PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When the man of the house threatens to put a leash on you,

The best step now is to see yourself out to force him to rue.

in what dark recesses of torture remain

exists a dreaded seed for us to obtain

to keep us sane and deliver us from evil

so goes the creed of an everlasting people

unending doubt resonates to be

impermanance rooted in an everlasting dream

scarcity of hope glimmering in dusk

prevention of fortune in a world of luck

forever told from stories past

eerily reminiscent of perpetual task

systems of new destroyed wisdom once known

for all apart of a world unsown

grimmace and malice plagued once more

in dire times that conjured vile scorn

but it was hope that was given once last chance

now grows a tree from the seed of our past

Mommy, Jessie tried to attack me with a weed eater
My sister tried to stab me.
It’s a nightmare Feeder. I was only 4.
Mommy are we poor? You lied. Daddies not a woman beater

Hotshot was my favorite transformer
Armada. Got dreaming I could be a performer
Playing with my pets and throwing fits.
I was 5 when my dad showed me a girl and her tits

Cinnamon, Corey, Charlie you will all be missed
A child with his mind tumbled. He was troubled.
“Baby, you’re so spoiled”
A couple years went by and my brother left the house,

I started to pounce. Like a cat. What happened to my cats.
Knowing my step dad they were taken out and smashed with a bat
til they felt pain or were slain.
Hiding under the mat I sat.

A fucking shame and my mom divorced my father.
Fucking lame. You don’t understand me.
Fuck off. Ill never be the same.
Said I was Autistic. But you misdiagnosed!

Stop trying to pass the blame
Stop trying to pretend you’re optimistic.
I don’t need a psychiatrist looking at all my problems.
Only I can solve them.

Oh sweet, sweet love

This day is meant for us

This day of passion and romance

With a hint of lust

Your crimson lips I yearn for

Your crimson lips that stain

Each and every memory

Helping me stay sane

Memories with a scent

Only your presence can leave

Another lost breathe,

That has been taken from me

Eyes molded in every thought

Angelic flesh beside me; lay

Sensations left on my skin

Reminders of the day

Traces of you are found

Intertwining with my heart

Footprint after footprint

A perfect love to impart

A day so sublime

A night so ideal

Today is meant for us

Flawlessly surreal

Untitled Repose

Because I am an emotional man,                                                                                                                                                                 Who has it in his head that emotions are irrational,                                                                                                                                     And whom in the absurdity of this misery,                                                                                                                                              Prefers to hold the hand of these abstractions,

So then as my pen touches down on paper,                                                                                                                                                      I am made whole and then released to roam.

Thus it is to be,                                                                                                                                                                                             That the young and growing poets dream,                                                                                                                                                                  Is ever to remain alive in the hungry heart,                                                                                                                                                     Of said endless illusion.

On the whiteness of this page,                                                                                                                                                                      Past the singular threads bleached black,

Lays the grunt of the imagination grazing on the plane of our reality,

And in this native hue of resolution,

~Like Others Past~

I am none the less:

“Sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought’’

And all my sins remembered,

To watch the time

During these hours I am alive.

I feel and love,

Most notably the lack, and with that hunger, thirst.

For I know not what is my hope.

I know not It nor the absence of knowing it.

One might say I face a grimmer fate...

To not know anything at all.

But this crimson destiny is nothing short of an adventure!

Yes, and what I face, I will face with a shining smile of optimism.

Let it be shrouded in misty darkness,

Or be blanketed by the blinding lights of the morning sun,

But I will face whatever fate come fort.

And to these lonely moments,

That come to me in wait,

And with their presence mock,

I bid to them a word or two,

For it is they that keep me sane,

Enough at least to walk as if I were.

There's a man standing

outside my window

On his back,

he wears a sheathed sword

He paces back and forth

in the parking lot

Talking to himself

as he pulls out his blade

This town is strange

Is this man deranged?

He doesn't seem sane

As he stands in the rain

My recollections are making me change,

making me turn psychotic. This rage,

it's making me cave, opposite of brave,

I just want to start over and behave.

I've lost contact with reality,

and I'm bound to mental simplicity,

consisting of nightmares passed, true.

Before I fall, erase me, replace me,

with an unknowing, undamaged clone.

I don't want memories, I want to be free.

I want to peacefully, alone, go home.

I just want to calm down.

I need to calm down.

I don't want to be bound.

I am forever bound.

I am lost in how to solve this;

proof is in the scars, hard to miss.

I don't admit my problem out of fear;

I see only but shame in the mirror.

I refuse pills, and I refuse therapy,

for they will not once ever help me.

I need elimination;

obliteration if these thoughts.

I need to find a way, mind how they

slit my dreams, see them sit and rot.

I can't do it, go through with it.

My cowaring mind, endless demise,

won't let me end it all, but calls

to my inner self, my peaceful paradise

of images so right, so unlike

reality in its way to forgive me,

live in me; let me sit and be free.

Only one choice lies possible.

It denies in replies to take a toll

on my sanity. Don't you see? I can't stop.

I'm not as strong as you thought I wasn't.

The choice is to sit, so delicately sit,

and fit into my mask, slip it on.

It's so beautiful, it's so perfectly wrong.

The tears drop through, but I'm still in denial.

They can see naught but my pretty smile.

When the day is over and dusk turns to dawn,

my mask, still a smile. My soul forever gone.

The knife cuts and the holder bleeds
All for love, but it's respect she needs

The stone eyed men foster madness
In their prey they nourish a seed of sadness

Black and blue is what they give
They care not for her soul to live

The nymph can't see colors, she craves more pain
Pleasing and pleading is her most walked lane

At night she sleeps and her bruises weep
But the cravings are wounds even more deep

Beauty stained with a Spanish whip
The beholder holds her reality's grip 

She wakes in chains
Standing up to gods
Thoughts so vain