Gord
2026-08-24 01:42 pm
Dance mat: crash pad. Down to last chance, Dawn breaks the man. By the dock, Sunsets fades to black, Like you fade into back, It all felt way too fast. Despite the missteps, I'd still see you dance.
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Gord
2026-06-18 06:20 pm
Life spent, upon a boat, If you ask him how it went: 'I couldn't have known, how the waves would throw me, If I had the chance I would do it again. You never know.' Although, he said heresies, If you ask me, it was like God when we spoke. I couldn't have known, how what he said affected me, If I had the chance, I would do it again, You never know.
Gord
2026-06-18 02:34 pm
The point is the point, Boys will be boys, The noise: Serpentine, Like around me it coils. I ask my father, what he knows... His axe to grind is my axe to grind, Consequence, why my ass is fine. But who dies I'll never choose, I'll never have the chance to try. The noise, deafening, and wide. Like it surrounds me, And I planned to hide. As the waves they overtake me, I realize everyone has to die, Grandfather's axe was never mine, And nothing comes after, A modern dance to time.
Lynn
2022-04-14 10:27 pm
to stop what you are doing and beg in a different way than before for a chance to change; to cause a beginning, a genesis to start anew in a parallel version of your life where you have finally shaken off the slumber, opened your eyes to start a new journey but can it truly be a blank slate if the dust from the eraser still chokes the air?
Innasense
2020-10-10 09:54 pm
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
Blake Garner
2020-09-12 06:42 pm
You would not believe your eyes If you seen all the dark thoughts, I keep at tide inside my head If only that was true, I can no longer control these racing thought, I'm a danger to myself I've succumb to pain, I've felt numb for too long I inflict pain to just feel something, Thoughts constantly racing Never a chance to think straight, I've found a healthy affliction In the pain I inflict upon myself, I can feel it now Like cardiac arrest, The slip of the chair The tension around my neck, Ill try my best, The pull of the blade Against my wrist, I've been trying my best How much do I invest, Before its all over No longer numb, My Demons They catch me when I slip, Motor control loss Mindless acts, Just a permanent solution To a temporary feeling, Exactly how long is temporary All i want is for this living nightmare to be over, These demons consuming me alive Fighting is no longer a solution, Don't stop me now I know now noone would shed a tear, Noone would shutter a sound To stop me, Forget yesterday I dont wanna see tomorrow, Remember when you told me That I was better off dead, I knew it from the start I was never any good to anyone, You can believe it When im not here tomorrow, Today I find something great Today I find a Healthy Affliction.
azuresky96
2020-05-26 07:30 pm
The sun begins to set in the horizon I muster up the courage to walk like royalty With a few hours of rest, I think I am ready. Heart beats fast, hands are sweaty My brain feels like a time bomb. How do you get ready when you're not ready at all? Standing like a scarecrow I'm the one getting scared Why did you have to choose me? I just want to curl up or even flee. No one else seems to relate I must survive this time. As I leave, the moon begins its work. That's it for today. Tomorrow calls for another chance.
Gord
2019-08-06 11:06 am
Check your profile: Analytics. Poetry descendant, effective, Perhaps too analyze their seconds, or thirds, fourth. Cheek and gumline: A forest of tics, A forced life of sickness, camera, A chance to be rich, rich. Lick, Lick, Bitch, Bitch, Brown Popsicle, tastes like poop, Why didn't I ask for one in blue?
Gord
2018-08-28 11:03 am
My belly white, tattoo skin black. World external floating my inlet facts. Arms extended, hurled outward to any man, At least stolen by chance; At last romance. Of snakebites, stated minds, Or nothing. The badger writes. Science though he knows nothing of, Only fighting and dénouemen love, Fakery and the image source he knows, Yet facts alas in the seeds he sews, Spits on the dirt, who, He walks upon with shoes.
