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Like [30 Mar 2014|01:19pm]

wordinthemirror
Like
on scattered words
in the space-time continuum,
my legs are wandering
on the stripes of a highway.

after the sonic boom
the bellowing pain,
on the dark coffee grounds,
I regret my life.

in a grotesque cycle
the last beat,
in our rushed minutes
the pulsating vision,

a caring mother treats
her tired child,
the loneliness covers me with a suffocating blanket.
1: bleeding words

Perspective (Poem) [22 Mar 2014|04:00pm]

rebelwaste
3-12.14

Perspective

If you were to explain anorexia
         To a starving African children
                   Their minds would explode

Not with amazement
Not from astonishment
Not because their brain cells
         Unable to contain such ideas
                   Were forced to evacuate their membranes

No

Their minds exploded
After the child right next to them
         Leveled
                   Their AK-47
                             Sending metal through the air
                             Through their minds
                             Displacing pieces of skull
                                       And brain

Blood displaced by metal
         Reminiscent of Archimedes
The metal crowns displacement of water
         Was worth its weight in gold

But the displacement of blood and soul
         By the metal bullet
                   Will never be worth more than a glaring reminder
                             That what we see as the crown of our problem lives

Is worth less than the vomit we project
         into the toilet bowl
                   of our modern bathroom society

Their minds exploding from the rat-a-tat-tat
         Of the tool of tyrants
                   Held in the arms

Of the child soldier right next to them
words

Media Diet (Poem) [15 Feb 2014|12:02am]

rebelwaste
2/7/14

Confection>Starvation and Slavery

Confection is now society’s perfection
The Spike in my Veins is the fascination
Reason and truth are replaced by fashion and thrones
               That we put celebrity on
                       And then devour whole

But then we complain that our shit stinks
               That it’s too hard to expel
Well yeah
Our diet consists of no vegetables
               Only meat sacrificed to false idols

The E that’s our drug is not the ecstasy pill
               It’s the E entertainment news
                               And dehydrated swill
Being told what we want
Instead of what we need
               Like a child refusing green food
                               Our obesity is both physical and mental greed

When will we realize that children starving
               Trumps the relationship status of people who              
                               May adopt the starving
                                               But don’t even know your name


When will we realize that the concerns of the world
               Trump the rebellion on teens
                               Who are child slaves till they reach 18
                                               Then they are like survivors of the gladiators ring
                                                               Getting DUI’s
                                                                               Drunk on their own 151(proof) self-im-port
words

Their Story [23 May 2013|09:08pm]

hayla99
There was this girl once, well a woman really. She fell in love, but she never knew it until it was too late. Now, you’re gonna look at me and say, “haven’t we heard this one before?” You may be right, but she was a special girl, she lit up the room and made everyone smile. She listened to your tears, wiped away your pains, and turned your world around. She was pure magic.

One day she met a boy, but more of a man. This boy turned her life around, though neither of them realized. He was intense and childish all at once. He had a way of looking into her soul with one deep look and expose all of her vulnerabilities. He had a way of taking those vulnerabilities and telling her that they were ridiculous. He had a way of making her feel like he really meant it when he said she could do anything and everything. He made her feel like he actually saw her as the woman she was and could become. He was pure strength, though he never realized it.

Now, they started out as friends, as all good relationships are wont to do. They learned about each other slowly. He learned that she wasn’t all sunshine like everyone believed. That her interests were vast and expanding. He learned that she was honest and genuine and only hid things when she didn’t want the world to see she was upset, though he claimed he can see through that act. He claimed she wasn’t a very good actor. She learned that he kept things to himself, but every once in a while he would let things through to her. She relished those moments not because of the information but because it meant he was letting her in. She learned that he put on this front of not caring and indifference, when in reality he was all heart. He claimed he was no good; she knew different.

Don’t get me wrong though, this story wasn’t all fairytales. She had her insecurities, she had been used too often. She was told by many guys that she was amazing only to be left in the dust once they’d gotten their way. She’d been made to feel worthless, stupid, and unloved. He had been hurt so badly that he never wanted to love again. He had been lied to, cheated on, and taught that he wasn’t a good person. Each of them knew better of the other, but because of these hurt feelings they never gave it a real go.

