Submissions by SychophanticSlag
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Often flawed, rarely favored.
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
11th Mar 2012 3:09pm
11th Mar 2012 3:09pm
A rant of sorts or something
You still howling at the divine,
how's that working for you?
Wake up, piss, sleep, lather rinse
repeat.
Beat that routine a couple decades more
Like the poor mans puppy,
or a punching bag for lack of a better metaphor; you are a punching bag.
So how much longer 'til the world strips you completely raw?
I'm not raw.
I can shed a tear
or sob endlessly into a strangers arms because you know, I'm weak
But I'm not raw.
I'm not some poor soul without love, some desperate cry in this vast sea heading nowhere. I'm not crimson turning cerulean...
how's that working for you?
Wake up, piss, sleep, lather rinse
repeat.
Beat that routine a couple decades more
Like the poor mans puppy,
or a punching bag for lack of a better metaphor; you are a punching bag.
So how much longer 'til the world strips you completely raw?
I'm not raw.
I can shed a tear
or sob endlessly into a strangers arms because you know, I'm weak
But I'm not raw.
I'm not some poor soul without love, some desperate cry in this vast sea heading nowhere. I'm not crimson turning cerulean...
798 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Jan 2012 1:29am
28th Jan 2012 1:29am
s m r
I don't want to be asleep and I sure as hell don't want to be awake
It's fucking sick the simplest notions that remind me of being alive and the fact she's not
Breaking glass, crying myself to unwanted sleep, or beating someone's ass; what will a moment of angst make up for? Definately not a lifetime without her.Nothing is as sweet as her. Nothing.
So here I am with this huge sick void in my chest and it won't rest til the day I die.
That's a long time coming, I'm just fifteen and all these people they say,
"It's a pity to go through at your young age." ...
It's fucking sick the simplest notions that remind me of being alive and the fact she's not
Breaking glass, crying myself to unwanted sleep, or beating someone's ass; what will a moment of angst make up for? Definately not a lifetime without her.Nothing is as sweet as her. Nothing.
So here I am with this huge sick void in my chest and it won't rest til the day I die.
That's a long time coming, I'm just fifteen and all these people they say,
"It's a pity to go through at your young age." ...
905 reads
7 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Jan 2012 8:21pm
27th Jan 2012 8:21pm
Rest In Peace.
The sweetest God I ever knew
was my mom. My apocalypse
was her death. I don't know
where she's going. But I am
positive it's better than here.
Maybe she's smoking with
Grandpa. Or watching me
write this awful poetry. I
really don't know. There
is nothing I can do but
mourn and pray for
the day when the
sun vanishes and
oblivion sucks me
in and I can see
that pretty force
of nature once
again.
was my mom. My apocalypse
was her death. I don't know
where she's going. But I am
positive it's better than here.
Maybe she's smoking with
Grandpa. Or watching me
write this awful poetry. I
really don't know. There
is nothing I can do but
mourn and pray for
the day when the
sun vanishes and
oblivion sucks me
in and I can see
that pretty force
of nature once
again.
896 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
5th Jan 2012 10:10am
5th Jan 2012 10:10am
I'm so sorry.
I really wish I could beat the hell out of myself
all those days that I ignored you.
Maybe a black eye,
broken leg, bloody nose
but no number of bruises, cuts, or
swollen tissue could amount to the pain
I hold now. It's really fucking sick
that I'm doing it again, I know.
But I just don't want this this fragile
dispondent image to be the last thing
I picture when you're gone.
all those days that I ignored you.
Maybe a black eye,
broken leg, bloody nose
but no number of bruises, cuts, or
swollen tissue could amount to the pain
I hold now. It's really fucking sick
that I'm doing it again, I know.
But I just don't want this this fragile
dispondent image to be the last thing
I picture when you're gone.
738 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
5th Jan 2012 9:59am
5th Jan 2012 9:59am
i already miss you.
I can't think of a hurt
that's worse.
I miss your smile
your voice
The overall sense of 'you'.
Each day you become farther away
and my heart can't take it.
You're there but isn't you
and the saddest part is I cant remember
the last real conversation we had.
Because I never thought the next day
would take the 'you'
out of you.
that's worse.
I miss your smile
your voice
The overall sense of 'you'.
Each day you become farther away
and my heart can't take it.
You're there but isn't you
and the saddest part is I cant remember
the last real conversation we had.
Because I never thought the next day
would take the 'you'
out of you.
1348 reads
DARK POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2012 10:56am
2nd Jan 2012 10:56am
It just feels good.
It was the morning hour
brilliance hung heavy
actually it was steam
from the shower.
Insperation nevertheless
it had to be done now
a compulsive artist at best
and so then it was.
Carving with gusto
tearing that shit apart
like nail polish
it chipped away.
Like a shelf in the hips,
totem-pole ribs,
gaunt eyelids.
Shades of red
blacks and filmy blues
Overlapped and dripping
left a therapeutic scent.
He winced and said, "I really adore your artwork."
then his eyes...
brilliance hung heavy
actually it was steam
from the shower.
Insperation nevertheless
it had to be done now
a compulsive artist at best
and so then it was.
Carving with gusto
tearing that shit apart
like nail polish
it chipped away.
