His interest are no longer my interest.
Now this love that went on for so long has now become distant,
or should I say it’s the distance thats making my heart wonder .
They say shit like this makes the heart grow fonder. When he is around, all we do is bicker.
Genre: Relationship, Love
Forgiveness
by Sherille Williams
His interest are no longer my interest.
Now this love that went on for so long has now become distant,
or should I say it’s the distance thats making my heart wonder .
They say shit like this makes the heart grow fonder. When he is around, all we do is bicker.
His outlook on life is not the same when he first met me.
He cheated, which means all his morals and respect for me depleted my standards of what a real man wouldn’t do.
This made my heart bleed, because I thought I was his flower and seed, a seed that grew o’ so happily. Since then it’s been all backwards bends on my end.
All my deepest feelings are now complaints, and all his dreams is what he sees to succeed.
I mean, time and time again
I daydream of him being my husband.
My love for him runs so deep even
my G-spot senses him before he turns the corner.
Then, reality snaps me back and I recognize it’s just hopeful love that I’m fucking stuck in.
Holding on days he will change and maybe I can do the same.
Now, it’s not at all his fault because at times my emotions take me over the edge. I become weak and a bit needy instead. Give him head so he can forget the argument we just had.
Then I’m still fucking empty.
He never held me when I cried,
I just wanted a bit more attention and for him to stop thinking money will be by his side when he’s dead.
NO!
It’s not the bills, it’s his wife that will be there because once he dies I will too.
See my mind is misleading into thinking
everyone should love like me.
Now, statistically that extremely rare to find.
You know; the kind of spouse that sees things before it happens and that women’s intuition that never steers a man wrong.
A good women will make you shiver even after you bust a nut, making him wanting to kiss me on the forehead asking if I can hold him instead.
I hope one day this love theory of mine will come alive.
Yet its my fault, because I’m telling the story to all my family and friends of how much he’s hurt me, but I’m still with him in the end.
I love him and if forgiving includes spitting some poetry to mend
my heart then I guess this is where the true forgiveness starts.
He stays focused on his mind
Imagining a place you’ll never find
He got his pen
And wrote his note
A poem for a person he once fought
Genre: Sad, Hurt
The Silent Warrior
by Maj Excel Escanlar
He stays focused on his mind
Imagining a place you’ll never find
He got his pen
And wrote his note
A poem for a person he once fought
This poet wrote for a special one
And she just made him out of fun
She’d just taken for granted
His love and effort
Then with his own will
She ran
He told others after that
What he’d been through
He was shocked
With words of wisdom came from his mouth
He now tell tales of hatred
As long as north reached the south
He didn’t try to hurt her
Or cursed the people who likes her
All he did was beg for her to go back
Too bad her pride was high as a garbage truck
He failed
He was pitied
All he had was a pen
A note
Or a typing machine
To express his feelings
No care
No effort
No one will be hurt
He thought
So He write
He cry
While tears on the paper dry
He’s fighting the memories
On his face
You can’t see any bliss.
And what, we ask ourselves to pick up the pieces because perfection is a picture not yet
attainable by protection.
We’re begged to let our hearts guards down, in some twisted attempt to let another in and board
up the damage found,
to take our hearts and bend the rules,
to look over pain, to not become bitter fools.
They’ll always ask “is everything okay”,
and you’ll sit there lying with grimace,
Genre: Love, Relationship
Dearly Beloved
by Marquis Green
And what, we ask ourselves to pick up the pieces because perfection is a picture not yet
attainable by protection.
We’re begged to let our hearts guards down, in some twisted attempt to let another in and board
up the damage found,
to take our hearts and bend the rules,
to look over pain, to not become bitter fools.
They’ll always ask “is everything okay”,
and you’ll sit there lying with grimace,
as you flimsily make your way out of each encounter forgetting each time to put yourself
together again, and your mind claws at its walls,
are we making the same mistakes again,
could we have found love again, and I’ll make my heart stand aside,
and ask if you could abide by my crazy demands,
because for some silly reason, my hearts demand is happiness.
We forgot what it was like to not know perfection but find it in each other,
and we started to learn how to live with regret,
and the burdens became heavier to hold,
still they became easier when we were together.
I met you on the side of a back alley in Calcutta,
and you met me for the first time as the dealer kept an ace under his sleeve to give Chris his
advantage. Don’t we all want that sunrise story,
that perfect encounter?
And yet everyone still looks down on my dearly beloved,
forced to hide feeling for ambition, as a hold of depression takes over and becomes her position,
her condition is worsened by the hate she keeps inside for herself.
I knew it,
I saw the signs.
I felt it, I wore the scars.
And I see everything and everyone pass you by, and all I know is that you’re running out of time.
Sympathy takes my emotion,
and my soul becomes a commotion,
gathering steam in an attempt to drown your sorrow,
and murder becomes the answer, and the mirror reveals all my horror.
Pain is gone. And we, as now one, can rejoice in the celebration that you are never alone.
And yet, you’re ready to let that go and I’m ready to let you go.
Was it a mistake, each moment that drives our abuse, each dose that douses our hopes, however
loose our bonds to dreams are, and happiness is never far.
And what will tomorrow bring?
Every new sound to hammer hope into a broken commitment will leave me without grounding,
and I’ll be left for dead at a destroyed altar,
and I’ve heard it all, found alone,
and all the walls marked with the words
to know life goes on, and that we will have the strength to move on.
And what did you find in me?
Some distorted truth, pinpointed poison
lies that helped you realize nothing’s perfect,
and the only time everything was normal was in this young love’s youth.
I feel it too.
I write this to you, my dearly beloved.
For the house we made has burned to the ground, but these bricks still stand.
Each picture depicts a crime scene, for we are all thieves now,
for stealing these moments from ones that we truly need.
For each person that took a part of you, I am sorry.
For each person who maimed your soul, I still worry.
For each ring that becomes a mirror into you, I am sorry.
Dearly beloved.
Today is 20 years ago.
17 we met.
3 we loved.
A lifetime, we knew.
Today,
we
grieve.
but bitter
more bitter
a keepin abstence
well said from who looks
shiping the simple silence to burning words
a pray
Genre: Life, People, Society
POETRY
by Caiubi
but bitter
more bitter
a keepin abstence
well said from who looks
shiping the simple silence to burning words
a pray
a flame as an answer to the world
mute river
deaf move
inert stone
the matters is the poem
imperious hand in a missin work
brings to incandescent spirity
and all call thought incinerated act
water throught abort a will
to you
to everything
to a glorious achivements that only one can do
this poem
gathering mountain of shame
waiting to raise a mirror hand
and nothing
suspect of amnesia
lying absorved
desperade
…
don’t be afraid
play an end
blink love
crimson leaf
Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest
Genre: Life, Society
Plastic Limitations
by Maka Nyingwa
Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest
A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:
Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.
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