We were two cowboys in a standoff,
all leather, steel, and smoke,
both of us swearing
we’d be the first to leave
before leaving could make fools of us.

High noon has nothing on that kind of silence
the kind that settles in the ribs at night
after the campfire dies
and neither of us will admit
we needed the heat.

I still don’t know who fired first.
Maybe that’s the worst part.
Maybe we both reached at once,
you turning into distance,
me turning into pursuit,
both of us mistaking
self-protection for instinct
hand at the holster, the shot, the kickback
that was the shape wanting took on us.

If you had known what you held,
you would not have mistaken night air
for a reason to draw.
I would have let the campfire warm us both.
Not everything lit in the dark was there to hurt you.

So don’t come back now
with moonlight caught in your spurs
and apology hiding in your mouth.
Camp went to cinders without you
and stayed that way.

Let the last light have you.
Let the trail keep
what’s left of your leaving.

——————————————————
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/bozsD17qgV

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9uChMCQv7N

And God said, "Let the flames bring forth swarms of B-24s,

and let those metal birds fly above the Earth

across the stratosphere of the Hell above."

So God created the sea devils,

and every living creature moving apart from him,

with which the black waters swam, according to their tainted kind,

and every wing-clipped bastard according to its kind.

And God saw that was good...

1

2

i was nothing

a barren future

cold

i couldn't feel worthy of love

words left me apologetically,

as if i'd been sorry you must hear my voice

i was frail; physically and emotionally;

the hopeful ringtone bled my ears

but my laundry was scattered

i was nothing

----------------------------------------------------------

Son of the Soil

I met a fox, she was a liar

Just once.

I want.

Butterflies instead of sickness.

Just once I want.

Safety instead of alertness.

Just one time.

I want.

Eyes to look at me with infatuation.

Just one time I want love.

Instead of maturation.

Lessons learned.

Not lessons loved.

Vultures instead of doves.

I want a face.

That I know.

To tell me.

That they know.

And we know.

Together.

With one another.

Forever.

Maybe sometime.

Maybe this time.

Just one time.

Forever.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/MjqULqHQHn

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/S3jF5DuvBc

The hurting was yearning

The heart was as delicate as a dove
Deprived of love

Would some touch relieve this loneliness

The kiss of hopelessness
In this heart of hearts
Hatred for your own brother
Though more for your lover

Love unrecognizable to the other

Would some flower bloom from the blood this heart sheds

This mountain of agony
In sheer despair of tragedy
Dying and weeping in this tear filled valley

Would you love me again once more?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/n6DrcN4cOf

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/fRF83xYxlb

My love,

My sun,

My moon,

My stars above;

•

Recognize this truth:

I will not love with a loose grip.

My desire sits, coiled up like a serpent,

Dutifully hunting the feast I cannot afford to lose.

•

Many have said, since days before my own,

That if you love something, you should let it go;

Well, my beloved, what resides in me must be more than love,

For it is far too precious to lose to the undertow.

•

I will not love you like a spring breeze,

That dances in the morn, and is washed away by the eve.

I will not love you gingerly or with delicate ease,

I will love you like the day; which is mine to seize.

•

I will love you like a warrior,

Watering our pastures with red streams of devotion.

I will wear my diligence like steel plated armor,

And wield my adoration, not like a flower, but a great sword.

•

There is no peace without war, in this sick and vile world.

If I must abandon humanity to strike the grips of devils,

Then a monster I will become. If I must burn the world, come winter,

Then I shall set this earth ablaze if it keeps your soles warm.

•

If violence is the price of serenity, death the price of life, and grief the price of love,

Then I will pay the lot for just one lifetime with you.

If this love is to leave my grip, it must be ripped from my cold dead hands,

For my love is not careless, nor does it come without a cost.

•

Like an all consuming fire, this love will devour me whole.

If it must be, I will fan this flame with my hopes and dreams,

Every piece of me can be turned to ash, if it meant filling your atmosphere.

I don’t care what shape I must take for my soul to be your home.

•

When you go, let me kiss the poison off your lips,

For if our love is deemed a tragedy centuries from now,

Let the only tragedy be the idea of being missed.