Verbalised
2018-03-17 05:15 pm
I never took the time to see What couldn't be seen with just the eye And now in vein I search to find A second chance to say goodbye
Gord
2017-12-27 10:00 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts. Ark art, Swan gone, Dark garb, lark fawned, Opposite of his mind, He finds laughter, Chapter after chatter, Chancellor gone; He defines pattern, An afterthought.
The Sophist
2017-09-25 12:25 pm
Today I heard a triad In a weird way it made me feel sad Can't wait to get home Get my guitar Get the chance To Try that Yesterday I heard a melody In an old way it still feels new to me Can't wait to get out Get dancing Get clarity Inpsiring Last week I saw an act of kindness In a good way it made me feel that My kind is not alone Not so far Not fraud in fact To try that Tomorrow I'll write a poem About all the ways I've felt this week My blindness in a tome Day blindness Moon blindness Blindness off the dome Right now there's nothing to look at Immersed in machinery Not a technocrat Not a plutocrat Stopped avoiding art To try that triad But make it flat
Gord
2017-01-17 12:00 am
Finding selected, Keystroke wreckless. Days clicking google adsense, Hoping for a future pleasant. Those married to future present, Set precedence, or providence. Either way, their feeling felt. Ourselves providing the set lists, Swimming only to divide the kelp. Tragedy or more could define the self, Prophets could by chance desire wealth, Perhaps afterlife is rather expensive. Better than desiring severed heads, Documenting your proletariat ventures, Penniless yet the castle stands. Random chance gives in to my demands.
The Sophist
2016-05-26 12:00 am
Deep in the forest Between pleasure and pain Screams are so violent Yet silence remains How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or do you ever think of me? Stridently hopeless Lotso' talk about games Stammers to silence There it goes again again How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or do you even think of me all? Tomorrow, if you picture it; Another chance to witness someone else's bliss And envy it And live your life in envying Green both in your mind and in your skin Clad in purple cloth worn to protect your sins And mourn the loss of love you stitched into it Around me I see Ghosts of a memory Smoke in the air I breathe A complete lack of energy Dogmatic discomfort Dogmatic disbelief Friends crushing my dreams Becoming the enemy I'm Building a fortress To honor my name To scream at the silence To wander in pain To wonder in fantasy Living each day the same Do you ever think of me? Or am I just a memory? Deep in the forest Between pleasure and pain Screams are so violent Yet silence remains How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or did you ever think of me at all?
Marcus Bales
2016-03-20 12:00 am
Clevelanders are practical: they see A chance to make some money off the rich And near-rich who make up the GOP. We want it to go off without a hitch And keep the fearful bastards spending free For rooms and food and drink and sex for which We'll smile and hustle, taking every trouble To earn big tips and charge them more than double. The Trump supporters think that they are clever Well, let them think that everything is sunny; We Democrats are smart enough, however, To make sure nothing happens that's too funny While we make sure our principal endeavor Is separating Trumpies from their money. We march here to an economic drummer; It's going to be a profitable summer. They say that violence may be Cleveland's diet If Donald Trump expresses his frustration. Not to worry, though -- it will be quiet. Not even Trump's most fascist agitation will prompt the local Democrats to riot If Donald doesn't get the nomination: There just is not enough white trash around To get a good disturbance off the ground.
Gord
2015-12-08 12:00 am
Chance choirs made from wolves, Lance fire no longer, proper, Atlas' wait, the world evolves, Society decays and dissolves, Great heroes fall to the gossiper, Sitting improper, upon gossamer. Intelligence to fall en mass, The spider man, revered for candor, Perspires to fight the fault finder.
Gord
2015-10-29 12:00 am
Common amongst cannon is balls, Steel walls and inevitably, Grim death at the priory. Chance meeting inevitability, Trading stocking cap for beanie, Fortuna smiled upon him, Hammock soldiers now needy, Priority is the thugs have their street, Rather than classes chance meeting, Fleeting as their hatred may be.
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