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FriendsI'm a train wreck of smeared eyeliner
and rage.
My hands shake in silent agony
as i try to brush memories away.
Why cant I forget you?
Just one pill, then maybe twenty two.
Then you changed your face again,
and I felt my soul start to wither,
turning wrinkled and blue.
It stings like acid in my throat,
when i think of time well wasted with you.
Then came another,
and another infinite again.
A remote stuck on replay,
as you mended and became my closest..
Friend..
But you too left in turn,
changed face back to cruel ways,
but this time when I tried to stitch you back together,
you broke too tiny to glue.
...It tears me apart to admit this,
but
Does it matter if I need you oDoes it matter if I need you or if I don’t?
You are gonna leave anyway
Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow
Maybe not for a year or two
But you will
So it would be best if I not be dependent no?
Or should I just take advantage of you presence
Until it’s gone?
But then I would be so used to the warmth
That the cold would kill
That’s why I like to rinse myself with cold water
After a warm shower
So my body can get used to the cold
It was pretty therapeutic
But I am sure that my soul
Could not handle such a thing
Anymore than it already has
So I guess I’ll let it stay
In this crevice in the glacier
It’s not that bad an
The MirrorWhen I was little
the mirror would tell me I was pretty

despite the smudges of chocolate on my slightly pudgy cheeks, or wild frizzy hair
I grinned and looked at my mom and said I looked good.

As I grew up,
the mirror would say I still looked good
minus the chocolate stains on my chocolate milk complexion, poisoned sleek hair, and cheeks like the actresses had. I started to build my self esteem up and speak out
that didn't end well, but I was still pretty photogenic.

But what I failed to realize
was when the mirror started saying I was pretty, just not
pretty... enough.

I was becoming aware
of this sickness I was
Developing

I was becomin
BlakismesisThe girl who hates me:
Calls me a liar
and yet she,
with two hearts fluttering o'er her
with sly moves
who seduces,
but will not be seduced.
My best friend agrees
she is a liar
and yes
that stupid girl
has the audacity to
accuse me
of being
a woman
who tells of falsities.

If color were an emotion
i would be black for her.
She is
that fly in my soup
She
is that tag on my shirt
She
is that spiderbite on my arm
SHE
IS THAT CHURCH PROTESTING
AT MY
LESBIAN WEDDING!
....

When I warn those whose emotions
she taunts,
she becomes angry
offended
and writhes like the wicked witch
as Dorothy splashed water onto her.
Jess Scott said: "Hypocrites get off
DepartingThe worst part is over now, but I'm not out of the valley just yet.

My seat belt is buckled, my backpack and purse are underneath the seat in front of me, the tray is in the upright position as is my chair and, although this isn't on the flight attendant's speech of instruction, I'm clenching my teeth and gripping the arm rests and desperately thinking to inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale, because it WILL calm me down if I could only do it but of course

all I can do is think about what if we take a crash water landing and my seat cushion doesn't come out and I drown because I never learned to swim?
And my phone is already off and in my
NervousIt's unexplainable/The feeling of butterflies only so severe that they try to escape from the pit of your stomach taking everything you had for lunch with them/Or like the drop on the roller coaster where you look down and begin to regret the decision of getting on in the first place screaming at the maintenance man to PLEASE HELP ME GET THE FUCK DOWN only before realizing the only way of getting down is the drop/I've felt this feeling before/You must have too/It's nothing new/It's the feeling you got when you walked through the doors on your first day of school because you've never had to meet so many people at once and it's so terrifying/It
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Homecoming

:iconwarlocktheripper:

For thousands of years, we've lived on this sphere
We have live and loved, and spread hate and fear
But who here knows where life first derived
Could it be that our ancestry is inscribed
In ancient ruins and buildings and wonders
Whose riches and secrets our scientists plunder
Is it so possible that a long time ago
Space goers from another world bestowed
Everyone here with a heritage unknown
But by looking to the stars we can see where they've flown

Perhaps it is imagination that drives us
Or an essence of truth that we arrive thus
With these theories and ideas they must have been once imagined
Or based on truth of things that did happen
In the end it is all speculation
Of an idea as old as time
So fuck this bullshit with me trying to rhyme
Because if and when a planet arrives in our horizon
I will glance at it, in awe of it's glory and splendor
And if by chance, it contains some aspect of our ancestry
I look forward to finding out
Or maybe I am entertaining stupid crazy ideas

But at least they sure sound neat

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:iconwarlocktheripper:

Homecomingby !warlocktheripper

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What the fuck it wrong with me
©2009-2013 !warlocktheripper
Category: Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Urban & Spoken Word

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Submitted on
March 11, 2009
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:iconloconn:
!Loconn Mar 14, 2009
Nothing sounds wrong with you. You are wondering about the origins of life on this planet. Whether the knowledge can be gleamed from ancient civilizations, whether we are in fact descended from the rejects of an alien race. All theories must start somewhere so where is the basis on which this theory was built, is it rooted in fact. As you say it is all mere speculation.

I like this because it is just simple musings and thoughts, which in my opinion is what poetry should deal with, thoughts, feelings and musings.
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:iconwarlocktheripper:
!warlocktheripper Mar 14, 2009   Writer
Indeed. I happen to agree with you! Been reading a lot of stuff on planet x

Wondered if it was rooted in truth or not.
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