I swear he doesn’t want me around but I still find myself creeping On broken glass and bits of hope I find that he keeps leaving Like trails of honey, or bits of dew, each bit has me dreaming Of patching wounds, forgiving fails, and maybe keep on breathing On every word he’ll ever write since it always stops the bleeding Where in my heart, it beats for him, and love is always leading
Today is my WordPress anniversary! I’m not doing anything special to celebrate the day but I did take some snaps for you! With messy hair and a t-shirt. My basic, every day look. But now my hair looks messier than ever because my roots aren’t matching my drapes. BUT this is the year I am ATTEMPTING to love me as I am. And because I love me, I don’t want to put any more chemicals on my hair that I’ve been carefully growing out for nearly 3 years (the length of time I’ve been out of the Army). Once my ride is paid off, TATTOOS shall become me (I have 3 already). I would like some more piercings in my ears as well! Things I couldn’t do while serving honorably for 15 years!
I gave up lots of rights y’all probably take for granted. But now, I am attempting to enjoy those rights that y’all had that I didn’t have. And some folks don’t like that because it doesn’t serve their needs. But that’s okay too because this journey is teaching me who my real friends and family are. Who my real fans and supporters are. And exposing enemies wrapped like allies. And I appreciate those who allow me room to grow because there are many who are still holding onto versions of me that no longer exist. A narcissist may not be able to change but I can. I just wish I could forget a lot of the things they have done to me. Those things primarily being abuse. Anyhoo.
January 30th is my WordPress anny! HiI need foodz and coffeeeeePetite little thang but I love youuu
Thanks for the love and attention y’all. It’s non-existent in my real life. And dudes truly only care about the dirty gals. They pass me over like trash. They make me feel invisible and make me wish I had never been born… Or they are only interested in sex. Nothing more. Like, I’m a person with real feelings. But I’m either trash or a sex object, to them, that’s it. Depression is an understatement. What self-esteem? They’ve killed it. It’s a daily struggle to go on, to even want a purpose anymore. I can’t hide the sadness in my face any longer. Disappointment is an understatement. There are no words…
Except, I love you. Thank you for supporting me. For your follows. Your likes. Your re-shares. Your comments. Your pledges on my Patreon. Your encouragement. I need it more than ever now. You matter. ❤
First off, WOW, my blog hit 600 followers today and I think that’s a big deal. Especially considering I don’t follow the blogging rules, I’m not a social butterfly, I’m wild and awkward, I haven’t participated in any of the blogger award nominations, I actually read your stuff (as opposed to just hitting like on a flood of your post), and my comments can seem cold and off-putting, or instigating a bit, sarcastic or uncaring. Yo, all I can say is I’m a war vet and dealing with stuffs, loads of stuffs, communication in this phase of my life is hard. But I’m out here still trying to share who I am with you and you’re following me, and like that warms up my icy heart. And sometimes you guys leave me comments that really sink deep into my soul. I’m grateful for that and for you. Honestly your support has kept me going through this depression, I’d be lost without you.
Thank you for finding value in me when facing my family and discovering how toxic they were and how little value they actually had of me, especially after getting out of the army after serving honorably for 15 years. I literally had no support. You guys have seen me get emo, falter, fall, get back up again. You’ve let me share my writings with you, even the ones I was scared to share, which encouraged me to keep writing and to keep sharing. The poems in which I thought wouldn’t have much impact actually had more impact on others than the ones that I thought would carry more weight. Some I write as agony bleeds from my pen, taking careful time and precision, others I freestyle as if it’s the last rhyme I’ll ever write. Time is absolutely irrelevant when it comes to the quality of my poetry.
It doesn’t matter if I take an hour or 5 Seconds, the inspiration flows out all the same. It’s just the ones that are always painstakingly hard to write, aren’t always the ones that get the most attention. The ones that I desperately want people to like aren’t always the ones that get the attention. Or, the size of poem. It matters not. I’ve even pushed myself to write 10 word micro-stories and poems, 25 word micro-poems and stories, and 50 word poetry and stories, and you guys have took to all of them really well! And to be honest, it feels great when my mini stories are well-received because they aren’t easy to write. And all my poetry or stories always have a moral to them. A climax. A decline. A theme. An ending. Purpose. I give words purpose. That’s what I do. And in 200 years it very well may be my legacy.