But that doesn’t mean that these feelings for each other went away. He continued to make her smile. He tried to ignore her and the feelings. He still made her laugh. She tried everything in her power to let him know that she was still there. She attempted to make him laugh or smile every day, even when she had no idea if it worked. And then there were those magical moments, the ones that only happen once in a while. That moment when a man becomes a boy. That moment when looking at each other made them giggly, befuddled, and tongue tied. She couldn’t help smiling; he couldn’t help running away. She decided to try harder even with no response other than that one moment.

In that moment she remembered all those moments they had together. She remembered the passionate way he kissed her. She remembered the way her heart melted when he woke up and came looking for her with just a bit of fear in his voice when he had found her. She remembered the moments he opened up to her, the moments that he looked deep in her eyes and it scared her because it made her feel. She remembered the whispered promises that even he was too scared to truly voice. She remembered the laughter, midnight talks, and nights of sleeplessness because she couldn’t get him out of her mind, though she still can’t get him out of her mind. She remembered the moment when he said he’d do anything for her. She remembered the moment when he said that she already fell; she remembered her confusion because it sounded deeper than the moment called for. She remembered him saying goodbye, the reason why, and the promise she made that she would always be there.

And she always will.

Now, the story isn’t over; heck, it’s barely begun. But I’m still not sure either of them realize it, not fully, not truly. Maybe one day they will. But she made a promise. And he made a promise. Maybe one day they’re promises will unite and their story can truly begin.
words

my truth [07 May 2013|12:50am]

hayla99
i am not strong.
i am not unbreakable.
i cry,
i live,
i die,
mostly by your side.

i am not strong,
though i pretend,
though i try.
i bleed with every cut
you inflict upon me,
though my smile
hides the tears in my eyes.

i am not strong,
yet i will say i am steel,
i will throw on armor,
accept your punch,
take your pain within my soul,
and squash it away,
keep it hanging for another day.

i am not strong.
wine is my savior,
laughter my delight,
smile through my lacerations,
a torture device of delight.

i am not strong,
though no one truly sees,
the strength it takes
to hold on to the facade
that hides my pain,
anguish,
lack of faith
or belief
in what people say is the amazingness of me.

i am not strong,
my words of self confidence
are an actors best tools,
a beggar's last try
for scrapes of that strength.

i am not strong,
though you will it to be.

i am not strong,
i am only just me.
1: bleeding words

Noir [07 May 2013|12:36am]

hayla99
a shot rang out.

hope glittered on the pavement,
a mixture of stars
and tears
and fears
colored with crimson wine.

click
clack
click
shuffle
click
clack
click
shuffle
before the sirens roar.

a shot rang out.

the victim
disappeared.
only his heart remained,
soaked upon the silver cement,
like a toy
reluctantly left behind.

scratch
smack
smack
smack
shuffle
sigh
a passerby's cigarette lit to the sky.

a shot rang out.

lights flash
blue
red
blue
purple
footsteps recede
as footsteps approach,
words
and voices
high
and low.

a shot rang out.


a baratone's growl.
a look of despair.
the victim is gone,
crimson wine stains the air.

a shot rang out,
but nobody cared.
words

No More [19 Aug 2011|03:19am]

evangelion_100
I am going to stop publishing my poems on communities because I am going to try to get them published in journals. Pretty much every journal requires that the work not be published in any form anywhere, including being found by Googling it. Thanks to those who have read/enjoyed anything I've written. If I'm correct, after about 6 months of trying a bunch of different journals I should get nothing but rejection slips. When I feel like giving up, which should be around the 6 month mark, I'll start posting again. Wish me luck.
words

Limits [18 Aug 2011|05:08am]

evangelion_100
Walking down a busy avenue
on a summer evening I see
people
walking past, out of the
corner
of my eye

but I do not look
directly at them,
into their
eyes

Social norms dictate
that one should not
look
into a stranger's
soul

I politely ignore
the stream of people
passing me by
under the burning summer sun

I don't acknowledge them,
their existence,
but I see
them

I stop
to have a cigarette
and as the smoke curls
and dances
in the sunlight,
then moves into the shadow
of the brick buildings
nearby

A woman
stops and
looks
directly at me,
she looks right where my eyes
should be
in this skull
as she walks
past

