Listen

low low u deem my cup

senior is to hurtful to my swagger and my strut

im 42

still rockin a 6 pack and a two six at all times cool

and a fool

wasting away the energy and beauty all over the pool

thats the tool

my owned sing a song and make a true

tell someone and get em fueled

tell someone its never over till im proper screwed

thats the tune

i was never in it to toon tame or trade for truce

im the swagger that unifies the move

grooves upon the lackin slackers with a higher understanding view

im more than dude

wanting you to say the word

oh shoot

im not an innocent straggler obtuse

im intense with purpose and feelings more vicious than even you

The longer I yearn, the further love recedes

So take my hand, and teach me to wait

Let me find peace in the things I cannot change

And trust that love shall find me again

For I have chased what was never mine to keep

And begged for flowers that were not yet in bloom

So let me rest, my love, let me breathe

And learn that not all things are meant to be soon

Firefly fly away with me, perhaps love is not lost

Perhaps it is only learning its time

And if I must wait, whatever the cost

May peace find me before love finds mine.

I have never written anything before and im not into poetry but, i wanted to explain this feeling i had all my life and this is what i ended up with and wanted to share, not sure if this is the right place.

The Boat

I think I missed it

Not to a place,
not to a time,
but to something
to belong to.

Everyone else seems to be there.
And I am here,

Technically.

a stranger in my own country,
a stranger to my own family,
a stranger to the person
everyone calls me.

B

As if a name
could make someone exist.

I don’t remember belonging
and then losing it.

There was no before.
No place I came from.
No moment I can point to
and say: there I was.

There has only ever been now,
and now is empty.

I did what people do.
I tried,
to make a life of my own.

But nothing brought me closer.
Every road led back
to that same place.

Outside of everything.

I don’t know what I missed,
or when I missed it.
I only know that everyone
seems to have arrived
somewhere I cannot find.

Maybe the boat has sailed.

Maybe it was never there.

Maybe B was forgotten
before there was anyone
to remember him.

And still, I am here,
living a life
I cannot quite call mine.

A person
I cannot quite feel.

Present enough to exist,
absent enough to wonder
if I ever really arrived.
Or am I still waiting,

On the boat

I knew I was in love with you

long before I found the courage to say your name.

It began with the way you walked,

as if the earth softened beneath your feet,

and your anklets whispered secrets

only my heart could understand.

I have seen beautiful eyes before,

but yours never simply looked at me.

They lingered,

like moonlight resting on still water,

leaving behind a silence

that spoke louder than words.

There were stars above us every night,

yet somehow they seemed smaller

than the tiny ones stitched upon your shoes.

Even the sky, I thought,

had begun to borrow its beauty from you.

Your hair wandered with the wind,

your braid swayed like it belonged to a song

that had been waiting years

for someone to listen.

I watched you enough

to memorize the pauses in your steps,

the smile you tried to hide,

the way you hurried through crowded streets

only to slow down

when there was nowhere left to be.

And still...

I wished for just one moment closer.

Not because I wanted the world,

but because standing beside you

felt like having all of it.

You never needed jewels

to become unforgettable.

You wore simplicity

the way dawn wears its first light.

Quietly.

Effortlessly.

Sometimes you lowered your eyes,

yet somehow they always found my soul.

You never finished every sentence,

but I carried every unfinished word

as though it were a promise.

If love had ever asked me

what beauty looked like,

I would not describe your face.

I would tell it about your shadow.

Because even the part of you

that never spoke,

never smiled,

never reached for me,

was enough to leave me breathless.

If I could,

I would gather stars in my hands

just to scatter them along your path,

so that for once

the heavens might know

what it feels like

to be beneath something more beautiful.

And if someday

you ask me why I came so close,

I will tell you the truth—

I wasn't chasing you.

I was following your shadow,

because even your shadow

felt like the safest place

my heart had ever found.

To truly know what love is, open your heart, freely share your love unconditionally, without motive or benefit, with all others.

Only then may you know what love is and experience life as it was aways meant to be.

L’œuvre éphémère est une ode à l’âme.

L’art pictural soutient l’esprit en nage.

L’arbre de vie évolue en arrière.

La vie naît d’un autre mystère.

On meurt tous d’une part de lumière.

*poème composé en français*

The flowers have seeded in the land

The wind has carried them to their future destination

Even so are our words .

Our words are made for hearts we do not know .

The wind of destiny blows them into their destination .

We have no idea how our words can impact hearts we do not know .

Blowing comfort and inspiration into the hearts and minds where it’s needed .

I sow the seed in hope

Seeds of love and seeds of comfort .

These words may even lay dormant for a long season . But when the time is right they bear great fruit .

Planting the seed for the hungry heart .

May those hearts be filled and find love .