But now is all that matters. I don’t just write for me anymore, I write for you as well. And by that I mean, you inspire me to keep going, to keep pushing through depression, self-loathing, regrets, sorrow, isolation, suicidal ideations, excessive crying, public mood swings, insomnia, rage, confusion, hate, and even unrequited love. Underneath all that you still see a person worth following. Thank you for reals. I see you. I love you.
P.S. I’m aware a recent poem probably hit really hard but they’re just words, I don’t really hate him, I actually want the best for him and love him and I wish he would actually try to get better and truth is I’m just trying to hurt him the way he’s hurting me. I don’t even want him to be blocked and I wish we were following each other’s blogs & Insta’s again. But, I haven’t got past my own insecurities and seeing him flirt with other girls hurts me to the core, like the very center, which seems to radiate everywhere else in me. And lately the hurt has been flowing out like hot magma, but hopefully when the rage cools down, crust will form over the Earth, flowers will bloom again. Because, the hate doesn’t stop making me love him. Death won’t even do that…
P.S.S. A big shoutout to all my Patrons who are supporting this blog, I am utterly grateful for your encouragement and pledges, you have no idea! I so value your support and your feedback, as a writer it’s invaluable, and the privacy of it allows me to have a “safe place” to write and grow with you. But also, I really need the bread money and your support means I can keep writing on this blog and writing is so therapeutic! It also holds me accountable, and gives my life purpose and meaning. Something many veterans struggle with after returning to civilian life. And I really am trying to give you a lot of value for your money, thank you for believing in me! And for pledging! ❤ I’m getting sobby again. I cry over everything but at least this one is a good cry. 😄
The bigger number, the one nearing 4K, that’s WordPress counting my Twitter and Facebook followers (I don’t think Insta is included in that data but I could be wrong).
If you dig my writing, you can support this blog by becoming a VIP patron on my Patreon campaign (my goal is 25 patrons, we’re 6/25) 😍: https://www.patreon.com/poeeternal
Tell me, how many do you love? Is it one, is it two, or maybe 12 from above? Tell me, who do you spend your time thinking of? Is it Sue, is it Penny, do I ever occur? Tell me, am I ever her? Is there anything about me that might make you stir?
He digs any gal with panties around their ankles. Which isn’t me. No, I’m not worth noticing at all because I’M NOT NAKED or age 13. He also needs a constant supply of “yes” people. He doesn’t live in reality. He’s delusional. And his entire life is literally centered around his cock. Every move. How will his cock get off? That’s it, that’s all he’s good for. Cumming. And not one baby… He’s basically the scum of the universe and I’m moving into the “I hate him” phase. Hey, this is HIS BED, NOT MINE. He can run and hide under another blog but he needs a spaceship to the nearest black hole. GET IN THE SEA NOW, TAKE ALL YOUR BROWN NOSES WITH YOU.
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I’d rather claw out my eyes than look him in the face And when it comes to heartache, I’d give him a taste If he were the last man on Earth, I’d disappear without a trace But when it comes to suffering, I’m still in first place
I’d cut out his tongue and replace his black mask I’d point him to sorrow and long may he bask Where demons grow hollow where angels come last And forgiveness is something he never will ask
I walk over streets frozen with fear I crawl through tunnels of bravery I’d travel an entire light-year To catch a moment of you How tall are words bleeding from your mouth I lick them and smear them over insecurities I wrap them with silence And tie a pretty bow over truth If only lies had butterfly wings And soft landings Were they short-lived And weightless Or sat bundled in a cocoon Per chance they were released in the night And lit up like fireflies Could we catch them easily?
