You should never attack a poet, by DearPoetry, literature
Literature
You should never attack a poet,
we are the best at exploiting weakness.
the night you took a scalpel to my chest
& fed my heart to the stars,
you told me i could hate you
if i needed to.
with an exorcism
i tried to cast you out
of my body.
i was contorted limbs:
the language of tongues
trying to find myself
in the cosmos
of lit kerosene fingertips,
& the kinds of habits
that only choke me at 3am -
when my eyes aren’t yet heavy
enough for sleep;
my mind tells me to do awful things.
between fucking &
i-don’t-know-who-i-am-
anymore,
you are the calories
in the mathematical equation
scribbled &
scratched out
of me.
i think of shy moons
an
Other boys tell me
I’d look best
disheveled,
firmly pressed
against
their skin.
& they know
I am girl-
from the curve of my hips,
to this jutting collarbone,
lonely of love bites
& bruises.
But, your hands shape
falsities out of my limbs
with a tongue speaking of me
in riddles;
Isabella,
Christine.
Why do I allow your body
to find rest against these bones
when you don’t even recognize
the taste of my moon skin
between your teeth?
I see my words,
My thoughts,
My actions,
Like a poison setting in,
And I know
There is no way to right them,
No way at all,
The way they should be righted.
This monster inside me,
It's growing,
Feeding on the pain I cause others,
Feeding on the pain I cause myself,
It will consume me soon,
And I am not sure
That I can stop it,
I'm not sure that I want to
Anymore.
The waves shake
The ground breaks
The sun rises and falls
The water quakes
The island makes
A shrill, heartbreaking call.
The wind sighs
The sky flies
The earth is torn in strife
The flowers die
The children cry
Now is the end of life.
Here are your dead, where are your lost?
Too much upon the ocean tossed.
Make them a grave, dig it in sand
All in one hole (they'd understand).
No time, no money to be found,
Gasps of weeping-a common sound.
So why will someone not help here,
An island of relentless fear?
Maguindanao Massacre by tina-go-lightly, literature
Literature
Maguindanao Massacre
Bury his limbs in broken dreams
Where the ground turns murky with blood
Kill she who dared to write the screams
Of a nation powered by lust.
Gut them with fire, pierce their lungs
These people who dared to observe.
Mark the usurper with your guns
Here's what the audacious deserve.
Shoot not to kill (at first), good men
First torture and maim then destroy
Take pleasure from any of them-
Living or dead, they're only toys.
It was raining
It was pouring
My old man was upstairs snoring
I looked outside
I watched the rain
I saw the lightning strike again
And when it flashed
My life went past
My old man never noticed...
Wake up. Wake up!
Wake up from your slumber!
Look around you! Open your eyes!
Can't you see what's happening?
If you open your eyes, I am sure you can.
Can't you see the devastation of nature's wrath?
Or how about the damage of terror?
Or the disease that plagues our world? Or the famines?
How about the people who lost their lives to war,
The bleeding children and dying women?
Surely you see this?
But, look closer. Do you see the emptiness behind that fake smile?
Or that lack of emotion behind the empty laugh?
How about the fear covered by words of courage?
Or those that need help but too afraid to ask?
Those who dread and run,
Why is it that when you come back into my life,
My heart feels ready to explode?
I loved you once; but not today,
Yet you continue to tempt me to the very edge.
You know every part of me, much more than him now;
It takes you but a few words to bring me back,
And you know too well how vulnerable I am to you.
I'm hurting; full of guilt and reminders,
And just when I seem to heal,
I come crawling back and you deliver me evil.
You were a part of my past, my dark past,
Yet you seem to follow me, like a reckless shadow.
But I guess you can never run from something so full of sin and lust.
I once would have given anything to stay with
For thousands of years,
My soul has walked the earth.
It has felt passion and love,
As much as it has seen blood and tears.
Every body my soul has become,
Has lived a different life,
Over come different things.
But one thing was shared during each life,
Something so special,
So pure & fragile;
My other half.
Whether it had been a short encounter,
Or a life's gesture,
My soul in each life was able to see,
The one it lived for.
I shall never know who I once was,
The great things I did,
Or the wrongs I made,
But I do know that he was the greatest part of my every life.
He was the one thing death could not take,
The one thing