Poems And Poetry - Blog Posts

Cogito, Ergo Sum

I write ugly things.

That’s who I am.

I expel the bad onto paper.

Otherwise it gets stuck in me. Emotional constipation.

That’s probably why people hurt each other.

They need to get rid of it. The ache.

Can’t keep it in. Easiest way to get rid of hurt is to pass it onto someone else.

Most readers like it though. The hurt.

Look at Bukowski and Hemingway. They’re successful. Apart from the alcoholism and suicide.

I don’t understand them all that well.

You’re too young to understand, they tell me.

I don’t know about that.

I think I just don’t understand men who create their own suffering.

I’ve had enough pain. Disease and dead friends and all that.

Good thing for a writer though. To suffer.

Suffering brings validity to narrative.

I hate that.

I hate that perspective only matters if the writer has gone through something horrible.

Suffering adds to character. Solidifies it.

I also hate that.

Identity should not be so fickle.

It should be made of curiosity, interests, relationships, passion, and peace.

It should be made, fostered, cared for.

Not victimized.

But maybe that’s just the way we are.

We must rot so that others will salvage our blossoms.

We must dish out counterfeit pain to remember we are alive.

Mortal.

Look at me, you say, beaten red.

I bleed therefore I am.

Rabid

I often think I an rabid.

My heart races,

my eyes dart

my hands tremble.

My teeth ache

to dig into

your shoulder

My nails score

lines in your

hip cradle

You coon and stroke my hair

You kiss my bloody lips

You hold my stained hands.

Waking up

feels like

walking in syrup.

You've moved on

My teeth are dull.

I love this poem so much

Def not morbid poem

Can one tell I got depression? I don't think so...

False Guilt

It’s easier to think,

That you are a monster born broken,

Rather than a human made flawed.

A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)

A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat

A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one

A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy

The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in

The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel

The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape

The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart

As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies

The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”

The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”

An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling

A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling

The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more

They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t

It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir

An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet

Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed

They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin

Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran

But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands

The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars

Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still

That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith

But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find

That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious

Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come

As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt

But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone

There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again

But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.

Hair all tangled this morning - Shall I smooth it With spring rain Dripping form the jet-black Wings of swallows?

- Yosano Akiko, “Tangled Hair: Selected Tanka from Midaregami”

oh my goodness this is wonderful. made me shed a tear

Letting Time Pass

I basked in golden sunlight

Somewhere, somehow, somewhen

I remembered that the sun

Will never shine on you again

I stepped into the shadow

Of an old, familiar tree

I remembered I'm as close to you

As I will ever be

I gazed upon a memory

I searched it for a sign

I saw that you weren't in it

And I knew it wasn't mine

The future lies before me

But beyond a pane of glass

Until this pain forsakes me

I'll be here, letting time pass

@alicia-poetry

I can tolerate the discomfort that comes from not being liked by others.

What I cannot tolerate is living out of alignment with my values and staying silent about things I care about just to make sure others like me.

“So to you who has flown so high.”

“Do you think you can take to the sky?”

“Once more in our time of need.”

“Please be the hero that rides the winds!”

Ok I was just chilling in my bed when my brain came up with this piece of poetry

In a sea filled with chaos and uncertainty are you a continent? A land that’s known to many, always there for others to lean on for security and a sense of safety.

Or are you an island? A small paradise known only to a few, however those that know you feel safe and secure in your presence.

Or are you just another boat on the sea searching for a continent or island to call your own.

I’m not a poet I’ve never come up with any sort of poetry before but I think this is beautiful!

stop haunting me in the night, putting your hand on my shoulder, quietly telling me to wait for you silently in the dark, when i know in myself already that you won’t come back

Ginger bread bathtub

A friend once asked me for a sign

That the universe loved us.

I told her I had taken a bath today.

The water was green and the perfect temperature

The sky was darkening and the light was on

The room smelled like the ginger bread I had brought from the kitchen

Mixed with the eucalyptus of my bath oil.

A song played

It reminded me of a home we moved out of when I was eight.

It reminded me of my nanny teaching me how to paint my nails when my parents left the house

I would sit on a bar stool

My toes would barely brush the ground.

Oh, the universe loves us

The bath water was the perfect temperature today.

Studiekeuze

Daarvoor was ik uitgesneden

Het meesterwerk

Dat elke grens mijn zijn bevat

Talent vult de oppervlakte

Maar wat met de houtschilfers

Het genadeloze lemmet

De verdoemdde onbestaandheid

Uit welke grootse toekomts ben ik

Uit-

Weg-

Gesneden

Zelfs al zou realisatie mij wonderen

Materiaal blijft onveranderbaar

Bloed loopt tegendraads

En tegen zwaartekracht

Maar niet tegen de grens die het

lemmet schiep

Niet tegen het sneed

De oppervlakte

Het schild

Vastgebeiteld met mij

En al mijn "talent"

Maar

Ze zei nee.