You come waning through And full bring me to you Wide in my view Pulse quickens too
Anyone else obsessed with our moon? As a woman (and as of most things in nature), my cycles follow the Moon… life evolves and flourishes because of the Moon. So many mating rituals in nature itself, under her glow. And so I always see the moon as feminine energy. Or feel rather. We’re made mostly of water, I feel her tug. They say she’s spinning further away, and one day Earth will no longer be able to hold her. Yet on some days she feels closer than ever. Some dismiss her powers. I write about her alot in my poetry. My pets think the Sun goes to sleep at night, and the sky gets angry and cries. The wind is an entity too, especially in Florida with the hurricanes… BUT when I told my dog we needed the water the sky cries, I saw his mind expand I swear… 🤓
Anyhoo, I wrote this during that recent wolf moon we had. I have a lot of stuff I’ve started but haven’t finished. Some may never see the light of day. But even Edgar Allan Poe’s unpublished stuff wound up getting published. My words are my legacy really. And my words are the only thing I have control of right now. And I never know how many I have left. How many words have I used? What’s remaining? Nothing is infinite. Everything dies. I mean, one day, this fucking galaxy will be gone… poof. Vanished. Our existence completely annihilated. Dust. Bones. Gone. The only thing that matters is right now.
Sorry to get deep on you but it’s now 3 AM and I’m feeling socially deprived and chatty. ✌
And if you didn’t catch the double meanings in the poem, I was referring to how a certain person quickens me, and there’s a slight sexual reference in there. I always tell people art is subjective though including poetry so you get from it what you get from it. It doesn’t have to be what the writer wrote… ✌
Every tear begs to forget of his existence My heart still fights but I wish for resistance The longing now just feels like a sickness When love came about he left with a quickness
It’s like privacy becomes a crystal ball Yet who I am he doesn’t know at all Take his hand you’ll be sure to fall Will break your heart then hide behind a wall
Courage no it’s not a look for him Forgiveness now is looking very slim He haunts my heart like a phantom limb Show him light and he will show you dim
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It is a light, warm rain, so it doesn’t matter
And the moon tonight is full as are your lips
And your eyes are staring at me like I’m her
A feeling that I’ve never had occur
And the only sounds we hear are mostly beats
And it’s getting louder every time we breathe
There’s some danky music far away in the streets
And the rain is louder falling at our feet
The trees are gently sighing with the wind
I whispered in your ear don’t let it end
But I knew that you would ask so I said it again
And as I was repeating you made a grin
I gently started shaking in the rain
It’s like you just released me from my chain
Or maybe just release from all the pain
And tears were the main attraction at this stage
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I don’t understand this lesson How your actions leave me guessin’ And your heart’s not where it’s destined And your praise to her hits like a lethal weapon
I’m not blind, I have eyes to see And your poetry contains bits of me You’re running wild yet you’re never free But I’m moving on, without your poetry
It’s hard to count the many tears I’ve cried And even harder, the lies you’re living by I’d wish you well but then it’s me who lied And though I’m dead my love for you survived
I feel empty, like a hollowed shell Yet every tear has the weight of hell If I’m missed, I can never tell I know your love would get me feeling well
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Creature of the underworld…I don’t like heartbreaks…My heart is so heavy my eyes cryI still hurts after all this time…My hair is fookin’ long tho… almost as long as my regrets…
Cold in every manner Lost faith in ones who matter Still praying every hour Too many tongues that spit and chatter
Her words hit like a bomb I was no longer calm There was blood on my palm And I knew where the rage was coming from
Pray that every tear turns to a curse Hide the devil here inside this verse If he has a fear I’ll find what works Thought he was a monster but he’s worse
His failures are beautiful strokes of lightning The waterfall running A beautiful warning A star still forming A winter mourning
He falls like icebergs crumbling in the sea A white snowfall covering the trees The wind in the evening as you finally feel the breeze A moment of reckoning that brings you to your knees
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He says she’s perfect as a rose Pink is her flesh where she climbs and grows But does he know how deep her thorns can go? He makes her petals spread wherever he goes Her blooms so wide beg for control
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Maybe if he understood the need How longing is growing like a weed And in between the distance and the stars that truly listen I know he’d rather have me in the lead
Maybe if I took the time to plead And nurtured space like it was a seed The stuff that would be growing is the energy in knowing That fate will come to help us both succeed
Petite little thingSmall but mightyBroken yet whole No filter version me Have you joined my Patreon yet? What’s stopping you? Sign up is quick and easy!
