Poetry and whatnot

There's a cold dark corner
in the back of my room,
it speaks to me
and says I'm coming for you.

As I lie on my bed
in the fetal position,
my eyes are closed
hoping and wishing.

Maybe that one day
my dreams will come true,
that I don't have to be here
so down and blue.

The corner keeps talking
about how I'm going to die,
all I can do
is lie there and cry.

As the corner gets closer
and takes me in,
my soul starts to burn
as so does my skin.

My bones shall lie there
turning to dust,
my bed surrounding
nothing but rust.

Blake Duffy

Complete me,    
You untamed creature, alluring.    
     
I crave release,    
Unleash the essence, enduring.    
     
Your words ignite,    
A fervent cry.    
     
Anticipating the burst,    
A celestial display in the sky   
     
I am the warrior,    
You, the rightful commander.    
     
Endlessly challenging,    
To quench your primal ardor.

Written by Pleasingdragon

Hope everyone stayed safe and had fun last night. I spent my holiday at home with my other half, I'm just enjoying my mini vacation from work!! Have a great rest of the day.

Evil has always found me.
It never let me rest. And under a veil...
of carnality I must always perform.

Licking the sweat from his flesh.
tasting the death of innocence.
choking on the semen of sin.
mixed with the sweat and my blood
it flows on my lips

wading in the river Styx
naked among the rotting corpses
of dead dreams and false hopes
I am not laughing anymore

My cries calling to you
on the wind of despair and desire
I tasted the pain, but it was
the lust which drew you to me

Colliding into me, this darkness
gnawing my womb as it bleeds
once drawn it never stopped again
always needing to be fucked
to be tormented forever more

and my screams are always so sweet
they are one with the Devil
from the first time he came inside

evil seeks the darkness
and so it will always find me now
partake of my bruised flesh
and bruise me some more...

How I need this punishment
strokes across this pale canvas
painting in black, blue, and red
leaving me shaking and needing more

forever more...

KristinaX

There was a beautiful young lady who wore a mysterious owl. Her necklace was rare and she was on the prowl. There was something about that necklace with a strange power
When she walked by it would kill every flower.

Whenever the eyes of the owl would glow like fire flames. You had to beware of the owl's hypnotizing games. Those glowing eyes would put you in a trance. Please be careful not to even try to glance.

That mysterious necklace had the weirdest control. It would make your body spin uncontrollably into a dark black hole
Once sucked in there was no way out
No one would hear you even if you would scream and shout

What was the deal with this mysterious necklace with that owl. Someone needs to destroy that owl on the prowl. We will have to trap that lady with that mysterious owl necklace around her neck. Someone needs to snatch it off and bury it under the old bridge deck

If you touch it the wrong way It will cast its spell. You will then be cursed and trapped in hell. Please beware of the mysterious owl on the necklace of doom. Don't get trapped in your own deteriorated tomb!!!

From a young age, I have believed that maturity comes from experience. You can be in your twenties and be more mature than someone in their fifties. Which is why everyone that I surround myself in is typically an old soul at heart and have matured well beyond their years on this Earth. Humanity as a whole is very unexceptional, not only are we killing this Earth but we are killing each other and anything that inhabits this big rock we call a home. 

This prologue, of sorts, is just leading up to my main topic. . .Change.

Some people, not many that I have witnessed, go through something so unbelievable that it changes them as a person to their core. You know, the I'm not who I once was type of change. Not because you feel different or because you are growing and changing as you get older but because you are fundamentally a different person from this series of events and there is no way to get any part of that old person back. It is normally forced upon you but sometimes you choose it, regardless if it was the right choice.  Throughout life, when I people watch, I wonder how many people have been through this type of change and how they ultimately became okay with this new person. Mine happened about 11 years ago, it took me a long time to be okay with the new me so this is a topic I think about a lot. 

Just some food for thought.

Be kind to one another because you never know what someone else is going through.

C

Your thoughts continujally question me,
myself ill be alright.
My feelings ill hide down inside,
cause ill die to win this fight.

You have no clue how i feel
when you smile and lie to me.
You say inside you're hard as stone,
but i see what you want to be.

Your smile lies more than words,
i see the pain in your eyes.
The truth shows behind curtianed glass,
for others, yourself you deny.

Maybe someday you'll realize
your value pure and true.
Your countenance portrays sheer agony,
and pain like noone knew.

If you will look deep into my dying eyes,
you'll see the pain eating you through.

J.L. Holmes

Time twists in many ways
joy lasts a minute
sorrow for days
Twenty four hours
seems like seconds when you play
but seems like a week
when you're down

Memories fly by
and with time they change
no matter how hard you try
you can't be sure of them
seems forever
when you cry
and happy goes to quickly
with the turns and twists of time.  

Vicki Moore

Standing alone against the world,
To which a heart had once been unfurled,
Pain after pain, lie after lie,
Causing empathy to dry,
To inspissate by a boiling blood,
Self and others lied to,
All for greed, and power too.
A need to stop others from causing pain,
A need for revenge for a self, now slain,
A husk of what once was, a mere shell,
A soul broken, and a mind unwell.
If violence is their language,
And their dialect, carnage,
Screaming louder is the only way for them to listen,
And they will be made to listen.

Stare hard enough at the fabric of night, and if you're predisposed to dark—let’s say  the window you’ve picked is a black postage stamp you spend hours at, sleepless, drinking gin after the I Love Lucy reruns have gone off—stare like your eyes have force, and behind any night’s taut scrim will come the forms  you expect pressing from the other side.  For you: a field of skulls, angled jaws and eye-sockets, a zillion scooped-out crania.  They’re plain once you think to look.You know such fields exist, for criminals roam your very block, and even history lists  monsters like Adolf and Uncle Joe who stalk the earth’s orb, plus minor baby-eaters  unidentified, probably in your very midst. Perhaps  that disgruntled mail clerk from your job has already scratched your name on a bullet—that’s him rustling in the azaleas. You caress the thought, for it proves there’s no better spot for you than here, your square-yard of chintz sofa, hearing the bad news piped steady from your head. The night  is black. You stare and furious stare, confident there are no gods out there. In this way, you’re blind to your own eye’s intricate machine and to the light it sees by, to the luck of birth and all your remembered loves. If the skulls are there—let’s say they do press toward you against night’s scrim—could they not stare with slack jawed envy at the fine flesh that covers your scalp, the numbered hairs, at the force your hands hold?

Mary Karr