#untitled poem

[most-ment]

...Weakness...

People often have been my weakness,

I have this unrelenting urge to connect with them.

I ponder everything they do with a keenness,

Meticulously analyse their roots and the spirals of their stems.

~

I always want to know why,

Want to know their intricate feelings & wants,

So I stare at random passerbys,

Eager to know their most ardent dreams and thoughts.

~

Of course this fascination has its down sides ,

I sometimes ponder others too much,

I lose myself in the hows and whys,

Forgetting to ponder my own wants.

~

People often have been my weakness,

My constant fascination, my greatest trial.

I ponder & analyse them with a keenness,

Trying not to lose myself all the while.

~

Note: Hello loves, hope you like this poem, if you're curious about the backstory behind any of my poems i've began posting some background on my substack. Let me know which poem you're curious about and i'll make sure to post smth there Faheezal's Substack. Till next time.

Update: decided to name it Weakness

Art by Lesley Oldaker

My fascinating tag list: @annotated-catastrophe @jayrealgf @sweetwarmcookies16 @think-through-pen @jordynhaiku @timeflieslikeabanana @grimfox @mk-ranz @unforgettable-sensations @dbaydenny @andileighwrites @onherway @sharmerika @hauntedjellyfishtraveler @hafisat @crownwriter @bdulhamid @chioma66 @dbaydenny @friendlyneighbourhoodartist

[untitled-bumblebee]

Untitled #27

This isn’t my quote

But it perfectly describes things for me

That hollowness that comes with being

Completely And utterly

Unseen

Parts of me tucked away in the folds of my skin

My desires being braided into my hair

Swallowing the burdens and the fears

No point in pulling them out

They will always be misunderstood

I will always

Be misunderstood

[blackwood-library]

There is something

In my chest

That is clawing at me

Trying

To escape

It wants

It needs

It screams

It aches

[definegodliness]

You will not be forgotten By a single person Whose lines of reverence, All, simply drown In the current of perpetual creation.

You will be forgotten. Yet If this May happen Past my lifetime, At least, my lifetime Will have made

Some

Sense.

--- 26-8-2023, M.A. Tempels ©

[brightstreetcity]

Untitled 180

I have this recurring nightmare

I’m trapped inside a room

There are no doors

and it’s dark.

But somehow I can see.

And all I hear is voices,

hushed and hurried whispers,

I can never make out what they say.

I know they’re telling me hard truths about this life

and all the lives I’ve lived before.

I sit beneath a tree that’s somehow growing in this room,

the shade creates a glow

and everything is backwards,

the less I think,

the more I know.

I find myself crying out,

the room grows dense with heat

and heartbreak,

so painful I can feel it shredding my insides.

I’m sorry and I’m sad and I can’t find what I’ve come for.

And there I see it,

it’s a door, as soon as I pick myself up off the floor.

[artycat101s]

Let’s play dolls together

Crime

Drama

Friendship

Maybe our dolls can fall in love

And our hands brush

As they kiss

Whisper your secrets over our Barbies

I’ll never tell a soul

The secrets of this sacred confessional

Let’s weave a tale together

Do I know you?

Do you know me?

Have we not seen each-others soul?

These two dolls are in love

But that’s not dramatic enough

Hey but what if-!? Yes and!

Creation is a sacred thing

Let’s build a world for just the two of us

I want to tell a story with you

Let’s create something new together

Can we sit close together

And let our shoulders touch

Can we lean on one another

Butterflies live and die in me unspoken

Gazing into one another’s eyes

Glancing at lips without a word

Is it the doll or me that confesses?

Is it the doll or you that responds?

I’m not sure yet my heart races

Let’s be a little in love together

[vanesadawn]

our mouths full of

August angst

lovers on exile street

we were complicated

pushing against the light

returning to sanity of quietness

we were awakened after the rain

and the beasts' that came to destroy

the roses

we were no one until we breathed

the same romantic nuances that knew

we'd never settle for anything other

than all our crazy chaotic midnight notions

everything you ever made me feel

no one else ever stood a chance to do that

[skarbert]

Staring...

Into the middle distance.

Waiting... waiting... and waiting

For the tired sun to rise.

Like those painted shells I stand,

A lonely winter, I can't hibernate.

Not while the sand spirals down the hourglass...

Like the one I brought from Egypt.

But in the present.

No leopard cloak'd hierophants to attend me.

Packless roaming, like an uncharged phone far from home.