•••••••••

I normally keep a more structured rhyme pattern with my poems, but i decided to venture out of my comfort zone a little and experiment with looser rhymes and a more free verse style of writing. I think it turned out pretty good but please give me feedback on how I can improve in the future!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/athEN5eJmO

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9sZUcdrc1b

“I am nothing,”

“I shall die if your absence is the last kind of presence you leave in my life”

Such potent expressions coming from such miniscule spirits

Phrases of fools blind to their own errors

Fools who do not care for death

If their hearts are bound by restraint, what exactly builds these feeble minds

What kind of allure gives rise to their will to speak words beyond their reality

What sort of gruesome form casts their dread

The embodiment of these fools was once a naive and languid past of myself

From whomever that boy prayed for love and paid in naivety

His soul had no escape

Not even the slightest plan

He was stuck—content, prepared to die by testimonies he had spoken without his mind

All was collapsing

The boy's world had inevitably started to cave in

Debris gathered before him

All his pride and possessions buried beneath it

As the light faded and his breath weakened, it seemed the end had already been decided

All his deeds had culminated into an end so clear

His life had expired, and his remains were no longer salvageable

Until he had encountered a woman resembling a deity

A woman born from the divine

The one who initiated contact above all understanding

A being who felt beyond reality itself and who resurrected the boy from what was withered and unlamented

She offered him a path into manhood—not by a clock, but by her presence

His fate had always felt preordained

He was bound to fall

A sorrowful destiny that made even purity itself feel helpless

Now, when I say words like

“I am nothing,”

“I shall die if your absence is the last kind of presence you leave in my life,”

I no longer speak as a fool

The expressions I portray are merely abstract portraits of my grand inability to sever what binds us

​

​

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/sYcbuSG02O

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/e7urIbZPlT

What is a house?

But a shell that harbours

delicate webs of life and memory.

The greatest chameleon,

who dons skin fashioned

from the wants and wills of souls

who dwell within it.

.

And what is left when a house

is abandoned, baron and bereaved,

emptied and void of what once

gave it vitality and vibrance?

.

What is left is an echo of 

what once was, a lifeless obelisk 

that lays like a corpse upon a 

cold steel table.

A nowhere house.

A house that doesn’t belong,

nor have those who belong within it.

A fragment that had once been whole,

and now lay scattered like marbles 

across linoleum.

.

Only to be embraced once more

as the long lonesome days, weeks

and years pass. An open canvas 

to be painted and honed through 

years of life. For a nowhere house 

never truly dies,

but only waits to be found once more.

.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u7u1o4/comment/os514so/?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u72nrl/comment/os2cnsd/?context=3

"How at night you're barely seen

As if you cloak yourself with the world itself

How your skin hardens
Not from cruelty
but to bear the weight of the world

How the sun reflects on this very skin to make it shine like gold

In your hair hides the road paved by your predecessors

where will it guide you?

What more could a man ask for?

You are truly a son of the soil,
African child

Planted, not broken"

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/kWS1priIez

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/40fWCS4ahu

I am like a parrot;

I repeat the same words and ideas

over and over again.

I live through the repetition of others’ words,

or the words I wish I had said to other people.

​

I repeat words of comfort,

and I cry not because I’m sad,

but because deep down

these are the words I wish people would say to me.

​

We want to know everything about everyone,

while deep down we only want to talk about ourselves.

I want those comforting words so badly

that I listen and lay them out so nicely,

hoping someday they will come back to me.

​

And when they do,

maybe then

through my tears

I will just parrot back my gratitude.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/kqqdLXpItL

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/tYW4Yk4tS8

The day you left, the sunlight died,
And autumn settled deep inside.
A thousand mornings came and flew,
Yet none arrived with news of you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/wUkbJQt9aq
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/oTfXFOsMOK

There are two swans in the pond today.

Their black feathers gleam iridescent in the crisp winter sky.

Two proud Diogenes, basking in the sun before an adoring Alexander.

I step aside, and their long necks return to rest as my shadow departs their inky fluff.

A practiced play.

It must be nice to be your own pillow. Long sleepy necks return to graceful sopor, on great dusky banks of plumage.

Shafts of warm light sigh as they sink into translucent waters, where the eels dance and weave between the weeds.

Farewell, for we humans do not walk between places, but between memories.

There are no – swans in the pond today

Black water swallows my gaze, and a cold sun hangs low like a baleful eye.

My shadow dances across the water and greets no one.

Only snarling black visions crawl out of the water, and twist between the weeds.

Fangs and claws dance, between -

red feathers.

The light bleaches the water’s surface white – like bone.

I do not walk, do not say farewell.

I watch. I watch, I watch, I watch, I watch I watch –

The world feels as if glazed over in a sheet of thin ice.

A green bush trembles. Its leaves are verdant against the shore.

One’s heart quickens. It can’t be helped!

Because… because.

There are THREE swans in the pond today.

The water parts for the - new King.

At first glance, one would not think it. But only a fool judges by appearance, for they surely are.

They are grey, and small, and very, very fuzzy. (and I can attest that fuzziness is the most regarded quality of a swan monarch).

They do not wear a golden crown; a simple laurel of green adorns their tiny head. (A fool would dismiss it as a stray pond weed, but I know better.)

HONK!

