00:00
00:00

It's the Poetry Corner

317 Views | 32 Replies
New Topic Respond to this Topic

It's the Poetry Corner 2019-06-25 01:23:46


...and it's time to write poetry.


During my worst times I always wrote some poetry. Please do the same, if you feel inclined.


- - -


another night with the bottle


i wanted you to be my mother


i never wanted to be a brawler


but you cover your sorrow


no responsibility for tomorrow


your "baby boy" is no longer a crawler


he's running away, and fast


from his own hollow-- how long can he last?


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-06-25 06:54:54


another day alive


money for my time


i work without thought


since my next meal is bought


i've been on my grind


and through these loop-de-loops


i found how to survive


everything, i've felt it


a spectrum of emotion-- i can't help it


and neither would coke or pills


i've seen drugs destroy everything


take away from me people i thought were real


prescribed or not


i'd rather just roll with the hills


since being sober is all that i got


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-06-27 07:58:54 (edited 2019-06-27 08:07:20)


it's painfully obvious


past mistakes and promises


were made inside the wrong


since we have gotten along


you became my brother


a helper to me, and to all others


you saw potential


as i flew off the handle


i thought i was mental


but you knew where I can go


so many thanks my friend


as I leave on my journey,


I promise to tell you the end


as I continue learning.


- - - - - - - -


This for my friend that has never given up on me... He looked at me at my worst and still believed in me.... Something I've never had from anybody who wqs supposed to be "close" to me...


I'll send this to him when I start my trip across the country.


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-06-27 18:48:22


Being me hurts

I am suffering

From the worst

It is never ending


You are the best

You, me, and the next

The money, the sex, the imprisonment

It's poetic being under house arrest


Signs outside your cages

Speaking of heaven, of sages

The signs, the signs

Will never lie for ages


Poetic is the best life can see

the best you will never be

and heaven is real

because this sure as hell isn't reality.



BBS Signature

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-01 20:51:54


honesty sucks and blows


a heart needs air, and this girl needs clothes


we can lose one or the other because of where this fling goes


she's my "little sister", and I'm her "little bro"


titles representing the unreal


friends from when she was mistreated, and stronger friends still


when she runs her hand up my leg, I am defeated-- I am so still


when she says "I love you," I say "I love you too," for real


hurts seeing a strong person being hurt still


beat by her boyfriend, broken by her father--


she's at a loss for words, and I am her author


no wonder I'm out of breath when I am around her


she can't confront the fact that I enjoy being single


showing me off to her friends-- they tell me they like me


this is never going to end--hate it so much--this is why I am writing


she's gonna try again and again to be more than my friend


but I'm gonna brush her off 'til I'm at the point where I'm not afraid to go all-in


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-04 11:58:40


stopped and had a good meal for once


mind is sober and clear from blunts


the trauma no longer bothers me


mind is free and clear of casualty


the hate for myself has subsided


now it's just me, myself, and the space provided


GREED


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-11 21:36:28 (edited 2019-07-11 21:39:03)


Deep Blue_


it's an honest vulnerability


you're in love with you


i'm in love with me


you love with what you do--


your talk is tall, but cheap


i purchase a singular drink


and sew into our dreams


- - - - - -


it's 6am


awake, unlike your friends


she gave chase; i caved near the end


tongue down my throat


breasts in my face


hands around her neck


inside a comfy place:


"why are you so nice to me--"


i smile, politely


"--nobody's nice to me."


she confides, meakly


it's not every day


we give away


what it is that we're keeping


open as the ocean


body like the summer sun


i'm glad that she came


she's glad she's not the only one


we walk upstairs


leaving the meal we've prepared


and cuddle


going to bed


knowing this needs a rebuttal


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-16 08:01:27


Jasmine, and I'm at a point of breaking. I wish I could stop.

stop time,

stop battering,

stop batteries,

stop wilting

stop willowing,

stop the scenery,

stop the way the windows strain

wish water was less wet for rain


I hate that everything stains when you scream for help once

so why did I never scream.

I worked my way into a shout, so I'm just starting

if I typed a little louder,

would you help me out?


