Confusion Poems
Morals
by Alana Alpres
In this world of capitalism's grasp,
Where wealth is worshiped and morals lapse,
I stand at a crossroads, torn between two fates,
One that feeds the fire, and one that breaks the gates.
On the one hand, I am tempted by the lure of success,
To climb the corporate ladder and fulfill my own excess,
But on the other, I hear the call of a different way,
A path of purpose and meaning, not just chasing pay.
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
life of a 14 year old.
by genesis riddle
its 1:47 in the morning.
i cant sleep.
i have no emotion, yet im overly stressed
i keep zoning out
letters are moving, the walls are shrinking
i feel like i cant get out of bed, but i can
my head doesnt hurt but its still pounding
i cant stop biting the skin around my nails
my heart hurts, it feels as if my chest were being punched.
......
white sparkling wine
by Ella Sophia
poor girl keeps getting haunted
deep in mind , she’ll done be screaming
all words rushed down throat
throughout left and above , nothing made sense
jostled yet stayed
pinned up against all crosses ;
she’ll be living solely in delusion
fantasy at twenties , be fearless they say ,
here in square-tinted blue room
one knees bent crying it all-out confines of
......
The Maze of Truth
by Lamar Yousif
Hello, I'm aiming to get better at writing poetry. So, I decided the best course of action was to write whatever came to mind to the best of my ability and then get personalized guidance rather than the generic and repetitive "helpful tips" I find on websites. Be as mean and brutal as you see fit, as long as it's honest and helpful. If you can, give me tips on what to name this thing, I think "The Maze of Truth" is a bit bland. Anyway, here it is:
The Maze of Truth
We all jump often, and leaves glide down, but birds are the ones with flight
Humans try so hard to dream away,
As from reality, we all try to flee.
......
Filled streets in an empty city
by Mario Odekerken
Crowds press forward,
but no one looks up.
The air is thick with motion,
yet nothing moves inside.
Screens glow in every hand,
faces flicker like fading neon.
Laughter echoes off glass,
hollow,as if borrowed from somewhere else.
......
Twisted Thoughts
by Mario Odekerken
In shadowed corners of my mind,
where whispers crawl and truth unwinds,
a tangle grows of fear and fire,
of silent screams and dark desire.
Hope twists like ivy,sharp with thorns,
of dreams left tattered,bruised and torn.
The past returns in broken frames,
each memory a whispered name.
......
Twisted Thoughts(Surreal Version)
by Mario Odekerken
I stitched a moon to my ceiling last night,
watched it bleed clock-hands into the floor.
The curtains whispered in forgotten tongues-
One said,"Your shadow isn't yours anymore."
Thoughts floated by in glass teacups,
sipping themselves into vanishing fog.
My mind-a hallway with melting doors,
each knob a blinking,mechanical frog.
......
white sparkling wine
by Ella Sophia
poor girl keeps getting haunted
deep in mind , she’ll done be screaming
all words rushed down throat
throughout left and above , nothing made sense
jostled yet stayed
pinned up against all crosses ;
she’ll be living solely in delusion
fantasy at twenties , be fearless they say ,
here in square-tinted blue room
one knees bent crying it all-out confines of
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