She looked right
at
me,
but I'm still not sure
that she
really
saw
me.
words

Genetics [18 Aug 2011|04:58am]

evangelion_100
I never knew my father,
he beat my mother and
left
when I was 6 months old
I don't even know what he looks like.
He could walk into the room
right now
and I'd have no idea
that he was partly responsible
(in the loosest sense
of the word)
for my existence.
He hasn't spoken to me since
and he probably never will.
but my
dad
is an extremely kind man
who would give you the shirt
off of his back.
he would give his
life
for those that he
loves,
whatever that means.
he has a temper
that's set off by trivial things,
recalcitrant nails
and disobedient things
that he tries to fix
bring curses and rage.
I think it's because
he is haunted
by demons from his youth.

but he
is still
a decent man
though now sober
and a bit of a
recluse

My mother is a strange woman,
hypocritical,
and also has a short temper,
but full of love
for all her children

She is very strong,
too strong,
I think that sometimes
it seems that she
consumes
herself
violently
with her past
but will not admit it.
she is not terribly fond
of very many
people

she has glued herself
together
with pieces of the present
and reluctant
shards
of my father,
drowning me
in the chaos
of her repair

They are both frozen
as people
unable to change
anymore

I guess in their own ways,
they're both still
young
at
heart.
words

City (Ashes) [18 Aug 2011|04:36am]

evangelion_100
What is this monstrous, sprawling thing
that devours the earth?

here, where
dreamers dream
and dreamers die

lights come on
and lights go out
as the passengers
sway
away
while the dogs bark
at the moon
with angry remorse

liars lie
and liars wait
for another moment
to devour,
they subsist
off of
loneliness
and the black and white
world
that this
city
creates effortlessly
this place,
that we call
our
home

the blistering lights
break the many
and they dance
with their pain
unknowingly
through the days
and through the
nights
until their skin
wears thin
and the illusions
are wide-eyed

but still
nothing changes
nothing moves
though
the whores of abstraction
come back
to me
and ask for just a little bit
of mercy
just a momentary lapse of
memory
to save
their quivering hearts
just one second's
hesitation
before passing judgment

but mercy
was never something
to be given
by this beast
of concrete and metal,
ash and electric expansion.
impersonal madness
that leaves
its denizens
enchanted by
its cobweb wires
and dazed
by its quotidian tragedies

and takes
what you
never thought you could give,
what you never thought
you had

What is this monstrous, sprawling
thing
that devours the
earth,

What is this grotesque colossus,
this
sprawling, devouring
thing
that swallows
us
all?
words

Bloody Tongue [15 Aug 2011|05:15pm]

evangelion_100
I never have the courage
to tell people
their faults
when they ask
me

Their congenital dullness
or misplaced and wasted hatred
(packaged and sold
to others
as something
of value)
that drains their self
of what little life
they are given

I find it too hard
to point out
that their soul
is full of ugliness
that it is dark
and wrinkled
despite their outward appearance
of youth
and beauty

they are little
broken
children,

in self-denial
of their ignorance,
selfishness,
and self-righteousness

walking
lacerations
that poison
what little
real life
they encounter,

yet
so many
are sure
of their worth
of their goodness,
when they are rotting
so rapidly
that it pains me
to watch.

The sheer irrelevancy
of most human beings
can be staggeringly disheartening
sometimes,
life has overwhelmed them
without their knowledge
and now they walk the earth
in their awkward shells

even the best of us,
the few,
are not without
debilities

(I have no qualms
tearing myself
into pieces
displaying my tattered and rusty
innards
for the world.
listing my innumerable faults
but perhaps
that is the difference;
because I can destroy myself
in front of others
I can restructure
rebuild
recreate
and change

most of us
don't know
how
or simply don't
want
to

though
it seems to me
that as of late
my heart is static,
the ocean's waves
are too powerful
and I am just a sinking
heap
of burning garbage,
sinking
beneath all the other
trash
that searches for
bottom

I am just a reflection
of light
I am a bitter anachronism
looking for a different time
I am an invisible antique,
a misplaced relic
I am just a single spark
tossed into the sun.
I am, I am, I am, I
am.)