Like a shelf in the hips,
totem-pole ribs,
gaunt eyelids.
Shades of red
blacks and filmy blues
Overlapped and dripping
left a therapeutic scent.
He winced and said, "I really adore your artwork."
then his eyes...
718 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
29th Dec 2011 7:44am
29th Dec 2011 7:44am
Goodbye to Everything.
so i sit and with each breath another,
little ounce of sorrow swells in the core of my being,
every tear that seeps back into my skin, it just adds
and it's really eating away at me.
so i wonder, why couldn't it be me,
why can't we make the great exchange?
if my breath could fill your lungs,
my tears could water your body,
help that beautiful brown hair grow back.
but you're infested, fucking infested.
and theres nothing I, or anyone for that matter can do.
so let's all just pray to the Fucker in the sky,
wasting our time together,...
little ounce of sorrow swells in the core of my being,
every tear that seeps back into my skin, it just adds
and it's really eating away at me.
so i wonder, why couldn't it be me,
why can't we make the great exchange?
if my breath could fill your lungs,
my tears could water your body,
help that beautiful brown hair grow back.
but you're infested, fucking infested.
and theres nothing I, or anyone for that matter can do.
so let's all just pray to the Fucker in the sky,
wasting our time together,...
793 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
29th Dec 2011 7:20am
29th Dec 2011 7:20am
For The Record
i've always
stuck up for
You. when the
Coke-stars
Rebels
Losers
& Sinners
spat on Your
face. i never,
not once doubted
You, and this
is what You go
and do?
well i guess
it's true,
You really do
get the last
laugh.
Ha Ha Ha.
stuck up for
You. when the
Coke-stars
Rebels
Losers
& Sinners
spat on Your
face. i never,
not once doubted
You, and this
is what You go
and do?
well i guess
it's true,
You really do
get the last
laugh.
Ha Ha Ha.
674 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
25th Dec 2011 9:16am
25th Dec 2011 9:16am
Before I lose my cool.
Please,
spare me; the
slight moment of
teeth clenching,"Oh
God, I can't even.."
Eye rolling, agitated
shifting. The short
silent slasher starring
you in the back
of my mind.
Just shut your
pretty fucking
mouth.
spare me; the
slight moment of
teeth clenching,"Oh
God, I can't even.."
Eye rolling, agitated
shifting. The short
silent slasher starring
you in the back
of my mind.
Just shut your
pretty fucking
mouth.
827 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Dec 2011 8:24am
4th Dec 2011 8:24am
Rational Fear
all these reports
peel my eyelids away
no more innocent veils
just salty vermilion fluids
i know
every breath tiptoes
creeping from the corners
of the mouth, through the nose
not wanting to be the one
'cut short'
i cut off my locks
1920s kind of look
stops right above my jaw
doesnt quite reach the nape of
my neck
vacant parking lots
neighborhood walks
crowded kiddy parks
midnight concert halls
aisle ten, seven, three
tied up with
yellow strings
please, please,
don't ever, ever...
peel my eyelids away
no more innocent veils
just salty vermilion fluids
i know
every breath tiptoes
creeping from the corners
of the mouth, through the nose
not wanting to be the one
'cut short'
i cut off my locks
1920s kind of look
stops right above my jaw
doesnt quite reach the nape of
my neck
vacant parking lots
neighborhood walks
crowded kiddy parks
midnight concert halls
aisle ten, seven, three
tied up with
yellow strings
please, please,
don't ever, ever...
810 reads
14 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd Nov 2011 11:00am
23rd Nov 2011 11:00am
And so it repeats...
Shaken!
I will bite my lip til it is pierced.
and through spiderlegs I shall leer...
Sneaking peeks and twitching limbs
You are my game.
Rabid!
Hemic embrace of thorns;
forever I loll in your rimy balm
To force this is not my hearts' intent
but cave into me dear, make it quick!
Shaken!
I have severed my tongue
Sprawl me upon that mattress of moss
Gaping, my eyes streem off porcelien.
You have left me absolutely naught!
I will bite my lip til it is pierced.
and through spiderlegs I shall leer...
Sneaking peeks and twitching limbs
You are my game.
Rabid!
Hemic embrace of thorns;
forever I loll in your rimy balm
To force this is not my hearts' intent
but cave into me dear, make it quick!
Shaken!
I have severed my tongue
Sprawl me upon that mattress of moss
Gaping, my eyes streem off porcelien.
You have left me absolutely naught!
802 reads
8 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2011 10:22am
21st Nov 2011 10:22am
Filth
We brush cheeks with filth, yet wrap ourselves in innocence
Like school children who pull at curls, we run tittering from punishment
Never do we thrash with such vigor, 'til it's our wrists bound to Satans' bed.
Dare I propose a toast;
I say we writhe no longer in idle morality...
For if the halo is ill fit,
Do not tug!
One will only be left with dripping palms and sprained faith.
Like school children who pull at curls, we run tittering from punishment
Never do we thrash with such vigor, 'til it's our wrists bound to Satans' bed.
Dare I propose a toast;
I say we writhe no longer in idle morality...
For if the halo is ill fit,
Do not tug!
One will only be left with dripping palms and sprained faith.
1084 reads
17 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by SychophanticSlag