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His words cover me like body paint The vowels flowing leave me faint Erasing darkness with a stroke of fate And momentarily how it’ll ease the ache The distance closes just an open gate A place where longing comes with no mistake Just one more rhyme is all it’ll take Forever his in the words we make
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Give her a house; she will need a moon Give her the stars; still won’t make her swoon Give her a song; still can’t suit her tune Give her the world; but to another she will croon
He’s a rainbow in a world of darkness He’s a miracle unearthed when planting a harvest He’s the comfort you seek when you’ve traveled the farthest He’s a road to a path where the truth can be harnessed
He’s the bloom that comes with the Sun He’s the thread holding you from coming undone Like satin slipping off the thumb He’s the reason the war was won
Hi y’all. For the first time ever I’m starting to share War Stories on my Tuners radio channel and the thread got a reply from Alexander Ebert!!! This might be the first time I’ve ever heard a guy say they want to hear my poetry, and it’s coming from my muse, stop the fucking press! 🤓 I was actually worried that it would be boring and a waste of time to share war stories, and maybe not the right time even but then I got a response from Alex and his reply is just amazing! I’ll have to scramble up my war poems but now I’m inspired to write an even better one. Talking about war is not something I normally do, but I’m starting to open up and share more on my Tuners so be sure you follow and tune in! It’s free to listen and use (you can even use it anonymously). I hope you give it a listen!
Sharing war stories of OEF/OIF on Tuners Radio, listen free here
Okay, initially I freestyle wrote this as a non-rhyme, but then tweeked it into a rhyme because he’s worth it. I really couldn’t get around the double word in the first 2 lines, so they remained untouched and as is. They were the basis for the entire poem. He’s my muse so he is a prompt. Like, just the mere sight of him. But then you should listen to the things he will say, or how his body will move. And I’ve lived all over the world, seen all kinds of boys, but none like him. He’s a miracle. Anyhoo, it’s just a poem, don’t freak out, I’m just writing what I see. He’s a lighthouse in the dark. I wanna focus on the light. It’s now after 4 AM. Another “after midnight poetry series”, I should make that a thing.
She’s part lightning and part thunder She’s the muse to make you wonder She’s the open field you wander She’s the kiss to make you hunger
She’s the truth you seek but fear to face
And the purity you long to taste
She’s the hand that knows how to heal an ache
And she’d give it all if that’s what it takes
She’s the rainbow you see after a storm The energy of a star to help you keep warm She’s the honey and hive where the bees always swarm Yet you are the reason her smile can take form
If given chance, I’d be the one to put the spear into her side
Make her feel the weight of everyone she crucified
Put poison from the sponge onto her tongue because she lied
Never trust someone who has a devil as her guide
All this blocking and unblocking I do, follow and unfollow routine, but he’s never once done those things to me. CUZ HE LOVES ME AND IT DRIVES ME INSANE. THUS POEM ABOVE. I’m sure he’d like me to be on Mars already but he needs to fuck me first. Sorry not sorry. Still loves him.
He drives me cra cra for realHow do you stop loving someone? I can’t figures it out…“Just another lost angel in the city of night”
I wonder under all the dust and worry
Does he ever wish he took a different journey
Will he change the ink and start a different story
Can he clear his vision where it has been blurry
Where the wall is high and the gate is locked
Where her head appears where a door is blocked
Where she keeps her eye on the prey she marked
Where the middle is the plan she plot
And I a whisper or a thought
Or just a dream he never caught
Or a reason he never saught
Or the love for which he should have fought
It matters not if I am up or down
Or if I am sideways or standing
My love for him is never-ending
And should be worn like a crown
All alone on another Eve
Does it matter if I’m well or sickly?
