Submissions by dimitri131 (Dimitri Marek)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
In all honesty, I find that my poems are how I feel when I write them out.
Boy
Boy is a term that is used for a slave, a servant. I am indentured to no mortal. So don't call me boy.
Boy is a term of belittlement, and I won't stand to be belittled. So don't you dare call me boy.
Boy is a term that strips me of everything that I have worked to achieve for my entire life. So don't you dare to ever call me boy.
Boy is a term that is very much becoming the antithesis of who I have become, and I will not allow you to call me something so demeaning. So don't you fucking dare to ever call me boy.
Boy is not my name and it is not a title of affection. If you...
Boy is a term of belittlement, and I won't stand to be belittled. So don't you dare call me boy.
Boy is a term that strips me of everything that I have worked to achieve for my entire life. So don't you dare to ever call me boy.
Boy is a term that is very much becoming the antithesis of who I have become, and I will not allow you to call me something so demeaning. So don't you fucking dare to ever call me boy.
Boy is not my name and it is not a title of affection. If you...
565 reads
1 Comment
How Can I Serve You?
How can I serve you my liege? I am only here to please.
It is not like I really matter to you, so how can I shatter my soul more for you?
How can I serve you my lord? I want to make life easier for you, no matter my own costs.
How can I destroy myself for you today?
How can I serve you my queen? I'm just a whim after all, so my opinions don't matter.
How can I sell myself off for you now?
It is not like I really matter to you, so how can I shatter my soul more for you?
How can I serve you my lord? I want to make life easier for you, no matter my own costs.
How can I destroy myself for you today?
How can I serve you my queen? I'm just a whim after all, so my opinions don't matter.
How can I sell myself off for you now?
672 reads
0 Comments
Let's Play a Game Shall We?
Lets play a game shall we?
A game that I like to call madness.
The rules of this game are complex and they change often.
Let's play game, and see how long the fun lasts.
This game I have been playing since the moment I was born.
Let's play a game where the pieces are your sanity.
Let's play a game where there are no winners, only losers.
Let us play a game...
A game that I like to call madness.
The rules of this game are complex and they change often.
Let's play game, and see how long the fun lasts.
This game I have been playing since the moment I was born.
Let's play a game where the pieces are your sanity.
Let's play a game where there are no winners, only losers.
Let us play a game...
744 reads
0 Comments
Bittersweet friendships
People always tell me that I'm not alone in the wretched world, but it is hard to believe that. The same group of people that tell me this is the same group that makes me feel as though I’m alone. It is hard to believe the group that leaves the daggers in my heart and the swords in my back. The more they tell me that I am not alone the more I feel as though I'm alone in this world. It is hard to believe that I'm not alone when even the gods have forsaken me from time to time. So pray tell, what will you have to say to a man who feels more ethereal than physical, and in that ethereal state is...
492 reads
0 Comments
Ask me who I am
Ask me who I am, I dare you.
I dare you because I don't think that you want to know.
If you ask me who I am you might just be surprised by the answer that you get.
If you were to ask me who I am, I would say I don't know.
When that is said and done, you would look at me like I'm mad
What would you do with a man who doesn't know who he is?
Would you run and hide, or would you ask the next question?
"Why"
I would look at you and smile.
I would ask you if you are sure you want to open that door.
It would be your last warning...
I dare you because I don't think that you want to know.
If you ask me who I am you might just be surprised by the answer that you get.
If you were to ask me who I am, I would say I don't know.
When that is said and done, you would look at me like I'm mad
What would you do with a man who doesn't know who he is?
Would you run and hide, or would you ask the next question?
"Why"
I would look at you and smile.
I would ask you if you are sure you want to open that door.
It would be your last warning...
631 reads
0 Comments
Angels and Demons
Angels or demons…
Are the angels really pure, or are they the ones who are corrupt?
Are the demons truly evil, or do they just wish to be understood?
They might be one and the same, or total opposites,
Who are we to label them though, for we are not more than man.
Maybe we are the evil ones,
The demons are the good ones,
And the angels are the ones who are neutral.
Are the angels really pure, or are they the ones who are corrupt?
Are the demons truly evil, or do they just wish to be understood?
They might be one and the same, or total opposites,
Who are we to label them though, for we are not more than man.
Maybe we are the evil ones,
The demons are the good ones,
And the angels are the ones who are neutral.
815 reads
6 Comments
It is Late and I Wonder
It is late, and I don't know why, but I feel so empty inside.
I fear that I'm not good enough for her, and that she will leave, just like everyone else.
I fear that my cycle of disappointment will just keep rolling soon.
I know that she won't leave, but the fear is still there.
I want her to be happy and safe, but can I provide that to her?
It is late and I wonder about my other friends and family.
I wonder if they experience the same heartache that I do.
I wonder if they sit up and write poems that are never going to be shared.
I wonder if they think about me...
I fear that I'm not good enough for her, and that she will leave, just like everyone else.
I fear that my cycle of disappointment will just keep rolling soon.
I know that she won't leave, but the fear is still there.
I want her to be happy and safe, but can I provide that to her?
It is late and I wonder about my other friends and family.
I wonder if they experience the same heartache that I do.
I wonder if they sit up and write poems that are never going to be shared.
I wonder if they think about me...
488 reads
0 Comments
The Angel
An angel fallen, and bowed of the head
Eyes clad in darkness, some say sadness
Wings broken, dripping unknown blood
Defeat clear on the visage, maybe regret
Arms bound in hatred, but for what
Silence passes from the lips, caused by fear
Tears fall from eyes bloodshot, blind even
Marks flow down the body, soon to be erased
Brokenhearted the depths consume, yet reject
Feet of a vagabond, calluses rising silently
Tattered clothes wrap the frame, fragile as is
Tell me... What happens to the beauty, the love...
Eyes clad in darkness, some say sadness
Wings broken, dripping unknown blood
Defeat clear on the visage, maybe regret
Arms bound in hatred, but for what
Silence passes from the lips, caused by fear
Tears fall from eyes bloodshot, blind even
Marks flow down the body, soon to be erased
Brokenhearted the depths consume, yet reject
Feet of a vagabond, calluses rising silently
Tattered clothes wrap the frame, fragile as is
Tell me... What happens to the beauty, the love...
581 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by dimitri131 (Dimitri Marek)
Page: