Read Poem: Depression, by Jade Wankhruea

Depression… Is like being in a dark room that you just can’t get out of no matter how hard you try.

No lights
No windows
No doors;
There’s nothing in it but you and dark emptiness
And it’s suffocating.

So cold,
So numb,
Yet it tingles at the same time
Like an electric current running through your body
Waking up motivated one day
And empty the next.

I’d rather die than be stuck in this deep darkness,
I’d rather die than be stuck in this never ending sadness that I call hell!

But if I did that…
Then it would win.

This disease that constantly puts you down,
Tells you you’re not good enough,
And makes the simple task of waking up every morning…
One of the hardest things to accomplish.

It would win…
The never ending battle with your own mind
The constant fight to keep pushing through all the pain-
when the only thing you really want to do is let it take over
It would all be for nothing.

I am not a quitter
This spell that my brain has cast over my body…
It will not be the end of me.

Every day,
The struggle will continue
But I will know that I am a fighter
And I won’t let it win.

Poem: My Panic Life, by Amanda Beyer

Genre: Mental Disorder

 
I am trapped in an eternity of all consuming nothingness silently praying it is a nightmare from which I will soon awake.

What is this, anyway? This life? We wake, we cry, we love, we sleep…but for what purpose? No one person has a true destiny…a true course. No one can be given an answer. We are all one single insignificant spec in this universe. Completely unnecessary. Completely confused. Completely left in the nightmare. The vaccuum of monotony. Life. For what?
 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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A Soul less Existence, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Left alone in the darkness of solitude trapped in her mind cold and desperate scratching around for escape things becoming tragic as all hope was lost in the depths of the void
A mask covered her face as she was being betrayed and manipulated by someone she loved so dearly

Genre: Dark, Depression, and Hurt

A Soul less Existence by Barbara Hunt

Left alone in the darkness of solitude trapped in her mind cold and desperate scratching around for escape things becoming tragic as all hope was lost in the depths of the void
A mask covered her face as she was being betrayed and manipulated by someone she loved so dearly
A witch with a disguise of compassion and love looked back an evil grin plaguing her face
The evil seeped down turning into tentacles as an evil laugh erupted from her lungs as she smelled pure terror
Capturing her the darkness licked at her heels casting away all hope and love slowly leaving behind a shell of who she once was
As she took her last breath her pure soul stolen she warned the people she loved of its true colors and closed her eyes embraced by the warmth of peace

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My Life Tumbled and I Fell, Poetry by A.Goomer

When you lose someone you love, it’s hard to be strong,
When you lose that connection and bond it’s hard to go on.

You find yourself at the depths unable to cope,
You don’t have the strength to look ahead for any hope.

Holding on to every piece of them you have,
How could you leave me Dad?

Genre: family, depression, suicide, grief, loss, inspirational, hope

My Life Tumbled and I Fell by A.Goomer

When you lose someone you love, it’s hard to be strong,
When you lose that connection and bond it’s hard to go on.

You find yourself at the depths unable to cope,
You don’t have the strength to look ahead for any hope.

Holding on to every piece of them you have,
How could you leave me Dad?

The death of someone close to you makes you think,
Maybe life isn’t all rosy and pink.

How can this be happening? What am I going to do?
Will I forever feel lost, alone and blue?

They say time can heal a broken heart,
It gets better, but some days it pulls apart.

Feeling left behind is a horrible feeling,
A lot of nights are left staring at the ceiling.

When tragedy strikes, you see things in a new light,
Life doesn’t seem so bright.

Focus on your happiness with the family and friends you chose,
The sad days will lessen along with your all-time lows.