Loneliness is eating through my soul like a disease
I wash it down with eggnog and whiskey
I’ll be lucky if I make it to fifty I feel so exposed yet empty On and on my tears will stream I feel it all yet feel nothing
My purpose is few and far between
Climbed through his window, it’s getting darker it seems
Fighting for more than jewellery for the queens
Lost somewhere between nightmare and a dream
Is this purgatory?
For the living?
Monsters keep following me
I feed them honey
It came, it saw, it went
All my energy is spent
And I’m drowning in debt
With the economic collapse, I slipped
I’m such a catch you bet
Haven’t met my enemy yet
His name is death
I’m sorry you feel I am not worthy Of anything A lesson of, “I too agree” But please keep laughing….
Let me take a knee…
You are the king
Of the filthy
Let me kiss your ring
I’M BOWING
YOU ARE WINNING
Don’t visit me at the cemetery
Where I’m going…
I mean, you already killed me
His words hit like an EMP
A shock wave rushing over me
Unwrapping tears under the tree
Fears this Christmas eve
Rain and invisibility
The very essence of me
The light cast a web of shadows and doubt Losing time trying to figure it out Forging through worry with rarely a shout Aging like oak and bitter like stout Hardened inside with lines showing drought Incomplete circles with no love about Roots growing weaker with every new route Clinging to hate though loving devout Feeling so lonely while lost in a crowd Busting down rules where I’m not allowed Wishing for once I hadn’t figured it out The trouble with eyes they come with a mouth The problem with fate it comes with a vow I’d gift forgiveness but I don’t know how I’d run today but I am still bound You’d look away but you’re still around Looking in others what we already found Feeling uneasy but knowing not what to do now
Hi! Just a quick message to let you know I’ve shared my top 9 posts of 2019, as loved by you, on my Instagram, in my Instagram story, if you’d like a chance to see them! They definitely were highlights of the year, if not my life!!! I’m glad they made my top 9, although one was certainly shocking. You can check out my Instagram here, and I’ve highlighted the story, so it should remain in a thread after the story ends in 24 hours. The story can be accessed where my avatar is, if you are unfamiliar with how Insta stories work. Thanks for all the love y’all in 2019! If you’d like to be part of it for 2020, come give me a follow, no pressure though!
Hearing his laughter is like an avalanche of joy crashing into my soul
Boulders of despair crumble into the great wide unknown
And for a moment, if I dare, I call this broken rumble home
Wide open spaces on our faces made for places where sadness can atone
His laughter is like God ringing the dinner bell
Depression lifted like a veil
A voice from heaven reaching me in hell
The very reason for happiness as far as I can tell
Hearing him laugh is a great anti-depressant. His happiness is my throne. I’d climb the highest mountain to hear it, if only but for a moment. Is there anyone you love to hear laugh? I freestyle wrote this at 3 am while the world was sleeping cuz I heard a thing with him laugh & like poem erupted so. I love to hear him laugh if that was somehow unclear. 😄
If you climb the mountain of despair I will greet you there For my home is made of sorrow And it’s found everywhere No purpose for tomorrow Here there’s little air Watch him praying to the sparrow Well, I still don’t care
Top, bottom, or in between
It’s the still same routine
Kiss them now or never
Been numb since I was fifteen
Blinded or with sight
Still can’t feel anything
With cure or a poison
There is no vaccine
She hides her face
So the dark can’t see her pain
She needs embrace
But the tears come with the rain
She fell from grace
So they call her insane
Lost to a rigged race
Her heart was cheaply slain
By a monster who disappeared without a trace
And he’s not worth a name
Another year alone on this road I go
And why he never cared
I may never know
Eyes that often stared
No space for hearts to grow
Every moment shared
A price that I still owe
My soul forever impaired
Just want love to flow
You know, I still cry over the fact that he never even wished me a happy birthday this year and it was the only thing I even wanted. But I watch him tell other girls happy birthday. He makes me feel small and insignificant. He always does, he always has. As if he were born to make me regret ever being born. Crying now but whatever. As long as he sleeps at night, right?
PoeEternal 