375 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2018 1:24am
21st Nov 2018 1:24am
American woman, Don't Cry
Don't cry, American woman even though your eyes are swollen.
Don't cry because it's raining. Cry because you're too afraid to play in it. You're too old, too rich, too poor. Don't cry because the water is cold. Change your definition of warm.
Don't cry because it's dark. Cry because you can only see in the light.
Don't cry because so many died. Cry for why they died. Cry because we could have saved them. Cry because each trigger pulled is part of a bigger move to subjugate us to genuflect to fear and to die as pawns in a game played by the 1% and paid for by the 99. ...
Don't cry because it's raining. Cry because you're too afraid to play in it. You're too old, too rich, too poor. Don't cry because the water is cold. Change your definition of warm.
Don't cry because it's dark. Cry because you can only see in the light.
Don't cry because so many died. Cry for why they died. Cry because we could have saved them. Cry because each trigger pulled is part of a bigger move to subjugate us to genuflect to fear and to die as pawns in a game played by the 1% and paid for by the 99. ...
#politics
424 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
18th Nov 2018 3:36pm
18th Nov 2018 3:36pm
Eulogy
Eulogies are beautiful things in the way that many counterfeit things can be beautiful; in the way that deception so expertly executed can be so breathtakingly perfect; in the way that a fist sized cubic zirconia shines so brilliantly under artificial light to an uneducated eye. When it comes to death, people lie. We polish people. We inflate them to be great pillars of the community, concrete in their indelible mark on society because it is universally accepted that an ugly truth, with regard to both life and death, is more regrettable than a well intentioned lie. But I say don't paint over...
#death
440 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Nov 2018 4:37pm
17th Nov 2018 4:37pm
Garbage
I never refer to any human being as a dog because it's offensive to dogs.
Human beings are grotesque. Human beings are garbage.
We spend our lives trying to be something that we are not, fearing who we can't be and often meeting that reality with hostility and violence.
Like a flame, difference scares us and we succumb to the mammalian instinct to stomp it out like panicked gorillas.
Dogs aim to be one thing: dogs. They don't want to be the best. They just want to be good. They just want to love and be loved.
protection, 2) food.
That's it. And this massive...
Human beings are grotesque. Human beings are garbage.
We spend our lives trying to be something that we are not, fearing who we can't be and often meeting that reality with hostility and violence.
Like a flame, difference scares us and we succumb to the mammalian instinct to stomp it out like panicked gorillas.
Dogs aim to be one thing: dogs. They don't want to be the best. They just want to be good. They just want to love and be loved.
protection, 2) food.
That's it. And this massive...
#politics
#GunControl
685 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Nov 2018 4:28pm
17th Nov 2018 4:28pm
Baby Shoes
The guitar pick necklace rested in the hollow of her mottled throat like a chandelier in an old house. A pair of fish net clad legs counted the seconds like a cellulite pocked metronome.
Taking a drag off of a half spent Pal Mall under the neon glow of a no smoking sign, she bobs there like a retired row boat tied to a disintegrating pier, well passed her prime but she still floats out of sheer spite.
She stares at the deep lines in her palsied palm and quietly remembers what porcelain felt like underneath her fingertips. But now, all she has are tremors, a dirty pair of baby shoes...
Taking a drag off of a half spent Pal Mall under the neon glow of a no smoking sign, she bobs there like a retired row boat tied to a disintegrating pier, well passed her prime but she still floats out of sheer spite.
She stares at the deep lines in her palsied palm and quietly remembers what porcelain felt like underneath her fingertips. But now, all she has are tremors, a dirty pair of baby shoes...
#sadness
#drugs
#addiction
411 reads
1 Comment
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