We must pick ourselves up and live with the living,
These ghosts we see are not giving.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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Family Destruction, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

She stared at it a carbon copy of herself stared back smiling exposing it’s horrible jagged teeth and a dead expression

Genre: Dark, Depression, Scary, and Family

Family Destruction
by Barbara Hunt

Dark and sinister it was as it stared down at her a devilish smile played on its lips as amusement raised in its eyes

She stared at it a carbon copy of herself stared back smiling exposing it’s horrible jagged teeth and a dead expression

This monster was of the worst in nature and as she stared at it she became cornered as it pulled her down into the depths of the underworld
Sealing her fate as no cries would ever be heard she closed her eyes delving further into the abyss she uttered it’s name in the eternal silence mourning the loss of peace

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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The Fear I Hate, Poetry by Alayah Esotera

Shivers race up my spine
Mouth dry, Fear runs high
What Darkness here, what presence doth cause me so much Fear
I cannot say, I won’t!
This is not meant to be known

Genre: Anxiety & Depression

The Fear I Hate
by Alayah Esotera

Unusually quiet, no familiar sounds, not a soul around
Just dead silence, it hangs over me like a white sheet upon the deceased
The fog hangs low, the air is dense, nothing now is making sense
I wondered, what is this dead of night, Darkest hour, lowest light
What is this dead of night, this dead of night causing my Soul to blight
No hope, no will, just frozen silence
Shivers race up my spine
Mouth dry, Fear runs high
What Darkness here, what presence doth cause me so much Fear
I cannot say, I won’t!
This is not meant to be known
I feel it rising once again, I feel the presence in my head
Stop I say, Stop I yell! Is this to be my eternal Hell
My Hell on Earth, my lonesome self, my failed Worth
What now shall become of me
If I run, am I really free? Free from this madness, free from me
No. I won’t go. I shall stay deep inside my troubled brain
For if not for my mind, where would I be
It’s what keeps me safe from me
The fear I loathe, the fear I hate, the fear that makes me feel this way
Consumed by feelings dark & cold, lonely, slowly getting old
Fear of people, fear of fate, fear of all the things I hate
Depressed, ashamed, so much pain, So much lost with nothing gained
Will this ever go away…
No, it is here to stay.

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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To love a life, Poetry by Christopher Hughes

Eccentric maybe…but I know that I’m in love but my demons they torture me. My Love. Have you ever closed your eyes and just pictured bliss. Or even better yet dear love; closed your eyes and seen shear terror amidst your bliss? To love unconditionally, my soul? My dear and sweet heart. My soul tear at me, yet I can not find the person to fill my void. I’m trying to love myself. But where can this love come from if it has literally died and dried up from my life.

Genres: Love and depression

To love a life
by Christopher Hughes

My Love? How dare I address you so?

Or maybe I’m the crazy one…

Eccentric maybe…but I know that I’m in love but my demons they torture me. My Love. Have you ever closed your eyes and just pictured bliss. Or even better yet dear love; closed your eyes and seen shear terror amidst your bliss? To love unconditionally, my soul? My dear and sweet heart. My soul tear at me, yet I can not find the person to fill my void. I’m trying to love myself. But where can this love come from if it has literally died and dried up from my life.

It’s quite painstaking…to say the very least. Your soul has left your body and yet what do you do?? Your yesterdays are gone. You can’t take them back. Your heart yearns and begs forgiveness yet you never get any. Do you really deserve forgiveness? Or should you just continue to beg?

I try to keep my head high and be hopeful, but finding a love and losing it is a hard one.

What is love?

To me it means this: Giving yourself unconditionally to someone and despite their faults and failures…you accept them unconditionally. Yet I have failed the ultimate sin of infidelity. Oh my heart and soul…how you torment me.

First we must dig within ourselves to love ourselves.