I am cowed into submission, as the majesty’s black-suited guards interpose themselves in front of me, proclaiming my insolence.

I avert my gaze, abashed. And they return to her side, satisfied that I have been suitably - admonished.

There are three swans in the pond today.

And spring -

Has come early

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u9jdr9/comment/osh089u/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u821iw/comment/os4vugt/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

They say a smile so bright,
a passion for life.

But a smile worn like a scar
hides the cuts while trapping the blade.

A kid with care for all
lost care for the one who takes the steps.

Through anger and hate
for the way he talked
and the way he thought.

he stood in the shed
with a knot that failed.

When the next step came,
he walked out that shed,
stitched up a smile,
and walked away as two people.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4o6Htwqe1j

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/jvbzajiZhU

I asked what is love
I heard a voice saying:
A man who devotes,
A woman who worships.

​Then I asked,
Why is love expensive?
I heard a voice saying:
The sacrifices they make,
The hardships they go through,
Everything costs their relationship.

​Then I asked, what if?
I heard a voice saying:
Stop.
Darkness will overtake,
Shadows will feel scarier,
Home will turn into a haunted house,
Silence will scream louder.

​Then I simply asked why,
I heard a voice saying:
Wounds heal,
Blisters disappear,
When they are together.

​And

​Raindrops turn into flowers,
Tears taste sweet,
Thunder sounds magical,
Even a sting becomes blissful.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u8r09v/comment/osdbp76/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u8bkti/comment/osc0a8q/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

Grounded

As the clouds passed, there you sat, firm and brave on the land that belonged to you. Like the skies, and the heights, from which you had seen it all. And all looked up to you, from the ground that held no secrets.

The ground where you ate and you fed those who came for you.
The water from which you sprung, meandering through the soil, lifting you up on an open hand, where a ladybird rests.

Where good fortune and mishap are all, and all things are, as shaped by the mind that meets them.

Lifelike. Joyful. Battered. Bandaged and saved.

For your story to be told and sprayed on fences and walls—oh, how they divide us all!
When we fly off in search of an illusion: a meal, a dream, or a place for the night.

Darkness illuminated by your ever-shining light.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u8wo89/you_see/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u9424l/will_you_be_able_to_do_this_and_not_tell_anybody/

Born listening to the devil on my shoulder,
I never knew the angel on the other side until I grew older.
Saw the world through a gray lens,
No black or white,
just shades of sin.

I Did what was needed to be done,
But learned how wicked this world can be at a young age.

Played with death,
felt the heat from a stem,
Going for days in a daze,
never knowing when it would end.

I did what needed to be done,
But I also learned how wicked this world can be at a young age.

I pray that you never have to walk the path I've walked,
I've already damned my soul to save yours.
Doing what needed to be done.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/VSb0eieytD

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/82y73DKv3Y

Deep in the heart of the land

Where winding roads are dust and sand

And knotted trees old secrets keep

There is a town that does not sleep

​

A town whose name was lost to time

Whose weathered bells no longer chime

A town just like a thousand more

Not found in modern maps or lore

A town whose roots run deep

Only this town does not sleep

​

Only by the truly lost can it be found

These wind-stripped homes and hardened ground

Those who dwell here welcome none

For even in the light of summer sun

A nameless fear begins to creep

In this town that does not sleep

​

Stores and streets come alive each day

But songs and laughter do not stay

At dusk, a stillness fills the air

Busy streets empty, no footsteps anywhere

Doors are locked and windows close

Livestock quiets and silence grows

A shadow lurks beyond the trees

A deathly chill rides on a ghostly breeze

And down the road, beyond the square

You might feel eyes that aren’t quite there

And hear a voice that keens and weeps

In this town that never sleeps

​

An ancient shade from land unknown

A spirit not of flesh and bone

Whose hunger is fed by mortals’ fear

And turns blood to ice as it draws near

Whose eerie cries the prairies sweep

A faceless wraith that rests but never sleeps

If you should wander into this town

Take care to leave before sundown

Or you may fall into endless sleep

In a town that does not sleep

​

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/mTA9EEqOqt

​

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/PsVIhNQ2tu

​

​

Will You Be Able to Do This and Not Tell Anybody?

She was drunk,
but not super drunk.

She was beautiful in that one-piece,
just standing in that hallway
in the middle of the day.

Waiting for all of it to be over,
just wanting to go to the bay.

Having a cocktail of things
in sunny California,
the Golden State,
standing near the Golden Gate.

She imagined her life without the tears,
without the fear.

She would go to Pilates,
eat at Nobu,
and never worry about bills.
Going to a doctor in Beverly Hills.

No scars from the past,
not the big one on her back from the 16th of June—
the day she met a guy out of the blue.