But
I am no fool,
I
will
bite
my tongue

better a silent
coward
than a dead
one.
words

Memory 4319 [14 Aug 2011|12:30pm]

evangelion_100
A memory of
you
came back to me today
a little too brightly:

on a summer night
you,
drowning in
life

A woman's tears
are the worst thing
it tears the walls of life
violently down
around you
the world shrinks
and is consumed
by sorrow
you hold her
and can't
let go
because you feel
that if you did
she might shatter
like some china doll
carelessly,
mercilessly,
thrown to the floor
and you feel
that you might
too

her vulnerability
starkly painful,
madly biting
any words
you might try
to speak

Her trembling
shakes the breath of your soul
and freezes
it
rapidly,
sickeningly

After all these
years
that have passed

I still don't know
why
she wept
just

How.
words

What Is Not Mine (Long Wait) [14 Aug 2011|12:20pm]

evangelion_100
my poetic muse
has been
violently
awakened
but what cause?
what thing
pricked her
with a needle
in the heart
and opened
her mind;
split it
in two
letting the melodies
of diction
and syntax
escape
so that these
thoughts
came forth
and melted
onto this paper
to drip
onto my quivering and grateful
hands,

she dreams
and I breathe
with relief.

the cause
is irrelevant
so long as she
speaks
to me
I can dream,
I can speak
with a voice
that matters
to me,
even if not
to anybody
else

she is my blood
my life
my god
my breath
she sustains me
in a world
of thieves
and liars

and here I am
the greatest thief
of all
stealing the very essence
of life
from her
to selfishly keep my
sanity
(here in the dark night
surrounded by these
four walls
I rule this kleptocracy
of one)
words

On The Proper Usage Of Applause (Protests In A Forgotten Country) [12 Aug 2011|07:48pm]

evangelion_100
Hands come together
to congratulate
to commend
and praise,
applause
for failure
and lack of compassion
greed
and inhumanity,
for this authoritarian
bastard
that grips them all
bloodily
without their assent

Only hundreds
but the noise
of their applause
deafens
those who
would hear
bolstered
by courage
but not the courage
of words,
the courage
of will
and action
of knowing
that you will be dismembered,
hacked
then burnt
until what is left
of them
is unrecognizable
as
human
or even
something
that once
lived

something
that chose defiance,
justice,
and freedom
and paid the
dearest price

Here
where I live
I hear people complain
about mundanities
and offer
such frighteningly sincere
applause
for what is usually nothing more
than a pitiful attempt
at so much garbage

speeches,
poems,
novels,
governments,
films,
television,
all are given
such unknowingly idiotic
applause
while these fearless
souls
in a forgotten corner
of the world risk
everything
for the meeting
of their two hands

They stand
so tall,
so very tall
yet so
few
see them
words

Red Wine [11 Aug 2011|06:59pm]

evangelion_100
I've always been fond
of red wine,
its deep crimson colour,
the colour of blood
of life
and the grinding of teeth, blessings and religion, anger and release, of safety
and the immutable soul
and,
I'd imagine,
the colour
of your halo,
little demon

With
sour lips
of divine retribution
dragging
behind the
years

using forced maniacal laughter
to claw at
reality

intellectualizing every mundanity
out of boredom
or,
perhaps,
as a distraction
which,
of course,
would be
much worse

burning crosses
in your old house
to pass the time

torturing yourself
now
as you used to torture
others

but you were never that
important
always bitterly abhorrent
of most people,
slowly drowning in it
now
making your way to
the end

Well,
at least you got
something
right
words

Momentary Redemption [11 Aug 2011|06:46pm]

evangelion_100
She smiled
and came
to me
laid next to me
let me touch
those thighs,
good god!
she let me
inside

this ugly ghost of a
man
disfigured
and discarded
but she
let
ME
inside

gave me her breasts
and hushed
moans
her legs
and hair
those eyes
and her pleads
for more
and got me drunk
off of her skin
until we both
forgot
how we got there
and we forgot
how to
care

sometimes they came back
and
sometimes they
didn't

Being a bony
and rusty piece
of human junk,
it's always nice
to occasionally be made
gloriously alive
by a woman's
welcome
even if she
doesn't
come
back

but hey, I'll
take
what I can get
1: bleeding words

Words Won't Do [09 Aug 2011|09:53pm]

evangelion_100
I'm sure that
some people
wonder
why I'm reclusive
and solitary
why I spend
such an inordinate amount
of time
alone

