OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

SEPARATED

separated from truth and

forced to lie.

IF everything is fine here

why must i lie?

why do i keep trying to die?

separated from love,

their crimes

inflicted routinely on my body,

mind, and soul

nothing to do with love

just deposit your false sentiments in

this sinkhole

right under our house.

implosion is not if

but when?

separated from family

the liars prevail.

everything was fine at our house---

she's always needed too much attention,

and constantly is lying about us, and well, you

know she's mentally ill.

maybe it is time for her next pill.

why isn't there a diagnosis for those

so willing to destroy their own child?

that has to be some

special brand of crazy.

no diagnosis is applied

because the destroyers don't

present for treatment.

why should they?

the problem is all me,

just ask them,

they'll happily tell you.

everything is fine here,

nothing to see.

apparently, the crazy label

is mine to wear till my time is done,

at least in this family,

unless some polar shift occurs.

separated from possibilities until someone

other than me

decides it is over, and hands over the key.

separated

from family and love

because they don't co-exist

within this twisted, gnarled,

mostly dead tree.

separated

excluded.

but now,

grafted onto another part of the tree

where life is evident

and truth is cherished.

i am believed there

and enveloped in love.

my branch begins to flower.

love for me

and fervent seeking of truth,

along with the will to act

on my behalf,

the healthy branches reach toward me

and coax me toward full bloom

with them.

i must take this sweet pill of love

daily-- it is

the latest

anti-oppression medication.

This a light lighted poem I wrote a few years ago hope you like it.

We've been together for such a long time,

Its taken for granted that you will be mine,

We've played together since we were small,

And still I see we're not that tall,

Grown up look at us and smile,

As we practice walking don the asle,

With my weeding dress thats far too long,

And the cat and dog that sing a song,

The vicar comes to shoo us away,

And tells us to play another day,

So we go to our parents for permission to wed,

But they laugh in our face and send us to bed,

Then in the morning they tell us to wait,

But I don't really blame them, cus we're only eight.

"THE STORM"

I can feel the thunder starting;

It is forming in that space.

Theres a Storm that dwells within my heart,

all it does is tear me apart.

The raindrops are falling down my face,

There could never be another to take your place~

When I think back on all the memories I have, one thought runs through my mind - You were always there.

I remember when you got me to sit on our dog's back, like a pony. I think you felt bad when I fell and hit my head • I think I was 4

I still have that denim jacket, the one that you stenciled my name across the back, and roses on the sides. It's faded now, all these years later • I was 7

When I was being being bullied by that boy at school, I remember feeling so proud to walk beside you when you came and picked me up that day, to walk me home • I was 10

You bought me a pack of smokes, and I promised to never tell mom • I was 13

You gave me my first beer to try - I felt so grown up, even though I thought it was gross. You didnt let anything bad happen to me either • I was 16

Through out the years, I'd listen to my friends talk about their brothers, complain about how they ruined dates and scared off potential boyfriends. I never joined in those conversations, I had nothing to say. I dont think we ever had one argument or fight.

When I was 19, I waited. I saw the pattern, every 3 years it seemed, I'd get a new memory. So I waited.

By the end of my 19th year, I tattooed your initials on my shoulder, reminding me to always appreciate the little things, even the most insignificant of events can become treasured memories.

The tattoo, like the jacket, has begun to fade. Sometimes I wish things could have been different, but I've accepted the way things are. You have your reasons - I may not agree, but I do understand.

I suppose, at least, you were consistent. After all, when I think back, you were always there.

and because you were always there, it meant that you were never here.

A Moment, is all..

Like all good, strong souls,
You're allowed one moment of weakness and utter despair.
How else will you ever know if you have hope to spare.
It's okay to break open and leave a Crack for something magical to fill in.
To grow and shine and be more beautiful than you've ever been.
Like all good souls,
You're allowed to cry and feel the pain and shout out a curse or two.
Worry not, I won't think any less of you.
For all the times you held your own and stood your ground.
Your strength and magnificence grew endlessly profound.

Just posting to let you all know that you're super talented and if anyone is reading through this thread and questioning whether or not they should post theirs, please do it. You can't improve without constructive criticism. More importantly, we all want to see your work (: I hope all of you continue doing this, even if you don't do anything substantial with it.

The Everyday Haze

The mornings were sublime
There was purpose
There were people
The days were filled
with busyness - absurd.

It was the nights
The darkness of those hours
in the emptiness,
seconds grew longer
The foible of the night.

'Twas between staring
at the trivial plafond
and the rush of images
behind sealed eyes - That
I suffered in You.

"What's the point?" I ask myself

As I smile

A perfect mimicry of a puppet

Pulled taunt by it's worn strings.

"What's the point?" I ask myself

As I laugh

To my friends and family

A broken record on repeat.

"What's the point?" I ask myself

As I sing along

To a beautiful song

Compiled from my screams

(silent as they be)

"What's the point?" I ask myself

As I sit around

So sweet and sound

With these thoughts that I can't bare

"What's the point?" I whisper once more

Not even by choice

As I say

With tears in my eyes

That there is none no more.

Embers

Every few hours, I look into the mirror.

And I just wonder why I was given such a figure.

A boy that everyone hates and despises,

a body that is constantly under compromises.

A body that yells and cries out.

But no one's there to hear its shout.

So what happened?

There are thousands of us, yet we are all still frightened.

I say something, yet no one will hear.

I reach out but there is no one near.

I laugh, I cry, I grow rabid.

And yet no one is starting to panic.

So when did this happen, this God-forsaken disease?

Tell me, tell me please!

I want-- NO, I need to know.

Because we should be friends not foes.

We tear down each other in our fight for the light,

yet how is this right?

We complain about things not being humane

and yet this we ourselves cannot maintain.

So listen, please do.

We are all each other's glue.

We keep each other alive,

we keep each other sane.

We should protect others from cold and distant pain.

So please put down your hatreds,

and love your rivals.

Because we need each other for our own survival.

And in a moment, I step away from my mirror,

and those hopes and dreams are just so much dimmer.

'Cause I remember that hiding in the shadows,

makes us just that much more hallow.

So let's just remember;

that we are all each other's ember,

each other's dying ember.

You are my soulmate

Come,

share this lifetime with me.