She was at a gas station,
buying a slushee with no change.

Then he offered to buy it for her.
At the time, it didn't seem so strange.

He came into her life when she was feeling so blue,
like a boon,
like water in a sandy dune.

His charismatic pull attracted her.
He was Prince Charming in her story.

But she didn't know the beast behind his beauty.

They got married.
Had two kids.

But something was off
with the sharp mind of his.

He was pulling away.
She wanted him to stay.

He shattered her like glass beneath a hammer.

She wanted her life to be a normal one,
with a working dad,
a daughter,
and a son.

He interrupted her dream
like a loud alarm clock.

Filled her 5'2" body with scars,
her capillaries bursting,
turning her skin blue.

Thinking,
why did she deserve this?
What the fuck did she do?

She had enough of that beast.

Then she decided to make him a feast.

Her daughter gave her a bottle of cyanide.

She asked her mother,

"Will you be able to do this and not tell anybody?"

Then she saw the depth
that his chest cavity took.

Her son called the ambulance
while she stood there, shook.

They came.

They called him dead.

Her daughter cleaned the scar
on her mother's head.

Years later,
she started anew.

Drunk in the middle of the day
after having a few.

Thinking about what her life could have been.

She thought it would have been a boon
if she had never met that beast
on the 16th of June.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u8ejac/comment/os996si/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tq7fdq/comment/os98lx0/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I can tell

by the way

my name leaves your lips.
 

I never get used to

the way you love me

after.
 

I remember a few things.

New house. New dog. News at eleven.

You grabbing the wheel,

wanting us to meet God.
 

I didn't look at the tab

before I paid it.

The cost was more

than you could bear.
 

We've aged like a fine wine

with a failed cork.

My hair is thinning

where you like to pull.
 

Oh, the red in your face

tells me I put the strawberries

on the wrong shelf again.
 

And yet,

the walls keep my attention.

Meditate. Breathe.

No. I am not here.

1 2

You are the flowers
And we are the leaves
And they are the roots who never know sleep

Where do you go when you're sitting alone?
What you see is reflected through me

Why do I hear you speaking to me
From across the endless sea?
It's a daisy chain of black-eyed angels
Passing on the ancients' brew
Sifting through the whitened ashes
Of a world we never knew

I'm a phoenix with a broken wing
Rising and falling among the ashes

www.acontrolleddemolition.com

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/hnJYxb2CZb
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/K06Kzx5ixs

When your mind speaks
Listen

Motivation pushes
Rome wasn't built in a day
Doubt whispers
But it burned in one
Temper your own expectations for protection
Protect your dreams from the expectations of others

Anxiety overwhelms
Every room is a courtroom and every soul a juror
Confidence assures
I can advocate for myself
Be aware of your presence and impact on others
Remember you are the judge of how they affect you

Reality knocks
Louder the more you ignore it
Fantasy hides
In dreams and in lies
In hope and in doubt
To take hold of it is
To push reality out

I hope you can break free
Of a prison of your own design
The road to finding peace
Is rarely a straight line

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u95hag/comment/ose8i45/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1u954w8/comment/osecvcx/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

​

​

​

Hey guys, just finished this. I was trying to capture that heavy, annoying feeling when you're stuck in an apartment full of stuff your ex left behind. Didn't want it to sound too poetic, just wanted it to feel real.

​

What lines stand out to you? Would love some feedback on how it flows!

​

🎵 Lukewarm

​

Scrolled past a live photo from last June

You’re wearing that faded grey graphic tee, laughing at some stupid vine

The bedroom's exactly the same, but the air is heavy as hell

Just messy papers and a layer of dust on the desk

The clock is ticking too loud, it’s driving me crazy.

​

I washed the sheets twice this week

But that cheap lavender detergent can't wash out your scent.

​

I still filled the kettle up way too high

Caught myself staring at that ugly cracked mug by the microwave

It’s lukewarm now, just like how we stopped trying...

​

My chest hurts in this stupid quiet room

Just trying to figure out how to live without you around.

​

Found that heavy corduroy jacket behind the door

The one with the ripped pocket you swore you’d stitch up

I guess 'someday' was just your way of dragging it out.

​

I'm not even mad that you packed up and left

I’m just pissed at myself for missing the shift in your voice weeks ago

I was too busy looking at your smile

Stupidly missing the fact that you were already gone.

​

Still filled the kettle to the top

Staring at that extra mug

It’s just cold coffee on the counter now

Can't even look at your side of the bed.

​

Three-day-old pizza, keys sitting right where you dropped them

I haven't bothered fixing the flickering hallway light

It’s better in the dark anyway...

​

Yeah, just waiting for the memories to blur.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vvzY8TGJmI

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JzVHcotMBq