I asked, allowed.


would anyone help me out?


I'm stuck in my mother's basement

but I feel like she dragged me out 


xoxo

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-16 12:42:37


I'm Not Stupid


i dont need to prove it

____yet i proved it

yet i have to hear how i need improvement


Lost My Home, Lost My Goals

is that not enough?

____tears down my face

as i spill my guts


is that not enough?

____rage paints the walls red

i fell, and i fall 'til im close to dead

bought debt due to death's threats


i need money to eat

i try to climb out of this hole

____but i dont have the speed


lacking energy

lacking friends

lacking family

____fight me please


want my knuckles to show the same color as my heart-- a deep red


rope in my closet calling my name

pulling me from out of my bed

____it calls my bluff


is that not enough?

or am i too much...


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-07-23 19:58:07


or burn up and wilt


wildflower in a sandstorm


it's kill or be killed


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-09 15:17:04 (edited 2019-08-09 15:18:16)


I'm forced to be the strong one


because you aren't


I'm forced to be the smart one


because you aren't


I'm forced to be a ghost setting feelings on fire to force the alarm


because you couldn't fathom the strength that I have at my worst when disturbance starts corrupting my charm


I'm a discrepency-- forever away from the system


a wish in the mirror, as I'm talking to myself in my head through my mission:


"You'll make it today, and tomorrow, too."


always picking myself off the pavement in pieces that they can borrow too


Can I have my personality back?


my taglines

my phrases

the joy I've created


my compliments

my pain my passion

your favorite reactions


or so it happens


because my heart is too large for my chest


so it bursts forth, out of my soul


helping everyone out no matter the cost


until my heart is no longer full


until I've been used like a tissue and the anger takes over control


the love dissipates along with my goals


I turn into a coward who pulls and he pulls


pulling the pieces away from others to once again attempt to be whole


where is the value in grabbing from others what I demand on my own?


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-13 09:48:34


today is the last day of my life


burning in flames, crackling snake eyes


luck ran out, and greed, and pain too


numb to the following-- splitting the seams on said shoes


I crave what I am; a shell with no fame; a man with no friends


today I dig the grave for my end


I watch as my former self hops inside the damp dirt


I covered him as well as I could-- I can't move backwards


its time to move on, the headstone


it reads, "Here lies the past as I wish for my other self to get grown."


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-15 17:37:52


dried leaf memories

the collectivist

blood cells and brain nerves

thoughts put on backwards


palm puzzles and scars

embracing of mar

mounds of ash; the past

cannon aimed at back


heaving of insides

deeper volts of mind

suicide of crime

thump the wall; absolve


blood cores of us all

the ceremony

the activation

forgotten yourself


damnable nation

broken, bruised, and used

controlled to a null

ritual the void


destroy to destroy

enjoyment from toy

reflecting a doll

away from involved


detached, splish-splashed paint

you are not the same

painful to remain

view them far away


a ghost of a shell

promised not to tell

inside it so screams

promised to not say


anything.


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-17 07:57:44 (edited 2019-08-17 08:27:07)


Easy Mode


What is the controller?

does it reside in your hobbies?

your dreams ?

is your value coined inside material things?

is your habitat a challenge with mysteries?


Where is the controller?

in your hands, or your father's?

mother's, brother's, sister's?

The ghost that makes your wrists hurt?


Where is the pain?

is the void numbed through time spent less active?

sitting in a chair, but never backwards


Where is the mind?

Gone? replaced by a theme that you

belong?

Have you faced it?

met face-to-face with facets

so unreal they take away?


You are the controller

Hands grip around your being as sweat pours from orifices

Anxiety swells, impossibly small from the reality you've dwelled

Dug inside the brain is a new home less insane, more innate, contained beautifully inside the soul


Until

it's

time

to

pause


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-17 08:23:03


i am stuck

transfixed in position

a glorified shmuck


i am stuck

but how?!?

i require time to figure this out


i am stuck

there's no way i cannot move

i have two legs i intend to use


i am stuck

But you are too!

