Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Becca Faith Oct 2017
When I met you in the pub that night,
The movement and the way you sauntered over,
It was so clearly pre-defined.
The way that you held your hand out,
The over the top air kiss,
Too effortlessly refined.
 
Later into the night the drugs imbibed,
Drinks convivially consumed,
The space between us lost.
Time disappears down,
Some rabbit hole,
At some unsaid noir mutual cost.
 
The pint shoved with jovial force,
From the slick wet bar,
Into my waiting hand.
The coked-up person,
Backing me into a corner,
Reassuring me that they totally understand.
 
And whilst my malnourished ribs,
Are digging uncomfortably,
Into your hard ***** floor.
There are things that I would,
Say to you,
If bravery mistook me for more.
 
You consume me with,
Your entire world,
Whilst mine just ebbs away.
My voice gets quiet,
And agreeable,
I forget that I had anything worthwhile to say.
 
This world takes the very guts of me,
With every wrap of drugs that I see.
And that girl slipping away in the mirror,
Is becoming so very different from me.
 
With every drink fuelled choice,
Each line of drugs,
Each night that I see reappear as day.
The feeling submerges,
From the depth of me,
That this life is not ok.
 
Whilst I can try and lay the blame,
Of my gradual downfall,
At the feet of some charismatic few.
It’s some personal emancipation,
That will allow me to start my again life,
With a sanguine view.
 
As I disappear down the rabbit hole,
For what I tell myself,
Is one last epic fall.
I hope that the person,
Who appears on the other side,
Is strong enough to walk away and leave it all.
misty Jul 2017
the cold would send little snow drops
trickling down my spine
dancing and singing praise to the moonlight
gestures of repentance despite knowing my damnation I continue to sit there, looking for my salvation
But with the icy cold drops, that warm me
and a look back into my bitter stained history
i have released and accepted what has always
been known to me
that salvation and emancipation has only been a dream
Amy Perry Nov 2016
If being stripped of liberty,
We owe no responsibility
To tethering our ties
To a system of lies.
Insanity, defined,
If we choose to read,
Means working to thrive
Through ways we won't succeed.

The system is broken.
Turn off the machine.
If doubt has not awoken,
Ask yourself, please:

Do you question many things
That you hear spoken?
Do you admit your own views
May contain false notions?
Does our culture retain
Unnecessary devotions?
Is government improving,
Bringing peace across oceans?

Emancipate from demands
Of societal bands.
Renounce the commands
And requests that don't stand
The test of your ability
To reason with civility.

A question is a "quest I on"
Not a destination.
It leads to many places.
Go ahead. Try it on.
Something I wrote a few months back. Might as well post it now rather than never. Losing a poem hurts.
Lisa Lesetedi Jul 2016
What is to come? 

From a world where our children are given guns to play with, 

It’s not the squirting of water,or release of plastic bullets, it’s the message we shoot into their heads .

Triggering violence from adolescence.
Planting seeds of hate,
And watering them with spilled blood .

Waiting for the fruit to ripen, but it never does,

Now we have the taste of bitterness lingering on our mouths.

That bitterness stays on our tongues ,
So that when we speak, that’s all that comes out.

You see Somehow the fruit is never as sweet as when it’s forbidden.

Sugared by sin,

Borrowed from thy neighbor, because when it’s sin there’s always enough to go around.

What is to come?

From a world where we are told to express ourselves , but within the guidelines.

Told that the world is your canvas , but restricted to only the color white.

It isn’t as pure as it seems.

Underneath the white paint lies splashes of read , gushing from a black body.

There is no canvas, all we are given is a painted picture, of what perfect looks like.

So that we Erase anything that doesn’t fit the image. 

The slightest difference is reason for war.

Be it the quantity of melanin

Be it religion

Be it Gender.

What is to come?

Of a world that is only tolerable through the shade of intoxication .
Where pills serve as capsules of happiness 

We are our biggest enemy,

Our pain is self inflected.
If this is what it is ,to be human 

What is the cure?
Lisa Lesetedi Jun 2016
2am juices,

I’m pouring myself onto this canvas 

Let’s have a glass..

Off myself uncensored…

My canvas black and white

Like stars in the night

Can you hear them shooting?

Splashes of red, gushing out the wounds

Ancestors rising out the tombs…

What are you willing to sacrifice?
They say life is a gamble, except somebody already threw the dice..

We are slaves to the forces …

Married to a chosen fate ,without room for divorces…

You see The canvas …has been painted

All that’s left, 

Is for you to open the doors that frame it..
Lisa Lesetedi May 2016
I met a Prince
He taught me that princes don't alway charm
No fairytales...he was as real as the sound of my alarm
I woke up
Realized that sometimes a Kiss from a Princess isn't enough
To break the walls of insecurity the world built so tough

I met a Prince...
He taught me that princes don't always charm ...
He ,like the rest of us had the world do him harm...
Crowned by thorns
Monsters are made
Not born ...

I met a prince
He taught me that princes don't always charm
The world isn't conducive for charm to bloom in...
He wore a crown of imperfections but that made him human.
He proved that fairytales don't exist
But I learned to see beauty in the beast.
Lisa Lesetedi Apr 2016
Dear Grim Reaper

You and me had a love child
But you took custody
I still think about her sometimes when I let my mind get wild
I let the memories overcome me in all their rhapsody
I remember how I would curl up in her cold embrace
Beautiful as ever...like death had a face
She promised to rid from me
All of the worlds pain
Convinced me that the worlds loss was my gain...

Dear Grim Reaper
You and I had a secret I swore I'd never tell
But its hard to live on in hell
I killed a man to find freedom in a prison cell
Oh well
Bring me my child, bring me death
In all her glory and her wreath
Tell her I wrote her in my will
And I give her my final breath...
Ishita Apr 2016
I have a quest,a suppress urge,
To dance under the moonlit night.
Madly.Beautifully.Rhythmically,
To a song being played in our hearts.
Hand in hand,embracing and dancing.
I have my hair loose,swaying on your face.
As I dance to the tunes of emancipation.
I find myself in your arms,safe n secure.
For I've found the man who has set me free.
27-4-2016
Fiction.Imaginary.
Lisa Lesetedi Apr 2016
What if the constant smoking and drinking aren't just a temporary  escape ?
Rather a quicker means to reach the true escape ...
Who drank my beer?
When I had death so near.
Now I have to face the rejection of society like I'm a soldier
Constantly at war with myself...trying to figure out who I should be today.
Battling my demons and sometimes yours too
Building up walls to defend myself from myself
But I keep falling and bruising my ego
Who drank my beer?
When I had death so near
Pleasure filled poison on my lips
The only life support I need in my drips.
Three cheers to making it this far...
Let the beer take one more sip of life from me.
Another challenge
Next page