Rage Poems
"the process of removing toxic substances"
by Soulayma A.
Why do I write?
.
Is that because writing is the act of being alive as Ryad said?
Even when I cannot breathe, I can write what suffocates me before my heart stops beating. I would point to the sun and make my last poem out of rays instead of words.
Is it because I’m still not healed yet?
But how much does it take? Three years of medication, 3 thousand words per month, 3 colors of dying, 6 new haircuts. I’ll break the record if I kept changing, I’ll break the record but I will not be healed.
Is it because, I write cuz I can do nothing about my rage, the rage that I don’t even recognize?
Writing is my "detoxification", but what if I was made of poison? When will I be healed?
......
I'm tired..
by Anshika Srivastava
I'm tired
Tired of my bruises
Tired of these fake kisses
You give me every night
After dragging me to hell,
After ripping my heart into shreds
But not letting a single tear shed
Down my cheeks,
Cause you vowed to my dad
That you'll make my dopamine reach peaks..
......
Rage & Regret
by Zee K
In a whirlpool of emotions
None of which that can describe
My current frame of mind
Letting me get lost in this trepidation
Vicious words slowly tumbled off
Making me anxious enough
Truth be told none of it would matter
If one shall retreat and forget
But patience isn't the quality I possess
......
Warrior
by Elizabeth DeLucey
Warrior
It was a warrior
The one meant for battle
But there was no war being fought
And what is a warrior without a war?
It didnt know the answer
All it knew was anger
All it knew was rage
The never ending pain that entered its soul
It needed the fight
......
In Remembrance of My Lost Angel
by Carl Halling
I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
As life nears its final page,
The hard times that come with age,
It’s enough to make a good man rage,
But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
By eyes that look back filled with pain,
At my lost angel.
......
Rage against the world we live in
by Mario Odekerken
Steel skies and concrete lies,
we march beneath fluorescent eyes.
Truth is sold and silence bought,
justice rots,while power's sought.
But in our fists,the fire stays-
a spark that cuts through darkest days.
We scream,we fight, we won't forgive-
we rage,because we dare to live.
Let go !
by Ghairo Daniels
LET GO (Song )
Let go of multi-coloured cloaks
of roaming rage, of gloat
see frothy waves let go
wild, naked...just so, just so
Mountains watch our fields of
......
Now That
by Ghairo Daniels
NOW THAT
Now that the struggle exists
in commemoration meetings in museums
Now that soldiers can play with their dogs
Now that our heroes sing hymns in heavens
Now my love is even !
As the aspiring write story or song
or mothers play ping-pong too long
......
Tungsten
by matthew ramsey
I wrap myself
The strongest thing
Tungsten
For it protects my fragile self
Weak from isolation
Weak from degradation
Yet even my weakness
I strive; I push
......
"the process of removing toxic substances"
by Soulayma A.
Why do I write?
.
Is that because writing is the act of being alive as Ryad said?
Even when I cannot breathe, I can write what suffocates me before my heart stops beating. I would point to the sun and make my last poem out of rays instead of words.
Is it because I’m still not healed yet?
But how much does it take? Three years of medication, 3 thousand words per month, 3 colors of dying, 6 new haircuts. I’ll break the record if I kept changing, I’ll break the record but I will not be healed.
Is it because, I write cuz I can do nothing about my rage, the rage that I don’t even recognize?
Writing is my "detoxification", but what if I was made of poison? When will I be healed?
......