Ze geloofde niet in magie

Zei ze

Dat zo'n dingen enkel in

Sprookjes

Gebeuren.

We maakten

Zonder haar

Geen schijn van kans

Ten ondergaan

Klinkt zo heroïsch

Dit was inderdaad geen

Sprookje

In sprookjes

Wordt er niet

Verloren.

Haar achterhoofd zat te vol

Het achtervolgde haar

Het kwam altijd te laat

Achteraanhuppelend

Een kleine vertraging op het

Instinctief gedrag

Ze was niet dom

Hield niet van risico's

Die milliseconde vertraging

Was haar te veel

Ze zag het niet

Voorrang van rechts

En nu is haar achterhoofd weg

Ik wil mijn besmette bloed leegbloeden

Mijn depressieve tranen uitwenen

Mijn slechte conditie wegzweten

Mijn onzuivere gedachten uitroepen

Tot ik

Niet vanbinnen stik

Maar

Vanbuiten verdrink

I will always believe in aliens.

Even when they don’t believe in themself

And here comes another poem.

Here's the other poem I wrote for my black history school assembly.

 Unforgettable

We will never forget our brothers,

Malcolm, Martin, and Medger.

And we will never disregard our sisters,

Fannie, Shirley, and Ruby.

We will not forget the anger and hate that was thrust upon Rodney and Emmett.

We will remember the strength of Mamie Till to show the world what happened to her boy.

We will remember Rodney asking the Nation, ”Can we get along?”

We won’t forget the bravery of the Little Rock Nine or the patience of the Greensboro Four.

We will remember the boycotts and the protests,

Along with the dogs and water hoses.

We will not forget the people from the past,

Who wouldn’t give up and fought for their rights. For even those who were not in the spotlight,

Still shine like diamonds.

For they showed courage and determination,

In a time of fear and discrimination.

So let us never erase these people from our memory,

For each and every one of them is unforgettable.

Here's Another Poem I wrote

This is one of the two poems that I wrote this year for a black history assembly at my school.

Blind

Can’t see it.

Can’t feel it.

Can’t recognize it.

You’re blind.

You turn away from the struggle of others.

You won’t hear about the injustice.

You pretend it’s all in the past.

You’re blind.

Don’t act like isn’t here.

Don’t act like it isn’t there.

Don’t make-believe it's all gone away.

Don’t look away from all the pain.

Your guilt is telling you to turn away.

Your fear is making you hateful.

Your hate is turning you violent.

Your ignorance has made you blind.

God taps the window of your cubicle, shaking your enclosure, wondering why its creation is so sad.

It is not the god that you worship. It is the one that is here, it is the one that made you. It is your mother glancing worriedly at her phone. It is your father staring at your old bike. It is your friends wondering why you have been so quiet. It is that part of you that looked at the world with wonder, but has been hidden for so long.

"Get back to work" the beast says, "You want to eat don't you?"

You tune the tapping out, and serve your "betters". Just as you do every day. Just the same as the poor creatures around you.

...

The Beast scratches at your phone, vying for your attention, wondering why its servant is absent.

It is not the beast that hunts you. It is the one that is a true threat, it is the one that already has you trapped. It is the one that sells away your health. It is the one that extorts your hunger. It is the one that wrings you dry. It is the one that told you your wonder is "frivolous".

"What's wrong?" god says, "Would another pretzel bite help?"

You ignore the scratching, and hold god in your hand. Just as you do whenever you can. Just the same as the poor creatures around you.

december 7, 2024 — childhood dwellings

the leaves have turned brown

the world has quieted down

icy winds seep through our fingers

biting cold that sleeps and lingers

that weightless checkered blanket

wilted flowers basking in the sunset

that empty swing swaying

childish laughter keeps ringing

we cried and laughed

through times dark or daft

all good things come and go

naive promises of "i love you so"

as we carved our names in the rough bark

and vowed to protect eachother's heart

your arms became a home

and i became your own

even as time is not as forgiving

as when we were kids and simply living

the sea will guide us to our fated shores

tides sweeping sands of long-past wars

as the stars witness our beginning and end

the best in the world, my only friend

those handheld cracks in the tree

will always know it was you and me

- reddestofscarves, 1:28pm

november 7, 2024 — love of mine

you know i'd love to stay the same

you know there's nothing left to say

neither of us stand at fault

yet this is the price we pay

maybe in another life

we wouldn't have this strife

free from the guilt

and yearnings fullfilled

you deserve someone who'll stay

through the good and the bad

and i'm sorry it couldn't be me

despite what we had

but i deserve someone too

to make the long run with me

not run me through

happy to love all i'm yet to be

no, you don't need me

if you did, i would not have scars

no, you aren't sorry

if you were, i wouldn't have to count

i think it's time to face our truth

heal and forgive what remains of our youth

yes, i loved you

but no love of mine will heal you

— reddestofscarves, 7:31pm

Hello, I hope you are well🌹

I am Hazem Mahmoud Hamada, 44 years old, a Palestinian man, from Gaza. I am seeking to save my family of 6 members from the hell of war by moving to a safe place until the ugly war ends.Our suffering began on October 14, 2023, when my family was forcibly displaced from north to south in a life- threatening situation. As a result, our homes were completely destroyed and demolished, and thus our business went to waste. There was nothing left as a source of livelihood. There are no shelters to shelter us or a source of livelihood to live on.

