Submissions by TyrannicalWorm (Nathan A. Brock)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write things. Some of these things are good, I suppose.
SELF POEM
Published
26th Jul 2021 3:30am
26th Jul 2021 3:30am
I know how the moon feels
I Know how the moon feels.
Used to reflect the haughty brilliance
of a star too arrogant to close
his eye to the night sky.
Does the sun not see the frozen
tears that stain her face?
I often wish to be cold and empty, too.
To pass- silent and unnoticed through
my own dark expanse.
To keep my thoughts,
my secrets,
my tears behind the black.
Yes! I know how the moon feels.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
Used to reflect the haughty brilliance
of a star too arrogant to close
his eye to the night sky.
Does the sun not see the frozen
tears that stain her face?
I often wish to be cold and empty, too.
To pass- silent and unnoticed through
my own dark expanse.
To keep my thoughts,
my secrets,
my tears behind the black.
Yes! I know how the moon feels.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
#depression
317 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
24th Jul 2021 3:08am
24th Jul 2021 3:08am
Drift
My rage is a dandelion seed head
scattering to the wind;
I can't catch every piece.
Though, sometimes, one may float
into my palm, and I examine it to find
that the spiky, soft hairs
of the fury drifter
make no sense to me.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
scattering to the wind;
I can't catch every piece.
Though, sometimes, one may float
into my palm, and I examine it to find
that the spiky, soft hairs
of the fury drifter
make no sense to me.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
#anger
587 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jul 2021 1:11am
20th Jul 2021 1:11am
Black
You will always be the broken
structure where I hide
in my hypocrisy.
Yes, I shall build my crypt
with your stone, and I
will be the mortar;
Stacking you high into the
shadows overhead;
holding you fast where I
deem is your home;
My mortar will hold you!
Indeed, it shall outlast your
stone;
Holding it's vague shape
in chalky, skeletal ruin while
men gaze, not knowing what
...
structure where I hide
in my hypocrisy.
Yes, I shall build my crypt
with your stone, and I
will be the mortar;
Stacking you high into the
shadows overhead;
holding you fast where I
deem is your home;
My mortar will hold you!
Indeed, it shall outlast your
stone;
Holding it's vague shape
in chalky, skeletal ruin while
men gaze, not knowing what
...
#anxiety
#depression
#dark
361 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jan 2020 7:14pm
16th Jan 2020 7:14pm
Bus Stop Buddies
Oh, this shall be the morning
that consumes the last
morsel of my sanity;
my predawn bus stop arrival
met with the chattery
of a fellow with no regard
for the drowsy hours.
Why is he talking to me?
The whistling chirp of a sparrow
slices through his ramblings -
clearly offended by the
chatter that roused him;
or perhaps it was expressing
sympathy for my current woe,
but as I listen to the bird
violently cursing the
gabby gentleman,
I begin to feel like
I made a...
that consumes the last
morsel of my sanity;
my predawn bus stop arrival
met with the chattery
of a fellow with no regard
for the drowsy hours.
Why is he talking to me?
The whistling chirp of a sparrow
slices through his ramblings -
clearly offended by the
chatter that roused him;
or perhaps it was expressing
sympathy for my current woe,
but as I listen to the bird
violently cursing the
gabby gentleman,
I begin to feel like
I made a...
#birds
#morning
466 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
13th Jan 2020 00:12am
13th Jan 2020 00:12am
Untitled 01/12/2020
I saw her in an arts district tavern -
a simple pub of lesser classes;
not her people, yet there she was -
absently finger fucking her Iphone
with a sea breeze before her.
Her overwhelmingly basic presence
soured my bourbon with unpleasant
notes of disdain, but this city is free,
I suppose, and this beverly-belle
is free to foul whatever air she pleases;
just as I am to limit my tolerance
to those of my own station.
So, paying...
a simple pub of lesser classes;
not her people, yet there she was -
absently finger fucking her Iphone
with a sea breeze before her.
Her overwhelmingly basic presence
soured my bourbon with unpleasant
notes of disdain, but this city is free,
I suppose, and this beverly-belle
is free to foul whatever air she pleases;
just as I am to limit my tolerance
to those of my own station.
So, paying...
#hate
#alcohol
615 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Jan 2020 2:54am
8th Jan 2020 2:54am
Younger Stars
I am my own shadow.
I only exist
within the lines
on this page;
my shapeless form,
cast in literary
fabrications
and amalgamated
realities.
A mad scientist
building quazi-poetic
beasts of
distorted dreams;
attainable only
in the keys
beneath my digits.
My keyboard
could speak of dreams
beyond the count
of the stars -
though,...
I only exist
within the lines
on this page;
my shapeless form,
cast in literary
fabrications
and amalgamated
realities.
A mad scientist
building quazi-poetic
beasts of
distorted dreams;
attainable only
in the keys
beneath my digits.
My keyboard
could speak of dreams
beyond the count
of the stars -
though,...
#depression
#dreams
657 reads
2 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
7th Jan 2020 1:14am
7th Jan 2020 1:14am
Spun
These walls are sacred -
here in my solitude,
coating my mind
with toxic glaze,
staring at the void
through smoky haze,
thinking nothing
for the world outside.