I CAN SHOW YOU WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE CONFUSED


i am stuck

there is----there must be a way!

i'd sell my soul for a chance at another day!


i am stuck

i apologize, i'm such a burden...

i'm not worthy enough, of that i'm certain...


i am stuck

nothing to pass the time

no reason or rhyme

please take my life


i am stuck

and i should be

i was miserable when i was free

i required a chance to perceive

what it was like to love someone like me

one day i'll get out of this muck

right now i am thankful


for such good luck


i am stuck


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-25 14:24:13


Beyond the surface is the echolation of my self-truths


I'm painfully aware of the harm inflicted from self-abuse


If only I was educated from the start about self-use


The drugs numb the senses before you let your self loose


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-28 22:55:50


CONSUMPTION

>CONSUMPTION

>>CONSUMPTION


i CANNOT halt

faceted as my only function


vast ConCocTionS null

unable to SeE the corruption


REPETITION will end us ALL.


I hope I live

to see through the production


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-31 05:25:19


I have one. We're doing poetry for school, so I thought I'd give it a shot here to see what people think:

(*Ahem)

One day long before,

when we were thought of as gods.

They were kings and queens of fate, they could cure heartache,

yet were cursed with a hole in their heart they couldn't satiate.

Slowly but surely, the God-folk fell,

succumbed to the heart-hole they could not quell,

suddenly, the truth, the world wasn't enough

And to the world of lies they turned.

The God-folk became obsessed with the greatest lie,

and unbound from the shackles of truth, they flew high.

With nothing to bind them to the truth of the Earth,

they no longer saw the world for what it was truly worth.


But these God-folk did not leave the world just yet.

There were some God-folk that wove a net,

this net was in the shape of a promise, a vow

to nature, beauty and greatest of all, truth, they would bow.


The net was woven about their tongues,

the air in their lungs, their very voice.

Yet as they tried to rejoice, they discovered the horror of what they had done.


And with that they tried to speak,

and there was not a sound, not even fragile or weak.

And with that they clawed ravenously for a truth to seek

yet it was all, everything, tainted with untruth's reek

whether in small speckles, or larger piles,

that vow shaped net could not be defiled

At this horror, they tried to scream,

but they could not make a sound it seemed...


please tell me what you thought, it would be much appreciated

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-31 10:01:15 (edited 2019-08-31 10:03:48)


At 8/31/19 05:25 AM, Glass-Barnacle wrote: I have one. We're doing poetry for school, so I thought I'd give it a shot here to see what people think

please tell me what you thought, it would be much appreciated


Well, that was awesome.


Your poem is a really cool story that anyone that reads it will take something with them. There's the unique twist that even though the Gods that stayed on Earth wove a net of truths, they still lost their voices and were terrified after the net's completion. Prior to the net was the Gods that left because of the "hole in their heart", and because of their inability to stay on Earth and see the need for Earth, they severed their connections with Earthly needs. Like a typical, and philosophical, Greek myth, your poem invokes questions about morals and forces the reader to contemplate the weird life the Gods live. Would the reader have left the Earth, or stayed to weave the truths of the joy of Earth and consequentially lost their voices in morbid horror ?


You should examine your poem and decide to up-the-ante of your wordplay, if it interests you. Some more descriptive words would help the narrative flow a bit easier.


There became kings and queens of fate, able to mend whatever heartache,
yet they were cursed with a hole in their heart, impossible for them to satiate.
Over time the curse beckoned, and the God-folk fell,
they succumbed to the heart-hole they were unable to quell,
suddenly, the truth, the world wasn't enough
And towards the world of lies they turned
through their eyes was a calling of bluff
The God-folk became obsessed with the greatest lie,
and unbound from the shackles of truth, they flew high.
With nothing to bind them to the truth of the Earth,
they no longer saw the world for what it was truly worth.


If you truly love your poem, reread it back to yourself and see if you can't play with its word choices. This is the best part of poetry. For me, playing with the words can grant a more descriptive world, and a deeper connection to the beautiful story you wrote.


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-08-31 11:01:50


At 8/31/19 10:01 AM, Xinxinix wrote:
At 8/31/19 05:25 AM, Glass-Barnacle wrote: I have one. We're doing poetry for school, so I thought I'd give it a shot here to see what people think

please tell me what you thought, it would be much appreciated
Well, that was awesome.