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july 12, 2024—10 years and forever

you're making dinner, i'm sat on the counter

with my quiet music playing on the speaker

wet hair sticking to my neck and i'm talking about my day

you wait for me to finish and i'll wait for you to say

little quips and jokes with a quiet smile

i stare while you laugh for a little while

the hot pot steams and i get the plates

you plate the food and i sit and wait

sprinkling soda fizz and dim-lit rooms

our stained couch with bass-powered booms

really shitty movie, the bright tv display

i laugh as you squint your eyes in dismay

you fall asleep and i wash the dishes

ten years ago, dreams were only wishes

ten years from now, we'll earn riches

right now, we heal from our stitches

the house is small and the table is too

my heart feels home, right here with you

i'll tell you a secret, just between us two

for the rest of my life, i'll keep loving you

— reddestofscarves, 2:30am

april 20, 2024 — secret garden language

im in the hospital in a waiting room

my thighs are sweating, the air hot and stuffy

its too early in the morning to feel like noon

thoughts of you are the only thing keeping me steady

my music flows smokey, the album's nice

messy poetry, paradox hearts & minds

weeds on my back, sick of putting you first

its ok to love him more, my heart's seen worse

i hope the 6 year old garden was fun

the fruits of your seed and spring has begun

so for the first time in forever

abatinas and cyclamens bloom in my weather

and when winter comes, what will you do?

will another bloodthirsty creature welcome you too?

will you drain them of life and trick them like a fool?

goodluck on the run, my laugh's one haunting ghoul

— reddestofscarves, 11:00 pm.

april 6, 2024 — situationship

are we still friends?

were we more?

when all that's begun has come an end

will everything be back to the way it was before?

and my soul hates everything about you

doesn't mean my heart can't miss you

so when you're gone and i'm through

i'll pretend to move on too

oh, brought to a stop and then what?

i'm faced with a paradoxical thought

childhood memories are soulful wealth

how do i tune silence out with itself?

but i knew it then, it was our last day

see it in your eyes, "sorry it had to end today"

i shake my head, smile wide and say

"it's okay, no hard feelings anyway"

despite everything back then

when i pick up my paper and pen

my mind drifts to you, sweetest bullet bitten

and i'll write the messages i can't send

— reddestofscarves, 1:20pm

april 1, 2024 — luna

oh, luna, tell me so

do you love me enough to let me go?

if you're the moon and i'm the sun

don't you think i'm better off alone?

oh, luna, i'm not the only star you'll find

rigil's brighter and toliman's one of a kind

being good is different from perfect

don't settle, consider every aspect

when i said you were the best thing to happen to me

i actually meant that only you ever stole my need to be free

oh, luna, i hope you'll understand

that going with you is to forget me

but being me won't stop my heart

from knowing we were written in the stars

and how i loved you from the start

always and forever, from here and afar

— reddestofscarves, 4:05 pm

march 29, 2024 — not enough

the shower i took tonight was cold

thought of the words you said the other day

the way you said it still makes me fold

you felt what i did, had no more to say

i don't like thinking about it much

easily makes me cry and such

i know the years are good enough

but you know you can't blame me for not acting tough

and i'd like to teach this one day

making the most of something means

you'll never get enough of it

so bittersweet feeling this way

you're always gonna miss every little bit

and i hope that in another reality

we'd never have to live through calamity

palms could breathe without fatality

and you'd smile without the distance i see

— reddestofscarves, 11:46pm

febuary 17, 2024 — just for tonight

my curtains are closed

writing down poems i could compose

the music is slow, we're going with the flow

and i can't help but ask "what are you thinking?"

"nothing," you say, but i know things aren't easy that way

but i'll let it be, i can wait, it's okay

we don't have to talk about it

as long as you stay, we can forget about it

sometimes i still get sick

anxiety's a blood sucking tick

i say something stupid and you say life's a dick

and for a month, we'll do anything but stick

so tired of trying to be

trying to get make it in life just to be free

feeling and fearing things we can't see

why can't we be just you and me?

but until then, i'll let the silence envelop

the noise outside makes your ears swell up

so we'll make a place to dry your tears

and even just for tonight, you can let go of your fears

— reddestofscarves, 8:10 pm