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The Lie~ Poetry

I said the words

You needed them

I told her

"I love you"

I didn’t mean it

I said it anyway

Just a shadow

Playing lover

Lost in a half night

And I knew

When the morning came

I’d have to live with the lie

~ Ryan

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Horns ~ Poetry

Hell hath no fury like mine

Because hell hath no fury

Like a woman scorn

But hell hath no fury like a woman with horns

I bought a deadly dose

Enough to kill 1000 men

Prepared on a spoon and flame

Ready to serve him

I was prepared to kill my husband

Before he jumped another broom again

Still

I drag him through the mud

Ignoring his distress and cries

With a torch to his heart

I bathe in his whine

I sipped from his vital organ

That he poured into mine

Until his remains were nothing

But skull and spine

Needle to substance

Substance lodged and combined

Needle to skin

How could I miss

Needle to vein

Insert and push

Needle in vein

Syringe is drained

For a flower to live

Nothing has to die

But for a parasite to survive

A host has to die

Honey is sweet

It doesn’t go bitter over time

I’ll contaminate the purest heart

Just to compensate mine

But hell hath no fury like mine

Because hell hath no fury

Like a woman scorn

But hell hath no fury like a woman with horns

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Crush ~ Poetry

Your laugh

A spark

In the quiet corners

Of my day

I pretend not to look

But I’m always

Looking

~ Ryan

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Bad Egg~ Poetry

In a garden where tulips rot in bloom

And pastel skies drip ash and gloom

Comes the

Thump!

Thump!!

Thump!!!

Of paws too wide

Dragging shadows where secrets hide

Don’t look for candy don’t seek the prize

He’s painting blood at early rise

A twitch of nose a glint of claw

A mouth that splits with jagged jaws

He’s not the bunny from sweet kid dreams

He gnaws through lies and silent screams

Once every year he leaves his den

To hunt the sinners dressed as men

He sniffs for guilt beneath the grass

The broken vows the shattered glass

He sees the ones who cheat and steal

The ones who laugh while others kneel

His basket’s woven with sharpened wire

His tail’s a wick set slow to fire

You might still run but not for long

He’s fast and fueled by every wrong

So if you lied or hurt or strayed

He’s coming

Smiling

Eggs freshly flayed

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Fallen Star ~ Poetry

Once they burned so fierce so high

Silver sparks across the night sky

Whispers spun in cosmic light

Dancing flames against the night

But even stars must lose their place

Fade from heaven’s warm embrace

Gravity calls and down they glide

Silent streaks on sorrow’s tide

Wishes cast and dreams once bright

Fall like embers lost to night

Golden dust on midnight air

Vanishing as never there

Though they fall their glow remains

Etched in hearts like silver chains

For every star that leaves the skies

A dream is born in someone’s eyes

And now amongst the dust and stone

A fallen star lie alone

Not lost not gone but somewhere new

For in the end the star was you

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Poetry ❤️

Poetry Night

I arrive at the venue

No one is sat outside, which is rather strange for this place

So I open the door and walk in,

find a spot to stand and have a brief look around, a few familiar faces in the crowd

Next it's up to the counter to order a wine and a get a tumbler of water

I'm driving, so being sensible

But before that can happen it's hugs and welcome for the owner,

He doesn't do handshakes, hugs suit him better and the place

Wine and water in hand I look for a spot to sit,

Ideally somewhere to place my drinks and have easy access to get up and out for when It's my turn,

I'd hate to have to sidle past a few people that would be so annoying for them and for me.

It's 7:05pm, no sign of starting yet,

The construct of time doesn't hold true in this place, never has, we start when it feels right

So time to mingle, a few new faces, people I don't know, but here, no one is ever a stranger for long

7:45 and it's time to start,

Up steps the host, housekeeping first, the do’s and don'ts, what's and wherefores and then the poetry begins.

A hushed silence fills the room,

I sit and listen, attentively, to the words and the context

Sometimes I close my eyes, it has me connect more, some may think I look pretentious, I don't care.

As each poem is read you can feel the energy and emotion rising, it's palpable.

Some make me laugh, some bring a lump to the throat, some make my heart pound and others a tear to my eye, it's raw, powerful emotion in its purest form

Time for a break,

the energy rises once more

There's a hubbub as people talk amongst themselves

Some mingle inside, others outside with their little white sticks taking in the “fresh air”

After an long 15min break, there goes that construct of time again, it's my turn.

A sip of wine and up I get, walking to the front, do I microphone or not?

I go for not, stood behind a mic stand seems a metaphorical barrier between me and those there to listen,

So I stand to the side, ready to project as I used to on the stage or in the classroom

My time comes and goes,

I take my seat and have a drink from my glass and breath a relaxing sigh,

On to the next…

I always try to stay to the end, out of respect for those who've had to listen to me and not yet had their turn.

Eventually the night is over, usually around 10pm

The energy and atmosphere is still electric

It makes me feel alive and most certainly emotional.

I linger around a little more, listening to the conversations.