My vain sacrifice
come to fruition -
yielding a river
of poisonous slurry;
would leave it's banks
but vision is too blurry
so, hear I sit
holding the oath
I swore to the shadows
of my mind.
here in my solitude,
coating my mind
with toxic glaze,
staring at the void
through smoky haze,
thinking nothing
for the world outside.
My vain sacrifice
come to fruition -
yielding a river
of poisonous slurry;
would leave it's banks
but vision is too blurry
so, hear I sit
holding the oath
I swore to the shadows
of my mind.
#addiction
612 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
6th Jan 2020 3:48am
6th Jan 2020 3:48am
Void
All is gone!!
Wind, sun,
flowers and trees -
gone!!
Day and night are one,
and summer is cold as winter.
life has been consumed
in growing flames that give no light.
there is no light.
Darkness has fallen
while i sit alone,
maddened by deafening silence.
Wind, sun,
flowers and trees -
gone!!
Day and night are one,
and summer is cold as winter.
life has been consumed
in growing flames that give no light.
there is no light.
Darkness has fallen
while i sit alone,
maddened by deafening silence.
#MentalHealth
#depression
#despair
564 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Jan 2020 4:48am
4th Jan 2020 4:48am
Neat'n Easy
This is an intriguing city;
though congested as an
old lunger, sanctuary
is easy.
Taverns hunt in packs
through litter laden
Los Angeles, and
rare few shelve my hooch -
so simple to find
back home.
ahh…
Mesquite scented summers
beckon me, but
so extended was my absence,
it is hard
to call myself a
Texan anymore.
So, I’ll double my
Turkey tonight -
neat’n easy…
neat’n easy…
and be grateful that a
familiar whiskey exists
where ever I...
though congested as an
old lunger, sanctuary
is easy.
Taverns hunt in packs
through litter laden
Los Angeles, and
rare few shelve my hooch -
so simple to find
back home.
ahh…
Mesquite scented summers
beckon me, but
so extended was my absence,
it is hard
to call myself a
Texan anymore.
So, I’ll double my
Turkey tonight -
neat’n easy…
neat’n easy…
and be grateful that a
familiar whiskey exists
where ever I...
#home
#alcohol
562 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Jan 2020 00:33am
3rd Jan 2020 00:33am
Unwritten
An unwritten poem
is as a beautiful maiden
laying dead
on a sheet of paper;
a single drop of ink
falls into her veins,
coaxing the first feeble
pulse of her heart.
One more drop,
two,
three -
it's beat strengthens
and she rises,
prepared for her grand ballet;
each prance and twirl
tracing every word,
every line;
choreographing her beautiful tale,
until the last drop of ink is spent,
and she collapses
into the period at the end
of the final stanza.
is as a beautiful maiden
laying dead
on a sheet of paper;
a single drop of ink
falls into her veins,
coaxing the first feeble
pulse of her heart.
One more drop,
two,
three -
it's beat strengthens
and she rises,
prepared for her grand ballet;
each prance and twirl
tracing every word,
every line;
choreographing her beautiful tale,
until the last drop of ink is spent,
and she collapses
into the period at the end
of the final stanza.
#WritingPoetry
724 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2020 2:59am
2nd Jan 2020 2:59am
Filet Mignon
Opportunity surrounds me;
like a restaurant menu,
pick and choose which items
best suit my palate -
But I'm afraid my mouth is
too dry
to fully appreciate the savor
of these new cuisines;
tho they are quite fresh,
well prepared,
and, no doubt, more nutritious
than my usual burger stand.
Somehow
the burger stand seems more appetizing.
I know it is quite strange
to crave a tasteless hamburger
when filet mignon is on the table,
however, I think what I truly crave
is the familiar...
like a restaurant menu,
pick and choose which items
best suit my palate -
But I'm afraid my mouth is
too dry
to fully appreciate the savor
of these new cuisines;
tho they are quite fresh,
well prepared,
and, no doubt, more nutritious
than my usual burger stand.
Somehow
the burger stand seems more appetizing.
I know it is quite strange
to crave a tasteless hamburger
when filet mignon is on the table,
however, I think what I truly crave
is the familiar...
#anxiety
545 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
31st Dec 2019 4:35am
31st Dec 2019 4:35am
Seedling
The sound of whispers
echo endlessly
in the soul
of the damned;
unintelligible words
commingled
with toxic silence,
the mind hovering
over the void,
suspended
by a single breath
held in nervous anxiety,
awaiting the nudge
of fates hand
-the exhale-
and then,
the slow fall.
Thus is taken the will
from the life ;
thus the seedling
tears it's own roots
from the soil
-leaving itself to wilt
on the asphalt-
it's leaves turned down
hiding their faces
from the...
echo endlessly
in the soul
of the damned;
unintelligible words
commingled
with toxic silence,
the mind hovering
over the void,
suspended
by a single breath
held in nervous anxiety,
awaiting the nudge
of fates hand
-the exhale-
and then,
the slow fall.
Thus is taken the will
from the life ;
thus the seedling
tears it's own roots
from the soil
-leaving itself to wilt
on the asphalt-
it's leaves turned down
hiding their faces
from the...
#MentalHealth
528 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by TyrannicalWorm (Nathan A. Brock)
