#malepoet

[goddpuppet]

I don't think I have it in me-

I want to love someone enough to change myself for

Become what you need at whatever cost to myself

I want to bleed for someone

Maybe I should start believing in god

I want to be self-destructive for a better purpose

Do anything to prove myself

I think it would be nice to feel something 

Even if it's cruelty

[goddpuppet]

I do not want to live any longer-

Albert Camus said suicide is confessing that life is not worth the trouble of living.

Scorn the suffering and never deny its existence, but I am tired I am sick of being angry and scornful, life means nothing, that is not where my problem lies-

I wish I was Sisyphus-

I can’t enjoy the absurdity, or know that suffering really means nothing. 

I cannot push this boulder any longer, I cannot live a life of futile tasks.

I cannot lie with my condemnation to a meaningless existence- 

Yet I have accepted it as truth.

I will not pray nor will I create a false idol to take away these problems, yet i do wish to die and be rid of it, and that is why I am not Sisyphus 

-godpuppet (V.G)

[goddpuppet]

our father says "-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil-"

but the church has prevailed as one of my earliest trespassers-

my body was not my own it was christs-

eating your flesh every Sunday of the third grade,

he forced himself on me and he would not be the last,

later i would separate myself from him-

and be named a problem,

ridiculed for my behavior as retaliation in the face of those who trespassed against me.

I was born into temptation,

because those around me invariably gave into theirs-

predestined-

and i will deliver myself to evil every Sunday rather than spending any further time down on my knees for him,

Amen.

- Godpuppet (V.G)

october 2nd 2022

[goddpuppet]

Nostalgia makes me sick, it makes my stomach turn and my head spin. That place doesn't exist anymore, I can't ever go back. 

And I find myself reminiscing- no, longing for that place that doesn't exist

Every bad memory soaked into the dirty brown carpet has long been deteriorating at the Staten Island dump 

Yet here I am

Longing- Not for the fighting or the mice

But for something simpler

For 5 year old me who came home to that house from surgery, stuffed wolf tucked under my arm, Bloody bandages 

I'm too old to take a stuffed animal with me to the hospitals anymore.

Longing to put my clothes on the older-than-dirt radiator to warm them up when it was below zero outside.

I wonder how much broken glass was in the carpet-

I wonder how quickly they moved her body-

The house was flipped No more cherry tree, it was far older than I am and I think a part of me died with it-

Death is coming for any remnants of this life of mine-

that is hidden in memories I can't reach and my therapist thinks maybe I shouldn't keep trying because I won't like what I find- but

Death is coming, it has plucked them off already- the dog, the neighbors, Aunt Tessie, the cat, slowly

 it will only exist in my mind 

as my sisters are too young.

What will I do then? I can't trust my own brain. What will I do when the only place my home exists is my mind?

There is no home to go back to, 

I miss a place that hasn't existed in years.

My home has been couches and cars and bug filled houses full of people that don't like who I am- 

I wanna go home

This is not the home I knew

It is not my home anymore 

[goddpuppet]

People say they miss being a child the carefree whimsy of not knowing everything is unbearable.

Just yet.

But I was not that child, I worried,

I teared up driving past the catholic cemetery because I knew everyone I knew or ever loved would die sooner or later.

I knew I would die and feel the cold itchy dirt above my body,

"I can't take wolfy with me"

Seemed unfair I had to die and couldn't even take my favorite stuffed animal.

I was such a horrifically aware child

I knew who had drinking problems and that the food stamps office was full of assholes.

I wondered why the doctor was expensive when we need it to live, and why anyone was homeless.

I have never known a moment of peace or a quiet mind.

I thought about outgrowing my toys, and my dogs dying.

I'd lay awake at night thinking about when the last time my dad hugged me would be, who was standing in the exact spot I was hundreds of years ago, and what would happen if the cherry tree fell and crushed my bedroom in my sleep.

Sometimes I wish it had.

-godpuppet (V.G)

[goddpuppet]

everytime i light a cigarette

for just split second

i remember being a little kid, and begging my dad to stop smoking

its so bad for your health

the first time i lit a cigarette

i cried

my hands smelt like sawdust and nicotine

i am my father

this cigarette commemorated it

i am cold and mean, i abuse too many substances and drive too fast, i am undeserving of love and refuse to let anyone know how much i hate myself

i am my father

[madsoulpoetry]

• Live • • READ CAPTION FOR FULL PIECE • • • its 3:17 am in L.A the freeway symphony serenade quiet neighborhoods playing prose patiently • aluminum anarchy are emptied stored restoration of peace of mind for bed less prowlers • microwave establishments do not accept the struggle rattling stomachs cause drum sounds searching to satisfy last weeks hunger • ratios of tax payers sleep safely sound as the city natives dance to classical joints blazing trails with no one around • human owls dont talk they sit and listen time keeps moving methodically instrumentally the big and little hands playing the score as poverty smiles up and down against society's civil warfare • its 3:59 am in L.A Im sure the same things happen in the place where you stay the question is why cant we beam in the light as the forbidden do at night • - Madsoul • • Thank you for reading. 🙏🏻 • • • #madsoulpoetry #cityofangels #philly #Chicago #losangelesartist #wordsmith #poetic #instapoesia #penmanship #soulwork #writersofinstagram #wordart #malepoet #poemporn #namaste #penmanship #menwhowrite #createart #follow #igpoets #wordporn #darkpoetry #poetryisnotdead #drunkpoetsociety #reader #facts #quotes #raw #longform #emotions (at Los Angeles, California)

[coldkingwolf-blog1]

Patrick Roche - “21” (CUPSI 2014)

I usually don’t reblog much or share too much of material that is not my own on my blog, however, this blew my mind.