The birds sing an annoying dial-up tone

Connecting me to the future I'll put on hold.

[dandelionsinthepavement]

untitled : not yet dead corpses and rotting flowers from a long dead childhood

between rotting floorboards lay bloodstained flowers, above them

are weeping flowers at my bedside, Among them, rotting daisies. Dying, like everything else.

I have not yet known anything untouched by death, I have not yet known to live without the rot.

I lay wondering about the flowers that will rot with me, on my casket, or by my grave. presumably none.

why taint something so precious with the memory of me?

[romanatticvs]

lesser than the last

i take issues with mirrors

not always willing to see

what’s behind the glass barrier

so comfortably blocking off self from self

-

but routinely i find it becomes clearer to look

through your eyes

watch the fisheye xerox of the “self”

which i claim as my own

painted, trying

-

we sit between my four walls

eternally settling

layers and layers of paint

masking toxicity, each lesser than the last

-

and you’re watching me

on the floor, in the space between your gaze

and the walls

infinity casts the self, my own self

each lesser than the last

[secretsinthevoid]

Do not use eccentric or quirky to describe me.

I do not care if it is in good faith,

those words have been used one too many times,

To hurt me.

mock me.

belittle me.

I am not eccentric or quirky.

I am me.

[amateur-mint]

Untitled Poem #14

I wish I was so utterly rich that I could afford to keep a pet artist around like a  lord of Arthur’s time. I wish I could go up to this bundle of talent and passion that hangs around my home like a stray cat with divinity pouring from its paws and say paint me something, my mantle needs color. I wish I could pop into the workshop while my artist is asleep in their bed (only the finest, of course) and wonder what in heaven and hell they’ve dreamed up this time. I wish I could wait a good six months until I’m presented with a faceless figure in oils, arm up and stretching toward a star just out of reach, fire spitting from their heels as it propels itself forever upward. I wish the smoke from the painted fire would curl into a million agonized faces that I could both be disgusted and enraptured by. I wish my artist would call it Progress and Consequence. I wish I was far too in love with my artist to understand it. 

[untitled-bumblebee]

Untitled #29

I don’t want this

But I can’t stop

The exhaustion is so painful

The headaches and the insomnia

It hurts and I’m tired

I’m tired of not eating

I’m tired of not laughing

I’m tired

But I can’t stop now

I won’t stop now

I won’t

I won’t

I won’t

I won’t

I won’t

[blackwood-library]

There is something

So delicate

About how his heart

Beats beneath

My fingertips

That I cannot let go of.

How easy it would be

To take everything

From myself

I could not stop time

But I could end my world

With a solid press of my hand.

And I know he would forgive me for it

[fluffycow1209]

my heart longs for you

just as my lungs want air

every word I speak sings for you

just as the birds find the sky

I will always drift to you

just as the waves meet the sand

-taps

[mrsiren777]

reincarnation of king midas with the curse of turning everything blue of pure sorrow

you know the famous greek myth of the king who turned everything into gold

i'm sorta like that but except turning things into gold

i turn everything disgustingly and helplessly sad

the second i touch something or someone they turn to a deep and dark shade of blue

not those pretty shades of dark blue

a nauseating, off-putting, disappointing shade of blue

a shade where you can't help but feel pity towards the color

i always kept this facade where i was bubbly

only to distract you from how pitifully sad my soul really is

i always struggled with who i was when i kept pushing this front

because i'll inevitably forever be sad

it's obvious

with one look at me

you would want to stay away

not by choice, never out of choice

with a look you feel a helpless sense of dread making you stay away

for your own good

with one touch

you would only be able to see the tiniest glimpse and a feel of it

of how it feels to live with a soul as broken as mine

never the full thing just a glimpse

thats the only good thing about my touch

you will never experience the whole thing

but you are left with the feel of it forever

like a whisper in the back of your head, forever lingering

like a taunt

its not like i meant for this to happen

i inevitably transfer it to people

and the looks i get after is worse then the whole thing i was cursed with

i am looked at inhumanely

like i just ruined everything for them

like i'm the devil himself sending them to hell

i never wanted this

but what can i do about it

-mr siren

WOOOOO. hi hi guys :D this was from early 2021. i was looking through what i wrote AND GAWD DAMN? what was i going through >:[ emo ass high schooler. anyways i'm still going through what i wrote and not gonna lie they're kinda cringe. i might post a few more old ones as i continue going through them. but TRUST new ones soon. bye bye mucho love :]]