poetrydotcom

[poetrydotcom]

advice to poets...

Don’t always take the straight road, poets. Throw a playful curve ball once in a while. Surprise yourself and your readers By introducing a new colour into your visions Or by throwing a foreign shadow over your lines. Make the verses sharper that they might  Cut through any drowsy comfortableness. Experience with emotional ambiguity. Dress your creations in new words And put those words in places And combinations that  Make you appear as an unbridled wild card As something quite as unpredictable As the whimsical winds of a forest. Don’t passively lean on the wall of memories (which are to be honest just dead things) But dare to invent from imagination From a source greater  Than your own world, your own life. In other words: Understand the perfect wonder And beautiful elasticity  Of fiction. Embrace to the full The chaos and confusion A new route or direction will stir in your mind. Don’t be afraid of any word, any emotion Any idea, any angle, any vision But learn by degrees to navigate New and untraversed waters In your great and glorious barque Of artistic evolution.

[poetrydotcom]

hurt

pain.

pain is on my wrists. in my blood. spiraling its way to my heart, to my brain, to every nerve i have.

pain is in my mind.

my mind is in pain.

pain becomes one with me. i cannot look away from it. the more i ignore it the bigger it gets.

i can't run away.

how can one run away from themself?

[poetrydotcom]

you shouldn’t be fine.

you seem fine.

after all the hell you put me through

you seem fine.

totally and incredibly fine.

and i just can’t understand it;

and maybe it makes me

some horrible person

for being upset that you’re fine,

but i guess it just sucks that

i’m not fine.

i’m not fine with what happened

or the three years i spent crying every night

because you made me feel

insecure and dumb.

or the two years after that

where the so called ‘butterflies’

you once gave me

started suffocating me instead

whenever i’d see you out.

or the years i’m still spending

pretending like i’m okay with

the constant haunting of the past.

so, no. i’m not fine with you being fine.

and i’m not fine with you having

someone new to call yours.

cause really, she doesn’t know

what she’s getting herself into.

she’ll run away screaming

while i say ‘i told you so’

to everyone who knows.

i’m sorry,

but i don’t want you to be fine.

—original poem xx

[poetrydotcom]

you make sense.

no part of missing you makes sense.

the endless thinking of you makes no sense,

the constant wishing i do at 3am—

wishing you were right there next to me—

it makes no sense to me.

but you,

oh my, you make so much sense to me.

the way you say my name,

the way you sing along to songs with me,

the accent you use to make me laugh,

it all makes so much sense.

like nothing else fits so perfectly,

your arms wrap around me so incredibly perfectly

that i can’t help but believe that i’m not meant

to be anywhere else.

and yet,

you’re 700 miles away.

that doesn’t make sense,

i still can’t figure out how it all worked out,

how right when i realized how perfect we are

you had to go away;

i miss you

and i miss how much sense you make

when you stand right in front of me.

so close i can almost touch your hand.

you make sense in a world where nothing

makes sense.

--original poem :))

[poetrydotcom]

There are days like these where it curls in my bones,

My body is lead,

My eyes wish to close.

I feel the hurt in my chest,

Feel it sink and deplete,

The justification,

Lost to sleep.

I'm tired,

I want rest,

But I can't so I cry,

I'm tired,

I'm tired,

I'm tired.

~Tired by SADSAN

17/5/2021

[poetrydotcom]

I sometimes wonder,

If someone gathered all my poetry and prose,

All my sketchbooks and paintings,

And if they could somehow combine them,

Shape them into a person,

If I would see myself staring back.

~Paper and Glue by SADSAN

21/5/2021

[poetrydotcom]

WARNING: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND INJURIES

Today I feel broken,

Chipped and cracked,

Paint peeling.

But I keep putting myself back together,

Glass split, blood caked, hands.

I feel broken because I'm not spending every ounce of my soul helping people.

My hands are slippery.

I can't grasp the prices that will allow me to help,

And my mind knows,

That maybe not all those pieces were healthy in the first place,

And my mind knows,

That some of them should never be stitched back into place.

~Bloody and Broken by SADSAN

24/5/2021

If you are feeling like this please seek help, there are people out there who can help you. Be safe.

[poetrydotcom]

December

I wish the weight on my shoulder was your head resting gently the warmth of your body cradled softly by mine huddled and cuddled beneath a blanket together next to a fire and a freshly cut pine but the weight that I feel isn’t you or another just the burdens I bury in bottles of wine so I sit here alone with the world turning colder knowing our future withered dead on the vine

a-poetic-elsewhere

[poetrydotcom]

“If I could drown in sleep as I drown in fear I would be no longer alive.”

— Franz Kafka, from Letters To Milena

[poetrydotcom]

these dreams of the same

crash again and again, I

am braced for impact

[poetrydotcom]

“I’ll live, in a dream, in a stranger’s house Where perhaps I have died, Where the mirrors keep something mysterious To themselves in the evening light.”

— Anna Akhmatova, from Let Any, Who Will, Still Bask In The South… in “Poems: Anna Akhmatova" [translated by D. M. Thomas]

[poetrydotcom]

"daughter"

look me in the eye

and tell me, mother,

tell me you see me

bright,

naked,

unarmed.

say my name and get to know me.

know me all over again

but please, mom,

keep your sharp words and cruel blades

away from my guts

i've bled enough.

[poetrydotcom]

And I can feel it all spinning silver

The way you touch me

Leaving lines across my body like

A spider in the early morning

Spins a web in the park gate

Like a beaded necklace

[poetrydotcom]

I like to sit

in the soft silence

between your sentences.

Watching the sunlight

dapple the water,

you pause

for breath,

and I smile, think

"I could listen to you talk forever"

and realise,

to my surprise,

that I mean it

completely.

[poetrydotcom]

Reblog if you wouldn't mind some curious anons

[poetrydotcom]

hoping

coming to you with my naked soul.

hoping you'll accept my flaws,

kiss my scars,

caress my stitches.

hoping you'll forgive the day i couldn't help but scream

scream at you.

hoping you won't care about the night

the night i thought about killing my father and run

run towards the woods 'til the sun rises.

coming to you with my naked body.

hoping you'll keep my secrets,

hold my patched hands,

touch my bloody lips.

hoping you'll look past the moment

the moment i wanted nothing but revenge

hoping you won't mind the hours i spent to hurt myself

hurt myself to death.

coming to you with all my being,

hoping you'll welcome,

welcome me.

[poetrydotcom]

Although the beast is gone, its venom remains. Injected into my frail veins, taking up every empty crevice. No attempt seems to extract even a drop of this venom. Now I must learn how to live with its crippling toxins coursing through my body. In a way it’s thrilling. I know it will eventually kill me. My only choice is to live on, forever carrying the mark of the beast. Although it was a truly nasty thing, I can’t help but miss it. To feel those teeth sink into me once again…that is worth an ocean full of hot, encompassing venom.