Poetry Blog For Poetry

I keep trying to write something beautiful and true but I get this shit instead. mine arnt tagged u have to scroll lol. some are

[fraying-fabric]

They pulled away from where they had pinned me against the bathroom wall, hands still gripping my upperarms. We had about two minutes left of this passing period.

I wanted to asked, "why me? How did you know i would agree? This has never happened to me before" But I knew the answer.

They would've made a face, I could read it exactly, but couldn't put it into words. Maybe something like why? So when they spoke their next sentence, it would've started with the hidden why. Like: why, "because youre gross." 

Sometimes during class they would smell their hands then look over to me.

It all seemed hella beautiful

Like if jigsawpuzzles could be liquid.

Like how later I had to read the outsiders two more times for two more schools.

Like how,

Recently, I got asked to stay,

Ive never been asked to stay before. (Unless something i thought didnt happen did.)

Not anyones fault, just age... timing...

I dont think I will. I dont think i can.

I have this ugly want to be wanted,

I have this insatiable greed.

[bottlecap-press]

From Wil Gibson’s chapbook, Untitled: poems from the road home, available from Bottlecap Press! https://bottlecap.press/products/untiwg

[bottlecap-press]

From Liberty Brooke’s chapbook, God is a Lesbian, available from Bottlecap Press! https://bottlecap.press/products/godilb

[fraying-fabric]

I want, in one poem only,

To carve our petals into stone.

No, something stronger,

That they cant erase, can't disfigure, nor compare

I want, in this poem only,

To take one beautiful lasting picture,

To keep the fire going, keep the libraries open, keep the ideas flowing. No books to burn here, theyre all out being read. Youll have to catch us first. When they have their way, even the dead wont be peaceful. I find solitude and healing in what remains of history, the sharp shards of glass that could not be swept away.

Where as they find peace in my absence, in our hunting. In the lose of words and lovers grips torn to peices.

I have not written enough poems, not near enough to get anything done.

But the take out words and they take their meanings and then what are we left with?

I get turned out with the lot of us, im messy and im crude. Loud and too unafraid.

What? Will you kill me? For that?

Certainly funny for last words. But only if theres someone to hear, to write them down. There no joke with no one to laugh just something said.

So its selfish in nature, the way i want to live and love. Its selfish in nature the way I think we shoukd be remembered as good. I am selfish in nature. I am selfish. I am.

[specialmouse-deactivated2025060]

Biggest red flag in a man is when he says his favorite food is steak. First of all it should be cock but even then can you not say something more nuanced you blubbering ape. Not even cheesecake or something. I’d even take a subway sandwich because it means you have some sort of desire to change the world around you

[fraying-fabric]

Lay us down like the children we were

Too disgusting to put into words.

Night falls invisible

We're separate individuals

As the world clicks and hums in response to us.

If I was better wed be better,

We'd be open wounds to clean

Flowers blowing in the wind,

Theres no more peices of us left,

No more lullabies to sing.

[fraying-fabric]

Like a line that deserves a better poem,

Falling flat.

In my mind youre out searching for me,

Using anything but your eyes.

Because thats just the game you play

It keeps you occupied.

When you find me you put your hand infront of your face

Smile, spin three times, say 'run'

So I do.

Its kind of terrifying , because Id want to,

Id want to run from you.

For you.

Thats all you are to me, really.

Someone to run for.

If my feet were lighter, if this were more than burning idle fantasy,

We coukd interlock fingers like tangled fishing line

[the-muppet-joker]

I went to my Bugs Class today-- we're on the dead bugs unit right now-- and lately we've been comparing dead bugs to other dead things, to make sure we know the difference. We were looking at dead people today. Their faces are covered, and their skin is peeled back in some places so that we can know that their insides aren't like a bug's. Human cadavers look different than I thought they would. Yellowed skin, sinewy dried-up muscles, imperfectly preserved. They smell like formaldehyde. My one classmate-- you know the one, I won't say their name (I talk about them too much)-- was tasked with holding back the skin with gloved hands so we could look closer at the ribcage, learn how it differs from the thorax. Their hands are long and slender, and they had to take off all their rings to put on the surgical gloves. My heart was pounding as I watched them. I felt horribly ashamed, because the smell of the formaldehyde makes me feel hungry, which is disgusting, and sick. It made me feel sick. I couldn't hear what the professor was saying, I was just looking at Them, and I imagined what it might feel like to have their hands under my skin like that, examining my bones and deciding if I am a human underneath. I don't think I want them, romantically. I'm not even sure if I want them to be my friend. I think I want to be them. Maybe I want to have their skin over my flesh, maybe it would hold my disgusting viscera in a better shape. My mouth is filled with saliva, and I am horrible for wanting. I think if they put me on the table, and opened me up, it would be maggots underneath. I know, because I am rotten. I know, because I can feel them squirming.

