Confessional Poems
#confessional
Confessional poetry gets inside the head of the author, exploring their repressed anguish or deepest emotions. Revealing and personal poems, which often describe parts of the author's life which are not usually in the public domain. Confessional poetry is a style of writing which emerged in the 1950s and 1960s.
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No Longer have to Watch Election Crap
Now back to important things like porn and weird sex and other fun abuses ...
#confessional
#culture
#dirty
#politics
#porn
26 reads
3 Comments
Raging
Raging
Will you laugh before you cry
Will your emotions take over
I’m gonna laugh until I’m sleeping in
A sarcophagus dreaming dirt naps
Happiness Anger everything in between
Wear an emotion on my sleeve
I show you what I’m all about I’m scary real
My temper rules my world and I want to escape
Sometimes I scare even myself when I see
The Rage that lives within me
5’7” I scare Mountains of men
I go back and replay what happened
And I’m amazed that my Rage is a Bull in a...
Will you laugh before you cry
Will your emotions take over
I’m gonna laugh until I’m sleeping in
A sarcophagus dreaming dirt naps
Happiness Anger everything in between
Wear an emotion on my sleeve
I show you what I’m all about I’m scary real
My temper rules my world and I want to escape
Sometimes I scare even myself when I see
The Rage that lives within me
5’7” I scare Mountains of men
I go back and replay what happened
And I’m amazed that my Rage is a Bull in a...
#anger
#confessional
#identity #myself
#identity #myself
19 reads
0 Comments
Mother Brighton
It's February and i'm
here Mother Brighton
I already feel your purple
and blues rising to the
surface, bleeding like
no other month or
place ever could
I could never tell whether
it's instinct or coincidental,
as your arms widen knowing
i'm falling the fuck apart which
is the only metaphor my tongue
could pluck about bleeding
with a chance of violence.
It's February and i'm
here Mother Brighton
my hands slot heavy rocks
with splattered patterns in
two of my front...
here Mother Brighton
I already feel your purple
and blues rising to the
surface, bleeding like
no other month or
place ever could
I could never tell whether
it's instinct or coincidental,
as your arms widen knowing
i'm falling the fuck apart which
is the only metaphor my tongue
could pluck about bleeding
with a chance of violence.
It's February and i'm
here Mother Brighton
my hands slot heavy rocks
with splattered patterns in
two of my front...
#addiction
#confessional
#depression
22 reads
0 Comments
Slipping Into My Dream
First, there was a leaf
And it sailed on a stream
Sailed far away, as a paper boat
Floating in my dreams
As strangers by the sidewalk
Drifting away, and astray
There is no way
You and I, hear each other
With these silent poems, unsent letters
Flowers with no scent
Turns to be fire
And there goes her bloom into the boom
And the bus is burning
With her feet spread on the seat
In the front, as flames expire on her skin
With smears of oil and coal
And a noose tighten on her throat
With beads of sweat...
And it sailed on a stream
Sailed far away, as a paper boat
Floating in my dreams
As strangers by the sidewalk
Drifting away, and astray
There is no way
You and I, hear each other
With these silent poems, unsent letters
Flowers with no scent
Turns to be fire
And there goes her bloom into the boom
And the bus is burning
With her feet spread on the seat
In the front, as flames expire on her skin
With smears of oil and coal
And a noose tighten on her throat
With beads of sweat...
#confessional
#dreams
#loneliness
46 reads
2 Comments
Imposter
Fear of being a fraud
Always been my fallout
How can I move forward
If I fear being found out
I tried in this life
But did I really?
Whether or not so
Imposter syndrome killed me
I wish for a better excuse
But no, just that
The feeling of not truly good enough
Keeps me on my lap
Move onward
No, downward
Self-induced penalties too great
Leaves nothing but a coward
Always been my fallout
How can I move forward
If I fear being found out
I tried in this life
But did I really?
