I’d rather hurt, than be like you
Do you feel? Is it possible for you to understand pain?
So flawless, protected, always kept safe from injury
Can you conceive of being tattered, left to remain?
How are you supposed to even comprehend me?
I strike at you with words intending to move you
Yet you stare mindlessly indifferent while I scream
Do we all bleed the same? I don't think that we do
Life comes with hurt, you have no idea what that means
The End of The World
On the day the world ends
I wear a crown
And you wear an eyepatch.
We sit on our roof and watch the
City burn.
The cockroaches put on
Party hats,
And the birds whistle the
Ending credit theme,
As they shake soot
From their feathers.
On the day the world ends
The sun screams as she
Melts into a purple sky.
The stars wink silver
And the moon weeps blue
Until all the colors
Blend together.
On the day the world ends
We all bleed the same.
I tell you that it's the most
Beautiful thing
I've ever seen.
You trace your finger along
The smoldering shingles
And write "I know"
Into the ashes.
riptide
He wanted to go deep
my anxiety soared
He wanted to follow the ball
past the breakers
He started
We all
inhaled
When his head
was the size of a
spot in the eye
And then no more
the cries began
the agonies
for the boy
who would not stop
until the sea ate him whole
2 days later
the sea
spat him out
and we
All the ones who still bleed
looked no more
The sea is the same.
A Common Cut
Her soft eyes cut me
Standing there all perceptions of imperfections and predisposed notions of what this world is to me are scorched away in the warm inferno glow of her corona.
Thin brown hair rippling like low tide
Flawless in her sundress as she spins in the daylight and laughs away my somber darkness and dares the stars to burn brighter.
Gentle fingers moving lightly through the air
Fearing that my damaged touch will make them rough and that my wounds will become her scars and the pure light that she radiates will be eclipsed and her white snow will be stained red.
But she has cuts of her own
She smiles as she bleeds and soothes my scrapes and shows me that if life is the razor then love is the tourniquet and that the collective bloodletting of humanity pours from its common cut and this
That we two, we too, we all bleed the same.
Composite
Lying against this bed of pines and shriveled stones,
I have come to the conclusion
that life is inevitably sweet and divine yet treacherously pure.
Events dancing like broken shells and bits of soot and brown
falling against the ground, welding into place.
Skies drifting about like mangled tongues
stripped and devoured
thrown against and through,
a greenish ritual of utmost beauty and grace.
Birds with beaks as glass pitchers
holding beds of water as stimulative as they are simulated.
Yet who am I to spew such parsing diction?
I am but a yearning heart sprawled over like a corpse
hanging from a bridge, hands nailed to the concrete
yet breathing scarlet-blazed cause and not boiled reason.
My rivers flow empty with clear tubes
and subtle worthless meanders that crisp and thrash so silently.
I am but a stringed mass
A pale pendulous body wandering about, wondering.
An individual with thoughts of stillness,
feeling trapped and caged,
lying here alone as one: a composite whole, a singular projection,
distant from others by lunges and clouds of colorless, virgin terrain.
Yet we all bleed the same, don't we?
I am anything but the needle in a stack of grain.
We all embody this ambiguity, this frailty, this solitude.
This intimacy.
We are all somewhat of able-bodied streams of ire.
Prussian blue shades of boisterous life.
Lax and lustrous shades of death.
Shrewd and wine-like shades of time.
An aging pack of tinted blotches.
A withered, elegant frame.
And a painting of skies and flames waltzing about,
filling each others missing pieces
like a liquid so generously takes the shape of its container.
Blood of a Soldier
Drips the crimson blood from his wounds,
And deepens the colour of earth.
His eyes are hollow, so much death he has seen,
He was not a killer by birth.
But today his body hangs in shreds
Barely tied up at the girth.
Neither he is a budding revolutionary
Nor an arsonist with a twisted stand,
He is a simple family boy
Dutifully serving his motherland.
His torso lying on the Reeves sleeve
Just ready to hear the bagpipe band.
He is a soldier with no caste or creed,
For some he doesn't even have a name,
Apolitical and no vested interests to plead,
He suffers the most in this game.
All because we deny the ultimate truth ...
That WE ALL BLEED THE SAME !
We All Bleed the Same
The world is a cooking pot
And it is bubbling over with hate.
When has hate ever driven out hate?
When has war driven out war?
Racism is plaguing the country
With fascists at power.
Homophobia is plaguing the country
With 50 LGBT shot down.
In the end, we all bleed the same.
We all are human.
"Hate cannot drive out hate.
Only love can do that."
Jihad
I was eight when I first felt
The cold metal between my hands
Felt the power that was mine
For joining the holy war
I was eight when I was told
Of the enemy we faced
Cold, calculating, ruthless
And determined to exterminate us
No matter the cost
I was eight when I went
On my first mission
Penetrating deep into enemy territory
Seeking out the filthy beasts
Who were not noble and just
Like us
Who deserved to die for their polluted ideology
That would corrupt our people
If we did not strike first
I was eight when I first stood
In front of the enemy
A child no older than myself
And was told by my commander
To blast her to the depths of Hell
For what she represented
And what she would one day become
I was eight when I complied
And riddled her with holes
Praised by my commander
But confused in the moment
By her oozing corpse
And the realization that
We all bleed the same
#bleed #poetry #amwriting