Your poem is a really cool story that anyone that reads it will take something with them. There's the unique twist that even though the Gods that stayed on Earth wove a net of truths, they still lost their voices and were terrified after the net's completion. Prior to the net was the Gods that left because of the "hole in their heart", and because of their inability to stay on Earth and see the need for Earth, they severed their connections with Earthly needs. Like a typical, and philosophical, Greek myth, your poem invokes questions about morals and forces the reader to contemplate the weird life the Gods live. Would the reader have left the Earth, or stayed to weave the truths of the joy of Earth and consequentially lost their voices in morbid horror ?

You should examine your poem and decide to up-the-ante of your wordplay, if it interests you. Some more descriptive words would help the narrative flow a bit easier.

There became kings and queens of fate, able to mend whatever heartache,
yet they were cursed with a hole in their heart, impossible for them to satiate.
Over time the curse beckoned, and the God-folk fell,
they succumbed to the heart-hole they were unable to quell,
suddenly, the truth, the world wasn't enough
And towards the world of lies they turned
through their eyes was a calling of bluff
The God-folk became obsessed with the greatest lie,
and unbound from the shackles of truth, they flew high.
With nothing to bind them to the truth of the Earth,
they no longer saw the world for what it was truly worth.
If you truly love your poem, reread it back to yourself and see if you can't play with its word choices. This is the best part of poetry. For me, playing with the words can grant a more descriptive world, and a deeper connection to the beautiful story you wrote.


thank you. I think that it was quite obvious that I was far more focused on what the poem was saying rather that the words themselves (hence a bunch of stretches to hit rhymes). I've been kicking that idea in my head for ages now, and it felt good to write down. But yeah, I will try and work more on the presentation of the work, because it's clearly very important to how one take it in.

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-03 15:43:25


eating flowers


crushing pedals


loving sunshine


insisting mental


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-04 23:21:12


unbeknownst to me are general gestures

kindness

sadness

empathy


enigmatic to me are familial pesters

calling

culling

loving

pleasures


let's start a family with infinite insanity

scrawling

sprawling

clawing

festers


hate to our heart's content in play-pretend

rubbed

tugged

bugged

immeasured


seek with others what lacks in lovers

misdirection

imperfection

inattentive

unintended


judge each other not on what was governed

bound

together

by

time

forever


hate yourself for being overly-clever

love

not

what

was

lost


instead enjoy the thoughts you severed

goodbye

forever

hello

new

endeavor


starting over feels like love is measured


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-05 11:05:17


I like toast

Buttered toast

Especially on sourdough bread

I put it in my mouth

All the way in my mouth

I'll eat it until I am dead

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-06 15:17:10


At 9/5/19 11:05 AM, XavierR wrote: I like toast
Buttered toast
Especially on sourdough bread
I put it in my mouth
All the way in my mouth
I'll eat it until I am dead


I hate sourdough

my cringing toes

backwards rolls


I killed sourdough

drove over it

on the road


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-06 19:51:03


At 9/6/19 03:17 PM, Xinxinix wrote:
At 9/5/19 11:05 AM, XavierR wrote: I like toast
Buttered toast
Especially on sourdough bread
I put it in my mouth
All the way in my mouth
I'll eat it until I am dead
I hate sourdough
my cringing toes
backwards rolls

I killed sourdough
drove over it
on the road


I hate your hate

Your retaliate bait

About my precious tasty treat

Keep your opinions from the gutter

By trying it with butter

Or at least stay off the street

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-06 20:38:21


At 9/6/19 07:51 PM, XavierR wrote:
At 9/6/19 03:17 PM, Xinxinix wrote:
At 9/5/19 11:05 AM, XavierR wrote: I like toast
Buttered toast
Especially on sourdough bread
I put it in my mouth
All the way in my mouth
I'll eat it until I am dead
I hate sourdough
my cringing toes
backwards rolls

I killed sourdough
drove over it
on the road
I hate your hate
Your retaliate bait
About my precious tasty treat
Keep your opinions from the gutter
By trying it with butter
Or at least stay off the street


I enjoy my bread, my friend

But my head is filled with dread once again


Within my sight, I can spy it

Too putrid to look at, let alone try it


It is time to finish it off with threats

I apply swift insults instead of a buttery spread


"You look fluffier than a furry, dont worry--"

"You're about as American as curry, so surely--"

"There is no way a bread, as gay as you--"

"Could end up inside of me, not trying to be lewd."


