You turned the doorknob
to my hollow existence
plastering my collapsing walls
with clusters of dark verse.
An uninvited guest,
you turned a visit into a vacation,
smirking at the growing crevices in the ceiling
muffled sounds at night
growing into feral screams.
You reveled in turning off the...
You're a star now
Shining in the sky
And illuminating it every day
With your unique personality and wonderful light.
What do you think about it? Is it a poem? Is it good or bad?
I Never Wanted to be Found
I never wanted to be found...
From the very first time you laid eyes on me,
your eyes went wide like you found a pirate’s buried treasure.
I’m still trying to understand the reason behind your affinity.
Your love for me was something that words could not measure.
You dropped everything...
Two things stand out for me in my reading, take them for what they're worth...
1) A bit of contamination from the world of advertisement. The fact that poetry is often written in short sentences doesn't mean that you can write slogans. "The damage has been done" and "Here I stand" sound...
It's by D H Lawrence.
Trees like hands of bone
Pleading to not be crushed
By a looming and ashen expanse
Heavier than false love
A pierce of light through that murky moor
So I fumbled for my muddied glass jar
Blinding and fractured
I saw every color
But it slipped through the glass and the mud
Then the sitting white lie...
Do not always assume a person is good always
It's a Zen koan that has no meaning or answer, and thinking about it gives you satori. The body on fire is like the body's, or the man's, desires are on fire; one of Buddha's comments about the time he was living in.
What are 'sheckles'?
I'm sorry, but this is a nonsensical collection of half-understood words and dodgy syntax.
“For the powerful, crimes are those that others commit.” by Noam Chomsky (applies to all sides)
It's a lot better then other poems I saw here.
Break it up in verses and check the spelling of the words.
Perfectionist in what?
What does a pigment do,
Mechanical as anything can be,
And yet society determines you
Are either black or white or dead and blue,
To leave you just ignored for being black,
And all you own is in a sack?
Don't let the yellow sun go down on you.
Our human ignorance is nothing new;
This world is just illusion...
Writers each work on their own personal conditions. Some are straight, no drugs; others are alcoholics; some are on drugs.