Six feet under, thought I finally paid fucking the price,
Till a grave robber pulled me up–just to kill me twice!!!
Peeled off my skin, tore the bone from the corpse,
Made a lamp out the loot—what a terrible fucking sport.
“Bro, I’m dead already!” A dimming light inside his room,
Ed Gein with his craft, making decor out of doom.
Sitting cold on the desk while he’s taking a nap,
Just a house fixture now, stuck up in an endless trap.
Never got to ask if he’d love me as a fucking lamp,
He keeps switching me on/off and the light gets damp.
Ed Gein with his craft, sewing shadows in the gloom.
Now I’m burning through the night with a filament stare,
A prisoner chained to the killer, with no prayer left to spare.
He likes this cozy ambiance, shadows dancing on the wall,
he can’t hear the creeping steps behind him in the hall;
When you start playing god with what you dig from the sod,
Darkness more evil than Gein comes to even out the odd.

Meeting her is like finding a remedy to your never-ending pain,

Knowing her is like a dose of medicine you need everyday,

Falling in love with her will make you think now you're finally at ease,

But parting from her will make you realise she was a disease,

And then you spend all your life trying to cure it,

An additional woe that you just can't seem to hold it,

At parties with friends or familial gatherings events, you're fine,

But in a chamber with an empathetic clinical stranger, you show it,

The withdrawal symptoms that you're withholding,

Since that darkest night you never saw a bright morning,

Only if you could save yourself from the falling,

Like Icarus you fall but oh, the flight was enthralling,

Once in this life, you lived to love,

And loved to live a life that had her name written on it,

Now its gone but for some while you had it right there in your palm,

An innocent eyelash wish that once you blew left a souvneir,

Insurmountable grief in your arms.

Lemme know your thoughts:)

Poetry is my girlfriend,

She knows I like to write,

And loves to read my verses,

All hours of the night.

She wants to feel my feelings,

And get to know me well,

The hours pass me by so fast,

When I'm under her sweet spell.

Music is my lover,

She knows I like to sing,

And loves to listen to my voice,

And hear my lyrics ring.

She shares my passion,

Just as loud,

As I can get sometimes,

She soothes my soul and comforts me,

When we make up brand new rhymes.

Coffee is my mistress,

She knows I hate to sleep,

And gives me strength to stay awake,

When harvests I must reap.

She keeps me sharp,

And pressing on,

When weary I become,

I drink her love,

And carry on,

And then we both are one.

Winter is my lady friend,

She knows I hate the heat,

And gives me rest from summers sun,

She comes as a relief.

She keeps me cool,

And feeling fresh,

A really lovely gal,

But we're just friends,

Not too too close,

She makes for a good pal.

Midnight is my ride or die,

She knows I need my peace,

And always waits alone for me,

In these abandoned streets.

She kills the noise,

And outs the lights,

And makes me feel so calm,

And although she leaves me every day,

She's never gone for long.

I hate poems
Now fuck off

What if I loved you like sun?

What if I burnt every day aching your smile

What if I froze when you look at me for a while?

What if I waited still for a thousand years till we collapsed into one?

What if I loved like a sun

Would you come close, embrace me and accept the element of devotion I am?

Would you then stay and love me till the universe ended?

Would you let me embrace you and tell you just how I've burnt a thousand lives to meet you?

~Faiz

Sometimes I turn on some Marvin and Minnie
and I drift away in my mind.

I see you there, waiting for me.

Candles lit, rose petals scattered, red velvet sheets.

You lay there, naked and bare.

I lust for you deeply.
I long to suck your tender nipples.
I hope to kiss your soft lips.

I wonder how you taste between your legs.

One day

we’ll look at each other

like strangers who got the story wrong

and our hearts

won’t stay quiet about it

they’ll ache

every time we stand close

and say nothing

every time we pretend

we never meant what we felt

every time

silence replaces the truth

we once held so easily

𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓶𝓪

I try every time to write poems but I just can't write one that actually connects with me or something with feelings and imagery and stuff. How do you learn to write poetry other than just practicing writing? Does it come naturally for you guys?!?

Like I tried writing a poem but it just doesn't work out well:

A liquid mirror catching the amber sky
Sunlight cutting on the road like a tide.
The tall growth of Earth's lungs, they fly,
The restless cradle at the horizon’s side.

A bright blue screen with white billows.
The ghost is now our lost morning light
Hear a hum where the blue wind bellows.
Only the light in the dark out of sight.

The city exhales a gray breath
Buildings grow, they fly.
The light of the sun is close to death
An endless sky.

Like it doesn't flow well but also has not much deep meaning and I don't know.

How do you improve at this? Do you read certain poets, study particular techniques, or approach writing in a specific way?

Thanks a lot!

How I dread when the clock is read by the dozen

How I wail away the hours and so desperately try to sail away to what we consider ours

I am the thief of leisure and when I think it’s a search and seizure

Of the moments I didn’t say what I was supposed to say

When I didn’t admit to you what it meant

Or how frustrated I felt

All of the lingering feelings dwell and swell inside my synapses

So as I force myself to slumber, the neurons themselves propagate the portal

It allows the transfer of retribution and regret

To think that temporary would be achievable just by closing my eyes was a misconception

To think to use the egress to do the impossible, to escape relativity that states time as the infinite, how ill intent, how little intelligence, how will the self malism be content?

It isn’t ours, don’t think of it as delusional hours, or a bounds of inconceivable notions. Instead think that a dream merely is us trying to speak to me.