Whether or not so
Imposter syndrome killed me
I wish for a better excuse
But no, just that
The feeling of not truly good enough
Keeps me on my lap
Move onward
No, downward
Self-induced penalties too great
Leaves nothing but a coward
#confessional
#fear
#FeelingLost
#SelfReflection
#vulnerability
67 reads
2 Comments
Cloven Tongue Poetry @ M1AG 10/26
A poetry show I did at my church in Manning, SC featuring poetry from my recently released album DARQ (Death and Redemptive Qualities) and the corresponding book LIGHT (Lines Inspired by Grace, Honesty, and Truth). Featured poems in order as they appear on the video:
- Zombie Lines
- Collateral Damage
- Phantom Self
- Schizophrenic Intercessor
- The Interrogation
- Illnesses of Mass Destruction
- Double Cross
- Zombie Lines
- Collateral Damage
- Phantom Self
- Schizophrenic Intercessor
- The Interrogation
- Illnesses of Mass Destruction
- Double Cross
#cancer
#confessional
#LifeStruggles
#SelfReflection
#SelfWorth
93 reads
0 Comments
Baptized by Taylor’s Port and Mary Jane
Baptized by Taylor’s Port and Mary Jane
My black robe needs tailoring
Pinch my nose and I fall back into
The red waters of my sins
MJ throws a lifeline
Inhale my savior
Breathing Holy Spirit out of my lungs
Fog forms on the altar
Leave some quarters to light a candle
On my knees in the bottle
Doesn’t take the tarnish off of who I am
So I dip myself in again
Hoping to shed some sins
At least a little
Leave my flank open
Mary Jane comes back in
With her sins
...
My black robe needs tailoring
Pinch my nose and I fall back into
The red waters of my sins
MJ throws a lifeline
Inhale my savior
Breathing Holy Spirit out of my lungs
Fog forms on the altar
Leave some quarters to light a candle
On my knees in the bottle
Doesn’t take the tarnish off of who I am
So I dip myself in again
Hoping to shed some sins
At least a little
Leave my flank open
Mary Jane comes back in
With her sins
...
#addiction
#alcohol
#confessional #marijuana
#confessional #marijuana
63 reads
2 Comments
My kind, your kind
For Samhain
I hear words falling in a world
pronouncing them dead,
I watch as proud little letters
slowly burn on this modern soil
as those stay at home humans
setting up tables, their lips firmly
closed, and staying small, keep
on haunting steel and stone as
they passed down all that
once lived through them.
If you wish to believe this skin
was made to roam inside
those limited of spirits
i'm afraid you are mistaken
because my kind is not your kind,
i'm a wide...
I hear words falling in a world
pronouncing them dead,
I watch as proud little letters
slowly burn on this modern soil
as those stay at home humans
setting up tables, their lips firmly
closed, and staying small, keep
on haunting steel and stone as
they passed down all that
once lived through them.
If you wish to believe this skin
was made to roam inside
those limited of spirits
i'm afraid you are mistaken
because my kind is not your kind,
i'm a wide...
#confessional
#culture
#freedom
#LifeStruggles
#tradition
71 reads
0 Comments
I cry too much even
I cry too much even
When I don’t why and talk too much
But you won’t stop me from spreading
My Truth it’s my True even if you can’t see
Everything you’d imagine but it’s my dream
Can’t slip between the covers of my soul
I know just which way to go
Stand upon my demons and say
Stand down I can’t see them
They are blemishes of my life
But they don’t say who I Am
But I wear them like a badge of honor
Who I am and who I want to become
Step aside all the hate ...
When I don’t why and talk too much
But you won’t stop me from spreading
My Truth it’s my True even if you can’t see
Everything you’d imagine but it’s my dream
Can’t slip between the covers of my soul
I know just which way to go
Stand upon my demons and say
Stand down I can’t see them
They are blemishes of my life
But they don’t say who I Am
But I wear them like a badge of honor
Who I am and who I want to become
Step aside all the hate ...
#confessional
#mirror
#myself
48 reads
0 Comments
The Thoughts that Followed
Remember me as I was
Not as I am.
For I know the man who lays in my bed,
No more than the boy who sung sweet melodies into the night wind.
How did this tangle spiral?
It is love,
I’m sure.
I loved you.
More than I should have.
So I buried the boy with the soft eyes,
But you looked for him.
So I tried to bury you too.
It was for your own good.
It was for my own good.
Remember me as I was, ...
Not as I am.
For I know the man who lays in my bed,
No more than the boy who sung sweet melodies into the night wind.
How did this tangle spiral?
It is love,
I’m sure.
I loved you.
More than I should have.
So I buried the boy with the soft eyes,
But you looked for him.
So I tried to bury you too.
It was for your own good.
It was for my own good.
Remember me as I was, ...
#confessional
59 reads
2 Comments
Underneath
Bones on display
Skeletons in the closet
Heart on sleeve
Naked underneath
Skeletons in the closet
Heart on sleeve
Naked underneath
#confessional
#mirror
#myself
45 reads
0 Comments
Conversation with myself
Please stop screwing up your life.
It's my life too.
It's my life too.
#confessional
#myself
48 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Confessional Poems