Speaking to strangers who've become acquaintances over the period of the night

Finally it's time to leave,

More hugs, less hand shakes,

I say my goodbyes and walk to the car.

I turn the radio off and just listen to some of the words and phrases from the night as they go round inside my head, and feel the emotions once more.

The drive home always seems otherworldly, like an outer body experience;

How did I get here so fast,

I don't remember driving along there,

Did I miss any red lights?

Finally I'm back home, everyone else is upstairs but I'm still full of energy and emotion

I feel far too wired to go to bed so I sit downstairs, alone, no TV, just the glow of the lamp

Feeling the energy subside, reflecting on what has been…Poetry Night

AnotherTortured-Poet, © 2025

This is a retrospective piece on a poetry night I recently attended, not exactly poetry but still my spilled words and original content

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Fallen Star 🌟 ~ Poetry

Once they burned so fierce so high

Silver sparks across the sky

Whispers spun in cosmic light

Dancing flames against the night

But even stars must lose their place

Fade from heaven’s warm embrace

Gravity calls and down they glide

Silent streaks on sorrow’s tide

Wishes cast and dreams once bright

Fall like embers lost to night

Golden dust on midnight air

Vanishing as never there

Yet though they fall their glow remains

Etched in hearts like silver chains

For every star that leaves the skies

A dream is born in someone’s eyes

And now among the dust and stone

A fallen star lie left alone

Not lost not gone but somewhere new

For in the end the star was you

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The Táltos’ Lament ~ Poetry

Through mist and dream I call your name

A love untouched by time or flame

I saw you once in visions deep

A soul I knew but could not keep

The stars foretold your whispered sigh

A fleeting shadow passing by

I roamed through forests fields and streams

Chasing echoes

Chasing dreams

The wind would speak in tones so true

I felt the breath leaving you

I danced with storms I bent the sky

Yet fate was deaf to all my cries

No magic strong no spell so grand

Could place your heart within my hand

And so I wander lone and free

Bound by love you’ll never see

A táltos cursed a soul half set

To love a heart I’ve never met

Inspired by season 2 of the Mayfair Witches on AMC+

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Whispers of Pages ~ Poetry

Pages whisper soft and light

Guiding minds through day and night

Worlds unfold in ink and rhyme

Stretching past the bounds of time

Bound in leather cloth or thread

Stories live throughout my head

Turn the page a door swings wide

Adventure love with dreams inside

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"Being woke" originally meant being aware of social injustices, particularly around race, inequality, and discrimination. It comes from African American Vernacular English (AAVE) and was popularized in activism circles to encourage vigilance against systemic oppression.

Over time, the term has been politicized. Some people use it positively, as a call for social progress and awareness. Others use it negatively, seeing it as excessive political correctness or performative activism.

Ultimately, whether "being woke" is seen as good or bad depends on perspective. If it means being aware and compassionate toward social issues, that can be positive. If it becomes rigid or divisive, it can be counterproductive. It all depends on how it’s applied.

The question is, how "Woke" are you?

Being Woke...

Being woke is a term 

certain people see as negative, 

but to me it is the opposite,

being woke is a positive,

The definition states

that woke means the following:

“being aware and attentive

to important facts and issues, 

especially those related 

to race and social justice.”

If that's the definition, 

then being woke is not a slur, 

it proves that you are human,

it proves that you care

In a world full of hate

being woke is what will save us,

for i’d rather be woke,

than some hateful, right-wing, bigot  

Being woke is a term 

certain people see as negative,

but it's time to change the narrative,

being woke should be a positive!

AnotherTortured-Poet, © 2025

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Spiritually enlightening, I do welcome in this new season and meditate on many things known only to my creator and my own heart.

❤️🧘‍♀️❤️

Ostara / Spring Equinox / Sabbat - Solitary Ritual Guide

Place spring flowers on the altar along with anything else you deem fit for this time.  

Eg: Earth, Air, Fire, Water / God/Goddess figures / personal things etc 

Place the appropriate element at each of the four points: North (earth), smoking incense at the East (air), a candle at the South (fire), and a bowl filled with water at the West (water). 

light the candles and incense, Recite your chosen Blessing/chant and invoke your Goddess and God. 

Stand before the altar and gaze upon the plant as you say:

Hail Mother Earth/Green lady, the chains of your wintry prison have fallen away.

Now is the greening, when the delicate scent of flowers drifts on the breeze.

The cycle begins anew and life rekindles itself by Your magic, Earth Goddess.

The Greenman arises, fervent in His youth, and bursting with the promise of summer.

Touch the plant. 

Connect with its energies and, through it, all nature. Voyage inside its leaves and stems through your visualization - from the center of your consciousness out through your arm and fingers and into the plant itself. Explore its inner nature; sense the miraculous processes of life at work within it.

After a time, still touching the plant, say:

I walk the earth in friendship, not in dominance.

Mother Goddess and Father God, instill within me

through this plant a warmth for all living things.

Teach me to revere the Earth and all its treasures.

May I never forget.

Meditate upon the changing of the seasons. Feel the rousing of energies around you in the Earth.