I don’t dream of perfect love.

I dream of effortless love.

The kind that reaches for me before I have to ask.
The kind that steals a kiss from my neck as you pass behind me.
The kind that wraps itself around me in a long, lingering embrace, as though letting go would be the hardest thing in the world.

I want the quiet language of wanting.

Your hand finding mine.
Your eyes finding me across a crowded room.
Your laugh becoming softer when it’s just the two of us.

I want to come home and find your clothes carelessly left behind, your panties resting on the floor like a whispered promise that tonight isn’t about routine—it’s about us. About choosing each other with the same hunger, the same tenderness, the same certainty as if we were falling in love all over again.

I want affection that doesn’t wait to be requested.
Desire that doesn’t need permission.
A love that reaches first.

Because love isn’t only spoken.

It’s the warmth of your lips against my skin.
The comfort of your body beside mine.
The silence between heartbeats where everything that matters has already been said.

I don’t long for perfection.

I long to be chosen without asking.
Wanted without wondering.
Loved without doubt.

I prefer the quiet

Have to be all things to everyone

No body thinks about how it drains you

They don’t care how it stains you

They only take and don’t maintain you

I can abstain you

Say all the things so I can retain you

They don’t care if it even drains you

Our story, yours and mine,

Never came to completion, my love.

Living each moment

Has become unbearable without you.

All these intoxications mean nothing

Compared to your eyes.

I don’t go home anymore—

I stay outside, waiting for you.

Come into my dreams,

Adorned in all your beauty.

Why do I fail to come back to my senses?

Why does this heart find no peace?

Why should I break the promises I made—

That I would never love like this again?

If I turn my face away from you,

I won’t be able to meet your eyes again.

The world can see my pain,

Why can’t you?

Beloved, the way you shy away—

It could take my life.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear,

What can I even say about it?

Cruel one, your playful pride—

Its impact is beyond words.

I sit here holding my wounded heart,

Afraid I might lose it completely.

What do your eyes say to mine?

There is faith flowing within them.

A little willing, a little distant—

They live somewhere in between.

People in this world are harsh,

I have seen betrayal in them.

This world may not be yours,

But in you, I have seen modesty and grace.

Living has become unbearable without you.

All these intoxications mean nothing

Except your eyes.

I don’t go home anymore,

I stay outside, waiting for you.

Come into my dreams,

Adorned in all your beauty.

Our story, yours and mine,

Still remains incomplete.

Even in a closed room, alone,

I still see your shadow.

Everyone asks me

Why I don’t speak anymore.

There are so many beautiful faces here,

Yet my heart feels nothing.

If I don’t see you,

The day doesn’t even begin.

This heart wants to give love,

Yet fights everyone for no reason.

Just as colors blend into one,

That’s how we will meet.

Just as flowers bloom,

That’s how we will bloom together.

Our story, yours and mine,

Still remains incomplete.

Living each moment is unbearable—

All intoxications are meaningless.

Even alone in a closed room,

I remain outside, waiting.

So many beautiful faces around,

Yet none compare to you.

If I were to rend the flesh off my bones, could I sculpt myself into someone you’d love?

If I were to carve your name into every corner of my mind?

If I were to build towers of words and palaces of promises, would you love me then?

If I were to weave your essence into the fabric of the universe?

I would have done all that and more.

If you had just loved me.

Neck high, heels low, invisible to society.

Not conforming, stereotype, female reality.

Pretty, thin, jaw, cheeks, smile; set.

Short skirt, low shirt, lots of leg; check.

Over-sexualised, skin, skin, skin.

Jaws dropping, mouths drawling - we are women.

Personality? Not needed. Glassy eyes, a white grin.

Not telling but suggesting, the difference wearing thin.

Attention standing, trouser tent - your new Jane doe.

Conformity is normalcy, until no stops meaning no.

In my fully clothed condition, less skin- Be smarter.

Blame me for the lessons - taught by my father.

He wore a shirt. Had on some jeans. No one ever asked.

All while I am taught - to keep my body masked.

*I don't know which shadow weighs more:*

*The ghost of everything I am not—*

*that I wish I was;*

*or the weight of everything I am—*

*that I wish I could shed.*

*Either way,*

*I’m haunted by a stranger.*

I'm air and you're thick black smoke.

We couldn't be more different.

Yet, I'd pull you into my lungs and hold you there till my body choked for breath.

And still I'd try to hold you in just a little longer, let the carbon singe, leave it's mark, so I know you are real.

Every breath after the exhale, a reminder that the room we stood in could make me feel.

I'm the turning of the clock, and you... standing outside of time.

We'll never meet, flesh and skin.

Bodies entwined is a concept that only survives in my mind.

You, quiet observer, charming me with your attention.

Watching the clock as it winds down slowly from your safe position.

You are darkness, I am light.

The closest to an embrace we can get is when our edges touch.

Until I zoom out, and see that you've been surrounding me,

Holding me safe my entire existence.

I make the darkness less alone.

stay the smoke, stay the observer, stay the darkness.

We'll make each other feel like home.