[fraying-fabric]

I hope your good poetry sits well in your stomach

[noneyah1251]

Right Beside Me

I hope when

I close my eyes

and make my peace

with death-side’s

ushering light,

It’s your hand

reaching out

for mine. 

Like when

I was nine

and you hugged me

goodbye-

no distance could ever

leave our friendship

behind. 

It’s too sweet,

Like the summer 

of 93-

you and me,

your long hair was gold

and we both still

played make believe. 

You stood a couple inches 

taller

had glasses

proving you were smarter,

but you still came back for me. 

Taking me  to foreign lands,

made of hills of sand,

we were wild and free. 

A simple time

that changed my life,

a childhood friendship

thats withstood

the test of time. 

Over three decades

of memories

forever mine to keep-

I hope in every lifetime

your hand always finds me.

[log6]

this is a desperate appeal from the Earth to any sentient species: we are stranded on a radioactive waste world. Please play our iconic club smash megamix. Remember us.

[crazysodomite]

ancient freeks

[fraying-fabric]

So selfish to frame suffering

As a battle one has lost.

So selfish to stay buffering,

When some run despite the cost.

You frame it all, while blubbering,

About symbolic mazes,

Twirling petals,

Dazzling oceans,

Asking: whos crazy? Who's crazy?

So selfish to be wondering, wandering,

Taking naps under moss.

Living wages, reptile houses, tarot cards, lint,

Microchips, plastic bags, magazines, potato chips,

Trading cards, mausoleums, astronaut ice cream, fried fish,

You think "i wish I could walk with out disturbing a thing"

That voice you hate, the one that saves you, sees you at your most pathetic. That voice that knows your name, who seems almost prophetic.

That voice that called you out, that called you in, that voice responds with out a grin, "then you might as well not exist."

To that voice you are the only reason, some sort of fading light. You respond "I would love to give up this fight"

"Then do it."

"Maybe I will"

"You won't"

"I will"

"Then do it."

"No, you!"

"I dont want to hurt you."

"Yes you do."

[seekingstars]

HOW’S THAT HOUSE THAT RAISED YOU? - Lev St. Valentine

[sangueredenzione]

Pitiless abandonment

Inflicts a different type of wound

Gouged

Yet somehow

Starved of a touch

And

I still hear you laughing

Even now

Clutching at this humiliation as if I could find some comfort 

Anywhere 

In this cycle of shame you perpetuate

Just to keep the laugh track playing over every failed attempt to disengage from it 

Made 

Like a fool 

Idly toying with the notion that just once

Just 

Once

There would be some sincerity 

In the words 

You speak 

Holding him to a dream

- G.M

[fraying-fabric]

How I Feel (The Perfectionist)

The time can also be scrunched by the amount of events

What is the frequency?

Theres no official one.

Outside pressure (any demographic info)

Who to ask? Is it already too late?

My anxiety is so severe, I fear for the state of my heart, mind, and immortal essence.

I want to be an angel so bad, but its already too late for me.

I thought about my worst fear,

Which makes the matters worse.

I dampened the blow. I cant say what I did anymore.

But im guilty of the crime.

No nothing hear, id admit to that all.

I take the long way around. Because theres no door in the front. Its impossible no ability or

Well you still have to move your things.

In a world like this, im told, the answer isn't turn your self in.

If their experienced world is differnt enough, they wont know whats normal for even the most basic of things of the out group, no mater how small the in group. Not with out the most careful of observation. Everyone one has pressure from their inner world as well. People can not become diamonds.

Well just how high did the tower get?

Questions asked only anger answers. Learn to fold like origami paper.

Some betrayals are smaller, less meaningful than others.

[0000ffff0000]