If necessary, perform any works of magic at this time.

Thank all for their guidance and coming along with the power raised and release them back to where they came.

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My Own Heart ~ Poetry

Sometimes it's my own heart

That whispers in the quiet night

A voice both fierce and fragile

Holding sorrow love and light

It beats with hope then shatters

A tide of ebbs and flows

A flame that flickers softly

When the weary evening glows

It longs for hands to hold it

Yet fears the touch of rain

It dreams of endless summers

But still recalls the pains

Sometimes it's my own heart

That stands in its own way

Aching for the dawn to come

But lost within the gray

Yet even in its breaking

It dares to dream anew

For even fragile hearts like mine

Are strong enough to bloom

~ Ryan

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Serial Words ~ Poetry

Words march on in endless streams

Threaded tight like tangled dreams

One by one they take their turn

Flames that flicker thoughts that burn

Sentences like silver chains

Looping back through loss and gain

Each one follows some rebel

Bound within their rhythmic spell

Letters stack in careful rows

Building towers no one knows

Yet they fall and rise again

Carved by ink and shaped by pen

Serial words relentless flow

Where they lead we’ll never know

But still we write

We speak

We yearn

For stories spun and lessons learned

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Chasing the Dragon ~ Case Study #5

Tyler never planned to end up like this. He used to have dreams, used to believe in something bigger than the next high. But heroin doesn’t care about dreams. It wraps around your soul, whispers in your ear, and before you know it, you belong to it.

At first, it was just a weekend thing, something to take the edge off. Then weekends turned into weekdays, and before long, waking up without a hit felt like dying. He lost his job first, then his apartment. His mother stopped answering his calls. His little brother, the one who used to look up to him, walked past him on the street like he was a stranger.

The shelters were full, and the streets were cold. So he did what he had to do, stole, lied, whatever it took to keep the sickness away. He told himself it wasn’t forever, that he’d get clean soon, but “soon” never came.

One night, Tyler met a girl named Raven, another lost soul floating between dope houses and broken promises. They understood each other in a way no one else did. When they had money, they got high together. When they didn’t, they schemed together. It wasn’t love, but it was something.

One day, Raven didn’t wake up. Her lips were blue, her body cold. Tyler sat there for hours before he called for help, staring at the empty syringe on the floor. He told himself he wouldn’t use again after that, that he’d get clean for real this time. But grief and withdrawal are a cruel combination. That same night, he found himself in a filthy bathroom, syringe in his arm, chasing the dragon again.

When they found him, he still had the belt around his arm, the needle barely out of his vein. The paramedics worked on him and brought him back. But something inside him had already died.

He woke up in a hospital bed, an IV in his arm, his mother sitting in the chair beside him. She looked tired, older than he remembered. She took his hand and whispered, “Please, Tyler. Come back to us.”

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But the dragon was still calling, and he didn’t know how to let it go.

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Multiverse ~ By SpMartin

do not speak

to me

about the beauties

of

spring

for

i’ve cried for the world

a world

so shrouded

in

hate and anger

that my tears

have long

dried out

a drought

of hope

so now i cry

without tears

for

the world

my eyes

are swollen

and

as red

as blood

yet

i still try

to cry

for

the world

but

no

tears

will come

just this retching

that

bends my body

forward

towards

the earth

sending my knees

as if in prayer

to

the firmament

but

neither

the tears

nor

prayers

will come

just

this sadness

that envelops me

as if

i

were

a tear

from

the eyes

of

god

~ SpMartin

Read Between the Minds

https://wp.me/pLWgN-9l8

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Visit her space, she has some awesome poetry over there 😊

Phased: Forest... Dark Path... Barren Trees. Twisted Ivy. A Spotlight of a Moon. I Breathe... I Walk... Suddenly, Warping Me? Pinning Me... I Can't Move. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Manifestations of You... Come into view. Same as Before... Like Young Me, Gazing- Upon your door. But Current me is not Young like Before. However, the feelings... They Whisper... They Echo. They Leech. Dwelled in a Sleeping Lullaby. Illusions of Forlorn Eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Actions Transgressed. Choices Hexed. I Reach Out... Caress. Nothing but the Air... Your Soul, a False Acquiesce. Life's Mercy and Spare. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Forsaken. Acceptance Laced. Phased, but a Wilted Grace. Recede... A Memory of a Luscious Date- Empty, This Place... Scars for Care Lies a Deep Irate. Tears Drop, Only to Erase... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Interlaced- A Single Flower. White. The Only Item Tangible. Upon Love's Grave... Reality's Mausoleum. A Gift from the Un-Phased. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Everything Else, A Mind's Maze. Struck by a Lighting Flash. Lost in the Midst of Devotion. Golden Ash... Ghosts Blessed in a Dark Ocean. Memories Unabashed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ But Alas... Going Through is Fugacious... no turning back. Phased. In more ways than one- Whole in Vexing Voracious. Wistful in Appetency... wishing-

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❤️

Original Poetry and Works II

Golden Ashes

Mind's Maze