They think it strange
and rather odd
that I wouldn't want
to spend time
with them
or some other thing
that they like to call
human beings

They find it difficult to understand
why I don't want to
spend my time
out in the world
with others
but I find
the fact
that after they have spent so much time in
this world
they still don't want
to be left peacefully
alone
terrifyingly odd
and dishearteningly fantastical,
it
tears all reason
and rationality
asunder

I know
that many
wonder why
so often
I sit alone
surrounded by these walls

Well,
if you have to
ask
I guess you'll never
really
know
words

So What? [09 Aug 2011|02:32am]

evangelion_100
I still fail to understand
why so many
can not speak of death
as if it was some plague
something to be denied and feared
with the utmost trepidation

But I will die
and in a casket I will lie
to be buried beneath the earth
and my flesh will decay
and rot
with time
my bones will crumble
into dust
and the memories
of me
will fade
until
there is nothing left
of me
in this world
and there is nothing for
me
afterward

the end
is probably
the end

so why all this morbid fear
of the inevitable
why stay silent
when silence is
our beautiful ending
to this lonely ride

Atheism is for idiots
and Christianity is for the hopeless
this spinning sphere
is for me

Despite all your
pleading
and scraping
clawing
and delaying
all your distractions
and assurances
as surely as you bleed
so you shall die

and in a coffin
you
will lay down
and your bones
will join your thoughts
in dust
beneath the earth
and the memories
of your life
will fade
with time
until there isn't a single
shard of evidence that you
ever were

the grim specter
of death will find you
and if emptiness
is all that follows
find beauty in it
as you do in life

The seconds pass:
like vines
they smother us
all
words

A Knowing Smile [09 Aug 2011|02:19am]

evangelion_100
It took 25 years
or so
to beat down this
devil
hanging off my neck
to break the little bastard's neck
and stop his incessant chattering

It took 25 years
of hell
to light
a fire in this heart
that wouldn't go out
to find some fight
that wouldn't break,
shatter
with contemptuous rapidity

It took 25 damned years
to understand,
truly understand
that I am human
and because of
that
I will always be a little
ugly
a little
misshapen

It took 25 goddamned
years
to stand on my own two crooked feet
and strangle regret
of every last breath
to embrace my
imperfection

so maybe
there is hope for
the lost
and pathetic
yet

or
maybe
there
isn't

All I know
is that after
25 long, long years
even with his crooked
little spine
that little
devil
still
smiled
words

The Seasons Of Youth [08 Aug 2011|02:46am]

evangelion_100
[The Exhumation of my youth]

Surrounded by fields
of golden wheat
glistening knowingly
in the sun
gently dancing
in the soft wind,
time spent
in an island forest
of decay and rebirth
(a little piece of typicality)

Foolish games
of childish simplicity
passed the time
as I dueled the thistles
that stood so tall and proud
(I was so sure
that they were my
enemies,
but they were really only
lonely guardians)

And the dirt roads
passed by the dirty ponds
forgotten by the children
of tomorrow
who can not cast stones
anymore

Winter's giant hands
would cover the land
as far as my little eyes could see
in a pristine and white blanket
of purity
for months
that drowned in time's heartless abyss
and blinded by the sun
I would run
through the snow
until the numbness
gave me wings

Then spring
would shred winter's blanket
with its munificent rain
and the days and nights
would come alive with
such fierceness
that it emptied your mind
(stuck in the eye of the storm
you couldn't justly appreciate
its power)

But fall
was always my favorite,
with its flurry of colours
and each colour's stunning and unique
incandescence
lighting up the oxygen
and your thoughts
as they gracefully fell through the air
(the beauty of death
and the anticipation
of rebirth
the branches on the trees bare
like skeletons)
That silence I felt there
as a child
holds me still
in these rusty days

and now there's all this
calloused superficiality
scattered about the hallways
of a new house

and strangers talk about the weather
endlessly
dreaming of a time
when they will wake up
(there's always something
between us)

There is thunder
in a homeless man's eyes
that I can see
from miles away
it shakes the earth
and it is worth more
than a million denizens
of this city
(here now
he watches in the twilight
from afar
the solemn burial
of my youth)
they reached towards the sky)
words

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