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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39 WORDS, Poetry by Josslyn Rae Turner

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

Genre: Dark, Depression

 

39 Words

By

Josslyn Rae Turner  

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

abuse bully hate destroy

darkness deep hell within

struggle

no

more

END

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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MISERY’S DISPENSARY, Poem by Nick Meridionale

emotions have always meant the most to me
I mean, really
do you think there’s anything in life
not worth feeling?
words slither through our skin
and enter our bodies
like my brain emits T.H.C. ;

Genre: depression, addiction, sad, suicidal, dark, drugs, confused, empty, bitter

Misery’s Dispensary
by Nick Meridionale

emotions have always meant the most to me
I mean, really
do you think there’s anything in life
not worth feeling?
words slither through our skin
and enter our bodies
like my brain emits T.H.C. ;

T.
H.
C.

this
head
can’t
take
hell’s
campaign;
the
hanging
chord,
the
hop
from the chair
this. head. can’t. take! hell’s campaign!
the hanging chord, the hop from the chair…
the hanging corpse!

common symptoms include:
blotched eyes and dry sweat
depending on what high you’re aiming for;
joy or sadness
I cough and I choke,
trying to fill my lungs
up the most,
but my throat becomes a waterfall
layered out in smoke
and I ponder if my mother will witness
my ghost
after she lowers my body into an eternal and
earthy comatose.

I think the most miserable types of people
are one’s whose bodies have become
empty and dried up rivers
where even dead fish can’t deliver
satisfaction to the bellies of vultures
our hearts can’t get
accepted by society’s norms or cultures
we are different types of people
who feel much deeper than others
we hear words heavily,
and we listen with keen ears

so I had my first high
and suddenly
my empathy was at an all time high,
I was able to see my
own desires and dreams
physically by my side
and I could smell the future’s meadow
but after a few hours
I returned to my past’s shadow

now that I’ve had my last hit
it’s hard for me to feel it;
the emotion.
the passion.
I’ve fallen in love with the fashion
that withdrawal dresses me in
instead of clothes I wear my skeletons!

“save that hit for
a rainy day.
and if your head
feels like a hurricane
then take as many as you may.
if your vice keeps you dreaming
at least it mutes the sounds
of your demons screaming.”

lately I’ve been stuck in my creative ocean
I used to row a boat and feel the motion
of the waves;
typing words down on a cracked phone screen
just to feel solace
under the hot summer sun
but I’ve lost a paddle,
I’ve broken a few wings

so when these sharks circle me
and they start to sing
I fear that I may die.
I feel death in my tiny stone soul
consuming my heart
and continuing to grow;
so when the sun screams at me
and my skin starts to crow
I long for the colder climates
of the coffins down below

I love feelings
I love feeling sad, even miserable
I love feeling happy and joyous
jubilance is a fruitfulness that I rarely emit
and morbidity has scrutiny when it fishes
for the bigger catches inside of me
once the sun dries me up, and
depression devours all that I have to give,
my river will become the trench
that murderers bury the victims
they deemed unworthy to live

my soil can’t decay, it actually
grows wealthy at the taste of lifeless skin
I kiss the corpses of young women and children
to feel a sustenance
that beautiful women
and children’s eyes
once poured into my soul,
I once held an abundance of substance
now I’m a bag of blood,
abusing myself by using substances.
I’m a bag of bones
amusing others, swearing I know what substance is…

but as the days go on,
and the sun’s volumes become more and more immense
I will decay and feast on whatever
the devil can dispense
this sobriety is painfully subsiding,
it’s fastening the blade to my wrists
how many cadavers does a dying man have to kiss,
to confirm he has a pulse,
and swear he’s not one of them?

(n.j.m.)

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counting bricks, Poetry by lee pettengell

sitting in this cell of mine counting bricks to pass the time

800 and 9 or was it 10 shit ill have to start again
paced the floor a 1000 times from the bed to the chair
just aint getting any were
out the window freedom calls
across the yard over the walls

Genre: Prison, Depression, Loneliness

counting bricks

by lee pettengell

sitting in this cell of mine counting bricks to pass the time

800 and 9 or was it 10 shit ill  have to start again
paced the floor a 1000 times from the bed to the chair
 just aint getting any were
out the window freedom calls
across the yard over the walls
but the bars i cannote budge
freedoms there but out of touch
so its back to counting bricks again wish i could stop this silly game
but its that or think of you like i always seem to do

 

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