"Lover"

Have you got

No mind?

You whine

About matters

Of the heart,

I try to empathize

Yet your words

Reek

Of self obsession

Barely touching on

What you lost.

By Laura Jenkins

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Book

I feel as if

I am a

Hindrance

Rather than

An aid

When it comes

To the minds

Of others.

I feel as if

I should give

The words of

Others instead

Of my own.

For they require

Less time to construct,

And hold

More meaning.

By Laura Jenkins

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Plastic Room

Lying,

Backing up

Against the wall

Because the world

No longer

Makes sense.

I loathe

These four walls,

Whether it is

I or them

Who are fighting

And hindering.

Smashing windows,

Crawling through

The broken glass

To escape,

Just to be

Blocked by bars.

I want out!

Out of this world,

That seems to

Only care for

The beautiful

And charming.

Considering flying,

To see if the grass

Is really greener

On the other side,

But I lack the wings

To even try.

People preach

About what I

Should be

To please them,

To get far

In a plastic world.

Telling me that

I think too much,

That I should

Walk and talk

Like them

And fade away.

I cannot do

As they say,

Whether it is fear

Or something

Instinctive

Preventing me from

Turning to plastic.

By Laura Jenkins
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The End

I don’t know

Whether I should be

Amused or scared.

To give in

To the inching paranoia

Or to laugh in its face.

To deem each new step

As a sign of something

Sinister,

Or to be delighted

By the thought of

Moving forward.

But I do know

That it is more pleasurable

To take on what comes,

Than to hide from it all:

Being dull

And cowardly.

Besides the past

Has always

Cried wolf.

It is foolish,

To stay constant,

To fear a change.

I’d rather howl

Of laughter than fear,

At the thought of

The End.

By Laura Jenkins

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New York, New York

The harbor of New York
Was testing my faith…
So I waited…
And I waited…
The fame was not
Worth the wait.

Wall Street lied to me
Every chance it could take
So here I am,
In the financial district,
Crying outside a bank.

New York will shape you…
But then, can you escape it?
This place can be a prison,
But where isn’t,
If you make it?

You can love the Empire
Or you can loathe it.
The fortunate have robbed us,
And I will not choose
To ignore it.

You can fault the business man
As you can fault Lucifer…
So New York, New York,
Cry me a river…

Rather than a lake of fire.

by sainttrevoroftheinternet

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Driftwood

I despise letting

The current drag me

Wherever it pleases.

Where the clouds

Are fluffy and clean,

As they drift aimlessly

On the warm breeze.

Read more »

Knight

They are brutish beings

Who rely on

Elegancy and grace,

And nothing else.

Read more »

A user submitted poem by "heldinhishands"

this darkness behind my eyes
cannot be contained.
I am haunted with
questions of beauty
and why mine refuses
to be unveiled.
Read more »

Dreams

What is it about the unobtainable
that attracts the lovelorn?
How strongly desire holds on
bleeding the heart of every drop or dream.

Dream I can no more
only the lost dreams of the loveless
fill my empty heart.

Each night draws in passing endless time
that never seems to wait or realise
I need a while.

I hold on to yesterday,
a nothingness that cannot grow.
Love has withered as change blossoms
and my pain can only flourish now.

Consumed I am by weeds of self doubt,
entangled in the web I weaved.
I weep not for myself
but for that which I could have been,
for the wings I have ensnared.

©J Cole