As I have trounced, I try to dash off

But the bread denounced to my back, some equal trash talk


"You are afraid to eat me, o wise one"

"You cannot comprehend that I am great for everyone"

"Go now and cower in fear"

"I do not want a no-bread-body as weak as you near."


I turn back around, frail and dismissive

I triumph my pride, and make eating my mission


NOM NOM NOM

HOW DELICIOUS YOU ARE


NOM NOM NOM

NOT MADE WITH YEAST, YOU'RE A BEAUTIFUL STAR


NOM NOM NOM


the bread cried out in agony

while i was chomping away


but with the last of its breath

there was a smile on its face


THE END


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-06 20:47:32


A mark upon the skin

A mark upon a whim

What I love to do

Is digging deep within


A gravestone adjacent to a plot

A plot packed to the top with rock

Memories as solid as ashen snow

Falling from grace while passion blowed


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-07 11:48:13


At 9/6/19 08:38 PM, Xinxinix wrote:
At 9/6/19 07:51 PM, XavierR wrote:
At 9/6/19 03:17 PM, Xinxinix wrote:
At 9/5/19 11:05 AM, XavierR wrote: I like toast
Buttered toast
Especially on sourdough bread
I put it in my mouth
All the way in my mouth
I'll eat it until I am dead
I hate sourdough
my cringing toes
backwards rolls

I killed sourdough
drove over it
on the road
I hate your hate
Your retaliate bait
About my precious tasty treat
Keep your opinions from the gutter
By trying it with butter
Or at least stay off the street
I enjoy my bread, my friend
But my head is filled with dread once again

Within my sight, I can spy it
Too putrid to look at, let alone try it

It is time to finish it off with threats
I apply swift insults instead of a buttery spread

"You look fluffier than a furry, dont worry--"
"You're about as American as curry, so surely--"
"There is no way a bread, as gay as you--"
"Could end up inside of me, not trying to be lewd."

As I have trounced, I try to dash off
But the bread denounced to my back, some equal trash talk

"You are afraid to eat me, o wise one"
"You cannot comprehend that I am great for everyone"
"Go now and cower in fear"
"I do not want a no-bread-body as weak as you near."

I turn back around, frail and dismissive
I triumph my pride, and make eating my mission

NOM NOM NOM
HOW DELICIOUS YOU ARE

NOM NOM NOM
NOT MADE WITH YEAST, YOU'RE A BEAUTIFUL STAR

NOM NOM NOM

the bread cried out in agony
while i was chomping away

but with the last of its breath
there was a smile on its face

THE END


Well played, sir. Well played.

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-07 14:30:20


Suckle the tit of the conglomerate

Piss away talent and fortune for vain

A flame under a spoon or an expensive afternoon

We all kill ourselves to obey


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>

Response to It's the Poetry Corner 2019-09-10 18:09:20 (edited 2019-09-10 18:11:29)


and i'm insane for seein' it

i'm insane for believin' in

somethin' different

than every other human bein' is


i stare at the sky

fuel for my damaged mind

the darkness soaks my shine

the universe asks if i'm alive


it takes time for a star to burn

but it doesn't take long for it to blind

it takes time for a start to learn

but it doesn't take long to build your mind


the sunrise, the sunrise

i'm waiting for

the sunrise, the sunrise

i'm waiting for


a difference in the twinkle of my eyes

i'm waiting for

a difference in the wrinkle of my disguise

i'm waiting for


a reason to change

a reason to rage

each and every page

is seemin' the same


i'm in a grave, i'm in a grave

the moon howls at its little knave

a theif inside a cave within the ground

stealing moments to cry out


when no one's around


Respectfully unaware since <<insert date of birth here>>