It's All In the Mind

I saved my mind to a memory stick
so I can reboot each time I get sick.

My version control says don't ask me
and I've started to sing in MP3.

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Lonely Suicide

it's scary when no one understands
you think they do but they lie
always leading you on and fucking your mind
leaving your body aside
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Strangers

A stranger.

A stranger lies in front of me
but he didn't used to be one.
This stranger used to look at me
but now he looks at no one.
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Revelations

Take the knife, twist it in my heart
Stand back, and watch me fall apart

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This Life That I Live

Why can't I do what I want to?
I've tried but I doubt I'll make it through
I want to exterminate myself 'till I'm cold and blue
Give me a rope and I'll make it true
Ending this understated life
To depart to my personal high-rise
That's waiting for me like a couple of spies.

No more having to deal with being alone
Or always annoying people and being wrong
Being dead is my destiny and I knew it all along
Only time I feel real is when I'm writing this poem
I'm tired of trying to be your illusion of satisfaction
I just want to kill myself to avoid further interaction
With people like you, who make death my fatal attraction
I'm on the "highway to hell" and my tires lost traction
I can't stop writing this because this pen is my heart
It's been fueling my rage from the very first start
But this is my way to try to not fall apart
And it's helping me, at least for the most part.

This poem is so real to me, it's my personal masterpiece
Dedicated to all the people who want to rest in peace
Because we are tired of people saying we are dried up grease
That's why I'm going to be in bliss when I cease to exist
Don't want to take part in your daily routine
I don't want to so rich I drive in a limousine
Don't want to so poor I eat nothing but saltines
Want to be in a world where there's no money and all hands are clean
Where time is an illusion that's known to everyone as obscene
Where every single day could be Halloween.

I guess that's just my own personal Shangri-La
Like waking up early and going fishing with my grand-pa
Or swinging on a swing he made with only wood and a handsaw
I feel trapped in these memories but they are so raw
And I can't escape them because that's the only time I felt loved
I actually had a family that I was a part of
But my mom decided for us to give up love for success
And now she wonders why I'm always depressed
Maybe it's because when we moved, my heart got compressed
Ever thought I needed my family instead of being alone in the U.S?
But it is too late, the damage is done
And now I won't be satisfied until I'm gone
I would stab myself in the heart but I have none
And now these sleeping pills are making me yawn
I hope that I don't make it until dawn.



I wrote this poem about 3 years ago when I was still attending high-school. I hope you liked this poem. More to come soon. Thank you for reading

Along The Sea

As I wander far
Along the foreign strand
I feel the tug of home
Pulling on my hand,
I feel the loneliness
That I have made for me
Whenever I am here
On the edge of the sea.
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Infernus Part I

There was a land of gray and a sea of red

Painted by the blood that we have shed

If you got called, it is your turn to die

You don’t think but just comply

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A Poem by Mikel Jabbary Mayers

Your Seed
Like a seed blowing across the wind
In many directions it may go;
Give it time, give it time
Let it sprout, let it sprout;

Step back, keep watch
Let it amaze you;
But don't go too far
Because it needs you;

Give it solid ground to stand upon
Water it with tears of happiness
Shine upon it with rays of love.

-Mikel Jabbary Mayers

Thank you for reading this wonderful submission by a unique poet. Click here to read more of his poetry.

Be Sweet To Me

the limbs are bare
exposed to the elements
vulnerable without
the cover of obvious beauty

shuddering at the slightest breath
and reachout out for shelter
in the season's embrace
swept up in the moment
and carried by the restlessness
of falling over and again


By frost42_24

The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut tree

the village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;

And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

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Baxter Bug and the Purple Orb

Baxter was born in a meadow
under a rotting plank
with hundreds of brothers and sisters
in a home both darkly and dank.

His momma was a June bug
and he was a June bug too,
schooled in all the sorts of things
that June bugs love to do.

The time had come for him to fly
and leave his happy home,
his momma went to the book case
and pulled out a well worn tome.

She read from a chapter called "Hazards"
to each of her children dear,
"Stay clear of birds when you’re flying
or you won't last out the year."

"And one more thing that you should know,
and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."

So he left his home behind him,
went flying all around,
he saw some birds in the tree tops
and headed right for the ground.

After landing in the tall grass
he met a stink bug named Dwight
who told him wonderful stories
of an orb so purple and bright.

"Forget now what your mother said,
I'm here to set you straight,
the orb is just a doorway,
you know, it's like a gate."

"When you enter into its brightness
you're magically swept away
to a lovely world of happiness
where forever you can stay."

So Baxter started searching,
he looked both high and low
and if he found the purple orb
straight to it he would go.

But the light was very clever,
it kept its secret well,
poor Baxter kept on looking
as if he was under a spell.

Finally on an August eve
just as darkness was appearing
he spotted a distant purple glow
across a meadow's clearing.

"It must be the orb,” he said to himself,
so he flew with all his might
across the meadow with all due speed
towards that beautiful purple light.

Soon he hovered before it
and bathed in its eerie glow,
what wonders lay in store for him
his mind could scarcely know.

Gathering up his courage
into the purple light he sped,
crackle and zap was all he heard
as he fell to the ground near dead.

He lay in a growing pile
of other bugs who'd seen
a purple orb up in the sky,
but it wasn't what it seemed.

So if you meet a stink bug
who goes by the name of Dwight
don't believe the tales he tells
of a beautiful purple light.

Remember what Baxter's momma said,
"and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."


By John

Romantic Haiku

A simple yet mysterious haiku. Very cool please read:

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Inspirational Image

I believe that this quote is very true, yet unrealistic in at least our current modern culture

That Feeling

You know that feeling?

That feeling.
It only happens once in a while,
and it happens when you meet someone special.
You feel complete.

It feels like rose petals are flying around everywhere,
every time a pleasant breeze blows.
In the ocean of emotions, I am floating on the top.
I feel so light I believe I can fly.
All I have to do is spread out my wings
and I'll be flying.
But I can't do it alone.
I need you there with me, because without you,
the rose petals all fall to the ground,
the pleasant breeze stops blowing,
and I start feeling heavier,
and drown to the bottom,
where only the most hated of the emotions stay.
Without you,
I will be left incomplete.


By Nux

Cute Love Poem

I really like this one a lot

Also check out this unique artwork

Icarus

I've wandered beyond remembrance
My mind is blank, I'm in a trance,
Images of what life was like echoes beyond,
my heart is empty of your song.
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Just Tell Me

Tell me that it's over.

Tell me to give up.

Tell me that I broke your heart

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A Poem For YOU

In this world of Uncertainties

I’m the man that you can trust

And in my words of sincerity

That my love would never last.

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My recent project Pt. 2

Here is some more of the stuff I've been working on:

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Hilariously Random Poem

This poem made me laugh so much. I hope you guys enjoy it as well. Let me know what you think.

Also check out this unique artwork

Loved

i love you he said
and i loved you too.
the word is loved,
past tense.

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Angela: A Woman Lost

Hey, where is Angela?
The brown eyes
The red lipstick
The slicked back hair
And a smile without a care
Did I bring her here today?
Do any of y’all see her or hear her in my voice?
Please…let me know where Angela isRead more »

My recent project

Recently I have become addicted to spray painting these cosmic scenes

...

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A unique poem that is hard to forget

God has granted you a confidence that is unmatched. 

He granted you friends and family who care. 

You helped me in my time of need and I will always remember that. 

But I see this path you are going down and I am begging you not to, it only leads to the devils lair.

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